baby, I'll show you the world [muke af]

epilogue

epilogue

nine years later

Calum straddled Ashton's thighs, putting his hand on the bloated belly. "Love me!" He shouted at the stretched skin.

Ashton looked up from the magazine in his hand. "He hates you, leave him alone."

After fourteen years since the twins' birth, baby number three was finally on the way. This time, though, there was a nice golden ring on their fingers.

"The girls always kicked for me. Why won't he?"

Ash put down his magazine, throwing it to their messy bedside table. "Because he knows you're old and ugly."

"You're older and uglier," Calum shot back. He rolled off of his husband, falling to his side and resting his head on Ash's chest.

Ashton flicked him, "Don't be a shitbag, please."

"I love you."

"Tell me I'm beautiful."

Calum took Ash's hand, kissing each of his fingertips. "You're the most beautiful boy I've ever laid eyes on."

"Good."

Michael pulled Mel closer, wrapping his arm around them. "Do you know where any of your siblings went?"

"Probably being stupid," the nine-year-old responded.

Mike reached out his hand, high-fiving them. "Nice one."

Luke walked past the living room, carrying the newborn in his hands. "He tried to pee on me again," he whined.

"Good!" Michael yelled over the roar of the television.

"I hate you so, so much."

Mike rolled his eyes and leant into Mel, "He's the one that wanted five kids, just saying."

"That's so gross," the eldest (by fifteen minutes) responded.

Amanda walked into the room next, her hair dripping blue dye. "I messed up." She wrapped a towel around her head agin, wringing out the long strands.

Luke walked past once more—except with more paper towels. He paused in the doorway. "Michael?! Why did you let a nine-year-old dye their hair? By themselves?!"

"She said she could do it!" He responded.

He rolled his eyes, his head spinning with commotion. "I hate you."

"You already said that one!" Mike called after his husband as he headed back upstairs, the baby in his hands, most likely peeing over Luke again.

Lu and Vanny were sound asleep, something the others should be. It was a school night, yet Michael was home. Luke let the kids stay up later when Michael was home, letting them spend all the time they wanted with their other father.

"Is he always like this?" Michael asked Mel and Amanda.
Amanda sat down next to her father, trying not to drip dye on the nice furniture. "Usually."

"Amazing," Mike said, stars in his eyes.

"You should see him when Vanny refuses to go to school," Mel added. They picked at their pajamas bottoms, their lanky legs—thanks to Luke—already outgrowing the material.

"Why does she refuse so often?"

"Do you remember school?" Amanda asked, her green eyes focused upon the TV screen in front of them.

"True," he responded, "True, true, true." He turned back to the television, tapping his fingers on Mel's shoulder. "Do you go to school?"

"No," Mel responded.

"Why?"

"I had this teacher who refused to use my proper pronouns," they said, "Also I punched a boy in Lu's honor."

Michael tried to hide the fact that he was breaking out in laughter. "Oh, God. Don't tell your father I'm encouraging you."

"Never," they responded, a smile rising up on their cheeks.

"You do realize you have to go to school, though, right? Like, you can drop out at sixteen or whatever, but you're, like, nine."

"Am I really?" Mel asked, debating it. "Oh, you're right."

"I'm always right, don't doubt your favorite father."

Mel turned towards him, their green eyes matching. "Who said you were my favorite?"

Mike put a hand to his chest, faking offense. "You know what? I won't buy your Copics anymore. Have fun going to normal school and normal college."

"Dad!" They whined, knowing he was kidding.

Mike leant in, kissing their forehead. He then leant to the left, kissing the top of Amanda's forehead, too. "Let's get you guys to bed. You're both going to school tomorrow," he said, making it clear to Mel that they would be forced.

They gladly gave their father the middle finger because, after all, they were a Clifford.

The following day, Michael did indeed walk his four favorites into school. He made sure their teachers would use his children's preferred pronouns because that's fucking respectful and you don't fucking choose what their pronouns are, you garbage.

THE END

(a/n) TO THE END OF AN ERA. 

I LOVE YOU ALL. 

THANKS TO YOU BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE FOR KEEPING THIS GOING. I WOULDN'T HAVE MADE IT THROUGH WITHOUT YOU. 

I LOVE YOU.