Chapter Text
Saturday November 20, 2027
New York
I can feel the flames on my skin, crimson red paint on my lips.
“Tay, baby… you gotta wake up,” Travis said softly.
She was curled up on the couch when he got back, a fuzzy blanket draped over her and the hood from his hoodie pulled over her head. The soft sound of breathy snores escaped her, her mouth slightly open. She looked so cute it almost hurt him to disturb her, but the afternoon was slipping away, and he knew she hated being rushed when getting ready.
“Come on, girl, up and at ’em.”
“Mmm, Trav?”
“Yeah, it’s me. You have a good nap?”
She rolled onto her back, stretching her arms over her head as she let out a loud groan. The blanket, once snug around her neck, slid down and pooled at her waist. Travis crouched beside her, a goofy smile tugging at his lips, and reached out to tickle her armpit. She squealed and wriggled, laughter bubbling out of her. She quickly sat up, and he surrendered, crawling up next to her on the couch.
She yawned. “How long were you gone?”
“A couple of hours. It’s almost three.”
“A couple of hours, my ass, Trav. The last time I checked my phone, it was 12:30, and you’d already been gone at least an hour by then.”
Travis chuckled and pulled her onto his lap. She shrieked in surprise, her hood falling from her head with the movement, and she turned to straddle him. “You know I love a good shopping spree,” he said with a shrug.
“Did you get anything good?”
“You know it,” he smirked. “Got you something too.”
“Oh?” Her eyes lit up.
Travis slid his hands underneath her hoodie, ran them up her bare back. She shivered under his touch and her hips shifted in a way that was so arousing he wanted nothing more than to be inside of her right now. Fucking hell, he felt like an animal.
They’d had sex four times yesterday, or five, depending if they were counting encounters or orgasms. The first time; they’d dangerously fooled around before they had ventured out into the city to check up on tonight’s party planning and then for a quick dinner. And then three times when they’d finally stumbled home, in from the cold and rain. She had to be sore, hell, he was sore. They’d fucked against their front door like horny teenagers, barely able to make it inside before their desires had overcome them. The bed was also witness to three wonderful rounds. That last round though… the handcuffs, the toys, the breath play, the denial games. Jesus fucking Christ, have mercy. He was getting hard just thinking about last night. God damn, he loved New York.
“Yeah,” he gulped. “Might’ve bought you a new dress? I know you’ve already got something picked out—”
“Oh my God, show me!” She slid off his lap quickly, suddenly wide awake and intrigued. She loved when Travis shopped for her, the surprises, the way he’d style her. It wasn’t often; she took great pride in choosing her own outfits for events. Her stylist was incredible too, but Travis? He knew her better than anyone. Maybe even better than she knew herself.
Travis exhaled, tilting his head back against the couch at the sudden relief of pressure on his groin. He groaned when she pulled him up. “Alright, alright. In the kitchen, girl. The bags are on the counter.”
She waited, all attention focused on him as he laid out his finds—ball caps, cologne, a new pack of laces for his favourite boots, a scented candle for Marnie’s stocking. She raised an eyebrow.
“What?” He shrugged. “Gotta get a move on with the Christmas shopping, don’t we?”
“Okay, Santa Claus,” she rolled her eyes. “What else you got?”
He pulled out a few more items, small, thoughtful things: jewellery for his mom, a gift card for his dad, an antique compass for hers. Taylor had to bite back a tear. He was always so damn considerate.
Then, he dug to the bottom of the last bag and pulled out a waxy red jacket with matching wide-leg pants. He held the jacket up against him, grinning like a kid, twirling around.
“Oh, I love that!” Taylor reached across the counter to feel the fabric. “Is this for tonight?”
“Alright, nah. Really? It’s not too much?” he asked, a little uncertain.
“Trav, when have you ever worried about being too much?” She shook her head, grinning. “It’s cool. It’s so you. Actually, I have the perfect shoes to match.”
Travis smiled, folding the outfit neatly and setting it on the counter before leaning down to peck her lips. “Yeah? Then yes, this is for tonight.”
“It’s totally on theme with Crimson.”
“That might’ve been planned,” he winked.
She giggled, rolling her eyes. Hopping up onto the countertop, she swung her legs and took a bite from the apple in the fruit bowl. “So…”
“So?”
“What’d you get me?”
His smile widened again as he reached for the last bag on the floor. The bag’s simple design gave nothing away. No logos, no hints. Taylor leaned forward, practically pining, her fingers reaching for it. She passed the half-eaten apple to him—which, of course, he’d finish—and pulled out the tissue paper from the shiny black retail carrier.
“Oh!” she gasped. “It’s so soft!”
“Do you like it?” Travis asked, watching her eagerly as she pulled the black knit long-sleeve dress from the bag. She held it up to the light, her smile so wide he swore he’d just given her the world.
“You don’t have to wear it,” he continued, suddenly nervous. “I just thought it’d be comfy for you. No worrying about paps catching the wrong angle or people speculating over the tiniest bump. Which, by the way, you don’t have yet! I sized up, got you the small. The girl in the store said it runs—”
“Trav! Trav! Stop,” Taylor giggled, dropping the dress into her lap. “I love it, you idiot. I’m definitely wearing this. This, plus my red-bottomed Louboutins—can you picture it? Oh, we’re gonna look so good together!” She squealed, tugging on his arm until he was standing in the space between her legs. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, girl,” he said, a wide grin on his face. “Love spoiling you.”
Travis knocked softly on the bathroom door before peeking his head inside. Taylor turned from the mirror, smiling, and shook out her bangs with her fingers. He leaned casually against the doorframe, arms folded and ankles crossed, his eyes roaming down the length of her body. He caught a subtle blush on her cheeks when their eyes met again.
“I’m running a little late, I know, sorry.” She turned back to the vanity and rummaged through a drawer for a lipstick. She pulled out two different brands, both a shade of red, and closed them in the palm of her hands, asking Travis to pick one.
“You can be late to your own party, babe. And that one,” he pointed to her left fist. “Drew is getting the guys to heat up the car just now. Take your time.”
Taylor nodded, popping open the lipstick cap and leaning closer to the mirror to carefully apply it. She could feel Travis watching her every movement, and despite her best efforts to focus on her lips, the weight of his gaze kept her attention split. When she finished, she smacked her lips together, and Travis handed her a tissue to blot the excess lipstick.
“Oh, I have you trained well.”
He smirked and waggled his brows. “Eh, more like I know that stuff will be all over my face if you don’t blot.”
“That’s always gonna be the case with red lipstick, Trav. Hate to break it to you,” she laughed, clicking the lid back onto the lipstick. She glanced at the name on the bottom: Forever Passionate. A small smile tugged at her lips as she tucked it into her small handbag, then adjusted the crystal fringes back into place. “You look handsome.”
“And you look beautiful. The dress is a nice fit.”
“Yeah?” She twirled for him, and he whistled lowly, moving across the bathroom and reaching for her hips.
“Saw your ass cheeks there, girl,” he groaned. “You’re killing me.”
Taylor giggled, squirming in his arms when his lips met her neck. He sucked her skin, teeth sinking in, and she wrapped her arms around his back. “Oi, don’t you dare leave a mark. I already have tiny little bruises from your hands on my neck last night.”
Travis pulled his mouth away from her neck, standing up straight again with a guilty look. “Oh, yeah. Shit. Sorry!”
“Don’t be. I loved it,” she smirked, her voice teasing. “Come on, Stud. Let’s get going.” She playfully smacked his chest before stretching up on her tiptoes to kiss him. Even in her highest heels, she still felt so small next to him.
Taylor stepped out of the car first, instantly engulfed by the scent of petrichor. The air was fresh and musky, carrying that distinctive city smell after rain had poured down on the urban landscape. She could already hear hushed whispers and see faint flashes of cameras in her peripheral vision. She paused, waiting as Travis hopped out of the car, adjusting his t-shirt and jacket quickly. With a small nod of her head, they took each other’s hands and followed the cobblestone path to Electric Lady Studios. The flashes were blinding, and the misty rain created a haze, blurring the bright lights around them.
“Watch your step, baby,” Travis murmured, guiding her through the open doorway of the building.
The music pulsed louder with each step they took, the bass lines vibrating through the walls and deep into their veins. A member of Taylor’s PR team opened the door to one of the studios, and they ducked inside, immediately caught up in the electric atmosphere.
The room was bathed in dim red light, mirror balls glittering from the ceiling and reflecting the dizzying array of red metallic balloons and fringed backdrops. A sparkling red neon sign on the far wall spelled out CRIMSON. To one side of the room was a makeshift bar, topped with fancy stemmed glasses filled with red-themed liqueurs. A large photo booth stood next to an array of instruments, and Taylor caught a glimpse of high heels and shiny black brogues peeking out from behind a curtain, the occupants inside clearly having a good time.
“The one, the only, Taylor Swift!” The crowd cheered.
Taylor’s heart swelled, and she glanced up at Travis through misty eyes. He winked at her before removing her coat, passing it off to an attendant with a grateful smile. The moment they entered, they were embraced by a wave of welcoming hugs. Handshakes and pleasantries flowed as they greeted friends and colleagues. So many of their closest friends had made the effort to attend—producers old and new, several of Taylor’s management team, stylists, PR staff, and even her managing assistant, Erica.
Tree Paine was the next to greet them, opening her arms wide and pulling them both into a tight hug.
“Bet you didn’t think you’d see me here!” Tree teased.
“Tree! You little sneak!” Taylor laughed.
“I wouldn’t have missed it, sweetie. Lance and Lux are here too,” Tree gestured to her husband and daughter, who were sipping red cocktails in the corner. Taylor and Travis waved at them, smiling.
“Thank you so much for coming, T. It means so much.”
“Hey, girl!” A familiar voice pulled Taylor from the crowd. She squealed, hopping up and down, before throwing her arms around the woman.
“Gigi! Oh God, I’ve missed you, babe!”
“What’s up, man?” Travis clapped Bradley, Gigi’s husband, on the back.
“Oh, I’ve missed you too, Tay. How the hell have you been?”
“Amazing. Life is so good.” Taylor smiled brightly. “What are you drinking? That looks tasty.”
“Strawberry Daiquiri. Come on, we’ll get you one.” Gigi pulled on Taylor’s arm before she could protest. Taylor glanced over her shoulder, sheepishly smirking at Travis as he and Bradley followed closely behind. They weaved in and out of the crowd, heading straight for the bar.
“Actually, G,” Taylor stopped Gigi just as she asked the bartender for two Daiquiris and two Jack and Cokes. “Make mine virgin.”
“Bit late for that, Tay!” Gigi scoffed, then quickly added, “Sorry, terrible joke. Uh, since when did you turn down a good rum-based cocktail? I know it’s not vodka but—wait. SHUT UP! Taylor! You’re pregnant?!”
A matching squeal rang out from behind, sending a vibration through the air. “What?!”
Taylor spun around, her hands instinctively holding onto Travis’s arms to move him out of her line of sight. And there she was—tall, tanned, blonde, and with that sparkling smile.
“Blake?!” Taylor gasped. “No way! Girl! You said you couldn’t come!”
“You’re pregnant?! Tay, oh my God!”
They both tried their hardest to mingle separately throughout the night—engaging in conversations, catching up with old friends, agreeing to make dinner plans, and inviting several people to their gender reveal party in the new year. However, there was a magnetic force that kept pulling them together as the night unfolded around them. The haze of drunken slurs, the sounds of friends and colleagues dancing and singing in the middle of the studio, filled the air. Jack and his wife, Margaret, poked fun at Taylor as she excused herself to find Travis. Esté and Danielle, her most treasured girlfriends, stumbled drunkenly out of her path when she pressed sweet kisses to their cheeks, before turning back to the makeshift dance floor, red cups raised above their heads.
Taylor bee-lined straight for him, her vision doubled by the twinkling lights, her cheeks flushed a soft rose. His eyes sparkled, lighting up as soon as he saw her strutting toward him.
“Hi. Missed you.”
She giggled and circled her arms around his neck, planting soft kisses on the corner of his lips. “Mmm, missed you too. You drunk?”
“If I say yes, will you be jealous?” He pinched her butt playfully.
“A little,” Taylor pouted. “But, no, actually. Those virgin daiquiris are nice. Here, try it.” She unwound herself from his embrace, angling the straw from her glass to his lips.
“Ugh, Tay. No. You know I hate anything bitter and strawberry like that.”
“Please. Just one sip.”
Travis rolled his eyes but took a long sip anyway. He scrunched his face up, his brows furrowing. He smacked his lips together, sticking his tongue out. “It’s okay.”
She shoved at his solid shoulder and shook her head. “You’re such a dramatic baby.”
“Mmm, but I’m your dramatic baby.” He nuzzled her neck, pulling her body flush with his, sighing at the wonderful feeling of her body pressed to his.
“Always.”
“Love Birds! Come get in here!” Ryan, Blake’s husband, bellowed from behind the photo booth curtain.
They both stumbled into the photo booth, laughing and giggling with their dearest friends. The party buzzed on for hours more. Taylor debuted Crimson on the music production setup; the red-hot songs resonated with the same fiery energy that matched the scarlet decorations around the room. The crowd danced and sang loudly, posed for group photos, and participated in juicy drinking games. Taylor and Travis FaceTimed the kids back home before their bedtime, giving them a tour of the party setup. The phone was passed off to several others who gushed their hellos.
Later, with smudged lipstick, rumpled clothes, and red lipstick stained kisses on his neck, they teetered out into the late New York night, giggling on a rush of serotonin. God, their love was so endearing and captivating. What a perfect crimson night.