Saturday mornings with Nick are your favorite.

You always sneak out of bed early to make breakfast for the two of you—using the scent of bacon as an alarm clock.

You are humming happily as you finish setting the table. The house is so quiet—which is rare. Another reason you love Saturdays at home so much. Normally, you're traveling, and then when you are at home, there is always someone visiting. Whether it be your family or the Jonases, there is always company. You both love your families more than anything, but you both crave to just be alone sometimes.

You hear Nick stirring upstairs, and you glance over at the stove.
Why is he awake? I haven't even gotten out the bacon yet.

You think, laughing to yourself. Nick sleeps so soundly that it genuinely catches you off guard.

He's always so tired. He just works so hard—I want him to be able to sleep as much as possible.

You almost drop the orange juice carton on to the floor, startled by him saying, "SHIT!" from upstairs. You start laughing at the mix of the curse word and his child-like sleepy voice.

"You okay?" you ask, still smiling to yourself. You know nothing's seriously wrong—you would have sensed that in his tone of voice immediately.

You hear his bare feet pitter-pattering rather quickly down the stairs. To your surprise, he's pretty much already dressed. However the sleep in his hair and his eyes have yet to be taken care of. He heads over to the door to slip on his shoes and a jacket.

"Where are you rushing off to? Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just completely forgot Paul wanted me to come in this morning to redo a verse for one of the new songs. I woke up to six texts—God, I hate it when I do this."
"Nick, you never do this."

"…I know, but I just—"
He's struggling with his jacket big time. Nick always gets so flustered when he's in a hurry.

"Here."

You flip one of the sleeves the right way out, and slip it over his arm with ease.

Nick takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and sighs.

"Thanks."

You walk over to the kitchen and grab a banana and his latest protein bar obsession.

"Please eat this on the way there."
"Yes ma'am," he says with his signature smirk as he grabs the food from your hands.

He leans down to kiss you on the forehead.

"Good morning," he says with his lips still on your head.

"Good morning," you reply with a smile as you open the door.

You can hear him sprinting out to the car.

You turn around to look at the kitchen and the empty house.

Well, so much for our lazy Saturday, you think as you walk into the kitchen. Then you realize how selfish you're being. You know Nick's music makes him happier than anything in the world. There will always be another Saturday, you think as you smile to yourself.

You start to put the orange juice and raw bacon back in the fridge.

You hear the door open and you realize that Nick must have thought his keys were in his pocket.

"Did you forget something, babe?" you ask without looking up.

He doesn't respond, so you look over at him as you close the refrigerator door.

He looks at you with that look—the same look he gave you as you walked down the aisle on your wedding day.

Smiling, he walks towards you, and gently brushes a piece of hair out of your eyes.

"Yeah, I almost did."

He pulls you in for a real kiss this time, and wait for it—here come the butterflies. You have waited for a few years for that feeling to go away, but it never does.

Every kiss feels like the first time.

His strong, passionate kiss slowly starts to take on a different feeling. You don't notice it at first—but then it's all you can notice. He kisses you faster, stronger, harder. His hands travel from your face and down to your waist as he easily picks you up and places you gently on the kitchen counter. You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist and kiss him even more fiercely.

You know he has to leave soon, and it's obvious neither of you want this to end. You know he will beat himself up later for it if he stays—so you know you have to take on the burden of sending him on his way. Nick will still never grasp the concept of how insanely hard that is for me to do, you think to yourself as you slowly untangle yourself from his arms.

"You have to go," you say, trying to hide the begrudging tone in your voice.

"I don't think you want me to," Nick says seductively. God, it's too easy for him to make me want to change my mind.

But two can play that game.

You whisper in to his ear, "If you leave now, I promise I will make it worth your while when you get back. And I never break my promises."

That got him. You could see it in his eyes. Nick –1 , Me –1.

"True, but—"

"No buts," you say with more authority now that the ball is in your court.

You walk over to grab the keys to the Mustang. You reach to grab them off the hook, however your hand hovers and changes direction. You choose the Volvo keys instead. He's going to love this, you think, smirking to yourself. You walk back into the kitchen.

"Here's the keys. Now out you go. I'll see you in a few hours."

You begin to physically push him towards the door. His mind hasn't switched gears yet.

He looks down at the keys in his hand. "Oh, babe, I was wanting to drive the Mustang to work. Can you give me the other keys?"

"You want to drive the Volvo to the studio," I say as confidently as possible, with a hint of sexiness.

"…Do you need the Mustang for something? I know we've been working on it, but you're not very good at driving stick yet. I'll leave the Volvo here for you."

Damn it. He can be such a guy sometimes. So clueless. And also, rude about driving stick. I've been doing much better, thank you.

You try again. More obvious, you think.

"It would be in your best interest if you drove the Volvo to work," you say as seductively as you can. You even throw in a wink. Come on, Nick. Work with me.

"…Why? Is something wrong with the Mustang? I do need to change the oil soon."

DEAR GOD. He is such a guy right now. You are going have to take more drastic measures to get him to play along.

You walk sexily up to him, and place your hands on his chest. You trace his defined muscles while keeping eye contact. Man, he really has been working out more. Okay, focus, focus. Seduce HIM, not the other way around. Damn it. Focus.

"Nothing's wrong with the Mustang, Nick."

You move your hands down towards his waist.

"I just have a different idea of a ride we can take in it once you get home," you say as seductively as possible.

You slide your hands a little lower—oh yep, no doubt he got the message this time. Nick –1 , Me —2. HA.

"Oh, uh, um…yeah, yes," He says he clears his throat. His voice cracked just a little bit. "Um, yes. Volvo it is."

"Good answer," you say to him with a victory smirk.

You walk him to the door.

"Bye. I'll see you in a little bit. I'll be waiting," you say more with your eyes than your words—still riding the high of your win.

Nick walks out, and then sticks his head in the crack of the door.

"I'll tell Paul I need to make it quick…so we won't have to later," he says as he bites his lip. He wasn't even trying to be sexy. That bastard. Seriously? Not fair. Nick—2, Me—2.

Slightly flustered, you close the door on him. Why does he always get to have the last word? And it just comes so easily to him. For once, just once, it would be so nice to feel in charge.

Well, I guess that's what this afternoon is for, you think as you smirk to yourself.