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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
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—you are in love
“Ready to go home, Luce?” Lockwood gracefully leaned against the wall next to her and smiled.
Lucy stood and brushed some dust off her skirt before grabbing her kit bag. “Yep, just finished packing everything up.”
“Good. The cab should be here any minute if you don’t mind waiting outside.”
“Not at all,” she said, giving him a small smile. “I could use some fresh air.”
“Let’s get out of this charming abode then?” He caught her eye and winked, as they exited the dark mansion that they’d just rid of a Spector. The case had been simple enough that the two of them had volunteered to handle it on their own.
The temperature had plummeted during their case, and the brisk early December air almost took Lucy’s breath away. She immediately huddled against Lockwood’s side, as they waited for their cab on the sidewalk. Without saying anything, Lockwood drew her into the circle of his arms. She idly ran her gloved fingers over the buttons on his coat.
“Did you see the paper this morning?” he asked, his breath visible in the frigid air. “It’s almost been a year since the Chelsea Outbreak.”
Lucy started at that sentence. “A year? It feels more like a lifetime with everything that’s happened since then.”
“That’s true,” Lockwood agreed. “Almost a year since Aickmere’s—and all that happened after that.”
“A year since I left,” Lucy said, giving him a rueful look as she addressed the obvious. It made her head spin a little to think that it had only been a year since the they had fought so much—especially now that so much had changed between them.
“Ah, but then you came back to me.” Lockwood smiled again, the sight warming her from the inside out. “And then, we solved the Problem, faced Marissa Fittes, went to the Other Side…”
“Twice. And we nearly died about a hundred other times,” she said wryly.
“It’s been quite an eventful year, hasn’t it? But we made it through it all, Luce,” Lockwood said, his eyes softening. “No matter the odds, we made it back to each other.”
Lucy pressed her face into his neck, unable to hold back her own smile. “We did.”
They stood like that for a moment before Lockwood nudged her in the side. “Look up,” he said.
“Hmm?” she said, raising her head.
“It’s snowing, Luce.” It had begun to flurry, the light of the nearby ghost lamps softly illuminated the swirling gusts.
“I love the first snow,” Lucy said, unable to hide her delight at the sight.
“I know,” Lockwood said softly. “It’s quite beautiful, isn’t it?” He adjusted her hat to better cover her ears.
“Before it gets slushy and gray, it makes everything feel like a snow globe,” Lucy said wistfully. Snow always reminded her of a few rare, treasured memories from her hometown—going sledding with her older sisters before they’d gotten too busy, a snowball fight with Norrie and her old teammates, cups of hot tea sitting by the window.
They stood together in the silence for several moments, basking in the sight of the white flakes slowly falling to coat the street.
“Luce,” Lockwood said, getting her attention by touching her cheek. He kissed her then, sweet and slow, and Lucy felt herself smile against his mouth.
“Did you know,” Lockwood said. His nose was turning pink as it brushed against hers. “I’ve wanted to do that all night.”
Lucy’s smile widened further. “Me too.” Glistening snowflakes mingled with the grey strands of Lockwood’s impeccably tousled hair, and more snowflakes caught on his eyelashes. Just as she was considering kissing him again, the headlights of the night cab appeared in the distance.
They slid into the cab together, their shoulders brushing in the back seat. While Lockwood made small talk with their driver (“You never know who they might know, Lucy”), she let her mind wander, playing back the kiss in the snow on the sidewalk and so many other treasured memories from the past several months.
By the time they made it back to Portland Row, it was after midnight. Lockwood made mugs of hot cocoa, while she assembled a cozy nest of blankets on the couch. As they sat together, talking softly, the dim light caught the golden chain of the sapphire glowing around her neck. She saw Lockwood look at it and smile again.
However, even with Lockwood’s solid presence at her side, Lucy soon felt a wave of sleepiness wash over her. The living room was dark and cozy, and if she stayed much longer, she would never want to leave. She let herself lean into Lockwood for a moment longer before reluctantly saying, “I think I’m going to shower, so I can go to bed.”
Lockwood nodded, ducking down to give her a quick kiss. “I’ll do the washing up.”
“See you in the morning then?”
“Yes. Lucy, I—” Lockwood paused for a long moment, and Lucy looked at him curiously. He gave her another smile. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Lockwood,” she said, getting to her feet.
“Luce,” Lockwood said abruptly, catching her hand. “About tonight. I was thinking that since it’s so cold, maybe you could sleep in my room.” A look of nervousness flickered across his features. “If you want to, that is. It’s fine if you would prefer to sleep in your own bed.”
The unusual vulnerability made Lucy’s breath catch in her throat. This was one of her favorite sides of Lockwood—the uncertain teenage boy he so rarely let anyone else see.
Over the past several months, they'd slowly explored the boundaries of their new relationship. While they still occasionally took afternoon naps together in the library, they’d mostly transitioned those to Lockwood’s bedroom. (After all, napping devolved into snogging more frequently than not these days.) It had also become increasingly common for one or both of them to fall asleep either in her bed in the attic or in Lockwood's room after a late night. However, every time Lockwood had caught her nodding off in the attic in the past, he’d simply kissed her goodnight before returning to his own room. And while Lucy had drifted off in his bed on several occasions, it had never been intentional. She had never stayed the entire night, opting instead to slip out early in the morning.
What Lockwood was offering now was different; she’d never had a direct invitation before, and the idea made her feel a bit giddy.
“Of course I want to,” Lucy said, smiling up at him. “That sounds nice.”
Lockwood instantly looked relieved. “Great. I’ll just take a quick shower and meet you there.”
Lucy squeezed his hand before heading up to the attic. She left her dirty clothes in a heap on the floor and ducked under the stream of hot water in her tiny bathroom, relishing the warmth for as long as possible. Afterwards, she pulled on her pajamas and brushed her teeth, before traipsing back down the steps.
Lockwood was already sitting at the end of his bed, waiting for her in his own pajamas. All of the lights were off except his bedside lamp, making his brown eyes glow. His still shower damp hair flopped over his brow.
He immediately held his arms out to her, and Lucy curled into his embrace. They sat together for a moment before Lockwood pulled them both gently down on the bed towards the pillows. They burrowed together under the layers of warm quilts, Lockwood tucking himself behind her.
“Thank you for staying with me,” Lockwood said quietly, his face nestled in the crook of her neck. “I sleep better when I’m with you.”
Lucy felt a warm feeling start in her chest and spread out to her fingertips from his words and his proximity. “I do, too.”
“I’ll bring you tea and toast in the morning,” Lockwood promised, his cold nose brushing against the side of her throat and making her shiver before he pressed a kiss to her shoulder.
“Looking forward to it. Now sleep,” she chided, thinking of his ever present dark circles.
“G’night, Luce,” he murmured, his arm tightening around her.
When Lucy woke up again, the lights were still out. The two of them had shifted in sleep so they were facing each other, and Lockwood’s arm was still draped across her waist. His steady breath was gently blowing her hair across her forehead. She slowly blinked her eyes open to see him gazing at her.
“Hi,” Lockwood whispered, a strange look on his face, as the moonlight cast shadows over his elegant features. There were still several hours to go until dawn, and his room was dark and hushed, as snow continued to fall outside.
“Hi,” Lucy whispered back. “Why are you awake?”
“Not used to sleeping through the night, I suppose.”
“Were you watching me sleep?”
“Maybe.”
Lucy smiled at him, watching his eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiled back. “What are you thinking about in the middle of the night?” she asked as she scooted even closer, eager to soak up his body heat.
“You,” Lockwood said simply, bringing his hand up to her face and slowly stroking his thumb along her jaw. “I’ve just been thinking that…” He paused for a long moment. “You’re my best friend, Lucy.”
She closed her eyes, soaking up his touch and luxuriating in the words. “You’re my best friend, too. Come here?” She motioned for him to roll over so that she could curl against his back.
“Am I just your personal teddy bear?” Lockwood murmured, as she wound her arm around him and tangled their legs together.
“Shut up. I can tell you like this.”
He laughed softly—a real laugh, not the fake one he used in front of clients or for interviews. “Guilty as charged.”
“Try and get some more sleep, okay?” Lucy kissed the back of his neck, and Lockwood let out a contented, sleepy sigh. She intertwined their hands together on his chest, right over his heart, before drifting off again.
The next morning, Lockwood was gone when Lucy woke up, but his side of the bed was still warm. She slowly stirred, feeling a smile creep over her face at the memory of their dreamy middle of the night conversation.
As Lucy stretched and sat up, letting the blankets fall to her waist, she spied a familiar Polaroid tucked into the edge of Lockwood’s mirror. Holly had taken the photo of the two of them earlier that fall; Lockwood’s arm was around her shoulders, and while she was giving a small smile to the camera, Holly had caught Lockwood off guard so instead of facing forward, he was looking at her and grinning.
The door creaked open, and Lockwood appeared, holding a small tray. “You’re awake,” he said, seemingly surprised, as he shut the door behind him.
“Yes, I just woke up. What do you have there?”
“Your tea and toast, as promised.” Lockwood sat the tray down next to her on the bed with a flourish, looking immensely pleased with himself.
“You remembered?”
“Of course I did.” He looked puzzled at the question. “You know I keep my word.”
“That was very thoughtful,” Lucy said, offering him a small smile in return. While Lockwood had always been considerate, she still wasn't accustomed to the easily offered affection he now seemed to delight in giving her.
As she reached for her tea, she couldn’t hold back a shiver, and Lockwood’s brow immediately furrowed in concern. “Are you cold, Luce?”
She shrugged, glancing at her short sleeves ruefully. Now that she wasn’t under the blankets and she didn’t have Lockwood’s body heat, his bedroom was rather chilly. “A little. These aren’t my warmest pajamas. Probably a poor choice for December.”
“Let me see what I can find.” Lockwood turned and dug through his chest of drawers. “Here,” he said, tossing her his gray sweatshirt. It was far too big, and the sleeves almost covered her hands, but it was soft and cozy and smelled like Lockwood so she couldn’t complain.
He gestured toward the plate, as he sat back down next to her. “Eat before it gets cold. Sorry the toast is a little burnt.”
“I don’t mind. And since you’re serving me breakfast in bed, I’ll still give you extra boyfriend points for it,” she teased.
“Boyfriend points?” Lockwood echoed, rolling the words over in his mouth. “I think I like the sound of that.”
“What do you mean?” she asked curiously, pausing before she took a bite.
“I guess I’m still not quite used to hearing you use that word, Luce,” he admitted, scratching his nose.
Lucy supposed that wasn’t surprising. The two of them seldomly used the terms boyfriend and girlfriend to describe their relationship. It was rare for them to use words at all. After all, putting labels to their feelings hadn't historically been easy for them.
Lockwood hesitated for another long moment before saying, “If anything, girlfriend seems like it’s not enough for what I feel for you, Luce.” He shifted slightly on the bed, looking like he was nervous that he had said too much.
Lucy felt her face warm; somehow Lockwood always managed to make her blush. “I know what you mean,” she admitted. Their gazes locked, and a quiet look of understanding flashing between them before they both looked away. In moments like this, it was always easier for her to fall back on their familiar banter.
“You know, I’ll accept any label besides asset,” Lucy said, taking another large bite of her toast and giving him a smirk.
Lockwood groaned and hid his face in the pillows. “I'll never live that down, will I?”
“Never,” she said solemnly, taking a sip of her tea. It was made perfectly to her preferences, as always. “Maybe when we’re eighty. If you catch me on a generous day.”
He arched an eyebrow at her, a grin sneaking onto his face. “Planning on sticking around that long, are you, Luce?”
“Shut up,” she said, feeling her flush deepen. “You know what I meant.” Trying to put the depth of her feelings about Lockwood into words still made her stomach feel like it was doing summersaults.
“I do,” he said softly, his expression turning serious.
“And you’ll turn eighty first anyway,” she said, clearing her throat and attempting to lighten the mood.
“I’ll still be just as handsome and charming. Very distinguished, I wager,” Lockwood said, smirking.
“And just as humble,” she said, rolling her eyes and making him chuckle.
After they were finished with their breakfast, Lockwood moved the discarded tray and dishes out of the way before pulling her into his arms again. Lucy found herself resting her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes, despite just recently waking up for the day. She felt so content that she started drifting off to sleep again.
Lockwood must have felt the same way, because soon she felt him gently guiding her down on the bed until they were both horizontal again.
“Let’s stay here for a bit longer, Luce,” he said, lazily dusting featherlight kisses down the side of her face.
“Shouldn’t we get up?” she murmured sleepily, even as she curled closer into him.
“Why?” he replied. “It’s Sunday; we don’t have any plans. No cases, nowhere to be. It’s still snowing. George is already out. I think he went to check on Flo.”
“Seems weird to not do anything.”
“I think we could use the rest. It’s been a busy week, and I’ve missed you,” Lockwood confessed, pressing a firm kiss against her temple.
Lucy wrapped her arm around his middle as she smiled at him. “You spend almost all your time with me.”
“You and a bunch of other people. Not like this.”
“Oh, I see. You missed being alone with me then.”
“I did,” Lockwood admitted. “It’s nice.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Nice? I thought it was the stuff of your dreams.”
He leaned over and kissed her neck in the way he’d already learned always made her gasp. “Maybe when you’re not making fun of me. Anyway, who could blame me if I want you all to myself?”
“That’s true,” she allowed, trailing her fingers down his torso. Lockwood flinched slightly, almost as if he was trying not to laugh.
“Lockwood,” Lucy said, a dangerous idea occurring to her for the first time. “Are you potentially… ticklish?”
“No,” he said immediately, but she saw right through his denial.
“Hmm.” Lucy traced her fingers more firmly up and down his sides. “So you won’t mind if I do this?”
“No, not at all,” Lockwood said, clearly trying to keep a straight face.
“Or this…?” she said, moving her hands to his stomach and starting to tickle him in earnest.
Lockwood managed to hold out for a respectable five seconds before succumbing to laughter. Soon he was gasping for breath. “You’re cruel to me, Luce,” he whispered without any malice behind it, once she finally took pity on him and stopped.
Lucy ruffled his hair affectionately, a satisfied grin on her face. “Can you blame me if I like seeing you laugh?”
He buried his head in her shoulder. “There are so many other ways to make me laugh though.”
“Like what?”
“You can always make fun of Quill. That usually does the trick.”
She shook her head at him, holding back a laugh of her own.
“Or—well, just being with you makes me happy. I think about you all the time, Lucy,” Lockwood said, letting his hands slide under his sweatshirt and her pajama top so he could trace patterns on her lower back.
“I think about you, too,” she admitted. “Entirely too much if I’m being honest.”
“Good. Otherwise, I’m not sure what we’re doing spending all morning in my bed,” he said, raising an eyebrow at her mischievously.
“Well, I’m still not sure who you are and what have you done with the Anthony Lockwood that is terrible at relaxing.”
“Clearly, I’m trying to make up for a decade of sleep deprivation in one day.”
“And who ever would have predicted that you’d be this cuddly?”
Lockwood laughed quietly. “Only anyone who’s ever seen me with you, Luce.”
For some reason, those words made Lucy’s heart feel like it might burst, and a lump formed in her throat. It was true, she knew now. Everyone could see Lockwood’s feelings by the way he looked at her. His adoration was written all over his face, and now that she knew how to look for it, she was learning to see it, too. Every time, it became easier for her to let go of her fears, including the ghost that had once haunted her so much that she’d forced herself to leave his side.
At that, tears pricked at the corner of Lucy’s eyes, and she blinked. She pressed her face into Lockwood’s chest, hoping he hadn't noticed her reaction. She didn’t want him to misinterpret her tears as anything negative.
Just as Lucy felt like she was regaining control of her emotions, Lockwood spoke again. “Lucy, I’m so in love with you.” The words sounded like an exhale, like he had been holding them in and it was a relief to let them out into the world.
Lucy's eyes flew open, and she pulled away slightly. “What?” she said breathlessly.
Lockwood was gazing at her, the same expression on his face as the night before. But this time she recognized it for what it was: unguarded, unabashed love and devotion.
“What kind of Listener are you, Luce? Do you need me to say it again?” he teased, a deflection that didn’t quite conceal the slight nervousness in his tone.
“Kind of.” Lucy’s mind was still frantically trying to adjust to the way the world had somehow tilted with that one sentence. “You are in love… with me?” she repeated, feeling like an idiot as soon as the words escaped from her mouth.
Lockwood nodded seriously and took a deep breath, his eyes steady as he met hers. “I am. I love you, Lucy. I have for so long.”
“Lockwood—” The tears she had been holding in started spilling down her face.
“Oh, Lucy,” he said, brushing the tears away with his thumb. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
But it was already far too late to stop, and now her tears were dripping off her face and onto Lockwood’s pajama shirt. “I love you, too,” Lucy managed to choke out. “For the record.”
“Noted,” Lockwood said, his expression showing his relief. “For the record. But Lucy, then why are you crying?”
“Because you’re you, and I just—God, Lockwood. I spent so long thinking I’d never hear you say that to me.”
His face softened further. “I thought the way I felt about you was so obvious. I’ve been trying to put it into words for ages.”
As fumbling as his previous attempts had been, Lucy saw the proof as she played back the memories. Come off it, you know I’d die for you. We’d at least have the pleasure of each other’s company for a bit before my untimely end. It was a symbol of his undying devotion.
Lucy let her forehead rest against his. “I love you,” she said again. “I really do, Lockwood.”
“And I love you. So much that sometimes I feel like I’ve lost my mind a bit, Luce,” he said, giving her a lopsided grin.
“It just feels a bit weird to hear you say all of these things,” she confessed. “We don’t usually do that.”
In the past, they’ve both been more comfortable with actions than words—tea and toast, a treasured sapphire necklace, Lockwood’s arm around her shoulders, walking by each other’s side through this world and the next. Who needed words when they said so much in the silence?
“Yes,” Lockwood admitted, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Well, maybe we should start doing so, Luce. You deserve that from me. I don't ever want you to be unsure of how I feel about you, and I know—well, I know talking about my feelings isn’t a strength of mine.”
She snorted. “That’s the most understated thing you’ve ever said.”
“Lucy,” Lockwood laughed. “I’m trying here.”
“I know you are—and I do appreciate it.” She gave him another watery smile.
“I’m just saying that I’ll keep trying. For you.”
“I’ll try too,” Lucy agreed. “Even when it’s hard.”
“Even when it’s hard.” Lockwood's lips found hers to seal the promise—a kiss so full of tenderness it almost brought tears to her eyes again.