Summary: Five times Liam thinks Zayn is playing around, and one time that Zayn proves to him that he isn't.
By: Scottmcniceass.archiveofourown.org
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The thing is, Liam knows it’s a joke. He’s not stupid. He knows how Zayn is; he’s a flirt, with anyone and everyone. He flirts with Louis, even though it pisses off Harry. He flirts with that interview woman, even though she’s twice his age. It’s just in his nature.
Liam can’t tell when he’s joking or not, that’s the issue. He can’t tell the difference between Zayn actually being interested in someone, or him just fucking around. It’s frustrating, to say the least. It’s even worse when he does it to Liam.
1
Zayn slips easily into the seat next to his, despite the fact that there’s more than enough room on the couch for Zayn to not be touching him. His thigh is pressed against Liam’s, and his arm is slung over Liam’s shoulder, as carelessly as if it always rests there.
“Watch,” Zayn says, jerking his head in the direction of Harry and Louis.
They’re on the tour bus, and Harry and Louis are sitting on Niall’s bunk -- since both of them have top bunks, and their driver gets anxious when more than one person sits on a top bunk--, chatting quietly with each other. Liam doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be watching. They’re just having an innocent conversation.
Until Louis’ hand goes to Harry’s thigh. But then, that could still be considered innocent, right? Except Zayn mimics Louis’ action on Liam. Liam can feel every fingertip separately, can feel the heat of his warm palm laying flat against his leg, even through the material of his jeans. Suddenly it doesn’t seem so innocent.
Liam keeps his eyes on Harry and Louis, though, because Zayn told him too. And then Harry leans in a bit, curls falling into his face, to whisper something to Louis. Zayn does that to Liam. Liam can feel Zayn’s breath on his neck, hot and damp.
“What d’you think they’re talking about?” Zayn asks.
“I don’t know,” Liam says calmly, eyes trained on the television. Zayn can get to everyone, but he can’t get to Liam.
“I think,” Zayn says slowly, “that Harry’s telling Louis exactly how he’s going to fuck him tonight.”
Liam jerks away from Zayn at that, cheeks burning. Zayn laughs loud enough that Louis and Harry turn in their direction, Harry with a guilty look on his face, Louis with a glare.
Zayn stands up and ruffles Liam’s hair. “I was just playing, Li.”
Of course you are, Liam thinks. You always are.
2
They’re on the set of the One Thing video, and everyone’s screwing around. They’ve been filming on and off for hours, and you’d think that they’d all be tired; they’re not. In fact, they’re all hyped up, filled with restless energy. The second the cameras aren’t trained on them anymore, the moment they’re given freedom to do whatever they want, they all start screwing around.
Well, except Harry, who laid down on the couch from the set and closed his eyes.
Niall’s off somewhere getting a new pair of pants -- Liam told him not to try to do the splits in the air, but no one listens to him, and he ripped them right down the seam of the ass. Liam and Louis are play fighting. They might be mature almost-adults, but they’re still teenage boys.
Louis slaps Liam playfully on the arm, and then Zayn comes out of nowhere and shoulders Louis away and slings his arm around Liam. Liam pushes him off with a laugh, but Zayn frowns at him. “I was saving you!”
Louis gives him the finger and then bounds off to wake up Harry. Liam playfully shoves Zayn, still too hyped up to sit still. He’s got too much energy, had drunk way too many coffees, and just standing there is making him restless.
Zayn shoves him back, and then suddenly Zayn’s got him in a headlock. Liam bites his arm gently-- it’s the only thing he can do-- and Zayn releases him, nose wrinkled up.
“Did you just bite me?” Zayn demands, eyes wide.
Liam grins. “Maybe.”
“Think you’re the only one who can play dirty, Payne?” Zayn asks, and there’s a complete change in him. His voice is lowered, his eyes are still filled with mischief, but there’s something else there, too. He steps slowly towards Liam, and Liam’s pretty sure Zayn is about to pounce on him like he’s a lion, and Liam is his helpless freaking pray, which is just ridiculous; Liam is larger than Zayn, and stronger.
Zayn grabs Liam by both sides of his face roughly, and he’s smirking as he pulls Liam closer to him. At the last second Liam lets his eyes fall closed and he waits for Zayn’s lips to press against his. They never do, because Zayn kisses him wet and sloppy on the cheek, and then pulls back, giggling.
“Zayn!” Louis shouts, and Zayn winks at Liam before running off in the direction of Louis’ voice.
Liam wipes his cheek and watches him go.
3
They’re in a dark, crowded bar. It’s made even more crowded by the amount of security they had with them but that couldn’t be helped. It wasn’t often that all of One Direction went out partying together. Sure, they all hung out with each other, and the other boys often paired off and went out, but rarely did they all go.
Louis is drunk already. Louis’s a nice drunk, though, all smiles and hugs and laughter. Sometimes Louis can be a bit cynical and hurtful with his jokes, but when he’s drunk he’s the exact opposite. He’s like a teddy bear.
Harry’s on his way to being wasted, too, but instead of being the clinging, loving drunk, Harry is all thrashing energy and intense looks. Every time Louis attempts to sneak off to dance with anyone, Harry is right there, pulling him back in with a possessive look on his face.
Niall and Zayn disappeared a bit ago to dance, but Zayn’s back now, and his cheeks are flushed. Unsurprisingly, Zayn is a flirtatious drunk.
“Lookin’ a bit tipsy there, Lou,” Zayn comments as he slips into their booth beside Liam. He waggles his eyebrows. “Want to come show me your moves on the dance floor?”
“No,” Harry answers for him, eyes narrowed.
“Oh, calm down,” Louis says to Harry, that grin still in place. When he’s like this, nothing can bring Louis down. “He’s just playing, Haz.”
“Always are, eh Zayn?” Liam comments. He’s had a few drinks. Not a lot, not as many as Louis, but enough that he feels warm and loose and the filter between his thoughts and his mouth isn’t working all that well.
“Not always,” Zayn tells him, and there he goes, putting his arm around Liam again. He pulls Liam in close. “Not joking with you.”
Liam snorts. “Sure.”
The music is loud but Zayn’s close enough to him that he can still hear his words over the thumping bass. Zayn leans in closer anyways, and Liam shivers when Zayn’s breath ghosts over his ear. “Come dance me with.”
“I thought you were dancing with Niall,” Liam says, watching as a few people walk by their table. He will not look at Zayn, because he refuses to get trapped in those stupid eyes, ones that he knows are probably heavily lidded at the moment, trained intently on him.
“I was dancing with a lot of people,” Zayn replies. “But I want to dance with you.”
“Stop trying to defile our Liam,” Louis scolds. “Just ignore him, Liam,” he adds, reaching across the table to pat Liam’s hand.
Of course he’s going to ignore it. He always does. Because if he starts taking it seriously, he’d be in a lot of trouble.
4
“Come on, be honest,” the interviewer says, leaning forward in her seats. “If you had to date one of your bandmates, who would you chose?”
Louis groans loudly, and Harry chuckles but doesn’t answer. Niall’s too busy twirling his mic between his fingers to even know what’s going on, and Liam’s a bit distracted by Zayn’s stupid arm around his shoulder. He’s going to break that arm one day, he thinks.
“I’d date Liam,” Zayn says easily, the only one to answer.
“Aw,” Harry coos, and Louis leans over Niall to slap Zayn’s knee.
“Why do you say that?” the interviewer asks, smiling pleasantly at them.
Zayn shrugs and turns to Liam. He reaches up and cards a hand through Liam’s hair. “’Cause he’s beautiful,” Zayn says, and Liam knows the camera can’t see it, not from the angle he’s sitting, but Liam doesn’t miss the way Zayn’s eyes drop to his lips. “And he’s got a brilliant voice.”
Liam feels heat rise to his cheeks, but instead of just blushing like an idiot he says, “I’d date Niall.”
“Ouch,” Zayn says, a hand flying to his chest. “That hurt, Payne. After I bared my heart to you.”
Liam grins and shrugs. “Sorry, Niall’s got my heart.”
Zayn puts a hand on Liam’s cheek, and he knows it’s a joke, everyone knows it’s a joke, but try telling that to his stomach, because the way Zayn’s looking into his eyes has it doing flips. “I’ll just have to win your heart back, then,” Zayn tells him.
And then he drops his hand and turns to the interviewer, erupting with laughter. Liam shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
5
It’s his birthday. He’s already had a big party, one that Louis insisted he throw at an actual club, where hundreds of people he didn’t know showed up. This is his actual birthday party, though. The one that matters. The one that just includes him, his bandmates, and a few of his friends from home.
And everyone’s just a bit drunk, even Liam. Not falling down intoxicated, but still.
“Happy birthday,” Louis shouts in his ear. “My Liam, all grown up. I’m getting emotional.”
Liam laughs but gently disentangles Louis’ arms from around him. The moment they’re gone they’re replaced by another set of arms, thinner, wiry ones that he recognizes all too well. Zayn’s thin but he’s not weak, not even close. Liam might haven more weight than him, but Zayn’s arms are like a vice grip around him.
“Let’s dance, birthday boy,” Zayn says hotly in his ear.
Liam can’t fight him off and he’s dragged into the throng of dancing people. The second they’re on the dance floor, Zayn releases him and moves so that he’s standing in front of Liam, his arms behind himself so that he can hold Liam against him.
And Liam’s drunk enough to just go with it. He puts a hand on Zayn’s stomach and moves his hips a bit, swivelling with him. Zayn pauses in his movements but Liam keeps dancing anyways, and then Zayn starts grinding his hips in the opposite direction, pushing back harder against Liam, and suddenly there’s a lot of friction between their bodies. They’re no longer moving together, but instead moving against each other.
Liam groans and Zayn turns his head to grin at him. “Want to go upstairs and have a party of our own?” Zayn asks, lifting his eyebrows suggestively.
Liam laughs and his fingers dig into Zayn’s stomach a bit harder than before. “Why are you always such a flirt?”
Zayn laughs, too. “I’m not,” he denies. “Just with you.”
Liam snorts and says loudly, so he can be heard over the music, “That’s not true and you know it.”
“Okay, you’re right,” Zayn relents. “But I’m joking with everyone else.”
He turns so that they’re facing each other, but they’re still pressed flush together. Zayn wraps his arms around Liam’s neck.
“You’re always joking,” Liam says firmly.
Zayn shrugs and lets his arms drop. “Okay. If you say so.”
Liam rolls his eyes, because he and Zayn both know that he’s right. Before he can say that, though, Niall is grabbing Zayn and pulling him in for a dance. Liam watches them, watches the way they move together, no different than how Liam and Zayn had just been dancing. Because, like Liam said, Zayn was the same way with everyone.
+1
He’s a little sick of it, at this point. He can’t take it anymore. He can’t keep telling himself that Zayn’s flirting doesn’t get to him, because it does. Fuck, it does.
He’s developed a thing for Zayn. He didn’t mean to. God knows he didn’t mean to, because he’s not stupid. Zayn’s not ever serious about anyone, and his gut is constantly in knots, watching the way Zayn leans too close to other people when they talk, or watching his hand curl around someone’s bicep, or the way he winks at others. It makes him remarkably jealous, and he hates.
They’re at Niall’s place. There’s so many people around, and he figures that Niall doesn’t know many of them. That doesn’t bother Niall at all, though, because he’s in the middle of a group of girls, dancing wildly with them all. Liam shakes his head fondly at them before spotting Zayn.
He’s dancing with a red haired girl, his body moving perfectly against hers. And then he meets Liam’s eyes over her shoulders and steps carefully away from her.
“Having fun?” he asks when he reaches Liam.
Liam shrugs. “Not exactly my thing.”
“Why not?” Zayn asks, and this time his arm goes around Liam’s waist, which is a new development. His fingers curl against Liam’s skin, digging in just a bit too hard. Not painfully so, but not playfully, either. “You’re attractive,” Zayn tells him. “And single. You could have anyone in this room.”
Liam frowns at him. “Not anyone.”
“Mm,” Zayn considers that. “You’re right. Lou and Harry are off limits, for obvious reasons, and Niall’s a bit too straight, but other than that….” He uses his free arm to gesture around the party. “Take your pick.”
Liam swallows thickly. If Zayn can shamelessly flirt with everyone, then you know what? Liam can do it right back. Let him see how it feels. “I’ve already taken my pick,” Liam says, grabbing the front of Zayn’s jacket. The leather material is cool to the touch, even though it’s fairly hot in Niall’s house.
“Really?” Zayn asks, letting Liam pull him in. “Who?”
He can do this. He can do this. “Well,” Liam says slowly, trying to imitate the way Zayn drops his voice low and makes it sound rougher. “He’s incredibly attractive.”
“Is he?” Zayn asks, and now both of his arms are around Liam’s waist, and he starts swaying a bit to the music. “And you want him?”
“Mhm,” Liam agrees, leaning forward. “It’s probably a good thing he doesn’t want me back,” Liam muses, enjoying the goosebumps he sees break out across Zayn’s collarbone. “I’d probably be begging him to take me home and fuck me right now.”
He can’t believe he just said that. Sure, he’s not as innocent as everyone makes him out to be, but still. He’s got a bit more tact than that, definitely. And he’s a bit too shy to go around saying things like that, jokingly or not. That’s something Harry would say, or Zayn. Not him.
Zayn pulls away from him because of it, too, and his eyes are so wide. “Liam,” Zayn says quietly, almost a whine. “Fuck.”
Liam forces a grin onto his face. “You’re not the only one who can play around.”
Zayn frowns and shakes his head. “I’m not playing, Liam, when are you going to get that?”
Liam laughs. “Come on, Zayn, you’re always playing.” It sounds a bit annoyed, even to his own ears, but he can’t help it. “You flirt with everyone, because everything’s a game to you.”
Zayn groans in frustration, and then he’s grabbing Liam’s face, just like that time on set, but this time his lips don’t land on Liam’s cheek. Zayn kisses him roughly, tongue insistently pushing at the seem of Liam’s mouth as his hands struggle to find something to grab onto, something that he’s not going to find, since Liam cut off his hair.
He can admit to himself that he’s thought about this hundreds of times, thought about kissing Zayn. He couldn’t ever truly picture it, though. Not the way that Zayn’s lips were slick against his, or the way his tongue demandingly explored Liam’s mouth. He couldn’t imagine the way that Zayn tasted like smoke and sour alcohol and something pleasantly sweet to make it all perfect.
“Not a joke,” Zayn says, pulling back. His eyes are so intense that Liam almost wants to look away, except he can’t, because Zayn’s holding the side of his face again, forcing him to listen. “Not a joke, Liam. Not with you, okay?”
“But--,”
“I’ve been waiting for you to catch up and realize that I’m not joking around,” Zayn says, pressing their foreheads together. “But you just kept waving me off.”
“You flirt with everyone,” Liam says weakly.
Zayn raises an eyebrow. “I flirt with everyone the way I flirt with you?” he asks, and Liam nods, because he does. Zayn steps forward, his hands falling from Liam’s face to his shoulder. He pushes Liam back, keeps pushing him, not caring that Liam keeps bumping into people who move out of the way for them.
Liam’s back hit’s a wall and Zayn holds him in place. It can’t be considered dancing, not with the way Liam’s pushed against the wall, but Zayn moves his hips against Liam’s anyways and ducks his head into the spot where Liam’s neck meets his shoulder.
“You think I do this with everyone?” Zayn asks. “You think I look at anyone the way I look at you?”
“I-,”
“Because I don’t,” Zayn says against his skin, and then he presses his still slightly slick lips against Liam’s neck. Liam knows they shouldn’t be doing this, knows people could be watching, or even taking pictures, but he’s not pushing Zayn away. He can’t. “Because, just so you know, I might flirt with a lot of people, Liam, but I happen to only want one of them.”
Zayn’s groin presses against his just right, and Liam moves his hands so he can dig his fingers into Zayn’s back to ground himself.
And he believes it. Believes what Zayn’s saying. He puts a hand under Zayn’s chin and tilts his head up, and then, because he thinks he can, he kisses him. It’s not hard like last time, there’s no frustration or anger in the kiss. It’s soft and warm and perfect.
“Okay,” Liam agrees. “So maybe you could possibly not do that anymore? Flirt with other people?”
Zayn chuckles. “Jealous?”
Liam nods. “Very.”
“Okay,” Zayn agrees. “No more flirting with anyone. Except you.”
“Except me,” Liam repeats, because he can get on board with that. He can definitely get on board with that.
“Now,” Zayn pulls him away from the wall. “Let’s go wish Niall a happy birthday and get out of here.”
He takes Liam’s hand and drags him through the crowd. “Where are we going?” Liam asks.
Zayn smirks and winks at him. “You’ll see,” he adds playfully, but this time Liam knows he’s not joking.