Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Luna had always known she’d be a fantastic grandmother.

She had the cookies. The cardigans. The comforting presence that could de-escalate even Angela mid-rant. What she didn’t have yet, was a grandchild. And that was a problem.

“Wade,” she said, stirring creamer into her coffee with purposeful aggression, “I want grandbabies.”

Across the kitchen, Sgt. Grey barely looked up from his newspaper. “Good morning to you too, honey.”

“I’m serious,” she said, setting down her spoon with a clink. “We’re surrounded by beautiful, capable young people in the prime of their lives. And not one of them is even close to settling down!”

Sgt. Grey sighed, folding his paper. “Luna, you do realize Nolan is dating Bailey, right?”

“I said settling down, not shacking up,” she sniffed. “Besides, Nolan’s practically a grandpa himself.”

From the hallway, footsteps approached.

“Morning!” Nolan walked in, followed by Jackson and Lucy, all three smelling faintly of coffee, leather, and tired optimism. “Luna, your breakfast burritos are famous at the station now. Tim nearly smiled.”

“Oh, he smiled,” Lucy said under her breath. “I saw a corner twitch.”

Luna perked up, eyes gleaming. “Speaking of Tim…”

Lucy blinked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason,” Luna said innocently. “Just thinking about how good you'd look holding a baby.”

Lucy dropped her fork.

Jackson choked on orange juice.

Sgt. Grey muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “I need to retire.”

Later that morning, at Mid-Wilshire, Tim Bradford walked into the briefing room with a mug of black coffee and an aura that dared anyone to start something. Naturally, Nyla and Angela did.

“You know Luna’s on a mission now, right?” Angela said, grinning.

“Yeah,” Nyla added, leaning against the whiteboard. “Operation: Grandchildren. She named it. Out loud. I heard her say it to Nolan here.” She gestured toward Nolan, who nodded solemnly.

“She has a chart,” John confirmed. “Like an actual wall chart. Names, compatibility scores, fertility windows. It’s...extensive.”

Tim stared at them. “Please tell me I’m not on it.”

“Oh, you’re at the center,” Angela laughed. “Like the sun. And all the possible options? Orbiting.”

Tim’s jaw flexed. “I need more coffee.”

Meanwhile, Luna Grey stood in her garden, clipboard in hand, talking to Tamara over a pitcher of lemonade.

“I’m not saying Lucy and Tim need to be a couple,” Luna said, clicking her pen. “But if they were, hypothetically, dating by the department holiday party, I wouldn’t be opposed.”

Tamara smirked. “Are you bribing me to help you ship them?”

“I prefer the term guiding destiny,” Luna said sweetly. “Now tell me, what kind of music do the kids fall in love to these days?”

Back at the station, Lucy cornered Jackson in the break room. “Did Luna seriously ask if I wanted to co-parent a dog with Tim?”

“Not a dog,” Jackson said. “A ‘trial run baby.’ With fur.”

Lucy put her head on the counter.

“Don’t worry,” Jackson added cheerfully. “She asked me if I wanted to propose to Angela next week.”

“You’re her rookie,” Lucy groaned. “Why is she involving you?”

“Because apparently, she’s everyone’s mom now. And she wants grandkids. Plural. Like... a whole precinct full.”

Lucy sighed. “We’re doomed.”

Chapter Text

The Greys’ living room had never been louder. Or more full.

Every seat was taken, Tim perched stiffly on the armrest of a chair, Lucy cross-legged on the floor by Jackson, who was half-leaning into Bailey’s bean dip, while John tried and failed to get Tamara and Luna to stop arguing about astrology signs.

Sgt. Wade Grey watched it all from his recliner with the look of a man who’d accepted that chaos was now a permanent condition of his living room.

“Leo moon and Scorpio sun do not mean you’re destined for heartbreak!” Luna insisted, pointing a chip at Tamara.

Tamara raised an eyebrow. “They literally fight in my sleep.”

From her spot on the couch, Angela rolled her eyes and muttered to Nyla, “Why did we come again?”

“Free food and front-row seats to Luna’s matchmaking meltdown,” Nyla whispered back.

Luna, hearing nothing and everything, suddenly stood up, drink in hand, eyes scanning the room like a military commander about to assign couples.

“You know,” she said, smiling that dangerous Luna™ smile, “it’s just so interesting how much chemistry exists in this room.”

Everyone froze.

Jackson took a slow sip of soda. John shifted slightly behind Bailey, as if trying to disappear. Lucy visibly tensed, and Tim’s jaw tightened like he could sense incoming emotional danger.

“Luna...” Sgt. Grey warned gently from his recliner.

“No, no,” Luna continued, eyes gleaming. “I’m not saying anything. I’m just observing. Like, look at Lucy and Tim! All that banter, that tension? It’s classic 'slow burn.’ Like a Hallmark movie with tactical gear.”

Tim coughed like he’d swallowed a fork.

“And Jackson and Tamara, how cute would that be? Roommates to romance? I’d watch that show!”

Tamara’s head snapped toward Jackson. “What? Ew. That’s like dating my plant.”

Jackson blinked. “We’ve shared Cheetos. That’s sacred.”

“And don’t even get me started on John and Bailey, you two are practically already married. Honestly, John, if you don't propose by Christmas, I will.”

Bailey gave a noncommittal laugh. John looked panicked.

Then Luna turned her sights on the final, unspoken pair.

“And you know,” she said casually, eyes sparkling, “Angela and Nyla would make such a stunning couple. Power couple. Like… emotional homicide detectives meets high-fashion lesbians.”

Angela gave Nyla a flat look.

Nyla raised her brow, unfazed. “We’re both married. One to a husband. The other to motherhood.”

“Minor details!” Luna waved off. “Besides, there’s tension.”

Angela groaned. “You want tension?”

And then, without warning,just to shut Luna up, Angela leaned over and kissed Nyla full on the mouth.

It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t sweet. It was the exasperated kind of kiss you throw out just to prove a point.

And that’s when it backfired.

Because Luna gasped and then beamed. “Oh my God.”

Angela pulled back, eyes wide. “No. No. Don’t you dare.”

“Oh my God,” Luna repeated, more convinced this time. “You two would be incredible together. Did you see that? The way Nyla didn’t even flinch? That was mature intimacy. That was history!”

Nyla, smirking, dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “She kisses like she threatens, quick and terrifying.”

Angela shoved a pillow in her face. “I hate this family.”

Wade finally stood up, walked over, and gently pulled his wife back down onto the couch like she was a helium balloon threatening to float away. “Honey,” he said softly, “stop shipping the entire precinct.”

“But they’d be so powerful-”

“Luna.”

She sighed, leaning into his side. “Fine. But if Lucy and Tim aren’t dating by Valentine’s Day, I am setting them up with matchmaking goats.”

Everyone blinked.

Lucy turned to Jackson. “Did she say goats?”

“She said goats.”

Tim stood up abruptly. “I’m going on patrol.”

“It’s 8 p.m. on your day off,” John called.

“Exactly.”

And with that, Tim walked out, trailed moments later by Lucy, who was definitely not following him on purpose.

Bailey raised a brow. “You think they’ll kiss before or after the goat thing?”

“Before,” Jackson said, grabbing a cookie. “They’ll kiss because of the goat thing.”

Luna just smiled.

Chapter Text

The door creaked open with the slow, suspenseful groan of someone who knew they were walking into a disaster zone and was honestly kind of into it.

Wesley, wearing the world’s most unsuspecting lawyer-smile and holding a bottle of wine, stepped into the Grey household and surveyed the scene.

“Wow,” he said, eyes trailing over the scattered chips, empty glasses, and Luna Grey mid-rant about 'moon signs dictating baby names.' “This is... peak squad chaos.”

“Welcome to the chaos,” Jackson said, not looking up from the game he and Tamara were losing spectacularly.

Angela, lounging on the couch with her arms crossed and a deep sigh in progress, looked up at her husband with the tiredness of a woman whose night had already gone on too long.

Wesley bent to kiss her cheek. “Sorry I’m late, traffic was-”

“You’re just in time,” Luna chirped from the other end of the room, now armed with an iPad open to her spreadsheet. “We were just discussing which of our beautiful couples is going to give me a grandbaby first. You two are high on the list, naturally.”

Wesley blinked. “Oh?”

Angela groaned. “Don’t-”

Too late.

With the bright-eyed optimism of a man who really should’ve known better by now, Wesley grinned and said, “Well, if it helps Luna’s peace of mind… I’d be happy to get Angela pregnant.”

The room went dead silent.

Even Luna paused, shocked into silence.

Jackson’s mouth dropped open. Tamara choked on her soda. Sgt. Grey quietly reached for a second bourbon.

Angela stared at Wesley for exactly two seconds, then stood, grabbed his sleeve, and dragged him bodily toward the kitchen.

The last thing the squad heard before the swinging door flapped shut was Angela hissing:

“Do not offer to get me pregnant in front of my coworkers like it’s a goddamn raffle, Wesley!”

Out on the porch, Tim and Lucy sat side by side on the steps, both holding cold drinks and doing their best to stay out of the warzone.

They’d escaped ten minutes earlier after Luna had started assigning zodiac-compatibility points to everyone’s love life and accidentally ranked Lucy and Tim with a 98% match.

“...ninety-eight,” Lucy muttered again, shaking her head.

Tim didn’t look at her. “You can’t argue with the math.”

Lucy snorted. “I absolutely can. I majored in psych. People are chaos.”

Inside, a crash echoed from the kitchen, followed by a sharp “Do I look like I’m ovulating?” and Wesley’s muffled, “I said eventually! Not right now!”

Tim blinked. “You know, I honestly thought I was gonna be the one to start a scene tonight.”

Lucy leaned her shoulder slightly into his, grinning. “Angela out-chaosed you. Impressive.”

He huffed a small laugh. “She’s a pro.”

They sat in companionable silence for a beat. The summer air buzzed with cicadas and the occasional cackle from inside.

Then Lucy said, “You think Luna’s serious about the goats?”

Tim looked at her, very serious. “I don’t doubt that woman about anything.”

Chapter Text

The porch light where Tim and Lucy sat glowed faintly, as they were sipping their drinks and trying to decompress after the chaos inside. The night was warm, the kind of Southern California summer air that carried the scent of impending doom.

Then the front door slammed open so hard it bounced off the wall.

Angela stormed out in full righteous fury, heels clicking sharply across the wooden porch. Behind her, Wesley followed, looking apologetic, confused, and about ten seconds from lawyer-ing himself into a hole.

“Angela-babe-can we just talk about-”

“No, no we cannot, Wesley, because apparently you think the miracle of childbirth is something to be offered casually at dinner like a breadstick!”

Tim and Lucy both turned, eyes wide.

Tim rose immediately because when Lopez was mad, you didn’t sit still. That was basic survival.

Angela stalked right past him, pacing back and forth like a lioness on the verge of mauling her mate. Wesley hovered behind her, wary but hopeful.

“I mean, seriously?! Get me pregnant? In front of Grey? In front of Luna? She clapped like it was bingo night! And then Jackson texted me an article about VITAMINS?!”

Tim stepped forward and gently caught her by the shoulders. “Okay. Hey. Deep breath. Let’s not commit a felony on the front lawn.”

Angela didn’t stop. She threw her arms up, still in the hug, still ranting. “And it’s not even the getting pregnant part, Bradford! It’s the fact that he said it like it was fun! Like, oh sure, lemme just, bam! sperm donation station, open for business!”

Tim made a choked sound somewhere between a cough and a prayer.

Lucy, hiding her laugh poorly, stood up and casually swapped places with him.

“Okay, that’s enough out of you,” she said gently, slipping into the hug and guiding Angela against her shoulder with practiced ease. “Come on, deep breaths. No more reproductive metaphors.”

Angela didn’t resist. In fact, she leaned into Lucy, still muttering, “Like we don’t already have a niece who thinks yelling POOP in church is a personality…”

Tim backed away like he’d stepped on a grenade. He turned to Wesley, who had the stunned, guilty look of a man who just remembered he forgot his wife’s birthday.

Tim clapped him on the shoulder. “Good luck, man.”

Wesley just nodded, helpless. “Thanks. I think I made it worse.”

“You absolutely did.”

From the porch, as Lucy quietly comforted Angela and Wesley stood nearby trying to think of a legally safe apology, Tim sat back down beside them and shook his head with a faint smile.

Behind him, laughter and arguing spilled through the open windows of the house. Inside, Luna was already telling Bailey and Tamara she had a “good feeling” about Gemini babies born in May.

Tim sipped his drink.

“I swear,” he muttered to no one in particular, “next time I’m bringing earplugs and a taser.”

Lucy glanced over Angela’s shoulder and met his eyes, smile twitching, eyes warm.

“Still better than paperwork,” she mouthed.

Tim huffed a laugh. Barely.