#lucychen

Proud Husband!! And he love here so much!!

2.13 & 7.17

this is why ppl are mad:

Tim Bradford x Lucy Chen

Summary: Lucy makes Tim laugh in a way he hasn’t in a long time, and he comes close to revealing the deeper feelings he’s been holding back.

The afternoon sunlight spilled across the living room, catching the dust motes and turning them into tiny dancers. Tim sat slouched in the corner of the couch, half-watching a rerun on the TV but mostly letting his mind wander. He’d had a long week at the precinct—too many calls, too many moments where he had to pretend he was unfazed.

Lucy sat across from him on the armchair, a mug of coffee in her hands, hair pulled up haphazardly, and a mischievous glint in her eyes. Tim had always liked that about her—the way she could look like she was plotting world domination and yet somehow be completely harmless.

“You know what’s hilarious?” Lucy said suddenly, leaning forward with the kind of enthusiasm that made it impossible not to lean in too. “I found this old video of myself trying to do yoga last year.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “Uh-oh. Should I be worried?”

“You should definitely be worried,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips. She pulled her phone out and clicked play. The screen lit up with the unmistakable chaos of Lucy in mid-yoga pose, limbs flailing, hair a mess, and a distinctly ungraceful attempt at balance.

Tim had seen her try yoga before, but somehow this version, caught on shaky home video, was exponentially funnier. He tried to stifle it, but the first chuckle slipped out. Then another. And another, building into a laugh he couldn’t contain.

Lucy’s eyes lit up, thrilled to have drawn it out of him. “Oh my god, you’re actually laughing! I wasn’t sure you knew how.”

“Shut up,” he said, but he wasn’t mad. Not really. He leaned back, trying to catch his breath. “That’s… that’s brutal. I didn’t know anyone could look that ridiculous.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t fall off the couch that day,” Lucy said, laughing along with him. “I was this close.” She held her fingers a tiny fraction apart. “So close, Tim. You don’t even know.”

Tim shook his head, still laughing. And then, for a moment, the laughter faded into something quieter, softer. He looked at her, sitting there, glowing in the warm afternoon light, and he felt that familiar tightness in his chest—the one that had been there ever since he realized that his feelings for Lucy were… more than friendly.

He almost said it then. Almost.

“I… uh…” he started, then stopped. The words caught in his throat. The words he had rehearsed a thousand times in his head, words that might ruin this easy, light, perfect moment between them.

Lucy tilted her head, sensing the shift. “What is it?” she asked, voice gentle. “You look… weird.”

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, too quickly. The truth was, he wasn’t—his chest still felt tight with the words he hadn’t said. “Just… that video. It’s… it’s something else.”

Lucy narrowed her eyes playfully. “Hmm. I don’t buy it.” She set her mug down and leaned closer. “You’re not fine, Tim. You’re trying to hide something. You always hide something.”

He groaned, partly because she was right and partly because she had that infuriating way of seeing straight through him. “I’m telling you,” he said, trying to reclaim control of the moment, “it’s nothing. Just… funny video. That’s it.”

Lucy laughed softly, but there was a knowing softness in her gaze that made him feel exposed. “You know,” she said, tilting her head, “sometimes it’s okay to tell people things. You don’t have to keep everything in.”

Tim swallowed. He wanted to. He wanted to tell her that she made him laugh in a way no one else could, that it mattered to him more than he could admit. That her smile, her voice, her laugh—it all hit him harder than he was willing to confess. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

“Yeah,” he said instead, letting a small smile play at his lips. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

Lucy smiled back, a little triumph in her eyes. “See? You can be honest with me.”

Tim laughed again, quieter this time, shaking his head. “You make it too easy sometimes.”

She tilted her head, eyes glinting with amusement. “Too easy, huh? That’s the complaint?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, leaning back into the couch, his chest tight with unsaid words. “Too easy.”

They sat in companionable silence for a while, the only sounds the hum of the TV and the soft clink of Lucy’s mug as she set it back on the table. Tim found himself stealing glances at her, memorizing the way the sunlight caught the strands of her hair, the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed at something stupid, the curve of her smile. He almost said it again. Almost.

Lucy reached over and nudged his shoulder gently with hers. “You know,” she said softly, “I like this. Us laughing like this. No pressure, no… anything else. Just… us.”

Tim nodded, swallowing hard. He wanted to tell her that “us” was everything to him, that her laughter was a lifeline on days he felt stretched too thin. But he let it go, letting the moment exist in its fragile perfection.

“Yeah,” he said instead. “Just… us.”

And for now, that was enough.

Tim stretched out on the couch, letting his back sink into the cushions. Lucy had moved over to sit beside him, curling one leg under her and resting her arm along the back of the couch. There was a comfortable quiet between them now, the kind that only comes after real laughter, when the air itself seems softer.

Without thinking, Lucy reached over and began running her fingers through Tim’s hair. Light, teasing strokes at first, just enough to make him squirm. He closed his eyes, letting the tension in his shoulders melt a little under her touch.

“You’re way too tense,” she murmured, almost to herself. “You need to relax more.”

“I’m relaxed,” he said, though his voice betrayed him. The truth was, he wasn’t—his chest still felt tight with the words he hadn’t said. But her touch… it helped, even if only a little.

Lucy laughed softly. “Relaxed, huh? Sure. If this is your version of relaxed, then I don’t know what to say.” She tugged lightly at a strand of hair near his temple. “See? You’re smiling without even trying. That’s a start.”

Tim let out a quiet chuckle. “I guess… maybe it is.” He turned his head slightly to look at her, caught off guard by how close she was. Her eyes were gentle, teasing, but there was a softness there too—a look that made his throat tighten.

“Tim,” she said, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “You can tell me things, you know. You don’t always have to hide stuff.”

He wanted to. God, he wanted to. His entire chest ached with it—the things he felt for her, the way she made him feel more alive than he had in months. He opened his mouth… and closed it again. The words stuck.

Instead, he just shifted closer, letting her hand linger in his hair. The silence wasn’t awkward—it was charged, full of all the things left unsaid. Lucy tilted her head, noticing the way his eyes softened when he looked at her, the little hitch in his breath.

“You’re almost telling me something,” she said quietly, a knowing smile on her lips. “I can see it in your eyes. You don’t have to, if you’re not ready. But…”

He swallowed hard. That tiny “but” she left hanging between them felt like the most important thing in the world. He wanted to fill it with his confession, to tell her that she mattered more than anyone had in years, that her laughter, her warmth, her presence—it all made him feel… whole.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he let out a small, sheepish laugh. “I’m… not ready,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But… maybe someday.”

Lucy’s smile softened. She leaned a little closer, pressing her forehead gently against his shoulder. “Someday,” she echoed. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Tim closed his eyes, letting himself soak in the moment. It wasn’t a confession, but it was close enough. The laughter, the touch, the quiet understanding—they all said more than words could right now.

For the rest of the afternoon, they stayed like that. Tim on the couch, Lucy beside him, her fingers threading through his hair, his head occasionally turning toward her, just barely brushing her shoulder. No awkwardness. No pressure. Just warmth, trust, and the promise of something more, waiting patiently in the space between them.

And though he hadn’t said the words, though he hadn’t revealed the depth of what he felt, Tim felt lighter than he had in a long time. Because sometimes, almost saying it… was enough.

The sun dipped lower outside, painting the room in golden light. Lucy yawned softly and stretched, still leaning against him.

“Come on,” she whispered, voice soft and teasing. “You’re going to fall asleep on me.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” he admitted, letting himself relax completely.

“Good,” she said, a playful grin tugging at her lips. “Because I’m not moving either.”

Tamara: That's gre-

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