Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lucy Chen was not a jealous person. She knew that. She told herself that.

But apparently, all that self-awareness was useless the second a jewelry store saleswoman decided to throw herself at Tim Bradford like he was some kind of six-foot, broad-shouldered prize.

“Officer Bradford,” the woman said breathily, tilting her head so her hair fell like she was in a shampoo commercial. “You make that uniform look… very official.”

Lucy blinked. Very official? Really? That’s your line?

Tim didn’t so much as twitch, his jaw set in that patient, professional way that Lucy knew meant he was already uncomfortable. “We’re just here to verify last night’s burglary details, ma’am.”

The woman leaned over the counter, nthe neckline of her blouse doing way more work than necessary. “Of course. But if you ever need to… follow up… please, come directly to me.” Her eyes sparkled in a way Lucy would’ve rolled right out of the store if she weren’t technically working.

Lucy glanced at Tim, raising her brows: Are you seeing this?

Tim shot her a look back: What do you want me to do? Arrest her for bad flirting?

Lucy bit her tongue to keep from laughing out loud.

The woman slid a card across the glass. “Here’s my personal number. In case you think of anything else… or if you just need advice. On, say… gifts for someone.” Her eyes darted to his hand, making a point of noticing the lack of a wedding ring. “Something… romantic.”

Lucy’s jaw tightened. Okay. Nope. Absolutely not.

Tim gave the card the barest glance before tucking it face down on the counter, not touching it. “We’ll let you know. Can you walk us through where the entry point was?”

“Gladly.” She sashayed around the counter, brushing just a little too close to him as she passed. “It’s in the back, but don’t worry—I’ll show you the way.”

Lucy’s eyes narrowed. Lady, you are not Scarlett O’Hara. Stop swooning.

Tim’s look back at Lucy this time was pleading: Please don’t make a scene.

Lucy’s return glare: Oh, I’m not making a scene. Yet.

By the time they’d finished, the woman was practically batting her lashes in Morse code. “You know, Officer, you really command a presence. So tall, so strong. Anyone would feel safe with you around.”

Lucy sucked in a sharp breath, lips twitching dangerously. Tim heard it and immediately shot her a don’t-you-dare side-eye.

Lucy gave him wide innocent eyes in return: What? I’m being good.

The saleswoman’s smile turned syrupy. “And if you ever find yourself shopping for someone important… come back. I’ll make sure you get the best. Just ask for me.”

Lucy finally smiled sweetly, stepping just close enough that her arm brushed Tim’s. “Oh, thanks for the offer,” she chimed, her voice light, almost bubbly. Then, with the tiniest edge of steel: “If he ever needs something for someone special, I’ll make sure we come together.”

The woman froze, blinking like someone had just flicked the lights on. Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second before she quickly plastered it back on.

Tim cleared his throat. “That’ll be all, ma’am. Thanks for your cooperation.” He practically herded Lucy out the door, lips pressed together so tightly they almost disappeared.

Once outside, Lucy caught the side of his mouth twitching. Oh, he’s amused. Great.

She huffed, but secretly? The little flicker of satisfaction in her chest felt pretty good.

⸻

Hours later, in her kitchen, Lucy stirred sugar into her tea like she was trying to dissolve solid rock. Tim leaned against the counter, arms folded, watching with way too much patience.

“So,” he said finally, “you wanna tell me what that was back at the store?”

She didn’t turn around. “What what was?”

“The part where you nearly melted her with laser eyes and then staked a claim like you were planting a flag on the moon.”

Lucy’s cheeks burned. “Okay… fine. Maybe I was a little… territorial.” She turned, hands flying. “It’s not like me, Tim. I don’t do jealous. But she was practically crawling over the counter at you, and I just—” She blew out a breath. “I couldn’t help it.”

Tim’s lips tugged into a grin he tried and failed to suppress. “I noticed.”

Her eyes widened, as she tried to keep the hurt out of it. “You think it’s ridiculous.”

“No.” He stepped closer, voice soft, sincere. “I think it’s kind of amazing. Lucy, you don’t ever have to wonder. I only belong to you. No one else even registers.”

For a second, she melted. His words sank right into her chest. But then, the memory of that woman’s manicured finger inching toward his hand sparked again. The jealousy was still raw.

So when he leaned down and kissed her gently, Lucy gripped his shirt and deepened it, fierce and hungry.

Tim jolted, surprised by the sudden fire. This wasn’t his softly passionate Lucy. This was sharp, claiming, mine. And God help him, he loved it.

His hands slid to her waist, pulling her closer as she tugged him toward the bedroom. Their laughter spilled between kisses, heat rising fast, their bodies pressing together like they couldn’t get close enough.

Her fingers slid under his shirt, tracing lines of muscle, and he groaned, capturing her mouth again, deeper this time. She felt cherished, wanted, but most of all—she felt like she was staking her claim.

————-

Lucy straddled him, her kiss fierce and consuming, each deliberate movement staking a claim. Heat radiated between them—urgency, fire, the echo of a need that hadn’t cooled since earlier. Tim groaned beneath her, his hands steady on her hips, grounding her but never trying to steer. This was hers to lead. He wanted her to know that.

And then—just for a breath—she faltered. Her lips stilled, her gaze lifting to his, dark eyes shadowed with something rawer than desire. Vulnerability.

Was she too much, she wondered uncomfortably. Too possessive, too jealous? Did he understand that what drove her wasn’t insecurity, but love—fierce, unrelenting, impossible to cage?

It lasted only a second. But Tim saw it.

And he knew.

Because the truth burned just as strong in him—the same consuming fire, the same ache to hold her close, to claim her, to never let go. Words weren’t his strength, not when it came to feelings like these, but he could show her.

His hands slid up her back, and he drew her down to him, kissing with a fervor that matched her beat for beat. Every breath, every shuddering gasp, every desperate press of lips and bodies told her what his voice failed to: *I feel it too. I love you the same way. Without limits. Without doubt.*

They had made love before—sometimes she guided, sometimes he took control. But this wasn’t about control. Tonight was surrender. An offering. A promise that all of who they were—flaws, fire, fears—could exist here, and still be cherished.

Their rhythm built hot, frantic, then slowed into something steadier, deeper—like an unspoken vow etched into their skin. And when at last the urgency ebbed, they melted into stillness. Breath tangled. Hearts racing. Skin damp and warm. And in that quiet, absolute calm unfurled between them.

Lucy curled against his chest, his arms instinctively wrapping around her, holding tight. No words were needed. She felt the truth in his touch: he loved her, fiercely and without conditions. And he knew, without question, that she was his—not out of possession, but because she had already given him her heart.

They drifted into sleep tangled together, unshaken, reassured. Whatever battles tomorrow brought, none of it mattered here.

Because here—wrapped in each other, hearts laid bare—they both knew the truth.

They were loved. Entirely. Irrevocably. And nothing else mattered.

***

Chapter Text

The amber glow of O’Malley’s cast everything in warm honey, the kind of light that made even the scruffiest cops look like they belonged in a magazine. Lucy Chen wrapped her fingers around her beer bottle, still cold from the cooler, and let herself sink into the worn leather booth. Across from her, Tim Bradford looked perfectly at ease, his own drink barely touched as he scanned the room with that subtle awareness that never really switched off.

“Long day,” she murmured, more to fill the comfortable silence than because it needed saying.

“Could’ve been worse.” His eyes flicked to hers, that small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “At least no one got tased today.”

“The day’s still young.”

Before he could respond, a shadow fell across their table. Lucy looked up to find a man in his thirties, button-down shirt rolled to his elbows, hair perfectly styled, and a smile that probably worked on a lot of women.

“Excuse me,” the man said, directing his attention solely to Lucy. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I had to come over and tell you that you have the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen.”

Lucy’s eyebrows rose slightly. She glanced at Tim, expecting to see that familiar tightness around his eyes, the subtle shift in posture that meant he was about to assert himself. Instead, she found him leaning back in his seat, expression mild, fingers still relaxed around his beer.

*Seriously?*

“That’s… very kind,” Lucy said carefully, turning back to the stranger. “But I’m actually here with someone.”

She nodded toward Tim, who offered the barest acknowledgment—a slight lift of his chin that could have been mistaken for a casual greeting to a stranger.

The man’s smile widened. “Lucky guy. But he doesn’t seem too concerned about competition.”

Lucy felt heat rise in her cheeks, but not from embarrassment. Tim was watching this entire exchange with the same calm interest he might show watching paint dry. Where was the jealousy? Where was the territorial posturing she’d come to expect—and, if she was being honest, kind of enjoyed?

*He knows I get insanely jealous when women flirt with him. The least he could do is return the favor.*

“I’m Marcus,” the man continued, seemingly encouraged by Tim’s lack of reaction. “And you are far too gorgeous to be ignored.”

“Lucy,” she replied automatically, then immediately regretted giving him her name. “And like I said, I’m here with—”

“Tim,” Tim supplied helpfully, raising his bottle in a mock toast. His eyes met Lucy’s across the table, and she caught something that made her stomach clench—amusement. He was actually enjoying this.

Marcus glanced at Tim again, then back to Lucy with renewed confidence. “Well, Tim doesn’t seem to mind if I buy you a drink. What do you say?”

Lucy’s jaw tightened. She could feel Tim’s gaze on her face, reading every micro-expression. Two could play this game.

“You know what?” she said, letting her voice warm considerably. “That’s really sweet of you, Marcus.” She leaned forward slightly, just enough to make her interest seem genuine. “What did you have in mind?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tim take a slow sip of his beer. Not a flicker of concern. Not even a raised eyebrow.

Marcus straightened, clearly pleased. “How about champagne? A beautiful woman deserves something special.”

“Champagne sounds lovely.” Lucy tilted her head, letting her hair fall across her shoulder. “Tell me about yourself, Marcus. What do you do?”

She was laying it on thick now, batting her eyelashes and laughing at his increasingly bold compliments. Any second now, Tim would step in. He’d clear his throat, put his arm around her shoulders, maybe even flash his badge if Marcus got too pushy.

Instead, Tim simply watched, and Lucy swore she could see the corners of his mouth threatening to turn up.

“I’ll be right back,” Marcus said eventually, heading toward the bar. “Don’t go anywhere.”

The moment he was out of earshot, Lucy whipped around to face Tim. “Really?”

“Really what?” He was definitely smirking now.

“You were just going to let that go on?”

“Let what go on? A conversation?”

Lucy stared at him. “He was hitting on me, Tim. Aggressively. And you just… sat there.”

“You seemed to be handling it.” Tim’s voice was maddeningly calm. “In fact, you seemed to be enjoying it.”

“I was testing you!”

“I know.”

The simple admission made her sputter. “You—what do you want me to do, Chen? Charge in with a sword? You’re no damsel in distress, and I’m not your knight in shining armor.”

Lucy felt her mouth drop open. “Are you serious right now?”

“Dead serious. You’re a cop, Lucy. You carry a gun. You can take down suspects twice your size. You think you can’t handle one overly eager guy in a bar?”

She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again. Because he was right, obviously. She could handle Marcus with her eyes closed. But that wasn’t the point.

The point was that when women flirted with Tim—which happened more often than she cared to count—she turned into a possessive, jealous mess. She’d find excuses to touch him, laugh louder at his jokes, position herself between him and whatever blonde was batting her eyelashes in his direction.

And here he was, completely unbothered by Marcus’s attention, because he trusted her to handle it.

It was mature and respectful and everything she should want in a partner.

It was also incredibly annoying.

“I need some air,” she muttered, sliding out of the booth.

“Lucy—”

“I’ll be right back.”

She made it to the back exit before the frustration fully hit her. Leaning against the brick wall, she closed her eyes and tried to sort through the tangle of emotions in her chest. She wasn’t actually angry at Tim—not really. She was angry at herself for wanting him to be jealous, for needing that validation that he cared enough to be possessive.

*God, when did I become that girl?*

The cool night air helped clear her head. Tim was right, as usual. She didn’t need rescuing, and she definitely didn’t want to be the kind of woman who expected her boyfriend to fight her battles for her.

After a few minutes, she pushed off the wall and headed back inside, feeling marginally more rational.

She’d made it halfway across the bar when she heard Tim’s voice, low and calm but carrying that particular edge that made suspects rethink their life choices.

Marcus was back, and he wasn’t alone—another guy, probably a friend, stood beside him, both of them facing Tim across the booth.

“—told you she’s not interested,” Tim was saying, his posture deceptively relaxed. “When a woman says no, she means it.”

“Come on, man,” Marcus laughed, but it sounded forced. “It’s just a drink.”

“It’s never just a drink.” Tim’s voice dropped lower, and Lucy felt a familiar shiver run down her spine. She’d heard that tone before, usually right before someone ended up in handcuffs. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to finish your beer, pay your tab, and find somewhere else to spend your evening. Because if I see you bothering her again—or any other woman in here—we’re going to have a very different conversation.”

“Are you threatening me?”

Tim’s smile was all teeth. “I’m a police officer, Marcus. I don’t make threats. I make promises.”

The two men exchanged glances, clearly weighing their options. Whatever they saw in Tim’s expression made the decision for them.

“Whatever, dude,” Marcus muttered. “She’s not that hot anyway.”

Tim didn’t respond, just watched them retreat toward the front of the bar with the same calm attention he’d shown earlier.

Lucy’s heart was doing something complicated in her chest. She’d been wrong—he was protective. He just did it quietly, without fanfare or chest-thumping. He’d let her handle it until the moment it became clear Marcus wasn’t going to back down, and then he’d stepped in with surgical precision.

She approached the booth slowly, and Tim looked up as she slid back into her seat. His eyes met hers, searching her face with that intense focus that always made her feel like he could see straight through her.

“Better?” he asked quietly.

Instead of answering, Lucy leaned across the table and pressed her lips to his cheek, just below his ear where his skin was warm and smelled like soap and something distinctly Tim.

When she pulled back, his eyes were darker, pupils dilated in the amber light.

“What was that for?”

Lucy smiled, letting all the warmth she felt show in her expression. “For being you.”

He studied her face for a long moment, then nodded toward her untouched beer. “You want to get out of here?”

“Yeah.” She slid out of the booth, but not before catching his hand and threading their fingers together. “I do.”

As they walked toward the exit, Tim’s thumb traced gentle circles over her knuckles, and Lucy couldn’t help but smile. He might not be a knight in shining armor, but he was something better—he was a partner who trusted her strength while still being ready to have her back when she needed it.

And if the way his jaw had tightened when Marcus made that parting shot was any indication, he wasn’t quite as unaffected by other men’s attention as he pretended to be.

She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back.

Some things, Lucy thought, didn’t need to be said out loud.