fool's gold [zarry]

six

Zain hates parties. 

Or, no. He hates events, where people have to make friends with everyone, kiss arse while getting drunk and making fools of themselves. It's an anathema that Zain has never really understood. When he makes a fool of himself, he doesn't want anyone to see. Except perhaps Niall. Niall had already seen every side of Zain there was to see and he had no reason to hold back anymore. But he'd rather not make a fool of himself in front of people he was trying to get money from. Or recognition.

"Hi," Harry says beaming at him with the langour of the slightly drunk, suddenly in front of him and pulling all of Zain's focus towards him. Zain's not sure how he found him, hidden away in a corner as he is. Perhaps Niall had told him. Perhaps it was a coincidence. Probably Niall was a traitor.

Harry slides onto Zain's lap without hesitation, grinning down at him, sweaty and gorgeous with his shirt half unbuttoned and showing off his chest in the way that was awful and wonderful at once.

For a moment, Zain is too stunned to say anything, too caught up in the chest before him and the warm weight on his lap.

"Hello, darling," he says when his brain starts working again, his hands going to Harry's waist automatically to steady him. He starts closing the buttons on Harry's shirt without second thought. It was a nice view but he'd rather Harry wear his clothes as they were meant to be worn. "You know that if I wanted you to be half-naked I wouldn't have given you a shirt. You're not supposed to change your outfit when I put you into it."

Harry shrugs. "You like touching, hm?" he says, pressing his mouth against Zain's jaw. "So do it."

"I'm not your valet," Zain chides but since he has permission he slides his thumb over the sight swell of Harry's pectoral before closing another button, touching his soft skin.

"No," Harry pouts, somehow arching even closer, his stomach brushing Zain's as he inhales. He's a tease, somehow making it both seem accidental and intentional.

Zain closes the last button - leaving two undone like it was supposed to be worn - and leans back slightly on one hand. He can't resist putting the other around Harry though, press it to the his back. To steady him, and to feel the heat of him through the damp cotton at the small of his back, to keep him close another moment. He spent all day thinking about what clothes Harry could wear next time.

He tilts his head back to watch Harry in the low light, the way his hair falls softly around his face and the parted lips, pink and wet even in the dim corner.

Harry's looking back at him, his head slightly cocked, like he's considering. Zain barely has time to wonder what he is considering when Harry leans down, closing the distance between them to press his lips against Zain's in a soft kiss. It's almost hesitant, like he's expecting to be thrown off or pushed away.

Laughable. Zain cups his cheek, every thought pushed from his mind except the soft lips against his, the weight of Harry on his thighs. He strokes his thumb over Harry's cheek and parts his lips, sucking one plumb lip between his, pressing his tongue against it.

Harry moans, eager and not at all sweet. Zain pulls him closer, tastes his perfect mouth and tries very much not to think about Niall's words of caution and the gossip that will follow if they're caught.

It's not Niall who finds them, pulling Harry away by the neck of his shirt, scolding him as he drags him away without a second glance at Zain.

Harry pouts at him mournfully even as his handler hisses about impressions, deniability, the press and Zain's age. Zain raises his hand at him, rubbing his tingling lips at the memory. 

Best not to tempt fate. He gets up, taking a sip of his champagne that has gone a bit stale and scans the crowd for Niall. 

"What's got you gloomy?" Niall asks, happy and relaxed for once, cupping Zain's face between his hands like a worried mother. For all that he claimed Zain had a problem with personal space, Niall loved touching Zain.

"I'll give you three guesses," Zain says, shooting a look around.

"Don't need three," Niall laughs, kissing Zain's cheek wetly. He's like one of Zain's aunts, except more blond. "You hate people and your little crush is here but dancing with someone else."

"I hate dancing," Zain complains and does not add that he had had Harry on his lap not too long ago. It was probably for the best. He had been awfully drunk and Zain might be a miser and misanthrope but he'd rather not take advantage. "Wanna leave? I promise to not bother you all day tomorrow."

"All day?" Niall asks, taking a sip of his beer. "You promise?"

"On my house in L.A."

Niall snorts. "You hate that house," he laughs, patting Zain's cheek. "But alright, my grump. I hope you have beer in your fridge though, because I am mellow."

"You're something," Zain says, affection surging through him. He wraps an arm around Niall's shoulder and kisses his head. "Thank you, my Nialler."

"Love you, too!" Niall says loudly, almost stumbling into a model that is attached to one of Harry's bandmates. Or someone who was trying to look like them. They were all rather plain. 

"Let's go!" Niall adds, pulling Zain along. "Beer awaits."

"Let's go," Zain echoes and wraps his arm around Niall to keep him from tripping again.

☀️

apparently this wasn't updated since july?? oops