Up in Smoke (Ziall)

Chapter 6

(16/6/13 03:05- has not yet been edited. Don't judge me to harshly on any grammatical or spelling errors)

I know I know....you hate me. This took a long time and I hope its not been abandoned. However, I  now have summer holiday and a very healthy relationship with my close companion solitude. Therefore updating my account with new stories and chapters should be more frequent.

I really appreciate all the support and love reading comments, suggestions, and requests.

Thanks so very much!

***

The blonde lad is seething, proper pissed. He's pacing the pavement in front of his house while glaring dangerously down the road. He's formulated a plan, a good one at that. Now he's just waiting for what he imagines the roaring cough of a battered muffler to tear down the street for it all to play out.

Maura, the lad's mum, looks worriedly through the pulled blinds of the home's windows. It's not often her laidback son is so distressed. He constantly removes the snapback from his head, runs a hand through his fringe, replaces, and then repeats the process. His tiresome pacing leaves her worried for the state of his favourite Supras.

He pulls out his mobile again, glancing at the time. He scrolls through his text, finding the offender, and realising the arse is late. Zayn texted Niall at half seven.

From: Zayn

Be there at eight. Dress sexy. ;)

It's 8:04, Zayn's not yet arrived, and Niall is bubbling with anger. At least that's what he's telling himself it is because there is no way he's recognising it as shame, foolishness, or even a small bit of disappointment.

Although, to be fair, the lad was pissed before he was stood up. Because, really, is he just some pup that can jump at the whim of Zayn's desires. A thirty minute prep time is hardly a sufficient notice to ask someone to get ready for a night out. Especially when it is requested that he look “sexy”. Niall needs at least forty five minutes for that, fifteen of those devoted to pure panic. That's why, in a fit of defiance, he had put on a snapback, vest, trousers and his favourite Supras.

And now, as he painted the pavement black with the underside of his shoes, he rehearsed just what he would tell the man. Phrases like, “completely mental”, “unrealistically spontaneous”, and “proper dick” all came to mind.

He's not even sure why he's bought so much into this whole idea of Zayn asking (telling) him they were going on a date. Let's be realistic, Zayn doesn't “date” people, he wines, dine and slams the door behind him after a good fuck. Niall knows the stories. He's heard the exchanging of dirty secrets in the halls. Zayn's name always falling from their lips like poison, infecting everyone with the burning curiosity of his sultry ways.

Well, he for one is done buying into it.

At least that's what he tells himself until the car coming down the street brakes right in front of him.

***

Niall's not sure what he expected. He never really imagined Zayn doing actual real-life things. In his mind's eye Zayn was always sucking on a cigarette, grinning at him smugly, or rubbing a hand along his bristly jawline. Never did he imagine the now boot, trouser, and leather clad man pulling up outside his house.

Like his outfit, Zayn's car was predictably black. It was old enough that Niall had the urge to refer to as an auto-mobile rather than just a “car”. The shiny exterior gave the impression that the owner put forth a tremendous amount of care into its upkeep. All this rang true as the quiffed lad let the door gently shut behind him and ran in admiring sweep along the cars boot as he walked towards the Irishman.

“Not bad, huh?” he asked, with a confident smirk towards Niall. “If you weren't standing here looking like a dime I would say that it's the best looking thing I’ve seen all night.”

Niall scoffed, looking at the man in contempt. Unconcerned and a bit confused the darker lad stared back.

“You're late.” Niall informed, shaking his head in disbelief. At least admit to it, he thought. Zayn said nothing, instead straightened up, a playful look in his eyes. “You're late. After giving me a thirty minute warning, you're late.” Niall began pacing. “And on top of that you tell me to be sexy. You tell me to dress sexy. Do I look like I have sexy clothes?” Niall threw his hands out, inviting Zayn to observe his attire. Satisfied as the dark lad gave him a once over, sure that this would be enlightening for the older man.

Zayn's eyes shined, delighted at the pure exasperation of Niall. “Are you done?” He asked lightly, giving plenty of time for a response but only received an aggravated glare. He loved seeing the boy like this. “Good. Get in.” He turned on his heel, slipping around the boot and opening his driver door.

Niall stood, unmoving. He reminded himself that he wasn't going to just jump at any of Zayn's whims and when Zayn stopped to notice that Niall hadn't budged he said it. The words, hot and venomous, pushed past his lips, “You're a proper dick.”

Zayn let the surprise capture his face for only a split second before he recovered. The happy sparkle drained from his eyes but it was replaced with a look the Niall couldn't quite place. He wouldn't peg it as anger but either way it looked dangerous. “What did you say?”

Niall swallowed, a theatrical gulp, and took a step closer towards Zayn's car. “You heard me.” He said and it hung in the air. Pressing down like sticky summer humidity.

Their eyes were both captive, held hostage by the others. Any third party observer could see it maybe even feel everything that was trapped in between them. It clouded their eyes like cataracts. Neither one recognizing it for what it was: lust, desire, frustration.

When it all came down to it this was really the deciding factor of the whole thing. It would've been easy if they had just both given up, after all it's what they were use to. Niall could just flee into the safety of his home, convincing himself the whole time that their was never anything between them in the first place. Zayn could easily drive away, letting whoever he left behind to choke on his exhaust and feel secure in the fact that no one could ever hurt him if he left first.

Niall broke first. Looking away from Zayn, who felt his stomach sink. Unsure if the feeling came from relief or disappointment that Niall wasn't all that he hoped. That maybe he had pushed more buttons than the boy could handle. Once again shoving and shoving until he pushed someone right off the cliff.

The sound of a latch opening pulled Zayn's from his thoughts and he watched as Niall slid into the passenger seat and swung the door shut behind him. Zayn's stomach flipped, a quick wave of shock rifling through him before he composed himself. An unfamiliar sense of surprise flooded his brain. He couldn't remember the last time someone had stunned him. Zayn, always on the outskirts of a crowd, read people well but more than this he didn't allow it. It's hard to be surprised by someone's action when you don't expect anything from them in the first place.

But now Niall was forcing him, for once, to compose himself. So he ignored the burst of heat in his stomach and picked his jaw off the hood of his car. He slid into his seat and pulled the door shut behind him. He glanced at Niall with a wild smirk, gripping the steering wheel with one hand, and Niall's thigh with the other. “You know I've never gotten into a crash before...not even a ticket.” He informed his passenger but it weighed heavy with implications that went beyond his driving record.

Niall nodded, a little stiff in his seat, but starting to relax as Zayn's hand rubbed smooth circles into his leg.

“Doesn't mean I'm not dangerous.” he grinned, shifting into gear, racing down the street and leaving nothing but a cloud of black dust in his rear view mirror