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“My god, Luce,” TIm Bradford groans as he slides his tired hands underneath a cardboard box in his trunk. He winces as he heaves it up into the air and tucks it against his chest. “How many boxes do you have?”
“I’m a hoarder,” she admits, though there is a lack of shame in her voice. “You knew that when you asked me to move in.”
“I didn’t know how bad it was!” While he does all of the heavy lifting, Lucy follows him to merely open doors and direct his steps. He sets down the particularly heavy box, and just for fun, peels back the tape holding the edges together. He pulls out the first object, which happens to be a statue of a deformed cat. “See, why in the world would you need this?”
Lucy studies the green cat with a golden tail. If she’s being honest, it always terrified her, which is why she’s kept it tucked away in her closet. But she hasn’t let it go, because, “my roommate from freshman year of college got it for me when we moved out!”
“Jeezus, you’ve had this thing for like… two decades?” Tim scoffs as he gently places it back in the box.
“Excuse me,” Lucy places her hands on her hips, her cheeks turning a little bit more rosy. “It hasn't been two decades yet. I’m only thirty four!”
“Sixteen years, not much better,” he tells her. “By the way, that is not going up in the house.”
“That’s fine,” she shrugs. “It’s a little scary, anyway.”
Tim shakes his head as they head out for the next box. He has a strong urge to force her to get rid of it, but he doesn’t have the heart too. He has the closet space, anyway, so he chooses to pick and choose his battles.
“Last one!” Lucy cheers, as if she’s been doing all of the heavy lifting. It wasn’t that she didn’t offer, because she did. Tim was adamant about the fact that she kept her pretty little hands clean, of course, and carried every box out for her.
“Thank god,” Tim adds. Lucy closes his trunk and locks the front door behind him.
“Now the fun part, unpacking it all,” Lucy announces cheerily, staring down at the dozens of cardboard boxes sprawled out across Tim’s already-crammed living room.
“I think we should take a break,” Tim suggests. Before Lucy can argue, he’s throwing himself onto the couch, shoes on and all.
“You didn’t even take your shoes off!” Lucy complains. Tim doesn’t seem to care much, so Lucy bends down and pulls the old, dirty sneakers off of his feet. She walks them over to the front door and carefully places them in the shoe rack.
“Eh, I don’t really care about that stuff,” Tim waves her off.
“Well, I do,” she rolls her eyes playfully. “I grew up in an Asian household. Shoes were never to cross the foyer.”
“Foyer?” Tim raises his brows. “I bought this house for less than half a million dollars. There is no foyer. ”
“You know what I mean,” she scoffs. Lucy sits herself down onto the couch, without shoes on, and tilts her head so that it rests on Tim’s shoulder. “Up for an episode of Top Chef?”
“You know it.”
This particular episode of Top Chef proves to be a boring one, and puts them both to sleep. By the time they wake up, the sun has mostly set.
“Oh my god, what time is it?” Lucy groans as sits herself upright, rubbing her eyes.
Tim, still laying flat, flips his wrist over to check his watch. “Almost eight.”
“If I had work, I’d be clocking in right about now,” she points out, a sense of resentment lining her tone.
“Sounds like someone is glad to have a couple of days off,” Tim chuckles as he sits up.
“My body-clock hasn’t quite adjusted,” Lucy reveals, somewhat sheepishly.
“Night shift is rough,” Tim agrees. “But now I’m here. To cook, help clean, do laundry. Whatever you need.”
“That’s sweet,” Lucy flashes a half-hearted smile. “But it won’t last forever. You’ll get tired from your own shifts, and the acts of service will dwindle.”
Tim rolls his eyes. “You have no faith in me!”
“It’s not that I don’t have faith,” Lucy corrects carefully. “It’s more that… I’m being realistic. I don’t expect you to exhaust yourself just because I’m tired, you know?”
“Luce, take a deep breath,” Tim says softly. He places his hand on her back and moves it up and down in soothing motions. “That’s not something to worry about right now. Let’s just focus on getting something for dinner, okay?”
As instructed, she takes a deep breath, letting her tight shoulders down from their tense positions. “Have you always been this effectively evasive?”
“No, but months of therapy will do that to you,” he laughs. “Teaches you that some things aren’t worth losing sleep over.”
“Thanks true,” Lucy puckers her lips, hiding the fact that she’s impressed.
“So, what do you think you’d like for dinner?” Tim asks again.
“Takeout’s good,” Lucy claims, showing a wad of noodles into her tiny mouth, “but I prefer your cooking.”
“That’s because seventy-five percent of the ingredients used in this Lo-Mein will probably give you cancer,” Tim remarks.
“Okay, well, that’s irrelevant,” Lucy waves him off. She looks around the dining room table, noticing how it lacks a single crumb in any spot. Well, besides the one she’s currently sitting in. She had a bit of trouble grabbing the noodles with the chopstick at first.
“You haven’t sat at this table since that awkward dinner with Seth, have you?” she asks.
“What makes you say that?” Tim scoffs. Lucy narrows her eyes at him, which is enough to pull out a confession. “Okay, I haven’t.”
“So, what? Do you eat all of your meals in front of the T.V.?”
“Not my fault that mealtime coincides with Monday Night Football,” he shrugs.
“And the other six days of the week? Well, you take this table for granted,” Lucy informs him. “I’ve never had this much space while eating at home. Though, I could see why this would be lonely for just one person.”
“Good thing it’s not just one person living here anymore, isn’t it?” Tim points out happily.
“Good thing,” she repeats with a smirk.
“God,” Lucy whispers, pulling the covers higher. “You still keep the house colder than the arctic at night?”
“Colder than the arctic?” Tim huffs. “I’m practically sweating.”
“How are you sweating? You’re shirtless!” Lucy exclaims, forgoing the hush tone this time.
“I can’t control my ideal temperature,” he remarks, somewhat bitingly.
“Fine,” Lucy scoffs. “I’ll just steal a hoodie from your closet. Mine are still packed.” Tim laughs at that last part. Even if her own clothing was right in front of her, she’d walk a mile just to switch it out for one of his.
She crawls out of bed and holds her hands out as she walks across the room, making sure not to bump into any corners. Once she reaches the closet, she sifts through his jackets, attempting to make out their designs. “Hey, where’s that really soft blue one? The one with ‘LAPD’ etched onto the front?”
“Uh,” Tim scratches his head, “I think I donated it. Spring cleaning.”
“Oh, come on,” she pouts. “That was my favorite.”
“Sorry,” he calls out. “Didn’t know how much you liked it. I’m pretty sure I have another one in a different color.”
“Yeah, the green one. It isn’t as soft,” she tells him sadly. She sighs as she takes it out anyway, and throws it over her head.
“Better?” Tim asks as she slides back under the covers.
“Much,” she hums, snuggling back in to whatever warmth the bed offered. “But you know what would make me ten times warmer?”
“What?”
“Your arms around my stomach.”
They both know that’s a lie; Tim has hands known for being almost as icy as his heart. But Lucy just likes the security of being held, so Tim happily slides his arm under her torso and pulls over into his chest.
Lucy is unsurprised to find the left side of the bed empty by the time she wakes up. She is surprised to find that it’s already eleven a.m.. Clearly, she hadn’t quite caught up on the lack of sleep from night shifts.
A familiar scent fills her nose as she places her feet on the cold floor, one that somewhat resembles a bakery, or small brunch shop. She immediately recognizes it as Tim’s usual assortment of breakfast: pancakes, coffee, and breakfast potatoes. His favorite to cook, and Lucy’s favorite to eat.
“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” he says without looking up from the pan in front of him.
“How-” she begins.
“I heard your footsteps,” he tells her. “Plus, Kojo’s ears perked up. A tell of your presence.”
Lucy looks down at the calm canine, who is chewing on an almost-frayed bone in his dog bed. “You gave me away,” she chastises playfully.
“Welcome to living with a dog,” Tim laughs. “Nothing you do goes unnoticed.”
“I’m excited to have a pet,” Lucy says as she bends down at his bed. She scratches that sweet spot behind his ears, causing him to bark before scratching her hand with his back leg. “I begged for years, but my parents never let up. And then I bounced between apartments, so I could never really get more than a fish.”
“You can thank my super annoying ex-rookie for him,” Tim reminds her. “She’s pretty in over her head, if I do say so myself.”
Lucy rolls her eyes as she stands up. “I’m here to right my wrongs,” she says confidently as she paces towards him. She places her elbows on the kitchen island and leans forward, watching as Tim drops chocolate chips into the sizzling pancakes.
“Right, that’s what this is about. Getting Kojo back.”
“Exactly!”
Tim shakes his head with a smile. “Well, he’s almost as excited as me to have you back.”
Lucy laughs as she turns her head to the left; Tim has deduced that this is what she does when she doesn’t want him to see her blushing.
“Come on, let’s eat,” Tim instructs cheerily as he slides the last pancake onto a plate. Lucy grabs the breakfast potatoes and follows Tim over to his dining table. They lay the food out in a nice, pleasing spread. Lucy insists on taking pictures before they actually touch the food.
“This was very sweet,” Lucy says as she slides a pancake off from the stack and onto her own plate. “And unnecessary,” she adds. “But sweet.”
“I thought you’d like to fill your stomach before your first day back at work,” Tim explains.
“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Lucy groans. “I can’t wait to get off of this shift.”
“What, you don’t like patrolling in the middle of the night?” he jokes, and Lucy rolls her eyes.
“I just don’t know this team too well. And I’m not exactly in their good graces, since I busted them for sleeping in their shops,” she scoffs.
“They’ll grow up,” Tim assures her. “Nobody likes the night shift, but they have a job to do. Just because they drew the short end of the stick doesn’t mean they can let criminals roam the streets at night.”
“At this point, I’m about to join them in the back of the shop,” Lucy jokes.
“And I’ll be right there to take a picture. With the flash, of course,” he threatens light-heartedly.
“Oh, I sincerely hope you don’t still have that,” she groans with embarrassment, burying her head in her hands. “You know what, I don’t even want to know.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Tim huffs. “I’ll have to get rid of it to fit your ridiculous amount of clothes!” He motions to the boxes, still taking up space in the living room.
“Right,” she giggles. “I should probably get started on that.”
“How about we start with making a donation pile?” Tim suggests snarkily.
“Fine,” Lucy ultimately agrees. “Only because hoarding is bad for health. Both mental and physical.”
By the middle of the day, the donation pile towers higher than Lucy. “When’s your bulk pick-up?” she asks, slightly concerned as she watches the stack of old clothes and decorative items tilt slightly to the left.
“Next Wednesday,” Tim tells her as he adds a hideous lamp to it. “But we can put these all in the garage until then.”
“The garage?” Lucy snaps her head around in shock. “You mean your precious man cave?”
“Well, I was thinking of doing something else with the room,” Tim beckons. “Something that we’d both enjoy.”
“I mean, I like the gym part,” Lucy says as she re-folds an old sweater. “Be nice not to have to stay late at work just for some bicep curls.”
“Maybe we spring for a couple more machines. A treadmill, or bike,” he proposes.
“Sounds like a stellar idea,” she nods happily. She didn’t realize how much she’d enjoy living in a home, where she was able to have creative freedom. She could make holes in the walls that were larger than the size of a dime, and didn’t have to worry about her upstairs neighbor stomping their feet late at night.
“You ready for a lunch break?” Tim asks as he stands up, brushing his hands against the dark blue jeans fitted across his legs.
“Duh!” Lucy exclaims, standing up and following Tim to the kitchen. “Wait! You’ve done so much already. Let me cook you something.”
“Sure,” Tim concedes, yet hesitantly. He doesn’t need to show her where the pots and pans are, she just knows.
“You moved the spoons,” she points out as she opens the middle drawer of his kitchen island.
“You told me to,” he remarks back from the couch, a beer in his hand.
“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d actually listen.”
“I always listen.” Tim defends.
“Sure, but you didn’t fix this until after we broke up,” she notes.
“I was barely here when we were together,” he reminds her. “The first time, at least.”
“True.”
It was weird for Lucy to spend so much time somewhere that wasn’t her apartment. Well, it wasn’t her apartment anymore; it was Celina’s, and now Miles’ too. And while she missed the bright walls and tacky decor of her previous home, she’s grown to quite like life at Tim’s house.
It was quieter, more peaceful. And for someone who faced action from every angle at work, she never realized how nice the silence was. Especially on the night shift, she appreciated being away from the construction and sirens passing by every second.
Lucy makes a killer chicken pasta, which she and Tim both finish in under ten minutes. He helps her wash the dishes, returning each of the pots and pans to their original positions.
Tim notices Lucy’s eyes blinking slower than before, and her feet seem heavier as they slide against the vinyl flooring.
“Unpacking wiped you out, huh?” Tim laughs as they settle back onto the couch.
“I’m ready to take a nap,” she sighs, throwing her head back onto the cushion.
“I’m not going to stop you,” Tim tells her. “In fact, I encourage it.”
He wraps his arm around her shoulder and pulls him into her side. She voluntarily nuzzles her head into his chest and spreads her legs out behind her.
“This is nice,” she hums, her voice muffled by his t-shirt. A smile is spread across her face, and her eyes are closed. Tim reaches behind him and pulls down a blanket, carefully opening it and laying it out between the two of them.
“It is, isn’t it?” he agrees. By the time he looks down at Lucy, her lips are puckered out just the slightest; her tell of having fallen asleep. He watches as her chest rises and falls in a steady pattern.
She sleeps so peacefully. Much unlike him, she sleeps through small disturbances. He was always jealous of her ability to stay in slumber.
Though, he too falls asleep within minutes, Lucy’s presence putting him right to bed.
Lucy slides her fresh key into the door, turning it open as slowly and quietly as possible. She makes a mental note to talk to Tim about getting the hideous doorknob replaced.
She got off a couple of hours early, which meant she got off at 5 a.m.. She knew Tim was going to wake up sometime in the next hour anyway, but still, she was trying her best to keep him in bed for as long as she could. She’s successful in setting her bag down, getting a glass of water, and slipping into the bedroom.
It isn’t until she sifts through the dresser for an old t-shirt and sweats to change into that Tim stirs out of slumber.
“Home already?” he calls our hoarsley, his eyes still closed.
“Yeah, slow day. Didn’t mean to wake you,” she whispers. As he sits up, Lucy throws her blazer onto the ground and switches her blouse out for one of Tim’s shirts. She shimmines out of her jeans and replaces them with a pair of old sweats before collapsing onto the bed.
“How was your shift?” Tim manages to grumble as Lucy’s head hits the pillow.
“Boring. Tiring. Exhausting.”
“Come here,” Tim commands, though he doesn’t wait for Lucy to move before pulling her onto his chest, albeit gently. She doesn’t argue.
“I missed you,” he whispers as she relaxes on top of him.
“I was gone for like seven hours,” she laughs.
“That’s a lot of hours.” He slides his fingers into her hair and begins to scratch her head.
“We’re going to have to get used to it,” Lucy sighs sadly. “No more days off.”
“I guess so,” he realizes, stroking her long locks.
“At least I come home to you,” she says before closing her eyes, fighting the sleep induced by Tim’s repetitive conforming motions.
Tim doesn’t tell her that on a regular day, she’d be coming back to an empty house. On the bright side, they wouldn’t need to put Kojo in doggy daycare anymore. But he lets her sleep in bliss for another forty-five minutes, until he needs to get ready for his own day of work.
Even though they had opposite schedules, they found ways to remind themselves of the other throughout the day. Lucy sent strings of texts to Tim when she was bored, which he answered whenever he had a free moment. He left her food in the fridge, with sweet notes on the top of each container. Lucy took Kojo on extra long walks, and Tim would find an excuse to ride through the neighborhood when her location was updated.
Being on different shifts sure had its trials and tribulation, the main one being exhaustion, but they made it work. And shift change became their favorite part of the day.