“I’m going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else.“
“I’m going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else.”
Harry waggles his eyebrows and wiggles his hips all in one move.
“You look ridiculous,” Zayn says and folds his arms over his chest. “Stop wriggling and put some clothes on.”
“Zaaaayn,” Harry whines. He flops forward onto the bed and props his chin in his hands. “Stop frowning.”
Zayn sighs. He can see the pale globes of Harry’s bum and it’s doing nothing to help the situation. “You’re being very unhelpful right now.”
“Well, you’re being boring. It’s a Saturday, Zayn. Stop fussing and get back here.” Harry pats the bed and kicks his feet up and crosses his ankles. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he purrs.
Zayn can’t help the fond smile that tugs at his mouth. Mornings in their household are usually rushed and chaotic: shoving burnt slices of toast into their mouths; taking turns in the shower; rushing out of the door without so much as a second to say goodbye.
Harry’s right; it is a Saturday. The curtains are closed but let in a warm glow through the thin material, and the house is still quiet. For how long, Zayn can’t be sure.