Cheeks Pink

Fortnight set

*Sorry for any wrong typos

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It's barely dawn when Travis's alarm buzzes, cutting through the quiet of the room. He groans, stretching as his hand instinctively searches for the snooze button. Beside him, Taylor stirs, her pale face nestled in the pillow, the faint blush of illness dulling her usual vibrancy. She's been fighting a stubborn cold for days now, but her relentless schedule—studio recordings, tour rehearsals, album making and music video shoots—won't allow her the rest she desperately needs.

Travis rolls over, brushing a tender kiss against her forehead. "Morning, babe. How're you feeling?"

Taylor's eyes flutter open, and she groans softly. Her voice comes out raspy, barely above a whisper. "Like I've been hit by a truck."

He lets out a soft laugh, his eyes creasing with sympathy. "Poor truck." His hand glides gently over her hair. "Somehow, we've got to pull it together for today."

Taylor sighs, her body sinking further into the bed as if trying to disappear under the blankets. "I don't even know how I'm supposed to function like this," she mumbles.

Travis smiles, leaning in closer. "Here's the deal, my lady. You power through today, and after this, I'll whisk you away for the world's longest, most luxurious vacation. No work, no schedules. Just us."

Taylor lifts her eyes to meet his, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "You better follow through," she murmurs, her tone playful despite her exhaustion. She tilts her head, her gaze lingering.

Travis chuckles, brushing his lips against hers in a soft morning kiss. "That's a promise, babe."

As Taylor slowly gets up to start her morning routine, she catches sight of Travis in the hallway, moving from room to room with purpose. His familiar sports bag is open on the bed, and he's carefully packing it with items.

"What are you up to?" she calls out, pausing mid-stretch. "I thought today was your day off."

"Exactly," Travis replies without looking up, methodically checking his list. "That's why I'm coming with you to set."

"Medicine? Check. Water bottles? Two check. Blanket? Check. What am I missing?" he mutters under his breath, his brow furrowed in thought.

Taylor leans against the bathroom doorframe, a small smile creeping across her face. "Wait—you're coming with me?"

"Of course," he says, glancing up at her briefly. "No way I'm letting you do this alone, especially when you're feeling like this."

Taylor's tired eyes light up, and her voice rises with excitement. "You're serious?"

"Dead serious," Travis replies, finally looking up to meet her gaze. "Do you need extra comfy clothes?"

"No, I'm good. Your hoodie should do the trick," Taylor says, already pulling his oversized sweatshirt over her head. The sleeves hang loosely past her hands, and she pairs it with sweatpants, her go-to comfort combo before slipping into her shooting outfit.

"Whatever my queen wants," Travis quips, grinning as he approaches. He wraps his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. His nose grazes her neck, inhaling her familiar scent.

"Babe, you might get so bored on set," Taylor murmurs, leaning into his warmth, her fingers brushing lightly against his cheek.

"Never." Travis's voice is low, filled with affection. "How could I get bored when I get to spend the day with you? I'll be your assistant, your number-one hype guy."