Chapter Text
“This is ridiculous!” Lockwood shouted from the back of the idling DEPRAC van. “Bloody ridiculous!” He slammed his fist against the door in frustration. It was a satisfying, if peculiar, slip of his fastidious mask but one he could let himself indulge in considering the circumstances.
“I still don’t understand what’s happened,” Lucy said from behind him. He turned and found her sitting on one of the benches against the wall. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees, fingers picking at her nails nervously as her eyes searched his for some kind of answer. “Why did DEPRAC come to arrest us?” she asked and it pained him that he didn’t immediately have an answer for her.
Why, indeed? They’d taken this residential job because it was a nice and easy slip back into the swing of things after the disastrous warehouse job. Nearly a week of rest and neither of them were prepared to continue pattering around the house with nothing productive to do. This job was only a simple type one and didn’t truly need both of them to dispatch it but it was the perfect excuse to get out and shake off the cobwebs, so to speak. The middle-aged Mr. Galligan had paid partially in advance. George had done all the research ahead of time so they were forewarned and thus forearmed. And yet only minutes after the client left, before they’d so much as unpacked their gear, DEPRAC rolled up with sirens blaring, lights flashing, and had thrown them both in the back of the van with the only explanation being “trespassing.”
“I haven’t any idea why they think we’re trespassing,” Lockwood grumbled. He slumped next to her on the bench, the long line of his right thigh pressed against hers. Some of the tension melted out of his spine at the contact, which he’d given up on trying to explain away to himself because he knew full well what the explanation was, and he ran his fingers through his hair, thinking. He could feel the slight pressure of Lucy relaxing beside him, despite their frustrating situation. “Barnes wouldn’t answer any of my questions but at least he’s called George.”
Lucy continued to pick at her nails and Lockwood had the urge to take her hand into his to help her stop. In the past he’d have found some reason to resist the desire, found a different way to divert her attention. Now he laid his hand palm up on his knee and wiggled his fingers a bit. And just like that, Lucy leaned back against the wall of the van and tangled her fingers with his, hers chilly in the cool of the evening. He brought his left hand over and rubbed her fingers between his, warming them up.
How on earth had he fought this for so long? And for what preposterous reason? Because he was worried she would leave him like everyone else had? That fear hadn’t vanished overnight. It still curled tightly within his chest, buried under more layers than the two of them had been able to excavate yet. But she hadn’t pushed too far and he knew she wouldn’t. She would lead him to her just as easily as he’d laid his hand out for her and she had come to him. It wasn’t perfect. But true to his word, they would practice and then at least they could make progress.
They sat this way, quietly listening to the bustle outside of the van. Fortunately, someone had turned off the siren at least. It was hard to justify leaving it running here in the residential area packed with row houses. The lights by themselves were bad enough for folks in the area trying to sleep. Lockwood rested his head back against the wall and let his eyes fall closed while they waited.
But this could be quite dangerous. Closing his eyes at all these last few days had been torturous because any time he possessed a moment like this to himself, all he could think of was Lucy.
Kissing Lucy.
Before, when he’d allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to kiss her, that’s all it had been. His imagination. He could play little scenes out in his mind, imagine his hands on her waist or her fingers in his hair, conjure the taste of her on his tongue and envision how her body might fit against his. It had occasionally led to awkward moments as he pushed those thoughts aside to focus on being a good employer, a fast friend, a trusted member of the unusual but perfect little family they’d found together.
But he had become something more than these things to her now and he no longer needed to invent a dream version of kissing Lucy. He now knew just how far short his imagination had fallen when conjuring the sensation of holding her to him, breathing her in, bringing her lips to his.
He swallowed hard, thinking back to the moment, two days ago, when he’d taken her chin and asked to kiss her. No part of him had truly expected her to say no at that point. There wasn’t any guessing left between them, thankfully. But the split-second of doubt had been immediately squashed by her response of, “Please do.”
At first, it had been tentative. Gentle. Both a bit like frightened deer, ready to bolt at the first hint of a threat, afraid to breathe or move lest the whole thing be revealed as a dream. But she’d leaned closer, her hands trailing up to his neck, fingers gripping his hair as she rose on her toes. He pulled her hips to him more tightly, his free hand cupping the back of her neck. He’d sucked on her bottom lip, worrying it gently between his teeth for a moment and she’d whimpered in a way that weakened his knees and stole his breath. And left him in such a state that it was necessary for him to take a step back before he got carried away.
He still desperately wished to get carried away.
Flushed and breathless, they’d stood there nose to nose, grinning like absolute fools.
They hadn’t found a moment alone again since, until now.
“What are you thinking?” she asked. Lockwood turned his head slightly and opened his eyes to find her with a cheeky smile and he realized he had been biting his lip.
“Something not entirely appropriate.”
Her eyes darted away for a moment, to the door of the van, and then back to his. Her cheeks were steadily becoming flushed, her eyes held a heat he hadn’t seen since that night in his room. He loved it. Her voice was low and playful when she asked, “How not appropriate?”
He cracked. The grin broke free of him with no control. Her fingers tugged free of his and traced a line up his arm lightly. He closed his eyes and bumped his head back against the wall again. “One way or the other, you will be the death of me, Lucy Carlyle.”
Annoyance did not accurately describe the depths of emotion George felt as he stepped out of the cab to a scene of controlled chaos, the likes of which only DEPRAC was truly capable of. He’d tried to explain the situation to Inspector Barnes over the phone when he’d called but Barnes wanted to see the paperwork and the research for himself before he would make a decision on the situation.
He found Barnes standing to one side of the scene, leaning against a garden wall and watching two grown adults arguing wildly in the tidy front garden.
“What’s this then?” George asked without preamble, gesturing toward the man and woman currently hurling epithets at one another which couldn’t be repeated in polite company.
“We may have gotten to the bottom of all this,” Barnes replied with a sigh. He held out a hand for the folder George carried and he gave it over. Barnes only flipped through the first few pages before he was satisfied. “That’s what I thought.”
“Well, what is it?” George asked.
Barnes pointed to the man first. “That’d be your client, Mr. Galligan. He wanted the house secured so he can sell it,” he answered. The gentleman in question was currently ducking as the woman picked up small stones from the walkway of the house and pelted him with them.
“Yes, I do recall that information from our interview with him. In our sitting room. At our house. Which is where I was happily enjoying my solitude before you insisted I needed to be here,” George said. “So give me something I don’t already know.”
Barnes frowned at him but continued. “And this lovely, if slightly violent, lady is his wife, Mrs. Galligan,” he said. “Soon-to-be ex-wife. Both of their names are on the deed to the house. They’re still arguing over who should get it. I’d say it isn’t an amicable divorce.”
George smacked his forehead with the butt of his hand. “Of course. She called us in for trespassing because if the source doesn’t get taken care of, he can’t sell the house out from under her.”
“Precisely.”
“So Lockwood and Lucy were here under good faith and with a contract to be here by someone with their name on the deed of the house,” George said. “So they can’t be arrested for trespassing, right?”
“You’d be correct. They’re free to go.”
George blinked. “Great. So where are they?”
Barnes tipped his head in the direction of the DEPRAC van.
“If they’re not under arrest, why do you still have them detained?”
“They’re not detained,” Barnes said with a chuckle. “You’re more than welcome to tell them they’re free to go.”
George grumbled, “I have to do everything no matter where I go.” He stormed over to the back of the van and looked in the small window on the back door.
Immediately he whirled, his face showing bright pink in the uneven lighting of the evening street, pulling a full belly laugh from Barnes. “You could have warned me,” he hissed.
“Ah, but where’s the fun in that?” Barnes replied.
“I can’t believe this,” George groaned. He glared up at the stars twinkling above as if they had been the ones to offend him. “You can’t be serious,” he grumbled. He then raised his voice and said through the door, “This is ridiculous,” and then rapped his fist on the door a few times without looking in the window again. “Lockwood, Lucy. You’re not being detained. Let’s go home.” He pulled the door open a crack and then walked away to wait further down the street for a cab.
Lockwood pushed the door open the rest of the way, attempting but failing to straighten his tie. He hopped down and held his hand out to help Lucy down, who took the assistance and then ran her fingers through her mussed hair, trying to get it straight again. She adjusted the hang of her skirt.
“Highly unprofessional, Barnes, leaving us trapped like that,” Lockwood said, tugging at his cuffs and clearing his throat. He could do nothing for his flushed face or bruised lips. Lucy crossed her arms and glared daggers at everything and nothing in particular.
“Hmm,” Barnes replied, shaking his head and schooling his features. “I’m sure that was just awful for you.”