Work Text:
send the code, he's waiting there
the sticks and stones they throw froze mid-air
everyone wants him
that was my crime
the wrong place at the right time
and I break down, then he's pulling me in
in a world of boys, he's a gentleman—“slut!”
Lucy stretched and rolled over on her stomach, reaching for Lockwood’s pillow and burying her face in it. As she breathed in the warm and spicy scent of his cologne that still lingered on the pillowcase, she decided she would rest her eyes for another few minutes before getting up for the day. Lockwood was already awake and dressed, which left her to get another hour of sleep in his bed. Maybe she’d convince Holly to make some of her wholemeal waffles for breakfast. They weren’t bad if she put Nutella on top…
Lockwood slipped through the door, shutting it softly behind him and snapping her out of her breakfast daydreams. “Luce? You awake?”
Lucy raised her head and blinked at him. “Hmm?” she said, her voice scratchy from disuse.
“Is that my pillow?” Lockwood raised an eyebrow as he sat down on the edge of the bed next to her.
“You know it is.” Lucy propped herself up on one arm to give him a quick kiss. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” Lockwood said back. He scratched his nose. “Actually, Lucy—well, I’m not sure your morning is going to be as good after you see this.”
“See what?”
He tapped the rolled up magazine in his hands against his thigh. “We’re in the papers today.”
“Shouldn’t that make you happy?”
“Ah. Usually. But this time it’s not the agency. It’s us. You and me.”
“What?” Lucy scrambled to sit up fully.
Lockwood cleared his throat. “Remember that event we went to at DEPRAC last week?”
“Yeah, of course. The one with the boring people and the horrible food?”
While Lockwood and Holly had endeavored to network with everyone in sight, Lucy had mostly lurked near the edge of the room with George, intent on rating all the canapes on their personal ten point scale from disgusting to delicious. Unfortunately, far more had fallen into the former category than the latter, leaving them both surly and disappointed.
“Well, remember how afterwards, we got a little… distracted?” Lockwood’s ears were starting to turn pink in the way Lucy usually found adorable.
She stared at him blankly before a jolt of recognition came over her. George had ducked out early to meet up with Flo on the river and Holly had headed home to her flat, leaving Lucy alone with Lockwood for the first time all day. While waiting for their night cab, Lockwood had been intent on cheering her up with the promise of bacon butties when they returned home—as well as through a more hands-on method.
“Oh, are you talking about when—”
“—we were kissing while we waited for Jake? Yes. It turns out that we weren’t quite as hidden as we thought we were, and well—”
He unfurled the gossip magazine and passed it to her, letting the large photo and garish headline speak for themselves.
“Oh no,” Lucy whispered.
While dark and grainy, the photo was still very obviously of the two of them, tucked away in an alcove. Lockwood’s arms were tangled around her waist, pulling her close, while her hands rested at the nape of his neck. With how close their faces were together, it was obvious to even the most casual observer that they had recently been kissing.
Lockwood and Co.: London’s New Romantics? the headline blared. Smaller snapshots of the two of them surrounded the main photo: standing next to each other after successful cases, receiving awards, dressed up for another party the previous Christmas.
Lucy had known there were photographers at the event—they had even posed as a group for an agency picture—but she hadn’t seen anyone with a camera outside. Now it was obvious they had been lulled into a false sense of security, on top of being distracted.
“It’s not exactly a friendly picture of us,” Lockwood said diplomatically.
“Bloody hell, I’d say not,” Lucy said, screwing up her face and covering her eyes.
“I think we’ve perhaps crossed the line of plausible deniability about the full nature of our relationship at this point,” he ventured.
Lucy gave him a reluctant nod. Speculation about their relationship had been increasingly common ever since Lockwood’s Style profile in the Times of London, but they had consistently declined to comment about it to the press. More accurately, Lockwood had declined to comment; Lucy had refused to give interviews or talk to the papers at all, instead deferring that unpleasant task to him.
After officially starting to date, they discussed the matter and agreed to keep their relationship as private as possible. While their relationship status was a bit of an open secret among London’s agency circle, they were concerned that officially confirming it to the press would take the focus off their work and invite unwanted pressure. This was exactly the situation they had been attempting to avoid.
Lucy flipped back to the front cover of the magazine and frowned. “Lockwood, you don’t even subscribe to London’s Most Talented.”
He scoffed at the idea, taking the magazine back and brandishing it like a sword. “Of course I don’t. I have standards. This is trash. The worst of its kind. No reputable magazine would have dared to print something this vapid about us. They’re infringing on our privacy with this photo. I’ve got half a mind to call them up and—”
Lucy cut off his indignant rant. “How did you even know about this then?”
Lockwood flashed her an almost guilty look. “Holly brought it in this morning. This is yesterday’s issue. She picked it up after Madeline told her about it.”
“Why did Madeline know about it?” Lucy frowned. Holly’s roommate-slash-girlfriend didn’t seem like the type to care about society gossip.
Lockwood let out a low breath, his eyes apprehensive. “She heard about it at work yesterday.”
“At work…” she said slowly, awareness slowly dawning on her in horror. “You mean at DEPRAC?”
“Afraid so, Luce.”
“ So that means—”
“Everyone we know knows,” Lockwood said quietly. “And everyone’s seen this photo.”
“Fuck,” Lucy swore loudly, sinking back into the bed and rolling over to hide her face in Lockwood’s pillow again.
“I know this is the opposite of what we wanted. I’m so, so sorry.” Lockwood scooted closer to her, his hand smoothing back her hair soothingly. “We were just in the wrong place at the right time.”
“What does the article say?” Lucy sighed as she lifted her head to look at him. “Have you read it?”
“It’s rubbish,” he said vehemently. “You shouldn’t bother.”
“That bad, huh?”
Lockwood winced. “Yes. It’s not very flattering.”
Well, now she had to read it. Lockwood tried to hold the magazine above her head, but Lucy elbowed him hard in the stomach and snatched it away with the reflexes that had saved her more than once in tricky operative situations.
A quick scan of the full text revealed that ‘not very flattering’ was an understatement. The article recapped what of their history was known from the public record (mostly correct) before pivoting to hypothesizing about the timeline of their more personal relationship (very incorrect). Besides a few subtle digs at her looks, it wasn’t that bad until—
“Lockwood—” Lucy’s eyes almost popped out of her skull when she got to the final paragraphs. “This says—”
“I know. It’s vile.” A muscle in Lockwood’s jaw clenched. “I’ll call them straight away to complain, and we’ll throw this in the fire—”
Forget the magazine, Lucy’s cheeks were already aflame. Comments about her appearance were one thing—she was an agent, not a fashion plate, and quite comfortable that way, thank you very much—but the article ended with pointed questions that bled into shaming accusations about exactly what kind of girl would end up in a romantic entanglement with her employer.
Lucy couldn’t decide if she wanted to scream or kick something first. Maybe both at the same time. Yes, that was definitely what she wanted. In the meantime, she settled for throwing the magazine across the room, letting it hit the back of the door with a loud smack before it landed on the rug in a crumpled heap.
Her breath was coming fast and heavy, and there was a tight, burning feeling in her chest, like she was on the verge of breakdown. “I hate this,” she groaned.
“I know,” Lockwood said, pulling her into his arms. “Oh, Luce, I’m so sorry. I should have chucked that straight into the bin instead of letting you read it.”
She rested her forehead on his shoulder, mumbling against his shirt. “No, I needed to know.”
Lockwood captured her face between his hands so she had to look at him, his eyes anxiously scanning her expression. “You know it’s not true, don’t you? No one whose opinion is worthwhile would ever think those kinds of things about you.”
“But people are thinking those kinds of things about me,” she said agitatedly. “Or else they wouldn’t have written it.”
“Lucy,” he tried again, sensing the spiral that had been set off in her mind. “They’re just trying to sell more magazines by printing trash because they know it’ll make people upset.”
“I know that. But it's bad enough having people we know whisper about us or make comments, and this is from strangers—”
“Who do we know that’s made comments?” Lockwood was so affronted Lucy half expected him to get his rapier and start defending her honor on the spot.
“Flo, to start with.”
Lockwood raised an eyebrow. “You know how Flo is. I’m fairly certain she was just trying to rile you up.”
“Remember what she said to me when I first met her?” Lucy scowled. “She called me a ‘slut!’”
“I believe she said slapper,” Lockwood said delicately. “And I know it’s probably not comforting right now, but as far as Flo is concerned, that might have been a sign that she liked you. Or she was just trying to take the piss out of me for my lack of a dating life before you.”
“Regardless, the implication was there about this.” She waved a hand between them, her cheeks heating. “Who knows what she thinks of me now.”
“She’s been aware that we’ve been together for months, and knowing Flo, I don’t think she thinks much about it at all.”
“Has she said anything to you?”
“Just what you’d expect—mostly gave me trouble for taking so long to get on with it.”
Lucy pressed her palms to her face again, feeling how heated her cheeks still were. “Fine, maybe Flo doesn’t care, but the idea of everyone we know reading that about me—”
“Do you want me to call London’s Most Talented?” Lockwood asked. “I can complain about this, see if they can issue some kind of retraction.”
She considered the idea for a moment before glumly shaking her head. “No. As much as I think we both might enjoy yelling at them, I reckon it won’t do any good.”
Lockwood nodded slowly. “If you’re sure. Can I do anything else for you? Bring you some tea or toast? Threaten someone?” He offered her a small smile.
“No,” she muttered, flopping back on the bed and burying her face in his pillow again. “I’m never leaving this room.”
Despite what Lucy said, she did leave Lockwood’s room eventually, dragging herself out of bed and swapping her pajamas for an old t-shirt and pair of worn leggings.
Somehow the idea possessed her to take her aggression out through cleaning. The idea was so eerily Holly-esque, she started to wonder if perhaps they’d been spending too much time together. Everyone at Portland Row seemed equally alarmed by this turn of events and rightfully gave her a wide berth as she stomped up the stairs, brandishing spray bottles and scrub brushes.
Lucy started with scrubbing the ever living daylights out of her en suite bathroom for the first time in… well, she wasn’t sure how long it had been, but that just meant it was time to get it done. Once the bathroom sparkled, she moved on to her attic, lugging their ancient, heavy vacuum up two flights of stairs and hoovering everything in sight. When that was done, she collapsed on the floor. Her rug was now so clean even Holly would eat a biscuit off of it. At least her bedroom was beyond reproach, even if her reputation was in tatters.
Words from that despicable article continued to play on repeat through Lucy’s mind. They were a brutal reminder of the double standards in how she and Lockwood were viewed just because she was a girl. It probably didn’t help that he was much posher and polished than she was with her torn leggings, chipped black nail polish, and questionable opinions on crisp flavors.
While the situation was different, it also felt eerily similar to the rumors and press Lucy had experienced in her hometown following the Mill. Everyone had felt free to make false judgements and rash assumptions about her then, too.
Beads of sweat collected and dripped down Lucy’s face. It wasn’t until she tasted salt that she realized she had started crying. She sat up, hunched over her knees, and pressed her hands to her face like some sort of gremlin. Once she was all cried out, she blew her nose loudly, looked at the vacuum and decided it was too heavy to deal with at the moment, and went downstairs.
She found George, Holly, and Lockwood eating lunch in the kitchen. The object of her ire was poking out of the bin in the corner.
“Bit of rubbish, that,” George said, gesturing towards the magazine as Lucy slumped into the chair next to him. While she grunted in response, he pushed a package of biscuits over to her. “Take one, Luce.”
Lucy nodded gratefully, taking a large bite. Lockwood reached for her hand under the table, giving it a quick squeeze.
“Let me get you some lunch, Lucy,” Holly said, jumping to her feet. “You must be hungry.” She quickly assembled Lucy’s favorite sandwich and cut it crosswise before setting it on a plate for her.
“Thanks, Hol,” Lucy said. The sympathetic gestures from her friends, as well as her first meal of the day, did help sooth her mood. She waited until she was finished with the sandwich before speaking again.
“So everyone knows that we’re dating, don’t they,” she said glumly.
Holly winced. “Yes, it sounds like this issue has been quite… popular.”
Lucy narrowed her eyes at the gossip magazine again. “I always knew people were bound to find out that we were together eventually, but I didn’t think it would be like this.”
“We just need to give it a bit of time,” Lockwood announced. “This will all blow over, and people will get tired of talking about us if we don’t give them any more to talk about.”
“In that case, how do you want to handle the UPRA fundraiser this weekend?” Holly asked. “I sent in RSVPs for the two of you, but perhaps I can rearrange my schedule or Kipps can accompany you instead of Lucy—”
“It’s supposed to be your night off,” Lucy interrupted.
Lockwood nodded. “It is, Holly. Don’t worry, I can always go on my own. I’ll just make a quick appearance, then come right home.”
Lucy chewed on her lip doubtfully. “You shouldn’t have to go alone on account of me. Won’t everyone be wondering where I am?”
“It’ll be fine, Luce. I go to plenty of events alone,” Lockwood said in that way that she knew meant that he thought the issue was settled.
Lucy scowled at the magazine again, freshly annoyed at the problems it had created for her.
Air. She needed some fresh air.
“I’m going outside,” she announced, letting her chair scrape across the floor before she stalked across the room.
The spring day was brisk and damp, and the iron steps were chilly under her, as she looked into the garden. Lucy wasn’t surprised to hear the door open behind her, but she was surprised when Holly was the one who sat next to her, primly smoothing her pinafore dress around her legs.
“Bit nippy out here, isn’t it?” she offered.
Lucy gave a nod of acknowledgement, as she continued to stare off into the distance. Last fall, they’d managed to pick apples, trim the grass, prune thorns off the rose bushes, and pull weeds before winter descended on London. Now the back garden was tidier than Lucy had ever seen it. George already had plans to plant a vegetable garden in the sunny corner, and she wanted to refresh the flowers in the window boxes. Soon, they’d be able to get started on it.
Holly sighed. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“What’s there to talk about?” Lucy muttered. She hugged her arms around her legs and let her chin rest on top of her legging-clad knee. That insidious voice was still creeping into her mind like an unwelcome house guest.
“Lucy…”
“Fine. That stupid article got into my head.”
“I imagine that’s not exactly a pleasant feeling.”
“It’s awful, feeling like the press has made my personal life into everyone’s business.”
“What did Lockwood say about it?” Holly asked quietly.
“He’s Lockwood.” Lucy sighed. “He means well, he really does, but he doesn’t really get it at the same time.”
“I know it’s hard for him to see you hurting. He loves you.” Holly said it as calmly and matter of factly as if she’d been commenting something as self-evident as rainstorms in the spring or George’s penchant for wearing ill fitting jeans.
Lucy felt a pleasant burst of warmth at the reminder of how obvious Lockwood’s feelings for her were, but it didn’t dispel the pit of dread in her stomach.
“That article didn’t exactly say anything unflattering about him though, did it? Except maybe his choice to associate with me. All that criticism, those implications—it was all on me. Because as they see it, my Talent or anything else I’ve done doesn’t matter. They think I’m just another girl who got where I did because I slept with my boss. And there’s that horrible photo—”
“I know it was a violation of your privacy, but in another context, it would have been very sweet,” Holly offered.
Lucy’s eyes flew up to Holly’s, aghast. “What? I look terrible! I have that stupid dopey expression on my face—”
“You do not,” Holly dismissed. “You look happy. And so does Lockwood. It’s clear how much you both care about each other. You know what I’ve always admired the most about you, Lucy? It’s that you never seem to care what other people think.”
“I do care though. Especially when it’s about my reputation and my Talent. The things people say, the judgment… it makes me feel like shit.” Lucy clutched her arms tighter around her knees, as she let out a dark laugh. “If my mam saw this article, she’d probably believe the worst of me.”
Holly cursed under her breath, and Lucy started in surprise. Even in the tensest situations, Holly almost never swore, leaving it to the rest of them to make up for her lack.
“You deserve so much better than that. Especially from your own family.” Holly’s hand came to rest on Lucy’s shoulder.
“It reminds me of everyone whispering about me behind my back in my hometown,” she whispered.
“They’re a bunch of useless, worthless busybodies. You shouldn’t pay anyone any mind who would judge you like that,” Holly said fiercely. Her face took on a faraway expression. “Did I ever tell you about what happened before I left Rotwell’s? The rumors?”
Lucy shook her head, her curiosity piqued.
“People said horrid things about me, about what happened with my team,” Holly continued. “And then, after I turned down a few agents who asked me out, they got angry… and all sorts of rumors started. Let’s just say my reputation wasn’t… the best.” Her mouth twisted at the corners.
“Holly,” Lucy said softly. “I had no idea—”
“It’s okay, Lucy. That’s part of the reason I wanted this job so much. I was afraid no one else would hire me,” Holly admitted. “Lockwood heard some of the things that were going around. It was unsurprising given his own penchant for gossip. But he told me he didn’t care—and said that I was an important member of Lockwood & Co.”
Lucy’s heart warmed at Lockwood’s loyalty. While it had taken her longer to appreciate Holly’s strengths, Lockwood had seen the good in her immediately.
“And you are an important member of Lockwood & Co.” Lucy blew out a long breath. “Still, it’s not fair that you went through that.”
“It’s okay now. I’m mostly past it. But during that time, I found that getting dressed for the day helped me feel a bit better about myself. No matter what anyone said, I knew that I looked nice and professional and that no one could criticize my appearance.”
Lucy couldn’t hold back a snort. “What are you saying? That I should get dressed up and go to the party anyway just to show all those horrible people how wrong they are about me?”
“Yes,” Holly said simply. “At the very least, it might make you feel better. Lucy, you shouldn’t give any of these terrible gossips the satisfaction of letting them know that this got to you.”
“Even though it so clearly did?”
“If they’re all going to be looking at you, you might as well be dressed up.” Holly nudged her in the side, her expression turning mischievous. “Plus, I know someone who never minds seeing you dressed up. Lockwood couldn’t take his eyes off of you during that DEPRAC party, and I thought he was going to—”
Lucy’s cheeks flushed despite the cool air. “Holly!”
Holly let out a tinkling laugh that quickly turned into a girlish giggle. “Oh Lucy, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have teased you. Not about that, not today.”
“It’s all right coming from you,” she admitted, shifting and impulsively letting her head rest on Holly’s shoulder. The other girl squeezed her forearm in return.
“To be clear, I’m not saying that you should do any of this for Lockwood. You should do this for you, Lucy.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Good,” Holly said approvingly. “Us girls have to stick together after all. I hope you know I’m here for whatever you need— especially if it's hair and makeup related.”
“I do know.” Lucy gave Holly a smile as she thought, not for the first time, how strange it was to be this grateful for Holly Munro.
As they arrived back at Portland Row from their case at the Boulevard Pool later that night, Lucy only had to exchange one fleeting look with Lockwood and George for all of them to start laughing.
“Well, we’ve looked better,” Lucy managed to say.
Lockwood was shaking with laughter next to her. “We have.”
They were all covered in grime and sludge, courtesy of the layer of built up muck in the empty outdoor pool. Lockwood’s hair was sticking up in every possible direction, and he’d torn a hole in the knee of his trousers. Lucy’s leggings and jacket had also gained a series of new rips and tears. The smell of smoke still adorned their clothes.
“You know, if you both went around looking like this everyday, I’d reckon that would be a good tactic to avoid being in the papers in the future,” George said, as he attempted to wipe a suspicious gray substance off his glasses with his equally filthy jumper.
Lucy’s smile faltered for a moment. In the midst of her focus on the case, the worries and anger that had consumed her all day had slipped away.
Lockwood clocked the change immediately. “Luce?” he said softly.
She blinked at him, managing to summon something approaching a smile. “I’ll try it if you will.”
Lockwood’s smile was as warm as the first burst of a sunrise spilling over the horizon. “Anything for you.”
Lucy made her way upstairs where she took a long shower, luxuriating in her newly clean bathroom. Once she was ready for bed, she wavered for a moment before going down to Lockwood’s room as usual. He looked up from where he was working on paperwork in bed and smiled at her.
“Were you waiting up for me?” she asked.
“Yes, wasn’t sure if you’d want some space tonight.”
“Thought about it,” she admitted, rubbing her calf with the bottom of her fuzzy sock clad foot. “But I changed my mind.”
“I’m glad you did. I needed someone to save me staying up for another hour working on taxes.” He gave her a wry smile before setting the stack of papers on his bedside table and going over to his desk. “Plus, I have something for you.”
The gift was a bundle of newly sharpened colored pencils tied with a sky blue ribbon. The colors—tangerine, aquamarine, flamingo pink, yellow sunrise—were almost neon in their brightness.
“Is this… a bouquet of colored pencils?” Lucy said slowly.
Lockwood shrugged, the gesture a little bashful. “Thought you might like art supplies better than flowers.”
“I do.” Lucy threw her arms around him, struck once again by how well he knew her. Even when Lockwood didn’t know what to say or how to fix something, that wouldn’t stop him from trying to cheer her up. “I always knew you were a gentleman.”
“I try my best,” he said, brushing his lips across the crown of her head. “Sorry again about the article and everything else today. I hope you know that no idiotic magazine could ever change the way I feel about you. So if you want to lie low for a while, we can do that. Whatever you need.”
“Thank you,” Lucy said fervently. She bit her lip, making a decision as she thought about what Holly had told her. This was a chance she needed to take. “But I’ve decided that I don’t want to hide. We should stick to our plans and go to the DEPRAC fundraiser together anyway.”
Lockwood let his hands rest on her shoulders, searching her face. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah. I’m sure.”
“You can change your mind at any time,” Lockwood said seriously. “Although, knowing you, you probably won’t, now that you’ve decided on this.” The corner of his mouth tilted up. “I’ll just have to challenge anyone to a duel who dares to say anything bad about you.”
“That might blow up in your pretty face.” She tapped on the end of his long nose.
“I’ll do it anyway.” The glint in his eyes turned mischievous. “And what’s this about you thinking that I’m pretty?”
Lucy sighed. “That would be what you’d get out of that.”
“C’mon, Luce, do you blame me?”
“Oh, come here,” she said, pushing up to her tiptoes and kissing him just to shut him up.
She could feel Lockwood still smiling as he returned the kiss. His lips never left hers as he walked them backwards, his hands trailing up from her hips to smooth across her back, before they tumbled into bed, his body falling flush against hers. They curled up together, and Lucy rested her head in the crook of Lockwood’s shoulder.
“You always worry about me,” she said. “About what I need. What about you and what you need? You aren’t worried I’ll draw bad attention to the agency? You’re sure you want me there?”
“Of course I want you with me,” Lockwood said firmly. He nudged at her chin until she met his eyes. “Lucy, I’m always proud when you’re next to me.”
“So you really don’t care?” she whispered. “About the things people say?”
“I do care,” he said. “I care that you’re the one who unfortunately has to pay the price for our relationship being in the public eye. You shouldn’t have to deal with this kind of scrutiny. For your sake, I wish I could make it stop. But nothing about us is a mistake. What we have—it’s good. I’m certain of that.”
The words swept over Lucy like a fresh wave of ocean water, washing her clean. She’d never felt quite so love struck.
“Well, I hope you know that you’re worth all the stupid things people say,” Lucy said, capturing Lockwood’s face in her hands. His dark eyes glistened in the glimmer of moonlight pouring in through the gap in the curtains.
“Almost sounds like you’re in love with me, Luce.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You’re going to,” he whispered against her skin, as his lips trailed down her jaw.
“Hmm,” she allowed. “I suppose you’re right about that.”
Lockwood’s fingers slid back and threaded through her hair as he took his time kissing her thoroughly. The rush was intoxicating and sweet, going straight to her head. Lucy was floating in a luxurious haze, drunk on his touch as they lost themselves in each other.
“Lucy,” Lockwood murmured, his mouth just below her ear, sounding lovesick and half drunk himself, as he slotted their bodies together for sleep. “What if all I need is you?”
She drew closer to him, already half asleep. “You have me,” she said. “You’ve always had me.”