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by mailixrose

by mailixrose

cookout

Calum: "Okay so this is basically like a barbecue?" Calum said, looking around at all your family and friends. His eyes scanned from a group of people dancing in one spot to a few of your family members grilling about. "Yeah it is when you really think about it," you laughed, head bobbing along to the music as you watched Calum watching everyone else. "So why call it a cookout?" Calum questioned, graciously accepting the Styrofoam bowl full of banana pudding from your mom. "Depending on what region you live in the word changes," your mom answered. Calum's eyebrows rose up as he nodded at her words. That made a lot of sense it was like the "pop" vs. "soda" debacle. Depending on where you grew up phrases and words meant different things.

Ashton: You laughed in amusement watching your cousins teach Ashton some new dance move that was circulating around social media. It wasn't like Ashton couldn't dance, but according to your cousins he needed work with his dancing. "See don't let Y/N teach you these moves the only one she seemed to get right was the chicken head," your cousin told Ashton. You rolled your eyes at his words, but smiled at Ashton when he turned around to grin at you. "I think I'm getting the hang of it," Ashton said, breaking away from the group to come sit by your side. Ashton's arm came up to wrap around your shoulder and he pulled you closer to kiss your cheek. '"I'm surprised they haven't worn you out yet," you muttered, still a bit upset at all the bad dancing jokes they had been throwing at you.

Michael: "Cold spaghetti!" Michael exclaimed in happiness, his chest pressing up against your back as he reached around you to grab the spoon for it. "I didn't know you liked that so much," you chuckled, grabbing a piece of catfish for your own plate. "Cold spaghetti is amazing and great when you don't have a microwave," Michael said. He stopped in track making you look back at him in confusion. "What's that?" Michael questioned, pointing towards something that was fried. Nearly everyone that came up to the table was grabbing it and Michael was curious to try, but didn't exactly know what it was. You glanced away from your plate to look at Michael and then at the food. "Fried okra," you mumbled in monotone, eyes already locked on the dessert table. Michael stared at it for a few seconds before scooping up a handful. Before he could even reach for something else you yanked him towards the dessert table before it was all gone.

Luke: He was sitting down on the ground with the rest of the kids. Legs crossed over the other perfectly and hands clasped together. "Duck, duck, duck-" your sister's hand rested over Luke's head as she thought about whether she wanted to say duck or goose. "Duck," she said, hand lightly tapping over Luke's head. He let out a groan at her words. Luke was getting antsy sitting on the ground waiting for one of them to finally tag him as goose. "Well ain't that cute," your uncle commented, coming up from behind you. "You might think it's cute but I know Luke's just using that game as an excuse to avoid being grilled by y'all," you laughed, sending a wave in Luke's direction when his eyes landed on you. "We'll scare him before the night is up there's no escaping it," one of your other uncles said. You let out a shaky breath at their words knowing what they were saying was half true.