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“Are these pants too much?” Michael asks, standing in front of a mirror awkwardly twisting his hips.
The guys have gathered in a shared part of their dressing quarters for a pre-show drink. Ashton and Calum are sitting on the couch doing some very important work on their social media after finishing a fantastic, completely nonsensical TikTok. Well, they were both sitting. Ashton is still sat on one end of the couch, but Calum has sprawled out across the rest of it and plopped his feet in Ashton’s lap, letting out a grunt as he did so to notify Ashton that he’s simply giving Ashton’s arms a better angle to respond to his fans with the sassiest thing he can muster up.
Ashton sets his phone on the arm rest to properly examine Michael’s pants, which kind of look like he’s rolled around in a pile of Polaroids. But, like, in a really cool way. Michael can basically pull off anything. Luke enters from his dressing room with a beverage in hand, tossing a compliment Michael’s way before finding a speaker for music.
“I think they’re sweet,” Ashton affirms, “I like your accessories, too.”
Michael ignores him. “Calum, what do you think?”
Ashton takes slight offense that his and Luke’s opinions weren’t sufficient.
Ashton glances over at Calum for his opinion as Michael holds up a different pair of pants in front of his reflection, contemplating changing. Calum’s eyebrows raise slightly, admiring Michael’s outfit; he likes it. He’s been into outfits that move well on stage, Michael’s chosen pants being no exception. Calum hums, agreeing with the rest of the positive reviews, before returning to his phone. Calum’s usually a bit more hyped before a show, Ashton thinks, but they’ve still got some time to go.
“Cal,” Michael turns away from the mirror awaiting his response, cocking an eyebrow at Calum.
“He said he likes them; they’ve got good movement,” Ashton supplies. Didn’t Calum already say that?
“He didn’t say anything,” Luke deadpans from his corner of the room. At this, Ashton looks back at Calum to fact check this. Calum simply looks up at him with a blank expression before turning his head to Michael.
“Yeah, they look good, Mike.” Calum stretches his arms above his head before pulling himself off of the couch and silently moving towards the door, clearly going for a smoke. Ashton grabs his drink and follows him; they usually take smoke breaks together.
“Where are you guys headed?” Luke quips absentmindedly.
Ashton responds on both his and Calum’s behalf, since the latter is already halfway out the door, with a simple: “Outside.”
-
Usually the guys keep to themselves on the tour bus, not having a ton of energy to spare after late nights and constant time zone shifts. They’ve all learned how to create the essence of privacy after so many years of cohabitation, and they all need a breather from each other occasionally.
Tonight, though, they’ve all made themselves comfortable in the back room, periodically breaking the comfortable silence with bits of conversation. On one couch, Luke and a pile of blankets that’s suspiciously shaped like Michael are both enveloped in their Switches. Ashton is lounged on the other with his laptop playing a random episode of Below Deck; shitty reality TV is exactly the caliber of slop his mind is equipped to consume on such an insufficient amount of sleep. Calum is draped against Ashton’s side, resting his cheek on Ashton’s shoulder to watch with him.
Ashton’s never been very big on physical touch, usually opting for verbal expressions of love as a self-proclaimed ‘wordsmith of sorts.’ But growing up, their band didn’t have a strong concept of personal space, particularly Calum. Ashton’s gotten used to it, though, understanding Calum’s way of closely orbiting the band as a method of communication.
“I don’t really get the hype,” Michael says as Ashton pulls himself out of his thoughts, tuning back into their conversation. “And why do people need so many of them?”
“I know. I swear every time I’m shopping and pass by a box of Needoh’s at the check out, they’re always gone,” Luke agrees with a yawn.
“It’s like fidget spinners all over again,” Ashton contributes.
“Fidget spinners were way cooler, though.”
“You’re only saying that because you had a collection,” Ashton informs Michael, laughing softly so he doesn’t jostle Calum too much. Calum can notoriously sleep almost anywhere, but Ashton knows he’s still awake, recognizing the pace of Calum’s breathing as that of consciousness. And because Calum snores like a motherfucker, but he’s silent at the moment.
Calum hums quietly, reminding Ashton of the time that he and Calum took turns trying to balance one of Michael’s fidget spinners on their faces. Calum got it to spin on his nose for a good thirty seconds, a true feat of grace and precision. Ashton giggles more at the memory.
“Something funny?” Luke drawls, not looking up from his game.
“It’s nothing, just Calum,” Ashton asserts.
“Calum didn’t do anything.” Luke looks up to examine him. “He’s asleep.”
“I did your mum,” Calum mumbles, eyes still closed. Luke lets out a breathy laugh and rubs his eyes.
“Lua has more maturity than you and she’s literally two years old,” Michael says, adjusting the blanket draped over his head.
“Well,” Ashton starts, “It may be due to earlier myelination-”
“Shut up,” Michael interjects. “I’m off the clock.”
Ashton grins and feels Calum softly tap his arm with the back of his finger. He knows Calum wants to turn in for the night; he’s watched Calum’s eyelashes periodically flutter shut for the last ten minutes. Calum could just get up and go to bed, but Ashton knows he doesn’t want to leave the three of them and ruin the moment.
Ashton decisively closes his laptop and turns his head into Calum’s curls, momentarily breathing in his shampoo.
Michael looks up from his game, asking: “You going to bed, Ash?”
“Yeah, Calum’s tired.” He pats Calum’s leg before shifting to get up. They both slowly stand and grab their things to leave, Calum trailing behind him half asleep.
Before climbing into their bunks, Calum squeezes Ashton’s shoulder as he bids him goodnight, silently thanking him for leaving with him. Ashton’s smile to Calum acts as ‘you’re welcome.’
-
Are you guys good for breakfast tomorrow at 8
Ashton turns his attention away from his Instagram Reels to watch Calum hastily swipe away Luke’s text notification, bringing his phone even closer to his face. His eyebrows are furrowed in an intense concentration. Ashton takes this as his cue to respond in the group chat for the both of them.
Yeah
Cal is too
A reply comes from Michael a few minutes later:
did calum lose his phone?
or his fingers
not sure which would be more devastating for him
Calum rolls his eyes and rids his screen of notifications once again. He slowly drags a finger across his phone before muttering an assortment of curse words under his breath. Ashton translates this scene into the group chat to quiet Michael’s concerns.
He’s using both his phone and his fingers to play me back in mini golf
Ashton then receives a notification from Calum. He’s overjoyed to discover he’s winning by two strokes. Instead of responding for himself in the group chat, Calum uses Ashton’s turn as an opportunity to flip through the TV stations that the hotel offers. He’s simultaneously scrolling on TikTok, making sure to maximize his screen time. He lands on a movie, mumbling something about it being a good one. Ashton has no clue what it is, but Calum has seen virtually every movie in existence.
They all have their own hotel rooms—only the finest for the biggest boyband in the world—but GamePigeon wins are far more satisfying when you can witness the demise of your opponent in person. It’s become routine for Calum to knock on Ashton’s door after a shower and a sufficient amount of post-show decompressing.
Touring is different now that Michael and Luke are both dads. The first few hotel stays of the tour, Calum would tell Ashton that he couldn’t get his TV to work or that the AC was too cold. Now he just says “hey” and walks into the room before Ashton could attempt to tell him otherwise. Calum never needed to give a reason, though. Ashton knows the plethora of sentences and thoughts shoved into the word ‘hey’ every time his hotel room is breached: it’s too quiet, Calum’s tired, Michael and Luke are always busy. Ashton is accessible and provides a sense of familiarity and comfort in every foreign location. And, it’s lonely.
When they were younger, the band would go out and party more often than not. Ashton still goes through party phases, but the tour has been taking it out of him recently, and he’s come to treasure these moments with Calum. They still appreciate a night of tearing up the town, but sometimes a night spent lounging on a hotel bed playing fake digital golf can do wonders for the mind and body. Less parties and golf. Fuck, that makes them sound so old.
“Ash,” Calum says, breaking Ashton’s train of thought without glancing up from his doomscrolling. Ashton mumbles an apology; he’s taken too long to play Calum back. He looks down at his phone to find a black screen, realizing he must’ve been staring at Calum long enough for his phone to lock. He remedies this by quickly finishing the round and sending it back to Calum before checking the messages he’s missed from his band.
A curt thumbs-up from Luke, and from Michael: wow, don’t get too wild.
Calum actually did respond this time.
stfu ur prolly watching bluey rn
During Ashton’s last turn—they’re tied now, it all comes down to this—Calum grabs his keycard and moves for the door, leaving his phone on the bed. He’ll be back in a minute, then. Ashton sends off his final score to Calum, awaiting the results once Calum plays. He flicks the bedside lamps off, leaving the TV to softly illuminate the room. It’s too late for lights.
When Calum returns, it’s with a bag of Sour Punch Bites in hand. He reassumes his spot on the bed and plops the candy in between them, inviting Ashton to eat some. He knows Calum’s favorite is the strawberry one, so out of courtesy, Ashton eats the other two flavors. Calum opens Mini Golf, and Ashton shuffles over closer to watch. It is that serious.
nice try, we’re watching my little pony
studying up on the magic of friendship
Calum swipes away Michael’s messages, huffing a laugh.
wait guys what pony do you think we all are
i think ashtons applejack
“He’s kinda right,” Calum says, before turning his phone on Do Not Disturb for the remainder of his turn.
Ashton considers this. “Is she the country one?” Calum hums in confirmation. “Isn’t one of them really snooty and stuff?”
“Rarity.”
“That’s Luke,” Ashton decides, making Calum snort. “And how come you know all their names?”
Calum shrugs. “Babysitting Lua. It’s a good show.” The image of Calum with Michael’s kids on his lap absolutely locked in on My Little Pony makes him giggle. His smile immediately drops, though: Calum won Mini Golf by one point.
“Motherfucker,” Ashton grunts. Calum just smiles at him and sends back a game of Darts. Ashton always wins Darts; he thinks Calum sent it as reconciliation.
Ashton watches Calum turn his notifications back on and finds the group chat again to respond to Michael’s last messages.
luke is rarity fs
i feel like im pinkie pie
Holding a strawberry gummy between his teeth, Calum types out, ur discord. Ashton grabs his phone to look up who that is, giggling when his search loads. Ashton sends one of the pictures to the group chat and tosses his phone on the comforter. He rubs his eyes and relaxes into the bed.
“Did you wanna sleep?” Calum asks, setting his phone down, too.
“Not particularly,” Ashton replies. “Just existing. You don’t need to go.”
Calum scoots down the bed a bit and turns on his side to face Ashton, plucking another candy from the bag that remains between them. His eyes dance over Ashton’s face before he reaches out and swipes underneath Ashton’s lower lashes, presumably at the remainder of eyeliner that didn’t come off during his shower.
“You still have some too,” Ashton informs Calum before continuing: “I’ve accepted it as a part of my face now, I think.” Calum responds with a small smile, his lips stained a vivid pink from the gummies. Ashton realizes his own mouth must look ridiculous, tongue likely coated in a horrific shade of teal. “Your lips are red.”
Calum doesn’t reply, just observes Ashton’s lips. Ashton’s always had a way of reading Calum’s body language. He’s made a habit of monitoring Calum during interviews and photoshoots, knowing he’s too reserved to speak up if he needs something. Though what Calum lacks in voice he makes up for in physicality, and Ashton enjoys cataloguing Calum’s nuances, memorizing them over the years like a secondary language.
Currently, Calum’s eyes tracing Ashton’s lips is primarily informing him that they are, in fact, blue. The energy shift in the room has also put Ashton in a sort of trance, thinking about both of their mouths. Ashton rolls to face Calum, slowly drawing a relaxed hand to his jaw and pressing their lips together, carefully watching for any signs that he’s misread Calum.
Calum lets out a pleased sigh and shifts slightly onto his back, pulling Ashton to lay halfway on top of him. Ashton, remembering their midnight snack is lodged between them, reaches a hand between them and tosses the lip-dyeing, homo-infused bag of candy to the foot of the bed. He returns to Calum for a more real kiss, Ashton smiles slightly at the taste of strawberry on Calum’s lips.
It’s not the first time this has happened, and it won’t be the last. They’ve never really talked about it because they’ve never felt the need to. Ashton knows Calum, knows that life gets lonely and that they care about each other in a way that’s deeper than words.
It’s comfortable, kissing Calum. Neither of them have to worry about both smelling faintly of cigarettes. They both have to stay awake and get up at the same ungodly hours. It feels strangely easy to have each other like this.
Calum never makes it back to his room, the two of them instead pass out on Ashton’s bed together. They’re consequently both late for breakfast the next morning, much to Luke’s dismay. Ashton was able to smooth it over for the both of them though, letting Calum stay silent as he scanned the menu, likely for coffee. Calum’s not much of a talker in the mornings. Well, he’s not much of a talker at all, really. But Ashton’s never had trouble understanding him.