#valstravisworks

the whole drive back is wrapped in that soft kind of quiet that only comes after a night almost too good to be real.

not awkward quiet, there had never really been awkwardness between the two of you, not even in the beginning when friendship was new and fragile and still learning its shape. with him, silence always felt lived in, full instead of empty. and tonight, after your first date, the first real date, after years of being you two in every way except name, it feels sweeter somehow. heavier, too. charged with everything that had finally been said.

it still makes you smile when you think about how it happened.

how one of his endless rambling sessions had somehow turned into a confession.

he’d been pacing, hands moving wildly like they always did when he got worked up, bouncing from topic to topic in that charmingly chaotic way only he could pull off. something about coincidence and fate and how statistically speaking it was insane that one person could become your favourite voice, your favourite laugh, your favourite person to call when literally anything happened, and then somewhere in the middle of it, he froze.

blinked.

looked at you like he’d accidentally stepped off a cliff and said, quieter this time,

“...oh. shit. i’m in love with you.”

just like that.

and when you'd laughed softly and said, “yeah, same” the look on his face had been something you'd keep tucked inside your heart forever. wide-eyed disbelief melting into this bright, boyish smile that made him look almost shy somehow, despite being a man who could talk to a brick wall and somehow get the brick invested in the conversation.

tonight had only made everything better, because of course the date went well.

of course it did.

you already knew each other, knew how he always held doors open without thinking, how he got distracted mid-sentence when something interesting caught his eye, how he talked to strangers like old friends, how his laugh came from deep in his chest, rich and warm and contagious.

and most of all, you knew how he loved to talk.

loved to ramble, loved to let every thought tumble free without stopping to catch it. but with you it was different, with you, he softened into it.

because you listened, really listened. you always had.

and he loved that. loved the way your eyes stayed on him, how you'd ask questions, how you'd laugh in all the right places, how you'd remember little things he'd mentioned weeks ago in passing. with everyone else, his rambling was just noise filling space.

with you, it was something cherished.

now, in the dim glow of the dashboard lights, his large hand rests warm and steady on your thigh.

it had landed there almost absentmindedly halfway through the drive, like touching you was already becoming instinct.

his palm is broad, fingers long. every now and then his thumb strokes, slow, thoughtless little movements that make your stomach flutter every single time.

his other hand stays on the wheel while he talks quietly about something random. he’d somehow circled into talking about old diners and whether pancakes taste better at midnight, but his voice has gone softer now, sleepier, full of contentment.

and every few seconds he glances over at you and smiles.

that smile like he still can't believe this is real.

when he pulls up outside your house, neither of you rush to move.

the engine clicks softly as it cools, streetlights cast everything gold.

then travis lets out a small breath, unbuckles, and says, “well, obviously i’m walking you up.”

you grin. “obviously.”

his hand finds yours instantly.

he walks beside you up the path, he’s done it a hundred times before but tonight everything feels different. the brush of his shoulder against yours, the way his thumb keeps tracing over your knuckles, the quiet smile he wears like he can't hold it back.

at your door, you both stop.

for once, for once in his life, travis has nothing to say. he just looks at you, really looks at you like he’s memorising every piece. then he gives this small, nervous laugh and rubs the back of his neck with his free hand.

“can i kiss you?” he asks, voice low, almost shy. “cause i’ve been trying to play it cool for like... the last three hours, and honestly i’m losing that battle pretty badly.”

your smile comes easy.

“yea” you whisper.

and the way his face lights up soft, relieved, happy, it makes your heart ache.

his hands come up, big palms cupping your face so gently it almost undoes you.

careful, like you're something precious.

his thumbs brush your cheeks once then he kisses you.

sweet at first. slow. the kind of kiss that feels like a promise. warm lips, lingering softness, the quiet little breath he lets out when he finally gets to have this, gets to have you, like it’s something he’s wanted for longer than he knows how to explain.

you melt into it, hands gripping lightly at the front of his jacket.

his hold on your face shifts just slightly, fingertips sliding into your hair, and the kiss deepens. not rushed, just fuller. hungrier in that breathless way that comes from wanting more than sweetness alone, from months or years of quiet longing finally having somewhere to go.

it steals the air right out of you.

when you finally part, neither of you go far, your foreheads rest together.

his nose brushes yours.

and when you open your eyes, he’s already looking at you. smiling that soft, helpless smile.

completely gone over you. completely smitten.

“wow,” he murmurs, laughing quietly under his breath. “okay. wow.”

you laugh softly too.

his eyes flick to your mouth again, like he physically cannot help himself and then he leans in and gives you one last quick kiss.

just a little peck, tender and full of affection. like he needed one more, like leaving without it was impossible.

when he pulls back, his smile turns warm and crooked and so unbearably sweet.

“goodnight” he says softly, still holding your face in those big hands for one extra moment. “dream about me a little, kay? not to be arrogant, but i’m probably gonna be dreaming about you a lot.”

you laugh, cheeks warm.

and standing there under your porch light, with his forehead brushing yours one last time and that lovestruck smile still on his face it feels easy to know this is only the beginning.

and it feels even easier to know it’s going to be perfect.

-

ꪮ౿ꪮ౿ꪮ౿

he still looked at you sometimes like you were something unreal, like if he blinked too hard, you might disappear.

one second travis would be in the middle of one of his long, winding rambles, something about his neighbour’s dog, how it apparently had a personal vendetta against him and only him, how it somehow knew when he was carrying groceries, hands moving as he talked, eyes bright, words tumbling over each other in that way they always did. and then mid-sentence, like the thought hit him all over again, he’d just stop.

completely stop.

his eyes would flick to your mouth, then back to your eyes, all wide and warm and almost disbelieving, and then he’d lean in and kiss you like he couldn’t help himself.

quick at first, soft, sweet, but somehow every single one left him looking more dazed than before. he’d pull back only slightly, staring at you with that crooked, boyish grin, all wonder and quiet awe, like he’d just gotten away with something miraculous. and when you smiled, when you laughed, light and bright and beautiful, that was it for him.

gone.

utterly gone.

his whole face softened, eyes turning embarrassingly fond, heart practically visible in them as he looked at you like you hung every star in the sky by hand.

later, when you got up to grab something from the kitchen, you barely made it halfway there before you heard his footsteps trailing after you.

“travis-”

“sorry” he said immediately, not sounding sorry at all.

then his arms were around your waist from behind, chin dropping onto your shoulder, holding you close like being near you was as natural as breathing. he just stood there, swaying slightly with you in the kitchen light, pressing absentminded kisses against your shoulder, your neck, wherever he could reach.

“know this is clingy,” he murmured, voice muffled against your skin, “but in my defence, you’re very lovable.”

you laughed softly, leaning back into him, feeling him smile against you. that big, goofy smile he always got around you, like he still couldn’t believe his luck.

by the time you finally settled down to watch a movie, it took genuine effort to get him quiet for longer than thirty seconds.

even then, he couldn’t stop touching you.

your hand rested between both of his while he sat tucked against your side, gently pressing kisses to your knuckles every few minutes, smiling into your skin like it was some private secret. every now and then you’d catch him staring instead of watching the movie. openly, shamelessly staring. looking at you like he was memorising every little thing.

and when he inevitably started whispering some nonsense in your ear halfway through, commentary that had nothing to do with the film and somehow circled back to conspiracy theories about expensive olive oil, you reached up and covered his mouth with your hand.

his eyes lit up immediately.

without hesitation, he stuck his tongue out and licked your palm.

you squealed, jerking your hand back with a horrified laugh, wiping it on his shirt while he nearly folded in on himself laughing, breathless and delighted, eyes crinkled at the corners.

“that is disgusting” you said, shoving at his shoulder.

“and yet,” he said, pulling you right back against him, grin hopelessly lovesick, “you still like me.”

then quieter, softer, pressed against your temple like a confession, “still don’t know how i got this lucky, though.”

and the way he held you after that made it painfully clear he meant every word.

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