Complacent [Duplicity Niall]

(A/n: sorry for the jarring time skip. We're in Vegas now. A lot of time skips are in our future. Apologies).

Vegas, Baby

I wake up to the heavy weight of an arm slung over my waist. The room is dim, only a sliver of neon pink light seeping through the blackout curtains. The air is thick with the smell of hotel laundry detergent, lingering cologne, and something distinctly Niall.

I blink, disoriented for a second, until I feel the rise and fall of his breathing against my back. His arm tightens slightly, a lazy, unconscious pull.

I should move.

I should get up.

Instead, I stay there. Just for a minute.

His breath is slow and warm against the nape of my neck, and I swear I feel him shift even closer, like he’s chasing my warmth. Like he knows I’m awake but doesn’t want me to leave just yet.

I exhale through my nose, staring at the ceiling.

Vegas.

The last few days have been a blur—hospitals, airports, sound checks, press. The show must go on, or whatever.

And now we’re here.

Vegas, baby.

Where the city never sleeps, and neither does Niall, apparently, because when I finally roll onto my back, his eyes are already half-open, watching me.

“Morning, princess,” he murmurs, voice wrecked with sleep.

His hair is a mess, wild and soft-looking. There’s stubble on his jaw, more than usual, like he’s given up on shaving the last few days. His hospital bracelet is still around his wrist, but the first thing I notice is the locket, resting against his bare chest.

My locket.

The one I gave him in Colorado.

I swallow.

“You’re staring,” he says, voice teasing.

“Because you look like shit,” I lie, sitting up and stretching.

He scoffs. “Brilliant. Thanks.”

I glance at the nightstand and immediately roll my eyes.

Half a bottle of whiskey.

“Niall.” I sigh.

He knows. He knows.

I don’t even have to say anything else.

“Save it,” he says, sitting up and reaching for it like this is a normal way to start the morning. “I’m a big boy.”

“You’re not even supposed to be drinking.”

He pops the cap and shrugs. “Supposed to, not can’t.”

I watch as he takes a swig, completely unfazed.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” He smirks, licking a drop from his lip before setting the bottle back down. “You love me.”

I scoff.

Not gonna touch that.

Instead, I push off the covers and stand, stretching my arms over my head before I pad across the carpet toward my suitcase.

“I hope you have an amazing plan for today,” I say, digging for something to wear. “And by amazing, I mean mildly tolerable.”

Niall snorts. “Why would I plan something mildly tolerable when I could plan something legendary?”