Dynasty Decapitated

I Got A Secret Fan, Imagine That My Man

((Title from Dreamers by AWOLNATION

-Mel)) 

Calum grabs two plates from the cabinet and slams it shut as angrily as possible. “He's so infuriating!”

Ashton hums from where he's at the stove, stirring noodles while half listening to Calum. He's got an amused little smile on his face, so Calum doesn't think he's actually paying attention.

“He just killed three people and left them there!” Calum slams the plates on the table as forcefully as he dares. “I had to cover for him, do you know how much paperwork police reports are? Fuck, and if we get caught? Major jail time and I lose all my public interest. It's not like Michael has anything to lose!”

“Mhm,” Ashton says.

Calum stalks back over to the cabinets and rips two glasses out. “I mean, I could have just left those guys up there, but their families should know. Does Michael care about their families? No, he only cares about himself!”

“I'm sure,” Ashton mumbles distantly.

Calum slams the glasses on the table alongside the plates. “Honestly! And he threw one of them off the roof for no fucking reason! Do you want milk or water? Sometimes I just wish I could see what he's thinking in that tiny twisted brain of his!”

“Milk,” Ashton replies gently. Calum scowls and stalks over to the fridge to pull out the milk.

“He keeps asking about you, too,” Calum pours the milk carefully, but somehow still angrily. He fills both glasses up while continuing. “He thinks you're going to leave me for him and Luke.” Ashton hums distantly again, so Calum glances over at him. “You wouldn't, would you?”

“What?” Ashton flicks the stove off without turning around.

“Leave me for Luke and Michael,” Calum throws the door to the fridge open and throws the milk back inside.

Ashton considers it for a second, tilting his head side to side while he continues boiling the noodles over the cooling stove top. Eventually, he shakes his head. “Nah. If I was going to leave you, I'd probably go for someone like Johnny Depp or maybe Emma Stone. I'd like to think my standards are higher than a loser in spandex with the attention span of a gnat.”

Calum blinks for a second, watching as Ashton turns with the end of the pot in his hand to dump the noodles through the strainer over the sink. When he's finished, he sets the pot back on the stove and glances at Calum.

“I’m still talking about Michael,” he clarifies.

“I- yeah, thanks. For clearing that up, I- you lost me on the loser in spandex part,”

Ashton waves his hand dismissively and reaches for the pad of butter. “I mean, yeah, but at least your ass looks nice in the spandex.” He pauses again, before tacking on, “Actually, Michael's-”

“Stop, don't tell me about his ass,” Calum cuts him off quickly, shaking his head. Michael's ass isn't bad, they're just about to eat.

Ashton grins at that and holds his arm up, patiently waiting until Calum tucks himself under it. When he does, Ashton reels him in and presses a soft kiss to his temple. “Are you done complaining?”

“No, but I'll reign it in for now,” Calum reasons. Ashton gives him a short disapproving look, one eyebrow raised curiously, but doesn't mention it any further. Calum twists out of his grip and falls into his chair at their small table, huffing softly.

Ashton rolls his eyes as he grabs the pot off the stove again. “Anyway, next conversation piece,” he sits himself in the chair across from Calum, sets the pot down, and snatches the spoon up before Calum can reach for it. “I'm pretty sure our jobs are going to overlap at some point, so, there's that.”