Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Oh, look at the stars! Ursa Major... so beautiful!"

Lucy paused just inside the doorway, watching her very large, very tipsy husband sway like a drunk scarecrow as he pointed dramatically at the ceiling.

"We're inside," she deadpanned, locking the door behind them. "Those are just ceiling lights."

Tim turned, swaying slightly, eyes wide with wonder. "You can't tell me those aren't stars, Lucy. Look how they twinkle. The cosmos is vast."

She snorted. "The cosmos is a Home Depot chandelier. Come on, space cadet. Couch."

They made it five steps before he gasped like she'd just announced she was moving to another country.

"Please don't leave me!"

Lucy blinked. "I’m just going to the toilet."

"Can I come with you?" he whispered like it was a secret mission.

"Absolutely not. Sit. Stay. Good boy."

He looked heartbroken. "You’re abandoning me in my time of need. How do you sleep at night?"

"On the left side of the bed. Next to a giant baby, apparently."

When she returned, he was sprawled across the couch like he’d just lost a duel with gravity. One arm dangled dramatically off the edge, twitching slightly.

"My arm is floppy," he informed her. "I’m like a puppet. A sexy puppet."

Lucy laughed. "A dramatic, heavy, slightly drooly puppet."

He stared up at her, blinking like he was trying to remember how she got so pretty. "You’re so good at this. My wife, the boot whisperer."

"Boot master, drunk disaster—same thing."

She yanked off his shoes with minimal cooperation, then hoisted him upright with the strength of a woman who regularly chased criminals for a living.

Halfway down the hall, Tim paused like he’d had an epiphany. He turned to her, deadly serious.

"Can you be my girlfriend?"

Lucy raised an eyebrow. "I already am. Actually, I’m your wife. Remember the tux? The cake? The vows where you cried?"

His eyes widened. "Oh. Lucky me!"

"Incredibly. Come on, Casanova."

Getting him changed was like trying to wrestle a sleepy toddler into pajamas, except the toddler was a 6'4" former Marine. He kept trying to help by sticking his head through armholes and laughing when he missed.

When she finally got him into sweats, he flopped backward onto the bed with a sigh of accomplishment.

"Let’s go play baseball," he slurred to the ceiling.

Lucy crossed her arms. "Your shoulder is dislocated."

He gasped. "It is?!"

"Not *currently*. But still—no baseball."

He nodded gravely. "Wise."

Lucy collapsed beside him, breathless with amusement. Tim turned to look at her like she was the only thing in the galaxy worth staring at.

"You look almost as pretty as this moon."

She followed his gaze. "That’s a street lamp."

"And you’re almost pretty."

Lucy gasped. "*Almost*?"

He reached out to poke her cheek. "Almost too pretty. Like... dangerous-pretty. Should come with a warning sign."

"I do. You ignored it."

Tim nodded sagely. "Reckless of me. No regrets."

A long pause passed. Lucy thought maybe he'd finally passed out. But then:

"Have you ever thought about penguins?"

She blinked. "I mean... not recently."

"We should. Think more about penguins. As a couple. Joint custody of penguin thoughts."

She laughed so hard she snorted. "I’ll pencil that into the calendar then."

Tim’s expression went misty, like he was genuinely touched. "You have a stupid face."

Lucy rolled onto her side to glare at him. "Excuse me?"

"It’s my favorite one to stare at."

She sighed. "I am *so* filming this next time."

"I will definitely remember this tomorrow," he mumbled. "How could I ever forget?"

The next morning:

Tim groaned, peeling open one bloodshot eye and immediately regretting it. The sun was far too cheerful for the hangover waging war in his skull.

Lucy sat in the corner, one leg curled under her, sipping coffee and scrolling through her phone. She looked up and grinned.

"Good morning, my little constellation."

He winced. "Oh God. What did I say?"

She stood and carried two Tylenol and a glass of water over to him, placing them on the nightstand with exaggerated care.

"Where to begin? You flirted with the ceiling. Accused me of abandoning you on a bathroom break. Called my face stupid—but in a *nice* way."

"Did I... mention penguins?"

She nodded solemnly. "We now have a 3pm brainstorming session about penguin-related couple activities."

He groaned and fell back against the pillows. "Why do you let me drink?"

"Because it’s funny."

He looked up at her with a squint. "Did I at least call you pretty?"

"You compared me to the moon. Then called me *almost* pretty."

He blinked. "I insulted you *and* compared you to space rocks?"

"Yup. But also said I’m your favorite face to stare at, so you sort of recovered."

Tim closed his eyes again. "I am never drinking again."

Lucy patted his chest. "Until next time."

He groaned. "Can I reschedule the penguin meeting?"

"Nope. Bring snacks."

Despite the pounding in his head, Tim chuckled and pulled her into the bed with him. She squeaked as he buried his face in her neck.

"You’re ridiculous," she murmured.

"You married me."

"Which makes me *more* ridiculous."

He smiled against her skin. "Still lucky, though."

She grinned. "Damn right you are. Now nap. You’ve got penguins at three."