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calpalirwin · 4 years

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Life in Apartment 4D

Summary: 2 musicians become roommates with a writer and a photographer. Shenanigans ensue.

A/N: @philthepegacorn and I are whores for Mashton. Because fuckin’ duh. A bit of a New Girl AU.

Word Count: 4.7k

And away, and away we go!

“Oh, c’mon!” Abigail cursed as the shower spurted water before stopping. “Dani!” the woman hollered.

“Yeah?” was the answer from somewhere else in the apartment.

“We paid the water bill right?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Are they doing maintenance?”

“No idea,” Danielle’s voice sounded closer as she appeared in the doorway of the bathroom. “Why, what’s up?”

“Watch,” Abigail answered through gritted teeth, twisting the shower on.

“What the fuck?!” Danielle asked in aggravated shock when nothing happened.

“Time to move?”

“Fuck yeah.”

“Where?”

Danielle sighed. “No fuckin’ idea.”

Abigail brought a finger to her lips in thought. “Hmm… Oh! Eh, nah, nevermind. That won’t work.”

“What won’t work?”

“This guy I went to high school with. He posted something the other day about him and his roommate looking for someone.”

“And why won’t that work?”

“You really wanna live with 2 guys?”

“Are they cute?”

Abigail’s cheeks flushed pink. “No comment.”

“Oooo, you’re blushing! So high school boy and his roommate are cute! Or at least high school boy is. So what's the problem exactly? They need roommates, and we need a place to live.”

“Cuz we barely talked in high school. Like we were in the same grade, and shared some classes. But it’s not like we were friends or anything.”

“Aw, was he the cool kid, and you were the nerd? How adorable!” Danielle teased her friend.

“Hey!” Abigail gasped with mock indignation. “I could’ve been the cool one.”

“Mhm, sure ya were,” Danielle continued to tease. “You forget I’ve seen your yearbooks.”

“Okay,” Abigail relented. “I wasn’t the cool kid. But he wasn’t either? Like we were both dweebs. Just different camps.”

“Didn’t stop you from crushing on him though.”

“No, it did not,” Abigail laughed, remembering her high school days with a soft fondness. “But it didn’t matter. We were friendly with each other, sure. But we weren’t close. Certainly not close enough for me to call him up, and be his roommate.”

“Who said you had to call? Just send him a message.”

“Ugh, I hate you…” Abigail groaned, but reached for her phone anyway.

“Oh, you love this, don’t lie.”

~~~

Ashton’s palms were sweaty as he paced about the living room. “Would you relax?” Michael asked, exasperated. “You said she was a cool girl, right?”

“Yeah, from what I remember. But I haven’t seen her in eight years. And it’s not like we were friends. Friendly, but not friends.”

“You had a crush on her, you mean?”

Ashton shrugged, a sheepish look crossing his features. “A little yeah,” he fessed up.

“Please don’t fuck our potential new roommate…”

Ashton’s eyes went wide, and he was about to berate his friend for insinuating such a thing, but was cut off by a knock on the door. “That’s them!” He wiped his palms against his jeans to dry them as he rushed to the door.

Michael sat up straighter on the couch. “Them?”

“Yeah, she has a roommate.” Ashton ran his fingers through his hair, giving it a devil-may-care disheveled look, before pulling the door open. “H-hey.” His greeting got caught in his throat as he looked at the woman in front of him, comparing her with the girl he remembered.

“Hey,” Abigail smiled hesitantly, analyzing Ashton in a similar fashion. “Um, this is my friend, Dani. Dani, this is Ashton. And you must be Michael?” Her teeth nipped into her lower lip as she glanced over to the green-eyed blonde still seated on the couch.

“Yep. Nice to meet ya girls. C’mon in.”

At Michael’s instruction, Ashton snapped out of his haze with a clearing of his throat. “Yeah, please. C’mon in. Have a seat.”

“Roomy,” Danielle commented, walking confidently across the floor and taking a spot on the couch.

“So, what do you girls do?” Michael asked, getting the conversation going as they all sat down.

“I’m a freelance photographer, and Abby’s a writer,” Danielle explained.

“Writer, huh? Anything published?”

Abigail nodded. “Yeah, I had a book of poems published a few years ago. And if you’re worried about space, don’t be. Dani and I both teach on the side, so it’s not like we work from home. I mean, we do. But, not all the time.”

“Nah, it’s not a problem,” Ashton told her. “We work from home a lot, too.”

“Yeah, when we’re not bartending down the street.”

“Oh, you bartend?” Abigail asked, leaning forward a little.

“Pays the bills when music doesn’t,” Michael answered with a shrug. “What was the name of the book you published?”

“Matters of the Heart.”

The green eyes lit up in recognition, a sly smile on his face as he looked over at Ashton. “Hey, i-” Michael started but Ashton gave him a sharp look. “I think I’ve heard of it,” Michael fixed. “Uh… Ash, should we give them a tour of the place?”

~~~

“Fuck!” Michael cursed, slamming the front door shut and stalking to the fridge.

Three sets of eyes watched as the man grabbed a beer, popped the cap, and drank deeply from the green bottle. “What?!” he demanded in agitation.

Abigail and Danielle raised their hands in surrender, leaving Ashton to defuse the situation as the reigning expert on all things Michael. “You alright?” Ashton ventured, sliding his headphones off to hang around his neck, drumsticks still in his hands.

“I’ll give ya two guess,” Michael grinned sardonically.

“Crys-?”

Michael made a string of noises, cutting Ashton off, “Buh, buh, buh! That name’s forbidden from the loft.”

“Okay,” Ashton said with a slow chuckle. “Did you break up?”

Michael leaned his arms against the countertop. “Can you call it a break up if it happens every other week?”

“When you keep getting back with her? No.”

“Fuck you,” Michael scoffed, but amusement laced the words rather than malice. “Like you and Kay were any better.”

“Yeah, but when things broke off, they stayed broken off,” Ashton pointed out.

Michael drained the last drop of his beer, flashing another sarcastic grin. “And you just stayed broken.”

“Fuck you,” Ashton laughed. “Back me up here, ladies. Which is better? A break up that stays a break up? Or a constant back and forth?”

“Oh, hell no,” Danielle said, waving her hands. “Nuh-uh, you’re not dragging me into this.”

“Boo, you’re no fun,” Ashton teased, before turning to Abigail. “Abby?”

“Depends,” the woman shrugged.

“Ooo, a cop out. Not much better than Miss Abstaining,” Michael joined in on the teasing.

The women laughed. “It’s not a cop out,” Abigail went on to defend. “It depends on a number of factors. How long you’ve been dating, break ups aside. How many break ups you’ve had. Whether or not you see other people in between the breaks. And how you feel about each other, of course. The problem is, your answer may be one thing while theirs is another.”

“When the love don’t line up!” Ashton sang for no reason other than he could.

Abigail laughed, “Yeah, kinda. So, I guess my question to you, Mikey, is whether or not you think it’s worth it to keep doing this back and forth?”

Michael shrugged, walking over to plop down on the couch, resting his head in her lap. “No idea. I mean, I like her. I like spending time with her. She’s hot. The sex is good.”

“Jar!” they all scolded, and Michael sighed. He dug into his pocket, pulling out a few bills and flashing them wildly until Ashton grabbed it and shoved it in the jar on the coffee table adeptly labeled “Douche Jar.”

“You sound like a teenager,” Abigail told Michael, her fingers scratching through his hair. “You gotta decide if that’s enough for you now in this stage of your life. And if you’re breaking up with her as frequently as Ash is suggesting, then I think you have your answer. You just keep crashing back together because it’s easier than facing something new. You know your pattern with her. Doesn’t make it a good pattern, though.”

“Yeah, suppose you’re right…” Michael sighed, his eyes closing as Abigail’s fingernails continued to scratch against his scalp.

While the sight of any of the roommates curled up in another’s lap receiving head scratches was not at all an uncommon occurrence as they had all grown rather close during the last six months of cohabitation, a twinge of jealousy stabbed into Ashton and Danielle’s hearts. And while Danielle didn’t fully understand hers, Ashton most certainly did.

The drummer pocketed his drumsticks, rising to his feet. “What’re you doing?” they questioned as he started dragging chairs into certain positions.

With the chairs in place, Ashton moved to throwing the couch cushions haphazardly about the room. “True American,” he answered.

Michael’s head snapped up. “You don’t drink.”

“A bartender who doesn’t drink?” Abigail asked with an air of impressed approval.

“Staying sober while getting others drunk is my superpower,” Ashton winked, going to the fridge and grabbing the case of beer in there. He set that on the counter before grabbing a case of soda for himself.

“We’re forgetting a key component here,” Danielle interjected. “What the fuck is True American?”

“Drinking game,” Michael answered, helping Ashton set up a tower of drinks smack dab in the middle of the cushions and chairs. “Grab the king, Ash.”

“Catch.” A bottle of whiskey got tossed in the air, Michael catching it with ease, and setting it in the middle of the tower he and Ashton had crafted. “Rules are simple,” Ashton started to explain. “1.) You always have to have a drink in your hand.”

“2.) You have to finish your drink before starting another,” Michael added.

“And 3.) the floor is lava,” they both finished. “Pick your poison.”

Abigail grabbed a can of Coke, while Danielle opted for a beer, both of them waiting hesitantly for the next instructions.

“FDR!” Ashton shouted, cracking open his can, gulping it down fast, and jumping on a cushion.

“JFK!” Michael yelled in response, following suit, finding a perch on a chair.

“Wait what?!” the women asked in amused confusion and they each found their own lava-free spot.

“Drink!” was the only instruction they got.

For the next hour, the loft came alive with loud laughter, hollered American history references, and so much drinking, until the cases were drained, and discarded cans littered the ground. Eyes got glossy sheens or wild looks as the alcohol and caffeine buzzed through their veins.

~~~

“Hey, who’s that guy with Abby?” Ashton asked in a hushed tone.

Michael followed the hazel eyed gaze to where Abigail was sitting in a booth across from another man. If he had to guess, the way she was leaning across the table, a dreamy smile on her face, she was having a good time. And by the looks of it, Ashton didn’t like it one bit. “Oh, that’s um…” Michael scrambled to remember what the girls had been talking about before he left for his shift at the bar. “Nathan, I wanna say? Dani was helping Abby get ready before I left.”

Ashton scoffed. “And he brought her here? What a joke…”

Michael shook his head. “No, Abby arranged it that way. Something about neutral ground in case she was misreading signals.”

“Looks like she can read just fine.” Ashton’s grip on the glass he was drying slipped.

Michael’s hand flashed out to catch it. “Green’s not a good color on you,” he said, handing the glass back.

Ashton cheeks flushed with color. “I’m not jealous.”

The blonde scoffed. “Yeah, and I hate videogames.”

“You love videogames…”

“Yeah, thought we were lying to each other. You ever gonna tell her that you like her?”

Ashton sighed. “I dunno. How do you explain to someone that every time you see them you feel sixteen again? Like I’m seeing her for the first time again but instead of in a school hallway, it’s on my couch at the end of the day? That… all I’ve wanted to do for the last eight months is cross the distance between our rooms, but my head won’t let me believe that she could want me back. I mean, why should she?”

“I imagine you can tell her just like that. And why wouldn’t she want you?”

“Because I’m me. I was a loser in high school, and I’m a loser now.”

“A loser who makes her very happy whenever she’s around him.”

Ashton scoffed in disbelief. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m just saying… she’s never offered to have a writing session with me.”

Ashton blinked, thinking back on more nights than he can count where he and Abigail had stayed up well into the middle of the night, tossing ideas back and forth, some resulting in poems, and others in songs. Then, he looked back over at the woman who was laughing at something her date had said. “Doesn’t matter. Once again I lost out to the guy who didn’t overthink it.”

“Well, not that I’m rooting for her to have a bad time. But I’m always rooting for you.”

Ashton let out a small chuckle. “Thanks. But weren’t you the one who told me not to try and sleep with her?”

“I’m allowed to change my mind. Just when you do get her- and you will- don’t fuck it up.”

“Are you changing your mind because you’re rooting for me? Or are you changing your mind, so you don’t look like a hypocrite when you finally sleep with Dani?”

Michael sighed dreamily at the mention of the fourth roommate. He’d taken Abigail’s advice, opting to break his pattern with Crystal and look towards something new. A something new he hoped would include the snarky, and nerdy photographer. “Little column A, little column B.”

“Jar,” Ashton deadpanned with roll his eyes. A compromise about when Michael asked Danielle out, he’d ask Abigail out was on the tip of his tongue when the scene across the bar changed. Abigail’s face was pinched with disgust. She sat back with a visible huff, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. There was a small squeal of outrage before Abigail splashed her drink in the man’s face, stalking off to the bathroom.

Michael’s hand landed on top of Ashton’s on the bar, the older man already in motion to hop over the bar and rush to her aid. “No,” Michael hissed.

“Why not?!” Ashton hissed back.

“Because if you go after her looking like a bat out of hell, she’s just going to get defensive, and take out her anger on you. Take your jealousy out on him. I’ll get her home.”

“What about your shift?”

“I got a break coming up in a bit. Just say I ate something bad, and got sick.”

With their objectives clear, they both jumped into action, Ashton stalking off to give Mr. Bad Date a piece of his mind. “You need to leave,” Ashton spoke clearly, authority ringing confidently in his tone, trying to keep his snarl at a minimum.

“That bitch threw a drink in my face, but I need to leave?”

“One, she’s been a loyal customer of this bar for several months now. Two, I don’t ever wanna hear you associate that word with her. Three, I don’t ever wanna see you in here, or around her ever again. Am I making myself clear?”

The man rolled his eyes, pushing himself out of the booth, the drink dripping down his shirt and onto the tips of his shoes. “Whatever,” he scoffed.

While Ashton watched Mr. Bad Date slink off into the night to go piss off some other girl, Michael was rapping softly on the single use bathroom. “Abby? It’s Mike. C’mon, let me in. I saw what happened. Abby… Don’t make me get the key.”

The door opened reluctantly, revealing Abigail with red-rimmed eyes.

“You alright?”

She shook her head. “No…”

“You handled him well. Nice throw. Ash is out there finishing the job. Tossing him out on his ass.”

Abigail laughed despite herself, imaging the sight of Ashton intimidating the everloving shit out of her date. The scum deserved so much worse than Ashton’s bad temper. “Thanks.”

“C’mon,” Michael beckoned. “I’ll walk you home.”

“Aren’t you on the clock?”

“I’m on my break. And my stomach’s feeling kinda funny.” He clutched at his stomach and dramatically groaned, his face twisting in fake pain.

With his arm around her shoulder, and hers around his waist, the duo made their way out of the bar, nodding at Ashton as they walked by. “God, guys suck!” Abigail complained as the night air hit her face. “No offense,” she added apologetically.

“None taken. I know you don’t mean me.”

“Do I have a sign on my forehead reading ‘please be a douche’ or something?”

Michael chuckled, giving a shake of his head. “No. You’re just looking in the wrong places.”

Abigail scoffed lightly. “What? Is this the part where you confess your undying love for me, and hope I feel the same?” she teased. “Ever since you first walked into my apartment,” she added with dramatic flair.

Michael laughed louder, pushing open the door to their building. “Not me, sorry.”

“Aw, you don’t love me?”

“I adore you,” he clarified. “My life has definitely changed for the better since you and Dani moved in. But-”

“Oh…” Abigail interrupted, his words clicking. “You like Dani, don’t you?”

That wasn’t what Michael had planned on saying, but he nodded anyway. “Yeah. Think I got a shot with her?”

“Only one way to find out,” she told him, unlocking the apartment. “Thanks for tonight, Mikey,” she said, stretching up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek affectionately before disappearing into her room.

Danielle waited for Abigail’s door to close before revealing her position on the couch. “You were her date?!” The words were a harsh accusation.

“What?!” Michael laughed.

“Abby! Her date tonight. It was you?!” Again, the words were harsh.

Michael continued to laugh, only making Danielle angrier. “And what if I was?” he taunted, closing the distance between them to tower over her.

“Well... I...” she sputtered, crossing her arms and having to tilt her chin upwards to look at him. “She likes Ashton, so you’re wasting your time,” she concluded with the confession that she thought would hit Michael the hardest.

“And Ashton likes her back, and I’d never do that to my best friend. Plus, I have my own eyes on someone else.”

“Oh, yeah? Then why’d you go on a date with Abby?”

“When did I ever confirm that statement?”

“Well… she just…”

“Thanked me for walking her home after the guy she was on the date with turned out to be a douche.”

“Why didn’t Ash?”

“Because Ash got jealous, and his temper would have clashed with hers. I felt bad her date sucked, but I was the one of us with the head cool enough to talk her down. So Ash used his temper to kick the guy out, and I used my cool head to not aggravate her further.”

“That’s really smart actually…”

“Mhm. Done being jealous now?”

“Jealous? Who said I was being jealous?”

Michael gave a shake of his head, chuckling lightly. “I’mma tell you the same thing I told Ash. Green is not your color.” And before either of them could get in another word edgewise, he ducked down his head, connecting his lips with hers.

~~~

In the morning, both girls were bursting with the news they wanted to tell each other. “So, how’d your date go?” Danielle asked as they ate their breakfast.

“Horrible,” Abigail laughed. “Just God fuckin’ awful. His jokes were cringey at best, and sexist at worst. I don’t know what I would’ve done if Mikey hadn’t saved me. Probably kept crying in the bathroom like a girl at Prom.”

Danielle laughed with her. “Thank God for Mikey, right?”

“Oh, definitely,” Abigail agreed. “Who knew guy roommates would come in handy. Although, for a second there, I thought he was gonna try, and hit on me himself.”

Danielle shuddered and pulled a face. “Bleck!”

Abigail shrugged. “Eh. Wouldn’t be that awful if he had. He’s a great guy. Just not the roommate I want hitting on me. So, how was your night? I heard you and Mikey going at it there for a minute. You guys good?”

Danielle’s teeth nipped into her lower lip, remembering how she’d woken up in Michael’s bed after their kiss had escalated at a rapid pace. “Oh, yeah. We’re good.”

If the words weren’t a dead giveaway, the blissed out smile was. Abigail’s mouth dropped open. “Ohmigod!” she squealed. Then, in a shocked whisper, “Did you?”

“Oh, yeah,” her friend nodded, the smile getting bigger.

“Ohmigod!” she squealed again, before both women erupted in childlike giggles.

“Ohmigod!” a high pitched shriek joined the mayhem, Michael flapping his hands as he wandered into the kitchen, a dopey grin on his face. “Mornin’ beautiful,” he greeted, placing a kiss to Danielle’s cheek that flushed brightly. “Abby,” he grinned across the table.

“Morning,” Abigail laughed, scraping her seat back, and carrying her plate to the sink. She sighed at the sight, checking the time on the microwave. “Hey, I’m gonna run the dishwasher. You guys got any dishes hiding?”

“Don’t think so,” Danielle said, getting up with her own plate.

“Nope,” Michael said with a shake of his head. “But you might wanna check Ash’s room. Man hoards cups like no one’s business.”

“Yeah, and I’d rather not wait for him to get in from his workout.” Her lips fluttered together in thought as she looked from the sink to down the hallway, deciding which to do first.

“I’ll start in here,” Danielle offered. “You go get the cups from Ash’s room.”

Abigail practically skipped down the hallway towards Ashton’s open door, pausing briefly in the doorway. She’d walked by the man’s room about a million times, but she’d never crossed the threshold. She supposed she could run up to the roof and interrupt his workout… No, she shook her head. They were just cups. It wasn’t like she was going to rifle through his belongings. And the cups were right there on his nightstand. She could see them from where she was standing. No. Ashton wouldn’t care.

With a deep breath, she crossed the imaginary boundary to retrieve the glasses on his nightstand, stilling when she noticed a book resting amongst discarded rings and silver chains; her book. The spine was worn down with deep crease lines, indicating that it was well read. Her heart started to hammer erratically in her chest. When had he bought it, and how much time had he dedicated to give it it’s well-loved appearance, and highly-prized spot right by his bed, always within grasp?

Before she knew what was happening, the book was falling open in her hands. Her butt found the edge of his bed, staring down at her book in her hands. Their hearts and souls resided alongside each other in the form of perfectly typed pages, scrawled blue ink, and streaks of yellow highlighter.

“What are you doing?!” Ashton’s sharp tone snapped Abigail out of her daze.

Her body jolted, a startled gasp flying past her lips, the book landing face down on the floor, some of the pages bending. “Sorry!” she rushed, hurriedly picking up the book. “I was getting the cups off your nightstand, and I saw the book, and I…” she continued, brushing her hand along the cover, and setting it gingerly back on the nightstand.

“And you what?! Just thought you’d start peeking through my things?!”

“Well… I mean… it’s my book.”

“You wrote it, sure. But I paid for it. That’s my copy. You shouldn’t be going through my things.”

“I wasn’t going through them. It was on the nightstand. It’s not like I went digging through your underwear drawer for it,” she said through gritted teeth, her prior embarrassment turning into defensive anger the longer he stood there scolding her like a toddler caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

“Oh, so the book just magically opened up in your hands, and you just magically started reading it?!”

“It’s my book!”

“That I’ve written in!”

“Believe it or not, plenty of people do that, Ashton. That doesn’t make you special.”

“That doesn’t make it less personal!”

“Any less personal than you reading through my most private thoughts?!”

“You fuckin’ published your thoughts for the world to see!”

“And you left it on your nightstand for anyone to see!”

Ashton passed a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly through his nose. “Just get the fuckin’ water glasses…” he muttered after a beat, noticing the shine to her eyes as she held back tears. He didn’t want to be the reason she was crying, when he’d been the one stupid enough to leave the book by his bedside. He should have hidden it in his underwear drawer, but he didn’t like the idea of not having it close at hand. If there was a pocket-sized version, he’d carry that around so he always had it.

“How long?” she asked, her voice shaking with the effort to keep it controlled.

“How long what? How long have the glasses been in here? I dunno. A week maybe. It’s just water though, so it’s not like they’re gross.”

“Not the glasses… the book! How long?”

“4 years…”

“You mean when it got released?”

He gave a quick nod. “Day of.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s good. Because I was proud of you. For doing what you said you were gonna do. For putting your vulnerability out there for everyone to see. Because we’re friends, and friends support each other.” Ashton left out the part where it was also because he was in love with her, and wanted to know if she felt the same way. If she had written about him, the way he had about her.

She hung her head. “We weren’t friends, Ash. We are now. And I’m glad for that. But we weren't when you bought this book.”

“I wish we had been. I wish I’d been brave enough to know you the way I know you now. 4 years ago. Hell, in high school even.”

“Me too,” she whispered, a tear of regret sliding down her cheek. A decade’s worth of pent up feelings filled the air between them and she still wasn’t brave enough to break through it.

She wasn’t sure when he had crossed the room to her, his fingers hooking under her chin to guide her face to look up at him. “But I know you now. And I can’t make up for lost time, but I can make sure we don’t waste anymore.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, more tears sliding down her face as her heart broke in her chest. 10 years worth of longing to only have him halfway. She supposed it was better than not having him at all, but the pain stung all the same. “Friends?” Her voice cracked and she visibly winced as the word rolled off her tongue.

Ashton shook his head. “No. I, uh- I don’t think I can do that.”

“But you-” Her lip started to quiver, so she bit it harshly, averting her gaze.

“Look at me,” he coaxed, his thumb rubbing along her cheekbone. “I meant that I can’t be friends with you because I’m past that point. When I say I don’t want to waste anymore time, I mean I don’t want to waste it by trying for anything less than what I really want.”

“And what do you want?”

“You.”

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that,” she breathed in relief.

He reached over to grab the book, waving it in front of her face. “4 years give or take?” he teased lightly, dimples indenting in his cheeks.

“Longer than that,” she admitted, her entire face warm with her confession.

“Oh?” he continued to tease with a bemused smile.

“Ash,” she redirected, stretching upwards to intertwine her fingers behind his neck. “Shut up, and kiss me.”

Ashton didn’t need to be told twice.

“Oh, looks like you two finally figured it out,” Michael said from the doorway, making the couple jump apart. “Oh, no. Don’t stop on my account. Just gonna squeeze by ya, and get these cups…” He made a show of tiptoeing by them to gather the glasses.

“Michael!” Danielle hissed, stomping into the room and dragging her boyfriend out by the arm.

“Ah, young love!” Michael marvel, allowing himself to get towed out of the room. “Kinda makes you wanna fuck, huh?”

“Jar!”

Michael was already digging into his pocket. “Worth it!”

Tag List

@frontmanash @goeatsomelife @flameraine @creator-appreciator @cxddlyash @1-irwin-94 @sparkling-calm @tea4sykes @youngblood199456 @5-seconds-of-obsession @gosh-im-short @aquarius-hood1996 @talkfastromance4 @itjustkindahappenedreally @philthepegacorn @ashtonlftv @miirandaaa @karajaynetoday @myfavfanficsever @stormrider505 @cashtonisruiningmylife @another-lonely-heart

#life in apartment 4d #ashton irwin #michael clifford #ashton irwin fic #michael clifford fic #5sos #galcal irwin

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kaleidoscopeminds · 4 years

Text

I’m going blind from this sweet craving

This came about because I wanted to write some Cake and my brain just went bakery!!! au!!!! Anyway this is very self-indulgent and driven by my own baking obsession. Please enjoy 6k of me talking about cake (literally) and a cheeky bit of side mashton because I couldn’t resist. For the club because everything I do is for the club <3

Warnings: horribly tooth rotting fluff, too many baking metaphors

Title from Cake by the Ocean by DNCE because I think I’m funny

Luke places the last piece of broken Oreo carefully atop the whirl of buttercream and wipes his hands on his apron, reviewing the set of cupcakes in front of him. He knows he’s hypercritical of his own work; he gets called a perfectionist by Michael at any opportunity (and not in a complimentary way), but he still maintains that it’s the only way to be to make anything good.

He deems this double dozen of the Oreo chocolate as close to perfect as he’s going to manage this morning and slides them next to the strawberries and cream set with mini meringue topping he just finished. He goes to the walk-in refrigerator and pulls out the layer cake that he made before he left yesterday, and then crosses over to dry storage to wheel out the trolley containing the carefully wrapped crates of bread that Ashton, their bread supplier, had dropped off about an hour ago.

He pulls the trays of croissants, pain au chocolat and pain aux raisins out of the oven deftly, and slides them onto a cooling rack to leave for a couple of minutes, before he can transfer them to the cabinet in the front of the bakery, and checks the clock. It’s 6:40, so he’s just on time to get everything stacked up in the front if he has a bit of help.

He hears the door at the front of the cafe slam, handle jangling ominously as it closes again and Luke smiles to himself, grabbing the trays of cupcakes and heading out into the front, opening the swing door with his hip.

“Hi Mikey,” Luke calls over as Michael struggles out of his jacket, pushing his glasses up onto his nose and grumbling incoherently.

“I’m not late,” Michael starts, attempting to pull his apron out of his backpack and hang up his jacket on the hook at the same time.

Luke doesn’t say anything, just turns his head to look deliberately at the large clock hanging over the coffee machine behind the counter and raises his eyebrows, smiling slightly.

“Well, barely,” Michael responds defensively. “You’re not the boss of me, Luke Hemmings.”

Luke laughs, “Unfortunately for you, I am. Supervising baker remember?” He opens up the display cabinet and slides the cakes carefully into place.

“Promotions gone to your overly large blonde head already, I see,” Michael says, struggling with his apron ties where they’ve got tangled around his belt.

Luke laughs again and goes over to Michael, untangling him and turning him round to tie his apron for him. “Go and drink your coffee Mikey, I made one for you about 10 minutes ago, should still be hot. I’ll get the rest of the stuff out to the front.”

“I think I’m in love with you,” Michael says genuinely, quickly walking behind the counter and finding the insulated travel mug Luke had filled with a latte earlier that morning. He pulls off the lid and Luke watches him practically inhale it, smiling fondly as he makes his way back into the kitchen.

“Remind me again why I always seem to be making coffee for you when you’re the trained barista?” Luke calls out as he carefully lifts the 4 layered cake onto a stand and carries it back out to the front.

“Ooh that looks fucking good what’s in that?” Michael asks, eyes lighting up at the sight of the cake in Luke’s careful grip. “And it's because you won’t admit it but you’re in love with me too,” He adds, putting his coffee down so he can take the cake off Luke to put on top of the cabinet.

“Chocolate hazelnut with Nutella and praline,” Luke replies with a smile. “Sorry to disappoint you Michael but we would never work, I couldn’t be with someone who hates mornings,” He says solemnly as he returns to the kitchen, lightly checking the pastries to make sure they’re cool enough before tipping them onto another tray.

“You’re going to be on your own for a while then!” Luke hears Michael call, and he laughs as he comes back through the swing door. “No one likes mornings,” Michael continues crabbily, downing the rest of his coffee in one gulp.

“You know who does like mornings?” Luke asks as he passes over the tray to Michael. “Our lovely bread baker.”

Michael blushes and ducks his head at the mention of Ashton. “Why don’t you ask him out then,” He grumbles, lining the pastries up neatly with the tongs in his hand.

“Not my type.” Luke wiggles his eyebrows at Michael. “Plus I think he might be more interested in barista types than cake-making types.”

“Shut up Luke,” Michael groans back. “I’ve told you before, he barely knows who I am. I only see the man for about 5 minutes every day when he comes to pick up the crates.”

“And yet every morning. I have to tell him that ‘No Michael’s not here yet, sorry,’” Luke smirks. “Honestly Mikey, you’re missing out not being here at half past five, lots of Ashton content.”

“Yes but that would involve, you know, being here at half past five,” Michael replies sarcastically. “Did Em make any tarts for today?” He asks.

“Yeah they look great, she’s done a new orange curd one with chocolate pastry which I’m excited to try.” Luke accepts the change of subject and goes back towards the kitchen. “Do you want to come and grab your boyfriend’s bread? Think that’ll be the last of it then.”

Michael glares at Luke and pretends to trip him up as he walks past, then follows him into the back.

“You’re such a dickhead sometimes you know that,” Michael says grumpily, pulling out the loaves of bread and stacking them on the counter.

Luke laughs, it’s too easy to get a rise out of Michael, particularly first thing in the morning and especially when it comes to Ashton. He opens the fridge again and as always sends a silent thank you to the angel that is Em, their evening baker, and the only reason they’re able to produce enough goods for the cafe. It honestly changed his life when his boss decided to employ an extra baker, now he can actually leave when the cafe closes; she picks up anything that Luke doesn’t manage to finish, as well as shaping the pastries to chill overnight and producing a few dozen tarts for the next day. He checks the new orange curd tarts and their customer favourite, the strawberry ones (perfect as always), and slides them off the shelves.

“You were literally declaring your love for me not 10 minutes ago I believe,” Luke says, checking the fridge to make sure he’s not missed anything.

He turns around frowning at the lack of a bitchy response, but Michael’s distracted by something in one of the crates.

“You okay there?” Luke questions.

“Yes,” Michael mumbles, blushing furiously, attempting to pull the crate out of Luke’s view. Luke quickly walks over, interest piqued, and grabs the crate out of Michael’s hands, ignoring his noise of protest.

In the bottom of the crate there’s one of Michael’s favourite chocolate chip hot cross buns, but instead of a cross on top there’s a carefully shaped ‘M’. Luke laughs delightedly.

“He barely knows who you are, hm?” Luke teases.

“Its..” Michael coughs embarrassed. “It’s probably just a friendly thing.”

Luke rolls his eyes. “Come off it Mikey, that’s the most obvious display of affection in enriched dough form that I’ve ever seen. Where’s my L eh? Nowhere to be seen.”

“Shut up,” Michael says, but he reaches into the crate and pulls out the bun, wrapping it in some baking paper with utmost care, before walking out into the front of the cafe.

“You’re meant to be stocking the actual breads!” Luke calls after him, grabbing the tarts and following Michael out.

Michael just raises his middle finger at him as he gently slides the wrapped bun into his backpack, still blushing.

Luke laughs and goes to fetch them himself, stacking them in the baskets at the side of the counter, ready to be sold or to be sliced for their toasties.

“Right I’m gonna start on tomorrow’s cake, let me know when you need a hand.” Luke says, turning to Michael who’s absentmindedly filling up the coffee grinder with beans and not looking like he’s heard Luke in the slightest.

“Earth to Michael, come in Michael.” Luke nudges Michael’s arm with his elbow and Michael looks up with a start.

“Oh yeah, sorry. That’s fine,” Michael replies quickly.

“Are you going to be okay out here on your own?” Luke jokes. “You look like you could burn yourself on steam or tip grounds everywhere at any minute.”

“Yes Luke,” Michael replies testily. “Now go and make some cake and let me do my job, I’ll call you when it gets busy.”

This is the way it works with the two of them in the morning, Luke getting a head start on his batters while Michael deals with the dribs and drabs of the early customers. When it gets to 8am and the little cafe starts getting really busy, Luke will step out to the front to help, and they will work seamlessly together; Michael tamping coffee and steaming milk expertly, whilst Luke takes orders and fills bags with breakfast pastries and muffins. After the rush dies down, Luke will retreat back into the kitchen and start the doughs for the next days’ croissants, until lunch time and he’ll be back out to give Michael a hand with slicing bread and toasting sandwiches.

He enjoys the buzz of service with Michael, moving round each other with a well practised air and smiling at customers, his favourite bit is getting glimpses of the joy they get from something that he’s created. He’s most comfortable in the kitchen though; in the sweetly calming clouds of icing sugar and the reassuring warmth of the ovens, most at ease on his own with slightly sticky hands, flour perpetually dusting all of his clothes and with a speaker quietly playing his favourite songs into the vanilla scented air.

“Luke!” He hears Michael’s voice float through the door, just as he’s closing the oven door on 3 sandwich pans of fresh raspberry filled sponge.

“Coming!” He responds, setting his timer for 30 minutes, and pinning it to the top of his apron, before washing his hands and heading out of the door to join Michael. He sees there’s a queue building up and quickly steps behind the counter and smiles at the next customer as Michael pours milk into 3 flat whites in quick succession, a perfect leaf in milk foam appearing in each of them with an artful flick of his wrist.

“Hi, what can I get you?” He smiles at the man who’s just approached the counter.

“A small black Americano to take away, and make it quickly, I’ve already been here 15 minutes and some of us have actual jobs to work you know,” an older man in a suit barks at him, not looking up from his phone.

“So sorry for the delay Sir, we’re very busy as you can see. Can I take a name for that?” Luke grits his teeth but maintains the smile on his face with some effort.

“It’s Richard,” the man says pompously. “And maybe you should employ more staff if you’re this busy.”

“We’ll take your feedback on board,” Luke replies, his smile coming forced. He writes the man's order, and “Dick” in tiny writing underneath on a cup before turning round and putting it on top of the coffee machine, rolling his eyes at Michael as he does so. Michael smirks in return, pressing his lips together to quell a laugh and slotting the portafilter into place under the grinder.

“That’ll be £2.00 please.”

“Actually I think I’d like to speak to the manager about the poor service before I pay,” The man says brusquely.

“She’s not here at the moment unfortunately,” Luke responds, not bothering to maintain the smile.

“Well then I’d like to speak to the most senior person here,” The man continues.

“You’re looking at him,” Luke replies coolly, crossing his arms. He’s never been good at dealing with difficult customers, which is why he prefers being in his quiet domain in the kitchen, but he’s dealt with men like this before, all talk but no action when pushed.

“I think you’re being incredibly rude, you’ve made me wait a ridiculous amount of time for a coffee which is priced extortionately, and now you’re going to be disrespectful to my face,” The man snaps.

“Maybe if people like you just paid and left then nobody would have to wait as long.” A calm voice comes from behind the man.

Luke looks around the rapidly reddening man in front of him to see the source of the voice and sees a man around his age in a suit, with a pair of headphones slung around his neck. Luke tries not to stare but the man is gorgeous, all deep brown eyes the colour of rich dark chocolate ganache, and swooping dark hair, his eyebrows raised and plump lips pursed slightly.

The older man starts spluttering angrily, “And who do you think you are to say something like that to me?”

The younger man just shrugs and continues to look at him calmly, not bothering to elaborate. Luke takes the opportunity to hold out the card machine towards the older man.

“£2.00 please,” He repeats.

The man scowls and taps his card against the machine.

“You can wait at the end for your drink,” Luke says with a dry smile.

The man grunts but moves away to the side with a glare.

“Thanks,” Luke says quietly, smiling at the younger man as he approaches.

The man’s lips spread into a genuine smile and Luke thinks they look even better that way if that were possible. “No worries, I think you were handling it fine, it was just an observation.” His voice is warm and deep, reminding Luke of a buttery caramel sauce.

Luke bites his lip and tries not to blush. “What can I get for you?”

“Flat white, please,” The man says, still smiling at Luke.

“Name?” Luke attempts to hide his face behind the cup he’s just picked up.

“Calum,” He says. “But I think I’ll take that to have in if you don’t mind?”

“Of course!” Luke says quickly, fumbling his pen slightly as he switches the paper cup for a ceramic one, peeling a sticky note so he can write Calum’s order. “Anything to eat?”

“I’m new here, what do you recommend?” Calum says, cocking his head slightly before looking over the display case. “It all looks amazing.”

Luke definitely blushes this time and clears his throat. “Well the pains au chocolat are quite good I think,” he says nervously.

“Let’s go with that then.” Calum smiles again and Luke thinks his legs might have melted into his shoes but he can’t seem to move them to check if that’s true or not.

“Or if you wanted something sweeter you could go with one of the lemon muffins, or the strawberry cupc-”

“Luke,” Michael interrupts from behind him. “Please stop flirting with this nice man and get on with serving the other eight nice people we have waiting?” He begs.

If Luke thought he was blushing before it's nothing compared to the heat he feels in his face now. He turns to Michael and throws him daggers.

“The pain au chocolat sounds perfect.” Calum fishes out his wallet. “And your colleague’s right, I’m being a bit of a hypocrite after telling that twat to hurry up aren’t I?” He pushes a hand through his hair and smiles apologetically.

“No, you’re fine it’s no problem at all,” Luke manages to get out. “That’ll be £5.60.”

Luke lets Calum tap his card on the machine and then busies himself with pulling the pastry out and onto a plate which he places on a tray with a napkin, ready for Michael to put the coffee on when it's been made.

“Why don’t you go and sit down, Luke will bring it over in a few minutes if you’re not in too much of a rush?” Michael suggests, pressing the buttons on the coffee machine and sliding a cup underneath to catch the espresso starting to stream out.

Calum looks bemusedly at Michael for a second before shrugging. “That’d be great, yeah. My office is just round the corner so I’ve got a few minutes. Thanks… Luke.” He says Luke’s name like he’s deciding how he likes the taste of it in his mouth, before quirking his lips once more, and heading to a table in the corner of the cafe.

“What are you doing?” Luke hisses at Michael as he takes the next customer’s order, writing quickly on another cup and fishing change out of the till when the woman hands over a five pound note. “You were just making a point about how busy we were!”

“I’m not telling you to go and sit down with him,” Michael whispers back, only just audible over the sound of the coffee grinder. “But he’s obviously into you, just take his coffee and flirt a bit and then come back and help me!”

Luke takes the most recent batch of completed coffees and distributes them to the waiting customers, smiling slightly when the rude man snatches it off him and storms out on his phone without even checking the name on the cup. He takes another order and passes it to Michael, just as Michael finishes off a flat white with a perfect heart.

“There,” He says in a pleased voice, setting it down next to the pain au chocolat on Calum’s tray. “Now off you go.”

Luke smiles at the woman he’s just served then glares at the tray and at Michael. “What have you put a heart on it for!” He yelps.

“It’s called flirting!” Michael starts steaming another jug of milk.

“He’s going to think you like him not me!” Luke protests.

“Just go!” Michael hisses, finishing up another coffee and handing it to a waiting customer. “Hi, how are you?” He intercepts the next person waiting at the counter before Luke can do anything about it.

Luke huffs noisily and picks up the tray reluctantly. He wouldn’t go over at all, but Calum did help him with the arsehole customer so the least he can do is actually provide the service he came in for and give the man his coffee. He heads over to where Calum is sat, with his headphones on and jiggling his knee as he types something into his phone. He looks up at the sounds of Luke putting his plate down on the table and smiles gratefully. Luke then sets down the coffee next to the plate and tries to tamp down his instinct to run away immediately. Calum looks at the coffee and then up at Luke, eyes twinkling and a blush in his cheeks.

“Hope you have a great day!” Luke squeaks out and speed walks back to the counter.

“So?” Michael asks as he fishes out a croissant and places it in a bag, tapping the end of the tongs on the glass.

“Uh, I told him to have a good day then ran away before he could respond,“ Luke mutters, snatching the bag off Michael and handing it off to the customer in front of him.

“Luke -” Michael starts.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Luke snaps. “Make coffee.”

“Okay boss,” Michael says, barely repressing a giggle.

Luke spends the next 15 minutes regretting every life choice he’s ever made and resolutely not looking towards the corner Calum is sat in, focusing entirely on the rush of customers. At about 8:45 he sees out the corner of his eye that Calum has stood up, brushing a few crumbs off his knee and patting his pockets. Luke turns around and busies himself with writing the next order on a cup for Michael so that Calum can leave without making eye contact with him. When he deems that it’s been long enough, he turns back to the counter, but standing just off to the side is Calum, scuffing a hand up through the back of his hair and smiling shyly at Luke again.

“Just wanted to say, an inspired choice on the pain au chocolat.” He says. “Send my compliments to the chef,”

“Oh erm, thanks, I will.” Luke stutters out.

“Bye, Luke,” Calum says. “Maybe see you tomorrow, and... Hope you have a great day too.” His face breaks out into a wider smile that reminds Luke of the feeling of getting just the right consistency for macaron batter, or a perfectly smooth finish on a cake or the way good puff pastry flakes into the perfect fragments when you cut through a mille-feuille. Or something.

With that Calum slips his headphones back onto his head and leaves the cafe.

“You are a useless sack of shit you know that,” Michael scoffs at him.

“Fuck off,” Luke mutters under his breath. “Two words. Ashton. Irwin.” Michael glares back at him.

They get through the last half hour of the rush as normal, Luke pausing only briefly to pull the sponges out of the oven, and he’s twitching more than ever to get back into the safety of his kitchen with some dough in his hands and the comforting whirr of his mixers.

“Okay I’m all good here, you can go,” Michael smiles at him shaking his head.

Luke basically runs through the doors into the back and inhales deeply. God, he needs to get a grip.

It continues like this over the next few weeks. Calum will come in most mornings, and sometimes he’s in a rush, smiling apologetically as he orders to take away. Most mornings though, he will appear earlier, choose something to eat on Luke’s recommendation and sits at the table in the corner for 20 minutes before complimenting what he’s eaten on his way out. Luke never speaks to him short of suggesting a new pastry or muffin (and maybe he’s also developing new options everyday just to be able to give Calum something else to praise), but he does spend quite a lot of time looking at Calum sitting in his corner, long fingers wrapping around his mug of coffee and mouth chewing thoughtfully on whatever Luke’s provided him with whilst he jiggles his knee to his music.

Luke swears that sometimes when he chances one of these looks over to him whilst he’s serving a customer, Calum is looking back at him, but his brown eyes always blink away as soon as Luke’s catch them.

Predictably, Michael is absolutely insufferable about it.

“Loverboy’s looking at you again,” He smirks, checking the most recent order Luke has written for him.

“Shut up, Mikey,” Luke says petulantly. “He is not.”

“He’s always looking at you, Luke,” Michael laughs. “You’re actually driving me mad, please just ask him out or something, you two have the most obvious thing for each other ever. ”

“We do not, he doesn’t like me like that,” Luke protests. “He could be looking at you for all we know, you were the one who put a heart on his flat white,” he adds, sourly.

“You should see his face drop when he comes in here and you’re already in the back,” Michael responds knowingly. “He looks like someone’s pissed in his coffee every time you’re not here to stammer at him about what cakes you’ve made.”

Luke’s face flames red and he turns his back on Michael deliberately to serve the next customer, as he hears Michael’s suppressed giggles behind him. Look, he knows Michael might have a point and that he could just talk to Calum, but Luke doesn’t really know how, unless he’s talking about pastry or ganache or sponges words just don’t come that easily to him. Especially when faced with someone who looks like Calum does. He sighs and closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them, as if summoned by Luke’s thoughts, there Calum is at the edge of the counter.

“Blueberry muffin was particularly good today,” He says quietly with his usual smile. “Have a good day, Luke.” He gives a small wave and exits the cafe. Luke opens his mouth to say something before he can leave, but nothing comes out so he just closes it again. He kicks the edge of the counter grumpily.

“I’m literally the worst ever,” He groans, spinning round and going through to the kitchen, swinging the door behind him, Michael’s laughs following him through.

Luke is having what he thinks might be the most disastrous day ever. It’s after 5pm, the cafe has just closed and he would normally think about going home soon but Em’s got the day off and he’s not been able to make half of the stuff he needs to for tomorrow. Every ganache he’s attempted has split, he’s burnt one batch of cupcakes and under-cooked another so they’ve sunk in the centre, he’s crystallised his caramel so its unusable, and the chocolate he tempered for the triple chocolate layer cake he has planned has come out mottled and dull. He hates to admit it but the worst part of it was that he didn’t even see Calum this morning, he worked out the front much longer than he normally does in the hope of seeing the other man, but he never turned up. Michael had just raised his eyebrows and given him a knowing grin as he had slumped back into the kitchen at well past half-nine. He sighs at himself as he pushes a hand through his curly hair which he’s had to pull back into a tiny ponytail at the nape of his neck, and tips another set of cakes into the bin.

He hears a knock on the back door of the kitchen, and the door opening. A curly brown head appears round the door frame.

“Hi Luke, Is this a bad time?” Ashton says, surveying the disarray before him, bowls and utensils on every surface, half finished cakes and fillings littering the other available spaces.

Luke huffs out a laugh and wipes his hands on his apron. “No you’re fine come on in, just having one of those days. Sorry for the state of it in here.”

Ashton smiles at him and steps into the kitchen, going to the store where he knows they keep the empty bread crates. “No worries at all mate! Oh I brought my flatmate with me, hope you don’t mind. Calum had the day off today and I roped him into helping me do the pick-ups.”

Luke’s mouth drops open as Calum Calum sidesteps into the kitchen and smiles at Luke embarrassed. “Uh, hi?”

Luke just gapes, spatula limp in one hand.

“Just going out the front for a sec, Cal, just need to check something with Michael!” Ashton calls quickly exiting the room. Luke thinks he spots a smirk on Ashton’s face and his eyes narrow in suspicion.

“Uh, sorry for barging in on you like this,” Calum starts, standing awkwardly by the door still. “When Ash said he did deliveries for cafes in the local area I didn’t know he meant yours as well.”

“Missed you this morning,” Luke blurts out, then promptly feels himself turn red, again. Jesus Christ where did that come from? He wants to disappear like, immediately and wonders whether he could shut himself in the walk-in without Calum noticing.

A small pleased smile appears on Calum’s face and he blushes slightly. “I thought it might be a bit desperate to also turn up when I’m not even in the office. But I guess I’m here anyway.”

“Well I’m glad,” Luke says quietly, ducking his head and biting his lip.

Calum’s eyes twinkle at him. “So this is where the magic happens?” He asks, examining his surroundings.

Luke groans. “Don’t look at it like his,” he begs. “I’m usually such an organised worker I promise, I’m just, having a few issues.”

Calum smiles and comes over to stand next to Luke. Luke inhales sharply and thinks that Calum smells like the freshly baked bread in Ashton’s van but also something else, sweet and spicy, like a hot cinnamon and apple cake or a warm speculoos biscuit just out of the oven.

“Can I help with anything while I’m here?” He asks softly, reaching out hesitantly and barely grazing Luke’s elbow. Luke focuses on trying to regulate his breaths which is proving almost impossible with Calum standing so close to him, the feeling of his warm hand through his sleeve and the sight of the concerned smile on his face.

“It’ll be okay I think,” he manages to get out breathily. “Thanks though, that’s very sweet of you.”

“No, I think that’s you,” Calum says quietly, reddening a bit but looking up to meet Luke’s eyes.

He reaches out and brushes a hand gently through an escaping curl on Luke’s face.

“You’ve got a bit of flour here.” He says quietly, tilting his head to one side and twisting Luke’s hair around his finger briefly. “And here,” Calum continues, skimming his fingers across Luke’s cheekbone. “Here too,” he murmurs, stepping even closer to Luke and dragging his fingertips under Luke’s chin and down the side of his neck, leaving them to rest curling slightly into the collar of Luke’s shirt and looking at Luke in the eyes. Luke’s not sure if he can breathe, lost in the gentle stroke of Calum’s hand and the swirling chocolate of his eyes, feeling the pink blush dusting across his skin, left in the wake of Calum’s touch. His eyes flicker down to Calum’s lips, and he sees them curve into a smile, before he leans forward slightly and catches Luke’s own lips in a soft kiss.

“Hm,” Calum murmurs as he pulls away slightly. “You taste sweet too.”

Luke honestly thinks this might be the best moment of his life so far, and slides his hand over Calum’s shoulder to pull him back towards him, but just as he does he hears a scuffling sound from outside the swing door into the main cafe.

“Mikey is that you?” Luke asks suspiciously, stepping away from Calum slightly and turning towards the door. Calum steps back too, but loops an arm loosely around Luke’s waist, fingers playing with the ties of his apron.

“No,” a voice comes through the door.

“Get in here,” Luke says bossily, “You too Ashton I know you’re out there.”

The two of them appear in the doorway, Michael having the good grace to look a little ashamed but Ashton doesn’t even bother, a huge shit eating grin on his face.

“What is going on here?” Luke demands, narrowing his eyes at the pair of them. He’s trying to stay stern but it's proving very difficult when he can feel Calum’s hands skim along his side and him gently nose his shoulder blade as he huffs out a giggle behind him.

“What I think is going on is that you, Lukey, and dearest Cal Pal might have been having a moment?” Ashton smirks at the two of them.

“I don’t know how you two are involved in this but I know you are and I want you to explain yourselves,” Luke says petulantly. He then looks at Ashton and Michael closer and catches sight of their hands clasped, hidden slightly behind Ashton.

“What is going on here?!” Luke repeats again, gesturing at their hands. He sees Michael (and Ashton come to think of it) every day, how has he missed this? Probably because he’s been lost in thoughts of Calum for the last 3 weeks he reasons with himself.

Michael blushes to the roots of his hair and pulls away from Ashton slightly but Ashton just tugs him into his body, curving his hand around Michael's hip and pressing a kiss into his neck before releasing him.

“Well Michael and I started talking the other week, and we found out that by some miracle that the Calum that happened to be coming in everyday to stare at Luke for 20 minutes and leave, was the same Calum who lives in my flat and won’t stop talking about the gorgeous cake maker who works at the cafe round the corner from his office.” Ashton says, laughing, as Calum makes a wounded noise of protest and hides his face in Luke’s shoulder. “And this very Luke that Calum wouldn’t stop talking about happened to be the Luke that I deliver bread to every morning and apparently won’t stop throwing longing glances at Calum from the other side of the counter when he thinks he’s not looking.”

Luke squeaks, and feels Calum giggle behind him, both arms coming round his waist and dropping his chin onto Luke’s shoulder.

“And you two thought you would mastermind a plan then I suppose,” Calum says amusedly.

“Why aren’t you more annoyed by this,” Luke gripes, turning his head to try to glare at Calum but managing only to brush his nose against his cheek.

“Because I got what I wanted out of it, regardless of the method,” Calum says sweetly, and Luke blushes again.

“That doesn’t explain.. This!” Luke gestures at Michael and Ashton, he doesn’t know quite why his brain has fixated on this development when he has Calum basically draped along his back but what has happened in the last 10 minutes has been too much for his brain to handle.

“Well we had to come up with a plan so I asked Ashton if he wanted to go for food,” Michael finally pipes up, a small pleased smile on his face.

“You did?” Luke asks in what he acknowledges is probably quite a rude way but this was a turn of events he was not expecting.

“Well maybe watching you pine so disgustingly made me want to do something about it,” Michael retorts, but there’s no heat in it.

“I knew the hot cross bun would work,” Ashton says solemnly, and Michael jabs him in the ribs with his elbow.

“Okay, I’ve decided that’s enough of the two of you,” Calum says. “Go and scheme elsewhere now please.”

Ashton laughs and salutes them before tugging Michael out of the back door.

“I honestly can’t believe this,” Luke begins, “they think they can just meddle in our business and force us into the same room together and that we’ll just kiss and they can pat themselves on the back for a job well done?”

Calum is quiet beside him and Luke turns to look at him. “Well?”

Calum smiles at him, that one that makes Luke feel like he’s floating in sweet mallow clouds and tips his head slightly to the side. “I mean I’m sorry Luke but that’s exactly how it happened, so yes I suppose they can.”

Luke begins to make a noise of protest but Calum just grabs the front of his apron and pulls him back towards him.

“You can carry this on later, but can we stop talking about Michael and Ashton for one second? I was sort of busy before they came in,” Calum whispers over Luke’s lips.

“Yeah okay,” Luke responds, leaning into Calum and catching his lips back against his own.

Calum pulls away after a couple of minutes and brushes another rogue curl out of Luke’s face. “So about that help you turned down earlier, I’m not taking no for an answer. I’ll start cleaning some of these things up and you can get on and do what you do best.” Calum leans in and gives him one last peck before heading over to the sink and starting to run the tap.

Luke smiles, slightly dazed and runs his fingers over his lips, thinking Calum tastes pretty sweet himself, a little bit like the warm vanilla air in his kitchen and a lot like home.

#5sos fanfiction #cake fic #5sos fic #cake #meg fic #this is meg from the past as i have SCHEDULED this as i am busy #ya girl wrote some cake content and it's entirely self-serving #this is probably too long to read nicely on tumblr i should probably sort an ao3 acc #also apologies for any errors im still getting to grips with this and i didn't get anyone to read this for me first #also FUN FACT all the things luke talks about making are my own recipes and things i make 😌 thats how self serving this js

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