26# You speaks another language/ punk edition
A/n - I speak swedish. yay
Ashton (from France): “This is so sick!” Calum hollers as the car pulls up outside the venue. Ashton nods his head furiously in agreement, a laugh escaping him. Before you know it, your hand is clasped in his and you’re preparing yourself to walk through the mass of fans. The crowd erupts into screams as soon as Luke hops out of the car and it brings smiles to the boys’ faces immediately. They carefully make their way through the crowd, taking their time to talk to the fans and taking pictures with them. You stay back and let them do their thing but you keep a close eye on your boyfriend’s tattooed arms. Seeing the frustrated frown on his face as he talks with a girl, you decide to make your way toward him to see what’s happening. You can easily hear the girl talking excitedly in French but Ashton obviously doesn’t understand what she’s saying. “She’s telling you that you’re her sunshine. Every time she feels down, she looks at videos of you and she feels happy again,” you translate, making him whip around to look at you. “Oh, and she really wants a picture and a follow on Twitter.” Ashton grins widely and with the help of you, he tells her to write down her username on his arm. “Merci! Je t’aime trop. I can’t-“ he turns around, running a hand through his messy hair. “Babe, can you tell her that I can’t wait to play for her tonight?”
Calum (from Germany): “Y/N, I need you to teach me how to speak German.” Calum plops down on the chair beside you. You glance around the airport lounge, trying to figure out if this is something one of the boys has set him up to do. Turning your focus back to your best friend, you take his appearance in. His hair is messy under the snapback and you can tell he was too tired to even attempt to style it. Still he has managed to pull on a pair of black skinny jeans and a maroon colored hoodie. You can vaguely spot some of his tattoos peaking out from behind the tank top he has under. “And why should I?” He nibbles on his new lip ring. “Because I want to talk to the fans when we get there. Now teach me, please.” You sigh, giving in, and ask him what he wants to know. “You know… The basic phrases; I love you, how are you. You know, that sort of thing.” You shrug, going along with it. He nods as you explain and speak the different sentences and he tries to repeat them. “Okay. Awesome. Now how to I say ‘will you go on a date with me?” Your eyes widen in surprise and you can feel yourself furrowing your brows out of surprise. You couldn’t fathom why he’d need to know that phrase. “Werden Sie auf einen Termin mit mir gehen?“ You mumble, your mind still pondering. He nods, lifting his snapback to run a hand through his hair. “Okay, good. Think I got it,” he pauses, turning to look at you. “Y/N, werden Sie auf einen Termin mit mir gehen?”
Luke (from Spain): “Hola, mamá! ¿Cómo estás?” you grin at your mom through the screen. Your mom greets you back in Spanish and you laugh as you hear your dad swear in the background. “We’re good, hon. Your dad is attempting at making dinner,” she winks at you when your dad protests from the kitchen. “How are you? And that boyfriend of yours, has he got any new tattoos?” You glance over at Luke, who’s sitting on the couch with his guitar, and smile to yourself at the sight of him biting his lip in concentration. “No, not yet. I asked him to take a break for now. They look good on him though. Le hacen más atractivo.” Your mom smiles at that and you giggle, realizing what you just told your mom. The two of you eventually finish your conversation after talking about everything and nothing. You’re in the middle of telling your mom about some fans you had talked to the other day when she interrupts you and tells you she’ll call you back admit laughing. When you hear your dad yell frustratingly in the background, you piece two and two together and let your mom hang up. “Luke-“ You call out as you turn around but your cut off almost instantly as you crash into Luke’s firm chest. His hands travels down your sides and you let out a squeal as he hooks them behind your thighs and lifts you up. “You’re so hot when you speak Spanish.” He growls out, already marching toward the bedroom.
Michael (from Italy): “Babe?” Michael strolls into the room, rubbing the back of his neck. You grin at the sight of the plastic wrapped around his fresh tattoo. “Yeah, what’s up, Mikey?” He grins at the nickname and plops down beside you, fishing his phone out of his pocket. You watch him as he goes to the Twitter app and waits for it to load. “Okay, so, you’re Italian, right?” You raise your eyebrows. “Well, yeah, half-Italian.” You shrug, waiting for him to elaborate on his sudden question. “Some fans from Italy had this meet up thing and I want to tweet them and tell them I saw it.” You smile as your boyfriend admits his intention. It amazed you how much the boys cared about their fans. “You know, for someone trying to look all punk rock, you seem awfully soft at the moment.” Michael raises his eyebrows, a smirk forming on his lips. “It’s you and the fans, babe. I can’t help acting soft around you guys.” “And the guys,” you remind him. “I’ve seen you act soft around them too.” Michael sighs, fumbling with the plastic around his arm. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve known them for ages. Of course I care about them. Stop teasing me. Are you going to help me or not?” Laughing, you lean over and take the phone out of his hand. He groans in protest, obviously not wanting you to take his precious phone. “What do you want to tell your fans, Mikey?”