ZIAM ONE-SHOTS (BOTTOM LIAM)

turn the other

Author: lazy_daze

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1791037

Summary:

A rough sequel to , due to which gave me a flood of feelings that could only be worked out through porn. In which Zayn gives Liam what he needs. With more schmoop than originally planned!

He's not thinking about it when he does it - or perhaps subconsciously he was, he thinks later. He was just messing around on stage, the way they all do, the way the others do loads more than him, even, just being a bit of an idiot with Liam, pretending to slap him round the face.

Liam goes with it easy and playful in the moment, going with the momentum, laughing away, but after, Zayn can feel Liam's eyes on him, following him around the stage, hot and bright, happy but sort of needy. Zayn viscerally remembers him peeping across the plane aisle like before last time, a hunger Liam isn't even totally aware of in his face.

They hadn't really talked about it much, after last time, and Zayn was just glad it hadn't been awkward. But it's not until he feels Liam needing him like - like that again, that he realises he's been wanting it, too. It's just - it's nice to be needed, right? Especially by Liam who they all need so much. Nice to give him something back.

He follows Liam to his room afterwards - because they have nearby hotel rooms, because they're apparently famous enough to get hotel rooms if they want them even when they live in the same bloody city they're playing in, so they don't have to go far after the afterparty, and Zayn tries not to examine their lives too closely but sometimes it's fucking ridiculous. And sometimes useful.

Liam grins at Zayn and looks like he's going to keep up the pretence, maybe ask why Zayn's here, then he scrunches his face up in a resigned sort of acknowledgement. "Um," he says instead, half smiling.

"Yeah," says Zayn calmly.

"So, you, like. Remember--?" says Liam, rubbing a hand over the back of his head, rocking slightly from his heels to the balls of his feet, back again, a tightly restrained nervous energy that's reminiscent of the constant movement he has on stage, but tenser. Like the energy in him now is constraining his body instead of freeing it, and Zayn knows, with a calm sort of certainty, that Liam, when he's like this, needs Zayn to free it for him.

"Course, mate," says Zayn and steps in closer, proper close, and Liam's shoulders tense up right around his ears then drop down as he blows out a breath. His lips purse out.

"Alright," he says, and it looks like he's fighting to meet Zayn's eyes, so Zayn puts a finger under his chin and pushes it up slightly.

"Look at me, yeah?" he says.

Liam nods.

"So," prompts Zayn.

"So," says Liam, keeping eye contact, and Zayn feels proud of him. "So like, we were messing about on stage - it was funny, when you--" he trails off, like he knows he can't pass it off as being 'funny' this time. "I, um. I liked it. When you like, pretended--" and he gestures weakly. "So. Maybe - I mean, it's stupid, weird, like, but maybe you could?"

Zayn tilts his head a bit, processing. "You want me to - slap you around the face?" he says, and he says it too quickly, not hiding the slight hint of disbelief he didn't know was there until he hears it.

Liam cuts his eyes away immediately, and laughs, a weird empty sound that Zayn hates intensely. "No, yeah, don't worry, it's stupid, I was, like - it's fine--"