Niall had been perfectly asleep, dreaming of sheep and fields and olive skin and perfectly trimmed black scruff-. No, wait, definitely not those last two. Either way, Niall had been perfectly asleep, lost in paradise, when he is suddenly and very rudely awakened by this obnoxious blaring sounding all through his flat.
Niall sprawls out of bed and lands on the floor with a pained thud, clutches at his head through the throbs as he wonders, what the actual fuck. He knows that’s not his phone or his doorbell or his alarm clock or the neighbour’s alarm clock or anything like that so, what the fuck. It takes him a minute until he realizes, holy shit, that’s the fire alarm. And then he flips his shit.
Niall barely manages to tug a shirt on over his bare chest before he’s sprinting out of his apartment, without shoes or socks or even freaking pants on his legs. Just a shirt and his boxers as he follows the crowd of people rushing out of the complex into the chilly winter morning.
What with all the adrenaline heat pumping through his veins, Niall doesn’t really notice the cold, even though his breath is puffing out a faint cloud in front of his face and he folds his arms tight to his chest. No, he doesn’t notice a thing as he steps back a respectable distance away with the rest of the crowd and stares up at the complex with owlish eyes.
Niall doesn’t outright see any fire and he’s praising every god on high because he’s only now thinking of all his clothes and his guitars and his books and just his whole life in his flat that he left behind and what the fuck was he thinking just running out with no clothes on! God, he swears his toes are starting to freeze right off where he’s standing in a small pile of snow.
Niall lets out another breath but this time it comes out through chattering teeth as if just now recognizing the chill in the air and, truth be told, he is. He’s going to get hypothermia. He knows it. What an awful way to die. Niall’s mind is flashing to his funeral with a blued corpse of himself lying in the coffin and his mother weeping over his frozen through form as his father pets his icicled hair. It’s gonna be great.
Niall is completely lost but he snaps out of it almost instantly when he hears a soft chuckle from beside and, somehow, Niall just knows it’s directed at him. He snaps his head over and nearly regrets it because, holy god, mother mary, jesus and joseph, his neighbour in 24B is standing right there, in all his glory, and Niall thinks he must still be dreaming, he’s sure of it.
24B, or Zayn as he is really named (Niall took a look at his mail once, sue him) is probably the most attractive person Niall has ever seen and he has seen Zayn all of a dozen times or so, glimpses in the hallway and run ins when Niall’s on the way in from uni and Zayn’s on the way out for a smoke or Niall’s on the way out to his little gig at the coffee shop and Zayn’s on the way in from classes.
Niall has spoken to him only on one golden occasion when they had both ordered pizza and Zayn had mistaken Niall’s delivery for his own - a lovely mistake really - so they really don’t know each other well enough for Zayn to be laughing at him but, yet, he is (he really really is, judging by the way Zayn is slighting him out of the corner of his eye) and Niall has a whole new reason to feel a chill race down his spine.
"What?" Niall shrugs jerkily, shuffling from foot to foot even though this just crushes more snow between his toes and makes him feel numb from the ankles down, but he has to move because the way Zayn is watching him makes him feel like he has to.
Zayn twists a little to look more front facing at Niall and, the worst thing probably, is the fact that Zayn just looks so awake and, damn it, what time is it, because Niall was asleep and it’s probably far too early for anyone to be awake anyway (like any time before 10 AM is) but Zayn still is, wearing a jacket and boots and looking warm and Niall hates him a little for it.
Zayn drags a cigarette from his lips though and that kind of makes a little sense, that he was outside smoking and thus would be dressed appropriately. Niall still hates him a little for it. “Nice pants you have there.” Zayn nods toward Niall’s legs casually and Niall doesn’t even remember what briefs he has on so he twists over his shoulder to look down at them.
Niall only has to see the faint outline of black lettering against his ass (the words ‘All You Can Eat’ on the back of white pants) to realise exactly what Zayn is talking about. He recognizes the gag gift he got from a friend with a groan and tugs down the back of his shirt because fuck this moment.
Niall ducks his head against his shoulder lightly but he eyes Zayn warily, feeling blush paint over his face because Zayn is still looking at him and smiling at him and Niall honestly can’t remember a more embarrassing moment. “It’s laundry day,” Niall offers warily as he prays for the end of this conversation, twisting away to stare as a fire truck pulls up, siren off but lights flashing.
There isn’t much drawing Niall to it as the fire fighters clamber out of their truck to assess the damage but, when Niall twists back around, Zayn is standing a lot freaking closer than he had been before. Niall wants to stumble back in his step or say something but Zayn’s eyes are pining him stiffly in his spot. Even more so when Zayn hooks his cigarette between his lips and starts pulling off his jacket and, hello.
Niall is gaping a little (a lot) but how can he not with the way Zayn’s shoulders work as he shrugs off his jacket and then he hands it over and-. What. Niall stares at the jacket a little before Zayn shakes it as if to say, here take it, and, with halting hands, Niall does, holding onto the smooth leather and fur lining the inside, nearly soaking up the warmth he can feel just clinging to it.
"You’ll be a little warmer." Zayn smiles softly, pulling his cigarette out but only to blow a soft flume out of the corner of his mouth and, how the fuck is someone so attractive, inquiring minds really want to know. Niall pulls the jacket on like an afterthought, slowly, if only so he doesn’t seem tooexcited to get it on his body and, oh my god. It is just so freaking warm around his chest and hugging his shoulders and it smells like cigarettes and amber wood cologne and vanilla aftershave and Niall wants to just roll in it forever. That’s not creepy, is it? Niall doesn’t really know.
"And," Zayn starts before he crouches down and, oh god, there’s more? Niall watches as Zayn slips out of his boots, stepping with bare black socks onto the snow before he hands them over neatly and Niall wishes he could be speechless because he’s stammering like a idiot right now.
"What? No, I can’t take your shoes. Your socks will get wet. I mean, your jacket is enough, really." Shut up, Niall, just shut up, is what is mind is trying to tell him but he has a really bad case of verbal diarrhea and fuck.
"It’s fine." Zayn wiggles his toes a little in his socks and just smiles like he’s a pleased puppy and Niall’s heart melts in his chest until he feels like it’s positively mush. "Look at it this way, it’s this or I carry you."
Niall has never hopped into shoes faster, not even when he was ten minutes late for class. He just knows that, if he’s in Zayn’s arms, no matter how cold it is, he is going to pop a boner. That’s a state fact. “Well, thank you.” Niall stammers, tucking his hands into the pockets of Zayn’s jackets and, oh god warmth. “I don’t know how to repay you.”
Zayn just grins around the hold of his cigarette and looks off at the building with this air of mischief that Niall immediately doesn’t trust because, why the hell does he look like that. Well, Niall sure as hell finds out as Zayn chips in again. “You’ll owe me one.” Zayn is still staring at the building but Niall feels positively pined by his words, shaky all the way down to his toes even though Zayn isn’t looking at him and, why the hell does Niall like the sound of that. It can only mean bad news. And Niall is looking forward to it.
