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“Come on, Tim!” Lucy whines as she holds a garment bag that she’s brought over to his place. Tim, of course, had immediately objected upon seeing it—he’s not wearing a stupid costume to a party he’s already compromised on going to. “It’s Halloween! You can’t just wear your jeans.”
“Sure, I can,” he responds, deadpan. “I’m wearing them right now.”
“Not for long.” Tim smirks at her insinuation, and she drops her shoulders, exasperated. “I don’t mean like that. I have the perfect costume idea for us.”
“Us,” he echoes, amusement fading away as he eyes her garment bag suspiciously. “Lucy, I’m not wearing a costume.”
“It’s a costume party,” Lucy reminds him. He didn’t need the reminder; he very much knows this fact, and had told Angela that he wouldn’t be attending at all, and when he agreed to go for Lucy, he had said that he most definitely would not be wearing a costume.
“Fine. I’m a hitman,” he tells her. She huffs unhappily at him. “Come on. I’m not putting on...whatever bizarre outfit you have planned for me.”
“It’s barely a costume,” she protests, her eyes pleading. “You just need to wear your uniform.”
Tim eyes her doubtfully. “Just my uniform? That’s not a costume at all.”
“It’s enough to match mine, I just need to add one tiny accessory,” she assures him. “So, will you do it?”
That’s...not bad, actually. His everyday attire, and it makes for a happy girlfriend.
He sighs. “Fine.” Lucy bounces with excitement; leaving him with a fuzzy feeling that he’s making her happy, while also almost regretting his agreement—she’s too happy, which means this is a ploy, probably.
Glaring slightly at his girlfriend (he knows she’s aware he doesn’t actually mean it), he reaches into his closet to tug out the uniform he’s got in his house.
“Oh, your full uniform,” she clarifies, looking totally innocent. “Tie and all.”
He pauses. “Are you dressing me up as a rookie?”
“No!” she immediately denies. Then, she has a moment of realization wash over her face. “Well, I guess, technically—but that wasn’t my intention!”
“Lucy...”
“Just go with it, okay?” she pleads, batting her eyes at him in a way he just can’t resist.
“Fine,” he says again tersely, putting his short sleeves back on the rack and tugging out his long sleeves instead.
She leans forward, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thanks, babe! It’ll be great!”
Lucy skips out of the room to change, leaving Tim to slip into his uniform. He spots the garment bag she brought as she escapes, realizing with a jolt that her own uniform is tucked away in there. Is she planning on dressing them up as rookie and TO?
He decides to indulge her. He spent thirteen months torturing her; he can handle one night.
(And, well, the occasional bedroom role play, of course.)
Tim changes into his uniform, adjusting the tie with a mixture of resignation and amusement. He looks in the mirror, already dreading the jokes he’ll have to endure.
It’s not like it’s shameful, really. This is the same uniform he put on to take his Sergeant’s exam. To accept awards and medals. It’s not just about looking like a rookie. Lucy has photos of him in this uniform already; if it was just about seeing him in long sleeves, she’d just have to scroll through her phone.
When Lucy comes back out, he has to do a double-take at her costume—or, rather, her uniform. Her long-sleeves, proper attire, police uniform. And some...weird marks on her face?
He looks at her oddly. “You’re also a rookie?” he asks.
“No,” she answers, but it really doesn’t actually inform Tim at all what’s happening when she looks exactly like she did during her training period. It’s maybe doing things to him.
“Lucy—”
“Come on, come on!” she urges. “We’re gonna be late!”
She ushers him out of the house, practically bouncing on her toes as they head to the car.
They park just a couple houses down from Angela’s. From the lights and the moving shadows in her window, Tim can tell the party’s already gotten started. He doesn’t hear booming music, which is a nice plus, and Lucy’s beaming grin makes him think this might be worth it.
Right before they enter, however, she stops him.
“Just a few finishing touches,” she declares, just as she presses lightly against his nose in a quick, rubbing motion. He blinks.
Just when he thinks it’s over, Lucy reaches forward and places something orange and fuzzy on his head. Instinctively, he reaches for it, feeling the soft...ears?...on top of his hair.
Then, she’s putting another set of fuzzy ears, gray, on her own head.
Bunny ears.
Tim realizes, then, that the marks on her face are very intentional; they’re small dots on her nose and a few on her cheek—she’s meant to look like a bunny, for some reason. A bunny in a cop uniform.
“Alright, here’s a list of your quotes for tonight,” she informs him, before thrusting a piece of paper into his hand.
“Quotes?” he exclaims, before sighing in exasperation. “I signed up to wear a costume, not read off some script—”
Don't worry, Carrots.
You know you love me.
It's called a hustle, sweetheart.
“‘It’s called a hustle, sweetheart’?” Tim recites, blinking at the paper. Familiarity etches itself into his brain. He knows these lines. He’s heard them once, while hanging out with his nephews, when they’d insisted on watching some new animated movie... Then, he looks at Lucy’s bunny ears, and quickly rips the ears off his head.
Oh.
Yup.
Fox ears.
“Is this Zootopia?!”
Lucy grins. “Oh, so you’ve seen it! You’ll know exactly what to say then.”
“I—Lucy!” he says, bewildered. “You dressed me up like a fox? A con artist, at that?”
“Oh, come on,” she protests as she takes the ears back from his hands and re-situates them on top of his head. “He’s a cop by the end of the movie.”
“A rookie one,” he mutters unhappily as Lucy looks him up and down.
“Perfect,” she says, the corners of her lips turning upwards as her eyes twinkle, and then she turns on her heels, reaching for the doorknob.
The second Tim steps into the house, there’s a series of flashes in his direction.
“Wow, Tim! Look at you! A fox on the run!” Angela teases, snapping a few more pics before elbowing Nyla, who’s trying not to choke on her drink.
“Nice ears, man!” Aaron adds, snickering, his phone also out—recording a video. “And the sleeves really suit you.”
“Should we call animal control?” Celina jokes, while Nolan shakes his head, laughing.
“Don’t,” Tim grumbles. He glances at Lucy, who is barely suppressing her laughter. “You told them, didn’t you? They had jokes prepared.”
“Maybe,” she confesses, letting a giggle escape her lips. “It’s a rare opportunity, okay?”
Tim sighs.
It’s going to be a long night.
They enjoy the party for a little while, talking and drinking amongst their friends. Tim’s gotta admit, Angela throws a half-decent party—large enough to keep it busy, but not so large that it still keeps its intimacy; classy, and fun, and with some pretty great food. Everyone’s been making fun of his costume, but he sees what other people are wearing, and they have no room to judge: Celina’s dressed up as some kind of colorful witch, he thinks, and Angela’s head-to-toe in blue body paint for who knows what superhero, and Nolan looks absolutely ridiculous as Hulk. Only Grey and Nyla look somewhat sensible, dressing up as real people, though Tim hasn’t yet figured out who.
Lucy sits besides him, sipping her drink as she talks, and Tim’s hand absentmindedly rubs against her thigh, higher and higher as the night goes on. He knows exactly when he gets high enough to catch her undivided attention, because her breath hitches, and he smirks before moving back down.
“Tease,” she hisses at him.
His smirk widens as he leans into her. “It’s called a hustle, sweetheart.”
He’s nothing if not maliciously compliant.
It doesn’t take long after that for Lucy to drag him away, pulling him by the sleeve at his wrist until they’re alone.
Tim eyes her hungrily; it’s been a while she’s he’s seen her in the long sleeves, and it brings back memories of their early days. He hadn’t let himself think about her as anything other than a rookie back then, but the thoughts had seeped in regardless, and this is...definitely something he’d unwillingly fantasized about at some point. Lucy, carefree, pressing occasional, happy pecks against his lips, before finally luring him to a quiet corner in an uninhabited part of the house.
She sets her drink on the table, turning back to him as he begins to crowd into her space, gently stroking up her shoulder.
“Okay, I’ll admit it,” Tim starts, a smirk forming on his lips as he looks her up and down.
She leans against the wall, gazing up at him with dark eyes. “Admit what?” she asks lowly, her hand coming up to grasp his tie, pulling him closer.
“The ears... They’re kinda hot,” he husks, slowly stroking her ears.
Lucy’s eyes widen in surprise, then narrow playfully. “You think so? Because I was thinking the same about my handsome fox.”
He groans, but it barely escapes his lips before his uniform tie is tugged forward, and her lips meet his hungrily.
There’s no preamble; as soon as their lips touch, her tongue presses against his, her hands moving to grip against his uniform. He responds in kind, tilting his head to dive in deeper, his nose pressing against her cheek, his hand moving to her jaw to guide her face, desperate to taste more of her—
Someone clears their throat.
Immediately, they spring apart. Lucy is more graceful about it, simply slipping away from his grasp, immediately acting like she didn’t just have her tongue shoved down someone’s throat a moment ago, while Tim is much more aloof, blinking at the intruder.
Angela.
“How long have you been there?” he demands.
Innocently, Lucy grabs for her drink, sipping it casually as she avoids eye contact. Tim’s eyes narrow at her. Traitor.
“Long enough.” Angela smirks. “Didn’t realize you were a furry, Bradford.”
Lucy chokes on her drink.
“What’s a furry?”
Angela snickers. “It’s—”
“Nothing!” Lucy interjects quickly, almost squeaking. “It’s nothing.”
Angela smirks, eyeing the two of them with amusement. “If you say so. I’ll let you two enjoy your pet play.”
Tim blinks. “Our what—”
“See ya tomorrow,” she calls out as she turns the corner.
He looks back at Lucy, who’s now a light shade of red. She bites her inner cheek slightly before getting over whatever embarrassment she feels, reaching for him again.
“Wanna get out of here?” Tim asks, crowding her back against the wall, his hands falling to her waist as she loops her arms around his neck. “Go somewhere we won’t have people spying on us?”
Lucy hums, unconvinced. “Are you just using this as bait to allow you to escape the party?”
“It’s an added bonus,” he doesn’t deny. “But I’m more interested in something else.”
“Which is?”
“Finishing what we started, with no interruptions,” he tells her. He moves close to the shell of her ear, letting his lips graze it. “And you’re gonna leave the ears on.”
When he pulls away, though, Lucy isn’t wearing the wanton expression he expects. Instead, she looks half surprised, half amused, and she bites her bottom lip as if she’s trying to prevent herself from bursting into laughter.
“Oh my gosh,” she utters, letting a giggle escape. “You might actually be a furry.”
“Okay, what the hell is a furry?”
“You can google it,” she tells him, “tomorrow.”
His eyes narrow at her slightly. “It’s gonna be something that ruins this for me, isn’t it?”
“Maybe,” she answers, her voice getting slightly higher pitched as she drags out the word.
“So, you’re trying to get me to have sex with you before I find out what it is.”
She flutters her eyes at him innocently as she repeats, even higher pitched: “Maybe.”
Tim considers this carefully, weighing his options. He glances back down at her long sleeves, the adorable smudges across her face, and the ears. How she’s warm against him, pressed fully against his body, gazing at him with a small smirk.
Sex is sex, he decides. It’s a win. What he doesn’t know yet can’t hurt him. He’s going to take his time to enjoy tonight.
“Okay,” he agrees. “Let’s go.”
He pulls away from her, and grabs her hand, tugging her towards the exit. She giggles, not resisting at all.
“We should probably say our goodbyes,” Lucy says, but he can hear that she doesn’t actually want to.
“We should,” he replies, “but we won’t.”
They exit the house, hand in hand.
When they’re back in the truck, she turns to him, her eyes sparkling. “Thanks for dressing up with me, Tim. I had a lot of fun.”
Truthfully, he’d do it again in a heartbeat—teasing and jokes and photos and all—if it meant keeping the joyous expression permanently on Lucy’s face. The way she’s smiling up at him has his heart pounding, and it has him feeling sappy things he thought he’d never feel again. He wants to live in this moment of time forever, with her looking at him like he’s just made her entire week.
And, honestly, he’s having fun, too.
He’d never admit it out loud, though.
“You know you love me,” Tim murmurs instead.
Lucy beams. “Do I know that?” she asks. Then, after a beat, she answers it herself: “Yeah. I do.”