Chapter Text
The time before moving back into Portland Row passed quicker than ever. Redecorating it to dress the house up as much as possible in its old style was a mammoth task, but luckily they had at least a dozen friends more than willing to help. Lockwood designed his bedroom, George and Lucy tried to get theirs to match their old ones as much as possible, and Three set up in Jessica’s old room, if it could even be called that anymore after the renovations.
Before they knew it, an entire year had passed, and things only seemed to be getting better. The country wasn’t out to get them anymore, DEPRAC was nothing but a memory, and Penelope Fittes would never be a threat to anyone ever again.
Piece by piece, they started to put themselves back together.
• • 𝚿 • •
Six months in, and Lockwood could throw his head back and laugh without being in pain from it. Eight months, and Three could reach above his head without wincing. Most nights they ended up in Lockwood’s bed, but occasionally they needed their own spaces — like when George came down with something awful and couldn’t share a bed with portable-furnace Anthony Lockwood. George had also attempted to shut himself in his room to reduce the chance of further casualties, as they found out alarmingly quickly that getting sick messed with his control.
(Thank god for Kit’s quick reflexes, or the plate that shot out of the cupboard without warning could very well have taken off someone’s head.)
Lockwood — no, Anthony now — was definitely doing better overall, and George couldn’t be happier. For one thing, he was moving around without too much difficulty, but the thing that George valued the most was how comfortable he was around them. At first, he’d been too injured to initiate anything himself, and Lucy suggested to George one night that Anthony was probably thankful that they could say no if they wanted to. (Not that they ever wanted to.)
As he healed more, and started to be able to initiate things himself, whether that was a kiss or simply holding hands, for the first few months he was still always hesitant to do so. Now? Now he was like a completely different person. Crossing the line from platonic to romantic had clearly been nerve-wracking for him at first, but one he realised it was barely any different from what they were doing before — except with a little more heat behind it — he was more tactile than ever.
It definitely helped that the final Prometheus outpost got shut down for good before they’d even been back at Portland Row for a full year. Anthony seemed lighter after that, like he’d finally been able to let go of the last stressors from the previous year.
George liked to think they were all doing a lot better overall. Eating better, sleeping better… It finally felt like they were allowed to live, rather than just be alive.
“Morning, Georgie,” Lucy announced herself with a grin as she appeared behind him in the kitchen. He let his eyes leave the cooker for two seconds to glance over his shoulder at her, just in time for her to quickly peck his lips as she hugged him from behind. “Both my boys are up early today. Are you scheming? Or is it just a coincidence?” She pulled away to set the table.
He laughed, setting the pan down so he could tug her back to him for a proper good morning kiss. One hand on her face, one hand around her waist, everything feeling perfect and in its proper place. Lucy smiled into it, a soft giggle escaping her lips and buzzing against his as he pulled away. “That’s better,” he remarked. “Good morning, Luce.”
Lucy reached up to ruffle his hair slightly before pressing a delicate kiss into his cheek. “It is a good morning,” she agreed with a smile.
George turned back to the food, unable to wipe the grin from his face. “And it's a coincidence, I think. Anthony went out before I got up — he left a note saying he wanted to nip to the shops,” he explained. “Plus, we’ve got guests. I thought it would be a good idea to get started on breakfast as soon as possible.”
“You know none of our guests are morning people, right?” she reminded him. “Oh, hey Three. Sleep well?”
He threw another glance over his shoulder as the other Orange entered, nodding at him in acknowledgement. “You awake enough to give us a hand?” George suggested, cocking his head towards the food.
Three shrugged and lifted his apron over his head before joining him by the cooker. He took over with the turkey bacon, prodding it in the pan to separate it as George waved his hand to open the cupboards. Lucy jumped up to sit on the counter and grab the glasses and George reached over her head to take the plates out of the cupboard.
He didn’t have to reach over her and could have easily reached the plates with telekinesis… but if he did that, then he wouldn’t be close enough to kiss her on the cheek as he reached up.
So, priorities.
George didn’t have to throw a glance in his direction to feel Three rolling his eyes at them fondly from the other side of the room.
The sound of the key in the front door caught George’s ear and he made short work of laying the table so he could greet Anthony. He’d ditched his coat at the door by the sound of it and kicked off his shoes before coming into the kitchen.
“Bacon smells good,” Anthony announced with a grin as he tossed a newspaper onto the table and dropped the shopping bag onto the floor. He pulled George towards him quickly, kissing him once on the forehead before catching his lips briefly. “Morning,” he whispered, before letting Lucy tug him towards her on the counter by his tie to get her own greeting.
George laughed, watching as Lucy pulled him close enough to kiss him. “You’re up early,” she noted.
Anthony nodded. “Wanted a copy of the good news,” he explained, cocking his head towards the paper on the table. “And we’re out of doughnuts, so that had to be fixed, naturally.”
“Naturally,” Lucy parroted in amusement. “What’s the good news?”
George summoned the paper into his hand but the headline was clear before it had even reached him. “They’re reopening all the secondary schools? It’s finally going ahead?”
“Yep,” he confirmed, popping the ‘p’. “And it gets better — Barnes has been in meetings with the Department of Education about it — they’re adding two new procedures. One’s a new class that focuses on managing and understanding Psi abilities, and the other’s—”
“A buddy system,” Kit finished for him as she skipped into the kitchen. “You know, the news is available online, right, Grandpa?” She teased Anthony, ducking under the arm he was leaning against the cupboard so she could grab herself a glass of juice. He ruffled her hair with his free hand on her way past.
“You can’t frame an online article, Kit,” he pointed out.
She rolled her eyes. “You can screenshot it, same difference.” She retrieved the juice and sat down at the table, shutting the fridge door with a wave of her hand and summoning herself a glass in the next motion. “And I know about the buddy system, ‘cause I’m going to be part of it when I go back to school and they try to squeeze everything I should’ve learnt by now into the next two years before GCSEs.”
Anthony winced. “Good luck with that, sounds painful.”
“It will be, but I’ll be using Three and Isaac to cheat, so I’ll be fine,” she replied with a shrug.
Three took the bacon off the heat to serve it, raising his free hand in a ‘don’t look at me, I’m innocent’ kind of gesture. Still, George didn’t miss the way the Orange winked at Kit when he thought no one was looking.
Paul laughed, catching the tail end of their conversation as he came up from the basement. “Plausible deniability, Kitkat. We can’t cover for you convincingly if we know what you’re doing,” he reminded her as he dropped into a free seat at the end of the table. “Wow, I should stay over more often if it means I get cooked breakfast every day.” He served himself with a wave of his hand.
“We’ll have you as often as you like, door’s always open,” Anthony assured him warmly.
“I know, but we’ve got to head to Bristol tomorrow to collect some kids. Early start, early drive, but it’ll be fun.” He shrugged. “So I’ll enjoy the bacon while it lasts.”
“Don’t enjoy it too much,” Kit warned, swatting his hand away before he could take another piece. “The people that actually live here should get first dibs?”
Paul scoffed. “Whatever happened to that London hospitality?”
George rolled his eyes at them affectionately as he retrieved Anthony’s doughnuts. “Mind,” he warned, summoning a plate directly to the table for the doughnuts to meet it there. Three attempted to swipe one from mid air but Kit blocked him, earning herself a fond scowl for her efforts as Lucy attempted to hide a chuckle. “I wouldn’t mind going back to school,” George admitted as he sat down. “I didn’t get to go GCSEs or A-Levels. Well, technically speaking at least. Not sure what I’d study, though.”
Anthony mulled it over as he served himself some of the bacon. “I’m not sure what I’d do if I went back and finished school… But I wouldn’t mind finding out.”
• • 𝚿 • •
Anthony Lockwood had never really thought about life after. After the Problem, after Cherub, after they made it out. Truthfully, up until just under a year ago he hadn’t expected to live that long, let alone long enough to plan for the future. Despite looking forward to coming back to Portland Row, Lockwood couldn’t help but wonder if the same old ghosts would be there to greet him — or worse, if they wouldn’t. He wasn’t sure how to deal with either outcome.
Stepping over the threshold for the first time, he was met with nothing but a wave of familiarity and a strong sense of belonging. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t identical to the house he grew up in, that the cracks in the walls or the dent from where he’d once hit his head on the bannister weren’t there. His family had made it a home once, and Lockwood knew immediately that the family he had now would be able to do that again.
Even though it was coming home, it felt like a fresh start anyway. He was far from being the same person he was the day the house burned, and he knew that long before finally opening himself up to the possibility of accepting the change. He’d been toying with the idea for a while but it wasn’t really until they had to meet Barnes one day and Lucy gave their names to the receptionist that it really hit him.
He’d forgotten how it felt to hear his first name.
He wouldn’t mind hearing it again.
He’d been Lockwood for so long, clinging to the family history but not with the name they’d given him so he wouldn’t have to hear it in his sister’s voice. It was too painful at first, but as that pain faded to a dull ache so did the memory of anyone else using his name.
One night, he tentatively broached the subject with George and Lucy.
He’d been staring at the ceiling for god knows how long, and either side of him he could tell they’d noticed. It was only a matter of time before…
“Penny for your thoughts, Lockwood?” George broke the silence, tracing patterns up and down his arm with his finger.
“Anthony,” he’d corrected him, before he could talk himself out of it.
Lucy propped herself up on one arm, watching him carefully. “Anthony?”
God, he wanted her to say it again.
He nodded, unable to make eye contact with either of them as he explained. “I’ve been thinking about it… Jess wouldn’t want my name to die with her. I think I’m ready to hear it again, every now and then, from you two. Just you.”
George mirrored Lucy’s position, half-leaning on his elbow as he lifted himself slightly from the mattress to look at him. There were no follow-up questions, nor did he hesitate before offering a reassuring smile to accompany the words: “It’s nice to meet you, Anthony.”
Say it again. Say it again. Say it again.
“Our Anthony,” Lucy echoed softly, testing out the name on its own. She dropped back down onto the mattress and sighed contentedly.
“I like the sound of that,” George whispered.
Anthony sought out one of their hands in each of his, satisfied he’d made the right decision. “Me too.”
Sitting at the table now, surrounded by the people he cared about, Anthony was satisfied he’d made all the right decisions there too. It hadn’t been the easiest road to end up where they were, and he knew they’d lost almost too much trying to get there… but he wouldn’t change the outcome.
“I’m not sure what I’d do if I went back and finished school… But I wouldn’t mind finding out.” Anthony shrugged as he popped a piece of bacon into his mouth. “Hey, has anyone put the toast on yet?”
“On it!” Kit waved her hand.
“Thanks.” He smiled at her appreciatively. “Yeah, I’ve never given much thought to it before, but I’ve got time to try a few things and see what fits. What about you, Luce?”
• • 𝚿 • •
She contemplated it for a second, thinking it over. “I think I’d like to do something arty, now that I’ve got time,” Lucy admitted with a shrug. “Maybe I’ll get a bit more practice in first though.”
“Well, if you need a model…” Anthony trailed off teasingly as he rested both elbows on the table and laced his fingers together. She caught sight of George trying to smother his laugh with his hand on the other side of him, eventually stifling it by raising his glass to his lips. Of course, he hadn’t been expecting Anthony to throw the curveball: “I’m sure George would be willing, I’ve heard he’s quite the catch.”
Poor George practically choked on his juice, earning himself a pat on the back from Three as he set the glass down and Lucy caved into fits of giggles. George managed to recover fairly quickly — determined to get revenge — and leaned over towards Anthony. “Or you could ask our resident pretty boy Anthony, here,” he mused, a cocky smile making its way onto his face.
Anthony hadn’t had the bad luck of being in the middle of drinking when George caught him off guard, but he did an impressive job of choking on air in his next inhale. Clearly the combination of the not-so-frequently used vein of compliment with his given name had the effect of rendering him more than speechless.
Kit snickered. “I think you broke him,” she stage-whispered to George, hiding behind her hand.
Satisfied, George leaned over the rest of the way towards Anthony and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Remember to breathe, love.”
Lucy watched them with nothing but fondness. The headlines said the country was piecing itself back together; the scene in the kitchen proved that so were they.
Lucy had never really been that sure of what ‘normal’ was supposed to look like. The Problem threw all hope of that out the window from the moment it started. What was normal? Was it waking up between the people you loved as their presence reminded you that you’re not alone? Was it making breakfast and moving seamlessly around each other in the kitchen as if you’d memorised each others’ movements? Or was it falling asleep in front of the TV surrounded by everyone you cared about and the overwhelming feeling of safety? However things were supposed to play out, this was the new normal.
And Lucy loved every minute of it.