~dedicated to stwhyles because wow, rooftop, wow~

"'What makes the desert beautiful,' said the little prince, 'is that somewhere it hides a well...'" - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince.

To be thirsty in a desert is the most terrible situation in which a man can find himself. To be thirsty without water; thirsty without shelter; thirsty without shade is to suffer until one can only beg for death to end his misery. The lips swell and so does the tongue, said her grandfather. The ears hollow until sound has gone, and the brain; don't get him started on the brain.

At first, she did not know desert heat. Now, she knows nothing but it.

At first, she knew only the spray of the waves. She knew the moisture suspended like curtains beneath the hanging leaves. She knew to stand back from blades cutting coconuts. She knew to look and not touch the hatchling turtles in their journey towards the waves.

In summer, she knew beignets and jazz quartets and river rides. She knew plantains and crawfish and étouffée. In summer, she knew Creole and mom and in winter she knew Hawaiian and dad.

All of Mom and all of Dad made Gypsy.

All of Mom and all of Dad together made Gypsy move.

So Gypsy knows the desert, now.

The desert can kill a man, said her Grandpa. It's funny, he would chuckle, because the desert can kill a man and there's a whole slew of birds and foxes and other little critters living there just fine. It's funny because the desert's full of life-it's a home for the living and I swear we humans think it's the home of the goddamn Devil.

The desert's only hard for those who can't adapt, said her Grandpa in a much softer voice since her Grandma had fussed at him for cursing and hated when he said the devil's name in her house. Those little animals and plants scurrying and living out in that wasteland have accepted the sand and mountains and rocks and dirt, and you've got to do that, too, if you're ever going to survive. You've got to accept and you've got to adapt, her Grandpa told her when she was six-when she'd first left Oahu and when she'd first learned heat-and that, he said, was the reason he moved to Vegas.

"Because of the devil?" Gypsy'd asked and her grandpa nodded his head and slapped his knee and laughed until her little eyes could see the fillings in his teeth.

"That's my girl, Gypsy; because of the devil."

When and if Lucifer fell from heaven, she swears he landed in Vegas B.C. and declared it home even then for the wayward souls, unlucky sinners and desperate thieves he decided would be hot enough to party with him VIP when they took an express-line straight to Hell.

At least, that's what Gypsy's come to believe, mostly thanks to her grandpa.

She sits, cross-legged on the top of the vent, cool air flowing between her thighs as her laptop fries her skin and she punches the backspace with an excessive force, the loud tap-tap-tap's falling to deaf ears as she allows Alien Ant Farm's cover of Smooth Criminal to drown out the world.

She's listening to her 'I hate everything' playlist on shuffle because as she sits in her grandparents suite and can't wrap her mind around why Stanford, let alone anyone would want to know how her education has contributed to who she is today when her brain is churning out anxiety and late nights and caffeine addiction for answers, Gypsy can't think of anything and Gypsy is frustrated and so Gypsy pretty much hates everything.

It doesn't help that she's stuck in her grandparent's motel since Dad's in Afghanistan and Mom's all packed for China and neither of them trust her enough to let her go with her friends to Australia.

"So?" Ashton had yelled from the street, throwing his head from his car window to catch Gypsy's attention.

She swallowed the annoying lump in her throat and smirked back at him, feigning not to know what 'so' he was referring to. She pulled a lollipop from her jean shorts and took a seat on her front steps, nearly burning her thighs as she pressed herself against the concrete.

Gypsy eased herself back onto her steps. "So, what, Irwin?"

"So," he exclaimed, jumping from the car and adjusting the red bandana that held back his curls. "So, are you coming to Sydney or what? So are you ready for the best summer of..." he played an air-drum solo because he was Ashton and Gypsy wondered for the billionth time why she was his friend. He twirled in the air and fist-pumped and did jazz-hands in front of her face and Gypsy wondered for the billionth and first time why she was his friend. "Of your life?!" He sang Guitar Hero style.

Luke walked behind him, laughing as he shook his head and shoved his large hands into his skintight pockets.

Ashton continued to wave his fingers in Gypsy's face.

Luke raised a blonde eyebrow. "What'd she say?-You're coming, right, Gyp?"

"No," Gypsy swatted Ashton's hands, "And you can tell the little drummer boy to get his fingers from in front of my face, thank you very much."

"Oh, c'mon," Ashton whined, spinning on his heel to plop down beside her on the steps. "Giovanna..."

Gypsy scowled because she hated her real name and Ashton knew she hated her real name and she felt even worse because she seriously actually really couldn't go. "Way to make me feel better, Ash," she muttered. "Aren't you supposed to be better at cheering people up?"

A look passed between the boys and Gypsy found great interest in unwrapping her candy. She didn't need to look to know that Ashton was smiling sadly and she didn't want to look at the concern Luke was simply unable to conceal.

Gypsy crushed her wrapper into a ball and stuffed the candy against her cheek.

"Sucks," she said. "Of course my best friends have to be the exchange students from Australia, leaving me all alone."

Luke's eyes were big, blue and concerned. He was always concerned for Gypsy. "You should be coming with us," he said.

"Don't I know it, Lucas."

"Aww, c'mon," Ashton said, "Cheer up here, would'ya? I'm sure you'll have plenty fun out here-it's nearly as hot here as it is at home, and b'sides, we aren't your only friends."

"Fine," Gypsy's eyes narrowed, her fingers twirling the candy against her teeth. "Name them."

"Well," Ashton scoffed, sitting up straighter. He adjusted an invisible tie, "there's that girl Alexis, from Maths."

"Who cheats off my homework?" She shattered sugar and found the center of her Tootsie Pop. "Nice one, Ash."

"What about Trisha? Trisha L-something. Trisha with the glasses?"

"Nope," Gypsy chose to ignore the unnaturally long fingers miming circles around his eyes. "Guess again."

"Well," he shrugged, as Luke looked between them with amusement, "Well, Gyp, I mean, Mr. Thomas kind of likes you-he counts as a friend, right?"

Luke's laugh left his nose as Gypsy punched Ashton in his elbow and proceeded to scowl. "Shut up, Lucas," she snapped, and the smile left his mouth but remained in his eyes. "C'mon, Gypsy. You know that was pretty clever as far as things go."

"You think Ash hung the moon, Luke. Of course you think he's funny."

He did.

"I am funny, Gyps-"

He was.

"-so, don't be mad at my little Lukey."

She wasn't.

"I'm not," because the fact was, she could never be mad at Luke-she couldn't even when she wanted to. Ashton? Ashton, she could be mad at. Calum? Apparently he fell into that category, too. Michael? Of course, because for crying out loud, she just wanted him to be blonde. She thought he was cutest blonde. Why couldn't he just stay blonde?

Luke drummed on her knee and she jumped, watching as he sucked on the empty hole in his lip. "Why can't you come, Gypsy? Y'know, seriously, 'cause we'll get your ticket, you know that, right? And you can stay with me if you need to. Like, I know you and Cal're..." He paused, "Uh..."

She didn't realize that she was gnawing with excessive force upon the candy remaining on her stick. "Say it, Luke. Just say it."

His blue eyes went wide because not only did he know that Gyspy was getting upset and he could practically feel the heat from her scowl, but because he told her that this would happen in the first place and he wanted to rub it in her face-friends just didn't date friends, even when they wanted to.

"Look," Ashton interjected, looking between the two of them, "Cal doesn't cry every time we mention you now, so that's a plus, yeah?"

Gypsy didn't hesitate to slap both of them as they laughed at her on her own front steps. "You both are a bunch of idiots, I hope you know. And," she jabbed her finger against Luke's broad chest, "I can't go because my mom doesn't trust me with you guys aka she doesn't trust me by myself all the way on the other side of the world," she pursed her lips. "Happy?"

"She trusts you, Gypsy," Luke replied reassuringly, forging on as his friend frowned towards the street. He bit back a smile and flicked his eyes towards Ash. "Are you sure you aren't coming 'cause you're scared?"

She scoffed, practically choking on the soggy stick between her teeth. "Of what?"

Luke's lips stretched to reveal his teeth, now. "It's okay to miss him, Gyps."

"I think," Ashton interrupted, hands on his chest, "that you two should just kiss and make up."

"Or just apologize," Luke muttered.

Gypsy wasn't so sure that Calum wanted to see, let alone speak to her, but that wasn't why she couldn't go to Sydney. She'd have put all hesitation and suppressed feelings and guilt towards her ex into a tiny box behind her heart to go with them and watch them in all of their 'banding' glory-apparently they were hot stuff at home and she wanted to see them actually perform. She knew deep down that while she was suffering in college one day they'd all be playing to screaming fans and girls throwing tampons at their feet. She knew it, and where did that leave her?

Gypsy swallowed her sadness and hesitation because she could feel Luke's prying eyes on her as Ashton went on and on and laughed to himself about something or other that she'd unfortunately found herself tuning out amidst her daydream.

"-and he's been writing songs about you, just so you know," he finished with a little giggle. "So hah, because feelings are still there and I called it and just hah."

That snapped her out of her trance. "What did you say?"

Ashton stuck his tongue in his cheek. "Cal's been writing songs about you. He's probably going to deny it if you ask-"

She hadn't dreamed of asking.

"-but he's been in denial for a while and I mean, come on. One listen to the lyrics and it's pretty obvious, isn't it Luke? I mean have you heard Voodoo Doll?" He smacked his lips and waved his hands against the stiff wall of heat, "Wait, wait wait-" He sputtered, "Wait, wait, have you heard Amnesia?"

"Ash," Luke nodded, "wha-what is wrong with you?"

Gypsy could feel the imprints of her molars on the plastic in her mouth. "How do you know? How can you be sure they're about-"

"Because I'm always right," Ash shrugged. "It's a gift. It's the Irish in me."

Luke laughed aloud and Gypsy sighed uncomfortably, just like each knew the other would.

The boys left this morning, Gypsy couldn't help but think bitterly as she sits now with cool air, a hot laptop and college applications.

She's already ready for them to come back. She's willing to give up summer to get her three best friends-and whatever she and Calum are-back beside her for their senior year in Vegas.

It's only Day 1 in The Charming Motel and Gypsy is all of 500% done.

She turns her playlist louder, the music thumping in her headphones as shadows slide across the bedroom floor and daylight becomes midday and midday becomes early evening, hues of red becoming violet and violet, now maroon as the sun now falls beneath the horizon.

Gypsy grabs the curtain and pulls it back, watching as darkness rests across the chapels, tiny houses and desert dirt this far out from The Strip.

It's got to be at least 100 degrees today of still heat that you can see, rising in waves from the pavement. Why anyone would willingly come to Vegas on a day like this is beyond Gypsy, and her laptop is closed and tossed atop the full bed in her grandparent's guest room, now.

"I'm done," she sighs, rubbing her tired eyes and pulling out her headphones and wishing she were anywhere but Charming, but namely Sydney.

And like that, there's something cold and wet on her ankle and she looks down and smiles because a Chihuahua on three legs is staring up at her with a wagging tail, the bells jingling around the rhinestoned collar around his neck.

"Bubba!" Gypsy exclaims, lifting the fat dog from the carpet. "Have you come to join in my misery, my little burrito?"

"Misery?"

Bubba nearly flies from Gypsy's arms, she spins around so fast.

"Grandma!"

Sissie purses her lips, lifting balled fists to her hips. "I know you're not miserable here with me."

"I'm not," Gypsy lies quickly. "I'm miserable doing college apps," she says, because that's most of the truth, right? "I'm miserable because it's five thousand degrees and I can't escape the heat."

Gypsy sighs as she watches an angry frown turn into a sad one. "That's 'cause you need to get your butt out of the house and come meet some of the guests," she says, linking her arm through her granddaughter's folded one, dragging her through the suite. "You know your granddad's been talking non-stop about you; I bet the people feel like they know you already!"

That was the thing about her grandmother; she thinks that every misfit who stays the night suddenly becomes a part of the family, and that just makes no sense to Gypsy. "Grandma, I doubt it."

She's checked with a hip. "Nonsense!" Sissie coos, and all of a sudden Gyspsy's met by a familiar wall of heat. "Once you start working here you'll see what I mean."

"Working?"

Sissie hums melodically and locks up the suite. "C'mon, Gysp!" she exclaims, throwing back her head with a laugh, "All the food's gonna be cold if you wait; let's go!"

With Bubba in her arms, Gypsy has no choice but to follow her grandmother down the stairs.

William "Willie" and Cicely "Sissie" Lareaux moved from Haiti to New Orleans to Chicago to Las Vegas and finally settled down for good when Willie decided that heat was best for arthritics and why not be close to his only grandchild? The deal was signed, sealed and delivered when one of his army buddies from Vietnam decided that he was selling a motel for cheap having made a living on it after the war.

The Lareaux's bought The Charm Motel and added an 'i-n-g,' painted it up and refurbished the 30 rooms available for rent located just a few miles directly south of Circus Circus on The Strip. Charming was in walking distance from the most populated area in Vegas, so it received its fair share of traffic-the likeliest and unlikeliest of visitors would rendezvous in the motel, and Willie liked to say that because of it, he'd had enough interesting stories to last a lifetime.

Just above the main office where guests checked in, towels were stored and room keys were numbered, the Lareaux's lived in a two-bedroom suite overlooking the parking lot besides the adjacent, two-story building housing the guest rooms with their alternating bubblegum pink and turquoise green rooms.

Adjacent to the entrance-office was a kitchen, and adjacent to the kitchen was a dining hall, where an occasional band would play or a bingo tournament would turn into a screaming match. This dining hall was complete with tables, chairs, a stage, a chandelier and-it wouldn't be Vegas without them-three slot machines. Every morning, this hall served continental breakfast and every night, this hall served a buffet dinner.

It's a half past five as Gypsy follows her grandmother into the front office.

"I thought we were going to dinner," Gypsy says, setting Bubba on the floor beside the front desk.

"Doesn't really start 'till six, Gyps," Sissie replies, picking Bubba up from the floor beside the front desk. "Besides," she continues, motioning with a finger to join her behind the desk, "I want to show you something."

Gypsy does as she's told.

"Every once and a while, I'm going to ask you to man the desk," Sissie explains, pointing to the new desktop that somehow seems out of place amidst its surroundings. "If a guest is checking in, you're gonna enter them into our log book."

"Log book?"

"This, here," Sissie replies, pointing to a bouncing program on the computer's dock. "You enter their name when they're checking in and take it out when they're checking out, get it?"

Gypsy gets it.

"So, when you're checking them in, the computer's going to assign them an empty room if it's available; that's the beauty of technology," Sissie grins as if she'd lived in the Stone Age or something. "When they're checking out, you check and see if they've paid for their stay, take the room key and check them out; sound easy enough?"

Gypsy thinks so.

"Great," Sissie beams, hoisting Bubba up a little further in her arms. "Now, I want you to get a feel for this-"

"Aww, Grandma..."

"Nuh-uh, don't do that with me today, Gyps. You'll be here for thirty minutes, then I'll come get you for dinner, okay?"

"Okay."

"Beautiful. Thank you, angel."

And this is how Gypsy has her first experience behind the desk.

She isn't alone for long.

In fact, she's alone for exactly five minutes when the texts come; she's received two from Ashton and one from Luke and a picture from Mikey, telling her that they've landed in Sydney and they miss her already and it's never too late to fly her out.

Gypsy doesn't know how to respond, and she's sitting, staring at her phone wondering what to say and wishing that she didn't have to say anything at all.

She's wishing that she was just there.

Her bottom lip is between her teeth and her fingers are drumming the table, so naturally he sees her before she sees him.

He stands before the desk and smiles as she jumps. "Gypsy, right?"

She's staring and she knows it, but really, people like him are just unfair.

"Yes," she manages, because it's like staring into the sun; she'd like to look away and she knows she should, but she can't turn from the warmth of that smile between the short stubble of a beard.

He extends a hand, eyes squinting as he smiles again. "Francisco," he says, because she doesn't know that he already knows who she is and he isn't going to tell her-not yet, anyway.

Gypsy clears her head with a shake, regaining some of her composure and clasping his hand with her own. "Are you checking in?"

He laughs again, running his fingers through silky brown hair. "I look like a guest?"

"You look like a model," she replies honestly.

Francisco watches her with visible mirth. "Do I?" He teases and she realizes that not only is he Adonis, but he's foreign, too.

She nods. "You look like you've cat-walked right off the runway and stumbled into the first motel you found before you catch the first thing smoking out of here-if we're being honest."

And Francisco laughs again, mouth wide and eyes squinting and teeth flashing. He likes this girl; this Gypsy. "Well, I work here," he finishes, after Gypsy decides that she quite likes the sound of his laugh; that she quite likes this Francisco. "So unfortunately, you're wrong."

"You work here?"

He nods, "Yes."

Now, Gypsy can't understand these words.

"But-" she exclaims, and before she can ask why, there's a squeal and a honk and a whole slew of profanities that naturally cause both Gypsy and Francisco to peer out the window at a very curly-headed, very tall man as he clutches his chest and dodges more cars, making his way across the street and into the parking lot of the motel.

"Who's that?" Gypsy asks.

Francisco shrugs. "I don't know him."

"He doesn't stay here?"

"Not that I know."

He didn't. Not yet, at least.

So Gypsy turns towards the window again and watches as the man grabs one of the rings off his left hand, tugging on the sparkling band on his fourth finger before he hurls it into the street.

There are more honks and profanities and obscene gestures and then the man turns towards the office door.

He's headed inside.

He's coming in.

Gypsy whips her head to the computer and Francisco bids his farewell, leaving the lobby of the motel and pretending to be busy just like Gypsy is pretending to be busy so it doesn't appear to the man that she'd been staring at him as he walks inside.

He's in scuffed brown boots, skinny jeans skinny enough to rival Luke's, and a plaid shirt buttoned only halfway to reveal the two birds tattooed beneath his collar bones. He's got what looks to be a scarf wrapped around his long, curly brown hair like Ashton, and he's smiling a very bright dimpled smile that's a bit sheepish as he comes to the front desk and smiles again and leans his elbows on the wood.

"Hello," Gypsy says, looking up from the nothing she was doing on the computer into a face shiny with sweat and very bright green eyes.

"Hello," the man repeats in a deep voice. He's rather amused as Gypsy takes in the tiny beads bristling beneath the bandana-scarf, thing, whatever-that's tying back those wind-swept curls.

He sticks out his hand, and for the second time in a row Gypsy shakes a palm that swallows hers.

"I'm Harry Styles; call me Harry, and I'd like to check into a room."

-~*~-

Super excited to hear your thoughts on this story, guys. Initially, as I started writing it for Camp Nano, I didn't intend for it to be a fanfic, but considering how much I love 5sos's new album I had to name Gypsy's best friends "Ashton" and "Luke," and then "Francisco" needed to be my gardener and before I knew it I had "Harold," so why not write an au, right? Hehe...I'm going to update the cast list as I reveal characters so 1.) I don't give anything away and 2.) so if you're ever confused about who anyone is, you can just check there, okay? Okay. The cast list is in order of appearance.

Vote and comment and all of those great things. For those of you reading WAB2, I'm updating that tomorrow, so yay. *High fives all around.*