Work Text:
"You know I didn't take the test because of you..." Lucy said, her tone more pointed than accusatory.
"Of course," Tim replied without hesitation, his words even and calm. "It was a smart career move."
"It is a smart career move."
"And I haven't passed yet, so nothing's really..." She paused, then made a small, almost imperceptible gesture between them with her drink in hand. "Changed."
Her eyes stayed on him, looking for any sign of how he’d taken what she said.
Tim leaned back in his chair, the motion slow but sure.
"Well, this time next week, we’ll know." His voice was calm and assured, the kind of quiet confidence that didn’t ask for validation. It simply settled in the silence, certain it belonged there.
"Yes we will." She held his gaze, a hint of a smile pulling at her mouth.
They looked at each other. Something was building between them... unspoken but clear.
Whatever it was didn’t need to be named. Not yet.
Laughter from a nearby table broke the quiet. Lucy looked away and took a slow sip from her cup.
The motion was just long enough to let her gather herself again. The cool taste was grounding, a small but necessary tether to the here and now.
Across from her, Tim didn’t move. He didn’t speak. It was the kind of silence that didn’t press for words but welcomed whatever truth might rise to meet it.
“I’ve been going to therapy, y’know?”
The confession startled her more than she expected. Not because it shocked her, Tim had always been the type to carry more than he shared, but because it was him saying it.
She didn’t answer right away. Her eyes dropped to her drink, watching the ice turn in the glass.
When she spoke, her voice was quiet, the words slow and careful, like she was still figuring them out.
“How long?”
He shrugged... just one shoulder, and she could tell he was holding something back. “Few months. Maybe longer, depending on how you count it.”
There was no bravado in his tone. No pride, no shame. Just honesty, offered plainly. And in that honesty, something subtle shifted between them. She felt it, sharp, tender, in the centre of her chest.
“Why now?” she asked, her voice quiet, nearly lost in the ambient noise around them.
“Because I wanted to be better. For me. And for you. For this.” He made a small gesture between them, subtle but certain.
Lucy blinked, her breath catching just slightly.
“You could’ve kept that to yourself,” she said, the words soft but not unkind.
“I know.” He paused, his fingers now absently tracing the edge of his napkin. “But I didn’t want to.”
Silence settled again, but it wasn’t empty. It was full of weight, of meaning, of all the things they hadn’t quite said but were circling around.
“I’m proud of you,” she said, and surprised herself with how much she meant it, how deeply it sat in her chest.
He gave her a crooked smile, gentler than anything she’d seen from him in weeks. “That makes one of us.”
Lucy tilted her head slightly, her expression softening as she studied him under the golden wash of light that hung overhead.
“You’re allowed to need things too, Tim.”
“I’m starting to believe that,” he said, and whatever tinge of vulnerability lived in his voice then made something inside her ache.
Her fingers tightened slightly around her drink, steadying herself. “So what now?”
He smiled again, that same small, sure expression. “Now? We eat. And next week, we see what sticks.”
She huffed a breath. Not quite a laugh, but close, and gave a short nod. “Alright. But you’re still buying next time.”
“Therapy doesn’t make me rich,” he teased gently.
“Neither will my promotion, if I get it.”
“You will,” he said. This time, it wasn’t said to reassure her. It was said like it was already true.
And for the first time all night, she let herself believe it might be.