Seventeen

Epilogue

Ashton's fingers run over the edge of the crib in front of him, brushing over the smooth, white wood. He smiles softly when his eyes drift down the thick bars and towards the green sheet covering the mattress, finally settling on his baby. His tiny baby, his little bean, who kicks her feet in delight and shoves her little fist into her mouth at the sight of her father.

Her pale cheeks are flushed pink from the warmth in the nursery, and her small, blue onesie is zipped all the way up her soft chest. The blonde hair curls around her soft head and her green eyes absolutely sparkle when she looks up at him.

She squeals happily and reaches up with the hand that's not in her mouth, so Ashton let's her grab onto his finger tightly.

Ashton loves his daughter. He's waited years to have her; five years, exactly, since her older brother was born. Fifteen since Luke's death. She's the one he's been waiting for, the little girl he's wanted since the miscarriage, and he's happy now that he has her. He's content with his daughter. The rest of his life, not as much. He loves his son, as well, but the boy has always looked up to Michael and Calum more than him.

Ashton smiles at his daughter and flicks his eyes over to the small clock on the wall to find that it's already past midnight. "Want to go for a drive, princess?" She giggles at the sound of her father's voice in the dimly lit room, so Ashton takes that as a yes and pulls her of of the crib. She's too old to be cradled, but Ashton tucks her into his arms, anyway, and flees the room.

With June tucked warmly into her jacket in the car seat, Ashton drives them downtown. He pulls her tighter against his chest when he removes her from the car again, glancing around nervously at the sound of the sirens and the busy traffic a few blocks away. The city isn't a good place for his perfect daughter, which is why Ashton lives in the suburbs of Manhattan with Michael, Calum, his little boy, Chase, and June.

The trip into the city is necessary, through. It's been raining all week, as is usual in mid September, and the storage unit tends to leak. Everything inside is wrapped carefully in plastic, but it still makes Ashton nervous. He pulls the key from his pocket and sets his daughter on his hip as he crouches down to unlock the door. As soon as he wrestles the lock off, he slides the small garage door up and peers inside.

It's too dark to make out anything except for shapes and sizes, so Ashton flicks on the light and watches as it buzzes to life. The plastic covered canvases are fine. He circles the room twice in search of leaks and is pleased when he finds none. He'd sealed a couple holes in the crease between the wall and the floor a few months ago, along with the drips in the ceiling. They seem to be holding, for which Ashton is glad.

He closes up the storage unit again and locks the door firmly in place. As he's setting June back into her car seat, he brushes his thumb across her full, pink cheeks and smiles when she breaks into happy giggles. "Everything's going to be so much better soon, princess," he assures her quietly. "I promise."

☆☆

Michael's home early from Seventeen's studio, rubbing a hand through his hair and spotted brightly with paint. He smiles at his husband, who's on the couch with Chase's head in his lap. Their son is fast asleep with Ashton's fingers running through his dark blonde curls. On the floor, June is resting on a blanket, attempting to shove a blue ring for one of her toys into her mouth. Michael knows Ashton will pull it away later, swipe it with a disinfecting wipe, and hand it back to her.

"Hey," he says as he walks into the living room. Ashton looks away from the kid's show on television and smiles up at him.

"Hey," he whispers. His hand never stills in Chase's hair, Michael finds himself wishing Ashton would pet him like that.