CALUM
As soon as you had Iden down and sleeping in the bassinette that Michael and his wife dropped off along with their children, you moved out of the guest room and towards your master suite that you and Calum had been sharing for three of the five years you had been together. His voice was a whisper in the darkness, so you silently leaned against the door frame and hugged yourself, listening in as you could only make out so much of your long term boyfriend’s body in the unlit room. He had one leg off the bed and his back was against the headboard, that much was obvious.
Melodically, but in a hush, Calum was finishing his own rendition of ‘Pictures of You’ by The Cure to Emmeline, already fast asleep by the second verse, as his fingers soothingly mowed through her hair, her head taking up little room on his pillow. Any time they were together, he and Emmeline, he sang the song to her, even harmonizing under Michael’s leads at the first concert they performed as a band after Emmeline’s summer birthday. It was the lullaby he dedicated to her since he couldn’t quite find the right chords to write her one of his own. While he loved his other nieces and nephews unconditionally, Calum and Emmeline had a strange kinship from the first moment he held her, in her nursery a full week after she was born.
Smiling, you listened as his lips came down and smacked over her, right on her Ping-Pong ball cheek.
“Goodnight, Emmy.” He whispered against her before carefully maneuvering himself off of the bed, worried he might disturb her as she had fallen asleep with her fingers around one of his.
With the hallway light on, he could see you standing in the door and smiled softly as he snuck out. You backed away and walked out of the hallway to the kitchen where there were dishes waiting in the sink. Instead, you listened to Calum gently close the door, unlike all the other times he came and went out of the room.
“We did it.” He laughed, crashing against the cold fridge door behind you. “A full day of Clifford babies.” Closing his eyes, Calum swore he could have fallen asleep right then and there if he tried. He had babysat Michael’s daughter loads of time and his son, the two of them together, but never for much longer than a few hours. Usually, all the other parents and some crew members were around to help, a village raising the tiny 5 Seconds of Summer offspring, but today you and Calum had offered to give Michael and his beautiful wife a full day of themselves. They hadn’t really been child-free since Iden was born, two children bringing more of a change than they initially realized.
“So we shall be rewarded.” You took your attention away from the dishes, deciding they could be loaded into the washer some other time. Spinning around, you pointed to the door Calum was keeping shut, indicating your desire for a cold brew.
Calum didn’t need any other hint. He turned around with his hand around the black handle and whipped it open instantly, covering himself in light brighter than his yellow socks. He reached in with one hand and picked up the bottles by their brown necks, sliding them between his fingers. He let the door close on its own behind him, extending his arm for you to take a cold drink for yourself, stealing a kiss from your lips slathered in peppermint balm as you did.
“I love that you sing that song to her.” Sighing, you gushed and reached around his side to open up the drawer where you two kept cutlery in order to find a bottle opener. “I know it’s a private thing, but I had to listen. It’s just so sweet.”
“She seems to like it. Tiny Cure fan.” He chuckled, taking the opener from you once your cap was off, letting cool steam rise out of the beer bottle. “Did Iden go down easy?”
“Oh yeah. He was exhausted since we forgot about his nap.” Nodding, you clanked the neck of your bottle against his and reached up to kiss him again, letting his lips linger and giving him a chance to hold your hip with his empty hand this time. You two weren’t parents, just the fun Uncle and Aunt to the constantly growing brood of 5 Seconds of Summer children, so remembering the schedule that Michael’s wife had told you didn’t come second nature. Thankfully, it was nowhere near as detailed as the information Ashton and his wife left behind when they went anywhere without their two kids. It was practically a Bible.
“We’re not so bad at this babysitting thing. Think we should start a side business?” Calum pulled himself up on the counter, right by the stove, kicking his legs and asking before throwing back a cold sip of dark ale.
“No.” Shaking your head, you chuckled and leaned up against the sink across from him. “You’d be a great Dad though. I always think that when I see you with Emmy.” It had crossed your mind countless times. When he would pose for pictures with young fans, engaging them in conversation despite their underdeveloped verbal skills, you wondered why Calum wasn’t all over you to have kids. Now that all of his friends had kids, you were even more surprised that he wasn’t itching to be a father himself.
“Ah, I don’t know. I always think that you would be a good Mom and I just wouldn’t know what to do.” It wasn’t that Calum didn’t want children to call his own, he just wasn’t sure if he could make the grade. There was a large difference between his current role of ‘Fun Uncle Cal’ and then being an actual parent responsible for the life of a mini person. Calum was considered fearless by many, but the idea of being a father terrified him at a cellular level. “Do you want kids?” Sometimes he worried you would leave him due to the fact that he hadn’t made any offers of proposal or really talked about anything bigger than living together. He certainly didn’t like the idea of you with another man though starting your own family. He knew he would never forgive himself if that was the reason you decided to end things one day.
“I don’t know.” Pensively, you knocked your head to your shoulder and itched at your head with the top of the bottle’s neck. “I always thought kids would happen when they happen since I was more focused on a career, now I’m wondering if maybe they will happen…”
“They could.” He raised a single shoulder up to his ear, throwing back a sip with the other. He hadn’t thought about it too hard before. A part of Calum wondered if he could still be a cool Uncle while being a father. He really did love his relationship with all the kids in his life and he didn’t want any of them to sacrifice. What if he couldn’t sing The Cure to Emmeline anymore because he was too busy changing his own kid’s diapers?
“So, you want to have kids?” The question was a bullet fired out of a smoking gun from the empty hand you had resting on your thigh out of habit. Calum exhaled loudly, his chest pushing out for a moment as he leaned forward and checked out the window for the moon, watching it staring in through the window like a crazed fan or lurking paparazzi. He could feel his skin, slimy, over himself as he tried to come up with an answer that didn’t dig a grave for himself. If he said ‘no’, he worried that you would consider that a deal breaker and leave and he also didn’t actually not want kids. If he said ‘yes’, he worried that he would change his mind or that you would begin painting the guest room some Laura Ashley or another. Calum just wasn’t sure if he was ready for the big change that he had seen three of his friends, his older sister, and even your siblings go through. He liked that Michael was going be at his door around midnight, taking Emmeline and baby Iden away. He liked that when Molly began to sob in his arms, he could just pass her off to Ashton. Calum especially liked that when Penelope was near a bag of peanut M and Ms, it wasn’t technically his job to operate her epee pen. Children were walking hazards. Anything could happen to them that, if you were their guardian, could become your fault. When Luke sat him down and asked him if he would be Penelope’s godfather, he nearly said ‘no’ despite how honored he was because he didn’t want any opportunity for Family Services to roll up into his home and arrest him.
“Maybe one?” Wrinkling his forehead together, Calum turned away from the window and checked with you. “A boy. Yeah, I’d be cool with a boy.” It was his basic and somewhat ignorant understanding that they were less trouble to raise. If you raised a boy to be an asshole, he was still a man. If you raised a girl to be anything, but perfect, you failed.
“I don’t think you can really choose the gender. It’s just a fifty-fifty lottery.” Putting down your beer on the counter, you laughed as you explained to Calum what he already knew. Moving forward slowly, you made a place for yourself between Calum’s dangling legs, sliding your hands up to his thighs and lifting your chin for a beer flavored kiss. He put his own beer down in order to allow his hands to run down and find room in the back pocket of your jeans happily. He was just about to whisper that you two should practice making a son on the couch when you both realized that you weren’t alone.
“Uncle Cal…” Wiping her nose on the top of her hand, a very sleepy Emmeline stood in the entrance of the kitchen, yawning.
“What are you doing out of bed?” Your faces still together at the side, Calum turned to look at the little girl in her two piece sheep pajamas, the top rising and displaying her little belly.
“I didn’t hear all the song. I fell sleep.” Licking her dry lips, she explained as if she was desperate to hear the rest of the words to a song he had been singing to her since she was a wee bundle of tears. “I want to hear it all.” Her bare feet charged ahead quickly, most of her weight on her toes, as she knocked her head into the side of your leg and rubbed it there.
“Can I listen too, Emmy?” Reaching down, your hand off of Calum’s belt loop, you stroke your frizzy hair and smiled. Emmeline had Calum wrapped around her finger, you doubted he would give up foreplay and beer for anyone else.
“No. It’s ah my song, Auntie [Y/N].” She shook her head against your leg, voice clear and full of conviction though it should have been muffled by your denim. You backed up slowly, careful not to step on Emme’s toes as Calum helped himself off of the counter, grunting as he sucked in his gut to do so.
“Don’t lose whatever sexy thoughts are in your head right now.” He growled between grit teeth, quietly speaking before stealing one more kiss from you. As soon as you were against the sink again, he had Emmeline in front of him by the shoulders, guiding her back to the bedroom to where she would inevitably fall asleep before the last chorus.
( Pictures of You - The Cure, if you don’t know it. )
ASHTON
“Hey, how was your mum’s?” You called to Ashton as soon as he let himself into your home, his feet on the black rubber mat by the front door, your attempt to stop him and his brother from constantly tracking sand and mud in.
“Good. She says hi.” Sounding tired, he told you and walked around the couch to find you sitting teepee style on the floor, surrounded by small cardboard boxes, fabric bags, a few printed papers, and a steel bowl full of salty popcorn. Ashton threw himself down lazily on the couch and kissed the top of your head before shutting his eyes over the pillow, allowing you to continue making wedding favors for Luke’s upcoming nuptials. “She asked if you didn’t come over because she bugs you about having kids too much.” He put a hand over his head, rubbing at his temple with a thumb and finger as he spoke towards the ceiling.
“I hope you told her I wanted to come.” You dropped the papers from your hand, letting them drift to the floor between your legs before staring at your husband with astonished eyes. While you were well aware a lot of people didn’t get on well with their in-laws, you were very fond of Ashton’s mother and considered her your own. “Being the maid of honor to Calum’s best man is a lot of work.” Calum could plan any party and throw out a thousand ideas, but he wasn’t much for the frilly details. He drove over the supplies you needed and hung out for a couple minutes before excusing himself to go have a kick around with Luke, which was their idea of wedding prep. The ceremony was mere days away and nobody really knew if they had their tuxedos or not. Even Ashton, a groomsmen himself, was blurry what was prepared and what wasn’t.
“She understood. She just wants to be a grandma.” He turned his head on the arm of the couch first before the rest of his body followed, propped up on his side. He smiled at you and reached forward to play with your hair as you went back to working on the gifts.
“We’ve only been married a year and a half…” While being a mother was high on your to-do list, you were still sinking into life with Ashton and enjoying the adventures that you two seemed to find together. A child was a big decision, you two had decided to turn off the laptop and sleep on whether or not you wanted to purchase the couch that Ashton was currently lounging on. A child was a bigger deal than a couch.
“She’s excited.” Ashton laughed and swung his legs over, sitting up and leaning forward to try and see what it was you were actually doing. He squinted, but still couldn’t make out the tiny print on the papers in your hand. “She knows I want a little family with you…girl with your nose…”
“I think a girl would be cuter with your nose.” Concentrating on the notes Luke’s fiancé left you, you mumbled back, thinking that any child would be blessed to be fairer to Ashton. “Maybe, a boy with my nose.” You chuckled and prompted Ashton to reach around your face and honk your nose that you were a bit insecure over. He hadn’t any idea why since he thought it was as perfect as the rest of you.
“And we could take them to the beach…build sandcastles.”
“We already build sandcastles.” Pushing his hand off of your face, you reminded him. “Why does she want to be a grandma? She has you. You’re a giant kid.” Looking over your shoulder, you watched as Ashton lowered himself off the couch and scooted up right behind you, wrapping you with his legs and arms, forcing the paper out of your hand and back onto your lap.
“I really am ready, [Y/N].” In a low whisper, he promised and kissed the patch of skin of your shoulder revealed from your boat neck top. “I’ve been thinking about it more and more.” He hoped you knew it wasn’t just his mum in his head with her hopes and dreams. Ashton had longed to be a parent himself for a long time. He always felt naturally paternal and liked children, coaching little league when he was a teenager, and enjoying the imagination that came out of the wandering minds of little kids. He knew that other people grew nervous over becoming parents, but he was more excited than anything else. It was going to be an adventure and he imagined even the crummiest parts would be enjoyable.
“I know.” You nodded your head back, rubbing it against his side for a moment and breathing in his scent, the one you found when you nuzzled underneath his arm on stormy nights in the bedroom upstairs. “I saw your baby name list on your phone.” Biting on your bottom lip, you teased.
“It’s not a list. It’s, like, three names!” Defensively, Ashton shouted with his hair shaking behind him. They had come to him during a boring train ride from Wales to London a few months ago. He knew that if he didn’t write them down quickly, he would fall asleep in his chair and forget.
“Molly. Matilda….and Wylie, right?”
“I like Wylie for a boy. I might have been watching Road Runner…” Ashton laughed at himself, not quite sure what had been going on as he was tired when the names came to him. He was as surprised you were that Bruce, Wayne, and Robin weren’t also on the list.
“I’ll tell you what?” As much as you could with his limbs clutched to your body like a monkey around a tree trunk, you turned to face him with glowing eyes, an enthusiastic smile worn bright just like the one you always had on when one of his songs came on the radio. “If you help me with making these gift bags, I’ll seriously give going off birth control some thought, okay?”
Ashton looked over your head at the supplies around you, reaching into your lap and picking up the paper, reading over just the first two lines before wrinkling up his nose. His gaze shifted back to you, taking in the smile that he had fallen for the moment you two met on his day off, wandering through the Natural History Museum with friends and winding up getting lost in the Victorian exhibit with you.
“Alright. Hand me the scissors.” He reached out an empty hand and listened to you cheer. Ashton was a little bit bitter about not being made best man, but he would still do one of Calum’s tasks for him with a smile…especially if it brought him a step closer to becoming the father he always wanted to be.
MICHAEL
Awake in bed next to Michael, you were scrolling through your cell phone aimlessly as he continued his nap. He wasn’t actually asleep and you could tell as he wasn’t snoring, not even slightly. Plus, his hand kept running up and down your bare leg, kneading his palm into your upper thigh and then slowly running back down to your knee.
“Look,” Once you patted his shoulder, he raised his face out of his pillow marginally, his bed head shifted over one eye and tried to focus on your cell phone screen. “Another picture of Molly. God, she’s cute.” Chuckling, you mentioned. While some people might have been annoyed by the influx of photos the Irwin’s sent of their newborn, just freshly two months, but you were always happy to have fun fill up your incoming texts page. She was your first niece after all and it was fun to see your close friends becoming parents. You couldn’t believe that the couple you had seen drunkenly throw up off the side of a boat during a vacation in Mexico you went on with them were now parents; obsessive, self-deprived, but deeply invested parents.
“Yep. Still cute.” Michael mentioned and laid his head back down, hand moving from your leg to your waist above the covers he was under. While he was enjoying having a little baby in his life, Michael was in the group of people who thought that, maybe, ten pictures a day on average was, maybe, too much to receive of baby Molly Irwin.
“I want a tiny Molly.” Pouting, you managed to say through your jetted out lips as your fingers curled through his hair, softly massaging his sculpt as you did whenever you two were lying around together, doing nothing and still having a nice time.
Michael’s smile curved deviously, his eyes closed as he squished the side of his face deeper into the pillow, “Then let’s make one.” He pinned your leg down with his hand already on it, tightening his grip and pressing his dry fingers into your skin.
“I’m being serious.” Your husband was flaw free when it came to turning anything into a segway for sex, especially casual afternoon sex with lazy thrusts and sleepy eyes.
“So am I.” Opening up his eyes, Michael nearly growled at you.
“Yeah, you’ll actually want to raise a little person long after the fun part?” Narrowing your chin down to him, leading your eyes into his before they could shut again, you asked. “We never really talked about kids before we got married.” Looking back, you felt you probably should have. It was important as anything you two did discuss like where in the world you would consider home base and which drawer would be dedicated to take-out menus.
“Yes we did.” Scrunching up his eyebrows, he retorted.
“You telling me that you want a Jigglypuff to be carried around in my pouch like a kangaroo would a joey is not talking about kids.” Rolling your eyes, you laughed and bat hair from his eyes. “Strangely enough that isn’t the weirdest thing you’ve said while drunk.” It was hard to pick which quote from Michael’s slurred mouth was your favorite, but everyone who knew him seemed to have a top ten. He could only laugh at the sound of something he once said, probably with a straight face and deadpanned voice.
“Well, I do want kids. I’ve never thought about having many, but I’d like a couple. I think siblings are important.” He knew the loneliness of being an old child and therefore wanted more than just one child himself. Since the band still toured, he felt too busy to be raising a full football team, but he was interested to see how Ashton handled bringing his own clan on the road with them. They had a few dates since Molly’s birth, but he never actually brought his daughter around for more than a couple ages, just to give her a kiss goodnight before a show or have a meal with his wife and newborn.
“Two?”
Lips pursed together, he tossed his head lightly from side to side, “Maybe, three.” He tried to evaluate on the spot, thinking that three would be nice if they all got along and no one was ever left out. “So, should we make this happen now?” With his hands on your legs again, one on each, he pulled you down so your back could collide with the feather mattress, pulling himself up and over you slightly.
“You have a one track mind, Michael Cilfford.” Shaking your head, you laughed, half amused by the way he still groped and grabbed at you like two teenagers in the audience of a KISS reunion show, making out in-between mouthing the words to choruses.
Michael was nuzzled up to your neck, his head fitting perfectly in the space of your shoulder and chin, nibbling slightly on your skin and moaning words that you couldn’t make out.
“You’ll be an excellent mother.” Looking up, he let you know sincerely more his teeth were pinching at your skin again, still soft as if you had only just come out of the shower.
LUKE
“Look, babe, I’m pregnant again.” Chuckling, you walked around the kitchen table, fresh from your morning jog, and dropped a magazine right in front of Luke as he was eating his cereal in his boxers and a plain grey t-shirt. “I didn’t know until we rounded about the petrol station, but now I do.” Shrugging, you chuckled on your way to the fridge, opening it up and helping yourself to a cold water bottle from the door shelf. “You okay with it?” It seemed like since you and Luke married, you were pregnant every month according to a tabloid or celebrity blogger. There was even one time before you were married, just young and new to one another, where Perez Hilton said you were four months and you woke up a very perturbed Liz Hemmings on the phone with Luke.
Chewing on milky Cherrios, Luke brought the magazine closer to him, a small top corner dedicated to a picture of him and you taken last year outside of Opera where you had gone to celebrate Calum’s then birthday. You certainly didn’t look pregnant in the shot, but below the caption read ‘HEMMINGS BABY FINALLY!’ just as it had a few times before.
“Maybe this is a sign,” As soon as he swallowed his spoonful, Luke began. He knew an open door when he saw one. “Maybe, I should be knocking you up.” Without much grace or romance, he mentioned. It was off the cuff, just as if you two were talking about where you wanted to go for dinner.
A full 180 degrees, you spun around, ponytail flying like a helicopter propeller, and latched onto him with a surprised stare, water bottle already in your mouth. You felt like if you let it go, you might actually choke.
“That was not the reaction I was expecting.” You told him after gasping for air. Usually, Luke rolled his eyes at the rumors and apologized, his irritation low, but unhidden.
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while anyway.” He dipped his spoon back into the large bowl, stirring around what was left of his breakfast and eying you to try and read where your mind was. “It might be kind of nice to clear the boxes out of the room we’ve just been storing stuff in, fill the hallway with some noise…” He really liked having Ashton and Michael’s little girls on the bus and thought adding his own kin would only make things better. Most importantly though, since he had a break from his usually international schedule, Luke was able to think clearly. He was able to wake up to you for more than four days in a row and consider a real future, further than he did when he slipped the fat rock that hadn’t left your finger since he nervously slid it on.
“I’ve been thinking about it a lot, too.” Biting down on your lip, you told him, coming over to the table for a kiss out of sheer excitement. You didn’t care that you were still glistening from sweat and that he probably had morning breath. He reached up for your waist and pulled you onto his lap, fitting you right between his chest and the table’s edge. “We’re going to try and have a baby?” After kissing him, your hand still on his unshaven face, you checked with wishful eyes aglow.
“We’re going to try and have a thousand.” He said seriously before cracking up and letting a smile take control of his face, leaning in to kiss you again, a small peck.
“How about we just start with one?”
“Alright. If you don’t think you can handle a thousand…” Jokingly, Luke rolled around his blue eyes, tickling your waist with his fingers, his hand feeling the skin beneath the fabric of your favorite exercise top.