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Summary
Tim prided himself on restraint, but there was no denying that riding beside his hot little Boot for six months had tested him. Every day she came in with her pretty mouth and thick thighs, and he was expected to keep his hands to himself. He did, of course, he always did… but the temptation was constant, a through line that underpinned all of their interactions. He wasn’t ignorant to the way she looked at him, either, more than once catching her eyes on his arms, his pecs, and a few times, his crotch. The want was mutual, obvious, and unspoken, and they’d been caught in heated gazes that qualified as eye-fucks enough times that Lopez had started teasing him for it. It was harmless, he maintained; they’d never touched each other, and they never would for as long as he trained her. “Heated gazes” or not, Tim Bradford always toed the line.
Then they got the missile alert.
(what a missing scene in an alternate universe might look like concerning how Tim and Lucy passed their last minutes during 2x6 "Freefall")