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Ashton finds Calum in the dressing room.
In hindsight, that should’ve been the first place where he went looking for him, but Michael insisted he saw Calum smoking outside and so, Ashton wasted fifteen minutes wandering through the parking lot outside the set, looking for him.
Only for Calum to be here, standing in front of the three-way mirror, surveying the clothes he’s going to be wearing for their next performance.
And Ashton has to pause by the door, take a moment to un-swallow his tongue, and appreciate the view.
He’s actually already seen the outfit Calum’s wearing right now. He was with him when he picked it out of racks upon racks of wardrobe possibilities, and he did his fair share of staring then, at Calum in his baby pink shirt and short plaid pleated shirt, but the sight in front of him is still enough to make Ashton’s breath catch in his throat, to make his brain go Oh my God, that’s my boyfriend? All of that is actually mine?
The answer to those questions being yes it’s still a little baffling to him, and his eyes dart frantically over Calum’s body, taking in every one of his features, like he’s going to suddenly disappear. He looks him up and down, from his muscly thighs to the enticing hint of stomach peeking between the waistband of his skirt and the hem of his shirt all the way up to the pink fabric stretching over his back. Calum notices him, leaning against the door, really making a show of ogling him and he lets out a short giggly snort. “Why are you creeping back there, old man?”
Ashton blinks, tearing his eyes away from the skirt, the shortest one he’s seen Calum in yet, barely hitting mid-thigh, to find his boyfriend grinning at him through the mirror. Ashton grins back. “I’m committing this outfit to memory before we go back out, it can get very distracting, sitting behind you on stage with you looking like that.”
That only makes Calum grin wider, his cheeks taking on a nice flush, the way they do whenever Ashton compliments him. He always acts all flustered, but Ashton knows he loves a good compliment, and he will never shy away from praising him every chance he gets.
Calum does a quick spin in front of the mirror, the skirt fanning out, and faces Ashton, striking a pose, hip cocked to one side, hands on his waist. “Stare away, then,” he says with a smug smile, eyes sparkling with glee.
Ashton bites his lip, unable to keep his eyes from darting down again to where the skirt rides up slightly against one of his thighs. “Oh, don’t tempt me, babe,” he says, moving his eyes slowly over the length of him, giving Calum the attention he clearly enjoys. When his eyes make it back to his face his cheeks are bright red, in a way that’s both endearing and enticing. Ashton wants nothing more than to walk up to him and kiss him, rough him up a bit. He thinks Cal would be up for it, if the way he’s squirming under Ashton’s stare is any indication.
Too bad they don’t actually have time for that.
Ashton sighs loudly at the thought. “I was actually looking for you because they’re calling us back out, it’s time to do 2011,” he tries to sound more enthusiastic about it, holding his fists up in celebration and grinning when he says, “first live performance, let’s go!”
He expects Calum to match his enthusiasm, but instead he notices the way he hesitates, reaching up to hang a hand from his neck.
“You’re not nervous, are you?”
Calum shrugs, voice small when he says, “maybe a bit, yeah,” he pauses to bite at his bottom lip, before he adds, “I know we already did Amnesia and Ghost of You-”
“And you did great in both,” Ashton says as genuinely as he can, “in Jet Black Heart, too.”
Calum looks down bashfully, lips tugging up in a soft smile. “Thanks babe, but I’ve done those songs several times before, this will be the first time we do 2011 live in forever,” he shrugs again, “and I know we’ve rehearsed a lot and if we mess up, if I mess up, we can just do it again, but, I don’t know, I want us to nail it from the very first time, I want it to be great.”
“It will be great,” Ashton says, not just to quiet Calum’s doubts, but because he actually believes it. “You’ve been amazing in every rehearsal, honestly we’ve all been fucking phenomenal,” he moves closer, until he’s standing right in front of Calum, and takes his hands, runs his thumbs over the spots where he knows his tattoos are. “We sound the best we ever had and I know we’re gonna kill it today, you are gonna kill it today, Cal.” He instinctively leans forward to end the statement with a kiss, to really drive the point home, though mostly it’s just because he wants to kiss Calum, but he frowns when he realizes Calum’s mouth is a little more out of reach than usual.
He looks down at their feet. His are bare while Calum’s wearing his Docs, making him taller than Ashton by a few inches, which are rudely getting in the way of him kissing his boyfriend.
“You might want to lose the frown, if you want me to believe you,” Calum jokes with a half smile, even though it seems like he believed Ashton, looking more relaxed at his words.
Still frowning, at Calum’s neck because that’s what’s in front of him at the moment, Ashton mumbles, “You’re taller than me.”
It startles a laugh from Calum, a hint of amusement flickering across his face. “I’ve always been taller than you.”
“Barely,” Ashton huffs, gesturing at the space between his toes and the Docs, “It’s the shoes.”
“Actually, it’s your lack of shoes,” Calum tells him with a hint of a smile, and Ashton sticks his tongue out at him. “Are you sure you don’t wanna put some on? The last thing we want is someone to step on your toes.”
Ashton wrinkles his nose because, “Luke already did, the clumsy fucker, had to tell him to keep his distance.”
“What about me?” Calum asks, approaching slowly, carefully, “Do I need to keep my distance?”
Ashton eyes his boots wearily. Getting stepped on by those would surely hurt like a bitch, but he could never ask Calum to keep away. Quickly, he shakes his head no, which is good considering Calum’s moved closer and now he’s standing very close, so close that Ashton actually has to tilt his head back to look at him.
Something about it makes Calum grin, eyes crinkling adorably. Ashton feels the urge to kiss him again, as usual, the smallest things making him want to kiss Calum, and he sighs. Normally, he would just lean in, maybe tilt his head up the slightest bit, but now he actually has to go on his tiptoes to do it, his arms coming up to wrap around Calum’s neck, both for balance and to force him to lean down a little, make it easier for him. Calum comes willingly, hands moving to rest on Ashton’s hips, keeping him solidly in place as he returns the kiss.
The angle is weird and Ashton’s not used to it, but it doesn’t bother him that much, not when Calum’s lips are familiar enough. It does become a little tiring though, being on his tiptoes for so long and he eventually pulls away, falling back on his heels and opening his eyes to watch Calum chase after his lips.
“I don’t like this,” Ashton says, licking his lips.
Calum’s eyes follow the movement before meeting his, face pulling into a frown.
“You don’t like kissing me?” He pouts and Ashton runs his thumb over his bottom lip, chuckling softly.
“I love kissing you,” he assures him, “I don’t like having to go on my tiptoes to do it, or hurting my neck.”
Calum snorts, rolling his eyes with a fond smile, “You’re so dramatic,” he says, “I kind of like it, actually.”
“What, do you have a thing for short guys or something?” Ashton huffs. He knows he’s not short, not really, but there are three things the boys like to constantly tease him about and they’re his age, his height and the stupid purple shirt he wrongly decided to wear on the first day he met them, so he’s developed sort of a complex.
“I have a thing for you,” he says and Ashton rolls his eyes, even though he feels red climbing up his cheeks at his words, no matter how cheesy they are. “I do like being able to do this, though,” Calum adds, pressing forward, his hands still on Ashton’s hips, and making him retreat until his back bumps up against the wall. He crowds Ashton against it, making him feel like he’s surrounded by Calum entirely, and he has to admit he doesn’t hate the feeling that much. It actually has his heart beating rapidly, especially when one of Calum’s hands flattens itself against the wall beside Ashton’s head, and the other hooks itself in the belt loop of his pants.
Then Calum leans down and slots their lips together, kissing him slowly and Ashton melts against the wall, going pliant under Calum’s touch. Now it’s probably Calum’s neck that’s complaining, but he isn’t letting that stop him, biting gently, insistently, on Ashton’s lips, and Ashton is happy to just stand there and let him, while thinking that maybe Calum’s right, maybe this isn’t so bad. He doesn’t have a thing for feeling short, but he does like how, this way, Calum’s the only thing he can see, touch, feel.
On instinct, Ashton’s hands find their way to Calum’s hair, fingers running through the soft curls, not caring that he’s messing it up. Not even if he knows they’re about to go on camera and that, if they keep this up, everyone who watches the performance will notice the puffy lips and the tousled hair and they will know what they were doing before they yelled Action!
They’re both so caught up in the kiss, so caught up in each other, that they don’t pull away even if they know they have somewhere to be, they don’t pull away even when the door to the dressing room flies open, they pull away only when they hear Luke groan dramatically and yell, “Michael, I found them!”
Then they hear Michael’s voice, getting closer, “Wait, they’re in the dressing room, why are they in the- ew, guys, we said no fucking in the dressing room!” He wails, his face pulling into a grimace.
Calum snorts, “We’re not fucking, Michael.”
“Well, it looks like you just did,” Michael insists, grimacing still, eyes darting between the two of them. “So you might want to fix yourselves up before we go on stage.”
Ashton glances at Calum and he silently agrees with Michael, his lips are puffy and red, looking thoroughly kissed, and his cheeks are flushed, and thanks to Ashton’s fingers, his curls are messy.
Ashton can’t begin to imagine how he looks, probably like he was just kissed stupid by his boyfriend. Which he was.
And he was caught by his best friends, too.
Feeling a blush spreading through his face, Ashton tucks his shirt back in and tries to fix his own rumpled hair, brushing the curls back, but if Luke and Michael’s disapproving looks mean anything, it doesn’t help much.
“We’ll tell them you have the jitters and buy you some time,” Luke tells them, dragging Michael back out. Right before closing the door, he adds, “just, please don’t start making out again.”
Once Calum and him are alone again, Ashton clears his throat. “So, not feeling nervous anymore?” He asks, noticing that Cal looks far more relaxed than he did before, far more smug, too.
“No, I feel great, actually,” he answers, leaning forward and kissing Ashton’s forehead, the action demanding no real effort from him.
“You’re really enjoying it, aren’t you,” Ashton asks, looking up at Calum, “being this taller than me?”
Calum’s wink is answer enough. “You seemed to be enjoying it too, just now.” And Ashton would be lying if he said he hadn’t, especially when he hasn’t been able to shake off the fluttery feeling that came from being pinned between Calum and the wall, from Calum leading and maneuvering him around.
“It’s not so bad, I guess,” he says, shrugging casually, but, thanks to Calum’s grin, it’s obvious that his boyfriend can see right through him, that he knows Ashton doesn’t actually mind the more prominent height difference between them, that he kind of, sort of, maybe likes it, after all.
***
Later, after they get through the first performance of 2011, as they stand there, Ashton between Luke and Calum, which surely only makes him look shorter, all of them covered in glitter and grinning triumphantly at each other and their crew, Calum pulls Ashton to his side, tilting his head just barely to kiss his temple, because he’s at the perfect height to do so, and Ashton thinks that yeah, he quite likes the height difference, after all.