Tayvis One-Shots

midnight dance

Taylor's POV

The clock on the stove reads 12:37 AM.

I should be asleep. We both should.

Instead, we're here, barefoot in the kitchen, the only light coming from the dim glow of the fridge I forgot to close.

Travis is holding me like we have all the time in the world, his hands warm and steady against my lower back, swaying us gently to the music playing from his phone. It's not a love song, not in the traditional sense, just some old, scratchy tune he found on a playlist, but it doesn't matter. It's slow, it's soft, and it's ours.

"You're so tired," he murmurs, resting his chin against the top of my head.

I hum against his chest, too comfortable to lift my head. "Mhm."

"And yet, here we are."

"You're the one who pulled me up." I smile sleepily, letting my fingers trail over his shoulders. "Dancing in the middle of the night was not my idea."

He chuckles, and I feel the vibration of it in my cheek. "You looked too cute to resist."

I roll my eyes but don't let go. His hoodie hangs loose on my frame, the sleeves falling past my fingertips, but I don't bother fixing them. I like wearing his clothes. I like smelling like him.

The song changes to something even slower, and he spins me, just to be dramatic, before pulling me back into his arms. I laugh, tipping my head up to look at him.

"You think you're so smooth."

"I don't think, sweetheart," he teases, giving me a playful smirk. "I know."

I swat at his arm, but he just pulls me closer, his forehead resting against mine. "I love you, you know," he murmurs, voice softer now.

Something in my chest tightens, the way it always does when he says it like that—like it's not just a fact but a promise.

I press a kiss against his jaw, letting the moment stretch between us. "I know."

He sighs dramatically. "And yet, no 'I love you' back? Unbelievable. I should revoke your midnight dance privileges."

I laugh, grabbing his face between my hands and peppering it with kisses. "I love you," I say between each one. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

He grins. "That's more like it."

The fridge beeps in protest, and I reluctantly step away to close it. When I turn back, Travis is already waiting, holding out his hand like we're at some grand ballroom instead of standing barefoot in our kitchen.

"One more song?" he asks.

I take his hand, stepping back into his warmth. "Always."

The song fades into silence, but neither of us moves.

Travis is still holding me, but there's a shift, something subtle, something unspoken.

I feel it before I even know what it is.

His fingers trace slow, absentminded circles against my back, and when I glance up at him, his eyes are distant, like his mind is somewhere else entirely.

"Travis?" I tilt my head. "What's wrong?"

He hesitates, and that hesitation alone is enough to make my stomach twist.

"It's nothing," he says finally, his voice light. Too light.

I pull back slightly, searching his face. "Trav."