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Tim grimaces as he glances in the mirror of the men’s locker room.
The cut is deep, but he still doesn’t think he needs stitches, no matter what Nolan says.
He’s fine, he —
“Tim!”
He startles, nearly whacking his head on the paper towel dispenser as he stands to his full height, spinning around to see Lucy stalking into the men’s locker room, her face full of concern and her hands already reaching out to him.
“What the —”
“Nolan said you got hurt,” she murmurs, her voice dripping with concern as she stops in front of him, one hand already lifting to brush gently against the healthy skin around his new wound. “That… that there was a gun to your head and you told him to shoot them both and don’t worry about me?!”
Tim grimaces.
It really was too much to hope that that particular statement wouldn’t make its way back to her, wasn’t it?
He grimaces again, this time for an entirely different reason.
“Sorry,” he says, grunting as Lucy presses beneath the cut. The skin is still tender and swollen, and it starts to bleed a little bit as she inspects it. “It was… an intense situation. And I knew Nolan wouldn’t do it, I just needed to distract them a little —”
He winces when Lucy presses on the cut a little harder than necessary as she wipes the blood away with a paper towel. She’s frowning at him, and he sighs as he slumps back against the sink, lowering himself to her level so she can reach the wound more easily.
“I’m fine, Luce. Really.”
She huffs as she tosses the paper towel and turns away from him.
Well, he deserves that, he supposes.
It was a stupid thing to say.
He’s turning to bandage his own cut — because he’s a grown ass man and can handle putting on a bandaid, thank you very much — when Lucy stomps back over, first aid kit in her hands.
“Don’t you ever say anything like that again,” she snaps, and he nods, already preparing himself for the sting of the antiseptic he knows is coming.
“Sorry,” he whispers again.
Lucy makes a noise and Tim finally raises his eyes to hers, his heart fucking shattering when he sees that she’s crying, tears filling her beautiful brown eyes and spilling over as she cleans his cut more than it really needs. Her fingers are shaking as she dabs at the cut, the gauze already drying as she cleans it over and over and over —
“Lucy.”
Tim reaches out and circles his long fingers around her wrist, pulling her hand away from his face. She startles, dropping the bloodied gauze to the floor as Tim stares at her, one hand sliding under her chin to raise her gaze to his.
“I’m fine.”
“This time!” she cries, pulling her hand from his grasp and turning her back to him, hating the way she’s breaking down in the middle of the station. “You’re fine this time, Tim! But you could have… if Nolan…”
“But he didn’t,” Tim says softly, reaching out to take her hand again, this time palm to palm, fingers entwining. He pulls her back to him, her back to his chest, and then slides his other arm around her shoulders, his palm resting over her heartbeat. “He didn’t. And I never should have said that, Luce. I never should have said it. I’m sorry.”
Lucy sniffles and nods, her free hand brushing quickly at her eyes.
“You should be,” she says, sniffling as she places her hand over his, their hands pressed together over where her heart is just beginning to slow. “You … you can’t say that. You can’t say don’t worry about me because if… if you’d gotten shot, if you’d died…”
She trails off, the words stuck in her throat, but Tim knows.
“I know,” he whispers, his voice vulnerable, soft. He catches her gaze and watches as another tear spills down her cheek and he hates himself a little bit that, once again, he is the reason she’s crying. “I’m sorry, baby.”
Lucy whimpers and turns in his arms then, laying her head on his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist. She presses her ear over his heart and Tim sighs, melting into her a little bit, the stress from the long day slowly bleeding out of him as she relaxes into him, her hands warm against his back and her breath puffing hotly against his neck.
“Don’t ever,” she whispers, sighing as she turns her head, propping her chin on his chest and glaring at him in a way that would bring lesser men to their knees. “Do that again. Do not put your life on the line like that, like… like it doesn’t matter, because it does, okay? Your life does matter.”
Tim nods, his eyes stinging and his cut aching as he tightens his arms around her.
“I promise.”
Lucy lets him hold her for a long time, but eventually she pulls back, wiping at her eyes as she reaches for the abandoned first aid kit. She pulls out a bandaid and holds it up, a small smile playing at her lips as she no doubt finds herself thinking about the exact same thing he’s thinking about.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” he murmurs, and Lucy laughs, her eyes sparkling with more than tears as she removes the protective coverings, stands on her tiptoes, and gently places the bandage over his wound.
“The bandaid actually made it on your skin this time, though,” she points out, and Tim chuckles in agreement as she carefully presses down the edges.
“Yeah, it did.”
Lucy steps back once it’s properly in place, her eyes flickering down to Tim’s lips as she remembers what else had happened that night she’d taken care of him.
Tim’s breath catches as he, too, remembers, and they both smile awkwardly as their eyes finally meet.
“We shouldn’t,” she murmurs.
Tim smiles softly, reaching out to take her hand and brushing his thumb across her knuckles gently.
“I know.”
Lucy squeezes his hand and then stands on her tiptoes, her lips pressing gently to the bandaid for a long moment.
“I still don’t regret it,” she breathes, and Tim’s breath catches as she stands back, putting a few careful inches between them.
“Me, either,” he murmurs, still holding her hand. “But maybe… maybe next time… we could talk?”
Lucy’s breath catches and Tim waits, his heart in his throat.
“I’d like that.”
Tim smiles and squeezes her hand once more before letting it drop, and Lucy stands there, still not breaking eye contact as the space between them practically pulses with tension.
“I should…”
She points over her shoulder to the door, and although Tim knows it's the right thing to do, it’s also the hardest.
“Yeah,” he whispers, nodding. “Yeah, okay. See you tomorrow?”
Lucy nods, her red eyes mostly clear now and her lips pulled into a small, soft smile as she walks backwards through the men’s locker room.
“Yeah, Tim. See you tomorrow.”
See you tomorrow.