It is half an hour past midnight when you finally decide to switch your television off after flicking through random channels out of boredom. You get up, resolving to retire to bed, and begin walking towards your bedroom. You're met with a surprise when you see Niall come out of your five year old son's room.
"What's up?" you ask, attempting to peek into the room before he shuts the door.
"Nothin'," he shrugs, "just checking up on him."
You nod, and before you can start moving towards your own bedroom again, Niall grabs your wrist, stopping you.
"What?"
"Can't I kiss my beautiful wife?" he pouts, pulling you closer and brushes his lips over yours. You laugh at his words, but secretly love what he says and does. To hide the redness that creeps up your cheek, you turn your face away, and try to free your wrist from his grip.
"It's late, Niall," you stutter, "we should, we should- uh, go to sleep."
"Oh, come on, babe," he groans, now also holding your other wrist and wrapping your arms around himself, "let me make you-"
You cut his words off. "Let me go check up on him," you say, gesturing towards your kid's room.
"I just did," Niall nuzzles his face in your neck. At this point, you both are aware that both of you want to indulge in some loving, but you are deliberately making him try just a little harder.
"What if he needs his mommy, Niall," you argue playfully, trying to push him away in vain.
"What if I need his mommy, darling," he says, unexpectedly cupping your face in his hands as he kisses you fiercely.
Now you give in. You kiss him back fervently, and let him carry you into your bedroom.
