Archive of Our Own

It starts the first night of the tour, and neither of them expects it.

They’re high on adrenaline, all four of them, which results in loud shouting and screaming backstage like they’re seventeen and experiencing this high for the first time again, and they might as well be. Calum should only speak for himself but he’s pretty confident he can speak for all of them saying that after two years without being able to play in front of their audience, this feels like a new beginning.

So yeah, that means they’re acting like teenagers blasting music and jumping around in their dressing room, celebrating a great show and their first night back out there before they have to get back to the tour bus and on the road for a couple hours.

Calum tries to take it all in, the sparkles in Luke’s eyes and the way Michael can’t sit still with excitement and the loud giggles Ashton keeps letting out, happy and carefree. No one needs to know it’s the last part that clings to his mind harder, shoving its sweet claws in it so it’s the only thing he can see.

He figures by the time they get on the bus he’s as high on Ashton’s laugh as he is on the show, and that’s the only way he can explain it. 

‘It’ being somehow ending up with Ashton’s mouth on his and Ashton’s hand slipping down the back of his pants as he presses him against the window of the back lounge, ass hanging off the too small counter. 

Luke and Michael said they were ready to lay down not long after they started driving, sometime in the last thirty minutes. Ashton claimed to be too far gone to rest until they got to the hotel, and Calum is fucking whipped so he claimed the same thing blindly.

Somewhere between singing along to more tunes and laughing so hysterically at one of Ashton’s lame jokes that he had to bend over to hold his aching stomach, Calum ended up with his face hiding in the crook of Ashton’s neck, then Ashton’s laugh had rung closer to his ear and his hand had felt heavier on his hip, choking Calum up mid chuckle, and now here they are.

Calum’s whining into Ashton’s mouth, his hand is locked in Ashton’s hair and thighs wrapped around his waist, to keep him close, closer, despite his heart screaming don’t do this, don’t break me now. Because all Calum can focus on in this moment is the hazy feeling surrounding him, drunk on Ashton’s touch and attention.

Rushed, heated questions of “is this okay?” and “can I touch you?” are met with muffled yes’ es and hips grinding into each other, and then Calum is biting down hard on Ashton’s lip as calloused fingers wrap around him. Somehow he hadn’t realised he was hard up until this moment, but now he feels like the faintest touch could send him off, and it does soon enough.

If Calum weren’t fully blissed out he’d be embarrassed by how fast he comes, for someone who has sex fairly often and who’s often praised and thanked for his stamina. But he’s only able to bear a few minutes of Ashton stroking him expertly and mouthing down his jaw before he’s sent over the edge, gasping on a silent, surprised moan.

He doesn’t even realise his nails are biting crescent moons into the skin of Ashton’s shoulder, not until Ashton is hissing as he takes himself in hand and his arm around Calum’s waist tightens its hold, curses escaping his burning lips as his breathing gets more and more laboured.

Everything still feels like a fever dream when Ashton has finally joined him and they’re slumped against each other, sweating and vibrating all over in the aftershocks. Calum isn’t processing anything, or maybe he’s processing everything, but he just tunes it out.

Tunes out the softness of Ashton’s naked skin under his hands, the knowledge of the secret noises Ashton makes when someone’s giving him pleasure, the scary feeling bubbling in his chest at the realisation that he was the one to do that.

He tunes it out, and when Ashton mumbles something about going to take a shower before the trip is over and they have to get to their hotel, Calum lets himself pretend that he hasn’t possibly ruined everything.

They don’t talk about it the next day.

It’s not really what Calum had in mind; he spends an hour or two tossing and turning before he manages to fall asleep that night, mentally kicking himself for having let Ashton in in such an intimate, vulnerable way. For letting Ashton see him come undone by his hands, for not heeding his own warning about broken hearts and strings attached.

Which was stupid, because the strings were always attached, with Ashton, they were from the start. At first they were just tied together, but somewhere along the way they got entangled, and he didn’t realise until trying to get himself to escape seemed like too much of a hassle. 

And now here he is after a few years, getting himself even more tangled up in Ashton Irwin than he already was just because he couldn’t get his poor hands up and push Ashton off of him. But how could he, when this is what he’s been wanting for so long?

“Sleep well?” Ashton says when he meets them last downstairs for breakfast. He ruffles Luke and Calum’s hair and then pats Michael’s shoulder before taking his seat next to him, right across Calum.

Calum’s scalp is still tingling from Ashton’s touch, nerve endings on high alert despite the mostly routine gesture. Because all he can think about is Ashton’s fingers in his hair last night, before they travelled to his waist where they stayed put for the remainder of the encounter. They didn’t leave any actual marks, but Calum still felt the phantom grip when he woke up this morning. 

Fuck, is this what he’s done to himself? To them both? Has he rendered himself completely unable to handle Ashton’s friendly, platonic displays of affection?

“Honestly,” Michael says through a yawn, blinking Calum out of his thoughts. “Thought sleeping alone for the first time in two years would wreck me, but two nights in I feel like I’m handling it well enough.”

“You are so lovesick, dude, I still can’t believe it,” Calum says, a chuckle tumbling out of his mouth. 

“I would hope so, I’m fucking married to her!”

“I know, I know. Just feels like you’re still in your honeymoon phase, it’s pretty impressive. And disgustingly cute.”

Michael rolls his eyes with a smile and Luke laughs lightly, although Calum knows he must be feeling a similar sort of loneliness. Ashton just pats Michael’s hand before pouring himself some coffee.

“But you’ll see her in a couple weeks when she joins us, yeah? Won’t be sleeping alone for too long.”

And this, this is another thing. Ashton’s caring nature has always been a soft spot of Calum’s, and he’s never been jealous about it being turned towards someone else because he’s not that kind of dumb, except today he might be. There’s a voice in his head screaming about how Ashton should be touching his hand softly and should be saying kind and reassuring things to him.

He locks the thought away quickly, drowns it in his coffee with his biscuit. The conversation takes another turn to the day’s activities at the table, but it fades into the background after a minute.

It’s hard to  focus when Ashton’s smiling bright and lively across from him, a giggle escaping him every now and then. It’s hard to focus when Ashton sends smiles his way, smiles that don’t betray what they did last night at all, sending a zip of pain right to the centre of Calum’s chest. It’s hard to focus when Ashton’s arms move as he brings food to his mouth, hard to focus when all he can think about is having them wrapped around him again.

Whether it’s to get him off like last night or to hold him close just because, Calum doesn’t really care. He doesn’t think he gets to be picky, and he’d settle for just anything. Which, in hindsight, is probably why he jumped headfirst into whatever happened last night.

Just crumbs, and he was ready to collect every single one in his desperation to be close.

It’s pathetic, and he can’t do it again, or he’ll end up with a broken heart, and his tends to shatter easily.

Ashton doesn’t so much as hint that he remembers last night throughout the day. Calum knows he does, because you can’t just forget a hookup if you weren’t black out drunk, which Ashton hasn’t been in years, and that makes it worse.

But maybe it’s for the better. If Ashton wants to forget about it, that means it’s likely not happening again, and while the lovestruck part of Calum wants to cry out at the unspoken rejection, it’s what he needs.

So as the day goes by, he puts on a tight smile and pretends he’s not longing to get closer to Ashton when they’re out exploring, that he doesn’t want to get down on his knees and beg him to have him again when they’re soundchecking privately and Ashton’s giving it his all, all sweaty and focused face.

He pretends he doesn’t completely miss conversation cues throughout the entire day because he’s so lost in his thoughts or staring, and he pretends Michael isn’t sending him confused looks and mouthing “You good?” from the other side of the room more than once.

That’s until Luke corners him while their opening act is playing, dragging him to the hallway, far away from everyone, to talk. And Luke is getting sick, he’s supposed to be on vocal rest, so it’s safe to say that Calum’s a little worried that he’s breaking the no unnecessary talking rule.

“What’s up?” Calum asks nonetheless. They’re already dressed up and his eyes keep flicking to the dressing room where he knows Ashton is, black velvet suit hugging his body. He gulps and looks up at Luke, who’s frowning.

“What’s up with you?” he counters, crossing his arms.

Calum rolls his eyes. “Nothing’s wrong with me.”

“Bullshit. You weren’t so twitchy and distracted yesterday. Did something happen? Are you nervous? Michael’s already stressed as fuck but that’s not surprising, but you’re always so collected about the shows–”

“Luke, calm down,” Calum interrupts, letting out a genuine laugh. “I’m not nervous about the shows, promise. Last night was great, and I know we’re gonna keep killing it.”

It’s a good thing Calum’s not in love with Luke — thank god, one band member is enough — because the confused puppy look on his face is adorable and almost convincing.

“But–”

“You’re not supposed to talk right now,” Calum says. “Shut up.”

“Fuck you! I’m worried.”

“Well, you don’t need to be, alright?” There’s still some time before they have to go on stage, so he decides to give Luke something or else he’s going to insist again. “It’s nothing, just some internal bullshit that I don’t feel like talking about with any of you because I know it’s gonna be fine in a couple days.”

Luke’s nose scrunches up. “Oddly feels like when we were sixteen and you were worried about coming out to us for days.”

That gives Calum pause, because he can’t tell if that means Luke is onto him and has been trying to get him to say it this entire time. It’s exactly what he and Michael did back then, because they’d caught him kissing a guy and were trying to tell him that they knew and were alright with it without actually telling him.

The thought makes his breath hitch for a second, but he pushes it away quickly. There’s no way Luke knows he’s pining for Ashton like a lovesick fool, and there’s no way he knows they did… whatever they did last night. Okay, they were absolutely dumb and Michael and Luke could have totally heard them, but if they had, Calum would have heard all about it the moment they saw each other this morning.

Let’s just say Luke isn’t very fond of overhearing people going at it.

Rolling his eyes fondly to save face, Calum fist bumps Luke’s shoulder. “I’m fine, Luke, don’t–”

“Why are you guys hiding out here? Come hang out.”

Ashton’s voice rings from the doorway, Calum’s head snapping to him, pulled in like a magnet. He’s talking to both of them, at least it would seem so, but his eyes are zeroed in on Calum. Anyone walking by wouldn’t question the look Ashton is giving him, but something about it makes Calum squirm slightly, suddenly uneasy.

It’s destabilising, being struck down by Ashton’s gaze, intentional and heavy although appearing totally nonchalant. Calum feels like pinned to the wall by it, and he doesn’t know how he even spouts a joke about Ashton being too needy for his own good before following him back inside, Luke on his heels.

They’re late to the show and they cut a song when it’s clear Luke’s throat is hurting too badly, but Calum’s cheeks don’t hurt less than they did last night from how much he’s smiling after feeling so alive. Ashton must be feeling the same way, because he kisses Calum’s shoulder in passing as soon as they’re off stage with a gentle, sweaty pat to his hip.

This is normal. This is something they do. Casual touches for no particular reason other than they’re in each other’s space and it’s mostly second nature to acknowledge it without actually saying anything. Just a silent, “Hey, I’m here with you in this moment and I appreciate that,” before moving on with their day.

Moving on is harder tonight, especially when Ashton lingers next to him instead of wandering off to stretch and change. He lingers when Calum cracks open a beer while they all fuck around backstage, and he lingers when Calum gets changed, sipping on his own alcohol-free beer and laughing at his own jokes, and Calum wants to kiss him again and never stop. 

Luckily for him, he’s got enough self-control and dignity to not make a fool of himself by doing that. That doesn’t mean he can resist leaning against Ashton’s side when he’s laughing a little too hard or that he doesn’t ask Ashton to come hang out while he has a smoke outside. 

Because this is something they do as well. Ashton doesn’t tear Calum a new one for smoking if he does said smoking in his presence and shows him his pack of cigs every time to prove he hasn’t smoked more than they agreed upon years ago. It’s a nice compromise they have, Calum supposes.

No, the fact that Ashton cares that much does not make his heart crumble in on itself, never.

“How about we try and skip the next time?” Ashton says as Calum is stubbing out the butt of his cigarette and blowing the last bit of smoke.

“I’ll try,” Calum promises like he always does when Ashton asks. One more thing that opens his heart up for Ashton to crawl deeper into. No one’s supposed to care that much. The thought beats in tandem with his racing heart.

He knows better, but he still tells himself it’s because of the nicotine. 

An hour later, he’s towelling himself dry after a warm shower, droplets dripping from his hair onto his shoulders every time he gets rid of the previous ones, when there’s a knock on his door.

There’s no nicotine to blame this time as he goes to answer it with a dry throat and pounding heartbeat, towel wrapped tightly around his waist.

He knew it would be him, and yet he still does a double take when he finds Ashton on the other side. The lighting in the room is dim but it still reflects the foreign glimmer in Ashton’s eyes as he enters the room, sending shivers down Calum’s spine; telling him exactly why Ashton is here, and it’s not the usual, normal reason.

It’s been a while since they’ve been on tour, sure, but usually whenever Ashton comes over to his room after a show, it’s for either one of two things: late night talks or trashy TV. He’s come to expect this for years, the soft knock that brought either a toothy smiled Ashton bearing snacks or a tired faced Ashton with eyes drooping but too many thoughts ready to tumble out of his lips.

Ashton looks neither of those things as he toes off his shoes and removes his cardigan. The heat in his eyes is so potent Calum’s heart rate speeds up instantly, hands wet and not from his shower. And yet there’s a nervous streak to the way Ashton stands, guard down in a way that’s obviously uncomfortable, like he’s expecting Calum to go sit down on the bed and turn on the TV.

Truthfully, it’s what Calum should do. He’s been aching to talk to Ashton all day, and he knows what he needs to tell Ashton is that it was fun, it was fucking mindblowing, but it can’t happen again. To preserve their friendship so that there’s no chance it gets tainted by potentially ugly situations, but most importantly, to preserve his own heart.

But it’s not what he does. Against his better judgement, his feet drive him forward until his hands are on broad shoulders.

“Did you want something?” he asks, not caring how strained his voice is.

His response is Ashton’s hands on his waist, setting his naked skin ablaze and tearing a gasp out of him. 

“Maybe,” Ashton whispers. It raises goosebumps on Calum’s skin as he leans forward, breathing the taunting word right against his ear.

At this point, Calum should be old enough, strong enough, to push him right back. To tell him that he can’t, to cut this off before its hold on him has a chance to strengthen until he can’t breathe.

“Then take it,” he moans instead at the light bite to his jaw. “Just tell me what it is, you can have it.”

It must be the right thing to say, because then the towel is hitting the floor and fingers are wrapping around his cock. That wasn’t his focus, but it’s all he can think about now as Ashton plays with the head and pumps him up and down a few times.

That, and the fact that Ashton isn’t naked enough.

“Take it off,” he says into Ashton’s mouth, tugging on the offensive tank top. He gets his wish, even though that means getting Ashton's hands off him for a minute.

But who is he to complain when that leaves Ashton pushing him towards the bed, crawling over him naked from the waist up, only his underwear covering him, but barely. He’s hard and Calum cups him through his pants, toes curling at the surprised moan Ashton lets out in his mouth, sending vibrations all over his body.

“Just wanna make you come again.” Ashton mumbles the words against his skin, kissing down his neck and shoulders and getting Calum’s hands off him, putting them away to grip the sheets.

The thought alone could be enough to make him lose it, but despite being completely on cloud nine, Calum is determined to make this last longer than last night. Fuck, the fact that he can even say that might ruin him.

He watches as Ashton kisses down his chest, nipping at certain spots, cutting Calum’s breath short when he takes a nipple in his mouth. His reaction must be satisfying, because Ashton hums and then proceeds to rile Calum up by playing with the two rose buds until Calum is practically writhing on the bed, threatening to come without even being touched.

There’s something about Ashton’s touch that lights him up more easily than he usually does. Like he’s more prone to catching fire when the match is Ashton, ready to blow up as soon as they come into contact with each other.

There’s no saying how it happens as everything is hasty movements and blurred communication, but somehow he ends up reclined against the headboard, thighs trembling around Ashton’s head as Ashton takes him down his throat.

“Wanna taste you,” he keeps repeating when he comes back up for air, a desperate tone to his raspy voice. He always tongues at the slit before going back down, eyes hungry as he looks up at him, so intently Calum couldn’t tear his gaze away if he wanted.

All he wants, though, is to keep him close, keep his warmth and his touch until he can scream out in pleasure. He’s close, closer every time Ashton hums around him or sucks in his cheeks.

And when he whispers, “Ash, gonna come,” and Ashton’s only response is to look up and nod before bringing Calum’s hand to his head and pushing, Calum’s done for. He feels it build as he fucks Ashton’s mouth in shallow thrusts, coiling at the pit of his stomach and melting his brain into a puddle.

Before he knows it, there’s a finger pressing down against his perineum and then he’s a firework shooting off, back arching off the bed and thighs clenching around Ashton’s head. He remembers to remove them as well as get Ashton off him in his fuzzy daze, happy when Ashton doesn’t waste any time before mouthing back up his chest and wiggling until he straddles him as he strokes Calum through his slowly descending orgasm.

“Let me,” he pants into the air as Ashton nips at his ear, bringing a shaky hand to Ashton’s cock, only to find it way too slick and getting soft. “Shit, did you just–”

“You’re damn right I did.”

The way he admits to it is completely shameless, like he’s proud that sucking Calum off was enough to get him there, and fuck, Calum loves him. The reminder stings, makes him want to cry, but it also fills him up until it’s all he knows. He has to kiss Ashton so he doesn’t just blurt it out, because no matter how often they exchange I love you’s, he’s not sure it would be a good idea to say it now.

That was the last time, he tells himself when they slip under the covers after a rough clean up, Ashton’s evening out breathing ringing close to his ear. I won’t let it happen again.

“You’re walking funny,” Michael tells Ashton with an all too knowing smile on his face as they’re walking through the airport to catch their flight. 

“No I’m not, you need to check your eyesight,” Ashton claps back, but Calum can see the hint of pink high on his cheeks as Luke and Michael keep making comments.

He’s glad he’s fallen a little behind them and he’s glad that he’s wearing a hat, because he can feel his own cheeks heat up as he sips on his coffee.

The thing is, he’d meant to break it off with Ashton when he woke up this morning. He’d planned what he was going to say, something that made it clear it couldn’t go on but that also wouldn’t hurt Ashton’s feelings by making him believe it wasn’t good.

The plan was never to pretend it wasn’t good. Calum is many things but he’s not a liar, and he’s not an asshole. 

He is, however, a total and complete fool. As soon as Ashton woke up, ass wiggling against his crotch, he should have known it was over. And when Ashton softly asked to be fucked with a rough morning voice, the only thing Calum was able to do was exactly that and get lost in the euphoria of having Ashton pliant and wanting underneath him.

The image of his back muscles rolling under his skin as he bit down into his pillow while Calum was slowly rocking into him from behind is one that’s going to be engraved in his mind forever.

Ashton bites down on his lip and grimaces as they sit down to wait before embarking, and Calum wants to feel sorry for no more than a second. Because Ashton spends the next hour sending him smug smiles as he keeps squirming on his seat to ease the slight ache, which Calum finds incredibly unfair.

On all accounts, he should be the one acting smug that this is the result of their encounter, that he fucked Ashton so good that he’s still feeling it here, now, in front of their two bandmates and a packed airport. That he was still feeling it when they met fans earlier.

But someone help him, Ashton seems eager to let him know that he’s happy about it, and that’s sending Calum into a whole other realm. He doesn’t own Ashton, he knows that; they just had sex, multiple times, and Ashton may have hinted at wanting to doing it again when they were getting dressed — to which Calum was unable once again to say no to — but that’s all this is.

And yet it’s so easy to pretend that this is something more. That Calum isn’t going to get crushed under the weight of his own feelings as soon as Ashton decides he doesn’t want to do this anymore. As soon as Ashton finds someone new, and Calum was just something fun to pass the time and release pent up energy with.

It’s not ideal, and it’s one hundred percent going to bite him in the ass, but Calum’s a fool. He’s a fool, and he’s weak for Ashton’s love and attention. It’s been like this forever, long before he even fell for Ashton (or realised it, anyway) and it’s probably safe to say that it’s going to be that way for a long time.

So he lets Ashton sit with him on the plane, and he lets Ashton's hand rest on his thigh for the forty five minute long flight. When they get to London, he lets Ashton drag him out to go on a walk and to have some impromptu dinner, and the next morning he lets Ashton talk him into meditating in his hotel room.

After the show that night, he can pretend all he wants, but he doesn’t have to wait for Ashton to prompt him to do anything; he’s the one pushing Ashton into an empty dressing room, too eager to wait until they’re back at the hotel, too dizzy with the adrenaline coursing through his veins and the need for Ashton to be closer.

By the time Ashton is laying him down on the couch, he’s abandoned all pretence that he’s still going to try and stop this, even if it ends up killing him from the inside.

It becomes a bit of a routine. They go about their day, sometimes visit the city they’re in, sometimes alone, sometimes together; they go to soundcheck, head backstage again — sometimes Calum will suck Ashton off in the bathroom if he’s being flirty enough — they go on stage and have the greatest show of their lives; they head back to the bus or the hotel, and then they fuck.

If they’re staying at a hotel, they’ll fuck again in the morning, and it’s both Calum’s favourite part and the one he dreads the most. Because in the mornings, they’re usually tired and lazy — at least Ashton claims he is — which leads to slower and lazier sex; it leads to Ashton panting softly into the crook of his neck, it leads to them both taking their time maping out each other’s bodies, which is Calum’s dream that feels like a nightmare once it’s over.

Because the hardest part is always after they exchange a shower or a last “goodbye for now” kiss, after they get dressed. When the moment is left to rot between the sheets as they leave the room and go back to being friends, pretending nothing happened.

When Calum has to pretend he’s not aching to just say fuck it and drag Ashton back inside to do everything but get naked. And sure, they still watch trashy TV every once in a while, and they have the same deep conversations that they’ve always enjoyed having together (although during the day rather than late at night).

But he wants to cuddle up to Ashton while they watch said trash TV and he wants to be able to make out with him just for the sake of it during the parts where it’s the most boring, and he wants to have talks about a shared future and he wants look into Ashton’s eyes as they lay in bed without ever needing to stop. 

He wants, and he’s greedy, so he wants more than what he’s being given.

“What do you want, Cal?” Michael asks, and Calum blinks tiredly, looking up at him. He’s scrolling through his phone, though, not really sparing him a glance. If Calum lets out a relieved sigh, no one notices.

“What are the options?” he says through a yawn, burrowing further into the couch he’s lying on. 

Shared breakfast on the tour bus is a fun idea in theory, but when it means waking up as early as everyone else, it’s suddenly the worst thing that could happen to him. Waking up before eleven a.m. after a show should be illegal, and yet Michael’s not grumbling about it, so, Calum feels like he just needs to suck it up.

“Earth to Cal,” someone says, jerking him awake. He hadn’t realised he was on his way to falling back asleep, but now his eyes open to the sight of more than five people staring at him. 

“Just get him the same as me, that’ll do.” 

Calum registers the warmth spreading inside him before he realises who’s speaking, but when he does he can’t help the small smile that escapes him. Especially when Ashton comes into view, skin slightly red and damp from the shower he must have just gotten out of and dimples carved into his cheeks as he makes his way to him.

“Didn’t sleep much, huh?” Ashton says softly with a wink that hopefully no one sees. If Calum were more awake, he’d be beet red by now. As it is, he just hums happily into the cushions. 

“Wonder whose fault that is,” he mumbles. Ashton’s smile mirrors his then, before he lets out a giggle, the sound lodging itself comfortably in Calum’s chest.

“Yeah, wonder. Must be a lucky guy.”

As always when Ashton says things like this, Calum has to bite down on whatever sappy reply he’d have to say in the moment. 

Whatever he might have said today dies out immediately anyway, because suddenly his legs are being lifted as Ashton sits down, before being brought back down until his feet are resting on thighs more comfortable than the couch. 

“Are you just indulging your foot kink?” he mumbles when a gentle hand comes up to rest on his ankle, right where his sock is rolled down, because he doesn’t want to think about how tender a gesture it is. Doesn’t want to acknowledge the butterflies flapping their wings inside him, ravaging everything.

He can practically hear Ashton rolling his eyes. “It’s called a foot fetish, and I don’t have one.”

“Foot kink, foot fetish, the sentiment is the same. Don’t bug me with technicalities.”

“Why are we talking about foot fetishes?” Luke perks up from his seat at the kitchen table. Calum grins at him in a way he knows is annoying.

“Ashton has one,” he says, which earns him a light tap to his leg, tearing a tired laugh out of him.

Luke just nods and goes back to Sierra and his coffee like this was the answer he expected.

Glancing back at Ashton, Calum raises an eyebrow at him.

“Do you actually have one?”

“Why do you wanna know so bad, huh?” Ashton says, much more quietly. “Maybe you’re the one who wants to get freaky with your feet?”

Once again, before he can reply anything, he’s rendered speechless, breath stuck in his chest as a hand sneaks underneath his shirt, fingertips raising goosebumps on the skin of his back with their feather light touch. 

And then he’s yelping in a totally unmanly way before erupting into laughter as tickles dance on the sole of his foot.

“Stop, don’t do that, I’m gonna kick you,” he manages to get out through a hiccup, trying to free himself, but Ashton’s got a grip on his ankle again and he seems far too happy, a smug look in his eyes

“Admit I don’t have a thing for feet.”

Part of Calum doesn’t want to, wants to see how far Ashton will go now that his fingertips are leaving his feet and running up his bare leg, right past his knee. It’s a different kind of touch than what Ashton has gotten him used to lately, with a purpose he isn’t aware of, but it leaves him biting his lip on a gasp more than once. 

So Calum doesn't want to say it, doesn't want to stop the course of Ashton's hand, doesn't want the twinkle in Ashton's eyes to dwindle or the small smile on his face to vanish. 

But when he whines a little too loud at a pinch on the inside of his thigh and someone says, “Ash, why is Calum making sex noises?” and he feels himself flush all over, he has to. 

“Okay, okay, fine,” he says, and he's no longer laughing, instead a little out of breath as he grabs Ashton's wrist before it can slip under his skirt, which has already ridden up too much with all his squirming. “You don't have a thing for feet.”

Ashton’s beaming smile is the most comforting thing Calum will ever experience.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Calum expects that to be it. He’s certain the moment is over, that Ashton is going to ask Calum to sit properly so he has more room, or that he’s just going to go sit on the floor like he loves doing.

But twenty minutes later breakfast gets here and Ashton’s hands are still on him, big and warm over his ankle and thigh, resting there like it’s where they belong, tracing random patterns absentmindedly as Ashton makes idle talk with the band and crew.

The hand on his thigh doesn’t disappear when Ashton starts eating, and Calum claims he isn’t hungry yet despite his stomach screaming at him just so he can enjoy this a little longer.

If Michael gives him a knowing look, Calum ignores it.

It’s his business, and his only.

It’s the smell that wakes him up.

He doesn’t realise it at first, his brain still desperately trying to cling to its sweet sleep as he quietly climbs off his bunk to refill his water bottle. He takes some time to splash cold water on his face to get rid of the humid, uncomfortable heat that comes with waking up at two a.m., leaving the lights off so he doesn’t have to be faced with his pasty reflection.

He intends to go back to his bunk right away, because Krakow took every bit of energy out of him and they’ve got two other shows in a row and he’s not eighteen anymore, he needs as much sleep as he can get. 

And yet his feet lead him to the back lounge instead, where he finds Ashton reclining on the couch. He looks like a dream, sitting under the low light of the three big candles lit on the coffee table. They’re throwing soft shades over him, almost hiding his face as he brings the half smoked joint to his lips.

“No sleep for you?” Calum whispers as he closes the door behind him, not wanting to disrupt the calm atmosphere of the room.

“Just wanted to take it in for a moment,” Ashton says just as softly, looking out the window and the empty road behind them. The top window is open slightly, letting in some fresh air. “That was a good show.”

“Great show, even. Some days I still can’t believe this is our lives.”

There’s no reply from Ashton, but there doesn’t need to be one. They’ve always been on the same wavelength when it comes to this, all four of them. They feel it all the same way, it became clear as early as their first show together.

Back when they didn’t really know Ashton. When Calum literally got down on one knee to ask him to be a part of this for good. When he hadn’t fallen yet, but the seed must have been planted right then and there.

Maybe if he’d noticed right away, he could have done something about it. Taken it out before it could take root inside him. Now, though, the roots go far too deep to even think of trying to get rid of it, and it’s blossomed into so much more than Calum was ever meant to let it grow.

He can barely see through it.

Ashton pats the seat beside him, taking him out of his thoughts. It’s not a good idea, Calum needs sleep, he does, but there’s no way he’s going to say no to alone time with Ashton. They haven’t gotten high together in a few months, and part of him is a little eager to do that again as well.

So he takes the offered spot and then the offered joint, taking a hit and then a second one before passing it back to Ashton.

Before he knows it he’s loosened up entirely, the joint smoked through and Ashton lighting another one.

“Last one yeah?” Calum says, leaning his head onto Ashton’s shoulder.

“Yeah, last one.”

With a smug smile, Ashton blows the smoke out into the air slowly. Calum watches, fascinated, before letting out a chuckle into Ashton’s neck.

“Dude, Michael's gonna kill us if he can smell it in the morning.” 

Ashton just shrugs, unbothered. “I have the windows open for a reason.”

“Smart,” he says, and then they’re both laughing for a minute straight. Calum’s pretty sure it’s not even funny, but he can’t find it in him to care. 

“I like when you do this with me,” Ashton says after a few beats of silence. His voice sends shivers down Calum’s spine.

 “I like doing this with you.” Another beat, Ashton’s hand squeezing his waist. 

“Most things are better when you do them with me.”

This time, Calum can’t tell what’s the cause of the shiver that runs all over him. It could be the softly spoken admission, or the thumb slipping under his shirt, or the intense look in Ashton’s eyes as he stares deeping into Calum’s, lips tugging on the joint.

Either way Calum suddenly feels hot all over, and when Ashton taps on his chin gently to get him to open up, Calum follows the silent command without a second thought. 

The grip on his jaw is light, and yet it holds him perfectly in place as Ashton leans forward ever so slowly until he’s blowing out the smoke into Calum’s open mouth. Calum almost chokes, not expecting it, but he welcomes the intrusion, melting into it, back arching into Ashton’s touch.

And then he’s closing the gap between them, the smoke getting trapped and making him feel more dizzy. He knows it’s not because of the smoke itself, that he’s just getting (more) high on being so intimate with Ashton in this way, but he doesn’t want to think about it.

Maybe that’s why he ends up with his thighs on either side of Ashton’s waist, hands in his hair as he kisses him slowly.

That’s how the rest of it goes. Slow, lazy, like the haze they’re in is slowing down all of their movements, slurring Ashton’s words as he keeps whispering sweet nothings into Calum’s skin as he opens him up with gentle fingers while they finish the joint together.

It almost doesn't feel real, like it’s happening in another world, in another dimension, even once he’s riding Ashton, hips rolling in small circles that tear whimpers out of both of them. His shirt is sticking to his back with sweat, and Ashton’s hands are running over his skin under it or caressing his cheek gently, a touch almost too tender to handle as they move together to get to the end.

“Your skin is so soft,” Ashton says through a giggle, although it gets cut short when Calum’s response is to move his hips more sharply. “And you smell so fucking sweet, always.” 

Calum lets out a gasp as Ashton runs his nose down his jaw to his neck, where he takes a deep breath. “Ash–”

But Ashton isn’t done. “Couldn’t get bored of it. Couldn’t get bored of you, fuck, sweetheart.”

“Ash.”

“That’s it, nice and slow,” Ashton breathes out. His hand moves to Calum’s waist, guiding him, preventing the frantic movements Calum wants to give into. “Just want this to last.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

And Calum can’t. Not when Ashton decides to bury his face in his hair and wrap his arms around him, hold him tight and close until it feels like they’re hugging more than they’re fucking, because Calum is barely even moving now, and he doesn’t want to.

He wants to stay like this, Ashton deep inside him and wrapped all over him as they do nothing. But he’s vibrating too much, and this feels too good, and he’s not strong enough to resist moving slowly again, granting some much needed friction to his aching cock trapped between them.

That, paired with the sweet burn of Ashton inside him and the open-mouthed kisses that are being left where his jaw meets his neck, is enough to tip him over the edge. He comes with a muffled cry that Ashton comes up to swallow immediately, trembling hands digging fingers into soft waist skin and shaking thighs struggling to keep their pace.

Ashton joins him soon after that, burrowing further into him in every way, his own fingers gripping him so tight there’s bound to be bruises tomorrow.

When Calum leans back to get his breathing back, it’s with a bitten lip and the twinkle in Ashton’s darkened eyes staring back at him.

“You ruined my shirt,” Ashton mumbles, but he’s giggling as he says it, already going back to kissing Calum’s shoulder and his exposed collarbone.

There’s a sinking feeling in his gut, but he’s too happy and too stoned to remember what it means, so he ignores it, and when Ashton pulls him back into a languid, lazy kiss, he goes willingly.

If the lips finding his shoulder in a flutter of a kiss before they get up the next morning leave him confused and wanting to cry, it's not a problem. 

Except for when it does become a problem. 

It's like a shift happens between them. It's subtle, so much so that Luke and Michael haven't noticed, but Calum has. 

The way every interaction feels softer, less urgent. Like they have forever ahead of them. The random touches that they’ve always shared somehow happen even more often; a hand on his hip as they head towards the venue, a brush of knuckles soft against his arm in passing, more sweaty hugs than usual at the end of shows whether on stage or in the shadows, a kiss to his cheek or lips for no apparent reason.

The unprompted kisses are the most painful of all. They happen more and more often as tour goes on, and the worst part is, Calum isn’t even sure Ashton is aware he’s doing it. He never acknowledges he’s doing it, but then again Calum never has the chance to either. 

Usually Ashton will go right back to doing what he’s doing after he’s done, only the ghost of his lips lingering on Calum’s skin. It’s torture not to reach out and tug him back to him each time, and Calum’s afraid he’s started going slightly insane. Well, a little more than he was before when it comes to Ashton.

He just feels like anytime now, he’s going to blurt out something he’s not supposed to and make everything around him crumble. It’s hard not to when Ashton kisses him good morning on the bus two days in a row. It’s hard not to when Ashton insists on a night out to visit Vienna right after the show.

Just the two of them.

Michael takes Ashton aside before they leave, and though Calum can’t hear what they’re saying from the other end of the hallway, he can see the worry lines on Michael’s face before he’s squeezing Ashton’s arm and ducking back inside the dressing room.

“What did he want?” Calum can’t help but ask as they make their way outside the venue, security not far behind them.

The way Ashton shrugs seems a bit forced. “You know him, just being a mother hen.”

“I thought that was your job.”

“Married life did that to him, you know how he’s been.”

Calum knows alright. The way Michael’s been making sure everyone’s needs are met and everyone’s being careful and healthy and safe. He also knows it has nothing to do with being married and all to do with the four of them having been forced to spend so much time apart two years ago and not being able to physically check in on each other.

But it’s a bit too emo of a thought to have as they venture into the Austrian capital, so Calum gets what Ashton is saying.

“Yeah, I know,” he says, already mentally checking out when Ashton’s hand finds the small of his back, guiding him as though Calum would follow any path other than Ashton’s.

Tonight feels like a date, is the thing. Sightseeing together, getting dinner at a bar and getting ice cream afterwards under the stars. Walking down the rapidly darkening streets and laughing about nothing, taking the long way back to the hotel in an unspoken agreement.

“I vaguely remember being very drunk one time and walking on top of every car I came across,” Calum says conversationally. It’s fully dark now, the streets mostly deserted. A few street lamps show them the way as they pass by closed stores and sleeping apartment buildings.

Ashton hums, arm loose but heavy around his shoulders. “Yeah, sounds like something you would’ve done.”

“It does, doesn’t it? I think it was probably a dare.”

There’s a silent beat, and Ashton’s eyes are twinkling with something unattainable when Calum turns to look at him. It makes his blood boil, his heart soar.

“What?”

“Would you do it stone cold sober if I dared you to?”

Calum blinks. Their faces are so close. “Like, right now?”

“Why not.”

It’s nice and chilly outside, but suddenly Calum feels like he’s suffocating under the heat of his jacket, or maybe it’s Ashton’s gaze. Dark hazels boring deep into his soul, asking questions he’s not ready to answer. Falling into them seems like the thing to do right now.

“Dare me then,” he whispers, lips grazing newly familiar ones. He revels in the responding breath, short and ragged.

“Go stand on top of that car.”

“Only if you come with me.”

“We’ll break it.”

“We’ll pay for the reparations. Hell, we'll buy the unlucky bastard a brand new one. Come with me.”

It’s a stupid, harmless bet, nothing compared to some of the things he’s been made to do while under the influence, but every nerve ending in Calum is buzzing with the need to agree to it.

When Ashton blinks out of their shared transe and grabs his hand towards the old beaten up car, it’s exhilarating, and so is erupting into laughter at the disaster that is climbing up the bouncing car, their feet trying to hold them up on the uneven roof.

Maybe they end up making out standing there, too drunk on each other and the night to care about the fact that they’re outside for the world to see if it was awake to look. Maybe Calum tries to take things further by lying Ashton down, and maybe Ashton complains about the bumps hurting his back.

Maybe they almost trip on the pavement as they run down the streets to the tour bus. Thank god they only take the road early in the morning, because it seems they’ve lost track of time; every single person inside seems asleep, which Calum couldn’t be more glad about.

It’s a hassle to make it to Calum’s bunk without hitting every wall with their bodies working as one, lips and hips attached and no open eyes to lead them, but they manage to make it unscathed and without waking anyone.

Having sex in bunk beds is never ideal, but they make it work, they always do. Even if that means having to bite down on his pillow as Ashton makes him see stars with his mouth and fingers. Even if that means not hearing his name escape Ashton’s lips in screams as they both reach their climax.

They lay there together afterwards, panting into each other’s skin, limbs entangled and bodies sticking to each other with sweat and other things Calum doesn’t like to think of cleaning up.

“We’re gonna end up waking someone at some point,” Ashton whispers in the dark. He’s partly sprawled on top of Calum, breath hitting the side of his face and fingers tracing circles near his collarbone.

“Everyone’s too used to sleeping with noise around them.”

“That bunk creaks an awful lot, though.”

“Are you saying we should fuck in the back again instead? That was more soundproof.”

Ashton just snorts before pressing a quick kiss close to Calum’s ear, just a light press of his lips that makes Calum blush despite him. He wants to roll over and bury his reddening face in Ashton’s chest, hold him tight enough that they’d melt into each other.

But it would be too much, would tear him apart as quickly as it would make Ashton run, so he stays where he is, settling for Ashton’s half embrace and the silence that falls over them. Ashton is bound to go back to his own bunk to sleep soon enough, so he makes sure to enjoy the moment while it lasts, even if it’s (hopefully) not the last time it’s going to happen.

“You ever done this with someone?” Ashton says softly after a while, fingers now tapping gently against his chest.

Calum frowns. “Done what?”

“This,” Ashton repeats unhelpfully. “Sleeping with them multiple times without being in a relationship.”

Calum’s fingers stop in their tracks where they were tracing irregular patterns down Ashton’s spine. Why are they talking about this. They don’t talk about this. Calum doesn’t have the strength or the brain or heart to mouth filter for that.

“I haven’t, no. Have you?” he gulps down, short of breath for different reasons than he was a few minutes ago.

He can feel Ashton shake his head. “No, I always told myself I’d never do that.”

“Why?” Can his throat get more dry?

“Just seemed scary. I’m way too sentimental and too much of a romantic at heart,” Ashton says. He sounds small. “So the idea of being so intimate with someone repeatedly with no strings attached… Didn’t think I’d be able to handle it. And to be honest, I’m not.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m not built for this. I mean I enjoy dates and romance and companionship and yeah, I love sex but if it’s just going to mean hiding behind closed doors and sneaking behind my friends’ backs and not have something more… I don’t think I can do it like this much longer, Cal.”

This is how it feels when the world crashes down around you, Calum is certain of it. His head is swimming and his heart is beating out of his rapidly constricting chest, throat closing up uncomfortably.

“Are you–” Calum tries, closing his eyes as if that would make his voice steadier. “Are you telling me you’re ending this?”

“No, I mean, I–”

“Because that’s what this is, right? No strings attached?”

The silence that follows looms over him like a brewing storm, Ashton's weight on him far too heavy for him to breathe properly. But he waits, choked up, for the inevitable crash. Maybe it won’t be as brutal if he pretends they’re both ending this in a mutual agreement instead of Ashton pushing him aside like Calum was afraid he would.

Like he knew he would at some point, because that’s always what happens with arrangements like these. They end, and it’s most usually ugly. It’s too late for Calum’s heart, but he likes to think that if he can salvage his dignity at least, maybe things won’t be too bad. Maybe it won’t ruin everything.

He’d say he can hear the wheels turning in Ashton’s head, but maybe they’re in his own head instead, scratching at the edge of his mind.

And then, “Oh,” Ashton mumbles, so low Calum isn’t sure it wasn’t just a figment of his imagination, before sitting up so fast his back hits the wall with a muffled thump. It leaves Calum cold, exposed, and yet he can’t find it in him to move and cover himself. “So you do want to end this?”

This is what you’ve been needing for weeks, Calum reminds himself. He nods, glad for the lack of light, keeping his lies in the dark. “I mean, it’s for the best, right? That’s what you were gonna say?” 

It takes a while for Ashton to answer once again, and when he does, his voice is clipped and he takes all of Calum’s will to live with him. “No, yeah. I mean, why do this dirty thing like we’re high schoolers hiding behind our parents’ backs to get laid when we could be finding someone to try and build something real with?”

This is the most real thing that’s ever happened to me! everything in Calum is screaming. The way I love you is real!

But he can’t say a thing, can’t even say anything back when Ashton whispers an awkward goodnight and “We can talk about this more when we’re awake” after the silence has stretched on for too long and then disappears out of the bunk, clothes forgotten, lying in the pile at Calum’s feet as if to taunt him. 

He can’t move, either, like he’s just been KO’d from a punch straight to the gut, stealing his breath and leaving the most sour taste in his mouth. 

So instead of doing the smart thing of taking a shower to get rid of Ashton’s marks on him, he just closes his eyes and prays for sleep to come as he lies with the reminders of what he let slip away.

Inevitably, things get awkward. They’re talking, and they’re not outwardly avoiding each other, but the tension is still obvious enough that Luke and Michael notice.

The way they don’t stay alone in a room, the way they take a step back when the other gets a little too close, something neither of them would have done before. The forced banter during soundcheck, at lunch. Everything’s been thrown off kilter.

“Did you and Ash get in a fight?” Luke asks a few days later when they come back from lunch. He won’t stand still, too antsy, feet moving on their spot and fingers playing with each other. Calum hates that it’s partly his fault.

“Why? Does he look that bad that you think I beat his ass?”

That gets Luke to relax, at least, who rolls his eyes. “We both know he’d take you down easily, don’t even try.”

“You have so little faith in me?” Calum gasps, mock outraged.

“You’re avoiding the subject.” Luke points at his chest. “Which means something’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s–”

“Okay, stop insulting me, I’m not that dumb.”

Great, Luke sounds upset now, and this is the last thing Calum wanted.

With a sigh, he takes hold of Luke’s wrist. “You’re not dumb. It’s just…”

Looking around, he makes sure everyone else is far enough ahead of them, and crosses his arms as if to protect himself from his own words.

“I did something stupid,” he confesses. He can feel Luke’s frown on him.

“What is it? Did you upset him?”

“No, or at least I don’t think so, but it’s not…” There’s no way to say it in a way that doesn’t make it sound like it is. “I slept with him.”

Luke stops in the middle of the street, so Calum is forced to do the same and face him.

“You what now?” Luke asks, eyes big as saucers, and Calum wants to the ground to swallow him, because this hurts. It fucking hurts to admit, and that’s not even the worst of it.

“Look, it just happened. After the first show in Dublin we just… something was going on and we ended up fucking, and– yeah.”

“Okay, first of all, what the fuck, I can’t believe I didn’t know about that, and second,” Luke goes on looking even more confused. “If that was at the beginning of tour, then why are you guys being weird now?”

Calum lets out a humourless chuckle. Nothing is funny anymore. “That’s the thing, we didn’t just do it once. Almost every night, Luke, and it was fun and we never really talked about it but we should have because… Fuck, Luke, I love him. Too much.”

He remains quiet until the words have sunk in for Luke, and even without the mumbled, “Shit,” he could have seen the exact moment they do.

“Yeah. I should have put a stop to it after the first time but I wasn’t strong enough even though I knew it would wreck me, and now after Vienna Ashton said we should end this because he doesn’t feel happy with an arrangement like this and I can’t look him in the eyes without feeling like he’s ripping my heart out.”

His words come out choked up towards the end, his chest growing tight and his throat closing up every time he thinks about this, which is why he’s been trying not to. If he wasn’t in the middle of the street, he’d let himself cry into his friend’s arms, because maybe it’s what he needs.

Saying it all out loud already feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, even if it offers no solution towards repairing his broken heart. 

“I’m sorry,” Luke says, a sad veil obscuring pale blue eyes. “I wish there was something I could do.”

Calum shakes his head, blinking back tears. “No, it’s my fault. I knew what I was getting into, I knew it wouldn’t last forever, and I did it anyway. I’ll be fine.”

That’s what he tells himself every time he thinks about Ashton for the next few days, every time their eyes meet and Ashton gives him a curt smile or one that doesn’t reach his eyes, like he’s just as broken inside as Calum is.

Michael keeps looking at him with a sad look all over his face when they’re all in the same room, which sucks because Calum hasn’t even told him anything. So either Calum’s so upset Michael can tell and it’s embarrassing, or Ashton’s told him something and somehow that’s even more embarrassing.

Either way it’s pity, the thing Calum loathes the most. He pretends he doesn’t notice, especially because Luke has been acting like a mother hen and almost babying him since they talked the once, because Calum refuses to talk about it more.

It’s a testament to how professional they are when they want to that the shows don’t suffer. The stage is what it is, and they know how to do their job and enjoy the moment because that’s what they’ve always been best at. Even during the bows at the end, Ashton still puts his arm on Calum’s shoulder or around his waist, and Calum lets him, even though the touch stings despite how short it lasts.

Maybe that’s the part that hurts, though, is what he thinks late at night when the touch lingers even after his shower, even after they’ve crossed a border and that moment is long gone. The fact that those brief, performative touches and shows of affection and friendship are the only ones he has now. 

“A few days off without seeing him and it’ll be fine,” he groans into his pillow as he tries to fall asleep, heart aching and mind tired.

Nevermind that he’s spent more than a few days without Ashton in the past few years and that never got rid of his feelings. Surely, that’s just details.

Ashton gets hurt on the second to last show. It’s nothing that hasn’t happened before; drumming is an intense workout almost every night, leaving blisters on his hands and a healthy soreness all over his body. Calum has been seeing it for years, has patched up bleeding fingers and has massaged the ache out of Ashton’s back more than once.

He’s even held an ice pack over Ashton’s swollen brow bone after he hit himself with it, like, three times on the last tour alone. 

So really, Ashton pulling a muscle is nothing new, because it happens at least once a tour.

What is new, however, is that now Calum isn’t here to distract him from the pain. Ashton may be in the habit of hiding when he’s hurt, but Calum knows him well enough by now to see through it. 

He remembers the first time it had happened, back on their first headlining tour, the way Ashton had been too quiet after a show, his laugh short and his eyes burning with pain. It took three days and another show for Ashton to admit that he might need to see someone so he can get the right treatment or advice on what to do.

Through all of that, Calum remembers offering Ashton his pillow so he could have two to sleep on, and he remembers physically preventing him from getting up to do most things, because, “Just fucking ask you moron, I can bring you your phone.” He remembers rubbing hesitant fingers over knotted muscles and ignoring the way Ashton would wince as they were watching trash TV at night or waiting in their dressing room.

Now, Calum is sulking while he enjoys — or doesn’t — his breakfast with Luke at the hotel restaurant. They got there an hour ago, exhausted beyond words after the last night sleeping in too small bunks for this leg of the tour. Crystal and Sierra decided to go get breakfast in a fancy French coffee shop somewhere, which leaves Calum with a far too excited Luke as they wait for Ashton and Michael to come down from sorting their things in their rooms.

Usually, Calum would be in the same boat as Luke before the last show, but the show is only tomorrow and Calum spent the night matching his breathing to Ashton’s laboured one above him more than he did catching any sleep.

“Where’s Ash?” he asks before he can help himself when Michael gets to their table, scoffing as he sits down.

“I see you’re happy to see me.”

“I’m always happy to see you.”

“I know,” Michael grins, pouring himself some coffee.

The urge to ask again must be visible on Calum’s face, because Michael rolls his eyes, knocking their feet together.

“He says he wants to try and catch some sleep,” he says with a shrug. “He didn’t get much last night.”

I didn’t either, Calum thinks. “He’s hurting that bad?” he says instead.

Michael’s little nose scrunch tells him enough. So does the fact that Ashton does not make an appearance all morning, even once Michael goes back to check on him before they go out and explore the city a little. 

It’s been a thing since they first started travelling the world; they all love visiting places, but Ashton would die to be able to explore each and every country and its culture in depth. Granted, they’ve been to Paris many times, but that’s usually not enough to deter Ashton from trying to explore places deeper.

It’s on instinct and without a single thought behind it that, as everyone is looking for a place to get lunch, Calum excuses himself and makes it back to the hotel. It’s only once he’s walking down the hallway to where he knows Ashton’s room is that he starts to question what he’s doing.

Is he even going to be welcome here? Ashton wouldn’t push him away, that’s one thing he’s certain of. Despite how stubborn he is when it comes to his own health, he’s never refused a helping hand, and he’s never refused Calum’s help specifically. But they haven’t been alone together in days, Ashton’s smiles clipped at the edges and Calum’s glances furtive when they’re in the same room for too long.

Where silence used to be comfortable, it’s now tense, a dark sky threatening to crack with a brewing thunderstorm.

His heart is racing so loud it could shake the building as he closes his eyes and knocks on the door. He’s fucking selfish. He’s not really scared of Ashton telling him to fuck off, he’s scared of being reminded what being alone together could have meant.

“Come in,” comes a muffled voice from inside.

“It’s locked, you idiot.” Calum can’t help the smile that escapes him, called to the main cause of it in recent years.

There’s shuffling on the other side, followed by soft padding coming closer, and then the door opens on possibly the most devastating sight Calum’s ever seen. The face that greets him is pale, pain tugging his mouth down and tears welling up in clear hazel eyes.

It’s something Calum has seen before, and he knows it’s temporary, but it’s as crushing as the need to wrap his arms around Ashton and kiss it better.

He doesn’t do either, despite the fact that he would have done both before this whole mess.

“You look awful,” he says, glad when that tears a small chuckle out of Ashton.

“Is that what you say to all the guys?”

“Only the special ones.”

It’s out before Calum can hold the words back, wreaking havoc in the form of Ashton’s jaw clenching and his fingers tightening on the doorframe. Maybe it’s just a trick of the light, but Calum swears he sees his eyes flick down to his lips before he bites down on his own.

Calum wants to give into it. Wants to succumb to the pull, lose himself in his lustful love and blindly close the gap between them. In a way, even though it hurt once it was over, it was easier when he could drown himself in bliss and become numb to any other feeling. 

But Ashton is not in any condition to get down and dirty, and it’s miserable that the reminder is what makes Calum stay put and urge Ashton to go and grab his heating cream.

“Did you even apply any today?” he asks once Ashton is sitting at the edge of the bed, Calum kneeling behind him. It feels like a cruel joke, to have those naked shoulders and back right at his fingertips, but he focuses on rubbing the cream into the skin.

“Couldn’t do it myself,” Ashton admits, hissing when Calum presses a sore point on his right shoulder. “Mike did it for me last night, but I didn’t want to bother him this morning.”

“Ashton Irwin, you are unbelievable.”

Calum rolls his eyes as he says it, but he still winces when Ashton makes a hurt noise low in his throat. He’s never taken well to seeing any of his boys in any kind of discomfort, and even though it’ll pass soon enough, he hates being witness to this.

“Are you gonna be alright to play tomorrow’s show?”

Shrugging, and regretting it immediately, Ashton fiddles with his shirt in his lap, not putting it on. “I’ll have to be right?”

“Ash.” 

“Look, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” he insists, ignoring Calum’s pointed look. “I just need to rest.”

His voice is unsteady, though, tired and beaten down, the more obvious tears in his eyes tugging at Calum’s heartstrings when he turns around and slips back under the covers, shirt long forgotten.

Being so obviously dismissed is a punch to the gut when all he wants is to be there, in whichever way he can. So much for not being rejected, he thinks, jumping off the bed like it caught on fire. The last pieces of his heart will probably remain there, though, burning until it’s nothing but ashes that will be washed away with the sheets, once they’re long gone from this side of the world.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he mutters, trying for a smile as he takes a step back. His hands are gross and sticky, fingerprints messed up from touching Ashton’s skin more than the cream. “I’ll let you sleep, call me if you need–”

“Cal, I swear to god, if you leave…”

The words are rushed, an urgency to them that Calum doesn’t think he’s heard laced in Ashton’s voice in a while. Certainly not directed at him, begging for him to stay like the opposite would be an absolute tragedy.

Calum scoffs, cheeks heating. “Sorry but I’m kind of getting mixed signals here.”

“I’m sorry,” Ashton says. His voice is small, but his eyes are staring straight into his, watery but unwavering. “I never want you to leave, you know that. You have to know that.”

It’s true, is the thing. Calum thought he was too clingy, too demanding with Ashton when he was younger, always wanting to spend free time together and go explore places and discover new things with him. He was self-conscious of it for a while despite still doing it, but it became clear soon enough that Ashton was just the same.

Inviting himself on Calum’s grocery shopping trips, bringing Calum along for his curious adventures, suggesting they watch movies together on their days off more than once and “forgetting” to ask the other two, planning vacations for the two of them before even asking Calum if he wanted to come.

And Calum knows he’s the one who’s been staying away these past few days; if Ashton says he wants Calum around, there’s no reason not to believe him.

Which is why, ignoring the warning signs telling him not to do anything stupid again, let his broken heart heal in peace, he walks right back to the bed.

“You should probably wash your hands,” Ashton says. Calum does, after threatening to rub them all over Ashton’s face, and it’s nice to hear him laugh, nice to laugh along with him. 

Slipping under the covers feels like the hellish kind of heaven, a false promise that he knows not to believe in but can feel himself fall for either way. 

The light is dim from the partly closed curtains, casting soft shadows over Ashton's pale face; they dance over his eyelids and fluttering eyelashes that caress the apples of his cheeks every so often, over the slope of his nose and the inviting bow of his lips. 

Calum gets lost drinking in the sight of him, pushing away the ache that not reaching out is causing. 

Until Ashton turns on his side to face him, whining slightly in pain in the process. 

“Hey, don't move,” Calum whispers, shuffling closer. 

“I don't like sitting still.” Ashton's voice is just as soft spoken, his hand coming up between them, fingers grazing Calum's arm. 

“Don't I know,” Calum says, not retaining a chuckle when Ashton rolls his eyes, and then he's acting on impulse. 

There's no rational thought behind it as he takes Ashton's drum calloused fingers in his, his lips finding rough knuckles and he doesn't want to let go, could cling to him until Ashton's pain is gone, until the one in his own heart has either dissipated or consumed him. 

But the tears in Ashton's eyes are threatening to spill and his smile is more of a grimace when Calum looks up, so he leans back at once. 

Frowning, he says, “Shit, Ash, are you sure you’re okay? If it’s hurting you that bad–”

“It’s not my goddamn shoulder, Cal.”

“What?”

Ashton sighs, the sound full of sorrow Calum can’t decode. “I've got no fucking clue how to tell you this.”

“Tell me what?”

“I thought I was good at this,” Ashton says with a wet chuckle. “I'm really not, though, so–” 

Calum can’t say he doesn’t expect Ashton to kiss him. The palpable tension surrounding them was too obvious, too familiar for him not to realise it was leading to this.

The feeling of Ashton’s lips against him still takes him by surprise, though, unless it’s the way it feels like they never stopped that does. Hands find jaws and hair and hips easily, bodies kept apart but lips keeping attached, always, always, forever.

A whine escapes him at the thought, low in his throat, and that just means the kiss gets deeper, Ashton slowly starting to move over Calum until–

“Oh fuck, now that was my shoulder, shit,” Ashton pants against his skin, rolling onto his back again. Calum follows, hovering over him, stroking Ashton’s other shoulder in sympathy.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m alright.” A beat. “Was this okay?” he adds quietly, his hand coming up to trace gentle fingers over Calum’s lips. 

It takes everything in Calum not to respond by taking them in his mouth and only do what’s easy.

Was it okay? They both wanted it, they both have done more. Calum would bet his life that they both want to do more right now. Surely that means it was okay. Surely that means they should just be able to go on with their lives.

But they can’t, can they? 

“Why did you really put a stop to this?” Calum asks under his breath. Ashton still hears him if the way his fingers still is any indication. “You’ve never been that much of a romantic, have never talked to me about wanting to find someone to settle down with, so why now?”

It’s true. Coming from a broken family, it’s always been obvious when Ashton talked about future plans that a white picket fence relationship wasn’t necessarily something he was looking forward to. And he could have changed his mind, but so suddenly? After jumping headfirst into whatever it is the two of them were doing this past month?

“That’s not what I was trying to do at first,” Ashton admits, fingers sliding down to Calum’s collarbone.

What, then? And why did he end up doing that? Ashton answers before Calum has time to voice any of his questions.

“But then you mentioned no strings attached, and that was already too late for me,” he adds, his lips twitching into a smile that quickly turns into a snarl. “I’ve been caught up in you for a while.”

“Does that mean,” Calum starts, leaning down slightly as he swallows down the hope he doesn’t want to build up. “Does that mean if I kissed you right now, if I touched you and I fucked you slowly–” Ashton gasps, and Calum can’t help his twitching smile– “Does that mean it wouldn’t have to be all we do?”

Ashton frowns, but he pulls Calum down to him by his neck until their lips are a breath apart. “What are you trying to tell me?”

Calum blinks, heart thudding in his chest, echoing loud in his ears. “Hopefully what you’re having trouble telling me.”

Their lips are brushing against each other now, hands delicate on soft skin.

“That I wanna do this.”

A kiss to the corner of Ashton’s mouth. It’s shaky.

“And this.”

Lips trailing down to a quick pulse point.

“And this.”

A breathy moan as fingers dance over plush hips and a quivering abdomen.

“Cal.”

“And this,” Calum adds finally, cupping Ashton through his sweatpants, revelling in the sound of his name escaping Ashton’s mouth again. “I wanna do all this, and I wanna bring you breakfast in bed tomorrow morning and as many mornings as you’ll let me after that, and I wanna go on crappy dates with you and go back on our little getaways together, because I–”

The rest of his words get drowned in Ashton’s mouth as he’s being brought down urgently again, but it doesn’t matter. He says it when he kisses down Ashton’s chest, and when he takes him in his mouth, and he says it when Ashton says something stupid but he still laughs at it anyway.

The best part is, he hears it back in the way Ashton is looking up at him with so much adoration as Calum rocks into him slowly so as not to rustle him, in the way Ashton caresses his face like it’s the most precious thing he’s ever touched, in the sweet, jumbled words Ashton whispers to his ear, against his skin.

It all makes him melt into a puddle of euphoria before it makes him come, shaky and overwhelmed with love as he wraps Ashton in careful arms, entangling them for good, and with both of their consent this time.

“I can’t believe our first official date is at a McDonald’s.”

“Well, at least it’s in Paris,” Ashton says through a mouthful of chicken nuggets from the box they’re sharing. It’s almost three a.m. and they’re about the only two people in the place. “That’s gotta count for something right?”

“If you say so,” Calum teases, but he hooks his ankles behind Ashton’s and steals a sip off his milkshake.

Ashton smiles so bright it threatens to put out the lights, and Calum knows he doesn’t need anything else.