Work Text:
In the first moment, Lockwood looks at me, eyes squinting as if trying to make out my shape. They’re also strangely focused, like he was sure who I was but wasn’t sure how I was alive.
In the second, he kisses me.
His lips are dusty and mine are chapped and both of us are bloody and sore but somehow it is the best thing that has happened to me in weeks. I feel invigorated, as if I could take on a whole other batch of Type Twos— Type Threes, even, if they exist. My entire body vibrates and all I can do is grasp his face and pull him closer and closer to me.
From the side, I hear George cough, and I pull away. Lockwood makes a noise.
"Where was his slap in the chops? Where was his firm shaking? There’re double standards at work here.” His face is flushed as he says it and looks a bit sad, even as he tries to poke fun at us.
Lockwood just smiles at him and raises a finger, beckoning to George.
"Come here."
"What? No. You’ll do something."
"No I won’t."
"You’ll pull on my nose or something for being rude."
"George, I won’t. Trust me."
George blows out an irritable gust of air. He considers Lockwood, who’s smiling gently and holding his hand out. Finally, George shuffle-crawls over to where Lockwood and I sit on the ground.
"Look, I’m so—" George starts, but then Lockwood kisses him too, and in this moment, all I can do is stare. George splutters briefly, his cheeks going crimson from their pale pink, his arms flailing wildly at his sides. Then he settles, melting into Lockwood’s hands on his face. His eyes close. I wonder if we looked like that. I suppose the only difference is George is content to let Lockwood take the lead, holding his face like he’s made of the most delicate porcelain. It’s enough to make me blush. Finally, Lockwood pulls away.
"Right! No use sitting around! We can’t stay in this basement forever. We’d best get to thinking about how to get out." He stands, abruptly, a new spring in his step. George and I stay on the floor, staring at him, then each other. There’s a silence, then George clears his throat.
"Well, then."
"Yes. Ahem. Um."
"Yes."
We continue to stare at each other for a moment.
"We should eat something, before we get to work," I say, helpfully.
"Ah. Yes. Good idea, Lucy," George says, rather blandly. I doubt the blush on either of our cheeks has faded.
"Well," I say, standing and offering a hand to him. "Let’s get to it."
He clears his throat again before nodding and taking my hand.
Yes. Let’s."
-end-