Cruel Summer || A Chenford / The Rookie FanFic Collection

Cruel Summer

She'd arched an unimpressed eyebrow with a very judgmental sounding, "Hmm..." before putting the magazine away. He focused on not driving them into a goddamn wall.

The next week she'd shown up with another one about preferred foreplay techniques and sexual positions. That one had gone straight out the window.

And then yesterday, she'd flat-out insisted on stopping for a popsicle after lunch. A goddamn popsicle. What goddamn human over the age of nine even does that?

Why she would do this — why she would go out of her way to intentionally make both of their lives harder than they already are is entirely beyond him. He truly cannot fathom what is going on in that pretty, infuriating little head of hers.

They haven't even been in this sweaty hellhole for thirty minutes when Lucy groans a guttural sound of frustration and discomfort and whininess he's not sure he's ever heard from her. And he can never, ever hear that sound again — that's for goddamn sure.

"It's so hottt in here," she moans, writhing in discomfort as she shifts on the bench she's sprawled on across from him. And yeah, he's going to need her to just stop making any sounds at all. And to stop moving like that. Goddamn. What is wrong with this woman?

"I'm getting so hot, I wanna take my clothes off," she complains miserably as she sits up.

What the actual hell did she just say? Are there toxic fumes in this box of misery?

She lifts her fingers to the top of her uniform shirt and begins to undo the buttons.

"What are you doing?!" he snaps, and it sounds much more like an accusation than it does a question. Maybe even a tad bit hysterical.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" she snaps back, fingers not missing a beat until she has to get to her feet and remove her duty belt to pull the rest of her shirt out of her pants.

"What — You can't — We're on duty," he sputters insistently, if not a little incoherently.

"Are you really being serious right now? We are stuck in a billion-degree sauna in the billion-degree LA summer in a billion layers of clothing. Get a grip, Tim."

He works his jaw in agitation as she begins to unstrap her vest. And he is really going to need her to stop. Immediately.

And it doesn't even matter that he's not even seeing things he hasn't seen before — Lucy in her vest or undershirt. It's the way she's doing it all Lucy-like and... and... truly, what the hell is wrong with her?

She tosses her vest on top of where she's set her uniform shirt next to her belt, and when she begins to tug her undershirt up from where it's still tucked into her pants, he's had more than enough.

"Lucy," he barks in warning.

"Oh my god, Tim. Why are you being such a weirdo?

"What's the big deal? You'd see more of me at the pool or the beach."

"We don't go to the beach or the pool together, Chen," he grits out through clenched teeth.

She rolls her eyes. "Tim — we've worked together for literal years; you know insanely personal, embarrassing things about me."

Yeah, like an excruciatingly specific list of all of the places she's ever had sex thanks to that goddamn quiz.

Her eyes meet his, and he doesn't blink, intent on holding his ground. He cannot let this go any further. Absolutely cannot.

"Tell me the truth, Tim. Why is seeing me in a little less clothing than normal so uncomfortable for you?"

"I'm not uncomfortable," he grouses. What the hell kind of question is that? How can it possibly be getting even hotter?