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Anthony Lockwood did not consider himself a particularly jealous person. He didn’t covet Kipps’ position at Fittes nor did he hate the other agencies for their funding and resources when he had none. He certainly wasn’t envious of George’s family, of how loving and together and alive they were, nor was he jealous of Lucy’s talent, despite his own affinity for the spotlight.
But right now, in this moment, the only word that could encapsulate Lockwood’s horrid, jumbled-up emotions was jealousy . And he hated himself for it.
They’d been hired for another cemetery job, despite Lockwood’s own protestations that it wasn’t grand enough for their skills. Lucy and George had teamed up against him, reminding him that they hadn’t been paid in a month. He reminded them that house maintenance was expensive, and they had been the ones to flood the basement while messing with the steam vents. The argument had ended in a stalemate, but in the end their rationality overpowered Lockwood’s pride, and so they now found themselves wrapping up a straightforward job around 2 am.
Much like with Kensal Green, West Norwood was bustling with grave diggers, sensitives, and night watch agents. A private ambulance was parked outside by a couple DEPRAC vans, but the medics were engaged in a game of cards, unneeded. No one was injured, nothing was on fire—all in all, it was one of their more peaceful nights.
That was, until Lockwood was pulled aside by the client to finish signing a few documents. Lucy and George stood a few feet away, chatting quietly as they waited for him. It was a relief how well they got on now, compared to the way they bickered when Lucy first arrived. From the corner of his eye, Lockwood could see Lucy steal George’s glasses and try them on, exclaiming that George had the worst eyesight in the world. George simply jabbed her in the ribs with a knuckle until he was able to wrestle them back. It was almost sweet, the way they tormented each other.
“Hey.” As Lockwood was presented with yet another form, a young man approached Lucy and George. He was tall and fit, a bit older than them and dressed in the orange jumpsuit of the Nightwatch. “I’m Nick. You’re Lucy Carlyle, aren’t you?”
Lockwood could hear the surprise in Lucy’s voice as she replied, “Oh. Yeah, I am. You’ve heard of me?”
The boy— Nick —smiled. “‘Course I have. You’re famous, at least among us Nightwatchers. Topher and Dana worked the Kensal Green job, said you saved everyone with a single throw.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, pointing at his teammates who were talking with the DEPRAC agents on duty.
“They exaggerate, I’m sure,” Lucy said stiffly.
Nick laughed as though she’d said something wonderfully hilarious. Lockwood wished the client would stop handing him documents; he was starting to get uncomfortable with the way the boy inched closer to Lucy, ignoring George entirely.
“They certainly didn’t exaggerate how pretty you are,” Nick said, leaning closer into her space. Lockwood’s grip on the pen tightened.
For once, Lucy seemed speechless. “Er, thanks,” she said after a moment.
“Would you be interested in grabbing some coffee?” Nick asked. Was he that oblivious to Lucy’s discomfort? Lockwood was growing angry now. Why couldn’t this prick just back off?
“Oh, no, I can’t.” Lucy took a small step back. “I’m still on the clock. But, er, thank you?”
“Doesn’t have to be tonight,” Nick said, taking another step forward. “Doesn’t have to be coffee, either. You like Thai? I know a great place in Tottenham. Real cozy, great for…intimate conversation.”
Lucy did like Thai, Lockwood knew. She always ordered pad kee mao but stole bites of his massaman curry when she thought he wasn’t looking. It was more endearing than it was annoying, so Lockwood never called her out for it, much to George’s disgruntlement.
(It wasn’t as cute when George stole Lockwood’s chips when they stopped at the chippy. Then again, George never even tried to be sneaky with his theft, often making direct eye contact as he did it.)
“And that’s all of it, Mr. Lockwood,” the client—Mrs. Hughes—said, shuffling the papers together in a tidy stack. “You should see your payment in the next 48 hours.”
Lockwood thanked her and turned to finally put this Nick fellow in his place. Would it be overkill to draw his rapier? Or would Lucy find it dashing?
“Actually, sorry,” Lucy said, voice getting higher and louder. “But as you see…” She grabbed George’s arm and pulled him close to her, resting her head on his shoulder. George blinked owlishly, obviously confused, but stayed silent. “I’ve got a boyfriend.”
At that, George relaxed into Lucy’s half-embrace, pulling his arm from her grip to wrap around her shoulders. His face remained impassive and he still said nothing, but he stood a bit taller, as if trying to match Nick’s height. Lockwood watched, dumbfounded.
“Oh.” Nick’s smile faded and he looked George up and down with poorly veiled disgust. “Right, well, if you change your mind-”
“I won’t.” Lucy gave him a tight smile. “But thank you for the invitation.”
“Right.” Nick grimaced a bit and left without another word, shoulders hunched in dejection. Lucy waited until he was about 10 meters away before she let out a long sigh. George snickered, but didn’t move his arm.
“Thought he’d never leave,” Lucy said. “What a weirdo.”
“What, I thought he was quite handsome,” George teased. “You could do worse.”
Lockwood disagreed; Lucy could only do better than that dick. She was fierce and strong and beautiful and destined for greatness. She deserved only the best.
“What, should I go take up Kipps’ offer then?” Lucy retorted, bumping her hip against George’s.
“Well,” George said, pretending to think about it seriously. “He’s not as good-looking, but he’s got a better paying job…”
Lockwood cleared his throat. Lucy and George turned in tandem, still entwined. “I think Lucy can aim a bit higher than Kipps,” he said, feeling a bit cross with George for even suggesting it.
“Apparently she has,” George said, pointing at himself. “I’d say I’m worth at least two of Kipps.”
Lucy grinned up at him. “I’d say at least three.”
It should have been sweet. Lockwood should have been happy that his two employees—and good friends—were so close. Instead, something vile and petty curdled in his gut.
“Let’s get home,” he said, crossing his arms. “We deserve an early night after a job well done.”
The smile Lucy gave him was blinding. “It was a good job, huh?” She sounded proud, almost giddy. “I can’t believe you found that cemetery record in an old journal, George. Fittes could never .”
“Of course they couldn’t,” George bragged. Normally Lockwood would have joined in, been even prouder of him than Lucy was, but tonight he couldn’t muster any sort of goodwill towards his researcher. Not when George’s arm was still slung around Lucy’s shoulders. Not when Lucy still leaned into George so casually.
“I’ll go call a cab, then,” Lockwood said, a bit too stiffly. The others didn’t seem to notice his discomfort. Instead, Lucy and George seemed lost in some joke one of them had told, giggling with their heads close together. Lockwood all but stormed away to the closest payphone, mood souring with each step.
It didn’t take long for a nightcab to arrive—Jake, their usual cabbie, often stuck close to wherever they went in the evenings—and Lockwood found himself stuck to the right of Lucy and George. They were still goofing around, laughing about the events of the evening.
“Well, as your boyfriend ,” George said, causing Lucy to snort. “I request that you stop hoarding cups in your room. I had to drink coffee out of a bowl yesterday.”
“Oh, alright,” Lucy said. “Then as your girlfriend , I ask that you stop leaving your trainers by the stairs. I nearly broke my neck this morning tripping over them.”
Maybe, if he closed his eyes, Lockwood could nap for the rest of the cab ride. This joke had gone on long enough, and it was starting to grate at his nerves. If they kept at it, they might actually end up dating. And Lockwood couldn’t have that happening under his roof.
“Yes, dear,” George teased, and Lockwood nearly threw himself from the moving vehicle.
They managed to make it home without incident. Lockwood tossed a wad of cash at Jake—probably too much, but he’d gotten them there in record time—and stormed up the front steps, shouldering open the front door before Lucy and George had even gotten out of the car. It was childish, he knew, but all he wanted was to fall into bed and forget all the stupid emotions he’d felt tonight. Forget the way that Nick guy looked at Lucy. Forget the way George held her close.
He’d just changed into his pajama pants and a t-shirt when someone knocked lightly at his bedroom door. It had to be Lucy; George tended to kick at his door until he answered.
Lockwood opened the door, heart skipping a beat when he laid eyes on Lucy. She’d changed into faded joggers and a night shirt, face pink and scrubbed clean of cemetery dirt. In her hand, she had a plate of biscuits—his choco leibniz, stolen from his desk—which she held out to him. Lockwood took it, annoyance lessening.
“Are you okay?” She asked, crossing her arms. “You’ve been acting odd since we left Norwood.”
Lockwood supposed he wasn’t as good an actor as he hoped. “I’m fine,” he said, a bit too quickly. “Honest.”
Lucy did not appear convinced. “Are you sure? Did something happen with Mrs. Hughes?”
“No, no.” Lockwood shook his head. “Everything’s fine.”
“Lockwood.” Lucy fixed him with a hard look. “You can be honest with me.”
And he could , he knew he could. That was the danger of Lucy Carlyle. He wanted to tell her everything, wanted to spill every last secret and awful bit of him to her, wanted her to accept him just as he was, broken and scarred and empty. But she didn’t deserve that.
“I just…” God, he couldn’t control his mouth, could he? “Why George?”
“What?” Lucy frowned in confusion. “Why George what ?”
“Why him?” Lockwood repeated, glancing down at his feet. “I was right there.”
Lucy blinked once, twice, then: “Lockwood, are you jealous that I pretended George was my boyfriend instead of you ?”
Well it just sounded stupid when she said it out loud. “Maybe,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.
To his surprise, she laughed. “I know you would be the best pretend boyfriend,” Lucy said, shaking her head. “But you were busy and George was right there. I’m sure he’d have preferred I use you instead, but I didn’t have a lot of time to think. I know you’re a better actor, Lockwood.”
Oh , Lockwood realized. She didn’t understand at all . And he could leave it that way, could let her think his pride had been wounded as a performer, as a spotlight-hogging attention whore. But part of him resented that idea. Lucy deserved to know the truth.
“That’s not it,” he said softly. It was hard to meet her eyes, soft and dark as they were, but he held her gaze. “That’s not why I was jealous.”
Lucy smile faded, and her mouth twisted in confusion. “Then what is it?” She asked. “Tell me.”
“I…” Lockwood licked his lips. He could hear George in the shower, could hear the creaking of the pipes and the patter of water. They were well and truly alone, no one there to interrupt. He could tell her. He would . “I want to be your boyfriend.”
“Right…” Lucy said slowly. “Instead of George tonight.”
“No.” Lockwood looked away. “All the time. Not a fake boyfriend. A real one.”
It took him a minute to look back at Lucy. In that time she had fallen silent and still. Lockwood imagined the different looks she could have on her face: shock, disgust, discomfort. He’d seen those expressions on her face tonight, when that idiot Nick had approached her. It wasn’t hard to believe she was looking at him now the same way.
“Lockwood,” Lucy whispered. “Can you look at me?”
Gathering his courage, Lockwood finally met Lucy’s eyes, heart thundering in his chest. She didn’t look disgusted or horrified or even pitying. Instead, there was something foreign in her gaze, something akin to…hope?
“You want to be my boyfriend?” She asked, voice small. “Like, my actual boyfriend?”
He nodded, throat too thick to speak. He wanted to take it all back, to tell her not to worry about it, that it wouldn’t change a thing, that her position in the company was safe and he never meant to make her uncomfortable. Instead, Lockwood just stood there, terrified and mute.
“Well that’s good,” she said, reaching out to take his hand. “Because I’d really like to be your girlfriend.”
That caught him off guard. “Really?” He asked, incredulous.
Lucy laughed, twining their fingers together. “Yeah, really.”
“Oh.” Lockwood stared at her, unsure of how to proceed. He’d never thought this far ahead. “Can I…kiss you?”
Lucy gave him a heartbreakingly beautiful smile. “I’d like that.”
Kissing Lucy was better than he could have ever imagined. Her lips were soft, her mouth hot, and the curves of her body pressed against him so sweetly. Lockwood felt he could die happy in that moment, as long as Lucy was there wrapped up in him.
“Oi!” George’s shout broke them apart. He stood outside the bath, hair damp, hands on his hips. “Stop macking on my girlfriend in the hallway.”
Lockwood frowned and pulled Lucy closer to him. “Piss off.”
George laughed and waved them away. “Get a room, you lovebirds. You’re making me sick.”
Lucy laughed and blew George a kiss, letting Lockwood pull her further into his bedroom. “Night, Georgie,” she said.
“Night,” George grumbled, unable to hide his smile. “Disgusting,” he muttered, retreating to his own bedroom.
Lockwood kicked his door shut, spinning Lucy around to face him. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips were pink from his kiss. It made him want to kiss her even more.
“It’ll be a bit of work,” Lucy said, tapping her chin with her finger. “Having two boyfriends, that is. But I suppose I’ll make it work- hey!”
Lockwood had grabbed her waist, right at the places where he knew she was ticklish, and dug his fingers in deep. Lucy squirmed under his touch, laughing and shoving at his hands. Finally, after she gave him a truly endearing pout, he relented, pressing their foreheads together.
“I’m kidding,” she said. “You’re the only one for me.”
Lockwood’s heart skipped a beat. “You’ve always been the only one for me,” he said, brushing his nose against hers. “I think I love you.”
She stood on her toes to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I think I love you, too.”
Lockwood grinned. “So you’ll break up with George?”
Lucy snorted and leaned her head against his shoulder. “First thing in the morning. I promise.”
Lockwood would hold her to that, over breakfast the next morning, just to watch the theatrics of his best friends. And if Lucy sported a massive hickey on her neck while it happened, well. Lockwood might not have considered himself a jealous person, but he certainly would describe himself as territorial.