“’s only five years, don’t know what you’re freaking out about.” Zayn shrugs, then pats Liam’s cheek when Liam keeps frowning. “I’ll be plenty mature, promise.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about.” It isn’t. Zayn’s not a kid, and he’s mature, and Liam doesn’t even think about the fact that Zayn’s barely twenty-two and he’s twenty-seven. But he worries his mum will, and fuck, he wants her to like Zayn. To love him, even, because Liam’s heading quickly in that direction.
“It’ll be okay, babe.” Suddenly, Liam’s got a lap full of Zayn, and Zayn’s hands cupping his cheeks, forcing him to look up at him. Liam’s hands are on his hips, steadying him like he always does. “If she’s only worried about the age difference and not, like, my race or religion or tattoos, I’ll be happy.”
“She’s not like that!” Liam protests, and Zayn smiles fondly down at him.
“Then remember that. She’ll know we’re good together, ‘cause we are.” Zayn leans in to kiss him, soft and long and slow, and Liam pushes back into it, losing himself as always in the feel of Zayn.
“Now,” Zayn murmurs, his lips a breath from Liam’s, “We’ve got a few hours before she comes. Take me to bed, yeah? Let me show you what younger boyfriends are good for.”
Liam laughs, and keeps his arms around Zayn as he stands him up, pulling him close to kiss him again. His mum better love this boy, he thinks, because he knows he never had a chance.
Send me a pairing and an au/premise and I’ll write you a three sentence fic of it!