1. Baby Steps

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"I got all my cooking skills from Dad, isn't that right?" She calls from the kitchen. I hum in response. The woman, my daughter, Kate, found me on the bench and took me home, and she's been fussing over me ever since. She hands me a plate of vegemite toast and I smile widely at her, "My favourite,"

She returns the smile sadly as she sits down on the couch opposite my armchair, a cup of coffee in her hands. I munch my toast as she softly pats the curly head of her 5 year old son lying asleep beside her, and scolds the teenager on her other side, "Mikayla, stop biting your nails! It's bad enough you dye your hair without your nails falling out too!"

"My hair is not falling out, gosh!" She rolls her eyes, playing absent- mindedly with one strand of her pink locks. Kate rolls her eyes, scowling. "Honestly, you'll be bald when you're thirty!"I watch them bickering, amused, until I chime in, "I like your hair. It reminda me of someone I used to know," They both turn to me in surprise, and I continue, "His name was Michael. He died his hair a lot, until it started falling out," Mikayla chuckles and asks encouragingly, "What was he like?"

October 4th 2015

54 years and 203 days ago

10 years and 103 days before

My breath makes a cloud of steam as I wait patiently, freezing my butt off, on the cold bench. I look left and right, my gloved hands stuck in my pockets. I'm shaking from the cold and, just as I decide to leave, I see a purple head in the distance. I sit back down, and hide behind my paperback.

For the past couple of weeks we've both came to the bench at about 6:30, and stayed until the sun went down, without saying a word to each other. Sometimes one of us would be late, and we'd rush to the bench, and then smile apolegitically at the other, as if we had actually missed a set appointment.

Well, I say one of us. I was never late, it was always the mesmirising boy I can't wait to see everyday.

He sat down beside me, smiling at me apologetically. We stayed in silence for a while, the only sound was his heavy breathing from running, and me shivering from the cold. I pretended to read, and he pretended to listen to music, as if we hadn't even noticed each other, although I could see he was staring at me even more than I looked at him.

I sniffled, wrapping my scarf tighter around me. He sighed heavily, "You know what, fúck this," I turned to him quickly, my eyes wide. Not only was this the first time I had heard him speak, but his voice was really sexy.

 "H- Hey, d-don't swear," I told him, my teeth chattering as I closed my book.

He raised his eyebrow and smirked, but said as he held out his hand, "Michael Clifford, and I've been trying to come up with the perfect way to start talking to you for three weeks,"

I shook his head, grinning, "Ashton Irwin, and I've been pretending to read this book so I seem smarter than I really am,"

He laughed, and I giggled, asking, "Was 'fúck this' really the best you could do after three weeks?"

"You do realise that you were reading that book upside down?"

"Touché" I laughed, as we got up, our butts freezing from the bench.

He scratched the back of his neck, "You- em- wanna go to my place?"

I smirked at him, walking off. I called over my shoulder, "Baby steps, Clifford,"

January 6th 2019

51 years and 109 days ago

7 years and 7 days before

"Ashton, he's gonna do it! Come on, Henry!, come to Daddy!" Michael almost shrieks as we watch the one year old in anticipation, both of us on the ground, kneeling down to his height. Michael turns to our daughter for a brief moment, afraid to miss anything, "Are you getting this?" he asks her sternly.

"Dad I'm eight I know how to film baby steps, gosh!" Olivia rolls her eyes.Henry toddles slowly, holding onto the edge of the couch. Michael opens his arms wider, saying, "Come on, you can do it! Come to Dada!" And then, Henry lets go, and he takes a shaky step forward, unsupported. We hold our breaths as he takes a few uncertain steps, before falling into Michael's arms.

I smile broadly as Michael lifts Henry in his arms, spinning our beautiful boy around in his arms. I watch them proudly, an arm around Olivia's shoulders. We smile at each other, then look fondly back at my husband and son. I walk over to them, giving both of them a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Okay, now that's over, it's time to turn your attention to your daughter," Olivia announces, while me and Michael roll our eyes.

I chuckle, saying, "Michael, help her with whatever she needs,"

"Noo!" She whines, "I want you to help me pick an outfit for the school dance! Dad sucks at outfits," She looks up at me with her big green eyes, pouting, "Please, Pops."

I chuckle, sending a smug grin to Michael and tell the small girl, "You pick out a few choices, and I'll help you in a minute,"

Me and Michael look at each other as she skips out of the room, singing. Michael looks at the baby in his arms, then shushes me. We slowly tip toe into the nursery, careful not to make a sound. Michael lowers the sleeping child into his crib.

He gives me a quick kiss, tangling his hands into my still curly hair. I place my hands onto his hip, burying my face into the crook of his neck as he rests his chin on the top of my head. We stand quietly together, glad of these few moments.

He spoke softly, "You know, his first steps are a good metaphor for our relationship."

I pull back, grinning cheekily, "What? Really shaky?"

He smacked my arm playfully, "No, I meant heading towards greater things,"

I nod slowly,pretending to think it over, "Oh. Since when did you use metaphors, Clifford?"

"I don't. I googled it."

[A/N]: I hope that made sense. It went to a second memory, and I gave the date in bold. I hope I didn't give too much away by saying that they end up together bc it's a Mashton fanfic, you know it's gonna happen anyway.

Thanks so much for the votes and comments! Love you lots like jelly tots! x

-Cece


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