Chapter 1: Don’t Tell Angela
Chapter Text
Angela wasn’t made detective for nothing.
She’s not entirely sure when she noticed Tim definitely having feelings for Lucy, but it’d definitely been sometime before Lucy’s kidnapping. She remembers Tim’s call, an “I need you,” and everything had been so clear. There hadn’t been any shock, or questions, or wonderings of how it came to be. It just made sense, like all the puzzle pieces she’d subconsciously picked up on sliding into place.
After that, it was just facts. Tim had some kind of feelings for Lucy. Lucy might have some kind of feelings for Tim. Lucy wasn’t just a normal rookie to Tim. Tim would absolutely never act on his feelings for Lucy while she was his rookie.
Then, Lucy wasn’t Tim’s rookie anymore. And Angela watched. And waited.
She’d been so caught up with her wedding that she hadn’t noticed anything—rightfully so, she knows; it was her wedding, and she deserved to have her day without wasting time wondering what her idiot of a friend might be doing with his old boot—until the next day.
Tim hadn’t been there for cleanup. Jackson was missing too, though he’d given a head’s up. It was just a fleeting mention from Patrice, stating that he’d never returned. Not after... Leaving with Lucy, apparently.
Patrice had mentioned it so casually, that Angela thought she must’ve misheard. But, no, her mother-in-law had confirmed it—the last time she’d seen Tim, was when he chased after Lucy, who’d stormed out of the reception. Then, nothing. She doesn’t know what happened after that.
Angela wishes she’d gotten someone to be on gossip duty. She curses herself for not thinking of it beforehand.
She tries not to dwell on it. Everyone had been extremely drunk. It’s possible that Tim just wanted to make sure Lucy got home safe, and then crashed. It’d be a very Tim Bradford thing to do.
So, of course, she scours for evidence the next time she sees him. It’s not something she wants to ask around about—even if Lucy is now a P2, it’s still a delicate situation.
It doesn’t take long for Angela to make a break in the case, and it’s in the form of a small, dark spot. She almost doesn’t see it, because it’s mostly covered by his shirt, but she sees just as the backpack forces the hem to slide down and...
Gotcha.
“I didn’t think you had it in you.”
Tim glances at her, not pausing his walk, brow furrowing. “Had what in me?”
“You left the wedding with Lucy,” she says slyly, keeping in step with him, “and now you have a hickey right at the collar of your shirt.”
There’s a small falter in his step as he takes in her words, before continuing to walk. “Those are...unrelated.”
Angela hums. “So, you just wanted to make sure she got home alright?”
“Exactly.” He gives a firm nod, but it’s not very convincing.
“Who’s home, Timothy?”
He blinks. “Uh. Hers. And then mine.”
She hums again.
He narrows his eyes. “What are you implying?”
Angela smirks. “What do you think?”
“I just took her home,” he insists.
He doesn’t give her any more than that, so she lets out an exasperated sigh. “Come on, it’s not like none of us have ever done it,” she prods teasingly.
“Wait.” Tim stops, alarm in his eyes. “Have you slept with a boot before?”
“I haven’t slept with any of my rookies,” she reveals carefully. “But I have slept with a rookie— after they washed out.”
“Who?” he asks incredulously.
“Remember Meghan Brown? Super hot, tall—”
“You slept with my rookie?” he cries out. “Seriously?”
“Oh, stop clutching your pearls,” Angela waves off. “She washed out so early that I never rode with her. We ran into each other like two months later and talked about how big of an asshole you were and then one thing led to another.”
“I—Lopez!”
She smirks. “Thanks for being my unknowing wingman. I really appreciated it.”
“I can’t believe you.”
“At least I never slept with my boot,” she says offhandedly. “That seems to be your new accomplishment. You and your rookie, huh?”
“Ex-rookie,” Tim quickly corrects.
Angela smirks at him. Got him.
His face falls. “I’m not sleeping with her!” he exclaims desperately, his voice pitching up an octave.
“Do you call her ‘Boot’ in bed?”
“I’m reporting you to IA,” he mutters.
“Oh, feel free,” Angela cackles. “I may not have slept with my rookie, but I’m sure he’ll still put in a good word to his dad.”
“I’m not sleeping with her,” Tim insists one last time.
Timothy, like a lying liar who lies, most definitely is sleeping with his ex-rookie.
Angela’s just unfortunate enough to get confirmation by accidentally walking in on it.
She’s shocked, but not because they’re together. After her conversation with Tim, she had paid close attention. She noticed when they’d leave together, or how often they seemed to mention each other, or how they’d eye one another across the bullpen. It’d been extremely obvious to anyone who knew what to look for, no matter how many times he denied that anything was happening. So, no, Angela isn’t shocked to know that she’d been right all along. No, it’s seeing Tim’s ass and—
Oh, god, she definitely didn’t need to see that.
“What the hell are you doing here, Lopez?!” Tim yells out, as the two of them desperately try to cover themselves up. But it’s too late. She’s already seen too much. She hates her life.
“What am I doing here?” she screeches. “What happened to not fucking your rookie!”
“Ex-rookie,” Lucy corrects quickly, automatically, before shrinking under Angela’s hard gaze.
“Follow me,” she orders her, eyes fiery and firm. Lucy hesitates, but she refuses to take no for an answer. She needs to get Lucy’s side of the story, without Tim involved. “Now.”
Reluctantly, Lucy wraps the sheet around her body, and Angela leads her over to the kitchen. This isn’t what she wanted to deal with today. Not when she has more important things going on. But, as it happens, the world just had to throw her an obstacle, and she can’t exactly pretend like it didn’t happen.
She leans against the counter, observing Lucy carefully. She seems nervous, wrapping the sheet tighter as she tucks in the corner to secure it, but it doesn’t seem like she’s embarrassed about being caught beyond the circumstances.
“Oh, come on, Chen, we share a locker room. I’ve seen it all—it’s Bradford’s ass that’s a surprise,” Angela points out. Lucy only tightens the bedsheet around herself, so she puts all her jokes aside. “Alright. When did this start?”
“Uh.” Lucy grimaces before confessing, “The night of your wedding. Sporadically.”
Angela laughs. “Timothy is such a liar.”
“Sorry?”
She only sighs. “I hate to ask, but is he in any way making you feel like you have to—”
“No!” Lucy immediately exclaims. “Absolutely not! Tim would never—”
“Okay. Good,” Angela responds with a pleased nod. “Tim’s my best friend and all, and I don’t see him ever intentionally doing that. But he’s a man. And I think sometimes men don’t realize the position they put us in, even if they don’t mean it.”
She remembers when she’d been a rookie. A P3 had propositioned her—not anyone she worked with regularly, but a superior officer nonetheless. She had shut him down hard and fast and mercilessly, then promptly spent the entire night preparing a speech defending her job—only to find out that the officer had no grudge, only a broken heart.
He had no retaliation in mind whatsoever, but Angela still had panicked that whole night. Lost sleep over it. Even after the realization, she’d waited around for him to change his mind and suddenly try to get her fired.
She thought her rejection would cost her her career.
She never wants anyone else to feel that way.
“It’s not like that,” Lucy assures. “I did most of the initiating. We’re just having fun and it’ll end the minute he gets the new position.”
“You seem awfully confident about that,” Angela notes. Tim tends to do the right thing, especially when it comes to the job, but she’s seen how deep his feelings can run. She doesn’t know if he’d give up someone he cares for so much in the blink of an eye.
Lucy frowns. “Well, Grey’s backing him, and he’d be amazing in the position—I don’t see how he wouldn’t get it.”
“Not that,” Angela starts, and then she starts feeling the tightening in her stomach again. Ah, right. That’s why she’d come here in the first place. She holds a finger up. “Actually, hold that thought.” Her forehead wrinkles in pain, and she bends over slightly, hand over her swollen belly.
Lucy looks at her with concern. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Angela breathes out, eyes shutting closed as the cramping gets more intense in her abdomen. “Just peachy. Can you get Tim?”
“TIM?” the woman yells out, suddenly concerned.
The next thing Angela knows, Tim is by her side, hand calmly on her elbow, grounding her slightly. “What’s going on?” he asks.
“Can you grab the bag by the door?” Angela asks.
“What’s the bag for?” he asks.
“It’s just my birthing kit,” she answers simply. Isn’t it obvious?
“Why did you bring a birthing kit to my house?” he asks dumbly.
Angela blows out a few deep breaths, before standing back straight. “Because I’m about to have a baby.”
“WHAT?!” both of them exclaim loudly.
“I thought you weren’t due for another week!” Lucy continues.
“Looks like the baby’s impatient. But not too impatient—contractions are still about five minutes apart.”
Tim blinks at her, incredulous, almost panicked. “What are you doing here, then?!”
Lucy gently takes her by the shoulders, slowly leading her over to the door.
“Wesley’s in court and you weren’t answering your phone,” Angela explains easily, relishing in the brief softening in the pain. “I tried driving myself and then worried that I could get another contraction and you were closer than the hospital. So, come on, God-Daddy. You’re filling in until he’s done.”
Tim stares at her, slack-jawed, and Lucy has to nudge his shoulder to shake him back into reality.
“Right, okay,” he says quickly as he grabs his keys from the entrance and runs outside. Lucy continues guiding her gently to the car, opening the door for her, seating her in the back, next to the duffle bag that Tim’s already placed. Angela plops into the car, closing her eyes and blowing out a breath.
“This whole detour will never be a part of my birth story,” Angela tells the two of them pointedly, just as the contraction hits and she doubles over in pain.
“Definitely not,” Lucy agrees. She gives her an encouraging smile. “Good luck with the baby!”
Angela means to say, “Thank you,” but instead, she screams.
Tim and Lucy murmured quietly to each other, but, honestly, Angela had bigger things to worry about, doubling up in pain. But, she does notice as Tim leans forward and presses his lips to Lucy’s sweetly. It only lasts a moment, but it definitely happened. She knows she’s not crazy, even if a little feral currently.
They’re halfway to the hospital when Angela finally doesn’t feel like there’s a bowling ball trying to force its way out of her body, and she’s just dying to talk about everything she just witnessed.
“So, you’re not sleeping with Lucy, huh?” she teases.
Tim glares at her in the mirror. “Aren’t you supposed to be having contractions?” he asks pointedly.
“They’re not happening right this second,” she waves off. “And besides, I’d rather distract myself by talking about your girlfriend.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Hm. And do you always kiss your not-girlfriends goodbye?”
Tim turns impossibly pale in an instant.
Angela sits up straighter, immediately intrigued. “Wait. You seriously haven’t had the talk?”
“We had... a talk,” he responds cryptically.
“Really?” she sits up a little straighter. “Come on. I’m in labor. Give me something. Distract me.”
He’s quiet for a moment, but eventually, he seems to give in to her demands. “We agreed it couldn’t happen.”
“When?”
“At the wedding,” he answers.
Angela purses her lips. “And it happened anyway.”
“It was only supposed to be one night,” Tim says hollowly. “We... She didn’t want anything more. It wouldn’t be fair.”
“For who?” she asks. “For her, or for you?”
“Either of us.”
The way he says it is so clipped, that she knows he’s lying. Lucy, then.
“She mentioned that it’ll end when you get the Sergeant position,” she points out carefully. “So... You’ve talked about that.”
He swallows, hesitating. “She’s the one who encouraged me to go for it.”
Angela knows that some of this conversation is meant to be a distraction, but mostly, the fact that Tim is willing to tell her so much shows her that he really needs to get this out. Otherwise, he would’ve changed the subject. He would’ve told her to mind her own business.
That’s when she realizes: Tim doesn’t just have feelings for Lucy. He might actually be in love with her.
“Is this why you told Grey no at first?” Angela asks softly. “You said you wanted another station. Because you had a conflict of interest.”
“I thought...” He pauses. “It doesn’t matter. It’s a good job.”
“It is,” she agrees.
It’s his decision, she decides. If he’s taking the job—and he’s right, it’s a good job, and not worth turning down over the possibility of a relationship—then he definitely can’t be with Lucy. And Angela isn’t going to rub salt in the wound by pointing out his obvious feelings and telling him to pursue something that’s bound to end in disaster. Right now, based on his words, it’s only sex. It’s not a relationship. It’s not something worth fighting for.
She just hopes he doesn’t end up regretting it.
Or doing something stupid, like sleeping with his subordinate.
Chapter 2: Don’t Tell Jackson
Summary:
“Oh, yeah, Officer Zaddy,” Tamara states easily, like she isn’t revealing some major thing that rewrites Jackson’s entire existence. “I saw him sneaking out of here a few weeks ago.”
Well.
That settles that.
Chapter Text
Angela’s wedding is beautiful.
Jackson expects nothing less, though, even if it was cobbled together in a few short days after the original wedding plan had fallen through. Their group had moved heaven and earth to make the wedding turn out spectacular, and Jackson would be damned if he isn’t a little proud.
He knows Tim is a big part of that. The main part, even. Even if he complained the whole time, he’d done everything in his power to organize everything, rally everyone, and make sure Angela had the best wedding possible. Jackson has to give kudos to the guy—for someone constantly grumpy and mean, when he cares about someone, he will do anything for them.
He’s seen it before, of course. With Lucy. When she’d been taken. From what he understands, it isn’t the first time Tim had gotten close to the edge of right or wrong to protect someone he loves.
Not that Tim loves Lucy. That’d be ridiculous, right?
Though, Jackson can’t lie and say that sometimes he doesn’t wonder about it. With the way Tim looks at her. Talks to her. Seems to put her over himself.
Tim cares about Lucy, at the very least, Jackson decides. Probably not romantically, because that’d be insane, but...he cares. They’re friends. She’d gotten under his skin more than any other rookie has in the past, and that isn’t quantifiable.
But, nonetheless, Jackson pays attention.
At the very least, it’s good, fun gossip. Not anything he’d spread, but it’s something that he and Angela giggle about sometimes. How Tim will cave and come to a group outing just because Lucy asks him to. How he’ll bring her coffee in the mornings sometimes. How they’ll go on hikes with their dog, because it’s totally normal for two coworkers to coparent a dog.
Now, apparently, they’re dancing. Together. At a wedding.
Jackson isn’t sure how that happened, but before he knows it, they’re holding hands as they walk onto the dance area, and they start moving to the flow of the music. It’s not a slow dance, but it’s not a super fast party dance either—it’s something nicely in the middle, with people swinging dramatically and having fun.
On the floor, Tim suddenly looks almost...relaxed? Jackson blinks, not used to seeing him like this. He’s not grumbling or making sarcastic comments or barking orders; instead, he’s looking down at Lucy like she’s the only one in the room, and there’s something soft there. Something real.
Lucy, on her end, doesn't seem to notice the way Tim’s attention zeroes in on her. She’s laughing, a little out of breath, probably from trying to match his steps—Bradford’s got moves. That’s a surprise to Jackson, but she doesn’t seem to care. Her smile is wide, genuine, and there’s something in the way she tugs at his hand, like they’re the only two people around.
“Makes you think, right?” Angela asks, coming up beside him.
Jackson smiles into his drink. “A little, yeah.”
“You’d never know she was his rookie.”
He shrugs, a little unsure. “I guess so,” he decides. “But I’ve only seen him with Lucy. He’s always been a bit soft with her. Her not being a rookie anymore hasn’t changed that much.”
She hums thoughtfully. “Let’s just say, his rookies never stuck around, let alone danced with him at a wedding. Bishop was his rookie for only a week and she almost tore up the invitation. I had to practically drag her to his wedding.”
“Well, Tim had a wife to dance with at that wedding,” he points out. “Now, he’s got a Lucy.”
Angela raises her eyebrows with a coy smile. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“It came out wrong,” Jackson says quickly.
At some point, though, Tim and Lucy stop dancing together, and he’s not sure when they did. He’d gone to get a drink, and by the time he came back, they had disappeared from the dance floor. He doesn’t see either of them for a while after that, until he runs into Tim at the bar, staring at something a little too intensely. When Jackson follows his eyeline, he sees Lucy.
Some douchey venture capitalist friend of Wesley’s—Jackson met the guy briefly, Jason, or something, and he was not impressed—is now very clearly hitting on her. It’s not her first suitor of the night, but it seems to be the only one she’s actually somewhat interested in. She laughs at what he says, touching his arm gently.
When Jackson looks back over, Tim’s eyes are narrowed, that familiar flash of annoyance creeping across his face. He can almost see the gears turning in Tim’s head, the slow build of frustration bubbling up. He’s always been protective, that much Jackson knows.
“Lucy’s popular tonight,” Jackson comments, smirking slightly into his drink.
Tim hums in confirmation—at least, it seems to be meant to be a hum of assent, but ends up being more of a low growl. His gaze locks onto Jason’s hand, now resting on Lucy’s arm. It’s too familiar, too comfortable, and Jackson can practically hear Tim’s teeth grinding. He knows him well enough to not push too hard, but damn, the guy’s acting like a jealous boyfriend, and that’s just too funny—if not also weirdly endearing.
Jackson watches curiously as Tim’s eyes flick back to Lucy. She’s laughing again, but something’s forced in her smile that hadn’t been there before. Maybe it’s because Jason is getting a little too touchy for her taste, or maybe it’s because she’s caught the edge in Tim’s gaze. Jackson can’t be sure, but something had just shifted.
“The cake’s all wrong,” a voice suddenly says. Jackson almost jumps before realizing it’s Tamara. Where the hell did she come from? “They used gold instead of champagne.”
“Is it tres leches?” Tim asks.
“Yes.”
Tim makes a face. “Then who cares?”
“The adornments are all wrong,” Tamara insists. “It’s supposed to be champagne—”
Tamara drags Tim away as he shoots Jackson an annoyed look begging for help, but Jackson doesn’t want to get in the middle of whatever that is. He’s here as Angela’s moral support, and he’ll be the first handing her a handkerchief if she ends up crying over a gold cake that was supposed to be champagne, but he is not volunteering to figure out whatever to do before that. That’s all the Man of Honor, thank you very much.
Later, after the totally fine cake that Angela loves is served, Lucy ends up swarming him, stumbling in her heels as she clings to him.
“I’ve been texting you,” she slurs. “Why didn’t you reply?”
Jackson quickly checks his texts, trying not to visibly laugh at them.
Lucy Chen [10:34 PM]
Tims an asshole. Whrre are you?Lucy Chen [10:36 PM]
Nvm I see you
“Girl, that was thirty seconds ago,” he says instead of all the quips and jokes spinning around in his brain. “So, what’d Tim do?”
“He’s just so—!” She drunkenly huffs and stomps her foot in frustration.
“So?”
“Tim!” she finishes off petulantly.
“Tim’s Tim,” he agrees diplomatically. It’s been a long time since he’s seen Lucy this drunk—maybe not since well before the Caleb incident. Usually, she gets a little extra flirty and a whole lot more moody. It seems to be the latter taking over.
“I hate him,” she decides firmly. “I just don’t get why he’d say—Oh! Shrimp!”
Before he knows it, Lucy’s running off after some waiter with a bunch of shrimp cocktail mini dishes, and that’s the last Jackson sees of her at the wedding.
It’s almost an hour later he gets some texts from her.
Lucy Chen [11:22 PM]
I’m gonna do something stypidLucy Chen [11:37 PM]
Dont wait uo fir me. Im getting laid tonoghttttt
Ah. The flirty side of her drunkenness has taken over. Good for her.
Still, he worries. She’s not really the type to go home with someone, even while drunk. Except, maybe... No, Nolan’s got a date, and Jackson’s looking at him right now, and...
Tim’s simply not an option. Right?
Regardless, Jackson fires off a quick text and then dials. Just in case.
“Hiiiii,” Lucy answers, giggling.
“You good?” he asks, already relieved to hear her actual voice. Not that he thinks another Caleb incident would happen, but he still hasn’t forgiven himself for not checking in with her, for not knowing she’d been missing earlier.
“Soooo good,” she responds, still giggling. Then, she seems to talk to someone else. “Stop that!”
“Where are you?” he asks.
“Taxi,” she answers. “I’m alllllll gooood.”
“I’m gonna be on clean-up duty with Tim and Tamara until really late,” he reminds her. “Are you gonna be good getting home from...wherever you’re going? You’ll be able to get to the apartment when it’s over?”
“If he does it right, I won’t even remember where I liiiive when it’s over,” she says airily, then there’s a little shuffle, then a distant whimper and then a moan, blocking out a man’s voice. “Oh. Fuck, baby. Yeah.”
Now, Jackson’s pretty drunk too, but not drunk enough for this. “Okay,” he concludes. “You’re good. I’ll talk to you in the morning. I’m sending a search party over if I don’t hear from you by noon.”
Instead of a response, there’s a moan. Jackson hangs up immediately.
“Have you seen Tim?” Tamara asks, suddenly appearing at his side like a little wedding fairy. “The bartenders are starting to wrap out an hour too early, and they’re refusing to talk to me because I’m too young or whatever.”
Something wicked forms in Jackson’s mind as he confirms he hasn’t seen Tim. Maybe the possibility of them hooking up isn’t as unlikely as he thought. He shouldn’t be surprised at all, really, with the way they were dancing earlier. There’s no real evidence, but Tim being missing from the wedding he’s the best man of is damning evidence.
Later, four drinks later, he sees Tamara again, a lot more relaxed. “So, you figured out the bartender issue,” he notes, lifting up his drink. “You found Tim?”
He’s needling, and he knows it, but he’s just a little pleased.
Tamara only nods, though. “Yeah. It’s all handled. Thanks!”
So, Lucy went home with some stranger, and Jackson feels almost disappointed.
Jackson starts seeing signs of something more going on between Tim and Lucy a couple months later.
He’s noticed they’re close, of course. Closer than before, even. She seems to go on hikes with him more frequently. She’s out of the apartment a lot for unrelated reasons. For a bit, Jackson thinks it’s unrelated—she’s getting closer with Tim, and, separately, she’s seeing someone lowkey.
He asks Tamara about it once, curious if she knows anything about a potential suitor.
“Oh, yeah, Officer Zaddy,” Tamara states easily, like she isn’t revealing some major thing that rewrites Jackson’s entire existence. “I saw him sneaking out of here a few weeks ago.”
Well.
That settles that.
It’s settled even more when he brings it up to Angela later, when he’s visiting her and his namesake—(Angela insists that the name is a coincidence, and Jack is just a good baby name, but he doesn’t believe her). He’s coy about it—he knows Angela is on their side, too, and won’t rat anything out, but he doesn’t necessarily want to spell it out. He vaguely talks about the potential of Tim and Lucy hooking up, only to be met with:
“Oh, yeah,” Angela confirms simply, “I saw them going at it hardcore. I will never have enough brain bleach to get Bradford’s ass out of my brain. Eugh. But it seems like there’s a deadline to it. He’s about to be sergeant.”
Part of him is horrified to hear that his roommate and his boss are doing unspeakable things, and another part of him is cheering them on.
After Tim officially begins his sergeant position, Jackson needles Lucy at lunch.
“So, what’s the plan now that Tim’s our boss?” he asks, once the coast is clear.
Lucy shrugs. “I mean, probably more of the same. Grey will keep rotating the pairings between us and Nolan. After several months, I imagine they’ll trust whoever’s left over to solo ride by now?”
“Oh, not that,” he waves off. “I meant about your relationship with Tim.”
It’s clear that she starts understanding the implications, her eyes suddenly avoiding his. “Uh, I mean it’s not like I won’t see him every day,” she says quickly, stuffing a fry into her mouth. “I’m sure we’ll still be friends.”
Jackson hums slightly. He needs to make this more obvious. “Will this friend still be sneaking in and out of our place in the middle of the night?”
Her jaw flies open, mouth agape in shock. “You knew?”
He barks out a small laugh. “You’re living with a cop and a nosy teenager. Of course we figured it out.”
“Tamara knows?” Lucy seems horrified by the concept, which makes Jackson feel a bit bad. Then, her eyes narrow, noticing. “Angela told you, didn’t she?”
“She...may have mentioned it,” he answers sheepishly. “But only because I already suspected it. She just...confirmed.”
Lucy presses her fingers to the bridge of her nose, sighing deeply. She’s clearly coming to terms with the fact that people know.
He gives her a little conspiratorial smirk. “So, does he bark orders at you in bed, too?”
“Shut up, shut up!” she hisses out, slapping him on the arm.
“Shut up about what?” Nolan asks, as he plops his tray down and sits at the table.
“Nothing,” Lucy answers firmly, glaring at Jackson, daring him to say anything else. He smirks slightly—he definitely will be asking again later.
(He never really does. She ends up making it clear it’s over, and Jackson doesn’t really believe it, but it’s clear that it’s not a subject she wants to talk about.)
It takes a while, but eventually, he starts to believe Lucy and Tim really may have ended things.
Honestly, it takes quite a few conversations where Lucy mentions it’s over for Jackson to finally believe it. He just assumed it’s something she would say just to divert attention, because Tim’s her boss, and they’re all coworkers, and, well, this isn’t exactly the best look. But he’d never rat her out—she’s his best friend. Even his penchant for the rules couldn’t break that bond.
But, yeah, Tim and Lucy don’t seem to be sleeping together. Tim’s also a stickler for rules and order, so maybe it shouldn’t be such a surprise. But, other times, Jackson catches how he looks at Lucy, and it’s clear that something still lingers. It’d only taken one day as the Sergeant’s aide to see that. One brief mention of Lucy, and there’d be a faint, out-of-character smile in the shop—it’d been quickly masked, but Jackson had seen it.
There’s something.
On December 8th, Jackson has to work a little more overtime than he’d like. He’s been less in sync with Lucy and Nolan lately, taking the PM Watch schedule more often than not, trying to match up with Isaac as much as he can. It works well—he and Isaac spend all their free time together, and the two-bedroom apartment is never too crowded between him, Lucy, and Tamara.
Today, though, he’d been hoping to snag a day shift, but he’d been stuck with the later one. He hadn’t fretted, at the time, deciding as long as he’d be off and get home before midnight, it’d be fine, because he has the 9th off. Hopefully, she’d go to bed far before midnight anyway, and he’d wake her up with breakfast in bed, where he would show her the cutest animal videos, and then they can binge some TV show for most of the day, and get sushi for dinner. He got Tamara to agree to stay away for most of it, but ready to come back at a moment’s notice—he doesn’t want Lucy to feel smothered, he knows how she hates feeling vulnerable around people about this day, but he wants the option available.
All in all, Jackson had a plan, and overtime is ruining it. Now, he’ll be back after midnight.
Lucy doesn’t seem to mind, based on her texts. She actually seems rather pleased that he’s not going to be back for a bit. He goes back to remembering, he knows how she hates feeling vulnerable around people about this day. Him included. It’s why he didn’t push to do more, and she’s not aware of his total epic and flawless plan to keep her distracted during the day.
Lucy stops replying to his texts when he’s finally off shift and heading home. She’s probably asleep, he knows. It’s way late, and if she’s still up almost two hours after midnight... Well, then things might be more dire than he thought.
The apartment is quiet when Jackson enters, though. She’s likely sleeping. But, just to be sure, he cracks the door open, and peers into her room.
The last thing he expects to see—which, in hindsight, is kind of stupid; he really should’ve expected it—is Tim sitting in Lucy’s bed, cradling her into his chest, eyes staring into Jackson’s soul.
“I—”
Tim presses a finger to his lips, looking stern. “Morning,” he says quietly, careful not to wake Lucy, but Jackson understands that his tone leaves no room for disagreement. They’ll talk later.
He takes the hint, closing the door and leaving them to it.
Jackson’s up bright and early, trying not to stare at Lucy’s door obsessively. He really thought that the two of them were over. Were they never over? Did they restart things? Was it a single moment of weakness during a tough time?
Or maybe nothing happened. They were fully clothed, after all.
But, still.
It’s relatively late in the morning when the door finally cracks open. Tim steps out, dark circles under his eyes, clearly not having slept most of the night. He stretches his neck, uncomfortable, before straightening his posture to look at the man staring from the couch.
“I wanted to check on her when I got home,” Jackson explains hurriedly as he stands. He isn’t exactly sure why—he’s the one who lives here. “I knew today was going to be rough and I wanted to make sure she was asleep.”
Tim nods slowly, jaw clenched, before settling to sit at the island. “She called me last night,” he tells him.
“And you came.”
“She needed someone,” he says, like it’s the simplest thing to say. Like it wasn’t even a question of whether or not he’d be the someone to help.
Huh.
Maybe Tim Bradford is in love with Lucy.
It’s not that a friend wouldn’t do something like that. Jackson gladly would’ve taken Tim’s place last night—as would’ve Nolan, and half a dozen other people who love Lucy as much as they do. He doesn’t even doubt that Tim himself would do it as a friend—though, he wouldn’t have thought so when he first met Officer Bradford, or didn’t even interact with him outside of shift.
But there’s just something different about how Tim moves around Lucy. He’s seen Tim go above and beyond for Angela. He’s seeing now Tim go above and beyond for Lucy. It’s different.
“What were your plans for today?” Tim asks, almost as if he’s in TO mode.
Jackson blinks. “Uh, I was going to start with breakfast in bed—”
“She likes pancakes,” he decides, already...fishing through their cabinets for...something?
Is Tim Bradford about to make pancakes in their kitchen? What the hell?
“Bottom left,” Jackson quickly guides once he realizes what’s being searched for, and the man opens up the cabinet to pull out a pan. He points over elsewhere. “Flour and sugar’s over there. I think we have maple syrup—I’ll look. How’d you know she likes pancakes?”
If Tim is surprised by the sudden question in the midst of instructions, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he just shoots over an annoyed look. “I sat in a shop with her for thirteen months. You know how she talks.”
About pancakes?
Jackson’s pretty sure that Tim figured it out a different time; he’s thinking when they’d been hooking up before. Hooking up for months, apparently. Seems like the perfect time for talk about pancakes. But he doesn’t push.
“She’s okay, though, right?” Jackson decides to ask instead. “After last night?”
“She’s...” Tim hesitates. “She’ll get through it. She always does.”
When Tim’s nearly done with the pancakes and Jackson’s getting coffee ready, Lucy exits her bedroom in a flurry, her eyes wide and slightly panicked.
“This...isn’t what it looks like,” Lucy stammers nervously. “I’m—He’s—We’re—”
It’s almost funny, and if it were any other day, Jackson would love to watch her squirm a little more. Instead, he puts her out of her misery. “It’s alright, Tim told me everything,” he waves off casually with a comforting smile.
She looks dubiously between them, mouth open. “He...did?”
Tim gives a short nod. “I explained that you called me over given the...circumstances. You fell asleep on me.”
“Oh,” she utters. “Sorry.”
He gives her a little smile and nod.
“Not gonna lie, I probably wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t walked into your room when I got home to see you both fully clothed,” Jackson says, smirking a little, thinking about everything that’d passed through his mind once he saw Tim in her bed. Then, he frowns, remembering exactly why Tim had been there. “I wish you would’ve said something to me. I’m sorry I didn’t volunteer earlier for staying with you overnight, but I swear, I was gonna keep you distracted all day—”
“It’s okay,” she assures. “I thought I was going to be fine, and then I wasn’t.”
It makes him feel a little less guilty. He gives her a nod as he steps forward to hand her a steaming hot cup of coffee. She takes it gratefully.
“Breakfast is ready,” Tim announces as he throws something into the trash. He turns off the burner. “I think I made too much for you guys, but most of this should reheat fine.”
“Uh, you better not be dining and dashing,” Jackson says, looking at the two plates Tim took out dubiously. He just made all this food just to...leave? He can’t do that. Not when Lucy seems so at ease around him. She hasn’t even pressed against her tattoo once—a nervous habit he’s noticed.
Tim huffs at him. “That’s not what dining and dashing is,” he grumbles. “I made food. I didn’t eat it without paying.”
“Well, either way, you can’t leave us to eat all this,” he insists, gesturing at all the food.
Tim’s jaw sets slightly, almost looking uncomfortable. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome,” he says.
And Jackson gets it, he does. They’ve never been on the best of terms. Nothing negative, of course, but they don’t really know each other. He’s grateful for the man for not bouncing him immediately, neutral about him doing the bare minimum and supporting him against Stanton, though he does appreciate that he didn’t do nothing like most cops would, and they both seem to deeply care for Angela and Lucy and policing. Not particularly in that order.
So, yeah, asking Tim to stay for brunch is not really the level they’re at. But before he can come up with a way to pose it—
“Stay,” Lucy interjects, before her mind catches up to her words. Then, once she realizes what she’s said, with his wide eyes staring at her, she repeats, “You should stay.”
And that’s all it takes.
Later, once breakfast is consumed and the kitchen is clean and Tim is finally gone, Lucy turns to Jackson, a nervous expression on her face. “So, uh...”
“Seriously, I get it,” he says, holding up a hand to gesture for her to stop. He understands. Tim made it all perfectly clear—he’s not going to make it a big deal. He knows Lucy doesn’t need that right now. “It’s a really tough day for you. I’m just glad he was here for you.”
“Thank you,” she whispers. “When you came into my room last night...”
“I wanted to make sure you were okay, so I went in and...well, you were sleeping on top of Tim, like all sprawled out,” he explains to her. “And he was wide awake, just kind of holding you, and then he saw me. He told me we’d talk in the morning—he didn’t wanna wake you.”
“And?” she prompts, curious.
He shrugs. “I woke up bright and early, because of course I wanted to hear more. He got up eventually and wanted to make you breakfast. He said you were taking the day pretty hard.”
“Yeah, a little,” Lucy responds, seeming a little more vulnerable. “I didn’t expect it to hit this hard, you know? I thought... It’s over. I’ve done the therapy. I still have some trauma, yeah, but I didn’t think it’d be like that.”
“You know it’s never when we expect it,” he reminds her reassuringly.
She nods slightly. “I think Tim expected it. He.. He knew exactly what to say last night. I think he’s been thinking about it.”
He gives her a little bit of an ironic smile. Of course he has. There’s no doubt in Jackson’s mind at this point that Tim Bradford has some sort of Lucy sensor. He’s probably got little calendar reminders for important dates like her birthday. Or maybe he just simply never forgets anything that’s important to her. “I think he’s always thinking about you.”
She blinks at him. “What? What do you mean?”
He considers telling her everything he suspects—that Tim’s pretty clearly in love with her, and that she seems to share similar feelings. But, truthfully, he’s not sure that it’ll do anything to help. At the end of the day, he’s their boss, and whatever they had before ended because of that. They can’t be together, in any capacity.
“You should see how he looks at you sometimes,” he ends up settling on, shrugging casually. “That man is down bad.”
Maybe ignoring what’s right in front of them is what’s least painful. For both of them.
“We’re friends. We may have a history, but it’s all in the past,” Lucy tells him.
The saddest part is, Jackson thinks a part of her might actually believe that.
Chapter 3: Don’t Tell Genny
Summary:
“She’s good for you,” Genny says eventually, not looking at him.
Tim’s quiet again. Then, “I know.”
“You love her, don’t you?”
Chapter Text
It takes only a few hours with Lucy for Genny to know she absolutely adores her. She’s bright, she’s funny, she’s heart and warmth and everything the Bradfords aren’t that used to. Most of all, she seems to challenge Tim in a way Genny’s never seen before, and it’s hard not to love her for it.
There’s something in the way Tim regards her, too, that makes Genny think that he’s registered all the same things. There’s a softness there—a trust.
So much so, that he actually seems to listen to her.
Genny’s not dumb. Tim had been so stubbornly against dealing with anything in relation to their dad, even to help her, and then he had one conversation with Lucy, and suddenly, he seemed much more open to the idea, no matter how reluctant.
She’s extremely grateful.
So, when she and Tim are leaving and they spot Lucy, Genny doesn’t hesitate to extend an offer.
“Tim and I are going to get dinner,” she tells her, smiling brightly. “You should join us.”
Lucy looks past her, as if she’s looking for permission, but whatever she finds has her turning back with a regretful smile. “Sorry, I’m beat. Plus, I’m sure you two have a lot more to catch up on without a coworker interjecting.”
Tim barks out a small, confused laugh. “Lucy, you’re not just a coworker. You can have dinner with us. You’re a friend.”
Lucy still shakes her head. “Maybe some other time,” she says kindly.
“Well, I’ll text you,” Genny says with an easy smile, not wanting to push. She’d probably say no to going out to dinner with her boss and his sister too. Still, she’d like to get to know her more—she feels like they’d get along. “I’ll be in town every weekend for the next few weeks, dealing with the house. We should hang out then.”
Lucy smiles brightly at the offer. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
“It was really nice meeting you, Lucy,” she says.
“You, too.”
With that, Genny turns to leave, but Tim doesn’t move. “I’ll join you in a minute,” he says instead.
At first, she assumes it’s some kind of work thing. He’s always been all business; the few times she’s seen him in action, he seems to be an entirely different person than the brother she’s used to. She watches from his truck, waiting for him, ready for dinner.
But, oddly, with Lucy, he doesn’t seem to put his guard up. It seems to stay lowered, quiet. He rubs the back of his neck, the same way he used to when she figured out he had a big fat crush on Stacey Roberts in high school.
In fact, he even smiles. Barely. But Genny sees it.
And that’s when she knows. Not suspects— knows.
He and Lucy are together. Or they were. Or they want to be. Something in that spectrum.
Genny doesn’t call them out. Not yet. She files it away, choosing instead to let them keep talking, to keep hanging themselves with the rope they keep offering. Tim’s a master of evasion; he’s done it since they were kids. But Lucy’s expressive, open, and clearly has no idea Genny’s already figured them out.
God, he’s her boss.
“You’re seeing someone?” Lucy had asked in that vulnerable voice that Genny recognizes all too well.
Oh, Tim.
Genny doesn’t bring it up at dinner. Not right away.
She lets Tim talk, lets him pick at his steak and pretend he’s listening while his phone buzzes once in his pocket and he doesn’t check it. She asks him about work, about the house, about the million other things he’s been dodging since their dad entered hospice, and she does it all with the same calm tone she’s perfected over years of managing her family’s moods.
He doesn’t mention Lucy. Not once.
She half expects him to. To at least talk about how she’s his friend, his subordinate, his coworker, his old rookie. But he doesn’t. He just sits across from her, sipping his beer and giving non-answers about his life, talking about a whole lot of nothing.
Coward.
“So how long has she worked for you?” Genny asks innocently, stabbing a crouton on her plate.
“Who?”
“Lucy.”
Tim doesn’t flinch, but there’s a flicker of something behind his eyes. He shrugs. “Year and a half?”
“And she was your rookie?”
“She was,” he replies carefully. “Now, she’s not.”
“But she’s your assistant,” Genny points out. “She seems to do a good job with it.”
“Yeah,” he says. “She’s great.”
His voice is tight. It’s subtle, but it’s there: the careful avoidance of too much enthusiasm. It’s so Tim that Genny nearly rolls her eyes.
“She seems like someone you trust,” she adds pointedly.
He doesn’t take the bait. He just lifts his bottle and says, “You have to trust people in this job,” like a man dodging bullets.
She goes in for the kill.
“Are you sleeping with her?”
Tim chokes on his drink. He coughs hard, slamming the bottle down on the table as he grabs a napkin. “God, Gen. There’s no way I’m talking about this with you.”
“That wasn’t a no.”
But he doesn’t deny it, or say anything else to defend himself, and that tells her everything she didn’t want to know.
“Tim,” she gasps. “She was your student. You're her boss.”
“I know,” he grits out. “Believe me. I know. But it’s... It’s not like that, okay? It’s not like that.”
“Okay,” Genny says slowly. “So what is it like?”
He doesn’t answer.
She sighs, pushing aside her salad bowl. “You know what, fine. Don’t tell me.”
Tim looks away, jaw clenched. “I care about her,” he admits slowly. “I don’t want to lose her.”
She wishes she knew what to say to that. But it doesn’t matter, because he changes the subject the first chance he gets, before she even has time to formulate any kind of response, and she takes the hint that he doesn’t want to talk about it.
Genny isn’t at all surprised when Tim reluctantly tells her that Lucy will be helping them out with the home renovations. It’ll be nice having an extra set of hands, he justifies. It’ll go quicker, she agrees, which is why she doesn’t say anything about it. Not even a pointed look. She’ll take all the help she can get—she’s not going to scare it away.
The day doesn’t at all go as planned, going on an extreme downward spiral the second Tim finds a gun hidden in their childhood home’s wall. She’s out of the loop for most of it, only getting an apologetic text from Lucy, until Tim comes back and promises to do better. Genny’s pretty sure that’s Lucy’s influence too.
While they’re sweeping, she hears about how Tim visited their father in hospice. She knows it’s not something he ever wanted to do, and it must have something to do with the gun, but she’s not sure she wants to know. He’s still in hospice, and not in a jail cell, so she decides it doesn’t matter enough. So, instead she focuses on the tiny detail that Tim basically glosses over—
Lucy had gone with him to the hospice center. She’d supported him when he needed it.
“Why aren’t you officially together?” Genny asks nosily. “You’re basically there. Is it the boss thing?”
“I don’t see how this is your business.”
“Oh, honey,” she says, softening, in a tone not unlike the one she uses for her students. “You’re my brother. Everything about you is my business.”
Tim doesn’t answer for a while. She lets him stew in the silence as he cleans, before he finally says, “It’s not exactly the boss thing.”
“It’s kind of a big obstacle,” she reasons.
“It wasn’t when we first talked about it.” He sighs.
And then he tells her all of it as they clear the debris from the floor. The wedding, their argument, their agreement. The fact that Lucy had forgotten the details, but she’s still standing her ground, the same side she’d had held firm with during the wedding. Their vague conversations after. How Lucy had pushed him to the Mid-Wilshire sergeant position. He spares Genny the nitty gritty that she definitely doesn’t want to know about her brother, but she gets the broad strokes of the rest.
When he finishes, she exhales through her nose. “You’re an idiot.”
“What?”
“She was drunk, Tim,” she tells him, exasperated. “There’s a good chance she doesn’t even realize what she was saying. She probably didn’t mean it.”
“You and I both know that when people are drunk is when they mean it the most,” he responds bitterly. “She wanted space. So I gave it to her. She wanted lines—we drew them together. And then she started crossing them, and I let her, because I wanted her to. Still do.” His jaw flexes. “But I can’t be the only one willing to risk something.”
“How’s she supposed to risk anything when she doesn’t even know there’s an option?” He opens his mouth, but she holds up a hand. “Save it. I said I like her. I meant it. She’s nice, and she’s smart, and she obviously cares about you—who knows why, but that’s her choice. Just don’t lie to her.”
“I haven’t,” he says, a little too fast.
Genny tilts her head, unimpressed, staring him down. “You’re going to ruin this. Whatever this is.”
He swallows. “It’s not that simple.”
“It never is with you.” She softens, just slightly. “But maybe it could be, if you let it.”
Tim looks like he wants to argue. But he doesn’t. He just sits there, quiet, wounded, like he’s been caught at something even he doesn’t fully understand yet.
Genny doesn’t press any further.
Genny knows that asking Tim to host their father’s reception had been a big ask, and that he only agreed to it for her. So, she makes sure to handle every little detail so that he doesn’t have to, doesn’t press him to talk to anyone or say anything, and thanks the universe that Lucy is obviously guarding him the entire time.
She tries not to think too hard when they both disappear. She expected him to, honestly. And Lucy is there for him.
It’s more difficult to ignore what may have transpired when he returns, looking a little disheveled, without Lucy, demanding for the reception to end. Genny’s exhausted, and the event is on its last legs anyway, so it’s not hard for the two of them to shuffle the last remaining people out.
The more surprising part is when Tim turns to her after everyone’s gone and says, “You too, Gen.”
It’s a little offensive, honestly, so she pays it back pettily.
“I haven’t said bye to Lucy yet,” she responds innocently.
“She already left.”
She narrows her eyes at him, analyzing his expression. “Gosh, Tim. My fourth graders lie better than that.”
“Get out.”
“You know, it’s been decades since you’ve kicked me out because you had a lady friend over,” she comments, before grimacing.
“Don’t say it like that,” Tim groans, scrubbing a hand over his face.
Genny snorts. “What, you want me to say ‘special friend’? Your plus-one? Your unofficial workplace entanglement?”
He glares. “Stop talking.”
She crosses her arms, satisfied. “You’re not even denying it anymore.”
“I’m too tired to deny it.”
“So, that’s it? You’re just admitting it now?”
Tim exhales, worn out. “What’s the point in pretending? You already know.”
“Mm. I do,” she confirms. “But hearing you say it is so much more satisfying.”
He rolls his eyes. “Go home.”
“I am home,” she counters, gesturing around the living room. She’s supposed to be sleeping on the couch tonight—Tim had insisted, after seeing what seedy motel she picked out for cost savings. Though, she does need to swing by and grab her stuff. “Technically, you kicked everyone else out of my reception.”
He shakes his head, muttering something under his breath as he heads toward the kitchen. Genny follows, picking up a few glasses guests left on the way.
She sets them down by the sink as Tim opens the fridge and pulls out a beer. He offers her one with a grunt, but she shakes her head, watching him. He leans against the counter, eyes a little bloodshot, sleeves rolled up now, and Genny’s struck with the sudden, overwhelming ache of grief. Not just for their dad, but for how this whole damn thing has worn her brother down.
“You okay?” she asks, voice low.
He doesn’t answer right away. Just twists the cap off the bottle and takes a long pull. Then, “Define okay.”
“Fair,” she says.
There’s a silence that stretches between them, but it’s not heavy.
“She’s good for you,” Genny says eventually, not looking at him.
He’s quiet again. Then, “I know.”
“You love her, don’t you?”
Tim pauses for only a moment before responding, “Yeah. I do.”
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