Chenford: One Shot to the Heart

a rose by another name might smell as sweet...but you don't call a rose "boot"

"Tim, we need to talk," she said suddenly. 

"If I know anything, you're either breaking up with me or you are thinking of which wall I should tear down next so you can have a true-blue open concept. To both of which, I'll just ask one thing: why?"

She rolled her eyes at him from across the counter. "You're dramatic sometimes, did ya know that?"

"I think of it as being prepared for any outcome."

"Whatever. But neither of those. Although...there is a wall I think you should take down. And if you don't do it, then I'll break up with you."

"You're a cold-hearted being, Boot."

"Okay, THAT is exactly what we need to talk about."

"What is?"

"Tim. You calling me boot. Still. You might think of it as funny or, dare I say, a term of endearment. But all it does for me is remind me of a kind of hell."

"Hey, your rookie training had to be tough and-"

"Tim! It's not about that at all. What I'm saying is, you still calling me that makes me feel like I'm still at square one. To be honest, being referred to as a piece of footwear is not by any means romantic either. 

He pondered this over the plate of pancakes she had served him mere minutes ago.

This domestic scene was no longer unfamiliar. Tim had finally, as Angela put it delicately, "grown a pair," and made a move. Said "move" was picking a fight with Lucy over something insignificant as they were walking through the empty garage after shift and, at some point, backing her up against his truck and kissing her senseless. Then asking if she wanted tacos. To which she replied loosely, "only if we can have margaritas too." 

They'd been together four months now, braving the tempest that was the office environment, resultant of their official relationship.

He'd asked her to move in after three months since she practically lived there anyway. 

It was now Saturday morning, currently their shared day off. Lucy made breakfast, and Tim the coffee. She now sat on a bar stool in her flannel PJ set while he stood across from her, a plate of pancakes in hand. 

She often got a little too excited from all the HGTV she watched and would ask him ever so often to knock down a wall or repaint something. 

Today was obviously a different conversation. 

"I think I get it," he said.

"You do?"

"Even though I don't see it as derogatory, it's how I referred to you as a subordinate. Now that we're together, and that you've brought it up, I can see how calling you that, even though we are equal in this relationship, could make you feel like our relationship is based on a hierarchy. In the workplace, it is to be expected. But certainly not in any intimate relationship."

She went full-on fish. Eyes wide, mouth gaping, gills flapping...wait, what?

"Uh, um, well that was one of the most articulate and analytical things I have ever heard come out of your mouth."

He smirked suggestively. "Really? Not even when I'm explaining how gorgeous you are?"

"Tim," she mumbled, blushing furiously. 

"But seriously, I'm more than muscle and good looks."

"Trust me, Tim, I know. But, thank you."

She took another bite of pancakes. He sipped on his coffee. 

"So if I can't call you the "b" word, what can I call you?"

"WHAT?"

"If I can't call you-"

"No, I heard you the first time. Tim, just cause I don't want you calling me boot doesn't mean it's taboo. You can say it, just don't call me it."

"Um...okay?"

"TIM. What do you think of when I say, 'the b-word?"

"Boot."

"The second thing you think of?"

"Bi-" he stopped dead, staring at her. "Oops."

She chuckled dryly, "Yeah, oops."

"Okay, so, um, if I can't call you "boot," what can I call you?"

"Hmmm...well, nothing too long, nothing embarrassing, and nothing sappy. Sentiment is fine as long as it's not too generic."

"I'm guessing gopher is off the table?"

"That one is off for the same reasons we gave "Boot" the boot."

"Good one."

"I try."

He continued thinking while she downed a gulp of her coffee...which was still very hot. 

"OW! That's hot. It was like being shot in the mouth."

Then it clicked. He included his idea for a nickname as he told her to be careful.

She glared at him after he said it. "I don't think my pain is the best sentiment to play off of."

"I'm not thinking about right now. I'm thinking about 4 years ago, your first day during roll call. Remember?"

Lucy Chen, hotshot who made her first arrest before clocking in for work. 

Officer Bradford, you get our hotshot. 

She smiled. "You probably didn't think that "getting me" as a rookie would mean any of this."

"I certainly didn't."

"I love it."

He leant across the counter, kissing her syrup-smudged lips. "And I love you, Hotshot."

A/N: hopefully this will tide y'all over until Moment 21. Coming next, I promise!