Chapter Text
Pausing for a moment, his fist only inches from the stained mahogany, Zayn bit the edge of his lower lip as he once again felt the need to ponder his decision to knock on this door. Maybe it was the perfectly trimmed hedges that did it for him, maybe the slight smell of a Crockpot dinner wafting underneath the crack in the front door. Maybe it was the fact that he could just barely make out music coming from inside. But this house felt right.
Breathing out, he finally allowed himself to bridge the gap between his hand and the wood. Having already practiced what he was going to say at least fifty times, he shouldn’t have been nervous. That didn’t mean he couldn’t feel his heart racing, though, as the sound of footprints–accompanied by the sound of singing–came closer and closer. The door swung open, Zayn only able to catch the belting of “–Y wonderwall” before the singer, a shirtless, blonde man, abruptly closed his wide-open mouth. Zayn’s eyes immediately scrolled down, noting his abs but catching on his happy trail.
“Sorry,” the man stammered, his face flushing. “I’m expecting a friend to drop by, and so, I just assumed, you know…” A gulp caught in his throat as he looked down his own body, realizing his attire was also potentially not appropriate for a fellow he’d never met before. “Anyway…” he finished, rubbing his hands along his thighs. A smile grew on his lips, crinkles forming by his eyes as he did so. The sight infectiously forced Zayn to smile back, his initial worry replaced by a feeling of curiosity. “I’m Liam.” He stuck out his hand, very proper like. Zayn smirked, but took his hand anyway. “You must be the new neighbor, right?”
Zayn nodded, gulping as he tried to find the right words when all he could seem to focus on was the wall of abs in front of him. “Yeah, I’m Zayn.” Taking a breath in, he forced himself to bring his eyes up to Liam’s face as he clarified, “But that’s actually kinda why I’m here, mate. My house is gonna get renovated for a couple of weeks cause it’s really not livable right now. Mold and stuff, you know.” With a flick of his wrist, he continued on. “And I’m an artist, and don’t really have a lot of money…” He scratched his head, not able to keep his eyes on Liam’s. The thought of having to ask such a favor hurt Zayn immensely. “But I was wondering if you maybe had an extra bedroom I could rent just for a bit?”
Sensing Zayn’s discomfort, Liam ushered him inside. Running into the kitchen to check on his main dish, he scoffed, “Oh, no, no, no. I won’t hear of it. Having company is more than enough for me, honestly.”
Following closely behind, Zayn took in a deep breath to argue with him. Before he was able to say anything, though, Liam interrupted him, giving him a hard look. “Nuh uh, you can make me something if you really feel the need to pay me back.”
“Fine,” Zayn grumbled, already figuring out that it was no use to argue with him. It seemed Liam’s hospitality was not up for grabs.
“I do have to warn you, though,” Liam finished, pulling out a spoon to taste the sauce brewing in the Crockpot. “Little James has bloody bad sleeping habits still.” Raising his eyebrows, a laugh erupted from his body as he gestured with his head to the nearby crib.
His curiosity getting the best of him, Zayn tiptoed over to the crib, sticking his head just far enough in to catch a glimpse of the baby boy that looked strikingly like Liam. “I don’t mind,” he breathed, his eyes widening at the sight.
**************
Not allowing Liam to help with his precious art supplies, Zayn delicately carried the stash into the unassuming bedroom, Liam not far behind with Zayn’s small suitcase of clothes and personal items. “It’s a little secluded,” Liam noted after they’d walked about as far away from the rest of the house as physically possible. “Should be a bit more peaceful for you, though,” he added, setting the suitcase down gently at Zayn’s feet. Stifling a yawn, Liam cleared his throat. Shuffling out of the room, he called out, “I better go get James ready for ‘bed’.” The obvious air quotes behind his voice lent Zayn to laugh out loud, already realizing that he had chosen the right house to knock at.
After he left, Zayn settled himself in, deciding to give Liam some space for the night. After all, they had just met. He laid out on the mattress in an attempt to calm his nerves, sighing as he tried to put Liam out of his mind. Before Zayn knew it, though, he was waking up, not even aware that he had fallen asleep. Yawning and stretching out as the sunlight filled his windows, he furrowed his eyebrows as he thought about the night before. He was surprised that he hadn’t woke up, surprised that even his deep-sleeping self would have been able to sleep through a loud newborn. Maybe Liam got lucky and James did better than expected, he mused, sliding open his bedroom door to try to find the kitchen again. After accidentally stepping into many other rooms–but finding the bathroom, at least–Zayn finally reached his destination. Liam was already in there, staring emptily at the coffeemaker, now wearing a red robe and slippers. “A watched coffeepot never brews,” Zayn joked, and Liam started at the sound.
“Oi, Zayn, sorry. I didn’t see ya there,” Liam sighed. After a moment of silence, he exclaimed, “Oh! Feel free to have a gander at anything in the kitchen.” At the suggestion, Zayn raised his eyebrows at Liam. “You can make me a really nice art piece,” Liam smiled as he went to turn off the coffeemaker but instead set the clock on it.
Not wanting to comment on Liam’s obvious zombie-like state, Zayn opened the fridge in an attempt to satiate his growling stomach. “Wow, you eat really… Healthy,” Zayn noted, his voice in awe at all of the fruits and vegetables. He had never seen so much green in his life.
“Well, you know, an apple a day keeps the doctor away!” Liam exclaimed cheerfully, waving his arm in the air but, in the process, spilling coffee from the mug he had just filled.
“We’re just full of clichés today, huh?” Zayn chuckled, feeling like he had just set foot into a 1950’s set. “How about I make you breakfast?” He was afraid that if he even handed Liam a bowl, it would be lying on the ground, shattered, in seconds.
“I’ll allow it,” Liam mumbled, finally allowing himself to sit at the breakfast nook. When he thought Zayn wasn’t looking, he began to rub his aching temple. It seemed his body was truly trying to prove to him the importance of a good night’s sleep. “Thanks,” Liam smiled as Zayn eventually placed a bowl of hot oatmeal in front of Liam.
Zayn grabbed his own bowl, setting it on the table next to Liam as he came to sit next to him. “Don’t thank me. Save your energy,” Zayn teased as he took a sip of his own coffee.
Liam’s eyes glazed over for a few minutes as he absentmindedly ate his oatmeal. Zayn thought about making small talk with him, but didn’t want to disturb the few seconds of peace that Liam got. Finally glancing at the clock after he finished breakfast, Liam cried out something about how he was going to be late. Racing up the stairs, he left Zayn all alone when suddenly the doorbell rang. Hesitantly, Zayn shuffled over to the front door. Looking through the peephole, he saw a nice looking college-aged girl. Sighing, he opened up the door, not sure whether to expect her to try to sell him something he didn’t need or to have her deliver flowers. “Hi!” The lady said immediately as he swung the door open. “I’m Clarissa.” When Zayn didn’t respond, she clarified, “The nanny.”
Of course. There was no way Liam could have a full time job without her. “Hi,” he smiled. “Come on in.” Motioning her inside, he introduced himself as he avoided the fact that he was still in his pajamas. Realizing that she was waiting for him to take her to where James was, Zayn realized he didn’t know. He hadn’t seen him all morning. “I’m guessing he’s in his room,” he shrugged. As they climbed the stairs, they heard sounds of wails from the bedroom as well as a quiet shushing. “Well, at least he slept for a couple of hours this time,” Liam breathed as the two walked into the room.
“Liam,” Clarissa scolded. “You’re gonna be late. It’ll be fine,” she chided him as she took James from his arms. As he continued to look at James longingly for a moment longer, she waved him away. “Go.”
“Okay, okay, you’re right,” he said, finally giving in. As he finished tying his tie and smoothing down his suit, he turned to Zayn. “You’ll be alright?”
“I’ll be fine, Liam,” Zayn smiled. ‘Don’t worry about me.” Nodding once, Liam furrowed his eyebrows for a moment before he finally raced down the stairs and out the door. Once he finally left, Zayn spent the day working on his drawings, the whole time listening in on James’ laugh and Clarissa’s cooing.
Later that evening, after Liam had finally made it home—and with dinner, too—he had turned the TV on to some family sitcom. Chuckling at himself, Zayn pulled out his sketchbook again. But Liam was the sort of person you could sit and do nothing with, and it would still feel like one of the best nights of your lives. And it seemed that was what Liam had planned.
Not knowing exactly what his plan was, Zayn started by outlining the surroundings. The good-sized flat screen TV hooked to the wall, the mahogany coffee table in the center of the room, the two leather couches they were both sitting on. Eventually, though, his still life sketch turned into a portrait, starting with Liam’s eyes, light brown with crinkles tucked around every corner. All because of the almost omnipresent smile on his face, the laugh bubbling out from behind his lips more times than Zayn could count. More often than he’d like to admit, Zayn would catch his lips upturning into a little smile whenever Liam’s would. Because of that, it seemed the face was the easy part to draw.
It was Liam’s toned body that ended up giving him more trouble. Trying to portray his biceps accurately, the muscles poking out from his short-sleeved shirt, proved to be a challenge. Adding the tattoos was even more difficult. He didn’t want to miss any single detail, didn’t want to mess up anything. Finally reaching the four chevrons tattoo, Zayn was deep in concentration, his eyebrows heavily furrowed, when Liam cleared his throat.
Looking up suddenly with wide eyes, Zayn saw Liam had a small smirk on his face. “I said…” He (apparently) repeated. “I better head to bed now, try to get a few hours of sleep before little Jamesie gets to me.” Blinking twice and giving a small nod, Zayn didn’t say anything, still in a bit of a haze.
“I’ve been falling asleep over here,” he chuckled. Standing up from the couch, as he sauntered over to where Zayn sat, he mumbled, “Not that you would’ve noticed.”
Zayn felt his face flush a bit at the comment. Pausing for a moment, Liam’s eyes catching on the drawing, he turned to walk out of the room. Giving Zayn a quick glance before he opened the door, he called out behind him, “By the way? It looks good.”
Zayn’s smile was larger than it probably should have been, his hands still absentmindedly shading the chevrons as he gave a quick thank you. Once he finished with the arm—and no longer had his model for reference, anyway—he pulled himself up off the couch, tiptoeing up the stairs and into James’ room. Scanning the room and finding only a solitary rocking chair, he let out a little sigh as he shut the door behind him. But Liam needed sleep more than he did, that much he was sure of. Quietly setting the sketchbook down on the floor, he curled up into the rocking chair as best he could. Letting himself close his eyes, he nodded off to sleep—while he still had the chance.
**************
At a quarter before seven, Liam woke with a start, his heart pounding as he realized he had slept the whole night through. Why hadn’t James woken him up? Was he alright? What if his blanket got wrapped up around him? What if he couldn’t breathe? Liam’s breath was caught in his throat, the mere idea giving him a fright.
Racing out of the room, he stopped right before James’ door, startled by the closed door. Eyebrows raised, he slowly turned the knob, afraid of what he would find. His eyes first caught sight of Zayn, whose legs were sticking out through the gaps in the sides of the rocking chair. His head was awkwardly leaning against the arm of the wooden chair, a few stray hairs curled up onto his forehead.
A little smile on his lips, Liam slipped over to James’ crib, only to find him sound asleep and, well, breathing. At Liam’s movements, James’ eyes fluttered open, his wide mouth giving away his soon-to-be scream. Picking him up before he could do so, he rocked James up and down, humming softly to him as he paced the room. His eyes landing on the sketchbook, he felt his curiosity overtake his common sense. Carefully, gently, using the edge of his foot, Liam attempted to flip open the sketchbook. As his movements became more fervent, his attempts unsuccessful, Liam heard a low grumble from the rocking chair. “Curious, eh?” Knowing he had been caught, he glanced up at Zayn, giving him a sheepish look.
“I was gonna let you sleep,” Liam sighed, avoiding Zayn’s comment. “Just like you did for me.”
Zayn shook his head, by now realizing that if he wanted to do something for Liam, he’d have to fight for it. “You’re letting me stay here, Liam,” Zayn reminded him. Raising his eyebrows at him, he added, “The very least I’m gonna do is let you get some goddamn peace and quiet.”
Aware that he wasn’t going to win this one, Liam pursed his lips. “Alright,” he finally agreed. Taking James with him, he begun to head out, knowing that Zayn would only agree to his next request if he didn’t have the chance to argue. Stopping at the doorway, his hand against the door frame, he turned his head around to face Zayn. “But I can’t have you sleeping in that rocking chair. Not good for the chair, you know.” He gave Zayn a small wink—so small, if he had blinked, he would have missed it. Leaving the room, he finished, “There’s room for two in my bed.”
**************
Zayn woke up to the sound of screaming, his ear more attuned to it now after a few days of being around James. At some point in the night, it seemed Liam had curled up next to Zayn, his arm slung over Zayn’s shoulder. Giving Liam’s sleeping face a little smile, he gently lifted himself away from Liam, careful not to disturb him. He snuck out of the covers, stealing one final glance before he went to check up on James.
When the next morning finally came, Liam woke up to the smell of bacon. Real bacon. He opened his eyes, his stomach sinking when he realized that the bed was empty. It eerily reminded him of before Zayn had come, and it left him feeling cold and empty. Sighing at the thought of Zayn inevitably leaving soon, Liam slid into his slippers, going to check on James in an attempt to block the thought from his mind. He didn’t want to think about having to be a single dad again, in a King sized bed all on his own. In a house that had too many unfilled rooms, all in a row to remind him of how quiet and lonely it was. Seeing that the crib was empty, Liam moved to the kitchen, having a feeling where he would find James. Accidentally stumbling upon Zayn belting out an r & b solo while James raspberried along in his arms, Liam hid in the doorway for a moment. As he watched James grin, his eyes bright, the thought dawned on him that it wouldn’t be just him who would miss Zayn when he left.
Zayn was stirring the bacon to the beat of James’ “backup”, Zayn’s face more lit up than Liam had ever seen. In fact, Liam couldn’t remember a time when he had seen anyone look so content. Finally walking into the room, Liam smiled at James when he caught his eye. “Hey, babe,” he cooed, tapping him on the nose just to watch him scrunch it up.
As Liam made a face at James, Zayn interrupted, smirking, “So, guess what happened last night?” Liam’s attention immediately shifted from James over to Zayn after seeing his expression, their faces close.
“Oh no,” Liam groaned. “What is it? Did I do something?”
A laugh escaping Zayn’s mouth, he just nodded a bit, a smile dancing on his lips. “I woke up to you all cuddled up next to me. Basically intertwined.” He mimicked Liam’s almost fetal position. “I didn’t take you for the big spoon type.” As Zayn quirked his eyebrow, his eyes twinkling, Liam suddenly felt the air between them growing thick. He felt like he was in a dream where he wanted to move, to run, to do something, but he was stuck in slow motion. It didn’t seem that Zayn was having that same problem, though. His face slowly inched closer to Liam, until their foreheads were almost touching. Shrugging nonchalantly, Zayn said quietly, “Guess I was wrong.” Blinking once, Zayn spun his head back around to focus on the bacon that was already beginning to burn.
**************
Soon, the two of them had settled in. The whole thing began to seem natural. Routine. Liam would mumble “I’ll get him” and about half of the time Zayn would put his arm against his chest as if to remind him, no. I can help. Neither of them slept, not really, just took occasional naps in between screams. But at least they were next to each other, could feel the other one’s steady breathing, the rise and fall of the mattress. In someone else’s house, Zayn had never felt more at home. He would have never thought that would have happened. He had always enjoyed living alone, enjoyed the peace and silence.
But now, he knew it would just feel empty. Shallow. Like a puddle that was deep enough to splash around in, but not quite deep enough to drink from. It already hurt like hell, and he hadn’t even left yet.
As the days passed, seemingly getting shorter and shorter as his time to leave grew nearer, Zayn’s stomach grew into tighter knots. He had been incessantly waiting for Liam to do something—anything—after that day in the kitchen, but so far, nothing. Maybe Zayn had pushed it too far, too fast. But he had sensed that moment in the silence, where a few seconds felt like minutes, where his breath felt hollow and his heartbeat pushed against his chest so hard he thought it might burst out. He had sensed it… hadn’t he?
**************
Zayn had slowly packed his things, not ready to leave behind the only place he had ever felt comfortable. Helping Zayn with his bags as he made small talk, Liam tried to avoid the growing lump in his throat. He was going to miss his chance right here, his time to ask Zayn to stay. For James. For him. For whatever reason Zayn wanted to stay. Liam didn’t give a damn why as long as it meant he woke up next to Zayn.
Now at the door, all of his things piled in the entryway, Zayn wasn’t quite sure what to say. Apparently, he meant nothing more to Liam than a mate, a neighbor who had spent a couple of weeks at his house while his was being remodeled. Not wanting to overstep his boundaries—because Liam had made it clear by not doing anything that Zayn already had—he began to head out the door. “Maybe I could, you know,” Zayn started, feeling a sudden lightheadedness come over him. “Come and visit…” He gulped, already knowing how he should end the sentence but not wanting to. “James sometime.”
Liam’s face fell at Zayn’s words, but then in a flash—before Zayn was even able to process it—the look was gone, suddenly replaced by a grin. “I’d like that,” Liam replied, his own heart pounding so hard he felt it pumping through his whole body.
Feeling his cue to exit as the silence grew, Zayn grabbed his bags. Turning away, his feet heavy as they started to descend down the stairs, Liam’s voice gave him pause. “But, you know…” He started, his voice a little shaky. “I’d rather you visit me.” The words came out in a whisper, but Zayn heard every syllable, heard the inflection behind every single word.
Gently setting his bags onto the ground, he flipped around so he was facing Liam. “You would, would you?” Zayn’s voice sounded more surprised than he meant to let on. Only able to nod, Liam moved his head up and down slowly. He hadn’t thought this far ahead.
“Well, if you’d rather,” Zayn replied nonchalantly, his voice low. “I suppose, I—“ He climbed a stair. “Could—“ Another. “Do—“ Now he was back onto the porch, face to face with Liam. With every step, Liam felt his breath suck in further and further, until he was completely breathless.
“That,” Liam finished in a whisper, his eyes locked on Zayn’s. Leaning in, his mouth found Zayn’s, giving him a gentle kiss. Zayn’s hand found its place against Liam, his thumb resting against Liam’s jaw, the rest of his fingers hovering over the crook in his neck. Liam pressed against Zayn’s lips harder as he flashed back to all the times he had thought about kissing him. But that had always been the problem. He was the thinker, the overanalyzer. The what-ifs always stopped him in his tracks. But that had never seemed to stop Zayn. And to Liam, that was perfect.
Suddenly, too soon, a whine traveled down the stairs, and Liam pulled back. “Damn,” he breathed, already missing the feeling of Zayn’s lips against his.
Zayn smirked, rubbing his thumb lightly against Liam’s cheek before finally replying, “Don’t worry. I live right next door, remember?” A sigh left Liam’s mouth as the whining continued. “You better go.” Zayn gave Liam a little half smile, leaning in to give him a quick peck on the lips. As Zayn gestured to the stairs, Liam finally turned on his heel, sprinting up the stairs with a sudden burst of energy—seemingly a little too much bounce in his step to be going to calm a crying baby.