Want You to Stay || Chenford / The Rookie

Part 3

Lucy jolts upright when she wakes the next morning, barely having the presence of mind to clutch the sheet over her bare chest as she takes in first the unfamiliar surroundings and then the all too familiar man sprawled out next to her.

Tim's upper body is fully exposed to her, her eyes automatically trailing over his pecs and his sculpted abs all the way down until settling on where the perfect V of his hips disappears under the sheet, despite the utter absurdity of the action in this moment.

Her head is spinning; she feels dizzy and nauseous in that way that is specifically intended as punishment for less than stellar life decisions the night prior.

What the hell? How the fuck did she end up naked in bed next to her former TO?

Her brain is still foggy, but flickers of memories from the night before begin to materialize.

A softness in his eyes. And then, a heat. Lips. The sweet, comforting warmth of his mouth against hers. And hands. Oh dear god, his hands. Cradling her face. Sliding up under her top. And later, adeptly working between her legs. Articles of clothing littering the floor. And then his entire body, flush against hers, moving with a rhythm and confidence that — oh dear god. What is she doing? Her body is responding all over again to just the idea.

Fuck. Fuck. This is Tim. Tim. Her boss, her mentor, her training officer. Not her drunken late-night fuck buddy.

Tim who, apparently, may not even be single.

She feels something that resembles panic rise up in her chest, as the certainty that absolutely nothing good can come from this washes over her.

Clothes. She needs to be less naked so she can think straight. She woefully pictures the trail of clothing they had left starting in the yard back through the house, both practically naked before they had even set foot in his bedroom, though Lucy is almost positive her panties are in here somewhere.

She swallows, weighing her options. She can take the sheet and risk waking Tim. Or she can make a run for it, collect her stray articles of clothing as stealthily as possible, and get the fuck out of here while praying that he doesn't actually remember what happened between them last night.

Steeling herself, she slips out of bed sans sheet, immediately bending to check under the bed for her panties.

"Lucy?" Tim's groggy voice reaches her ears just as she straightens, freezing like a deer caught in headlights, too mortified at first to even attempt to cover herself.

His eyes go wide in surprise at her naked form, fully on display in front of him, and then both of their gazes are following the movement as his dick becomes fully erect under only the cover of the thin sheet.

"Oh my god," Lucy gasps as Tim goes crimson. Finally jarred into motion, her arms go up to cover herself as she stammers, "Sorry, I-I'm just looking for my clothes."

She flees from the room without waiting for a response, deciding that underwear is a luxury she cannot afford right now.

She hears the sounds of Tim waking, the sound of the shower very briefly running – cold, if she had to guess – as she collects and yanks on her jeans and t-shirt from the night prior.

She spots her bra flung on the dining table, briefly distracted by the memory of him lifting her onto that very table, his reaching around her to undo the clasp and then his mouth — oh god his mouth — just as Tim emerges in only a pair of basketball shorts.

She hastily grabs the undergarment and stuffs it into her bag, before finally meeting his eyes. And his gaze is shockingly steady.

He is holding something out to her, and Lucy's face is flushing all over again when she recognizes the pale pink fabric of her panties.

She drops her gaze as she grabs them, futilely attempting not to mentally extend the brief touch of their fingers to all the other ways he had touched her the night prior. Abruptly yanking her hand back from his, she turns away from him to stuff the underwear into her purse next to the other critical piece of clothing she is currently not wearing.

His expression is concerned when she finally looks back up at him, "Lucy — I — look, can we talk? Are you okay?"

Lucy nods, even though, for once, she is the one that would rather be doing just about anything else other than talking.

"I'm fine," she finally manages, biting her lip as she tries to get her arms around the magnitude of what they've done — all of the lines they've crossed. And then there's that nagging concern that is suddenly back front and center in her mind. "Tim...what you said to Genny the other day — are you really seeing someone?"

He lifts his eyebrows in surprise, like it's not what he expected her to say at all. "I — yeah. Ashley, Jerry's daughter." His jaw tightens as he says it. "I asked her out a little over a month ago. After the treasure hunt."

Lucy's face falls, and for a second she feels like she might be sick. It's not like any affirmative answer to the question could have been good, but the idea that he's seeing someone she actually knows twists her gut with guilt. "I-I don't... Shit, Tim, I'm so sorry."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for, Lucy."

She lets out a sound that is halfway between a scoff and a strangled sigh. She tries to find something to say and ends up landing on a feeble, "She seemed really nice when I met her."

Now it's Tim who looks like he might be sick. "She is," he says quietly.

They stare at each other for a few moments, the weight of everything that has happened over the last 24 hours heavy in the air. Tim's expression is stoic and unreadable, a sharp contrast to the way he looked at her last night with such open, raw vulnerability. He clears his throat to speak, but suddenly Lucy feels like she needs to be the one to say it.

"Look, last night was a mistake, Tim. It shouldn't have happened. We were drinking and we were both upset." Lucy takes a deep breath, trying to keep her voice steady. "And I would never want to do anything to jeopardize your relationship. Or to mess up our working relationship. I'm your aide and —"

Tim nods slowly, brow crinkled in concern, "I could put in a request for a new aide —"

"NO. No. I don't want that. I think — this was just a one-time thing. Neither of us was thinking straight. We don't have to make it into more than it was. Can we just put it behind us?"

Lucy's gaze is pleading. Tim looks briefly conflicted — he opens his mouth, then closes it again. Finally, he simply says, "If that's what you want."

She nods slowly, hoping her expression isn't as deeply sad and disappointed as she suddenly feels, unable to process the wave of incongruous emotion she is feeling about every single bit of this. This is for the best, she reassures herself.

"Lucy..." Tim steps toward her, reaching for her, and she stumbles back out of his reach.

She chokes back the emotion rising in her throat. "I should go," she tosses over her shoulder as she whirls on her heel, not trusting herself to be here, with him, in his space for even a minute longer.