{so the rest of this whole thing is gonna be mainly mash tom but it's hot as heck so i suggest you keep reading please}
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The thing about Michael is that you never fucking know with him.
It has been three days since he won the jerketition, and yet there is no sign of him wanting to actually claim his prize: a week of Ashton as his (sex)slave. He jokes and smiles and teases the boys occasionally, but that's about it. He's never, not even once, reminded Ash about the bet and Ashton is really confused by now. He seemed so determinated when he came, insisting on how he is about to enjoy the week full of commanding and blowjobs, but three days came and went and Mikey acts like it was all a big joke.
You see, the thing is, before the bet, or even few minutes into it, Ash would be the happiest person on this planet that Mikey doesn't seem to force Ash into this. But there were certain thoughts since the start and he swore to God and himself he'd learn everything there is about Mikey, because obviously he has failed as his best friend. He's supposed to know what Michael prefers, what he likes, what he enjoys. He was trying for the past three days to get to know him; ask him questions, listen, try not to make the conversation about himself, but only about Mikey. The results were even worse than Ash had expected.
Michael isn't used to talking about his personal life. He says a vague sentence about himself and then immediately turns the tables to ask about Ashton, or he makes a general comment, or changes subject completely. When Ash asked, as a start, about his current favourite videogame to play, Mikey said "Same old, you know how weird I am. Anyway, I messaged Feldy yesterday and he said you and him had a writing session? What do you have, can I see? Are there some lyrics in your head? Tell me!" and Ashton paid attention this time, he knew what Mikey was doing, he just had no idea... why. He asked about him then, wanted to know if Mikey was writing something and if he wanted to join their next session this weekend, but Mikey replied with "Thank you, Ash, you are lovely. Well, I always have some words in mind, you see. I just never really... like everytime I write it I feel like I can do better, so I start over again. I've never seen you do so. You just... have an idea, you write it down and then you show it to us so we can help you out. Mostly Cal. Geez, he's literally one of the best lyricist I've ever met. Or a poet. Like Josh Ramsay or Gerard Way, you know, like all the big names in the rock music industry. I think that among all of us, Cali has got the biggest talent."
Ashton wanted to cry after that. Wrapped Around Your Finger, Rejects, Good Girls, Beside You, Jet Black Heart, Permanent Vacation, Airplanes. Ash just really wanted to cry. Hug Mikey and tell him how important and talented he was, but... he didn't. For some reason he wasn't even able to tell him how much he means to him and how much better he gets with every song he writes, with every idea he brings to the table, with every quitar solo he masters on stage.
There are so many things Ashton needs to fix, he just doesn't know how. Mike is just like a wild animal, he needs to be treated carefully and gently; you have to wait for him to come to you, you have to speak quietly and only when he seems to be interested. But even when he seeks attention and company for cuddles, you need to remember he gets scared easily, he shuts away when you approach a subject he feels uncomfortable about. Pushing him into talking about himself would do more harm than good. Ash wants to cry and punch himself in the face, because he deserves it.
At this very moment, Mikey is laying on his bed, obviously scrolling tumblr and looking at peace. Even from where Ash is standing, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe, his lead guitarist smells like vanilla and something sweet to it – he must have just stepped out of shower. He might as well be naked under his duvet, the drummer realizes, and Ash can't help himself but scan the boy's hair, still wet and plastered to his neck, his naked shoulders and back. Ash notices how his spine and muscles are clearly visible in the dimmed lightning. He can see as far as Michael's dimples on the small of his back; the rest of his body is covered with a blue duvet. Ash scans the duvet, guessing Michaels curves under it, imagines his nice ass, smooth pale things and unexpectedly strong calves. He smirks to himself and is about to leave his younger friend to the jet black pitch of rare memes, as Michael speaks up: "Need anything?"
