Archive of Our Own

It starts when Louis looks out the window and groans. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Harry notices first, Niall busy making another of their ridiculously overpriced iced coffees for the impatient businesswoman at the counter. “What’s up?”

“He’s back,” Louis complains, a whine hiding in the undercurrents of his voice.

“Who?” Niall asks, handing off the iced coffee to the woman, who doesn’t say thank you or even smile.

“Hipster Boy. He’s been here every day for a week, taking up one of the tables outside with his stupid sketchpad and never buying anything. I’m sick of it. Do we look like a park? No. He needs to move his little hipster ass off our patio.”

Niall spares a glance and spots the object of Louis’ frustration right away. Floppy, unkept hair, thick-framed glasses, the offending sketchpad, and papers spread out across the table. “Is it really that bad?” he asks without thinking, only realising his mistake when Harry snorts and Louis starts to splutter. “I mean,” he hastens to add, “what harm’s he doing, really?”

Louis quirks an eyebrow as if to ask, Really, Horan? You’re really going to question me? He points to the sign, posted right outside their door, that reads No Loitering. “He’s breaking the law, for one. And I hate hipsters. Why can’t he find less mainstream coffee shop to lurk outside of?”

Niall shakes his head and grabs a washcloth, meaning to start washing down the counter. Harry takes advantage of the lull between customers and moves to the sink to wash the blender.

“Niall, go out and tell him to leave.”

Niall looks up at Louis, eyes wide and mouth gaping. “Me?” he asks after a long second. “Why me?”

“Because,” Louis says, enunciating slowly and clearly, “I’m the manager, that’s why. Besides, Liam isn’t here and you’re the next most intimidating out of all of us.”

Harry snickers and Niall’s eyebrows go up. “Liam? Intimidating? Are we talking about the same guy?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean. Yeah, he’d apologize the whole time, but he’s pretty built. Hipster Boy would be stupid to pick a fight with him. Now go, Niall, or I’ll be forced to dock your pay.”

“You don’t have that power, you asshole,” Niall mutters. He still drops the washcloth back into the sink, wipes his hands off on the towel, and heads toward the door.

He can do this, he tells himself. He can be firm and insistent and polite, all at the same time. The bell on the door jingles when he opens it and he practices for a moment in his head.

He tries, he really does.

He comes back inside five minutes later with a charcoal sketch of their street in his hand and an apologetic smile for Harry, relieved that Louis went on a break and he doesn’t have to explain his obvious failure just yet.

“You’re useless, you know that?”

Niall shrugs in Louis’ general direction as he pours a cup of coffee. “Should’ve sent Liam.”

Louis straightens, abandoning his attempt at restocking the cookies in the display case. “He took the day off, otherwise I would’ve. Liam, unlike some other employees, has a healthy respect for the chain of command and the fact that I am the manager.”

Niall snorts. “You’ve been an ass about that promotion ever since you got it, you know that?”

Louis huffs and disappears into the back room, probably to sulk.

Niall waits a few minutes, until all the customers have been served and there’s a moment of peace in the shop. He pours another cup of coffee, adding some cream and a couple squirts of chocolate to take off the edge of the bitterness. Harry shoots him a knowing look but Niall ignores him, heads for the door.

“Hey,” he says, standing at the table and glancing down at the drawings spread on the table.

Hipster Boy glances up and smiles. “Hi. You bought one of my sketches yesterday. The street view, yeah?”

Niall nods and tries not to notice how soft Hipster Boy’s eyes are and how they contrast with the sharp angles of his cheekbones. “Yeah. Yeah. It’s good. They’re all good.” He reaches down with the hand not holding the coffee and touches one of the papers on the table. “They’re really good.”

Hipster Boy shrugs. “They’re just quick sketches. Not that great.”

Niall shakes his head in polite disagreement, taking in the detail and talent evident in the drawings. “Nah, man. I bet you could get a lot more than five dollars for these. Honest.” Hipster Boy is quiet and Niall thinks he can see the hint of a blush on his dark-toned cheeks. “I’m Niall, by the way.”

Hipster Boy glances up at him, fiddling with his pencil. “Zayn,” he says after a pause.

Niall smiles. Something about this boy makes him want to get to know him, want to be friends. “Zayn.” He says it experimentally, liking the way it feels on his tongue. “Tell you what, Zayn. Take this,” he hands over the coffee, “and if a short, angry looking pixie comes out and tells you to get lost, tell ‘im you’re a customer. Got it?”

Zayn eyes the coffee and licks his lips, looking for all the world like he’s trying to make up his mind. “I... can’t,” he finally says, offering the cup back. “I can’t afford this. Thanks, but... Sorry.”

Niall doesn’t move to take the cup. “Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.” He thinks he sees another hint of a blush covering Zayn’s cheeks and that makes it worth every penny.

He smiles for the rest of the day, Harry’s knowing look and Louis’ bitching about Hipster Boy doing nothing to ruin his good mood.

It becomes their little routine. Zayn shows up on their patio in the afternoon with his sketchbook and drawings, and Niall supplies him with a cup of coffee to prevent Louis from following up on his threat to send Liam out to run him off.

Niall starts opting to spend his breaks out on the patio with Zayn instead of by himself in the back room. They talk, about nothing and everything. Niall can’t say for sure where Zayn is from or where he lives or why he sits in front of their coffee shop all day, but he knows what books Zayn likes, what his favorite songs are, what he looks like when he’s focused on his drawing and everything else seems to fade into the background.

Louis still bitches about him and Niall finds himself saying one day, “His name is Zayn. Not Hipster Boy.”

Louis gives him this little smirk and nudges Harry. “Hey. Hey, Haz. I think Niall has the hots for Hipster Boy.”

“I do not,” Niall protests and Harry stifles a laugh as he counts out a customer’s change.

Louis, famous for never knowing when to let go of something, pushes. “You do. I think you wanna pull Hipster Boy into the back room and blow him until he’s groaning your name and begging you to bang him.”

Niall feels his face heat up because he can’t deny that the image Louis’ suggestion provides is tempting. “I do not, so shut your hole,” he says forcefully.

Harry clears his throat in warning and Niall turns, sees Zayn standing inside the door holding his sketchbook and the coffee cup that Niall took out to him earlier. This time, the red staining his cheeks is obvious, even from behind the counter, and Niall hates both Louis and himself.

“Um.” Zayn doesn’t look at Louis or Niall, glances at Harry and then to the cup in his hand. “I...” His movements jerky, he dumps the cup into the trash and hastily retreats out the door and disappears down the street.

Niall turns on Louis, his embarrassment and guilt bubbling into anger. “What the fucking hell, Louis?”

Louis has the nerve to look completely unrepentant. “It was a joke. Not my fault neither you or your boy toy have a sense of humor.”

Harry glares at Louis and that simple gesture makes Niall feel a little better. He’s not just over-reacting, then, if even Harry thinks Louis overdid it. Harry sidles over to Niall. “You should talk to him. Call him or something.”

Niall scrubs at the counter, anger still simmering under the surface. “He doesn’t have a phone.”

Louis snorts. “What, are they too mainstream for him?”

Niall and Harry both turn to glare at him, Niall adding a middle finger to his gesture. Harry turns back to Niall and claps a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. He’ll be back, yeah? He’ll come back and you can explain that Louis is a jealous ass who’s just upset that his boyfriend broke up with him.”

Louis yelps in protest. “Harold! You promised not to tell!”

The bell at the door rings and Harry turns back to the register. “You shouldn’t have acted like a complete bastard, then.”

Niall decides Harry’s right. He’ll talk to Zayn, let him know that it was just a bad joke. He’ll fix this.

Zayn doesn’t come back to the coffee shop for nearly two weeks and Niall starts to worry that he really fucked this up, but he doesn’t know how.

When Niall sees Zayn again, it isn’t on the patio of their shop. It’s his day off and he’s walking past a small plaza with a fountain, on his way to the market, when he sees the familiar flop of dark hair and papers spread out across the bench, held down with small pebbles.

He stops and watches for a minute, watches Zayn make a few light lines and then smudge something with the pad of his thumb. He considers continuing on. It’s clear Zayn has been avoiding him and it hurts because he thought they were getting along.

But he’s never been one to hold a grudge, so he walks over to the bench and smiles when Zayn looks up at him. “Hey. Been a while.”

Zayn hesitates. Niall sees it in eyes that are cautious instead of warm and friendly. “Yeah,” he says finally, licking his lips. “I needed something new to sketch.”

Niall nods and looks over the sketches strewn across the bench. There’s drawings of the fountain, of children playing, of an older couple holding hands, of teen skateboarding down the sidewalk. “Listen,” he says, eyes still on the drawings and not on Zayn. “About what Lou said... He can be a real dick sometimes. Doesn’t think about what he says. It was a bad attempt at a joke and I’m sorry you had to hear it.”

Zayn doesn’t say anything and Niall glances over. His head is down, fingers tight around his pencil, looking for all the world like he’s struggling to make a decision.

“I don’t like being the butt of someone’s joke,” he finally says just when Niall is beginning to think he’ll get the silent treatment. “I don’t— I’ve been there before, I’ve always— I’m, I’m not saying he has to like me, I don’t expect him to. But...” Zayn trails off for a moment and Niall stays silent, hovering in front of him and feeling like Zayn still has something left to say.

Sure enough, several seconds later, he finishes quietly, “I don’t like when people make me feel like trash. Like I’m less.”

Niall shuffles his feet. He knows another apology won’t change anything, won’t erase what Louis said that day. But he needs to say something. Zayn needs to know he doesn’t think of him as trash or less, in any way. “I liked talking to you. You’re interesting and I wish I had a chance to get to know you better. Maybe... Can we hang out sometime? Away from the coffee shop, maybe?”

Zayn starts gathering his sketches, stacking them carefully on top of each other and fitting them into the back of his sketchbook. He stands and Niall takes a step back, not wanting to crowd him even though Zayn has a few inches on him. “I have to go. But if, if you give me your number, I’ll call you and we can... talk. Or something.”

Niall nods, face splitting with his grin. “Great! Here...” He snags Zayn’s sketchbook, flips to a blank page, jots his number in the corner, and tries not to think about how... not platonic this feels.

He and Zayn part ways with a wave. He alternates between worrying that Zayn won’t call and worrying that Zayn will call and he can’t decide which would be worse.

Niall doesn’t tell Louis, for obvious reasons. He doesn’t tell Harry, either, because if Harry knows something, it’s only a matter of time before Louis knows it, too. And he doesn’t tell Liam because Liam is honestly the worst liar he’s ever met.

He’s not trying to keep it a secret. It just sort of... happens.

His phone is ringing.

He gropes for the alarm, pushes the snooze button a few times, but his attempts do nothing to silence the irritating tune. Finally, his ringtone registers in his sleep-addled brain and he pulls his phone over and cracks one eye open to glare at the display.

7:13 a.m. Unknown caller.

“H’llo?” he grumbles after several excruciating seconds of trying to remember how to accept the damn call.

“Niall? Hi. This is. Um. Zayn. Did I wake you up?”

Niall sits up and reaches for the switch on the lamp, knocking a stack of books and papers to the floor in the attempt. He finally gets it and he blinks against the brightness. “No, no. ‘M awake.”

“Are you sure? I can call back later.”

“No, ‘s fine. ‘M up now.” He swings his legs over the side of the bed and slouches forward, trying his best to kick-start his brain. He doesn’t function this early in the morning, not normally.

“Okay. You had— We were going to make plans, right? I know you usually work in the afternoons and evenings and I— I don’t really have any ideas but. Um. Was there something you were thinking about? Or did you just want to hang out?”

Niall runs a hand through his hair. “Uhh.” Not the most intelligent thing he’s ever said, but it’s early and he hasn’t had anything resembling caffeine yet. “There’s that new superhero movie that just came out, if you wanted to go see it.” Zayn had mentioned once that comic books were what inspired him to start drawing and Niall figures it’s a safe bet.

Instead, he’s greeted with silence. Well, as silent as it can be with the sounds of traffic leaking through the other end.

“Uh, Zayn?”

“I’m here. It’s just...”

“You have one minute remaining. Please insert another fifty cents to continue talking.”

“Shit,” Zayn mutters and then there’s the sound of scrambling. “Could’ve sworn I had another quarter here somewhere.”

And then the pieces fall into place. All the times he brought Zayn a coffee and Zayn looked at it like he was trying to decide whether he should offer to pay. How he’s never actually seen Zayn buy anything. How Zayn sells his drawings for five dollars on the street.

“Aw, shit,” he echoes just as the sound of coins being fed in travels across the line. “Sorry, man. Scratch that. Look, I know a guy who knows a guy who works for this club and they’re hosting a band tonight. ‘M pretty sure I’d be able to get us in.”

Another pause, followed by a hesitant, “Tonight?”

“Yeah, but if that’s a problem—”

“No, no, it’s fine. What’s the address?”

Of course Niall doesn’t know and it takes a minute of frantic searching for him to find the business card he had carelessly tossed onto the kitchen counter. When he finally reads it off and Zayn promises to meet him there at 8:00, he tells himself he’s just happy to spend an evening with a friend. Nothing more.

He smiles all day, prompting Louis to ask every fifteen minutes who he’s going on a date with.

Not even Liam believes him when he insists it’s not a date.

It’s late when they leave the club. Niall is buzzed, just a little more than Zayn because Zayn wouldn’t let Niall pay for his drink and Niall didn’t want to get drunk alone. They both enjoyed the band, Zayn probably a little bit more than Niall.

Niall says, They have good voices. And their music was catchy. I’d go to another of their gigs.

Zayn says, Their harmony was unbelievable. Must’ve taken a long time to find such a good blend. The way they layered their voices added depth to their songs other bands wouldn’t be able to achieve. And the juxtaposition of the upbeat melodies with the dark, haunting lyrics is genius. They’re going to make it, mark my words.

Not for the first time, Niall wonders just who this kid is. A walking contradiction, he thinks.

But then Zayn is gesturing down a street, a different way than Niall is headed, and saying, “I’m this way. See you later?”

Niall changes his course, shoves his hands in his pockets, and shrugs. “I’ll go with you. Safety in numbers and all that shit.”

Zayn shakes his head. “Nah, it’s no big deal. I’ll be fine on my own, trust me.”

And Niall knows he’s not going to win this one in a head-to-head battle so he grins. “I know. But if I pretend to walk you home, we can talk some more. You can tell me more about the juxtaposition of happy music and depressing words and I can act like I know what the hell you’re going on about.”

Zayn smiles, just a twitch of the lips, and Niall knows he’s won.

They talk more than they walk. Every now and then, Zayn will get this determined look on his face like he’s going to make Niall understand what he’s saying and they’ll stop on a corner, standing under a street light, while Zayn gestures and explains and expounds. Niall doesn’t mind. He likes hearing Zayn’s theories, on everything from music to the Impressionists and the differences between oil and acrylic paints.

“Bet your professors loved you,” he laughs at one point.

Instead of agreeing, Zayn offers a half-hearted shrug and his cheeks darken. “Never went to college.”

Niall gapes and it’s his turn to stop them on a street corner. “You never went to college?” he repeats rather dumbly. “Then how do you know all this shit?”

Zayn shrugs again, but this time there’s a hint of a smile. “I read, moron.”

They continue on, both with their journey and their banter.

The next time Zayn stops, he’s quieter and his expression is guarded. “This is me,” he says quietly, jerking his thumb over his shoulder to point to the building behind him.

Niall glances up and frowns for a minute. He’s only slightly buzzed but he still struggles to fit the words into what he knows about Zayn.

Saint Margaret’s Shelter for the Homeless.

He looks back to Zayn and says, slow and easy, “Yeah, okay.” Zayn still looks hesitant, like he’s expecting... more. So Niall adds, “Call me when you wanna hang out again, okay?”

Zayn nods and his posture relaxes. “Yeah, okay.”

Niall grins and they part with a wave. He walks away in search of a cab and can’t blame it on the alcohol when he finds himself wondering if Zayn would let him kiss him.

Yep, most certainly not a date.

They hang out several more times before Niall invites him over.

It’s not so much a thought-out invitation as it is Zayn calling him up and Niall saying, “Hey, I just ordered a pizza. Wanna come over?”

A half-hour later, someone buzzes his apartment and for the first time in his life, Niall is disappointed to hear the pizza delivery guy on the intercom.

But Zayn arrives shortly after that and Niall lets him go through his DVDs while he tries to find a couple of clean plates.

“Sorry, man,” he calls out after a futile search. “No plates. Paper towel okay?” He glances over his shoulder, the small studio apartment meaning that the couch and TV are only a few feet away.

Zayn nods, still sorting through a stack of DVDs. “Yeah. Yeah, that works fine. Hey, how about this one?” He holds up Niall’s copy of The Dark Knight and Niall grins.

“Course. Great movie.” He grabs the roll of paper towels and heads over to get the movie started. He sees Zayn glance at the cardboard box he uses instead of a coffee table and the mattress in the corner with a couple of blankets and a pillow tossed in the middle. “Rent’s too expensive to afford the amenities,” he says by way of explanation.

Zayn gives a small smile. “It’s a place, at least. But... aren’t there cheaper places outside of the city?”

Niall shrugs and navigates through the DVD menu. “Yeah, probably. But this is close to the school. And I really wanted to live in the city, you know?”

Zayn lifts out a slice of pizza and takes a bite, settling back into the couch. “Yeah. I do. What’re you studying?”

Niall laughs and grabs a slice for himself. “Dunno yet. Isn’t that stupid? My parents wanted me to go to college, so here I am and I have no fucking idea what I’m doing. And at the same time...” He swallows and doesn’t look at Zayn when he continues with a subdued, “At the same time, there’s people like you who’re smart and would get more out of college than I ever will and...” He lets out a short huff. “Life sucks, you know? Like, who decides who gets which opportunities, who’s going to succeed and all that shit? There are plenty of people who deserve it more than me.”

Zayn shrugs and takes a bite, eyes glued on the television. “Some people just get dealt a shitty hand. It’s no one’s fault, it just happens. And yeah, sometimes it really sucks, but what else can you do? You still have to play the game. I figure if you have something you’re passionate about and people to support you, life’s looking pretty good.”

He says it so casually, like it’s no big deal, like he’s not the least bit jealous of other people or offended that Niall brought it up, and it’s just so Zayn that—

That Niall really wants to kiss him.

He doesn’t though, because as much as he wants to kiss Zayn, he also wants preserve this. Their discussions about art and music that Niall barely understands but he takes part in because of the way Zayn’s eyes light up. Their walks through the city that inevitably end with Zayn pointing out how the light is hitting a certain structure and what colors he’d use to paint the people around them. The easiness of their friendship that Niall is afraid will disappear when Zayn turns him down.

So he doesn’t move and the space between him and Zayn feels like a gaping chasm and at the same time, he can feel the warmth radiating from Zayn and the faint brush of his skin every time he shifts.

And just for a moment, when Zayn is leaning forward and tension draws his body tight and Niall nudges his shoulder and forgets to pull back, Niall things that maybe he’s getting in too deep.

But then Zayn leans into him, shoulder to shoulder, and his body relaxes and the moment is gone.

“It’s been over a month since your friend’s been here,” Harry points out one evening while they’re in the middle of closing the shop.

Niall doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know whether he should tell Harry that he’s hanging out with Zayn again that night, the fourth night in a row. So he just nods and feels bad for letting Harry come to the wrong conclusion.

“I’m sorry, Niall. Lou is... Well, he’s trying. It’s been hard for him. He doesn’t do single well.”

“I know,” Niall agrees. “And he has been more tolerable lately.”

Harry drops the subject then, though he does sneak Niall suspicious glances on the days Niall can’t seem to keep a smile off his face.

When it happens, it’s a gut reaction. Niall doesn’t have time to think about it until it’s over and by then it’s too late.

They’re in the library, Zayn pointing out his favorite books and Niall pointing out the few he’s had to read for school. It’s something of a competition, though Niall’s scoring it like golf and Zayn’s scoring it like basketball.

Then Zayn pulls one off the shelf, runs a finger down the spine, and shows Niall where he’s marked his favorite bits because he’s the only person who ever checks it out. And there’s that light in his eyes again and it’s so fucking beautiful and...

Niall kisses him.

He rocks forward onto the balls of his feet, giving him the few inches he needs to press his lips to Zayn’s. His lips are a little chapped but Niall doesn’t mind. It feels nice. Warm. Familiar.

Then Niall’s brain catches up with him and he jerks away, avoiding Zayn’s wide eyes and parted lips. “Sorry,” he croaks, then clears his throat. “Shit. Sorry. I-I... I didn’t— Shit.”

Zayn has a death grip on the book he’d been showing Niall and Niall glances up, just for a moment, just to gauge Zayn’s response. He looks up in time to see Zayn lick his lips and shit. He knows it was a mistake, that he’s fucked everything up, but now all he wants to do is kiss him again.

Niall shuffles back, ready to give some excuse and get the hell out of there. But then Zayn speaks and it halts him in his tracks.

“I-I thought... you’re straight?”

It’s hesitant and questioning and Niall can’t stop the slightly hysterical laugh that breaks out. “No. I’m, uh. No.”

Zayn shifts his weight and Niall watches as he slides the book back into its place on the shelf. This is it, he thinks. Zayn is going to leave and he’ll never see him again. In one stupid, idiotic move, he lost one of his closest friends.

Then Zayn steps closer, still hesitant, and presses his lips to Niall’s.

The nerves that had been twisting his stomach settle, transforming into a pool of heat. He moves his lips against Zayn’s, sucking in the other boy’s bottom lip and reaching out to settle a hand on Zayn’s waist.

Zayn shifts a little closer, his fingers wrapping around Niall’s shoulder and tugging him in. His fingers, normally long and graceful, dig into his shirt and the pressure, on his shoulder and on his lips, is comfortable.

He isn’t sure how much time passes—a minute, five, ten—but he pulls away again, their lips parting but their hands staying. And this time, the regret he feels is only that he had to stop. He looks at Zayn, at his wet lips and lidded eyes and halting breaths, and gives him a slow, lazy smile. Niall decides that kissing Zayn is his new favorite pastime. It feels calm and easy and...

So very them.

They’re frozen there, in the back of the library with Zayn’s hand on his shoulder and his on Zayn’s waist.

Niall lets his hand slide down a fraction of an inch and he rubs his thumb back and forth across Zayn’s hip and loves the way Zayn’s breath hitches and his eyes lose their focus for a second. “It’s pizza night. You want some?”

And just like that, they’re back to being friends. Zayn laughs and says sure, since he knows Niall’s going to buy a large pizza whether he stays or not. They leave the library and walk back toward Niall’s apartment and if their hands brush a little more often or if Niall leans a little closer to Zayn, neither of them mention it.

But Niall still wants to kiss him again.

“I’m bored,” Niall announces halfway through the movie, his voice tinged with a whine.

Zayn keeps his eyes fixed on the screen and nudges Niall’s knee with his. “Shut it. I’m interested in the movie. Go, I dunno, work on a paper or something for school.”

“It’s summer. And what’s the point of hanging out if we’re doing two different things?” Niall leans his head on Zayn’s shoulder, hoping for some of his friend’s attention to be shifted onto him.

Instead, all he gets is a half-hearted attempt at a brush off.

Niall stays still for a moment, then with an idea forming, lifts his head up. Zayn still doesn’t move and that pushes him forward. He leans closer, nuzzles Zayn’s neck with his nose, feels the other boy tense.

He smiles but Zayn keeps his eyes fixed on the television. Niall inches closer, replacing his nose with his lips. He sucks at the soft skin on Zayn’s neck and Zayn relaxes, angling his head to expose more of his neck to Niall.

But he still doesn’t look away from the movie.

It’s a challenge, one that Niall is more than happy to accept. He works his way down Zayn’s neck, stopping to suck a mark onto the side before he travels lower and scrapes his teeth over Zayn’s collarbone.

Zayn moans but it’s muffled, like he’s trying to keep quiet. Niall smiles against his flesh, loving the feel of it beneath his lips. He leans closer and keeps pressing warm, open-mouthed kisses along Zayn’s collarbone, well-aware that both of them are breathing ragged.

“Oh, fuck it,” Zayn groans and Niall loves how his normally smooth voice sounds throaty and hoarse and needy. “Just fucking kiss me already.”

Niall does and this time it’s different. There’s a sense of urgency that wasn’t there the other times and seconds after their lips have connected, Zayn opens his mouth to him. He nudges Zayn onto his back, sprawls across him, and hands are trailing down his back and he pushes deeper into Zayn’s mouth and his hips press into Zayn’s and they both groan into each other’s mouths and Zayn’s legs wrap around him and—

Niall breaks the kiss, buries his face in Zayn’s neck instead and presses open-mouthed, gasping kisses to every bit of flesh he can find. One of Zayn’s hands is knotted in his hair and his grip tightens and he thrusts his hips up into Niall’s. Lost in the moment and the sensations—and oh fuck, that feels good, that feels really, really—Niall responds with a thrust of his own and it takes them a moment to find a rhythm but then they have it, Niall driving down as Zayn thrusts up. Their jeans provide just the right amount of friction and he can feel Zayn’s boner rubbing against his with every movement and—

“Fuck,” he gasps and feels Zayn’s answering breathless chuckle. “This is so much better than jerking off.”

The hand in his hair tugs, pulling his head up so that he’s looking at Zayn. His cheeks are flushed and his lips are bruised and for a moment Niall is caught up in how good he looks.

“Ni, have you— Have you thought about me while you— jerk off?”

Niall cheeks burn and he grins. “Fuck yes.” His voice drops and he never knew he could sound sexy, but it’s there when he adds, “All the fucking time.”

“Oh god,” Zayn whines, his eyes closing and his head falling back. “I’m—”

Niall feels the shudder run through Zayn’s body, feels the hand on his back and the one in his hair tighten painfully, feels the desperation when Zayn thrusts upward hard and then goes limp beneath him.

His own breathing starts to catch and he knows he’s close, he won’t be far behind. He drives a little bit harder into Zayn and then it hits him. Zayn got off to finding out Niall thinks about him when he’s masturbating. He bites down on his lip, presses his face into Zayn’s shoulder, and digs his fingers into Zayn’s hips and comes.

He doesn’t relinquish his grip on Zayn’s hips, even as every other muscle in his body goes slack and he slumps on top of Zayn and struggles to catch his breath.

“Shit, that was good,” Zayn mumbles, sounding halfway to sleep already. Niall glances up. His eyes are closed, there’s a sheen of sweat across his forehead, his cheeks are stained red, and Niall thinks he’s never looked better.

“Yeah?”

Zayn smiles, cracking an eye open to look at Niall when he echoes Niall’s earlier, “Fuck yes.” He closes his eye again and relaxes his hands enough to rub slow, tired circles across Niall’s scalp. “Jerking off in the shelter is frowned upon. Catholic, you know. It’s been a while for me.”

Niall inches up and presses a lazy kiss to Zayn’s jaw. “Is it, maybe, something you’d be interested in doing again?” he asks, figuring nothing he says now can make things awkward.

Zayn turns, finds Niall’s lips with his own and this time the urgency is gone, leaving just the warm familiarity that Niall loves. “’f you’re okay with it, then yeah. ‘course I wanna do it again.” He peels his eyes open and just watching the effort it takes is enough to make Niall want to close his. “But I need to head back to the shelter. No one gets in after lights out.”

Niall glances down toward their crotches, feeling the dampness already seeping into his jeans and knowing Zayn’s can’t be much better. “You can stay here tonight,” he offers without much thought. “I’ve got a clean pair of pants around here somewhere and you can take a shower.”

Zayn hesitates and Niall adds, “Besides, this is a masturbation-friendly zone. No shame in taking care of the morning wood.”

And just like that, everything is okay. Zayn shoves him and he gets up to look for something clean for the both of them. Zayn takes his shower first, then Niall, and when they settle down in Niall’s worn mattress on the floor, Zayn stays on one side and Niall stays on the other.

And if Niall wakes up during the night with a face pressed against his neck and an arm settled over his waist and a semi rubbing into his hip, he doesn’t mention it in the morning.

It surprises him, how easy it all is. Zayn still calls him up, still asks if they can hang out, and they still go out and have fun together. They’re friends and some days, that’s all they need to be.

But some days... Some days Niall will suggest going out and Zayn asks if they can stay in and it’s an unspoken signal because Niall has pizza in the fridge for later when he gets there and they make out and jerk each other off and then settle in to watch a movie and eat and those are the nights Zayn stays.

And Niall thinks that maybe, when people say that there’s no such thing as friends with benefits, it’s because they don’t know Niall and Zayn. Nothing has changed, not really. They’re still friends, maybe better friends now than before because they know each other better and know how to help.

Except... He wants to ask Zayn to stay. Not forever, but not just when they get off together. It could work, he thinks, because they’re friends who sometimes jerk each other off. But he doesn’t ask. He doesn’t want Zayn to think he’s pushing for something more like a relationship and things are so good the way they are.

“Oh my god,” Louis squeals when Niall comes in for his shift. He jumps the counter in one smooth motion, grinning like an idiot, and spins Niall around. “You had sex!”

Niall stumbles back and shoots a meaningful glance at the handful of customers in the shop. They’ve all been warned about making inappropriate comments on the job and it makes Niall wonder if any of the other managers actually met Louis before they promoted him. “What’re you talking about?”

Louis is beaming and pride is practically rolling off him in waves. “You’re glowing, Horan. Like, post-sex glowing. Which means, given the ungodly hour, that you either had a very good one night stand who was willing to give you a parting gift, or...” He leans in and whispers in a conspiratorial whisper that every single person in the coffee shop can hear, “Or you’ve got someone staying with you that wakes you up with sex.”

Niall shakes his head and laughs. “In your dreams, Lou.” Him and Zayn... they give each other hand jobs and jerk off together, but it’s not sex. Not really.

But still, Louis’ assumption was a little closer to the truth than he’s comfortable with him being. So he grins at Louis and wiggles his fingers. “I’ve just got the magic touch, is all.” It’s not a lie—he did help Zayn out this morning and Zayn did make a comment about his wicked fingers before returning the favor.

And he enjoys seeing Louis’ face scrunch up in disgust and jump back as quickly as he can. “Horan! Ew! You’re washing your hands in lava before touching anything in this coffee shop!”

He’s not keeping Zayn a secret. It’s just... private. And he’s not ready to tell anyone yet. Not when he doesn’t know how to explain that they’re friends and they do fun things, but they’re not dating.

It’s simpler this way.

They’re lying side by side in the dark, the traffic loud outside the window. Niall relaxes into the mattress and pulls his blanket up around his neck, sleepy and sated after their last round. His eyelids feel heavy and he’s just starting to lose his grip on consciousness when Zayn speaks and drags him back.

“I got a job today.” His tone suggests that it’s no big deal, simply an afterthought to be mentioned at the end of the day after they’ve both had their fun and are ready to turn in.

Niall jerks back into wakefulness, turning on his side so he can make out Zayn’s profile from the city lights pouring in his window. “That’s great!” he exclaims and leans over to plant a kiss on Zayn’s mouth. He can feel Zayn’s shy smile and knows he’s proud, in his own quiet way. “Congratulations,” he continues when he pulls back, just far enough so he can see the light reflecting in Zayn’s eyes. “Where at?”

Zayn reaches out, puts his hand on Niall’s waist, and tugs him back to hover over him.

This is new, Niall thinks but he complies all the same. He straddles Zayn and presses another kiss to his mouth. They’ve never fooled around on Niall’s mattress before, preferred to save that for the couch or the kitchen or against the door. He’s not complaining, though, and if it makes this whole thing feel a little more like a relationship...

They can deal with that in the morning.

Zayn pulls back this time and mumbles, “Bookstore. Old one. Not a chain. Hired me because I’m familiar with the classics.” Every word is a hot breath against Niall’s jaw and he pulls back a little because this feels... not quite urgent and not quite friendly, but... something else entirely.

Something new.

Zayn surges up and their lips meet again, just for a moment before Zayn opens his mouth and Niall dips his tongue inside. One of them moans and Niall isn’t sure if it was him or Zayn until he decides he really doesn’t care and there are more important things to be thinking about.

Like the fact that Zayn has been looking for a steady job for ages and it finally paid off. Like the fact that they’re both getting hard again. Like the fact that Zayn is starting to buck up into him and yeah, this is fun and hot, but Zayn deserves something... celebratory.

Something new.

Niall steadies his hands on Zayn’s hips, pushing him down into the mattress, and the loss of friction is enough to make Zayn whimper into his mouth. He smiles and slides his tongue across Zayn’s soothingly.

One hand remaining on his hip, Niall drags the other across to the front of Zayn’s boxers, palms him, and loves the fingers that dig into his back in response. He pulls his mouth away from Zayn’s and instead starts kissing down his jaw and neck.

“If you’re going to jerk me off, just fucking do it already,” Zayn growls breathlessly and Niall chuckles and presses a slow, sloppy kiss to Zayn’s collarbone.

When Niall reaches Zayn’s ribcage, Zayn tries to reach down and take care of his growing problem himself. Niall grabs his wrist and pushes his hand back up and nips at the sensitive flesh on his chest in warning.

When Niall reaches Zayn’s bellybutton, the other boy is squirming and trying his best to rut up against Niall in spite of the hand on his hip firmly holding him down. His breathing is ragged and scattered with a breathless stream of, “Fuck, Niall. I’m going to, going to kill you for this. God damn it. Just—just let me— Niall. Fuck fuck fuck fu—”

Niall presses an open kiss to the fabric of Zayn’s boxers and Zayn cuts off midstream. A strangled groan escapes from his throat and his hand finds Niall’s hair and Niall knows he doesn’t have long. Slipping his fingers inside the waist of Zayn’s boxers, he pulls them down just far enough and wraps a hand around the base of Zayn’s shaft.

Zayn thrusts upward and Niall doesn’t waste time with trying to still him. Instead, he licks a stripe up the length of him and when Zayn stills with a gasping breath, he wraps his lips around him and goes down.

For a moment, the only movement Zayn seems capable of is fisting his hand in Niall’s hair and digging his feet into the mattress. Then, as Niall finds a rhythm with his mouth and hand, Zayn ever so gently thrusts upward. Niall meets him, taking more of him into his mouth, and then swirls his tongue around the head as he pulls back slightly. Zayn thrusts again and Niall hums softly, encouraging.

Niall feels Zayn tensing underneath him, the moans pouring from his mouth getting more breathless and nearly lost in his panting. A strained, “N-Niall,” is all the warning he gets and he swallows what he can.

He gently sucks Zayn until he goes limp, then tucks him back inside his boxers and sits back on his heels. Zayn is always a sight after he comes. Sweaty and breathless and absolutely wrecked and perhaps the most beautiful thing Niall has ever seen. With that sight spread before him, it doesn’t take him long to take care of himself.

He wipes his hands on his own boxers and crawls back up to lie down next to Zayn. Instead of staying on his side of the mattress, Zayn rolls over and cuddles into Niall, nuzzling his neck.

“Fuck,” he says, chest still heaving. He presses a tired kiss into Niall’s neck and shifts in closer, tangling their legs together. “Wish I’d gotten a job long time ago now.”

Niall chuckles and he’s too tired, too happy, too blissed out to wonder how they can continue to be friends who happen to fool around sometimes after this.

Louis gives him one glance the next morning and rolls his eyes in disgust. “Please tell me you had sex. Because if you’re looking that fucked out from jerking off, I’m going to start to wonder why the hell I’m not dating you.”

Niall thinks of Zayn’s insistence that he only got the job because of Niall and if anyone deserved a blow job, it was Niall. He nearly missed the bus for that one, but it was worth every minute of it.

He grins and tells Louis, “Yeah, I had sex.”

Harry slaps his back, Liam asks them to keep all such discussions to the back room because they’re all going to be written up if they’re not careful, and Louis...

Louis spends two hours writing congrats on the sex!!! with icing on a dozen cookies before boxing them up and telling Niall to enjoy them with his sex partner. He also adds that he threw the extra icing in there, too, so Niall and his mystery man can have a treat and then a treat.

Between Niall juggling the start of a new semester and his job and Zayn working, they don’t see each other as often as they used to.  Niall hates it, hates that they go from hanging out all the time and being friends and acting stupid to only seeing each other once or twice a week and then only having time and energy to send each other off to sleep with a quick hand job.

He shows up at Zayn’s bookstore one day three weeks into the semester, textbooks in hand.  There’s a table in one corner of the store, several feet from where Zayn is stationed at the register, and he drops his stack of books with a loud, echoing thunk.  He looks up, guilty for a moment until he realises that him and Zayn are the only ones in the store other than the mousy looking girl stocking books several shelves away.

Zayn smiles at him, the same quirk of the lips that he always gives Niall.  “Lots of homework?”

Niall nods and drops into the chair.  “Yeah.  Reading, review questions, math, and a paper on a topic that I know nothing about.  You don’t mind if I hang out here and work on some of this crap, do you?”

“Nah, course not.”  Zayn sets down the book he’d been leafing through and leans over the counter to peer at Niall’s textbooks.  “What’s your paper on?  Might be able to find some books to help you out.”

He flips open his notebook and scowls at the notes he’d hastily scribbled in the corner.  His professor is dry and boring and it was all he could to do stay awake.  “Something about societal morals versus universal morals.  Whatever the hell that means.”  He drops his head onto the table and grumbles, “I don’t even know why I’m taking this class.”

He feels fingers drag through his hair, just for a moment, before they pull away.  Then Zayn chuckles and Niall hears the chair next to him creak slightly.  “Philosophy.  For someone who still hasn’t declared a major, you certainly are a glutton for punishment.”

Niall lifts his head as Zayn grabs his philosophy textbook and flips it open.  “You should look at Nietzsche.  On the Genealogy of Morality would probably be your best bet.  We can stop by the library after I get off, if you’d like.”

Niall can’t help it.  He snorts in laughter and claps a hand over his mouth to stifle the rest.

Zayn looks puzzled for a moment, then his eyes widen in realization and a red tinge paints his cheeks.  “Shut up.  I didn’t mean it like that.  Now do you want my help or not?”

He bites the inside of his cheek and nods.  “Yeah.  Yeah, that’d be great.”

Niall stay there for the rest of the afternoon, alternating between doing his work and pestering Zayn.  Zayn leaves the table on occasion, twice when a customer comes in and a few times to help stock shelves.  Otherwise, he flips through Niall’s books, helps explain concepts, and prods Niall toward the right answers.

It’s good, Niall thinks, just spending time together. 

After Zayn finishes his shift, they go to the library and Niall leaves with more books added to his already hefty pile.  Some on philosophy and morals, some that Zayn handed to him with a casual, “Been meaning to read that one.”  Niall doesn’t hesitate to check it out and keep it at his apartment for him.

They walk, enjoying the night and the opportunity to catch up, to find out how the other is.  It’s easy and comfortable and everything Niall loves about them.

When they reach the doors of Saint Margaret’s, Niall wishes him goodnight and takes a step back.  They passed the bus stop a little way back and he wants to make sure he doesn’t miss the bus.

Zayn grabs the front of his shirt and drags him forward again, pressing his lips to Niall’s.

The surprise wears off in seconds and Niall kisses him back and it just fits with the rest of the day, a perfect representation of that place between platonic and romantic where their friendship resides.

Zayn pulls away after a moment and this time his smile is the one where Niall can see how his tongue is pressed up to the backside of his teeth and his eyes crinkle and Niall knows he only smiles like this after they kiss or in the mornings when the pleasure still lingers on the corners of their minds.  “G’night,” Zayn says and Niall just nods.

He starts doing most of his homework at the bookstore and tells Zayn it’s because he gets a free tutor.  The unspoken truth is that it gives them more time to hang out and Zayn never says anything to the contrary so Niall figures it’s fine.

The goodnight kiss sticks, becomes a routine, and Niall likes it too much to worry about whether that swings them farther away from the platonic end of the spectrum.

It happens slowly and if either of them notices, they don’t say anything.

Zayn buys a book with his first pay check and employee discount and accidentally leaves it at Niall’s apartment.  Niall, during one of his random cleaning fits, puts it on his barely occupied bookshelf.  Others follow.

Niall shoves Zayn’s clothes in his laundry basket one morning, intending to do a couple loads before either of them have to go anywhere.  Zayn wakes up and distracts Niall from the laundry and when it’s time for him to leave, he just grabs clothes from Niall’s drawer.

They have their usual sides of the mattress, though more often than not they end up in a tangle of arms and legs in the middle.

Zayn borrows his razor.

Niall stocks the fridge with Zayn’s favorite beer and starts buying real food instead of just take-out.

Zayn somehow winds up with his own shelf in the bathroom and a drawer in the dresser, though most of the time they trade clothes back and forth.

Niall looks around one day halfway through the fall semester, sees the traces of Zayn all through it, and realizes that the studio apartment has somehow become theirs more than his.  The thought makes his gut twist in a not entirely unpleasant way.

Even when Zayn isn’t there, his presence still is.  It’s in the nearly full bookshelf where Zayn keeps adding more volumes.  It’s in the leftovers stacked in the fridge from their first attempt at cooking dinner together.  It’s in the way Niall can still smell him on his shirts.

And Niall is content with those little bits and refuses to ask for more.  At least until Zayn drags him to an art fair.

They’re looking at a display of paintings when Zayn mentions, “Wish I had an easel.  It’d make doing large portraits easier.  And I’ve always wanted to take up painting.”

Niall studies one drawing, decides that Zayn’s are much better, and says, “Why don’t you then?  You’ve got some money saved now and it’d be worth it.”

Zayn nudges him and points to one of the paintings.  “That one’s really good.  And the people at Saint Margaret’s are really nice, but I don’t think they’d let me keep a easel set up in the dorm.”

Niall glances at the price tag on one of the smaller paintings and decides that yes, an easel would definitely be worth the investment.  “You could always keep it at the apartment.”  He hesitates for a moment, doesn’t look at Zayn when he adds, “And you could always, you know.  You could stay too.”

There’s a brief pause before Zayn says, “Yeah, okay.”

And just like that, the matter is settled.

Zayn buys an easel and then the apartment smells like paints and canvas.  Things between them don’t get complicated or awkward just because Zayn cooks breakfast every day and Niall brushes his teeth while Zayn’s in the shower.

Sometimes their schedules have one leaving when the other is just getting home, but they see each other more and Niall thinks that it’s perfect.

“I dunno what I’m doing,” Niall mutters, staring at his textbook and digging his fingers into his scalp.

Zayn puts a finger in the book he’d been reading and leans over to look at Niall’s book.  “First off, you’re looking for answers to your English Lit questions in your philosophy book.”

Niall groans and shoves his philosophy book off his lap.  “Fuck.  That’s just brilliant.”  He’s tired, all the time, and he hates school.  He hates getting up for class, he hates going to class, and he hates doing homework for class.  “I don’t think I’m cut out for this shit.  School.”

Zayn’s hand runs down his back and he leans into his friend.  Stress and coffee have been his two constant companions for weeks now and he’s starting to break.

“Have you ever thought about not finishing?”

Niall finally looks up at Zayn and gives him a tired, half-hearted smile.  “Drop out?  My dad would kill me.  My granddad, dad, and brother are all alumni.  I’ve been told I’d graduate from here since I was a kid.”

“Talk about pressure.”  Zayn nudges Niall’s fingers out of his hair and replaces them with his own.

Niall leans into him and lets his eyes drift closed.  “Mm.”

“But it’s not your passion, you know?  And yeah, a job is important and all that, but shouldn’t you go find what you really love before that?  That’s what everyone says being young is about.”

Niall nods and his breath catches when Zayn moves one hand down to trail across his chest and then tease at the waist of his pants.  Fingers dance across his thighs before Zayn palms him and he feels himself getting hard.

“I’ll think about it,” he mumbles.  “Jerking me off isn’t going to sway me one way or the other.”  But he still shifts to give Zayn a better angle.

Zayn pulls Niall back against his chest and unbuttons his pants.  “It’s not about swaying you,” he murmurs against Niall’s ear and his hand starts to pump up and down.  “It’s about you being stressed out beyond belief.” 

It’s dry and the skin rubs and calluses across Zayn’s palm and fingers send little shivers up Niall’s spine and he loves every second of it.  He rocks his hips up into Zayn’s hand and throws his head back onto Zayn’s shoulder.

Zayn’s other hand slips under his shirt and rubs up his chest and Niall lets out a throaty moan.  “Wonder—fuck—wonder if this’s a valid excuse for not havin’ my homework done.”

Zayn tightens his grip and pumps a little harder, flicking his thumb over the head.  “You’re still worrying about school?  I'm insulted.”

After that, Niall doesn’t think about much other than the feel of Zayn’s hands.  By the time he comes, he’s a panting, sweaty mess, lying limp against Zayn’s chest.  It takes a few minutes for him to pull himself together, but then he rolls over and pins Zayn to the couch with a grin.

He doesn’t think about schoolwork for the rest of the night.

Niall slumps on the couch, his phone pressed to his ear and listening to the angry tirade.  His father had called to ask about school and Niall figured it was a good time to mention that he dropped out of school and won’t be going back until next fall.

His father’s been yelling ever since.

“Dad—

“If you’d just listen—

“I’m not—

“It’s just until next fall—”

He can’t get a full sentence out, not that it would do much good.

He sits there, feeling smaller and smaller, as his father goes on about how he’s ruining his life and won’t amount to anything without a college degree.  When his dad finally hangs up on him without so much as a goodbye, Niall is shaking.

After he’s sure he won’t cry, he pulls out his phone and dials Zayn.

“Yeah?”

Niall takes a breath and it wavers slightly when he says, “Hey, I know you’re at work but are you—are you busy right now?”

There’s a pause and Niall worries that he overstepped his bounds.

“I’m coming home,” he announces and Niall, in the midst of his worry and confusion and uncertainty, can’t believe how right it sounds hearing Zayn call their apartment home.

“No, no, I’m fine.  You don’t have to.  I just…  I wanted to talk.  My dad—my dad called and I-I told him.  About school.”  Niall curls up into a ball and rolls the hem of his shirt between his thumb and forefinger.

“He didn’t take it well?”

Niall shakes his head, feeling miserable.  “No.  He basically thinks I’m throwing away my life and that I’ll never amount to anything.  Guess this means Christmas is shot.”

Zayn lets out a ragged sigh.  “And you think I’m going to stay here?  Look, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, okay?”

For the second time in an hour, Niall has someone hang up on him.  But this time, it makes him feel special and cared for.  He doesn’t move from the couch and when he hears the door open, he lifts his head a little.

Then Zayn is there and as arms wrap around him and Zayn’s head rests on his shoulder, Niall thinks that maybe this isn’t as bad as he thought it was.

They watch movies and stay curled up on the couch, Zayn running fingers through his hair with one hand while his other stays tucked up against his chest.

“You—  Do you think I’m making a mistake?” Niall asks as the credits roll down the screen.

“Nah,” Zayn says and presses a kiss to Niall’s temple.  “College isn’t for everyone.  Seems unfair to make a bunch of eighteen- and nineteen- year-olds decide what they want to do for the next forty years.  You can go back when you’re ready.”

Niall smiles and he doesn’t say it but he’s glad Zayn is there with him.

Home.

Niall stretches as he drifts gently into wakefulness.  The sun is shining through his window and he watches the dust particles dance in the sunlight.  After a moment, he rolls onto his back, the blanket dragging with him.

Zayn is at his easel, Niall’s jeans hanging low on his hips and his chest bare.  Niall can’t see what he’s working on, but he can see the calm and concentration on his face.  It’s a beautiful sight and he hopes he never gets used to it.

“Hey,” he mumbles, voice still thick with sleep.

Zayn glances over and his eyes shine.  “You’re awake.  G’morning.”

Niall wiggles down into the mattress, determined not to get up just yet.  “Mm.”

Zayn smiles at him and goes back to his painting and Niall watches him, time slowing for this moment of peace.

He still has to figure out his major if he goes back to school, he has to find his passion, and he needs to work out what exactly he has with Zayn.  It’s an intimidating list but Zayn told him once that all the best things in life are as scary as shit.

And right now, he doesn’t have to worry about it.  Right now, he’s happy.

“Come back to bed, Zee,” he mumbles, holding out his hand.

Zayn looks over at him, sighs, and sets down his brush and Niall grins.  Zayn shuffles over and a moment later, he’s pushing Niall into the mattress and kissing him slow and sweet.  Niall starts to grind up into him and then jeans are being pushed off and blankets are being discarded and—

Yes.  Right now, he is very, very happy.

And the rest of life can wait.