Always Fighting // Kyrie Irving

Delirium

Warning: this chapter contains excessive cuteness. Read at your own risk. 

Sabrina- 

"Ky, you did it!" I scream, wrapping Kyrie in a hug when he comes out of the Quicken Loans Arena. We couldn't see each other before, there was ice baths and practically mandatory post game interviews, so we agreed to meet each other after. He presses a kiss to my forehead, rocking his body so I'm on my tiptoes and tilted to one side. I laugh against his chest as he rights me again and slips his hand through mine. 

"We needed this win and we came up big, Sab!" He starts to walk us to his car, since Dani left earlier with our rental. As soon as we get in the car, he grabs my hand again, stroking my thumb with his. 

"Is that what has you in such high spirits today?" I ask, laughing as he presses a kiss to my knuckles. Kyrie has always surprised me with this romantic side of his, but this is just so tender it makes my heart melt a little bit. 

"That's a part of it! You're kind of a big deal, too." 

Despite the high I felt after we won the game, the lull of the car and Kyrie stroking my hand is practically putting me to sleep. I can feel my eyelids getting heavy and struggle to keep them open. The next thing I know, the car has come to a complete stop. 

"Is this-is this my stop," I slur, wondering why the drive seemed shorter than it did going to the Q. 

"Shh, baby," He says, opening his door and letting in a waft of humid air that brushes over my slumped body. I vaguely sense him trying to close the door quietly, but he must failed, because he has to open and shut in again. The next thing I know, I hear my side open and his arms wrap around me, lifting me out of the car. 

Maybe some girls would be embarrassed about having their boyfriend carry them into their hotel room, while they slump tiredly against their chest. But right now, I could care less, it feels safe and warm and his cologne is a musty scent that dulls my senses. 

It feels like he carries me forever, and I can feel his body shift as he walks up the stairs. The stairs? Why didn't he take the elevator? We have a room on the fifth floor. This realization causes me to try and look around more. This doesn't smell like our hotel either, it smells homey. And where are the bright hotel lights? Why is this place so dark? Finally, Kyrie nudges open a door with his shoulder and places me on a bed. How did he just nudge our door open? Also, since when are hotel sheets blue? 

I curl up tighter against the strangely warm bed and try to rub my eyes awake. It takes a while but I finally become a little more aware of my surrounding. 

"Kyrie?" I murmur.

"Yeah, baby?" His voice is behind me and I twist my body around. There he is sitting on a small chair in the corner of his room, slowly untying his shoes. 

"You brought me to your house instead, didn't you?" 

"Mhm, you were tired already. I didn't see the need to drive farther to your hotel when I got a perfectly good house right here." He runs a hand over his hair, yawning. Wait a second, I think. I'm on his bed, aren't I?  

"Kyrie! I can sleep on the couch! You deserve to sleep on your bed!" 

"Like I'm going carry you all the way downstairs and leave you there. No way, Sab, you sleep here." 

"What about you?" My voice is getting heavy with tiredness again. "You're the one who played an NBA game today."

"That is entirely up to you," He says, walking over and bending down to kiss my cheek. 

"Well," I stifle a yawn. "Your bed is pretty large..." 

Kyrie- 

I wake up to my alarm blaring next to me at 7:30. Crap! I set my phone for an hour later but forgot to turn of the 7 A.M. one. I try and lift my arm to turn it off, but something is stopping it. Blinking my eyes in an attempt to clear them, I see my arm is wrapped around Sabrina's waist, her hand overlapping it. She starts to stir, because the alarm is still persisting so I gently retract my hand to stop it. 

She flips over, nuzzling herself against my chest. 

"Good morning," she slurs, her voice muffled by my shirt. 

"Good morn-" I can't even finish a sentence before a yawn takes over. Leaning my head back against the pillow, I shift my arm under her so it's more comfortable. All of a sudden, she starts laughing, short and interspersed. "What?" 

"Nothing, I was just thinking." 

"About?" I probe gently, tickling her side so she doesn't stop laughing. 

"I think you should try and win more games Kyrie. Something about the excess adrenaline? Maybe your manly hormones leave everything on the court so your left with this romantic side of you. Either way, I like it." 

"Baby, I always been this romantic. Maybe you just have to be delirious to realize it."

"Delirious? I wasn't delirious last night! Tired, sure... but delir-" 

"Sab, you asked me on the way home if Buffalo Wild Wings meat was actually buffalo." 

"I was probably kidding!"

"I sarcastically said it was and you started to cry." Her eyes open in horror when I say that. 

"No. Oh, please no. I didn't cry over buffalo... No." 

When my 8:30 alarm goes, we've woken up enough to get out of bed, and when she gets up I realize she's still wearing the same shorts and shirt as yesterday. Then again, so am I, but I have on what I wore for postgame. She wore her outfit the whole day. 

"Come here," I say, reaching for her hand and tugging her to my closet. I quickly shuffle through a few piles of clothing before grabbing her one of my t-shirts and my logo sweatshirt. She takes them with a smile and quickly leaves for the bathroom to change. I sit on the bed and wait for her. When she finally comes out, I can't help but take a moment to admire her. The shirt cuts mid thigh and even with her hair falling out of last night's braid, and mascara crumbling under her eyes, she still looks so gorgeous. She notices me staring at her and laughs again. 

"No ideas, pretty boy. I'm still wearing my shorts under this."