For the drabbles, Chenford please. And maybe 30 and/or 47.
#47 can be found here! I like it too much to try and capture greatness again! Also? 'Ladybug' in Spanish? Mariquita! And this covers a headcanon request from a while ago. the OG one was ixnayed due to my lackluster feelings toward it ... In addition, because i’ve just realized it’s her birthday, this is dedicated to the ever-terrific @semperlitluv - whom i dragged into these two with me!
The music spilling out of Lucy’s phone might filter the sound from Tim’s impromptu interrogation, but? When she adds his tall, frozen frame filling the doorway - not even relaxing enough to realize his booted foot has stopped mid-step - to her lip-read of his final, frazzled word, and the fact that his normal tan has paled considerably? She turns immediately, following his stare to figure out why he’s basically as beside himself as he’ll ever be.
Michaela’s waving wildly, her entire palm a stunning shade of crimson.
Which grants Lucy the ability to trace the exact path Tim’s theory takes in this four-second span. “It’s paint, it’s paint!” she rushes, eighty-sixing the song in a hurry. “C’mere, baby.” Reaching for deceptively-decorated fingers, she scrubs her toddler’s hand clean with a damp paper towel. “You think we gave Daddy a heart attack, Mick? Looks like a close call to me!” She mouths You okay? at him over their daughter’s head.
After a similarly silent Yeah, he thumps his chest a little, like he’s waiting for a revival, earning a delighted giggle from the chair next to which he comes to stand. Leaning his elbows on the newspaper-topped island, he gives his chin a place to rest. “What’re we up to, ladybug?”
Mickey only points excitedly at him a few times in a row without speaking, leaving her father very confused.
“Wanna show him?” Lucy encourages.
Mickey practically vaults forward at the suggestion, Tim loosely gripping the fabric at the back of her dress to guarantee she won’t tumble while pursuing her treasure: a single egg carton slot, inverted, splattered with a familiar dual color scheme, and dusted with about a pound of glitter. “It’s me!” she proclaims proudly.
“The most beautiful bugs ever!” Tim pats her craft on the spot with the least sparkle before bending to hug his girl fiercely. “Both of you!”
Angela calls Tim that night, yelling down the line at him: “You let Lucy and Mickey convince you to debut on TikTok? I should’ve received advance notice! I didn’t emotionally prepare!”
“I’m in three seconds,” he defends, laughing. “They sing, not me. I’m a glorified prop master at best.”
“You were complicit, TB, it’s documented. Deal.”
Pulling up Lucy’s account - fromboottobradford - Tim knows what he’ll find: he’d signed off on the director’s cut. His camera operator hat had carried more weight than his pop-up intro.
On-screen, he narrates ‘… the love-bug crawls right back up and bites me!’ touching Mari to his face and - secretly - praying that the dazzling darling had dried. Then Mickey and Lucy steal the spotlight, running through a whole sequence set to: “She can’t help it, the girl can’t help it. You got me trippin’ stumblin’ flippin’ fumblin’…”
i enjoy this little snippet immensely, so it’s also been added to with hope in your heart (you’ll never walk alone) as Part xii. You can read/leave some love here, if you feel so inspired!
