July 17, 2016
Leicester, 5:38 a.m. .
“Tristan.”
A whisper. Fingertips brushing his shoulder.
“Tristan, can you get up?”
He stirred. One eye cracked open. He was on his side of the bed, his side, for once, spine curved toward the edge, not curled around her like usual. It felt wrong. But he didn’t dare shift too close last night.
It hasn’t even been a full day since she finished her endometriosis surgery. So they weren’t taking any chances with him accidentally cuddling her too tight.
Barbara’s voice came out groggy, muffled by the pillow. “Can you grab the… paracetamol?” she said it in an British accent. “My side feels like I got tackled by a rhino.”
Tristan blinked at her voice. “Wow. Look at you. Saying paracetamol like a true local.”
Barbara let out a groan. “If I’d said Tylenol, you’d have called me American and made fun of me for a week.”
“I would never mock you,” he said dryly, already pushing off the sheets. “Just tease you until the end of time.”
She smirked into the pillow. “So... mocking me.”
He leaned over, kissed her forehead gently. “Warm water?”
“Yes, please.”
He padded out of the room, still half-asleep but smiling.
Barbara stayed propped up against the pillows, blanket bunched around her waist. The faintest wince pulled at her mouth when she adjusted.
Tristan returned a moment later with the bottle and a glass of warm water.
“Here.”
She took both with a grateful sigh, popping two pills into her mouth and drinking slowly.
“Sorry for waking you,” she murmured. “I waited like twenty minutes. Thought I could tough it out.”
Tristan frowned immediately. “You should’ve woken me up.”
She gave him a tired look. “You were asleep.”
“So?” he said, sliding back onto the bed beside her. “It’s not like I had anything important to do. You come first. Always.”
Barbara studied him for a second. “You were snoring.”
“Was I?”
“Like an old man.”
A small smile tugged at his mouth. “Charming.”
She eased back into the pillows, exhaling slowly. “Thanks.”
He didn’t answer right away.
He just looked at her.
Hair a mess. Paler than usual. Eyes tired from pain and barely any sleep. And somehow, even like this, she was still worrying about him.
That was it.
Something settled in his chest, quiet and undeniable.
He’d always known he wanted to marry her. They’d talked about it. Laughed about being too young, agreed to wait a few more years. Timing. Careers. Life.
Hell just earlier in the day, he told Anita he was waiting for a few more years until he married her sister.
But sitting here now, none of those excuses mattered to him anymore.
He leaned in and kissed her softly.
“You’re my wife,” he said, quiet but sure.
She blinked at him. Eyes still a little puffy from sleep, but smiling. “Am I?” she murmured.“Because I don’t see an engagement ring on my finger, Mr. Hale.” Her hand lifted just slightly, pointing lazily at the bedside stand. The promise ring glinted faintly in the early light. “All I see is that.”
Tristan leaned down and kissed the bridge of her nose. “Let Vardy finish his wedding first,” he murmured. “Can’t steal his thunder. I already upstaged him once this year.”
She sank back into the pillows smiling. “Such a considerate man.”
He stretched his arms overhead, the sleep still leaving his body. “Since I’m up,” he said, checking the time—5:42, still early, “might as well go make breakfast. Your sister kicked out John last night. Said she wanted to cook for her ‘kis hugica.’”
Barbara gave a hoarse laugh. “She didn’t even let him boil water.”
“I noticed.” He stood, rolling his neck around. “But now it’s my turn. And anyway…”
He looked back at her. There was no teasing in his voice now. “Since I just told you you’re my wife… I should take care of you.”
Barbara’s lips parted, but no quip came out. That word wife landed deeper than she expected. Like it had been waiting to be said out loud. Her chest ached in the best way, and not from the surgery.
“I like the sound of that,” she murmured.
Her voice was still hoarse, her face still pale. But the smile that followed was unmistakable — soft around the eyes, gentle at the corners of her mouth, a smile meant for one person in the entire world.
Tristan leaned down and kissed her, slow and certain.
“I’ll be back in ten,” he said. “Don’t fall asleep on me.”
Barbara’s lashes dipped. “No promises,” she whispered, still smiling.
He left the room as quietly as he came.
Tristan stood barefoot by the stove in a Nike shirt and shorts. A soft hiss came from the pan where he was gently stir-frying some congee, rice porridge with ginger, and a bit of spring onion. Easy on the stomach. Something his mum used to make. A recipe she got from Ling.
He’d thought about grabbing a block of cheese at first to add to it as it was Barbara’s guilty favorite, always her go-to comfort snack but the idea of feeding her dairy right after abdominal surgery had stopped him cold. Probably not the smartest move.
Steam rose from the pot. Biscuit was curled beneath the kitchen table, paws twitching in her sleep.
Tristan grabbed his phone off the counter while the congee simmered, thumbing through the usual flood of messages. The Leicester group chat lately was a lot more chilled out and dead as he told everyone he was out with a few more people announcing their departure in the chat as well.
A string of texts from Ed too. Apologies again for missing the parade. A few blurry photos from his hotel room back in England. Just got back, brother. So proud of you. You were magic.
Tristan smiled faintly, then swiped them away after responding before seeing a message from Sofia.
Sent last night.
“Hey, one quick thing, Mendes wants to set up a controlled interview. Not live. Think ‘The Decision’ but edited. He thinks it could be iconic if handled right. Let me know when you’re in the headspace to talk about it. No pressure yet.”
Tristan stared at the message for a few seconds.
He got what Mendes was thinking. They’d film it, let him speak how he wanted, and cut out whatever didn’t land as he announced his decision to the rest of the world.
It made sense. But for it to work, the interview had to be someone he respected and admired. Someone that made him sound special on the field.
.
1.2k chapter.
Very short, I know but I’m writing this on my phone as my power is out due to the storm. My fingers hurt, like fuck this storm bro.
Besides that I’m stuck in my apartment, can’t go anywhere so I just wanted to write something nice and simple with Tristan and Barbara.
This is pretty much a filler chapter.