Cruel Summer || A Chenford / The Rookie FanFic Collection

Cruel Summer

Chenford gets trapped in a sauna. This is their story. Post S4.
***

"Lucy — I cannot believe you forgot to —"

"Me?! I can't believe you let that guy just — You're so — Ugh, just ugh," Lucy huffs. How dare he try to pin this on her?

They glare at each other in a silent, angry standoff, neither willing to take ownership of their parts in the comedy of errors that had landed them here — stuck in a sauna just this side of uncomfortable for the foreseeable future.

"Well, I guess we better get comfortable and hope a cleaning crew comes by before tomorrow morning." And god, the aggravating sneer on his face, as if to say 'Are you happy now, Lucy?'

Lucy scowls. There's no way they can last until morning. She is already sweating in that very specific way — can feel individual droplets sliding down her skin.

But when it becomes clear that there really is no other option but to get comfortable, Lucy settles onto one of the sauna benches wondering just exactly how Tim had managed to get them into this mess.

***

Tim groans, dropping his face into his hands for only as long as it takes him to realize it's too goddamn hot to restrict the flow of oxygen to his lungs in any way, shape, or form. He lets his head fall back against the wall, turning his eyes up toward the ceiling.

She is the absolute last person he wants to be with right now. And it's been like this for weeks — as if summer in LA isn't misery enough. Ever since that goddamn kiss that turned out to be completely unnecessary.

Their bickering is at an all-time high — Lucy poking and prodding and pushing his buttons every chance she gets.

And he cannot, for the life of him, figure out why.

She has to feel it, too, right? She can't be immune or entirely oblivious to the almost tangible tension that has electrified the air around them ever since that goddamn kiss. Making it near impossible to get back to normal and do their jobs. Which is obviously exactly what they have to do.

And yet, she is hellbent on making it that much harder for things to go back to even resembling what they were between them. Before.

Sassing him at every turn.

Looking at him with those goddamn f*ck me eyes.

Tossing her hair in his direction on their walk to the garage after shift just to make sure he hasn't forgotten how goddamn good she smells after an entire day at her side.

Her goddamn fingers. Lingering. Always lingering. Where they have no business lingering. On his hand. On his forearm. On his elbow. She even had the audacity to full-on grab his bicep the other day to stop him from leaving roll call before a final announcement. On his knee. On his goddamn thigh when she leaned across him at lunch exactly two Tuesdays ago to steal exactly one French fry.

And that's just the half of it — the things that maybe could be explained away as Tim reading too much into them. But then there are the other things that he knows she is doing for no other reason than to taunt and provoke him.

First, there was her mentioning an upcoming wedding and casually asking his opinion on a dress — he hadn't even looked as he'd dismissed her, because what did he care what she wore to some random wedding? But a glimpse of a sky-high slit and plunging neckline on the screen of her phone had him suddenly feeling very opinionated as he pictured what something like that might look like on her...

Then, there was the day she'd brought along one of those dumb magazines with a quiz called What's Your Sex Personality? And suggested they take it together in the shop. His choking and coughing and tight-lipped answers in response to each question (and each of her very explicit answers) earned him a grade of borderline celibate. She, of course, turned out to be a sexual goddess.