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niall doesn’t like arizona. it’s far too hot and dusty; too quiet and lonely except for the occasional gun shot. keams canyon is tiny with far too many moth-holed plaid wearing boys and not enough yves saint laurent rogue pur opium red lipstick.
she steps out her old car, door creaking on its hinges and stares out at the dead plain. there’s a few spindly trees that can’t be any taller than her and it seems like farther off the ground dips into a ravine. the grass is dry, crunching and crinkling under her booted feet and she nearly crumples in the heat. niall doesn’t know why she’s here, why she even agreed to louis’ crazy plan, but she’s certain she’s never going to agree to another one if she gets out of this alive and in a reasonable shape. the passenger door opens, and liam smiles over the roof of niall’s car at her, and she thinks he’s a bit of an idiot if he thinks that makes things in anyway better. he is a moth-holed plaid wearing boy so she does forgive him, just a little bit.
niall stands around whilst louis dictates what to do, pointing and laughing and saying something about how this is all great bonding, but all niall can see is zayn. she’s silent; she’s always silent, and she’s got a berretta 950 jetfire in her hands and probably a whole arsenal of other guns in her bag instead of clothes. niall doesn’t like zayn. she doesn’t like or get the silence of zayn, the ink on zayn’s coffee skin and her half shaved head. she doesn’t get the fingers clasping the gun and she doesn’t understand why zayn disappears for hours on end and all that is heard is loud, ringing shots through the dry wind.
zayn is weird and niall is not sure why she’s spending her time with her.
harry joins in to helping liam out with the setting up the swags, with louis changing his mind far too many times where he wants them and cursing because he’s under packed something and where the fuck is grimshaw? harry smiles at liam, tucking some of her tumbling curls behind an ear and liam smiles just as shyly back and niall is once again confused as to why she’s invited to this thing because it feels like a couples retreat (and zayn). looking away from harry and liam making heart eyes at one another, she glances to zayn again, to hopefully make some meaningful contact, bring zayn out of her weirdness but the girl is gone. her pack’s obviously been shouldered, and the thick tread of zayn’s army style boots have sand already dancing over them.
niall lets herself get dragged into helping set up a camp, and after jumping from loud, echoing gun shots she breaks a nail so long and jaggedly that it cuts into her finger and the other arm when she brushes against it. she doesn’t say anything though, because she already feels like an outsider here and doesn’t want to take the city-slicker jokes she knows will come from mentioning it. the broken nail makes it hard to do things, and niall’s worn out in no time. it’s hot and dusty and it feels like niall will never feel cool again and maybe she’s “soft” from living in the city, but that’s where she belongs with prada handbags and too big sparkly sunglasses.
but none of them complain when she drops down into the shade of her car, grabbing a water bottle out of the far too large cooler from harry’s car. she supposes they’re all making jokes about her inside their minds and making faces, but when louis smiles wickedly over at her and then orders liam and harry to move the swags closer to the trees niall laughs like she hasn’t in years. she’s only been in keams canyon for three months, but it does feel like years since she’s last laughed properly, before the heat and loneliness sucked out all her joy.
the gun shots still echo up from wherever zayn is, and that feels safe, like she’s out there looking after the rest of them.
when she grows bored, and feels like it’s possible to feel warmth upon her skin again, niall gets up and roots around in her car to find a hat and sunscreen. she’s probably already burnt, but she doesn’t really want to turn into a lobster and freckle like crazy, so she slathers it on until she’s paler than the lone fluffy cloud high in the sky. louis’ on his cell, yelling at his boyfriend for taking forever probably, and niall’s not even sure how he’s getting signal; it must be a tedious satellite phone. liam’s curled up in the shade of a swag and harry’s got her curls making a nest upon his chest. she pokes her finger through a small round hole and laughs as liam points out harry’s own mouth-holes in her plaid shirt. niall thinks harry would make a good wild cowgirl type character in some lame, inaccurate wild west movie. she’s certainly got the figure and face for it.
with a wave, niall explains that she’s going to go for a walk, she’ll scream if she sees a snake or something as long as her throat doesn’t dry out from all the wind and dust and heartbreak in the air. liam and harry don’t really notice, wrapped up in their own world and niall wonders how they can use we’re just best friends as an excuse still. and louis is smiling that smile that only nick draws out of him, although nick’s never seen it like louis’ ashamed he loves nick that much. louis acknowledges her, though, and for louis she is grateful. without him, and his ridiculous city-slicker ways that make people laugh, she’s sure she probably would be insane by now.
the ground is hot, even though niall’s wearing a pair of her brother’s old, hideous boots, and she jumps and skips over the crumpling dead grass and winces as the burning sand gets down the boots. perhaps she should have worn full length jeans like she was told to. the sun beats down, and niall wishes she had a giant hat so there was more to hide under than her silly tennis hat from when she thought she would make it somewhere jumping around a court. she can’t change those things now and so she just hopes she doesn’t get too red to wear wild ginger from tom ford beauty. she just really likes red lipstick.
she spots zayn up ahead; a blur in the waves of heat, long, assault rifle in her hands, eye at the sight. there’s a bag at zayn’s feet, long legs clad in denim and her arms are now covered in one of those hideous plaid shirts and niall swears she’ll never wear one. she doesn’t like zayn, doesn’t get her at all and she’s weird, standing in the middle of a desert shooting at nothing, but at least it’s someone to talk to. and, niall wonders once more how she got dragged into this “adventure” to quote louis when zayn’s the only other one that’s not in a relationship – or practically in a relationship.
“hello? zayn?” niall yells out, tripped over a rock larger than her head in her hurry and goes tumbling down a small dune, squawking indignantly. zayn swears and her gun lets off a painful shot, sounding like the bullet bounces off another rock. niall feels bruised already and very sandy.
“you just scared off the Canis latrans.” zayn frowns and when niall gives her a wild look because niall doesn’t know what on earth a canis lanatranis or whatever is so she doesn’t say anything else. niall files the name away to ask liam later, and gets up from her position squished into the ground. she feels grassy as well as sandy and zayn looks at her blankly, shouldering her rifle again and focuses back somewhere far away. zayn is weird and niall doesn’t get her all.
niall doesn’t stick around with zayn for long, she doesn’t get or like guns and the zap! tattoo that peaks through moth holes in the plaid shirt. there seems to be no point to it all. she trudges back to the camp, ready to drive back home and sleep for the next few days with the air conditioner on full blast, but nick’s finally rocked up with greg and matt (and that makes her happy because now it’s not so much a couples retreat) and a fuck load of wood. louis laughs at niall, calling her a sand person, and holds nick’s hand whilst nick tries to set up a fireplace. liam and greg take over the job of piling up the wood and rolling larger logs around to sit upon. zayn strolls into camp about then, rifle over her shoulder and piercings glinting in the sun. matt and greg greet her with smiles and head nods, matt’s eyes lighting up as zayn hoists the gun over to him and they squee silently over it. nick sends some shade zayn’s way, but quiet, strange zayn just nods in response.
“what’s a canis lan-something?” niall asks liam as he carries a log past her to put down the other side of the fire, and she kicks at a stone nonchalantly in case the question is too weird, zayn said the words, so it probably is.
“can you gather that stone?” liam motions at the one that niall kicked with a flick of his head and niall supposes she can so she picks it up carefully, forgetting that she broke a nail earlier and cries out because fuck that hurts, “and it’s a coyote, the species name you find in arizona. did zayn tell you that? you okay?”
“um, yes and yes.” niall says and then frowns, “i think i mean no, my finger hurts but i’m okay, i guess.” and liam dumps the log down, taking the stone away from niall and looks carefully at her hand to inspect it.
“you really hate arizona, don’t you?” liam says quietly, and then pulls a band aid of all things out a pocket to patch up niall’s finger, “your broken nail looks nasty, you should have said something before about it.”
“it’s alright, i guess.” niall replies with a shrugs and stuffs her hand into her denim shorts pocket, rocking on the ball of her heels, “and it was fine. didn’t want you to think i’m too much of a city-slicker and pathetic and all.”
“no one’s offended if you hate arizona and keams canyon,” liam smiles, “it’s not the place you’re used to. it’s hot and dusty and the general store barely sells the necessities. it’s okay to hate it and it’s okay to let people know you’re hurt.”
“it’s just a nail.” niall says and the conversation gets dropped. liam carries on getting the fire ready; zayn’s helping now too, and niall picks more stones with harry to put a border around the fireplace because apparently the dry grass is far too flammable.
half way through the job niall curls up next to one of the logs with someone’s stolen sleeping bag and a fluffy pillow. she’s tired and it’s hot still, despite the sun reaching down to kiss at the land, and no one really minds. liam strokes her forehead as he goes past, greg passes her another water bottle to keep her fluids up and louis sits with her for a while and tells her ridiculous stories that can’t possibly have happened. it feels nice, kind of, no matter how country and wild these people seem to be, her liking for clothes and accessories and mascara don’t seem to make her any less in their eyes.
just different.
and niall’s never really felt different in this way, so different that she’s a part of something she’s never considered before because she’s never felt like this. although, she’s not sure whatever this is if zayn’s a part of it; she’s far too quite. niall wants to smile and say no matter how much she hates the heat and the dust and the lack of sanitary conditions and camping she feels like this could be a family, but she’s far too afraid that someone would consider trying to become blood brothers. she’s quite alright just feeling like a family without matching scars and possibly blood-borne diseases. and, niall’s seen the state of harry’s hunting knife, she doesn’t want that anywhere near her skin.
matt badgers nick about sleeping arrangements, and nick squawks because louis is the one in charge, but louis waves his boyfriend away because niall’s got out her make up bag and well, that’s something quite interesting. harry pulls out a various number of devices she claims for torture, but niall laughs and shows her how to use the eyelash curler. louis starts drawing rude pictures upon the logs with various pencils from the bag and niall stills him by putting on eyeliner. liam snuffles at the thought, but when louis pulls away there’s a collective gasp and a what is this sorcery from greg because he thinks he’s a comedian. nick comes back with one of the last armfuls of kindling, zayn following close behind, and he drops it all on his feet when louis stares up at him, lips also shiny from the gloss plumper niall applied.
nick looks scandalised and then jumps around swearing, although niall’s not sure if it’s from the pile of wood landing on his feet or because louis looks completely ravishing, and niall doesn’t even like boys. she feels smug though, glad of the result and nick leaves zayn to quietly put the rest of the kindling in a pile and then start to stack up the fire place. nick’s otherwise occupied with louis for the moment. liam helps, and matt holds out a few small twigs, but the others are amazed with niall’s bag of tricks and louis demands that harry needs to get all prettied up next. niall says make up doesn’t make you pretty, just shows off the pretty aspects and it turns a flush redder than niall burning from the sun on louis’ cheeks. and, niall smiles because this place feels a little like home.
after studying harry’s face, which doesn’t really need much considering how symmetrical it is, niall gets out brushes for a light dusting of powder foundation. she highlights harry’s eyes with a similar eyeliner treatment to louis’ and decides not to overwhelm the poor girl with eye shadow. taking out the wild ginger by tom ford beauty, niall lines harry’s lips and grins once she’s done. it’s only light, but harry looks stunning and she tilts her head as she grins over at liam who does a double take much like nicks, but a lot less profane.
“thank you,” niall says quietly, enough so that the group doesn’t really hear, fawning over harry and louis, except for zayn who gets out a couple of week old newspapers and starts screwing the pages up, but louis does.
“what for?” he whispers, fingers linked with nick’s once more and using nick as an unorthodox pillow and seat, leaning over to murmur in niall’s ear and niall turns her head quickly, looking up through her blonde hair to reply with a smile.
“for indulging me.” she says simply and louis smiles back, eyeliner already a little smudged, and niall wonders if he’ll let her put on something brighter and redder than the gloss plumper on his lips. she kind of wants to see it smudged too, “for not laughing at my city ways, for distracting me from the heat and making me laugh.”
“you don’t need to thank me,” louis continues smiling at her, “i love you likkle nialler.” and then he gets distracted by his boyfriend and niall smiles again because this is nice is a homely kind of way and sits back to stare at the fire and –
zayn’s across from her, staring at niall in either a really blank or really powerful kind of way, emptying gasoline onto the wood. niall shivers, and zayn doesn’t say anything, just looks like she’s concentrating as much as she would with a gun before waving for everyone to move away. niall follows matt back, and zayn lights one of the scrunched up pieces of newspaper and drops it upon the pile of wood. the fire roars straight into life, jumping up and licking at the wood hungrily, angrily, and silent. it’s kind of symbolic of zayn, niall thinks, but flushes as zayn looks her straight in the eye once more. niall slinks back to her place with someone’s sleeping bag, and curls up and packs her make up away.
they watch the sunset, the whole group, and nick complains about how his hipster friends from the next town over couldn’t make it, and louis snorts because the next town over is like two thousand miles away, but harry says she misses aimee and rita too. the sun kisses at the land, striking red and purple and yellow with orange streaks across the sky, reflecting off the lone cloud. it’s all smiles and dozing until louis jumps up to grab marshmallows and demand that he hopes greg and matt saved some of the longer sticks to cook them because it’s not a real fire without half melted marshmallows. liam brings out a pack of graham crackers and greg’s always got a supply of chocolate. they make s’mores and in the dying light of the sun niall smiles at the people around her, ignoring zayn’s silence across the fire.
then, niall feels something scuttle by her leg. she shivers and shifts it, ignoring louis’ look because she doesn’t want to seem pathetic, although she really doesn’t like bugs, not at all. she feels the same thing as before; a slithering by her leg and one by her hand and niall can’t help the squeal that leaves her and jumps. louis swings a flash light at the spot and a small, brown beetle sit there, no bigger than a paper clip but niall hates it upon site, imagines it climbing up her leg and into her sleeping bag and goes to squash it with her shoe when a strong hand grips her wrist to stop her.
“leave the lampyridae. it’s not doing you any harm.” zayn’s voice is calm and husky, like it’s unused and a little foreign to her. niall wants to say something, but she looks up at zayn and the cropped hair and fringe and lets her shoe fall to the ground next to her leg.
“what’s a lampyridae?” niall asks, mainly to someone else like liam or harry but zayn is the one who answers, voice still raw and sharp like the sound of her guns clicking in their bullets.
“lightning bug,” zayn nods, “or firefly.” and there’s an unsaid whatever you wish to call them tacked on the end, but zayn doesn’t say and niall’s sure it’s in her head anyway so it doesn’t need to be said aloud. niall hopes there are many and she’ll watch them flicker in the night when the sun is fully gone. zayn goes back to her spot over the other side of the fire and stays silent, like she’s going to slink off to fire her guns some more.
it’s not til much later when everyone’s dozing off and fire’s down to mere embers and a couple of flames flickering that niall looks up, across the fire and sees zayn.
and it’s like she’s opened her eyes and looked at zayn for the first time. blinked and suddenly not seen the weird girl that like guns and silence, but seen zayn and the sparkles of fireflies in the dry field around them. zayn’s not doing anything in particular, just dozing like everyone else, her eyes flickering shut, the fire light casting shadows across her sharp cheekbones, eyelashes so long and perfect, no mascara is necessary, creating patterns and snapping them open when she realises she’s falling asleep. her tattoos look different with just the fire for light, ink seeping up her arms, telling wild stories with daring heroes and miraculous journeys, they look like they mean something and niall’s not sure but she thinks she wants to touch. wants to feel the ink and skin underneath her finger tips, wants to get to know the stories and learn them off by heart so she can whisper them to people as they meet her, whisper them like prayers and like lullabies.
zayn’s more than her guns, more than the shiny metal glinting in the hot sunlight and the buzz cut of the left side of her head. she’s more than the sturdiest of her boots and the clinging material of her jeans, huge belt buckle and bulging pockets full of empty rounds. she’s more than just the things niall saw, stepping out of beauty parlours and hundreds of shop malls into dusty roads and heat filled houses; niall couldn’t see anything but ruins and mistakes and the silence of the air, loud gun shots ringing through her ears.
she’s secrets and tiny smiles and a beauty so other worldly it’s taken niall months to realise.
niall goes to say something, maybe tell zayn she’s not what niall thought, she’s more than that, she’s better than that. she sees the flickers of fireflies in the darkness around zayn, sparking and lighting up, and she thinks lampyridae and other words that zayn says, other things that make no sense but somehow do. niall even goes so far as to open her mouth, ready to get the words out herself, but zayn’s eyelashes aren’t flickering anymore, they’re still and the patterns of the dancing firelight flutter across her face gently.
everyone else seems to be asleep to, and niall hopes that nothing comes to the fire whilst she’s the only one awake. she doesn’t actually know how to use a gun, and she’s not really very big and she doesn’t think a coyote or whatever else lurks in the dark will think she’s scary. a nice snack, perhaps, but not scary. the fear though, it doesn’t stop her from sliding out the stolen sleeping bag and trekking quietly to her car. she unlocks it, lifting up the creaky boot slowly as to not wake anyone and pulls out a clump of dirty blankets and finds the cleanest one. it’s polar fleece and has little pink ponies on it, but niall doesn’t think zayn will mind much. she darts back to the fire quickly, jumping over the pile of nick-and-louis, not sure where either of them begin or end, and curls the blanket over zayn’s shoulders. it looks strange, the pink upon zayn’s skin and the piercings and the tattoos, but at least zayn will be warm when the cold arizona night sets in.
niall treads carefully back to her own stolen sleeping bag and curls herself up in it, she wonders if she should put something on the fire to keep it going throughout the night, but doesn’t know what to do. she just smiles, glancing around at the crazy people she calls friends and tries not to let her glaze linger too long upon zayn.
* *
four years later;
niall still hates arizona. but, in her own way she loves it too. it’s taken years to get to the point where she can laugh when someone says the temperate is going to be above thirty degrees celcius, or that the fields are dry up again and there’s going to be dust in everything for weeks. but she’s there, laughing at the air conditioner when it stops working and orders louis to come by and pick her up to go to whoevers place is the coldest. she meets nick’s hipster friends from the next town over and they bring her make up when they can; it’s like trip back to civilisation when the group drives over there. niall falls in love with road trips, squashed up against the warmth of zayn in the back seat of harry’s wacked out car.
she works in the local music shop, teaching kids how to play guitar and they adore her, bringing her in food and shiny things they find when they’re out shooting. sometimes she sets up in the local pub, plays requests for old souls sitting with their slowly warming up gin, and rowdier tunes when her friends come to make fun of her. harry sings one time, and niall makes her join in every time after that. sneakily, niall finds out that liam and louis have these beautiful voices, and catches zayn one time singing in the shower. she turns them into a band, makes them sing whilst she plays, much to nick, matt and greg’s delight.
zayn still disappears for hours on end, gun over her shoulder and sounds ringing out with the harsh arizona air. niall watches her go and waits for her to come back and louis is the only one that notices. he smiles at her from his spot upon nick’s lap, fingers curled in nick’s and drinking out of nick’s drink instead of his own. niall smiles back because she enjoys how ridiculously in love the two of them are; louis might do that to anyone, but no one does that to nick. it’s like a game, louis trying to see how far he can push nick, getting up in his face and trying to provoke him. and, nick lets him. they bicker and yell but then they’re always cuddling or some other obscene form of PDA and niall loves that. loves that they’re like it, it makes her smile and the grin that nick gives louis when he thinks no one is looking makes her heart melt a little.
liam’s finally had the guts to ask harry out and they’re not quite as disgustingly cute as nick and louis, but that’s probably just because louis treats everything like a game. he’s just lucky nick doesn’t mind.
they meet up in the town’s only diner, just outside the town’s borders every day when they’re not working. nick orders two of louis’ favourite drinks, one for louis to steal from him, and harry gets upset when liam tries to pay for hers. niall likes the diner, it reminds her off wild west films and zayn wears a tight outfit that opens to show off her tattoos, more than niall can count now, when she’s working there. her hair has grown out, the tommy joe style hair cut gone, long and black and tied up in a neat pony tail. she’s still silent, but an efficient worker and learns people’s favourite orders off by heart. niall likes watching her work, it’s soothing and wonderful and niall’s not sure, but she thinks she loves the silence now. loves the careful, quiet presence of zayn, the feeling that knowing zayn’s there, the warmth of zayn next to her.
zayn’s probably the main reason niall kind of loves arizona. sure, there’s her friends and her work and the makeup that comes for her when she runs out, and that’s all wonderful, but niall’s got this love for zayn and that makes it all completely worth it. and, it’s not some all-consuming love, burning her up like fire flickering from her boots, it’s soft, gentle, silent like zayn herself. it doesn’t ache – not killing her when she sees what she doesn’t have, but does a little when she realises, when she remembers how much she loves zayn, but it’s a nice, low ache, a simple reminder – and makes her smile when zayn wins the open long range shot gun championships.
zayn doesn’t brag – they don’t even get to see the trophy that much – and just goes back to working in the diner, like nothing’s happened.
it’s august when something shifts. niall’s not sure what it is, and when she steps out onto her porch she feels a bit like she’s going to melt. it’s been extra warm lately and the grass is dry under her booted feet, crinkling and crackling. she darts to louis’ car, parked with the motor running on the curb, and jumps in the back, turning the air conditioning straight to herself.
“hello nialler,” louis smiles from the front, beaming at her in the rear vision mirror and makes a couple of faces to which niall makes a couple back. nick reaches over from his position in the passenger seat and grips louis’ jaw and turns it gently out so louis is facing the road.
“you’re driving lou,” he chastises, but even niall can see the fond smile threatening to increase the curve of his lips, “concentrate before you kill us all.”
“i would never kill you grimshaw,” louis smiles, and darts over to press a soft kiss to nick’s lips, almost choking himself on his seatbelt, “i’d miss you far too much.”
“just drive tomlinson.” nick laughs, but his fingers betray himself as they curl gently into louis’ hand and louis tries – and fails – to not look too smug about it, “i’d like to get to the diner sometime today thank you. and i’m sure niall does too.” he adds with a wink to niall and niall pretends not to flush about it. so, apparently louis’ not the only one who knows about her love of zayn.
“i can’t drive if you’re holding my hand.” louis notes cheekily, and nick lets go of it like it’s hot, burning into him, and louis looks unimpressed but finally pulls out on to the street.
the ride is silent. it’s like the restless heat, it’s like the odd, scraggly trees seen periodically, it’s a bit like zayn. they arrive in no time, and whilst louis pulls nick along quickly to get back into the cool, niall drags her feet. her boots scuff along the gravel, kicking a larger stone and then she looks up; past the diner, past the cars in the car park and stares out at the plains of dry, dead grass. she can almost hear it, crinkling and breaking under the soles of her boots, remembering.
liam’s already there, talking to matt and smiling, still with holes in his plaid shirt. louis sidles into the booth, bright and loud, demanding that he be a part of the conversation immediately and niall waits for nick to slip in first, shoving change back into his wallet from ordering drinks already. he makes from for niall, and she nearly slips off the seat when she sits down upon the leather, so louis gets manhandled into nick’s lap. louis looks put out for a second but then zayn comes over with drinks and louis is spoilt for choice; his or nick’s? harry arrives with greg not long after, and squishes into liam, half on his lap, so greg can perch on the edge of the seat much like niall is. unfortunately for greg, he’s about three times the size of niall.
it feels very comforting, and niall lets herself get pulled into the conversation; smiling at the dull hum of her ridiculous friends chatting away. her drink comes quietly and she smiles up at zayn, who lets a tiny smile flitter over her lips, a little awkwardly, and carries on working. niall pointedly misses the look louis has on his face, and curls her tongue around the straw in her drink to pull it into her mouth.
they talk for hours. they talk until it’s dark.
harry leaves early because her dad is really one of those shot gun welding maniacs that would shoot her boyfriend, and though it annoys her a little, she finds it too cute to get really angry with him. besides, the look on liam’s face when he looks at the shot gun is hilarious, apparently. liam goes with her – just for that purpose, niall thinks – and greg and matt follow not long after. it ends up being nick and louis, sprawled out on the seats and niall still sitting just on the edge. she just smiles when nick offers to budge over, it doesn’t matter anyway and her eyes set down upon the silhouette of zayn, standing in a far window, talking to some costumers. she stares at the pony tail, hair fluttering down zayn’s back and the tattoos upon zayn’s skin and outside; where the flicker and shining of fireflies spark along merrily.
and it’s like something hits niall, slaps her in her face and shakes her around a bit. her cheeks pink and it’s like she chokes, air sucked up through her straw and louis jumps up to pat her ridiculously on the back. it doesn’t help; not in the least, and she pushes away at him, nick pulling louis away to so that she’s got some breathing room. “it’s okay,” she croaks out and then starts coughing on again, “i’m okay, i swear.”
“you’re sure?” louis asks, knees slipping around nick’s hips and leaning over the top of nick’s shoulders to get at niall. and she laughs, amidst all her choking and coughing.
“i’m sure, and you should probably go,” niall smiles, breathing properly for the first time in a little while and pats louis on the forehead, “this is getting a little inappropriate for public viewing.” she teases and louis gives her a look like he’s got no idea what she’s on about and leans forwards to get closer to her, knees shifting and rocking forward and niall winces painfully for nick’s sake.
“very inappropriate,” nick agrees through his teeth and louis leans back to look at his boyfriend and then grins when he notes the actual position that they’re in. “perhaps i should take you home?”
“your house,” louis smiles, wiggling his hips down and shifting his hands from reaching out to niall to nick’s shoulders for more leverage, “aimee’s out staying with others isn’t she? i want to go to your place please babe.”
“no,” nick says, just to laugh at louis’ sad face that’s there for barely second before he caves and adds, “of course you can love, lol, you actually thought i wasn’t going to let you.”
“you’re horrible,” louis says back, but he doesn’t look too upset, only mildly like nick’s going to pay for it in the very near future, and niall wrinkles her nose and wishes they’d leave quickly, “you need a lift home ni?”
“i’m alright,” niall says with a smile and tilts her head to where zayn’s making her way over to them, and louis gives her a hopeful smile back like he knows what she’s going to do, like he’s realised what the sky and the heat and sparkles all means, “i’ll just ask zayn for a lift home.”
“keep the lewd acts at home.” zayn interrupts, frowning lightly at her friends, but louis smiles at her too, cheekily and really, with that smile he could make anyone do anything, “the dinner’s shutting soon anyway, so you should head on.”
“that we were,” nick says, and louis does the lewd grin for him, rocking farther up into his space and niall holds back a laugh, “you’ll be right with taking niall home, yeah? t’s just that we’re otherwise occupied you see.” a tiny, fond grin curls up the edges of zayn’s lips and she nods in agreement, “let’s go lou.” and louis is off nick in a shot, jumping up and darting towards the exit of the diner.
“see you later,” niall says and nick spends a few moments readjusting his trousers before getting up, although he mainly darts out the diner, cursing his love of tight jeans and niall’s laughter chases him out to louis’ car, “will I be a bother here?”
“you’re fine.” zayn shrugs, taking up the empty glasses and niall stands up to help, taking the dirtied napkins to pop in the rubbish and to gather up another couple of dishes to bring back to the counter. silently, the pair of the work like that; gathering what’s left on tables and bringing them into the kitchen, putting serviettes and straws into the bin.
with a bright smile zayn ushers the last of the lingering patrons out, wishing them a good evening and to come back soon. niall helps her clean up the tables; wiping them down, and they do the left over dishes in silence. zayn locks the back doors up securely, and niall waits patiently for her to come back, fingers tapping away merrily. the security code gets typed in carefully, lights switched off and the front door to the diner locked. sighing quietly, zayn pulls out a box of cigarettes and lights one up, the glow of the end of dancing in the dark like the way the fireflies do so out behind her, shimmering and shining and niall accepts it when zayn passes it over. she takes a long drag, calming her nerves down a little, and happens to glance up where the dark sky shifts, lighter patches of cloud rolling restlessly and;
“i love you.” niall says slowly, words long and unused in her throat and zayn just looks at her for a moment before she’s dropping her cigarette upon the gravel and crunching it underneath her boots.
“okay,” she says back and takes one more step so her fingers are resting upon the hem of niall’s shirt, feeling the gentle beat of niall’s heart underneath it and leans in to press her lips upon niall’s. the movement is slow and languid, and niall can taste smoke and coffee and something like the breeze that springs up over the arizona dessert, dust tossing and eerie gun shots and the beating down of the sun. zayn’s lips are a little chapped, and as she pulls away they stick to niall’s and the words get stuck there too, lingering and warm, “let’s go home,” and niall knows in a way she’s never felt before it doesn’t mean back to her own house.
the drive back to zayn’s is almost silent, just the sound of the breeze rushing past the barely cracked open. the radio fizzes and crackles white noise at them, barely a whisper and zayn reaches over to draw a slow, effortless pattern into the inside of niall’s thigh, finger tips caressing the pale skin. it’s like a comforting message, i’m here and not going anywhere and this is going to be something new, something amazing and niall drops her hand to rest upon zayn’s lightly. zayn turns her hand palm up and curls her fingers between niall’s.
when zayn pulls up in her drive way they re-join their hands once out the car, walking so close that the fists knock at their legs and niall rubs her thumb upon the back of zayn’s hand. niall barely notices the way zayn’s hand shakes just a little when she brings it up to unlock the front door, fumbling just a bit to get the key in, but she just catches it out the corner of her eye and it calms the bubbling and shifting in her own stomach. there’s only the sound of their breathing as the door gets shut behind them and zayn’s keys are placed upon the kitchen bench. they stand there, in the hall way for a moment, just breathing in and out before zayn turns to face niall, watching carefully with those eyes that can pin point coyotes from miles away and she feels vulnerable in the best possible way.
the movement is slow, soft and their fingers stay knotted together as zayn brings her tattooed hand up to cup niall’s cheek, run her thumb over niall’s cheekbone and lean back in, noses bumping. the kiss is gentle and silent and warm, like the desert sun and zayn herself. and, to niall it feels like that warmth is transferring from zayn to her, at the points they touch; fingers, jaw and lips. she gets own hand up to cup zayn’s cheek, fingers catching at the lobe of zayn’s ear and breathless as zayn kisses deeper.
they break a part, foreheads resting against one another’s and niall tires to remember how to breath. zayn smiles soflty in a way that niall has never seen her do so before and somehow that’s the most perfect thing in the moment; the curve of zayn’s lips and the short breaths that swirl out against niall’s. carefully, zayn steps back, not taking her hand away from niall’s and leads the girl upstairs, their boots collectively clomping against the shined wood. zayn’s room is the first on the right, and zayn nudges the door open to guide niall in, stare around at the bare walls and the metal of the locked gun cabinet. she sits down upon her bed, and finally her fingers drop from niall’s to slowly take her boots off and niall sits down upon the soft quilt too.
with sturdy, quick fingers zayn helps with niall’s boots too, gentle and strong, and swivels until she’s stretched out on zayn’s bed, hair pillowing out around her head like some form of soft halo. zayn sits by her legs quietly, watching niall with a fierceness that would have previously made niall feel uncomfortable, but instead makes niall smile. there’s a loving way in which zayn is fierce and her inked fingers gently loop around one of niall’s ankles, rough fingers brushing over the soft, delicate skin there. niall shivers, in an entirely good way and zayn lets her fingers drift off, pausing her actions to stand up and peel off her work clothes, leaving on a black singlet and slipping on a pair of soft running shorts. she looks beautiful in the pale light of the moon and streetlamps coming through the window, ink snaking along her arms and niall reaches over to make grabby hands.
she wants to touch; wants to taste and feel and breath in zayn.
zayn follows her wishes, climbing onto her bed with niall and hovers over niall gently, reaching down to press kisses to each and every one of niall’s freckles that dust her cheeks. she gently kisses the skin she can reach, between the lace of niall’s shirt and lets her fingers run carefully over niall’s sides, hips and legs. niall lets her own fingers trail over the tattoos she can see, an urge to see zayn completely naked and to have the time to understand and breathe in all the stories and patterns upon zayn’s skin. she rests her palms on zayn’s stomach and traces between the material to touch at the visible part of the heart tattoo.
hands slow and gentle, zayn lifts niall’s hips to slide off her denim shorts and when zayn lays back down next to her, their bare legs tangle, the soft material of zayn’s running shorts brushing up just underneath the end of niall’s underwear. she curves to her side better to look at zayn, and zayn is already looking back, hands brushing hair out of niall’s eyes carefully.
“what made you,” zayn starts between soft presses of her lips to niall’s and it’s so careful and gentle that it breaks niall’s heart to think of someone caring about her like this, “what made today the day?” she asks a little vaguely, but niall understands.
“lampyridae.” she says into zayn’s mouth, hoping the word will stick there, against zayn’s slightly chapped lips, the taste of tobacco and desert winds fitting in nicely. niall can feel the way zayn is smiling, and she smiles back too.