V

You were no fashion police, but at one glance, you knew it was a disaster.

With a grin so blindingly wide, your 6’3 heavily tattooed husband stood in front of you, proudly showing his revolutionary pattern-on-pattern ensemble. Noah’s big hands rested on his hips as he twirled like a princess— a princess who looked like a hobo dressed in a striped long-sleeve shirt paired with black metal band shorts with a totally unreadable print and, of course, his favorite grimy slip-ons.

“Pretty cool, huh?” He asked, voice so smug as if he had just made a fashion breakthrough.

You only shook your head in response, groaning as you rubbed your forehead. You had been with Noah for 12 years now, yet you still had not gotten used to his sudden bursts of cringe-worthy antics now and then.

“That Austin kid is gonna stay away from my baby girl after today,” he added, showing his overprotective girl-dad self once again.

You had just finished lunch at home, and Noah was preparing to run some errands for you and pick up your daughter from school along the way.

It was supposed to be your turn to accomplish those, but your husband insisted on doing them instead after your 10-year-old had gushed about this ‘cute boy with hazel eyes’ in her class over dinner last night. Apparently, the said boy— Austin— had told her she was pretty, which made Noah stop mid-bite, his brows raising in both curiosity and disapproval.

“Noah, you’re just gonna embarrass her!” And me, you wanted to add.

He was already making heads turn at the school with his head-to-toe ink; you didn’t wanna know how the other parents would react to this abomination of an outfit.

But maybe you were just thinking about it too much.

“Babe, that’s the point,” he snickered. “No sane boy would ever want to go near my little girl again if her father looks this cool.”

You couldn’t help but snort. Nothing about him at the time was close to cool. If anything, he looked like a dork.

Your kind of dork.

He continued, “I’d do this over and over again until she’s 18.”

“She’s gonna hate you so much,” you said between giggles before pulling his head down to peck his lips before combing your fingers through his growing hair.

“Nah, she’s 10, I can just buy her forgiveness with a brand-new iPad.”

You swatted his chest. “Stop spoiling your daughter!”

“Baby, let me enjoy this while I still can,” he countered, smirking as he placed a kiss against your head, his arms tightly wrapped around your shoulders. 

Huffing, he continued to whine. “It seemed like yesterday when I was building her unicorn castle in the backyard... she was squealing, running away from daddy tickles... Now, she’s telling us a boy likes her? And she likes it? What’s next? She’s gonna go on a date? She gonna marry this Justin kid?"

“Austin,” you corrected, trying to hold back a laugh.

He groaned, resting his chin on the crown of your head. “Before we know it, my princess is gonna be off to college, and I have no one left to spoil rotten.”

You chuckled against his chest, your hands gently rubbing his back like you’re soothing a baby.

An overdramatic baby.

As Noah quieted down, you looked up at his pouting face. A smirk tugged at your lips as an idea popped into your mind.

Just to appease your whining husband, and perhaps, save you and your daughter from the humiliation today.

“Baby, how about you lose these ugly clothes…” You paused, letting your hand rest against the small of his back. Biting your lip, you playfully batted your lashes at him before dropping what could be the best thing your husband had heard all day.

Or perhaps, all year. 

“…And I give you another one to spoil then?”

###

A multitude of squeals from across the crowded room catches your attention, the bridal party you’ve been invited to join already stationed at a table closest to the stage.

“You made it!” one chimes, while you just laugh and shrug.

“Barely. What is this place?” Glancing around, you take in the various people, trying to gain some semblance of understanding. There are no stripper poles, but there is a large stage, and beneath the buzz of the crowd is the steady hum of music, a playlist no doubt intended to keep everyone occupied until the performers take the stage.

“My bridal party.” The bride beams, wearing a sash and chewing on the straw of whatever fruity drink she’d been sipping.

“No, babe. She means what’s this place, as in the club,” another of the group corrects, to which the bride to be just shrugs.

“All I know is there’s naked men.” She giggles, wriggling the fingers of her free hand and groping at the air before reaching for a stack of bills. “And Mama is ready for a show!”

“I’m going to get a drink and catch up to however many she’s had.” You laugh, excusing yourself and turning toward the bar.

“A vodka cranberry.” You place your order as you reach the bar, your eyes drifting down to the flyer resting on the countertop. It’s a group photo similar to the poster you’d seen outside the club, each performer’s stage name printed above them.

When your gaze lands on Animal, it lingers. Your finger reaches out, brushing against his bare chest on display in the photo, tracing the tattoo of a bald eagle clutching a trout. The corners of your mouth twitch with amusement at the sight. Out of all the tattoos featured in the picture, that one certainly has a way of drawing your attention, and when your eyes flick up to his face, the hint of a cheeky grin sends an unexpected flutter through your stomach.

That sensation is quickly quashed when a tattooed hand enters your periphery and sets a glass down on the bar in front of you.

For a second, panic rises in your chest, your mind immediately jumping to the conclusion that one of the dancers has caught you staring, but as you follow the sleeve of tattoos up the bartender’s forearm, the wave of panic breaks, replaced by relief. You’re greeted by a soft smile, tired looking eyes, and tattoos that just barely peek out from beneath the collar of the grey sweater he’s chosen to wear.

“Are you hoping to be picked?” he asks.

The question doesn’t quite reach you, your attention caught instead by the single unruly curl of his otherwise perfectly neat haircut.

“Hm?”

“The guys.” He nods toward the flyer, your fingers still resting on it. “They pick someone from the audience each show.”

“Oh, no, no.” You quickly shake your head, reaching for your drink and taking a small step back. “No, I just came with my friends. One of them is getting married, so if anyone should be chosen—”

“We’ll see.” He cuts you off with an unmistakably cheeky grin, one that not even his well groomed facial hair can hide.

Just as you open your mouth with a witty comeback, you catch sight of the badge pinned to his sweater: World’s Greatest Best Bartender.

“I think there must’ve been very few people in the running for that,” you tease, gesturing toward the badge.

His gaze drops to it before he puffs out his chest dramatically. “Still the world’s greatest.” He clicks his tongue and offers you a playful wink.

You simply shake your head, laughing as you turn away and head back to your group, drink in hand and slowly sipping through the straw.

Upon taking your seat, the house lights dim, and the crowd’s attention is drawn to the still empty stage, now slowly filling with smoke and illuminated by various overhead spotlights. Over the speakers, the low hum of background music abruptly changes, transitioning into a new song as the crowd falls silent, the buzz of anticipation still lingering in the air.

Tonight, Jolly opens the show.

He struts out and takes centerstage, introducing himself as Mr. International before beginning the slow dance of stripping himself layer by layer. First comes his jacket, accompanied by a sensual sway of his hips as he slips it from his shoulders. Then comes his shirt, tossed into the crowd in a balled up heap of fabric, sending the excitable, ravenous women scrambling for it. The sea of phones pointed in his direction does little to distract him. If anything, it seems to boost his confidence as he shows off beneath the spotlights, which only serve to highlight the scatterings of tattoos across his skin.

From the crowd, you watch as a lucky audience member is chosen by Jolly, beckoned onto the stage with hooded eyes and a seductive grin. The expression bleeds seamlessly into the slow, provocative dance that follows. It’s a rhythmic grind that could easily be mistaken for dry humping if not for the careful precision with which he avoids direct contact with the lucky woman.

Whoops, cheers, and whistles erupt around you the second he kicks things up a notch. He lifts his chosen dance partner onto his waist, her legs wrapping tightly around him while his hands settle against the backs of her thighs. Carrying her across the stage with ease, he lowers them both down, kneeling between her thighs as he lays her back and continues the same steady rhythm.

It’s enough to leave you giggling and flustered, even as a bystander.

When the music finally begins to lull, signaling the end of the performance, he rises to his feet, lifting her with him before carefully setting her back down. Taking her hands in his, he bows, pressing what appears to be the brush of a kiss against her knuckles in thanks before sending her offstage.

Just as you expect him to make his own exit stage left, the music erupts once more.

Jolly grins and launches into another dance, this one accompanied by the slow unbuttoning of his pants. First the button. Then the zip. Until, finally, he whips them off entirely.

That’s the moment you nearly choke on your drink.

The timing couldn’t have been worse, taking a sip at the exact moment he flings the pants aside, leaving very little to the imagination as he stands there in a pair of tight black briefs.

A slap lands squarely between your shoulder blades, catching you off guard while simultaneously helping to clear your throat. Tears sting at your eyes as your friend leans close enough for you to hear her over the music and jeering crowd.

“He’s not even the biggest one yet.”

“Wait until you see Viper!” another calls, grinning over the rim of her drink.

“Vi—what?!” you sputter, eyes widening.

Before anyone can answer, your attention is pulled back to the stage as another song begins to play.

Over the speakers, ZZ Top’s Gimme All Your Lovin’ begins, signaling Folio’s entrance—the elusive Animal, drumming away like his namesake, bouncing in sync on his stool with each heavy slam of the drumsticks as the drum kit descends from the ceiling. He’s been waiting for his moment all night, for his turn to put on a show for the screaming crowd.

The combination of the stage lights’ heat and the relentless drumming has left him coated in a glowing sheen of sweat, droplets rolling down his bare, tattooed chest before disappearing beneath the waistband of his shorts.

Across the stage, Jolly joins him, still half naked and barely covered by the guitar strapped across his front, accompanying his fellow entertainer in the performance. Your gaze barely lingers on him before flicking back to Animal, who surveys the audience from behind the drums, searching out his prey, ready to pounce from his perch and onto the main floor.

Though you don’t want to jump to conclusions, you could swear his eyes narrow in on you, darkening as his mouth curves into the same cheeky grin from the flyer you’d been staring at by the bar. Twirling a drumstick between his fingers, he pauses as though contemplating something before extending his arm and pointing in your direction.

Your heart hammers in your chest. You try to dismiss the idea, until he rounds out from behind the drums and heads for the edge of the stage, where he jumps down and makes a beeline straight for you.

There’s no chance to think or respond. Your friends are already squealing around you, urging you to go with him the second he offers out his hand. You attempt to swallow, but your mouth has gone dry. Your lips part and close several times, barely able to form a coherent word.

Somehow, your hand finds its way into his.

A knot of excitement and nerves twists tighter in your stomach as he pulls you closer, flashing that same mischievous grin. Then, in one swift motion, he lifts you from the floor and settles you on his waist, drawing a multitude of gasps and screams from the audience around you.

Your own eyes widen, caught somewhere between shock and delight at how effortlessly he makes the maneuver look.

“And your name would be?” he asks, carrying you over to the stage. The heat of his hand against the back of your thigh seeps through the fabric of your clothing, sending a tingle racing along your spine.

“Oh? Do you usually wait until you have someone like this before asking their name?” you tease, earning a quiet laugh from Folio.

“Good point.”

Peering past you, he settles onto the stool, sitting you in his lap before leaning closer. The warmth of his breath brushes against your ear as he quietly explains what to expect, reassuring you with reminders to hold on tight and that ‘you’ll be safe while you’re with me’.

Beneath you, he bounces his leg, causing you to shift slightly in his lap and drawing you unmistakably closer.

“I bet you didn’t imagine this is how your night would go.”

“Riding a shirtless stranger while he drums? That’s just a regular Saturday night.” You bite your lower lip, trying and failing to hide your smile.

“Spend a lot of Saturdays with shirtless strangers, do you?” he asks, one brow arching.

You shrug coyly. “Maybe.”

“I’ll just have to make it memorable for you, then.”

He adjusts himself on the stool and shifts you comfortably in his lap before taking your arms and placing them over his shoulders.

“I don’t think you’ll have any trouble doing that,” you murmur, crossing your wrists behind his neck.

“Just remember to relax and have some fun with it.”

With a wink, he begins twirling the drumsticks between his fingers as the music swells, the distinctive opening of Warrant’s Cherry Pie filling the club.

It doesn’t take long before he’s joining in, matching the rhythm pounding through the speakers. Any lingering nerves quickly melt away, pushed aside as your focus settles entirely on him. For a moment, it feels as though you’re the only two people in the room.

As the song builds, you find your own rhythm, moving with the bounce of his leg and the pulse of the music. His foot slams against the pedal while the drums thunder beneath his hands, and before long you’re tipping your head back, swaying with the beat and letting yourself get lost in the performance. Then the drum kit begins to move. 

The sudden sensation makes your stomach drop as both you and Folio start to rise, the entire drum kit lifting back up above the stage.

“Just hold on nice and tight. I’ve got you.”

The reassurance is strangely soothing, even coming from a complete stranger. He doesn’t so much as flinch as you continue ascending, barely missing a beat as he keeps playing.

Instinctively, your hands rise to either side of his head, fingers threading into the thick mass of damp hair. This close, you can see the beads of sweat gathered along his skin. Your gaze drifts downward, settling on the tattoo stretched across his chest, the same one that had caught your attention earlier.

Have some fun with it.

His words echo in your mind, and when you catch sight of the Jesus tattoo on the side of his neck, your gaze follows a bead of sweat rolling slowly along it.

Whether it’s bravery or stupidity that overtakes you in the moment, you have no idea. Leaning in, you part your lips and press the flat of your tongue to the side of his neck, dragging it slowly along the column of his throat. An audible groan escapes him in response, Folio’s head falling back as though in offering, exposing more of his neck to you. Still bouncing in his lap in time with the rhythm, you tease your tongue over the tattoo, tracing it before moving closer to his ear and whispering teasingly, “How’s that for having fun with it?”

When you pull back, you catch the glint of excitement burning in his eyes. His mouth curves into that familiar grin, one that now has your stomach flipping when you see it.

“Aren’t you just a wild ride?”

Wouldn’t you like to know? The quip sits on the tip of your tongue, only to die the second the song comes to an end and both you and the drum kit begin lowering back toward the stage.

It feels far too soon to be over. Three minutes is barely enough time to settle into the thrill of it all, yet excitement still courses through you as you remain seated in his lap, continuing to bounce lightly with the movement of his leg until the final notes fade and it’s time for Folio to follow in the previous act’s footsteps and take his bow.

When he lifts you from his lap, he sets you down between his thighs. His hands settle at your hips, giving them a light squeeze before he rises to his feet as well, his touch lingering at your sides.

“So,” he begins, tilting his head, “are you always this much of a wild ride, or…?”

Pressing your lips together, you consider the answer you’d wanted to give earlier before a smirk slowly spreads across your face. “Maybe you’ll have to wait to find out.”

Turning on your heel, you begin making your way off the stage, only to feel his grip at your side stop you and draw your attention back to him.

“And how am I supposed to do that when I don’t even know your name?”

For a moment, you’re almost tempted to take pity on him as he bats those soft, puppy dog eyes at you.

Leaning closer, you brush your lips against his jaw, leaving the faintest kiss on his cheek as you whisper, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Then you step back and slip from his grasp.

Turning to face the crowd once more, you’re immediately reminded that all eyes had been, and still are, on you. Offering a playful curtsy, you quickly cross the stage and descend the stairs before returning to your table, tucking yourself back into your seat amongst the increasingly drunk bridal party.

Immediately, they’re bombarding you with questions and replaying the videos they’d taken of your brief moment onstage, including the kiss you’d pressed to Folio’s cheek before disappearing.

From your seat, you almost don’t dare look back at what you’ve left behind, fearful of finding that familiar puppy dog expression still fixed on his face. If you did, you’d catch him staring in your direction, curiosity all over his face as he tried to figure out exactly how he was going to find you again.

taglist: @hed0nistt @i-love-the-smell-of-your-blood @evrythngistkn @xmads-omensx @flowery-mess @freakoutgirll @hannahvanvelzor @catboy-vessel @th4t-em0-k1d @bluehairpunklol @ferduttini @whatiscute-blog @branika182 @fear-its-beauty @thirstomens @givemesomethingbeautiful @jayunbroken @nosubtlestuff @badomensspecter @vibecops @jestersnotebook @nefugus @lacy1986 @r3prise @likeavilllain @pathion @darksigns-exe @buttercupbabyyy @ami-gami @nogoodsailors @fadingangelwisp @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @nikki-plum @dodgersnotebook @english-fucker @trvshdxddy @theservantbones @itsfarbettertolearn @icybansheesoul @sallyba3 @mapsychoticimagination @fadingintothegrey @oobleoob @romanreigns-supreme @omens-seeker @lobolocaamo @respectfulrebel @courta13 @meddleabout2 @leosunshine @dominuslunae @sleepycactus-omens

・┈・୨୧・┈・

“So… have you had a good time?” Noah asked as you walked hand in hand back to the hotel. You’d be leaving Paris early tomorrow morning, so you two decided to go out for one last fancy dinner, watch the tower sparkle, then make your way back to the hotel. 

“It’s been amazing,” you said, nodding your head, “Thank you, Noah. I really mean it… I’ve needed this.” 

He chuckled, looking down at the ground for a moment before glancing back at you again. 

“What have I told you about thanking me, hm?”

You felt your cheeks suddenly warm, and you gave him a little smile. 

“So…” you said, looking up at the dark night sky, “What’s happening when we get home?”

“What do you mean?” Noah asked. 

You immediately felt shy, which you felt stupid for, since you’ve spent the last four days together. 

“I don’t know,” you said quietly, followed by a shrug, “I guess I’m gonna miss you.”

Noah stopped in his tracks, giving your hand a quick squeeze as you stopped beside him. 

“Baby,” he said with a quiet chuckle, “Just because we’re home doesn't mean we can’t spend time together. You know we live twenty minutes apart, right?”

That earned a reluctant smile from you. 

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?”

You hesitated for a moment as you wondered that yourself.

The point was that this trip had felt like you were in your own bubble, a perfect little world where neither of you had responsibilities or stress- besides the phone calls Noah had to take every now and then. But it felt like now it was coming to an end, the bubble was inevitably going to pop, and you weren’t sure what was going to happen after it did. 

Noah’s face softened, he had learned to read you over these days, and so he knew right now that you were overthinking. 

“You think this ends when we get home?” 

You didn’t answer that, which answered for you. Noah held his arms open, an invitation for you to step into them. 

“Come here.” He said, and so you did. 

He wrapped his arms around you, the two of you standing in the middle of the street, before pulling back to look you in the eyes. 

“Listen to me.” You did. “When we get home, I’ll still call you.” You smiled, “I’ll still annoy you, I’ll still take you to dinner, I’ll still spend time with you.” 

Your chest felt a little lighter, your heart fluttering at how simply he’d said it, like he didn’t even have to think twice. Then Noah tilted his head slightly as you pulled back.

“And if I remember correctly, you’ve got about fifty shopping bags full of things you need to show off- and I plan on letting you.” 

You chuckled, before taking his hand again as you continued walking back to the hotel. 

“So, what kinda things do you want to do when we’re back home?” Noah asked, and you shrugged. 

“I don’t know. I thought you were the one who comes up with the plans.” 

“Well maybe I want you to take the lead,” he smirked, “C’mon, is there anywhere you wanna visit? Bars or restaurants you want to try? A concert you want to go to?”

You were quiet for a moment, thinking about it. Because there was something… 

“Actually…” You said, earning a grin from him. 

“What is it?”

“There’s a band I've always wanted to see, and they’re playing in our city in a few weeks.”

“Who?” He asked, and you looked up to meet his eyes. 

“Bring Me The Horizon.” 

Noah casually nodded his head, like you’d told him you wanted to go to the grocery store or something. 

“I can get us in.” 

You laughed. 

“No you can’t, all the tickets sold out in like 10 minutes. And I am not letting you give your money to scalpers for overpriced resale tickets.” 

“Oh, I won’t need to, baby.” He said smugly, making you stop in your tracks. 

“So how exactly do you plan on getting us in?” 

Noah just shrugged. 

“Oli owes me a favour.” 

“Oli… Oliver Sykes?” You scoffed, and it was clear Noah was trying not to laugh. 

“Yes.” 

You stared at him, like you were trying to figure out whether to believe him or not. 

“...You know Oli Sykes?”

Noah laughed. 

“Of course I do. My band opened for them a couple years ago. Y'know, I even sung Antivist on stage with him a few times.” 

You shook your head in disbelief. 

“How have you never told me this?”

“You never asked!” 

“Because I didn’t know I needed to ask!” You scoffed in disbelief.

Noah laughed again, and you were still staring up at him, trying to process all this information. You knew his band must’ve been doing well for him to have the money he has, but you didn’t quite realise who Noah was… 

“So you’re telling me… you’re friends with Oli?”

“We’ve worked together and we get along… I don’t know if he’d count me as a friend.” Noah chuckled, suddenly seeming a little shy.

“But you have his number right?” You asked, and Noah nodded his head. “Oh my god, text him!” 

“I can’t text him.” Noah laughed. 

“Please?”

“No.” 

“Pretty please?”

“No,” he chuckled, “He’s probably spending time with his kids or in rehearsals or something.”

You pouted. 

“Just one text? Just check in on him…?”

“I am not texting Oli at nearly midnight because the pretty girl I took to Paris told me to.” 

You let out a long sigh, shaking your head in defeat. 

“Baby,” he said, cupping your cheek in his hand, “I’ll make sure you get to see them, okay?”

“You will?” You smiled, your heart skipping a beat. 

“Of course I will.” He said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. And the excitement on your face must’ve been obvious because when he pulled away, his smile softened. “You got something to look forward to now, huh?”

You nodded as you wrapped your arms around Noah’s neck slowly, pulling him down into a kiss. 

“You better get us a good view.” You whispered against his lips, and he smiled.

“Only the best for you, sweetheart.”

… 

The trip home was too simple, too easy, you were waiting the entire time for something bad to happen- you flight to be delayed, bags to be lost- but no. It went perfectly. 

You slept most of the flight back, your head on Noah’s shoulder, his arm around you as he read his book. You didn’t have to wait too long to collect your luggage either, and before you knew it, you were sitting in the back of a car, on your way back to your apartment. 

However, this was where it would all change. 

Noah, as usual, refused to let you carry anything. You stepped out of the car and he was already lifting suitcases and grabbing bags. He had parked his car at your place before leaving, so he took his things first, throwing them into the back, before picking your bags back up and making his way up to your apartment. 

“How are you not struggling?” You laughed as he juggled everything. 

“I don’t lift weights for nothing, y'know.” He smirked as you dug through one of your bags for your keys. 

You unlocked the door, and the moment you pushed it open… Noah frowned. You were too busy shrugging off and hanging up your jacket to notice, but the further he walked in…

“Does it usually smell damp in here?” Noah asked, his brows slightly furrowed. 

Immediately, your stomach dropped. Because now he said it, you could smell it too- a stale, damp smell lingering in the air. Like the time your washing machine broke and started leaking while you were at work. 

“No… it shouldn’t.” You said quietly, suddenly panicked. 

Carefully, Noah set your bags down by the wall. 

“Stay there a second.” He said, before walking further into your apartment. 

The living room looked fine, but as he walked into the kitchen, his heart stopped. He called your name, and you followed him down the hallway, the smell getting stronger with each step. 

“What is it?” You asked, but when you spotted him, he was staring up at the ceiling in silence. 

Your heart started racing. The ceiling was stained brown, the paint bubbling in some spots, and in the corner by the wall it was slightly sagging. There were water marks running down the wall, water soaking the counters- 

“What the fuck…” You said in disbelief, taking a step forward. 

“Careful.” Noah reached out, catching your arm. 

Then you looked down. The floor was soaked. 

This had happened here once before, but not to this extreme. Your upstairs neighbour has had quite a few plumbing problems in the time you’ve been here. Thankfully last time you caught it in time before it could get any worse, but you remembered they were currently on vacation in Spain, and you had been gone for four days. There had been nobody to catch it this time. 

“Is that your bathroom?” Noah asked, nodding towards the door. 

“Yeah.” You said as you followed him towards it… 

It was even worse than you could’ve imagined. Paint was peeling, part of the ceiling had bowed downwards, water dripping onto the closed toilet lid. 

You wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling cold and stressed and overwhelmed. This was your safe space, your little apartment, the place you’d been looking forward to returning to after your trip. But it didn’t feel like yours like this. 

“Should we check the bedroom?” Noah asked carefully. 

You didn’t want to. You wanted to leave that door shut and pretend it couldn’t possibly be any worse… but you knew it was going to be bad. So you followed him again, and slowly pushed the door open. 

“Oh...” You said quietly, your heart sinking.

This room was the worst. Part of the ceiling above one side of your bed had collapsed, plaster and insulation all over your floor and bed. The wall closest to the bathroom was soaked, wallpaper peeling away from the wall, and your bedside table was ruined. The lamp sitting on it was tilted awkwardly beneath the fallen debris. 

What the hell had happened upstairs to cause this?

You just stood there, staring at it. Trying to process it. It was like all the excitement of Paris, the shopping, the laughter, the dinners, the joy you had felt, it had all been left on the other side of the ocean. 

Noah took a careful step closer, and after a moment, you felt his hand slide into yours. Your fingers wrapped around his, and then you looked down at them… then back up at him. Your vision started to blur, not because of your home, but because everything had been so perfect… it seemed the universe always hated you having nice things. 

“We'll sort this.” Noah said, his voice calm and firm, the tone he used all weekend whenever your mind started to run away with itself.

“But-”

Noah shook his head, cutting you off. 

“Call your landlord.” He said, and you nodded your head, “I’ll get some photos of it for you.” 

You nodded your head, swallowing hard as you reached into your pocket for your phone. 

“Then you come home with me.” 

Your head shot up.

“Noah, you've just spent all weekend with me!” You laughed in disbelief. 

But his expression didn’t change. 

“And…?”

You folded your arms, staring at him. 

“I dunno. You’ve probably had enough of me.” 

Yeah, that earned you a look. One that told you he’d found what you said ridiculous. 

“So where else are you gonna stay?” He asked, folding his own arms. 

“...I’ll figure something out. I’ll stay with Tom.” 

“Yeah?”

You paused for a moment, remembering what he had told you last week. 

“...Or I would. If his sister wasn’t there.”

Noah let out a chuckle as you dropped your head into your hands. He reached out, sliding an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him. 

“Grab some more clothes or whatever you need, I’ll get some photos of the damage to send to your landlord.” He pulled back to look at your face, “Then I’m taking you home. No arguments.” 

You let out a long sigh. You didn’t want him to feel obliged, like he had to take you in out of guilt or politeness. But a part of you knew it wasn’t that way. He just wanted to make sure you’re okay, to look after you and make things easier. 

“I know what you’re thinking. Stop worrying about being a burden.” He said quietly as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “I want you to come home with me.”

"Okay." You said finally, earning a smile from him.

…

You spent the next hour frantically packing and waiting for your landlord to pick up the phone. Noah took photos of everything for you- the kitchen, the bathroom, the bedroom, the ceilings and the water damage creeping down the walls. Every time you thought he’d finished, he’d find something else that needed documenting.

Your landlord sounded horrified when he finally picked up. Apparently your upstairs neighbour had been impossible to contact for the last few days, and there had been concerns about a leak for a while now, after several complaints were made about a damp smell coming from their floor. But nobody had realised quite how bad it was. 

By the time the call ended, you were told someone would be coming out tomorrow to inspect it, insurance would be involved, and nobody could tell you how long repairs would take. Days, weeks, possibly even longer. You didn’t really hear much after that, you just knew you couldn’t stay here. So you packed some more. 

You packed things that were valuable, things that felt important. You were sure you’d be given the chance to come back and get the rest, but even Noah was telling you to take as much as you could today. He told you he had the room to store things for you if you needed. 

Though every time you added something to your bag, a voice in the back of your mind kept whispering the same thing.

You’re imposing. You’re going to outstay your welcome. You’re going to become a burden. He’s just too kind to say it to your face. 

Noah seemed to sense every single one of those thoughts without you saying a word, because when he found you standing in your bedroom staring blankly at a pile of clothes, he took the bag from your hands and started folding things himself. When you’d tried to carry your own bags back downstairs, he’d taken them too. When you’d apologised for the fifth time, he just looked at you… and that was enough to stop you mid apology. 

Now, thirty minutes later, you were pulling into Noah’s driveway. You were still blown away every time you looked at his house, it was so nice, the garden was so tidy, it was all just so perfect- and this was just the outside. 

“You okay?” Noah asked as he parked the car. 

“Mhm.” You hummed, before getting out. 

This time you insisted on helping him bring things in, since he didn’t only have your things in the car but his own too. So you grabbed his suitcase and poked your tongue out as if to say you can’t stop me and dragged it up the path. 

The moment you stepped inside, you were greeted with the homely scent of laundry detergent and whatever fancy air freshener he had plugged into the wall. You let out a long sigh as you set his bag down, because despite already going back to your place, you finally felt like you were at home. 

However, Noah wasn’t wasting any time. He carefully passed you, and headed up the stairs, carrying all the bags so easily. 

“Show off.” You chuckled under your breath. 

“I heard that.” He laughed from upstairs. 

A smile crept up on your face, and you followed him up the stairs… he had stopped just outside one of the rooms, set your bags down, and turned to look at you with a smile. 

“Right…” 

You immediately became suspicious.

“What?”

He shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Important question, would you rather stay in the guest room…” He gestured towards the door at the end of the hallway, “…or stay in here with me?”

The question caught you off guard, you didn't realise you were going to have to choose. You looked away for a moment, towards the bags, towards the floor- anywhere but him. Because the answer was embarrassingly obvious. 

You didn’t really want the guest room. Not after Paris. Not after falling asleep wrapped up in his arms. Not after waking up to sleepy kisses and coffee and his hand reaching for yours before either of you were fully awake.

The idea of sleeping alone suddenly felt strangely disappointing, and lonely… but at the same time, you didn’t want to feel like you were taking over his place suddenly. 

When you finally looked back at him, Noah’s expression softened, and he could tell what you were thinking through your hesitation.

“Why don’t we at least put your things in the guest room,” he said as he reached for your bags again, “So you’ve got your own space if you need it.” 

The words made your chest ache and feel soft both at the same time, god he was so considerate. He wasn’t pushing you one way or another, he was giving you the option, giving you a space that felt like yours, somewhere you could shut the door and sit by yourself and just breathe if you needed to. 

He pushed the door open and set the bags down by the bottom of the bed. 

“Feel free to unpack, take over the wardrobe and drawers, make it feel like home- you can even redecorate the place if you want.” He chuckled. 

“I’m not redecorating your guest room.” You smiled, “It’s lovely.” 

The room wasn’t huge, but it felt cozy. There was a big bed with fresh white sheets, a rather big dresser, and a window that overlooked the garden. It felt more like a hotel room than a spare bedroom- of course it did, everything Noah owned was unnecessarily nice. 

Noah brought the last of your bags up as you looked around, and despite yourself, you started feeling a little bit better. Sure, it wasn’t home, but you felt comfortable here already. 

“There,” Noah said as he set the last couple bags down, “And if you decide later that you want to crawl into bed with me… I won’t complain.” Noah smirked. 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Who said I want to spend another night with you?” You teased. 

“Hey, you were the one who didn’t want to come home from Paris because you’d miss me too much.”

“I never said that!” 

“Mm, you implied it, baby.” He said, his grin only widening. 

But then, before you could continue the argument, he reached out and gently squeezed your shoulder, the teasing fading a little.

“Everything’s gonna be okay, y’know.” He said, his voice a little softer. “Go unpack, take a shower- use the one in my room if you want, it’s less claustrophobic- and just make yourself at home, okay?” 

You nodded your head. 

“And what are you doing?”

“I’ll be downstairs, either in the studio or the kitchen. Just come find me when you’re done… if you want. Or take a nap, I noticed you were yawning in the car. Do whatever you want, okay baby?” He said with a kiss to your forehead before turning around and softly shutting the door behind him, leaving you standing alone in the guest room.

For a moment, you just stood there, letting the day sink in. Only this morning you were waking up in his arms in Paris, and although you didn’t really want to come home, you didn’t consider that you may not even have your own home to come back to. 

So you unpacked a few things until you found the bag of toiletries you took to Paris, then you grabbed a clean pair of pyjamas and stepped out of the room. Then your eyes drifted down the hallway, towards his bedroom. 

He told you to use his shower, though it felt a little weird… either way, curiosity for the better of you, and you pushed the door open. 

Immediately, you noticed his room felt very Noah. Not because it was particularly extravagant, but actually the opposite. It was clean and tidy without feeling sterile, comfortable without feeling messy. There were black curtains and dark wood furniture, a large bed with navy sheets that looked almost too inviting. In the corner of the room there was a bookshelf filled with books and little figures that you guessed were from a TV show he liked. 

A guitar rested against one wall, and on his dresser there were a couple framed photographs of what you guessed were him and his friends… except when you looked closer at the picture, you realised one of the guys in it had his face, but his hair was almost at his waist. Was that Noah? 

You just took in the room around you, and suddenly you were thinking about how this was the room he’d slept in every night while you were at home. The room he’d disappeared into after stressful days. The room he’d probably spent countless hours lying awake in, overthinking the same way you did.

For some reason, that thought made your heart feel strangely warm.

Then your attention drifted toward his bathroom.

Oh wow…

The shower alone was probably bigger than your entire bathroom at home. You shook your head and laughed quietly to yourself before stepping inside. 

You shut the door behind you, and started to undress. Then you turned the water on and waited a moment for it to warm up, and when you finally stood under it, it felt incredible. 

You definitely stayed in there longer than you meant to, letting the water wash away the unexpected stress of the day. For a little while, you managed not to think about any of it, you just stood there, feeling the hot water wash over you, letting out a long sigh. 

When you finally stepped out, you felt a lot better. You dried your hair, dried yourself and pulled on your tank top and sleep shorts, then glanced at yourself in the mirror. 

You could get used to this… 

Then you took a breath, put your things back in the guest room, and headed downstairs. The house was quiet, and you weren’t sure where to find Noah… but you could hear music coming quietly from somewhere. 

You followed the sound until you reached an open door near the back of the house. This must’ve been the studio. You knocked gently, then you heard him call out, come in. 

You pushed it open, and Noah was sitting at a large desk surrounded by screens, speakers, notebooks and so much equipment that you didn’t even know what half of it was or what it did. As you shut the door behind you, he looked over at you, and a smile crept up on his lips. 

“Hi, baby.”

Fuck, the way he’s been speaking to you lately had been making you feel a little weak in the knees. 

“What are you working on?” You asked as you stepped closer to him. 

“I’ve been trying to get the pitch right on a certain part, I got an idea for it yesterday that I wanted to try, so I told myself I’d try it out as soon as I got back… but it’s still not working.”

You gave a sympathetic smile, and then you noticed his eyes slowly travelling over you, taking you in. 

“Feeling better?” He asked. 

“A little.” You nodded. 

“Good.” Then he held one arm out toward you. “Come here.”

You smiled.

“What?”

“Come here.”

You closed the space, and before you could even ask what he wanted, Noah gently caught your hand and guided you toward him. Then patted his thigh, and your cheeks suddenly warmed. 

“You have chairs.” You pointed out. 

“I know.” 

You tried not to smile, but completely failed. You didn’t even attempt to argue, because quite frankly his lap looked rather inviting. So you carefully settled onto his lap, your legs either side of him, and you felt Noah wrap an arm around your waist. You moved about slightly until you were comfortable, then buried your face in his neck, breathing him in.

Noah and you both let out a content little sound.

“There.” He said quietly, his chin resting gently on the top of your shoulder, one hand holding you tightly, the other navigating whatever project was open on his screen. 

Neither of you said much for a while, you just sat there, letting your eyes fall shut, feeling more at peace than ever before, listening to the music softly playing through the studio speakers, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your chest. After everything that had happened today, this was just what you needed.

Eventually though, Noah glanced at you.

“Comfortable?”

You nodded against his shoulder.

“Mhm.” You hummed, not even bothering to open your eyes. 

A small smile appeared on his face.

“Good.”

And as his arm tightened around your waist, you realised you hadn’t thought about your apartment in at least ten minutes. Which, considering the day you’d had, was probably Noah’s goal all along.

Every now and then, he’d reach for the mouse, or his hand would leave you so he could type something on the keyboard- but other than that, he barely moved. It felt so comfortable, so safe, so nice.

But after a while, your mouth started feeling a little dry. You remembered you’d barely drank anything all day, so you softly wriggled a little and lifted your head from his shoulder. 

“Noah?”

“Mm?”

“Can I get a drink?”

You were more than prepared to get up yourself, expecting him to point you towards the kitchen and tell you where the glasses were, maybe explain where he kept things. But instead, he lifted his brows and gently moved you from his lap to the sofa beside him. 

“‘Course, what do you want, baby?”

A smile tugged at your lips, because of course he wouldn’t let you get up to get it yourself. You were starting to learn these things about him. 

“Just water, please.” You said, looking up at him through your lashes. 

He nodded his head, then leaned down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. 

“Good girl,” he said, casually and quietly, “Such good manners.”

The words had left his mouth so easily that for a moment you weren’t entirely sure you had heard him right… especially since Noah seemed so oblivious to what he had just done, to the effect his words had on you as he disappeared off into the kitchen. 

Meanwhile you were left there in the studio, your brain unable to function properly. It wasn’t even that nobody had ever complimented you before, that was a total lie, but this just felt different. The approval in his voice almost made your head spin, you felt all warm and fuzzy inside in a way you couldn’t quite explain. But there was one thing you knew for certain. 

You liked it. A lot. 

A few minutes later, Noah returned carrying a glass of water, and the moment he walked back into the room, he noticed the look on your face.

“You alright there?” He smirked. 

You blinked.

“Hm?”

“Exactly.” A laugh escaped him as he handed you the glass. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

You quickly took the water, ignoring his comment. 

“Thank you.”

“And there they are again.”

You looked up.

“What?”

“Your manners.” A grin spread across his face. “I like them.”

Your cheeks immediately felt warmer, and you swallowed hard before saying,

“Most people have manners.” 

“True.” He settled back into his chair. “But yours are particularly cute.”

You nearly choked on your water, and Noah’s eyes widened as he spun his chair around to face you. 

“Hey.” He immediately reached over to pat your back. “You okay?”

You nodded too quickly.

“Mhm.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.” You said, popping the p, trying to act casual.

The concern slowly faded from his face, and to make things even worse, it was replaced by amusement. 

“You’re acting weird.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

You deliberately focused on taking another sip of water, and Noah just watched you for a moment… then he slowly narrowed his eyes.

“Oh…”

Your stomach dropped.

“What?”

A smirk started forming on his lips. 

“What?” You repeated, but his smile only widened.

“You’ve gone shy.” 

“I’ve not.”

“You have.”

“Noah-”

“Baby.” The grin was fully there now. “Wanna tell me what’s got you so flustered?”

You didn’t answer that, but you didn’t need to. You knew he already knew. 

“Wanna be a good girl and tell me why you’re blushing?”

“I’m-” You went to speak but immediately stumbled on your words, making you feel even more shy, and making his grin even more smug. 

Oh yeah. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing. 

…

At some point later in the evening, you’d ended up back in Noah’s lap again. Neither of you said anything about it, you’d just gotten cold and didn’t want to go upstairs to grab a hoodie. 

You quickly learned that Noah liked to keep his house at a temperature that felt so low it should be a health hazard, and after shivering through half an hour on the sofa, you’d eventually climbed back onto his lap with a quiet complaint about freezing to death.

His response had been to laugh and wrap an arm around your waist and pull you closer, so now you were curled up against him again while he worked, listening to the soft click of his mouse and the occasional tap of his keyboard.

It was comfortable- he was comfortable, so much that you felt yourself relax in his arms. So comfortable that a yawn escaped you… 

Followed shortly by another, which made Noah glance at you with a small smile. 

“Tired?”

You shook your head.

“Nuh-uh.”

Noah chuckled, knowing that was clearly a lie, and went back to working. But ten minutes later another yawn escaped, a longer one this time. Noah looked at you again, at some point his hand had slid up your top, and his thumb rubbed back and forth against your skin. 

“You wanna go to bed, baby?” He asked. 

The question was casual and gentle, like he was asking you whether you wanted another glass of water… but you didn’t think of it like that. Your stomach sank, because your brain always worked against you, and it was now telling you this was his way of telling you he wanted his space. You’ve been practically attached to him all evening, this was just him being polite. 

However, the logical part of you knew that was ridiculous, Noah had been nothing but kind to you all day. But it was easier to believe you’d overstayed your welcome than believe somebody genuinely wanted you around all the time…

“Yeah, probably.” You said, followed by another yawn. 

He smiled softly.

“Okay.” He said, but then returned his attention to the screen.

Which told you this wasn’t a big deal to him, he was thinking about it half as much as you were. You’d somehow convinced yourself he’d finally had enough of holding you in his lap all day like a clingy little koala, when all he was doing was waiting for whatever he was working on to save before shutting down his computer. 

But still, you carefully climbed off his lap, and you immediately felt how cold the room really was again.

“Night.” You said softly.

Noah looked up.

“Night?”

You nodded before picking up your water, leaving the room, and heading upstairs. 

You were trying not to feel disappointed, not to feel silly, because you had your own room here- a lovely, comfortable, cozy room- which if it wasn’t for him you could’ve been spending the night on Tom’s couch. 

So there was absolutely no reason for your chest to ache as you walked in, no reason for you to miss him while you brushed your teeth, no reason to stare at the empty side of the bed after climbing in. 

And yet, you did. 

With a sigh, you rolled onto your side and pulled the covers up to your chin. You’d spent pretty much every waking moment together for the last few days, of course he’d want some time to himself. 

For a while you laid there in the silence, staring at the wall, until you heard footsteps on the stairs. You couldn’t help but listen, he must’ve wandered into his room and- stop listening, you told yourself.

You buried your face into the pillow, trying not to think about any of it. Trying not to think about the way you’ve gotten so used to falling asleep with your head on his chest, his arm around you, the sound of his heart beating beneath your ear. 

It had gone quiet again for a while, you assumed he must’ve just gone to bed. You assumed he’d be asleep within ten minutes because you had both been up for quite a while now. 

But then you heard footsteps again. Then there was a gentle knock on your door. 

“Are you still awake?”

“...Maybe?”

“Can I come in.”

“Yeah.” 

The handle turned, and there stood Noah- fresh from the shower, dark hair still damp, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips and a black tshirt that fit like it was made just for him. For a moment, he just looked at you lying there in bed, then the corner of his mouth lifted. 

“I was wondering where you’d disappeared to.” 

Your tummy did a stupid flip at that. 

“What?”

“It’s fine if you want your own bed, baby.” He said, his voice as gentle and easy as ever, “But you do know mine’s comfier, right?”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhm.” Noah nodded, “Wanna test it for yourself if you don’t believe me?”

You couldn’t help but scoff. Of course he’d find a way to make you feel better in less than thirty seconds. 

But then your smile slightly faded, and you looked down at the bed again. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, sensing the shift. 

“I thought you wanted some space. I’ve been clung to you all evening.” You admitted quietly, and for a moment Noah was silent. Until he let out a soft sigh. 

“Baby,” he said, making you look up at him again, “If I want space, I’ll tell you, okay? I promise. You don’t ever have to assume, or guess what I’m thinking.” 

It was your turn to sigh now, because the truth was, you spent so much of your life trying to anticipate what people wanted from you before they had to ask. Having to guess what people were feeling, trying to read body language and trying to sense what they were thinking through their tone of voice. 

Noah seemed to understand that without you ever having to explain it.

“Look at me.” 

You met his eyes again. 

“What did I actually say when we were in the studio?”

“You asked if I wanted to go to bed.” 

“Right. And did I say I wanted you to leave? Did I say you were being too much?”

“...No.” 

“Then don’t put words in my mouth, baby. If something is ever a problem, I will tell you.” He said with a soft smile, before holding his hand out to you. “Come on.” 

You looked at his hand, then at him. Then you sat up. 

“You really want me in your bed?”

Noah laughed.

“Sweetheart.” The way he said it made your stomach flutter. “I wouldn’t be in here trying to persuade you if I didn’t.”

You couldn’t really argue with that.

A smile tugged at your lips as you took his hand, and the moment your fingers slipped into his, he gently helped you out of bed. His thumb brushed across your knuckles once before he started leading you towards the door, then down the hallway to his bedroom. 

As he pushed the door open and led you in, you were a little taken back by how cozy it suddenly felt. The curtains were closed, the lamp by the side of his bed made the room glow golden and the smell of his shower gel lingered from the bathroom. 

Noah got into bed first, and pulled the covers back for you, patting the mattress. You chuckled and got in too, and right away you realised he’d been right. The mattress was like a cloud, and the pillows were even nicer than the ones in the hotel in Paris. It put your bed to shame, that was for sure. 

Noah opened an arm, and you rolled towards him, tucking yourself into his chest. Noah made a little pleased sound before wrapping both his arms around you and kissing the top of your head. 

“And I thought I was being the clingy one.” You teased softly, and Noah chuckled. 

“Mm, no.” He said, pressing another kiss on your forehead this time and holding you tighter. 

Then your temple, then your cheek. You tilted your head up, looking at him with sleepy eyes as you let out a little giggle. 

“Noah!” 

“What?”

“You’re proving my point.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said with a small smirk before kissing you again, before finally stopping, and just holding you there like that. “Wanna watch a movie or something? Or d’ya wanna just go to sleep? It’s been a long day.” 

You hummed in thought, just listening to the sound of his heartbeat for a moment before looking up at him again with wide, almost frightened eyes.

“Shit... I forgot I’ve got work tomorrow.” 

“Oh yeah?”

You groaned and buried your face back into his chest. 

“You know, you can always-”

“No. I’m not quitting my job, Noah. It’d drive me insane.” 

You felt his chest vibrate as he let out a quiet laugh. But then he was quiet for a moment, his fingers gently running through your hair. 

“Want me to take you?”

You looked up at him again. 

“You don’t have to.” 

“I know.” 

“You’ll have to get up early.” 

“I know. And I don’t care. What time do you need to get there?”

“...Eight.” 

“And what time do you need picking up after?”

“Noah, you don’t have to-” 

“What time, baby?”

You sighed. 

“We shut at six tomorrow.” 

Noah nodded his head, then kissed your forehead again. 

“Okay.” 

“...Are you sure that’s okay.” 

Noah let out a sigh, then before you knew it, he was taking your face in both his hands. He wasn’t rough, but he was firm, making sure you couldn’t immediately look away. 

“Sweetheart…” His thumbs brushed softly across your cheeks.

“What?”

“What were we talking about five minutes ago?”

You groaned, trying to look away, but he stopped you.

“No,” he said softly, “What did I say?”

“You said if something was a problem then you’d tell me.” 

“Good girl.” He said simply, a smile tugging on his lips, completely oblivious to the way those two little words make your head spin. 

Or maybe he did realise?

He leaned forward just a little, his nose bumping yours, his lips just brushing yours without kissing you. 

“Are you done worrying for tonight?”

You smiled against his lips despite yourself, and gently nodded your head. 

“Yes sir.” You whispered teasingly. 

You felt Noah smile back, before pressing a slow kiss to your lips. Then he pulled back, and pulled the covers a little higher over the both of you before reaching over to turn the lamp off. 

You made yourself comfy on his chest, and he held you close, letting out a soft sigh of relief as his free hand rested behind his head. 

“Goodnight, Noah.” You whispered as you let your eyes finally shut. 

“Sweet dreams, princess.” 

・┈・୨୧・┈・

i desperately need you guys's opinions on something real quick, i feel like i've been soft launching a dom/sub relationship for these two and i want to know if that's something you want to see in this story or not 🤭 i'd love to write it, but it's not something you're interested in then i won't! i know the majority will say yes, but i'm literally velvet!reader i need reassurance that this is a good idea lmao 😭

taglist: @lowergroundfloor @mrslumi @mapsychoticimagination @meddleabout2 @astronoids @pipidoll @bartxnhood @dominuslunae @stardustsirenmelody @haileebluee @curse-bearing-hips @vintagemisery---blog @noahsstrawberry @shuiguans @fadingintothegrey @mushrumink @hayleylatour @death-ofpeace-ofmind @r3prise @novainpolaroids @eclipseeetop @leosunshine @miss570 @ami-gami @sleepycactus-omens @innerconnoisseurhologram @theservantbones @my-perfect-weapon @bassvivz @sullyselena @iamnotyourstoperceive @givemesomethingbeautiful @itsfarbettertolearn @enbytarin @overmydeadbodysblog @yabagoobieberg @museonfilm @wormm-mom @bridemassacre @lifeirreverent @montgomery-929496 @dead-astrid @gayfiretruck @death-core-fairy @icybansheesoul @acatatonicpeace

The noise cancelling headphones on his ears must be exceptionally great because he was completely oblivious to her presence. She walked in, watching the boys through the window without stepping in enough to be seen, as they played their song.

She couldn’t hear a single sound, it was completely quiet, almost eerily so. Based on the way Davis nodded his head along, he heard it though.

Alice smirked and stretched out her leg to gently push his chair, making him yelp in surprise when it rolled back and his face nearly slammed right into the keyboard of his laptop. 

“Jesus Christ!” he swore out loud, looking as though he had seen his entire life play out before his eyes. “You’re an absolute menace!” he accused her when he realized she was there.

There was no bite to it, he got up to give her a quick side hug before sitting back down.

“I didn’t know you’d be coming…?” he said, headphones only covering one ear now. Alice could make out the general vibe of the track like this, but barely.

“Noah’s not expecting me,” she confessed, crossing her arms over her chest, still very much standing out of the way, not stepping in front of the window.

Davis chuckled.

“It’s a one way window, you can sit,” he told her, pushing back the empty chair next to his. “Turns out people don’t like to be stared at while they sing, can you believe that?”

Ironic, but she could understand that it didn’t help their focus at the very least.

“Do you know what day it is?” Alice asked as she plopped down, dropping her bag as well and leaning back with her legs crossed at the ankle.

Now Davis pulled out his shit-eating grin, and she knew that he did.

“Did he forget?” he teased. “Do you need a mic stand to beat him with?”

Alice pretended to look offended and even gasped as if to say ‘I would never do that’.

“Can I bribe you into letting me interrupt your session?” she asked, raising both brows. It had him wondering if she had come here with a wad of cash or if a hooker was waiting on the other side of the door, ready to whisk him away. “If you’re imagining something crass, forget it. I was thinking more in terms of… well, food.”

“Food is good,” he nodded enthusiastically, seeming sold on the idea. “Food is great. I am willing to be bribed with food, yes.”

For a hot minute, Alice stayed silent, assessing Davis, then she leaned forward, putting her elbows on her knees and held out of hand for him to shake. Shit, she wasn’t messing around.

“We’re almost finished anyway,” he told her, already taking off his headphones. “The floor is all yours.”

He proceeded to give her a few pointers on which buttons did what and she listened carefully, taking a mental note. 

“Thanks, Davis. I owe you,” she smiled at him just when he got up to leave the seat to her.

“You do. I expect nothing less than a feast,” he said with a wink before sitting back on the worn couch near the mini fridge, already scrolling on his phone. “But for the record, I’d have let you do it for free.”

“Hey!” Alice protested but Davis only chuckled and shrugged, playing innocent. “I feel cheated.”

Well, a deal was a deal and it was her fault for offering without trying to ask nicely first. She’d learn her lesson for next time.

When she put on the headphones and finally heard what they were playing, she smiled to herself. It was the song that Noah had been stuck on last time. After a couple days off and a bit of goading, she got him to play it for her.

It had much improved since then, the breakdown was incredible, the chorus really strong. Noah screaming curses also did unspeakable things to her in a way she couldn’t quite explain. He swore on a daily basis, but it was casual and he never raised his voice when he spoke to her, so this was a side of him she only got to see on his records. 

Folio was drenched in sweat, a testament to how long they had been here today, while Jolly and Nick didn’t look tired or exerted at all, the very picture of quiet concentration.

Noah stood alone in the middle, dead center, holding onto his microphone in a way that almost made her jealous, pouring his heart and soul out as he belted out the lyrics. For a split second, Alice hesitated to interrupt them. She loved to listen to him sing, and he didn’t do it very often when they were together - perhaps he was still a little shy about it?

But it couldn’t be helped, she had come here for a specific purpose, and she wasn’t going to back down. When the song ended, the last notes still hanging in the air as Noah took in labored breaths, recovering from the performance.

Alice pressed the button that Davis had shown her and her voice came through the speakers.

"That was great ! I don’t think you need more takes, that’s a wrap!"

She had no clue if she was even using correct lingo but it didn’t really matter, because they had all been expecting Davis’ voice and instead heard hers and froze.

The boys all frowned in confusion, half smiling when they recognized her voice. Davis was sniggering behind  Alice, her quiet accomplice.

"That you, princess?" Noah asked with a growing smile, taking off his headphones as well now.

Jolly pretended to puke when he heard the pet name, but Nick smacked him in the shoulder and he turned it into a cough to save face.

"Unless you were expecting someone else?"

He laughed at that and it came out as a derisive snort.

"No, but what are you doing here? Thought we’d meet up much later."

The buzzing of the communication stopped and Alice stepped through the door then, looking cuter than ever, hair curling slightly, wearing cowboy boots and a layered midi skirt. She pretended to look at her phone and be surprised when she saw them, acting out a chance encounter even though she had been the one barging in on their session.

"Oh, would you look at that! What do we have here?"

She turned her phone towards them, the lockscreen on display.

A concert of disparate answers greeted her question.

"Is that a picture of me?" asked Noah, his lips stretching into a smug smile.

"It’s 3pm,” Nick stated, the current time and date written in large letters on the screen.

"Windy and a little overcast?" Jolly tried, looking at the weather widget. 

"Oh shit, Noah you're her lockscreen,” was Folio’s only response.

She waited but nothing else came and she ended up dropping her arm. 

“Nothing?” she asked again.

Alice rolled her eyes and tapped her finger where they were supposed to look, once more shoving her phone into their faces.

Thurs. 14. Feb. It read.

"OOoooh!" They said in realization before it all hit them. 

"Oh shit!" Noah slapped his forehead.

"FUCK, it’s Valentine's Day?" Folio asked, already scrambling for his phone, no doubt to call his girlfriend. 

Nick was laughing at his friends’ faces because he was apparently the only boyfriend in the room who hadn’t forgotten to text his girlfriend today.

“Are you guys serious? None of you remembered the date?” he asked them, not bothering to hide his disgust. “Y’all don’t deserve your girlfriends.”

Noah winced and rubbed the back of his head, sending Alice an apologetic grimace. She knew it would slip his mind, he had been engrossed in songwriting for the last few weeks, barely remembering to eat and sleep, of course he’d been too busy to plan big things for Valentine’s Day.

That was alright, she remembered, and she had time.

"Damn straight," Alice said. "Today Noah is all mine. Consider this a kidnapping."

His face softened at her words, shoulders relaxing when she didn’t show any signs of anger or disappointment.

"Oh don’t worry, princess," Jolly said, using Noah’s nickname for her as he carefully set down his guitar since rehearsal was obviously cancelled. "He's yours every day of the week."

“Who are you calling princess?” Noah huffed, looking over his shoulder to glare at his friend before closing the distance between him and Alice to greet her properly with a kiss.

“Shit, fuck, fuck, shit!” Folio kept swearing as he ran around to gather his things. “I need to take a shower right now and buy some flowers and- shit, fuck, I’m a dead man,” he blabbered on, running around like a headless chicken and rushing out the door so fast they weren’t even able to say goodbye.

They all stared after him, in startled silence before Alice burst out laughing, the others following her lead. Noah stroked the back of her head, pulling her to his chest as he grinned into her hair, breathing her in like a cokehead in need of his fix.

She smelled like her shampoo - citrus and thyme. A smell he had begun to associate with home. He used it when he slept at her place and it made him feel as though she stayed with him a little longer even after he had left.

Nick and Jolly left them alone in the vocal booth then, joining Davis on the other side - they hadn’t even closed the door yet when they began to complain that they really let anybody in here these days and Davis should be more careful about who he opened the door for.

“You’re not too tired, are you?” Alice asked Noah, sending him a blinding smile - not mad, not frustrated, just happy to see him. “I’ve been waiting all day to see you, I didn’t even get to kiss you goodbye this morning.”

Something tugged at his chest and Noah breathed out through the nose as he chuckled.

“Why? Did you book us a Ninja Warrior experience or something?” he teased her. “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

He shot her a smile and winked, drawing another laugh from her. She leaned in until their noses brushed and almost kissed him but pulled back at the last moment.

“How do we feel about a shower?” Alice asked him, scrunching up her nose.

Noah’s eyebrows shot up.

“Are you implying that I smell?” he asked, daring her to say it.

“I’m not not saying it,” she countered, skirting around it. “I’m into the whole sweaty rock star thing, but I also like it when you smell like aftershave and YSL perfume,” she put it very kindly, and Noah could only roll his eyes at her attempt at being diplomatic.

He gave a little pinch to her ass and she yelped.

“Fine, I’ll go home and shower, and then we can go,” he promised, “but we need to be done by eight.”

By eight?

“What’s at eight?” Alice asked, wondering what obligations he could possibly have at that hour that would warrant putting an end to their evening together. 

Noah squatted down to grab his hoodie from his bag, slipped it on and stood back up again, towering over her with his bag on his shoulder. Her eyes followed up, intrigued but not yet upset that her plans were disrupted, even though he knew she must hate it.

Hell, she probably made a spreadsheet for today, depending on what she had in mind. He only smirked at her, enjoying the look of utter confusion and impatience growing on her features, delighting in the fact that he had played clueless well enough to fool her.

“Our restaurant reservation, of course,” he replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and it took her a second to connect the dots. “Did you really think I’d forget?”

“I- I just- well…” she stuttered out, frozen still and apparently speechless. “You didn’t say anything and you were so busy- and…”

“Excuses, excuses,” he chanted, making fun of her befuddled expression. Noah poked the tip of her nose. “I guess now you have no choice but to agree to be my Valentine,” he declared.

“Humph!” Alice scoffed, her face twisting into an expression halfway between a smile and being offended, barely believing her ears. She crossed her arms over her chest, loving the surprise but hating that she fell right into his trap. “Yeah, I guess I don’t.”

“You look thrilled,” he pointed out, laughing at her face.

“You haven’t really asked me, now, have you?” she fired back. “Properly, I mean. Did you think I was going to say no?”

She raised a brow as if daring him to contradict her.

It came as a shock to Noah to realize that, but no. He didn’t doubt for a second that she would say yes; in fact, he hadn’t even stopped to question it. A far cry from where he was at a few weeks ago, emotionally. 

“And I won’t!” he stated, a large smile on his face, looking unapologetic. “You’re my Valentine and I’m yours, that’s just a given!”

He was making it really hard to be mad or even just keep a straight face. She pursed her lips, sucking in her cheeks in an attempt to look like she was pondering the thought - she was definitely giving in to his every little whim too easily, it was bound to get to his head someday. 

Then again, what girl could resist him? He was Noah fucking Sebastian, and his smile only would brighten her whole day.

“I’m still deciding,” she said. “-if I hate you or love you.”

“You love me,” he stated with complete self-assurance. “And I love you.” 

Try as she might, there was no fighting the grin that split her face.

“Fine, yes,” she gave in without much of a fight in the end. “I hope your restaurant is better than mine, because I spent a lot of time searching for the right place!”

She pulled out her phone to cancel, and Noah could barely contain himself when he saw how much it cost her to scrap her plans. He almost felt bad about it, if a part of him didn’t think it was healthy to let go sometimes and just go with the flow. Alice was in desperate need of leaning back and surrendering control to someone else.

“Say it back,” he whispered, mouth grazing her skin and sending shivers down her back, as he grabbed her hand in his and tugged gently. “Please.”

She’d have melted on the floor if he wasn’t holding her.

“I love you too, Noah.”

*

“What do you think they are talking about?” Jolly asked, twirling in his chair as he popped a chip into his mouth.

He had been sitting in the control room with Nick for a solid ten minutes now, watching Noah and Alice through the tinted window like a silent movie. These fools kept smiling and flirting, he wouldn’t be surprised if Noah suddenly started dancing like an exotic bird doing a nuptial parade. Shit, he wished he could read their lips.

“None of our business,” Nicholas said in a bored voice, not looking up from his phone. “You really forgot it was Valentine’s Day?” he wondered out loud. “All of you?”

Jolly turned towards his friend and shrugged.

“Anna and I don’t really care about these kinds of things,” he simply told him, and that truly was a typical Jolly thing to say - he and his girlfriend lived in their own little bubble of anti-conformism. “But Noah?” he snorted. “That boy is obsessed with his woman, no way he forgot.”

That sounded about right, Nick thought. It wasn’t Noah’s style to forget anything, especially not if it was important to the people around him. Alice might not fully realize it yet, but he was completely wrapped around her finger, and there was no way in hell that he’d forget their first Valentine’s Day. 

He’ll deny it in public, but he was a big romantic at heart.

“Did I make a mistake when I gave her this address?” Jolly wondered then.

Nick only laughed.

“Why?” he scoffed, snorting a little. “I always know I’m about to have a good time when she shows up. Either we’ll all be having a good laugh or she’ll rip Noah a new one and that’s equally entertaining.”

“Damn, boy,” Jolly snapped, a little smirk growing on his lips. “You’ve got a mean streak!”

Nicholas shrugged. He wasn’t mean at all, but watching a 6’3” heavily tattooed dude get scolded by his tiny French girlfriend was objectively hilarious.

“When did that ever happen, by the way? Did I miss that?” Jolly continued eating chips, throwing them higher each time to see if he could catch them with his mouth.

“That time when Noah forgot to pick her up and she was stranded at work because he was locked up in here, working.”

Good fun when she had arrived at the house, foaming at the mouth because she had had a long day, waited for 45 minutes on the sidewalk then had to take an Uber. 

“Shit. Kinda bummed I wasn’t there to see that.”

“Noah was white as a sheet, she felt so bad,” Nick said, shaking his head like he couldn’t comprehend how someone could forgot their entire girlfriend.

“You guys know we can hear everything you say right?” came Noah’s voice suddenly, cutting short to their light gossiping.

Even Jolly blushed a little for having been caught red handed, but he recovered quickly.

“Not anymore, you can’t!” he shouted, switching off the microphone.

Noah flipped him off from the other side of the window, even though he couldn’t see them, but his focus quickly returned to Alice who was still in his arms, forgetting about his dickhead friends.

“What did she do then?” Jolly insisted, needing to hear the details. “Does him good being put back in his place from time to time, or his head won’t fit through the door anymore.”

“She deflated quickly actually. I don’t think they have it in them to stay mad at each other for very long.”

“Boring. I expected bloodshed at least.”

There was a pause of quiet contemplation then. Even though they couldn’t hear their friends, they still saw them - talking, laughing, constantly reaching out to graze each other, touching them in mundane ways that were a testament to just how in love they were.

“I’m just happy for them. They deserve each other,” Nick concluded.

And even Jolly had to agree.