Work Text:
Lucy groaned as she threw herself onto the couch, the cushions letting out a puff of air as her body hit them. She barely managed to kick off her heels before face-planting into a throw pillow.
"Men suck," she mumbled into the fabric.
Jackson, sitting on the other side of the room scrolling through his phone, snorted.
"You don't have to tell me," he said, getting up and heading to the fridge. He grabbed a beer, twisted off the cap, and tossed it across the room. "Catch."
Lucy sat up just in time, barely catching it against her chest. She cracked it open with a sigh and leaned back, one leg folded under her.
"Do you want to hear about the worst date of my life or should we just pretend it never happened?" she asked.
"I'm always ready for a trainwreck," Jackson said, settling beside her.
She took a sip and shook her head.
"First of all, we hadn't even ordered food yet and he asked if I believed in prenups."
Jackson blinked. "Wait. Like seriously?"
"I laughed. I thought it was a joke. It wasn't. He looked me dead in the eye and said it's important to get expectations out of the way early."
Jackson tilted his head. "He sounds like a peach."
"Then," Lucy continued, already gearing up, "he tells me he doesn't date women who carry emotional debt."
"Emotional debt," Jackson repeated, disgusted. "That sounds made up."
"I asked what that meant. He said it's baggage that turns into expectations. And when I mentioned that I'm in therapy, he asked if my therapist gives me girlfriend homework."
Jackson gave her a look. "What does that even mean?"
"Assignments to be less clingy," she said flatly.
Jackson groaned and took a sip of his own drink. "I told you not to date lawyers. They're all emotionally constipated and love to quote articles from The Atlantic."
"He said he does pro bono work," Lucy said in a mocking voice.
"For Instagram captions and tax deductions," Jackson shot back.
Lucy took another long sip and leaned her head on the back of the couch. "I shaved my legs for this man."
"Tragic."
"I could have gone out with that guy from the gym. You remember him? The one who asked if I wanted to train chest and emotionally connect?"
Jackson paused like he was genuinely thinking about it. "You know what? At least he was honest. That’s more than Lawyer Boy can say."
"I'm never dating again," Lucy declared. "This couch is my partner now. I'm gonna live here and grow old with pizza and regret."
"Next time you try to swipe right on someone who uses the word litigation in his profile," Jackson said, "I'm confiscating your phone."
Lucy smiled into her bottle. "Thanks. You're a good friend."
"I know," he said, nudging her with his knee. "Now drink your beer and let’s find something to watch that restores your faith in men."
She nodded and shifted closer, settling into the cushions as he grabbed the remote.
"Nothing too romantic," she warned.
"No promises," Jackson said, grinning.
They had scrolled past a hundred movie titles, none good enough to commit to, when Jackson finally broke the silence.
“You know,” he said, stretching out his legs, “maybe you should try again.”
Lucy didn’t even look at him. “Try what again? Dating? Apps? The wild, lawless frontier of digital disappointment?”
Jackson chuckled. “You really make it sound like the Oregon Trail.”
“It is the Oregon Trail,” she said, eyes still fixed on the screen. “Except instead of dying of dysentery, I die a little inside every time a guy messages me ‘hey beautiful’ followed by a fire emoji and a weirdly cropped gym selfie.”
“Fair,” he said. “But not everyone’s like that.”
“Yeah? And where are the guys who aren’t?” She turned to him, eyebrows raised. “Because the last one I met tried to pitch me a cryptocurrency startup in the middle of dinner.”
Jackson gave a theatrical wince. “Okay, but what if I told you there’s an app where you don’t have to see anyone’s face for a week?”
That made Lucy blink. “What?”
He sat up a little. “There’s this new app. It’s called TalkFirst You only get a name, age, and orientation. No photos, no bios, no fun facts. You message for a week. If the vibes are good, then it unlocks their profile picture. If not, you move on.”
She stared at him, unconvinced. “You’re telling me people are out here willingly blind dating in the year of our lord twenty-whatever?”
“Yes. And they’re thriving.”
“Or lying.”
He shrugged. “Probably both. But think about it, it’s no pressure to be hot right out the gate. You just… talk. Like, actually get to know them. And if they turn out to be a disaster, you never have to see their face.”
Lucy raised an eyebrow. “That’s either genius or serial killer bait.”
“Or both,” Jackson said cheerfully. “But I know a girl who met her girlfriend on there, and they’re annoyingly happy. Like, baking-each-other-muffins happy.”
She reached for her beer and took a sip, watching him. “So you only see their name, age, and who they’re into?”
“Yep. Everything else is up to the conversation. No curated bios. No strategic lighting. Just vibes.”
“Huh.” She leaned back, thoughtful. “That’s actually kind of... appealing.”
Jackson smirked. “Knew I’d get you.”
“I didn’t say I was signing up.”
“But you’re thinking about it.”
She didn’t answer right away, just chewed on the idea. No pressure to be charming right away. No judgment. No photos. Just conversation.
It felt kind of... safe.
“You still have the app?” she asked, eyeing his phone.
Jackson handed it over without a word, smug as ever.
She opened it and started clicking through the setup.
Jackson peered over her shoulder. “So... username?”
She glanced at him, deadpan. “If you suggest anything with the word ‘princess,’ I’m leaving.”
He held up his hands. “Hey, this is your romantic destiny. I’m just here for emotional support and wine refills.”
Lucy sighed and tapped in her handle. It was simple. Low-key.
She hit confirm, leaned back, and handed him his phone. “Well,” she said, “let’s see if someone wants to fall in love with me before knowing if I have a good side.”
Jackson grinned. “Joke’s on them. All your sides are good.”
Lucy sat cross-legged on her bed, her phone in one hand and a bag of popcorn in the other, absently scrolling through names on TalkFirst . The app was simple. No faces, no flashy bios. Just names, ages, and orientation.
And so far? A whole lot of meh .
Tyler, 28. Sent her a message that just said “yo.” Red Flag.
Ben, 29. Wrote in all lowercase and used “ur” instead of “you’re.” Nope.
Dylan, 27. Seemed sweet… until he asked if she thought horoscopes were “real or just witchcraft.” Absolutely not.
Lucy rolled her eyes and kept swiping.
She hadn’t meant to be this picky. But something about talking first made her want to be more intentional. She was tired of flirty one-liners and emojis that felt like filler. Tired of pretending to laugh at messages that started with “so what do you do for fun?” like this was an office mixer.
She scrolled past a few more names and paused when she saw one that made her stop chewing.
Tim, 39. Straight.
Older.
Interesting.
She hesitated with her thumb hovering over the screen.
Jackson’s voice rang in her head. “You need a man, not a boy with an ego and a Spotify playlist.”
Tim. Thirty-nine. No bio. No tagline. Just his name and age staring back at her like he had nothing to prove.
She swiped right.
It took half a second for the screen to light up.
It’s a match. You and Tim can now start talking.
Lucy blinked. “Wait—what?”
She stared at the screen like it might change its mind. She wasn’t expecting a match that fast. Especially not with someone ten years older.
A small thrill crept down her spine.
Curious, she tapped on the chat.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. What was the move here? A joke? Something casual?
She settled for simple.
Lucy:
Did we just become pen pals?
A second passed. Then another. She figured he probably wouldn’t answer right away—it was late, and normal people didn’t spend their nights swiping through names with a bag of popcorn in their lap.
But then, the screen blinked.
Tim:
Guess so. Do I need to start every message with “Dear Lucy”?
She smiled. Okay. That was kind of funny.
Lucy:
Only if you plan on signing it “Sincerely, Tim.” Bonus points for dramatic P.S. notes.
Tim:
I take my pen pal duties seriously. Expect a detailed report of my day, complaints about traffic, and deeply personal snack preferences.
She laughed quietly to herself and set the popcorn aside, already typing back.
So maybe this app wasn’t a total disaster after all.
Lucy lay sprawled across her bed, the glow of her phone lighting up the dark room. She’d been texting Tim for almost an hour now, and somehow the conversation still hadn’t hit a lull. It was easy. Effortless, even. Funny without trying too hard.
She stared at the blinking cursor, chewing her bottom lip, then finally typed:
Lucy:
Okay, serious question. What do you do for a living? Besides being a full-time pen pal enthusiast, of course.
A few seconds passed.
Tim:
Wow. You’re just diving right in, huh?
Lucy:
Gotta know what I’m working with. Comes with the job.
Tim:
Let me guess. You’re a cop.
Lucy blinked at her screen, slightly thrown.
Lucy:
How’d you know?
Tim:
P2 habit? Only people who work the streets say stuff like that. Either that or you’re VERY into crime dramas.
Lucy:
Damn. Busted.
Tim:
Guilty as charged. I’m a sergeant.
She sat up straighter, thumbs flying across the screen.
Lucy:
Wait… seriously?
Tim:
Seriously. Why? That a dealbreaker?
Lucy:
Not at all. I just didn’t expect to match with someone who actually gets it.
Tim:
Most people think I spend my days chasing bad guys and eating donuts.
Lucy:
You mean you
don’t
?
Tim:
Only on Fridays. Gotta keep the stereotype alive somehow.
She smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
Lucy:
I’m a K9 officer, by the way.
Tim:
No kidding?
Lucy:
Nope. Been doing it about a year now. I’m still open to other specialties, but K9’s been a solid fit so far. My partner’s a German Shepherd named Leo. He’s grumpy and thinks he runs the unit.
Tim:
That’s impressive. K9’s no joke.
Lucy:
Tell that to Leo. He thinks I’m the sidekick.
Tim:
I mean, technically he’s got more seniority.
Lucy laughed, grabbing a pillow to hug against her chest.
Lucy:
You sound like someone who’s supervised too many young officers with something to prove.
Tim:
I’ve seen my fair share of rookies try to outpace the job. Some settle down. Some burn out. Sounds like you’re pacing yourself.
Lucy:
Trying to. It’s easy to forget it’s a marathon and not a sprint.
Tim:
Trust me. I’ve been in the race a while.
Lucy:
That’s not intimidating at all.
Tim:
Don’t worry. I save the intimidating stuff for the rookies who think they know everything. You don’t strike me as that type.
She smiled and rolled onto her back.
Lucy:
So Sergeant… do you offer career advice as part of your pen pal duties?
Tim:
Only if requested. Usually includes a little sarcasm and unsolicited opinions about footwear. Maybe I’ll write it from my porch, with black coffee and my very serious dog.
Lucy:
You have a dog?
Tim:
You’ll have to wait until next week to see the picture. Rules are rules.
Lucy:
This app is ridiculous.
Tim:
And yet you’re still here.
She bit back a grin, locked her phone, and tucked it under her pillow. Leo gave a quiet huff from his bed across the room, as if even he was judging her.
"Don’t look at me like that," she muttered.
But she couldn’t help the way her smile lingered.
The next few days passed in a blur of long shifts, lukewarm coffee, and a steady stream of texts from Tim .
Not Sergeant Tim. Not work Tim. Just Tim , the guy from the app who made her laugh on her lunch breaks and who sent her a dog meme every night like clockwork.
Their messages had turned into something easy and consistent. A good morning here. A check-in between calls. A sarcastic remark when one of her fellow officers said something dumb over the radio.
She liked it more than she wanted to admit.
Now, walking into the precinct next to Jackson, her eyes flicked down to her phone as it buzzed again.
Tim:
Have a good shift, pen pal. Don’t let Leo boss you around too much.
Lucy grinned.
Lucy:
Impossible. He’s already giving me the “you forgot snacks” look.
She hit send just as Jackson elbowed her lightly.
“Let me guess,” he said, slinging his bag over one shoulder. “Mr. TalkFirst again?”
“Maybe.”
“God, you’re so obvious,” Jackson teased. “You haven’t stopped smiling since Tuesday. I’m starting to worry your face is going to cramp.”
Lucy rolled her eyes and bumped him back with her hip. “Shut up.”
She glanced at her screen again just as another message came through.
Tim:
Tell him I said he needs to be patient. Even K9s have to wait for snacks sometimes.
Her grin widened.
Jackson let out a dramatic groan. “Okay, no. That’s it. That’s the sound of a woman falling.”
“I am not—”
She never finished the sentence.
Distracted by the glow of her phone and Jackson’s relentless commentary, she turned the corner into the hallway and slammed directly into someone solid and broad.
Her phone wobbled in her hand.
“Oh my god, I’m so—”
The man she’d run into stepped back, steadying himself, and her heart plummeted into her stomach.
Sergeant Bradford.
Grumpy. Stoic. Practically carved from stone.
He lowered his phone slowly, expression unreadable except for the tight pull of his jaw.
“Eyes up when you walk,” he said, his voice clipped. “Both of you.”
Jackson muttered an apology while Lucy stood frozen, trying to decide whether to apologize again or dissolve into the floor.
But Bradford didn’t wait. He just gave them both a hard look and stalked down the hallway, back ramrod straight.
Jackson waited until he rounded the corner before turning to her. “Damn. What an asshole. ”
Lucy didn’t say anything right away. Her phone buzzed again in her hand.
Tim:
Leo better not be giving you that look again. I’ll file a complaint.
She smiled.
“Nope,” she said lightly. “He’s fine.”
Jackson narrowed his eyes at her. “You didn’t even hear what I said, did you?”
“I heard you,” she replied, typing quickly.
Lucy:
My night in shining armor.
And then, before Jackson could tease her again, she pocketed her phone, shoved open the locker room door, and grinned to herself.
Because maybe Sergeant Bradford was a grump, and maybe the shift was about to be long, but Tim had told her to have a good one.
And that was more than enough.
Lucy flopped onto her bed, Leo curling at her feet with a groan like he, too, had had enough of the day. Her phone buzzed in her hand just as she kicked her boots off, screen lighting up with the name that had made her smile more this week than anyone in real life had in months.
Tim:
One hour to go. Not that I’m counting or anything.
She laughed, thumbs already flying across the screen.
Lucy:
Please. You’re the one who told me the exact minute the countdown started.
A second passed.
Tim:
Correction: I said, “We are officially less than twenty-four hours from the big face reveal.”
Very different. Very subtle.
Lucy:
Right, how could I forget. Your subtlety is unmatched.
She rolled onto her back, the phone balanced on her stomach, screen glowing above her. She could see the tiny timer in the corner of the app, ticking down with every second. Fifty-eight minutes now.
It was weird, how fast this week had gone.
Weirder still, how it didn’t feel like a week. It felt like… something she’d fallen into without realizing it, like a current pulling her out farther than she’d meant to swim.
They’d talked about everything.
From how Leo had destroyed the backseat of her poor, unfortunate Datsun trying to jump through the window at a squirrel — “That car should’ve been put out of its misery a decade ago,” Tim had said — to how Tim had somehow watched all of Doctor Who and Battlestar Galactica twice in college.
Every conversation left her smiling.
Every dumb little fact made her want to know more.
Her phone buzzed again.
Tim:
I gotta be honest. I’m a little nervous.
Excited, though. I haven’t looked forward to something like this in a long time.
Lucy paused, heart stuttering for a beat.
It was a simple message.
But she could feel the weight behind it.
She knew what it was like, that space between relationships and trying again, not sure if it’s worth it.
Her fingers moved slower this time.
Lucy:
Me too.
I didn’t expect to actually
like
someone on this thing. Definitely didn’t expect to like them this much.
Three little dots appeared. Disappeared. Came back.
Tim:
That makes two of us.
She let the words sit there for a moment, warmth spreading through her chest.
She glanced at the countdown again. Forty-seven minutes now.
She should shower. Fix her hair. Pretend she hadn’t just fallen asleep on her couch earlier like a literal potato.
Instead, she sent one last text.
Lucy:
See you in 46 minutes, Tim.
Tim:
Can’t wait.
The timer hit zero with a soft chime, and suddenly confetti exploded across Lucy’s screen in a burst of colorful pixels.
“Since you started the conversation, you get to see Tim’s picture first!” the app announced cheerfully.
Lucy’s thumb trembled as she hovered over the Continue button. She bit her lip, heart hammering in her chest like a warning drum.
With a shaky breath, she pressed it.
The screen refreshed, and there he was.
Not some charming stranger from the app—
But Sergeant Tim Bradford.
Grumpy. Stern. That same furrowed brow she’d come face-to-face with in the precinct days ago.
The man who’d scolded her for not watching where she was walking.
The man who had somehow become this person she was nervously staring at on her phone.
To say she was shocked was an understatement.
Her stomach twisted into knots, her pulse quickening as her mind raced.
She was so, so fucked.
Lucy sat at the small table in the corner of their favorite coffee shop, the hum of chatter and the rich scent of espresso swirling around her. Her phone lay face-up beside her cup, the screen still showing Sergeant Tim Bradford’s picture. The very same face she’d collided with in the precinct hallway just days before.
She hadn’t pressed the button to send him her photo yet. In fact, she hadn’t replied to his last message at all. Not because she didn’t want to, but because the idea of sharing her face, opening herself up in that way, felt suddenly heavier than she’d expected.
Jackson slid into the seat across from her, balancing his own cup of coffee, and grinned immediately.
“So? Spill it. How’s the mysterious Tim from TalkFirst ? Still charming the pants off you with his dry wit?” His eyes sparkled with mischief.
Lucy gave a small smile but shook her head. “I haven’t sent him my picture yet.”
Jackson blinked. “Wait, seriously? You’ve seen his, but you haven’t sent yours?”
She shrugged, fingers tracing idle circles on the table. “The app gave me the option to wait. I’m grateful for that. It’s… a lot. Seeing him there, as him , not just some stranger behind a screen. I needed time to process it.”
Jackson leaned back, folding his arms with a mock look of guilt. “I’m feeling a little responsible here. You know, for introducing you to the app in the first place.”
Lucy chuckled softly. “Maybe you should. Though to be fair, it’s not like I didn’t ask for it.”
“True.” Jackson smiled, eyes dancing. “But here’s what gets me. One: Sergeant Bradford on a dating app? That was a surprise.”
Lucy nodded, amused despite herself. “Yeah, same here. I always thought he was too… intense for that sort of thing.”
Jackson’s grin widened. “And two: out of everyone in Los Angeles, everyone in this huge city, you match with him .”
She rolled her eyes. “I know. It’s ridiculous.”
Jackson raised an eyebrow. “And then you just ghosted him. Walked away like a boss.”
Lucy shot him a sharp look. “I did not ghost him.”
Jackson laughed. “Oh? What do you call not replying after seeing his face? Come on, that’s textbook ghosting.”
Lucy leaned forward, lowering her voice with a smile. “No, it’s more like... I’m waiting for the right moment. Maybe this is something we need to talk about in person . Like, real face to face, not behind a screen.”
Jackson sipped his coffee, clearly entertained. “Oooh, I like that. Mysterious and mature. It’s very you.”
She smiled, feeling a little lighter. “It’s just… complicated. I wasn’t expecting this to happen, and now that it has, I’m not sure what to do next.”
Jackson nodded, sincere now. “Hey, whatever happens, you do it on your terms. You’re not in a rush. And if Tim is half as good as you say, he’ll understand.”
Lucy glanced down at her phone again, fingers twitching with the urge to type, then pulling back.
“Yeah,” she said softly, “I think he will.”
Lucy had faced down plenty of tense moments in the field, drunken bar fights, K9 calls gone sideways, and more adrenaline than most people could stomach in a day, but nothing quite compared to the nerves coiling in her stomach as she glanced across the bullpen at Sergeant Bradford.
Her phone still had the unread message from Tim.
Not Sergeant Bradford , Tim. Her Tim. The man she’d been texting for over a week. The man whose face had popped up on her screen just two nights ago, after a flurry of virtual confetti and the message: You get to see their face first!
And there he’d been.
Not some random stranger in LA.
A Sargent at her station.
And now she couldn’t unsee it.
“Okay,” she muttered to herself, trying to psyche herself up. “You’ve done worse. You can talk to a man. It’s just a conversation.”
Jackson raised a brow from where he was sipping bad coffee. “Are we still talking about your man?”
Lucy gave him a look. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Lucky for you, I’m helpful,” he replied. “So? You gonna tell him?”
She sighed and looked over at the figure hunched over the desk across the room. Tim Bradford was intimidating on a good day. He wasn’t mean exactly, but his energy could have curdled milk. He barked orders like he was still in the military and glared at paperwork like it had insulted his mother.
“I should talk to him,” she said quietly.
“Your sergeant?” Jackson asked with a grin. “Yeah, you really should!”
Lucy grimaced. “He doesn’t even know me. He probably thinks I’m some random rookie.”
“Still… out of everyone in LA to match with on a dating app and then ghost, what are the odds it’s the grumpiest man on earth.”
“I didn’t know ,” she groaned. “And I didn’t ghost him.”
“You didn’t not ghost him,” Jackson pointed out. “You saw the photo. You stopped replying. Classic ghost.”
“I’m working on it,” Lucy said. “Maybe this is one of those things that’s better handled in person.”
Jackson laughed under his breath. “Can I be in the room when you do it?”
“Absolutely not.”
With that, she stood and started toward Sergeant Bradford’s desk. Each step felt like a mile. He hadn’t looked up yet, focused entirely on a thick folder in front of him, pen flying across the page in sharp, impatient strokes.
Lucy waited until he flipped to the next page before she spoke.
“Excuse me, Sergeant Bradford?”
He looked up slowly. His eyes were sharp, sizing her up quickly, not with recognition but with that same exacting intensity he seemed to reserve for every living soul in the building.
“Yeah?”
She swallowed. “Could I speak with you? In private?”
He narrowed his eyes slightly, not out of suspicion, just annoyance at the interruption. “Is this about a case?”
“Not exactly,” she said, standing her ground. “But it’s important.”
His jaw worked for a second like he was weighing whether to shut her down or not. Then he stood, clipped and brisk, and nodded toward the hallway.
Lucy followed him down the corridor toward one of the empty interview rooms. He held the door open and waited for her to enter, stepping in behind her.
Inside, he crossed his arms and gave her a curious look. “Alright. What’s this about?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. The words tangled on her tongue. How did you tell someone you’d been texting them every night, half-falling for them over shared jokes and long conversations, only to discover they were your superior officer?
“I… this is going to sound weird,” Lucy said slowly. “And I know it’s out of the blue. But I need you to hear me out. I promise I’m not wasting your time.”
His expression didn’t change. Not softer. Not harsher. Just waiting.
She stared down at her boots for a second, then back up at him.
“I think we’ve already met. Just… not like this.”
Bradford tilted his head slightly, arms still crossed, waiting. "Okay..."
She looked down at the floor, searching for words. "I matched with someone on the TalkFirst app."
He blinked slowly, not saying anything.
"We've been talking. For a while. Messaging back and forth a lot. It was actually... really great. We talked about everything. They told me about their thing for Doctor Who and I went on about my beat-up orange Datsun. It felt real."
He shifted his weight slightly but stayed quiet.
"And well the app doesn't show pictures right away. Just the conversation. And after a few days, there’s a countdown. Whoever started the conversation gets to see the other person's picture first."
Bradford's brow furrowed.
"Mine ended two nights ago," she continued. "I saw a photo."
The silence thickened.
Lucy swallowed hard. "It was you."
He blinked again, more slowly this time.
"You’re my lucy?" Her heart clenched a little bit at that.
She gave him a tiny, nervous nod. "Yeah. And you're my Tim."
He stared at her, eyes flicking over her face like he was seeing it for the first time. "No way."
"I know. Believe me, I know." She laughed softly, but it sounded uneasy. "When your face popped up on my screen, I dropped my phone. I didn’t know what to do. You're a sergeant. I’ve worked at the same station with you for a long time now. I didn’t expect it to be you."
Tim finally spoke, voice quiet and flat. "We’ve hardly talked, andnow you’re saying you’re the girl I’ve been talking to for weeks?"
"I know. That’s the whole idea, right? Getting to know someone without all the pressure."
He looked down for a moment, then back at her. "So you saw my picture. And then stopped responding."
Lucy’s face flushed. "I didn’t know what to say. I panicked. I didn’t ghost you, not really. I just... froze. I couldn’t figure out how to come back from that."
"You could’ve said something," he said quietly.
"I wanted to. I thought about it every day. But how was I supposed to say that to you? That the guy I’d been connecting with on a dating app was also the guy with the scary clipboard who intimidates everyone in the bullpen?"
His lips twitched, like he wanted to laugh but didn’t.
"I wasn’t going to tell you," Lucy admitted. "I figured it would be easier to let it go. But I kept thinking about it. About how easy it was to talk to you before I knew it was you. How much I liked it. And I figured, maybe you deserved to know."
Tim was quiet again. His expression was unreadable, but something behind his eyes had shifted.
"I’m sorry if this is awkward or unprofessional. I just thought you should hear it from me."
She turned slightly, ready to walk away, her heart pounding, waiting for him to say something. Anything.
Lucy barely made it three steps before she heard him say her name.
"Lucy."
She stopped, eyes fixed on the door ahead. Her heart pounded so hard it echoed in her ears.
"I’ve been thinking about you every day since we started talking," Tim said, voice softer than she’d ever heard it. "I’d get back from shift and check my phone like some dumb teenager, hoping you’d replied."
She clenched her hands at her sides. The hallway felt too quiet now. Too still.
"I looked forward to it. To hearing from you. Reading what you had to say." His voice was closer. She could hear it behind her now, low and sure. "You made me laugh. You made me feel... I don’t even know. Lighter, I guess. Happier."
She could feel the warmth of him now, standing just behind her. Not touching, but close enough that the space between them practically hummed.
"And finding out it was you," he said, exhaling slow, "it didn’t change anything for me. It just gave it a face. A name. You’re still you. You’re still the person I got to know."
Lucy’s breath hitched, but she didn’t turn around. Her eyes were burning.
"I’m not good with words," he murmured, and she could feel the truth of it in how carefully he spoke. "But I’m good with knowing what I want."
He stepped closer, close enough now that she could feel the faintest brush of his breath against the back of her neck.
"And I want you."
She closed her eyes, body tight with everything she was feeling. The panic, the hope, the weight of the secret she’d been holding. She felt his presence like a promise, steady and strong behind her.
It took everything in her to finally turn around.
When she did, his eyes were already on her. Clear. Steady. Soft in a way she hadn’t expected, not from the gruff, clipboard-carrying sergeant who rarely smiled.
But this wasn’t that Tim.
This was the man who teased her about her old car, who sent her doctor who clips at midnight, who had once described his perfect Sunday morning in a way that made her wish she could live inside that morning with him.
This was her Tim.
And for the first time since she saw his picture on her phone, Lucy smiled.
The lights were low, the flicker of the TV casting a soft blue glow over the living room. The familiar hum of the Doctor Who theme drifted through the air, but neither of them was really watching.
Lucy sat curled up on the couch, half in Tim’s lap, fingers tangled in the collar of his worn grey t-shirt. Her lips were swollen from kissing, her hair mussed, and there was a dazed kind of happiness in her eyes. She pulled back just enough to look at him, chest rising and falling with each breath.
"Happy anniversary," she whispered, smiling against his mouth.
Tim grinned, one hand still resting on her waist. "Best year of my life," he said, his voice a little hoarse.
"That’s a big claim, Sergeant."
"Well," he said, leaning in just slightly, brushing his nose against hers. "You make everything better. Even that trash orange car of yours."
She rolled her eyes. "You still bring up the Datsun after all this time?"
"I have to. It’s part of your charm." He looked down at her, and something softened in his expression. "You’re part of mine."
Lucy hummed, a warm, pleased sound in the back of her throat, and slid her hand up the back of his neck, pulling him in again. “Shut up and kiss me,” she murmured.
He didn’t need telling twice.
Their mouths met again, slow and deep, the kind of kiss that came from knowing someone completely and wanting them anyway. The TV continued to play in the background, some wild alien chase scene unfolding, completely ignored.
As Lucy sank back into his arms, melting into the kiss, a thought flickered through her mind.
Whoever said dating apps were useless clearly hadn’t tried this one.