Scoundrels (One Direction Fanfic)

. “What are we playing for?” Quinn asked.
“Fame, glory, bragging rights,” Niall listed, counting the items off on his fingers with a cheeky grin. Quinn rolled her eyes and shoved him lightly, prompting him to shove her back. “Loser buys the winner dinner?”


1. The Return

The Return

She stood at the window, leaning against a square metal pole with her arms folded across her chest. A cup of tea poked out of one elbow and the steam rose in front of her face, fogging the window lightly. She’d wiped it off three times already, and the tea was starting to go cold. She’d been dying for it ten minutes ago… but the moment she realised how little time was left until the plane from LA landed at the arrivals gate, her appetite left as anxiety set in.

It had been six months since Quinn had seen her brother and his band-mates. They’d been off trying to break their way into the American music industry, after scoring a few gigs around England and making quite a name for themselves. Things had gone okay, according to Xavier, but they weren’t big stars just yet. Quinn sighed and tilted her head to rest it against the pole, scuffing her feet lightly. She’d been at the airport all day, had borrowed the family car especially for the trip in. She would probably be spending two months’ allowance on the parking fees alone, but it was so worth it.

She didn’t have to get in so early, she knew. But there was the little problem of another boy band being on the same flight; One Direction. Quinn had expected the crowds of screaming girls and just as predicted, they had flocked to the gate and set up camp just to welcome the plane in. She had nothing against them; she was doing the same thing, after all, except she wasn’t about to fawn over Harry Styles’ curly hair when she had Xavier. How he’d managed to score the same flight as the biggest phenomenon of the decade was beyond Quinn, but she was sort of glad he did.

One Direction were a favourite band of hers, despite the flack she copped for it. Apparently, eighteen year old girls aren’t supposed to be quietly into with the famous boys, while it’s perfectly fine for twelve-year-olds to write the equivalent of erotic literature and post it online. Something was wrong with the thinking there. Quinn watched as plane after plane landed, unloaded, refuelled and took off. She’d been counting in the beginning, had lost track after twenty-nine.

And then she heard it. Barely.

“Attention Passengers; Flight US Zero-Seven-Three-Zero from Douglas International is now arriving at Terminal Three.”

An almighty roar went up from the crowd of screaming girls, who all rushed to the window, vying for the best spot to see the plane come in. Quinn felt herself pressed against the glass and realised her tea was gone; somebody gave a cry of disgust, and she was quietly vindicated. She might’ve wanted to drink that, even if it was slowly heading for lukewarm and therefore rubbish.

“Oh my God!” Someone screamed, and hands pounded the window as an American Airlines jet appeared in the sky, coasting down towards the runway. Quinn kept her eyes on the wheels, always looking for the smoke when the tyres touched the ground, and grinned when she saw it. Half an hour, maybe less, then she’d have her Xavier back. He’d promised to make it for her high school graduation, but thanks to flight complications had missed it by a week. It didn’t matter. Having him back at all more than made up for it.

Quinn fought to keep her place by the window, watching the bridge attach to the plane. People spilled from the front and back of the aircraft, those on the tarmac hurrying inside as the typical British summer meant rain and more rain. Only hazy stuff though, nothing serious, but it was that annoying kind of rain that got in under the most weatherproof of clothing.

“Here they come! There they are!” the girls left the window to mob around the ramp up into the terminal, waving and screaming as One Direction surfaced into them. Quinn hung back, wishing the lot of them would bloody move already so she could have her brother. She glanced from the ramp to the bridge to the tarmac, trying to spot Xavier or at least one of his mates before they spotted her. It was the game they always played at the airport whenever they came to pick someone up, to see who could spot them first.

“Harry! Look here! Oh my God! HARRY!”

Quinn ducked around a crying redhead and tried to get closer to the ramp, hoping now that the boys were gone things would calm down a little bit. Of course not; it was nearly impossible to move forward or back and Quinn could see some people getting seriously pissed with the situation. She couldn’t imagine any one of them being more impatient than she was; and really, there were worse places to hang than the airport. She quite liked it.

She found a row of seats, unaware that she’d moved with the crowd like being in the ocean’s current, and climbed up to see over the heads of the masses. She caught sight of a frantically waving hand, then a dark head sticking out above the heads of the others. Beside him were two more grinning faces, a blonde and a shaggy-haired brunette who had forsaken his usual pout to actually smile.

“QUINNY!” she heard her name, a faint shout echoing above the screaming girls. At least those lungs were good for something, she thought with a grin, as she waved like a maniac.

“XAVIER!” she screamed back, trying to make herself heard. Her brother stopped waving and she watched him duck, then be propelled out of the ramp and over the barrier to a slightly clearer part of the terminal floor. Behind him, Tyson threw up their backpacks before the blonde accepted Ben’s lift. Ben, being the tallest by two inches, was left to flounder his own way up the wall while the other two tried to pull him. Quinn nearly fell about laughing as she leapt down off the chairs, pushing her way through.

Girls shoved her from all directions and several times she nearly let loose a string of obscenities, only holding back because she knew it wouldn’t achieve her goal. It was only when she felt herself lose her footing and start to fall that she cried out, catching herself on the muscly arm of a tall bloke in a black fitted shirt. He glared down at her through his sunglasses- why he needed them was beyond her- and Quinn stood up, shaking her head. “I don’t want them,” she said, desperate to make him see. “My brother’s over there. I just want to get through.”

The bodyguard gave her a silent stare and she rolled her eyes before ducking under his arm and dashing across the clear circle surrounding One Direction. She didn’t give the boys a second glance before leaping into the crowd on the other side and continuing to fight her way through. When people became aware that she was trying to get away, they seemed more sympathetic and let her pass if only to take her place the moment she left it.

Finally, panting and struggling to breathe, Quinn found herself in a quieter part of the crowd and with three metres between herself and her beloved big brother. He gave her a long up-and-down look as Tyson scrubbed a hand through his dyed-blonde hair and Ben stifled a smirk. “Not. One. Word,” Quinn warned the two of them, holding up three fingers as she said it.

Xavier just shook his head. “You should’ve stayed where you were, silly girl,” he said, running forward to seize his sister and spin her around, shrieking, until they were both dizzy and faintly sick. “I missed you!” he laughed as Quinn gripped his jacket, quietly crying into his chest. Happy tears, though, and she wiped her face on her sleeve before giving him the biggest smile she could muster.

“I missed you, bro,” she replied and flung her arms around his neck again. Xavier squeezed her back and left his arm around her waist as they started to walk, Tyson taking Quinn’s other side and Ben walking behind the three like a trio of bodyguards. “How was America?” Quinn asked, looking at Tyson and half breaking her neck to give Ben the indication that he ought to join the conversation. He was too quiet sometimes, that boy.

“Bloody mental,” Ben grunted, the only reply he’d give until he’d had a couple beers and loosened his lips. Tyson rolled his eyes but nodded in agreement.

“I thought Tamworth chicks were bad,” the blonde shuddered and Quinn felt herself starting to laugh as Xavier chuckled beside her, still holding her close. “I couldn’t tell if half of the LA birds were birds or not!”

Xavier roared with laughter and even Ben mustered a chuckle as Quinn echoed her brother and slung an arm around Tyson’s neck. Both boys were easily a foot taller than her, Ben almost two feet, which made her look much like a child around them. It wasn’t fair; why did they all get to be six foot at a minimum and she was stuck on five-five? “American beer is rubbish,” Xavier piped up as Quinn rolled her eyes.

“The three of you went over there for your career, and all I’m hearing is transvestites and beer,” she surmised, much to Tyson’s amusement. Ben even cracked a smile, though Quinn had to trust her instincts on that one as she couldn’t actually see him. Of all her boys, Ben was the quietest, and the youngest. A typical moody bass player, as Xavier always teased. Tyson however was a drummer, and the constant physical exertion made him a little bit unstable, and Xavier, as the lead singer and guitarist, had none of those negative qualities and was simply handsome, talented and perfect all round.

That is, if you were to ask Xavier. Tyson and Ben might describe him as an arrogant twat who never rose before ten at the minimum and enjoyed the occasional beer too many. “We did work a little bit,” Xavier was quick to defend himself and his band mates as they stood at the luggage carousel, glad that they’d beaten the One Direction fans to it.

“I worked,” Ben piped up solemnly, standing beside Quinn when Tyson went galloping off after his runaway suitcase, which he would have spotted earlier had he not been trying to measure a nearby girl’s skirt with his eyes.

“Yeah,” Xavier scoffed, leaning across his sister to slap his bassist’s head. “For a day.” Ben just shook his head and lunged forward to grab a shiny black briefcase, clearly brand new. Without a word, he popped the locks so Quinn could peek in and see the lyrics and music he’d written. It was Ben’s compulsively neat script, compared to Tyson’s messy tab and Xavier’s disorganised scribble.

Xavier disappeared to chase down his case as Tyson returned, waving to a girl he’d only just met. He was beatboxing badly under his breath as he returned and the girl snickered with her friends at his behaviour. Quinn didn’t point it out and Ben was too polite to say a word, though his eyebrows did disappear into his hairline for a second or two until Xavier returned and once again held Quinn close. “Car?” he asked, nodding to the doors.

As a group, they moved off, Quinn in the lead as she knew where she parked. She didn’t notice when Xavier dropped back to whisper with Tyson and Ben, the three of them clearly plotting something…

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