Us. | A Joe Jonas FanFiction | Book 3

twenty six.

"Ahh!" I exhale, plopping myself down on the couch.

"Home sweet home," Joe grins, dropping our bags near the door and walking over, plopping down next to me.

I swing my legs to the side, letting them lay overtop his thighs, leaning my head back, and taking a few deep breaths.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks after a moment.

"All the laundry I need to do," I admit immediately.

He laughs, massaging my calves for a moment before tapping them lightly. "I'll make dinner if you start the laundry."

"We don't have any food in the house, I have to go shopping tomorrow." I give him a look.

He licks his lips. "I'll go back out and pick up dinner if you start the laundry."

I laugh, nodding. "That works."

He lightly pushes my legs, forcing me to get up from the couch and lug the suitcases to the laundry room.

Bending to open the first suitcase, Joe's hands grab my hips from behind, making me stand back up and glance over my shoulder at him.

"Yes?"

"Thai?" he asks, grinning.

I roll my eyes, nodding. "Sure."

He laughs lightly, tapping my ass before walking away, throwing an 'I love you' over his shoulder. I throw an 'I love you' back and open the suitcase, beginning the first load, hearing him leave as I do so.

I allow my feet to carry me to the kitchen, creating two place settings and making a large glass of water for myself, gulping half of it down quickly. The bedroom is my next stop, stripping from my travel leggings and tee and jumping in the shower. Once out, I complete the routine by throwing on pajama short shorts and one of Joe's tees, washing my face, and running a comb through my hair, leaving it down to air dry.

By the time I arrive back downstairs, the front door opens, Joe walking into the kitchen right after me.

"You showered without me," he says, pouting.

"I felt gross," I tell him, scrunching my face.

He laughs, taking the food out of the to-go bag and setting it at each of our place settings.

"Thank you," I grin, kissing him before sitting at my seat across from him. "It smells so good."

We begin eating and Joe begins to chat about what all we need to get done while we're home for the holidays, plans to visit my family as well as do the typical with him. My stomach, however, begins to churn only a few bites into my dinner. I look down at my plate, my eyes furrowing in confusion. This has never made me sick before. It's the same thing I've always gotten.

"What's wrong?" Joe asks, picking up on my hesitation.

"I don't know. I'm really nauseous all of a sudden," I explain, pushing the plate away slightly and turning my head, the sight and smell beginning to enhance the churning in my stomach.

He moves the plate further from me, gulping down his bite and holding my hand that sits on the table casually. "Go upstairs baby, go lay down. I'm gonna quickly finish mine and then I'll be up, and we can go to bed. It might just be the exhaustion catching up to you. You're not used to all the travel and stuff."

"But I wanted to sit and eat with you."

"There's no point in eating if it's just going to make you sick," he tells me, rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb. "It's okay, I'll be up soon, I promise."