(no subject)
Title: Ours.
Pairing: Zayn/Liam, squint-and-you'll-miss-it Harry/Louis.
Summary: The door is closed, locked. This is theirs, and nobody else's.
AN: I don't even know what this is apart from the fact it's my first Ziam.
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Touring, no matter how enjoyable and exhilarating, is always tough. There's never your own bed to crawl in to, never that familiar scent of home waiting to welcome you after a long day and no dinner to make (which, according to Zayn, is a good thing. Take out is always easier. But Liam knows that nothing's better than something you prepare yourself and he sometimes wants to just sit the older boy down to something healthy. Lord knows he's had to do that with Niall enough times, but still.
Zayn's Zayn. And it's sort of cute the way he practically lives off chicken and chips.
Sort of.)
The worst parts are night time. By now, they've fallen into a routine. Whenever they stay at a hotel, Louis and Harry room together and Niall, by some fortunate twist of fate, lands himself with the single room. (They all know it's because he stinks the room out with his farts during the night, but they're too polite to bring that up in conversation. So it's fate, okay?) which leaves Liam and Zayn.
And it's never been weird. Not when Liam stays up to Skype with Danielle and Zayn sneaks off onto the balcony for a goodnight cigarette, or more recently, to make a phone call to Perrie. It's not weird because even if they stay up until twelve am talking to the girls, they stay up another two hours talking to each other.
It doesn't even get awkward after the kiss; which, yeah, neither of them find themselves thinking about when they're supposed to be talking about their relationships with the girls waiting for them back in England. (Except they do. And even though that should be weird, it's... not.)
The thing is, it's not like Liam doesn't love Danielle, (because he does. She's sweet, and funny, and everything he's ever wanted.) or that Zayn isn't extremely attracted to Perrie, (and he knows he is. Liam's a light sleeper and there's some things he hears during the night that he really wishes he doesn't, thank you very much.) It's just... they're different. They're not like Louis and Harry; they can go three days without seeing each other and they can lead their own lives without unintentionally revolving everything around somebody else, but.
They're not completely different from them, either. Because there's something there, even if they don't voice it aloud. They both know.
And when things get tough, when the road starts to seem endless and even Liam's having a hard time keeping track of the cities and towns they've visited, Zayn switches off. He doesn't think. (And he probably should, because if he doesn't then Liam will overthink. That's just what he does.)
He crawls into Liam's bed, feet cold and torso bare, smiling when the soft cotton of Liam's pyjamas (plaid? He thinks he recalls the pattern, but then again, it is ridiculously late. Or early. Depending on how you look at it.) warms his skin, and then they're curled around each other, resembling a shape that nobody can quite put a name to (and at the end of the day, that's what their relationship is, isn't it? Nameless. Not requiring a label, because they just are.)
Zayn's breath tickles Liam's neck and the stubble that should irritate his skin doesn't.
It's nice.
And Liam wants to say something, wants to put words to the situation and think, because if he doesn't then which one out of them will? But then there's a kiss being placed to the nape of his neck, soft lips against milky skin and it's enough to make him close his eyes and put off worrying until the morning.
Tomorrow Zayn will text Perrie, and Liam will call Danielle, and things wont be weird because the door is closed, locked. This is theirs, and nobody else's.
And for now, he doesn't speak at all.