Chapter Text
“Zayn, my dear lad! Here at last! Almost started to think you weren’t coming, mate.”
“Hi, Louis. Had to see what these famed ‘orgies’ of yours are like, I guess.”
“Don’t you go air-quoting this party, my friend, no room for skeptics or wet blankets here. You’re going to enjoy yourself, you’ll see. Get in, mingle, soak up the atmosphere and loosen your muscles! Our revels master has all sorts of wicked things planned for tonight.”
Zayn gave his friend - acquaintance, really - a humouring smile and ventured dutifully further inside the lofty industrial hall that housed the wildest, craziest parties in all of Yorkshire, allegedly. There were people everywhere you looked in various states of drunkenness, and the near-darkness made the atmosphere claustrophobic. Zayn could see absolutely no one he could have claimed to have ever seen in his life, but that was no wonder. This wasn’t exactly his scene. The only reason he was here was because of his connection to Louis, whom he knew back from school. They’d been sort of close then, sat together in classes and such, and when they’d bumped into each other a few days ago, all the flooding nostalgia had made Zayn agree to come and see what Louis’s current livelihood was all about. Of course he’d heard about the Office before, but realizing that someone he actually knew ran the place was something of a shock. Sure, Louis had been a tad wild back in their school days, but Zayn had always assumed he’d rather pursue a career in films or theatre; the boy had spent far more time cracking jokes and coming up with clever little sketches for the school drama club than he had paying attention in Economics.
It occurred to Zayn now, as he aimlessly waded his way through the shadowy sea of people, that perhaps Louis had expected him to have turned out rather different, as well. Back in school Zayn’d been part of a notorious (or revered, depending on who you asked) gang of pranksters and the singer in an emo band whose members wore eye-liner, bracelets and studded belts with their uniform trousers. And since Louis and him had never really hung out after school, the lad had never seen the utterly normal and boring and different Zayn that he turned into at home. The Zayn who liked Boyz II Men instead of Bullet for My Valentine and spent his weekends reading actual novels instead of just comic books; the Zayn learned to read the Qur’an and loved helping his grandma, daadi, fill samosas with coconut, banana and cardamom. He wondered if he should feel guilty about having kept such big parts of his life to himself.
No matter. He’d come here out of curiosity and for a slight change in routine; it was unlikely he would continue to keep in touch with Louis afterwards. Perhaps he ought to have brought along a friend, though; he was starting to feel rather awkward walking around on his own like this, especially when he stuck out somewhat. His was probably the only non-dyed hair in the entire building and, unlike most of the other people present, he could have worn his current outfit to a public park and not get stared at. It didn’t bother him greatly, though, getting looks now: he hadn’t suffered from low self-esteem since his teens and was (humbly) aware of the fact that most people nowadays staring his way did it because they liked what they saw. He did mind not being able to locate wherever drinks were being sold, though. While he didn’t really have a stomach for alcohol, he would have liked a small dose of something relaxing to ease him into the atmosphere.
Just as Zayn was starting to weigh up his fellow party-goers for someone coherent enough to point him in the right direction, a microphone screeched on and a booming male voice resounded from the speakers:
“It is now 11 pm and the doors are closed to any newcomers! All those hearing me now are of course free to leave any time you wish, darlings. And some of you will. But those who stay, hold on to your love handles and secure your flying goggles. Because this- is the OFFICE! And the first game of the night begins- NOW!”
The crowd cheered and wolf-whistled in drunken delight and there was an explosive noise. Suddenly Zayn found himself amidst a thick rain of streamers of some sort, and a hand landing on his shoulder made him jump.
“Well then, Zayn, how’re you doing so far?” It was Louis. “Uh, fine. But... what am I-“ “My apologies, Nialler seems to have forgotten to tell the rules. Mostly people have the games memorized already. You are participating, aren’t you?”
Zayn looked around, realizing that people were tying the streamers they’d caught around their heads as blindfolds. The blaring techno had given way to a slower, r&b track (Usher, he noted distractedly), and any talking was done in low voices and hushed whispers. He knew what it looked like, but surely...
“Tell me the rules first,” he said, reluctantly accepting the streamer Louis was handing his way.
“Right. Basically, you put that on and start moving about to the music until it stops. Then you just shimmy up to whoever is closest to you and... do whatever you feel like doing. When the music starts, you move on again.”
Zayn stared at him in shock. “Oh my god, it really is an orgy.”
Louis rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Well, wouldn’t go that far. Most people settle for a round of frenching, copping a feel, that sort of thing. If you want to go further than that, you either take it somewhere else or exchange contact info.” He shrugged.
“What about the other games?” Zayn asked suspiciously, evading a small woman with neon-coloured braids who reached blindly for his bum as she danced past him.
Louis clicked his tongue. "Some are naughtier than others. Tonight is rather standard, a mixed batch of old favourites, really. Nothing that requires you to participate if you don't want to,” he added seeing Zayn’s face. “So, what say you? Let go for a night?”
Zayn bit his lip and eyed the crowd and fiddled with the streamer, but there was no escaping it. He was back in school, facing peer pressure from no other than Louis 'the Tommo' Tomlinson himself, and about to give in to it like he always had. Louis saw the answer in his face and motioned for him to turn around. Oh well, Zayn thought, as the streamer was tightened on his face, it wasn’t like he was attached or even interested in anyone particular at the moment. Maybe a harmless little snog session or two with some strangers in a club he wasn’t planning on visiting again wasn’t really such a big deal.
With a quick “good luck” and a gentle shove to his back, Louis sent Zayn into the mass of people, but he’d only managed a couple of steps before the music already paused. Unsure, he slowly felt his surroundings, and was met with a soft body that immediately shook in giggles. He drew his hands back, but the person followed and soon he could feel the soft contours of breasts push against his lower abdomen. He tried to say something, but a small hand with long nails slid confidently around his neck and tugged him down by the hair to meet sticky lips that parted to allow a slippery tongue rub playfully against Zayn's mouth. He responded instinctively, kissing her back and letting his hands wrap loosely around her firm waist. A slim thigh nudged against his hip, and her body felt smooth and supple all over. In other words, she seemed pretty much a knockout.
And yet, he couldn’t say he felt too excited at all. Was he just too old and boring for this? As a teenager this would have been many fantasies come true times a dozen. Perhaps now that the pressures of puberty no longer urged for as many conquests as possible, he’d finally started appreciating the slow-burn satisfaction of gradual seduction without even really realizing it. This was pretty much the opposite of gradual.
His partner was making happy noises into his mouth and Zayn gave her bum a dutiful squeeze in response, jumping in surprise when she did the same to him. He couldn’t help but feel paranoid and a little helpless like this, feeling like someone was observing him without him knowing it. The feeling wasn’t exactly helping him relax into his partner’s touches and when the music commenced again, he extracted himself from the woman without much regret. Whatever enthusiasm he'd had coming here had more or less evaporated now that his curiosity had been sated and he'd realized how little this was affecting him. He was already considering taking off the streamer and dropping out of the game to find Louis when a new body made contact with him from behind and a low voice whispered in his ear. “Wanna dance?”
A man. It was a man asking him for a dance and now subtly feeling up his abs with strong, blunt fingers. It had not occurred to Zayn that he might be accosted by a man. How typically short-sighted of him. “Um, I was actually just thinking of leaving.” He didn’t want to sound rude or homophobic, but he really wasn’t all that adventurous when it came to exploring his sexual orientation. Also, wasn’t it the rule that there was to be no touching until the music paused?
“Oh? Just a little twirl on the parquet, though?”
“I don’t think dancing is quite what this game is about,” Zayn protested weakly, already letting himself be pulled around and against his new partner, who appeared to be a good two inches taller than him. Zayn really wished he wasn’t so hopeless at saying no.
“No, I suppose not... I don’t come here often. And I don’t think you do either.”
It rather sounded like a variation on the classic ‘Do you come here often?’ line, and Zayn wondered exasperatedly if this man was seriously going to try and chat him up. They couldn’t even see each other! Better swerve the conversation to safer lanes before he agreed to something he'd definitely regret. "I just stopped by to see what the buzz is all about. All my friends are talking 'bout this place."
His partner hummed thoughtfully. "Mm. It's become, like, really popular recently, ever since they came up with the 'games'. I mostly just come to talk to people. I've met people of all kinds here. Like the other day I talked to a woman who bred snakes for a living. She offered me one for a reduced price. I didn't take the offer in the end, though. I just feel that snakes are, like, kind of pointless as pets. They don't really care about you, and the only time you'd have contact with them is when you feed them. You give it a mouse and that's it. The only bonding time you've got."
As the man talked, moving on from snakes to rabbits, he swayed slowly to and fro to the music, by extension making Zayn sway along as well. That combined with the low, near hypnotic timber of his voice was somehow making it hard for Zayn to interrupt him. What are you doing, man? Snap out of it. You don't have to be polite to a strange man keeping you hostage with boring pet tales. Tell 'im you're not interested and get out of this place.
Unfortunately Zayn had never been the smoothest of talkers and couldn't actually come up with anything cool and standoffish enough. "What's with the poodle hair?“ he asked instead, apparently succeeding in shocking his captor to speechlessness anyway since a silence followed and they stopped swaying. Zayn continued speaking, a little awkward now, “I mean, it's kind of ridiculous, for a guy.”
And it really was, from what he could tell without actually seeing it. He had let his hands climb up on his partner’s shoulders and neck in a semi-conscious effort to stay in control of the situation and could feel the soft brushes of bountiful curls on the backs of his palms every time the man moved his head.
To Zayn’s surprise the man erupted into laughter against him and wrapped his arms tighter around Zayn’s chest. It wasn't an obnoxious laugh, just unrestrained. Sincere. “I'm told that a lot, even by people who can see me. I’m afraid they don’t always mean it as a compliment. Especially when it's coming from blokes.”
When was 'ridiculous' ever a compliment, Zayn wondered incredulously. “Yeah, I guess that must be bit of a problem when you’re a po-“ He bit down on his tongue. What he’d almost said was probably an insult. What were the safe words again?
“A poof, you meant to say? Why do you think I’m gay?” the man asked, not sounding the least bit offended. Was he teasing? Zayn couldn’t tell; it was surprisingly hard to detect what people meant just from their voices. He realized suddenly that they had all but stopped moving and were in fact basically just standing there intimately hugging each other. If we close our eyes it could just be me and you, crooned Usher from the speakers, just to amp up the awkwardness. Zayn was just about to say something, anything to break the moment and finally extract himself from this tall, possibly gay man, when the music came to an abrupt stop. Delighted giggling and shrieks surrounded them as people helped themselves to whatever warm body was closest to them.
“I um... think I’m really going to go now,” Zayn said, not so gently prompting away the strong fingers seemingly glued to his shoulder blades.
The other man wouldn’t budge. “I insist you give me a kiss!” His voice sounded playful, but perfectly serious at the same time. “Quickly, before Louis manages to plough through to us. Let’s give him a proper reason for that reprimanding look on his face.”
“You know Louis?” Zayn managed before his head was gently angled up into a wet, hasty smooch. He was released immediately afterwards, the hands withdrawing from his back and leaving behind damp spots. It had been getting rather hot in the room. Or is it just me?
“Harold! What do you think you’re doing?” It was Louis’ voice now, coming from right next to them. “If I’d known you would do something like this, I wouldn’t have told you about Zayn. My club has rules!”
“What’s the harm?” the man, Harold, grumbled, barely audible to Zayn. He seemed to have backed off considerably. “I’m not breaking any laws.”
“Mate, you’re so shameless,” Louis sighed. “You didn’t even bother putting on a blindfold.”
Zayn blinked, remembering his own state. He’d got so used to not seeing that he’d almost forgotten his eyes were covered. He reached back to quickly untie the streamer around his face. Once his eyes were again met with the strobe light blinking half-darkness of the club house, he focused them on the tall (well, taller than Zayn) man standing in a slightly defensive posture next to Louis. Big brown hair, round toddler-ish eyes, black blazer, ugly brown boots and the skinniest skinny jeans he’d ever seen. Nope. Definitely never seen the guy in his life.
“What’s... happening here?” He directed the question to Louis, but was unable to quite drag his eyes off of the toddler-eyed Harold, who really was sort of unusual looking. Pretty much what might come out if you threw a kitten, a Michelangelo statue and somebody's aunt into a magical molecule mixer.
Louis sighed. “Can’t blame you for not recognizing him. He looks like such a hipster freak these days. This is Harry Styles. People tended to call him just Hazza back in school. Personally I’ve come to prefer Harold. He looks like such a Harold, doesn’t he?”
Hazza... Harry. That skinny, bit messed up lad in the year below them, who used to follow Louis around at school and barely talked to anyone? “Louis’s stalker!” Zayn blurted out in surprise. He hadn’t thought about that guy in years.
Louis looked amused, tapping his fingers together. “You never did quite catch on, did you? It wasn’t me he was stalking.”
Harry looked disgruntled at that and haughtily flipped his hair over his shoulder. “I wasn’t stalking him. It’s not like I was trying to hide it or anything.” He glanced quickly at Zayn and continued more bashfully. “I was awkward, he was dense and… and straight, I guess.”
Zayn managed to get his brain working again. “Wait, you were stalking me?” Harry frowned and started to correct him, but Zayn didn’t give him the chance, putting his thoughts into words as they came to him. “I’m almost sure you never said a single word to me, ever. I haven’t even seen you since sixth form, and now you’re here...”
“Shamelessly groping you, as established,” Louis cut in impatiently. Some curious clubbers were starting to pull down their blindfolds to see what the fuss was about. “I say we take this to my office. Let’s have some tea and a proper reunion like I originally suggested Harold here when I mentioned our dear old friend from school might pop in, hm?”
Harry rolled his eyes, but nevertheless gave Zayn an expectant look. There was something odd about the situation that had an uneasy feeling settling in Zayn's gut, but the strobe lights were starting to irritate his eyes and he couldn't think properly with all these people crowding up the space around him. Hopefully Louis’s office would at least be sound-proof.
“Yeah, okay, let’s go.”