Chapter Text
Lucy isn’t sure what woke her up in the first place.
God knows her and Tim have barely been able to get any sleep since they have started their new positions. They got home late last night after another long day at work because Smitty lost another shop an hour before shift ended. They came home moving on auto-pilot. They ate something from the fridge that mildly resembled dinner, got ready for bed, and crashed. HARD.
But now it is 2:30 a.m. and Lucy has been staring at the ceiling for 20 minutes. The red glow of the alarm clock burns in the dark like it’s mocking her. She would be more annoyed at the abrupt disruption of her sleep schedule if she could just get her brain to slow down for a minute. She is wired, with no evidence that her brain is planning on slowing down anytime soon.
Did I switch the laundry?
What if Kojo gets sick? How will we even know? What if we are at work?
Oh shoot- work! Did I respond to that email?
Oh my God what if I die first and Tim has to- okay cool, hate that.
Oh my God what if he dies first!?!?!?
She looks over at Tim who is very asleep next to her. One heavy arm around her waist, palm warm and splayed against her side under his shirt that is now hers. His breathing is slow, even, the kind of sleep that comes from pure exhaustion. His mouth is slightly open, lashes resting heavy against his cheeks, completely unbothered by the existential crisis happening six inches away.
She sighs softly.
Tim makes a low noise in his throat and unconsciously pulls her an inch closer.
She melts for half a second.
We need to go grocery shopping. We HAVE to stop eating out so much.
Oooooo I wonder if Genny would want to bring the boys by this weekend?
Am I more of a boy mom or a girl mom? Tim is DEFINITELY a girl dad.
Wait-
She knows she shouldn’t wake him up.
She knows he hasn’t been sleeping much since he started as watch commander. But . . . maybe she could just ask him this question really quick and they can go back to bed like it never happened. He really won’t mind. Maybe it will help her mind settle.
She tilts her head slightly and whispers.
“Tim.”
Nothing.
She waits.
“. . . Tim.”
He makes a noise between a snore and an exhale.
She squirms under his arm and pokes his chest.
Nothing.
She pokes again.
“Tim.”
His brow furrows. His arm tightens around her automatically.
He is sooooo cute.
I bet we would have cute babies.
She pokes again.
“Mmmmm stop arresting me,” he grumbles.
Lucy bites her lip to keep from giggling. “Timmmm.”
His eyes stay closed. “You’re poking me.”
“I can’t sleep.”
“Have you tried . . . not doing that,” he sighs.
Her jaw drops slightly and she flicks his bicep. “Wow how have I not thought of that. What would I do without you?”
He shifts, dragging her closer until her forehead bumps his collarbone. His hand slides lazily up and down her back under the shirt, absent, soothing. His palm is warm and heavy, moving in slow, mindless passes like he’s petting a very anxious cat.
“Brain too loud?” he mutters drowsily.
She pauses.
“. . . Yeah.”
“Mm.”
She traces a line over his chest with her fingertip. “Do you think we are going to have a boy or a girl?”
His eyes shoot open at that. Suddenly more alert than he has been all night. He looks down until he meets her eyes.
“Luce . . .”
“What?” she asks innocently. “I was thinking you are definitely a girl dad, but what if I’m a boy mom? What will we do then?”
“Lucy,” his seriousness now evident in his tone.
She realizes what he must be thinking.
“Oh no- Tim. I’m not pregnant. At least I don’t think,” she says contemplatively.
He finally lets out a small exhale. His head drops to the pillow with a soft thud of relief.
“If I were pregnant I wouldn’t tell you at 2:30 in the morning.”
“Mhmm. Now that we’ve got that settled -” He begins to drift off. He adjusts them and finally lets his eyes close again. His nose nudges into her hair on instinct.
Silence settles again. The ceiling fan humming faintly above them.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Hmmm?” He grumbles against her hair.
“Do you think we are gonna have a boy or a girl?”
“A girl,” he mumbles.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Lucy. I don’t know. Can we please talk about this tomorrow?”
“I guess. But I don’t think that it’s fair you get to decide,” she says defensively.
“Get to decide what?”
“Whether they are gonna be a boy or girl.”
“Luce, you know I don’t get to decide. What are you even talking about?”
“Your sperm, Tim. I don’t even get a say. I don’t think that’s fair since I have to carry the thing for like ever and then push it out. I think I should be able to have some input.”
“Lucy, I’m sorry you don’t think it’s fair. But, we have to wake up for work in like 3 hours, so let’s please try to go back to sleep and we can talk about the injustices of my sperm tomorrow.”
His voice is thick with sleep, words slightly slurred, his breath warm where it fans across her hairline. One of his fingers hooked loosely in the hem of her shirt.
Lucy huffs a quiet laugh through her nose. “Wow. That’s romantic.”
The room is still except for the low whir of the ceiling fan and the faint rush of a car passing somewhere far down the street. The world outside their bedroom feels very far away.
Tim makes a noncommittal noise, already halfway gone again.
She shifts, pressing her cheek more fully against his chest. His heartbeat is slow and steady under her ear, a grounding rhythm that her own body seems to instinctively try to match.
“. . . You’re going to be such a good dad,” she murmurs. Softer now. No teasing.
He doesn’t answer right away. She thinks he’s fallen back asleep.
Then his thumb drags once, lazily, along her back.
“Yeah,” he mutters. “You too.”
She grins and she feels her chest tighten just a fraction.
Well I’m not gonna be a dad but okay, point still stands.
Her thoughts finally start to dull, like someone turned the knob down a notch.
“I still think I should get a vote,” she adds, stubborn even now as sleepiness begins to tug at her.
“ You can pick the middle name,” he mumbles.
She smiles against his chest. “Generous.”
His breathing evens out again, deeper this time. His body going heavy in a way that means he’s fully gone. One leg shifts, automatically trapping hers between his like muscle memory.
Lucy lies there for a moment longer, staring into the dark.
Laundry can wait.
Emails can wait.
Hypothetical children can definitely wait.
Her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, feeling the familiar softness worn into it from years of wear. The certainty she feels about their future finally calming the storm of her thoughts.
She presses a small kiss into his chest.
“I love you,” she whispers.
Tim exhales, barely conscious.
“Love you . . .”
His hand tightens just slightly at her back, even in sleep.
And this time, when she closes her eyes, sleep comes easy.