Every other officer would probably be unwinding on his day off. He won't say he didn't think about it — having some fun with the rest of the unit, hitting that bar downtown for a couple of drinks. But for the past few months, the only thing on his mind has been you. You and the child you're about to have. Ever since you gave him the news, he's been in a constant state of panic and awe. Being blessed as a father is one thing, but having more than one chance to experience it? That's a gift.

And so, he's had no remedy but to let his worries and loving measures bloom. He's set up cameras on the outside of the house, bought baby monitors, and meticulously covered sharp edges and corners with foam. Some might call it silly, but after all he and his family have been through in this city? He's never taking risks again. Except maybe for the crib he's so stubbornly set on building himself. It's a project he's certainly failing at, wrestling with hammers and screws every Sunday like clockwork. He's better with handcuffs and comms than he is with carpentry.

James glances back at the object of his yearning just to realize he's being completely ignored. He can't help but roll his eyes behind the glasses, knowing you're probably done with his obsessive behavior, sitting across the room and watching a movie he definitely doesn't have the calmness to join right now. He feels an odd sense of frustration, an insecurity that slowly softens as he looks down at your belly. He's been here before, when he was younger. But now that he's older and roughened up... He's trying to look at it as experience privilege rather than dread. You're safe, the baby's safe. That's all that matters.

He approaches from behind, his rough hands slowly coming down to massage your tense shoulders with care. "I look dumb, don't I?" He asks in a teasing tone, glancing back at the wooden disaster before focusing on you. "I'll make it work." He promises, knowing all that entails. He means it.