The Beautiful Escape [ZARRY]

30

Zayn rubbed his eyes. Someone had carefully tucked the sleeping bag around him while he slept. His eyes went to the only other person in the room.

"Sleep well?" The fully clad figure bent over a portable keyboard didn't lift his head but seemed to sense Zayn's wakefulness.

"Yes, thank you." Zayn tucked his nose below the covers. So this was that embarrassing morning-after feeling. "What are you doing?"

"Sending a few e-mails."

What sort of person sent e-mails at this time of the morning? The sort of person you slept with last night; a stranger, Zayn's mental critic added, just in case he didn't feel bad enough already, a beautiful stranger. 

"Right..." He cleared his throat. "What time is it?" he asked, more out of a desire to fill the yawning gap in their conversation than a genuine desire to know.

"Almost seven."

"Seven?!" Zayn yelped, shooting upright. "Sh*t!" he groaned, clasping his hands to his bare body.

Harry closed his laptop with a click and turned to face Zayn. His gently ironic expression made him even more aware of the absurdity of displaying inhibitions the morning after the night before- especially when the night before was the one they'd shared.

"Is that a problem?"

"Dad, the boys and the girls will be up for breakfast," he agonised.

"Can't they do anything without you to take charge?"

"Of course they can," he responded, exasperated. "And I don't 'take charge'." Did he really strike him as a bossy, organising type? "I just want things to be..." A frown puckered on Zayn's face.

"The same?" Harry put in gently, drawing his startled gaze.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Sure you do- you're trying to step into your mother's shoes. Has it ever occurred to you, Zayn, that maybe she wanted her absence to be noticed?"

A flicker of uncertainty made the soft corner of his mouth droop for a few seconds before his expression hardened. "You know nothing about it," Zayn blustered angrily. "Mum isn't a frustrated housewife and she isn't menopausal."

"Is that what menfolk think..?"

Daniaal had put forward this theory but Zayn had soon put him the right. "Anyway, you're missing the point."

Harry looked mildly perplexed. "Am I...?"

"They'll wonder where I am."

Zayn watched Harry's sensual lips twist. "And you don't want to broadcast the fact that you spent the night with me."

The sad part was his reputation could probably survive intact. He'd learnt a long time ago that people didn't think of him and another man plus steamy sex in the same thought. He was doomed to be the normal guy figure. Which was pretty ironic if everything that has ever happened is taken under consideration.

"Do you blame me?" Zayn asked him sarcastically. Harry didn't respond but a nerve along his jawline did some flexing. "Relax," he sighed wearily. "Even if I want to tell, nobody would believe me."

He got to his feet and strolled towards Zayn. "Put this on- you look ridiculous." He handed Zayn his pyjamas. They had done it, alright; but Zayn couldn't bring himself to expose himself to the full glare of Harry's scrutiny. 

"If you're waiting for me to turn my back you'll be waiting a long, long time," Harry drawled, taking up a seat on the packing case. He stretched out his long legs and casually crossed his booted feet at the ankle.

"You're no gentleman."

Harry seemed to find his accusation amusing.

With an angry toss swipe through his hair, Zayn pulled the garment over his head.

With his head halfway through the arm-hole, Zayn took a deep breath and told himself to calm down. So he didn't have the best body in the world- it was more than adequate. Some might even say ample. What did it matter if Harry didn't grade it in the top ten per cent? After all, they were ships that had passed and collided-in the night.

The rest of the movement was performed with a bit of slow dignity. He smoothed the fabric into place. 

"I'm perfectly at ease with my body," Zayn declared defiantly. Why not just give him a list of your insecurities to peruse at his leisure and be done with it, you idiot!

"Oh, it shows, darling, it shows," came the dry response.

Whilst his facial muscles didn't budge an inch, the sardonic amusement in Harry's eyes said it all. Then suddenly he wasn't smiling anymore and something was added to the atmosphere that hadn't been there a second before- something that made Zayn's heart rate pick up pace.

"Last night..." Harry began heavily.

Here was the point where he explained it had been great 'but'... Zayn jumped in to beat him to the punchline; no way could Zayn endure the big brush-off he sensed was heading his way!

"Last night!" For some reason Zayn found himself grinning in a manic kind of way at Harry. "Yes, mad wasn't it?" Zayn shrugged in a way that suggested that kind of madness came his way on a regular basis.

 "Mad, bad..." Harry's deep voice lovingly caressed each syllable and became diamond-hard as he continued "...mind-blowingly great sex... is that what you are trying to say?"

Zayn wasn't trying to say anything; he was trying to remember how to breathe. Not only did Harry sound as if he meant it, but he also looked it too. In fact, that mean, hungry look on his rampantly features made Zayn shudder inside and blush hotly on the outside- he wished he could have reversed the scenario.

Now, here was something he hadn't bargained for. Was it a good or a bad thing...?

With a rush, he got to his feet and tugged the pyjama top down. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself." Of all moronic replies... 

With a sigh of relief, he located his clothes folded in a neat pile- Zayn retained a very definite memory of throwing them around the previous night. He found the thought of Harry retrieving and carefully folding his clothes somehow strangely unsettling.

"Did you?" 

"You know I did," Zayn choked a little hearing the reply.

"I seem to recall mentioning something to that effect," Harry agreed.

"Zayn choked some more.

"Why are you running away?" Harry's tone suggested casual curiosity rather than a driving desire to discover the reason. 

Zayn zipped his jeans, swearing softly as the zip snagged in the fabric of the pyjama trousers he had on underneath. "That's rich coming from you," he said, going into attack mode.

There was a tense silence.

"Meaning...?" Zayn had never heard that dangerous note in Harry's voice before but he didn't doubt Harry used it often- and no doubt it has the desired effect of cowing the recipient. 

Not this time, mate...!