Nobody likes getting woken up by the sound of a blaring alarm.

"Shit."

It took Ollie about half a minute before her mind registered that it was her alarm that was ringing. She got off the bed in a swift flip, her feet meeting the floor. Or, to be more precise, the pile of clothes on the floor. She tossed the pile around in search of her phone. Turning off her alarm, she reached to switch on her bedroom lights, nearly tripping over her steps in the process.

"Can you still walk?" another voice groaned at the now-brightly-lit room.

It took Ollie another two seconds to register the figure in her bed, and all that happened the night before. "Yes," she deadpanned, shuffling over to the other side of her room, "I tripped over your sock."

The man — Tim — rolled and buried his head further into the pillow. "What time is it?" he asked groggily, his raspy voice muffled.

"Six," Ollie answered, "I, uh, have work."

He lifted his head from the pillow lazily, watching as she marched around the room, from left to right, right to left again, shoving belongings into a bag. She already had on an old college tee that was a few sizes too big. She picked up the pair of dark jeans she had helped yank off last night and tossed it just by his leg. "Is that you kicking me out, or can I sleep in for a bit more?"

She did not stop in her tracks when she checked her phone once more. "Sure. But I gotta be out in thirty," she looked back at him, "And, uh, I can't exactly have, well, a stranger alone in my home, you know."

"Mm," his head dropped onto the pillow once again. In the attempt to go back to sleep, he was greeted with more shuffling sounds, drawers opening and closing, clinking and clanging. "It's six?" he eventually mumbled.

"Six-ten, now," she replied. He nodded, then slowly sat up on the bed, the lack of sleep evident in his face. He pulled on his pants that she had thrown over earlier and got up, setting the messy bed back. She watched him curiously while putting her hair up. "What happened to sleeping in?"

"I have work, too," he glimpsed up at her, hiding the fact that he could feel her rushed wake and felt like he was overstaying her welcome. He pocketed his phone on the nightstand, clasping his watch around his wrist as he strode over to her. "The one on the right. Subtle, but nice."

"Are you just choosing it because you like it?" she glanced at him briefly as she set one of the two pairs of earrings down, putting on the other that he suggested.

"Maybe," he confessed with a chuckle, watching her interestedly. She no longer had her eyes glued onto him, unlike the night before in the bar. Did she look tense or was she just shy without the alcohol in her system?

"Need something, handsome?" she called out on his unwavering stare.

"Uh, yeah," he cleared his throat, scanning the room once more, "Have you seen my shirt?"

"Somewhere between the front door and the bedroom door...?"

He nodded in acknowledgement, wanting to go look for his clothing but his legs hung back. He knew for sure that she fascinated him, more than he would admit.

"Can I get your number?" The words tumbled out his throat before he realised.

She turned to him abruptly, a blend of surprise and panic struck in her face. Hell's sake, Ollie. This was not supposed to happen.

Truth be told, she had set her mind for this to be a one-night thing. She really should not fall deeper into the rabbit hole with Mr Eye-Candy. Part of her knew better than to get herself involved with yet another guy knowing she needed her full focus elsewhere...

He waited, somewhat flustered, watching as though the gears in her head needed a moment to reach an inevitable decision. He was sure that he was about to face rejection when the fifth second ticked past.

"I'll admit, asking for my number without a shirt on is a smart move," she finally uttered.

He raised a brow at her anticipatingly. "Well, you threw it somewhere, so..."

"Listen, Tim, um, I'm not looking for a relationship at the moment," she managed out apologetically, "But... I won't say no to another drink...?"

He blinked, staring at her, and then nodded. "That works for me."

"Okay, then." She took a step forward with a smile now, gently pushing him aside with a finger on his chest. "Meet me at the bar tonight," she said, stalking past him to the kitchen, "same seats."

"Yeah. I'll be there." The grin surfacing his look was hard to bite down. "Mind if I use your shower?"

"Have at it," she pointed at another door before stopping him, "Hey, wait. You want breakfast?"

He contemplated for half a second. "As in... you?"

"A-As in— bread, eggs— food?" she stammered, caught completely off guard by his words.

A smirk crept up his face as his eyes skimmed her from top to bottom. "What about you skip that and join me in the shower?"

She blinked — twice — then strode back into the room. "Yeah, deal."

➤➤➤

Ollie quickened her pace when she saw a man in a red jacket with a familiar face standing still in front of Mid-Wilshire Station, gaping upwards at the tall building. "Cold feet?"

"Jesus, Ollie," Jackson jumped at her abrupt presence, clutching his chest. She chuckled as he rolled his eyes. "Cold feet? Me? Nah."

Ollie snorted, joining him in taking in the sight of the station. Even though she had passed by this particular station countless times before for many years, standing right here as someone about to walk into the building for work was a totally different feeling. It was exhilarating. Enchanting, even.

The morning breeze raised goosebumps on her arms. This was where she would spend the next twelve months working her ass off. The past six months in the Academy were tough, to say the very least, and the upcoming probationary period is going to be even more demanding — and she was ready to give it her all.

"Can you believe we're finally here?" Jackson asked in awe, lowering his gaze back to his friend. Ollie shook her head, rather astoundingly. "We made it."

"Well, that's early to say," Ollie turned to him, "We'll 'made it' when we get it through without washing out."

Jackson grumbled at her words. "Always the pessimist."

"Realist," she corrected with a smile. They watched as more day shift police started heading into the station, some old some young, all with experience etched on their faces. It was a sight that lit the fire in Ollie's heart. She took a few steps forward before whirling back to Jackson. "I bet I'll be the first to clock in!" she teased.

Jackson, sensing her challenge, immediately broke into a sprint. Ollie matched his pace, racing into the station, but she slowed down right before they stepped foot into the building. Jackson, on the other hand, ran in with a pant, receiving annoyed stares from the officers in the lobby area.

Ollie then strolled in with a casual look on her face, forcing down her laugh at the man she had just so easily tricked.

"Oh, I hate you," Jackson grunted.

"No, you don't," Ollie grinned back smugly. She walked up to the front desk and greeted the officer on duty, asking for directions to the female locker room while Jackson snuck up next to her to ask the whereabouts of the males'. They both thanked the officer before heading off.

Ollie walked with her bag slung over her shoulder. With each step, she was growing increasingly nervous, and confident at the same time. It was an odd feeling. She stepped into the locker room, searching for Lucy, who had yet to arrive. Sighing, she found her assigned locker and dumped her bag in it, pulling out her uniform to change into. This definitely feels like the first day of high school, she cursed to herself.

Ollie was putting her hair in a bun when the friend she had been looking for trudged towards her. "Hey, guess what?" Lucy greeted, and before Ollie could respond, the former burst out, "I already made my first arrest!"

Ollie gaped at her with her jaw dropped. "What— How?"

"A guy tried to steal my car on my way here," Lucy explained as she took the locker next to Ollie's and began decorating it with printed pictures, "Flashed me his gun, I tackled him, had the whole 'You're under arrest' speech with him, and boom—arrested! He's in processing now."

Ollie narrowed her eyes as the other woman flared some dance moves. "But how did he try to steal your car while you're in it?" she questioned, and Lucy's satisfied smirk was rubbed off abruptly. "Oh, it broke down again, didn't it," the former rolled her eyes with a sigh, "Lucy, seriously, that car has got to go."

The owner of said car gasped. "Don't talk about my baby like that!"

"Boots! Roll call in five!" The shout coming from a few lockers down rang in their ears.

"Yes, ma'am!"

Ollie finished tying her bun while Lucy hurriedly got ready herself. "Soooo, anything happened last night?" she asked just as Ollie shut her locker door; the latter was not going to speak but the smile creeping up her face betrayed her thoughts. Lucy perked up, letting out a long 'Ooo'. "Come on, tell me the details," she grabbed Ollie's arm as they made their way out of the locker room, "Is he hot? Was it good? How many rounds?"

The last part was whispered, but it still sent Ollie's mind into a temporary frenzy mode as she recalled the night before— and that morning. "It— Uh— I-I—" she stammered, warmth rising in her cheeks, "It was really good."

Lucy beamed like a proud mom, grinning broadly at her friend. "Are you seeing him again?" she nudged.

Ollie half-nodded, half-shrugged, "Tonight, probably."

➤

In the men's locker room, Tim had just thrown a scare tactic at Jackson but failed to get the response he wanted. Along with a few other cops, they exited the locker room and headed down for roll call. More officers greeted him along the way, and he returned their gesture, although not the most sincere.

It was yet another day to get through. And today was going to be a new rough start for the rookies; he was looking forward to making their lives a living hell.

He walked behind two long-sleeved women, one slightly shorter than the other, who were chatting while hurrying towards the briefing room to join the rest. He narrowed his eyes at the shorter one, whose voice sounded a wee bit too—

Tim's eyes widened in shock. What the fuck?

The woman, sensing a stare, snapped her head backwards in his direction and instantly mirrored his expression.

"What the fuck?"

━━━━━

McDreamy trope? why not 👀