((Smut warnings bye

-Mel))

Now it's the middle of the night on the open road

And the heater don't work and it's oh so cold

You're looking tired, you're looking kind of beat

The rhythm of the street sure knocks you off your feet

You didn't know how rock and roll looked

Until you caught your sister with the guys from the group

Half way home in the parking lot

By the look in her eye she was giving what she got

Ashton slams the door shut. The bang! bounces through the empty hall and soaks into the peeling walls and wooden doors. He doesn't care that everyone in the entire motel has probably heard his mistake.

"Fuck!" He yells, then flicks his eyes around the small room. Lilly's perched on the edge of the bed in a tank top and a pair of his old jogging bottoms. Her blue hair is tied up in a bun on the top of her head, exposing the soft curls of bird wings inked behind her ear. She looks at him, hazel eyes wide and startled.

"Sorry, sorry," he mutters quickly. "I just- We can't afford phones anymore."

"I thought mom was sending money for them?" Lilly asks softly. Ashton always thought her voice didn't match her appearance at all. The tattoos all the way down both of her arms are on full display, and her black nails are tapping against the remote control in her hands. The small television is playing a rerun of the Jerry Springer Show, which Ashton gets distracted by for a few seconds, until he realizes it's a boring straight episode. Not even any strippers or lesbians.

"She was," Ashton nods when he remembers Lilly had asked him a question. "Mom was sending us both money, but I- I'm 18, Lil."

Realization dawns on his little sister's face. He's legally an adult. There's no reason for their mother to be paying him the court appointed money anymore. The money Ashton was getting had been going towards their phones, while the money she was sending Lilly was being used to pay for their small motel room. Lilly sends a forlorn look at the small phone next to her on the bed.

"That's alright, Ash," she replies, smiling sadly at him. "We don't need them anyway. We can use, like, payphones. And stuff. We don't need cell phones."

Ashton loves her. He doesn't mention that there are barely any payphones left on this side of Australia. There's one outside of the room, shared by the entire motel, even though there's always an elderly Asian woman sobbing into it. She's afraid of Lilly, so they'll be able to use the phone to dial their dad's hospital room.

Lilly's trying, is the point. She's trying to make Ashton feel better, and she's trying to assure him that it's alright. Ashton loves her more than anything in the world.

°°°°

"Got any sevens?"

"Nope,"

Calum shrugs, looking completely impartial about the lack of sevens, and reaches forward to grab the bottle of vodka in the middle of the table. He tilts his head back, pressing his lips to the edge, and takes a drink before setting it back down and drawing a card from the pile.

"Why do we play this dumb game?" Luke asks, glancing down at the cards in his hands with a scowl.

"To get alcohol poisoning and die," Calum says. He has the same impartial look on his face as he says it. Its his default look.

"Come on, maybe you guys just suck at hardcore goldfish," Michael's the only one that's actually doing well at the game. Probably because Luke just grumbles the entire time and Calum keeps purposely saying numbers that have already been matched up so he can drink. If he's already drunk, he's not showing it. "Got any threes?"

"You suck," Luke hands over his number three card angrily, thrusting it forward and letting it drop onto Michael's lap. Michael grabs it eagerly and slaps the pair down next the the others.

"Where did you guys even get this?" Calum asks. He's got his fingers pressed against the side of the clear bottle in extreme concentration.

"What?" Michael glances down at his cards again. All two of them. "The cards, the game, or the vodka?"

"Both,"

Michael glances up to watch Calum peel his fingers off the glass and stare at the prints that are left over. Luke shrugs his shoulders at Calum's response, so Michael explains. "The cards were from the venue we were just at, the game is from my head- fuck you, by the way- and the vodka is from some whore named Jennifer that Luke found sniffing your clothes backstage.

"My clothes?" Calum asks. Michael nods and he scrunches up his nose. "Success is measured by the number of people you have to smell your clothes, I suppose."

"I- I'm not- I don't think that's how it works?" Luke frowns at Calum's unimpressed expression. "I don't have anyone smelling my clothes? And I have the biggest following and a solo album?"

"Yeah, but your solo album sucks," Michael points out.

"True, but 3 million copies sold,"

"3 million copies sold," Calum mimics in a high pitched voice, scrunching up his nose and squinting his eyes. "I'm Luke Hemmings, I have a pop album, kiss my ass."

"Take your own advice," Luke responds dryly. He reaches forward and grabs the bottle of vodka around the neck, holding it out of Calum's reach. "You're such a sassy drunk, fuck you."

"I can't help it, I'm drunk," Calum says, like that's supposed to help. He reaches across the small bus table to grab for the bottle wildly, arms flailing and fingers stretched way out. As a result, he smacks Michael in the face three times and pinches Luke in the ribs twice before the bottle falls and shatters across the floor.

"No nose goes!" Luke yells maturely, nearly stabbing himself in the nose with his pointer finger.

Calum slaps his entire hand over his nose, instantly muttering, "ah, fuck." and actually grabbing his nose for medical purposes.

Michael groans. "Fuck you guys." He sees blood staining Calum's lips and suddenly doesn't mind sweeping up glass chunks. "Luke, get Calum less bloody and put him to bed. I'll clean your fucking mess."

"God damn it, Calum," Luke reaches across the table and pulls Calum's hand away to look at the blood dripping from his nose, staining his cheek and upper lip dark red. Calum goes cross eyed trying to look at it.

Once their both gone, Michael grabs the broom from it's convenient storage space (this happens a lot) right next to the table, and sets about sweeping up the glass shards. It only takes him a few minutes, and by the time he's finished sweeping and drying up the remaining alcohol with a towel, the bus driver pulls into a gas station.

"Last stop of the night," the driver says, pulling the curtain aside to glance around the small sitting area. "Tell the other two chickens to grab something to eat because we're not stopping for another seven hours."

"Thanks, Ross," Michael frowns at the stain left in the hardwood flooring. He decides its not his problem and yells back to Calum and Luke that they're stopped at a gas station. Ross snorts and mutters something before hopping off the bus. Michael follows after him, slipping sunglasses on even though it's passed midnight.

His eyes are bloodshot and there's heavy bags under them from lack of sleep. He averages about four hours of rest a night, two joints a day, and seven cups of coffee a morning. There's a balance there somehow that leaves him happy without feeling tired.

Calum and Luke come stumbling into the gas station a few minutes later, while Michael's trying to decide between flaming hot cheetos and a box of fruit loops. They both look half as drunk as they are and keep giggling. Calum's face is still bloody and Luke looks like he made no move to clean it up.

Michael grits his jaw when he sees a flash of a phone from behind the check out counter. That'll make a great headline in the morning tabloids.

"Damn it, Luke," he grabs the fruit loops and marches over to the two, shoving them both harshly with the heel of his palms. "I thought I told you to clean him up and put him to bed."

"I did," Luke says dumbly. Michael opens his mouth, but he's not really sure how to respond to that, because clearly Luke did not.

"Just grab something and let's go," he mumbles after a second of silence. There's a loud clatter as Calum knocks over a display case of sunglasses. Michael glances over to see Calum on the ground, amidst all.the sunglasses, with his eyes closed and happy giggles escaping his lips. Calum looks up and grins at Luke, who grins right back, despite Michael's exasperated sigh.

"Uh," the kid at the counter says softly. Luke and Calum keep laughing, Calum's edging hysterics and he still hasn't gotten off the ground. His phone is still in his hand, angled towards the three.

"Hey, let's not," Michael says shortly. The kid drops his phone the second they make eye contact, mouth dropping open and eyes widening. "Listen, delete that video or picture or whatever you just took, and I'll give you whatever's in my wallet. All the money in it right now."

"Will it cover the sunglasses?" The kid asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Probably," Michael says. The kid doesn't move, so he reaches backwards and hooks two of his fingers around Luke's belt loop. Luke's still giggling as he allows himself to be tugged over. Michael digs into his front pocket without asking and pulls out his wallet, too. "Whatever's in my wallet goes to you for deleting the pictures. Whatever's in Luke's goes towards the display. Good?"

The kid mulls it over, furrowing his eyebrows as Luke practically drapes himself over Michael's shoulder. He's got his jaw resting against Michael's temple, snuggling closer and closer the more Michael shoves him away. The kid finally nods his head quickly and grabs his phone to delete the pictures. Michael hands over the money and gathers up his fruit loops and band mates to leave.

Luke's easy. He's happy and dopey and follows Michael outside at the first mention of fruit loops. Calum takes a bit of convincing and dragging, but he eventually makes it outside too. He gets three steps to the bus before deciding his legs are stuck to the ground. Michael grabs him around the waist and thighs and swings him over his shoulder easily. And, of course, that's when he's spotted.

"Michael?"

Michael stops and grabs Calum's legs tighter, turning around to see who recognized him. He spots a flash of bright shoes and a crown of daisies before he realizes who he's looking at.

"Uh, hey Ashton," he says carefully, glancing at Calum's ass next to his face. Calum's gripping the back of his shirt tightly and muttering angrily.

Ashton squints at him, leaning to the side to peer around him at Calum. "Hey, Calum."

"Hello, human," Calum replies. Ashton makes a terribly confused face.

"What are you guys doing?" Ashton asks. There's no cars anywhere near the gas station, and Ashton looks exhausted. Naturally exhausted though, like hes been awake for the last ten years of his life. The gas station is on a deserted road, right in the middle of nowhere with no proof of a town anywhere nearby. Like it had dropped out of the sky one day and the area's so deserted, no one's even noticed yet.

"Calum's drunk and smashed half the gas station," Michael says simply. He glances over to catch sight of Luke staring at the doors of the bus blankly. Like he's waiting for them to open. Ross is on the side of the bus with his hands on his hips, watching Luke closely. At least someone is. There's a pretty girl with blue hair and a black jacket rounding the front of the bus and drawing Luke's attention away from the doors.

"Oh, that's- oh," Ashton frowns.

Michael shrugs. It happens a lot, if he's honest. "Why, what are you doing here?"

Ashton looks down and fidgets nervously with his fingertips. "You know. Gas. On our way to Adelaide."

"Really? Where about?" Michael asks. Calum's staring to slip off his back, but he's a little too focused on the way Ashton sucks his bottom lip into his mouth at the question to care. The blue haired girl is walking over to them with her hands shoved into her jacket pockets and her eyes bright. Luke's following her obediently, even though she hadn't even made eye contact with him.

"Just, you know," Ashton makes a vague hand gesture and nods a little, swallowing thickly and glancing over at the girl nervously. "Just the city in general."

"The jail and the hospital," the blue haired girl says, stopping next to Ashton. She runs a hand throigh her hair slowly and glances at Calum with a raised eyebrow, while Ashton hisses at her.

"Lilly," he says sharply.

"Shut up, they're my favorite band, I can't help it," Lilly mutters back. "My mouth just doesn't stop, I'm sorry."

"I think my legs are numb," Calum announces.

Luke follows that up by making a dying cat noise in the back of his throat and hacking loudly. "I'm going to throw up."

"Luke, get in the bus," Michael demands. Luke doesn't move, so he reaches over to smack the back of Luke's head. His hair ruffles a bit and catches the light from the gas station window so it looks more purple than black or brown. "Bus, Luke."

"I don't know how to open the doors," Luke admits.

"Oh my god, are my legs even there?" Calum asks. "Am I going to be paranoid, now?"

"Paralyzed," Michael corrects without really thinking. He pinches Calum's thighs and says, "They're still there."

"Promise?" Calum asks softly. Michael's considering just setting him down and making a run for the bus. He would beat Calum and Luke and Ross would leave if he asked. He could play the Adelaide show by himself and wait until the rest of his stupid band catches up. He could do it.

"Yes, Calum, your legs are here," Michael sighs instead. He glances back up to find Ashton looking at him in concern and Lilly grinning in amusement. "How are you guys getting to Adelaide?"

"Car," Ashton says firmly.

Lilly scoffs. "We were before our car broke down! Now foot, I guess."

"You've only got one foot?" Luke asks.

"You guys were not this drunk when you shattered the vodka," Michael scowls. He's slightly offended they decided to drink without him. "Calum, are you bleeding on my shirt?"

"Yes," Calum admits.

Michael sighs and turns back to Ashton and Lilly. "Do you guys want a ride? We've got an extra bunk, the bus came with four, and we could flatten the table out if you want."

"No, no we're fine-" Ashton says immediately.

Lilly ignores him. "Please. Its my dream." Michael's not sure if she's being sarcastic or not, but either way he likes her already. He smiles widely at her and watches her eyes widen.

"We're fine," Ashton repeats.

"It's no problem," Michael shrugs. He readjusts Calum's semi limp body on his shoulder and flashes Ashton a smile, too. "We're going that way anyway. We'll just drop you off at- at the hospital or jail, whatever you want."

"Yeah, Ash, it's not a problem," Lilly repeats, clenching her teeth in a biting, threatening smile directed towards her brother directly after. Ashton glances at her. They're almost the same exact height, but Lilly's a half a centimeter taller, and uses the tiny height advantage to step closer and glare at Ashton menacingly.

"Fine," Ashton mutters after a second of shifting nervously. "Fine we'll ride along with you-"

Before he can finish, Luke makes a startling dying animal noise, leaning forward to press his palms to his knees, and throws up all over the concrete.

°°°°

"This is my bunk, I dibsed the top already," Michael announces. Ashton raises his eyebrows for a second before frowning again, while his little sister giggles behind him. Michael points to the bed directly below his and says, "You can stay in this one, Ashton. We'll give Lilly the front room, because Calum snores when he's drunk and Luke talks in his sleep a lot."

"When he's drunk?" Lilly asks.

"No, just in general," Michael clarifies. He pauses for a second and frowns at Lilly. "Don't tweet about Calum being drunk and Luke throwing up."

"Can I blog about it?" She asks hopefully.

"No,"

She pouts and ignores Ashton's glare and mutter of, "Not like you have anything to go on your blog with anyway."

"Anyway, I'm probably going to be going to sleep soon," Michael clears his throat awkwardly, because he feels weird standing in front of thr siblings. He feels like he's intruding on something. "We have to be up early for a radio interview, feel free to borrow the bus while we're gone."

"Nice!" Lilly says excitedly. She grins at Ashton and bolts off before he can scold her.

°°°°

"Ash?"

Ashton makes a quiet humming noise in the otherwise silent bunk to show he's awake.

"You didn't call," Michael accuses. He doesn't really do randoms but when he does, he doesn't get attached. But for some reason, his throat constricted when two weeks went past and Ashton hadn't called. Luke had patted his shoulder and said "What a cunt."

"I- yeah," Ashton agrees. "Yeah, no. I didn't. I don't have a phone and I've been working a lot. Plus, I figured you'd already left town. You didn't need some little gay kid bothering you during a concert."

"I would have answered your call on stage," Michael admits. He would answer Ashton's calls during a funeral.

"I'm sorry," Ashton whispers. He's barely heard over the motor of the bus, but Michael's breath still hitches in his throat.

"Do- do you not want me anymore, or...?" He trails off and squeezes his eyes shut tightly, bracing himself for the response. He swears the motor even cuts off for half a second.

"No!" Ashton says frantically. "No, I- fuck. Yeah, I still want you. It's just a really bad time. I'm- Lilly and I, we're in a bad place right now. I swear to you, I still want you."

"Right now?"

As if on cue, Calum makes a loud snuffling noise from across the hallway, followed by Luke muttering angrily about his shoes. Michael's used to it, they've always fed off each other. They have the same attitudes and expressions and constantly attempt to one-up each other. If Luke's loud, Calum's louder. If Luke gets a tattoo, Calum gets two. If Luke wants to pierce his nipples, Calum would pierce his dick. Luckily, it hasn't come to that yet, but Michael's waiting.

The sudden noises from the two make Michael's heart stop for half a second. He can hear the way Ashton's breath catches from below him. Once Calum and Luke quiet down, Ashton shifts around in the bunk below for a second, then stumbles into the hallway that seperates the two sets of bunks.

Suddenly, the curtains ripped back and Michael can see the rough outline of Ashton's wild hair, stark black against the soft light filtering under the door that separates them from the back room. "Shove over," Ashton hisses. Michael jerks backwards and wiggles around until he had his back pressed against the wall. Ashton crawls into the empty space, after much effort, and huffs a little.

"Hi," Michael whispers when Ashton has the curtain closed again. Their noses are almost touching and Michael can feel bare skin touching his shin.

"Hi," Ashton replies. "Lovely weather we're having."

Michael hums. "Isn't it?" Ashton giggles and does that cute nose scrunching thing. He can feel the heat radiating off Ashton's flushed cheeks.

Without any warning or preface, Ashton ducks forward and presses their lips together gently. Michael kisses him back softly, pulling a hand up to rest against the side o Ashton's face. It's a slow kiss, languid and lazy, and really just two sets of lips moving together.

Ashton pulls back first, enough to whisper, "Yeah. Right now."

"We can't-"

"If you're quiet," Ashton interrupts. Michael sucks his own bottom lip into his mouth in thought, watching the way Ashton's eyelashes flutter.

"Deal," Michael nods.

The bunk is small, its probably no more than a meter high and two and a half long. Luke compares it to a coffin. Its small and its dark and they have a rule set in place about sex. Not only is it a bad rule, but the packet they'd received from the company the bus was rented from, clearly stated that the bunks were not made for any sort of sexual activities.

But, if no one found out, they weren't really breaking a rule. Michael's motto was "If you can't beat them, hit them in the dick with technicalities." Well, it was now. And god forbid his drunken band mates and a fucking packet keep him from having sex.

He shifts around until he's crouching between Ashton's knees, leaning forward in the confined space with his hands planted on either side of Ashton's waist. He hikes up Ashton's short and presses a soft kiss to the bottom of his ribcage, splaying his fingers across Ashton's skin.

"What do you want, baby?" He whispers.

Ashton practically whimpers at the words and it takes him a few seconds to remember that Ashton's a virgin. Ashton's first time is going to be in a tiny bink on some rock star's tour bus. Michael doesn't know if that's the bet thing ever or the worst.

Ashton's fingers curls around Michael's left wrist tightly, probably hard enough to bruise.  "You, just want you. Anything." He pauses and crosses himself by whispering out a quiet, "Fuck me."

"I don't have any condoms or anything," Michael frowns. He doesn't fuck enough people to carry the shit around in his back pocket like he knows the rest of his band does.

"Don't care," Ashton replies. He's practically shaking but Michael can't tell whether it's from nerves or wanting to be touched. He's already hard, straining against his pink boxers in a way that looks like it must be painful.

Michael crawls forward though, gently lowering himself into his elbows next to Ashton's shoulders, and kisses the boy lightly. He straddles Ashton's hips, squeezing his thighs around him, and brushes his fingers across Ashton's cheek and chin. Taking control of this kiss, he turns it rougher and more urgent, licking his way into Ashton's mouth and scraping his teeth across Ashton's tongue. He swallows down all the little noises of appreciation Ashton makes like rewards, using them to gauge what Ashton likes.

He grinds their cócks together slowly, slow enough to force a whine from Ashton and make him arch off the bed. "Please," Ashton begs around the kiss.

Michael pulls back then to leave little biting kisses all the way down Ashton's neck. He sucks a bruise into the junction where his neck and shoulder meet, listening to the loud moan in elicits from Ashton's lips. He grinds their hips together and kisses Ashton's neck a few more times until he figures if he goes any further, Ashton will be reduced to a mess of stuttering and moaning.

"I need you to suck on my fingers, okay?" Michael whispers, holding his hand up to Ashton's mouth. Ashton doesn't even ask why; he just wraps his lips around Michael's fingers and swirls his tongue around them expertly. With his free hand and his opposite elbow as a brace, he lifts himself up and pulls Ashton's pretty pink boxers down to his knees, freeing his díck. He pulls his own completely off after quite a struggle, ignoring Ashton's quiet giggles from around his fingers.

"Want me to go down on you first?" Michael asks hopefully. Not that he loves sucking díck, he just loves Ashton's.

Ashton drops his fingers from his lips and shakes his head almost frantically. "Not gonna last that long."

Michael nods and pecks Ashton's lips twice before sliding back down between his knees. "'S gonna hurt a bit, okay? Tell me if you want me to stop."

Ashton nods again and throws his head back against the pillow with his bottom lip in his mouth, clearly expecting the worst. Michael swallows thickly and glances down, through the dark, trying to calm the frantic beating of his heart to do this quickly. He gets one finger inside Ashton, glancing up to gauge the boy's reaction. It's a startled whimper, followed by his entire body tensing up. Ashton throws his arm over his eyes, panting heavily in the otherwise silent bunks.

"Alright?" Michael asks softly. Ashton nods jerkily from under his elbow and hums. Michael adds another finger slowly, breath hitching at the way Ashton tenses up again. He pauses for a few seconds until Ashton signals for him to continue, then scissors his fingers open and closed. The movement startles moan from Ashton's lips.

He does it again, scissoring and crooking his fingers, until Ashton starts meeting his thrusts by grinding down against his knuckles. Michael adds a third and forth finger, only stopping when he figures Ashton's ready. He could probably watch Ashton ride his fingers all day, but Ashton starts begging in soft, whispered tones as soon as Michael removes his fingers.

"Please, fuck," Ashton breathes out. "Please, please, fuck me, please. Need you, need your cóck."

Michael slaps his clean hand over Ashton's mouth to muffle his pleas. The curtains and walls of the bus are incredibly thin and the last thing they need is Luke yelling at them or Lilly stumbling in.

Michael shifts a bit, knuckles still white over Ashton's lips, and tugs Ashton's boxers the rest of the day off. He spits into his free hand before rubbing it on his díck quickly, then gently lowers himself back down over Ashton. They're face to face now, Ashton's still whimpering against his palm, while Michael lines himself up.

"I need you to tell me when to stop, baby," Michael whispers, ducking down to rub his lips against Ashton's jaw.

He removes his hand to find his own name dropping from Ashton's lips like a whispered prayer.

He shoves into Ashton slowly, tensing at the way Ashton cries out against his palm and whimpers in pain. After bottoming out, he replaces his hand with his own lips and runs his clean hand through Ashton's hair.

"Tell me when," Michael says breathlessly, practically twitching with the urge to thrust into the younger boy.

They kiss a while longer, sloppy and rushed, more tongue than anything useful, until Ashton nods against his lips and whispers a quiet "okay."

Michael pulls out before pushing back in again, slow and careful, keeping his open mouth ghosting just above Ashton's. It's quiet, save for the smooth, slick, shifting sound of their hips and the quiet pants coming from both of their mouths. Michael shifts his hips just right and gets a loud and sudden moan to spill from Ashton's lips.

He slaps his hand over Ashton's mouth again and listens for any sort of movement from the other bunks. Its silent for a minute flat before Michael moves again. He reaches down with his free hand and pulls Ashton's thighs up, listening to the almost silent crack of his knees as they bend and the slap of his feet against the top of his bunk.

"Alright?" Michael whispers. Ashton nods against his palm and pushes his lips out just enough to make Michael push forward again. They get into an easy rhythm of thrusts and quiet grunts and moans, Ashton's thighs tensing each time. It's only minutes before Michael comes, hot and tight, inside of Ashton. The feeling is enough to push Ashton over the edge, spilling onto his own chest and stomach.

Ashton goes limp immediately after, which Michael totally expected. But it leaves him with the clean up. He pulls off his shirt and uses it to wipe down Ashton's chest before throwing it to the bottom left corner of the dark bunk. He slides Ashton's pink boxers back up his legs, then shoves on his own and flops over onto his back next to Ashton.

"Fuck," he whispers, glancing over at Ashton. Ashton's lips are shining pink and his hair is even more wild than before. He's breathing heavily still and blinking himself out of his euphoric state.

"I lost my virginity to a hot rock star on his tour bus," Ashton says distantly. "While the rest of his band and my little sister slept. Holy crap."

"Turning out to be quite the little rebel," Michael grins and rolls over onto his side. He wraps one arm around Ashton's waist and the other around his neck, pulling the smaller boy against his chest tightly. "We're so doing that again."

Ashton giggles and shoves his face into Michael's neck to press a kiss against the skin there. "Agreed."

((A/N: IVE NEVER WRITTEN SMUT FOR THIS SHIP. ONLY MALUM AND CASHTON (I don't even have a malum fic, I'm just that high class).

Anywho! Any predictions? You'll be at an advantage if you know the song lol

Thoughts? About Ashton? About hardcore goldfish? About the smut (wait don't answer that i suck at smut)?

K bye

-Mel