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POV: Zayn
After getting over the surprise of seeing Liam in my Guns 'n Roses shirt and ignoring the blush that was undoubtedly showing on my cheeks, I realized I was standing in just my boxers. Sure, we'd all had our fair share of run-ins with a significant lack of clothing, but something about being there, standing in the bus aisle between our bunk beds at 7 am, with Harry, Louis, and Niall asleep in the background, gave the atmosphere a different feeling. Tense, but not uncomfortable. Blush-worthy for sure. I dragged my gaze upwards so our eyes could meet, but I noticed Liam had different plans. He was just staring at me, everywhere but my eyes, and he had this look about him. I couldn't quite place it, but his eyes looked a bit different. Kind of like how they look when Geoff calls but he isn't able to pick up. Yes, there was want in his eyes, but it was different, maybe...lust-full? Ok, it's way too early in the morning to try to read Liam's facial queues. We stood in silence for a few moments before I decided it was time to break the tension.
"Hey, Li, how was your jog?" I asked, keeping it simple.
He snapped out of his trance and looked up at me. Was that guilt? "Yeah, it was good. Just needed to sort some stuff out," he said vaguely. My mind screamed 'What kind of stuff,' but looking at his face it seemed like he couldn't quite shake the fact that I was randomly standing there, so bare, with the intimate space between us.
"Ok. That's great. Sorry about this," I loosely gestured to my bare chest. "You see, I woke up missing a shirt," a smirk made its way onto my face, because once you got over the weirdness the situation was quite funny. Liam seemed a bit lost in thought, though.
He looked up at me, and his eyes bore into mine, as though trying to read much deeper into my superficial morning small talk. Our gaze remained locked for a second, before I noticed movement at the bottom of my peripheral view. Was he...yes, I think he was! His hands were at the hem of his, or rather, my, shirt. Without removing his eyes from mine, he slowly pulled his shirt up, revealing the rock-hard abs and soft tan skin that had haunted my dreams just hours before.
"Here you go, Zayn," he said softly, his voice a husky whisper, handing me my shirt.
I just continued standing, hands crossed over my chest, mouth agape. Wow, I can't believe he did that! That was so fucking hot. Like, objectively. Liam taking off a tight shirt. Everyone's dream, right? My eyes focused on his face again, and he was watching me intently, a hint of insecurity creeping its way into his eyes as he must have realized what he did, probably something he only decided to do in the moment. I was practically salivating at the sight of him standing so close to me and holding me under such a strong gaze, and I slowly wet my lips before extending my hand and taking my shirt.
I quickly ran my eyes up and down his body once more before saying, "Liam, you can keep the shirt if you want."
"Nah Zayn, it's fine. We still have a few hours before we have to leave for interviews. I saw a laundromat on my jog. Do you wanna come along?" he asked, a longing present in his eyes.
I suddenly became a bit excited. It would be really nice spending some quality time with Liam alone. As much as we loved the rest of the lads and their antics, we were definitely closer in personality to each other than to them. And whenever we hung out, the rest of boys were always present in the background.
"Of course, Li," I said softly, a smile making its way onto my face. Liam's face had been tense till now, probably unsure of my response, but upon seeing my reaction he slowly smiled, too.
"Alright. Let's collect clothes now!" he exclaimed quietly, so as not to wake the others, mimicking a superhero. I shook my sheets out, and some socks and underwear fell out. I wrinkled my nose and tossed them into the pile Liam had begun to make on the floor space between our beds. Yeah, I was not the neatest at all. That would be Harry, if Louis didn't corrupt him so much.
Soon enough, the pile had grown into a small mountain. Liam and I had grabbed as many of Louis, Harry, and Niall's clothes as we could without bothering them. After all, there was no chance they would do laundry. In general, Niall and Harry brought more clothes with them on tour. Liam definitely brought the fewest, but Louis and I didn't bring much more than him. With Louis and Harry basically sharing clothes all the time, they wouldn't really have an issue if we do laundry without telling them.
"Ok, I think that's all," Liam said, tossing somebody's briefs (Niall? Nobody else was a briefs guy...) into the pile.
I looked around the living quarters of the bus, making sure. My gaze fell upon the frenzied state of our sheets.
"Li, don't people wash their sheets once in a while?" I asked, pretty sure that that should happen sometime.
Liam turned to his bed speculatively, before turning back to me. "Yeah." He paused, eyebrows furrowed as he took in the sight of five boys' mess. "Yeah, we should definitely wash our sheets, at least."
"We also don't have a big enough laundry bag," I pointed out, surprised by how poorly equipped we were for simple tasks like laundry.
"Yeah," he said gruffly. He was currently bent across his bed, trying to pull his extremely tightly-fitted fitted sheet off.
"Uhh, need any help?" I asked, walking closer to him. My lips parted as my eyes devoured the sight in front of me, from Liam's toned back, down to the waistband of his sweatpants, which was rolled like the girls in gym class, to his firm ass sticking out. He was making disgruntled noises, and it seemed like the frustration of dealing with the stubborn sheet might be the last straw on the impossibly tall stack of burdens he carries around.
I stepped even closer, as if that were possible, so that I could feel the heat emanating from his body. "Hey, let me help," I murmered into his ear, resting a hand on his upper back, before going to the other side of the bed to get half the sheet of. "There," I said after successfully doing so. "Now you can get the other side." I smiled at him reassuringly. He had been looking at me closely with furrowed eyebrows, but his face lightened and he smiled back with a whispered "thanks" before pulling off his side of the sheet. Together, we bunched it up and tossed it into the growing pile of laundry on the floor between our beds.
"Great, all done!" I whisper-exclaimed, collapsing into the heap with a grin on my face.
"Zayn! That's our dirty laundry! Get out of there!" Liam hissed at me, looking adorably flabbergasted.
"Aww, Liam, let's just take a quick break. I'm still sleepy from waking up at an unplanned hour," I said. "Come on!" I patted the spot next to me, a Nike sock getting displaced.
He looked skeptical, but tentatively took a seat in the pile. The only issue was, Liam being Liam, had put too much trust into the strength of the pile, and fell in all the way, his feet flailing around trying to regain his balance. Without hesitation, I took his hand in mine and hoisted him back up.
He looked at me, abashed. "Wow, Zayn, you're..." He glanced down at his lap for a second, "really strong." The last part was barely louder than his breath.
I blushed. "Well, I'll always pick you up, Li," I whispered back, blushing at the compliment.
I saw Liam's eyes wander to our hands...wait, our hands? Right, we were still holding hands. And, oooh, yep, neither of us was wearing a shirt. My blush only intensified. This level of intimacy was yet to be found within the band, other than Louis and Harry at times. They're on another level.
Liam looked back at me, uncertainty and questioning clear in his eyes, in regards to our position. Maybe he expected me to pull away, but I had expected him to do the same, but since he hadn't yet, and he didn't look uncomfortable, I had no reason to. It made me feel warm and comforted to be tightly clasping Liam's hand. But, sure, maybe I'll loosen my death grip a bit. I loosened my grip ever-so-slightly, giving Liam the wrong signal. As he started pulling his hand back, my hand immediately tightened it's grip again, and then I interlaced my fingers in his longer, nimbler ones.
He looked at me, surprised but happy, and then said, "We should probably get this laundry done so we don't show up to our interviews shirtless, right?" His eyes crinkled as he stood up, pulling me up with him. "Do you still have, um, our shirt?" He blushed, lightly laughing.
My eyes widened as I stared at the pile. "Uhh, no, it's somewhere in there?" I said, gesturing to the pile of dirty clothes on the floor.
"Yeah, I figured," he chuckled. "Hey, Niall's suitcase is really big, maybe we could dump it and put all the laundry in there?"
"Oo, that's a great idea, Li! Sure," I agreed excitedly.
"I think we need both hands," he whispered, looking from our interlaced fingers to my guilty expression, since I noticed I had tightened my grip once again.
"Right, sorry," I said, reluctantly letting go of his soft, sturdy hand.
He crept over to Niall's bed, pulling out the suitcase from underneath and emptying its contents onto his own bed. Then, I helped dump our great collection of laundry into the suitcase.
"Ok, you'll have to show me where this laundromat is," I said, as we grabbed our phones, and I took hold of the suitcase while Liam rummaged for the bus keys. Then we hopped off the bus, two odd lads walking through an empty parking lot in Melbourne with no shirts and a large, haphazardly stuffed suitcase in tow.
A/N: Both Bedroom Floor and Slow Hands reference dirty laundry XD