Benches | Mashton AU |

5. Clichés

Dedication: claire_182 for all the sweet comments, for helping me with ideas for this chapter and just being an all round sweet person

"Gaaaah!" Mikayla bursts into the store, jumping wildly around as I watch her in amusement. She dances around, then starts stamping her feet really fast out of pure excitement. She collapses onto the floor, clutching her heart dramatically and then exploding into giggles.

I clear my throat and she jumps up, turning around and her eyes widen when she sees me chuckling, "What- what are you doing here? I told you to not wait up," She stammers, her cheeks going as red as her hair.

"I thought you said you'd be home by eleven," I point at the clock, which says 1:30 and she looks down at her shoes, scuffing them slightly, "S- sorry," she mumbles.

I laugh, "It's okay, I was a teenager once you know." She giggles as she sits on the counter and I lean against it, "How did it go?"

"It was amazing. She's so romantic, I've never met anyone like her. She makes me feel like- like I can't even put it into words," She smiles as she hugs herself and bites her lip, a lovesick smile threatening to make its way onto her face.

She looks at me expectantly. "What?" I chuckle.

"Oh. Nothing. Just. I was expecting you to be like 'that reminds me of Michael' and launch into some big ass story about him" She raises an eyebrow, "It's kinda a cliché, actually,"

October 15th 2015

54 years and 213 days ago

10 years and 93 days before

My tears wet the page as I close the book. I rub my puffy eyes as Michael bursts into the room, "Hey Ash! I let myself in, hope you don't-" He sees me and in 0.5 seconds he's curled up in the bed lying next to me, his hands on my waist as he brings me closer to him.

"What's wrong?" He whispers. With my head buried in his chest, I show Michael my copy of Paper Towns.

"I don't know why I read it. When I read TFIOS I cried for, like, two hours straight," I sigh, "I hate John Green,"

"I thought he was your favourite author," Michael chuckles.

I pull away from him, "You don't understand," He wipes my tears from my cheeks, then grabs the book and quickly skims through the last chapter, the raises an eyebrow at me questioningly. "I know." I say, "It's not that sad. It's just so perfect,"

"You're perfect too, Dimples," he looks at our intertwined hands, playing with my much larger fingers before looking up at me, biting his lip.

Suddenly I jump out of the bed, "We are going to go on a cliché date. Right now,"

I drag him out of bed, as he groans "Ashton Fletcher Clifford, that is literally such a gay idea,"

I look at him curiously as we walk through the closed store, "Did you just call me Clifford?"

He grins, "Sorry. I shouldn't have presumed anything. You might want to keep your own name," he winks, patting my bum softly as I roll my eyes playfully.

* * * * *

Michael groans as he sees where we are. "Fuck you and this shit," He mumbles as we walk inside.

"I said cliché. This is as cliché as it gets," I retort as Michael goes to pay for admission, but I beat him to it, "I asked you out, I'm paying, Gordon,"

He rolls his eyes as he collects his ice skates. I grin, wrapping my arm around his shoulders and kissing him lightly on the cheek. His frown instantly turns into a sheepish smile and his cheeks turn red.

He bends down and helps me tie my laces. He takes my hand as he helps me stand up and supports me as I wobble around on the ice skates. I grin at him as someone yells out, "Hey Mikey! Long time no see!"

Michael blushes again as he waves quickly at the man, who I notice is the only one wearing a suit, so I assume he's the manager or something. "How do you know him?" I ask curiously

"Oh." He blushes yet again, his whole face turning a deep red, but tells me casually "Don't tell anyone but I used to be, like, an ice skater when I was a kid and compete and stuff,"

I stop walking before we enter the ice rink, laughing, "You're joking,"

He grins at me cheekily before entering the ice rink, "Watch this," and suddenly he's gracefully and speedily skating. When he passes me he winks before spinning in the air, landing perfectly. I watch in awe as he glides, spinning around in circles.

He stops beside the entrance, skidding to a halt skilfully. He offers me his hand, "What're you waiting for?"

I step shakily onto the rink. Instantly, one of my legs slide forward and I stagger a little, almost falling as I cling to Michael. "I have the sudden feeling this wasn't such a good idea," I tell him shakily.

He laughs and teases, "You scared, Dimples?"

"N-no," I tell him as I unsuccessfully try to skate by myself and end up falling on my but. Wow, not only does it really hurt, but it's absolutely freezing, not to mention humiliating.

Michael chuckles as he helps me up, and skates with me very slowly as I lean on him. "Don't worry, I was even worse than you when I started," he tells me. I smile at him appreciatively. He continues, "Of course, I was four."

* * * * *

"Ow, my butt really hurts," I whine as I rub my sore spot. I look at Michael and see the mischivous glint in his eye. "Don't you dare make any sexual jokes, Clifford,"

He raises his hands in defence, "Me? Why would you think I'd do that?"

I giggle as he swings our held hands between us, a large smile making its way across his face. I roll my eyes as I see where he's taking us, and he chuckles. "Does every date have to end at this goddamn bench?" I question as he sits down.

I sit beside him and he pulls me closer by my waist, until I scoff and sit on his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck. He kisses my nose sweetly and laughs when I scrunch it up, "Trust me, one day when you're old and grey you'll love this goddamn bench,"

I shrug my shoulders, "Maybe. Maybe I'll tell my grandchildren about the weird guy with the strange hair,"

"Maybe you won't have to, because I'll be right beside you, and I'll tell our grandchildren about the giggly and grumpy guy who stole my heart,"

He kisses me softly, his lips a little chapped from the cold but I still feel fireworks. I pull back breathlessly, "We can't think about growing old together. We still barely know each other,"

He pecks each cheek, then gives me a chaste kiss before leaning our foreheads together and cupping my face, rubbing his thumb against my cheek as I play with his hair softly. He whispers, "We have the rest of our lives, Dimples,"

[A/N]: Hi! So what did you think? If you're getting bored, please hang in there because I promise I have some (hopefully unexpected) plot twists up my sleeve. Thanks for the votes, reads and comments! Please continue, because I love reading all your comments.

-Cece 🍃

P.S. I was thinking about another fanfic? Would anyone read it?