day-dreaming's what i do best

fic: Stole My Heart (Ziam)

berusama — Sun, 09 Sep 2012 12:34:13 GMT

Title: Right here with you, tonight
Rating: R
Warning(s): none
Disclaimer I cannot and do not own/know/associate with/stalk the real people mentioned herein. The following is a work of fiction. No money was made in its creation.
Summary: Liam tries to sleep through Zayn having a naughty dream. Until it becomes apparent that said dream is about him.
Author's Note: this is a cheat fill for Stole My Heart, because Zayn's dream is about meeting Liam in a club and having sex in the bathroom >_< unbeta'd.
AN2: i wanted this to be a somnophelia fic, but the boys refused to get it on until they had talked forever, so it's mostly just fluff. so frustrating.

To say that Liam is having trouble falling alseep tonight is a bit of an understatement.

When Zayn had fallen asleep next to him on Liam's bed, half-way through the movie, Liam figured they'd just be sharing the space tonight. They've done it plenty of times before and it's too cold in the room to get up and move to Zayn's bed anyway.

The problem, however, is that in all those times they've shared a bed, Zayn had always been a still, silent sleeper. And it's not like Liam needs the room to be completely quiet to fall asleep, but...

...when Zayn is making soft, grunting noises in his sleep that let Liam know exactly what kind of dream he's having, well, Liam's finding it a little difficult to focus on sleep.

He just keeps laying there, waiting for Zayn to make another noise or shift again. It's been twenty minutes since he turned the TV off and still he's wide awake.

The duvet bunches suddenly over what Liam assumes is Zayn's hand, and he lets out this soft sort of pant that ghosts faintly over Liam's bare shoulder.

Right, Liam thinks and is about to brave the cold of the room and Zayn's empty bed, because getting hard to the sound of his friend having a sex dream is not something Liam ever wants to experience, when Zayn lets out a soft moan.

Liam freezes, muscles still tense from being about to climb out of bed, and stares wide-eyed at the ceiling because either he's going crazy or Zayn just moaned his name. In his sleep. While having a sex dream.

This is not happening, Liam tells himself, but it doesn't stop the shudder that wracks his shoulders when Zayn keens lowly.

Slowly, Liam turns onto his side to face Zayn. He can just make out his profile in the dark, and he looks like he's in pain. Except for how his lips are parted sensually, and his eyebrows can't seem to decide if they want to swoop up or down, and the way his chest rises and falls with each quickened breath.

Liam stares at him for minutes, never mind how many, waiting and telling himself that he misheard. Until...

"Li," Zayn says on a soft moan, turning his hips further into the matteress, and Liam can practically feel the blood filling his dick, it happens so suddenly.

"Fuck," Liam breathes, still looking at Zayn. "Fuck, fuck." He may or may not being panicking a little.

Part of him wants to shove at Zayn's shoulder until he wakes up and grumbles at Liam to get his own bed, and part of Liam wants to shove he's own hand down Zayn's sweats and finish the job Zayn's brain started.

Liam tries to push the latter thoughts away, but it's night and he's in bed, and he's conditioned himself to believe that this is the only time such thoughts are acceptable, so that doesn't really work.

He considers getting his ipod to drown out the noises, but that would involve getting up and if he's going to get up then he might as well go to Zayn's bed, and that would involve finding socks to help combat the cold duvet, so Liam just stays and keeps staring at Zayn like a proper creeper.

Zayn grunts again and actually pushes his hips into the matteress and what the fuck, because Liam could have sworn he'd learned that dreams really only last a matter of seconds or something. Is Zayn having multiple sex dreams about Liam? If he is, will be remember any of them in the morning? Will he be more likely to remember if Liam helps him reach the natural conclusion of said dreams? Is Liam actually losing his mind by thinking such a thing in the first place?

Liam's thought are interrupted by Zayn letting out a short whoosh of breath and humps the matteress again, and before Liam can stop himself, his arm has shot out and is gently nudging Zayn's shoulder.

"Zayn," he whispers, trying to wake him up, but Zayn only rolls with Liam's touch, because he's a deep-sleeping bastard, and ends up sprawled out onto his back.

"Oh, god," Liam whispers to no one because now he can see all of Zayn's face, and that's really only made things worse.

Zayn keens pitifully and Liam glares, whispering, "What do you want me to do?" exasperatedly.

Except, well, he already knows what to do, and so does his body, seeing as how it's inching its way toward Zayn's.

The duvet has already fallen down from around Zayn's shoulders, so Liam just helps it a little, running his hand down Zayn's arm, all the way to his hand. The skin on his shoulder is much colder than the skin of his forearm, so Liam rubs at it a little, cupping Zayn's shoulder in a completely friendly kind of way.

Zayn sighs, turns his head towards Liam, and then turns the rest of his body too. But, what with Liam being so close now, he mostly ends up on top of Liam.

So now Liam's on his back with Zayn's front pressed to his side, which mean Zayn's hard-on is in full contact with his thigh, and Liam is pretty much torn between laughing at his own fate and crying over the unfairness of it all.

"If you start humping my thigh," Liam whispers, "I will be very cross with you."

Zayn simply nuzzles into the crook of Liam's neck and shoulder.

Liam rests his head against the top of Zayn's and tries very hard to focus all of his attention on the warmth of Zayn's body next to him and the comfort of the matterss under him.

It still takes longer than it should, but eventually Liam is able to drift off to sleep.

When Liam wakes up an undetermined amount of time later, it's still dark in their room and he's on his side. Spooned behind Zayn. With a massive hard-on, pressed right up to Zayn's ass.

He wonders if maybe that's what woke him, and if he'll ever be able to share a bed with Zayn agian, and if he should just try to go back to sleep and deal with any potential awkward in the morning, when Zayn shifts.

But, like, not a normal shift one makes while asleep -- which Zayn never does anyway -- or even the restless movements he was making earlier during his dream, but a full-on 'let me press my ass back into your groin' shift that has Liam clenching at the material of Zayn's t-shirt over his side.

After a moment, Zayn's head turns ever so slightly so that his face is pressed further into the pillow, and Liam just knows that he's at least partially awake.

So Liam does what any sane person would do: he waits. He's not quite sure what he's waiting for, or if Zayn will fall back asleep, or what time it is, but he waits.

He's just about to drift off again when Zayn's hips push back into his again and this time Liam is just out-of-it enough that he doesn't quite bite back the soft moan that slips past his lips. Zayn's body tenses against Liam and, yeah, he's totally awake. Liam narrows his eyes at the back of Zayn's head. He can't quite believe that Zayn would take advantage of him in his sleep, but then again, Liam is the one with his dick pressed into Zayn's ass.

'Fine,' he thinks. He'll just give Zayn a taste of his own medicine.

Trying not to smile, Liam closes his eyes, eases all the tension out of his body and sighs sleepily against the back of Zayn's neck. After a few tense moments, Liam pushes his hips forward and breathes out, "Zayn," in his best immitation of Zayn's own sex-dream moans.

Liam can feel the rush of air leave Zayn's lungs from where he's pressed up against his back, and has to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

He's expecting Zayn to pull away, to get up maybe, or to shove Liam to his own side of the bed, but what he's not expecting is for Zayn to slowly lace his fingers through Liam's where they're resting at Zayn's side, and rock his hips back into Liam's intentionally.

The groan that excapes Liam this time is real, and Liam screws his eyes shut because Zayn has pulled their hands up to his mouth and has his open lips pressed to Liam's fingers. When Zayn exhales hotly and then follows his breath with his tongue along Liam's middle finger, Liam's hips stutter forward of their own volition. He clenches his hand around Zayn's and Zayn's body instantly goes from pliant to tense.

Liam waits, staring at the back of Zayn's neck until finally...

"Liam?" Zayn whispers, quiet enough that had Liam been asleep, he wouldn't have been disturbed. Liam wants to be debating whether or not to answer, wants to be actually thinking about this at least a little, but really his mind is just blank with the desire to turn Zayn over and finish what they both started.

"Yeah?" Liam breathes, not even a whisper, low and quiet enough that Zayn could ignore it if he wanted. He hears Zayn swallow.

Then Zayn's hair is rasping against the pillow as he bows his head forward and presses his lips to where their hands are still intertwined. Liam can feel his own lips pulling up as he leans just that much closer to Zayn and presses his lips to the back of Zayn's neck, right over his tattoo.

There's a pause, and Liam is pretty sure they're both holding their breath, before Zayn begins to turn slowly onto his back. Liam leans up just the tiniest bit as Zayn's face is revealed to him. He's looking up at the ceiling, and Liam doesn't know if he's waiting or stalling or what, but their fingers are still tangled together so he squeezes Zayn's gently.

Zayn's eyes cut to him, then back to the ceiling, then back to Liam. He looks anxious and somehow that gives Liam the confidence to plunge forward.

"So," Liam whispers, drawing the word out. "Heard you dreaming about me earlier."

Immediately Zayn's face scrunches up in embarassed amusement. "Oh fuck," he groans softly.

"Yeah," Liam says, laughter in his voice. "Sounded like a pretty great dream."

"Shut up," Zayn says and rolls toward Liam to burry his face between Liam's side and the mattress. The rest of his body gets pressed right up against Liam's front, right into Liam's hard-on. "Not like you have any room to talk," Zayn mutters into the mattress.

Liam opens his mouth to say he was faking it, but then again: hard-on. "You started it," Liam says instead, poking at Zayn's side in an attempt to make him roll over. Zayn jerks away from Liam, giggling, and in the process his thigh comes up to nestle between Liam's.

"So?" Zayn says, still squirming away from Liam, who props himself up to give chase on his hands and knees. "You trying to say you want me to finish it too?"

Liam stops, hands braced on either side of Zayn's head, and gives Zayn a look that should say, 'you said it, not me,' but might actually look more like, 'yes, please'.

Zayn's face softens. His hair is sticking out at all angles, and his t-shirt is too big on him and his breath smells like stale mint, but Liam is still struck by how much he just wants him. Wants his face next to Liam's on the pillow and wants his scent on Liam's clothes, wants his teasing flirtation to be real and not just on stage, wants to be allowed to stare at him while he reads and harmonize with him in the shower. Liam just wants Zayn and normally these thoughts are forbidden when Zayn is looking at him, but it's the middle of the night and Liam's allowed. He's allowed to want right now.

"Because I will..." Zayn says, lowly, and Liam has to think for a moment before he can place the context of Zayn's statement. And then his brain fries a little.

"What?" he says, when really he just wants to be kissing Zayn. "Why? What?"

"Why?" Zayn repeats, lifting his eyebrows at Liam. "Do you even pay attention when I'm around you?"

"Of course I do," Liam says quickly, more like exhales the words in one breath, because he can't quite believe this conversation is going where it seems to be headed. "I can't not pay attention."

Zayn's face clears suddenly and Liam can practically feel the moment closing in around them.

"This whole time... did you think I was just messing around?"

"Yeah," Liam says, nodding.

Zayn exhales softly and even though his eyebrows swoop down, he's starting to smile. "I just thought you were really really straight."

Liam huffs out a laugh and suddenly he feels like he could run a million miles or fly or just cry because something in his chest has unclenched and he feels lighter than ever.

"Zayn I-" he stops himself, unsure where he was going with that. He what? Has been waiting for this conversation for years? Is terrified of what this means for them now that it's happening? Wants to kiss him so badly that he feels like he's about to vibrate out of his skin? "I really like you."

And even if that's nothing like the things he wanted to say, Zayn beams at him like it's all he wanted to hear.

"I really like you too."

Liam nods and says, "Cool," but his brain is going into hyper-drive because what does this mean and what is allowed and what's too much and is this a dream because it seems pretty real, but his dreams about Zayn always seem real when they're happening.

But then Zayn grins up at him and Liam's brain presses mute on his thoughts and worries. They're still there, but they're silent now in the presence of Zayn's smile.

"I feel like we should be kissing," Zayn says softly, still smiling.

"Okay," Liam says, because there's really nothing else to say, and dips his head down until his lips are pressed gently against Zayn's.

Zayn arches up into the kiss, a firm press of lips until he shifts slightly, and then their lips are slotting together and Liam can feel heat and moisture and everything perfect in the world.

He opens his mouth a little and the wet little noises their lips make cause his ears to burn, but in the best possible way. Carefully, he eases himself down on top of Zayn until their legs are tangled just like their lips and he can feel the length of Zayn's erection pressed to his hip.

Zayn nudges his hips up and his tongue darts out to swipe across Liam's lower lip, and Liam can't help the soft groan that sounds at the back of his throat. His own hips grind down almost instinctually, and he runs a hand down Zayn's torso, then back up under his shirt.

Zayn's skin is soft and smooth, and Liam loves the way he arches into his gentle touches. When he actually gasps from Liam's fingers over his nipple, Liam swallows and shifts so that he's braced more above Zayn. This time when he grinds his hips down, their erections are lined up next to each other and the kiss breaks as they pant into each other's mouths.

"Liam," Zayn whispers. His hands are trailing their way down Liam's back until they rest unabashedly on his arse, and then Zayn is bending his knees and pressing up as he pulls Liam's hips down. "C'mon."

Liam huffs out a laugh and palms Zayn's thigh. "Okay," he says, "okay, wait. I want-"

When he doesn't finish his sentence, Zayn tips his head to the side and gives Liam a small, encouraging smile.

"What do you want?" he asks, like no matter what it is, he'd be able to make it happen for Liam. Like it's the easiest question in the world.

"Here," Liam says, unsure of how to put it into words right now. He slides to the side and then gently guides Zayn to roll until he's on his side with Liam spooned up behind him.

It's the same position they were in when Zayn thought Liam was having the naughty dream, but this time Liam's hand hand is creeping down Zayn's chest, towards his boxers.

"Yeah," Zayn breathes out in a rush, and the only problem with this position is that Liam can't see Zayn's face right now. That's easily remedied, however, when Zayn leans back over his shoulder to press a kiss to the corner of Liam's mouth.

Liam slots their lips together again, and boldly slips his hand past the waistband of Zayn's boxers.

Zayn exhales a rush of air straight into Liam's mouth as soon as his hand curls around the base of Zayn's cock. "Shit, Liam," he says, his voice low gravely.

Liam shoves his own hips forward into Zayn's arse, shoves forward as his hand pumps down Zayn's cock, and it's almost perfect.

"Wait," Liam says, the loudest he's been all night, and he springs up from the bed.

"What?" Zayn gapes at him, but stops when he sees Liam shucking his underwear and digging in his bag for something.

Wisely, by the time Liam returns, Zayn's underwear has disappeared too.

"Okay?" Liam asks as he kneels back onto the bed behind Zayn, waving a small bottle of lube. Zayn nods and pulls Liam back down into their spooning position.

Liam slicks up his own dick and slowly presses it up to Zayn's bare ass. Zayn shivers and then pushes back. Liam's dick slips between his cheeks and it's kind of the best thing ever.

In appreciation, Liam wraps his still-slick hand around Zayn's dick and begins to pump his hand and hips in earnest.

Zayn groans, reaching back to claw at Liam's hips and urge him to move faster. Liam tightens his grip, and Zayn starts keening low in his throat.

"Please," he gasps, barely loud enough for Liam to hear him, "please, don't stop."

Liam keeps up the speed until Zayn is arching against him and coming, miraculously, into Liam's fist.

When Zayn collapses, Liam lifts his hand, feeling the lube and come between his fingers and it should be disgusting, but honestly he's kind of fascinated by it.

"C'mere," Zayn says, and then he's grabbing Liam's hand and scooping as much of the gunk off as he can. He turns, moving quicker than Liam would have thought from a Zayn who just orgasmed, but then Zayn gets his hand around him and Liam stops thinking entirely.

Zayn's pace is quick but the lube and spunk ease the way and soon, Liam is thrusting into each pump, his clean hand in Zayn's hair and his lips against Zayn's cheek.

"So good," he manages to gasp, trying to force his hips as close to Zayn as he can get them, his entire body tense and on the verge of breaking.

Then Zayn whispers, "Come on, come for me," like it's all he wants, and Liam does not disappoint.

Once Liam returns to consciousness and they've cleaned up and migrated to Zayn's freezing but clean bed across the room, he pulls Zayn close under the cold sheets and asks, "Will you tell me about your dream?"

Zayn laughs the exhausted laugh of someone already half-asleep, and the sound makes Liam grin against the top of Zayn's head.

"Yeah," Zayn says, his breath puffing out across Liam's chest. "Tomorrow."

"Okay," Liam agrees, trapping Zayn's cold feet between his own. "Tomorrow."

fic: Up All Night (Ziam)

berusama — Fri, 31 Aug 2012 00:00:43 GMT

Title: Only Thinking 'Bout This Girl I'm Seeing...
Rating: hard R
Warning(s): femmeslash
Disclaimer: I cannot and do not own/know/associate with/stalk the real people mentioned herein. The following are works of fiction. No money was made in their creation.
Summary: Sequel to One Thing. Leah and Zaynah go all the way.
AN: part of my Up All Night, Ziam Edition master plan. this is the fill for Up All Night.

When Lucy walks into the house she and Zaynah are going to be sharing with, like, twenty other third-years -- and okay, it's only six, but they've only just moved in and the place is already so messy it looks like twenty people's worth of shit is laying around -- Zaynah's standing on a chair on top of the coffee table, trying to get a sock down off the ceiling fan.

Zaynah knows that she looks ridiculous, but their party is going to start in less than three hours and no one else is cleaning up, so she keeps reaching and hopes that she isn't about to fall to her death.

"Have you tried, like, a broom?" Lucy asks in lieu of a greeting.

"We don't have a broom," Zaynah says, hoping to convey how much that bothers her since they obviously need one. She lifts up onto her toes dangerously and is just able to snag the sock with her fingertips. Once she's climbed down off the tower of death she'd constructed, she turns to Lucy. "Why did we agree to live with boys?"

"Because," Lucy says, coming up to sling an arm around Zaynah's shoulders, "we were slackers who foolishly hoped the university would let us live on campus with our second-year girlfriends and therefore did not find a place to live until much too late." She takes the sock from Zaynah, twirling it around a few times. "This is mine, by the way."

Zaynah groans and buries her smile in Lucy's shoulder. It's a move that should be awkward, seeing as how she's only known Lucy for about three months now, but it's not. There's something about the five of them together, ever since that first night at the pub. They've been almost inseparable since then, and not just because Leah and Zaynah are dating and so they all inadvertently end up hanging out, but because they all genuinely enjoy being around each other. It's strange -- Zaynah isn't used to having so many good friends, let alone people she considers good friends after such a short amount of time -- but it's wonderful in its strangeness.

"Did you get everything for tonight?" she asks when Lucy has stopped petting her hair soothingly.

"Not everything. I told Matt and Aiden to get the drinks."

Zaynah pulls away to look Lucy in the eye. "You left the most important ingredient of this party in the hands of those two? I told them to move all their stuff out of the living room last week and it's still here."

Lucy laughs. "Yes, but this is beer and that is cleaning up after themselves. Two totally different priorities."

Zaynah drops her head back down onto Lucy's shoulder. "Do you think the university will notice if I just move in with the others? I could live in their hallway closet; that thing's huge."

Lucy laughs and pats Zaynah's head again. "You know we'll will be there often enough. But tonight--" and here she turns toward Zaynah, grasping both her shoulders, "--the party is here! So you go set up the kitchen, and I'll finish cleaning up in here."

"Deal," Zaynah says gratefully, she makes her way to the kitchen. Within minutes, Lucy is blasting something upbeat and electronic from the sound system.

By the time Zaynah has all the crips and finger foods and sweets opened and poured into various-sized bowls, Lucy has managed to not only make everyone's shit disappear but also push all the furniture to the sides of the room so the center is open and ready for dancing.

"I love you," Zaynah says, standing in the doorway between the living room and the back patio where Lucy is setting up the beer pong tables.

"As you should," Lucy says, not looking up from where she's pushing two old doors they found at the dump into an 'x' shape.

Zaynah watches her for a moment before asking, "You get Harrie's text?"

"Yeah." She looks up at Zaynah then, a wicked grin on her face. "Excited to see your girl?"

Zaynah blushes because, well, yeah.

Their timing had been a little off; they'd both gone off to their hometowns for the summer shortly after their first date, and it's been weeks since Leah last drove to visit her in Bradford. The thought of being in the same city as her again makes Zaynah's heartbeat pick up noticeably.

But besides that, Zaynah's excited because she may or may not be hoping that Leah will want to spend the night here tonight. It's the next step in their relationship after almost three months of daily phone calls and kisses scattered over weeks apart, and it's how Zaynah wants to start their year, and it's the perfect night for it since school won't have started yet and their schedules are still open and free and...

Zaynah has so many reasons why tonight should be the night, but she hasn't exactly explained any of this to Leah yet.

And it's not like she should be nervous about Leah not wanting to, because their past couple make-out sessions got pretty damn heavy and she knows it wasn't just her making breathy little noises into their kisses.

It's just, well... it's stupid really, but when she was checking the Facebook event for their party earlier, she saw that Danielle was going to be coming tonight, and it's kind of shot her confidence.

It's not because she thinks there's still anything going on between her and Leah, she knows there's not, but Zaynah's met Danielle. She knows how gorgeous she is and how her body is all long and softly curved and so unlike Zaynah's own too-skinny, too-flat body. And she knows that Danielle will be dancing tonight with everyone and that no one will be able to keep their eyes off her when she moves, and what if Leah's just not in the mood after seeing her ex like that? Because Zaynah can't dance and even though she bought a push-up bra on a whim just for tonight, she knows she doesn't look as good as Danielle will.

"You alright?" Lucy asks, suddenly in Zaynah's space. "You look like you're about to strain something."

Zaynah consiously relaxes her shoulders and smiles at Lucy in a hopefully convincing manner. "No, I'm fine. Gonna go shower, yeah?"

"Alright," Lucy says, but she's obviously letting Zaynah off the hook.

Zaynah grabs her towel from her room and makes her way into the bathroom.

She takes her time in the shower before drying off and going back to her room to change. It's almost a little embrassing how well the push-up bra works, and Zaynah wonders for a moment if it'll look like she's trying too hard, but then she decides that she doesn't really care. She looks good and that's what matters.

A bright purple camisol and a loose blue tank top follow, before Zaynah pulls on short white shorts. She combs and dries her hair, and then she styles it the way that Leah is always commenting on: down and gently curled. Leah's the only one who's allowed to touch her hair when she's styled it like this because she's the only one who's careful enough not to mess it up.

Make-up comes next, just a bit of eyeliner, plenty of mascara, and a little lip tint.

And, of course, she's been looking in the mirror through this whole process, but when she finally steps back to really see herself, she can't help but make an impressed sort of noise in the back of her throat.

"I'd fuck me," she says to her own reflection, and she can't help laughing at herself. Slipping on her sandals, Zaynah makes her way to Lucy's room, where she can hear her singing softly.

Zaynah knocks gently before pushing the door open.

"They're just finishing up un--" Lucy stops speaking mid-sentence once the striped shirt she was pulling over her head is no longer covering her face. "Damn."

Zaynah can't help the pleased grin that spreads across her face.

"Why Miss Malik," Lucy says in her poshest accent, "you look positively ravishing! I dare say, someone is going to get lucky tonight!"

Zaynah laughs and almost says, "Good," but holds it back at the last second.

"They'll be here soon, then?" she says instead.

"Well they just finished unpacking, so they might not be here before others start showing up, but they'll be here soon."

Zaynah nods as Lucy pulls on a pair of bright red chinos.

"How do I look, then?" she asks, fluffing her short hair up and out.

"Normal," Zaynah answers, deadpan.

"Oh, you flatterer," Lucy coos.

The front door opens noisily then and the sounds of a keg being dragged across the tile floor follow shortly.

"See?" Lucy grins at her. "Beer is always priority number one!"

- - -

The party is just starting to pick up when Harrie's presence is announced by every party-goer in the living room suddenly shouting 'Eyyy!' like it's some sort of frat party or something.

Lucy is across the room in a matter of seconds, grabbing Harrie and swinging her around, hedless of the other people around them who suddenly have to dodge this particular display of affection.

Zaynah's heart jumps into her throat as she watches the scene from up on the platform they made for the sound system and laptops. From here, she has the perfect view of Leah when she finally walks into the house behind Harrie and Nia. Her hair has gotten a little longer, curling gently around her ears and falling into her eyes. She's wearing long shorts that hug her hips and ass, and her t-shirt looks like she bought it in the men's section, but it hangs off her in a way that hints at the perfect body underneath. Zaynah's chest constricts, her heart seeming to pause for a second before setting a quick beat to make up for it.

She can see Leah scanning the crowd, and she holds her ground until Leah looks up to where Zaynah's standing and their eyes lock. The smile Leah gives her is too much to resist, and Zaynah is down off the platform, moving with a single-minded purpose into Leah's arms.

Leah buries her face against Zaynah's neck, wraps her arms around her waist, and squeezes until Zaynah's sure it will be simpler to just become one person than try to seperate.

"Missed you," Leah says under the pulse of the music, before pressing her lips to Zaynah's neck.

"Missed you too," Zaynah says, leaning back just enough to press her lips to Leah's cheek, her jaw, the side of her mouth.

She can feel Leah's lips curve up and then they are kissing properly and it's been weeks since they got to do this. Zaynah tries to feel everything at once: Leah's body pressed flush, soft and warm, against hers, Leah's hands as they sweep slowly up her back and into her hair, Leah's tongue as it licks into her mouth, chasing after Zaynah's.

Eventually Leah pulls back and rests her forehead against Zaynah's. Zaynah feels her eyelids flutter open, and she leans forward for one more press of their lips before leaning back to look at Leah.

"You're so beautiful," Leah breathes, and Zaynah feels herself flush with pleasure.

"You're pretty gorgeous, yourself," Zaynah says, settling her arms around Leah's neck.

Leah huffs out a laugh and shakes her head a little, like she always does when Zaynah tries to tell her how attractive she is. Zaynah tightens her arms and rubs her nose across Leah's. She's overcome by the desire to just ditch the party and lead Leah upstairs to her room to talk about everything that's happened since they last saw each other, or maybe not talk at all.

Leah seems to read her mind. "Too bad you're hosting," she says, "otherwise we could sneak away right now."

Zaynah laughs and is about to suggest they do just that when someone next to them says, "Is it my turn, yet?"

Zaynah turns her head just in time to see Nia throw her arms around them both. She's about to pull one of her arms free to hook around Nia's shoulders, but then Harrie and Lucy are there, joining the group hug with over-enthusiastic 'aaawwwww's, and all Zaynah can do is laugh and give in to the reunion.

The next few hours fly by in a blur of beer pong, dancing and discreetly trying to make out in dark corners. They run out of beer and food pretty quickly, and Luce manages to break a table because her definition of sexy dancing involves a lot of jumping, but regardless, everyone seems to agree that it's a pretty great party. Throughout all of it, Leah is never farther than arm's length away, aways touching her and smoothing her hands up and down Zaynah's bare arms and fitting their hips together and kissing the back of her neck.

Zaynah is so turned on, she can feel how wet she already is every time she moves, but the build-up is as delicious as it is torturous.

She doesn't even think about Danielle until they're headed back onto the "dance floor" in the living room. Nia has been playing nothing but Katy Perry for the past twenty minutes and Zaynah just knows it's meant taunt her. When Last Friday Night comes on, Zaynah grabs Leah's hand and pulls her into the house (they'd just lost to Harrie and Lucy at beer pong -- she never claimed to be good at it -- so what the hell). But suddenly Danielle's there, sandwhiched between two people and dancing like she doesn't know everyone is watching her.

Zaynah turns back around to see if Leah wants to try making out in the bathroom again, but as soon as she turns, Leah's hands slip into her back pockets and pull Zaynah's hips flush against her own. Zaynah runs her hands up Leah's arms and circles them around Leah's shoulders. When Leah leans forward, Zaynah meets her halfway.

They've only been doing this -- kissing and pressing and touching freely -- for a few weeks in-all, and sometimes it still feels new and reawakens the butterflies in Zaynah's chest, but sometimes, like now, it feels like they've been doing this for ages. Like their lips were made for eachother and when they touch, they're really just coming home.

She doesn't mean to, but when Zaynah pulls back the first thing out of her mouth is, "D'you want to go upstairs?"

Leah is pulling her toward the staircase before Zaynah can even register that she said yes.

By the time they reach the stairs, Zaynah has caught up mentally and physically and she takes the lead, practically pushing Leah into the room when they get there and slamming the door closed. They're on each other within seconds, hands in hair and lips pressed firmly together.

"I've," Leah says, but she interrupts herself with another kiss. "I've wanted to get you alone since I saw you. You're so fucking gorgeous."

Zaynah exhales through a grin and kisses Leah hard before admitting, "I dressed up just for you."

"I couldn't stop staring at you all night."

"Good," Zaynah says. She runs her hands down Leah's sides and slips the tips of her fingers under the hem of Leah's t-shirt to ghost along the top of her shorts.

Leah inhales deeply through her nose and begins to walk Zaynah backwards, until her legs hit the side of her bed. She watches Zaynah crawl onto the bed before kneeling onto the mattress to loom over her.

There's a moment where they stare at each other's moonlit faces, and Zaynah almost wants to look away, because processing the look that Leah is giving her is too much for her brain right now. She doesn't look away, though, probably couldn't even if she tried. Instead she grabs at Leah's neck and waist and pulls her down.

Leah's hips settle first, one leg between both of Zaynah's, one to the right, and then she lowers herself into the kiss, forearms coming down to bracket Zaynah's head.

When Leah traces her tongue across the roof of Zaynah's mouth, Zaynah tilts her hips up, just enough to increase the pressure against her clit. Immediately Leah grinds back down onto Zaynah's thigh.

Zaynah waits a beat and then pushes up again, as Leah circles her hips down, and just like that they've caught each other's rythm.

Every movement is slick and heated, and Zaynah almost doesn't notice that Leah is slowly inching her hand up under her shirts. When her thumb brushes across the thick padding of her bra, Zaynah gives up on all pretenses of going slow and sits up just enough to try to pull her tank top off.

Leah quickly catches on to what she's trying to do, and together they manage to strip each other down to their bras. Zaynah takes care of that too, and then Leah presses on her shoulder until she's laying back down, chest heaving and flushed. Leah just looks at her for a moment, one palm running up Zaynah's left side, and then Leah's face is at her chest, licking and sucking the supple flesh.

Zaynah's fingers curl into Leah's hair as her neck arches back against the mattress.

"Lee," Zaynah pants. She takes a deep breath, pushing her breasts up into Leah's mouth, loving the way she holds her down.

"Yeah," Leah says, "I'm gonna... Alright?"

Zaynah has no idea what she's talking about until she realizes that Leah's mouth is now at her ribs, steadily kissing down her stomach.

"Yeah," Zaynah breathes, not even sure what she's agreeing to but knowing she wants it regardless.

When Leah gets to her shorts and starts undoing them, Zaynah springs into action, sitting up to help get them off. She lifts her hips, and Leah slides the shorts down her legs.

"You too," she says, reaching for Leah's shorts, because they might as well take care of this now. Once they're both down to their underwear, Leah leans forward, kisses Zaynah once and then shoves her back down onto the bed.

Zaynah giggles as she bounces on the mattress, but the sound gets caught in her throat when Leah licks a fat stripe across the inside of her thigh. Her legs fall open, and Zaynah only spares half a thought for how wanton she must look before her mind checks out because holy fuck, Leah is kissing down the center of her underwear.

"Leah," she gasps.

"Yeah?" Leah says, her voice lower than normal.

"It's been awhile since anyone's been down there," she admits staring up at the ceiling, though she knows Leah is looking at her.

She hears Leah huff out a laugh, and then what she's pretty sure is Leah's nose runs back up where her lips had just been.

"Do you want me to?" she asks. Zaynah can feel her hovering over her hips, but she still doesn't look down.

"Yes, yes, I just--"

Only, she doesn't know what she 'just', she only knows that this is a really big step for them and she wants it to be perfect. Whatever Leah interprets from Zaynah's silence, she crawls her way back up until she can catch Zaynah's eye.

"Just what?" she whispers.

Zaynah shakes her head and lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug because she really doesn't know. Gently, she reaches up and brushes Leah's hair back from her face. Leah smiles down at her and slowly shifts so that she can settle on her side, pressed up to Zaynah. Her right hand strokes down Zaynah's side as she leans forward for a kiss.

And while kissing is always amazing, Zaynah can't help but be hyper-aware of Leah's hand as it inches it's way across her hip and dips beneath the band of her underwear.

When Leah drags one finger down her pussy and then presses the heel of her hand against Zaynah's clit, the air rushes from Zaynah's lungs, only to be sucked back in just as quick. It breaks the kiss, but Leah seems content to simply nuzzle at Zaynah's neck and jaw while her fingers coax Zaynah to relax.

"Wow," Leah whispers. "You're really wet."

Zaynah laughs and says, "Shut up," before admitting, "I've been wet all night."

"Yeah?" Leah asks, grazing his teeth up Zaynah's neck.

"Yeah," Zaynah says, arching her neck to allow Leah better access. "I must have forgotten how gorgeous you are. Wanted to drag you up here the second you walked in the door."

Leah laughs against her neck. "Me? What about you. I thought I was going to die when I saw you. When you were getting ready did you think to yourself, 'Hm, I wonder which outfit will give Leah a heart attack'?"

"Yes," Zaynah jokes, and there's more she could say, would normally keep the banter going, but Leah's fingers have started to tease their way inside of her, and talking is suddenly her last priority. She grabs a hold of Leah's wrist and pushes the heel of her hand harder against her clit as she grinds her hips up.

Leah groans softly and pushes her own hips up against Zaynah's. She shifts her fingers and Zaynah's grip on her wrist tightens.

"There!" Zaynah gasps. "There there there." Her eyes slamming shut and her neck arches back as the pleasure coursing through her belly is ratcheted up until she swears she can feel it in her teeth.

"Don't stop," she pleads, vaguely aware that this is their first time and that she's completely at Leah's mercy and hoping that she doesn't look too ridiculous in the throes of passion.

Leah doesn't say anything, but she does grab Zaynah's free hand and lick right across the palm. Zaynah's hips jerk and she shifts Leah's hand just so against her clit until she's spasming around her fingers.

Zaynah knows she's not a screamer or a talker, but she can never seem to breath normally when she's just at the brink of orgasm. She wonders if Leah will think it's weird or fake-sounding, but it's a dull sort of wondering that happens through a cloud of bliss. When her breathing is back to normal and Leah's fingers have stopped stroking her, Zaynah leans up to kiss Leah and roll them over at the same time.

"That was fucking amazing," she whispers before kissing down Leah's neck and across her collar bones. She licks her way down further, until Leah lets out a soft giggle when she licks over a nipple.

"Are you ticklish?" she asks, grinning up at Leah as her hands trail down her waist to her underwear.

"Yeah," Leah says with a laugh, and then she lifts her hips so Zaynah can slip her underwear off.

Zaynah hums and then goes back to kissing down Leah's torso. She licks under her breasts and across her ribs, and then she settles between Leah's legs, spreading them gently with her hands under Leah's knees.

"What--?" Leah says, perhaps suddenly realizing what Zaynah's planning to do, but she cuts herself off as soon as Zaynah licks up to her clit.

"--the fuck, okay, yeah, oh god," Leah finishes, and apparently she is a talker.

Zaynah's heard the old joke about writing the alphabet with your tongue too many times to not have tried it once or twice, but she prefers her own method, which she mentally refers to as 'the ocean technique' for the way she rolls her tongue up and then sucks gently as she rolls it back down, like the undertow of receding waves. It takes less concentration and it sets up a rhythm that girls can work their hips to, if they want.

Soon Leah's fingers are threading through Zaynah's hair and her hips begin to roll in time with Zaynah's tongue.

"Ah, Zayn, Zaynah," Leah pants, and Zaynah really wishes she could see her face properly, "oh god, harder, please."

Zaynah shoves her tongue in and sucks harder on the way down and Leah's fingers clench in her hair, pulling almost painfully. She can feel her muscles clenching and pulling at her tongue, but she doesn't let up, just keeps rolling and sucking until Leah is keening and pushing her face further between her legs.

"Oh god," Leah says suddenly on an exhale, "come on, please," and then she is coming again and squeezing Zaynah all over: her tongue, her hair, her shoulders. Zaynah turns her head and gently bites at the flesh of Leah's thigh until her legs drop open and Zaynah can climb up the bed.

Zaynah cuddles up to Leah and wipes at her face while she waits for her to come down.

"That wasn't fair," Leah says eventually.

"You're right," Zaynah agrees. "We'll go for three next time."

Leah laughs and shoves at her shoulder. "You know what I mean. You can go down on me, but I can't go down on you?"

"You can," Zaynah says, turning to tuck her body into Leah's. "I promise you can. I just..." Zaynah strokes her hand across Leah's ribs and tilts her head up to look into her eyes. "I just wanted you closer for the first time."

Leah's face softens, and she leans down to kiss Zaynah gently.

The music is still blaring down stairs -- because whenever Nia gets behind a DJ station, she tries to make the foundations of the house shake -- and Zaynah feels wide awake, but there's no way she's leaving this bed.

Leah's breath huffs out against her shoulder and then Zaynah can feel her smile pressed into the skin there. Zaynah runs her hand up Leah's back and whispers, "What?"

Leah shrugs gently. "Just happy," she whispers back.

Zaynah can't help but let the smile split her face. She burrows closer to Leah and whispers, "Me too."

fic: Stand Up (Ziam)

berusama — Mon, 27 Aug 2012 08:45:40 GMT

Title: You Can Call Me A Thief
Rating:
Warning(s):
Disclaimer:
Summary:
AN:

Simon has this terribly annoying habit of calling people into his office and then making them stand there, waiting for his attention just so they can know what exactly he wanted with them in the first place.

It's the reason he doesn't keep more than one chair in his office. He likes to keep people on their toes. Literally.

Currently, Liam is the one waiting for Simon to stop tapping away at his keyboard. Liam, however, has done this dance enough times to know that if he fidgets, or displays indications of impatience at all, Simon will only make him wait longer.

It's another forty-five seconds before Simon sits back, takes his glasses off and turns to Liam with absolutely no expression of surprise or penance.

"You're back," he says.

"Yes," Liam answers. He doesn't explain or apologise because he knows Simon doesn't want to hear it; all that matters is that Liam is here now, just like Simon wanted him to be. There's no way Liam could have passed up an offer like this, and they both know it.

Simon smiles gently, only slightly patronizingly. "After this job you can retire for good."

"Yes," Liam says again. Maybe. Who knows. Two days ago, he'd have sworn he was finished with all this, but one email later he finds himself in Vienna, standing across from the very man who had wished him well in his future endeavors, not six months ago.

Simon stands and gestures for Liam to walk with him to the door at the far end of the room. He opens a hidden panel, places his hand on the scanner and enters a code; the door clicks unlocked. Inside is Simon's true office, which Liam knows well enough to sketch in his sleep. They walk to the table at the side of the room.

"This is yours," Simon says, sliding a thick folder toward Liam. He picks it up, but refrains from looking through it now; he'll have plenty of time for that back in his room. For now, he turns his attention to the white board on the wall above the table. Simon already has the beginnings of a timetable worked out, next to page after page of building floor plans tacked to the wall. In fact, the entire rooms seems to be covered in plans already.

Liam has so many questions, but he knows most of them will be answered by the folder of information Simon has just given him, so instead he asks the one that only Simon can answer.

"How long have you been planning this?"

Simon looks at him, his faint smile in place, and says, "Too long."

Liam's eyebrow ticks up. "Is this a revenge job?" he blurts out because the very thought seems so beneath a man like Simon.

Simon chuckles in the way that men his age seem to do when a young person has just said something particularly naive.

"Liam," he says, as though he is about to impart great wisdom, "when you're playing Robinhood, every job is a revenge job."

- - -

Simon likes to keep his employees close at hand when they're actively preparing for a job, which is what the mansion is for. The room that Liam always used to stay in hasn't changed at all. He wonders if anyone's stayed in it since the last time he was here.

His bags are already waiting for him by the bed, and Liam momentarily considers unpacking first, but the promise of answers inside the folder wins out.

Liam goes to the desk in the room, and begins a precursory investigation of the folder's contents. Naturally, the first thing that catches his eye are the pictures. He'd known this was going to be a team job going into it, but Simon hadn't mentioned who or how many he'd be working with.

The first thing Liam thinks, when he's got all four pictures spread out on the desk, is that they're all quite attractive. His eyes keep drifting back to the dark-haired one, so he stacks the pictures and sets them aside, focusing instead on talent profiles and arrival dates.

Louis, Harry, Niall and Zayn -- Zayn, his brain whispers again -- Liam reads. Two con men, a driver, and a safe-cracker. Seems like a pretty basic team, but Liam knows that Simon knows what he's doing and if this is the team that he's put together, then this is the team that will get the job done.

With that, Liam engrosses himself in details and doesn't resurface for another three hours.

- - -

Dinner, Liam knows, is a business-oriented affair. If Simon could get away with never eating, he probably would just for the amount of time it would save him.

Thus, Liam arrives prepared to discuss the job.

"What are your thoughts?" Simon asks after they've been served.

"I think you're a madman," Liam says with a smile, which Simon returns.

"And?"

"And I'm eager to meet the rest of this team you've put together."

Simon's smile broadens minutely.

"Good, because you're picking up two of them tomorrow afternoon."

Liam pauses with his fork half-way to his mouth. "Me?"

"You," Simon says. He watches Liam for a moment and then puts down his own fork. "Liam, you should know that the only reason we're doing this job now is because this is the first time all five of you have been available at the same time. I put this team together years ago based on talent, yes, but also based on dynamic. The sooner you all meet and begin learning each other, the better."

Liam nods in understanding, even though his brain is still trying to wrap around that one. The very idea that Simon has had him in mind for something like this for years is both flattering and disconcerting. Then a thought occurrs to him that has his eyebrows swooping down.

"Wait, is that why you let me leave? So you'd know I was available when you needed me?"

Simon smiles at him like Liam is very clever, indeed, and goes back to his meal.

By now, Liam shouldn't be surprised that Simon is a manipulative bastard. Liam shakes his head bemusedly. He should also give up on the delusion that he's in control of his own fate.

- - -

The cafe that Simon had instructed him to go to is French and classy, and Liam feels a little out of place as he sits outside waiting for two of his future teammates to join him. He's met con men before, worked with a few in fact, but they've always been lone wolfs, never one to make friends or linger after the job was done. He's never met two con men who actually choose to work together.

"You must be him, then," a voice says just before a hand is clapped down on Liam's shoulder. Liam jumps slightly, and turns to look up at a young man with gravity-defying hair, who's picture he made sure to memorize before this meeting.

"Hello," says another voice from his other side and Liam whips around to see another curly-haired young man take one of the seats at his table. "Have you been waiting long?"

"No," Liam says, then quickly adds, "hello."

"Hi," the first one chirps at him. The mischevious glint is his eyes tells Liam that he's enjoying the some-what awkward situation they've created for Liam.

Liam steels himself mentally and reaches a hand out. "I'm Liam."

"We know," the young man says before taking Liam's hand. "I'm Louis. That's Harry."

"Hello," Harry says again, smiling.

"Hi," Liam nods at him. And then they're both just kind of smiling at him, not saying anything, and Liam's not quite sure what to say next.

"Shall we go, then?" he asks finally.

"Sure," Harry says just as Louis says, "What, we're not eating?

"Oh, are you hungry?" Liam asks.

"Famished," Louis says and he plucks the menu from the center of the table.

"No he's not, we just ate," Harry says, looking at Louis with a look that is as fond as it is exasperated. "He just likes to places like this because he gets to order in French and not have people look at him like he's insane. He never actually eats what he orders."

Louis laughs and puts the menu back. "Now Harold," he says, standing, "don't go giving all my secrets away on the first date."

"Date?" Liam asks as he stands.

"You didn't know?" Louis says, slipping an arm around Liam's shoulders. "Why else would you have us meet you here at this fancy cafe?"

"Well, I-" Liam starts, not sure what he's going to say to that, but luckily Louis starts laughing loudly and he's spared from coming up with an explanation.

They walk back to Liam's car like that: Louis' arm draped nonchalantly across Liam's shoulders, Harry sauntering next to them, hands in his pockets.

Liam thinks they probably look entirely memorable which is the opposite of how this meeting was supposed to go, but he honestly can't bring himself to mind. There's just something about these two that Liam is already gravitating towards.

"So, how did you two meet?" Liam asks as they come to a stand-still in traffic on their way back to Simon's mansion.

"Well," Harry says from the back, but as soon as he does Louis turns around from the front seat and holds up a hand.

"No no, let me. You always tell it wrong." He turns back to Liam and puts a hand on Liam's shoulder. "I remember it like it was yesterday..."

"We tried to con eachother," Harry says. Louis groans turning back to glare at Harry.

"Correction," he says, "Harry tried to con me and I realized this and played along just to see what he'd do."

"Lies!" Harry protests loudly. "You were so obvious, I knew what you were trying to do right away. I was just playing along."

"A likely story," Louis says.

Liam's not sure if the traffic has let up or not because he's too busy glancing between the two squabbling men in his car.

"And you two are supposed to be the best?" he thinks, but then realizes he's said it outloud when both pairs of glaring eyes transfer to him.

"Supposed to?" Louis says, "We are the best."

"In London, anyway," Harry adds.

"In the world!" Louis exclaims, too loud for the size of the car.

Liam watches them grin at each other before shaking his head and turning his attention back to driving. This is going to be, by far, the strangest team he's ever been on.

- - -

Dinner with Harry, Louis and Simon is, somehow, even more ridiculous then their car ride back to the mansion. As soon as Louis sees Simon, it's all laughs and fond memories, and Liam knows he's never seen Simon smile so much in all the years he's worked for him.

"-and then Simon's like, 'That was the mark!' Can you believe it? She practically did the con for me, I didn't have to do a thing!"

Simon and Harry are laughing like it's the funniest story ever, and it really is quite funny, but Liam can't really get over the fact that Simon is laughing.

"Is there anything you need for tonight?" Simon asks Liam, transitioning smoothly back into business-mode. It's enough to snap Liam out of his strangeness-induced stupor.

"No, the location and personell profile."

"Where are we going, then?" Louis asks, looking to Liam.

"Well I'm going to go pick up another of our team members-"

"Can we come with?" Harry is asking before Liam has even finished.

"Umm," Liam hedges, glancing at Simon. He merely looks pleased and aloof, which is kind of how Simon normally looks, but Liam interrprets that as 'yes, take them with you'. "Sure."

"Fantastic," Louis says, beaming at Harry. "Who are we picking up, then?"

"Niall Horan," Liam says.

"The driver?" Harry asks. Liam nods. He can tell by the look on Harry's face that he might have guessed this next part.

"We're meeting him at a race."

'Race', Liam soon realizes, was too specific of a term for what is actually going on once they reach the location Simon had given them. Whatever this really is, it looks like a street party, but with as many cars in attendance as people.

They stick out like sore thumbs, but Harry and Louis seem to be relishing in that fact.

"You know, for two people who are supposed to be the best at what they do," Liam says to the pair lowly, pulling them away from a group of ladies sitting on top of their cars, "you sure don't know how to blend in."

"Oh, we know how," Louis says, grinning at everyone around him. "We're just not on the job yet."

Liam wants to protest that they've been on the job ever since he picked them up, but then he sees someone across the street turn to look at them briefly as they stroll down the sidewalk and something clicks in Liam's brain. He stops looking at everyone and starts seeing, the way his dad taught him so many years ago, and realizes that whether they know it or not, Harry and Louis are creating just enough of a comotion to hold the mild interest of everyone they pass. At this pace, they'll catch the eye of the man they're looking for in no time... much easier than staking out the whole palce, as Liam had planned.

He watches Louis and Harry walk side-by-side, making eye-contact and just enough noise to turn heads, but avoid a scene, and thinks that they probably know exactly what they're doing.

Ten minutes later, Liam is pulled from his musings on whether Louis is following Harry's lead or if it's the other way around -- because surely one of them must be leading for the both of them to be so well coordinated -- by a hand on his shoulder.

"Wasn't expecting you to bring those two," says the blonde man who squeezes Liam's shoulder friendly before releasing it.

Liam grins at him. "They insisteted on comin with." He offers his hand. "Liam Payne."

"Niall Horan," Niall says with an answering grin.

Harry and Louis apparently realized that Liam was no longer with them and appear suddenly at Niall's side.

"Hello!" Louis says, hugging Niall as if he were an old friend.

"Hi," Harry says, offering Niall his hand and a beaming smile. "I'm Harry, this is Louis."

"He knows who I am," Louis says, nudging Niall.

Niall, for his part, seems over-joyed by all the friendliness flying around.

"You lads ready to get out of here? I've already taken care of my business."

"What, no racing?" Louis protests.

"Already done," Niall says, grinning. He nods toward the other side of the street, and the four of them make their way across. Niall walks them up to a beautiful green car and Liam may not know anything about cars, but this one looks fast.

"One of you is going to have to take my prize home," Niall says, nodding behind them.

There's a pretty redhead preched on top of a sleak black car and both Harry and Niall says, "Me!" so quickly that it would be impossible to tell who said it first.

Louis elbows Harry in the ribs. "You know he's talking about the car, right?"

"Yes," Harry says, but he draws it out a little like maybe he didn't. The mischiveous grin that follows makes Louis elbow him again.

"You're disgusting," Louis says, turning to take the keys from Niall. Harry just shrugs and walks over to the car just as the redhead is sliding off the hood.

Louis shakes his head, but Niall looks pretty impressed. "Where're you parked?" he asks LIam as Harry leans forward to let the woman
tug gently at his curls.

"Few blocks down," Liam answers.

"Give you a ride, then?"

"Yeah, great."

"Alright, then, Harold," Louis says loudly, walking toward the car. "Time to get you home. It's well past your bedtime."

Harry just rolls his eyes and gives the woman a charming parting smile before climbing into the car with Louis.

Liam gets in Niall's car, and the inside is actually more spacious than he was expecting, given the size of the thing.

"So what's their deal?" Niall asks as he carefully pulls into the street. They'll have to creep along for several blocks due to the crowds, but something tells Liam that that's half the fun of having a car as gorgeous as this.

"No idea," Liam says, smiling. "If you figure them out, let me know."

Niall laughs and Liam is pretty sure that he's the friendliest, most laid back driver he's ever met.

Niall actually hugs Simon when they get back to the mansion, which Liam's not sure he's ever seen anyone do.

"Niall," Simon says, patting him gingerly on the back. Liam can see it in his face, though, that he doesn't really mind.

"Good to see you too, Simon," Niall says as he pulls back and grabs his bags from where he dropped them. "Kitchen still open?"

"Always," Simon says and waits until the other three have moved past them to look over at Liam. "Thoughts?"

"Well for starters, I'm wondering why you're so much nicer to your other employees."

Simon only lifts an eyebrow and smirks gently at Liam.

"I think that if these three are anything to go by, I should be a little concerned about our final member," Liam says.

Simon's smile softens then and turns a bit more genuine. "The last thing you need to be is concerned. This team is all about balance."

And with that he's gone, disappearing down one of the many twisting halls this place is filled with.

"Cryptic," Liam mutters before following his ears towards the sound of what is either a tornado or the beginnings of a five-course meal coming from the kitchen.

"When's this Zayn bloke getting in, then?" Niall asks an hour later between bites of pasta.

"Tomorrow afternoon. I'm picking him up at the train station," Liam answers. Not that he doubted them, but the meal that Harry and Niall managed to put together is actually really good.

"What time?" Louis asks.

"Two o'clock," Liam answers, and then realizes why Louis might ask that. "Do you want to come with?"

"Of course!" Harry says. "We came to get Niall."

"True," Liam agrees, "but that was in a crowded and underground setting. This is King's Cross."

"We won't make a scene," Louis says in a tone that suggests Liam has a lot to learn about them.

And really, Liam doesn't doubt that for a second.

- - -

To be fair, Louis and Harry are not the ones who create the scene.

Zayn's doing that just fine with the way he's dressed and his gently tossled hair and his mysterious scowl as he scanns the crowd for them. There are at least half a dozen people staring at him, and he probably doesn't even realize it.

So really, Harry and Louis walking straight up to him and latching on like they're old friends being reunited only exaserbates the scene already in progress.

Liam walks up behind them and watches Zayn's eyes dart to and from each of their faces.

The others are greeting him with 'welcome's and 'nice to meet you's, so when Zayn says, "Are you all mad?" everyone kind of pauses for a second.

When no one answers, Zayn elaborates by saying, "Coming to get me together? Simon said this would be low-key."

"Ah," Louis says, slinging an arm around Zayn's shoulders. "Simon lied. This is our first adventure together as a team. It's never too soon to start team building."

Liam watches Zayn stare at the side of Louis' face, and then his gaze cut to Liam and stays there. He's not sure, but Liam thinks that Zayn may be silently asking if this guy is for real, so he just kind of shrugs.

Zayn blinks at him and for a split second he looks very young and very uncomfortable. Then Louis jostles his shoulder and begins to lead them out of the station. Zayn barely has time to stoop and pick up his bags before Louis is navigating them through the crowds.

Once they reach the car -- Liam's car, and he had actually had to explain to the other three why taking one of Niall's was a bad idea -- Louis declares that Zayn should sit in the front and shoves the others into the backseat.

Zayn is quiet for most of the ride back to Simon's mansion while Harry, Louis and Niall banter about... he's not actually sure. Liam may or may not have been sneaking glances at Zayn for the past twenty minutes instead of paying attention.

"So," Zayn says finally, his voice pitched under Louis', who is shouting over Niall, "you seem to be the only sane one in the group."

"That's me," Liam agrees, "the sane one," and then wants to kick himself for not saying something cooler.

Zayn smiles though. Actually turns his head to face Liam and smiles. Liam has to remind himself to look back at the road.

"I'll just stick with you, then," Zayn says.

"Sounds good," Liam says in a carefully normal tone of voice, but the degree of his grin might just give him away, regardless.

The welcome between Simon and Zayn is brief and mostly consists of talk about the job Zayn just came from, but Liam sees the way that Zayn subtlely seeks Simon's approval and the carefully intentional way that Simon bestows it.

Simon tells them that dinner will be at five o'clock and that they should come prepared for their first meeting as a team.

Seeing as how they have less than two hours until then, Liam offers to help Zayn with his bags since he's planning on going upstairs to prepare anyway.

Zayn agrees and leads Liam up the stairs and down the same hallway that Liam's own room is off of. They stop at the door across from Liam's and Zayn opens it into a room that is set up very similarly to his, but decorated with much darker and richer colors.

"Thanks," Zayn says as soon as Liam sets his bag down.

"No problem," Liam says. He wants to say more, but commenting on the color scheme of the room is not really where he wants the conversation to go.

But then Zayn is saying, "I'll probably just unpack and shower before dinner," and Liam says, "Yeah, great, okay," before he can even give his brain permission to respond.

He waves at Zayn and closes the door behind him. Taking a deep breath, Liam crosses the hall to his own room. He really does have a lot to do to prepare for dinner.

At a quarter 'til four, Liam gathers up all his mission materials and makes his way down to the dining room. As he organizes his things next to his place setting, he can hear laughter coming from the adjoined kitchen and a voice that sounds like Zayn's.

When he's arranged everything to his liking, Liam glances toward the door leading to the kitchen and decides to at least poke his head inside.

Zayn is sitting up on the island, smiling down at an older woman in chef's clothing. She has her hand on his knee and she's telling a story that has the other three women in the room laughing loudly.

"So then," Zayn cuts in, his tone lower than the woman's but just as full of amusement, "Simon told me that if we ran away together he'd have me killed. I still don't know if he was joking or not."

"Oh, please," the woman laughs, as she reaches up to pat Zayn's cheek fondly. "My cooking's not that good."

"It is," Zayn says. He pauses before deadpanning, "It's to die for," and everyone falls into laughter.

Liam's still grinning at the scene when Zayn turns his head to look at the door. He smiles back gently, and all Liam can think to do is raise one hand in greeting. Zayn hops down off the counter as the women around him go back to finishing up the meal, and walks toward Liam.

"You've already got friends here, I see?" Liam says when Zayn is standing in front of him.

Zayn laughs shortly. "Yeah... My first job with Simon was a little overwhelming: really big, kind of crazy team. I hid out in here a lot."

"Well, I hope you don't feel the same need to hide from us."

Zayn smiles at him and shakes his head. "No, you lot just caught me off guard. If Simon says I'll like this team, then I trust him."

"He does know what he's talking about," Liam agrees.

Voices from the dining room filter in over the sounds of the kitchen, so Liam nods towards the door. "Shall we?"

Zayn smiles again and nods.

Back in the dining room, Harry and Louis are looking over Liam's mission papers.

"Someone's well prepared," Louis says when he notices Liam in the room. "Did you put all this together yourself?"

"No, not all of it," Liam says. "Most of it came from Simon."

Louis gives him a considering look. "You and him are pretty close, yeah? He's mentioned you before."

"We've been working together for years. He was close with my parents."

There's a pause, and Liam just knows that they all want to ask why Simon and his parents aren't close anymore, and if it's because they're dead, but everyone stays silent.

Niall walks in then, and then startles back at the sight of everyone.

"Whoa. What are you lot doing in here, standing around all quiet?" he demands.

They look around at one another, but end up simply shrugging in unison.

"Good, you're all here," Simon says from behind Niall, making the young man start yet again. "We'll eat and then we'll get down to business."

Dinner is delicious, and before they begin Harry makes a point of popping into the kitchen to compliment the chefs.

"Are we ready to begin?" Simon asks once Harry is back (with pudding) and everyone has finished eating.

Once everyone has answered in some form of the affirmative, Simon opens the folder in front of him, and Liam does the same.

"This mission has three very important aspects to it. There's the prep work, which will include all five of you, but mostly Harry and Louis, the ground work, which will be done by Liam, and the job itself, which will be completed by Zayn."

"What about me?" Niall asks, making this the first time Liam has every witnessed anyone interrupt Simon with a question.

Simon doesn't look upset, however. He looks like he was expecting this question, with his hands folded and an explanation already forthcoming.

"Boys, this mission is not the most dangerous or complicated you will ever do. It is simple. Elegant. It is, however, the most important job I will ever hire anyone to do. I've waited so long because I've been waiting for the best. Niall, there may not be an explicit task for you, but having an excellent driver on my team once saved the mission, and I will not tolerate anything less but excellence for this job. You will need each other; you will need to work together, and I have every confidence that you will do so excellently."

Liam is at a loss for words, and as he discreetly glances around the tablee, everyone else seems to be just staring at Simon as well.

"Ok," Niall says eventually, perhaps after remembering that it was his question which brought that one.

Simon nods, unfolds his hands and they just straight back in to the mission details.

- - -

fic: More Than This (Zaim)

berusama — Tue, 21 Aug 2012 22:09:06 GMT

Title: You Are Everything I See
Rating: R
Warning(s): ituations in which the boys are improbably allowed to do things that ppl would never agree to
Disclaimer:I cannot and do not own/know/associate with/stalk the real people mentioned herein. The following are works of fiction. No money was made in their creation.
Summary: ayn and Liam's first swim lesson turns into something a lot more complicated.

When Liam asks Zayn if they can go to a pool and he'll teach him how to swim, Zayn agrees -- because it's the polite thing to do at the time -- and then happily lets Liam forget all about it. They're busy enough that even if Liam doesn't mean for it to, their agreement slips from his mind as soon as the interview ends.

Or, at least Zayn assumed it did.

It's only been two hours since Zayn sang a solo on top of a moving truck-bed in front of billions of people, and he's still having trouble believing it happened.

"Maybe I'm dead," he muses outloud to Louis, who is sitting next to him at their table. He's not sure where the others have gone off to, but he's heard the American gymnastics team is here, so that might be the first place he'd look if he were inclined to. "Maybe I fell of the lorry and broke my neck and this is all just limbo or something."

"Like Lost?" Louis asks.

Zayn turns to face him, "What?"

"Nevermind," Louis answers. "But you're not dead."

"How can you know?"

"If you were dead, could I do this?" he asks, and then promptly pinches Zayn's side painfully.

"Ow!" Zayn exclaims, scooting away from Louis. "Yes? I don't know."

"Exactly," Louis says and that, it seems, is the end of it.

Another two hours later, Liam is pressed up to Zayn's side speaking too quickly for Zayn to really understand.

"The pool," Liam repeats, his voice still incredibly high. "They said we could!"

"Could what?" Zayn asks slowly, already dreading the answer.

"Swim! C'mon, let me teach you!"

"No," Zayn says immediately.

"Yes, please? This is a once-in-a-life-time opportunity!" Liam pleads, even though Zayn hasn't stopped shaking his head.

"No," Zayn says again.

"Why not?"

"Because it's the Olympics and there's no shallow end!" Zayn practically shouts. It's loud in here and he wants to make sure Liam gets his point.

Liam's face softens and he says, "But I'll be there," just as softly.

"Li..." Zayn trails off. He can feel himself giving in, like he always seems to do when Liam really wants something. There's a gravity to Liam that Zayn just can't escape, though he's honestly never really tried.

Liam grins because he knows he's won, and grabs Zayn's wrist to pull him out of the party. The others are already waiting outside, practically vibrating with energy. Paul gives them all a stern look like he can't believe they acutally talked anyone into letting them do this.

Harry and Louis run all the way there, despite Paul's protests, so Liam ends up dragging Zayn along as quickly as Zayn will let him.

The dressing rooms are nothing special, but when they walk out into the pool house proper, through the swimmers' entrance, everyone just kind of stops and stares. Most of the lights are off, but every light in the pool is on and they give the water a beautiful, shining glow.

Harry breaks the silence with a delighted laugh and begins stripping down. Louis and Niall are quick to follow his example, and then all three of them are off, running to the pool in nothing but their boxers and jumping straight in.

Zayn watches them laugh and swim and splash each other, and there's a large part of him that really does want to join them.

"Alright," he says because he can feel Liam watching him. "Let's get this over with."

He strips down and tries not to watch Liam do the same, though he can see him moving out of the corner of his eye.

They walk toward the water and then sit down on the edge with their lower legs submerged. Liam knocks their shoulders together and then slips into the water. He seems to sink forever, air bubbles streaming out of his mouth, and then he's shooting back up to the surface and grinning at Zayn.

"Ready?" he asks.

"No," Zayn says, but turns to grip the side of the pool anyway. As he begins to inch his hips toward the edge of the pool, Zayn feels Liam's hands come up to support his waist.

Carefully, Zayn slides into the water. Once he's in up to his shoulders he looks up and sees that Paul has his laser-vision honed in on him. Zayn wants to laugh because if there's one person who's probably more nervous about this than he is, it's Paul. Zayn shoots him a grin that he hopes is reassuring.

"Alright," Liam says and squeezes his hands around Zayn's waist. "First I think we should try to tread water."

"Sounds easy enough," Zayn says, turning his head. Liam is right behind him and if this wasn't so terrifying, Zayn would probably think it was kind of hot, what with their slippery bodies brushing against each other and all.

"So what I want you to do is kick your legs out like you're on a bike."

Zayn laughs because that sounds ridiculous, but he gives it a try anyway. It's awkward, and he keeps kicking the wall on accident, so he extends his arms. For a split second, Liam is pressed up against his back, wet, bare skin against wet, bare skin, and it feels amazing. A shudder runs down Zayn's spine.

"Good, I think," Liam says, moving around to Zayn's side and watching his legs move in the water. "Hold on." And with that he's beneath the water. Zayn stills his legs, afraid of kicking Liam, but then he feels Liam's hands around his ankles, moving his legs in the way that he wants them to move.

The motion is a little different now, more of an egg-beater movement than a bike, but he keeps kicking, trying to recreate it each time.

Liam resurfaces, a wide smile on his face.

"Good," he says. "How does it feel?"

"Dunno," Zayn says. "Fine, I guess."

"Okay, let's try to add your arms."

Zayn shoots Liam a looks that he hopes conveys his desire to not do that.

Liam just smiles at him.

"Just one arm at a time," he says in that reassuring way he has. "I'll keep you up."

With that, Liam braces his left arm on the concrete outside the pool and coaxes Zayn's left arm into the water so that it's gripping Liam's other forearm.

"Okay," Liam says. "Now use your right arm to kind of push the water around you down and out, away from your body."

Zayn holds the side of the pool in a death grip for several long seconds before letting his right arm drop into the water. Immediately he begins kicking and flailing like a mad man.

"Slower!" Liam says, laughter in his voice. "I've got you. It should feel natural."

Zayn puts his hand back on the wall to focus on slowing his legs. When it feels "natural," he puts his arm back in the water.

"Okay?" Liam asks, after thirty seconds have passed and Zayn hasn't said a word.

"Am I swimming?" Zayn asks, finally looking up at Liam. He knows the grin on his face is probably a little ridiculous.

"Yeah, almost," Liam answers, a grin splitting his face too. "Gotta let go of me, though."

"Okay," Zayn says, but doesn't actually let go. "Okay."

"Okay?" Liam laughs when Zayn still doesn't let go.

"Yeah. Just gimme a second."

Liam waits, patient as ever, while Zayn tells himself he can do this. He lets the mantra run through his head until it's a hum of words around his brain, and then he lets go.

His nerves have him kicking and flailing so hard, he shoots out of the water a ways, but then he's got it. He knows his rythm is a lot faster than Liam's, but he's doing it. He's treading water and not holding onto anything at all, and even when he starts to sink a little, Liam's right there to grab him around his waist.

"That was amazing!" Liam exclaims, like maybe he was the one to just tread water for the first time.

"I know!" Zayn agrees, and he knows he shouldn't do it, knows that he heard other voices earlier, and that anyone could be watching them, but he also knows that Paul is across the pool, carefully monitoring a hold-your-breath competition between the others, and that Liam is right here: wet and smiling and so perfect.

Before Zayn can think his way out of it, he grabs Liam's face and plants a wet, sweet kiss onto his lips.

Liam doesn't drop him into the water, but Zayn feels his arm almost jerk away in response. Zayn lets go of him to grab onto the wall instead.

"Zayn," Liam says, and Zayn doesn't even have to see his face to know that he made a mistake. "You can't just-"

"Sorry," Zayn says to cut him off. "It was nothing, yeah? Just messing around."

Liam looks at him, long and hard, and says, "That's what you said last time."

Zayn briefly, melodramatically, considers letting himself sink into the water to avoid what this conversation has turned into, but he's saved from having to drown or say anything by Harry shouting, "You came!"

"We came!" a voice gleefully afirms, the sound echoing around the building.

Zayn looks towards the dressing rooms and leave it to Harry to somehow befriend the British Olympic swim team. Carefully he edges away from Liam as they both watch Harry pull himself out of the water to greet the newcomers, some of whom are already stripping down.

Then Harry starts walking over and Zayn realizes belatedly that he's coming to talk to them.

"So, I thought that if you were going to learn how to swim," Harry says to Zayn, "you might as well learn from a professional."

And again, leave it to Harry to find Zayn a swim instructor who has about as many screaming, young fans as they do.

"Hi," Tom Daley says, waving in a way that is probably meant for both Liam and Zayn, but ends up being mostly for Zayn.

"Hi," Zayn manages because the situation has gone from fucked to weird, and he's not sure how to feel about that.

"When Harry said his friend didn't know how to swim, I was expecting to have to coax someone into the water. You're brave," he says, smiling at Zayn.

"Well, Liam," Zayn starts to say, turning to look at him, but Liam is in the process of pulling himself out of the pool. Zayn is both confused by his actions and distracted by the way he can see the water trail down Liam's abs.

"Yeah, guess I did the hard part," Liam says, bright and cheerful. He shakes Tom's hand in greeting. "I've leave the rest to you."

They all laugh good-naturedly, Harry and Tom and Liam, and Zayn just stares up at them without a clue what to do.

- - -

Liam shakes Tom's hand, makes a joking excuse for his departure, and goes to introduce himself to the other Olympians who have shown up. Because he's being polite. Not because he feels the need to get away from Zayn as soon as possible.

Well, yes, to get away from Zayn, but he hopes that to everyone else it just looks like he's being polite.

fic: 'cause i've been thinking 'bout forever (Ziam)

berusama — Sun, 19 Aug 2012 01:29:08 GMT

title: 'cause i've been thinking 'bout forever
rating: pg-13
pairing: zayn/liam
warning(s): none
disclaimer: I cannot and do not own/know/associate with/stalk the real people mentioned herein. The following are works of fiction. No money was made in their creation.
summary: liam, harry and niall visit louis and zayn at university. inspired by and based on Frank Ocean's song Thinkin Bout You.

Zayn is aware that his room is currently a complete disaster and that Louis will be arriving with the boys any minute now, but he knows that he has an old pair of Liam's pajama pants around here somewhere and, even though Liam will have definitly brought his own, Zayn can't get over the fact that he can't find them.

He's in the process of practically dumping his dresser drawers onto the floor when there's a rapid knock at his door. Zayn's stomach swoops up into his throat and he leaps over a pile of t-shirts to pull the door open.

They're all standing there, his four best friends in the entire world, and Zayn just beams at them for a moment before his eyes zero in on Liam.

"Your hair's so short," he says.

"Yours is so long," Liam returns.

"Perrie likes it that way," Louis snickers. "More to hold onto."

Liam's eyebrows furrow as Nial begins to cackle and Harry lets out and amused 'Whaaaat?' so Zayn says, "C'mere," and opens his arms.

Liam steps into them immediately and before long Zayn can feel Harry and Niall on either side of him as well.

"Group hug!" Louis shouts, and he must have practically lept onto Liam's back because suddenly Liam's pressed so much closer and Zayn kind of wants to stay like this forever.

"I've missed this smell," Harry says, his voice muffled by Zayn's shoulder.

"What smell?" Niall asks.

"All of us together. We smell amazing."

And then they are laughing and squeezing each other closer and, honestly, Zayn can't remember the last time he was this happy.

"Alright!" Louis say suddenly. "Enough of this nancy touchy-feely business! Liam has a full and detailed schedule for us!"

Zayn tries to pull back enough to look at Liam, but Harry's still got both of them in a death grip, so he can really only bump his nose against Liam's jaw.

"You made a schedule?"

"Well," Liam hedges, which Zayn translates into 'yes, of course, but can we pretend I didn't?'

"Alright, Harry," Louis is saying, and Zayn turns his head to see Louis trying to pull Harry away from the group hug by his waist. "You're going to be here all weekend. Plenty of time for hugs."

Louis gives one final tug and Harry releases his grip, only to tumble back into Louis. They end up a flailing mess on the floor, and then it's Louis who's refusing to let go, his arms and legs wrapped around a struggling, laughing Harry.

Zayn glances over a Liam, his smile wide, and when Liam looks back at him Zayn is afraid that his heart is about to beat its way out of his chest.

"Group hug!" Niall declares and then he's on the ground with them, his arms and legs wrapped around Louis, and it's another five minutes before any of them are willing to let go.

When everyone is finally satisfied that the hugging quota has been met and every limb has been disentangled (aside from the arm Louis keeps wrapped around Harry's waist as they walk) they head to the nearest cafeteria for a late lunch becaue Nial is starving, and it's as good a place as any to spend some time catching up.

They end up with way too much food, but over-indulgance, Louis assures them, is what college is all about.

"You'll understand when you get here next year," he says like he's some sort of college guru. Zayne shares a private smile with Liam and is suddenly overwhelmed by how much he's missed this. Harry tossing french fries for Louis to catch in his mouth, Niall laughing at every story Zayn tells, Liam discreetly cleaning the parts of the table he can reach, occastionally knocking his foot agaisnt Zayn's to get his attention... it's perfect even if it's only for the next two days.

After almost all the food is gone and they've started to draw the attention of some of the other diners in the room, Liam suggests a tour of the campus. They've had one before, of course, when Zayn and Louis first moved out here six months ago, but now the boys want to be taken to all the "hot-spots" that Zayn and Louis couldn't have known about as incoming first years.

They take them to the ecalyptus forrest to see the singing tree, and to the top of the library to see the ocean. They walk around the University Center and try to sneak into the theater department, but are stopped before they can get very far. They end up at the campus pub around ten o'clock and don't leave until about one in the morning.

"I love you guys," Harry repeats into Zayn's neck as he hugs him good night. Harry and Niall will be sleeping in Louis' room since his roommate is out of town for the weekend, which means Liam will sleep on the floor in Zayn's single.

"Love you too, Haz," Zayn murmurs back, squeezing his friend.

"Don't wake up too early!" Niall demands as he pulls away from hugging Liam. "I want to sleep this off so we can party for real tomorrow."

"I'm sure Zayn will make sure Liam stays in bed," Louis comments, and Zayn tries to pretend he didn't mean to insinuate anything, but his can feel his cheeks heat anyway.

"If he gets up too early, I'll just send him out for a run," Zayn says. Harry finally lets go and the three of them head in the direction of Louis' dorm hall.

Zayn smiles at Liam and nods his head in the other direction. Half-way back to his dorm Zayn feels something hit his neck and is just about to ask Liam if he felt it too when the rain begins. They look at each other and then break into a run. By the time they get to Zayn's dorm, they're practically soaked. They climb the stairs to the third floor, Liam joking about how he thought it never rained in California as they make their way down to the very end of the hall. Just as Zayn is unlocking his door and pushing it open, he remembers the state in which he left his room.

"Whoa," Liam says, laughter clear in his voice. "What happened in here?"

"Um," Zayn says, drawing it out. "I was looking for something."

"Did you find it?"

"No."

"That's too bad," Liam says setting his bag down and opening it to pull out a change of clothes.

Zayn looks down at the mess and wonders if Liam will think less of him if he just leaves it. Next to him, Liam is stripping off his wet shirt and Zayn stares until he realizes that 1: he's being creepy, and 2: Liam's got goosebumps all over his skin.

"Here," Zayn says, reaching for his towel and draping it over Liam's shoulders.

"Thanks," Liam says. He flips the towel up over his head to dry his hair and Zayn stares some more. Liam's gotten taller since he last saw him -- he'd noticed that right away -- but he's also gotten more muscular and those muscles have become more well-defined. In fact, he practically has a six-pack going. Zayn quickly looks away as Liam pulls the towel from his head.

Liam swings the towel around Zayn's shoudlers and asks, "Where's the bathroom?"

"Down the hall," Zayn answers, and as soon as Liam is out of sight, and strips off his soaked clothing. As soon as he's changed, Zayn begins shoving things back into his closet and dresser, cringing at the disorganization.

"Looks a little better," Liam says when he comes back. He's changed into his pajamas and he smells minty, like he already brushed his teeth.

Zayn laughs and kicks at some clothes on the floor. At least he'd managed to clear the bed off.

"I'm gonna go brush my teeth, yeah?"

"Sure," Liam says.

When Zayn returns, he finds Liam laying on his bed, legs crossed and arm's under his neck. He looks like he's meant to be there, and Zayn's heartbeat picks up.

"You can sleep on the bed," Zayn blurts out. "I mean, you're the guest and all."

Liam's eyebrows drop together and he laughs. "What? No. I mean, we can both fit on the bed, yeah?"

Zayn swallows, and says, "Yeah," despite the sudden flip of his stomach.

Liam pats the bed next to him, so Zayn slowly picks his way across the room and climbs on. The mattress, being old and cheap and college-issued, immediately sags down in the middle, shifting them toward each other until their sides are pressed together. Liam doesn't move his arms, so Zayn pillows his head on Liam's bicept.

"I'm glad you're here," Zayn says after a beat.

"Me too," Liam says. There's half a minute of silence and then Liam says, "So who's Perrie?"

Zayn wants to groan and bury his face in the mattress. "Fucking Louis," he says instead. He waits, half hoping that Liam will retract the question. When he doesn't Zayn sighs.

"She's just... a girl."

"A girl?" Liam asks. He turns then, propping himself up onto his elbow so that Zayn's head falls back onto the mattress.

"Yeah..." Zayn says, "Did you think..."

"Well, it's not a very feminine name," Liam says.

Zayn looks up at Liam, but Liam's not looking back. He's looking over at the floor, like he might be thinking about getting up.

"Does it-" Zayn stops, not sure how he wants to phrase this. "Is it different if she's a girl instead of a boy?"

Liam glances down at him then, but not for long. Zayn can see his jaw working.

"Yes?" he answers finally. "I don't know."

Zayn can't quite catalogue his feelings beyond confused and the creeping sensation of defensiveness.

"You're dating a girl," he says eventually.

"I know," Liam says like Zayn just made his point for him. "She's not-"

Zayn waits, but Liam doesn't seem keen on continuing. "She's not what?"

"It's just different?"

And now the defensiveness is settling in. Zayn sits up so that Liam isn't looming over him.

"Yeah, it's different," Zayn says. "It's different becasue I'm not actually dating Perrie. We just hook up sometimes because right now we can't-" he cuts himself off, afraid suddenly that what he's about to say is a bigger deal than he thought it was.

Liam sits up too. "Can't what?"

Zayn glances at Liam and then turns his gaze to his lap. "Can't be with the people we want to be with." Zayn straightens up then, and looks Liam in the eye. "It's not that big of a deal."

"Who do you..." Liam trails off, and he looks so worried, so confused that Zayn's annoyance melts away.

"Liam," he whispers carefully, slowly, "You know how- how I feel. About you."

Liam's face crumples then, but he hides it quickly in his hands.

"What?" Zayn says, grabbing Liam's shoulders. "What's going on?"

"I don't know," Liam says through his hands. "When you left, I just... I don't know, we didn't really talk that much and I didn't- I didn't know if..."

"You're kidding me," Zayn says, moving his hands to Liam's wrists. "Hey, look at me." When Liam finally looks up at him, eyes shining, Zayn's heart begins to thud in his chest uncomfortably. The thought of Liam not knowing that he loves him is baffling and not something Zayn's brain is prepared to accept. "I'm sorry that things got crazy here, but there's not a day that I don't think about you. It never occured to me that we wouldn't- That you might not be thinking about me."

When Liam doesn't respond, genuine fear creeps into Zayn's veins. It feels like ice.

"The only reason I can stand the thought of you and Danielle is because I just figured you were lonely and even if you were actually in love with her... I guess I just thought it was temporary. But you and me... when I think about you, it's forever."

Liam's mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Zayn drops his hands from Liam's wrists.

"Do you not-" Zayn's voice cracks, and he closes his eyes. "Do you not think that?"

There's a horrifying moment of nothing, and then something grazes Zayn's cheekbone. His eyes flutter open as Liam's fingers trace down to his jaw.

"I'm sorry," Liam breathes. "I'm so sorry." He leanes in, but stops before their lips touch, gaze darting between Zayn's lips and eyes.

"Li," Zayn whispers and Liam surges forward.

"I do. I think about you all the time," he breathes against Zayn's lips. "I still love you."

"I love you too," Zayn whispers between kisses, his hands wrapping around Liam's shoulders to pull him down onto the mattress. "I love you forever."

And this, my friends, is why i do not date.

berusama — Tue, 17 Jul 2012 09:28:05 GMT

Once upon a time there was a young woman who was very lonely and very tired of her family asking if she was dating anyone (because the answer was always, 'no'). So, being of sound mind and optimistic out-look, she signed up for an online dating site.

Within six months, she had met a lot of people, men and women both, but none had held her interest, nor she theirs. Many simply stopped responding to her messages and, after the one meet-up she did gather her courage to go on ended poorly, she was fairly certain she wanted to cancel her account.

So she planned to, once the month was up.

And then, something strange happened. She met a nice young man from the air force. They talked and discovered that they had many things in common: interests and values and other important things that made her smile when she read his messages.

They didn't message daily, both being busy adults, but it had been almost a week since she had heard from him. The month was coming to a close, and she was still planning on canceling her account. So when she received an email from him saying that he was sorry for the lack of correspondence, that he had simply been super busy, she was more than please to respond with a message that said, in essence, i'm glad you were just busy, i'm canceling my account, here is my private email address, please email me, before she went ahead and canceled her account.

Then she waited.

And waited.

It occurred to her on day four that the website may have deleted all of the messages she had ever sent, including the last one that had her email address in it.

So, being rather clever, she decided to try to look him up on facebook, and send him a quick message, just in case. Yeah, she felt creepy, but you know... cute guy.

She did find him and, feeling even more creepy, sent him a message, just basically saying, hi, in case they deleted my messages, i canceled my account. so... hi :)

She was hopeful, but again, nothing.

For many days.

And, as one's mind is likely to do when one is waiting for something that one is trying not to want, she began to construct various possible scenarios as to what may have happened to keep him from getting back to her:

Scenario 1: Cinderella

The young man sees her message but, being too busy, does not respond right away. She cancels her account, deleting her email address from his inbox in the process.

When he finally returns to his inbox with time to respond, her message is gone and he had only viewed it once. So, since he is super into her (but he doesn't really use facebook b/c he thinks it's dumb like she does) he begins to email all permutations of the words and numbers he can vaguely recall from his one glance at her email address.

Eventually, he'll get it right and they shall be reunited in cyberland and live happily ever after.

Scenario 2: The Notebook

Due to imperfect timing, her message gets deleted before he ever sees it, thus causing him to think that she has just up and vanished from the internet. Once he realizes that she and all her messages are gone, he tries to look her up on facebook, but -- having once worked in a middle school -- her name is un-searchable.

She, of course, will make herself searchable again when she sends him the facebook message, but since he doesn't really use facebook that often, he doesn't check his profile or see her message until several months from now, when he has already found another nice girl to date.

They are never reunited, but the young woman comforts herself with the thought that, in this particular scenario, she gets to be Ryan Gosling.

Scenario 3: Pearl Harbor

Something terrible happens at the base and the young man is presumed dead. A friend of his tries to contact friends and family via the young man's facebook page, sees her message and contacts the young lady. An unlikely friendship begins.

Once this friendship blooms into a romantic relationship, the original young man shows up because he was never actually dead in the first place. Awkwardness ensues.

As expected, Josh Hartnett dies.

Scenario 4: Romeo and Juliet

The young man, having been extremely busy, writes down her email address to use later, and smiles when he sees her, somewhat awkward, facebook message. But then, he gets a better look at the few details he can see on her profile and realizes that she is the daughter of his family's greatest rival. He cannot bring himself to betray his family by contacting her again.

He is currently waxing poetic upon a balcony, cursing their fate and their family names, waiting for her to show up and tell him that a rose, by any other name, would smell just as sweet.

Scenario 5: The One That Probably Actually Happened

Her message doesn't get deleted from the dating website, b/c they know how to keep text around even after a profile has been hidden (unlike stupid facebook). he sees her message, and for some logical reason decides that he no longer wants to keep in contact with this particular lady.

When he sees her facebook message, he begins to suspect that she may be a stalker, and places her name on a permanent ignore list.

They never speak again.

fic: One Thing (genderswap!Ziam, Larry) (part 2/2)

berusama — Thu, 12 Jul 2012 01:39:17 GMT

Title: Fall Into My Arms (part 2/2)
Pairing(s): Ziam, Larry
Rating: PG-13
Warning(s): genderswap, femmeslash
Disclaimer: I cannot and do not own/know/associate with/stalk the real people mentioned herein. The following is a work of fiction. No money was made in its creation.
Summary: Leah's a musical arts student who has got it bad for the gorgeous scenester she's only ever seen a picture of on the university radio's website.
Author's Note: a fill for this prompt from the 1D kink meme.

PART ONE

"I'm starting to get nervous about finals," Zaynah says between bites of her salad on Wednesday.

"Yeah, next week," Leah says with a grimace.

"Do you think..." Zaynah trails off, looking down. "Do you think that maybe we could study together? I just -- You take really good notes in class..."

"Absolutely," Leah says quickly, mostly because she genuinely wants to but also to get rid of the uncertain look on Zaynah's face. "We could even start this weekend, if you want."

Zaynah makes a face. "Studying on the weekend? We'd have to plan something fun too for me to look forward to."

"Oh, and studying with me isn't something to look forward to?" Leah teases, not expecting Zaynah to blush like she does.

"Yeah, alright," Zaynah concedes.

"We could do something after, though, too. Something fun."

"Okay," Zaynah says, before glancing at her phone. "Since we're talking about studying, I'd better not ditch my next class."

"Well, why don't you give me your phone number, and we can plan our study session later?" Leah says, and she wants to high-five herself for how logical and smooth she sounds.

"Oh, yeah," Zaynah says, and waits for Leah to get her phone out, before adding her number to it. Then she calls herself so that she has Leah's number too.

"Cool," Zaynah says, getting up from the table. Leah stands too, and the next thing she knows, Zaynah is leaning in for what appears to be a good-bye hug.

"See you," she manages to get out, once the smell of Zaynah's beautiful hair is no longer directly under her nose.

"Bye," Zaynah says, with a wave and a smile.

That night when Lucy calls her 'Leah No-Game,' she brandishes her phone in triumph and makes sure she gets a good look at the winky face Zaynah had sent her five minutes after they had parted. Harrie keels over from second-hand happiness.

- - -

Friday morning, Leah goes as far as to book a study room in the main library, so that she and Zaynah don't have to worry about making too much noise. She feels a little weird booking it without Zaynah knowing that she's planning to have a study session on Friday afternoon, but 1: last minute study room cancellations are what make this campus go around, and 2: a Friday afternoon study session with Zaynah will beat anything else she has done on a Friday since she started uni. If she says yes. Leah is like 85% sure she will.

"So I was thinking," Leah says as soon as she sits down next to Zaynah in class. "Maybe, but only if you want to, we could start studying this afternoon, after your airtime. There's a really great study room on the fifth floor of the main library that we could use, and I could run to the UC after class and grab some snacks, and we could kind of just plan out what we know and what we need to know and just go from there, what do you think?"

Zaynah has this sort of shocked grin on her face after Leah finally stops talking, probably because Leah's voice had been steadily rising in pitch throughout that entire run-on sentence. She can feel her cheeks burning.

"Okay, but only because you sound so excited about it," Zaynah laughs, her eyes literally shining back at Leah.

It makes the embarrassment worth it.

An hour and a half later, Leah is trying to just listen to Zaynah's playlist via her ipod, but she can't stop over-thinking what will happen half an hour from now.

She surveys the table again. She has snacks, carbonated waters, notebooks, pens galore, and the view over campus is amazing from the wall-sized window in the study room. Unfortunately, she finished setting everything up too soon, and now she's just nervous.

She considers texting Zaynah, but she doesn't know if they're at that point in their friendship yet, the random text phase. Instead, she takes to drumming her pens on the table to the rhythm of whatever song Zaynah is playing.

Half an hour later, Zaynah is sarcastically dedicating her last song to "Catty Perry" for getting this song stuck in her head.

Leah wonders if Zaynah will wait for her last song to be done before finishing, or if she will leave right away, if she has maybe already grabbed her things and is running towards the library...

Leah laughs at herself, but her smile vanishes when her phone buzzes and Zaynah's text of 'omw ;)' pops up on the screen. Leah spends the next five minutes bouncing her knee up and down, alternating between sitting on her hands and fixing her hair.

A gentle knock on the door startles her, before Zaynah pokes her head inside the room.

"Wow," she says, closing the door behind her. "Your directions here were amazing. I didn't get lost once."

"Good," Leah says, returning Zaynah's smile. "I'm glad."

Zaynah puts her bag down on the other side of the table and surveys the room.

"Man, if I prepared for all of my study sessions this well, I would probably study more."

"Well, I didn't want you to hate studying with me, so..."

Zaynah takes a seat across from Leah and crosses her arms on the table top. She smiles gently at Leah and says, "I wouldn't have hated it, even if it was just you and me and our books."

Leah laughs, her eyes darting down and then back up to Zaynah's. "Shall we?" she asks, gesturing to her open notebook.

"Yeah," Zaynah agrees, pulling her own out of her bag.

They start by comparing the syllabus and the study guide to determine the most important chapters and articles of the readings they've been given so far. Leah is delighted to discover that they work well together: companionable, but efficient. They compare notes, and between the two of them, they have a pretty comprehensive set of information.

They're in the middle of highlighting all the important terms in their notes when Leah gets a text from Harrie.

we'r at uni pub. u should b 2.

Leah looks the time and is about to text back that it's only seven o'clock, but then she realizes that means she and Zaynah have been studying for almost four hours.

"It's seven o'clock," she tells Zaynah instead.

"What? No way," Zaynah says, dropping her highlighter to grab her phone. "Damn. I'm pretty sure this is the longest I've ever studied for. I should study with you all the time."

Leah returns Zaynah's grin and says, "My friends want me to go to the university pub. Do you maybe want to go?"

"Can I invite Nia?" Zaynah asks.

"Yeah, if you think she'll want to come."

Zaynah laughs. "It's a pub. She'll come."

Fifteen minutes later, Leah and Zaynah walk into the campus pub, which is already pretty full. Leah looks towards where she and her friends usually sit. They're there, of course, at their usual table, and Leah takes a deep breath for what is possibly about to happen next.

"Hey guys," she says over the din of music and conversation.

"Leah!" Luce crows. Her face is terrifying with the pure mischievous delight covering it. "Who is this stunning beauty you've brought with you, and is she single?"

Harrie giggles from where she is perched half on top of Lucy's lap.

Zaynah reaches out her hand, which Harrie shakes and Lucy kisses. "I'm Zaynah and yes, I am single."

The way her eyes dart to Leah for a second ratchets Leah's heart rate up several beats.

"We've heard so much about you, Zaynah," Harrie says, a teasing tilt to her lips.

"Really?" Zaynah says, looking at Leah properly this time.

"Well, I don't usually make many friends in class, so I guess--"

"Bullshit," Luce coughs into her hand.

"--that's why I talked about you. So much."

Zaynah's eyebrow ticks up, but she's smiling until her head snaps down to pull her phone out of her pocket. She turns around and looks toward the door for a second before raising her arm and waving someone over.

"Damn," Harrie says as Nia walks up. She kind of looks like she just walked out of an advert for Polo and then put a trucker hat on backwards. (Later, Leah will realize that the front of her hat reads 'Pussies: the Breakfast of Champions'.)

"Hi, everyone," Nia says, with a nod, making eye-contact with everyone around the table.

"This is my roommate Nia," Zayn introduces.

Harrie leans forward and gracefully extends her hand to Nia. "Harrie," she says, in her 'sexy voice' as Lucy likes to call it.

"I'm Luce," Luce says, not offering her hand. By the way she's staring, Leah is worried that she's sizing Nia up.

Things are awkward -- the kind of awkward that always make Leah want to laugh -- for several seconds until the one of the bartenders shows up with a tray of drinks. She sets it down and moves two glasses to their table before glancing up at Nia from beneath her eyelashes.

"This one is from one of the girls at the back table over there and this one is from me." She practically purrs the last part to Nia, who smiles down at her in return.

"Thanks, Elle," Nia says, brushing her fingers down Elle's arm. "I'll call you later, yeah?"

"Yeah," Elle breathes before picking up her tray of drinks and walking away.

When Nia turns back to the table, Harrie is laughing at the expression on Luce's face, which is one of pure awe.

"I've been trying to sleep with her for the past semester!" Luce exclaims, not bothering to lower her voice even though Elle hasn't gone far. "You are my hero."

Nia laughs and says, "Thanks," like it might be a question.

"Come. Sit," Luce demands. "Teach me your secrets."

As Nia finds an extra chair, Zaynah's knee bumps into Leah's. She leans close and says, "Well, it looks like they're not going to kill each other," under her breath.

"Yeah," Leah says back, eyes involuntarily flicking down to Zaynah's lips, which are particularly close right now. "Guess we just have to watch out for signs of an orgy."

Zaynah laughs and leans the tiniest bit closer before shifting away.

Leah lets out a shuddery breath and looks up to see Harrie watching her with knowing eyes. Leah flashes her a weak smile, to which Harrie winks back.

She watches the others interact for awhile, and it almost seems too perfect: the banter between Luce and Nia, the way Harrie and Zaynah huddle together over Harrie's iphone to look at Harrie's favorite website for shoes, how comfortable everyone seems... it almost feels like maybe they were all meant to be here, together.

It's a foreign thought, because Leah has never had a family outside of her actual family, but she wonders if maybe this is the start of that. She hopes so, anyway.

That night, after Lucy had finally let Nia and Zaynah go back to their own apartment ("Come home with us," she had pleaded, hanging off of Nia and pawing at Zaynah. "Come home with us and never ever leave."), Leah is almost asleep when she gets a text from Zaynah that reads, love ur friends. we should do that again :) xx.

Leah turns her face into her pillow to hide the ridiculous grin that has suddenly appeared.

absolutely :), she types back eventually, but she hesitates before pressing send. want 2 study again mon? she adds before sending it off.

yea ;) she gets back, almost immediately, and Leah falls asleep with a smile on her face.

- - -

They study for their music comp. final again on Monday, but their room is taken on Wednesday, so they find an empty couch down on the first level and decide to do some readings for their other classes instead.

Zaynah pulls out her ipod, kicks off her sandals and turns to prop her feet up on the couch next to Leah. Leah glances at Zaynah's legs out of the corner of her eye and quickly looks away when the intense urge to run her palm up one smooth calf comes over her.

She focuses on a monstrous reading for her world music class that she's been putting off and manages to distract herself for a good half hour until she feels Zaynah's toes press against her thigh. Her eyes stop tracking across the page, and her heart jumps up into her throat.

Carefully, slowly, Leah looks down at Zaynah's toes, then her feet, then up her perfect, tanned legs. She's entirely aware that if Zaynah is watching her right now, it's going to be pretty obvious that Leah is checking her out, but that doesn't stop her from glancing up to where Zaynah is reclining against the side of the couch.

Leah's breath rushes out in relief, because Zaynah, it turns out, is asleep. Her head is resting against the back of the couch, and her face is relaxed in a way that makes her look... well, perfect. Leah stares because she can, until she starts to feel a bit like a creeper. There is, however, no going back to her reading now that she knows the picture that Zaynah makes sitting next to her.

Gently, she wraps a hand around one of Zaynah's ankles, and it does the trick of waking Zaynah up, but it also does the trick of tempting Leah to smooth her hand up and up. Instead, Leah swipes her thumb over the bone of Zaynah's ankle and removes her hand.

"Sorry," Zaynah says, around a yawn after pulling her headphones off.

"S'okay," Leah says with a smile. "Tired?"

Zaynah laughs a little and says, "Always."

Leah looks down at her books and then back up at Zaynah. "Want to grab some coffee?"

Zaynah's bottom lip slips under her teeth as she smiles at Leah and nods. Leah knows, in that moment, that no amount of studying could ever be worth a smile like that.

They spend three hours at the on-campus Starbucks, talking and laughing and, Leah's pretty sure, flirting. She hasn't really tried to flirt with anyone in years, but she remembers what it feels like to be so into someone else that all you want is to see them smile at you. And with the amount of smiling Zaynah's been doing, Leah's pretty sure there's something between them.

When Harrie texts her at 7 to say dinner's ready, if she wants to eat with them, Zaynah says she should probably be heading back to her apartment too.

"Hey," Leah says, because even though both of them have agreed that they need to go, neither has made any move to leave. "So I'm gonna be pretty busy next week, with finals and everything, but since we'll both be done by Friday morning, do you maybe want to go see a movie or something?"

"To, like, celebrate finals being over?" Zaynah asks.

"Yeah," Leah says, gathering her courage, "but also maybe as, like... a date?"

Zaynah's smile is so sudden and so brilliant that Leah almost doesn't even have to hear her say yes.

"Yeah, yes," Zaynah says, and hearing her agree is almost as sweet.

"Okay," Leah breathes, her own smile splitting her face. "Okay, great. Thanks."

Zaynah laughs. "Thank you."

Leah can't help but grin back.

"So I'll see you on Friday, and then next Friday we will go on our date."

"Sounds like a plan."

They sit there, staring at each other for several moments before Leah's phone goes off again.

"Right, well..."

"I'll see you."

"Yeah, great."

"Okay."

They stand and this time when Zaynah moves in for a hug, Leah meets her halfway. It's a quick and gentle hug, more of an 'I'll see you soon' than a 'goodbye' hug, but Leah imagines that she can still feel the press of Zaynah's fingertips to her ribs long after she has left Leah's sight.

- - -

Finals week is always, understandably, awful. This finals week is particularly awful, though, because Leah can barely focus on her studies without remembering that she's got a date with Zaynah. And when she remembers that, she not only immediately loses her place in her readings, but she is also viscously attacked by butterflies, in both the stomach and heart regions.

It gets worse as the week goes on and she completes each of her finals until at last, at last, it's Friday morning and her hand is killing her from writing for two and a half hours straight, but she's finished.

She closes her blue book to keep from going over her essay answers yet again and glances around the lecture hall. It's practically empty, by now. Her back and shoulders protest as she stands, but it feels good to stretch and walk down to the professor's desk to turn in her final.

Outside, everything seems brighter and fresher, and she knows it's because she was sitting in a cramped desk in a dim hall for almost three hours, but still. She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes and feels a smile drift onto her face. This is the moment she has been spending the last four weeks waiting for.

She glances at her watch, sees that she has half an hour before she has to meet Zaynah at the movie theater downtown, and promptly takes off at a run.

Zaynah is waiting for her at the theater, two tickets in her hand and a giant smile on her face.

"We did it!" she shouts as Leah pulls her into a hug and swings her around.

"Thank god it's over," Leah agrees, beaming back at Zaynah.

"You ready for this?"

And Leah can't help but say, "I was born ready," and grab Zaynah's hand to pull her into the theater.

They find great seats right in the middle of the theater, and Zaynah promptly folds herself up in her seat, turns to face Leah and begins the tale of Zaynah versus Finals Week.

Leah is trying to pay attention to her words because Zaynah has this way of storytelling that is so dry and witty and under enthusiastic that it just cracks Leah up, but the way her legs are folded up means her already short shorts are riding so high on her thighs that it's impossible for Leah not to be distracted. Because, fuck, Zaynah's legs are to die for. Leah pretty much just wants to wrap them around her waist and never leave.

When the movie finally starts, Zaynah shifts to face the screen but also kind of leans against Leah's shoulder. Leah debates for a whole minute before slowly, casually inching her hand over to brush against Zaynah's on the arm rest. Immediately, Zaynah turns her hand over and interlaces their fingers.

Later, Leah won't be able to remember what happened in the movie, even under pain of death.

"Ugh," Zaynah says as soon as the lights come back on. "I could not get that article about music in media out of my head during the entire movie. College is ruining my life."

Leah laughs. "What ever are you going to do?"

"Soldier on, I suppose. I can't exactly drop out."

"Well, you could," Leah says, ever the responsible one.

Zaynah just looks at her, gently biting at her lower lip. "Nah," she says, and Leah swears she sees her eyes dart down to Leah's lips.

They chat casually as they walk back to campus, and not once do their fingers disentangle.

Outside the multimedia building, Zaynah stops and turns to face Leah.

"Since this is our last day on-air, there's gonna be an end-of-term party tonight. Do you think you and Harrie and Luce would want to come?"

"Yeah," Leah says so quickly that it's mildly embarrassing. "Sure."

"Okay, cool," Zaynah says, before she pulls her lower lip underneath her teeth.

Leah recognizes the moment when the content buzzing that's taken over her brain for the past two hours suddenly bursts into an acute awareness of everything: Zaynah's face and hair and the smoothness of her skin and the way her beautiful eyes look kind of hopeful and questioning and that her grip on Leah's hand has tightened minutely.

Without a further thought, Leah takes half a step forward and tilts her head down, eyes darting from Zaynah's eyes to her lips. A small smile starts to form on Zaynah's lips but then she's leaning forward, into Leah, and they're kissing.

Leah closes her eyes, exhales sharply through her nose and presses in -- into Zaynah's lips, into her space, into her skin. The hand not tangled with Zaynah's is at the back of her neck, fingers pushing through the thick black hair that she's wanted to touch since day one. She can feel Zaynah's free hand settle on her waist and pull in a way that sends fire shooting down Leah's spine.

They're interrupted by Zaynah's phone. When Zaynah pulls it out of her back pocket, she takes one look at the time and lets out a soft gasp.

"I have to go," she breathes. Leah drags her hand back to trace a thumb along Zaynah's cheekbone. "I'll see you tonight, yeah?"

"Yeah," Leah says, leaning forward to kiss Zaynah's smile.

Zaynah squeezes her hand and pulls back, only to wrap her arms around Leah's neck and lean in for another kiss.

"Okay," she says against Leah's lips. "See you."

"Bye," Leah says, finally releasing Zaynah's hips.

Zaynah turns around five times before she reaches the building and disappears from Leah's sight.

Leah stands there for an indeterminate amount of time, just staring and smiling. Then she realizes that she doesn't have her ipod and she's missing Zaynah's air time. She probably beats her personal best time at the speed she runs home.

"How was your--" is all Harrie gets out before Leah is in her room and accidentally slamming the door shut in the rush.

She's missed half the songs already, but it's better than all of them. She changes while she listens, figuring that she'll go for a real run after this, to try and work off all of the nervous, ecstatic energy she has coursing through her veins.

The hour is almost up when Zaynah's voice comes floating out of Leah's radio and the butterflies in her stomach practically explode.

"As you all know, this is the radio's last broadcasting day of the year. Thank you to everyone who took the time to listen. And now for my last dedication of the year. This one's for you, Leah."

Lee-uh. It runs through her mind on repeat, and Leah can't keep the grin off her face. She's never heard this song before, but it catches her attention immediately and not just because she's been on the edge of her chair since Zaynah started talking. The lyrics don't really register in her mind until the chorus, and a shudder wracks down Leah's spine.

I am yours now
So now I don't ever have to leave.
I've been found out
So now I'll never explore.

And Leah knows it's just a song, she knows the words weren't written specifically for her and Zaynah, but she can't help the smile from splitting her face.

They'll have to talk tonight, but Leah's pretty sure she knows how that conversation will go. It's a little bit nerve-wracking, the thought of building a new relationship, but after today and with the memory of Zaynah's lips on hers, Leah feels like she can do anything.

fic: I Wish (Ziam)

berusama — Thu, 05 Jul 2012 02:13:44 GMT

Title:
Rating: R
Warning(s):
Disclaimer:
Summary: The boys receive an interesting gift from a fan, and Liam gets more than a little jealous

The others disagree, but Liam is pretty sure that this is the creepiest gift they have ever received from a fan.

They're in Harry and Louis' room, because that's where the mischief always seems to happen, and Liam is about two seconds away from cleaning all their shit up just as a distraction from it.

“You just don’t like it because it’s you,” Harry says, as he curls his arm around the shoulders of a life-sized blow-up doll that is wearing Liam’s face. “I think it’s charming.”

“And quite happy too,” Louis says from the other side of the doll, his arm wrapped around its waist. “See how all it does is smile? You could learn a few things from it, Liam.”

“I smile all the time!” Liam protests with a scowl.

They laugh at him, and Liam turns on Zayn, who's standing by the door. His smile freezes on his face.

“Tell them it’s creepy,” Liam demands. The corners of Zayn’s mouth twitch.

“I think it’s cute,” he says instead.

Liam groans and decides that his best option right now is to just leave.

“It could be worse,” Niall says before Liam can exit the room. “It could be naked.”

Liam closes the door on their laughter. He’s pretty sure that somewhere in this hotel is something sharp enough to destroy the impostor.

He's standing in the hall, trying to remember if he has scissors packed away anywhere in his luggage when the door opens and shuts behind him.

"You're not actually mad, are you?" Zayn asks.

Liam turns to face him. "No, but I'm pretty creeped out. Like, how did she even make that?"

Zayn shrugs. "Who knows. I don't think she meant to creep you out."

"No, I know," Liam says. And he does. He knows their fans love them, but sometimes... Well, sometimes they do weird shit like create home-made, life-sized, screen-printed blow-up dolls of Liam, and then give them to him.

"If you don't want it, can I have it?" Zayn asks, and Liam laughs. He's pretty sure Zayn is just trying to make a joke, but when he looks over at him, his face is strangely serious.

"Sure?" Liam says, unsure if Zayn is kidding or not.

Zayn flashes a sudden grin at him before bounding back into the room shouting, "He said I could have it!" and tackling the Liam doll out of Harry's hands and onto one of the beds.

As the door swings shut again, Liam feels a sharp sense of worry over what he may have just condoned. Liam stares at the closed door for several seconds before turning and making his way down to the hotel gym.

- - -

Two hours later, Liam is freshly showered and about to enter Zayn and Niall's hotel room for a movie before bed. Louis had promised he could pick the movie this time, though Louis has promised that to Liam no less than seven times before, and he's actually gotten his turn only once.

When he walks in, he's prepared to see tonight's movie already playing on the screen. He's not prepared to see his usual spot next to Zayn on the bed is occupied. By the blow-up doll. Which Zayn appears to be using as a full-body pillow.

"Why are you molesting that doll?" he blurts out.

Harry shushes him, but he's got Louis and Niall's attention. And Zayn's, who lifts his head from where it was resting on the doll's chest.

"M'not molesting him. He likes it," Zayn says, smiling at Liam.

Liam knows he's being playful, but the way he's sort of wrapped around the doll in a somewhat explicit manner makes Liam feel... weird.

"Jealous, Payne?" Louis teases, and then receives an elbow to the ribs from Harry. "Jealous, Payne?" he stage whispers.

Liam figures there are a number of ways this conversation can go. He chooses the path of least resistance.

"Well, it is in my spot."

Zayn laughs and rolls his eyes. He sits up and lifts the doll to his other side. "There," he says, patting the bed next to him.

Liam climbs onto the bed and gets comfortable, knowing that the second Zayn leans against him he won't be able to move again until the end of the movie.

Except that Zayn doesn't lean over onto his shoulder.

In fact, he lays back down, turns his back to Liam and curls around the doll again.

Liam stares at Zayn's back before he hears snickering and looks over to see Louis and Niall giggling into each other's shoulders.

Liam glares at them, and tries to focus on the movie until he realizes that it's Inception, again.

"Lou," he starts to complain, but Harry holds up a hand for silence without even taking his eyes from the tv screen and Liam complies.

He gives Louis a very stern head-shaking instead. In return, Louis widens his grin and nods towards Zayn.

Liam glances down and he immediately wants to glance away, but for some reason he just... can't.

Because Zayn is tracing small patterns along the doll's side, head pillowed on its chest and he looks so comfortable, but cuddling a blow-up doll can't actually be better than cuddling the real thing, right?

But then Liam is thinking about Zayn curled up to him like that, leg thrown over his side, fingers dancing along his hip...

Liam's eyes shoot back to the tv. A moment later he pulls off his sweatshirt because, well, suddenly the room is a bit warm.

With much effort Liam concentrates on the movie for a good twenty minutes before he's saved by his phone buzzing in his pocket.

Before Harry can shush him again, Liam leaps up from the bed and hurries out into the hallway.

"Hey," Liam says into the phone as soon as the door clicks shut.

"Hi," Danielle says back.

"How are you?"

"I'm good," she answers. "You?"

"Fine. Weird. I dunno."

She laughs a little before asking, "What happened?"

"A fan gave me a doll. Of myself. Like, a life-sized blow-up doll."

Liam can't help but smiling along as Danielle bursts into laughter.

"Oh my god, that's brilliant! Send me a picture! Actually, just send me the doll!"

"I can send you a picture, but..."

"You didn't pop it, did you?"

"No, but I already said someone else could have it."

"Someone else? Who would-"

As soon as she cuts herself off, Liam's face falls.

"Zayn wanted it, didn't he?" She doesn't sound mad, but Liam is still nervous to continue the conversation.

"Just as a joke," he says, and tries not to think about Zayn's arm and leg thrown over the doll on the bed.

"Liam-" she says, like he's being an idiot, so he cuts her off.

"No, come on, can we not do this?"

"Do what? You always refuse to address this."

"Because it's crazy. You're being paranoid."

"And you're being blind. You think it's a joke, but it's not. There's a reason he hates me."

"He doesn't hate you!" Liam says, hating that every time he says that to Danielle, he believes it a little less. "And there's nothing going on. There's no reason to be jealous."

There's a pause over the line, and then Danielle says, "I'm not jealous. I'm mad. I'm mad that you let him touch you and sit on you and kiss you and never tell him to stop."

"He's my friend. I don't get why you're trying to make it into something more."

Danielle laughs humorlessly. "I'm not the one trying to make it into something more."

"He doesn't feel that way. He's just fooling around," Liam says, like he does every time, and he hates that every time he says it, he believes it a little more.

"But what if-" She stops, takes a deep breath. "What if he wasn't?"

The stupid rush of nerves and hope that comes is quickly followed by a wave of guilt.

"Please don't worry," is all he says, almost a whisper.

She lets out a huff of air that might have been a laugh. "I try."

There's a pause and then she says, "I'll call back tomorrow."

"Okay," Liam says, taking the out that she's offering him. She won't mention it again tomorrow, so they can have a happier conversation to make up for this one. And as long as they maintain that balance, where the good conversations slightly out-number the bad ones, then they can keep doing this.

"Good night," she says. Not 'I love you,' not 'I miss you,' just 'good night'.

"Good night," Liam says. He stands out in the hall for a while, just leaning against the wall and not thinking about anything.

Some time later, the door opens and Harry and Louis sneak out of the Zayn and Niall's room.

"Is it over already?" Liam asks.

"No," is all Louis says, but his grin speaks volumes. Liam just rolls his eyes.

"Zayn and Niall are asleep, though, so we turned it off," Harry says when Liam goes to move towards the door.

"Oh," Liam says, "Well I'll just grab my sweatshirt."

"Um," Louis says, "It may be in use right now."

When he doesn't continue, Liam raises his eyebrows at them.

"It may be on Zayn's doll," Harry says, looking like he's trying not to laugh.

And there are a lot of things Liam could say in response to that, but what comes out is, "Zayn's doll?"

"You said he coud have it," Louis says.

"Yeah, but, why not 'the Liam doll'?"

Harry shrugs, but Louis says, "Because there are lots of Liam dolls out there, but there's only one that belongs to Zayn: Zayn's doll."

Liam doesn't know what to say, or think, or how to feel about any this, so he turns and walks back into Zayn and Niall's room. Sure enough, Zayn is still curled up around the Liam doll, which is now wearing his sweatshirt. It doesn't fit the doll very well, and Zayn's such a deep sleeper that Liam could probably roll him over and slip the sweatshirt off pretty easily.

Instead, Liam turns and walks out of the room.

Harry and Louis are gone from the hall when he exits, so Liam just walks to his room and gets ready to sleep.

And if he falls asleep thinking about the way Zayn's hair looked against his sweatshirt with his head resting on the doll's chest, well... given the way Liam's felt about Zayn for as long as he has, it's understandable.

wherein i try something new...

berusama — Mon, 21 May 2012 00:49:32 GMT

Uh, if you're reading this, hi :)

Recently i outed myself to the internet as a directioner, and a strange thing happened: other people started adding me as their LJ friend. i've posted to multiple fandom communities in my day and that has never happened before. eventually, i decided to friend everyone back, but i wanted peeps to know that if you're here looking for fic (none of which is actually f-locked), welcome! come on in and take a look around. comment, don't comment, whatever, just know that i'm glad you're here :)

If for some reason you'd still really like for me to add you as a friend, you can just add me and i'll add you in return. or whatever. having LJ friends is all very new to me, but i am open to change :)

So, that being said:

fic master post: Up All Night, Ziam edition

berusama — Mon, 14 May 2012 08:04:57 GMT

EDIT 6/28/13: OK, SO I REALIZE I'VE BEEN AWAY FROM FANDOM FOR AWHILE AND I'M NOT SURE WHEN THAT'S GOING TO CHANGE -- SHIT HAS BEEN CRAY, FOR REALZ, YO -- SO I'VE DECIDED TO MAKE ALL MY 1D WIPs PUBLIC. I'M SORRY IF THAT FRUSTRATES YOU BECAUSE I WON'T PROMISE THAT THEY'LL EVER BE FINISHED, BUT A FEW OF THEM HAVE QUITE A BIT WRITTEN, AND EVEN IF IT MAKES YOU MAD, I'D RATHER YOU READ A LITTLE BIT OF THEM THAN NONE AT ALL. THAT MAY OR MAYNOT MAKE SENSE TO YOU. AND WHO KNOWS, MAYBE IF PEOPLE ACTUALLY READ THIS JOURNAL ANYMORE AND CARE, I'LL BE INSPIRED TO FINISH ONE OR TWO OF THEM. NO PROMISES THO. KBAI <3

Once upon a time, i was watching SNL, minding my own business when a group of young men came onto the screen and viciously attacked me. they ate my heart and then they ate my brain. since i've not been successful in recovering or regrowing either organ, i've decided that the only thing left to do is write fic.

thus, without further ado, i proudly present, in all it's WIP glory:

Up All Night, Ziam edition
Pairing(s): Ziam, the occasional Larry
Rating(s): PG-13 through NC-17
Warning(s): excessive Ziam, genderswap, angst, fluff, AU, and zombies. jk, there are no zombies.
Disclaimer: I cannot and do not own/know/associate with/stalk the real people mentioned herein. The following are works of fiction. No money was made in their creation.
Summary: Ziam, through the tracks of One Direction's debut album: Up All Night.
AN: yes, ~~most~~ some of these stories will be pure crack. due to my strict minimal-angst policy for this pairing, i had to get a little creative with some of the songs

What Makes You Beautiful
title: Baby, You Light Up My World
rating: R
warning: beard!Danielle
summary: Zayn doesn't know he's ~~beautiful~~ fucking hot.

Gotta Be You (WIP)
title:
rating:
summary:

One Thing
title: Fall Into My Arms
rating: PG-13
warning: genderswap, femmeslash
summary: Leah's a musical arts student who has got it bad for the gorgeous scenester she's only ever seen a picture of on the university radio's website.
AN: also a fill for this prompt from the 1D kink meme.

More Than This (WIP)
title: You Are Everything I See
rating: R
summary: Zayn and Liam's first swimming lesson turns into something a lot more complicated.

Up All Night
title: Only Thinking 'Bout This Girl...
rating: hard R
summary: sequel to One Thing. Leah and Zaynah go all the way.

I Wish (WIP)
title:
rating: R
summary: The boys receive an interesting gift from a fan, and Liam gets more than a little jealous.

Tell Me A Lie
title:
rating: PG-13
summary: Liam agrees to team-up with Louis for the boys' up-coming paintball game, but Zayn doesn't want to hear it.

Taken
title:
rating: R
summary: All it takes is Liam mentioning he's back together with Danielle for the slow torture to start again.

I Want
title:
rating: R
summary: Zayn goes to Liam for advice about girl-trouble, and learns some very interesting information.

Everything About You
title: Let Them Say What They Want
rating: PG-13
summary: Zayn worries that he is going to screw up his relationship with Liam before it can really even begin.

Same Mistakes
title:
rating:
summary:

Save You Tonight
title:
rating: PG-13
summary: Either Zayn has been reading too many comic books lately or there is a masked vigilante following him around and keeping him out of harm's way.

Stole My Heart
title: Right here with you, tonight
rating: R
summary Liam tries to sleep through Zayn having a naughty dream. Until it becomes apparent that said dream is abou him.

Stand Up (WIP)
title: You Can Call Me A Thief
rating: R
summary: Simon Cowell is an infamous fence in the international black market, and he's put together a crack team for his next big job. Will the raw chemistry between the thief and the safe-cracker bloom into something else before the mission ends and they all go their separate ways?

Moments (WIP)
title: This Life, For One More Day
rating: NC-17
summary: It's the end of their world.
AN: okay, this fic got seriously out of hand. it started as a tragic AU, and then mutated into an epic AU that turned out to be inspired by, but not based on, certain timelines in the Game of Thrones universe. honestly, i'm not sure how this happened, but i'm kind of glad it did, because i kind of think it rocks.

Bonus tracks:
Na Na Na
title:
rating:
summary:

Forever Young
title:
rating: NC-17
summary: A fangirl's wish, made with the best intentions, gives the boys a surprise they never dreamed would actually come true.

fic: One Thing (genderswap!Ziam, Larry) (part 1/2)

berusama — Mon, 14 May 2012 06:34:09 GMT

Title: Fall Into My Arms (part 1/2)
Pairing(s): Ziam, Larry
Rating: PG-13
Warning(s): genderswap, femmeslash
Disclaimer: I cannot and do not own/know/associate with/stalk the real people mentioned herein. The following is a work of fiction. No money was made in its creation.
Summary: Leah's a musical arts student who has got it bad for the gorgeous scenester she's only ever seen a picture of on the university radio's website.
Author's Note: a fill for this prompt from the 1D kink meme.

Leah Payne lives, breathes, eats, sleeps and studies music. It is her life and has been since she was five years old and decided she was secretly a Disney Princess.

One thing she prides herself on is a wide knowledge and acceptance of all kinds and mediums of music. Radio isn't something she's ever loved to the point of obsession -- unlike guitar playing and a capella singing -- but when she's handed a flyer for the school's radio station one day while walking down the main drag of her university, she puts it in her bag to look into later.

Granted, she puts every flyer she gets in her bag -- because refusing to take them just seems so rude, she had explained to Lucy once -- but this one she actually makes a point of looking for once she gets back to her dorm room.

The fanciest thing about the flyer is that it's printed on bright pink paper, but at least Leah doesn't have to read the thing twice to figure out what it's trying to tell her. The university radio station apparently has a live broadcast for 8 hours every day. Leah doesn't have a radio, but the flyer lets her knows that there's a live stream online too, so she looks that up.

And obviously this is something she was meant to discover because the tail end of 1901 by Phoenix is playing and she loves that song. 1901 transitions smoothly into Boy With a Coin, and Leah decides this is something that must be savored. She lies down on her bed, laptop by her head on the desk, and just listens.

It's another five or six songs before a feminine voice floats out of Leah's speakers, low and a little raspy.

"Alright, it's time for the last song dedication and since I had a really terrible day, this one goes out to me. Enjoy."

And then a song she is pretty sure isn't supposed to be played via a public school radio broadcast begins. Leah rolls off her bed less than elegantly because she suddenly has to know who the hell is behind all these song choices.

The live stream credits a 'DJ Malik.' While the name is less than original, one click later Leah is staring at a profile picture that may have broken her brain.

It's like suddenly everything is happening in slow motion and she's seeing the picture in stages only: long, dark, wavy hair; olive skin; thick, black Ray-Ban frames; long, full eyelashes; a hint of a tongue against pretty lips -- the camera obviously caught her unaware -- and eyes... eyes that Leah can't quite look away from.

Leah catches herself staring at the picture and quickly minimizes the screen. She feels a little hot and uncomfortable, like how she feels when she sees a police car and suddenly can't remember if she'd been speeding or not. The song's not really her taste, anyway, so she closes the browser, shuts her laptop and goes to open a window. Her room is feeling a bit stuffy.

Harriet gets home an hour later and Leah is sitting in the living room, pretending not to think about radio broadcasts or hipster glasses.

"Hey," Harrie chirps. As she walks in, Leah marvels, not for the first time, at how much effort Harrie puts into looking cute for class.

"Hi," Leah answers, setting down her history reading. "How're you?"

"Exhausted," Harrie says, sitting down on Leah's legs even though there is plenty of couch space for her to, you know...not. "Thank god it's Friday."

"So does that mean you're not coming out tonight?" Leah asks. "You know Luce wants to go to the pub."

Harrie shrugs. "She'll get over it." She waits a beat before adding, "Maybe Danielle will want to go with you guys. Luce always enjoys dancing with her."

Her tone is carefully nonchalant, but Leah knows she's dying to know how things are going with Dani.

"Yeah, maybe," Leah says.

"When does she get out of class?"

Leah hesitates, because she honestly doesn't know, and she's pretty sure Harrie picks up on it. "Soon, I think. I'll go text her."

She carefully extricates herself from beneath Harrie and even more carefully avoids her gaze as she leaves the room.

Leah gets her phone out of her bag and types out a quick text.

want 2 go out 2nite?

She sets her phone down next to her laptop and her eyes bounce between the two devices. She wants Danielle to text back, she does, but she also wants to go back to the school radio's website and see if that picture is actually as beautiful as the image still bouncing around inside her head.

The front door bursts open just then and Leah can hear Lucy announce her arrival from all the way across the apartment.

When she walks into the living room, Lucy already has Harrie pinned to the couch and is steadily licking inside her girlfriend's mouth.

"Hey," Leah says to announce her presence, but she doesn't really expect them to stop.

"Hey," Lucy says a minute later, after Leah has moved into the kitchen and turned on the electric kettle. "How're you?"

"Good," Leah says at the same time Harrie says, "Fine, thanks for asking."

"I know you're fine," Luce says, leaning close and tugging on one of Harrie's long, beautiful curls. Harrie laughs and pushes herself away, straightening her skirt and joining Leah in the kitchen. Lucy, of course, follows.

"So, ladies," she says, hopping up onto the counter, "where are we headed tonight?"

"To bed," Harrie says, just as Leah answers, "Don't care."

"Bed?!" Luce cries. "It's Friday, you can't just go to bed!"

"Luce, you know I've got early classes," Harrie says, like she has been since the semester began. "I've been wanting to go to bed since I woke up."

Lucy pouts, and Leah busies herself with making tea. There are a number of ways this could play out, but it's usually best just go with the flow and let them figure it out. Going with the flow is something Leah has gotten a lot better at since moving in with Harrie and Luce.

"I really wanted to take you dancing tonight," Luce is murmuring to Harrie, who is now leaning against the counter, between Luce's thighs.

"I know, but we can dance later. Maybe this weekend," Harrie responds, just as quiet. Leah goes to the cupboard for the honey.

"But I want to dance tonight," Luce whispers. "Like, really badly."

Leah groans out loud, just to let them know that she's caught on to their little code.

Harrie laughs and pushes away from Lucy. "Then pick someone up."

"I don't want to," Lucy whines.

"Well you're not dancing with me tonight."

"Harriet! This is how lesbian bed death starts! You can't do this to me!"

At this point, Leah chooses to leave the kitchen. She knows Luce will be sure to let her know what the plan is as soon as she decides.

Once inside her room, she immediately picks up her phone. She has a new text from Danielle.

no, practicing is all it says.

Leah stares at her phone and then sets it back on the desk.

Everyone had told her that going to college with your high school sweetheart would be difficult, but no one said it would be so... anticlimactic.

It's just that Leah can practically feel them growing apart and, yes, it hurts, but it's also not very surprising or dramatic. It's just happening, and Leah's not sure what to do about it.

Her eyes dart to her computer, and she does know one thing that absolutely won't help: continually thinking about beautiful strangers who have excellent taste in music.

"Alright, Payne," Luce says as she walks into Leah's room without knocking. "Looks like it's just you and me. I hope you're ready to dance."

Lucy pouts over Harrie's absence for the first hour they're at the pub, but then she finds the most femme lady in the entire place and coaxes her out onto the dance floor. Leah joins them eventually, and even though she misses Danielle, she has fun.

They stumble home at three in the morning, trying to keep the girl Luce picked up quiet because they know Harrie will be asleep on the couch. Leah doesn't understand their relationship at all, but she already knows that come morning, Harrie will have met Lucy's one-night-stand and be in process of charming the panties off of her before Luce even wakes up. Leah's seen it happen so many times that she sometimes wakes up extra early just so she can go out for a run and not have to watch Harrie in her lingerie, sleepily greeting the girl as she tries to sneak out of the apartment, and Harrie asking if she wants some breakfast before she goes, and Harrie sitting her down on the couch and leaving almost no space between them, and Harrie laughing and flirting and touching until Luce wakes up, sees them, kicks the other girl out and jumps Harrie right then and there on the couch.

It's not that Leah's still unused to their total lack of boundaries by now, or that it's not kind of hot to see -- it totally is, with the contrast between Harrie's long, pretty hair and curvy physique and Luce's boyish figure and short, choppy haircut, but sometimes it's just too sweet. When Leah sees them together sometimes it just makes her worry that she'll never find anyone who fits her the way Harrie and Lucy fit together.

But those are musings for another night. Leah brushes her teeth, washes her face, changes her clothes and gets into bed. She checks her phone again, but there are no other messages from Danielle. Feeling hollow, Leah lets herself be lulled to sleep by the sounds of the anonymous sex happening in the next room over.

- - -

The next day, Leah nonchalantly tunes in to the university radio's station. It's just that it's three pm again and listening to music helps her study, okay? And her ipod has a radio feature for a reason, right? So she might as well listen. It's totally harmless because "DJ Malik" isn't even on. So if she goes back to stare at her picture again, well. On the website she sees that "DJ Malik" only airs on Fridays, but she keeps listening every day because this is not just about listening to a gorgeous girl play amazing music, which is pretty much the best of both worlds. This is about supporting all her other peers who happen to have air time in the afternoons. Complete harmless.

Except when she hears that voice greet her again on Friday, a shiver runs down her spine in a not-so-harmless kind of way.

"Hello and a fabulous Friday to you all. The sun is shining, the birds are attacking innocent passer-bys in the university center and the girl who rejected me in high school and now wants to get together has finally gotten the message that I'm not interested. It's been a brilliant day, so let's get this thing started," and without further ado, the first notes of If You See Kay fill Leah's ears.

Leah really likes this song but her brain seems to be stuck on the part where "DJ Malik" is apparently queer. Her head hits the library table with a worryingly loud thump because maybe things are not so harmless anymore.

- - -

The next week Leah actually goes out and buys a radio.

She convinces herself that she went because she needed a study-break from the pre-midterms frenzy that their apartment has become (Leah has long since given up lecturing about the merits of starting one's study regimen before the night before the test, but Lucy still refuses to listen).

"What do you need a radio for?" Harrie asks. Why she is in Leah's room, studying on Leah's bed, is beyond her.

"Um," Leah says, because she's never been good at lying. "You know. The usual reasons."

Harrie raises an eyebrow at her. "Listening to the radio?"

"Yeah."

"Since when do you listen to the radio? You've always got CDs playing in the car." Harrie sits up and crosses her legs under her, but she doesn't seem to be that invested in the conversation, so Leah lets her guard down a little. Besides, it's not like Harrie will give her too hard of a time for having an innocent, semi-crush on stranger, while also having a girlfriend. It seems like Harrie has a new one of those every week.

"Just started listening to the school's radio station. S'pretty good, actually."

"Really?" Harrie looks up from her notebook. "I heard it sucks."

"Oh," Leah says, because yeah, she really only listens to like 5% of the station's content. "Well, there's this one girl I listen to, and she's pretty good."

"Cool," Harrie says, and that, thankfully, is the end of it.

The next three days are stressful. Leah doesn't hear from Danielle at all, but that's not really all that unusual, even when they're not cramming for exams, so she spend every waking moment studying. When Friday afternoon finally arrives and Leah has completed all of her midterms, she celebrates with DJ Malik and her new radio.

- - -

"Alright," Professor Cowell says, clicking to the last slide of his powerpoint. It shows the grading curve for last week's midterm. "We're ending class five minutes early so that your exams can be passed back. If you earned a 65% or lower, see your TA immediately." And with that, he's packing up his things and the TAs are making their way to the front of the room.

Leah heads to the TA with the test for last names 'I through P'. She kind of zones out because she knows her name will be almost last, so when the TA shouts, "Malik," above the din of the room, Leah almost misses it. In fact, she almost thinks that her ears are playing tricks until the TA repeats, "Zaynah Malik?" and someone says, "Here," while trying to make their way through the crowd. When they finally get to the TA, Leah's breath rushes out of her lungs because holy shit, it's her.

Leah watches her take the exam from the TA and quickly cram it into her messenger bag while she pushes through the traffic in front of the door. Her hair is pulled back and her shirt hangs off her shoulders in a way that makes Leah want to bite at her neck. Her jeans look painted-on and her shoes look like something a hippy would wear, but the overall image is so breathtaking that Leah almost wants to forget her own test and chase after her.

She doesn't, of course, because this music comp. class is pretty much her life right now, but it's a close call.

As soon as the TA calls her name, Leah grabs her test and bolts for the door, flipping the booklet open to check her grade (95%, thank you very much). By the time she makes it outside, however, DJ Malik -- Zaynah, Leah's brain corrects, dreamily -- is nowhere to be seen. She's disappointed for a total of three seconds before it hits her that holy shit, they share a class!

The way her stomach kind of flips over makes her feel guilty, so she pulls out her phone and calls Danielle. She doesn't answer, because she never seems to these days, and Leah walks home pretending that she's not very, very excited for Friday's class.

- - -

Come Friday morning, Leah is conflicted.

She doesn't know whether to go to class extra early or later than usual, because if Zaynah gets there early too, she'll have options about where to sit near her, but if Zaynah is a late arriver, then Leah may have already chosen a seat and it would probably look weird if she got up again to move closer.

In the end, Leah ends up leaving at the same time she always does with the plan to loiter at the back of the class and try to not look like too much of a creeper.

The lecture hall has seating for about three hundred, but right now there are only a handful of students present. One of those students, however, has long, dark, wavy hair that makes something in Leah's chest constrict uncomfortably.

She's here.

She's here and sitting alone, right up against the wall of the room.

She's here and Leah has no idea what to do.

After several seconds of hesitation, Leah decides to sit a row behind and two seats to the left of who she's about 90% sure is Zaynah "DJ" Malik.

Leah is a little embarrassed with herself, but it's not stalking if they're both legitimately supposed to be here, right?

Zaynah is doodling on her notebook, and the sketch kind of looks like two My Little Ponies duking it out. Leah tries to suppress a smile and busies herself with preparing for lecture.

By the time Professor Cowell begins class, Zaynah has moved from her notebook to her hand. She's currently drawing twisting lines around the words 'The National,' just below the knuckle of her thumb.

Needless to say, Leah has trouble concentrating for the rest of the lecture.

Fifty minutes later, Zaynah is throwing her things into her bag and rushing out of the lecture hall in a way that has Leah scrambling to keep up.

It's not stalking if you already know where someone is headed, right? Because it's that time on Friday, and Leah really just wants to know where the radio broadcast building is.

It turns out to be an older-looking building clear across campus with vine-covered bricks and old stone benches outside. Leah sits down, pulls out her ipod and her phone and is not at all surprised when Zaynah's first song choice is About Today. Leah loves this song, and she closes her eyes to hum along. But then the words start and they hit her like cold water. She feels frozen as she listens to the lyrics, unable to escape the truth in them, and she suddenly wants to know how Zaynah knows. How doe she knows that this is Leah's life right now?

She looks down at the phone in her hand and unlocks it.

hey, she texts Danielle, even though she knows she probably won't get a response any time soon.

A minute later, though, her phone vibrates and Danielle has written back, Hey :) water break. how r u?

good, Leah quickly types out, u wanna get dinner 2nite?

Yes. Danielle answers.

Leah expects to feel resigned, like the thing she has been avoiding is finally here, but instead she feels relieved. Like maybe they're going to stop slipping away from each other for a moment and actually make a decision. It's a muted kind of relief, though, and Leah spend the rest of Zaynah's playlist staring across the quad at nothing.

"Alright, ladies," Luce proclaims as soon as she walks through the door, "what are the plans for tonight?"

"I'm going to dinner with Dani," Leah answers.

"Oh yeah?" Harrie asks, in that way that conveys she's surprised and would like to pry further but won't if you don't want her to.

"Yeah," Leah answers, in a way that she hopes says, 'yes, we are still together, and no, I'm not sure for how much longer.'

Harrie studies her for a moment before turning back to Luce. "Guess you and I will have the flat to ourselves tonight."

Luce jumps up from the couch where she had just seated herself and pulls Leah up as well.

"What was that? You need to go get ready for dinner? Yes, I suppose you're right well have fun!" Hurricane Lucy exclaims as she pushes Leah into her room and closes the door behind her. Leah can only smile, and by the time she grabs what she needs to take into the bathroom with her, Harrie and Luce are already tangled up in each other on the couch.

Dinner with Dani is nice, in the way that meeting up with old friends is nice. They go to a tiny italian place near campus where they had their first date, but it doesn't feel sweet or romantic. It's just... nice. Things between them have been 'just nice' for a while.

Throughout dinner it feels like she's getting to know Danielle all over again, because there is so much going on in their lives that they have to catch each other up on, and by the time they get to dessert, Leah is pretty sure Dani is thinking the same thing she is.

"You know I love you, right?" Leah says, because it's as good a transition as any.

Danielle smiles a small but knowing smile and says, "Yeah."

"And I miss you," Leah adds.

"I miss you too."

There's a pause, like they're both waiting for the other to say it, and then Dani says, "It's just difficult to be with someone when you're never with them."

"Yeah," Leah agrees quietly. "So I guess... we could try harder, or..." She trails off and then looks up to see Danielle smiling softly at her.

"Or," Danielle agrees. "I think that, in our situation, what's going to be best in the long-run is what's easiest now."

And even though she hasn't said it, hasn't said that she wants to end their relationship, Leah feels a deep sense of relief that she wasn't expecting. It's almost like if she lets go of Danielle, then she can let go of who she used to be and become someone new. Someone she's already becoming but hasn't really accepted because it never seemed to fit with who she was -- who Danielle expected her to be.

"I think you're right," she says, as steady as possible.

Danielle smiles again, slow and almost sad, and reaches across the table to hold Leah's hand.

"We'll still be friends, right?"

"Of course," Leah rushes to assure her, squeezing her hand.

"Good." Dani squeezes her hand back and whispers, "I love you."

"I love you too," Leah says, because she does. It's just different now than when they were in high school. It's a love based on a shared history and mutual affection, but it doesn't burn the way it used to. Leah panics for a moment and wonders if maybe that's just what happens to love. Maybe over time it just calms, gets muted, and she's about to throw something away for the wrong reasons.

But then she thinks of Lucy and Harrie, and how they push and pull and challenge and love each other so much, and she knows that even in the beginning, she and Danielle were never like that.

"You ready?" Danielle asks, pulling Leah from her thoughts. She's gathering her things to leave.

Leah takes a deep breath and knows that, yes, she is ready.

- - -

She doesn't tell Lucy or Harrie right away.

It's not that she's moping or anything, because she had known that her relationship with Danielle was on it's way out anyway. But it's like all of a sudden, the only things she can think about are all the amazing times she and Danielle had together, and she's not sure that she wants her two best friends to try and cheer her up.

Besides, she already knows what they'll say: 'have more sex' and 'don't listen to Luce.'

So she's had kind of a bummer of a week and now she's having to practically run across campus to get back to her dorm in time because she totally forgot her ipod and, besides being a creepy stalker during their music comp class, Zaynah's air time is the only thing she's been looking forward to all week.

"Hey!" Harrie greets her when Leah bursts into their flat and then calls after her, "Where's the fire?"

When Leah doesn't answer, too busy turning on her radio and holding her breath to hear the last of Zaynah's opening words, Harrie follows her and leans in the doorway.

"Everything okay?" she asks, and even without looking Leah knows she's smiling her good-natured smile.

"Yeah," Leah says, still a little out of breath. "I just didn't want to miss her."

"That the DJ you've been following?" Harrie asks, because of course she would remember some one-off conversation they had two weeks ago.

"Yeah," Leah says again.

They listen in silence for a moment or two before Harrie walks in and sits in her desk chair. "Is everything okay?" she asks, gentle as ever.

Leah considers telling her it's nothing, but it's not nothing, so she says, "Dani and I called it quits."

Harrie nods like she knew it was coming, and she probably did.

"You okay?"

"I think so. Just nostalgic, you know?"

"Yeah, well, you two were together for a while," Harrie says, and it's not like she's blowing it off, but she says it lightly. Like it's something that Leah will get over eventually. Leah knows she will.

"You gonna tell Luce?"

"Yeah, of course."

And speak of the devil, they hear the front door open.

"We're in here," Harrie calls before Luce can start shouting.

"And what's going on in here?" Lucy asks, sauntering in and taking a seat on Harrie's lap. They share a kiss, and Leah looks away quickly.

"We were just talking," Harrie says in a way that is probably meant to be a smooth transition but pretty much just makes it so that Luce is looking between them expectantly.

"About...?" Luce prompts.

Leah sighs and says, "Dani and I called it quits."

"Oh," is Lucy's response, which is about as dull as Harrie's. "I'm sorry, were we supposed to be surprised?"

Leah can't help but laugh. "No, I suppose not," she admits.

"We can pretend!" Luce assures her before throwing a hand over her chest and shouting, "Oh my god, that bitch! How can she do that to you? And when you're carrying her child??"

Harrie laughs and swivels the chair to face Leah's laptop. "We could call in to her DJ and request a break-up song!"

"'Her DJ'?" Lucy asks, craning her neck around to look at Leah. "You have a DJ?"

"No," Leah says at the same time Harrie answers, "Yes."

"I just follow her," Leah protests, but both girls are now busy trying to type on her laptop, each only using half of the keyboard.

"DJ Malik?" Luce asks eventually, having obviously found the live stream. "Whoa, DJ Malik! Damn, she's fine. You need to get on that, now that you're single."

Harrie pinches Lucy's side. "Too soon."

"Fine, then I'll get on that," Luce proclaims. "There's a chat box here. I could send her my number and tell her to call me for a good time."

"Or," Harrie stresses, swiveling the chair again so Lucy is turned away from the laptop, "we could ask her nicely to please play a break-up song for our friend."

"Our hot, gay friend who is now single," Lucy dictates over Harrie's shoulder.

"Luce, this isn't about sex!"

"Everything is about sex!"

"Oh my god," Leah groans, hiding a smile and getting up to read the screen over Harrie's shoulder. She listens to Harrie and Luce bicker over what to write for another three minutes, then what to eat tonight for another five. They decide on mac 'n cheese and tell Leah to stay there and let them cook her dinner before bouncing off to turn the kitchen into a war zone.

Leah smiles after them for a good minute before laying down and just enjoying the music.

A half hour later, she's in a happy place, humming along to the last notes of Marching Bands Of Manhattan when that voice comes on.

"So it's that time again for the last-song dedication, and I've actually had a request come in."

Leah's eyes fly open and the rest of her body tenses. She strains her ears to hear what will come next over the banging coming from the kitchen.

"It's for a student named Leah, and her friends would like for me to play a break-up song for her. But since I'm not very well-versed in break-up songs, I decided to just play the first one that came to mind. So. This one's for you, Leah."

And she's can't really get over the way Zaynah says her name, or the fact that she just said it at all, so when the opening notes to Bye Bye Bye hit her ears, she really can't do anything but laugh.

- - -

That next Monday, Leah almost sits next to Zaynah in class.

She's timed it well enough that she gets there just as the seats are starting to fill up, but the row Zaynah always sits in, always pressed up against the wall, is still fairly empty. Leah's hearts starts hammering as soon as she sees the opportunity, and she slowly makes her way down the lecture hall stairs, trying to psyche herself up to do this.

But by the time she draws even with Zaynah's row her courage is gone, and Leah quickly jumps back up a step and settles for sitting right behind her.

She rolls her eyes at herself as soon as she sits down, because usually she's so brave around women, but apparently she's found the one exception.

Zaynah doodles The Hulk all over her notes that class period and Leah notes suffer drastically for her distraction.

- - -

'Just mention the song dedication,' Leah tells herself on Wednesday. 'Be cool, and nonchalant, and just sit next to her!'

She gets to Zaynah's row again but panics and for some reason walks down another step instead of back up, so she has to sit with her back to the other girl for the entire lecture.

It's the worst lecture ever.

- - -

Friday, Zaynah is missing.

Feeling bold with her absence, Leah sits right next to the seat Zaynah usually inhabits, but the other girl never shows up.

It's the second worst lecture ever.

When class ends, Leah opens her bag to take out her ipod, hoping that Zaynah will still be on even though she wasn't in class, when her phone catches her eye. She's got five missed calls and thirteen texts, which either means that Lucy finally burned down the house or something awesome is happening somewhere on campus.

'Get to the quad!' is the jist of the majority of the texts.

She's in the process of leaving the lecture hall and listening to the first voice message when she stops dead at Luce's words.

"Found your DJ," she says, and Leah can her music blaring in the background. "If you're not here in the next half hour, I'm going to go hit on her."

Leah deletes the message and practically runs to the quad.

She hears the music long before she can tell what's going on, but apparently the school radio station is trying to get a little publicity by playing music at the campus Friday flea market.

Leah heads straight for the makeshift stage/tent thing they have going on, but she stops when she spots Zaynah.

Her hair is down and she's wearing a white, flowy top and short denim shorts, and Leah kind of wants to do something inappropriate to her legs. When her phone goes off in her hand, it takes her a few seconds to answer.

"You here?" Harrie shouts in her ear, and the answer should be obvious because Leah's sure the music is just as loud on her end.

"Yeah, where are you guys?" Leah shouts back.

"By the right side of the stage."

Leah makes her way through the crowds and spots Harrie's yellow sundress almost immediately.

"Finally!" Lucy exclaims as soon as she sees Leah. "I was about to make my move!"

Leah laughs and glances back over at Zaynah. She's talking with a blonde in a trucker hat that reads 'Hide your wives!', but then she laughs and it's kind of like looking at the sun: Leah just has to look away. When she does, Harrie is grinning at her and kind of jumping in place.

"You gonna talk to her?" she asks. "You should talk to her!"

"About what?" Leah asks. "I can't even talk to her in class, what would I say now?"

"Go request a song," Lucy says, like it's that easy.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure she and the blonde girl are taking requests," Harry says, practically pushing Leah towards the other side of the stage.

"Harrie, Harrie," Leah protests, trying to escape her grip. Harrie does stop but only to spin Leah around and give her a stern look.

"Lee, it's gonna be fine. She's just a girl."

Leah wants to protest that no, she's not just a girl, she's much more intimidating than that, but she nods instead and lets Harrie turn her back around to give her one more shove.

Leah walks up to the makeshift stage and waits for Zaynah to notice her.

When she does, she's just finished laughing at something the blonde one said, and she turns to look at Leah with the end of her smile still spread across her face. It freezes, though, when their eyes lock and Zaynah kind of just stares at her. It gives Leah the confidence she needs to say, "Hi."

Zaynah blinks and seems to collect herself enough to say, "Hi," in return, before realizing that Leah might be there for a reason. "Um, what can I do for you? I mean, you want to request a song?"

Leah smiles and takes another step forward. Zaynah is a couple inches shorter than her, she notices.

"Actually, I just wanted to say thanks for a request you did for me last week. My friends asked for you to play a break-up song for me during your air time."

Zaynah's face clears of its brief confusion and she smiles, bright and beautiful.

"Leah," she says in recognition, and Leah could listen to her say her name all day. She pulls a half-grimace and glances down between them. "I hope you didn't mind the song selection. Haven't been through too many break-ups, myself."

"No, it was great," Leah quickly assures her. "I used to love N'SYNC, so."

"Me too," Zaynah laughs, and then they are just smiling at each other for a little too long.

Someone clears their throat, and both girls look over at the blonde. She has an eyebrow raised and a look on her face like she doesn't know whether to coo or laugh at them.

"Who's this, then?" she asks.

"This is Leah," Zaynah answers. "Her friends are the ones who requested a break-up song last Friday. Leah, this is Nia."

"How's it going?" Nia asks, reaching out to shake Leah's hand. Her handshake is strong and confident, and a little bit of Leah's earlier intimidation creeps back in.

"Good, you?"

Nia says, "Can't complain," and then shoots a look at Zaynah.

Zaynah laughs and then explains, "She just was."

"Not my fault Paul brought terrible snacks with him. I might sneak down to the UC, you want anything?"

"No, thanks," Zaynah says. She and Nia share another look, to which Zaynah responds, "Bye, Ni."

Nia grins at Leah, says, "Bye," and then she's gone.

They look at each other for a beat before Leah blurts out, "Did you know we have a class together?"

"We do?" Zaynah asks, but she doesn't seem creeped out that Leah knows this.

"Yeah, music comp."

"Professor Cowell?" Zaynah asks, and Leah nods. "I missed it today."

"I can see why," Leah says, earning her a small laugh.

"Yeah, I've been here all day."

Leah sees her opening and says, "Well, you can borrow my notes, if you want."

The smile Zaynah rewards her with is kind of breathtaking. "That would be amazing."

"Alright, cool." They stare at each other for several seconds before Leah realizes that the silence is starting to stretch into awkward territory. She doesn't want to leave, but Zaynah isn't saying anything and before she knows it, she blurts out, "Well, I guess I'll see you on Monday, then."

Zaynah's smile falters a little, but she says, "Yeah, see you," so Leah smiles and kind of waves as she backs up, and then she turns and walks away.

Harrie and Lucy intercept her before she gets too far. They've apparently been watching the whole time and demand to know every detail of the conversation.

"Why didn't you get her number?" Lucy demands as Harrie does a happy little dance for her "lecture date."

"What are you going to wear?" Harrie asks, clasping her hands together, and Leah already knows that they're going to spend all weekend discussing it.

"Go naked," Lucy suggests, shoving her hands in her pockets and leading them towards a booth full of hats. "I think it will set the best impression. Let her know your intentions right away."

Harrie smacks her arm playfully, and they spend the next hour or so browsing through the market.

Leah can't help but sneak glances over at the stage every time it comes into her view, and she thinks that one time Zaynah is looking back, but she's too far away to be sure.

When they're making their way back towards their dorm, Harrie makes sure they walk right past the radio station's tent. Zaynah is up on the stage now and somehow -- part of Leah's brain wants to call it fate -- their eyes meet. Zaynah waves, and as Leah waves back she sees Nia whisper something to Zaynah with a grin. Zaynah shoves the blonde and looks back at Leah with a smile that Leah can't get out of her head.

- - -

Leah would like to be able to say that her impending lecture-date with Zaynah doesn't haunt her all weekend, but that would be a horrible lie.

She distracts herself sufficiently -- watching movies with Lucy while she lets Harrie paint her toenails -- but it seems like every five minutes she'll remember what waits for her on Monday and this sick sort of flippy thing happens to her stomach.

"So really, what are you going to wear tomorrow?" Harrie asks Sunday night, and Leah is surprised that this is the first time she's brought it up since Friday, unlike Lucy, who has taken to giving Leah "first date" tips all weekend ('Make sure she sees you eating breath mints. That way it's like an automatic plus if she's still debating whether or not she wants to kiss you').

"Probably what I normally wear," Leah says, because, okay, she's been thinking about it all day. "Don't really want to make her think I dressed up or anything."

"Why not?" Harrie asks. "You want to impress her, don't you?"

"Well, yeah, but I don't want her to think that it's like a big deal, if she really is just looking to use my notes."

"Oh sweetie," Harrie coos, sweetly patronizing. "Did you not see the way she was looking at you? I saw it and I was clear across the quad."

"No," Leah denies immediately. She can feel heat radiating off her cheeks. "Really?"

"Yes, really," Harrie laughs, and leads Leah to her closet.

They compromise on a form-fitting t-shirt and shorts that Harrie cuffs so they're shorter than Leah would normally wear them.

Luce whistles appreciatively when Harrie drags Leah into the living room to model the outfit, and Leah figures that if she can trust these two with her life every time she lets one of them drive her car, then she can trust them with an outfit decision.

- - -

Leah wakes up way too early on Monday and decides that going for a run will be a good way to kill some time. Except that during her run it occurs to her that maybe she should copy her notes for Zaynah ahead of time so that she doesn't have to write them all down and Leah can keep her notebook. So she runs back to her flat, showers, changes, and then hurries to the campus library.

She ends up with like twenty copies of the same lecture notes before she's happy with the quality and spends the next three hours worrying about her hair.

By the time she gets to class, her stomach is in such knots that she doesn't even try to eat lunch. She's early, as usual, but Zaynah is already there, sitting in the same seat.

Her hair is down and gently curled, and Leah hesitates for just a second before descending the steps and turning to walk down Zaynah's row.

She looks up as Leah approaches and smiles like she's genuinely happy to see her. It makes Leah's whole morning worth every second.

"Hey," Leah says, not sure if she should sit next to Zaynah or leave a seat between them.

"Hi," Zaynah returns, scooting her bag so it's against the wall, clearly indicating that Leah should sit next to her. She does and then pulls the notes out of her bag.

"These are last Friday's notes. I hope you can read them okay," she says, handing over the papers.

"What? Wow. You didn't have to copy them," Zaynah says as she flips through the pages.

Leah watches her look through the notes, nervously hoping they are adequate. "Well, I figured it would be easiest this way."

"Thank you, this is so great," Zaynah says and finally looks up to smile at Leah.

Leah smiles back and says, "No problem."

"Cool," Zaynah says, putting the papers down and turning towards Leah in her seat. Their legs brush, and the sensation of smooth skin on smooth skin makes Leah's insides clench. "So how was your weekend?"

"It was good. Pretty calm," Leah answers, hyperaware of where Zaynah's knee is grazing her thigh.

"Ah, I wish mine had been calm. I told Nia I'd help her train for this triathlon she wants to do this summer, and I meant that I'd like cheer her on and stuff, but she took it to mean that I would be training with her."

"Is it bad? Because you look pretty fit," Leah says before she can stop herself. She can feel a blush spread across her cheeks.

Zaynah's eyebrow shoots up, but she's smiling too. "Well thanks, but that's not really the problem." She pauses before saying, "I can't swim," like she thinks maybe Leah will tease her for it. When Leah doesn't say anything, she continues, "But Nia said she had to race against someone to keep up her motivation, so she made me wear arm floaties and an inner-tube. It was horrible."

Leah laughs, but only because Zaynah is smiling like it's supposed to be funny. And it is funny, except for how Leah is now imagining Zaynah in a bikini and arm floaties.

Thankfully, Professor Cowell enters the hall and gives Leah something legitimate to look at for a few seconds while she regains her composure.

"Have you ever tried to learn how?" Leah asks, getting out her notebook and a pen.

"No," Zaynah says with a shrug, fiddling with Leah's notes. "It's kind of embarrassing, isn't it? A 19-year-old girl not knowing how to swim?"

"I don't think so," Leah says, sitting back and smiling at the other girl.

Zaynah smiles back and then keeps on smiling until the professor clips on his microphone and begins the lecture.

Leah tries really hard to take good notes, but Zaynah's legs are still kind of angled toward her as she leans against the wall, and it's quite distracting, wondering when they're going to accidentally touch next. Also, she's pretty sure Zaynah is sneaking glances at her as she doodles in her notebook.

Fifty minute classes never seem to last long, but this one in particular flies by. Leah's glad she did the reading ahead of time, because she would have had absolutely no clue what was going on otherwise.

An hour later, Professor Cowell dismisses them and they begin to pack up their things. Leah purposely takes longer than usual to put her things away.

"Well, hey, thanks again for the notes," Zaynah says. She lifts her bag onto her lap, and Leah realizes that she's blocking the other girl from leaving.

"Yeah, no problem at all," Leah says quickly, standing up. They sort of stare at each other for a moment before Zaynah smiles.

"See you on Wednesday, yeah?"

"I'll be here," Leah answers, moving to exit their row. They get in each other's way on the stairs, Leah trying to walk down as Zaynah goes to walk up, so they laugh and brace each other for balance. They're still laughing and touching when Leah looks up to see Zaynah looking back at her. With her down a step, they are standing exactly at eye-level, and Zaynah's got this look on her face that Leah hasn't seen anywhere but the movies.

"See you," Leah says softly.

"See you," Zaynah returns, and then they are moving away from each other, but the sensation of Zaynah's hands on her arms stays with her the whole way home.

"Whoa," Harrie says as soon as Leah walks through the front door. "Who hit you with the love stick?"

"What?" Lucy demands, flipping over to glare at Leah from over the top of the couch. "Leah, have you gone to the dark side?"

"Not that kind of love stick," Harrie clarifies, poking Lucy's thigh with her foot. "Like, a stick that makes people fall in love when you whack them with it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Leah says, and even she can hear the far-away tone of her voice.

"Oh my god, you've just come back from your lecture date, haven't you?" Harrie realizes, and the size of her grin is slightly ridiculous.

"I have," Leah confirms, setting her bag down and leaning against the back of the couch.

"And?" Lucy prompts with a lecherous wiggle of her eyebrows.

"Dunno," Leah admits. "We just talked, but there's something about her that I just can't get over."

"Well yeah, she's gorgeous," Harrie says.

"No, besides all that," Leah says, wanting to be able to explain it. "It's like, even if she's beautiful or talented or smart or funny, or a million other adjectives, there's still just something else."

"Like what?" Harrie asks.

"I don't know. It's some... some je ne sais quoi that sets her apart, you know?"

"I know what you mean," Lucy says, nodding sagely. "There's just, like, one thing that you can't explain but makes her seem so special. I get it."

"You do?" Harrie asks, like she's skeptical that Lucy is being serious, which is understandable seeing as Lucy is rarely serious.

"Totally," Lucy assures Harrie. "And I know what it is too. I look for that one thing in everyone I sleep with." She looks over at Leah then, pausing just long enough for effect. "It's called a vagina."

"Ugh, Luce! Not everything is about sex!" Harrie protests, throwing a pillow at her.

"Liar!" Lucy shouts as she throws herself at Harrie.

Leah watches her roommates wrestle bemusedly.

"Right," she says, when the wrestling turns into groping. "I'll just be in my room, then."

She gathers her things and walks into her room. It's 3:30pm on a Monday and all she really wants is for it to be 2:00pm on Wednesday already. She has things to do, of course, but she leaves her bag on her desk and flops down on her bed to open her laptop.

An hour or two looking up all the new bands Zaynah has introduced her to will be an hour or two well-spent. Especially if it gives her a good conversation-starter for Wednesday.

- - -

On Wednesday, Zaynah is wearing a spaghetti-strap top and Leah tries not to stare at the tattoo that is scrawled across her collarbone.

They talk about music and Zaynah's experience at the radio station, and Leah's pretty sure she sounds like a schoolgirl with a crush, but then again she's pretty sure Zaynah does too.

During the lecture, she keeps leaning over to peak at Leah's notes and their bare arms brush together every time.

It's the best lecture ever.

- - -

Friday, Leah spends the entire lecture working up her courage to walk Zaynah to the radio building across campus. She's pretty sure she has a good opening, but as soon as Professor Cowell dismisses them, Zaynah starts throwing things into her bag and says, "Listen, I've got to run to do my air time, but do you maybe want to come with? Kind of see how it works for yourself?"

"Right, okay, yeah," Leah says, totally shocked and perhaps a little too enthusiastic.

Zaynah grins at her and then motions for her to get up so they can leave.

They walk briskly, because Zaynah only has ten minutes to get there ("It's annoying, but even as a second year I didn't exactly have my choice of time slots, you know?") and get set up.

Leah has to sign-in to get into the building while Zaynah just flashes an id, and then they are hurrying through halls and past offices and apparently this building houses a lot more than just the school radio station.

They arrive at a sound booth with two minutes to spare, and Zaynah motions for her to be silent as they sneak inside.

Nia is signing off, and she waves at Leah with a bit of a smirk on her lips. Leah watches her cue her last song, mute the mic and pull her headphones off.

"Hello, again," Nia says as Zaynah shoos her out of her seat.

"Hi," Leah says just as Zaynah warns, "Ni, behave."

"Well, that's no fun," Nia responds, still looking at Leah with an extremely mischievous glint in her eyes. "So you two are just going to hang out? Alone? In this tiny booth?"

Zaynah's hand shoots out to punch Nia in the arm, but she's smiling faintly, and Leah feels her cheeks heat and a smile tug at her lips.

"Well, I'm about to start, so you should probably go," Zaynah says pointedly.

"Uh-huh," Nia says, but she leaves with a jaunty wave and a knowing grin.

As soon as the door closes, Zaynah's eyes cut to Leah. "Sorry," she says, but she's still smiling.

Leah shrugs and watches Zaynah pull out a folding chair. She sits and motions for Leah to do the same. Their chairs are so close in the confined space that their knees brush immediately, but Zaynah doesn't shift away, so Leah doesn't either.

Niamh's last song is coming to a close as Zaynah turns to her laptop and settles a pair of oversized headphones over her ears.

She glances at Leah, and then switches the mic on. "Hey party people, it's that time again, and today we're going to change things up a bit. Get ready to dance."

Zaynah mutes the mic and hits the space bar on her laptop. Immediately, Satellite by The Wanted begins to play. Zaynah taps at her laptop briefly, before she turns to Leah.

"So that's it. Pretty magical, right?"

"What?" Leah asks. "That's it?"

"Yeah," Zaynah laughs. "I'm not really one of those people who talks too much during their air time. I used to say the song titles and artist names, but when you only have an hour I think it's just better to play music and let people look up the songs, if they want to."

"No, yeah, I really like that about your air time."

Zaynah's smile turns shy. "You listen to me?"

Leah is pretty sure her face is suddenly bright red, but she smiles through it and decides to be brave for once. "Every week."

"Cool," Zaynah says. She glances down and then back up, and Leah kind of wants to melt over how sweet she is.

Leah glances around the booth, but there's not much to look at. "So what do you usually do, just sit here?"

"Yeah. Sometimes I study. One time I fell asleep. It's more fun with someone to talk to."

"Do you bring girls here often?"

Zaynah looks at her out of the corner of her eye. "If I say 'yes' will you think less of me?"

Leah laughs. "No, I'll think you're pretty smart," she says, which makes Zaynah laugh, too.

"Alright, then, yes, I do. Inviting someone to witness the magic of the radio booth is a line I learned from Nia. She tends to get better results than I do, though."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I've never even kissed anyone in here."

The first thought that pops in Leah's head is, "You mean Nia's done more than kissing in here?" which she blurts out, only to realize that she's just blown a great transition into the subject of kissing.

"Well, she says she has," Zaynah says, laughter in her voice. Leah watches the way her eyes fold up into beautiful dark smudges against her cheekbones when she laughs, and it's possibly the loveliest thing she's ever seen.

"Wow," Leah says. She wants to say more. She wants to say something witty and flirty and to have Zaynah flirt back, but once again, her courage fails her. "So you pretty much invited me here so you wouldn't be bored?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Zaynah answers, but she's looking at Leah so intently that just her gaze alone undercuts her words. Leah's never interacted with someone with such expressive eyes, but it's almost like she can hear what Zaynah is thinking. She wants Leah to be here, not just to entertain her, and that feels good. Intense, but good.

"Right then, how shall we entertain ourselves?

They end up playing tic-tac-toe on bits of scrap paper laying around and talking about the different classes they're taking. The only time Zaynah wins a game is when Leah goes off on an enthusiastic tangent about her world music class. Zaynah carefully tears off the corner of the paper with her victory on it and tells Leah she's going to frame it.

"So you can always remember our hour together?" Leah teases.

Zaynah huffs out a laugh, but she looks Leah straight in the eye and says, "Always."

- - -

For the first time in her life, Leah can't wait for Monday. The weekend passes slowly, and Leah regrets not asking Zaynah for her phone number for every second of it.

(When Leah finally admitted to having hung out with Zaynah outside of class without exchanging numbers, Luce actually looked offended.

"Has living with me taught you nothing?" she had demanded. "The number is the key! The number makes them think you want more, so they're more willing to sleep with you the first time!"

"You need help," Harrie had mumbled around a mouth-full of pasta.)

Butterflies plague her insides for all of Monday morning. She gets to class before Zaynah but doesn't take her seat against the wall. A minute later, pale blue shorts and long, tanned legs are in her periphery.

"Hey," Leah smiles up at Zaynah, who smiles back.

"Do you mind?" Zaynah asks, gesturing to her usual seat.

"Oh, yeah, sorry," Leah says, and she tries to move her legs to the side as much as possible, but Zaynah kind of just steps over her. Leah's hands shoot out to make sure Zaynah makes it over safely, but she stops them just before they land on Zaynah's hips.

"Thanks," Zaynah says, as soon as she's sat down, and Leah just nods. "I like to sit against the wall because I feel like it protects me from any of Professor Cowell's scathing remarks."

Leah laughs and tries to spend the next hour focusing on the lecture instead of how amazing Zaynah smells.

"So," Zaynah starts as they begin to pack up after lecture, "you're done for the day, yeah?"

"Yeah," Leah answers, pleased that Zaynah seems to have remembered her schedule from their conversation on Friday.

"Have you eaten?"

Leah's heart jumps into her throat as she says, "No."

Zaynah grins at her for a second and says, "Well, I don't have class for another hour. Do you want to get something to eat?"

"Sure," Leah says, almost before Zaynah has finished her question.

They go to one of the on-campus cafes near by, order sandwiches and entertain each other with stories of their respective roommates. By the end of their meal, both are convinced that Harrie and Lucy need to meet Nia.

"They're either going to tear each other apart or start an orgy," Zaynah laughs, ruining Leah's efforts to catch her breath.

"Oh my god, you're so right," Leah gasps, wiping at her eyes.

"I wish I didn't have to go to class," Zaynah says, glancing at her watch.

"Yeah," Leah agrees, before plunging ahead with, "We should do this again on Wednesday."

"Yeah, that'd be great," Zaynah says, standing. "I'll see you on Wednesday, then."

'Ask for her number!' a voice in the back of Leah's brain that sound like Lucy screams. She does open her mouth, but Zaynah has already waved and turned the other direction.

Later, when Harrie asks where she's been, Leah makes sure to mention the follow-up lunch date and not that she still hasn't gotten Zaynah's number.

PART TWO

fic: Moments (Ziam)

berusama — Sat, 12 May 2012 09:01:53 GMT

Title: This Life, For One More Day
Pairing(s):
Rating:
Warning(s):
Disclaimer: I cannot and do not own/know/associate with/stalk the real people mentioned herein. The following is a work of fiction. No money was made in its creation.
Summary: It's the end of their world.
Author's Note:

Liam's fingers ache as he finally unclenches them from around the hilt of his sword. The peace talks had taken longer than he was expecting and if he does not get to speak to his uncle soon, he's sure he will do something drastic.

"Liam," his Uncle Simon calls, interrupting whatever Lord Byron had been saying to him, "instead of glaring from across the room, why don't you join us?"

"I would prefer to speak to you alone," Liam answers, not moving from his place in front of the retiring room.

His uncle looks at him for several moments before turning back to his remaining advisors.

"If you would excuse me," Simon says.

He receives a chorus of, 'Of course, Your Majesty's as he stands from the table and makes his way to the retiring room.

Liam waits for his uncle to be seated again before sitting on his left side. During the meeting Liam had mentally prepared a number of compelling arguments but they all seem to escape him now.

"I'm concerned about the peace treaty," he blurts out finally. When his uncle only raises an eyebrow at him, Liam continues. "I'm not sure the last term is such a good idea. In fact, I'm pretty sure it's a bad idea."

"Going to war was a bad idea," the King counters, studying his nephew. "You are in favor of peace."

It's not a question, but Liam says, "Of course," anyway.

"You drafted many of the settlement terms yourself."

"I did."

"Can you not see the wisdom in adding this final term?"

"If I saw it, we surely would not be having this discussion."

The Brontane King laughs, then, and Liam feels his as though he can breathe again. He has never seen his uncle as the king everyone else knows him to be, and it's unnerving to watch him in the role.

"It's about leverage. About having a sense of security."

And that's the part Liam just can't wrap his mind around. "How on earth is bringing a fire-speaker into our home going to give us security? Right now we have the advantage, why would we risk that by bringing one of them behind our walls?"

"His presence here will ensure that their king upholds the peace treaty. He is their only male heir."

"He is also their strongest warrior! He has never been defeated; in the Seraphim songs they say that his plaited hair touches the ground."

His uncle's eyes crinkle at the corners as he laughs. "It's not that long. See for yourself." He gestures toward a box at the side of the room and Liam is confused enough that he does not pause to think about what might be inside before opening it.

The hinges creak ominously and Liam has never seen hair so dark, except on the Seraphim. It takes a moment for him to register what he is looking at, but when it hits him, Liam almost feels sad. The hair is still plaited with red fabric and it's filthy, as though it were cut from its owner as he knelt on the battlefield. Liam thinks of all the songs and stories he's heard of the Seraphim prince and how there won't be any more.

"They sent it with their terms of surrender," his uncle says, snapping Liam out of his thoughts.

"His own people cut it off?"

"His own people would never dream of letting us do it."

Liam looks down at the mess of hair and dirt and ribbon that used to symbolize so much and thinks that, yes, he is sad. He closes the box.

"I still think him coming here is a bad idea."

"Liam, you know that the castle walls will neutralize his power."

"And what if he manages to figure out how the generators work? Our ability to silence the Seraphim is our only advantage."

The king smiles, but it looks tired. "They have no taste for technology. He will not be able to understand it on his own."

There is a pause that Liam doesn't know how to fill, but his uncle continues moments later.

"To be honest, I'm not terribly fond of the idea myself, but I have confidence that it is our best option for prolonged peace." The king rises and crosses the room to Liam, placing both hands on his nephew's shoulders. "And if having him here means that there is peace for the rest of your life, then it is what I will gladly do to make that happen."

"I understand," Liam says, covering one of his uncle's hands with his own.

His other hands remains at his side, still clenching the hilt of his sword.

- - -

"So when's the ash-mouth getting here?" Louis asks, deliberately using the derogatory term that Liam has told him to stop saying.

("It's not like he speaks Brontane!" Louis had protested every time Liam brought it up.)

"Any day now," Liam answers, hoping that if he stops calling Louis out, then maybe Louis will stop using it on his own.

"I'm kind of nervous," Louis says, like is a strange phenomenon that's never happened to him before.

"About what?" Niall says, looking up from the sword he's cleaning, "We've already beat him."

"Yeah, but he's the Seraphim prince. The ash-mouth."

Well, it was worth a shot.

"Don't call him that," Liam says distractedly, not turning away from the window.

"I'll call him what I like because he's our prisoner and he won't know what I'm saying anyway. Maybe I'll call him a cock-sucking, mother-fucker when I meet him."

"He's not a prisoner," Niall says, and really? That's the part that Niall chooses to address?

"Might as well be," Louis says sitting up enough to peer at Liam over the top of the lounger. "Don't you have guards to keep watch for you?"

Liam glances over at his friends, but can't seem to tear himself away from the window. "I just want to be prepared for when he gets here."

"Maybe he won't," Louis says, laying back down. "Maybe he's offed himself on the way."

"Yeah, right," Niall says before Liam can. "The Seraphim are too proud for suicide."

"Okay, but this guy's already lost his hair and now he's on his way to be locked up by the enemy for eternity? What else has he got to loose?"

"We're not going to lock him up," Liam says, though part of him wishes they were.

It's just... He was in those battlefields for the past three years and he knows what Seraphim warriors are capable of. He's never met the prince in battle, but he's heard the stories and he doesn't want a man like that anywhere near his people or his home.

Louis is going on about the different ways they could potentially neutralize a Seraphim warrior -- should, goddess forbid, the generators fail -- while Niall debunks them all with simple logic ("We could throw him in the lake!" "With what? An extra-long pair of fire tongs?"), when Liam finally sees it.

It's just a glimmer on the horizon, but after another ten minutes the glimmer definitely turns into moving shapes and that has to be him.

Normally Liam has unending stores of patience -- one must, if one is to be friends with Louis Tomlinson -- but right now he just wants to know what is taking so long. He's sitting in the throne room with his aunt and uncle, waiting for the guards to finish searching the belongings that the prince has brought with him and if they don't hurry up, Liam's liable to storm into the entrance hall and do the job himself.

Finally, the doors swing open and though Liam had watched the prince's progress toward the castle until he was nearly at the gates, he's not prepared for the sheer number of people who enter the throne room.

It seems as though the entire Seraphim kingdom has made the journey to see their prince off.

Except, all of these people are dressed the same and Liam realizes far too late that these men and women must be the Seraphim royal guard. He panics for all of two seconds before remembering that there are just as many of his own royal guard in the room.

Once everyone has entered and a hush has fallen over the room, Liam's uncle stands and descends the steps from his throne. Almost simultaneously, the Seraphim royal guard parts to reveal a young curly-haired boy who looks to be about Liam's age.

"Your Highness," says the boy, and though he is dressed in traditional Seraphim clothing, there is no trace of an accent that Liam has always associated with Seraphim speaking Brontane. "I'm Harry Styles. His Majesty wrote of me in the final negotiation of terms."

"I know who you are," the king says, and Liam is surprised at the gentle tone of his voice. "Where is the prince?"

The boy -- Harry, he had called himself -- speaks something in Seraphim and again the guard parts to reveal another young man.

Had Liam not already been sitting, he thinks that he may have chosen to do so at this moment.

The prince is stunning, and Liam has trouble consolidating the image he had built of the Seraphim prince in his mind with the image being presented to him now. He is too thin, too short, too beautiful to be the fierce warrior Liam had been expecting. Liam tries to picture him with long hair, but can't focus on anything past the boy's graceful neck and shoulders. He's dressed for a Seraphim spring, not a Brontane one.

'He must be cold,' Liam thinks, but then mentally shakes himself.

He doesn't care if the Seraphim prince is cold. All he cares about is how quickly he can kill him if he tries to burn them from the inside out.

His uncle finishes speaking with Harry and turns to walk back to his throne. Liam's hand flies to his sword at the sight of his uncle presenting his back to the enemy. The king catches his eye as he goes to sit and Liam relaxes slightly.

Harry turns to the guard and speaks to them briefly in Seraphim. They turn as one to face their prince, kneel, and then they are back on their feet and marching out of the throne room.

Soon only Harry and the prince remain.

"Liam," the king says after several uncomfortable moments of silence. "Please escort Harry and Prince Zayn to their rooms."

Zayn.

Liam isn't sure what to think about a name like that, but he knows instantly that it's one he'll never forget. As he stands and makes his way towards the two young men, he can't help but wonder if the prince knew his name before his uncle had addressed him just now. The Brontane aren't as superstitious about names as the Seraphim, and Liam knows there are more than a few stories out there that feature him and his achievements in battle.

Several guardsmen have fallen into step behind Liam by the time he reaches the middle of the throne room and the look Harry gives him is slightly amused. Liam arches an eyebrow at him and the other boy looks like he's trying not to smile. Liam's not sure what to make of that.

He cuts his eyes to the prince, who is still standing several paces back, and rational thought once again escapes him. Zayn is looking straight back at him, direct eye-contact, and his eyes... His eyes are mesmerizing and so very expressive.

They are beauty and misery and anger, and they promise things Liam can't even imagine.

"This way," Liam says, not breaking eye-contact until he has walked past the prince. He leads them through the hallways, down and in, to the center of the castle where the effect of the generators is the strongest, and where any attempted explosion would simply be buried by the rubble it created.

Harry gives him another disconcerting look after ushering his prince and their belongings into their new rooms, and then he closes the door in Liam's face.

Liam blinks at the wood and then turns to face the men behind him.

"You know the drill," he says lowly. The first shift moves into place without a word. "I want to know everything."

"Yes, sir," his men reply, but their confidence does nothing to settle the uneasy feeling that sits across his shoulders.

- - -

"How do you feel?" Harry asks.

Zayn can't even imagine trying to answer that question right now.

"Cold," he says to at least give Harry an answer.

"Yeah, me too," Harry says and goes straight to their bags to, presumably, look for something to remedy that.

Zayn glances around the room they are in, but the architecture is so foreign and ugly, it only makes him feel worse. There is a long cushioned seat against the far wall and Zayn goes to it. The fact that it is surprisingly soft is of little comfort.

"We should both rest," Harry says, crossing the room with a winter cloak draped over his arm.

Zayn nods and does not protest when Harry climbs onto the seat behind him. He curls around Zayn and drapes the cloak over both their bodies.

"Sleep now," Harry whispers, and normally that is all the encouragement Zayn needs. Today, however, is not a normal day.

Today he has been traded to the enemy in exchange for the promise of peace, all because the brutes have managed to build a power-source of their own. Zayn can feel it at work now, somehow sapping the fire straight from his body. He wonders if it will kill him, eventually.

Harry's arm tightens around his waist and Zayn pushes the thought from his mind. Seraphim warriors do not pity themselves. They accept what is and move forward from there.

He has Harry and he has his health. As long as he is here, his family is safe. His people will rebuild their cities and their lives and that is all he wants, even if he must sacrifice his own life to ensure it.

The tearful faces of his family members swarm into his mind, and Zayn thinks that grief is different from pity. He is allowed to grieve for what he has lost.

So in the dark, cold depths of a foreign city, wrapped in the arms of his best friend, Zayn closes his eyes and grieves.

- - -

Liam hardly sleeps at all. Every sound has him sitting up in his bed, straining his ears to make out the sounds of a potential attack.

When sunlight begins to filter in through his windows, Liam gives it up as a lost hope and gets out of bed. He makes his way down into the center of the castle where the guard has already changed.

"Anything?" he asks, but they have no news for him; the foreigners haven't made a sound.

Liam goes to the kitchens and prepares their breakfast himself. Fruit, porridge, bread. Liam wonders briefly if it will be to their liking, but then reminds himself that he doesn't care.

When he bolts the sliding hatch closed again after sliding their tray of food through, Niall's words from the day before come back to him.

He's not a prisoner.

In theory, the Seraphim prince is not their prisoner. He is their ward, or some such diplomatic term. Liam stares at the door, straining to hear any sounds from within. He hears none.

Back in his rooms, Liam tries to read a book, anything to keep his mind from wandering back down to the lower levels, but it's no use. He feels anxious and strangely guilty, but also justified in his actions. He has a duty to protect his people and until he determines the amount of danger the Seraphim prince poses, it is not wrong to keep him locked up.

He decides, then, that he will speak to the prince today and chose a plan of action from there.

- - -

"When will you leave?" Zayn asks when morning comes. At least, they assume it is morning, but it's difficult to tell without windows to judge by.

They are sitting where they slept -- or tried to sleep -- poking at foreign food that had been waiting for them upon waking.

"Leave?" Harry asks, looking up from where he had been inspecting his next bite.

"You're home now." Zayn says, tries to state it as the fact it is. "I don't expect you to stay with me."

Harry looks at him for several moments. "Where would I go?"

"You have family-"

"They think I'm dead," Harry cuts him off. He's looking at Zayn with furrowed brows now, lips parted like he's about to ask a question. It never comes. Instead Harry looks down, moves their food to the floor, and turns towards Zayn so their knees overlap. "Did your father tell you why he sent me with you?"

"To ensure my safety, I assumed."

Harry smiles because they both know how useless he is when it comes to defending himself or others.

"Before you left, he asked me to meet him in the gardens. And he told me that even though it would feel like he was losing two sons, he wanted me to go with you. Told me that he trusts me with your life and that if there was anyone who could keep you sane in the belly of the beast, it was me."

Zayn's eyes sting as he tries not to blink, because the the movement will surely cause his tears to fall. Zayn can count on one hand the number of times he has cried in his life, but his fathers words, even second-hand, proving that he loves his son... Zayn is powerless to stop the tears. Harry's eyes look similarly wet.

"I always knew you were his favorite," Zayn says eventually.

Harry grins at him. He wipes at his eyes and then reaches out and swipes a thumb across both of Zayn's.

"It's because of my Seraphim good-looks," Harry reminds him, and old joke between them that never seems to get old.

"Yes. You will be in high demand here," Zayn agrees with the barest hint of a smile; his first in days.

- - -

Liam makes himself wait until mid-day before heading back down to the prince's rooms.

He knocks on the door, and immediately feels like an idiot because 1: there's no way the prince could even answer the locked door, and 2: he's in control here, he should just enter the room.

Liam unlocks the door and opens it to the sight of the boy -- Harry, Liam reminds himself -- half buried in one of their trunks, clothes flung about the room. The prince is sitting at the far end of the room, eyes now trained on Liam who feels the need to look away.

"What are you doing?" Liam asks. He hadn't, he realizes suddenly, prepared anything to say in all the time he had spent planning to come down here.

"Looking for this," Harry answers, holding up a bright red scarf. He straightens and walks to the prince, handing him the scarf before turning back to Liam. "Is there something you need, my lord?"

Liam's eyebrows swoop down at the formality, but he quickly regains his composure. "Yes. I would like to speak to the prince concerning his continued stay in the castle."

Harry glances back at his prince who responds with a few quick words spoken in Seraphim. Harry looks confused, but when the prince merely raises his eyebrows at the boy, he turns back to Liam and says, "I would be pleased to translate for you, my lord."

Liam nods and almost suggests they move to a more comfortable, less depressing room, but he knows that this is the safest place to be in the castle, for now.

"Thank you," he says to Harry and brings two chairs over to where the prince is sitting.

Once he and Harry are seated, Liam leans forward on his elbows and tries to form his thoughts into actual sentences as he studies his clasped hands.

"I suppose what I want to say first is that I appreciate your sacrifice for the sake of peace."

Liam looks up at Zayn who is staring back blankly, then glances over at Harry. Harry seems to jump a little before speaking in Seraphim to his prince.

Liam has always secretly liked the sound of Seraphim speech with it's soft vowels and rolling consonants. Harry seems to be saying a lot for just the one simple sentence Liam wanted him to translate, but then Zayn begins speaking and his voice...

His voice matches his appearance, which is to say that it is beautiful, and not at all what Liam had been expecting. He speaks low and slowly, like he is choosing his words carefully, something else Liam can appreciate.

Harry turns back to him and says, "His highness acknowledges your appreciation and says that forfeiting his life for the lives of his people was an easy choice to make."

Liam's stomach drops. "Forfeiting? I don't know what kind of impression your prince is operating under, but no harm will come to him here. We will uphold our end of the treaty terms."

Zayn speaks then, but Harry nods without looking at him, and Zayn falls quiet.

"Forgive me, my lord, I merely meant that his life as a free man of Seraphim has ended. That life has been forfeited for peace."

Liam can feel the realization of this settle onto him. It feels heavy and oppressive and it whispers this is your fault.

I agreed to this for peace, Liam reminds himself, and pulls up the anger he has toward the Seraphim as a shield.

"Very well. I'm pleased to hear that the prince is prepared to uphold the treaty, as we are. Per the treaty, he is not our prisoner and will not be expected to remain in this room. There are more rooms several floors up that have been prepared for the both of you. Also per the treaty, the prince may not leave the castle walls. For the time being, I will be accompanying the prince in his day-to-day activities."

Again, Harry does not begin translating right away, and Liam worries that he spoke too much for the boy to remember.

When he finally begins, Liam watches Zayn's face, but he betrays none of the thoughts or emotions he is experiencing. He is watching the stone floor, and remains with his gaze turned down after Harry finishes.

Zayn speaks briefly to Harry, but instead of translating, Harry replies in Seraphim.

After hearing whatever Harry had said, Zayn sits up straight in his chair and nods.

"He understands?" Liam asks Harry.

"Yes," Harry replies.

"Alright." Liam stands. "I will show you to your new rooms."

They stand, but instead of following Liam to the door, Zayn picks up the red scarf that had been laying in his lap and wraps it around his head and neck. Liam's heart begins to hammer in his chest. In less than ten seconds, Zayn has transformed himself into a Seraphim warrior: dark eyes and the dark intent in them all that is visible.

Harry picks up an orange scarf from the ground and wraps it around his neck. He leaves his hair uncovered.

When they appear to be ready, Liam opens the door and nods at his men to stand down.

Liam leads them up three sets of stairs and down many halls, taking a round-about route with the hopes of giving them the impression that this castle is massive and inescapable. Finally he stops in front of a door with no lock and pushes it open.

The quality of these rooms is much higher, and the front room even has a few windows. Liam catches Harry's smile as he walks by, though Zayn's face is still impassive.

"Will our things be brought up?" Harry asks after opening an empty wardrobe.

"Yes, I'm sure someone is picking everything up now." This earns him a short burst of laughter from Harry, who then receives a glare from Zayn.

Zayn speaks something to Harry, then, and Harry says, "We're still exhausted from the journey," his lips curl a little, "if we rest, will you accompany us in sleep?"

Liam balks at Harry's words before he realizes that he's being teased.

"No," Liam stutters, "but I will be across the hall."

"Very well," Harry says, effectively dismissing Liam, and Liam can't help but wonder who is actually in charge here.

Liam goes out into the hall and then walks to his own door, immediately across. He props the door open, and moves a chair so that he can see the prince's door.

It's strange to be essentially guarding a sleeping person, but it is what he promised his uncle and Liam is nothing if not a man of his word.

Still, he feels silly and a little bit worried that this may be his life now: babysitting a mischievous curly-haired boy and his prince.

- - -

"So," Harry says as soon as the door is closed behind them. "Want to tell me what all that was about?"

"All what?" Zayn asks, feigning innocence though he knows Harry will see through it.

"All that translating you made me do," Harry answers with a smirk.

Zayn pulls the scarf from around his head, but leaves it around his neck; these rooms are just as cold as the ones below.

"A perceived language barrier is the only advantage I have right now," Zayn answers eventually. He turns towards the bed, hoping Harry won't press further.

Harry comes up behind him to help spread the folded blankets left for them. "But why do you need an advantage if you're both going to hold up each side of the treaty?"

"Because the treaty only promises my life, not the quality of it," Zayn says.

Harry stops unfolding the blanket he's holding. "You don't trust them."

"No," Zayn answers, pulling the blanket from Harry's grasp and throwing it on the bed. "And neither should you."

Harry climbs onto the bed and says, "Liam seems nice enough."

"The Fury of Brontane?" Zayn asks, incredulously. "Nice?"

Harry shrugs. "Dunno. I thought so."

"Maybe it's because you're not the enemy," Zayn says as he climbs onto the bed with Harry.

"Excuse me?" Harry says, shoving at Zayn's shoulder. "I'm just as much the enemy as you are. Maybe it's because I'm not looking for a reason to hate him."

"I don't need to look for a reason! But I don't expect you to understand. You didn't exactly lose your family in all this, did you?" Zayn snaps. He immediately wants to take it back, but it's too late; the hurt is already carved into Harry's expression.

"No," Harry says lowly. "I lost them years ago."

Zayn wants to say something about being free to go to them now, but he holds the words back.

"I'm sorry," he says instead.

Harry stares at him long and hard. "Are you trying to make me angry?" he asks eventually.

"No," Zayn says, eyes dropping to his lap. "I don't know. Maybe. I just-"

"You just what?" Harry asks after several seconds.

"I just keep waiting to wake up and every time I realize I'm not going to..." Zayn pauses, trying to summon the words to explain, but he's not used to describing his emotions. He doesn't know if feeling rage and helplessness and regret and such a deep sorrow that he swears his heart is about to implode... he doesn't know if feeling all those things at once is normal, so he keeps quiet and lets Harry think what he will.

"My first night in the palace," Harry says, his eyes distant, "your mother came and talked to me. She said that life is change and that even though change can hurt, it's never bad."

Zayn's eyes drift back down to the blankets as he imagines his mother sitting next to an eight-year-old Harry and imparting her wisdom.

"I don't remember much else about the queen, but I remember that night like it was yesterday. She was very beautiful."

"I know," Zayn whispers.

And everything is not fixed -- he knows Harry will be wary around him for awhile and that these emotions will not calm -- but right now Zayn feels muted, like his mothers words have settled over him like a filter, keeping the harshness of the world at bay. It's not a good feeling, but it helps him fall asleep.

Harry's hand rubbing soothing circles on his back helps too.

- - -

fic: Everything About You (Ziam)

berusama — Sat, 05 May 2012 12:04:34 GMT

Title: Let Them Say What They Want
Pairing(s): Liam/Zayn
Rating: PG-13
Warning(s): n/a
Disclaimer: I cannot and do not own/know/associate with/stalk the real people mentioned herein. The following is a work of fiction. No money was made in its creation.
Summary: Zayn worries that he is going to screw up his relationship with Liam before it can really even begin.
Author's Note: part of my Up All Night, Ziam Edition master plan. this is the fill for Everything About You.
AN2: if you're in the beta business and interested, let me know. i'm terrible at finding my own mistakes.

Zayn and Liam have been dating for a grand total of four days when the thought first occurs to Zayn.

It doesn't happen sooner because the first three days they have off, and those days are unending bliss, filled only with room service, bad daytime television, cat naps, and each others' tongues.

Day four dawns bright and early, however, and being in public with Liam is a lot different now that they've managed to sort everything out between them. (And hadn't that been fun, having a year's worth of tension and angst freeze in his veins as Liam told him that he had broken up with Danielle the week prior.

"You okay?" Zayn had asked cautiously, both concern and relief simmering just below his heart.

"Yeah," Liam had answered, strangely intense. "I just... I hope I'm not wrong about this."

"About what?" Zayn asked, voice hushed as he watched Liam walk towards him and cup the back of his neck.

Liam leaned in slowly and breathed, "Uh," across Zayn's lips before sealing their mouths together.

The next three days, Zayn thinks later -- post-orgasm and understandably hyperbolic -- are the happiest of his life.)

But now that they're back outside the hotel where the air doesn't smell like sex and all anyone seems to do is scream at the sight of him, everything feels different. He feels different.

He's hyper-aware of every movement Liam makes, and considering how aware he was of Liam prior to all this, it's starting to border on sixth-sense ridiculousness.

They're in the van, on their way to their first interview of the day when Liam glances over at Zayn and curls two fingers around Zayn's pinky finger. Their thighs are pressed flush together and Zayn takes a moment to just breathe before inching his hand from his own leg onto Liam's.

Slowly, Liam turns Zayn's hand over and laces their fingers together and it's so weird because nothing else has changed. The van still smells like stale food and too many different colognes, Louis is (loudly) trying to play both Niall and Harry at thumb war, and they are on their way to do a radio show where they'll be asked the same six questions as always, but here Liam is, drawing circles at the base of Zayn's thumb and, actually, everything has changed.

Inside the radio booth, Liam and Zayn sit next to each other. 'Normal,' Zayn decides to himself. Sitting next to Liam is normal.

Is it normal for him to sit this close, though? Zayn always used to feel a little guilty when he would crowd Liam's space before, like maybe he didn't have the right to be there.

But now he totally does. Right?

Or is it too much now? Is it written all over his face that being this close to Liam right now just makes him think about last night when they had been laying even closer in bed?

Zayn watches Liam out of the corner of his eye as he and Louis joke with the interviewer. He looks normal, not awkward like Zayn feels.

'Okay, then,' Zayn decides. If he can't trust himself to act normally, then he will just do what Liam does. He knows that he can trust Liam to do what's best for everyone.

- - -

Something is off.

Which is weird, because at the same time everything is so brilliant right now. The butterflies he's used to living with by now have transformed into something else entirely and every time he catches Zayn's eye, it kind of feels like he's about to throw up.

But in a good way.

And every time he lets his mind wander, it immediately goes to the last time he and Zayn kissed, or the next time they might kiss. If he's alone, he lets himself think about the other stuff. The touching and rubbing, the way Zayn pulls at him and presses up against him and asks him to do things that still make Liam blush days later.

Things are so perfect that Liam isn't able to put is finger on what's wrong for about a week.

When he does, he wonders if he should say anything, or if it's just a natural progression in their relationship.

Except it's just weird, now that he's realized what it is.

He's sitting next to Zayn, crammed into a space that is really not meant to seat five young men, and yet Zayn is hardly touching him. Which is maybe for the best because the last time Liam was perched above Zayn on the arm of a couch like this, he ended up with a lap-full as Zayn lounged back against him for half the interview.

Liam's pretty sure that Zayn in his lap right now would only end in awkwardness for everyone.

Still, this isn't the first time in the past two weeks where Zayn has avoided situations that he normally wouldn't have thought twice about launching himself into. Literally. Liam can't remember the last time Zayn threw himself across Liam in public.

He considers initiating something himself -- maybe a hand to the back of Zayn's neck -- but then Niall is deflecting a question his way and he settles for a hand on the back of the couch instead.

That night, after three more interviews and a signing/mini-performance, Liam decides to bring it up as casually as possible.

"Can I ask you something?"

Zayn looks away from the mirror and raises an eyebrow at Liam because, yeah, he's brushing his teeth right now, but he gestures for Liam to go ahead anyway.

Liam smiles, and decides to forget casual. "Are you avoiding touching me in public because you're afraid someone will figure out there's something going on between us?"

Zayn's face changes, but Liam can't tell what it means. He waits for Zayn to finish brushing -- which definitely takes longer than usual -- and spitting and rinsing his mouth and okay, he is totally stalling.

Liam walks into the bathroom and nudges his hip against Zayn's, watching the other boy in the mirror.

"Not exactly," Zayn says finally.

Liam runs the backs of his fingers down Zayn's arm and waits.

"I just... I felt like I didn't know how to act around you all of a sudden. Like what was too much. Or what you would be comfortable with. So I decided to just do what you did. And you, well you don't really touch me as much as I used to touch you, so..."

"Zayn," Liam whispers, and Zayn turns to face him without resistance. He feels like his heart is too full, or maybe not full enough. "Please don't change anything about yourself or how you act around me. The way you touch and interact with people is something I love about you. I love you exactly the way you are; I think you're perfect. Just, everything about you is perfect. Everything."

Zayn is looking down at his hands which have come up between them and fisted in the front of Liam's t-shirt. When he hears Zayn swallow audibly, Liam tips the other boy's chin up gently.

"Okay?"

Zayn nods and swallows again. "Yeah, it's just a lot, yeah?"

"Too much?"

"No," Zayn says, quickly, tugging Liam a little bit closer, "no, I just... I love you so much, I'm in love with you 'cause you're what I've always wanted and I don't know what I would do without you."

Liam wraps his arms around Zayn's shoulders and squeezes as Zayn wraps his arms around Liam's waist.

They stand pressed together for several moments, just breathing.

"So we're in agreement, then?" Liam asks eventually.

"About what," Zayn asks without bothering to move his face from the crook of Liam's neck.

"That we'd both feel better if you go back to acting how you always act around me in public."

Zayn laughs and does pull back, then. "Poor Liam, were you worried I didn't want you anymore?"

"Yeah, right," Liam teases back, "Like you could ever resist all this."

Zayn's face does that new thing where he looks shy and like he wants to climb into Liam's lap for a cuddle, but then also like maybe he wants to snog Liam senseless.

Liam's learned that the best thing to do when Zayn makes that face is to be bold enough for the both of them, so he leans in a captures Zayn's lips with his own.

Zayn opens his mouth immediately, and the next thing he knows, Zayn is up on the bathroom counter, legs spread wide for Liam's hips.

Liam pulls Zayn as close to him as possible, as close as two bodies can be, but it's still not enough, so he pulls again and lifts, and luckily Zayn's arms were already around his neck so that all he has to do is lock his legs around Liam's waist.

"Liam!" Zayn protests, laughing as Liam propels them out of the bathroom and onto the nearest bed. They fall on their sides, still entwined, and Zayn is laughing, but also punching him in the arm. "You could've hurt yourself."

"Nah," Liam says, rolling them so that he's braced above his boyfriend. He tries to take in all of how Zayn looks now, because he knows from past experience that he doesn't have long to stare.

Sure enough, Zayn punches him again after only a few seconds. "What're you looking at?"

"Everything," Liam answers.

Zayn rolls his eyes to distract Liam from the blush that colors his cheeks, and pulls Liam back into his arms.

- - -

The next morning, Liam feels like he is on top of the world. Everything is brilliant and he is worried about nothing.

When Zayn walks into the hotel restaurant, Liam's stomach clenches and his heart picks up, and he wonders for how much longer will that happen?

"Morning," Zayn greets everyone when he's reached their table, because he is the last one to breakfast. He's greeted by a chorus of 'good morning's in return, and as Zayn sits down next to him, Liam feels like he can't quite handle how awesome his life is.

Then Zayn leans over and smacks a kiss onto the side of his face before stealing a piece of Liam's toast, and it's like Liam's blood can't decide whether to rush to his face or between his legs.

Right. Well. He did ask Zayn to act normal again.

Liam takes another piece of toast from the center of the table and inches his foot over until his shoe is pressed against Zayn's. Really, he wouldn't want things any other way.

fic: What Makes You Beautiful (Up All Night, Ziam Edition)

berusama — Fri, 04 May 2012 12:35:34 GMT

Title: Baby, You Light Up My World
Pairing: Ziam
Rating: R
Warning(s): beard!Danielle
Disclaimer: I cannot and do not own/know/associate with/stalk the real people mentioned herein. The following is a work of fiction. No money was made in its creation.
Summary: Zayn doesn't know he's ~~beautiful~~ fucking hot.
AN: beta'd by ingeneva, who i am now in love with. any remaining mistakes are my own.

Liam hadn't really thought through what 'teaching Zayn to dance' was going to entail before he had agreed to it. To be honest, he hadn't really been thinking anything past the ridiculous surge of satisfaction and excitement at the idea of Zayn asking him for a private, personal favor.

"'Cause there's a dance room in the hotel and I thought maybe..." Zayn had trailed off, looking embarrassed and vulnerable, and how could Liam possible have said no?

But now here they are, standing in the middle of the hotel dance studio in the middle of the night -- because Zayn hadn't wanted to risk anyone seeing them -- and Liam has no idea how to start.

"Well, I guess we can start with what you do know," he suggests, but Zayn just looks at him blankly.

"If I knew any moves I wouldn't be asking for lessons; I'd just do that one move for the rest of my life."

Liam laughs, and it seems to loosen Zayn up a bit. At least he starts smiling.

"Okay," Liam says slowly, trying to think of the most basic thing about dancing, of the one thing every dancer needs to be able to do. "Maybe the first thing we should work on is rhythm?"

"Haven't got any," Zayn laughs.

"You do when you sing," Liam points out.

Zayn scoffs. "That's different."

"How?" Liam challenges, and he is beginning to think that he has an actual idea. "Wait here."

"What? No," Zayn protests, promptly following Liam out of the studio.

"I'm coming back," Liam laughs, but Zayn ignores him and together they walk through the hotel to the lounge.

Liam spots what he needs and goes to the receptionist behind the counter.

"Excuse me," he says in his politest tone. The gentleman looks up. "Do you think we could borrow that metronome for a bit?" he asks, pointing to the device sitting on top of the lobby piano. When the man doesn’t respond, Liam adds, "We're guests here.”

And either the man recognizes them or he just doesn't care about the rarity of metronomes these days, because he acquiesces eventually.

Both Liam and Zayn thank the man before grabbing the thing and hurrying back to the dance studio.

"Alright," Liam says once he has Zayn back in the middle of the room and the metronome ticking out a steady beat. "So all dance moves are done to a beat, right? And it could be like really obvious, like when you sing a ballad, or it could be all jumbled together, kind of like jazz, but even jazz is played to an underlying beat. So I guess maybe you just have to know what beat you're moving to, and then plan accordingly.”

"Okay," Zayn says, but he doesn’t sound too sure and his mouth is beginning to turn down at the corners.

"For example," Liam says, quickly, "Louis' 'Stop the traffic, let the people go' move is really simple, right? But it only looks good if you're hitting the moves on the beat. So the same could be said for really complex moves. Like this."

Liam glides smoothly around in a circle, and when he's facing Zayn again, Zayn has this pained look on his face.

"But what does timing have to do with it if I can't even do the moves?"

"I can teach you how to do the moves," Liam says, because he's pretty sure if he can teach himself, he can teach Zayn, "but just being able to move around doesn't make you a good dancer. Being able to embody a song through your moves makes you a good dancer, and you already know how to embody a song because you know how to sing. And singing is about the notes, yeah, but it's also about tempo."

"So," Zayn says slowly, and it looks like he's trying not to smile, "you're saying that because I can sing, I can dance?"

Liam tries to hide his answering smile behind a grimace. "Shut it. You know that made sense on some level."

"Whatever, come on," Zayn says, grinning at Liam and shaking his limbs out impatiently. "Show me how to do that thing."

They spend the next hour chanting 'heel, toe, heel, toe' as Liam demonstrates again and again, trying his best to articulate what he's doing with his feet, until Zayn can kind of glide in an arc, if not in a full circle.

When Zayn is able to do it on his own without stuttering to a stop half-way through, Liam jumps him with a hug and then does a sort of spontaneous robot/Michael Jackson/body roll/smash up that makes Zayn say, "Next time you're teaching me how to do that."

“Alright,” Liam agrees quickly, because even though Zayn kept threatening to quit, teaching him was fun. There’s something about being able to explain something effectively that Liam finds very satisfying. He wonders, sometimes, if he should have been a teacher.

He watches Zayn glide on his own, and even though he’s not doing it perfectly, he still looks good. Zayn may not realize it, but he does have a natural grace that Liam finds himself appreciating more and more often.

“Alright?” Zayn asks when he catches Liam staring.

“Yeah,” Liam says, smiling, “just tired.”

“Me too. Should we take this back?” Zayn asks, gesturing to the metronome. Liam nods.

On their way back to the lobby, they joke about hiding the metronome in one of the other boys' rooms while it's still ticking. They don't, of course -- mostly because Liam would never risk crossing the receptionists by not returning it -- but it's enough for a good laugh.

Back in their room, they take turns using the bathroom and then climb into their beds.

"Liam," Zayn says after he's turned out the lights.

"Yeah?" Liam answers, even though he has to work at making his mouth form the words because he’s already drifting off.

"Thanks for not, you know... laughing at me."

Liam’s exhaustion seems to slip away for a moment, and he leans up on one elbow. "Hey," he says, even though he can't really see Zayn in the dark, "no worries. You're my best mate."

There's a brief pause, and then Zayn says, "You're mine too," and Liam doesn’t have to see him to know he’s smiling.

- - -

They have a second lesson in the hotel, but it's another three nights before they are awake and energetic enough to try again. There isn't a dance room in their next hotel, so they practice in their room instead, watching instructional videos on YouTube and trying to learn ridiculous dances, like the Charleston.

"I've got it!" Zayn says, but he so doesn't, and Liam falls to the floor laughing.

Zayn keeps dancing, grinning down at Liam ridiculously, and Liam gets the sudden urge to wrap his arms around Zayn and squeeze. He starts to get back up, but then someone knocks rapidly on the door, and Liam goes to answer it instead.

"What's up?" he asks; the other boys push past him as soon as he opens the door.

"We heard music," Harry says.

"And laughter," Louis adds. "You two know that no one's allowed to laugh without me present."

"So sorry," Zayn laughs, pausing the video on his laptop.

"What are you two doing?" Niall asks, sitting himself on Zayn's bed.

Liam looks to Zayn, who simply shrugs a shoulder, so Liam answers, "Dancing."

"But," Louis starts, as though he is genuinely confused, "Zayn can't dance."

Zayn shoves his shoulder, and Louis goes flying onto Liam's bed. "S'why he's teaching me, you arse."

"Dance lessons?!" Harry cheers, clapping his hands and sitting down next to Niall. "Let's have a performance, then!"

"No, guys," Zayn starts, but he is met by a chorus of "awww" and "come on," and Louis begins chanting his name. The others join in. Zayn cuts his eyes to Liam, and he can tell Zayn is uncomfortable, but if he can't dance in front of his four best friends, then who will he ever be able to dance in front of? Liam gives Zayn a small smile that he hopes is reassuring.

"Ugh, fine," Zayn says, and he promptly does a complicated glide and isolation move they have been working on.

The other cheer and Zayn blushes, but Liam says, "Oh my god." It comes out louder and slightly more accusatory than he meant.

"What?" Zayn asks.

"It's you! It's not your tempo at all, it's you! When you're nervous, you speed up your moves!"

"What?" Zayn says again, echoed by the other three.

"When we first started, I thought we had to work on your rhythm, because you weren't dancing on tempo, but it's not about your ability to find the beat. You just speed everything up when you're nervous. You do it when you sing too."

"I do?" Zayn asks, and he looks kind of horrified.

"Well, not anymore," Liam assures, moving towards him and touching his elbow. "But before. During The X Factor. But now you’re so confident in your voice it never happens."

"So what you're saying," Louis interjects, "is that Monsieur Malik needs more confidence in himself?"

"In his dancing," Liam corrects, even though he's sure everyone knew that's what he meant.

"How're you going to do that?" Niall asks.

Liam looks to Zayn who is looking back, wide-eyed and hopeful.

"Not sure yet," he says, but he squeezes Zayn's shoulder. He'll figure it out eventually.

- - -

"So," Liam says, three weeks later, "I was thinking that we could practice some dance moves that you don't feel very comfortable doing."

Zayn makes a face.

"Practice makes perfect," Liam says, even though he knows Zayn is sick of hearing that.

"I liked learning new moves," Zayn protests.

Liam nods. "Yeah, and we can keep doing that too, but there are some things you don't like to do that you're going to need to get comfortable with eventually."

"Like what?" Zayn challenges. Liam can see Zayn’s stubbornness coming out in the way his eyes narrow and tips his chin up.

"Well," Liam says, trying to suppress a smile. "You don't like to do anything sexy."

"What?" Zayn demands, and he doesn’t look stubborn any more. Now he looks surprised, which, in Liam’s experience, is not an easy expression to elicit from him. "You can't say that! Dancing is sexy all together!"

Liam laughs. "And do you like to dance, Zayn?"

Zayn glares, but doesn’t say anything else.

"It's not a bad thing." Liam says gently, not actually wanting to upset Zayn. "You're just more of the 'smoldering' type than the 'sex in your face' type."

Zayn arches an eyebrow. "Sex in your face?"

"You know what I mean," Liam laughs, "I just think that until you get comfortable moving your body in certain ways, you're always going to be afraid of moving it at all."

Zayn crosses his arms, looking down at the ground, and Liam knows that Zayn knows he’s right. Sometimes Liam wonders if it’s normal to know another person the way he knows Zayn. Most times he assumes it’s not normal, that he and Zayn have a special bond, because if feeling this way about someone were normal, he’s pretty sure the world would be a better place.

"Fine, professor," Zayn concedes eventually. He drops his arms to his sides and spreads his hands out in a 'go on' sort of gesture.

"Right," Liam says, cutting his thoughts short. He turns away from Zayn to face the dance studio mirror. "'Sexy' is all in the hips. You have to be fluid and not afraid to exaggerate your movements."

They try a few basic pelvic thrusts and gyrations, but Zayn starts laughing and then keeps laughing as he tries to mimic Liam’s movements.

"Stop, stop," Liam laughs, grabbing at Zayn's arms and then hips as he makes exaggerated hula-hoop movements. "Don't move your upper body at all."

Liam moves to stand behind Zayn, hands still on his hips.

"All you're going to move," Liam says, "are your hips and your knees. Maybe your feet. Okay?"

"Easy for you to say," Zayn shoots back, but there's laughter in his voice.

Liam grins at him in the mirror and then rolls his own hips, trying to force Zayn to do the same with his hands. It doesn’t really work. Zayn is so tense, Liam would be surprised if he could move at all.

"Relax," Liam urges, stepping close enough to Zayn that he can feel his body heat.

When Liam pushes again, Zayn's whole body rocks in a circle.

"No, it's like everything from here up is frozen," Liam explains, placing his palm against Zayn's lower back. "Arch your back."

Zayn’s spine barely shifts, so he pushes with his palm and says, “More.”

Zayn huffs out a breath and actually arches his back.

"Okay,” Liam says, “now just kind of shift your hips to the left. Just your hips."

Liam settles his other hand just below Zayn’s ribs to make sure his torso doesn’t move as he circles his hips forward and then to the right.

When Zayn’s hips shift back to center, Liam asks, "Did you feel the difference?"

"Um, yeah?" Zayn asks, and Liam laughs.

“Try adding your knees this time. When you shift your hips to the left, bend your left knee a little.”

Liam moves his hands back to Zayn's hips and pushes them through the circle again. But he’s watching Zayn in the mirror and doesn’t realize how closely he’s standing until Zayn’s hips shift backwards and into Liam’s. Liam can feel the immediate burn across his cheekbones, but it doesn't really concern him because they fit. They fit together like there was never any space between them and... it's nice.

“Hm?” Liam says when he realizes Zayn has been speaking.

“Sorry,” Zayn repeats, watching Liam in the mirror.

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” Liam says quickly. He finally steps back from Zayn’s warmth.

"So, uh, once you get that, you can add in the rest of your body.” Zayn is still watching him, but then he nods, like he wants Liam to go on. “I guess the key is just to remember that when you're rolling your body, you only want certain parts moving at a time."

"Like isolations?" Zayn asks.

Liam nods. "Right, but more fluid. Like when you roll your body, you don't really stop. The movement should roll down your body one section at a time."

At Zayn's confused look, Liam steps out from behind him and demonstrates a body roll.

"See? It starts with my shoulders, and then moves down from there." He demonstrates again in slow motion. "You try."

Liam watches Zayn look down and sort of grimace at the floor, and instantly all of his suspicions are confirmed. "See, I was right! You don't like to do this stuff!"

"Well, I just don't see why!" Zayn says, and when he looks back up at Liam, he looks genuinely upset. "I was getting good at that other stuff, the stuff that had nothing to do with hips and body rolling. Why can't we just do that?"

Liam takes a step closer to Zayn. "Because," he says, grasping the back of Zayn's neck, "you'll never get better if you only do the stuff you're comfortable with. You need to learn how to accept the fact that you're sexy."

Zayn scoffs and pushes Liam's hand away. "I know how to be sexy."

"Prove it, then," Liam challenges, grinning. "Show me."

And, yeah, Liam knows he’s pushing Zayn right now. But the thing is, he’s seen Zayn reach this point so many times: where his comfort zone ends and Zayn always backs down, always plays it safe. And that’s not what Liam wants for him. He thinks Zayn deserves more.

Liam grips Zayn’s shoulder and then moves behind him again. ‘I’m just trying to help,’ Liam tells himself as he places his hands back on Zayn’s hips, but he can’t deny the part of him that is dying to fit himself up against Zayn again.

Liam meets Zayn’s eyes in the mirror and says, "Shoulders first," before pushing his own forward into Zayn’s. Then he presses his chest into Zayn's shoulder blades, and Zayn is really not making this easy by barely moving with Liam at all. When his hips push forward, fitting up against Zayn's arse, Liam is disappointed to note that it doesn't feel the same as when Zayn was leaning back into him.

"Dancing with you is like dancing with a wet blanket," Liam teases.

Zayn laughs and shoves his body back into Liam's in revenge, and it’s like the tension is suddenly gone from his spine. Liam takes the opportunity to roll his body against Zayn's again, and this time it actually works. Zayn's body is pliant and warm and it feels like they've been doing this forever. Liam rolls their bodies again and again, and Zayn grins at him triumphantly in the mirror.

It doesn’t last, though. Eventually Zayn loses the rhythm and ends up pushing his hips back as Liam pushes his forward. Liam can’t help the sharp breath he draws as something white-hot courses through his lower stomach. It's different than fitting together; it's shoving together and Liam doesn't know what to think.

"Right," Liam says, stepping away from Zayn perhaps a little too quickly. "That's a whole different kind of dancing."

Zayn laughs, but he’s not looking at Liam. Then his laugh turns into a yawn and before Liam knows it, they're back upstairs in front of their hotel rooms. Zayn meets Liam's eyes just long enough to say ‘good night,’ and then he's closing the door to his and Niall’s room.

Liam stares at the door for several seconds before deciding he needs to talk to someone. He glances at Harry and Louis’ room across the hall.

Someone reasonable.

Back in his room, Liam picks up his phone, ignores all his texts and calls Danielle. She doesn’t answer, so Liam goes about getting ready for bed. He's barely finished brushing his teeth before she calls him back.

“Hey, what’s up?” she asks as soon as he answers. “How have you been?”

“Good, you?” he asks, to be polite.

“Good,” she says, drawing out the word. He knows she knows that he called for a reason. They make a great team when it comes to playing up their supposed “romance” for the press, but he doesn’t really call unless he has a reason and they both know that.

“How do you know if you’re meant to be with someone?” he asks, not bothering to lead up to the subject.

Danielle laughs. “Wow, nothing like a late-night philosophical discussion to keep the mind sharp.”

Liam laughs, too, but doesn’t retract the question.

“Um,” Danielle says eventually. “I don’t know. I mean, can you really say that any one person is meant to be with anyone else? Like, if you were meant to be with someone, wouldn’t you just be with them?”

“Yeah, okay, but what if you’re with them? How do you know if it can be anything more?”

There’s a pause on the other end, and Liam is a little afraid that she’s going to start asking questions, but instead she says, “Well, I guess you should look for compatibility. And whether or not you feel anything for them physically and emotionally. And maybe whether the benefits of being with someone outweigh the costs.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Liam agrees, before he quickly changes the topic. The last thing he needs is his fake significant other speculating about any hypothetical real significant others.

They talk for another ten minutes about their respective gigs before saying good night.

“Good luck,” Danielle adds before she hangs up.

Liam knows he should try to sleep, but Danielle’s words are still running through his head. Part of him wants to get up and make a pros and cons list, while another part wants to know why he’s even considering such a thing in the first place.

But when he thinks about how he and Zayn fit together, all his other thoughts calm and quiet, so he focuses on that until the tension leaves his body and sleep takes him.

- - -

After the awkwardness of their last dance session, Zayn expects there to be an even longer lull between their lessons than before, which is disappointing because he was starting to feel like they were really making progress.

But when, a week later, Liam opens the door to their room and says, "There's a studio downstairs. You want to dance?" Zayn drops everything and follows him eagerly.

This time, Liam teaches him how to use his knees, and how to roll up his spine as he leans forward, and what to do with his arms as his moves his hips. He keeps a noticeable distance from Zayn the whole time.

Not that he was really expecting Liam to get that close again. Hell, Zayn's not even sure he wants Liam to get that close again, because he's still pretty sure he was doing everything wrong and he doesn't want the reminder of how much he sucks at this.

It's just that... being pressed so close to Liam was kind of wonderful.

So he twists and rolls his body and the disappointment fades away because he's pretty sure he's getting better at this. It's all about being smooth and graceful, which it turns out Zayn is actually good at. Liam teases him that they should have been doing ballet this whole time.

It still makes Zayn laugh to see himself dancing like this, especially when Liam steals Niall's portable speakers and starts blasting Usher.

"Make sure you're hitting the move on the beat," Liam reminds him, over Zayn’s giggles.

Zayn thrusts his hips forward on the beat with a little more vigor than necessary, and then they are both laughing. Liam turns towards him, and suddenly they are gyrating towards each other. Zayn's gaze zeros in on Liam's hips, which are getting closer and closer.

Before Liam can get too close, Zayn jumps around and does his "signature move," the one he always resorts to in the end.

Liam laughs and shoves at Zayn's back, but when Zayn turns around, Liam is looking at him curiously.

"You're doing it again," he says simply, like Zayn's supposed to know what that means.

"Doing what?"

"Dancing like you don't take yourself seriously," Liam answers, still staring.

"Well, that's not a bad thing. You can't take yourself too seriously in life," Zayn says, sagely.

"Right, but when you do it with dancing, it's like... Like you don't think you look good doing it, so you make yourself look ridiculous." And now Liam looks kind of sad.

Zayn shrugs. He's really not sure what to say to that.

They stare at each other for several moments, and then Liam asks, "Why don’t you think you look good?" so softly that it makes Zayn's throat constrict.

His eyes dart to the floor, and he can feel himself kind of folding in. He shrugs.

“I guess…” Zayn trails off, trying to collect his thoughts. “If people make fun of the way you look enough, you start to believe them?”

He looks up, and Liam is looking back at him, staring intensely. And then Liam is pulling Zayn to him and Zayn buries his face against his neck. They stay like that for what feels like hours, but it really only lasts for like half a song. The next song that comes on is a slow ballad, and Liam starts swaying gently.

Zayn laughs. "This kind of dancing I do know how to do," he says, voice muffled against Liam's neck still. Liam laughs too. Then they’re slow dancing, arms wrapped around each other and turning slowly in a circle.

"I think you're amazing," Liam says like he's stating a simple truth.

"I think you're amazing," Zayn returns, squeezing his arms around Liam’s shoulders.

"And I do think you're a good dancer," Liam continues. "I just think you need to believe in yourself more. Believe in your sexiness."

"I know people think I'm sexy, Liam," Zayn reprimands to avoid feeling embarrassed. "There are thousands of girls who tell me so daily."

"Okay, but other people thinking it and you thinking it are two different things," is all Liam says in return.

Zayn doesn't have anything to say to that, so he pulls back slightly and takes Liam's hands into his own. He turns Liam and loops their arms around his torso, spinning him out like they are ballroom dancing. Liam laughs, and they spin together until the song changes.

"This is a strange playlist," Liam says as Little Freak comes on. Zayn laughs and starts to sway a little slower, a little more deliberately.

Liam pulls back a little, watching Zayn with a pleased smile he always wears where someone finally gets it and starts swaying, too.

Zayn's pretty sure it starts out as a joke. They'd just shared a pretty personal moment, and this song is so ridiculously dirty that they can't not make fun of it, but whatever light-heartedness they started dancing with pretty much flies out the window when Zayn turns his back to Liam and leans back into his space. There is a moment of terrifying hesitation before Liam steps right up to Zayn's back, practically seals them together, and they start to sway, rolling and circling their hips in sync.

Zayn chances a glance at the mirror and almost gasps.

Liam's head is bowed over his shoulder, his hands on Zayn's hips, and they look so hot moving together like this. And Zayn gets it. This is sexy. It's simple and kind of elegant and sexy, and he doesn't feel ridiculous or embarrassed because it looks good and suddenly he wants so much more.

He waits another few circles of their hips before he switches directions and presses back into Liam's hips. Liam freezes but doesn't pull back this time.

His neck is still arched over Zayn's shoulder, so Zayn tips his head back slightly and grinds his hips back in just the way Liam taught him. Liam's grip tightens on his hips and then pulls back gently, guiding Zayn's hips in tight little circles and pushing his hips forward in counterpoint.

Zayn's heart leaps into his throat, and then his brain takes a short hiatus. He closes his eyes, reaches one arm back to cup the back of Liam's neck and just lets go. He feels himself rolling his body and using his lower back the way Liam told him to, and it doesn't even matter what he looks like anymore because this feels incredible.

Liam is pulling at his pants now, fingers curled into the elastic band, not trying to take them off but definitely trying to get Zayn closer to him, and it pulls the material of his sweats against his dick in a way that is almost perfect.

Zayn turns his head that much further, tilts it back just far enough that he's breathing against Liam's mouth, sharing heavy breaths for too many quick heartbeats before Liam presses forward and seals their mouths together. Zayn wastes no time in turning around and winding his arms around Liam's neck to hold him in place. If this is his one chance to do this, he's not wasting it.

It's not as perfect of a fit facing each other, but Liam's not stilling his hips, so Zayn's not about to either.

Liam's hands drift down to Zayn's arse, pulling Zayn in, and the kiss breaks as they gasp against each other's lips. He does it again and again, and it's so good, but all the burning pleasure coursing through his body seems to jump-start Zayn's brain again.

"Liam," Zayn whispers. "Liam, what are we doing?"

Liam stills his movements and pulls away enough to look Zayn in the eye.

"Dancing. Right?"

Zayn swallows. "Is that all?"

Liam's eyes dart down to Zayn's lips, and Zayn licks at them, unconsciously.

"No," he whispers back. "Nothing with you is ever that simple."

Zayn feels his own eyes fall to Liam's lips, and he licks at his own again. "Is that okay?"

Liam's eyebrows come together for a moment, but they smooth out just as quickly. He smiles.

"Yeah," he says, squeezing Zayn's hips, and Zayn can't keep the smile off his face.

"Okay," Zayn whispers, tilting his chin forward. Liam waits only a second before pressing their lips together again. The kiss is gentle and sweet, and Zayn wants to memorize it forever and ask a million questions but also maybe never move again because this is perfect. This is something he'd never thought he would actually have, a place he never thought his relationship with Liam would reach.

There are still things to worry about, like what management will say if they find out because they've been talking about getting a girlfriend for Zayn, too, and they've already set up a date for him to go on during the band's break. And then there are the boys, because who knows how they'll react, but Zayn pushes it all to the back of his mind because this is one of the most important moments of his life so far and he can't waste it.

One of Liam's hands runs up Zayn's back, and Zayn breaks the kiss to gasp, "Should we head up?"

"Yeah." Liam grins and then steps away to gather Niall's speakers and Zayn's ipod. Zayn feels cold without Liam's body heat against him, and this is what he focuses on during the elevator ride up to their room. He can see Liam glancing at him, so he cuts his eyes over to him and winks.

Liam laughs and leans in for what might have been a kiss, but then the elevator comes to a stop and he pulls back before the doors can open.

They make it down the hall and into their room without seeing anyone, and Zayn is relieved because all he wants right now is to be left alone. Once inside, Zayn just watches Liam set Niall's speakers up again on the hotel room table. He scrolls through Zayn's ipod until he finds some soft music, and then he turns around to face Zayn.

It occurs to him, then, that Liam may be trying to "set the mood."

"Are we going to slow dance again?" Zayn teases.

"Well," Liam says, walking toward Zayn with a soft smile on his lips. "It worked out well last time."

Zayn laughs and shoves Liam to the side so he falls onto Zayn's bed. Liam bounces and then makes himself comfortable as Zayn kneels on the bed. After a second of hesitation, Zayn crawls forward to straddle Liam's hips.

Liam arches an eyebrow at him, and Zayn just smiles back coyly.

"So I guess I should thank you," Zayn says, softly, not quite sure of what he's doing but feeling brave enough to try. "For, you know, teaching me how to dance, yeah?"

"Absolutely." Liam grins, folding his arms behind his head.

Zayn smiles back before he scoots forward a little further up and lowers himself onto Liam's hips. He wiggles a little to get comfortable, and Liam's hands shoot out to grab his hips.

"Shit," Liam gasps, and Zayn breathes, "Yeah?" and grinds down.

"Yeah," Liam groans, pulling at Zayn's hips as his head falls back against the mattress.

Zayn rolls his hips until he can feel Liam's erection, full and swollen beneath him. It's possibly the hottest thing he's ever experienced, but he knows the throbbing, burning pleasure isn't enough to get him off.

He runs the tips of his fingers along the top of Liam's sweats, experimentally. Liam's abs clench, and then he is pushing at Zayn's hips, forcing Zayn to kneel up so that he can shove his sweats and boxers down his thighs.

Zayn just kind of gapes for a moment at the sight of Liam exposed for him, but then Liam is pulling at his sweats, and Zayn tips to the side so he can pull them off his legs entirely.

Their shirts and socks follow, until they are both naked and reaching for each other, and somehow Liam ends up on top this time, but it's okay because his mouth is on Zayn's neck and his hand is on Zayn's dick and everything feels fucking amazing; he's already so close.

Zayn finally get his hands on Liam's cock, and as soon as he does Liam groans out his name, a sort of 'Oh god, Zayn,' that has Zayn crossing his eyes and coming all over his own stomach.

It takes him a moment to come down, but when he does Liam is still braced above him, watching his face with wide-eyed wonder.

"I made you come," Liam says, like maybe Zayn hadn't noticed it happening.

"Yeah," Zayn agrees. "Good job." He looks down at the mess he made, sees his hands still gripping Liam's dick and gets a wonderful idea. "Do you mind if I..."

Liam looks confused until Zayn swipes his palm through his own spunk and then gestures back towards Liam's dick, at which point Liam groans again and buries his face in Zayn's neck.

Zayn takes that to mean, 'No, I don't mind at all.'

He wraps his slick hand around Liam again, and then Liam is groaning his name again, fucking into Zayn's hand, and Zayn feel the heat rush back to his face because he's the one making Liam sound this way and it's so good. So sexy.

"Still think I don't know how to be sexy?" Zayn rasps, tightening his fist as Liam thrusts into it, and Liam laughs and comes, which is pretty amazing.

He keeps laughing as he collapses half on top of Zayn.

"I never said you don't know how to be sexy," he defends eventually, once they have caught their breath and the mess has started to cool all over Zayn. "I said you don't believe you're sexy."

"Changed your mind, then?"

Liam looks at him for a moment, just looks at him, and says, "When you can show off your 'sexy' in front of more than just me, then my mind will change.” Zayn mock-glares at him, but even that is too much effort for right now.

"Fine," he says, and he rearranges the pillow under his head before he remembers he can't sleep when he's covered in jizz.

Liam laughs gently and then climbs off the bed to offer a hand to Zayn. They clean up, strip the bed, crack a window and then fall onto Liam's bed to be greeted by sweet unconsciousness.

- - -

In the morning, they kiss and brush their teeth and then kiss some more. They’re late to breakfast, which is normal for Zayn but not for Liam, so everyone asks where he was as soon as he sits down.

"I slept in on accident. Stayed up too late last night," he answers.

"What were you doing?" Louis asks, his tone insinuating and eyebrows waggling.

Liam’s eyes cut to Zayn and they share a small, entirely suspicious smile.

"Dancing."

- - -

Two weeks later, Liam gets an email from Zayn that's simply a link to YouTube. It takes him to a video that already has thousands of views. Liam doesn't know what to expect, but Zayn dancing like that with two of his friends from home probably would have been the last thing, had he made a list or something.

He watches it three times before sending Zayn a quick text.

saw ur video.

He only has to wait a minute for Zayn's response.

did it change ur mind?

Liam grins at the text. Actually, he’s been grinning since he first watched the video, ten minutes ago.

o yea ;) he texts back, but that's not all he wants to say. After another minute he texts, im proud of u

Liam spends the next four minutes staring at his phone until it finally vibrates again.

thanks :) xx

Liam smiles back at the little smiley face and then texts, maybe u can show me those moves again in person

And it seems like his text has only just sent when he gets Zayn's response.

o yea ;)

fic: Gotta Be You (Zaim)

berusama — Sat, 28 Apr 2012 22:58:03 GMT

Title:
Pairing(s): Zayn/Liam
Rating: R
Warning(s): angst
Disclaimer: I cannot and do not own/know/associate with/stalk the real people mentioned herein. The following is a work of fiction. No money was made in its creation.
Summary:
Author's Note:

As soon as Louis walks into the kitchen, Zayn pauses the video game at which he is soundly beating Liam. They glance at each other briefly before scrambling to the end of the couch and peering around the back to get a view of the scene that is surely about to unfold in the kitchen. They have money on what happens next, so Zayn tries to ignore the way Liam is practically on top of him, his front almost flush with Zayn's side.

Silently, they watch Louis walk to the cupboard, pull out a box of cereal and then make his way to the fridge. Liam scoots further into Zayn, trying to get a better look, but it brings his hips into full contact with Zayn's arse and yeah, okay, Zayn's having a lot of trouble concentrating now.

In the kitchen, Louis opens the fridge, stares into it for several moments and then calmly closes the door. He sighs, and then says, "Dear Niall," as though he is composing a letter out loud. Liam groans and immediately backs out of Zayn's space and Zayn is disappointed until he remembers that he's just won the bet. He jumps off the couch, grabs the two fivers off of the coffee table and begins to flail unnecessarily.

"Thank you," Louis continues on with his letter, oblivious to Zayn's victory dance, "for drinking the last of the milk with your breakfast, as I hadn't really wanted any of it anyway. Instead I plan to substitute milk with orange juice; I'm sure my cereal will taste just fine. Much love forever and always, expect the times I'm being sarcastic, Louis."

Louis mimes signing his name on the non-existant letter, folding it and putting it into an equally non-existant envelope. Only then does he look over at Niall who is sitting at the kitchen table next to an incriminatingly empty milk carton. Louis saunters over to the table and places the invisible letter next to Niall's hand with a sickly sweet smile.

Niall glances down at the "letter" and then back up at Louis. "I asked Paul to run out and grab some more about half an hour ago. He should be back soon."

Louis' smile freezes on his face. He makes an uncomfortable sort of laughing sound and then sits down next to Niall while pretending to nonchalantly sweep the "letter" off the table and onto the ground.

"So, how did you sleep last night, Niallers?" Louis asks, to which Harry responds with, "Twat," from behind a news paper that no one actually believes he's reading.

"Hn," Louis says, at which point Zayn must catch his eye because he calls over, "Got into the energy juice again, Malik?"

Zayn ignores him and continues to shimmy his hips while turning in circles.

"He's celebrating," Liam explains, getting up from the couch to move into the kitchen. Zayn sees him hop up onto the bench, so he follows of course, not quite satisfied that Liam has been taunted enough.

"He looks like he's hailing a cab," Niall says.

"Or trying to swim," Louis adds.

"Or being attacked by a swarm of bees," Harry comments, having put down the paper.

"Or being a wanker," Liam agrees, kicking out at Zayn's still gyrating body.

Unfortunately, the kick that is meant to hit Zayn's hip lands precariously close to his crotch instead. As Zayn grabs at himself and doubles over, Louis -- predictably enough -- falls of his chair laughing.

Liam and Niall are both at Zayn's sides immediately, laughing while they ask him if he's okay.

"Well that's one way to make Zayn an alto," Harry says, but his eyes are sympathetic.

Zayn straightens up with an exaggerated moan, as it hadn't actually hurt that bad at all, but Liam is rubbing his back soothingly, so...

"Louis, you are heartless," Liam scolds down to the boy who is still cackling on the ground.

"What can I say?" Louis laughs, "I just love seeing Zayn in pain." His grin vanishes almost immediately as he says, "WHOA, that got X-rated real fast," and Zayn's mind scrambles to figure out what he's talking about because experience has taught him that it's never a good thing to be out of the loop when Louis is grinning like that.

"Ugh, 'Zayn in pain'!" Harry exclaims suddenly and he and Louis share a filthy grin and begin laughing. "You would love seeing that, you pervert."

"What-?" Niall begins, but Louis is already jumping to his feet to point it out.

"Zayn," he says pointing to Zayn, "in Payne," he finishes pointing to Liam, and suddenly Niall is in hysterics, Harry is telling Zayn that he'll never be able to hurt himself in public again and Louis is hanging off of an extremely red-faced Liam who has taken a quick step away from Zayn and is avoiding eye-contact.

"Zayn in Payne," Louis is repeating like it's the funniest thing he's ever come up with, "Oh god, our fans would either kill themselves or die of happiness."

"Whatever," Zayn says finally, and he's not sure he should say this, but he knows he doesn't want Louis to have the last laugh. "You've got it wrong anyway." He pauses long enough for Liam to look over at him finally, waits until he knows he has everyone's attention before saying, "Liam's usually the one who tops." He winks at Liam and if it's possible, the other boy blushes even harder.

But regardless of Liam's embarrassment, the comment has the desired effect. The other three are laughing again -- Louis having actually collapsed back to the floor -- but they're laughing with Zayn, not at him. Louis actually starts bowing at his feet ridiculously and Niall joins in, and it's pretty perfect except for the part where Liam has managed an expression that is partly bemused and partly horrified.

Liam walks into the studio and is greeted by the sound of Zayn's voice. Immediately Liam knows that Zayn is listening to his ipod, not because Zayn never sings a cappella, but because when he's got his head phones on and the music turned up, Zayn's voice sounds different.

If Liam is being completely honest, it actually sounds better.

It's like, if Zayn can't hear himself then no one can hear him and no one can judge him. Right now all Zayn can hear is the music, so he's not worried about blending his voice with four others, or finding the harmony, or keeping time. He just sings and while Zayn's performance voice is beautiful, this version of his voice just feels more honest, more like the real Zayn, because even Zayn doesn't know what it sounds like.

Liam wonders what would happen if they had Zayn wear earplugs while they recorded. Not that he would ever bring it up, because that would mean sharing this part of Zayn with everyone else.

Liam walks into the room and Zayn doesn't stop singing when he looks up.

"If you let me, here's what I'll do: I'll take care of you," he sings to Liam, and Liam kind of wishes he could just listen to Zayn listen to his ipod all day.

"I don't know why everyone makes a big deal about us when Zayn runs around kissing you all the time," Louis comments.

"Well that's the same kind of thing though, right? It's just for the cameras," Liam says, because that's what he's assumed all this time. When Louis shakes his head though, something unpleasant happens in Liam's stomach.

"No, I asked him, I said, 'DJ Malik, are you trying to steal Larry Stylinson's gimmick' and he had no idea what I was talking about. And you know how Zayn gets when you're onto him, all defensive outrage. But there was none of that. He didn't even know I was talking about him and you."

"Zayn, I'm seeing Danielle,"

"I know. Were you two on a break or something?"

"No, I mean, I have a girlfriend. I'm not available for you to put the moves on like this."

"Put the- What? You think I've been hitting on you?"

"Well Louis said it's not for the cameras, so what am I supposed to think?"

"Louis? What the hell has Louis got to do with this?"

"No, never mind. Zayn, I want us to be friends, but I just... Sometimes it seems like you want more."

"I don't." Zayn says it so fast that Liam as barely finished his sentence before the other boy is denying it.

Liam is at a loss. He just wanted to clarify their relationship, but now Zayn looks like he's in a trance, staring at Liam's shoes. He just wanted to talk to Zayn and instead he broke him.

"Zayn," he starts, but it's too soft and Zayn jerks back at the sound of it.

"I have to go, um..." He trails off, but then nods is head, "I have to go."

He gives Liam a wide berth as he heads for the door, grabbing his wallet and keys on the way. Liam doesn't see him again for the rest of the day.

"I've ruined everything," Liam says, and he's not looking for pity, he's really not, but it still feels nice when Harry sits down next to him and wraps his arms around Liam.

"Not ruined," he says, head on Liam's shoulder, "Just a little damaged. It'll be fine."

"How? I just keep making it worse."

"Well, look at it from Zayn's point of view. He basically got shot down by someone he didn't even ask out. You need to show him that you still care about him."

"I don't want to lead him on."

"There are ways to show someone you care without being romantic."

"Yeah, for example Harry blows me every night, but it's not romantic at all. It's just his way of showing me he cares."

For some reason, probably the context of their conversation, Liam immediately pictures Zayn giving a blow job, instead of Harry. It blanks every other thought from Liam's mind and he groans, burying his head in his hands.

"Don't worry, I have an idea," Louis says, probably trying to be comforting.

Liam groans again, even louder.

Zayn is going crazy.

Or at least it feels that way right now because he could have sworn he left his lighter and pack of smokes right by his bed, but now they are no where to be found. In the entire room. And to make thing even stranger, all of his spare lighters are missing too. It's like every piece of evidence of his bad habit are just... gone.

So maybe he's not going crazy.

Zayn storms into Louis' room, but stops short when the only occupant is Liam, sitting on the hotel couch.

"Hey," Liam greets him, and Zayn can tell he's trying to sound normal.

"Hi," Zayn says. "Louis around?"

"No, he and Niall went to the pool. Dunno where Harry is."

"Alright," Zayn says. "Why are you in here?"

Liam pauses and Zayn is instantly suspicious. He glances into the open bathroom to his left, preparing himself for an ambush.

"We figured Louis would be the first person you suspected after you realized they were gone."

"You guys did take my shit!" Zayn says, angry but also relieved that he's not actually going crazy.

"Yeah, we did." Liam stands up and takes a few steps toward Zayn. "You said you wanted to quit."

"So? That doesn't mean you guys can just take my stuff. Where is it?"

"We gave your lighters away. Told some fans that they were yours and that if they loved you they'd never take up smoking. Then we flushed the cigarettes down the toilet."

"What the hell!" Zayn wants to shove Liam, but even now he can't bring himself to touch the other boy.

"You wanted to quit!" Liam says, and it's the closest to yelling Zayn's ever heard from him. "You told me that you wanted to quit and you asked for my help."

"Yeah, but I didn't say I wanted to quit cold turkey! That's not helping!"

Liam opens one of the desk drawers and pulls out a box of nicotine patches.

"I got you these." He holds them out to Zayn. "I'm just trying to help you because you asked me to. And... because I care. But if you want me to butt out, tell me now."

Zayn stares at the box, but doesn't move for several long moments. He can see this for what it is: an olive branch of sorts. A pacifying gift for giving and throwing Zayn's stuff away, but also sort of a 'hey, let's be buddies again' gesture.

And yes, Zayn wants to be back in Liam's good graces more than anything, but he's going to have to be so careful. He's going to have to constantly keep himself in check, everything that he does or says or expresses around Liam will have to be filtered, and all for what?

Zayn looks at Liam, still holding the box out between them.

For the chance to be near the sun and the stars again?

Zayn takes the box.

The cigarettes don't work. Zayn refuses to be alone in a room with him, refuses to get closer than a meter from him, doesn't speak to him unless spoken to... it's frustrating as hell.

After three days of this nonsense, Liam pounds on the door and sticks his foot in the threshold as soon as Zayn opens it.

"What are you doing?" Zayn demands. His voice is scratchy and his hair is sticking up in all directions.

"We need to talk," Liam answers, putting a hand on the door and pushing gently.

There is resistance and Zayn says, "I don't want to talk."

Liam lets out a quick sigh and waits for Zayn to meet his eyes. "Please?"

Zayn stares back for a few seconds before moving away from the door and back into his room.

Liam follows at a safe distance, but when Zayn turns around with crossed arms, he doesn't know where to begin. There are so many things he wants to ask: why and when and why, but what comes out is, "What's your deal?"

Zayn's face darkens even more and Liam can admit to himself that that was not the best opening line.

"My deal?" Zayn retorts. "What- What are you trying to say?"

"I'm trying to say that I don't understand why you're still being so weird around me!" Liam blurts out, but at least it's the truth.

Zayn's eyebrows steeple up and his mouth turns down and opens like he has something to say to that, but nothing comes out.

"What is it?" Liam asks, but it kind of sounds like he's pleading. "What's wrong?"

And then Zayn's eyebrows and scrunching down and he says, "What's wrong?" like Liam is an idiot. "So much shit is wrong Liam, and if you can't see that, then it's not my fault!"

"It's your fault if you're being an ass and not talking to me!" Liam yells back.

"It's none of your business," Zayn yells back, and Liam doesn't think he's ever seen him look so angry. "I don't have to tell you shit. Fuck you!"

"Hey!" Liam says, and takes a step forward, because he doesn't need this. He doesn't need Zayn saying shit like this that they won't be able to take back later. And he doesn't really know what he's going to do or say, but he does know that he would never try to hurt Zayn.

So when Zayn startles and hurries backwards, almost tripping over the corner of the bed behind him, Liam's stomach plummets.

"Zayn," he breathes, and moves forward again, quickly enough that he gets his arms around Zayn's shoulders before the other boy can push him away.

Zayn's hands make it to his ribs, though and Liam can feel them clamp around him and push. He doesn't let go.

"Zayn," Liam whispers again, "Stop. Shh, stop."

Zayn lets out a broken noise that sounds both like a protest and a sob.

Liam repeats his name and holds on tight until his neck feels damp and Zayn's shoulders are shaking with silent tears.

"What's wrong?" Liam whispers. Zayn lets out a sob and digs his fingers into the flesh below Liam's ribs.

"I didn't know," Zayn manages to get out. "I'm sorry."

He pushes against Liam again, trying to get away, but Liam holds on tight.

"Didn't know what?" he asks, trying to sound as soothing as possible.

"I didn't know I was-" Zayn stops, but tries again. "I didn't know I liked-"

Too many emotions wash over Liam in that moment, but the strongest is horror that his best friend has been going through such a crisis of identity alone for the past week.

"Shh," Liam soothes, "It's okay. Everything's okay."

"It's not!" Zayn says, pushing at Liam again. This time Liam lets him pull away. He watches Zayn wipe at his eyes and nose, steadily avoiding Liam's gaze.

"I'm sorry," Liam says quietly.

"For what?" Zayn scoffs, glancing over at Liam, but not meeting his eyes.

"For not being there for you."

"Whatever. I understand if you want to go now," Zayn says, his tone apathetic, and Liam snaps.

He really does shove Zayn his time, onto the bed they are standing next to. Zayn's eyes shoot up to Liam's in shock.

"I would never leave you like this," he says, angry and not caring to mask it. "You should know that by now."

Zayn looks like he wants to argue back, but averts his gaze instead. Liam watches Zayn for several seconds, and then decides to sit down next to him on the bed.

"I'm sorry I shoved you," he says after a beat.

"I'm sorry I-" Zayn starts, but his voice cracks. "I'm just sorry."

"Hey," Liam says, turning to face his friend. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"I fucked everything up. God, I don't want this!"

"No, look, I get it that things are confusing right now, but-"

"I'm not confused, Liam," Zayn cuts him off.

And it's not that Liam's never had any gay friends before, he has. But if Zayn is gay... If Zayn has been unconsciously attracted to him this whole time and Liam turns out to be the asshole who shot him down before he even knew... It's just a lot to take in. A lot to fix.

Zayn must take his silence for disbelief, because he says, "I used to get bullied a lot in school for my looks. People called me 'fag' like it was my name. And I guess... I guess I was just so busy trying to prove them wrong that I never even considered..." He trails off, and Liam wants to hug him, but he's worried that it would be awkward.

"They were assholes."

Zayn actually huffs out a half-laugh. "No shit."

Liam smiles. "I just meant that you don't have to prove yourself to people like that. You're still my friend, no matter what." Liam pauses, debating for a second before saying, "I still love you, no matter what."

Zayn doesn't meet his eye, but he does nod his head. They sit in silence for several minutes, which isn't unusual for them, but Liam feel fidgety this time. Every time he glances at Zayn he sees that far-away look in his eye that he got when Liam first confronted him, like he was in some sort of trance.

After what feels like forever, Liam decides to make himself comfortable. He scoots up to lean against the pillows and headboard, and eventually his eyes start to droop closed.

When he wakes half an hour later, his teeth feel fuzzy and Zayn his curled up on Liam's bed with his back to Liam. Liam's first thought is to wonder if Zayn is mad at him because normally he would have just curled up on top of Liam instead. His second thought is relief that he didn't do that, and his third is guilt over his second thoughts.

He rubs his hands over his face and gets up to go to the bathroom and change. He brushes his teeth, washes his face and is about to crawl back into bed when Zayn stirs. Liam freezes and waits to see if Zayn is going to wake up, and what he'll say to him, if he does.

Luckily, Zayn just rolls over and pulls the pillow further under his head.

Liam can see Zayn's face now and he lays down in bed facing his friend. He looks peaceful and beautiful and Liam's heart feels like it's breaking for him. He keeps hearing Zayn say 'I don't want this' over and over again, and Liam squeezes his eyes shut against the tears.

Eventually his eyelids droop down and down until he can't see Zayn anymore, and his last thought before sleep takes him is that he has to fix this.

"Jason gone then?" Liam asks as nonchalantly as possible.

"Yeah," Zayn answers from where he is sprawled across the couch, "Just left actually."

"Oh," Liam says, as though he hadn't been listening, waiting for the boy to leave. He walks to the kitchen for a glass of water, but it isn't enough to do, so he ends up asking, "So how is he?"

"Um, he's good," Zayn answers. He looks a little thrown off, but then again Liam's never asked after Jason's health before. "Yeah, he's fine."

"More than fine, I hear," Louis pipes up from the love seat. He cuts his eyes to Liam and stage whispers, "Mouth like a hoover, that one. His words, not mine." Louis points an accusatory finger at Zayn whose mouth has dropped open.

"What the hell, Lou?" Zayn demands, a soft blush starting across his cheekbones as he kicks a leg out at the other boy.

"What?" Louis defends, returning the kick. "You didn't say that was private!"

Liam, for his part, hasn't processed a word past 'mouth like a hoover' and the implications behind it.

"Wow," he finally manages, interrupting the kicking battle going on in front of him. "You guys have only been seeing each other for two weeks."

Liam knows it was the wrong thing to say as soon as Zayn's glare is transfered from Louis to him.

"Well Jason says actually we're moving pretty slow, so..." Zayn trails off. His expression shifts quickly from angry to defensive, and Liam knows it's because the sudden concern he's feeling is leaking through his own expression.

"Zayn," he starts, softly, and Zayn crosses his arms in front of his chest, "He's not, like, pressuring you to do stuff, is he?"

"We'll kick his arse, if he is," Louis assures him.

Zayn's expression softens as he looks at Louis, and then his eyes drift back to Liam. "He's not. You don't have to worry about defending my virtue, Daddy Direction."

Relief swells up inside Liam along side a sick sense of disappointment because apparently Jason can do no wrong.

"Good," Liam says, hoping his smile looks genuine, "I already spend too much time worrying about Louis' virtue."

"Oi," Louis protests, but his doesn't take his eyes from the TV, so Liam's not really worried about retaliation.

When he looks back at Zayn, the other boy is staring right at him and Liam's not quite sure what to do, so he just looks back. It feels like maybe Zayn is trying to read his mind, so Liam thinks as loudly as possible: I miss you, I care about you, I just want to be your best friend again.

Maybe it works because Zayn sits up and scoots over so that there is now room for another person on the couch. He gestures with his eyes, inviting Liam to sit, and Liam makes sure to walk, not run, to his place next to Zayn.

And even though Zayn is very deliberate about not touching Liam or getting into his personal space, he stays next to him for the rest of the match, so Liam counts it as a step forward.

"You can't go out with Zayn tonight."

"Why not?"

"He's gay."

"What?"

"Gay?"

"No, what does that have to do with it?"

"You can't lead him on, what if he thinks this is a date?"

"He doesn't."

"How do you know?"

"Well I can't just cancel now."

"Yes, you can. Tell him something's come up. Tell him you're going on a real date! With a girl! That way it will send the message that you're both straight and not available!"

"Okay, not that I would, but where would I find a girl to go out with right now anyway?"

"How about her?"

"She's a dancer."

"So?"

"So I'm pretty sure that's harassment in the work place."

"Oh my god. Hey! Hey, hi, I'm Louis and this is Liam. What's your name?

"Danielle."

"Lovely name. Listen, Danielle, are you busy tonight?"

"...No."

"Splendid. Would you mind going out with Liam here? It's kind of an emergency."

"Louis, stop. I'm so sorry, he's a bit crazy and-"

"Alright."

"-What?"

"I'll go out with you."

"Really?"

"Really, Liam, now go!"

"Just let me get changed, yeah?"

"Um."

"That means yes, of course, he'll be waiting right here."

"I'm pretty sure this is a terrible idea. I can't go out with her."

"Yes, you can and you will. Are you really going to ditch a gorgeous girl like that for Zayn? Just so you don't hurt his feelings? Trust me, this will be better for both of you in the long-run."

Community: S3E14 Reaction Post

berusama — Fri, 06 Apr 2012 07:39:26 GMT

Okay, so I know I haven't written anything about several of the last episodes but, honestly, most of the reactions I felt the needs to get out into words were about J/A and it just wasn't doing it for me lately. I wasn't feeling any genuine progress for their relationship and I was being slightly offended at the stuff they were throwing us, like the shippers needed to be placated while the actual fans for the J/B they deserved.

BUT.

Omg, today's episode was SO GOOD. SO GOOD. Like, favorite episode, perfect group-dynamic, excellent character chemistry, amazing plot, sweetest ending, flail-worthy J/A interactions, kind of good. I can't even really put into words how much I love this episode except that I wish I were watching it right now instead of just writing about it. Everything in it was just so good.

And the J/A! They were so sweet, especially Jeff. It's like... Jeff had two days off. He doesn't have to worry about school or homework or going to crappy classes, he just has to keep the war going as long as it possible will. It's like Jeff's perfect two days and how does he spend it? Texting Annie. And worrying over whether she's mad at him. And then taking her advice to help his friends. And then taking her advice again to sort his feelings out. So fucking sweet, this was just such a good episode for them. For everything, tho, really. It was a great ensemble piece and I loved every second of it!!! Birthday cake, birthday cake, unicorn, woman's shoe.

Community: S3E7 Reaction Post

berusama — Fri, 11 Nov 2011 05:00:46 GMT

I verbalized it this way to a friend: I thought Jeff and Annie could have been sweet, but they're having him lean on Britta this season and that's fine because Jeff needs someone -- he's obviously going through something -- but i think that the more he goes to Britta for comfort (no matter how scathing), even in friendship, the farther he moves from Annie. I don't think he'd honestly seek out Annie for comfort, but there are always ways of forcing his issues and concerns out of him in her presence. It's TV for fucks sake, the writers can do what they want and it seems like they're actively choosing to keep Jeff and Annie apart. And even though they're bother growing as characters, they're not growing together. maybe that's good. maybe not. all i know is that it doesn't feel good, to me. i hope Annie will get the love and support she needs from Troy and Abed because she's not getting it from anywhere else these days.

Community: S3E5 Reaction Post

berusama — Fri, 28 Oct 2011 04:36:27 GMT

So, I have a lot of feelings around this episode. I feel delighted by Annie's story and how it turned out to be funny and twisted and gory. I feel bored and disappointed by the J/B action. I feel annoyed over the lack of J/A action. And I feel uncomfortable about how the "feelings" Jeff expressed for Annie during E2 seem to have been a one-off and a ploy to get higher ratings by dangling ship business in front of starved fangirls.

I think that Annie was amazing in this episode. I'm loving her more and more as the season progresses and I'm starting to think that maybe she's too good for Jeff. Maybe she's too mature and smart and wholesome and clever and cunning and sweet for him. If he keeps letter something as petty as age get in the way of all that, then maybe she's better off without him. I don't really want that, but I can't help but think that the writers are never actually going to give us J/A. They're just going to slip in conversations that go no where and make-out sessions that "never really happen" and hope that the shippers are satisfied and that offends me. I'm smarter than that. I see through their shit and it's rude. Cut it out Harmon! >:[

That being said, I enjoyed how they tried to touch on a lot of the mainstream horror story genres with the study group's different stories: Britta told the classic teen-age thriller, Abed told a creepy suspense story, Annie told a hack and slash story, Troy told a story based around mad science and unnatural gore, and Shirley told an apocalypse story. I thought it was clever and fun.

Over all, I enjoyed the episode. I loved Annie. I loved Troy and Abed. And so, naturally, I'm really excited for the episode where Annie moves in with the boys. It should be hilariously antic-filled and I hope it makes Jeff jealous.

Community: S3E3 Reaction Post

berusama — Fri, 07 Oct 2011 03:59:44 GMT

So it seemed like the general reaction within the J/A LJ-based fandom was one of people not understanding why the study group was being so awful to Todd and each other. But i think this episode and it's cringe-worthy interactions made sense. we already know that everyone in the study group is kind of petty and childish, especially when they're all together. and we already know how much they depend on each other's approval, praise and support. we know that each of them is invested enough in the study group to want to try and work out the best possible solution for all of them, even if outsiders (and one or two of their own) are hurt while coming to that solution. my interpretation of their behavior is that each individual in the group needs to be accepted by the rest of the group, but not necessarily by the specific members that make up the group. maybe it's because they all know the group has been through too much to break up now, or maybe they just really don't see each other as real people anymore (which i miss, because i think that in season 1 the show did a good job of having every combination of characters have at least one positive relationship-building subplot), but either way i think having to work together and be an actual team will force them to accept each person's strengths and weaknesses, and draw them closer to a more healthy group-relationship. or it will destroy them, but i'm not betting on that option. i also think that them becoming closer and learning how to utilize each individual for optimum group-functionality and cohesion means that they will be making more than a few enemies along the way. but hey, if the universe really is molding them into some kind of Super Group, then they're going to need arch nemesis at some point!

Community: S3E2 Reaction Post

berusama — Fri, 30 Sep 2011 05:34:42 GMT

at first i was not impressed by the J/A let's-admit-our-feelings-and-take-a-step-forward scene because i wasn't getting the J/A ~chemistry~ vibes that drew me to this ship in the first place. i mean, i loved every word Jeff was saying, but it didn't seem like he was making some sort of great admission, he was just talking.

so i decided to review previous evidence instead of relying on my memory. i went back and watched a few key scenes from the past two seasons to see if i was just imagining how electric they seemed before, but, no, all the magnetism from before was still there. so then i thought, well maybe Joel wasn't really feeling the scene and that's why it seemed flat to me. but then i had to remind myself that this is TV and that everything is intentional (and also i remembered what "actors" actually do for a living).

this brought me back to the question at hand: why was i bored with the scene? well, i supposed, i was comparing it to almost every other notable J/A scene without taking into the consideration the contextual differences between them. in the past two seasons we get a lot of brief moments and aborted conversations, and tonight we got actual adult words coming from Jeff himself. he wasn't thrust unexpectedly into i situation where he could choose to act instead of talk. he came prepared with at least a vague outline of what he wanted to say, and he said it. so when Annie asks 'can't we', as in 'can't we continue pretending to be really good friends and nothing more?' Jeff pauses and looks at Annie -- really looks at her -- and no, it's not wide-eyed and flustered Jeff from Debate or confused, but action-oriented Jeff from Pascal's Triangle Revisited, or even unexpectedly interested Jeff from that one scene near the end of English as a Second Language that i love so much. no, this is a Jeff who sees Annie as more than just someone who will disconfirm his insecurities. so maybe there's no sizzling tension between them during that long gaze (or, hell, maybe there is and i'm just missing it entirely), but i've come to the realization that that particular interaction is about more than sexual chemistry. it's about honest feelings and the expression of them, and it's beautiful just the way it is.

Nothing to Fear (except losing you)

berusama — Sat, 01 Jan 2011 21:26:25 GMT

Title: Nothing to Fear (except losing you)
Rating: G
Pairing: K/S pre-slash

Jim Kirk has never feared death. His mother believes it's because he was born within the midst of it, but regardless of anyone else’s opinions, it's not something that Jim worries about in the least. It means he has the ability and willingness to jump into the fray head-first while other people waste time saying goodbye or making plans in case of a failure to survive. Jim doesn’t necessarily commend himself for his lack of regard for his own mortality, and it doesn’t stem from an illusion of immortality. It simply is what it is: something that makes others worry needlessly once they catch on to what’s going on in Jim’s mind.

Fortunately, the only person on the Enterprise who knows him well enough to worry is Bones, but he worries about everyone, and he knows how much this captaincy means to Jim. No point in reporting reckless behavior and get command involved when he can just keep an eye on Jim himself.

So when, shortly after leaving port for a second – and much more ceremonious – time, Jim gains a partner in reckless behavior, he’s surprisingly pleased. Spock does not demand he wait to take a security team down to dangerous planets when crewmen are in peril; he simply steps up onto the transporter platform with Jim and hands his captain a phaser. And, if Jim is being honest, it’s nice to know he can count on Spock to be there with him, occasionally reminding him of the illogic of having both the captain and first officer on the away team, but never forcing him to stay behind, as Jim might have assumed he would early on in their partnership. And yes, there are times when Jim experiences first hand how stupid it is to have them both away from the ship: when they’re locked away and Jim is bleeding from the chest and all he can think of is that he hopes Spock makes it back to the Enterprise, because she needs him to be captain.

They always make it out, though, so Jim lets himself assume that Spock doesn’t fear death either, because he is always there, ready to jump as soon as Jim says it’s time.

But then Jim learns of the change in Spock’s relationship status. He learns that it was not the cleanest of breaks – which is why the one thing Jim does fear is love – and a horrible thought occurs to him. Perhaps it is not that Spock doesn't fear death. Perhaps it is that he welcomes it. Spock has lost so much in such a short amount of time and Jim does not pretend to relate, but he knows how he would feel in Spock’s place: like maybe there was nothing left to live for. Jim, of course, has the Enterprise, but he can’t assume that she means the same to Spock.

He debates bringing it up because 1: it could get awkward, or worse, emotional, and 2: he doesn’t really know how, but the longer he watches Spock, the more he worries. He starts behaving more cautiously – more like the captain Starfleet regulations expect – with the hopes that Spock will cool down too. It seems to work, at least for a little while.

But then Spock takes a poisonous barb to the chest in his place, literally pushing Jim out of the way to receive the venom himself, and Jim decides that he has to say something.

The medical bay is quiet when Jim's shift is finished. For once, there is only one patient, and Jim is glad. He wants to get this over with and a lack of an audience means they can talk here.

Spock’s eyes are closed, but Bones had assured Jim that he was awake, so he takes a seat and waits. Eventually, the half-Vulcan’s eyes open and focus on him neutrally. Jim wants to smile and ask his first officer how he is, but he keeps his expression as blank as Spock’s.

“We need to talk about today.”

Spock nods minutely. “If you will retrieve a PADD for me, I will finish my portion of the mission report now.”

“No,” Jim shakes his head, wondering if Spock really has no idea what this conversation is going to be about. “We need to talk about your sudden propensity for self-sacrifice and how that’s been affecting your performance on away missions.”

One of Spock’s eyebrows rises slightly in genuine surprise and Jim realizes that this will be more difficult than he had hoped.

“Spock,” he starts again, more gently, before Spock can respond, “I’m worried about you. I’m worried that you may have it in your head that you don’t have anything to live for, and that that perception has been directly related to some of your recent actions on away missions. I’m worried that you’re trying to get yourself killed.”

Spock stares at him for several long moments, but it is not a stare of a half-Vulcan trying to formulate a fabricated response. Instead, it is most definitely Spock’s ‘You are being highly illogical’ stare. Jim forces himself not to fidget under it.

“Jim,” Spock begins and Jim immediately knows he’s made some sort of logic faux pas. “Your conjecture is not only inaccurate, but is also desperately lacking in insight.”

“What?” Jim demands, “How much more insightful can you get?”

Spock ignores him. “I have much to live for. If it has appeared to you that my behavior during away missions is in any way reckless, I suggest that you consider your own actions first and the fact that anything I have done in the past has been to first and foremost ensure your safety.”

Now it is Jim’s turn to stare. He doesn’t know if Spock can get a read on his thoughts based on facial expression, but he probably can, so he probably knows that Jim is feeling the unfamiliar burn of flustered embarrassment. He can feel the heat creeping across his cheekbones as one thought runs through his mind on repeat: Spock doesn’t not fear his own death – he follows Jim around because he fears his captain’s death. Though he would of course deny such a Human emotion as fear, Jim can see it clearly now. It shows in the things he says and does when Jim’s hurt: in the way he calls him by his name softly, and presses his hands a little too hard to Jim’s bleeding wounds. It shows in the way he’s always ready to go even when Jim’s plans are half-formed and ill-explained. It shows now in the way Spock has become Jim’s shadow on away missions, and sometimes even during the times in between, too.

“Oh,” is all he can think to say. Spock, he can tell, wants to roll his eyes.

“I will admit that I am concerned over your conclusions. Why is it that you imagine me so swayed by the emotion of loss when its emotional opposite is considered, by your species, so much more powerful?”

“Well…” Jim hedges, still flustered, “you’re always going on about how I can’t keep analyzing other species’ actions and reactions within a Human paradigm, so…”

It’s total bullshit and Spock seems to know. “I see.”

“So… you’re not trying to get yourself killed?” Jim asks after a significant amount of awkward silence.

“Correct.”

“Awesome. Good talk.” He moves to stand, but ends up perched at the end of the chair, ready to leave but unable to.

“Indeed?” Spock teases.

“Yes. A bad talk probably would have ended with mandatory psychiatric sessions and an exceptional amount of time confined to quarters or sickbay.”

“I see.” Spock says, like he does now when Jim is being obvious or an idiot. He parts his lips like he is about to speak, but nothing comes out for several beats.

“What?” Jim prompts, still positioned to leave, and still staying.

“Does this mean you have realized that the reckless behavior is actually your own and will begin to act within regulations concerning away missions?”

Jim laughs because Spock should know better. He probably does.

“Yeah right. Why would I want to change anything when we have such a good thing going?

Spock looks at him and Jim knows the ‘you are insane’ look when he sees it.

“Jim, either you or I or both of us must be attended to medically after almost every away mission. Is this something you enjoy?”

“No,“ Jim assures him quickly, horrified momentarily that Spock would think he doesn’t care about his first officer’s well-being. “But you yourself told me that away mission casualty rates decrease by 60% when one of us is in the away team, and 80% when both of us are there. Those aren’t statistics I can just ignore.”

After a pause, Jim asks, “Would you really expect anything else from me?”

Now it is Spock’s turn to answer quickly, “No, Jim.” He pauses, and then says, “I understand,” and Jim knows that he does.

There’s something warm and tight in Jim’s chest, so he stands at last.

“Good,” he says, smiling, “It’s settled then: we’ll keep the crew alive, Bones will patch us up, you’ll keep Starfleet off my back and I’ll stop accusing you of ridiculous things like an unhealthy intent to die.”

Spock’s eyes do that funny thing that Jim thinks might be a smile on anyone else.

“Very well,” he agrees. Jim wants to offer his hand to shake and seal the deal, but settles for gripping Spock’s blanket-covered ankle instead.

“See you tomorrow.” Spock nods.

“Good night, Jim.”

Jim smiles and glances over his shoulder. “Good night, Spock.”

Fic Arc: Lessons (1,2,3,4/4) (K/S)

berusama — Mon, 20 Sep 2010 17:24:58 GMT

Title: Lessons
Rating: PG-13 to R
Pairing: gradual K/S
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters portrayed herein. No profit was made from this work of fiction.
Summary: Begins early on in the Enterprise's mission. Jim has a few things to learn about being captain.

Chapter 1: Wherein Jim learns a wariness for alien orgies

Chapter 2: Wherein Jim learns that he can't always be the hero, but it's never a bad thing to try

Chapter 3: Wherein Jim learns that even if he wants to pretend he doesn't have a birthday, no one else is going to

Chapter 4: Wherein Jim learns that nothing will keep him and Spock apart for long

ST Omegle Party Shenanigans

berusama — Sat, 05 Dec 2009 01:06:19 GMT

[8:00]
Stranger: hi f/m?
You: I have been and always shall be your friend.
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

[8:06]
Stranger: 16 male looking for girls or boys to send nudes
You: I may throw up on you.
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

[8:07]
Stranger: Hii
Stranger: asl?
You: I presume you have prepared new insults for today?
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

[8:10]
Stranger: hello
Stranger: asl?
You: James T. Kirk... How did you find me?
Stranger: do you know what omegle is? it connects with random people lol
You: I may throw up on you.
Stranger: why?
You: lol, nvm
You have disconnected.

[8:12]
Stranger: Hi im a guy on 15 need cam sex over skype?
You: I can do zat!
Stranger: f-m?
You: damnit, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a sexbot.
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

[8:14]
Stranger: asl?
You: Hi, Christopher; I'm Nero.
Stranger: shit
Stranger: fuk u
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

[8:15]
You: I presume you have prepared new insults for today?
Stranger: show me your tits
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

[8:18]
Stranger: hey
You: I presume you have prepared new insults for today?
Stranger: Not that ive checked
You: Kirk out.
You have disconnected.

[8:20]
You: I presume you have prepared new insults for today?
Stranger: NO
Stranger: wbu?
You: please reiterate.
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

[8:26]
You: I presume you have prepared new insults for today?
Stranger: hi
Stranger: m or f
You: Can I get a towel?
Stranger: m
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

[8:40]
You: I presume you have prepared new insults for today?
Stranger: No, I have not. Would you like me to insult you?
Stranger: |:
You: ...no, not really.
Stranger: Then don't ask, >_>
You: Well it was a test.
You: You failed.
You: But you failed politely.
You: So thanks for that.

[8:48]
You: I presume you have prepared new insults for today?
Stranger: star tre
Stranger: star trek
Stranger: affirmative
You: \o/
Stranger: i loved that movie
You: well if you find anyone else quoting it tonight, tell them hi from me ;)

[9:26]
Stranger: hi
You: I presume you have prepared new insults for today?
Stranger: huh?
Stranger: i don't understand
You: Well, I hate to break this to you, but Starfleet operates in space...
Stranger: mm
Stranger: i still not understand
You: That's okay; no one's perfect.

[9:31]
You: I presume you have prepared new insults for today?
Stranger: yeah, sure!
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

[9:32]
You: I presume you have prepared new insults for today?
Stranger: yes
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

[10:09]
Stranger: hey
You: I presume you have prepared new insults for today?
Stranger: i gotta take a shit
You: ...
You: Kirk out.
You have disconnected.

fic arc: Lessons (4/4) (K/S)

berusama — Sun, 30 Aug 2009 22:53:39 GMT

Title: There's Nothing Like You and I (K/S)
Rating: R
Warnings/Spoilers: Possible abuse of Shakespeare?/none
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters mentioned herein, nor am I making a profit from this work of fiction.
Summary: Jim learns that nothing will keep him and Spock apart for long.

Spock had always known that he was a singularity. The only half-Vulcan, half-Human being in existence, and for good reason. Spock's conception and birth had not been a simple matter, and his childhood on Vulcan was anything but standard. Gazing up at the stars at night, Spock would imagine lives on other planets, in other star systems. And though it was not logical, he would imagine a place where he was not an exception. Where he was accepted unconditionally by the people around him because his was not a singularity, but instead a part of the norm.

For about a month or so Spock had allowed himself to believe that he had found that place aboard the Enterprise, but this... this could not be "normal", even by Human standards. Jim was seated on a throne of silk and flora, looking vaguely embarrassed but for the grin spread across his face.

All Spock had wanted for much of his childhood, and repressed wanting for most of his adulthood, was to fit in, and yet he had managed to land himself in a career and on a Starship where standing out was a daily occurrence.

The natives were confused, that much was apparent. They thought Jim was their High God, descended from the stars, or at least that was as much as Spock had allowed himself to assume. The Universal Translator was not programmed to speak for these people, which was their only "saving grace," as Jim might say, in this Prime Directive debacle: at least no one had known about these people, and not just the members of the Enterprise.

Spock watched from the back of the crowd, largely ignored ever since Jim smiled at these highly impressionable people. Which was not an unprecedented occurrence, given the pure charisma Jim exuded, but never had the ensuing events taken such a drastic turn.

Jim was making significant eye contact with him, trying to convey a message of the 'Oh God, help me' variety. Spock was, however, unwilling to attempt a rescue at the risk of upsetting the people who had placed Jim on his throne. The most favorable scenario would be for Jim to remain calm and charming until his new devotees had retired for the evening, at which time Spock, Jim and the rest of the landing party would beam back to the ship. Until then, Jim would just have to endure the attention. Somehow, Spock was certain he would survive.

It took another thirty-four hours before Spock was kneeling over his sleeping captain. His face, already considered attractive by many, was dusted lightly with a beautiful gold powder and it smeared easily under Spock's fingertips. Jim inhaled deeply, turning his face into Spock's touch and rolling onto his back.

"Hey," he rasped, eyes blinking open slowly. "I thought you'd never show up."

"That was an illogical thought," Spock admonished gently.

Jim smiled and Spock could feel his humor, and confidence in Spock's ability to save the day, push through their points of contact. Under that he could also feel Jim's acknowledgment of the 'moment'.

They were curious things, these 'moments'. Spock had learned to identify them based on social cues so subtle one might not think Humans capable of them. From what he could deduce -- as Jim had not explained and he had not asked -- 'moments' were points in everyday life when a display of emotional attachment, affection, and or desire may be expressed by one or both parties involved. The fascinating thing about 'moments', however, was that if they were not acted upon, everyday life continued on as though they had never existed at all. It was perhaps unfair that Spock had been purposely not acting on these 'moments' purely because they were intriguing, but he wished to continue to study their appearance.

The 'moments' had begun three weeks ago after the 26th anniversary of Jim's birthday, and had since increased in frequency exponentially. What was most fascinating about the 'moments' was that they were not 'awkward' -- an entirely different phenomenon that Jim had explained many times and Spock was finally starting to be able to identify accurately. Based on Jim's coaching on the subject, one might presume 'moments' to be 'awkward' for those involved, but instead every time a 'moment' passed without action on either of their parts Spock could sense only anticipation and pleasure from Jim.

It was highly illogical, and yet Spock could not find sufficient motivation to cease his experiment. His hypothesis: that some day soon Jim's patience and control would expire and Spock would experience first hand the aftermath of action taken during a 'moment'. It was for this scientifically anthropological reason alone that he allowed himself to echo Jim's clear feelings of anticipation every time a 'moment' came and went.

"Maybe," Jim said, his voice low and teasing. 'Teasing' was another phenomenon that Spock had become more familiar with than he may have originally wished. Nyota had introduced him to the act, but never had she employed it as much as Jim did, not even when they were romantically involved.

"If you are finished here, Captain, the landing party is quite ready to return to the ship." Jim smirked gently and it was possible that Spock had been so exposed to 'teasing' that he had begun to employ it himself.

"Yeah," Jim agreed, sitting up and successively releasing himself and Spock from the 'moment', "Let's get out of here."

Back aboard the ship, Jim ordered the entire landing party 'to bed' immediately.

"That goes for you too, Mr. Spock," the captain said once they were alone in the shuttle bay.

"And you, Captain?"

"Hell yes," he laughed, cutting his eyes to Spock, "as soon as I shower, anyway." He swiped the back of his hand across his forehead and it came away smeared with gold.

They rode the lift to the officers' quarters and Spock anticipated the presence of another 'moment' in approximately 3.5 Earth minutes.

"Well this is me," Jim said once they had exited the lift, gesturing down the hall towards his quarters. "We can write up a report tomorrow when I'm less gold and have had the chance to sleep in an actual bed."

"I will write my portion tonight so as to expedite the process," Spock offered.

"Or," Jim said with a teasing smile, "you can get some sleep -- since I know that you probably didn't on the planet -- and we can write it together tomorrow."

"Is that what you would prefer?" Spock asked. The tension between them was nearly palpable as Jim shifted closer to Spock.

"Yes," he answered, completely serious.

Spock conceded with a soft, "Very well," and Jim smiled.

"Thanks," he said and Spock knew somehow that he was thanking him for more than his compliance on this matter.

"No thanks are required," Spock responded. Jim shifted again, and the 'moment' was upon them: heavy and all-encompassing. Spock returned Jim's stare as it moved past social eye-contact and into gazing. And then Jim's eyes darted down to his mouth. Spock's reaction was intense enough to force a quick inhale of breath. Jim heard it and rocked back a little, his tongue darting out in a way that usually indicated nervousness.

Spock had allowed himself to presume early on that it was some form of nerves that have kept a man so confident as Jim Kirk from acting upon their 'moments,' but no evidence had come up until now. It was possible, Spock thought suddenly, that Jim was waiting for some sort of non-verbal sign from Spock indicating that emotional and even romantic expressions would be welcomed by the half-Vulcan. He had, of course, given no such indication, choosing instead to study the Human 'moments'.

He was considering what such a sign would look like when Jim shifted again, closer still, and Spock's thought process ended abruptly. Being this near to Jim was like being near one of Earth's oceans: cooler in temperature than Spock thought he would enjoy, but refreshing and captivating nonetheless. From here Spock could see the light sun spots across the bridge of Jim's nose and cheek bones. He looked young, younger than he had in months and Spock's eyes involuntarily move down to Jim's lips. They were parted and damp still.

"Spock..." Jim said, like he was about to ask a question, but just then another voice interrupted.

"Bridge to Captain Kirk," Chekov's voice sounded from Jim's hip. The captain blinked and his face performed a complicated expression of emotion, of which Spock was only able to identify a few.

"Kirk here," he said into his communicator, shifting away from Spock minutely.

"Captain, the long-range sensors have picked up gravitational indications of a planet in the exact location Commander Spock calculated last week. We will arrive at the planet in twelve hours, should we maintain our current warp speed."

"Very good, Chekov," Jim said, smiling faintly at Spock, "maintain current velocity."

"Aye, Captain."

Jim put his communicator away and when his eyes returned to Spock's they were full of humor and silent acceptance.

"I'm, uh," he started to say, but laughed quietly and shifted back again, "I'll see you tomorrow, Spock."

"Goodnight, Captain," was all Spock could think to say before Jim was gone.

- - -

This was the shit Jim Kirk lived for. He stood on the transporter pad next to Spock, heart pounding the way it always did before an away mission.

Initial scans had confirmed this unnamed planet as Class M, and the readings that had come back with the probe promised temperate weather and lush foliage, at least in the area they were beaming down to.

"Ready when you are, Scotty," he said, sneaking a glace at Spock. It had taken some pretty persuasive arguing to get Spock to break regulations and join the away team with him, but surprisingly less than Jim was prepared to present. There was meaning to be dug up there, but he let it be for now, just glad that the awkward from last night hadn't carried over to this morning. Not that Spock could pick up on an awkward situation over a comfortable one, but Jim held hope for him still.

"Aye, Captain," Scotty replied, engaging the transporter systems, "Have a nice trip."

They touched down in the middle of a dense forest, full of activity and sounds. Immediately, Spock began scanning their surroundings as the rest of the away team spread out in a quick security check. Jim counted his men, all accounted for, and grinned at the nearest security personnel.

"Shall we?" he asked, not bothering to contain his glee.

Thompson smiled back, surprisingly non-patronizing for a man ten years Jim's senior, and motioned for Jim to lead the way.

The going was slow through the thick foliage of the alien forest, but the activity around them more than made up for their lack of traveling progress, as Spock was stopping to scan something every two seconds anyway.

"Fascinating," Spock murmured to himself as he scanned the exposed roots of some flora that kind of resembled a tree. If you squinted your eyes and didn't look at them individually.

Jim smiled. Spock was always fun to watch when he was enraptured and focused so intently on one thing. He could be so single-minded sometimes, obsessive, even. Secretly, Jim attributed it to Spock's Human half and thought him all the more attractive whenever Spock accidentally let his obsessions show.

Spock glanced up, catching Jim's stare and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Hm?" Jim asked innocently, looking around like it had been someone else staring and not him. Spock blinked impassively and returned his attention to the tree, but Jim knew this dance and translated accordingly: You are strange to me, but pleasing as well.

They were Spock's own words, actually, and Jim liked to mentally attach them to each and every non-verbal exchange be and Spock had. It made him feel less like a coward for not having made a move on Spock yet and more like he was purposely playing hard-to-get.

Jim wondered briefly if Spock was familiar with the concept of playing hard-to-get and then decided that now was really not the time to worry about what Spock thought of their almost-relationship. What mattered was that there was something between them; something new and frightening, but mostly exciting and one of these days Jim was going to find the courage to actually do something about it.

Until then, he'd be content with reminding himself that Spock thought he was 'pleasing' and try not to make their missed moments any more awkward than they had to be.

No sooner had he conceded that there were probably more pressing things to worry about than a shout sounded from near by followed shortly by the sounds of someone running off into the forest ahead of them.

Jim took off in the direction of the shouting, Spock right behind him. They crashed into a clearing just in time to see Thompson running into the foliage after... Jim stopped and stared, not quite sure what was going on.

"Did you just see..." he trailed off, not quite sure what he had seen himself, but Spock nodded anyway. They exchanged a brief look and then began running again, across the clearing and into the forest where they had seen the senior security officer disappear after something vaguely Human, but for the green skin and translucent wings.

Both Thompson and the creature were gone, however, and did not reappear no matter how far they walked, or how loudly Jim yelled. It would have been a simpler thing to use their communicators, but those had mysteriously disappeared, something that neither Jim nor Spock could remember happening.

"Captain," Spock said after nearly an hour of searching. "I suggest we return to the clearing we came upon earlier and build a fire for the night. We do not know what lives in the forest or what may awaken after nightfall."

Jim sighed, worried and angry, but he could see the logic behind Spock's suggestion.

"Alright," he agreed, turning back to Spock. "Can you get us back there?"

"Of course," Spock said gently and if Jim didn't know better, he might think Spock was trying to make him feel better. He smiled weakly and fell into step with his first officer.

- - -

Oberon opened and closed the strange devise, enjoying the chirping sounds it made.

"You say you took this from aliens?" he asked the changeling, who nodded eagerly. "It's been awhile since we had visitors. Not since you were a baby, in fact."

The changeling did not know what his King spoke of, but nodded anyway.

"Perhaps," the King continued, flipping the devise open again to hear it's noises, "we should celebrate. An anniversary of sorts. To commemorate those fateful days." He turned and addressed the woman to his left. "What do you say, my dear?"

She smirked and gathered the changeling into her lap, brushing its long hair out of its eyes. "So long as there are no donkeys involved, you may do what you wish. You always do."

Oberon laughed. How right she was.

"Call Puck for me, boy," he said to the changeling who jumped out of Titania's lap. "And tell him to bring the flower. We're going to have some fun."

- - -

When the away team failed to check in at the appointed time, Leonard talked Scotty into putting him on the second landing party. In case Jim or someone else was hurt. Not because Nyota was going too.

She'd called him out on his 'Southern chivalry' before, but this was more than wanting her to be safe. People had disappeared and whatever had forced them to miss the check-in was probably still a threat down there. These were the arguments Leonard was prepared to make when Nyota shot him a look after volunteering himself, but after a beat she redirected her attention and left it at that.

The beaming process was unpleasant, per usual, but it deposited them into a clearing in the forest, which was -- conveniently enough -- where the most life forms had been located. The number had been fluctuating from two, to six, to three and back to two, while the second away team had been preparing to beam down, and unfortunately none of them could be confirmed as Starfleet officers without the communicator frequencies which had been disturbingly absent.

"Alright, spread out people. We search his clearing first, and then head into the forest. Phasers set to stun; keep your communicators at hand and open," the security officer ordered and Leonard wanted to protest this splitting up business, but Nyota was already walking away.

Leonard watched where she was heading, but he wasn't going to follow her. Someone should probably head in that direction too, though.

Spock woke to the soft sounds of someone calling his name. He was surprised for a moment that he had slept at all, but the surprise was quickly overrun by confusion and mild disgust at whatever substance seemed to be covering his eyelids. He wiped them off carefully and then blinked his eyes open to see Nyota hurrying towards him in the dark.

Spock's world narrowed to the sight of her kneeling next to him, smiling beautifully and asking if he was okay. And though he could hear Jim stirring awake next to him, Spock could not help but lean forward and kiss her gently.

Jim thought that maybe he was still dreaming. He'd had dreams like this during the beginning of his captaincy, back when he'd thought Spock hated him and probably had the perfect relationship with Uhura. Neither of those things turned out to be true, but no one would know that now, watching Spock kiss Uhura like his life depended on it. Uhura, for her part, seemed too stunned to do much more than freeze in place and wait for the half-Vulcan to pull back.

"Spock?" Jim heard himself ask pathetically. Spock broke the kiss but did not move far.

"Nyota," Spock whispered so softly and full of love that Jim's knee-jerk reaction was to roll his eyes and make gagging noises like he was back in elementary school. He didn't, mostly because he was to busy trying not to punch Spock in the fucking face, but it was a close call.

"What the fuck is going on?" Jim demanded, finally gaining Spock's attention. The half-Vulcan looked at him impassively and Jim hadn't been subject to that much indifference from his first officer since... well, since he and Uhura had broken up. "Spock... what the hell?"

"I would have thought that much was obvious, Captain," Spock answered, his voice flat and so straight-forward it was almost painful to hear. "I no longer desire a romantic relationship with you." Then he turned back to Uhura and said, seriously as you please, "Nyota I am highly interested in restarting our relationship, perhaps even including the sexual congress you so desired before its original termination."

Jim wanted to laugh. And Uhura, judging from the look on her face, wanted to cry.

"Spock, I don't..." she trailed off, obviously distressed, and Bones picked that exact moment to show up.

"You found them!" he said, jogging up and immediately running his scanner over Jim's torso. An awkward silence descended which Bones became aware of gradually. He looked up from his tricorder slowly, almost warily, and looked at each of them in turn. "What's going on?"

Both Jim and Uhura turned to look at Spock who was glaring at Bones.

"Doctor, I understand that you have been pursuing a romantic and sexual relationship with Lt. Uhura, but your attentions are no longer appreciated or desired. Please desist."

"What?" Bones growled, while Uhura stood up and took a step away from the group.

"Spock," she said, reprimand and bewilderment clear in her voice. "What's gotten into you?"

Jim watched from the ground as Spock and Bones stood too, and began arguing over Uhura as she vehemently interjected that she could fight her own battles and would they both just shut up? He still wanted to laugh, but more than that he wanted to get up and walk into the forest and never come out. Embarrassment burned under the misery of hearing that voice in the back of his head say 'I told you so'. He'd been treating Spock like he thought he knew how his first felt about him, and now he could see the stupidity in that. What kind of moron projected their own feelings on to a Vulcan and came out of it without a broken heart?

"I'm gonna go," he said to no one, and took off towards the voices across the clearing.

"Captain!" Lt. Tolu exclaimed, his ears perking forward in greeting. "Where is Thompson?"

"I'm not sure, but we'll find him. How many did you beam down with?" Jim asked, slipping into his role with only a little difficulty.

"Five, sir."

"Alright, get these people back on the Enterprise. I don't want anyone else disappearing on me. We'll scan for the rest of the landing party from orbit."

"Aye, sir," the security officer answered, already flipping open his communicator.

It was then that everything started to go to Hell. Out of no where, a hooved creature jumped between them and plucked the communicator right out of Tolu's hand, startling them both when it cackled loudly and began to run off. At the same time Uhura shouted, "Spock, no!" and Jim turned just in time to see Spock hoist Uhura onto his shoulder, Bones crumpled to the ground at his feet.

Those field exercises had apparently paid off after all, because while his instinct screamed at him to go after Spock, his brain forced him to pull out his phaser and stun the creature before it could make off with their link to the Enterprise.

Once the communicator was safely back in his hands, Jim whipped around to stun Spock, but he was gone.

"Fuck!" Jim cursed, flipping open the communicator. "Scotty!"

"Aye, Captain?" Scotty answered, obviously confused as to why he was being yelled at. Jim tried to take a calming breath.

"I need you to beam up all life-forms in this clearing. Now." He cut the connection and ten seconds later, gold lights began to circle everyone in the clearing, including the stunned creature at his feet.

"Get this thing to the brig," he demanded once they were back on the Enterprise, kicking at the unconscious creature. "And get McCoy to sick bay. Scotty I want you to locate any other life forms within a six kilometer radius of where we beamed down this morning, and where you beamed us up from just now."

"Aye, Captain," Scotty answered, wisely not asking any questions before getting to work.

Jim watched Tolu lift the unconscious creature with ease and remove it from the transporter room as McCoy's staff lifted him onto a gurney.

“Notify me as soon as he’s awake,” Jim demanded, already following Tolu to the brig. He studied the creature his security officer was carrying as they walked, recognizing it somehow, but unwilling to jump to conclusions just yet. It was amazing, really, that when Spock wasn’t around Jim’s demeanor changed just enough to compensate. It meant he had grown as a person and a leader. Which was great, he was sure, but he preferred having Spock around anyway.

“Does this creature look familiar to you?” he asked Tolu as soon as the Rastin had activated the brig chamber shields.

“No, sir,” he answered, but that wasn’t a shock. If Tolu had recognized it, Jim probably wouldn’t have and every time Jim looked at the thing he got a distinct sense that he’d seen it before.

“Alright,” Jim said, pulling out his communicator and taking a quick snap shot of the alien. “Alert me as soon as it wakes.”

Tolu nodded and assumed parade rest; Jim considered telling him to relax, but at a time like this, he actually appreciated the Rastin’s constant professionalism. It was an excellent reminder of what he needed to emulate right now: unwavering control and professionalism. He almost smiled to himself as he made his way to engineering -- what he needed right now was Spock.

“Scotty,” he called as soon as he entered the transporter room, “please tell me you have good news.”

“Aye, sir,” Scotty smiled, “I’m picking up several life form readings, just waiting on you to say where to begin.”

Jim rounded the console to see the readings for himself.

“Let’s start here,” he said, selecting a small area of the map that contained two life readings. One was running hotter than the other and Jim could only hope that it was Spock.

He was tempted to just jump on the transporter pad and go alone, but if Spock was here, he never would have allowed that. Instead he called for two security officers and strapped a phaser to his waist.

They were ready to go soon enough, and Jim said ‘energize’, his heart pounding just a little faster than was usual for away missions.

Touch-down was easy, and Jim immediately pulled his weapon. He motioned for the security officers with him to do the same, set to stun.

“If you see Commander Spock, stun him,” Jim said lowly as they began to move through the brush. “I don’t care if he looks and acts completely normal, stun him and get him back on the Enterprise. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” his men said in unison. Normally Jim would have laughed at that, but he was channeling Spock and Spock certainly wouldn’t have laughed. He checked the tricorder he’d brought along instead.

“This way,” he said, and began to creep towards the life-readings.

They heard the voices long before they saw either person, mostly because Uhura was shouting at what he presumed to be Spock.

“-what the hell is going on, Spock, but you need to stop! We’re not together anymore for a reason!”

Jim began to run until he could hear Spock too.

“-opposed to our separation originally. Secondly, Doctor McCoy is a volatile and prejudiced Human at best; he is not an ideal mate for an extraordinary Human being just as yourself. I, on the other hand,-”

Jim stunned him before he could finish his, surely logical, counter argument.

“Captain!” Uhura exclaimed, partially incredulous, but mostly relieved.

Jim ignored her in favor of kneeling next to Spock and pulling out his communicator. “Kirk to Enterprise,” he said, while checking for a pulse. Of course it was there, but Jim felt himself relax as soon as he was able to put his hand to it. “Are you alright?” he asked, directing his attention to his communications officer. She nodded just as Scotty’s voice came over the link.

“Ready to beam up?”

“Yes; all five of us,” Jim answered. He looked down at Spock and added, “And make sure there’s someone in the transporter room who can carry Spock to the brig. I doubt stunning him will have helped the situation any.”

- - -

The first thing Spock noticed after waking on the floor of a brig cell was the unbearable gaping feeling in his chest at being parted from Nyota. There was a part of his brain that acknowledged the illogic of such a sentiment -- of any sentiment, really, but this one especially -- but such worries seemed to pale in comparison to the extent of his suffering.

“Lieutenant Tolu,” he said, standing as the officer turned to face him. “Please lower the cell shield; I am in a much more stable condition now.”

Tolu gave him a quick once-over and Spock attempted to look as convincing and intimidating as possible, but Tolu had been a Big-Man on his home world and as such was not easily intimidated, if at all. It was something Spock often appreciated about the officer: it meant less time spent on preoccupation over the proceedings of away missions, when the captain was with the Rastin.

Spock replayed that particular thought process. The only person’s well-being with whom he was currently concerned was Nyota’s; why did he feel such a strangely grateful appreciation for a man who he knew he could count on to protect the captain?

“Pardon me, Commander, but I find that difficult to believe. Currently, you appear quite ill and confused.” Tolu’s words pulled Spock from his mental musings. “Please excuse me while I notify the captain of your condition.”

Spock nodded, finding it difficult to be upset with the Rastin’s perpetual politeness.

“Tolu to the bridge.”

Spock sat on the bunk and took in his surroundings with careful attention to detail. He had never been on this side of the brig cells before.

“Kirk here,” came the captain’s voice and Spock’s mind swam with a sudden onslaught of confusion and dizziness.

“Commander Spock is awake and unwell,” Tolu said.

There was as quiet curse from the Rastin’s communicator and then the captain said, “I’ll be right there.”

“Jim,” Spock whispered, trying to massage the ache from his head; something was wrong in his own mind, but he couldn’t think past the muddling confusion to correct it.

On the bridge, Jim was just about to step into the turbo lift when Lt. Uhura called for his attention.

“I’m receiving a transmission,” she said, not taking her eyes from the console screen, “but I don’t immediately recognize the language. It is coming from the planet, though.”

“Let me know as soon as you can decipher it,” Jim ordered and left the con with Sulu.

He tried not to feel too upset or anxious. It was pointless, really, because whenever something happened to Spock it was Jim’s automatic reaction to feel upset and anxious. There was also an element of sick nervousness which was new, but understandable and somewhat embarrassing: caring for someone so much that their disapproval or rejection made you ill was kind of pathetic. And worrying. Jim had come to the tentative conclusion -- partly out of confidence in Spock, and partly out of egotistical self-confidence -- that something had happened to the half-Vulcan on the planet to cause his sudden shift in behavior. But if what had caused Spock’s actions really was just a change of heart in the Vulcan -- Jim snorted mentally at his own idiom choice -- then he wasn’t quite sure how he was going to make it out of this one wholly sane.

That realization was fairly mortifying, but he could analyze it later. Right now he had to deal with the way Spock was rubbing at his temples like his head was killing him.

“Spock?” he called softly, and not quite as professionally as he’d have liked.

Spock’s head lifted and he said, “Jim,” before pain flashed through his eyes and he dropped his head to his hands again.

“Spock!” Jim’s hands smacked into the cell force-field before he could think to simply take it down. Fortunately all he had to do was nod at Tolu, who was already waiting at the controls, and then he was kneeling in front of Spock, trying to peer at his face. “Spock, what’s wrong?”

“I do not know,” Spock gritted out, eyes clenched shut against the pain. Jim put his hands on either side of Spock’s face and rubbed his thumbs against the his temples soothingly.

In this position, he had the perfect view of Spock’s face when Uhura’s voice came over Jim’s communicator with news about the transmission: the pain immediately cleared from his face and he stood, shoving Jim to the ground and stealing his communicator in one swift movement.

“Spock!” Jim shouted, trying to force as much authority into his voice as he could over the hurt. Spock faltered only enough to send Tolu flying across the brig as he took over the cell controls and raised the force-field in front of Jim. “Spock! Damnit!” Jim yelled, fists slamming into the shield again, this time from the other side of the cell.

Tolu recovered quickly and soon enough both he and Jim were chasing after Spock who was presumably headed for the bridge.

Alone in the brig, Puck smiled to himself. “How interesting,” he said, and stepped out of the cell that’s force-field had been accidentally lowered in all of the commotion. He closed his eyes and when they opened again, he was in his old guise as Robin Goodfellow, this time dressed as a Starfleet officer. He smiled to himself mischievously and took off to join the mayhem.

The bridge, when he arrived, was pure chaos. The pointy-eared one whose eyes he had treated stood with his arm around the waist of a beautiful woman dressed in red. She appeared quite distressed around the eyes, but her posture was straight and her fists were clenched as though anger was not very far off.

The captain, whose part was that of the slighted lover in this rendition, was trying to negotiate everyone present into some state of calm, while he himself was barely holding onto his own emotional controls.

There were about ten different people trying to speak at once and from what he could tell, about five of those voices had something of relative importance to say.

“-his form and left the brig just after you did, sir...” one of the helmsmen was saying, his young face distressed.

“-willing to help Spock if we bring him and the prisoner to the planet’s surface,” the woman was shouting at the captain, who was trying to pay attention to her, and about three other crewmen at once.

“Fine,” the captain said to the woman, grabbing ahold of a man in blue who looked mad enough to turn his anger physical, “just get him to the transporter room. Chekov, pull up an image of what the prisoner looks like now and broadcast it to the ship. Tolu, start at the brig and work your way out. Bones, calm the fuck down!”

The man in blue ceased struggling, but didn’t stop scowling at the pointy-eared one as the woman in red put a hand on his chest and tried to convince him to go to the transporter room with her.

“Broadcasting now, captain,” the helmsman said, and before Puck could stop himself he was laughing at his own image plastered across every console.

The bridge became eerily quiet as Puck laughed and, having given himself away anyway, he quickly reverted to his own, more comfortable form.

“Who is it that’s negotiating my return, then?” he asked, chuckling again at the bugged-out eyes of those around him. “I highly doubt it’s His or Her Majesties. It’s the boy, isn’t it?”

When no one bothered to answer, Puck rolled his eyes and moved back to the lift. The strange one with iridescent skin and big ears who had kept watch over him in his prison cell shadowed his movement, a weapon pointed casually at Puck’s chest.

“What boy?” the captain asked in the now silence of the bridge.

“The Queen’s boy. The King’s paige. My apprentice. Knowing him he’s probably gathered the rest of your lost men too. Sentimental little thing, he is.”

The captain’s cold eyes bore into Puck’s for several long moments and then he turned to the strange one with the weapon and nodded. Puck’s arm was seized and he was marched ceremoniously to a new level of wherever he was.

“Scotty,” the captain was saying behind him as Puck was forced up on to a platform, “If we’re lucky we’ll be trading this one for the three men who are still on the planet’s surface. If that’s the case, I want those three and Spock and Uhura beamed up first. Tolu, McCoy and I will come up next.”

“Aye, captain,” the man answered, already tapping at his console.

Puck almost wanted to laugh at the image they made on this platform, so serious and yet barely holding on to their careful composure. Oberon was going to love this tale, Puck was sure.

The first thing Jim noticed after touching down in the meadow from the night before was his three security officers and the relieved looks and all their faces.

The next was the small blue child with four arms and slanting eyes that made Jim shiver involuntarily. It made a loud trilling noise and launched itself at their hoofed prisoner. He caught the child easily and smiled, though it looked like he was trying hard not to.

“Now you’ll undo what you did to Spock,” Jim said, no room to misinterpret his words as a question.

“Unfortunately, no,” the creature said, and Jim’s temper spiked, “you’ll get that honor.”

“What?” Jim spat, confusion not helping to temper his anger.

He looked at the child who presented him with a white flower from nowhere.

“Wait until he sleeps and then squeeze this flower’s juice onto his eyes. When he wakes he will be without the influence which he is under now.”

Behind him, Spock murmured something to Uhura, but Jim couldn’t focus on that right now. “And if that doesn’t work?” Jim asked, not really wanting to think about what the fuck he would do then.

“It will,” the creature said, smirking infuriatingly. “You’ll just have to trust my word.”

Jim stared him down for several seconds before stepping up to the creature, right into his personal space. “If it doesn’t work,” he said lowly, “I will hunt you down. On that, you can trust my word.”

The creature laughed and Jim stepped back.

“It was an honor to meet you, Captain Kirk,” he said, and then he was gone, bounding for the tree-line with the child still in his arms. One small blue hand waved at them and then they were gone.

Jim stared for a beat and then looked back at his crew members. They looked tired and wary, just like he felt.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said with a smile he didn’t feel and hailed Scotty.

Spock sat on the edge of Nyota’s bed, awaiting her return. She had been called away by the captain and Spock was attempting very hard not to think about what they could be discussing, because every time he thought of Jim his head hurt unbearably.

It had taken much arguing and quiet assurance from Nyota -- which Spock had not been pleased with -- until McCoy had left them alone for the night. He was exhausted, but he would not sleep until he knew Nyota had returned to him.

He was idly listing prime numbers in his mind to keep from thinking of what the captain could want with her when the door chimed and then opened.

Nyota smiled at him and crossed the room to place a white flower on the bedside table.

“Are you tired?” she asked, and Spock reached out to draw her nearer. She was stiff in his embrace, but rested her hands in his hair eventually.

“Yes,” Spock answered. “Will you join me?”

Her gaze flew to the flower and back to him, and she nodded. “I’ll share my bed, but just for sleep, Spock. I’m very tired.”

Spock nodded, in understanding if not complete agreement of her restrictions. She was, no doubt, wary of him still. Though their separation had been ultimately mutually agreed upon, he was the one who had introduced the topic, to her initial disagreement.

Spock waited for her to enter her bathroom before undressing and moving under the bedclothes.

When she joined him several minutes later, Spock’s final thoughts before sleep were that he would simply have to prove his love in the most basic and obvious ways possible. What those ways would be, he would meditate on later.

She watched Spock wake from across the room, at her desk. Immediately, his hands went to his eyes, and he wiped the flower’s juice from his eyelids before opening them slowly.

She saw the moment he remembered everything. It looked painful and not, she knew, for her sake. When he sat up and found her, she smiled sympathetically.

“How are you feeling?”

Spock hesitated, still inherently uncomfortable with that particular question.

“The sate of my mind and... other faculties seem to have return to normal,” he answered eventually, like talking about his heart was a metaphor that was beneath him. That was one thing she’d never miss.

“Good,” she responded, and waited.

“Nyota,” he said after he had examined everything in the room and had no choice but to look at her again, “I apologize for my actions and words while under the influence of the alien substance. I will understand if you do not wish to be near me.”

She laughed and crossed the room to sit at the edge of her own bed. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself,” she said as gently as possibly, smiling to show him she was teasing. “I’m fine, Spock. If there’s anyone you should be apologizing to and then avoiding it’s Leonard.”

A distasteful look crossed Spock’s face. “Indeed,” he said, and she knew no such apology would be forthcoming, though the advice of avoidance would certainly be taken into consideration.

“Also,” she said, even more gently, “You should probably go see Jim.”

Spock’s eyes fell to the bed spread and never had she seen a more tragic expression of regret than his face in that moment. Her heart broke for him and she gathered him into a hug, making quiet soothing noises that he probably couldn’t interpret.

“I know for a fact he’s not upset with you, Spock,” she said softly. “He’s only worried that this will have somehow changed your mind about you and him.”

Spock’s head shot up from her shoulder and he looked confused for all of three seconds before seeming to remember that 1) Nyota was very good at getting the captain to speak his mind candidly and 2) there was hardly ever any logic to the emotions and worries of Humans.

“I must-” he began, but Nyota was already standing and handing him his folded clothes.

Once he was dressed, he turned back to her and said, “Thank you, Nyota,” with enough emotion it nearly brought tears to her eyes.

“You’re welcome,” she answered and watched him leave, a quickness to his steps that was usually never there.

She took a moment to sigh and then dressed. Ten minutes later, she was standing in the doorway of Leonard’s office, being steadily ignored.

He remained hunched over his desk even as she stepped inside and let the door slide shut behind her. It was a little ridiculous, really, how much she put up with from the men aboard this ship.

“Leonard,” she said softly, carding her fingers through his disheveled hair. He stilled and after a moment leaned back in his chair to look up at her. There were dark circles under his eyes, as though he had not yet gone to bed.

He cleared his throat and asked, “How is he?” in a rough voice.

“He’s fine. Left almost as soon as he’d woken up to go find Jim,” she answered, brushing her thumb under one of his tired eyes. He sighed and let his eyes flutter shut. Like he had been honestly worried; like he thought that she would jump at any chance to be with Spock again.

“Do you want to talk about this?” she asked, but of course he shook his head no. She smiled and tried again, “Do you mind if I say a few words, then?”

He hesitated but shook his head again. She eyed his chair briefly before sliding onto his lap. His eyes flew open and he locked his arm immediately around her waist to keep her from falling off.

“Spock and I had a conversation before we broke up,” she began, forcing him to keep eye contact with a gently hand, “And in the end, the decision was mutual. He was going to leave for the colony, to help repopulate his race, but he stayed. Not for me, but for the ship. For his position. For Jim, really, because by then things had changed so much. There was no way we could go back to what we were. I had accepted that by the time you gathered the courage to ask me to dinner.” He grumbled quietly, but the tension was leaving his eyes. “I wasn’t looking for a rebound partner, and I certainly wasn’t looking for some Spock-replacement. I’m not with you because you remind me of him, or because you’re nothing like him. I’m with you because you’re sweet and smart and annoyingly chivalrous, and because I know that you’ll be there for me when I need you.”

Leonard swallowed and cut his eyes to the side. He was nearly as bad with strong emotion as Spock, though she’d never tell him that for fear of incurring his haughty wrath.

“I, uh...” he tried to start, but looked up at her again instead and there was something there that made Nyota sigh and lean down to press her lips to his. His fingers found their way into her hair and she had to wrap her arms around his neck to keep from sliding to the ground.

“You need a bigger chair,” she laughed against his lips and he laughed too before standing abruptly, one arm under her legs and the other at her back. She laughed again, startled and loud, and let him set her down on his desk.

When she looked up at him after clearing the space underneath her, his throat was working like maybe he was going to say something after all.

“Nyota...” he began gruffly, threading his fingers through hers. His mouth worked wordlessly for several moments and then he looked up. “I don’t know if now is the time to say this, but I wanted to warn you that... that I’m falling in love with you,” he finished so softly it was almost a whisper.

There were probably words that were better suited for this situation, but at the moment all Nyota could do was smile. Based on Leonard’s reaction to her smile, however -- a devastating kiss that ended in a heap on the desk -- he’d understood her just fine.

Jim was not in his quarters. Spock was slightly relieved because they needed to exchange words and such an exchange would most likely not take place in a room where Jim’s bed was so readily accessible. They had not shared a Human nor even a Vulcan kiss yet, but if he was being honest about the emotions roiling in his chest at the moment, such expressions of desire and more were not far off.

The ship computer in the corridor informed him that the captain was currently on observation deck 6, a guess Spock probably could have made himself had he stopped to think properly. Instead he quickly made his way to the nearest lift.

Outside the observation deck, Spock took one steadying breath and then stepped up to the doors, expecting them to slide open soundlessly.

They did not.

Spock worried for a moment that this was a sign that the captain wished to be alone, no matter who came to see him. As captain, however, Jim would have been able to program entrance specifics; if he wanted only Spock to be able to enter, the computer would keep everyone else out.

Slowly, Spock raised his hand and placed it against the biometrics scanner. Almost before he could hope, the red light flashed green and the doors opened for him.

Jim turned at the sound of the door closing again behind Spock and they stared at each other until Jim broke the silence with an unsteady, “Hey.”

Spock was across the room and had Jim pressed against the observation railing within a matter of seconds. He held their bodies mere inches apart as he dipped his head and placed the most Human of kisses on Jim’s lips.

After a startled pause of 1.3 Earth seconds, Jim made a soft sound and surged forward, wrapping his arms around Spock’s neck and shoulders.

Spock became aware, slowly, of his own name being whispered between them with every exhale Jim breathed into his mouth. Spock slowed the frantic kisses to a steady press of lips and then gently broke the kiss.

“Jim, I would like to apologize-” he tried to stay, but was cut off by another kiss.

“’s okay,” Jim whispered. “Wasn’t your fault. Just kiss me.”

Spock almost protested but then Jim’s hand cupped his neck and he could feel the relief coming off him in waves: relief that the second flower had worked, relief that he had his first officer back, relief that Spock still wanted this from him, relief that the regret from never having done this sooner was gone now. There were still words Spock needed to say, but he realized now that they could wait. Jim was never one for words when actions would suffice, anyway.

He took half a step closer to Jim and the relief in Jim’s mind made a quick turn-around to unrelenting and irrepressible want. It pulsed into Spock’s mind like his own heartbeat and soon they were matched in strength and the way they moved Spock’s blood to anywhere but his mind. He regretted, now, that he had not found Jim in his quarters. Despite his best intentions, they had done very little talking, as he should have predicted regardless of the location.

“Jim,” he began, meaning to suggest a move to either of their quarters, but with the name his own hips pushed forward into the hard heat of Jim’s groin and he ended up greedily swallowing Jim’s groan instead.

The situation quickly dissolved from there until they were both on the floor and carefully, slowly, pressing up and into each other again and again. Jim gently licked and then bit at his ear, and Spock’s smooth thrusting faltered to a stop.

Jim’s low laughter in his ear cut through the haze of lust that had clouded his mind and Spock pulled back just enough to see Jim’s darkened eyes.

The ‘moment’ that followed was unlike any other that Spock had experienced with Jim. It was more, somehow -- heavier and strangely powerful. Jim cut his eyes away and swallowed.

“So I’m glad you came to your senses,” he said, his voice deep and rasping. Spock raised an eyebrow but did not comment on the way the continuing sense of pure relief pushing through from Jim to Spock at ever point of contact undermined those flippantly spoken words. “If that flower hadn’t worked, my next plan of action was to be even more charming and seductive so as to win you over again. But then half of the Enterprise probably would have fallen for me too, and that would have just been awkward.”

Spock briefly considered playing along -- yet another Human phenomenon that he was marginally better at than teasing -- but said instead, “I am sure you would have succeeded in your endeavor and dealt with the subsequent awkwardness appropriately.”

Jim’s face split into a grin and he rolled his eyes even as he laughed with genuine amusement. “I’m sure,” he agreed, his voice full of laughter and shoved up with one side of his hips, pitching Spock over and onto his back.

He gazed down at Spock before saying, “Well you’re stuck with me now, you know,” in that same flippant tone.

“Yes,” Spock answered, just as seriously as he had before. Jim swallowed audibly again but did not look away this time.

Instead he smiled and leaned down to gently press his lips to Spock’s.

Spock had known it before -- much earlier, in fact, when they were still just captain and first officer -- but he was struck by the thought now that there was nothing he would not do for this man. More often than not, that meant and would mean saving him from unfortunate diplomatic and illogically dangerous predicaments. But he knew too, just as surely as he knew his own name, that Jim would do nothing short of the same for him.

They were an unlikely pair, he and his captain. They were not the norm; not by Human standards and certainly not by Vulcan expectations. And they may not have fit in on their home worlds, but they fit together and Spock found that to be more fulfilling than any normalcy could ever bring him.

There was nothing like the pair that he and Jim Kirk made together. They were a singularity, and for that Spock was immeasurably glad.

fic arc: Lessons (2/4) (K/S)

berusama — Sat, 22 Aug 2009 07:43:41 GMT

Title: Blot the Sky and Block the Suns
Pairing: Pre-K/S
Rating: PG-13
Warnings/Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters portrayed herein, nor am I making any money from this work of fiction.
Summary: Jim learns that he can't always be the hero, but it's never a bad thing to try.

The fire is not imperative. The fire is revenge and Spock is exhausted and starving enough to acknowledge the lack of logic involved. He starts it anyway.

The fire is for abducting him from the landing party, torturing him for the sake of entertainment, forcing him to live and scrounge like an animal. This rebel faction of Omega Tau 6 has known madness on the fringes of the continent. He has seen them murder children for crying and rape mothers for the same. Spock has remained alive because they do not notice him when he is not entertaining them with torture-induced displays of resilience. So he lived and he scrounged, and while he may not have eaten for close to two weeks, he has pieced together a device able to broadcast a signal to the Enterprise. It will not beam him aboard the ship, but it will harness the ship's transporting capabilities enough to 'port the small group of survivors closer to a large city, perhaps even the capital.

The fire lights the faces of a dozen women and men, frail but resolute as they watch the compound burn from a distance. The screams of men, too far from sanity to find a way out, block what Spock will later learn were the sounds of phaser-fire. Spock has just begun the transporting sequence when he hears someone shouting his name. The voice echoes out from a warehouse across the lot they are standing in the center of. Spock can see a flash of gold beyond the flames that eat at the front of the building.

"Captain," Spock calls, and Jim turns just in time to see his First Officer and the group of survivors disappear. As soon as they land -- roughly and really only a few miles away from the compound -- Spock tries to reverse the process. The device is dead, though, its power drained, its circuits fried. Spock stares at it, the panic and pain and exhaustion from the last fourteen days culminating in the ringing in his ears, the moisture at his eyes. He tries to stand, he falls. He attempts to crawl, the sight of a burning building collapsing around his commanding officer driving him through the impossible pain.

The fire burns in the distance, its black clouds billowing up to blot the sky and block the suns.

- - -

Jim stares out onto the lot despite the debris falling around him. The ceiling won't hold up much longer, and Spock is gone. Safe. Whatever. The point is, he's probably about to die in this freakishly efficient fire and it won't even be to save Spock's life. He takes the time to feel a little bit foolish for that speech about 'no man left behind' and all that crap. Who's the ass left behind now?

Meanwhile, the building is falling apart, the smoke is taking its toll and holy fuck, why is there only one exit in this fucking warehouse? Well, at least Bones knows about the stash of porn padds locked in his desk. Hopefully he'll remove them before Starfleet cleans out his cabin. Because it's not like he has any of those hard-core fetishes, he just has a thing for the people who do. Is there a word for that? Someone whose fetish is other people's fetishes?

Jim knows the lack of oxygen is probably the reason for this strange train of thought, but the idea of Starfleet even getting a glance at his porn stash is kind of giving him a panic attack. Fuck dying uselessly in a fire, he doesn't need 'seriously deranged sexual deviant' tacked onto his permanent record. He leans pathetically against the wall and something metallic clangs against the sheeting. His phaser. Right.

- - -

The fifteenth landing party in as many days touches down about 50 meters from the drop point of the infiltrating signal. Phaser drawn, Nyota walks in front of Leonard whose arms are full of medical supplies, just in case.

Spock's not among the battered, unconscious people they find nearby, but soon enough Sulu calls out, "He's here!" and Nyota takes off after the doctor.

"Spock?" She gathers is head into her lap once they've turned him over. There's dried blood and bruising everywhere Nyota looks, but she can't do anything until Leonard finishes scanning.

"Well he's better off than the others, but we need to get him to sickbay."

He pulls out a hypo and Nyota hears herself demand "What is that?" before she can think better of it.

"We need to wake him up."

"No, if he's gone into a healing trance that could do more damage." Her hand shifts to cup Spock's neck, subtly blocking the doctor's target area.

"We need to know where Jim is." He yanks up Spock's sleeve and jabs his forearm. Nyota winces for him.

"Leonard-"

"He can handle it. If Jim's been captured in his place, we need to know where."

They both look down when Spock shifts. His eyes blink open slowly, like he's been drugged.

"Spock?" Nyota asks gently, letting him come-to on his own. Leonard has no such compunctions. He grabs Spock's shoulders and shakes a little when he asks where the captain is.

"Fire," Spock whispers.

Leonard's head shoots up and Nyota turns to follow his gaze. The smoke clouds are unmistakable. Her communicator is out and open in a matter of seconds.

"Uhura to transport room, 18 to beam up; please begin with this transmission plus two.

There's a medical team waiting when they arrive and they whisk Spock away after only a few terse instructions from Leonard.

"Scotty," she says, wishing she could follow to sickbay, "once you've beamed everyone up, the landing party needs to go back down a few miles north. There's a burning compound and we think the captain is there."

Scotty nods, already bringing up the second batch of survivors.

"You need to stay here," Nyota says when she sees Leonard handing out his instruments, save for a silver emergency kit.

"No, Jim could be really hurt," he answers, not bothering to look up from a quick scan.

"Or he could be fine, but these people here definitely are hurt. They need a doctor."

"Spock's going to be fine-" he stops when she grabs the kit from his hand.

"Mr. Scott will be on standby as soon as we locate the Captain. We will take him straight to the medical bay whether he needs it or not. But Leonard, these people need your help."

"Ready when you are," Scotty calls. The rest of the landing party is taking their places so Nyota gives Leonard once last look before climbing the steps. He looks vaguely murderous, but he's not coming after them. They'll probably have to talk later. She nods to Scotty and hopes that later will get here soon enough.

- - -

Jim wakes up groaning because everything hurts and something smells horrific.

"Welcome back," Bones says, but Jim can hear the underlying tension that tells him it was probably a close one. Or that he was snoring.

"Was I snoring?" Jim manages to rasp.

Bones shoots him a look and continues writing onto a padd. "Try not to talk."

Jim rolls his eyes, even though they sting like all hell. A quick glance to his left confirms that he doesn't have to ask if Spock's okay. The half-Vulcan is awake and pretending to pay them no attention. Which is fine with Jim. He'd rather not talk about what happened either.

"So what happened?" Bones asks. Jim gestures in a way that clearly says, 'you told me not to talk' and now it's Bone's turn to roll his eyes. But it's better than the don't-scare-me-like-that looks, so Jim lets it go with a smile and closes his eyes.

When he wakes again, Bones is gone. He's tempted to press the button that will have the good doctor running to his side, but he's probably just asleep at his desk anyway which wouldn't entail so much running as poking his head around a corner.

The lights are dimmed signaling ship's night, but Jim is wide awake. He glances over at Spock, but the half-Vulcan is still like the dead. Which is actually really unpleasant. Jim considers 'pst'ing at him until he at least stirs a bit, though really, if he focuses very closely he can see Spock's chest rise and fall with each breath. It makes his head hurt, but after awhile he's stared long enough to be able to match their breaths. It's difficult and he can't keep it up for long but it lulls him back to sleep and that's all that counts right now.

The next time Jim wakes it is to the sight of Spock staring at him. It's kind of creepy and makes Jim feel a little self-conscious. He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth and tries to smile.

"Good morning."

Spock does not return the sentiment, but he doesn't correct Jim either which means it really is morning or he's just angry enough to be giving Jim the silent treatment.

"What did I do?" Jim asks, just to get it over with. Because even if Spock's not mad, willingly giving him the opportunity to bitch about something might make him a little happier.

Spock's response is one calculated eyebrow-raise and Jim knows he is in trouble. "You willingly and unnecessarily placed your own life in danger to attempt to rescue me," Spock says, like it's a bad thing.

"Sorry?" Jim says because he knows 'you're welcome' will just piss Spock off even more.

"While immensely unpleasant, the situation was not completely out of my control. You should not have risked your own life needlessly."

"How the hell was I supposed to know that?" Jim's glad his throat hurts so damn much that he can't raise it very loudly. He'd rather not bring Bones into this as well. "I thought you'd be grateful."

"It would be illogical for me to condone your actions," Spock says and what pisses Jim off is that he's completely serious. Jim snaps.

"Okay, I get it; next time you're captured by hostiles and I have no idea if you're injured or even alive I'll just assume you have everything under control and not worry. Fuck solidarity or, god forbid, friendship! We'll all look out for ourselves and the next time I'm captured by raving, murderous lunatics I'll take comfort in the fact that you're not coming for me because it's not logical."

Spock stares at him in what might be the Vulcan equivalent of horror. Or maybe he just has to sneeze. Jim doesn't know and he's trying really hard not to care, but he's not very good at that anymore.

"Captain," Spock says, and then pauses. He starts again, softer this time, "Jim. I apologize. I did not mean to imply that I might view risking my own life for yours to be illogical. To the contrary, it is my duty. I merely request that you stop and think next time before hurrying to martyr yourself for others."

Jim studies the blanket that is draped across his legs and smiles gently. "I only get to be a martyr when you're not around to tell me I'm being illogical."

"Then I will endeavor to ensure you are never placed in that situation again," Spock says. The sudden sensation in Jim's chest is almost painful.

"We'll see," is all he can think to say as he settles back against the bed.

The silence stretches for several minutes until Jim says, "Too bad we can't leave to get the chess board."

Spock sits up and swings his legs over the side of the biobed. "I will retrieve it." At Jim's incredulous look he adds, "Doctor McCoy cleared me to leave several hours ago."

Jim watches his First Officer leave, a slight limp to his step, and tries not to over-analyze. The sensation in his chest worsens anyway and Jim settles back again, smiling softly at nothing and everything.

Chapter 3