ZIAM ONE-SHOTS (BOTTOM LIAM)

come tonight, we'll make it right

Author: swallowsmateforlife

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4524456

Summary:

Zayn gawks for a moment, unable to help the utter staring he's doing at the man next to him. He's beautiful. He's stunning, and Zayn quite expected to have a stuffy businessman next to him to ignore and definitely not this.

"Sorry," the bloke says and oh, he's British too. "It's just they're going to come around with pre-flight drinks straight away and, forgive me for saying it, but you look like you could use one, mate," the man says and Zayn's still staring.

The one where Zayn hates flying until he meets Liam.

Zayn has never been very good at traveling long distances. Not because he's fidgety or bored easily, but simply because long haul flights are nerve-wracking and he gets anxious easily especially when it comes to flying. He's never much liked it and though he's gotten a lot better over the years it's still something that puts him on the edge of his seat.

He's flying first class, this time, though, and he supposes it might help to be able to swivel his seat out and lay down into the little nook beds the luxury of first class provides. Maybe he'll order a drink and knock himself out and sleep the whole way.

He can't help but scowl a bit once he makes it through security – bloody American TSA, honestly. He doesn't expect anyone to know who he is and he prefers it that way but he knows that his passport name and photo cause some eyebrows to rise. At least he didn't get pulled into secondary screening this time.

Zayn makes it to the waiting lounge with minor trouble after that, settled into a cushy chair in the first class waiting lounge and just waits for his flight to be called. He's not sure how this whole first class thing works but everyone around him looks like they do with their pressed suits and pencil skirts. Zayn can think of nothing worse than traveling a ten hour flight back to London in a damn suit. It's comfy trackies and a hoodie for him. His name might be famous but his face isn't, and he likes it that way. No one's going to care, or secretly snap a photo of him sleeping and blast it all over twitter. He's anonymous here and he likes it that way.

It's not too much longer before his flight is announced – first class boarding first – and Zayn collects his carry-on backpack, slings it over his shoulder, and makes his way to the air hostess with his passport and boarding pass in hand.

"Welcome aboard, sir," the hostess greets as she shows Zayn to his seat. First class is another world, Zayn thinks. The seats look rather like recliner chairs than plane seats and though he can tell he'll have a seatmate there's an actual partition he can raise to block whomever it is out before settling into his little sleep pod for the long haul of the flight. God, he can't wait to lie down and curl up and get this over with.

"Thanks," Zayn says as he settles his backpack into the space under the seat before he settles in, taking in the buttons and gadgets on his arm rest. He's not keen on asking someone how to convert his seat and table space into the sleep space and sets out to learn it on his own. Zayn doesn't much care to get to know any of these people but from what he's learned by his last week in LA signing his new book deal it's that rich people are both smug as fuck and assholes and he doesn't care to experience the condescending scoff of a fucker in a suit when Zayn can't figure out how the hell to get his seat to lay down. No thanks.

He supposes he can't do much until after take-off anyway and settles into his seat, buckles the belt and digs his iPod and headphones out of his bag. Zayn slips the headphones on and watches as more men in suits and ladies in skirts pile on, slipping into their seats with practiced ease and not so much as a 'thanks' to the hostesses around them. Zayn appreciates his publishers comping him first class flights this trip but if he has his way he won't be doing much flying in the months to come. He's got a novel to write and a due date to adhere to and he's going to be seeing the same walls of his flat for many months, he supposes, while he writes.