TNT Short Fics

Suburban Legends

"Thirty-fifth birthdays are weird."

Travis had said that to her on the way home from the post-game party on his birthday weekend. He'd been half asleep against her shoulder. Not really making sense with how tired he was, but it was the loopy, happy tired you get from a good day. She'd merely kissed his head and hummed her agreement as he fell asleep.

That sentence hadn't hit her until now. As she flings herself back onto their bed after a night out for her birthday, she finally understands. She's pulling her sweater over her head as Travis pulls her tights and skirt off. Not in a sexy way, but in an "imsofuckingoverheatedfromthatbarpleasegetthemoffTrav" kind of way. As he pours her into the polka dot pajamas she'd giddily bought just days before because she had suddenly realized she was someone who could use Target drive-up to buy Christmas decorations and random shit just like everyone else, she thinks it again, this time out loud.

"Thirty-fifth birthdays are weird."

And promptly bursts into tears.

Travis's eyes go wide and he bends down to look her in the eyes very confused, "Hey, what's all this? Was tonight not nice?"

She can't modulate her voice for some reason and all but wails "NO! Tonight was perfect!"

And it was. Surrounded by friends and people who have become part of her community, part of her family, she'd never felt more content. She's fit herself into Travis's life in a way she only dreamed of with previous partners, just as he had fit himself into hers. Kansas City has become a second home and as she blew out the candles on her cake she felt so lucky and excited for what the next few months would hold here.

And yet thirty-fifth birthdays are weird. So here they are—confused and crying at three in the morning.

She opens her mouth to try to explain and all that comes out is, "I'm old."

"You are not old," he replies, narrowing his eyes at her. "You may be drunk. But you are not old."

"No for real, Trav. If we have kids, they'll call me old. Doctors call women who get pregnant after 35 geriatric," she emphasizes, pulling him closer by the arm. "I'm sure Billboard is calling me geriatric right now too and plotting to replace me."

"Alright," he says, looking amused. "Let's go." He pulls her downstairs to the kitchen where he thrusts a glass of water into her hand and all but demands she drink the whole thing.

Once done, she hops up onto the island and is one hundred percent sure she's pouting. Something in her can't help it...probably the vodka.

"You know, feeling old. That is definitely something I can commiserate with, Tay."

"You're not old," she grumbles.

"Well, I am older than you by two whole months and in the eyes of everyone in football, I am also geriatric. Just ask ESPN."

"Great," she says sarcastically, "we can be old together." Though honestly, it does make her feel a little better knowing they were in the same boat.

A thought comes to her and suddenly she must tell him exactly what is on her mind, so she grabs his shoulder, looks deep into his eyes, wanting to convey how serious she is, and says, "I'm 35. I think I have to start moisturizing my neck better."

The restraint she sees flash across his face as he tries to hold back his amusement is expert level and the rational part of her brain that is fighting for its life loves him all the more for it.

Instead of laughing in her face, he looks equally as serious at her and asks, "Do you think I should start coloring that gray streak of hair right there in front? Or should I just go ahead and buzz my hair again."

"Travis Kelce!" she exclaims, slapping his chest. "Don't you fucking dare! All my hard work, you leave it alone."

He throws his head back laughing at her indigent look, suddenly breaking the serious tone of the moment. He pulls her close and into her ear, tells her, "Tay, we're not old."

He squeezes her tight before leaning back and running his hands down her cheek and over the neck that she's hellbent on moisturizing before reminding her, "The world wants us to think we're old. We're not old. We've got all this future ahead of us. Kids and more football games and sold-out stadiums and movie premieres and Grammys and dancing in clubs. All of that is still ahead of us. Our life is still ahead of us."

And maybe that is why thirty-fifth birthdays are weird. All that life they've lived before now but also all that life that is still to come. The anticipation of it. Waiting with bated breath for it to happen.

"Maybe you're right," she reluctantly agrees. "I can't wait for all of that, Trav. All that life we have to live."

"Me either," he says with a smile.

He grabs her hand and helps her down off the counter before leading her into the den. As he sits on the couch, he pulls her in front of him by the hips.

"I like these," he points out, tugging on the hem of her polka-dot shorts.

"They're my suburban mom PJs," she jokes with a wrinkle of her nose. "I bought them and a Stanley Cup on Wednesday to get into the role."

Travis cracks up at that, the corners of his eyes crinkly in that perfect way she'll remember forever and has memorialized in song. Nothing about them was ever going to be suburban. But this moment, this pause in her schedule was going to give them just a glimpse of what that might have been.

"I'm sure someday you'll be wearing your suburban mom PJs while you're on tour or we're in some far-away place and it will remind you that is not who we are. But it's nice to be in this little bit of time, just us here together."

"They are really cozy," she states with a shrug. "They'll be cozy the next time we go to Como and it's both hot and cold at the same time somehow."

Travis snorts and then pulls her by the hips onto his lap. "The next time we go to Lake Como, I'm going to marry you. Maybe even in your suburban mom pajamas."

"I hope that is a promise," she answers, suddenly feeling sober and not so distraught at the thought of the future.

He kisses her hand. "You already know, babe."

AN: I'm hoping this broke my writer's block. I have half of a final Tour Mode Addendum done. And half of the second half of my last published story done.

I'm also willing to take some requests of moments you'd like to see. I just have a few no-gos: no serious medical issues or mental health problems, no digging into real-life things that were not great for either of them, no pregnancy or lots of kids. I can't promise to write every request but always love some suggestions.