so baby, make me fly

There are a lot of things to love about dating Taylor Swift - her goofy laugh, that thing she does with her tongue, the way she took care of you when you had the flu that one time, her wine collection, hearing her new music before anyone else - but tonight, the best thing about dating Taylor Swift is skipping the notoriously terrible post-Coachella traffic back to LA.

You both sit in comfortable silence as your car leaves the venue for the airport, taking a minute to come down from the frenzied festival energy and enjoy the quiet. It's nice, getting a moment to just be together after the demands of the day.

Taylor stares out the window at passing cars and people as you drive down the road, the glow of headlights occasionally illuminating her face every so often. Each time they do, you can see the soft smile on her face.

"Hey," you thread your fingers through hers and squeeze her hand. "Did you have fun today?"

Taylor turns from the window to look at you, still smiling, but it's a bit hazy, like she's maybe still a little bit buzzed from drinks and other substances enjoyed over the course of the festival.

"Yeah, babe. It was fucking awesome." Taylor's voice is raspy and low in the quiet of the car after the day spent screaming along with the shows. "I missed being out like that. You had fun too, right?"

"A ton. It was good to see Jack and the guys, be out and about. But it's nice to be just us, you know?"

Coachella was always a good time, but eventually the press of the crowd and the thousands of cameras on you got old. Taylor loved it, and you didn't mind it most of the time. But tonight... with her backwards baseball cap, leather jacket, and that skirt with that fucking garter belt, she looked hot enough that public restraint was a struggle. It was a constant distraction. Dancing with her all night without slipping your hands under her skirt had been torture. A little privacy is more than welcome. Fortunately, there's privacy and just enough time on the drive from the festival to the Palm Springs airport to fool around.

"Just us can be fun too," you slip your hand from her grip and reach over to play with the garter belt you've been thinking about most of the night, still digging into the top of her thigh.

"You really like that garter, huh?" You'd told her how hot it was when she was getting ready earlier in the day, but you didn't expect to become quite this fixated on it. Taylor bites her lip and smirks over at you. The stupidly hot backwards cap makes her look like a smug bro.

"Mhm," you hum in agreement and slide your fingers under the garter, tugging lightly at it. "The hat, too. I had no idea 'hot frat guy in a miniskirt' would do it for me like this."

Taylor leans back in her seat, spreading her legs and shifting to face you just a bit better. The manspreading and her cocky grin only add to the frat bro look. "You think I'm hot?"

"Please," you scoff and roll your eyes with affection. "You know you're hot. I spent half the night wondering if I could get away with putting my hand down your skirt. So yeah, I think you're hot."

Taylor laughs and gently pulls you toward her. "Maybe you should come over here and show me what you wanted to do under my skirt." It's a terrible line even for her, but you can't help but giggle. You love her terrible lines. After some clumsy kissing and shifting around in the backseat, you find yourself in her lap, straddling the thigh with the garter you've been obsessed with all day. Perfect.

"I like this jacket, too," you tell her as you run your hands down the front of it, pausing to fiddle with the zipper. You smile and lean down, close enough to whisper against her lips, "It adds to the overall hotness."

Taylor closes the distance between you, capturing your lips with hers. Your hands slip under her jacket, exploring the exposed skin at her waist, and her tongue slips past your lips to explore your mouth. She tastes like the vodka cranberries she's been drinking off and on all night and something uniquely her. You hum a little moan of approval and let your hands wander along her body as you make out in the backseat. When her arm winds around your waist to grab your ass and pull you closer to her, you thank the stars that the driver had already shut the privacy partition.