Chapter Text
Lucy couldn’t help but groan as she slowly opened her eyes and allowed them to begin adjusting to the bright light that was streaming into her room from the ghost lamps just outside her window. She knew she couldn’t have slept for long- the sky outside looked about the same as it had when she had gotten home from a case at around 1am.
With a great amount of effort, she rolled herself onto her side so she could see what time her alarm clock would be heralding. To her dismay, she turned over just in time to see the face of her alarm clock turn from 3:59 to 4:00 AM.
Lucy buried her head in her pillow, letting out a muffled scream. She was so, so tired, and yet her body refused to allow her to rest. After an indefinite amount of time spent lamenting, Lucy came to the decision that there was only one thing that might be able to help: Tea.
Slowly and silently, Lucy got out of bed and donned a pair of slippers (35 Portland Row’s floors could get eerily cold at night) and a dark gray sweatshirt (which was totally, absolutely NOT Lockwood’s that had gotten mixed in with her clothes in the laundry) and began to tiptoe down the stairs. She was met only with silence, which made her even more vigilant in her efforts to remain quiet. She knew that George had no trouble falling asleep everywhere and anywhere, and she knew from experience that he was often extremely hard to rouse. It was Lockwood she was most worried about. She paused outside his door, listening to see if she could hear anything that would indicate that Lockwood was awake, but she heard nothing. She knew how rare it was for Lockwood to be able to sleep, so she slinked away quietly, worried that any wrong move would wake him.
She was slightly surprised when she saw a light in the library was still on. Without a sound, she peaked her head in, only to be met with the sight of Lockwood, who was dressed in the sweater she had crocheted him for Christmas and a pair of sweatpants as he lay asleep on the couch. A book was lying open on his stomach, an arm folded partly on top of his chest while his other arm cushioned his head. There was something about Lockwood in this way- his lanky figure draped across the couch while he slept, his face bathed in the soft light of the fireplace- that caused Lucy’s heart to speed up. She rarely got to see him so vulnerable, so open. The sight brought a smile to Lucy’s face.
Quickly and quietly, Lucy tiptoed into the library. She slowly removed the book from his chest, making sure to mark his spot with a spare napkin, and put it on one of the end tables. Then she retrieved a blanket from Lockwood’s usual chair and draped it over him, trying not to laugh too loudly as she saw how short it was on his lanky body, barely coming to his mid-calf. He didn’t seem to mind though, seeing how he almost immediately curled into it, letting out a soft sigh.
Lucy smiled at the contentment on Lockwood’s face. She felt her cheeks heat up, which almost immediately snapped her out of her reverie. She shook her head as she made a hasty exit, promptly turning and walking down the stairs and into the kitchen.
The second she walked into the kitchen, she was immediately reprimanding herself. “He’s your boss, you twit.” She muttered as she made her way to the kettle. “What a creep, staring at him while he slept,” a voice in her head said. It sounded a lot like her mother.
Lucy shook her head again, trying to shake the idea of that out of her brain as she retrieved a mug from the rack. Within seconds she was lost in the comforting silence that came with the familiarity of making tea. When she was done, she sat down at the table and took a large gulp of the murky brown liquid, her eyes closing in bliss as her tired mind processed the flavoring. She sat there for a couple of minutes, almost finishing her tea while she tried her hardest to remain alert and attempted to avoid falling into her tea.
She was drawing an absent-minded doodle on the thinking cloth when she heard it.
At first, she couldn’t tell what she was hearing. It sounded like a shout coming from somewhere inside the house, but she couldn't make out what was being said or who was saying it. Within a second of hearing the noise, her tired mind had decided that it was probably just someone outside, likely Old Man Spencer yelling at Ms. Winters after her cat had gotten into his house again.
She heard the noise once more, but this time it made her blood run cold as she dropped her mug, which landed upright on the table but sloshed a small bit of tea onto the thinking cloth. That noise wasn’t Old Man Spencer at all- it was Lockwood. Lockwood, who was crying out her name from where she had left him in the library. There was heartbreak and fear radiating from his words. Lucy felt like she was practically being stabbed in the heart at the sound. Within seconds, Lucy’s almost-finished cup of tea and its stain on the thinking cloth were abandoned as she ran out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and into the library.
And there was Lockwood again, still asleep, but now the blanket was in disarray as Lockwood thrashed about on the couch, tears covering his face as he called out for her. Lucy rushed to his side, her heart breaking as she watched him cry. “Lockwood,” she pleaded, her voice breaking. “Lockwood, please wake up.” Lucy set a hand on his face, cupping his jaw and stroking his cheek slightly with her thumb. Lockwood startled at her touch.
Lucy pulled her hand away, not realizing that Lockwood was waking up until she felt a hand close around her wrist and guide it back to his face. “Luce,” Lockwood said painfully, his breaths coming in gasps as he struggled against himself to catch his breath. “Please.” Lockwood’s voice sounded fragile, made of glass- as if with one wrong move, he might shatter.
“Of course,” was all Lucy said as she returned her hand to his jaw and began rubbing her thumb across his cheek once again. Lockwood took a shuddering breath, but Lucy didn’t observe him becoming any more relaxed. On a whim, she climbed up on the sofa, drew Lockwood into a sitting position, and rested her forehead against his, just as she had done in Winkman’s warehouse not too long ago.
Lockwood didn’t move, and for a second Lucy contemplated whether or not this had been a bad idea and she had just crossed a major line. But then Lockwood’s hands were in her hair and his forehead was pressed against hers and, after a moment, his breathing started to calm.
Lucy didn’t know how long they were sitting there like that and, to be totally honest, she didn’t really care. She was helping Lockwood, just as he had helped her and protected her so many times before. She’d stay all night if he needed her to.
After a second, Lockwood’s breathing was slow enough that Lucy was comfortable leaving him behind to run to the kitchen and retrieve a cup of water. When she returned, Lockwood was laid back down as he tried to regulate his breathing. Lucy quickly made her way to sit on the floor next to the sofa, putting her at face level with Lockwood. “Here, drink up.” She said, pushing the cup of water into his hands. Lockwood tried to sit up and take a sip, but his hands were shaking way too much.
“Ok.” Lucy whispered under her breath as she retrieved the cup from his hands. “Here, sit up a bit.” She instructed him, bringing the cup to his lips. He drank immediately, small sips as his breathing became more and more gentle, a stark contrast to the heavy breathing from just minutes before.
He removed his mouth from the cup, nodding in appreciation before falling back onto the couch, letting his breathing slow down to something closer to his regular bpm. As Lucy set the cup of water on the floor, she noticed that Lockwood’s hands were still shaking quite violently. Without thinking, Lucy brought her hands up to hold his.
Lockwood must’ve been deep in his own head because he jumped slightly at the contact, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he just looked at Lucy questioningly. “Your hands were shaking.” Was all she said in response- she didn’t really know how to justify herself, but Lockwood didn’t press further. He just smiled appreciatively at her before he turned to stare at where their hands were joined, seemingly using that as a lifeline.
Lucy lost track of time as she sat there with him, her thumb rubbing circles across the back of Lockwood’s hand. She must’ve dozed off for a bit, because one moment she was sitting upright and the next she was slumped over against the sofa, and her left hand was still in Lockwood’s. “Hi, Luce,” came a soft voice from beside her head. She lifted her head from where it was resting on the couch and turned to see Lockwood, an apologetic smile on his face.
Lucy felt a tear fall onto her cheek. “Hiya, Lockwood.” Lockwood let go of her hand, bringing his hand up to her face. He cupped her cheek, using his thumb to wipe away her tears. “I’m sorry, Lucy.” He whispered as she closed her eyes for a second, relishing the feeling of his hand on her face. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.” She whispered back as she opened her eyes. It was then that she realized how close they were.
It wouldn’t have been the first time she had imagined what it would be like to kiss Lockwood. In fact, she did it rather regularly- it was beginning to be a problem. But this was one of the only times that it felt like a real possibility- like she could lean forward to touch her lips to his and he might just reciprocate. She even thought for a second that she saw his eyes dip down to her lips for just a second. She leaned in slightly, and-
And suddenly a car door slammed shut outside, making them both jump away from each other. Lockwood cleared his throat while Lucy stared at her hands awkwardly, waiting for the moment to subside. She sat there for a second, not knowing what to do, when Lockwood spoke. “Thank you, Lucy. Truly.” Lucy turned to look at him, noticing that he was already looking intently at her. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t-”
“It’s alright, Lockwood.” Lucy interrupted him. “Really. I know you’d do the same for me.” He smiled at her, and Lucy smiled back. “Do you want any tea?” She asked softly. “Lockwood sighed, the corners of his lips quirking up. “Yes, please.” He whispered. Lucy nodded, muttering an “Alright, then” before she stood up and made her way back to the kitchen.
When she returned a couple of minutes later, Lockwood was sitting upright on the sofa, the blanket she had draped over him an hour or so earlier on his lap as he waited for her. “Here you go.” Lucy said as she dropped down on the seat next to him. “Thank you.” He whispered with a smile, one that she returned. “Do you want me to stay with you for any longer?” She asked, taking a sip of her tea. “You really don’t have to if you don’t want to-” Lockwood started, but Lucy interrupted him again. “I know I don’t. But would it make you feel better?” Lucy asked, turning to face him fully. Lockwood hesitated before he answered with a soft “yes”.
Lucy smiled at him again, before taking another sip of her tea. “You know I’ll be on your side, right? Even if it takes all night.” She said softly. The moment that those words came out, she almost wished that he wouldn’t hear them, that she could take them back without a moment’s notice. But then there came a reply, almost too soft for her to hear. When she fully processed what he had said, she had to turn her face slightly so he couldn’t see the blush that was growing on her cheeks.
“I know, Luce. I know.”