night changes [zarry]

xi

"Shit," Harry swears when the doorbell rings, then flaps his hand in front of his mouth before remembering that the kids were all with his mother and safely out of earshot.

"Fuck," he swears quietly, rushing towards the front door. Maybe it was a fluke and not Zain but rather the postman or some random neighbour.

"Hi," he says, desperately trying to look less like he's completely forgot to get dressed.

"Hey," Zain says, his gaze dropping down Harry's body before looking back up at him again. "Am I early?"

"No," Harry winces. "I don't think so," he adds, stepping back to let Zain in. "I'm so sorry, mum picked up the kids and I thought I'd clean up a bit without the kids distracting me and also to distract me, I mean. Just. I forgot the time," he bites his lip. "I promise I usually don't!" he adds, pulling at his t-shirt and hoping he doesn't smell too badly from rushing around all afternoon. He hasn't showered this morning because he wanted to do so before Zain arrived.

"I'll get showered and changed really quick," Harry says, pulling a grimace. "Just. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Zain says with a quick smile, not looking upset at all. Harry eyes him for a moment but the amused look around his eyes doesn't drop.

"Kay," Harry nods. "You know where everything is, mostly. Just," he waves a hand around and rushes away before he can say anything else.

He's used to showering quickly, but it's different knowing Zain is waiting downstairs — his date, Hot Dad who was seriously hot, and also sweet with the babies — and not one of his children in danger of destroying the house, themselves and their siblings.

He scrubs himself dry quickly, half he already agonised over clothes yesterday night so he just has to brush his teeth quickly and fuss with his hair. It's getting too long again, curling around the ends but there is nothing he can do for now.

He rushes back downstairs, feeling strangely unbalanced without a Sophie on his hip, pulling on his cardigan as he goes.

Zain's leaning on the kitchen counter, his phone in his hands as he texts and a glass of water next to him.

"Done!" Harry says, spreading his arms when Zain looks up, dropping them self-consciously right away when Zain just looks at him.

"Hi," he adds self-consciously, brushing the hair from his forehead.

"Hi," Zain says, pushing himself away from the counter and stuffing his hands in his pocket. "Ready to go?"

"Yea," Harry says, awkward and stilted. He's not used to making conversation that is not about his children or with one of his children hanging off him at least. He's never felt the deficit as much as now. "Where are we going?"

"That pizza place by the river," Zain says. "If that's ok."

"Yea," Harry nods, grabbing his good coat and following Zain out the door, his stomach fluttering. A nice restaurant, a bit romantic even with the lights they always hang up. "Pizza is nice."

"Yea," Zain agrees, waiting for Harry to pull his door closed behind himself. "Is it ok with we take my car?"

"Sure," Harry nods, following him to the curb. He blushes when Zain fumbles with the door and holds it open for him, feeling both very pleased and ridiculous for doing so.

He folds his hands in his lap and desperately tries to come up with a topic of conversation that was not Jamie and Laila's football schedule and the weather.

"I like Pink Floyd," he settles on as they pull away from the curb, the music playing softly from the speakers.

"Yea," Zain smiles at him as they come to a stop. "Which song is your favourite?"

Somehow, the conversation about music carries them all the way to the restaurant. Harry does not know how, but it's easy talking to Zain once they get going. No awkward pauses as they discuss their favourite bands and songs and the memories associated.

"So," Zain says, when they are seated and have ordered water — no awkward moment as they'd both rebuffed the offer of wine to Harry'a relief — rubbing his hands over his thighs. "I just. I wanted to apologise."

Harry blinks at him, his stomach clenching in nervousness. "What for?" he asks, clearing his throat.

"Just—," Zain says, biting his lip. "I haven't been — very consistent. I just. Want you to know when. When I invited you to dinner I really only meant dinner and I mean—" he halts, looking flustered. He takes a deep breathe, meeting Harry's gaze. "I wanted to date you properly, you know, and I don't want to give you the impression I'm not taking it seriously, because I know there's a lot involved — both our children, I mean, and like... our past I guess, I don't know — and I didn't want to jump ahead or anything or take it lightly and we've already," he gestures vaguely, "and then I slept in your bed and I just. Can we start over? Properly? I'm taking this seriously, it's just that you're... lovely," he finishes, letting out a breath.

Harry blinks at him, feeling his cheeks start to burn. He's not quite sure what to think, not about being lovely and starting over — whatever that meant — but it soothes something inside him, knowing that's he's not just a convenient babysitter. That Zain would like to do this properly.

"I appreciate you explaining," he says a bit stiffly. "I'd like that," he adds softly. "I haven't dated anyone since uni, though," he adds, trying to lighten the mood. "So I might not know what to do."

"Your ex-husband?" Zain asks, leaning back slightly when the waiter arrived.

"Yea," Harry nods and picks up the menu even as Zain sends the waiter away again. "Pizza or pasta," he asks Zain, scanning the dishes.

"Pizza of course," Zain says, reaching across to touch Harry's hand. "Thanks."

"Of course," Harry says, looking up to meet his gaze, his stomach fluttering at the soft expression on Zain's face.

Despite the apology at the beginning, or perhaps because of it, this is already shaping up to be the best date he's had. Not that he's had many.

"So, pizza toppings," Zain says. "Do you think we can agree on two and have a half each?"

"I think so," Harry smiles, he's not really hungry, his belly fluttering and his chest tight with excitement, but he also hasn't had a meal without a child in years and he's going to enjoy it. Especially in the company of Zain, who was still smiling at Harry like Harry indeed was lovely.

💚

I've been told off for never telling you the kids' ages  😉  so here we go: Jamie is 6/7 years old, Emma's 5/6 years old, Sophie is around 9 months and Laila is just slightly younger than Jamie.

also sorry for the shortness ...