The boys were staring. Again.
Liam could feel their eyes burning into his neck and chest, where Zayn's handiwork was practically screaming, "We had a night."
"Can you lot quit it with the judgmental stares?" Liam snapped, adjusting his shirt for the millionth time that morning. The fabric was doing absolutely nothing to hide the love bites Zayn had left behind, and it didn't help that Louis had made sure to point out the most impressive one over breakfast.
"Judgmental?" Louis said, grinning like the devil. "Mate, we're not judging. We're just trying to figure out how you managed to walk out of that room upright."
Harry burst out laughing, slapping the table. "Maybe Zayn gave him a helping hand."
"Or three rounds of motivation," Niall added, his mouth full of toast.
Liam groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Why the fuck am I friends with you lot?"
"You're stuck with us, babe," Louis replied cheerfully, reaching over to pat him on the back. "Now, chop chop. We've got a day off, and you're not getting out of bar hopping."
"Zayn's not even coming," Liam muttered, glaring at the door to Zayn's room. "The twat's hiding in there with his sketchbook like the antisocial git he is."
"Probably needs to recharge after wrecking your neck," Harry said with a wink.
Liam threw his toast at him.
After much cajoling (and one hell of an aggressive pep talk from Louis), the boys dragged Liam out for a day of bar hopping and restaurant hopping. Zayn, predictably, stayed behind.
"I'm not being dragged around all day to watch you idiots get hammered," Zayn had said earlier, lounging on the couch like the smug bastard he was. "I've got better things to do."
"Like sketching Liam's love bites for your personal collection?" Louis had quipped.
Zayn had flipped him off without looking up from his phone.
Now, hours later, Liam found himself leaning against the sticky counter of yet another pub, his fourth pint of beer clutched in one hand. Louis and Niall were challenging each other to a darts match, while Harry was chatting up some poor bartender who looked like she wanted to flee the country.
And Liam? Well, Liam was drunk. Properly drunk.
Somewhere between pint three and four, his brain had decided it was a good idea to text Zayn. A really badly spelled idea.
Liam's Texts to Zayn
• Liam: wherethefk r u
• Liam: miss yuo daddy
• Liam: wait no I ment mate not daddy
• Liam: shit
• Liam: fkn auto cocrrect
• Liam: but also yeh daddy
Zayn's phone buzzed on the coffee table. He frowned, picking it up and unlocking it to find a string of texts from Liam. His eyebrows shot up as he read them, and a slow, mischievous grin spread across his face.
"Fucking hell, Payne," he muttered to himself, typing a reply.
Zayn's Texts to Liam
• Zayn: You calling me daddy now? Bit forward, innit?
• Zayn: Didn't hear you complaining about it last night, tho ;)
Back at the pub, Liam's phone buzzed in his pocket. He fumbled to unlock it, squinting at the screen as Zayn's replies came through.
"Oh, fuck," Liam muttered, his ears turning red.
"What's got you all flustered?" Louis asked, sidling up next to him.
"Nothing!" Liam said quickly, shoving his phone back into his pocket.
Louis raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Uh-huh. You're bright red, mate. Spill."
"Zayn's texting me," Liam admitted, immediately regretting it.
Louis's grin could've rivaled the Cheshire Cat's. "Oh, this I've gotta see." Before Liam could stop him, Louis grabbed the phone and unlocked it. His eyes scanned the messages, and his grin widened.
"Daddy?!" Louis howled, doubling over with laughter. "Oh, mate, you're done. Absolutely done."
"Give that back!" Liam snapped, lunging for the phone.
"Not a chance!" Louis dodged, holding the phone out of reach. "Harry, Niall, get over here! You've got to see this!"
By the time they made it back to the hotel, Liam was thoroughly embarrassed, Zayn was amused as hell, and Louis was still laughing about the "daddy" texts.
"Go ahead, laugh it up," Liam muttered, shoving past Louis to get to his room.
"Oh, I will," Louis replied, wiping a tear from his eye. "This is comedy gold."
When Liam walked into the room, Zayn was sitting on the bed, his sketchbook on his lap. He looked up with a smirk, his dark eyes full of amusement.
"Daddy, huh?" Zayn teased.
Liam groaned, slamming the door shut behind him. "Kill me now."
Zayn chuckled, patting the spot next to him on the bed. "Nah, babe. But I might make you say it again."
Liam glared at him, but the faint smile tugging at his lips gave him away. "You're a dick, you know that?"
"Yeah," Zayn said, grinning. "But you love it."
YOU ARE READING
Playing the part (Ziam)
FanficZayn and Liam have never seen eye-to-eye. Constantly butting heads, their rivalry is legendary among the band. But when a wild dare forces them to pretend they're in a relationship for one week-complete with nicknames, hand-holding, kisses, and slee...
