Tracob Oneshots

You Made It

For my darling bud, Elise. I hope you like it!! I wrote this in about a grand total of two hours all together, so it's a bit rushed, but maybe still okay? I hope? Anyways, Happy holidays, kiddos!!

It's the jet lag that has me up before the alarm. My body is still on Tokyo time. Up until yesterday morning, I was shooting a magazine cover there, but I flew back the second we wrapped to make it back to Los Angeles in time to see my boyfriend play the biggest show of his career thus far.

The boyfriend in question is slumbering peacefully in the bed beside me, one arm curled up to rest his hand in his dark hair. His body is turned so he's facing me, almost touching me but not quite. The sun filters through the curtains, lighting up the bright, neat room. His team made the executive decision for us to stay in a hotel room tonight, to save us the 45 minute drive to the venue from our house. This way we're practically across the street.

We should both wake up and start getting ready for the day - after all, it's a big day - but for now, the alarm isn't set to go off for another 20 minutes. It's just me and Troye in the still, quiet air. I inch forwards and slide my arm around him, scooting him closer to me slowly. He gives a little breathy yawn, bringing his hand to my waist and snaking it up my shirt, fingers trailing the curve of my spine. I let out a little shiver at his cool touch on my sleep-warmed skin, lips quirking up.

We joke a lot, but the truth is that Troye's a simple boy. As long as he has food and the freedom to write and listen to music freely, and I hug and kiss him enough, and he can fall asleep next to me, he's happy.

He told me once when we had first started dating, that all he wanted was hugs. I took it as a sort of joke at the time, but as time went on, the more and more I put that philosophy to use, the more and more I saw how true it is for him.

80% of all his problems can be either solved or diffused by me wrapping him up in my arms and holding.

Physical touch placates him, it's as simple as that. He's just very sensitively expressive person. I stroke his hair back, and trace my thumb over his skin, mapping out his face and kissing the little birthmark beneath his eye and then his lips too, for good measure. Troye's nose twitches at the touch and he makes soft, unintelligible whispers. He's too deep asleep for it to disturb him in the slightest though, and slumbers right through it.

I lay still next to him until the alarm goes off, which makes him whine and screw up his face like a baby just before crying, but instead he rolls onto his side away from me and stretches massively. I can practically hear every joint in his body crack. He finishes with a yawn, refreshed and turns back to me, wrapping his arms around my neck and resting his face on my shoulder.

"That was good," he mumbles. "The sleep, I mean."

"It was cause of me," I reply wisely.

Troye yawns again. "I know you're kidding, but it probably was. You're a pillow and a full sized hot water bottle in one.

"Glad to see I hold such value for you," I murmur. Troye scratches the back of my head, tugging at my hair.

"A nice hot water bottle. A sexy one.".

I smirk. "I put the hot in hot water bottle."

Troye peeks up at me to roll his eyes. "That was awful. That was dad level bad."

I kiss his cheek. "Then give me a baby."

"I can't," he whines. "It's my biggest regret in life. I would, if I could. I'd give you a dozen. Strapping lads."

"Christ, I don't know if I want a dozen."

"Not even STRAPPING LADS?" Troye giggles, dropping head head onto my shoulder.