Ellithera

The scene where Chris sings the barrel song except Lucy has a panic attack and runs away from him and locks herself in a bathroom! She won’t open the door for anyone and Tamara calls Tim!

(i’m giving up on you)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44567389/chapters/112105252

In which Tim and Lucy put the toys he found to good use. 

Another story finished! This one has been challenging to write at times, and I’ve almost wanted to give up more than once, but it’s complete and I’m actually happy with the ending!

I hope you enjoy! 😘

Ashley plugs the MP3 player in, using the charging cord in the box, and then puts the headphones on. She presses the play button, her heart pounding, and she doesn’t know what she expected, but it isn’t this.

“Split Second Leadership: Leading Men in the Line of Duty by Curtis Philbrook. Read by: the best rookie you’ve ever trained. Chapter 1. True leadership generates respect, not fear. It elevates people rather than diminishing them. The number one mistake …"  

Ashley presses pause, and then fast forward.

The recording continues on for what seems like hours.

“Weird,” she murmurs. She unplugs the headphones from the first MP3 player and then sets up the second one. She presses play, and immediately the same soft, melodic voice floats through the headphones.

Mind the tags on this one, please! ;) New Story just posted! 

“I love you,” Tim breathes, and it’s easier than he’d thought it would be to say those three simple words. “Lucy, I am in love with you. I have been in love with you for a long time, and I will love you for the rest of my life.”

Lucy doesn’t speak, and Tim smiles softly as he watches her eyes widen.

She doesn’t pull away, though, so Tim caresses her cheek with his thumb and continues.

“You almost died, Lucy, and it became… very clear, all of a sudden. I am so in love with you, and I will not waste another moment denying that fact.”

In which Tim needs a hug. 

Tim has been doing CPR for exactly three hundred and thirty seven seconds when the EMTs arrive, and Lucy still isn’t breathing.

OR

Post 2x11, Lucy is without oxygen inside of the barrel for several minutes, and she has a long road to recovery ahead of her.

Luckily, her friends will be there for her every step of the way.

“You’re gonna need to stop that, Lu,” Tim warns, and Lucy smiles as she turns over in his arms.

“Why?”

Tim stares at her, his hair disheveled and his eyes still glazed with sleep. His chin and cheeks are covered in a thin layer of stubble, and as Lucy reaches up to dance her fingers over it, she finds herself wondering what his stubble would feel like between her thighs.

“Why do I need to stop, Tim?” she asks again, and Tim groans and drops his hands to her hips as she rolls over and sits on top of his lap. Their change in position causes Tim’s length to press right over her center, and he groans at the heat and wetness he feels there.

“Because I only have so much self control, Lucy,” he says, and he’s biting his lip as he rubs his thumbs in circles on her hips.

She knows that she needs this time for her and Tim, and that Lilly will be perfectly fine without them for one single night.

It’s not selfish to want a night alone with Tim.

“But,” Tim continues, as he walks over and sits on the bed next to her. “If you want to, we will drive over there right now and pick her up. It’s up to you, baby.”

Lucy glances back and forth between Tim’s face, understanding and unfairly handsome, and the toys he’s beginning to set out, and she knows she wants this. She wants this so bad, and she’ll be feeling more relaxed and on after a night of just them.

“She’ll be fine,” she murmurs, and Tim smiles as he leans down and kisses her. “Angela will call if she needs us.”

It’s adorable, and a little bit heartbreaking, to see her confusion when she wakes up on Christmas Eve and just stands in the middle of the living room, sucking on her fingers and staring at the presents under the tree. Tim had stayed up well past midnight wrapping them, and none of them are wrapped particularly well, but he’d been excited to see Charlotte’s reaction regardless.

He’d been expecting smiles and sparkling eyes and grabby hands.

He hadn’t been expecting confusion.

She turns to him, her fingers slipping out of her mouth, and points to the presents under the tree.

“Tim,” she gasps, and he grins as he bends down and presses a barely there kiss to her spine.

They both know what they’re doing.

They both know they’re teetering on the edge of something, and that this massage is not just for her aching back, but neither of them stops it.

Neither of them calls it quits.

OR

Tim and Lucy play Sex Chicken, and they're both determined to be the one who holds out longest.

“I killed him,” Tim says again, just in case she didn’t understand, but Lucy just makes a noise and grabs for her body wash. It smells like lavender, and Tim wants to complain but he finds that he doesn’t actually mind.

“I know, Tim,” Lucy says again, and Tim makes a confused noise. She steps back and looks up at him, and she must see that he’s struggling because she pauses, the loofah in her hand soaked in body wash. “I know. You killed him, to save me.”

“I was so mad,” he whispers, and Lucy nods, making a soft noise of understanding as she presses the loofah to his chest. She scrubs gently, and Tim shudders as the scent of her surrounds him. He’s spent the past five months surrounded by this scene in the shop, and it’s comforting and calming. “I was so mad and I just… I just didn’t stop, and he’s dead.”

OR

AU from the end of 2x10

“Tim? Oh my god! Tim.”

Tim Bradford turns, his heart clenching and his arms tightening around the toddler on his hip, as the soft voice of his biggest regret washes over him.

His eyes sweep her up and down, and she’s just as beautiful as the last day he saw her. She looks and sounds the exact same. Her warm, brown waves of hair, her bright, sparkling eyes… she’s still the most exquisite thing he’s ever seen in his life, and the past five years away haven’t dimmed that in the slightest.

How had it already been five fucking years?