Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Unlike many boys his age, Gregory Bridgerton was excited to meet his soulmate. 

His mates whinged about the unfairness of it all; how were they meant to live their lives and have their fun when they had a soulmate to consider? It was difficult to do all the things a typical sixteen year old boy wanted to do when anyone (any girl , Greg hoped desperately) could be the one made for you. Other boys lamented this, constantly, but Gregory did not. 

At this point, he had too many examples of how wonderful the concept of a soulmate could be. His parents’ love story was nearly famous, for they were soulmates and lovers in the truest of definitions. Daphne met Simon years ago, and they lived in a nauseating wedded bliss now with two toddlers. Anthony found his soulmate not long ago, in Gregory’s art teacher Kate Sharma (Greg was a bit peeved about this one). Even Benedict and Colin, both romantics at heart but slightly scornful of the entire soulmate concept, had found their soulmates several months before in slightly less-than-ideal circumstances. 

Gregory had happy examples of what soulmates could be in his family, and at sixteen years old, he was raging to find his own.

And he thought he had, in Miss Hermione Watson.

Hermione Watson was gorgeous . She was a year younger than Gregory in school, but they shared a music class where they both played their respective instruments horribly. Hermione was all gold-spun blonde hair, piercing green eyes, and perfect face. Greg knew without a doubt that she was the one meant for him.

The only problem was Hermione Watson had no idea who he was. Not for a lack of trying, though. 

Truthfully, Gregory made a fool out of himself in front of Hermione as often as he could to try and get her attention. Her head, though, was forever turned. She never acknowledged anything he did, even when he was directly addressing her.

He wrote her cute notes and put them in her locker, he bought her drinks at lunch, and he once (several times) even dragged Hyacinth to school early so that he could wait and attempt to walk her to her first class.

None of these actions had any effect.

A blessing, though, after weeks of his awkward attempts, came in the form of an angel named Lucinda Abernathy.

Lucy was Hermione’s best friend since infancy, and no one knew Hermione like she did. She knew what Hermione liked, and what she disliked, and how exactly to get her attention (and keep it). 

According to Lucy, Hermione believed her soulmate was someone entirely unsuitable. Hermione thought that she was completely in love with him, and Lucy had made it her life’s mission to show Hermione that he was not her soulmate.

So, for this reason, Greg and Lucy had formed a kind of partnership. Well, it began as a partnership; now, Greg could truly say Lucy was his best friend.

What began as texts conspiring on how to show Hermione that Greg existed turned into near-constant debates and inside jokes. Lucy spent most evenings at his home, and weekends as well, and soon their odd companionship turned into a real friendship.

The first indication that something was odd was the time that they went an entire day without once mentioning Hermione. Greg shrugged it off, though. They would make up for lost time later. 

Per usual, Saturday found Lucy splayed out on Greg’s bed with their school books surrounding her, scrolling through her phone and watching Greg, who was thoroughly distracted by a game on his phone. 

“Aren’t we supposed to be studying?” Lucy asked him through a yawn. His bed was truly far too comfortable; Lucy had begun to associate it with late night cuddles and afternoon naps. It was almost second nature at this point to fall asleep lying where she was.

“Do you want to?” Greg joked without looking up from his phone. “I thought we were having a nice break.”

“It isn’t a break if we never started in the first place, Greg,” Lucy pointed out. Greg sat on the floor, with his back against the bed, in the perfect position for Lucy to look over his shoulder and see what he was playing. “Flappy Bird, really, Gregory?” she asked, unamused. “Put your phone down and come up here.”

As she spoke, Greg’s bird hit a pipe and he sighed. “As the lady commands,” he grumbled. Lucy made no move to make space for him, so he squeezed himself onto the bed in the only way he could: he crawled over her until he reached the wall, then splayed himself half over the empty space and half over Lucy herself. “Are you comfy now?”

“Very,” Lucy mumbled under his weight. Then she sighed. “What is your new plan about Hermione?”

“New plan?” Greg asked, turning his head so it rested next to her shoulder and looking into her eyes. “I didn’t know I needed a new plan. I thought Plan Daisy was going to go wonderfully.”

Lucy shook her head. “I think you need a more concrete action. We need something that proves you’re serious. Or that you can be serious, at least.”

Greg swatted at her. “I am perfectly serious, thank you. We’ve been making and executing plans for months . Surely you know how much I like Hermione.”

“I know, I know,” Lucy told him dismissively. “You think you’re in love with Hermione, but she doesn’t know that. We have to come up with some way to show her that.”

Greg nearly rolled his eyes at Lucy’s speculation about his feelings. He knew he was in love with Hermione Watson, thank you. Or at least he knew he could be.

As surely as the sky was blue, and as Kate and Anthony were soulmates, and as Lucy’s eyes were the most shocking green, Greg knew that Hermione Watson was his soulmate. He just had to figure out how to show her that. 

“What about your soulmate, Luce?” Greg asked her quietly, trying to divert the attention off himself. Lucy very rarely spoke about her soulmate; she knew who they were, but as far as Greg knew, her soulmate did not know her and seemingly had no desire to.

“What about him?” Lucy asked in an annoyed tone. “We were talking about you, Greg. Don’t deflect.”

“No,” Greg said as he adjusted himself until he was propped on his elbows, looking down at Lucy. “Don’t you deflect. Do you ever want to get to know your soulmate?”

“I know him perfectly well,” she answered with a frown. “He doesn’t know we’re soulmates, and he doesn’t want to. I’ve told you this. Why are you asking?”

“I don’t know,” he told her truthfully. Greg wasn’t entirely sure why he asked, but it suddenly seemed necessary. “I just… I know that we became friends because of this whole Hermione thing, but you’re my best friend, Luce. I hate that so many of our conversations revolve around me and my love life. I couldn’t do this without you, but I want to help you too, Lucy.”

It wasn’t his intention, but Lucy smiled the softest of smiles and made Gregory’s heart flutter. He liked that he was able to put these kinds of smiles on her face, especially when he knew that she didn’t want to smile.

“I don’t think our friendship works like that, Greg,” she said softly, raising her hand to push his hair off his forehead, just for a moment. “You help me, even when you don’t realize you do. Our friendship doesn’t revolve around Hermione, not anymore at least.” That put a soft smile on Greg’s face. “And as for my soulmate, I really don’t put that much stock into it. If we’re meant to be together, we’ll find our way to each other. If not, I have my eye on a couple other boys, too.”

“Wait,” Greg froze, “who do you have your eye on?”

“I’ll let you know when it’s important,” Lucy answered vaguely. “Now, back to you. What are you going to do about Hermione to prove you’re serious?”

“Prom,” Greg blurted. “I should ask her to prom. That would seem serious enough, wouldn’t it? Public event, people would see us, and I could pull out all the stops.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t ask her to prom,” Lucy said with a snort. “I would hate to see what all your romantic moves are. From what I’ve seen, they aren’t much to comment on.”

Greg tried to plaster a frown on his face and shoved at Lucy’s shoulder, but he quickly broke into laughter. “I think I have the moves!” he protested. “I can be romantic!”

“You can be obsessed, Greg. I don’t know about romantic,” Lucy pointed out.

He rolled back onto his back, mirroring Lucy’s position on the bed, and huffed. “I’ll just have to learn how to woo her, then. How should I ask her to prom? Some grand promposal?”

“Hermione would love a grand promposal,” she answered him quietly. Greg heard her barely-there sigh, even if he wasn’t meant to. For a moment, he let himself wonder what kind of person Lucy’s soulmate was, and why he ignored her so, leaving her to do momentous milestones like prom alone.

“What kind of promposal would you like, Luce?” he asked her. The words escaped before Gregory could capture them, but he found that he really did what to know.

Lucy’s mouth fell open just a bit in shock at his question. “I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it. I don’t figure I’ll be asked.”

“Why do you think you won’t be asked?” Greg frowned. “You’re a catch, Luce. Don’t put yourself down.”

“I don’t think I’m putting myself down. Just being realistic. There’s no one to ask me.”

“Maybe your soulmate will come to his senses and ask you.”

Lucy let out a bitter laugh. “He won’t. But that’s alright. I don’t need that kind of relationship with him. I can find happiness outside my soulmate, Greg. I’ll be okay.”

“But how?” This was not how Greg planned on this conversation going, but plans rarely mattered with Lucy. Oftentimes, they charted their own course together. They started at Point A and quickly moved to Point 7 before realizing that they had completely bypassed the intended result. It was marvelous. “How do you find happiness outside your soulmate? It’s such an amazing thing. I don’t know why anyone wouldn’t want that.”

Lucy turned to look at Greg, likely observing the confusion in his eyes. “It isn’t that I don’t want that happiness with my soulmate. It’s more about… charting your own course. Sure, this is the person my life is tied to, whatever. But just because some odd higher power decided that doesn’t mean that I actually have to follow it. We’re our own people outside our soulmates, Greg. I can find happiness in myself, and in other people. It’s not as difficult as it sounds.”

“That makes sense,” he nodded. “I just see my siblings and their soulmates, and I can’t imagine not having a partnership like that. They just seem to get each other. I want someone to get me like that. I want someone to get you like that.”

“You’ll find that someone, Greg,” Lucy reassured him with a pat on his cheek. “Whether it be Hermione or someone else, you’re too good to pass up. And hopefully I’ll find my person, too. It’s all in good time.”

Together, they sighed. Unable to stop himself, Greg reached out and curled his pinky around Lucy’s. He wanted that bit of comfort for a moment, for himself and her. 

“I didn’t mean to make things depressing,” Greg whispered into the silence. Lucy snorted out a laugh, the one she did when she was trying to hold it in but couldn’t quite manage.

“You didn’t,” she promised. “Let’s go back to prom.”

“Right, then.” Gregory let out a breath. “What kind of promposal do you think Hermione would like? Something big?”

And so, on a crisp Saturday afternoon, Gregory Bridgerton and Lucy Abernathy laid in his bed, clutching pinkies and devising plans for one Hermione Watson, unaware of how things were slowly changing. 

Chapter Text

Truthfully, Gregory probably spent far too much time on his latest plan, but he enjoyed plotting with Lucy far too much to pass anything up. 

First, they decided on a relatively simple promposal: Gregory, with some pound posterboard and a cheesy pun asking Hermione to go with him. Maybe he would have some flowers, or else candy, and it would be very basic and cute.

Lucy quickly scrapped this idea, thinking about how little Hermione liked being treated like everyone else. It wasn’t that she always needed to be treated differently, but she hated cliches, and Gregory was not likely to gain her acceptance with a typical, unspectacular gesture.

Then, Gregory suggested some sort of grand gesture. Hermione drove herself and Lucy to school every day, so he thought that perhaps he could cover her car with post-it notes, spelling out a cheesy PROM?. Lucy dismissed this idea, too, saying it would be a nightmare to clean up.

“You need something romantic , Greg,” Lucy told him, exasperated. “These are just cliche. Are you getting all your ideas from Pinterest?”

“Am I supposed to get them from anywhere else?” Greg whined. He was exhausted by the whole ordeal. Lucy knew Hermione better than anyone else, so Greg trusted her implicitly, but this was quickly becoming exhausting. If this was the kind of effort Hermione Watson required all the time, Gregory was in for a ride.

Distantly, he let himself wonder if Hermione Watson was actually his soulmate. They seemed to be completely at odds, especially in this situation. According to Lucy, she wanted some grand gesture, something that would prove his romantic feelings toward her. It was difficult; Greg considered himself a romantic at heart, but surely, if they were meant to be soulmates, their idea of what constituted romance would line up in some way.

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Hermione Watson wasn’t his soulmate. Maybe he was so blinded by his desire for his soulmate that he thought the first person that might fit that role was for him. 

No, that couldn’t be it. For sixteen years old, Greg was remarkably self-assured, and he knew himself. If he felt in his heart of hearts that Hermione Watson was his soulmate, then she was. It was that simple.

The promposal idea, though, was decidedly not simple. 

This weekend, Lucy had once again taken up residence in Bridgerton House. Truly, it made Gregory grin every time she appeared. Violet was always so welcoming of her presence; now that it was just Francesca (who was getting ready to leave for uni), Gregory, and Hyacinth in residence, he rather thought his mother was missing the chaos that a full house brought. Of course, most of Gregory’s siblings (and partners) made their way back to Bridgerton House each weekend, and Lucy’s presence hardly meant chaos, but Violet preferred a house brimming with her children and friends. 

She was a joy, his mother.

The weather in London was, for once, kind and sunny, so Greg dragged Lucy out to his favorite spot in the garden for a bit of tea and snacks. The weekend brought Colin, Eloise, and Penelope back to Bridgerton House, and Colin, despite being ten years Greg’s elder, absolutely loved needling Greg about Lucy’s near constant presence in their home. He had been doing it for as long as Lucy had been visiting Bridgerton House, but since he pulled his head out of his ass and realized Penelope Featherington, the girl who had been in front of him for ages, was his soulmate, he had gotten so much worse. 

It was constant, so while Colin, Penelope, and Eloise took tea with Violet in the house, Gregory grabbed a tray of snacks and a pot of tea from the kitchen and dragged Lucy out among the trees, somewhere safely beyond the tree cover and the prying eyes of his family.

All he ever wanted was a bit of time with Lucy, without his family’s eyes and constant comments bearing down on him. She was his friend . His friend was allowed to come over when he wanted. 

Lucy, for her part, looking vaguely amused at the effort Greg had gone to to secure their alone time. She laughed at the blanket he spread out and smiled brightly as he poured her tea, something soft in her eyes that made something in Greg feel warm and maybe a little feral. He wanted to keep that smile on her face and the look in her eyes.

“What’s all this for?” Lucy asked with a quirk of her lips. “Trying out your romance skills again?”

“Just wanted to get away from my family,” Greg mumbled with a shy smile. “The weather’s nice, so I thought we could have a bit of a picnic. Do you want to go back inside?”

“Of course not,” Lucy responded, shaking her head. “This just isn’t what we typically do. Usually we just eat crisps in your bed. Can’t blame me for being confused.”

Greg frowned. Was that what they usually did? Surely he made a bit more of an effort than just eating crisps in bed whenever Lucy was around. She deserved more than that.

“Well,” Greg paused, trying to shake the frown from his face, “this is what we can do today. The weather’s nice, and I thought we could have tea out here instead of with my nosy family members.”

“I like your family plenty.”

“I love my family, but Colin won’t stop sticking his nose in things.” He did try not to grumble like a child, but he must have still sounded too petulant because Lucy let out a giggle. 

Lucy reached out to try and pour their tea, but Greg stopped her. Through many debates and conversations over the merits of sugar versus milk, he knew exactly how she took her tea: light on the milk with three sugars. He was able to make quick work of it, trying to keep his eyes off Lucy’s content smile, and soon she was bringing a cup of tea to her lips to cover her smile. 

“Perfect, as always,” Lucy confirmed once she had taken a sip. “No one does it quite like you. What is Colin bothering you about?”

“Just being an older brother, I guess,” Gregory said as he poured his own tea. For some reason, he didn’t want to tell her what Colin was actually pestering him about. Lucy hated being a bother more than most anything, and if she knew that Colin’s poking was mostly about her, she would begin to find reasons not to come back to Bridgerton House, which was truly the last thing Greg would ever want.

He had always liked having Lucy around, but in the last few weeks of their plotting, Greg found he liked having her around even more. Lucy was funny and kind and perhaps a bit more organized than Greg was himself, but he liked that. She was managing; she liked managing herself and managing those around her, and Greg rather liked the way she took charge and inserted herself into his life and his problems. She wanted to make and keep people happy.

Greg loved his friends. He was a ride-or-die type of person. Lucy spent so much energy trying to keep the people around her happy, but steadily, Greg found himself wanting to keep Lucy happy as well. She deserved someone to care for her as much as she cared for everyone else. 

He liked seeing her smile. He liked hearing her laugh. And if Gregory Bridgerton found himself doing more and more stupid things to ensure that that smile and laugh stayed on her face, well, that was his own business.

“Did I tell you that this is my favorite part of the garden?” he asked her after a moment of silence. Greg looked up from his tea and the snacks that he prepared (took from the kitchen) and was absolutely floored by what he saw.

Lucy sat in front of him, her back to the sun, and she was bathed in the most stunning sunlight. Her hair gleamed a bright gold, and her cheeks were flushed with the heat of the day. Her skin seemed to almost glow in the light in the most tantalizing way Greg had ever seen. Lucy looked like a goddess sitting in front of him, too beautiful for him to even touch. His mouth went dry. 

In this light, Greg could count each of her freckles. She had seven, precisely, dotted all around her face. His favorite was the one that looked like Ireland. Her eyes shone like emeralds, trained on Greg with the same inquisitive look they always had. Lucy was, like Hyacinth, always analyzing; while Hyacinth did it for the sake of gossip, Lucy did it for the sake of managing. She was always looking for ways she could help.

Looking at Lucy, something in Gregory’s chest shifted. Where he was once so sure that Hermione Watson was the one for him, now something different took up residence. Here was Lucy, sweet Lucy. His best friend, the one who knew him better than likely any of his family members. Lucy listened to him, and she understood his thoughts and feelings and actions. 

Greg wanted her. He wanted to know what she thought about before she went to sleep, and when she woke up, and pretty much every thought in between. He could wager what many of her dreams were, but he had an intense desire to know the ones that she had never told anyone, maybe not even herself.

He wanted Lucy beside him, in front of him, over him and under him. The need to grab onto Lucy and not let her go (but in a cool, consensual way) almost overtook Greg. His fingers curled into the blanket below him, demanding that he keep his hands to himself. 

He wanted to kiss her, badly.

All this passed through his mind in just a second, but Greg knew that he would never be the same. 

This was love, surely. He knew Lucy. He loved Lucy. Whatever feelings he had for Hermione were just a shadow of what he felt now. This, this was what he was looking for.

There was the bit about soulmates to consider, but he would figure that out later.

“Greg?” Lucy asked softly. She still had that damned smile on her face, and she was looking at him with a question in her eyes. “Where’d you go?”

“I’m right here,” he affirmed, though he didn’t really feel it. Greg felt like he had just travelled a million miles, to an alternate dimension, to a different world.

“You weren’t,” she laughed and poked at his arm. “Penny for your thoughts?”

This was his moment. He should lean over and pull her into him, until he could settle into that place in her chest and never leave.

Greg wasn’t sure he had ever felt anything like this before. The desire to kiss her was so all-consuming he couldn’t think. He could barely breathe . 

“I was just thinking about the garden,” he lied. “Ant says that my dad used to have picnics with us here.”

Now wasn’t the time. Lucy deserves a grand proclamation, some great speech and a hundred flowers. She deserves to have her very own moment, where she was the center of attention. A moment planned out for the sake of admitting these sudden feelings, not a moment just seconds after he realized.

“Really?” Lucy asked with a bit of a gasp. “This is a beautiful spot. I can see why it’s special.”

“I don’t remember it,” Greg told her, shaking his head. “I can’t even be sure he ever brought me out for a picnic here, but I like to think he did. Ant says he would bring all of us along whenever he could. I guess I feel close to him here.” He gave her a bit of a crooked smile.

“Thank you for bringing me here, then,” Lucy answered softly. “It means a lot to me, that you would share this with me.”

“I want to share everything with you, Luce,” Greg blurted. That was probably far too forward, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted Lucy to understand, at least a little bit, how much he valued her. 

“I want to share with you, too, Greg,” she answered quietly. Lucy reached out and patted his cheek before taking another sip of her tea. “How do you always make it so well?” she giggled. “I swear, I can’t even make my own tea this well.”

“I have a talent,” he said in a superior tone. 

Greg let himself get swept away in their conversation, and soon the afternoon had faded away into the evening. He convinced Lucy to stay for dinner (using his undeniable puppy dog eyes) and spent the entirety of the meal trying to remember to eat and not stare her down. Lucy laughing with Hyacinth, Lucy talking with Kate, who arrived in tow with Anthony for dinner, Lucy joking with Colin. She fit in so well it was nearly a dream.

He tried to get her to spend the night, like was typical for their weekends, but Lucy’s brother Richard wanted her home. Gregory barely resisted the urge to kiss her cheek as she bid him goodbye.

Greg was parked in the driveway of Bridgerton House again before he realized that for the first time, they had spent a day together without mentioning Hermione Watsona at all.

-

“Kate, I have a problem!” Gregory proclaimed as he slouched on the couch next to her. As soon as he returned from taking Lucy home, Greg had sought out Anthony’s girlfriend, Kate. It was still a bit weird, considering he was kind of her student and also had a massive crush on her not six months prior, but after many weekends of prolonged Kate-exposure, he ultimately realized that she was not the one for him.

He would rather like someone like her, though.

Since Kate and Anthony had finally accepted their feelings and soulmate-ism, the pair had become a staple at Bridgerton House on the weekends. If they weren’t there for brunch, it was dinner, or a movie in the evenings. Violet loved having her over; Greg was beginning to think his own mother liked Kate more than him. 

“What’s your problem, Greg?” Kate asked him, not looking up from her sketchbook. Newton, her (more than) slightly overweight corgi, laid snoring at her feet. “Did you run out of sunscreen again?”

Greg groaned. “No, I have plenty of sunscreen,” he mumbled. “My problem is about Lucy. Or Hermione. Or both.”

At that, Kate did put down her sketchbook and turn to look at him. “What kind of problem would include both of them?” she asked suspiciously.

“I don’t think I like Hermione anymore,” Greg admitted. “No, I know I don’t like Hermione anymore. I like Lucy. I love Lucy, even, as crazy as that sounds. But I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Okay, slow down,” Kate laughed a bit, settling into the couch a bit closer to him. “Hermione Watson? You liked Hermione?”

“Did you not know this?” he asked her, a bit stunned. Greg figured that everyone knew exactly how obsessed he had been with Hermione. He wasn’t exactly subtle. “I thought Hermione was my soulmate.” 

“Is she?” she asked, her mouth dropping open.

“I don’t know,” Greg shrugged. “Probably not. I fancied myself in love with her, but this whole prom thing has made me realize I don’t think we’re very well suited. She just seems to expect so much . Lucy, on the other hand…”

“You know, I always thought you fancied Lucy,” Kate told him softly. “She’s over so often, and you always look so happy with her. You look like yourself.”

“Do I not always look like myself?”

“It’s different,” Kate rolled her eyes. “It’s like. Let me talk about your brother for a moment. Anthony always looks so tense, right? He’s stressed and high strung, and really, no one can blame him. He’s got a lot to worry about. But when we’re together, he softens, almost? He’s looser and quieter, and he doesn’t have nearly as many frown lines. He looks a bit like he did when he was eighteen, I reckon. More like the boy he was instead of the man he’s meant to be. That’s a bit what you seem like with Lucy, Greg. You aren’t nearly as high strung as Anthony, but you seem more comfortable with yourself when you’re with her. It’s lovely to see.”

Kate had that motherly smile on her face, the one that often made Greg blush and look away. She looked so soft thinking about him and Anthony; he could remember why she had been his first major crush. 

“I feel comfortable around Lucy,” he nearly whispered. “I really, really like her, Kate.”

“Then why do you need my help?” Kate asked gently. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, and Greg nearly slumped against her.

“I don’t know what to do . I’m not her soulmate; she knows who he is, and it’s definitely not me. I don’t know how to reconcile the fact that I’m not her soulmate.” This was what Greg had worried about on his car ride back from Lucy’s. What if Lucy’s soulmate finally came to his senses and made his move? Surely she wouldn’t deny him. As much as Lucy disagreed, she was a romantic at heart, and he knew she wanted her soulmate on some level, even if she would never admit it.

Greg didn’t think he could stand to let himself fall in love with Lucy if she might not be his one day.

“Do you care?” Kate asked with a raised eyebrow. “Do you care that you aren’t her soulmate?”

Greg let himself think about that. It wasn’t something that he had really considered. He knew that there were unmatched pairs; Greg could have a soulmark for Lucy and Lucy not have one for him. It was possible. Somehow it felt like she had to be his soulmate, in a crazy way. The idea felt right and settled into his soul in a way nothing else had.

But did he care that he wasn’t her soulmate? Not really, he decided. He liked Lucy regardless, and he just wanted to be with her. He wanted to know what it felt like to love Lucy, and to be loved by her. People could have relationships and romances that had nothing to do with being soulmates; Kate’s own parents, her father and step-mother, loved each other like soulmates, even though they weren’t. 

Soulmates were just a concept, after all. It all depended on how one treated the concept. 

“I don’t think it does,” Greg answered softly. “I just want to be with Lucy. Being soulmates would be nice, but we don’t have to be. I just want to be with her.”

“Then you’ve answered your own question, really,” Kate pointed out. “You just need to breathe, Greg. And tell her. No beating around the bush. Your brothers are all dumbasses, and I really need you to see what is right in front of you.” She patted him on the head and moved to get up. Greg stopped her.

“I’m not done yet!” he nearly shouted. “I still have a problem.”

Kate sighed and sat back down. “And what is it, Gregory?”

“She says her soulmate wants nothing to do with her, but what if he changes his mind? I can’t compete with her actual soulmate, Kate. If he’s even half as amazing as she is, I have no chance.” Greg let himself groan, and he dropped forward until he was laying face-down in the couch cushions with the top of his head pressed to Kate’s leg.

“Gregory Bridgerton,” Kate started sternly, her voice so sharp that he turned his head so he could almost look at her, “did you not just tell me it doesn’t matter that you aren’t her soulmate?”

“Er, yes,” he confirmed.

“Lucy is a reasonable girl, correct? She has a good head on her shoulders?” 

“Right?” He wasn’t sure where this line of questioning was going.

“Then, do you think,” Kate paused, presumably for dramatic effect, “that you should maybe let her make her own decisions? Lucy is a big girl. If something happens and her soulmate realizes how wonderful she is, should you make the decision for her, or should you let her decide if she maybe likes you more?” 

The question was, very clearly, not meant to be answered, but Greg did anyway.

“I should let her make her own decisions,” Greg mumbled, turning until he was face down again. 

“Good,” Kate said proudly. 

“I’m just scared, Kate,” he confessed. His voice was muffled by the couch cushions. “What if she doesn’t feel the same way? What if I get hurt?”

Kate sighed in a small, pained way. “Greg, will you look at me please?”

Despite himself, Greg looked up at Kate’s gentle smile. “There’s always a chance at being hurt, Greg. Every time you share your feelings, you have the chance of being hurt. But don’t you think that Lucy deserves to hear how you really feel about her? Don’t you think she deserves the option to return those feelings?”

“I guess so,” Greg groaned.

“You might be hurt,” Kate urged him softly. “But you might not. Take the chance, Greg. Be yourself. I don’t think it’s going to go as badly as you think it will.” 

“Thank you, Kate,” he told her, putting on his best smile. “I’m glad that Anthony found you.”

“I’m glad he did too,” she answered as she ruffled his hair. “I’m even happier that you get to be my family instead of just my student. You’re a wonder, Gregory.”

“Alright, too mushy,” he laughed as he pushed himself up. “I need to go think, I think. I’ll see you later, Kate.”

Greg let himself up to his bedroom, trying to plot his next course of action. Step one: lose the plan to ask Hermione to prom. Ask Lucy instead. 

First, he would secure himself a prom date. Then he would set about proving to Lucy how he felt. He would woo her, properly, as she deserved to be wooed.

Greg groaned and threw himself down on the bed. He didn’t know how to woo a girl! Lucy and her disapproval at his attempts to woo Hermione were proof enough. This meant only one thing, and it was a terrible thought.

He was going to have to enlist the help of his brothers.

Chapter Text

Part one of Greg’s master plan to woo Lucy Abernathy: throw out the plan to ask Hermione to prom and instead ask Lucy herself.

It turns out that part one was easier said than done.

The plan began, as many others had, at Bridgerton House. This time, they were laying across the couches in the enormous family room. Bridgerton House held two infamous sectionals (because of, you know, the frankly astronomical amounts of children Gregory’s own parents decided to have); the sectionals were infamous for the sheer number of tusseles and fights that head occurred there, as well as the vast amount of food dropped onto the cushions.

Lucy was laid on one, her feet propped on an armrest and her head lolling off the side as she eyed whatever they were doing on Bake Off. Greg laid in a similar position, but his head was situated near Lucy’s.

They had been silent for nearly twenty minutes, which was an insane record for them. Lucy seemed to be content absently watching cakes being made, but Greg, truthfully, was losing his mind.

He needed to just roll over and ask it. As Kate and Anthony both had so helpfully reminded him, the worst that could happen would be Lucy saying no. She could say yes. She could very well say yes, and Greg could commence part two of his master plan and begin to woo her. 

But the words had left his mind. He spent the last week planning his speech (“Luce, do you want to go to prom with me?”), but now, it wouldn’t come out. Greg kept gaping like a fish, probably audibly gasping, but Lucy hadn’t turned her head yet.

Greg had always considered himself fairly confident. Perhaps he didn’t have Anthony’s suave charm or Benedict’s genuine grin or Colin’s brand of cheekiness, but he was confident and charming in his own right. He was boyish, Kate told him, and he knew his smile wasn’t too bad.

But around Lucy, he felt different. He felt more comfortable than he ever had, yes, but he also felt nervous. Every nerve in his body came to life, and he felt like he was on fire. But Greg was also incredibly worried about how Lucy would react, and if she would even be open to this whole thing.

Behind his own head, Lucy sighed and rolled over. “I love Bake Off,” she told him, propping herself up on her elbows. “It makes baking seem so easy. I’m a shit baker.”

“Really?” Greg asked as he rolled himself over to look into her eyes. “You seem like you would be a fantastic baker.”

“What does it take to be a fantastic baker?”

“You like managing,” Greg pointed out. “Baking is all about precision and accuracy. I thought that’s something you’d be good at.”

“I guess,” Lucy gave a small shrug of her shoulders. “Maybe I just haven’t found the right recipe yet. I’ve just never really enjoyed it.”

“Do you want to make some cookies? Mum has a choc chip recipe around here somewhere. It’s pretty easy, and it’s my favorite.” Greg let himself get a bit excited. They could bake cookies, and while they were in the oven, he could ask her. Then, he could celebrate with cookies. Or mourn, with cookies. Either way he would have a consolation. 

Lucy grinned at him. “Can you really make choc chip cookies without a chaperone?”

He let out a mock gasp. “I have known how to work the oven since I was ten, thank you! It’s Anthony and Daphne who are a bit slow on that uptake.”

Lucy laughed brightly. “If you think you can handle it, sure. I will warn you, though, I won’t be much help. I can hand you things.”

“You can be my wonderful assistant,” Greg smiled back at her. He pushed himself off the couch and pulled Lucy up by her hand. “Let’s make some cookies, babes.”

It very quickly became apparent why Lucy was not good at baking. Firstly, she mixed up many of the ingredients. Salt with sugar and baking powder with soda, Lucy seemed to immediately forget what she was doing once she looked away from the recipe. Secondly, she seemed to throw things everywhere . Greg himself was not a clean baker, but Lucy somehow ended up with flour in her hair, even though she barely did more than spoon it into a bowl. Greg tried his best to keep her on task, and to look closely at what she was doing, but it was difficult and ultimately impossible. He sat Lucy down on a bar stool next to him and allowed her to look on as he hacked at the thick dough with his wooden spoon. 

Once the chocolate chips were added, Greg figured there was little else they could do to mess up. “You could help me portion them out,” he suggested to Lucy, locating his mother’s well-loved baking sheet. “We can’t possibly mess that up.”

Soon enough, they had a dozen or so unevenly sized cookies on the baking sheet. They were not the prettiest assortment, but they were edible, and that was all Greg really cared about.

Once the cookies were safely in the oven and a timer was set, he turned back toward Lucy, still perched on her bar stool and smiling softly back at him.

“Do you want to go to prom with me, Luce?” Gregory blurted before his mind caught up to his mouth. It was not the most eloquent of ways he could have phrased the question, but he was overwhelmed by the comfortable way Lucy sat in his kitchen, backlit by the sun and happy. She looked soft and warm, and Greg barely resisted the urge to gather her up in his arms and run away to some place where they could be happy together.

“Prom?” Lucy asked, her mouth quirked into a confused smile. “I thought you were planning to ask Hermione to prom. Is that not what we’ve been planning for these last few weeks?”

“We haven’t made a plan in a week, and you know it,” Greg grumbled, unable to stop himself from pointing it out. “I don’t want to ask Hermione anymore. I want to ask you . So will you go with me, Lucy?”

“Why?” Lucy’s smile was gone. Instead, she now bared a small frown, and Greg’s heart broke a little bit.

“Because I want to, Lucy,” he told her, trying to put some of the emotion he was feeling into his voice. Though he felt like pouring out his feelings right then and there, Greg tried his best to keep his cards close to his chest. The last thing he needed to do was scare Lucy away too quickly. “All this planning made me decide that Hermione and I won’t really fit. We’re just too different. So now I want to go to prom with my best friend,” or future girlfriend, he hoped. “Will you?”

Slowly, Lucy’s frown changed. Her face moved into a beaming grin, the biggest smile Greg had ever seen on her face. “Of course I’ll go with you, Greg. I could never say no to you, not really. When did you change your mind?”

He shrugged. “The last few days. I had a bit of realization that Hermione probably isn’t the one for me. I think I liked the idea of her, but not really her, if that makes sense? I don’t really know her.”

Lucy nodded earnestly. “That makes sense, I guess. But why me? You have dozens of other girls practically drooling for the chance to go to prom with you.”

Greg had to stop himself from huffing. “Because I want to go with you , Lucinda Abernathy. Even when you get on my last nerve. Truthfully, I’m not sure I can really imagine going with anyone but you. You’re the only one I would really have fun with.”

“Heartwarming, truly,” Lucy told him with a roll of her eyes. “I just don’t want to go if this is a whole pity thing. I don’t need a prom date to be happy and whole, you know.”

“I know, Lucy.”

“So as long as you aren’t asking me out of pity.”

“I’m asking you because you’re wonderful, Lucy.” Greg let his voice soften, and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching over and grasping her hand. “You’re beautiful and lovely and the most amazing person I have the joy of knowing. It’s only right to ask you. It just makes sense.”

And it did. The idea of Lucy, of loving Lucy and wanting to be with Lucy, just felt right. Benedict said that love hit him like a lightning strike; one moment it wasn’t there, the next it was. Colin swore that it crept up on him, slowly, until that was the only thing he could imagine doing. Anthony said it was something that always seemed to be there, haunting the back of his mind until he was forced to see it. 

Greg rather thought love settled onto him like a comfortable blanket. One moment it wasn’t there, the next it was, and he could sit warmly in it. His love for Lucy wasn’t there, then it was, and now there was no other way he could picture it.

Gregory Bridgerton rather thought he was made to love Lucy Abernathy, even if she didn’t know it yet.

Small tears welled in Lucy’s eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Greg,” she told him in a soft voice. “Truly. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

He pulled her closer by the hand he was holding, and he held her close. Greg had never noticed before just how perfectly Lucy fit into his arms; she fit there like she was meant to. It would be so easy to lean down and capture her lips into his, but Gregory restrained himself. He did allow a small kiss onto the top of her head, though, just to reassure himself that she was there and he could have her, if only for just a moment.

The oven timer beeped in their ear, startling the pair from their embrace. Lucy jumped away from him, her cheeks looking nearly blistered in their pink.

“I forgot about the cookies,” she blurted with a nervous laugh, tucking a golden strand of hair behind her ear. 

“I didn’t,” Greg answered brightly. He couldn’t stop the smile that had spread across his face, grinning nearly ear to ear. He pulled open a drawer near the oven for the mits, then carefully removed the cookies from the oven. “So what color are we wearing to prom?” he asked Lucy with a cheeky grin once he had procured the cookies.

To her credit, Lucy just rolled her eyes.

-

The next day, Gregory called together his brothers the only way he knew how: by text.

brother meeting tn at 7. be there or im telling hy who broke her ds

And true to their natures, and their fear of Hyacinth Bridgerton, Anthony, Benedict, and Colin were seated on the sectionals at Bridgerton House at seven o’clock that night.

(Kate, Sophie, and Penelope, in their own true natures, had tagged along, but they were taking tea with Violet, somewhere far away from the boys.)

Gregory stood himself tall in front of his brothers, trying to look old enough to be taken seriously. Oftentimes his brothers, who were more than ten years his senior and very much concerned with their “adult lives,” neglected to take him seriously; Greg was the kid brother, the one who couldn’t have real problems because he was still a child.

But he was very nearly an adult. And he was still their brother.

And he needed his brother’s help to woo Lucy.

“So, I assume you’re all wondering why I gathered you here tonight,” Greg told them ominously, using his most impressive voice. 

Colin let out a groan. “I’m not wondering,” he grumbled. “You bribbed us here for something. What do you need, Greg?”

“Don’t be rude, Col,” Benedict scolded, nudging his brother lightly.

“I’ll be rude all I want. Pen and I were supposed to have a movie night.”

“You live together,” Anthony reminded him. “You can have a movie night any night.”

“It’s all about-”

“Alright!” Greg raised his voice to a yell to be heard over his brothers’ increasingly loud voices. “I asked you all here because I needed your help, but now I’m reconsidering.” Part of him wanted to slink away back to his room, to figure out how to woo Lucy himself. Asking for his brothers’ advice was always going to be a nightmare; the trio was more likely to bicker over each other than give their baby brother any attention.

“You need our help?” Anthony asked softly, looking kindly at Greg. He distantly noticed that the voices had quieted, and Colin and Benedict were looking at him with equally shocked expressions on their faces.

“You never ask us for help,” Benedict told him in the same quiet tone.

“Well, I’m asking now,” Greg huffed a bit, embarrassed. “It has to do with Lucy.”

“I don’t think you need our help with Lucy, mate,” Colin snorted.

“What does that mean?” Greg scowled.

“It means-” his brother stopped when Benedict whacked him around the head.

“Enough, Col,” Benedict warned him. “What do you need our help with, Greg? You and Lucy seem pretty sorted, was all he meant.”

“Lucy and I are not sorted .” Describing this situation to his brothers was much more difficult than explaining it to Kate, but he tried to keep it brief. “Basically, I like Lucy, a lot, but she has a soulmate who is not me. I asked her to prom, instead of Hermione, and now I need to show her that I’m serious about her and I really like her. I’m going to tell her how I feel at prom, but I kinda want to, you know, woo her first.” Greg let all the words fall from his mouth in one breath, undoubtedly rambling, but he knew his brothers could keep up with him. At least mostly.

“Wait, Hermione Watson?” Benedict asked, confused.

Greg just nodded impatiently.

“Did you really like Hermione? The two of you could not possibly be more different.”

“This isn’t about Hermione, Ben.” Greg’s voice came out embarrassingly like a whine. “This is about Lucy. I like Lucy. I love Lucy, even. I just wanted some ideas on how to woo her a bit before prom, to show her how I feel. That’s all.”

Greg plopped himself down on the far end of the couch, far away from where his brothers were sat. He let his head fall back to prop on the back of the couch and sighed, feeling stupid that he had caved and asked for help in the first place.

He was never one to ask for help, and it fit that the first thing he found important enough to ask for help his brothers would take the mickey out of the entire time.

“Gregory,” Anthony said softly. The use of his full name and Anthony’s tone startled Greg out of his head. “Thank you for coming to us.”

“We know it’s not something to take lightly,” Benedict added. “You don’t come for help very often.”

“We know how much it means,” came Colin’s voice. “Is there anything you can think of that you wanted to do?”

“Not really,” Greg shrugged. “All I could think of was the cliche stuff they do in dumb American movies. Notes in lockers, flowers, rides to school. Stuff like that. But it all feels kinda stupid.”

“I don’t think that’s stupid,” Benedict answered him. Since Benedict was arguably the most romantic of his brothers, Greg sat up and looked at him. “It’s cliche because people do it fairly often, but people do it because it works. Do you think that’s something Lucy might enjoy?”

Greg thought for a moment. The Lucy in his head had loved his attention, in any capacity. He had dreamed up a world where she loved whatever he would do, even if it was stupid or missed the mark. “I think she would,” Greg said slowly. “Lucy likes when people show they care. I don’t think she would care much what I did, as long as it was heartfelt.”

“Just take her feelings into account,” Anthony reminded him. “Don’t plan any grand gestures if that isn’t something that Lucy would like or be comfortable with.”

Colin winced. “Thanks for that, Ant.”

“It wasn’t aimed at you!” Anthony defended himself. “It was a general statement. We’re all prone to grand declarations when we love someone. I’m just reminding him to consider if Lucy is into public gestures before he plans something of the sort.”

“Lucy wouldn’t like a public thing.” Greg shook his head vehemently. “She likes staying in the background a bit. All that attention would just embarrass her.”

“Good, so you know,” Anthony agreed, nodding. “So what shall we do, then?”

Greg finally let the grin spread across his face. “Well, I had a few ideas.”

-

Two hours later, Greg and his brothers had planned out a plan to woo Lucy so thorough that it spanned every day of the next three weeks, until the day before prom. 

“Thank you,” he told his brothers sincerely. “I don’t think I could have gotten this done without you.”

“We’re your brothers, Greg,” Anthony pointed out. “You don’t have to thank us. I’m proud that you asked for help in the first place.”

“I just want it all to go perfectly,” Greg said quietly. “I really like Lucy. I couldn’t have done this without your help.”

“Probably not,” Colin agreed cheekily. “Our wooing expertise was absolutely necessary. But now you’ve got it, Greggy boy, and Lucy will be falling into your arms before you know it.” Benedict just nodded his head in agreement.

“Still, I’m grateful.” He gathered up the various notecards that littered the coffee table, all with ideas and suggestions for Greg’s plans. “You didn’t have to take time out of your night for me.”

“We did, though,” Benedict answered seriously. “You’re our brother. Our little brother, yes, but our brother nonetheless. Bridgerton brothers have to stick together.”

Greg couldn’t help himself. The childish part of his brain allowed him to throw himself down onto his brothers, gathering them into a large hug. “I love you, brothers. I don’t say it enough, but I do.”

“We love you too,” Colin said with a cough. “Can you get off of us, please? You’re a lot heavier than you were the last time you did this.”

Greg squeezed his brothers just a bit harder before he climbed off their laps. “I think I need to go write some notes, then. I’ll keep you updated on Operation Lucy.”

“Please do,” Anthony asked him. 

He let himself stand over his brothers for a second more. Greg truly had the best brothers, the best family. Sometimes, it truly was good to be a Bridgerton.

Greg turned on his heel and made his way back to his room. He had notes to write and flowers to collect.

He let himself have a bit of confidence. His brothers were sure of him, so Greg could be sure of himself. He would win Lucy’s heart with this, he knew it in his bones. 

Chapter Text

On Monday morning, Gregory Bridgerton set his plan into action. 

The night before, he had spent a bit of time raiding his mother’s garden. Though Bridgerton House’s garden was nowhere near as expansive as that of Aubrey Hall, it was still nothing to scoff at, and it boasted many of his mother’s favorite (and most difficult to obtain) flowers. So, rather than spend the allowance his mother and Anthony so dutifully agreed on, he waited until the sun had set a bit and began to snoop around the garden with a pair of scissors.

Greg tried to keep his flower cutting to a minimum. They were going in Lucy’s locker, after all, and he didn’t know her opinions on flowers well enough to have the guts to procure her an entire bouquet.

(In a few months, he promised himself.)

So Monday morning, after a car ride full of Hyacinth’s heckling, Greg walked into school with two (haha) white hyacinth flowers and a small note tucked into his backpack. He had forced his sister to leave a full fifteen minutes before they usually would so that he could definitely be there before Lucy.

Greg’s plan that morning was not very brave. He planned to tuck the flowers and his small note into Lucy’s locker and hide until the bell rang in order to not see her reaction. Afterwards, once he knew exactly how this was going to work out, he would do it in person. For now, Greg planned to save his pride. 

Anthony helped him pen the note. It was simple, and only vaguely flirtatious, but it was all Greg could stomach to give her at the moment. 

White hyacinths for you, because everyone deserves to be given flowers. Can you guess their meaning?

Yours, Greg

Once he saw how she took this, he promised himself he would be braver. Today was merely the warm up, to give Lucy the attention she deserved. Tomorrow, he would begin to lay on the charm and woo her.

Thankfully, Lucy being a year younger than Gregory himself made it fairly easy to hide from her. He debated between hiding in his homeroom and the bathroom, trying to decide which would be less pathetic. Greg finally landed on his homeroom and, after delicately placing the flowers and the note in Lucy’s locker, slinked off in that direction to pretend he wasn’t as anxious as he felt. 

Twenty minutes after he settled into his seat and put his head into his hands, Greg received a text from Lucy.

do u know anything about this? [image attached]

The picture was of Lucy, with the flowers pressed against her face, looking confused. Greg’s mouth went a little dry at the sight, and he saved the picture quickly, before he could think too much about it.

i might , he texted back.

where are u? came Lucy’s response.

homeroom. see you at lunch?

Lucy texted back her affirmative, and Greg was happy that he had the opportunity to wait until lunch to get himself together. He tried to remember his brothers’ advice: be honest, to her and yourself. Don’t give away too much at first, but let her know that you’re serious. Greg could do that.

By lunch time, Greg was sure of two things: he had heard absolutely nothing in any of his classes to that point, and he was being absolutely ridiculous.

This was Lucy . Lucy, who fit into Greg’s life so well it was almost unreal. They hadn’t known each other for all that long, but she knew him, down to his bones and all the absurd things he had never told anyone else. Being nervous over her reaction was absurd; she knew him, and he knew her.

Greg and Lucy were meant to be together. This was just him showing her why. 

When he arrived in the cafeteria, Greg followed his usual procedures. He bought his own lunch, purchased Lucy’s favorite juice, and took a seat at what he’s begun to think of as their picnic table, outside and far away from their peers. Greg let himself fidget for a moment, before he caught sight of Lucy approaching him. She had her lunch in her hands and a crooked smile on her face. Greg melted just a little.

“So,” Lucy began without preamble. “What was up with the flowers in my locker this morning?”

Greg took a deep breath and steadied what was left of his nerves. This was Lucy . “Exactly what the note said,” he tried with a nonchalant shrug. “Everyone deserves to be given flowers. I thought it was past time I gave you some.”

“Trying out a new wooing technique for Hermione?” She asked with a quirk of her eyebrow. But Lucy’s eyes, for once, avoided Greg’s; she looked down at the sandwich that sat in front of her, picking resolutely at the wrap around it.

“Lucy,” he said her name softly, enjoying the way the syllables rolled off his tongue, “didn’t we talk about this the other day? I don’t really want to ask Hermione anymore. I don’t think we would fit.”

“Right,” she said slowly, “because you can go from as obsessed as you were with her to absolute nonchalant, uninterested feelings in a weekend. I believe you.” Lucy’s eyes rolled at Greg’s antics. She clearly did not believe him.

“I’m serious!” Greg whined. “I thought I liked Hermione, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized how little we actually fit. I don’t want to ask her anymore, Luce. I want to go to prom with you .”

“So the flowers and the card, then?”

He shrugged again. “I wanted to. I like you, Lucy.” Greg tried to put as much force behind his words as possible, knowing that Lucy probably wouldn’t even consider anything but a friendly meaning. It meant so much more to him, though. “You deserve it. So there. And I’ll keep doing it every day until prom until you finally get it through your mind how much I like you.”

Lucy’s cheeks flushed, but she let out a small scoff. “Sure, Greg. Whatever you say. Can I have my juice now, please?”

And so Greg and Lucy continued on being Greg and Lucy. They laughed and joked throughout lunch, debating the merits of Lucy’s ham sandwich versus Greg’s peanut butter one. Lucy’s smile became a permanent fixture on her face, and it warmed his heart. Hyacinth, from across the yard, shot Greg a stupid look, but he brushed it off. For now, he had all Lucy’s attention, and she had his, and he was happy enough to bask in it. 

By the end of the day, he thought he had made a good step. He sought Lucy out one more time at the end of the day, ready to push her buttons once more.

“So, what flowers would you like tomorrow?” he asked with a cheeky grin. Greg artfully arranged himself against the locker next to Lucy’s and then tried not to fall over when she gave his shoulder a shove. 

“Don’t be daff,” she warned. “No more flowers. No more notes. This feels too romancy.”

“Maybe it’s supposed to be romancy,” he pouted, using a defensive tone.

“Do you want to be romancy with me?” Lucy asked him with a raised eyebrow.

“I might.”

Lucy’s eyebrows jumped nearly to her hairline, and her mouth dropped into a gape. “Greg?”

For his part, Greg just shot her another cheeky grin and a small shrug. “So what flowers, then?”

Lucy continued to gape at him, but, eventually, her mouth turned into a lopsided smile. “Tulips,” she told him decisively, raising her chin in a clear challenge. She had no idea. 

Greg would fly to Holland this afternoon if he had to in order to get Lucy those flowers.

(Thankfully, his mother, or Anthony, imported tulips for her garden from Holland, so there was no need to get on a plane.)

“Done and done,” Greg promised, nodding his head toward her. Before his nerves could get the best of him, he leaned down and placed a quick kiss on Lucy’s cheek. “See you tomorrow, Luce,” he murmured in her ear before turning away. 

It took every bit of his will power not to turn around and check to see if Lucy’s cheeks had flushed like his had. But thankfully, Hyacinth was standing at the other end of the hallway. She promised that Lucy went the reddest she had ever seen someone, and it settled something in his chest.

Now, on to work on the next note. 

-

Every day for the next two weeks, Greg worked dutifully to make sure that Lucy had a new flower in her locker and a new note to ruminate over. The flowers he chose mostly by request; though Anthony had given him a lengthy email rundown, Greg didn’t have the patience for flower meanings, and he doubted Lucy did either. The notes, however, ranged anywhere from romantic bits of poetry (that Benedict either wrote himself or picked out for Greg to use) or things like your eyes make me want to vomit (in a good way) . 

Greg rather liked the second kind of note, he had to admit. 

Lucy, for her part, was rather coming around to the whole “wooing” idea. She no longer vehemently opposed the idea, but as of the Friday before prom, thought of them more as a fun little joke rather than the romantic attempt that it was. But Greg would much prefer that than anything else. 

Friday, the day before prom, Greg abruptly stopped his notes. Frankly, he had run out of halfway romantic things to say without fully spilling his guts to Lucy, so he stopped the notes with the idea of leaving her in suspense. It must have worked; Lucy trotted up to him at lunch with the rose that he left in her locker that morning tucked behind her light hair and a confused smile on her face. 

“No note today, Greggy?” she asked with a quirked eyebrow.

“I’ve asked you not to call me that,” he nearly whined. Despite his sudden mood, Greg pushed her juice he had bought over to her side of the table.

“But it’s so fun to see you pout.” Lucy ruffled his hair a bit over the table, and Greg knew his cheeks were bright. “The note?”

“No note,” Greg confirmed with a shake of his head. “Wanted to leave you wanting more. I still need things to woo you with tomorrow, too.”

“Are you ever going to tell me why you’re really doing this?” she asked with a suspicious glance. Lucy, per usual, was a bit more focused on her sandwich than she was Greg, but he didn’t mind.

“I’ve told you, Luce,” he repeated patiently, shoving a crisp into his mouth. “I want to. All will be revealed tomorrow, I assure you.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that I will tell you. Tomorrow . At prom. Let me be a bit romantic, for once.” Greg let himself reach across the table to Lucy’s hand that wasn’t preoccupied with her lunch, first to pat it reassuringly, then grasp it. “It’s good, Luce. Or I think it is. You might think differently, I suppose.”

“I don’t like not knowing things, Greg,” Lucy reminded him. “Can you not just tell me now? I feel like this is some big joke.”

“No!” he nearly shouted. “No, Lucy. It isn’t a joke. I’ve been doing this because I want to. I want to show you how I feel. Just… let me wait until tomorrow, okay? I want this to be a perfect moment.”

“You know,” Lucy started, smiling gently, “when you tell me that you want to say how you feel, you kind of give me some sort of idea how that might be.”

He very nearly rolled his eyes. “Don’t really care,” he said decisively. Greg squeezed Lucy’s hand for a moment, then let it go. “Think anything you want. I’ll give you confirmation tomorrow.”

“You’re an idiot,” she told him fondly. 

Greg just nodded his head. “Yeah, I am. So how is your day going?”

-

The next morning, Greg woke with the worst set of butterflies he had ever experienced. His stomach was turning over itself to the point that he was ready to throw up, and his mother’s knowing smile and Hyacinth’s gleeful grin were doing nothing to aid it.

“Sleep well, dear?” Violet asked as she pushed his typical Saturday morning pancakes down the island at him. 

“You look like you slept wonderfully,” Hyacinth pointed out with a snicker. He was sure the bags under his eyes were what alerted his sister to his sleepless night, but he still didn’t appreciate it. 

“Absolutely wonderfully,” Greg grumbled as he sat down. “Why are you two up so early?” Hyacinth, for her part, was rarely seen before noon on the weekends. Although Greg knew that his sister was an early riser, she left her room before lunch only on special occasions. Today seems to be one of those.

“It’s prom!” his mother exclaimed, as if it was obvious. “You two need a good breakfast, and it will be time for pictures before you know it! Lucy is coming here, isn’t she, Greg? And Hyacinth, Gareth is coming too?”

“Gareth St. Clair?” Greg gasped, turning toward his sister. “You’re going with Gareth? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Hyacinth’s face flushed a remarkable shade of red. “You’ve been a bit preoccupied with your own drama,” she reminded him. “I’ve got things handled.”

He glanced toward Violet, who was looking between her children gleefully, and turned back to Hyacinth. Greg tried to give her a look that clearly meant ‘we will talk about this later,’ but his sister turned away. 

Greg grumbled to himself but ate his breakfast in quiet, letting his sister and mother carry the bulk of the conversation. Violet was chatting happily about different hairstyles Hyacinth could have and different ways she could do her makeup. Ever argumentative, his sister was quick to give her own opinions. Greg let their voices become quiet background chatter as he sank deeper into his thoughts.

What was Lucy wearing? She hadn’t given him any clues as to what her dress looked like; she only helped him pick out a tie that was a stunning green. He hoped it matched her dress. 

A little desperately, Greg hoped that Lucy decided to wear her hair down. Her light curls made him feel a little feral when they brushed over her shoulders. He would like to run his fingers through them, just to see Lucy’s face while he did it. 

Greg choked a bit on his pancakes and decided, for his own safety, to turn his mind back toward his mother and sister. They were still chatting mildly about trivial things and thankfully paying no mind to him. 

Quickly, he finished his breakfast and exited the room before his mother or Hyacinth could mention anything else to him. Greg needed the day to get himself together and to plan his speech for tonight. The time to himself was absolutely necessary.

He did need to talk to Hyacinth about Gareth St. Clair, though.

-

Several hours and a frantic phone call with Anthony later found Gregory standing in the foyer of Bridgerton House pulling anxiously on his tie and waiting for Lucy to knock on the door. Gareth had arrived nearly a half hour before with flowers for Violet and a bright smile and kiss on the cheek for Hyacinth; Greg had to begrudge that maybe he wasn’t so bad. 

Lucy was running late, later than Gareth, who arrived ten minutes after their agreed time with flowers and an apologetic smile. It was nearing the time they needed to leave for the dance itself, and Greg had taken up pacing in her absence.

Violet tried her best to calm her son down but quickly gave up in favor of letting him let off steam. Greg had texted Lucy at least twice, but she had yet to answer.

This was not at all going to plan. Greg had a truly brilliant idea of what his evening was going to go like: Lucy would arrive, his jaw would hit the floor, he would spend the night trailing after Lucy’s every step and trying to keep even an ounce of her attention, until he would finally pull her away to some halfway romantic location where he could confess every thought that had crossed his mind in the last few weeks. The one problem, though, was that he needed Lucy to show up first.

Greg was grabbing his keys to go search the roads for Lucy when there was a knock at the door. He raced to the door and yanked it open to find Lucy standing there, smiling sheepishly and looking nervous.

“Luce,” he breathed as a giant sigh of relief. “I was worried.”

“There was… a crisis,” Lucy said as a way of apology. “But I’m here now. Can we get a few pictures and then leave?”

“Of course,” Greg agreed automatically. He took a moment to look her over, not moving from the doorway. Lucy’s hair softly curled over her shoulders and shone in the porch light like spun gold. Her dress was a deep emerald green that, he was happy to observe, matched his tie exactly. They would look properly together tonight, and it gave him butterflies. This would be the night, he was sure. 

-

The prom, as it turned out, was not the romantic scenery that Gregory pictured it to be. It was nice, for sure. Someone has gone to the trouble of ordering a thousand balloons and stringing streamers and covering the brick walls with a fairly elaborate wallpaper, but they were still in the school’s gym. The floor was a little sticky, and the smell was musky. 

It was decidedly not the garden party that the prom committee advertised.

But when they walked into the gym, Lucy’s face lit up into a smile. She looked happy to be there, chatting with Hyacinth with a familiarity Greg didn’t know they had. And the low lighting somehow made her hair and eyes shine brighter. There were probably hundreds of people in this gym, but Lucy was the only one Greg could see.

He had to resist the urge to drop to his knees right then and profess his feelings. Lucy deserved at least a dance, first.

“It’s so pretty in here,” Lucy remarked just loud enough for Greg to hear.

“You’re so pretty,” Greg blurted back before he could stop himself. He felt his cheeks flush, but he didn’t let himself look away from Lucy’s widened eyes. “I’m so happy you chose me to go with, Luce.”

Gregory saw the moment she considered deflecting. It was in her wide eyes and gaping mouth. She looked past him at first, then settled her eyes back on his. “I’m really glad you asked me and not Hermione, Greg,” Lucy almost whispered.

He couldn’t help the smile that split across his face. “Let’s dance, then?” He suggested, grabbing her by the hand.

And so they danced. Greg had no idea how long they spent doing so; it could have been years from the way his feet ached. He couldn’t find it in himself to care, though. Lucy had shed her shoes within the first song, and since then, he wasn’t sure their hands had ever separated. They jumped and danced, and Lucy even let Greg try out some of his posh, fancy dance lessons that he had never used. She coerced him into a pseudo-swing dance. It was brilliant.

Gregory Bridgerton was only sixteen years old, but he wasn’t sure he had ever felt so happy and carefree as he did in that moment with Lucy Abernathy.

Eventually, though, their energy levels waned, and the anxiety overtook Greg again. It was now, his heart told him as it fluttered in his chest. He should find somewhere to tell her now.

Maybe with a snack in hand , his stomach rumbled.

That, he could do.

And so Gregory led Lucy first over to the snack table, picking out several cookies and a bottle of water for each of them, and then he led them out of the gym and into the small science garden that found its home beside it. It wasn’t much; there were no thousands of flowers, like he wanted, or even fairy lights, but it was something that could hopefully do the moment justice.

Or, he thought disparagingly, if Lucy rejected him, he could avoid like the plague.

There was a small stone bench in the garden, just big enough for the two of them to sit thigh-to-thigh. Lucy’s smile never faltered as the two sat down and Greg passed her a cookie.

“What do you think, Luce?” Greg asked her softly. The moment was so precious that it felt wrong to speak any louder than a whisper.

“About the dance?” Lucy responded in an almost dreamy tone. “It’s wonderful, Greg. I’m having so much fun.”

“Good. You deserve to have the best prom.” Gregory passed her one of the cookies he had snagged her unoccupied hand. “Lucy,” he started, but he didn’t get very far before she stopped him.

“Greg, I don’t think I’ve ever told you how much I like you,” Lucy told him with a small smile. She squeezed his hand. “You’ve really become my best friend in these last few months.”

“You’re my best friend, too, Luce,” Greg told her honestly, and he squeezed her hand back. “I want to tell you something else, though. I know you’ve probably already guessed by all the flowers and notes of the last few weeks, but I really, really like you, Luce. I’m sorry I’ve spent all this time obsessing about Hermione and thinking she was my soulmate. That really couldn’t be any further from the truth, and it blinded me to you, Lucy.”

“Greg,” Lucy tried to interrupt, but he wouldn’t let her.

“You’re just so wonderful,” Greg blabbered on. “I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. But it hit me like a ton of bricks, and I can’t imagine anyone but you , Lucy. You’re so caring, and your heart is so big. I even like your dumb sandwich opinions. All I want is to be the person that can care for you, like you do everyone else. I know I may sound dumb, but it’s you, Luce. I want you.”

“Gregory,” she tried again, squeezing his hand, but he continued on.

“And I don’t even care about your soulmate! That I might not be yours. You told me that we can learn to be our own people outside our soulmates, and I want to learn to do that. I want to be your person, regardless of our soulmates. I want to learn everything about you, Lucy, and you to do the same to me. I really can’t picture it any other way. You’re everything to me. So please, tell me you feel like this, too, that I’m not going crazy.”

“You’re not going crazy,” Lucy assured. “But I do wish you would stop interrupting me.”

“Sorry,” Gregory said, feeling a little cowed. Lucy was still smiling at him, though. Even in the dim lighting, he could see her seven freckles and the dimple in her cheek. Greg scooted a bit closer, although there was nowhere for him to go, because it felt like the right thing to do.

“Greg,” Lucy started again, smiling at him shyly. “I really, really like you too.”

In that moment, Gregory felt like he was flying. He felt like he could do a backflip. He felt like he needed to go back into the gym and start screaming his love for Lucinda Abernathy and let the consequences be damned. 

He wanted to hold her. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to put his hands in her perfectly curled hair and look into her eyes and lay her gently down on the stone bench and ---

And maybe the line of thinking should stop there, because Lucy was opening her mouth again to speak.

“Do you want to see my soulmate mark?” she asked him. Greg was floored.

Gregory always talked about soulmates. His parents were the truest type, according to his mother and his siblings. Greg had no memories of the two of them together, but he could feel the love the pair had for one another through the way that she spoke of his father, and he wanted that.

He was still rather young when Daphne and Simon met each other, but Greg saw how the pair looked at one another. Benedict and Colin both became mushy messes when Sophie and Penelope were around, attending to their every need and never leaving their sides. Gregory could see his brothers’ feelings painted across their faces anytime their soulmates were mentioned, and he wanted that.

And Anthony and Kate. Oh, the pair of them. Gregory was sure that theirs was the perfect match. The two softened each others sharp edges, and they balanced each other out perfectly. Kate was quickwitted, and the two bickered constantly, but there was never any malice in the arguments between the two. Kate and Anthony managed each other in just the right way, and their love was so fierce Gregory knew it must be all consuming. And he wanted that, so badly.

Gregory Bridgerton always talked about soulmates, because he knew the kind of love that could exist with them, but Lucy never did. She only spoke of her own soulmate to tell him that she knew who he was and his feelings toward her were nothing, and that was the end of the story.

Now, Greg hoped selfishly that it would stay that way. He knew he could love her in the way she deserved, whether he was her soulmate or not, because he had been taught so well by his siblings. He didn’t need for the universe to say that he was hers, because he knew that she was his. And it was enough.

So at the question of seeing her soulmark, Greg didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see it, to know for certain in this moment that it didn’t match his own. But he also knew Lucy wouldn’t offer without good reason. So he said, “If you’re willing to show me, of course I do, Lucy.”

Lucy turned her back to him then, and slid down the shoulder of her dress, and Gregory was sure his heart was going to stop.

Because right there, on Lucy’s left shoulder, barely visible in the darkness of the garden, was Greg’s soulmark. He knew every line of that mark, every swoop, because he spent so much time committing it to memory so that he could spot his soulmate from miles away.

Lucy had been right in front of him this whole time, and he hadn’t managed to do that. It didn’t matter anymore, though, because he was here now, and Lucy Abernathy had his soulmark .

“Lucy?” Greg gaped. He knew he should probably come up with something better than that, but his brain was whirling at the soulmark and her bare shoulder, and Gregory remembered quickly that he was still just a sixteen year old boy.

“You’re my soulmate, Greg,” she told him as she turned around, with a small smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, but you’ve been so obsessed with Hermione, and---”

Gregory didn’t care. Nothing else mattered, because he was Lucy’s. He vowed then and there that at the end of the day, that fact would be the only one that ever mattered. 

So with a full heart and a cold arse, Gregory Bridgerton reached his hand to the back of Lucy Abernathy’s neck and pulled her into what must have been the best (and first) kiss of his life. And he really couldn’t imagine anything better.