Chapter Text
“Check-in at the Hard Rock Hotel, baby
It's not too far from here
I won't run the lights unless you're close behind
Really want to get there, let's be safe tonight
'Cause we both been drinking
Key unlocks the door, take it on the floor.” - “Rude Hours,” LP1 by Liam Payne
It was just past 9 o’clock on Saturday night, and Bernie couldn’t sleep. Honestly, this wasn’t surprising - with all the traveling and campaigning, his sleep schedule had become seriously messed up. It was past midnight back in his home state of Vermont but he didn’t feel tired at all. Bernie was still riding an adrenaline high from his rally earlier that day, seeing all of the inspiring young people there had reminded him why he wanted to make a difference in the world. But he would need all the sleep he could get if he wanted to keep his health up while on the campaign trail, so Bernie set out on a quiet walk through downtown LA to clear his head.
...
On the other side of the city, Liam Payne was also having trouble sleeping. Like Bernie, he had been traveling quite a bit lately. Liam was coming off the festival circuit and he had just performed his final show of the tour at the Rose Bowl. It was good to be back, he hadn’t played at that venue since 2014 when One Direction had played three nights of sold-out shows. As the nostalgia washed over him, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts, idly wondering if any of his old mates were in town.
He frowned when he remembered that his best mate Louis was still across the pond working on X-Factor. And Harry had been acting detached lately, not that he wasn’t always a little strange, Liam mused, what with his support of LGBT rights and his odd fashion choices. He had been spending a lot of time in DC lately and no one was quite sure why, though of course the tabloids had all sorts of ridiculous speculations. That left Niall, and Liam was pretty sure he was in LA. His hand hovered over the call button before he remembered Niall’s Instagram post earlier that day about attending the Bernie Sanders rally. He was probably out with his Labour friends, Liam thought bitterly. After scrolling through his contacts one final time, Liam sighed and resolved to go out alone.
...
It was nearing 3 AM and Bernie was still wandering the city. He had hoped that a quick walk around his hotel would tire him out, but as he walked he began to see all the signs of social inequality that were so prevalent in LA and he was filled with righteous anger. This anger motivated him to take a brisk walk throughout the city, much farther than he had intended, and he soon found himself walking past a strip of bars and clubs. It was closing time, and Bernie could see many people stumbling home or calling Ubers.
Just ahead of him, a broad-shouldered man was arguing with club security. Although his speech was slurred, and he seemed to have a British accent, Bernie was able to decipher that this man wanted his car brought around but was refusing to pay for valet service. Suddenly, what had been a shouting match turned into a physical fight and the man was shoved to the ground.
“-And don’t come back!” one of the bouncers shouted as he shut the club’s doors with a bang. Bernie rushed to help the young man up. He reached out a hand. When their eyes met, it was as if time stopped. Although the man was roughed up, it was clear that he was one of the most attractive people Bernie had ever seen. His face looked like it was sculpted from soft clay, structured but also well worn. A soft flush crept across his cheeks, most likely a result of drinking lots of alcohol. He had a mole on his left cheek as if to signify his English beauty. His lips looked soft, like the petals of a thistle, and parted slightly. Under his long dark lashes were eyes even darker still, and Bernie found himself thinking how he could just fall into their dark void and never return. He looked familiar, too - Bernie tried to keep up with pop culture in order to appeal to the youth vote - but he couldn’t quite place this man’s handsome, symmetrical face. Regardless of who he was, he was clearly in no shape to get home on his own, so Bernie pulled out his phone to call him a Lyft, regretfully tearing his eyes away from this Adonis reincarnate
“Where do you live?” Bernie asked, but the strapping young man had sat down on the curb and looked to be nodding off. When the Lyft arrived, Bernie reluctantly gave the driver his own address.
...
Liam felt himself fading in and out of consciousness with the stop and start of LA traffic. In his more lucid moments, he could hear the older man next to him trying to ask him questions with a thick New England accent. “...bleeding… hospital… you need help…”
“No!” Liam said, as clearly as he could manage. “No hospitals, no hospitals.” He tried to elaborate. This man clearly didn’t know who he was. He couldn’t go to the hospital, he was too well known. Besides, he had his own personal physician who provided him with excellent care through his private insurance, much better than anything you could get at a public hospital. He wasn’t sure if he’d gotten his point across but he felt the car change direction so that it was headed away from central LA where the hospital was, and he felt his head drop onto the older man’s shoulder as he drifted out of consciousness again.
When Liam was shaken awake, he had no idea how much time had passed, but he felt significantly more sober. The older man helped him out of the Lyft and into a nondescript hotel building, his hand a warm, steady weight on Liam’s lower back. They entered the elevator and the man took his hand from where it was stabilizing Liam to push the button for the third floor. Liam mourned the absence of the man’s comforting hand but he was distracted by the fact that the man was not going to the penthouse. Liam hadn’t been on any other floor in years! Liam couldn’t complain though when the taller man put his arm around Liam’s shoulders and guided him out of the elevator and down the hall.
...
Bernie fumbled with his room key as he tried to keep the younger man steady. When the lock flashed green he managed to maneuver him down the hall into the tiny hotel bathroom. As Bernie searched for the first aid kit he felt the other man’s eyes following him. He soaked the edge of a washcloth in rubbing alcohol before bending down so that he was at eye level with the man, staring directly into his chocolatey brown orbs.
“This might sting a bit,” Bernie admitted.
“That’s okay,” the man replied, “Just… could you talk to me, to distract me?”
“Of course.” Bernie was hyper-aware of how close he needed to be to the younger man in order to get a good angle on his face, but he managed to keep up a conversation as if he weren’t distracted by the man’s woodsy yet citrusy cologne. There was something about this beautiful man that was so easy to open up to, and before Bernie knew it, he found himself divulging all sorts of details about himself: his name, his career, how much he missed Vermont - he even found himself talking about his son. When Bernie started talking about his son the man’s face lit up and Bernie found out that he had a son as well, Bear Grey Payne. Soon he was deep in conversation with the man, whose name was Liam, his injuries all but forgotten. However, Bernie had to snap back into reality because he saw that some of Liam’s injuries still needed attention. Bernie grabbed a few band-aids from the kit and began applying them to Liam’s chiseled jawline. He was applying the final band-aid to Liam’s chin when he realized how close their lips were. Liam must have realized it too, as his breath hitched. They stayed there for a moment, frozen. Then their lips crashed together, wrinkly flesh against pillowy softness.