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Zayn wakes up to the sound of his little sister shrieking from what appears (or sounds) to be the kitchen. So he promptly rolls over and buries his head in the pillow, willing himself to get past the hurricane in his ear and get some blessed sleep while everything blew over.
"Zayn!"
Zayn groans loudly and pulls the blankets over his head.
"Zayn for goodness sake, get down here, you’ve gotten plenty of sleep. It’s nearly noon."
"Quit nagging me about everything, mum." Zayn shouts back, brain a haze of sleep rusted film, and his stomach sinks immediately when he hears the pounding on the stairway.
His door is thrown open two seconds later and Zayn sighs, pulling the blanket down so he can peek at his mum with just his eyes uncovered. Her hair and eyes are wild and Waliyha’s clinging to her, pleading eyes trying to catch Zayn’s. Zayn systematically avoids them because his sisters have the worst puppy eyes in history and he ends up falling face first while trying to please them.
"Zayn, listen, we need your help," his mum says, "Wali’s just won tickets at that radio show and she’s going to have dinner with that new pop-star what’s his name."
Zayn narrows his eyes at his sister, “Liam Payne.” And by the way Waliyha’s eyes get all starry, he assumes he’s guessed right.
Tricia snaps her fingers, eyes lighting in recognition, “Yes that’s the one. Now listen - I’m not just about to let my little girl -“
"But mum - it’s a once in a life time opportunity,” Waliyha whines but Tricia sends her a withering look.
"Not under my roof, young lady. I’m not about to let you go gallivanting off with some man twice your age."
Wahilya huffs, rolling her eyes, “He’s twenty and a pop-star not forty and a pedophile.”
"What I’m saying," Tricia’s voice is shrill and high pitched now, "is that you’re not going alone. Period."
The air stands still for a moment so Zayn decides to take this as a chance to let himself be known, “That’s lovely and all, but can you two take this discussion, you know, away?” He tips his head pointedly at the hallway but Tricia fixes him with a hard look.
"Zayn," she beings quietly and Zayn knows that tone. His mum always uses it when she’s trying to wheedle something out of him, "would you like to take Wali to see this…Liam?"
Zayn snorts, “No.”
And Waliyha throws herself at him, eyes wide and Zayn’s a man alright? He’s not affected by his cute little sister who actually isn’t all that little. He remembers going out and buying fifteen candles last year but if it were up to him she’d stay five forever.
She lands on top of him and he falls back with a huff.
"Please bhai. Please?” She clutches his shoulders and looks down at him with huge eyes, “Please Zayn? I want to go so bad, Zayn.”
Zayn groans loudly as she pouts, dimples indenting the sides of her cheeks. He looks helplessly at his mum who does nothing but smirk back at him.
He sits up, grumbling, shooting Waliyha a resigned look, “I hate this family and everyone in it.”
………………………………………..
"Where are we going?" Zayn mutters, slouching in the back of the cab and pulling at the collar of his polo. Tricia had grabbed him that afternoon and wrestled him into a white polo and slacks because it’s important to make a good impression, sweetheart. Zayn’s arm still hurts from where she’d managed to twist it.
Waliyha on the other hand is bouncing up and down in her seat, brushed hair falling onto her bare shoulders and pretty eyes darkly lined. She looks lovely and if Liam lays one hand on her, Zayn’s going to kill him. International fucking pop star or not.
"Can’t you even pretend to be excited, Zayn?” Waliyha asks loudly and the cab driver snickers at him.
Zayn glares stoutly at the front seat until he’s sure the man’s not looking at him, “For what? Oh lucky me, I’m spending two hours with the biggest twat in music who’s also currently trying to pretend he’s an actual singer.”
Waliyha gasps loudly, hand over her heart, “How can you say that? Do you evenknow how much he’s been through? He was bullied Zayn - bullied from the age of four and he was born without a kidney. He spent every day getting thirty four injections - “
Zayn tunes out completely, resting his head wearily against the window. He wonders if his mum, dad, and sisters would miss him terribly if he decided to fling himself into oncoming traffic.
………………………………………..
It takes them entirely too long to get to the venue - some fancy, jazzy diner that’s been completely rented out specifically for this occasion.
Waliyha’s eyes round in amazement, “It’s so pretty.” Her breathing gets a little faster and Zayn leans over in the cab to grip her shoulders, “Zayn, he’s inside.”
"Waliyha listen to me, yeah?" Zayn shakes her shoulders gently, turning her to face him and she focuses in on him - though just barely, "Wali, if he’s a dick, then it’s his problem ok? You don’t feel bad about it later because it’s not your fault."
Waliyha frowns at him, “He’s not a -“
"Promise me you won’t think it’s your fault."
Waliyha averts her eyes back to the diner, “Promise ok, bhai. Now can we pleasego in?”
Zayn sighs, wondering if he even got through. He leans over to unlock the door, “Fine,” he grumbles but Waliyha barely sticks around to hear him, bounding straight up to the security guard at the front of the diner and flashing him a pass.
Zayn closes his eyes for a minute, rubbing his temples, because he’s got a feeling that Liam Payne - a fucking, cheap shot - was probably looking forward to this as much as Zayn was. But when he reopens his eyes, Waliyha’s waving at him excitedly and he thinks that if Liam lets his sister down, Zayn’s going to break his face.
………………………………………..
It turns out Liam is late.
And Zayn wants to slam his fist into the security guard that informs them as such when he watches Wali’s face fall.
"Is he going to show up at all?" he asks sharply and Waliyha’s shoots him a shut the hell up look, but Zayn has eyes only for the guard whose nametag reads Paul in tiny letters. Not that Zayn’s going to dignify him with a name.
Paul grins at him, patting his shoulder, “Course he will. Nice kid, that Liam.”
Zayn doesn’t reply, only sinking lower into the plush seats, but Waliyha’s still looking eagerly at the door.
They end up waiting for another twenty fucking minutes before the door bangs open and Liam, all short, brown hair, thick arms, and deceptively warm eyes, pushes in sharply, heading straight for their table. He’s speaking rapidly at the same time and Zayn catches something along the lines of, “Sorry, so sorry - first there was a mob and then the traffic. Didn’t mean to keep you waiting - honest. I’m really sorry.”
He composes himself just as he reaches the table. He grins brightly down at the two of them before holding out a hand to Zayn, “‘m Liam,” he says. And he’s in a pair of low-slung jeans and a red and white baseball tee and Zayn wants to know what he’d look like without any of it on.
Zayn flushes then because holy fucking lord, Liam is fit - for a cheesy pop artist anyway - but this isn’t about him. It’s about Waliyha. So Zayn shakes his head and gestures towards his eyes little sister who’s got visible hearts in her eyes, “You’re not here for me, mate. You’re here for my little sister.”
"Oh," Liam says and something akin to disappointment passes through his face before it’s smoothing back into a sunny smile. He turns to Waliyha, "It’s nice to meet you. I’m Liam."
Zayn rolls his eyes at the line but Waliyha’s eating it all up, “I’m Waliyha - but you can call me Wali,” she says breathlessly. Zayn clenches his fist because no Liam cannot call her Wali.
Liam pulls another bright smile and Zayn hopes his face gets stuck like that, though he reckons it’s already like that most of the time anyway.
Paul shuffles up behind them, “Right lads - and lady - you lot can have anything from the menu. It’s on the house.” He hands them all a folded up cart and Zayn sets his down on the table without taking a look, eyes still sneaking glances at Liam’s profile because wouldn’t he like that spread out in his bed, whimpering and moaning? He shifts awkwardly, feeling his jeans tighten at just the mental image.
Liam smiles a little awkwardly, rubbing his arm, “Sorry. I’m terrible at these things.” He laughs nervously, “Feel free to completely ignore me.”
But Zayn is sure that ignoring Liam was the last thing Wali was going to do.
Liam goes to take a seat next to Waliyha but Zayn shoots him a threatening glare so Liam hastily straightens himself out and gingerly sits down next to Zayn instead, careful to keep a distance between the two of them.
They sit in silence for a minute and then Liam huffs a breath, “Sorry,” he says again, eyes soft, “Not very good at this. How are you, babe?”
Waliyha grins back at him, “Brilliant. I’m so excited to be here - this is like, unreal. I never excepted to be doing this - like ever.”
And Zayn wants to crawl under a table but Liam smiles, wide and real, eyes crinkling at the corners, “And I’m really excited to meet you too.” He leans in closer like it’s some sort of secret, “Thanks for coming honestly - was actually afraid for a while that no-one would.”
Zayn snorts internally because is this guy for real?
"And you are…"
Zayn jerks up, bit shocked to have been addressed, “Zayn,” he grunts, “Zayn Malik.”
Liam’s face colors prettily, “Zayn,” he murmurs back and Zayn’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline, “I really like your tattoos,” he gestures to the ink peeking out behind the collar of his polo, “What’s it say?”
Wali laughs from the other side, eyes glittering, “Mum hates them - but Zayn does what he wants.”
"No I don’t," Zayn counters back sharply, "I’m here aren’t I."
And then he sort of wishes he could take back those words because Liam’s face falls considerably and Zayn feels a bit like a mass murderer of laughter, children, and puppies. “Oh,” Liam says, just to top it all off, “I um - you can, like, go out back if you want. There’s this really nice bar just down the street.” But he doesn’t slide out so Zayn can get out of the booth.
Zayn curses under his breath and Waliyha eyes him critically, “No no - I. That was a joke,” he forces laughter and a bright smile, “you know little sisters.” He ignores Waliyha’s indignant squawk - he doesn’t need to feel like an even bigger asshole.
Liam smiles waveringly, “Whatever you say, mate.”
Waliyha’s fingers tighten around her fork and she’s got that how dare you be rude to Liam Payne of all people. He’s wonderful, beautiful, incredible -
Zayn drops his chin on his knuckle and sweeps his gaze out the window as Liam and Waliyha continue to chat about some concert Waliyha had been to. And he knows he’s just being a bit broody because Liam, dare he say it, is nice. And that’s a lot more than he can say about any other celebrity. Not that Zayn’s really met that many celebrities (or any at all for that matter). He’s just a bit quick to stereotype, always has been.
Paul comes out a few minutes later, “Kitchen wants to know what you lot want?” He turns to Waliyha first and Zayn doesn’t even hear what she rattles off, flipping madly through the menu he’d completely ignored up to this point.
"And you, kid?" Paul asks.
Zayn looks up wide-eyed like a deer caught in the headlights. Waliyha snickers at him and he shoots her a look before picking the first dish that he could find with the word ‘chicken,’ “The…. Chicken Scallopini?” It comes out like a question, but Paul grunts again in agreement.
"Chicken Casserole," Liam says happily because of-fucking-course, when is Liam not happy?
Paul nods again, muttering the orders rapidly under his breath as he makes his way back to the kitchen.
There’s another silence.
Zayn clears his throat this time, “Where are you headed to next, then?” He seesWaliyha open her mouth, to give him Liam’s tour schedule no doubt, but Liam beats her to it.
"Australia," he replies, blush still painting the tips of his ears. His eyes drop to Zayn’s mouth for a second and Zayn blinks back in surprise. He leans back sharply before continuing, "And then to the States."
Zayn hums, “Must be nice - seeing the world and all.”
Waliyha snorts, “You never even leave your room.”
And forget every nice thing he’s ever said about his little sister - she’s an absolute little shit and Zayn wants to strangle her. But Liam’s mouth quirks up endearingly, “I guess, yeah. But you do miss home quite a bit. Nothing like the dreary English country side is there?”
Zayn shrugs, “Yeah, guess so, mate.”
"Not that you would know," Waliyha points out helpfully from the other end of the table.
Needless to say, Zayn’s extremely glad when their food does arrive. But the waiter looks a little sheepish, setting down Waliyha’s dish - which looks to be some sort of Ravioli - and then the Casserole in front of Liam. He rocks back and forth on his feet for a long moment, “I’m sorry sir, but our kitchen’s out of chicken,” he gestures helplessly, “It’s overtime - we weren’t supposed to have customers.”
Zayn lets a rush of air out his nose and squeezes his eyes shut for a long moment. “It’s fine,” he says tightly and Jesus Christ he can’t wait to go home and forget any of this ever happened.
The waiter nods, looking grateful at being let off so easily and scurries off without asking Zayn for an alternate order.
But then Liam’s scraping his dish over to him, holding out an extra fork to him, “Come on then.”
Zayn furrows his brow, “What’d you mean?”
Liam’s hand shakes a little and he looks nervous, “Can’t let you starve though can I?” Zayn takes the fork and looks down at the plate hesitantly. Liam grabs a knife from his right and slices the casserole in half, “Here, ” he says, pointing, “you can have that part.” Zayn blinks at him and Liam bites his lips again, “Ok?”
"Yeah," Zayn says quietly and his voice is a little hoarse.
He glances at Wali and her eyes are wide, glancing between the two of them with a shit-eating grin. He groans internally because she has that look in her eyes that she had when Zayn had brought home Rebecca all those years ago.
"Zayn likes comic books just like you do, " she says to Liam and Liam gives him a side-ways, shy peek (his eyes are huge and brown in the lighting). Zayn doesn’t really want to know how she figured out that Liam likes comics but he’s got a feeling that going through his sister’s Internet history would be the most life-scarring experience he’d ever had. Including the time he’d flaked on Danny and Ant during a high school recital - midway through the performance.
"Do you?" Liam asks him, stabbing his fork into the casserole, "Who’s your favorite?"
Zayn swallows down his bite, “Batman?”
And Liam’s eyes crinkle adorably, “I’ve got a whole set of Batman first edition stuff in my tour bus.” He trails off, “Um - if you’d like to see them that is. You know. Sometime.”
And something’s beginning to pool in Zayn’s chest, warm and bright and real. “Yeah,” he mumbles because Liam’s kind of dorky and extremely cool at the same time and Zayn doesn’t know how to deal with that. He wrings his hands, “That’d be cool.”
Wali clears her throat, “If you two are done shamelessly flirting, then Zayn will you pass me the salt?”
Zayn chokes and Liam moves back a full six inches (and Zayn hadn’t really noticed how close they’d actually gotten up until now). Liam’s ears a bright red again, “I’m not - not with. Not flirting. He’s - sorry. I just.”
Waliyha holds up a hand and Liam’s silenced instantly, curling in on himself and god help Zayn, he wants to cuddle him, “It’s fine.” She taps her fingers to her temple, “I’ve got it all worked out.”
Liam looks taken-aback and he throws Zayn a confused look, but Zayn’s shaking his head at him. Because Liam doesn’t even want to fucking know that Wali probably already has an evil plan cooked up on how to Make Liam Payne Mine.
He shivers lightly at the thought and Liam smiles at him again, bright and full with all his teeth. If he doesn’t stop doing that, Zayn’s going to lay him across the restaurant floor and make them both shiver for very different reasons.
Liam leans into him again, hesitant, “I’m sorry,” he mumbles.
Zayn furrows his brow, “For what?”
Liam shrugs helplessly, eyes fixated on the way Wali’s pointedly looking at her plate like it’s the most fascinating piece of china in the world as she eats, “I’m trying to -” he fumbles, “I’m really bad at flirting.”
And Zayn knows he shouldn’t be, but his mouth’s pulling up softly at the corners, ” ‘s alright,” he tells him, “most guys are anyway.”
Liam fidgets lightly and he’s scooting closer, hand reaching out to brush across Zayn’s under the table, “Sorry.”
Zayn raises a smooth eyebrow, “I didn’t say it wasn’t working.”
And at that, Liam’s gaze snaps to him and he’s looking at Zayn open mouthed and eyes bright, “Really?” he whispers, incredulously. His hand tightens around Zayn’s fingers.
Zayn snorts again, “Really.”
Waliyha coughs but both of them ignore her this time.
"Listen," Liam begins quietly, ducking his head, "maybe we can - like. Dunno. Have our own date? Sometime?"
Zayn tries and fails to suppress a smile, “Why not?”
And Liam spends the night rubbing circles into the back of Zayn’s hands while Zayn sort of beams at him, feeling foolish and light and happy.