This has been sitting on my computer since last Christmas, so it's probably high time to be done with it. In which Wand Erection One Direction is a girlband, because genderswap & always-a-girl are my favouritest in the entire universe.
(hope you find) your place in this world
one direction - gen; (always-a-girl!fic)
fake fake fake.
non-chronological, slice of life snippets about ridiculous girls being bffl.
this is a lovely gordie sampson song that sort of got this story going.
-
(hope you find) your place in this world
Four things they all know
i.
It kind of boggles the mind that Niall can remember all of their birthdays without hesitation, and moreover, that she also knows all the birthdays of the members of Boyzone and Westlife, including Brian McFadden’s (“April 12, 1980,” she says smugly. “Now ask me something’s that’s actually hard.”), but can’t recall where she’s left her cell phone or hair brush at any given moment.
It’s jarring maybe the first couple of times, but after that, it’s really not that weird or uncommon to find Niall’s mascara in the vegetable crisper, her favourite hat in the wash with everyone else’s jeans, or her guitar picks in the utensil drawer. So when Niall’s going on a massive house-wide hunt for her lucky knee socks, Zayn’s not at all surprised to see them wedged behind the couch cushions.
“Hey,” Zayn says, taking the aforementioned articles of clothing to where Niall’s tearing apart her own room and Harry’s lying on the bed watching with generally unhelpful amusement. “Found ‘em. Why were they in the couch?”
“Thanks!” Niall says gratefully, taking them from Zayn. She’s wearing only one sneaker and it’s apparent that she likely has no idea where the other shoe is. “Uh. I don’t know, actually. But thanks though!”
Harry bursts into laughter. “You have no idea where you left your socks, but you can tell me exactly when Ronan Keating was born?”
Niall just stares at her like Harry’s lost her mind. “Are you kidding me? These are just socks. He’s a cultural icon!” she says earnestly.
Zayn stifles a laugh as Harry pulls both of them down onto Niall’s bed into an octopus-like hug, and decides that Niall, in all her earnest, indignant, one-shoed glory, maybe has a point.
-
ii.
Harry comes out to the girls on a Wednesday afternoon. They're just about to eat lunch - Louis' snagging chips from Zayn's plate when she thinks Zayn's not looking and Liam's smiling indulgently as Niall tells her about the crazy dream she had last night - when Harry suddenly blurts out, "I'm gay."
And it’s not like brand new information or anything: she’s pretty sure Niall’s totally seen her kissing other girls before, but still. Harry’s not sure how her band mates are going to react: Louis has been dating the same boy since practically forever, and Zayn’s got at least three guys wrapped around her little finger at any given moment and Niall’s still (still!) got that weird all-consuming crush on Justin Bieber. And as for Liam, well, who knows, but how flustered she gets every time they’re within ten metres JLS has got to be a sign of something.
The other girls just sort of stare at each other, and then all turn to look at Harry. Finally, it’s Zayn who speaks up: “Oh. Um. This is a huge surprise,” she says, but it almost sounds like a question.
Liam nods supportively, draping an arm around Harry’s shoulder. “Yeah. We had no idea.”
Dumbfounded, Harry attempts to process their reactions and stares back at both of them. “Hold on: you knew?”
Louis just gives her a big, cheesy wink. “So Hazza, how many girls have you bedded?”
“Uh,” Harry says articulately, still reeling from how shockingly easy this seems to be. “Wait, what? No, Louis, a lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”
“No, really,” Louis plows right on, leaning into Harry’s personal space and grinning, practically draped over her lap. “How many? Don’t hold out! I may never get a chance to have sex with a woman! Don’t be selfish! I need to know these things!”
Harry shoves at Louis, though not hard enough to actually move her. “Six,” she finally says, just to shut Louis up.
“Wow,” Zayn’s eyes widen, impressed. “Really?”
Louis’ grin grows impossibly big, nodding her approval: “Curly, you saucy minx!”
“Lesbians are amazing!” Niall interjects suddenly, looking thrilled and apparently unable to contain her excitement any longer.
“Yes they are,” Liam agrees, ruffling Harry’s curls. “And Harry’s my favourite lesbian of all.”
Harry raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow at her band mate. “What does that even mean?”
“It means,” Louis says loudly, stuffing another one of Zayn’s chips into her mouth and talking around the food. “That you need to tell us everything immediately about your big gay adventures.
The rest of them nod seriously and lean eagerly towards Harry, anticipation shining in their eyes.
Harry sighs. She supposes it could have gone a lot worse.
-
iii.
Zayn’s beauty has never really been a secret: she carries herself with a sense of self-awareness that makes the others know, just know, that if this were another life where Simon Cowell had never pushed the five of them together into the deep end and told them to make it out alive, there would have been no reason for her to give any of them the time of day.
But the universe works in mysterious ways sometimes, and beneath the bluster, push-up bras and hair products, Zayn’s really quite sweet: she doesn’t actually mind when Niall needs her help to pick outfits for talk show appearances and genuinely does find the Harry-and-Louis-show hilarious, pressing her face against Liam's neck to hide a fond smile.
-
iv.
In the beginning, it’s not like they’ve got all that much in common and every little revelation of similarity and mutuality feels like a cause for celebration. So when Louis discovers that Liam also harbours an indelible love for superhero films, she pounces on this almost immediately with an enthusiasm matched only by Liam’s similarly extensive knowledge of the genre.
It takes exactly half of one film for the others to realize the magnitude of hardcore appreciation that Louis and Liam possess for the films, and beg off to avoid the increasing amounts of geekery in the air.
“Superman’s the best,” says Liam, continuing the conversation they had started at breakfast that morning. “Superman’s always the best.”
Louis scoffs, shaking her head wildly. “You’re dreaming! The answer is Batman, you fool! The answer is never not Batman!”
They compromise by watching three Spiderman films in one night ("The first two of the trilogy, and then the reboot," Louis insists. "The third one was quite shit: even James Franco couldn't save it. Plus, the new Spiderman is really fit."), a sprawl of entangled limbs on the living room floor, with half finished bowls of popcorn and candy.
And if they wake up in that same position in the morning, the film's DVD menu still humming in the background, Niall and Harry and Zayn aren’t going to give them (much) of a hard time about it.
---
Three times it wasn't easy
i.
It’s not the first time Harry’s lost her voice, and it won’t be the last, but that doesn’t make it suck any less. It’s a gradual thing: first, she loses her higher register so that she and Zayn have to switch parts for the next week. She goes on vocal rest and guzzles litres of lemon and honey in hopes for a miracle cure, but much to her chagrin, it doesn’t really help things much and ultimately cumulates in completely losing her voice anyway.
“‘sok, Hazza,” Louis says, giving her a quick one-armed hug. “At least you still got a pretty face.”
Harry makes a rude gesture and scuffs her shoe in the dirt a little, cursing the universe and everything else for her sudden grave misfortune.
“Say,” Niall offers with a grin. “If you don’t get your voice back, we can always replace you with Cher Lloyd. Would you like that?”
Without missing a beat, Harry just glares at her and kicks her hard enough in the shin to bruise.
-
They give Harry a notebook with a pixelated puppy on the front to communicate with, which is slightly hilarious for the first couple days but quickly loses its novelty.
Day four of not having a voice finds Harry bored and annoyed, watching back episodes of Hollyoaks with the girls. Finally, she turns to shove at the nearest warm body to her.
“What?” Zayn turns to look at her. “What’s wrong?”
I’M BORED, Harry scrawls messily, all in capital letters, and flashes the note at Zayn.
“Oh. Tough shit,” Zayn says, but she’s smiling and reaches over to squeeze Harry’s hand.
Harry sticks her tongue out, ripping out the note and throws the crumpled up ball at Zayn’s head.
“What would make you feel better?” Liam says, demonstrating a little more sympathy.
Immediately, Harry scribbles down: MY VOICE BACK.
Niall reads the note aloud over her shoulder. “Okay, yeah, but we’re not, like, wizards. What would actually make you feel better?”
Harry seems to think about this for a moment. Finally, she scribbles down BREAST IMPLANTS, before handing the notepad over to Niall, who bursts into laughter.
“Really?” she finally manages between giggles.
LOUIS WITH BREAST IMPLANTS, Harry amends her last note and shoots Louis a winning grin.
“Hey!” says Louis. She takes a contemplative moment to look down at her own chest. “Oh wait. That would be kind of amazing, actually. Carry on.”
-
It happens like this: after the second last show on the tour, they’re all buzzing with adrenaline as they collapse into a sweaty pile on the couch in the van. Then, from the bottom of the pile, Louis suddenly busts out with What’s brown and sticky? and blurts out the answer without waiting (“A brown stick!”) and Harry laughs.
It’s a hoarse, gravely sound, but Louis thinks it’s one of the loveliest things she’s heard all week, and tells Harry so with a sloppy, delighted kiss to her cheek.
-
ii.
It goes almost unnoticed at first, how Liam’s quieter these days: she’s not around when they pile up in front of the TV to watch Matt performing on Strictly Come Dancing, or when they’re all bickering over Uncle Simon’s new show. She stops giving her input during group meetings; doesn't even complain when Zayn stretches her favourite jumper in the wash.
It’s Niall, finally, who makes her way up the stairs with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich - peanut butter and jelly solves everything, this much Niall knows is true - and knocks uncertainly at Liam’s door, inviting herself in. “Hi,” she says, before throwing herself down on the bed next to Liam.
Liam smiles and moves her laptop to the ground, giving Niall her undivided attention. “Hi Niall. Need something?”
“Nah,” Niall says, leaving her plate on the bedside table. “You haven’t really been around. Just missed you. Even if you do have utter shit taste in boy bands.”
Liam’s grin widens as they lapse into familiar banter. “Don’t lie, Niall: you love N’SYNC just as much as I do.”
Niall hums ambivalently, even though both of them know she’s right, before falling silent and picking at the ever-growing hole in the knee of her favourite jeans.
After a moment, Liam cocks her head to peer at Niall. “So you didn’t actually come to argue about music, right? What’s wrong?”
It takes her a moment, to gather her thoughts. And then, like she just can’t contain herself: “I just. You know. I miss you. We all miss you. And it’s not the same without you, and just, like. I…You’re amazing, did you know?” Niall blurts out, her brain to mouth filter short-circuiting.
Liam stares at her, confused. “…what?” she finally manages.
Niall sighs miserably, her eyes fixated on the swirling designs of the sheets. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she says, wishing she had planned out her strategy more carefully. “It’s just that. Um. We need you, and like. It sucks when you're not around."
"I hardly doubt that's true," Liam tells her, but pulls her into a hug anyway.
"No," Niall tells her earnestly. She pushes her nose against Liam, trying to make her laugh and it kind of works. After a moment, she pulls away to peer curiously at Liam. "Please say this doesn't have anything to do with the stupid news article from last week," Niall blurts out.
She sighs again, almost half-expecting to be told to leave. Instead, Liam reaches over and pulls Niall in closer towards her. “I…Niall,” she says fondly, starting and stopping, before starting again. “You shouldn’t worry, I promise. It’s just, you know.” Liam gestures vaguely. “Things are moving really fast. Just need a little…” she trails off, shrugging.
Control, she doesn’t say, but she doesn’t have to: Niall understands anyway, but what do you even do with that?
Finally, Niall settles on shifting and reaching for the sandwich that’s still on the bedside table. She holds out half as a peace-offering. “Peanut butter and jelly,” she says. “Halfsies?” She pauses, waiting for Liam to take it. “By the way, I meant what I said earlier. All of it.”
Liam ducks her head a little. “Whatever, Niall.”
“No,” Niall says gently. “Not whatever. It really is true.” She picks up her half of the sandwich. “You’re not alone. Like, I know things get hard sometimes, believe me, I know. But if you need us, even when you feel like everything’s the worst, we’re here. Okay?”
She doesn’t respond, not right away. But when Liam takes a small bite of her sandwich, Niall can tell that she’s smiling, too.
-
iii.
They all know something’s wrong when Louis comes down for breakfast late, her eyes suspiciously red and puffy. Harry’s pretty bad at practicing personal space and distance when it comes to Louis, and almost immediately she’s in Louis’ lap, arms around her neck. Liam gets up to make her a mug of tea as the others stare worriedly at Louis.
“What’s wrong?” Zayn finally says.
“Nothing, I’m fine,” Louis tells them all, trying a smile, though its wobble gives her away.
“Fuck that,” Niall says not unkindly. Liam comes back with tea, and suddenly Louis finds herself in the middle of an impromptu group hug at the dining room table, and feels a little bit better.
It turns out she’s been on the phone all morning with her boyfriend, who tells her it’s too hard being apart all the time and how she’s changed and maybe they shouldn’t be together anymore because it’s just not working out.
Harry’s indignant on her behalf: “What? You’re still the same Louis as before!”
“It’s his loss,” Liam says, shaking her head in disbelief.
“He didn’t deserve you anyway,” Niall adds helpfully.
“And we just love you more,” Harry concludes. Her eyes suddenly brighten, tightening her grip on Louis. “So much more that we’re going to have an ice cream, chick-flick and man-hating marathon tonight.”
Zayn nods in encouragement, reaching over to squeeze Louis’ hand tightly.
“Thanks girls,” Louis says bravely, trying to discreetly wipe her nose with the back of her hand. “But we don’t need to --”
“-- sure we do!” Harry barges right on. And then, more gently: “Because what else can we do? Let us do this for you, Lou.”
-
They’re doing a photoshoot a few days later, and when Zayn steps outside for a smoke break, Louis follows her and sits down on the curb beside her, not saying anything at all. Zayn just nudges her with her shoulder: she cranes her neck to blow smoke away from Louis’ face, smokes the entire cigarette in companionable silence before stubbing out the dying embers and tossing it away.
“I miss him,” Louis says suddenly, quietly, more serious than Zayn thinks she’s ever heard her. “I know it’s stupid, but I just miss him.”
“I know,” she says, wrapping arm around Louis. “That’s okay.” And she really, really means it.
Louis gives her a watery smile and Zayn holds on tight.
---
Two conversations
i.
“Are you really going to wear jogging bottoms for the interview?” Zayn stares at Niall in disbelief, smoothing down invisible wrinkles in her own skirt. “Who do think you are, Sporty Spice?”
“Louis’ wearing espadrilles and ripped capris,” Niall points out. “What does that make her? Fucking…Homeless Spice?”
“No, actually: that makes me comfortable,” Louis corrects, somewhat indignantly. She sniffs a little bit, rooting around Liam’s purse for lip gloss while Liam pretends that she doesn’t notice that Louis’ got her purse. “Who’s comfy in four inch heels and corsets? Not me.”
Zayn stares at her. “I don’t wear corsets. And you look like a butch lesbian.”
“Liam’s the one wearing jeans tucked into fire boots!” Louis cries.
“Yeah,” Liam agrees. “But Harry’s the lesbian.”
Harry grins, nodding. “It’s true,” she says cheerfully. She teeters a little on her heels as she reaches over to take the gloss from Louis and applies it expertly, first to Louis and then to herself. “I am.”
“Anyway,” Niall drawls, mischievously throwing an arm around Zayn and the other around a pouting Louis. “It doesn’t matter, right? I’ve got inner-beauty. You love me for it.”
Zayn sighs, a long-suffering sound, and after a moment, concedes by dropping a kiss to Niall’s cheek. “Guess you’re right,” she says, trying not to smile over Niall’s loud, sudden crow of victory.
-
ii.
Niall’s taking her empty mug back to the kitchen to wash, when she runs into Harry, who looks up guiltily from eating spoonfuls of peanut butter directly from the shared jar.
“Gross, Harry,” Niall remarks without any real malice. “Germs?”
Harry just grins, shoving the spoon back into the jar and holds out an arm for a hug.
Niall sighs but complies anyway, letting herself be folded against Harry, breathing in the smell of raspberry lotion. “Still gross, though.”
Laughing, Harry turns her head to rest her chin on Niall’s shoulder, her curls brushing lightly against Niall’s cheek. And then: “Everything all right?”
Niall thinks about this for a moment, about everything that’s passed and everything that could happen. Finally, she simply says, “Yeah, it will be,” and she knows she is right.
---
One time nothing else mattered
i.
It’s been years since the show and they’re all still together, finalizing their sophomore album. And the more things change, even more stays the same - nothing’s going to stop Louis from mounting one of them in the middle of a group meeting, not even Zayn’s long-suffering sighs and eyerolling, which actually makes her an especially fun target.
They’re still living together, in a London flat - management requires it, but they don’t really mind since they all have their own rooms this time around, with the exception of Harry and Louis who decide that they’re still attached at the hip. And they still haven’t really made it outside of the UK yet, but that’s okay, too: maybe this is the album; maybe this is the year. And yeah, so they’re working fourteen hour days this week to finish up the tracks but maybe it’ll be worth it in the end.
It gets to the point where, when they’re given the rare night off for the first time in weeks, despite ambitious plans of getting glammed up and hammered to go clubbing all night, 9 p.m. finds all five of them sacked out in front of the television in pyjamas and surrounded by takeaway containers.
“So this is the life, hmmm?” Harry remarks idly, content to be squashed up against Louis on the couch. “Such an exciting Friday night.”
“‘fraid so,” Zayn replies from the floor, not lifting her head from where it’s pillowed in Liam’s lap, surrounded by abandoned chopsticks.
Louis looks appraisingly around at each of them in turn. Then she smiles, lazily, like a kitten who has just found the solitary patch of sunshine in the kitchen. “As long as I’ve got you bitches,” she declares, carding her fingers through Niall’s hair. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
[ end ]