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His hand brushes through your hair softly, startling you a little but making you smile.
You’re both curled up on the couch, staring at the television – you’re pretty sure that neither of you know what’s on the television – you can say it’s some crime show, but after that, you’re pretty clueless.
Neither of you make a move to change the channel – you know Domhnall will soon, however, Aston Villa are playing in about half an hour, and you know he never misses a game.
You yawn and shift around, burying your face into his chest, settling down and closing your eyes. His chest feels like home, and you love the way his heart sounds, muffled by his chest and clothing, but still sounding like it’s right by your ear. It relaxes you, and you feel the rest of your tension slip away.
Suddenly, Domhnall moves and you lose your position, causing you to let out a screech. He chuckles and settles back down, holding the remote in his hand with an awkward smile.
“Sorry, love.”
You glare a moment before leaning up for a kiss, settling down as he flicks through the channels.
“You weren’t watching that, were you?”
“Well, yea, it’s my favourite show, Dom, ugh!”
He flicks back immediately and you burst into laughter. He blinks at you, confused.
“I was joking,” you smile softly, leaning up to nuzzle against his soft beard. “I couldn’t even tell you what was on air.”
Domhnall presses a button and grins. “Stalker.”
“Well, no, I wasn’t watching Stalker, you can flick channels.”
He chuckles and goes back to flicking. Snippets of audio cross through your hearing, but you settle down on his chest, going back to his heartbeat. The words wash over you, and you start to drift off.
Yawning, you shift around, wrapping your arm over his chest and your leg over his waist, closing your eyes. Domhnall presses a soft kiss to your forehead and you smile.
The next thing you register is Domhnall picking you up and carrying you through to the bedroom. You’re too tired to argue, and you just smile as he tucks you in. You grip onto his shirt and tug him down, smiling softly.
“Stay with me.”
His eyes flicker from between you and the door to the living room.
“We have a television in here, love.”
He makes a noise and kicks his shoes off, clambering into bed. He settles back on the pillows and you clamber back onto his chest, closing your eyes.
This time, you drift off quickly, smiling as he murmurs abuse at the referee on the television.