Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lucy was vaguely aware that Jackson was talking to her as they approached the bar, about what she wasn’t sure, just that the sound of his voice was a pleasant buzz. She stopped a couple of steps from the front door, suddenly unable to move forward. Their friends were already inside, having left the precinct a few minutes before them, and would be expecting them to walk through the door at any moment.

“Luce?” Jackson was watching her with concern as she took a few steps back.

This was a mistake. She closed her eyes, wanting nothing more than to be home in her pajamas and buried under her duvet. She opened her eyes and looked through the front window into the bar. Nolan was telling a story and she didn’t have to see them to know that Tim and Nyla were barely concealing an eye roll. The sight should fill her chest with warmth, on any other night it might, but tonight it just made her tired. She didn’t have the energy to go in there and pretend to be happy and carefree. Didn’t have it in her to sit next to or across from Tim and hide how she was feeling from him, to endure his scrutiny, or to watch him talk wedding with Angela or sports with John.

“Lucy?” Jackson put a hand on her arm trying to pull her attention back to him.

“I’m going to Uber home,” Jackson’s eyes narrowed at her, but she was already pulling her phone out of her bag and thumbing open the app.

He looked through the window trying to see whatever it was that made her freeze, but all he saw their friends laughing and talking over beers. “I’ll drive you,” he squeezed her shoulder gently.

Lucy looped her arm through his, and rested her cheek against his arm, “that’s silly,” she opened her Lyft app to compare wait time and trip cost. “I just have an overwhelming urge to fall into bed,” hopefully supplying the answer would cut off any questions.

“At least wait inside for your ride.” She shook her head no. If she stepped foot inside someone would try to convince her to stay, “I’ll wait with you here then.”

“Please just go inside before someone comes out here to get us.” There was a pleading note in her voice that she hated. “I will be fine.”

Jackson pressed a kiss to her forehead, “call me if you need anything. I’ll come right home.”

She squeezed his hand as he walked away from her, checking the two apps again, deciding to pay more for an Uber to get home faster.

Tim had been watching whatever was happening outside between Lucy and Jackson out of the corner of his eye while pretending to be interested in whatever Nolan had been going on about. A call involving a clown? Maybe? The bell above the door jangled and he turned at the sound to find Jackson entering alone. He cut his gaze back to the window. Lucy was still outside eyes focused on her iPhone.

He met Jackson’s gaze raising his eyebrows in question. The other man just shrugged and dropped into the empty seat by Nyla. Tim didn’t bother excusing himself just got up and exited the bar. He felt Nyla’s eyes on him but ignored it. “Lucy,” he bumped her shoulder gently to get her attention.

Lucy knew it was him the second the door opened. She fought the need to lean against him and let him take her weight. “Why is that when you order the ride they say your driver will be to you in three to five minutes, but then once you actually connect with someone they’re suddenly eleven minutes away?” She crossed her arms over her chest trying to ward off a sudden chill, wishing she’d brought a cardigan.

Tim dug his keys out of the front pocket of his jeans, “the truck is close, and I was planning to cut out early anyway.”

Lucy met his gaze for the first time since he’d stepped out next to her into the warm May night. Her brown eyes, usually so warm and open, easy for him to read, were cloudy with fatigue, what he thought was uncertainty, and something else he wasn’t quite sure of. It was disconcerting not knowing exactly what she was thinking and feeling. Hated not just knowing what was going on with her, what was bringing her joy, or hurting her. In the shop, he could pick up on her moods by the set of her shoulders or how she started conversations. Understanding her had come as easily as throwing the perfect spiral. Their distance made him feel off balance. He watched her worry her lower lip between her teeth and swallow hard. Finally, she nodded slowly and motioned for him to lead the way.

They walked a short distance to where he’d parked his truck. Tim pressed the button on the fob to unlock the doors, moving around Lucy to open the passenger door. He waited for her to sluggishly pull herself into the cab before closing the door. “Long shift?” He asked, starting the engine and pulling carefully out of the parking lot.

She hummed in what he thought was an agreement but maybe didn’t mean anything.

“Anything exciting happen?” He tried again a few minutes later when she hadn’t elaborated, “I think Nolan collared a clown,” he still wasn’t entirely sure what had happened in John’s story. When she didn’t say anything he looked briefly over at her and found her asleep, head resting on the passenger window. “Seriously, Chen,” he muttered, “I know I’m not as exciting as Jackson, but come on.”

She made the same vague humming noise again. Braking for a stoplight he took the opportunity to press the back of his hand to her forehead to check for a temperature the way his mother used to when he was a kid. He moved his hand to her cheek and then the back of her neck, frowning at the warmth he found.

“Tim,” she wasn’t sure how much time had passed or what was happening, but she thought he was carrying her.

He set her down carefully on her bed, handing her the pajamas that had been at the foot of it, before disappearing into her bathroom. Lucy could hear him opening drawers and the medicine cabinet, rummaging around for something. She tried to peel off her clothes and redress into her pajamas before he returned. “This is three years old,” he appeared in the doorway to her room with a box of Nyquil and then without another word returned to the bathroom to throw the expired medicine in the garbage.

“I’m not sick, I’m just tired,” fatigued really, the weight of the last couple of months, the estrangement from her family, doing the job without Tim, it was all catching up to her. She sunk down deeper under her blankets, cold too. And maybe a little achy, but that was to be expected, she had a physical job.

“You’re absolutely sick,” he came to sit next to her on her bed, holding a thermometer up to her lips. “100.9,” he read when the thermometer beeped.

Lucy groaned and closed her eyes. Sleep would make it all better.

Tim kicked off his boots so he could climb more fully onto the bed with her. He pressed his back against her headboard, stretching his legs out, crossing them at the ankles. He pulled out his phone and opened the Postmates app, typing Walgreens into the search bar. Cold & Flu Medicine, Gatorade, orange juice, tissues. He added things to the cart as he thought of them.

“You’re going to get sick,” despite her sleep-heavy words she burrowed closer to his side seeking out his warmth.

“What time is Tamara’s curfew?” Signs of the puppy were obvious in her living room. Duffel bags, textbooks, random clothes, and jewelry. The hallmarks of a teenager littered the couch and coffee table.

“Midnight.”

He glanced at his phone both to check the time (the kid had ninety minutes) and for an update on the delivery of his Walgreens order (still roughly a half-hour). “Jackson coming home tonight?” He needed to get back to Cujo at some point, but he didn’t want to leave Lucy and Tamara alone.

“I think so,” her words were muffled against his side.

When the delivery driver was a few minutes away Tim carefully slid away from a sleeping Lucy to meet him before he could ring the buzzer. Late-night groceries collected, orange juice and all but one of the Gatorades placed in the refrigerator, Tim returned to Lucy, Gatorade and a combo Day/NyQuil box in hand. “Lucy,” he tried shaking her awake, but she just groaned. “Chen,” he sat back down next to her. She tried to knock his hand away, “Boot,” he growled, using his TO voice.

She cracked one eye open and hoped she was glaring at him, “I’m sick,” she finally admitted.

Tim rolled his eyes and held out the pills and bottle of Gatorade. With a sigh, she propped herself up on one arm, taking first the pills and then the drink to wash them down. As soon as Lucy handed the bottle back to him she fell back onto her pillow. “What time is it?”

“A little after eleven,” he estimated there were about twenty minutes until the medicine kicked in and she fell into the deep sleep the Nyquil commercials promised.

Lucy tried to keep her eyes not wanting to waste alone time with Tim when she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d been this close to him. “I got to the bar and I just couldn’t bring myself to go inside.”

Tim slid down so his head was on the pillow and he was lying flat on top of her blankets, suddenly so tired himself. Between the job and planning Angela’s wedding whatever precious little free time he’d had was gone. He loved Angela, but she owed him, what exactly he wasn’t sure, but she owed him nonetheless. “Makes sense, you don’t feel well.”

“I didn’t have it in me to pretend to be happy. Like everything is fine like I’m fine. I didn’t want to be close to you but not be close to you.”

He turned his head on the pillow so he was looking over at her. She was on her side, only her face was visible, duvet tucked up under her chin. He wondered briefly if she was allergic to something in the meds or if her fever was spiking.

“Everything is so hard,” she admitted her voice thick with unshed tears, “I’ve lost my family. My parents, my extended family. They’re gone and the only way to get them back is to walk away from the LAPD.”

The fatigue, resignation, and pain in her voice tugged at him. His hands itched to pull her closer and tuck her back into his side. “Maybe they’ll come around,” he hoped they would. What they were asking of her was nearly impossible and horribly unfair.

Lucy coughed into her elbow, feeling it reverberate in her chest. She could feel the pills she’d taken start to do their job, pulling her closer to oblivion, “I miss you,” she whispered, “I knew I would, I just didn’t expect it to physically hurt all the time.” The first couple of shifts had been all excitement for having taken the next step in her career. She’d enjoyed turning on the AC or radio whenever she’d wanted, having Jackson next to her, laughing and joking easily.

About a month in she’d been convinced she had developed an ulcer, the constant burning discomfort in her stomach that no antacid or pain reliever could touch had sent her to the doctor for answers. No ulcer, no anything, she’d been assured she was fine. Even now with him next to her, she rubbed the heel of her hand just under her breastbone. “It was so easy for you to move on,” she hated that her voice broke.

Tim couldn’t resist anymore, he reached under the covers and gathered her back against his side, where he’d wanted her since he’d climbed back into her bed, “every time I smell strawberries I look for you. I order extra pickles at lunch without even thinking about it,” half the time their schedules didn’t even align leaving him with pickles he didn’t want. “The shop is so quiet.”

“You like the quiet.”

“I like the sound of your voice.” There were times he didn’t even know what she was saying, knew she wasn’t looking for a response from him. She’d just keep up a constant stream of chatter about everything and nothing, her voice would wrap around him and instead of smothering him, it would make it a little easier to breathe deeply.

“You feel so far away,” the duvet between them made it hard for her to get as close to him as she wanted, still she buried her face in the crook of his neck.

Lucy’s breath was hot on the skin of his neck in a way that should have been uncomfortable but just reminded him how close she was. “I wanted to give you space to find your footing.” He was so used to sending the rookies who made it through the year on their way without a second thought or backward glance. Sure, he was always happy to be a professional sounding board for them, write them a recommendation if he thought they deserved it, give them advice if they needed it. But they had to come to him, he wasn’t seeking them out.

He’d known from the first moment she looked back at him at roll call she would be different even if he hadn’t had a clue all the ways that would be true. For the first time in his career as a TO he hadn’t been ready to send a rookie out on their own. Lucy was ready, he knew with one hundred percent certainty, she would be great. She was going to do big things in her career, whatever path she chose to take. He was proud of her, of the cop she was and the cop she was becoming. Even after more than a year, he hadn’t been ready to let anyone else have her back. Hated the idea of not spending twelve plus hours a day in a shop with her, of someone else getting that opportunity.

She was so quiet, her breathing had evened out, eyes drooped closed. If she wasn’t asleep, she would be soon. He checked his watch, Tamara had twenty-five minutes to make it home. He wondered if Lucy had fought so hard to stay awake to talk to him or be sure the girl got home safely. Both options caused a smile to ghost over his lips. “I don’t like it,” her ragged whisper caught him off guard, “you’re so far away. Come back, okay?”

“Okay, Luce.” He didn’t much like it either.

“Tim?” Lucy was sure she had been snuggled against him when she fell asleep last night. The pillow and sheets next to her were cool to the touch. “Tim?” She rasped out his name again, throwing her legs over the side of the bed and standing up carefully.

“Officer Zaddy left when Jackson got home, somewhere around one o’clock,” Tamara answered from her spot at the kitchen island as Lucy entered the living space. She took a bite of the breakfast Jackson had shoved in front of her a few minutes ago, “you guys were awfully cozy.”

“He was here,” Lucy lowered herself onto the stool next to Tamara. She crossed her arms on the island and rested her head on them. The walk from her bedroom to the kitchen doing her in.

“He said to tell you to take Dayquil when you woke up and to drink lots of liquids,” Jackson put some toast in front of her.

She half-remembered her fever breaking at some point in the middle of the night and having to kick off covers and peel off layers. If her chills were any indication it was back. “I need to call off,” she still hadn’t lifted her head.

“Already taken care of,” Jackson placed a glass of orange juice next to the plate of toast. “Can you,” he nodded at Tamara and then looked towards Lucy’s room where Tim had left her meds.

Tamara returned a minute later dropping the orange capsules next to Lucy.

Lucy lifted her head and fumbled to open the pills, “thanks, Jackson.”

He took a drink of the mango smoothie he’d made himself, “wasn’t me.”

Tamara was busy moving around the living room throwing books into her backpack, rummaging around for a hoodie, and looking for the shoes she wanted to wear. She looked to Jackson and Lucy when a knock came to the door, “Officer Zaddy coming to check on you?” She raised her eyebrows suggestively at Lucy before turning to answer the door, knowing it wouldn’t be anyone else this early.

Tim frowned at her, “you need to check the peephole and find out who is on the other side of the door,” he told her.

Tamara rolled her eyes at him as she stepped back and opened the door wider, “so predictable,” she sing-songed as he and Cujo entered the apartment.

“Hi,” Lucy watched him as he stood in the doorway, Cujo sitting next to him. The track pants and Rams t-shirt told her he wasn’t going to work today. His eyes skipped over the occupants in the room.

Jackson downed the rest of his smoothie, “come on,” he was talking to Tamara, “I’ll drop you at school on my way to the precinct.” He grabbed his go bag and pocketed his wallet and phone.

“Can I drive?” Tamara reached for his keys.

“No,” he grabbed them before she could. He turned to Lucy, “I’d say call me if you need anything, but…” he trailed off, a knowing smirk on his face as he looked between Tim and Lucy.

“Go away,” Lucy wished she’d been able to put more heat in her voice than she’d mustered.

Jackson just chuckled as he ushered Tamara out the door.

When they were alone, Tim bent to unhook Cujo’s leash, and the dog immediately trotted over to sit by Lucy. He dropped the leash and his keys on Lucy’s entry table, shucked off the backpack he was wearing, dropping it to the ground. He kicked off his shoes, leaving them at the door.

Lucy took a drink of her orange juice to buy herself a minute. Some of what she’d shared with Tim last night came floating back to her making her cheeks flush, “I’m just going to go back to bed and sleep all day.” She was giving him an out.

“I only got about three hours last night,” by the time he’d left her place, gotten home, taken care of Cujo, it was much later than his usual bedtime.

She just watched him for a few beats. “I’ll order us lunch later,” she said finally, sliding off the stool and starting for her room knowing man and dog were following her.

Tim climbed into the bed next to her, Cujo settling at their feet. Lucy moved so her head was resting on his chest, he brought his arms around her body holding her to him. The peace he felt in this moment was all-encompassing. She had always brought that to him, even when she was challenging him in ways no one ever had before. “Dinner after shift on Saturday?”

“The new Mediterranean place on sixth?” She offered.

“Sure,” he wasn’t able to stop a yawn from escaping. Giving in he closed his eyes and let sleep come.

She said a quick prayer that all their cuddling last night and this morning wasn’t going to get him sick and derail their date.

Chapter Text

Lucy knew when she walked into roll call and saw the chair next to Nyla empty that her date with Tim had been derailed. Not that she was entirely surprised. She had been patient zero for a nasty flu virus that was currently working its way through the people closest to her. Jackson and Tamara had been home since Thursday with it, and now it was Tim’s turn. Knowing there were exactly two minutes before Grey started the briefing she pulled out her personal cell phone, sending Tim a quick text letting him know she’d be over after shift and asking if he needed anything before tucking the phone away.

With Jackson out, Lucy had been assigned desk duty at the precinct with Officer Yamada. Yamada, while nice enough, was not much in the way of conversation, making an already slow shift drag on even more. In between civilian complaints, she plotted out her grocery list, prioritized the chores and errands she hoped to complete tomorrow and took to making tally marks every time someone complained about traffic or mentioned how much of a hurry they were in. As soon as her shift was over she offered Yamada a quick goodbye and rushed to the locker room going through her change-out routine at record speed.

“I’m home,” Lucy announced almost an hour later as she entered the apartment she shared with Jackson and Tamara. She found them on the couch, each under a blanket, Snapped playing on the TV, “How are we feeling?” She took the grocery bags she was carrying into the kitchen, putting a gallon of orange juice and bottles of Gatorade in the refrigerator. “I replenished meds and supplies,” she informed them, placing boxes of tissues and the Day/NyQuil combo on the kitchen counter. She came into the living room and perched on the arm of the couch closest to Jackson, “there’s also soup. It’s warm now if you’re hungry, if not I’ll put it in the fridge.”

Jackson looked up at her, “you’re leaving us in our time of need?” It hadn’t escaped his notice that she hadn’t taken her shoes or jacket off or removed her cross-body bag.

Lucy fidgeted with the strap of her purse, “you guys are at the tail end of this flu, and I brought you everything you could need…”

“You’re ditching us for your date with Zaddy,” Tamara’s voice was still hoarse from coughing.

“Tim has it too. Day one, and he has the dog, and no one to help him.” He was only sick because he’d spent two days taking care of her with no thought to his own health.

“You’re ditching us in our time of need to go play nurse with Zaddy,” Tamara amended her first statement with an eye roll.

Lucy looked between them trying to gauge if they were annoyed or messing with her. “You both have been fever-free over twenty-four hours, and you guys have each other, and you can call me if you need anything, which you won’t, need anything I mean because I brought everything home you could possibly need or want.”

Jackson and Tamara exchanged a knowing look, “go, nurse Tim back to health,” Jackson shooed her away.

“Love you,” Lucy bent down to kiss his forehead, before climbing off the arm of the couch and moving over to Tamara, repeating the motion, “you too,” she told the girl, “seriously call if anything changes or you need anything.”

“Byyeee,” Tamara gave her a little wave and burrowed deeper into the couch cushions and blankets.

Tim knew with absolute certainty when he woke up that someone was in his house. He couldn’t tell you what time it was or how long he’d been asleep, but even through the flu-induced haze in his head, every instinct he had told him, someone, was in his house.

He pushed up off his stomach, trying not to groan at the effort the simple motion required, intent on getting his off-duty weapon, when he registered that the dog wasn’t barking. Not only was Cujo quiet, but he also wasn’t in Tim’s bed or his dog bed. Tim was pretty sure the dog had been pressed against his side when he’d fallen asleep.

He had just gotten to his feet when he heard the sound of kibble hitting a stainless bowl. Whoever was in his house was feeding his dog, and...singing. Now that the fog was lifting a bit from his brain he could hear someone singing what was pretty sure was a Taylor Swift song quietly. Lucy. She’d kept her promise to come over after shift. Tim smiled despite how awful he felt and followed the sound of her voice out of his bedroom. “I knew I should have taken that key back,” he joked when he found her in his kitchen. He’d given it to her, along with the code for the alarm, so she could dog-sit Cujo when he’d gone to New York for what had ended up being his breakup with Rachel.

“Tim!” Lucy lowered the flame underneath a pot of soup, and turned at the sound of his voice, “I didn’t mean to wake you. How are you feeling?” She crossed the small kitchen to the counter, leaning against it.

“Like I’ve been hit by a truck,” he lowered himself onto a stool across from her. He wanted to rest his head on the counter but forced himself to stay upright. “I’m sorry about our date.” He hoped she’d been thinking of it as a date that he’d made his intention clear enough.

Lucy shrugged, “we’ll go when you’re feeling better.” She let her gaze roam over his face. He was adorably rumpled, not a look she’d ever imagined for him, but somehow even a wrinkled t-shirt, bed head, and what she guessed was the indentation from his pillow or blanket on his cheek looked good on him. He also looked tired, and she knew that there was no such thing as too much sleep based on her own experience with this bug. “The soup will keep till tomorrow if you already ate and want to go back to bed.”

He did want to go back to bed, more than anything, he just wasn’t sure about his ability to get out of this stool at the moment. “I’m not hungry,” he admitted, hoping she hadn’t put too much effort into whatever soup she’d made him. Tim turned to bury his face in the crook of his elbow and let out a wracking cough. When he finally lowered his arm, Lucy had slid a glass of cold water in front of him.

“When’s the last time you took something?” Lucy’s back was to him, as she stirred the soup one last time, before turning off the burner entirely. She moved the pot off the hot burner. She’d let it cool and then put it in the refrigerator for tomorrow when she let Cujo out into the backyard for his final potty of the night.

Tim was watching her move around his kitchen with such comfort and confidence, like she belonged there, in his space. Like she’d always been there. While he was lost in thought about much he liked her in his kitchen she’d moved around the counter to stand next to him. She put her hands on his face gently, “cold,” he mumbled, but despite how cold her hands felt he didn’t try to move away from her touch.

“You’re burning up. When’s the last time you took something?” She repeated her previously unanswered question.

He just shrugged. “I think there’s another hour or two before I can take more.”

She dropped her hands from his face and wrapped her arms around him instead, “come on, let’s get you back into bed.” She’d get NyQuil and a glass of water in him when she let Cujo out in a couple of hours. The dog trotted ahead of them, his nails clicking on the hardwood, and jumped up to claim the foot of the bed.

Tim felt relief as soon as his body settled back into his bed and Lucy pulled the covers up around him. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this cold and tired. When the last time he’d been truly sick like this was. He felt the bed shift as Lucy carefully climbed over him, shifted under the covers, and settled in next to him. “Too far away.”

Lucy smiled in the dark of his room and moved closer to him, positioning herself so she was fully tucked into him, his chest her pillow. He immediately brought his arms up around her to hold her and keep her where he wanted her.

She had just closed her eyes when she realized with a start she’d left her phone in the kitchen. She thought briefly about going to get it but instead pushed off Tim just enough to reach for his phone on the nightstand. She was so tired herself. Going from being sick to taking care of Jackson and Tamara and now Tim was definitely taking a toll. If she was going to be awake in a couple of hours she’d need an alarm.

“That’s my phone.”

“I know,” she unlocked it using the passcode, her birthday, that she’d set one-day ages ago, not long after his divorce, after hearing Angela tell him that he couldn’t keep unlocking his phone using his wedding anniversary. She’d made him unlock it when they were in the shop between calls and changed it telling him now he’d never forget her birthday. He’d rolled his eyes but hadn’t put up much objection, “I need to set an alarm.” She put the phone back on the nightstand and settled back against him.

Tim desperately wanted to sleep, but he was too far out from his last dose of cold medicine for it to pull him under. He could only hope the sheer exhaustion would do the trick sooner rather than later. While he waited, he was happy to hold Lucy. “You smell good.” Trying to figure out where the subtle hint of strawberry that always surrounded her came from drove him crazy. His fingertips found the skin of her back exposed by her cropped sweatshirt, “you feel good too.” Lucy squirmed a bit at the unexpected touch, but he didn’t draw his hand away. Just kept lazily stroking her skin, “so soft. Everything about you is so soft.”

She scrunched up her face even though he couldn’t see it, “I think I’m insulted.” Soft and good police didn’t really go hand in hand. And she’d spent hours in the gym, hiking and running for these muscles thank you very much.

He abandoned the skin of her lower back and moved his hand up to the nape of her neck and into her hair. Tim sighed, “soft skin, soft hair, soft heart,” he’d bet her kisses were soft too.

Lucy pressed a tiny kiss to the underside of his jaw, “you need to sleep.” She’d barely been able to form and hold onto coherent thoughts when she’d been this sick and he was somehow launching what felt like a full-scale seduction with his hushed words and roaming hands.

Tim couldn’t hold back a yawn, when he felt it turn into a chest-rattling cough, he managed to turn his head away from Lucy. “Luce?” Her name was a question after a few minutes of silence.

“Hmm,” she was drifting asleep, content in his arms, despite the circumstance.

“All the times and all the ways I imagined having you in my bed…”

“Tim!” She interrupted, face flushed warm and red, “you are not even going to remember this in the morning.” How high was his fever anyway, maybe she should look in his bathroom for a thermometer, because she was pretty sure he was delirious.

“Definitely will,” he promised. His hands were back under her sweatshirt, fingers tracing idle patterns on her skin.

“Mmmhmm,” she hummed, “please go to sleep. Rest is what’s going to help your body heal.” After a few minutes, she felt his breathing even out. Her eyes had adjusted well enough in the dark, and she pushed up a little so she could see his face, and found his eyes closed. His fingers were still moving along the skin of her back though, so she was pretty sure he wasn’t fully asleep yet. Lucy lowered her head back down on his chest. The alarm clock on his nightstand glowed red. If she fell asleep now she had ninety minutes before she needed to wake up to let the dog out and give Tim the next dose of Nyquil at midnight.

“Lucy.”

“Tim,” her hand had found the collar of his blue t-shirt and she was running her finger over the ridges in the fabric. She could only wonder what he’d say next to make her blush.

He was quiet for a minute or two and she thought maybe he’d given up on what he was going to say, when he finally spoke, “no one has taken care of me like this in a long time,” his voice was hoarse from illness and laden with sleep, “maybe ever.”
Lucy didn’t know what to say to that admission. It broke her heart more than a little. Despite his hard exterior, she had figured out a long time ago, Tim was a marshmallow. When he cared about you, he did so fiercely and loyally. She’d watched him step up time and time again to take care of people and not just his people, but anyone who genuinely needed a little help. And if you were one of his people, she better than anyone knew there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for you.

“It’s nice,” he added, “I like it,” he sighed contentedly.

“Good,” she pressed another little kiss to the spot on his jaw, “get used to it,” she had a lot of care to give and she couldn’t think of anyone who needed or deserved it more.