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Sometimes, it genuinely shocked Lucy that people thought Tim was grumpy, mean, and brooding, because to her, he was one of the biggest softies she knew.
Not that she'd ever tell him that without immediately following it up with a reminder that he was also an insufferable pain in her backside. She had a reputation to maintain, after all.
But the truth was that Tim had a ridiculous amount of love to give. He was fiercely loyal to the people he cared about, protective in a way that rarely needed announcing, and far more thoughtful than he would ever give himself credit for. He was a brilliant uncle to his nephews, a good friend to Angela, and the sort of person who would quietly show up when someone needed him without expecting anything in return. He remembered the little things. He paid attention, even when he pretended not to be listening, and he had a habit of taking care of people in ways they sometimes didn't notice until much later.
Lucy had seen all of that long before they'd started dating. Living with him had only made it more obvious.
She'd also learned that the softer side of Tim Bradford came with a very exclusive guest list.
At the station, he was still the same sharp-tongued sergeant who could silence a room with a look. He wasn't exactly going around handing out compliments or volunteering to make everyone a cup of coffee. And he certainly wasn't about to start sharing his feelings during a morning briefing.
But at home, he was different. He was still Tim, still stubborn and sarcastic and occasionally convinced that asking for help was a personal failing. He just let himself relax. He let her see the little things. The way he reached for her hand when they were walking, the absent-minded kisses pressed to her temple as he passed behind her in the kitchen, the way he loved to pull her closer in his sleep, wanting her near even when he was unconscious.
Sometimes, she wished other people could see that side of him, too.
Which was probably why she'd spent the last several minutes sneaking glances at him while he fluffed their pillows and pulled back the duvet, getting their bed ready for the night.
Tim caught her watching him in the reflection of the wardrobe mirror.
“You're staring, which means you have something to say.”
Lucy smiled to herself. Of course he'd noticed.
“You're a really nice guy, you know that?”
Tim paused with a pillow in his hands and turned to look at her. The confusion on his face was so genuine that she almost laughed.
“Did you think I wasn't?”
She rolled her eyes, pushing the lid back onto her moisturiser before setting it on the vanity.
“Of course I did. I've known for a while.” She crossed the room towards him, stopping at her side of the bed. “It's just that sometimes it makes me sad that other people don't know. Like people at the station.”
Tim glanced at her, then down at the pillow he'd been holding. A faint smile began to tug at his mouth.
Lucy frowned. “Why are you smiling? This isn't funny. People should get to see the sweet side of you, too.”
He let out a quiet chuckle, setting the pillow against the headboard.
Only Lucy could find a reason to be sad about the fact that other people thought he was a hardass. She'd somehow taken something that didn't bother him in the slightest and made herself upset on his behalf.
It was one of the many things he loved about her.
He could have told her that he didn't need everyone to like him. He could have reminded her that the people who mattered knew who he was, and that was more than enough for him.
Instead, he looked at her standing there in her pajamas, brows drawn together in genuine concern, and thought that maybe she still didn't quite understand.
He wasn't keeping that side of himself hidden because he was afraid of what people might think. He simply didn't feel the need to show everyone everything. And, if he was being honest, there was something rather nice about having a side of himself that belonged to just the two of them.
Tim threw back the duvet and climbed into bed, settling against the pillows before patting the empty space beside him.
Lucy gave him one last mildly disapproving look before switching off the bedside lamp and slipping in beside him. She shuffled closer almost immediately, tucking herself against his side and resting her head on his shoulder. Tim's arm came around her, his hand settling at her waist.
“I think Smitty would have a heart attack if I started making his coffee on Monday,” he said.
Lucy smacked his chest lightly.
“Come on. You know that's not what I mean.”
Tim laughed under his breath, entirely too pleased with himself. Getting her riled up was one of life's simple pleasures, and he saw no reason to give it up now that they were sharing a bed.
“I really don't care what people at the station think of me. As long as they make arrests and follow orders, who cares if they think I'm a Grinch?”
“I know, but…” Lucy mumbled against him.
He glanced down at her. “But what?”
She was quiet for a moment, tracing a small pattern against the front of his T-shirt. “I just think they miss out on a lot.”
Something about the way she said it softened his expression. He brushed his thumb along her side, waiting for her to continue, but Lucy seemed to have said all she wanted to say.
Tim bent his head and pressed a kiss to her hair. “Luce, I only care what you think.”
She tipped her face up to look at him. “Really?”
“Really.”
She studied him for another second, as though she were checking whether he meant it, then seemed to decide that he did. Her expression relaxed, and she settled against him again, throwing one leg over his waist to get comfortable.
“Fine,” she conceded. “But you have to make Smitty coffee. Just so I can see his reaction.”
Tim stared at the ceiling. “Yeah, not a chance.”
Lucy shifted closer, fitting her cold feet between his calves.
Tim immediately looked down. “Absolutely not.”
“I'm cold.”
“You have your own feet.”
“Yours are warmer.”
“That's not how feet work.”
She ignored him, wrapping an arm around his middle and settling her cheek against his chest. A moment later, his hand found hers beneath the duvet intertwining them.
Tim sighed in contentment, his eyes already growing heavy. They'd managed to get home at a reasonable hour for once, he'd cooked them dinner, they'd taken Kojo for his evening walk, and now he was exactly where he wanted to be, in bed, with Lucy tucked against him and absolutely nothing left on his to-do list.
He was looking forward to a solid eight hours of unconsciousness. Nine, if the universe decided to be kind to him.
Which was why he was somewhat less than pleased when Lucy suddenly lifted her head from his chest.
“Remember that time I faked confessed my feelings for you?”
Tim's eyes opened.
Well. That had woken him up, because he definitely did remember.
He turned his head to look at her, finding her already smiling to herself. Of course she was. She'd brought up the incident with the same innocent expression she'd worn when she'd actually done it, which should have been enough to warn him that he was about to have a very long night.
“I still can't believe you did that,” he said. “My heart was racing so much I nearly crashed the shop.”
Lucy threw a hand over her mouth, doing her best to stifle a laugh. It didn't work particularly well. Tim watched her shoulders shake for a few seconds before pinching her waist.
She yelped, scrambling away from him.
“I'm sorry!” She was still laughing. “But that was funny, and you know it.”
“Yeah, hilarious. I nearly had a heart attack, and you were sitting there laughing it up. I would've given you a blue page if I could.”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “Please. You would never have given me a blue page.”
“I absolutely would have.”
“No, you wouldn't. We'd actually become friends at that point, so, no, you wouldn't have.”
Tim scoffed, but she was already sitting up against the headboard, apparently satisfied with her argument.
“I don't even remember what you said,” she added.
Tim opened his mouth to answer, then paused.
He couldn't remember the exact words either. He remembered the shop, the way his stomach had dropped when she'd told him how she "felt", and the brief, terrifying moment when he'd genuinely thought she was about to change everything between them.
Then he'd realised she'd been messing with him.
But there was something else he remembered, too. Something that if he brought up would open an entirely different can of worms.
“I don't remember either,” he said finally. “Let's go to sleep.”
He reached for her, intending to pull her back against him, but Lucy shuffled out of reach.
“Wait.”
Tim closed his eyes. He knew that tone.
“What?”
She stared at him, her earlier amusement giving way to dawning suspicion.
“Were you going to reject me?”
Tim went very still.
There were a number of ways he could handle this. He could tell her the truth, which would lead to a conversation he wasn't entirely prepared to have at eleven o'clock at night. He could lie, which Lucy would see straight through in approximately four seconds. Or he could attempt to change the subject and hope she was too comfortable to pursue it.
He decided to try the third option.
“Was I? I don't really remember.”
“Oh, my God. You were!”
“Lucy.”
“You were!” She pushed herself forward, staring down at him in disbelief. “I was laughing so hard that I didn't really notice at the time, but you said something like, ‘I'm flattered, but…’ You were going to reject me!”
Tim sat up slightly, staring at her.
He wasn't entirely sure how they'd gone from cuddling in bed and arguing about whose feet were colder to an interrogation about a conversation that had taken place years ago, but he supposed he should have known better than to let Lucy Chen get bored.
“I was your T.O,” he pointed out. “And you were my rookie. There were a few reasons I might've wanted to be careful about how I responded.”
Lucy folded her arms.
“That's not an answer.”
“It's a perfectly reasonable answer.”
“It's an excuse.”
“Fine. But at least it would've been a nice rejection. Not that ‘hand in your playbook’ stuff you pulled with Chris.”
Lucy stared at him.
Then, very slowly, her jaw dropped.
She leaned across the bed and switched on the bedside lamp, apparently deciding that this conversation required proper lighting. When she turned back to him, Tim had the audacity to be wearing a smug grin.
“Are you kidding me? You were the one who told me to say that to him!”
“Did I?.” he shrugged
“You said "rip the band aid off"’” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “And I felt horrible!”
“Well, not that horrible, since you came to see me the same night.”
Lucy narrowed her eyes. “Do not make me hurt you, Bradford.”
He laughed, reaching for her hand before she could deliver another blow to his chest.
“I didn't think you'd actually go through with it,” he admitted. “Besides, the guy was showing me houses he wanted to buy with you. If anything he had it coming.”
Lucy's expression faltered. She grimaced, looking briefly towards the ceiling as she remembered. She wasn't one to back down from an argument, particularly when Tim was involved, but he did have a point.
“Yeah,” she conceded. “That was pretty bad.”
“Pretty bad?”
“Okay, it was really bad.” She looked back at him. “But you said you could see yourself marrying Ashley.”
The grin disappeared from Tim's face.
Lucy noticed immediately. "Not funny anymore is it?"
She sat back against the headboard, folding her arms with the quiet satisfaction of someone who'd just discovered her opponent had been bluffing the entire time.
“Well?”
Tim rubbed a hand over his jaw, suddenly finding the duvet very interesting.
“I'm not sure why I said that.”
“You seemed pretty sure at the time.”
“I know.”
She waited, and for once, he didn't have a sarcastic remark ready to fill the silence.
He thought about Ashley. About how, on paper, things between them had been fine. She was a good person, and he'd wanted the relationship to work. He'd tried to make it work. There hadn't been one great, obvious reason to walk away, no spectacular fight or betrayal. There had just been this persistent feeling that something was missing.
And then there was Lucy.
Lucy, who could irritate him before nine in the morning and still be the first person he wanted to tell when something good happened. Lucy, whose opinion mattered to him far more than it should have, whose laugh he could pick out across a room, whose presence had slowly become something he couldn't imagine his life without.
He'd spent a long time convincing himself that whatever existed between them was nothing more than a friendship complicated by attraction and terrible timing. She was his rookie. His friend. Someone he cared about far too much to risk losing.
He'd told himself that what he had with Ashley was enough because he'd never seriously considered the possibility that he could have Lucy.
“I think I wanted to believe it,” he said at last. “That things were fine. That I could see myself settling down with her and that would be that.”
Lucy was quiet beside him.
Tim turned his head to look at her.
“It wasn't that she was a bad girlfriend. We got along. There wasn't anything particularly wrong with us.” He paused, searching for the words. “I just think I was trying to convince myself that fine was enough.”
His fingers found hers beneath the duvet, gently threading their hands together.
“And you were my rookie. Even when you weren't my rookie anymore, you were still Lucy. You were my friend. I didn't think there was ever going to be a chance for anything else, so I convinced myself that moving on was better than sitting around waiting for something that might never happen.”
He gave her hand a squeeze.
“Being with her was something I tried to picture. Being with you was something I didn't let myself picture.”
Lucy looked down at their joined hands, her thumb moving slowly over his knuckles.
It was a strange thing, hearing him say it so plainly. She'd known, in the broadest sense, that they'd both spent years circling around something neither of them had been brave enough to name. But she'd never quite considered how much of that time Tim had spent persuading himself that there was nothing to name in the first place.
She shifted closer, resting her head against his shoulder.
“I get that,” she murmured.
Tim turned towards her, pressing a kiss to her temple.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She was quiet for a moment. “I knew things with Chris weren't right either. He was a good guy, and I wanted it to work, but…” She sighed, searching for the right way to explain it. “It felt like we were trying to make something happen just because it made sense. And I kept waiting for it to feel different.”
“Different how?”
Lucy tilted her head back to look at him.
“Like how I felt with you.”
Tim's expression softened.
She gave a small, almost embarrassed laugh, as though admitting it out loud was still a little ridiculous, even after everything they'd been through.
“I didn't know what to do with that. You were you, and we were friends, and then we weren't, and then we were again. It was complicated.” She shrugged. “But whatever I felt for Chris, it wasn't the same. He wasn't you.”
Tim watched her for a moment before lifting her hand to his mouth and kissing her knuckles.
Lucy smiled, her cheeks warming slightly at the look he was giving her. She'd always found it unfair how easily Tim could make her feel like there was no one in the world besides the two of them just by looking at her.
Naturally, she decided to ruin the moment.
“Is that why you kept kissing me when we were undercover?”
Tim's head snapped towards her.
“I kept trying to kiss you?” he scoffed, reaching over to switch on his own bedside lamp. Surely he hadn't heard her right. “I'm pretty sure you couldn't keep your hands off me.”
“I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about.”
Lucy turned away to fluff her pillow, apparently preparing to go to sleep after making such an outrageous accusation. Tim stared at her for a moment, incredulous.
Oh, no. If he was going to be awake for this, so was she.
He planted a hand on her pillow, stopping her from settling down, and waited until she reluctantly turned to look at him.
“You know, we never actually discussed that kiss on the plane.”
Lucy blinked innocently. “What kiss?”
“‘We're supposed to be hooking up?’” he quoted, tilting his head at her. “Really, Chen?”
Even now, he wasn't entirely convinced that the kiss in the bathroom, where nobody could see them, had been entirely necessary. Not that he was complaining. He could kiss Lucy for the rest of his life and never get bored of it. But teasing her about it? That was an opportunity he would never willingly pass up.
In the warm glow of the bedside lamp, he caught the faintest hint of pink spreading across her cheeks.
“I was maintaining the integrity of the op,” she explained, with all the dignity of someone who hadn't just been caught out. “That's what they taught us in undercover school. Which, might I remind you, you encouraged me to attend.”
“Don't change the subject.” His grin widened. “You wanted to kiss me. Admit it.”
“I will do no such thing.”
“Sure.”
“I was being professional.”
“By kissing me in a bathroom?”
“Tim!”
He laughed, reaching for her when she tried to shove him away. He caught her arm easily, bringing her closer before she could come up with another excuse.
“It's okay, sweetheart,” he murmured. “You don't have to be embarrassed. I would've found a way to kiss you again eventually.”
Lucy paused.
For all his teasing, there was something in the way he said it that made her smile soften. She looked at him for a moment, her fingers curling around his, before leaning in to press a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth.
“Eventually?”
“I'm a patient man.” he shrugged
She laughed. “You? Patient?”
“I'm choosing to ignore that.”
“Probably for the best.”
Tim shook his head, smiling as he reached across her to switch off her lamp, as well as his own. Then he caught her around the waist and pulled her back against him, ignoring her surprised little squeak as he settled her warm back against his chest.
“Tim, I was perfectly comfortable over there.”
“Tough.”
His arm settled securely around her middle, and Lucy soon gave up her half-hearted attempt to escape, resting her hands over his and fitting herself against him. He pressed his face briefly into her hair, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo.
Much better.
“Goodnight, Lucy.” Tim's lips faintly brushed her neck
She tilted her head back enough to kiss his jaw.
A few seconds passed. "Tim?”
He sighed. “Hm?”
“Just for the record, you definitely wanted to kiss me first.”
He tightened his arm around her waist.
“Go to sleep, Chen.”
Her laughter followed him into sleep.