Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lucy stared at the numbers on her laptop screen, willing them to somehow rearrange themselves into something that made sense. She'd run the calculations three times now, each iteration more depressing than the last. Rent, utilities, groceries, car payment, insurance,  the list stretched down the screen like an itemized reminder of how precarious her financial situation had become.

She reached for the coffee mug on her side table, Jackson's favourite, a ridiculous thing with a cartoon donut that said "Donut Give Up" and took a sip of what had long since gone cold. The apartment felt too quiet around her, the kind of silence that had become familiar over the past two months. Jackson's bedroom door stayed closed, but his presence lingered everywhere else. In the rent that had been split two ways now fell entirely on her shoulders. In the utilities that didn't care if only one person was using them now. In the empty space on the couch where he used to sprawl with his own laptop, complaining about his student loans while she complained about hers.

Lucy rubbed her temples and clicked over to another apartment listing. Studio in Hollywood, still too much. One-bedroom in Koreatown, but better; however, the photos looked like they'd been taken through a fog machine. She was scrolling through a place in Van Nuys that advertised "character" (code for "probably haunted") when her phone alarm went off.

Time for work. Time to pretend that everything was fine, that she wasn't one unexpected expense away from having to move in with her Aunt Amy.

She closed the laptop with more force than necessary and grabbed her duffle bag. In the kitchen, she paused at the counter where Jackson used to leave his protein shake remnants, now home to her own breakfast dishes and a growing stack of mail she'd been avoiding. Bills had a way of multiplying when you ignored them, like some sort of administrative hydra.

"Get it together, Chen," she muttered to herself, grabbing her keys. She could figure this out. She just needed more overtime, maybe pick up some off-duty security work. There had to be a solution that didn't involve admitting defeat.

Four hours later, Lucy stood in line at the Korean BBQ truck, her stomach growling in protest of the granola bar she'd grabbed for breakfast. The food truck lineup was one of the better perks of Mid-Wilshire. Officer Alvarez’s wife ran the Korean place, and the portions were generous enough to make up for the questionable station coffee.

"You look like someone stole your lunch money," Tim's voice came from behind her, carrying that blend of amusement and concern.

Lucy turned to find him approaching with a purposeful stride, looking annoyingly put-together despite having spent the morning dealing with a domestic disturbance that had required three units. Tim Bradford had the supernatural ability to emerge from chaos looking like he'd just stepped out of a recruitment poster.

"Just hungry," she said, which wasn't entirely a lie.

"Uh-huh." Tim's expression suggested he wasn't buying it, but he didn't push. Instead, he fell into line behind her, close enough that she could smell his cologne, something clean and understated that probably cost more than her monthly grocery budget.

"Bradford! Chen!" John Nolan's voice carried across the parking lot as he jogged toward them, slightly out of breath. "Wait up!"

Lucy watched Nolan approach with the mixture of fondness and exasperation that had become her default reaction to him. Where Tim moved through the world with calculated precision, Nolan seemed to stumble through it with enthusiastic determination, somehow ending up exactly where he needed to be.

"Sorry," Nolan said, slightly winded. "Grey had me on the phone with insurance about the shop damage from yesterday's pursuit."

"Shop damage?" Tim raised an eyebrow. "What did you hit?"

"Technically, I didn't hit anything. The suspect hit the light pole, which then hit the shop, which then hit the fence." Nolan's defensive tone made Lucy smile despite her mood. "It's all about perspective."

"Right," Tim said dryly. "I'm sure that's exactly how Grey sees it."

They moved forward in line, and Lucy found herself half-listening to Tim and Nolan's conversation about proper pursuit protocols while her mind drifted back to her laptop screen. Maybe if she picked up two extra shifts this month, and maybe if she ate more ramen and less actual food...

"Earth to Lucy," Nolan's voice cut through her mental calculations. "You've been staring at the menu for five minutes. Pretty sure it hasn't changed since yesterday."

Lucy blinked, realizing they'd reached the front of the line and both Tim and Nolan were looking at her with concern. "Sorry, just... deciding."

She ordered her usual, bulgogi bowl with extra rice and stepped aside while Tim ordered his equally predictable grilled chicken and vegetables. Nolan, true to form, engaged in a lengthy discussion with Martinez about spice levels and sauce options that resulted in what would probably be an inedible combination.

They found a picnic table in the shade, and Lucy picked at her food while Tim and Nolan discussed the morning's calls. The bulgogi was perfect, as always, but her appetite had vanished somewhere between calculating her monthly expenses and facing the reality of her situation.

"Okay, what's going on?" Nolan set down his fork and fixed her with a direct stare that made her understand why he'd been successful in construction management. "You've been distracted all morning. You missed two radio calls, nearly walked into a street sign, and now you're treating that rice like it personally offended you."

Lucy felt heat creep up her neck. She'd thought she'd been hiding her stress better than that. "I'm fine. Just tired."

"Chen." Tim's voice was gentler than usual, with an undertone that suggested he wasn't going to let this slide. "Talk to us."

She looked between them, Nolan's worried expression and Tim's careful attention, and felt something in her chest crack. These were her friends. Jackson would have told them if he were here. Hell, Jackson would have already figured out a solution and probably talked her into accepting help without making her feel like a charity case.

"I can't afford my apartment," she said quietly, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. "Not without Jackson splitting the rent. I've been trying to make it work, but the math just... doesn't add up."

The silence that followed felt heavy. Lucy kept her eyes on her food, waiting for the pity or the well-meaning advice that would somehow make this worse.

"How long have you been trying to figure this out on your own?" Tim asked, his voice carefully neutral.

"Since..." Lucy swallowed hard. "Since a couple weeks after. I thought maybe I could pick up more overtime, but there are only so many hours in a day."

"Lucy," Nolan's voice was gentle. "Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"Because it's not your problem." The words came out sharper than she intended. "I'm an adult. I should be able to handle this."

Tim was quiet for a long moment, and when Lucy finally looked up, she found him studying her with an analytical expression as if he was working through a problem. Not the kind of problem that involved suspects or evidence, but the kind that involved people he cared about.

"What's your timeline?" he asked.

"End of the month. My lease is up, and I can't afford to renew at the same rate." Lucy managed a weak smile. "So I'm apartment hunting. There are some... interesting options in my price range."

"Define interesting," Tim said.

"Well, there's a studio in Hollywood where the bathroom door doesn't close, and a one-bedroom in Van Nuys that the listing describes as 'cozy' and 'full of character.'" Lucy pushed rice around her bowl. "I'm pretty sure 'character' is realtor speak for 'haunted.'"

Nolan snorted, then tried to cover it with a cough when Tim shot him a look.

"You know," Nolan said carefully, "there are other options. Roommates, house-sitting, subletting..."

"I've looked into roommate situations. Most of them involve living with people who think having a friend over means twelve people doing shots in the living room at 2 AM." Lucy shook her head. "I'm too old for that kind of chaos."

"Not all roommate situations are like that," Tim said quietly.

Something in his tone made Lucy look at him more closely, but his expression was unreadable. Before she could analyze it further, her radio crackled with a call, and the moment was lost in the familiar rhythm of their workday.

But as they cleaned up their lunch and headed back to their respective shops, Lucy caught Tim watching her with that same thoughtful expression from lunch. 

The rest of the shift passed in a blur of routine calls and paperwork. Lucy tried to focus on the job, but her mind kept drifting to apartment listings and budget calculations. By the time they returned to the station for the end of shift, she felt wrung out in a way that had nothing to do with the physical demands of the job.

She was tossing her duffle into her car when footsteps approached behind her. She didn't need to turn around to know it was Tim. Something about his gait was as distinctive as his voice.

"Chen."

Lucy closed her door and turned to find him standing a few feet away, hands in his pockets, looking unusually uncertain. In the fluorescent lighting of the parking garage, the exhaustion she'd been fighting all day felt more pronounced.

"If you're going to tell me everything will work out, save it," she said, aiming for light but landing somewhere closer to brittle. "I've heard that one already."

"Actually, I was going to make you an offer."

Something in his tone made her pay attention. Tim didn't make offers lightly.

"What kind of offer?"

"I have a guest room," he said, his voice carefully measured. "It's sitting empty, and you need a place to live. We could be roommates."

Lucy stared at him, certain she'd misheard. "You want me to move in with you?"

"I want to help you," Tim said simply. "And this solves both our problems. You need affordable housing, and I..." He paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. "I wouldn't mind the company."

"Tim, I can't just—"

"You can," he interrupted. "The guest room has its own bathroom, plenty of space. Kojo already likes you better than he likes most people. It makes sense."

Lucy felt something warm and dangerous unfurl in her chest at his words. The idea of not having to worry about rent, of not having to move to some sketchy studio apartment, was almost too good to believe.

"There would be rules," Tim continued, and there was something almost teasing in his voice now. "A roommate agreement. I'm not going to lie and pretend I'm easy to live with."

Despite everything, Lucy found herself smiling. "A roommate agreement? Who are you, Sheldon Cooper?"

"Funny." Tim's mouth quirked up at the corner. "But yes. Rules about common areas, cleaning schedules, overnight guests. The works."

"And if I break the rules?"

"Then we'll negotiate amendments." Tim stepped closer, his expression growing more serious. "Lucy, I know this isn't ideal. I know you'd rather figure it out on your own. But Jackson would kick my ass if I let you move into some sketchy apartment when I have a perfectly good room sitting empty."

The mention of Jackson hit her square in the chest, but instead of the sharp pain she'd been expecting, it felt more like a gentle nudge. Jackson would absolutely give her grief for being too proud to accept help from a friend.

"You've been thinking about this," she said, and it wasn't a question.

"Since the day we came back from his funeral," Tim admitted. "I know you, Lucy. I know you'd try to handle this alone rather than ask for help. But you don't have to handle everything alone."

Lucy looked at him, really looked at him, and saw something in his expression that made her breath catch. This wasn't just about helping out a colleague. This was about Tim, who guarded his personal space like a state secret, offering to share his home with her.

"Why?" she asked quietly.

Tim was quiet for a long moment, and when he spoke, his voice was softer than usual. "Because you're not just my co-worker, Lucy. You're my friend. And friends take care of each other."

The simple honesty of it undid the knot in her stomach. She'd been carrying the weight of her financial stress alone for weeks, had been prepared to move into whatever questionable housing she could afford, and here was Tim offering her exactly what she needed.

"A roommate agreement," she said finally.

"Non-negotiable."

"And Kojo gets a say in whether I stay?"

"Kojo's opinion will be taken into consideration." Tim's smile was genuine now. "Though between you and me, he's been hoping for someone who'll slip him treats when I'm not looking."

"I would never," Lucy said solemnly, then grinned. "I'd wait until you left the room."

"See? You're already thinking like a proper roommate."

Lucy felt some of the tension she'd been carrying for weeks finally start to ease. This was crazy. Moving in with Tim was probably going to complicate her life in ways she couldn't even imagine. But it was also a solution that felt right in a way her other options hadn't.

"Okay," she said. "But I want to see this roommate agreement before I commit to anything. For all I know, you have rules about proper towel folding techniques and alphabetized spice racks."

"Please," Tim scoffed. "Everyone knows spices should be organized by frequency of use, not alphabetically."

Lucy stared at him. "You're serious."

"Dead serious. See? This is why we need a roommate agreement."

Despite everything, the stress, the uncertainty, the lingering grief that coloured everything these days, Lucy found herself laughing. Really laughing, for the first time in weeks.

"Alright, Tim," she said. "Show me this roommate agreement. But I'm warning you right now, I'm not folding fitted sheets."

"Chen," Tim said, his smile widening, "we're going to need a very comprehensive agreement."

Chapter Text

Lucy drove through the familiar streets of Tim’s neighbourhood, her hands gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary. She'd been to his house before, most recently that awful night after Jackson died, when grief had made everything blurry, and Tim's couch had been the only place that felt safe. But showing up as a potential roommate felt entirely different than showing up as a friend in crisis.

The mid-size craftsman looked exactly the same as she remembered, all clean lines and carefully maintained landscaping. Tim's truck was already parked in the driveway by the time she pulled up to the curb, and she could see him waiting on the front steps with what appeared to be a folder in his hands.

A folder. Of course, he had a folder.

Lucy took a deep breath and grabbed her purse, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves in her stomach. This was just Tim, the one who had held her while she cried and never mentioned it again. Tim, who was offering her exactly the solution she needed, wrapped up in what was probably going to be the most detailed roommate agreement in human history.

"You actually brought paperwork," she said as she walked up the front path.

"I believe in being thorough," Tim replied, but there was something almost bashful in his expression as he held up the folder. "Shall we?"

He unlocked the front door and gestured for her to go first, his hand briefly touching the small of her back as she passed. Lucy stepped into the entryway with a strange sense of déjà vu, acutely aware of Tim behind her in the suddenly quiet space. The house was exactly as she remembered, with hardwood floors, clean lines, and everything in its place, but seeing it through the lens of potentially living here made her notice details she'd missed before.

Like how the entryway had a small bench that would be perfect for taking off shoes. Or how the living room was arranged to maximize natural light. Or how Kojo's toys were neatly organized in a basket by the couch, because of course, Tim had a system for dog toy storage.

"Coffee?" Tim asked, and Lucy realized she'd been standing in the middle of his living room for longer than was probably normal.

"Please."

She followed him into the kitchen, noting the gleaming counters and the spice rack that was, indeed, organized by frequency of use. Tim moved around the space with ease, and Lucy found herself watching his hands as he measured coffee grounds and filled the machine with water. There was something unexpectedly intimate about watching him in his space, seeing the careful way he lined up the coffee filters and how he knew exactly where everything belonged.

"So," she said, settling onto one of the bar stools at his kitchen island. "Tell me about this guest room."

"Right." Tim's voice was carefully neutral as he started the coffee maker. "It's across the hall from the master, second door on the left. Full bathroom attached, walk-in closet, good natural light. I had used it as a home office, so there's built-in shelving if you have books or..." He trailed off, gesturing vaguely.

"Things," Lucy supplied helpfully.

"Things," Tim agreed, and Lucy caught the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

They stood in comfortable silence while the coffee brewed. Both of them carefully avoided mentioning the last time she'd been in this kitchen. That night was a blur of grief and exhaustion, but she remembered Tim making her tea and sitting with her at this same island while she tried to process what had happened.

"Lucy," Tim said quietly, and when she looked up, she found him studying her with the same careful expression from the parking garage. "Are you sure about this? Because once we do this, it changes things between us."

The question hung in the air between them, loaded with implications Lucy wasn't sure either of them was ready to examine. She thought about her apartment, about the bills piling up on her counter, about the studio in Hollywood with the broken bathroom door.

"I'm sure," she said. "But I want to see this agreement first. I have a feeling you've put some thought into this."

Tim's expression shifted. He sheepishly replied. "I may have been... thorough."

"How thorough are we talking?"

Instead of answering, Tim retrieved the folder from the counter and set it in front of her. Lucy opened it to find a neatly typed document, complete with section headers and what appeared to be subsections.

"Bradford-Chen Cohabitation Agreement," she read aloud, then looked up at him with raised eyebrows. "Cohabitation?"

"It's a legal term," Tim said defensively.

"It's also what people call it when they're living together romantically."

Tim's ears went red. "It's... I couldn't think of a better word."

Lucy bit back a smile and returned to the document. "Section One: General Living Arrangements. Section Two: Common Area Usage. Section Three: Kitchen Protocols." She looked up again. "Kitchen protocols?"

"Keep reading."

Lucy skimmed through the first few sections, which covered everything from cleaning schedules to noise levels to guest policies. It was thorough, detailed, and exactly what she would have expected from him. But when she got to Section Four, she had to read it twice to make sure she wasn't hallucinating.

"Fitness and Wellness Schedule?" she said slowly.

"I work out every morning at 5:30," Tim said, his voice carefully neutral. "The home gym is in the garage. I thought you might want to join."

"You thought I might want to work out at 5:30 in the morning?"

"Physical fitness is important for our job performance, Boot."

Lucy raised her brow and stared at him incredulously. "Tim, are you trying to schedule my exercise routine?"

"I'm offering to share my exercise routine," Tim corrected. "There's a difference."

"Is there, though?"

Tim reached for his coffee mug, and Lucy noticed the way his jaw tightened slightly. "Fine. That section is optional."

"Optional?"

"Completely optional. You can work out whenever you want. Or not at all. It's your choice."

Lucy bit her lip to keep from laughing. Tim Bradford, control freak extraordinaire, was trying so hard to be accommodating that he was tying himself in knots.

"What about Section Five?" she asked, flipping the page. "Kojo Care and Management?"

"He's technically our dog," Tim said quickly. "I'm not asking you to take care of him. But if you wanted to help with walks or feeding, I wouldn't object."

"Tim," Lucy said gently, "Kojo loves me. I'm absolutely going to spoil him. You know that, right?"

"There are rules about treats and feeding schedules."

"Which I will completely ignore."

"Chen."

"Bradford." Lucy closed the folder and looked at him directly. "This is very thorough. And slightly terrifying. But I have some amendments."

Tim blinked. "Amendments?"

"Did you think I was just going to sign whatever you put in front of me?" Lucy pulled out her phone and opened her notes app. "First amendment: no shoes in the house."

"What?"

"I don't wear shoes in the house. Never have. It's gross and impractical, and if I'm living here, we're doing no shoes."

Tim stared at her like she'd just suggested they paint the walls neon pink. "I wear shoes in the house."

"Not anymore, you don't." Lucy started typing on her phone. "Second amendment: kitchen music rights."

"Kitchen music rights?"

"I like to cook to music. Loud music. Pop music that you're going to hate. If I'm cooking, I get to control the playlist."

"Lucy..."

"Third amendment," she continued, ignoring his slightly panicked expression, "Kojo spoiling protocols. I'm going to give him treats. I'm going to let him on the furniture. I'm going to talk to him in a ridiculous baby voice, and you're going to deal with it."

"He has a strict diet."

"Which I will supplement with appropriate treats and belly rubs."

Tim looked like he was having second thoughts about this entire arrangement. "Anything else?"

Lucy pretended to think about it. "Coffee priority system. First one up gets first coffee. No exceptions."

"I'm always up first."

"We'll see about that." Lucy smiled sweetly. "Oh, and wine nights."

"Wine nights?"

"Angela's going to come over for wine and terrible reality TV after the baby comes. It's non-negotiable."

Tim was quiet for a long moment, and Lucy wondered if she'd pushed too far. Maybe he was realizing that having a roommate meant compromising on his perfectly ordered life.

"You're serious about the no shoes thing?" he asked finally.

"Dead serious."

"And the music?"

"I own a lot of  90s and 2000 pop albums, Tim. I'm warning you now."

Tim sighed deeply like a man contemplating his own doom. "Fine. But I have one amendment to your amendments."

"Let's hear it."

"The workout schedule stays optional, but if you ever want to join me, the offer stands. And..." Tim paused, looking almost embarrassed. "If you're going to spoil Kojo, at least use the good treats. The ones from the pet store, not the grocery store garbage."

Lucy felt a seismic shift between them. "Deal. But I'm adding one more amendment."

"Of course you are."

"If either of us brings someone home for... overnight activities, we give the other person a heads up. A text, a note on the fridge, something. Common courtesy."

Tim's ears went red again, and Lucy caught him glancing at her mouth before looking away quickly. “Do you often bring people home for sleepovers ?”

Lucy giggled, “You know I don’t, but it is good to have something in place, right, to avoid an awkward or embarrassing situation?”

"Yeah, that seems reasonable."

"Good." Lucy stood up and extended her hand. "Do we have a deal, roomie?"

Tim looked at her outstretched hand, then at her face, and Lucy caught something in his expression that made her breath hitch. For just a moment, she remembered another night in his living room, when grief had made everything raw and honest, when Tim had held her so she wouldn’t fall apart.

Tim's hand engulfed hers, warm and calloused from years of training and work, and neither of them moved to let go immediately. His thumb brushed over her knuckles, and Lucy felt her pulse jump. Her mind drifted to the last time he shook her hand like this. 

Don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t do something. Not even me. 

Tim’s question pulled her from the memory. "Are we crazy? Trying to be roommates?" Tim asked quietly, his voice rougher than usual.

The question hung between them, loaded with implications that went beyond a roommate agreement. Lucy looked into his eyes and saw the same uncertainty she felt, the same awareness that this arrangement might be more complicated than either of them was ready for.

"Being practical," she said finally, though her voice came out breathier than intended.

"Right," Tim said, but he still didn't let go of her hand. "Practical."

Then Tim smiled,  a real smile, not the careful, forced one he wore at work, and finally released her hand.

"Deal," he said. "But I'm rewriting this agreement to include your amendments. We're doing this properly."

"Of course we are," Lucy said, laughing. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you."

As Tim walked her to the front door, already preoccupied, thinking about revised section headers and proper documentation, Lucy found herself looking around his house with new eyes. In a week, this would be her home too. Her space, her refuge, her place to heal and rebuild.

And Tim would be there, with his morning workouts and his ridiculous spice rack and his surprisingly soft heart hidden behind all that armour.

This was either going to be the best decision she'd ever made or the most complicated.

Probably both.

"I'll have the revised agreement ready by tomorrow," Tim said as they reached the front porch.

"Can't wait to see what you do with the wine night clause," Lucy replied.

"Lucy?"

"Yeah?"

Tim's expression grew serious. "Thank you. For letting me help you. I know this isn't exactly what you had planned."

Lucy looked at him standing in his doorway, Kojo appearing at his side like he'd been summoned, and felt that warm feeling in her chest expand.

"Tim," she said softly, "I think this is exactly what I need."

As she drove home, Lucy's phone buzzed with a text from Angela: So? How did it go? Are you moving in with Mr. Grumpy?

Lucy smiled as she typed back: Yes. And he has a roommate agreement.

Angela: Of course he does. How bad is it? Does Wesley need to review it?

Lucy: It has subsections. And I added amendments.

Angela: This is going to be hilarious. I can't wait to see how this plays out.

Lucy pulled into her apartment complex and sat in her car for a moment, looking up at the windows of the place that had been home for two years. Tomorrow, she'd start packing. Next week, she'd be living with Tim, Kojo and his perfectly organized spice rack.

Jackson would have found this absolutely hilarious. He would have made jokes about her moving in with her training officer and probably would have offered to help her mess with Tim's organized space just to see what happened.

But Jackson would also have been proud of her for accepting help when she needed it. For letting someone take care of her, even if that someone came with a laminated cleaning schedule and strong opinions about where Kojo sleeps.

Lucy's phone buzzed again, this time with a text from Tim: Forgot to mention that Kojo sleeps on the bed. Non-negotiable.

She laughed out loud in her empty car and typed back: Which bed?

The response came quickly: His bed. Obviously. What did you think I meant?

Lucy shook her head and put her phone away. This was definitely going to be interesting.

As she headed upstairs to start the overwhelming task of figuring out what to pack and what to leave behind, Lucy found herself humming. For the first time in weeks, the future felt manageable.

Even if it came with a roommate agreement that she would most definitely break.

Move In Day

Lucy stared at the document in her hands, torn between laughter and disbelief. Tim had outdone himself. What had started as a five-page roommate agreement had somehow evolved into an eight-page masterpiece of bureaucratic precision that would make the LAPD's policy manual look casual by comparison.

BRADFORD-CHEN COHABITATION AGREEMENT
Revised Edition v2.0

SECTION ONE: GENERAL LIVING ARRANGEMENTS

1.1 Housing Duration: Month-to-month arrangement with 30-day notice required for termination
1.2 Rent: $800/month, due first of each month
1.3 Utilities: Split 50/50
1.4 Security Deposit: Waived 

SECTION TWO: FOOTWEAR PROTOCOLS (formerly Common Area Usage)

2.1 No outdoor footwear permitted beyond the entryway
2.2 House slippers or socks are acceptable
2.3 Shoe storage: Designated area by front door (T. Bradford will install appropriate shelving)
2.4 Emergency exceptions: Active crime scenes, medical emergencies, or California earthquakes magnitude 6.0+

SECTION THREE: KITCHEN PROTOCOLS

3.1 Cleaning: Clean as you go, dishes washed within 4 hours of use
3.2 Spice Organization: Frequency of use (non-negotiable)
3.3 MUSIC SUBSECTION:
    3.3a When L. Chen is cooking, she has full playlist control
    3.3b Volume not to exceed reasonable levels (defined as: neighbours don't complain)
    3.3c T. Bradford reserves the right to use noise-cancelling headphones
    3.3d 90’s Pop: Grudgingly accepted as inevitable

SECTION FOUR: COFFEE PRIORITY SYSTEM

4.1 First person awake has first coffee privileges
4.2 Coffee maker must be cleaned and prepped for next use
4.3 Running out of coffee is considered a household emergency

SECTION FIVE: FITNESS AND WELLNESS SCHEDULE (Optional)

5.1 T. Bradford workout time: 0530 hours daily
5.2 L. Chen invited but not required to participate
5.3 Home gym equipment shared use
5.4 No judgement regarding workout attire or form
5.5 Motivational shouting kept to a minimum as to not disrupt the neighbours

SECTION SIX: KOJO CARE AND MANAGEMENT

6.1 Kojo is Our Dog (legally T. Bradford's, emotionally shared)
6.2 L. Chen authorized for treat distribution (high-quality treats only)
6.3 Feeding schedule maintained but belly rubs unlimited
6.4 Baby talk to Kojo: Accepted as unavoidable
6.5 Kojo sleeps on his own bed (located in T. Bradford's room)
6.6 Furniture access: Couch approved

SECTION SEVEN: SOCIAL GATHERINGS

7.1 WINE NIGHTS: L. Chen authorized for bi-weekly gatherings
    7.1a Angela Lopez welcome after impending motherhood
    7.1b Reality TV volume to respect T. Bradford's sanity
    7.1c Wine spills on furniture: L. Chen's responsibility
    7.1d T. Bradford reserves right to retreat to garage gym

SECTION EIGHT: OVERNIGHT GUEST PROTOCOL

8.1 24-hour advance notice required for overnight visitors
8.2 Communication methods: Text or refrigerator note
8.3 Mutual respect for privacy and shared spaces
8.4 Definitions: "Overnight visitor" includes but is not limited to romantic partners, out-of-town family, or friends who've had too much wine (see Section 7.1c)

ADDENDUM A: Any amendments to this agreement require mutual consent and will be documented in writing. Verbal amendments made during wine nights are not legally binding.

Signatures:

Timothy Bradford ________________

Lucy Chen ________________

Lucy finished reading and looked up to find Tim watching her anxiously from across his kitchen island, Kojo sitting at his feet like he was waiting for the verdict too.

"Communication methods?" she asked.

"I was trying to be detailed."

"You have a whole subsection about 90s Pop."

"I'm preparing myself mentally. I have a sister. I recall all too vividly hearing her belting out Backstreet Boys. I thought my ears might bleed from her screeching." 

Lucy threw her head back and laughed, her chestnut mane cascading down her back. “You’re ridiculous! It’s a good thing I have a good singing voice.”

“We’ll see,” he raised a brow in playful challenge. He’d only heard her singing under her breath in the shop; full-blown belting in the kitchen was a different story. 

"No, but seriously, this is perfect," she said, picking up the pen he'd placed next to the document. "Absolutely ridiculous, but perfect."

Tim's shoulders relaxed as she signed her name with a flourish. "Good. Because you're implementing this immediately." He gestured toward his feet, where he was still wearing his work boots. "Shoes off. Your rules."

Lucy looked down at his boots, then back at his slightly resigned expression. "You're really going to follow my no-shoes thing?"

"A deal's a deal. House rules." Tim sat down on the entryway bench and started unlacing his boots. "Besides, Kojo will probably appreciate not getting stepped on."

Lucy kicked off her sneakers and watched Tim carefully place his boots in the designated area. "I can't believe you're actually doing this."

"Getting there," Tim said, but he was smiling. "Moving truck should be here in an hour."

The moving truck arrived precisely on time, followed shortly by what appeared to be a handful of their friends. Lucy watched from Tim's front window as Nolan climbed out of his truck, followed by Tamara and then Angela, who emerged from the passenger seat with the careful movements of someone who was approximately eight months pregnant.

"Did you invite everyone?" Tim asked, appearing beside her with two cups of coffee.

"Just Nolan. Angela insisted on coming to 'supervise’. Tamara wanted to lend a hand, too," Lucy accepted the coffee gratefully. "I tried to tell her she should be resting, but..."

"But she's Angela," Tim finished.

"Exactly."

They watched Angela direct Nolan toward the truck with the authority of a field general while Tamara stood nearby, clearly amused by the whole operation.

"Chen!" Angela's voice carried across the yard. "Get out here! We're not moving your stuff without you!"

Lucy and Tim exchanged glances and headed outside, where they found Nolan standing at the back of the moving truck, looking slightly overwhelmed.

"Okay," Angela announced, clipboard in hand because of course, she had a clipboard. "I've organized everything by priority. Nolan, you and Tim handle the furniture. Tamara and Lucy can manage the boxes. I'll supervise and make sure nothing gets broken."

"What about you being eight months pregnant?" Tamara asked.

"That's exactly why I need to supervise. Someone has to make sure you people don't drop my baby’s godmother's belongings."

Lucy felt a warm flutter at the casual mention of being godmother, but before she could process it fully, Tim was already moving toward the truck.

"Let's get this done," he said, and Lucy caught the way his t-shirt stretched across his shoulders as he reached for the first box. 

Focus, Chen.

The next hour passed in a blur of coordinated chaos. Nolan proved surprisingly efficient, and Tamara kept up a running commentary that had everyone laughing. Angela maintained her supervisory position from a lawn chair Tim had thoughtfully retrieved, along with a glass of homemade lemonade, calling out directions like a drill sergeant.

"Careful with that one!" Angela shouted as Lucy carried a particularly heavy box toward the front door. "That's labelled 'bedroom essentials!'"

Lucy felt the bottom of the box give way just as she reached the threshold. Time seemed to slow as the box split open, its contents spilling across Tim's pristine entryway in a cascade of embarrassment.

Books, candles, a heating pad, some framed photos, and... other things. Things that made Lucy's face burn red as she scrambled to collect them.

"Oh, is that the rose one?" Angela asked with the casual interest of someone discussing gardening tools. "I've been thinking about getting one of those. How do you like it? Does it have multiple settings? Is it waterproof?"

Dead silence fell over the group. Lucy was frozen on her hands and knees, trying to shove everything back into what remained of the box. Tim had gone completely rigid beside her, his face a fascinating shade of red as he stared determinedly at the ceiling. Nolan made a sound like he was choking on his own tongue.

"Angela," Lucy whispered, mortified.

"What? It's a perfectly normal question. Tamara, you should probably invest in one too. Self-care is important for stress relief. I read an article that said—"

"OKAY," Nolan said loudly, his voice cracking slightly. "Maybe we should, uh, focus on the furniture? Big, heavy, non-personal furniture?"

Tim cleared his throat and bent down to help Lucy collect the scattered items, carefully not making eye contact with anything that wasn't a book or a candle. His hands brushed hers as they both reached for the same photo, and Lucy felt that familiar electricity even in the midst of her complete mortification.

"I'll just... put this in my room," Lucy mumbled, clutching the hastily repacked box to her chest.

"Good idea," Tim said, his voice slightly strangled. "I'll, uh, help Nolan with the couch."

As Lucy fled toward the stairs, she could hear Angela continuing her commentary.

"Honestly, you'd think none of you had ever seen a sex toy before. It's 2021, people. Self-care is self-care."

"Angela," Tamara's voice was full of barely contained laughter, "I think you broke them."

"Broke what? They're all adults. Tim's divorced, Lucy's single. It's healthy to—"

"COUCH," Nolan announced desperately. "BIG HEAVY COUCH THAT NEEDS MOVING RIGHT NOW."

Lucy made it to her new room and closed the door behind her, leaning against it as she tried to process what had just happened. This was not how she'd imagined her first day as Tim's roommate would go.

A soft knock interrupted her mortification.

"Lucy?" Tim's voice was careful, controlled. "You okay in there?"

Lucy opened the door to find him standing in the hallway, hands shoved deep in his pockets, still sporting a faint pink tinge to his cheeks.

"I'm going to have to move to a different state," she said.

"Nah. Give it a week. Angela will find something else to traumatize us with."

Despite everything, Lucy found herself smiling. "You're handling this very maturely."

"I'm a professional," Tim said, though his ears got pinker. "Besides, it's your room, your... essentials. None of my business."

There was something in his tone that made Lucy look at him more carefully. He was being respectful, giving her privacy, but there was also something else in his expression. An awareness that hadn't been there before.

"Tim..."

"Chen! Bradford!" Angela's voice carried up the stairs. "Stop hiding and get down here! This dresser isn't going to move itself!"

Tim's mouth quirked up in what might have been relief. "Duty calls."

"Right. Duty."

As Tim headed back down the hall, Lucy caught herself watching the way he moved, the casual strength in his stride. This arrangement was definitely going to be more complicated than either of them had anticipated.

From down the hall, she could hear Angela's voice: "Now, about the rechargeable versus the plug-in models..."

"ANGELA!" came a chorus of horrified male voices.

Lucy buried her face in her hands and laughed despite herself. Maybe Tim was right. Give it a week, and this would just be another story to laugh about.

Although she was definitely investing in stronger boxes for any future moves.

She grabbed the remnants of her dignity and headed back downstairs to help finish moving in. After all, the roommate agreement clearly stated they were in this together now.

Even if it hadn't included a subsection about surviving public embarrassment caused by oversharing pregnant friends.

Maybe they needed a revision already.

Three hours later, after the last box had been carried upstairs and Angela had finally been convinced to go home and rest, Lucy found herself alone in Tim's kitchen, unpacking her tea supplies. She'd claimed one corner of the counter for what she optimistically called her "tea station" – a collection of loose-leaf teas, an electric kettle, a bamboo tea tray, and various brewing accessories that probably looked excessive to someone who considered coffee the only acceptable morning beverage.

Tim appeared in the doorway, hair slightly dishevelled from moving furniture, watching her arrange small glass jars filled with different colored leaves.

"What is all of this?" he asked, settling onto one of the bar stools.

"Tea supplies," Lucy said, not looking up as she organized her collection. "I know it probably seems like a lot, but—"

"It's fine. I'm just... curious. You have tools for tea?"

Lucy smiled, holding up a small bamboo whisk. "This is for matcha. And this," she showed him a glass infuser, "is for loose-leaf teas. Different teas need different brewing temperatures and steeping times. It's kind of like..." She paused, searching for a comparison he'd appreciate. "Like how you organize your spice rack by frequency of use. Same concept, different application."

Tim leaned forward slightly, genuinely interested. "Show me."

Lucy felt a flutter of pleasure at his curiosity. She'd never had anyone actually want to understand her tea ritual before. "Okay, so this is a gaiwan," she said, picking up a small porcelain cup with a lid. "It's traditional Chinese tea brewing. You use it for oolong and pu-erh teas. The water temperature has to be exactly right, and you do multiple short steepings instead of one long one."

"Multiple steepings?"

"Each one brings out different flavours. It's meditative, actually. A way to slow down and be present." Lucy glanced at him. "I usually do it in the mornings before work. Helps me center myself."

Tim was quiet for a moment, watching her hands as she demonstrated the proper way to hold the gaiwan. "You could teach me sometime. If you want."

The offer surprised her. "Really? It's not exactly your speed."

"I'm willing to learn. Maybe after my workout, you could show me?" Tim paused, and Lucy caught something almost shy in his expression. "If you're up that early. Which you could be, if you joined me in the garage."

Lucy's heart raced. The idea of working out with Tim again sent an unexpected rush through her body. Memories of their training sessions as his rookie, the intensity in his voice when he pushed her harder than she thought she could go, the way he'd watch her form with that focused attention that made her feel like she was the only person in the world.

But this would be different. They weren't TO and rookie anymore. They were coworkers and roommates. The thought of Tim in workout clothes, sweaty and focused, watching her the way he used to, but without the professional distance...

"I'll consider it," she said, proud that her voice came out steady.

"Good." Tim's smile was warm, and Lucy felt that dangerous flutter again. "I should let you get settled. Long day tomorrow."

"Yeah. Good night, Tim."

"Good night, Lucy."

She watched him head toward the hallway. Had he always filled a t-shirt out like that? When she heard his bedroom door close, Lucy allowed herself a moment to process what had just happened.

Working out with Tim Bradford. Again. By choice this time.

She was either very brave or very stupid. Possibly both.

Down the hall, Tim sat on the edge of his bed, running a hand through his hair. What the hell was he doing? Inviting Lucy to work out with him, asking her to teach him about tea. These weren't the actions of someone maintaining professional boundaries with his roommate.

But the way she'd lit up when she talked about her tea ritual, the careful way she'd handled each piece like it was precious, the genuine offer to share something that was clearly important to her... Tim hadn't been able to resist.

Which was exactly the problem.

Lucy was beautiful. She'd always been beautiful, but living in the same house, seeing her in his kitchen arranging her tea things like she belonged there, watching her make his space feel like a home instead of just a house, it was doing things to his equilibrium that he wasn't prepared for.

This was supposed to be practical. A simple solution to her housing problem and his... well, his loneliness, if he was being honest. But Lucy, in his space, Lucy learning his routines, Lucy looking at him as if he were worth understanding, that was dangerous territory.

He could tell himself these feelings were just nerves about the change, about sharing his space with someone after so long alone. But he had never been good at lying to himself.

Lucy Chen was beautiful, funny, and brave, and she made his coffee taste better just by being in the same room while he drank it.

This was either going to be the best decision he'd ever made or the biggest mistake.

Probably both.

Chapter Text

Lucy had always been a light sleeper, but she'd never realized how much sound carried through Tim's house until she was living in it. The first week had been an education in his routines, the precise 5:15 AM alarm, the creak of floorboards as he moved through his morning ritual, the soft thud of weights being placed back on their rack in the garage gym.

She'd lie in bed listening to him move around, hyperaware of every sound. The shower running. Cabinet doors opening and closing. The coffee maker gurgling to life. It was domestic and intimate in a way that made her stomach flutter, especially when her traitorous mind would wander to what exactly he was doing during those sounds.

The shower, particularly, was becoming a problem.

Lucy rolled over and pressed her face into her pillow, willing herself to think about anything else. Work. Grocery lists. The fact that she needed to do laundry. Anything except the mental image of Tim Bradford. 

Naked.

Wet.

Soapy.

Just one room away.

Lucy’s hand inched under the waistband of her sleep shorts when her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Lucy grabbed it, grateful for the distraction.

Angela: How's the roommate situation? Please tell me you haven't killed each other yet.

Lucy typed back: Still alive. Tim's surprisingly easy to live with.

Angela: That's code for 'he's hot and I'm having inappropriate thoughts,' isn't it?

Lucy stared at the screen. Angela's pregnancy hormones hadn't affected her ability to read between the lines.

Lucy: It's not like that. We're just friends, roommates.

Angela: Uh-huh. Quick question - is that rose toy waterproof? Because I'm thinking about getting one, but I want to make sure it's versatile. Also, please tell me you're being discreet with it. Tim's house probably has thin walls.

Lucy buried her face in her hands. Of course, Angela would circle back to the moving day disaster.

Lucy: ANGELA. It's 6 AM.

Angela: That didn't answer my question. Also, why are you awake at 6 AM? Don't tell me you're actually considering Tim's crazy workout schedule.

Before Lucy could respond, she heard Tim's bedroom door close and his footsteps heading toward the kitchen. She glanced at the clock, 6:15 AM. He was running two minutes late today, probably because he'd had to work around her tea station on the counter.

Lucy: I have to go. We'll talk later.

Angela: We absolutely will. Give my regards to your hot roommate.

Lucy rolled her eyes, “ He’s your best friend! TTYL”

Lucy tossed her phone aside and tried to go back to sleep, but the familiar sounds of Tim starting his day were too distracting. She could hear him moving around the kitchen, probably making his protein shake and checking his phone for messages. In a few minutes, he'd head out for his walk with Kojo, and then she could get up and start her own morning routine without the awkwardness of running into him in the hallway.

Except today, apparently, the universe had other plans.

"Chen! We're riding together today. Nolan's got the flu, and Grey's shuffling people around."

At the station, Lucy looked up from her locker to find Tim standing there with two cups of coffee, looking annoyingly alert for someone who'd been awake since 5:15 AM. He was wearing his uniform with crisp precision telling the world he'd had time to properly iron everything, unlike Lucy, who had hit the snooze button three times and was running on barely five hours of sleep.

"Together?" Lucy accepted the coffee gratefully, noting that it was exactly how she liked it. Had he been paying attention during her entire rookie year. He remembered how she took her coffee. Jeeze.

"You have a problem with that, Boot ?" Tim's tone was teasing rather than challenging, but Lucy caught something in his expression that suggested he was as surprised by this development as she was.

"No problem, sir . Just..." Lucy gestured vaguely between them. "We live together, work together. People might think it's weird."

"People can think whatever they want," Tim said, but Lucy noticed the way his jaw tightened slightly. "We're professionals."

"Right. Professionals."

An hour later, Lucy began to question their professional status as they sat in their shop outside a diner, waiting for their witness to show up for an interview. The silence between them felt different than it had a week ago, heavier, more charged. Lucy kept catching herself noticing things about Tim that she'd never paid attention to before, like the way he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel when he was thinking or how he'd adjusted the passenger seat to exactly the right height for her without being asked.

"This is weird," Lucy said finally.

Tim glanced at her. "What's weird?"

"This. Us. Riding together when we woke up in the same house this morning. You knew I was out of oat milk before I did because you saw me checking the fridge. That's not normal co-worker behaviour."

"I noticed you were running low yesterday," Tim said carefully. "I picked some up."

"You picked up oat milk for me."

"I was already at the store."

"Tim." Lucy turned in her seat to face him fully. "We're becoming domestic partners. Don't you think that's... I don't know, something we should acknowledge?"

Tim was quiet for a long moment, staring out the windshield. "Are you having second thoughts about the arrangement?"

"No," Lucy said quickly, then caught herself. "I mean, it's not that. It's just... different. We know each other's routines now. I know you reorganize your sock drawer every Sunday, and you know I eat cereal for dinner twice a week. We aren’t just co-workers anymore."

"No," Tim agreed quietly. "We're not."

The admission hung between them, loaded with implications neither of them seemed ready to explore. Lucy felt heat creep up her neck as she realized what she'd just acknowledged, that their relationship had shifted into something more intimate than either of them had planned.

"For what it's worth," Tim said, his voice careful, "I like having you there. The house feels... less empty."

Lucy's breath caught. "Tim..."

"There's our witness," Tim said quickly, nodding toward a woman approaching the diner. "Let's go."

As they got out of the shop, Lucy couldn't shake the feeling that they'd just crossed some invisible line and there was no going back.

The rest of the shift passed with average calls and a mountain of paperwork, but Lucy couldn't stop thinking about their conversation. By the time they were heading back to the station together, the tension in the shop was thick enough to cut with a knife.

"Sushi for dinner?" Tim asked as they pulled into the sallyport like it was the most normal thing in the world to plan meals together.

"Sounds good," Lucy replied, then caught herself. "I mean, if you want. I can just make something for myself."

"Lucy." Tim turned off the engine and looked at her. "We live together. We can eat dinner together without it being weird."

"Right. Of course."

But by the time they both walked through the front door, it did feel weird. Both of them automatically removed their shoes in the entryway. It felt like coming home with someone, not just coming home to the same place. And when Tim ordered enough sushi for two without asking what she wanted, somehow knowing she'd want spicy salmon rolls with extra spice, it felt even more like they were a couple than roommates.

"I'm going to shower," Tim said after they'd eaten, leaving Lucy alone with the dishes and her increasingly complicated thoughts about their living situation.

She was loading the dishwasher when her phone buzzed with another text from Angela.

Angela: Seriously though, how's it going? Wesley thinks I'm overinvesting in your love life, but I'm eight months pregnant and living vicariously through other people's romantic tension.

Lucy: There's no romantic tension. We're just roommates.

Angela: Who happens to be attractive, single, and living in close quarters. Lucy, I've seen you two work together. The chemistry is obvious.

Lucy: We're professionals.

Angela: Professional at pretending you don't want to jump each other, maybe. Question: does he walk around shirtless? Because if Tim is walking around your house shirtless and you're not taking advantage of that situation, I'm staging an intervention.

Lucy stared at the text, her cheeks burning. The truth was, Tim was surprisingly modest around the house. She'd caught glimpses of him in workout clothes, but he was always fully dressed by the time she saw him in the common areas.

Lucy: He's not walking around shirtless.

Angela: Disappointing. What about seeing a little more than you should, maybe in the morning? You know, accidentally walking into the bathroom when he's—

Lucy: ANGELA. NO.

Angela: I'm just saying, you're a grown woman with needs, and you're living with a very attractive man. There's no shame in acknowledging attraction.

Lucy put her phone face down on the counter, but Angela's words echoed in her head. There was no shame in acknowledging attraction, but there was definitely danger in acting on it. Tim was her landlord, her superior officer, and her friend. Getting involved with him would complicate everything.

But as she heard the shower turn off down the hall, Lucy couldn't help wondering what Angela was right about, what it would be like to stop pretending she didn't notice how attractive Tim was, how safe she felt in his house, how domestic and right it felt to plan dinner together and share morning coffee.

Her phone buzzed again.

Angela: Also, just so you know, Wesley's getting me one of those toys we discussed. Apparently pregnancy has made me very direct about my needs. You should try being direct about yours.

Lucy groaned and headed to her room, determinedly not thinking about Angela's advice or the fact that Tim was probably getting dressed just down the hall.

Three days later, Lucy lay in bed at 5:10 AM, listening to Tim's alarm and the familiar sounds of him starting his day. She'd been thinking about Angela's texts, about their conversation in the shop, about the way Tim had looked genuinely pleased when she'd thanked him for the oat milk.

She'd also been thinking about the sounds coming from the garage gym every morning, the rhythmic clanking of weights, the occasional grunt of effort. Tim working out, alone, probably in minimal clothing, because it was just him, and there was no one to see.

Lucy sat up in bed, her heart racing. This was a terrible idea. She should go back to sleep, maintain the careful boundaries they'd established, pretend she wasn't curious about what Tim looked like when he was focused and sweaty and pushing himself to his limits.

However, the roommate agreement clearly stated that the workout schedule was optional, and she was invited to participate.

Before she could lose her nerve, Lucy got up and pulled on workout clothes, yoga pants and a fitted tank top that she told herself was practical, not chosen because it looked good on her. She grabbed a water bottle and headed toward the garage, her bare feet silent on the hardwood floors.

The garage door was open, and Lucy could hear the sounds of Tim's workout before she saw him. The sounds alone made her ache in places. When she rounded the corner, her breath caught.

Tim was doing pull-ups on a bar mounted to the ceiling, his back to her, wearing only a pair of black athletic shorts and a backward LA Dodgers hat. His shoulders and back were slick with sweat, muscles flexing with each rep, and Lucy felt her mouth go dry. This was Tim stripped down to the basics, no uniform, no badge, no authority except the authority of his physicality and comfort in his own skin.

He dropped from the bar and turned, catching sight of her in the doorway. For a moment, they both froze.

"Lucy," Tim said, slightly breathless. "You're up early."

"I thought..." Lucy struggled to find her voice, hyperaware of the way Tim's chest rose and fell, the thin sheen of sweat on his skin. "I thought I might join you. If that's okay?"

Tim's face lit up with something that looked like genuine pleasure. "Of course. I was just finishing up with pull-ups. We could do some circuit training, or—"

"Whatever you normally do," Lucy said quickly. "I don't want to change your routine."

"Alright." Tim grabbed a towel and wiped his face, and Lucy tried not to stare at the way his abs contracted with the movement. "Let's start with some warm-up stretches."

The next thirty minutes were simultaneously the best and worst decision Lucy had ever made. Tim was an excellent trainer,  patient, encouraging, and completely focused on her form and her limits. But he was also half-naked and gorgeous and occasionally had to adjust her position with his hands, and Lucy was pretty sure she was going to spontaneously combust.

"Good," Tim said, his hands on her hips as he corrected her squat form. "Feel that? That's your glutes engaging properly."

Lucy felt a lot of things, most of which had nothing to do with proper squat form.

"One more set," Tim said, stepping back, and Lucy tried to focus on the exercise instead of the way his voice had gone slightly rough or how his hands had lingered just a moment longer than necessary.

By the time they finished, Lucy was sweaty, exhausted, and more attracted to him than she'd ever been to anyone in her life. Which was definitely not the goal of a 5:30 AM workout.

"Good work," Tim said, handing her a towel. "You kept up better than I expected."

"Thanks," Lucy managed, acutely aware that they were both breathing hard and covered in sweat and standing very close together in Tim's garage.

"I usually shower after this," Tim said, then seemed to realize how that sounded. "I mean, I'm going to shower. You should... also shower. In your bathroom. Separately."

"Right. Separately." Lucy took a step back. "But after… would you like some tea? I could show you that brewing technique I mentioned."

Tim's expression softened. "I'd like that."

Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting at Tim's kitchen island, both showered and dressed, with Lucy's tea supplies arranged between them. Lucy had changed into clean clothes and pulled her damp hair into a messy bun, while Tim wore a simple t-shirt and jeans, looking more relaxed than she'd ever seen him.

"This is oolong," Lucy said, measuring tea leaves into the gaiwan. "The water needs to be exactly the right temperature,  about 185 degrees. Too hot and you'll burn the leaves, too cool and you won't extract the full flavour."

Tim watched her work with focused attention like he'd given her workout form, and Lucy felt heat creep up her neck that had nothing to do with the steam from the kettle.

"The first step is rinsing the leaves," Lucy continued, pouring hot water over the tea and immediately discarding it. "This wakes them up, prepares them for brewing."

"Like warming up before a workout," Tim said.

"Exactly." Lucy smiled, pleased by the comparison. "Now we steep for just thirty seconds. The first infusion is about awakening the flavour."

She poured the tea into two small cups, the amber liquid clear and fragrant. Tim accepted his cup, holding it carefully between his palms.

"During the tea ceremony, you're supposed to empty your mind," Lucy said softly. "Let go of the day's worries, the things you need to do. Just focus on the present moment."

Tim nodded, closing his eyes. Lucy did the same, trying to follow her own advice.

Empty your mind, she told herself. Focus on the tea, the warmth of the cup, the quiet of the morning.

But instead of emptiness, Lucy's mind filled with images from the past hour. Tim's hands on her hips, correcting her form. The way he'd smiled when she'd managed a perfect set of squats. The pride in his voice when he'd said she'd kept up better than expected.

Stop, Lucy commanded herself. Empty your mind.

But her thoughts circled back to Tim anyway. Tim, who had picked up oat milk for her without being asked. Tim, who had looked genuinely happy to see her in the garage. Tim, who was sitting across from her now, eyes closed, completely trusting her to guide him through something that was important to her.

Lucy opened her eyes and found Tim watching her, his expression unreadable.

"This is the part where you set an intention for the day," Lucy said quietly. "Something you want to focus on or achieve."

Tim nodded slowly. "What's your intention?"

Lucy looked at him, really looked at him, taking in the way the morning light caught the grey in his eyes, the relaxed set of his shoulders, the way he was holding his tea cup with care.

"Balance," she said finally, though it wasn't what she'd meant to say. "Finding balance between... different parts of my life."

"That's a good intention," Tim said softly. His eyes never left hers. "Mine is gratitude."

"For what?"

Tim paused, struggling to find the right words. "For unexpected connections," Tim said, his voice rough around the edges. "For people who surprise you when you least expect it."

Lucy's breath caught. The space between them felt charged with things neither of them was saying.

"We should..." Lucy started, then lost track of what they should do.

"Yeah," Tim agreed, though he didn't move.

They sat in silence, drinking their tea, both acutely aware that things continued to shift between them. Lucy could feel her carefully constructed boundaries crumbling and could see the same realization dawning in Tim's expression.

This was supposed to be about tea, meditation, and setting intentions for the day.

Instead, Lucy was pretty sure they'd just acknowledged that they were falling for each other, whether they meant to or not.

And from the way Tim was looking at her, he was thinking exactly the same thing.

Chapter Text

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Tim sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his phone and trying to process what had happened the other morning in his kitchen. The tea with Lucy had been... intense. The way she'd looked at him when she talked about finding balance, the charged silence between them, the moment when he'd admitted his intention was gratitude for unexpected connections.

She'd known exactly what he meant. He could see it in her eyes.

Tim ran a hand through his hair and tried to focus on getting ready for the day, but his mind kept drifting back to Lucy. Having her in his house was affecting him in ways he hadn't anticipated. It wasn't just the obvious things, though watching her work out in fitted yoga pants had definitely tested his self-control. It was the smaller moments that were getting to him.

The way she hummed while making breakfast. How she'd rearranged his living room throw pillows "for comfort and conversation flow," and somehow it was perfect. The way she talked to Kojo like he was her favourite person in the world, turning his stoic dog into a tail-wagging fool who now followed her around looking for belly rubs and treats.

But it was more than that. Lucy made his house feel like a home instead of just a place to sleep between shifts. She remembered that he liked his coffee black and his mornings quiet, but still managed to fill both with a warmth he hadn't realized he'd been missing.

His phone buzzed with a text, interrupting his thoughts.

Angela: How's domestic life going?

Tim stared at the message. He and Angela had been friends for years, but she'd been suspiciously quiet about his living situation until now. Which meant she'd been planning this ambush. But he wasn’t going to give in easily.

Tim: Fine. 

Angela: Fine? That’s it? You’re seriously not going to tell me how it is living with Lucy?

Tim: She's a good roommate.

Angela: Just a good roommate? That's interesting. Because Lucy mentioned you've been working out together.

Tim's stomach dropped. When--and more importantly, why --would Lucy have told Angela about joining his morning routine? He could only imagine what Angela had read into that information.

Tim: She asked to join. It's in our roommate agreement.

Angela: Uh-huh. And how's that going? The working out together?

Tim thought about yesterday morning. Lucy in her workout clothes, the way she'd looked at him when he'd corrected her form, the awareness that had crackled between them during the tea afterward.

Tim: It's fine.

Angela: Tim. I've known you for years. 'Fine' is what you say when something is definitely not fine.

Tim: What do you want, Lopez?

Angela: I want you to stop being an idiot. You're living with a smart, beautiful, funny woman who clearly cares about you. What exactly are you waiting for?

Tim: We work together. 

Angela: And? Seems like a lame excuse to me.

Tim: It’s complicated.

Angela: Only if you make it complicated. The question is...are you happy with the way things are now?

Tim paused, his thumb hovering over his phone. Was he happy? 

Tim: What kind of question is that?

Angela: A simple one. Are you happy living with Lucy?

The answer came without hesitation. Yes. He was happier than he'd been in months, maybe years. Coming home to Lucy's music in the kitchen, to her tea station taking up half his counter, to Kojo greeting him like he'd brought home the best possible surprise, it was the best part of his day.

Tim: Yes.

Angela: Now, back to my original question...are you happy with the way things are right now? 

Tim stared at the question...his thumb paralyzed over the buttons. What the hell did that even mean? Why did Angela insist on mucking around in his head whenever it came to Lucy? 

Another message popped up before he could think of a response. 

Angela: You know what...don’t say anything. I already know the answer. Now stop overthinking everything and do something about it.

Tim: Do something about what?

Angela: You think I haven't noticed the way you look at her? The way she looks at you? There are feelings there, Tim. And enough sexual tension to power the entire station.

Tim nearly choked on his coffee. Angela.

Angela: What? I'm just saying. Life's short! Don't waste time being scared.

Before Tim could respond, another text came through.

Angela: Also, heads up. I think I'm going into labour.

Tim's blood went cold. What? Now? Are you sure?

Angela: Pretty sure. Water just broke all over Wesley's car. He's not taking it well.

Tim: Which hospital?

Angela: Shaw Memorial. And Tim? You'd better bring Lucy too. I want you both there to meet my son.

Son? Tim typed quickly.

Angela: Surprise! Now stop texting me..

Tim: You’re the one texting ME! I’m surprised you aren’t sending me messages while you’re in stirrups with how invested you seem to be. 

Angela: Don’t tempt me. Wesley might break my phone. Now GET MOVING!

Tim was already grabbing his keys and heading toward Lucy's room before Angela's last message fully registered. He knocked on her door, his heart racing with adrenaline and worry.

"Lucy! We need to go. Angela's in labour."

"What? Now? But she's not due for another..." Lucy's muffled voice came through the door, followed by the sound of rushing water stopping. "Just give me one second!"

Before Tim could respond, the door flew open, revealing Lucy wrapped in nothing but a towel, hair dripping wet, looking panicked and beautiful and completely unprepared for Angela's early arrival.

"She's having the baby right now?" Lucy asked breathlessly.

"Her water broke in Wesley's car," Tim managed, trying very hard to keep his eyes on her face and not notice how the towel was doing very little to preserve his sanity.

Before either of them could say anything else, Kojo came barreling down the hallway, excited by the commotion and Tim's urgent tone. The dog, in his enthusiasm to greet Lucy and join whatever adventure was clearly happening, jumped up and planted his paws squarely on her stomach.

The towel didn't stand a chance.

"Oh my God!" Lucy shrieked, scrambling to catch the falling terry cloth as Kojo wagged his tail, completely oblivious to the catastrophe he'd just caused.

Tim's brain short-circuited. He got a flash of skin, smooth curves, the elegant line of her spine, a delicate tattoo he'd never known existed between her breasts, before he grabbed Kojo's collar and yanked him back, slamming Lucy's door shut in one swift motion.

Don't think about it, Tim commanded himself, but his treacherous brain was already cataloguing details. The way her skin looked like silk. That tattoo. How perfect...

"Sorry! Damnit, Kojo! Down!" Tim's voice was muffled through the door, slightly strangled. "Lucy, I'm so sorry. He gets excited when people are rushing around."

On the other side of the door, Lucy was pressing her back against it, clutching the towel and trying to catch her breath. Oh God, he saw everything. Everything. Her face burned with mortification. He saw all of my tattoos. He saw... everything else.

"It's fine, it's fine," Lucy's breathless voice came through the door, though nothing about this felt fine. "Just... stay out there! Don't come in!"

"I'm not!" Tim said, leaning his forehead against the door and trying to erase the image seared into memory. . "I'm right here. With Kojo. Who is now in timeout." He turned to glare at his canine best friend. 

"Okay, okay." Lucy's voice was slightly hysterical as she pushed away from the door. 

Focus. Angela's having a baby. That's what matters. Not the fact that Tim just saw you naked. Not the way he looked at you for that split second before he shut the door.  

"Just give me two minutes. Two minutes to throw on clothes, and we can go."

"Right. Angela. Hospital. Baby," Tim said weakly, still staring at the closed door like it might spontaneously combust. Think about Angela. Think about anything except how Lucy's skin looked in the morning light. That tattoo that you want to trace with your...

From behind the door, Tim could hear the sounds of Lucy scrambling for clothes. Dresser drawers slamming, the rustle of fabric, muttered cursing that would have made their fellow officers proud.

Lucy was frantically pulling on whatever clothes she could find, her hands shaking slightly. But underneath the mortification was something else, something that made her stomach flutter. The way he looked at me. Just for that second. Like...

"Okay," Lucy announced breathlessly, cutting off that dangerous train of thought. "Decent. You can turn around now... I mean, you can stop facing the door now."

Tim stepped back as the door opened to reveal Lucy in jeans and a hastily pulled on sweater, her hair still damp and her cheeks flushed bright red. She looked mortified and beautiful, and Tim had to physically stop himself from staring at her. Don't think about what's under that sweater. Don't think about her tattoo. Don't think about how perfect...

"We should go," he said, his voice still not quite normal.

"Yes. Hospital. Angela. Baby." Lucy grabbed her purse, pointedly not making eye contact. 

Pretend it never happened. Pretend you can't feel his eyes on you. Pretend you don't want him to look at you like that again.  

"This never happened."

"What never happened?" Tim asked, attempting levity, but his voice came out slightly strangled.

"Exactly," Lucy said firmly, shooting him a quick glance that suggested she was just as affected by what had just happened as he was.

As they headed toward the garage, Kojo trotting along behind them with his tail wagging obliviously, Tim caught Lucy smoothing down her still damp hair and tried very hard not to think about what he'd just seen. 

This was going to be a very long drive to the hospital.

The drive to the hospital was a blur of traffic, and Lucy was alternating between excitement and panic. Tim found himself stealing glances at her as he drove, noting the way she bounced slightly in her seat, the way she kept checking her phone for updates from Wesley.

"Do you think she's okay?" Lucy asked for the third time in ten minutes.

"She's Angela," Tim said. "She's probably bossing around the medical staff, giving them proper birthing instructions."

Lucy laughed, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "You're right. Poor Wesley."

They didn’t have too long of a wait in the maternity waiting area before Wesley appeared, looking like he was about to pass out, clutching a cup of coffee like a lifeline.

"How is she?" Lucy asked immediately, going to his side.

"Good. Tired, but good. The baby..." Wesley's face broke into a grin that was equal parts exhausted and elated. "He's perfect, Lucy. Absolutely perfect."

"Can we see them?" Tim asked.

"Angela's been asking for you both. She stayed home until the very last minute. Things moved fast." Wesley stood up. "Come on."

As they followed Wesley down the hallway, Tim found himself watching Lucy's face. The excitement, the joy, the love already evident in her expression, it hit him harder than he'd expected. This was Lucy at her most open, most vulnerable, and Tim had never found her more beautiful.

Wesley knocked softly on a door. "Ange? You have visitors."

"Send them in!" Angela's voice came from inside, tired but happy.

Tim let Lucy go first, hanging back as she rushed to Angela's bedside. Angela was propped up against pillows, looking exhausted but radiant, holding a tiny bundle wrapped in a blue blanket.

"Lucy," Angela said softly, "I want you to meet someone very special."

Lucy perched carefully on the edge of the bed, her hands shaking slightly as Angela placed the baby in her arms. "Oh, Angela. He's beautiful."

"He is, isn't he?" Angela's voice was soft with wonder. "Guys, I'd like you to meet Jackson Lopez-Evers."

Tim felt like he'd been punched in the chest. Lucy's sharp intake of breath told him she was feeling the same thing.

"You named him Jackson?" Lucy's voice was barely a whisper.

"We talked about it before..." Angela's eyes filled with tears. "He said if we ever had a boy, we should name him after the bravest person we knew.”

Tim watched Lucy process Angela's words, saw the moment when grief and joy collided on her face. The baby in her arms, so small and perfect and named after their lost friend, seemed to represent everything they'd lost and everything they hoped to find again.

"And Lucy," Angela continued, reaching out to squeeze her hand, "Wesley and I were hoping you'd officially do us the honour of being Jackson's godmother."

Lucy's sob was half laugh, half cry. "Of course. Yes. Of course I will."

Tim found himself stepping closer, drawn by the picture they made. Lucy holding tiny Jackson, Angela watching with pure love, Wesley beaming from the doorway. It was a moment of perfect joy tinged with bittersweet memory.

"What about Uncle Tim?" Angela asked, looking up at him with a knowing smile. "Think you can handle being this little guy's godfather?"

Tim looked down at the baby, so small and perfect and named after one of the best men he'd ever known. "I'd be honoured."

Lucy looked up at him then, and Tim saw his own emotions reflected in her eyes: love, loss, hope, and something deeper. For a moment, standing there beside her as she held Jackson, Tim could almost imagine a different future. One where moments like this weren't borrowed from friends but created together.

"Here," Lucy said softly, extending the baby toward him. "Say hello to Jackson."

Tim had held babies before, but taking Jackson from Lucy felt different somehow. More significant. As if he were accepting more than just a sleeping infant.

"Hey there, little man," Tim said quietly, his voice rough. "Your namesake would be so proud."

Lucy's hand came to rest on his arm, and Tim looked down to find her watching him with an expression that made his heart race. Her touch was warm, grounding, and Tim had the crazy thought that this felt right, standing here with Lucy, holding a baby named after their friend, feeling like they were part of something bigger than themselves.

"He's perfect," Lucy whispered.

"Yeah," Tim agreed, though he wasn't entirely sure he was talking about the baby anymore.

They stayed until visiting hours ended, taking turns holding Jackson and listening to Angela and Wesley share their birth story. By the time they left the hospital, both Tim and Lucy were emotionally wrung out but quietly elated.

"That was incredible," Lucy said as they walked to Tim's truck, her voice soft with wonder.

"Angela looked happy," Tim agreed.

"And little Jackson..." Lucy trailed off, seemingly unable to find words for what they'd experienced.

After a few quiet moments, Tim cleared his throat.” I knew you and Angela grew closer after Jackson…”Tim paused, “But I don’t know if I realized you were that close. I was just as surprised as you when she asked you to be the Godmother.” 

Lucy’s face lit up, but Tim could tell she was torn between the grief of losing Jackson and the joy of the day. “After the funeral, we ended up spending a lot of time together. She helped me go through his things for his family, and we shared stories.” Lucy took a steadying breath. “She used to joke about the fact that our class of rookies was different than any other class you guys had." 

Tim looked thoughtful, "That's true...you all have been there for some of the biggest moments. And we've all gone through more in that year than I think we have with any rookie."

“Angela was really proud of him. He meant a lot to her, especially being her last rookie before becoming a detective. Jackson was special. We found each other when we lost him. There is meaning in that. At least Angela and I choose to believe that.” 

Tim nodded, hearing the emotion Lucy was struggling to conceal. “It has meaning,” he echoed, reassuring her. 

"We're like a little family.”

Tim scoffs, but doesn’t deny it. Lucy smiles wistfully, knowing it’s becoming more true every day. 

They drove in comfortable silence for most of the way home after that, both processing the magnitude of the day. It wasn't until they were stopped at a red light that Lucy spoke again.

"Jackson would have loved that baby," she said quietly. "He would have been the most obnoxious honorary uncle in history."

Tim smiled, picturing their friend spoiling Angela's son rotten. "He would have taught him penal codes before he could walk."

"And probably would have tried to get him into the academy at age five." Lucy's laugh was watery but genuine. "God, I miss him."

"Me too," Tim said softly.

The light turned green, but Tim found himself looking at Lucy instead of driving. Really looking at her. The tears on her cheeks, the soft smile on her lips, the way the streetlights caught the gold in her dark hair.

"Lucy," he said, his voice rougher than he intended.

"Yeah?"

Tim felt the weight of everything he wanted to say pressing against his chest. How beautiful she'd looked holding Jackson. How watching her today had made him realize that his feelings for her went deeper than he'd ever admitted. How living with her had become the best part of his life.

A car honked behind them, jolting Tim back to reality. He cleared his throat and started driving.

"Nothing. Just... today was good."

Lucy nodded, settling back in her seat. "It was. I'm glad we were there."

"Me too."

As they pulled into his driveway, Tim caught Lucy looking at him with that same unreadable expression from the hospital. Like she was trying to figure something out.

"Tim," she said as they walked to the front door.

"Yeah?"

Lucy stopped, keys in her hand, and turned to face him fully. In the porch light, her eyes looked luminous, still bright with emotion from the hospital.

"Thank you. For today, for driving me there, for... all of this." She gestured between them, encompassing the house, their arrangement, everything. "I know this probably isn't what you signed up for when you offered me a room."

Tim stepped closer, close enough to see the myriad of colours swirling in her chestnut eyes, close enough to smell her shampoo and the faint scent of hospital antiseptic that clung to both of them.

"Lucy," he said quietly, "this is exactly what I signed up for."

She looked up at him, and Tim saw the exact moment when something shifted in her expression. The careful politeness they'd been maintaining melted away, replaced by something warmer, more honest, more dangerous.

"Tim..."

But before either of them could say whatever was hovering between them, Kojo started barking from inside the house, apparently wondering where his humans had gone. The moment broke, and they both stepped back, the spell interrupted but not forgotten.

"We should..." Lucy gestured toward the door.

"Yeah," Tim agreed, though part of him wanted to stay on this porch forever, suspended in the possibility of whatever had almost happened between them.

They went inside, both acutely aware that something had shifted. That watching Angela with her baby, being part of something so joyful and life-affirming, had changed the dynamic of whatever careful dance they'd been doing around each other.

As Lucy headed toward her room, she paused in the hallway and looked back at him.

"Good night, Tim."

"Good night, Lucy."

But as Tim watched her disappear into her room, he knew that nothing about this arrangement was simple anymore. Today had shown him exactly what he wanted, a future with Lucy, a family, something real and lasting and worth fighting for.

The question was whether he was brave enough to reach for it.

Chapter Text

Three Days After the Hospital

Tim was reading reports in his living room when he heard it. A soft, melodic humming drifted from the kitchen, followed by Lucy's voice singing along to something playing on her phone. He'd never heard her sing before, not really, just the occasional under-the-breath humming in the shop or during paperwork. But this was different. This was Lucy, completely unselfconscious, her voice clear and surprisingly rich as she worked her way through what sounded like an old Norah Jones song.

Tim found himself closing his laptop and moving toward the kitchen, drawn by the sound. He paused in the doorway, taking in the scene: Lucy at the stove, wearing shorts and one of his old LAPD Academy t-shirts that she'd apparently claimed as sleepwear, her hair twisted up in a messy bun with a chopstick holding it in place. She was stirring something that smelled incredible while swaying slightly to the music.

" Don't know why I didn't come... " she sang softly, wholly absorbed in her cooking.

Tim leaned against the doorframe, content to watch. This Lucy was such a contrast to the one who danced and shouted Cyndi Lauper at the top of her lungs. That he was used to. There was something deeply intimate about this moment, Lucy in his kitchen, wearing his shirt, completely at home in a way that made his chest tight with an emotion he was still trying to work through.

"You have a beautiful voice," he said quietly.

Lucy startled, nearly dropping her wooden spoon. "Oh God, how long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough." Tim stepped into the kitchen, noting the flush creeping up her neck. "I didn't know you could sing like that."

"I can't, really. I just... I enjoy singing while I cook. It relaxes me." Lucy turned back to the stove, suddenly self-conscious. "Sorry if I was being too loud."

"Don't apologize. I liked it." Tim moved closer, peering over her shoulder at whatever she was making. "What's all this?"

"Congee. My grandmother's recipe." Lucy glanced at him. "I know it's not exactly your usual dinner, but I was craving comfort food after yesterday, and I thought maybe you'd want to try it?"

The fact that she'd made something meaningful to her, something connected to her family, and wanted to share it with him, hit Tim harder than it should have. "I'd love to try it."

Lucy's smile was radiant. "Good. It's almost ready. Fair warning, though, it's basically rice porridge with chicken and ginger. Not exactly gourmet."

"Sounds perfect."

As Lucy ladled the congee into bowls, Tim found himself studying her movements, the careful way she tasted and adjusted seasoning, the little crease that appeared between her eyebrows when she was concentrating. When she handed him a bowl, their fingers brushed, and Tim caught the way her breath hitched slightly at the contact.

They ate at the kitchen island, Lucy watching nervously as Tim took his first bite.

"Well?" she asked.

The congee was simple but deeply flavorful, warm and comforting in a way that reminded Tim of being cared for. "It's incredible, Lucy. Thank you for sharing this with me."

"My grandmother always said food tastes better when you share it with people you care about." Lucy paused, seeming to realize what she'd just implied. "I mean—"

"I care about you too," Tim said quietly, and the admission hung between them, loaded with meaning..

They finished eating in comfortable silence, and when Lucy started to clean up, Tim moved to help without being asked. They moved around each other in the small space, bumping shoulders, reaching around each other for dishes, the kind of unconscious choreography that spoke of growing familiarity.

"Lucy," Tim said as she rinsed the last bowl.

"Yeah?"

"Keep singing when you cook. I like having music in the house."

Lucy's smile was soft, pleased. "Okay. But don't blame me if you get sick of my terrible singing voice."

"Never," Tim said, meaning it.

One Week Later

"Okay, so Sunday meal prep," Lucy announced, emerging from her room in workout clothes and finding Tim already in the kitchen with his coffee. "I've been thinking about this, and I have some ideas."

Tim looked up from his phone, taking in her fitted jeans and tank top, as well as the determined expression on her face. "Ideas?"

"We've been eating a lot of takeout, which is fine, but I thought maybe we could prep some meals together ? Make the week easier?" Lucy moved to the cabinet where they kept the tea supplies. "Plus, I make a mean chicken teriyaki, and you mentioned you meal prep but hate the shopping part."

"You want to grocery shop together?"

"I want to make this easier for both of us. We're roommates, we both have to eat, and honestly? I think you could use some more fresh vegetables in your diet that didn't come from a salad kit."

Tim found himself smiling. "What makes you think I don't eat vegetables?"

"The fact that your freezer contains exactly four items: protein shakes, chicken breast, frozen broccoli, and ice cream." Lucy grinned. "Don't think I haven't noticed."

"Ice cream is important."

"The ice cream can stay. Everything else needs work."

An hour later, they were walking through the grocery store with a cart that Lucy had somehow filled with fresh produce, spices Tim had never heard of, and what appeared to be enough ingredients to feed a small army.

"Lucy, we're only cooking for two people," Tim said, watching her add a third type of bell pepper to their cart.

"Meal prep is about variety, Tim. If you eat the same thing every day, you'll get bored and end up ordering takeout again." She held up two different types of rice. "Brown or jasmine?"

"I don't know. What's the difference?"

Lucy launched into an explanation of rice varieties that was far more detailed than Tim expected, but he found himself genuinely interested. Not so much in the rice, but in the way Lucy's face lit up when she talked about food, the way she gestured with her hands, the little laugh she gave when she realized she was probably telling him more than he wanted to know.

"Sorry," she said, putting both types of rice in the cart. "I get a little intense about cooking."

"I like it," Tim said. "I like that you're passionate about things."

The comment made Lucy pause, something shifting in her expression as she looked at him. "Thank you. That... that means a lot."

Back at home, they spread their groceries across Tim's kitchen island, and Lucy took charge, assigning tasks to Tim while she organized their cooking strategy. They worked together for the next three hours, Lucy teaching Tim the proper way to julienne vegetables while he showed her his precisely portioned protein containers.

"You labelled them," Lucy said, examining Tim's meal prep containers with their neat handwritten labels indicating contents and dates.

"Organization prevents food waste."

"It's adorable." Lucy bumped his shoulder with hers. "Very you."

They fell into an easy rhythm, Lucy chopping and seasoning, Tim measuring and organizing, both of them moving around the kitchen in a dance that was becoming increasingly familiar. When Lucy reached for something in the upper cabinet, Tim appeared behind her to help, his chest nearly brushing her back as he handed her the spice jar.

"Thanks," Lucy said, her voice slightly breathless.

"No problem."

But Tim didn't step away immediately, and Lucy didn't move from where she was standing. For a moment, they were frozen in place, Tim's hand still extended, Lucy turned slightly toward him, the space between them charged.

"We should..." Lucy started.

"Yeah," Tim agreed, finally stepping back.

By the time they finished, they had enough prepared meals to last the week, and the kitchen smelled incredible. Tim found himself thinking that Sunday afternoons had never been this enjoyable before.

"Good teamwork," Lucy said, surveying their work with satisfaction.

"Yeah, teamwork."

As they cleaned up together, Tim caught himself listening to Lucy sing softly to herself again and realized that somewhere in the past week, his house had started feeling like a home.

Two Weeks Later

"I need to go for a run," Lucy announced, bouncing slightly on her toes in the living room where Tim was reading. "Want to come with me?"

Tim looked up from his book. "Where are you going?"

"I was thinking of the beach. The Santa Monica path is great for running, and it's been forever since I've seen the ocean."

Tim's expression immediately shifted. "The beach."

"Yes, the beach. You know, sand, waves, fresh ocean air?" Lucy grinned at his obvious reluctance. "Come on, it'll be fun. When's the last time you did something just for the hell of it?"

"I run. Regularly. On solid ground. With proper pavement."

"Tim Bradford, are you afraid of a little sand?"

It was a challenge, and they both knew it. Tim set down his book and looked at Lucy, taking in her running gear, the hopeful expression on her face, the way she was clearly trying not to laugh at his ridiculous beach aversion.

"Fine," he said. "But when I complain the entire time, don't say I didn't warn you."

Lucy's victory smile was blinding. "Deal. Meet you at the truck in ten minutes."

The drive to Santa Monica was filled with Tim's commentary on beach running ("Sand is an unstable surface, I ran on it for eighteen months overseas," "The salt air is going to make everything sticky," "There's going to be tourists everywhere"), but Lucy noticed he'd changed into his good running gear and had brought water bottles for both of them.

The beach was beautiful. She’d picked a perfect California afternoon with clear skies and a gentle breeze coming off the water. Lucy stretched enthusiastically while Tim surveyed the scene, preparing himself for a run he’d hate, but also enjoy because it would be beside Lucy.

"It's not that bad," Lucy said, noting his skeptical look.

They started at an easy pace, joining the stream of runners, cyclists, and walkers on the path that ran parallel to the beach. Lucy kept stealing glances at Tim, waiting for the complaints to start, but he seemed determined to suffer in silence.

About a mile in, Tim surprised her by pulling off his shirt.

Lucy's stride faltered as she took in the sight of Tim, shirtless, in the California sunshine. She'd seen him shirtless during their morning workouts, but this was different. She could look at him out here in the sun without him noticing. His shoulders were broader than she'd realized, his chest defined in a way that made her want to explore the landscape with her fingertips and maybe her tongue. There was a scar along his ribs that she wanted to ask about, and when he raised his arm to wipe sweat from his forehead, she caught herself staring at the line of his bicep.

"You okay?" Tim asked, noticing her suddenly erratic pace.

"Fine," Lucy managed, forcing herself to look straight ahead. "Just... adjusting my stride."

They continued running, but Lucy found her attention constantly drifting to Tim beside her. The way his muscles moved as he ran, the controlled power in his movements, and the fact that he was keeping pace with her easily despite his earlier complaints about the beach.

When they stopped at a water fountain about halfway through their route, Lucy used the break to catch her breath and try to regain her composure.

"So," she said, accepting the water bottle Tim handed her. "Admit it. This isn't so bad."

Tim looked around, at the ocean stretching to the horizon, the volleyball happening on the sand, and the general California beach scene he usually avoided. Then his gaze drank her in, standing there, breathing heavily, sweat glistening off her skin. "It's tolerable."

"High praise from you."

"Don't let it go to your head, Chen."

But Tim was smiling, and Lucy clocked him glancing appreciatively at the ocean view. More importantly, she caught him glancing at her, his gaze lingering on her face, her hair that had escaped from its ponytail, the way her running clothes clung to her curves.

"Come on," she said, starting to jog again. "Race you to the pier."

Tim's competitive instincts kicked in immediately. "You're on."

They took off at a sprint, Lucy laughing as Tim immediately pulled ahead with his longer stride. But she was faster than he expected, and by the time they reached the pier, they were neck and neck, both breathing hard and grinning.

"Not bad for someone who hates it out here," Lucy panted.

"I never said I hated it," Tim corrected, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "I said sand makes you unsteady."

"And?"

Tim looked around again, at Lucy, flushed and beautiful beside him, at the sunset starting to paint the sky in brilliant colours, at the scene he'd been avoiding for years. "And maybe unsteady isn't always bad."

The drive home was quieter, as both of them were tired from the run but energized by whatever was quietly happening between them. Lucy kept sneaking glances at Tim, hyperaware of the way his hair was still damp with sweat, the casual way he drove with one hand on the wheel.

"Thanks for coming with me," she said as they pulled into the driveway. "I know it’s not  your thing."

"Thanks for making me go," Tim replied. "It was... good to get out of my comfort zone."

As they walked toward the front door, Lucy bumped his shoulder with hers. "Look at you, Bradford. Becoming spontaneous."

"Don't get used to it."

But Tim was smiling, his eyes lingering on her as she unlocked the front door. There was something different in his expression, something warmer and more aware than she'd seen before.

Inside, they went through their post-workout routine, Tim heading for the garage to put away their water bottles, while Lucy went to get towels from the linen closet. But when they met in the hallway, both slightly out of breath and still flushed from the run, the air between them felt charged in a way it never had before.

"I should shower," Lucy said, her voice coming out softer than intended.

"Yeah. Me too."

But neither of them moved. They stood there in the hallway, close enough that Lucy could feel his breath on her cheek, could smell the clean scent of his sweat mixed with the ocean air still clinging to both of them.

"Lucy," Tim said quietly, and something in his voice made her pulse jump.

"Yeah?"

Tim reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her cheek. She’s so damn beautiful.  

They remained suspended in the loaded silence.  Lucy felt her breath catch, and she leaned slightly into his touch.

"Tim..."

But before either of them could say anything else, Tim's phone rang loudly from the kitchen, breaking the spell. They stepped apart quickly, both breathing harder than the moment warranted.

"I should..." Tim gestured toward his phone.

"Right. And I should shower."

As Lucy disappeared into her room, Tim walked down the hallway, processing what had just happened. Something had shifted today, maybe it was the beach, maybe it was seeing Lucy in a different environment, maybe it was the simple intimacy of spending an entire afternoon together.

But as he finally went to answer his phone, Tim realized that Lucy was becoming dangerous to his peace of mind in ways that had nothing to do with being roommates and everything to do with the way she'd looked at him when he'd called her beautiful.

And the fact that he'd meant every word.

Chapter Text

Lucy lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, hyperaware of every sound coming from Tim's room. It was 1:55 AM, and she'd been awake for the past hour listening to him move around. A creak here, the rustle of sheets there, the soft thud of feet hitting the floor. Was he having trouble sleeping, too? Was he thinking about her the way she was thinking about him?

The thought sent a dangerous flutter through her stomach, and Lucy pressed her face into her pillow with a frustrated groan. This was exactly the problem. Since baby Jackson was born, getting settled in, all of these moments simmering with tension continued to happen. She just couldn’t stop thinking about him. How he’d linger next to her in the kitchen. The charged moment when they came back from the hospital, on the porch when they’d almost…what? Said something? Done something? How he’d looked at her when they went running. Stopping in the hallway and getting lost in one another’s gaze.

She didn't know, and that was the problem.

Everything felt different now. Their morning workouts were becoming an exercise in torture, with Lucy hyperaware of every casual touch, every moment Tim's hands lingered a second too long. The tea afterward was worse. Sitting across from him in the quiet morning light, sharing these intimate moments of silence that felt loaded with everything they weren't saying.

And the worst part? Lucy was pretty sure Tim felt it too. She'd caught him looking at her differently, seen the way his eyes lingered when he thought she wasn't paying attention. Last night while they enjoyed some takeout, their hands had brushed reaching for the hot sauce, and the electricity that shot through her had been so intense she'd nearly knocked over her water glass.

This was a disaster. Tim was her boss, her landlord, her former TO, her friend. Getting involved with him would complicate everything, work, their living situation, and their entire group of friends. What happened when things inevitably went south? Where would she live? How awkward would work become?

Lucy rolled over and pulled her pillow over her head. She needed to get a grip. This obsession with Tim had to stop before she did something stupid, like act on it.

The universe, as it turned out, had a twisted sense of timing.

Lucy sat at a desk, finishing up paperwork, when the new ADA, Chris Sanford, approached with a coffee in each hand and that easy smile that had made half the female officers at Mid-Wilshire develop sudden interests in the intricacies of the legal dealings of an up-and-coming ADA.

"Officer Chen," he said, setting one of the cups in front of her. "Thought you might need this. Heard you had a long night with that domestic disturbance call."

Lucy looked up, surprised. Chris Sanford was objectively attractive, with dark hair, bright eyes, and expensive suits that fit perfectly. He was also smart, successful, and even though they’d come to blows a few times over arrests, he’d never once made her feel like she needed to prove herself. In other words, he was exactly the kind of man she should be interested in.

"Thank you," she said, accepting the coffee. "That's,” she paused, “That’s really thoughtful."

"Just looking out for one of LAPD's finest." Chris perched on the edge of her desk, and Lucy caught a whiff of his cologne, something sophisticated and undoubtedly expensive. His smile turned more playful, more confident. "Actually, I was wondering if you might be interested in dinner sometime. I can think of a few options. We could go fancy, or we could keep it fun. Your call."

Lucy's brain short-circuited. He was asking her out. Chris Sanford, who was attractive and successful and definitely not Tim, who made her question every life choice she'd made in the past month.

"Fun," she said quickly, before she could second-guess herself. "Definitely fun."

Chris's grin widened. "Perfect. You ever been to Pink's?"

Lucy's face lit up despite her inner turmoil. "Pink's? I love Pink's! Their chilli dogs are legendary."

"A woman after my own heart," Chris said, his voice carrying a smooth confidence that probably worked on most women. "Saturday night? I can pick you up at seven."

The memory of the hand-brush incident flashed through her mind, followed immediately by the panic that had kept her awake for hours. This was perfect. A date with Chris would prove to herself that her obsession with Tim was merely a matter of proximity and convenience.

"Saturday works," Lucy said, proud that her voice came out steady. "I'll text you my address."

"Excellent. I'm looking forward to it." Chris squeezed her shoulder gently before walking away, and Lucy watched him go, trying to summon some excitement about their upcoming date.

Instead, all she felt was a weird hollowness in her stomach and the uncomfortable sensation that someone was watching her. Glancing across the bullpen, she spotted Angela leaving Tim’s desk, as he returned focus on paperwork, but something about his posture suggested he'd overheard their entire conversation.

At the end of shift, Tim sat in his truck in the station parking lot pondering the idea that Lucy was going on a date, when suddenly a loud knocking on his window startled him. 

“What the hell Lopez?” 

Angela motioned for him to roll down the window. Rolling his eyes, Tim quickly complied. 

“Maybe I’m wrong about everything. Lucy’s going on a date!” Angela said, the words bursting forward as though she’d been barely hanging on to them.

Tim gave Angela a knowing look. “Yes, I know. With that ADA Sanford. I heard him ask her. He’s taking her to Pink’s, of all places. 

“And?” 

Tim stared at Angela blankly. “And what?”

“This is where you freak out,” Angela said, slapping her hand down on his forearm that was resting on the door. 

“It’s one date, Angela, calm down.” 

Angela huffed, “I am calm, but why are you?”

Tim turned in his seat more fully to meet Angela’s gaze. “Because, this just proves that whatever you thought was between Lucy and me just doesn’t exist.

Tim knew he was deflecting, but the last thing he needed as Angela down his neck about this. He was having a hard enough time with it on his own. 

“Or,” Angela responded, tilting her head to the side, “it proves that Lucy is just as scared as you and is doing something stupid to avoid dealing with her feelings.” 

“I think you are reaching, Lopez.” 

“I think you are in denial, Bradford. When’s the date again?”

Saturday. He knew it was Saturday. But Angela didn’t need to know he cared about that. 

“I don’t know, I can’t remember,” Tim said, knowing Angela saw right through him the moment the words left his mouth. 

Angela bounced from foot to foot on the pavement. “Right, so you are totally fine with the thought of her getting ready for another man. Letting him take her out, maybe kiss her good night–”

“Angela.” Tim bit out. 

“Just trying to paint the picture for you. So you are fine with it?” 

Tim looked down at his hands, imagining Lucy getting ready for her date, laughing at Chris's undoubtedly perfect jokes, and letting him touch her while they sat at a picnic table outside Pink's. The mental image made him want to punch something.

Angela decided his silence was answer enough and pushed forward with her plan to make her favourite idiot finally acknowledge his feelings. 

“So, since you are fine, I have someone I want you to meet. Ashley McGrady. You remember Jerry McGrady, who managed our kit room? His daughter just moved back to LA. She's a lifeguard, gorgeous, and understands the job. Saturday night work for you?

Tim stared back at Angela. Part of him wanted to refuse on principle, but maybe Angela was right. Maybe he needed perspective, needed to remember that there were other women in the world besides his roommate.

Tim pursed his lips and nodded, “Fine, set it up.”

Tim knew this was the only way to get Lucy off his mind. 

A date. 

Just one date and he’d prove to himself that everything with Lucy was just in his head. 

Angela had to admit she thought getting him on the date would have been near impossible.  “Really? Just like that?” She couldn’t help herself. 

“Why not?”

Angela sighed, feeling oddly both defeated and victorious in her efforts. “That wasn’t exactly the point I was making, but okay, I’ll give Ashley your number.” 

Tim tapped his closed fist on the door. “Well, if that’s it, Angela, I’m going to head home. It was a long day.” 

Angela gave him a half smile. “Yep, for now. Say hi to Lucy for me.” Angela waved her hand and turned to walk to her car. 

Tim started his truck. He needed to get home, needed to hit the weights in his garage until his muscles screamed and he stopped thinking about Lucy laughing at another man's jokes.

Lucy pulled into the driveway at 8:47 PM, noting that Tim's truck was already there but the house was mostly dark. She kicked off her shoes in the entryway, calling out a quiet "I'm home!" but got no response. The living room was empty, kitchen clean, no sign of Tim anywhere.

Then she heard it. The rhythmic thud of fists against leather and the occasional grunt of exertion coming from the garage. Of course. Tim worked out his frustrations the same way other people ate ice cream or binged Netflix.

Lucy told herself she was just checking to see if he was okay as she padded quietly toward the garage. The door was cracked open, and she could see the glow of the overhead lights spilling onto the hallway. She paused at the threshold, telling herself she should announce her presence, should give him privacy.

Instead, she found herself frozen in the doorway.

Tim was attacking the heavy bag with controlled fury, his back to her, wearing nothing but black athletic shorts and noise-cancelling headphones. His shoulders and back were slick with sweat, muscles coiling and releasing with each devastating combination, and Lucy felt her mouth go completely dry. This wasn't the measured, precise Tim from their morning workouts. This was raw, aggressive, like he was trying to beat something out of his system.

He pivoted and threw a vicious right hook that made the bag swing and creak wildly, his chest heaving with exertion. Even from behind, she could see the tension radiating through his entire body, the way he loaded power into each strike, the controlled violence that was devastatingly masculine.

God, he's beautiful.  

Lucy thought, then immediately felt guilty for watching him without his knowledge. But she couldn't seem to make herself move. The way his chest rose and fell with exertion, the flex of his shoulders as he threw combinations, the thin line of sweat trailing down his spine. It was disrupting her equilibrium.

This was exactly why she'd said yes to Chris. This dangerous, consuming attraction that made her want to cross every line they'd drawn. 

But watching him now, seeing him work through whatever frustration had driven him to pummel the heavy bag tonight, Lucy couldn't help wondering if she was making the biggest mistake of her life. Chris was safe, uncomplicated, the smart choice. Tim was...everything she wanted and couldn't have.

Tim stepped back from the bag, pulling off his gloves and reaching for his water bottle, and Lucy quickly stepped back from the doorway before he could spot her. Her heart was racing, her skin felt too warm, and she was pretty sure she'd just made her Saturday night date infinitely more complicated.

Tim turned just as Lucy had stepped back, sensing that she'd been in the doorway. He pulled off his headphones. His voice hoarse from exertion, he called out, "Lucy? You home?"

A few moments later, she replied from inside the house, "Yeah, I'm here!"

Lucy heard his footsteps approaching the kitchen as he called back, "How was your shift?"

"Good," she called, already heading toward her room. "But I'm beat. Going to shower and turn in early. Good night!"

She practically fled down the hallway before he could respond, knowing that facing him right now, all sweaty and half-naked and looking like every fantasy she'd been trying to suppress, would be the end of her resolve.

Because now she knew exactly what she shouldn’t be thinking about Saturday night while Chris made perfectly charming conversation.

And it shouldn’t be Tim.

Friday evening found them in the kitchen together, moving around each other with silted and careful politeness, trying very hard not to acknowledge the elephant in the room. Lucy was stress-cooking, something she'd started doing since moving in, and Tim was pretending to read through some paperwork while actually watching her dice vegetables with more violence than was strictly necessary.

"You don't have to cook," Tim said finally. "I can order something."

"I want to cook," Lucy replied, attacking an onion like it had personally offended her. "It's relaxing."

Tim watched her aggressive chopping and the stray curl that kept falling in her face.

Despite her efforts to keep it tucked behind her ear, he decided not to comment on her definition of relaxing.

"So," he said, aiming for casual and missing by a mile. "What time is your date tomorrow?"

Lucy's knife slipped, and she cursed under her breath. "Seven. He's picking me up at seven."

"Here?"

"Where else would he pick me up? Is that okay? There aren’t any rules about that in the Roommate agreement,” she spat out, harsher than intended.

Tim nodded, trying to imagine her date on his doorstep, probably with flowers, definitely in some expensive suit, even though he’s taking her to Pink’s. "I'll probably be out too. Give you privacy."

Lucy looked up from her demolished onion. "You don't have to leave your own house, Tim. Wait…you have plans too?"

"Date." Tim kept his voice carefully neutral. "Ashley McGrady. She's a lifeguard."

Lucy suddenly felt sick. "Oh. That's... that's great. I'm sure you'll have fun."

"Should be nice. She understands the job, her dad's a retired cop." Tim was watching Lucy's face carefully, though he wasn't sure what he was looking for. "Angela thinks we'll hit it off."

"I'm sure you will," Lucy said, turning back to her vegetables with renewed violence. "She sounds perfect for you."

They lapsed back into uncomfortable silence, the only sound the violent chopping of vegetables, Lucy sniffling as her chopped onion now became minced, and the increasingly ridiculous bubble of tension that seemed to fill every corner of the kitchen.

Tim couldn't take it anymore. He stood up and set aside his paperwork with more force than necessary.

"I'm going to bed," he announced.

"It's eight-thirty. What about dinner?” Lucy called after him.

"I'm tired."

Lucy watched him go, noting the tension in his shoulders and how he'd avoided making eye contact with her all evening. Something was definitely wrong, but she couldn't figure out what. And now he had a date too, with someone who sounded absolutely perfect for him.

This time tomorrow, they'd both be on dates with other people. People who had no complications, no roommate agreements, no shared trauma or complicated history.

She should be excited. 

Instead, Lucy looked around Tim's kitchen, t heir kitchen , and felt nothing but dread.

So she set out to finish cutting the onion, which definitely wasn’t making her cry, then pulled out her phone and stared at it for a full minute before hitting Angela's contact. The call was answered on the second ring.

"Lucy! How are you—"

"What the hell, Angela?" Lucy's voice was sharp and she was too wound up to care about pleasantries.

"Well, hello to you, too. What's wrong?"

"Ashley McGrady? Really?" Lucy paced around the kitchen, gesturing wildly even though Angela couldn't see her. "You've been pushing Tim and me together for weeks, and now you set him up with some gorgeous lifeguard?"

Angela's pause was telling. "Ah. So Tim told you about his date."

"Of course he told me! We live together!" Lucy's voice cracked slightly. "Angela, I'm confused. I thought you wanted us to... I mean, you keep making these comments about us."

"I do want you to figure it out," Angela said calmly. "But Lucy, you're the one who said yes to Chris Sanford first."

"That's different. Chris is nice, and we get along, and it makes sense."

"How is it different? You just said yes to a date with another man because you're scared."

"I'm not scared," Lucy said quickly. "I just don't want to mess up what Tim and I have. We're good roommates, good friends. Why would I risk ruining that for something that might not even work out?"

"Lucy…"

"No, seriously, Angela. What happens when we try dating and it crashes and burns? Then I lose my home, my friend, and things get weird at work. That's not worth some... some crush or whatever."

Angela was quiet for a moment. "Is that really what you think this is? A crush?"

"I don't know what it is," Lucy said, her voice smaller now. "I just know that Tim is important to me, and I can't lose what we have. So yeah, I said yes to Chris because he's uncomplicated and safe and won't blow up my entire life."

"So I figured Tim needed a little perspective too," Angela said gently.

Lucy stopped pacing. "By setting him up with a blonde bombshell lifeguard? Zero competition from me."

"Lucy Chen, don't you dare sell yourself short," Angela's voice was fierce. "And stop pretending this is just about being roommates."

"It's not pretending! It's being practical!" Lucy's voice rose. "Tim deserves someone who won't complicate his life. She doesn’t come with a messy work situation…"

And she's not you," Angela interrupted. "Lucy, sometimes you have to risk what you have to get what you want."

"But what if what I want ruins everything?" Lucy whispered, finally admitting her real fear.

"And what if it doesn't?" Angela countered. "What if it makes everything better?"

Lucy sank onto Tim's couch, suddenly exhausted. "This is a terrible plan, Angela."

"Maybe. But you two need to see what settling feels like." Angela's voice softened. "The dates have to happen, Lucy. You both need to figure out what you're actually fighting for."

"I'm not fighting for anything," Lucy said weakly. "I'm just trying not to lose what I already have."

"Oh, honey," Angela said sadly. "You're going to lose it anyway if you keep pretending it's nothing."

After Lucy hung up, she sat in Tim's living room, surrounded by the comfortable chaos of their shared life, and tried very hard not to think about what Angela meant.

Saturday morning arrived after a fitful sleep. Lucy had been awake since five, listening to Tim's alarm and the familiar sounds of him getting ready for his workout. She'd skipped a few mornings, needing space to think, but today something made her get up and pull on her workout clothes.

Maybe it was nerves about her date. Maybe it was the fact that she'd been stress-eating too much this week and needed to move her body. Or maybe it was the thought that Tim would be going on his own date tonight, and she wanted... what? One more morning of their routine before everything changed?

Lucy didn't examine that thought too closely.

She quietly made her way to the garage, where she found Tim doing pull-ups, his back to the door. She loved that he almost always seemed to be doing pull-ups when she entered the gym. Always wearing those black shorts and one of three ballcaps backwards. Today it was a Ram’s hat, and Lucy had to pause in the doorway to catch her breath. This was exactly why she'd been avoiding the workouts. Tim, half-naked and sweaty, was dangerous to her peace of mind.

He dropped from the bar with a grunt and turned, catching sight of her in the doorway.

"Lucy," he said, slightly breathless. "I didn’t expect you on a day off.”

"Thought I might join you," she said, stepping into the garage. "I’ve missed the last couple of days."

Tim's face lit up, he welcomed the company, but there was something else in his expression, too. Something more intense than usual.

"Of course. I was just finishing up pull-ups. We could do some circuit training."

 “I like the circuit.”

"Let's start with some warm-up stretches." Lucy tried not to stare at the way his abs contracted with his movement.

"Actually, let's try something different today," Tim said, moving to grab a yoga mat. "Recovery day. Stretching and flexibility work."

Lucy's stomach flipped. Stretching meant close quarters, meant Tim watching her body move in ways that had nothing to do with strength training.

"I don't really need to stretch—"

"Everyone needs to stretch, Lucy. Prevents injury." Tim unrolled the mat, then looked at her expectantly. "Besides, your hip flexors have been tight since that foot pursuit last week."

How did he notice that? Lucy reluctantly took her position on the mat, hyperaware of Tim settling beside her.

"Pigeon pose," he instructed, demonstrating the position. "Hold for sixty seconds."

Lucy folded into the stretch, immediately feeling the pull through her hip. She closed her eyes, trying to focus on the stretch instead of how Tim had positioned himself directly in her line of sight, his own flexibility on display in ways that made her mouth go dry.

"Breathe into it," Tim said softly, and when Lucy opened her eyes, she found him watching her intently. "Don't fight the discomfort."

There was something in his voice, something lower and rougher than his usual commanding tone, that made her heart threaten to burst from her chest.

"Switch sides," he said after what felt like an eternity.

As Lucy transitioned, Tim moved behind her. "Your form's off. Here." His hands settled on her hips, adjusting her position with careful precision. "Feel that? That's where you should feel the stretch."

Lucy felt a lot of things, and it wasn’t hip flexibility. Tim's hands were warm through the thin fabric of her leggings, his touch firm but gentle as he guided her deeper into the pose.

"Better?" His voice was close to her ear, close enough that she could feel his breath against her neck.

"Much," Lucy managed, proud that her voice came out steady.

"Good. Now hold it there." But Tim didn't move away. Instead, his hands remained on her hips, steadying her. Their heat seared her through the thin fabric of her leggings. "Sometimes you have to surrender to get what you need."

Lucy's eyes snapped open at his words, catching something in his tone. When she glanced back at him, Tim's expression was unreadable, but his eyes had darkened, the steely blue barely visible.

"Tim…"

"Hamstring stretch next," he said quickly, finally stepping back. "Lying down."

Lucy positioned herself on her back, and Tim knelt beside her, lifting her leg toward her chest. The position was clinical, therapeutic, but the way Tim's eyes tracked along her leg, and the way his fingers pressed against her calf felt anything but.

"Relax," he murmured, pressing her leg closer to her chest. "Let me do the work."

The words sent heat shooting through her body. Tim was concentrating, focused on the stretch, but Lucy caught the way his breathing had changed, and a slight flush creeping up his neck.

"Other leg," he said, his voice rougher now.

As he switched positions, his hand trailed along her thigh, and Lucy bit back a gasp. This was torture. Sweet, delicious torture.

"Last one," Tim said, moving to straddle her leg as he guided it into a deeper stretch. "This might feel a bit..." The rest of his words dropped off as he guided her stretch, but neither of them noticed. 

The position put him directly over her, his face inches from hers as he leaned forward to deepen the stretch. Lucy could see every line on his face, the concentration, the careful control hidden in the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes and set of his jaw and the way his pupils had dilated despite the bright garage lighting.

"How's that?" he asked softly, his hands steady on her leg.

"Intense," Lucy whispered, and they both knew she wasn't talking about the stretch anymore.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Tim's eyes dropped to her mouth, then back to her eyes, and Lucy saw the exact moment when his typically well-maintained control wavered.

"I’m sorry, did I push too far?" he asked cautiously.

"No. No, I’m good," Lucy gulped, though she remained frozen in place.

She was breathing hard and completely rattled. Tim finally broke their trance and helped her up, his hands lingering on her arms as she steadied herself.

"Good work," he said, standing close enough that she could see the sweat on his chest, could feel the heat radiating from his skin. "You're stronger than you think."

Lucy sat up quickly, her cheeks burning. "Thanks."

"Yeah," Tim agreed, but he was looking at her with an intensity that made her pulse skip. 

"I had a good trainer," Lucy said, then immediately regretted it when Tim’s darkened gaze caught hers again.

"Did you?" His voice carried an edge she'd never heard before, something almost possessive. "Good to know."

Lucy stood up, suddenly needing space. "I should shower. I have some errands to run before tonight."

"Right," Tim said, stepping closer instead of backing away. "Your date with Sanford."

"Yes. And you have your date with Ashley."

"I do." Tim was close enough now that Lucy had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. "Should be fun. Beach volleyball, apparently. Very... physical."

He hates the beach.

But there was something in the way he said 'physical' that made Lucy feel suddenly ill.. Like he was testing her reaction, seeing if she cared about the idea of him being physical with someone else.

"Sounds perfect for you," Lucy managed, proud that her voice came out steady.

"We'll see," Tim said, his eyes never leaving hers. "I prefer my workouts with a more... compatible partner."

Lucy's heart skipped. Was he talking about exercise, or was he talking about something else entirely? The way he was looking at her, the way he'd been touching her all morning, it felt like a conversation about something much more intimate than a workout.

"Tim," she started, not sure what she was going to say.

"You should shower," he said, stepping back just enough to break the spell. "Don't want to keep you from all of your errands before your date."

Lucy nodded, backing toward the door on unsteady legs. "Right. Date. I should... yes."

As she moved quickly toward the house, Lucy could feel Tim's eyes on her, and she knew with absolute certainty that he'd been deliberately testing her boundaries all morning. The question was, why?

And the bigger question was why it had affected her so much that she was now seriously reconsidering whether going out with Chris was the smart choice, or the stupidest thing she could possibly do.

Behind her, she heard Tim start another set of pull-ups, and Lucy tried very hard not to think about the deliberate way he'd said 'compatible partner,' or the fact that her body was still humming from an hour of his hands on her skin.

She should be running errands before going on her first date with the textbook-perfect match. Instead, she could hear Angela’s words on repeat. 

You're going to lose it anyway if you keep pretending it's nothing.

Chapter Text

Tim stood in his bedroom, staring at his reflection in board shorts and a t-shirt, when he heard Lucy’s blow dryer start up down the hall. The reality of what they were both about to do hit him like a freight train. 

They were going on dates. With other people. While living together. 

This had disaster written all over it. 

Beach volleyball. 

With a lifeguard. 

What the hell had he been thinking?

From down the hall, he could hear Lucy getting ready. Some random Backstreet Boys song playing. Her blow dryer running, drawers opening and closing. He wondered what she was wearing, whether Chris would appreciate how beautiful she looked, and if he'd be smart enough to order extra napkins because Lucy always managed to get food on her clothes.

Tim caught himself and shook his head. This was exactly why he needed this date.

But his brain wouldn’t slow down, and before he realized what he was doing, Tim had walked down the hall and knocked on Lucy’s door. “Lucy? Before we head out, should we…discuss any amendments to the roommate agreement?” 

The blow dryer stopped. “What kind of amendments?”

“Well,” Tim cleared his throat, feeling ridiculous but unable to stop himself. “Section Eight covers overnight guest protocols, but maybe we need subsections for…dating logistics?”

“Communication protocols for when we’re both…out. Timeline expectations. Whether we need to coordinate key usage to avoid…” Tim gestured vaguely, “Awkward hallway encounters.”  

“Tim,” Lucy’s voice was gentle but firmly amused. “Are you trying to create a policy for us both coming home from dates?” 

“I’m trying to help us avoid any awkward situations.” 

“Lucy studied his face, noting the tension around his eyes and his rigid posture. “We’ll figure it out as we go. It’s just one night, one date.” 

“Right. One night,” Tim nodded stiffly. “Well, have fun with Chris. Don’t let him order for you.” 

“I won’t.” Lucy’s smile was soft. “Have fun with Ashley. Try to actually have fun, Tim.”

“I always have fun,” he deadpanned. 

“No, you always have rules and routines. Wash, Rinse. Repeat. There is a difference.” 

Tim was still processing that distinction when he drove to meet Ashley. 

Ashley McGrady was everything Angela had promised. She was a tall, blonde, gorgeous, and completely at home on the beach. She was also funny, smart, and understanding about the demands on a police officer. In theory, she was perfect.

In practice, Tim spent the entire afternoon thinking about how Lucy would have laughed at him for agreeing to beach volleyball in the first place.

"You're overthinking it!" Ashley called out after Tim's serve went three feet to the left. "Just relax and have fun!"

Tim tried to remember the last time someone had told him to relax and have fun. Lucy never told him to relax during their workouts. She matched his intensity, understood his focus. She might have been the last one to tell him to have fun, though. His lips curved up in a smile, thinking of her crouched beside him, eye pressed against the sight of her paintball gun. Fun. That day had been a glimmer of fun during one of the darkest periods of his life. All thanks to Lucy. 

Now he’s standing on this beach, feeling his age on this ridiculous date Angela had set him up on. 

After an hour of doing his best to relax and have fun , Ashley suggested they take a break. Finally.

"You seem distracted," she said gently. "Everything okay?"

"Sorry. Just... work stuff."

Ashley's smile turned knowing. "Personal stuff, more like. Want to tell me about her?"

Tim's head snapped up. "How did you…?"

"You've checked your phone four times, and you keep looking like you'd rather be somewhere else." Ashley's tone was understanding. "Plus, Angela mentioned you just started living with a female roommate."

"It's complicated."

"The best ones usually are." Ashley bumped his shoulder. "For what it's worth, any woman who has you tied up in knots must be pretty special."

"She is," Tim said quietly.

Ashley smiled. "Then why are you sitting on a beach with me instead of figuring out how to tell her that?"

Pink's was exactly as chaotic and wonderful as Lucy remembered. Chris had managed to snag them a spot near the front of the line, and Lucy found herself genuinely impressed.

"Regular customer," he admitted with a grin. "My Nan would disown me if I didn't appreciate a good hot dog."

Chris was charming, intelligent, and thoughtful. He asked about her goals, her family, and what she wanted out of life. He was perfect. The kind of man any reasonable woman would be thrilled to be on a date with.

So why did Lucy keep thinking about Tim's dry humour? About how he would have noticed the street musician and quietly left money in his guitar case?

They walked through Griffith Park after dinner, and Chris was entertaining, asking thoughtful questions. But something felt off.

"You seem more relaxed than at work," Chris observed. "At work, you're always so focused, or should I say passionate."

Lucy smiled, but only now did it bother her that Chris didn’t love her focus and passion for the job. Tim understood it and matched it.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Angela: How's the date going? Hopefully, you're realizing what you actually want.

Lucy quickly put her phone away, cheeks burning.

"Lucy," Chris said gently, "you've mentioned your roommate three times in the past hour.

Lucy felt tears prick her eyes. "I'm sorry. This isn't fair to you."

"Hearts don't follow logic," Chris said with understanding. "I've been there."

Her phone buzzed again, this time from Tim: Hope you're having fun Lucy. Remember, don’t let him order for you.

Lucy stared at the message. Even in a few words, Tim knew her well enough to understand her independence.

Chris was perfect. The whole evening had been exactly what she'd hoped for.

So why did she feel like she was lying to herself?

Tim was pacing his living room like a caged animal when his phone buzzed with Lucy's text. He read it three times, analyzing every word for subtext. "Pink's was perfect" could mean anything. Perfect food, perfect weather, perfect company.

Perfect date.

The thought made his stomach clench. He glanced at the clock, 9:45 PM. They'd been gone for almost three hours. How long did it take to eat hot dogs? Were they walking? Talking? Sitting somewhere while Chris made her laugh with his perfect jokes?

Tim's phone buzzed again, this time with a photo message. But it wasn't from Lucy, it was from Ashley, a group shot of her and several attractive people around a bonfire on the beach. She looked radiant, surrounded by what were presumably her lifeguard friends, including a tall, dark-haired guy who had his arm casually draped around her shoulders.

The caption read: Thanks for understanding! Sometimes things work out exactly as they should (fire emoji)

Tim stared at the photo, then showed it to Kojo, who was lying on the couch looking thoroughly unimpressed with his human's agitation.

"Look at that," Tim said. "She's already moved on. Found someone who enjoys beach volleyball."

Kojo yawned.

"You're right. I should be happy for her. Ashley deserves someone who appreciates... whatever it is people appreciate about the beach."

His phone buzzed with another message, this one from Angela: How was your date? Ashley posted some cute pics, looks like you two hit it off!

Tim looked at Ashley's photo again, noting the obvious chemistry between her and the man she was sitting with, the easy way she fit into this group of sun-kissed beach lovers, who probably spent their weekends doing things like beach volleyball, surfing and bonfires.

Before Tim could respond, he heard a car door slam outside. Lucy was home. Tim immediately felt his pulse spike, then forced himself to sit down on the couch and pick up a book. He was not going to be waiting by the door like an anxious roommate.

The front door opened, and Lucy's voice carried through the house as she kicked off her shoes.

"I'm home!" she called, then appeared in the living room doorway.

Kojo trotted over to greet her as Tim looked up from his book (which he realized he was holding upside down) and felt his breath catch. Lucy looked beautiful. Her hair was slightly mussed from the evening breeze, her cheeks flushed from walking, and she wore a sundress he'd never seen before that made her look softer somehow, more feminine than her usual work attire.

"How was your date?" he asked, proud that his voice came out relatively normal.

"Good," Lucy said, settling into the chair across from him. "Really good. Chris is... he's great. Really thoughtful, funny, easy to talk to."

Each positive adjective felt like a small knife to Tim's chest. "Sounds perfect."

"Yeah," Lucy said, but something in her tone made Tim look at her more carefully. "He is. Perfect."

"But?"

"But what?"

"You said 'he is perfect' like there was a 'but' coming after it."

Lucy was quiet for a moment, studying his face. "How was your date? With Ashley?"

"Fine. She's great too. Beautiful, smart, athletic. She gets what it could mean, dating a cop."

"Sounds perfect," Lucy echoed his words back to him.

"Yeah. Perfect."

They sat in silence, both pretending to be absorbed in their respective activities: Tim with his upside-down book, Lucy with her phone. Tension crackled between them like a living thing, feeding off every subtle glance and movement.

"So," Lucy said finally, "Are you going to see Ashley again?"

"I don't know. Maybe. She's... we're very different."

"Different how?"

Tim set down his book and looked at Lucy directly. "She told me to relax and have fun. Multiple times."

Lucy's mouth quirked up in what might have been a smile. "And how did that go?"

"About as well as you'd expect." Tim paused. "What about you? Second date with Chris?"

"Maybe. Probably." Lucy's fingers were fidgeting with her phone case. "He's very... attentive. He notices things. He asked about my goals, my family, and what I want out of life."

"Sounds like a good listener."

"He is. He's exactly the kind of guy I should be interested in."

"Should be?"

Lucy looked at him sharply. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Just an interesting way to phrase it."

"How should I have phrased it?"

Tim felt something dangerous stirring. He felt worried, maybe scared. Maybe it was the way Lucy kept saying Chris was perfect while looking like she was trying to convince herself. Or it was the memory of admitting to Ashley that he was interested in Lucy, even if it was complicated. Or maybe it was the simple fact that he was tired of pretending he didn't care who Lucy went on dates with.

"Maybe you should be interested in someone because you want to be, not because they check all the right boxes."

Lucy's eyes flashed. "What makes you think I don't want Chris?"

"The fact that you've been home for ten minutes and you haven't smiled once when talking about your perfect date with your perfect guy."

"I don't have to smile to prove I had a good time."

"No, but you usually do. When you're happy about something, you light up. You get animated. You talk with your hands. You get passionate." Tim stood up, moving closer to her chair. "You haven't done any of those things."

Chris’s words from earlier echoed in her mind. How he’d mentioned her focus and passion, yet it left her feeling as though her personality might be too loud for his quiet sensibilities. Tim called it out, recognizing who she was and accepting her unconditionally. 

But this.

With Tim?

Could ruin everything.  

Lucy stood up too, facing him across the small space of his living room. "Maybe I'm just tired."

Tim looked down at his hands, “Mhm. Maybe.” 

They stood in uncomfortable silence, Tim's phone, still face-up on the coffee table, chose that moment to buzz with another message.

Lucy's eyes automatically flicked to the screen, catching Ashley's name and what looked like another photo. Her stomach dropped as she imagined Ashley sending Tim romantic follow-up messages, making plans for their next date.

"You should get that," Lucy said, moving abruptly. "Looks like Ashley had a great time tonight."

Before Tim could explain that Ashley’s text had nothing to do with a follow up date, Lucy was already heading toward the hallway.

"Lucy, wait—"

"I'm am pretty tired," she called back, not turning around. "Long day. Good night, Tim."

"Good night," Tim said to the empty room.

He heard her bedroom door close with a soft click, followed by the faint sound of muffled movement as she got ready for bed. Tim stared at his phone, at Ashley's innocent message about how glad she was they'd figured out they were better as friends, and felt like the universe was playing some cosmic joke on him.

Twenty minutes later, he was still staring at the ceiling when he grabbed his phone and texted Angela.

Tim: Lucy had a great time tonight. If you thought setting us both up on dates was going to push us together, you're wrong.

Angela: Oh really? And how was YOUR date with the gorgeous lifeguard?

Tim: Fine.

Angela: Just fine? That's interesting, considering Ashley just posted about meeting someone new at a bonfire.

Tim groaned. Of course Angela had seen the photos.

Tim: We weren't compatible.

Angela: Because you spent the whole time thinking about Lucy?

Tim: Lucy's seeing Chris again. They're perfect for each other.

Angela: Tim Bradford, you are the most emotionally constipated man I have ever met.

Tim: I'm being realistic. Lucy deserves someone who won't complicate her career.

Angela: And what do you deserve?

Tim: A good night's sleep. Which I'm not getting while you psychoanalyze my dating life.

Angela: Fine. But Tim? Just because Lucy said the date was great doesn't mean she meant it. Sometimes people say things are perfect when they're trying to convince themselves.

Tim: What's that supposed to mean?

Angela: It means you're both idiots. Good night.

Tim put his phone away and lay in the dark, listening to the sounds of Lucy moving around her room. Despite what she'd said about her perfect date with her perfect guy, something felt off. The way she'd deflected his questions, the careful brightness in her voice, the way she'd fled when she saw Ashley's name on his phone.

Maybe Angela was right. 

But tonight, Tim knew he wouldn’t sleep. He’d spend hours wondering if he was about to lose Lucy, before he even had her. After offering her his guest room, some part of him knew that he wanted more. But now, faced with a future that might involve her dating, having a boyfriend over, under the same roof, filled him with unease that Angela would tell him is jealousy. 

Lucy deserves to be happy. She deserves easy. Chris checks those boxes. 

He’d get to work on revising the roommate agreement. Lucy deserved at least that much, to have her boundaries respected. 

So just before dawn, Tim slid the revised Roommate Agreement under her bedroom door. 

Revised Edition v3.0 - Dating Logistics Amendment

SECTION EIGHT: OVERNIGHT GUEST PROTOCOL (EXPANDED)

8.1 STANDARD OVERNIGHT VISITORS

8.1a 24-hour advance notice required for overnight visitors
8.1b Communication methods: Text or refrigerator note
8.1c Mutual respect for privacy and shared spaces
8.1d Definitions: "Overnight visitor" includes but is not limited to romantic partners, out-of-town family, or friends who've had too much wine (see Section 7.1c)

8.2 DATING LOGISTICS SUBSECTION (NEW)

8.2a Timeline Coordination : Both parties should communicate general return times to avoid awkward hallway encounters
8.2b Key Usage Protocol : Primary resident maintains key priority. Secondary resident should text before entry if date extends past 11:00 PM
8.2c Common Area Availability : Kitchen and living room are neutral zones. No lingering in shared spaces with dates during active roommate presence
8.2d Morning After Courtesy : Coffee preparation and breakfast areas should be vacated within reasonable timeframe (defined as: before 9:00 AM on weekdays, 10:00 AM on weekends)

8.3 COMMUNICATION STANDARDS FOR DATING SITUATIONS

8.3a Advance Notice : Minimum 4-hour notification for bringing dates to residence
8.3b Status Updates : Optional but recommended check-ins for extended evening plans
8.3c Emergency Protocol : Standard roommate safety check-ins apply regardless of dating status
8.3d Awkwardness Mitigation : Both parties agree to maintain professional courtesy if unexpected encounters occur

8.4 SHARED SPACE ETIQUETTE DURING DATING

8.4a Kitchen Boundaries : No romantic cooking displays during roommate meal preparation times
8.4b Living Room Priority : Television and entertainment systems default to primary resident unless prior arrangement made
8.4c Noise Considerations : Standard household noise levels maintained. No excessive... enthusiasm... that might disturb roommate sleep or comfort
8.4d Personal Item Security : Both parties responsible for securing private belongings during guest visits

ADDENDUM B: DATING LOGISTICS CLARIFICATIONS

B.1 This amendment specifically addresses situations where both roommates may be actively dating different people simultaneously

B.2 All previous agreement sections remain in effect unless specifically contradicted by this amendment

B.3 These protocols are designed to maintain household harmony and prevent unnecessary social awkwardness

B.4 In the event of scheduling conflicts regarding shared spaces, matters shall be resolved through mature discussion and, if necessary, rock-paper-scissors (best of three)

Signatures Required for Ratification:

Timothy Bradford ________________

Lucy Chen ________________

Amendment Date: [To be filled upon mutual agreement]

Chapter Text

Lucy stared at the document in her hands, torn between laughter and disbelief. Tim had outdone himself. What had started as a two-page roommate agreement had somehow evolved into a five-page masterpiece of bureaucratic red tape that would make the LAPD's policy manual look casual by comparison.

She'd found it slipped under her bedroom door that morning, neatly written out and organized with attention to detail that was so quintessentially Tim it made her chest tight with affection.

BRADFORD-CHEN COHABITATION AGREEMENT
Revised Edition v3.0 - Dating Logistics Amendment

Lucy skimmed through the new sections, shaking her head at gems like "Timeline Coordination" and "Awkwardness Mitigation Protocols." But when she got to section 8.4c about "excessive enthusiasm that might disturb roommate sleep or comfort," she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing out loud.

Only Tim would add more rules. What Lucy didn’t know was if they were meant to protect him from witnessing anything with Chris or to let Lucy know thart he was respecting her boundaries. 

Lucy grabbed a pen and signed her name with a flourish, then added a note in the margin: Amendment 4.0: Food sharing protocols still pending negotiation. Also, your spice organization system is showing.

She set the signed agreement on the dining room table before heading to work, grinning despite the knot of anxiety in her stomach about everything the amendment represented.

Tim was reviewing reports when he heard Angela's voice carry across the bullpen.

"So? How was the date with Mr. Perfect ADA?"

Lucy's laugh was a little too bright. "It was great. Really great. Chris is... he's everything you'd want on paper, you know? Successful, thoughtful, great conversationalist."

Tim's pen stilled on the page. He told himself he wasn't eavesdropping, just happened to be within earshot of their conversation.

"On paper?" Angela's voice carried a knowing tone hinting she'd caught something Lucy hadn't meant to reveal.

"No, I mean, he's perfect. We're going out again this weekend." Lucy's voice dropped slightly. "I just need to... be more attentive this time."

"More attentive?"

Tim found himself leaning slightly toward their conversation, pretending to be absorbed in the pile of paperwork in front of him. Angela clocked his movement. 

"I spent half the date thinking about other things," Lucy admitted. "Like wondering how Tim's date was going, if he found Ashley attractive, if they were having a good time..."

Tim's heart skipped a beat. Had he found Ashley attractive? He hadn’t stopped thinking about Lucy the entire night. Sure, Ashley was attractive, but he wasn’t attracted to her, not drawn in, and captivated the way he was with Lucy. 

"And she's been texting him all week, Angela. I see his phone lighting up with her name constantly. They must really be hitting it off." Lucy's voice carried a forced lightness that made Tim want to march over there and explain that Ashley's texts were about her new boyfriend and whether Tim had finally grown a backbone.

Angela glanced across the bullpen again, catching Tim's carefully neutral expression, and made a decision. "Maybe you're overthinking th–"

"I'm not overthinking anything," Lucy interrupted. "I'm trying to be practical. Chris makes sense. Tim and Ashley make sense. And I need to stop getting distracted by things that don't matter."

Things that don't matter. The words hit Tim like a punch in the gut. He forced himself to look back at his paperwork, but the letters swam on the page.

"Lucy..." Angela started, but Lucy was already standing up.

"I should get back to my paperwork. Thanks for listening, though."

As Lucy walked back to her desk, she passed Tim's without looking up. Tim caught a whiff of her shampoo and had to grip his pen tighter to keep from reaching out to stop her.

Angela appeared at his desk a moment later, perched on the edge with her arms crossed.

"You heard all that," she said. It wasn't a question.

"I was working."

"You were eavesdropping, and now you look like someone kicked Kojo." Angela studied his face. "You know she doesn't mean it, right? When she says Chris is perfect?"

"Sounded like she meant it."

"Tim, Lucy spent her entire date with another man thinking about you. How is that not obvious?"

Tim finally looked up from his paperwork. "She also said I don't matter."

"She said she needs to stop getting distracted by things that don't matter. That's not the same thing." Angela leaned closer. "That's her trying to convince herself what’s happening or not happening between you two doesn’t matter because she's scared of how much it does."

Before Tim could respond, Angela's phone buzzed. She glanced at it and smirked.

"Speaking of being scared, Ashley wants to know if you've finally told your roommate how you feel about her."

Tim's head snapped up. "What?"

"Ashley. The woman you supposedly had such a great date with? She's been texting you all week asking when you're going to stop being an idiot and tell Lucy you're in love with her."

Tim stared at her. "Lucy thinks Ashley and I are..."

"Dating. Yes. Because you're both morons who assume the worst about everything." Angela stood up. "Fix this, Tim. Before Lucy convinces herself that Chris Sanford is her future."

That evening, Tim arrived home to Lucy in the kitchen, chopping vegetables while she belted out All I Ask by Adele as it played from her phone. She was wearing fitted jeans and a soft sweater that had slipped off one shoulder, and Tim had to pause in the doorway to collect himself. He loved seeing her in their kitchen, her beautiful voice soaring up into the vaulted ceiling. But something about the song and her voice tonight filled his heart with sadness. 

Trying not to read too much into it, he pressed forward. Clearing his throat, so as not to startle her, "Need help?"

She moved to turn her music down and smiled sheepishly without looking up. "I'm good. Just making stir-fry. I made enough for two if you want some."

Tim moved to the counter beside her, close enough to see the tension in her shoulders. "Rough day?"

"Long day." Lucy reached for a bell pepper, and their hands brushed as Tim handed it to her. The brief contact sent a charge up both of their arms, but Lucy pulled away quickly. "Thanks."

"Lucy…"

"Can you grab the rice from the pantry?" she asked, still not meeting his eyes.

Tim retrieved the rice, noting how Lucy immediately moved to put the island between them when he returned. They moved around each other in careful choreography, passing ingredients, avoiding contact, the air thick with everything they weren't saying.

"So," Tim said finally, watching Lucy toss vegetables in the wok with perhaps more force than necessary. "Second date with Chris this weekend?"

Lucy's shoulders tensed. "Yes. Saturday night. He's taking me to some gallery opening downtown."

"Sounds... cultured."

"Chris appreciates art." Lucy's tone was defensive. "It's nice to be with someone who has varied interests."

The implicit comparison stung, though Tim wasn't sure if it was intentional. "Right. Of course."

They ate dinner in quiet politeness, discussing work, the weather, anything that wasn't the elephant in the room. But when Lucy reached for her water glass and her sweater slipped further off her shoulder, revealing the elegant line of her collarbone, Tim forgot what he was saying mid-sentence.

Lucy looked up to find him staring, his eyes dark and focused on her exposed skin. The air between them crackled.

"Tim?" Her voice came out breathier than intended.

Tim's gaze snapped back to her face, but the damage was done. They were both breathing a little harder, both acutely aware of the current arcing between them.

Tim startled, standing abruptly. "I uh. I should let you get ready for your evening."

"I'm not going anywhere tonight," Lucy said quietly.

The words hung loaded with implication. Tim drank her in. The soft pink of her flushed cheeks, the way her lips were slightly parted, the invitation in her eyes that she probably didn't even realize she was extending.

"Lucy," he said, his voice rough.

"Yeah?"

But before either of them could do something stupid or wonderful, Tim's phone buzzed loudly on the counter. Both of them jumped, the spell broken.

Ashley's name flashed on the screen, and Lucy immediately stepped back, the walls going up in her expression.

"You should get that," she said, her voice carefully neutral again. "I'll clean up."

Tim wanted to ignore the phone, wanted to tell Lucy that Ashley was just a friend, that he'd rather spend the evening with her than anyone else. But Lucy had already turned away, busying herself with the dishes, and the moment was lost.

Later that night, Tim was working on his fantasy football picks in bed when he heard the soft sound of Lucy's footsteps in the hallway. A moment later, there was a gentle knock on his door.

"Come in," he called.

Lucy appeared in the doorway wearing an oversized t-shirt, his, the one she'd claimed not long after moving in, and sleep shorts that showed off her legs. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, and she looked soft and rumpled and stunningly beautiful.

Tim swallowed hard.

"Sorry to bother you," she said, hovering uncertainly in the doorway. "I couldn't sleep, and I thought I heard... Is everything okay? You seemed tense at dinner."

Tim set his tablet aside, drinking in the sight of her in his shirt, framed by the doorway, looking concerned about him. "Just thinking about work stuff." He lied.

"The Johanssen case?"

"Something like that." Tim paused, studying her face in the dim light from his bedside lamp. "What about you? Why can't you sleep?"

Lucy shifted her weight, and Tim caught a glimpse of smooth thigh as his shirt rode up slightly. "I don't know. Restless, I guess."

They looked at each other across the space of his bedroom, both dangerously aware of the intimacy of the moment. Lucy in his clothes, Tim shirtless, his blankets pooling at his waist, the quiet darkness of the house around them.

"Lucy," Tim said softly.

"Yeah?"

Tim didn’t know how to start this conversation, but he was going to try. Sucking in one anxious breath, he went for it. "Do you think things could get serious? With Chris, I mean?”

The question seemed to surprise her. Lucy wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly looking younger, more vulnerable.

"I mean," she said finally. "He's everything I should want."

"That's not what I asked." Tim realized his voice was firm, but he hoped Lucy could hear the genuine concern in it. 

Lucy was quiet and time stretched on for what felt like minutes, and when she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. "I don't know what happiness is supposed to feel like anymore, Tim. Everything's been so... complicated since Jackson died. Since I moved in here. Since..."

"Since what?"

Lucy looked at him directly then, and Tim saw something raw and honest in her expression that completely disarmed him.

"Since I started wanting things I can't have," she said quietly.

The admission hung between them like a live wire. Tim felt his heart racing, felt the careful boundaries he’d put in place start to slip.

"Lucy—"

"I should go," she said quickly, stepping back from the doorway. "Let you get some sleep. Good night, Tim."

"Good night," Tim managed, but she was already gone, leaving him staring at the empty doorway and wondering if he'd imagined the longing in her voice.

Down the hall, Lucy pressed her back against her closed bedroom door, her heart pounding. She'd almost said too much, almost crossed a line that could ruin everything.

But as she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, all she could think about was the way Tim had looked at her, like she was beautiful, important in ways she couldn’t think too deeply about. Like she was a threat to his self-control, but also worth fighting for.

Even if she was too scared to let him try.

The next morning's workout was torture.

They'd both shown up in the garage at their usual time, but the easy rhythm they'd developed over the past weeks felt strained. Every accidental touch during partner exercises sent sparks through both of them. When Tim spotted Lucy during bench presses, his hands hovering near her shoulders for safety, she found herself hyperaware of his proximity, the heat radiating from his body.

"That's good," Tim said as Lucy finished her set, his voice rougher than usual. "Your form's getting so strong, Lucy."

She sat up on the bench, and suddenly Tim was standing directly in front of her, close enough that her knees bracketed his legs. They both froze, caught in the unexpected intimacy of the position.

"Tim," Lucy breathed, looking up at him.

His hands came up to frame her face almost involuntarily, thumbs tracing along her cheekbones. Lucy's eyes fluttered closed at the gentle touch, and Tim felt his resolve crumbling.

"We shouldn’t..." he started.

"Yeah, I know," Lucy agreed, but neither of them moved.

Tim's thumb traced across her bottom lip, and Lucy's breath hitched. When she opened her eyes, the want she saw reflected in his expression nearly undid her.

"This is crazy," she whispered.

"Yeah, it is."

But instead of pulling away, Tim leaned closer, until their foreheads were almost touching. Lucy's hands came up to rest on his chest, feeling his heart racing beneath her palms.

"Lucy," Tim said, his voice barely audible.

"I know," she whispered back.

They stayed frozen like that for a moment that felt like eternity, both knowing they were seconds away from crossing every line they'd drawn.

"Lucy," Tim said again, his voice breaking slightly.

"Don't," she whispered, but her hands were fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away. "Don't say whatever you're about to say because I can't... I can't keep pretending I don't want to hear it."

After months of longing and exhaustive boundaries, Tim's careful restraint shattered. 

His mouth crashed down on hers, desperate and hungry, and Lucy responded immediately, her arms winding around his neck as she pulled him closer. The kiss was everything they'd been denying, weeks of tension and want finally finding an outlet.

Tim's hands slid into her hair, tilting her head back so he could deepen the kiss, and Lucy made a sound against his mouth that sent fire shooting through his veins. She shifted on the bench, trying to get closer, and Tim stepped between her knees, his hands settling on her waist.

"God, Lucy," he groaned against her lips, and she could taste the desperation in his voice.

"I know," she gasped, her hands roaming over his chest, his shoulders, anywhere she could reach. "I know, I know."

Tim's mouth moved to her throat, pressing hot kisses along the column of her neck, and Lucy's head fell back with a soft moan that made Tim's control fracture completely. His hands slipped under the hem of her tank top, finding warm skin, and Lucy arched into his touch.

"Tim," she breathed, and the way she said his name only served to fuel his desire to lose him self in her. But a voice in the back of his head reigned him in.

He pulled back to look at her, taking in her swollen lips, her flushed cheeks, the way she was looking at him like he was everything she'd ever wanted and everything she was afraid to have.

"We should stop," he said, though every cell in his body was screaming the opposite.

"Yes," Lucy agreed, but her hands were still in his hair, her legs still bracketing his hips. "We should definitely stop."

Neither of them moved.

"Your date," Tim said roughly. "Tomorrow night. With Chris."

Lucy's eyes fluttered closed, reality crashing back. "My date. Right."

"Lucy—"

"No." She pressed her forehead against his, both of them breathing hard. "No, don't. Don't make this about him, or about work, or about all the reasons this is impossible."

"Then what do we do?"

Lucy looked at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears and want and frustration. "I don't know. I honestly don't know."

Tim's thumb traced along her cheekbone, catching a tear that had escaped. "I can't keep pretending I don't want you."

"I can't keep pretending I don't want you to stop pretending," Lucy whispered back.

The admission hung between them, raw, honest and terrifying. Tim leaned down, pressing one more soft kiss to her lips, and Lucy's hands tightened in his shirt like she was afraid to let him go.

"We're going to have to figure this out," he said against her mouth.

"Yeah. We are."

But as they finally pulled apart, both of them wanting and completely wrecked, they both knew that everything had just changed.

And as they both retreated to get ready for the day, neither of them had any idea what they were going to do about it.

Chapter Text

The shower did nothing to clear Lucy's head.

She stood under the spray, touching her lips where Tim's mouth had been, and tried to process what had just happened. The kiss had been... God, it had been everything. Desperate, hungry, perfect and completely earth-shattering.

And now she had to go to work and pretend to be a perfectly composed adult.

Lucy pressed her forehead against the cool tile and tried to think logically. It was just a kiss. People kissed all the time. It didn't necessarily mean anything more than attraction, close proximity and weeks of built-up tension finally finding an outlet.

Right?

But the way Tim had looked at her afterward, like she was the most terrifyingly precious thing. The way he'd said they needed to figure this out. That didn't sound like just attraction.

Lucy turned off the water and grabbed a towel, her mind spinning. 

What if Tim regretted it? 

And Chris. She had a date with Chris tomorrow night. How was she supposed to go out with another man after kissing Tim like that?

Lucy reached for her phone, fingers hovering over Angela's contact. She started typing.

Angela, something happened this morning with—

Delete.

So Tim and I kind of—

Delete.

I need advice about a situation with my roommate—

Delete.

Lucy stared at the blank message screen, then put her phone away. Some things were too complicated to explain in a text. Especially when she didn't understand them herself.

"Lucy?" Tim's voice came through her bedroom door, making her jump. "We should probably head out soon."

"Right!" Lucy called back, her voice pitched higher than usual. "Yes! Work!"

She could practically hear Tim's confusion through the door. "Are you... okay in there?"

"Perfect! Absolutely perfect! Just... getting ready for another completely normal day at work!"

Lucy caught sight of herself in the mirror and grimaced. She looked like a woman who'd just been thoroughly kissed and was having a complete mental breakdown about it.

Which, to be fair, she was.

The drive to work was excruciating.

Tim sat behind the wheel, his hands gripping it tighter than necessary, stealing glances at Lucy in the passenger seat. She was staring determinedly out the window, her posture rigid, occasionally making small humming sounds that suggested she was having an entire conversation with herself in her head.

"Lucy," he started.

"Beautiful morning!" she said brightly, still not looking at him. "Perfect weather for patrol today! I wonder if we'll have any interesting calls today."

Tim blinked. "Right. Sure."

They sat at a red light in increasingly uncomfortable silence until Lucy suddenly turned to face him.

"Tim, about what happened—"

"The kiss," Tim said quietly.

"Yes, the. Wait, we're calling it 'the kiss'? Like it's a proper noun now?" Lucy's voice was getting higher. "Because I wasn't sure if we were going to pretend it never happened or acknowledge it or create new subsections for the roommate agreement covering post-kiss protocols, which actually might be smart because Section Eight clearly doesn't address—"

“Lucy." Tim's voice was gentler now, and he reached over to squeeze her hand. "Breathe."

The simple touch sent a charge coursing through Lucy’s whole body, and she realized she was spiralling. "Sorry. I'm just... processing."

"I can see that,” Tim tried to hide the curve of his lips. Clearly, Lucy was going through it this morning.

Lucy looked down at their joined hands, then back at his face. "Are you processing?"

"I'm compartmentalizing."

"Right. Of course you are." Lucy pulled her hand away and immediately missed the warmth. "So we're just going to... go to work and be normal?"

"We're going to go to work and be professional," Tim corrected. "Normal might be asking too much at this point."

Lucy let out a slightly hysterical laugh. "Professional. Right."

The light turned green, and Tim started driving again, but Lucy caught him glancing at her with what looked suspiciously like fondness.

"For what it's worth," he said quietly, "I don't regret it."

Lucy's heart fluttered. "You don't?"

He doesn’t. 

"No. But Lucy, we still have to figure out what it means. What we want it to mean."

"Right." Lucy didn’t know what else she could say in this moment. They didn’t have time to figure out anything as Mid-Wilshire came into view. 

"We'll figure it out," Tim said firmly. "But not at work."

"Not at work," Lucy agreed. 

Angela took one look at them walking into the station and knew.

Lucy was practically vibrating with nervous energy, her movements too quick and jerky. Tim was walking, concentrating his efforts on appearing normal. And neither of them was making eye contact with the other.

Angela recognized this dynamic, usually right after two people had done something they probably shouldn't have and were now panicking about it. Growing up with four brothers made her more perceptive than most. 

"Morning, you two," she said casually, settling at her desk. "How's roommate life?"

"Fine!" Lucy said immediately, her voice pitched too high. "Completely normal! Nothing unusual or noteworthy or significant happened this morning."

Tim shot Lucy a look that clearly said 'Could you be more obvious?' while Angela tried not to smirk.

"Right," Angela said slowly. "And Tim? How was your morning?"

"Routine," Tim said stiffly. "Workout, breakfast, walk Kojo, now I’m here. Routine."

"Routine," Angela repeated. "I see."

Lucy was rummaging through her desk drawer, avoiding everyone's eyes. Tim was organizing his already-organized paperwork.

Angela decided to test her theory.

"So Lucy, how are you feeling about your date tomorrow night? Still excited about gallery hopping with Chris?"

Lucy froze mid-rummage. "My date. Right. Yes. Chris. Art galleries. Very... cultured."

"You sound thrilled," Angela observed dryly.

"I am! The galleries will be fun. And Chris is... perfect. On paper. Which is what matters, right? Compatibility on paper?"

Tim's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but Angela caught it.

"Well," Angela said thoughtfully, "sometimes what looks good on paper isn't what's actually good for you."

"But it should be!" Lucy said, slamming her drawer shut. "When someone is objectively perfect for your life and career goals and offers long-term stability, you should want to date them! 

"Lucy," Tim said quietly, and something in his tone made her look at him for the first time all morning.

Their eyes met, and Angela watched with fascination as some wordless communication passed between them. Lucy's cheeks flushed pink, Tim's expression softened, and the air between them practically crackled with tension.

"I need coffee," Lucy said abruptly, breaking eye contact and fleeing toward the break room.

Tim watched her go, his expression unguarded for just a moment, and Angela saw everything she needed to see.

"So," she said conversationally, moving to perch on the edge of Tim's desk. "Want to tell me what happened?"

"Nothing happened," Tim said, but his voice lacked conviction.

"Tim. You're many things, controlling, obsessive, emotionally constipated, but you're not a liar." Angela studied his face. "Plus, Lucy just had what I can only describe as a nervous breakdown trying to talk her way through that conversation."

Tim was quiet for a long moment, then sighed. "It's complicated."

"How so?"

"Angela, not here."

"Ah." Angela nodded knowingly. "The kind of complicated that happens when you stop pretending you're just roommates?"

Tim's head snapped up. "How did you?"

"Because you're both terrible at hiding your feelings, and Lucy is not quite herself this morning.”

Tim's ears went red. "Angela."

"It's about time," Angela said matter-of-factly. "You two have been dancing around each other for months. Though I have to say, your timing could use work. Lucy's supposed to go out with Chris tomorrow."

"I know," Tim said quietly. "That's part of the problem."

"Is it? Because from where I'm sitting, it seems like the problem is that you're both overthinking this instead of just talking to each other."

Before Tim could respond, Lucy reappeared with a cup of coffee, trying very hard to appear calm.

"Sorry," she said, not quite meeting anyone's eyes. "Needed caffeine. 

Angela looked between them, noting the way they were both trying so hard not to look at each other while being hyperaware of each other's every movement.

 "You know what?" Angela said, standing up. "I think I'm going to grab some coffee too. Take my time. Maybe chat with Harper about her weekend plans."

She walked away with purpose, leaving Tim and Lucy alone in their corner of the bullpen.

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment, both pretending to work while stealing glances at each other.

"Lucy," Tim said finally.

"We can't talk about it here," Lucy said quickly, her voice low. "Not at work."

"I know. But…"

"And I don't know what I'm doing about tomorrow night, okay? I don't know anything right now except that my brain won't stop spinning and I can't concentrate on anything because all I can think about is—"

"Lucy!"

She looked at him then, really looked at him, and Tim saw all her confusion mixed with fear and want written across her face.

"We'll figure it out," he said softly. "I know I keep saying it, but it’s true."

Lucy nodded, not trusting her voice. Because the truth was, she was terrified that what happened this morning meant everything to her and nothing to him. Or that it meant everything to both of them and would ruin the best thing in her life.

"Bradford! Chen!!" Grey's voice boomed across the bullpen. "Let's go. The city's not going to police itself."

Tim and Lucy sprang apart like they'd been caught doing something inappropriate, which Angela noted with amusement as she returned to her desk.

As they gathered their gear, Angela seemingly appeared out of nowhere and caught Lucy's arm.

"For what it's worth," she said quietly, "the good ones are worth the risk."

Lucy looked at her, then at Tim, who was waiting by the door with his usual patient expression.

"But what if I mess everything up?" Lucy whispered.

"What if you don't?" Angela countered.

As they headed out for their shift, Lucy realized that Angela was right about one thing: she needed to stop overthinking and start being brave.

The question was whether she was ready to risk everything for the possibility of having it all.

The rest of their shift had been a masterclass in awkwardness. Lucy had managed to avoid looking directly at Tim for most of the day, which was impressive considering they were sharing a patrol car. Tim, for his part, had been over the top, calling her "Officer Chen" at least six times until she'd finally snapped and told him to knock it off.

By the time they were changing out at the end of their shift, Lucy felt like she'd run an emotional marathon while wearing full tactical gear.

"Long day," Tim said as they walked toward his truck, and Lucy nearly jumped out of her skin at the normalcy of his tone.

"Yeah. Really long." Lucy fumbled with her bag, aware of Tim beside her. "Ready to get home?"

Instead of answering, Tim took a left turn out of the station parking lot instead of his usual right.

Lucy looked around, confused. "Where are we going? This isn't the way home."

"Detour," Tim said simply. "Thought we'd grab dinner."

Lucy stared at him. Tim, creature of habit, king of routine, was spontaneously changing their plans. "You want to get dinner? Instead of going home to our perfectly organized meal prep containers?"

"Is that a problem?"

Lucy studied him, the tension in the set of his jaw, the way his hands gripped the steering wheel just a little too tightly. "No. No, it's not a problem. Just... unexpected."

"Yeah, well. Today's been full of unexpected things."

Lucy didn’t know how to respond to that. Not yet. Tim was driving, so she took advantage of one of the rare times when she could play music while he drove. They weren’t in the shop after all. Leaning forward, she turned the volume up as she synced her phone to his truck stereo. For the rest of the drive Tim listened as Lucy belted out songs from her very unapologetic playlist. It helped to quell some of the tension. 

Nearly an hour later, they were sitting at a small poke bowl place near Manhattan Beach, the early evening sun filtering through the windows. Lucy had to admit it was a good choice, casual enough not to feel like a Big Conversation, but different enough from their usual routine to signal that something had shifted.

"This is nice," Lucy said, looking around at the relaxed atmosphere. "How did you know about this place?"

"My sister always makes me bring her here when she visits," Tim said, but there was something in his expression that suggested it meant more than that. "Sometimes it's good to get out of your comfort zone."

Lucy felt butterflies low in her stomach. Was he talking about the restaurant, or something else entirely?

Their food arrived, and Tim stood to collect their orders from the counter. "Be right back."

Lucy watched him go, trying to process the day, the kiss, the way Tim was acting like he was working up to something important. Her phone buzzed, reminding her she had seventeen unread texts from Angela, probably all variations of "TELL ME EVERYTHING" in increasingly creative formats.

Tim's phone, left face-up on the table, lit up with an incoming message.

Lucy tried to look away; she really did. But Ashley's name was right there, and the message preview was partially visible, and her traitorous eyes caught the beginning before she could stop herself.

Ashley: Did you finally tell your roommate...

Lucy's heart dropped into her stomach. Tim was going to tell her he regretted the kiss. He was going to ask her to move out. The detour, the dinner, the careful way he'd been acting all day. He was buttering her up before he broke the news that their moment of weakness had ruined everything.

By the time Tim returned with their food, Lucy had constructed and demolished dozens of different worst-case scenarios in her head.

"Hey," Tim said, setting down her bowl and immediately clocking the change in her demeanour. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Lucy said, with a little too much enthusiasm. "Everything's great! Why would anything be wrong?"

Tim followed her gaze to his phone, saw Ashley's message preview, and felt his stomach drop. "Lucy…"

"It's fine," Lucy said quickly, but without the rapid-fire panic from before. "I totally understand. The kiss was probably just... heat of the moment, basic biology. And you're being really considerate, taking me out to dinner to talk about it instead of making things awkward at home."

"Lucy, stop." Tim's voice was soft but had a note of authority she hadn’t heard since her rookie days. He picked up his phone, unlocked it, and opened his message thread with Ashley. "Just... read this. Please."

Lucy looked at him skeptically, but took the phone. Her eyes widened as she scrolled through the messages.

Ashley: I’m sorry beach volleyball wasn’t your thing. But thanks for playing wing man. Jasper is pretty great.

Tim: See, I told you. He had the look. 

Ashley: You were right! Now, can you please just tell your roommate how you feel about her?

Tim: It's complicated.

Ashley: No, it's not. You like her. How can she not like you?

Tim: You didn’t.

Ashley: Touche! Also, you weren’t feeling it and well….Jasper was.

Tim: Happy for you.

Ashley: Did you finally tell your roommate you have the hots for her?

Tim: Seriously. Why did I bother telling you?

Ashley: Because it made me feel less guilty about ditching you during our date?

Ashley: Does this radio silence mean you finally told her?

Ashley: Did you finally tell your roommate that you are interested in her? 

Lucy looked up from the phone, her cheeks burning. "She... she knew? About how you felt?"

"Apparently, everyone knew except us," Tim said dryly. "Angela, Ashley, probably half the station by now."

"And she's been texting you about... about me?"

"About how I need to stop being an idiot and tell you how I feel." Tim's voice was quiet, careful. "Which, for the record, is terrified, hopeful and completely out of my depth."

Lucy stared at him, processing this new information. "You're terrified?"

"Lucy, you turned my entire life upside down the day you moved in. You make me want things I never thought I could have again. You make me laugh, you challenge me, you make my house feel like a home." Tim's voice was rough with honesty. "And yeah, that terrifies me. Because I've been here before, and I know how badly it can go wrong."

Lucy felt tears prick her eyes. "Tim..."

"But this morning, when I kissed you? That wasn't a mistake." Tim reached across the table and took her hand. "I'm not asking you to move out, Lucy. I'm asking you to stay. Not just as my roommate, but as... whatever this is between us."

Lucy looked down at their joined hands, then back up at his face. "What about Chris?"

"What about him?"

"I'm supposed to go out with him tomorrow night."

Tim's jaw tightened slightly, but his voice remained steady. "Do you want to go out with him?"

Lucy was quiet for a moment, really thinking about it. "I thought I did.  But Tim... when I'm with him, I feel like I'm pretending to be someone I’m not. Like I'm being the version of myself that fits what he wants."

Filled with hope, Tim asks, "And when you're with me?"

Lucy's smile was soft, honest. "When I'm with you, I just get to be me. Even when I'm overthinking everything and spiralling about being roommates and singing off-key in the truck, or in the kitchen.”

"I love it when you sing," Tim said quietly.

"Even when it's terrible 90’s pop?"

"It’s not always ’90s pop, but yes, even then."

Lucy laughed, feeling lighter than she had all day. "So what do we do now?"

"Now," Tim said, squeezing her hand, "you cancel your date with Chris, and we’ll figure out how to be Tim and Lucy who are roommates, co-workers and kinda crazy for each other.”

As they drove home, the tension between them had shifted from avoidance to something more charged. Lucy found herself stealing glances at Tim's hands as he drove, remembering how they'd felt threaded through her hair and cupped her face that morning.

"Thank you," she said as they pulled into the driveway. "For dinner. For... understanding why I was being weird today."

"You weren't being weird. You were being careful." Tim turned off the engine but didn't move to get out. "Lucy, I want you to know, I'm not going to push. Whatever this is, whatever pace you need, I can work with it."

Lucy looked at him, noting the careful distance he was maintaining even now. "What if I don't know what pace I need?"

"Then we figure it out as we go."

Inside, they fell into their usual evening routine, but everything felt different now. When Lucy reached around Tim to get a glass from the cabinet, her arm brushed his chest, and she felt him go still. When Tim moved past her to get to the sink, his hand grazed her lower back, sending heat shooting through her.

"I should..." Lucy gestured vaguely toward her room. "Shower. Long day."

"Right. Yeah." Tim's voice was rougher than usual. "I'll just... clean up here."

Lucy headed down the hallway, hyperaware of Tim moving around the kitchen behind her. In her room, she leaned against the closed door and tried to process what was happening. The boundaries they'd maintained for weeks were dissolving, replaced by something that felt inevitable and terrifying in equal measure.

She could hear Tim moving around the house, the familiar sounds of him locking doors, turning off lights. When she heard his shower start up, Lucy tried very hard not to think about what that meant.

Standing under the hot spray of her own shower, Lucy couldn’t seem to slow her mind as she considered the implications of starting something with Tim. They’d both made it clear that this was more than forced proximity attraction. When Lucy thought about it, she realized if that were the case, something like this would have happened long before now. No. They’d been dancing around the unspoken pull between them for months, maybe even before Lucy moved in, before Jackson…died. 

Hey Chen, save me a dance. 

How many times had she replayed that over in her mind?

The soapy water sluiced down over her shoulders as she stood under the scalding spray. She tried to untangle all her thoughts and feelings about everything suddenly changing while fighting back the swell of desire as she thought about Tim, across the hall. In the shower. Naked. 

She was going to see Tim Bradford naked. 

She shook her head, attempting and failing to clear her thoughts as she rinsed her hair. 

Twenty minutes later, she emerged from her bedroom in a tank top and sleep shorts, feeling slightly more centred. Maybe they could take this slow, figure out how to navigate wanting each other while still being roommates and…

Lucy rounded the corner into the hallway at the exact moment Tim stepped out of his bathroom, steam billowing behind him. He was wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, water droplets trailing down his chest, his hair dark and damp.

They both froze.

Lucy's mouth went completely dry. She'd seen Tim shirtless during their workouts, but this was different. This was Tim in the intimate space of their home, skin flushed from the hot shower, looking like every fantasy she'd been trying not to have.

"Sorry," Tim said, his voice rough. "I forgot to grab..." He trailed off, noting the way Lucy's eyes had darkened, the way she was looking at him like she wanted to trace every drop of water on his skin with her tongue.

"It's fine," Lucy managed, but she didn't move out of the way.

Tim didn't move either. They stood there in the narrow hallway, close enough that Lucy could feel the heat radiating from his skin, could smell his soap and shampoo mixing with something that was purely him.

"Lucy," Tim said quietly, and there was a warning in his voice, like he was holding onto his control by a thread.

"Yeah?" Her voice came out breathier than intended.

"You should probably move."

"Probably," Lucy agreed, but instead of stepping back, she moved closer. "Tim?"

"What?"

"I moved."

Before Tim could respond, Lucy closed the distance between them, her hands fisting in his towel as she pulled him down to her. When their mouths met, it was completely different from their kiss that morning. This kiss wasn’t tentative or gentle; it was hungry and filled with everything they’d been denying. 

Tim groaned against her lips, his hands coming up to frame her face, and Lucy pressed closer, her body flush against his. 

His hands slid into her hair, tilting her head back so he could deepen the kiss, and Lucy made a sound against his mouth that sent fire shooting through his veins. She could feel the edge of his towel against her thighs, could feel how much he wanted her, and it made her dizzy with need.

"God, Lucy," Tim groaned, his mouth moving just behind her ear, just above her tattoo, and Lucy's head fell back with a gasp.

Her hands roamed over his chest, his shoulders, everywhere she could reach, and Tim felt what little control he was clinging to evaporate under her touch. He backed her against the wall, his body caging her in, and Lucy arched into him with a breathless moan.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Tim rested his forehead against hers.

"We should..." he started, but couldn't seem to finish the thought.

"Yeah," Lucy agreed, though once again neither of them moved.

They stood there, lingering, pressed together against the wall, both processing what had just happened. Tim's towel had slipped dangerously low, and Lucy's hands were still fisted in the cloth.

"Lucy," Tim said finally, his voice rough with want.

"I know," she whispered back, then seemed to realize exactly where her hands were. Her eyes widened slightly as she looked down, then back up at his face. "Oh."

Tim followed her gaze and cleared his throat. "Right. I should probably..."

"Get dressed," Lucy finished, but her voice came out breathier than intended. "Definitely get dressed."

"Probably a good idea," Tim agreed, but neither of them moved.

Lucy's hands were still gripping his towel, and Tim was acutely aware that one wrong move would leave him completely exposed. The thought sent heat shooting through him that had nothing to do with embarrassment.

"Lucy," he said, his voice now carrying a warning.

"What?" she asked innocently, then seemed to realize she was still holding onto his towel. "Oh! Shit, sorry, I—" She released her grip quickly, then immediately pressed her hands flat against the wall behind her to keep from reaching for him again.

Tim's towel stayed mercifully in place, but just barely.

"I should..." Tim gestured toward his room.

"Yes. You should. Before..." Lucy's gaze drifted down his chest again, then snapped back up to his face. "Before I do something that makes this even more complicated."

Tim cocked a brow, "More complicated, how?"

Lucy's smile was wicked. "Let's just say your towel situation is very... precarious right now."

Tim looked down, realized exactly how precarious, and felt his cheeks flush. "Right. Clothes. Good idea."

He started to back toward his room, but Lucy caught his wrist.

"Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"For the record?" Lucy's voice was soft, but her eyes were bright with mischief. "I really like where this is going."

Tim's smile was brilliant. "Good to know. But Chen?"

"Yeah?"

"Next time you want to have a serious conversation about our relationship, maybe wait until I'm wearing more than a towel."

Lucy laughed, the sound bright and free. "Kissing is a serious conversation?"

“Kissing like that will quickly lead us to one.” Tim shook his head, grinning despite himself. "You're going to be trouble, aren't you?"

"The very best kind," Lucy said, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before slipping past him toward her own room. "Sweet dreams, Tim."

Tim watched her go, noting the extra sway in her hips that was obviously intentional, then looked down at his towel and shook his head.

"Trouble," he muttered, but he was smiling as he finally made it to his room.

Chapter Text

The hot water cascaded down Tim's back as he braced one hand against the shower wall, his head dropping forward, water finding new paths along his shoulders, neck and jaw as steam filled the small bathroom. These past few months of living with Lucy were slowly killing him, and last night's hallway make-out session had pushed him well past the breaking point of what any reasonable man could be expected to endure.

He'd barely slept, painfully aware of her just down the hall, narrowly focused on the memory of her hands fisted in his towel, the way she'd made that soft sound when he'd kissed that spot just below her ear. The way they’d pulled back just when things were getting interesting. She was trouble, and as much as he hated it, they had to be smart. 

Smart. 

Right. 

There was nothing smart about the way his body had been reacting to her for months now. Nothing smart about the way he'd started timing his post-workout mornings to coincide with her stumbling into the kitchen in his old LAPD t-shirts, hair messed from sleep, looking like every fantasy he'd never let himself admit to having.

Tim's free hand moved lower, wrapping around himself as he let his mind drift to places it probably shouldn't go. Lucy looked up at him from the weight bench, her legs wrapped around his waist. Lucy in his bed, arching beneath him as he—

"Lucy," he groaned, her name falling from his lips as the hot water pounded against his shoulders.

He could picture her so clearly. The way she'd look spread out on his grey sheets, the expanse of her golden skin radiating, the sounds she'd make when he put his mouth on her, the way she'd say his name when she came apart against his face, on his fingers, and around his…

Fuck. 

All this time of living together, of almost kisses and careful boundaries, of wanting her so desperately it was affecting his ability to think about anything else.

"Fuck," he breathed, his hand moving faster as heat coiled low in his belly. "Lucy, please..."

The fantasy was so vivid he could almost feel her hands on his chest, could almost hear her voice whispering his name the way she had last night when he'd had her pressed against the wall, all breathless and wanting.

His release hit him hard, her name on his lips as he braced himself against the wall, breathing heavily as the hot water washed away the evidence of just how far gone he was for his roommate.

Lucy had only meant to grab Tim’s laundry basket. She was doing laundry anyway, and somehow half her sleepwear had migrated to being his clothes. She'd knocked softly on his bedroom door, heard the shower running, and figured she had a few minutes to grab what she needed.

She grabbed the basket and stopped to rifle through his dresser drawer, looking for yet another soft blue LAPD shirt, when she heard it.

A low moan, muffled by the bathroom door, but unmistakably Tim's voice.

Lucy froze, her hand motionless on the fabric.

Then she heard her name.

"Lucy," came Tim's voice again, rough and desperate, and Lucy felt heat flood her system as understanding hit her.

She should leave. Should grab the shirt and get out before—

"Lucy, please..."

The raw need in his voice made her knees go weak. Lucy found herself leaning back against the bedroom wall, biting her lip hard, and her hand curled around her neck with her free hand, listening to the man she'd been trying not to jump fall apart in the shower while thinking about her.

Her pulse was racing, heat pooling low in her belly as she heard Tim's breathing become more ragged through the thin bathroom door. This was so wrong. She should not be standing in his bedroom listening to him touch himself while moaning her name. 

And she should definitely not be getting turned on by it.

But she was. God help her, she was.

The shower shut off abruptly, and Lucy's eyes widened as she heard Tim moving around in the bathroom. She needed to get out of there before he noticed she’d been in there at all.

Kojo chose that exact moment to barrel past her legs and launch himself onto Tim's bed, tail wagging as he made himself comfortable on the rumpled sheets.

"Kojo, no," Lucy whispered frantically, trying to grab the dog before Tim came out. "Come here, boy. Come on!"

The bathroom door opened.

Lucy spun around to find Tim standing in the doorway, towel slung low around his hips, water still dripping from his hair. His chest was flushed from the hot water.

How could he possibly look hotter than he did last night? 

Hearing him pleasure himself while calling your name will do that, Lucy. 

Don’t make eye contact. 

Lower your head and duck out. 

Shit. 

When his eyes met hers, she saw the exact moment he realized she'd been in his room the whole time.

"I can explain," Lucy said quickly, gesturing helplessly at Kojo, who was now happily destroying Tim's pillow. "I was just grabbing laundry, and then Kojo—"

"How long have you been in here?" Tim asked, his voice not revealing his amusement and embarrassment.

Lucy's cheeks burned. "Not... not long. I was just—" She caught the look in Tim's eyes, and her voice trailed off.

He knew. Somehow, he knew exactly how long she'd been there.

"We keep meeting like this," Lucy said teasingly, trying for humour as she tugged unsuccessfully at Kojo's collar.

"What, you in my bedroom while I'm half-naked?" Tim's voice was rough, and Lucy could see the control he was exerting over himself.

"I was going to say you freshly showered wearing only a towel, but your version works too." Lucy was still trying to wrestle Kojo off the bed, keenly aware of Tim standing there watching her, water droplets still sliding down his chest. "One of these days, I'm just going to pull that towel off and run."

The words slipped out before she could stop them, and the temperature in the room seemed to spike ten degrees.

Tim was very still. "No, you won't."

"I won't?" Lucy's voice came out breathier than intended.

"No," Tim said, stepping closer, his eyes never leaving her face. "You'd stick around to see what happened next."

Lucy felt her breath catch as he moved into her space, close enough that she could see droplets of water clinging to his collarbone, could smell his soap and shampoo.

"Tim," she whispered.

"Yeah?"

She was staring at his mouth, at the way his lips parted slightly as his breathing became uneven. "We are going to take this slow."

"This is slow," Tim replied. "For me, this is torture."

Lucy's resolve crumbled a little more. She wanted him so badly that she was reduced to eavesdropping on his shower fantasies.

"I heard you," she admitted quietly.

"What?"

"In the shower. I heard... I heard you say my name."

The admission hung between them, loaded. Lucy watched as Tim's jaw clenched, as something dark and hungry flickered in his eyes.

"Lucy," he said, his voice rough.

"I should have left," she continued, unable to stop now that she'd started. "But I didn't. I stood here and listened, and I..."

"And you what?"

Lucy bit her lip, her cheeks burning. "And I liked it. It was hot."

The final threads of Tim’s control frayed at her admission. He stepped forward, backing her against the bedroom wall, as he leaned down until they were breathing the same air.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he rasped. "What these past few months have been like, living with you, wanting you, trying to be a roommate while you walk around wearing my clothes?"

Lucy's pulse was racing. "Tim..."

"Last night in the hall," he continued, "when we kissed, when you let me touch you... I barely slept. I kept thinking about how you felt, how you tasted, what would have happened if we hadn't stopped."

"We stopped for good reasons," Lucy said weakly, though she made no move to push him away.

"Yeah? What reasons were those?"

"Our friendship. Our careers. The fact that we work and live together."

"Bullshit," Tim said softly. "We stopped because you're scared."

Lucy's eyes flashed. "I'm not scared."

"You are. And you know what? So am I." Tim's admission was quiet, honest. "I'm terrified that if we do this, if we cross that line, something will go wrong and I'll lose you. But I'm more terrified that if we don't, I'll lose you anyway."

Lucy stared up at him, seeing her own fears reflected in his eyes. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying maybe we should stop dancing around what’s happening."

Before Lucy could respond, her phone rang from somewhere in the living room.

"Ignore it," Tim commanded.

"I can't," Lucy said reluctantly. "What if it's work?"

Tim stepped back with obvious reluctance, and Lucy immediately missed his warmth. She hurried to the living room, grabbing her phone from the coffee table.

Chris.

Lucy glanced back at Tim, who was watching from the bedroom doorway, and answered the call.

"Hey Chris," she said, trying to sound normal despite the fact that her pulse was still racing.

"Lucy, hey. Listen, I'm really sorry, but I have to cancel tonight. Work emergency."

Lucy felt a wave of relief so strong it nearly made her knees buckle. "Oh, that's... actually, Chris, I was going to call you anyway."

"Yeah?" There was something knowing in his voice.

"I think... I think we should just be friends," Lucy said, glancing at Tim, who looked like a statue, an expertly chiselled statue,  in the doorway. "You're a great guy, but my heart's not really in this."

Lucy's cheeks burned. "Uh…"

"It's okay, Lucy. I could tell on our date that your mind was somewhere else. Or maybe on someone else. I mean, you did talk about your roommate a lot." He paused. "I hope it works out for you. Really."

"Thank you," Lucy said softly. "That's... that's really kind of you."

"Take care of yourself, Lucy. And the lucky guy, he'd better treat you right."

The line went dead, and Lucy stared at her phone for a moment before looking up at Tim.

"Well," she said weakly. "That was easier than expected."

Tim's expression was unreadable. "He knew?"

"I guess I'm not as subtle as I thought I was."

"About what specifically?"

Lucy bit her lip. "About being completely gone for someone else."

Something shifted in Tim's eyes, but before he could respond, Lucy's phone rang again.

Angela. Of course.

"Hey," Lucy answered, slightly breathless.

"Did I interrupt something?" Angela's voice was amused. "You sound... flustered."

Lucy glanced back toward the bedroom, where she could hear Tim getting dressed. "What do you need, Angela?"

"Dinner tonight. You, me, Wesley, and Tim. I made reservations at Giovanni’s for seven."

"Angela, I…"

"This isn't a request, Lucy. You two have been dancing around each other for months, and frankly, it's painful to watch. Time for an intervention."

Lucy closed her eyes. "We're not."

"Don't even try to deny it. I have eyes, Lucy. The only people who seem oblivious to what's going on are you and Tim."

Little does Angela know. 

"It's complicated," Lucy said quietly.

"It doesn't have to be. Dinner. Seven o'clock. Don't make me come get you."

Angela hung up, and Lucy stared at her phone in disbelief.

"Angela?" Tim asked, emerging from the bedroom fully dressed.

"She wants to have dinner tonight. All of us. She says it's an intervention."

Tim ran a hand through his damp hair, annoyed. "Of course she does."

"Tim," Lucy said carefully, "about what just happened—"

"We don't have to talk about it right now," Tim interrupted gently. "But Lucy? We're going to talk about it. Soon."

Lucy nodded, her pulse still racing from their encounter. "Okay."

"And Lucy? Next time you want to listen to me in the shower, just ask. I'll put on a show."

Lucy's mouth fell open as Tim grabbed his keys and wallet, completely unbothered by his own boldness.

"We're going to be late for our shift," he said casually, as if he hadn't just rendered her speechless.

As Lucy followed him toward the door, she realized that Angela might be right. Maybe it was time to face all of this head-on.

The question was whether they were both brave enough to see where it led.

By the time they got home from their shift, the tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife. Lucy disappeared into her room to get ready for dinner while Tim tried and failed to concentrate on anything other than the sound of her moving around down the hall.

When Lucy emerged forty-five minutes later wearing a black dress that hugged her curves and heels emphasized her calves, Tim forgot how to breathe.

"Is this okay for Giovanni's?" Lucy asked, doing a little turn that nearly killed him.

"It's..." Tim swallowed hard. "Yeah. It's perfect."

Lucy smiled, pleased with his reaction. "Good. So, are we going to tell Angela what's happening between us?"

"What’s happening between us?" Tim asked, moving closer.

"Well," Lucy said, stepping into his space, "this morning you were moaning my name in the shower, and I was eavesdropping like a freak."

"You weren't a freak," Tim said, his hands finding her waist. "You were interested."

"Very interested," Lucy admitted, her eyes darkening. "So what do we tell Angela?"

"The truth?"

"Which is?"

Tim's hands tightened on her waist. "That we're completely gone for each other and trying to figure out what to do about it."

"And if she pushes for details?"

Tim's grin was wicked. "We tell her you're a freak who likes to eavesdrop?"

Lucy's eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

"This morning," Tim said, leaning down until his mouth was almost touching her ear, "when you were listening to me in the shower, all day, all I could think about was you touching yourself while you listened."

Lucy's cheeks burned. "I did not—"

"I bet you did," Tim interrupted, his voice rough. "And it makes me wonder what sounds you make. What you'd sound like if I put my mouth on you. What you'd sound like when you come apart for me."

Lucy's knees went weak. "Tim..."

"What, Lucy?"

Instead of answering, she fisted her hands in his shirt and pulled him down for a desperate kiss, a culmination of all of the gentle touches and innuendo they’d danced around all shift. Tim responded immediately, backing her against the wall and kissing her like his life depended on it.

Lucy moaned into his mouth, her hands tangling in his hair, and Tim realized he'd been right, she wasn't quiet at all.

"We should..." Lucy gasped against his mouth, "We should go. Angela..."

"Angela can wait," Tim said, his mouth moving to her neck, finding a spot that made her arch against him.

"Tim, we can't be late. She'll know." Lucy's protest turned into a soft gasp as Tim sucked gently on her pulse point.

"She already knows," Tim murmured against her skin.

Lucy's phone buzzed with a text, and she reluctantly pushed against Tim's chest. "We really should go."

Tim pulled back, taking in her kiss-swollen lips and dishevelled hair. "You look thoroughly kissed."

"Good thing it's Angela and not Grey," Lucy said, trying to smooth her hair.

"Good thing," Tim agreed, though his eyes were still dark with want.

The drive to Giovanni's was filled with a different kind of tension. Tim's hands were gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly, and Lucy could practically feel his nervousness radiating from the driver's seat.

"You're worried about Angela," Lucy observed.

"I'm not worried," Tim deflected automatically.

"You are. Your jaw is doing that twitchy thing it does when you're stressed."

Tim's jaw twitched again, proving her point. "It's not twitching."

Lucy laughed. "It totally is. What are you so worried about? That she's going to interrogate us? Ask for details?"

"All of the above!”

"Well," Lucy said thoughtfully, wanting to take his mind off his nerves, "maybe we should update the roommate agreement after this morning."

Tim glanced at her. "What kind of update?"

"Something about eavesdropping roommates," Lucy said innocently. "Seems like we need some ground rules about what happens when someone overhears their roommate... indulging in private activities."

Tim's grip on the steering wheel tightened, and he snickered. "What kind of ground rules?"

Lucy's grin was pure evil. "I don't know. What do you think would be fair?"

Tim was quiet for a moment. "If you eavesdrop on something like that, you should be required to present yourself for participation."

Lucy's breath caught, and her eyebrows raised at his boldness. "Present myself for participation?"

"Seems only fair," Tim said, his voice carefully casual despite the heat in his eyes. "You want to listen? You should be prepared to join in."

"That's..." Lucy swallowed hard. "That's a very thorough amendment to the roommate agreement."

"I'm nothing if not thorough, Chen."

Lucy stared at him, heat pooling low in her belly at the promise in his voice. "Good to know."

Tim pulled into the restaurant parking lot, but neither of them made a move to get out of the truck. The air between them was charged, electric with promise.

"Lucy," Tim said quietly.

"Yeah?"

“What the hell are we doing? We can’t go in there tonight with her. We’ve been trying to have a conversation. To talk about all the things we haven’t been talking about.” Tim huffed out a breath. 

“Okay? Say more.” Lucy encouraged.

“I just mean we know what’s happening between us is important, but we keep touching and getting distracted. I love the distraction, but if we are serious about this, about us , I want us to talk about it. Really talk before she ever gets a run at us.”

Lucy sat, stunned by his protectiveness of their undefined relationship.

“Take me home, Tim. I’ll text her.” 

Lucy: I know I said we’d join you, but your request has prompted a deeper conversation. I’ll catch you up later. 

A few moments passed before Lucy heard her text notification echo over the sound of the tires on pavement and the low music drifting through the cab of the truck.

Angela: My first child-free night out in months and…maybe there is a silver lining. Jack is at Patrice’s. This conversation isn’t over, but for now, the point goes to Chenford. 

Lucy: Not over. Just not now. Also, Chenford? Huh. Good night, Lovers. (wink)  

Chapter Text

The house felt different when they walked through the front door. Maybe it was the weight of the conversation they were about to have, or maybe it was the fact that they'd just chosen each other over Angela's well-meaning interference, but the air between them hummed with something new. Something that felt like possibility laced with the terror of taking a leap.

Tim set his keys on the counter, the small sound echoing in the quiet space. Lucy kicked off her heels, immediately losing three inches of height, and Tim found himself noticing how the gesture made her seem younger, more vulnerable somehow.

"Do you want some wine?" Lucy asked, already moving toward the kitchen. "I feel like this conversation might go better with wine."

"Yeah," Tim said, loosening his tie. "Wine sounds good."

Lucy pulled a bottle of red from the cabinet, something decent that Wesley had brought over weeks ago, and Tim watched her struggle with the cork for a moment before gently taking the bottle from her hands.

"You're nervous," he observed, working the cork free easily.

"Terrified," Lucy admitted in a rush, accepting the glass he poured for her. "You?"

"Same." Tim poured his own glass, then leaned against the counter opposite her. "But also... relieved. We've been avoiding this conversation."

Lucy took a sip of wine, studying his face over the rim of her glass. "You said in the truck that you've been thinking about this. About us. How long?"

Tim was quiet for a moment, considering how honest he wanted to be in this moment. Then he decided that if they were going to have this conversation, he might as well go all in.

"Honestly? Since you moved in. I mean, after I saw those sex toys rolling across the floor–” he winced, anticipating the slap that was inevitably coming for him. 

Lucy hit his bicep with a loud twack, “Tim!”

“I’m sorry, I saw the opening and…” 

Lucy held up her hand to stop him. “Don’t apologize, or you will ruin a perfectly good burn.” Her lips turned up in a mirthful grin. “So you were saying?”

Tim shook his head as his laugh faded. “So yeah, uh, about a month after you moved in," he said. "Maybe longer. But that's when I stopped being able to pretend it was just... proximity."

Lucy's eyes widened slightly. "A month? Tim, that was—"

"Three months ago, I know." Tim ran a hand through his hair, messing up the careful styling from dinner. "Trust me, I'm aware of how long I've been losing my mind over this."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because you're my aide. Because we work together. Because mixing personal and professional is a recipe for disaster." Tim took a long sip of wine. "Because I was terrified you didn't feel the same way, and if I was wrong, I'd lose what we did have."

Lucy set down her wine glass with a soft clink. "And now?"

"Now I'm terrified you do feel the same way, and I still might lose you if we can't figure out how to make this work professionally."

The honesty in his voice made Lucy's chest tight. She’d only ever seen Tim vulnerable a few times in the years she’s known him, but never this openly uncertain about anything. It was unsettling and incredibly attractive at the same time.

"Tim," she said softly, "what do you think we should do?"

Tim straightened, and Lucy could see him shifting into tactical mode. "I've been thinking about this for weeks. There are options."

"Options?"

"I could transfer. Request a different position, different shift. Get out of your chain of command."

Lucy stared at him. "You'd transfer? Tim, you love Mid-Wilshire. You've been there for years."

"I care about you more."

The words hung in the air between them, simple and devastating. Lucy felt her breath catch. Suddenly, this felt tangible in a way their stolen kisses hadn’t.

"Tim..."

"Before you panic or overthink it or try to find reasons why this won't work, just... let me finish," Tim said, his voice rough.

Lucy nodded, not trusting her voice.

"I've been looking into it," Tim continued. "Quietly. There are a few options that would work. I could also apply for a promotion that would move me out of patrol entirely. Detective, Metro, something that would get me out of the field and away from…you."

"You want to leave patrol?" Lucy's voice was small, shocked.

"I want to be with you," Tim corrected. "Everything else is negotiable."

Lucy felt tears prick her eyes. "Tim, I know you have the best of intentions, but let’s give this some time. Figure us out first. Then, maybe I can find another path that takes me out of your chain of command. Lucy paused then, taking a breath, letting the weight of their conversation sink in. 

"I’m worried. What if we try this and it's a disaster? What if we're better as friends and co-workers than we would be as... whatever this is?" Lucy gestured between them.

Tim set down his wine and moved close enough that Lucy tilted her head back to meet his eyes. "Then we figure it out. But Lucy, what if it does work? What if we're incredible together? Are we going to let fear keep us from finding out?"

Lucy leaned into his touch, her eyes closing briefly. "This is scary."

"It is," Tim admitted. "But I'm more scared of not trying. Of looking back in five years and wondering what would have happened if we'd been brave enough to take the risk."

Lucy opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. "What about in the meantime? While we’re figuring out the work situation?"

"We can, I mean," Tim said, his voice dropping lower. "We could keep this quiet. Date in secret while we think about the best way to navigate work. It's not ideal, but it would give us time to figure out if this works without the whole station watching our every move."

"Secret dating," Lucy repeated, trying the words out. "How secret are we talking?"

Tim's grin was slow and wicked. "Well, we're already living together. No one would think twice about us spending time together, going places together. We'd just have to be careful about... other things."

"Other things?"

"Touching you the way I want to touch you. Kissing you the way I want to kiss you." Tim's voice was getting rougher, his thumb still tracing patterns on her skin. "Taking you to bed and keeping you there for hours."

Lucy's breath hitched. "Tim..."

"What do you think?" Tim asked, leaning down until their foreheads were almost touching. "Think you could handle dating me in secret for a few months?"

Lucy went quiet, and Tim could practically see her working through everything, weighing the risks and benefits the way she did with everything else.

"What about at work?" she asked finally. "Could you handle being professional with me during the day and then... not professional with me at night?" She didn’t even try to hide the flush in her cheeks at the thought of not being professional at night. 

"I've been doing it for months already," Tim pointed out. "The only difference would be that I'd actually get to touch you when we got home."

"And if someone finds out? If we slip up?"

"Then we deal with it," Tim said. "Together. But Lucy, people see what they expect to see. We're already living together; you are my aide. As long as we're careful, no one's going to assume anything's changed."

Lucy bit her lip, considering. "How long will it take to get you out of my chain of command once we start making moves?"

"A few months, maybe less if I push for it. I've already had some informal conversations with guys I know in other divisions. It's not impossible."

Lucy stared at him, amazement shining in her eyes. "You've already been having conversations?"

"I told you, I've been thinking about this for weeks." Tim's hand slipped to the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair. "I'm not going into this blind, Lucy. I know what I want, and I know what I'm willing to do to get it."

"And what you want is me?"

"What I want is us," Tim corrected. "You and me, figuring this out together. No more boundaries, no more pretending we don't want each other. Just... us."

Lucy felt a wall that had been carefully constructed over months of living together finally begin to crumble. "Okay."

Tim blinked. "Okay?"

"Okay, let's try it. The secret dating thing." Lucy's smile was tremulous but real. "But Tim, if this goes sideways."

"It won't," Tim said with quiet confidence.

"But if it does?"

"Then we'll figure it out," Tim repeated, his hands framing her face. "Lucy, I promise you, whatever happens, you're not going to lose me, and I'm not going to lose you. Not over this."

Lucy searched his face, looking for any sign of doubt or uncertainty. She found none. Tim Bradford, the man who never made promises he couldn't keep, was looking at her like she was the most important thing in his world, and that made her breathless.

"Okay," she said again, more firmly this time. "Let's do this."

Tim's smile was brilliant, transforming his entire face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Lucy beamed, excitement starting to replace fear. "But we're going to need rules."

"Rules?"

"Ground rules. For the secret dating thing."

Tim's expression grew amused. "Of course you want to make a list."

"I don't want to make a list," Lucy protested. "I want to make sure we're on the same page about what this looks like."

"Alright," Tim said, his hands sliding down to rest on her waist. "What kind of rules are we talking about?"

“Like we just said, professional and private at work, and checking in with each other’s boundaries at home.”

“Sure. Yeah. I think that works for now. Besides, I like the idea of not sharing you with the world just yet.”Tim leaned down, his mouth almost touching her ear. "What other rules?"

Lucy was having trouble concentrating with him this close, with his hands on her waist and his voice rough in her ear. "Um... no staying overnight in each other's rooms while we're keeping this secret."

Tim pulled back to look at her. "Why not?"

"Because we live together, Tim. If we start sleeping in the same bed, someone's going to notice. 

"Fair point," Tim conceded. "Though I should point out that sneaking into each other's rooms is going to be incredibly difficult when we're this keyed up for each other."

"We'll manage," Lucy said, though she didn't sound entirely convinced.

"What else?"

"If we tell anyone anything more, it’s only Angela. No one else until we get work sorted."

"Agreed." Tim paused. "Though I reserve the right to tell Angela to back off if she starts pushing us too hard."

“You think you can do that?”

"I can be very convincing when I want to be."

Lucy smiled. "Okay. Anything else we should establish?"

Tim’s expression grew more serious. "Lucy, if at any point this gets too complicated, if you decide it's not worth the risk, you need to tell me. I don't want you feeling trapped or like you can't change your mind."

The gentleness in his voice made Lucy's heart swell. "The same goes for you. If you decide the work stuff is too complicated, if you change your mind about any of this, Tim–"

"I won't," Tim interrupted firmly. "Lucy, I need you to understand something. This isn't some casual thing for me. I'm not going to wake up tomorrow and decide it's too hard or too complicated. This is... this matters to me. You matter to me."

Lucy felt her breath catch. "Tim..."

"I'm completely gone for you, embarrassingly, head-over-heels gone for you. And I need you to know that before we do this, before we start down this path. Because I don't want there to be any confusion."

Lucy stared at him, her heart hammering. She'd known, on some level, that his feelings ran deep. But hearing him say it, seeing the vulnerability in his eyes as he laid himself bare, was overwhelming.

"I'm gone for you too," she whispered, the words barely audible but Tim heard them anyway.

His smile was soft, relieved. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Lucy's voice was stronger now, more certain. "Completely gone for you, Tim. Even when you're being impossibly stubborn and overprotective and making me want to throw things at your head."

Tim laughed, the sound rich and warm. "Good thing you have terrible aim."

"Hey! I’m Mid-Wilshire shooting champ!" Lucy protested, but she was laughing too.

Tim's hands slid up to frame her face again, his thumbs brushing away tears she didn't realize had fallen. "So we're doing this?"

"We're doing this," Lucy confirmed. "Secret dating," Lucy paused, her expression growing thoughtful. "But Tim, what happens to the roommate agreement now?” 

Tim raised an eyebrow. "You want to document our secret relationship?"

"No, I want to void the roommate agreement.”

“I worked hard on that!” 

“But we will be more than roommates,” Lucy’s eyes glistened with mischief. 

Tim nodded, his voice gentle when he answered. "Whatever you want, Lucy. We go at your pace, with your rules. I'm not going to push for anything you're not ready for."

"And if I want to take things slow?"

"Then we take things slow," Tim said simply. "Lucy, I'm willing to wait as long as you need. For all of it. The transfer, the naked time, whatever timeline you're comfortable with."

Lucy stifled a laugh, “Naked time?”

Tim looked at her sheepishly, his cheeks suddenly pink. 

"I think that's smart, taking things slow, that is. I can wait as long as you want for naked time," Tim agreed with a light chuckle. 

"Good." Lucy snickered as her smile turned mischievous. "In that case, I think we should seal the deal."

"Seal the deal how?"

Instead of answering, Lucy rose on her toes and kissed him, slow and deep. She melted into him, her hands fisting in his shirt as he kissed her back with everything he had.

This time, there were no interruptions. No phones ringing, no dog barking, no well-meaning friends demanding their attention. Just Tim's hands in her hair and Lucy's arms around his neck, and the feeling that they were finally allowed to want each other without holding back.

Tim backed her toward the couch, his mouth never leaving hers, and Lucy went willingly, her heart racing as they tumbled onto the cushions together. Tim's hands roamed her back, up her sides, everywhere he could reach, while Lucy's fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt.

"God, Lucy," Tim groaned against her mouth when she got his shirt open, her hands exploring the planes of his chest.

"I know," Lucy gasped, arching into him as his mouth moved to her neck. 

Tim’s breath was hot against her neck. “I’ve always wondered, is your neck more sensitive here, because of your tattoo?” He watched as goosebumps erupted along her skin before he pressed his tongue flat against the column of her neck, licking up in one long torturous stroke. 

Lucy’s eyes rolled back in her head, whispering a strangled, “Yes.”

Tim's hands found the end of the tie of her wrap dress, and Lucy nodded breathlessly as he slowly pulled it. The black dress opened for him like a present, fabric pooled around her waist, leaving her in just a black lace bra that emptied Tim’s mind of all coherent thought.

"Beautiful," he murmured, his hands skimming over newly exposed skin, and Lucy felt heat continue to pool between them at the reverence in his voice.

Her hands were busy pushing his shirt off his shoulders, and when they were both half-naked on the couch, breathing hard and desperate for each other, Lucy felt her resolve waver.

It would be so easy to let this continue, to let Tim carry her to his bed the way she'd been fantasizing about. But the rational part of her brain, the part that had kept them both safe and employed for the past four months, finally reasserted itself.

"Taking things slow, remember?" she said breathlessly, even as her hands continued their exploration of his chest.

Tim froze, his breathing ragged. For a moment, Lucy thought he might argue, might try to convince her that they'd waited long enough. But then he pulled back, his eyes dark but understanding.

"Right," he said, his voice rough. "Slow."

Lucy could see the effort it took for him to stop, to respect the boundary she'd just set, and it made her want him even more. "Tim..."

"No, you're right," Tim said, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. "We agreed. No rushing into anything."

He gently placed his hands on her hips and moved her over, then stood up abruptly, grabbing his shirt from the floor. "I'm going to take Kojo for a run. Burn off some of this... energy."

Lucy watched him put his shirt back on, noting the way his hands shook slightly as he buttoned it. "Tim, you don't have to go."

"Yeah, I do," Tim said with a rueful smile. "Unless you want me to spend the next hour trying very hard not to touch you, where we both want me to touch you, while we're both half-naked on the couch."

Lucy felt her cheeks burn. "Good point."

"I'll be back in an hour," Tim said, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her forehead. "Try not to think too hard while I'm gone."

"No promises," Lucy said, but she was smiling.

After Tim left with an excited Kojo, Lucy sat on the couch in her dress, processing what had just happened. They were doing this. Secret dating, the whole complicated mess of trying to navigate a relationship while working together.

But as she thought about the way Tim had looked at her, the way he'd been willing to stop the moment she asked, the way he'd promised to wait as long as she needed, Lucy realized she didn't want to wait.

She wanted him. Desperately. But she also knew that waiting until he wasn't technically her boss was the smart thing to do. 

The safe thing to do.

Even if it was going to kill her.

An hour later, Tim returned looking slightly less wound up but no less gorgeous. His hair was mussed from the run, his t-shirt clinging to his chest, and Lucy had to resist the urge to drag him back to the couch.

"Better?" she asked from the kitchen, where she was cleaning up their wine glasses.

"Marginally," Tim replied, refilling Kojo's water bowl. "How are you doing?"

"Good. Thinking about that voided roommate agreement."

"Oh yeah, gonna blast some music and wear shoes in the house?"

"Maybe," Lucy admitted with a grin.

They moved through their nighttime routine with new awareness, everything feeling charged despite their agreement to take things slow. When Lucy emerged from the bathroom after brushing her teeth, wearing nothing but lacy white panties and one of Tim's old Rams t-shirts, Tim stopped dead in the hallway.

"Fuck, Lucy," he breathed, his eyes darkening as they travelled over her body.

Lucy looked down at herself, suddenly self-conscious. "What? It's just pyjamas."

"That," Tim said, his voice rough, "is exactly why I was calling your name in the shower this morning."

Lucy's cheeks burned, but she couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips. "Sorry for being such a turn-on?"

"Don't apologize," Tim said, stepping closer. "I like your particular brand of torture."

"Tim..." Lucy's voice was warning, but her body was already responding to his proximity.

"I know," Tim said, his hands coming up to rest on her hips. "Slow. But Lucy, you have to know that seeing you like this, in my clothes, in my house... It's everything."

Lucy looked up at him, seeing the want in his eyes warring with the careful control he was maintaining. "I want you too," she said quietly. "Just as much. But I really think we should wait until you're not my boss."

Tim nodded, though his hands tightened slightly on her hips. "You're right. It's the smart thing to do."

"The smart thing," Lucy agreed, though she made no move to step away from him.

"Right," Tim said, but he was leaning down, his forehead almost touching hers.

"Right," Lucy whispered back.

They stood there for a moment, both of them breathing hard, both fighting the urge to forget about being smart and taking it slow.

Finally, Tim stepped back. "Good night, Lucy."

"Good night, Tim."

Lucy disappeared into her room, and Tim headed to his, both of them acutely aware of how thin the walls were, how close they were to each other, how much they wanted what they'd agreed to wait for.

Lucy lay in bed for twenty minutes, staring at the ceiling and trying to convince her body to calm down. When that failed, she reached for her phone.

Tim's phone pinged. You still awake? 

Tim quickly replied. Aren’t you in bed? 

Lucy smiled. I am. All tucked into my bed . 

Tim thought it odd that she was texting him from bed, but he’d play along. Is everything okay?

Lucy shifted in her bed. The heat in her cheeks forced her to kick a leg outside of the covers. Everything is fine, I’ve just been thinking, I can’t stop thinking about…what you were thinking about in the shower. Will you tell me? 

Lucy…

You said I could ask you to put on a show next time, but I was thinking... maybe we don't have to wait for next time.

Tim swallowed hard. Feeling blood rush south. What are you saying?

I'm saying maybe we found a loophole .  Lucy typed back, her free hand sliding down her body. I didn't say we couldn't have fun in the meantime.

I’m saying maybe we found a loophole. I didn’t say we couldn’t have fun in the meantime.

Lucy felt her pulse quicken at her brazenness and hoped Tim was on board for a little fun. 

She continued. Tell me what you were thinking about this morning. Tell me what you wanted to do to me. 

Tim’s fingers hovered over the keypad on his phone as he thought about how he’d imagined her, pressed against the tile in the shower. How she moaned his name. His hands were trembling as he recalled how many times he’d had showers like that recently. 

Lucy watched the dots appear and disappear at her request. When a few moments passed and Tim hadn’t replied, she worried that she’d made him uncomfortable. Had she taken it too far, too soon? After she’d been the one asking to take things slow, she thought she could set the pace for things like this. Her heart was racing, but now it wasn’t because she was burning with desire; it was panic. 

She had just swung her legs around in bed, planting her feet on the floor, when her phone vibrated in her hand. 

Lucy, if you keep texting me things like that, I'm going to be at your door in about thirty seconds, and we both know where that leads.

Lucy pushed out a breath of relief. Is that a threat or a promise?

This woman. She’s always pushing. Testing him. Guess it’s payback. 

It's a warning. Because once I'm in that room with you, I'm not leaving until morning. And we agreed to take this slow.

So what are you saying?

Tim sat up in bed, carding his fingers through his hair.

I'm saying save those thoughts for when we're ready to act on them. Because reading about what you want me to do to you while you're twenty feet away and I can't touch you is its own special kind of torture.

You win this round, Tim. Point taken. Rain check?

As much as he wanted to throw caution to the wind, he wanted to do this right. 

Biggest rain check in history.

Chapter Text

Lucy woke to the sound of Tim's alarm and the memory of their late-night text exchange sending heat straight through her core. They'd agreed to secret dating, to taking things slow while they waited for the right moment to go public and figure out work, but apparently "slow" didn't mean ignoring the sexual tension that was sparking and crackling between them.

Alternative communication methods, she thought with a grin, remembering Tim's suggestion about staying in touch when they weren't working the same shift. If last night's texts were any indication, they were going to combust long before Tim managed to get out of her chain of command.

The decision to acknowledge what had happened was made for her when she padded to the living room and stopped dead in her tracks. Tim's coffee table had been completely transformed, with two thick cushions positioned on either side, and what looked suspiciously like a tea ceremony in progress.

But this wasn't the careful, traditional setup she'd shown him before. This was distinctly Tim's interpretation: a Japanese-style bamboo tray held a cast-iron teapot she'd never seen before, two small bowls that looked handmade, and a small plate of what appeared to be homemade pastries.

Tim emerged from the kitchen carrying a thermos, still in his sleep clothes. Those low-slung sweatpants that made her mouth go dry, and froze when he saw her staring.

"You're up early," he said, and Lucy caught the hint of uncertainty beneath his casual tone.

"Tim, what is this?" Lucy gestured at the setup, taking in the details that made her chest tight. The teapot was beautiful, clearly expensive, and not something he'd owned yesterday.

"I may have made a trip to that tea shop in Chinatown," Tim admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "The woman there was very... thorough in her recommendations."

Lucy moved closer, noting how he'd arranged everything with precision, but also with obvious care. "You went shopping for tea supplies? Alone?"

"The shop owner's daughter was working late, restocking. I explained what I was trying to do and she..." Tim trailed off, his ears going slightly pink. "She may have gotten a little carried away helping me pick things out."

"What did you tell her you were trying to do?" Lucy asked, settling onto one of the cushions, hyperaware of how the position put her at eye level with the waist of Tim’s low-slung joggers.

Tim settled across from her, the coffee table suddenly feeling much smaller than before. "That I wanted to surprise someone important to me with something meaningful to them."

The honesty of it hit Lucy harder than any grand romantic gesture could have. This wasn't Tim trying to impress her with expensive things; this was Tim paying attention, trying to speak her language.

"She sold you a yixing teapot," Lucy said, running her fingers over the clay surface. "These are traditional, made specifically for certain types of tea."

"She said this one was good for oolong. That it would make the tea taste better over time as it absorbed the oils." Tim's voice was careful, like he was reciting something he'd memorized. "She also said sharing tea like this is supposed to be about being present with each other, not just the meditation part."

Lucy felt heat bloom in her chest with the realization that Tim had spent his downtime learning about something that mattered to her, not because he had to, but because she mattered to him.

"And the pastries?" she asked, noting the small, perfectly formed treats.

"Those I made," Tim said, and now he definitely looked embarrassed. "Nothing fancy. Just those almond cookies you mentioned liking. The recipe wasn't that complicated."

Lucy stared at him. "You baked?"

“I did. I was a little surprised you didn’t wake up from the smell of them baking at 4:30.”

Lucy bit back a smile as she watched him pour the tea with careful concentration, his movements deliberate and focused.

"The water temperature?" she asked.

"185 degrees. I tested it twice." Tim handed her a cup, their fingers brushing in the exchange. "The shop owner's daughter was very specific about that."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, cradling their cups, both focused on the intimacy of the setting. The morning light filtered through Tim's windows, casting everything in soft gold, and Lucy found herself studying his face as he tasted the tea.

"Good?" she asked.

"Different than I expected," Tim said, his eyes meeting hers over the rim of his cup. "Stronger. More complex."

"The clay changes the flavour profile," Lucy explained, but her voice came out softer than intended. "It's supposed to enhance the natural characteristics of the tea."

"Like how being around you enhances everything else," Tim said quietly.

Lucy's breath caught. "Tim..."

"I know this isn't exactly how you taught me," Tim continued, setting down his cup and leaning slightly forward. "But I wanted to try it my way. With you."

"Your way?"

"Less meditation, more... appreciation." Tim's eyes were dark, focused entirely on her. "Of this moment. Of you being here, in the living room, letting me try to do something that matters to you."

The air between them shifted, becoming charged with something heavier than morning peace. Lucy set down her cup.

"Appreciation," Lucy repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Lucy," Tim said, his voice rough. "I need you to know that this—us—it's not just about wanting you. Though I do. Want you. But this is about..." He gestured at the tea setup, then at the space between them. "About learning how to be worthy of you."

Before Lucy could respond to that devastating admission, Kojo wandered into the living room, tail wagging, clearly expecting his morning routine.

"Rain check on the appreciation?" Tim asked, his voice carrying a promise that made Lucy's stomach flip.

"Rain check," Lucy agreed, though she was already anticipating whatever came next. "But Tim? This was perfect. Your way is perfect."

Tim's smile was brilliant as he stood, offering her his hand. "Come on. Let's walk, Kojo, and I can tell you what other research I did last night."

Lucy took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet, and decided that Tim Bradford's version of romance was going to be the death of her.

In the very best way.

The following day, Tim had been called in for OT at 2 AM for a multi-vehicle accident that turned into a crime scene when they found drugs in one of the cars. By the time he'd finished the paperwork and debriefing, it was nearly noon, and he'd stumbled home exhausted, managing only to kick off his boots before collapsing face-first onto his bed.

Lucy, blissfully unaware of his late return, had been enjoying her day off. She'd tackled the living room with her headphones cranked up, wearing ripped denim shorts and one of Tim's t-shirts knotted at her hip.

Tim emerged from his bedroom hours later, drawn by the faint thump of bass. His brain was still foggy from sleep deprivation, his usual filters completely offline. When he found Lucy swaying to music only she could hear, completely absorbed in cleaning, his first coherent thought was how stunning she looked.

She straightened and spun around to tackle the coffee table, the hem of his shirt riding up to reveal that strip of skin that was quickly becoming his obsession. Tim's hands clenched at his sides as he watched her move, every nerve ending suddenly awake despite his exhaustion.

When Lucy bent over the coffee table, still swaying to the music, Tim's remaining self-control evaporated. Sleep deprivation had demolished every filter he possessed, and almost without conscious thought, he moved behind her, his hands settling on her hips with possessive authority.

Lucy shrieked, spinning around so fast she nearly clipped Tim's nose with her elbow. Her headphones went flying, and she found herself pressed between the coffee table and six feet of rumpled, half-awake Tim.

"Jeeze, Tim!" she gasped, her hand pressed to her racing heart. "You scared the hell out of me!"

Tim blinked slowly, like he was still processing being vertical. His hair was sticking up at odd angles, his t-shirt was wrinkled beyond salvation, and he had a slightly glazed look that should have been unattractive but somehow made Lucy's stomach flip. This was Tim with all his careful control dismantled by exhaustion, and it was devastatingly appealing.

"Sorry," he mumbled, but he didn't step back. If anything, he seemed to be leaning closer, his hands still resting on her hips like he'd forgotten they were there. "Heard music. Came to investigate."

"Investigate?" Lucy's voice came out softer than intended. "That's your story?"

"Mmm." Tim's thumbs were tracing small circles against her hip bones through the thin fabric of her shorts, and Lucy wondered if he was even aware he was doing it. "Also, you're wearing very little clothing."

"It's my day off," she said, trying for defensive but landing somewhere closer to inviting. "I'm allowed to be comfortable in my own home."

"Your home," Tim repeated, something shifting in his sleep-hazed expression. "I like the sound of that."

The words hung between them, loaded with meaning. Lucy was acutely aware of how they were positioned, her back against the table, Tim caging her in with his body, his hands warm and possessive on her hips.

"You should be sleeping," she said quietly, though she made no move to escape his hold.

"Should be," Tim agreed, but instead of stepping back, he shifted closer. "But then I heard you singing."

"And I remembered how much I like listening to you sing." Tim's voice was still rough with sleep. "Even when it's terrible pop music."

Lucy's laugh was shaky. "Gee, thanks for the ringing endorsement."

Tim's hands tightened on her hips, and she saw the moment when his sleep-fogged brain caught up with their position. His eyes darkened as they travelled over her face, her exposed collarbone, the strip of skin visible between her shirt and shorts.

Lucy's hands somehow found their way to his chest, as Tim leaned down until their foreheads were almost touching, so close they were suddenly sharing rapid breaths.

Tim's eyes were fixed on her mouth, and Lucy found herself leaning up toward him. When their lips met, he stilled for only a moment before one hand tightened on her hip and the other came up to cup her face, his tongue pressing past the seam of her lips.

Lucy moaned against his mouth, and Tim felt her heart hammering against his chest. Her lips felt so good, and the way she shivered when he stroked his tongue along the roof of her mouth made him groan.

The sound of Tim's phone buzzing loudly on the kitchen counter broke the spell. They sprang apart like they'd been electrocuted, both breathing hard, both staring at each other with wide eyes.

"Sleep," Tim managed, gesturing vaguely toward his bedroom. "I should sleep."

"Right. Sleep." Lucy nodded frantically, smoothing down her shirt. "Good idea."

"Lucy," Tim said, his voice rough.

"Yeah?"

"Next time, warn me before you clean the house in that outfit."

Lucy's cheeks burned, but she couldn't help smiling. "Why? Is it distracting?"

Tim's grin was tired but wicked. "Everything about you is distracting."

Their next shift started with Tim opening her shop door and Lucy sliding into the passenger seat like they'd been doing this dance for years instead of hours. The gesture was small, automatic, but it sent warmth spreading through Lucy's chest. This was what she'd been craving without realizing it. Tim's protective instincts directed toward her not as his aide, but as someone he cared about.

"So," Tim said as they settled into their shop, "how obvious do you think we're going to be today?"

Lucy considered this seriously. "On a scale of one to ten? Probably a solid eight."

"Only an eight?" Tim asked, mock-offended. "I was aiming for at least a nine."

"We're professionals," Lucy reminded him, though she was smiling. "We can maintain workplace boundaries."

"Right. Boundaries." Tim's tone suggested he found this concept amusing.

They made it exactly a half hour before their careful façade started showing cracks.

Lucy was updating their location with dispatch when her phone buzzed with a text from Angela: Still pretending you don't want to jump each other?

Lucy snorted with laughter before she could stop herself, and Tim glanced over with raised eyebrows.

"Angela," Lucy explained, showing him the text.

Tim read it and grinned. "What are you going to tell her?"

"That our roommate life is... evolving," Lucy said carefully.

"Evolving how?"

Lucy studied Tim, noting the way his mouth curved when he was trying not to smile. "Well, my roommate has become significantly more attractive recently."

"Has he?" Tim's voice was carefully neutral, but Lucy caught the pleased note underneath.

"Mmm. Much more attentive, too. Very concerned about my... comfort levels."

Tim's knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. "Comfort levels?"

"He's very interested in making sure all my needs are met."

Tim felt heat shoot straight through him. Is she trying to kill me?

"That's... considerate of him," Tim managed.

"Though I'm starting to wonder if his motives are entirely altruistic. The way he looks at me sometimes, like he's thinking about things that aren't particularly... neighbourly."

"Maybe he is," Tim said quietly, his voice dropping into that lower register that made Lucy's pulse race.

"And what if I said I was thinking about things that weren't particularly neighbourly either?"

Tim's hands gripped the steering wheel harder. "Then I'd say if you keep talking to me like that while we're on duty, I'm going to have to pull this shop over."

Lucy's breath caught. "Good to know for future reference," she said sweetly, and Tim shot her a look that promised retribution.

At their next stop, a minor fender-bender that required paperwork, Lucy discovered that Tim had his own arsenal of button-pushing techniques. He stood close enough during witness interviews that she could feel his presence like a physical force. When he reached across her to hand someone his business card, his arm brushed against her chest in a way that looked completely accidental but left Lucy struggling to concentrate on the insurance forms.

"Officer Chen?" The witness was looking at her expectantly. "The licence plate number?"

"Right. Sorry." Lucy forced herself to focus, aware of Tim's amused satisfaction beside her. "Can you repeat that for me?"

Lucy's phone buzzed again with another text from Angela: That non-answer tells me everything I need to know. Wine night tonight. I'm coming over.

Lucy showed Tim the message, and he groaned.

"She's going to be thrilled that she was right," Lucy said.

"Should we tell her tonight?" Tim asked.

"About the secret dating thing?" Lucy grinned. "Oh, absolutely. She's going to lose her mind."

By the time they got home that evening, they had perfected the art of driving each other insane with little to no effort.

"I'm going to shower," Tim announced as they walked through the front door, then paused. "Care to join me?"

Lucy's mouth fell open in surprise, even though she knew he was kidding. Mostly kidding. "Tim..."

"Too much?" he asked, but his eyes were twinkling with mischief.

"Too much for day one of secret dating," Lucy confirmed, though she was smiling. "Ask me again in a couple of weeks."

Tim's grin was brilliant. "I'll hold you to that."

Lucy decided to test her own button-pushing abilities. She changed into the denim shorts and a soft, worn t-shirt of Tim's that had shrunk just enough to show a strip of skin at her waist when she moved. The choice was deliberate; she'd noticed how Tim's eyes darkened whenever she wore his clothes, and tonight she wanted to see exactly how much restraint he possessed.

Twenty minutes later, Tim walked into the kitchen wearing nothing but low-slung sweatpants, his hair still damp, and stopped dead when he saw her bent over the open refrigerator, the hem of his shirt riding up to reveal the curve of her back. The sight of her in his kitchen, in his clothes, hair twisted up in a messy knot with chopsticks, hit him like a physical force. This was every domestic fantasy he'd never let himself have made real.

Lucy straightened slowly, deliberately, giving Tim the full view as his shirt fell back into place. When she turned to face him, the heat in his eyes made her feel powerful, desired in a completely intoxicating way.

"Find everything you need?" Tim asked, his voice rough as his eyes travelled over her legs, the way his shirt clung to her curves, the tantalizing strip of skin at her waist.

He's doing this on purpose, she realized, noting how the sweatpants hung low on his hips, how he'd forgone a shirt entirely. The bastard is testing my resolve.

"I think so," Lucy replied innocently, then reached up to the top shelf for a spice, knowing the movement would expose more skin. "Though some things are a little... hard to reach."

Tim's eyes followed the movement, watched as the hem of his shirt rode up to expose more of that strip of skin that had been driving him crazy. He moved closer, to help, but just to torture himself with her proximity. "Let me get that for you."

When he reached over her head, his chest pressed against her back, and Lucy felt heat flood through her system. Tim handed it over, but his fingers remained pressed against hers.

This is dangerous, Lucy thought as Tim's thumb traced across her knuckles. We're going to combust before we make it through the weekend. But she couldn't bring herself to care. After months of quietly longing, being able to touch him felt like finally being able to breathe.

"You know," Lucy said thoughtfully, "I've been thinking about our text conversation last night."

Tim's eyes darkened. "Have you?"

"Mmm. Specifically about what you said about consequences."

"Lucy..." Tim's voice held a warning, but his grip on her hand tightened.

"I was wondering if those consequences might include more of those... alternative communication methods you mentioned."

"Depends," Tim said roughly. "How adventurous are you feeling?"

Before Lucy could answer, the sound of the front door opening echoed through the house.

"Hello, my beautiful idiots!" Angela's voice carried through the house. "I brought wine! I pumped and took an Uber for this!"

Tim and Lucy sprang apart, both breathing hard and looking thoroughly flustered.

"Showtime," Lucy murmured.

"Think we've blown our cover?" Tim asked, not bothering to put on a shirt.

"Completely," Lucy replied cheerfully. "She's going to see right through us."

"Good," Tim said, surprising her. "I'm tired of pretending I don't want to touch you."

Here we go, Lucy thought. Angela's about to have the time of her life.

"Kitchen!" Tim called back. "We're in the kitchen!"

Angela appeared in the doorway carrying a bottle of wine and wearing a satisfied expression that could only mean trouble.

"Well, well, well," Angela said, taking in the scene with obvious delight. Tim, shirtless and still slightly flushed. Lucy, wearing his shirt and looking dishevelled. Both of them were standing suspiciously far apart for people who'd just been very close together. "This is interesting."

"Angela," Lucy started, but Angela held up a hand.

"Nope. Wine first, explanations second." Angela set the bottle on the counter with authority. "Tim, put on a shirt. Lucy, get glasses. We're having a conversation."

An hour and a second bottle later, they were settled in Tim's living room, Angela curled up in the armchair like a queen holding court, while Tim and Lucy had gradually migrated closer together on the couch as the wine worked its magic.

"You know," Angela said, swirling her third glass with theatrical flair, "I've been trying to set Tim up for years.  Did you ever tell Lucy about my post-divorce intervention?"

"Post-divorce intervention?" Lucy asked, immediately intrigued.

Tim groaned. "Angela, don't."

"Oh, this is happening," Angela declared. "So, not long after Tim’s divorce was finalized, I decided he needed to get back out there. I set him up with this gorgeous nurse from the hospital, Olivia. Really sweet, perfect on paper."

"What happened?" Lucy asked, already grinning.

"He showed up late, claiming it was traffic."

"That's not why I was late," Tim protested weakly.

"Then he spent the entire dinner explaining proper evidence handling procedures because she mentioned watching CSI." Angela was clearly enjoying herself. "The poor woman thought he was criticizing her career choices."

Lucy was laughing now. "Please tell me there's more."

"When she suggested getting dessert, he said he couldn't because he had to get home to meal prep for the week. On a Friday night." Angela shook her head. "She texted me the next day asking if he was okay or if dating was some kind of court-ordered therapy."

Lucy and Angela erupted in laughter.

"I wasn't ready," Tim said defensively, but he was smiling despite himself.

"You weren't ready for anyone then," Angela corrected. "Which brings me to my next point. How long have you two been dancing around this? Because I've been watching the two of you stare at each other during roll call for months."

"I do not stare," Tim said.

"You stare," Lucy said, surprising him. "I thought I was imagining it."

Tim's ears went red. "You noticed?"

"Tim, you're not exactly subtle when you want something."

Angela clapped her hands together. "This is already more entertaining than I hoped. Okay, game time. Two truths and a lie. About your feelings for each other."

"Absolutely not," Tim said firmly.

"I think it's a great idea," Lucy giggled, the wine clearly loosening her inhibitions. "Tim first."

Tim stared at her with a gaze of warning, "Lucy..."

"Come on, Bradford. Two truths and a lie about how you feel about your roommate ."

Tim drained his wine glass, then set it down with resignation. "Fine. One: I think Lucy is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Two: I've been thinking about kissing her since the day she moved in. Three: I started having feelings for her during her rookie year."

The room went quiet. Lucy stared at Tim, eyes wide, processing what he'd just admitted.

"Which one's the lie?" Lucy whispered.

Tim's eyes never left hers. "The third one. I didn't start having feelings for you during your rookie year. I started having them when you went UC to go after Solanga. I knew then that I felt something more. More than being your TO. I was out of my mind when you missed your check-in. It’s why I asked you to save me a dance.” Tim bowed his head sheepishly. 

Lucy's breath caught. "Tim..."

He cleared his throat, and Lucy bumped his knee with hers. 

"My turn," Lucy said, her voice steadier than she felt. "One: I used to get butterflies when you'd give me orders during training. Two: I've fantasized about you in that garage gym every morning for months. Three: I knew I had feelings for you the night Jackson died."

Tim's breathing quickened. "Lucy..." There were so many layers to those options that Tim dare not unpack in front of Angela. 

"The lie is number three," Lucy said, her cheeks burning but her eyes steady on his. "I knew I had feelings for you long before that night. But losing Jackson made me realize how precious life is, and how stupid I was being by not telling you."

Angela made a sound somewhere between a squeal and a sigh. "Oh my God. You two. This is... I might cry."

But Tim and Lucy weren't listening to Angela anymore. They were staring at each other across the small space of the couch, both processing what had just been revealed.

"You get butterflies when I give you orders?" Tim asked, his voice rough.

Lucy's laugh was shaky. "Among other things."

"What other things?"

"Tim," Lucy warned, glancing at Angela.

"Don't mind me," Angela said, waving her wine glass. "Pretend I'm not here. This is better than any soap opera."

"You want specifics?" Lucy asked, the wine making her bold. "Fine. When you use your commanding voice, it does things to me, okay?  When you correct my form during workouts, I have to concentrate hard on not doing something inappropriate. And when you walk around the house in those low-slung sweatpants..." She trailed off, shaking her head.

Tim closed the remaining space between them on the couch. "Lucy."

"What?"

"We're in so much trouble."

Angela stood up unsteadily, clutching her empty wine glass. "Okay, I think my work here is done. You two need to have a very serious conversation about feelings and possibly some other things I don't need to witness."

"Angela," Lucy started.

"Nope. I'm calling an Uber. But guys?" Angela paused at the doorway, her expression growing serious despite the wine. "You both deserve to be happy. You've both been through enough. Stop overthinking it and just... be happy together."

After Angela left, Tim and Lucy sat in the quiet of his living room, the weight of their confessions settling between them.

"So," Tim said finally. "That happened."

"That happened," Lucy agreed.

"Any regrets?"

Lucy looked at him, taking in his tousled hair, his careful expression, the way he was holding himself like he was afraid she might bolt. "Just one."

Tim's face fell. "What?"

"That we waited this long to be honest with each other."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, both processing everything that had been revealed. The wine had left them both loose-limbed and honest.

"I should probably get some sleep," Lucy said eventually.

"Probably," Tim agreed, but his eyes were following the way Lucy tucked her legs under herself, how his shirt rode up slightly on her thigh.

Her cheeks flushed, then she stood and headed toward the hallway, pausing at the doorway to look back at him. Something passed between them in that glance that made her heart flutter.

Tim waited exactly three minutes after Lucy's door closed before he found himself walking down the hallway. He told himself he was just checking to make sure she was okay, but when he knocked softly on her door, he knew he was lying to himself.

"Come in," Lucy's voice was soft.

Tim opened the door to find Lucy sitting on the edge of her bed, having changed into sleep shorts and a tank top, her hair loose around her shoulders. She looked up at him, her chestnut eyes inviting, even if her body radiated nerves.

"I was hoping you'd come," she admitted quietly.

"Lucy..." Tim's voice was rough as he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.

"I know we said slow," Lucy said, standing up to face him. "But Tim, after tonight, after everything we just told each other..."

She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to. Tim crossed the room in a blink, his hands coming up to frame her face as he devoured her mouth.

Lucy melted into him immediately, her arms winding around his neck as she pulled him closer. This kiss is all-consuming. Deep, urgent, fueled by wine and honesty.

Tim's hands slid into her hair, tilting her head back so he could deepen the kiss, and Lucy moaned softly against his mouth. Desire crackled between them. Every touch sets their skin ablaze.  Tim backed Lucy toward the bed, his mouth never leaving hers.

When the backs of her knees hit the mattress, she pulled him down with her, both of them falling onto the soft sheets in a tangle of limbs. Tim's weight settled over her, and Lucy arched up into him, her hands roaming over his back, his shoulders, everywhere she could reach.

"God, Lucy," Tim groaned against her throat, pressing hot kisses along the column of her neck. "All day. You drove me crazy."

"Good," Lucy gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair as he found that spot just below her ear that she hoped he always paid special attention to.

Tim's hand slipped under the hem of her tank top, finding warm skin. His thumb brushed the underside of her breast, and Lucy's back arched at the contact. She tugged impatiently at his shirt, and Tim helped her pull it over his head before his mouth found hers again.

The feeling of skin against skin made them both groan. Lucy's hands explored the planes of his chest, while Tim's fingers traced the curve of her ribs, her waist, everywhere he'd been wanting to explore for months.

When Tim's hand moved to the waistband of her sleep shorts, Lucy's breath hitched, her hips lifting toward his touch. But something in the movement made Tim pause.

He pulled back to look at her, taking in her flushed cheeks, her swollen lips, the want in her eyes.

"Wait," he said quietly, his breathing ragged. "You asked to take this slow."

"I know what I said," Lucy's voice was breathless.

"And here we are, in your bed, about to..." Tim trailed off, struggling to maintain his resolve when Lucy was looking at him like that.

"I'm not sure how long slow is going to last," Lucy whispered. 

Tim's eyes closed briefly. "You're killing me here."

"I invited you into my room. I knew what might happen."

Tim looked at her, seeing the honesty and the want she wasn't trying to hide. For a moment, Lucy wavered. Then she thought about everything that could go wrong, everything they could lose if they moved too fast.

"I want you," she said finally. "More than I've ever wanted anything. But you're right. We should stick to the plan."

Tim nodded, though every cell in his body was screaming in protest. "We should be smart about this."

"I hate being smart," Lucy said with a shaky laugh.

"Me too." Tim pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "But Lucy, after tonight... I think I'm going to be looking into those work options a lot sooner than I originally planned."

Lucy's smile was brilliant. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Because I don't think either of us will be able to take it slow for very long."

Tim started to pull away, but Lucy caught his wrist.

"Stay," she said quietly. "Just to sleep. I promise I'll behave."

Tim looked at her, weighing the wisdom of spending the night in Lucy's bed when they'd just barely managed to stop themselves from crossing every line they'd drawn.

"That's probably a terrible idea," he said.

"Probably," Lucy agreed. "But I don't want you to go."

Tim's resolve crumbled. "Just to sleep."

Tim settled beside her on the bed, pulling Lucy against his chest. She curled into him immediately, her head finding a place on his shoulder, like it was made for her.

"Good night, Lucy," Tim murmured, pressing a tender kiss to the top of her head.

"Good night, Tim."

As they lay in the dark, both painfully aware of every point where their bodies touched. Tim closed his eyes, knowing the only thing stopping them tonight was the thinly veiled rule to wait. 

So he took a deep breath, letting one undeniable truth sink in: Lucy Chen was worth rewriting every rule in the book.

Chapter Text

Lucy woke to the sound of her alarm and the realization that Tim wasn't beside her. She could hear him moving around in his own room, getting ready for his morning run. This new routine he'd established to avoid the temptation in the mornings.

She lay in bed for a moment, staring at the ceiling and trying to ignore the ache of missing him. They were sleeping in separate rooms, keeping distance, and it was driving her insane. After weeks of secret dating and only stolen moments, the forced separation felt like torture.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Tim: Gone for a run. Coffee's ready when you're up.

Lucy smiled despite her frustration. Even when he was trying to maintain distance, Tim still took care of her.

She padded to the kitchen in one of his old t-shirts and sleep shorts, finding a fresh pot of coffee and a note propped against her favourite mug: Your oat milk is in the fridge. Have a good day. - Tim

The simple thoughtfulness made her chest tight with affection and longing. They'd been dancing around each other for a week now, both desperate to touch but determined to wait until the work situation was resolved. It was the right thing to do, but it was also slowly killing them both.

Lucy was sipping her coffee when Tim returned from his run, sweaty and breathing hard. He stopped short when he saw her in the kitchen, his eyes immediately drawn to the way his shirt clung to her curves, how her sleep-mussed hair fell around her shoulders.

"Morning," he said, his voice rough.

"Morning," Lucy replied. Biting her lip at how good he looked, post-run.

They stood there for a moment, drinking each other in, the air between them crackling with want and restraint.

"I should shower," Tim said finally, yet remained standing in the hallway, unmoving.

"Yeah," Lucy agreed, but her eyes were tracking the line of sweat down his neck. "You should."

Tim took a step further down the hallway, then stopped. "Lucy..."

"Don't," she said quickly, recognizing the look in his eyes. "Whatever you're about to say, don't. Because if you do, I'm going to kiss you, and if I kiss you, we're not going to stop, and we agreed to wait."

Tim's jaw tightened. "This is harder than I thought it would be."

"Tell me about it," Lucy muttered, turning away before she did something stupid like pinning his sweaty body against the wall and climbing him like a tree. 

Tim disappeared down the hall, and Lucy heard his shower start up moments later. She tried very hard not to think about what was happening in that shower, or how much she wanted to join him.

Something had to give. And soon.

The next week became an exercise in creative avoidance. They were polite housemates during the day, professional partners at work, but the tension between them was becoming unbearable. Every accidental touch, every shared glance, felt like a spark threatening to ignite something they wouldn't be able to stop.

Tuesday evening, Tim came home from a particularly frustrating day to find Lucy's car in the driveway but no sign of her in the common areas. He was heading to his room to shower when he heard it. A soft sound from Lucy's room made him freeze in the hall between their rooms.

At first, he thought she might be crying. But as he paused, listening despite himself, he realized what he was actually hearing. Lucy's breathing was quick and uneven, punctuated by soft gasps and quiet moans that sent all of his blood to rush south.

Tim's brain short-circuited as understanding dawned. Lucy was... taking care of herself. And from the sounds she was making. Fuck. He should be in there.

He should walk away. Should give her privacy, pretend he hadn't heard anything. But his feet seemed rooted to the floor as another breathy moan drifted through the door, followed by his name whispered so quietly he almost missed it.

"Tim..."

The sound of his name on her lips, spoken in the throes of pleasure, nearly brought him to his knees. Tim gripped the doorframe, fighting every instinct that told him to walk through that door and replace whatever was making her feel good with his hands, his mouth, his body.

"Fuck," he breathed, then forced himself to move away from her door before he did something that would ruin everything they'd been working toward. 

Is this how she’d been feeling that morning he was in the shower? Tempted, driven insane by desire?

But the image of Lucy in her bed, lost in pleasure while thinking about him, was now seared into his brain. He made it to his own room and immediately turned on a cold shower, but even the icy water couldn't erase the memory of those sounds, nor suppress his urge to find his own release. 

A few weeks after their wine night with Angela, Tim found himself at the food truck lineup alone. Lucy was handling some administrative work at the station, which meant he was riding solo for lunch and trying very hard not to think about the daily pull to be closer to Lucy. To finally take the scary steps to get out of her chain of command. 

"Bradford!" Angela's voice carried across the parking lot as she approached, looking pleased to see him. "Flying solo today?"

"Chen's buried in paperwork," Tim said, accepting the distraction gratefully. "Thought I'd grab us both something."

Angela studied his face as they fell into line together. "You look tense. Everything okay at home?"

Tim's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Fine."

"Uh-huh." Angela wasn't buying it. "How are things going with the whole secret dating situation? It's been a few weeks since I left you two making eyes at each other on the  couch."

Tim glanced around, making sure no one was within earshot. "It's still complicated."

"How?"

Tim ran a hand through his hair, debating how much to reveal. But this was Angela, and he needed to talk to someone before he lost his mind.

"We're waiting," he said quietly. "Until I'm out of her chain of command."

Angela's eyebrows shot up. "Define what you are….'"

Tim's ears went red. "Angela."

"Wait, you mean you haven't...?" Angela's eyes widened with understanding. "Oh my God, you two are still waiting to have sex?"

"Could you say that a little louder?" Tim hissed, glancing around nervously. "I don't think the entire courtyard heard you."

Angela lowered her voice, but her grin was wicked. "You're at least fooling around, though, right? I mean, you're living together and clearly crazy about each other. Please tell me you're not just holding hands and having chaste kisses goodnight."

Tim's face was now completely red. Angela wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him so flustered. 

 "I'm not discussing this with you."

"Oh my God, you are!" Angela squealed. "Tim Bradford, you beautiful, repressed man. No wonder you look like you're about to spontaneously combust."

"This conversation is over," Tim said firmly, but Angela wasn't deterred.

"Okay, okay. But seriously, what's the holdup with the chain of command thing? You mentioned transfer options before."

Tim's expression grew more serious. "I've been looking into it, but every option involves me leaving Mid-Wilshire or Lucy transferring to a different division. I don't want to leave, and I don't want her career disrupted because of this."

"Have you talked to Grey?"

"About my sex life? Absolutely not."

"Not about your sex life, you idiot. About the relationship disclosure process. Tim, cops date each other all the time. There are policies for this."

Tim paused, considering. "You think Grey would be okay with it?"

"I think Grey's been watching you two make eyes at each other, like the rest of us and is probably wondering when you're going to get your shit together." Angela bumped his shoulder. "Just talk to him."

Tim was quiet for a moment, processing. "It has to work out.. Lucy is... she's everything I've wanted for a long time. More than I ever thought I could have. I need to find a way to make this work."

Angela's expression softened at the raw honesty in his voice. "It will work out. You both care deeply for each other, and you're both good cops. Grey's not going to stand in the way of that."

"You think it's that simple?"

"I think you're overthinking it. But Tim?" Angela grinned. "For the sake of everyone around you, please figure this out soon. The sexual tension between you two is becoming a workplace hazard."

Meanwhile, Lucy sat in the station break room, reviewing Tim's reports but actually scrolling through her phone. She'd been trying to focus on work all morning, but her mind kept drifting to more... personal matters.

Specifically, to the conversation she'd had with herself about being prepared for when they finally stopped waiting.

She scrolled through options on her phone, trying and failing to make choices. The black set was classic but maybe too obvious. The yellow was bold but might be overwhelming. But the blue... Lucy paused, studying the image. 

Tim would love it. 

Lucy added it to her cart without allowing herself to second-guess the decision. They were going to figure out the work situation soon. They had to, and when they did, she wanted to be ready.

After all, they'd been waiting long enough.

That evening, Tim lingered at the station after his shift, gathering his courage. Lucy had already headed home, which gave him the privacy he needed for what he was about to do.

He knocked on Grey's office door, his heart pounding.

"Come in," Grey called.

Tim stepped into the office, closing the door behind him. Grey looked up from his paperwork, noting Tim's unusually nervous demeanour.

"What can I do for you, Bradford?"

"Sir, I need to talk to you about something important." Tim cleared his throat. "Since Jackson's passing and Lucy moving in as my roommate, some things have... changed. In order for things to remain appropriate, I need to discuss getting out of Lucy's chain of command."

Grey leaned back in his chair, trying to hide his amusement. He'd been waiting for this conversation for weeks. "Is that so?"

"Yes, sir. I've been looking into transfer options, but I was hoping there might be another solution."

Grey studied Tim's tense posture and the way he chose his words, and then decided to have a little fun. His expression grew stern. "Sergeant Bradford, are you telling me you've developed feelings for your aide?"

Tim's jaw tightened. "Sir, I—"

"Because that would be highly inappropriate," Grey continued, fighting back a grin. "The kind of thing that could seriously compromise both your careers."

"I understand that, sir. That's why I'm here."

Grey maintained his serious expression for a few more seconds, then burst out laughing. Tim looked thoroughly confused.

"Lopez put you up to this, didn't she?" Grey asked, wiping his eyes. "Did she tell you I picked this week for the pool?"

"Sir, what are you talking about?"

Grey studied Tim's genuinely confused expression and realized this wasn't a prank. "Wait. Shit. Are you and Chen actually together?"

Tim's composure finally cracked. "Yes! That's why I'm here, sir.”

Grey's laughter intensified, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Tim’s brow furrows, “Wait... you were all betting on us getting together?"

Grey's laughter intensified. "Oh, this is perfect. I'm going to laugh all the way to the bank."

"How much money are we talking about?" Tim asked, somewhere between mortified and curious.

"Let's just say you'll know I won when you see me at courtside for the Lakers," Grey said, still grinning. "But this still doesn't solve your problem, does it?"

"No, sir, it doesn't."

Grey's expression grew more serious, though he was still smiling. "Actually, it's an easier fix than you think. We fill out relationship disclosure forms. Lucy reports directly to me instead of you. You'll both need to complete a training module on workplace relationship ethics, but she can even continue as your aide if you want. She'll just have a different chain of command for administrative purposes."

Tim stared at him. "That's it?"

"That's it. The department’s more concerned about conflicts of interest and abuse of power than they are about cops dating each other. As long as everything's disclosed and appropriate reporting structures are in place, you're fine."

Tim felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "Sir, I... thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. Wait until you see how much paperwork is involved." Grey's grin turned wicked. "But Tim? Congratulations. Lucy's good for you."

Tim made a few quick stops on his way home, his mind racing with everything that had just happened. When he finally walked through the front door, Lucy was curled up on the couch with a book, wearing one of his old t-shirts and looking comfortable and completely unaware that their lives had just changed.

"Hey," she said, looking up with a smile. "How was your day?"

"Good. Better than good, actually." Tim set down his keys, trying to contain his excitement. "Put on something nice. We're going out."

Lucy blinked in surprise. "Going out? Tim, it's a Tuesday night. Don't you have that early briefing tomorrow?"

"I do. But I want to take you somewhere. We've been..." Tim paused, thinking about the distance they'd been maintaining. "We've been so focused on not crossing lines that we forgot to actually enjoy being together. I miss spending time with you."

Lucy felt her heart flutter at the tenderness in his voice. "Okay. Give me twenty minutes."

Lucy disappeared into her room, her mind racing with possibilities. They'd been so cautious lately, and now Tim wanted to take her out? She tried not to read too much into it, but as she selected a black floral two-piece dress, a midi skirt and a cropped top that showed just a hint of skin at her waist, she couldn't help but hope.

When she emerged twenty minutes later, Tim was waiting by the door in dark jeans and a button-down shirt that reminded her of why they’d been keeping distance. The way the fabric of his shirt sat snug on his shoulders and tapered down his sides only emphasized the body it was covering. Then the way his eyes darkened when he saw her, the way his gaze lingered on the strip of skin between her top and skirt, made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

"Wow," Tim said, his voice rough. "You look incredible."

"Thank you," Lucy said, suddenly self-conscious under his intense gaze. "You are pretty incredible, too."

Lucy flushed, “Uh..I mean, you look incredible, too.” 

For a moment, they just stood there looking at each other, the air between them charged with everything they'd been holding back. Tim took a step closer, his hand reaching up to touch her face.

"We should go." 

"Right. Going out." Lucy's voice was breathless. "Where are we going?"

"That new Mexican place we've been talking about," Tim said, finally stepping back and offering her his arm. "I made reservations."

The restaurant was perfect. It was intimate but not overly romantic, with soft lighting and excellent food. They fell into easy conversation, the tension of the past week melting away as they remembered why they enjoyed each other's company so much.

Halfway through dinner, Lucy noticed that Tim seemed nervous, almost excited about something.

"Okay, what's going on?" she asked, setting down her fork. "You've been fidgeting all evening, and you keep smiling like you know something I don't."

Tim's grin widened. "Can't a man just enjoy taking a beautiful woman out to dinner?"

"Tim, I know you. What's happening?"

Tim reached across the table and took her hand, his thumb tracing across her knuckles. "I wanted to celebrate."

"Celebrate what?"

"I talked to Grey today."

Lucy's breath caught. "You... what?"

"I told him about us. About the chain of command issue." Tim's smile was brilliant. "Lucy, it's all taken care of. Some paperwork, a training module, but you'll report directly to Grey now. We can figure this all out without all the secrecy, I mean, if you still want to?"

Lucy stared at him, her mind reeling. "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious. As of tomorrow, after we file the paperwork, that's it. That easy."

Lucy hadn’t realized how much of her had been holding back, expecting this shift to be a challenge for them. She fully expected one of them to be required to transfer or wait for another promotion. The meaning behind Tim’s willingness to go to Grey shattered the last of Lucy’s resolve. 

“Tim, I know you planned this lovely dinner for us to celebrate. But, wouldn’t you rather be home? Alone? With me?” 

Tim shot her a cocky grin, the one that used to mean push-ups behind the shop. Now, she knew it meant something completely different. 

“You’re gonna need that fuel for later.” 

The drive home was more than excruciating. Time slowed as anticipation took over. 

Tim's hands gripped the steering wheel as Lucy sat beside him, the air between them crackling with anticipation and barely restrained desire. Every red light felt like an eternity, every turn bringing them closer to what they'd been waiting months to have.

"You're driving very cautiously tonight," Lucy observed.

"I'm being responsible," Tim replied, though his voice was rough. "Making sure we get home safely."

"How responsible of you," Lucy said, and Tim caught the smile in her voice. She shifted in her seat, and he caught a glimpse of the skin at her waist where her top had ridden up slightly. His grip on the steering wheel tightened.

"Lucy," he warned.

"What?" she asked innocently, though she made no move to adjust her shirt. "I'm just sitting here."

"You're doing it on purpose."

"Doing what on purpose?"

Tim shot her a look that promised retribution. "Testing my resolve."

"Is it working?"

Instead of answering, Tim took the next turn with a little more speed than necessary, earning a soft laugh from Lucy that only fueled his raging desire further.

By the time they pulled into the driveway, the tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife. They sat in the truck for a moment after Tim turned off the engine, letting the gravity of what was about to happen settle between them. 

"This is really happening," Lucy said quietly.

"It is," Tim confirmed, then turned to look at her. "Unless you've changed your mind?"

"Not a chance," Lucy said, her voice firm and bright despite the flutter of nerves in her stomach. "I've been thinking about this, about you, for months."

Tim's smile was devastating. "Good. Because I have some very specific plans for you."

They walked to the front door with measured distance between them, knowing that once they crossed the threshold, there would be no more holding back, no more distance. Tim's hands trembled slightly as he unlocked the door, and Lucy noticed.

"Nervous?" she asked gently.

"Nah."

But Lucy’s narrowed gaze let him know she saw through the lie. 

"Not about this, but about disappointing you. About not living up to whatever you've been imagining."

Lucy blinked. Struck by his vulnerability, which was somewhat shocking, but also melted her heart. "Tim, you could never disappoint me."

Inside, they stood in the entryway, suddenly awkward despite everything they'd been through together. The moment settled over them. 

This was it, the culmination of months of wanting and waiting. How many times had they almost tossed caution to the wind and given in?

Tim kicked off his shoes, then knelt to help Lucy out of her heels, his fingers lingering on her ankles, sending a warm shiver through her body. When he straightened, they were standing close enough that Lucy had to crane her head back to meet his eyes.

"So," she said, her voice slightly breathless. "Are you going to stand there looking at me, or are you going to act out one of the many fantasies you've had over the last few months?"

Tim's eyes darkened at her words, and Lucy saw the exact moment he realized they were truly done waiting. 

His hands came up to frame her face, and when he kissed her this time, it was with everything he'd been holding back. Months of want, weeks of gentle hungry kisses, all of it poured into the desperate press of his mouth against hers.

Lucy melted into him immediately, her hands fisting in his shirt as she pulled him closer. This kiss felt different. It held the edge of knowing they didn’t need to hold back, to stop, to find an escape plan. It was a kiss that promised so much more.

Tim backed her against the front door, his body caging her in as his mouth moved to her throat. Lucy's head fell back with a gasp, her hands roaming over his chest, his shoulders. Her nails dug in, as if she could somehow tether herself from inevitably floating away from the simplest pleasure of his hot open open-mouthed kisses on her neck. 

"God, I've wanted this," Tim groaned against her neck, his hands sliding down to her waist, his thumbs brushing the strip of skin between her top and skirt. "Wanted you. Staying away from you has been wrecking me.” His voice cracked on the confession.

"Then have me," Lucy breathed, her fingers working at the buttons of his shirt. 

The raw need in her voice made something primal surge through him. Tim's hands moved to the hem of her top, pausing just long enough to meet her eyes. 

Lucy's nod was immediate, desperate. "Yes. Please, yes."

Tim pulled her top over her head in one smooth motion, and his breath caught at the sight of her. The delicate black lace bralette she wore curved her breasts and left little to the imagination as her nipples pressed firmly into a sheer layer of lace, a wide band of satin wrapping around her rib cage.   

"Beautiful," he murmured, his hands skimming over newly exposed skin. "So damn beautiful."

Lucy's response was cut off by a gasp as Tim's mouth found the sensitive spot just below her ear; his teeth grazing the skin only elevated the pulse between her legs. Her hands finally succeeded in getting his shirt open, pushing it off his shoulders, and Tim groaned at the feeling of her hands on his chest.

"Bedroom," Lucy managed, though she made no move to push him away.

"Too far," Tim said against her throat, his hand already slipping past the side slit in her skirt, finding his way to her thigh. "I've been thinking about having you right here, against this door, for months."

The confession made Lucy's core clench with want. "Tim..."

"Tell me what you want," he said, his voice rough as his hand stilled, his thumb continuing circles on her inner thigh. "Tell me what you've been thinking about."

“So many things. How good it will feel to touch you. The weight of your cock on my tongue.”

Tim groaned against her neck as he continued to nip and suck behind her ear. 

“How will it feel when you fuck me with your fingers? What it will be like to finally have you inside me.” Lucy's cheeks flushed, as she turned to meet his eyes again. "All of it. I want to feel you everywhere."

Tim groaned. His hands roamed her body like he was trying to memorize every curve, every sensitive spot that made her gasp and arch into his touch.

 How could he look at her like he wanted to cherish her and devour her with the same gaze?

When his fingers found the edge of her panties, Lucy's hips lifted toward him instinctively.

"Please," she whispered, and Tim nearly lost his mind at the plea.

He sank to his knees before her, his hands parting the skirt and pinning it behind her hip. Lucy's breath caught as she realized his intention. 

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about all the ways I want to make you feel good,” Tim confessed. 

He wanted to be exactly what she needed after weeks of denying them. But he’s not going to rush. He’s going to savour every single touch, every single taste.

Tim pressed his forehead against her abdomen. The tip of his nose pressed dangerously close to where he knew she wanted him. After a deep inhale, he looked up to meet her with dark eyes,  "I've been dreaming about this, "About how you'll taste, how you'll sound when I make you fall apart."

He hooked his fingers in her lacy black panties and glided them down her legs. His heart hammered in his chest as he hooked her leg over his shoulder.  When the first touch of his mouth against her caused Lucy to cry out, her hands speared into his hair as sensation overwhelmed her. Tim suddenly felt all the tension melt out of his body. Touching her like this. Silenced every doubt and worry.

His breath was hot against her, his tongue skimming smooth, soft wet skin until he laved over her clit. She rewarded him by moaning his name. Her volume grew louder and louder with each pass of his tongue. Tim was thorough, deliberate, using everything he'd learned about her body to drive her higher and higher until she was trembling against him.

"That's it," he murmured against her, the vibration making her gasp. "Let go for me, Lucy. Let me hear you."

Her nails dug into his scalp, guiding him exactly where she needed him. The pressure, the angle. She took control, and at her encouragement, Tim continued to feast on her, as though he’d been starved.

When she finally shattered, chanting his name,  Tim felt a surge of satisfaction at watching her come undone.

He dropped her leg and rose to his feet. His hand trailed along the outside of her thigh, cupping her ass to steady as her knees buckled. 

Lucy paused, tracing his bottom lip with her thumb. “I look good on you.” 

Tim barely had time to groan at her comment when Lucy pulled him into a desperate kiss, licking into his mouth and moaning at the taste of herself.

"Bedroom," she said again, more urgently this time. "Now."

Tim threaded their fingers together and led her down the hall. By the time they reached his room, Lucy was already working at his belt, then the waistband of his boxers, her touch making him groan. She glided both garments over his hips, kneeling to pull his feet out of the bottoms with the same care he’d shown when removing her heels. 

She stayed planted on her knees in front of him, her eyes drinking in the curve of him, unapologetically hard and waiting for her attention. Tim took in her swollen lips from their kisses, her flushed cheeks from the orgasm he just gave her, and his smug grin that turned into a hiss when Lucy ran her tongue along the underside of his shaft. 

Tim shivered, her touch sending a jolt up his spine. “Fuck, Lucy.” 

She pressed her palm flat against his abdomen, encouraging him to sit on the edge of the bed as she inched closer. Nudging his knees further apart with her shoulders, she remained focused on swirling her tongue along his length. 

Tim’s fingers threaded through her hair, holding it away from her face so he could watch as he disappeared into her mouth. When the tip met resistance, he watched in awe as she angled her throat and swallowed him deeper, her nose pressing into his pelvis as her reward for the effort.  

She repeated the motion, snapping her gaze up to meet his, her eyes black with desire as one hand held him at the base, and her other hand dug into the meat of his ass with her fingernails. She moaned around his cock as his muscles involuntarily flexed under her grip. 

Tim felt like he could get lost in her eyes as she held him transfixed like some kind of succubus. Reaching down, he slipped his hand past the lace of her bralette and cupped a breast. His thumb circled her nipple, eliciting a moan that reverberated from Lucy’s throat straight to the back of his spine. 

If he didn’t stop her, this was going to be over far too soon, and he had plans after all. But every time he thought she was going to pull her lips off him with a pop, she doubled down, pulling him back into her mouth, then the tight channel of her throat. “Lucy,” he groaned. 

His eyes rolled back in his head. It would be so easy to let go. Surrender here. Her mouth felt amazing. He’d only been fantasizing about the feel of her for months. This felt like a dream. 

Tim's eyes went wide with surprise as he shot his load down her throat. It was faster than he wanted, but then again, he wasn’t too surprised. 

Lucy swallowed, then ran her thumb along her lips before pulling it into her mouth to suck it clean. She pressed a warm palm on his thigh, raising her brow. 

“What’d you expect?" he said cockily, as if he wasn’t the one who’d cum in record time. He ran his hand through her hair, cupping the back of her head. “You’ve been taunting me for weeks .” 

"Was I now?" Lucy asked with an innocent giggle. 

“You know you were,” he shot back. “But I’m glad we got that one out of the way. Now I can focus on my plans for a bit. 

Lucy raised an eyebrow. “Plans, huh?”

"Now I can make you come again,” he tugged her in for a kiss, “and again,” another kiss, “ And again.” 

“Mmm, you do love a challenge,” she said, pulling away, “but I don’t give so easily.”

“Hmph, we’ll see about that. ”

 Lucy leaned over and kissed him again. " I do think we both could use a shower, though."

"A shower," Tim repeated, looking confused.

"Yes, a shower. You know, that thing with water and soap? The place you spend the most time thinking about me?” she teased. “It’s very relaxing." Lucy tugged on his hand. "Come on, let's get relaxed. The night is still young, and we have months of fantasies to work through, remember?"

Chapter Text

Tim’s ensuite shower was spacious enough for two, which Tim had never particularly appreciated until this very moment. His eyes stayed on Lucy as she moved to turn on the shower. Steam quickly filled the bathroom as she adjusted the temperature, her movements unselfconscious despite her nudity. Tim watched her with reverence.

"You're staring," Lucy said without turning around, though he could hear the smile in her voice.

"Can you blame me?" Tim stepped closer, his hands finding her waist as the hot water cascaded over both of them. "I've been imagining this for months."

"Just this?" Lucy turned in his arms, water droplets clinging to her eyelashes, steam swirling around them and obscuring his view.

"Among other things." Tim's voice was rough as his hands traced the curve of her spine. "But mostly just... having you. Being with you, touching you."

Lucy's breath caught at the honesty in his voice. "Then touch me."

Tim's hands roamed her body with deliberate care, mapping every curve and hollow. The hot water and rising steam created an almost dreamlike haze, making everything feel soft and ethereal. He could feel the texture of her skin, slick and warm beneath his palms.

Lucy was fluid in his hands, leaning into his touch and moving to accommodate his exploration. When his hands cupped her breasts, she arched into him with a soft gasp that echoed off the shower walls. His lips found hers, gentle at first, but their kiss quickly became more urgent.

"Better?" he murmured against her lips.

"Much." Lucy's hands explored his chest, his shoulders, marvelling at the way his muscles moved under her touch. Her fingers slowly traced old scars through the steam, and Tim groaned at her exploration. "Now who's getting cocky?"

"Maybe a little." Tim's grin was wicked as he backed her against the tile wall.

The cool tile against her heated skin elicited a hiss, and Tim's mouth found her neck, pressing hot kisses along the column of her throat. His hands continued their worship of her body, learning every curve, every sensitive spot that made her breath hitch.

Lucy's fingers tangled in his wet hair, guiding his mouth lower as he kissed across her collarbone. The water cascaded over them, creating rivulets that Tim followed with his tongue, making Lucy shiver despite the heat.

"Tim," she breathed as his mouth moved lower, kissing the valley between her breasts, then lower still.

"Let me explore," he murmured against her skin, his voice low. "I want to learn every inch of you."

His journey was unhurried, mapping her body with kisses and gentle nips that had Lucy arching against the wall. When he finally sank to his knees before her, it felt like a natural progression rather than the desperate claiming from earlier.

"Is this okay?" he asked, looking up at her through the steam, his hands gentle on her hips.

Lucy's answer was breathless. "Yeah."

This time was different from their frantic encounter by the front door. Here, with the hot water streaming over them and steam creating their own private world, Tim took his time. His touch was worshipful and exploratory, as if he was savouring a feast.

Lucy's soft cries mixed with the sound of water hitting tile, creating a symphony that belonged only to them. When she finally shattered against his mouth, her hands gripping his shoulders for support, it felt like a slow, rolling wave rather than the sharp, desperate peak from before.

"I've got you," he murmured as he rose to catch her trembling form, his arms strong and steady around her.

They finished washing each other with gentle touches and soft kisses, the urgency replaced by tenderness.

It had been months of stolen glances and late-night fantasies. It had been phantom touches. Now, suddenly, here they were standing in Tim’s bedroom,  from the heat of the shower, their bodies thrumming with desire. The tension crackled between them, like a living thing, and all Tim could think about was how many times he’d imagined them right here, in this moment. 

The amber light of his bedroom made all of Lucy’s curves appear softer. Her honey skin, radiant against the warm glow of a small bedside lamp. 

Tim’s body looked even more defined as the shadows seeped into valleys along his stomach and pelvis. His skin was a map of a life not only lived, but survived. His scars, which Lucy could only feel in the steam of the shower, were now in plain sight. His body, so much more beautiful than she’d imagined. 

They stood there, frozen. This was the line they’d been longing to cross after every workout, near-death experience or late night fantasy.

Reaching for Lucy’s hand, Tim threaded their fingers together and gave a gentle squeeze.

“I can’t explain it, but I always knew we’d end up here.” His voice confident, “Even if it’s a bit sooner than expected.” 

Lucy looked at him thoughtfully, cocking her head with a small smile, “Me too.” 

Tugging his hand, Lucy wasted no time pulling him down with her onto the sheets. Her damp hair fanned out on his pillow; the contrast of her dark brown hair against the slate of his sheets made her look like a wild temptress.

Tim slowly settled over her, his warm breath leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. Gliding his hand along her side, suddenly, he was met with ink on her skin that his eyes had been deliberately avoiding until now. The soft light finally provided him a clear view of what the steam and angles in the shower had obscured. 

He'd known she'd kept it. 

She'd complained about how uncomfortable she'd been for weeks after her appointment to make it her own. Something about not being able to wear the right bra while it healed. But now, he has an up close view of how she took a series of numbers and made them her own.

The numbers remained, but now they were wrapped in delicate vine patterns with blossoms bursting around them. Below the numbers, delicate cursive with feathered arrows on either side of it: First day of the rest of my life.

His words. 

The ones he'd said to her when she'd been so broken, so convinced she was irreparably damaged. Tim's emotions caught in his throat as the full weight of it hit him. Not just that she'd kept the tattoo, but that she'd transformed it into something beautiful. That she'd taken his clumsy attempt at comfort and made it permanent, carved it into her skin like a promise.

"Lucy," he whispered, his thumb tracing the delicate script.

She'd been watching his face, reading every emotion as he processed what he was seeing. "You said it proved I was a survivor," she said softly. 

"I remember." His voice was rough with emotions he wasn't trying to hide anymore.

Her hand covered his, where it rested against her ribs. "Every day I look at this, I remember that I chose to live. That I chose to fight. And I remember the person who helped me see that I was worth fighting for."

Tim leaned down, pressing his lips to the delicate artwork, kissing the words he'd spoken in desperation, now made permanent in ink and meaning. When he looked up at her again, Lucy saw everything in his eyes—the memory of that terrible day, the fierce protectiveness that had never left, and the overwhelming, dare she consider it, love he was trying to conceal.

Instead of trying to fumble for the right words to express how much seeing his words on her skin meant to him, Tim realized he wanted to show her.He settled over her, his weight warm and solid. For a moment, they just looked at each other, the gravity of the moment settling between them. The playfulness of earlier had given way to something more profound, more intense.

Tim had never felt like this about another woman. Lucy was exceptional, and she deserved the absolute best of him. He would not deny her.

Tim swallowed hard. "You sure?" he asked quietly, his thumb tracing along her cheekbone.

"Positive," Lucy breathed, her hands coming up to frame his face.

If Tim thought for a fleeting moment that she wouldn't run from his bed immediately, he'd tell her exactly how much of her he wanted, and for how long. How forever didn't feel like nearly enough time to be with her, laugh with her, love her. 

But there was time for that. 

Pressing his forehead to hers, he took in a calming breath before positioning himself at her entrance. Lucy's eyes stayed on his as he slowly glided inside, both of them gasping at the sensation of finally being connected completely.

The initial stretch made Lucy's breath hitch, her body slowly adjusting to accommodate him. Tim stilled, giving her time, his jaw worked with the effort of restraint as her tight warmth enveloped him.

"Okay?" he asked through gritted teeth, his voice strained.

Lucy nodded,  her hands gripping his shoulders. "You feel... God, Tim, you feel incredible."

When she shifted beneath him, taking him deeper, Tim groaned low in his throat. "Fuck. Lucy, you're so tight, so perfect."

"Move," she breathed, a note of desperation in her voice, her legs wrapping around his waist. "Please move."

Tim began with slow, careful strokes, letting her body adjust to his, but the sensation of being completely surrounded by her heat was overwhelming. Lucy met each movement, her hips rising to meet his, and the friction between them built steadily.

"Faster," Lucy gasped, her nails digging into his back as she pulled him closer. "Tim, I need..."

"What do you need?" he asked, his voice rough as he picked up the pace, their bodies moving together in perfect rhythm.

"You. All of you. Harder," she said, and the need in her voice made him lose the last of his control.

Tim's movements became more urgent, more demanding, and Lucy responded with equal passion. The sound of their breathing, of skin against skin, filled the room along with the soft cries of pleasure that escaped Lucy's lips with each thrust.

"God, Lucy," Tim groaned, his face buried in her neck as he felt her tighten around him. "You feel...” So perfect. Made for me.

Lucy's response was a breathless moan as Tim’s deepest strokes found that spot inside her that made her see stars. Her back arched off the bed, and she cried out his name as pleasure coursed through her.

"That's it," Tim said roughly, his movements becoming more erratic as he felt his own release building. "Let go for me. I want to feel you come apart."

When Lucy's climax hit, her body clenching around him as she called out his name, the sensation was enough to send Tim over the edge with her. He buried himself deep inside her one final time, her name on his lips as his own release claimed him.

The way she’d fit around him, the way her body seemed made for his, it was like coming home to something he hadn't known he'd been searching for.

Lucy's hands roamed his back as he began to move, her touch grounding him even as their climaxes threatened to overwhelm them both. "That was..." she started, then trailed off, unable to find words.

“It was.”  Tim pressed a soft kiss to her forehead as their breaths calmed and bodies cooled. 

An hour later, they roused from their blissful haze when gentle touches and lazy kisses inevitably turned slowly into something more heated. They took their time exploring, Lucy learning that Tim lost all composure when she used her teeth on his neck, Tim discovering that Lucy became undone entirely when he whispered what he wanted to do to her.

"Tell me," Lucy breathed, her hand wrapped around him. Her strokes slow and steady. 

"What?"

 “What you want, Tim.”

Tim had felt like his brain was short-circuiting. The euphoria from all of the endorphins coursing through his body lowered his filter and diminished his control. "I want to learn every sound you make. Want to know every little touch and sound that drives you crazy."

Lucy raised an eyebrow, continuing her languid strokes. “I appreciate that, but that’s not quite what I meant.” 

Tim looked down at her hand gripping him with a groan. ‘Oh.”

Pressing into her side firmly, he tapped her hip, “I want you in my lap. Let me feel you around me.”

His eyes never left her as she lifted her leg slowly over his hips, her body on full display, while he shuffled up the bed, pressing his back against the headboard. 

“Is this what you meant?” Lucy asked, lining him up against her entrance once he settled. 

Licking his lips, Tim’s eyes darkened, Lucy’s fingertips pressed crescents into his shoulders, fighting to maintain stability while she followed his direction. 

Tim raised a hand, smoothing it along her shoulder, then trailing along her neck until he threaded his fingers through her hair, pulling her in for an urgent kiss that was all tongue and teeth. The feel of being seated so deeply inside her sent a surge of arousal to the base of his spine and a moan of pleasure to rumble deep in his chest. 

When they broke apart, lips swollen and breathless, Lucy pressed her forehead to his. 

“What’s next, sir? I guess I like it when you order me around.” 

Tim grumbled against her lips, “That makes two of us.”

 Fuck. 

“Move,” he grunted. “Ride me.” 

Lucy didn’t hesitate. It was her turn to watch him come undone as she continued to move, her head tossed back so far, her hair teased at the top of his thighs. One of Tim’s hands gripped her hip as his thumb found her clit. Her warmth and slickness made it a struggle for him to maintain control. All he wanted was to memorize her like this.  Her lips swollen, back arching and breasts bouncing as she rocked against him. Her moans vibrated through both their bodies. His fantasies are nothing compared to the revelation of this.

Tim’s thoughts are interrupted when Lucy’s teeth graze along his jugular. The sensation goes straight to his dick, though he’s not sure how he could get harder. Lucy’s hot breath passed along his collarbone like a warm, heavy ribbon. But it’s when her teeth press firmly into the skin that, for the second time in as many hours, he couldn’t control his release. The combination of being buried so deep inside her, the flutters of her near orgasm and the pressure of her teeth sends him careening over the edge. 

Placing one hand on the mattress to brace himself, he involuntarily fuckd up into her, chasing his orgasm. Opening his mouth to curse or say something, words failed him. He’s completely numb as Lucy milks the last of him, in pursuit of her own blissful release.  

Carding her fingers through his hair, she smiled down at the face of a man who was completely wrecked. 

He rolled his eyes, blinking several times, attempting to calm his racing heart. His whole body still on fire, for her. 

Leaning in gently, Lucy pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose,” Seems you really like telling me what to do.”

Tim shook his head, while Lucy preened, still seated in his lap. “Remember when we talked about being cocky earlier?”

Biting her lip, all Lucy could do was smile. “Okay, okay. But for the record, I’ll be curious to see who comes first when I’m giving the orders.” 

Wrapping his arms around her tightly, Tim flipped them, placing Lucy on her back in seconds. “We’ll see. But for now, let’s get cleaned up and find a snack.” 

Lucy woke to the smell of coffee and bacon, and Tim's voice talking quietly to Kojo in the kitchen. She stretched, noting the pleasant ache in well-used muscles, and smiled at the memories from the night before.

She found Tim at the stove, wearing only sweatpants, and slid her arms around his waist from behind.

"Morning," she said, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades.

"Morning." Tim turned in her arms, his smile soft and intimate. "Sleep okay?"

"Eventually," Lucy replied with a grin. "After someone kept me very busy."

"Coffee's ready," Tim said, gesturing to the counter where he'd set out her favourite mug.

"You made breakfast too?"

"Figured we worked up an appetite." Tim's eyes crinkled with amusement. "Multiple times."

Lucy settled at the kitchen island, watching Tim move around his space—their space—with easy efficiency. Everything felt different now, charged with new meaning and the comfortable intimacy of the night before.

"You really took 'again and again' seriously last night," Lucy teased, accepting the plate he set in front of her.

"Of course I did. I'm very thorough," Tim said with mock seriousness. "Ask anyone."

"Please don't. I'd prefer to keep your thoroughness to myself." Lucy took a bite of bacon, then looked at him thoughtfully. "So is this the type of commitment to our mutual pleasure I can expect from you going forward?"

Tim paused in his own eating, considering her with that focused attention she'd always found both thrilling and unnerving. "For you, Lucy? Always."

Even after everything they'd shared the night before, Lucy felt her cheeks turn pink, and Tim's smile grew impossibly wider.

"Good. Also, that smile looks good on you," she said softly.

It was Tim's turn to blush slightly. "Thanks."

"So," Lucy said as they settled into comfortable conversation, "what happens now?”

Tim met her eyes across the counter. "Now we figure it out as we go. No more careful distance, no more overthinking every touch."

"Just us?"

"Just us," Tim confirmed, then paused. "Though I should probably warn you, I'm going to be insufferably smug about this for at least a week."

"About what, exactly?"

"You know what," Tim's grin was pure satisfaction. 

Lucy laughed. "Your ego is showing."

"My ego has excellent instincts."

As they carried their plates out to the patio, the morning sun warming their faces, Lucy realized this was what contentment felt like, not the sharp burst of happiness that came with good news, but the deep, steady peace of being exactly where she belonged.

"You know," she said as they settled at the small table, "the roommate agreement actually worked."

"Best contract I ever wrote," Tim agreed with obvious pride.

"Even though we ignored most of it?"

" Because we ignored most of it," Tim said. "The important parts, anyway. Though I think we need a new one now."

"Oh, really? What would this one say?"

Tim pretended to think seriously, his expression growing mock-solemn. "Lucy Chen agrees to put up with Tim Bradford's control issues and his insufferable morning smugness. Tim Bradford agrees to let Lucy Chen reorganize his entire life and steal all his t-shirts."

Lucy burst out laughing. "That's it? That's your romantic roommate agreement?"

"What else do we need?" Tim asked, genuinely puzzled. "We're perfect together. We fit. We love each other. Everything else is just details."

The words tumbled out so naturally that it took a moment for both of them to register what he'd said. Tim's coffee mug froze halfway to his lips, his eyes widening as he realized what had just slipped out. Lucy's fork clattered against her plate as she stared at him, her mouth falling open.

"Did you just—" Lucy started.

"I didn't mean to—" Tim began at the same time.

They both went completely still, staring at each other across the small table. The morning air that had been filled with comfortable domesticity suddenly crackled with tension and possibility.

Lucy's heart hammered against her ribs as she processed what had just happened. Tim, the man who measured every word, who never said anything he didn't mean, had just casually dropped the L-word into conversation like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Tim," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Did you mean that?"

The question hung between them in the golden morning light. Tim's hands were frozen on the table, his expression cycling through what looked like panic, vulnerability, and something that might have been hope.

Lucy knew what she wanted him to say. She could only hope he’d have the courage. They’d made it this far.

Chapter Text

Tim's coffee mug stayed frozen halfway to his lips, his eyes widening as he realized what had just slipped out. Lucy's fork clattered against her plate as she stared at him, her mouth falling open in surprise.

The morning air that had been filled with comfortable domesticity suddenly crackled with tension and possibility.

"Did you just—" Lucy started.

"I didn't mean to—" Tim began at the same time.

They both went utterly still, staring at each other across the small table. Lucy's heart hammered against her ribs as she processed what had just happened. Tim, the man who measured every word, who never said anything he didn't mean, had just casually dropped the L-word into conversation like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Tim," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Did you mean that?"

The question hung between them in the golden morning light. Tim set down his coffee mug carefully, his expression cycling through what looked like surprise, vulnerability, and something that might have been relief.

He looked at her, really looked at her, sitting across from him in one of his T-shirts, her hair still mussed from sleep, morning sunlight catching the gold in her dark eyes. This was Lucy at her most unguarded, most beautiful, asking him the most important question he'd ever been asked.

"Yeah," he said quietly, his voice rough with honesty. "I meant it. I love you, Lucy. I've been falling in love with you for a while. And I'm not taking it back."

Lucy felt tears prick her eyes, but her smile was radiant. "Good. Because I love you too. Completely, ridiculously, head-over-heels."

Tim's answering smile was brilliant, transforming his entire face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Lucy laughed, wiping at her eyes. "God, we're such idiots. 

When he kissed her this time it was soft, reverent, and filled with the promise of their future. Lucy melted into him, her arms winding around his neck, and Tim held her tightly, like she was his whole world.

Because she was.

"So," Lucy said when they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, "what now?"

Tim's grin turned wicked. "Now we have an entire Saturday with nothing to do but enjoy being ridiculously in love with each other."

"Okay, but first I should probably tackle that closet," Lucy said, though she made no move to leave his arms. "I've been putting off sorting clothes for donation forever."

"Good idea," Tim agreed, his hands trailing down her spine. "And I need to finish those quarterly reports."

"Look at us, being all productive and domestic," Lucy teased.

"Mmm," Tim hummed against her neck, making her shiver. "Very domestic."

Their intentions were good. Lucy had gathered donation bags and headed to the bedroom closet, determined to finally sort through the clothes that had been accumulating since her move. Tim settled at the kitchen island with his laptop and a stack of reports, coffee within reach, every inch the focused professional.

They made it exactly eighteen minutes.

"Tim?" Lucy's voice drifted from the bedroom, and something in her tone was deliberately casual with an undercurrent of mischief. It made him look up from his spreadsheets.

"Yeah?"

"I need your expert opinion on something."

Tim found Lucy standing in front of the full-length mirror, wearing a fitted black dress that made his mouth go completely dry. It hugged every curve, the hemline dancing just above her knees, and she was smoothing her hands down the sides in a way that was definitely intentional.

"What do you think?" she asked innocently, doing a slow turn that showcased how the fabric clung to her ass. "Keep or donate?"

Tim's fingers tightened on the doorframe. "That's not playing fair."

"I don't know what you mean," Lucy replied, her eyes sparkling with challenge. "I'm just asking for your opinion on my wardrobe choices."

"My opinion?"

"Mmm. As someone with excellent taste." Lucy stepped closer, and Tim could see the exact moment she registered how his breathing had changed. "Do you think this dress serves a purpose in my life?"

"Depends," Tim said, his voice dropping to a register that never failed to make Lucy's knees weak. "What purpose are you hoping it serves?"

"Well," Lucy bit her lip, a gesture that was pure calculation disguised as innocence, "I was thinking it might be useful for driving a certain control-obsessed man completely insane."

Tim's control snapped. He crossed the room in two strides, backing Lucy against the mirror.

"You want to drive me insane?" he asked, his hands bracing on either side of her head, caging her in.

"Is it working?" Lucy's voice was breathless, but her eyes held that defiant spark that always undid him.

"You know exactly how well it's working." Tim's thumb traced along her jawline, making her tilt her head back. "The question is, what are you going to do about it?"

Lucy's answer was to grab his shirt and pull him down for a kiss that was all heat and demand. Tim responded immediately, his hands finding the zipper of her dress and pulling it down with deliberate slowness, his fingers trailing fire over each inch of exposed skin.

"God, I love that I can do this now," he growled against her mouth. "Touch you whenever I want. Make you fall apart whenever you get mouthy with me."

"Then do it," Lucy challenged, even as she arched into his touch. "Make me fall apart. Tim."

Tim's eyes darkened at the deliberate provocation in her voice. "Careful what you ask for."

He spun her to face the mirror, his body pressed against her back, his hands skimming over her skin as the dress pooled at her feet. Lucy watched their reflection, mesmerized by the way Tim's hands looked against her body, the way his eyes never left hers in the glass.

"Watch," he commanded, his voice rough in her ear. "Watch what I do to you."

His hands cupped her breasts through the lace of her bra, and Lucy gasped at the sensation, her head falling back against his shoulder. But Tim's free hand came up to cup her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes in the mirror.

"I said watch," he repeated, and the authority in his voice made her core clench with need.

Lucy kept her eyes on the mirror as Tim's hands explored her body with maddening precision, tracing along every spot that made her gasp, every touch that made her arch against him. When his fingers finally slipped beneath the lace of her panties, finding her slick and ready, she cried out his name.

"That's it," Tim murmured, his fingers working against her with perfect pressure. "Let me hear you say my name."

"Tim," Lucy gasped, her hands clutching at his arms as he ratchted the tension inside her tighter and tighter. "Please."

"Please what?" His fingers stilled, and Lucy whimpered at the loss of friction.

"Please make me come," she whispered, and the desperation in her voice made Tim groan.

"Since you asked so nicely," he said, his fingers resuming their torturous rhythm until Lucy shattered with a cry that echoed off the bedroom walls.

Tim caught her as her knees gave out, turning her in his arms and kissing her with fierce possession. Lucy responded with equal fire, her hands working frantically at his clothes, unable to get his T-shirt over his head fast enough; her frantic fingers fumbled. 

Lucy moved to unclasp her bra when Tim’s hand rested on hers, stopping her. “Leave it on. You look so fucking hot in it. “

Lucy huffed in slight surprise, “So good you used the word fuck in emphasis?”

Tim pressed his arousal against her body, “Fuck…yes,” he growled. 

At that, Lucy quickly unbuttoned his jeans and pushed both the denim and boxers down in one push, her eyes locking on his length. 

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to keep you on your knees,” he teased. 

Lucy glided her hand up his bare thigh, watching his muscles flex in her wake. “Would that be such a bad thing?” Lucy cocked her eyebrow, all mischief and mirth.  

“I’m taking you to bed, as much as I’d love nothing more than to have your mouth wrapped around me right now,” He slowly brought the fingers that had been inside her to his mouth, “But I want to be buried inside your delicious pussy more.” 

Even after what they’d just done in front of the mirror, this side of Tim caused something hot like lava to burn through her body, just for him. She’d never been modest with him, even as friends, but the openness to just be themselves in these lustful moments was empowering. 

When he lifted her onto the bed, Lucy pulled him down with her, her nails digging into his shoulders as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Her less than gentle scapes were met with a hiss and an involuntary thrust from Tim. 

“I love you,” he said, sliding her panties down her legs and positioning himself at her entrance, his eyes never leaving hers. "I love how you challenge me, how you drive me crazy, how you make me lose control."

"Then lose control," Lucy whispered, pulling him down for a kiss. "Love me like you mean it."

He moved off her, taking her by surprise.  Then guided Lucy to face the mirror, his hands gentle but sure as he positioned her on her knees on the corner of the bed. The reflection showed them both, Lucy's skin flushed with desire, Tim's eyes dark with love and want as he settled behind her.

"Look at us," he murmured, his voice rough. "Look how beautiful you are."

Lucy met his eyes in the mirror, her core clenching at the intensity she saw there. Tim's hands moved along her sides, his movements hungry and possessive. Their reflection made everything that much more intense. 

"I want to watch your face," Tim said softly, his forehead resting against her shoulder as he positioned himself behind her. "Want to see what I do to you when I love you like I mean it."

Something in his tone filled Lucy with excitement. Her Tim, undone. That’s the fantasy, and now she was going to watch him unravel.

When he slowly entered her, they both gasped at the sensation, their eyes locked in the mirror's reflection. Tim’s movements were painfully slow. Impatient, Lucy tilted her hips back, attempting to fully seat him inside her. Before she could follow through, one of Tim’s hands gripped her hip tightly. 

“Patience, Lucy.” 

His other hand moved up her body, brushing across her stomach and ribs, and more firmly over her lace-covered breasts, the friction sending a shiver through her body. But what was most surprising was where his hand stopped. 

Curling his fingers around the column of her throat, he held her gaze firmly in place, facing the mirror. 

“Watch us. Eyes on mine.” 

The angle at which he held her throat forced her back to press against his chest. Their size difference and Tim’s flexibility on full display as his knees spread wide to bring himself low enough to enter her. 

Tim finally began to move, savouring each stroke and watching Lucy's expressions change with each thrust, memorizing every soft sound she made.

"God, Lucy," he breathed, his hands steadying her as they found their rhythm. "You're so beautiful like this."

Lucy could see herself in the mirror and could see the way Tim looked at her like she was everything, and could watch the play of emotions across both their faces as they moved together. The visual added another layer of intimacy, making everything feel more intense, more connected.

“Harder! I’m not going to break!” Lucy shouted, feeling so overwhelmed at the intensity. 

A fine sheen of sweat began to glisten off Lucy’s chest as Tim pounded into her relentlessly, uttering the most profane things. Things that made Lucy appreciate the Tim who embraced losing control. 

His thumb gliding along her slit and pressing against her clit pulled her attention back to the present, shooting a jolt of unexpected pleasure through her body. The steady rhythm of his thrusts, his balls slapping against her while he filled her ears with filthy words, was almost too much. Just when she thought she could stay like this, in the fringes of an orgasm, delaying her own pleasure, he pinched her clit.  "Tim," she gasped, reaching back and wrapping her hand around the back of his head. His breath hot on her neck, as she felt them both running off the edge of the cliff.

"I've got you," he whispered, and in the mirror, Lucy could see the truth of it written across his features.

Afterward, they lay tangled together, hearts racing, both processing what they’d just shared. 

“That was…” Lucy started, but trailed off. 

“Yeah. It was.” Tim said, without context. 

“Were you holding out on me? That was hot, Tim. Like, I don’t know if anyone has ever made me feel so sexy,” Lucy confessed. 

Tim's grin was pure satisfaction. "Maybe I was, but I plan on doing a lot more of that."

"Promise?" Lucy asked, her eyes bright with mischief.

"Absolutely," Tim replied, already planning all the ways he intended to thoroughly worship and ruin her.

They eventually returned to their abandoned tasks, though the closet organization turned into an extended game of Lucy modelling various outfits while Tim provided increasingly distracted commentary from his position on the bed.

"This is my court appearance look," Lucy announced, emerging in a conservative pantsuit that somehow still managed to look sexy on her.

"Very professional," Tim said, though his eyes were tracking the way the jacket hugged her curves. "Though I'm remembering why that particular outfit gave me inappropriate thoughts during court days."

"Inappropriate thoughts?" Lucy raised an eyebrow. "Care to elaborate, Sergeant?"

"I was thinking about what you might be wearing underneath it," Tim admitted, his voice dropping. "And how much I wanted to find out."

Lucy's smile turned wicked as she slowly unbuttoned the blazer. "Well, now you can find out whenever you want."

"Come here," Tim said, his voice taking on that commanding tone that never failed to make Lucy's pulse race.

"But I have more outfits to try on," she protested, even as she moved toward him.

"They can wait," Tim said, pulling her down onto the bed. "I have better ideas for how to spend our time."

Hours later, they finally emerged from the bedroom, thoroughly satisfied and completely dishevelled. The donation pile had grown considerably, though mainly because Tim had declared certain items "too distracting" and banned them from Lucy's wardrobe entirely.

"I'm going to start dinner," Tim announced, running a hand through his sex-mussed hair. "Something special."

"Want help?" Lucy offered, though she was still wearing nothing but Tim's discarded shirt and had no intention of putting on actual clothes.

"Absolutely not," Tim said, his eyes darkening as they travelled over her legs. "You in my kitchen wearing nothing but my shirt is not conducive to food preparation."

"Your loss," Lucy said with a grin, stretching in a way that made the shirt ride up. "I make an excellent sous chef."

Tim groaned. "You're going to be the death of me, Chen."

"That's the plan," Lucy replied sweetly. "I'll take Kojo outside and let you work your magic."

From the backyard, Lucy could see Tim moving around the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, looking like he was preparing for battle rather than dinner. She threw Kojo's tennis ball and tried not to think about how domestic this all felt, how right it was to be here with him.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Angela, and Lucy grinned as she snapped a quick selfie, sun-kissed and glowing, with Kojo photobombing in the background.

Lucy: Best Saturday ever. Thank you for believing in us before we believed in ourselves.

Angela's response was immediate: OH MY GOD, you look like you've been thoroughly ravaged! I'm so happy I might cry. Also, Wesley owes me a hundred bucks.

Lucy: A hundred? What was the bet?

Angela: That you'd be together before the end of the month. Easiest money I ever made.

Lucy: How many betting pools did you guys have on us, because I heard Grey cleaned house.

Angela: How did you hear about that?

Lucy: When Tim went to Grey, he thought you put him up to it as a prank. To prank him about winning the pot. 

Angela: There was more than one betting pool. I’ll say no more. Enjoy the rest of your Saturday, Lucy. You deserve this.  You both do. 

Lucy: We do, don’t we? <3 

When Tim finally called her for dinner, Lucy's breath caught at the transformation of the patio. He'd set the table with actual linens and flickering candles, a small arrangement of sunflowers—her favourites, though she'd never told him that—in the center.

"Tim," she breathed, touched by the obvious care he'd taken. "This is beautiful."

"You deserve beautiful," he said simply, pulling out her chair. "Besides, after a day like today, dinner should be just as memorable."

The pasta was perfection. Fresh pappardelle in a sauce that tasted like it had been simmering for hours, rich with tomatoes and herbs.

"This is incredible," Lucy said, savouring another bite. "When did you become such an amazing cook?"

"Lots of practice and YouTube tutorials," Tim admitted. 

They talked and laughed as the sun painted the sky in brilliant colours, wholly absorbed in each other. Lucy felt like she was living in a dream. This was the perfect domestic scene with the man she loved, everything she'd never dared to hope for.

"I have something for you," Tim said as they finished eating, suddenly looking almost nervous as he pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket.

"Tim, dinner was already perfect—"

"Just read it," he interrupted, his ears going slightly pink. "I know we joked about a new agreement this morning, and I thought... well, maybe you'd want something more official."

Lucy unfolded the paper, her eyes widening as she read:

BRADFORD-CHEN PARTNERSHIP AGREEMENT
Relationship Edition

I, Timothy Bradford, promise to:

• Love Lucy Chen completely, fiercely, and without reservation
• Protect her heart the way I protect her life—with everything I have
• Be her equal partner in all things, never her superior
• Choose her every single day, in every way that matters

Lucy Chen promises to:

• Let herself be loved without fear or hesitation
• Trust Tim Bradford with her whole heart and her whole life
• Build something beautiful together based on honesty, laughter, and excellent coffee and tea
• Accept that his need to protect comes from love, not control
• Stop hiding how many treats are fed to Kojo

Together we swear:

• To face whatever comes as partners, never alone
• To remember that home isn't a place—it's each other
• That this supersedes all previous agreements 

Signatures:

Timothy Bradford ____________________

Lucy Chen ____________________

Lucy looked up at him, tears shimmering in her eyes. "Tim..."

"Too much?" he asked, suddenly uncertain.

"It's perfect," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Absolutely perfect."

She signed her name with trembling fingers, then watched as Tim added his signature with the same careful precision he brought to everything important.

"So it's official?" she asked, holding the paper like it was precious.

"It's official," Tim confirmed, pulling her into his arms. "You're stuck with me now. 

“I’m going to frame it,” Lucy said between giggles. 

“You would.” 

Inside, the house felt different somehow, charged with new possibilities now that they'd made their promises official. Tim set their signed agreement carefully on the kitchen counter.

"So," Lucy said, moving closer until she was pressed against his back, her arms sliding around his waist. 

Tim turned in her arms, his hands settling on her hips. "So, now we celebrate properly."

"And how exactly do we do that?" Lucy asked, though the heat in his eyes was already making her pulse race.

Tim's answer was to lift her onto the kitchen counter, stepping between her legs with predatory grace. "I have some ideas."

"Do you now?" Lucy's voice was breathless as Tim's hands skimmed up her thighs, pushing the hem of his shirt higher.

"Mmm," Tim hummed against her neck, finding that spot that made her arch into him. "I'm thinking we should christen every surface in this house. Make sure you know you belong here."

"Every surface?" Lucy gasped as Tim's teeth grazed her pulse point.

"Every. Single. One." Tim punctuated each word with a kiss along her collarbone. "Starting with this kitchen counter."

Lucy's laugh turned into a moan as Tim's mouth found the sensitive spot below her ear. "What if the neighbours see?"

"Let them see," Tim growled, his hands already working at the buttons of the shirt she was wearing. "Let everyone know you're mine."

When the shirt fell away, Tim stepped back to look at her, his eyes dark with desire. Lucy felt powerful under his gaze, beautiful, desired and completely his.

"I love you. I love that you're here, in the kitchen, in my life, forever."

"Then show me," Lucy challenged, pulling him closer. "Show me how much you love me."

Tim's response was to claim her mouth in a kiss that was pure fire; all the love they'd written into their agreement poured into the desperate press of his lips against hers. And as Tim worked her shirt off, eliciting a gasp from Lucy, she realized with visceral clarity this was just the beginning. She realized that home had never been a place.

It had always been Tim.

And now, finally, they were exactly where they belonged.