i'll capture you in gold and silver
there should be a catch, he figures, to the perfection that's taken over his life, because nothing in the movies or the books or love songs have ever prepared him for anything this good.
a fluffy little fic, just because i was in the mood for some happy otp feels. (zayn/niall)
--
zayn wakes up and the first thing that his mind registers is that niall's body is curled up comfortably, in a soft sleeping ball that breathes in and out, beside him.
he gets up, and he's careful not to wake niall while he makes his way to the window, tearing open a new pack of cigarettes and tossing one between his lips, disregarding the rest onto the bedside table.
the view from the bradford apartment is terribly boring, and zayn gets bored enough to start counting the number of cars. it's the same as yesterday; exactly seventeen, lined up near the side of the building. zayn figures that the cars either didn't move at all, or they moved really quick and then came back and parked in the exact same location by this morning.
(re: it's the former.)
when he's finished with his cigarette, he goes back into the room and by this time niall's stirring and his fingers curl around the side of zayn's hips with a lazy familiarity, pulling him in for a kiss that lasts maybe two seconds longer that it normally does, but zayn doesn't mind one bit.
--
later that evening niall poses for zayn while they're at the park, taking pictures, and zayn swears that he's capturing the flowers and the sky and the picnic mat, but they both know that the only thing zayn wants to photograph is niall.
--
zayn knows a lot of things about photography. he knows the shifting lights and the many functions of a dslr, he knows how to adjust the aperture and when to use macro and he knows what kind of angle niall's lips look nicest in.
he's taken so many pictures that they've got a shelf full of albums. every single one is different, but they're all kind of similar in the sense that they've all got niall in them, and people could say that zayn's more than a little bit obsessed with niall as a muse, but in all honesty, who wouldn't?
niall sometimes shows interest in photography, and zayn's happy to teach him and let him use the camera, but it's clear that niall's got the most basic of skills when it comes to taking pictures, and zayn has to bite his lip and try not to laugh when his boyfriend comes running proudly over with a picture of a sunset that zayn could have taken with his eyes closed.
--
niall first catches zayn's eye when he's at starbucks drinking a coffee and he's in the loveliest cream coat and the brown highlights in his hair matches the syrup laced across the mug, and it's such a perfect picture opportunity that zayn can't help but go up and ask if niall would mind posing for a picture, he'll even pay him to be a model.
they sit down for a coffee and they end up talking and zayn tells niall that he'd love for niall to come on over to his house because he's got a few picture ideas that would complement niall's appearance so well, and he'll find the perfect location for it, and also the lens that can intensify the color blue so that niall's eyes can look even brighter and dreamier than they already do, and oh god he's also got the whole backdrop and everything planned and-
niall says yes.
--
three weeks later they end up fucking over the hood of zayn's car, and zayn wonders if there's ever been a camera that can capture the intensity of the emotions he's feeling right now.
--
"you need to be laughing."
"then make me," niall says.
zayn tilts his head. "i haven't got any jokes."
niall's ice blue eyes glimmer. "if you want this picture to turn out good, then make me laugh," he challenges. "i dare you."
zayn sighs. he tries to think of something funny, but he's a photographer, not a comedian. "i got nothing."
"you're not even trying, darling," niall drags out the last word in a lilting tease, and zayn bites his lip to keep from blushing.
zayn puts his camera down, lets it rest carefully on the table, as he goes over and sits beside niall on the silver sofa of the studio. "did i ever tell you what an attractive greek god you make?"
niall smiles. his hair has been spray-painted with streaks of gold, and he's wearing a flimsy white satin toga that shimmers under the silver lighting. "yes, thrice already, including this time."
"well," zayn leans in and curves a hand around niall's neck, his eyelashes brushing close over niall's skin as their lips touch softly for a minute. "you do."
"you make an attractive mortal being," niall says. "you could make a god's heart melt."
"haven't i already?" zayn asks, ignoring the buzz of his forgotten camera as it overheats. he leans in toward niall, steals a few more kisses.
"yes," niall's hands ghost their way down zayn's body in a loose pattern, touch and go, and zayn lets out a soft whine, pulling niall in again. "yes, you have."
--
(later they get caught by the studio owner, and the infuriated shade of red that his face turns is enough to make niall laugh and give zayn the perfect photograph moment that he's been looking for.)
--
zayn's pretty sure that there should be some sort of storm coming soon, life just doesn't go like this.
it's not supposed to be perfect, it's really not and he feels like he should be careful and worried and keep his guard up but no, he doesn't, he's literally reckless and carefree with niall.
there should be a catch, he figures, to the perfection that's taken over his life, because nothing in the movies or the books or love songs have ever prepared him for anything this good. the heat of niall's breath on his bare shoulder when zayn's got him pinned against the wall, deep inside him. or the way that niall laughs, somewhere between a giggle and a snort. or how zayn wants to be with niall every second of every fucking day, or the way that he can't look away from niall, the way that his knees go weak and his face flushes or the way that his name tumbles out of niall's lips in the shower when zayn's fingers pull a trembling orgasm out of him.
it's one big beautiful picture, and whenever it feels like this is just the best that it can be, it just keeps getting better, niall keeps making it better every single day. because every moment spent with him is zayn's favorite, every moment is the happiest he could ever dream of being, every moment is yet another memory with such beauty that not even he can quite photograph with a camera.
zayn had waited for the rain to fall and wash out the colors from his happiness, because when the fuck did he ever deserve something so amazing, when did he deserve someone like niall?
but the rain doesn't come, and zayn continues falling more and more for niall and it just keeps making him happier all the time, and zayn's starting to think that maybe the storm won't come after all.
and so he just stops waiting for it, and he decides to enjoy every moment that he's been lucky enough to get with niall.
--
they're sitting at the laptop and zayn's got one arm comfortably slung around niall's shoulders as they go through the new pictures that he's uploaded into the folders.
"this one's nice," niall says, pointing to a picture that they took at the beach. "makes my hair look different."
zayn looks at it and tries to see what's different, but all he's got is that niall's really beautiful in this picture. fucking hell, he's beautiful in every picture. "yeah, i think it's nice too."
"but you say that about every picture," niall huffs. "i don't even know how sincere you are anymore."
"well, love," zayn leans in to nip niall's ear. "these are my photographs, and you are in them."
niall decides that this is a valid point and they continue looking through the pictures. "you just keep getting better," niall sighs. "look at the clouds in this one; it's brilliant."
zayn shrugs modestly, even though it feels like his heart is going to burst out of his chest any instant. the heat of the laptop on his lap starts working it's way through his body and aw, man.
"you okay?" niall turns to see zayn blushing like an idiot, and his lips pull up in a quirky smile. "you're being a little unconventional."
"me? unconventional?" zayn laughs. "never."
"so what you're trying to say here is," niall slowly pushes the laptop aside so that he can sit on zayn's lap instead, "that you're
always this in love with me?"
"maybe," zayn whispers, and he doesn't get a chance to say anything else because niall's lips catch him by surprise and they both fall backward against the softness of the sheets.
--
so they end up traveling a lot together, because zayn's gotten tired of photographing the same places over and over.
one time niall asks if zayn ever gets tired of photographing him over and over, and zayn replies with, "never."
--
zayn has never been in love, but if this is it- then, well, it's easy.
it's natural, and it's comforting. it's like the sound of laughter, and your own voice joining it. it's like listening to the tune of your old favorite song as all the faded memories come to life in your head. it's like watching videotapes from years ago, and still being able to laugh and say, "hey, i totally remember that!"
it's also breathless, and passionate, and it comes to him like he's swallowing in a mouthful of seawater, it's overwhelming and all-consuming, and it makes his head spin and his lungs fill, but it's also exciting, and zayn wants to say that this is his, it's his to keep and his to make his very own.
--
once, when they're together at the window sharing blankets and cuddles, zayn looks into niall's eyes, and at the way that niall is looking right back at him, and he thinks that yeah, this is definitely what it's like to be in love.
--
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