Work Text:
It wasn’t quiet when I bounded down the stairs, but the noise was far-off. Kipps was complaining to Holly about the cupboard doors, something about their fit, and being met with mild-mannered rebukes. George’s whistling floated throughout the house.
I shook my head and came down to the bottom of the stairs, hoping Lockwood had not found my delay too long and gone off on his own.
He hadn’t. I saw him standing in the entrance hall, looking at blank wall as if contemplating what new décor should go on it. I paused a second on the stairs, resting a hand on the necklace at my throat, then dropped it away and finished walking down, hopefully managing not to blush furiously.
He turned as soon as he heard me, grinning. “Lucy,” he breathed, eyes dropping to the necklace. Red crawled up his pale throat and he swallowed. “I see you…signed those papers.”
I shook my head. “Not yet.”
“Ah.” His dark eyes flicked up to mine, the light in them threatening to take my breath away. “Shall we? The sun won’t be up long.”
I nodded, struggling to think of words.
Lockwood opened the door for me and followed me out, past the bell and the iron gate. We halted in front of the house, looking back.
“It’s coming together,” he said.
“It had better. We’ve certainly put a lot of work into it.”
We stood there, looking at the house. I wanted, desperately, to look at him. The necklace felt like a star at my throat.
Somewhere inside, Kipps hollered a string of curses; another hammer incident. The sound snapped us out of it and we finally looked at each other, smiling in amusement.
“At this rate, he’ll take longer to recover from our home repair than his wound,” I said, “We really should have given him the painting.”
“George would never hear of it,” Lockwood said. He looked down at my hand for a moment, then reached out to grab it. Our fingers interlaced. “I’m sure Holly has it managed. Come on.”
We set off, hand-in-hand. The ghost lamps had started flashing and children were being steadily, lazily herded inside.
“Lockwood,” I said, hesitating, “Are we headed to go…to go see your family?”
He hadn’t stopped smiling at me- or I at him, to be honest- and didn’t stop now, but he paused a step. “No. Not at this hour. Later, perhaps, during the day. Or not.”
“Then where…?”
“Just a walk, Luce. Together.”
“Oh.” I looked at our joined hands. “And with your new coat.”
“Yes.”
We stopped, some unspoken choice we made together. We were, in fact, within sight of Marylebone Cemetery. Lockwood turned to me, his back to that unseen empty grave. Our hands remained linked.
“You know,” he began, pausing, “It’s strange. Everything. And I’m not sure what to make of it. I never was. With you.”
I’m certain I gaped at him like a caught fish.
“Luce, please don’t make me say that again. Whatever it was I said.”
“With…me?”
He laughed. His free hand lifted to the sapphire at my throat. “Yes, Lucy Carlyle. Somewhere along the way, I…” He choked on the words, but I saw them on his face.
I swallowed and nodded. “Same, Lockwood.” Relief flooded through me. It wasn’t quite putting a name to it—someday, and perhaps even someday soon- but I felt like I had finally taken some leap I had been on the edge of making for a long time and had landed safely on the other side.
His smile became a grin, then, victorious and inviting. His hand lifted from the sapphire to cup my jaw. I tilted my head up. His eyes flicked to my lips, then back up.
It was a small, sweet kiss, strange and new to both of us. We had known death and violence, depravity and horror, but this was a thing from some other life.
I don’t think we were a very elegant pair right then. We didn’t let go of each other’s hands. I grabbed his arm, possibly too hard, while he kept his hand on my jaw. Our height difference meant that I had to stand on tiptoe and he had to bend down.
It didn’t matter though. He smelled like iron and salt and his new coat and some specifically Lockwood scent that I knew meant safety and courage. The heat of him kindled an answering, tingling fire in me, all along my spine and settling in my belly.
We separated when a ghost-lamp came on, laughing, but didn't go far. “It’s getting dark,” he said, resting his forehead against mine. I had never seen his eyes so close before; they were wonderful. “We should be getting home.”
I nodded slowly. “Should have brought our swords.”
He chuckled and kissed me again, quickly, I think just to prove to himself that he could. “I think this was really the best way to break in my new coat.”
I laughed and pulled him back towards home.