Cats, Kisses, And Wagon Wheels. *finished*

One Direction, a band that was formed during the 2010 X Factor. Niall Horan, Zayn Malik, Liam Payne, Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson. Oh right, and Charlie Hunter. You didn't know about her? The Wagon-Wheel-addict with the curly hair? Well, I doubt anyone will tell you too much then. After all, what happens in the house, stays in the house. (Silver in the M Factor Competition) "This story is so hilarious, and it's already my favourite." - " amazing story, full of romance, drama, teenage life and loads more! The storyline is amazing, the characters are easy to visualize." - "An all around perfect book, even though it's a fanfiction!"

--Written for my cousin-in-law, Lottie, who wanted to have a One Direction Fanfic for her birthday. You are welcome.--


9. Breakfast Girl.

In Which There is Baby Tea And A Skype Call With Charlie's Mum.


When I woke up the next morning, I smelled like Harry. I rubbed my eyes and yawned, noticing how my eyes hurt a bit. Oh no, I had fallen asleep with my contacts in and with mascara on. Great. I decided to just wear my glasses today and went to shower so that I smelled like a girl again. I just put on boyfriend-cut white shorts and a light pink top, wearing my brother’s old Ackworth football jumper—all classy, with HUNTER on the back—over it. It went well past my shorts, but who cares. I threw my hair up in a ponytail because it looked like a haystack and put on some mascara—I didn’t like too much make-up, I sometimes used BB Cream or powder, but that was it. And always mascara because my lashes were long, but kind of blonde, so you couldn’t see how long they actually were.

I yawned, tapping down into the kitchen barefoot to make breakfast.

I boiled some water first to make a giant pot of tea, pouring myself a cup and adding milk and sugar to get me awake so I could start cooking.

Sipping my cuppa, I found some bacon in the fridge, as well as eggs, so I decided to make my nana Hunter’s awesome American pancakes. The smell of pancakes seemed to wake the boys up—I didn’t think they’d get up before noon without it—because they all came into the kitchen at one point, apart from Zayn. So I sent Louis to wake him up, mean as I was.

“How do you like your tea?” I asked as Harry hugged me, almost falling asleep with his head on my shoulder.

“Your hair smells like me,” he murmured, “I like it. You should wear it down. And you should wear glasses more often. It’s sexy.”

I smiled, shaking my head and rubbing his neck. He was obviously still half asleep. Then I pried myself out of his grip and gave him a warm cuppa as well. He sniffed and then happily sipped some, puckering his lips at the taste.

“This is ridiculously strong, but I don’t care, it has caffeine.”

“It’s Yorkshire Tea, it has to be ridiculously strong. Drink it to wake up, you're obviously still asleep judging from the crazy talk. You’ll get another one later if you want. And by the way, I asked how you others liked your tea,” I repeated.

Liam frowned. “Look, you really don’t have to do this for us…”

“But I want to,” I cut him off. “So you guys tell me how you like your tea, and then go set the table.”

“You sound like my Mum,” Niall whined.

“Eggs?” I asked.

He nodded furiously. “Fried. And I like my tea strong, with milk and three sugars, please.”

“Builders’ Tea, huh? Shall do,” I said, cracking eggs into the pan with one hand and dropping sugar into a mug with the other. Niall gawked.

“How do you do that?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I can multitask. Liam?”

“Boiled, medium, if that’s okay. Tea with three sugars as well, though I feel bad making you work.” I waved it off while I put some water in a cooking pan, and he smiled. “I’d help, but I’m awful at cooking. You’re a doll.”

“Do you know about the others?” I asked, handing him his mug.

“Louis likes his tea without anything, and Harry doesn’t really fancy tea at all.”

“Better than coffee, but it makes me feel so stereotypical,” Harry piped in. “This tea is awfully strong, by the way, I’ll have some of yours.” Before I could say anything, he had taken a sip out of my mug, which he immediately spit out. “What the hell is that, it’s disgustingly sweet!”

I grinned and took my tea from him, demonstratively drinking some. “It’s what Yorkshire people call Baby and the Irish Builders’ Tea, two thirds tea, a third milk, two sugars and a tiny squeeze of lemon, but only because I felt like it today.”

Niall and I high-fived.

“Though I only drink Builders’ Tea at home,” He reasoned. “I usually just have sugar. How do you know about that anyways?”

“My Grandma’s Irish,” I explained. “She’s a beast.”

We all laughed, and I went to put Liam’s eggs into the boiling water, heating another pan.

“Harry?” I asked.

He was chucking down water because he found my tea so disgusting.

“Scrambled or poached, whatever,” he muttered, glaring at the mug in my hand.

“The others?”

“Louis likes scrambles eggs as well, I think, and Zayn’s boiled eggs, three minute.”

“You know everything, Liam, don’t you?”

He grinned. “Why, yes, I do.”

“I like two sugars in my tea as well, cheers,” Zayn said, coming into the kitchen.

I smiled. “That’s adorable, but do get out of my kitchen and set the table, kids.” I pointed at them with my wooden spoon while I was waiting for the water in another pan to simmer.

I messed up the first poached egg because I hadn’t made any for quite a long time, but I eventually managed to make everything and kind of at the same time, I had even made some bacon.

I made individual plates for everyone, Niall’s being the biggest (by far), with four eggs and a lot of bacon. I’d put the pancakes in the middle.

I set down the plates in front of everyone, them looking at me with wide eyes.

Louis grinned at me, wearing glasses as well. "Hey, breakfast girl," he greeted me.

“I didn’t think you were actually going to make everyone’s favourites,” Zayn said. “And by the way, you look well fit with those glasses on, I love it!”

“Yeah, I thought you were dividing all over the week or whatever,” Liam piped in. “I feel bad now.”

I smiled. “Well, don’t get used to it because I’m only doing it today, bon appétit!” Harry had gotten some apple juice because he didn’t want any more tea, and was happily drinking it, probably still traumatised from having mine. When he ate some of his eggs, his eyes became wide, which I could see easily since he was just across the table. I frowned, thinking I had made a mistake, but my poached eggs tasted just fine. I loved poached eggs.

“Harry, are they okay? Do you want mine?” I asked, but he shook his head, swallowing.

“Marry me?” He asked, side-smiling and I burst out in laughter.

“Sure,” I said, “If I’m not married by the time I’m thirty and you’ve grown tired of all your model girlfriends, we’ll be each other’s second choice.”

“No way, you’re already my first,” Niall argues through a mouth full of eggs and bacon.

“Sure, because I’m a veggie, forgotten?”

He seemed to actually think about that for a while.

“More bacon for me,” he finally said, making all of us laugh.

Harry and Niall continued fighting about my hand a bit, until I grabbed Liam’s arm and said, “Guys, I’ve decided. I want Liam. He at least thought about helping me, and he’s sane. And breathing, what else could I ever look for?” I winked at the laughing Liam, having to hold back from bursting out laughing as well. Harry’s and Niall’s faces were too good.

“Didn’t you say your Grandma’s Irish?” Niall asked after we’d eaten.

I nodded.

“Can I fangirl?”

I laughed. “Don’t you want to hear my expert Irish accent first? I practised for a whole summer that I spent at my uncle’s, but it was totally worth it, I aced the drama practical on Dancing At Lughnasa.”

“Oh, yeah, can we hear it?”

I nodded, clearing my throat. “Hullo, fellas, my name is Charlotte Hunter and I am a sixth of the super-popular band One Direction,” I said, rolling the Rs, “I have to pretend to be an Irishwoman for the sake of Niall Horan who doesn’t believe me when I say I aced my Drama exam because that is how awesome I am.”


“I can see why you aced that,” Zayn said. “Can you do Yorkshire as well?”

I nodded. “I’m doing a Yorkshire accent right now just to shove it in Niall’s face and show him how much better Yorkshire is. But Nick told me when I arrived never to get a Yorkshire accent because it’s the most unattractive thing on a girl.”

“If heard you talking like that on the streets of Leeds, I’d think you’d been living in Yorkshire for your whole life,” Zayn said. “Did you want to study Drama?”

I nodded. “Got accepted for the CSSD, and I had an interview for Oxford. I wanted to do Drama and Applied Languages, but my Mum was against it.”


“You guys?”

Liam held up his hands. “Don’t ask me, I just finished my GCSEs.”

“Same,” Harry mumbled. Niall nodded.

“That is so sad…” I teased.

“How come you’ve finished school but you’re the youngest?”

I giggled. “It’s because I’m a genius. Haha. Ha.”

“You know what?” Niall asked randomly.


“We need a song.”

I nodded solemnly. “This calls for Wagon Wheels, I’ll be back.”

I came down the stairs with two packages, one for me, and the other one for the rest of the guys.

“Dig in.”

“Did you really give my Mum a Wagon Wheel when you met?” Harry chuckled.

I glared at him. “So? They’re good for everything and she told me her son was nervous as a baby and puking his guts out.”

“So were you,” He countered.

“Damn, she told you that?”

“She did after my sister asked why she smelled like a lovely mixture of puke and Issey Miyake. Of course she didn’t know it was Issey Miyake. My sister doesn’t know things like that.”

I gawked. “How do you know what perfume I’m wearing?”

He shrugged. “I know everything, love. Like you being sick on the loo.”

“I’m a girl,” I argued. “I can be a nervous wreck. But you’re a guy, men are supposed to be the strong gender, so it’s a disgrace if you’re puking.”

“I’m all for emancipation and against gender roles.”

I grinned cheekily. “Nice. So that means I don’t have to cook for any of you anymore, right? Because I already did my part. Thanks, Harry, so who of you guys is going to be preparing today’s meals?”

The guys groaned. Niall punched Harry in the back.

“Apologize, Styles, and admit you’re a cissy, or we’ll have to live off junk again,” Zayn growled. Harry seemed to hesitate.

“Now!” Liam said in his father voice (apparently, he really was totally useless in the kitchen).

“I’m sorry and I’m being a cissy,” Harry grumbled.

I smiled. “Great. Now I am totally for Perfect by P!nk because we could all sing it, it fits our voices. I can rest assured you’re able to harmonise?”

Big eyes.

I sighed. “I guess not.”

“I am,” Niall said. “Well, I guess so, I mean, I did it with my guitar.”

“Niall, you’re my new best friend. Guys would you mind singing a c for me?”


“Niall, would you mind strumming a bottom c on your guitar?” (I do not play the guitar, but I’m pretty sure there is a bottom c on it, but humour me.)


He played, they hummed.

“Can you go one deeper?”

I continued like this—I also noted their highest notes—and found out that whereas I could’ve sworn it’d be Harry, Liam had the lowest voice, and Harry could go the highest.

“Liam, sing this note.” He did.

“Zayn.” I gave him his note.




“Me,” I finally said before singing the highest note and completing the harmony.

“That sounded good,” Louis decided when we’d finished.

“Thanks,” I said. “Harmonising is really easy, and generally, if you want a second voice, just go a third higher or lower, that usually works.”

“You’re good,” Niall complimented me, and I cuddled him.

“Gee, thanks, new best friend.” My phone beeped, showing me that my Mum was requesting me on Skype. “Guys, can you think of more songs, the Mother Bird wants to talk to me.” I rolled my eyes.

“Sure, but go to the living room, or else the connection will be horrible,” Harry told me.

I smiled. “Thanks.”

I walked over slowly, grabbing my laptop on the way. I was not looking forward to this conversation.

“Hi, Mom,” I said into the camera. “How do you do?”

My mother, dressed in a white blouse with dark brown dots and a pastel pink blazer and with perfectly blow-dried hair, smiled graciously.

“Hello, Charlotte.”

“Hi, Charlie’s Mum!” Louis screamed, him and Harry coming up behind the sofa I was sitting on.  I giggled.

“Stop it with the giggling, Charlotte; it makes you seem like a child.”

“Mum, I’m sixteen, I am a child.”

She shook her head. “You are a young lady, you’ve had your debutante ball, you should act like your age and not like a six-year-old in the body of a sixteen-year old. And who are these young gentlemen?” My Mum hadn’t always been like that, but since Paul was gone, she’d become more and more an American Upper Class Lady.

“Louis Tomlinson, at your service,” Louis grinned. Oh, the sass.

“Harry Styles, miss.” Harry rubbed his neck nervously.

“You are just too handsome for words, aren’t you?” She smiled at Harry. Then her gaze went to Louis, and she frowned. “You, my dear, are in desperate need of a haircut.” Louis’ smile faltered, and Harry looked at me in shock. I shrugged; there was nothing I could do about my mother.

“Mom, these two are in my band.”

“I see… Honey, you really have to stop talking so quickly, one can barely understand a word. I have told you several times what I think about the mumbling. Take Harry-“

“Oh, she will,” Louis muttered.

“-he talks slowly, that earns you respect.”

“Thanks, Mom. Bye, Mom.”

I clicked on the red button before she could say anything else and closed my laptop.

“My Mom’s like that, I apologise for everything she will ever say to you.”

“My family’s cooler,” Louis decided.

“Nice for you, my real family lives in a school in Yorkshire, though.”

“Oh, oh, turn on some music!” Niall said, reaching over my shoulder to fumble around with my iTunes.

“Uhm, excuse me?”

He ignored me. “Your music is so girly,” he complained.



“You’re on a playlist called ‘Girls’ Night In’, what do you expect?”

“Oh. Wait, does anyone have anything against listening to Bad Day?”

“Yes, me,” Liam said. “We should sing it instead.”

We tried, and I even tried getting some harmonies in but all in all, we were awful. We had a lot of fun, though, and that was something already.

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