TNT Short Fics

You never saw it coming, slipped when you started running

The steady rhythm of their feet hitting the pavement provides the perfect distraction, drowning out the noise in his head. Ever since Taylor had dragged the covers off him the Thursday after the game and told him to put on his running shoes, their mornings have started with looping the neighborhood together.

Out here, it's just them—side by side, putting one foot in front of the other. He's grateful for the distraction and the routine. Taylor doesn't make him talk. She just keeps a steady pace beside him, even though he knows she's the faster distance runner and prefers the treadmill. She's always been good at that—knowing when to push and when to just be with him.

Some mornings, the silence between them feels light, like an easy rhythm they've fallen into. Other times, it's heavier, thick with the words he hasn't figured out how to say yet. Today is one of those mornings. The weight of last Sunday still lingers, threading through his muscles, sitting deep in his chest. He tries to shake it off, to focus on the pavement ahead, but it clings to him, slowing him down before he even realizes it.

A stitch in his side catches his breath, and he slows for a moment, hand to his ribs. Tay does the same, always in sync with him, and gives him a concerned look.

"Shit, it's just a charley-horse. Give me a sec," he hisses, wincing at the sharp grab in his side. He slows to a walk, circling the pavement, waiting it out.

"Fuck," he spits out, even as the pain starts to fade.

He bends at the waist, stretching the last of it out, but now he's thrown off their pace. As Taylor's hand comes to rest on his back, rubbing soothing circles, something catches in his chest.

It isn't just the pain from the cramp—it's the weight of everything. The loss, the frustration, the fear of what comes next. He's been running every morning, not just to move, but to outrun the thoughts that creep in when he's not expecting them. But here, in this pause, they all catch up to him.

The thing is, he's good at compartmentalizing. After the game, he'd walked with tunnel vision through the stadium and let himself fall into Taylor's embrace, tucking his emotions and everything he couldn't say into the crook of her neck. They stayed that way for a few blissful moments. Nothing could touch him there—all he knew was the comforting scent of her skin and the soft words she murmured to him, telling him how much she loved him and how proud she was. Those few moments buoyed him enough to make it through seeing friends and family, through the trip back to the house Taylor had rented for everyone to stay at, and through a few drinks with his boys with Tay by his side.

And while he'd made it back to Kansas City and hashed things out with Jason a bit, it still felt numb. Jason had told him to rest—that rest came before decisions. Taylor had babied him, making cinnamon rolls, building a nest of blankets in the den for mindless movies, and sneaking them out to his favorite pizza place, where she'd bought the entire place out for the night to have some peace. But come Thursday, she'd made him get up and run with her.

"You get to feel however you want to feel, Trav. But remember the post-tour rule? No moping."

He'd reached a pinkie toward her, and her smile had lit up her face as she hooked hers around his in a pinkie promise. That was motivation enough to get him moving. And she'd been right—moving helped. It got him through the last team meeting of the season and through making plans to talk to Andy once they were back from the long-needed vacation they were about to take.

However, everything seems to have caught up with him beside his neighbor's overly manicured lawn. Thankfully, living in a twice-gated community means the street is clear, save for Drew hanging back a few yards.