Something About You

Twenty Nine. February, 2018.

**please note: this chapter delves into Isla's work as a lawyer, which involves domestic violence and abuse against women and children. please read with caution.**

Niall has always been worried about Isla overworking herself, but it's not until she moves in with him that he realizes he hasn't, actually, been worried enough.

Before this, Niall'd always assumed that late nights were few and far between for Isla—that she would come over to his flat at 10pm not because she'd only just left the office, but because she'd stopped off at her own flat first, or gone to the gym, or taken a quick trip to the shops. Two weeks into living together and he learns that he's never been more wrong in his life. Most nights, he's lucky to have her home by 9.

Even then, though, Isla brings her work home, spends hours curled up on the couch with case briefings in her lap, a cup of tea untouched on the table next to her. He wonders if she even remembered to eat dinner before living with him—sometimes he'll bring her a plate only for her to look up at him, confused, before realizing she hasn't eaten since lunch.

He knows Isla's work is important, that she literally saves lives, but, on occasion, he wonder if it's literally killing her.

Two days before Valentine's Day, he decides enough is enough.

'So I was thinking,' he starts, bringing a bowl of Shepherd's Pie over to Isla. She's taken over the dining room table tonight, surrounded by stacks and stacks of paper. 'Thursday.'

'Hmm?' She glances up at him, eyes heavy, exhausted. 'What about it?'

'S'Valentines Day,' Niall places the bowl down in front of Isla, smoothing a hand over the back of her hair. 'Do you think you can bunk off work a little early? I wanna take you out.'

Slowly, sadly, Isla closes her eyes. She leans her head back into Niall's hand, and he feels his heart sink. 'No,' she sighs. 'I'm in court all day Thursday.'

'How late is all day?'

'Dunno,' she says, eyes still closed. 'The judge usually calls it around 6, but it could go longer... I'm sorry, Niall,' she opens her eyes, an apologetic look on her face. 'This case is just... God, it's a tough one.'

Niall hums, dropping a kiss onto Isla's forehead, letting his lips linger there for a moment. Finally, he asks, 'can I come?'

'To court?' Isla sounds surprised. Niall pulls out the chair next to her, lowering himself down into it.

'Yeah, it's open to the public, isn't it?'

'It is, but I don't think you want—'

'You see me do my job all the time,' Niall says, leaning his elbows on the table. 'I never see you do yours.'

'Well, your work is a little more cheerful than mine,' Isla gestures at the stack of papers between then. 'Do you really want to sit on a nasty wooden court bench for hours and listen to a scared, lonely child give devastating testimony about the domestic violence he and his mother experienced? S'a little different from watching you pop a boner and sing Slow Hands.'

'I have never popped a boner during Slow Hands.'

'Oh, really? Because I have evidence—'

'Shut up,' Niall laughs, knocking Isla's leg with his under the table. 'You're the only one who's able to tell anyway.'

'I dunno, babe. Twitter has a lot of theories.'

'Stop looking on Twitter, it'll lower your IQ. The children need you,' Niall places his hand on top of the stack again, bringing the conversation back around. 'Your work is really important, petal. Way more important than mine. I want to support you the way you support me.'