Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at

http://download.archiveofourown.org/works/5244344.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: One Direction (Band)
Relationship: Zayn Malik/Harry Styles
Character: Louis Tomlinson, Liam Payne, Niall Horan
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe -
Fraternity, Fuckbuddies, Hipster Zayn, Frat Bro Harry, Angry Sex,
Bottom Zayn
Series: Part 1 of Not Your Baby
Stats: Published: 2015-11-19 Words: 45634

Baby Be Mine
by StormDancer

Summary

In which Zayn is an English major who hates frats, Harry is a frat bro with great arms, and
these things cause Zayn problems.

Notes

Here it is at last! I hope you enjoy :D Don't know/don't own anything, obviously.

Disclaimer: the opinions, vocabulary, and/or statements made by characters in this fic are
not indicative of my own beliefs. Not all of the characters, even the good ones, are always
PC or educated, and that's conscious, because not everyone in the world is. It does not
mean those are my beliefs, or necessarily the beliefs of the real people these characters are
reflections of--just of these specific characters in this world.

See the end of the work for more notes

Zayn knows the score the second he walks into section that Wednesday. Hell, he knew the score
when he signed up for the Introduction to Milton lecture, and even more when he saw who was in
the lecture hall the first week of class, but discussion section cinches it. He doesnt need his fellow
section sufferers names, even. Four freshmen looking wide-eyed and scared, one other
upperclassmen English major he recognizes vaguely who gives him a commiserating glance
before she goes back to her phone, one sophomore with the telltale look of the slump about him,
two non-entities, and the frat bro taking the easy A.

He manages to suppress his sigh as he takes the seat next to the other English major and pulls out
his pen. Its only an hour a week, he can last through it. Even if he knew he should have just
sucked it up and taken the seminar, despite it being senior fall and having senioritis and writing his
thesis and all that shit. At least there are people he can talk to in those classes.

Now that were all here, the TAa curly-haired woman with the tentative air of someone
whos not in academia for teachingsays from the front of the room, Lets get started. Here are
the syllabi, if you didnt pick them up in lecture, and a syllabus for section, expectations and all
that. Zayn takes the page a freshman passes him, glances at it before passing it on. Nothing
unexpected.

Before we go over it, the TA goes on, I thought wed introduce ourselves, even if we dont
remember the names past today. So, name, year, why youre taking the class. Theres a breath of
air in the room, like everyone sighed. Zayn hates the start of semesters. Ill start, the TA
continues, though not particularly enthusiastically. Like it says on the syllabus, Im Miriam, Im
in my third year of grad school, specializing in religious texts of the late Medieval era. Feel free to
contact me about anything you need help with, or come to office hours. Zayn presses down the
urge to start a chorus of hi Miriam. Its not her fault sections for classes that edge on easy As are
always drags. Okay, now you. She nods to the freshman next to her, with her open notebook
and no fewer than three different colors of pens.

Zayn promptly forgets the name of the two freshmen on the other side of the table, the two non-
entities, and the sophomore, before they get to the bro.

Im Harry, the frat bro drawls out. His voice is low and slow, the sort of voice that could put
you to sleep, but Zayn bets he wont be hearing much of it anyway. Hes pretty enough to look at,
with pouty pink lips and broad shoulders and massive arms bared by his tank top with greek letters
on it, but thats probably the only saving grace. Im a senior history major, and Im here because
my senior thesis is on this time period, and I wanted another perspective.

Zayn manages not to snort. Sure. Zayn knows what hes here forthe easy A. Thats always
what bros are in classes for. A way to keep his GPA up as he playsZayn surveys him. Not
football, hes built but not like that. Maybe a runner? Zayn cant tell until he stands up. And it
doesnt really matter. Zayn knows his type anyway. Hell probably be hungover through the
whole class, which is better than the other option, which is making jokes about, like, how Lucifer
is gay because he ran away or something.

He knows he didnt actually snort, or make any noise, but the bros eyes still turn to him. And
Zayn cant say he expected it, but he recognizes it anywaythe slow, blatant, up and down flick
of Harrys eyes, over Zayns face, down to the chestpiece that shows over the neckline of his t-
shirt, probably over the ink on his arms, back up to his face again, meeting his eyes. Theres no
mistaking the look there, the lazy attraction, the way he smirks when he sees Zayns caught him,
like Zayn should be pleased hes being leered at. Zayn rolls his eyes, and breaks the eye contact so
he can doodle again. He would think that Harry could at least try to be subtle, but hes a frat bro.
Subtle isnt in his genetics.

The sophomore introduces herself, then the other English majorSherri, rightthen Zayn has to
look up again. m Zayn, he says, Im a senior English major. Im taking this course because
Ive done a lot of work on the more modern side, and I want a more historical perspective. Its
not entirely untrue, even if Sherri gives him a quick smile. Zayn grins back. She gets the
distributional requirements subtext.
Harrys still watching him, unabashedly staring. Its almost disconcerting, if Zayn cared enough.
He doesnt, but he still meets Harrys gaze again, so he knows he cant intimidate him. Its like
animals and eye contact, Zayn figures. He cant look away first, because hes not letting Harry
establish dominance. Not this guy with his backward baseball cap and really fucking nice arms.

It doesnt seem to intimidate Harry, though. His lips just stay in that stupid smirk, and he fucking
winks before he looks back at the TA. Zayn rolls his eyes again. He has a feeling this is going to
be a long semester.

---

So, how was class?

Brilliant, course. The World War Two seminar wasnt bad. You? Zayn drops his backpack on
the ground near the door, then goes over to collapse onto the couch next to Jawaad, grab the
controller his cousin passes him.

Fine. Orgos gonna kick my ass. He hits a button, and the screen dings as he gets a shell.

Welcome to pre-med. See what you do for your moms approval?

Oh, fuck off. We cant all be the only boy and the first one to go to college and have our parents
think the sun shines out our ass.

Its a blessing, Zayn agrees, though hes pretty sure Jawaad doesnt know what it took to get
here, and passes Jawaad. It feels good. But like, you know your mom would love you even if
you ditched the pre-med.

Yeah. But I like it. Jawaad kicks at Zayns foot, as he plants another bomb. You okay? Youre
vicious.

Yeah. Zayn shakes his head, pushes the hair thats fallen from his topknot out of his face. He
likes this style, and it felt like time to ditch last years long hair for the shaved sides, but at least
when it was long it all stayed back. Just, like. Section. You know. Its all freshman and bros.
Gonna be a drag.

Its not entirely fair, Zayn has to admit. It was only the first class, and thats always a drag,
because theres nothing to say. But it will be, he knows it. Hell have to sit through being ogled, at
the very least, because Harry hadnt made any attempt to pretend he wasnt watching Zayn for
most of class.

No one interesting at all?

Zayn thinks, for a second, of Harry. Of his arms, and how theyd look pinning Zayn to the bed.
How his lips would look around Zayns cock. How hed looked at Zayn, with that look that was
somehow all sex on his face, even though they were in fucking class. How hed smirked like hed
thought Zayn would be up for it.

No, Zayn says, firmly. You? Its been a week, you in love yet?

Shut up, Jawaad retorts, sharp enough that Zayn knows hes hiding something. It was the same
way when they were kids, when Zaynd figured out Jawaad was hiding a failed test before his
parents had and gone to figure out a way to get him extra credit work before they could yell at
him. He knows that voice. And it makes sense. Jawaad does have that habit, falls in love at least
once a year. He doesnt get what it means, to guard his heart, because it can be dangerous to give
it away. Hes never known any risks. Zayn can only hope it stays that way.
Dont tell me, then. Zayn shrugs. Hell find out soon enough. On your left!

I fucking see him, man, lay off

---

Zayn ends up going to the next lecture. He doesnt think that will last very long, even though its
at 12:30 so hes often awake by then, but he might as well pretend hes going to actually go to
class. He chooses a seat on the edge of one of the aisles, so hopefully no one will want to sit in
one of the two seats between him and the wall, and opens up his computer. He does pull up a
word document to take notes if the lecturer says anything interesting that he wont get from the
reading, but he also opens up Chrome. Hes been thinking about a new tattoo, something for
senior year, and nows as good a time as ever to browse. He searches for lotus as the people
even later than him stumble in, bookmarking the ones with sort of the looks he wants.

I like that one. Zayns head whips around at the voice behind him. He thinks he recognizes it,
but please, nobut hes right. Its that frat bros, Harry, slow drawl, and its Harry sitting behind
him, with a notebook open on the desk, in another tank top that bares his arms and a backwards
baseball cap. He grins smugly at Zayns surprise. Hes got dimples. Fuck.

And I should care? Zayn snaps. He doesnt appreciate snooping. He really doesnt appreciate
his space being encroached on.

Youre prickly, arent you? Harry asks, like it doesnt matter that Zayn clearly doesnt want to
be talking to him. I like the one you just bookmarked. Itd look good in black and white.

Just because hes right is no reason to humor him. Yeah, Ill definitely take your opinion into
account, Zayn retorts.

You should. Harry leans forward, just enough outside Zayns space that he cant really call him
on it, but clearly with intent. Do the tattoos turn you on?

What?

Getting tattoos. Harrys full lips twist into a smirk. It turns people on, right? Is that why you get
them? Why youre getting another one?

Im getting another one because I want a symbol. Zayn knows he should reply, shouldnt
encourage him, but he cant quite help it.

Hm, Harry hums, low and deep in his chest. You should think about me when you get this
one.

Zayn snorts, and turns away. Ignoring him seems like the best bet. But now searching for the
tattoo feelsweird. Knowing hed always be thinking if Harry would be watching. He closes the
window, opens up the layout for the literary magazine hes been playing with for their first issue
this year. He doesnt have to, he knows; hes less the editor and more the editors friend who helps
out a lot but doesnt technically have any responsibility, but theyve had really stupid layouts for
the past few editions and now hes in a position to change that.

He keeps playing with it as the professor starts talking, taking notes when he says something
actually interesting, which he occasionally does. He thinks he hears the scraping of pen over paper
behind him, but really, he couldnt care less. He does know that he feels eyes on him almost the
whole class, like Harrys staring at him. Itsits not unflattering, and its not like Zayn doesnt
know how he looks, but itsintense.
Its just that hes a bro, and they dont know how to function if they arent hitting on someone,
Zayn figures, and notes down a bit about Miltons politics. He wishes hed worn a hood today.
Having eyes on the back of his neck is weird. But the one time he turns around to glare, to tell
Harry to fuck off because he might be able to do that to other people but Zayns not a piece of
meat to be stared at, Harrys looking very innocently at his notebook.

Hes fooling no one at all, Zayn thinks grumpily, and goes back to his notes. Fuck him. Zayns
here to learn, not have frat bros stare at him.

---

Hey.

Are you following me? Zayn demands, dodging a group of students heading the other way. Its
a nice crisp fall day, and hed love to sit on the grass and get some reading done before his next
class, but he cant do that if Harrys following him.

Im just leaving class. Harry holds up both his hands. Not my fault if youre going the same
way as my house, is it?

Probably, Zayn mutters. Harry laughs. Its a low rumble. His voice is really obscenely low.

And

Theres always an and.

I thought there was always a but, Harry shoots back.

Theres always a conjunction, then.

Oh? Harrys voice somehow changes, until its coated with sex, with invitation. Is there always
a with?

Theres always a when, as in, when are you going to get to the point? Zayn asks, sweetly as he
can. He wants to lie down in the grass with his book. If he stays around Harry much longer hell
probably be asking things about reps and football scores or something.

Cant I just enjoy your company?

Zayn huffs out a breath. You dont know my company enough to enjoy it, so no, you cant.
Unless you mean you like mentally undressing me, in which case, didnt you have your fill in
class?

Harry blinks, but he doesnt look fazed. His eyes are stupidly green. My frats having a party,
Saturday. He smirks again, like thats an irresistible proposition. You should come.

With an invitation like that, how can I not?

Oh, I can make it pretty if you want. Harry pulls off his hat, shakes out his hair. Its longer than
Zayn expected, thick and brown. He flutters his eyelashes, but the way he takes a step closer,
sauntering forward like his dicks leading him, leaves nothing to the imagination. Come to my
party. I promise youll have fun.

Yeah, I totally have fun at frat parties. Zayn rolls his eyes, and starts walking again.

Harry keeps pace with him. Definitely a runner, Zayn thinks, not able to avoid looking at his long
legs. Id make it worth your while.

Now thats irresistible.

Isnt it? Harry grins, those dimples appearing again. Okay, Im this way. Ill see you there.

Yeah, of course you will, Zayn agrees, not bothering to hide his sarcasm, and Harry laughs and
waves as he takes a turn down a side street towards Greek row. Even in sweatpants, hes got a
nice ass, Zayn cant help but notice. Hes an ass, but hes got a nice one too.

---

Know how youre my favorite cousin?

Wait thirty seconds until you ask me the favor, Zayn tells Jawaad. He needs to finish this
sentence, and then the paper will be done and he can send it off before the midnight deadline.
Who assigns a paper the second week of class, even if it is only five pages?

He hears the bed creak, which means Jawaads probably on it, but Zayn ignores him in favor of
finishing up his conclusion. He hits the period, saves, then spins around in his desk chair.

Sure enough, Jawaads sprawled on his bed. Its the one clear spot in the room, because Zayns
bed is sacred but nothing else is, and hanging up clothes is for someone who cares about the state
of their t-shirts. He folds the things he cares about. Okay, what?

My favorite cousin, Jawaad repeats, sitting up. Hes got the wide-eyed look on that always
reminds Zayn of being kids together, of the first time his father had sat Zayn down and told him to
look after his little cousins, because that was his job. To make sure they were all right. Its not why
he hangs out with Jawaad; they joke about favorite cousins but hes legitimately his best friend.
But theres always that streak of protectiveness Zayn doesnt try to hide. Jawaads still innocent, in
some ways, and he wants to keep him that way.

Yeah, sure. What am I doing?

Jawaad doesnt bother denying it, just rubs at his neck. Theres this girl.

Zayn grins. Knew it!

Yeah, well. Jawaad shrugs, Shes really cute, and weve been talking, andI think theres
something there. Anyway, shes going to be at this party Saturday.

Do you need me to wingman? Zayn asks. Hes not always the best at wingmaning, because
hes a little too quiet, too awkward in situations with a lot of people, but hes willing to try his
best. He knows what Jawaad looks like when he really likes a girl, and its like this. Even if it
might crash and burn again.

No! No, you cant beI dont want her seeing you, fuck. Do you know how many girls Ive lost
that way?

Hes joking, and Zayn knows it, but still. Its not like Im competition, he mutters. He doesnt
meanhe can be flirty sometimes, he knows, but he never meant that. Hed never do something
like that to Jawaad.

This time, its Jawaads turn to roll his eyes. Stop feeling bad. I get just as many girls who are
disappointed you dont play for your team. No, just. The partys at Delta Chi. They arent Pi Sig
or anything, are they?
Zayn can feel his eyebrows go up. Delta Chi? Youre going to a frat party.

Im going to a party at a frat, because theres a girl I like wholl be there, Jawaad corrects. Im
suffering for love, or something.

For your dick, maybe.

Zayn.

Yeah. Zayn sighs, and pushes his hair out of his face. Ill go.

No, thats not what Im asking. Do you think its a stupid idea? Im not the biggest guy and all,
do you think itll matter if theres all those comparisons?

If it does, fuck her. But Im coming.

I dont need you to wingman.

Tough luck. Zayn dodges the pillow Jawaad throws at him, but he doesnt say the other things.
That hes not letting his cousin go alone. That he doesnt think there will be an issue, but the kids
who used to have an issue with them, with their race or religion, generally are in frats now.
Jawaad doesnt know, really. Zayn had already fought the fights by the time he got to school, or
he got the fights away from him. But no, hes not letting Jawaad go alone. In case. Im coming.

Then no bitching.

That I cant promise, Zayn retorts, and catches the next pillow. He whips it back at Jawaad,
who flips him off and leaves, before he turns back to his computer to give his essay a read through
before he sends it in. If he gets this in now, he can try to get his Dostoyevsky reading done before
he goes to bed tonight.

---

No bitching, Jawaad warns, as they walk down Greek row. There are at least three other parties
going on that Zayn can hear, and he thinks he sees something fly out of a window down the street.
Joy of joys. This is definitely exactly where he wants to be of a night.

Still, I wasnt! Zayn protests. Hes been nice. He got properly dressed up, in tight jeans and
boots and a MTV sweatshirt he ripped the sleeves off ages ago. Its too hot out still for his leather
jacket, but thats probably a good thing. Its the one article of clothing he splurged on, he doesnt
want it getting ruined in PBR and grain and probably vomit. I didnt say anything.

You were thinking it, Jawaad informs him, fairly accurately, as they reach a door with Delta Chi
on it, in big letters. If that wasnt enough to give it away, the pounding bass inside would be. Zayn
sighs. Its not a bad looking house, he guesses, a normal sort of townhouse in an indeterminate
greenish sort of color, with the lettering on it in what would probably be a bright gold in daylight,
but that doesnt make whats inside any more appealing. Come on.

This girl better be worth it, Zayn warns, and pulls open the door.

Inside, its hot and loud, filled with people and the thrum of the bass. It smells heavily of sweat,
with so many people packed in, and Zayn wrinkles his nose as he closes the door behind them.

They fight their way through guys in t-shirts and jerseys and girls in miniskirts towards the
kitchen, because Zayn is sure as hell not doing this sober. Theres a blonde guy in the kitchen,
wearing a Delta Chi tank top and standing behind what looks like a makeshift bar.
What can I get you? he yells over the music, as they fight their way up.

Zayn glances at the array of alcohol. Jack and coke, he demands, And

Same. Jawaad fills in. The guy gives them a broad smile, like thats the most brilliant thing in
the world, and pours them two solo cups, with generous amounts of whiskey in both, at least.
Zayn takes a long drink of his when the blonde hands it over. It burns going down, the sort of
burn that might get him through this.

Thanks, he tells the blonde, who laughs. Hes flushed, clearly drunk already.

Have fun! Beer pong tournament at one.

Riveting. Zayn toasts him, then gets out of the way.

He loses Jawaad half an hour in, because he spots a pretty blonde girl who must be the one hes
looking for and runs off, with a final warning from Zayn to get him if theres any trouble at all.
Then Zayn really has nothing to do but drink more, and keep an eye on Jawaad. He chats with
whoever comes over to the wall hes holding up, but he cant really say he has any interest in it,
given most of the chatting is a few girls flirting, who he puts off as gently as he can. At least the
blonde guy behind the table has an infectious grin, and he gives Zayn alcohol each time he comes
back for it, which makes him better than the rest in Zayns book.

Hes four drinks in, leaning against the wall watching the beer pong tournament, where the blonde
guy and another massive man who seems to be called Bressie if the cheerings anything to go
from demolish all comers, when suddenly theres a body next to him, and maybe Zayns just
drunk enough, but he knows who it is before he looks.

Harrys looking good, of course. Hes not wearing a hat and his hair is thick and looks good for
pulling, and his cheeks are red and his lips dark with some sort of juice probably, and he smiles
slow and knowing. Zayn! Didnt think youd come. Zayn doesnt know if hes doing it on
purpose, but the way hes leaning against the wall make the muscles in his arms flex and bulge.
Fuck.

Its not for you, Zayn assures him. He knows that. I just, like. Someone else.

Yeah. Harrys definitely in his space this time, not quite caging him in but close enough Zayn
has to tilt his head up to look at him. I saw you with that guy. Your boyfriend?

Zayn shakes his head, licks his lips to wet them. Harrys definitely watching that. Cousin.

Good.

Yeah? Zayns itching for a cigarette suddenly, antsy with it. What would you have done if he
was my boyfriend?

Seen if you were up for a threesome, Harry replies immediately, still in that low, slow drawl. It
gets a laugh out of Zayn, though hes not sure Harry meant it like that until he sees Harry grin,
pleased with himself. There. I was wondering if you could do anything with those lips but
scowl.

I dont scowl.

Sure you do. Its pretty. Harrys gaze flick from his lips to his eyes. Makes me wonder what
else would make your lips look pretty. Zayn rolls his eyes, and one side of Harrys lips quirks
up. Like laughing, I meant!

Sure he did, but Zayns a little too drunk to get into that. I can laugh. Zayn protests. It just
usually happens around my friends.

Yeah? Harry definitely purrs it, a vibration going through Zayn too. Hes too hot, he thinks.
Too hot and drunk and hes not sure what Harrys game is here, if its more than the obvious.
Then again, he probably doesnt think past the obvious, and hes got those arms. What if I dont
want to be your friend?

Zayn shakes his head, trying to clear it. Its too hot in here. Im going for a smoke, he
announces, and pushes past Harry to go find the backyard. Theres a group of people passing a
joint around on a couch, but Zayn settles on the opposite side of the yard from where a sharp-
faced boy holds court. He doesnt want to deal with that.

You smoke? He sort of expected Harry to stay behind, find someone else, but apparently he
thinks Zayn is hot enough that he followed him out.

No, its ironic. Zayn rolls his eyes as he flicks open his lighter. Harrys face is bright in the flare
of light, flushed and really annoyingly something Zayn wouldnt mind tasting. Yeah, I smoke.

Youre going to get cancer.

No, really? No ones ever told me that, Zayn retorts, and Harry laughs. Zayn brings the cigarette
to his lips, lets the smoke fall out from between them, enjoying the way Harry watches. Im
trying to quit. But its taking a while.

Hm. Suddenly, Harrys close again, almost close enough that Zayn could burn him with the
cigarette, if he wanted. I could give you something else to do with your mouth.

Its such a bad line. Its such a bad, horrible line, but Harrys arms are big and the muscles are
rippling next to Zayns head, and his lips are full and pink, and fuck it all, this is what college is
for, right? Doing stupid shit like sleeping with frat bros.

Yeah, fine, Zayn agrees, stubs out his cigarette, and kisses Harry.

He doesnt seem to expect it, his lips still under Zayns for a second, but then he gets with the
picture. He tastes like cheap vodka and cheaper beer, but theres something sweet underneath, and
fuck, but he can kiss. Harry presses forward so Zayns pushed back into the wall, so he can get a
hand around Harrys neck and keep him there, lick at his lips until Harrys mouth opens and he
really can see what they teach at frats. His other hand roams over Harrys back, muscles and skin
and bones underneath, and Harrys hands are on his sides, his hips, his back, his ass, until even
this is too far away, and he hooks a leg around Harrys to bring him closer. He can feel Harry
against him, getting hard, and Zayn cant look but it feels big.

Fuck, Harry moans, as Zayn drags his lips away to kiss at his neck. He doesnt have much
facial hair, but Zayns never been a fan of beard burn on him and hes got a nice jaw. His hands
are on Zayns ass now, and theyre big, big enough that Zayns mouths watering a little. Do you
wantIve got a room.

So classy, Zayn retorts, but, Yeah, lets go. Whatever. Maybe hell get it out of his system. He
doesnt really care, he just wants Harrys hands on him more, wants to see how Harrys arms
looking holding him up above him.

Now whos romantic? Harry retorts, and tugs his mouth back up for another kiss, nipping at
Zayns lip until he moans, and pushes at Harrys (very broad, very firm) chest.
Come on, lets go. Hes burning, and he wants Harrys pants off, wants to see if hes as big as
Zayn thinks he might be.

Harry pauses, though, because he cant even do this conveniently, and his eyes narrow. How
drunk are you?

Great, the one frat bro in the world who doesnt want to take advantage of a drunk partier. Drunk
enough I want to do this, not so drunk I cant quote Friends at you, he replies, with a roll of his
eyes. He thinks hes going to strain a muscle in his eyes, at this rate. That good enough for you?

Harry laughs again, and this time when he kisses him, he cups his face, somehow almost tender
despite the dirty grind of his hips against Zayns. Yeah, he says, and lets go of Zayn to lead the
way back into the house.

Zayn doesnt bother looking around the room Harry shows him into, just shuts the door and kisses
Harry again, dragging through Harrys hair. Harry groans when he tugs, his hips stuttering a little,
so Zayn does it again, smirking when Harry makes that sound again.

Sensitive? he coos, and Harry grimaces at him.

Fuck you. Maybe his sport is wrestling, because Zayn ends up on his back on the bed, and
Harrys lips are on his throat this time, so Zayns head falls back. It distracts him enough he
doesnt realize Harrys pulling his shirt off until his lips leave Zayns skin long enough to tug it the
rest of the way off, throwing it on the floor somewhere. Zayn thinks he should protest, but Harrys
staring.

Zayn smirks, lifting himself up on an elbow as Harrys eyes follow the lines of his ink. Hes not
built particularly, but he knows he looks good.

Like what you see? he asks. Its a perfect place for snark, but Harry just grins, excited, and leans
down to lick a long, slow line from Zayns jeans to his navel, keeping eye contact with Zayn as he
does. Fucking hell! Harrys laughing at him, but Zayns too turned on to care, especially when
he moves up to circle Zayns nipples with his tongue, so Zayn shivers and grabs at Harrys ass
while hes there, to keep him close enough to grind into. Zayn knew his ass would feel as good as
it looked, enough that he cant quite stop the displeased sound when Harry shifts back to sitting,
so Zayn cant hold on anymore.

You can feel me up more later. Harry doesnt sound very sorry, and he doesnt look it, his lips
swollen, his eyes bright. But then he pulls off his own shirt, and Zayn finds it in him to forgive
him. Theres a really stupid butterfly on his chest, and some also stupid laurel leaves that run down
his hips under his jeans, and he still somehow manages to make Zayn want to lick them, to follow
the line of the laurels to the logical end.

Like what you see? he drawls, and in response Zayn doesnt have a choice but to shove at him
until Harrys the one on his back, and Zayn can do exactly what he planned, tracing each line of
the laurels he can get at until Harrys squirming and moaning and needy in a way that makes Zayn
grin.

You gonna tease, or you gonna do something? Harry demands, at last.

Zayn lifts his head, licks his lips so he knows theyre shiny with spit and Harrys eyes go dark. He
wants to tease, he does, but the bulge in Harrys jeans is really impressive and hes wanted to get
his mouth on that since theyve started.

Its just as impressive when Zayn gets it out, shoving Harrys jeans open and down far enough
that his dicks free. No boxers, he notes idly, but he doesnt really care if Harry did expect to get
laid tonight. Zayns not one to be intimidated by other guys size, but if he was, he would be by
Harry. Hes less intimidated by Harrys smug face, like he knows what Zayns thinking. But
whatever, Zayn can put up with that for licking up his dick, mouthing over the head until Harrys
moaning properly.

Zayn doesnt take a lot of time, but he is thorough, sucking and licking and kissing with a hand on
Harrys hip and another alternating between cupping his balls and stroking the parts of his cock
Zayn cant get in his mouth. Harrys hand finds its way to Zayns hair, but he doesnt push or
anything impolite, just holds on, tightening when Zayn does something he knows he should
replicate. His jaws starting to ache, echoing the ache in his cock that hes keeping at bay by
grinding against the sheets for friction, by the time Harrys hand tightens again. Im gonna
come, he warns, and Zayn would smile if his mouth wasnt otherwise occupied.

He tightens his grip just a little around his cock, hollows out his cheeks as he sucks, glancing up
through his eyelashes to meet Harrys eyes, and Harry swears again. He looks properly undone,
his hair messy and his whole chest red and his eyes half-lidded and dark. Hes still swearing when
he comes, his head thrown back and his eyes squeezed shut.

Zayn swallows, making a face even though Harrys come isnt the worst hes had in his mouth,
keeps stroking Harry through it until he starts to soften, when he pulls off. Harry looks loose,
boneless as hes sunk into the mattress, his lips curved into a smile. Which is all well and good for
him, but Zayn still has an issue.

Are you gonna be useless now? he asks, sharply as he can.

Give me a second. Harrys hand waves, but then its cupping Zayns head, bringing him up to
kiss him slowly, Harry licking at his mouth like he likes the taste of himself. Thats hot enough
that Zayns rutting against Harry, desperate, but fuck if hes getting himself off, hes not letting
Harry get away with that.

Hes almost reconsidering that stance by the time Harry stops kissing him.

Okay, on your back, he orders, and Zayn doesnt usually follow orders like that, but hes
desperate and he wants Harry to touch him and Harrys voice is dark and low and sure. Harry
props himself up on his elbow for a second, looking him with lazy, appreciative eyes, and Zayn
appreciates it, he does, but hes also got a bit of a situation here. He brings Harrys attention to it
with a moan and a roll of his hips, and Harrys lips twitch.

Youre impatient.

I know what I want, Zayn corrects.

And Zayn will give him thisHarry delivers. His mouths hot and warm and his lips were made
to be on a cock, and Zayns not sure if he has a gag reflex or not but hes leaning towards the
latter. Even if he does, he sucks cock like he doesnt care, loud and enthusiastic and messy, and
Zayns on edge enough that he lasts barely a respectable amount of time before hes gasping out a
warning. Harry hums his acknowledgment, a hum that goes right from Zayns dick to every nerve
ending, then he somehow manages to take Zayn even deeper, and Zayns coming on a quiet gasp
and a wave of pleasure.

Fuck, Harry breathes, when Zayn collapses back. Hes looking at Zayn, at all of him, it seems
like.

Yeah, Zayn agrees. It about sums it up.

---

Zayn wakes up alone. He cant say hes surprised, or even really displeased, as he stretches,
rolling onto his back so that the suns out of his eyes. It saves him the awkwardness of a morning
after, and he knows himself and his tendency to cuddle in bed. He really wouldnt want to wake
up spooning Harry. Ideally hed have gone home last night, saved himself the walk of shame, but
its too late for that now. Harrys bed was comfortable, and if he sneaks out now, theres still a
chance Jawaad will have gone home with that girl and he wont notice Zayn didnt spend the
night at theirs.

It was nice of Harry to let him sleep, though, Zayn has to admit. Or maybe he just didnt want to
deal with the awkwardness of kicking Zayn out, so it was easier this way. No good way to sneak
out when your hook ups in your bed.

Whichever way, he can do them both a favor and get gone. He doesnt especially want to spend a
lot of time here anywayhes got reading and some shit for the magazine to do, and hes meeting
Claire for coffee in the afternoon. And he needs a shower. So he rolls out of bed, doing up the
jeans they hadnt quite managed to get out of last night. He finds his shirt folded neatly on a chair,
which is either weird or a message to get out. Zayn actually thinks its more likely its just weird
the whole room is pretty neat, from the Packers jersey and Mick Jagger poster mounted on the
walls to the rows of CDs on a shelf to neatly closed dresser. Its definitely neater than Zayns
room.

Zayn pulls on his shirt, checks to make sure his wallet and phone are both in his pockets still, and
glances in the mirror on the back of the door to make sure he doesnt look too walk of shame.
Some of it is unavoidable, but he grabs a hair tie off the dresser, ties his hair up into a top knot.

Then he slips out the door, quietly as he can in his boots. Its only eleven, so he figures everyone
in the house should still be asleep, after a party like last nights that was still going on when hed
crashed. He doesnt want to be awake, but hell take it if it gets him out alone, then he can go
home and crash for another few hours.

He makes it all the way downstairs, passing by the solo cups and other random crap scattered
around the floor, and hes just about to get to the hall when he hesitates. He doesnt want to just
disappear. Thats an asshole move, and he has to see Harry again. And he at least has some basic
manners. Its too late to leave a note, and waiting around for Harry to get back would defeat the
purpose, but theres someone puttering in what he remembers is the kitchen, so he sticks his head
in, clears his throat so the guy turns around.

Hey! the guya brunette in gym shorts that reveal a really ripped torsosmiles, welcoming
and almost a little shy. Fucking hell. Do you want some coffee, or breakfast?

Zayn blinks. What? Hed been expecting hostility at worst, judgment at best.

Coffee? Its just ready, some of the guys should be getting up soon. Do you want some?

Um. Zayn glances at the door. No, I was just gonna go, but

Did Haz get back, then? the guy asks. The smell of coffee is starting to make its way through
the sweat and booze aroma, and its starting to be tempting. The kitchens a mess, more cups and
the booze still out and dirty dishes everywhere, but the guy doesnt appear to notice.

Haz? Zayn either needs more sleep, or hes still dreaming.

Oh, werentI thought you were the guy who was with Harry last night? He honest to god
blushes. Its adorable. Zayn wants to pinch his cheeks. Which is weird, because first of all, hes
definitely bigger than Zayn, and second, hes got every mark of being just as much a bro as Harry.
Sorry, man. I didnt mean to assume.

No, I was, I justyeah. Well, Zayn will give him this, he doesnt seem to be judging on the gay
thing.

Well then. Coffee? He holds up a pot, smiling invitingly.

Is that coffee? The demand comes at a yell downstairs, loud enough that whoever it is clearly
doesnt give a fuck if they wake people up.

Come and get it! Liam calls back. Its as good a time as any for Zayn to inch backwards out the
door, but then another guy appears at the door blocking Zayns escape, the sharp-faced guy Zayn
had seen smoking last night, in sweatpants and a tank top.

Give it, he demands, holding out his hands; the ripped guy puts a mug in them, and he takes a
long sip.

Tommo, youve got to shut the fuck up, a third guy moans, coming in. Zayn vaguely recognizes
him as the blonde whod been manning the bar, then winning at beer pong. People are asleep.

I wasnt. And Payno was tempting me with coffee.

Want some, Niall? the ripped guy offers. The blonde shakes his head, then crosses the room to
the fridge to pull it open. He emerges with a can of Bud Lite. Of course.

Niall

I need hair of the dog to deal with this shit, he says, but with more of a laugh than the scowl
Zayn would have if he had to clean this mess up. Then he turns to Zayn. Whore you?

Hes the guy Harry hooked up with last night, the ripped guy replies. Zayn wonders if its worth
trying to head that rep off, but without a name its whatever. Its not like he has any reason to see
these people again.

The sharp-faced guy scans Zayn, and oh, theres the judgment. Think you stumbled into the
wrong party, mate.

Louis

Not your mate, Zayn retorts. And Im leaving. I just wanted you to tell Harry

Tell me what? Zayn turns to see Harry in the doorway. Hesfuck, he must have just come
back from a run, or the gym, or something, because hes slick with sweat and his t-shirts sticking
to his chest and Zayn wants to lick him everywhere. This would all be so much easier if he wasnt
so damn hot.

Harry must notice, because he smirks a little, then saunters over to Zayn, moving again like hes
drawn by his dick. His hands land on Zayns hips, not quite pulling him in. Hey, baby, he purrs,
the same deep, throaty rumble thats more sexy than it should be. I was hoping youd still be in
my bed.

Okay. Hot, but Zayn has standards, and hes not doing this, and especially not with an audience.

No. He says it firmly, taking a step back so Harrys hands fall away. He considers poking at
Harrys chest, but that feels stereotypical. Im not your baby, or whatever pet name. We hooked
up, thats all. And now you saw me so Im not sneaking out, so Im out. He steps around Harry,
so he can get to the hall. Harrys mouth is a little open, like he never had anyone say no to him
like that. He probably hadnt. Well, good, Zayn thinks, as he nods a little awkwardly to the other
guys, then turns and leaves. He could do with some of the arrogance knocked out of him. Waiting
in his bed. Right.

Whatever, it was a good night, and good sex, and he was good for that at least. And with any
luck, Jawaad wont be awake yet and he wont be teased for forever.

His luck isnt holding, apparently, because Jawaads in the kitchen when he comes home, and he
grins when he sees Zayn in last nights clothes. Have a good night? he asks.

Zayn doesnt stop on his way to his room. He needs sleep. At least I got some.

Im wooing her! Jawaad insists, and Zayn flips him off before closing his door behind him. A
good Saturday night. Now he and Harry can ignore each other forever in class, which wont be
hard given he doesnt expect Harry to say anything in the class, and the semester can go on.

---

Thats a good point, Lucas, Miriam says. Shes more patient than Zayn would be; the
freshmans trying, hell give him that, but he hadnt scraped past the surface. Anyone else? She
scans the room, but no one raises their hand. Theres only about two minutes until sections over.
What about you, Harry? You havent said anything.

Harry blinks, all big eyes. Hes slouched in his chair, as he has been for all of class. He definitely
hadnt been taking notes (though its not like Zayn had done more than doodle, really). Zayns not
sure if he actually fell asleep, but he thinks he didnt, because it had felt like someone was looking
at him for most of class, and hes pretty sure it wanst Lucas.

Well, I mean, he starts slowly. Very slowly. Zayn would be surprised if he even opened his
book. What comes out of his mouth isnt wrong, Zayn supposeshes just not entirely sure it
means anything, or is anything more than restating what Miriam just said with a few jokes and
smiles thrown in. Its as much as he could expect, really. Miriam smiles, clearly thinking the same
thing, then glances at the clock.

Okay, you all can go, she announces, and ten books slam shut at the same time, including hers.

Zayn nods a good-bye to Sherri, shoving his book into his backpack, before he heads to the door.
The classroom is out of the way enough that there arent many students there, and that he hears the
feet behind him, clearly hurrying.

He knows its not high school, that there hasnt really ever been a problem here, that theres a TA
mere feet behind himbut he still spins around as soon as he hears the feet, his body tensing
instinctively.

But its only Harry, trotting to catch up to him. Hes grinning, almost smirking at the tension in
Zayns body. Hey! hes not panting at all as he catches up. Fancy seeing you here.

Yeah, s amazing how were in the same class and all.

Harry doesnt seem put off by Zayn, falling easily into step. You ran out of there pretty fast. You
do that often?

Am I supposed to wait around?

Well, you left the house pretty fast on Sunday. Id hoped we could have some fun. Harry sticks
out his lower lip into a pout thats somehow both at odds with the broad shoulders and strong jaw,
and perfectly fitting.

What are you doing? Zayn demands. He doesnt have the patience for this, for whatever game
Harrys playing. Saturday was supposed to get this out of his system, not keep Harry around.
Dont you know how it works? We hooked up. Now we never talk again, and you go back to
your tailgates or whatever.

He tries to hurry his pace, to get away, but Harrys legs are longer and he keeps up. Yeah, that
could be how it works, Harry agrees easily. But, youre really hot. Zayn snorts. As far as
flattery goes, that could be better. And the sex was really good. So we could do it again.

Smooth, Styles.

Arent I? Harry grins, clearly pleased with himself. Its cute. It shouldnt be, but it is. Come on,
baby. We had fun.

Not your baby, Zayn retorts, because thats the first thing he needs to address. And what am I
supposed to do, blow you in the bathrooms?

If you wanted. Harrys voice shouldnt be as hot as it is, and it shouldnt make Zayn remember
that night, how Harrys cock had felt in his mouth, how his jaw had ached the next day in the best
way. Or you could give me your number.

What, so I can be your booty call? Zayn snorts, fiddling with his earring. Harrys gaze follows
that, catches on the black studs with something like heat. Thanks, Im honored, but no.

Then I could give you mine. That voice again, that low purr, and Harry saunters closer. You
could use it when youre feeling lonely.

Im not lonely often. But Zayns mouth is a little dry, and Harrys look is all sex, all want, and
Zayn knows exactly the seduction routine hes pulling and hes not even sure he cares. Hes just
really fucking hot. Its a problem.

Just in case you need something I can give. Harry pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket, and
tucks it into Zayns, his fingers lingering right against Zayns thigh for a beat. He opens his mouth
to say something more

Then, Styles! What are you doing? Weve got to hit the gym! comes a call, and Harry takes a
step back, letting his hand drop. Zayn stays where he is, eying Harry. This is where he shoves him
down the stairs so all his friends can laugh, or says something no homo, or steals Zayns fucking
lunch money.

But instead, Harry just salutes, grins, then turns to jog off down the stairs. He jumps onto the back
of one of the guys waiting on the landing, who Zayn thinks was ripped bro from the kitchen,
punching his shoulder before he hops off, and disappears down the stairs.

Zayn lets out a breath. Hes not going to use the number, obviously. Harrys playing with him for
some reason, but hes not going to be a ranking on some frats list of hook ups, or anything.

He glances out the window. The pack has made it outside, and he catches the green of Harrys
baseball hat, the gleam of the sun on his hair, his shoulders. He can still feel the heat of his breath
on his cheek, the way his fingers had felt through Zayns jeans.
Its not his fault the stupid frat bros really hot, he decides, and enters the number into his phone as
Bro Harry.

The phone rings just as he hits save, and he grins as he answers, finally heading down the stairs
himself.

Whats up, Caro?

I have a little girl here who is desperate to brag to her godfather about how she went to the
playground today, Caroline tells him, and Zayn grins. Theres nothing like hearing from them to
brighten up his day.

Put her on. He pushes open the door to head into the sunshine. Its still nice enough that there
are plenty of people out on the quad. He cuts across the grass, dodges a stray Frisbee, as Brooklyn
chatters about the swings and the seesaw and how she played in the sandbox.

Heads up! comes a call, and Zayn jerks away barely fast enough that the football doesnt hit him
in the head. He turns to glare at whoever threw that, because he is on the fucking paths and they
shouldnt be throwing over it. A dark-haired, blue-eyed guy in a Pi Sig tank takes a look at his
glare, then starts laughing. Theres a PBR can at his feet.

Thanks! Zayn calls. He cant swear, because Brooklyns still on the phone, but he hopes his
tone makes it clear he would.

Oh, fuck off! One of the other boys calls back. The first guy is still looking at him, a note Zayn
recognizes from too many encounters in high school. Zayn covers the phone as best he can, so she
doesnt hear, and keeps walking. Its not worth it, and theres too many of them.

Then theres another football hitting the ground a foot to his right. Zayn doesnt let himself jump,
doesnt let himself turn around to confront the laughter he can hear behind him, the clink of
bottles.

What did you say, babe? he asks Brooklyn instead, holding the phone to his ear. Oh, a tire
swing! Thats cool. Did mommy push you on it?

---

Zayn more or less forgets about Harrys number. Or thats what he tells himself, anyway; theres
no reason to think about it. Sure, its in his phone, but there are other people Zayn could hook up
with if he wanted to. Theres no reason to think about Harry, with his smirk and his arms and his
cock and that irritating arrogance in the way he looked at Zayn, the way he talked to Zayn, like he
knew Zayn wanted him.

So no, Zayn doesnt think about the number. He has to start his senior thesis anyway, and that
means long hours in the library; then he has to deal with all the comments Claire has about his
layouts for the magazine, most of which are right but some of which are wrong enough that they
get into sniping matches over it at the dining hall while Jawaad and Marta laugh; and he has to
deal with Jawaad mooning over that girl, which only gets worse as the week goes on.

So? Marta asks, popping up next to him, almost close enough he jumps. What do you think?

Zayn takes a long look at the painting on the wall. Its cool, all abstract colors and shapes that
seem angry and passionate and yearning all at once. Not for the first time, looking around the
hallway which acts as an art gallery for the students, Zayn wishes he hadnt given up his art. He
wasnt much good, he knows, but this makes him yearn. Its amazing, he says, and means it.
She grins, a quick pleased thing, and tucks her short-chopped black hair behind her head.
Thanks! Glad you could come.

I wasnt going to miss this, Zayn protests. He and Marta have been friends since they lived next
door to each other in the dorms freshman year, and he needed refuge from the pounding bass that
played at all hours under his room. Hed exchanged sanctuary for cigarettes and sometimes weed,
and thus a friendship was born.

Well, I wasnt sure. I heard you were hanging out at Delta Chi last weekend.

Zayn rolls his eyes. Hook up with one guy in a frat, and suddenly everyone knows. Jawaad
wanted to go. I couldnt let him go alone.

Thats what you always say. She laughs, elbowing him in the side. Shes small, even
proportionately to Zayn, but her elbows are sharp. I think you just have a type.

Fuck off. Like Id have anything to do with anyone there. He snorts. About as much chance as
you and the Beta Nu girls hanging out.

What, you dont, like, think Id make a great sorority girl? she coos, pitching her voice high. I
could totally talk about nails and get my MRS degree and who slept with who in Alpha Rho!

Oh my god, what did you do to my girlfriend?

Zayn laughs as Claire comes up behind Marta, pulls her into a hug. Theyve always been a bit of a
study in opposites, since they started going out sophomore year and Zayn got conned into
friendship with Claire too: Marta all delicate features and clearly first generation from Korea;
Claire a tall broad brunette Amazon of a girl. But they fit, always have. Dont blame me. Zayn
holds up his hands. Shes your responsibility.

I am, Marta agrees, tipping her head back to kiss Claires cheek. Did you see everything, babe?
Can I take you around?

Of course. Zayn, I need to talk to you, I think we can keep that inch for Nates poem

We dont have an inch, Zayn retorts. Either the font needs to be smaller or he needs to cut
something.

Hes not going to cut something.

Well

Okay, no, come tell me how brilliant I am. Marta takes Claire firmly by the arm and drags her
away, Claire mouthing well talk over her shoulder. Zayn cant help his smile, and he makes
another slow circuit of the room.

He knows how nervous Marta was about her first showing this year, so he lingers, maybe not
making proper small talk because thats not his forte, but he talks to people when they talk to him,
about Martas art or classes they share or have shared, drinks a few of the cups of wine Marta set
out, and even chats with a couple kids he knows from the magazine or classes or other shit around
school, until its done, and then he helps clean up because he doesnt have anything better to do
on a Thursday night other than go home and do his reading for his Kant seminar.

Finally, all the tables are put away and the garbages in the bin, and Zayn follows Claire and
Marta upstairs.
Thanks for your help, Marta tells him, grinning. Her grin always looks a little too big for her
face, in the best way. Youre the best.

I know.

She laughs, and rises up on her tip-toes to plant a smacking kiss on his lips. Thanks babe.

Tell your girlfriend to stop hitting on me, he complains to Claire, laughing. I know Im pretty,
but shes not my type.

I try, but you really are just so pretty, Claire retorts, laughing as she wraps an arm around
Martas waist, her hand slipping into Martas back pocket.

Ill let it go because this was great, he tells Marta. You smashed it, babe.

Didnt I? she grins, bouncing up on the balls of her feet with nervous energy. It was awesome.
I was amazing.

You certainly were. Claire turns, hooks her other finger into Martas jeans so theyre face to
face. And youre hot when youre in artist mode.

Oh am I? Marta giggles, and presses up to kiss her girlfriend.

Zayn rolls his eyes. Honestly. Ill be going, then.

Marta separates long enough to call, Bye! before turning back to Claire.

Its notits not that Zayn wants that, really. He doesnt not want that, but its not his priority. He
justits been almost a week since he had sex, and hes had enough wine that hes antsy, and he
wouldnt say no to that sort of contact. To someones hands on his ass, pulling him up into a kiss.
Someones body against his, hot and hard. Someones cock

Fuck it. Its the wine, he decides, and pulls out his phone. Theres a solution to not being able to
stop thinking about how Harrys arms would look pinning him onto the bed.

Its zayn. You doing anything?

Harry texts back almost immediately, which is flattering enough. I have a feeling Ill be doing you.
Im at the house.

God, sometimes Zayn hates himself. Ill be there in ten, he replies, and slips his phone back into
his pocket.

Greek row is on the other side of campus, so he has to circle back around to get there. Claire and
Marta are still where he left them, their foreheads pressed together. They dont even pay attention
to the wolf-whistle that echoes across the quad, as a pack of guys head from Greek Row probably
to a bar.

Zayn ignores them too, shoving his hands into his pockets and tucking up his collar as he heads to
Greek Row.

He can hear the noise in the house as he knocks on the door. Its not the loud, thumping bassline
of the place a few houses down, where theres clearly a party going on, but the bass is still there,
and there are some yells from inside. Because what else are you supposed to do on a Thursday
night, he wonders, as he knocks.
The doors pulled open. Its not someone Zayn recognizes, probably a freshman from the air of
enthusiasm around him. Yo.

Yo, Zayn parrots, unable to help himself. Harry here?

The guys gaze seems to take in everything from his skinny black jeans to the oversized sweater
hed put on in defense of the slight fall chill. Um, yeah, he says, despite that, and steps back to
let Zayn in. Hes in the living room.

Great. Because he couldnt have the courtesy to meet Zayn at the door, of course.

Zayn follows the guy into the living room, where ten or so guys are draped over assorted couches
and arm chairs, mostly oriented towards the game on screenfootball, Zayn thinks. It smells a bit
of beer and weed, and Zayn hesitates in the doorway.

Whos this? Its the big guy who asks, whod been playing beer pong with the blonde. It gets at
least the sharp-faced guys attention, who turns from the screen to Zayn.

Hey. He nods to Zayn, then yells, Haz! Pretty hipster boy is here!

Hes got a name, Tommo. Thats the ripped guy, whod been pretty chill Sunday.

Does Haz know it? asks another guy Zayn doesnt recognize, with sandy hair and a nose that
looks like its been broken once.

Shut up, McCarthy. The sharp-faced guy pitches a pillow at him, and he lets out an oof as it
hits, then throws it back. It goes wide, almost hits the big guy.

The TV goes to commercials, and the blonde turns to Zayn too. Now everyones looking at him,
which isnt his favorite position to be in, some place like here. Where is Harry? Part of the pros of
just hooking up with someone is supposed to be you dont have to deal with meeting their friends.
Want a beer? he asks, grinning.

Im good. Wheres Harry?

Zayn! Zayn turns around in time to see Harrys grin, thats more than a little smug. Sorry. You
took less time than I expected. Eager?

Were you getting yourself pretty for me? Zayn retorts. Harrys in jeans and a shirt thats open
down to his navel, and it should look weird and douchy but fuck if the glimpses of his chest arent
hot. Youre so sweet.

Thats our Harry, always sweet. The big guy rumbles, and it gets a snort out of one of the boys.

Harry flips them off, then turns the full force of that dimpling grin on Zayn, his gaze doing the
same survey the freshman had earlier, but with a heat to it that makes Zayn shiver. So. Here for a
reason?

Come on, Zayn rolls his eyes, and lets Harry lead him upstairs.

---

This time, significantly less drunk, he manages to leave after, with Harry sprawled out in bed
watching him get dressed with that hot, heavy gaze. Im glad you texted.

Zayn shrugs, pulling his sweater back on. Glad you were free.
Always free for you, baby, Harry grins, slow and lazy, and Zayn shoves his boots on with more
force than necessary.

Not your baby, he says, yet again. See you in class.

If you dont booty call me sooner.

If you dont booty call me sooner, Zayn corrects, because hes not going to break first this time,
and pulls his hair back quickly before he heads out. Maybe he got Harry out from under his skin
this time.

The games over, most of the guys gone to bed, but the sharp-faced guy wanders out of the
kitchen just as Zayn opens the door.

Have a good time? he asks, with a wicked smile.

Zayn doesnt see how its any of his business, so he just raises his eyebrows, gives him his most
skeptical look. Good enough, he retorts, and shuts the door on the guys chuckle.

---

It is Harry who breaks next. Its a point of pride for Zayn, even if he dreams about pink lips on his
cock and how Harrys muscles move when hes coming and how those arms would look holding
Zayn up as he fucked him. So Zayn goes to class, and works on his thesis, and goes to magazine
meetings and teases Claire about her girlfriends notoriety and teases Jawaad about the girl hes
still pining over. Shes cute, even Zayn can tell that, from the one time Jawaad pointed her out
across the quada pretty blonde girl named Maria, with a light laugh and a bright smile as she
talked with her friends.

Hes seen Harry in class, of course, and Harryd given him a flirty smirk that Zayn had ignored in
favor of doodling and actually listening to the TA, where Harryd made a joke instead of
answering the question posed to him. Because of course he hadnt read that poem.

But he didnt talk to Zayn then, or after class. Instead, he jogged out to meet ripped bro, and then
they got into some sort of punching play fight that blocked the stairwell for a good three minutes
before Zayn finally gave up on politeness and pushed by them, dodging the arm Harry seemed to
have no control of.

Sorry! Harry yelled, as Zayn stalked down the stairs. Zayn didnt bother to respond. He had a
shit ton of reading to do.

So its not until Wednesday night that the call comes in. Zayns busy playing MarioKart with
Jawaad, and hes winning too, but generally its only his mum who calls himeven his dad and
sisters textso he pauses the game to check the ID. And then, well. The games already paused.
And Harryd given in first.

Zayn! Harrys clearly yelling, and Zayn makes a face at the unbridled enthusiasm. Jawaad gives
him a teasing leer. Zayn flips him off. You should come over.

How drunk are you? Zayn asks, instead. Its a Wednesday. We have class in the morning. He
knows, because its the lecture they share. Though Harry hasnt been there, the times when
Zayns shown up.

Not too drunk, Harry laughs back. Zayns pretty sure hes lying. Not too drunk to get it up.
His voice goes low, just loud enough to be heard over shouting from behind him. Come on,
baby. Want you.
Im not your baby, Zayn snaps. Thats not making me want to come over more.

But you do want to, Harry says, all arrogance, and Zayn really hates that hes right. That Zayn
does want to go over. Come on, Zayn. Ive been thinking about this. Got me all worked up.

Yeah? Zayn cant help his smile. Serves him right. What have you been thinking about?

Come over and Ill show you. Harrys voice is a whisper, a promise. Ill get you loud enough
the boysll all know what were doing.

I think theyve got a pretty good idea, Zayn says, but, fuck it. Hes getting worked up from this,
from Harrys promise, from thinking about it. Jawaad is laughing at him, but fuck him too. Hes
not getting laid, hes just pining. And Zayn thinks youve lost the right to laugh at someone when
theyve pulled your ass out of the fire more times than you can count. But yeah. Ill be there.

Ill be waiting, Harry purrs, and hangs up.

Im out. This doesnt mean you win, Zayn warns Jawaad, getting up off the couch. Hes going
to a frat house and Harrys drunk already, he doesnt have to look good, but he still runs a hand
through his hair, makes sure there arent any stains on his shirt. Hes got standards.

Uh-huh, Jawaad snorts. You just go whenever he booty calls you, then?

Fuck off, Zayn warns.

Just saying, do you and the sorority girls have a club? Jawaad follows him into the bedroom,
where he grabs his wallet and keys, then toes on his boots. Paint each others nails?

Talk to me when youre getting some regularly, Zayn retorts. Dont wait up.

---

He dawdles on the way to Harrys. Its stupid, maybe, but he has some pride, and also he likes the
idea of Harry waiting. Of Harry, with his confident smirks and how he walks like he owns the
world and looks at Zayn like he owns him, waiting for Zayn, drunk and horny and desperate for
him.

But still, the house isnt far. Its lit up when Zayn gets therewhich makes sense, its barely
elevenbut more surprisingly, Zayn can see people moving on the roof. A roof which, while
mainly flat, has a fairly steep drop-off and is pretty clearly not meant for being on.

Hi! Comes a yell from up there, and Zayn looks up to see ripped bro waving, wildly enough its
clear hes drunk. Pretty hipster boy, hi! He turns around, to people crowded in the window. Its
Harrys pretty hipster boy!

Cant get enough of Harrys cock, can he? a voice comes from inside, and Zayn rolls his eyes.

I can see why he likes him though, youre almost as pretty as Soph, ripped bro goes on, peering
over the edge. I can see your eyelashes from here.

Thats great, mate. Zayns trying not to be nervous for the boy peering over the edge, because
hes drunk and if he fell hed probably break his neck, but hes not making it easy. Can I come
in?

Its open! Harrys waiting for you.

Zayn pulls open the doorthen he cant help it, he looks back up. Ripped bro was nice to him
before, even if Zayn doesnt appreciate being called as pretty as a girl. Get inside before you
fall, he snaps, and heads in.

He ignores the boys crowded around the window at the far end of the hall to knock on Harrys
door. Its yanked open in an instant. Zayn would be more amused if his mouth wasnt suddenly so
dry.

Hes just in basketball shorts, and hes all legs and skin and muscles and that crooked smile, like
he knows what Zayns thinking. Hes barefoot. Theres something about that that hits Zayn hard.

Took you long enough, Harry grins, with a hand on his wrist to pull him in.

Zayn takes a breath. Harrys hot. He knows this. Harry knows this. Its why hes here.

Whys there a guy on your roof? he asks, instead of climbing Harry, which is his first instinct.

What, Liam? Harry chuckles. Hes seeing if he can throw cans into Alpha Rhos attic. Hes got
the best arm. Of course its that.

Hes going to fall.

Hes fine. Harry takes a step forward, reaching around Zayn so he can shut the door behind
him. It brings him right up close to Zayn, his arms on either side of him, so hes pinned there.
Theres a brief, fleeting flash of panic, left over from too many years of being pushed against
lockers by white boys who were bigger than himbut Harry licks his lips, his eyes hot as he
looks down Zayns body, and the panics subsumed by the heat that shivers through Zayn. Now
why are we talking about Liam?

Because I dont want anyone to die while Im in the house? Zayn asks.

Youve always got something to say, dont you? Harry leans in, presses his thumb against
Zayns lip, like hes tracing it. Like he almost doesnt know what hes doing, in a way Zayns
always loved. So mouthy.

Yeah? Zayn smirks himself, because turnabouts fair play, and Harrys close enough he can feel
the weight of him, and Zayn came over here for a reason, and it has a lot to do with whats under
those shorts. Are you gonna shut me up?

Ill make you forgot what words are, Harry tells him, and closes the distance between them to
kiss him.

---

Harrys gone again when Zayn wakes up. Probably for some sort of morning run, Zayn guesses,
which sounds horrible but also like something he would do. And Zayn likes the results, so he
figures he cant really complain.

But hes not going to wait around for Harry either. Last night was good, as alwaysgreat even,
all four times of itbut hes got places to be, hes sure. And those places include somewhere
other than a frat house.

He makes his way downstairs. Theres noise in the kitchen, but he ignores it. He doesnt really
want to deal with a bunch of hungover bros right now.

But before he can make his escape, a head pokes out into the hallripped bro. Who is,
apparently, still alive, which is a vague relief.

He goes a bit red when he looks at Zayn, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. Oh, good.
Youre here.

Yeah. Zayn crosses his arms over his chest. Glad to see you didnt break your neck.

What? Ripped bros brow furrows, clearly in confusion, then he shrugs. No, Im fine. Im glad
I caught you. I wanted to apologize.

Apologize? Zayn didnt know that was in his vocabulary.

Yeah, like. I didnt mean anything by that shit last night, like, catcalling or whatever. Im justI
say stupid shit when Im drunk. Soph always yells at me for it.

Its more than Zayn expected, even if its not entirely an apology, but ripped bro is clearly trying,
so Zayn shrugs. s fine. You were busy throwing cans.

Yeah. Ripped bro grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Its an inviting smile, Zayn will give
him that.

We all good here? Sharp-faced bro comes out of the kitchen too, slings an arm around Zayns
shoulders. Zayn tenses, at the contact, but sharp-faced bro doesnt seem to notice. There doesnt
seem to be anything untoward in it, either. Apology accepted?

Yeah. Zayn doesnt know quite how to shrug him off, as hes being steered into the kitchen.
There is the smell of coffee there, which is good. s alright.

Good, blonde bro says, from near the fridge. Here, have coffee. Cant send Hazs fuckbuddy
wandering around uncaffeinated.

Thanks. Zayn takes the mug. He wonders how quickly he can drink it, to get him out of here.

Never say the boys of Delta Chi dont know hospitality, sharp-faced bro announces. He slides
onto a stool, and grabs a red bull off the counter. Zayns stomach turns just thinking of it.

And, like. Its the least I can do, ripped bro adds.

Its not your fault, Liam, sharp-faced bro puts in. He is pretty.

Is this a thing, then? Zayn asks, before he can stop himself. Is this part of the gangbang
initiation, or whatever, if you all think Im so pretty?

Ripped bro goes bright red, but blonde bro bursts into laughter, and sharp-faced bro gives him a
slow, sharp smile that Zayn thinks is approving. You wish.

What does Zayn wish? Harry asks. He slaps Zayns ass as he passes him on the way to the
fridge, then just laughs when Zayn glares at him. Zayn must have been right about the run,
because hes sweaty and his shirt is sticking to him, sweat making a dark v on his chest.

That he could get his hands on my ass, sharp-faced bro says, Sorry though. My ass is not
having anything up it, ever.

Your loss, Zayn retorts. He knows he should keep his mouth shut, because these guys seem
okay with Harry and him but who knowsthe pretty is still clearly coming with a like a girl
attachedbut hes not taking that. Prostates arent just for gay guys.
And my ass is better than yours anyway, Harry adds, winking at Zayn. Its over the top and
ridiculous and should not be charming. Zayn takes another sip of coffee, watching as Harry pulls
some green things out of the fridge.

Not as good as that chick Shawn got, at the Kappa party, blonde bro puts in. It was, fuck.

Probably what he did, sharp-faced bro quips, and they all laugh. Zayn rolls his eyes, and takes
another swig of his coffee. Classy.

Any more conversation is cut off by the whirr of the blender, as Harry mixes up something that
looks a horrible green color. Zayns not even hungover, and its disgusting looking.

What is that? he demands. Thats justno.

Its a kale smoothie! Well, it has kale, and avocado, and chia seeds, and some bananas because
bananas make everything better. Zayn gapes. He cant help it. That sounds revolting. Its really
good for you, do you want some?

Not in a million years.

Told you! Sharp faced bro stabs a finger at Harry. Told you it was disgusting. Hes taking your
dick and he agrees.

Its healthy, though, ripped bro puts in, a hand on sharp-faced bros shoulder like hes trying to
calm him down. You should try it, youll feel better.

As Zayn said, not in a million years. Nialler, you with me?

Blonde bro toasts with his mug. Smoothies arent a meal, bro. They just arent.

Theyre healthy!

You cant drink a meal, Zayn argues. Its not a real meal. Wheres the satisfaction in it?

If you cant chew, its no good. And kale. Kale is bullshit. Sharp-faced bro agrees.

Kale is advertising convincing you something that tastes like shit is good for you so you eat it.
Zayn nods at sharp-faced bro. Maybe hes not all bad.

Also, it tastes gross, and doesnt fix hangovers, blonde bro agrees.

Harry just shakes his head, and sips his smoothie. When you all die of heart failure and Payno
and me are still alive, then well see whos laughing.

Us, because well have enjoyed life, blonde bro says. I

The door opens, and another boy comes in, a hulking brunette who could definitely be on the
football team, probably come from a class already, if his backpack has anything to say about it. He
sees all five of them looking at him, and raises his hands. What?

Kale, yes or no? sharp-faced bro demands, and ripped bro sighs, as Harry laughs and settles
against the counter next to Zayns stool, so their thighs are pushed together. He should smell
awful, and he does, but theres something enticing about it, masculine and solid and primal. Zayn
takes another sip of coffee.

In what setting? the new bro asks, setting his backpack down. Is this about Harrys smoothies
again?

Theyre gross!

Theyre not! Harry insists. Hes leaning against the counter now, his hips cocked, and Zayn can
actually see his cock through his shorts. Theyre healthy!

They really are. Thats worth some gross, ripped bro says, nodding.

Do you have to get changed? Zayn mutters, to Harry. Harry stops paying attention to whatever
sharp-faced bro says to look down at Zayn, his lips quirked.

Yeah, and shower. Why?

Need help?

It takes a second, but then it clicks, and Harry grins, both dimples appearing. Could do, yeah.

Good. Zayn stands up, sets the mug down, and Harry takes a last gulp of his smoothie.

You keep arguing, Harry tells sharp-faced bro, his hand closing around Zayns wrist. Ive got
better things to do.

Better people, more! blonde bro laughs, and sharp-faced bro wolf whistles as they head upstairs.

---

Are you doing work? Harry demands. Zayn looks up from Harrys bed to where Harrys
hovering in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb. His face is a study in confused skepticism,
as he looks at the computer open on Zayns lap. Zayn would think hed know better, after a few
weeks of fucking.

No, Zayn replies, and keeps typing. He doesnt know why Marta thinks hes qualified to give
an opinion on her latest project, but hes going to try his best, at least. And he needs to finish his
thought. And you were the one who needed to finish watching the match, or whatever.

Game, Harry corrects, and crosses the room. Zayn might be typing, but he can still see Harrys
saunter, as he closes the distance between them, until hes right in front of Zayn. It was football,
so a game.

Whatever. I still needed something to do. And I need to finish this, wait.

Youre on my bed. I dont have to wait. Harry leans over, so he can look at Zayns screen.
What is that shit, anyway?

Of course. That shit is my friends art.

Thats art? Harrys skepticism is clear, and he stops trying to crane over Zayn to drop onto the
bed next to him.

Yes.

Harry raises his eyebrows. Uh-huh.

It is! Zayn insists. He turns the screen so Harry can see it, can see the golden words tapering off
into swirls and hieroglyphs and barely comprehensible images. Its the failure of language, and
canon
And Ozymandias? Harry asks. His hands on Zayns thigh, moving up, and its pretty clear he
has no interest whatsoever in the conversation, but Zayn still gapes at him. Whoever that is?

For I am Ozymandias, king of kings? Zayn echoes the quote. Come on, didnt you read that in
high school?

Harry shrugs. If we were supposed to, I didnt.

Its Shelley. You know, look upon my works ye mighty, and despair? He shakes his head,
when Harrys look is still blank, other than the hand starting to make very distracting circles on his
inner thigh. Everyone knows that one.

I had better things to do in high school. Zayn scoffs. He cant actually be that illiterate. But
Harry just smirks, and reaches over to shut the laptop. Zayn only just manages to get his fingers
out in time. Like getting laid.

Uh-huh, Zayn snorts. So much more important.

Much more important than looking at weird-ass art and reading poems by a bunch of dead guys
about more dead guys, Harry retorts. He pushes the laptop aside, then stops with any pretense of
subtly to cup Zayns dick through his jeans. Zayn really, really hates that its working for him.

Is that all you think I did in high school? he asks, and slides his hands over Harrys shoulders,
pulling so that Harry will get with the program and properly straddle him.

Did nerds do anything else? Harry replies, and then his lips are on Zayns, kissing hard, so Zayn
falls back rather than bothers trying to keep them upright. Harry catches himself before he falls on
Zayn, bracing himself over Zayn so all Zayn can see are those stupid lips and his stupid arms.
What, like, you, I dunno, studied too, right?

Got pushed into lockers too.

Of course. Harry kisses him again, his hips grinding into Zayns. But you havent said you
were getting laid.

Because I had better things to do, Zayn replies, and Harry chuckles, deep in his chest, as he
slides down Zayns body, until hes got his jeans open.

Better? Like what? he asks, and then his mouths on Zayn and Zayn groans and grabs at the
blankets, because Harrys mouth is obscene and maybe it was all that getting laid in high school,
but he really fucking knows what hes doing.

Still, Zayns never let an argument go, and he manages to gather his thoughts even as Harry seems
intent on sucking them out through his dick. Likereading, and learning about the world, and
actually thinking aboutfuck, he moans, and Harry pulls off with a smug grin.

What was that?

Youre such an asshole, Zayn tells him, because he really fucking is, and hes also wearing too
many clothes. Take your shirt off.

What? Maybe I was too busy getting laid and working out to understand what those words
meant.

Zayn shouldnt be able to roll his eyes when hes this turned on, but he does, somehow. Maybe I
was too busy being a nerd to suck your dick.

Harrys grin turns wicked then, and hes back over Zayn, and Zayns shirt is somehow gone but
hes a bit distracted by how Harrys lips are trailing over his skin.

Oh, you wouldnt have been, he murmurs, and nips at Zayns ear, his hips still grinding lazily.
Id have shown you a good time, baby. Opened your eyes to plenty of new worlds.

Not your baby, Zayn corrects, and finally pulls off Harrys shirt so he can feel the skin of his
back, how his muscles move beneath Zayns hand, when Zayns hands run down to his ass. And
I didnt need your worlds.

No, youre sure you didnt, arent you? Harrys mouth is on his stomach now, and hes pushing
at Zayns jeans as Zayn helps him slide them off. So fucking sure you dont.

Your dicks not that magical.

No? Harrys cocks his head almost innocently, pausing as hes easing Zayns legs open. Then
you dont want it?

God fucking damn it. Shut up, Zayn mutters, and Harry laughs, and gets down to business.

Its so much better when hes not talking, when Zayn doesnt have to think, about who he is or
what hes doing. When he can just concentrate on how Harry feels, his mouth around his cock
and his fingers stretching Zayn open, until Zayns hands are clenching in the blankets and
grinding back on his fingers so Harry will finally just hit his prostate, and then Zayns back arches
as he groans.

Come on, Harry, please, hes babbling, and he doesnt even care hes begging, he just wants
more, now. Hurry up.

Youre so much prettier when youre begging then when youre arguing, Harry replies with a
smile thats leaning towards a leer, but he fumbles a little as he discards his pants, rolls on a
condom. Want to try hands and knees, this time?

Zayn wants to try anything thatll get Harry to actually fuck him, thank you very much, so he
doesnt protest, rolls over and grins into the mattress at Harrys low oath. Then Harrys cocks
pushing in, and Harrys hands are on his hips, big enough to almost wrap around them, and
Zayns smile dies as he holds back what he really hopes wasnt a whine.

Im good, he tells Harry though, when he pauses. Im good, just fuckingmove.

Thought my dick wasnt that magical, Harry retorts, but he does start to move, hard and fast,
and Zayn gets a hand on his own dick, because he cant not. You dont need this, right? Youve
got your books.

Shut up, Zayn repeats, Justfuck, please, please, he devolves into, because Harrys dicks
hitting his prostate and everythings burning and his legs are shaking. Please, come on, Harry,
fuck.

God, Zayn, youre so Harrys moving faster, harder, and his voice is hoarse like hes as lost
as Zayn is. Sofucking He comes on a groan that might be Zayns name, falling forward
over Zayn to mouth as his neck as he keeps thrusting into Zayn, riding out the last of it.

Zayn keeps jerking himself off, chasing frantically after it, when Harry knocks his hand away,
wraps his own hand around Zayns dick. His hands big and a bit rough and it thumbs over the
head just right and hesso

Go on, Zayn, Harry murmurs, his voice low and dark, then hes kissing Zayn and he twists his
hand and the orgasm crashes over him, any sounds he wants to make swallowed by Harrys
mouth and he keeps moving his hand, eking out the pleasure.

Harrys the one who moves first, pulling out of Zayn to go throw away the condom and wipe his
hand on something in the laundry pile. He brings back whatever it isa washcloth, thank god
and tosses it at Zayn, who cleans himself off, rolling over as Harry lies back on the bed next to
him. Hes just so hot, with bits of sweat on his skin, his hair messy, his lips swollen. Its really not
okay.

Harry smirks lazily, as he catches Zayn watching, but it turns into a yawn, and he slides down on
the bed. You gonna stay for a nap?

I dont know, do you let nerds nap in your bed?

The ones who look like you. Harry retorts without heat, and runs a hand back through his hair.
I dont fuck with the not hot ones.

Im so honored.

You should be. Harry reaches out, wraps his hand around the back of Zayns head, and brings
him close for a kiss. Hes a good enough kisser Zayn forgets to protest the words.

---

And so it goes. Zayn spends more time at the frat house than hed ever expected, but given that
its for great sex, he doesnt find he minds, that much. Even if Jawaad still makes fun of him
whenever he goes, and that Claire and Marta saw him one time when hed been coming from
Greek row and pestered him until he told them who he was hooking up with and then gave him
judgy looks. They dont know how lucky they are to have each other, and Jawaads still inching
slowly into Marias good graces. They dont have any room to judge.

And its not all bad, Zayn finds. Most of his time is, admittedly, spent in Harrys bedor against
his wall, or in the showerbut he cant spend all his time there. Theres also the times when hes
supposed to meet Harry at the house and he beats him there, or when Harrys passed out and he
needs to leave but is caught by the boys, when Zayns somehow conned into a game of Call of
Duty with them, or one of the many arguments about nothing that they seem to get into all the
time. And yeah, theyre not exactly who Zayn usually hangs out withZayns fairly sure they
legitimately did not know comedic was a word, and that sort of thing happens enough that he
occasionally doubts their literacybut its not all bad. Theyre chill, and theyre often drunk but
often funny with it, and Zayn never thought hed be so comfortable in a frat house, but he is.

Also, the sex. The sex is a big plus.

---

Shit.

Yeah. Harry smirks when Zayn stretches. He feels like he could purr, honestly, so hell let
Harry smirk. He deserves it. Its pretty impressive, that even after a month of fucking, its still so
good. Not a one trick pony, Harry Styles. See? Wasnt it worth a nooner?

Is it still a nooner if I only just left my apartment? Zayn retorts. He hadnt been expecting Harry
to text him so earlyby which he meant elevenbut he wasnt going to say no to a nice way to
wake up. Nothing to get you through a two hour seminar with the driest professor on the faculty
like having had great sex.

Its noon, its a nooner. Harry reaches over Zayn to grab his phone, to show that is in face
12:08. Nooner.

You just want to brag you had a nooner, Zayn accuses, and Harry shrugs.

Who can blame me? Youre pretty. I like to brag about you.

Zayns eyebrows go up. You better not be kissing and telling. If I show up on some sort of
rankings board

Harrys nose wrinkles at that. What, rankings? Like, of whos hottest?

I dunno, of the people you guys hook up with.

First of all, thats gross, we dont do that. Harry sets his phone back down, then rolls, so hes
sitting over Zayns thighs, grinning down at him as he traces the lips on his chest. Second, youd
definitely win.

Id better, Zayn agrees. Harrys tracing over the wings now, down the gun on his side. Fuck,
Harry, no. Ive got to get to class.

Youve got forty-five minutes. Thats enough time. Harry murmurs, his voice going low and
hot, as he leans down to press a kiss to Zayns neck.

Zayns head tilts back, but he puts his hands on Harrys shoulders. Definitely to push him away.
Ive got to get home and shower first.

You can shower here. Now Harrys kissing at the other side of his neck, just enough bite to
make Zayn melt, like Harryd figured out very early on. We can shower together.

I have to get a book from the library, I have tofuck, he swears, as Harry reaches down to
stroke his cock. No, I actually have to go to class.

Fine, Harry huffs. Zayn cant quite help his pout when Harry moves away from him. He needs
to get to class, but Harry always feels good over him. What book do you need?

Its, um. Something like the Creative Paranoia in Gravitys Rainbow? Its by Mark Siegal.
Zayn pushes himself up on his elbow as he watches Harry grab a piece of paper, apparently
writing it down. What the fuck, Harry?

You need the book. I can get it for you. Whos the author?

Zayn tells him, watching as Harry opens the door, apparently not caring hes naked. Zayn cant
say he cares much either. But is Harry expecting to go get his book naked? Its flattering, but
unnecessary. Also, he thinks the library might have something to say about it, not that hes sure
Harrys ever set foot in a library.

Hey, Michael! Harry calls, though. Through the door, Zayn can see a kid hes seen around the
house recentlya freshman, he thinkscome thumping up the stairs. He shakes out his blonde
hair, grins excitedly at Harry.

Yeah?
Do you have time to go get a book from the library for Zayn? Zayns eyes narrow. Whats he
doing?

Yeah, of course! Michael bounces on his feet. What book? Do I need to bring it back here, or
should I bring it to his class, or what?

Bring it back here. He doesnt have anywhere to be. Harry throws a smile over his shoulder at
Zayn that cant be classified as anything but hungry. Thanks, Michael.

No problem, sir! Harry. Sorry. Michael laughs nervously.

If you could get back here in half an hour, thatd be great. Just leave it outside the door if it
sounds like were busy. Zayn cant see Harrys face, but he thinks he can tell hes smiling.
Michael gives a knowing grin, that quickly sews itself back up into respect.

Yeah, course. Ill head out now.

Thanks, bro. Harry shuts the door again as Michael runs off, turns back to Zayn. There. Now
you dont have to go anywhere.

What, so youre just ordering him around? Zayn asks. Harry looks really good naked like that,
but still. He hadnt meant for Harry to do that. To make the kid do that.

Harry shrugs. Hes a pledge, its what hes here for. Hes pacing back towards the bed, his hand
circling Zayns ankle, drawing a line up his thigh.

Slave labor? Zayn retorts. He doesnt approve of this. He doesnt. Even if it gets him another
round.

Nah, like. Its just hazing. Harry, apparently sensing they arent starting right away, sits down
on the bed instead of on Zayn.

Oh, just hazing. Zayn snorts. And youre cool with that? Sometimes, its easy to forget what
Harry is, when theyre in bed together and Harry runs a hand through Zayns hair to untangle it,
almost tender, or when he makes a stupid joke and Zayn has to hit him as the only response.

Its nothing bad. Were not making them do anything harmful, or even that annoying. Harry
shrugs again. And its, you know. Bonding. Bonds the pledge class together especially. Some of
the older brothers made us wash their cars, and like, me and Lou and Liam and Niall got into a
massive water fight and thats why the four of us are so close, among the brothers. Thats the
whole point of it all. Makes us brothers, for real.

So thats what this is? Making Michael get my book is bonding him with what, the library? It
almost makes sense, the way Harry puts it. But still. Its notit is just using the freshmen for
labor, or whatever, and its notright. Or something.

No. This is me using all the resources at hand so I can come again before class, Harry says,
chuckling predatorily, and moves so hes on top of Zayn again, smirking down at him, his hair
falling around his face. He looks stupidly arrogant and stupidly hot, and it might not be right but it
doesnt seem harmful and also Zayn really wants his stupidly big hands on him again, so he grabs
his hair and pulls him down to kiss him.

---

He makes sure to thank Michael when Michael knocks tentatively on the door, half an hour later.
Harrys still in the shower, because Louisd yelled at them when hed seen them both heading
towards the shower that house rules was no sex in places they all had to use, so Zayn had
showered first and now he was doing his hair. He pulls on his jeans, because hes not as
shameless as Harry, and pulls open the door.

Oh, hey! I was just gonna put it here. Michael holds the book out. It is indeed the right book,
Zayn thinks, and takes it. His cheeks are flushed red, but he doesnt look any worse for wear. And
this is a lot easier than going to get the book himself.

Thanks. Zayn looks at the book, then at Michael.

What Im here for. Michael gives a cheerful salute, and turns to run down the stairs. He pauses
on the landing, turns back. Just, um. Could you make sure to let Harry know I did it? And to
return the book on time? Its under my name, so I dont want any late fees

Oh, freshmen. Yeah, course, Zayn nods, and Michael gives another grin before he runs
downstairs.

This is a nice sight to come back to, Harry says, coming down the hall the other way. He just
has a towel around his waist, and waters dripping from his hair down his hard chest and over his
abs and down the line of his hipbones. Zayn swallows. Speaking of nice sights. Are you standing
out here to show all the other brothers what theyre missing?

You know me, always trying to tempt people to the gay side. Zayn nods, following Harry back
inside. Just trying to prove any homophobia hypocritical.

Harry pauses, looks up with a wrinkle between his eyebrows. None of the guys have given you a
hard time, have they?

It makes Zayn smile despite himself. No. No hard times. Sometimes, he doesnt think they listen
to what they say, calling each other fags or making jokes about Zayn as a girl, but its better than
what he expected.

Good. Harrys shameless as he drops his towel, rummaging for boxers. Its a very nice show,
and Zayn doesnt pretend he isnt looking while he pulls his tank top on. Michael get you your
book?

Very promptly. Give him a credit, or whatever he gets. Harrys found his boxers, and Zayn
pulls on his flannel overshirt. His hairs still messy, but thats all he can do without the products he
likes. Seems like a good kid.

Its a good crop of pledges, yeah. Harry tugs on sweatpants, and now the show really is over, so
Zayn reaches down to stick the book in his backpack. He glances at his phone, while hes at it;
theres a text from Jawaad, asking him if hes coming home tonight and if so, if he can look at an
outfit to see if its good to go on a study maybe-a-date with Maria, and another from Claire asking
if he wants to go to the poetry reading tonight. He responds to both of them in the affirmative, then
checks to make sure he really does have everything for class then a meeting with his advisor about
his thesis.

Harrys hands on his hips distract him from his mental count of books he needs to impress his
advisor. Zayn loves Harrys hands, hes decided, almost as much as his arms. Why do you have
to go to class? he pouts. When Zayn straightens up, turns so he can look at Harry, his lower lip is
jutting out. Cant you just skip like normal people?

Zayn laughs and rolls his eyes, then tugs on one of Harrys curls. Not all of us can be rich white
boys.
Harrys mouth opens, then closes, and his eyes narrow. What do you mean?

Its not worth it, to get into it now, when Zayn really does need to leave to get to class. s just a
fact. Im busy tonight, he warns, stepping away from Harry. So dont bother booty calling me
when youre drunk.

What about sexting? Harry asks, letting it go, and Zayn just snorts and leaves him in his room as
he heads to class.

---

Zayn is drunk. Really drunk, properly drunk, despite only being two drinks in. He has been
feeling a little off all week, so maybe drinking wasnt the best idea, but that was probably just him
marathoning to get all his work done and hed just turned in an outline of his thesis and he
deserved to get drunk with his friends.

No, youreno, he insists, and he knows he might be slurring a bit but he has to tell everyone
this. Kants just some rules obsessed weirdo, he didnt know fuck all about the world. You cant
just, hes not the be all and end all.

But you cant deny that hes the basis for all western philosophy since then! Claire insists,
waving her wine glass. Marta, half in her lap and half in the booth, laughs up at her. Hegel
worked off of him, then everyone works off of Hegel.

So look at non-western philosophy! Zayn takes a last sip of his wine, before setting it down so
he can use his hands properly to express his point. Youve got plenty of that, we arent as
obsessed with making rules. Fucking categorical imperatives. You cant use that, really.

So what do you want to use? Aristotle?

I think we should use another round, Jawaad interrupts. Hes been staring morosely into his
whiskey soda all night, probably still depressed because he saw Maria with some overly muscled
guy earlier, and he thinks its a date. He needs to cheer up, Zayn thinks, and tips himself over into
his cousins lap.

You shouldnt pine, he tells Jawaad, seriously. Jawaad shouldnt be sad. Its his job to make
sure he isnt. Youre worth twelve of whoever else shes seeing. And if shes worth anything,
shell know that.

Jawaad rolls his eyes. Youre so sappy drunk.

Hes right, though, Marta agrees, stabbing her finger at Jawaad. Youre a catch, babe.

And you dont like men, so what do you know? he retorts, then runs a hand through his hair.
Sorry, I justI thought she liked me.

Well, I do like men, and I know youre a catch, Zayn informs him. Its shit, is what it is, that no
one recognizes how cool Jawaad is.

Youre my cousin, you have to think that. I can hear Auntie Trisha coming out of your mouth.

Doesnt make it less true. Zayn manages to right himself, so he can look somewhere straight
into Jawaads eyes. Jawaad needs to get this. He has to make his cousin understand. Youll find
someone you dont have to pine over someday.

What, like your frat bro? Jawaad retorts, Thats what you call a solution?
Hey. Zayn draws back. That was uncalled for. Hes not that bad.

Yeah, well. Dont say things like you know what its like to be in love while youre just fucking
around, Jawaad snaps. Hes so fucking moody when hes drunk.

Ive been in love, Zayn mutters. He has been. Hes just not this time. Hes fucking someone
without feelings involved, and thats okay, thats college, thats a way for both of them to get laid
and he doesnt need more. Well, he doesnt dislike Harry, really, and hes not as much of an
asshole as Zayn had thought, and maybe in a weird way theyre friends, even though hes sort of
symbolic of everything Zayn hates about the world, but hes not in love. Theyre just fucking.
And its so good

Youve never had to work for it, though, Jawaads hand waves. Youre justpeople look at
your face and theyre in love. You dont know what its like for it to be unrequited.

Zayn blinks. The fuck? Youre straight, he says, becausedoes Jawaad not realize how much
easier that makes everything? Does he not realize how much easier hes had everything? Dont
come fucking complaining to me about how its hard to be you.

No, hes got a point, youre gorgeous, though, Marta inserts, her voice calming. I dont like
guys and Im attracted to you.

That doesnt mean anything. Jawaads good looking too.

Well, Plato says

Foul! they all cry, and Claire rolls her eyes. I was just gonna say, your soulmate

No, thats a foul, Jawaad announces, and Marta shoves at her shoulder. First to mention Plato
has to get the next round, go on.

Were talking about soulmates, how am I not supposed to? Claire complains, but she scoots out
of the booth anyway.

Ill go with you. Marta slides out after her, wraps an arm around Claires waist thats probably
half holding herself up, and half an excuse to squeeze Claires ass in her tight jeans. I need to
show you off a little.

Maybe I want to show you off, Claire grins down at Marta. Zayn makes a gagging sound that
has Marta giggling before he starts coughing as they walk away.

You okay? Jawaad asks. Zayn shakes his head, and tries to finish his wine before he realizes
theres nothing left in it.

Yeah, fine. Just a cough. He pauses, then. Sorry. But, for real. If she wants some meathead
more than you, she deserves him.

Yeah, yeah. Jawaad gives his empty glass another moody look, and Zayn gives up. If he wants
to sulk, he can. Zayns drunk and happy and hes feeling good about the world, about everything.
Hes feeling plenty good, but he could be feeling better, so he pulls out his phone, sends a text.

Hes almost forgot about it by the time the girls get back, with drinks in hand, and he and Marta
start arguing over whether hieroglyphics are art or writing. Theyre halfway through their drink by
the time Zayns pocket buzzes and he pulls it out.

Chilling at the house Harrys replied to his what are you doing? It is a Thursday night, after all.
Not a big party night, Zayn supposes, if you havent just turned something in that will help
determine your future. You should come by ;)

Ive got to go, Zayn tells them, and slides his phone back into his pocket.

Booty call? Marta asks, toasting him. To free love!

No love involved, Zayn retorts, getting up. We said that.

Did you want to hook up tonight? Because you could here, Claire points out, gesturing around.
Those are your hooking up jeans. I figured you were waiting for one of them. She gestures
around, to the various guys around.

Shes not lying. They are his hooking up jeans, the black ones with rips all the way to his thighs.
And he had sort of considered finding someone herethe Black Dragon isnt a gay bar per se, but
its not gay unfriendly, and this close to campus theres plenty of guys aroundbut this is easier.
No flirting, no pretense. Just hooking up.

Yeah, but this only takes a text, he points out. Ill see you all later.

I wont wait up, Jawaad informs him, and Zayn sticks out his tongue.

The house is all lit up when he gets there. Ashton, another of the pledges, lets him in, and he
doesnt even give Zayn a look when he does. Hey! he grins. All of the pledges are almost
unnaturally cheerful. Zayn doesnt trust it. Harrys out on a beer run, actually. Hell be back in
ten minutes.

Of course he is, Zayn mutters, but he goes in, wanders towards the living room, where plenty of
noise is.

Apparently chilling means the house is full. Its not party full, but Zayn spots all the brothers he
knows, and there are shot glasses and a bottle of tequila on the table, and bass is pounding, and
most of the people are gathered around a table playing poker as Zayn comes in.

Zayn! My favorite! Niall yells as Zayn comes in. Come be my lucky charm, Liams got
Sophia, its not fair.

Sophia nods from Liams lap. Zayns seen Liams girlfriend around a few times, and shes not
bad. A sorority girl, but at least without her sisters her voice never takes on that pitch that makes
him shudder. She seems classy, at least.

Need me to blow on the deck? Zayn asks, wandering over.

Hes lying. Luck of the Irish, that one has, Louis retorts. Hes owning all of us. Cleaning me
out.

Youve just never learned to bluff, Niall retorts. Okay, whose deal?

Mine. Liam takes the deck, holds it up to Sophia, who blows on the cards, before Liam starts to
deal.

Zayn perches on the couch to watch them. He wishes he had that much money to burn, that he
could be betting twenties. Still, he leans over Nialls hand, looks at it. Hes always had a decent
poker face.

Niall bets lower than Zayn would, conservative for the queen in his hand, and it keeps going until
Liam starts hemming and hawing over his last bet. Zayn has another beer in hand now, handed it
by one of the pledges when he got Niall and Louis some more. He hopes Harry will come back
soon. This is fun and all, and the banters amusing enough in a plebian sort of way, but hed much
rather be getting his cock sucked.

Stop being so gay, just bet already! Louis snaps, as Liam hesitates again.

Zayn makes a noise, half a snortof courseand half a protest. Louis glances at him. What?

Just, Idve bet already, Zayn says, meeting Louiss eyes. Maybe itll get him beat up, but hes a
little too drunk to care. Dont go calling not betting gay.

I didnt mean anything, Louis mutters. He just needs to bet.

Yeah, well. White boys are all indecisive. So dont hold your breath. Zayn pushes himself off
the couch. Fuck, hes too drunk for this. Wheres Harry?

We arent! Liam protests, and pushes a few chips into the center.

Zayn just rolls his eyes. That wasnt even remotely the point.

Then what

Are you terrorizing the boys again? Harry asks, coming in to throw an arm around Zayns
waist, pull him back into him. You need to stop doing that when Im not around to save them.

And how are you planning to save them? Zayn asks, but Harrys body is nice and warm and
distracting, and hes too drunk to properly care.

Distract you, Harry retorts. He sets down the six-pack he was holding, turns Zayn around. He
could pout, Zayn supposes, could be annoyed at the boys, but he didnt expect better. Give you
something else to do with your mouth.

Thats a tired line, Zayn tells him. Harry grins, dimple deep in his cheeks, and pushes at his hair
so his hat fall back a little.

Did it work?

Yes, please, take him away, Louis snaps, Apparently we cant trash talk anymore.

Calling someone gay isnt trash talking, Zayn says. He tries to turn around again, but Harry
doesnt let him, sliding his hands from his hips down to his ass. Its not, he repeats.

No, its not, Harry agrees quietly, glancing over his shoulder. But then he leans in, and his voice
is warm on Zayns cheek as he nips at his ear. But you could argue with them, or we could be
fucking.

Its a good point. Okay then, Zayn agrees. Whatever. Frat bros will be frat bros, and its not his
job to educate them. Better make it worth my while then.

Get a room! Someone shouts, and Zayns hit in the back with a pillow.

We plan to, Harry retorts, and Zayn throws the pillow back at the couch, where he suspects it
came from, before heading upstairs.

---
Zayns cold. So cold, which is weird because he normally runs pretty hot, but hes so cold and his
head is pounding, even though he didnt drink enough to get him a hangover. He pulls at the
blankets, trying to get more.

Zayn? Theres a tap on his shoulder, and Zayn groans and curls into himself. His head aches.
His whole body aches, and not in the fun way, and hes cold. You okay?

Zayn cant even think of the words. He grabs the blankets again and pulls them up, hoping to get
more warmth that way. He just wants to go back to sleep.

The hand on his forehead feels cool, even though Zayns shivering, but somehow its nice, gentle
in the touch. Shit, youre burning up. The bed creaks, and Harry must be getting out. Harry.
Right. Zayn fell asleep at the frat last night, he needed

I can go, he mutters, and uncurls himself with another groan that might be more of a whimper.
He doesnt want to open his eyes.

Dont be stupid. The hands not on his forehead anymore, smoothing over his hair instead, so
gentle that Zayn could almost imagine its his mums, back home when he was sick. Go back to
sleep.

Zayn should protest, he knows, but hes tired and maybe just keeping his eyes closed will make
the headache go away.

---

The next time he wakes up, his heads marginally clearer, but hes still freezing, and his whole
body hurts. Shit. He hasnt been sick in ages, but he hates the feeling. Of his brain not working, of
his body not working. Of feeling so helpless.

Hey. Harrys hand is on his shoulder, as Zayn tries to sit up. He doesnt know what time it is,
but Harrys dressed, more or less, in the gym shorts and t-shirt he wears around the house, his hair
caught behind his baseball cap, and his eyes are big and worried as he pushes Zayn back onto the
bed. Dont sit up. Here, have some water.

Zayn takes the glass, sips. The waters cool and smooth in his throat, soothing. Thanks, he
croaks, and looks around. Hes still in Harrys room, and the curtains are drawn but the sunlights
peeking through around them, and the clock on the dresser says its eleven. Fuck, he has class

Ive got to

No, Harry says firmly, taking the glass back and putting it on the bedside table. You dont
need to go to class. Take some Advil, here.

Zayns brain is too fuzzy not to take the pills Harry puts in his hand, swallow them down. But he
knows this is not fuck buddy etiquette, that Harry didnt sign on to this, and that hes still so cold
especially the parts of him not under the blankets, and he just wants to sleep until all this goes
away.

Good. Thatll be better in a bit. Harry sits down on the bed next to Zayn. He should be kicking
Zayn out, maybe making him wash these sheets, because who the fuck gets sick in their fuck
buddys bed?

The walk home sounds like the worst thing in the world, especially compared with the warmth of
the bed that still isnt quite enough, even with the extra blanket that appeared there, but Zayn
knows what he has to do. And its better, he hasa paper, he thinks. Work. Magazine? He knows
theres something. Somehow, he forces himself to sit up. Ill get out of your hair, sorry.

Dont be stupid. For a third time, Harry pushes him gently back down onto the bed. Youre
staying here, youre too sick to walk home.

But I need

Well get what you need, Harry informs him. His hands on Zayns temple now, rubbing at
them in a way that has Zayn melting back into the bed in relief. Tell me what you want, and Ill
have someone get it. But youre staying here.

Zayn should argue, he knows. He can take care of himself, always has, and he shouldnt be here.
But the beds warmer than outside, and he aches, and Harrys hand feels good against his skin.
Just, clothes? And my computer. And, I need to read for my Dostoyevsky class, The Brothers
Karamazov should besomewhere. Jawaad knows.

Okay. Keys in your jeans, right? Well get it. Harry gets up, and the noise Zayn makes isnt a
whine. Or if it is, its because hes sick. Harry lets him pretend he doesnt notice, digging in his
dresser. Zayns too miserable to even think about his ass, which is saying something. Here, for
now, you can wear these. He throws something on the bedsweatpants and Delta Chi
sweatshirt, Zayn sees. He doesnt even care, they look warm, and he drags himself out of bed to
pull them on over his boxers. They are warmtoo big, so the sweatshirt hits his knuckles and he
has to tie the drawstring on the pants as tight as they can gobut warm, and they smell a bit like
Harry, which shouldnt be as comforting as it is.

Harrys giving him an odd look, his head tilted as Zayn pauses in the act of climbing back into
bed. What? Zayn demands, trying for sharp. Hes too stuffy for it though, so it just ends up
croaky.

Harry shakes his head, running a hand through his hair as he looks away. The uncertainty is weird
on him, but Zayns more concerned with the bed right now. Nothing. Go back to sleep. Ill send
Ashton off for your computer.

Tell him not to mess it up or touch anything, Zayn orders, And that you get the key back, and
Harry laughs, and leans over to smooth his hair out of his face again.

Okay, Zayn. Dont worry about it.

Im not worried, Im instructing.

Okay, baby.

Not your baby, Zayn mutters, but its hard to be angry when his heads a mess and with the
blankets and Harrys clothes hes finally warm.

No, you arent, Harry agrees, for once without his smirk. Go to sleep.

Zayns never needed telling twice with that.

---

When he wakes up again, Harrys sitting at a desk, his computer open and what looks like a word
document on the computer. Zayns feeling a bit betterthe Advil must have kicked in, so hes not
shivering so much, and his heads clearerbut he still feels like the lowest circle of hell. How
long has Harry let him sleep here?
Hey, he rasps, pushing himself up on one arm. Harry turns around in his chair, and grins, all his
dimples showing.

Hey! he hits a key on the computer, probably saving it. Feeling better?

A bit. Zayn pushes his hair back, scrubbing his hand over his face. He just feels gross. Now
Harry will never want to have sex with him again, clearly. What are you working on?

Thesis. Harry gives the computer a shrug, then gets up to walk over to the bed. His hands still
so cool on Zayns forehead, and he cant help but sigh into it. God, he loves Harrys hands.
Youre still warm, I think. Tommos mom is a nurse, she said you probably just have a twenty-
four hour fever, its been going around.

Zayn blinks. Thats a lot. You asked Louiss mom?

Of course. Harrys hand lingers on Zayns skin, or maybe Zayns imagining it. Whichever it is,
it feels nice. Your computer and book are here. He pats the bedside table, where indeed, Zayns
computer is there. Ill be right back.

His hand slips away, and then he does, the door closing behind him.

Zayn groans. He opens his computer, to check his email, see how much class he missed and how
much hes going to have to make up, but just looking at the backlight hurts his eyes, and he sets it
aside. Instead, he puts on his glasses and picks up his Dostoyevsky. That hurts his head too, but it
always does.

Harry comes back in a moment later, after Zayns managed maybe a page, carrying a bowl of
soup. Zayns not sure hes ever seen a kind of food that didnt come out of a drug store bag or a
microwave here, but it definitely looks like soup, and it smells like it too, as Harry comes closer to
sit on the edge of the bed again.

Jaythat Louiss momsaid we should keep giving you fluids, and soup is always good. He
sets it on the bedside table. You should have some.

Zayn gives it a skeptical look. It smells good, warm, but Whered you get it?

Harry shrugs. I made it. When Zayn blinks at him again, he gives a little smile, almost sheepish.
What, I can cook sometimes.

Uh-huh. The first spoonful Zayn takes hes wary about, but it tastes as good as it smells and
looks. This is good.

I do have some skills, Harry agrees, a shade away from smug. Did we get everything you
need? Yourcousin, right? He threw in some extra things he said youd forget.

Yeah. That explains the glasses, then. Thanks.

No problem. I made the pledges do it. Harry reaches out, pushes at the glasses on Zayns nose.
I didnt know you wore glasses.

Only sometimes. I think Jawaad thought theyd help with the headache. Zayn wrinkles his nose
at Harry, when he pokes at the bridge again. What?

Theyre cute.

Shut up.
Youre cute, Harry teases, and Zayns feeling too gross to pout, or feel cute. Not that, I mean,
youre sick and all. But youre cute too.

m not cute, Zayn protests, and takes another sip of his soup. Its warming him up from the
inside as much as the blankets and sweatshirt are from the outside.

Youre very cute, Harry informs him, and dodges Zayns half-hearted swipe at him easily.

Really? This a kink of yours? Me being sick and miserable?

Definitely my thing, Harry agrees solemnly, holding his deadpan for a second before his lips
curve into a smile.

Zayn rolls his eyes. Whats your thesis about, he asks instead, because he needs something else
to say. They haventwell, theyve talked before, but usually only before or after sex. Hes not
sure what to do with this aimless flirting, unless Harry really does want sex right now, which is
definitely not going to happen. Actually, whats your major?

History. He doesnt seem offended Zayn didnt know, but then again, this is the first time
Zayns seen Harry doing work at all. But of course its history. My thesis is on the English Civil
War and its ramifications on American law.

And what are those? Zayn asks. But it soundsreal. Realer than what Zayn expected, anyway.

Fuck if I know. But itll sound good enough to get me into law school.

Law school?

Thats the plan, Harry agrees. He watches as Zayn has another spoonful. Oh, and Ashton said
you need to check in with your roommate, he wasnt convinced they werent just stealing all your
stuff.

My cousin, Zayn corrects, and sets aside the soup to pick up his phone. The ache isnt as bad
with that backlight, though he doesnt think hell want to stare at it long. There are two texts from
Claire, then four from Jawaad. Claires are just where are you? and then Jawaad said you were
sick, feel better, Ill nag you about it later. Jawaads start with a lunch? check in then go to why is
there a random bro in our apartment? to I gave them things if they stole them its on you to let me
know if you need anything. Zayn just hopes he didnt tell his mom, he doesnt want to worry her.
She already thinks he isnt taking good enough care of himself.

He sends Jawaad a quick check in text, confirming that hes sick and they havent kidnapped him
or stolen anythinghe thinksand to stop worrying.

Why should he stop worrying? Harry asks.

Dont look over my shoulder, Zayn tells him, but given that hes in Harrys bed wearing his
clothes and drinking soup he made him, he doesnt think he has a lot of right to snap. And
cause, like. Im the one who worries over him, he shouldnt be worrying over me.

And it cant go both ways? Harrys looking at him intently, like hes actually waiting for an
answer, not like he just needs to make conversation while they cant be having sex, so Zayn
shrugs.

Im the oldest boy cousin, its my job to look after the younger ones, Zayn explains. Its weird
to even articulate. He hasnt had to since his dad talked to him when he was five. Its just a part of
him now. Its what I do. Especially Jawaad, hes, like, my best friend and my little brother tied up
together.

Harrys giving him an odd look again, not the heated one he gets right before he wants to fuck
Zayn, but something almost confused. What? Zayn demands, testy suddenly. He picks up the
soup again, to have something to do with his hands. Dont you have family? He remembers
Harry talking about a sister, he thinks, and a mum and stepdad.

Yeah, an older sister, butIm the baby, I guess. Harry grins sheepishly. Im the one worried
over. How many cousins do you have?

A lot, Zayn knows hes smiling, but its what he does when he talks about his family. I mean,
theres me and my sisterstheres four of usthen theres the actual cousins, like, my mom and
dads siblings kids, then theres the ones who are just our auntie and uncles kids, then there are
my auntie and uncles who are really my age, and he lets out a stuffy snort at Harrys wide-
eyed look. Welcome to a Pakistani family, Styles.

And what, you have to look after all of them? Evenone of your sisters is older, right?

Zayn doesnt remember mentioning that. Yeah, Doniya, butsure. I look out for them.
Instinctively, he runs his fingers over his knuckles, over the long-faded bruises. It might surprise
you, but its not always easy being us. I make sure Im the one who gets the hard parts. Harrys
still looking at him, that not-quite-confused but intent look, and Zayn has to look down at his
hands. What? he asks again.

Youre cute, Harry replies, a laugh in his voice, and Zayn makes a face at his lap. You pretend
youre all cynical and snarky and annoyingly pretentious, but youre just a marshmallow, arent
you? I bet you like animals too.

Now Zayns the one whos confused, looking at Harry with his head cocked. Of course. I love
animals, I volunteer at a shelter at home sometimes. Im getting, like, three dogs and three cats as
soon as I graduate. He didnt know that was ever in question. He might be a little sharp
sometimes, and he wont take bullshit, and maybe his tempers a little fast, but hes always
considered himself a nice person. What about you? Dogs or cats?

Both. Harry makes a face, wrinkling his nose. Or, I like both, but dogs dont like me. Now
Zayn recognizes the look he gives Zayn, the flash of flirtation. Good thing for me youre just
catty.

Make any kitty jokes, and Ill cut off your dick, Zayn retorts, but he chuckles as he stretches a
little.

Whatever you say. Harry pauses. Are you tired? You should get more sleep, I think.

No, just, feeling gross still. Now that hes not drinking soup, hes a little cold again, and pulls
himself closer, cuddling into the sweatshirt. If you want me to go home, really, I can

Dont be stupid. Harry might be trying for stern, but he doesnt really make it very well. Im
not going to kick you out.

Dont you, I dont know. Have a party tonight or something?

I can stay in. Harry grins at Zayn. Or Ill leave you here. Dont worry. Im not sacrificing
anything.

And the world makes sense again, Zayn nods. Excepthe doesnt believe Harry, he finds. He
doesnt believe that hed leave Zayn here. Its a weird sensation, because Harrys not supposed to
take care of him, or really care about him, or any of that shit. Theyre using each other for their
bodies, because theyre attractive, and thats all. Zayn doesnt like frat bros.

But then again, frat bros arent supposed to feed him soup.

Theres a knock on the door. You better all be decent in there! Louis yells through the door.
No fucking while Zayns sick, Styles. Thats just unhygienic.

Harry winces away, and Zayn hadnt noticed hed gotten close as they talked, leaning together
like they were sharing secrets. Thats gross, Tommo! He yells back, What do you want?

Bringing tea to the invalid. Louis pushes the door open. Sure enough, he has a mug of tea in his
hand. I even managed to convince Niall not to spike it with anything, you should be thanking me
for that.

He bustles in, setting the mug of tea by the bedside and pressing the back of his hand to Zayns
forehead like Harry had earlier. Feels better, I think. The teall help too. He flicks at Zayns
forehead, then hes a step away before Zayn can extricate himself enough from the blankets to get
a shot back. And heres some more Advil, you can take some in an hour or so, and Ill get you
some more blankets. No strenuous activity, Haz. I mean it. I dont care if you get off on him in
your clothes.

With that, hes out of the room, and Zayns left blinking after him. Hewasnt Louis annoyed at
him last night? Because hed called him on being a dick?

Hes got five younger sisters, Harry explains, as the door shuts behind Louis again. Hes
another one of you worriers.

But

Here. These are from Liams bed, he wont need them and hes pretty clean. Louis comes back
in, dropping a mess of blankets on the bed. Haz, move.

I can help, Harry protests, but Louis ignores him, shaking out a blanket and spreading it over
Zayn.

You dont Zayn starts to protest, but Louis shakes his head.

Sorry, bro. Once Harry brought my mom into it, youre my responsibility. Shell be checking in
now. And I cant trust Styles here not to be overwhelmed by your ass.

Somehow, hes managed to hold in his urges for the past few hours, Zayn replies, sharper than
maybe he meant.

Oh good, youre yelling at me for political correctness, you must be feeling better. Louis spreads
another blanket over him, then leaves the rest at the foot of the bed. Keep drinking fluidsdoes
Liam have Gatorade, maybe? And Advil soon. Call my mom if you need to, Haz, Ive got to get
to practice but she knows you might. Feel better, Zee.

He disappears out of the room as abruptly and loudly as he had come in, leaving Zayn a little
confused and much warmer than before. And with Harry laughing at his confusion.

Hes a mother hen, told you. Harry laughs. Now, what do you want to do? I can get some
video games up here, or we can go downstairs, just I dont know whos here or what theyre
doing, and you might be contagious.
I need to read. Zayn holds up his Dostoyevsky.

Harry rolls his eyes. Youre sick, take a day off.

I need to get this read, because I have to write a paper on it this week, Zayn says, as evenly as
he can. And I need to do well on this paper, because I need good grades to get into a good
internship, and

Okay, okay. Harrys laughing again. You can read.

You dont have to stay, Zayn tells him. Hes not going to die or anything, Harry doesnt have to
watch him all the time. If you have, like, practice or something.

Not yet. Harry shrugs, and looks at his computer. I guess should probably do some work too.

You, work? Didnt know that happens.

It does occasionally. Harry shrugs, apparently unconcerned with Zayns sarcasm. Law school,
like I said. I need a good one. He pats Zayns thigh through the blanket. Drink your tea.

---

They dont say anything, but Zayn knows it changes, after that. Something changes, at least, or
maybe it had changed before. But its different, after that day. After Zayn had woken up from a
nap with his head pillowed on Harrys thigh, Harrys hands petting idly over his head as he read.
After Harry had stayed in that night, the two of them watching a movie on Zayns computer
Return of the King, because Harry refused any superhero movies (with a laugh at Zayn for being
a nerd) and Zayn refused Harrys stoner comedies. After Harry had watched how into the movie
Zayn got, because how could you not get into Theoden or Aragorns speeches, and hadnt really
laughed, had just smiled at him. After Zayn had fallen asleep again, and woken up cuddled close
to Harry, his hand on his chest.

Its nothing clear, whats changed. And they dont talk about it. But theres been a shift, and Zayn
can feel it.

Hey, Zayn. Zayn blinks, looking up from his computer to see Liam hovering at the seat across
from him, holding a tray piled high with pasta. Zayn glances around, but there are plenty of open
seats in the dining hall, plenty of places he could sit; he definitely said Zayns name.

Hey. Zayn nods, and Liam grins and sits down across from him. Hes in his usual tank top and
loose jeans, but theres a nervous, almost pinched look on his face, and it doesnt go away as he
starts to eat.

Hows your day been? Liam asks, swallowing a mouthful.

Good. Zayn pauses, but Liams fidgeting, and clearly not saying anything else. Whats up?

Um. Liam presses his lips together. Theres something charming, about the blush on his cheeks.
Youre an English major, right? I think Harry said that?

Yeah.

And Harry said youre like, proper smart. Really good at it.

Zayn cant help his grin at his sandwich. Um, I guess?

Okay. Liam swallows, rolling his shoulders back. Im failing my lit class. And if I get below a
C, my GPA will drop too low to be on the crew team.

Zayns smile fades. Of course. Here it is. He should have known it was coming, for all Liams
distracting body or puppy dog eyes. Its a flashback suddenly, to high school jocks and do my
homework or Ill beat you up. But he hadnt given in then, and hes not now. Im not writing
your papers for you, he spits, glaring.

Liams eyes widen, pretty convincingly. What? No, no I didnt mean that. I wouldnt. And
especially not youthere are people you can go to for that, I wouldnt ask it of you. No, I was
wonderingwould you mind, maybe, tutoring me?

It surprises Zayn enough that his glare fades. What?

Tutor me, Liam repeats. Maybe, talk over the books with me, make sure I got them? And look
over my papers? Please? He really is blushing now, rubbing at the back of his neck. Im fine
with numbers things, and I can make do with social sciences, but Im just really shit at English, but
I needed a writing course. Would you mind? We could do it at the house, whenever youre
around.

Zayn lets out a breath. But honestly. He doesnt know how anyone stands up to Liams puppy
dog eyes, or how hes fiddling. And its not a stupid request, though maybe he is stupid for
believing Liam, and it will turn into Zayn writing his papers for him. Yeah, sure, he agrees. No
problem.

Awesome! Liams eyes crinkle into a smile. Thanks so much, youre the best. I mean, I knew
you had to be, for Harry to be so into you, butthanks.

His smiles infectious, Zayn finds. No problem, I said.

Yeah, its just. I mean. I dont read much? Liam chatters on. Comics, but thats about it.

That gets Zayns attention. What comics?

Oh, well. Liam grins sheepishly. Im a massive superheroes fan. I know they arent, like,
literature or whatever, and its a bit nerdy, but I love em, you know?

No shit. Zayn sets his book aside. Im the biggest superhero nerd ever. Marvel or DC?

Liams eyes light up. DC, all the way. You cant beat Batman.

They argue about it for all of lunch, until Zayn needs to leave to get to class. Zayns grinning
when he leaves. He hasnt had a good discussion about that since he left high school, his friends
all a little too cool for comics, and he didnt want to go out and find the comics readers. Liams not
stupid about them, either, for all hes wrong about who the best Spiderman was, because Andrew
Garfield was clearly superior.

Theres a group if Pi Sigs hanging out outside the dining hall, shoving at each other and whistling
at girls who walk by. Zayn rolls his eyes, and walks faster. Good to know some things about life
are constant.

---

Hey, Zayn! Zayn pauses to wait as Claire jogs to catch up with him, even if really, she could
probably catch up with him without him waiting. She links their arms together as they start
walking again. I just wanted to tell you that the circulation on the magazine is way up, this
edition. I dont know why, but somehow its been going much faster.

Clearly my designs just irresistible, Zayn drawls, but when Claire cuffs him on the back of the
head, he laughs. Nah, thats great, though.

Right? And just in time. I can throw this on my resume. She grins, bright as the fall sun, the sort
of smile that takes up her whole face and makes her beautiful. You could too, you know. Youre
basically co-editor.

Thats your job. I just do what has to be done.

Because you refuse to let me title you, Claire retorts. Its some deep-seated self-esteem thing,
isnt it? Im a psych minor, I am totally qualified to therapize you.

At least two of those words arent words, Zayn shoots back, but hes laughing too. Its not, he
knows. Or he doesnt think. He just doesnt really want the commitment inherent in having his
name on something like that. Hes happy doing what hes doing, and it can go on his resume in
some way. He doesnt want to be in charge, never has been. But he saw a place to help and he
did, thats all.

Shut up, English major. Maybe Im Shakespeare.

Ive seen your poetry, you arent.

Mean. Claire snorts.

Whos being mean? Zayn doesnt know how they do it, always drawn together, but somehow
Marta appears on his other side. Like her girlfriend, she links their arms together, like some weird
gay rendition of the Wizard of Oz. So maybe not that weird.

Zayn.

You going to defend her honor? Zayn grins down at Marta.

I totally could. I could take you. She puffs out her chest. Though I be but little

Uh-huh. Zayn would ruffle her hair, but both his arms are occupied. So instead he just sticks his
tongue out.

They turn a corner. He doesnt know where the girls are going, but hes on his way home, he
thinks. Hell probably end up at the house later, but he needs to write at least five pages of his
thesis, and he wants to hear how Jawaads no Im almost certain this ones a date study session
went.

Their route home takes them past the gym, and Zayn just happens to look over as a Harry comes
out, Niall and Liam at his heels. Theyre all talking amidst themselves, and Zayn might take a
second to ogle, because its worth oglingHarrys in his gym shorts and nearly translucent white
tank top again, and its sticking to his tanned skin and the suns hitting his arms as he waves them
as he talks and its in his hair and his smilebefore he goes on past, but then Harry looks up,
catches his gaze.

He grins, and Zayn nods back. There, acknowledgment. He didnt really expect more than that,
when they were both with their friends. Martas in her combat boots and her hairs got pink tips
today; Claires got her biggest wide-rimmed glasses on. They arent the sort of people Harryd
want to talk to, he knows.
Which is why hes not expecting it when, Hey, Zayn! Harry says loudly, not quite a yell, but
clearly loud enough that Zayn cant ignore it.

Claires eyebrows go up. Someone you know?

Um, yeah. Zayn twitches, but the girls have fast hold on his arms, so he cant do anything but
turn them around. Heswell

He hasnt quite figured out how to phrase it by the time the three boys catch up with them. It is,
Zayn supposes, also on the way to Greek Row, but they didnt have to walk with him. Hey,
Zayn, Harry says again, dimpling. I didnt know you knew where the gym was.

Oh, is that the gym? I thought it was just your super secret hideaway, Zayn retorts.

Its that too, Niall agrees easily. Hes eying Marta in a way thats not even subtle. Arent you
going to introduce as, Zayn?

Both girls are giving him skeptical looks, but what is he supposed to do? Oh, yeah. Marta, Claire,
this is Harry, Niall, and Liam. Guys, this is Marta and Claire.

And how do you know Zayn? Harry asks, sounding polite. Hes also eying both girls, but Zayn
knows what Harry looks like when hes attracted to someone, and it isnt that look.

He is our tragically sexually incompatible life partner, Marta answers, patting Zayns bicep.

Nialls gaze is still fixed on her, and Zayn knows whats coming and doesnt know how to stop it.
If you need a sexually compatible

The incompatibles not just on his end, Claire says, hard and harsh, and Marta giggles as Nialls
eyes narrow for a second, then widen.

Its Liam, though, who voices the, Oh, youre

Yeah. Claire lets go of Zayn to cross her arms over her chest. Zayn knows a little bit about her
history, about high school and religious parents and all the shit shes dealt with, so he shifts so he
can clearly be behind her, backing her up. They might be cool enough with the gay thing, but
lesbians are often a different story, and hes not going to deal with that. Not even if he does, in
general, like Niall. And no, its not because we havent met the right guy.

Her tones combative, but Niall just laughs, holds up his hands. Fair play! he chuckles. Not
going to deny the lure of pussy.

Zayn snorts, he cant help it. Harry laughs too, but Liam shakes his head. Thanks, Niall. Real
classy.

Im always classy, Niall retorts. He gives both girls a leer that somehow manages to be friendly.
If you ever want to experiment, look me up.

Thanks. Martas voice is unusually cool. Now that thats sorted, she goes on, sharpening.
How do you know Zayn?

We Harry pauses, looking at Zayn. He had relaxed, but now hes tense again, Zayn and
I he trails off, shrugging.

We hook up sometimes, Zayn fills in. Its not like hes ashamed of it, and the girls already
know, even if they dont know who. And he can see them make the connection, as their eyes dart
to Harry and back.

Sometimes, Liam mutters under his breath. All the time.

Liams room is next to Harrys, Niall explains to the girls. Marta looks on the brink of bursting
into laughter, Claire like shes gearing up for a lecture. Im down the hall, so I only hear the
highlights.

Like I havent heard both of you, Harry shoots back. His cheeks are a little flushed, but he
smiles, unconcerned. What exactly were Sophia and you doing two nights ago, Liam?

Liam goes bright red. I

I mean, I didnt know her dad was in the room, Zayn adds. Theyd just been about to go to
sleep when theyd heard that, and then theyd been giggling too hard to sleep. Maybe wed have
been quieter if we knew.

Shut up, Liam retorts. Zayn exchanges a satisfied smirk with Harry.

So, Claire says drily. No one does judgment quite like Claire. This waselucidating. But
Zayn, we were going to catch that film festival thing

Zayn glances at his watch. Oh, shit, was that today?

Yes, she replies shortly. It was. Where did you think we were going?

Home? Zayn tries, rubbing his neck sheepishly.

Claire rolls her eyes, and Marta laughs. You were the one who wanted this!

Yeah, well. I forgot. He knows hed written it down somewhere. Ill run home and drop my
shit off, I can meet you there.

Or well go with you and make sure you dont take an hour getting ready, Marta tells him
instead. Come on. We only built in so long for you to be late.

Yeah, okay. Zayn gives them his most charming smile, then turns to the boys. Weve got to
run, sorry.

We need to go pick up beer anyway, Niall agrees. He nods at the girls. Remember. Im happy
to be experimented on, if you ever want it.

Doubt it, Claire mutters, as Marta laughs and thanks him.

Zayn. Zayns distracted from watching Claire decide if Nialls being tolerant or sexually
harassing them by a finger in his belt loops, pulling him towards Harry. Then its hard to look
anywhere else, with Harry right there. Zayn just wants to knock his stupid hat off and get his
fingers in his hair. Come by later?

Yeah. For lack of anywhere else to put his hands, they end up on Harrys hips, where he can
feel the skin above his shorts. Marathon might go late, though.

What sort of marathon? Harry asks. He looks really interested, too, even if he hasnt let go of
Zayn yet either.

Itsthe directors Lubitsch, he was a director in the 20s, he did Zayn tries to think of any
way Harry might understand. He did the thing that Youve Got Mail is a remake of. And a
way Harry might understand. He did the thing that Youve Got Mail is a remake of. And a
bunch of silent movies too.

Cool! Harry grins, and try as Zayn might, he cant see mockery in it. I love old movies. Ive
never seen silent films, but, old black and white shit? Thats the best.

Really? You like that sort of stuff? Zayns seen Harrys taste in movies, the sort of shit he makes
Zayn watch. Harry shrugs.

Yeah, sure. I was almost a film studies major, but, well. Law school. It doesnt computeor it
sort of does, really, for Harry, which computes even less. Ill be up, though. Maybe Ill look up a
movie or two.

Zayn glances over his shoulders. The girls are making what looks like the worlds most awkward
small talk with Liam and Niall, Martas hand steadying in Claires.

You could I mean, you could come, Zayn suggests. Its weird, but he cant think of a reason
not to. There arent reservations or anything. You wouldnt have to stay, if you get bored. I know
its boring, if you arent into that.

Oh. Harrys eyes widen for a second, but then he grins. Yeah, sure! I can run home and get
changed, meet you there.

Awesome. Zayn looks at Claire again. She might kill him. I mean, you dont have to. It was
justif youre interested.

Harry leans down, so his lips brush over Zayns ear. Dark room, youIm not saying no to
that.

Were watching the movie, Zayn retorts, but hes laughing, as he shoves Harry away. Hurry
up and shower, you smell gross.

You love it when I smell sweaty, Harry corrects, but he grins back. Come on, guys, Ive got to
go. Ill see you there! he tells the girls, with a grin Zayn recognizes as the one he gives the TA
when hes clearly not done the reading, and leads them off.

Claire turns her glare to him. Zayn shrugs. He wanted to come.

So you invite your hook up? she demands. Your fraternity douche hook up? You cant just
hook up during it.

Hes not that bad, Zayn retorts. Its nothing he didnt think, but she doesnt even know him.
They arent that bad. They were chill with you guys, werent they?

For a given definition. But Claire lets out her breath. He just better have a fucking magic dick.

Its a delight, Zayn snaps. Now are we going to get going, or do you want to be late?

---

Harrys waiting for them when they get to the film studies center, lounging outside with his head
tilted to look at his phone. He looks goodhe always looks good, but the only times Zayns really
seen him in clothes that arent the sweats or shorts he wears to class Zayns either been drunk or
trying to rip them off of him. So its a little bit of a new experience, to see Harry in tight jeans that
accentuate his narrow hips, his long legs, and a blue button down shirt with the top few buttons
open so his chests on display, a necklace with an airplane on it bouncing against the muscles
there. Zayn swallows. He looks really fucking goodand more than that, he looks like he made
an effort. Zayns suddenly thankful instead of embarrassed that he spent the time to take his hair
down and to throw on a sweater, rather than just dropping his stuff off, no matter how the girls
teased.

Okay, fine, Claire mutters, as they get closer. Hes hot. Ill give you that.

Zayn doesnt have time to reply before Harry sees them, and smiles, big and bright. Hey! he
says, loudly. Ready to go in? I wasnt sure if youd have opinions on seats or not, so I thought
Id wait.

We would have been here sooner, if someone hadnt spent so much time on his hair, Marta
informs him, throwing a teasing glance at Zayn. Zayn sticks his tongue out at her, then follows her
through the door that Harry holds open for them.

Harry catches his hips as he closes the doors, curving around him so he can whisper in his ear. I
at least appreciate the effort.

Zayn rolls his eyes and steps away, but he doesnt go far.

They settle onto the floor of the big, open space somewhere in the middle of the group. Marta and
Harry disappear for a few minutes, then come back with pillows for all of them, and Zayn doesnt
really want to know how they were acquired, if he goes by Harrys smirk. But by the time they
movies started, Marta and Claire are cuddled together on one pillow, and Harrys thigh is pressed
against his, a constant pressure that makes Zayn intimately aware that Harrys next to him.

He expects Harry to get bored, really. Its sweet, Harry wanting to do this with him, maybe for
him, but silent films are hard if youre not into that stuff, and hes seen Harry get fidgety in the few
lectures hes been to, how hes pretty quickly looking up sports scores.

But Harry stays still, watching the screen with big eyes, except for a few glances at Zayn when
Zayn reacts, because hes a loud movie watcher. Its Zayn who gets fidgety, waiting for Harry.
Theyre in a dark room. Usually when he and Harry are in a dark room, they end up fooling
around. And Zayn knows Claire and Marta are next to them, and there are students all around
them, but Harry looks really good.

He edges closer, his hand sliding over Harrys belt, and turns his head to press his lips against
Harrys neck. He smells like some sort of aftershave, musky but sweet.

He can feel the vibration of Harrys chuckle against his skin. Zayn.

What? Zayn whispers, smirking as he lifts his head so Harrys jaw is right there. Harrys not
going to get the drop on him. He knows its coming, he might as well take the initiative.

But Harry turns his head, and his hand wraps around Zayns waist instead of going for anything
less chaste. Later, baby. I want to watch the movie.

Im not your baby, Zayn mutters, but, okay. He can do that too. He can sit there with Harry in
the dark with Harrys head on his shoulder and his hair getting into Zayns mouth, can watch an
old movie about love with him, and have them both be interested. Itsokay. Apparently its
something they can do.

Then after, he can wave goodbye to Claire and Marta and ignore their disapproving and knowing
looks, respectively, and end up back in Harrys bed, in the dark but much, much less chaste, and
he falls asleep with Harrys head on his chest and his hands in Harrys hair, playing idly with the
curls until he drops off.
---

Liam. Reluctantly, Liam drags his eyes away from the football game playing on the big screen
of the house living room, and focuses back on Zayn, and the computer screen theyre sharing.

Sorry, he mutters, sheepish. Right. So, the quotes?

Basically, you need more. Zayn scrolls through the paper open on the screen. Theyre where
your facts are, they should be the backbone of your paper. I think thats your main problem here,
really. Ive marked the places I think you really need textual evidence. I can look it over again
when youre done with that.

Thanks! Liam grins, his eyes crinkling. Seriously, Zayn. Youre the best.

Zayn shrugs, and hands the computer to Liam, settling back on the couch, turning so he can fit
better against Harry. It wasnt a big thing.

No, but itthis is going to save my hide with coach. Liam closes the laptop and sets it on the
coffee table, then his focus clearly turns completely onto the game. And my mom. Yourefuck
yeah! he yells, at what Zayn presumes is a touchdown on screen.

Zayn rolls his eyes, and picks up his own computer. He could go to the libraryhonestly, he
should probably have gone to the library to work with Liam, but theyd both already been here
and it had seemed silly to walk to the library, and Liam had insisted he could concentrate. And
now it seems just as silly to walk to the library when Zayns comfortable here, with the boys
yelling in the background and Harry as a nice warm backrest.

Youre good at that, Harry observes. Zayn hadnt even thought he was watching, had thought
he was just paying attention to the game.

Zayn shrugs. Yeah, well. s what I want to do, I think.

Teach?

Yeah.

Youll be good at it, Harry tells him, firmly. It sounds right for you.

Zayn snorts. Tell that to my parents. As soon as he says it, he knows its unfair. And its not
something Harry needs to hear, and its certainly not something all the other guys need to hear,
lazily drunk on a Saturday afternoon.

Thankfully, something else happens on screen, to distract everyone. Or so he hopes, but

Do your parents not want you to be a teacher? Harry presses. Isnt that what everyone wants?

Theyre Zayn twists his lips, trying to figure out how to explain it to Harry. To someone like
Harry. Im the first one in my family to go to college, yeah? And theylike, I know my dad
loves me, and hell support whatever I do, but I feel like hed have preferred I, dunno. He thinks I
could be a doctor.

Youre smart enough to be a doctor, Harry agrees. His voice is warm, and not judgmental, and
its stupid but it feels nice to hear.

Yeah, but I dont want to be one. I dont like blood and shit, and thatsI think Id burn out.
And I like English and teaching and shit. He shrugs again. they just, like, they dont say it, but
they think Im wasting the opportunity, or something.

Thats bullshit. It doesnt come from Harry, and Zayn nearly jumps. But Louiss voice is sharp
and sure, over the commercial for Bud Light. Being a teachers the most you could be using this
opportunity. Educating our youth and all that shit.

Not much money in it. Zayn gets it, is the thing. Gets why his dad had nodded but hadnt
looked entirely pleased when hed said he was majoring in English, why his mothers lips pinch
when he mentions the fellowships hes looking for. And its not a thing, yeah? Theyre cool with
it.

And your parents are cool with Niall cuts himself off, but he gestures, and it somehow takes
in how Zayn and Harry are sitting, tangled together with Harrys head resting on Zayns so he can
watch the TV.

Yeah. Zayn pokes at Harrys leg. My dad always says theres too many girls about, I think he
was happy knowing eventually the men would outnumber them. Probably, I mean.

Butarent you Muslim? Liam asks, and Zayns eyes narrow. Thats not okay with them,
right?

Yes, amazingly there are Muslims who are progressive and are okay with their son being gay,
Zayn snaps. Harrys hand runs down his arm, like hes calming him down, but he didntits just
bullshit, the number of times people ask him that. Its astonishing, yeah? They arent ready to
declare jihad.

I dont think my parents would be, Niall interrupts, before Zayn can keep going. He leans back
into Harry. He knows Liam didnt mean anything by it, but fuck that. I think thered be a lot of
rosaries, or something.

Says the altar boy, Louis retorts, shoving at him. We know what altar boys get up

Games on! Liam cuts him off, and all their focus shifts. Zayn turns back to his paper, but after
writing another few pages, he finds his attention drifting. He did plenty today, and he can do more
tomorrow, and he just really doesnt want to think about symbols or Pynchon any more today.

He bends over Harry to dig out the comic Liam had lent him, but something else on the bottom
shelf of the coffee table catches his eye. It takes a little bit of maneuvering, and Harry laughing at
himhes only a few inches shorter than Harry, he doesnt know where he gets off on all this
tauntingbut he eventually grabs a very familiar magazine.

Whys this here?

Harry draws his attention away from the game, and Zayn thinks he blushes, but hes not sure.
Ive beenI put some around, you know? You only had them in a few places, so thought Id
spread them around a bit.

Zayn blinks. Its not what he expected, not even a little, except its so in character. Youre
sweet, he tells Harry, and Harry smirks at him.

Not what you said last night.

You are, though, Zayn insists, and squeezes Harrys arm, in a thanks hes not sure he can say.
This waslike, its sweet.

Its important to you, right? I saw how much work you put into it. Harry shrugs, waving it
away. It wasnt hard or anything. Just helping out.

If Im cute, youre sweet, Zayn retorts, and this time punctuates it with a light cuff to Harrys
head. Harrys dimples deepen as he laughs.

Well you are cute, Harry admits, and leans in for a quick kiss.

Im going to dump water on you soon, Louis warns, and they break apart laughing. Youre
worse than Liam and Sophia.

Were not Zayn starts to protest, because theyre not like Liam and Sophia, but,

Fuck theyre running! Harry yells, surging to his feet, and Zayn falls back into the couch with a
roll of his eyes, opening his comic as the boys all start screaming about the game.

---

Zaaaayn. Zayn rolls his eyes as he ducks upstairs. The basements hot and crowded, and more
than that, its loud, in the way underground shows should be. Loud and close and intimate. Which
isnt conducive to a phone call.

What, Harry?

Where are you? Are you at a party without me? Zayn finally emerges up onto the street. Its
blessedly cool out here, and he digs in his pocket for a cigarette as he answers. He could stay out
here a while.

Im at a show, Harry. He lights the cigarette, leans back against the brick wall of the bar.
Whats up?

Whats up is Im drunk and youre not here, Harry whines, like Zayn needed to be told that. Its
a Friday night, after all.

So this is a booty call?

You havent got much of a booty to call, but yeah.

You like what booty I have, Zayn retorts, and Harry chuckles, low and deep.

I do, he agrees, and hes slurring, more than usual. Harrys got decent tolerance, Zayns figured
out from stories, even if hes no Niall, but this soundsloopy. You should come over, baby.
Make it worth your while.

Are you at the house?

At. On. Around. Theres laughter, not just his.

On? Zayn repeats, and he remembers Liam that night, leaning out on the roof, egged on because
theyre so stupid that way. And Liams an athlete, hes got balance, Harrys a klutz on his best
days. Are you on the roof, Harry?

We all are! Im the drunkest, though, cause I won.

What did you win?

The drinking game! We wanted to see who could do the most shots in a minute. I won.
Of course you did. Zayn glances back downstairs, but the shows almost over, and it wasnt that
great anyway. If you get off the roof, Ill come over.

Youre such a spoilsport, Harry sighs, then theres a crash, and a bang, and Harry swearing, and
the call cuts off.

Fuck. Zayns moving before he thinks about it, towards Greek Row. Those roofs are steep and
Harry was clearly trashed, and a fall from that height could do serious damage, especially when
not sober enough to know how to fall, and all the other guys were probably too trashed to do
anything. And Harry doesnt answer when he calls back. Either time.

He doesnt quite run to the house, but it still takes him far less time than he should to get there, and
hes more winded than he should be when he lets out a breath at there being no ambulance.
Someone would at least know to do that if Harryd fallen off the roof.

Instead, he only makes it to the porch before hes hit in the side by a body wrapping itself around
him.

Zayn! Harry reeks of alcohol, and his grin is bright and sloppy, though his eyes are bleary.
Youre here?

What the fuck happened? Zayn demands, grabbing Harrys shoulders. But he looks fine, just
drunk off his ass.

Happened? Harry repeats.

You cut off, and then you didnt pick up your phone. What happened?

Oh. Idont know? I called you?

And thats all Zayns getting out of him tonight, clearly. Okay, Harry. Time for bed.

Yeah it is, Harry agrees, waggling his eyebrows. He tries to grope Zayns ass, but misses and
his hand hits air instead. Oops.

Yeah, oops. Come on. Zayn throws Harrys arm over his shoulder, and pulls him towards the
door. Its already opening when Zayn levers Harry up the stairs, which would be a lot easier if
Harry wasnt doing something that he thinks is trying to be sexy against his neck.

Oh, good, he didnt get far, Louis says, as he holds open the door.

Didnt get far?

Yeah, he wanders when hes drunk. I was about to head to yours, honestly, see if he went that
way.

Louis, Zayns here! Harry says, grinning proudly. Hes taking me to bed.

Yeah he is, Louis agrees, laughing. Need help, Zayn?

He doesnt, Harry assures Louis, and Louis snorts as Zayn wills himself not to react.

Definitely time for bed, he tells Harry, then to Louis. What happened to him?

Hes just drunk. He beat Niall, for once, Louis gets quickly out of the way as Harry stumbles
forward. You sure youre okay?
Im fine, Harry insists, and then trips so Louis and Zayn both grab his shoulders, lever him
upright, when he drapes himself over Zayn again. Were gonna fuck, come on, Zayn.

Yeah, because youre definitely getting it up right now, Zayn mutters, but he waves Louis
away, and starts them up the stairs. He definitely did not sign up for this, for Harry basically a
dead weight except for all the nonsense hes muttering into Zayns ear. But he gets them upstairs,
and then to Harrys bed, before he dumps Harry down there.

Cmere, Harry slurs, holding out his arms. Gonna fuck you so good.

Uh-huh. Zayn nods. Hes never been so thankful for Harrys sneakers before, because they
come off easily, and he can sleep in the rest of what he has on. Hed really hoped he was done
with this after Freshman year. And you didnt get like this with weed. Bedtime, sleep it off.

Sleep you off, Harry makes that same grabby motion, tries for a smirk. This drunk, its lost all its
arrogance, and makes him look more like a sleepy child that Zayn cant help but smile at.
Wannafuck, he swears, and suddenly hes green, his hand on his mouth.

Zayn jumps out of the way before Harry stumbles to the door and down the hall, hitting the wall
hard as he turns. Its close, but he makes it to the bathroom, and the sound of puking is clear.

Of course. Zayn trails after him, runs his hand down Harrys back as he retches into the toilet,
gathers up the loose strands of Harrys hair like hed used to do with his sisters when they were
sick. Hes not puking long, but when hes done he just sags there for long enough that Zayn
shakes his shoulder gently.

Harry.

Huh? Harry lifts his head. His eyes are bleary, and the flush has gone to just a dull pallor.
Zayn! Why are you here?

Because youre an idiot, Zayn tells him. Brush your teeth, then bed.

Yeah. Harry agrees vaguely, but its enough that Zayn gets him upright and to the sink so he
can brush his teeth, then back to his room, where Zayn dumps him into bed again. This was not
what hed come over here for.

Here, Harry mutters, and reaches out his hands again, from under the blankets where Zayn had
tucked him in.

Yeah I know whats been in your mouth, thats not happening. Zayn leans down though,
presses his lips to Harrys forehead. Ill be back in a second.

Better be, Harry mutters, but he relaxes back down, curls up so the blankets wrap tight around
him. He looks about five right now, innocent despite how Zayn knows very well hes not.

Zayn shuts the door gently behind him. He might not like it, but he knows how to do this. He still
remembers with a bit of horror the first time Claire had gotten properly drunk Freshman year. The
boys are still in the living room mostly, although some might have gone to bed or out, but the
TVs definitely on, and Zayn can hear cheering. He ignores that though, goes to the kitchen to
pour a glass of water, then back upstairs. Theres Advil in the medicine cabinet, so Zayn gets that,
then sets a few pills and the glass of water on the bedside table, for when Harry wakes up.

Theres a snort from the bed, and Zayn looks over. Harrys still out cold, sprawled on his stomach
now. Theres a bit of drool at the corner of his mouth. It should be far more revolting than it is.
Well then. He should probably stay, make sure Harry doesnt choke on his own vomit, but he
wasnt prepared for this when he went out tonight. Zayn heads back out to the hall. There are a
bunch of brothers in the living room still, doing something with alcohol Zayns really trying not to
think about.

You cant chicken out now! Liam laughs, nudging at someone. Weve only got another bottle,
we can do it!

Im done, Jared announces. From what Zayn can see, hes wobbling, but he looks steadier than
Harry had, at least. You can finish without me.

Thats so Liam cuts himself off. Thats lame. To life! He hands Jared another bottle, and
Jared laughs and toasts with it, before they both chug. There are bottles littering the floor, around
the boys feet, and Zayn needs to jump in before theyre all incoherent.

Hey.

Zayn! Zayner my Zayner. Louis toasts him with his video game controller from the couch.
Zaynaroni. Come play with me.

Yeah, stop. Zayn rolls his eyes at him, and Louis snorts before focusing back on his game. Do
you guys have any saline solution? Hes not going to bed with contacts in, but he hadnt thought
of this when hed decided to combat the growing headache with wearing his contacts today.

None in the bathroom? Niall asks. He seems a bit more sober than the rest of them, but his
tolerance is way out of proportion to his body mass, from what Zayns seen, and there are just as
many bottles near his seat on the armchair.

Nope. s fine, Ill run out

Michael. Louis waves a hand, and Michael bounces up from his seat. Maybe theyve been
watching his intake, or maybe hes just got a Freshmans energy, but he doesnt seem as drunk.

Yep! Do you need anything else? Is he makes a face. Theres not, like, puke or anything to
clean up, is there?

No, Harry got to the bathroom. But you dont have to go, Zayn says, but Michaels already out
of earshot. The kid moves fast.

He didnt have to go, Zayn repeats, perching on the arm of the couch near Louis. I could have
gone.

He does, actually. Louis doesnt look away from his game this time. Liams trying to convince
Jared to take another shot, it looks like, and succeeding. Girlfriend privileges.

Girlfriend privileges? Zayn echoes. Im no ones girlfriend.

Sure. Niall finishes his beer, sets it delicately down on the table. Means he has to do what you
say, too. And like, you can invite people to parties and shit, but you dont care about that.

Im not Harrys girlfriend, Zayn repeats. He doesnt think theyre getting that. Im not a girl.
And Im not even his boyfriend.

Niall shrugs. Whatever. If he keeps you happy, he keeps Harry laid, so he keeps Harry happy.
So, girlfriend privileges.
Zayn blinks at him, but its too late for this argument. He doesnt even know which part hes most
offended by.

Whatever. Im going upstairs. Tell Michael to just knock on the door when he gets back, yeah?

Yeah, Niall nods, and Zayn goes back upstairs. Harrys still out cold, so Zayn has no
compunctions tugging the blankets away from him after hes stripped to his boxers, so he can slide
into bed too.

---

For once in his life, Zayn wakes up before Harry. Its a novel feeling, being awake when Harrys
still sprawled over him and the bed, one arm and a leg over Zayn and his mouth in Zayns
shoulder. Hes snoring like a freight train, and Zayn does not envy him the hangover thats
coming.

But for right now, Zayn just grabs the copy of Murakami he knew hed left somewhere that was
apparently Harrys bedside table, and cracks it open. Theres enough light in the room that he
doesnt need to turn anything on, and its oddly nice for a morning, having Harrys snores in the
background as he reads, petting Harrys hair idly because its right there.

He gets about a chapter farther before Harry groans and shifts on the bed. Zayn lets his hand fall
from his head.

Zayn? Harry rolls over, moaning as the light hits his eyes. Whend you get here?

Last night. You called me. And apparently dont remember it. Zayn puts down his book to grab
the water and Advil, closing Harrys hands around both. Take these.

Harry swallows without objection, then chugs the whole glass of water before he opens his eyes
again, squinting at Zayn. I called you?

From the roof.

Harry nods, like that makes sense, then drops his head back down into the pillow. I feel like
shit.

Im not surprised. Zayn cant help his laugh as Harry shoves at his shoulder. Apparently you
beat Niall in a shots taking contest.

I did? Sick.

Yeah, you were.

Harry groans again. Too hungover for you being snarky and judgy. Go back to reading.

Zayn snorts and does, and doesnt say anything when Harry drops his head onto Zayns chest
again. Harry, in return, doesnt say anything about the fact that Zayns apparently petting him
again. They lie like that for another few pages, then Harry lifts his head up. I need a shower, he
announces, and sits up to strip off his shirt.

Zayn watches the show, then goes back to his book as Harry disappears towards the shower. But
now hes awake, properly, and things are nagging at him again.

Harry comes back in twenty minutes later, and Zayns fairly distracted by his flushed skin and the
way his towel hangs low over his hips, but not enough that he doesnt ask, when Harry closes the
door again, So I hear I have girlfriend privileges.

Harry nods, looking at the mirror. Yeah, figured it was time.

Im not a girl.

I noticed, thanks. Harry tries for a leer, which would work better if his hair wasnt an utter mess
and his gaze wasnt still sleepy. s just a phrase, its whatever. He shrugs. Mainly just means
everyone expects you to be around all the time, it doesnt mean anything.

And Im not your boyfriend, Zayn doesnt say. Hes not. He sees Harrys point with the privileges
or whatever, buthe likes fucking Harry, and he likes hanging out with Harry when hes not
being an asshole, but they arent more than that. They arent even friends.

But Harrys not making a deal out of it, clearly doesnt care, so Zayn takes a breath. Its fine. Hes
fine.

Harry looks back at the mirror, then his head tilts to the side. Was I on the roof?

Yes. And drunk enough to be browning out, apparently.

Harry turns around. His towels still tucked temptingly low around his hips, probably forgotten.
At least I didnt fall off this time. He tilts his head, his eyes narrowing. Did I puke?

This time? That gets Zayn to sit up straight. Have you fallen off before?

Only once, and I didnt break anything, it was fine. There was definitely puking, I remember
that.

You fell off the roof, Zayn repeats. And yet you still go up there?

Sure. Harry runs a hand back through his hair. Wet, its almost long enough to reach his
shoulders, framing his jaw. Did I puke on you?

Around me, Zayn corrects. He doesnt know why he even tried with the roof thing. Clearly
there are some things frat bro brains are not made to compute. Such as personal safety. If you
threw up on me, I wouldnt be anywhere near here. Its only sort of a lie. Hes looked after too
many sisters and cousins while their parents worked to be squeamish. But there are limits, he
guesses. Being puked on would probably be them.

And you put me to bed afterwards, Harry goes on. Theres something about him that recalls last
night, curled up in bed; the openness of it. Even naked, Zayn doesnt think hes quite looked like
this before, his smirks gone and something soft in his gaze. Even with the puking.

Yeah, well. Zayn looks down at his book. You looked after me when I was sick, I was just
paying you back.

That look holds for a second, then, You didnt puke on me, though, Harry points out, and
saunters towards the bed. Hes still not quite at full leer, but its close. Think I still need to make it
up to you. The towel falls from his hips as he crawls up Zayns thighs, and hes all flushed skin
that Zayn cant look away from.

I think youre still hungover and Im not caffeinated, Zayn retorts. Its not that he objects, but,
And I know whats been in your mouth recently.

Im clean! Harry protests. Showered and everything, see? he shakes his head like a dog, and
the water flies from it onto Zayn.

Harry! Zayn snaps, but hes laughing. Its hard not to be. Dont you want caffeine?

Yeah. Harry sits back on his heels, and sighs. Its hard not to notice his cock like this, but Zayn
really could use coffee, too. Fine, let me make it up to you tonight. Theres a Pi Sig party, you
should come.

Even though youre hungover?

Hair of the dog. Harry grins. Please? Itll be fun.

I dont think anything could make me go to a Pi Sig party, Zayn tells Harry, shoving at him. He
doesnt move. Its not hot or anything.

Well see about that, Harry smirks, and leans forwardthen stops, winces. Fuck, after coffee.
Im going to start convincing you after coffee.

Bring me some too, please, Zayn tells him and then is definitely swearing more than giggling
when Harry gives his hair another shake before he gets off of Zayn to go get them caffeine.

---

Youre alive?

Zayn closes the door behind him before he heads into the kitchen, where Jawaads eating a bowl
of cereal, leaning against the counter. Why wouldnt I be?

I dont know, I just thought you disappeared. Jawaad shrugs. I wasnt looking forward to
telling Aunt Trisha about it, honestly.

Disappeared? Zayn repeats. The cereal looks good, but Jawaads vicious about his food, so he
edges around Jawaad to get to the cupboards. He should probably have some carbs. Getting drunk
at a frat party is just so clich. Ive been texting you.

I havent seen you in a week. Jawaad stabs his spoon at him. I thought you might have been
kidnapped. Or abducted, he adds, looking pointedly at Zayns shirt. Who are you and what
have you done with my cousin?

Zayn looks down, at the tank top hed grabbed from Harry, which does have Delta Chi
emblazoned across it. I needed a shirt, mine got he trails off, then smirks as dirtily as he
knows how. Unwearable. Hed been annoyed about that, actually, that Harry had just grabbed
the first thing handy to clean them off and it had ended up being his t-shirt, but now its more
funny than anything, especially as Jawaad gags.

Youre disgusting.

Im well satisfied, Zayn retorts. He pours himself a bowl of cereal, then goes to the fridge for the
milk. And its just a shirt.

I just never thought Id see the day when you were wearing a fraternity shirt, thats all. Jawaad
shrugs again. Or when youd live at a frat house.

I dont live there, Zayn protests. He glances at his phone. He has plenty of time, but hed love a
nap, or maybe to get in a page on his thesis before the party. Ive fallen asleep after sex.
Youve slept there for the past week, Jawaad corrects. At a frat house. Is that even hygienic?

They arent that bad.

Uh-huh. Jawaad snorts. So what happened to the speech you gave me freshman year, about
how frats are the scum of the earth?

I Its true, he had given that speech. About how frat boys were lazy, rich kids living off their
parents money and privilege, dumb and drunk and offensive and loud and dangerous in groups.
I might have misjudged, he admits, brushing his hair back. The Delta Chis arent that bad.

Arent that bad, Jawaad snorts. That what you tell Harry in bed? He isnt that bad?

Shut up. Zayn rolls his eyes. What are you up to tonight?

Maria and I are hanging out. Jawaads smile is small and incredulous, a little bashful. Its
adorable. Just us.

Adorable. Zayn pinches Jawaads cheeks, then dodges the hand Jawaad slaps at him. Its about
time.

Yeah, I thinkI think this seems like, the real thing? Jawaad circles his spoon in the remnants
of his cereal. I think she does like me.

Of course she does, who wouldnt? Zayn grins at Jawaads eye roll. So, I should tell the
aunties to start planning the wedding?

Dont you fucking dare tell them! Jawaad snaps, his eyes widening in the very real fear of all
their female relatives descending. Or Ill tell them youve shacked up with a guy. You know
theyve been wondering when youre getting married since it was legalized.

Hes going to be a lawyer, theyll be delighted, Zayn retorts, laughing at the face Jawaad makes.
Ive got to take a shower. Have fun on your date.

Where are you going? Jawaad demands, but Zayn waves a hand as he heads to his room. Hes
certainly not admitting to Jawaad just where Harry convinced him to go. Its not his fault Harrys
got a really convincing mouth.

Its only once hes in his room that he realizes just how little time he has spent in it. The beds
made from a week ago, when Harryd been out of town; laundrys piled up. Its not that Zayn
hasnt been here, but usually hes just grabbed things, books to take to the library or clothes that he
brings to the house. He really hasnt stayed here at all.

Well, there are really great perks about staying at the house. Including Harrys hands and tongue
and dick. Its a pretty compelling argument.

---

It was enough of an argument to get Zayn to the Pi Sig party, at least. He shows up late enough
that he can feel the bass from outside, and pauses for a second outside the door. This is the fucking
Pi Sig house. What is he doing here? He can smell booze and brain cells dying from here.

But he said hed go, so he pulls open the door. Like every other frat party hes ever ended up at,
its loud and crowded and hot, and Zayns nose wrinkles instinctively as he pushes into the crowd.
Step one, drink; step two, find Harry. Step threehopefully get off.
He succeeds more or less in step one, pushing his way to the kitchen, where he grabs a can of
beer, because hes not nearly stupid enough to try the punch. Its shit beer, but itll do. Step two
proves to be harder, with the number of people there, but he does run across the beer pong table,
where as usual Niall is winning the tournament. Bressie, his usual partner and fellow undefeated
champion, isnt there, but Liams next to him and, from the amount of cheers, seems to be doing
well enough.

Zayn knows better than to distract them, but if Liams heresure enough, Sophias cheering him
from the sidelines, her grin wide and so fond as she watches Liams face light up as he sinks a
ball.

Hey. She turns to him, her face twisting a little in surprise. You seen Harry?

Hes around. Go Liam! she interrupts herself, then turns back to him. He got you to come? The
boys didnt think hed manage it.

Zayn shrugs. Hes persuasive.

I bet he is. She nods. I like your sweater.

Bit silly to wear to a party, Zayn admits. But it was cold out, and he looks good in the sweater.
And hes not going to cater tothis.

Sophia shakes her head. Nah, it looks good on you. It fits. Ive been meaning to talk to you, she
goes on. Zayns eyebrows go up. Hes talked with her a bit, because shes at the house a lot too,
but theyve never really had anything to talk about. Hes not sure what hed have in common with
a sorority girl. I wanted to thank you, for helping Liam out in class. Hes been doing a lot better,
and its justthanks.

Zayn blinks. Its surprisingly heartfelt. Or maybe not surprisingly, he doesnt know; its just sweet,
in the way Sophia and Liam often are. Yeah, of course.

I know he appreciates it, she goes on, thenLiam!

Liam grabs her waist to spin her around, ending with her tucked against his side. Hes clearly
drunk, his face flushed and his grin sloppy, but she still shrieks with laughter.

What do I appreciate? he asks, pressing his lips to her cheek. Is it you? I do appreciate you,
baby.

You better. She laughs, and turns to kiss him properly. Zayn rolls his eyes. Its almost
saccharine.

You okay? Liam asks, sobering a little when he separates from her. He hasnt

Nope, she replies, her hand sliding over his shoulders. Just been chatting with Zayn, here.

Zayn! Liams eyes fix on him. Woah, youre here!

Always so surprised.

Yeah, Niall won twenty bucks. I thought Harryd just find you after, Liam nods, earnest. But
youre here! Hey, have you met Paul?

Paul, who is apparently the guy walking past, pauses. Liam?

Hey! Liam lets go of Sophia to give him half a hug. This is Zayn. Pauls on the crew team with
me, he explains to Zayn, then to Paul, Zayns the reason Im not flunking off the team.

Then I like you, Paul agrees. Hes got a nice smile, and a nicer body, showcased by his tight
Alpha Rho t-shirt. And Zayns not blind enough to miss the flicker of interest in his gaze as he
looks at Zayn. Interesting. Wed be lost without Liam.

Youll like each other, Liam goes on, nodding enthusiastically. You both like Batman. Oh,
hey, look, Nialls starting another game! Sophia laughs as he drags her off, and Zayn shakes his
head at them as they go.

So. Paul gives a lopsided grin. Batman, huh?

Hes chill enough, Zayn guesses, as weird as it is to be talking Christopher Nolan when they have
to yell over the music, but hes also very wrong about the Superman movie, so Zayn starts to get
into it enough his beer can almost turns over. But nothing falls out. Huh, he must have drunk it.

Paul laughs, a high nervous sort of thing. Its the first sound hes made in a while, because maybe
Zayns been ranting a bit, because his opinions are very wrong and very uneducated. You need
another? he asks, nodding at the can. Not often hot boys can talk Batman to me.

Um. Zayn rubs at his earring. Hed seen the interest, but he doesnt want to be a jackass. And
Pauls not his type. No, thanks. Im good.

You sure? Paul takes a step forward, into Zayns space. Zayn takes a step back, but he matches
it. We could dance.

No, Zayn repeats, firm. No. Bye.

Where are you going? Paul asks, as Zayn twists around him to go find anyone else.

Somewhere where I wont be hit on, Zayn retorts. Hed tried to turn him down politely, so its
time to ditch the politeness. I thought Id at least be free of that here.

So what, you thought I just listened to that for kicks? Why the fuckd you come? Paul demands,
and Zayn opens his mouth to tell him he really didnt want tothen there are hands on his hips,
breath on his neck.

Hey, baby, Harry purrs. Fancy seeing you here.

Not your baby, Zayn retorts, but he cant help smiling, at the feel of Harry against him, his grip
tightening on Zayn. You knew I was coming.

I hoped. Harry presses a kiss to his cheek, then out of the corner of his eye Zayn can see him fix
a look at Paul. Hey, Smithwick. Whats up?

Not much, apparently. Paul raises his hands, palm up, but theres still a sneer as he glares at
Zayn. You could have just said you had a boyfriend, man.

Excuse me for expecting a no to mean no, Zayn spits back, and Harrys hands tighten on his
hip, like hes expecting to have to hold Zayn back from attacking. Which, if they werent
somewhere where Paul presumably has a lot of backup, Zayn might consider.

Whatever. Paul rolls his eyes, downs his beer, and turns to walk away. Zayn snorts.

Good to know its anyone they hit on who they dont take a no from, not just girls, I guess,
Zayn muses, then hes distracted by Harrys breath against his cheek, the feel of him against his
back.

Zayn pulls away a bit, just so he can turn around. Harry looks good. His hairs loose, and Zayn
forgets sometimes how long it is, how nicely it curls, when its not pulled back. Hes got those
tight jeans on again, and his shirt is open again, and he looks solid and climbable.

Harry smirks a little as Zayns gaze travels over him. So, is that a no to me, too?

Shut up. Zayn rolls his eyes. Im here, what am I supposed to do now?

Have I ever told you how much I like these jeans? Harry asks, ignoring Zayns reply. He hooks
his fingers into the highest rip on Zayns thighs, his fingers brushing the skin there. Zayn shivers,
despite the heat. Such a fucking tease.

I thought being a tease was a bad thing, Zayn replies, and Harrys dimples flash.

Only if there isnt payoff. His hands slide up to Zayns belt loops, tug him closer. Lets dance.

No. Zayn shakes his head, and he doesnt pull away, because he doesnt want to be farther from
Harry, but he is firm about it. No, I dont dance.

Why not? Harrys lips press together in a ridiculous pout.

I cant dance, Zayn amends. Harry chuckles, shakes his head.

No one who fucks like you cant dance.

Thatsit doesnt work like that, Zayn insists. I look like an idiot when I dance.

So do I, thats not the point. Harrys hands are on his lower back now, spreading wide under the
sweater. I dont care if we look like idiots, I want to dance with you.

He grins, hopeful, and Zayn lets out a breath. Hows he supposed to say no to that?

Fine, he mutters, and Harrys grin only deepens.

The music is the sort of bass-heavy hiphop that always plays at places like this, loud enough that
the bass is really all that matters. Zayn almost backs out twice before Harry finally starts moving
his hips to the beat, but hes not going to just not do it because hes afraid. And thenand then he
forgets about looking like an idiot. About anything but Harrys body against his, their hips moving
together, Harrys hands on him, Harrys back under his hands.

Harry dances like he fucks, sure and teasing, something playful in it. Zayn just tries to match him,
tries to seem like he knows what hes doing and hes not getting turned on, until he tilts his head
back and Harrys lips are there and he doesnt give a fuck about being that person with the dance
floor makeouts, he presses his lips to Harrys. Harry tastes like beer and the cherry gum he likes,
like Harry, and he kisses back to the beat, until Zayn can feel it in every inch of him. Then his lips
are leaving Zayns, trailing down his neck, and he finds a spot he must like because he latches on,
biting then sucking until Zayns head falls back and his breaths gone too fast. They dont do this,
they havent, the marking thing, there wasnt a place for it, but he doesnt have objections, he just
needs

Stop, He says, pushing at Harrys head. Harry blinks, slow and dazed, almost. His lips look
swollen already, and Zayn wants to bite them, wants to feel them on him.
Was that not he starts, but Zayn cuts him off, sliding his hands into the back pockets of
Harrys jeans so theyre pressed so close together he knows Harry can feel his semi, how much he
wants him.

We need a room, now, Zayn murmurs, into his ear, and he can feel Harrys body go rigid with
that.

Fuck, yeah, Harry breathes, and then Zayn doesnt know whos being pulled, as they hurry out
of the house.

One of the advantages to the Greek system, Zayn has to admit, is that Harrys house is only a few
houses away, and so they manage to make it to the hallway before Zayn gives up and grabs
Harry, kissing him hard, like he wanted to on the dance floor. Harry moans into his mouth,
stumbles back against the wall, pulling him closer and closer until theres nothing to it but to climb
him like Zayn always wants to, pulling himself up so Harry has to hold him there, and isnt that a
turn on too, that Harry can just hold him up so Zayn can focus on his hands in Harrys hair, their
lips together.

Bedroom, come on, he says into Harrys neck, as he explores the skin there, and Harry groans
and obeys. Zayn assumes they get through the hallway, but he just knows the doors slammed
behind them and Harrys pressing him against the wall, their hips grinding together. Harry finds
the same place hed been biting before, sucks hard, and its going to bruise and Zayn doesnt care,
just wants more of him.

Somehow, he gets a hand between them, cupping Harry through his jeans before he fumbles with
the button, and Harrys arms falter, so Zayn slides down.

Fuck Zayn, Harry breathes, Be careful, Im gonna drop you.

Fine. Zayn huffs out a breath, and lets his legs fall to the floor. But one day youre holding me
there as you fuck me.

Hell yeah, Harry agrees, breathlessly, and Zayn grins and pushes at him until theyre on the bed.

He doesnt know how they lose their clothes, but they do, and then his backs on the mattress as
Harry closes his lips around him and Zayn moans, because Harrys so fucking good with his
mouth, and he doesnt even notice any pain as Harry opens him up too, just the pleasure of it, until
hes grinding down onto Harrys fingers and trying not to fuck into his mouth and, Please, Harry,
just fuck me already, want you

Harry pulls off, licking his lips, and theres the smug again but Zayn doesnt care, he deserves it.
Youre pretty when youre begging for me, he tells Zayn, like he always does, and Zayn would
rolls his eyes if he didnt really want Harrys cock in him.

Hurry the fuck up, he retorts, and Harry laughs.

Its too much, and not enough, and Zayn shoves at Harry until hes on his back and Zayns over
him, can look at Harry all gorgeous muscles and swollen lips and hot eyes, and his hands closing
over Zayns hips as he lowers himself onto Harrys dick, and even after these months Harrys still
so mouthwateringly big. And he waits, patient, mouthing at Zayns chest, his jaw, until Zayn starts
to move, rocking his hips, then starting to rise and fall on Harry, Harrys hands tight like theyre
going to bruise.

Harry fucks up into Zayn like hed danced, slow and confident and sure, pulling Zayn down to
kiss him, matching their rhythms.

Please, Harry, come on, Im close, harder, fuck, Zayns a mess of words and pleas and he feels
spread open, bared, as Harry moves in him and he doesnt even care, he just wants Harry closer,
wants everything. He thinks his legs are going to give out, but not yet, cant be yetHarry shifts,
and then hes hitting Zayns prostate and Zayn might whine, hes too far gone to deny it. He shifts
his balance, relying more on Harry to keep him steady, so he can wrap a hand around his own
cock, give himself some relief.

God, youre beautiful, Harry grunts out, somehow in awe, and Zayn tightens his grip on his
cock just enough to make him shudder, so close. Come for me, baby, come on, want to see you

The orgasm crashes over him, somehow almost a surprise, and everything in him tightens and
relaxes as it does. Harry keeps fucking him through it, as eking out the last of the pleasure, then
theyre rolling and Harrys over him again, fucking into him hard and fast as he chases his own
orgasm.

Zayn drags his fingers down Harrys back as he sags back into the bed, reveling in the
endorphins. Come on, baby, He murmurs, because he might be an asshole, Come for me,
babe, want to feel you, and then Harry groans something that he thinks is his name and comes,
his cock throbbing in Zayn.

Harry collapses on Zayn, burying his face in his neck, and Zayn strokes Harrys hair, gently
detangling the curls, until Harrys breathing steadies out.

Zayn doesnt know how long they lie there, until Harry lifts his head. Hes grinning, his eyes
somehow both mischievous and sleepy with contentment. Hey.

Hey. Zayn tugs on Harrys hair, just enough to be felt. You gonna let me breathe?

Maaaaybe, Harry drawls, but hes careful as he pulls out, discards the condom, gets some sort of
rag to clean off Zayns stomach. Zayn lounges in the bed as he does, watching him, because its a
very pretty sight. Then Harry flops back down next to him.

Happy I got you to the party? Harry asks, self-satisfied.

Zayn rolls his eyes. We could have skipped the party and come here.

I liked the dancing.

Yeah, well, I was serious about fucking me against the wall. Harrys eyes go dark.

Give me ten minutes.

Zayn snorts, and shoves at Harrys head. Harry lets it fall back onto the pillow, laughing, and
Zayn shoves at him again, but hes laughing too. Its just so easy to laugh, with Harry. To not care
what he looks like, naked in bed and racked with giggles.

Harry stops laughing first, and he props himself up on one arm so he can grin at Zayn. His grins
fades a little, and Zayns making a confused face when he trails his hand down just enough to
press on the bruise Zayn knows is forming on his neck.

Thats gonna be a sight, isnt it? Zayn asks. Hes almost dreading looking at it. He wonders
about the chances of anyone here having a scarf to cover it with.
Yeah. Harrys face is doing some complicated thing, but its not entirely regretful, Zayn can tell.
Sorry.

No you arent.

No Im not, Harry agrees. His face does that thing again. What were you and Smithwick
talking about?

Smithwick? Its hard to remember anything that happened more than ten minutes ago, but Zayn
vaguely remembers. You mean Paul, that crew kid? Harry shrugs, and looks down at Zayns
chest, where he can trace the lips there.

You just. Looked friendly.

Are you jealous? Zayn asks, and he has to laugh. Harrys cheeks are a little red, and it makes
him feel better, somehow. That Harry can blush. Oh, babe.

Not jealous. Harry still isnt looking at him. Justhes hot. Hes an asshole, but you think we
all are, and

I didnt. Zayn puts a hand under Harrys chin, tilts it up so he has to look at Zayn. Harry, I
havent, for, like, months. Not with anyone else.

Harrys smile is almost blinding, despite the sheepishness in it. Me neither.

Good. It comes out as a hiss, and Zayn hadnt known it would, but the thought of Harry with
anyone elseof anyone else touching him, of him touching anyonemakes his fists clench and
his eyes narrow.

Are you jealous? Harry laughs, and flicks at his nose.

No, Zayn mutters. But if you do, and you dont tell me

Harry sobers. I wont if you wont.

Yeah. Zayns the one not meeting Harrys eyes now. Yeah, I wont.

Good. Harry presses his lips to the ones on Zayns chest. Now, give me those ten minutes.
Then I think you had some fantasies you wanted to explore?

Im gonna fall asleep, I dont know what youre talking about, Zayn tells him, and pokes at
Harrys dimples as Harry curls up next to him.

----

Its barely ten when Zayn gets back to his apartment. He blames Harry entirely for getting him up
that early on a Sunday, because he has his weird thing about getting up early for a run, and though
that never wakes Zayn up, he also has his thing for using all the endorphins or whatever from said
run by coaxing Zayn awake with his mouth on his dick, which, Zayn admits, is not the worst way
to wake up of a morning.

But it does mean that hes seeing this side of noon for the first time in what feels like years. Its not
exactly a habit he wants to continuewhat hed wanted to do is go back to sleep after hed
returned the favor, kissing Harry sleepily as he jerked him off, tasting the sweat on his skin. But
there were initiation things to do, it seemed, and Zayn wasnt allowed to be privy to that. Not that
he wanted to be. But it meant he was back here for the day.
He doesnt expect anyone to be there, when he walks in. With any luck Jawaads still at Marias
place, or theyre asleep here. But the first thing Zayn sees when he comes in is Jawaads back,
hunched over the sink.

Hey, didnt expect to see you. Zayn closes the door, kicks off his boots. No luck last night?

Didnt expect to see you, Jawaad retorts. His voice sounds a little clogged. Maybe hes sick.
Didnt know you knew mornings existed.

I try not to, Zayn agrees, and wanders into the kitchen. Coffee sounds good. Liam had made
some in the morning, but he could do for more. But Harry was up early, got me up.

Bet he did. He says it jokingly, but Jawaads still not looking at him, and theres something
weird to the set of his shoulders. It reminds Zayn of when Jawaad was ten and his sister picked on
him, or when he was thirteen and his dog died.

Are you okay?

Yeah, m fine. When Zayn leans over the sink, Jawaad turns away, towards the fridge. If hes
trying not to make Zayn suspicious, hes failing. And Zayns good mood is rapidly spiraling. Are
you actually staying awake? You dont want to go back to bed?

I want you to tell me why you arent looking at me, Zayn snaps. You didnt get a stupid tattoo,
did you? Ifucking hell, he swears, as Jawaad turns around.

His face is a mottled pattern of purples and yellows and greens, his left eye clearly blackened, a
checkerboard of scrapes across his collarbone. His nose was clearly bleeding, and probably started
again recentlythe sink, Zayn thinks, in the part of him that isnt red-hot rage. Thats why he was
there.

He moves forward without thinking, getting closer to examine it. Its not as bad as it looks,
Jawaad tries, but Zayn shakes his head. Hes been in enough fights to know just how bad it is.
And to know what it looks like when you were in a fight, and outmatched.

Who did this? he hisses out. What happened?

Zayn, Im okay, Jawaad lets out a weak chuckle. Youve got your own bruises to worry about,
it looks like. He nods at Zayns neck. Zayn ignores him.

What happened? He repeats. This isnt just a fight, and theres barely anything on Jawaads
knuckles, even though he knows his cousin wouldnt just put up with this. This was a beating.
Actually, no. Go sit on the couch. Im getting you ice, then youre going to tell me exactly what
happened.

Youre not my mum, I dont need

Ice, Zayn snaps, and Jawaad goes. Zayn grabs some frozen peas he has no idea why they even
have from the freezer, wraps them in a dish towel. His hands are shaking, he notices idly.

He hands the ice pack to Jawaad in the living room, then sits on the coffee table facing him, so he
can properly supervise him putting the ice on his eye. There arent any other bruises Zayn can see
around his jeans and loose t-shirt, but that doesnt mean there arent any. Ribs, Zayn bets. They
always go for the ribs.

Talk.
Jawaad sighs. Its not

Talk.

Fine. Jawaad rolls his one eye. It turns out her ex doesnt like me much.

What?

Maria? Her ex has some problems, I guess. With me. And them being over. Jawaad looks
down, his voice blank. She wanted to go to this party last night, she has friends there, so we went
after dinner. It was going well, I thought? She seemed to like me, and we were dancing, and all
that shit. Then, well. Some of the brothers saw. And I guess he didnt think it was as over as she
did.

Brothers? Zayns stomach flips, but of course. Of fucking course it was them, all those people
who hed fought in middle school, in high school, before he got wise to it and learned to use
words instead.

Yeah, you know. Frat. They were at the party she wanted to go to.

Bitch, Zayn spits. And keep that ice on it.

No, sheshe tried to stop them, she didnt think this would happen. Jawaad shakes his head.
Zayn huffs out a breath, and gets up to go find the aspirin. Hes going to kill someone. Thats the
only answer. Hes not sure if its going to be Maria, for putting Jawaad in this position, or Jawaad,
for being stupid enough to let her, or the frat bros, for doing it, or himself, for letting it happen, but
someone.

Here. He hands the aspirin bottle and a glass of water to Jawaad. Where were you? Could we
report them?

Doubt it. We were at the Pi Sig house, at the party.

Zayns fingers clench into fists. They were at the party. Hed been there. Hed been there, and this
had been happening, and where the fuck had he been?

When? he forces out from between his teeth.

I dont know, late? I was drunk, they got me out back. Jawaad shakes his head. I didnt want
you to see, you dont have to do anything

Fuck that. Zayns on his feet before he can think, starting to pace. Hed been there. Hed been
there, but hed left to go fuck around with Harry, and some stupid fucking assholes had thought it
was okay to beat up his cousin because of their stupid fucking entitled privilege. I have to

Just let it be, okay? Jawaad sighs again, and lowers the ice pack. His eyes a sunrise. Zayn
hisses again, in sympathy and anger. Hes not supposed to look like that. Zayns supposed to stop
him from looking like that, supposed to stand between him and any danger that will hurt him.
You cant do anything against them. Theres like, twenty guys in the Pi Sigs, and theyre all
massive.

They cant just do this, Zayn tells him, tells the world. They cant just get away with this
because theyre rich and big and have the numbers, because they think its okay to. I wont

Zayn, dont. He raises the ice again. Help me clean up, okay? Marias coming over later, I
want it to be nice.
Shes coming over? Fuck her, shes the reason this happened.

Yeah. Jawaad smiles, and its odd on his bruised, beaten face, but its proud and shy all at once.
She feels responsible, so she wanted to come over and, well. Kiss my wounds.

Of course. Zayn rolls his eyes, but he gets up. His fists are still clenched. At least she feels
responsible.

Its not her fault, Jawaad says again, insistent enough Zayn considers believing him. She said
he was sweet before he started really getting into the whole Pi Sig mentality, and then she broke
up with him. Theyre not together. She didnt know he would still think he had a claim on her or
anything.

What did she think, hed not be a Neanderthal? Zayn mutters, but he takes a deep breath, pushes
all that rage down, like hed learned to, when his dad finally sat him down and told him the fights
had to stop, or he wasnt going to get into a good college. There isnt anything he can do about it,
not now, other than go back in time and tell himself there were more important things than getting
off. He can at least make up for it. Make sure Maria knows just how badly she fucked up. Tip
your head back. Your nose is bleeding.

Jawaad obeys, making a face. Is this what it was like to be you?

Hm?

When you got in all those fights, in grade school. This what it felt like?

Zayn looks at him, at his bruised little cousin. He should be bruised like that, instead of Jawaad.

Guess so, he says, and tries out a grin. It doesnt sit right on his face.

---

Hey, you okay?

Zayn shuts his computer before he looks at Harry. He hadnt known Harry knew that there were
Monday lectures, but hed shown up only five minutes late, slipping into the seat next to Zayn
with a proud grin like he was amazed at himself too that he was there. It was cute, and Zayn
couldnt say he really objected when hed done a not very subtle reach so that his arm was on the
back of Zayns chair, but Zayn admittedly hadnt been paying much attention. To him, or the
lecture, really.

Im fine. He is. He just spent a good part of the last twenty-four hours watching Maria coo over
Jawaads woundsbecause she did seem, he could begrudgingly acknowledge, very contrite and
very into Jawaad. And then not even Claire had thought he should do anything about it, had told
him that retaliation wasnt the answer, and he should just report it and be done. But Jawaads
bruises were fading into a sickly green, and Zayn justhe couldnt do that. Couldnt just report it,
when they all knew nothing would happen.

Youve been fidgeting all class. Harry offers him a hand out of his seat, which Zayn rolls his
eyes at but takes, then keeps a hold of it, not letting Zayn go back to drumming against his leg as
they leave the room. Did something happen?

Its fine, Zayn repeats. Hes fine. Its not Harrys business.

Okay. Harry gives him a look that clearly says he doesnt believe him, but he lets it go. He nods
to some guy coming up the stairs in an Alpha Rho shirt, who grunts back. Its so Neanderthalish.
Of course they would be, Neanderthals who grunt and hit and fucking hell hes going to kill them
all. So, you cant come over tonight eitherwe have another Rush ceremony.

Is this the one where you have the orgy?

I dont have orgies without you, promise, Harry grins at him, waggles his eyebrows until Zayn
snorts and rolls his eyes, then pushes the door open to the cloudy grey day outside. A good
metaphor for his mood, Zayn thinks, very pathetic fallacy. No, theywell I cant tell you what
they do, but its not like the movies. No hospitalizations for five years!

He sounds proud of that fact. Like its something out of the ordinary. Zayn huffs out a breath,
shaking his head. Thatswhat?

Harrys face is suddenly hard, the easy smile dying as his eyes narrow, looking across Zayn at
something. One second, he mutters, and pulls out his phone.

Zayn follows his gaze. Sophias sitting on a bench, looking as picture perfect as always, her
sunglasses covering most of her face. Theres a guy standing in front of her, some weedy East
Asian kid leaning forward like hes asking something.

What are you doing?

Texting Liam. He needs to know about this. Harrys hands close around his phone. Hes still
glaring in that direction. Glaring. Like its a federal crime. I should do something.

About what, that shes talking to a boy? How dare she! Zayn yanks his hand away from Harry
to throw it into the air. Because its not like anyone can talk to another guy, right?

Zayn, I Harry shakes his head. Stay here.

What? No fucking way, Zayn retorts, but Harrys jogging across the quad until he can come up
behind the kid. Hes almost a full head taller than him, and probably weighs twice as much, and
he looms, theres no other word for it, his hand probably heavy on the kids shoulder. Zayn cant
hear what hes saying, but he knows that body language. Hes had that body language used on
him, when someone bigger than you is looming over you and your fight or flight reflex is going,
when you didnt do anything other than existor talk to some girl that he probably had a good
reason to talk toand suddenly youre attacked for it. Zayns fists clench. Thats probably what
Jawaad looked like Saturday night, surrounded by the Pi Sig brothers, and with just as little
reason. Because they can, because he can, because he thinks he owns her, even though hes not
even her fucking boyfriend.

Harry says something, and the boy glares back, but he shakes off Harrys hand and stalks away.
Sophia doesnt even object, just says something to Harry, but maybe shes used to being
objectified like that, but fuck that. Fuck everything. Fuck Harry, for being one of them.

Zayn turns on his heel to stalk away too. He cant be here. He doesnt know why hes here, even.
Why hes waiting like hes one of them too.

Zayn! Harry calls, and hes got longer legs so of course he catches up to Zayn before hes
away. Before he can get away. Where are you going?

Away. Zayn spits, and keeps walking. Hed thoughtbut hed been an idiot. He hadnt
thought. Hed been fucking seduced by nice arms and a dimpling smile and good sex and hed
forgotten just what Harry was.

Okay, where away? Harry asks, and falls into step with him. I think I want froyo.
Hes so casual about it. Of course he is. Because that kid probably didnt mean anything, and
Zayn cant

What the fuck was that? he demands, stopping so he can stare Harry down.

What?

So you just go threaten some kid for talking to Liams girlfriend? Zayn snaps. He doesnt know
why he expected anything different, but he justfucking hell. For talking to her? What, is that
only a threat offense? If hed dared bump into her thats what, a punch to the ribs? Because
heaven forbid she have male friends.

Zayn, Harry starts, but Zayns not stopping. He doesnt get to explain. He doesnt get to spew
some garbage about how he was helping, or look hurt, like hes the victim here. He doesnt know
what it means to be the victim.

Youre all the same, arent you? You might as well have beat up Jawaad yourself.

What? Zayn, did something

He probably knows already. Theres probably some sort of email blast, if theyve figured out that
technology, of all the kids they put in hospitals. Maybe along with all the girls theyve fucked.

Fuck you, Zayn spits. He cant be here. He cant be near Harry, or hes going to punch him,
and who knows what would happen then. Its Harrys fault. Its the fault of people like Harry, and
Zayns been fucking him, been forgetting that hes everything wrong with the world. Fuck you
and all you musclebound closed-minded privileged imbeciles who never even think about anyone
else.

Harrys opening his mouth, but Zayn spins on his heel and stalks away. He cant believe he ever
thought it was okay to sleep with someone like that. That he might be okay. Of course Harrys just
like the rest of them, a frat bros a frat bro no matter his spots or how well he uses his dick.

Zayn slams the door to his apartment shut when he gets home, but no ones there to hear,
apparently. So he throws himself onto his bed and grabs his computer. He doesnt need this shit.
Hell think about Pynchon. Thats worth his time. Harry wasnt.

---

Jawaad doesnt come home that night, but he texts Zayn that hes at Marias, so instead of
worrying Zayn spends his time playing some World of Warcraft and killing orcs. Its a good way
to do what he wants to but cant, which is to go burn down the frat houses. He skips lecture the
next day, spends it in the library. Hes more productive than he has been in weeks, which just
goes to show hes right. He was just distracted by a hot body, it happens to everyone.

He shows up at the meeting for the magazine in a foul mood still despite that productivity. Hes
tense. Hes tense and angry and he just grunts when Claire says hi to him as he comes into the
seminar room and throws himself into his seat.

She raises her eyebrow, but doesnt say anything.

Now that were all here, she says instead, addressing the table, Why dont we start the
meeting?

They go around discussing ideas for the magazine, what they have, what they will. Its pointlessly
early, given it wont be out until January, but Zayn just sits there listening anyway. Its somewhere
to be, at least.

So, for a theme. Claire looks around. Any ideas?

Winter? comes a voice from down the table, one of the sophomores, Zayn thinks.

Zayn snorts. Original.

Claire gives him a warning look. Thats been done before, she points out, though. Anyone
else? Lets think outside the box.

What about something for the holidays? Ian, a junior who thinks hes far smarter than he is,
suggests. Not Christmas spirit or anything, but, like, the future? Resolutions? Choices?

No ones ever written about choices before, Zayn mutters. Claire kicks him. Zayn probably
deserved it, so he doesnt kick back. But hes not wrong.

I like that sort of idea, Claire agrees. Maybe something a little more specific, that Zayn can do
something for the cover for? I dont know what choices would be but all I can think of is a Venn
diagram.

Some freshman with a bowl cut and a Rolling Stones t-shirt mumbles something. What? Claire
asks.

The freshman shoots Zayn a look thats halfway to terrified, but he speaks up. Time?

Zayn rolls his eyes and sinks down into his chair. He was wrong. This wasnt better. Hes not
helping anyone being here. He should just go. If only he didnt know Claire would kick his ass for
bailing.

An hour later, they dont havent finalized everything, but there are some halfway decent ideas
Zayn can play with and see if he can do anything with by next meeting. Its better than some
meetings, which have devolved into arguments about the line between poetry and prose and how
much they can mess with layout of a given story.

Zayn waits until all the rest of the students are gone before, Well that was a useful meeting, he
drawls.

What is up with you? Claire asks, instead of responding. Are we keeping you from something?
Do you want to go fuck youroh, she cuts herself off, probably reacting to Zayns scowl. Did
something go wrong?

Zayn pushes to his feet so he can pace, stare out the window onto the quad. I realized you were
right, he mutters. Its not an easy thing to say, not even to Claire, not even admitting something
he should have known from the beginning. A bros a bro. And theyre all the same.

They are, Claire agrees.

Right? Zayn whirls to point a finger at her. Shes the first person whos agreed with him, but
then, shes always hated that type as much as him. More, probablyhe had been able to fight
back, in a way she hadnt. Hed had his family, shed had hers, who were the worst of all of them.
I dont know why I didnt see it.

Because you were blinded by his dick, Claire retorts. Zayn snorts.
Still. He might not have beaten up Jawaad, but he might as well have.

Thats not fair. Marta presses a kiss to Claires cheek in greeting before sitting in her lap,
kicking up her feet so her striped purple and red knee socks show. He didnt, right?

No, but he looked like he was about to punch this kid who was talking to Liams girlfriend.
Zayn huffs. Its the mold. You cant break it. He chose to be in a frat, didnt he?

Yeah, Marta allows. But he chose you too.

Because Im pretty and he likes to fuck me. Zayn dismisses it with a wave. He knew exactly
why Harryd come after him, because frat bros think pretty people are theirs for the taking and
dont take no for an answer. Its not he shakes his head. Hes not even angry about Harry,
really. He is, but he should have known better, shouldnt have ever gotten comfortable there,
among those boys. Shouldnt have started looking for exceptions rather than at the rule. I need to
do something.

Im sure we can find someone else for you to fuck, Claire says, laughing. Im certain Ian
would jump at the chance.

Not about that.

Are you sure? You werent this high strung when you were getting laid.

About the Pi Sigs. They canttheyre just getting away with it, Zayns fingers are drumming
against his leg, and he circles the table, pacing. Jawaad wont report it and it wouldnt matter if
he did. I need to do something. I need to make them pay.

Zayn, we talked about this, Marta replies, her voice sweet and calming, like his mums was
when hed come home from high school buzzing with the need to retaliate. Thats not the way.
Weve got all sorts of campaigns to reign them in

And by the time those take effect the ones who did it will have graduated! Zayn bites out.

And what else can you do? Claire asks, shrugging. I know its infuriating, but its the fact. And
Maria broke up with him anyway. Theres nothing else you can do.

Fuck that. Zayn turns his back on the girls again, stares out the window. Its dark out by now,
though he can still see people walking across the quad. Its not enough.

---

Its hard to sleep. Its embarrassing, because Zayn can sleep anywhere, but he hasnt slept in his
own bed for weeks, really, and hes not used to it. Harry might have been infuriating, but he was
warm, and hed been a body in the bed, and it was much nicer to fall asleep to the regular white
noise of Harrys snores than to the angry impotence circling in Zayns brain. Like it was much
nicer to wake up to Harrys smile, or a lazy morning blow job, than to Zayns alarm.

Not that it matters, Zayn tells himself, as he rolls out of bed. He might have been a good fuck, and
had a great smile, and hed made Zayn laugh, but hed been an asshole underneath.

He pulls on a t-shirt, grabs the closest pair of sweats he can findthen drops them. Theyre
Harrys. He knows they are, because theyd felt too big, and he only owns maybe one pair of
pajama pants, andno.

He swaps them out for the closest pair of jeans, then stumbles out into the kitchen.
Coffee?

Make some yourself, Jawaad retorts. The bruises have gone down on his face.

Zayn grunts, and heads to the coffee machine. It was so much easier when coffee was already
made when he got downstairs, or when Harry grabbed him some on his way up. Not that that
matters.

Jawaad doesnt say anything when he finishes his first cup, just eats his cereal in silence. Zayn
gets up to pour himself another mugful, because he did not get enough sleep for just one mugful,
then grabs some leftover pizza from the fridge to eat because itll take the least effort before he sits
down again.

More rush things? Jawaad asks, when Zayns settled again.

Zayn raises his eyebrows. What?

I didnt expect you home again, Jawaad shrugs, taking a casual bite of his cereal. Is Harry busy
with more rush things?

Zayn can feel his eyebrow furrowing, glaring at his coffee. No.

Are you managing to not get laid for a night? Amazing, Jawaad snorts. Youre lucky I didnt
bring Maria home.

Yeah, lucky. Zayn drinks his coffee faster, but he really doesnt want to think about having to
hear that. So dont do that tonight either, Ill be here too. Or at least warn me, Ill put in
headphones.

Tonight too? Harry really must be busy.

Zayn scowls again. He wishes people would just let it go. No. Thats just done.

Done? Jawaad repeats, and he finally puts his cereal bowl down. His eyes are wide. Why?
When? Really?

Monday. Because hes a fratboy asshole, and I dont need people like that around. Clearly. He
nods at Jawaad. Hell get what he means, about his face.

Fuck that. Jawaads voice is tight enough that Zayn looks up, confused. Jawaad had never even
liked Harry, why was he mad? You dont need to break up with your boyfriend because of me.

He wasnt my boyfriend, and it wasnt a break up. At least Zaynd had that much sense, to not
say the words. Almostitd been there, that last day, on the tip of his tongue, buthe hadnt.
Hed held it back. Thankfully. And I can do what I want.

Well you dont have to. Jawaad sets his jaw, the same stubborn expression they share. You
dont have to fight my battles for me, Zayn. And this wont do anything.

Zayn shoves his chair back as he gets to his feet. How dare he. Like he knows fuck all about
fighting battles. I stopped things between us because hes just as bad as the rest of them, not
because of you, he snaps. And yes, I do. Youre my cousin, and Im going to protect you
whether you want it or not.

I dont need you to! Jawaad yells back, and hes on his feet too. Hes taller than Zayn, like
everyone is, and Zayn doesnt give a fuck. Im an adult, and I dont need you doing all this shit
for me. I can do it myself.

Then act like it. Zayn slams the mug down onto the table, and Jawaad jumps. Dont take
fucking months to make a move on a girl because youre afraid. Dont lie back and take it when
people beat you up. You have no idea how much Ive taken the burdens off of you, so learn how
to deal with this one.

By fighting? Because that worked so well for you. Jawaad spits back

By doing something! Zayn throws up his hands. Report them, do something. Otherwise,
theyll think its okay, and theyll do it again. Zayns fingers are digging into his palms, his fists
clenched. If you dont want me to fight your battles for you, fight your own goddamn battles.
He turns his back on Jawaad. He needs to get out of here.

He makes it to the door before he has something to add. And maybe next time your cousin
breaks up with someone, try not making it about you, he throws over his shoulder, and then he
gets to his room and slams the door.

Fuck him. Zayn grabs the first sweatshirt that comes to hand, pulls it on over his jeans. He thinks
hes an adultand maybe he isbut he has no idea how many battles he didnt fight because
Zayn fought them first. How many doors Zayn fought tooth and nail to open so he could walk
through them. He thinks its so fucking easy, that he can just exist without fighting.

Hes halfway to Greek Row before he realizes where his feet are taking him, and he stops in his
tracks. Its habit, he tells himself, stalking towards the library. Just habit, that he wants to head
there and have Harry coax him out of his anger with slow smiles and bad jokes and logic. He
doesnt need that. A library can do just as well.

---

Zayns calmed down a bit, by that evening. His Intersectionality in Modern Lit seminar is
engaging enough that he can get out of his head, and then Dostoyevskys immersive enough that it
takes all his brain power just to participate in that seminar, and together theyre as good as that
meditation shit Harry does sometimes, not that Zayn would know. Its enough he can grab a quick
dinner to eat in the caf outside the library, pounding out a couple hundred words of his thesis. Its
almost done. Its weird, knowing that.

He shuts his computer and puts his books into his backpack before getting up, rolling his neck to
get out the kinks from hunching over his computer for too long. Hell have to go home sometime,
maybe stay in his room until hes calm enough to deal with Jawaad. The fresh airs cold, cold
enough he regrets not wearing a jacket, and he pulls his hoodie down farther so it can cover his
hands.

Hes just sliding in headphones, a block away from the quad, when he sees a flash of blonde hair.
Marias leaning against a wall, some guy in a Pi Sig baseball hat and hoodie looming over her,
like Harry had before. There are other Pi Sigs around, waiting for him or maybe egging him on,
but Zayn doesnt give a fuck, when he hears the,

You need a real man, baby. You know that. Someone who can take care of you.

Chip, shove off, Maria retorts. Were done. I dont know how else I can get it through your
head.

Zayn speeds up, so he can get there faster.

I know youre having a little sulk, playing hard to get, Chip, apparently, agrees, his voice
placating. But baby, we both know youll come back to me. Youre too pretty for a burka, or
whatever that fags going to do.

How is he a fag and a threat to you? Zayn asks as he trots up, cutting in. She turns to him, her
eyes widening when she recognizes him. Did you really think that one through?

And who are you? Chip asks. Youre not her little boytoy, hed still have a lot more decoration
on his face. Zayns fists clench as the other guys laugh. He can hear more feet behind him too.
Hes ridiculously outnumbered, he knows that. Knows he should disengage, before he gets beaten
up too. Be smart about it. Are you helping him with his jihad? Chip adds, laughing like its the
most amusing joke in the world. Gonna set a bomb in my car?

Its funny, Zayn thinks. That he hasnt forgotten what it feels like to throw a punch. That Chips
face feels exactly the same as all the other bullying Islamaphobic fuckers in high school, as his fist
hits his cheek.

Fuck! Chip yells, stumbling back, cradling his cheek. What the fuckdid you really just
punch me? he demands. The other Pi Sig boys are closer, and Zayn steps so Marias behind him.
She doesnt need to get any flack for this. You cant just punch me!

Looks like I just did, Zayn retorts. He brings his fists up. Hes going to get so fucked over and
he doesnt even care, hes doing something. Maybe itll bruise Chip enough hell think twice next
time he beats up some kid who wont fight back. What are you going to do about it? Is it going to
take all of you to beat just me up too?

Come on, Chip spits, gesturing, and Zayn dodges Chips first punch. But he hasnt fought in
ages, and even when he did it was only viciousness and need and the ability to take enough
punches that kept him standing, so the next one gets a glancing blow to his shoulder, and he
stumbles back. The other Pi Sig boys are looming over him, pinning him in, and Chips laughing
as he stands over him. Thought you could just laugh at me? Youre just like that other Arab kid,
thinking he can take whats mine

And what is that? Comes a rumbling voice, at Zayns back. Zayn scrambles backwards, trying
to avoid that toobut he hits a broad chest, and big hands set him back on his feet, and he looks
back over his head to see Bressie standing there, his placid face implacable. What exactly are you
claiming as yours this time, Diller?

Theyre all therenot just Bressie towering over him, but Liam and Louis and Niall, and some of
the other boysnot Harry, but others. Zayn blinks. What are they doing here?

None of your business, Breslin, Chip spits. Stay out of it.

Nah, see, I think it is, Louis spits back, then turns his back on Chip, looking at Zayn. So, Zayn
what do you want?

What?

We heard what happened, with your cousin. Niall says. Zayns never seen him look less jovial.
So, what do you want? Make sure its a fair fight? All of us on him? Big brawl?

We have a menu, Louis adds, in a drawl, and Zayns still just blinking at them. Theyhe broke
up with Harry, theyre frat bros, they should be on the Pi Sigs side, and theyre still here, theyre
defending him. On his side. Not telling him hes stupid, for wanting to do this, to do something,
just

Whatever you want, were here, Liam says, and theres a smile on his lips as he looks at Zayn.
Zayn blinks, one more time, then turns to Chip and the Pi Sigs. Theyre still glaring, and Zayn can
see the bruise forming on his cheek. Itll feel good, to see that. But everything elsehe knows
better, he does. He knows that throwing a punch wont help, and getting into a brawl doesnt
solve anything. He does, when hes actually thinking.

Nah, its fine. He puts on his most condescending drawl. I think hes learned his lesson, yeah?

He better have, Bressie rumbles, and Chip swears.

Ive learned that you Delta Chis are fucking pussies! Chip retorts. Come on, guys. Bitch
doesnt mean anything anyway.

Right, Maria. Zayn glances around, as the Pi Sig brothers trot away, but he doesnt see her.

She got gone about when we came up, Niall tells him, Was that your cousins girlfriend? She
was cute.

Yeah, Zayn answers vaguely. But now that the Pi Sig brothers are gone, theres just themjust
these boys, who had no reason to defend him but did. You guyswhy did you do that?

Louis throws an arm over his shoulder. Youre one of us, arent you? he says, easy. Thats
what we do. We back your play.

Even if its stupid, Liam adds, sternly, like he is when he lectures the pledges. What were you
planning to do, fight all of them? I know youre scrappy

And that was a good punch, Bressie puts in.

And that was a good punch, Liam admits, crossing his arms over his chest, But what would
you have done if we hadnt been here?

Zayn shrugs. Hes still not entirely sure whats happening. Gotten beat up, probably. But Id
have gotten some punches in.

Knew I liked you. Louis uses his other hand to cuff the back of Zayns head, apparently
affectionately. Anyway, we were just on our way to see you.

To see me? Zayn takes in the full contingentand Harrys absence. Coming to see him. They
backed his play, but he and Harry were over. Were you going to beat me up?

Of course not. We want you to take Harry back.

Zayns eyebrows fly up. Take him back?

Yeah, Niall agrees. Hes been miserable, since you guys broke up. I dont know what he did,
but whatever it is, can you just forgive him?

Did he ask you to come? Zayn demands. Thats just fucking underhanded. And even if he did
hed still threatened that boy, still done to him what the Pi Sigs had done to Jawaad. Just
because his brothers had helped Zayn didnt make that less true.

No, he hasnt said anything about it. Just asked about your cousin, asked what happened. One
of the other boys, a sophomore, pipes up. I didnt realize that was your cousin, man. Id have
done something if Id known.

Then why
Because hes been a total fucking sad sap, since you dumped him, Louis informs Zayn. He lets
go of him, slides back towards his boys, so its Zayn facing all of them. And you guys were
really cute together, and we liked having you around. And hes too proud and sad to come talk to
you, so were doing it for him.

I got this. Niall ruffles his hair, puts on the most ridiculous pout Zayns ever seen, and saunters
over to him in whats a pretty decent imitation of Harrys swagger. Baby, he says, in a
comically deep voice. Please take me, Harry Styles, back?

Zayn cant help laughing.

No, Niall says, his voice normal. Your line is, not your baby, then you kiss me, come on.
Except dont kiss me. Sorry dude, youre pretty, but youre not my type.

Just give him another chance, Liam puts in, puppy dog eyes in full effect.

Zayn looks between all of them. They justwhy are they making this difficult? Hes so fucking
angry still, even if punching Chip had made everything feel a lot better, and Harry had still done
all thatbut he cant just say no to these guys, when they had called him one of them, when
theyd had his back when no one else did.

Ill think about it, he allows.

Is that like a moms Ill think about it? Michael asks, from the back.

No, Zayn snaps. Its an Ill think about it.

Come on boys, we did what we could. Bressie holds up his hands, like hes some sort of
shepherd. And Zayn. His intimidating look is very intimidating. If youre going to get into
more fights, tell one of us first, so we can give you back up.

Yeah, thanks, Zayn mutters, rubbing at his arm where Chip had hit him.

No problem. Bressie gives him one more stare, then turns to herd the rest of the boys away.
Zayn watches them go. He knows they deserve his thanks. That they saved him, probably. But
but he cant get that image out of his head, of Harry looming. Of Harry being every fucking thing
he hates.

Zayn. Liams hand is heavy on his shoulder. Can I talk to you for a sec?

I think you are.

Liam doesnt smile. His brow is furrowed, and he looks almost nervous, hunched over Zayn a
little so he can be quiet.

Um, so Harry said some stuffand I can guess, from the timingand I just dont want you to
thinkanyway. Liam runs a hand through his hair. Zayn waits. So, the thing is, theres this
guy, hes been giving Soph problems? Following her around, being really creepy, all that shit.
Shes complained, but he hasnt actually done anything, so theres nothing the administration can
do, you know? But shes really freaked. So the boys have been trying to help, if they see him near
her.

Oh. Oh. Zayns eyes widen.

So, a few days ago

Harry was warning him away, yeah. Liam nods, his face so very earnest. He was just helping
me out. Being a good person. Notwhatever you thought.

Fuck. Now its Zayns turn to run a hand through his hair. Fuck. Hedhed been defending a
friend, and that was something Zayn could get behind. Something Zayn understood. Hed been
defending a friend, and Zayn had just Fuck.

Soph doesnt want to make a big deal about it, so Harry might not have told you, but I thought
you should know. Liam smiles hopefully. If thatll help. Because, like. Ive never seen Harry as
happy as he is with you.

Yeah. Fuck. Zayn needs to go home, needs to think about this. Ithanks. For telling me,
Liam.

Of course. Liam hesitates for a second, then punches Zayns arm, friendly. And, I wanted to
tell you tooI got a B on that paper.

Really? Zayn does grin then, purely pleased. Thats great, Liam.

All thanks to you. Liam beams. So, if I can help at allif any of us canjust let us know,
okay? If Chip comes after you or your cousin again.

Thanks, Liam. Zayn finds he means it, too. Really. Thanks.

Like Tommo said. Liam grins. Youre one of us.

----

Jawaads on the couch when Zayn comes in, but hes staring at the door, not playing a video
game or anything. Just clearly watching for Zayn.

Waiting up for me? Zayn jokes, as he closes the door. He really hopes Jawaad doesnt want to
fight too. He needs to figure out what the fuck hes doing with Harry, thats all his emotional
energy tonight.

You got into a fight with the Pi Sigs? Jawaad demands, surging to his feet. What the hell,
Zayn?

Well, there goes his hope of not fighting. It wasnt a fight. It was two punches.

How? Jawaads gaze flicks up and down Zayn. Howd you get out of it like that?

Zayn sighs, and leans against the wall. The Delta Chi guys came along. Backed me.

Well thank fuck for that. Jawaad glares. You could have gotten killed.

Arent you even going to thank me for defending your girlfriend? Zayn snaps back.

Yes. Jawaad takes a deep breath, like he did when they were kids and he was trying not to rise
to Walis bait. Thank you. Really. Maria said what you did. But Zayn, you could have gotten
killed.

I didnt. Zayn shrugs. And I couldnt not.

It doesnt seem like theyre fighting any more, so he walks over to the couch too, flings himself on
it so their knees are touching. Jawaads still stiff, so Zayn nudges him with his knee, and Jawaad
smiles weakly.

I do appreciate it, Jawaad says, quietly. I know what youve always done for me, for all of us,
and how its made my life easier. But you really dont have to.

Sure I do. Zayn tries out a smile, and it works, somehow. With Jawaad not mad, even with all
this Harry shit. Im your big cousin, its what I do.

Yeah. Jawaad sighs. Im just glad the Delta Chis came along when they did. What did they
want?

Zayn lets out a long breath. For me to take Harry back.

And will you? Jawaad turns, and for a second he looks so much like Zayns dad that Zayns
heart hurts. I dont know what happened, but not making it about me or whateveryoure a lot
less on edge, when youre with him.

Yeah. Zayn drops his head back, so he can stare up at the ceiling. I know.

----

Its weirdly comforting, coming to the house. Its only been a few days, but it feels longer, and its
constancy is comforting in its general filth. There are still the same leftover PBR cans on the table,
and the same wolf whistles as Ashton lets Zayn into the house, smirking.

Yeah, shut up, Zayn mutters, flipping any assorted brothers off. Is Harry here?

In his room, Ashton tells him. Go get some.

Fuck off, Zayn retorts, and heads upstairs.

He takes a deep breath before he knocks on Harrys door. This isnt something hes good at
apologizing, backing down. But he needs to at least tell Harry what hed thought, and how hed
been wrong. He owes him that. Andand fuck, he just misses Harry. Misses his arms and his
hands and his smile, and he doesnt even have the righteous anger to bolster him against that.

Im not going tonight, so give it up, Lou, Harry calls, at Zayns knock. His voice echoes in
Zayns bones, too long since hes heard it.

Not Louis, Zayn calls back, and Zayn hears the footsteps before the door swings open.

Harry looks good. He looks a bit of a mess, in sweatpants and a t-shirt and his hair stuffed under a
beanie, but he looks good as always.

Zayn? he rubs at his eyes, like he cant believe it. What are you doing here?

Can I come in?

Under his tight t-shirt, Zayn can see his chest expand, drain. Then he steps back, holds open the
door.

It looks the same too, as the last time Zayn had been in here. Of course it did, but being hereit
feels different.

Harry crosses his arms across his chest, which Zayn is at least fifty percent certain is an attack on
his sanity, given the bulge in his biceps, and leans back against the door. What are you doing
here? he repeats.
here? he repeats.

Liam told me. No better way than to just dive in, Zayn supposes. Fuck, he hates this. Cant they
just be at the point where he can get his hands on Harry again? About Sophia, and that guy. And,
like. Zayn runs a hand through his hair. Im sorry. I was already angry in general, about Jawaad,
and you got me on a bad day. Can we forget about it?

Hes not expecting to be nervous, but he is, as Harry looks at him, with those calm green eyes.
Assessing, like Zayns never quite seen them before, just as intent and hot but with something
else, too. Something Zayns not entirely sure he likes. Zayn shifts on his feet, as Harry considers.
He doesnt know what there is to consider. He apologized, isnt that enough?

No, Harry says at last, and Zayns heart thumps.

What?

No, Harry repeats, sure. No, we cant forget about it. Did you really think Id beat some kid up
for talking to my friends girlfriend? That Im like Diller and those Pi Sigs?

It looked Zayn starts, but Harry doesnt let him.

I dont care how it looked, you should have listened to me! He pushes off the wall, paces
forward, and for the first time Zayn really internalizes that Harrys big and broad and hes angry,
in a way Zayns never seen him, the heat in his eyes not from lust, his cheeks flushed. This is
what you always fucking do, though. You have made so many assumptions about me from the
day we met, no matter what I do, and

Well can you blame me? Zayn spits back. Hes not taking this lying down. You started hitting
on me the second you saw me! Youve always acted like every other frat bro and

And whats wrong with that? Harry shouts. What is wrong with being in a frat? You have
such a fucking superiority complex and I have dealt with all your fucking pretentious hipster shit

What

Every single time youre so sure you know everything and that youve got to make everything so
complicated and cant just relax for one second and make fun of me and my friends, but no,
youre so sure youre the one in the right! All the fucking time!

Because I am! Zayns voice is rising too, and he knows everyone can probably hear it, but he
doesnt care. Because this is everything I hate, everything thats made my life miserable

So are you! You and your judgment and your snobbery.

Im not a snob.

You really fucking are, Zayn, and I love you for it, but you dont get to just want me for parts of
me! Harry spreads his arms out wide. You dont get to just be an asshole to me again and again
because you think Im some Neanderthal who cant feel anything, because I have never once
treated you like that!

Yeah? Zayn snaps. What about when you thought someone else was hitting on me and
decided to maul my neck?

Harrys eyes narrow. You enjoyed that just as much as me.

Doesnt mean you werent claiming me.

So what if I was? Whats wrong with wanting people to know youre my boyfriend? Harry
retorts, and takes another step forward. What is wrong with being in a frat, and having all this?
What makes it so wrong? Without all of your stereotypes and prejudices, what is so wrong?

It just is! Zayn yells, and takes his own step forward. He didntHarrys wrong. Hes not
prejudiced, hes just realistic, because he knows the odds. He knows the odds and Harrys
muscles are flexing and his eyes are bright and his cheeks flushed like they are when they fuck.
Because I hate everything frats stand for, but I cant hate you, and it just is!

And I cant stand half your hipster bullshit! Harry yells. So dont come in here wanting me
back but ignoring the parts of me that you dont like until you can use them against me, because I
cant do that anymore. If you want to be an asshole like that, go somewhere else, Im done.

Youre done? Zayn rocks forward. Hes not even sure what hes saying anymore, he just knows
Harrys hurting him and hes wrong he has to be wrong so he wants to hurt Harry back, wants
Harry not to be done with him, and anger is better than hurt. Thats good to know, so I wont get
a booty call tonight, begging because you cant think of anything but me? So you arent miserable
without me? So youll be okay when I find someone else?

Harry closes the distance between the again, and he is looming now. Ill wish them the joy of
you. Tell them to get out before they realize what an asshole you are.

Zayn can feel his hand shaking as he closes it into a fist. Better an asshole than a victim, he
retorts. Harrys close now, and he can feel the heat of him as he tilts his head back to keep eye
contact. But really, youll wish them the joy of me? Maybe Ill go find that Paul guy, see if he
cant keep me satisfied. See if he can put up with all my literary hipster bullshit, see if he likes
touching me

Shut up, Harry hisses.

Zayn glares. Or what?

Hes not sure which of them move first. He just knows that his mouths on Harrys, and Harrys
stumbling back against the wall as his hands clutch hard at Zayns hips, their lips and tongues and
teeth clashing as they kiss. Zayns not sure if hes angry or turned on or turned on by the anger or
if its just Harry but he wants, and he knows hes muttering Harrys name over and over again as
he kisses at his jaw, biting at his neck. Harrys hands grab at his ass, pulling him in, pulling him
close, those big hands Zayns missed.

Off, Zayn snaps, and then hes yanking at Harrys shirt, pulling it off of him as quickly as he
can. Hes burning with it, with the need, to show Harry he wont just fucking give him up like
this, that he might have his bullshit but this he can do.

Harry doesnt even both saying anything, his hands are just under Zayns shirt already, scratching
at his back, and their hips are grinding together and Zayn can feel how hard Harry is, to match
him.

Fuck, Zayn, Harry breathes, and then hes pulling or tugging or something and theyre falling
onto the bed.

Zayn crawls on top of him before he can do anything, his hands frantic on Harrys chest, his abs,
his hips. He slides down, pulls off Harrys sweatpants, and keeps that frantic exploration, as Harry
moans above him. Hes doesnt even realize what hes doing until,
Zayn, I didnt, Harry pants out, his hand grabbing at Zayns hair to pull him back up. There
wasnt anyone.

Good, Zayn growls, and then hes pulling his own shirt off, and Harry barely lets him do that
before hes rolling them so he can bite his own marks at Zayns chest, below his belly button,
before he finally gets Zayns pants off.

I wish I could hate you, Harry mutters, and licks around Zayns nipples, so Zayn squirms and
then shoves his head away, so he can grab a condom and lube.

I wish I could hate you, Zayn retorts, and throws the condom at Harry before pouring lube onto
his fingers. Harrys staring, hot and hungry, and he licks his lips as Zayn reaches between his legs.
I shouldfuck I should hate you Harry, you

Im not that, Harry insists. He knocks Zayns hand aside when he adds another finger, grabs the
lube himself. You know that Zayn.

Fuck, Zayn swears, as Harry slides two of his own fingers in, thicker than Zayns. I know
Harry I know

Do you? Harry purrs, scissoring his fingers slowly. Do you? Or do you think Im just another
stupid frat bro? He twists his fingers to brush Zayns prostate, and Zayns back arches as he cries
out.

No, youjust fuck me already, come on.

Im not, Harry says again, and adds another finger. Hes staring at Zayn like theres no one else
in the world but him. Im not, Im just me, and you either want all of me or none of me, you
dont get part.

Harry. Zayn tries to pull him close for a kiss, to touch him, but Harry wont, just keeps his three
fingers in Zayn, not fast or big enough so Zayns grinding down on them, and he lets go of Harry
to stroke at his own cock, but he doesnt want to come before Harry gets in him. You going to
lecture me or fuck me?

Cant I do both? Harry retorts, but he pulls his fingers out, and Zayns mouth might actually be
watering as he rolls the condom on.

He pauses, above Zayn, as Zayns legs wrap around his waist. God, Zayn

Harry, Zayn says again, urgent, and it seems to shake Harry out of it, because then hes lining
up his cock and sliding in, and Zayns groan feels like its ripped from him, or maybe thats
Harrys, he doesnt know.

Zayn, Harry pants, as he starts to move. God, I shouldI just cantyoure such a fucking
asshole, he swears, and Zayn tightens his legs around Harrys waist in response, bringing him
deeper.

So are you, Zayn retorts. So arrogant and smug and fuck yeah right there.

What was I? Harry purrs, but hes hitting Zayns prostate again and he cant think. Is that
good, Zayn? Do you want me?

Harry, is all Zayn can get out, and he reaches down to jerk himself off, but Harrys hands are on
his wrists suddenly pinning them on the top of the bed, and Zayns whole body shudders with
that, with how Harrys hand spans his wrists, keeps him there; how Harrys other hand is on
Zayns dick but its not quite enough

Do you want me? Harry says again, as he fucks hard into Zayn, and Zayn doesnt have breath
to answer. All of me, baby? Because I want you, all of your fucking snobbish arrogance, and
fuck Zayn you feel so good, want you his hand tightens on Zayn, moving faster, and Zayn
moans and arches against Harrys grip, wanting more. Do you?

Harry. Its all thats in Zayns mind. Harry, please, yeah, please, want, Im so close, please,
come on

Do you? Harry repeats, and his eyes are burning as he stares at Zayn.

Yeah, Zayn gets out, forces out. Yeah, Harry, please, yes, I do, please, more

He lifts his head to kiss Harry, because its all he can think to do, and Harry kisses him back and
his grip is just right on Zayn and he fucks into him hard and deep and Zayns just breathing his
name into Harrys mouth as he comes.

Harry keeps fucking him through it, his other hand coming up for leverage as he lets go of Zayn,
and Zayn has enough brainpower left to run his hands through Harrys hair, scrape over his back
like he likes. Feel so good, he murmurs, his voice hoarse. You feel so good, Harry, no one
feels as good as you, no one make me feel

He can feel Harry come in him, feels the harsh breaths against his neck, but he keeps holding on
until Harrys spent, collapsing on top of him.

Zayn pushes Harry off softly, then has to get up to get to the laundry bag to get a rag. When he
comes back, Harrys already thrown away the condom, and is spread out on the bed, his gaze
wary.

Are we going to fight again? he asks, as Zayn comes back to sit on the bed. Because Ill need
some time if its going to end up like that.

I didnt mean to fight in the first place. Slowly, Zayn lies down next to him, but Harry doesnt
push him away or anything, just lifts himself up onto one elbow to look at him. Maybe Zayn
should be more worried, but he thinks any nerves or anger just got fucked out of him completely.

I know. Harrys eyes are somehow big and young as they look at him. But, I meant what I
said, Zayn. Youve always thought the worst of me, and Ive never done anything to deserve that.
You cant keep doing that, if were doing this. You cant just keep taking the parts you want and
ignoring the ones you dont like.

Zayn swallows. He hadnt thought that he had been. But its

Did you mean it? he asks, instead of answering.

I just said I did

No. Zayn sits up a bit too. You said earlieryou said you loved me for it. Do you?

Oh. Harrys cheeks are a bit red, and he runs a hand through his hair. II think so. I know
Ive never felt like this about anyone else. And that I was miserable without you. And that you
make me happy. So, probably? He shrugs, like thats enough. And maybe it is. Maybe it is that
simple. That Harry makes Zayn happy, and he hated not having him here, and hes different than
anyone else.
Ill never like frat culture, Zayn says, slowly. Itsthat sort of thing has left a lot of scars, and
it makes people do stupid shit, and I dont like that. But I like you. And your friends. And I can
accept that there are good parts of it. He knows hes biting his lip, and stops. And Ill try to be
less of an asshole about it. If, like. If youre okay with that.

Harry grins, blindingly bright, his dimples deep in his cheeks. I can be okay with that, he agrees,
and leans in to kiss Zayn, slow and sweet enough that Zayn keeps his eyes closed for a second
after they stop.

Soare we, like. God, Zayn hates himself. Official, then? Boyfriends, or whatever?

If I had a lettermans jacket, Id give it to you, Harry promises. Actually he rolls over, grabs
something on the other side of the bed. When he rolls back over, hes holding his Delta Chi
baseball hat. Very carefully, he puts it on Zayns head, turns it backwards. There. Official.

Zayn rolls his eyes, but hes grinning. Im not wearing this outside.

Ill convince you, Harry dismisses, cheerfully. Then, without warning, he grabs a shoe and
whips it at the door. And you can stop listening, perverts! We made up.

Zayn hears a thump from outside the door, like someone fell over. Well if you didnt argue and
fuck so loudly, we wouldnt be worried when you got quiet! Louis retorts, through the door.
Then there are footsteps thumping away. They made up! Louis yells. Watch out for the area
around Harrys room again, it may scar young ears!

Zayn falls back onto the bed, laughing. Harry grins sheepishly as he squirms closer, so his chin is
resting on Zayns shoulder. Still not being an asshole about it?

Convince me not to, Zayn retorts, and Harry smirks, tilting his face up.

Oh, I can do that, he purrs, and pulls Zayn on top of him to show him how.

---

Zayn is cold. Its cold and hes bored and this is not how he wants to spend his Sunday morning,
which is asleep with Harry and then maybe seeing if he can convince Harry to bring him coffee
from downstairs. Not in this stupid parking lot with a lot of drunk college students yelling about a
game he doesnt care about.

Zayn! Comes a voice, and then there are arms around Zayns waist, pulling him into Harrys
chest. He smells like beer, and when Zayn turns around, his eyes are bright, and his cheeks are
flushed behind the facepaint that Zaynd already heartily mocked. You ready to sit on my lap and
let me explain football to you?

Zayn shoves at his shoulder, but its hard to stay grumpy when Harrys grinning at him like that.
Im not sitting in your lap. And its cold.

Thats because youre wearing a leather jacket at a tailgate, Harry snorts, and gets his hands in
his jeans to pull him close. I know you look hot, but doesnt do much to keep you warm.

Zayn smirks. Then youll just have to do that, wont you?

Or you could have more beer, Niall remarks, from behind them. Honestly. This is a sporting
event, not a sex club.

Yeah? Zayn throws over his shoulder, but he relaxes into Harry. He is warm, in his sweatshirt
and bulk. You got a lot of experience in sex clubs then, Niall?

Your mom has a lot of experience in sex clubs, Niall retorts, and Harry snorts.

Hey, dont insult Zayns mom. Shes lovely.

Zayn rolls his eyes. Zayns mom had loved Harry, when theyd come down to pick him and
Jawaad up for Thanksgiving break and taken them out for dinner. Not that it hadnt been cute,
watching Harry fuss beforehand, hearing from Louis afterwards how many outfits hed gone
through and how hed looked up conversation topics ahead of time. But now his mom wont shut
up about his lawyer boyfriend, and its getting old.

You just like that she sends you cookies now too, he accuses.

I do like that, Harry agrees, easily. And they should all like that too, because I share.

Fine. Niall rolls his eyes. Be that way. Im gonna go find someone who appreciates my offer of
beer. He stalks off, and Zayn ignores it to huddle closer into Harry. Its really cold.

Never knew you to turn down free beer, he tells Harry, who shrugs.

Im here on a mission, he admits, and drags his hands out of Zayns pockets to dig into his own.
When he comes out with a facepaint pen, though, Zayn steps back, disentangling himself.

No.

Come on, Zayn, wheres your school pride? he demands, brandishing the pen. Dont you want
to show your spirit?

I am breaking up with you if that touches my face, Zayn tells him, laughing as he backs away.
You got me to a tailgate, thats as far as I go.

This is part of the tailgate!

Its not! Zayn insists, and dodges around a cooler. Theres a bunch of the guys hanging out by
the beer; Liams his best bet, Zayn knows, and darts behind him. Youll never catch me, Styles!

Think its a bit late for that, Bressie points out, as Harry and Zayn keep circling a laughing
Liam. Zayn ignores it, because staying out of reach of Harry is a lot harder than it should be for
someone who trips over everything. At least this is keeping him warm, he figures, and the
competition usually gets Harry ready to go when Zayn does let him catch him.

This time, though, Zayn dodges one wayand runs into Louis, who grabs his shoulders. Caught
him!

Louis! Zayn snaps. Then, Liam! because Liams betrayed him, grabbing Zayns other
shoulder.

Sorry. Liams grinning though, not sorry at all. Fucking frat bros, Zayn scoffs, and tries to
pretend it isnt fond. Youve got to have some of our colors on, though.

Told you you should have worn my shirt. Harry stabs a finger into his chest, then waves the
pen. Now hold still.

This is bullying, Zayn mutters, as Harrys hand cups his cheek, and he stills on instinct.
Keeping me here against my will. Abduction.
Its really not, Harry hums, his tongue peeking out from between his lips as he works. Zayn
wonders, idly, how much it would mess things up if he kissed him now. It would probably get
Louis and Liam to let go of himtheyre still a little unsure how to treat Zayn when he switches
from their bro to Harrys boyfriend, though Zayn does know theyre trying.

Hes only just considered the plan, though, when Harry steps back. Done! he announces, and
pulls out his phone. Smile, baby.

Not your baby. Zayn rolls his eyes, but he pouts at the phone, hollowing his cheeks like he
knows Harry likes.

Beautiful. Harry takes the picture, then turns it around so Zayn can see the symbol on his cheek.
Its not nearly as garish as the ones Harry has across his face, or what Zayn can see on peoples
stomachs, so theres that at least. Not that Zayn really thinks Harry would be that much of an
asshole. You can let go of him now, guys.

Dont like us having our hands on your boy? Louis teases, but he lets go, holds up his hands.
Now look like youre having fun, Zayn, and youll fit right in.

Dont ask for too much, Zayn retorts, and glares at Harry, whos typing on his phone. What
are you doing?

Sending that to Claire. She wanted proof I got you here. He pauses, then grins at his phone.
Marta says you look wonderful, and shes immortalizing this moment forever.

I hate you, and my friends are traitors, Zayn snaps. Claire becoming more and more accepting
of Harry, if not everyone he comes with, has not been as nice as it sounds. He knew he didnt
have a chance with Marta, but hed hoped Claire would stay on his side.

You dont hate me. Harry tells him, dimpling. He slides his fingers into Zayns belt loop, pulls
him close, and Zayn doesnt bother to resist. Hes cold, and Harrys warm. And he likes being
near Harry, even if hes being ridiculous and making Zayn go to a fucking tailgate. At least
theyre on one end of the parking lot, away from where the Pi Sigs are being loud and obnoxious.

Sure I do. You made me come here.

I can make you come here, Harry replies, his voice going deep, and smirks. There are
bathrooms in the stadium, you know.

Gross ones. Zayn wrinkles his nose. We could have been having sex if we were in bed now.

But now we get to watch football! And I can explain it all to you and you can nod like Im
brilliant.

Sounds delightful. And I do understand most of it, Ive hung out in the living room enough while
its on.

Stop making sense. Harry presses his lips quickly to Zayns. If you really hate it, you can go. I
wont mind.

Nah. Zayn lets out a breath, and shrugs. I should go to one football game while Im in school,
right? And I suppose youre tolerable company.

Harry grins, brighter than before, all his arrogance melted away. Knew you loved me really.

You. Not football, Zayn clarifies, and pushes up for a real kiss, because he needs proper
warming up.

Theyre broken out of it by Nialls yell of, Harry! Pick up game, us versus the Alpha Rho. You
in?

Harry breaks the kiss, tilts his head and sticks out his lower lip at Zayn. Zayn scoffs, but he
disentangles his hands from Harrys hair. Go on. Ill amuse myself.

You can watch me win, thatll be amusing, Harry informs him, and gives Zayns ass a final
squeeze as he runs off to where a bunch of the boys are gathering.

Zayn wanders over to the truck, where he grabs a can of beer. Maybe it will warm him up. It will
at least make this whole thing more interesting. He cracks it open, and leans against the truck to
drink it, idly watching as the Delta Chi guys huddle up on one end of the open space, clearly
discussing strategy.

Zayn pulls out his phone, then, when hes done with that and the boys are still playing, he gives it
up for lost and pulls the book hed brought for just this possibility out of his pocket. Rumi gets him
through another few minutes, until

The fuck are you doing reading! someone jostles into him, and his book falls to the ground as
Zayn looks up into a flushed, broad face under a Pi Sig hat. s a football game, not a library!

And this is a book, not a football, Zayn snaps. God, he hates frat bros sometimes, even now.
When they do shit like this. So go throw your football around and leave me to do what I want.

Why dont I just throw the book around, the guy retorts, and if Zayn could set people on fire
with his mind, this guy wouldnt have any problem staying warm.

Just try

Beers in the back, Harry cuts in, his hands coming to grab at Zayns waist, squeezing in a hint
of warning. Zayn hisses out a breath. Its not his fault. Go grab some if you need it, Jones.

Styles, the guy grunts, and apparently forgets all about Zayn in favor of alcohol.

This is what you get for bringing a book to a tailgate, Harry says, letting go of Zayn to pick up
the book. He slides it into his pocket, and moves his hand so hes holding Zayns hand instead of
his hips. Did you think the game was going to be that boring?

Didnt want to risk it.

Well, dont worry. Ill keep you entertained, Harry waggles his eyebrows, and Zayn snorts as
he jostles Harry with his shoulder. Harry squeezes his hand, and starts to tug him towards the
stadium where people are gathering.

He really does hate frat bros, Zayn knows. He does. Just

He lets Harry herd him to their seats, and does try to listen as he starts explaining everything, an
excited smile on. His hairs a mess around his face, held back by his baseball cap, and Zayn has to
kiss him, shutting him up for a second.

Harrys dimpling when he pulls back. What was that for?

Zayn shrugs. cause I wanted to.

 You should want to more often. Harry edges closer on the seats, throws his arm around Zayns
waist. So, our records about even with the team, so if we score

Just maybe not his.

End Notes

Liked it? Want to discuss? Comment or come chat on tumblr!

Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!
 Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at
http://download.archiveofourown.org/works/5884345.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Relationship: Zayn Malik/Harry Styles
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - After College/University, Frat Boy Harry, Hipster
Zayn, Established Relationship, Bottom Zayn
Series: Part 2 of Not Your Baby
Stats: Published: 2016-02-02 Words: 4391

Baby I'm Yours

by StormDancer

Summary

In which it's been two months too long, and the walls of Zayn's apartment are probably too
thin for this

Notes

Just a coda to Baby Be Mine that got a bit out of hand! I'd wanted to think about Harry's
POV a little, so this was fun to explore. True to form with these two, it ended up being
mostly sex. I'm not sure it'll make sense if you haven't read Baby Be Mine. Enjoy!

See the end of the work for more notes

Harry shows up with a bottle of vodka. Its pretty decent vodka too, Niall had approved it and
everything, so hes not worried. Hes not worried about anything. Hes just a little wary, as he
steps over the threshold a girl with dreads and a nose ring let him in.

Its not that hes never been in Zayns space before. Theyd spent some nights at Zayns apartment
in college, though more at the house, because there was more room there. But this isnt a college
apartment, one step up from a dorm. This is Zayns new apartment, for starting his real life, and it
is Harrys first time in there.

He runs a hand through his hair, tugs on his necklace. Hes not nervous. Its been two months
since he properly saw his boyfriend, but hes not nervous. Hes just aware that people are looking
at him, because hes wearing his Delta Chi hat and probably stands out like a sore thumb. Or
maybe no ones looking, and hes making it up, but either way he definitely doesnt know anyone
here.

The main room is pretty small, but big for a two bedroom in the city, and crowded with people.
Theyve got cups of what looks like wine in their hands, and the music is something Harrys never
heard before but sounds like the shit Zayn likes. Martas pictures are up on the walls, some of the
ones Harry saw when he went to her shows last year with Zayn, some new; there are some other
black and white photos, and already the bookshelves are mostly filled. Harry spares them a smile.
His nerdy boy.

He edges his way through the crowds, which give easily enough. He wants to find Zayn, and
there isnt enough room really that he should be this hard to find, but of course hes being difficult.
Instead, in the kitchen, Harry finds Marta and Claire, chatting with a purple-haired girl in an
oversized flannel, but Marta breaks away when she sees him.

Harry! she grins, and pushes onto her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. Hi! How was your
summer?

It was good. He grins at her, then nods at Claire. Claire.

Youre late, she tells him coolly. Its been nearly nine months, and hes still fairly certain Claire
is waiting for him to show his true colors. Zayn muttered something about old habits when he tried
to ask about it, but Harry figures he can only wait it out and hope to convince her otherwise, and
hope Zayn doesnt listen to her in the meantime.

Plane was late, he explains, smiling at her too. And had to pick up the housewarming gift. He
holds out the vodka. Claire takes it, inspects it like she thinks hes poisoned it. Harry doesnt let
himself sigh. Hell make a good impression eventually.

Not bad, she allows, then lets Marta snatch it out of her hand.

Shit, this is the good stuff, she says, reading the label. Youve already impressed him, you
dont have to buy him nice things to get into his pants.

Or get him drunk, Claire adds.

Nah, thats the present for you two, Harry tells them, winking. So you can have some fun.
Marta giggles, and Claire smiles, as her girlfriend wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her
close. Ive got something else for Zayn.

Is it your dick?

Might be, Harry agrees, and even Claire snorts. Where is he?

I think hes out back, Claire nods at the doors on the other end of the kitchen, that open into the
patio. Harry eyes it. He hadnt thought Zayn would be waiting at the door, but hed hoped hed be
easier to findmaybe looking for him.

Yeah, I saw him go thatoh, hi Imani! Marta interrupts herself, turning to a new girl who
throws her arms around both Claire and Marta.

Tell the plebeians in there that Im right and everythings a vagina, she instructs Marta, who
laughs. Harrys pretty sure he will have nothing to contribute to that conversation, so he nods to
them, and heads out towards the back patio.
Its tiny too, and there isnt any grasstheyd lucked into an apartment they could afford with any
sort of outside space, Zayn had told Harry when hed been complaining about apartment hunting
over Skype, because even splitting the cost of the apartment three ways a Masters student, an
aspiring artist, and an editorial assistant dont make any moneybut its got enough space for a
few wicker chairs, which are ignored right now for another group of people, who are talkingor
maybe arguing, because voices are rising, and Harry can hear one above the rest.

He takes a second just to grin. Its not hard to pick out Zayn, both because Harry thinks hed
know his back and neck anywhere, and because his voice is the loudest, his hands waving
emphatically like he gets when hes impassioned. God, Harrys missed him. Missed him even
when hes being confrontational at parties.

Still grinning to himself, he angles so that hell come up behind Zayn. Hes still talking loudly
enough that he doesnt hear Harry coming, and everyone else must be so engrossed in the
argument that they dont point it out, so Harrys pretty sure its a surprise when he slides his arms
around Zayns waist and murmurs into his ear, Chill out, baby. Its a party.

Zayn tenses for half a second, and Harry has the odd thought that maybe hes going to get
punchedthen hes turning in Harrys arms, and Harry barely gets a second to glimpse his face
before Zayns arms are around him and he has to brace himself from falling backwards as Zayn
kisses him.

And fuck, Harrys missed thisSkype sex is great but there is nothing like Zayn in his arms, his
pouty lips and his tongue and his stubble and even his fucking eyelashes, how solid he is against
Harry, pushing at him like he needs to be closer. Harry grabs his ass and pulls him in, then
somehow up until hes holding Zayn up so Zayn, apparently, can concentrate on kissing him
senseless.

Classy, Malik, someone says, and Zayn lifts a hand to flip him off, not stopping kissing Harry.

I can get some water, someone else says, and that gets Zayn to lift his head, though his thighs
are still clamped around Harry.

Its been two months, Chester. Fuck off. His voice is almost a growl, the low hoarse thing it gets
when hes turned on, and Harry just wants to carry him off to the closest bed. Two months is two
months too fucking long. There must be a bed somewhere nearby. Or a flat surface. Or a vertical
one, Harrys not picky.

Im sorry, did you want to warm your house and hang out with friends or fuck your jock
boyfriend? Someone else drawls, and Harry loosens his grip just in time for Zayn to drop back to
his feet and spin around, glaring at the guy who spoke, some skinny guy with dirty dirty blonde
hair and skinny jeans on skinnier legs.

Im sorry, were we disturbing you? Zayn snaps. Is it a problem with you if I want to kiss my
boyfriend who I havent seen in two months? Or is it only a problem because he happens to enjoy
an activity you dont?

Im just saying, hes hot, we know that, but do you

He has a name and ears, Zayn spits back, and now his hackles are up. And Harry is

If Harry was the sort of person who would tell people he told them so, hed record this and play it
back to Zayn, just so he could remember who he was six months ago. As it is, he just rolls his
eyes, and slides his hands back onto Zayns hips. And maybe stores this up to tease Zayn about
later.
Not worth it, he tells Zayn, wrapping his hands around Zayns hips. Zayn stands his ground for
a second, then he lets Harry turn him around, take a step back, away from the group.

Its always worth it, Zayn retorts. Even in the dim light from the moon and the half-dead bare
bulb mounted to the wall, his eyes are flashing, and his jaw is clearly set.

Stillits the first time Harrys gotten a proper look at him yet, and for a second, he just wants to
stare. Harry knows theyre good together, knows hes hot and quite a catch, but sometimes, he
gets that guy back there. He doesnt know what Zayn is doing with him either, gorgeous, brilliant
Zayn, who can be such a fucking asshole but cares so much about the people he loves. Whos so
beautiful, standing there in the half light in his ripped jeans and a tight black Henley, that if Harry
were any good with words hed want to, like, write a song about him or something. .

Well, you could be arguing with him, Harry points out, and slides a finger into the top rip of his
jeans, rubbing against his thighs. Those are his fuck-me jeans, Harry knows, with their rips like an
invitation to get under them. He was looking to get fucked tonight. Maybe he was looking
forward to seeing Harry. Or, Harry goes on, dragging his eyes up to Zayns head. You could
tell me what the hell you did to your hair?

Zayn laughs, and rubs a hand over the bleached strands. It definitely hadnt been like that the last
time Harry had Skyped with him, a week ago. Then, it had been growing out after Zayn had
shaved it all off a few months ago, but it had definitely been black. Not this silver.

I wanted a change, he admits, and gives one of those quick looks up at Harry, the ones that
make him seem vulnerable even though Harry knows perfectly well hes the most dangerous
person he knows. Do you like it?

Youd look hot with green hair, Harry informs him, because he would. Because Zayn would
look hot everywhere, but especially in his bed. And you look hot defending me.

Well, youre so helpless, Zayn agrees, and Harry can see him softening, the fight draining out of
him as he relaxes. Clearly you need me.

I do, Harry tugs, and Zayn comes forward with it, his arms wrapping around his neck. Missed
you, baby.

Not your baby, Zayn says, fond like it usually is these days, then kisses him again. Its softer
this time, not the frantic need but a gentle welcome, and Harry slides his hands up Zayns sides,
relearning it, relearning how his lips feel. He pulls away too soon, though his hands stay twined in
Harrys hair. Now. Take me to bed.

Really? But what about the party? Harry manages to keep a straight face, as Zayn scowls.

Fuck them. Its been two months.

Thats not very polite.

Zayn makes a sound thats almost a hiss, and his hands tighten in Harrys hair, tugging like he
likes. Harry Styles. If you dont take me to my room right now and fuck me, Ill

Youll what? Harry asks, as he starts to walk backwards towards the door. What will you do to
me, Zayn?

Something drastic, Zayn mutters, steering him in through the door.

But its a party! Maybe I want to socialize. Maybe I want to meet your friends. Harrys protests
would probably be a lot better if his hand didnt tighten around Zayns wrist to tug him along, but
he can live with that. Zayns not any less eager.

You can meet them after, Zayn informs him, and then theyre at a door and Zayns opening it
and shoving him through. He closes the doorthen Harry doesnt waste another second, before
hes got him pushed against the door, and can kiss him properly.

Kissing Zayn isnt like kissing anyone else Harrys ever kissed; its a fight and a homecoming all
in one, and Harrys been addicted since the first time, when hed thought it would just be a one
off, when Zayn was just a hot hipster kid he wanted to fuck. Now its so much more, and Zayns
hands are scraping down his back, over his shoulders and his neck and his back and his ass and
then back over his arms, as Harry moves from his lips down his neck, remembering the skin there.

Fuck, Harry, Id forgotten

Forgotten what? Harry murmurs, sucking at his neck. Zayn pretends to hate it when he does
that, but he knows the breathy sound Zayn makes when he does, when he marks Zayn up
maybe it is him being a Neanderthal or whatever, but he loves it, loves Zayn bruised from his
mouth, wrecked because of him. Loves it when people can see that.

Your fucking arms, Zayn says, and Harrys not sure if thats an answer but it doesnt matter
because Zayns grinding against him and hes waited two months for this, hes not going to last.

Come here, he says, and then hes pulling off Zayns shirt, so hes got so much more skin to
remember.

Hurry up, Zayn orders, and tries to push away from the door, probably to get to the bed, but
Harry shifts so hes got him pinned against the door. Theyre always like this, the push and the
pull, but Harry wants to take his time, wants to pull Zayn apart and remember each piece. Wants
Zayn fallen apart until hes sure he does need Harry, until they both remember why Harrys here.

You, Harry murmurs, sliding his hands under the hem of Zayns jeans, to tease. Need to be
quiet. Theres a party going on out there.

Well, if youd fucked me already, Id be out there.

Youre such a romantic.

Ill be a romantic for round two. Harry traces over the heart at his hip, over the words on the
other side, and grinds his hips lazily into Zayn, just to watch him dig his teeth into his lip.
Harry.

Zayn, Harry retorts, but hes hard too, and aching, and this would be a lot easier if they were on
a bed, so he steps back, lets Zayn go. Zayn responds by pouncing on him and kissing him again,
and he stumbles backwards until theyre falling onto the bed, twisting so Harry lands on top of
Zaynor he would if he didnt catch himself.

Then hes holding himself up over Zayn, and he just, he missed this. Missed Zayn, glaring at him
with his get the fuck on with it look, even as his fingers opened up Harrys shirt and shoved it
over his shoulders.

Harry lets him, lets him take the shirt off, trail his fingers over Harrys skin. He shivers with it,
especially as Zayn circles his nipples, at the deceptively gentle touch.

Had plenty of time to work out at home? Zayn asks, tracing down his stomach.
Harry laughs, and kisses the lips at his chest, because he can. Had to keep myself pretty for you. I
know you only want me for my body.

Why else would I? Zayn chuckles, and Harry ignores the pang in his chest because hes busy
licking his way down Zayns stomach, until he can get to his jeans and open them up.

It might be weird to say, and hed never say it to any of the guys, but he missed Zayns dick too,
missed the feel of it in his mouth. Definitely missed the sounds Zayn makes when he has it in his
mouth, even with Zayn trying to muffle himself for the sake of the party still going on.

Okay, fuck, Harry, you need to stop before this is over too soon, Zayn tugs at his hair, tugs him
off, and Harry might be pouting a little bit but then Zayns throwing lube and a condom at him,
and Harryll take that, yeah. Now get your pants off.

Ill get my pants off when I want to, Harry retorts, even though hed really like them off now.
But instead, mainly because Zayn shouldnt always get what he wants, he pulls at Zayns jeans,
tugging them and his boxers off. Im not like you, wearing these jeans like you wanted me to
drag you in here first thing.

Who says I didnt? Zayn helps by kicking the jeans off, then spreading his legs. I know what
you like.

I like you. Harry presses his lips to the inside of Zayns thigh, and so only gets a glimpse of
Zayns smile. Even when youre being impatient.

Youre taking forever.

What? You want me to go slower? Harry teases, as he slicks up his fingers. Zayns watching
him with dark, hungry eyes. Do you want me to have you begging for me, baby? Begging so
everyone out there will hear?

Harry Zayn doesnt quite manage to bite off his groan as Harry circles his rim with his first
finger. Harry loves it, how loud he always is, so consumed by everything hes doing, whether its
arguing philosophy or fucking Harry. Loves how, despite how big a personality he is, how much
he fills spaces, Harry can turn him into a messy boy with desperate eyes and shaking body,
fucking himself back on Harrys fingers.

You good? Harry asks, as he curves three fingers to hit Zayns prostate, making his back arch.
He better be fucking good because Harry is going to explode if he isnt, if he cant fuck Zayn right
now. Hes pretty sure his jeans are going to explode off of him right now anyway, hes so hard.
How could he not be, with Zayn naked underneath him, all lean muscle and smooth skin, his
solver hair darkened with sweat.

Yes, Harry, come on, fuck me already. Zayns voice is rough, and his hands are tight in the
blankets, like he didnt know where else to put them.

Harry pulls out his fingers, wiping them on the closest cloth he can find before he pushes off his
own jeans, rips open the condom. His hands are trembling a little, but its always like this with
Zayn, so intense it takes his breath away.

Hurry the fuck up, come on, please, Zayns voice brings him back, centers him, and he smirks.
He loves it when Zayn starts to beg, when he lets himself. Just fuck me and Ill blow you so well
later, promise, but right now hurry

Harry shuts him up with a kiss, and he can feel Zayns dick against his hip, hard and wet. Quiet,
he warns, when he pulls away, and Zayn glares.
Shut up.

Youre the one who needs to shut up, Harry retorts, his hands under Zayns knees, pulling them
up. Zayn wrinkles his nose up at him, and Harry wont ever tell Zayn this, but its adorable.

You like how loud I am.

You are pretty when you beg, Harry agrees, then hes pushing into Zayn, and all thoughts go
out the window. Its been two months too fucking long, and Zayns tight and hot and gorgeous,
and he manages to wait until Zayn says its okay, but then he might lose time, fucking into Zayn
with a hand around his dick as Zayn wraps his legs around Harrys waist and his hands dig into
Harrys shoulder, hard enough to leave marks.

Theyve always had this, even at their worst, even furious at each other, they know how to fuck,
how to move together, and its been months, so far too soon Harry is biting his lip to try to stave
off the orgasm he can feel coming up through his muscles.

Come on, baby, he grunts, shifting his hips for a better angle, speeding up his hand on Zayn,
and Zayn makes a quiet moan thats almost better than his shouts, Want to see you, come for me,
Zayn

He sees Zayns orgasm coming a second before it does, and without any hands the only way to
muffle him is to kiss him, swallowing down the moans as Zayn comes over Harrys hand.

Fuck, Harry, Zayn mutters. He keeps a hand over Harrys neck, as Harry starts going faster,
unable to control himself. He needs this, needs Zayn, feels so good

Missed you, Zayn whispers, like its a secret right for that moment, and pulls him down, kissing
him hot and fierce, and Harrys coming with Zayns name muffled by his lips.

He keeps kissing him until that feels like too much energy, and he can just lie on top of Zayn
instead, mouthing idly at his neck.

We should probably go back out, he says at last. He never wants to move. But hes pretty sure
the host of a party shouldnt hide in his bedroom all day.

Soon. Zayns fingers are in Harrys hair, carding through them. He always gets sleepy after sex,
sleepy and lazy and cuddly soft. They wont miss me.

As if on cue, theres a buzzing from the floor. Zayn groans, but leans over to grab his pants, then
his phone out of them. He opens the text, snorts, and holds it out to Harry.

If youre done fucking, get back out here. You dont get to escape hosting duties just because your
boyfriends back.

Harry laughs, and sits up, grabbing for the closest bit of fabric that isnt sheets theyll hve to sleep
on later to wipe his hand off on.

No, Zayn protests, Dont listen to her. We can sleep.

Im working on making a good impression on Claire, Harry explains, mopping up the come on
Zayns stomach. And, well. Maybe theres a part of him that wants to be out there. That wants to
be out there with Zayn looking like this, well fucked, with a bruise on his neck, with Harry next to
him. Maybe he wants to go out there, and if not belong, at least survive, so he and Zayn both will
know he can. That he doesnt need to be in the bedroom for this to work. Get dressed.
Well youve officially made my shirt unwearable. Zayn gives the shirt Harryd just wiped his
hands on a pointed look.

Zayn.

Fine. He groans and gets up, making his way the two steps to the closet as Harry pulls his jeans
back on. He starts yanking things out, throwing them on the bed, and Harry rolls his eyes. Hell
never put them back now, and Harry will end up cleaning up because he doesnt want to sleep in
a mess, thank you very much.

Zayns still choosing what to wear after Harry finishes getting dressed, so he starts folding behind
him. Hes just finished folding Zayns MTV sweater when he picks up an old, worn Delta Chi
sweatshirt off the floor, one he thought hed lost. Hed been a bit pissed about it really, because it
was his favorite, and also his favorite to give to Zayn when he was cold because Harry really
didnt make a secret of how much he liked seeing Zayn in his clothes, no matter how much Louis
made fun of him for it.

Zayn?

Zayn turns around, still finishing buttoning a dark grey button down. Yeah?

Did you steal my sweatshirt?

Zayn bites his lip, his chin coming up like he does when hes feeling vulnerable. Yeah. He rubs
at the back of his neck. You can have it back, though. It doesnt smell like you anymore.

Harrys heart thumps in his chest, and he knows he cant help his smile. What?

Zayn shrugs, but he sidles closer, giving Harry a quick look up through his eyelashes. Told you,
he says, matter of fact. I missed you.

Harry lets out a breath he didnt know he was holding, or a tension drains away. Zayn must see it,
because he steps closer again, shakes his head. I know I dont, like, say it enough, butI love
you. You know that.

Yeah. Harry does. Its just hard to remember far away, but nowhe does. Harry leans down,
picks up his hat, which must have fallen off somewhere along the way, and puts it carefully on
Zayns head. Zayn doesnt even shake it off or scowl, just smiles, the soft, quiet one that comes
out in these moments, when all his prickly walls drop away. Love you too.

Good. Zayn presses their lips together, quick and casual, then again, deeper. Itd be so easy just
to fall into that, but

Nope, we have to go out there, Harry says, detaching himself. Claires going to like me if it
kills me.

Who cares what she thinks, Zayns eyes narrow, fierce. I like you, and thats what matters. If
shes really being nasty she can fuck off.

Sometimes, Harry just loves Zayn so much, in all his prickly, angry sweetness. Shes not being
nasty. Shell warm up to me. People do. Zayns still not relaxing, so Harry takes Zayns hand,
intertwines their fingers. Its fine, Zayn. Lets go enjoy the party. We can see how many people
cant meet our eyes.

Fine. Zayn takes a breath, then squeezes Harrys hand. Just before he gets to the door, though,
he turns back. I was serious about that blow job, though. Ive wanted my mouth on you for
 months.

Zayn! Harry yelps, as Zayn laughs and opens the door, Youre such an asshole.

You love me for it, Zayn tells him, and kisses him again as he opens the door.

Theyre greeted by a resounding round of applause, led by Marta, whos standing in the doorway
to the kitchen, significantly more flushed than when Harry saw her last. Zayn rolls his eyes.

Oh, fuck off, all of you, he announces, and pulls Harry with him into the group of people.
Now get us something to drink.

Harry leans down, so he can murmur right into Zayns ear. Youll need to hydrate, he agrees,
his hand sliding around Zayns waist to keep him close. Once everyone leaves, youre not
leaving that room for days.

Zayn swears under his breath, and Harry buries his laugh in Zayns neck. Who cares what anyone
thinks. He fits right here.

End Notes

Liked it? Want to discuss? Comment or come chat on tumblr!

Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!
 Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at
http://download.archiveofourown.org/works/6804814.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Relationship: Zayn Malik/Harry Styles
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - After
College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, 5+1 Things,
Established Relationship, Frat Boy Harry, Hipster Zayn
Series: Part 3 of Not Your Baby
Stats: Published: 2016-05-10 Words: 7268

Take It Off, Baby

by StormDancer

Summary

Five articles of clothing Harry can't wait to take off Zayn, and one he wants to put back
on.

Notes

Another installment in the Not Your Baby 'verse! Takes place after Baby Be Mine, but
around Baby I'm Yours. You should probably read those first or else I don't think this will
make much sense? Definitely Baby Be Mine.

And if I get anything wrong in section 4, I'm sorry--tell me and I'll correct it, but Harry's as
white as I am, so he won't be 100% correct either. I as the author do not condone all
thoughts had in this fic.

None of the images are mine either!

Enjoy!

See the end of the work for more notes

1
It started as a joke. The brothers had presented the jacket to Zayn as his birthday present, and
Zayn had laughed when he opened it, turned what looked like a maroon silk bomber jacket so
Harry could see what was on the back.

Not your baby, Harry had read the embroidered letters, and he was laughing too, because he got
the joke as well as the rest of them. Zayns constant refrain.

In case you ever forgot, Niall had told Harry, and then Zayn was putting on the jacket and Liam
had been insisting Zayn show him the comics hed gotten.

It had still been a joke, as Zayn wore it the rest of the night, at his I dont want a birthday party
party, where the brothers had taken his protests to mean that he wanted a slightly lower key party
and Zayn had accepted it with good enough grace. The jacket shimmered in the light, gleaming
red, and the contrast of it against Zayns skin was something Harry could look at for hours. That,
and Zayns laugh as he talked with Niall, the way he really seemed to be enjoying himself.
Relaxing, in a way he doesnt often get, with Harrys friends.

Thenthen they were upstairs, and Zayn had ducked up a few moments before Harry because
Harryd gotten caught in a conversation with Louis, and Harry was walking into his room and it
isnt a joke anymore. Not when Zayns lying on the bed, his eyes glinting. The blankets are pulled
up, just over his hips so theyre bisecting the tattooed heart, and the jackets still onand thats it.
Nothing else.

Harry shuts the door behind him. That was fast.

Its my birthday, Zayn tells him. Hes a little drunk, his cheeks flushed just enough that the
jacket seems to bring out the red there even more. Im allowed to do what I want.

Really? Harrys not sure Zayn ever does anything but what he wants. Hes not sure he could
ever say no to Zayn, with how hes grinning at Harry, his gaze daring, that jacket bringing out the
red of his lips. Not your baby, it says, and Harry knows thats trueZayns not his. Not in any
real way. Zayns his own, bold and brilliant and freestanding.

But right now, hes got that hot look as he looks at Harry, and Harry smirks as he approaches
Zayn, climbing onto his legs. Are those the rules? he asks, watching as Zayns eyes go dark. He
slides his hands up Zayns torso, under the jacket.

Yes. Zayn tells him, surely. And now what I want is you.

Demanding, baby, Harry purrs. His hands are next to Zayns head now, pushing him back
down against the blankets.

Not your Harry cuts him off with his lips, kissing him hard and demanding, grinding his hips
against Zayns until Zayns squirming under him, his hands in Harrys hair, just as demanding as
Harry.

What was that, baby? Harry asks, biting his way down Zayns neck. Not hard enough to mark,
but hard enough they feel like they will. You had something to say?

Fuck off, Zayn mutters, and his fingers are digging into Harrys shoulders now. Like Zayns
gotten his claws into Harry. Fuck off, and just fuck me.

Only because its your birthday, Harry tells him. He runs his hands down Zayns side, under the
jacket. Not my baby, are you? Hes not, and Harry knows it; knows that for all its a joke
Zayns not his. Not in any way that counts. Zayns his own, so amazingly blazingly his own, and
Harry can just hold on as long as he can.

No, Zayn mutters, and Harry bites at his neck, as he flicks at Zayns hardening nipples, so
Zayns head thunks back and he swears. Harry.

What was that? Harry teases, and mouths down Zayns stomach, over his navel, down to his
hips. He loves Zayn like this, when his fierceness boils down to demanding, when Harry can get
him to do whatever Harry says, for once.

Hurry up, Zayn tells him, as Harry bites at his thighs, avoiding his cock because he can. Its
my birthday, I want birthday sex.

Im giving you birthday sex, Harry points out.

I want you to fuck me, Zayn demands, and Harry laughs as he kisses at Zayns hipbone,
pushing down enough that hell stop Zayn from moving. Hell give Zayn what he wants. But on
his terms, too.

Patience, baby.

Harry
Roll over, Harry orders, pulling away from Zayn enough to pat at his hip. Zayn does without
hesitation, rolling over onto his stomach, and Harrys breath catches again. The jacket looks even
better like this, how it ends right above his ass, how the red shines. How the words look like a
taunt.

Harry presses his lips to the base of Zayns spine, then eases apart his legs. Zayns gone still,
realizing whats going to happen.

Good? Harry asks, his lips brushing against Zayns skin.

Fuck. Yeah. Zayns already sounding breathy, and Harry grins. One daymaybe today,
though he doesnt think Zayns sober enough for ithell get Zayn to lose his voice completely,
get him so loud hell be hoarse for days.

Harry doesnt give Zayn more warning, before he drags his tongue over Zayns hole. Zayn makes
a sound like a moan, maybe like a whine, and his hips rock back into Harry already. Harry stills
them with his hands, then goes to work.

He teases still, because its the most fun, licking around Zayns hole, until Zayns swearing at
Harry and Harry cant hold out any longer. He pushes in then, and Zayn definitely moans this
time, squirming against Harrys hands. Harry keeps going, fucking his tongue in, as Zayn mutters
wordlessly into the pillows. Its one of the hottest things Harrys ever seen, how Zayns turned
into a mess like this, how hes begging Harry to please, justplease

Finally, when Harry thinks hes going to explode too, he starts adding fingers, opening Zayn up
until hes fucking himself back on Harrys fingers.

Harrys graceless as he sheds his clothes then, because teasing Zayn is always a two way street
it gets Zayn like this, tense and trembling under Harrys hands, so utterly focused on Harry and
loud with it, but its torture for Harry too. They both groan as Harry pulls Zayn back onto all
fours, as he sinks slowly into Zayn.

Yes, please, Harry, come on, Zayns saying, a mess of words and Harrys name, and Harry
does as hes told. He fucks Zayn hard, as Zayn fucks himself back at the same rhythm, and
Harrys had a lot of sex but somehow its different with Zayn. With Zayn writhing under him,
sweat in droplets at his neck, staining the jacket just a bit. Not his baby, Harry knows, but hed
like to see someone else get Zayn to this point.

Harry leans over, wraps a hand around Zayns cock to start jerking him off as he fucks into him,
and Zayn groans, his head dropping. Come on, Harry murmurs into his ear, his voice low and
hoarse, Come for me, baby. It only takes a few more strokes before Zayn does, moaning out
Harrys name, and maybe its that that makes Harry come too, fucking into him as Zayn shudders
and tightens around him from his own orgasm.

Harry stays slumped over him as he comes down, pressing idle kisses to Zayns neck, above the
hem of the jacket.

Okay, come here, Zayn orders, at last, and Harry laughs as he pulls out of Zayn. Its Zayns
birthday, so he lets him laze around as Harry throws away the condom, gets a washcloth to clean
them off. Hes taken the jacket off when Harry comes back from throwing the washcloth into the
bin, but its lying on the floor next to the bed, the writing clear. Not your baby.

Harry lets Zayn tug him in next to him in bed, adjust them so that theyre cuddled close to each
other. Zayns breath is evening out, because hes always useless after sex, and Harry sighs, pulls
him close.
Happy birthday, baby, Harry tells him, pressing his lips to Zayns forehead idly.

Not your baby, Zayn mutters, barely awake, and Harry could laugh. He knows that. Knows
Zayn isnt his, not even close, not like Zayns caught himbut hed like to see someone else have
Zayn like this.

He does it on purpose.

Harry hums. Hes paying attention to Louis. Mainly. Other than the parts where hes watching
Zayn in the kitchen, where hes drinking his coffee and doing his thing where he tries to pretend
hes awake. Its cute, how he glares a little at his mug, like the caffeine is doing him a personal
insult by not being in his veins already. Its also cute, Harryll admit, how hes wearing what he
had pulled on before getting out of bed that morning, Harrys Delta Chi tank top and sweatpants.
Harrys pretty sure it was just the closest thing to hand, but hes not complaining, either.

Earth to Styles. Louis snaps. Hes not going to go away, Harry knows, from long experience.
Acknowledging him is the only hope hell stop.

What?

He does it on purpose. The wearing your clothes. So you dothis. Louis waves a hand at
Harry, and Harry chuckles, but doesnt look away from Zayn. Hes stretching, to rub at his neck,
and it lifts up Harrys tank top just enough to show the skin above where hes had to draw the
drawstrings tight. He doesnt think hell ever get over it, Zayn in Harrys clothes. Zayn always
takes up so much space. Its not until Harrys shirts hang long on him, until he has to tie his
sweatpants as tight as they can go, that Harry remembers hes lean, at the least. All bones and eyes
and attitude.

Or, when he wears Harrys clothes, and when Harry gets him out of them, at least.

Hes riling you up, Louiss saying.

So? Harrys not sure he is, but he doesnt care. He likes Zayn in his clothes, hes never made a
secret of it. Not since the first time, Zayn in his bed cuddling in Harrys too big sweatshirt. The
first time Harry had seen the person beneath the prickly, he thinksthe first time hed seen Zayn
blink his big eyes and smile soft and confused. The first time hed realized Zayn wasnt just the
hot hipster, but that he was cute too, softer on the inside than hed like to admit. The first time
Harry had seen Zayn with a Delta Chi symbol on himwith Harrys letters on himand realized
how much he liked it.

So, hes manipulating you. Not that I dont admire him for it, but I thought as your brother I
shouldHarry?

Harrys given up on listening to Louis, because Zayns looked up and met Harrys gaze. In an
hour, the smile hes giving Harry would be a smirk; now its just a smile, soft and pleased, even if
he does lick his lips like he knows gets to Harry.

Harry leaves Louis behind to make his way directly to the kitchen. He picks the coffee out of
Zayns grip, sets it on the counter, and settles his hands on Zayns hips, his thumb sliding under
the edge of the tank top to press against Zayns skin. Louis says youre wearing my clothes on
purpose.

Yeah? Zayns still got that knowing smile on, but hes not shifting under Harrys hands. Seems
content to stay there, close to Harry, letting the sleepy morning wrap around them. They are
pretty comfortable.

Harry decides not to call Zayn out on his hypocrisy about anything to do with frats, because thats
not conducive to what he wants. Let it never be said Harry Styles isnt goal oriented. Hm. Thats
the only reason? Reluctantly he moves a hand from Zayns hip to trace the letters on his chest.
Nothing to do with how much I like you with my letters on you?

Zayns hands are on Harrys stomach now, under his shirt. Harry wonders, idly, if Louis got gone.
Hes not sure he cares. It wont be the first time any of the brothers have seen him and Zayn like
this. Its not his fault, when his boyfriend is that hot and spends what feels like half his life either
getting Harry angry enough to fuck him or getting angry enough Harry has to fuck him to calm
him down. Zayn rises up on the balls of his feet, so he can whisper in Harrys ear.

Maybe I like your letters on me.

Harrys hand closes convulsively on Zayns hip. He doesnt have to look to know Zayn is
laughing, and again, he doesnt care. Zayns an asshole. But hes Harrys asshole, and hes
wearing Harrys clothes like he doesnt care that it looks to the whole world like hes Harrys.

Come here. Its less a request and more an order, as he tugs Zayn with him out of the kitchen,
back up to his room. Youve worn those clothes long enough.

Oh? Dont like me borrowing your stuff? Zayn chuckles, but then hes got his arms on Harrys
neck, and Harry forgets to reply in favor of kissing Zayn.
3

What is wrong with you? Harry snaps, at last. After Zayn had finished sniping at his hair, his
friends, his new job, his hometown. Why are you so pissy?

Im not. Zayn crosses his arms. If he wasnt being such an asshole, Harry would be appreciating
the sight a lot moreZayn had taken his breath away, when hed come into the house. Six
months together, longer fucking, and Harryd never seen him like this, in a suit. He looksfuck, it
looks good. Everyone looks good in a suit, Harry knows that, but Zayn wears it like he wears
everything else, like hes taking something normal and making it more. Its something in the way
the trousers cling to his legs, how the jacket broadens his shoulders. In how the crisp white against
the dark blue of it makes his eyes stand out more, draws the eyes to the ink on his hands. If he
wasnt being such an asshole, Harry would say screw dinner, screw graduation, and just keep him
here and strip each layer off him slowly, until Zayn was swearing at him to hurry up already while
Harry took his time admiring each piece of Zayn.

But he is being an asshole, and Harryhe just wants this to go well. Its his graduation dinner. Its
the first time Zayns properly meeting his family. He wants it to go well, not have Zayn being an
asshole.

You are, Harry informs him, and shuts the door to his room. Or, his room for a few more days.
Then theyre gone, Zayn home until he can find a place with Claire and Marta, Harry home until
school. They wont come back to this room after that. And Id really like my parents not to hate
you, so

Thanks, Zayn snaps. He turns to the mirror, his hand rising to fiddle with his hair before he
appears to remember he buzzed it all off a few days ago. Just what I needed. Really.

Harry stares at his back for a moment, trying to parse that out. Theyre getting late. They should
leave, if they want to meet Harrys parents on time.

But instead Harry goes to the mirror too, slides his arms around Zayns waist, hooks his chin over
Zayns shoulder. Are you nervous? he asks.

Zayns eyes are big in the mirror. Maybe its the buzz cut, maybe not. No, he snaps.

Zayn.

No, Zayn repeats. His hands are on Harrys, but not to make him let go. Just resting there.
Maybe, he admits, glancing away from Harrys gaze in the mirror. Harry hides his smile, but
its, well. A bit nice, really. Hes never seen Zayn nervous. Anxious, before a test, before an
interview, but never nervous like this. Something in Harry likes that its because of him. Because
Zayn cares enough about him to be nervous.

Meeting my parents? Harry asks, though, because thats a not very nice part of him and hed
rather Zayn in one of his good moods. His parents wont be able to resist Zayn either way, he
knows that, but he wants them to meet Zayn at his most brilliant, because he likes to show off.
Why? Ive already told them all about you, they love you.

Im not Zayn shakes his head. Im not the kind of guy a guy like you brings home to his
parents, Harry.

We arent home, Harry points out, and catches Zayns elbow before it can dig into his ribs.
What do you mean? he amends.

Zayn rolls his eyes. The tattooed working class Pakistani Muslim kid? You know exactly what
Im talking about.

Thats bullshit. Its Harrys turn to roll his eyes. And you know it. They arent like that.

That youve seen. People can change, when theyre faced with

Harrys heard enough of Zayns neuroses. He turns Zayn around, so he can properly meet his
eyes, and presses his fingers to Zayns lips. Thats bullshit and you know it, he repeats. My
moms over the moon about my brilliant boyfriend. Robin asked me five thousand times if Im
sure youll find something to eat at the restaurant, or if we should choose somewhere else. I think
theyre more worried you wont like them. Zayns making his mutinous face, but Harry doesnt
move his hand. Sometimes Zayn needs to just be shut up so Harry can talk him down. Theyre
going to love you, and you know that. Whats really wrong?

He moves his hand so Zayn can talk. Zayn scowls at his hand, then at Harry. Thats not
enough?

Zayn.
I dont always make the best first impression.

You made a good first impression on me.

Because you wanted to fuck me. Not exactly the one I mean to have on your parents.

Zayn. Harry sighs, and rubs his thumb over Zayns cheekbone. The buzzcut made them stand
out even more. He misses Zayns hair, how nice it was to get a hand in it, to run his fingers
through it, but he likes the buzzcut too, how it brings out the delicacy of his features and somehow
makes him look harder too. Though its not like Harry has any say in what Zayn does with his
hair. Stop BSing. Whats wrong?

I Zayn shakes his head. Its graduation. Everythings changing. Two months, Harry. At
least. What are we supposed to do for two months? What if

Skype sex, Harry interrupts him. Hes been trying not to think about that, if hes being honest
trying not to think about the impending separation. Trying not to think about Zayn so far away.
About what Zayn will think about him, when they arent close enough to touch. When its just
him and his hipster friends, who sit around making fun of people like Harry. Ill have to get you
off with just my voice, telling you what to do, what Ill do to you. He gets his hands on Zayns
ass, because it looks really good in this suit, and he needs to take opportunities when he can.
Zayns gaze is going dark, the restlessness turning into something else. I bet youll love it, Harry
goes on, letting his voice go low and rough. Hell remind Zayn of what they have every day over
those two months if he has to. Remind him what Harry can give him. You do love my dirty
mouth, dont you, baby?

Zayn shivers, his mouth gaping open just enough for Harry to kissthen he yanks himself away.
Screw you. I cant meet your parents worked up.

Harry glances at his watch. Theyve got a little time. Maybe. Hell taking being a bit late for Zayn
in that suit. For Zayn out of that suit. Then well have to take care of that, wont we? he purrs,
and Zayn makes a sound that might be a growl and tugs Harry in by the lapels.

4
Harrys never seen Zayn like this. In a number of wayshes never seen him quite this light, this
easy, as now, surrounded by his family, one of his little cousins on his lap and grinning at him as
he tries what looks like a magic trick. Harryd never quite realized how much tension Zayn carried
with him until he let it go; until he was in a place where he didnt think there was any threat.

And then theres the other thing. Hed watched Zayn get dressed this morning, in Zayns
childhood bedroom, as Zayn drew on the gold pants and shining red jacketa sherwani, Zaynd
explained, meeting Harrys eyes hard in the mirror, like he was daring him to make a joke or a
comment. Harrys only comment then, as now, would be about how much he loved Zayn in that
brilliant red, in the gold that matched his eyes in some lights. Its not exoticizing, which Zayns
yelled at Liam for before, when hed said something about a Bollywood movie Zaynd bullied
them into watching. Or at least, Harry doesnt think it is. Harry thinks its just admiring his
beautiful boyfriend, in clothing hes never seen before, that expresses a part of Zayn that hed
never really been exposed to.

He feels out of place here, in his dark suit. Zaynd said itd be fine, that thered be other people in
suits at the reception, and there arebut it hadnt been like any wedding Harryd ever been too.
Maybe this is how Zayn always feels. Like a bird with conspicuously different feathers.

But he cant object, cant care, because hes never seen Zayn smile so brightly, as when hes
talking with his cousins. With the family he loves so fiercely, that Harrys heard story after story
about, Zayn bragging about each one of his cousins, what theyve done. His smiles as golden as
his clothes, as bright.

Dont want to dive in? Jawaad appears beside Harry. His sherwanis a deep blue.

Harry gives him his best neutral smile. Jawaads the only other person here his age he knows, but
he doesnt even know him that well. Hed kept to himself while they were at school, the few times
Harryd hung out with Zayn and his friends, and now hes still at school. Hed never gotten a
proper read on him, other than the stories Zayn had told him.

Not sure where to start, Harry admits.

Hell be there a while. Then the aunties are going to steal him. If youre going to save him, you
need to do it before that. Jawaad, raises an eyebrow. If youre going to save yourself, you
should do it before then. Theres plenty of inspecting you being done here, you know.

Inspecting?

Sure. Jawaad snorts. You didnt think Zayns parents were the only ones you had to impress,
did you? Everyone heres got a say.

Well, thats not nerve wracking. Even though Harry knows Zayns parents love him, and hes
confident he can get the rest of Zayns family to as well. Good thing Im a people person.

Yeah. Jawaad doesnt seem entirely impressed. At least Harry wasnt particularly trying to
charm him.

Zayn looks up from his cousin, catches Harrys eye. Hes grinning, as he mouths you alright?

Harry nods, and then the cousins tugging on Zayns arm, impatient. Zayn ducks his head to
listen.

I thought you were such a bad idea. Jawaad says suddenly. Harry manages not to jump. Hed
honestly almost forgotten Jawaad was even there. Back in school. Zayn pretends he doesnt care
but he doesnt just fuck around, you know? And I figured youd fuck him over.

You didnt have the best experience with frats, Harry agrees, neutral. He thinks Jawaad has a
point hes getting to. And its true. Hed seen Jawaad, after that whole blow up. It hadnt been
pretty.

Truth. Jawaad takes a breath. So dont fuck him over.

What? Jawaads voice is serious enough Harry turns away from Zayn to look at him. He looks
serious too, his dark eyes almost as fierce as his cousins can get. Im not.

Zayns always looked after me, yeah? Jawaad goes on, like Harry didnt say anything. After
all of us. I know hes taken a lot of shit so I dont have to, probably more than hes ever told me.
Hed do anything for people he loves, even if hell bitch about it the whole time.

I know. He does. Harry knows, and loves him for it. For every time he throws himself in front
of a bullet so someone else wont take it. Every time he lashes out for an injustice, even if its
usually not the time or place for the fight.

Yeah, well. Just remember that hes loved too. Jawaads glare is not as good as his cousins, and
Harrys stood up to that, but he gives him points for trying.
Okay.

And you might have all your frat brothers, or whatever, but Zayns got a lot of cousins. We could
take you.

Okay, Harry agrees again. Then, because he cant not. Why do you think its me whos going
to screw him over? Hes the one whos More, Harry thinks. Who contains so many multitudes
under the sharpness of his hotness. Harrys gorgeous, angry, nerd. Mercurial, Harry finishes,
with more tact than he probably needs. Zayns the one who gets angry. Zayns the one who burns
so hot. Zayns the one whos swept Harry up into him, so Harry never had a chance to escape.

Jawaad blinks, like thats a stupid question. Because Zayn doesnt mess with people he cares
about, he replies, simply. And for some reason, he cares about you. So watch it.

What are you two talking about? Harry manages not to jump when Zayn interrupts, then Zayns
chin is over Harrys shoulder, and Harry reaches up to grab the hand Zayn drapes around his neck
with both of his. Are you playing nice?

I always play nice, Harry objects. He feels like he should be offended by Zayns laugh at that,
but its hard to be offended when Zayns pressed against his back like this, when he can see
Zayns silly, carefree smile.

Thats a lie.

Fine. Harry grins back at him, purring a little. I play nice except when you dont want me to.

Way TMI. Jawaad snorts. There are children about.

I had a room next to yours. I know you know about this shit, Zayn retorts.

I didnt mean me. Jawaad shakes his head. Just keep it in your pants until Im out of earshot.
He raises a hand, then wanders away, to where more people his age seem to be gathering around a
table.

Zayn tugs his hand out of Harrys, but only goes far enough that hes in front of Harry, his hands
on Harrys waist. You okay here?

Im fine. We were having a nice chat about who would win in a fight, my frat brothers or your
cousins.

Zayn tilts his head, thinking. My cousins, definitely.

Hey! The brothers

Maliks are dangerous when angry.

Oh, trust me. I know.

Zayn rolls his eyes, but hes still got that bright smile on, his eyes sparkling in a way Harry hadnt
thought possible, before hed met Zayn. Seriously, you okay? Not too much?

Not too much. Because they are at a family event, Harry doesnt even get his hands on Zayns
ass, like he wants to. Instead, he wraps them around Zayns waist. Zayn comes easily, his hands
moving up to Harrys shoulders. Hardest part is seeing you dressed like this.

Zayns eyes narrow. What does that

Means, Harry amends patiently, and drops his voice so that hopefully only Zayn will hear him,
That I cant wait to get you out of them.

Zayn relaxes, his lips curving into a smirk. Yeah? Like the outfit?

Harry hums his agreement. Cant wait to get you back. See if you can be properly quiet, so your
family wont hear how desperate you get.

Shit, Zayn swears, and Harry gives himself an imaginary pat on the back. There really are
children here, Harry.

Not that can hear me, Harry points out, and leans down to kiss Zayn. Not my fault you look
this hot. He kisses Zayn again. He means for it to be hot, a teaser for whats to come tonight, but
it comes out more gently than he meant it. He cant help how lovely it is to see Zayn here, with his
family; how much he appreciates being allowed to see the soft underbelly of Zayn, where he lets
his guard down.

Harry Zayn blinks up at him, all big eyes and soft smilethen he drops his hands, turns
around suddenly, and Harry notices the woman coming up to them, a middle aged woman with a
fierce, determined look in her eyes that Harry vaguely recognizes.

Zayn! Who is this young man? she demands, and Zayn sighs, and grabs Harrys hand.

Hi, Auntie, he says, his back up like hes gearing up for a fight. This is my boyfriend Harry.
Be nice.

Harry squeezes Zayns hand, and gives her his most charming smile. He doesnt know what
Jawaad is talking about, how he thinks he could ever screw Zayn over. That he could ever let go
of this.

5
Hey. Zayn grins when he sees its Harry at the door, stepping back so Harry can get by him.
Come on in.

Hey. Harry pauses, but he cant not address the elephant in the room. Zayn, you do know what
youre wearing?

What? Zayn gives him a confused look, then laughs. He reaches up, adjusts the poofy pink
jeweled tiara resting on his head. It looks somehow both incongruous, compared to his old ripped
jeans and band t-shirt, and weirdly very good. Yeah, were having a tea party.

A princess tea party! Come the objection from the doorway, and Harry looks over Zayns
shoulder to see Brooklyn hovering there, a doll clutched in her arms.

A princess tea party, Zayn corrects, and scoops her up in his arms. She wraps her chubby arms
around his neck, and blinks at Harry. You remember Harry, Brook?

Yeah, she mutters, ducking her head shyly.

Hey, Brooklyn. Harry smiles, non-threatening. Nice to see you again.

Hi, she smiles back at him, just a bit of teeth.

Do you mind if he plays with us? Zayn asks her, very seriously. Do you think he could be a
princess too?

She wrinkles her nose, clearly deep in thought, then shakes her head. But youre a princess.

So? Zayn prompts. He gives Harry an apologetic look, and Harry shrugs, still smiling. Hes
mainly figuring out how he can take a picture of Zayn in the tiara and send it to all the brothers.

So, Brooklyn sighs, like its the most obvious thing in the world. Youre his princess. He cant
be a princess too.
Harry cant help his guffaw at that, and Zayn chokes out a laugh too, poking at Brooklyns
cheeks. Yeah, hes never letting Zayn live this one down. Yeah, Zayn. Youre my princess. My
pretty princess.

The glare Zayn gives Harry says very well that hes not going to get away with this scot-free, but
Harrys too amused to care. Two princesses can love each other, he tells Brooklyn, though.
Like Claire and Marta, remember?

But you arent both princesses, she corrects.

Can I come to your tea party? Harry asks, before Zayn starts trying to teach his goddaughter
social justice instead of just letting them drink tea. Even if Im not allowed to be a princess.

She gives him a wary look, then nods. Yeah.

Thank you! Harry grins at her, then glances at Zayn. Im just gonna drop my stuff in your
room.

Well get more tea, Zayn agrees, and lets Brooklyn down so they can head towards the living
room together, her hand in his.

Harry drops his bag in Zayns room, pulls out the jacket he needs to wear tomorrow before it gets
wrinkled and hangs it up on the hangers in Zayns closet hes started keeping empty. He plugs his
phone into the wall charger, then grabs one of Zayns extra hair ties to pull his back before he
leaves Zayns room to go back to the tea party.

Zayn and Brooklyn are sitting in the center of the living room, around the coffee table. Martas big
art books have been moved to the couch, and there are a few stuffed animals taking up more
places around the table. Zayns leaning over the table, listening very seriously to whatever
Brooklyns saying, as she gazes back at him with big, adoring eyes. Not even the princess crown
can make the image any less preciousor maybe it just helps.

Its been over a year and a half, and it sometimes still hits Harry, just how much he loves Zayn. It
wasnt at all what hed expected, when hed started flirting with the hot guy in his English section;
it wasnt what hed expected the first time Zayn had let Harry take him back to his room, like it
was an imposition but hed accept it. But somehow, since then, its become thisgotten to a point
when Harry watches Zayn play at a tea party with a little girl, and cant help but wonder if this is
what it would look like, if the little girl was theirs. They arent there yet, not close, butsomeday
he wonders if he could come home to this.

Come on, Harry. Your tea is getting cold.

Yeah, come on! Brooklyn echoes, and Harry laughs, and goes over to take his seat next to
Zayn. Zayns still got the crown on. Its silly, but he pulls it off. He could be a king. One that
would probably get into too many wars over stupid shit, but a king.

So, Princess Brooklyn, Harry says, before he loses himself in the imagining. In thinking about
things hes not sure Zayn is, because they dont talk about stuff like this. About the future. About
where theyre going. And Harrys happy with that, hes fine with it. He gets Zayn now, in a way
he hadnt back in school, when hed been so confused about what Zayn had felt, what they were.
He gets that for Zayn, actions speak much louder than words, and the actions say that Zayn is
having a tea party with Harry and his goddaughter. That Zayn and Harry sleep in the same bed
most nights, even when they dont have sex. That they cook together and squabble together and
make holiday plans together. Thats what matters. Can you introduce me to your subjects?
They play tea party, then they color, and then they watch Little Mermaid until Caroline comes to
pick Brooklyn up. Harrys not sure where Claire and Marta are, but apparently theyre out,
because when Caroline and Brooklyn leave its just the two of them in the apartment.

Zayn leans back against the kitchen counter, the crown still in his hair. Thanks for coming
tonight.

Of course. Harry sits at one of the barstools. Shes a great kid.

She is, Zayn agrees, with a soft smile. Shes gotten so big, though. Seems like just yesterday
she was a baby.

Thats what happens with kids. They grow up. Zayns eyes are soft, and pensive, so Harry
reaches out for his belt loops, so he can tug him between Harrys legs. Theres that whole time
thing, there.

Shut up, Zayn retorts, but hes laughing.

Oh, do I have to listen to orders from the princess? Harry asks, and Zayn makes a face.

Dont even try it.

But youre wearing a crown! Harry points out, keeping his hold on Zayns jeans as he tries to
pull away. Youre my princess, right?

Dont even try it, Zayn warns, finally stepping away, and Harry gets up too, so he can follow
him back towards Zayns room.

The prettiest princess, Harry continues, managing to get through the door before Zayn closes it,
though only just. In your pretty crown.

Zayn rolls his eyes. Stop.

What was that? Harry takes a few steps forward, so he can pin Zayn against the wall, pushing
against him. Zayns breath is harsh. You want me to keep going, princess?

Zayns laughing, which isnt entirely what Harry likes when hes got Zayn pressed against a wall,
but he can admit that the situation calls for it. Thats really horrible.

See? There are worse things I could call you, Harry tells him. It gets another chuckle from
Zayn, and his hands curl around Harrys biceps, like he always does when Harry does this. Harry
smirks. He knows what Zayn likes.

Still not your baby, he tells Harry, and then hes kissing Harry, hard. He really is the king of
mixed messages. But Harry cant bring himself to care, because now Zayns got his arms around
Harrys neck, and hes pulling himself up so Harry doesnt have a chance but to pick him up the
rest of the way. Actions, Harry reminds himself. Maybe hes not ready to say hes Harrys, maybe
he isnt even Harrys. Maybe he isnt thinking about their kids like Harry is, or at least hes not
ready to say it. But hes warm and willing in Harrys arms, kissing Harry so his brains gone, and
he smiles when Harry comes home to him.

Harry drops Zayn on the bed, then surveys him as Zayn tugs Harry down with him. Okay,
Harry decides, pulling the crown off and tossing it away. This has to go.

Thought you liked it. Zayn smirks at Harry, his hands already pulling at Harrys shirt.
I like you. It comes out more sincere than Harry had meant, enough that Zayn stops with his
palms on Harrys chest, his mouth gaping open a little as he stares at Harry.

He doesnt say it back. Doesnt say anything back. But he kisses Harry soft and sweet, his fingers
running through Harrys hair gently, and yeah. He gets it.

+1

Look what I found.

Harry sets down the last box of Zayns books, then turns to where Zayns sitting on the floor,
surrounded by all his shit. That must be one of the boxes hed decided to label random stuff
rather than actually categorize them, which clearly is coming back to bite him in the ass now, like
Harry had told him it would. If hed just labeled his stuff properly like Harry had, it would be so
much easier for him to unpack, and he wouldnt have what looked like jackets in the living room
of their new apartment.
But Harry doesnt say any of thatnot yet. Hes waiting until Zayns properly frustrated to pull
that out. Instead, he looks at what Zayns holding. Or no, what hes wearing.

Shit, you kept that? he laughs, as Zayn stands to show off the jacket hes slipped on. It looks as
good on him now as it had in college, the red standing out against his skin, even when hes messy
and frazzled from moving.

Apparently. Zayn shrugs. It was a birthday present, after all.

The boys should be pleased. Harry steps forward, strokes a hand over the silk on Zayns arm.
Their joke is lasting.

Well. Maybe I kept it for more than that. Zayn grins. That was a good birthday.

Yeah? Harry puts on his most innocent face. You get a lot of good presents?

Yours wasnt the worst, Zayn admits, sidling closer to Harry. His eyes are dark, hot. He was
probably thinking about that night, while Harry was carrying his books upstairs. Weve got a
brand new bed.

We do, Harry agrees, staying still so Zayn has to wrap himself around him, because it will never
not be fun to tease Zayn. Interesting.

The sheets are all unpacked and everything.

They are, Harry agrees, and manages to keep a straight face as Zayn snorts out a breath and
grabs Harrys face.

Take me to bed already, he demands.

Harry manages, through some great force of will, to tsk. Youre always so demanding, baby.

Not your baby, Zayn hisses, but hes backing Harry up, towards their new bedroom. Harry
sidesteps to avoid the boxes, maybe grabs Zayn so hell go faster. Their bedroom. Their bed.
Theirs. All theirs. Now are you going to christen thhe new bed, or not?

Harry makes an executive decision, and spins them so Zayns against the wall. Or we could
christen the hall, he points out, and Zayn nods, grinding his hips against Harrys.

The halls good too.

---

They do actually manage to make it to the bed, by some miracle. After, Harry watches as Zayn
walks around the roomtheir roomto pick up the jacket, from where Harry had tossed it in his
need to get Zayn naked. He brings it back to the bed, sitting on the edge as he traces the
embroidery. Its a lovely sight. One Harry gets all the time, now.

Zayn looks up, suddenly. Itsits just the baby thing, you know that right?

What? Harry has the brain power to admire how Zayn looks, to revel in their new place, and to
sleep. Thats all. Maybe they shouldnt have done this when they had more unpacking to do.
Come back here. He holds out his arms, like he can make Zayn come back just like that. He
knows he cant get Zayn to do anything he doesnt want, has long since given up on that, but he
also knows that Zayns not as hard to convince as hed once thought.
 Why I say that. Its not, like. Zayns got that crinkle between his brows, that frustrated look he
gets when he forgets a word, or has to say something he doesnt want to. Its not that were not
I am in this. Us.

Harry has to smile. Its been a joke for as long as theyd been together. Ever since Zayn had
stormed into Harrys life like a force of nature, had knocked him over completely. Since hed
swept Harry off his feet, had caught him so utterly Harry hadnt had a chance before he was
Zayns.

Somehow, I managed to figure that out by the time you agreed to move in with me, Harry
replies, and Zayn finally manages to get close enough Harry can grab his wrist, pull him back in.
Back to Harry. He ignores the face Zayns making at him, and picks up the jacket, drapes it over
Zayns shoulders. Now come back to bed. Baby, He adds, because he does love it when Zayns
eyes glint like that, when he makes that angry face.

Not your baby, he mutters, poking at Harrys chest, but he settles back onto the bed next to
Harry, their feet mixed together, his head against Harrys shoulder.

Harry presses his lips to Zayns temple. Hes gotten better, at learning to read what Zayn does, not
what he says. Theyre lying in their bed, in their apartment, and Zayns kissing Harrys skin idly,
soft and warm against him. Whatever you say.

End Notes

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