ziam smut

Yeah? Yeah.

Yeah? Yeah
hotguyproblems on archiveofourown

Summary:

This was the most anticipating part of the interview, one I had thought about how to answer over and over and over.

"Now Liam, there's been a lot of speculation over the where's and how's. I know there are a lot of people eager to hear the details. So perhaps you could clear the air...

Ziam - Oneshot

Work Text:

We were sat in adjacent chairs. Uncomfortable and stiff, an accurate representation of the atmosphere in the room. Zayn was sat next to me idly twiddling his thumbs; a habit, I noticed shortly after we first met, he'd taken to doing before every interview. We were the only two from the band being grilled today seeing as the story was going to be about us. Our relationship. The interviewer sat across from us, his crisp white shirt untucked and his tie loosened. He'd made it so after I had told him to relax, we liked having fun with the interviewers and although our topic of discussion was supposed to be serious, he didn't have to dress like you would to a funeral. Or a wedding.

I nudged the back of Zayn's hand with my own, prompting him to take it into his. Our interview about to begin, I wanted him to feel at ease. With the added benefit of the contact reliving tension building inside of me. It was only a short time later before the two of us had relaxed completely, the interview was going well. More so, in fact. The bloke asking us preconceived questions was obviously a natural.

With the rapport between us reaching its peak, the inevitable topic I had been impatiently awaiting was finally brought up. This was the most anticipating part of the interview, one I had thought about how to answer over and over and over.

"Now Liam, there's been a lot of speculation over the where's and how's. I know there are a lot of people eager to hear the details. So perhaps you could clear the air. How did you propose?"

-- 0 --

I woke up slowly to sounds of heavy breathing.

Sunlight from the window was filtering in from a gap between the curtains, illuminating the room and shining right into my face. As my eyes adjusted to the bright light I looked over at the man cradled in my arms. The source of the heavy breathing. His face was turned towards me, his features young and calm. Zayn was still fast asleep, more often than not he always was when I woke up. The sunlight streaming through the window extended across the pillow encompassing his head as well. However, from this angle his face was shaded, with the light irradiating around his hair like a halo. Apt, I thought.

I looked over at the clock on our bedside table, the screen displaying 11:00. We'd stayed up until 2am playing FIFA and watching horribly scripted horror films, so the time came as no surprise. I lay there for 10/15 minutes, maybe more, just staring at the light stubble dusting his jaw and his gorgeous cheekbones that made my knees weak; appearing sharp enough to cut glass in the early afternoon light; before Zayn started to stir.

I love how he wakes up.

He always scrunches up his nose and furrows his brow seemingly chasing sleep away. Then he opens his eyes ever so carefully before blinking a few times to get his bearings. Unhurried, he trains his hazel eyes on mine and gives me a look that pierces straight into my soul. And my heart. Usually I see molten chocolate in the silhouette of his eyes but the bright morning light is highlighting the green flecks in his iris' and the colour can only be described as beautiful. That's probably when the idea first started to form in my head.

A half smile tugs at his lips and he hides his face in the pillow against my gaze.

"Morning," he mumbles.