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It’s late Thursday night and the boys have just played a show.
“You fuckin’ stink,” Calum tells Ashton as they file into the dressing room.
“Thanks,” Ashton grins.
“God, you’re all sweaty,” Michael adds, and Ashton snorts because that is fucking rich coming from the guy whose sweat has disintegrated two shirts so far this tour.
“That’s how Luke likes me,” Ashton fires back, and Calum pulls a face whilst Michael laughs.
“What’s how I like you?” Luke asks, coming up behind Ashton and wrapping his arms around him, resting his chin on Ashton’s head.
“Sweaty and smelly,” Ashton tells him, tilting his head back as far as he can and looking up in a vain attempt to meet Luke’s eyes. Luke’s lips quirk up in a grin and he presses a quick kiss to Ashton’s head before letting him go.
“You’re into some weird shit, Luke Hemmings,” Calum tells him as he passes by, swatting at him with his sweat-soaked shirt. Luke dodges it expertly, flipping Calum off as he walks.
“Hey!” Ashton protests. “I’m not weird shit.” Michael, already glued to his phone, raises his eyebrows without looking up. “Tell them, Luke.”
“You’re not weird shit,” Luke says obediently, and Ashton beams at him.
“Someone’s getting laid later,” Michael mutters, and Luke blushes so fiercely Ashton wonders if there’s any blood left in the rest of his body.
“Jealous?” Ashton asks, chucking a hairbrush at Michael.
“You wish,” Calum says, resting his head on Michael’s shoulder.
-
“Wake up!” Michael yells into Ashton’s bunk, making Luke mumble a curse and lift his arm from Ashton’s waist.
“Cold,” Ashton protests, making grabby hands for Luke to put his arm back around Ashton, and squints at Michael. “Bastard.” Michael grins complacently.
“Get up. We’re going out,” Michael tells them.
“Who decided this?” Ashton demands.
“Calum and me,” Michael says.
“Why weren’t we consulted?”
“We didn’t want to go near your bunk in case you were deflowering our little Lukey.” Luke buries his face in Ashton’s shoulderblades.
“I’m not a twelve year old!” he says, but it’s muffled by Ashton’s skin.
“He says he’s not a twelve year old,” Ashton tells Michael helpfully. Michael pulls a shocked face.
“Then he’s out of the band,” he says.
“You’re out of the band,” Ashton says to Michael.
"You’re out of the band,” Luke says to Ashton.
“Calum!” Michael shouts. Ashton hears a vague yeah? from the back lounge. “You’re a one-man band now.”
“It’s all I ever wanted!” Calum yells back.
“At least someone’s happy,” Ashton says. “Go away, Mikey, we’re naked.”
“You did deflower him!” Michael yells, loud enough for probably every single person in the UK to hear.
“Yeah,” Ashton says, “about two years ago.”
“Ash!” Luke sounds mortified.
“It’s alright, Lukey,” Michael says, reaching over to ruffle Luke’s hair. “We can hear you every night anyway.” Luke groans pulls the blanket up over his face and Michael laughs, the sadistic bastard. “Get up, seriously. We’re going sightseeing.”
“Where are we?” Ashton asks.
“London,” Michael says. “You’ve got twenty minutes.”
-
Ashton manages to discourage Luke from having another shower, knowing they’ll be stuck on the bus until at least 2049 if he does. He throws a Green Day shirt at Luke and pulls on an All Time Low one himself, allowing himself one last lingering kiss with Luke before they head off the bus. Ashton knows it’s cliché as hell, but even now, two years on, kissing Luke is still a headrush, still leaves him dizzy and weak at the knees. He doesn’t know how Luke puts up with him.
“It’s so cold!” is the first thing Calum says to them, Michael’s arms wrapped around him.
“It’s England,” Luke says. “What were you expecting?”
“Radiant sunshine?” Calum tries.
“I’m here!” Ashton says, and all three boys groan. “C’mon, that was a good one. Luke, it was a good one, right?”
“I wish I could say yes,” Luke says, and Ashton pouts so Luke grins and kisses him swiftly, only thinking to check afterwards whether there’s anyone who might see them. Ashton feels a little giddy at that, though, that they’re doing something they shouldn’t be and that they might get caught.
(What can he say? He’s an exhibitionist at heart.)
“You guys,” Calum complains. “Stop it.”
“You just want someone to kiss,” Ashton says as Luke wraps his arm around Ashton’s waist, steady and familiar and strong. Calum pouts and then makes a kissy-face at Michael, who rolls his eyes but pecks him on the lips unwillingly.
“I’ve got someone to kiss,” Calum says smugly.
“Not like this,” Luke says, and then he’s sweeping Ashton off his feet, making him stifle an exceptionally masculine shriek as he’s pushed backwards, Luke’s hand strong on the small of his back, kissing him hard and deep and fierce. Ashton brings his hand up to rest on the nape of Luke’s neck gently, pulling him closer, and it seems like forever until they break apart, Luke bringing Ashton back to an upright position.
“That was like in the movies,” Michael says.
“That was sickening,” Calum says, but his eyes are soft and his voice betrays him.
“C’mon,” Luke says, lips quirking up in a smile. “We’ve got a city to explore.”
(Ashton needs Luke’s help balancing for at least another two hours after that kiss.)
-
“British Library.” Ashton scoffs at him.
“The British Library?” he asks incredulously. “We come all the way to London from Sydney, all this way, and you want to borrow a book?”
“Libraries are cool!” Calum says defensively, shielding his eyes from the sun that’s decided to come out from behind the clouds.
“Yeah, if you can read, Mr High School Drop-Out,” Ashton mutters. Calum swats him on the arm, hard enough to earn an ow! but not hard enough to leave a bruise.
“We’re all high school drop-outs,” Calum reminds him.
“I got the best results in my HSC,” Luke points out.
“Great. Do you want to join Cal at the library?” Michael asks sarcastically.
“Well, where else do you want to go?” Calum demands.
“Big Ben."
“The London Eye.”
“Covent Garden.”
“A garden?” Everyone rounds on Luke who shrinks back slightly.
“Covent Garden. It- I was just looking up stuff online, and it looked interesting…” he trails off with a shrug.
“Right. So first Cal wants to visit a library, then Luke wants to visit a garden. I didn’t realise I was in a band of pensioners,” Michael says sarcastically, chucking his spoon down with a clatter.
“No!” Luke says. “It’s Covent Garden. It’s like, a market thing. But not really a market. It’s hard to explain.”
“Well, it sounds better than visiting a clock and visiting a ferris wheel,” Ashton says with a shrug. “We in?”
“I’m in,” Michael says with a shrug, because he’s always in. “Cal, are you in? Or do you want us to pick up your Zimmer frame and bring it to the British Library for you?”
“Fuck you,” Calum scowls. “I’m in.”
-
“When you said a market thing but not really a market, did you know what you were talking about?” Michael asks as they wander into the square. They don’t even look out of place here – their faded band shirts and ripped skinny jeans look totally normal. Even Michael’s hair looks like it belongs.
“This is amazing,” Calum says, gaze following three people with blue, bubblegum pink and bright purple hair. “I’ve never seen so many Michael Clifford lookalikes in one place.”
“Shut up,” Michael says. “Where’s the market?”
“Uh,” Luke says. “There’s like. There’s shops around the side, and like, inside, but the stuff that we’d want to look at is in this little-“ he cuts himself off, waving his hand at a building to the side which is overflowing with stalls.
“How do you know what I’d want to look at?” Calum says mock-defensively.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure we can find you another dildo here,” Michael says, patting Calum’s arm. “Hey, it’s All Time Low!”
“Where?!” Ashton spins around wildly.
“On that poster, you idiot. God, you’re the most excitable little fanboy I’ve ever seen,” Michael says.
“You wear your own band’s merch,” Ashton says.
“So do you,” Michael says.
“So do I,” Luke puts in.
“And me,” Calum adds.
“Right, so we’re all losers,” Ashton concludes. “Let’s go look at some All Time Low posters.”
“Can we buy them?” Luke says as they amble over, Michael racing ahead as he spots some band shirts.
“Sure, if you want me to steal them,” Calum says. Luke pouts. “Oh, c’mon, Lukey, don’t give me that pouty face,” Calum groans. “You’re cute as hell when you do that.”
“Who’s cute as hell?” Michael says, appearing from behind a rack of Nirvana shirts.
“Luke,” Ashton informs him.
“Oh,” Michael says knowledgeably, “is he doing the pouty thing?” Ashton and Calum nod. “Yeah, that’s cute,” Michael confirms before disappearing back into the world of Nirvana shirts.
“Stop calling me cute,” Luke says petulantly.
“Why?” Ashton says, pressing closer to his side, waiting for Luke to wrap his arm around Ashton’s waist. It only takes Luke a second.
“Because it’s embarrassing,” Luke says. “I’m seventeen. I’m manly.”
“Sure,” Calum scoffs. “Every man sleeps with a toy penguin in their bed. And with their boyfriend. Spooning him. Every night.”
“A good boyfriend does,” Ashton shoots back.
“If I buy these shirts,” Michael interrupts, emerging from behind the clothes rack again with his arms laden with shirts, “how much money will we have left to finish the tour?”
“None,” Ashton says, doing a quick calculation.
“I don’t trust you,” Michael tells him. “You nearly failed Maths.”
“Nearly being the operative word,” Ashton says.
“Genius boy,” Michael says, and Luke raises his eyebrows. “You work it out.”
“You don’t need seven Nirvana shirts, Mikey,” Luke says, eyeing the load in Michael’s arms. Michael frowns.
“I don’t,” he agrees, “but I want them.”
“If Mikey can have all of those, can I get the All Time Low poster?” Calum asks.
“Can we have it as a communal poster at least?” Luke asks.
“Do we have anything that isn’t communal?” Ashton asks.
“My dick,” Calum announces proudly, causing an elderly couple nearby to shoot them strange looks.
“We can sort that out,” Ashton says dismissively, kind of liking the way Luke’s arm tightens around his waist. He twists in Luke’s grasp so he’s facing Luke, arms looped around Luke’s neck with Luke’s around his waist, and kisses him, just because he can.
“Oh, knock it off,” Michael says exasperatedly, causing the two to break apart. Ashton stays close, though, listens to Luke’s ragged breath and looks at his parted lips and thinks I did that. “God, you guys have been at it like rabbits every day for two years and you still can’t keep your hands off each other. Disgusting.”
“Jealous,” Ashton teases again; a taunt he’s had to use quite a lot recently, for want of a better one. “You’re jealous Lashton is better than Malum.”
“Excuse me?” Calum shouts from the corner of the stall selling posters. “Malum is the best ship.”
“It’s not even real!” Ashton yells back.
“How d’you know?” Calum says. “Maybe I gave Michael a secret handjob in the bus last week.”
“You give secret handjobs?” Michael says. “Next time, can I actually get one?”
“Of course, babe,” Calum says in an overly-camp fashion, prancing back over to the assembled boys with a bag and a rolled up poster before immediately spotting another. “Ooh, Blink.”
-
They go for dinner in a small pub overlooking the Thames in a place called Greenwich. The streets are cobbled and the houses are small, reminding Ashton a little bit of the seaside towns he’d had to study for Geography. It’s pretty, though, pastel-coloured houses left and right and the sun setting over the city on the other side of the glittering water. It’s nice.
“Is fish & chips an acceptable dinner in England?” Michael asks, peering over his menu at the boys.
“When has that ever stopped you before?” Ashton says.
“Are you calling me fat?” Michael says, mock-scandalised.
“Don’t listen to him, petal,” Calum says, leaning over and pinching Michael’s cheek. “You’re gorgeous.”
“You’re weird,” Michael tells him, rubbing at his cheek.
“You like me that way,” Calum says.
“You’re into some weird shit,” Ashton says, seizing the opportunity.
“I am,” Calum says freely. “But you’re an exhibitionist, so it’s alright.”
“Fuck you,” Ashton mutters. Sometimes we know everything about each other is a step too far. “At least I’m not into, like, beastiality.”
“Neither is anyone else here,” Michael says.
“Except Luke,” Calum says. “We don’t know about Luke. He refused to tell us his kinks. C’mon, Lukey, we’re all friends here. You can tell us.”
“No!” Luke hides behind his menu.
“Ash? Ash, c’mon, you’ve got to tell us at least one.”
“Ash!” Luke practically squeaks. “No! Don’t!”
“C’mon, Lukey,” Ashton says, tilting his head to the side. “Just one. Just tell them one. Keep their perverted minds satisfied.”
“No!” Luke protests. “I like to keep myself mysterious.”
“You’re not Zayn Malik.”
“God, if you were, I’d be fighting Ashton to get my hands on you,” Calum says longingly.
“More of a Jack Barakat kind of many myself,” Michael says, and Ashton slaps a hand onto his chest.
“A man after me own heart,” he says in an awful Scottish accent and Michael bats his eyelids at Ashton. Luke seizes the distraction to mumble something vaguely, hoping nobody notices – which ,of course, Calum being Calum, he does, and his head snaps back to gaze at Luke calculatingly.
“What was that you said?” he asks.
“I said, I’m into voyeurism,” Luke mumbles, and Calum blinks at him.
“Should have guessed, really,” Michael says. “Exhibitionist and voyeur. Made for each other.”
(Calum doesn’t stop laughing until his food arrives and stops him.)
-
It’s been a long day, and Ashton’s glad when Luke snuggles up to him in the cramped bunk they now share, body warm against Ashton’s, arm comforting around Ashton’s waist.
“I’m glad I’ve got you, y’know,” Ashton whispers because he can’t word things in the way he wants to, and it takes so long for Luke to reply that Ashton wonders whether he’s already fallen asleep.
“I love you too.”