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“Hey, how’d it go?”
She hasn’t even turned from the doorway yet, still tossing her keys in the bowl and shrugging off her jean jacket as she hangs it in the entryway closet. When she finally turns, she sees Tim lounging on the couch, a beer in one hand and a basketball game on the big screen that’s keeping Kojo mesmerized too. But his eyes are on her, flicking up and down her as though looking for visible exit wounds.
“It went fine,” Lucy says lightly, the smile not reaching her eyes as she slips out of her flats and leaves them by the door. “I’m gonna go change. It’s too hot for long sleeves.”
Kojo follows behind her, his tail wagging as he knows cuddles are in his near future now that the lady of the house is home.
Tim waits a whole eight minutes before realizing she hasn’t come back out to the living room. When he turns the corner to their bedroom (she moved in a month ago and suddenly it doesn’t feel like just “his” house or “his” room, everything is theirs), he sees her curled under the covers, head burrowed into Kojo’s fur as the sound of small sniffles escape her. She freezes when she hears the sound of him entering the room, going still as if he might not notice.
But of course he does.
“Lucy,” he sighs out, and it’s enough to break the dam of sobs she was containing. He’s quickly across the room, shoving aside Kojo and taking the dog’s place, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. “Hey, hey, none of that now, stop.” He murmurs words into her hair, trying to convince her to calm down even as he keeps a tight rein on his own anger and frustration that surfaces whenever she meets with her parents.
Finally, Lucy takes one last staggering breath, sniffling as she burrows deeper into the fabric of his t-shirt. “S-sorry.”
“I told you not to go,” he snaps in that very Tim Bradford way he does when things are happening out of his control.
She chuckles and drops a kiss on his chin, the only place she can reach right now from where she’s still burrowed into his chest. “No, you didn’t. You were supportive of whatever I wanted to do even if you thought it was a bad idea.”
“Well, it is a bad idea,” he snaps again. But he doesn’t have Lucy fooled. She knows it’s just his way of showing concern. “Forget about them, Lucy, they don’t matter. They-”
“But they do matter, they do! They’re my parents!” But she groans and shakes her head at herself even as she says it. She moves up a little in his arms so they’re face to face, not a worry about the smudged mascara and tears drying on her face. She just wants to look into his beautiful, strong eyes that always ground her no matter whether it’s a personal situation or a professional one on the streets.
“Well, what would you say,” he begins, using one of his favorite tricks to get Lucy to come around- accessing the psych major in her, “if one of your friends had a contentious relationship with their parents who weren’t supportive of them and their career choices and-”
Lucy scowls at him, knowing exactly what he’s doing. He smirks and points at her.
“See? I knew it. You’d tell them to let go of their expectations and the need for validation from people who aren’t willing to make compromises, and to be proud and confident of themselves. And to surround themselves with people who are proud of them and support them-”
Lucy narrows her eyes at him a little, tilting her head back to try and wonder where all that psychological analysis came from. “Where did you get all that from?” she asks suspiciously.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” he says, deliberately ignoring her question even as the tips of his ears begin to turn pink.
But Lucy’s on to something, and sure enough, five seconds later, her mouth drops open as her eyes go soft and lovestruck staring right at him. “ Oh my god, did you read a book about this?” One hand flies to her heart as if it might just beat right out of her chest at the revelation.
“I- well- it was an audiobook, to be precise, but-”
“Oh my god, you did!” The biggest smile stretches across her face, her eyes lighting up in joy and love as she cradles his face in her hands. She’s dropping kisses all over his face dramatically, his forehead, his cheeks, making him squirm as he tries to push her away and get free. “You are so sweet!”
“Okay, stop,” he grumbles even as he turns his head, their lips finally meeting so he can kiss her like he’s wanted to all afternoon. He sighs into it, thankful they’re past the tears and he can just hold her and soak in every bit of her. But before he can deepen the kiss, she’s pulling away again to grin at him, shaking her head in fondness.
“So sweet. Best, boyfriend, ever.” She punctuates each word with a smacking kiss to his lips that he can’t escape.
“Yeah, yeah, damn straight I am,” he just mumbles, trying to grab her again and get back to kissing.
“If only you weren’t so hideous.”
“Stop.” He rolls his eyes at her even as half a smirk escapes, trying not to be amused with her constant running joke on his good looks. He can’t help it that his face is this way, okay?
“I mean, then you’d be the total package, but instead,” she shakes her head at him mockingly even as her eyes glitter with laughter, “I can’t take you anywhere with a face like that.”
“Well, you’re clearly feeling better so I’ll go now.” Tim makes a move as if to get out of bed, but just as he knew she would, she grabs for him, holding him close and not letting him leave her side. “That’s what I thought.” He drops a kiss in her hair, runs a hand up and down her back to continue soothing her. “I just hate how they make you feel.”
“I hate it too. And you’re right, I need to get better about boundaries. And I’d give that same advice to anyone else, but it’s just different when it’s your own parents, you know?” She sighs, meeting his eyes, willing him to understand.
He makes a vague sound of agreement, nodding and thinking back all too well to Isabel and her addiction, the downward spiral of his marriage, the answers he didn’t want to see even though they were glaringly bright in front of him. “Believe me, I know.”
Lucy shifts a little so she can wrap her arms around him more comfortably, fingers playing with the collar of his t-shirt as she continues to smile up at him. The tears have dried. There's just a thankfulness for Tim radiating all around her, a coziness now that she’s home with her boyfriend and their dog.
“But thank you for your research. I appreciate it very much.” She drops a kiss at the corner of his mouth, smiling brightly at him. Before he can say anything else, offer to make an early dinner or a walk on the beach to tire Kojo out, she’s leaning again this time, kissing him the way she finally wants to now that the emotional turmoil of the day is set aside. She sighs into him, her whole body falling into his, hands running along the nape of his neck, lips urging his open as she sets a familiar rhythm that still makes her feel so warm and safe and giddy in love with him.
When he releases a low groan, she pulls away with difficulty, eyes hooded and lips wet as she stares up at him innocently. Well, as innocently as she can manage with the way her hormones have officially kicked into gear. “Maybe you can keep me company in bed, if you’re not too busy watching the game, that is,” she suggests coyly, her hands sliding up the hem of his T-shirt, grazing the firm muscles she has memorized underneath.
“What game?” he mutters, dropping generous kisses along the nape of her neck, smirking to himself at the moan she releases. He knows the exact spot that makes her come undone, just a millimeter or two below her tattoo, and he’s always willing to give it a little extra attention when she needs it.
So that’s exactly what he’ll do for the rest of the afternoon, give his girlfriend his undivided attention. Gladly. The game can wait.