141 | | ash

➳ four

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a/n: this chapter is dedicated to beastieboys- bc her stories are amazing and i cannot believe she's reading this one like dlkfjsdlkfj

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"Want something to eat?" Luke asks me as I walk into the house. His back is turned to me, and I just now realize how hungry I am. The only thing I had to eat today was a bagel for breakfast before we got on the plane to L.A. Maybe a few airplane peanuts I stole from Morgan to piss him off.

I shrug. "If it's not a bother."

Luke turns to me and laughs. "Not, it's not. Is it okay if we order something, or is that against regulation?"

I bite my lip and shake my head. "I'd rather not. There's heavy police presence, and the unsub might be angered by this. I don't want to risk anything."

Luke just sighs and nods turning back to the fridge. "Well, we're screwed. There's nothing here."

Ashton walks up behind me smirking at his friend. "I bought some chicken nuggets last night. I honestly wanted to eat them in peace, but it seems like it's our best bet."

"You bought ... chicken nuggets? Are you five?" The red-haired boy whose name I've yet to discover says.

Ashton laughs and shrugs. "Do you want to starve?"

The boy sighs and pulls the box of chicken nuggets from the freezer. "No. I guess this will do." He sprawls them randomly onto a tray and throws them into the oven. It takes everything in my power not to fix it. I'm not OCD, but I know how to properly make chicken nuggets, and I am not in the mood to contract salmonella.

Ashton smirks again and walks over to me. "You comfortable?" He asks. For once, he seems genuine, and I don't know how to take it.

"I'm fine, thanks," I say taking off my blazer. The room suddenly got immensely hot, and I wasn't sure if it was me or Ashton who was making me sweat.

"You seem anxious."

I stare at him and sigh. "Your friend didn't pre-heat the oven, and that's not how you make chicken nuggets." Ashton stares at me for a moment before breaking out into a fit of laughter. His giggles fill the entire room, and the rest of the boys turn to look at us. Ashton can't calm down. Nothing I said was supposed to be funny.

"Michael!" He calls. The red-haired boy looks up from whatever he's doing, and I'm glad I know now his name. Three out of four. "Agent Hart over here doesn't like the way you put the nuggets into the oven. You didn't pre-heat."

My face turns red as a tomato, or as red as the boy's hair, and he just shrugs. "Eh," Michael calls out looking back down at the table. "I'll just leave it in for extra baking time."

Ashton turns to me and smirks. "See? He's got it under control."

I bite my lip and make my way back to the couch. I hang my blazer over the arm, and lo and behold, Ashton follows me. He takes a seat next to me on the couch and folds his right leg over his left knee holding his ankle with his hand. "So, tell me about yourself."

I nearly choke on my spit at how forward this comment is. "Excuse me?" I say turning to him. The expression on my face says it. However, when I expect him to laugh, he doesn't.

"I'm serious," Ashton says leaning forward again. "I don't want some stranger living in our house. I'm the oldest of the lads, and they seem to see the good in everything. I don't think they fully understand how much danger we're in, but I do." He seems proud that he understands, but something tells me he's just saying this to get on my good side. Too bad he's never going to get there.