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5.
Zayn’s spacing out when Niall finally arrives at the coffee shop, rumpled from work but still gorgeous in a powder blue button up, sleeves rolled up to his forearms and slim over-ear headphones on. His glasses are hooked into the front of his shirt, so he squints around before spotting Zayn and Harry on the overstuffed couch in the middle of the lobby.
The faded red cushions provide the right amount of give. There's this illusion of being cuddled that makes Zayn feel properly lazy so his brain is jumbled and sluggish when Niall waves hello. It's mostly tiredness from attempting to write this article for the better part of the last two hours, but also the couch.
Zayn wiggles his fingers back, watching as Niall immediately gets in line then turns, standing on his tiptoes to peek at the cups Zayn and Harry have on the table.
They’re both thrifty and quaint and mournfully empty. Neither Zayn nor Harry have had it in them to get up and order more. There’s a laptop sat across Zayn’s thighs and Harry is a warm distraction pressed all along his side, so not only is he lazy, he’s pinned down as well.
Not that he’d ever complain about having Harry snuggle him on a couch in the middle of their local coffee shop.
“You’re a saint,” Zayn says, when Niall gets to the couch, three paper to-go cups held in a triangle in his hands. They take a minute to figure out how to unload Niall before he flops dramatically on the other side of Harry.
“You look exhausted,” Harry says, taking his cup from Zayn with a soft smile. He sits up and lists towards Niall for a second, lying his head on Niall’s shoulder as a quick hello.
“I am exhausted,” Niall mumbles, taking a long drink from his cup. Apparently it doesn’t matter that it must be scalding hot. “In the studio all night before me shift. Guess it’s a good thing people don’t give a shite about buying CDs anymore. Managed to kip in the backroom when Lou got there.
“Don’t say that!” Harry frowns, more of a pout than anything. “Record shops are musical culture. They’ll never die.”
“If you say so, Haz,” Niall says, with an indulgent smile, reaching around to reward Harry’s enthusiasm with a gentle head scritch.
“He’ll fall asleep,” Zayn warns, taking a sip of coffee. It’s something mocha and sickly sweet -- hot as it goes down, warming up his throat and chest, waking him up. It’s a wonder that Niall already understands Zayn on such a fundamental level.
“I will,” Harry agrees, nuzzling closer to Niall as Niall starts making slow, deliberate circles with his fingertips. If Harry were a cat, he’d be purring. The contented moan that comes out of him after Niall hits a particularly good spot is close enough.
“That’s okay, Hazza,” Niall says, voice low and soothing and so gentle Zayn flushes. “You probably need it. Just don’t start snoring.”
“Would never,” Harry protests, keeping his eyes shut. Niall snorts amusedly, but doesn’t bother correcting Harry.
“Alright, what are we writing?” Niall asks Zayn, seemingly done with Harry. The couch they’re on faces the windows, bright afternoon sunshine illuminating the freckles smudged across Niall’s nose, the crystal blue of his eyes.
They’ve only known each other a couple of weeks and having all of Niall attention on him still makes Zayn squirm a bit. He’s excited about Niall. About his beauty marks, and his bathtub bleached hair, and the folded corners of Niall’s mouth that taste sweeter than the coffee in Zayn’s cup.
They’ve kissed once, and Zayn remembers the exact feeling he got in his stomach when they did -- that silly-swooping, free-fall feeling that comes back whenever Niall looks at him. Like now, waiting expectantly, interested in what Zayn has to say.
“Uhm, social impact of young celebrities coming out,” Zayn says. That’s the most condensed version, at least. “How representation normalizes identities outside of heterosexuality.”
“Tried and true,” Harry says, opening one eye and smiling at Zayn.
“Compelling, those arguments,” Niall agrees, dragging his fingertip along the top of his cup thoughtfully. He licks it and winks when he notices Zayn watching.
“It’s going to segue into like, an argument for normalizing other identities as well,” Zayn continues, looking at his screen again. There’s barely 300 words there. “Like, lesser known. Trans binary identities in the media allow for nonbinary identities to be discussed, and so on and so forth. I want to get non-monogamy eventually, but there’s not, like, a good lead in.”
“That’d be a follow up to an article on how marriage equality can’t possibly be the be-all and end-all of community rights based on the premise that more and more millennials are rejecting marriage altogether,” Harry says with a shrug, blinking at Zayn with that sleepy look on his face still. Niall positively loses it, laughing loud enough that people turn to look at them. Harry grins and smacks at Niall’s chest to make him shut up.
“Should give up your job at the pub and come write,” Zayn says with a laugh. “That’s a good one.”
“Eh, I’ll leave the words to you. Speaking of my job…” Harry says, waving it away. He straightens up and cracks his neck, stretching his arms over his head. Niall reaches over and digs his fingers into Harry’s ribs, making Harry squirm and giggle. “Stop, stop.”
“Mm, ask nicely,” Niall says, watching Harry wiggle fondly, blue eyes tired and droopy and still so bright. Zayn feels himself warming again and looks at Harry instead, his pink cheeks and twisted mouth as he tries not to laugh out loud.
“Please stop, Nialler, please,” Harry gasps, grabbing at Niall’s hand, tangling it with his own as Niall rolls his eyes, but acquiesces all the same.
“Yeah, alright,” Niall agrees. “Just ‘cause you need to get to work.”
“Oh, thank you,” Harry says, with a little head bow, letting Niall take back his hand. There’s a beat, then Harry frowns sharply. “Shit, I forgot --”
“Here,” Niall says, tugging a hair elastic off his wrist and handing it over to Harry. Harry makes a happy noise and plucks it from Niall’s fingers, pulling his hair into a bun immediately. It’s more blonde than it was when they met, thick highlights running through his curls; Zayn wonders if he’s trying to go all blonde or if he’ll get bored with it soon enough.
“Cheers,” he sighs. He turns his smile to Zayn, watching him thoughtfully. “Thanks for being my pillow.”
“‘Course,” Zayn says with a shrug.
“Do I get a goodbye kiss?” Harry asks. Behind him, Niall makes a choked noise, but Harry ignores him, blinking innocently at Zayn.
Zayn’s stomach flips sharply.
They haven’t kissed yet. There’s been loads of flirty text messages and they’ve chilled like this a few times, cuddled up with each other doing something inane. Once, they even held hands watching Netflix, but that’s been it. The fact that Harry’s asking in the middle of a coffee shop, in the middle of the day seems so… domestic.
“Sure,” Zayn agrees, keeping his eyes on Harry’s mouth. He’s thought about it, but it still doesn’t prepare him for how soft Harry’s lips are, how it’s a little dirty right off the bat, meeting with mouths already parted. A shiver works its way down Zayn spine before they pull away. There might be goosebumps on his arms.
“Mm good,” Harry says, smirking at Zayn before he bounces onto his feet and shoulders his bag. He grins down at Zayn, then Niall, sticking his tongue out. “Now we’re evened out, aren’t we?”
“Guess so,” Niall agrees good-naturedly, as Harry grabs him around the back of the neck and presses a dramatic kiss to his forehead.
“Catch you both later,” Harry says, waving as he goes.
Zayn still feels a little warm and strange when Niall looks at him, amused smiling pulling at the corners of his mouth.
“Ignore him,” Niall says. “He’s ridiculous.”
“Yeah, I… That was okay, right?” Zayn say, licking at his lips. They’re still buzzing. “I know we haven’t really talked, or whatever.”
It’s strange dating two people at once. He’s never been so conscious of who he’s with and how much he’s with them. How they interact with him individually, and together. How much he feels he needs to share, or not. Harry knows he and Niall kissed the first day they met, but it’s been weeks and Zayn’s just kissing Harry despite how much they’ve been around each other.
They’re not all even… officially dating, just talking. Well, Niall and Harry are NiallandHarry, but Zayn’s been talking to Niall and he’s been talking to Harry. He assumes there will either be a NiallandHarryandZayn situation soon, or their interest in him will move from potential dates to comfortable friendship.
He doesn’t really want that. Comfortable friendship is nice and all, but now that he’s kissed them both, he’s not sure he wants to stop.
Niall smiles at him, tired and fond. Exactly the look he gave Harry earlier.
“Yeah, s’all good,” he says. “As long as I get a goodbye kiss as well.”
“Of course,” Zayn says, ducking his head as he flushes. He doesn’t really get pink, but Niall’s close enough, he’d be able to tell. When he looks up, Niall’s grin is even wider and he drags his knuckles across the back of Zayn’s free hand before lacing their fingers together.
4.
Days where it’s the three of them are few and far between. Mostly due to their jobs -- Zayn’s nine to five writing columns and editing, Niall at the record shop in the afternoon and in the studio at night, Harry’s inconsistent schedule at the bar that guarantees he’s gone nights and weekends.
Today’s a Tuesday and Zayn’s bunking off work since Niall and Harry are both at home for once. He just wants to see them. Together, at the same time. At a time that isn’t an exhausted dinner, or a coffee shop interlude... Or a night out with the lads that Harry is usually late to, or Niall has to leave early from, or a terrible combination of both.
So today’s a Tuesday and they’re at the cinema together. A date that’s not really a date because no one’s declared it a date even though it’s definitely… a date.
Zayn’s letting Niall and Harry argue while he queues. They don’t even notice, too busy going on about who’s going to buy and what they’re going to see. They already tentatively agreed on Guardians of the Galaxy 2 before they left, but Harry forgot he hadn’t seen Beauty and the Beast yet, and Niall was making noises about The Fate of the Furious because he’d ‘seen all the others’ and ‘needs to see them, you know?’
Zayn does know, but he wants to see Guardians, so he lets them go on about it while he waits. It’s the middle of the day which means there’s only one person in line and Zayn gets to the counter quick enough.
Behind him, Niall and Harry are still bickering good naturedly. Harry’s almost sat in Niall’s lap on the bench, phone tilted towards them. He’s probably showing Niall the trailer for Beauty and the Beast like Niall hasn’t seen it, and Niall seems to be humoring him, chin hooked over Harry’s shoulder and cheeks pressed together. Niall rocks them back and forth obnoxiously while Harry tells him to stop and pay attention, mouth twitching like he’s trying not to smile.
“What can I get you?” the bloke at the window asks, snapping Zayn out of it.
“Uhm, sorry,” Zayn says, flushing as he pulls out his wallet. He doesn’t want to be rude. Luckily, the lad is smiling at him good naturedly. His name tag says Steven. “Three for Guardians of the Galaxy at 1:45, please.”
Zayn looks back as he getting rung up, back to Harry and Niall in some sort of heated discussion about something. Harry’s trying to use his hands to make a point, but Niall keeps catching them and shoving them down like that’ll help him win the argument.
“Cute couple,” Steven says, jerking his chin at the bench. At Harry and Niall, and their tangled legs, and their tangled fingers, and their barely-suppressed grins.
“Yeah, they are,” Zayn agrees, smiling softly, warm in his chest.
“Ever get tired of being the third wheel?” Steven asks, after he’s told Zayn the total and Zayn has swiped his card. His voice is light and curious as he waits for Zayn to answer.
“Definitely not,” Zayn says, with a grin, before he realizes how expectantly he’s being looked at, like maybe Zayn was supposed to answer differently. Steven blinks at him, face falling the tiniest amount -- Oh.
“Uhm,” Zayn says, flushing. Steven’s handsome, is the thing. Good looking with light brown skin and curly hair, eyes darker than mahogany. If Zayn were the third wheel, he’d say yes, definitely, and score a number, but he’s not the third wheel.
He’s just… the third. Unofficial third, but the third nonetheless. And he can’t even say he feels left out. They might do this -- all the cooing and clucking and bickering -- but they make an effort to include Zayn… Keep Zayn between them, more like, but Zayn could never complain about that.
“‘Sup, babes?” Harry asks, hooking his chin over Zayn’s shoulder. He presses himself all along Zayn’s back, warm and sturdy. Zayn feels himself flush. “Taking awhile.”
“Did you pick?” Niall asks, sliding in next to them, fingertips trailing Zayn’s hip possessively. Zayn watches as Steven catches the movement, gaze dipping low before it comes up again.
“I did,” Zayn says, ignoring the way his stomach squirms as Niall plucks up the tickets with a smirk, like he knows.
“Guardians,” Niall says, waving the tickets in Harry’s face.
Harry straightens and bats at him, making dismissive noises as his hand slides down Zayn’s arm until he can tangle their fingers together.
“I didn’t say I didn’t want to see it,” Harry sniffs, tugging Zayn as he follows after Niall.
“Thanks,” Zayn says belatedly, addressing Steven before Harry pulls him away. All he gets is a nod in return, but Zayn could care less, not with Harry on one side and Niall on the other, smiling at each other over his head like they know something he doesn’t.
“I think he was going to ask you for your number,” Niall says, nudging them towards the concession stand.
“He was definitely going to ask Zayn for his number,” Harry agrees, hand tightening on Zayn’s as he sinks into Zayn’s side.
“I wouldn’t have given it to him,” Zayn says, rolling his eyes to hide the way he’s secretly pleased. Not that he gets off on them being possessive or anything, but it’s nice to know that it matters, that they do mind when people try to chat him up.
It’s like, proper boyfriendly. Or, it would be. If they were boyfriends.
“He was pretty fit,” Harry hums.
“Not as fit as you two,” Zayn says, with a shrug. The grin on Niall’s face is so big, it makes Zayn’s cheeks hurt just looking at it.
“Obviously,” Harry sniffs, pressing his forehead to Zayn’s affectionately.
“Alright, alright,” Zayn says, nudging him away so they can actually order, moving up to the counter as a group.
It’s a process.
Doing things with the two of them makes Zayn feel like a teenager sometimes. Especially when Harry elbows the standing display of sweets, and Niall nearly trips over Zayn as Zayn tries to keep Harry from falling. Especially when Harry can’t make up his mind over what kind of drink to get, and okay, Zayn definitely can’t decide on what kind of candy he wants, but --
They manage to order and pay without much more fuss, scooping everything up.
“Zayn’s middle,” Harry says, opening the theater door for them.
“Oh, I see how it is,” Niall says, dramatic pout on his lips. “Somethin’ new and shiny comes along and suddenly you can’t sit next t’ me?”
“Shut up, Nialler,” Harry says, with a great big cackle. Niall shoots a cheeky grin over his shoulder as he leads them up the stairs. They’re early enough that the lights are still up. There’s a couple of people scattered around and plenty of seats.
Niall picks an approximate middle and sits, kicking his feet up. Zayn sits next to him, and Harry sits next to Zayn, feet up on the seat in front of him exactly like Niall.
“I want some of your M&Ms,” Harry says, leaning over Zayn to talk to Niall. Niall shoves Harry’s head back with a palm on his forehead, but he’s laughing.
“Yes dear,” he says. “I’ll let you know when I open them.”
When the lights go dim, both Harry and Niall take one of Zayn’s hands, linking up around their cups, candy in their laps. Zayn can’t stop smiling, cheeks aching from it.
“Glad I didn’t go to work,” he says, loud enough for the both of them to hear as the previews roll. They both squeeze his hand at the same time. He figures that means they agree.
The three of them are still clinging to each other as they stumble out of the theater. People watch them go, and Zayn wonders what they think of it. Three blokes in their twenties holding hands, and hanging all over each other, and yelling at each other about who gets what of the leftover candy.
He can’t decide whether or not he cares. It’s strange knowing that everywhere they go, everyone will assume they’re a pair plus a tagalong. That one’s a third wheel being brought out by a couple. That no matter how they act people will never look at them and think, ah it’s the three of them together.
But it is the three of them.
The three of them, in the middle of the afternoon on a Tuesday going to the cinema.
Definitely a date.
3.
“Are you staying for dinner?” Niall asks, dragging his fingers through Zayn’s hair. He has his head in Niall’s lap, feeling lazy from the cuddle. There’s a lot of laziness with Niall. A lot of food and a lot of movies and a lot of general chilling. Zayn loves it.
“I mean, I do need to work on more of that article,” Zayn says, stifling a yawn into Niall’s thigh. Niall giggles and tugs his hair, but doesn’t push him off, so Zayn bites his leg through his jeans with the sharpest points of his teeth.
“Ouch, wanker,” Niall says, tugging harder. Zayn moans exaggeratedly, rolling onto his back to look up at Niall. He can see straight up Niall’s nose. The angle is truly endearing.
“Mm, harder,” Zayn says, grinning cheekily. Niall rolls his eyes, but twists his fingers in Zayn’s hair and tugs sharply. Zayn bites at his lip so he doesn’t moan for real this time, but Niall can see it, eyes going dark.
“Yeah?” Niall asks, as Zayn sits up and twists so he can nudge his nose against Niall’s.
“Yeah,” Zayn agrees, tilting his head so he slide their lips together, kissing Niall deeply.
“Wait,” Niall says, after a second. Zayn whines at him. Niall rolls his eyes pointedly. “Here.” He pushes Zayn so that Zayn slides over, giving Niall enough room to scoot forward and pull Zayn on top of him before reclining back.
Their legs slot together, Niall’s sharp hips digging into his own. Not that Niall cares, he’s already got one hand under the hem of Zayn’s shirt and the other sliding through Zayn’s hair again, pulling him down for another kiss.
They’re not moving against each other, not trying to get off. They’re just… kissing. Like that’s the only thing could they could ever want to do, like it’s the only thing there is to do. They kiss for so long that Zayn’s mouth goes numb and buzzing, and his arms are sore from holding himself up, and his belly is warm with how much he wants Niall, and the skin on his low back is tingling from Niall petting it over and over and over again. It’s so unhurried and aimless. It’s driving Zayn mad, but he can't get enough.
The clatter of the lock shocks Zayn out of the hazy, aroused stupor he was in and he pulls back in time to see Harry nudge the door open with his hip.
Underneath him, Niall huffs, but doesn’t say anything, tilting and twisting his head so he can see the door. “Hiya, Haz.”
“Hey, babes,” Harry says, curls falling around his face as he works his shoes off, tugging at the laces sharply. His shoulders are slouchy in a way that means he’s exhausted.
“Hi, Haz,” Zayn says, sitting up on his knees before he realizes he’s straddling Niall’s leg, more than a little hard. Harry looks up then, smiling softly. His eyes dart from Zayn’s face, down, to Niall’s face, up again.
“Am I interrupting?” Harry asks, after a beat. Zayn flushes and clambers off Niall, standing awkwardly. Harry winks at him before going off into the kitchen.
Zayn shoves his hand down the front of his pants and adjusts himself as Harry opens the fridge and peers inside. On the couch, Niall does the same, hips lifting as he rights himself. They look at each other and burst into giggles at the same time.
“Shut up,” Harry says, not even bothering to look at them.
Zayn bites his bottom lip, trying to contain himself. There’s a deep pink flush to Niall’s cheeks, but Zayn’s not sure if that’s embarrassment, or because they spent the better part of the last hour snogging like teenagers on the bloody couch.
“How was work, honey?” Niall asks, falsely sweet. He stands with some difficulty, holding onto Zayn for balance. Zayn gets it, he’s still a bit underwater himself. Niall smirks at Zayn and kisses him again, lips warm and soft, before turning and wandering into the kitchen.
Zayn follows him after taking a moment to recover, hopping onto the closest barstool as Niall leans against the counter next to Harry.
It takes a moment, but Harry makes a victorious noise and tugs a Savse out of the very back of the fridge. The weird green one that reminds Zayn of baby food; he’s never drank one for that reason alone.
“Uhm, well,” Harry says belatedly, before he stops to chug half his smoothie. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and frowns. “There were like, three angry drunk people. And, oh, Louis broke the jar of cherries, so there was syrup all over the floor and we had no cherries, but neither of us wanted to go get any.”
“So you served drinks without cherries?” Niall asks, sounding properly scandalized. Before Niall has a chance to reach for it, Harry’s already sliding his Savse across the counter.
“That we did,” Harry says, looking somber and nodding slowly as Niall takes a drink. He tears his eyes away from Niall’s mouth and blinks at Zayn.
“Shame,” Zayn says belatedly, stifling a giggle. There’s a pink flush to Harry’s cheeks, but Niall remains clueless, making faces at the smoothie.
“Don’t you have an article to be writing?” Harry asks, narrowing his eyes at Zayn. “Or did you finish?”
“Don’t remind me,” Zayn says flatly.
“Ah, too busy snogging Horan to do your job, then?” Harry asks, nose scrunching up the way it does when he’s trying not to laugh. His dimples deepen as Niall whacks him in the stomach.
“Don’t talk about the j-o-b,” Niall says. “Want him to stay for dinner.”
Harry groans and promptly face plants. “I forgot about dinner.”
“S’alright,” Niall says, face a mix of disappointment and pity. Good thing Harry’s got his forehead pressed to the counter.
“It was my turn to pick something up,” Harry says. Quite pathetically, Zayn thinks.
“S’alright,” Niall says again.
The tight line of Harry’s shoulders goes soft as Niall sighs and stands behind Harry, running his fingers through Harry’s curls before he gathers it all up and starts braiding. It’s soothing to watch. The braid is sloppy and Niall’s hands move slowly, but it’s obvious it’s calming Harry down, tension bleeding out of him.
“I can make something quick, it’s not a problem.”
Harry grunts quietly in response.
“I’ll help,” Zayn says. He might as well stay for dinner. The article can wait. “Group effort, yeah?”
Niall grins at him, turning around to tug open the freezer. “There’s frozen pasta and veggies. I’ll pop some garlic bread in and we’ll be alright.”
“I’ll make it up to you,” Harry sighs. “I really am tired.”
“We know you are, babes,” Zayn says, hopping off the stool so he can press a kiss to Harry’s forehead. Niall’s watching him as he tugs Harry off the counter and out of the way, shoving him lightly towards the barstool. “Let us do it.”
“Alright,” Harry agrees, slumping down.
He watches them cook. It’s not even cooking. The frozen pasta goes in the frying pan with some water. Cover until simmering, stir occasionally. The oven preheats, then the bread goes in. It’s not a two person job, but Zayn helps where he can, stirring while Niall distracts Harry with a story from the studio.
They eat in the kitchen. Niall and Zayn both standing, Harry sat on the stool. It’s quick and easy, and Zayn’s glad he didn’t leave. He loves these moments, the three of them. Far easier than Zayn ever thought it would be.
Once they’re nearly finished, Niall clears his throat. “Harry,” he says, weirdly stiff, setting his fork down carefully. Harry looks at him, frowning. “Since he’s here…”
“Yeah, you think?” Harry asks, confusion clearing up in a heartbeat as he catches Niall’s drift.
Butterflies start up in Zayn’s stomach when they both turn to look at him. “I’m lost,” Zayn admits. There’s no way he’s going to attempt to decipher half sentences and significant looks. Niall and Harry have their own language that Zayn can only ever dream of learning.
Even if he knew them both for the rest of their lives, they’d still have all those silent cues and tiny quirks that come from being two people who’ve known each other since they were young.
“Uhm, we wanted to talk to you,” Niall says, shrugging casually before taking another drink. Zayn’s face must betray the way his stomach jumps with nerves because Harry shakes his head quickly.
“It’s not bad,” Harry adds, glaring at Niall and taking his smoothie back. “It’s, like, good.”
“Hopefully,” Niall says, fingers dancing across the countertop.
“Uhm,” Zayn says.
“We wanted to talk about us. All three of us,” Harry says, very slowly. “Because you know, it’s been almost two months of… talking, and hanging out, and like cuddling. We’re all sort of in a comfortable place. I think. I hope… So we should talk about us.”
“What Harry is trying to say,” Niall says, thwacking Harry in the chest lightly with the back of his hand before smiling at Zayn. “Is that we think we should try the dating thing.”
“Oh,” Zayn says relieved. All the nervous butterflies in his gut get softer as they both grin at him.
“We haven’t ever done anything like this, but I like you,” Harry says very earnestly. “And Niall likes you.”
“A lot,” Niall adds.
“And we don’t really want anyone else to like you,” Harry says, with an exaggerated frown. Zayn wonders if he’s thinking about Steven from the cinema. Niall snorts.
“We’d like this to be an exclusive arrangement,” Niall says. “If you’re not seeing anyone else.”
“Oh, I, no,” Zayn says, startled. He hasn’t even really looked at anyone since he met them. All his mental energy is split between Harry’s tattoos and Niall’s hands, and the way Harry sings in the shower, and the way Niall refuses to cook red meat, and both of their dimples. They’re taking up all the room in his mind. He can barely write because of them. “I don’t usually, uh, talk to a bunch of people at once.”
“Just us then,” Harry says, with a cheeky smile.
“That wasn’t on purpose,” Zayn protests. “I texted you both, you text me back.”
“He has a point,” Niall says. He and Harry exchange one of their goofy, fond looks before turning back to Zayn in unison. It’s scary synchronized. Zayn’s heart squeezes in his chest.
“What do you say, though?” Harry asks.
“Sure,” Zayn laughs. “Never had two boyfriends before.”
“Uh, me either,” Harry says, and Niall throws his head back and laughs loudly, that big haw haw haw that sets Zayn off. It takes half a second for Harry to start laugh too, until they’re all a giggly mess, relying on the counters to hold them up.
2.
“When’s he on?” Zayn asks, grabbing ahold of the back of Harry’s shirt so they didn’t separated on the way to the makeshift drink table. It’s one of those thick fold open ones with a disposable tablecloth over it, corners taped up so it doesn’t get ripped off at some point during the night.
There’s giant bins of ice on top of it filled with beers and soda and Vitamin Water. There's definitely bottles of juice in one.
“Didn’t know this was BYOB,” Zayn mutters, raising an eyebrow at the honest-to-god punch bowls at the end, surrounded by assorted liquors for mixing.
“Uhm, more like BYOD,” Harry says, with a giggle, picking up an orange juice. “Bring your own drink.”
“Orange juice plus vodka,” Zayn says, with a shrug. He grabs a coke for the rum he’s planning on adding to it once they get to the end of the table. Zayn grins at Harry, tugging his arm so he looks at Zayn. “You brought your own D.”
“That I did,” Harry says, looking down at his crotch with faux surprise.
“No, I’m your -- Harry,” Zayn says. “I’m your D.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Harry says, frowning.
“Harry,” Zayn says, very seriously. Harry actually stops combing through the ice for a drink and turns to look at him. “There are 20 letters in the alphabet.”
“Zayn,” Harry sighs very heavily. Considering his sense of humor, Zayn doesn’t think he should be judging at all.
“Harry.”
Harry rolls his eyes. “There are 26…”
“You’re right,” Zayn replies, unable to help his grin. Harry’s mouth twitches, nose scrunching up as he tries not to smile. Victory. “I forgot U R A Q T.”
“You forgot one,” Harry mutters, definitely smiling now.
“I’ll give you the D later,” Zayn finishes, batting his eyelashes.
“You know that doesn’t make the statement from before make any sense. You know that, right?” Harry turns back to the barrel. There’s a couple people behind them, so Zayn nudges him forward, hand curving along his waist.
Harry raises his eyebrows, plucking up the most pretentious looking beer in the lot.
“That’s a pretentious label,” Zayn says, so Harry knows, moving them along.
“What makes a label pretentious?” Harry asks with a sniff, staring down at his bottle. “You’re drinking rum and coke.”
“The font,” Zayn says. The font is so curly, Zayn can’t read it at all. “And liquor is never pretentious.”
“Please don’t say something like that in front of me ever again,” Louis says, popping up next to them. Harry gives a little shout and clenches his beer to his chest while Liam laughs behind Louis.
“He’s right,” Harry says.
“Please don’t say something like that in front of me ever again,” Liam says. “Louis doesn’t need a big head. He’s hardly ever right.”
“Constantly wrong, me,” Louis says, slinging an arm over Liam’s shoulders and pulling him in. It takes a bit of maneuvering, but Liam slouches for Louis, and Louis looks unbearably smug. “Wrong about Liam being fit. Wrong about him being my boyfriend. What else am I wrong about? You sleeping in our bed tonight, perhaps?”
The laugh that comes from Harry is loud and ridiculous, and Zayn can't hold back his own. There's a heartbreaking pout on Liam’s face and when Louis sees it he starts cooing.
“I'm kidding, love,” he says, pressing kisses to Liam’s face.
“Gross,” Zayn declares fondly, reaching for a plastic cup and the rum now that they’re at the end of the table. Louis and Liam both have drinks in their hands already, eyes a little hazy and cheeks flushed. Zayn wonders how long they’ve been here.
Here being the warehouse on loan from the local uni art scene, where Niall and his band are performing with other assorted start up musicians for the low-low price of ten dollars at the door. Zayn and Harry are both very proud.
The current act is girl with neon green hair playing keyboard and another with bright blue hair playing sitar. The music is flowy and psychedelic, and Zayn’s dead bored of it. Harry probably loves it.
“Oh,” Harry says, like he’s just remembered. “I don’t know what time Niall goes on.”
“Okay, that helps,” Zayn says, snorting at Harry as they follow behind Louis and Liam to get a better spot in front of the stage. The crowd isn’t exactly dense. They manage to weave their way through until they’re a few rows people from the 70’s revival group.
“The sets are all 20 minutes long with time between for set-up,” Harry says as they settle into place, rolling his eyes as he grabs Zayn around the waist and tugs him in so they’re pressed together tightly. “Up to ten minutes, but Niall only takes about 7 since the band knows what they’re doing.”
“So you do know,” Zayn teases, sinking into Harry’s side as he drapes his arm around Zayn.
“I don’t know what time slot he has,” Harry argues. “He said be here at nine. I’m here at eight thirty and I brought his boyfriend.”
“Your boyfriend, too,” Zayn reminds Harry, turning in Harry’s arms so he can look at Harry properly. Harry grins at him, dimpling deeply.The lights from the stage are bright enough to make Harry glow a bit, eyes sparkling.
“That you are,” Harry says, cupping Zayn’s jaw so they can snog, tongue licking out to trace Zayn’s bottom lip. Zayn clings to Harry’s waist and lets himself be kissed, feeling giddy.
They stay close like that, swaying back and forth until the psychedelic set ends and lights come back up. Niall’s band starts to set up, quick just like Harry said the would be. At one point, Niall stands on the first rung of his stool and looks around the crowd.
Harry’s hand shoots up automatically, waving around. Zayn presses his giggle into Harry’s shoulder as Harry hollers, and Louis joins in with a loud, “Oiioii!”
Niall throws his head back and laughs, sound carrying over the crowd. Zayn feels it in his chest, and it adds to the excitement, the buzz of anticipation. This is the first show of Niall’s he’s been to, and he absolutely cannot wait. He’s seen the band practicing, heard a couple of demos, but he knows this is different.
The band makes a few noises for sound check, tunes their guitars, and they’re off, launching into one of Niall’s faster paced songs off the bat. Niall sings into the mic and bops along, smiling out at them.
Zayn peeks over at Harry who’s grinning too, singing along. Close enough that Zayn can hear how deep and lovely his voice is under Niall’s warmer tones.
They dance to one of Niall’s slower songs. ‘Dance’ is probably the wrong word -- Harry shimmies around Zayn until Zayn begrudgingly swings his hips and Harry pulls him in for a terrible slow dance before spinning Zayn around and holding him close.
They’re both facing the stage now, Harry’s pressed all along Zayn’s back, chin hooked over Zayn’s shoulder. Zayn can feel his chest rumble as he sings along again, not missing a single word.
He gets grabby during Slow Hands. Not that Zayn is going to complain. Can’t when there’s one boyfriend on stage crooning away, voice rougher than he usually lets it get, and the other grinding against Zayn, fingertips trailing along Zayn’s sides, lips trailing over Zayn’s ear and neck.
“You’re a menace,” Zayn says, when the song ends. Harry just laughs and holds him tighter.
Niall steps up to the mic and thanks everyone for being there, says the next song is one of his favorites and he’s dedicating it to someone in the audience. The band dives into a song Zayn doesn’t even recognize, but Harry’s singing along enthusiastically.
“Guessing this is for you,” Zayn asks, loud enough to be heard. Harry grins.
“S’my favorite song,” Harry says, as the music cuts off.
“‘Course it is,” Zayn giggles. Of course it is. Zayn makes a mental note to ask Niall what the song was later, so he knows.
“I want to thank you all for a fantastic night,” Niall says into the mic. He’s a little breathless and a little sweaty and really fucking beautiful. “This next one is the song that started it all, uh, This Town. Thank you for coming.”
The four of them link arms and sing along at the top of their lungs while Niall grins on stage, smile curling sweetly behind the microphone. Zayn’s heart skips around a bit as their eyes meet over the crowd.
“He’s so good,” Harry says, pressing the words to Zayn’s cheek as the music trails off and Niall bows onstage, radiant with the excitement and energy of a great performance. Zayn can’t wait to taste the happiness on his lips, he thinks, absolutely buzzing with it.
“He’s so fucking good,” Zayn agrees, turning his head so he can kiss Harry now, taste him. It’s supposed to be quick, but Harry tugs in closer and makes it deep, and dirty enough to make Zayn flush all over.
“C’mon, let’s go see him,” Harry says, pulling away, pink tongue licking along his bottom lip. Zayn watches, a bit dazed as Harry smirks. “C’mon.”
“Yeah,” Zayn agrees, letting himself be tugged along to the side of the stage. Louis and Liam are already there. They’ve got Niall between them, squishing him, shouting and bouncing and being ridiculous.
NIall untangles himself with a loud laugh and Harry steps forward to catch him, immediately pulling him in for a tight hug. Crushing enough that Niall’s heels lift off the ground. They stay like that for a long moment. Zayn can see that Harry’s talking, but Zayn can’t hear, just watches as Niall’s cheeks go pink as he pulls back, dimple going deep as he grins widely.
Zayn’s stomach goes hot and fizzy as they look at each other. It’s impossible not to feel like he’s intruding on moments like these. The intimate moments where they seem to forget anyone else is in the room with them.
They’re few and far between, Zayn’s come to realize. He thinks it’s because everything is so new with the three of them. Maybe they don’t want to make Zayn feel excluded. He knows he gets jealous sometimes, of their secret silent language and how easily they make space for each other, so he does appreciate how slow everything is moving as they all get accustomed to it, but…
He doesn’t think he’d be jealous now, if he saw more of it. It’s been nearly three months since they all met. It’s probably about time to bring that up with them.
“Thanks Hazza,” Niall says, quiet and soft and warm before Harry presses a kiss to corner of Niall’s mouth. They pull back quickly and stare at each other for a moment.
Zayn wants them to kiss properly. So badly, he’s practically aching with it. He’s never seen them kiss on the mouth. It’s all cheeks and foreheads and, once, Harry kissed the back of Niall’s neck as Niall made tea one afternoon. Niall’s cheek were flushed for nearly a half hour after that, it was adorable.
But they don’t. In the next beat, Niall’s looking at Zayn, all the tension from the moment before disappearing as he smiles at Zayn. Harry lets him go and Niall tugs Zayn in for a tight hug, pressing a kiss to his neck.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, rocking them back and forth as they hug. Zayn laughs into the curve of Niall’s shoulder, catching Harry’s eye as he watches them. The look on his face is so sincerely fond, Zayn feels his heart skip in his chest.
“I’m glad I’m here, too.”
1.
Zayn met Harry first. At Louis’ housewarming party, no less.
Looking back on it, it was a miracle it took that long to meet Harry. Zayn wasn’t a stranger to the bar Louis worked at with Harry, but Zayn somehow went the first two months living in the neighborhood without seeing hide nor curl of Harry until Louis moved into his new flat and threw that party.
So there Harry was, slouching in the middle of Louis’ sitting room, watching Louis talk like Louis was the only person in the entire world, tips of his fingers touching his lips as he frowned. He was a sight, all long limbs and bright shirt unbuttoned to his sternum, dark hair in a fishtail braid over his shoulder with streaks of blonde through it.
It was his hands that caught Zayn eye first. Big and square, veins stood out along the back and down his forearm. Large, chunky rings all over his fingers much like Zayn’s own. Fingernails painted yellow to match the daisy pattern of his shirt.
All of it should have been ridiculous, but Zayn’s heart actually skipped a beat in his chest, like his whole body needed a moment to process what he was seeing.
Zayn was pretty sure he was going to get ignored by the pretty stranger when he first went to say hello. It took a minute, but he introduced himself, eyes fixed firmly to Zayn’s face as they shook hands. Apparently Harry was just a bit stoned.
“You’re very attractive,” Harry had said. The first words after Zayn said hello. “I’m sure you know, but you are very pretty.”
“Thanks, you are very pretty yourself,” Zayn said with a laugh, and it was the start of a beautiful… Friendship wouldn’t be the right word. The way Harry touched Zayn’s waist when he leaned in to talk was more than a little friendly.
It should have sounded like a line when Harry said, “So, tell me about yourself, Zayn,” but somehow he said it with complete sincerity. Kept his eyes on Zayn, gave Zayn all his attention. Zayn loved it, could have spent all night next to Harry if Louis didn’t shove him out back for a smoke.
Before they parted ways, Harry programmed his number into Zayn’s phone under some pretense Zayn couldn’t even remember. All he knew was that he was getting an attractive bloke’s number, he didn’t need to know why.
All the while, Harry was grinning like he knew Zayn was going to text him the next morning, fuck a three day rule. He was right, of course.
One smoke with Louis turned into three, and a gorgeous brunette bloke coming up to him asking to bum a cigarette.
“Excuse me, Niall, why didn’t you ask me?” Louis had asked, and Niall snorted at him derisively, stepping closer to Zayn.
“Because I don’t need t’ flirt with you, do I?” he’d asked Louis before grinning at Zayn and tilting closer for a light. It was all very cliche, Niall looking up at Zayn through his lashes as Zayn lit his cigarette, cheeks hollowing out.
Zayn was a goner, a little buzzed and feeling silly with all Niall’s attention on him. Harry’s number was a curious weight in Zayn’s pocket, but he forgot about it occasionally -- especially when Niall would touch the inside of his wrist for a drag of his cigarette and make his pulse jump underneath the thin skin there.
They kissed before Niall left the party. Zayn pressing Niall into the wall, hands sliding through his hair, teeth biting at each other’s mouths. They kissed until Zayn’s lips were numb and he was dizzy from it. They kissed and kissed and kissed, and Niall laughed as he pushed Zayn away.
“I need to go, or I’ll never get out of here,” he said, lips brushing Zayn’s ear, giggles pressed into his cheek like secrets.
“I’m okay with that,” Zayn said. He liked the way Niall’s narrow hips felt under his hands, liked the feeling of their bodies together against the wall of Louis’ entryway. He liked the lazy way Niall grinned at him, cheeks flushed red and lips bruised.
“Give me your number,” Niall said, wrestling his phone out of his tight jeans. “I’ll text you.”
It took two days to figure out Niall and Harry knew each other.
Zayn nearly deleted both their numbers when he got the text from Niall, a simple: This is a weird question but are you tlking to a Harry ? Like talking talking ?
Then, after a second: You don’t have t tell me if you are .. It’s weird but I think I know him .
And: Tall fit bloke w a man bun and dumb blonde highlights ?
Zayn blinked down at his phone before texting back: Yeah, I think. I met him the other night at Louis’ party.
Same place Zayn met Niall. Of course they might know each other.
He didn’t think of it -- wasn’t thinking about the fact that he was talking to Niall, or talking to Harry. Just that he’d hit it off with both of them, and they were both fit as fuck, but not anything else past the standard get-to-know-you text messages they’d been sending back and forth.
There must have been a look on Zayn's face, Louis snapped his fingers next to his ear and leaned in. “Wassat, then?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Zayn said hurriedly, hitting the button so the screen went black. The look Louis gave him was decidedly unimpressed. Zayn sighed. “You know Niall, right?”
“Well, I'd hope so,” Louis said, leaning back with a satisfied smile. “It was my party you met him at, wasn't it?”
“And you know Harry?” Zayn asked.
“I feel like these are stupid questions to be asking, Zayner,” Louis said, with a long, exaggerated sigh.
“I’m texting both of them?” Zayn said. It sounded more like a question than anything. Louis burst out laughing, doubling over from the force of it. It was probably a good thing they were sitting. Zayn hit Louis in the shoulder as Louis shook his head over and over.
“Just texting, or texting?” he asked, once he calmed down, wiping imaginary tears out from under his eyes dramatically.
“Texting,” Zayn said, leg fidgeting. It looked like Louis was trying his best not to dissolve into another fit of giggles. “I snogged Niall at the party.”
“Good on ye,” Louis said, clapping Zayn on the shoulder. “They came to the party together, bro.”
Zayn bit his lip so hard it stung. He frowned down at the phone.
“They live together, bro,” Louis said, grinning like this was the best thing that had happened to him all week. Knowing Louis, it was the best thing to happen today. At least someone was finding the whole situation funny instead of completely mortifying.
God, why did they even text him back? Why did Niall snog him if he came to the party with Harry? If Niall knew he was texting Harry, did Harry know he was texting Niall? He didn’t fuck around with people who were involved.
“So, they’re like --”
“They’re Niall and Harry,” Louis said, with a shrug, as if that meant anything to Zayn. “Like, do whatever you’re gunna do, but make sure you talk to both of them. That’s important.”
Zayn’s phone buzzed: O ok ! Yeah , its weird, we live together .
Zayn’s phone buzzed again before he could reply: Hope that was OK to bring up . Thought it was a weird coincidence ..
Zayn wondered if Niall normally used the word ‘weird’ that much in conversation, or if it was because he was nervous. Zayn scrolled up and read through the messages before scrolling down again.
He did that twice more before he responded: Definitely weird! Thanx for letting me know. Is that okay w you? That I’m talking to him too.
Niall responded immediately: Ya ! Wanted to make sure we were on tha same page :)
Zayn didn’t know if they were truly on the same page, but it had been two days. Which was probably too soon to be asking intimate questions about Niall’s intentions, or Harry’s, or NiallandHarry’s, apparently. Zayn figured he’d let it go and see what happened.
Zayn’s phone vibrated again, Niall with a simple: how was your day ?
Then again, but this time it was Harry: :) x
And that was that.
+1
The thing is… Niall and Harry have always been NiallandHarry. Obviously.
He hasn’t separated them in his head because he hasn’t had to. No one does. Louis, Liam. All of Harry’s weird arse posh friends, and Niall’s LIC. Family. No one separates them. No one bothers.
They’re NiallandHarry. They’ve been best friends since they were wee lads. Decided to move to London together, lived with each other for years. Where one is, the other isn’t far at all. They know everything about each other. Likes, dislikes. There are more inside jokes than Zayn cares to keep track of. They know exactly what the other is thinking at any given moment.
And Zayn definitely thought they were together.
Like, together-together.
Boyfriend together.
Wasn’t even suspicious until last night. Until they were leaving the show and Harry said he was going to crash with Louis. Winking at Niall and Zayn even as his mouth went tight with an emotion Zayn couldn’t identify, letting the other boys pull him away.
Zayn had some of the pieces. Weird things he’d given thought to, but never thought about. Their apartment was a two bedroom, and he’d asked about that. They said they liked having their own space, but Harry ended up in Niall’s bed for a cuddle more often than not. Which wasn’t unheard of, not really.
Sure, they never kissed each other on the mouth in front of him, and their PDA was far more casual with each other than with Zayn, but he honestly thought it was because they were trying to make sure he felt included. It’s difficult to balance three people, more difficult when two of them know each other as intimately as Niall and Harry do.
Even when he and Niall got back to the apartment, they had to take a moment to clear the bed of Harry’s things since he made Niall help him choose an outfit after they took a nap together.
Zayn doesn’t think it was a wild assumption to make considering the way they were with each other, the way they cared about each other. How everything was royal ‘we’ and ‘us’.
But, they’re not.
Not dating, that is.
He can see it now, leaning against the hallway wall watching them in the kitchen. He’s not exactly out of sight, but he’s not immediately noticeable. He doesn’t step into the room because he just, wants to see.
He woke up in Niall’s bed, satisfied and sore. He pressed his smile into the pillow, remembering last night -- flushed and happy and giggling as they kissed, fumbling hands and Niall spread out underneath him, finally.
Zayn heard Niall in the kitchen, and came out to find Niall and Harry awkwardly occupying the same space. They weren’t ever awkward, was the thing. They didn’t do this. Whatever this was.
Zayn caught the tail end of small talk, he thinks. Niall asking, “Did you have a good night?”
Harry’s flat reply, “Not as good as you.”
And that’s what made him stop, heart jumping in his chest. The tone. Stiff and definitely not thrilled.
Didn’t they talk about it? Didn’t Harry know? Harry left with Louis and Liam knowing Niall was going to bring Zayn back, he must have. There’s no way Niall would go behind his back, Zayn knew he wouldn’t.
That’s what made Zayn hang back in the hallway, keeping out of sight.
Niall has his back to the counter, leaning against it. He’s in his briefs, chest bare. Zayn can see the marks his left on Niall’s pale neck, the bite mark between his pecs.
Harry is across from him, mug held in front of him like a shield, fully dressed in the same clothes from last night. Somehow they’re both still the most lovely people Zayn has ever seen, even if he could feel how painful the tension is.
Niall looks guilty. Harry looks sad. Zayn isn’t sure he wants to be around for this, but he can’t make himself leave.
“We talked about it,” Niall says, so quiet Zayn has to strain to hear. Relief floods through him, even if it does nothing to dampen the butterflies filling up his gut. Harry’s mouth twitches, but he doesn’t say anything. “I don’t know what else we can do.”
“It’s alright,” Harry says, putting down his cup so he can wring his hands together. “It’s just… a lot. I’m not mad.”
“I know you’re not,” Niall says, looking down at his own hands. “I just... I feel like things have been weird lately.” Harry hums noncommittally. There’s a flash of annoyance across Niall’s face. He reaches out and catches Harry’s wrist. “Between us.”
“How?” Harry asks, looking down at Niall’s hand holding onto him. They step closer. Zayn’s not sure it’s a completely conscious decision on their part.
“Last night,” Niall says slowly. Zayn watches Harry’s eyes widen. “You kissed me.”
“I was aiming for your cheek,” Harry says, tugging his hand away gently. Niall lets him go.
“Okay,” Niall says, with a sigh.
“What do you want me to do?” Harry asks. It sounds pleading. Zayn’s fucking chest aches.
He can’t do this… He really just can’t.
He doesn’t wait for Niall’s response, he goes back into Niall’s bedroom. They’re still talking in the kitchen, low hum of their voices barely audible. He doesn’t know what they’re saying, which is fine, he doesn’t actually want to.
He grabs a towel from Niall’s clean stack and a shirt from Niall’s closet from scooping up his pants and darting across the hall to the bathroom. He lets the door make as much noise as it wants shutting, so they know he’s up, and starts up the water.
A shower will give them all time to regroup, he thinks.
They’ve never kissed.
That moment between them last night was the first time that had ever happened, and Zayn was watching it with the assumption that they did it all the time. Zayn doesn’t know what to do with that.
He can see the way they look at each other. It hasn’t been very long, but he knows how Niall acts when he’s into someone and he knows how Harry acts when he’s into someone. He should know, they’re both into him. They treat each other the same way they treat him, but they’re not together?
It doesn’t make sense.
Zayn’s knees feel wobbly. The whole time, he’s just assumed... Never pushed any conversation because he was sure they were all dating. Not that he was dating Niall and Harry… separately.
“Fuck,” Zayn says, tilting his head back to rinse out Harry’s shampoo. Harry’s shampoo, Niall’s body wash, Zayn’s crippling sense of doubt now that he realizes that he’s been under the wrong impression.
Things have been weird between us.
Of course things have been weird. Both of them involved with Zayn while Zayn treats the whole thing as one relationship instead of two separate ones. If he’d known, the boundaries would have been completely different. The way he talked to them, how he spent his time with them.
He facilitated the confusion by constantly pushing them together. Dinner and movies and coffee dates -- the three of them together. He wanted group dates, to get to know Niall and Harry together, and let them get to know him together. But they weren’t even dating. They haven’t been dating.
The worst part is they should be. There’s something between them that’s so stunning and obvious… And, what happens to Zayn when they realize they’re in love with each other? Will they even want him anymore? Or is he, literally, the middleman?
There’s a sick feeling in his stomach as he towels off and tugs on his clothes. The bruise at the base of his throat is dark red, and he presses into it with his fingers, feeling how tender it is.
Fuck.
He wastes some more time and runs gel through his hair, brushes his teeth with the spare he keeps in the bathroom, stalling because he knows he needs to say something to them.
It’ll eat him up if he doesn’t. Then he’ll avoid them. Then everyone will feel terrible, and there’s enough of that going around already, isn’t there?
He hates conversations like this. Hates having to put himself out there and resolve things immediately. He’s always been notorious for internalizing and not saying anything -- like at the beginning of it all when Niall said he wanted them to be on the same page, and Zayn didn’t ask for clarification? That’s biting him in the ass right now, and it might have been a short three months, but if anything he’s learned that he needs to at least try.
He has to try if he wants to keep them.
When he comes out, Niall’s sat on the stool, but Harry’s stood where he was when Zayn left. They’re both looking down at their phones, mugs mostly full next to them. Both their heads lift at the same time when they see him.
There’s a grin on Niall’s face, and Zayn gets a sweeping look of appreciation that makes the nerves in his stomach even worse, if that’s possible. Harry’s smiling too, a bit more subdued.
Both their faces falter when Zayn doesn’t smile back. He’s not trying to be a stoic asshole, but he’s too nervous to make his face move.
“What’s up?” Niall asks, eyes darting to Harry before he looks at Zayn again.
“We should talk,” Zayn says. Mumbles, really, around his thick tongue. The tension jumps up a notch. They don’t say anything, but Zayn assumes they’re on board. Not that he’s trying to make too many assumptions, all things considered.
“I was up earlier,” Zayn admits, wiping his hands on his jeans. They look at each other again. Zayn’s never felt like an outsider more than he does right at this moment. “I heard you talking… Saw you talking.”
“Zayn --”
“No, it’s okay,” Zayn says quickly, effectively cutting Niall off. “It was good. Not that eavesdropping is good, but I wasn’t like, snooping. Wasn’t trying to at least. It made me realize we need to talk.”
“What are we talking about?” Harry asks. He’s fiddling with his hands, watching Zayn nervously.
“Uhm, the two of you,” Zayn says.
“The two of us?” Niall asks, voice going a bit wobbly.
“If this is about last night, I didn’t really,” Harry bites at his bottom lip. “It wasn’t really on purpose. I didn’t think before --”
“No, it’s not about last night,” Zayn says, with a laugh. Harry looks visibly relieved before Zayn adds, “Well, kinda.”
“Zayn,” Niall says slowly. “Can you come out with it?”
“See, last night, I didn’t think anything of the kiss,” Zayn says. “Actually I thought it was weirder that it was the first time I’d seen you kiss --”
“What?” Harry asks.
“But,” Zayn continues, trying to keep momentum. “I figured you were being considerate since everything was so new. Like you didn’t want to make me feel left out, or summat.”
“Left out,” Niall echoes, sounding dazed. “Of us? Because...”
“I thought you were together,” Zayn says.
The look on Niall’s face is shockingly hilarious -- jaw literally dropping, eyes going wide. In contrast, Harry’s mouth screws up tightly, eyes on the floor, shoulders coming up around his ears defensively.
“Dating,” Zayn elaborates, when they don’t reply.
“Why would you think me ‘n Harry were dating?” Niall asks incredulously.
Zayn can’t help it, he laughs. They both look properly scandalized.
“Everything,” Zayn says. “I thought we were all dating.”
“Everything,” Niall says, blinking. “Hazza?”
Harry’s been staring at the ground with his arms crossed over his chest, but he looks up when Niall says his name. The look on his face is so guarded it actually startles Zayn.
“Mad, innit?” Niall asks, pleading like Harry was earlier.
What do you want me to do?
“Yeah, it’s --” Harry clears his throat and blinks a few times before wrinkling his nose. “We’re best friends, Z.”
“I know you are,” Zayn says readily. He really does. He’s aware that there are people who care deeply about each other in a way that seems romantic and isn’t. He knows there are people who act that Niall and Harry, but have perfectly platonic relationships.
He doesn’t think Niall and Harry are anything like those people, but if they’re doing this -- if they’re standing there and telling him that they’re just friends, then the only thing he can do is accept it.
And readjust his entire perception of his relationship with the two of them.
Which may be easier said than done, all things considered.
The three of them stand there in silence for a moment -- Niall staring at the counter as he worries his thumb with his teeth, Harry watching Zayn with this look on his face that Zayn doesn’t know what to do with, and at a completely loss for what to say next.
“Alright,” Zayn says, with a sigh. He tries on a smile. It’s not terrible. “I need to go. I really do need to finish that article, and I -- I probably need some space, I think.”
They both look at him, heads snapping up. Zayn’s stomach goes hot and sour as he shrugs.
“Kinda need to readjust,” he says. This whole morning has been so awkward and full of tension, and Zayn really wants to go back to sleep. “Boundaries and whatever.”
“How would this change your boundaries?” Harry asks, all wide eyed and worried.
“Well I was going to tell you about Niall and I fucking last night,” Zayn deadpans. “I feel like that might be overstepping, all things considered.”
“Oh,” Harry says, swallowing noisily. It might be Zayn imagining things, but he’s pretty sure there’s some pink to Harry’s cheeks.
“If that’s something you’re interested in hearing about, I really do think you two should talk.”
“We should probably talk anyway,” Niall says, with a visible wince.
“Don’t make it sound like the worst thing ever,” Harry mumbles, kittenish glare on his face.
Niall looks like he’s going to retort so Zayn leaves them to it, heading back to Niall’s room to grab his shit.
Last night feels like weeks ago despite the bed still being rumpled. And the trail of clothes leading up to the foot of it -- Niall’s, since he’s in his jeans and his shirt is in the hamper from earlier. And the condom wrapper on the floor that Zayn’s definitely leaving for Niall to find.
It all feels so out of place. He feels out of place, and he doesn’t like that.
He pockets his things and turns, and stops. Niall’s hovering in the doorway uncertainly.
“He doesn’t actually want to talk right now,” Niall says, stating the obvious. The door to Harry’s room slides shut as quietly as it possibly can, but Zayn can still hear it.
“Didn’t think he would,” Zayn says, with a shrug. Anything he says about Harry or the confusion will probably make things worst. Niall is already standing there looking stiff and unsure so Zayn makes the first move, reaches out and tugs him in and presses his fingertips to Niall’s throat as he changes the subject. “Thanks for last night.”
A sticky scoff makes Niall’s throat jump. “Sorry it kind of went to shit.”
“Last night didn’t,” Zayn mutters, cupping Niall’s jaw and sweeping his thumb over Niall’s cheekbone. “That was brilliant.”
“I don’t want you to leave,” Niall says, before Zayn has the chance to kiss him.
“I really do need to work,” Zayn says. “You two need to talk.”
“Will you come back?” Niall asks quietly. He looks genuinely worried about that. Like Zayn could possibly walk away from them. “Even if we don’t manage to figure it out.”
“That’s up to you,” Zayn says. He’s not trying to give himself any false hope here, even if he wants to. He can’t stand the idea of the two of them without him, but he knows it’s their choice in the end. It all comes down to their talk. Whether or not they’re willing to be honest with each other.
“We want you to come back,” Niall says, with enough conviction that Zayn believes him.
“There you go again,” Zayn says, when they pull back. The look on Niall’s face is impossibly soft, and Zayn wishes he had known he was going to fall so hard for the both of them when this all started. He doesn’t know if it would have made it easier, but at least he would have been prepared. “That royal ‘we’ shit. It’s no wonder I was confused.”
Zayn leans in to press a kiss to Niall’s lips so he doesn’t reply. A noise of protest dies in Niall’s throat as Zayn licks into his mouth. It’s a little too hard, and a little too desperate, and a little too full of all the shit he can’t bring himself to say, but Niall clings to him tightly and kisses back just as bruisingly.
et al.
“I never would have let you talk to them if I knew this was going to happen,” Louis says, wrinkling his nose.
They’re queued up in the coffee shop waiting to order, at the perfect vantage point to see the way Niall and Harry are sat on the squishy red sofa in the middle of the shop, ankles tangled up and leaning into each other whilst they giggle.
“You’re one to talk,” Zayn says flatly. Currently, Liam’s hanging off Louis like there’s no place he’d rather be, chin perched on the curve of Louis’ shoulder. Occasionally, he leans in enough to press a kiss to the side of Louis’ face.
“Okay, but this is normal for us,” Louis says, still glaring over at the couch like Niall and Harry are committing a heinous offense by cuddling on it. “That’s completely new, and it’s making me nauseous.”
“Oh c’mon, Tommo, they’re cute,” Liam says, with a little grin. “Besides, you definitely knew this was going to happen.”
Louis sighs loudly. “Not the point, babe.”
“You knew this was going to happen?” Zayn asks, shuffling forward with them as the line moves. Louis is literally shuffling, tiny little movements so he doesn’t jostle Liam too much. Liam looks absolutely delighted. When they come to a stop again, Louis gets another kiss.
“Well, I guessed,” Louis says, rolling his eyes.
“He bet on it,” Liam announces proudly. Zayn glares at Louis.
“I just told Payno that if you dated them both, they’d get their heads out of their arses,” Louis says, looking as innocent as possible. Which isn’t very innocent, if Zayn says so himself. “He said no way, that they’d go on pretending like they weren’t half in love with each other.”
“Didn’t think you were going to make them go on group dates,” Liam says, lying his head on Louis shoulder to look at Zayn. “That’s what did it.”
“That’s what happens when you have poor communication,” Louis says, very seriously.
“Liam told me you didn’t know the two of you were dating for nearly two months,” Zayn says, rolling his eyes. “Stupid apparently runs in the friend group.”
“Stupid runs in the friend group,” Louis says in a baby voice, blowing a raspberry afterwards. “At least it was only the two of us. What on earth would you have done if they had said no?”
“Date them… separately,” Zayn says slowly. Louis squints at him in disbelief, but they’re at the counter, so he can’t launch into any arguments, thank goodness.
It would have been weird, but Zayn isn’t lying, he definitely would have tried. As long as they managed the whole communication aspect, Zayn’s pretty certain it would have worked out, too.
Luckily, he didn’t have to worry about that. Niall and Harry managed to get their heads out of their arses and get it together.
Not that it was easy.
Harry stayed with Liam for three solid days, stewing in his own angst, texting Zayn increasingly sappy lyrics as if that would make up for the way he was avoiding Niall. But Niall was avoiding Harry as well, so the guilt was misplaced.
The worst part was the way Niall avoided Zayn as well. Zayn didn’t blame him. It was a lot to process and confront, coming to terms with how he felt about his best friend at all, but it was terrible. It put Zayn on edge and made him anxious.
He felt pretty certain about Harry, considering the texting -- and they’d gone out twice, managed to talk about their relationship while carefully avoiding the subject of Niall altogether. That was pretty set. Harry wanted to try, Zayn wanted to try. That’s all that mattered.
Niall was a completely different story. The radio silence was making Zayn insecure. He wanted to know where Niall’s head was at, but he didn’t want to push Niall into a discussion too soon. It was driving him mad.
The whole ordeal was dramatic, drawn out, stressful, but Harry finally went home, and Zayn went with him. Both of them wringing their hands in the middle of the sitting room when Niall got off work.
They had discussed what Harry should say to Niall beforehand, practically rehearsed it, but the second Niall came through the door, Harry threw himself at Niall and Zayn finally got to see them kiss for real; Harry’s trembling fingers framing Niall’s face and their mouths catching with little gasps.
No words necessary, really. And it was as lovely as he always thought it would be. Both of them clinging to each other and smiling. Harry definitely had tears in his eyes. It was all very endearing.
Luckily, Niall kissed back, both of them blubbering about how much they missed each other and they were sorry and how stupid they were.
Zayn stood there and waited for them to untangle themselves, waited for them to acknowledge him, completely nerve-wracked.
Luckily, they asked him to stay.
Zayn can’t stop looking over at them on the couch. It looks like they’re bickering, mouths moving quickly. Niall keeps doing that thing where he catches Harry’s wildly gesticulating hands as if it’ll help him win the argument. There’s no doubt they’re going on about something ridiculous, but Zayn loves it.
Loves the way Harry’s watching Niall fondly. The way Niall can’t seem to stop smiling, cheeks gone pink. The way their shoulders bump when they move because they’re sitting nearly on top of each other.
Basically the same as before, but now Niall has no problem leaning over to shut Harry up with a kiss.
“You can go sit,” Liam says, laughing at the way Zayn’s staring. “I’ll bring your drink.”
“Cheers,” Zayn says, with a grin, practically skipping over to the couches. They have half a second to notice him before he flings himself into their laps.
“Oi!” Niall says, loudly, catching Zayn around the middle. Neither of them complain. They move over so Zayn has a spot between them, close enough that they’re still squishing him between them. He feels a pair of lips hit each cheek at nearly the same time and flushes.
“Smooth,” Zayn says, wiggling to get more room out of them. There’s a bit of grumbling as they rearrange, but they figure it out. Zayn’s tucked under Niall’s arm while Niall twirls a few of Harry’s curls between his fingers, grinning at the both of them.
“So what were my boyfriends arguing about before I rudely interrupted?” Zayn asks, tapping his fingers up and down Niall’s leg. There’s still a sweet thrill in his chest when he says it. My boyfriends. Spent a couple of days worried he wouldn’t get to say it again. Now, he says it more than necessary.
“I was discussing a private matter with my boyfriend,” Harry says, sounding pleased with himself. He mirrors Zayn’s tapping, fingers pressing into Zayn’s leg, dancing up and down. “That my other boyfriend can wait to find out about.”
“We don’t have to be this couple, loves,” Niall says, rolling his eyes. There’s a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, so Zayn’s not sure he’s actually displeased. Niall usually enjoys the corny stuff more than Zayn does.
“I mean, we’re technically not a couple,” Zayn says with a shrug, just to see the way Niall glares at him. He grins cheekily, nuzzling into Niall’s arm.
“We’re a --”
“Triad,” Niall says. “Technically.”
“That sounds so formal,” Harry says, with a long sigh. They’ve had this discussion a couple of times. “We’ll think of something.”
“As long as it’s not like, ‘group of lovers’ or summat, I’m alright with whatever,” Zayn says. “Okay, I lied. Make sure it gets group approval.”
“Communication is important,” Louis drawls, sitting down on the chair opposite the couch very carefully. Liam chuckles, handing over Zayn’s drink before ruffling Harry’s curls. Harry makes a pleased noise, stretching up like a cat.
“Shut the fuck up,” Zayn says, as Niall makes disappointed noises next to him.
“No refills for your coffee-less boyfriends?” he asks, managing to sound terribly disappointed.
“Sorry dear, you make more money than I do,” Zayn replies, setting the cup down so no one jostles him and makes him spill. Knowing the two of them, that’s absolutely something that would happen. Best let it cool off.
“I would have made it up to you,” Niall says, batting his eyelashes. Zayn’s helplessly endeared.
“We both would have,” Harry says, voice low and rough. A shiver works its way down Zayn’s spine.
“Probably at the same time,” Niall adds, absolutely making it worse.
“This is exactly what I’m talking about,” Louis says loudly. “Completely nauseated, I am.”
“Tough shit,” Niall says, flipping Louis two fingers. “Anyway --”
“We want you to have a key,” Harry says abruptly.
Louis jerks and sputters and shouts because he dropped hot coffee on his lap. Zayn’s reaction is similar, neck twinging as he turns to look at Harry. He’s really glad his cup sat on the table right now. Niall smacks Harry’s arm.
“What happened to waiting?” he asks.
“I’m impatient,” Harry says, with a dramatic pout. “What were you going to say?”
“I was going to ask if he’d order my refill, you donut!” Niall says, laughing. One of the big ones that makes its way out of his chest, cheeks going bright red.
“Oh,” Harry says softly. He shrugs. “Well, I’m sincerely sorry. Zayn, would you consider taking a copy of our key so you have free access to our flat at all times?”
It’s Zayn’s turn to laugh, stomach going warm with how fond he feels, heart beating hard against the back of his rib cage from excitement and the way they’re both looking at him hopefully.
“Of course,” Zayn says.
Like he could ever say no to either of them.