a voice as soft as wild honey, a skin softer than down [4/?]
pairing: louis/harry, harry/zayn, louis/harry/zayn, liam/zayn, liam/danielle - if you can't take the heat get out of the kitchen
rating: eventually nc-17
summary: originally written for a prompt on the kink meme - All these kitten posts are making my heart ache. But I can't seem to find one of Zayn? harry & louis adopt zayn, a cat hybrid. hijinks and drama ensue. also liam is a kitten.
a/n: from now on this fic will only be posted on my journal, word count is getting to be too much of a headache for me. hope ya'll keep reading! please feel free to add me as a friend, too :)
“Christ,” Louis mutters, muffled, jerking awake against the mattress. Harry’s out of bed already, scrambling as fast as his sleepy legs can take him to the guest bedroom.
Zayn’s thrashing around, completely entangled in his sheets, letting out these howling screams that scare Harry. He runs to the bedside, grabs Zayn’s face in his hands.
“Zayn, wake up,” he says firmly. “Zayn!”
Zayn’s eyes shoot open, and he goes limp. “Oh,” he whispers, “oh, oh.” And then he’s sobbing, curling into Harry and shaking and whimpering.
“Shhh...” Harry holds him tightly, just clutching him and whispering. “You’re okay.”
Zayn goes still and tenses. “I need -” He struggles out of Harry’s arms and tears out of the room, Harry close behind.
Zayn’s bent over the toilet next door to his room, entire body heaving as his dinner empties into the basin. Harry sighs and kneels next to him, strokes his hair as Zayn sobs between retching. Louis appears in the doorway, arms crossed.
Harry glares at him, maybe a little harsher than he intended to, because after all, it is three in the morning and he is trying to comfort a sobbing, puking half-kitten on his bathroom floor. And he had told Louis not to give Zayn that shrimp. Louis looks apologetic enough, and goes to the kitchen and brings back a glass of water for Zayn.
When Zayn’s finally done with what seems like the forceful purging of his entire digestive tract into the toilet, Louis hands him the glass. “Here. Rinse and spit,” he says softly, and Zayn does so. Harry reaches up and flushes the toilet.
“Do you wanna come in with us?” he murmurs to Zayn, and he nods instantly.
Louis carries Zayn to their bedroom, and he and Harry hold him between their bodies until he stops whimpering. Even though it’s still early September, Zayn shivers until Harry finds a thicker blanket to wrap him in.
“Do you want to talk about what your dream was about?” Harry asks him softly. “What made you so scared?”
Zayn shudders, buries his head into Harry’s shoulder, his ears pinned. “Him,” he mutters, “him, he was here and you weren’t and he was coming and I couldn’t -” Zayn is working himself up again, breathing too fast and starting to tremble against their bodies.
“Okay, okay, shh, Zayn, it’s okay. Let’s not talk about it right now. Let’s just go to sleep, and we’re right here, okay? We aren’t going to leave,” Harry tells him as Louis pets his back.
Zayn draws in a shuddering breath. “M’cold,” he mumbles distantly, squirming under the covers. Louis and Harry shuffle closer until he’s literally sandwiched in between them, and his breath evens out slowly until he’s asleep again.
Harry and Louis are too tired to discuss anything, so they just duck their heads over Zayn’s and let their eyes slip closed, piled together in an exhausted tangle.
Louis’ eyes flicker open three minutes before his alarm is set to go off, and he extracts his arm from where it’s jammed between Zayn and Harry to shut it off.
Zayn’s face is peaceful, like it was when he fell asleep on the couch the night before. His slight chest rises and falls steadily, and Louis thinks he must be dreaming, because his ears flick every so often and his tail, which has wound its way out of his pajama pants, twitches slowly. He’s nestled into the crook of Harry’s neck. Harry’s face looks a little troubled, but it always does that, always scrunches and furrows a bit when he’s asleep, as though he’s taking his rest very seriously.
Louis leans forward to squeeze Harry’s shoulder, and his eyes open immediately. While he’s generally a heavy sleeper, if he’s nervous about something then he’ll wake up at the drop of a pin.
“I have to go,” he whispers. “Will you be all right?”
Harry looks at him sleepily, then nods once.
“I’ll leave my phone on,” Louis tells him, and shuts the door as he leaves for the shower.
rating: eventually nc-17
summary: originally written for a prompt on the kink meme - All these kitten posts are making my heart ache. But I can't seem to find one of Zayn? harry & louis adopt zayn, a cat hybrid. hijinks and drama ensue. also liam is a kitten.
a/n: from now on this fic will only be posted on my journal, word count is getting to be too much of a headache for me. hope ya'll keep reading! please feel free to add me as a friend, too :)
“Christ,” Louis mutters, muffled, jerking awake against the mattress. Harry’s out of bed already, scrambling as fast as his sleepy legs can take him to the guest bedroom.
Zayn’s thrashing around, completely entangled in his sheets, letting out these howling screams that scare Harry. He runs to the bedside, grabs Zayn’s face in his hands.
“Zayn, wake up,” he says firmly. “Zayn!”
Zayn’s eyes shoot open, and he goes limp. “Oh,” he whispers, “oh, oh.” And then he’s sobbing, curling into Harry and shaking and whimpering.
“Shhh...” Harry holds him tightly, just clutching him and whispering. “You’re okay.”
Zayn goes still and tenses. “I need -” He struggles out of Harry’s arms and tears out of the room, Harry close behind.
Zayn’s bent over the toilet next door to his room, entire body heaving as his dinner empties into the basin. Harry sighs and kneels next to him, strokes his hair as Zayn sobs between retching. Louis appears in the doorway, arms crossed.
Harry glares at him, maybe a little harsher than he intended to, because after all, it is three in the morning and he is trying to comfort a sobbing, puking half-kitten on his bathroom floor. And he had told Louis not to give Zayn that shrimp. Louis looks apologetic enough, and goes to the kitchen and brings back a glass of water for Zayn.
When Zayn’s finally done with what seems like the forceful purging of his entire digestive tract into the toilet, Louis hands him the glass. “Here. Rinse and spit,” he says softly, and Zayn does so. Harry reaches up and flushes the toilet.
“Do you wanna come in with us?” he murmurs to Zayn, and he nods instantly.
Louis carries Zayn to their bedroom, and he and Harry hold him between their bodies until he stops whimpering. Even though it’s still early September, Zayn shivers until Harry finds a thicker blanket to wrap him in.
“Do you want to talk about what your dream was about?” Harry asks him softly. “What made you so scared?”
Zayn shudders, buries his head into Harry’s shoulder, his ears pinned. “Him,” he mutters, “him, he was here and you weren’t and he was coming and I couldn’t -” Zayn is working himself up again, breathing too fast and starting to tremble against their bodies.
“Okay, okay, shh, Zayn, it’s okay. Let’s not talk about it right now. Let’s just go to sleep, and we’re right here, okay? We aren’t going to leave,” Harry tells him as Louis pets his back.
Zayn draws in a shuddering breath. “M’cold,” he mumbles distantly, squirming under the covers. Louis and Harry shuffle closer until he’s literally sandwiched in between them, and his breath evens out slowly until he’s asleep again.
Harry and Louis are too tired to discuss anything, so they just duck their heads over Zayn’s and let their eyes slip closed, piled together in an exhausted tangle.
Louis’ eyes flicker open three minutes before his alarm is set to go off, and he extracts his arm from where it’s jammed between Zayn and Harry to shut it off.
Zayn’s face is peaceful, like it was when he fell asleep on the couch the night before. His slight chest rises and falls steadily, and Louis thinks he must be dreaming, because his ears flick every so often and his tail, which has wound its way out of his pajama pants, twitches slowly. He’s nestled into the crook of Harry’s neck. Harry’s face looks a little troubled, but it always does that, always scrunches and furrows a bit when he’s asleep, as though he’s taking his rest very seriously.
Louis leans forward to squeeze Harry’s shoulder, and his eyes open immediately. While he’s generally a heavy sleeper, if he’s nervous about something then he’ll wake up at the drop of a pin.
“I have to go,” he whispers. “Will you be all right?”
Harry looks at him sleepily, then nods once.
“I’ll leave my phone on,” Louis tells him, and shuts the door as he leaves for the shower.