Work Text:
“Please be mad,” were a group of words that you hardly ever expected a person to say to their girlfriend or boyfriend, yet here Zayn was, staring down at Niall as he flipped through the channels on the TV. Said boy glanced up, one eyebrow raised as if he didn’t quite understand the request. Which he might not have.
Zayn had been uneasy from the second he’d stepped into their flat, having just gotten off the phone with his mother after receiving what might have been the worst ribbing out of his entire life. It was worse than normal though, because not only was he twenty-one and world-famous and still getting yelled at by his mother, but he’d already felt like absolute shit by the time he saw her name flashing against his caller ID.
How could you think that was smart?
“I didn’t, Mum. I wasn’t thinking.”
All these girls looking up to you, Zayn.
“I know, Mum, I literally couldn’t feel shittier than I do right now, I feel like I’ve let them down.”
They’re going to think this is an acceptable thing to do!
“I know, Mum.”
And your sisters!
That was around the point where the tears started, though he’d tried to keep it down to muted sniffles, because he didn’t think he deserved the sympathy. He knew how bad of a decision it was, he knew that he could very well have cost everyone in that car in that video their job, and he knew that he had so many people looking to him and he’d fucked up. He felt ill every time he thought about Safaa seeing that video.
Of course, in true motherly fashion, Trisha heaved a sigh on the other end of the phone and said,
“Despite all of this, it doesn’t change anything. We are so, so proud of everything you’ve accomplished, Zayn, and we still love you more than anything. Okay?”
Zayn just let out a wet sob in reply.
And just like that, her sharp tone was back.
“But I hope you’ve learned something from all of this, Zayn. You’re damn near untouchable, young man, but near is still just near. Don’t make anymore dumb decisions that’ll put yourselves in jeopardy. You’ve worked hard for this, Zayn. You deserve it.”
“I promise, Mum,” he said miserably, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry for all of this.”
“I know, sunshine,” she replied, once again soft in a way Zayn felt he didn’t deserve. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Mum.”
He hung up the call and finally got out of the car, nodding gratefully at the driver who had stalled outside of his complex so he could talk to his mother. Thankfully, this one was nowhere near that when that stupid video was filmed, so he would be spared. Zayn couldn’t believe his luck, he owed this man a lot, carting his ass all over the place because he still didn’t have his license. The driver nodded back, eyes filled with a sympathy he saw in only half of the people he’d spoken to today. Through management, Simon, Paul, and every other person he’d seen whose job it was to tell him what a fuck-up he was and how disappointed in them they were, he was well acquainted with anger.
From there, he walked up to his and Niall’s flat, bracing himself for what he knew was to come. He’d dealt with his employers, his Mum, his best friends (Liam was a stand-in for both sides of the Mummy-Daddy dream team, as Harry had his hands full with dealing with Louis, who was in even more trouble than him,) he’d seen the mixed fan reactions on Twitter, all that was left was arguably the most important person in Zayn’s life.
He prepared himself for yelling and crying and begging forgiveness and just standing there, shuffling his feet and looking down while Niall told him how disappointed he was in him, just like everyone else. But what he got instead was Niall walking up to him with a smile on his face and greeting him like he always did, with a kiss on the cheek and a hug. After that, he went and sat down on their couch and started watching TV.
Zayn wasn’t sure where he stood right now. He knew Niall knew about the video, Liam had told him that the three of them not present in it were made aware of its existence, if not by the fans absolutely exploding over it and the trends about them, then by their management, who had called and told them that a bumpy road may lie ahead. Maybe it was a mind game? Like a false sense of security kind of thing? But Niall was hardly evil enough for that. Right? And even if he was, he was hardly a good enough actor to look this not-furious when he was actually furious underneath it all. He loved Niall to bits, but the boy had one of the worst Poker faces to ever exist. Maybe he’s waiting for him to slip up and mention it?
Niall looked up at him when he realized Zayn hadn’t taken a step from his spot in front of the door. “Zayn? You gonna come in?”
“Please be mad,” is how Zayn responded, instead of the other things he’d been planning to say, like “I’m sorry,” or “Hey, what gives?” He’d said it in a defeated, pleading sort of way, like a voice that meant to be an apology but had been dressed up the wrong way.
And that’s how they ended up here.
Niall was blinking up at him, remote still in his hand.
“Pardon?”
Zayn didn’t say anything, wasn’t sure what to say to better explain himself. He didn’t think he would actually have to instigate his scolding with his boyfriend.
After a moment of watching him, Niall seemed to understand why he meant.
“Why do you want me to be mad, Zayn?” Niall asked, turning so he was leaning on the arm of the sofa and folding his hands, like a therapist might.
“I don’t want it, to be honest,” he mumbled. “But I feel like, like, you should be? Like I deserve it?”
“Why should I be mad, Zayn?” Niall said, voice smooth and soothing and sort of freaking Zayn out. They weren’t ones to bottle up their feelings, they were a talkative, communicative couple by nature, but he wasn’t used to having his feelings drawn out of him like he were sitting on one of those couches that they used on Frasier.
“Well, because Harry hasn’t talked to Louis since the video came out?” he winced, having finally acknowledged the video and brought it out in the open. “Apparently he’s been stress-eating bananas and listening to Iggy Azalea really loud in their flat so Louis can’t try to talk to him.”
“Well, that’s unfortunate,” Niall said, though he looked to be failing at holding back a smirk. “But as for you, and for us, I’m not mad.”
“You’re not mad.”
“At you? No,” Niall said. “Louis? Yeah, sort of. And the whole situation? Yeah, it sucks, but I’m not mad at you.”
“But- Why?” he asked, anxious to let his guard down and be relieved that this won’t turn into a huge fight for them, but still wary about it.
“Well, it’d be a little hypocritical, right? I light up with you sometimes, babe. Can’t be mad about something we do together. Especially considering what usually comes after,” Niall smirked without hiding it this time, waggling his eyebrows and admittedly, the head Niall gave when he was high followed by their slow, lazy, giggly fucking was not something easily forgotten, but he couldn’t believe that that was what they were talking about instead of the video.
“But-“
“What did you want, Z? Did you want me to throw plates and scream ‘You’ve got some nerve showing your face around here!’?” Niall asked and Zayn shrugged sheepishly, nodding.
“Didn’t want it, but. Felt like I deserved it,” Zayn murmured, head ducking in shame.
“Okay, first off, I would be more angry if you didn’t show your face around here. That pretty face pays half the rent, not to mention I don’t mind kissing it every now and then,” Niall stood up now, moving to Zayn and taking his hands in his. “Secondly, you don’t deserve for me to be angry or whatever. You made a mistake. You got caught. It happens. But you’re sorry that it happened, right?”
Zayn nodded, hoping Niall wouldn’t notice his trembling lip.
“The consequences of this might be worse than normal. That sucks, but I hope you feel better knowing that I’ll be here with you through it. I’ll stand by you, okay?”
Zayn shook his head. “But why?”
“Because I love you, you twit,” Niall said, grinning. “And after all this, I think you need someone on your side. I’ll always be on your side.”
Zayn stared at Niall for a few seconds before he said, “I suck so bad, I don’t deserve you, I should’ve gone to your game yesterday, I’m so sorry.”
“Zayn, please, you were sick. In fact, you should still be in bed, I’m pissed Modest! made you come in when you should be resting,” Niall said, waving him off like it was nothing, a nothing that raised three-hundred grand for autism.
“Still shoulda gone,” he mumbled, leaning forward as to rest his chin on Niall’s shoulder. “Was your big day.”
“You’ll be there for every other big day I have,” Niall said. “And besides, I wouldn’t let you leave the flat.”
“I love you so much,” Zayn hummed, eyes drooping as the fatigue from actually being sick sluggishly returned.
“I love you, too, Z,” Niall said. “You wanna go to bed?”
“Yes,” Zayn moaned. “But only if you come with. I wanna be little spoon.”
“Duh,” Niall said. He rubbed Zayn’s back lovingly. He only wanted to be little spoon when he felt vulnerable and upset. He liked the feeling that Niall would protect him. “Nowhere I’d rather be.”