#djolemodel

“Morning, baby.” He whispers, his voice slightly groggy.

“Morning, Joe.” You whisper back with a sleepy smile, entering a relaxed state. No matter what, Joe’s touch could always ground you. After a few beats of staring at each other in silence, your brain finally clicks on. “Baby. Where is the baby?” You ask in a more panicked tone, trying to sit yourself up on the bed. Your eyes are glancing around the room, your heart rate picking up as anxiety crashes over you.

“Hey, hey. Slow down, baby. Take a deep breath in and out for me, nice and slowly.” He says with nothing but gentleness in his tone, his voice so soft that it could probably send you back to sleep.

He leans forward, taking your hand in his and placing it over his heart so that you could feel his heartbeat. You close your eyes, taking slow breaths in and out, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath your hand. Joe was very good with his words and actions. It wasn’t common for him to struggle to help you, he actually found it incredibly easy to soothe you.

“There we go, good girl.” He whispers, stretching his words out. “If anything urgent happened, I would tell you right away. Aveline is in the cot on the other side of your bed.” Joe says with a sweet smile on his lips.

You slightly turn your head to see Aveline asleep in her cot beside your bed, and your shoulder immediately drop. A sigh of relief leaves your lips, and all the worry leaves your body.

“Did we get skin to skin contact? I can’t really remember anything that happened last night. Everything feels like a blur to me.” You say with a small laugh, turning to look at Joe.

“You definitely did, baby. One of the cutest things that I’ve ever witnessed.” Joe says with a proud smile, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your lips. “You fell asleep after a couple minutes of skin-to-skin contact, you were absolutely exhausted. Could tell you were tired. Makes sense after how stressful it got.” He whispers against your lips, staying close to you as if he’s scared to move away.

“I wasn’t expecting to have an emergency c-section. All I could do was panic that something was wrong with the baby or something was going to go wrong.” You sigh, pressing your lips onto Joe’s.

“Speaking of the c-section, are you feeling okay? After you fell asleep, they fed me with information. Are you in any pain at all? Uncomfortable?” He asks, resting his forehead against yours.

“It’s a little uncomfortable, but it’s not necessarily painful.” You say, sliding your hands into Joe’s hair. You watch as his face completely softens, closing his eyes. A soft hum of appreciation leaves his lips.

“Let me know if it gets painful at any point. They will give you painkillers to help if needed.” He whispers, his eye lashes fluttering as if he’s trying to force himself to stay awake.

Your eyes flick over his face, counting the moles and watching as his eyelashes flutter against his cheek. He looks so beautiful, even if he’s an absolute tired mess.

“How much sleep did you get?” You ask, a hint of worry in your voice.

“Maybe like.. 2 hours?” He says, sounding so unsure it’s like he’s asking both you and him.

You give him a knowing look, raising your eyebrows, slightly shaking your head. “You’re an idiot, Joe Keery. Why didn’t you get much sleep?” You ask, more concerned that angry.

“First of all, I was worried that you would need something in the middle of the night and I wanted to be alert at all times. Secondly, this chair is insanely uncomfortable. I feel like my ass is going to fall off.” He mumbles, sounding annoyed at himself.

A laugh leaves your lips, pulling a pout from him, though he isn’t angry at you. Not one bit. You could never get over his puppy eyes; they definitely did something to you. He buries his face into your neck, a quiet, tired grumble leaves his lips, vibrating against your skin.

“You’ll be back in our comfy bed soon, baby.” You grin, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the top of his head. “You can go to sleep, y’know? There are sofas in this room too.”

“I couldn’t move the sofa over to the bed, so the chair was my best option. My back is killing now, though.” He sighs, shifting his head to your shoulder.

“Did they mention how long we need to stay here for?” You ask, eager to get out of the hospital as soon as you can. The bed in your house was calling your name too; you couldn’t deny it.

“They told me you’d most likely be here for a day, just to recover from the c-section and check that everything is okay. They put emphasis on the resting part, baby, so you’re staying right here and accepting all the help that you’re given. No buts.” He grins, pressing feather-like kisses to your skin.

“Oh, my worst nightmare.” You say sarcastically. “I guess I can’t actually go home if I haven’t recovered, so just this once I will accept the help. Only because I want to get into bed.”

Joe laughs, lifting his head from your shoulder. “Me and you both, baby. I know this isn’t like a fancy hotel, but for people that are supposed to be staying here for at least a night, it’s not very comfortable.”

You laugh and turn your head again to look at Aveline. She’s still asleep, her eyelashes fluttering every few seconds. “I can’t believe she’s finally here after all the stress. She’s gorgeous.” You whisper. “You’re a daddy now. She’s going to love you so much.”

Joe smiles, his eyes flicking between you and Aveline. “You’re going to be the best mummy to Aveline. I’m still shocked that she’s here. Our little family.”

“I love you, baby.” You whisper, leaning up to press a sweet kiss to Joe’s lips.

“Hey, stop trying to sit up. What did me and the nurses say about resting?” He laughs, jokingly scolding you. “I love you, baby. I’m incredibly proud of you for getting through the night. It was so incredibly stressful, and you were really brave about it. Strongest woman that I know.” He whispers, pressing gentle kisses all over your face.

A yawn leaves your lips, the tiredness washing over you again. “Hey, you should go get a pillow or two, and bring them over so you can get some sleep.”

He gives you a small nod, quickly getting up to grab a pillow from the sofa across the room, and sitting back on the chair, placing a pillow behind his back and one behind his head.

“Get some sleep. Don’t worry about me. I promise you’ll need the sleep more than you think.” You whisper, resting your head on the pillow, your cheek smushed.

Joe reaches for your hand to hold whilst you both go to sleep, wanting to be as close to you as possible, even though he couldn’t sleep beside you, at least not until tomorrow. You fall asleep with the comfort of Joe beside you, and Aveline to your other side. The three of you sleeping all at once was going to be something that wouldn’t happen frequently, so you relax whilst it lasts. Your little family.

You had woken Joe up with slow, lazy kisses, the type of kisses that said that you’d rather stay in bed for longer, but you had things to do. Before he frantically got himself dressed for breakfast, he mumbled sweet words against your lips, telling you how gorgeous you looked even though it looked like you rolled out of a bush. He earned an eyeroll from you, grinning and pressing a quick kiss to your lips before dashing off downstairs.

Even though you were fighting to keep your eyes open, you managed to unzip your makeup bag and take everything out. Getting sleep and going to Coachella were two different things on the same level, picking one was hard, but one you could get back, and the other you couldn’t. That was the only thing keeping your eyes wide open.

It was Coachella, so of course you were going all out for it. Your words to Joe last night before you fell asleep mid chat were ‘I want to look like I just swam in a sea of glitter’, which of course, you stuck to. The brush gently glided over your eyelids, applying the most gorgeous, golden glitter. The soft glow from the sun seeping from between the blinds highlighted the sparkles on your skin, and you couldn’t help but feel giddy. You gave Joe a rough idea of what you were going to wear, and he had no idea what he was in for seeing.

The door makes a soft clicking noise, opening slowly, as if Joe was being hesitant, checking that he wasn’t getting a behind the scenes of your look for Coachella. You wanted to surprise him, it was something small, but he complied of course. He closed the door behind him and freezes in his spot, letting his eyes flick all over your body. His tongue flicks out to wet his lips, looking speechless.

A laugh leaves your lips, soaking in his reaction. Joe makes a beeline for you, the biggest grin forming on his lips. He crouches down in front of where you’re sat, gently and hesitantly taking your face in his hands as if he’s scared to ruin your makeup. The way his eyes keep flicking over you is something that you want to repeat over and over again, he was never afraid to show what he’s feeling.

“Holy shit.” He laughs breathlessly, finally taking a breath out that he didn’t know he was holding in. You couldn’t deny the flutter you felt in your chest. It was like you were experiencing the first time you and Joe met all over again. “You look so gorgeous, so stunning. You’re unreal baby. I just— wow.” He grins, shaking his head as if he’s shocked that he’s sat in front of you right now.

“Why thank you, baby.” You laugh, combing your fingers through his hair. A soft sound leaves his lips, one that raises goosebumps on your arms. “I had a feeling that you would like it. I mean, it’s Coachella, I wanted to go all out for it.”

“I fucking love it. Here I am, probably turning up in jeans and a tank top, possibly a bandana if I think that I look too plain, and here you are looking gorgeous. I mean, baby, you’ve left me speechless. There’s so much I could say about you right now.” He grins, letting his head drop to your shoulder, his unsteady breaths tickling your skin. The way his shoulders bounce up and down every breath has you wondering if it’s all the running about that he’s done, or if he’s got himself all worked up.

“I can always dress you, baby. You can wear jeans and a tank top, but jeans are probably not the best to wear, especially in the heat. It’s going to be hot today.” You whisper, sliding your hands through his hair, feeling his heartbeat against you.

“I would really appreciate that. You’re here looking like this, so I’m not going to decline that offer at all. I trust that you’ll have me wearing something fitting for Coachella.” He grins against your neck, sliding his hands up your back. “You look so good, baby. If I pass out, just know it’s not because of the weather.”

“Joe Keery.” You laugh, stilling your hands in his hair. “I think you’re being a tiny bit overdramatic. It’s just an outfit.”

“But it’s you, baby. You can make anything look good. You could probably wear a trash bag and still look good in it.” Joe laughs, muffled against your skin.

“You’re such an idiot.” You roll your eyes, but there’s no anger in your tone. Nothing but affection. “You gonna get dressed? We’re going to need to leave soon, I want to beat the crowds as best as I can.” You ask.

“Soon.” He mumbles, clearly not wanting to get up from the comfortable position that he’s in right now.

“Joe.” You sigh.

“Hm?” He asks, acting clueless.

“Coachella. Less than 2 hours away from starting. Has that clicked?” You ask.

“Can we just.. have our own Coachella in here instead?” He groans, lifting his head from your shoulder.

“Come on, Joe. I am not missing out on the music, especially for today’s line up. Prepare to be dragged around all day. I want to see as many artists as possible.” You whisper with a sweet smile.

“Want to stay here with you though.” He mumbles, his eyes practically closed.

“Okay, but you get to walk around with me at Coachella. It’s not like I’m going to disappear into thin air.” You laugh, leaning down to press a slow, lazy kiss to his lips.

A frustrated huff leaves his lips, pulling a grin from you.

“Once the day is over, we’re coming back here. Just get through the day, and then we are back in this room. Doesn’t sound too bad, does it?” You ask.

“That’s like forever away, but fine. I guess I can live with that.” He sighs.

“Good. Now get yourself dressed, I’d like to not be stood right at the back of the crowd.” You whisper.

Joe stands up, pulling you up with him. He’s got the most stupid grin on his face; you just want to kiss it off him. “Can we have like 5 more minutes, please?” He asks, slipping his hands slightly under your top, tracing small, gentle patterns on your skin.

“Okay, but don’t get too off track. Coachella is waiting for us.” You sigh, giving in.

“Yes ma’am. Time me if you need to.” He grins, pulling you down onto the bed with him, wrapping you up in his arms. You couldn’t deny that you needed this. Your routine with Joe was all over the place now that you weren’t back at home.

“I love you.” You mumble, melting into his touch.

“I love you, baby. You look so gorgeous. Spotlight is going to be all on you. I’m so lucky, this is actually insane.” He whispers, pressing feather-like kisses all over you.

You may have slightly went over the time you had decided with everyone, but it was definitely worth it. You and Joe exchanged soft whispers, and quiet ‘I love you’s every so often, and you were right where you needed to be. Wrapped up in Joe’s arms, preparing yourself for the chaos and stress that you were about to endure at Coachella.

You slip out of bed, feet patting against the cold, wooden floor before you gently push the bathroom door open, almost hesitant. Your eyes land on Steve, sat beside the toilet, looking pale and all teary-eyed. His hand is clutching at his stomach, shoulders moving up and down with every heavy exhale that leaves his lips. He blinks up at you, drowsy, slow, giving you that sweet, guilty look that tells you he didn’t want you to see him like this. All vulnerable and weak, but really, you’re glad that he hasn’t even kicked you out.

A slow breath leaves your lips, eyes glancing around the bathroom like you’re assessing the situation. After a few moments of listening to the air conditioning whirring, you’re the first to speak. “How long have you been in here for?” You ask, sitting down in front of him.

He sighs, keeping his eyes on the floor. “Maybe like, 10 minutes?” He says, like he doesn’t know himself. “I have thrown up twice now. I’m actually going to die.” He mumbles dramatically.

“You didn’t wake up to tell me because?” You ask, stretching out the last word.

He stares at you blankly. “That’s a really good question. You know, I’d just love to answer that.” He says with a sarcastic smile. Seems that even through him being sick, the sarcasm still sticks no matter what.

“Hilarious.” You mumble, rolling your eyes. “I’m going to go get you a glass of water, and you’re going to rest. You’re not going to complain, and you’re going to accept my help.” You say, leaving no room for any complaint that was about to leave his mouth.

When it came to Steve being in a vulnerable situation, he did everything he could to hide it from you or play it off as something small. It never worked on you, because you knew what was really going on inside his head. He refuses to be open, about pretty much everything, he says that it’s ‘embarrassing’. The first time he tried to hide from you, you had him all figured out. Someone at some point said something to him, made him feel weak, and now he rejects help.

He groans at your words, but he’s too tired to try change your mind and argue with you. “It’s not like I can’t move around. I can sort myself out. Didn’t want you coming in here to see me looking like a weak man.” He grumbles, letting his head fall back against the wall.

Before you slip out the bathroom, you stare at him for probably a second too long. “We’ve been together for nearly 3 years, can promise you nothing is embarrassing. I’d rather you be open with me instead of shutting yourself out.” You reassure him and make a beeline for the kitchen.

Your movements are quick, almost like you’re being timed. You grab a glass from the cupboard, turning the tap on, checking the water is cool enough before running the glass under it. The tap makes a slight squeak when you turn it off, and you head back to the bathroom.

Your feet pad across the bathroom floor, passing the glass to Steve and sitting down in front of him again. “Drink up, baby.” You say, sweet and gentle. “I’m going to make you a chicken soup for tomorrow, your favourite. Should help a little with the stomach pains, and it’ll be easier to get down.”

“Tomorrow?” He asks, raising his tone. A small grin twitches at his lips as he downs the water in one go.

You huff and roll your eyes. “You know what I meant, Steve.”

He places the empty glass down beside himself, focusing his attention on you. “Should be a nurse, y’know? Think you’d be pretty good.” He suggested, slowly blinking at you, the drowsiness clearly taking over him.

“I think there’s way more to being a nurse than giving you water and planning to make you a soup, baby.” You laugh, brushing the pad of your thumb over his cheek. He leans into your touch like a puppy, his eyelashes fluttering.

“Still. You take good care of me.” He mumbles, half-asleep.

“Wish that you let me do this more, Steve. I prefer for you to let me help you instead of pushing me away and refusing help when you know that you need it.” You say, eyes flicking over his guilt-ridden face.

A quiet, slow sigh leaves his lips, like he’s mentally going over what he wants to say. He looks like he’s physically trying to hold himself back, like saying the words would make him weaker, softer. Everything would become more real if he admitted his feelings, and he just didn’t want to admit the truth, not even to himself.

“I just—” He pauses, his lips forming a straight line as he thinks. “I don’t want to seem weak or soft. I should be the one that’s taking care of you, not the other way around. Whenever you help me, I have to admit that I’m weak, and I don’t want to.” He mumbles, trailing off.

You stay completely silent as he speaks, listening to every word and taking mental notes. “You’re not weak for needing help, baby. It’s okay to be taken care of every once in a while, even every day.” You whisper reassuringly, combing your hands through his hair.

He sighs, almost in defeat, like he can’t even attempt to disagree with you. A soft hum leaves his lips, and that’s all you need to hear.

“I’m going to bring blankets and pillows in here so we can sleep. I’d rather you be in here just in case you feel the need to throw up again. Not the comfiest place, but it saves me from needing to clean up.” You whisper, pressing a sweet, gentle kiss to his forehead before standing up. A relieved sigh leaves his lips, like he’s been waiting for you to kiss him forever.

You walk back into the bedroom to pick up your pillows and some fluffy blankets to make it comfortable for Steve. The sweet scent of the lavender detergent that Steve claims to hate because it’s ‘too strong’ lingers in the room, yet he buys it anyway. You carry the pillows and blankets back into the bathroom, settling them down on the floor to make a comfortable space for him.

“I know sleeping in the bed is better, but just for tonight. Don’t need to travel far if you feel sick again.” You say gently, opening the blanket for Steve to get under. He complies without a word, laying down beside you as you get warm under the blanket.

“What if I end up getting you sick too?” He asks, genuine concern written all over his face.

“You’ve most likely already given it to me, Steve. There’s no way of me getting out of it anyway. Name one time that we’re actually apart for a long period of time.” You laugh, gently brushing your hands through his hair.

“That is a good point, baby.” He says, cheek smushed against the pillow. His hand brushes over the top of your arm, gentle, lazy. “Can’t wait for that chicken soup, actually. My mouth’s already watering.” He grins.

“Oh no. Please don’t tell me you want me to make it for you now. I’m about to fall asleep.” You dramatically whine, pulling a laugh from him.

“Don’t be surprised if I wake you up at six in the morning asking for chicken soup. You’ve promised me it now, can’t go back.” He mumbles, pressing his lips to the top of your head. He’s sick, but you can’t bring yourself to care because it was bound to spread to you at some point.

“Shouldn’t have said anything.” You laugh, shaking your head. “Let’s get some rest baby, promise you’ll really appreciate it when you wake up in the morning.” You whisper, tangling your legs with his, getting as close as physically possible to him.

“I love you, baby.” He murmurs with a yawn, letting the sleep wash over him.

You press a gentle kiss to his cheek, resting your head on the pillow. “I love you, Steve. Wake me up if you need me.” You mumble.

The next few hours are mostly quiet, Steve waking up once to tell you he needs more water. His breathing steadies, synchronizing with yours. You can see the soft look on his face, less tense than he was before. Waking up at 4 in the morning was worth it, because he’s slowly starting to open up with you. Sleep you could get back, but hearing Steve being so vulnerable was something you wouldn’t. For now, his small confession was all that was needed.

Your eyes are heavy, cheek smushed against the pillows as you click on the notification. It was only a matter of time before the sleep crashed over you again. A huff leaves your lips, eyes flicking over the message, rereading it over and over again until your brain can make sense of the message. Your breathing suddenly hitches, placing your phone back down on the nightstand.

The image of you and Joe innocently walking down the street with Aveline being pushed around in her stroller burns into your mind. Every time you blink, the image circulates in your mind. You had given birth to Aveline not even 2 weeks ago, and paparazzi had already taken photos of you all together without you noticing. You’re frustrated. Not because you went out with Aveline in public, but because paparazzi have zero respect and basic human decency towards people who don’t always want to be in the headlines.

You rub your hand down your face, turning over to face Joe. A quiet sigh leaves your lips, eyes flickering over his moles, tracing over them like a dot to dot. He’s got that soft look on his face, that one that says he’s probably chasing the dream he’s having, wanting to draw it out for as long as possible. The thought of waking him up when he looks so comfortable has the guilt washing over you, but with the thoughts taking over your brain, you needed to tell him.

“Joe?” You whisper, gently brushing the pad of your thumb over his cheek, your hand trembling.

A quiet sound leaves his lips, and he moves himself closer to you under the sheets, tangling his legs with yours, almost subconsciously. The small smile that creeps on his lips has your heart fluttering, even through the stress.

“Baby?” You try again, pressing your lips to the top of his head.

He mumbles, half-asleep, but aware. “Mm. What’s up? What time is it?” He yawns, eyes still closed as he presses himself even further against you, chasing the warmth from your body.

“Early.” You say, the guiltiness dripping in your tone.

Without even needing to open his eyes, he notices. He always notices. Any change in tone or mood, he knows right away. You don’t need to say a word, and he can pull the words from your mind. It’s like he spends his free time reading you, knowing you, wanting to know your ins and outs. He knows how it feels to be understood, so he makes sure that you never doubt his love for you.

“Hey,” He starts, pressing his lips to your neck. “Don’t worry, you could wake me up at any time, even if it was just to kiss me, and I wouldn’t mind. Talk to me. I’m all ears, just not eyes.” He says with a laugh.

You let a shaky breath escape your lips, slipping your hands through his messy hair. Your movements are uncoordinated, almost as if you’ve forgotten how to function. You’ll just put the blame on the postpartum brain fog.

“Caroline messaged me.” You start, giving yourself a second to breathe before the words fall from your lips, basically holding your breath. “Paparazzi took a photo of us, including Aveline, a few days ago. I had no idea they were around and I feel awful. I just— we were going to keep her away from the public eye as best as we could. They could’ve at least respected our privacy. Now pictures of her are on the front of headlines. We didn’t even get to announce that she was born, they did it for us.” Your voice breaks, tears pooling up in your eyes, threatening to fall. “I’m so disappointed.”

His arms come around your waist, enveloping you in his warmth and love. The sweetest, and most gentle kisses are pressed to your head, causing a tear to slip. He gently slips his hand under your silk pyjama top, tracing soft circles on your skin.

“That’s so frustrating.” He says with a sigh, and you can tell he’s frowning without even having to look at him. “They’re so greedy for money. If they see anything that would be worth something to them, they will take a photo, no matter if they’re invading privacy. It’s all about the money for them.”

“I wanted— I really wanted her to be safe from this sort of stuff. She isn’t even 2 weeks old and has been exposed to paparazzi.” You choke out, dropping your head to Joe’s shoulder, letting your tears stain his shirt.

“We should be able to walk around without our every breath being captured and posted online.” He huffs, sliding his hands into your hair, grounding you.

“I wish I did more to cover her face.” You say with a defeated sigh.

“We shouldn’t have to. It’s not our fault at all.” He whispers into your ear.

You lift your head from his shoulder, blinking up at him for a moment as if you’re memorising every second of this moment. A small smile twitches at his lips.

“We can still do the baby announcement, our way. I’m not letting your idea get scrapped just because of some headlines.” He says, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

“I love you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You mutter between kisses, pulling a laugh from him.

“I love the idea. There’s no way it’s being scrapped.” He says with a laugh, pulling you closer to his chest. “Let’s forget about the news for a while, you need sleep, don’t want you getting all sleepy throughout lunch again.” He whispers.

“Mm. Yeah. Need at least a few minutes of sleep.” You mumble, eyelashes fluttering as the sleep washes over you.

“Few hours. I’ll keep an eye on Aves and make sure that she’s okay. Don’t you worry about her. Need you to get some good quality sleep, mama. My turn to take full care of her today. Sleep.” He whispers, watching as your breathing slows down and synchronises with his.

The comments on your social media waited for you, but you pushed that thought to the back of your mind. No matter what anyone was to say about Aveline, you were going to make sure that nothing ever hurt her. Joe spends the rest of the morning half-asleep as his hands glide through your hair, watching over you and whispering sweet words into your ears. He presses a few kisses to the top of your head before slipping out, walking around the house with Aveline, turning the kettle on and taking care of her so that you could get some rest.

You shuffle on the floor, pushing yourself up into a sitting position to lean your back against the wall, letting your head flop backwards. “It hurts to think. I feel like my brain has been crushed.” You say, more to test how your words came out.

He huffs out a breathless laugh. “That’s how I felt when you were explaining that movie to me.” He pauses. “I still don’t get it.”

You shake your head, rubbing your fingers against your temples. “It wasn’t that hard to understand. I think I was pretty clear with my words.” You groan.

“I’ve got whatever drugs they gave me in my system, have some sympathy.” He murmurs, shuffling to lean against the toilet.

With everything lapping over each other, what happened with you and Steve with the Russians was pushed to the back of your mind, and you hadn’t put much thought into it at all. The buzz in your body had you feeling more alive then ever, and you were grasping onto that.

You hum. “Okay. Ask me questions then. I’ll do the thinking.”

“Like what?” He asks.

“I said you ask me the questions, not you ask me a question.” You grin, brushing your hands over your knees.

Without needing to look at him, you can tell he’s rolling his eyes, and the thought alone makes you laugh.

“Okay. Uh. Would you rather have hands for feet or feet for hands?” He asks with a chuckle, sliding his hand through his tangled hair.

An amused laugh leaves your lips, and you almost want to question him, but that would defeat the purpose. “Wouldn’t the correct answer be hands for feet? That just makes more sense.”

“You tell me.” He mumbles.

“Well, if you had feet for hands, you wouldn’t be able to function like a human being. You wouldn’t be able to feed yourself or hold a pen.” You say, blinking at the wall of the stall in front of you.

“How would you walk with hands for feet?” He asks, pausing for a moment. “Walking on your feet is easier.”

“I mean, you could crawl?” You say, but you don’t sound sure yourself.

“That’s not normal though.” He laughs.

You drag your hand down your face. “Nothing about your question was normal.”

He goes quiet for a moment, tapping his hands against his thighs. “You’re not wrong. What if the floor was hot though?”

“I guess you’d just have to wear gloves, or just not move at all, that’s easier.” You trail off. “Ask me something else.”

“When was the last time you lied to someone?” He asks.

You laugh, exhaling. “Like, yesterday.”

He sits up straight, snorting. “What, why?”

“A customer asked me if we had any millionaire shortbreads left, but it was the last one left, so I told him no. He walked away disappointed and had no idea that I ate it after we closed for the day.” You grin, the laughs flowing from your mouth.

“Oh my God. That’s cruel.” He laughs.

“What? It looked good.” You breathed.

“I can’t blame you, really. I do that all the time.” He smiles, tilting his head back against the checkered wall, letting his eyes flutter shut.

The room is filled with your laughter for a while, mostly because once he started laughing, it set you off too. It dies down after a few moments, and you sigh, looking up at the ceiling as you think.

“Okay. My turn to ask you a question.” You say, and you can hear Steve shifting in the other stall.

“As long as you’re not going to make me think too much into it.” He groans.

You hum, going silent for a moment. There are so many questions that you’ve been trying to push yourself to ask Steve, but you never had the courage to ask. With the high you were still feeling, it felt like the only chance to blurt something out.

“Have you ever been in love?” You ask breathlessly.

He sighs loudly, and you almost want to take it back, assuming that you hit a rough spot.

“Nancy Wheeler.” He says, and he almost sounds defeated.

“God. Wasn’t expecting that one.” You pause, looking down at your hands, a slight bruise appearing. “Rough one, hm?”

“Yeah, pretty rough.” He murmurs.

“Do you still love her?” You ask.

He’s quick to answer. “No.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Shocker. You sounded a little unimpressed. Why not?” You ask.

“I spent a while thinking over it, y’know. I was so blinded by her, that I didn’t realise I had everything right in front of me.” He laughs, shaking his head.

“What are you saying?” You ask.

“I mean, this girl is just something.” He says breathlessly. “She’s not what I expected, but I think that’s what I like the most. When I first saw her, she was nothing like what I thought she’d be. So, when we started talking to each other, I was shocked. She’s everything that I never knew I needed.” He admits.

You go silent and listen to him ramble on, pinching the bridge of your nose as you try puzzle together what he’s saying.

“She’s nothing like me or my friends, in fact she’s even better. I like that about her. She’s got all these goals for life, and she’s sweet, and she has this sarcastic attitude to herself, but I love it.” He grins. “I didn’t think I’d get so close to her. She seems like the type of person to hate me, and I wouldn’t even question her about that. I mean, we just escaped Russians together. Couldn’t be more insane than that.”

He trails off, staring down at the floor. You scoot your knees up against your chest, resting your chin on your knee, letting out a shaky exhale. After the silence had gone on for too long, he knocks on the stall wall, calling your name.

“Hey, you still with me? Don’t tell me you’ve passed out.” He groans.

You sigh. “I’m more awake than ever, don’t worry.”

The next thing you see is Steve’s scuffed trainers coming under the stall, and he slips into yours, sitting opposite to you with that stupid grin of his. You laugh and shake your head, flopping your head to the side, looking at him after what has felt like hours. It’s been a while since you’ve looked at him and not have your vision blur on you, he looks more himself than ever.

“The girl sounds nice.” You whisper.

“She’s definitely sweet.” He grins.

You hum, slowly blinking at him. “So, escaping Russians together, hm? I’m jealous, what a lucky girl she is.”

He breathes out slowly, slipping his hand through his hair. “Think you should be saying that I’m the lucky one.” He pauses, leaning in closer to you, closing up the space between you. “What do you think of this guy then?”

A warm smile twitches at the corner of your mouth. “Well, he’s an idiot for starters.” You laugh, and he just nods along, not disagreeing with you. “He talks a lot and probably has no idea what he’s saying half of the time. His lips move before his brain does, but he’s really funny, and I think that he can be really sweet.” You pause. “Sometimes.”

“He sounds like a great guy.” He nods.

You gently swat his arm, though there’s no anger in your tone or your gestures. “Don’t let this boost your ego. I think there’s one thing about him though that he needs to work on.” You add.

Steve raises his eyebrows, leaning closer as he listens in. “What’s that?”

“He needs to shoot his shot. Think he spends too much time pissing about.” You admit, letting your eyes flicker from his eyes down to his lips, still split and bloody.

“Maybe that’ll change.” He whispers.

“Then he should do that, starting now.” You whisper.

His hand comes to rest on the side of your face, and his thumb brushes over your cheek. He wastes no time leaning in, pressing his lips to yours in a desperate kiss, like he’s been physically holding back for months. Even through the desperation, he’s still gentle, keeping himself aware of your sounds and your movements.

Your hands slide into his hair, gripping strands between your fingers, pulling a groan from his throat. He presses himself against you, giving you no personal space. You’re pressed to the wall, panting against his mouth. For the first time you’re kissing Steve, it’s not in the best setting. The taste of his lips is metallic, and if this was anyone else, you’d be pulling away, but you couldn’t help but lean in more.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispers against your mouth.

You roll your eyes. “How romantic.”

He slowly pulls back, grinning. “Definitely not the most romantic place I’ll be kissing you, but at least we can check this one off.”

“Why, where else are you planning?” You ask with a laugh.

“Enzo’s. Once we are out of here, anyway.” He brushes his thumb over your bruised lip, a slight hint of concern washing over him.

“Trying to impress me already?” You ask, raising your eyebrows.

He grins. “Of course.”

“It’s definitely working.” You whisper, sliding your hands through his hair, your mood completely softening up.

“That’s my plan.” He mumbles, burying his head into your shoulder, letting the tension in his body relax.

It may not have been the best place to open up, especially when you’re sat on a bathroom floor together, only just aware of what you’re saying, but you didn’t know if or when this could happen again. Not long after, Dustin and Erica come barging through the door, offering you and Steve a concerned look as they glance at each other. They’re completely clueless to the conversation you had before, and they just roll their eyes.

“We’re not even half-way through the movie and you’re already getting sleepy, huh?” He asks, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, gentle and soft.

Your eyes snap open, lifting your head up. “No, no. I’m awake.” You mumble with a lazy smile, pressing a gentle kiss to his jawline.

“You don’t look very awake.” He whispers with a grin. “Y’look like you could blink and fall into a deep sleep.”

You glare at him, but there’s no real anger in your tone. “I was just resting my eyes, that’s all.” You murmur, though he’s completely right.

He doesn’t believe you for one second, and he gives you that familiar, all-knowing look. His thumb brushes over your cheek, and he leans down to press a sweet, slow kiss to your lips. “I think you need to find a better excuse, because you use that one every time.”

You let out a dramatic huff, sinking further into Joe’s arms. He envelopes his arms around you, bringing you as close as possible to him. The steady sound of his heartbeat thumping further relaxes you, and the tension in your shoulders completely disappears.

“We’re going up to bed, and I don’t want to hear any buts or trying to change my mind. You’re very clearly tired, so I’m not letting you force yourself awake just to watch a movie.” He whispers, leaving no room for you to argue with him.

Everything in you wants to argue back, claiming that you’ll stay awake to watch the movie, but he’s right, you’re too tired to say anything, and he won’t believe you. After a moment of silence, you give in to him, nodding weakly. You weren’t ever going to admit out loud that you were tired, but Joe was right, every single time. He stands up, lifting you into his arms, letting you loosely wrap your legs around him before he carries you to the bathroom to get you ready for bed.

He settles you down in the bathroom on the ground, and you tiredly lean your back against the sink. If he was to help you when you weren’t tired, you’d probably be glaring at him and telling him that you’re not a child. You’re too tired to argue, and it’s nice to be taken care of, even though you’d never say it out loud. He guides you to brush your teeth, and you can’t help but feel a little giddy, pulling a laugh from him. Whilst you’re washing your toothbrush, Joe turns on the water, checking that it’s the right temperature before holding a cloth under it. He gently holds your face in his hand and rubs the washcloth on your face.

“This actually feels quite nice.” You whisper, letting your eyes flutter closed as you let him wash your face.

He hums to himself, taking mental notes. “What, the washcloth or the fact that you’re letting me help you for once?” He asks, but he already knows the answer, he just wants to hear you admit it.

“Good question.” You mumble with a grin twitching at your lips.

“Think you should let me take care of you more, you seem to be really enjoying it.” He says with a teasing tone and places the washcloth back.

“I’m not a child, I can do things on my own, baby.” You mumble.

“It’s okay to want help every once in a while.” He pauses, flicking his eyes over your face. “Let’s get you into bed before you end up using the sink as a pillow.” He says, pulling a laugh from you.

Joe brings you close to his side, walking you into the bedroom, letting the door close behind you with a soft click. The room feels smaller, like everything outside doesn’t matter, and time moves slowly in here, more comfortably. He walks over to the wardrobe, searching for a soft, fluffy pair of pyjamas for you to get into. You sit down on the edge of the bed, watching as he mumbles to himself whilst he tries to find the perfect pair for you. He makes a beeline for you, holding a pair of pyjamas in his hands.

You don’t say anything, and you start to take off your shirt and jeans, because he would probably make a teasing remark at you that would most likely be very true. He silently watches you with that sweet look on his face, the one that shows how much love he has for you. He helps you put your pyjamas on, slipping the fluffy top of your head, and guiding your legs to step into the bottoms.

He helps you to slip under the sheets, and joins in beside you, immediately pulling you close to his chest. His fingers gently card through your hair, and the sleepiness kicks in more. Your eyelashes start to flutter, and he leans down to press a kiss to your lips. It’s uncoordinated, lazy, and he can’t help but laugh as he notices how tired you really are.

“I’m not going to keep you up any longer.” He whispers. “Get some sleep, you’ll thank me in the morning.”

A quiet hum leaves your lips. “I feel bad that we didn’t get to watch the rest of the movie.” You say with a guilty look on your face.

His face completely softens, and he blinks down at you. “That’s okay, baby. We can finish the rest of the movie off tomorrow. The movie can wait, but your sleeping can’t.”

A quiet yawn leaves your mouth. “I love you.” You mumble.

“I love you, baby.” He whispers, pressing another sweet kiss to the top of your head.

He spends the next hour holding you close to him, checking that you’re not trying to keep yourself awake. His hands glide through your hair, and he listens to every soft breath that leaves your lips. He whispers sweet promises against your hair, making sure that you never doubt him.

You shake your head, a shaky sigh leaving your lips. “My feet are aching and I feel like my heels are burning.” You mumble, resting your head on the pillow of the sofa.

He gently lifts your foot up, checking your heel to see if there are any marks. It definitely looks painful, and he can’t help but frown. “Okay, I’m going to go get a plaster for that blister. I’ll also get you a glass of water too.” He whispers, pressing a feather-like kiss to your knee, looking into your eyes.

“I’m fine, Joe. It’s not like I have a headache or anything. I don’t need anything.” You huff, refusing to accept any help from him, crossing your arms over your chest.

A quiet laugh leaves Joe’s lips and he shakes his head. “I’d rather you not be dehydrated, baby. Trust me, you’ll appreciate it in the long run.” He says, standing up and making his way into the kitchen before you can deny him again.

Your head feels like it’s spinning, like when you’ve been playing a game for so long that when you finally move your eyes away, it’s strained and the room feels like it’s moving. Time starts to feel like it’s non-existent more than a concept. It’s like everything is moving slowly and quickly all at once, the type of feeling you get waking up from a fever dream. A quiet whine leaves your lips, the ache in your head progressively worsening.

Joe comes back in with a glass of water and a plaster, sitting close beside you. He places the glass of water up to your lips, gently holding the side of your face with his other hand. “Drink up, baby.” He whispers, guiding you to slightly tilt your head back. Drinking water is a basic human function, but with how clumsy you are when you’re drunk, it’ll end up slipping out of your hand and pouring all over you. The ice water is cool against your throat, further helping you to relax.

“Any better?” He asks, bringing the glass away from your lips, and a droplet of water drips from your chin. He swipes it away, his eyes flickering over your face. His hand comes up to your flushed cheek, checking your temperature like it’s a reflex.

“Mhm.” You nod weakly, eyelids heavy as you force yourself to stay awake.

He notices you trying to lift your head up every few seconds, like he always notices, and scoops you up into his arms. “You’re going to end up straining your neck, baby. Let’s not add anything else to tomorrow’s hangover.” He mumbles, carding his hands through your hair. “You’re going to bed.” He says, leaving no room for you to deny him.

“I’m literally not tired, Joe.” You roll your eyes sleepily, your eyelids closing for a second before forcing them back open.

He raises his eyebrows, watching as you practically drift off into a light sleep. “You’re so stubborn, baby. I really do love you.” Joe says with a laugh. “You look like you’re about to say lights out any second now.”

You want to argue back, but you know that Joe’s right, so you keep yourself quiet. Your head drops to his chest, completely melting into his warmth. His arms envelope around your waist, lifting you up into his arms as he stands up. Instead of denying him and trying to protest, you just let him carry you, accepting that you do really need his help and you’re too sleepy to protest anyway.

Once he has settled you down under the sheets, he places your glass of water on the bedside table and peels the backing off the plaster. He gently smooths down a plaster onto each one of your heels and settles your feet back down, crawling into bed beside you and bringing you closer to his chest. A quiet sigh leaves your lips, nestling your head comfortably against the pillows, looking into Joe’s eyes.

“You have brown eyes.” You state as if Joe doesn’t already know that. “They’re really pretty.” You whisper, a small grin twitching at your lips.

“Yeah, you think so?” He asks, gently slipping his hand under your shirt, letting his warm hand splay out on your back, completely grounding you.

You nod, and he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, tasting the bitterness of the alcohol still lingering on your lips. A soft hum leaves his lips, clearly enjoying the kiss more than he probably should. Your hands comb through his hair, grinning against his mouth.

“I love you, baby. Get some rest, you’ll be thanking yourself for it tomorrow.” He whispers, tangling his legs with yours under the covers, getting as close as he can physically get to you.

“I love you.” You whisper, curling up into his arms.

He spends the rest of the night sliding his hands through your hair as soft breaths leave your lips. Whenever you shift or twitch in his arms, he soothes you with a few soft kisses on your head. The morning waits for you, and so does your complaint that your head hurts as soon as you wake up. Although it’s predictable, Joe can’t help but feel the warmth bloom in his chest, knowing that he will be able to comfort you through your hangover. Eventually you would wake Joe up with a soft whine, but he would do it over and over again just for you.

When you hear the door finally open with a click, you don’t move to run to Joe like you usually would. Letting him feel your absence felt right, that way he could feel exactly how you’ve felt for the past five hours. He still calls out like he usually does, a gentle ‘baby, I’m home’, but you don’t respond, letting the distant murmur from the TV fill the space.

His footsteps pad into the living room, and his eyes land on you, curled up on the sofa under a blanket, staring blankly at the rug. He pauses in front of you, crouching down so that you have no choice but to look at him. Your eyes slowly trail to his face, not blinking once.

“Baby?” He says, gently brushing his thumb over your cheek, completely oblivious to how you’ve been waiting for him for hours.

You squint your eyes at him at his clueless state. “What?” You glared, the words coming out harsher than you intended.

He slightly moves backwards as if your words physically pushed him away. “Hey, what’s got you so irritated, baby? Are you tired?” He asks.

A breathless huff leaves your mouth, and you shake your head. “Tired? Really?” You laugh. Your tone filled with sarcasm. “I’ve stayed awake for hours, waiting for you to come home.”

He furrows his eyebrows, sitting back on his heels. “Baby, I never asked for you to stay awake for me. You could’ve gone to sleep hours ago. You didn’t need to keep yourself awake.” He says with a genuine tone, but you take that the complete other way, too pissed off to listen to any word he says.

“I would’ve gone to bed, but you promised me this morning that you would come home and watch the movies with me, so I stayed awake.” You huff, slowly sitting yourself up on the sofa, curling your legs beneath you.

“I never promised you anything, baby.” He sighs, and you can tell he’s getting increasingly more frustrated.

“Yes you did.” You retorted.

“I said I would, but the word promise never left my mouth.” He says, dragging his hand down his face.

“Exactly, so you still said you would. You never even texted me to tell me that you weren’t going to be home on time, I would’ve appreciated that a whole lot more instead of leaving me here confused without answers.” You say, slightly raising your tone without realising.

His breathing hitches, and he stares at you blankly for a moment, then he scoffs. “I’ve been working hard in the studio baby, and it has been really stressful for me. The least I want from you is for you to just be understanding and know that sometimes I can’t be home on time. Yes, I’ll try my hardest to get back as soon as possible for you, but that’s not always going to happen.” He says, trying to give you his reasoning, his tone raising the more that he speaks.

“I understand that it’s stressful, but you could at least just message me.” You mumble, avoiding his gaze.

“Then you don’t understand if you’re wanting me to message you when I’m obviously so clearly in the middle of writing music, desperately trying to get everything completed so that I can go home and relax for at least a few hours.” He groans.

“Crazy that your girlfriend just needs some communication, isn’t it?” You say sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

“Fucking hell. Did you not hear anything I just said?” He snapped, and his words very clearly hit a spot as they came off as insensitive to you.

“It takes like ten seconds max to tell me that you won’t be able to make it home on time. I’m sure in the time that you spend waiting for everyone to set up to start recording, you can message me.” You mutter, shaking your head.

“It’s not easy like that, and you would never understand that.” He glares, the stress finally collapsing down on him. “You don’t ever have to stay up late, stressing about production and being in a room full of noise for hours straight. It’s unbearable.”

“Ten seconds. That’s it.” You repeat, letting your head fall back against the plush pillow on the sofa.

“You just don’t ever listen, do you?” He laughs breathlessly, blinking around the room.

Being heard and listened to by other people is something that is so important to you, especially because that was a privilege. Life never came easy for you; you had to learn a whole spoken language alongside the sign language. Speaking became a little easier when you finally got hearing aids, and hearing yourself for the first time was something so unfamiliar that you never expected to ever hear. Growing up was just as hard, because every word you tried to communicate felt like it got lost halfway through the sentence. Children never understood, and not knowing what people were saying about you felt hard but also relieving at the same time. You automatically tuned out.

Through your own frustration, you knew why Joe was stressed, and you did understand that, but what you couldn’t understand was how he wouldn’t take a few seconds from his time to tell you that he couldn’t be on time. You carefully take the hearing aids out, and the silence that followed was completely unfamiliar, something that you haven’t been used to. It wasn’t often that you ever took them out, you hadn’t taken them out for the purpose of blocking peoples voices out for years.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Joe tense up, staring at you blankly. He’s never seen you take out your hearing aids, never because of him. You slip off the sofa, walking straight into your bedroom and slipping under the covers. You set your hearing aids on the bedside table before resting your head on the pillow, completely settling into the silence. The silence wasn’t something you wanted, because all you wanted was to hear Joe’s voice, but through the frustration, you didn’t want to listen to what he had to say.

A slither of light slips into the room after a few minutes, and you don’t bother to look back. Joe rounds the bed, coming over to your side and kneeling in front of you with the guiltiest look. His eyes are glassy, like he’s been crying, but you don’t mention it, you don’t comment on anything at all.

He gently taps your arm to gain your full attention and waits until your eyes are on him. He points to his chest and follows that sign by placing his fist on his chest, going around in a circle, signing that he’s sorry. You weren’t sure if him apologising set you off, or if it was that he learned sign language for you, but a sob rips from your throat. His arms come around you, shuffling under the covers with you.

His hands comb through your hair, holding you close to his chest. His breathing is unsteady and you can tell by the way his chest shudders and his tense shoulders. You stay in his arms for a while, letting his thumb gently rub circles on your side. It felt best not knowing what he sounded like right now, because you knew it would completely kill you even hearing him sound so upset.

After your breathing steadies and slows down, you lean over to pick up your hearing aids, gently pushing each one into your ears. The first thing that you hear is his breaths, heavy and unsteady, and his rapid heartbeat. He slowly blinks at you, and he’s quick to speak, like he’s running out of time.

“I’m so sorry. I’m really sorry, baby. I was the one that wasn’t listening properly. I shouldn’t have said any of that. You’re right, baby, I should be communicating with you if there’s a change to plans. There’s nothing stopping me from messaging you and letting you know. I feel sick knowing you took your hearing aids out because of me. I’m so sorry.” He practically rushes out, his eyes flicking over your face as if he’s looking for any sign at all that you’re okay.

“I’m going to end up taking it out again if you keep talking.” You roll your eyes, though a small grin twitches at the corner of your lips. He nods at you, immediately going quiet.

“I just need you to listen to me, Joe. That’s all I ask. I really do understand that you’re stressed, and I understand that you need to stay in the studio longer because of that, but I can’t read you like that.” You say, slowly trailing off.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry. Your point makes way more sense than mine.” He sighs, letting his head drop to your neck, breathing in the faint scent of your floral perfume.

“It’s not about anyone’s point making more sense, because they both do. I just would’ve been happier knowing that you bothered to message me and let me know you weren’t going to be back for a while.” You whisper.

“I will do that next time.” He promises, gently slipping his hand under your shirt, brushing his hand over your back.

He lifts his head from your shoulder, and you stare at him for a moment, longer than necessary. “You learned sign language?” You ask.

“It’s only the simple things that I’ve learned, but yes. More of a just in case thing, like if you ever forgot your hearing aids.” He whispers.

“Or if I just need to shut you up.” You laugh, pulling a grin from him.

“That too.” He mutters.

“I won’t do that again. I realised I was a bit harsh, and that’s not something you should get used to. Just needed quiet for a moment.” You admit, a slow sigh leaving your mouth.

“I felt sick seeing you taking them out. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you take them out for the purpose of being upset.” He says with a guilty look, and that alone tugs at your heart.

“I haven’t done that in a while. When I was younger, I’d take them out during class when people were being loud or being rude to me.” You whisper.

“Now I feel even worse about it.” He groans, letting his forehead press against yours.

“Don’t. Nothing you could say could be worse than what they said about me.” You say, gently slipping your hands into his hair.

“I love you so much. Feel free to take out your hearing aids any time I piss you off.” He laughs, pressing a slow, gentle kiss to your lips, a silent promise.

You completely relax into the kiss, letting him guide you through it. His hand rests on the back of your head, keeping you as close as possible. “I love you. Thank you for learning sign language, I thought I’d say.”

“You don’t need to. That should be a given.” He mumbles.

“Not really, I don’t use sign language that often.” You whisper.

“Just in case.” He says with a warm smile, and he kisses you again, slowly, carefully, doing anything he can to make it up to you.