Ashton Irwin Imagines

Dance For Me

"Come on, babe, do the dance for me!"

"No! You think I'm stupid, Irwin? You're making a keek and I am not doing the dance for the whole Internet to see," you laughed, holding your hand over the lens of Ashton's iPhone to obscure the view. Ashton was lying propped against the pillows on your bed, his phone in hand, trying to persuade you to do this stupid dance move that you'd made up somewhere along the way in your relationship, during one of your late night pajama dance parties. Ashton thought it was adorable, but you knew how derpy it made you look and therefore refused to show it to anyone but him.

"Fine, then, just for me?" he pouted.

"Give me the phone," you demanded, trying to be assertive but failing when you let a giggle slip out. You stood with one hand on your hip and the other outstretched as Ashton reluctantly relinquished his device.

"There, happy? Now do it, come on, it's so cute," he laughed, crossing his ankles. You rolled your eyes playfully at him, shaking your head with a smile as you rolled the waistband of your-well, Ashton's-hot dog boxers over one more time so they wouldn't fall down.

"Okay, okay, just let me get in the zone." You made a show of concentrating yourself on preparing the dance, then stuck out your tongue and did the ridiculous head-bop-shimmy-thrust thing that, for whatever reason, Ashton found simply endearing. He burst out into that chuckle of his as you danced around for a few more seconds, before cracking up yourself. You covered your mouth, blushing and laughing, and then leapt onto the bed beside Ashton, swinging one leg over his lap as you straddled him. He met you halfway for a sweet kiss, kissing your lips quickly one, two, three times. You loved his playful side, which seemed to be his default setting; the way he would smile against your mouth and giggle at everything you did made you melt. You bit your lip, leaning back a little and walking your fingers down his chest.

"Whatcha doin, babe?" Ashton asked with a cheeky grin.

"I'm trying-" you kissed him, "-to be sexy. But to be honest,"-kiss-"my thighs really hurt in this position."

"Oh go on then, get off me," Ashton teased, giving your bum a squeeze as you breathed a grateful sigh. "Aaaand dismount," he said as you swung your leg back over and flopped down next to him, tucking yourself into the curvature of his body as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You rested your head in the hollow of his shoulder and breathed in his familiar smell, toying with the fabric of his sweater.

"I like this one on you," you said, tilting your head to look up at him. It was the one you had got him for Christmas, a heavy and soft pullover that was perfect for chilly nights like this one. He looked so cute and cozy in it, but he knew it turned you on when he left the quarter-zip undone and exposed the top of his chest, which was probably why he always claimed the zipper was faulty.

"Someone really hot gave it to me," he responded, pulling your finger and making a fart noise with his tongue. God, he was such a boy.

"Oh yeah? She must have great fashion sense."

"Mmm, great legs too," Ashton mumbled, resting his head on the fluffy pillow as his arm traveled down your bare thigh. "Her feet are a little smelly, but nobody's perfect."

"Hey!" you smacked his chest, then wrapped your arm around his torso, tucking it under his back where it was warm.

"I like this sweater too," Ashton shifted a little, pressing a kiss to your temple and making a face when a couple strands of your hair stuck to his lip. "And I like you, and your weird-ass dance."

"Good!" You grinned, sitting up suddenly and pulling Ashton to his feet. "Because I'm going to teach it to you."