Work Text:
The first time Lucy notices the glasses, she doesn’t say anything.
She just watches.
Tim is standing at the kitchen counter, sleeves pushed up, head bent over a spread of paperwork that looks far too official for this time of night. The apartment is quiet with no radio chatter, no sirens bleeding through the walls, just the soft scratch of pen on paper.
And the glasses.
They’re simple. Practical. Something most people wouldn’t think twice about.
Lucy can’t seem to look away.
Because he doesn’t wear them outside. Not on duty, not around anyone else. This – this version of him, quieter, softer at the edges – is something she only gets to see here.
At home.
Their home.
She leans against the doorway, taking her time with it. The faint crease between his brows. The way he pauses, tapping the pen once before continuing. The reflection of the overhead light in the lenses.
It does something to her.
Something warm. Something distracting.
So, naturally…
She pushes.
“You know,” she says, stepping into the kitchen, voice light, “most people don’t bring work home on purpose.”
Tim doesn’t look up. “Most people don’t have paperwork that needs to be done.”
Lucy hums, moving closer, reaching for his mug and taking a sip before she can stop herself. She immediately grimaces. “This is terrible.”
“It’s coffee.”
“It’s a crime,” she corrects, setting it back down. Then, more casually, like it’s an afterthought, “Also, you look like a professor.”
That gets a reaction.
Tim glances up at her over the frames, unimpressed. “Don’t start, Chen.”
Too late.
She smiles, slow and deliberate, circling just a little closer. “I’m serious. It’s working for you.”
“They’re glasses.”
“They’re your glasses,” she counters.
For a second, his attention lingers on her a beat longer than necessary.
Then he looks back down.
Conversation over.
Except…
Lucy’s eyes drift to the paperwork.
“What is all this?”
“Follow-up reports.”
“At home?”
“Yes, at home.”
There’s something in his tone now, very subtle, but there.
Lucy shifts, leaning back against the counter beside him. “You said you were done for the day.”
“I am. This is just extra.”
“Extra you didn’t have to take.”
“It needs to get done.”
“And it will,” she presses, “tomorrow.”
Tim exhales, setting his pen down. “Lucy.”
“No, I just – “ She shakes her head, turning to face him fully now. “You don’t have to carry everything all the time.”
“I’m not.”
“You kind of are.”
“And you’re not?” he shoots back, sharper now. “You don’t replay calls, don’t take things home with you?”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“Because I know when to stop.”
His jaw tightens.
“I know how to handle it,” he says.
“And I know you think you have to do it alone.”
The words land between them, heavier than intended.
Silence follows.
Lucy exhales, softer now, stepping closer without fully deciding to. “Tim…”
He looks at her.
Really looks at her.
And just like that, the argument slips – not gone, just… changed. Redirected into something quieter, heavier.
Closer.
She doesn’t realize how little space is left between them until his hand finds her waist.
It’s instinctive.
Firm.
Grounding.
Her breath catches, just slightly, but she doesn’t pull away. If anything, she leans in, fingers brushing the front of his shirt like she’s testing something.
“So… you’re still working?” she murmurs, softer now.
His gaze drops to her mouth.
“Not anymore.”
The shift is immediate.
He moves first this time, backing her into the counter in one smooth step, the edge pressing into her hips as her hands find his shoulders. There’s a split second where they both register the closeness.
And then he lifts her.
Effortless.
Like it’s nothing.
Lucy lets out a quiet breath as she lands on the counter, her hands sliding up along his shoulders as he steps in between her knees, closing the space completely.
Now there’s nowhere to go.
No distance left to hide in.
Just him.
Her fingers trace lightly along his jaw, slower now, her gaze flicking over his face, and catching, again, on the glasses.
Still there.
Still between them.
Something about that makes her smile, softer this time.
“Hold on,” she murmurs.
Tim barely has time to react before her hands come up, fingers brushing his temples as she slides the glasses off his face.
This time, it’s different.
Slower.
More deliberate.
Her eyes don’t leave his.
The moment stretches as she folds them carefully, setting them aside behind her without looking.
And just like that…
The last barrier is gone.
“There,” she whispers.
Tim exhales, something in his expression shifting, restraint slipping just enough to show through.
“Luce…”
But she’s already leaning in.
This time, when he kisses her, there’s nothing holding it back.
It’s immediate. Certain. Built on everything they didn’t say, everything that’s been sitting just under the surface. Lucy pulls him closer, her fingers tightening in his shirt as his hand slides up her side, anchoring her there.
The kiss deepens quickly and then slows, softening at the edges without losing its intensity.
It lingers.
Breath mixing, movement unhurried now, like they’re both choosing to stay in it instead of rushing past it.
Lucy exhales against his mouth, her head tipping back slightly as his lips follow… until they don’t.
He pulls away just enough to shift, his mouth tracing along her jaw instead, slower now, deliberate.
“Babe…”
He doesn’t answer.
His hand steadies at her waist as his head dips, his lips brushing beneath her ear, so soft, unhurried in a way that makes her breath catch.
Her fingers tighten against his shoulders, her head falling back without thinking, giving him space – and he takes it.
Carefully.
Intentionally.
His mouth moves lower, just barely, until it reaches the ink at her neck.
He pauses.
Just for a second.
Then he kisses it.
Slow.
Lucy inhales sharply, the sound catching as her grip tightens, everything else fading under the weight of it.
For a moment, nothing else exists.
No work.
No argument.
Just this.
Just him.
Eventually, Tim exhales against her skin, grounding himself again, his forehead resting briefly against her shoulder.
Lucy lets out a quiet, breathless laugh, her fingers sliding back into his hair.
“Your paperwork,” she murmurs softly. “Very important.”
He huffs a quiet laugh, pulling back just enough to look at her.
Then, without a word, he reaches past her, feeling along the counter until he finds the glasses.
Lucy watches, curious, as he turns them over in his hand.
“Tim…?”
He doesn’t answer.
Just steps back in slightly and lifts them to her face instead.
She blinks as he settles them on her nose, the world shifting slightly through the lenses as she looks at him.
“What are you doing?”
“You said they were working for me,” he murmurs, quieter now. “Figured I’d test it.”
Lucy huffs a soft laugh, shaking her head, but she doesn’t take them off.
“Yeah?” she says, leaning in just slightly. “And?”
His gaze drops to her mouth.
“Yeah, it’s working.”
That’s all the answer she gets before he slid both arms down her back.
“What are you – Oh my…Tim –“
The word dissolves into a quiet laugh as he lifts her, easy and certain, one arm under her knees, the other steady at her back. Instinctively, her arms come up around his shoulders, the glasses slipping slightly again as she looks down at him.
“Careful,” she murmurs, adjusting them slightly. “These are prescription, you know.”
Tim’s mouth twitches. “Yeah, I noticed.”
She glances down at him through the lenses, the world just a little sharper, a little different, and something about the way he’s looking at her now makes her breath catch all over again.
“You’re good?” she asks, softer.
His gaze drops to her mouth.
“Yeah,” he repeats.
There’s a beat where neither of them moves.
Like they could go either way…back to the kitchen, back to the moment, back to pretending he has any intention of finishing that paperwork.
He doesn’t.
“You know I can walk, right?”
“Yeah,” he says, already moving.
Doesn’t slow down.
Doesn’t put her down.
Lucy shakes her head, but she’s smiling now, softer than before, her fingers curling lightly into the back of his shirt as he carries her out of the kitchen.
Past the abandoned counter.
Past the cold coffee and untouched reports.
The apartment is quiet again, but it feels different now. Warmer. Closer.
Lucy watches him as they move down the hallway, the familiar space somehow shifting under the weight of the moment, of him, of this.
“You’re not going back for those,” she says after a second, nodding vaguely toward the kitchen.
Tim doesn’t even glance back.
“Nope.”
“Good.”
That earns her the smallest hint of a smile.
By the time they reach the bedroom, the teasing has softened into something quieter again, something that lingers in the way he lowers her just slightly – not enough to let go, just enough to shift his hold – like he’s in no rush to end this part either.
Lucy’s fingers slide up into his hair, brushing lightly, her voice softer now.
“Your glasses,” she murmurs, tilting her head just enough to look at him through them again. “I think I’m keeping them.”
Tim huffs a quiet laugh, leaning in just enough that his forehead brushes hers.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
His hand comes up, adjusting them slightly on her face, gentler this time.
“You can keep them, if you want” he says.
And then he kisses her again.
Slower now, no urgency left, just the quiet certainty of it as he finally steps the rest of the way into the room, letting the door fall shut behind them, and placing her on the bed.
“I want to keep you” she whispers, so low that he can barely hear it.
“I’m already yours, Chen.”