A/n- I always wanted a treehouse
Michael: “Don’t forget about me while you’re away, okay?” you tell Michael, shifting around in your sleeping bag. It was his last night at home before he left for a tour in Europe, so you had decided to sleep in his old treehouse just to bring back memories from your childhood. “You tell me that every time I go away for tour,” Michael laughs, turning on his side to look at you. “I could never forget my best friend.” “Well you never know,” you defend, burrowing your face into your pillow. “You guys get more and more famous with each tour; before you know it, you’ll end up as the next All Time Low or something!” you exclaim, wincing when you realized how loud your voice was. “That would be amazing,” Mikey sighs, attempting to shake away the sleepiness that was creeping up on him. “Michael Clifford from 5 Seconds of Summer, the internationally famous band.” “You’ll always just be Mikey, my best friend, to me,” you whisper, smiling at him sadly. “That’s all I’ll ever need.”
Calum: ”Babe, I don’t know if you’re doing it right…” you trail off, staring at it with a puzzled look on your face. Calum was currently building a treehouse for Jake and Penelope, your two kids, the backyard cluttered with various tools and pieces of wood, the cardboard box toppled over on the patio with your daughter coloring on the direction sheet. “I think mummy’s right, daddy,” Jake states, running over to your side and grabbing the glass of apple juice you offered to him. Him and Calum had been busy building the whole day with you and Penelope supervising. “It doesn’t look like the picture on the box.” “Then maybe the box is wrong,” Calum mutters, looking over the half-finished treehouse. “Maybe if you actually read the directions…” you trailed off, chuckling as you saw Penelope glance up from her coloring. “We don’t need directions,” Calum retorts, rolling his eyes as he gets back to work. “C’mon Jake, help me out.”
Ashton: “No girls allowed!” Ashton yelled down from the treehouse, making you roll your eyes as you heard him and the other boys giggling. “Ashton, get down here!” you yell back, throwing a football through the window. “Ow!” he protests, poking his head out. “What the hell was that for?” “Your food’s ready, idiot,” you retort, walking back to the grill on the porch. You heard a bunch of scrambling, watching from your spot and hoping they wouldn’t be stupid enough to push each other when climbing down. Cheering, they grabbed plates and dumped fries on them, pouring ketchup all over them and stood in a line beside you as they eagerly waited for their cheeseburgers. “It’s like I’m dealing with 5 year olds, honestly,” you mutter to yourself, shutting off the grill. While they were preoccupied with their food, you ran up to the treehouse, climbing up the ladder and locking the door. “Noobs!” you yelled out the window, launching a water balloon at them that ended up landing on Ashton’s head.
Luke: ”We should get a picket fence, those are so cute,” you suggest, fiddling with his fingers as your ring reflects the moonlight. “It could be like Up; we put our handprints on the mailbox and go on picnics. But we could actually have kids and we would live happily ever after,” Luke continues, smiling at the image that had formed in his mind. “And a backyard with a huge tree, good enough to a build a treehouse in. For our kids of course, but you know; I’d go in there a couple of times,” you go on, chuckling as he squeezes your hand. “I can’t wait,” Luke whispers, turning his head to look at you, the moon illuminating that one side of his face and capturing his profile beautifully. “A life with you. It’s a dream come true.”