liam's great idea! 1/3 (sorry this is the Worst, i just can't pass up a babysitters club au it would seem)
It’s Liam’s idea in the end, and she twists her baseball hat backwards, a tiny tuft of hair peeking out over the snapback, grinning at them all until even Niall’s rolling her eyes.
“Get on with it, then,” she says, shaking her head and reaching across Harry to nick some of Zayn’s chocolate covered potato chips, to a chorus of groans and those have gluten in them and don’t come crying to me when your head hurts later.
“Get on with what?” Liam asks, rocking back on her heels and dragging her backpack, the one that Louis sewed all those patches onto, in front of her and pulling out a glossy notebook.
“The rules,” Louis pitches in, perking up at the sight of Liam’s backpack. “I know, I know, you’ve spent all last night writing a million tiny little rules into that journal of yours, and I know you’ve spend ages practicing your speech about responsibility and helping and coloring inside the lines and—”
“Well it’s true,” Liam tells her, “I mean, this isn’t just for fun anymore, it’s—”
“For money, now,” Harry cuts in, grinning and fixing her braid, “and for other people, and for Stonybrook, and—”
“D’you think,” Zayn says suddenly, looking up from her sketchbook and dropping her pen unceremoniously onto the floor, “d’you think that I could make earrings from those seashells Niall got me last week?”
Louis tosses a pillow at Zayn for that, and then Niall throws the empty bag of chocolate covered potato chips, and even Liam’s giggling along with them, burying her face in Harry’s shoulder, and just like that, the first meeting’s fizzled out.
+
Liam calls round everyone’s house later that night, the little kids running by her and getting the telephone cord all tangled, half reading her list of rules and half chiding them all for the meeting earlier, and when they get to school the next day, they find Liam’s copies of the rules stuck to each of their lockers, decorated in stickers and crayon scrawled doodles courtesy of the little kids (and maybe Liam too, though she’d never admit to it).
no subject
It’s Liam’s idea in the end, and she twists her baseball hat backwards, a tiny tuft of hair peeking out over the snapback, grinning at them all until even Niall’s rolling her eyes.
“Get on with it, then,” she says, shaking her head and reaching across Harry to nick some of Zayn’s chocolate covered potato chips, to a chorus of groans and those have gluten in them and don’t come crying to me when your head hurts later.
“Get on with what?” Liam asks, rocking back on her heels and dragging her backpack, the one that Louis sewed all those patches onto, in front of her and pulling out a glossy notebook.
“The rules,” Louis pitches in, perking up at the sight of Liam’s backpack. “I know, I know, you’ve spent all last night writing a million tiny little rules into that journal of yours, and I know you’ve spend ages practicing your speech about responsibility and helping and coloring inside the lines and—”
“Well it’s true,” Liam tells her, “I mean, this isn’t just for fun anymore, it’s—”
“For money, now,” Harry cuts in, grinning and fixing her braid, “and for other people, and for Stonybrook, and—”
“D’you think,” Zayn says suddenly, looking up from her sketchbook and dropping her pen unceremoniously onto the floor, “d’you think that I could make earrings from those seashells Niall got me last week?”
Louis tosses a pillow at Zayn for that, and then Niall throws the empty bag of chocolate covered potato chips, and even Liam’s giggling along with them, burying her face in Harry’s shoulder, and just like that, the first meeting’s fizzled out.
+
Liam calls round everyone’s house later that night, the little kids running by her and getting the telephone cord all tangled, half reading her list of rules and half chiding them all for the meeting earlier, and when they get to school the next day, they find Liam’s copies of the rules stuck to each of their lockers, decorated in stickers and crayon scrawled doodles courtesy of the little kids (and maybe Liam too, though she’d never admit to it).