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“This is ridiculous.” Lockwood thunked his head audibly back against the wall of the elevator. His arms were wrapped loosely around his lanky knees, and he’d removed both his coat and his jacket, rolled his sleeves, and even gone as far as undoing the top several buttons of his shirt in concession to the heat and stuffiness of the cramped space. “After everything we’ve had to deal with, I can’t believe we’ve been defeated by a bloody elevator .”
Lucy would have accused him of being overly dramatic, except that she was inclined to agree. They’d been about ten seconds from their floor before the power seemingly cut out, leaving them alone and trapped in a sealed box, suspended over a drop that Lucy was trying very hard not to think about. That had been an hour ago, by Lockwood’s watch. At least the emergency ghost light had kicked on, so they weren’t sitting in total darkness.
“Maybe John Fairfax is getting back at us for…y’know.” She said glumly. “I mean, this is his building.”
“I seriously doubt John Fairfax decided to haunt the elevators of Fairfax Iron on the off-chance he might inconvenience us someday, Luce.” Lockwood told her. “Probably has more to do with the thunderstorm we drove here in…that said, I agree it’s a weird coincidence.”
“Told you we shouldn’t have taken this job.”
“We haven’t taken the job. And we won’t get the chance to at this point, we must’ve missed the meeting by a pretty good margin by now.” Lockwood sighed. “It’s a shame, they requested us specifically, but–maybe it’s for the best. It did feel a little weird to be getting another job from Fairfax Iron, after what happened last time.”
“Weird like ‘I have a bad feeling about this and someone’s going to try to murder us again’?”
“No, just weird like ‘this feels like it’s in poor taste.’” Lockwood was jiggling his knee absentmindedly, and Lucy gritted her teeth, wishing she couldn’t feel the motion shaking the entire elevator.
“Could you not do that?”
Lockwood froze. “Sorry.” He did look chagrined, and sat up, crossing his legs instead. “Bad habit. You alright, Luce?”
“Yeah, fine.” She was, really. Especially when she didn’t think about the drop below them. By her estimate they were up near the eighteenth floor. She really didn’t want to think about how high up that was. But by the look Lockwood was giving her, he was starting to put some of that together himself. It wasn’t as though he didn’t know she had a problem with heights. After all, most of her recent uncomfortable experiences with heights had on some level involved him. There had been Sheen Road, the well at Combe Carey hall, the bloody situation with the drainpipe and the auction house and the Thames, and frankly she was coming to the conclusion that not being able to see the drop didn’t necessarily help, because, yes, alright, she was fine, but her hands were shaking a little bit. She was surprised when Lockwood got up, moving gingerly to keep from shaking the elevator, and sat down next to her, close enough that their sides were pressed together.
“Right.” He said. “Know any party games?”
Lucy’s laugh came out a little shaky. “This isn’t a party, Lockwood.”
“Well, not with that attitude.” He gave her one of his private, teasing smiles, and jostled her shoulder lightly with his own. “Come on. God knows how long we’ll be stuck here, may as well find a way to pass the time.” His hand found hers, and she wished her palms weren’t so sweaty, but she’d gone clammy some time ago with nerves. “Honestly, I’m drawing a blank, so I’ll leave it up to you to choose the game.”
If Lucy were more confident, she would have considered the idea that a lot of party games seem to be an excuse for people to end up kissing. As it was, she was somewhat stumped. She also hadn’t been to very many parties–despite Norrie’s best efforts, her friends at Jacobs hadn’t been much for group celebrations. And Lockwood and Co. tended to go in more for celebratory breakfasts than the sort of party that included games. They had occasionally engaged in a game of Cluedo, but board games weren’t the sort of thing you could play without, well, the board. And Lucy hadn’t brought cards.
“The only thing I can come up with is truth or dare.” She gave Lockwood a sidelong look. “But you don’t like…”
He raised an eyebrow. “Truth? I’m quite good with dares.”
“Talking about yourself, is what I was going to say. I’m well aware you’re keen on dares.” Lucy’s voice was very dry, and Lockwood sighed, letting his head rest against the wall again.
“Well, I haven’t got any brilliant ideas either. So go on, then.”
Lucy blinked at him. “Really? You’re not–”
“It’s fine , Luce.” He sounded slightly snappish, but when Lucy met his statement with silence, he took another deep breath and closed his eyes. “Really. It’s fine. I don’t mind if it’s you.”
She wasn’t sure if he was telling her that, or himself, but it warmed her regardless. Typical Lockwood, though, noticing she was on edge and tying himself in knots to try to fix it, only managing to put them both on edge in the process.
She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed hers back.
“Standard rules then? If you don’t want to answer, you take a dare instead?”
“Sounds easy.”
“Well it’s not exactly meant to be hard . Fine. I’ll start. What did you have for breakfast this morning?”
They were sitting so close she could feel his little huff of a laugh as much as she could hear it. “Easy with the personal questions there, Sherlock. I had toast, and tea. My turn. Did you throw away George’s toothbrush? He thinks I did it. Personally I think it might have just disintegrated from overuse. Or Holly caught sight of it and vaporized it with a look.”
“Oh god, is he still going on about that? Yeah, I binned it weeks ago. Poor thing was old enough it should have been getting a pension, I still don’t know how he manages to do that to the bristles, his new one’s already getting that weird frayed look.”
“I…try not to question his hygiene routines.”
“You’re sworn to secrecy on that, by the way.”
“Oh, obviously. I wouldn’t dream of telling him. It’s your turn, Luce.”
Lucy thought for a moment. “What’s your favorite color?”
“Going for the classics, I see.” Lockwood suddenly seemed fascinated by the ceiling. “It’s, um. Blue.” He cleared his throat, and although it was difficult to tell in the green glow of the ghost light overhead, Lucy thought he might be blushing. “Ever have any pets?”
Lucy shook her head. “I had a tame pigeon once. I thought. I kept feeding it bits of my lunch on my way to school when I was a kid. Turned out it was like, eight different pigeons.” She smiled at Lockwood’s surprised laugh. “They didn’t even look the same. Alright, my turn. Do you put anything in your hair to make it stay in place like that?”
“Oh, god, Lucy. Dare.”
“I knew it. That’s why you smell so good, isn’t it?”
“That’s two questions, and I still choose dare.” Lockwood turned his smile on her. “Glad to know you think I smell nice, though.”
Lucy rolled her eyes, although she could tell she was blushing now. “Alright, fine. I dare you to put some of George’s chili powder on your lunch tomorrow.”
“What, the concentrated cayenne ? That’s just cruel, Luce.”
She smiled brightly at him. “You could have just answered the question.”
“I’d rather keep an air of mystery.”
“About your hair.”
“Yes.”
“Then you only have yourself to blame for the cayenne.”
Lockwood sighed. “You drive a hard bargain. Alright, fine. What’s your least favorite thing about Portland Row?”
Lucy blinked, taken aback. “Oh, that’s not fair.”
“You can always take a dare.”
“Not a chance.” She thought for a moment, but it wasn’t actually hard. “Honestly? The number of stairs up to my room. I mean–I love my room, but sometimes I just want to do laundry without feeling like I’ve run a marathon.”
Lockwood quirked a smile, but it was a bit more distant than any of his usual ones, like he was thinking of something else. “Yeah, I…remember that.” Lucy hesitated slightly, then leaned into his side, quite sure he was thinking of his childhood now, and from the expression on his face, the memory was more bitter than bittersweet.
“My turn, Lockwood.” She said. He nodded, but his eyes remained distant, and she racked her mind for something that would bring him back to the present. “Why’d you hire me?”
Lockwood blinked, clearly still surfacing from wherever his mind had taken him, then turned to her incredulously, eyes sharpening back into focus. “What?”
“Why’d you hire me? I mean you’d had a whole day of applicants, right? I’m just curious, you don’t have to answer.” She had often wondered this. She had wrestled with it for some time, and decided she didn’t actually need an answer, but…on some level she’d like one.
Lockwood rubbed the back of his neck. “Well…the thing is, I…wasn’t really the one who made the decision.”
Now it was Lucy’s turn to be startled. “What?”
“Oh, I very much wanted to hire you, don’t get me wrong. You were obviously very Talented, but–it wasn’t until you stood up to us that I was really sure. And George was the one who made the call.”
Lucy stared at him, thinking back to that moment in her head. “...The biscuit comment? Are you serious!?”
Lockwood ducked his head sheepishly. “Look, George is very particular. And–yes, alright, you two didn’t get on at first, but having someone new move in was a big adjustment for him. It had to be the right person.”
It wasn’t the answer she was hoping for, but she wasn’t sure what she’d been hoping for. “And what about for you?”
“What about me?”
“I mean, it’s your house. It’s your agency. Wasn’t it an adjustment for you too? Did you hire me just because of George? Just because of my Talent?”
Lockwood hesitated, then huffed another tiny laugh. “No. Like I said, people had been lying about the tests all day. And then you came in, and just…wouldn’t take any shit, and didn’t lie to us, and…yeah, it was an adjustment. But not the way you think. You just…felt like what we’d been missing. What we…needed, I guess. And–I don’t mean as an agency, although that too. I was just glad George thought so too, you know how hard he is to convince. I wouldn’t have let you go that easy though, not if you wanted the job.” Their hands were still linked, and Lockwood traced aimless shapes on Lucy’s palm with his finger. “But then he said that thing about the biscuit rule, and I knew I wouldn’t have to convince him at all. You’re…” He seemed almost shy for a moment, and swallowed. “I’m really glad you stayed, Luce.”
“...Me too.”
For a long moment, they were both silent. Lockwood kept tracing shapes on Lucy’s hand, and Lucy suddenly found herself badly wanting more than that, all their tiny shared affections coming to a sharp, painful point somewhere in her chest. She knew she was important to Lockwood, knew he was important to her. But she wanted to know it, to be able to give that importance a name and a shape, to give it the weight it felt like it deserved. She couldn’t keep living on crumbs. She laced her fingers between his, and squeezed his hand tightly. Her hands weren’t shaking anymore, but Lockwood’s breathing had gone a little funny, and so had Lucy’s.
“Hey, Lockwood?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I give you a dare?”
“Yes.”
“...I, um. I dare you to kiss me.”
It’s not how Lucy had imagined this going, and her heart was hammering. As soon as she said the words, she wished she could take them back, afraid she was being presumptuous, afraid she had horribly misread the situation, but–no, there was no mistaking the expression on Lockwood’s face as he turned to her. He looked as scared as she felt, but the other half of what she was feeling was reflected there, too. She was tired of things going unsaid between them. Wouldn’t it be a relief to know ?
“Are you sure, Luce?”
Lucy nodded, before she could lose her nerve. “Unless you don’t want to.”
Lockwood gave her a tiny, shaky smile. “I didn’t say that.” He hesitated before brushing a loose strand of hair from Lucy’s face, and then he was kissing her, gently, like she was made of something extremely delicate and precious, as though he hadn’t seen her kick her way swearing through a plaster wall the night before in search of a hundred year old femur. His hands steadied her shoulders, much the same way he would often steady her during a case, as though he was trying to ground both of them. He pulled back after a moment, looking slightly lost, his breath even shakier than before, and searched her face.
“If it’s alright with you,” he said, “I’d like to do that again, without the excuse of the whole…truth and dare.”
Lucy grinned up at him, more than a little shaky herself. “It wasn’t even my turn in the game, Lockwood.”
His smile lit up his whole face, completely artless. “Oops. Can I take that for a yes, then?”
Lucy shifted so that she was facing him more directly. “Please do.”
The second kiss was longer, and sweeter, and deeper, and Lucy really didn’t want it to end at all, but eventually they were stopped by their mutual need to breathe. Lockwood pressed his forehead to Lucy’s, both of them a bit breathless.
“This is probably…wildly unprofessional, isn’t it?” Lockwood murmured. “I'm your boss. Probably shouldn’t–”
“Lockwood?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up and kiss me again.”
Lockwood laughed, a freer and more relieved laugh than Lucy had ever heard from him, and kissed her again. And again. Then there was a lurch, and a grinding sound, and Lockwood’s arms wrapped instinctively around Lucy as the elevator jerked to life.
“It’s alright, it’s going down, but not fast.” Lockwood helped Lucy to her feet, but didn’t step away from her. The lights turned on–the real ones–and both of them flinched at the sudden brightness.
“I think I’d like a word with Fairfax Iron about their sense of timing.” Lucy muttered. She pressed her hands to her cheeks, feeling the heat radiating off of them. The moment had been broken, and now she was shocked that that had happened. Had that happened?
…Yes, judging by the color of Lockwood’s ears, and the bright spots high on his cheeks, he’d been occupying that strange parallel world right along with her. Lucy suddenly found herself afraid that outside this elevator, outside this strange bubble of time, they’d just go back to the way they’d been carrying on before. After all, they’d kissed, but they hadn’t really talked about what was going on between them, had they? What if Lockwood simply sealed it up, as he was so good at doing? What if they just went back to never acknowledging, never really talking? Lucy wasn’t sure she could stand it.
“Lockwood?” She blurted. He turned to her, and she realized she didn’t have a clue what to say. But some of what she’d been thinking must have shown on her face, because his expression softened, and he took her hand again.
“George is going to be extremely smug.” He said. “I think he may have just won a bet. Maybe he’ll even forget about his bloody toothbrush.”
It was, in its way, an answer. A promise, albeit an unspoken one, that Lockwood wasn’t about to pretend nothing had happened. Lucy exhaled hard, relief sweeping through her, and looked up at him.
“God, who was he betting? And–why?”
Lockwood kept his eyes fixed on the door, although his cheeks were definitely quite pink now. “Apparently…everyone. According to him, half the agencies had bets of some description going. I didn’t ask for details.”
“Christ, maybe we should keep it a secret.” Lucy’s cheeks were flaming again too, at the knowledge that there had been bets . But Lockwood just flashed her a grin, and leaned over to press a kiss to the top of her head.
“No more secrets, right Luce?” He said quietly.
And then the door was sliding open and they were squinting into the even brighter foyer of Fairfax Iron, where inspector Barnes was waiting with a team ready to evacuate the elevators. The elevator hadn’t stopped in quite the right place, and the floor level was several feet from the top of the open doors. Lockwood boosted Lucy up, then passed his coat, jacket, and both of their rapiers up before climbing out himself.
“Evening, Inspector.”
Barnes already looked exasperated. “Why am I not surprised it was you two stuck in there?”
“Come on, you can hardly blame this on us.” Lucy protested.
“Was it the electrical storm?” Lockwood asked.
Barnes sighed. “Yes. Causing blackouts all over the city. Which is why I’m here organizing elevator evacuations rather than catching up on sleep.”
Lockwood gave him a cheery grin. “Well, that’s one less elevator you have to evacuate. Thanks for that, inspector. We’ll let you get back to it.” He took Lucy’s hand again. “Ready to go, Luce?”
“Hours ago.” Lucy led the way towards the door, ready to be home, even if it did mean facing George.
When she glanced behind them, she saw Barnes look after them speculatively for a very long moment, and then pass Wade twenty quid.