Fuck, In Every Sense of the Word (cashton&muke)
1. this is based off a post on this website but idk where it is
2. so fucikgn fluffy
3. also kinda long im sorry
4. (my grammar is good in my writing, this is the lazy part)
The busboy is really cute. Like. Fuckign. Okay. It’s fine, really. Luke isn’t even staring. (Except he totally is.) Deep breaths. A baseball cap sits backwards on his head and the tips of his hair are bleached, but his roots have grown out and his natural brown color shows. His green eyes have glazed over a bit as he wipes the same table for the fifth time.
“Hi! It’s nice to meet you, my name is Ashton. I’m your best friend and am not anywhere near that table in the corner. If you could maybe listen to me complain about my History lecture, that would be awesome.”
“Fuck off. Besides, I’ve heard you complain about your lecture a million times. I’ve never seen him before. Though, I wouldn’t mind seeing him again.”
“Thirsty much? Maybe chill a little.”
“Can I get you all anything to drink?” A waiter with brown eyes and a name tag reading ‘Hello! My name is none of your business’ asks.
“Um-I, um, yes, we’d, er-” Ashton stutters continuously while trying to take his eyes off the waiter long enough to look at the menu.
“Ashton, you look a little flushed, are you feeling okay?” Luke asks Ashton, his laughter barely contained by mock-concern. “Why don’t you get an iced coffee, to help you cool off. And for me,” Luke grins at the waiter, and then looks back at Ashton, “tea.”
“Alrighty then. I’ll be back with your drinks in just a minute.” The waiter beams at the two.
Once the waiter’s ass has disappeared behind the doors to the kitchen, Ashton reverts his attention to Luke’s shit-eating grin. A quirk of Luke’s eyebrow has the contented smile on Ashton’s lips contorted into a grimace. “Fight me.” Luke’s grin only grows.
“I’m bored of this conversation.” Luke sighs dramatically.
Luke ignores Ashton’s weak attempt at an insult. “Entertain me.”
Ashton groans but concedes, inevitably. “Fine. Let’s play a game.”
“I don’t know! Do I have to do everything around here?” Ashton throws up his hands.
“Well… I don’t know how to put this. But, uh, yes. Remember? In the car on the way over here you said it yourself. ‘Luke, you are so useless. I swear, I have to do everything myself.’”
“That’s the second time you’ve said that to me in half as many minutes.”
“Shut up.” Luke glares, but lets him continue. “What about Truth or Dare?”
“Are we 13 and at a sleepover?” Luke questions, unimpressed.
“In terms of maturity? Yes, yes we are.”
“We are not playing Truth or Dare in the middle of a restaurant.”
“We know literally everything about each other.”
“Fuck, Marry, Kill?” Luke ponders this for a second, attempting to come up with a legitimate reason not to play.
“We really are as mature as 13-year-olds, aren’t we?” He murmurs, shaking his head in exasperation.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Okay, let’s start easy. The Chrises: Hemsworth, Evans, Pratt.”
“This is easy?” Luke mutters, eyes wide. Ashton cackles in a way that’s a lot scarier than it should be. “Fuck, um. Fuck, uh…”
“I can’t tell if you’re trying to decide who to fuck, or you’re just generally stressed.”
“Okay, um. Marry Evans, fuck Hemsworth, and, oh god, no! I guess kill Pratt. I don’t want to do that! This sucks, this is the worst.”
“I would fuck Evans, marry Pratt, kill Hemsworth.”
“I couldn’t kill Hemsworth! I wouldn’t.” Luke puts hand on his forehead, in a somewhat ridiculous fashion. “Okay, how about Hayley Williams, Selena Gomez, Shailene Woodley.”
“Wow, okay. Um…” Ashton pauses, scrunching up his face in thought. “Yea, fuck Selena, marry Hayley, kill Shailene.”
Luke tsks. “Marry Shailene, fuck Hayley, kill Selena.”
“I’ve got one! Lucy, Franklin, and Peppermint Patty from Peanuts.”
“You are sick-minded.” Luke says, glaring across the table. Ashton’s lips spread into a wide grin, and he lets out a slight chuckle. “Fuck Peppermint Patty, marry Franklin, kill Lucy.” Luke says with a decisive nod.
“That was an awful quick decision for such a,” Ashton makes air quotes with his fingers, “‘sick’ group.”
“Easy. Fuck Lucy, marry Franklin, kill Patty.”
“Franklin just seems like husband material, right?”
“Um, here are your drinks.” The waiter interjects, as he returns with the drinks. It’s as if someone’s painted a pink stripe across Ashton’s cheeks, his blush is so bright.
“Thanks.” Ashton mutters into his lap.
“Yea, thanks so much, None of Your Business.” The waiter looks somewhat offended before he realizes Luke is just reading his name tag.
“Right. Would you all like to order?” Luke looks to Ashton to see if he’s chosen what he’s going to eat. He’s still gawping at the waiter like he’s Jesus Reincarnate.
“You know, we haven’t even looked at our menus. Could you come back in a few?” The waiter smiles graciously before making his way back to the kitchen.
“Get your shit together, Ashton.” Luke leans across the table to (not-so) lightly hit him with the menu that has yet to be opened.
“Leave me alone? What did I do to deserve this? I am so nice and kind all the time?” Luke frowns at him, completely unconvinced. “Shut up.” Ashton says, sticking his tongue out.
“I didn’t even say anything!” Luke throws up his hands, entirely too done with his best friend.
“Whatever. What do you want to eat?”
“Um. Um, I think, uh…” Luke trails off, not even looking at his menu.
“What are you-” Ashton turns to see what Luke is staring at and finds the same busboy from earlier, now helping their waiter with a big order at another table. “Oh.”
The two boys sit in silence, each trapped in their own minds. The waiter and the busboy are returning to the kitchen far too quickly, and Ashton has turned his attention back to deciding what to eat. He looks up to ask Luke if maybe they ought to split a pizza? But Luke is still staring at the doors to the kitchen, lost in thought.
“I’m not saying you can’t talk but…” Ashton grabs Luke’s tea and takes a sip.
“Oh, fuck off.” Luke grumbles. Ashton laughs, but gives Luke his drink back.
“Do you want to split a pizza?”
“Only if there are banana peppers on it.”
“Fuck, marry, kill, Elmo, Cookie Monster, Oscar the Grouch.”
“Says Mr Peanuts Characters.”
“At least they’re human!” Ashton exclaims.
“Fuck Cookie Monster, marry Elmo, kill Oscar.” Ashton sighs, dejected.
“Really? Cookie Monster?” Luke looks genuinely surprised.
“I mean, yea, I’d fuck Cookie Monster.” Ashton shrugs.
A cough prevents Luke from further probing. “Um… Are you all ready to er, order?”
Luke breaks eye contact with Ashton to look at their waiter, who’s nervously fiddling with his pen. Ashton sits stock still. The only way Luke knows he’s alive is the way his face pales when their waiter first speaks, and then reverts back to the bright pink that Ashton seems to usually flush when their waiter comes around.
“Yea, yes we do. We’ll have a medium pizza with banana peppers and…” Luke glances at Ashton to see if there are any more toppings he’d like, “and that’ll be all.” Luke smiles at the waiter before handing him their two menus.
“Alright, it’ll be out in about fifteen minutes.” The waiter starts to turn back to the kitchen, but rotates back quickly, “I would fuck Cookie Monster too, by the way.” He then quickly returns to the kitchen.
“Well that was the worst thing that’s ever happened in the world, ever.”
“Maybe you’re exaggerating a tiny bit?”
“No, most definitely not.”
“Why not?” Luke pouts, jutting out his bottom lip.
“Because, Luke. Stop being like this.”
“No, I don’t understand, Ash.” Ashton glares at Luke, but fails to respond. “Can you please explain?”
“Luke, I swear…” Ashton sighs, dropping his head into his hands.
“Fuck, marry, kill, our waiter, the busboy, and, um…" Luke pauses, unsure of who to add to his list. He searches the restaurant for someone attractive enough to make Ashton squirm. He glances past Ashton and catches a glimpse of his reflection in the window. “And me.”
“If you say kill me, we’re going to have to fight.”
“That’s not much of a threat, we both know you would lose.”
“That’s a bit contradictory, isn’t it?”
“Whatever. Shut up. Fuck off. Answer.”
Ashton chuckles, but answers all the same. “Kill the busboy, fuck the waiter, and marry you.”
“You would kill the busboy?” Luke gasps. “Wait." Luke holds up a hand, as if physically asking to Ashton to stop. “You would marry me?” Luke puts his hands over his heart. “I’m flattered.”
“I change my mind, I’m marrying the waiter, fucking the busboy, and murdering you with a blunt instrument, so it’s extremely painful.”
“Honestly, I can’t blame you. The busboy is beautiful. I want him to have my children.” Luke nods in earnest. Ashton smirks.
“What?” Luke’s eyebrows knit together. “Is there tea on my face?”
“No, no.” Ashton’s smile only seems to grow, “You’re just so whipped for someone you’ve never met.”
“I’m not whipped!” Luke flushes.
“Mhmm. Your blush disagrees.”
“Nah.” Ashton shakes his head. “Fuck, marry, kill: Busboy, Waiter, me.”
“Fuck the busboy, marry you, kill the waiter.” Luke replies after a breath. Ashton quirks an eyebrow.
“Oh? You aren’t going to marry the busboy.”
“Well, it’s like you said... I barely know him. He could just be a really hot serial killer. You and I, our marriage would be loveless, but I wouldn’t be dead. And I would just have multiple sidechicks.”
“Or sidedicks.” Luke agrees.
Ashton reaches across the table to reach the salt and spills Luke’s drink everywhere. “Ashton! What the fuck! What the hell were you even going to salt?!”
“Why are you being so wei-”
“Excuse me,” Ashton raises his hand, waving someone over, “would you mind helping us clean this up?”
Within seconds, the blondish brunette is standing at the pair’s table, a towel in hand and a rosy tint on his cheekbones.
“I would love to help, but I need to use the bathroom.” Ashton beams, a glint in his eye.
“Ashton.” Luke spits, gritting his teeth.
“I really have to pee, Luke.” Ashton offers Luke a very fake pout and leaves the booth.
“Ashton Fletcher Irwin!” Luke all but shouts after him. The busboy rocks back and forth on his heels.
“My company really isn’t that bad, y’know. And I’m not a serial killer.” He shrugs, starting to mop up the mess on the table.
“I-I didn’t think, I just- um, sorry, I’m-” Luke stammers, unable to string words together in a sensible order.
“Shh...” The busboy puts a finger to Luke’s lips.
“Er...” Luke sits there, listless. The busboy moves around dishes and continues to soak up the tea. All Luke can do is sit there like a dumbass, staring at the sharp angle of the boy’s jawline and thinking about how warm the boy’s hand was.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have- I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just- You were stammering, and I- well, I-” Luke interrupts to busboy, putting a finger to his lips.
“Shh.” The busboy’s lips curve into a (really cute, oh my god) smile. Luke pulls his hand back to his lap. His cheeks are pink again.
“Luke,” The boy pulls his eyebrows together, “Suits you. I’ll tell your waiter to bring you a new tea.” And then the mysterious busboy turns tail and walks back to the kitchen.
“So.” Ashton says, sliding back into his seat.
“So.” Luke stares across the table at Ashton. “How was your piss?”
“And you’re a little bitch, but what else is new?”
“I’m not saying I hate you, but...”
“I change my mind. I’m marrying the busboy and killing you.”
“The busboy. What’s his name.”
“You didn’t ask for his name. You talked to him for like five minutes and you didn’t get his name.”
“Doing what?” Ashton all but screeches, “Daydreaming?!”
“Honestly.” Ashton shakes his head.
“Here’s your pizza guys.” The waiter puts the pizza down, “Your tea,” He puts Luke’s tea on the table in front of him, “and, Ashton, do you want a refill?” He starts chewing on his pen, looking intently at Ashton.
“You, um, you know my- er, um... no. Thank you. No thank you. But, a water would be nice?”
“Sure thing!” The waiter is a little too excited to bring a customer water in Luke’s opinion, but Ashton is also far too nervous to order one. They just might be a match made in heaven. The waiter heads back towards the kitchen.
“You didn’t get his name?! What were you doing? Daydreaming!”
“Shut up.” Ashton groans.
“Whatever.” Ashton grumbles, taking two slices. Luke rolls his eyes, grabbing a few slices of his own.
“Thank you, um, thanks so much.” The waiter stands there a few seconds too long, just looking at Ashton.
“Right.” He straightens his back, as if knocking himself out of stupor, “If you need anything, I’ll be over there.” He points to the kitchen. “So... yea.”
“Wait! Who should I ask for? If I need something.”
“Calum. I’m Calum.” And he turns around and doesn’t quite sprint back to the kitchen.
“You got his name though. I envy you that.”
“Chill. Eat your pizza.” Ashton grabs a third piece.
“God, you’re annoying when you’re hungry. And when you’re not. You’re actually just always annoying.”
“Wow, thanks. Remind me to never ask you to be my wingman ever.”
“I have a feeling you won’t need a wingman after today.”
“What’s that meant to mean?”
“And that was irrelevant. Are you going to really going to kill me? Is that why I won’t need a wingman? Because, it’s just a game. You’re not actually supposed to fuck, marry, and kill the people you say you will in the game.”
“Shut up. I was just trying to say I think you and Calum,” Luke does a little dance with his eyebrows that just makes Ashton uncomfortable, “might be thE START OF SOMETHING NEW!” Ashton puts his head in his hands because why, of all people, is this idiot his best friend? “No, but seriously,” Luke pokes him, “I think he likes you.” Luke says, finishing his third piece of pizza.
“I think he’s about as straight as a shape with a 2πr perimeter.”
“Did you just fucking say that.” Luke shrugs at Ashton’s appalled expression. “I hate you.”
“The feeling is mutual.” Luke finishes his fourth slice.
“Dessert?” Calum asks, coming over to their table. Luke glances at Ashton. No response. If he plans on asking this boy out anytime soon, he needs to work on his voice box functionality when their waiter comes around.
“I think the check will do. Should we bring it back there, or...?” Luke asks as Calum hands him the check.
“Thanks, Calum.” Luke smiles. “You know,” he says turning to Ashton, “if you ever intend to make a move, you need to actually speak. As of current, I’m pretty sure he thinks I like him, which couldn’t be farther from the truth.”
“Hell no, Luke. Get your hands off my man!”
“Okay, a) calm down, b) people are staring, so c) calm down more. D) I don’t like him, e) he isn’t your man,” Luke puts his pointer finger up at Ashton’s indignant expression, “f) yet, and g) my hands aren’t anywhere near him.”
“Jesus this isn’t kindergarten, you and your alphabet need to chill. Also, he will be my man, and your hands better never be anywhere near him.”
“Thank you all for coming to eat with us!” Calum beams as Luke hands back the check and two twenties.
“You owe me twenty bucks Ashton. And I believe you owe this gentleman a thank you.” Luke stands up to leave. “I’ll be in the car, if you ever manage to open your mouth.”
“Ashton Fletcher! Language! Please do not use expletives in public, there could be children about!” Ashton just glares as Luke exits the restaurant.
“Ashton, I am so sorry,” Calum wrings his hands together, “I’ll be right back, I just have to take of something real quick. Please wait?” Calum asks, a worried expression plaguing his chiseled features.
“Of course.” A smile graces Ashton’s lips, and it’s bright in the way that reminds Calum of the sun, but soft in the way that reminds him of it setting on the ocean.
Calum rushes back to the kitchen, and less than a minute later, he and the busboy are walking back out at Olympic speed. The busboy continues towards the exit and Calum makes his way back to Ashton.
“Sorry, I kind of...” Calum trails off when his gaze switches from the door to Ashton.
“No, yea. Of course.” Ashton breaks himself out of the trance he seems to fall into every time Calum is around.
“Do we have to talk about that? I’d really rather not.”
“Aw, c’mon! It’s cute.” Calum pauses as if he’s about to say something else, but he isn’t quite sure he should. “You’re cute.”
“I-” Ashton almost says he isn’t, but Luke’s been telling him he needs to learn to accept compliments, “Thank you.” The silence hangs in the air for a minute. “So, what’s your middle name.”
“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Maybe I’ll tell you later.”
“A couple days, maybe. Over french bread and cheese that tastes expensive, but I got for free from my sister who works at a cheese shop.”
“Maybe at an overlook where we can watch the sunset. It’s a bit of a hike but,” Ashton looks Calum up and down, “I don’t think that’ll be a problem for you.” (And if Ashton is disproportionately proud of himself for not fainting, no one needs to know.)
“How’s Friday sound?” Calum grins.
“How’s I’ll pick you up at 7 sound?” Ashton grins back.
“Perfect.” Calum hands Ashton his phone and Ashton inputs his number.
“Text me.” Ashton turns around to leave, and congratulate himself on what may have been the most successful flirting of his life.
“Oi!” Ashton looks over his shoulder at Calum. “Thanks for the tip.”
Calum lets his eyes drift down to Ashton’s butt, “Yea, but your tip was better.” He winks cheekily, and Ashton thinks he could get used to this.
Michael bursts through the doors to the parking lot. “Where, where, where!” He mutters, tugging at the short hair sticking out from his baseball cap. He spots broad shoulders and blond hair a couple of rows over. “Luke!”
Luke spins around, not knowing quite what to look for. “Busboy?” Luke looks confused, concerned, maybe a tinge hopeful, but Michael’s probably imagining that.
Michael maneuvers around the shoddy parking jobs towards Luke. “Hey. Hi.” He smiles, a tad shyer than before.
“Um, hi. Is everything okay?” Luke’s face pales for a second. “Ashton- Ashton isn’t hurt is he, because I-”
“No, he’s alright.” Michael puts his hand on Luke’s shoulder to calm him down, “I just wanted to- to talk to you.” Luke smiles, just a little.
“I know you’re a tea guy, but, I know this hole-in-the-wall coffee shop where they sometimes have music. I’ve heard it’s a pretty good place for first dates.”
“Were you going to ask someone out?” Luke asks. Michael honestly isn’t sure whether he’s kidding, or if he honestly doesn’t know Michael is trying to ask him out. “Tinder date?”
“Not a Tinder date? Who then?”
“Luke, please.” Luke lifts an eyebrow (A single eyebrow! How does he do that? Michael’s eyebrows do not work independent of each other.) “You, Luke. Would you like to go to this kind of lame coffee shop I know, where the lighting is low but the music is good, and the people are quiet. Would you go on a date with me?”
“I might, maybe. Probably. Normally. But I can’t.” And Michael’s face falls, and Luke might cry, but goddammit, he’s going to stay strong, because this is only fair.
“I understand. I didn’t mean to bother you. I really need to be getting back anyway, um-”
“I can’t, because my mum always told me not to go places with strange men you don’t know. And a certain busboy I find awful cute never told me his name.”
“You dick. I was about to go cry into my dish towel, you know.”
“Oh you were not, you are so over-dramatic.”
“I was! It’s not every day a really cute guy comes into your workplace and tries to flirt with you but is too nervous, but in being nervous only gets cuter! I was very upset!”
“I thought that was very obvious. Was it not? Let me clarify: I think you are probably both the cutest and the hottest guy I have ever seen, simultaneously. And I look in the mirror every morning.”
Luke hums, biting his lip to keep from splitting his cheeks, “That’s pretty hard to compete with.”
“Lunch then? On Saturday? I’ll pick you up?”
“You haven’t given me your number, told me where we’re going, given me a specific time, or told me your fucking name.”
“I’m sorry! You’re just- really distracting, you know that? I can’t get my mind off of you long enough to remember how to hold a conversation.”
Luke looks at his beat up Converse. “Thank you. You’re pretty cute yourself.”
“It’s Michael,” He can’t keep the grin off his face, “Before I forget. Michael Clifford.” Luke looks up, and his smile must be a thousand watts, in Michael’s estimation. Luke hands the busboy - Michael - his phone. “I’ll text you my address.”
“Yea. You do that, Luke. I’ll come pick you up. We’ll go on a date. I’ll go on a date with you. ‘Cos you said yes. Sounds like a plan.”
“Shh.” Luke puts his finger to Michael’s lips. “We can talk on Saturday. Now, get back to work.”
5. no one blushes this much??
6. i came up with the word sidedicks on the spot who’s proud of me
7. ‘disproportionately’ is a really long word
8. i use so many variations of the word smile js
9. the ending is kinda shoddy im sorry
10. should i have put a ‘read more’ in? probably. did i? nope.
