Work Text:
Tim asks Lucy to grab a drink for several reasons – none of which have anything to do with the fact that her voice in the passenger seat was the only thing that had gotten him through their shift today – but for some reason, he doesn’t expect her to say yes.
He figures she’ll shake her head in that small, unexpected way she’s got when he asks her to do things outside of work or compliments her, like she’s surprised. He figures she’ll say she’s got to do something with Tamara, or get home and watch The Bachelor with her fantasy league, or some other Lucy activity. He figures she’ll slide her hand over his bicep and squeeze it as she says, “how about later this week?”
He does not think she’ll rock back on her heels, purse her lips, look down at his shoes, then drag her eyes up his body before meeting his gaze and nodding. He does not think she’ll say, “Where to, Sergeant?”
He figures Las Torres is safe territory, so they hop in his truck because street parking is terrible and he watches her fiddle with the air conditioning vents for a solid five minutes before she’s satisfied. They’d come pretty close to a dead kid today and he can tell it’s rattled her up – she’s been jittery since they left the hospital, and the ride back to the station had been far too quiet for his liking. Now, in his truck, she pokes at his radio presets and squints at him with each press of the next button.
“Tim,” she sighs, her voice thick with laughter, “what’s yacht rock, and why do you have it as a preset?”
Tim sighs, frowning and pressing the button for the 80s station, knowing she’ll at least know the songs playing there. “Yacht rock is...an acquired taste that you clearly haven’t acquired, Chen.”
“Clearly,” Lucy hums, and he peeks over at her, a gentle smile on his lips as she laughs, settling back in her seat. Bon Jovi washes over their conversation and he hears Lucy singing along under her breath, satisfied as she scrolls through her phone while Tim crawls down Wilshire, hitting more red lights than he’d like.
By the time they’re settled on barstools at Las Torres, Lucy seems a little more relaxed than she had when he’d caught her walking out of the locker room. Her shoulders have lost a bit of their tension, and she’s smiling into her tequila soda as he takes a long sip from his whiskey glass, his eyes on her as she shuts her own, small crinkles at the corners of her eyes as the tequila burns the back of her throat. Tim chuckles, raising his brow at her when she frowns at him, setting her own glass down on the bar a bit harder than necessary. “You know, I think when you retire, you’re going to wind up buying this place.”
He nearly misses it, mostly because she says it as though it’s an insult rather than an observation, and shakes his head once the words penetrate his brain and he understands them. “You think I’m going to retire and buy a bar?”
Lucy shrugs, leaning over a bit and settling her elbow on the bar top. She rests her chin on her hand, gazing up at him as she speaks, a lazy smile on her lips. “I think it’d suit you,” he thinks she’s looking at his mouth, but he’s not going to let himself actually consider that. “You like people, you especially like cops...you know how to make a good drink, you know how to break up a fight,” she shrugs, “you’d hire an accountant.”
Tim laughs, taking a long sip of his whiskey before he speaks. “You don’t think I’m good with money?”
Lucy frowns, a laugh in her throat. “Of course that’s what you’d pick up from all of what I said, oh my god.”
“I heard the other things,” Tim shakes his head, chuckling. “I...agree with you, for the most part. I do make a good drink,” he shrugs. “I don’t know if I’d want to deal with drunk people day in and day out.”
Lucy softens a little, nodding. “I mean, that’s why you have bartenders. Besides, you don’t want to be on your feet all day when you retire.”
“What do I want to do,” he grins at her, shaking his head, laughing at the look on her face – the quiet, smug little grin on her lips, like she’s about to let out a hiccup of laughter, the little hint of severity in her gaze so he can tell this is at least a somewhat serious conversation, “when I retire?”
“Sit,” she laughs, shrugging. “Teach Kojo tricks. Go to Italy and eat your weight in pasta, then come home and own a bar so you can hear all the cop gossip going around.”
Tim shakes his head. “What, you’re writing me off the second I retire?” He hums, low, finishing off the whiskey in his glass before he speaks. He raises his brow, his lips still against the rim. “I figured you’d be the one feeding me cop gossip.”
Lucy bites on the rim of her glass and he watches, her lips wet with tequila, as he settles his own down and pushes it towards the bartender. “Oh, yeah? You leave me all alone and I’m just supposed to call you after my shifts and give you the 4-1-1?”
“The 4-1-1,” Tim chuckles. “I didn’t realize we were old, now.”
Lucy laughs, shaking her head and settling her glass down. She settles her hand on Tim’s forearm and he glances down at her fingers, licking his lips as he watches her face grow gravely serious. “We’re not old, Tim. I’m just trying to speak in a language you can understand, considering,” she shrugs, the smile in her eyes betraying her, “you’re pushing eighty-five.”
“Hey,” Tim laughs, unable to stop himself, the grin spreading across his face as he shakes his head at her, his arm flexing up into her palm. “It’s ninety-five, actually. Don’t tell Grey, he’ll make me turn in my badge. Although, if I’m ninety five...” Lucy grins at him, her face flushed as she traces her finger around the rim of her glass. Tim slides his water towards her, raising his brow, and Lucy frowns but accepts it, lifting it to her lips.
He takes her in for a long moment as she sips from his condensation slicked water glass, a small bead dripping past her chin and trickling down her neck. As much as he wants to, he doesn’t let his eyes follow it further down. Instead, he keeps his eyes on her mouth as Lucy pulls the glass away. “Today was the kind of day that makes you think about it,” she says, and he has to tear his eyes from her lips so he can process the words. He finds her eyes, finds them a little sad, and sucks in a breath, nodding.
“Yeah,” he breathes out, taking a moment. He turns to find the bartender in front of him, whiskey bottle in hand, and he slides his free palm over his glass, shaking his head. When he looks back at Lucy, her eyes are soft, a little wet. “Hey,” he shakes his head, sliding his arm out from under her hand and settling it on her knee, squeezing it gently. “We didn’t lose anyone today, did we?” Lucy lets out a slow breath and he watches her shut her eyes, shaking her head. “That’s what matters.”
He watches as Lucy nods. “I know...just a close call. I’m really sick of close calls.” Her voice is quiet, and he leans in to hear her better in the buzzing din of the bar. “I know it comes with the territory, but it’s hard to get used to.”
Tim nods, swallowing as he keeps his eyes on her, his hand firmly on her knee. He lets himself think for a long moment before he speaks. “You don’t get used to it...not really,” he shakes his head, holding her gaze. “I don’t think you should get used to it, either. You’re one of the kindest people I know, Lucy...you don’t want to lose that piece of yourself, turn it off and let yourself harden so that a nearly-dead kid doesn’t freak you out.” He slides his palm over the tear in the kneecap of her jeans, her skin smooth and warm against his calloused hand. “You’re fine just how you are.”
Lucy swallows audibly, and he realizes how close their faces are, realizes he can smell the tequila on her breath. “You think so?”
Tim furrows his brow, tracing his thumb in a slow circle around her kneecap, pressing his lips together. He swallows, shaking his head, feeling the smile spread across his face. “Of course I think so.”
Lucy hiccups, leaning back on her barstool and Tim sits up a bit, sliding his hand off her knee. He watches as she finishes her drink, then picks up his water glass, tipping her head back as she drinks it down. Once she’s finished, she sets the glass down and turns towards him, her knees knocking against his thigh. “You do appreciate me, don’t you?”
Tim rolls his eyes, recalling the moment a few months before when she’d asked him what else he appreciated about her, outside of good work. He shakes his head slowly, shrugging his shoulder and tilting his head. “You’re easy to talk to.”
Lucy hums softly, pressing her fingers along his forearm and smiling up at him before sliding off the barstool. “You’re not so hard to talk to yourself, Tim.” She squeezes his forearm lightly and he looks down at it before watching her head through the crowd towards the bathrooms in the back.
He orders them both more water, hooking his foot against the rung of her barstool and pulling it further towards his own seat. He figures he wouldn’t mind her being a little closer when she gets back.
–
Lucy had sent a text that said ‘Bring wine, please...good wine’ and for some reason, that’s what’s tripping him up.
She’d invited him over for dinner after their shift – something they’ve done dozens of times, at this point – and he’d stopped home to let Kojo out, but the wine threw him a curveball. They didn’t usually have wine. If anything, Tim usually makes some ridiculous cocktail recipe she has scrawled onto a corner of a sheet of paper and drinks about a quarter of it before dumping the rest in her glass.
There’s enough going on between them without adding wine.
Technically, there’s nothing going on between them – he is Tim, she is Lucy, and they are friends the way they’ve always (always?) been – but if you squint, something’s shifted and he’s pretty sure they can both feel it. There’s less space between them, nearly constantly. If he can tap his arm to hers, he will. If she can brush her hip against his, she will. His hand now casually reaches out to steady her back, while hers comes down to grip his forearm and reaffirm her points. They’re touching, now, and it’s consistent.
He doesn’t dislike it.
In fact, he really likes it. He remembers the spots where her fingers have been, remembers the brushes of skin against skin as he’s driving home, as he’s letting Kojo out into the back, as he’s sliding into bed and pressing his face into the pillows.
Anyway. Lucy texts him asking about wine, and he’s not even sure they should be drinking water together, let alone something with alcohol content, considering the touching.
He’s been standing in the aisle at the liquor store in between their places when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He’s holding a bottle of riesling in one hand and a rosé in the other, staring down at his hands and wondering when the fuck he started second guessing his choices in wine, when he feels it buzz again, then again. He sets the rosé down and tucks the riesling under his arm, sighing as he makes his way down the aisle and grabs his phone.
Your food’s getting cold, Bradford.
Okay, fine, it’s not, but are you okay?
He hums, shaking his head as he steps into the line leading up to the register and smiling down at his phone as he types with one hand, slowly.
What, you think I got myself lost at the liquor store? Be there in 15.
He starts to continue, asking about the wine, considering his choice again before deleting it all. He’s not totally sure when he became the one second guessing things in their relationship, shaking his head as he deletes another half-finished sentence (about the rosé, this time). He looks down at the three dots of Lucy typing and can imagine her thumbs moving furiously across her screen, probably a touch of tomato sauce on the corner of her finger, and figures she'll care about his wine selection as much as any other person he has a relationship – friendship – with would.
He swallows, tucking his phone back into his pocket and ignoring the thrum in his stomach at the thought of sucking her tomato sauced thumb into his mouth as he makes his way up to the register to pay.
By the time he’s at Lucy’s door – only thirteen minutes later – he’s got four more messages from her that he hasn’t bothered to read, and he watches with his brows raised as she swings the door open with a frown on her face. She looks like she’s going to stomp her foot. It takes all he has in him not to laugh at her.
“Hi,” he says, after she’s stared up at him in annoyance for several seconds, her arms crossed over her chest.
Lucy rolls her eyes and takes a step back from the doorway, turning on her heel as Tim crosses the threshold, turning around to lock her door before following her into the kitchen. He brushes his arm against her lower back as he moves past her to put the wine in the fridge, ignoring the way she bristles at his hand. He’s not exactly sure what she could be mad at, so he figures he must be reading her wrong.
In the back of his mind, he knows that’s not it – he’s fairly certain he’s never read Lucy wrong, before, not once.
He slips the wine bottle into the fridge and then makes his way around the counter, sitting on one of the low backed chairs she has pushed beneath the lip of the island and watching as she frowns down at the sauce she’s mixing. “What seems to be the problem, Officer,” he asks, his voice soft, after a long few moments of quiet. He nods his chin towards the sauce pan. “Sauce not working out for you?”
Lucy huffs, shaking her head and lifting the wooden spoon out of the pan. She cups her hand beneath the spoon and reaches over the counter, holding it out to Tim. “Taste that,” she doesn’t meet his eye, but looks down at her phone, glowing on the countertop. Tim frowns, leaning over and blowing on the spoon before tasting the sauce on the tip, the flavor masked by the heat for a second. Lucy looks up at him, her brow knit. “I swear I did it step by step, but it’s not coming out right.”
Tim settles into the chair and lets the warmth of the sauce dissipate, the flavor washing over his tongue as he looks over at Lucy, who’s biting her lip, her eyes curious as she stares at him. It’s only another moment before Tim realizes just how fucking hot whatever this sauce is -- not in temperature, but in spice. His mind flashes back quickly as the heat coats his tongue – he remembers Lucy before their shift this morning in roll call, poking fun at him for talking about the scoville units of the hot sauce he’d purchased recently.
She’d gotten him into Hot Ones, it was her fault.
“You couldn’t handle real spice if it bit you in the ass, Tim,” she’d mumbled into her coffee cup, laughing when Tim had scoffed at her. “What? I’m right...you talk way too big of a game.”
Tim had soured, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’ve seen me eat spice. You know I’m not just talking a big game.”
Lucy had rolled her eyes, knocking her shoulder into his. “Hot sauce isn’t spice, Tim. I’m talking real spice.”
Tim had opened his mouth to rebuff her, but Grey had nodded him up to the podium to get roll call started, so he’d just given her a stony look, trying not to laugh at the smug little grin on her lips.
Now, Tim feels his neck heating up. He meets Lucy’s gaze with realization in his eyes, and the second she sees it, her facade melts away. Gone is the slightly scattered, flinching, uncertain Lucy he’d walked in the house to, and standing in front of him is the actual Lucy he knows: a mischievous smirk, her teeth digging into her lower lip, a laugh bubbling up in her throat as she raises her brows at him. “What’s wrong, Tim? A little warm?”
Tim doesn’t have to look in the reflection of her fridge to know that his face is a deep, rosy red. He swallows begrudgingly, taking a deep breath as the spicy sauce makes its way down his throat miserably, warming him from the inside out. He feels like he’s burning up and shuts his eyes for a second, shaking his head as he manages to get a hold of himself.
He can hear Lucy moving around the kitchen – opening the fridge, pouring something into a glass, kicking it shut – as she laughs to herself, but he doesn’t open his eyes until he knows she’s in front of him. He takes her in slowly, his brain moving at a snail’s pace because it’s probably on fire, and lets out a low growl as he watches her bring a glass half full of milk up to his mouth. “Sip,” she says, her voice soft, still laughing. He listens, sipping slowly and feeling the milk soothe his tongue, then his throat. She sets the glass down and plants a hand on her hip. “You okay?”
“What the fuck was that?” He mops at his forehead with the back of his hand, shaking his head as Lucy snorts. If he weren’t burning from the inside out, he might take more notice at how she’s practically standing between his legs, at how close her face is to his, at the way she’s got one hand ghosting the side of his outer thigh. As it stands, he can barely form words, let alone notice the details of how they’re standing.
“Spicy szechuan sauce,” Lucy grins, raising her brow. “I added a few extra chili flakes for you, though, since you aren’t just talking a big game, or anything.”
Tim hums, shaking his head, his lips pressed together. He picks up the glass of milk and takes a slow sip, then sets it back down on the counter, pushing it towards her sink. “How many extra chili flakes?”
Lucy shrugs. “I usually do about a tablespoon, so...I figured if you’re a big spice guy with all those scovilles, you could handle me tripling it.”
“Tripling?” Tim raises his brows, sucking in a breath as he feels the heat settling in the pit of his stomach. “Tripling. You,” he frowns, shaking his head and watching as Lucy dissolves into laughter, her hand clutching onto his arm to keep herself steady. She ducks her head down and the crown brushes his pec, the scent of her shampoo wafting up into his nose. “You can’t...we can’t eat that, Lucy. That’s not food.”
Lucy lifts her head, her thumb pressing against his wrist as she grins up at him, breathless from laughter. “Tim,” she shakes her head gently, licking her lips. He feels his eyes fall to her mouth and watches as it twists into a grin, a wicked one at that. He catches her other hand moving up and settling against his shoulder. The warmth of her palm feels nice through his shirt, her thumb dragging lightly against the curve of his neck as her fingers drum against the back of his shoulder blade. “No way in hell I’m eating that monstrosity. There’s a pizza on the way.”
Tim gapes at her as she dissolves into another fit of laughter, his own hand coming up to wrap around her wrist to try and keep her hand in place as he watches, her skin flushing red as she laughs. “You’re a little shit,” he mumbles, and he can’t help the grin that washes over his face. “You know that?”
“Admit you think I’m funny, Tim,” she smiles up at him, and suddenly she is standing entirely between his legs, one of her hands absently on his thigh. “Admit it, right now.”
“No,” he laughs, trying to school his features and failing. “You’re literally the furthest thing from funny.” Tim squeezes her wrist lightly, raising his brows at her with his eyes a bit narrow. “You made me poison.”
“You were being a dick!” Lucy’s hand is pressed firmly to his collarbone, and he swears if he just dips his face down a bit, he could brush his lips over hers. He wonders if any of the spice is still on his mouth – if it would be enough for her to feel it. “You were all braggy about being able to handle spice, I wanted you to put your money where your mouth is.”
“You wanted to burn my tongue out of my mouth,” he grumbles, shaking his head lightly.
Lucy hums. “I’m pretty sure I’d like your tongue to stay right where it is, actually.”
Tim feels like he might choke a little, his eyes scanning over her face. There’s a challenge in her eyes that he recognizes, but he also isn’t sure he’s really ever seen before. He swallows, blinking slowly as a bit of the aftertaste from the spice hits the back of his throat. “Alright,” he nods just once, his voice low. “The tongue stays put.”
Lucy’s leaning up on her toes, her lips parted as though she’s about to say something when her door buzzer tears through the apartment and she jumps away from him, tearing her wrist from his grip and letting her hand fall from his neck. “That should be the pizza,” she rushes around the counter, grabbing the cash he now notices stacked neatly on the edge of the counter. “I’ll grab it.”
Tim nods, his mind moving slowly as he hops off the chair, pushing it back beneath the counter. He takes the sauce off the burner, shutting it off and running the sizzling pan under a stream of cold water in Lucy’s sink while she makes small talk with the pizza delivery guy, a slightly professional lilt to her voice that he recognizes as Officer Chen. When she shuts the door, he’s drying his hands off on a dish towel, the pan now scrubbed clean and settled into her dish drain. Lucy grins at him as she pushes the top of the pizza box open, raising her brow at him as she fishes out a slice and takes a bite. “See,” she smiles up at him and he catches himself staring at her mouth. “Doesn’t it feel better to have earned this?”
Tim snatches the pizza slice out of her hand, taking a large bite and chuckling to himself as she pouts up at him, rolling her eyes in an overdramatic sort of way. “You’re so funny,” he mumbles, frowning, ignoring the tug in the back of his mind reminding him that’s one of his favorite things about her.
“Mhmm,” Lucy grins, taking a bite of a second slice of pizza and bumping her hip against his, “and don’t you forget it.”
–
Lucy’s in his driveway riling Kojo up through the window when Tim opens the front door. He frowns, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against the door frame, raising his brows as he waits for her to notice him.
While he’s waiting, he goes ahead and notices her – notices her black leggings with the mesh panel down the side of the leg, notices her lavender sports bra, notices her hair tied into two low buns, notices the grin on her face as she waggles a bag from the specialty dog store she frequents for Kojo in front of the window.
He’s always noticing her, lately.
Anyway, it takes her a few moments to look up and notice him standing there – which he doesn’t mind, at least, because she’s laughing and smiling and he likes the way both of those things look on her. When she looks up at him, he feels the little bit of annoyance he’d had rumbling around his chest flood out of him slowly. “Hi,” he says, his brows raised, as she makes her way towards the front door. He can hear Kojo’s nails tapping against the floor in the next room, racing towards the door to greet Lucy. “I thought we were hiking tomorrow.”
Lucy shrugs, pressing the bag with the dog treat into Tim’s chest. “We can still hike tomorrow,” she bounces a little on her feet as she stands in front of him, her hands planted on her hips. “I just thought I’d see if you wanted to take Kojo out for a short one. Besides,” she nods her chin towards the bag, “I was in the neighborhood.”
Tim snorts, rolling his eyes. “Just perusing dog treats for fun, now?”
Lucy purses her lips, narrowing her eyes at him. “If it gets him to like me more than he likes you? Obviously.” Lucy pushes past Tim and kneels down, scratching Kojo behind the ears and pressing a kiss to the top of his head as his tail slaps excitedly against the wood floor, and Tim makes his way into the house, locking the door behind him.
He stashes the treat in the fridge and then heads back into his entry way, grinning when he sees Lucy and Kojo settled on the ground, the dog’s head in her lap as she scratches his belly. He looks down at his rumpled t-shirt and basketball shorts, sighing out a breath. “Let me change, first. And just a short one, okay? It’s hot.”
Lucy hums, nodding up at him with a smile on her face. “A short one,” she repeats, shrugging her shoulder. “Just to get some air.”
Tim grumbles out a sound before heading through the house to his bedroom, pulling his t-shirt over his head before he’s even through the door. He kicks it shut behind him and roots through his dresser slowly, wondering if he takes long enough if she’ll just let them stay here and watch a movie.
He knows Lucy too well, though – if she’s dragging him out of the house, today, it’s because she thinks he needs it.
He’d written this day off near the end of their shift the night before, when his phone had started buzzing in the center console of their shop and he’d picked it up to see his sister’s name scrawled across the screen. She didn’t call him for much, these days – especially not when he’d likely be on shift, especially not when a text would suffice. She was busy with his niece, busy with her life, just busy.
He didn’t mind answering personal calls in front of Lucy, so he’d grabbed it and listened as his sister had spiraled about their dad, a surprise visit, having to send him away...Lucy had slid her hand over his forearm as his knuckles had tensed, her fingers light against his skin while he’d grumbled into the phone about boundaries, about staying firm – the same pep talk he’s given his sister time and time again when their dad comes to her, groveling.
When he’d hung up the phone, he’d figured the worst of it was over – but after a few minutes, he heard it buzzing again, noticed this call was coming from a blocked number, and had looked over at Lucy with a stony frown before answering.
He’d stepped out of the car for this one, listening as his father spun a few lies over the receiver and started his spiel to ask for a loan – something Tim had also grown accustomed to hearing over the years – before Tim had stopped him. He’d stood firm, kept his boundaries, and told his father to leave him alone...all with Lucy watching him carefully from the passenger seat.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t handle his dad. He’d gotten to a point in his life where he understood that, as emotionally taxing as this kind of bullshit could be, he didn’t need to bother letting himself be taxed by it...it was more that when things did happen, he liked to take a day if he could and let himself decompress.
He’d blown up on too many people too many times because of shit that neither of them had done to let himself continue the cycle.
Anyway, when Lucy had suggested they hike this weekend on the way back to the station, he’d nodded and agreed to Sunday, ignoring Lucy’s low hum of confusion – their hikes were usually on Saturdays, nearly every week now, and it was rare that Tim switched their scheduling around. He’d reached over before they’d made it out of the station, nearly to the doors of the parking garage, and squeezed her wrist lightly. She’d nodded up at him, bumping her arm into his as she’d wished him a good night, and he’d figured that would be it until Sunday, or until one of them caved and texted the other.
He’d texted her first, but her showing up in his driveway probably superseded that.
He makes his way back into the living room and shakes his head as he watches Lucy practically rocking Kojo like a baby, the dog drooling onto her leggings, his eyes closed. “No loyalty,” he mumbles, laughing when Lucy looks up at him with a soft smile on her lips and presses a finger to them gently, shushing him.
“He got himself worked up and he needs to conserve his energy for the w-a-l-k,” she murmurs, looking back down at Kojo. “I’m just helping, Tim.”
Tim snorts, snapping his fingers and watching as Kojo yawns lazily, then looks up at him with doe eyes as he slowly gets to his feet and walks over to him slowly, whining. “Yeah, really helping him get energized, Lucy.”
He watches Lucy get to her feet and grabs the collapsible bowl and leash off the hooks on his wall, laughing as Kojo notices what he’s touching and starts to get excited, his tail wagging as he walks between him and Lucy sniffing. They’re quiet as Tim heads into the kitchen and gets his water bottles set up, as they pack up his truck and climb in, as they ride towards the trail Lucy had chosen.
He hadn’t realized this about her, originally – that even though Lucy was known for her chatter, even though he’d spent hours upon hours making fun of her for just how much talking she did, she knew that silence could be comfortable. Further, she knew when he needed quiet...and she let him have it.
They’re not in complete silence during their walk, but the conversation is minimal – instead, Lucy presses a hand to his forearm, brushes her fingers against the back of his hand, bumps her arm against his when she wants to point something out. She talks to Kojo in soft, dulcet tones that Tim finds have him nearly as enraptured as the dog, his eyes sticking to her lips as she murmurs something about finding a shady tree stop about halfway through the flat, empty trail.
They make it to a clearing and Lucy unclips the bowl from Kojo’s leash, looking up at Tim as she stoops down to pop it open. “Can I have his water?”
Tim nods, smiling down at her as he sits down on the ground and unzips his bag, fishing out the bottle and handing it to her. He watches as she pours the water into the bowl, then settles herself down next to him, mirroring his stance -- legs in front of him, knees bent, forearms resting against them. Tim looks over at Lucy, humming as he takes her in – a thin layer of sweat on her skin, her cheeks a bit flushed, squinting in the sunlight.
The tightness he’s felt in his chest is gone, he realizes, when she laughs softly at Kojo, who’s looking up at her with his jowls dripping onto the dirt. He swallows, shutting his eyes for a second and taking stock of himself – the little bit of tension he’s felt in his shoulders, radiating through him, that lick of uncertainty he’s used to is nowhere to be found.
He nudges her lightly with his shoulder. “Did you plot this with the dog, or come up with it all on your own?”
Lucy lets out a laugh, shrugging as she turns her head, resting her chin against her upper arm. “I don’t know what you mean,” she says, her voice soft. “I just wanted to go on a hike, Tim.”
He rolls his eyes at her, nodding. “Well, if it was a plan of your own making,” he lets himself pick over his words for a moment and feels her eyes on him, intent. “I...appreciate you knowing it would help.”
She leans over a bit, her whole body pressing into his for a second before she settles back, a grin on her lips. “I know you,” she shrugs. “Besides, there’s really nothing that can’t be solved by spending a little time in the fresh air.”
He wants to correct her, because he’s pretty sure there’s nothing that can’t be solved by spending a little time with her in the fresh air, but swallows it down.
–
“What do you think of the concrete?” Lucy’s head is tilted to the side when Tim looks over at her, her eyes unmoving as she speaks. “I think I like it better than the wrought iron.”
“I think,” Tim lets out a little laugh, keeping his eyes on Lucy as she purses her lips and squats down, running her finger along a stainless steel option, “I was fine with the first four you said you liked, and I’m fine with either of those, too.”
“Tim,” Lucy sighs, looking up at him over her shoulder, “don’t act like you’re not the most particular person on the planet, right now.”
“Oh, come on,” Tim ducks down, squatting next to her and resting his forearms on his thighs. He nudges her with his elbow lightly. “You don’t know everyone on the planet, that’s just ridiculous.”
Lucy huffs, but it turns into a laugh and she looks over at him in a fond sort of way that makes his stomach tighten. They’re face to face with a reflective metal fire pit in the middle of Home Depot, and he can’t manage to tear his eyes from her to survey the thing in front of him. “Seriously,” she says, after a long few moments of laughter. “What do you think of this one?”
Tim hums, taking in a long breath as he looks over at the metal. He squints at it, feeling Lucy’s eyes on him. “I don’t think you like it.”
“That’s irrelevant,” Lucy settles her hand on his knee and Tim drops his eyes down to it. “It’s not my fire pit.”
Tim shrugs. “You should like it, though. You’re going to have to look at it.”
“Oh, I’m going to have to look at it?” Lucy’s fingers press lightly into the denim of his jeans. “Why’s that?”
“Who else am I building fires for?” He doesn’t even bother to think about it, really, just answers. “You’re the one who wants me to have this thing so bad.”
“Hey,” Lucy laughs, and he lets himself look at her again, grinning as she smiles at him, laughter crinkling the corners of her eyes. “I want you to have it because you want one, not just...because I want one.”
Tim hums, shaking his head as he nods his chin towards the concrete option she’d fawned over earlier. It was a concrete half-sphere with a wire mesh top, and it matched the lounge chairs he’d set up in the yard already. That was good enough for him. “That one,” he says, keeping his eyes on it as he feels Lucy look over at him. She stands up, holding out her hand to pull him up with a soft laugh. Tim rolls his eyes, but takes her hand, standing to full height and reaching up to run his fingers along the side. “I think that’ll look nice.”
Lucy hums, crossing her arms over her chest – because she can’t reach up and touch the fire pit with him, he can tell – and looks up at it thoughtfully. She’s quiet for a long few moments, and he lets himself watch her unabashedly.
They’d planned to order in at his place, but after taking Kojo out into the backyard while he’d been scouring through takeout menus, Lucy had let him know they’d be running out to Home Depot because he needed a fire pit out back “immediately”. “Something is missing from this house, and it’s a fire pit, Tim. Imagine how cozy,” she’d cooed, moving around his kitchen like it was her own and grabbing his truck keys off the hook, jingling them in his face.
Tim hadn’t bothered trying to fight her, had just set the takeout menus back into their drawer and moved towards the front door, Lucy’s satisfied laughter in his ears.
Now, he watches as Lucy scans her eyes over the fire pit options – all of which were, for all intents and purposes, perfectly fine – and something tugs in his chest, a feeling he’s familiar with when it comes to Lucy, but one he’s never felt the need to name. She squints at the fire pits and tucks some stray hair behind her ear, and Tim presses his lips together when he realizes the only criteria he’s had for this stupid thing is that he can imagine Lucy sitting in front of it, her face illuminated by fire, her laughter mixed with the crackle of the wood.
She’s a permanent fixture in his life and he’s known that...but the feeling overwhelms him, a bit, crashing over him in the middle of the Home Depot. Lucy turns to him and he raises his brows, not bothering to try and pretend he wasn’t staring at her. “I think the concrete is the right choice.”
“Yeah?” He smiles, letting out a slow breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding as she nods, leaning into him a bit. “Good, that took a few hours less than I thought it would.”
Lucy narrows her gaze at him, shaking her head as Tim looks over his shoulder and flags down a salesperson to help get the fire pit down off the shelf and onto the pushcart he’d grabbed in the parking lot. She helps him lift it into the bed of his truck once he’s paid, planting her hands on the tailgate as they close it together. “I think you’re really going to like your new fire pit,” she hums once they’re in the truck, leaning over the center console with a smug grin, a package of logs in her lap.
Tim rolls his eyes as he backs out of the parking spot, then glances over at her. “I think you’re really going to like my new fire pit.”
“Oh, that’s a given. It’s basically for me.” Before Tim can fight her, she’s reaching over and squeezing his forearm, her fingers lingering for a long few moments before she pulls her hand back.
They ride back to his place in comfortable silence, the radio playing, Lucy singing along softly to an old Foo Fighters song he’s surprised she knows all the words to. He lets his mind wander when they’re like this, sometimes – lets himself drift off to a place where Lucy keeps her hands on him for the ride home, where she laces their fingers and settles them in her lap comfortably. He’s not sure when, exactly, he started doing this...but he knows it’s been happening for longer than he cares to admit, and as they pull into his driveway and Lucy starts chattering about how they need to get this thing set up before the sun sets, the feeling that had struck him at the store mixed with the thoughts of their hands woven together settle in his stomach.
He casts her a sidelong glance and watches as she scrolls through her phone, clearly looking for something to show him, and he unbuckles his seatbelt as he watches her, trying to tune back in on what exactly it is that she’s saying. “Seriously, I think it would look nice,” he catches, and then she’s looking at him with those soft eyes she has and raising her brows. “You could at least pretend to look at the photo, Tim.”
Tim coughs out a laugh and shakes his head, tearing his eyes from her and looking at the phone, outstretched to him. “Sorry,” he wraps his fingers around her wrist and pulls the phone a little closer to his face, taking in a photo of a fire pit surrounded by chairs and small cushions, edison bulbs like he’s already got hanging above the setup. There are various s’mores supplies on a corner table, and a basket of blankets tucked away next to one of the couches. “I got distracted.”
“Oh yeah?” He can hear that Lucy’s grinning without even looking at her. “What’s got you so distracted, Bradford?”
He keeps his grip on her wrist as he looks back up from the phone and meets her gaze, shrugging. “That’s what you want in the backyard?”
Lucy’s face is a little flushed as she nods, biting on her lower lip. “I think you’d like it...you secretly love having people over.”
“It’s not a secret,” he laughs, shaking his head. He brushes his thumb against her wrist lightly. “I agree, though, I think that would look nice...you can help me pick stuff out online after we get this thing set up and order dinner.”
Lucy raises her brows at him. “You’re going to make me a fire?”
Tim hums, feeling the smile stretch over his face slowly. “Well,” he drops his wrist and looks straight ahead, feeling her eyes trained on his face. “I have to have you here to make sure you didn’t sell me on a bum fire pit, Chen.”
Lucy scoffs and he can hear her muttering to herself as she hops out of the truck.
It isn’t until they’re curled up in chairs in front of the fire once the sun’s gone down that he realizes, fully, what the feeling pressing on his ribcage all day has been. He lets his eyes settle on her in the glow of the flames, Lucy watching Kojo – who’s settled at his feet – and holding a plate of Thai food in her lap, a comfortable silence between them as they watch the fire.
Tim sees her shiver a little and grabs a blanket off the side table next to him, standing in front of her chair and raising his brow. He tips his chin up so she’ll lift her plate and spreads the blanket over her lap, tucking it around her legs and beneath her feet before stepping back. “Thanks,” she smiles up at him, and he grins at her, staying close and nodding. “You like it out here?”
He nods, his eyes on her mouth. “I do,” his voice is low, even to his own ears. “Do you?”
Lucy hums and he watches her gaze move over his shoulder, her face softening at the look of the fire. “I kind of love it,” she breathes, and Tim swallows, slow. “It’ll be better when you have the rest, though.”
Tim laughs, shaking his head. “You’re going to have to come help me set it up when it gets here, you know.” Lucy nods and slips her hands into the pockets of Tim’s zip up hoodie, tapping her fingers against his sides through the fabric. “It won’t be right without you.”
Her eyes move up and the second her gaze meets his, he feels it again, firm against his ribcage, his heart thrumming as the feeling washes over him slow, but sure. “No?” Her voice is gentle, and Tim shakes his head. “Why’s that?”
Tim shrugs and straightens up slowly, patting his hands lightly over the outside of his hoodie pockets until Lucy slips her own out and settles them beneath her blanket. He murmurs something about how she has a better eye than he does as he moves back to his chair and grabs one of the containers of food off the table.
He wonders if she knows he’s lying, if she knows just how much he appreciates her presence here, curled up in the backyard of his home. He considers mentioning it out loud, but he lets himself look over at the fire as he breathes in the fact that his house doesn’t feel like a home without her.
–
Tim swears he’s good with kids.
That’s what he’d told Angela when she’d mentioned something about hiring a sitter so she and Wesley could go to his cousin’s wedding...and he is good with kids, usually. He’s always been great with his niece, he was good with his cousins when they were young, he knows what he’s doing...which is why he’s confused as to why Jack is screaming and hasn’t stopped in close to an hour.
He texts Lucy out of desperation, mostly – he knows she’s spent a fair bit of time with Jack over the past few months, and he figures maybe she’ll have learned some sort of trick he hadn’t thought of already. It’s a quick message – Jack won’t stop crying and I’m going nuts. Any ideas? We’ve eaten, burped, changed, changed again, took a walk...I’m running out of steam. – but it takes Lucy long enough to respond that he’s considering calling her when he hears a knock at the front door.
Tim knows it’s her before he opens the door, screaming baby in his arms. “You didn’t have to come here,” he says, but it’s drowned out by Jack, who Lucy scoops out of his arms with a sad little look on her face. She squeezes Tim’s bicep and makes her way past him, leaving him at the open front door as she bustles around easily.
“Did Uncle Tim forget about your teeth, buddy?” He can hear her as he makes his way back into the house, following her voice as it trails through the hallway from the kitchen. He leans against the cutout as Lucy bounces Jack with one arm, reaching around in the freezer with the other. “Uncle Tim didn’t think to look for your teething rings in here, did he, and those gums probably hurt...my poor boy.”
Tim huffs, tugging his phone out of his back pocket. Angela hadn’t mentioned teething, he’s pretty sure he would’ve remembered that. He scans over the text of every single thing he possibly could’ve needed to know about Jack once, then again, barking out a dry laugh as he looks back up at Lucy. “She didn’t tell me he was teething already,” he shakes his head, a frown on his lips.
Lucy raises a brow, passing Jack back to him and taking his phone out of his hand before moving back to the freezer. “Really?” She produces a frozen ring from the door and squeezes it lightly, shaking her head as she leans her back against the now-closed freezer door, scrolling through the text slowly. Tim bounces Jack, closing the gap between them and grabbing the teether out of her hand, slipping it into his mouth and watching as the baby closes his gums around it, sniffling up at Tim with a whimper.
“There you go, bud,” he murmurs, then looks back over at Lucy, who’s still staring at his text in confusion. “What?”
She shakes her head. “Go put him down,” she slides her hand over Jack’s head, her fingers brushing Tim’s shoulder as they slip through the baby’s hair gently. “I’ll tell you once he’s sleeping.”
“So, never,” Tim mutters, and he can’t help the little grin on his face when Lucy laughs at him. He brings Jack into the nursery, watching in bewilderment as the baby settles into his crib easily, his hand clutched around the teether. Jack yawns and looks up at Tim, who raises his brows down at the baby, sliding his hand gently over his arm. “You better remember this as me taking care of you, you hear me? Aunt Lucy might’ve saved the day , but this was guy time before she got here.”
Jack blinks up at him, biting on the teether and wriggling in his crib. “Besides,” Tim shakes his head, his eyes settling on the teether in Jack’s little fist, “we’re not going to tell Aunt Lucy just how smart she is...or how much I like how smart she is, are we? Secret between the boys.” Tim reaches his knuckle into the crib, bumping Jack’s fist with his finger and then hums, reaching up to wind up the mobile, watching as it captures Jack’s attention, his eyes growing more and more tired with each rotation. Once he’s sure the kid’s going to knock out, he grabs the baby monitor off the changing table and walks out of the room slowly, carefully closing the door behind him. He can hear the hum of the TV in the living room, purposefully soft, and he makes his way in, his face softening when he sees Lucy sitting on the couch, her feet tucked beneath her.
It feels surreal, in a way – putting down a baby, walking out into the next room to find Lucy cuddled on the couch, waiting for him.
It feels surreal in a way that he’s pretty sure it could be his life, someday.
“He’s sleeping?” Her face is hopeful, not conceited, when she asks. He nods and watches as she softens into a smile. “Good. Both of you looked stressed when I got here.”
“Yeah, I don’t know who was worse off,” Tim mumbles, flopping onto the couch next to her and scrubbing his hand over his face. He looks over at her and raises his brow. “How’d you know about the teethers?”
Lucy snorts, shaking her head and lifting her phone out of her lap. She holds it out to him and raises her brow, pointedly. “Angela texted me about them earlier today...she said you might forget where they are, so she wanted to make sure she had backup just in case they lost service at the reception.”
Tim squints, looking down at Lucy’s messages with Angela and scrolling slowly. “She never,” he shakes his head, looking up at Lucy, confused. “You saw what she sent me...and she didn’t tell me in person, either – she,” he stops, his brain slotting things into place, and tries not to throw Lucy’s phone. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. She set me up knowing I would text you.”
“She probably assumed we’d already be talking,” Lucy shrugs, and he can see her biting on her lower lip, clearly trying not to laugh. “Oh, come on, Tim...that’s funny.”
“Tell me that again once my ears stop ringing,” he mutters, rolling his eyes and handing her phone back to her. He reaches over her to grab his own phone off the arm of the couch where she’d set it down, but Lucy’s hand settles on his forearm and stops him. “What?”
“Let them have fun, Tim...you can rip her a new one later.” She smirks, shrugging. “Besides...we could do a hell of a lot better than a scathing text, you know.”
Tim sits up a bit, pulling his arm back from where it’s hovering in the space between them, raising his brow over at her. “You have ideas?”
Lucy hums, getting up off the couch. He watches as she stretches her arms over her head, her t-shirt riding up and revealing a long stretch of her lower back, a tattoo he’s pretty sure he’s never seen before. She looks at him over her shoulder, the smirk still firmly on her lips. He can’t stop fucking looking at her. “I’m saying we’re both good at things...and if we put our skills together, there’s no way we lose.”
Tim swallows, nodding slowly as he stares. “A winning team,” he murmurs, after a long moment.
Lucy grins at him and tips her head towards the kitchen. “Want to drink their beer and not replace it?” Tim lets out a loud laugh, hopping up off the couch and following her, settling his hand on her exposed skin as they walk into the kitchen. He stays behind her as she opens the fridge, grabbing two beers and then turning to face him, raising her brows. “What’s the smile for, Bradford?”
Tim lets his eyes scan over her face, noting just how close she is for a moment before he just focuses on her eyes, on her mouth, on her.
Beyond the look of her face, beyond the fact that she’d figured out Angela’s trick, beyond the fact that he’d texted her and she’d dropped everything to come help him out, the fact that she’s got a revenge plot brewing already is the thing that’s got him wrapped around her finger right now. He swallows, pressing his lips together and deciding before he’s able to think about it too long – he ducks his head down and finds her mouth with his own, one of his hands sliding over her cheek, the other settling on her hip and pressing her back against the refrigerator. “For you,” he murmurs against his lips, and then he’s kissing her the way he’s wanted to for months, if not longer.
Lucy’s arms loop around his neck and he feels the cool glass of the beer bottles between his shoulders, hears them clattering against each other as his tongue pushes into her mouth, his body pressing against hers easily. He hears her moan and lets out a low growl, lifting her up a bit to get a better angle, keeping his mouth firm against hers until he can’t breathe and has to pull back. He tips his face against hers, his lips still brushing her own as he tries to catch his breath. Lucy’s nose nudges his and he opens his eyes to find her looking at him, smiling, breathing heavily. “About time,” she murmurs, nipping on his lower lip.
He laughs, a little taken aback as he slides both hands down to scoop her up, shaking his head as he walks her over to the kitchen counter and sits her onto it, her legs wrapping tight around his waist. “Really? That’s what you’ve got to say?”
Tim presses light, open-mouthed kisses against Lucy’s jaw, down the line of her neck, pausing at her pulse and sucking lightly as she laughs, placing the bottles onto the counter before slipping her hand into his hair. “How about,” she tugs on his hair, forcefully enough that he lifts his head with a grumble and meets her gaze, “that I’ve been waiting for you to do that for weeks. That it was better than I even imagined. That you,” she licks her lips, “already had a beer tonight.”
He watches her for a moment, then leans in, kissing her again, holding her close. Before he lets the feeling take over entirely, he cements it in his brain that what he’d told Jack was right, after all: Lucy is a hell of a lot smarter than him.
–
Tim’s only confused for a few moments when he pulls into his driveway and finds Lucy’s car already parked there.
It’s been four days since he’d pushed her up against the fridge at Angela’s, and other than her dragging him into a secluded corner of the parking garage to slide her hands beneath his shirt and drive him insane before she’d started on the night shift two days ago, he hasn’t seen her. It’s not that they haven’t tried, but they’d both gotten busy — he’d had to drive out to his sisters the day after he’d babysat Jack, and they’d been on opposite shifts for the last couple days. He’d texted her about wanting to touch her more in the past 72 hours than he’s pretty sure he’s ever texted anyone about anything.
He hasn’t hated it, though.
Today had been her day to reset so she could start back on the day shift tomorrow, and she’d texted him around 3 in the afternoon – a short, simple If you have plans later, cancel them...because I have plans for you. He’d figured she would be his plans for later, anyway, but it was nice to have confirmation. He hadn’t heard from her for the rest of the afternoon and figured, after a while, that she’d just gone back to sleep...but now, seeing her car in his driveway, he thinks she might’ve been up to something else entirely.
Tim makes his way into the house quietly, his eyes scanning the front entrance and falling on her shoes, lined up with his own on the mat. He toes his shoes off and reaches down, scratching at Kojo’s head as he clears his throat and squints into the house, not noticing any of the lights in the main area lit up. “Where is she, buddy,” he mumbles down at the dog, laughing when Kojo snorts up at him, licking his wrist. “Hiding?”
Kojo retreats from the door, making his way into the living room and settling down in his dog bed with a massive bone, one Tim’s fairly certain looks new, and starting to chew on it. “Oh, she’s good,” he mutters to himself, feeling the grin spread over his face as he makes his way down the hall towards the bedroom. His door is open just a sliver, which he knows is his clue – he keeps his bedroom door shut when he’s not home so Kojo won’t barge in, and he knows she knows that.
He sucks in a breath before pushing the door open, blinking slowly and stopping in his tracks as he sees her in his bed, sitting up on her knees in a deep purple bra and matching panties, her hair falling over her shoulders. He opens his mouth to say something, but there aren’t any words in his head as he looks at her – there is only Lucy in lingerie, staring at him with a smile on her face that makes his insides feel like they’re melting. Instead, he traces the curves of her body slowly and shuts his mouth as he stares, shaking her head as she laughs at him.
“Hi,” Lucy laughs, crawling to the end of the bed slowly, beckoning him forward with her fingers. Tim kicks the door shut and walks towards her in a few short strides, knowing he must look determined. Lucy sits up, a bit more, grabbing him by the shirt and tugging him closer, humming softly as he settles his hands on her bare waist. “I know we should probably have some sort of discussion,” she breathes, and her face is too fucking close to his for him to process any of the words she’s saying right now, “but I’ve been dying for this for days, so I was thinking we could talk later.”
Tim nods – he’s pretty sure he’d caught the point, at least – and kisses her, teasing his tongue along her lower lip before he pulls back and presses his lips to her neck, his hands grazing along her waist slowly. “Only days, huh,” he mumbles against the hollow of her neck, flicking his tongue over her skin. “Weak.”
Lucy laughs, tipping her head back and slipping her hand beneath his shirt, her fingers grazing over his chest lightly. “Oh, that’s weak, huh? You going to tell me you’ve been wanting to do this for weeks, Tim? Months?”
Tim scrapes his teeth slowly against her collarbone, his hands moving down to her hips, his fingers pushing beneath the band of her thong teasingly, snapping it against her skin with a low chuckle. “Months,” he mumbles, “a stupid number of them.”
Lucy whines, her nails digging into his stomach for a second before she grabs onto the hem of his shirt. “You’re wearing too many clothes to say things like that,” she breathes, pulling herself away from him slightly so she can tug at his t-shirt. Tim laughs, lifting up his arms so she can pull the shirt off. He lets her pull it over his head, then takes a small step back as she tosses the shirt towards his closet, unbuckling his belt and raising his brow at her. “Tim,” she whines, licking her lips, her eyes following his fingers, “come back here.”
Tim shakes his head, laughing as he pulls his belt from the loops and popping the button of his fly. “I will,” his voice is low, even to his own ears, “but I want to see you like this, first.”
Lucy softens a little, her hair frizzing a little at the edges from where it’d pressed against him. Her eyes are still dark as she raises her brow at him. “You want to see me like what?”
He can hear the breathlessness of her question – knows it’s not just her asking to ask, she’s asking to hear his answer, to hear him talk about her...which is maybe the most Lucy thing he’s ever heard, that hearing him talk would get her worked up. He lets out a little laugh, unzipping his jeans slowly, his eyes glued to her, traveling over her body slowly, taking her in. “I want to see you looking like that, Lucy...wearing that, for me.” He lets his gaze move slowly up to hers, meeting her eye. “I want to see you looking back at me, wanting me as much as I want you.”
Her teeth sink into her lower lip as she tips her head to the side, pushing her hair off her shoulders and letting it fall behind her, arching her back a bit so that he can really see her. “I didn’t know how bad traffic was going to be,” she starts, and Tim lets his gaze settles on her breasts, watches as she purposefully presses them together for him, “so I got here way too early, found your spare key, and fuck, Tim...it’s taken every ounce of willpower I had not to get myself off on this bed, thinking of you.”
Tim groans, kicking his jeans off and making his way back to her, hooking his arm around her waist and pulling her against him. He brushes his lips over hers as he speaks, slowly. “We’ll talk about your breaking and entering later, too,” he murmurs, sipping at her lips gently, “don’t think I missed that part.”
“Technically,” she breathes against his mouth, “I just entered, which isn’t even a crime. Frowned upon, and,” Tim kisses her hard enough to stop her in her tracks, pulling her tighter into his chest, laughing when she whines into his mouth.
Tim lays her down, letting his lips trail over her skin as she settles back against his pillows, her legs spreading so he can settle between them. He drags his mouth down her neck, pressing light kisses to her skin as he moves from her neck to her collarbone, her collarbone to her chest, the dip between her breasts, his teeth tugging lightly on the little piece of fabric resting against her chest. He grins as he hears her let out a soft gasp, his hands skirting down the sides of her body as his mouth trails along her ribcage, down to her stomach, his tongue dipping lightly against her belly button. He flicks his eyes up to her before he kisses his way to her hip, a soft smile on his face when he finds her propped up on her elbows, watching him and breathing heavily, a sated grin on her lips. He feels her shift slightly as he turns his face back into her skin, letting out a low chuckle when he notices her slipping her fingers into his hair, tugging at it lightly. He hums, his eyes flicking up to her, his brow raised. “What’s happening up there?”
Lucy whines, the sound slow on her tongue as she tugs at his hair. “You’re killing me,” she murmurs, and Tim laughs, looking up at her and licking his lips as he rests his chin against her hip. “No, don’t,” she swallows audibly and Tim chuckles, tipping his face down and kissing her skin gently, “Tim, please.”
“Please what,” he murmurs against her skin, laughing as she whines again, pulling harder at his hair. Fuck, she’s perfect like this. He nuzzles his face against her hip bone and hums. “Tell me what, Lucy.”
Lucy groans, digging her nails into his scalp and pushing his head down. “Down, Tim. Keep moving.” She sounds demanding, but there’s an edge to her voice that he wants to bottle, doesn’t know if he could ever get sick of.
“Down, hmm?” He lets out a low laugh as he trails his lips down her thigh, pressing slow, wet kisses along her skin. “I’m not sure,” he’s so fucking close to her that he can feel the warmth radiating between her legs, can see how fucking wet she is through her panties, “what you could want me to be doing down here, baby.”
He sees her shiver when he calls her baby, sliding a hand up and brushing his knuckles along her waist gently, his mouth trailing to her inner thigh slowly. “I want you to,” her voice is a little hysterical, a lot breathless, “I want you to taste me, Tim.”
He doesn’t expect it, but he’s not sure why – Lucy’s direct with him, and he likes it that way. Tim groans, his nose nudging against her through her panties as he settles himself between her thighs, his fingers slipping beneath the band of her panties and tugging them down slowly, swallowing when he can finally see how wet she is. He swallows a groan, shaking his head as he leans down and kisses her inner thigh, his lips trailing slowly along her skin, moving closer to her core. “God,” he murmurs against her, feeling her thighs trembling against him, hooking one of her legs over his shoulders to give himself more space. He presses her other thigh back, opening her up for him and rumbles out a low sound, licking his lips as he flicks his gaze up to her, “you’re something else, you know that?”
Lucy bites on her lip, tugging on his hair with a strangled laugh that turns to a moan at the tail end, fucking music to Tim’s ears. “Yeah?”
Tim licks a slow line along her folds, groaning at the taste of her on his tongue, his hand curving around her upper thigh to keep her still as he teases at her slowly. “Yeah,” he breathes, his lips pressed to her clit.
As much as he’s known she’s something else for a hell of a lot longer than he cares to admit, this changes things entirely...the taste of her on his tongue, the way he knows he’s never in his life going to forget the way her thighs feel shaking against the side of his head, he knows it, now. He can never change that, and he doesn’t know why he’d ever want to.
He holds her steady with one hand and flattens his tongue against her, moving at the pace she deserves, working her roughly with his tongue, growling against her when he hears her panting above him. The sounds of her strangled voice crying out a steady stream of, “Yes, Tim, fuck, Tim, right fucking there, Tim, please,” is probably the most attractive thing he’s ever heard. That, in combination with the fact that she has no problem moving his head exactly where she wants it is enough to make him feel like he’s going to die if he doesn’t fuck her soon.
Not before she comes for him, though – he’d decided that before he’d even walked through the front door.
He slips two fingers into her and sucks mercilessly at her clit, a groan tight in his throat as he feels her nails digging into his scalp, her voice higher pitched when she cries out a, “just like that, baby,” that goes straight to his cock, which he’s not certain can get harder. He curls his fingers, working her faster, sucking harder until he can feel her shaking against him, hard, and he knows she’s close.
He pulls off her for a moment, circling his tongue around her as he feels her pressing her thighs against his head to keep him close, to pull him back in. “You’re going to come for me, aren’t you, Lucy,” he murmurs against her, flicking his gaze up to her face, raising a brow.
She looks down at him with huge eyes, her pupils blown, her cheeks flushed. “Yes,” she manages, her voice thick, “I’m,” she nods, unable to finish her sentence, instead pressing herself closer to him, trying to get him where she wants.
Tim lets out a low chuckle, licking his lips and moaning as he tastes her, just her, all over before he licks at her teasingly again, dipping another finger in before he moves back to her clit. He taps his tongue against her lightly, laughing as Lucy whines, overwhelmed, pulling his hair. “Patience,” he mumbles, before sucking hard at her clit, pumping his fingers into her at even more of a breakneck pace than he had been before. He feels her thighs shaking against his head, feels her hands grip tighter in his hair, knows she’s on the edge because she’s pulsating around his fingers, hard, but it’s not until he’s got her clit in the mix that he feels her letting go, coming hard, crying out.
He licks her clean slowly, letting her catch her breath as he savors every last taste of her on his tongue before he lifts his head, resting his chin against her thigh as he looks up at her, knowing his eyes are soft. “Fuck,” she breathes, and he can tell she’s blushing from something other than her orgasm when she looks down at him, “look at your face, oh my god.”
Tim swallows, his brow furrowing as he brings his hand up to his face, laughing when he realizes just how slick he is, coated with her. He hums, crawling up her body and lowering his mouth to hers, humming into it as he kisses her, long and slow, his tongue pressing into her mouth. The moan she lets out, he can tell, is at the taste of herself on his tongue and he moans back at her in return, smiling against her lips when she scratches at the back of his neck. “You taste so fucking good,” he murmurs against her mouth when he pulls back for air, his hand sliding around her back to unhook her bra, “holy shit.”
Lucy whines, sliding her bra off her arms before slipping her fingers into the back of his hair and scratching at his scalp, kissing him again before she presses her hands to his chest. Her nails drag along his skin until she reaches the waistband of his boxer briefs, her fingers moving lightly against the edge. “I want you,” she breathes, her voice ragged, “I need you, Tim. Please,” his eyes open, feeling her gaze on him, and is met with her wild, serious eyes. “If you don’t fuck me soon, I’m not going to make it.”
Tim smirks, brushing his lips against hers. “If I don’t fuck you soon, I’m not going to make it.” Lucy moans up at him, sliding her hand beneath the fabric of his briefs and wrapping her fingers around his length slowly, a breathy gasp leaving her lips as she holds him in her hand. He swallows, gritting his teeth at the warmth of her palm, at the light, teasing squeeze she gives him as she strokes him. “Fuck,” he bites out, his hips pressing forward into her hand a bit as she slicks her thumb over his tip, coating him with pre-cum. He pushes his briefs off, shaking his head as Lucy moves to roll them over, leaning down and kissing her lightly. “You on top later,” he mumbles against her mouth, “okay?”
Lucy moans into his mouth, her hand still tight around his cock as she strokes him, driving him fucking crazy. “Holding you to it,” she breathes, laughing as he swats her hand away. “What? Can’t take it?”
“I’m coming inside you,” he growls, and Lucy tips her head back, rolling her hips up, clearly in search of friction from his words alone, “I want you to feel what you do to me, Lucy. What you’ve been doing to me.” Lucy nods, breathing hard as Tim settles himself between her thighs, taking ahold of his length himself and dragging it against her teasingly, his lips pressed to her neck. He lifts his head and presses his face to hers, his lips brushing against hers, his eyes on her as he presses against her entrance slowly. “Ready?”
His voice is husky and low, thick with want as he feels Lucy sliding her legs around his waist, pulling him in. He feels like a nervous teenager, asking her if she’s ready for him when he knows the answer already, but there’s something about this – something about how the second he’s inside her, he knows everything is going to change. He wants to make sure she’s ready for it all, too. Her hands move up to his cheeks, her thumbs dragging over his skin as she nods, finding his eyes. She traces over his face and he watches her eyes move, then come back to his. “Of course I’m ready,” she breathes, her thumb brushing along his cheekbone slowly, “I’ve been ready for you, Tim.”
Tim lets out a low groan, nodding and kissing her gently before he pushes into her slowly, both of them crying out at the feeling of him filling her. She’s so fucking tight and warm and wet wrapped around him that he could come, just like this, unmoving inside her. He nudges his nose against hers and bites down on her lower lip, rumbling out a, “Fuck, Lucy,” as he rolls his hips slowly.
He starts it slow, rocking his hips into hers and kissing her, getting used to the feeling of her tight little cunt, her fingers gripping his arms, her mouth trembling against his as he fucks her. He knows, though, that neither of them is going to be able to hold out on slow for long – he’s wanted to fuck Lucy for an embarrassingly long time, and he knows this is the tip of the iceberg...he wants to feel her over and over again, as many times as he’s allowed. He rocks his hips a bit harder, pushing deeper into her and feeling her slide her feet higher up onto him, pulling him in further with a breathless, “yes,” as he moves.
She’s already tightening around him when he reaches down to roll her clit between his fingers, pumping into her faster, shifting his hips slightly to hit her at a different angle. “You’re so fucking,” he stammers out, his mouth firmly attached to her neck, “perfect, Lucy, holy fuck.” He rolls her clit slowly between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re going to come for me again, you hear me? Loud and hard and beautiful, so I can watch you fall apart.” Lucy whines in response and he pulls his lips from her neck, lifting his head and breathing hard as he fucks her. “You hear me?”
“I hear you,” Lucy’s voice is unlike he’s ever heard it before, rough and raw, ragged as she clings to him, rocking her hips up to meet his. “I hear you, baby, I hear you, I’m gonna,” he rolls his thumb over her clit and she lets out a whine, her hips tilting into his hand, “I’m gonna come, fuck.”
“Look at me,” he murmurs, and watches as Lucy’s eyes search for him. God, he loves the way she listens to him. He lets her latch onto his gaze before he raises his brow, smirking breathlessly at her as he murmurs, “come, baby.”
It’s only moments before she’s coming hard around him and he watches her, her body shaking, chest heaving, skin flushing as she moans and digs her nails into his arms, her legs pressing him in tighter as her orgasm rolls through her. He’s not far behind, hips sputtering, going a little rigid as he spills into her with a low growl, a “fuck, Lucy,” falling from his lips as he presses her down into the mattress.
They lay there, a breathless heap of limbs, sweaty and transfixed, Lucy’s laughs sweet in Tim’s ear as he kisses her jaw lazily.
“I’ve wanted you to do that for,” she whispers, drawing a slow circle against his bicep, “a long time.”
“As good as you imagined?” He realizes his question is smug and implies things after he asks it, but hums as he feels her neck getting warm.
“Better,” she murmurs, after deliberating for a moment. “So much better.” Tim pulls out of her after another few minutes, heading into the bathroom after kissing her lightly and cleaning himself up before bringing her a towel and taking care of her gently, slowly. He tosses it into the hamper and settles himself in bed with her, pulling her against his chest and grinning when she wraps her arms around him, her leg anchoring over his, her mouth close to his ear. “No more moving,” she whispers, “okay?”
Tim nods, letting his fingers graze along her bare skin. “Nowhere else I want to be,” he grins, and Lucy tips her chin up, finding his eyes. “What?”
“We’re doing this, huh?” She has a smile on her lips that he has no choice but to lean down and kiss before he answers her.
“We’re doing this,” he mumbles against her mouth, and he can practically feel her roll her eyes. He pulls back, meeting her gaze, raising his brow. “I’ll do anything you want, Lucy.”
Her gaze softens and she looks away for a second, then meets his eye. “What do you want?”
Tim lets out a low laugh. It’s a simple question with a simple answer – even if, at one time, it hadn’t seemed all that simple. “I want you,” he says, his voice even.
“You have me, then,” Lucy nods, after a long second, the smile blooming over her features. She leans up, kissing him lightly. “And I have you.”
He’s not sure if he needs to tell her she’s always had him, so he kisses her instead. She seems to understand, even without the words – it’s one of the things he appreciates the most about her.