The Stepbrother // Luke Hemmings

"are you in a band?"

for the most part, this is a filler. sorry if it's boring

34| "are you in a band?"

"So you want to tell me what the hell just happened?" Ashton mumbles, after a long while. We've been driving quietly for at least fifteen minutes now, and sighing, I shake my head and lean back against the window; closing my eyes.

"Well, after you got punched incredibly hard in the jaw, you proceeded to tackle and then continuously punch Luke in the face," I murmur.

Besides me, Ashton huffs, "Yeah, okay, I didn't exactly ask for a recap, Annie. I was there. Just like, what the hell was it all about?"

I sigh, annoyed, "You called him a 'fucking weirdo', Ash. I'm thinking, maybe he got offended. Maybe he doesn't like being called out of his name."

When I open my eyes, Ashton is looking at me, his eyebrows narrowed in irritated confusion. Nodding, he bites his lip and looks away from me; drumming his fingers against the steering wheel.

"What?" I whisper, turning to look out the window.

"Nothing, just ... why are you defending him? Just a second ago you were all screaming at him, and you were mad and now it's just l- "

Cutting him off, I sit up in my seat and say, "I'm not defending anyone."

"But, yo-"

"It doesn't matter, just stop talking about it," I mumble.

Ashton sighs, briefly closing his eyes, and he winces, "Man, my jaw hurts like fucking hell."

"Here, this should help." Leaning down I grab my satchel and sift around until my fingers close around the still cold bag of frozen peas. Shifting over, I gently press it against Ashton's cheek, "For the swelling."

Quickly turning his eyes away from the road, he glances at it and then up at me, a small smile lifting his lips, "Um?"

Glad that I managed to distract him from both Luke and the pain, I lean back and sigh, "I know, it's weird, but it does work."

"I know, I've done it before." He admits, nodding, "What I wanna know is why you're carrying them around in your bag?"

I lift my sprained arm, "That's why."

Ashton looks at me, before a soft smile turns up the corners of his mouth, "In the mood for a burger?"

"Always."

--

"I seriously don't understand how  you can't love pickles," Ashton laughs, reaching over the table and  picking the small, sliced dill pickles up off my plate. I watch, skeptically, as he leans his  head back before dropping them into his mouth; nodding his head as he  swallows them down, "You're insane."

"No, you're insane," With a quiet laugh, I shake my head and turn my attention back to the small diner around us.

Ashton drove us here, claiming that they had the best burgers and it'd be worth it. It's just outside of our town, a pit stop for truck drivers, and I couldn't deny not wanting to eat here. The whole place sorta just deemed, dirty?