#theadorelocksly

🐬🌎❄️

🥏🛝🛼

🚎💎🚿

💙💙💙

For you my dear 🥰

I do not persevere. Only affection 💖

which do you prefer, cotton candy or funnel cake?👀

Thanks for the Ask @theadorelocksly, apologies for slow reply, working my way through my ask box! 😬😁

Lucy was frustrated to no end. She had no idea where Wyatt and Rufus were and she had no idea how she managed to be stuck with Flynn and twin boys. Not her typical “we must stop Flynn at all costs” trip back in time.

Garcia Flynn looked somewhat content, however. He was swaying as the baby in his arms was slowly drifting to sleep. It would’ve been sweet if he weren’t (supposedly) a terrorist. Lucy was struggling with her twin. He wouldn’t stay still, and while he wasn’t crying, he was awfully fussy.

“Lay him down,” She turned to Flynn as he spoke softy. “I’m sure he’s just as tired.”

“What?”

“Like this.” He gestured to the boy who was laying on his arm. “And sway.”

With a huff, Lucy took his advice. The baby fought it at first but slowly started to drift. She brought her finger to his nose and stroked it a few times, coaxing him to keep his eyes closed. It worked!

She smiled, almost proudly. Flynn smiled at her when she looked up at him. Lucy cleared her throat and looked away.

“So, how did you get stuck with them, anyway?” He asked her.

She supposes she should thank him, really. She probably would’ve thrown them out a window if he had not showed up. (Not really. But she was close.)

“I-I don’t even know,” Lucy sighed. “There was a woman, panicking, said she needed help. Handed the boys to me and ran off with Rufus.”

A pause. “Where’s Wyatt?”

“God, I don’t know.” Lucy was getting tired of him running off without explaining his plans. “To find you, maybe?”

“I’m right here.”

Lucy looked up at him again, no shit Sherlock. “You’re a little shi-”

“Ah, ah,” he looked almost hurt. Then smirked. “Not in front of the children.”

It took everything in her to not rip him a new one, children or not.

He walked over to the couch. “At least you’re here, at a hotel, instead of in an alley or something.”

With so much care and concentration in his face, he slowly places the sleeping child on the couch and carefully slides his arm from under him. Pausing when the child stirs. When Flynn gets free he takes a pillow and places it next the baby, to keep him from falling off.

Lucy’s staring. She looks down at the child in her own arms and contemplates trying the same maneuver. She decides she’d rather not risk it and keeps swaying. Flynn sits and runs his hand down his face. Lucy feels a pang in her chest. His daughter. He was—is—a father. Of course he knows what he’s doing. Lucy realizes she’s never asked about her. What was her name? Iris!

Lucy moves around the couch to sit in the armchair across from him, careful to not wake the baby. He doesn’t stir.

She’s not sure what to say or how to approach. She can only get out, “I’m sorry.”

He looks up at her through his lashes. “Huh?”

“Your daughter. Wife. For everything.”

He licks his lips. He doesn’t say anything, just watches her.

“Iris, right?” She watches as his breath catches. She wonders if she’s stepped too far. But keeps going, “I’ve never seen a picture but I’m sure she was beautiful.”

(She wasn’t going to tell him that she thought he was pretty and that’s why she’s sure. She didn’t even want to tell herself that.)

He nods and is silent for a moment. Then, just above a whisper, “Would you like to?”

Lucy’s confused, “What?”

“See a picture?”

“Oh! Um, yes. Of course.”

The vulnerability in the exchange, the question, the fact that he’s actually going to show her, takes her completely off guard and has her questioning everything in one second. She shakes her head to clear her thoughts.

He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a leather wallet. He pulls out a very worn picture of two girls. Well, a girl and a woman. “She was three. In this.”

He smiles fondly at it before turning it over so Lucy could see. She takes it from him and smiles too. She was right. “Wow. She’s beautiful. They both are.”

He nods and takes it back from her, looking at it one more time before placing it back. “I went back to the house a few days after… I was sure they would still be there, or it would be burned down or something. But it was just… vacant.” A beat. He sniffs. “Anyway.”

Lucy really didn’t know what to say now. There wasn’t much she could say, anyway. She found herself wishing there was something she could say, if it could make him feel better.

Just as she opened her mouth—

“You—you son of—”

“Wyatt, Wyatt! Stop!”

Wyatt burst in, guns blazing. Flynn had placed himself in front of Lucy, as if protecting her from Wyatt. (He didn’t realize he was doing it.)

“It’s fine!”

Once Wyatt lowers his gun, Flynn turns to Lucy and tips his head. “I’m gonna, yeah. Go.”

Lucy watches him leave, almost sad to see him go so soon. She looks down at the child. He was still asleep, to her surprise.

“Where’s Rufus?”

“Uh, he went with their mother. She needed help with something. Should be back any minute.”

“Did Flynn give you trouble? I still have time to catch up t-“

The spherical chocolate one!