Work Text:
Harry loves the sea. He loves being out in the open air. He loves the way the boat rocks back and forth when it’s hit with the wake of passing vessels, and the way all the lads seem more relaxed -- freer, somehow -- with beers in their hands and the sun at their backs.
Louis goes swimming. Of course he does. Louis’s never heard a dare he didn’t want to take.
“There are sharks in the harbor,” the captain tells them.
Louis shrugs and smiles and cannonballs off the side of the boat. He comes up with his hair in his eyes, spluttering water and laughing. “Come on, Harry! I might need rescuing.”
Dares never held much appeal for Harry, but he can’t help smiling at Louis. Louis never fails to infect him with a spirit of adventure that usually makes him go along with Louis even when it’s not the smartest idea.
“He said there are sharks,” Zayn says. “Get out of there.”
Zayn won’t go swimming, even without the sharks. He never learned how, and it’s a sore spot now because of how much the rest of them like the water. Harry doesn’t like to bring it up. He doesn’t like reminding Zayn that there’s something they can all do without him.
“Come put your feet in, Zayn,” Liam says as he slides gracefully off the back of the boat. There are no undignified cannonballs for Liam. He slips into the water like he belongs there and paddles a few yards out with graceful strokes. He turns back to the boat to smile at Zayn and calls out, “I promise I’ll warn you if a Great White comes near.”
Harry has no doubt that Liam would grapple a Great White to save Zayn, and Zayn must agree because he zips his hoodie higher and pulls his beanie down lower on his head, but he starts making his way toward Harry.
“Come on,” Harry says, grabbing him gently by the bicep. “Just your toes. A pinky at least.”
Zayn laughs, leaning against Harry, but he lets himself be led down to the lower deck and sits on the wet ground with his feet dangling over the edge into the water.
Harry jumps in right next to him and makes the biggest splash he can.
“Brat,” Zayn says, covered in water. He wipes the side of his face with his beanie and pulls it back down firmly on his head.
“This wouldn’t be a problem if you take that sodding hoodie off,” Harry says. One of the downsides to Zayn not being fond of water is that Harry doesn’t get to oogle him in his swim trunks nearly as often as he’d like to.
“You just want to lust after my body,” Zayn says, because Zayn has had Harry’s number for a long time now.
Harry laughs and then sputters when Louis comes up behind him and pushes him under. He sucks in a bit of salt water and surfaces, gasping and coughing for air.
“Let him be, Lou,” Zayn says.
Niall comes down and plops on the deck next to Zayn. “Hey, don’t drown him. We need him for his solos.”
Louis laughs again and smacks a big kiss to the side of Harry’s face before he swims off after Liam. Harry swims over to Zayn and pulls a face when Zayn pushes his fringe off his forehead.
“You okay?” Zayn asks.
“Just a bit of a near death experience,” Harry says. “Nothing to worry about.”
Niall snorts and Zayn says, “Usually I think it’s funny when he bothers you, but trying to drown you in shark-infested waters is a bit much.”
Harry shakes his hair out and gets water all over Zayn and Niall. They both yelp in protest, but neither moves away. They’re all so lazy after the whirlwind of America. None of them are in a rush to get to tomorrow, when the whirlwind of Australia will begin.
“You want another beer?” Zayn asks.
“Yeah,” Harry says. He’s missed beer. He’s been drinking it for a lot longer than he’s been legal to drink it, but there’s something so annoying about waiting and waiting to
become legal only to spend the next several months in a country where you won’t be legal for another 3 years.
Over Harry’s shoulder, Louis shouts, “Me too, babe!”
Zayn rolls his eyes but doesn’t say no. None of them can ever quite say no to Louis.
Louis swims over and nudges Harry with his shoulder. “You forgive me don’t you, Harry?”
“Always,” Harry says seriously.
Louis smiles and pumps his fist in the air before he turns away to talk to Niall about the effects of the sun on his rather pasty, white, Irish skin.
Zayn comes back and bends down to hand Harry his beer. The first sip is always the best, the coldest and crispest and Harry closes his eyes to really enjoy it.
When he opens them Zayn is leaning over to hand Louis his beer and Harry sees it in Louis’s eyes – knows immediately what Louis is going to do and wonders how Zayn doesn’t see it until it’s already too late.
“Gotcha!” Louis shouts, wrapping his hand around Zayn’s wrist and tugging.
Zayn looks frozen for a moment before gravity takes over and has him pitching off the side of the deck. Harry remembers a photo shoot they did that had them all jumping into the deep end of a swimming pool and how scared Zayn has been to do it. Zayn hasn’t even hit the water before Harry is moving, setting his beer down precariously on the deck as he pushes off.
Zayn surfaces, sputtering and flailing his arms, eyes wild and frightened.
Louis is laughing, but he’s also closer, so Harry gets to Zayn at the same time Louis does.
“Get off him,” he says sharply, pushing Louis’s hand from Zayn’s shoulder and wrapping his other arm tightly around Zayn’s middle. Zayn’s grip on Harry is like a vice, and it’s
hard to stay afloat when Harry knows he’s panicking.
“I’ve got you, babe,” Harry says calmly. “We’re getting out right now, but you have to let me swim.”
Zayn deflates like a helium balloon, relaxing against Harry’s chest, trusting that Harry will get him back to the boat. Harry kicks backward. They’re only a yard or two from the deck, but Harry’s heart doesn’t settle until he reaches the ladder and Zayn is safely pushing himself up the rungs.
Harry turns back and glares at Louis who is already squawking at Liam about needing a better sense of humor.
“It was just a bit of fun,” he says.
Liam opens his mouth to reply, but suddenly Harry is so angry he can’t keep quiet anymore.
“It wasn’t funny, Lou,” he says as harshly as he can, which isn’t even half as harsh as he feels because it’s Louis, and Harry feels guilty for being mad at Louis even when he has a right to be.
Zayn has made it up on the boat deck, and Harry turns and follows him up the ladder.
Louis says, “Aw, Zayn I’m sorry.”
Zayn is halfway out of his soaked hoodie and T-shirt, but he spares a few seconds to flip Louis off before he marches off the deck and back up to the main part of the boat. Harry follows him because he can tell from the stiff set of Zayn’s shoulders that he is really upset. Harry can’t stand for anyone to be upset, which is sort of exhausting in a band with five distinct personalities who spend way too much time together.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Harry hears Liam say softly and then Niall adding, “Well I thought it was funny,” before he gets too far away to hear what they’re saying.
Harry finds Zayn below deck, already shucking off his trousers and pants, and takes a moment to admire his rather under-appreciated bum. Zayn wears the most ill-fitting pants in the history of ever and Harry thinks it’s a tragedy.
“Stop looking at my bum,” Zayn says.
“I wanna smack it,” Harry says, and he probably would if he didn’t still hear a distinct edge in Zayn’s voice.
Zayn finds another pair of pants that Harry is pretty sure are Louis’s, but Zayn doesn’t seem to notice or care.
“Those are Lou’s,” Harry says.
“Serves him right.”
Harry wants to make excuses, but he bites his tongue because Louis was out of line and Harry knows it. It does serve him right.
When Harry doesn’t say anything Zayn looks over at him and says, “Nothing? You must really be mad at him.”
“Sometimes he takes it too far,” Harry says.
Zayn nods and says, “Yeah, but usually I like it when he takes it too far.”
“Only when it’s me or Liam he’s pestering so you can laugh at us too.”
“Not Niall?” Zayn asks.
“Nobody better mess with Niall,” Harry says fiercely.
Zayn says, “Damn right,” with a small smile on his face. He goes rummaging through one of their bags for a dry shirt.
He finds one of Liam’s Burberry T-shirts and pulls it over his head. It makes his damp hair go all crazy and Harry can’t help the bark of laughter that escapes him. He claps a hand over his mouth, but it’s too late. Zayn is already turning to glare at him. He looks like a really disgruntled and beautiful cat that’s been thrown in the water.
“I could have died,” Zayn says dramatically.
Harry knows Zayn was never in any real danger of drowning. Louis can be crazy and careless, but he’s not actually horrible. He wouldn’t have let Zayn drown. But Harry also knows it’s not really about Louis.
In the early days of the band, Zayn had trouble figuring out where he fit. He’d been a few days late to the cabin so that by the time he’d shown up the rest of them had already
started forming bonds. It took him a little while to feel like he truly belonged -- like he was part of the group -- and sometimes, in instances like today when there’s something all of them can do that he can’t, Harry knows he still feels like a 5th wheel.
“You okay?” Harry asks seriously because he does care about Zayn, even if he can be really bad at showing it. Even if he doesn’t quite know how to say it so that Zayn will believe him.
“Thanks to you,” Zayn says.
Harry doesn’t know what to do with the sincerity in Zayn’s voice, so he does what he always does when words fail him. He smiles and shakes his hair out and stares at Zayn with the most blatantly flirtatious expression he can muster.
“You know that doesn’t work on me,” Zayn says, but he comes closer, close enough to put a hand on Harry’s hip and pull him in, so close that their hips are almost touching. He seems almost lazy about it, there’s no rush and also none of the early hesitation Zayn had back when he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch.
“I’ll get you all wet,” Harry says.
He feels strangely nervous standing this close to Zayn, with both of them only half dressed, even though he’s positive they’ve been physically closer in much less clothing in the past. Harry almost always sleeps naked, and of the five of them, he and Zayn definitely enjoy sleep the most. They’ve shared beds often enough that Zayn is more than familiar with Harry’s body.
Zayn just smiles and pulls him a little bit closer. They’re still not quite touching, except for Zayn’s hand on Harry’s hip. It makes Harry feel awkward, so he lifts his hands and puts them over the sharp jut of Zayn’s shoulders.
He doesn’t have any idea what they’re doing. Harry knows what he’d like to do, what he’s wanted to do for a while, but Zayn has always seemed too guarded for Harry to try anything. Harry feels like there has always been a line drawn in the sand between them that says this far and no further. But Zayn is the one crossing that line now. Harry waits to see what he’s going to do.
Zayn blinks slowly. His eyelashes look almost sticky from the sea water. His eyelashes are already ridiculous and Harry is having a hard time catching a proper breath. They stare at one another so long that Harry gives up on breathing and just holds his breath -- still waiting for Zayn to make a move -- or to give Harry some kind of go-ahead to make his own.
“All right then,” Zayn says and brings his other hand up to cup Harry’s cheek. He pulls Harry to him and kisses him.
Zayn’s mouth is soft and warm and coaxing in a way that is totally unnecessary. Harry doesn’t need to be convinced. He’s wanted this for a long, long time, so he kisses back as hard as he can, sliding one of his hands to the back of Zayn’s neck and pulling him closer. When he does, Zayn whines against his lips and angles his head a bit so that their mouths slot together better. Harry gets lost in the feeling of Zayn’s tongue against his own and Zayn’s fingertips pressing into his hip, so it takes him a moment before he realizes Zayn is maneuvering him backward, backing Harry into the small sofa bench against the wall.
Zayn pushes Harry down onto the bench and straddles his thighs. It’s Harry’s turn to make an undignified noise, but it gets lost against Zayn’s mouth when he starts kissing Harry again. Harry gets his fingers into Zayn’s hair and uses it to move Zayn where he wants him. Harry’s been taller than most of the people he’s kissed lately, and he’s been taller than the lads for months now, but Zayn has a slight advantage because of the way he’s sitting on Harry’s lap. Harry decides there’s something really hot about Zayn being a little taller than he is, something about having to kiss up instead of down that he really likes.
They make out until Harry is breathless and his mouth feels sore and his cock has become an insistent pressure in his swim trunks. He reaches between them and pushes his swim trunks and Zayn’s pants out of the way, and Zayn buries his face in Harry’s neck and hisses when Harry takes them both in hand. It’s not ideal like this, with only precome to make the slide easier, but Harry is so turned on that he’s not going to last long anyway. He wanks them both roughly, gritting his teeth when Zayn bites down on his shoulder and comes.
It’s ridiculously hot the way Zayn just melts against him afterward. Harry’s not quite there yet, but Zayn’s come makes everything slicker and better. Harry can feel the sharp edge of his orgasm right around the corner, but he can’t quite get there. He makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat as he snaps his hips up into his hand.
“C’mon,” Zayn slurs lazily and that’s it. That’s apparently all Harry needs because he hears that one word and comes hard over his fist and all over Liam’s Burberry shirt.
Zayn kisses his neck softly, dragging his lips over the sore spot on Harry’s shoulder where he bit him.
“My hero,” he says.
Harry thinks he’s joking. He really hopes Zayn is joking. If this has been some kind of thank you for not allowing Zayn to drown, Harry is going to be very cranky.
“Truth,” Harry says. “Did this happen because I saved you?”
Zayn rolls his eyes and says, “I’m not that nice. It’s because you look really hot in those awful swim shorts.”
“These are really fashionable,” Harry says. “You take it back.”
Zayn just smiles and kisses him again, which almost makes Harry forgive him for the slight against his rather awesome swim trunks.
When they break apart again, Zayn bites his lip and says, “Truth.”
Harry waits, but Zayn doesn’t say anything for a moment. When he realizes Zayn isn’t going to finish his thought, Harry kisses him again lightly and says, “Hey, what?”
“Did this happen because you like the way I look in Louis’s pants?”
The truth is Harry does like the way Zayn looks in Louis’s pants, but not for the reasons Zayn is insinuating. Louis just really knows how to accentuate his bum, and Zayn’s bum is also worth accentuating.
“You’ve been reading too much Sugarscape,” Harry says. “You know Lou and I aren’t like that. I don’t like him in that way.”
“Please tell me it isn’t Liam’s shirt,” Zayn says seriously.
Harry throws his head back and laughs, pulling Zayn more firmly onto his lap. When he looks back at Zayn’s face, Zayn looks lost in thought.
“Hey,” Harry says.
Zayn kisses Harry on the corner of his mouth and asks, “But you like me in that way?”
He looks so sure, like the person he is now instead of that insecure boy he used to be, that Harry’s not sure he even needs to answer. But he wants to say it out loud. He wants
Zayn to know without a doubt.
“Yeah,” Harry says, smiling brightly. “I really do.”