Chapter Text
“That was incredibly stupid.” Lucy slammed the door of their safehouse shut, flipping the lock and spinning on her heel to head straight to the freezer in the kitchen for an ice pack. “Sit, and don’t bleed on anything.”
Tim opened his mouth to argue with her, then decided against it. He slumped wearily into a chair at the kitchen table, wincing as he felt the gash above his eye start to leak blood again. She crossed the distance of the tiny kitchen in a few steps, handing him the cool ice pack wrapped in a dish cloth. The heavy, platform heels from her department-issued undercover wardrobe made her nearly as tall as him, and they loudly punctuated her irritation with him with every step she took on the tile floor. He closed his eyes, and listened to her steps as she gathered first aid equipment from under the sink, and the bathroom down the hall. Several minutes passed by, and Tim had both stopped the leak of blood from his face, and also gathered courage to defend himself.
“Jake may be a dirty sleaze, but he would have done the same thing, and you know it.” Tim braced himself for more reprimand from her. He tried to appear calm and confident, and sat back in the wooden chair, holding the ice pack across his eye.
“Timothy. You picked a fight with a lieutenant of a drug cartel. Unprovoked.” She scolded him curtly, as she dropped first aid supplies on the worn wooden table. “We are supposed to get in and out. Not get killed.”
“He put his hands on you.” Tim nearly yelled as he felt rage and panic boil in his chest, and he tossed the ice pack aside and leaned forward, catching her gaze and holding it. “Lucy,” he grimaced, frustrated that the deep cut just above his eyebrow had started pooling blood again. He could feel her anger with him and fear for his safety fill the space between them, inflating and expanding. “I’m not sorry.”
She pursed her lips and sighed heavily, pulling out the other chair and sitting. She inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly in a controlled manner that told him she was shaking off the tail ends of the effects of adrenaline. When she finally met his gaze, Tim nearly choked. He caught a glimpse of the Lucy he knew, peeking out from under the layers of her undercover disguise, and he could tell she was trying to decide between tearing him apart or falling apart herself. He regretted his rash, unthoughtful actions earlier in the evening instantly- he vowed to himself never to cause her this much pain ever again.
“Lucy, I-”
“They could have killed you right there. We’ve watched these guys shoot low level nobodies for less.” She snapped at him tiredly, and broke his gaze with a soft groan of frustration. She pulled out the extension in her hair that covered her own honey brown wavy curls with what she had referred to as “the Juicy get up.” Tim quietly applied pressure to his reopened gash, watching her shed elements of Jake’s girlfriend. He was vaguely aware that she was scolding him, from her tone, but he couldn’t hear any of her words. Lucy leaned over, unzipping and unfastening the heels, peeling them off her feet. He inhaled sharply, realizing that his gaze had drifted to the deep neckline of her shirt. Juicy had a proclivity for dressing in suggestive clothing at least a size too small, and he struggled with her body constantly on display.
There was something wild in him that had to actively resist the urge to take down and lock up every single member of Hajek’s crew that had gotten a good look at the soft curves of her skin. It surprised him, how much it bothered him, it allighted something in him he knew he wasn’t going to shut off easily. He had let his own feelings cloud his judgment earlier, and hadn’t hesitated- yanking one of Hajek’s men off of her and slamming him into a wall with so much force the other man had crumpled into a limp pile, unconscious and unmoving. It had earned him the annoyingly persistent bleeding head wound and what will amount to a nasty, deep bruise along his back.
In uniform, the swell of her breasts were camouflaged by sensible, regulated clothing and when she was off duty, her style was less aggressively sexual. Except for that green dress. Though, he’d be a lying liar if he even tried to claim that he hadn’t thought about the curves and dips of her body. Tim snapped himself out of his own thoughts, suddenly aware that she was still lecturing him about keeping a level head, and exactly how each of his irrational actions could have gotten them both killed, or worse, exposed.
“- but no, you couldn’t let me handle it myself, you had to act like some sort of caveman, and they could have killed-”
“But they didn’t. I’m fine.” He cut her off, surprised to hear his voice was calm and soothing, rather than the angry feral he had felt earlier that night. “I’ll be fine.” He reached for a bandage, as something to focus on, and he frowned when she swatted his hand away.
“Let me.” Her words were direct, but her tone was soft now, too, and he sat back in the chair immediately acquiescing. He closed his eyes again, tipping his head back to allow her access to his eye. He didn’t have to see to know that she was in his personal space, and instead of stepping around to stand behind him, she stepped into his lap, standing over his leg, a knee on either side of his thigh. He bit his lip, willing his heart rate to remain steady. Beside him, Lucy worked for several quiet minutes, applying pressure and cleaning out the wound.
“I’m sorry I scared you.” His words came out like a faint whisper, and he reached out to rest his fingers along the waistband of her pants as much to reassure her as to steady himself. “I didn’t think.”
“This is going to need stitches.” He winced as she applied a butterfly bandage, and then another, precariously holding the rip in his skin closed. “Tim.” She moved her hand to his jaw, and he peered at her with his good eye, offering her a small smile. Above him, she returned his smile with a faint one of her own. “We can’t be reckless.”
Her words were a quiet whisper, and he wasn’t sure if she was still talking about Hajek’s men, and the warehouse, and his impromptu fist fight, or the electricity between them at this moment. He scanned her features slowly, taking in the curtains of honey chestnut hair dangling in front of him. Her collarbone peeked out from her shirt, and he bit his lip, willing himself to remain calm and steady in the sight of so much of her. He inhaled slowly, and tugged her waist closer to him. She stepped closer immediately, and tilted her head, catching his gaze with an amused smile on the corner of her mouth. He knew that she could likely hear him thinking- there were no secrets between them, due largely to the fact that she read him so effortlessly.
“I absolutely agree.” He matched her smile softly, finding her waist with his other hand as she leaned her forehead gently against his, careful of his wound. The curtains of hair were just that, now- falling on either side of his face, and shielding them both from the complexity of their multiple realities. His fingers wandered lightly, slipping just under the hem of the tiny little shirt she wore. His smile turned to a grin as he felt her shiver under his touch.
“Everything will be different.” She pulled back only slightly, enough to arch an eyebrow at him, as if challenging him.
“I absolutely agree.” He repeated, and he was pleased that she rolled her eyes- finally something familiar. He turned slightly, and pressed a kiss to her palm. “It's already different. We’re different.” Their first kiss, in her apartment, seemed a distant memory, though Tim was unwilling to put the taste of her out of his mind. They had kissed several times in the last 36 hours since then, but always as their covers, and not as themselves.
And now, here she stood, inches from him, soft smile and wide brown eyes. Tim licked his bottom lip, and his hand slipped from under the hem of her shirt to her cheek, pulling her down to him and-
The burner phone in his pocket rang shrilly, startling them both. He closed his eyes, defeated as he reached for it, and she stepped back, just far enough to be out of his grasp. Tim flipped the phone open, and held it to his ear, finding her gaze again, and holding it.
“What.”
Lucy smirked at his annoyed, sharp tone, and sat back in the old wooden chair opposite him. Glancing at the clock above the stove, She realized they had missed their midnight check in.
“Ok, Sergeant Grumpy. Put me on speaker.” Angela’s voice on the other end was all business, and Tim frowned, hitting a button and placing the phone on the table between himself and Lucy.
“Go ahead.”
“Go ahead nothing. You were supposed to call me with an update. Why did you miss the midnight check in? Are you guys okay?”
“We were delayed getting back in is all.” Lucy piped up, pulling her gaze from the phone to Tim. “Tim ran into a little testosterone trouble with some of the crew, but everything is still a go for tomorrow.”
“Broken bones, bruises, or stitches?” Angela’s voice was flat, and Tim frowned, unamused.
“It’s fine. I’m fine.” He threw an exasperated look at Lucy, who arched an eyebrow at him challengingly. “Lucy patched me up.”
“Alright, probably best to wait out medical attention until after the op- drug runners don’t run to the ER for scrapes and bumps. A homemade patch job will have to suffice, for a day or so. You guys good until the nine o’clock check?”
“Good.” Lucy replied, calm and steady. “G’night.” With that, Angela ended the call, and Tim grabbed the phone back off the table, folding it shut.
The silence suddenly felt awkward, hanging heavily in the dimly lit corner of the kitchen, and Tim wasn’t sure what to do. He stood, grimacing as he stretched his aching back, and busied himself collecting the first aid supplies. He couldn’t right whatever was going on between them, but he could at least tidy the mess in front of him. He could feel her watching him, working out what to say.
“Please don’t yell at me.” Tim surprised himself at how quiet the words sounded as they tumbled out of his mouth, his normal reserved, procedure-focused professionalism filter long gone. “I don’t want to fight with you about this.” He waved his hand tiredly, gesturing at the abrasion on his forehead, which had finally stopped leaking blood, and had started throbbing dully. He boxed up the supplies on the table, and pursed his lips together, gathering courage to finish his thought out loud.
Beside him, she said nothing. He could feel her eyes on him, worried, and he knew she was waiting for him to finish explaining what was on his mind. She had a habit of knowing precisely what he needed, even before he knew himself. In this moment, he was grateful for it, rather than how it usually annoyed him.
“It’s just,” he paused, breathing to settle his heart rate. “It’s just this is the most difficult assignment I’ve ever had. The drug runner stuff, that’s not hard. I mean, UC stuff isn’t my strength, and it brings up a lot of old baggage that I don’t like to think about, but it’s exhausting, Luce. I’m tired. I’m tired of separating out what is them and what is us.” He finally shifted his gaze to her, and his shaky resolve cracked further when he saw the expression of concern on her features. “It’s just really hard to separate out what belongs to Jake and what belongs to me. It all feels so blurry, and that greasy maniac grabbed you and I forgot about being Jake. I forgot you can take down a four hundred pound suspect on your own. I forgot everything, Lucy, and I put us in danger.”
She stood, immediately pulling his body to hers, wrapping her arms around him firmly, grounding him. Tim hugged her back, giving into his need to feel her, touch her.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” Her words were calm, and soothing, and even against his ear, and he closed his eyes, willing them out of this dingy dark little safehouse, and back to his living room, or hers. “You scared me.” Her hands ran along his back and shoulders gently. He flinched involuntarily as her fingers grazed the place on his back that he had been hit with a pipe in the scuffle earlier that evening. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.” She pulled back enough to meet his gaze, and moved a hand to his jaw, feeling the rough stubble of his beard on her palm. He curved a corner of his mouth apologetically, and pushed a lock of hair out of her face.
“I’m really sorry, Lucy.”
Lucy wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her ear to his chest, hugging him firmly, and listening to his heart rate. He wrapped his arms around her as well- one along her shoulders, the other along the bare skin at the hem of her shirt. They stood like that for a few moments, each gathering their bearings.
“I think.” She started, muffled into his shirt. “I think we should wash off these other people and make some room to be ourselves, for a few hours.” Lucy paused, listening to his heart rate climb back down toward his normal tempo, and his muscles begin to relax. “This assignment made everything different, and we haven't sorted it out yet.”
“I agree.” Tim smiled wistfully, and leaned to press a kiss to the top of her head. “But first, showers. We smell terrible.”