5SOS Preferences

No Sleep . . .

OMG the Ashton one is terrible, I'm sorry :/ Oh, before I forget, could you guys maybe comment ideas/themes for more preferences please? Sorry about not updaitng in a while (we were on vacation) but thanks for more than 4K reads and 100 votes <3 We love you x

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Calum:

The second you wake up, you turn over to find the other half of your bed empty; no wonder you barely slept last night, Calum wasn't even sleeping beside you. You sit up slowly, swearing quietly as you remember exactly what happened last night - you and Calum got into a pretty heated argument, exchanging words that neither one of you meant before you threw him a blanket, telling him to sleep on the couch instead of next to you. Normally you would have just left the room to allow yourself time to cool down, but last night you hadn't even given Calum opportunities to respond before you reacted, leaving him to sleep on the couch. Pulling yourself up off of the bed, you make your way downstairs where you find Calum wrapped in a blanket on the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. Not sure where to begin, you start with a simple, "I'm sorry."

The sound of your voice draws Calum's eyes to yours as he props himself up. "No, no, babe, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything that I said last night, I can't even remember why we were fighting."

Smiling softly, you perch on the edge of the couch. "It was because-"

Calum covers your mouth with his hand. "Don't bring it up again," he instructs, and you can't help but laugh.

"I didn't mean anything I said, either," you tell him. "And I'm sorry for making you sleep out here - that was the worst night's sleep of my life."

Calum chuckles and pulls you towards him, the words spoken last night erased from memory.

•

Ashton: (his POV)

I can't sleep. I can't sleep when tomorrow is just hours away, when the little velvet box is hidden in my bag less than a metre away from the bed. Y/N is lying next to me, asleep, completely unaware of what tomorrow will bring. This isn't the first time I've kept myself awake with thoughts of proposing to her - it's not so much that I'm dreading it, just that I'm scared that she'll say no, or that I'll mess up my speech, or that something will go wrong. There's an infinite list of things that could go wrong, but the boys have been helping me to plan this for so long that hopefully there's not much room for error.

I feel the sheets shift as beside me, Y\N turns over so that she's now facing me. It takes a second for me to notice that her eyes are open, and are fixed firmly on me. "Why are you still awake?" She asks me, her voice giving away how tired she is.

"I could ask you the same thing," I laugh. She smiles, but she's still looking at me expectantly, waiting for an answer to her question. "I was thinking," I tell her.

"No, you were over-thinking," she corrects me. "There's a difference. Get some sleep, Irwin."

"As you wish," I smile, wrapping my arms around her and closing my eyes. Maybe she's right about the over-thinking thing; I shouldn't be worrying about what could go wrong, as long as I'm sure I'm proposing to the right person, and I don't have a single doubt in my mind about that.

•

Luke:

You open one eye to the sound of your four-month-old daughter screaming at the top of her lungs - again. Groaning, you roll onto your side to glance at the digital clock next to your bed: it's 4AM. Great. You only managed to get to sleep two hours ago. Regardless of the fact that you haven't slept in weeks, you know that one of you should go and check on your daughter, and you don't want to have to wake Luke up. Sure, he's had more sleep than you have lately, but he's only recently returned from tour and you know that he's missed his own bed and being able to lie in in the mornings, so you don't want to wake him up. As quietly as you can, you slip out from under the covers and start towards the door, mentally swearing as the door creaks open.

"Babe?" You turn around to find your husband, Luke, sitting up, tufts of blonde hair sticking up in random places and his eyes barely open. "Come back to bed."

At that moment, your daughter's screaming increases in volume, and as much as you want to return to bed, you know that you can't. Not when your daughter needs you. "I can't, Luke, she's crying again."

Luke opens his eyes before tumbling clumsily out of bed and making his way over to you. "Babe, you've barely been sleeping lately - I'll get her, you go back to bed," he whispers gently, arms wrapped around you as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

"Fine," you agree eventually, grateful to have Luke. You smile as he wanders out of the room and you collapse on your bed, overcome with relief when the screaming ceases a moment later and you can finally get some sleep.

•

Michael:

Your alarm beeps for the third time, and you groan, reaching your arms out to silence the alarm out before opening your eyes. Michael's arm is strewn across your body protectively, his hair messier than you've ever seen it, and a smirk plastered across his face even as he sleeps. You find yourself smirking too, as you think about the events of last night. For a moment, you can't remember if it was real or a dream - that is, until you remember that you only got a couple of hours of sleep, and notice the clothes the two of you wore yesterday scattered around the room. Yet another alarm starts up suddenly, reminding you that you have work today - in fifteen minutes, actually - and you hastily swing your legs over the side of the bed. You hurry towards the bathroom and hop into the shower before returning to the bedroom five minutes later to find clothes for work.

"Sleep well?" Michael asks sleepily, and you smirk.

"Not really," you answer. "Someone was keeping me up."

You rummage through the hangers in your wardrobe before glancing back at Michael quickly. Like you, he's smirking, now sitting on the edge of the bed. "I bet whoever it was is hot," he remarks, and you stifle a laugh.

"Not really," you reply, trying not to laugh. "Not very memorable, either."

Suddenly, you feel warm breath on your neck and Michael's hands find your hips. "Wrong answer," he whispers before handing you your phone. You raise an eyebrow at him, confused. "Call in sick," he instructs you. "If you really think I wasn't memorable, Y\N, then I guess I'll just have to remind you."