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It’s hazy outside when Harry wakes up, barely any light coming through his shades. He stretches in bed, moves like he’s going to get up, but decides otherwise, flipping onto his side and letting his cheek flatten against his pillow. He starts to drift again, snuggles tighter under his covers and basks in that sweet, gentle feeling he gets right before he falls asleep. It doesn’t last though, not with Gemma around.
“Wake up, sleepy head,” she teases, tearing the blanket off him and grinning dangerously, mimicking his usual mischievous smile.
“I don’t know why mum lets you in the house,” he grumbles back, fighting for the covers.
“Just to bother you, I suppose.”
“Well your job’s done then, get out,” he says, muffling his mouth with his pillow only to hide the hint of a smirk on his lips.
“Missed you, too,” she jokes, laughing as she finally makes her way out of the room.
Finding it impossible to go back to sleep after Gemma’s interruption, Harry stretches again, sitting up and pulling at his shoulders, flexing his torso and letting the sleep leave his body, finishing off with a slight wiggle of his toes. He hops out of bed, fixes the crooked band of his boxer briefs before heading into the shower, and spends too much time pacing in his towel before settling on something to wear for the day.
~
“Harry! Come get breakfast,” Gemma calls, their mum busy at the stove.
He pads down the stairs not a minute later, toweling off his hair, barefoot and in jeans and a spotted button-down, the top buttons left open as usual.
“What have I said about dripping that hair of yours all over the kitchen?” his mum scolds, shaking her head as Harry steps up beside her and pecks her cheek sweetly. A victorious smile spreads across his face when he earns himself a little smirk from her.
“Sorry, mum, won’t happen again.”
“Sorry, mum,” Gemma teases quietly, frowning when Harry gives her a swift kick under her chair behind their mother’s back.
“It’s lovely having children that never got past the age of two, really,” Anne says sardonically as she sets down a plate for each of them at the little bar and a smaller one for herself, and steps back to her spot by the stove to pour some tea.
“Are you all packed?”
Harry nods emphatically while scarfing down his eggs and toast.
“Got your ticket?”
“Yes, mum.”
She bows her head once, settling down to eat, but doesn’t have long before Harry’s finished, rushing around to collect a couple of snacks for the plane ride he has to endure.
“I’ll call a cab,” she calls as he jogs up the stairs. Harry shouts his thanks, counting his bags and stuffing in a couple of extra shirts and underwear just in case, even making room for a second pair of Chelsea boots he probably doesn’t need. He grabs them all, checks his room to make sure he hasn’t missed anything, reads over the little list he pretends he doesn’t need, before nodding decisively and jogging back down the stairs into the kitchen.
“Cab should be here any minute.”
“Thanks,” he says, smiling when Gemma kicks him back, getting her revenge on him from earlier.
He’s finishing the last of his tea when he hears a honk outside and rushes to slide on his boots that he’d left by the door, stumbling towards his sister to say goodbye. She actually hugs him (after mussing up his hair of course) and kisses the top of his head goodbye.
“See you, mum,” he says, wrapping her small figure tightly in his arms.
She kisses his cheek before he pulls away. “You text me when you land, okay?”
“I will. Love you!” he calls as he drags his bags outside, his chin tilting up repeatedly to balance his sunglasses on his head.
Gemma and Anne wave their goodbyes from the door, watching as Harry haphazardly shoves his things into the trunk of the car, tripping over his own gangly legs as he gets into the car.
“Fool,” Gemma mutters affectionately as the door closes and he pulls away, off to Heathrow and then headed for California.
~
Some people at Camp Plumas spend their summers here as kids, only to find when they grow up that the camp is too good to leave so they come back to work here.
Some of these people are more like family to each other than the people that live with them back home. And even though Zayn is fairly new, never came here as a kid, just figured it’d be a cool thing to do one summer (which ended up being five, six if you count this one) he’s been adopted by everyone just the same.
And he’s finally back. He’d spent a week in Los Angeles before making the long drive up North, too excited to stay away for long. He’d missed it; he might not say it so much at home, but he did.
There’s comfort here in the friends he loves and memories he carries with him everywhere. And Liam, of course, who hasn’t been able to stop hugging him, his arm constantly slung over Zayn’s shoulder.
“I missed you, mate!” he exclaims when Zayn laughs in the middle of telling him to lay off.
“Clearly.”
“Oh c’mon,” Liam whines, his hand threatening to muss up Zayn’s perfectly done quiff, “just admit you missed me, too.”
“I won’t if you touch my hair.”
“What, this grey mess?”
“Watch it,” Zayn warns playfully, kicking open the door to his bunk and slinging his stuff onto his bed.
“I’m only joking, Z, I think you look very handsome,” he assures him, patting his hand twice on Zayn’s shoulder.
Liam shuffles across the room down the narrow aisle in between the beds to his spot, the one closest to the back of the little cabin. Zayn watches as Liam digs through his bags for a change of clothes, apparently finding the hot sun too much for this hour, and quickly replaces his clothes with the new ones. He sets his bed up, covers it with a mattress pad and fresh linens and finishes it off with the little Batman pillow he always brings from home.
“You’ll never forget that,” Zayn comments affectionately, deciding that he might as well make his bed now; he knows he’ll be too caught up in the first-day-back rush to do it later. “We’ve got the usual staying in here, yeah?”
“Actually, no,” Liam says, his voice turning up slightly on the second word. “Remember that kid Alex from last year? New guy, always wore basketball shorts?”
Zayn shrugs because he doesn’t always pay attention to new people, not right away at least.
“Well he’s not coming back so I asked whether we were getting a free bed or not and Andy said he heard that we’ll be getting another new guy.”
Zayn nods, finishing off his bed and leaving his bag open on top of it. He’s excited for the summer, has been looking forward to coming back here since his plane left SFO last summer to take him back home. He’s missed Liam, his best friend and partner in crime since the first summer he spent as a counselor here. Zayn’s ready for everything the summer holds- mishaps and good days with the kids, all the drama that comes with summer camp staff, the lot of it.
Liam starts to talk again, rambling on about how he hopes the new counselor is nice and fits in or something when he’s interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Hi!” they hear the familiar voice.
Liam rolls his eyes and Zayn chuckles at his reaction. “I dunno why you bother knocking, Liv,” Zayn says just as Olivia comes running in, gripping him in a tight hug.
“I missed you guys!” she shouts happily, running up to Liam and ignoring Zayn’s comment.
She’s like the little sister they both didn’t really ask for, but love nonetheless. One of the newer staff members, she went from camper to counselor only recently after she finally came of age. Zayn likes to tease her about the summer she’d spent fawning over Liam, but that faded quickly enough when they became coworkers. And now the three are practically inseparable, finding comfort in each other on nights when one is especially homesick, or just needs a shoulder.
She won’t shut up now, bombarding Zayn and Liam with ridiculous stories. Even as they lead her out of the room to walk through the grounds and enjoy the peace and open space before it fills with kids, she keeps going, hanging off of Zayn’s arm if not Liam’s while the both of them use her to practice their patience.
~
You may now remove your seatbelts and retrieve your belongings from the overhead compartments. Thank you for flying with us today and welcome to San Francisco.
Harry smirks at the over-cheeriness of the pilot’s voice over the speaker, but rushes to do as they said, grabbing his backpack and torn-up brown leather journal and following the line of people off the plane.
Despite the fact that the long flight has left him worn out, he’s excited and eager to get to the camp. Getting his bags takes longer than expected, but he’s finally able to haul them away from baggage claim, hopping on a bus to his car rental company, and driving away happily, turning up his music for the four hour drive ahead.
~
When he gets out of the car, the first thing he sees is the big sign stretched between a couple of trees near the entrance.
“Welcome Back to Camp Plumas!”
He pauses for a minute to take it in. This is home for the summer. He’s not too nervous, has always loved to be around people, especially new ones. He always found it easy to make friends; his mom always said he was a social butterfly.
He starts to walk towards what looks to be the main area and sees the bunk cabins from where he’s standing, making his way over and looking at the names inscribed on the kids’ bunks and the numbers painted onto the last sets of cabins, the ones that house staff. Cabin Seven.
Harry knocks first just to check, nudging the door open with the toe of his boot when he doesn’t get a response. He peeks in, shoves his way through when he realizes nobody’s inside. When Harry picks a bed his eye catches a couple that have already been made, one with a little Batman pillow that makes him smile.
He figures he should do the same so he drops his bags, sighing when their weight leaves his body. Harry pulls out his things, stretching a sheet over the mattress pad he was advised to bring.
“You must be the new guy.”
Zayn’s voice startles Harry, makes him jump and turn around quickly.
“Oh yeah- sorry, I didn’t hear you come in,” he says with a smile. “I’m Harry.”
He’s always been decent at hiding his thoughts, at least the kind that are readable on someone’s face, in their eyes. For example, when someone thinks somebody is attractive. Like Harry’s thinking right now, looking at Zayn.
Harry takes in the stranger’s perfect styled grey hair, his lean figure covered in a chest-hugging dark red shirt and black jeans, combat boots making his already thin legs appear even smaller. The other boy’s striking to look at, a softness in his cheeks, but firm everywhere else, plump lips surrounded by dark facial hair. And those eyes- melted gold and honey and caramel must have mixed together to make them, that’s the only explanation Harry can think of.
Zayn tries to push away the nerves that set ablaze through his body when he looks at the unfamiliar boy. He’s all curls and limbs and he’s got eyes unlike anything Zayn’s ever seen.
Harry can almost sense that he’s affecting Zayn and Zayn’s sure Harry must have caught him staring. He sees the movement in Zayn’s throat when he gulps nervously, clearing his throat.
“I’m Zayn,” he nods at Harry, turning away to hide the blush that’s crept into his cheeks.
Harry’s stare is intense, but not harmful. It’s just unwavering and even though Zayn’s a stranger to him, very warm.
“It’s that obvious that I’m new, huh?”
“Well I’ve been here long enough so…”
Zayn trails off, leaving them in silence. He’s not sure what to say next, wants to look at this tall, lanky, curly haired boy some more. But Harry breaks the silence quickly, seemingly unfazed as he continues to make his bed.
“Where do I go to pick up my uniform?”
“Oh I can show you. This place probably looks really confusing now, but it’s not as big as it seems and everything is marked so you’ll get it quickly.”
“Thanks,” Harry smiles at Zayn as he lifts one of his bags back onto the bed, pushing his little leather journal to the very bottom before nodding at him to lead the way.
“So how long have you been working here?”
“This is my sixth summer here,” Zayn replies with a proud smile.
“Sixth? Wow,” he breathes it, a soft little sound that Zayn hadn’t expected to get a slight chill from. “You lot that have been here a while are probably really close, huh?”
“Like family.”
It falls silent again, but this time it’s comfortable. They reach the main building and a soft exhale makes Zayn think Harry must be relieved to feel air conditioning.
He steps up to the counter, asking the person manning the area about his stuff. Zayn watches how he leans on the counter, how he can just faintly make out the shape of his body under his polka-dotted button down, his broad shoulders. He thinks he sees some ink when his shirt flaps open a little, can’t help but to lick his lips at the thought. He admires the way his hair falls in soft curls over his shoulders, how nice his thighs look in those tight black jeans. He looks very Hollywood, Zayn notes, exudes confidence with his bright smile when he takes a small pile of three folded shirts from the person and a lanyard.
“Where-“
“You’ll come back later to take your ID picture,” Zayn reminds Harry from against the wall. “You’re set for now.”
“Thanks very much,” he calls over his shoulder as he follows Zayn out the door back to their cabin.
“So when do I get to meet everyone?”
“They’re eating lunch now,” Zayn tells him. “I’d just come back to get something.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to hold you up, I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s alright. You can head back with me, I’ll introduce you.”
“Great!” Harry says brightly, walking off, and, after a brief moment Zayn realizes he’s trying to lead the way till he remembers he doesn’t actually know where he’s going.
~
“Aye, mate, you’re back,” Liam calls through a mouthful of food.
“Yeah and I’d like you to meet our new bunkmate.”
Liam looks up quickly, his eyes landing on the taller boy behind Zayn.
“Everyone, this is Harry,” he starts, glancing back and trying not to get too distracted by his infectious smile, “Harry, this is everyone. Liam, down at the end there. Olivia next to him. Niall, Louis, Leigh, and Danny on that side,” he points to each one and they all smile welcomingly at him.
Zayn slides in next to Olivia and Harry doesn’t hesitate to slide in right after, his thigh bumping softly against Zayn’s. Olivia keeps stretching around Zayn to eye Harry and Zayn notices, trying to hide his frustration while also trying to hide Harry from her view, not that he has a reason to, or so he tells himself. Harry’s chatting with Niall, who looks enamored already and doesn’t notice when Leigh leans across the table, scratching her nails briefly against Zayn’s hand to grab his attention.
“He’s fit,” she mouths not as subtly as she thinks.
Zayn shakes his head at her, but the little pull at the corners of his lips gives him away.
“Knew you thought so,” she adds quickly.
He did. He does. And Zayn’s very annoyed at himself for being annoyed that Olivia keeps looking at Harry like that and that Leigh keeps looking at him for a reaction and that Niall can’t seem to get enough of talking to this new guy. Harry seems to thrive in it, this attention, these smiles directed his way. But if Zayn could look into Harry’s head right now, he’d find that Harry keeps finding himself looking for a smile from Zayn, because sure the others’ are sweet, but Zayn’s already his favorite.
~
The heat’s settled into something cooler now that the sun’s gone down. Everyone is feeling tired, lazy, but the air is still buzzing with excitement for tomorrow, for what’s to come. Everyone’s planning what to do with their groups for the first day, projects and activities and the like.
“So you do arts and crafts?” Harry asks Zayn, his arms stretched over his head, muscles tensed as he keeps them propped on a wooden beam above his bed.
“Mhm, every summer.”
“And Liam?”
“I do water sports. Swimming and canoeing on the lake, all that,” he mumbles from the corner, looking over his schedule for the day.
“You excited to be a counselor?” Zayn asks Harry, looks up at him from his bed right next to Harry’s.
“Yeah, I love kids. I’m a little nervous though, you never know if they’re gonna like respond well to you, y’know?”
“’Course,” Zayn shrugs, still looking up at Harry, “but I’m sure they’ll like you,” he comforts him. He’s about to speak again, but is loudly interrupted when Louis bursts in with Olivia at his side.
“Forget about the bonfire?” he shouts to nobody in particular, bouncing onto Liam’s bed and wrapping his arm over his shoulders, squeezing him close.
“Get off,” Liam pushes at Louis, but he holds tight, a childish grin on his face.
“’Course not,” Zayn says as he gets up, shaking his head at Louis’ constant need to pester Liam. Zayn stretches after being curled up so tightly on his bed and laughs when Liam gives Louis another shove.
Harry watches Zayn’s body, how his skin stretches over the lean muscle, taking a moment to admire the tattoos he can see from here, the details on his arm and something peeking out of his shirt collar.
Harry notices when Zayn subtly tries to do the same when he steps towards the door. It looks like Zayn takes a liking to the rose on his elbow, the smaller pieces inked into his shoulders and near his neck that he saw when Harry changed into a plain black t-shirt earlier from the way he’s staring. Harry holds back a smile when he notices Zayn tries not to get too flustered at the larger pieces that decorated his chest and stomach, the laurels that so nicely compliment his hips. Zayn doesn’t realize he’s been staring at the spot even though it’s covered. Mostly.
“See something you like?” Harry teases, his voice loud enough that everyone notices.
All the eyes in the room land on Zayn and Zayn’s own eyes widen. Harry grins, satisfied that he’s finally gotten a reaction out of him.
“I uh- you had something on your shirt,” Zayn mumbles, his lips twitching into a frown when he hears Liam and Louis giggling in the corner. “Look, are we going to the bonfire or not?”
“Don’t get your panties in a bunch,” Louis taunts, clapping Zayn on the shoulder as he walks by him to the door.
Zayn just rolls his eyes, following Louis out the door, everyone else in tow. The smile still hasn’t left Harry’s face.
~
Everyone’s busy around the fire, Zayn and Liam hauling wood into the middle to make it bigger, Niall helping Leigh bring in cases of beer that Niall keeps hidden under his bunk year after year. Harry’s scrolling through his phone to provide music for the bunch in between helping Liam gather wood.
Louis and Olivia on the other hand are already sitting in their chairs. Typical.
“You could get off your arse and help once in a while,” Zayn calls to the two of them.
“I’m alright, thanks.”
Zayn drops another pile of wood from him and Liam’s arms onto the fire and Niall thinks it’s a bright idea to pour a bit of alcohol on the wood. It flares up for a moment and everyone jumps back, Niall laughing brightly. Everything’s set up, strings of lights wrapped over some branches adding a little more light to the dark, and Harry swears that more than anything, the light comes from Zayn’s smile, if not his twinkling eyes.
Everyone’s got a bottle in hand, other counselors roam about and drop in to say hello. Harry’s loving the vibes, the smiles all around, the way everyone talks to each other. It reminds him of himself and Gemma. He watches Zayn, watches how his eyes crinkle a bit when he laughs and how his tongue presses against the back of his teeth, his tongue…
“Zayn’s not the only one who sees something he likes.”
Leigh startles Harry, coming up from behind him, laughing over the rim of her bottle.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” she says, bumping her hip against his.
“That’s alright,” Harry smiles back. “And is it that obvious?”
“Think it might be, yeah.”
Harry waits for her to speak, hopes that maybe she’ll give him something to work with here, but Zayn interrupts them, striding over and standing in front of them.
“What are you two on about?”
“Nothing,” Leigh says with a sly smile.
Harry looks back and forth between the two of them, amused by the spark in Zayn’s eyes. He can’t stop looking at them, gets kind of lost in the amber, the way the firelight brings out the honey and gold in the warm brown of his irises.
~
Zayn slowly meets Harry’s gaze, can feel Harry’s eyes boring into his own, and the alcohol in his system makes it easy to stare back, to challenge Harry a little. Harry snaps out of it, realizes that Zayn’s staring back so he smirks, taking a swig of beer, his eyes not leaving Zayn’s for one moment.
“Can you two make eyes at each other somewhere else?” Liam jokes as he passes them by. “Are you enjoying this?” he directs his question to Leigh whose amused stare flickers from Zayn to Harry.
“A little,” she shrugs at Liam.
Harry’s eyes start to make Zayn nervous, but he can’t get himself to stop looking, not yet. He wants to memorize the green of his eyes, like rain on leaves on a hot summer day, like the northern lights flaring against a dark sky. The thought strikes him, his nerves hit harder, so he looks away.
“Why don’t we go uh sit, yeah” Zayn breaks the silence between them and of course they grab chairs next to each other, falling easily into conversation.
For a few moments, there’s nothing but them and the fire keeping them warm. Harry gets Zayn talking about home for a minute, then about his past summers spent here. He listens intently, smiles when Zayn smiles at a particular memory, laughs when he tells him about the time Liam pushed Louis off the dock to get him back for toilet papering his cabin.
Harry catches Louis scowling when he overhears and he can barely hear him mumble to himself that he’ll get Liam back good for that one, one day.
Harry can’t stop looking at Zayn’s lips when he speaks, how they move over the words like liquid, forming the sounds and shapes almost lazily. They look so soft, so pink; Harry can’t stop thinking about biting down on his bottom lip.
He’s so caught up in trying to listen at the same time as daydreaming about Zayn’s lips that he doesn’t notice Zayn noticing his gaze. Zayn bites back a smile and Harry’s eyes meet his after watching his teeth graze over his lower lip.
Harry almost leans in to kiss Zayn, almost spills his beer in doing so, but a dull crash drags their attention away from one another. Harry spares a longing glance at Zayn before turning to see what the noise was, laughing when he sees Niall amidst a broken chair, bottom against the ground as he laughs till tears fall from his eyes.
~
Zayn and Harry take Niall’s incident as a cue to return their attention to their friends. They laugh, talk about home, how much they missed this place. Harry jokes about being new and everyone laughs, so he does too. They talk about how excited they are for the couple of months ahead, about the common night-before-first-day nerves that everyone is feeling. They even make a toast to a great summer, everyone climbing out of their chairs to clink their bottles together. They gather in a tight circle, arms around each other’s shoulders and Zayn becomes very aware of Harry’s arm slung around his hip, of his own doing the same to Harry, how easy it feels.
“To another Plumas summer to remember,” Liam calls out happily.
“To a first,” Harry adds, his cheek dimpling.
“To a first,” Liam says, nodding at Harry.
Everyone repeats the toast, clinks their bottles together, and drinks.
~
Harry wakes up early the next morning, barely remembering making it to his bed. He sits up, curls falling into his face, and looks around. Liam’s still asleep, arms and legs sprawled out, no clothes on but his boxers; Louis’s the same, only his head visible above his blankets; Niall and Danny look like they’d fallen into bed before they could realize what was happening; and right beside Harry is Zayn, whose eyelids snap shut when Harry turns his way.
“I saw you,” Harry says, voice raspy and thick with sleep.
“No, you didn’t,” Zayn jokes, smiling into his pillow so Harry doesn’t see.
“Why are you awake, anyway?”
“I dunno, just couldn’t stay asleep I guess. Too excited, maybe.”
“Me, too,” Harry smiles, sitting up further, his blanket falling from his chest.
Zayn wishes it hadn’t, wishes Harry had stayed covered. It was hard enough to stop thinking about him with clothes on, he didn’t need to see him with almost nothing. Harry knows, can sense Zayn’s nerves, the electricity in the room. He carefully pushes the rest of the covers off him, sits at the edge of the bed so his knees bend at the edge, facing Zayn.
“Can I uh…” Harry trails off, nodding at Zayn, at his bed.
It takes Zayn a minute, but it registers and he nods, biting back a smile when Harry climbs in beside him after he’d lifted up the covers and slid over to the other side of the small mattress.
“It’s a bit tight with two people,” Zayn jokes, adjusting himself beside Harry.
“I could go back to mine-“
“No, no. I don’t mind.”
“What if one of them wakes up?”
“I don’t think so, they’ve still got a couple of hours.”
Harry’s gaze falls to Zayn’s lips.
“We’ve only known each other less than a day,” Harry says, unsure if he’s telling Zayn or himself.
“I’m not the one in your bed, am I?”
“I guess not,” Harry smiles at Zayn’s challenging voice, licks his lips, wets them a bit.
Harry hesitates for a moment, shifts so he’s almost on top of Zayn. Zayn just watches, waits a bit impatiently, doesn’t hesitate to close the space between him and Harry’s lips when Harry leans in again.
It’s warm and soft, the way Zayn kisses Harry. Harry’s lips are lazy against Zayn’s, moving languidly, so gently. He kisses Zayn like he doesn’t want to break him, straddles his hips when Zayn gives him the okay to deepen the kiss.
Harry keeps Zayn’s blanket stretched over the two of them when he breaks his lips away from Zayn’s, kissing along his jaw, his neck, nipping at his shoulder. He’s eager, sweet, uses his mouth expertly, knows just where to kiss Zayn like they’ve been doing this for ages. Zayn tastes like sweat and something sweet, and his lips faintly of alcohol.
Zayn basks in Harry’s touch, lies comfortably underneath him while Harry marks his chest, leaving a reddened spot just at the tip of one of Zayn’s angel wings. He kisses back up to Zayn’s lips, kisses him there like he craves the taste, the feel of Zayn’s mouth against his. Harry almost moans into Zayn’s mouth when Zayn’s fingers twist into Harry’s curls, holding him in place. He loves that, loves that Zayn takes control.
Grinding his crotch against Zayn’s, Harry nips at Zayn’s lower lip and Zayn hisses in pleasure, bites his own lip when Harry rubs against him again. Harry can feel the bulge in Zayn’s underwear growing, can feel his own heart racing whenever he kisses Zayn, feels Zayn’s lips so hungry, so warm against his own. Harry wants nothing but to kiss Zayn all morning, tease him, find out what he likes and what he doesn’t, what makes him twitch, get a little loud.
Harry wants to memorize Zayn like this, the way Zayn keeps pressing his fingertips into the flesh on Harry’s sides, the curve of his lips, the scruff along his jaw, how his thighs feel under Harry’s hand. He wants to feel more of Zayn, is just about to get his wish when there’s a knock on the door and then the soft creak of it opening.
“Anyone awake yet?”
They hear Leigh’s voice and she pokes her head in further, her eyes widening when she sees movement and a large lump under the covers.
“Oh my god, sorry, I’m sorry!” she exclaims in a screechy whisper.
The sound startles Harry, almost sends him flying off the bed, but he catches himself. Harry feels Zayn’s heart pounding against his chest, but he manages a smile because Harry’s laughing, muffling the sound with one of Zayn’s pillows.
~
Zayn had hoped that everyone would pretend they didn’t see Harry crawl out of Zayn’s bed to hit the showers. He had hoped that nobody would comment on it. He had hoped they’d at least save the comments for when kids weren’t around. He had hoped even though he knew better. But here he is, helping kids get themselves settled with Louis chattering at his ear every couple of minutes with something to say.
It’s the same the next day in his first arts and crafts class of the summer, going from table to table checking on the kids’ lanyard bracelets and signs to decorate their bunks. Niall’s group is in now and Niall follows Zayn around, if not laughing with the kids, teasing Zayn about Harry. He’s even convinced one of the younger ones that Zayn and Harry are like a prince and a princess in a fairytale.
“Which one of you is the prince?” Rian asks with an innocent smile.
"I’ll get back to you. For now, can I see your sign? It looks lovely,” he says, kneeling down beside the child and oohing at the colorful artwork. “I wish mine was as cool as that.”
Even Leigh gets one of her kids in the drawing class the following day to ask too many questions about Harry and Zayn. All the kids love Harry already, they tell Zayn that he’s very lucky and that they hope he is nice to Harry because “Harry’s so nice”. One little one is giggling with Leigh at their table when she points out Zayn watching Harry through the window, leading his kids to some activity. Harry catches him of course, biting back a smile.
“Zayn!” Leigh calls to him, curling her hand for him to come over.
“Everything alright?”
“Yeah, yeah, but our friend Janelle here drew you something.”
“Oh, I’d love to see!” Zayn says happily, leaning against the edge of the table.
The little girl hands a piece of paper over shyly and Zayn unfolds it, blushing at the picture.
“Mr. Harry’s so funny,” she explains, pointing at the word bubble she’s drawn coming from Zayn’s mouth, filled with little ha-ha-ha’s, “so he’s making you laugh.”
“This is very sweet,” Zayn says, hugging the girl around her shoulders. “I can’t wait to show him.”
~
The first week flies by, filled with lots of teasing, meeting new kids and reuniting with regulars, running classes and programs and barely having the energy to hang out late at night. But Zayn and Harry use what little time they have to themselves together, kissing like they did that first morning, talking about their days. Zayn shows Harry the drawing one night after the campers’ lights out and Harry giggles like a small child, shakes his head in amazement at the drawing.
“Is my hair really this messy?” he jokes, leaning into Zayn.
“Only when you first wake up,” Zayn jokes back.
They’re laughing together, getting closer every second till they become a mess of limbs sat together on Harry’s bed. Harry tilts his head back so Zayn can lean down a bit and kiss him, one of those soft, little kisses that always makes Harry’s toes curl.
“C’mon, lovebirds,” Liam says, covering his eyes like he’s starting to learn to when he enters their bunk, “Saturday night, you know the drill.”
“You can uncover your eyes, Liam, we’re not doing anything,” Harry laughs, climbing out of Zayn’s lap to pull his shirt back on.
Liam gestures as Harry’s only partially covered body. “You must have been.”
Zayn follows suit, fixing his hair that he only lets get messed up by Harry, and only under certain circumstances. The three of them quietly make their way to the spot a short ways into the trees for their weekly bonfire, Harry and Zayn leaning comfortably on each other.
“To the happy couple!” Niall raises his bottle the second he sees them, laughing with Danny and Olivia when he clinks his bottle with theirs.
Zayn swallows. They haven’t put a label on anything yet, but he can’t pretend what he feels isn’t real. This isn’t just a summer camp fling- nothing that feels so strong can be just a fling, at least not to him. He doesn’t think Harry feels any differently, kind of just assumed that they were both on the same page.
“To us?” Harry asks, grabbing two bottles out of one of the six packs and passing one to Zayn.
“We’re an ‘us’?” Zayn asks tentatively, hopefully.
“I hoped so,” Harry says.
“To us, then,” Zayn says softly, tapping his bottle against Harry’s and taking a sip.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Harry, they’re gonna-“
“I don’t care.”
“Well, alright.”
So Harry kisses him, not the way they kiss early in the morning when everyone’s asleep, or when they manage to sneak into the showers together at night. This is shyer, softer, the gentlest Harry’s ever kissed Zayn. Zayn likes it so much he doesn’t even notice the mixture of aw’s and ew’s coming from the small group behind them, only registering their audience when Harry pulls away hesitantly, laughs when Louis forcibly drags them away from each other.
“Enough of that,” he says to Harry, shaking his head in disgust at the display of affection.
“Someone sounds bitter,” Leigh jokes, making Harry laugh.
Louis waggles his eyebrows at her. “You could help fix that.”
“God, no.”
Harry curls up near Zayn’s side, squeezing uncomfortably into the chair. They speak in hushed tones when they have a chance for their own conversation, share beers, forget that everyone else is around. Everyone laughs, teases each other, takes the piss out of Harry and Zayn, and drinks till bottles are dry. It’s another late night, even better than the last bonfire, because now Zayn and Harry can share a chair, flirt shamelessly, kiss when nobody’s paying attention.
Zayn falls asleep in Harry’s bed that night and when he wakes up, he finds himself wishing that he can spend the whole summer like that.
~
Two weeks in and everything is as good as it can be. Most of the kids are well adjusted and have gotten into the swing of being away from home and participating in different camp activities every day. Harry’s started taking his group on nature walks, enjoying some time away from campgrounds to ask the kids what kinds of animals they think live out here and how high the trees grow.
“Way up into the sky,” one says one day and Harry laughs, watching as the child points straight up, bends his head back a little so he can try and see.
Harry and Zayn share fleeting glances towards one another, always sit next to each other during meals. They make their friends sick with their constant looks at one another, how they sometimes come out from behind trees with rumpled shirts and messed up heads of hair.
~
Harry loves the kids as much as he’d thought he would, if not more. They’ve grown fond of him as well, fight for his attention, and hang on his every word. They even take note of things like how he smiles at Zayn and they’re bold in their unsolicited advice.
“You know, if you like Zayn you should hold his hand. My grandma really likes my grandpa, so she always holds his hand,” one little girl says during free hour one day when she notices Harry making eyes at Zayn, mouthing, “Can we meet up soon?” at him.
“How did you-“
“My brother, too! He holds hands with his boyfriend all the time because they love each other,” another little girl says in response. “Do you and Zayn looove each other?” she says with a giggle.
“That’s a secret,” Harry teases, his eyes flickering up to find Zayn admiring him from the arts and craft’s room doorway.
~
Harry whisks Zayn away during lunch later, tells him about what the two little girls said when they sneak away to the far dock at the lake. They sit with their sandwiches and get too caught up in each other, forget to eat, remember to kiss.
“It’s too hot today,” Zayn complains, leaning back with his palms flat against the dock, his arms stretched out behind him.
“Wanna sneak in a little dip?”
“You’ll never catch me in there,” Zayn tells Harry with a smile, reminds him that if he gets caught he could get in trouble, but Harry’s never minded that much.
He doesn’t get in though, not because of fear of getting a slap on the wrist or what have you, but because what’s the point if Zayn’s not going to do it with him? So they sit in the heat, eyes squinted under the sun’s strong rays, unable to pull themselves away from each other despite the high temperatures.
Harry tells Zayn that he really likes the kids, likes the counselors, loves seeing Zayn in the art room with the children, about how he misses him even when he can see him from where he’s standing.
“Is that too corny?” Harry asks, tilting his head slightly.
“A little,” Zayn admits after a moment of contemplation. Harry pouts at him and Zayn can’t help smiling when he looks at those rose petal-like lips. “But there’s nothing wrong with a little bit of hopeless romance sometimes,” he adds.
“I should hope not.”
They stay like that, flirting and touching, laughing with each other. The heat around them thickens when Zayn climbs on top of Harry, ducking his head to nibble at the crook of his neck, stretching his shirt collar to get there.
Harry’s fingers press against Zayn’s hips, an anchor weighing him down against Harry. It’s too hot though, too risky to do too much now. So they just stay like that, too entranced to be bothered by the heat anymore, their voices soft whenever they speak. They could go all day like that, probably would if not for Niall coming out to warn them that they have five minutes left, cursing them for never being able to get a room.
~
Harry’s gotten used to the busy days, having to keep a watchful eye on every kid and the schedules and shifts everyone has. He’s started taking advantage of the days when his group has activities at the lake and jumps in with them, helping Liam with the kids who have a tougher time in their canoes or the ones who aren’t the best swimmers.
He catches Zayn watching sometimes, admiring the way the water drips over Harry’s tattooed body. Harry laughs when the kids point out his tattoos and tell him that he has a bug on his stomach as if he didn’t know.
“What?! Where?!” He feigns panic, splashing around wildly and trying to get away from this bug till the kids are clutching their stomachs with laughter.
Sometimes Zayn sits on the dock with the kids who won’t swim, comforts them and tells them that it’s OK, he’s the same way. They all dip their feet in the water, some of them having to stretch far just to get the tips of their toes in. Harry always swims over and grabs at them, making them shriek and laugh.
Zayn gets that dopey smile on his face whenever he watches Harry with the kids, the way he picks them up in the water and splashes with them. Even Liam can’t help but smile at it.
In their third week, Harry and his group get some more time in the arts and crafts room. Harry always teases Zayn, leans over him when he helps the kids with their projects, whispers naughty comments when he walks by him. They take advantage of their time together to soak up the energy they crave from one another, save the kisses for later at night when most everyone’s asleep and they can’t seem to find their ways to their own beds.
~
Harry’s sitting outside after the bonfire at the end of their third week, feet dangling off the dock. He’s bent over his little journal, scribbling words onto the worn pages.
“Y’know, you’re not supposed to be out here after lights out,” Zayn teases when he comes up behind him, shaking his flashlight over Harry’s head.
“You scared me,” he scolds Zayn, smiling at him over his shoulder.
“Whatcha got there?”
“Just writing.”
Zayn caught Harry writing in his worn out little notebook a few days ago. Harry told him how he sometimes scribbles down lyrics, uses it just to write out his thoughts once in a while. What Harry didn’t tell Zayn was that when he caught him, Harry was writing about his eyes, or trying to at least- it was difficult to describe them, the warmth and honesty there, the fragility in the liquid gold irises.
Zayn, in turn, told Harry about his drawings, how he’s always turned to art for an escape. He didn’t tell him that he drew Harry’s eyes in the arts and crafts room one day, did what he could with a watercolor palette and some colored pencils to try and get the proper green for them.
Harry kissed him then, told Zayn that he’d like him to draw him one day. Zayn nodded, smiled knowingly at Harry and Harry kissed him a second time, held Zayn’s face in his hands while Zayn’s fingers twisted gently into Harry’s curls. They’d kissed till they’re lips were swollen, till they were both aching with pleasure for one another.
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Zayn sits down beside Harry, leans his head on his shoulder, thinking about that night. They’ve gotten so comfortable with one another so quickly, have let themselves become open to each other.
“Zayn, can I ask you something?”
“’Course, babe, what is it?”
“I like when you call me ‘babe’,” Harry confesses quietly, tilting his head a bit to peck Zayn’s plump, pink lips. “I don’t want to ask too much when it’s only been a few weeks,” Harry starts, sighing to himself. “But um… I like you, Zayn.”
“I know, Harry. I like you, too.”
“I know. But after summer are we still going to do this? Are we still going to be us?”
“I never thought otherwise.”
“No?”
“Uh-uh. I don’t want us to get ahead of ourselves, but I don’t want us to end, either. I don’t think we will.”
“I don’t either.”
“Can I kiss you now?” Harry asks gently, leaning backwards and pulling Zayn down with him. Zayn swings his leg over Harry, straddles him as Harry shifts against the dock, trying to get comfortable on the hard, scratchy surface of the wood.
“You can always kiss me,” Zayn says against Harry’s lips, smiling when Harry lifts his head to close the gap, holds Zayn against him while their lips move in sync.
Zayn takes his time while Harry moves more eagerly. Zayn always coos sweetly at him, tells him to slow down, tells him “We’ve got time, babe,” in between deep, slow kisses. Zayn likes to do that, likes to make Harry wait, kiss him slowly and deeply, taste every corner of his mouth he can reach. Harry lets him, and Zayn knows that it’s because he likes when Zayn takes over like this, holds his hands above Harry’s head so Harry can’t touch while Zayn kisses his way down his neck and over his chest.
They stay outside like this for too long, lie together under the stars and kiss each other’s tattoos. They almost fall asleep out there, even feel themselves close to falling asleep the next day if they don’t stay busy enough with the campers.
~
The day that the staff’s been waiting for finally arrives. The first of two midweek days off might be the nicest day at the camp so far. The sun’s out, but it’s not too hot, and a breeze blowing over the lake keeps everyone cool.
Most of the kids are taking advantage of this free day to play with one another, sit in the craft room and color, or catch up on sleep. Niall’s gotten his group together and they’ve been sitting in their bunk, planning their attack. Leigh joins them with a few of her kids while Liam and Louis have gotten theirs together. Zayn and Olivia decide to pair up while Zayn’s other bunkmate, Danny, has paired up with a counselor he’s been crushing on for a couple of summers now.
Harry’s in the crafts room with some of his kids who want to spend their time in there today, disappointed that Zayn wasn’t in there when he arrived.
He uses his time to snoop around, see what art supplies are hidden in here. He’s digging through a set of drawers, admiring some nicer looking paints and brushes when he notices something hidden beneath all of it. A single plastic water gun, pretty decent in size.
He lifts his head then, notices how empty the camp has seemed today. Harry remembers Zayn telling him about some of the pranks that counselors had pulled in the past and his eyes narrow as takes another look around.
“Kids!” he calls out, peering out the window to see if anyone’s around.
They all look over at him, attention drawn away from their markers and crayons.
“I need you all to help me out with something,” Harry explains, gathering them all to one table.
“Hey buddy.” He taps one of the quieter, shyer kids, Jordan, on the shoulder, “can you do me a favor and grab four or five of your favorite colors of those paints over there?” he asks him, pointing to the bin of washable paints.
“The whole bottle?”
“The whole bottle,” Harry confirms with a grin.
“OK!” the boy perks up, excited to be a part of whatever it is Harry is planning.
He comes back just moments later with his arms full of the bottles. Harry helps place each of them on the table. One sky blue, a bright green, red, darker blue, and yellow.
“These are perfect,” he tells Jordan, smiling down at him.
“What are we gonna do with ‘em?”
“I’ll tell you.”
Harry explains about the water gun he found, how he thinks that someone is planning something so if that’s the case, they need to be prepared.
“All I need is for you lot to cover your hands with this stuff, and without getting too rough because that’ll just cause you trouble, cover em in paint, alright? I’ll even let you take the bottles and some brushes and use those.”
The kids ooh quietly, maniacal little smiles crossing their faces as they laugh between each other.
“Only if they attack us though, OK? We do not strike first, we are peaceful until messed with.”
They laugh at his comment, covering their mouths so they don’t give themselves away.
“Now, this is our hide-out, alright? I need a couple of you to be my lookouts-“
Every little arm shoots into the air and Harry grins, shaking his head.
“Hmm… okay, Carmen, you take that side,” he points at one of the little girls and to her designated window and she bounces up and down excitedly, “and James, you take that window, okay?”
Each of them hurries to their posts, but Harry calls them back to wipe some face paint underneath their eyes, sending them off when he’s satisfied with their looks. They giggle excitedly as Harry gets the rest of the group prepared.
“Can someone help me with mine?”
He looks around and notices Jordan is quiet again, so he calls him over.
“Pick one of your colors, mate!” he guides him and the boy smiles, grabbing the yellow bottle. “Good choice,” Harry encourages him and keeps a straight face when the boy gives Harry two parallel lines on each cheek.
“How do I look?”
“Like a football player!” one kid chimes in.
“Perfect. Now you all help each other out with that, OK? I’m going to check up on what’s going on outside.”
He peeks out the door, eyes narrowed as he looks around. His eyes widen when he sees one of the older campers duck behind a tree.
“I saw one, I saw one!” Carmen says, pointing and then covering her mouth when she thinks she’s gotten too loud. “I saw one,” she mouths then.
“OK, are we ready?”
“We’re ready,” the kids say, not quite in unison, but close enough, a chorus of yeah’s and yes, sir’s filling the room.
“My gun, please,” Harry says to the child that was assigned to fill it to capacity. He hands it over and Harry claps his hand against it.
“Fight hard out there, soldiers, and don’t let yourselves get hurt.”
Some of the group laughs at his exaggerated seriousness, the rest seeming to think they’re actually going to war out there, mouths in straight lines and heads nodding firmly.
“We’re going to go out there and act normal, like we’re walking to the mess hall, OK? Got it?”
“Yeah!”
“Alright, mates. Let’s go.”
He lets them all out in front of him, taking his spot in the back of the line of children. They don’t get very far, have barely made it away from the arts and crafts room when Louis pops out of seemingly nowhere shouting “Fire!”
His group jumps out from their hiding spots and shoot water at Harry and his crew, making the kids shriek and panic before they remember their duties.
They scatter, screaming out battle cries as they rubs hands on shirts and arms, throw what they can of the thick, colored liquids at hair and bodies.
Louis looks shocked, stops and watches the events unfold around him before shooting again.
Harry aims for a child that comes running out from behind a tree. He tries to go towards the lake, but Liam pops up from hiding near the dock and shoots at him. Harry laughs, watching his kids put all their efforts into winning, their mouths wide as they laugh and shout at each other, squirting paint and giving their friends from other groups pats on the back with painted hands.
Harry’s shooting at Liam with his comparatively mediocre water gun when the rest of the groups reveal themselves and Harry’s sure him and his group have lost. He feigns betrayal when Zayn gets him right in the back, pretends to fall on his knees in the dirt by the dock.
“Z- Zayn… my love, how could you do this to me?”
Zayn cackles, shooting at whoever he can, other counselor’s groups, Louis, Niall, Olivia, whoever he sees first. One of Harry’s kids comes running, dramatically waving their arms at Harry.
“Mr. Harry!”
“I need your help, kiddo,” he says, trying to hold back his laughter when he notices how messy the kid has become. “Get the one with the grey hair for me.”
“OK!”
The child gets up and roars at Zayn, smearing paint over his legs because he can’t reach much higher.
“Hey, what- Harry!” Zayn screams, laughing brightly. “You gave them paint?”
“I knew you guys were planning something,” Harry says, brushing himself off when he stands up. “It was too quiet.”
The kids are still running around, paint and water flying everywhere. Harry’s curls are soaked, the paint on his cheeks smeared and messy. The kids around him are blue and red and their little clothes are dripping; the counselors running about are as messy and wild as the kids. Harry can’t help but laugh wildly, the sound stopping abruptly when Zayn shoots him again.
“All’s fair in love and war,” he says with a shrug, running away from Harry.
Harry chases after him, smearing green paint into his hair with a mischievous smile. Zayn’s too happy to worry about his normally perfect hair and keeps shooting like everyone else.
One by one the kids start to surrender, drop their water guns and throw their paint-covered hands into the air. Counselors round up their kids to rush them into the showers, get them cleaned up for dinner call while they clean up outside, pour out excess water and replace paints. The little ones are all worn out, dragging their feet to the mess hall with tired smiles on their faces, same way the counselors are.
“So much for a day off, huh?” Liam nudges Zayn with a smile.
“You’re still soaked,” Zayn tells him, pushing him away. “And look at this one,” he nods at Harry whose curls are damp and dotted with flecks of blue and yellow.
“Heyyy,” Harry whines at Zayn, bumping his hip into his.
They all flow into the mess hall, grab trays of food and chow down, hungry after their exerting time outside. It’s a nice kind of tired that everyone feels, a happy laziness after a fun day. Some of the kids might as well be falling asleep with their faces in their food, so the counselors get their groups back to their cabins. Harry congratulates his kids on a well fought battle, gives each one a high five as he steps from bed to bed.
“Good night, soldiers!” he calls out, saluting them with a smile.
“Good night, Mr. Harry,” they call back through their laughter.
~
Liam, Zayn and the gang all say their good nights to their kids and head to their bunk to hang for a bit. Olivia gets comfortable with Louis, something that’s been happening a lot lately- she probably doesn’t think anyone’s noticed, but they have- and Harry and Zayn share a bed, as usual. Everyone’s tired, yawning between words as they laugh about the day’s events, talk about how the summer’s going by terribly fast.
“Let’s not talk about that,” Harry interrupts, refusing to think about his first goodbye to these people till they day he has to say the words.
Zayn glances over at him from his spot beside him, rubbing his fingers gently over Harry’s thigh, because Harry’s told him that he doesn’t always like to think about the future, would rather stay in the moment. Liam nods solemnly. He gets it- he does this every summer and it’s never gotten easier to say goodbye.
The thing is, it doesn’t take long to get close to people here. And god, Harry’s gotten close. He falls in love with people so easily, the way he’s been told people fall in love with him, his charm, his bright, infectious smile. Zayn’s told him about his smile, how it’s one of his favorite things about Harry.
“Let’s talk about that kid who face-planted trying to catch someone with a bottle of paint. Tripped right over his own feet,” Niall laughs, Liam joining along when he remembers seeing the same thing.
Harry and Zayn shrink into their own little world for a moment, cuddling close to one another.
“Today was really fun,” Harry tells Zayn, smiling at the memory he’s sure he’ll always carry.
“Your kids looked like a bunch of warriors out there.”
“They did, huh? They took it very seriously.”
“And you were a fearless leader,” Zayn adds with a smile.
“Fearless, I like that,” Harry raises his eyebrows appreciatively.
“You two done up there?” Leigh teases from below them, shaking her head despite the smile on her face.
Their group fall into the familiar taunting banter they always do, laughing and getting too comfortable with one another.
“You two seem like you’d be into a threesome,” Louis nods at Zayn and Harry who are tangled up in bed. “Who’d you choose?”
“Anyone? Or just here?”
“Right here in this cabin,” Louis says with a smirk.
“Liam’s pretty fit…” Harry jokes, making eyes at Liam across the room who immediately chucks a pillow at Harry.
“You stay away from me.”
“Should I be worried?” Zayn chimes in and Harry and Liam chuckle.
“Not at all,” Harry reassures him.
Liam feigns offense, clutching at his chest.
“I thought you said I was fit!”
“Excuse me, Liam, just a second ago you were-“
“Look at that, a lover’s spat already and he hasn’t even gotten his shirt off,” Niall comments.
Louis cracks up at that and Liam becomes the subject of their taunting. In the middle of it all, Harry leans over the edge of the bed to where Leigh has been sat cross legged leaning against a pillow Harry lent her and says into her ear, “Would you say yes to a threesome?”
She gasps, swatting at Harry.
“In your dreams.”
Harry laughs, pushing himself back into position beside Zayn. They all stay like that, crowded into the guys’ bunk till Leigh and Niall notice that everyone about to fall asleep. Leigh gathers Olivia and tears her away from Louis with an apologetic smile.
Not long after they leave the rest of the boys fall asleep, leaving Zayn and Harry awake in bed.
“Want to go out to the dock again?” Harry asks.
“You think we’ll wake them in here?”
“Probably.”
“Alright, then.”
~
The air between them is buzzing tonight. They’d been anxious to touch each other all night, had to keep subtly reminding each other to keep their hands to themselves around everyone else.
They’re barely out the door when Zayn pulls at Harry, grabs at his curls and presses his hips against his in an effort to get closer to him, to kiss him like Harry’s air is the only thing he can breathe.
Harry doesn’t hesitate to kiss back, to lose himself in the softness of Zayn’s lips. Harry’s lips are like rose petals on Zayn’s, soft, sweet, so pink all the time like he was blessed with this natural lip tint. Zayn loves that, the pink of his lips and how sharply they contrast with the green of his eyes.
They kiss like teenagers, like this is the last time they’ll ever be able to kiss each other. Harry’s heart pounds in his chest and he lets his need get the best of him, pinning Zayn roughly against the wooden cabin wall.
Zayn giggles against Harry’s lips, reminds him that they have to be quiet and Harry’s skin blushes further when he murmurs an apology against Zayn’s mouth. Harry keeps Zayn pinned there, though, kisses his neck and nibbles softly at the skin. His curls tickle Zayn’s chin the way Zayn’s scruff sometimes tickles Harry.
“Zayn,” Harry breathes, pulling away from Zayn’s neck for a moment and letting his forehead rest against Zayn’s.
“Hm?”
“Can we go to the showers?”
Zayn stares into Harry’s eyes which are still so bright even in the dark.
“Yeah, babe,” he tells him, sliding out from in between Harry and the wall and linking his fingers with his, guiding him to the showers.
Harry’s about to tell Zayn to leave the lights off, but Zayn smiles slyly at him.
“There’s a dimmer,” he says.
“What?“ Harry laughs, turning on the shower- the one he’s discovered doesn’t work as well as the others, doesn’t have a hard water flow so it’s the quietest. “Why?”
Zayn shrugs, forgetting about the lights quickly when he closes the gap between him and Harry again.
There’s less of a rush now; the desperation is still there, but Harry goes slower, holds Zayn in that way that makes Zayn think Harry’s afraid to break him. Harry pulls at Zayn’s clothes and Zayn raises his arms into the air, biting his lip when Harry tugs off Zayn’s camp sweatshirt, his t-shirt getting stuck and coming off with it. Harry pulls his own top over his head, tosses it aside and does the same with his sweatpants.
Harry steps into the shower before Zayn can get a good look, so he joins Harry, stumbling out of his sweatpants and not wasting a moment when he steps in beside Harry, grabbing his face and pressing his lips harshly against Harry’s.
The water is cool and they know they shouldn’t leave it on so long, but every ridiculously typical story says that rules are made to be broken. Harry pins Zayn against the shower stall, kisses him harder than he ever has, tugs at Zayn’s lower lip with his teeth. Zayn welcomes it, explores Harry’s bare body with his hands, letting his fingers trail over the dips in his hips and stomach.
They welcome the heat of each other’s bodies under the cold water, watch each other with hungry eyes as Harry leans against Zayn.
Harry rests his palm on Zayn’s cheek, traces thumb over Zayn’s plump lower lip, takes a moment to admire how Zayn’s grey hair shines black and silver when it’s wet, how it drips onto his forehead.
Harry kisses him again, slower, more patient because Harry wants to memorize this, etch this naked, wet, vulnerable Zayn into his mind forever. He traces the tips of his fingers along Zayn’s side, down his hips. Zayn pulls him closer, hums against Harry’s lips when he feels Harry’s hard length against his thigh.
“Want you, Zayn,” Harry mumbles, voice slurred because of the water dripping over his lip, because his lips are too close to Zayn’s to properly speak.
“I know.”
“Want you,” Harry says again, letting his head drop to Zayn’s shoulder. He kisses the skin, drags his tongue over the cool, wet surface where tattoos decorate Zayn’s skin.
Zayn wants to hold back, doesn’t want to give too much of himself to Harry, not yet. He’s always so guarded; he knew he felt something for Harry from the first day they met, but he didn’t expect this. But Harry makes Zayn different, brings out a softer part of Zayn he reserves for himself, for his own thoughts, for his art.
“You have me, Harry,” Zayn whispers reverently.
Harry can feel the sincerity of Zayn’s words and the weight of them against his lips. He nods, cups Zayn’s cheek again and kisses him till they’re both panting, trying to catch their breath.
Harry can’t make himself wait any longer, can’t stop himself from brushing his lips over Zayn’s most sensitive spots; the hollow of his neck, his nipples. Harry teases and plays, works his mouth expertly over Zayn’s body till Zayn’s shaking with want, with his need for more. Zayn gently guides Harry’s head to join his lips with Zayn’s own again, links their fingers together and flips them around so Harry’s back is to the wall.
Zayn kisses Harry harder now, can feel Harry’s body relax against his when he takes control.
The feeling gets him harder, makes him want to do so much more to Harry than kiss him like this. He keeps it slow even as he feels Harry’s heart thrumming rapidly in his chest, can feel how badly he wants Zayn to do more. So Zayn plays with him, makes Harry wait, gives him a little taste when he palms Harry’s cock.
The gentle touch alone sets Harry off a little, makes him twitch against Zayn’s body.
Zayn slowly makes his way down Harry’s body, sucks at his neck till the skin is tender and reddened, bites at the muscle on his shoulder. He traces his tongue over the birds inked onto Harry’s chest and drags his teeth over Harry’s nipple, smiling up at him when the motion elicits a soft whimper from Harry.
Zayn hushes Harry gently, lets his eyes flicker up to meet Harry’s gaze when his lips find Harry’s leaves. He drops to his knees, traces the ink with his fingertips before he squeezes Harry’s hips and presses his lips to the skin in between the laurels.
“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Zayn says with a smile, brushing his lips faintly over the spot again.
Harry sighs pleasurably, waits to feel Zayn again.
Zayn is still teasing, touching Harry too softly, too quickly. Harry can’t help but to curse under his breath, pleading with Zayn through clenched teeth.
So Zayn gives way, massages Harry’s thick cock with his hand, up and down, blowing a soft breath over the tip before he rubs his thumb over the drop of precome that’s gathered there.
Harry blows out a breath of his own, can feel himself wanting to give in to Zayn’s touch already.
Zayn adjusts himself on his knees, flinches against the uncomfortably hard tile on the shower floor. He licks a stripe from the shaft of Harry’s cock to the tip, teasing him till Harry says ‘Please,” in that needy voice again.
Zayn nods, obeys Harry’s wish for more. Swirling his tongue over the tip, Zayn flattens it as he takes Harry in his mouth. Zayn’s cheeks hollow around Harry as he bobs his head slowly, looks up at Harry through wet lashes as he keeps his lips wrapped around him.
Zayn takes his time, keeps his rhythm slow and steady as his fist follows the motion of his mouth. Harry’s fingers slip through Zayn’s wet hair, presses against the back of his head to keep him in place. Harry thrusts softly into Zayn’s mouth, can’t find it in himself to keep his body still with the way Zayn is touching him right now.
“Fuh- fuck, Zayn,” he breathes, biting his lip roughly, “love your mouth”
Zayn moans around his mouthful of Harry, takes the words as encouragement, as an invitation to take Harry a little deeper, coming back up to swirl his tongue over the tip and then back down. Zayn’s fingertips press into Harry’s thigh, gripping him tighter when he feels his legs quake.
Harry moans weakly, bites down on his lip when Zayn takes him even deeper, lets his eyes fall closed and his head tip back. Zayn watches Harry give in to his mouth, grips Harry’s thigh harder when Harry thrusts again. Zayn moves a little faster, his mouth making soft, wet noises around Harry, Harry’s breath faster and sharper.
“Zayn, I’m gonna-“ He breaks off when Zayn tongues him again, swirling Harry’s cock in his mouth, “I’m gonna come,” Harry tries again, warning Zayn.
Zayn doesn’t move though, looks up at Harry and manages a nod to let him know he can. Zayn’s head bounces on Harry’s length, he sucks faster, takes him deep and finally Harry hits his climax, spurts into Zayn’s welcoming mouth.
Zayn moans with his mouth around Harry, his fist moving to help him along. Harry’s lips form a perfect, pink O, his hands splayed out trying to find something to hold onto as Zayn laps up the taste of him.
Zayn moves off Harry with a wet pop, kisses the inside of his thigh before he rises, standing on shaky legs in front of Harry. Harry doesn’t hesitate, takes Zayn’s face in his hands with wobbly fingers and kisses him dizzy. Harry wipes his thumb just below his bottom lip, right along his chin to clean off some excess and watches intensely when Zayn grabs Harry’s hand and sucks it off his thumb.
“What about you, Zayn?” Harry says, breathing heavily under the water, Zayn’s forehead against his own.
“I-“
“I’ve got you,” Harry says near his ear, sliding his hand down in between him and Zayn’s bodies to where he can feel Zayn’s cock against his thigh.
He wraps his fist around him, rubs his thumb in circles over the tip. Harry keeps Zayn against him, lets Zayn’s head drop to his shoulder when he massages him. Zayn grinds into Harry’s touch, grips Harry’s curls with one hand and kisses him roughly in between breaths.
Harry goes slow, then fast, then slow again, keeping Zayn on his toes. Zayn swallows his moans, muffles them in Harry’s neck as Harry jerks Zayn, curls his fist around him and pumps till he can feel Zayn getting weaker against him.
“C’mon, babe,” Harry urges against Zayn’s lips.
Zayn smacks his free hand against the wall, drags his fingertips against the side of the shower stall, his other hand tightening in Harry’s soaked curls. Zayn thrusts into Harry’s hand, bites down on Harry’s shoulder when he comes, desperately trying to muffle the sound of Harry’s name on his lips.
Zayn can feel the warm liquid on himself, knows some of it probably got on Harry too, but neither of them care. Harry lets go of Zayn, pushes him against the wall so he can lick the remnants off Zayn’s stomach, right off the tip, sending chills down Zayn’s spine.
They stay like that, leaning against one another, tired and satisfied, kissing lazily till they remember that they shouldn’t have spent so much time with the water on. Harry reaches above Zayn to shut it, relaxes against his body for a minute.
“Kiss me again,” Zayn says and Harry lifts his head from its spot on Zayn’s shoulder, doing as he’s told.
He pushes his tongue into Zayn’s mouth, moans involuntarily when Zayn slides his tongue over Harry’s, forces their bodies closer. They pull apart after the sloppy, wet kiss, stepping out of the shower and only putting half their clothes back on to hurry back to their cabin.
They go in as quietly as they can, trying to hide their laughter and panting. Harry kisses Zayn again, can’t help himself when he deepens it quickly.
Zayn smiles against Harry’s mouth, pushes him away and tells him to get his pajamas on. It’s not till their both undressed again that they realize how cold they both are, and if anything does tonight, that settles it. They’re sharing a bed. Zayn pulls on one of Harry’s warmer jumpers and Harry covers up with another, snuggling tightly against Zayn to try to warm up.
They barely toweled off, in too much of a hurry to lie down together. Now Zayn brushes Harry’s damp curls from his face, rolls on top of him and kisses him again.
It’s right then that Zayn almost says it, almost says those terribly beautiful words that everyone is so afraid of saying too soon. He’s looking into Harry’s eyes, listening to Harry’s breath, warmed up by Harry’s body and the borrowed sweatshirt. He almost says it, but he doesn’t.
Harry almost does too, opens his mouth to say the words, but decides against it. He doesn’t want to scare Zayn away; he just wants to keep him like this, keep himself like this.
Neither of them say it, but they kiss some more, laugh against each other’s lips, whisper to each other under the covers.
They can’t sleep; they’re too caught up in this, too caught up in one another. They lie beside each other, curl up with tangled legs and talk about the end of the summer, how grateful they are for the friends here who accept them, about how they hope they’re in the clear tomorrow.
Zayn talks about how much his little sisters will love Harry, how he’s not sure whether he’ll charm Zayn’s protective mother. Harry tells Zayn that he bets he will.
Harry tells Zayn that his mom would probably love him, but that his sister will be as big a pain in the arse as she is to Harry.
They talk like it’s going to be easy, like whatever comes after the summer is definite, will be full of more memories, they talk till they fall asleep in each other’s arms, hair wet and traces of smiles still on their faces.
As far as Harry’s concerned, it will be easy and there is a future, and Zayn knows he’ll do whatever it takes to make it happen. Because summer can’t last forever, but the warmth, the smiles, the memories they’ve made, the kisses they can’t stop sharing?
Maybe those can.