various One Direction pairings, ficlets
First kiss, Liam/Zayn.
Liam knows he probably shouldn't snoop. It might not even be called snooping, really; Zayn has the sketchbook open around them all the time, quick sketches and doodles, graceful curves of black marker covering the pages - Louis making a funny face, Harry in an atrocious looking hat, Niall with a sucker in his mouth.
But something draws him toward it. his fingers itch with the urge to flip it open, glance through the pages. so he does, glancing toward the bathroom door of the hotel, and still hears the shower running.
Zayn isn't out yet.
Once he starts, he can't stop.
And he's nearing the middle of the sketchbook, mouth open slightly, heart thudding just a bit too fast, when he hears the bathroom door open. He springs back, meeting Zayn's eyes guiltily.
"What' you doin', Li?" Zayn asks, and no one but Liam could recognize the panic in his voice. "That's private."
And Liam doesn't argue, even though he wants to. He doesn't look at the towel around Zayn's waist, doesn't follow the droplets of water on Zayn's chest or the spikes of his hair. Instead he says, "I," and stutters over his words. Says, "If you wanted to-"
Then Zayn interrupts him, ducking his head, fist tightening where he's holding the towel together around his hips, says, "Liam, I wanted."
Liam thinks, oh, and then he's floating forward, pressing fingertips into the wetness on Zayn's skin and catching Zayn's lips, warm and soft, Zayn groaning just a little into his mouth, and then it's over, and Liam breathlessly, desperately says, "So do I."
Louis/Harry, Louis bringing Harry breakfast in bed
The only problem with sleeping with Harry is that Harry is kind of a cuddle slut. And by kind of, Louis means totally. Which makes it very hard to untangle himself from Harry's octopus-like embrace to make him breakfast and bring it back to him in bed.
Niall/Zayn, picnic
When Zayn sees the size of the picnic basket, his lips twitch. He shouldn't be surprised, at all, but he still fights the urge to grin and pull Niall close, bury his face in the smooth curve of Niall's neck.
Niall, though, observant as he is, frowns in a rather adorable way and says, "I was planning to be gone a while," complete with an exaggerated eyebrow waggle in Zayn's direction, and through Zayn's fit of giggles, adds, "And you can feed me grapes!"
Louis/Harry, bath time
Sometimes, when they have a few spare hours or more in the evening, and a big enough bathtub, Harry gives Louis the doe-eyes, and the next thing Louis knows, they're sitting in the bath.
Oftentimes he's sitting against the side of the tub, surrounded by hot water and bubbles and Harry's back against his front, a wet mess of curls tickling Louis' chest, Louis' fingertips rubbing into Harry's scalp and Harry close to purring.
He wouldn’t trade these moments for anything in the world.
Liam/Zayn, birthday
Everyone can tell, Liam's uncharacteristically mopey about Danielle not being able to make it out for his birthday. He's shut himself up in his hotel room, ignoring his phone, and Zayn's frustration levels are creeping higher and higher.
Finally he manages to convince Liam to open the door, looking rumpled and tired in a pair of sweats, shuffling back to bed without a word, and Zayn just locks the door behind him, silently curls up to Liam on the bed and breathes with him until Liam falls asleep.
Liam wakes up a few hours later, warm and wound around Zayn like an octopus, and his body takes notice before his mind does.
"I," Liam murmurs, staring at Zayn's dark eyes, and Zayn smiles, says, "Shh, relax," and kisses him. Soft, openmouthed, careful, fingers slip-sliding over Liam's stomach, lower, lower, until Liam gasps into Zayn's mouth.
Zayn drags his mouth away long enough to whisper, "Happy birthday, you deserve it," before he makes Liam fall apart with his hands.
Louis/Harry, movie date
It’s the simple things, now. Simple pleasures. A few hours curled up on the couch, smothered in blankets and pillows and Harry, wild mess of hair tickling Louis’ chin. The credits are rolling and Harry is a sleepy, warm bundle of limbs, making soft, contented noises into his neck, lips pressing kisses to the skin there. Louis loves how perfectly Harry’s hips fit into his, how perfectly Harry fits into him, period, every bit of him.
“Yshookssmee,” Harry mumurs, and Louis can’t help but giggle into his hair.
“Say again, love?”
“You should kiss me,” Harry says again, lifting his head to show Louis the cheeky little grin on his face, and it’s the easiest thing in the world for Louis to oblige him.
Harry/Louis, tattoo
Harry sleeps like he lives. Open, reckless, without abandon, childlike. He sleeps on his back, arms flung above his head and fingers curled under the pillow, arms and chest and stomach and hips exposed. He sleeps with a hint of a smile on his face, unruly curls a dark pool against the stark white of the pillow, a delicate flush painted across his cheekbones.
Louis would be content to stare at him all night, if he didn't need sleep, himself.
He tends to fall asleep second, where Harry can fall asleep almost instantly. But where Louis has been told he could sleep through a hurricane, Harry wakes up at the slightest noise.
Somehow, though, he can sleep right through Louis gazing at him for hours. Louis likes waking up first, he can watch all he pleases, letting his eyes linger over the smooth skin of Harry's throat, his arms, his hips.
This morning, he nuzzles closer into Harry's right side, nose brushing the sensitive spot of Harry's inner arm, where ink colors the skin. Harry giggles, opening his eyes halfway and burying his face into the other side of his arm. "Lou," he whines softly. "Tickles."
Louis grins, kissing patterns along the tattoos until Harry's squirming unabashedly, trying and failing to stifle his giggles. "Louis. Louis, stop." He rolls over, tucking his elbow behind Louis' neck, and kisses Louis sweetly, warm and pliant in Louis' arms, effectively stopping Louis' attack on his arm.
Humming softly into Harry's mouth, Louis slides a leg through his, tucking one ankle around Harry's calf, and murmurs, "Mine." He traces his fingers over the word over the star, over and over. "Love you."
Harry's smile is dazzling. "Love you too."
Liam knows he probably shouldn't snoop. It might not even be called snooping, really; Zayn has the sketchbook open around them all the time, quick sketches and doodles, graceful curves of black marker covering the pages - Louis making a funny face, Harry in an atrocious looking hat, Niall with a sucker in his mouth.
But something draws him toward it. his fingers itch with the urge to flip it open, glance through the pages. so he does, glancing toward the bathroom door of the hotel, and still hears the shower running.
Zayn isn't out yet.
Once he starts, he can't stop.
And he's nearing the middle of the sketchbook, mouth open slightly, heart thudding just a bit too fast, when he hears the bathroom door open. He springs back, meeting Zayn's eyes guiltily.
"What' you doin', Li?" Zayn asks, and no one but Liam could recognize the panic in his voice. "That's private."
And Liam doesn't argue, even though he wants to. He doesn't look at the towel around Zayn's waist, doesn't follow the droplets of water on Zayn's chest or the spikes of his hair. Instead he says, "I," and stutters over his words. Says, "If you wanted to-"
Then Zayn interrupts him, ducking his head, fist tightening where he's holding the towel together around his hips, says, "Liam, I wanted."
Liam thinks, oh, and then he's floating forward, pressing fingertips into the wetness on Zayn's skin and catching Zayn's lips, warm and soft, Zayn groaning just a little into his mouth, and then it's over, and Liam breathlessly, desperately says, "So do I."
Louis/Harry, Louis bringing Harry breakfast in bed
The only problem with sleeping with Harry is that Harry is kind of a cuddle slut. And by kind of, Louis means totally. Which makes it very hard to untangle himself from Harry's octopus-like embrace to make him breakfast and bring it back to him in bed.
Niall/Zayn, picnic
When Zayn sees the size of the picnic basket, his lips twitch. He shouldn't be surprised, at all, but he still fights the urge to grin and pull Niall close, bury his face in the smooth curve of Niall's neck.
Niall, though, observant as he is, frowns in a rather adorable way and says, "I was planning to be gone a while," complete with an exaggerated eyebrow waggle in Zayn's direction, and through Zayn's fit of giggles, adds, "And you can feed me grapes!"
Louis/Harry, bath time
Sometimes, when they have a few spare hours or more in the evening, and a big enough bathtub, Harry gives Louis the doe-eyes, and the next thing Louis knows, they're sitting in the bath.
Oftentimes he's sitting against the side of the tub, surrounded by hot water and bubbles and Harry's back against his front, a wet mess of curls tickling Louis' chest, Louis' fingertips rubbing into Harry's scalp and Harry close to purring.
He wouldn’t trade these moments for anything in the world.
Liam/Zayn, birthday
Everyone can tell, Liam's uncharacteristically mopey about Danielle not being able to make it out for his birthday. He's shut himself up in his hotel room, ignoring his phone, and Zayn's frustration levels are creeping higher and higher.
Finally he manages to convince Liam to open the door, looking rumpled and tired in a pair of sweats, shuffling back to bed without a word, and Zayn just locks the door behind him, silently curls up to Liam on the bed and breathes with him until Liam falls asleep.
Liam wakes up a few hours later, warm and wound around Zayn like an octopus, and his body takes notice before his mind does.
"I," Liam murmurs, staring at Zayn's dark eyes, and Zayn smiles, says, "Shh, relax," and kisses him. Soft, openmouthed, careful, fingers slip-sliding over Liam's stomach, lower, lower, until Liam gasps into Zayn's mouth.
Zayn drags his mouth away long enough to whisper, "Happy birthday, you deserve it," before he makes Liam fall apart with his hands.
Louis/Harry, movie date
It’s the simple things, now. Simple pleasures. A few hours curled up on the couch, smothered in blankets and pillows and Harry, wild mess of hair tickling Louis’ chin. The credits are rolling and Harry is a sleepy, warm bundle of limbs, making soft, contented noises into his neck, lips pressing kisses to the skin there. Louis loves how perfectly Harry’s hips fit into his, how perfectly Harry fits into him, period, every bit of him.
“Yshookssmee,” Harry mumurs, and Louis can’t help but giggle into his hair.
“Say again, love?”
“You should kiss me,” Harry says again, lifting his head to show Louis the cheeky little grin on his face, and it’s the easiest thing in the world for Louis to oblige him.
Harry/Louis, tattoo
Harry sleeps like he lives. Open, reckless, without abandon, childlike. He sleeps on his back, arms flung above his head and fingers curled under the pillow, arms and chest and stomach and hips exposed. He sleeps with a hint of a smile on his face, unruly curls a dark pool against the stark white of the pillow, a delicate flush painted across his cheekbones.
Louis would be content to stare at him all night, if he didn't need sleep, himself.
He tends to fall asleep second, where Harry can fall asleep almost instantly. But where Louis has been told he could sleep through a hurricane, Harry wakes up at the slightest noise.
Somehow, though, he can sleep right through Louis gazing at him for hours. Louis likes waking up first, he can watch all he pleases, letting his eyes linger over the smooth skin of Harry's throat, his arms, his hips.
This morning, he nuzzles closer into Harry's right side, nose brushing the sensitive spot of Harry's inner arm, where ink colors the skin. Harry giggles, opening his eyes halfway and burying his face into the other side of his arm. "Lou," he whines softly. "Tickles."
Louis grins, kissing patterns along the tattoos until Harry's squirming unabashedly, trying and failing to stifle his giggles. "Louis. Louis, stop." He rolls over, tucking his elbow behind Louis' neck, and kisses Louis sweetly, warm and pliant in Louis' arms, effectively stopping Louis' attack on his arm.
Humming softly into Harry's mouth, Louis slides a leg through his, tucking one ankle around Harry's calf, and murmurs, "Mine." He traces his fingers over the word over the star, over and over. "Love you."
Harry's smile is dazzling. "Love you too."