Fic: If this is your first time at fight club, you have to fight.
Title: If this is your first time at fight club, you have to fight.
Prompt: Play Fighting
Pairing: Louis/Zayn
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2K
Warnings: none.
Summary: They're too old for this. Probably. Not really.
This was written for 1directionelite.
They're too old for this. Probably. Not really.
They never really think about it; Zayn pins Louis down, grips his wrists above his head, knees bracketing his sides, pinning him down under him. He's all breathless laughs, gasped breathing, and flashing teeth. Louis's face is flushed brightly, hot under the commotion. He is grinning, but there's a maniac look about him, and he tosses a leg over Zayn's back and tries to pull his weight up; sit up, pulling Zayn down against himself with an effort.
Zayn's flat against the floor, laughs up at Louis, tries to catch his breath and Louis grins. "Stop just laying there and hit me,"
Louis holds his position for five seconds before Zayn throws him off. And it's effortless and easy when Zayn throws him off, like he's just some sort of weightless pile of bones. Louis doesn't usually pin him down It’s only rare when he’s in that position; Zayn’s always too careful not to break Louis but when they’re wrestling like that, all is a past recollection. He is the one usually on the other side of things. Zayn doesn't get pinned, none of the other boys even could, but it certainly doesn't stop Louis from trying.
It's Zayn's point, he's got knees on the small of Louis's back, a hand on his neck, and the other hand cutting fingernails into his wrist.
It will leave marks, probably.
Louis hisses and tries to kick him off, pushes him back, twist against him, but Zayn's hold on him is mad strong and Louis wonders how is it that this is even possible when all Zayn does is lay around all day, all the time.
Sometimes Zayn laughs too loud, like this is all a grand joke to him, and as it should be to Louis. But every time he pins Louis to the floor, he forgets. Louis forgets. It gushes through his veins in a burning haste, ruthlessness sinking in his tenor, and it makes him crane his neck to kiss Zayn with wet, sucking lips that makes Zayn sigh against his jaw line, fingers clenching, unclenching.
Then, Louis's spread outright against the floor, Zayn's up over him, propped on his elbows and the reason his ribs are aching and his chest's tightening is long forgotten.
Louis chokes out a ragged gasp, pulls Zayn down by the collar and they're kissing hard and demanding; bodies jostled with heat clinging like a burning flame.
After some time, Harry's keys jiggle in the hallway and he pushes the door closed after him, dropping two grocery bags on the coffee table above their heads.
For a moment there, Harry thinks they couldn't hear him, being that they very much happen to be occupied. But Louis puts his finger up, and Harry resists wanting to kick him.
Also Zayn. Just for good measure.
The thing is, he doesn't. He just lets them be.
**
Louis breaks the teeth rule.
No teeth. Zayn'd think that would be a given, but Louis brings it up amiable, well-played, and Zayn tries to bite back the laugh, pushes Louis off and sinks his own teeth on the scattily exposed skin of his neck instead.
In a few seconds, Louis makes a cannibalism joke, hisses and frets under Zayn and all Zayn would say is. "You cheated,"
And there isn't anything Louis hates more than being accused of something straight up like that. But it's not like it matters right this second. Because right this second, he has Zayn's mouth on his neck, and the fight panting to a stop.
He can feel the warmth radiating from Zayn and onto his chest. He can smell his horniness even from outer space. But most importantly he can feel Zayn's tongue when it flicks out between his teeth and tastes his skin.
And okay, maybe Louis's more than willing to break the teeth rule from now on.
Leaning forward, Zayn hitches his hips against Louis, grating shallow against his stomach, presses his face into Louis's neck and bites softly at the warm skin there.
He feels Louis stretch, hears him sigh and whimper, arching his back in a long pull, arms going above Zayn's head. Then he pulls his limbs back in and role on top of Zayn, heavily, commanding, one leg tight around his hips and one arm around his shoulders. He drags against Zayn in earnest, a hard wet grind into Zayn's thigh, and Zayn's breath is gone. Motion set, deep and slow, Louis leans in for a kiss.
When they wrestle, they seamlessly switch from breathless laughter to merciless intent to conquer. Between jokes worthy of any middle schooler, Zayn would slam Louis face-first to the floor and Louis would put his weight on Zayn's chest until they hear something crack (Louis does make sure they go to full intent). But it's the no-rules-of-conduct, you-can-do-anything brutality that has been moulded out of utter trust.
This time all the boys are in the room, to witness what Harry has to put up with every day.
Not every day, Louis would say and he picks at Zayn's food. And normally Zayn doesn't have a problem with sharing his food with Louis, but sometimes Louis deliberately picks Zayn's pet peeves one by one and pulls the strings that he knows Zayn would react back to. Merely because he's bored.
Niall says it's really cool to just let them do what they want, and Harry wants to say only because you don't have to put up with it everyday. After all, he's the one who has to put up with all the relocated furniture, creased rugs, broken items and the constant whining. Not Niall.
And the worst yet, he tells Niall- who wishes he hadn't said anything, is when they complain about hurting all over! If it's such a physical pain, Harry wonders, why are they still at it.
**
"What happened?" Liam cries out when Zayn slips into the room with a purpling bruise on his cheek.
"First rule of fight club, Li." Louis says, appearing behind Zayn, draping his arm over his shoulder. He presses his lips tentatively on the corner of Zayn's lips, as if they're an actual domestic couple.
"They're idiots is what happened." Harry says, walking into the kitchen, but he's smiling. He opens the fridge door and peers in, as he scratches the back of his head.
"Aw, Hazz is just jealous." Louis taunts, sips Zayn's coffee like he knows Zayn doesn't mind. Harry turns as if to prove a point by rolling his eyes, and pulls out some Orange Juice. Zayn grabs a bagel from Liam, spreads cream cheese, and takes a bite, offering the next one to Louis who eagerly sinks his teeth into it.
And maybe they look too domestic, and they fight over silly domestic things. But it's only the few moments when they're not acting the contradictory of that.
In just two minutes, Zayn's holding Louis down when he tries to reach for the rest of the bagel. "It's mine, let Liam give you another one,"
"No, I want this one." Louis would say, leg wedged between Zayn's, and really, he's having the disadvantage here because Zayn isn't as vertically challenged as he is. And it should be written in some sort of rule book that Zayn doesn't use it to his advantage.
Liam and Harry ignore them. And Niall just laughs and claps his hands, like it is in some way entertaining.
And in some way, it sort of is.
**
"If this is your first time at fight club, you have to fight."
Zayn grins all too wide, aims for menacing, but he's laughing and it just calls off the effect. His laugh is sort of ringing in Louis's ears, and the fingers digging at his wrists just don't seem to matter anymore.
Louis tackles him to the bed, they shuffle in a stupid tangle of limbs, and onset claws and teeth. Behind them, something breaks on the floor, with a crash and Louis says, "Loser pays for that!"
It's just that, Louis refuses to tap out sometimes.
All the time.
And it just so happens that they both win.
"Fuck, you're ridiculous," Zayn breathes out, they're both laying side-by-side on the bed, flushed faces and bodies warmed to sweat.
"I'm ridiculous? You're the one with the obnoxious character quirk over there. I am just looking out for you."
"Oh, shut up," Zayn rolls on his side, enjoys feeling Louis squirm under him, as he lays limply over there. Sighs once, when Louis gives into it. His breath is hot on Louis's neck.
It hits Zayn, they manage the first rule just fine.
They never talk about what it is to them, or why it is. They huddle on the sofa, eat the Chicago Pizza Harry brings home with the rest of the boys. The sofa's always just right; works fitting for all five of them. Even when Louis props his legs up and takes the entire space to his own comfort.
At nine in the afternoon, Zayn pulls off his shirt, his stupidly annoying day pants, and climbs into bed. They're just a few new bruises, but they feel alive, existing and prompting and he doesn't mind it.
Louis slips into the room when his show's over, finds Zayn tucked into bed with his face buried under the sheets. Zayn looks small and frail there and Louis laughs because Zayn can be both the two poles of the same magnet at the same time, and it's really ridiculous.
**
"I am the winner, I won that fair and square." Zayn says when they are both collapsed in a sweaty heap on the bed.
"I had the disadvantage because Niall was talking over there!" Louis says, feigning annoyance, shooting Niall a look from where he is; under Zayn.
Niall cries out exasperatedly, and pushes himself off the couch, and okay maybe it was his own fault for trusting Louis not to turn anything around the table on him. "I demand a rematch."
Zayn laughs and says, "You would," but Louis is already descending upon him, pulling him back into the war at hand.
Round two.
And then, round three.
Maybe it is an obnoxious character quirk Zayn has. Or maybe it is Louis being ridiculous and needy. But it's just theirs, and people question it, and they love not having to answer to it; because it's just theirs. And it confuses people.
It's a round four, sometimes.
They're in bed, an entire morning they've spent watching the telly, not moving a muscle. Hey, they have those days too.
Louis likes to make his own tea, and so he's in the kitchen before Zayn, takes the teapot out of the cupboard and turns on the heat. He turns to look at Zayn, and he's got a smile so big Louis can't see anything else. He steps close, takes two handfuls of Zayn's hoodie and steers him backwards, up against the counter. Leans close, murmurs, "We're not breaking anything today, courtesy of my aching body."
Zayn laughs, but he's breathless, lets himself go slack and pliant in Louis's grasp, smiling slow and relieved back up at him. "I think I can get onboard with that,"
He feels the second Louis makes the decision to lean in; Zayn's chest stops on a breath, his shoulders tense with anticipation, and then his eyes flutter closed on a soft question of a kiss. Seconds do not move, Harry doesn't walk into the kitchen, the sound of the teapot doesn't go off; nothing else happens when Louis's lips brush over his, light enough to be a good morning, serious enough to be a promise. Zayn feels it when Louis's thumb touches adoringly beneath his lower lip, underlining the gesture.
Zayn blinks for a long time when Louis pulls back, soft smile, pure happiness.
He's too eager to let Louis get away now, tugs him closer just to kiss him, and kiss the hell out of him.
They have two types of a day.