TNT Short Fics

Tour Mode - Addendum: Post-Hamburg, Germany

Author's Note: The world is a terrible place. So sometimes when things are heavy in real life, it's nice to put something happy out there. Hope you enjoy.

He answers on the fourth ring.

"You get lost?" she jokes before fully taking him in. He's still tucked up under the covers and she can just see tufts of hair sticking out over the duvet. He gets one day off this week and he immediately went home to sleep in a real bed, their bed. Looking at him now, she realizes how much she's missed him in this place. Missed seeing him in the place where they have made a home.

"Taylor, I think I'm dead," comes his muffled reply.

"You're not dead."

"How do you know?"

She's trying very hard not to laugh because he's ridiculous but he's also very very cute like this.

"Cause I know you and you being dramatic means you don't even have any serious aches or pains. If you did, you'd be trying to pretend they weren't there. Hyperbolic Trav means you are just out of shape."

He pulls the blankets down just enough to give her a withering look.

"I'm not out of shape!"

"Well no, honey, you're not out of normal people shape," she points out. "You are however out of elite number one tight end in the NFL with 3 Super Bowl ring shape who now is getting his ass handed to him by his coach in the midwest humidity," she points out.

"Now you're just stringing random words together," he grumbles.

"Okay, Grumpy Pants McGee, are we bed rotting together or what?"

"Yes, sorry," he replies, sheepish and finally sitting up so she can see him fully.

"Good," she says with a nod of her head. "Now whatcha you got?"

Travis angles the camera towards his bedside table so she can see the full assortment of things he's got stashed there. "Doordashed Dutch Bros, cinnamon toast crunch, massive amounts of water, and I think we should finish the Tennis documentary. How about you?"

She looks longingly at the screen as she says, "I'm so jealous of that coffee. Why can't I have iced coffee anywhere on this continent? I'm fucking Taylor Swift, doesn't that mean I can find a real iced coffee as god intended it somewhere?"

"Tay, you're tangenting on iced coffee again," he interrupts.

"Sorry," she answers, taking a breath and sharing the tray on her bed. "I have a smoothie that is apparently good for me, a diet coke that is at least cold, the last of the Trader Joe's Takki's knockoffs that you brought me, and that doc is apparently not on this version of Netflix so how about that Glen Powell movie?"

"Tay," Travis replies while narrowing his eyes at her.

"What?" she asks innocently.

He points at the screen, "I'm on to you."

A playful, haughty look replaces the innocent one as she snarks, "You know nothing."

"I know you have a burgeoning thing for wholesome boys that grew up in the Midwest. And I'm here to tell you, that you're gonna have to stare at Glen's ass some other time without me."

"See this is where you are wrong," Taylor returns as she piles her hair on top of her head and clamps a big clip around it.

"I am?" he says pointing at himself. He's trying not to break a smile and end the little bit they have going.