Fic: We don't know how to back down
Title: we don't know how to back down
Prompt: flowers
Pairing: Zayn/Louis
Rating: R
Word Count: 2,280
Warnings: swearing, drinking idk.
Summary: Louis comes to the conclusion that Zayn's a shitty friend.
This was written for 1directionelite.
Louis comes to the conclusion that Zayn's a shitty friend.
But it's too late a conclusion when Zayn's dragging him to his car, all doe-eyes and desperate plea. And okay, Louis doesn't know how and when did he agree to get on board with this, but he's wearing a suit! And it's so restricting and the stupid tie Zayn'd enforced on him is too suffocation, and just, no. Today isn't going to be a day he enjoys, at all.
He's in the passenger seat refusing to acknowledge Zayn; turning up the music so he doesn't have to. He kind of thought this weekend was about staying in and watching a movie or two, and definitely not wearing any clothes that's only purpose were to smother him. He flops around in his seat so that he's facing the window, and crosses his arms. "I don't even know why I am doing this."
"You're doing it because you're my friend." Of course Zayn would have something to say.
Louis turns to glare at him. "Your only friend. No one stands being within five-foot near you."
"I am pretty sure that's because you're always there. Intimidating them."
"Oh please, like you're just so charming."
"I am."
"You would think so."
"Louis."
"What, Zayner?" Louis arches an eyebrow and turns to look out the window in satisfaction when Zayn sighs.
"You're awful." He hears Zayn mutter, but it just means he's succeeded at provoking him, so he counts it as a victory.
Louis 1-0 Zayn.
Except at the end of the day, Zayn's the gold medalist, because Louis's the one who agreed to all of this in the first place. He tries hard not to voice what he had come down to, because then Zayn would be all smug and pleased with himself, and Louis can't have that.
The two of them had always been weird. College was this whole new world, and his mother told him not to trust anyone when he was out there by himself, just yet. But Zayn in graphic tees and thick glasses and looking utterly lost around campus seemed pretty trustworthy to Louis. Zayn smoked outside at night when he thought Louis wasn't looking. And Zayn was high and funny and made him feel good. Moreover, Louis was as equally high when he asked if they could move in together.
Which they did, because they just clicked or whatever it is other people say about them.
They're incurably co-dependant, constantly missing the warmth of each other. Sprawled up in bed, cuddled up against each other and all tangled limbs in the mornings. They nestled on the couch watching re-runs of bad television and back-to-back movies all day on weekends, eating whatever it is they could afford. (Which was take-out food most of the time, unless Zayn decided to fry up in their small kitchen.)
Zayn and Louis are heedless and nonchalant and they subside merely on each other.
Zayn pulls up the car to a stop and looks over to Louis. "Look, I don't want to be here as much you, but there are p-" A rap against the window interrupts whatever Zayn's just about to say, and Louis is kind of thankful for that. Zayn's father is standing there, smiling.
Before he skives off the car, Zayn gives Louis a meaningful look, which, okay, Louis doesn't think was necessary at all. He can be nice and helpful; it's not like, hard, or something.
Turns out, it is.
Trisha's really welcoming and all, but it's all good until she drags Zayn to meet people. Louis thinks those are probably the situations Zayn didn't want to get involved in, because he looks miserable, and not at all pleased that Louis's abandoning him. And okay, so maybe he's not that helpful, but a bit of socialising could do Zayn some good. (which he'll admit, isn't really what he wants Zayn to be doing at all)
Louis sinks into the chair he'd been ushered to. And he doesn't like this one bit. The tone of the flowers for once, and Zayn talking to someone at the far end of the room as second of his problems. He didn't come here so Zayn could talk to someone. Before he could think, Louis starts to where Zayn's standing, snakes an arm around him and smiles menacingly at the girl who'd been talking to Zayn.
"I need him back." he says, tugging on Zayn to follow him. And it's not like Zayn's objecting. "I hate when you do that." Louis says and Zayn's smiling, leans to kiss away the furrow in his eyebrows. Louis pulls a face and drags them both towards their seats.
More guests arrive and fill in the seats, some of which recognize Zayn, which Louis thinks is ridiculous because Zayn's not allowed to talk to anyone else when he's right here. "Talk to me instead," at some point, he leans in to whisper to Zayn who smiles apologetically at the person he had been talking to and presses closer to Louis. But Louis knows Zayn's far from apologetic. He knows how much Zayn hates small talk, and talking to people he hardly knows, in general.
Somehow, it matches with Louis's own control issues.
Zayn fiddles with the roses in his hand; plucks out petals and squad them on the stretch of Louis's thigh. Louis fixes a white one into Zayn's pocket, taps his hands against Zayn's chest and smiles a crinkly one at him.
The room's quiet, except for the bride and the groom and their vows. Louis leans in to whisper. "Knock knock."
Zayn's lips curl up, instantly. "Who's there?" he shoots back.
"Aramgeddon."
And Zayn's giggling inaudibly before he can even get to the punchline. "Armageddon who?"
Louis's grinning at him, leans in once again that his hair tickles the side of Zayn's face. "Armageddon out of here!" Zayn has to press both hands over his mouth, pressing his forehead onto Louis's shoulder as he forces back the convulsion he's pretty much going to break into if it weren't for the circumstances.
Louis nods proudly.
The thing's over before they know it, and they're too unaware of what's happened until everyone's up on their feet, throwing petals and rice over the newly-married couple.
Soon after, they get ushered to the reception. They get stewards shoving drinks at them, and there's a gourmet at the end of the room. But there are also so many people who stop to to make small talk. A few gush about how they make a cute couple, and of course, Zayn would just smile politely and tug Louis away from said people.
Louis is starting to think this place has really no way out when someone stops them to chat with Zayn near the door. Then they're being pulled back to the centre of the room where everyone's dancing to Hit Me Baby, One More Time. Louis looks at Zayn horridly, is this actually happening? Who plays that at their wedding.
Zayn merely shrugs, and accepts the drink a waiter pours him.
There are more people dancing, and Louis knows just how much Zayn hates that. But at least there are drinks that they chug down, one after the other, until it feels like their heads are swimming around in liquor and detach from the music and the laughter of the people.
"What's wrong, you look like you aren't having fun." Louis says meekly, taking the glass from Zayn's hand and downing it in one go.
"Do you want to get out of here?" Zayn says.
"Thought you'd never ask." Louis grins, curling his fingers around Zayn's and starting towards the door.
There is no context for this, they're both mad for one another, always over each other and are also being told they are, and they are both young, attractive and pissed on gin, and the feel of Zayn’s hips brushing Louis’s backside when they squeeze past one another to the door.
The hallway is decorated with yet more flowers, and finds Louis groaning at that much of it. Zayn's grinning though, catches a bouquet and tugs out a white rose to give Louis. It's just a habit he has, wherever they go somewhere, anywhere there's flowers, he would pull a white one for Louis. Louis rolls his eyes and takes it, coils it around the door knob of the room they squeeze into.
Once there's a door separating them and the rest of the world, Louis presses Zayn flat against the wall, and he looks swarming and coy and his dark hair makes his skin glow rich and bright, and Louis threads fingers in it and bites his lips, grates his hips down the front of Zayn’s pants, makes Zayn swear like a brute.
Zayn’s got long fingers, nimbling Louis's sides, somehow coordinated in spite of the slop of liquor swimming in his brain. It gushes through Louis’s veins in a burning hurry, makes him move fast to kiss Zayn with wet, sucking lips that make Zayn sigh against his jaw line. Zayn’s hands smooth down Louis’s spine and follow the curve of his back, his wrists catching the sides of Louis’s shirt, helping him out of it, and edging more skin out against his.
Louis bares his teeth against Zayn’s shirt, he sucks in a sharp breath and holds it, his entire body stops to focus on the feeling of skin friction and dazzling pressure when Zayn's fingers coast over his thighs. Hot blood whirl a spiral under his skin, and fast breaths that make him dizzy, send his weight loafing forward into Zayn’s steady chest.
It feels fucking good, so good. And Louis’s thighs are tight muscles gripping and flexing and then holding, and he’s chewing his own lips until he feels Zayn’s on the back of his head, leading his mouth upward. He kisses helplessly, tongue shuffling dumbly against Zayn’s, and Zayn is breathing hard and fast, his hips rocking with the movement of his hand.
And Louis chases away the dry taste of tonic out of Zayn’s mouth, and he fucks into the heat they're making. He rests all his weight in his hips, grinds into Zayn, and listens to Zayn groan at the pressure Louis forces onto him. With strength he pulls off his bones and slaps against Zayn’s shuddering frame, and he makes sure Zayn can feel every last inch of it.
Zayn’s head tips back against the crisp-clean walls, and his breath is hitched as it rushes out of him. Louis grazes teeth along Zayn’s neck and listens to the audible groan, feels it vibrate against his tongue, and he makes a noise in response, and the sounds flow right through him and tighten everything.
Zayn tries to catch his breath while Louis hits his knees on the polished floor. He rips Zayn's pants to his ankles and Zayn kicks out a leg, spreads them, and mindlessly knots fingers into Louis's hair.
"Fuck, Lou, on your knees, fuck," Zayn says, fingers clutching, knees bending as he roughly propel into Louis who's humming. He makes sounds, moaning, groaning, vibrating sounds, and he loves it, because with every last sounds he makes, Zayn whines and rolls his hips further.
He looks up, seeing Zayn's glazed eyes sharpening on him. Louis's eyes burn, his mouth is sore, his throat is raw. He lets it happen, feels a surge of Zayn's hand at his shoulder blade, and how utterly desperate Zayn is, how he's getting lost in it.
Zayn fucks with clout, fucks like he's on fire, fuck them breathless, fucks like he's scared Louis's not going to be his later.
And Louis splays fingers over the rug, makes claws, opens his mouth, bites his lips, tries to bite back his voice.
And he says, "More, fucking more, fucking harder." He's close and feels Zayn's palms skating over his stomach, dipping to his hips and stroking down his thigh. It's intimate, makes Louis clench around Zayn, makes him stutter out of breath.
Zayn picks his head up and kisses him, and Louis's mouth opens against him in relief, desperate sucking kisses and he finally hears a cracking moan and Zayn's face pushing into his hair.
Louis laughs when Zayn finally relaxes against him, taking a deep breath over Louis's chest and then sliding to Louis's side, resting hands on his chest to feel his own lungs heaving. Louis leans over and kisses Zayn hard, and exhausted and he isn't able but to still think about all of what this means.
Louis’s tugging his pants up, settling them back onto his hips, Zayn zips his fly for him and then tilts his face to kiss him the way lovers kiss when they haven’t seen each other all day. It is soft and inviting, not oppressive, only promising more, and it calms Louis down, makes him want to crawl into their bed back at their apartment and do this all night and into the dawn.
When Zayn pulls back Louis follows, and finally they look at each other, and Zayn’s eyes are still swimming with that deep want.
And Louis wants this too, desperately, drunk or not, and he wants to wake up in his and Zayn’s bed today and tomorrow and every other day. But mostly today; he wants that awkward morning, because awkward mornings mean that something zealous and acute happened the night before. And Louis wants proof that this truly is as big of a mindfuck as it feels like at this moment.
So when Zayn throws his suit jacket over his shoulder, and pulls Louis outside the door, Louis’s stomach sucks into his spine with delicious anticipation. Behind them, the people are dancing, there are flowers outside the hotel.
Zayn takes a white rose and gives it to Louis, and Louis rolls his eyes.
Sentimental git. He says, and Zayn laughs, scouting out another place they could make a new memory.
Prompt: flowers
Pairing: Zayn/Louis
Rating: R
Word Count: 2,280
Warnings: swearing, drinking idk.
Summary: Louis comes to the conclusion that Zayn's a shitty friend.
This was written for 1directionelite.
Louis comes to the conclusion that Zayn's a shitty friend.
But it's too late a conclusion when Zayn's dragging him to his car, all doe-eyes and desperate plea. And okay, Louis doesn't know how and when did he agree to get on board with this, but he's wearing a suit! And it's so restricting and the stupid tie Zayn'd enforced on him is too suffocation, and just, no. Today isn't going to be a day he enjoys, at all.
He's in the passenger seat refusing to acknowledge Zayn; turning up the music so he doesn't have to. He kind of thought this weekend was about staying in and watching a movie or two, and definitely not wearing any clothes that's only purpose were to smother him. He flops around in his seat so that he's facing the window, and crosses his arms. "I don't even know why I am doing this."
"You're doing it because you're my friend." Of course Zayn would have something to say.
Louis turns to glare at him. "Your only friend. No one stands being within five-foot near you."
"I am pretty sure that's because you're always there. Intimidating them."
"Oh please, like you're just so charming."
"I am."
"You would think so."
"Louis."
"What, Zayner?" Louis arches an eyebrow and turns to look out the window in satisfaction when Zayn sighs.
"You're awful." He hears Zayn mutter, but it just means he's succeeded at provoking him, so he counts it as a victory.
Louis 1-0 Zayn.
Except at the end of the day, Zayn's the gold medalist, because Louis's the one who agreed to all of this in the first place. He tries hard not to voice what he had come down to, because then Zayn would be all smug and pleased with himself, and Louis can't have that.
The two of them had always been weird. College was this whole new world, and his mother told him not to trust anyone when he was out there by himself, just yet. But Zayn in graphic tees and thick glasses and looking utterly lost around campus seemed pretty trustworthy to Louis. Zayn smoked outside at night when he thought Louis wasn't looking. And Zayn was high and funny and made him feel good. Moreover, Louis was as equally high when he asked if they could move in together.
Which they did, because they just clicked or whatever it is other people say about them.
They're incurably co-dependant, constantly missing the warmth of each other. Sprawled up in bed, cuddled up against each other and all tangled limbs in the mornings. They nestled on the couch watching re-runs of bad television and back-to-back movies all day on weekends, eating whatever it is they could afford. (Which was take-out food most of the time, unless Zayn decided to fry up in their small kitchen.)
Zayn and Louis are heedless and nonchalant and they subside merely on each other.
Zayn pulls up the car to a stop and looks over to Louis. "Look, I don't want to be here as much you, but there are p-" A rap against the window interrupts whatever Zayn's just about to say, and Louis is kind of thankful for that. Zayn's father is standing there, smiling.
Before he skives off the car, Zayn gives Louis a meaningful look, which, okay, Louis doesn't think was necessary at all. He can be nice and helpful; it's not like, hard, or something.
Turns out, it is.
Trisha's really welcoming and all, but it's all good until she drags Zayn to meet people. Louis thinks those are probably the situations Zayn didn't want to get involved in, because he looks miserable, and not at all pleased that Louis's abandoning him. And okay, so maybe he's not that helpful, but a bit of socialising could do Zayn some good. (which he'll admit, isn't really what he wants Zayn to be doing at all)
Louis sinks into the chair he'd been ushered to. And he doesn't like this one bit. The tone of the flowers for once, and Zayn talking to someone at the far end of the room as second of his problems. He didn't come here so Zayn could talk to someone. Before he could think, Louis starts to where Zayn's standing, snakes an arm around him and smiles menacingly at the girl who'd been talking to Zayn.
"I need him back." he says, tugging on Zayn to follow him. And it's not like Zayn's objecting. "I hate when you do that." Louis says and Zayn's smiling, leans to kiss away the furrow in his eyebrows. Louis pulls a face and drags them both towards their seats.
More guests arrive and fill in the seats, some of which recognize Zayn, which Louis thinks is ridiculous because Zayn's not allowed to talk to anyone else when he's right here. "Talk to me instead," at some point, he leans in to whisper to Zayn who smiles apologetically at the person he had been talking to and presses closer to Louis. But Louis knows Zayn's far from apologetic. He knows how much Zayn hates small talk, and talking to people he hardly knows, in general.
Somehow, it matches with Louis's own control issues.
Zayn fiddles with the roses in his hand; plucks out petals and squad them on the stretch of Louis's thigh. Louis fixes a white one into Zayn's pocket, taps his hands against Zayn's chest and smiles a crinkly one at him.
The room's quiet, except for the bride and the groom and their vows. Louis leans in to whisper. "Knock knock."
Zayn's lips curl up, instantly. "Who's there?" he shoots back.
"Aramgeddon."
And Zayn's giggling inaudibly before he can even get to the punchline. "Armageddon who?"
Louis's grinning at him, leans in once again that his hair tickles the side of Zayn's face. "Armageddon out of here!" Zayn has to press both hands over his mouth, pressing his forehead onto Louis's shoulder as he forces back the convulsion he's pretty much going to break into if it weren't for the circumstances.
Louis nods proudly.
The thing's over before they know it, and they're too unaware of what's happened until everyone's up on their feet, throwing petals and rice over the newly-married couple.
Soon after, they get ushered to the reception. They get stewards shoving drinks at them, and there's a gourmet at the end of the room. But there are also so many people who stop to to make small talk. A few gush about how they make a cute couple, and of course, Zayn would just smile politely and tug Louis away from said people.
Louis is starting to think this place has really no way out when someone stops them to chat with Zayn near the door. Then they're being pulled back to the centre of the room where everyone's dancing to Hit Me Baby, One More Time. Louis looks at Zayn horridly, is this actually happening? Who plays that at their wedding.
Zayn merely shrugs, and accepts the drink a waiter pours him.
There are more people dancing, and Louis knows just how much Zayn hates that. But at least there are drinks that they chug down, one after the other, until it feels like their heads are swimming around in liquor and detach from the music and the laughter of the people.
"What's wrong, you look like you aren't having fun." Louis says meekly, taking the glass from Zayn's hand and downing it in one go.
"Do you want to get out of here?" Zayn says.
"Thought you'd never ask." Louis grins, curling his fingers around Zayn's and starting towards the door.
There is no context for this, they're both mad for one another, always over each other and are also being told they are, and they are both young, attractive and pissed on gin, and the feel of Zayn’s hips brushing Louis’s backside when they squeeze past one another to the door.
The hallway is decorated with yet more flowers, and finds Louis groaning at that much of it. Zayn's grinning though, catches a bouquet and tugs out a white rose to give Louis. It's just a habit he has, wherever they go somewhere, anywhere there's flowers, he would pull a white one for Louis. Louis rolls his eyes and takes it, coils it around the door knob of the room they squeeze into.
Once there's a door separating them and the rest of the world, Louis presses Zayn flat against the wall, and he looks swarming and coy and his dark hair makes his skin glow rich and bright, and Louis threads fingers in it and bites his lips, grates his hips down the front of Zayn’s pants, makes Zayn swear like a brute.
Zayn’s got long fingers, nimbling Louis's sides, somehow coordinated in spite of the slop of liquor swimming in his brain. It gushes through Louis’s veins in a burning hurry, makes him move fast to kiss Zayn with wet, sucking lips that make Zayn sigh against his jaw line. Zayn’s hands smooth down Louis’s spine and follow the curve of his back, his wrists catching the sides of Louis’s shirt, helping him out of it, and edging more skin out against his.
Louis bares his teeth against Zayn’s shirt, he sucks in a sharp breath and holds it, his entire body stops to focus on the feeling of skin friction and dazzling pressure when Zayn's fingers coast over his thighs. Hot blood whirl a spiral under his skin, and fast breaths that make him dizzy, send his weight loafing forward into Zayn’s steady chest.
It feels fucking good, so good. And Louis’s thighs are tight muscles gripping and flexing and then holding, and he’s chewing his own lips until he feels Zayn’s on the back of his head, leading his mouth upward. He kisses helplessly, tongue shuffling dumbly against Zayn’s, and Zayn is breathing hard and fast, his hips rocking with the movement of his hand.
And Louis chases away the dry taste of tonic out of Zayn’s mouth, and he fucks into the heat they're making. He rests all his weight in his hips, grinds into Zayn, and listens to Zayn groan at the pressure Louis forces onto him. With strength he pulls off his bones and slaps against Zayn’s shuddering frame, and he makes sure Zayn can feel every last inch of it.
Zayn’s head tips back against the crisp-clean walls, and his breath is hitched as it rushes out of him. Louis grazes teeth along Zayn’s neck and listens to the audible groan, feels it vibrate against his tongue, and he makes a noise in response, and the sounds flow right through him and tighten everything.
Zayn tries to catch his breath while Louis hits his knees on the polished floor. He rips Zayn's pants to his ankles and Zayn kicks out a leg, spreads them, and mindlessly knots fingers into Louis's hair.
"Fuck, Lou, on your knees, fuck," Zayn says, fingers clutching, knees bending as he roughly propel into Louis who's humming. He makes sounds, moaning, groaning, vibrating sounds, and he loves it, because with every last sounds he makes, Zayn whines and rolls his hips further.
He looks up, seeing Zayn's glazed eyes sharpening on him. Louis's eyes burn, his mouth is sore, his throat is raw. He lets it happen, feels a surge of Zayn's hand at his shoulder blade, and how utterly desperate Zayn is, how he's getting lost in it.
Zayn fucks with clout, fucks like he's on fire, fuck them breathless, fucks like he's scared Louis's not going to be his later.
And Louis splays fingers over the rug, makes claws, opens his mouth, bites his lips, tries to bite back his voice.
And he says, "More, fucking more, fucking harder." He's close and feels Zayn's palms skating over his stomach, dipping to his hips and stroking down his thigh. It's intimate, makes Louis clench around Zayn, makes him stutter out of breath.
Zayn picks his head up and kisses him, and Louis's mouth opens against him in relief, desperate sucking kisses and he finally hears a cracking moan and Zayn's face pushing into his hair.
Louis laughs when Zayn finally relaxes against him, taking a deep breath over Louis's chest and then sliding to Louis's side, resting hands on his chest to feel his own lungs heaving. Louis leans over and kisses Zayn hard, and exhausted and he isn't able but to still think about all of what this means.
Louis’s tugging his pants up, settling them back onto his hips, Zayn zips his fly for him and then tilts his face to kiss him the way lovers kiss when they haven’t seen each other all day. It is soft and inviting, not oppressive, only promising more, and it calms Louis down, makes him want to crawl into their bed back at their apartment and do this all night and into the dawn.
When Zayn pulls back Louis follows, and finally they look at each other, and Zayn’s eyes are still swimming with that deep want.
And Louis wants this too, desperately, drunk or not, and he wants to wake up in his and Zayn’s bed today and tomorrow and every other day. But mostly today; he wants that awkward morning, because awkward mornings mean that something zealous and acute happened the night before. And Louis wants proof that this truly is as big of a mindfuck as it feels like at this moment.
So when Zayn throws his suit jacket over his shoulder, and pulls Louis outside the door, Louis’s stomach sucks into his spine with delicious anticipation. Behind them, the people are dancing, there are flowers outside the hotel.
Zayn takes a white rose and gives it to Louis, and Louis rolls his eyes.
Sentimental git. He says, and Zayn laughs, scouting out another place they could make a new memory.