Electric Touch - Tayvis One Shots

3. Miscommunications

CW: anxiety attack + quick mentions of things that could be considered emotional abuse

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While Taylor sits on the floor writing in her journal, humming something to herself, Travis strips the bed and takes it down to the laundry room. He starts the comforter in the washer, placing the sheets themselves in the basket to be dealt with tomorrow. He grabs two bottles of water out of the fridge and picks an array of snacks to choose from before bringing them up to his room.

Travis finds Taylor in the exact same spot she was earlier. He sets the bottles and snacks down on the nightstand.

He opens one of the bottles and hands it to Taylor. "Here you go, Princess. Drink this."

Taylor looks at him confused, but she takes the bottle and drinks some of it. She's never had a man put this much effort into caring for her after sex; most of her previous sexual partners just rolled over and fell asleep, not caring whether or not she actually finished.

Travis grabs new sheets and a new blanket from the linen closet and then makes the bed. He looks over at Taylor, who is still in the same spot -- lost in her own little world. He walks over to her, kneeling down in front of her.

He runs his fingers through her tangled hair, causing her to look up at him, being forced out of her own little bubble. "Take a break, Princess. Go pee, maybe eat a snack and drink some more water, then you can go back."

Taylor's eyes widen, panic shooting through her. "Shit," she breathes out before leaning over to rifle through her backpack.

"What's wrong?" Travis asks, worry evident in his voice.

"I forgot to take my meds." Taylor pulls three pill bottles out of her bag.

Travis breathes a small sigh of relief, relieved that it wasn't something he did. Thoughts and questions start to swirl in his head. He didn't know she took medication. What were they for? How often did she need to take them? What times did she need to take them? How long had she been on them? Are they a long-term thing or short-term?

Taylor looks at the labels of the bottles, setting the one she needs aside.

"Um, can I have a snack?" Taylor asks sheepishly bringing Travis out of his thoughts. "I'm supposed to take it with food."

Travis takes in a breath, reacquainting himself with reality. "Go pee first, Princess. I don't want you getting a UTI."

Taylor lets out a nervous giggle, but starts getting up from her spot on the floor. "That's certainly a new one. I think the last time someone told me to go pee was when I was like 12 right before a road trip."

Uncertainty and remorse cloud Travis's green eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just want to take care of you. I'm so sorry."

"Hey, hey, hey." Taylor reaches up to hold his cheek in her soft hand, forcing his eyes to meet hers. "Don't be sorry, Trav. It didn't make me uncomfortable. It's just not something I'm used to."

The remorse in Travis's eyes quickly turns to ire. "I kinda wanna kill every single person you've ever been with," he breathes out. "You deserve to be cared for."

"Maybe don't do that," Taylor laughs. "We can't have sex if you're in jail."

"Okay." Travis pouts his bottom lip out exaggeratedly. "Fine."

He leans in for a quick peck before ushering her to the bathroom.

Travis sits on the freshly-made bed, pulling out his phone, scrolling absentmindedly while he waits for Taylor.