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one.
“Lucy!” His cry is guttural.
She doesn’t hear him. She’s still following the Visitor—ghost-locked. Lockwood throws himself out of the iron circle and races after her. He can’t let her die, he just can’t . George isn’t with them and he knows that he’s screwed if he doesn’t get to Lucy soon.
“Lucy!” His shout falls on deaf ears. His heart is pounding in his throat and he’s running as fast as possible and he’s hoping and praying to a God he doesn’t believe in to let him get to her before it’s too late. “Lucy, please !”
He watches as she freezes for a moment, so he continues his efforts, quickly gaining ground on her and screaming her name loudly. Lucy stays standing there and he watches as the ghost has stopped moving forward and has begun to turn.
No, no, no ! Lockwood reaches her just in time, tackling her out of the way as the ghost surges forward. Lucy’s now staring at him, eyes wide.
“Lockwood?” She’s confused, he thinks.
“Luce.” Her name is a prayer on his lips and he thanks the universe that she’s alive. That she’s okay and she’s alive and breathing in his arms.
He quickly throws a salt-bomb at the Visitor and the smell of burning ectoplasm wafts through the air. He throws another and another until the spirit is gone and he can breathe for once.
“Luce, we need to find the Source.” His hands are pulling her up and she’s desperately clinging to his arms. “Are you okay? If you need to leave–”
“I’m staying, Lockwood.” Her voice is firm, steady and he’s once again praising the universe. “You’re not fighting this on your own.”
“If you’re sure, Luce.” He’s giving her one last chance to back out now.
Her eyes meet his. “I’m sure.”
It’s a bit later. They found the Source—an ugly hatpin—and were getting checked out by DEPRAC’s medics. Lockwood insisted that Lucy get checked over first; his injuries are minimal and minor.
Once the medic is done and leaves, he turns toward Lucy. She’s sitting down, a wool blanket draped over her shoulders, her eyes staring at the ground.
“I’m sorry, Lockwood,” she whispers.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Luce.” Lockwood kneels down in front of her, reaching out and grasping both of her hands. “All that matters is you’re safe.”
She looks at their joined hands. A smile lets itself flicker across her face as she raises her eyes to meet him.
“We’re okay,” he breathes out and squeezes her hands.
He’s staring into her eyes and his heart is beating harshly against his ribcage. He wonders why he’s feeling this way—it’s probably just a natural reaction to Lucy almost getting hurt or ghost-touched. Lockwood’s face flushes and he begins to let his thoughts wander. He realises that he might like Lucy.
And that thought alone causes him to squeeze her hands in an unspoken promise that he’d never let her get hurt.
two.
It’s been a week since he acknowledged his feelings for Lucy. He attempts to distance himself, but Lucy’s like an earworm—he can’t get her out of his mind. Lockwood’s sitting at the table reading the morning paper (barely any coverage on their case last night) when Lucy strolls in tiredly.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” he greets as he slides over a plate of toast lathered in butter and cut into diagonals.
She mumbles a ‘thank you’ and sits down next to him. Their chairs are so close and he can feel the heat coming off of her in waves. He shifts, just a tiny bit, and his leg presses against hers. Lucy doesn’t say anything so he figures it’s okay.
They do this often—where they instinctively touch each other; it’s like they can’t stop gravitating toward each other. He doesn’t mind it though; it’s better to be near Lucy than away from her.
George joins them moments later and gives Lockwood a knowing look—one that Lockwood purposefully ignores. Lucy doesn’t notice it and finishes her plate. She glances between the two and frowns.
“Why are you two looking at each other like that?” She questions, her voice cutting through their silent conversation.
“Like what?” George said while Lockwood said: “We weren’t.”
Lockwood watches as she raises an eyebrow and he can’t help it as he reaches over and squeezes her hand with a grin. Unconsciously, Lucy grins back and squeezes his hand. Neither notice George’s eyeroll or the gagging he does before pushing back his chair and leaving.
Lockwood doesn’t realise it yet, though.
three.
It’s a rainy day. Lockwood had reluctantly cancelled their case that night—the wind was so severe they had seen someone chasing an umbrella down the street, the thunder so loud Lucy jumped every time it clapped, and the rain was like a flood. Plus, Lucy and George teamed up against him and told him they weren’t going out with the weather like that. Lockwood agreed, though it pained him, and called their client who was understanding.
So, here they were. Lockwood and Co. lounging in the library—Lockwood in his favourite armchair with his legs dangling over the armrest, Lucy on the floor sketching the Skull, and George experimenting on the Skull.
He hears Lucy laugh and looks up from his gossip rag. She’s giggling at the faces the Skull is pulling; Lockwood wrinkles his nose at a grotesque face that’s pulled when the Skull sees him staring.
George taps the surface of the jar and the face begins to mouth words at him. The lever is shut because Lucy didn’t want to deal with him in her head on their day off. George studies the face before picking it up and leaving the room with it, the promise of more experiments echoing in the room.
Lockwood stares at Lucy and speaks before he can change his mind. “Luce?”
She glances up from her sketch pad and grins at him. “Yeah?”
“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” He scratches the back of his neck.
“Sounds good,” she says with a warm smile on her face and he relaxes, wondering why he’s tense?
He finds the VCR and they set it up. Lockwood lets Lucy choose the movie and they settle down as the movie begins. They’re sitting on the couch and Lockwood leans back. Lucy follows his lead and before either of them know it, they’ve dozed off.
It seems that even in his sleep Lockwood craves Lucy’s presence—she’s the lighthouse, a bright beam in the dark that beckons him closer, beckons him to safety. They curl around one another and Lockwood finally wakes.
His heart feels so full with love as he stares at the sleeping Lucy in his arms. She’s snug in his side, her head resting on his shoulder and her arms wrapped around his waist. Lockwood smiles at the sight and brushes some of the hair out of her face. A sleepy smile flutters across her face and she shuffles closer to him.
He says nothing and closes his eyes again. Then they open again, a terrifying thought entering his head. He loves her.
four.
He doesn’t know where George is. He’s looking for him when he stumbles upon Lucy. She’s in the library reading a romance novel. Lockwood leans against the door jamb and stares at her. Her hair glints in the lamplight and he’s overcome by a feeling of adoration.
“Hey.” She notices him, giving him a small smile before returning her gaze to her book.
“Hi,” Lockwood says. He enters the room—his search for George leaving his mind as he gets closer to Lucy, her proximity making him lose his thoughts.
Lockwood joins her on the couch and makes himself comfortable. He grabs a society magazine and begins to read. Then, without warning, Lucy shifts. Her head is suddenly on his lap and he looks down at her.
“Is this alright?” Lucy asks, her gaze mesmerising him.
“Y-yeah,” he manages.
She smiles and returns to her book. He reads the magazine with one hand and runs his fingers through her hair. She hums at the sensation and a smile spreads across his face.
He’d seen his father do this with his mother. His hands gently thread through her hair as she read out their research. Lockwood’s heart pangs dully and he wonders why. He assumes he’s probably still hurting about his parents’ death. Though, he notices it doesn’t hurt as much as it previously did.
As his eyes wander the room before resting on Lucy, he knows. It’s because he has Lucy. Her presence is enough to dull the ache that the loss of his family caused. She’s the reason he wants to live .
“Something on your mind?” Lucy murmurs, her voice accent stronger now that she’s beginning to doze.
“I was just thinking about my parents.” He watches as her eyes open and she looks up at him. “I just think that they’d have liked to meet you.”
She smiles. “I wish I could’ve met them, Lockwood. I know they’d be proud of you.”
“You think so?” His fingers continue to move through her hair, occasionally stopping to massage her head.
“I do.” Lucy gives him a sleepy smile and he’s content to let her drift away.
His heart aches again, but this time it’s for a different reason.
five.
Sometimes, when he’s alone, he wonders what the future holds. He dreams of iron fences protecting 35 Portland Row, of children running around the house, of waking up next to Lucy, of getting to kiss her goodnight and good morning. He wants to make breakfast for her every morning and then retire to the library at night, talking about their days.
What he really wants though, in the future, is to have a relationship like his parents. Celia and Donald Lockwood loved each other deeply and Lockwood wants that for himself. He wants that with Lucy.
He hopes that he’ll still have Lucy and George with him. He wishes that he’ll have Lucy forever—she’s the one. He knows it. But he doesn’t know how to tell her. George says it’s easy; get it done and she’ll reciprocate. But Lockwood’s unsure—what if she rejects him, what if he messes up and she hates him, what if she leaves . It’s the last thought that stops him from saying anything.
He can only pray that she’ll be able to pick up on his hints—the way he reaches for her hand when they walk, the way he holds her hand after they escape a near death experience or after jumping off of a building, the way he cradles her after she Listens to a horrible death. It’s the only way he can tell her, he thinks.
If he says the wrong thing, it could be over. His world would stop if she left and he would break, his glass heart shattering and his world would come crumbling down. But if he continues to give himself reasons to protect her or be near her, then he could say it’s because they’re friends.
Most people hold hands with their friends, right? (George says he’s wrong because most people don’t look at their friends with lovesick puppy dog eyes).
He’s lost in his thoughts as they wait for the Night Cab to arrive. Lucy comes to a stop next to him before leaning against him and he reaches for her hand before he can think. She entwines their fingers and he feels his pulse speed up. Lockwood watches her from the corner of his eye. She doesn’t seem to realise what she does to him.
Her eyes catch his and he finds a smile tugging on his face. She gives him one in return and they stay that way until the cab arrives.
Lockwood pulls her in behind him and keeps her hand in his until they pull up to the street where the haunting is taking place. George clears his throat and looks pointedly at their entwined hands, but Lucy’s too lost in her thoughts and Lockwood gives him a swift kick to the shin and that’s that.
They stand outside the decrepit building and George sighs, a faint tone of annoyance threading his voice about how they can’t stop making eyes at each other. He walks ahead of them and when Lockwood’s sure he’s far enough ahead, he tugs Lucy to a stop.
She tilts her head and looks at him, concern etched into her features. Lockwood gives her a reassuring smile.
“Promise me that you’ll try to stay safe?”
He knows what she’ll say.
“I promise,” Lucy smiles.
“Pinky promise.”
Lucy gives him an exasperated sigh and links her pinky with his. They continue on and Lockwood feels marginally better than he did before.
(+ one)
Lockwood’s never been one for opening up; in the past he preferred to keep his cards close to his heart, too afraid to let anyone in after what happened with his parents and Jessica.
However, Lucy manages to burrow herself into his heart. The void that had been left after his parents' passing and Jessica’s untimely demise was slowly being filled by Lucy and George.
His eyes land on the figure of the girl who occupies his thoughts. She’s outside laying on the grass. It’s a hot sunny day in the middle of the summer and Lockwood and Co. have seen more time to enjoy. They try to spend as much time as possible outside throughout the year, but at some point they just give up.
He moves to join her and she doesn’t open her eyes until he’s settling himself next to her, his fingers brushing against hers.
She gazes at him and he loses himself in her eyes. His heart aches painfully and he wonders if she can see into his soul, if she can see how utterly in love he is with her.
His mind reels at the thought. How hadn’t he realised it? He’s in love with Lucy. The realisation dawns on him and sears itself into his brain. He wonders how long he’d been in love with her—has it been days or months or years?
But deep down he knows. He’s known it ever since she walked through that door and introduced herself to him. Lockwood feels like an idiot.
He’s been in love with Lucy ever since he first met her. He denied his feelings, too scared that she’d leave him again and that he’d have to bear another mark on his soul of someone he lost. He’s so wrapped up in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice that Lucy’s moved closer until he feels her hot breath fanning across his face.
He studies her and she reaches out, hesitating slightly, before beginning to trace the features of his face. Lockwood closes his eyes and relaxes at her soothing touch. She traces his lips and he opens his eyes.
Their faces are closer now and he knows that if he doesn’t say it now, he’ll never get the chance again.
“I’m in love with you.”
The words echo in his ears, they ring through the air filling the space between him and Lucy. He’s holding his breath and watching her, fearful of her reaction—would she be pleased or disgusted?
He can see the gears turning in her head as his words sink in. He watches, on the verge of disbelief, when he receives a radiant smile from her.
“I’m in love with you, too.”
He releases his breath as she voices her thoughts. She loves him. She’s in love with him. He’s cut off from thinking any further when she leans forward and kisses him. He’s surprised but quickly pulls her close to him.
She smiles into the kiss and he grins. Yes, maybe his hopes and dreams will come true after all.