The house is dark and quiet as Taylor pushes open the door from the garage into the kitchen, the silence of early morning engulfing her familiar surroundings. It's almost 2am in Leawood, and Taylor stops as she walks further into the room, quickly kicking off her sneakers and moving to get a glass of water.
Yesterday had been a whirlwind: lunch with Selena, getting ready for the VMAs, the ceremony itself and then the after party, meaning she wasn't in her bed in New York until well after 3am. She'd headed over to Jack and Margaret's for lunch once they'd all woken up the following day; but she had been antsy, clock watching, until everything had been cleared up, bags packed. And she was back on the plane, home to Travis.
She'd known he would be asleep: it was only two days before the game against the Bengals, after all, and he typically required a good ten hours of rest during game weeks. Plus, they'd been all over town the weekend before - and indulging in some late night activities - so she had been glad when he was able to get back home and get back into the football mindset.
She flicks on the small light above the stove, tucked into the extractor fan, and the room lights up with its dull glow before she grabs a glass from the cupboard and fills it with water, sighing in contentment as she glances around the kitchen she loves the most - the one he'd surprised her with by remodelling while she was in Europe.
It had taken her by complete surprise two weeks ago when they'd finally made it made it back to Kansas City for the start of football season, arriving back from a short weekend in Rhode Island with their friends. It had been late, just like now, but he'd cajoled her into straying into the kitchen from the front door despite her protests that she just wanted to go upstairs to sleep.
The door had been closed, but the big red bow on it had been a dead giveaway that he was up to something, and she'd looked back at him suspiciously before opening the door, gasping in shock when she took in the transformation. The kitchen had been nice before, sure, but it was totally different - completely modern, bright, with top of the range appliances and a brand new island gleaming in the darkness. There was a bunch of flowers in the middle of the island, bright and cheerful, and she had gasped, her hand covering her mouth in shock as she turned to him, smirking in the doorway.
'You like it?'
'Trav... it's wonderful. I... you did this for me?'
'I'd do anything to see that smile, baby'.
She smiles now at the memory, before her eyes suddenly register another bouquet of flowers in the middle of the island, and her heart starts beating faster and faster in her chest. She moves closer, taking in the fresh smell, before picking up the card sitting in front of them, her name across the front in his familiar handwriting.
Tay,
Welcome home!
I am so proud of you baby. The most awarded artist in VMA history! That's my girl!!
Love you.
Trav x
The tears come unbidden, an even wider grin spreading across her face as she reads his words, her fingertips tracing across the ink marks on the paper. I love him so much, she thinks. I'm so fucking lucky.
Unable to stick to her earlier resolution that she'd sleep in the guest room so as not to disturb him, she takes the stairs two at a time to reach the first floor, gently opening the door to the master bedroom to find him in their bed, his longer hair mused and messy, sticking out on the pillow, the duvet pulled right up to his face.
She pads over the carpet to her side of the bed, her pillow untouched by him, and pulls back the cover before slipping off her sweatpants and hoodie, leaving her in one of his t shirts she'd swiped so long ago, she considered it hers. Moving carefully so she wouldn't jostle him totally, she climbs into the bed beside him, pulling the duvet over herself.
She watches him for a while, still blissfully asleep, his mouth open a little, his eyebrows furrowed. She's suddenly taken back to over a year ago, and the first time they'd shared a bed - back in her apartment in New York. She'd woken up in the middle of the night, then, mind alive with butterflies and heady thoughts of love. A lot of doubt, too. Fear, most definitely.
He had stirred then, without her even realising, and even at such an early stage of their relationship, he'd known something was up.
'Tay?', he croaked, his sleep-ridden voice cracking at the edge, and she had looked down at him, smiling softly.
'I'm good. Go back to sleep'.
'Somethings happening in that brilliant mind of yours'.
His insightfulness of her mood - despite only being together for a few weeks - had made her cry, and then they'd had the conversation: how difficult it was to be Taylor Swift, how most guys wanted to run a mile, the scrutiny and the attention it would bring. They'd talked for hours and hours, staying up until the early morning light was streaming through the windows, both lying on their sides, Travis trailing his fingers up and down Taylor's back.
'Tay, respectfully, I don't care about any of it. It's too early - I know, and you'll probably think I'm crazy - but I'm falling in love with you. I think you're fucking amazing. And if that's what comes along with getting to be with you, getting to know you and to love you, to support you, then I'll take it all. Lay it all on me, baby. This is the life I chose. We chose, together. We can do this'.
The words have echoed in her head at every moment over the last year when it's felt too much, Travis' easy smile and reassurance always making Taylor's heart flutter. And he had remained true to his word: always supporting her, through everything. Loving her, like no one ever had before. Making her laugh, treating her like a princess. No one's ever had her, not like him.
So now she can't resist the temptation, and reaches a hand out of the bed covers to carefully trace the space at the side of his eyes that crinkles when he smiles, moving to smooth out the furrow in his brow, to cup his jaw in her hand. She snuggles closer, and his hands move automatically to her waist, making her smile before she moves in, placing a kiss to his lips.
He shuffles a little, his eyes blinking open and closed, before he registers that she's there and they open properly, a smile spreading across his face to match her own. 'Hi, baby girl', he whispers, kissing her again, his arms properly encasing her and pulling her flush against his chest.
'Hi. I love you'.
'I love you more, most decorated artist in VMA history'.
Taylor giggles against him, and he does too, the movement vibrating against her. 'Oh hush, three time Super Bowl champion'.
'We like hardware in this house baby'.
She nods, looking up to kiss him again, her hands moving to caress through his hair. He pulls back, though, before they can move any further, laughing at her pout.
'Baby...I...', he falters, unusually for Travis, and she gives him time to continue.
'What you said. On stage. Thank you. You didn't have to, sweetie...'
'But I wanted to. It meant a lot to me, you know. When I think about that video, I think of that'.
He smiles, pecking her lips before beginning again. 'Tay, I promise. As long as I'm around, I'll always be the guy in the back whooping and hollering at everything you do. I'm so proud of you'.
'Good thing I plan on you being around forever, then'.
