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The telly was a hot commodity in the Carlyle household. Like clockwork, it blared on at sundown right alongside the ghost lamps outside in their street. Lucy's earliest memories consisted of her father's complete attention being dedicated to the noisy altar every evening, the stench of sour beer permeating from all manner of glass bottles and cans. The telly was the topic of many a shouting match between her parents not only because of the attention it stole from the household but because of whose turn it was to have that attention stolen and whose turn it was to lounge about ignoring the gaggle of girls Mr and Mrs Carlyle called daughters.
When Lucy's father died, the shouting matches stopped; the person lounging in front of the sofa changed. The house was quieter without the screaming adults so little Lucy could hardly say she felt the loss. There was no love before and no love after. The house was just less turbulent without the overlapping screeching of her mother, the booming roar of her father, the crash and rattle of empty bottles behind all of which the telly was just background noise. This was a relief because loud noises hurt little Lucy’s ears a lot.
The telly was sacred… which was ironic because Lucy never really got to watch anything on it. Her older sisters commandeered the boxy thing during the day. When Lucy came home from school at least one of them was home from their shift at whatever local inns and marts they were working at. Once one sister moved out, the next carried on the tradition. On the rare occasion they needed her distracted, they'd settle Lucy on the couch and put on whatever random cartoon was playing and told her to leave them be. Lucy always listened. It was always fascinating to watch when she got her turn. It only ever came about a few times a month.
Lucy’s experience was far different with the medium than anyone else in her family. Her mother and father cussed out news anchors while Lucy's sisters swooned at dramatic heroes and gasped at backstabbing betrayals. When they sat Lucy in front of the screen, they seemed to have the sense of mind to play something else instead. Lucy didn’t mind that. She didn’t really enjoy what her parents and sisters watched anyway. But unfortunately for little Lucy, sporadic as her turns on the telly were, whatever she got to watch she either didn't get a chance to see the beginning of or find out the ending. If she was quite so fortunate to gain a full viewing of something playing, she rarely got a second chance to enjoy it again.
By the time Lucy was old enough to be the only one left at home, she was already an agent at Jacobs and had no time to watch anything for herself. She had no interest in the dramatized soaps her sisters used to watch and she already lived enough of The Problem to see it repeatedly discussed on the news. And cartoons... they felt too childish for Lucy who wanted nothing more than to stay a child. To be normal. She always worried that if she gave in and indulged in something as simple as the colorful cacophony on screen, her self-pity would swallow her whole. In the rundown town of Cheviot Hills, as an agent of the drunkard Jacobs and living in her mother's miserable home, self-pity would only ever get her killed. In soul if not in body.
It wasn't until she moved into 35 Portland Row that Lucy got a chance to enjoy the simple pleasure of sinking into the sofa and watching the telly for nothing more than mindless entertainment. The boys didn’t have a habit of watching it so in the beginning Lucy didn’t bother with it either. Lockwood preferred the newspapers and gossip rags to get his information about the going-ons in London and George found the petty soaps all too obnoxious and airheaded to consider viewing them for pleasure. Lockwood could be seen indulging in an episode or two now and then but he too found them a bit too repetitive in structure to hold his attention for too long. Lucy didn’t have anything she liked to view at all, never got a chance to find out what she liked, so she never had reason to turn on the TV herself.
It started simple and small enough. A case that almost went wrong left them jittery, lingering with a cold malaise that felt like it had leeched into their bones. George had a concussion and needed watching. Lockwood and Lucy were too wound up to sleep either way. They all collapsed into the living room and after some tea and biscuits, Lockwood shuffled around in the library before returning with a dusty stack of boxes, larger than cassettes but thinner than VHS tapes.
The first movie the three of them watched together as a family was titled The Owls of Gahoole. Perhaps not the most relaxing watch after an already alert night, but it kept their attention and it kept George awake long enough until the danger of his concussion had passed. They all fell asleep in the living room and woke up with cricks in their necks. But it was worth it. They all seemed to agree on that front.
Movie nights became a more regular occurrence after that. They watched all variety of films. From Noir detective films, to adventure thrillers and cheesy romances that always left Lucy thinking of her sisters. They made their way through the never-ending stack Lockwood owned. Lucy devoured every single one, amazed by the sheer variety of media she never knew had existed. Her family could barely afford cable and that too because her mother would rather pay for that than fresh vegetables. It had never occurred to Lucy that movies could be saved to rewatch over and over again. Despite the new variety she was suddenly privy to courtesy of Lockwood’s parents, Lucy found, however, that her favorites were still the colorful cartoons she only remembered glimpses of now as a child.
She found out when they put Sleeping Beauty in one time. It had started out as a joke because they all couldn't stop arguing. Lucy had picked up the first disc she found and placed it in. She hadn't even realized she was at the edge of her seat enjoying it as if it was a thriller and not a children’s fairytale, until the hour and a half long feature ended and the boys were looking at her in amusement rather than the screen.
"That was amazing!" Lucy had sat back, well and truly exhilarated by the experience. She frowned seeing the boys’ faces. They didn't seem upset, just confused and a tad amused. They seemed to do the thing where they talked over her head with silent glances but before she could interrupt their private parley was over.
"Glad you enjoyed it, Luce," Lockwood said cheerily before she could ask if something was wrong. "Great pick."
He sounded genuine enough and Lucy knew he wasn’t lying since he’d promised her he wouldn’t. George rolled his eyes at the pair before agreeing. Then he grumbled something about being tired before shuffling off to bed. Lucy found she still wasn't quite sleepy yet.
"Do you want to watch another?" Lockwood asked softly. They did that sometimes, the two of them. After George left, they'd pop in another DVD and let it play. Sometimes they fell asleep and other times they didn't, parting at the stairs to the attic after lingering touches and longing glances. But it felt nice. Something just for them. Lucy always tried not to think too hard about what that meant. Sometimes she had a feeling George purposely left early too. She tried not to think too hard about what that implied either.
"You pick this time," Lucy told him. "I need to use the loo." By the time she came back and settled into the couch cushions, Lockwood had already had the next movie queued and ready to go.
He settled into the couch next to her, pressed against her from shoulder to hip. Lucy let her head fall onto his shoulder shivering a little, hoping it was a believable enough excuse to get that close. Not that they usually needed one. Lockwood immediately took the bait though, wrapping the blanket tighter around them, letting his arms fall around her as an extra layer of comfort.
"Cold?" he asked softly, his breath a soft breeze on her temple. Lucy shivered again, a completely natural reaction this time. It still wasn't because of the cold.
She hummed in response, already focused on the film.
It was another animated movie. The little Lucy who she’d buried deep inside, danced with glee at the vibrant colors and artistic strokes. And then the story started… and it was about a little girl just like her. A little girl with a horrible family and a happy ending where she was free of them. A happy ending where she found a handsome prince who she would otherwise never have been able to meet if it weren’t for a brave chance taken.
If anyone asked, Lucy would have denied enjoying it as much as she did. Her whole life she'd grown up needing to be tough and to hold her own. Something about watching these princess films felt cathartic though. She wondered if it had something to do with the childhood she was never properly allowed to have.
Perhaps it was these thoughts about her lackluster childhood with her own ruthless mother and absent-minded sisters, perhaps it was the movie about the girl with an evil mother and selfish sisters, perhaps it was the fact that Cinderella escaped and got to be happy just like Lucy did after all the suffering...
Lucy didn't realize that by the time the movie ended, her cheeks were streaked with tears.
"Lucy dove, why are you crying?" Lockwood asked softly. His gentle hands cupped her cheeks, handling her as if she was porcelain glass, as he wiped the tears away with his thumb. He looked worried but also a little amused. "Did Cinderella move you that much?" he teased, lightheartedly. There was weight behind it though. He knew what she'd been through, was putting his own pieces together as to why she was crying but didn’t want to assume.
Lucy sniffled loudly before shrugging and smiling the brightest smile she could muster. She might have been embarrassed at any other time, with any other person. But this was Lockwood. She didn’t need to hide from him.
"I seem to like happy endings in these things," she tried for a laugh. She didn't want to ruin the mood by talking about her baggage now. Lockwood seemed to understand. He always did.
"This was Jessica's favorite when we were kids," he told her instead. Lucy looked up at him astonished, as if unaware older sisters could like such a childish sort of movie instead of long-winded dramas with poor acting and exaggerated emotions.
Seeing her interest, Lockwood continued, "She used to watch it all the time. I got so tired of it, I once hid the DVD."
Lucy giggled at the image of a disgruntled five-year-old Lockwood hiding the DVD box in an attempt to escape rewatching Cinderella for the nth time. She supposed he'd suffered much the same as her too. George as well. Being the youngest meant they all got less turns and less opinion on what to watch on the telly. It relieved her to know that. Her childhood had lacked a lot, but it still felt nice to know there were some experiences she lived that were still normal… just only a little weighed down by trauma.
"Mum made me give it back. Said I could watch whatever I wanted in my turn so it wasn't fair of me to hide Jessica's when it was hers. It felt so boring to me when I was little. I was more into superheroes then. Wore my costume and everything when it was my turn to watch the telly."
The picture in her mind kept growing in detail. A tiny Lockwood standing with arms crossed wearing a superhero onesie while Jessica ignored his annoyance and continued to watch her princess movies in a poofy pink dress.
"She made me play the Prince to her Princess sometimes and I always ended up pretending the Prince was a superhero. Jessica hated that."
Lucy couldn't help her giggles even as a pang of painful realization hit her heart. Lockwood's childhood with his sister had been much different from hers even if they could relate on some things. Her sisters never played with her. Only Mary used to… and eventually she became busy with her own friends too. Lucy didn't say anything though, choosing to enjoy the memories Lockwood was sharing with her so she wouldn't have to open herself raw just yet. She was relieved they didn’t seem to be painful memories; she’d feel too guilty if he distracted her with things that brought him pain. But Lockwood seemed to find the memories sweet too because he smiled, eyes unfocused as he relived the past.
Lucy smiled up at him when he finally seemed to come back to the present; eyes fond as he focused back on her.
"Now that you're older what do you think?" Lucy asked.
She tried not to pretend the reason she asked wasn't just plain curiosity. In reality, she didn't want for him to think her childish for enjoying cartoons still. A part of her knew she had no reason to be embarrassed. She was entitled to whatever entertainment she so pleased especially after the kind of hellish jobs they worked day in and night out. If she wanted to be a child in the safety of her home then so be it. Yet still, she wanted the confirmation that Lockwood didn't think any less of her for liking something so simple and innocent. Something so childish. Just like she and George didn’t think any less of him for reading his ridiculous gossip magazines.
Lockwood seemed to know what assurance she was looking for though. What she needed. He somehow always knew. He looked at her with a heavy fondness, eyes molten and glittering in the firelight like the fairy godmother's magic from the movie. Their faces were close, too close. Lucy's knees were tucked beneath her. Cocooned in Lockwood’s arms, she felt exceptionally at home.
"I think it's not as bad as little me used to pretend it was," he whispered conspiratorially. His smile was wide but it wasn't his usual gigawatt fare. No this was the smile he kept just for her. He added a wink at the end as if he'd shared a particularly exciting secret and Lucy hoped the dancing flames of the dwindling fire hid her blush. Suddenly the blanket around them was too warm but Lucy dared not move for fear Lockwood would jump away. She quite liked his arms around her.
"So you won't mind if I watch it every time it’s my turn then?" she teased, voice low as if she was returning his secret. "What if I decide to wear a poofy dress and act like a princess and order you about. Then what?"
"You wouldn't!" Lockwood gasped, but his brown eyes twinkled. The warm feeling in her chest told her he'd do anything she asked even without the princess dress.
Lucy held her serious poker face, hoping he wouldn't realize every minute expression of his had her mesmerized. It worked. Lockwood heaved a dramatic sigh at her unchanging expression. He leaned forward, knocking his forehead against hers and Lucy couldn't keep the giggles from slipping past her lips this time.
"If I must, Princess Lucy. I suppose as your willing Prince I'll have no choice but to rewatch this again and again," he mournfully declared.
Princess Lucy. She quite liked that, far though she was from any kind of Princess. Her willing Prince... Her beam was splitting her face now. She could feel the heat emanating from his cheeks, or perhaps that was her own blush.
"But you know," Lockwood continued sagely, "it's George you'll have to watch out for. I don't think he'll be quite as amenable to these terms."
"I'll sort him out," Lucy hummed back, eyes closing in contentment as she pulled away just enough to settle her head on his shoulder again. They were both perfectly able to make the trek upstairs but Lucy didn’t want to and Lockwood seemed to have no complaints.
She fell asleep dreaming of princesses escaping wicked families and finding charming princes with their disgruntled (and for some reason trouserless) Dukes who lived in cozy cluttered castles where each brick was permeated with the smell of tea and burnt toast.
For once, Lucy didn't mind when she woke up and got to think of herself as one of those princesses too.
She stole the DVD case.
She didn't mean to and if George knew he’d probably buy her a book on kleptomania for what seems to be a recurring habit of hers. But she had a TV in her room. And despite the whispered banter with Lockwood, she didn't actually want to subject him to repeated rewatches of the same movie just because she liked it. It was now her favorite but Lucy figured Lockwood had already been subjected to enough rewatches of it as a kid. He didn't need Lucy to be doing the same.
The fact that it was Jessica's favorite made her hesitate. Perhaps Lockwood wouldn't want her taking something of his sister's? But then again it was only upstairs in the attic. She wasn't leaving the house with it.
In the end she took it, popping it into her own DVD player. She cuddled herself in her blankets and fell asleep watching it often when she felt herself slip into the grief about missing out on the childhood she wished she'd had. When she’d see little girls playing in the park on her way to Arif’s and miss Norrie with an ache that left her hollow. When she saw sisters in matching frocks and in matching braids with a mother who bought them candy treats and felt the green envy fill her until she felt she’d choke on it. She didn’t like thinking about those feelings. She didn’t like feeling those feelings. The bright cartoon made them disappear if only for a little bit.
It never felt as good as the first night watching it. Lockwood cuddling her always made things so much better. But it was still a beautiful movie and Lucy found she never grew tired of it, no matter how many times she rewatched it. Lockwood had bought her a variety of different versions of the same story. Cinderella was a popular fairytale after all. He’d even bought her the book version, scattering his gifts about the house then pretending they’d turned up from nowhere. The glossy sheen on the covers betrayed they were all new, and not from his childhood collection. Lucy loved all of them. Every version of the story was something fun and different. Yet she couldn’t help but always return to the animated version though. The one that was also Jessica’s favorite.
Lockwood discovers she's stolen it a few weeks later. She's sick and her head hurts so she doesn't realize when the boys come back from the case they went on. Lockwood comes up to check on her and instead finds her bundled in her blankets, halfway through the mice mending Cinderella's dress.
"So that's where that went!" He exclaims upon seeing what's playing on her screen.
Lucy pouts and refuses to meet her eyes in her shame. He laughs at her sorry state, lying in her cocoon of blankets with tissues scattered all around. If she'd had more energy in her to feel embarrassed she would have but she can't find it in herself to care or feel guilty that he's discovered her theft.
"Sorry," she mumbles. "How was the case?"
Lockwood only shakes his head as he settles himself to sit beside her. One of hands make their way into her hair, brushing the messy strands out of her face. The other finds one of hers and clutches it from inside her cocoon.
"It went alright," he tells her. "Just a Stone Knocker and a Lurker, like we suspected. George was wondering if you were feeling up to a movie night but it seems you're already having a little party of your own up here."
Lucy does feel up to a movie night but she doesn't know if she wants to get out of bed. She relays as much.
"We could come up here with the tea and snacks?" Lockwood offers. "Or I could carry you downstairs, blankets and all."
They both burst into giggles at that. Lockwood most certainly cannot carry her downstairs without the blankets let alone with them.
"Up here is fine," Lucy assures him. "Just bring up whatever you two want to watch."
When Lockwood comes back he's in his pajamas and a tea tray laden with soup and the dinner she didn't eat earlier.
"Where's George?" Lucy asks when he doesn't show up behind Lockwood. Lockwood blushes although why Lucy doesn't know.
"He went out to meet Flo. Said he forgot they'd scheduled a nighttime stroll."
Lucy shrugs, taking the words at face value. If Lockwood and George discussed anything else which was causing him to act oddly, she was too sick to bother finding out.
She looks around when Lockwood settles himself next to her comfortably.
"Where's the movie?" she asks him confused. He didn't bring any of the DVD cases.
Lockwood only gets more comfortable, leaning around her to grab his tea from the tray. "I thought we could watch Cinderella since you're already watching it."
"We don't have to," Lucy insists. It’s his turn to pick anyway.
"It’s too far to go back down now," Lockwood complains, sinking further into her pillows as if to emphasize his point, spilling a little of his tea on himself in the process. When he’s scrambled for a tissue and wiped it away he turns back to her. "Just rewind to the start and we're all good to go."
Lucy does and just like that they begin another little tradition. Whenever Lockwood knows she's feeling particularly upset or ill or lonely, he brings her tea and puts on Cinderella and holds her while they watch it together.
"I'm sorry I'm wearing it out so much," Lucy whispers to him once in the dead of the night. He's never said anything to indicate his upset at her taking the film or rewatching it with her all the time. In fact, usually he’s the one who offers. But Lucy can't help but worry anyway. She’s not used to being cared for in this way. Not used to being allowed to choose what she wants again and again and again.
She feels herself relax under his touch as he only pulls her closer, tucking her under his chin so she can feel his heartbeat lull her to sleep.
"Jessica would have been happy someone's continuing her legacy to torment me with this movie." He chuckles and she can feel the vibration of his chest against her cheek and the steady beat of his heart. "Really Luce," he whispers then, more serious. "I'm glad you love it so much. It feels good to watch it with someone again."
She has a nightmare.
She was back in the cursed mill where it all went wrong. The only color she could see past the shadows of death was the ghost-lock white of Norrie's eyes. The only thing she could hear was the screaming of her old team and the wails of the Changer that killed them all. This time, she wasn't locking Paul in to save herself though. It was Lockwood. Lockwood with ghost touch spreading up his arm with George’s screams mingled with the rest of her team’s begging for help. Lockwood watching her with sad eyes as he yelled at her to save herself. Lockwood forcing the heavy iron doors to clang shut so Lucy could be safe from where she’s rooted on the floor next to Norrie’s frozen body. She turns to look outside, sobbing for help. Jacob leaves them behind.
She wakes up crying and Lockwood is there. He's always there. She launches herself into his arms and he shushes her, whispering words she can't understand but is grateful for anyway against her temple. She doesn't stop shaking for fifteen minutes. He holds her for twenty-five.
When she finally pulls away, the look in her eyes is enough for him to know she doesn't want to talk about it.
"Tea?" He asks instead and Lucy nods. She goes with him to the kitchen, lingering by his side as he goes through the motions of heating the kettle and making her toast. Lucy knicks some biscuits, deciding its easier to beg for George’s apology than to wake him up in the dead of the night for permission to break rotation. They all rarely get to sleep a night through and she doesn’t think George would appreciate a boot being chucked at his door nearing midnight over biscuits they easily restock of all things.
They come back up to her room. She's still pretty out of it though because before she realizes, Lockwood pulls her into an all-encompassing hug. She feels so secure in his arms, as if she was a puzzle made to fit against his pieces exactly. He doesn't let go until she does and then pushes her towards the bathroom.
"Go wash your face, love," Lockwood tells her, gently. She still feels her skin-crawling from the horrible nightmare and does as he tells her, knowing she won't be able to calm down until she splashes some cold water in her face.
When she comes back, he's got her favorite Cinderella queued up again. He's arranged her blankets so they're no longer a tangled impressionist artwork of her terror and her favorite biscuits are already in a plate next to her tea.
Lucy could cry for all the love he's shown her. She settles in next to him and they rewatch her favorite film again. Lucy can feel Lockwood's gaze burning on to her. He's watching her as if she's his favorite film.
Tea drunk and biscuits eaten; she feels much better especially with Lockwood's warm weight pressed up against her side. His arms are around her again and she thinks back to the day she walked into Portland Row and met Lockwood for the first time. Something in her had known that he was the person who would set things right... who would finally make her feel less alone.
Fleetingly she wonders if that’s what Cinderella feels when she meets the prince. Undeniably safe with a soul-bound stranger after so long living in fear of people who should be her family. The hopeless romantic in her can't help but adore the part of the film where they dance, under the moonlight, away from prying eyes. Lockwood has probably noticed because the last few events they've been invited to he's finally gained the courage to ask her to dance. Lucy's still terribly poor at it but she does love him for trying all the same. It’s never as quiet and the music is never as serene as she wants it to be. Yet somehow still, she does feel like it’s just them, even among the posh crowd where she never quite feels like she belongs.
She's so lost in thought, her eyes trained on that favorite part of the movie as Cinderella enters the palace, that she doesn't realize Lockwood is pulling away from her until he gently tugs his arm out from where she has both of hers wrapped around it. Her noise of protest is cut short when he comes around to her side of the bed and does something she doesn't expect. He bows, right alongside the Prince on screen, and offers his hand in a silent plea to dance.
Lucy feels her heart warm and her eyes tear up at the tender affection in his gaze. She's been lost in thought and all the while he's been worried she's still stuck in her head thinking horrible things because of her nightmare.
The film keeps playing so Lucy scrambles out of bed to catch his hand, blinking the happy tears away. Her heart flutters as he presses a kiss to the back of her palm.
Mm
Mm
"You're supposed to curtsy, princess," Lockwood teases but he rests his hand on her waist and brings the other to his shoulder before holding the other all the same.
So this is love
Mm
So this is love
"What are you doing, Lockwood?" Lucy whispers, afraid to break the moment if she speaks any louder, as she lets him lead her in a gentle sway.
"Dancing, of course." Lockwood smiles. It’s a cheeky grin but it's dripping with tender softness. "We're at a ball."
He nods his head towards her little television screen where Cinderella and her Prince Charming are dancing and Lucy laughs, her eyes twinkling with deep fondness.
So this is what makes life divine
"In our pajamas?"
"Our finest ones!" Lockwood insists. "The best silk in all the land."
They both look down at the same time. She's in a faded cotton nightie and matching pair of trousers and her hair, up in a tiny bun earlier is now falling out into its usual messy waves around her face again. He's wearing a pair of sweatpants and a grey t-shirt. Her nightie is actually a hand-me-down from one of her sisters. It fits her strangely and is practically falling apart with the amount of girls it’s been through to get to her. The faded blue fabric is practically grey at this point. Lockwood’s t-shirt isn’t much better. It’s worn through and has a tea stain that refuses to be washed out from a similar night months earlier.
They both burst into giggles.
I'm all aglow, mm
And now I know (and now I know)
The key to all heaven is mine
Their eyes meet, gazes equally tender when they stop laughing. There's no need for words anymore. Lucy lets go of the hand holding Lockwood's. She slides it up to his shoulder and he immediately places his on her hip. She burns at his touch and from the hooded look in his eyes she knows he feels the same.
They're much closer now, eyes still locked. Lucy can feel his gentle breathe brush against her forehead. Her heart soars at the proximity and the effect she has on him; the same effect he knows he has on her.
My heart has wings, mm
And I can fly
I'll touch every star in the sky
The worn carpet beneath their bare feet is soft. The glow of the green ghost light outside her attic window clashes with the warm amber of her bedside lamp. It illuminates Lockwood's sharp features and blends them into soft night shadows. The depth of emotion in his gentle gaze makes Lucy feel weak in the knees.
This is better than all the dances they've shared at all the posh parties they’ve been to. Lucy can't deny that watching the very moment they're dancing to didn't make her long for a moment in a fancy dress where Lockwood asked her to dance where it would be just the two of them. Those are impossible to come by in crowded social galas. Lucy knows it wasn't for lack of trying. Lockwood had tried to do his best to create such a moment for them before, romantic that he is. It had failed horribly but she’d treasured that dance and every dance since their first all the same.
Here, in their pajamas, after a nightmare. This is perfect. Better than anything she could have imagined.
So this is the miracle
That I've been dreaming of
Lucy’s parents had never loved each other and her sisters all left without looking back; no chance of acting as any sort of role model or standard of romance for their youngest sister. Never in her wildest dreams as a child could Lucy have imagined finding something like this... Something she hadn't even realized could exist before Lockwood.
As if he knows what she’s thinking, Lucy feels the press of Lockwood's chapped lips softly against her forehead and she closes her eyes in delight. He pulls her even closer, bringing her head to rest against his shoulder and Lucy lets out a sigh, wrapping her own arms tighter around his neck. Her heart skips at the soft pressure as he kisses her hair this time. Her nightmare is long forgotten.
Like always, when it comes to him, she feels safe. She feels at home.
Mm
Mm
So this is love
She feels loved.