#aiblurb

“I’m right here.”

It was the last thing Ashton expected when he got home from the studio. It wasn’t the first time he had encountered it, and it wouldn’t be the last - every time made him panic just at the sight of you.

He felt like he was getting better at being a source of comfort for you. He had his own ways of managing his own anxieties. But if there was anything he had learned from being around many different people each with their own mental health issues, it was that everyone dealt with them differently.

“I can’t breathe.” Your chest felt constricted as you tried to speak, unable to stop pacing around the dimly lit lounge as though it would help to calm you down.

Sitting in one spot proved difficult when you felt this anxious. Even if you managed to stay sitting, your knee was constantly shaking, or you were tapping your nails against whatever surface you could find. These were all signs that Ashton would usually pick up on. He hadn’t today, as he had been in the studio since the early morning.

“Hey lovebug,” Ashton said with a beaming smile as his daughter toddled over to his side.

Ashton reached down to scoop her up and sit her on his lap, the toddler craving his attention. He was on a video call with the band for album promo and as soon as her face filled the screen the rest of the guys started cooing. Her curls were wild and Ashton could tell she was tired but couldn’t sleep; often needing him to rock her or hum a little lullaby for her to settle down and drift off. She lifted her little hand and waved at the screen; seeing her uncles and having to say hi. Michael waved back with a scrunched up face, Luke waved and made Petunia wave too. Calum leaned forward, grin growing as he said hi to her. Ashton unplugged his headphones so she could hear her uncles.

“What are you doing up?” Calum asked, voice gone soft and concerned, knowing it was past her bedtime.

She babbled something incoherent and Ashton translated it to, “She can’t sleep until I hum her a lullaby,” then looked down at her. “Isn’t that right lovebug?” She merely blinked with tired eyes in response.

“Oh! We should all hum,” Michael suggested, eyes alight and not waiting for a response before starting to hum something vaguely similar to twinkle twinkle little star. Calum and Luke joined in but the noises didn’t translate well through the crossed connections and she turned away, burying her face against Ashton and eliciting laughter from everyone.

“Ash, I hate to break it to ya but I don’t think your daughter is a fan of the band,” Luke teased.

“Only dada hum,” she insisted and Ashton smirked.

“Hates the band. Loves me though. Clearly I’m the superior member,” Ashton fired back and ran his fingers through her curls, ducked down to her and promised he would once the call was over.

The end of the party leaves you and Ashton in a mess of celebration. There’s cups and discarded bottles everywhere. The music has finally been turned down and the last of the guests—Ashton’s family as a big surprise to him—have just left for the night. Ashton’s still beaming and reeling from the small but a bit out of hand party. You’re happy the night is bringing him so much joy. There’s a secret on your lips begging to come out; another something you hope will make him even happier. Something you’ve been dying to tell him since yesterday when you found out. But you waited until tonight, deciding it’d be better than any birthday present one could buy. Once the house is cleaned up enough to go to bed with a little peace of mind you trail him to the bedroom, nearly skipping in your delight.

“What’s got you so happy?” He asks as he discards his shirt to get ready for bed.

You bite your lip and shrug. Move closer to him and wrap him in a hug. “I’ve got one last present for you.”

“Oh?” Ashton asks with a mischievous smile and you giggle. “Really?”

“Mhm,” you say and motion for him to take a seat on the bed. “But I thought it should be done in private.”

Your hands settle on his shoulders as you stand in front of him and dip down to give him a kiss. His hands are warm and strong on your waist as you settle on his lap.

“I just thought you should know that by your next birthday there will be three of us.”

You see the confusion come and go quickly, the bewilderment is quickly replaced with sparking elation as he lights up. You know he’s been waiting for this moment; you’ve been trying for months now.

“Really?” He asks, wanting to be extra sure.

Ashton’s idea of an ideal first date never included being pressured into it through faculty and students alike. He liked you well enough, made good conversation with you in the teacher’s lounge and constantly strived to make you laugh as the sound was infectious and your smile was radiant. But, he hadn’t considered anything other than friendship when mixing work and relationships. Though everyone inside the school seemed to think there was something more between you two. The date had started as a joke, to mock the rumors and thoughts that circulated, to kick back and enjoy some time away from the usual fray. It turned serious when Ashton realized how much he truly enjoyed your company.

You were different away from work. More relaxed and open, and though it was initially a little awkward due to the circumstances that brought you together it was well worth breaking through the ice. You went for drinks and after only one you left the bar in favor of walking through the park. Leaves scattered the pavement and danced through the grass, the evening was young and a little chilly—a small breeze cutting through every so often—but it offered a chance to stay close together.

“I’m glad I came out tonight,” you admitted around a slight blush. “I wasn’t so sure about this.”

“Doubt that I’m a good date?” Ashton responded with a teasing tone and glint in his hazel eyes.

You laughed. “No. But all the pressure from everyone seemed like a lot to live up to. I think it has though.”

The night ended in your admission and an offering of another one. The next day brought questions from students that made you both flustered and observations from coworkers that couldn’t be denied. A bunch of ‘told you so’s’ followed. Neither of you minded.

Ashton would have his suspicions about the birthday dinner; knowing how his partner usually goes above and beyond and doubt it’s just a dinner. So, he’s not too surprised when they walk into the restaurant to bet with friends. What really gets him is seeing his mom and siblings tucked into the corner with greeting smiles and hugs awaiting him. He wouldn’t know how his partner pulled it off, formulating a plan to get them there behind his back and keeping it secret for so long. But he’d appreciate it with his entire being.

Maybe during the practice before, you get into it with Ash, who’s like the unspoken captain of the team. You tell him he’s being unreasonable—which he is since he essentially wants to pull you from the roster, last minute, and to your knowledge for no apparent reason. For Ashton, he just has a bad feeling that something’s going to go wrong but you’re both too heated to actually stop and listen to each other. The rest of the team can only but watch the crossfire until Calum gets there. (2/3)

To your chagrin, Cal sides with Ashton. You have no choice but to bring it up to the coaches and you plead your case flawlessly—you’re a damn good player, very well rounded and it would be a shame to sit out on such an important game. Obviously, the coaches let you play because not letting you based on a /feeling/ is absurd. To make matters worse, after the meeting, you’re still peeved and so you ignore the boys for the rest of the day and some of the next few until the big game. (3/3)

—

The silence is heavy, you’re unsure if you’ve ever gone this long without talking to them. Days on end seems impossible but you don’t crack. It’s not until the day of the game that you evenly meet Ashton’s gaze, he offers a timid smile in acknowledgement and you shoulder past him in the dugout, taking up a home on the opposite end as the coaches and players filter in. The game begins without a hitch, you’re in the outfield as usual but there’s not too much traffic coming your way. Michael’s pitching is superb and you suppose you’ll give credit to Ash being a quick and defensive catcher. It also helps that Cal is one of the best shortstops you’ve ever seen, he can seamlessly catch what seem like missiles coming off the bat and turn a double play like there’s no tomorrow.

It’s not until the bottom of the third inning Ashton and Calum grow wary. The lineup calls for you to lead off the inning at the plate. You huff and roll your eyes at their hovering worry, though deep down you appreciate their protective instincts. But you write them off to being silly. Until you’re pushing out of the way of pitches, cleats stirring up dirt and heart racing at fastballs coming a little too close to be a coincidence. You take a walk and throw your bat away in annoyance as you stare down the pitcher and ignore a petty comment from the catcher. The inning ends with you stranded on third and no score on the board.

You soften as you grab your glove and realize their worry wasn’t in vain, but you’re grown up and can make your own decisions. You want to play. Cal and Ash won’t sway you, no matter the convincing tone they take and pleading eyes as you go your separate ways on the field.

The game goes in a whirl and it comes down to the bottom of the ninth, all tied up and runners in scoring position for you as you take up your hitting stance. You’ve been ducking and dodging pitches all game, struck out a couple as they brought the bullpen in for a reliever. The closer stares you down and you recognize him as being one of Calum and Ashton’s least favorite people. You steel yourself. Grip the bat and plant your feet, eyes focused. The first pitch comes in hot and fast down the middle. Strike one. The second cuts a little closer, you maneuver away and try not to let it get to you. One ball, one strike. The third pitch has you falling back, an attempted headshot having your heart racing in fear as you fall to the dirt and thank your lucky stars there was no connection. You’re facedown and can only hear the stampede of footsteps taking the field on your behalf. A fight has broken out and you’re helpless to stop it.

—

“I told you I’d be fine,” you murmur as you hold an ice pack to Calum’s cheek with one hand and brush Ashton’s bruising knuckles with the other. “You didn’t have to start a fight.”

“They started it when they messed with you,” Calum grumbles and Ashton agrees quickly.

“Can’t let them get away with that. They could’ve hurt you.”

You sigh. “I know. But they didn’t. And I-“

“Hit the walk off,” Ashton finishes, going from an angered mess to beaming with pride in an instant. “Probably hurt their pride worse than our little scuffle with them.”

“I told you. I can take care of myself.”

“You can. But we’re always gonna be there for you too,” Calum promises with a soft tone and a hand finding yours holding the ice pack in place. Ashton agrees with a nod and entwines your fingers.

I did it list style and you already know I’m dumb and accidentally deleted it yesterday so this is what my memory could recover:

They teach you the fundamentals first. They tell you, then they show you, then they help you do it.

They break down terminology and abbreviations. They ask you what you think they mean to see if you have any grasp on it and smile when your answers are almost right. They correct you and praise you, telling you you might know more than you think.

Calum covers the bases, except home plate which stays strictly Ashton’s domain, and his specialty of shortstop. He explains all the players responsibilities and shows you the typical ground they cover. He explains double plays and goes on to how rare a triple play is and how perfect the execution and circumstances need to be. He boasts just a bit, proud of the fact he’s helped turn a couple.

Ashton starts with his catchers duties, tells you about signals and shows you how to make the signs. Helps you into stances and shows you how to throw a runner out. Then he shows you how the outfield operates; the different domains of right, center and left.

They both tackle pitching. All of Ashton’s time catching gives him a sharp eye and intuition. Calum’s batting record speaks for itself and shows his understanding of pitching. Neither can throw quite like a pitcher but they have decent enough arms to mimic some basic pitches and help you learn the movements.

Once the defensive knowledge is dispersed they move onto batting. They definitely do the very cliche move of wrapping their arms around you to help instruct your swing; taking turns to guide you and throw easy tosses your way.

Once you’re comfortable enough Calum takes up position as pitcher and Ashton catches for him while you give batting a proper try. You strike out again and again—Calum clearly challenging you but still bearing in mind you’re just learning. They break out into grins when you get a hit, basically a bunt that lands the ball barely fair and in no man’s land.

You run for first as if it’s a real game but without a first baseman Calum runs after you, scoops you up and stops you in your tracks until Ashton secures the ball and tags you out; all the while laughing and congratulating you for making contact—not admitting it was a hit, insisting you would have been out in a real game. And you just laugh at how competitive they are.

Summary: New and old traditions with Ashton leave your heart hopeful and full of winter wonder. 

Word count: 1k

***

Thousands of lights twinkled before you. They were strung up around a vast botanical garden; the lights gave life to bare branches and a dark night. The moon was just a sliver in the sky but the stars shining above blended in with twinkling bursts of illumination. Looking around was wondrous; catching gazes with Ashton and taking in hazel eyes reflecting lights and radiating warmth left a beautiful hum thrumming through your bloodstream. His hand in yours was natural and innate, and though the connection was veiled by gloves to keep fingers from freezing you could still feel the spark connection had brought you since your first date. Ever since the first time his fingertips brushed your skin and heated your cheeks.