Which is hot in its own way. The stolen looks and sly glances, the torturous countdown until they can finally be together and touch and kiss and get their hands all over each other. Staying perfectly professional all day at work and then ripping each other’s clothes off the second she gets to his place.   She was the one who mentioned they should keep it between them while their relationship was still new, and Tim had readily agreed. But it’s been more than a month now and he hasn’t said anything about telling anyone, not Angela, not Harper, or going public at their usual cop bar after work so everyone is clued in. Lucy tries not to take it personally, knows he might need some time before declaring to the station he’s seeing his former rookie in a romantic sense. And she’s sure she is thankful for the reprieve from any sly comments or knowing looks, whatever assumptions people will draw written all over their faces when they look at her. But the thing is, she’s prepared for them, even steeled herself against them the second she decided to be with him, when she finally let those butterflies in her stomach fly free the moment he kissed her. Only Jackson knows because of course, if she’s spending nights away from her bed, her roommate is going to notice. It was only logical to clue him in and make the secret keeping a lot easier on herself, and to enjoy his reaction since he said he’s shipped it for like, eight months now. Not to mention the knowing glances he can toss Tim’s way which annoy the hell out of the senior officer. (“I just don’t like a rookie knowing my business.” “Former rookie. And would you rather I leave every night?” “… Fine. He can know.”) But maybe Tim’s not ready to officially go public yet. Which, is fine, she can wait as long as he wants. That’s not what’s important, what’s important is them and this thing they’ve embarked on, and spending time together and being with each other, crystal clarity dawning on them more and more that this is who they want to be with for a long, long time. But she sure wishes she could just walk over and sit by him, lean against him, maybe hold hands under the table because she knows he’s not a PDA kinda guy. Maybe flirt a little and slip out early with a lame excuse with all their friends knowing exactly what they’re up to. She’ll just have to wait a little longer for that. She sits squeezed into a booth with Nolan and Bailey, with Jackson at her side so she doesn’t feel like a third wheel. Thankfully going through Henry and Abigail’s wedding decor choices makes for great entertainment and she barely even notices by the time their first drinks are empty. “I gotta get going, but I’ll get refills,” she offers. “What, already?” Nolan says. “Come on, we’re off tomorrow.” “I know, but I’m meeting a friend,” she says vaguely, ignoring Jackson’s sly smile and moving towards the bar when she sees an opening in the crowd. “BRB!” ~~~ “Who’s that guy flirting with Chen?” Tim tells himself he turns to the bar at a normal and totally reasonable speed, but maybe he’s kidding himself because he swears his neck hurts from turning at the speed of light. Sure enough, Lucy’s at the bar waiting for refills talking to some tall brown haired guy who is looking a little too animated to just be exchanging pleasantries or directions to the bathroom. He knows Lucy’s chatty, but what the hell could they be talking about for so long, two strangers at the same bar.

There’s no need for so much unnecessary chatter. “Oh, that’s Paloma’s cousin,” Angela says, craning her neck around Tim to look at the man in question. “She said he’s bunking with her a few weeks until he finds a place. He’s hot. Chen should go for it. Girl needs to get some.” Their friend Michael just snorts into his drink, used to Angela’s comments from them all being rookies together. Tim just shakes his head at her, frowning for a reason that Angela doesn’t know yet. Angela rolls her eyes, assuming it’s because she’s commenting on people’s sex lives again, or lack thereof.

“What?” She shrugs. “Don’t be such a prude, they’re not our rookies anymore. Plus, I know you guys are friends. If no one else is going to ask her out,” she gives Tim a pointed look, “then he should.”

“Yeah, Bradford, you guys are friends,” Harper echoes from across the table, amusement dancing in her eyes, a knowing smile on her lips as if she’s daring Tim to challenge that statement. Harper was Tim’s point of contact when Lucy was UC on that op when she’d missed her check-in, he knows she probably read too much into his panic and protection for his former rookie. Well, she read into it absolutely right but he’s not gonna tell her that. “I- let’s- this is why I need you around more, Mike, so we can talk about the Rams instead of people’s private lives,” Tim emphasizes, knowing he’s deflecting and hoping it works. Thankfully, Michael isn’t at the same station as them to have a stake in team chenford and falls for the bait. “Hey, you’re welcome to come drink at our bar, buddy, the best chili fries in the state.” Angela points at him. “They are good. But our beer’s better.” “It’s not better, Ange,” Michael says, offended. “It’s so better, isn’t it, Tim?” Tim just nods, staring at the television installed on the opposite wall and pretending to be very interested in the local weather report, mostly so he can keep Lucy in the corner of his vision. She’s got her platter of drinks from the bartender by now but Paloma’s cousin, whoever he is, just keeps chatting and Lucy keeps smiling and nodding. “Ooh, he’s gonna check out her ass as she walks away, look!” Angela says with a laugh. And sure enough, they all watch as the stranger smiles one last time at Lucy, watching appreciatively as she turns and walks back to her table. Michael shakes his head in mock disappointment. “What can I say, we menfolk are a simple people.” “Ain’t that the truth,” Angela laughs, pushing aside her empty drink and reaching for her phone to text Wes. “He’s wearing a necklace,” Tim comments, shaking his head in disgust, remembering the derogatory comments his former drill sergeant would bark about men and jewelry and it absolutely not allowed in boot camp. “Surfer,” Michael snorts, and he and Tim share an amused look. “So? That’s cool, maybe she’s into laid back beach dudes,” Angela says, coming to Paloma’s cousin’s defense for no good reason other than to annoy him. “You army guys wear dog tags.” Tim glares at her, offended and annoyed at the comparison. “That’s completely different.” “Sure it is, Bradford, whatever you wanna tell yourself.” Harper still has her gaze on Tim, her wise eyes thoughtful as if she can read right through him. “Chen’s great, she deserves a great guy, surfer or not. Been a few months since she and her boyfriend broke up, right?” Angela nods, filled in on all the precinct gossip like usual. “Yeah, the professor. Jackson said it just fizzled after she got shot.” “Probably not man enough to handle being with a cop,” Nyla says harshly, her opinion of said ex-boyfriend very clear by the tone of her voice. “You know that’s right,” Angela agrees with a look of solidarity at Nyla. “Okay, Wes is out front. Be responsible, guys, make good choices. Nice seeing you, Mike.” ~~~ Tim’s not sure how he and Michael make it over to the former rookies’ table but somehow they have. It’s the last place he wants to be considering he wants to get the hell out of here and be in bed with Lucy (or on the couch, or against the wall, he’s not specific about the first round once they step foot inside the house), but at least this puts him in her vicinity even if they’re resolutely avoiding eye contact. Nolan had stopped Michael to introduce himself, saying he looked familiar, remembering that they’d run into each other once at a crime scene. Of course, who hasn’t this guy met in the area considering how damn old he is? But sure enough, with the former rookies is where he’s standing when brown haired surfer guy with a necklace makes his way over to the table, his eyes locked on Lucy.

“Hey, Lucy,” he says warmly, a little too warmly for a complete stranger if Tim has anything to say about it, “Paloma and I are headed out, but uh, call me sometime. I’d love to make dinner for you at the restaurant.” He holds out a business card with a number scrawled on the back, waits until she has no choice but to take it. “G’night.” With a passing nod to everyone else at the table, he takes two steps back, eyes still locked on Lucy, then disappears in the crowd.

“He wants to make dinner for you?” Bailey repeats, tone excited and overjoyed in that over-the-top way girls are for one another at every little thing. “I- not for me in particular! He’s a chef so he makes dinner for the whole restaurant, obviously,” Lucy explains, shaking her head in embarrassment as all eyes at the table are on her. She pointedly ignores Tim’s steadfast gaze from where he’s standing behind Jackson, eyes darting between Nolan and Jackson, pleading silently for her friends to save her from the unnecessary attention. “A man who cooks real food,” Bailey sighs dreamily, “yes, please. “I cook,” Nolan says quickly to his girlfriend, “everyone here can cook. Well, wait, can you, Michael? I know Jackson can’t.” When he opens his mouth to argue, John says, “Something made out of real ingredients, Jackson, not out of a box.” “Boxed food is still real food!” Jackson argues. “Are you good enough to be a chef at a restaurant in Los Angeles?” Bailey questions, then smiles triumphantly when Nolan falls quiet with no response. “That’s what I thought. So,” she turns back to Lucy, waggling her eyebrows, rubbing her palms together in animated excitement, “when are you going to text him? Definitely not tonight, too soon.” “Way too soon,” Nolan agrees. “Yeah, Luce, when are you gonna text him?” Jackson joins in on the teasing, having too much fun at his friend’s expense, very aware of Tim’s looming presence over his shoulder. And how he can do nothing about it without ‘fessing up.   “I-I’m not calling him!” Lucy looks around at everyone at the table, her gaze quickly meeting Tim’s, catching the way he’s staring at her, expression completely blank. He takes a sip of his beer when she catches his eye, and she quickly looks away in case the others catch her lingering. There are supposed to be no lingering glances, remember? “All I did was talk a little about the restaurants I’ve eaten at since he’s new to the area. That’s it. Nothing more.” “No harm in calling,” Nolan says gently, that overly friendly smile on his face that usually puts the person at the receiving end of it at ease. Lucy is not at ease, though, not right now, not with this conversation, not with Tim’s intense stare on her. “I mean, you are single. And he’s not a cop.” Bailey makes a face and releases a sound of disgust. “Ugh, two cops in a relationship. That sounds horrible.” Seeing the panic on Lucy’s face, Jackson quickly intervenes, “Hey, what’s wrong with two cops being together, huh? It can work.” “Really? Do share which cop couple is making it work, Jackson,” Nolan says sarcastically. “I-um,” Jackson shares a frantic look with Lucy at being cornered, then quickly looks up to the newcomer at the table for help, “hey, Michael, what’s your wife do?” He gestures toward his ring finger, having seen Michael’s wedding band. 
“She’s a librarian. Sorry.” Jackson grimaces. “There is one cop couple at our precinct-“ “See?!” Jackson says quickly, gesturing towards everyone at the table. “But they just got divorced after four years, so.” “Oh.” Jackson exchanges an apologetic glance with Lucy and decides to help by switching gears entirely. He happens to glance at Tim, catching his eye inadvertently and Michael sees the look. “And, well, Tim’s another statistic about cop marriages. Sorry, bud, but the rooks asked for examples, good or bad.” Tim’s jaw clenches, his eyes focused on the wooden table in front of them, and Lucy is sure she’s going to burst into tears of frustration and embarrassment any moment now.

Tim was right. They should’ve snuck out half an hour ago when he’d told her he’d had enough socializing for the night. He was right, he is always right.

“Anyway,” Jackson says frantically, drawing Lucy’s gaze to his, nodding supportively at his friend, “that’s one precinct in all the world. Hardly enough evidence for a scientific study, I’d say. Um, so Lucy and me are definitely invited to Henry’s wedding, right, John? I figured we could split a gift.” “I’ll walk you out,” Tim says to Mike, and the two make their way to the exit. He looks back at Lucy before he opens the door, giving her the subtlest of nods to join him before he steps outside. She grabs her purse, and fishes out her keys, gets ready to make her excuse to leave. ~~~ When she lets herself into Tim’s house, Kojo greets her enthusiastically, directing her to the couch so she has no choice but to slip off her shoes and sit down to cuddle with him. She lets out a sigh of relief at being out of that bar, away from that conversation, and wonders if she and Tim will talk about it tonight, or just brush it aside in that way new couples do when they don’t want to get to the ugly stuff just yet. She’d just been talking to the guy about restaurants, she had no idea it’d turn into such a thing and turn the whole night sour. “I have got to stop talking to strange men in bars, Kojo,” she tells the dog, and he makes a sound like he agrees. “I was just trying to welcome him to LA, jeez.” When she looks up, Tim’s making his way out of the bedroom, changed into sweats and a threadbare t-shirt, water bottle in one hand as he eyes her with a soft smile on his face. “Hi. Hey. Um... you left the door unlocked.” “Yeah, figured you were a few minutes behind me.” He makes his way to the couch and sits down next to her, leaving a few inches of space, not touching or reaching for her. She feels the immense gap in those few inches and tries to blink back the sudden rush of tears, to school her face from showing the spasm of hurt she feels. God, she may have dabbled in undercover but when it comes to him, to this, she feels like she’s constantly wearing her heart on her sleeve, her emotions written all over her face. The conversation in the bar is literally taking up space between them. So, Lucy does what she does best - she talks her way through it. “Sorry. About earlier, at the bar.” Tim’s gaze turns to her, blue eyes solemn as he listens. “I wasn’t- I didn’t know he was going to ask me out. We were just talking restaurants while I waited for drinks, that’s all.” “You don’t owe me an explanation,” Tim says slowly, and her heart falls. Oh. But she wants to explain to him, she wants him to know. They’re together, aren’t they? Of course they are. She’d want Tim to explain if some woman at a bar dropped off her number. She knows he wouldn’t call, he’s too honorable for that, but she’d still want to hear it, to feel reassured and confident as they begin this relationship they’re embarking on. Doesn’t he want the same? Doesn’t he trust her the same way? Does he think she would call or that it’s okay if she does because he’s not serious about this? Does- She takes a deep breath, tries to calm the barrage of thoughts running through her mind, tries not to regret coming over to his place. But clearly she’s not in the best headspace she could be in, and she should probably go mope in the comfort and security of her own bed, wait for Jackson to come home so she has someone to overanalyze and agonize over this with. “I should go,” she says quietly, avoiding his eyes and giving Kojo a few last cuddles. “I’m more tired than I thought.” She only manages to take two steps when he’s grabbing her arm and tugging her towards him, both of them standing and facing each other finally after a long day of staying professionally apart. Lucy wants to wrap her arms around him so bad, just hold him tight and snuggle into his soft t-shirt but she’s not sure exactly what to do, if she should. “Lucy? Hey, did I say something wrong?” “No, no,” she says quickly, shaking her head to avoid his eyes. “You sure? I just meant-“

“I’m not going to call him!” It blurts out of her before she can stop herself, and she watches as he stops talking instantly to listen closely. “Of course not. We’re together. I just couldn’t say anything in front of everyone since you don’t want them to know about us yet. Which is fine! I’m not rushing you, I just don’t want you to think I’m-“

“Wait, wait, hold on.” He does that thing where he physically shakes his head a little as if he can clear it that way, rearrange the neatly organized way he used to store his thoughts before an infuriating and honest rookie came in and jumbled up his bland, boring world. “What do you mean, me? You’re the one who doesn’t want everyone to know.” Lucy stares at him, dumbfounded. “What?” He stares at her like she’s crazy and not keeping up on purpose, like this is a test and he refuses to fail. “You said you didn’t want people to know about us yet. Remember when-“ “Yet,” she emphasizes loudly, underlining the invisible word in the air with her hand just in case he’s missing the importance she’s giving it. “As in, not right at the beginning when it was new and we were in a fun, secret bubble about it. But it’s been over a month now, and you-“ “I know how long it’s been,” Tim snaps, crossing his arms over his chest in defiance, “but you were  the one who said it, so I was waiting for you to tell everyone.” Lucy stares at him, eyes narrowed like he’s saying all this just to annoy her, like he’s the one making this a Tim Test. But he’s serious and intent as he looks at her, so she finally relaxes, can truly feel the stress escape her body as she releases a little huff of disbelief. “I was waiting for you to tell everyone.” Tim snorts in amusement, shaking his head at her as if this is all her fault. He reaches out, pulling her into his side, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “You and your brain,” he says fondly. “Hey, don’t blame this all on me!” She smacks his chest playfully, glaring at him when he looks down at her. Finally, like she’s wanted to all night, she wraps her arms around his broad chest, her hands meeting behind his back, holding tight and vowing not to let go until she has to. She just doesn’t want to let him go. “It takes two to communicate, you know.” “I’m well aware, but figured since you love to hear yourself talk, you’d do the majority of the communicating.” Her jaw drops open in offense, a gasp escaping her even as he simply grins. Oh, he thinks just because he’s smiling and his eyes are twinkling, that he’s going to get away with that, nope, no way. “Excuse you, just because I excel at the fine art of conversation doesn’t mean-“ Suddenly she’s swallowing her words and humming in surprise as his lips meet hers. Then there’s no need to talk anymore, just a need to kiss, because they haven’t kissed all day and that’s just too damn long. Lucy stretches on her tip toes, squeezing him tight where her arms are looped around him, moaning at the way he kisses just like he does everything else in his life - with skill and precision, with attention to detail, with excellence. His big hands cradle her head gently, his tongue probing against her lips, sweeping the corners of her mouth like he’s trying to find all the secrets she hasn’t shared yet. “Tim,” she murmurs, clutching the fabric of his shirt, pulling away when she finally, annoyingly has to breathe. She rests her forehead against his own, thankful he’s leaning down so she doesn’t have to stretch up as much anymore. “I missed you.” “I missed you too,” he whispers, dropping one more fierce kiss on her lips, hands still holding her face like he doesn’t want to let go. He smiles at her, fingers tracing the apples of her cheeks, his lips still close enough to brush against hers every time he speaks. “And I know you’re not gonna call him. I know we’re dating. I know this is good. And we can tell everyone. I’ve had the relationship declaration form for weeks, just need you to sign.”

“You have?” Lucy perks up at that, smiling at him in outright giddiness. “Okay, I’ll sign. Sooo, next time someone asks me out,” she runs her fingers up his strong arms, wraps her arms around his neck, leaning all her body weight onto him deliberately so he has to adjust his stance and catch her in his arms, “I can say you’re my boyfriend?” She can’t stop smiling, the giddiness radiating through her, giving her more of a buzz than all the beer in the bar could’ve.

“Lucy,” a hand was shaking her shoulder. Maybe she should wake up, but it had been such a long week and she was so tired and her lap was so warm and…

Lucy cracks open an eye, fixing it first on Jackson crouching next to her, then opening both eyes when she realizes what (or really, who) is draped across her lower half. “What in the actual heck is happening right now?” Jackson whispers, face fixed with a look somewhere between gleeful and manic.

Lucy goes to rub her hands over her face, but only one can make the journey. Her left hand is otherwise occupied, cradling the sleeping head of one Tim Bradford.

Tim’s made himself quite comfortable, it seems. His head is pillowed in her hand; face tucked tight against the band of her uniform pants -- luckily, it seems they both returned their firearms and put away their duty belts before napping. On the floor of the breakroom. At the station. What the actual heck, indeed, Lucy thinks.

“Go away, Jackson.”

Tim’s voice is muffled -- because his face in is your lap , her brain unhelpfully squeals, sounding suspiciously like Angela -- but he makes no moves to sit up. Lucy isn’t sure what else to do, so she starts talking.

“We had mandatory callbacks, and you know how understaffed we’ve been since those transfers went to North Hollywood, and I guess we just got tired, and really, it’s terrifically comfortable on the floor in here. I recommend trying it sometime yourself, Jackson.” Jackson nods, smirking, “Okay, Lucy. I’m going to clock in, but it looks like your on-call shift is over, so I would recommend taking whatever this is,” he waves over her and Tim, still tucked together on the floor, “somewhere else. There are a bunch of people in the locker rooms right now, and their next stop will be this room.”

Jackson stands, mouthing to Lucy, “Talk later?” as he exits the break room. She’s not getting out of that conversation, but first, she needs to get out of this room.

“Is he gone?” Tim says, and Lucy jumps, almost forgetting that he’s awake. How long has she been stroking her hand through his hair? “Um, yeah,” she stutters, “He’s gone. Jackson’s gone. He went to clock in. There are people? In the locker rooms.”

“Breathe, Luce,” Tim says, sitting up and giving his spine a little twist in each direction. He stays on the floor, facing her. “This isn’t the first time that a few officers have fallen asleep in the breakroom.”

“Do they usually cuddle ?” she hisses, whispering as someone passes by the breakroom doorway. The side of Tim’s mouth raises in that annoyingly attractive half-smile.