Chapter Text
The sun was at an irritating angle. That was the first thing he noticed. The temperature steadily climbing towards 40°C was the second thing he noticed. Using the end of the scarf wrapped around his head to mop up the sweat dripping down his face, Niall edged closer to the tip of the sand dune. If he could angle his lens just so, he should have the right amount of exposure.
Click.
Click. Click. Click.
Hey, film wasn’t a thing anymore so he could take as many photos as he wanted. There were times he’d taken over a hundred photos to capture the image he envisioned. But those circumstances were rare, Niall already shifting back into a kneeling position and flipping back through the photos, squinting at the screen against the harsh lighting of the Arabian sun. He tended to be more of an on-the-fly photographer, if he was honest.
Three flips back and Niall was grinning broadly. His first picture was his favourite. As usual. The sun’s rays in the top corner, the man and his horse perfectly centralised, the barrenness of the desert visible of either side. It was exactly what he had wanted to capture the second he’d spotted the lone traveller from inside the rented car.
“Niall!”
Ignoring the call in favour of taking another shot, just in case this one was better and captured the mood more, Niall huffed when his boot was nudged.
“Hey Rashid, busy.”
Rashid snorted behind him. “No, you’re not. You already grinned. You got what you came for.”
Snapping the lens cap back on, Niall swivelled around, smiling at his guide-cum-friend. “Know me that well already?”
The other man rolled his eyes. “You’re not hard to read. Now come, Hamdan has answered your phone.”
Niall frowned even as he started collecting what little things he’d brought with him; his camera bag, a mini tri-pod, his snapback which had since been abandoned along with his RayBans. “Why’s Hamdan even answering me phone? I told you to just let it ring out. ‘s never important.”
“Well it wouldn’t stop,” Rashid deadpanned. “And we can only stand Justin Bieber so many times.”
The comment came with a playful wink but Niall protested regardless, bumping their shoulders together before sprinting off across the sand. Naturally, he slipped on the loose silt and tumbled down, laughing raucously when Rashid pulled him up with a huff. Dumping his gear in the backseat, Niall jumped in, leaning between the two seats and blinking when a phone was thrust in his face.
“He is very determined to talk to you,” Hamdan said, voice strained.
“Who?” Niall asked as he took the phone.
“British person, I don’t remember his name. He’s most impatient, answer him quickly.”
He muttered something in Farsi under his breath, causing Rashid to scold him. As they continued to bicker in their native language, Niall sunk back into the leather, pressing the phone to his ear tentatively and quite tempted to hang up already. Hamdan would kill him if he did that though.
“Hi, this is Niall Horan,” is what he ended up saying. What followed was a series of requests for clarification, some repeating, more clarification, a plethora of ‘what’s and ‘but’s that ultimately got him nowhere. Well, that was a lie. It got him somewhere. Specifically, it got him on a plane to London not even four hours later with a valet waiting to collect him on the other side.
He’d lost count of how many times he’d said it in the past twenty-four hours but, as Niall hoisted his backpack higher and approached the man with ‘Niall Horan’ displayed on an iPad, he couldn’t help but say it one more time:
“What?”
***
“You are not allowed to hate me!”
Of course, those were not the words anyone wanted to hear come out of the mouth of their agent. Especially not when said agent had also brought in their other client, as well as the stylist. Something was about to happen. Which was unfortunate because Zayn Malik didn’t like it when things happened.
Things happening led to things like his agent, Liam Payne, signing him up for yoga and a smoker’s quit-line…something that left Zayn furious and stroppy for weeks.
Things happening led to things such as his stylist Louis Tomlinson “accidentally” walking into Harry Styles’ dressing room…and doing such a good job on his hair and make-up that Harry had begged to employ him on the spot.
Granted, they were all friends now, Harry having since swapped to being under Liam’s management and somehow weaselling his way so far into Zayn’s heart that they were actually friends. Louis was head over heels for him, which Zayn allowed because Harry had no clue and it was hilarious watching Louis’ attempts at flirting fall flat on their face every second day. And even though Liam was their agent and Louis merely their stylist in some people’s eyes, they were, the four of them, a tightly knit group that hung out even in their spare time purely because they wanted to. Liam was Zayn’s plus one to everything, Louis was Harry’s. They liked and trusted each other.
And yet…
Trust could only go so far when Liam looked so damn edgy.
“What?” Zayn asked flatly, tearing his gaze away from where Louis was asking Harry’s opinion on his new designs…while slowly shifting closer and closer until he was all but in the model’s lap.
“Not everything that’s new’s a disaster Zayn,” Louis tutted, barely bothering to even flick his gaze up.
“It’s not bad,” Liam insisted, taking a seat on the armchair opposite. “It’s just this new Gucci shoot.”
“Simon’s heading that one up, right?” Harry asked, gently batting Louis away so he could lean forward; Gucci was always a favourite of his, more outrageous than Zayn’s preferred Armani looks, all smooth and dark.
“He is,” Liam confirmed. “But they want to do something…new. Edgy. Vibey? Is that a word?”
“Yes!” Louis called distractedly, chewing on the end of his pencil as he glared holes into…Zayn peered closer. An outline of Harry’s crotch? Huh. Wouldn’t be the first time.
“Okay, vibey.” Liam nodded once more. “But yeah, so instead of working with your usual photographers, Simon’s gone and gotten someone new.”
Zayn’s expression flattened out and Louis actually placed his pencil down. “What?!” he screeched. “No! I like Cara and Lisa! I know exactly what makeup to do for their shoots because we have set lighting agreements – like, not in stone but it’s always the same – and they let me get away with shit and-”
“Who’s the new photographer?” Harry inquired over Louis’ ranting. “Anyone we know?”
“Niall Horan?” The way the name rolled off Liam’s tongue made it sound as though it was unfamiliar to him too which didn’t bode well. Liam knew everyone in the industry and he rarely signed Zayn or Harry to people he couldn’t personally recommend. Zayn’s eyes narrowed.
“Who’s that then?”
“Niall Horan?” Harry repeated slowly, reaching for his phone.
“You know who that is?” Liam and Louis asked at the same time.
“Yeah, ‘course,” Harry mumbled, selecting an app and opening it, clearly looking for something, making a little ‘ah!’ noise when he found it. “Thought so. He’s this Instagram photographer. Very famous. Runs a bit of a travel blog. Quite the following.”
No one spared Harry any attention, each of them pulling their phones out and typing Niall’s name into various platforms. Louis found him on twitter, reading out a couple of tweets and clearly digging for some sort of juicy dirt. Liam was doing a standard google search while Zayn was on the same Instagram account Harry undoubtedly was. And, okay, with 14.4 million followers, he was quite popular. He was a million or so away from Harry but still a fair way behind Zayn – 21.2 million, but not that he checked regularly. Okay, he checked most – every – morning (and evening) but hey.
Numbers, however, where not Zayn’s biggest problem. No, Zayn’s biggest problem was,
“He’s a landscape photographer.”
“He’s a very good one,” Harry said defensively. “I’ve been following him for years. I love his work. This one photo from Machu Pichu-”
“Simon must have seen something in him,” Liam stated firmly, sending Zayn a pleading smile, all but begging him to play nice. “Maybe we can look through his photos together? Get a feel for his work?”
Zayn crossed his arms but gave a tight nod. Liam squeezed his knee in thanks before shifting onto the couch so he could see the screen of Louis’ laptop. Louis pulled up Instagram while Harry grabbed four beers, handing them out before settling down. It took them nearly three hours to go through the photos, starting at a picture clearly taken somewhere in the Middle East and ending with a black and white photo of a burnt out house that simply had the caption “from the ashes we rise”. It was also the photo with the most likes and even Louis admitted to recognising it, Harry nodding and saying it was Niall’s most famous photo, dubbed “the one that started it all” by his fans. Zayn didn’t know Instagram celebrities were even a thing, let alone had fans. He then nearly choked when Liam, who’d been doing some digging, revealed that Niall earnt anywhere between £15,000 and £25,000 per photo.
Louis whistled lowly. “Holy shit.” He scrolled to the top, eyebrows rising higher with each second it took. “He’s not running short of anything then. There’s hundreds of photos on here. Bloke must be loaded.”
“I bet his flat’s amazing,” Harry murmured somewhat dreamily. “I bet it’s neutral colours and minimalist, with like polaroids everywhere. Think he’d let us visit?”
“Harold Styles, what the fuck are you on about?” Louis snapped.
“Still doesn’t photograph people,” Zayn growled, glaring at Liam who held his hands up. It was true. There wasn’t even a candid anywhere in Niall’s entire gallery. The closest they’d gotten was a pair of boots overlooking a gorge.
“Simon wanted him and you want this job.”
And there it was.
When Liam put it like that, Zayn had no room to argue. Gucci was one of his highest paying jobs and they were particularly picky with their models. The fact that both he and Harry had managed to get chosen was luck enough, although that probably had more to do with the fact that they were currently the hottest thing on the market and everyone wanted Zayn Malik and Harry Styles to wear their clothing. Zayn was pretty sure he’d been given three years’ supply of the clothes in the last six months alone.
“Okay,” he grunted, finally unfolding his arms. “But I still think it’s stupid, yeah?”
“Noted,” Louis called as Zayn headed for his bedroom, trusting the others to let themselves out when they were done.
“Please don’t be an arse to him!” Liam added, voice begging but also warning. “Give him a chance.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Zayn muttered. He then slammed his bedroom door shut.
Supermodel being photographed by someone who could use filters and post square photos all because it was “vibey”. God help him.
***
They’d been directed to their usual studio, the camera stands already lined up and waiting while Louis bounced his make-up case on his knees. He was itching to go, fingers tapping on the metal but all too aware that he couldn’t start until he knew what this Niall wanted. Zayn grit his teeth. Hopefully he wasn’t into slathering his models with glitter or predisposed to obscenely loud eyeshadow. It was something Zayn had been lucky enough to avoid – mostly – so far.
“Is it through here then?”
A loud voice echoed from the hall, lilting Irish accent bouncing off the walls before a man popped into their room. If he was perturbed by four inquisitive faces, he didn’t show it. The blond hair – ugh, that was so unnatural…and who did it for him since he was so constantly on the move?! – shone under the halogen lighting as the man shuffled closer, smile luminous.
“Finally got the right place,” he said cheerfully. “God knows I nearly got lost more than once. I’m Niall Horan.”
“Liam Payne.” Liam was out of his chair so quickly it almost tipped, Harry hastily grabbing for it while Louis cackled. Liam shot them a look before holding out a hand, Niall shaking it enthusiastically. “Yes, sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Liam. I manage both Zayn-” he pointed at Zayn, who merely stared back indifferently, “-and Harry”. In comparison, Harry waved with both hands, bounding to his feet.
“Love your work mate, honestly. Couldn’t believe it when Liam said you were working with us.”
“Ha, that makes two of us!” Niall laughed, shaking Harry’s hand. “Don’t have a fucking clue what I’m supposed to do.”
Zayn’s eyes narrowed. “Why’d you accept the job then?”
“Zayn,” Liam hissed but Niall waved him off.
“Have you ever tried to say no to Simon?” He winked and then peered round him to where Louis was. “I’m Niall, again.”
“Louis Tomlinson.” He gave a thumbs up before starting up a staccato on his make-up case once more. “Um, so, what are we doing?”
“The fuck if I know.”
Zayn’s hands gripped the arms of his chair and even Liam and Harry looked horrified. Louis looked like he was about to have a heart-attack, mouth opening and shutting repeatedly. Niall eyed them up before strolling over to the blank screen, carefully setting his bag down and doing a mental assessment of all the props in the room.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” Louis demanded.
“Hey, I got pulled out of Iran to photograph people because I’m edgy or summat.” If Zayn was honest, Niall sounded as impressed with the idea as they all had. Interesting. “But life’s an adventure, right? You gotta make the most of it, so here I am.”
“Here you are,” Liam chirped, pasting his business smile on his face.
“I’m sure it’ll be fun,” Harry said, slinging an arm around Niall’s shoulders and giggling when Niall burrowed into his neck.
“I like you,” Niall mumbled. “You’re cuddly.”
Louis seethed from his chair and it made the edge of Zayn’s mouth quirk up just a bit.
“Whoa, didn’t think that was possible.” Zayn’s gaze flickered back round only to find their supposed ‘photographer’ a bare foot away from his face. Niall then poked his cheek. “Didn’t think this face moved,” he teased. “Is that a model thing? You think you look best like this so you stay like it?”
Louis howled with laughter and Zayn folded his arms. “At least I know how to do my job.”
Niall’s face dimmed. “Right. You’re one of them.” He turned on his heel, striding back to Harry. “Come with me to the screen and we’ll see if we can put some angles together, play with the lighting? Louis,” Niall called as he led Harry away, “I won’t do coloured lighting or anything, let’s keep things as natural as possible. Take that one,” he nodded at Zayn, “and do whatever it is you need to do to make him presentable. Since I usually photograph things without feelings I figure we’d best start with him. At least then I’ll have a familiar aspect to work with.”
Zayn was pretty sure he heard Liam’s jaw hitting the ground and Harry gasp quietly but he ignored them, gripping Louis’ arm and yanking him up. “Come on,” he snarled. “Let’s do what the fucker says. Then perhaps we’ll stand a chance of getting out of here before the sun goes down.”
***
Steering Harry into the centre space, Niall unzipped his bag, pulling out his camera and taking a few quick shots, wincing at the underexposure. As he fiddled with the isotope levels he felt the model’s gaze on him. Niall looked up, amused when Harry didn’t shy away from the eye contact, instead merely holding his gaze.
“Can I ask how old you are?” Harry asked, rocking back and forth cautiously, as if afraid to move his feet even an inch from where Niall had positioned him.
“I’m twenty-three, but I’ll be twenty-four in September. And for Christ’s sake, move if you want to. You’re not a bloody doll mate.”
Harry jerked in surprise before taking a single step. “…you sure?”
Niall rolled his eyes. “I’ll come over and topple you myself if it’ll get my point across.”
Harry grinned in full force, actually skipping off his mark and shuffling his way around the small space. “You’re the same age as Liam then,” he remarked, fluffing his hair up in the reflection of Niall’s lens.
Niall batted him away with a laugh before peering over at Liam with a frown. “Your manager? He’s twenty-three?”
“Yep!”
“Isn’t that…young?”
“Aren’t you?” Harry challenged. “Already world famous and travelling the world.”
Niall shrugged, taking several more shots, satisfied this time. “Didn’t need a degree to do what I do. Pretty young to get through university and climb the ladder this fast.”
“Simon helped,” Harry supplied absently, attention caught elsewhere.
Niall followed his gaze, watching as Louis applied the barest hint of eyeshadow to Zayn. He murmured something before spraying his face. Clearly there had been a misunderstanding because Zayn ended up with an eyeful of spray and they both started shouting.
“Louis, you fucking dick!”
“Don’t Louis me! I said “shut”! Face full of Urban Decay a nice feeling then?”
“I hate you.”
“Don’t rub it! I worked hard on that!”
Harry laughed loudly, Niall hastily raising his camera because he looked so happy, so carefree, like he was having so much fun. As the ruckus died down and Harry slipped back into something more neutral, Niall went back through the shots.
“That’s…that’s a really good one.”
“Jesus!” Niall jumped a good foot, whirling around to find Liam peering over his shoulder.
“Sorry, sorry! I just…” Liam tapped at the screen, Niall exhaling loudly at the smudge that action left behind. “That’s a really good photo of Harry. Looks very…I don’t know the word.”
“Natural.” Niall tightened up as Zayn came over, eyes no longer red and expression completely blank. “The word you’re looking for; it’s natural.” He gave Liam a tiny shrug as he gestured Zayn forward. “The best things in life usually are.”
***
They were given three days to complete the shoot. Three days Zayn would have to deal with Niall Horan before his name, and grating voice, was never heard again. Zayn wouldn’t say he didn’t like him on principle, it was more that he had no sense of tact, no prior experience, no idea what the hell he was doing, no sense of style…Okay, Zayn didn’t like him on principle. Which was why, upon gathering his things and preparing to head back to Louis’ after their last day of shoots, Zayn froze upon hearing Harry call out,
“Hey Niall! Got any plans for tonight?”
Niall jerked up from where he was packing his gear away, looking quite startled. “Eh…no?”
“Wanna hang with us?”
“You…you want me to hang with you?”
And did…did he sound borderline fragile?
Harry rolled his eyes, hands fisting on his hips. “Yeah, of course. You’re fun. I like you.”
Which, he did. Of course he did. Zayn was honestly surprised he hadn’t seen it coming it was so blindingly obvious. They’d spent a mere seven hours together and the two had already been interacting on twitter. Sure, it was innocent enough-
NiallIRE: london tubes are a fucking mess. I just wanna get home, tired af
Harry_Styles: @NiallIRE but didn’t seeing my face make it worth it?
NiallIRE: @Harry_Styles not a chonce
NiallIRE: *chance
NiallIRE: fuck
-but Harry and Zayn’s fans were ridiculously devoted. There was a reason Louis and Liam had millions of followers, and it wasn’t because of Louis’ make-up tutorials. No, it was the little snippets they got of their favourite people’s private lives. And now, clearly, Niall was a part of that group. Already his twitter follower count had spiked and Zayn had searched his mentions and found hundreds of variations of: do you know Harry?!?!
But Zayn had never thought that would resonate back into real-life. Social media was an image, fake. He could say one thing online and never mean it in person. Entire friendships could be faked or implied but this…this…Why was Harry making this a thing? From the thunderous look on Louis’ face, he was thinking much the same. Which, good, Zayn could use that to his advantage. If Louis wanted to be a jealous, insufferable twat, then so be it.
“Harry,” Zayn called, voice smooth and gentle and, holy fuck, did Niall’s eyes just narrow? It threw him a bit. “I…I’m sure Niall’s busy, yeah?”
Harry’s lip were filling into a pout but Niall was already holding his hands up. “Mates, it’s fine. He’s right.” He jerked a thumb at his bag. “Was just gonna go back to the hotel and go through these and-”
Wait, hotel?!
“You…you’re staying in a hotel?”
Niall blinked at Zayn’s interruption. His expression then turned quizzical. “Yeah, of course. Got nowhere else, do I?”
And okay, that may have possibly been the saddest thing Zayn had ever heard. Harry looked like a kicked puppy and even Liam had been turned into a simpering mess. “Don’t you have a flat?” Liam wheedled. “Friends? Family?”
Niall folded his arms tightly. “I travel constantly for a living. Doesn’t do much for long-term friendships, does it? The friends I have are the ones I make along the way and then…once you leave the country, you leave them.” He managed a sunny smile but Zayn could tell it was an effort. “But they have the best stories and it doesn’t make me treasure them any less. The world is full of amazing people. I’m just lucky I get to meet so many of them.”
No one quite knew what to say to that, Liam eventually getting the nerve to speak just as Niall was about to head to the door. “Hey, why don’t we combine the two?” he suggested. “Let’s all go to Niall’s and we’ll have some drinks and go through the photos together?”
“Sure, just invite yourself over Li’,” Louis drawled, smile crooked.
Liam looked mortified. “Oh my god, no! I didn’t…that’s not what I-”
“Liam!” Niall laughed, stomping back over and shoving him teasingly. “You’re not creepy so forget that. And if you wanna come, come. I can’t promise I’ll have much to keep you entertained but it’s a nice enough place. View’s good.” He gave them a thumbs up. “I’ll give Liam my address. After you lot get all that shit off your faces, hit me up!”
He waved before disappearing out of the studio and Zayn only had to look to his right before groaning loudly. Oh alright, they were going then.
***
Niall’s hotel room wasn’t much, really. It had a large double bed, an equally large bathroom, and a serviceable kitchen that backed onto a living area with two couches and a tv. What Zayn found interesting though was that it looked all but untouched. In the armchair tucked between the bed and the large window overlooking London city sat a backpack, pieces of clothing scattered in and around it…and that was all. They found Niall sitting on one of the sofas with his feet propped onto the coffee table and an old Mac resting on his lap. He smiled brightly as they all came in, Louis stamping out the water from his shoes and Harry shaking his ridiculously long hair.
“Heya boys!” Niall called cheerily, not even making the effort to stand, just waving serenely. “Shut the door on your way in.”
Liam did so as Zayn and Harry dumped down their bags. “You eaten Niall?” Harry asked as he started taking things out.
“Grabbed a bite on the way home but give me a shout if there’s leftovers.”
“There’s always left overs,” Liam informed him, starting to go through the cupboards and pulling out five plates. “These boys don’t always eat as much as they should.”
Niall’s eyes narrowed at the same time as Zayn’s. “And whose fault is that?” Zayn sneered.
“They still fucking do that then?” Niall asked, voice laced with anger. At Liam’s questioning look he gestured in the models’ directions. “Make them starve themselves?”
Liam winced. “It’s getting better. There’s a been a lot of pressure to drop weight requirements so we’re doing alright.” He bumped Zayn’s hip playfully, making him grunt. “Besides, these two don’t have the biggest builds to start with.”
“If they did, they wouldn’t even get their foot in the door,” Louis tacked on, gracelessly dropping down beside Niall, plate full and an identical one in his other hands for Niall, who took it with a quiet ‘cheers’. He shrugged. “It is what it is.”
“We’re not under as much pressure as the women,” Harry pointed out, sliding into a chair of his own. “So, that’s something. Doesn’t mean we’re still not advocating for more change. There’s a long way to go.”
“Think it’s a joke,” Niall spat, scowling down at his dinner and then almost guiltily at Zayn’s plate.
“Oh for God’s sake, don’t compare yourself to him,” Louis groaned. “Zayn’s just fussy. Nothing to do with his contract, promise.”
Zayn glared at Louis but drew his knees up protectively, shielding his meal from view. It wasn’t that he didn’t eat, he just preferred little bits of everything and so it never looked like much. Sure, he didn’t eat entire pizzas but he wasn’t on a water and cabbage only diet either. It didn’t seem to reassure Niall though and Zayn sent him a dark look because why did he even think it any of his business?
Liam was the last to sit down, meticulously organised with everything from cutlery to napkins. “So Niall,” he said around his first bite, “how do you think it’s been go-”
“Oh my god Liam!” Louis cried, hands flailing. “We’re eating! Fucking hell, give us five minutes’ peace!”
“Easy Louis,” Harry murmured, gently grabbing his hands and silencing him instantly, Zayn snorting in amusement. “I kinda wanna know myself.”
“Oh…” Louis looked delightfully besotted. “Well, Harold, I suppose…for you…”
Harry grinned, dimples popping, and how was he blind to the way Louis went bright red? Zayn doubted even a neon sign would be more obvious. Niall was watching the interaction with a quirked eyebrow but he indulged Harry and Liam nonetheless. He tapped the top of his laptop with a finger. “It’s all on here, if you wanna see.”
Louis spared the device a condescending look. “That’s tiny mate. Need a bigger screen, don’t we?”
Niall shrugged, nonplussed. “Don’t have one. Take it or leave it.”
Louis did so, swivelling the laptop around until he found the memory card undoubtedly holding the photos. “Can I take this out? I’ll plug it into mine.”
“There’s a cable in my satchel’s front pocket,” Liam called offhandedly as Louis got to his feet after seeing Niall nod. “We can hook it up to the tv that way.”
Seeing as how the tv was definitely bigger than his Mac, it wasn’t even a question as to which option Louis would take. He scurried about setting everything up while Niall looked almost unimpressed. He must have felt Zayn’s gaze, raising an eyebrow in his direction. Zayn stared back indifferently for as long as it took for him to realise that Niall was never going to be cowed. He eventually let his gaze slide away, pointing at the backpack behind them.
“That all you brought?”
“That’s all I’ve got.”
Louis nearly dropped the laptop and Liam choked on his chicken. Harry’s eyes were near bulging out of his skull. “S-sorry?!”
Niall looked between all of them incredulously. “What? For fuck’s sake lads, do you forget I travel for a living? Often to remote places?” He took a swig of his beer. “You try wheeling two suitcases up a mountain.”
Zayn was already on his feet, poking through Niall’s bag as if this wasn’t a massive invasion of privacy. “Yeah, but, what about other clothes? You fit, like, three sets in here.”
“Then three sets is all I have at the moment.” Niall’s tone was so blasé Zayn felt like he needed to sit down. Harry looked thankful that he already was. “When those clothes wear out, I buy more,” Niall explained, as if it really was that simple. “Pretty sure everything in there is from a different continent but hey, nearly every country has a variation of jeans and tees so I do alright. It’s swapping shoes that’s the real hell ‘cause those things weigh tons so you really gotta buy them as you need them. I think I go through a pair a fortnight just because I’ll go from alps to the beach, you know?”
“And that’s why you have this laptop?” Louis questioned, inspecting it with a little more care now. “Because it’s small and fits in there?”
Niall smiled. “’s about right.”
“But you must have a home,” Liam interjected. “Like, somewhere you grew up. With your family.”
Niall’s face morphed into a dark scowl and if Zayn didn’t know better, he’d say the room had become icy. “Think you should mind your own business,” Niall snapped and yep, icy. “You wanted to look at photos, so go do that.”
“Niall!” Harry begged as the Irishman stomped away, abandoning his meal and lunging over the sofa’s arm to wrap his arms around Niall’s waist, tugging him back. “Sorry Liam’s a nosy dick. Don’t go; we love you really.”
Zayn’s nose scrunched. Love was probably a bit strong.
Much too strong.
“Jesus Harry, don’t be so dramatic,” Niall chuckled, prying him off. “I was just putting my rubbish away. Calm your pants.”
“He doesn’t wear any,” Louis said absently, making Harry squawk.
“How do you know that?” he screeched.
Zayn laughed, coming to lean over the back of the couch, chin propped atop Harry’s head. “Haz, he ogles your junk every hour. You’ve seen the sketches.”
“Those are for work!” Harry protested, Zayn grinning slyly over at where Louis was attempting to glare holes into him.
“Hmm, s’pose they are,” he remarked, sliding round to slip into Harry’s lap, Harry drawing him in without thought. “Just…next time you get the chance, see how many he’s done of my-”
“Okay, enough!” Liam cried, clapping his hands over his ears. “Work, now. Leave your genitals where they should be. Which is out of conversation!” he added when both Zayn and Louis opened their mouths.
Zayn pouted but at Liam’s stern look he reluctantly shuffled off Harry’s lap. It placed him closer to Niall and Zayn cringed every time he had to hear that obnoxiously loud voice. It almost made Zayn want to duck out early, feign tiredness or a headache but then…then he actually saw the pictures that Niall had taken. And, shit. They were good. Brilliant, actually. Aces.
“Fuck…”
The word came from Louis and Zayn didn’t think he’d ever agreed with the other man more. He didn’t think he’d actually seen a photo that looked so much like Harry in years. The man on the screen, he was all warmth and love and fun, nothing like the severe, pouting looks he normally did. Out of the corner of his eye, Zayn saw Harry shoot Liam a loaded look. Zayn didn’t know what that meant but Liam obviously did, nodding and typing something into his phone.
“You sure you don’t do this for a living?” Louis demanded incredulously, pointing at the screen emphatically as he flipped through more images.
Niall gave a derisive snort. “Please. I still don’t have a clue.” He blinked as everyone stared at him in disbelief. “What?”
“This!” Liam stressed, all energy and buzz. “These are good. Like, very good. Professionally good.” His face got that business edge to it as he pointed to Harry and Zayn. “I wouldn’t accept anything of less quality for these two.”
“You are really good,” Harry praised, voice warm and mellow, smiling at the picture of Zayn half-hiding in the collar of his suit jacket. “I mean, he’s even smiling in that.”
“Oi!” Zayn barked, giving Harry’s hair a jug. “I smile!”
Louis, and even Liam, looked dubious. “You really don’t,” Louis tutted, shaking a finger at him. “But, you look good here, and that’s what matters.”
“Is it?” Niall’s voice sounded drained, making them all whip around in concern but Niall merely shook them off, getting to his feet. “Good to know it’s all about the outside. Now, I’m gonna shower. You lot, piss off when you’re done.”
He slammed the bathroom door shut and Zayn raised his eyebrows. Right then.
***