Work Text:
Tim takes her home.
His home, this time, which he expects her to protest – like she protested getting checked out by the EMTs, like she protested leaving her car at the station, like she protested asking Tamara to stay at a friend’s house. “This isn’t the way home,” she says, like clockwork, shoving his elbow gently from her spot in the passenger seat. Tim frowns over at her, but softly.
“This is the way to my home,” he chuckles, pulling to a stop at a red light and looking over at her. She’s got her feet pulled up beneath her on the seat, her sneakers kicked off onto the floorboards. Tim slides his hand over her knee and squeezes, letting his fingers linger on her leg. Lucy presses her lips together, her features still tense as she looks over at him. “Is that a problem?”
She shrugs. “I just didn’t realize we weren’t going home.” Her features stay tense and Tim readjusts his grip on the steering wheel, tightening his fingers around it and then letting them loosen up. “I wanted to...I was just,” her brain catches up and she shakes her head. “Your place is fine.”
“I have a bathtub, too,” he offers, knowing that’s what she planned on doing when she got back to her place. “Plus, the added benefit of a Kojo.”
Her eyes widen. “He’s home?”
Tim nods. Sure, there have been more nights than not in the last few months that Kojo had been living in luxury over at Genny’s, his nephews spoiling the dog rotten and sending him back whinier and bolder than Tim trained him to be – but he’s still Tim’s dog. “Yeah, he’s home – Genny dropped him off while you were fighting with the EMT.”
“I wasn’t fighting,” she huffs, exasperated. “I was...it doesn’t matter, because I’m fine.”
Tim squeezes her knee again, brushing his thumb along her leg as he raises his brow. “He called you slugger.”
“Yeah, and Bailey snapped at him for it.” Lucy slides her hand over his, brushing her fingers slowly over his knuckles. She swallows and he watches her relax, her shoulders dropping as she takes a slow breath. “You have some magic cure for what ails me at your house?”
He hums, considering, as he looks back to the traffic signal, the light turning green a few moments later. “I don’t know about magic,” he murmurs into the darkness of the cab, the lights of the city reflecting off his windshield. “But I’ll be there, and you’ll be there – so that’s a start.” He hears her swallow from the passenger seat. She pulls his hand up to her mouth, kissing his knuckles as he crosses over into the left lane. “That work for you, slugger?”
She scoffs against his hand and he knows she’s looking over at him, brushing his thumb lightly against her cheek as he waits for her to smile. It takes longer than he’d like, but he can feel it featherlight against his fingers.
It’s days like these that remind him how fucking lucky he is to be able to take her home at all.
Kojo’s waiting at the door for them, attentive but doe-eyed. Tim breathes a sigh of relief as he takes off his shoes, putting them on the rack while Lucy lets the dog take her down to the floor with the door still open behind her. Kojo snorts appreciatively as he hurls his full body weight onto Lucy, licking her face as his tail wags happily. “Hi, yes, hi, hey boy,” she laughs as Tim makes his way around them, shutting the door and deadbolting it. He resets the alarm, then crouches down in front of the two of them, raising his brows. She’s now sitting cross-legged, her shoes abandoned behind her, and Kojo glances over, nudging his nose against Tim’s outstretched hand before turning back to Lucy. “Oh, wow.”
“That’s messed up,” Tim laughs, scratching Kojo’s back. “You’re going to give me the nudge, buddy?”
“He’s a little preoccupied,” Lucy shrugs, pressing a kiss to the dog’s snout. “Aren’t you, my boy? C’mon, go say hi to your dad, he missed you too.”
He swallows down a knot in his throat as Kojo tentatively turns around, sitting down on Lucy’s foot as he looks up with big, attentive eyes. “Oh, there he is,” Tim chuckles, scratching behind the dog’s ears, his leg bouncing with excitement. “See what he does for me without even asking?”
“You’re the drill sergeant with the treats,” she pats Kojo’s back lightly, leaning in close as she draws in a slow, deep breath. “Of course he sits for you.”
He huffs, rolling his eyes over at her. “He respects his authority.”
“He respects steak and the industrial-sized package of bully sticks you have in the pantry,” she watches as Kojo’s head whips around at the mention of sticks and lets out a surprised little laugh, glancing up at Tim. “Whoops.”
Tim snorts, giving the dog one more scratch on the head before he points at her. “You did that on purpose.”
“No,” she pouts out her lower lip in a way he knows means she’s lying. “No, it was totally a mistake. Wasn’t it Kojo?”
He shakes his head as he makes his way toward the kitchen, surveying his fridge first. He’s been at Lucy’s more often than not lately, so it’s pretty bare-bones aside from a container he recognizes as one of Genny’s. It’s clearly something she bought for the boys' enjoyment, tiny vinyl soccer balls and flags printed along the sides of the large glass container, and he pulls it out of the fridge tentatively. Veggie Lasagna – Tyler Approved. Was frozen. Heat in OVEN @ 350° for 40 mins. Do NOT microwave Tim!, is written in Genny’s sprawling scrawl on a post-it stuck to the top of the container, and he can’t help but smile as he pops the lid off and turns on the oven to preheat, leaving the lasagna open on the stove.
He heads over to the pantry, rooting around for a bully stick – Lucy’s right about the industrial-sized package, but it had been a great deal at Costco and it wasn’t like Kojo was going to stop liking them. He grabs one and then fills two glasses of water, whistling for Kojo as he turns off the tap. Lucy follows the dog into the kitchen, wrapping her arms around Tim’s waist and pressing her head into his chest with a soft sigh. “What’s that,” she mumbles against his shirt, nodding her chin lazily towards the stove.
“Genny left food,” he presses a kiss to the top of her head, letting his face linger in her hair for a long moment. “Veggie lasagna. Apparently it’s Tyler-approved.”
“Oh, so you’ll like it,” she grins, burying her face in his chest as she laughs.
He presses the treat into Lucy’s hand, squeezing his fingers around her smaller ones for a long moment. “Make him earn it,” he murmurs, smiling as he hears her laugh.
Kojo does an elaborate sit, paw, speak combo, earning a kiss on the head and a bully stick to drag back to his bed by the sliding glass door. Once he’s sufficiently comfortable, chewing loudly on his treat, Lucy tips her face up and raises her brows at Tim, her eyes tired and vacant. “You okay?”
His throat tightens. He’s been better. “I’m fine,” he nods, running his hand slowly along her back. The oven beeps to signal that it’s reached 350° and he stirs a little. “You okay?”
Lucy chews on the inside of her cheek, avoiding looking directly into his eyes. She nods, shrugging. “Tired,” she offers, after a long moment. Tim hums, dropping his forehead down to press to hers. He hasn’t let go of her for more than a few minutes at a time since they got back to the station, and now that they’re home he’s not sure he’s going to want to for the rest of the night. “I need a shower.”
He nods. “Let’s shower,” he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. “Let me put this in the oven and set the timer. You want to go get it warmed up?”
She lets her body relax into his for a long moment, her weight pressed into him, her fingers curling into his shirt. “You taking care of me?” He thinks he imagined it for a moment, her whisper barely there, muffled into his shirt and hardly making it out of her mouth in the first place.
He hums softly in the affirmative. “You trying to stop me?”
Lucy considers for a moment, her grip tightening as she winds her fingers into the back of his shirt. “I’d allow it,” she breathes, tipping her face up and pressing her lips to his chin.
She untangles herself from him, her hand lingering against his chest for a few seconds before she pushes away and heads back towards his bedroom. Tim swallows the lump in his throat, because he knows this is normal, right now. He can still feel her skin against his own, the warmth of her body, the smell of her shampoo mixed with the antiseptic spray they’d washed the cut on her face with in the back of the ambulance.
Today had been hard. Yesterday had been harder. He’d felt her shaking last night, a nightmare racking through her body as she’d slept next to him safely in her bed. When she woke up out of it, she’d tried to discreetly brush tears off her cheeks. “I’m fine,” she breathed. “Promise.”
She hadn’t been fine then – she wasn’t fine now, either.
The longer they went without knowing about Aaron, without having any information about the people who were coming after them, the more eerily familiar it all felt. It was the thing they weren’t saying: that last time this happened, they lost someone. Last time this happened, it had taken everything in her to get back up again.
He could see it in her face, that she wasn’t sure she could do something like this again. As much as it’s the nature of the job, Tim understands the feeling. He’s not sure he can do something like this again, either.
So he’s doing everything he wanted to do for her, last time. Pulling her into his arms, pressing his face into her hair, not letting go unless he absolutely has to – because this time is different, in some ways. This time, he can be there for her.
This time, they have each other.
Tim slides the lasagna in the oven and sets the timer, then another on his phone so he’ll hear it if they’re still in the shower. He flips off the kitchen lights and double checks the doors, disarming and re-arming the security system once more for good measure before heading back toward his bedroom. His shirt’s off before he makes it through the door, the sound of the shower running casting a warm calm over him as he balls up his long sleeve and tosses it into the hamper.
He thinks ahead while he’s unbuckling his belt, grabbing Lucy’s favorite worn gray Army t-shirt of his and a pair of her shorts that’ve been stowed on a shelf in his closet. He kicks off his pants, dropping them in the hamper before heading into the bathroom and pulling the door shut behind him, a happy sigh escaping his lips as the steam engulfs him.
He smirks down at the pile of Lucy’s clothes on the ground, kicked into the corner, then sets down the t-shirt and shorts on the counter, watching as she slides the glass door open a crack. Her hair’s already wet and he bites on the inside of his cheek as he watches drops of water clinging to her eyelashes, her eyes stuck to his bruised bare chest for a long moment before they slide up to meet his gaze. “You going to watch, or you gonna join me?”
He doesn’t answer, just kicks his boxer briefs into her pile of clothes and pushes the door further open.
It hasn’t become their routine, per se – thankfully, there haven’t been too many days that feel rough enough to warrant it – but showering together has become one of the things he looks forward to when they’re both home together after hard shifts and awake enough to appreciate it. Tim steps into the spray, letting it wash over his face as he slides his arms around Lucy, pulling her into him. Her hair is wet and it sticks to his chest, her lips pressing lightly into his skin as she looks up at him from beneath her lashes. “Hi,” he murmurs, pushing her hair off her face, letting his fingers get tangled in the wet strands.
“Hi yourself,” she breathes, staring up at him with a soft, tentative smile. She leans up on her toes and he dips down to meet her, kissing her easily and fully, letting himself sink into it as she grips onto his arms.
He walks her back so she’s pressed against the tile wall and smiles as she tips her head up, her eyes scanning over his face as her fingers trail down his forearms. He leans down, humming softly as he feels her lean into him, her back arched as she settles against the wall, lets him press into her and hold her up.
There’s this way that Lucy relaxes her whole self around him that makes his heart race, that makes him know that she trusts him entirely. It’s a trust that’s so full, so implicit that it makes him want to cave in on himself some days. A trust that he’s pretty sure he’s never experienced before, one that’s all-encompassing and makes him feel like he’s melting when it’s on full display like this. He slips a hand into her hair, tangling his fingers into the wet strands and brushing his thumb along the base of her neck as he looks down at her, water and steam blurring his vision in a way that makes her look ethereal and perfect.
“What,” she whispers, and he can’t really hear the word over the rushing of the water, but he can see her lips moving, can see the hint of the quirk in her brow.
He smiles softly, letting his palm smooth over her cheek and his thumb trace along her jaw as he leans down to kiss her again.
It’s that he loves her, he knows, but now’s not the time for that.
Lucy stands up on her toes to reach him and he shakes his head, pressing her down and then scooping her up, his muscles achy and annoyed as he lifts her up. He smirks at the soft squeak she lets out, deeper in her throat , and groans as she scratches at the back of his neck, wrapping her slick legs around his waist as they come face to face. “Better?”
“Better,” she mumbles against his lips, then tips her head back and draws in a deep breath. “Fuck, I’ve needed you all day.”
“I know,” he trails his mouth down to her neck, nipping at the skin lightly as she laughs, the sound vibrating against him. “You were checking me out all morning.”
“I was not,” she huffs, digging her heel into the small of his back. Tim grumbles against her neck, scraping his teeth against her pulse gently. “I wasn’t,” she whines softly. “I was just looking at you.”
“Oh yeah?” He soothes his tongue over the spot he’d just scraped, his mouth following a droplet of water that’s sliding its way down to her collarbone. “Looking at me for what?”
Lucy digs her nails into his neck, scratching slowly in a way that tells him she doesn’t want to say anything about that here, but gives him all the information he needs. He presses himself against her, letting out a groan as she angles her hips down toward his, pulling him in closer with her legs.
He lifts his head and finds her mouth, parting her lips with his own and his tongue slipping into her mouth. He groans as she snakes her hand down and finds his cock, stroking it slowly and deliberately. He’d be embarrassed at how quickly he hardens in her hand if that wasn’t exactly what she wants, what they both want.
“Fuck,” he growls into her mouth, pulling back and biting down on her lower lip gently, his lips tugging into a smirk at the whine she lets out. Her hand grips him tighter, working in long, slow strokes as she rotates her wrist. Tim releases her lip, pressing a gentle kiss to her mouth, then leaning his face against hers as he tries to catch his breath.
“Mmhm,” Lucy laughs, breathless as well, brushing her thumb over his tip as he rocks his hips up into her hand.
“Not funny,” he mumbles, his mouth grazing along her chin. “You’re the least funny.”
“That’s not very nice, baby,” she flicks her tongue out over her lower lip and he feels it lightly against his skin, his throat tight as she squeezes his cock in a slow-building grip, teasing him. “I thought your plan was to take care of me tonight.”
He swallows hard, lifting his head and leaning in, his forehead dipping down and pressing to hers. He finds her eyes, nudging his nose against hers. “Oh, I’m planning on taking care of you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice low. “I’m already taking care of you, aren’t I?”
Lucy’s eyes light up for a long moment, sparkling and dark as she runs her tongue over his lower lip with a low hum, leading his cock in the direction of her entrance with a gentle press of her hips. “I think you could prove that,” she breathes. “Don’t you?”
Tim growls, his heart pounding as he moves them, shifting her higher against the shower wall and keeping her steady with his as he spreads her open, shifting his hips so he can tease her with the head of his cock. She whines, looking up at him with pleading, wide eyes. “You trust me?”
She bites down on her lower lip, her face softening. “Of course, Tim.”
He swallows, teasing at her slowly, his breath heavy as he slides his hand to grip her waist and angle her the way he wants her. “Then you know I’m going to keep taking care of you,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to her flushed, wet skin as he positions himself at her entrance, pressing his tip into her slick cunt but not letting himself go all the way. “As long as you’ll let me.”
“Don’t stop,” she finds his wrist with her fingers and he feels them practically trembling against him. “Please, baby. Please don’t stop, I,” she swallows hard and it nearly sounds like a gasp. “I need you, I need you tonight.”
Tim lets out a low groan, pushing into her and pulling her against him, finding her mouth as she moans loudly and kissing her slow, deep. He fills her, keeping his hips still as she writhes against him, clearly wanting more, clearly knowing she’s not going to get it just yet. “Just tonight?”
He doesn’t really mean to ask, but the words slip from his mouth and into hers, muffled and unclear, teeth and tongue as he pulls out of her slow, torturous, water from the shower head beating against his back as he feels her breath against his mouth. She whines, something that tears from her throat as her nails dig into his skin. She’s shaking against him and he presses back into her, slower still, giving and taking all at once.
“Every night,” she manages. “Every night, every day. All the time, baby,” she sounds frenzied, frantic. “It scares me, the way I want you.”
He finds her eyes, wild and dark but still telling the truth. He laughs, a soft, low chuckle as he nuzzles his face into her and rocks his hips, a slow rhythm he didn’t plan on building so soon. “It scares me too,” he whispers, nipping at her jaw, sliding his lips to her ear as she wraps her legs tighter around him and digs her nails into his back, pulling him close. He fucks into her slow, but at a steady enough pace that he knows they’re both working up, building, going somewhere. “It scares me that I don’t know what I’d do without you. I haven’t for a long time.”
His voice is low, full of breath and lacking depth. One of Lucy’s hands slides up the back of his head shakily and her nails scratch into his scalp, and he knows that means he’s meant to look at her. Still, he takes it slow, kissing a line down her jaw, pressing his lips to her neck, her chin, her mouth before finally glancing up at her eyes. She rolls her hips down against him, chasing him as he fucks into her and her cunt clenches around him, threating to keep him there, promising to hold him close.
Lucy holds his gaze, her eyes dark and brazen. “You don’t have to,” she breathes, her hand sliding around to his cheek, her thumb tracing shakily along his lower lip. He kisses it absently, snapping his hips into hers, feeling a moan reverberate through her as she tries to keep her wits about her and speak. Pleasure washes over her face and her teeth dig into her lower lip, her neck craning back as she lets out a loud moan.
Tim takes the opportunity to press his face against her neck, letting himself go a little. He fucks her harder, his hands pressing into her wet skin in a way that he’s sure will leave marks. She’s so fucking tight and warm and perfect around him, the way she always is but more, somehow, as her body trembles and her nails scratch and her brain tries to fight with the rest of her because he can tell she still wants to talk. He nips at her pulse, soothing his tongue over it before letting his lips brush her ear again. “Tell me, baby,” he murmurs against it. “Tell me what I don’t have to do.”
“You don’t have to,” she speaks through a moan, determined, her voice thick. He shifts his hips, his cock brushing over her spot as he moves faster still and she fists at his hair, her pitch higher as she moans out some semblance of his name.
“Breathe, sweetheart,” he murmurs, her body quaking against his. He manages to press a hand between them, circling her clit teasingly with his thumb. “Breathe and tell me.”
She swallows, then tugs his hand away from her clit forcefully, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment as she tries to steady herself. Tim keeps his pace up, but he doesn’t go faster. He lets out a low chuckle, grinning as she squeezes his wrist and takes a slow breath. “You don’t have to worry about being without me,” she murmurs, brushing her thumb along the side of his hand.
He keeps his eyes on hers and they both lock in, their gazes held as he searches hers, looking for something he doesn’t find. His heart beats hard in his chest as he keeps his hips moving, his fingers brushing against hers shakily.
There’s something more to this and he knows she can feel that. There’s something bigger, more weighty, and he feels Lucy’s unsteady hand in his own trying to grasp at it, too.
He leans down, molding his mouth over hers so he won’t tell her he loves her while his dick’s inside her, at the very least.
Lucy arches up into him, rocking her hips to meet his as he moves faster again, quickening his pace because he knows how badly they both need to feel this, how badly they both need to feel each other. There are going to be marks in her skin and scratches on his shoulders and he doesn’t fucking care because it’s just them, right now. They’re the only fucking thing that matters, and the feeling that this isn’t going anywhere has him moving at a breakneck pace, wanting to be certain that they’re on the same page this time.
“Fuck,” she bites out, her teeth sinking into his lower lip as her body arches further against him, her hips rolling, her chest heaving. “Fuck, there, there,” she jabs her thumb into his hand and he somehow understands, sliding his fingers back to her clit and working it as best he can as he keeps himself moving. “Close, baby, so fucking,” she lets the words die on a moan, sliding her hand up to his cheek and holding his head, her finger practically sinking into his ear as he presses his face into her cheek, groaning hard.
His cock twitches and he knows he’s closer, knows he wants her there first. He rolls her clit in the way he knows gets her nearly every fucking time and she tightens hard around him once, twice, harder still. “That’s it baby,” his voice is ragged even to his own ears and he hears her whimper, her cunt clenched around him, pulsing as he works her clit. “You going to come for me? You’ve wanted to all day, hmm? Come, Lucy.”
Lucy lets out a strangled moan, her head tipping back, her mouth staying agape as her hips roll against him and then still. Her body shakes as he feels her coming around him, and seconds later he’s spilling inside her, filling her, his own orgasm coursing through him as he lets out a low growl and lets his body weigh down against her.
They stay still, both breathing hard, Lucy’s fingers twining together behind his head as she presses her face into his hair. “I swear to god,” she mumbles, and he can’t help the smile that stretches over his features at the sound of her ragged, ruined voice. “I would’ve lost a bet if anyone had asked me if you were a talker.”
He hums, chuckling as he presses his lips to her neck. “Not true,” he mumbles, and she nods. “No way.”
“I would’ve thought you were that monosyllabic,” she whispers, carding her fingers through his wet hair. “You surprise me.”
“Present tense?” He lifts his head, catching her eye and raising his brow.
“All the time,” she leans in, kissing him lightly, lingering. “Every day.”
“Good,” he murmurs against her mouth.
It takes them a few long minutes to steady themselves, but once he can move again he turns off the shower and steps out, grabbing a towel and wrapping her up in it before securing his own around his waist. The timer on his phone says they still have some time, so he runs the hot water in the bathtub and Lucy lets out a happy sigh as she leans into him, her body relaxed. “You remembered.”
Tim slides his arm around her, turning her slightly so he can pull her into his chest. “Of course I did,” he rumbles, pressing his face into her wet hair. “Besides, you need it even more now.”
Lucy laughs, pressing a kiss to his chest before pushing off him. She drops the towel and heads towards his bathroom closet, sliding the door open and grabbing a bag of epsom salts. He grins, watching as she pours some into the tub and stirs them around with her hand before glancing over her shoulder. “Joining me?”
He snorts, pursing his lips. “You think I ran a bath just for you?”
She laughs, but then points at him. “No funny business, Tim Bradford,” she wags her finger, shaking her head. “This is a relaxation bath.”
Tim furrows his brow. “First of all,” he drops his own towel and heads over to her, rolling his eyes as she steps out of the way so he’ll be able to get into the tub first. “I’m offended that you think me fucking you into oblivion isn’t relaxing, and second,” he shoves at her shoulder lightly, then steps into the bath, “obviously I’m not going to try anything. Do you think I want to flood this bathroom? Please.”
He sinks down into the water as Lucy laughs, then holds out his hand so she can climb in with him, sitting down between his legs and pressing her back into his chest. He’s never been happier that he sprung for the detached bath when he was house-hunting, and the large one to boot. He hadn’t known how badly he was going to need it at the time, but it had felt like the right move. He slides his hands over her forearms, then locks them around her and presses his lips to the side of her head. Lucy hums, her body sinking back into him. “This is perfect,” she breathes.
He nods, letting his head rest against hers. “Nowhere else I’d rather be, you know?”
“Me either,” she murmurs, her fingers grazing lightly over his thigh. “I was worried about you today.”
He sighs. “I know you were.”
“You were worried about me today,” she offers, and he nods. “Do we ever stop feeling that? Or does it just get...easier? More normal?”
Tim bites on the inside of his cheek, letting out a slow breath. “Neither,” he decides, after a long few moments. “You just learn how to do it better, I think. You learn...how to not let it overtake you in the moment. It’s the after you have to worry about, most of the time. The adrenaline wears off and you have to take care of it,” he sighs, leaning his face down, pressing his lips to her shoulder.
She’s quiet for a long few moments, tracing a slow pattern over the top of the water with her fingertip. Tim’s pretty sure it’s a heart. “That why you wanted to take care of me tonight?”
He swallows, shrugging. “I always want to take care of you.”
Lucy doesn’t hesitate. “I always want to take care of you back.”
She leans her head back and he lifts his up, kissing her forehead softly. It feels bigger than it is, probably – but there’s a calm that he feels, an ease that he hasn’t in a while. The notion that it’s all going to be okay, really, truly.
Lucy squeezes his knee gently and he lets out a low hum. “Sounds like a plan to me,” he murmurs, and she laughs, leaning up to kiss the part of his chin she can reach.
“Tim and his plans,” she muses, shaking her head. She lets her body ease back into his, shifting against him and pressing her cheek against his chest.
His plans have gotten him this far, he figures, as he watches her close her eyes, feels her breathing slow. He’s got a naked Lucy Chen pressed up against him, tired and flushed and trusting him with her whole self. He’s got his home wrapped up in his arms, ready to let him keep her like this for as long as he can.
Tim’s plans, he thinks, can’t be all that bad at all.