Zarry - i'm outside the door, invite me in

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Harry wouldn’t exactly call himself a spontaneous guy; he was more the sort to write pro-and-con lists before making any sort of major decision in his life. When he moved out, he filled up at least three pages of pros and cons before actually deciding to do it. It was the same with going to uni and picking a law firm to intern with—pros and cons and the like.

Which kind of led to his current situation… He had traveled home to Holmes Chapel for a weekend, accompanying his mum to take their cat to the vet for a routine checkup, when he saw the sign. And Harry had always had a big heart—biggest of the big, according to his mum—but the sad little face of the abandoned Husky pup just called to him. And it was the next day when he was driving home, a little Husky pup named Bucky curled up in his passenger’s seat, when it finally settled in.

Harry had adopted a puppy. A six week old abandoned and abused Husky puppy with a scratched nose and scared eyes who was looking up at him like Harry was his world. And Harry wanted to be, even though he had always grown up with cats, there was something about this puppy. And, without an extensive pro-con list, he knew he made the right choice.

And he tried to remind himself of that one week later when Bucky was chewing at all of his furniture and relieving himself wherever he saw fit.

Harry groaned when he got back home, seeing Bucky sleeping in his little dog bed next to a pile of poo. He set his satchel down on the table before cleaning up and finding Bucky’s leash, the jangling of the metal causing the little pup to wake up and let out a happy little bark. Harry couldn’t even be mad—what did he expect the pup to do when he was cooped up all day?

“C’mon, that’s a good pup,” he said quietly, scratching between Bucky’s ears as he hooked up his leash, stuffing a handful of treats in his pocket before opening the door to his flat and stepping into the hallway. It was barely a second later when he heard Bucky let out a pathetic bark and a whimper, cowering behind Harry’s legs, and he looked up to see his neighbor, Zayn, walking back up the stairs with his pit bull on a leash and a cigarette behind his ear. “S’okay, Buck,” he assured him, reaching down to scratch at his ears. “Sorry.”

Zayn shrugged slowly, walking past Harry to unlock the door to his flat. “Didn’t know ya had a dog,” he commented.

Harry bit his lip because no, Zayn didn’t know anything about him, really; they had been neighbors for four months and they had seen each other a grand total of eight times. It was around the third time that Harry actually got the courage to introduce himself because he had never seen someone as gorgeous as Zayn and, well, it was more than a bit intimidating. Their interactions were limited from trying to get their post at the same time to the one time Zayn held the door open for Harry when he was carrying groceries to the last time they had seen each other, when Harry had gotten in late after going to the pub with Niall to see Zayn and some mysterious lad snogging in the hallway, jeans half undone, and Harry had gone red, apologizing profusely before hiding in his flat. And that had been three weeks ago, and Harry could still feel his cheeks flushing at the memory. “Yeah, he’s—he’s new,” he answered lamely.

Zayn let go of his dog’s leash, letting him run into the flat, before shutting the door and turning back to face Harry’s pup. “S’wrong with his nose?” he asked softly, brow furrowed.

Harry pouted, leaning down to pick up Bucky, ignoring the way he was shedding against his good dress clothes, and cuddled him against his chest. “Poor baby was abused and abandoned,” he said softly, pressing his lips to Bucky’s forehead, letting out a laugh when Bucky nuzzled him. “He was kind of a spur of the moment decision.”

Zayn took a step closer, holding his hand out. “May I?”

Harry nodded, watching as Bucky tentatively reached forward and sniffed at Zayn’s hand for a moment before licking his hand. “Think he likes you,” Harry whispered, a little breathless.

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