#emmilina

"More sense than keeping a house without a mortgage?"

"If you don't want to live there, sure." He means it, too. He's live a lot of places; this one doesn't even feel that important to him. "Besides, somehow most of our big moments have been at your apartment. First kiss, first argument, first ... non-argument." He smirks. "And you like living here."

"I don't dislike your house," Lucy argues, and Tim pulls a face. "I don't! It's just so ... plain. There's nothing personal on the walls. It needs some color!"

"OK, so how about this?" Tim reaches for her hands. "If you move in with me, you're right. There's no rent. And we can redecorate. However you want."

"Really?"

"Sure. You did good with this place. It's cozy. Colorful, like you said, with the ..." He gestures at the orange wall.

"Accent wall," Lucy supplies.

"Yeah, that. We can have an accent wall."

Lucy smiles, leaning in to kiss him softly.

But in case you forget: nightmare prompt #16.

16. "Look at me. I'm real. Hold my hand if you need proof. I'm real, and your dream was not."

Tim repeats the words softly, a soothing litany from where he's kneeling next to Lucy's side of the bed. His hand rests on top of the quilt, palm up and fingers loose in open invitation.

Lucy is sitting against the headboard, breathing hard and staring into an unseen distance. Whatever she was dreaming about, she doesn't need to speak for Tim to see how much it's upset her.

He knows the exact moment his words break through whatever demons she's fighting. Her breathing starts to even out and her gaze focuses on something across the room.

"Because it wouldn't have made it any better." Tim drags a gauze pad carefully across Lucy's forehead. "And making you panic would have made it worse. It still looks worse than it is."

"It looks really bad! You heard the plastic surgeon -" She pushes his hand away, then catches it in her own. tim squeezes her fingers, remembering the look on her face when they'd paged a specialist. An abundance of caution, the ER attending had called it, given how close the gash had landed to her eye. "It's probably going to scar."

@sgtbradfords: Why don't we have Tim 'Unicorn Sticker' Bradford giffed?

OK, I know this took ages, but in my defense it got wildly out of hand and now it's a whole thing. Happy belated, babes!

--

“Don’t think so hard over there, Ange. You’re gonna set off the smoke alarm.” Will wipes his hands on a dish towel and hangs it back over the stove handle while Angie rolls her eyes.

“Shut up, Will.” She’s sitting on the couch, head propped up on one hand and feet tucked beside her. There’s no bite behind her words, even the playful sarcasm he's long come to expect.

That’s more telling than anything else, if Will is honest. If Angie’s stopped snarking at him, there’s something serious going on.

“Hey.” Kitchen cleaned up, he joins Angie in the living room. He takes the middle seat, not close enough to crowd her, but close enough that he can reach forward and brush a section of hair back from her shoulder. “What happened today?”

Angie shakes her head. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Must feel like it is though, if it’s got you pouting on my sofa like this.”

“I’m not pouting.”

“Alright,” he gives in, even though they both know she is. “You want to tell me what you’re not-pouting about?”

“It’s nothing. I just said something stupid today. Pissed Ormewood off.”

“Doesn’t seem like he makes that much of a challenge.”

“Yeah, well.” Angie laughs, sharp and bitter, then sighs. “I just … I don’t know. The whole ‘partner’ thing is new for me. Letting people in, you know? Finally thought we might have been getting somewhere with that, and I went and screwed it up.”

"It doesn't need to be." Lucy rolls her eyes and climbs into the passenger seat of Tim's truck. "No one is arguing with you."

"Good. They wouldn't have a leg to stand on."

"Why do they always chase after me?" Will thinks Angie is trying to bite into the words, but she just sounds weary.

He pulls his chair around to her side of the desk and knocks their knees together.