Summary: Where Zayn has to hold out, Liam learns how to take a punch, Louis asserts his control, and Zayn’s mum is way cooler than all of them
By: Zappowziamfeelsbomb.archiveofourown.org
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Zayn hit the mat with a thud that reverberated through the gym and Liam was on his feet before he could stop himself.
At the edge of the ring, precariously balanced against the ropes, Louis Tomlinson, Zayn’s manager, looked up at Liam with fire in his eyes and put his arm up, palm facing Liam, instructing him to stay back. Not requesting, not begging. Not even asking nicely. Louis was silently and efficiently ordering him to stay the fuck away. Liam could see the determination in Louis’s eyes and he couldn’t disobey.
Liam stopped in his tracks, put his hands on his hips in a defiant pose, then ran his right hand through his hair, watching—waiting—to see Zayn get up from the mat.
The trainers were hunched over Zayn, whispering, fingers at his wrist checking his pulse, then just as suddenly as he’d been knocked down, Zayn was being heaved to his feet.
Zayn rolled his neck on his shoulders and nodded to the trainers as they talked to him and checked over the slash on his cheek.
Liam crossed his arms and rooted himself to the spot. He wasn’t moving until he was sure that Zayn was okay.
Louis cleared his throat, getting Zayn’s attention, and cocked his head in Liam’s direction.
Zayn caught sight of Liam immediately and gave him a shy smile and a wink.
Liam let out a long breath and retreated back to his seat away from the ring.
Liam watched as Louis arched an eyebrow in a silent question to Zayn—Liam had to assume about Zayn’s ability to continue—and Zayn gave one clipped nod in reply. Seemingly satisfied with the answer, Louis jumped off the side of the ring.
“Again!” he yelled.
Zayn put up his gloved hands as he and his sparring partner met in the center and the room was filled again with the rhythmic patter of feet on the mat as they circled each other.
Liam leaned forward in his chair and put his elbows on his knees, trying to appear casual as Louis stalked across the room to him.
“We have a problem, Payne?” Louis questioned.
Louis wore a red button-down shirt over trousers that were bordering on too tight, no socks, and footwear that looked suspiciously like yachting deck shoes and yet somehow managed to make the ridiculous ensemble appear menacing. Louis took no shit, gave no quarter, and had a way of silently demanding respect despite his diminutive frame.
This wasn’t Liam’s first time in the gym while Zayn was training, and if Liam had his way it wouldn’t be his last. But he knew that if his presence was going to be accepted then he had to abide by everything Louis “the English Bulldog” Tomlinson ordered.
Liam shook his head. “You know as long as he’s standing I’m okay.”
Louis laughed, a raucous noise that made Zayn’s attention snap over to them and Liam watched as Zayn barely gained his focus fast enough to duck out of the way of right hook from his sparring partner. Louis had his back to the ring, but Liam’s face must have given something away because Louis immediately stopped laughing and eyed Liam.
“You’re a distraction for him. When you’re here he ends up on the mat more than he should.”
Liam tore his eyes away from Zayn and glared back. He had to listen to Louis, but there was no way he was being driven out of the gym. Today or any day. “Well then maybe you need to find him better trainers.”
