Chapter Text
Lucy Chen popped open her compact, checking the status of her lip gloss for the 56th time. Folding her hand, she snapped it closed and dropped it back in her purse. Dark brown eyes scanned the front of the restaurant for anyone walking through the front door that screamed cop .
Deep breaths, Chen .
She’d gotten there ridiculously early, her nerves absolutely wrecked in anticipation of this date.
This blind date.
Although, with the amount of time Jackson has spent complaining about this man over the past six months, Lucy feels like she knows Tim Bradford well enough.
Classic superiority complex. Maybe a dash of narcissism. Control freak. Sadist.
Why she humored Jackson, she’ll never know.
Okay, that’s a lie . Lucy Chen was a people pleaser, especially for those she loved the most, seeking approval wherever she could get it: her parents, professors, friends…
Jackson West had been her best friend for years, and now her roommate. There wasn’t much she would not do for him.
Even if that was agree to a blind date with his training officer, as Jackson was currently following his dream to be a police officer like his father.
And Lucy… Well… Lucy was a psychology student in her sixth and final year of a doctoral degree at UCLA, with a string of bad boyfriends under her belt. The latest debacle had been the final straw, and up until a couple of days ago, she had declared celibacy for the rest of her life.
“I know, I know… I’m suuuuper late, I’m sorry,” Lucy huffed as she barged into the graduate office a few weeks ago. Her classmate, Noah Vaughn, looked up from the textbook he’d been reading.
“No worries,” Noah replied, shrugging. What was fantastic about him was that he meant it. He was the most chill classmate and research partner anyone could ask for. “You’re in luck. Our first subject had to cancel, so…”
Lucy let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”
As a doctoral candidate in Psychology at UCLA, Lucy was required to conduct at least one study as a program requirement. The undergraduate students were their test subjects, albeit highly unreliable test subjects. Then again who actually wanted to reminisce about their childhood traumas, which was the focus of their current research.
“Bad morning?” Noah asked, marking his place in the textbook, and closing it. But that was Noah, always giving you his full and undivided attention.
“You could say that…” Lucy sighed.
“What happened?” Noah patted the chair at the desk next to his. The graduate student office was barely a closet, and the department had somehow crammed five desks into the room. A price she’d had to pay as a doctoral candidate.
Lucy’s facade fell, hurt and sadness tugging her lips into a frown, and her shoulders slumped. She collapsed onto the chair, folded her arms on the desk, and buried her face with a groan.
“Come on,” Noah coaxed, rapping his knuckles against her desk. “Tell ol’ Noah what happened. You were supposed to be on another date with what’s-his-face. How did that go?”
Lucy mumbled her reply, the words muffled by her arms.
“What’s that now?”
“Emmett dumped me,” she said, louder this time.
“Dude… this guy seemed like a good one too! An EMT, the nurturing type. Did he say why?”
Lucy picked her head up, fly-away hairs stuck to her cheeks and chin. She couldn’t even cry about it anymore, but she damn sure couldn’t laugh. The run of bad luck she’d been having with men lately was absolutely tragic.
“He dumped me, via text , because things were moving too fast for him, and he just didn’t have the time to dedicate to a relationship.”
Noah rolled his eyes. “Moving too fast? That’s a new one… considering this was your, what, fifth date? And he’d not given you so much as a kiss on the cheek.”
Lucy groaned again, leaning back and letting her body flop back against the chair. “Tell me about it. I’m so done. Why do I have such horrible luck with men?”
“Because there are horrible men out there,” Noah shrugged.
“Wow…”
“I know, I know. Not even defending my own sex, right? You do have the worst luck picking them, my friend. But I am still convinced you will meet the one .”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “The soulmate business again? Come on, Noah. It’s so… pedestrian. And not realistic. But I keep forgetting that’s what you’re writing your thesis about.”
Noah shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a romantic. I just wanna know why some people feel such deep connections, you know?”
Lucy laughed just as a knock on the doorframe announced their next undergraduate test subject. Lucy forced a smile and welcomed the young undergrad, ready for another long day of research.
Bless Noah and his unrelenting patience for her.
Lucy resisted the urge to reach for her compact again, but did check the time on her phone. The agreed upon meeting hour was almost nigh, and she couldn’t help but feel like she was walking to her execution.
~*~
Tim Bradford sulked, shoulders hunched slightly as he sat -- okay, Tim, call it like it is-- stalled in the driver’s seat of his truck.
The bet had been too good to pass up, and Tim is starting to suspect that West knew that, and exploited the freakishly competitive side of himself.
Another time, he might’ve been pissed, but he had to admit he was impressed . Football star, valedictorian, and top recruit of his Academy class was on West’s resume for a reason.
Glancing down at himself, Tim smoothed his palms down his shirt for the eighth time since leaving his house. At his point, he was surprised that he wasn’t wrinkling the shirt.
Jesus, why did he feel nervous?
Tim reached for his phone, situated in a cupholder in the center console, and checked the text message from Jackson once again. Yep, right on time. Early, actually. Right location. Looking for a… Lucy Chen.
It had been years since Tim was in the dating game. Maybe once upon a time he might’ve been considered charming. But now most of the people he talked to on the daily were those committing crimes or those in distress. He’s almost positive this Lucy Chen woman will not be doing either of those things.
A blind date, really, Tim?
It was so damn cliche. And to allow a rookie to set this up? He’d lost his ever-loving mind.
Four months officially divorced. Years spent apart. Dating and women had not been high on Tim’s list of priorities. But damn if Jackson hadn’t made some compelling arguments when he pitched the idea.
“Hey, so… you think I could start wearing short sleeves?”
“No. My rookies wear long sleeves their entire probation. Short sleeves are a privilege you earn only after you’ve put in your year.”
Tim could tell Jackson barely held back a frustrated sigh.
“Please, Bradford. I passed the six month test with flying colors. I’ve risen to the occasion for every Tim Test. It might as well be the surface of the sun outside. I think I’ve earned it.”
Tim Bradford, hardass training officer extraordinaire, stared stoically out the windshield. “Need I remind you about our A/C discussion?”
Jackson barely contained a snort of laughter.
Their rookie/T.O. relationship had come a long way since Jackson joined Mid-Wilshire. There were a few moments that seemed touch and go, but when Tim had gotten shot on his second day out, and Jackson had to drag his ass to cover… well… Tim would never admit it but they bonded .
“When’s the last time you went on a date?”
Tim almost felt whiplash from the abrupt turn in conversation. “Really? We’re going to have this conversation? When you know personal business is strictly forbidden from being discussed while on duty.”
“It’s a serious question. I know you and Isabel are officially divorced. You’ve been split for years. Don’t you think you deserve a little happiness?”
“Boot, I’m happy every time I clock in. I’m even more happy when I clock out and you can no longer annoy me with your non-stop talking.”
“I think you’re afraid to date again. Been a while, hasn’t it? You’re scared to put yourself out there.”
If only Jackson knew just how much he’d hit the nail on the head. And struck a sensitive nerve.
“I am not afraid,” Tim huffed, like Jackson had insulted him, his mom, and the rest of his ancestors.
“You are!” Jackson crowed. “You’re afraid you don’t remember how to talk to a woman!”
Tim came to a screeching halt at a red light, laying on the brakes a little too hard -- maybe on purpose -- sending them both forward and then back against their seats “I know exactly how to talk to a woman!”
“Like you knew how to talk to that fake psychic that one time? She came on hot, and you were so flustered, man. Like, you had zero clue what to do or say. It was priceless.”
“Boot…” Tim said, that one word a serious warning.
“Okay, okay, look… how about we make a little wager. I bet I can set you up on a date with a fantastic woman, one you’ll have fun and enjoy yourself with, and when that happens… I get to wear short sleeves.”
Tim remained silent, mulling over West’s proposal. The only hint Tim was even considering it was the way a muscle in his jaw worked as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. Tim could never pass up a bet.
“Okay…” He agreed reluctantly. “I’ll see that wager, and bet you that if I don’t have a good time, and it ends horribly, then you have to do fifty pushups after every call for an entire shift.”
Jackson didn’t hesitate. “Deal.” He stuck his hand over the center console, which Tim immediately took. After a brief shake, they continued on their day like the bet hadn’t even been made.
Damn Jackson for his tempting Tim’s competitive streak.
Tim sucked in a deep breath, smoothed one palm down the front of his shirt, and climbed out of his truck. The walk from the parking garage to the restaurant felt weighed down, like he wore cement shoes.
~*~
Lucy looked up from the menu she definitely wasn’t reading just as a tall man walked through the front door.
She didn’t know how, but she knew immediately this had to be Tim.
Okay, maybe she did know how.
He was tall, but then everyone was taller than her. His dark blonde hair was styled into a neat high and tight that screamed ex-soldier. He wore brown casual boots, a pair of dark wash jeans, and a dark gray, long-sleeved henley. Lucy watched as he spoke to the hostess for a second, and scrambled to hide behind the menu when both their gazes turned to her.
Oh God, oh God…
Lucy peaked over the top of the menu, and watched, admittedly transfixed, as the man weaved through the tables to get to her. There was this rather adorable barely-there smile on his full lips, and suddenly it felt like those moments in romantic comedies where one of the main characters made a slow motion entrance, music rising in the background.
Despite the rising anxiety, Lucy felt her lips twitch upward into a little smile of her own.
“Hi,” he greeted as he neared. Lucy scrambled to her feet, wanting to be on a (somewhat) equal level. “I’m Tim. Tim Bradford.”
Swallowing thickly, Lucy took his proffered hand. The minute their palms clasped, something wiggled in her chest and curled around her heart. His hand was warm, soft except for the rough patches of calluses, and best of all, his palms weren’t sweaty.
Unlike her’s, probably…
“Lucy Chen,” she replied, trying her hardest not to give away the fact that little tingles crinkled up from her hand and into her wrist from where his fingers had curled around hers.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lucy Chen,” Tim said, his smile widening.
Oh no .
Who knew a smile could be that disarming?
~*~
“Remind me again why you dragged me out here?” John Nolan asked from the driver’s seat of his truck.
“Because… I need to see my master plan in action,” Jackson said, before lifting a pair of binoculars to his eyes.
Tim had just walked into the restaurant. Jackson watched, riveted, as Tim made his way towards where Lucy sat. He watched his best friend hurry to her feet. He watched them shake hands. Then watched that handshake last longer than social norms deemed appropriate. Then… Tim smiled .
“Holy shit,” Jackson breathed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Robocop knows how to smile…”
“ What ? Lemme see?” Nolan made grabby hands for the binoculars. Jackson handed them over. “Wow… who knew he even had the muscles to make that work.”
Jackson grinned so wide, his face could crack. It took everything in him not to rub his palms together in glee and cackle like a movie villain.
He loved it when a plan came together.
“All of this for short sleeves?” Nolan inquired.
Jackson shook his head, snatching the binoculars back.
“No, my friend. Though that is an added bonus.”
The truth was that he didn’t even care about the bet. He’d be more than happy to do 50 push ups after every call, but his gut told him he wouldn’t have too.
Despite everything to the contrary, over the past six months Jackson had come to see Tim Bradford for the person he was underneath that hard shell he projected to the world. Tim acted like he didn’t do feelings . Acted as though he didn’t care about a lot of things.
Jackson had quickly come to realize that it was just Tim’s way of coping with his emotions.
Jackson understood. He’d been around cops his entire life. They had to compartmentalize, to not dwell on the things they saw on the job.
Not to mention, men, in general, don’t learn from an early age that feelings are okay . Nor do they learn how to process them.
As Lucy would say, fuck the patriarchy and fuck fragile masculinity.
But Jackson had seen through the cracks. He’d seen the way Tim spoke to children, how he calmly conversed with women in distress. The bottom line was that Tim was a good man. A fiercely protective man. All bark, maybe some bite, but entirely squishy and soft underneath. Like a charred marshmallow left too long over a campfire.
The other bottom line was that Jackson absolutely hated the men Lucy picked, though he could never outright say that to her without her feeling offended. The last boyfriend, Emmett the EMT, the one that he wouldn’t even call a boyfriend because of the very few dates they’d been on, had been the proverbial last straw for Jackson as well.
Lucy deserved so much better. She was intelligent, beautiful, smart, and tough as nails. She was the kindest, most generous friend Jackson had ever had. The kind that would stay up with you, eating Ben and Jerry’s, marathoning some crappy reality show. The kind that would come pick you up at 3 a.m. after going a little wild at a college party. Lucy was sensitive, perceptive, literally the embodiment of a good psychologist. And she would be one. Jackson was sure of it. And if there was anyone that could handle Tim’s prickliness, it would be her.
Consider it intuition, but Jackson firmly believed in his gut and his heart of hearts that Tim Bradford and Lucy Chen would get along famously.
Too bad he was dead wrong.