((I have a 2,000+ words of Ashton experimentally fucking himself that's never going to be posted lmaooo))

Michael kind of wants to know when he became the official band dad. Ashton must have been ousted at some point and he was substituted in, except they forgot to take him back out.

Calum groans miserably from the couch, which prompts Luke into pathetic whining, which makes Ashton mutter under his breath and chuck a pillow in their general direction, which, of fucking course, makes Calum groan again. It's an endless loop they're stuck in and Michael's three seconds away from lighting himself on fire.

He snatches the box of tissues off the counter and marches into the living area of their temporary hotel suite, pushing up the sleeves of his flannel as he goes.

Luke's all sprawled out on the couch under three duvets and as many stuffed animals as Calum could round up. He's got his head hanging over the side, looking paler than usual and glimmering with sweat. Michael barely gets two steps into the room before Luke starts gagging. He leans over event more, shifting with the blankets, and hurls into the bucket on the ground next to him.

Calum scrunches up her nose and scrunches up, trying to squeeze between the wall and the chair Ashton's slumped in. She squishes and huffs until she's completely hidden, except for underneath, then sighs in content.

Ashton seems very upset by Calum hiding behind his chair and immediately jerks forward and squirms until he can reach Calum. He swats at her and hisses, "Out!"

Calum huffs, which makes Luke whine, which makes Ashton grit his teeth and pinch Calum's back.

"Death is upon me," Michael mumbles dramatically. He hands the box of tissues to Luke so he can wipe his nose and face and whatever else he's having problems with, before turning to the other two.

Luke's got the flu, which wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't the biggest baby in the world. He doesn't get sick often, but when he does, it hits him hard and leaves him struggling to even stand for days. He doesn't know how to take care of himself either, never really had to. Michael wouldn't mind taking care of Luke, if Calum hadn't gotten the sniffles and severe dysphoria, and Ashton hadn't been agitated all day.

Calum's easy to deal with, she just needs tissues, a garbage, and some attention every so often. Except, Luke needed the blanket off her bed, which rousted her from her room in search of body heat. Ashton had hissed at her, which just made everything ten times worse.

Ashton's easy to deal with, too. He just needs cuddles and reassuring. But he doesn't want to touch anyone except Michael, and Michael's been too busy to sit with him.

All in all, it's rough. They're all struggling, and dependent on Michael, and Michael can barely pay attention to one of them at a time.

Luke makes a gasping sort of groaning noise to capture Michael's attention again, and holds up his soggy tissue expectantly.

"Luke, I love you, but no," Michael makes a disgusted face. He snatches the garbage from what had previously been Calum's chair and holds it out for Luke to drop the tissue into. After setting it back down, he peers into Luke's bucket and frowns. "Christ, aren't you thirsty?"

"Yeah," Luke whines pathetically, dropping his bottom lip in a pout and whimpering.

Michael almost feels sympathetic, but Ashton's still smacking Calum and he knows he has to deal with that eventually. "Do you want me to get you some water?"

Luke goes to nod, but then he leans over and throws up again, instead.

"Maybe not," Michael frowns. Luke hallows out his cheeks and spits a few times before nudging the bucket forward with a blanket covered elbow. After sighing and making a big show of holding the bucket an arms length away, Michael carries it to the bathroom. He dumps the contents into the toilet and washes it out in the tub, before returning it to a dozing Luke and turning to face the other two.

Luke coughs miserably and Ashton makes a gagging noise. "Luke's gross when he's sick."

"You're gross all the time," Luke mumbles, before coughing again and whining.

"So are you," Ashton shoots back. "I just didn't know it could get worse when you- hey!" Ashton cuts off when Calum pushes against his chair and makes it move half an inch forward.

"That's it!" Michael announces. They all get quiet and look up at him expectantly. Michael suddenly realizes they all know he's the band dad, too. "If you insist on being in the same room together, I'm splitting you up!"

They're all silent, while Michael grabs the phone from the side table, near Luke's feet under the lumps of blankets. He orders a few things from downstairs, while Luke starts to doze off and Calum and Ashton start bickering quietly again. When room service brings up Michael's stuff, he tips them generously and tries not to ask if they'll take him with when they go back downstairs.

He lays duct tape along the white carpet, boxing Luke's couch and bucket against the wall before splitting the remaining part of the room in half. Next, he rolls the small, fold out cot over to Calum's half and dumps a pile of blankets and junk food onto the middle. Calum peaks out from behind Ashton's chair curiously, eyes widening and eyebrows raising.

"Come on, Clam," Michael says, pointing to the cot expectantly.

Calum hesitates at the nickname. "I told you not to call me that when we were twelve."

"Yeah," Michael agrees. He doesn't have an excuse for himself, other than the dumb nickname always made him think of curling up in Calum's bed when they were younger, and that feels a lot like home and comfort. Calum must get it, because she crawls out from behind the chair and pads over to the bed curiously. While she picks though the candy and yogurt Michael had ordered, Michael drags Ashton out of his chair, then plops down in it himself. He pulls Ashton into his lap immediately after and cuddles him close, waiting until he situates himself to hook his chin over Ashton's shoulder.

Calum submerges herself completely in the pile of blankets, tearing open a package of shark shaped fruit snacks. Luke glances up at the crinkling sound of the packet and promptly retched into the bucket, again. Michael sighs in exasperation.

"I'm waiting until next time to wash the stupid bucket out," Michael explains when Ashton nudges him. Luke spits again and looks up at them with a terrible pout a big, puffy, red rimmed eyes. Calum sniffles from the other side of the room and hunkers down further into the blankets.

Michael's grateful for the quiet, then. Luke's fallen asleep, apparently, because he starts snoring quietly with his cheek all pressed against the side of the couch and drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth. Michael's too endeared to be disgusted.

Calum's got one blanket wrapped around her shoulders and another in her lap, surrounded by junk food and chewing quietly. She sniffles every so often and wipes her nose with a tissue, then tosses it in the general direction of the garbage can next to Luke. She hasn't made it once, but Michael's not about to go pick up her snot rags.

Ashton wiggles and shifts until he finds a comfortable position, tucked under Michael's chin, straddling Michael's waist with his head pressed to his chest and his hands brushing gently at the skin under Michael's shirt. He's completely silent, save for a few grumbles and flinches when Michael moves under him.

Michael starts to doze off, under Ashton's fingers, but he's jolted awake again by a sudden noise. His eyes fling open to find Luke hurling again, whining and whimpering pathetically between retches. Calum groans in disgust at the sight of Luke hyperventilating and coughing up his internal organs, which makes Ashton huff in annoyance and sit forward suddenly.

"Stop complaining!" Ashton demands, shooting Calum a glare.

"Easy for you to say, you're downwind," Calum mutters. Michael doesn't even think that makes sense, considering there is no wind and they can all smell the ripe smell of Luke. "Besides," Calum continues, scowling at Ashton. "You've got Mikey. S'not fair."

"You've got a cot!" Ashton pouts out. "And candy, and blankets!"

"I've got death," Luke mutters. Michael rolls his eyes at the melodramatics.

Ashton and Calum continue bickering while Michael removes himself from the chair to go empty Luke's bucket again. He cleans it out and returns it, then stands where the three edges of tape meet and glances around.

"Ew," Luke wipes his nose on the back of his hand and promptly starts crying. He's not even holding back, he's full on sobbing with his face all scrunched up and his cheeks painted a bright pink. Ashton groans and starts telling Luke to shut the fuck up, which prompts Calum into ordering Ashton to stop being rude to Luke.

It's just, it's too much. Michael backs out of the room again and tiptoes down to his room. He locks the door into place before glancing at his bare bed, with only pillows thrown carelessly on top of it. Luke had the rest of the bedding. He decides he doesn't give a shit and locks the door in place behind him, then flops down on the bed limply.

The hotel walls block out the sound of the other three and Michael sighs in content.

****

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Michael frowns gloved hands on his hips and pierced eyebrow raised skeptically. Calum stares at his reflection in the mirror before nodding firmly. Michael shrugs and grabs the bowl of hair dye. "Whatever, it's not my hair to ruin."

"No, you've done that already," Calum snaps back instantly, never one to miss a beat, while Michael mixes the colors in the bowl. Calum flicks his eyes up to Michael's blue hair in the mirror and mutters, "clearly."

"Watch it," Michael grabs the dye brush and holds it up menacingly, but Calum doesn't seem intimidated. Calum's quiet after that, seemingly run out of things to say, while Michael starts painting his hair with the bright dye. It doesn't take too long, so Michael sets the alarm on his phone for half an hour before glancing in the mirror.

"You should do pink," Calum says softly.

Michael shakes his head. "Nah, I did that already."

"So?" Calum shrugs and peers forward when his phone lights up with a new message. It's a picture of a dog from Luke, Michael notices, as Calum doesn't take his phone off the counter. He locks it again and glances up, eyeing Michael's hair curiously. "Yeah, do pink."

Michael's always been a sap for Calum and could never really resist him. He pours more hair bleach into the bowl and starts on his own head. Calum watches thoughtfully, giggling when Michael stabs himself in the eye with the brush and starts cursing and fumbling for a wet washcloth. He finishes quick enough and spends the next half an hour making out with Calum and telling him stupid jokes that Luke had enlightened him with ("Hey, Cal, what's a cheese that's not yours?" "Please don't,"). Michael finds them amusing, not that's he'd ever tell Luke as much, and Calum just groans and rolls his eyes.

When it comes time, Michael washes out Calum's hair in the bathroom sink, massaging his head and pretending to be a hair stylist until Calum kicks him. He hands Calum the blow dryer as he washes his own hair out and quietly hums Judge by Twenty One Pilots.

Calum's hair ends up a bright, bleached yellowish orange. His whole head is one color again, even though it really kind of clashes with his eyebrows.

"You should pluck your eyebrows," Michael suggests.

"You should hop off my dick," Calum replied instantly, without really thinking. He's looking in the mirror, messing with his bleached hair and tugging at the loose curls that have fallen through it. Michael smiles fondly at him and ducks down so he's a centimeter away from Calum's mouth. Calum indulges him and presses a chaste kiss to his lips, before going back to his fluffy hair in the mirror.

"It looks good," Michael smiles. "Not to, you know, sound conceded. But I did I great job, wow."

Calum rolls his eyes and elbows him in the ribs, but hums right after. "You did. I like it. Thank you, Mikey."

"My pleasure," Michael responds, with a grand, sweeping arm gesture that has Calum giggling. He turns and kisses him lightly again, grinning stupidly and gripping his hair tightly.

((Cute boyfriends being cute

Question: If you could do your hair any color in the world, which would it be??

Answer: I'm not really sure, to be honest. It's magenta/pink/blonde right now, but I have to dye it again soon. Any suggestions??

-Mel))