#ugh. mashton. love them. i think they're so great.

[allsassnoclass]

for the fic prompt: 47 for mashton? (or cashton if you want someone else) -megs 💕

alrighty megs here you go @igarbagecannoteven

mashton: “Did you get my letter?”

Michael doesn’t think he’s very eloquent. He definitely is more of an actions than a words guy, and it’s a lot easier to slam doors or hug someone than to actually try to verbalize how he’s feeling. When someone makes dinner, he'll clear the table without a second thought, but he'll forget to say "thank you." When he's upset, he's leagues more likely to retreat to his room to stew or immediately try to fix it by himself rather than find the words to say what's wrong to anyone else. He has to actively remind himself that people need explanations sometime and that no one else is in his head and can derive meaning from just his actions alone, but most of the time Michael feels like he communicates just fine while keeping silent.

Ashton is not like that.

Ashton talks all the time. The constant noise is something Michael loves about him, but it also means that he’s never quite sure if they’re on the same page. Ashton has to explain his thoughts in three different ways before Michael can comprehend, while Calum will understand his words immediately. Michael and Luke have a system of touches and body language that allows them to communicate seamlessly, but Ashton often stands at a loss for what Michael needs until he forcibly invades his space and shows him. It can be frustrating, but Michael loves Ashton, and Ashton loves him, so they deal with it.

(They've said that in words and in actions. Michael knows that they're on the same page there.)

Michael does sometimes wonder if Ashton knows how much he loves him. Does Ashton understand that when Michael pictures their future, it's always them together? Does he realize that Michael's heartbeat still quickens around him, even though no one can calm his nerves like Ashton does? Does Ashton know that when Michael kisses him, he's saying those three words over and over and over again in his mind?

Michael knows that they love each other, but Ashton says it all the time and Michael... doesn't. Not verbally. He'll kiss his cheek every time he passes, or come out of the bedroom to mess around on his computer on the couch while Ashton works nearby, or massage the knots out of his shoulders and back when he's had a bad day, but the words get lodged in his throat, and although Ashton can read Michael much better now than when they initially started things, he's still not sure if he gets it. The last thing he wants to do is let Ashton go through this life without realizing that Michael is just as head-over-heels for him as he is for Michael.

That's how he finds himself in his current position: sitting at the kitchen table, pen in hand and blank paper in front of him, suddenly forgetting every word he ever learned. He googled how to write a love letter earlier, but all of the suggestions looked more daunting than anything. Michael doesn't know how to be poetic. He doesn't know how to describe what Ashton makes it feel, because it's indescribable. It's like...

Yeah, he doesn't know how to do this. He has never written anyone a love letter before in his life, and choosing to start now seems like a bad idea.

It'll make Ashton happy, though. He'll probably smile that big, wonderful grin he has, like he does whenever Michael verbally says "I love you."

He likes Ashton's smile. He can put that down, although that feels kind of stupid. "I think your smile is pretty" isn't exactly "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day."

Ashton isn't really summer, though. Like, yeah, he's sunny and he's like a personal space heater whenever they cuddle, but he's more of a spring. Vibrant. Full of life. Like a promise of a better future. Comforting after a cold winter. Something more like that.

Fuck, this is hard.

Michael sighs. It's probably going to be shit anyway, but he should just start. He can get something really bad down, then adjust it and make it a little less bad. Besides, the most important part is the sincerity. Ashton will appreciate it if Michael just writes "I love you" over and over to fill space, because it's true, and it gets the point across well enough. Even if he uses shitty adjectives and he doesn't even know what a metaphor is anymore, it'll be better than staying silent. If Ashton needs him to elaborate, Michael can, like, give him a blowjob or something. But a sweet blowjob. A loving one.

Maybe a bubble bath instead. That feels more romantic.

Michael sighs again, then puts his pen against the paper and writes Dear Ashton.

It's not much, but at least it's a start.

-/-

Ashton comes home with a lot of noise, as always.

"Michael?" he calls in a voice too loud to be used indoors. "I'm home!"

"In the bedroom!" Michael calls back at a much more acceptable volume, not because he never shouts, but because he's mindful of their neighbors. He can hear the murmur of Ashton talking to himself as he goes about kicking off his shoes and putting his stuff away, mindless thoughts verbalized to help get himself in order rather than for anyone else to listen to. The noise stops and Michael's heartbeat quickens.

Ashton always goes to the kitchen to grab a snack before dinner when he gets home, which means he probably just found the envelope with his name on it housing Michael's letter.

Fuck, Michael's heart isn't just beating quickly, it's racing. He's going to have a heart attack if Ashton doesn't get in here soon.

He puts his laptop away and picks up his phone instead, pulling up a game to distract himself. He doesn't need to wait long before Ashton appears in the doorway, beelining to the bed and immediately weaseling his way into Michael's arms.

"Oh," Michael says, because Ashton is rarely the one to initiate full-body cuddles like this, with them completely pressed together and tangled up. Michael puts down his phone and shifts to make it easier, hooking a leg over his, twining them together. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Ashton says into his chest. "I love you."

"Oh," Michael repeats. "I love you, too?"

"I know," Ashton says. Michael holds him tighter.

"Did you get my letter?" he asks. Ashton nods.

"I love you," Ashton repeats. "So fucking much, Michael. That was the most loving thing anyone has ever done for me. You make my heart sing. I want to live every moment of my life making you happy."

Michael rests his cheek against the Ashton's head. He feels like he should say something here, but his well of words dried up earlier with the letter. At least Ashton gave him something to go off of.

"You make my heart sing, too," he says. "Sorry I don't know how to say it better."

"You say it all the time," Ashton says, shifting so he can look at Michael. His eyes are a little glassy, and Michael doesn't know what to do with the emotion brimming there.

"You say it every time you listen to me talk about stupid things for an hour, or when you order my favorite food when I'm in a bad mood. You say it when you take my hand when we're on a walk or when you cuddle up to me as soon as you get in bed and hold on so tightly in the morning it makes me not want to leave. You say it with a hand on my shoulder or a kiss on my lips. You say it, Michael. I hear it every time."

Michael swallows. He doesn't have the words like Ashton does, but they're on the same page. They have been this whole time.

He kisses Ashton, and all he hears is I love you, I love you, I love you.