For Him (Tracob)

Jacob's pov

As I slide into the backseat of the Uber I called for, all I can think is...I'm sore. I know Troye would scoff at me if I complained to him. "You're a model Jake, not a bodybuilder."

But I really am sore, and not in an I just bench-pressed an elephant kind of way, but in a way where my job is literally just to sit or stand still and have other people arrange my limbs. I can feel that dull ache in my lower back from sitting poker straight for too long. I can't wait to be home. Pretty much everyday, the prospect of returning home and being with Troye is what I look forward to, but some days I just crave it. There is nothing else I want more than to just curl up and inhale his familiar scent and run my hands through his hair. I've barely talked to him all day. I've been working, he's had about three different interviews to go and record. No time for idling around.

When I get home, I'm so eager to get inside and sit down finally, that it takes me a couple minutes to realize I'm inserting the wrong key into the lock. I find the correct one and let myself inside.

"Tro, you home yet?"

"In our room," he calls back, voice muffled slightly.

I hang my bag on a hook and make a beeline to our bedroom where I find Troye. He's laying on the bed, scrolling through his phone, dressed comfortably in my sweats and a tee. Nash is beside him, ever present and loyal as he is. Troye looks up at me with a smile. He looks a little worn out and fragile.

"Hi, babe,"

"Hey, Tok," I reach out and touch his hand. "You good?"

He shrugs. "Kind of tired."

"You do look tired."

"I just need to lay down for a minute, I think."

Troye gets moments like this, where he's overwhelmed and tired suddenly and has to rest. It's not really triggered by anything in particular, it's just his body reminding him that he needs more rest than the average person. He pats the bed, gesturing for me to join him. "Come, cuddle me, Jakes."

I can hardly resist when he asks so sweetly (okay, he literally didn't ask, I just can't resist) so I kick of my shoes and flop down directly on top of him, sandwiching him between my chest and the bed. Troye whines and wriggles underneath me.

"You're crushing me!" He protests. "I can't breathe.

"Drama queen." I slide off of him and tuck his body against mine, wrapping my arms around his waist. He smells clean, like shampoo and rose oil. And he's warm. I think I could fall asleep just like this. I'm not even in pajamas. I dip my head down and nuzzle his neck, pressing kisses up onto his cheek. I can feel Troye relax underneath me, and he twists around so he's facing me.

"I got booked last minute to play at Variety's party next week," he tells me quietly.

"Baby! Are you excited?"

He shrugs. "It's not a huge deal, I've played them before. I was more wondering...should we announce it?"

I raise my eyebrows. "The twins? Are you ready?"

"Well, we'll have just found out the genders then, so the timing seems right."

"But are you ready?" I repeat gently.

Troye frowns. "I don't know. I'm already nervous because...you already know. Twins. Unexpected. It's a lot by itself. But I'm also happy and I don't want anyone dampening on that with their negative opinions, or stressing us out more."

"We don't have to tell them now."

"Not telling them isn't an option. It's not my fans, 99.9% of them will be great and fine and happy. They're sweet, and lovely. It's the media. The press. They're a mess."