#god i fucking love queuing fics it's such a unique brand of chaos

[clumsyclifford]

What about peace by Taylor swift? I don’t have a specific ship I jsut like that song

hey babe it’s been a minute since you sent me this but i knew when you did that it was gonna be mashton and i just needed to be in the right headspace and finally i’ve written it <3 i fucking love this song so i hope i did it justice !!

ao3 link!

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Michael is tired.

It’s late, really late, so maybe that’s why; maybe it’s just the weight of the darkness, tugging at his limbs, wearing him out. Maybe a good night’s sleep would fix it, but Michael doubts it. It’s not that kind of tired.

No, this tired is deep and abiding. It’s been there for a long time, and it doesn’t look like it’s going anywhere anytime soon. He’s tired of having his guard up, tired of hiding his face behind real walls, his heart behind figurative ones, tired of blinking camera flashes out of his eyes. Tired of reading about himself in the news. 

Tired of pretending he’s not tired.

In his arms, yawning, Ashton is sleep-tired. Michael can tell. The night is pulling at them both, and in a few minutes Ashton will probably fall asleep. They’re not tired for any reason except the hour; the day had been relaxing, easy, comfortable. Michael loves relaxing evenings with Ashton, eating pizza and cuddling in front of the TV, when the biggest stressor is trying to guess who will get eliminated from whatever shitty reality show they’ve put on. For a few hours, Michael gets to forget about his baggage, about the madness that is his life; sometimes Ashton will try to carry the burden, but on days like these he manages to vanish it completely, for just a little while.

But it’s back, now. And Ashton has been around for long enough that Michael figures they should at least talk about it. Ashton deserves a warning. If this is going to become anything, anything at all more than it already is — and Michael has his doubts, because inevitably every time he’s ever gotten close to anything more it’s crashed and burned before him — Ashton should know what he’s getting into. 

Before Michael can say anything, though, Ashton murmurs, “You okay, Mike?”

Michael sighs. Trust Ashton to know. “Why do you ask?”

Ashton tilts his head to look Michael in the eyes. “I don’t know. Your…vibes are different.”

Michael huffs a laugh. “My vibes?”

“Yes, your vibes,” Ashton says stubbornly. “They’re off. What’s going on?” He kisses Michael’s shoulder. “Thinking hard?”

Michael inclines his head. “When am I not?”

“True,” Ashton says, smiling gently. “About what?”

About how this relationship has an expiration date, Michael doesn’t say. He worries his bottom lip and avoids Ashton’s eyes. About how badly I want you to stay, and how likely you are to leave when I tell you the reality of my life. Ashton’s eyes will trip him up, because they’re so earnest, so sincere, and Michael will forget about his stupid fucking hangups and just say, like, you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever met or I love you I love you I love you please never leave or even just nothing, let’s go to sleep.

“There’s something I want to talk to you about,” he says carefully. “Nothing bad. Well. Nothing bad about you.” 

Ashton frowns. “Okay,” he says.

Michael closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. “So, um, obviously I love you. So much. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met, and I — I don’t know how my luck is this good after everything, that I found you, that you…want to be with me, but.” Another breath. “But you have to know that this isn’t going to be, like, a normal relationship.”

He pauses. Ashton says, a hint wry, “Yeah, I figured.”

“Okay, but you’re not — fuck, I don’t want to sound arrogant or anything here,” Michael says, pressing the heels of his palm against his eyes. “Like, I’m really…famous?” He laughs a bit. “Yeah. I’m really famous.”

“I know that.”

“And I’ve taken a lot of shit in the past, and like, whatever, I can get past that, but…the people who are in relationships with me take a lot of shit, too. Without fail. Every boyfriend I’ve ever had has had at least one scathing article about them. No matter what I do, it always happens. I can’t stop them writing about my life.” He opens his eyes finally, and he looks over at Ashton, whose face is unreadable. Michael doesn’t like that; Ashton wears his heart on his sleeve, most of the time. “You’ll never have peace with me, Ash. I can’t control that. So you just should know that.” He swallows. “I’m sorry.”

Ashton looks mildly alarmed. “Why are you sorry? Are you breaking up with me?”

“No! No, no, fuck no,” Michael says quickly. “I’m sorry that we can’t just be a normal couple in a normal relationship. I’m sorry this won’t be easy, I’m sorry that it has to be this complicated. I’m — I’m fucking sorry that being with me comes with all this fine print. You’re incredible, and I love you, but you can’t be flying blind here. I’m giving you the chance to —”

“To leave?” Ashton says, in a strangled voice. “You think I’d leave because it’s hard? All relationships are hard, Michael.”

“I’m not saying they’re not,” Michael says firmly. “But this one is hard in a really atypical way, you have to at least admit that.”

“Every relationship has challenges,” Ashton says. Michael opens his mouth, but Ashton beats him to it. “Okay, I get it that this is different. You’re one of the biggest pop stars in the world, and I’m just some bloke from Australia. Yeah, it’s not the same, but whatever. I love you. We’ll figure it out.”

And if we don’t? Michael thinks, but looking at Ashton, he can’t bring himself to say it. “That’s the thing, though, you know? You’re not just some bloke from Australia. Not to me, but also not to them. You’re going to be Michael Clifford’s boyfriend.” Bitterly, he scoffs, “His latest boyfriend. Latest in a string of failed relationships, is probably what they’ll say.”

“Fine,” Ashton says, and his voice sounds like steel. “Michael, you have to know I don’t care. I don’t care. They don’t know what we know. They’re not here with us.”

“You say that now,” Michael says.

“And I’ll say it forever,” Ashton interrupts. “Michael. I love you. That’s the only thing that matters to me, okay? Everything else we’ll deal with as it comes. That’s how every relationship is.” He cradles Michael’s face in his hands, palms as warm as his voice when he speaks again. “I don’t want peace, Michael. I don’t want easy. I want you, whatever that takes.”

Michael stares at him, but Ashton doesn’t waver. “Okay,” he says quietly. “But if you change your mind —”

“Stop,” Ashton says, and Michael falls silent, always at Ashton’s whim. “You’re telling me all the reasons this relationship won’t work. What about all the reasons it will? What about the reasons it does?” He holds up a finger. “First of all, I love you.” A second finger. “And you love me. So that’s already two reasons.”

Michael bites his lip. “Yeah. True.”

“Third,” Ashton says, “I’m an excellent cook, and you’re awful at it. So you need me around.”

A laugh escapes off Michael’s tongue despite his best efforts to stop it. “Hey, now.”

“Fourth, my siblings would probably kill me if I broke up with you,” Ashton says, putting up a fourth finger. Michael giggles. “And I enjoy being alive. Don’t even get me started on my mum.”

“My mum would kill me,” Michael agrees.

“Fifth,” Ashton says softly, lowering his hand to link it with Michael’s, “I am hopelessly in love with you.” Michael feels himself blush, feels his heart rate pick up even though it’s not the first time Ashton’s said it. Ashton always makes his heartbeat feel like a drumroll. “So whatever happens, happens, but I’m not going anywhere if I have anything to say about it. Rain or shine. You’re far too important to me for that.”

Michael wonders if it would be wrong to cry, or if Ashton would take it the wrong way. He doesn’t cry, but it’s a close thing, so instead he presses forward, capturing Ashton’s lips in his own, trying to say me too without having to actually say it, because to say it wouldn’t feel like enough. Two syllables can’t adequately express everything Michael feels about Ashton, now and forever, but maybe Ashton will understand anyway. Maybe Ashton will just know.

“I don’t know how I got this lucky, but holy fuck, I am so glad I did,” Michael breathes, pulling barely away, leaning his forehead against Ashton’s. “You mean the world to me, Ash. I love you. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Thank you,” Michael amends, because that’s what he means anyway. “Thank you for — fuck, for everything. For hearing me out. For still being here. For being the best fucking person I’ve ever known.”

The corners of Ashton’s mouth pull upward. “I’ll accept that. And thank you for trusting me.”

It had never been a question, whether or not Michael ought to trust Ashton, to love Ashton. From their first day, Michael had been sold; to fall in love with Ashton had always been a question of when and not if. “Look at us,” he murmurs, “communicating like mature adults. If only the press could see us now.”

Ashton laughs. “You don’t want that.”

“No, I don’t.” He can’t avoid it — neither of them can — but Michael can pretend, just for now. This moment, with Ashton, can be their secret. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Ashton echoes. He presses another kiss to Michael’s lips. “And I’m tired, and I can tell you are too. Stop thinking so hard for tonight. Go to sleep.”

There’s nothing Michael wants more. “Okay,” he says. There’s a rare, unfamiliar feeling settling in his chest, his bones, as he shifts his position to fully embrace Ashton, brushing a kiss to the back of his neck. 

As Michael falls asleep, Ashton’s heartbeat under his hands, he realizes the feeling is peace.