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"What do you think of these, Bells?" Harry holds up a pair of canary yellow house slippers to Bella, which are shaped like ducks with bright orange beaks at the tips. Bella giggles happily and bounces on Harry's hip.
"For me?" Bella claps her hands and grins up at Harry and he feels his heart melting into mush. Which shouldn't be possible considering that he's been spending practically every waking moment with her for more than six months now, but then again, he did become a nanny for a reason.
"All for you!" Harry exclaims, tossing the slippers into the cart that's piled with an increasingly large amount of tiny clothing items.
"I love shopping with Hazza," Bella decides, and buries her head into the side of Harry's neck. He sways a little side to side and rubs a hand up and down her back; it's close to her naptime and he figures they'd better get going. He pushes the cart one-handed down the aisle, pausing at the accessories section briefly. And really, how is he not supposed to grab a pair of miniature pink sunglasses with little bows at the edges? It would just be inhuman.
After checking out, he straps the half-asleep toddler into her carseat and muscles all of his shopping bags into the trunk. He hopes Zayn isn't home early from work today, because he wants to put away his possibly slightly excessive amount of purchases before Zayn can see them all. Even though Harry contends that all of the items were completely necessary. Bella wouldn't be running around in too-small holey trousers on his watch.
"Alright, come on sweetheart, naptime," Harry coos softly when they arrive home, and Bella sleepily raises her arms for him to lift her out of the car seat.
"Want you to carry," she mumbles and Harry scoops her up, tucking a stray dark lock of hair behind her ear. He hums a little to her as he unlocks the door and walks her upstairs, and by the time he finally tucks her in between her purple and pink butterfly sheets, she's dead asleep.
"Just like your dad," Harry chuckles, pulling her comforter up over her tiny shoulders and admiring how much she looks like Zayn with her thick eyelashes resting against her cheeks.
He cracks the door and makes his way back downstairs, thinking about how he wants to organize the new outfits in her closet so she’ll notice them but Zayn possibly won’t, when he runs smack into Zayn.
It's not the first time it's happened and it definitely won't be last; Zayn's hand instinctively goes to Harry's waist and grasps firmly until he regains his balance.
"Hi," Harry grins and presses his lips to Zayn's.
"Hey, you," Zayn shakes his head. "Still the same klutz I left this morning, then?"
"'S what you signed up for," Harry feels himself beaming and Zayn rolls eyes a little.
"Think you left your car unlocked by the way babe, the lights were on," Zayn says, giving his bum a quick slap and heading to the kitchen.
Harry's cheeks burn hot. "Oh yeah, Bella and I just got back from the shops and I have to bring in the bags," he mutters.
He hears a bottle being uncorked in the kitchen. "Well hurry up, yeah? Want a glass?" Zayn calls.
"Sure, yeah," Harry says and hurries out the door. Maybe if he just slips upstairs while Zayn's still in the kitchen...
"What the hell is all that?" Zayn frowns the minute Harry lugs his bags in the door.
"Shopping, I told you?"
"Yeah, last time I checked I only had one daughter, Haz."
"Bella needs clothes!"
"Jesus are those duck slippers?"
Harry stuffs the offending shoes back into the bag hastily. "Well, do you want her feet to freeze and her to catch pneumonia Zayn?" he huffs.
Zayn sighs exasperatedly. "Don't take them upstairs, you'll wake her up. Just leave 'em here, babe. How much did you spend?"
"It's a gift," Harry defends, and heaves the bags onto the floor of the living room. Zayn sits down on the couch and sifts through one of them. He pulls out a tiny dress that's patterned with bright red strawberries, matching headband and all.
"She needs dresses?" Harry tries and Zayn just sighs again. He pulls out a pink shirt that has a big batman logo on the front, and a smile twists the corners of Zayn's lips.
"Well. This is quite cute," Zayn says softly, turning the shirt over in his hands.
"Knew you'd like it. Anything to do with superheroes," Harry laughs, and slides onto the couch next to him, cuddling into Zayn's side. "So you're not mad at me?"
"'Course I'm not. Just don't want you to go broke."
"'s not that expensive."
Zayn raises an eyebrow. "I did dress her for a good three years before you got here. I do know how much," he pulls something out of the bag, "A ruffly pink bonnet costs, really Harry?"
"I know!" Harry pouts. He does. He likes to pretend, sometimes, that those years didn't exist--that he was the one looking in at the nursery pointing at newborn Bella with Zayn, that he was there for her first steps, her first words—but he knows he wasn't. Knows that Zayn can handle things without him. "But she needed it, Zayn, look how cute!"
"I know exactly how much you make."
"And I'm fine, promise." It's Harry's turn to roll his eyes, and he edges closer to Zayn. Bella's asleep for a good hour; they don't often get middle of the day interludes.
"You better be." But Zayn's voice is playful, rather than chiding, and he twists a little so he's facing Harry. "Can't have you wasting away on me."
"Why Zayn! Would you not like me if I lost weight?" Harry teases, and Zayn grins, draws a hand down Harry's chest.
"Not at all. I only love you for your muscles," he retorts, and goes on to show Harry just how much he loves those muscles.
---
Later that night, though, Harry stares up at the ceiling as Zayn's slow breaths fill up the room. He doesn't even know why he can't sleep, but after a good hour, he gives up the ghost and rolls out of bed, snatching his computer off the nightstand where he had put it to get some writing done before bed before he stumbles downstairs to the living room. It's not like he couldn't have stayed upstairs—Zayn sleeps like the dead—but he'd never be able to get anything done with the temptation of Zayn next to him, shirtless with his hair messy from sleep and Harry's hands.
He sits down on the couch, opens his computer on the coffee table, and pulls open his bank account. It's been nagging at him, since Zayn mentioned it--he doesn't want to get his card rejected when he’s out with Bella, and he hasn’t checked in a while. Then he stares at the screen, because the number there is higher than usual.
It's not that Harry's bad with money, but he's not exactly good with it. He has a habit of binging on expensive things every once in a while, or getting pricey organic food or spending more money than he ought when he's out. He's never really been in debt, but he doesn't have any of those IRAs or anything that Zayn talks about sometimes and makes Harry feel very, very young. He usually breaks about even. So the number on his screen is—surprising.
He sucks a little on the tip of his pen while he considers the figure. How could he possibly still have that much money? He isn’t dumb, he knows he spent a fair sum of money on Bella today, and it was the second time he'd taken her shopping this month. He definitely didn't have that much money left over the first few months he started working for Zayn, in fact he remembers having to keep pretty close track of everything back then just to make sure his credit card bill was payable.
He grabs a nearby pad of post-its and starts scribbling. They're his food expenses, which, well he doesn't really buy much food any more. He eats all of his meals at Zayn's now. He hadn't made a decision to, but it just makes more sense for him to come over early enough for to make breakfast for Bella and Zayn before he heads to work, and of course he has lunch here too. Having dinner together is pretty much expected now as well, and as much as he offers, Zayn refuses to let Harry chip in at all for the groceries, so there's that.
Gas, well he hasn't really been spending much on that lately either, as he's spending more nights at Zayn's than at his own flat so he hardly ever has to make the commute any more. And then there's the fact that Zayn prefers him to drive Bella in Zayn's SUV when Harry takes her out, and Zayn always fills up the tank on that car, so Harry doesn't really spend much on their outings either.
Rent, Harry remembers. Yes, he does spend money on rent. But even that’s less than it used to be since his utilities and water use had gone down to almost zero. And then there's the fact that Harry's practically considering subletting because the spiders are probably more at home then him there at this point.
"I think I live here," Harry muses to himself quietly.
He pauses, then. "I think I should live here," he says, and shuts his computer.
---
He can't just move in, of course. That would be rude. And also basically what he has done already—he's got his drawers in Zayn's wardrobe, his toothbrush in the bathroom, his books on the shelves—so he can't really go farther in that direction. But just asking feels wrong too, because—well, because. Because Zayn's always so cautious, so protective of his space, so wary of who comes into his house, and he can't just intrude. He knows Zayn loves him, but he also knows that Zayn likes his space to be his own. He doesn't want to push into it, because he's pushed into enough already.
But he also does want in. So he tries, for once, to be subtle.
"So I was thinking," he says the next night, after they've had leftovers for dinner and are curled up together on the couch, Zayn's feet tucked under Harry's thigh as he rests a sketchpad on his knees; Harry looking at the computer on his lap. "Bella and I took a trip back to my apartment today."
"Oh?" Zayn hums. His eyes are flicking up and down from the sketchbook to Harry's face, and it's not fair when he does that, really. How's Harry supposed to concentrate when his eyelashes are so eyelashy?
"Yeah. Wanted to make sure no animals or anything had gotten in."
Zayn's lips press together quizzically. "What animals would have gotten in here? Raccoons?"
"Animals," Harry says, firmly. He hadn't thought that far ahead. Just, animals. "All sort of animals."
"Animals," Zayn repeats distantly, flipping his pencil over to erase at corner of the paper. "No, don't move babe that's the perfect angle."
Harry was never very good at sitting still but he tries to keep his head steady. "Yeah my landlord has to do a walkthrough once a week since I'm not there enough. Make sure nothing's festering."
"That's nice of him," Zayn hums, wriggling his toes a little deeper under Harry's knees, eyes still glued to his sketchpad.
Harry huffs out a frustrated sigh and shuts his laptop, leaning back against the couch. Zayn peeks up at him with his ridiculously beautiful eyes. "Everything alright?"
"Want you to stop drawing and cuddle," Harry mumbles, because I want to move in with you and wake up with you everyday and never leave seems a little inappropriate.
Zayn laughs but settles his sketchpad on the coffee table and scoots over to Harry, wrapping his arms around his waist and nuzzling his head into the crook of Harry's shoulder. "Better?" he murmurs, breath warm on Harry's collarbone through his t-shirt.
"Much," Harry agrees, circling Zayn with his arms.
----
The next morning, Harry tries again. It might not be the best planned timing ever, because telling Zayn anything before his second cup of coffee is an exercise in futility, but maybe Harry can do some inception stuff. So he calls over his shoulder as he paws through their closet, to where Zayn is playing with Bella on the bed, "Have you seen my green button down?"
"I burned it," Zayn replies easily, and Harry chokes and turns. Zayn's grinning at him, his wide, eyes-crinkling grin, and Bella's echoing it even though she presumably doesn't know why.
"Zayn!" Harry whines, and Zayn giggles into his hand. "You didn't!'
"No," he agrees, "I didn't. But I should, Harry, it's atrocious."
"It looks very nice on me," Harry replies primly, and turns back to the closet. "Have you seen it, though?"
"No. Thank God. How do you have such good taste with Bella and then wear that sort of stuff?"
"Because not all of us could make burlap look attractive." Harry swallows, peers at the closet they've more or less divided between them, Zayn's dark suits and his jeans side by side. "It must be at my apartment." He pauses, then adds, "That's inconvenient."
"Need a ride over there?" Zayn asks, instead of doing the proper thing, which is immediately understanding and coming over and hugging Harry and telling him that he should just bring everything over here.
"No," Harry sulks and flops down on the bed next to Bella. He pulls her onto his chest so that she's giggling down at him and he wriggles around a bit so that she screams and almost tumbles off until he grabs her at the last minute. He bends his knees and balances Bella on his shins while holding her hands, and she giggles again. "Look how tall you are, Bells!" Harry exclaims.
"What are you even doing?" Zayn grumbles, and Harry cranes his head up to see him staring over at him with that familiar look that's a cross between exasperated and fond.
"Airplane, obviously," Harry grins, and moves his knees to the sides while holding Bella's arms out and making whoosing noises.
"Look daddy I'm flying!" Bella exclaims, waving her arms around while Harry continues to make faux airplane noises under her, and Zayn's face breaks into a huge smile even despite his current decaffeinated state.
"Look at you Bells," Zayn agrees and presses a huge kiss to the side of her cheek before scooping her up into his arms. "Time to get dressed, baby."
"No wait Zayn, can I? There's this dress I have to try on her" Harry scrambles up and off the bed after them. Zayn turns and raises an eyebrow, tracing his eyes over Harry's still-bare chest.
"Think someone has some dressing of their own to do," Zayn teases, and Harry feels a tiny shiver run down his spine just at the way Zayn's raking his eyes over him.
"Fine," Harry pouts. "Just make sure you put her in the yellow dress with the daisies. I put out some matching shoes and there's a little white cardigan that goes with it. Gotta look pretty for the tea party we're having later, don't we Bells?"
"...you're having a tea party?" Zayn shakes his head. "Who are you?"
"Your lovely live-in nanny slash houseboy," Harry dimples.
"Absolutely ridiculous," Zayn huffs, but Harry doesn't miss the twinkle in his eyes before he turns and walks Bella to her room.
He also doesn't miss the fact that Zayn hadn't said anything about the 'live-in' part.
Harry pulls on one of Zayn's sweaters instead--or actually, he thinks it's one of his that Zayn stole, but it's in Zayn's half of the closet--and heads downstairs to start breakfast. He can do it without even thinking by now, even more than when he just got here early every day; coffee on for Zayn, start boiling water for his tea, pull out the ridiculous sugary cereal Zayn insists it's okay to give Bella even though Harry keeps on trying to sneak the organic, healthy stuff into their grocery cart, get the milk out and two bowls because no matter how much he protests he's going to have come some too. Zayn doesn't eat breakfast, so he doesn't get a bowl; if he's hungry he'll steal something from Harry's, or let Bella feed him.
He knows all that. He's made that every morning this week, except for Sunday when Zayn let him sleep for once and made them all pancakes. Zayn knows he's going to do this, because it's what he does. Like he's not going to blink twice when he sees Harry wearing his sweater, or that he's not going to go home. Or that he's already home, if Zayn would just ask him.
Harry sighs, and mournfully pours himself a mug of tea. It's starting to feel a bit too much like those days Before, when he was just looking at Zayn and wishing he would look back. Now he is looking back, and Harry knows he loves him, he does, but—he's not seeing. Or something.
"Is this tea party acceptable?" Zayn asks, and Harry looks up from his tea to see the two of them walk in, and he can't help but smile.
Bella is color coordinated from head to toe, starting with a thick yellow headband nestled in her hair that has a huge daisy applique on the right side, to her fluffy sundress also covered in flowers and with a matching cardigan, ending with little yellow mary-janes that are buckled onto her feet.
Harry whips out his phone instinctively and is snapping pictures before Zayn has time to protest. Zayn's got his dark work suit on and the contrast with Bella's tea party outfit is just too adorable for Harry to not capture.
"Don't you look beautiful!" coos Harry, coming over to adjust Bella's slightly lopsided headband, and she grins toothily at him.
"Daddy says we have to save 'im a mimliture sandwich"
"Mimliture?"
"Miniature," Zayn clarifies, settling Bella down into her chair. He stares down at her a moment with a smile quirking his mouth, and then turns to Harry. "You realize this outfit is going to be ruined by midday, right?"
"Good thing I bought three new play outfits yesterday for her to change into!" Harry presses a steaming mug of coffee into Zayn's hand and Zayn groans in return.
"Christ, you really are going to go broke."
"Don't you worry about it. Now sit and drink your coffee while Bella and I get our nutrients. What do we always have, Bells?"
"Three square meals!" Bella chirps, holding out three stubby fingers.
"Exactly!" Harry gives her an enthusiastic but gentle high-five, placing a bowl of lucky-charms on the table with her favorite Mickey-Mouse spoon sticking out of it. "Someone could learn from us," Harry says, tossing a pointed look at Zayn's coffee cup.
Zayn just shrugs and tugs his cup closer, taking a long sip. Bella starts chattering about how she wants to ride the see-saw at the park, and Harry's too distracted trying to food into her stomach to have any sort of real conversation with Zayn. Which is fine, Harry knows he prefers quiet morning anyways, a chance to wake up fully before he has to make the drive to work.
It isn't until Harry's rinsing the bowls out at the sink that he thinks about trying again. "Hey Zayn?" he calls over his shoulder. "I think we should get a set of wineglasses. You know, for next time we have our friends over?" He tries to place a heavy emphasis on the 'our'.
Zayn makes a sort of noncommittal noise from the foyer. "Whatever you think is best, babe. Maybe get some new plates while you're at it."
Harry considers breaking the bowls in the sink so that Zayn will rush over endlessly concerned and insist that Harry move in instantaneously so that he can take care of him. Or something.
"Ok," he answers back instead, shutting off the water and walking over to where Zayn's shrugging on his coat.
Zayn bends down to pick up Bella who's already reaching her arms out and making that sad-daddy's-leaving face that always makes Harry's heart a little tighter. "You gonna have fun today on your tea party Bells? Be good for Hazza?"
"Yes daddy," Bella nods seriously with huge eyes and Zayn knocks his nose against hers.
"Good." Zayn blows a raspberry against her cheek and drops her down to the floor. "Are you going to have fun at your tea party?" he grins at Harry.
"The most," Harry replies and leans down to kiss Zayn firmly. "Have a good day at work okay?"
"See you two later," Zayn pecks him one more time and then disappears out the door.
---
When Zayn gets back, Harry and Bella have set up a plate of mini-sandwiches (peanut butter and jelly cut into triangles, because Bella won't eat anything else) and a mug of tea on the table. It's pretty adorable, if Harry says so himself, and it gets even better when Zayn stops in the doorway and just looks at them in that way he has, like there's nothing he could improve about this moment. Except then Bella yells, "Daddy!" and nearly oversets the table as she flings herself at him, and Zayn scoops her up and hugs her tight.
Harry can't help himself. He flings himself at them too, also nearly oversetting the table, and sandwiches Bella in between them as he wraps his arms around both of his favorite people in the world and holds on tight.
He only lets go when he feels Bella starts to fidget. He steps back and Zayn lets Bella down, then looks over at the table. "Did you make me tea?"
"Harry said it was fair, 'cuz you missed the tea party," Bella explains, and drags Zayn over to the table to sit down.
It's one of those lovely, horrible moments Harry has sometimes, where he wants so badly it hurts—the two Maliks sitting at the table, Bella's hands waving as she explains the mechanics of the tea party, Zayn leaning forward and listening very seriously. Harry thinks he could be happy if this moment froze forever, if he could live in it forever.
But he can't. He can go over there, could slide in next to Zayn and steal sips of his tea or bites of his sandwich, could help interpret Bella's ramblings and tell him about their day, but at the end of it—or, eventually, at least—he'll have to leave. Zayn clearly doesn't want him here forever.
He sighs, and turns towards the stove to start warming up the leftover chicken parm that he'd planned for dinner. He knows Zayn loves him, knows he wants him. He trusts Zayn enough that he doesn't think he's lying about that for, like, help around the house. But still. If Zayn really wanted him, really loved him, really was thinking about things like long term and forever, he'd pick up on Harry's hints, wouldn't he?
"Haz?" Bella's pulling on his leg, so he looks down. As usual, he can't help but smile at her. "Daddy said you were looking sad so I should make you happy."
"Oh really?" Harry glances over her head to Zayn, who's giving him a look somewhere between concerned and fond. Because of course he knows Harry well enough to pick up on his moods, just not his hints. "And how do you plan to do that?"
"We should have chocolate," she announces, and Harry grins as Zayn snorts out a laugh.
"Well?" Harry asks, with a wink at Zayn, "Can we have chocolate?"
"After dinner," Zayn decides. Then he glances up at Harry through his lashes, and it's like getting hit with two-sets of irresistible matching puppy dog eyes. "Could we make cookies?"
"You mean could I make you cookies?"
"We could help!" Bella bounces on the heels of her feet, then runs back to Zayn and climbs onto his lap. "We'll be the best helpers ever!"
"Yeah, Harry. The best ever," Zayn agrees. His arms go around Bella's waist and squeezes, holding her tight, and it almost hurts again. That he could stay and make cookies and fall into bed with Zayn and wake up and make them breakfast and cuddle them both, but that they could do it together too, that he slots out of their life in a way he can't slot them out of his.
"I was thinking about staying at mine tonight," he says instead, slowly. "Haven't been there in a while."
Tell me to stay tell me to stay, he tries to tell Zayn, but instead Zayn's face freezes, and then he nods. "Fair enough," he agrees, and looks down into Bella's hair. "Think we can muddle through cookies on our own, baby?"
"No, I want Harry's," Bella pouts. Zayn holds her closer.
"Bells, what do we--"
"I want Harry's!" she yells this time, and yanks herself away from Zayn.
Zayn runs a hand through his hair. He looks tired as he sighs and shrugs at Harry. "Sorry, if you want to go, I can finish dinner."
Harry's eyes narrow. Now he's getting kicked out. Great. "Well I'm glad someone wants me here," he snaps, and throws the spatula on the counter as he storms out after Bella.
Bella's thrown herself face-down on the couch dramatically, and Harry kind of wants to do the same. Instead he settles down next to her and pats her head. "Don't be sad, lovebug," Harry says, and then starts walking his fingers up her back. "Or else the spiders will get you."
She squeals and rolls over, eyes bright when she looks up at Harry. "Not the spiders, they tickle!"
Harry ruffles the top of her hair. "Then no pouting, Bells."
She nods slowly and then clambers onto Harry's lap. He focuses on straightening out the wrinkles on her dress, not wanting to look up to see where Zayn is. Probably still in the kitchen, eating the meal Harry made him on the plates Harry bought, and getting ready to kick Harry out to his own apartment.
"Hazza?" Bella asks and pulls on one of Harry's loose curls because she loves watching it spring back. "Why do you have to leave? Why can't you stay forever?"
Harry sighs and bounces her on his lap. "It's complicated, bug. Now do you want to finish Beauty and the Beast while Daddy and I clean up?"
She curls up on the sofa and Harry puts on the movie for her, walking over to the kitchen and pausing. Zayn's sitting at the table with his head in his hands, and his hair's sticking up like he's been running his fingers through it. Harry wants to wrap himself around him but he also feels like crying, so he slumps over to the sink instead.
"I'm not talking to you," Harry announces into the silence, and okay, he never promised to be mature all the time. He spends his days having tea parties with stuffed animals, after all.
"Can you tell me why?" Zayn asks into the table. Harry hears him moving, and when he talks again he's less muffled, like he picked his head up. Harry thinks he can feel Zayn's gaze in his back. "I'd like to know why you're in a strop, at least."
"I'm not in a strop," Harry snaps back, even if he is. He doesn't need Zayn talking about him like he's Bella.
"Then what's wrong?" The chair scrapes back; Zayn's standing up. Harry waits for him to come over, to lean against Harry's back to cuddle him into a good mood—which works more than Harry'd like to admit, or at least he would if the strategy didn't work even better on Zayn. But he doesn't. "You've been in a mood for days. What happened?"
"Nothing," Harry mutters. At least Zayn noticed. "I'm just going to go home. To my apartment. Which isn't here."
"And I told you, that's fine." There's that sigh again. Harry resists the urge to turn around and look at him, because he knows Zayn looking strung out and tired and vulnerable is his kryptonite. "'m not trapping you here, Haz. If you need your space, you're always welcome to go."
"Fine then!" Harry does spin at that, his hands on his hips. Zayn draws back a little, surprised by the vehemence of it. "I will go, if you don't want me here. Tell Bella I'll see her tomorrow."
"Fine," Zayn snaps back. Then he closes his eyes for a second, and visibly reins in his temper. "Have a good night."
"I will." Harry grabs his bag from the counter and storms into the hall, shrugging on his coat. He gets a little tangled in it in his anger, which ruins his dramatic exit enough for Zayn to follow him out into the hall. He waits for Harry to struggle his way into his coat and open the door before he says, so quietly Harry almost doesn't hear it,
"Love you, Harry."
And that—Harry lets the door slam closed with him on the inside as he whirls back. "Then why don't you want me to move in with you?"
Zayn gapes at him, mouth actually dropping open a few centimeters. "What?"
"Yeah, I know! I'm ridiculous and have too much stuff and you don't want me here 24/7 whatever, I just don't understand why, Zayn!" Harry cries, pressing the heels of his palms to eyes and exhaling sharply. He's not going to cry, dammit. It just feels like everything he's been thinking and wanting for the last few weeks is spilling out and it's a little overwhelming.
He takes a steadying breath and looks up at Zayn. He's still rooted on the spot, staring at Harry.
"Well aren't you going to say anything?" Harry presses, flinging his arms out to the sides wildly. He probably looks crazy. He feels a bit crazy.
"Yeah. 'course, yeah. But—you want to move in?" Zayn says slowly, like he's never heard those words before.
"Yes, Zayn! Like I've been trying to tell you for the last month? I want to move in and wake up next to you every morning and get rid of my crappy apartment and have a drawer for my headscarves and bake cookies with Bella while you eat all the batter!" Harry exclaims desperately.
Zayn keeps staring at him, and Harry could swear to god Zayn's starting to smile. He's going to kill him. Somehow Harry's going to—"You want a drawer for you headscarves?" Zayn says, and he's definitely grinning now.
"That's what you got out of all that?" Harry throws his hands up again. He feels like he’s in a Spanish soap opera.
"Sorry babe, I'm just trying to process." Zayn walks forward and puts his hands on Harry's shoulders, and just at that, Harry can feel a bit of his anger draining. "Breathe, yeah?"
Harry blows out a breath. "You make me crazy sometimes, Zayn."
"Nah I think you already were," Zayn kisses the tip of his nose. "Why didn't you tell me you want to move in? Of course you can. I've been wanting you to for months."
Now it's Harry's turn to gape. "What? Why didn't you say anything?"
And it's Zayn's turn to look uncomfortable. "I didn't—we're a lot, the two of us. And you've been so insistent about not blurring the lines, I didn't want to push."
"Push." Harry echoes his words by stepping into Zayn's space, his hands sliding over to rest on Zayn's hips so he can pull them close together. "Please, push as much as you want, there's literally nothing you can say that I won't be okay with, I promise."
"Even if I asked you to hide the body?"
"I'll go get the concrete," Harry swears, even if he's a little afraid that's too true to be healthy. When Zayn just grins, he tugs Zayn even closer with a whined, "Zaaaayn."
"What?"
"Ask me to move in with you."
"You're so needy," Zayn teases, and Harry bites at his ear in punishment. "Fine. Harry Styles, would you move in with me and Bella?"
"Only if I get a drawer for my headscarves." Harry retorts. Then, more seriously, because this is something he needs to say, "And I pay rent and help with groceries and stuff, Zayn."
"It's not anything other than what I'm paying for now--"
"Zayn," Harry repeats, and kisses him to shut him up.
"Mm," Zayn hums against his lips. "Okay. Only as long as you promise to keep kissing me like that."
Harry presses his lips so hard against Zayn he's sure they'll be swollen and red the rest of the night. "Not a problem," he murmurs.
Zayn pulls back after a minute and taps Harry on the bum. "There are children around," he smirks at Harry, who sticks his lip out mournfully.
"Bella!" Zayn calls into the living room. "Come into the kitchen, looks like Harry's making cookies after all."
Cookies it is, Harry thinks. He wonders if it’d be too cheesy to cut them into pieces that look like houses, and decides that no, it’s just cheesy enough.