Work Text:
The first time Tim walks her to her car, it barely registers – it’s somehow so subtle that she almost doesn’t notice it’s happened until she’s sitting in the driver’s seat, buckling her seatbelt.
It’s not that people haven’t been taking turns walking her out at the end of shift, after everything – they have, and she’s both grateful they’re looking out for her and annoyed that they feel they need to. The grateful part is outweighing the annoyed part for now, so she’s moved on to accepting things as they are.
The whole thing is that Tim walking her out to her car is not normal – it’s not even something that’s happened before, which is why she’s surprised she doesn’t notice it until it’s over. He’s waiting outside the locker rooms when she walks out, digging around for her headphones in the deep outer pocket of her bag. “Boot,” he says in his typical curt Tim tone, giving her one firm nod.
Lucy flinches a little in surprise, but gives him a tight lipped smile as she keeps digging her hand around in her bag. “Night, Tim,” she manages, and continues walking, her brow furrowed.
She feels a tug on the strap of her bag a moment later and whirls around, a little panic rising in her throat until she sees Tim, holding the bag from the bottom. “Go ahead,” he says, his voice low, “you’ll probably find whatever it is faster if you stop moving.”
Lucy swallows, nodding and turning to face him. “Thanks,” she laughs softly as he holds the bag steady and she’s able to dig through the pocket effectively, grabbing her headphones. When she holds them up, he scowls — but there’s no bite, it almost feels like a smile.
Tim nods, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he lets go of the bag and nods his chin towards the doors to the parking garage, which she takes as an invitation to walk. They make their way through the door in silence, Tim holding it open for her and letting her walk through, shuffling behind her with his hands fiddling with his backpack straps. She nearly forgets Tim’s walking behind her until she hears a low, “Doing anything with West, tonight?”
She looks over her shoulder at him, raising her brow and letting out a surprised laugh. “No, he,” she slows her pace a bit so he can catch up to her, falling into step with him before she speaks again, “he has a date, actually.”
Tim nods over at her, his eyes straight ahead. “So you’re on your own?” Lucy nods. She’s never minded being by herself, and she doesn’t now, but it’s taken on a whole new meaning after everything with Caleb. She’s been considering adopting some kind of pet, for the times when Jackson’s out of the house and she can hear every creak and hum of their apartment with crystal clarity. “Well,” he says, as they turn the corner and her gaze settles on her car, an idle sense of calm radiating in her chest at the sight of it, “Rachel’s making me watch that Masked Singer bullshit you guys like. I’m sure if you wanted to come and watch with us, she wouldn’t mind. Probably be nice for her to have someone know who she’s talking about when she guesses who’s in those costumes.”
Lucy squints up at him, raising a brow. “Are you inviting me over, Bradford?” Tim shrugs. “That’s suspicious.”
Tim rolls his eyes. “You shouldn’t have to be alone, if you don’t want to.”
Lucy softens a bit. “No,” she says, her voice gentle, “no, I appreciate it. I think it’ll be nice to be on my own for a change, though. You know,” she shrugs, “do some meditation, light a candle, take a bath...some me time.” She laughs at the contortion of Tim’s face as she leans against the trunk of her car, his pursed lips, his furrowed brow. “Not your definition of ‘me time’, Tim?”
“Not exactly,” he says, his voice low. “Swap all that out for a beer, a taco, and a Dodgers game, though, and I’m in.”
Lucy shakes her head, a soft smile on her lips. “Very Tim Bradford,” she laughs, looking around. “Where’d you park?”
Tim hooks a thumb over his shoulder, leaning back a bit. “I’m up by the doors.” Lucy nods, squinting at him in confusion as he continues, taking a step back. “Have a good night, Officer Chen.”
“Yeah,” she says, her voice caught in her throat as he retreats, “have a good night.”
–
Lucy is quiet on the ride back to the station.
She’s quiet as they speak to Sergeant Grey and a rep from IA about Officer Stanton, as they review the footage once, twice, three times, as they fill out their paperwork, and as Tim stoops down next to her desk chair and puts his hand on the arm, holding the thing steady. He levels her with a look and she turns to face him, sighing out a breath as he asks, “Want to go see him?”
Lucy nods, biting down on the inside of her cheek so she doesn’t cry. She knows that injury is a part of their job – that it’s to be expected, even, but seeing Jackson bloodied and beaten, groaning in pain, and being loaded onto a stretcher and into the back of an ambulance hadn’t been high on her list of priorities. It hadn’t been on her list at all, as a matter of fact. Tim hasn’t stopped watching her since they sat down at their desks, even though he’s been pretending he’s not looking at her, averting his eyes when she catches him. She doesn’t like that he looks nervous, mostly because she knows the nerves are about her when they shouldn’t be – not when Jackson’s in the state he’s in.
“I don’t have a car,” Tim’s already walking back to his desk when she speaks up, remembering. “Jackson drove me this morning, and I don’t,” she swallows, looking up at Tim, willing her eyes to stay dry. “I don’t know where his keys are, or anything.”
“I’ll drive.” It’s quick and to the point, a very Tim answer, but it makes her breathe out a sigh of relief. “What?”
Lucy shakes her head, tossing him a small smile as she clicks around to log out of her computer. “Nothing,” she says, her voice soft. “Thanks, Tim.”
He’s back to regularly scheduled programming with a gruff, “Go change and meet me by the locker rooms in fifteen, or I’m leaving without you,” thrown over his shoulder as he heads towards the back.
Eighteen minutes later, Lucy walks out of the locker rooms and smiles softly over at Tim, who’s leaning against the wall and scowling at her without most of the usual venom. “You’re late,” he mumbles as he pushes off the wall, and Lucy rolls her eyes as she picks up the pace to catch up with him.
“I have a lot of hair,” Lucy mutters, rolling her eyes up at Tim as she hikes her bag a bit further over her shoulder, shaking said hair out behind her so it doesn’t get stuck beneath the thick strap. “It takes a minute to get it out of that bun.”
“Simple solution,” Tim says, his voice low as he holds the door to the parking garage open for Lucy, smirking as she looks over her shoulder at him to continue. “Cut it off.”
Lucy rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “Bite your tongue, Bradford.” She crosses her arms over her chest as they walk, keeping an eye out for Tim’s truck and straying towards it when she finds it. She hops into the cab and settles her bag at her feet, ignoring the fact that Tim’s clearing his throat impatiently as she’s buckling her seatbelt. “Seriously, Tim,” she frowns over at him, “can you not, today? I get it, I’m slow.”
He sighs, waiting until her seatbelt is buckled to turn towards her. “You need to relax if we’re going to go in there and see West...he doesn’t need to see you like this.”
She frowns at him, furrowing her brow. “See me like what? I’m perfectly relaxed,” she says, her voice low, her words running together. “I’m fine.”
Tim rolls his eyes at her, shaking his head. “You’re not, but you better be by the time we get to that hospital.”
Lucy squints, annoyed. “I don’t get why you even want to go see him, Tim, it’s not like you and Jackson are friends.” It’s a low blow and she knows it – Tim’s been worried about Jackson right alongside her this whole time, and she can tell by the way he tenses up that the insinuation he hasn’t gets to him a little.
“You’re his friend,” he says, after a long moment. He turns his head, facing forward and keeping his voice even as he speaks. “You’re his friend, and he came to me for help about this...the least I can do now is make sure you get there and see that he’s alright.”
Lucy sucks in a breath, nodding and settling herself in the passenger seat, fiddling with the sleeve of her cardigan. Tim starts the truck and messes with the air conditioning for a long moment. “That’s nice,” she mumbles, to break the silence. “That’s nice of you, I mean.”
Tim shakes his head, putting the truck into reverse and resting his hand on the seat behind Lucy’s head as he turns to look through the rearview. “It’s not nice, it’s the least I can do.” Lucy nods, ignoring every urge she has to fight him. “You okay now?”
Lucy shrugs, chewing on the inside of her cheek. She looks over at Tim’s hands, steady on the wheel of his truck, and leans her head lightly against the rolled up window. “I think so,” she says, peeking over at him fully and smiling softly when he’s already looking at her. “If not, I will be by the time we get there, okay?”
She sees Tim crack a smile from the corner of her eye as they pull out of the parking garage.
–
Her first week as a P2 doesn’t really go as planned. Not that you can plan these things, not really, but she doesn’t plan to be monitoring a chocolate bar or wrestling with a bride...she plans to be taken a hell of a lot more seriously. She also doesn’t plan for Tim to see her in that bridal shop, for him to distract her, for him to take a video of her doing her job...and with the amount of other things she has going on, that’s what’s sticking in her mind: Tim has that video, it makes her look like an idiot, and she needs him to delete it.
...Which is totally why she stays late on Friday, even if Jackson says otherwise — to catch Tim before he hits the locker rooms so she can go home and spend her weekend decompressing instead of thinking about the blackmail he has on her. She’s been leaning on the wall waiting and reading an article on her phone when she sees Tim walking towards her, still in uniform, his mouth settled in a thin line. She knows that face – it’s not a good one, and her shoulders slump a little as she tries to reformulate her plan to get him to listen to her about the video in a way that will suit his current mood.
“Chen,” he nods, his voice low as he passes her. Lucy gives him a small smile of acknowledgment and chews on her cheek as he walks into the locker room without another word. She drags her hand through her hair, combing her fingers through a knot as she considers her next move. She wants that video deleted, but catching Tim after a bad day may not be the way to get what she wants – then again, appealing to him while he’s tired, when he’s not in the mood to deal with anything, might get him to just do, rather than put up a fight. She swallows, looking back down at her phone. She might as well wait on him and give it a shot. He doesn’t take long – she knows his post work routine, it doesn’t typically take more than twelve minutes – and looks surprised to see her when he walks through the locker room doors. “West’s not in there.”
“I know,” Lucy smiles softly. “I was waiting for you.”
Tim furrows his brow, the lines on his face creasing in thought. “Did I miss something? We have plans I didn’t know about?” He slings his backpack over his shoulders, swallowing. Lucy bites her lip to keep herself from laughing as she watches him wrack his brain for something he could’ve forgotten. The idea of them having plans is laughable, but it also makes her throat tighten in a way she doesn’t totally recognize.
“Really, Tim,” she frowns up at him, keeping her voice deadpan, knowing her eyes are a dead giveaway that she’s trying not to laugh. “You forgot?”
Tim looks shell shocked and stays quiet for a moment. He holds up his hands, feigning innocence, “Of course not, I–,” he starts, then looks down at her, his face settling into a frown. Lucy can’t help but let her smile break through, pushing herself off the wall and laughing up at him. “What is this, another foray into UC prep? You don’t have to just play your tricks on me, you know.” His voice is low and rough, but his mouth betrays him, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
Lucy tries not to bristle at his words, instead glancing up at him with a soft hum. “No,” she shrugs, picking through her words carefully. “I was hoping you could help me out with something.”
Tim squints at her, then nods his head towards the parking garage and starts walking. Lucy rolls her eyes but slings her bag higher on her shoulder and scurries to keep up with him, tucking her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. “A favor, huh?” Tim’s smirk is annoying her already, his face too smug for her liking. She ignores him as he continues, “So you’re waiting around by the locker room to ask me for a favor and you decide to mess with me, instead, is that how it works?” He shakes his head. “No one ever really taught you how to get what you want, did they?”
Lucy rolls her eyes, letting out a groan. “Shut up, Tim,” she laughs, shaking her head. She offers him a soft, “thanks,” as he holds the parking garage doors open for her, walking through and then turning to face him, the doors swinging shut behind them. “You have that video of me,” she says, her voice quiet. “The one from the bridal shop, right?”
Tim nods, a small smile etching onto his features. “A classic already, if you ask me...destined for the Mid-Wilshire P2 Hall of Fame.”
Lucy purses her lips, shaking her head. “I don’t,” she starts, then resets herself, taking a breath. “I’d like you to delete it.” She hears Tim bark out a laugh and shuts her eyes. “Tim,” she sighs, hard. “I’m not joking.”
“It’s a video of you making an arrest, Chen.” He shrugs. “It’s not like you were wearing a chicken suit.”
“I’m covered in feathers and champagne,” her voice rises and she doesn’t know how to stop it. “I look like an idiot.”
“You look like a cop,” Tim shrugs. “I don’t see the problem.”
“You wouldn’t.” Absently, she realizes they’ve walked all the way to her car – which, as usual, is parked well past his. She leans back against the trunk and frowns at him. “I just want it deleted, okay? We don’t need it as evidence, you don’t need it for...T.O. torture methods, or t-shirts, or whatever you were planning on doing with it. So,” she sets her bag down next to her feet, raising her brows and crossing her arms over her chest, “you can just get rid of it.”
Tim frowns at her, shaking his head. “It was your first arrest as a P2,” he swallows, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I thought you might want to have it before I got rid of it.” He clicks around on his phone for a moment and she feels hers buzz in her back pocket. “I thought you did a good job, considering, you know...the champagne and feathers.”
She feels her face soften as his settles into a smile. “You thought I did a good job?” She doesn’t mean to say it and she certainly doesn’t mean for it to sound loaded...but she does, and it does, and Tim’s just staring at her with his brows raised. “Not that it matters. Just,” she shrugs, “just curious.”
Tim swallows, sliding his hands into his pockets and rocking back on his heels a bit. She watches as his eyes move from her face down to his feet, then back. “I mean, I helped,” Tim shoots her a smirk, but it’s soft. “But yeah, you did alright...always room for improvement.”
Lucy rolls her eyes but she feels the smile spreading across her face. “Thanks, Tim.” He rolls his eyes back at her, shaking his head gently. “I still want you to delete that thing, though.”
Tim frowns at her, shaking his head and tucking his phone into his pocket. “Yeah, well,” he shifts his backpack over his shoulder, turning and shooting a grin as he walks away, “can’t always get what we want, can we, Lucy?”
–
She’d stashed her bag in his truck before shift and midway through she rolls her eyes at the photo he texts her of his lunch stacked neatly atop her duffle. There’s a dollop of cheese rolling down the side of his fry boat, threatening to land right in the center of her bag. She sends him a threatening text back, which he simply reacts to with a thumbs up. “Infuriating,” she mutters, holding her phone out to Jackson and frowning.
“Ugh, foreplay,” Jackson wrinkles his brow, pushing the phone back to her and shaking his head. “I don’t need to see all that.”
Lucy rolls her eyes at him, but doesn’t fight it – she knows better, at this point, than to argue with Jackson about her and Tim’s relationship. They’re friends and they both know that – it’s just that everyone else seems to have a difficult time letting that be all they are. It doesn’t exactly help their case that they’ve been lumped together for all of Angela and Wesley’s wedding activities – that Angela’s sent them cake tasting, to a venue walk through, and to take photos of floral arrangements on their days off, citing pregnancy exhaustion and cajoling them into giving sympathy help. They’ve been spending more time together, developing stupid inside jokes about buttercream and hydrangeas, of course they seem like a couple...they’re practically planning a wedding together in their off time.
A wedding that’s finally happening this weekend, after the dust had settled from the first disastrous attempt. She’s driving up with Tim – mostly because Jackson and Isaac don’t have room in their car, Nolan’s not coming up for the whole weekend, and she hadn’t really wanted to drive on her own. Besides, neither of them have dates, Tim’s driving music is surprisingly relaxing, and it’s just easier to take the ride up together.
She’s not sure why she feels the need to defend her choice to take a several hour drive with a friend rather than on her own, but her mind has other plans throughout the afternoon. By the time she’s changed into her comfiest pair of leggings and a tank top, she’s second guessed this ride more times than she can count – she can hear Jackson’s “ugh, foreplay,” ringing in her ears, the florist’s, “the two of you are so sweet,”, and Sergeant Grey’s low chuckle when Tim had muttered something about Lucy’s aversion to walnuts the other day in roll call. They’re all mocking her for something she doesn’t entirely understand, but she can feel it at the base of her throat, in the pit of her stomach.
She’s braiding her hair and leaning up against the wall between the locker rooms when she sees Tim walking out of the men’s with his backpack hiked over one shoulder, a grin on his face. The feeling dissipates and her breathing goes a little more even. She ignores what that could mean, pushing herself off the wall and falling into step with him easily.
“You better not have stained my bag,” she says, tipping her face up and squinting at him. “Seriously, Tim. Cheese fries?”
“I don’t know why you put it in there in the first place,” he shakes his head, holding his hands up in faux-innocence. “You knew I was taking an hour to go drop Kojo off at the kennel, I don’t know why you didn’t think I was going to grab In-N-Out on the way back from the kennel,” he smirks down at her, “you know I always stop there.”
“So you put my stuff on the floor, or in the bed, Tim...instead of dripping your cheese fries on my things deliberately.” She shoves his arm lightly, frowning at him and shaking her head. “There’s wedding stuff in that bag and if it’s ruined, you’re telling Angela.”
“Oh, sure,” Tim chuckles over at her, holding the door to the parking garage open and letting her walk through it, “blame it on the Man of Honor, huh?”
Lucy grins up at him, warmth radiating through her as she turns to face him and leans up, grinning, “Mm hmm,” she laughs, “isn’t that the whole point of being friends with the Man of Honor?”
Tim frowns, squinting down at her and shaking his head. He holds out his hand and curls his fingers, clearly gesturing for something, and Lucy stares for a long moment, pressing her lips together. “Your work bag,” he supplies after a long few moments, a smug grin on his face. Lucy coughs out a laugh, handing him her bag and turning away so he doesn’t see her flush. “What’d you think I was looking for, your hand?”
Lucy sucks in a breath, turning around and leaning against the side of his truck, watching as he places her bag in the bed beneath a mesh cover. “No,” Lucy swallows, keeping her voice light. “We have several hours to kill in the car, if that’s what you’re looking for.”
She hears Tim choking out a laugh as she climbs up into the passenger seat and gets herself settled, thoroughly checking her duffle for cheese remnants before sliding it onto the floorboards.
–
Tim’s leaning against the wall between the locker rooms when she walks out of the women’s with her bag slung over her shoulder. She’s never actually gotten used to seeing him just waiting there for her – and she guesses, with a little bittersweet twinge that tugs in the back of her mind, that she never will.
He’s watching something intently on his phone, his brow furrowed in concentration as she sidles up to him and takes the opportunity to poke him hard in the ribs. Tim jumps, frowning down at her and simultaneously sliding his phone into his pocket. “Way to be congratulatory, Chen,” he mumbles, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, giving him away.
“I’ve said congratulations,” she grins up at him, shaking her head. “That was just for me...a going away gift, if you will.”
“What, all out of flour? Have to settle for the gift of bruising my ribs one last time before I go?” He rolls his eyes in an over-exaggerated Tim sort of way, tugging on the strap of her bag as he starts walking out towards the parking garage. Lucy swallows, following and letting a laugh bubble up out of her throat, trying to ignore the fact that it’s a bit of a nervous one.
It’s not that she’s nervous around Tim – she’s not, that ship had sailed a few weeks (okay, months) into her probationary period – but that today is an ending, of sorts, and she’s been dreading this walk all day long. Tim’s starting as the new Sergeant in Westwood on Monday, so it would be their last walk to the parking garage – which shouldn’t be a big deal, but for some reason or another, it’s making Lucy breathless in a way she can’t quite fathom.
She’s so lost in her thoughts that they’re walking through the door to the parking deck before she realizes it, and his truck is already in view, sitting in its normal spot. She turns to look at him, her brows high on her forehead. “You don’t have to walk me all the way down today,” she says, her voice gentle, her chin jutting out towards the normal spot she parks in, much further down the row of cars. “That’s your real gift.”
“Sounds more like a punishment,” he mumbles, shaking his head and settling his hand on her lower back to usher her forward.
“Tim,” she rolls her eyes, “come on.”
“Sorry,” he shakes his head, and she can hear the T.O. edge to his voice. “I’m getting you all the way to that car, it’s my last duty as a Mid-Wilshire Officer.”
Lucy snorts, rolling her eyes. “Smooth,” she mumbles, shooting him a smirk as she knocks into him lightly, her body pressing to his for just a moment before she settles herself back on her feet.
“Thanks,” he murmurs, leaning his head down so he’s practically speaking against her hair. Lucy ignores the shiver that runs through her. He waits a long moment, so they’re almost to her car when he rumbles, “saw that.”
She swallows, looking up at him with wide eyes, chewing on her lower lip. “Yeah?” Tim nods, and she shrugs. “And what are you going to do about it?”
Tim’s eyes are dark when he looks down at her and she swears something flashes in them before he smiles down at her, shaking his head. “Nothing, now, because,” he looks down at his watch, then grins up at her, “I’m officially off the clock.”
Lucy sucks in a breath, raising her brows and nodding, trying to plaster some approximation of a smile on her face. “Wow,” she breathes, reaching out and setting her hand on Tim’s forearm. “Wow, Tim.”
Tim hums, looking around for a moment and then wrapping an arm around her. He pulls her against him and wraps his other arm around her, and suddenly she’s pressed into his chest, her own arms finding their way around his waist, her palms pressed flat to his back. She feels his head drop, close to the top of hers but not quite pressed against her hair. His voice is still muffled as he mumbles, “I’m going to miss you, you know.”
She nods, because she does know. She still lets the words wash over her for a long moment before she lets out a slow breath. “I’m going to miss you, too, Tim.” She swallows, looking up at him, trying to ignore the fact that her chin is practically pressed into his chest. “Or do I have to call you Sergeant Bradford, now?”
Tim squints down at her, a smile on his lips as he releases her from his grip. She drops her own arms, ignoring the tug in her mind that says to just hold on. “I think Tim is just fine,” he says, his voice low. “You’re coming for drinks with everyone tomorrow night, right?”
Lucy nods, keeping her eyes on him. “Of course, I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Good,” he says, his voice soft. He takes a step back from her and slips his hands in his pockets, while Lucy fiddles with her ring lightly, holding onto it as she looks up at him. “So we’re not saying goodbye, now, then.” Lucy swallows, raising her brow.
“What, you don’t want to say goodbye to me, Bradford?”
Tim shrugs, shaking his head, an absent smile on his lips. He pats his hand on the back of her car and nods at Lucy, then looks over his shoulder. “See you tomorrow night, Lucy.”
Lucy swallows, watching him back away and ignoring the stinging behind her eyes and the thrumming in her chest. “See you tomorrow night, Tim.”
–
Lucy’s been purposefully ignoring her texts all afternoon – not because she’s trying to evade Tim, but more because she’s stupidly excited to see him, and the idea of talking to him about it (or about anything) is just going to make her even more impatient.
She’s pretty sure it’s not a date that they’re going on tonight – she’s pretty sure it’s just a hangout between two friends who haven’t seen each other in a few weeks, but haven’t stopped texting for more than a few hours at a time. Jackson says it’s a date. Angela also says it’s a date. Lucy thinks she probably needs to stop asking people whether or not they think it’s a date and just treat it like it isn’t...because it isn’t. It can’t be.
Anyway, she’s been ignoring Tim’s texts about taking her to the diner, or maybe Nevin’s, or maybe this sushi place he’d discovered last week in Marina del Rey. She answers one text – a question about whether or not she thinks she’ll be ready by 6:30, to which she says, probably – and nothing else.
She’s on a long call with Jackson towards the end of the day, one that brings her back to the station with blood on her shoes and the smell of death sticking to her uniform, and she’s considering canceling. She wants to see him – she always wants to see him – but her head aches and she wants to go home, take a long, hot shower, maybe pour a glass of wine.
The last thing she ever expects to see when she walks back into Mid-Wilshire is Tim Bradford perched on the corner of her desk, tapping on his phone screen and laughing at something Harper is saying from a few desks away. She ignores the fact that she feels her heart tugging at the sight of him, that he looks so wonderfully Tim, that for a second it feels like he never actually left. She ignores the fact that she feels a little of her stress melting away just seeing him, that she wants to station herself next to him and ask him to hug her again the way he did his last day, the way he did when he walked her out of the bar the following night, the way he has the handful of times he’s seen her since.
“Nice of you to join us, Chen,” Nyla calls, ripping her out of her reviere with a laugh and a knowing smile. Lucy makes her way over to her desk and smiles, softly, nodding to Nyla and glancing over to Tim. “Bradford here was just showing me the video of your first arrest as a P2.” Harper grins, then stands up and starts packing things into her bag, laughing as Lucy tips her head back and groans, shooting Tim a glare.
“I was telling her it was a good arrest,” Tim says, his voice low, as he casts a glare over at Harper. Lucy rolls her eyes, but she can’t help but smile at him. “So,” Tim stands up, slipping his phone in his back pocket. “You finished ignoring me for the day, or are we going to have a silent dinner?”
“I wasn’t ignoring you,” she lies, shaking her head. “I was busy.”
Tim looks her over, taking her in and nodding knowingly. There’s concern between his brows and Lucy tries to pretend she’s not actually seeing it as she looks back at him. “You want to go get changed? I can wait here.”
Lucy nods, pressing her lips together, taking a deep breath. “I won’t be long.” She watches as Tim reaches out and puts his fingers on her wrist lightly, then drops his hand, stuffing it into his pocket.
“It’s alright,” he shrugs, “I’ve got time.” Lucy turns on her heel to head into the locker rooms before she can do something stupid like hug him, or worse.
She heads into the locker room and strips herself out of her uniform, showering off and getting herself dressed before looking in the mirror and frowning. She’d planned to get back to the station early, fix herself up a little bit, and be ready before he even got there – she’d planned to meet him outside, not to even let him come in. She grabs her travel makeup bag out of her locker and tries to touch herself up, shaking out her hair and putting on mascara, surveying herself again and taking in a slow breath.
It’s not a date, it’s not a date, it’s not a date, she tries to remind herself as she stares in the mirror for a long few moments. Something about the way she’s primping, about the way Tim looked at her and touched her wrist, is telling her otherwise.
Her heart swells as she walks out of the locker room and sees him leaning against the wall, waiting, his hands in his pockets. She doesn’t want to admit how much she’s missed seeing him waiting for her, right there. “Wow,” he grins as he looks up from his phone, taking her in, “you clean up nicely.”
Lucy rolls her eyes, shoving at his arm and hitching her bag over her own. Tim takes it off of her arm and slings it over his shoulder, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her into him. “Gee,” she grumbles, looking up at him and trying to keep her gaze firm, “truly a compliment coming from you, Sergeant Bradford.”
Tim laughs, grinning down at her. “Are you trying to tell me I clean up nicely, Officer Chen?”
Lucy doesn’t mean to shiver under his touch, but she does anyway and she knows they both feel it. She leans into him a bit, shaking her head. “I would never tell such a bold-faced lie, Tim.” Tim pushes the door open and lets her walk through it, rolling his eyes at her as he follows her into the parking garage. He settles his hand on her lower back as they walk in comfortable silence to his truck, parked in its usual spot, and Lucy grins up at him. “What’d you have to do, bribe someone?”
He laughs, shrugging. “Maybe. I can’t give away all my trade secrets, Lucy.”
“Ah,” Lucy shakes her head and she can’t keep the smile off her face as she leans back against the tailgate of his truck, tipping her face up and squinting at him. “Only some of your trade secrets, then?”
Tim slips her bag off his shoulder and settles it in the bed of his truck, crowding her space and leaning over her as he does. She can feel his breath against her face as his arms lift over her head, his legs pressing up against her own, and she absently settles a hand against his side, her heart beating hard in her chest. He finishes with the bag and stays close, his own hands moving to rest against the tailgate on either side of her shoulders. “I can share a few trade secrets,” he says, his voice low, “so long as you promise to keep them to yourself.”
Lucy swallows, keeping her eyes trained on his so she won’t do something stupid, like stare at his mouth. “You know I can keep a secret, Tim,” she smiles, raising her brow at him.
Tim lets out a low hum, and she expects him to keep talking – expects him to fight with her about how she’s an open book, or something – but instead, he drops his head down and suddenly his face is close to hers, close enough that she can feel his breath on her skin, that she can smell his mouthwash, that she can feel the heat of him, right there. “I know,” he says, a smile on his lips. “I just don’t think you should have to.”
She’s about to say something – she’s sure she’s about to say something – but she doesn’t get the chance, because Tim slides one hand over her cheek and presses the other to the small of her back, pulling her against him and slotting his lips over hers. He kisses her slowly, like he’s been planning it out on a map – he takes her lower lip between his own, he slides his tongue against the seam of her mouth to prod it open, slips his tongue into her mouth easily, his fingers sliding from her cheek and into her hair. She clutches onto the sides of his shirt, pulling him tight against her and sighing into the kiss, the best kiss, and losing herself in the feeling of Tim Bradford, the one way she hasn’t been allowed to have him before .
When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against hers and even though she has her eyes closed, she can feel him smiling. “Was that,” she breathes, her voice thick with want, “one of your trade secrets?”
Tim lets out a low laugh, shaking his head, his nose bumping against hers as he does. “No, that was just something I’ve been meaning to do for a while.” Lucy swallows, opening her eyes and searching over his face. “Figured I should get it out of the way before dinner.”
She lets out a soft laugh, tugging on his shirt lightly. “What, you thought I would’ve been distracted if you had waited, Tim?”
He smiles at her, brushing his lips against hers lightly. “No, I would’ve been.” Lucy sits with that for a long second before he’s coming back in and kissing her again, and she’s not exactly sure when kisses started feeling like this, but she’s not going to sit around and complain about it. She feels Tim pull his lips from hers, his head dropping to rest against her neck, and she brings a hand up to slip into his hair, her breathing ragged. “So, did you decide?”
Lucy furrows her brow, frowning. “Did I decide what, Tim?”
He lets out a low laugh, lifting his head and taking a little step away from her, his hand still in her hair. “Diner, or Nevin’s, or sushi in Marina del Rey,” he grins, raising a brow.
Lucy bites down on her lower lip, rolling her eyes and shoving at his shoulder lightly. “Shut up, Tim,” she grins, leaning up and pressing a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. She slips out of his grip and makes her way to the passenger side door of his truck, pulling it open and then glancing over her shoulder at him. “Sushi, obviously,” she grins, hopping up on the tracking so she can climb into the cab, “I don’t know why that was a question.”
She lets herself take another look at Tim, the glow of the parking garage fluorescence illuminating the flush on his cheeks perfectly, before she turns away and settles herself in his passenger seat.
She has time to get used to the view, she thinks. It's not going to be the last time she leaves this parking garage with him, not by a long shot.