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By the time Tim pushes the front door open, the clock just ticks past 10pm. Three hours after his shift was meant to finish. Two hours since he last texted Lucy and said he'd be home soon. Really, he really should've expected that there would be stacks of additional paperwork to approve even at end of shift, that there would be patrol officers wanting to ask him something even when he's already neck deep in paper clips and folders, that he would, once again, be late to come home to his girl. OT is not something uncommon for him, or anyone on the force, unfortunately. Yet ever since he steps up as Watch Commander, the schedule only got crazier.
From the couch comes a warm, soft voice, "Hey."
The word is simple, yet Lucy's tone is enough to say the assuring words she didn't. I miss you. Today must've been rough.
Tim's bag drops on the floor with a thud, catching Kojo's attention. The fury ball excitedly runs to him, curling up at his feet. "Hey, buddy," Tim scratches behind the little boy's ears, a spot he knows would soothe him. Pulling away from the touch, Kojo basically sprints to the couch and jumps on Lucy's lap, as if telling Tim to follow him.
"There's dinner in the oven, I just heated it up," she says, brows furrowed together, concern all over her face.
The exhaustion starts to seep through his bones, pulling down every muscle possible. With all the energy he has left, Tim crosses the room in quick strides before fully pushing Kojo out of the way and collapses on the couch, his head settling on Lucy's thighs.
"I'll get it in a minute," he says with a sigh, his eyes snapping shut, hand coming up to pinch his nose bridge.
"Okay," she chuckles, fingers threading through the soft strands of his hair, massaging his scalp in the motion only she knows. "That bad of a day?" she offers.
"Why can't Smitty just sign his paperwork before giving them to me to approve?" Tim exhales, hand slicing through the air with frustration. "Why do I have to call him back in to sign- You know what, I don't even want to know why. Maybe Grey was right. He is a force of nature," his hand flops down, hitting the couch.
At the sight of Watch Commander Tim Bradford getting so wound up by Smitty's laziness and her live-in boyfriend Tim's little actions, Lucy can only smile, "You're adorable, you know that?"
"Can you not give me compliments like that when Smitty is the centre of the conversation?" he wipes a hand down his face, clearly not amused by the idea of the older officer being mentioned in the context where Tim himself is called 'adorable' by his girlfriend.
"You are! Look at you being all ... dramatic," her hand settles on his chest, an action she knows would comfort him, especially after a 15-hour long shift.
"Okay, enough of this. I'm getting dinner," immediately, he launches, tired legs carrying him to their kitchen and kneeling down next to the oven. The hot steam greets him, and so does the familiar scent of Lucy's lasagna. He looks up at her, who is already sitting at the kitchen island where the plates and cutlery are prepared, with utter adoration, "Thank you. I really needed a home-cooked meal after today."
"See? I told you, adorable," she giggles, the carefree sound he has missed, even though he's only heard her hours ago at the station. Maybe in his own office. Maybe from LIGF Lucy and not Sergeant Chen. Maybe just before she decisively shut the blinds and gave him a peck. Maybe he did blush.
He pulls out the baking dish. Untouched. Has she not eaten?
"I thought you already had dinner," he sets it down next to their plates, worrying blue eyes meeting her brown.
She shrugs like it's nothing, "Gotta wait for my man."
At the words, his heart swell. For a split second, he thinks it might burst. This is not how love is usually pictured. He grew up thinking love is some grandeur gesture, expensive restaurants and fancy gifts; is intense kisses, passionate nights and glamorous words. And sometimes, it is. Yet, with Lucy, it's simply whispers in the dark, a touch of hand, a soft smile across the table; it's a home-cooked meal waiting for you after a long day, staying up to see you come home, willing to wait just so they can have dinner together no matter how tired.
"You didn't have to," the words come out of him just barely a whisper but she catches them anyway.
"I know," her voice drops, to that intimate tone only he knows, to that caring tone reserved for those Lucy Chen truly loves, "but I want to."
At the most important moment, his stomach rudely interrupts. Tim rounds the island, settling down in the stool next to her, "Guess that's sign to really have dinner."
The weight of the day seem to have pulled most, if not all, energy from both of them. Minutes pass, and in a blink of an eye, half an hour passes and the baking dish is empty. Despite his protests, Lucy insists on doing cleaning up anyway, letting him get changed and take a shower. Although in her words, it is only because he "smells like gun powder and Watch Commander Bradford but not live-in boyfriend Tim".
By the time she leans on the door frame, pretty brown eyes looking at him, Tim's already in bed, leaning on the headboard, scrolling on his phone.
"Can I ask you something or are you too tired for literally anything else today?" she asks, her voice impossibly gentle as she settles on her side of the bed, pulling the blanket over her legs, shoulder leaning on the headboard to face him.
"Go ahead," his phone is quickly placed on the nightstand as he fully turns to her.
Her hand reaches out, intertwining their fingers, like the touch would give her more courage to start the conversation, "So I've been thinking about what happened."
"Okay," his voice wavers, fingers instinctively tightening against hers as the statement worries him.
"With our job and what we face out there every day. The thing-," she hesitates.
Tim fills in, "The thing we learn early on as a police officer is that our future is never certain."
She finishes, "Anything can happen to anyone, at any time."
"Yeah," he nods, understanding. His thumb brushes past her knuckles, a silent reassurance that she can continue if that's what she wants.
"I'm thinking of," she pauses, "getting my services figured out. For when the time comes."
Tim freezes. His thumb ceases movement on her hand. His jaw dropped in what he doesn’t know if it's surprise or shock. His eyes glued to hers, trying to make sense of what she just said.
"I'm sorry. Wait- What- Why, again?" he stutters.
"I just," her other hand reaches to cover his, her body leaning closer towards him, "don't want you to worry about all the logistics at that time. It'll be difficult. But maybe not a coffin, I ... I want to become flowers."
"Stop," abruptly, his hands leave hers completely as he practically launches out of bed and starts to pace back and forth in their bedroom. And that's when Lucy knows how much this is getting to him. She knows his tells. The way he looks up to not let gravity pull tears down his cheeks, the way he secures his hand on his hips where his duty belt usually is, the way his jaw starts to clench.
"Tim, it's good if we have this figured out-," she tries again, tilting her head to clearly see his face.
"No," the word comes out sharper than intended and his eyes snap up only to check on her briefly before they are, once again, glued to the ceiling.
The sound of bed sheets rustling fill the quiet room when Lucy scrambles to kick off the covers. Then, she's by his side, her hand on his arm. The touch pulls him back just when his mind starts to wander back to the body cam footage. The feeling of her soft hand on his bicep a physical reminder that she's here, alive and safe, in their home.
"Hey," she tries, her heart clenching, already regretting the decision of dropping this on him.
Slowly, his eyes meet hers. The bright blue colour of his glistening with unshed tears under the low golden light. Without knowing it, he already gathers her in his arms, face buried in her shoulder, hands holding her waist. For a moment, time seems to stop. All that Tim sees are the smooth curls of black hair on her back, dark wooden floor of their bedroom and further away, the orange covers of their bed. All that Tim hears are her deep breath next to him, his own sobs and further away, Kojo lapping water. All that Tim smells are a hint of spiced cedar, faint lavender, and something purely Lucy. All that Tim feels are the comfort of her small hand caressing the back of his head, her chin fitting into the crook of his neck like they're made for each other, and most importantly, her presence. Closing his eyes, he registers everything all at once to come to the ultimate conclusion: Lucy is alive.
"I don't want to think about it," a sob escapes him involuntarily, "I don't want to picture you dying. Or ... or anything that will happen after that."
"Tim," her voice trembles, moved by his emotions, "it'll happen at some point."
His legs give out at the thought and gravity brings him down. His knees meet the hard wooden floor as he buries his face against her front, strong arms on her back to pull her in impossibly closer. If he was holding back before, he surely isn't now. Tim cries. His loud sobs bounce off the walls of their bedroom, startling Kojo on the other side of the door. There are frantic clicking sound of the floor as their baby boy rushes to the door, only to give up after 10 seconds, knowing Lucy has got him.
The words that come out of Tim are barely coherent, mixed with dread and desperation. Please stay with me. I wouldn't survive if you're not here.
Lucy gently guides him up, tugging on his shirt, "Come on. Let's get you in bed."
Settling on her back, she's surprised by how Tim has followed her. Part of her expects him to prop up on the headboard, holding her into the curve of his arm like any other night. Yet, he settles on his stomach, face pressing to her front, much like how he was just seconds ago.
"Lucy, I can't ...," the words are barely a whimper.
Her fingers tangle in his hair, soft dirty blonde strands weaving through the gaps of her small fingers, "I'm right here, Tim."
His sobs start to die down, replaced by quieter sniffles, "I know now."
The moment the words leave his throat, they both know what he's referring to. Minutes of terror wandering around Westview not knowing whether he'd have her in his arms again. Minutes of shock staring at an innocent dead person knowing she caused it. The moment of relief when the other shows up in sight.
"I just thought I'd talk to you about it. You know, it makes sense for us to," she continues, her fingers never stopping their movements on his scalp.
"I know," he sniffles, now resting his chin on her stomach to hold his gaze with hers, "but I really thought I was going to lose you that day. And I was too close to actually losing you if you hadn't done what you did. And I," he pauses, "there are only two ways out of there that afternoon. This is going to sound selfish. But I'm glad it wasn't you who left in a body bag."
Her hand stills, "Tim ..."
"No, listen," his hand reaches out, fingers tangling in her hair, "that day at Kern County as well. I was terrified when I found the barrel. I was terrified when I saw your lifeless body." Tim takes a deep breath as he sits up properly, both hands now holding hers, "Both times, Lucy. I was so close to losing you. I don't want to have to imagine it again."
Lucy nods, her own eyes now filled with tears, "Okay."
Ever so slowly, as if to savour the moment, Tim leans in, pressing a kiss to her lips. And that, is enough for him. The person he loves the most in his arms. A cute dog with the ability to destroy chew toys. The home they've built together. Nothing can take them away from him.