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“What’s going on between you and Lucy?”
Tim blinks at Angela while she plops ungracefully into the chair beside him, hands on her belly and dropping her swollen feet into her new husband’s lap to rub.
“What are you talking about?”
“I saw you two on the dance floor, looked like you two were having fun,” there’s a hint of accusation in her tone that sets him immediately on edge.
He sighs, “It’s a wedding, Ange, aren’t people supposed to have fun?”
“Mm, but you were having fun with Lucy. ”
“And? We’re…friends…” he trails off, unsure.
Angela scoffs, “Timothy, I’m your best friend, and you didn’t hold me like that when we were dancing.”
“Yeah,” Wesley interjects. “And if you ever looked at Angela the way you’re looking at Lucy right now,” Tim blinks to attention, peeling his eyes away from where his former rookie/new friend is talking animatedly with Nolan and Jan across the courtyard. “I’m afraid I’d have to kick your ass.”
“Or die trying,” Angela supplies, patting his cheek fondly.
“Hey, I’m no slouch!”
“I know baby,” she patronizes.
Tim rolls his eyes, “I liked you better when you were the silent partner.”
“He’s my husband, he’s legally obligated to speak for me.”
He rolls his eyes again, tipping his glass back and swallowing the rest of the whiskey. “You’ve been married for five minutes,” he grumbles before standing to head for the bar.
“Still counts,” Angela calls after him. “Don’t forget to get a refill for your friend .”
Tim does get Lucy a drink, because they’re friends and he notices her tequila and soda is low and he’s getting himself one anyway. That’s what friends do. He would do it for any friend. “Give me a Bud Light, too.” He throws an extra bill in the tip jar and gathers the drinks.
“As exhilarating as undercover can be, though, I’m so glad to be home. It was way more sitting around doing nothing than I’m used to. Thanks,” Lucy smiles at Tim as she takes her new drink, depositing the empty glass on a nearby table.
“Here,” Tim holds the beer bottle out to Nolan, who only stares dumbly in return. “This is for you.”
“Uh, thanks?” The older man takes the bottle, inspecting it as if it’s a puzzle, glancing at Lucy and Jan who simply shrug.
Tim sighs, agitated. “I noticed your beer was low and I was already at the bar.” The other three continue to stare, baffled. “It’s what friends do,” he huffs before taking a long swig of his own drink.
“I didn’t know we were that close of friends.” He holds the bottle awkwardly, and Tim has to admit that his other beer wasn’t actually that empty after all.
“Chen was just telling us all the exciting details of her op,” Jan mercifully changes the subject.
Lucy blushes, sipping her drink. “Like I said, I’m happy to be home, with familiar faces.”
Tim doesn’t miss the smile she directs at him, and his heart rate ticks up when he remembers their exchange two days prior when he pulled over her and Solonga’s henchmen. The way Lucy touched his hand, fluttered her eyelashes, the look she gave him that said so much more than her words. His heart races for a different reason when he remembers the familiar terror he felt when they lost track of her. He spent the entire night trying not to go Hulk Smash on anyone who stood in his way of finding her.
He clears his throat, turning his thoughts back to the present. Because it doesn’t mean anything; he would react the exact same way if any of his friends were in danger. If Angela was taken, he’d follow her to the ends of the earth to bring her home. It’s no different.
“Luce,” West drops his arm over her shoulders, startling her slightly. “You think you can get an Uber home?” He glances pointedly to the edge of the dance floor, where one of Wesley’s second cousins lingers, staring hungrily at the other man.
Lucy chuckles. “Go. Abandon me. Have fun and please tell me none of the dirty details.”
“You’re the best,” he kisses her cheek sloppily but pauses before leaving, apprehension clear on his face. “You sure you’re gonna be okay?”
It’s not that anyone really believes Lucy can’t take care of herself, she’s more than proved it in the last twenty-four hours alone . It’s just that leaving her in the hands of a stranger is not something any of them take lightly anymore.
“I’ll drive her home,” Tim tips his glass, “this is my last.”
“A true man of honor,” West smiles broadly, bumping Tim’s fist. He rolls his eyes fondly as the younger man practically bounces away with his new love interest.
“Thanks, Tim,” Lucy says quietly, leaning into his side. His hand comes up automatically to rest on her hip, his thumb making small circles over the emerald fabric as he grins down at her.
“For what? Doing my job?”
He would offer to drive any of his friends home. Even if they do live a full twenty minutes out of his way.
~~~~~~
Lucy fumbles with the radio settings in his truck, ignoring his glare when she lands on a catchy pop song. “Thanks for driving me home. I know it’s not exactly on your way but I just…since Caleb…”
“It’s not a problem, Lucy.” He meets her eye, smiling so she knows he’s sincere.
They’re quiet for several minutes as he navigates the dark streets, until the song changes to some Taylor Swift tune that Lucy is obsessed with. He reaches for the radio knob, but she grabs his hand. “Don’t you dare,” she warns, wrapping her slim fingers around his. For a moment, all he can focus on is the feel of her hand in his, and the way she holds it securely on the center console.
Finally, he finds his voice, though he needs to clear his throat before he can use it. “This damn song is gonna be stuck in my head for days now,” he grumbles.
“Well, every time you sing it you can think of me,” she teases.
“I already do.” He tries to make it sound like a dig, but it comes out far too fond. Judging by the coy smile on her lips, she hears it too.
They ride in silence the rest of the way, continuing to hold hands until Tim needs his to maneuver the wheel, and he absolutely doesn’t think about what that could mean. Because it doesn’t mean anything ; friends hold hands. He’s sure if he searches his memories long enough, he’ll find an example of when he and Angela held hands. But he doesn’t need to, because holding hands is a perfectly platonic, friendly thing to do.
Tim pulls into an empty spot near the door of Lucy’s building and shuts off the engine. Lucy pauses in gathering her bag and cocks her head at him. “What are you doing?”
“I’m walking you up,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. It should be, it’s what friends do. She doesn’t say anything, but the curl of her lips says enough.
The journey to the sixth floor is awkward and charged. Stilted chit-chat about the wedding: what a beautiful bride Angela was, the delicious food, Smitty’s surprisingly smooth dance moves. Until finally they’re standing on her welcome mat. Lucy has already unlocked the door but not yet pushed it open, and Tim nervously plays with his keys, not wanting to admit he doesn’t want the night to end.
“Do you want to come in?”
A stray curl clings to her cheek and without thinking, Tim reaches up to brush it away. He tucks it behind her ear, his fingers following the path along her jaw, until his thumb catches on her lower lip. His eyes focus on the way her lipstick smudges, imagining how soft her lips would feel against his. The heels she’s wearing puts her at the perfect height, he’d only need to dip his head a little to capture her mouth. That is decidedly not a friendly thought, though, so he clears his throat, dropping his hand and stepping back.
“I–I shouldn’t,” he says hoarsely. “I need to go let Kojo out.”
Lucy nods, trying to hide her disappointment. “Ok, goodnight, Tim.”
“Goodnight.”
He watches as she steps inside, listening to her engage the lock before making his way to the elevator. He stumbles to his truck in a daze, knowing without a doubt what would have happened if he’d gone inside. Jackson’s out for the night, and he’s pretty sure he heard Tamara say she’s staying with a friend, so there would be nothing stopping them from crossing a line they can’t uncross. Going home was the right decision.
~~~~~~
Tim tosses and turns for hours, unable to get Lucy off his mind. The feel of her body against his while they danced, her hand in his while he drove, the look in her eyes at their almost-kiss. It’s not the Taylor Swift lyrics that play over and over in his head, but Lucy’s husky Do you want to come in?
His phone pings on the bedside stand and his heart skips when he sees Lucy’s name. It’s yet another ClipTalk video and he rolls his eyes and taps out a text.
Tim: I told you, Chen, I’m not getting ClipTalk just so you can send me mindless videos.
He notices the time then, two forty-six.
Tim: What the hell are you even doing up?
Lucy: Can’t sleep.
Without thinking, he taps the call button and she answers immediately. “So instead of making yourself a cup of warm milk you decide to spam your friends with your social media addiction?”
“Warm milk?” she chuckles. “Okay boomer.” Tim rolls his eyes, sitting up against the headboard. “Besides, I’m not spamming all my friends, just you.”
Something in her tone tugs at him, but he pushes it aside. “Why can’t you sleep?”
She huffs out a frustrated breath on the other end of the line and he hears shuffling as she repositions. “I think it’s that adrenaline crash Harper warned me about. I’m so tired but I can’t shut my brain off, can’t convince myself I’m safe.”
“Isabel used to struggle with that. It’d take her months to come back to life after an assignment, and she always needed pills to help her sleep. I guess that should’ve been a clue…”
Lucy hums in reply. “I think I’ll stick to my herbal tea and puppy videos; I should be okay in a day or two.” For a few moments, the only sound is them breathing, and Lucy seems to notice the time. “Oh crap, did I wake you? I should let you go–”
“No,” he rushes to assure her. “I was up. I couldn’t sleep either.”
“What’s got you up so late?”
He can’t tell her the truth. He can’t tell her that ever since she played that prank on her last day, he’s been acutely aware of his own feelings. That he spent the entire evening fighting the urge to kiss her and even though he knows it was the right decision, it killed him to walk away tonight.
“Must be my own adrenaline crash,” he lies smoothly. “Being Angela’s man of honor was right up there with deploying to Iraq.”
Something loosens in his chest at Lucy’s giggle. They chat idly as she moves to her kitchen to make tea and Tim gets up too in search of a snack. “What’s your go-to can’t sleep TV?” He hears hers turn on in the background, so he clicks his on too, navigating to the backlog of his show on the DVR. “Let me guess, old sports highlights?”
“I don’t only watch sports,” he scoffs as he clicks play.
“Wait, is that the Top Chef intro? What episode are you on?” she asks excitedly.
They watch several episodes together, commenting on the contestants and their dishes, until Lucy falls quiet and he realizes she’s finally asleep. He doesn’t hang up right away, instead he mutes the TV and listens to her even breathing. As friends do.
~~~~~~
Tim doesn’t hear from Lucy for a few days. She’s given time off to recover from her UC assignment, so they don’t even see each other in passing at the station. Just as he’s winding down for bed one evening, his phone pings.
Lucy: I don’t go back to work for two more days but I’m going stir-crazy sitting at home. Do you and Kojo want to go on a hike tomorrow?
He replies immediately in the affirmative and they set their plans. They meet at his house, since it’s closest to the trail, and he tries not to stare at her body when she shows up in tight leggings and a crop top. Her hair is swept up in a high ponytail and she’s not wearing a stitch of makeup, but she looks every bit as beautiful as she did at the wedding.
They hike at a leisurely pace, allowing Kojo to sniff at every rock and weed, and Lucy reaches for Tim’s hand automatically when the terrain gets rough, holding it longer and longer each time. By the time they reach the top, his hand has found a permanent spot on her hip. Tim fills Kojo’s collapsible water bowl before joining Lucy at the overlook.
“It’s gorgeous,” she says and he agrees, though he’s not really taking in the view. “Thanks for coming with me today.”
“Of course, what are friends for,” he says casually.
“Tim.”
“Yeah.”
Lucy turns to face him fully, staring up into his eyes with a look similar to when she invited him in the other night. “I don’t want to be your friend.”
He furrows his brows before realization washes over him. “Thank God,” he breathes out, snaking an arm around her waist to pull her in. Their lips finally meet, melding perfectly as if they were made with the sole purpose of kissing each other.