rubdown:“What are you doing here?” Liam says with a sigh. His eyes cut sharply to the door and

rubdown:“What are you doing here?” Liam says with a sigh. His eyes cut sharply to the door and he uncrosses his legs, body tensed to spring up. Louis would cut off his head if he left, though, and Liam knows it, so he just recrosses his leg, turning slightly away from Zayn. Zayn is holding his hand up to the side of his face, desperately trying to conceal himself until he can find a place to hide. This seems as good as any; nobody will expect him to be with Liam. He throws himself onto the couch, the only free spot to sit in the entire house. It squeaks horribly. “That wasn’t me,” Zayn says. "I know,” Liam says, his teeth clenched. “Your farts are silent. What are you doing here?” Liam says. “Louis is my best mate,” Zayn says. “He’s my best mate,” Liam interjects, picking nervously at the frayed knees of his jeans. “He’s both our best mates,” Zayn says, trying to keep the situation calm. “And I wanted to celebrate his birthday. He invited me." "I’ll give you this seat then,” Liam says. “Don’t go,” Zayn says. His hand comes into contact with Liam’s, and Liam jerks it away like Zayn tried to stab him. “Why?” Liam says. “My ex is over there,” Zayn says. “I’m your ex,” Liam says. “My other ex,” Zayn says. Zayn’s eyes track Harry’s movements, but Harry seems to be in with some other crowd. He just can’t get into that tonight of all nights. Louis would have no problem murdering two of his closest friends for ruining his birthday party. Liam, to Zayn’s surprise, actually stays put. Up close, he can still smell the chill winter air clinging to the worn leather of Liam’s jacket. That’s how Zayn remembers Liam the best, with pink chinks and snow caught in his hair, coming in from the cold so Zayn can warm him up. “I need a drink,” Liam says. ~*~ “Nice jacket,” Zayn says. He’s leaning too heavily on Liam’s thigh, he knows he is, but he can’t prop himself up. And why should he? Liam is his. Or he was, once. That jacket is his, too. “Thanks,” Liam says. He runs his hands over the sleeve of it as if he forgot he was wearing it. “It’s yours." "You planning on giving it back?” Zayn says, poking his finger into Liam’s chest accusingly. Somehow his forehead ends up touching Liam’s, their breath mingling together in a hot, champagne fog. “No,” Liam says. His eyes cross trying to stay focused on Zayn’s, glancing every other second at Zayn’s mouth. “You know what? Your jumper is really nice. It’s nice material." "It’s merino wool,” Zayn says. “Shut up,” Liam says, and he kisses Zayn. Before he knows it, they’ve kicked two other people out of their seats so they can stretch out on the couch. Liam rolls them over and gets on top of him, kissing him hard, kissing him like he’s making up for all the kissing they could’ve been doing all these months apart. “It’s a Lou-mas miracle,” Louis whoops from right above them. Liam wrenches their mouths apart. There are several people staring at them like they’ve each got their dicks out, and they might have. Zayn is pretty drunk. “I have to go,” Liam says, hands trembling and eyes wide. “We can’t do this." "No, don’t,” Zayn says, but Liam bolts before Zayn can tell him how much he misses him.  -- source link

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