Chapter Text
The first time Zayn saw Harry was at the bakery. He’d taken the train to Manchester for the weekend instead of locking himself away in the dorms like he usually did, and decided to surprise Waliyha at school. She’d screamed with excitement when she saw him leaning against the brick wall outside of her hall, running toward him until she was close enough to throw herself in his arms. His sisters were his best friends and no matter the distance or time between them, they always picked up right where they left off.
Waliyha was the one who suggested they grab a bite to eat, bouncing on the balls of her feet as they walked hand in hand down the street, Wali telling him all about her classes and the boy that had been trying (and failing) to ask her out even though she continuously told him she wasn’t interested in dating right now. Zayn just listened, content knowing that she was happy and enjoying her first year at Manchester. And maybe a little happy himself that she was concentrating on school and not boys.
Stepping inside of the old brick building, the smell of fresh bread and vanilla brought memories of Zayn’s childhood to the forefront of his mind. He could remember walking up to the display cases when they went to the shops on Sunday morning and pressing his nose to the glass, his mum trying to wrangle him back in line with little to no success. He wanted to see it all, the colors and decorations, the cakes with words written on them that he couldn’t quite read yet and cookies with smiling faces painted in icing. He was always fascinated with pretty things.
That was when Zayn saw him. He looked up from where he’d been texting Doniya, letting her know they’d be home soon and asking if anyone needed anything from the shop before they headed that way. He looked up, eyes drawn toward the corner of the small eating area, and spotted quite possibly the prettiest boy he’d ever seen.
He had a book on the table, his face inches from the paper and his mouth moving in silent words as he tore apart a cinnamon roll while he read, popping a piece into his mouth before licking off his thumb. In the next moment he looked up and locked eyes with Zayn, blinking at him with wide, mossy green eyes that made Zayn’s fingers itch for his paints.
Both of them later told each other that it was like getting the wind knocked out of them, like everything clicked into place the second they saw each other. Zayn hadn’t been a believer in love at first sight. Not until Harry.
---
Zayn’s always been a heavy sleeper. You can bang a pot over his head and he won’t even flinch, an attribute that he both loved and hated. He didn’t have to worry about the noise in the halls back at uni, able to sleep through whatever party was happening or whatever girl his roommate would bring back to their room. But he also slept through his alarm regularly, trying to sneak into the back of his lectures in baggy sweats and a beanie pulled over his greasy hair without being noticed. He pulled it off as often as he didn’t.
But now Zayn’s a parent, and it’s like his body suddenly recognizes that he needs to be alert at any possible moment. His mum teases him about how quickly he’s up and heading for his son’s room whenever he hears a noise, repeatedly talking about what a lazy teenager he’d been and how it took her nearly an hour to get him out of bed every morning or away from the telly after dinner. Now all it takes is the crackle of the baby monitor and Zayn is off and running.
He still can’t believe it sometimes, that he’s a dad. He’s wanted kids his entire life, having had a big family growing up with his three sisters and a brood of cousins. There was never a dull moment in the Malik household, laughter and chaos around every corner, and Zayn had always dreamt of the day he’d get to have that for himself.
His dream came true when Jaxon Javadd Styles came into the world on a stormy April morning, a whopping nine pounds even. Zayn had stood at Harry’s side, one arm around his husband’s waist and the other holding their surrogate’s hand while she pushed. When the first cry rang out, Harry turned in his arms, wrapping his own around Zayn’s neck as he sobbed into Zayn’s jumper. It had been a wild ride getting to where they were, but when the nurse handed their baby over, their little boy, all of the stress and the worries, the sleepless nights and short tempers went right away.
Zayn reaches out, frowning with his eyes still closed when he feels Harry’s side of the bed has gone cold. He cracks one eye open and looks at the clock, his brows furrowing when he sees it’s almost three in the morning.
He kicks his way out of the sheets and blankets, stretching his arms above his head before he treks into the hallway in search of his husband. He doesn’t have to look very hard, his nose leading him straight to the kitchen where he finds Harry in front of the sink, rinsing out a mixing bowl with Jax strapped to his chest in the Boba Wrap he’s been obsessed with since Gemma bought it for him.
It isn’t unusual for Zayn to find his husband up in the middle of the night, wandering the house for something to clean or watching infomercials in the dark living room with a cup of tea nearby. He’s always been a night owl, something that Zayn doesn’t necessarily like considering he is a very cuddly sleeper and would rather have Harry beside him than folding laundry or ironing. Or in this case, baking.
“Shhh,” Harry coos as Jax starts to fuss, rocking from side to side as he brushes his lips over his son’s head. His baby boy is one now, the thought causing Harry to have to fight off tears. Earlier he’d stood over Jax’s crib and waited for the clock to strike midnight, wanting to be the first person to wish him a happy birthday. He hadn’t meant to wake Jax up when he reached down to smooth his hair back but he’d just stretched his little legs out and blinked his eyes open, squinting up at Harry. When he realized it was his daddy, Jax had given him a sleepy smile and Harry couldn’t help himself, he had to pluck him up out of bed and cuddle him.
“You’ll wake Baba,” he whispers, smiling when Jax blinks his eyes open. He’s honestly too big to be carrying around in that wrap but Harry doesn’t care. He’ll carry him forever if he asks, bad back be damned.
Jax snuffles against Harry’s chest, rubbing his eye with a chubby fist while the other hand pulls his pacifier from his mouth.
“Baba.”
“Baba’s sleeping,” Harry whispers, brushing a stray hair off of Jax’s forehead. He truly does need a trim but that’s another milestone that Harry can’t deal with right now. “We don’t want to wake him up, okay? Baba’s been working really hard, he needs his rest.”
“Baba,” Jax repeats a little louder and Harry’s just about to shush him again when Zayn let’s his presence be known.
“Are you looking for me, jaan?”
Harry and Jax both turn their heads to look at him, the younger Styles smiling, his dimples rivaling his father’s, while Harry frowns at him as he makes his way over.
“Did we wake you?” Harry asks, watching Zayn press a kiss to one of Jax’s dimples and moving to unwrap him when he reaches for Zayn.
“Saw you were gone,” Zayn shrugs, settling Jax on his hip, giving him another kiss because he’s right there and his skin is so soft. He smells like the expensive baby shampoo that Harry splurges on, insisting that he must maintain their son’s inherited curls to prevent it from frizzing up. “What are you doing?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Harry shrugs, turning back to the dishes.
“I see that.” Zayn huddles up behind him, resting his free hand on Harry’s hip. He knows Harry well enough to know that he needs physical contact when he’s feeling sensitive, it’s just the way he works. So Zayn presses his lips against Harry’s shoulder, then to the nape of his neck before walking to the refrigerator for a bottle. “What are you baking?”
“Red velvet cake with vanilla bean buttercream.” He looks over at where Zayn is leaning against the kitchen island, helping Jax hold up his bottle while Zayn chews on his bottom lip, watching Harry with what looks like the beginnings of a smirk.
“Don’t laugh.”
“No laughing here,” Zayn promises, swallowing the chuckle that had been a mere second away from escaping his mouth. “Three AM baking is serious business.”
“Now is not the time for teasing, Zayn. I’m very emotional.”
“I know, babes, come here.”
Harry shuffles over to them, Zayn pulling his into his side while they both watch Jax’s eyes flutter, a bit milk drunk as sleep takes him under again.
“How is he one already?” Harry whispers, running his knuckles across their son’s cheek. “He’s not supposed to grow this fast.”
“’fraid that’s how it works, love. Can’t keep him a baby forever.”
“I would if I could.”
“I know,” Zayn chuckles, pulling Harry closer as he tries to move away when Zayn’s breath tickles his neck. “Not that I’m against extra sweets but what’s it for? Didn’t we order a cake for his birthday?”
“For the party, yes, but I wanted to make him his first official birthday cake. I want it to be just the three of us, something we can experience alone before the house gets crowded and noisy.”
“Cake for breakfast?”
“Cake for breakfast,” Harry nods. “Just this once. Just for us.”
“You’re a sap,” Zayn says fondly, leaning over to kiss the corner of Harry’s mouth. “I love you.”
“Love you,” Harry whispers against Zayn’s lips before pressing them gently to his son’s temple. “Now go back to bed, you’re both crabby when you don’t get enough sleep.”
“How long will you be?” Zayn takes the bottle from Jax’s limp hands and gives it to Harry to rinse out.
“Fifteen minutes or so. I’ll frost it in the morning so just until it finishes baking.”
“Okay.” With one last kiss to Harry, Zayn shuffles back to their room with Jax tucked into his arm, his pacifier now replacing the bottle he’d finished. They don’t make a habit of
letting Jax sleep in their bed but it is his first birthday and maybe Zayn’s feeling a bit misty about it too.
He pulls back the blanket on his side and carefully sits down before scooting toward the center. He arranges an extra pillow between his and Harry’s, gently moving Jax to lay down in the middle of the bed. When he’s sure that his son is settled, he slides down until he’s lying beside him.
“I love you, jaan.” Zayn brushes a tiny curl from his forehead, smiling when Jax starts sucking harder on his pacifier and reaching for Zayn. Like his baba and daddy, he’s very much a cuddler.
He’s a mini Harry, which Zayn is absolutely ecstatic about. When he’d first brought up surrogacy, Harry had fought him tooth and nail for Zayn to be the donor.
“I’m nothing special, Zayn,” Harry had told him, cuddling closer on their couch as they looked through the paperwork the fertility clinic had given them. “I want him or her to look like you.”
“Tough luck, love, cuz I want a whole brood of Styles babies running wild.” Zayn tugged on an errant curl and leaned in, whispering against Harry’s lips. “And you’re wrong. You’re the most special.”
Zayn had won in the end, with Harry agreeing to biologically father their first child under the condition that Zayn gets a go at the second one. He also demanded that they choose an egg donor with Pakistani roots.
“Blood or not, I want you to be a part of this baby. Your heritage is important to you and it’s important to me. I want our children to have that.”
“Is he out?”
Zayn looks up from where he’d been watching Jax sleep, not realizing how much time had passed, and smiles at Harry as he walks into the room. He sheds his t-shirt as Zayn pulls back the sheets on Harry’s side for him and waits until he’s laying down before tossing them over his chest.
Harry carefully moves onto his side, scooting closer to cuddle his son and hold his husband’s hand. They both watch Jax sleep for a few minutes, his little snuffles and their breathing the only sound in the room until Harry speaks.
“How did we get so lucky?” he whispers, not bothering to blink back his tears. Zayn’s seen him cry hundreds of times and this certainly won’t be the last. “Sometimes when I look at him it hurts with how much I love him.”
“Me too,” Zayn hums, rubbing his thumb in circles over the back of Harry’s hand. He doesn’t bother to add that he feels that way every time he looks at Harry too.
---
Zayn wakes to the sound of muffled cursing and opens one eye as he looks toward the bedroom door. It opens not a moment later, Harry stepping in with a tray in his hands. He smiles when he sees Zayn’s awake and makes his way to the bed, carefully setting the tray down before climbing back in with his boys.
“What’s all this?” Zayn whispers, nodding his head toward the tray.
“Breakfast in bed.” Harry leans over their son and presses a soft kiss to Zayn’s mouth. “Shall we wake the birthday boy?”
“If we must,” Zayn rolls his eyes but he’s already smiling and reaching for Jax’s side, giving him a little tickle until he starts moving his legs about, pointing his toes and letting out sweet little grunts as he stretches.
“Good morning,” Harry murmurs, stroking Jax’s cheek while he comes to consciousness. “Happy birthday my sweet boy.”
Jax rolls over into Harry’s side and squirms until he’s fitted right against him as Zayn laughs. He’s much like Zayn when it comes to sleep. He loves it, and he can’t be startled or he’ll be fussy all day. No, he needs to be coaxed out of sleep with gentle touches and soft words, like how Harry used to have to wake Zayn before they had a baby.
“Just like Baba,” Harry laughs, rubbing his hand up and down Jax’s back as Zayn pushes himself into a sitting position.
He looks at the tray, where there is a giant slab of cake on a plate, one fork sitting beside it. There are two steaming mugs, one with Zayn’s usual black coffee and one with Harry’s breakfast blend tea along with a sip cup of milk for Jax. And because Harry is Harry and he can’t justify having just cake, there’s a bowl of finely diced fruit to counterbalance it.
They spend the next few minutes playing with Jax once he’s woken up. There are presents for him in the living room but they’ve decided to wait on those until their families come over in the afternoon.
Harry reaches for the plate and hands it to Zayn before grabbing the candle that he’d gotten at the market the day before. It’s a big, gaudy one carved in colored wax and Zayn absolutely loves it, as does Jax. He tries to grab for it but Harry tuts at him before carefully sticking it into the cake and lighting the wick.
Jax’s eyes shift between Zayn and Harry and the flickering candle as they sing. He has no idea what’s going on but he loves when people pay attention to him so before they finish singing he’s clapping along and laughing, so pleased to have both of his father’s attention on him.
Blowing out the candle involves more spit than either of them care to think about but Harry cuts the fork into the cake anyway, giving the first bite to Jax as he leans toward Harry with his mouth open.
“Is it good?” Harry asks him, smiling when Jax reaches for the fork himself. If they weren’t in their bed he would let Jax tear into it but they’ve got a smash cake for him later so Harry carefully feeds him another bite before cutting one for Zayn. “Good?” he asks, watching Zayn chew.
“So good,” Zayn hums, licking a bit of frosting from the corner of his mouth. “Not that I’m at all surprised.”
“Well, I used to be a baker, you know.” Harry laughs at Zayn’s eye roll because even after all the years they’ve been together, Harry still has to point that out any time that he bakes something. It used to drive Zayn mad but now it just makes him smile seeing Harry proud of himself, and sharing something that he loves with their son. And because he’s just as big a sap as his husband, Zayn can’t help but think that this, cake in bed with the two loves of his life, is what dreams are made of.