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He scares your children during a fight(zayn)

He Scares Your Children During a Fight (Zayn)
You came home from work, frustrated and wanting to pull your hair out, even after going to pick up your son and daughter from their daycare.

It made it even more frustrating that Zayn had been home the majority of the day, hadn't done the dishes, hadn't gotten groceries, and hadn't done or picked up any of the laundry that needed it. Not that he ever did though.

Laziness on your husbands part had become an everyday occurrence. And since you worked hard all day almost everyday of the week, it was really starting to piss you off.

"Why don't you guys go upstairs and get a game out. I'll come up and play with you in a little bit," You whispered to your children, patting their backs and pushing them toward the stairs. They happily clomped their way up the stairs, both taunting on each other on who was to win.

Throwing down your purse and keys on the counter, you stomped quickly into the kitchen where you could hear the microwave working. You found Zayn bent over the counter, sipping on a glass of water as he watched the microwave, waiting for it to beep.

"Hey babe," He said nonchalantly, turning his head slightly so he could smile at you. You didn't answer him, moving around him to pull things from the pantry, that was limited in supplies as it was.

"What's wrong with you?" He questioned as you brushed past his shoulder again, moving to the stove to start dinner for you and the kids.

"Oh, me?" You said, turning around and glaring at him. "What's wrong with me? Well let's see. While I was at work all day, my husband decides to sit around and do whatever you do. Didn't bother to go out and get the food we needed. Didn't do any laundry. Didn't pick up our room. And the dirty dishes from last night still haven't been put up. And now, he's fixing food for himself, instead of the whole family."

"I was busy!" He interjected, getting somewhat defensive as he moved whatever he had out of the microwave, and came to walk closer to you. "I didn't have time to do all those things for you."

"You didn't have time to finish those things for me?" You snapped. "Time? Please! You don't even work! I work all day, nine hours a day, five days a week. You go record parts and then sit at home until tour time."

"I'm pretty sure I'm the one who makes most of the money around here, for my 'sitting around'," He growled. "What's your problem today? Why are you always such a bitch to me for the stupidest things?"

That sentence is what alerted you both that your son was now standing in the door listening. He let out a gasp at hearing his father swear, never hearing that happen before.

"Dad! That's a bad word!" He exclaimed, causing you both to whip around and face him.

"Go upstairs," Zayn ordered sternly, pointing his finger toward the stairs. You son opened his mouth to protest, but Zayn got much harsher. "No! Go upstairs to your room NOW!"

The tone of his voice seemed to frighten him, his face widening into an exclamation mark. Tears noticeably formed in his eyes, as he whipped around and darted for the stairs.

"Way to go," You snapped. Clenching your jaw, you rushed up the stairs after your son, following him into his room where you found a game completely set up, and your daughter fiddling with one of the pieces.

You spent the rest of the time calming your son down, and then beginning to play the game with the both of them. It wasn't an hour later that Zayn came gently through the door.

Your sons eyes immediately widened into scared ovals, and he scooted backwards.

"So, I finished everything you asked me to, and I ordered pizza, until I can go shopping tomorrow," Zayn said, directing it at you, before turning to your son. "And buddy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you. How about we all go get some ice cream, yeah?

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