Lashton Pizza Delivery AU a.k.a. I'm sorry for existing
There’s not much to say. Ashton’s shirtless, Luke delivers pizza. Stay tuned for the next instalment. Hope u like:))
Word count- 1,754
Type- Lashton drabble
Ashton’s stomach swells in a sickening manner as he pushes himself up from the bed, only to collapse back down again five seconds later with a groan. Fuck. He’s really pushed his limits this time. He thanks the lord that Calum somehow managed to navigate them both down the road steaming drunk at 2am, without one or both of them passing out at his doorstep.
The fuzzy-haired boy is nowhere to be seen in his room, and Ashton assumes that he’d just continued to his house a bit further down the street once he’d made a stop here. His eyes move around the bedroom, stopping at the pile of clothes on the floor, beneath which nests a large, mostly empty bottle of vodka. He remembers wielding it- rather violently if he recalls correctly- as they staggered down the street last night. He thinks he might be sick.
His head throbs violently as he claws blindly at the surface of his bedside table for an ibuprofen. He finds an old pack and rips it open desperately with one hand. One topples out into his hand. Score. Popping it into his mouth and grimacing as it falls down his throat like shard of glass, he reaches down and picks up his phone from the floor. It’s conveniently close to the bed, so he doesn’t have to move much more than shuffle slightly to the left, which is good since Ashton never wants to move again. Ever. Also, he’s never drinking again. Ever.
The first notification to catch his attention as he presses the home button is a text from Dominos for some discount. Oooh, pizza. He could seriously do with demolishing a Meatilicous Dominos pizza right now. Well not to demolish…to nibble and try not to fiercely eject from his stomach. Either way, he’s getting one. He doesn’t think it’s going to be physically possible to slide out of bed to the fridge in the state he’s in, and thanks the higher powers for pizza delivery guys. Saints.
Tapping in his home address and number, Ashton selects a pizza with almost every topping under the sun. Today is definitely a ‘go big or go home’ kind of a day. Medium, or Large? Hmm, Large. He sticks out his tongue with concentration whilst filing his order. It’s serious stuff.
Any special instructions? A grin spreads across Ashton’s face as he remembers the guy on the internet who got the pizza lady to bring the pizza right up to his room. He wonders if it’d be a total dick move if he were to do the same. It would be so amazing- like room service in his house. Calum would probably call him a massive twat, but Calum isn’t here experiencing the Worst Hangover Ever, so Ashton’s going to do it.
‘Hello! Am so hungover am finding it hard to move, lol. Could you bring it up to my room, pretty please???? The back door is unlocked and my room is up the stairs, first door on the right. If it makes you uncomfortable, feel free to just ring like a normal person, but I might vomit on you at any moment if I have to move. Drive safe dudes x’ he types, re-reading it twice and cringing at how much of a dick he is when he types. Whatever. Hunger calls.
He places his order and collapses back on the bed, skimming his eyes across the floor for his wallet. There it is. On the other side of the room, peeking out of the back pocket of yesterday’s crumpled jeans. He has forty minutes-ish to get it, so he’s not in a rush, but even the thought of moving from his spot makes Aston want to die. And his room is so warm, and his head is so throb-by and just the thought of pizza just makes him sleepy and he wants a cudddllleee…
Ashton’s eyes snap open and he sees a pair of black converse shuffling around awkwardly in the doorway of his room. What the-
‘Fuck!’ he scrambles up to greet the pizza guy and is reminded all too suddenly of his vicious hangover, as his whole body decides to lurch forward off the bed, and he crashes to the floor at the feet of the delivery guy. ‘Sorry! Sorry.’
‘Fuck, are you okay?’
‘Yeah! Yeah,’ Ashton grimaces, pretending like he’s not about to start dry heaving onto the carpet. This is the most embarrassing this that’s ever happened to him. Instead he gets up with his wallet now in his hand, and smiles at the boy standing in front of him. WHO, by the way, is absolutely fucking gorgeous. Oh, wow, Ashton thinks. All soft blonde hair and pretty blue eyes framed by the curliest lashes he’s ever seen.
‘Have I got the wrong house? You’re Ashton Irwin, right?’ says the boy, dipping his hand into his pocket to retrieve a bit of paper with Ashton’s order on it.
‘No! I mean- yeah, yeah I’m him. You haven’t got the wrong house,’ Ashton smiles. The boy smiles back and Ashton thinks he might’ve gone to heaven. If he’d thought all pizza delivery guys were this damn attractive, he’d be getting pizza every fucking night of the week. He has a lip piercing. ‘So do you deliver pizzas often?’
What, the fuck is he talking about?! Smooth fucking going, Ash. He’s a pizza deliverer. He must never deliver fucking pizzas. He struggles not to slap himself in the face, clutching his hands together tightly as if he’s caught an insect.
‘No, actually. This is like, my first day,’ replies the guy, scratching the back of his neck with a pale hand. He laughs nervously.
‘Oh,’ say’s Ashton, feeling embarrassed, ‘well I’m sorry that I have to be one of your first sights of the job. All hung over and shirtless and…gross.’ Oh god, he actually wants to dive out of the window. The guy laughs though, placing the pizza box down on the bed and waiting for Ashton to retrieve twenty dollars from his wallet. Oh lord, the guy’s teeth are like tiny white shrines and Ashton wants to kiss them more than he wants to eat pizza, right now. Well, maybe about the same- he does seriously want pizza. But he also wants to kiss this guy’s face, so he’s really quite conflicted.
‘You’re not gross, the last people I went to had a really loud, dog. Which was, like, pretty scary. And plus, you look kind of…you look sorta cute when you’re ‘hungover’.’ He motions his fingers like quotation-marks as he says ‘hungover’ and Ashton scoffs. Partly, because the absolute Greek God in front of him just called him cute (like, what?! Is this real life?). But also because how dare he imply that Ashton would lie about being hungover, just so he can have his pizza delivered up to his room?!
‘I am too hungover!’ he protests, fishing a note out of his wallet and handing it to the guy.
‘You look like you’ve just woken from eleven sober hours of sleep and then had an hour of spa treatments! I refuse to believe it.’ This leaves Ashton slightly lost for words, as he didn’t actually expect to engage in flirtatious conversation with someone this gorgeous, this early in the day. Especially not the pizza delivery guy. He’s also flattered because standing here in his boxers, with his hair sticking up in places, and two great bags under his no-doubt very bloodshot eyes- he’s far from cute.
‘T-thanks. You look good, too?’ he attempts back.
‘In my pizza shirt?’ the guy tugs the hem of his red polo shirt and looks up at Ashton, biting his lip. Fuck, Ashton wants him. It’s animalistic and bad that he’s getting like this after not ten minutes of the guy being in the room. But then again he hasn’t gotten off in like three days.
‘What can I say? Men in uniform,’ he retorts back, raising a slightly suggestive eyebrow at the boy in front of him, who now looks has nowhere to go but back to his car. He looks like he’s trying to find a reason to stay and talk, but they both know there is none. They stand for a moment, Ashton in his boxer shorts and the guy pulling at the bottom of his shirt.
‘Well, anyway…I should probably-’ he starts.
‘Do you wanna share this with me?’ Ashton blurts out before the boy can leave. He looks a little startled at the offer and before he can duck his head completely, Ashton notices he’s blushing fiercely. He smiles at the ground and looks up again.
‘Um…I can’t really because I’m working…’
‘Oh, okay,’ says Ashton. He should’ve known that, Jesus. Why did he ask that? He’s such a twat.
‘But do you wanna maybe, like- we don’t have to- but do you want to go for a drink or I dunno, like a Starbucks or something, later?’ asks the guy. He stumbles over his words so adorably that Ashton has to restrain himself from screaming ‘FUCK YES’ at the top of his lungs almost immediately.
‘Yeah, man. That’d be cool, I guess,’ he tries to say nonchalantly, but his voice tilts up threateningly high at the end, and he cringes like there’s no tomorrow.
‘Do you want…my number?’ says the guy.
‘No, like…my actual, personal number?’
Ashton is an absolute mess. Oh lord. Obviously not Dominos number. He’s such a blithering idiot, sometimes.
‘Oh, fuck, right. Yeah. Yes, please.’
‘I’m Luke, by the way.’
‘I’m Ashton- oh fuck, wait, you knew that…’ he says. Luke giggles and tugs at his lip ring with his teeth again. Fuck. Ashton’s vision is hazy and it’s not due to last night’s alcohol intake. He hands Luke his phone and they stand in silence for a few moments while he types in his number.
‘So, I’ll see you tonight, I guess?’ he says, gently putting the phone back in Ashton’s hand.
‘Yeah, I guess you will,’ says Ashton in disbelief, not quite understanding how or why this encounter turned out like it did. Luke huffs a laugh and swings a little on the balls of his feet before backing out of the door, leaving Ashton to his pizza.
He stands still for a moment, and upon hearing the backdoor click shut does a little hop, skip and jump onto his mattress. He grins like a maniac down at his phone screen, where it says ‘Luke:))’ with about six pizza emojis. Luke’s already texted himself with ‘Hey Luke, it’s Luke,’ and Ashton comes to the quick realisation that he’s going on a date with a massive dork. But hey- it’s not even 12 o’clock and he has a cute boy’s number and a pizza. What a fantastic start to the day.