Work Text:
‘One look, dark room
Meant just for you
Time moved too fast
You play it back
Buttons on a coat
Light-hearted joke
No proof, not much
But you saw enough’
I was dully aware of the way the room buzzed around me. I heard the glasses of champagne clinking together, the soft murmurs of esteemed colleagues and acquaintances. But none of that captured my attention. As always, it was the boy beside me that did.
Dressed in an even nicer suit than usual, Lockwood surveyed the room. “I have to tell you, Luce,” he said, “I’m a bit out of practice when it comes to parties. I’m not sure what to do when we have no ulterior motive.”
I let out a short sigh. “Well, I’m probably the last person to ask.” My voice dropped a bit so only he could hear me. “Then again, it’s not as if we’re here solely for our enjoyment.”
He just nodded as a waiter stopped to offer us champagne. We both took a glass and fell into a comfortable, observant silence.
My words were true. It had been two months since Penelope Fittes waltzed into our kitchen, her warning still very much at the forefront of our minds. Of course, also at the forefront of our minds was the decision we had made to dismiss that warning. A risky decision, especially considering the precautions already being taken against us. Just last week we were stopped on our way to a client’s house and required to show proof of our case. Lockwood had been furious, and even more so when we got back to Portland Row to find an invitation for the annual Fittes Summer Ball. Apparently, the company had never been invited before and he suspected it was just another way to keep tabs on us. In the end, we all decided it would be best to go and not raise suspicions any more than we already had.
Despite his concerns, Lockwood looked completely natural among the other guests. He did so with ease, of course. I, on the other hand, felt like a fish out of water and was sure my efforts to appear otherwise fell short. And although Holly, George and Kipps were elsewhere, I knew that one of them was having a perfectly fine time while the other two were not. Three guesses as to who was which.
At that moment, however, I wasn’t paying much attention to the others, or Lockwood, for that matter.
A man stood in front of me, facing the other way so I just saw his backside. He was an older gentleman, who, even though still had his hat on, was very clearly wearing a toupée. From what I could see, the hairpiece was wavier and a far darker color of grey compared to the straight, almost white strands of the man’s remaining natural hair. I wouldn’t have given it more than just one glance, but then the man’s wife motioned for him to take the hat off.
And the toupée came off with the hat.
Somehow, neither the man nor his wife noticed. I could hardly believe it, and on instinct I turned to my right where Lockwood was. I couldn’t help myself from grinning when I saw that he was already looking at me, the same amused look on his face as there was on mine.
Even though I felt closer to him after our trip through the Other Side, I had still been worried after rejoining the company, not knowing if we would get along like we used to. If the connection was still there. But standing there in that crowded room, feeling the familiarity of Lockwood’s warm gaze as we stifled our laughter, I knew that it was. And if that wasn’t enough, he was smiling that one smile I knew was just for me.
The noise surrounding us would have covered it up, but Lockwood still leaned in close to me and whispered, “How does that even happen?”
I couldn’t say anything, just smiled and shook my head, watching as the old couple wandered out of our sight. Then Holly appeared beside me, George and Kipps in tow. Lockwood and I broke apart.
“What’s so funny?” George asked.
“Oh, nothing really,” Lockwood said. “Just a dumb joke.” We shared a look and I felt something stir in my chest. Holly said something to me then and the spell was broken.
It’s probably nothing , I thought to myself.
Nevertheless, I held on to that moment and that feeling, tucking them away to think about later.
‘Small talk, he drives
Coffee at midnight
The light reflects
The chain on your neck
He says, "Look up"
And your shoulders brush
No proof, one touch
But you felt enough’
Undying devotion. That’s what Lockwood had told me his mother’s necklace, a gift from his father, symbolized. He told me of its meaning and then gave it to me .
He simply gave it to me on a stack of papers after inviting me on a walk. I of course followed after him, nearly running George over on my way down the stairs and out the door. We mostly just enjoyed each other's company as we walked through the streets of Marylebone, making small talk here and there. Neither of us mustered up any grand confessions or anything, and while I was content without them, I still felt something . A difference. A shift between us. I was happy.
So happy, in fact, I couldn’t even fall asleep later that night. All I could think about was Lockwood. I tossed and turned in my tiny bed for what seemed like forever before finally giving up. I needed tea.
I made my way down the stairs quickly, hoping to clear my mind a bit. As soon as my feet hit the first floor landing, however, Lockwood’s door opened. I could tell he hadn’t been sleeping either, he hadn’t even changed out of his shirt and tie from earlier.
He smiled when he saw me. “Oh, hi. Are you-” he gestured to the stairs.
“Going to make tea, yeah,” I said.
“Want some company?”
“Of course.”
The clock in the kitchen said midnight, but in that moment time didn’t matter, nor what we were doing. It could have been three o’clock in the morning or three o’clock in the afternoon. We could have been stumbling home after a tricky case or reading in the library and I wouldn’t have cared. I felt at home.
As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t bring myself to say all of this to Lockwood. The words were there in my head, it was just scary to think about saying them out loud. Someday , I told myself.
“Here, Luce.” Lockwood handed me a box of biscuits, the one from the shelf only he could reach.
“Your Choco Leibniz? I wasn’t aware this was such a special occasion,” I teased.
“Of course. I always consider midnight tea with you a special occasion. Oh look, water’s done.”
He turned to grab the kettle, but not before I caught the shade of pink his face had turned. I felt my face flush with color as well, watching him as he poured the water into two cups, teabags waiting. He looked as he always did, but I couldn’t help but wonder if his thoughts were like mine. If he was thinking about how he wanted more, but the thought of initiating the change overwhelmed him.
I turned my attention to arranging the biscuits on a plate and caught my reflection in the window above the sink. My eyes were instantly drawn to the blue sapphire still around my neck. I realized he had told me something with the necklace, but still. Where to go from here?
“Hey.” I was still looking out the window. “Lockwood look, you can kind of see the stars.” He moved closer, leaning forward so our arms touched. I looked up at him. “Let’s go out there.”
A few minutes later we were standing in the middle of the garden, our tea and biscuits left on the small bench we had out there. The black sky was peppered with specks of light. Next to me, Lockwood looked upwards, but my eyes were focused on him. I took in his face, bathed in the soft light of the moon.
Lockwood turned his head, fully catching me staring at him. I blushed again, but I wasn’t embarrassed. His eyes held mine, then —even if for the slightest moment— moved to my lips. Just a brief glance before he looked at my necklace, the sapphire and chain reflecting the moonlight. His gaze met mine once more.
“Look up, Lucy.”
My shoulder brushed against his arm as I looked towards the sky and then Lockwood was slipping his hand into mine, our fingers lacing together. Again I felt something shift between us like it did on our walk, and whether we stood like that for one minute or ten I don’t know. I just focused on Lockwood’s hand touching mine and the stars shining above us.
‘Morning, his place
Burnt toast, Sunday
You keep his shirt
He keeps his word
And for once, you let go
Of your fears and your ghosts
One step, not much
But it said enough’
Weeks went by and our relationship continued to grow. We spent more time with each other and shared more intimate moments —the kind I couldn’t picture myself having with anyone else. We were still skirting around a label, and hadn’t done more than hold hands, or gone on an actual date, for that matter. But, we were slowly acknowledging our feelings more and more.
One Saturday night we went on a job, just the two of us. It was nothing too bad, just a Phantasm in the client’s living room. We did everything by the book and had no unexpected surprises until a burst of psychic energy knocked me into the coffee table. Although I fell down and twisted my ankle it caused no real harm, just a little chaos.
Still, Lockwood’s questions were persistent on the way home. “Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked.
“For the third time, yes.” My tone was light, but the worried look on his face didn’t go away. Instead of pressing the matter more, I closed the small distance between us and my hand found his; I leaned my head on his shoulder. Lockwood sighed and I felt him relax.
We stayed silent for the rest of the cab ride, as we walked through the front door and eventually up the stairs. I stopped, lingering outside of Lockwood’s room. He took my hands and looked at me.
“I’m sorry, for always asking you if you're alright after something happens.” He cleared his throat. “It's just that I hate seeing you hurt, even if it's not serious.”
So many responses ran through my head, all of which had been said before when we’d had this conversation. One of us would get hurt and the other would be upset. Sometimes it was Lockwood getting hurt because he came to my rescue or vice versa. Other times it was like this, where an injury just happened. It had always been a part of the job, but now it was one that both of us found more difficult to deal with.
I could have said a number of things, but I decided tonight was going to be different. I stepped closer to him. “Then make me feel better.”
Lockwood only hesitated for a second and then his hands were cupping my face, his touch soft. Then his lips were on mine, tentative at first, but like everything we did we fell into a rhythm and when we broke apart we were gasping for air. We smiled at each other, and I realized I didn’t want to go up to my bed.
I didn’t say this right away though. I kissed Lockwood some more instead.
“Lockwood,” I said, pulling away, my voice somehow sounding confident, “what would you say if I told you I wanted to sleep in your room tonight?”
His eyes didn’t leave mine. “Do you?”
I nodded before any unfounded doubts could change my mind. “Yes, but-” I blushed slightly, “But just to sleep.”
Lockwood smiled, like I had made him the happiest person alive. “C’mon then,” he said, and we went inside.
Dressed in one of Lockwood’s sleep shirts and a pair of pants much too long for me, I eventually drifted off to sleep in the comfort of his arms.
—
The next morning I awoke and found Lockwood’s side of the bed empty. As soon as I sat up, set on going to the kitchen to see if that’s where he was, the door opened and he was there, a tray with two plates of only slightly burnt toast in his hands.
“Good morning, Luce,” he greeted. I didn’t have a chance to respond before he climbed back into the bed and planted a kiss on my lips. Short and sweet. A ‘good morning’ kiss.
It was a very good morning indeed.
“Here,” he handed me a plate. We ate in silence, and although my brain was still in the process of waking up, just about a million thoughts ran through my head.
It all suddenly seemed so easy. We had kissed, slept in the same bed, and were now eating a quiet breakfast together, like it was a normal thing we had been doing all our lives. I couldn’t think about it too much or my head would spin but, emboldened by the memory of the night before and the possibilities for the future, I turned to Lockwood.
He put down his toast. “What’s on your mind?”
“I was just thinking about what it would be like if this was a normal thing, us waking up like this.” I cleared my throat, urging myself to go on. “If it happened after being out for a different reason, not just a case.”
“It can.” Lockwood’s voice was soft. “It can, Lucy.”
“Later today then. Let’s go to that one cafe we like, just the two of us.”
He nodded, his smile lighting up the room. “It’s a date.”
I just smiled back at him. Any doubt I previously felt was gone. And while there was no way of knowing for certain what was in store for us, that feeling was proof enough that it was going to be good.
‘You kiss on sidewalks
You fight and you talk
One night he wakes
Strange look on his face
Pauses, then says
You're my best friend
And you knew what it was
He is in love’
As time went on I learned what it was like to be a part of a proper couple. I didn’t know what to expect when Lockwood and I started dating, when we officially acknowledged our feelings, when we said, “I want to be your girlfriend,” and, “I want to be your boyfriend.” In some ways our relationship stayed the same; he was still the person I felt most comfortable with. But there were also some things that changed. We certainly opened up to each other more, both about our feelings for each other (obviously) and other things. And there was definitely more kissing.
I wasn’t aware of how many types of kisses there were. Then again, how was I to know? There were the ones after we woke up in the morning and before we went to bed at night, short and sweet which served as another way of saying “I love you.” There were the slow kisses we could really take our time with, for the times when we had the house to ourselves or simply felt like indulging a little bit. Then there were the ones that started off frantic and often led to more. . .
Interestingly enough, the few kisses we shared outside the comfort of 35 Portland Row began to fall into two categories. The first kind, which took place most often, usually happened at the end of our weekly walks —because that was something we did now. We liked to stall at the end of the street on our way back. Typically Lockwood started it, always coming up with one more thing to talk about, but I always went along with it. Then when we finally went silent, he wrapped his arms around my waist and mine found their place on his shoulders. And when our lips finally met? Well, let’s just say it was always a kiss I still remembered the next morning.
The second kind usually happened in the wee hours of the morning while waiting for a night cab. They were kisses of relief, kisses that said, “I’m so thankful we’re alive, I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”
For instance, there was the time a Changer gave us way too much trouble as it wreaked havoc on an abandoned house. That particular case left us all in worse shape than we arrived in, but specifically had my jacket and boots steaming from ectoplasm burns and gave Lockwood’s new coat a fresh set of claw marks. With George, Holly and Kipps already in a cab, that just left me and Lockwood standing on the pavement, waiting quietly for another one.
In one motion I dropped the kit bag I was holding, grabbed onto Lockwood’s coat, and pulled him to me so I could kiss him.
“Dammit, Lockwood,” I said, the words coming in between breaths, “that was- scary. I hate feeling that way.”
“I know. Do you want to talk about it?”
Another time, I maybe would have. But instead of answering I just deepened our kiss because sometimes that’s all that I needed.
—
As much as I would like to say we didn’t, we still fought. Sometimes our normal, good-natured banter turned into nagging and bickering, but nothing too serious. Every once and awhile, however, there would be full-on fights, the our-yelling-caused-George-to-shut-himself-in-his- room, kind.
Of course, learning how to deal with them was all part of being in a relationship. In the end, we always emerged on the other side of the argument happy, whatever the issue was resolved.
One case-free evening, Holly and Kipps at their flats and George visiting his family, it was just Lockwood and I in the library. Though we weren’t doing anything except reading our preferred material (a magazine for him, a mystery novel for me), I was already a bit cross with him. Something about him had seemed off the whole day, and for the whole day I asked if he was alright. His responses were short and dismissive, and normally I would have let it go, but the more I thought about it the more I started to think otherwise.
Whatever it was, he should have been able to say more than “I’m fine,” or “it’s nothing,” the whole day, at least to me.
Get out of your head, Carlyle , I told myself. Just talk .
“Lockwood?” I asked. He looked up from his copy of London Society . “I know I’ve been asking you a lot today, but are you sure there’s nothing on your mind?”
He sighed, almost like he was irritated. Instead of waiting for an answer I spoke again. “Well now I definitely think something’s wrong because you never have a short temper with me.”
“I’m not losing my temper.”
“And all I did was ask a simple question, there’s no need to sigh like it’s an inconvenience.”
Lockwood sighed again. “I didn’t- Luce, please. It’s nothing, okay? I’m sorry, but can we please drop it?”
I knew we were in it now. “No. You’ve been dropping it all day, and normally I would understand if you didn’t want to talk, but it’s clearly affecting you. You haven’t been this closed off to me in a long time and it worries me.”
“That’s not fair,” he said. “You know as well as I do that progress isn’t linear. Sometimes, I have to turn the tap off on my emotions to feel okay.”
“But that’s what I’m here for!” I stood up, the volume of my voice raised. Not angry, just loud. “When you need to feel okay you lean on me, not shut me out. If you can’t be vulnerable with me, how am I supposed to know it’s okay for me to be vulnerable with you?”
It was not my finest decision, but I let my book fall into my chair and I walked out of the room. No sooner had I passed Lockwood’s room than I heard him coming up the stairs behind me. I kept going and finally reached my bed in the attic. I left the door open though; I would never shut Lockwood out.
He appeared at the top of the steps, not timid like he would have been when we were just friends, but ready to talk to me and work it out.
“Lucy,” he breathed, “please know that I never meant to indicate that you can’t talk to me. You always, always can.”
“Then why can’t you talk to me?”
“Because it’s hard!” He took a few steps and sat down next to me on the bed. The look we shared was intense, but not something I felt the need to shy away from. “As much as I hate it, it’s hard for me to open up, even now, when I’ve actually started to talk about my past. I want to, there are just time’s when I can’t.”
I let my shoulders relax, I could feel my face soften. “I understand that, Lockwood. I really do. It frustrates me sometimes, but I’m sorry for making such a big deal about it.”
“Don’t be. It’s good to talk about this, and I- I truly appreciate you, Lucy. For always listening to me when I need it, and for literally everything else.”
The tension in my shoulders fell away. I felt better. “C’mere,” I said, my arms wrapping around him. He held me tight, and we just stayed like that for a little while.
Later that night we lay in my bed, his arm around me, my body snug against his. I only woke once, and when I did I saw that Lockwood was awake too.
“Lockwood?” I propped myself up on an elbow so I was slightly above him.
“Luce,” he paused, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re my best friend.” Without saying another word he gently pulled me back down, holding my hand against his chest.
Eventually his breathing evened out again, but I stayed awake a little longer. I was caught up in my thoughts, in the love I had for Lockwood and the love I knew he had for me. I had felt like that before, but I realized for the first time that I would spend the rest of my life feeling that way.
‘And so it goes
You two are dancing in a snow globe, 'round and 'round
And he keeps the picture of you in his office downtown
And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars
And why I've spent my whole life tryin' to put it into words’
The thing about my relationship with Lockwood was that the words “I love you” never quite felt like enough. We still said them, of course, but also showed our love in other ways. The pure amount of time we spent together, for example. We not only learned to open up to each other through talking, but also by sharing the things we normally did alone. I got comfortable with Lockwood being in my room as I spent some time quietly sketching, and he took me with him to the cemetery more. Things like that.
There was also the way he stopped one day while we were in the middle of rapier practice to place an arm around my waist, spinning us around in a dance until we got dizzy and lost our footing. There were the pictures of us together, one on each of the windowsills in our rooms and the one on Lockwood’s desk in the basement.
The basement was where we were one afternoon, having just finished oiling the chains and some other work. Lockwood had started practicing some maneuvers with a new rapier and I had taken a seat at my desk, quite inclined to enjoy my view. Sunlight was coming through the garden door and I even had a packet of crisps to snack on.
Lockwood lunged at Lady Esmeralda II, somehow managing to talk to me while exercising and not be out of breath. “Now don’t enjoy the show too much, Luce,” he said, taking another stab. “We wouldn’t want George to come down here and be put off by your ogling.”
I made a face of fake annoyance. “For your information, I will ogle whenever I like and as much as I like, and it would hardly be the worst thing George had ever seen.”
“I suppose we are a bit easier on the eyes than an eyeless ghost girl.”
I laughed. Lockwood walked over to my desk and I offered him a crisp.
“Here, last one. Saved it for you.”
“How kind.” It crunched in his mouth, the only noise in the room as he looked to be quietly contemplating something.
“What’re you thinking about?” I asked.
“You.”
I blushed. “What do you mean?”
“C’mon, Luce. I’m always thinking about you.” He teased me, but he sat down and then got more serious. “I was just thinking about my parents. Even though I was so young, I know that the love they felt for each other is- it’s what we have. I’m sure of it.”
Lockwood had several ways of making me speechless, and saying something like that was certainly one of them.
“I’ve been thinking about it recently,” he continued. “I know there were some things they didn’t agree on, naturally. But, no matter what they always stood by each other. There’s so much more to it, I just don’t know how to say it all. All I know is that’s the kind of love I have for you, Lucy, and I’ll probably spend the rest of my life trying to put it into words.”
Try as I might, my eyes still went misty and I felt a lump in my throat. I reached for Lockwood’s hands, trying to get a hold of my thoughts.
“I know exactly what you mean, about not having the right words,” I said. “But believe me, Lockwood, those were definitely the right words. And I want you to know that’s the kind of love I have for you too. So much of it.”
I lifted one of his hands to my lips and gave it a gentle kiss. The smile on his face grew.
“I love you, Lucy.”
“I love you, Lockwood.”
A beat of silence passed and then we stood up, Lockwood to store the rapier and me to throw away the crisp packet. I moved towards the stairs, turning as he came to stand beside me. “So what, rapier practice gets you in the mood for grand love confessions?” I asked.
He scoffed. “Lucy, please. We just had a very nice moment. There is no need to start taking the piss out of me.”
“Oh, but I thought that was what made me so charming?”
Lockwood just laughed and threw an arm over my shoulder. I leaned into him as we walked up the stairs, my own arm around his waist. I could feel his chest move with laughter as my side pressed against his, our joyful voices echoing up to the kitchen.
‘Cause you can hear in the silence
You can feel it on the way home
You can see it with the lights out
You are in love, true love
You are in love’
When thinking about my feelings for Lockwood I always come to the realization that they’ve always been there. The love between us was present in the beginning, I just didn’t know how to look for it, didn’t know why it was there. But it was.
Then somewhere along the way, I didn’t turn away from it. I embraced it. And so did Lockwood.
Because at that point I could hear it in the silence as we sat together in the library or shared a cup of tea. I could feel it on the way home in a night cab, just the two of us, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I could feel it in the darkness we sometimes found ourselves in, whether it was under the unnatural black sky of the Other Side at Aldbury Castle, or the darkness we both had inside of us, put there by our pasts that we helped each other with.
I felt it all the time. At the Fittes party, laughing with him at some old man’s toupée, looking at the stars in the garden, in his bed, after a fight. Always, my love for Lockwood shined through.
Because that’s what it was, that feeling that I felt so strongly for him and that he felt so strongly for me. Love.
True love.