you’d been seeing sammy for awhile, met him at a party in castaic that one of your friends dragged you to. you had whined about it being too far, but her cop boyfriend had been throwing it and she didn’t want to show up alone.

you never considered yourself a badge bunny, not really— until you met sammy. he had been eyeing you from across the room, and eventually, you had come and sat by (on) him. the rest played out with you happily following him home.

it was little lunch dates, walks in your neighbourhood, and usually spending the night at either of your places after work. things didn’t really become official until about a few months ago, when he introduced you to his son. he had nate for the weekend, and you were glued to him ever since.

sammy absolutely adored that you were so taken with nate. he had been afraid that having a kid would scare you off, but to his surprise, you and nate just clicked.

he had still been a baby but you were absolutely enthralled. you gave nate your full 100: attentive when he felt sick, have nonsensical conversation like he was socrates, buying him ice cream, and playing pretend like it was the most important thing in the world.

although you had been in nate’s orbit, you hadn’t known much about or even met tammi. it was your surprise that sammy had so subtly dropped that he had to get nate from tammi, while peppering kisses on your face and waiting for the morning to start.

clinging onto sammy’s bicep, you two had been waiting on a bench in front of the park. he insisted that you didn’t need to come, but you insisted that you’d go to the diner that made nate’s favourite waffles afterward.

tammi’s silver suv had pulled up in front of you, and she was not much of what you expected (not that you really had any expectations). tiredly coming out of the car, her hair was a disheveled bun of blond kinks and her tired eyes were lined haphazardly with black and shimmery purple. she looked absolutely exhausted, then absolutely irritated when her eyes met you.

“you should’ve told me you were bringing your badge bunny.” she spat, shutting the driver door behind her as you two approached the front of the car.

“hey, don’t call her that.” sammy rolled his eyes. “and it was a last minute thing.”

with hesitation, you stuck your hand out and introduced yourself, “hi, tammi, so nice to meet you.”

she scanned you up and down and shook her head with a sarcastic chuckle, “let’s get this over with.”

rounding the car, sammy led you to the passenger size with a reassuring grin and a hand on your lower back. tammi, with a glare at you, swung the door open and reached for the carseat.

she cooed at nate and sammy slipped in a hey, bud. you stood off to the side, unsure where to put yourself. fiddling with your jacket sleeves, you watched the two argue about the carseat as sammy rested nate on his hip.

“are you bringing her around nate?” she scolded, hand on her hip, voice attempting a whisper but failing.

“she is my girlfriend, so of course i am.” sammy said definitively, fixing the tiny collar of nate’s shirt.

“well, i don’t want your little girlfriend around our son.” tammi snapped.

although you were only a few feet away, they acted like you weren’t even there. it felt like when adults would fight in front of you. standing wide-eyed and half-guilty, you thought you should say or do something, even though you weren’t involved.

“you should’ve thought about that before you cheated on me and had that man play nate’s stepdad.” sammy responded before heading to your direction.

tammi scowled as sammy handed nate to you. he trekked back to her to get another word in about you and his home and how it wasn’t tammi’s business anymore.

when rested in your arms, nate’s eyes met yours with a smile and a giggle. your bewildered face switched to bliss as you bounced him on your hip.

“hello, nate, you want some waffles?” you teased, pinching his cheeks lightly. he babbled, hands playing with your hoop earrings— the inexpensive ones you made sure to wear around him. “yeah? we can get you some waffles from tony. you remember tony?”

as sammy and tammi’s argument came to a wavering finish, nate’s eyes stayed on you, arms dancing in the wind. with the crinkle in his eyes, a word that you shouldn’t have been there for slipped through his mouth, “mama.”

your face dropped, eyes darting to tammi, who grew even more furious.

“did he just say his first word?” sammy asked, an amused smile on his face as he looked at tammi’s anger.

chatter ran all around the house, because some reality show was on and you all had been hooting and hollering. he was in the kitchen, attempting to study for a french quiz. you padded in, tanktop and sweats with an empty glass in your hand.

with a smile his way, you turned to open the fridge, “hey, jacky.”

his eyes darted up, shifting in his seat. then, he was relieved it was you and not one of rachel’s more uppity, obnoxious friends. he kept his mouth shut anyway, turning focus back on his book.

there’s always been a soft spot for you. sure, you ran with that group, you were the mastermind behind a few harmless shenanigans. however, he tolerated— even liked you. maybe it was the way you spaced out your drinks, how you kept an eye out for allergies among the group, how you stuck around when someone felt sick. you were more… responsible.

after filling your glass with water, you moved to where jack was sitting and peered over his shoulder. immediately, he felt your presence on his back and your hand stable against the back of his chair.

“doing some reading?” you smirked, eyes moving to scan his face.

“i have a test,” he mumbled before turning to look at you. he was blushing, like really blushing, face hot and cheeks pink. you were leaned only inches above him, after all. face above his and arm around his chair.

“madame fowler?” you raised an eyebrow. slowly, he nodded. you continued, “cool, i have her for french 3.”

“you wanna help me study?” he watched as a grin danced on your mouth, terminating with a bite down on your bottom lip.

shaking your head, “i don’t know a lick of french. you’re on your own, buddy boy.”

with a harsh pat of his back, you made your way out of the kitchen. your pants rode low on your waist, creating a sliver of skin between your top and your sweats. eyes surfacing over your back, jack watched you sway away, shaking his head.

that's kind-of how it began. you'd slink around their house, around school, the neighbourhood, parties, anything to catch his attention. of course, he'd been watching, exhibiting perfect restraint.

when it started to get hot, though, something in him begged to differ.

the abbot pool was another go-to spot for your group. it was another excuse to prance around jack half-naked. this particular friday in may, it was you and naomi who joined rachel in her quest for tan skin. 

jack had been coming home from playing pick-up basketball with his friends. shirt stained in sweat, red curls pushed back, biceps pumped out of his sleeves. if you hadn’t been wearing those huge sunglasses, it would’ve been obvious you were ogling at him. you weren’t sure why you came through the back, though.

he looked right back at you, eyes piercing at that turquoise bikini on your lotion-glazed skin. your head was tilted back, exposing your neck. you had a book in hand, jane austen from what he could see on the cover. It rested over your stomach, both hands on either side. your ankles were crossed, legs glistening in the sun.

he had never really stared at anyone like this. You were blinding in the best way, shiny and beautiful. it was embarrassing how his mouth hung open, embarrassing how his eyes softened at the sight of you, embarrassing how he just stood there like an idiot. he wasn't usually like that, he was known as a classic charmer.

naomi, sitting furthest most from the gate, tilted her head over and caught jack, “gawk much?”

quickly, he adjusted his position, rubbing the back of his neck. “uh, rach, mom wants to know if they’re sleeping over.”

rachel, who had been laying so still for 20 minutes that you thought she was asleep, opened her eyes and scrunched her nose, “yeah… now, buzz off.” she waved her hand in the air, “i can smell you from here.”

jack nodded, looking away and trekking to the house with a sarcastic yeah, sorry. he caught a glimpse of you before going through the patio door.

with a smirk, you closed your book and placed it on the ground. sitting up, you were ready to follow him inside. slipping your t-shirt over your head, your legs fell to face naomi and rachel. you slipped your flip flops on as you stood, prepared to move out.

“don’t even think about it.” naomi spoke, unmoved from her position.

“w-what?” you furrowed your eyebrows at her. turning her head towards you, she lifted her sunglasses. hand over your hip, you gasped defensively, “i was going to get water.”

“mhmm, thirsty as hell,” naomi shook her head sarcastically, “i see the way he stares at you, like he wants to eat you up like the little tart you are.” she laughed, the joke being more for herself than you.

“ew, guys, are you talking about jack?” rachel whined, turning over to face down. her voice muffled in her towel, “that’s disgusting. keep me out of it.”

"need anything?" you raised an eyebrow at naomi before you made your way inside.

"you clearly do."

in the kitchen, jack had been biting into an apple, sifting through the mail on the table. he was still in his workout clothes, dampness slowly fading from his shirt. you shut the door behind you, making your way over to him. his eyes darted up, and you pressed a finger to your lips.

“hey,” he said lowly, cheeks flushed as a slow smile grew on his face. 

you neared him, palm pushing on the cold marble of the counter as your body entered his atmosphere. you nodded your chin up at him, only inches away.

"so." you began.

"so," he nodded back at you.

you saw jack press his lips together and his gaze fall to your mouth. his hand found your waist through the big t-shirt you'd thrown over. your skin was hot, but he didn't seem to mind.

leaning in, he was delicate with you. his mouth grazed over yours, kissing you softly. you giggled into it, not expecting him to be a good kisser. his body went flush against you, like it was meant to be there. it was soft little presses, the push of your head away, then the rebound back into him.

your hands met his chest eventually, patting lightly as you pulled away from him. his eyes eyes grew soft and wimpy, like he'd been available for you if you called.

"'kay, thanks." you whispered with a smile, moving away from him to return to the backyard.

you rendered him speechless, leaving him in the middle of the kitchen without explanation. he stood dumbfounded, embarrassed as he was when he had come home.

later into the evening, the girls had fallen asleep through dirty dancing, but you stayed awake. sneaking away from rachel's bedroom, you shut the door slowly as you spotted the light on in the laundry room.

knowing it was far too late for their parents to be awake, you toed your way over, catching a glipse of jack, who was messing with the dryer settings. in a t-shirt and his flannel pyjama pants, he caught your eye through the doorway and grinned.

"it's late," you said as the dryer started up.

he nodded, a smug, mocking look in his eye, turning to you, "'kay thanks? i don't think a girl has ever said that to me."

you got closer, resting your hands on his shoulders, batting your lashes at him, "well, how else was i supposed to thank you?"

he grinned, pressing his hands on your sides and caging you against the rumbling dryer. your fingers found their way up to his curls, running through just like you daydreamed of.

"i could think of a few things." he mumbled before pressing his lips to yours again.

if he felt particularly silly, sammy would take you from the stove and try to dance you around the kitchen. he’d say how much he missed his girl, turning laughs into pressed kisses. not that he was a dancer, but he’d sway you around and turn you in and out like you had been at the copacabana.

usually, you would eat on the bar that's attached to the kitchen if you were alone or having breakfast. sammy always insists dinner's in the dining room. he likes having the big table and using every bit of the house (in more ways than one).

sitting at the head of the table, he'd have his left hand on your knee, rubbing circles up and down while he ate. you'd talk about some random things: how your job was, what cases he worked on, the new tv show your friend suggested.

or

you'd invite all his coworkers and their families over for a barbeque, making it an excuse to use the pool. you're a great host— refreshing everyone's drinks throughout the afternoon, checking in on sammy near the grill, chatting with the other wives and his coworkers, playing bartender any chance you got.

sammy made sure to tell you that, lingering during conversations he wasn't necessarily present in by running his hands up and down your arms and mumbling how proud he was of you. he'd rest his chin on your shoulder, kissing you on the cheek before returning to the grill.

or

some days were just lazy. when either of you didn't have work, you stayed in bed until your stomach demanded you get up. sammy couldn't start any morning without being pressed against you in any capacity.

he had that classic sleepy rasp to his voice in the morning. talking about how he loves waking up next to you and how good he slept, he'd run his hands over your thighs and legs, coercing you towards him.

if you felt like it, you two went all out for breakfast. the kitchen was so nice and you loved watching sammy cook. both of you hadn't changed out of your underwear, sammy in a white t-shirt and you in sammy's academy t-shirt. you sat on the island, watching him work on the stove.

he cooked pancakes perfectly— he had a thing about whisking you couldn't quite understand, and he was strangely a master with a spatula. he'd give you kisses in between flips, mumbling things that could be done today (but probably wouldn't).

later, curling up on the couch was a favourite activity of yours. you'd put on some movie haphazardly chosen, just so you could be close to him. there'd be snacks sometimes, sharing a bowl of popcorn or chips and giggling every time your fingers brushed like high schoolers.

the talking was random quips about what you were watching or something you'd forgotten to tell him earlier or something you had mentioned to him in passing that he remembered.

“In here, honey.” You said from the dining room, which faced into the main hallway. He turned around with a tired smile playing on his lips. You were at the dining table, laptop in front of you and notebooks, pens, and papers strewn across the large slab of cherry wood.

“What do we got here?” He teased, rounding the table to get to you. As soon as he approached you, his cold lips met your bare shoulder, causing you to jump a little.

“Mikey,” you yelped, back straightening quickly. He laughed into your skin, pressing more kisses along your shoulders and neck. His arms went around you, hands resting against either side of your elbows on the edge of the table.

“C’mon, baby, I’ll draw us a bath.” He mumbled, mouth by your ear.

“Can’t. I have to study.” You exhaled, bringing a hand to rub the tense part of your neck. His head lifted, looking up at your laptop, which had YouTube open. You tilted your head to look at him hovering over your shoulder and he smirked.

“Is this studying?”

“I was taking a break.” You rolled your eyes and reached your hand out to ruffle his hair. He leaned into you as you did so. “How was work?” You asked, more softly as you placed a kiss on the peak of his cheekbone.

His face, warmed by your touch, blushed and he kissed your cheek back. When his eyes met yours, he caught your lips in his, quickly and hungrily. His head pushed into you as you went with it, pushing back against him and letting your hand find the back of his head. As you pulled away, his lips trailed yours but you refused.

“Baby, that’s not an answer.” You mumbled, lips nearly touching his, and leaned your head back against his shoulder. He crowded into you with a smile and he placed a kiss on your chest.

“I can tell you about it in the bath.” He teased, mouth trailing up your neck but not quite kissing. He left a quick suck at the underside of your jaw, where you so graciously let him through the tilt of your head.

“I have a study guide to finish.” You breathed, looking up at him. “Should order food or somethin’.”

“Mmm,” he shook his head, “After a bath.”

“What’d you eat today, Robby?” You asked, hands going to grab your phone. His hand moved to run up and down your bicep as you did so.

He kissed the top of your head and you felt the vibration of his voice as he mumbled, “Power bar and coffee.”

“Those power bars taste like shit.” You complained as you turned on your phone, searching for any food app. “What do you want to eat?”

His head returned to the side of your face and he smiled mischievously, “I think you know what I want.”

You ignored him, “We could do pizza? Or Thai food, that sounds good.”

He nudged his head towards the hallway, “C’mon, come take a bath with me.” He grinned, brushing his head against yours, “Can you spare twenty minutes for this old man?”

“Uh, uh.” You shook your head at him and put down your phone, “I know you, Robby. Besides, this is, like, thirty percent of my grade.”

“What’s your GPA again? Three point nine, nine, nine…” He trailed off as he started kissing down your neck again. The heat of his breath made you lean back into him and begin to question if you really cared about your history class. You let your eyes close and indulged in the squeeze of his hand on your arm and the hair on his beard sweeping down your neck. When he reached your collarbone, you surrendered, exhaling like you needed it and shoulders dropping from being so wound up. “There’s my girl.”

“Robby.” You tried to protest, but it came out more like a plea. Your face met his and his nose brushed on yours. Eyes struggling to keep open, you watched his eyes roam around you and muttered, “It’s a lot of work.”

“You did too much already.” He said selfishly, knowing damn well you barely finished half of it. He knew your procrastination methods, but he also knew when you were overwhelmed. “Come take it out on me.”

“Okay,” you whispered.

You got up from the chair, stretching your back as you stood. His hands couldn’t stay off of you, from your arms trailing to grasp the small of your back. You reached your arms around his neck and rested against him. The soreness of your sides became tender as his hands pressed into you.

“We can do the bubbles this time.” He whispered into your hairline, planting a kiss on your forehead. You beamed, smiling as he led you to the hallway and towards the bathroom.

In the bath, you rested against Robby’s chest and had your eyes closed. His hands rubbed circles up and down your arms under the warm water. The heat felt like heaven on your skin, comfortable and destressing, not to mention the solidity of Robby behind you. He pressed kisses behind your ear and you felt every bit of his face on your neck. You played with the bubbled soap under your fingers, allowing yourself to drift off.

“You’re lucky you’re so persuasive.” You said, leaning your head back into his shoulder. Opening your eyes, you tilted your head towards Robby, who was looking down at you with a smile on his face.

He hummed, nodding his head at you, “When is your test, anyway?”

“Tomorrow.” You responded, placing a kiss onto the left side of his neck.

“Oh, sweetheart,” He sighed at himself, throwing his head back. “Should’ve led with that.”

“S’okay,” you grinned, kissing along his beard and up to his cheek, “I’m here anyway.”

He leaned his head down to plant a heavy kiss on your lips.

The night ended like most nights did, on the big leather chair in the living room. It was worn, but classy, and felt like it belonged exactly where it was, among Robby’s half-read books and your own trinkets— ceramic turtle from the beach, tiny stuffed bear Paul Revere.

The glow from his lamp was the only thing lighting the room, warm and making everything feel hazy. Half-eaten Pad Thai, plastic containers, and empty glasses sat on the coffee table before you. It was quiet, other than the occasional car passing on the street and the flipping of pages.

In a t-shirt that was older than you and brand new underwear bought on one of the many Robby-funded shopping sprees, you curled up on Robby’s lap, flipping through your notebook. Glasses on the bridge of his nose, he had a random biography in one hand, the other hand was rubbing the middle of your back. Sure, there was an entire couch beside you, but Robby and the chair was your space.

Every so often, Robby was unable to flip the page in his book and you did it for him. You tucked your head into the crook of his neck, mumbling nonsense under your breath as you reviewed your notes. Neither of you ever really spoke, touch was enough to communicate.

At some point, you didn’t really care about your final, eyes grew drowsy and you allowed yourself to embrace the warmth of Robby against you. You folded up your notebook and slid it onto the coffee table, noting to yourself to get it in the morning. He closed up his book and wrapped his arms around you.

You fell into the same rhythm as every other night: He’d kiss you on the forehead and stroke a hand through your hair when it started getting late. Then, he’d insist it was time for bed with a sweet hum.