5SOS Preferences

You Wear His Shirt (T)

Michael:  You hear pounding at the door to your hotel room and groggily open your eyes. “What?!” Michael yells from next to you. “Let me in!” You hear a voice outside the room. Michael curses, but rolls out of bed anyway. He stumbles to the door in his boxers, pushing his hair back absentmindedly before opening the door. “Michael we were supposed to be on the road 20 minutes ago!” Calum tells him. “Seriously?!” Michael asks, panicked. Calum nods urgently. “We’ll be right down!” Michael says before shutting the door. You’re already out of bed and looking for your clothes when he turns back to you. “I can’t find my shirt!” You tell him as you pull on your jeans. “Just wear this!” He tells you, tossing you a wrinkled t-shirt. You pull it on and rush to wipe off the makeup leftover from last night as Michael finishes dressing. “We gotta go!” Michael says, opening the door. You look at your messy reflection in the mirror and sigh before rushing to catch up to Michael. On the way down to the hotel lobby you tie your hair up in a messy bun, attempting to look semi-presentable. You step out of the hotel and are immediately surrounded by fans as you make your way to the bus, hand in hand with Michael. Once on the bus you plop down on the couch and pull out your phone, already receiving tweets about you in Michael’s shirt and his sex hair.

Calum: Calum walks down to the kitchen and hops up onto the counter near where you’re cooking. “Good morning,” you say, kissing his cheek. “Mhm,” Calum mumbles, rubbing his eyes. “Want breakfast?” You offer, “I was gonna make pancakes.” Calum nods sleepily, yawning. He hops off the counter and pulls you into a tight hug. After letting you go, he looks down at your bare legs and the shirt you’re wearing. “Nice shirt,” he comments, laughing. “If you leave your clothes on the floor I’m gonna wear ‘em,” you reply, laughing as well. “Fine with me,” he says, shrugging, “You look hot.” “Thanks,” you laugh, blushing. “But then again, you always look hot,” he adds thoughtfully. You laugh as he pulls you into another hug, resting his chin on top of your head and rubbing your back. You hear his stomach growl and you giggle, “I should start those pancakes.”

Ashton:  "Babe!" You hear Ashton call from the other room. "In the living room!" You shout back. Seconds later Ashton hurries in planting himself next to where you sit wrapped in blankets and watching TV. "Have you seen my ACDC shirt?" He asks, brow furrowed. "Noooo," you lie, pulling the blankets higher over you to hide the shirt you wore. "You’re such a bad liar!" Ashton laughs, "You’re wearing it aren’t you?" You blush, tightening the blankets around you. "Maybe," you say evasively. "Give it!" He laughs, reaching out his hand. You shake your head pouting. "C’mon," he coaxes. You give a heavy sigh and push the blankets off of you, revealing his shirt. "And now go change," he instructs, laughing. You glare at him playfully and stand up, grabbing at the hem of the shirt and lifting it over your head, leaving you in your bra. "Happy now?" you ask, smirking and tossing the shirt at Ashton. "I, uh, erm," he mumbles incoherently as he attempts to draw his eyes away from your chest. You laugh and leave for the bedroom, returning moments later in his Ponies shirt.

Luke: You sit on the tour bus, scrolling disinterestedly through twitter while you wait for Luke to get back with food. Finally the door opens and Luke comes in along with the rest of 5SOS. “Food!” You yell, jumping up. “Y/n,” Luke sighs, “How may times have I told you that you can’t wear that shirt on concert days?” You look down, guiltily, and mumble, “A lot.” “Exactly,” Luke says with a little laugh. “Can you change into a different one?” You think for a second, biting your lip before replying, “Make me.” “Make you?” Luke repeats, looking confused. You cross your arms and explain, “If you want me to change, you’re gonna have to catch me!” With that you tore off down the tour bus, leaving a shocked Luke and his laughing friends standing in the doorway. You climb into Luke’s bunk, pulling the covers up over your head. It was only seconds before the covers are thrown back and Luke’s hands are tickling your rib cage. “Luke! Stop!” You shriek, arms and legs flailing wildly. “Give me my shirt!” He commands, still tickling you mercilessly. “Never!” You manage to yell. “Fine. I’ll just have to take it!” He replies. As one hand begins to tickle under your shirt, the other grabs the hem, managing to pull it off over your head. “YES!” Luke yells triumphantly. Out of breath from laughing, you don’t reply. He collapses next to you on the bunk, laughing as well.