A C T O R S || OS

76. Chris Evans | Missing You *

By : youlightmeupfinn | Tumblr 

request: Hiii! I just want to request some angst but like the reader is a lawyer (like Amal Clooney) and is married to Chris. Then she's like busy all the time and Chris felt like he's being neglected by his wife then they got into an argument then Chris was just like "I want my wife home even just for once" and then the reader makes it up to him and all that. Can u also end it in fluff? Thank youuuuuu!

warnings: angst turns into fluff, brief mention of smut

summary: Getting yourself so caught up in your job, you discover you've neglected your husband. Chris wants his wife, not the lawyer.

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Chris watched as you hurried around yours and his Boston home, pouring your coffee into your thermos, bouncing back and forth as you gathered last-minute items. With a silent stare, you captivated his entire field of vision and he couldn't help but push a heavy sigh from between his lips. A pair of lips that knew the touch of yours, but also felt neglected.

"Also, whatever you want to do for dinner tonight, is fine. I'm not even sure what time I'm going to be home," You told him quickly.

Of course.

Chris had been married to you for nearly two years now. When he crossed paths with you, you immediately told him you lived a busy lifestyle as one of the best female lawyers in Boston. He wouldn't dare argue the fact, you were good at what you did.

But it also hurt when he couldn't have you to himself. Of course, Chris led a busy lifestyle too. He was dabbling in politics now, while still filming, he was a busy man. But he was also your husband. He tried so hard to make things easier for the two of you, however, when he wasn't busy, you were slammed. Needless to say, you were a workaholic.

Grabbing the keys to the convertible parked out front, you walked over and draped your arms lazily over Chris' shoulders, pressing your lips to his cheek.

Not even to his lips.

His cheek.

"Love you," You said in a rush, your heels clicking. Chris watched as you disappeared from the home and climbed into the fancy car. Moments later he could hear the engine as it raced down your neighborhood street.

"Love you, too." Chris finally muttered to the empty house.

As his day progressed, more hurt crossed his features. Once he made it home from his workday, he checked the time and noted it was nearing six o'clock. You said you would be late, it didn't matter what you two did for dinner, but again, you would be late.

That was the problem. You couldn't ever stop working. Chris knew how you would get if your hands were constantly doing something or if your mind wasn't wrapped around various cases.

But that didn't matter. He wanted Y/N Evans, his wife. Not Y/N Evans, the lawyer.

When you finally came through the front door, it was almost seven-thirty. You immediately held a face of pure exhaustion and a headache pounding the back of your brain. Chris was seated at the bar inside of your kitchen, a beer in his hand, take-out boxes on the counter.

"Hi, sweetheart." You called out to him, tossing your things onto the marble counter. He didn't say anything, instead, his blue eyes were glued to the glass bottle, not bothering to look at you.

Grabbing a fork from the drawer, you retrieved yourself a wine glass, soon pouring your favorite into it. Opening the box of Chinese, you twirled your fork around the noodles and brought it to your mouth.