Paint You Wings // Ashton Irwin [au]

Fifty-one

Emilia's POV

I always thought the excitement for Christmas would lessen as we age, that we didn't have to wake up at the crack ass of dawn to open presents and instead stall so that we can have a few more hours of sleep. I thought that once we became adults, we wouldn't act like children and get all giddy at the mere thought of opening gifts. I thought wrong.     

I finally understand how parents feel when their kids come into their room and cheer about how it's Christmas and that they need you to get up. Even though they may not be shouting and jumping on the bed to force us to get up, Michael, Calum, Luke, and Julia, are torturing us by blaring Christmas music right by mine and Ashton's ears. I've had my share of rude awakenings, but this just might take the gold.

Their pleas for Ashton and I to get up is downright annoying and if it weren't for it being the merriest holiday of the season, I would probably take whoever's phone is playing the music and toss it down the stairs to end the overly cheery noise.

I groan and grab the pillow and hold it over my head, trying, but failing to drown out the children's voices singing "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer," who in my opinion does not have a very shiny nose, but rather one that resembles a faulty light bulb.

The music ceases and I can feel the mattress shift below me as Ashton moves away and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. "Give us ten minutes and we'll be downstairs," he says huskily and I suddenly don't feel as tired as I was before. Four pairs of feet shuffle out of the room and Ashton's weight is completely lifted off the bed as he goes to close the door and twists the lock until it clicks. "That should hold the kids off for a while."

I lift up the blanket and he crawls back next to me, wrapping both arms around me and holding me close. "I don't remember signing up for kids," I joke.

"Neither do I; they just showed up out of nowhere," he says.

"Is there any way we can return them?"

"Not unless we have a receipt."

"I should really learn to save those because now we're stuck with them."

All efforts of getting any more sleep is ruined as we erupt into laughter. More sleep would have been great, but laying here and laughing with Ashton is just as nice.

His eyes flutter open and stay squinted until they adjust to the harsh fluorescent lighting. He brushes his thumb over my cheek and his lip curves up effortlessly as he says, "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you too," I say, pushing his shaggy mess of hair out of his face and smiling at his now visible face.

"Do you think we should get up?" he asks, tangling his legs with mine as if suggesting that he doesn't want to leave the warm bed and a part of me doesn't want to either but I know that everyone downstairs won't stand for that.

I shimmy out of his grasp and sit up, stretching my arms in the air and accidentally hit the side of Ashton's head as he also tries to lift himself up. I stifle a laugh and apologize. "We probably should. You said we'd be down in ten minutes and if we aren't you know as well as I do that they'll march back up here."

"Sometimes I think I should reevaluate my choice of friends," he jokes and pushes himself off the bed and grabs a shirt from the closet.

"I second that."

Other than Ashton putting a shirt on, we stay in our pajamas as does everyone else when we make our way into the living room. However, what I find cute is that Julia and Calum are actually wearing matching red and green plaid pajama bottoms and I have a feeling she coaxed him into wearing them since she's into all the festive holiday clothing. One year, she made me wear one of those ugly Christmas sweaters with a sequined version of Frosty the Snow Man sewn onto it. It was absolutely horrendous, especially when I had to wear it while taking family photos with her parents. At least this year she has a new victim and he actually seems like he's enjoying it.