Because Amazon told me yesterday morning that my Timeless DVD has shipped! *confetti* :D And now the USPS tells me that it's already waiting in my mailbox TODAY, a whole day early! *more confetti* :D

And because Lucy's POV wouldn't stop asking to be written.

Minimal editing again, sorry. Also possibly entirely nonsensical.

(I promise I'm still working on Timing. And another fic project. Pinky swear. But also work. For my job. Which I'm going to go do now… Until I can escape and go watch my shiny new DVD set!)

Lucy grimaces as she trudges up the stairs at Mason Industries. She'd almost been looking forward to following Emma to wherever it was that she'd jumped; anywhere has to be cooler than here. And as she climbs higher, she can already feel the oppressiveness of the air increasing. The air conditioning system here clearly isn't faring any better against the record-breaking heat than the sad little AC unit in her apartment is. While shooing her upstairs to wait, Agent Christopher had assured her that there is a fan in one of the rooms upstairs where Wyatt was already waiting. Delta Force or not, Lucy is resolved to fight him for that lone fan if he tries to hog it.

But just as she's in the midst of that thought, Rufus flies around the corner at the top of the stairs, fan in hand, and nearly bowls her over on his race down.

Her shoulders slump even further in resignation.

"Rufus," she calls after him. "Is that the fan Wyatt had?"

His affirmative reply rings echoes up the stairs. "If he bitches about it, tell him we needed it to help ventilate the computers."

Lucy smirks at the wording, but also has to wonder why Rufus couldn't have just told Wyatt that himself.

In any case, now she's well aware that she's facing an indefinite period of uncomfortably muggy limbo before they can jump anywhere, and sans fan at that. And because no one had bothered to let her know of the computer cooling issues on her way in, she'd reluctantly skipped stopping somewhere to get a cold drink in favor of arriving quickly. Fat lot of good that had done her.

So, knowing that the small refrigerator in the employee break room never has the ice cube trays filled, she reverses course on the stairs and heads for the infirmary. Thankfully, the nurse on duty is just as uncomfortable as she is, and willingly hands over a small plastic bag of ice from the machine they keep full in case of injuries.

Bag in hand, Lucy heads back towards the stairs; a quick glance in the direction of the lifeboat as she passes reveals a whole lot of still-frantic scientists. With a sigh, she continues further up the stairs.

There's a reason she's stayed in San Francisco for most of her life and, no, she tells the little voice in her head that sounds a lot like Amy, it isn't all because she's been trying to live up to their mother. The weather here is nice. It never gets too hot.

Except today. And yesterday.

What she wouldn't give to be back in the winter of that year she'd spent in Chicago for a post-doc. Lucy so prefers the cozy sweaters and scarves of sub-freezing temperatures to the practically indecent outfit that she'd been forced to throw on today. It wasn't-

Her train of thought comes to a screeching halt when she rounds the corner to the doorway of the waiting room.

Well, she supposes that would be why Rufus hadn't told him about the fan himself.

Either asleep or something close to it, Wyatt is slumped down in the exact same chair he was in that first, fateful night when they'd both been dragged here. And he's doing that thing that guys always seem to do, that reaching up under their shirt to scratch or rub at their stomach or chest or whatever, and it's pushing up the hem of his t-shirt, putting the defined lines of his muscles on full display, along with a peek of boxers above the waist of his khaki cargo shorts.

Lucy has to swallow hard. It's not as if she hasn't seen him in even less, all the way back to helping him remove his shirt after getting shot in 1865. But it's different, this, the casualness of it all, now back in their own time. Normally, he's not only in long pants and long sleeves, but multiple layers of long sleeves. And a jacket.

He shifts in his sleep and the shirt falls back into place, paradoxically to both Lucy's chagrin and relief. Though it does give her the opportunity to let her gaze rake over the rest of him – the strong biceps and forearms extending from the short sleeves of the t-shirt, the toned calves exposed by the shorts she'd never seen him wear before, his feet bare aside from the leather flipflops– Lucy shakes her head at that as she forces herself to actually head into the room; not that she has a foot fetish or anything, but seriously? Even his feet are perfect? Of course he's attractive, but her feelings for him run significantly deeper than that these days. Still, the sight of him like that in the chair… She's not dead. If she were a little more bold (ok, a lot more bold), like Amy maybe, a little more sure of where he was regarding those once-mentioned possibilities, a little more sure of herself, she might be tempted to follow through on the urge she's currently feeling to just crawl onto his lap and push that t-shirt up herself, among other things.

But she can't do that. She's not that bold and she's really not that sure of where he stands on those possibilities.

She actually contemplates just removing herself from the temptation entirely by relocating to a conference room instead, but both Christopher and Rufus are both expecting her to be in the same place as Wyatt, and it's too hot for her brain to come up with any sort of plausible explanation for ending up in a different room. She doesn't think 'because he looks too good' is something she's willing to offer up as an excuse.

So she reluctantly creeps over to the couch across from him. Maybe he has the right idea – sleeping might help take her mind off both the uncomfortable weather and the sight of him.

Lowering herself gingerly to sit on the couch, she can't help but smirk at the sticky feel of the leather on the back of her thighs. She doubts it will, but it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if her warm-weather wear has even half the effect on him as his does on her. So she lies down, resting the ice on her collarbone, and if she happens to nudge up the fabric of her tank top to reveal her stomach, mimicking the state of his shirt when she'd walked in, so be it.

She manages to doze for a little while, but is pulled from her sleepy daze by a sudden groan, followed by an uncharacteristically whiny "Rufus, where'd the fan go?" from Wyatt's side of the room.

"They needed it downstairs," she informs him, suppressing a smile even as she keeps her eyes closed in an attempt to ward off the reality of what seems to be even higher temperatures than when she'd fallen asleep. "To try and help keep the computers cool," she adds.

He doesn't reply, but honestly, it really is hotter and it's miserable, so she kind of doesn't care if Wyatt heard her or not. Her ice is on its last legs, which means she's going to have to move at some point soon if she wants more and she really doesn't feel like moving.

Curiously, Wyatt does cough and thank her a few minutes later, which strikes Lucy as a little strange, but right about the same time, there's a noise in the direction of the door.

Reluctantly opening her eyes, Lucy sees Rufus hovering in the doorway. "Mothership's back in the present," he declares. "We're off the hook."

Lucy winces, her body tensing automatically at the thought of what havoc Emma might have wreaked without them being able to chase her and at least try to mitigate the situation. "Ugh," she groans. "What did she do that we now don't even know about?" But even the slight movement reminds her that the heat has her stuck fast to the leather of the couch and everything is disgusting and it's just plain miserable. "You know what?" she amends, letting her limbs go slack again and re-adjusting the ice on her chest, "I don't even care. It's too hot."

Wyatt echoes her complaint with a grumbled "Seriously", but before she can look over at him to commiserate, she's struck with a brilliant thought, if she does say so herself.

Already feeling a little invigorated by the prospect of her idea possibly working out, she stretches, working out the tight kinks that the too-short couch has left her with, then sets her sights on Rufus, still in the doorway.

She grins widely at him. "Rufus?" she asks innocently.

He chuckles in Wyatt's direction for some reason as he responds, "Uh huh?"

Curious, Lucy steals a peek at Wyatt, but nothing jumps out at her as out of the ordinary, so she re-focuses on Rufus.

"What are the odds we can take the lifeboat on a little unplanned excursion?" she suggests, that frigid winter she'd spent in Chicago taunting her from her memory. "Like maybe the first successful expedition to the South Pole? Klondike Gold Rush?" But the more she hears herself, the more she knows what Rufus is going to say. But that doesn't stop her from deteriorating into a pleading whine, not all that different from Wyatt's tone earlier. "Anywhere cold? Please?"

He just laughs at her and snarks, "Sure, let's go hang with the Donner Party. I hear they were super fun."

Of course he picks that to throw back in her face, so she has to narrow her eyes at him. And of course Wyatt apparently finds her misery amusing, he laughs at her. She glares at him too; looking good in shorts and a t-shirt doesn't get him out of that. At least she must look vaguely menacing, because neither one of them say anything else.

Knowing it's futile, Lucy still takes advantage of the pause in conversation to relay one final plea. "Somewhere cold?" she begs. "Anywhere?"

With a shrug, Rufus shakes his head. "No can do, sorry. The heat still has some of the CPUs on the fritz," he explains apologetically.

Lucy squeezes her eyes shut with a whimpered sigh. So much for that bright idea. Now she's going to have to actually move. And go home. Or something. If she could muster up the energy. Not that the temperature would be any better there. Though at least Wyatt won't be there, looking all too tempting in his casual clothes.

Rufus pipes up again then, as if he knows where her mind had gone. Not the Wyatt part, thankfully, the home part. "Why don't you just go home?" he asks, sounding confused. "You have AC."

"Barely," she scowls, finally giving in and moving to sit. The bag of melted ice slips of her chest and she's a little horrified to see that she'd gone a little too far in her ill-advised attempt to tease Wyatt with some bare skin; she'd gone and exposed her actual bra to both of her work partners, the same bra that she hadn't even bothered to properly match to the shirt as she'd hurried out of her apartment. She nudges the fabric back into place over her stomach, hoping that she's not blushing too obviously as she elaborates about her air conditioning. "I practically had to sit on it yesterday to feel anything."

Of course that just brings to mind the fleeting impulse she'd had earlier to sit on Wyatt, and she feels her cheeks grow even hotter. These things are why she should never bother with trying to flirt, or even bother letting herself think about Wyatt in that context; she's horrible at this sort of thing.

Thankfully, he doesn't seem to notice that anything is amiss with her and actually backs up her assertion about her miserably ineffective air conditioning. "My place is the same, man," he echoes to Rufus.

Rufus eyes them both sympathetically and shrugs. "My mom's place has good AC," he informs them. "And a pool. Jiya and I are going to head over. You guys are welcome to come too. We can barbecue if someone can stand the grill long enough to cook stuff. Might have to deal with my brother and bunch of other high school seniors, but if your places are that bad-"

Lucy doesn't even let him get the whole invitation out before she's on her feet, blurting out her acceptance. "I'm in," she declares, the temptation of a pool overriding any other thoughts aside fromensuring that she gets her foot back in the flipflop that had fallen off at some point during her nap.

She's halfway out the door behind Rufus before she realizes the error of her ways. Though Wyatt hasn't made a move to follow them yet, Rufus has invited both of them. Which means more of Wyatt. Or more precisely, more of Wyatt not covered by clothing, if he actually plans on swimming too. Taking a shaky breath, Lucy forces herself to turn back to face him and ask politely, "You coming?"

She half hopes he'll say no, but he's nodding in the affirmative pretty quickly, and Lucy's stomach is in knots before the four of them even make it to the parking lot. At least it's established that her place is on the way, but Wyatt's is not, so she doesn't have to figure out a reason to try and get out of sharing a ride.

It's kind of been torture, these last few months. Not the time travel missions – ok, well, yes, they're their own brand of torture for her; she's still not used to having to be anything but the relay-er of historical facts at the front of the classroom full of bored freshmen. But at least on the missions, there's something else to focus on. Emma, Rittenhouse, her mother, something. Something that's not Wyatt and that conversation about possibilities that hasn't been brought up since.

But when they have down time like this? When, if you squint hard enough, the three of them and Jiya could almost be mistaken for a regular group of friends and not government consultants racing through time to try and take down a historical conspiracy? It's hard. It's hard to have these feelings and have no idea where he stands. She could have sworn he'd been about to kiss her in the hallway that day, but they'd been interrupted and everything had gone crazy, and the longer it goes since then, the more she's able to convince herself that it was just a figment of her overactive imagination, that he's still in love with Jessica, and why would he ever be interested in his know-it-all co-worker anyway? But then there are still those little moments, every once in a while, where he says something, or does something, or just looks at her, and then she's wondering all over again if maybe there is something there. For him. For her, well, she knows there's something. The worst part is that she knows exactly what she could, should, might even would be doing to figure it all out if she still had Amy there to talk her out of her own head. She needs to just talk to Wyatt, confront him about… everything. And Lucy well knows that her impulsive little sister would have been pushing her to do exactly that. But Amy isn't there, now is she?

Lucy pulls up to her apartment, still unsettled about the prospect of the afternoon facing her. A few minutes later, as much as she misses Amy in the big picture, she's smiling at the fact that, right now, she's a little bit glad that Amy's not around. Faced with choosing a swimsuit to put on, she's well aware that, if Amy were there and armed with the knowledge that Wyatt would be around to see whatever suit she ends up in, she'd be raiding her own wardrobe for the skimpiest, smallest, stringiest barely-there scrap of a bikini to lend to Lucy. Lending, with Lucy trying to refuse, because even in the best of situations, she's never really been comfortable in so little. Leftover insecurities from being the too-skinny, pasty-white, flat-chested-for-too-long, straight-A nerd, she knows. But that doesn't mean she's still not more at home in the one-piece suits she wears when she's in a particularly motivated phase and goes to swim laps in the university fitness center than she is in the couple of more modest two-piece suits she does own even in Amy's absence.

She bites her lip and studies her options. And maybe the heat has fried her brain a little because, before she can talk herself out of it, she grabs the striped two-piece that may or may not have a blue in it that looks the same shade as a certain someone's eyes and pulls it on. It's a little easier to not doubt that decision once she's thrown a summery dress on over it. She sticks a towel, sunscreen, and sunglasses in a bag and hurries back out to her car; whatever she feels for Wyatt, and whatever he does or doesn't feel for her, and whatever he'll think of her swimsuit choice, it doesn't really matter at this point. It's still beastly hot and there's still a pool waiting for her at Rufus'.

The Carlins don't actually live all that far from her, so she arrives relatively quickly. Rufus introduces her to his brother and mom, who immediately refuses her offer to help in the kitchen and sends her out to the patio to join Jiya.

Jiya's just finishing applying sunblock, so she greets Lucy with a smile and asks her to get the places on her back that she can't reach. Lucy obliges, then pulls off her dress to do the same. Once she's got herself mostly covered, she asks Jiya to return the favor, only to have her younger friend grin wickedly.

"Sure you don't want to wait for Wyatt to get here?" she teases, even as she takes Lucy's proffered sunscreen tube. Lucy flushes, turning away from Jiya in an attempt to both hide that fact and to silently respond to the question with a resounding no. She's known since their conversation back in the dressing area when Rufus and Wyatt were off running around in 1983 that Jiya might have a hunch about her feelings for Wyatt. Mercifully, though she reminds Lucy at times of Amy, she's proven to be far more subtle and discreet about pushing the issue than Lucy knows Amy would have been. So instead of another comment, Jiya just goes about covering Lucy's back with the sunscreen.

She's nearly done when Wyatt emerges from the house onto the patio. Lucy must be staring as he sets his things down then follows their lead and pulls off his shirt and takes out his own bottle of sunblock, because Jiya leans over her shoulder as she finishes, hissing "Not too late," in her ear. "Go get his back," she urges.

"Oh, no, I ca-" Lucy starts to protest quietly, but Jiya strategically gets up from the rickety lounge chair right at that moment, forcing Lucy to jump to her feet as well to avoid the whole thing flipping over on her.

"Go," Jiya repeats, giving her a small shove before disappearing into the house.

At a loss, Lucy looks around helplessly. On one hand, she can go the cowardly route and duck into the house after Jiya. On the other, she's already gone out on a limb and worn the two-piece, maybe she should just do it. What's the worst that can happen? Wyatt is almost always, if nothing else, unfailingly polite and gentlemanly to her, at least when they're not fighting about the journal or under some other insane stress in the past. So at worst, even if he isn't inclined to those possibilities, she'll put a little sunscreen on his back, probably get her own heart racing from touching him, and then they'd go back to the status quo. And he won't get sunburned.

So she makes her way across the patio and forces herself to squeak out, "Need help reaching your back?"

He just stares up at her for a second, and Lucy's immediately kicking herself for not following Jiya inside instead, but then he's nodding and suddenly she's sitting next to him and his sunscreen bottle is in her hand and she's faced with his broad, smooth back in front of her.

She numbly squeezes some sunscreen into her hand; she's pretty sure that for everything they've been through, the only time they've really touched skin to skin aside from hands was in Arkansas, elbows fighting for space in the tiny twin bed. This feels far more deliberate than that and she's not quite sure what to do with that knowledge. But he's still waiting for the sunscreen, so it's not like she has any option at this point other than to just do it.

So she rubs her hands to disperse the lotion a bit and then tentatively reaches out to lay her hands on his back. She feels him jump, and hopes it's just the chill of the sunblock and not that he's viscerally uncomfortable with her. But then she's rubbing the lotion further, and she's really wishing that there could be some other circumstance in which she got to run her hands over him like this.

She's done all too soon, but it's just as well because a little part of her brain was starting to try to convince her that wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning her head on his shoulder from behind would be a good idea.

It would not be, which she well knows, so she hops up from the seat and heads for the pool; hopefully the cold water would knock some sense into her.

Except it's really cold. She tests it with her foot at the stairs, wondering how Jiya can possibly have just jumped straight in. It's still roughly a thousand degrees outside, but that doesn't mean she's quite ready for the shock to her system that the water will be.

She's still stalling when Wyatt approaches, a knowing smirk on his face.

"It's cold," she says defensively, knowing how pathetic she sounds.

And of course he laughs at her expense. "You were the one all ready to go to Antarctica."

Lucy scoffs, rolling her eyes a little to try to cover the blush she feels rising again in her cheeks at the now more obvious sight of him in just a swimsuit. Over on the patio, he'd been sitting. Now he was out in the sun, on full display. "Yeah," she protests, trying to come up with something coherent to say, "and I would have had a snowsuit on. And boots."

She's absolutely gobsmacked a minute later when, out of nowhere, Wyatt is literally (and figuratively, she thinks to herself) sweeping her off her feet. A little yelp escapes her mouth involuntarily, but really, her heart is practically thumping out of her chest at the feel of his arms, hands, and chest touching her in all sorts of places that would normally not be exposed as bare skin.

It registers too late what his intentions actually are, given that his touch is so distracting. She lets out a squeal and can't help but laugh when she feels him launch her into the air at the deep end of the pool.

The cold is such a shock that it practically steals her breath, and she's spluttering when she resurfaces to find all eyes on her, everyone laughing at her expense. She plays along, gamely warning Wyatt, "You're gonna pay for that," as she wipes stray wet hairs back towards her hair clip. But really, the only thing she's really disappointed about is the fact that she doesn't have his arms around her anymore. And well, if his touch, not to mention the near-massage that the sunscreen application had turned out to be, had maybe gotten her body to react more than she'd have liked it to, at least now she has the excuse of the freezing cold water for anything that might be noticeable in her swimsuit top.

A laugh bubbles out of her a moment later when Rufus shoves Wyatt into the pool after her, and then cannonballs in too.

They still have the pool to themselves until Kevin's friends show up in a little while, so Rufus persuades them all to play a silly game of Marco Polo, splashing around like little kids. At first, when she's the one hunting for people, she purposely goes for Rufus and Jiya, trying to ignore the pull of Wyatt's voice as she wades around with her eyes closed. Not that he ends up going after her either, but he's also apparently skilled enough that he rarely ends up the one doing the chasing anyway. Which is fine, but she finds herself missing that physical contact with him, and if he's not ever 'it', he's not going to be chasing her. So the next time she finds herself with her eyes closed and swimming after the other three, she lets herself zero in on Wyatt's calls of 'Polo'.

Given his already established dodging skills, she's surprised to find herself within striking distance almost immediately, and then all of a sudden, she's got her arms around his neck and his hands are skimming her waist.

For half a second, he's looking up at her just so, and Lucy can almost convince herself that he's about to kiss her, but he's not, especially with Rufus and Jiya there, so she forces a smile and informs him in as playful a tone as she can muster that he's it.

The draw of the game begins to dwindle not long after, and at some point, with Rufus halfheartedly chasing down Wyatt, Jiya swims up to her and whispers her idea for what they could do next: a game of chicken. Lucy demurs immediately; if rubbing sunscreen on Wyatt's back was already a big mental leap, she can't possibly wrap her mind around the notion of wrapping her legs around his neck. (Not that she hadn't imagined that once or twice… or more… in another sense. But she's hardly about to admit that to Jiya.)

Her protests apparently have little effect, for, not a minute later, Rufus is ducking under the water and resurfacing with Jiya sitting on his shoulders. Lucy can't see Wyatt's face, but she herself is most definitely on the receiving end of a harsh glare from Jiya, who nods in Wyatt's direction in the midst of said glare.

Lucy sighs, resigned. If she doesn't go along with it, Jiya's just going to call her out on it (one of the less appealing ways in which she reminds her of Amy), and that's just going to call Wyatt's attention to her discomfort, which will just increase that discomfort exponentially. So she takes a deep breath and reaches for Wyatt's shoulder, hauling herself up as best she can.

As best she can turns out to mean nearly giving him a concussion with her knee a couple times, but eventually, she's up, her posture mirroring Jiya's. She's ever so grateful when Rufus and Jiya launch themselves at her almost immediately, because if she had any more time to dwell on the pressure the position is putting on certain regions between her legs, she might spontaneously combust. She may have imagined straddling Wyatt before, but this was most certainly not what she'd had in mind. And that's not even accounting for the feel of his legs gripping her thighs to keep her upright.

So she focuses on taking Jiya down, in part using the fact that she'd initiated this stupid game as motivation to knock her off Rufus' shoulders. She manages to succeed twice in a row, and is on her way to a third win when something goes wrong and all four of them end up tumbling into the water awkwardly. Rufus ends up getting knocked in the face by someone on the way down, and he disappears into the house with Jiya to get ice.

Faced just Wyatt for the first time in a while, Lucy tries to ignore the fact that she'd just had his head between her legs and resorts to cheekily asking about the game. "Does that mean we won?" she quips, treading water beside him. She starts to force even more of a joke to try and avoid any awkward lull in the conversation, but some kid, once of Kevin's friends, presumably, decides to take a flying leap into the pool way too close to where she and Wyatt are. She tugs on Wyatt's arm rather forcefully, getting him just out of the way just in time. He looks bewildered at first until the kid apologizes and then shrugs it off.

"I think we're officially being invaded by teenagers," Lucy observes, taking in the sight of a smattering of other kids following suit and jumping into the pool after the first kid.

"You wanna get out?" Wyatt offers, nodding in the direction of the seats on the patio.

To be fair, no, Lucy doesn't really want to hang around a bunch of rowdy teenage boys. But she does still have some adrenaline from the physical contact with Wyatt still racing through her veins and she's reluctant to give him the opportunity to disappear into the house away from her or something. She spots the stairs where she initially tried to get into the pool and nods at him for her to follow her.

"We can just sit here," she says once they reach the steps. "It's too hot to get out." Which it is. It's just not the actual ulterior motive she'd had when she suggested coming over.

"Says the woman who would barely put one foot in," he teases, even as he goes along with her suggestion and takes a seat.

Lucy smiles reflexively in response, and can't help but notice that he's making room for her next to him.

She takes a deep breath. She'd just been straddling his shoulders. And he hadn't run screaming. Or anything else that might indicate an adverse reaction. So maybe could push a little harder.

So rather than taking a seat, she just sort of lets herself float in front of him, partially between his knees, and anchors herself to the spot by wrapping her arm around one of those knees. He doesn't shy away from that either, so she relaxes a little. Until he rests his hands on her arm and back and steals her breath for a minute.

She forces herself to breathe deeply and calm down, even going so far as to let her eyes close and just take in the feel of being so casually close to him, nearly dozing off.

Until the knee she's wrapped around slips from under her and she inadvertently gets a mouthful of water when she's jostled by the movement. She looks up, ready to chastise him, maybe exaggerate that he'd almost let her drown. But just as she's just been overtaken by a surge of water to the face, she's overtaken by a surge of affection; the slip of his knee wasn't intentional, he's asleep. Adorably asleep with his chin to his chest.

And his other leg has also clearly slid down a step too, so her previous strategy of latching onto his leg isn't possible anymore. Plus, if his legs slipping is any indication, the fact that he's truly asleep means he might actually loft up off the step he's sitting on and float.

Impulsively, she solves both of their problems and positions herself sideways on his lap, wrapping her arms around his waist to grip the step behind them and hold them in place. He doesn't stir, so she sucks in a stabilizing breath and tentatively rests her head on his chest. She does close her eyes, but this time she doesn't let herself come even close to falling asleep; if this is as close as she ever gets, she's going to want to remember every single second of it.

Eventually, Lucy hears Jiya approach and feels Wyatt shift when she informs him about food being almost ready.

The soft voice he uses when he nudges her to wake her sends a shiver up her spine, but there's no point in feigning sleep when she's wide awake.

"I heard," she admits, sitting up. "I just didn't want to move," she adds, surprised by her own bold honesty. If he's also surprised, he doesn't show it, the only thing clear on his face a red tinge from where the sun was starting to take its toll. She actually isn't sure if he'd even put any on there; she'd only done his back. "But you are looking a little red," she points out. "You should put on more sunscreen."

As much as he might need that sunscreen, she is still reluctant to move, but it has to happen, so she lets herself drift off his lap. He does that charming thing he always does and offers his hand to help her up the steps and out of the pool, though he lets go as soon as she's on dry ground.

Once they're on the patio, she really does want to make sure he's not burning his face too badly, so she partially covers up in her towel and heads over to him. He lets her put the sunscreen on his face, and it takes a whole lot of restraint on her part not to give in and just plant a kiss on him when his eyes are closed and his face is that close and vulnerable to hers. But she doesn't, and she makes it through another round of putting the sunblock on his back. But then he points out that she needs it too, and while she's just had her hands all over him again, she's not even close to mentally prepared for having his hands all over her.

She doesn't think she breathes the entire time he's applying the sunscreen to her back; at the very least, she certainly isn't breathing when his fingers slip beneath the straps of her top and then flirt with the waistband at her lower back.

Lucy is breathing, practically hyperventilating, when she realizes that when he finally lifts his hands from her back, she literally whimpers involuntarily. Which is mortifying. So while he busies himself with the rest of his sunblock, she darts into the house to the bathroom. What is she doing? Can she blame heat stroke for the erratic behavior that is so unlike her? She doesn't throw herself at men, she doesn't climb on their laps, she doesn't let herself get carried away by what should be just a platonic touch.

She calms herself down by reminding herself that Wyatt hasn't actually protested anything she's done, but she still feels that maybe a little distance would be best. So, though she exits the bathroom after splashing a little water on her face, she lingers in the kitchen, picking at the food still inside rather than going back out to the feasting crowd on the patio.

Unfortunately, she only has a little while to herself before Jiya comes in, needing a respite from manning the hot grill, followed soon after by Rufus' mom, who asks the two of them to help her carry out a few boxes of popsicles to round out the barbecue.

Given her hospitality in having the whole lot of both her sons' friends over on such a miserably hot day, Lucy isn't about to say no to her, so she's quickly obediently grabbing a few boxes from the freezer and heading back out to the patio. The mob of teenagers make quick work of most of the treats, but there are a few stray popsicles still left among the carnage of the boxes, so rather than let them melt and go to waste, she and Jiya both grab one. But Lucy's barely tasted the thing before Jiya's elbowing her in the ribs.

"Bet Wyatt wouldn't mind watching you with that," she whispers suggestively, laughing aloud as she leaves Lucy to head over to Rufus. Lucy's eyes widen at the insinuation, and she's blushing furiously as she pulls the popsicle from her mouth. But a furtive glance in Wyatt's direction reveals that he isn't watching anyway; his back is turned, and though she wishes she isn't, she finds herself a little disappointed that Jiya's assertion is apparently wrong. She can't bring herself to finish the popsicle after that, so she abandons it on a used plate sitting on the table.

At a loss for what else to do, she curls up alone on the wicker couch on the patio for a while; it's Rufus that finally coaxes her into moving again, offering a beer and nodding in the direction of the pool. She joins him, along with the other two, though she makes sure to keep Wyatt at arm's length or more this time around. She succeeds in doing so, to the point that somewhere in their aimless conversation over beers, he disappears without her really noticing. At the same time, it appears that the little bit of alcohol was enough to fuel an escalated level of PDA between Rufus and Jiya. Lucy has zero desire to be third wheel, so she leaves the two of them to their own devices, instead paddling back over to where she'd sat with (on) Wyatt earlier.

She mostly tries to leave them be, focusing instead on watching Kevin and his friends, wondering how on Earth they could possibly think it's a good idea to run around playing volleyball or lighting a bonfire when, even as the sun is now setting, it's still ninety-plus degrees out. But she's not entirely successful in avoiding watching her friends, now alone in their own little world at the edge of the pool.

She's happy for them, she is. She knows Rufus well enough now to know that he hadn't had the best history with successful relationships, so she's glad for him. And Jiya is great, and so lucky to have a guy like Rufus. But seeing the two of them together never fails to elicit at least a dull pang in her chest, and sometimes, kind of like now, a more fiercely jealous ache. She wants that, and she wants everything that goes along with it, from the shallow stuff like holding hands and kissing in the pool and sex to the deeper closeness to the kids she'd told him and Wyatt that she was supposed to be able to read history books to. As she'd told them back in 1750-whatver (it's getting to the point where they've jumped so many times that she's starting to lose track of all the specifics of their missions), she'd always figured there was time, that she'd just inevitably meet someone along the way in grad school, or during her postdoc, or in her cohort of new hires when she'd gotten the tenure-track position on campus. But despite attempts at relationships here and there, none had really come to fruition.

And now? Now she's caught up in everything she's feeling for Wyatt that he theoretically might, but doesn't really seem to, return, to the point that even if a veritable Prince Charming rolled up and started pursuing her tomorrow, it'll still probably be a while before she's emotionally ready for anyone that's not Wyatt.

Amy's voice is back in her head as she sits and steals another wistful glimpse at Rufus and Jiya. She needs to just bite the bullet and go for it, either make a move or talk to him, something. So that at least if he's not interested, she'll finally know for sure and can actually focus her efforts on moving on, instead of this silly, embarrassing limbo of trying to awkwardly flirt and then having to guess if he's just being polite.

Maybe tonight. It's clearly been on her mind all day, she's just had a beer, maybe it's time to just do something.

But, because it's what she does, she's already wavered back to the 'maybe not' side of her internal debate by the time Wyatt reappears from wherever he'd gone and walks up to her with her towel and promises of s'mores.

She can't turn that down, and is maybe, kind of, feeling a little hopeful when she feels his arm around her waist as they head back toward the fire.

She's significantly less hopeful when she proves herself to be an inept idiot that can't even handle a simple task like roasting a marshmallow when she drops one and then nearly lights the whole yard on fire by flinging another one that she's managed to incinerate. Wyatt sounds exasperated with her as he works to calm her down and not panic over the burning marshmallow. She slinks away, not really feeling up for any more of a display of her own incompetence; no wonder she's terrible at trying to flirt, she can't even manage a skill that most kids learn when they're six years old at summer camp.

At least Wyatt doesn't seem annoyed when he approaches the patio a few minutes later bearing a skewer with multiple perfectly toasted marshmallows. Because of course that's part of his skill set on top of everything else.

Though she feels a little better when he drops one too. Just as he's sitting next to her, the one on the end of the skewer proves a little too gooey. Of course, because he's him, he manages to catch it, but it just leaves him with the sugary mess perched between his fingertips rather than on the floor. Lucy can see him scanning the tables nearby for something to cleanup with, even going so far as to start to elicit her help. "Lucy," he asks, "do you see any napk-"

She's not sure where the impulse comes from; for once, it's not even Amy's incessant little voice in the back of her mind, or even Jiya's. It just… seems like a reasonable idea at the time. And maybe she's still a little stung, that even for Jiya's insinuation earlier, Wyatt hadn't seen her with the inherently suggestive popsicle, or worse, had, but hadn't thought anything of it because it was her. But this time, she forces the issue, because, before she's really able to process that she's going to do it, she's grabbing at his wrist to steady it and then literally eating the marshmallow off his fingers. And because it's messy and her cover for the whole thing is ostensibly to be a stand-in for a napkin that would be cleaning those fingers, and also because maybe her hormones are getting the better of her at the moment, she takes it a little further, specifically running her tongue over his thumb and then sucking the sticky sugar goo from his index finger. A little shiver runs up her spine as she does, but bold as the overall action may be, she's still not quite daring enough to look up at Wyatt to gauge his reaction and see if she's having a similar effect on him.

Reality kicks back in when his finger is marshmallow-free and suddenly Lucy has no idea what she'd been thinking, because Wyatt hasn't made any sort of indication that what she'd done was in any way favorable. She leans back in her seat, deftly grabbing another marshmallow to shove in her mouth lest she start to apologize and make the whole thing any more awkward than it already is.

She ever so relieved to see Rufus and Jiya approaching, and she shoots them a grateful smile, even if they are bearing more marshmallows.

They also have alcohol, and while Lucy's already blaming the little self-control meltdown she's just had on the beers they'd had while in the pool, she doesn't really have a way to evade the drinking game they're proposing. She does manage to push aside any awkwardness momentarily, to solicit a favor from Wyatt. "Please don't let me die of alcohol poisoning right now," she requests. It's been years, but she and Amy used to compete in an alcohol-free version of the game with those awful Peeps candies every Easter, and even in the years when Lucy had been nearly an adult and Amy still a child, with presumably corresponding adult- and child-sized mouths, Amy had managed to beat her every time. Which could spell disaster here.

Wyatt just chuckles at her, but she knows he'll still watch out for her if it comes to it. She may not trust that he's attracted to her, but she trusts him on every other front.

In the end, Lucy surprises herself by managing to outlast Jiya and even hold her own against the guys, until, at some point, she happens to recall her earlier vow by the pool to just go for it and either talk to Wyatt or just do something to gauge his interest. Shoving half a bag of marshmallows into her mouth had not been what she'd had in mind, and she can only imagine how ridiculous she looks, and actually, she thinks she might be drooling. The whole thing strikes her as so sad and pathetic and crazy that she dissolves into laughter, nearly choking on said marshmallows. And it turns into one of those out-of-control laughing fits that just can't be reined in, because really, the whole day has been one big mess of crazy weirdness.

A fact further confirmed when, still doubled over on the tail end of the laughing fit, she ends up with her head on Wyatt's leg and looks up to catch a glimpse of just how ridiculous he looks with his face puffed out to the max. She must still be residually giddy from her own laughing fit, because it makes complete sense in that moment to reach up and poke him in the cheek.

His effort to not laugh in response fails spectacularly, and he feigns anger at her, pouting and informing her, "I could have beaten him, you know. You screwed me up." But he's actually smiling at her and, god, she just wants him, wants this, the casual silly closeness, with him so badly, and she's already sort of leaning against him, and she can't bring herself to pull away.

She still doesn't really move when they both do the 'loser' shots that Rufus insists on, and she's more than a little grateful that Wyatt talks Rufus down from the actual tally they should have done, per the rules, to a far more reasonable two.

Still, two is sufficient to bring about enough of an agreeable buzz that Lucy decides she's going to take what she can get and if Wyatt's not going to complain about her leaning against his bare chest, she'll stay right where she is and enjoy it while she has the opportunity; they can go back to being fully-clothed, normal, platonic colleagues tomorrow.

Except it's still disgustingly hot, which means every time she shifts against him even a little, it's accompanied by less-than-pleasant peeling of herself off his skin.

After one such maneuver, Wyatt must finally be getting sick of her against him, because he shakes her off his shoulder and nods across the patio, suggesting, "Pool?"

As reluctant as Lucy is to relinquish the physical contact with Wyatt while she can still get away with it by blaming the heat and the alcohol, the cool water really does sound tempting. So she climbs off the couch and heads to the pool, hyper-aware of Wyatt just behind her. The thought crosses her mind that he might try to toss her in again, but she's also cognizant of the fact that she's right at that level of tipsy that might have her hold on and not let go if he picks her up. Which, despite being willing to have her lean on him, he may not take so well. So she jumps in before he has the opportunity.

Rufus decides sneak-dunking everyone else is a splendid idea, but since the whole car accident fiasco in college, she's never been a fan of being forced underwater; she shoots Rufus a warning glance when he eyes her the first time, and thankfully, he obliges with her silent request. Wyatt isn't so lucky, and Lucy can tell he's getting a little annoyed.

So while Rufus is preoccupied with chasing Jiya to dunk her, Lucy catches up to Wyatt. She tells herself that wrapping her arms and legs around him is perfectly innocent, all in the name of keeping Rufus away, and she tells Wyatt as much when she leans over his shoulder. He also takes to drifting his hand up and down one of her shins while treading water with his other arm, and she tells herself maybe it means he doesn't mind that she's less than gracefully clinging to his back like a drowning monkey.

But the alcohol doesn't let her think too much harder about it than that, so she just hangs onto him, again trying to take what she can get in terms of any physical contact at all.

It only really sinks in as uncomfortable and desperate when Rufus and Jiya start getting all cozy again and it's glaringly obvious that, while their physical contact is clearly relationship-driven, Lucy's with Wyatt is most definitely not. She's already about to let go when Wyatt gestures back toward the patio, probably having hit his limit of her hanging off him.

But then he sits back down on the couch at even more of an angle that he was before, and she can't see it as anything but an invitation to curl up against him, so she does exactly that before she can second-guess herself for the millionth time that day. Just as she had earlier, when she'd had the audacity to climb on his lap, Lucy tries to stay awake to savor the feel of his body against hers, but it's been a long day of hot temperatures and exhausting emotional and mental gymnastics on her part, so between that and the lingering headiness of the alcohol, she feels herself starting to drift off against him. Just before she does, she feels him unclasp her hair clip and run his fingers through her hair, and she nods off wishing they could fall asleep exactly that way every night.

She doesn't know how much later it is when she wakes to him moving ever so slightly just as Rufus' mom is telling him they don't have to go. Given the fact that she's still curled up against Wyatt, Lucy wouldn't mind not going anywhere just yet, but even as he runs his hand over her hair again, he's already making a move to leave. "Luce," he whispers, "we should go."

Her heart does a little fluttery thing, just like it always does when the shortened version of her name slips from his mouth. She's sure it's really just an issue of brevity, but a little part of her always hopes that it's maybe more in line with what might be considered a term of endearment.

And for a split second when she meets his gaze as she sits up, there's something – longing? – to the look in his eyes that makes her think that maybe, just maybe, it actually it could be, but then it's gone, and he's standing up to rifle around for the bag he'd brought with him.

She has to know. She has to.

She's not sure she can take this not knowing where they stand anymore. She's going to do… something. What she's not sure, but Lucy promises herself that she's not going home tonight without figuring out what they are to each other. But it's been – she glances over at the ornamental clock hung above the patio door – a full two hours that they've been dozing, on top of the at least an hour they'd spent in the pool, and another half hour before that of lazing around after the shots, so she won't be able to write any of whatever she does off as being fueled by booze. She just doesn't know what to do.

In the meantime, she pulls her dress back over her head, readying her other things in her bag, still wondering all the while if it would be better to just straight up ask him whatever happened to possibilities, or if she should do something, or-

Then there he is, standing there waiting for her to leave with him, and his hand is extended out, and she knows it's just him doing that polite gentlemanly thing of gesturing for her to walk ahead of him, because it's Wyatt, and that's just what he does, but she's Lucy and she has to know, and it's still his hand extended in her direction, so she just goes for it and slips her hand into his instead, lacing her fingers through his.

Wyatt's surprised, she can tell, because he freezes there and doesn't move toward the house until she gives him a slight shove, but at least he doesn't pull his hand away.

Once inside, they thank Rufus' mother for her hospitality, but she just tells them to think nothing of it, that she's happy to have finally met the friends that she hears about so often from Rufus. And then somewhere in there, she manages to somehow compliment them on how wonderful a couple they are. Wyatt doesn't correct her, and Lucy tries to tell herself that it doesn't mean anything, that she shouldn't take it as a sign of anything, that she still needs to just talk to him, but the lack of denial on his part still has her stomach doing a little flipflop when she replies with a shy "Thank you."

It's only when they reach the front porch and Lucy sees their cars along the side of the street that she really realizes that she has to do something because she can't go home tonight without knowing.

And she's sure it's overly optimistic, but on the off-chance that whatever she ends up doing goes well, she's not going to want to go home alone.

So, impulsively, she squeezes Wyatt's hand and tells him to wait for her while she runs back inside.

Rufus' mom is surprised to see her, and probably even more surprised when she blurts out that they're not actually a couple, but if something about that status were to change in the next few minutes, would it be ok if they left one of their cars in front of the house for the night? Lucy's pretty sure she's bright red as the words tumble out of her mouth, but the older woman just shoots her a softly amused smile and nods, telling her to go get him.

He hasn't driven off without her when she steps back out onto the porch, which she supposes could be considered promising. And he still doesn't pull away when she reaches for his hand again.

But then they're already across the lawn and it's now or never and all Lucy can think is that if she tries to talk her way through this thing, it's just going to come out all wrong.

So even though Wyatt is actually starting to say something himself, she doesn't let him finish, and instead goes for broke and leans up on her toes to press her lips to his.

He doesn't react.

He doesn't do anything and Lucy wants to cry, because it's everything she was afraid of. She backs off, ready to apologize and then bolt for her car to actually partake in the crying, but something makes her lean in one more time, desperately trying to convince herself that she's wrong, that there is something there.

And then it's as if a switch has gone off somewhere, because out of nowhere, Wyatt springs to life, his lips suddenly moving against hers as he shoves her bag off her shoulder to the ground. She lets out a little hiccup of surprise against his mouth when his arms wrap around her to pull her closer to him, but he just takes that as an invitation to run his tongue over hers and that surprise fades quickly into delight.

For as hot as it's been the past two days, it's nothing compared to the fire racing through Lucy's veins as she drinks in Wyatt's kisses, practically purring with contentment as his hands wander over her body and everything she's hoped for with him becomes a very real possibility.

He pulls away at some point, breathing heavily, but she can't even bring herself to be upset because he looks so good, his mouth all swollen from her kisses.

She's not questioning how she went about things, but she does feel a little badly that he'd been going to say something when she'd cut him off with the kiss, so she speaks up, a little bashful as she does. "Before, um, this," she stammers, "what were you going to say?"

He laughs and looks a little bashful himself as he admits, "Pretty much what you did." He adds with a shrug, "but I think you said it better than I was going to."

At first she feels a little bubble of joy in her chest at the fact that they truly were on the same page and she's just been worrying and stuck in her head for no reason, but then she's a little saddened by the fact that they'd both apparently barely worked up the nerve to do anything about it, meaning who knows how much longer it could have been that nothing happened. "I'm just glad someone did," she replies, her gaze dropping down.

Wyatt reaches out to lift her face back up and echoes seriously, "Me too."

And of course she's going to kiss him again after that. So she does, and then it keeps going, and then she can feel him, warm and solid against her hip, and though she's hardly complaining, it may be that Rufus' mom or the neighbors might if things go any farther out here on the lawn.

So she leans back ever so slightly, her heavy breaths still close enough to mingle with his as she informs him, "Rufus' mom said we can leave a car parked here. I asked," she adds with a smirk.

He smirks right back at her and pulls her in for yet another blistering kiss.

They do eventually leave to head to his apartment; she doesn't have to drape herself on her air conditioner after all. She'll be on Wyatt instead.

(Rufus is going to be merciless the next time they see him. But it's worth it.)

~FIN~

I know some people may not like Lucy's self-doubt, but while I see Wyatt's main mental hurdle on the path to a relationship just being the Jessica issue, Lucy has to deal with questions about that too, in addition to the fact that she (seemingly…? I dunno, that's just the read I get on her character) hasn't been in a relationship as serious as what she wants or as what Wyatt is used to. Though I think she came off a little more insecure than I originally intended. But she made the move in the end, so it's all good, right? :)

Edit: (I don't think what I'm mentioning below counts as spoilers, but just in case, minor/vague spoiler alert? For the DVD deleted scenes?)

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I'm actually even more convinced that I'm right about Lucy now that I've seen the deleted scenes on the DVD :)