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George scheduled a night cab because the only universal constants are life, death, and Lockwood & Co. having a case. Alan the cab driver arrived right on time, which delighted Lucy—she’d been meaning to ask about his daughter, and her play.
“You have the address?” Lockwood asked, and Alan the cab driver nodded. It’s a house somewhere in Clapham that sounded very uninteresting to Lucy and she didn’t care to remember the street. Suddenly Lockwood swore, elegantly. “I left my duffle in the hall.”
“Good Lord, mate,” George said from the front seat. “You’re one of the saviors of the world. No excuses for forgetting like this.”
Lockwood rolled his eyes. “Back in a flash,” he said with a dashing grin. He leaned in, gave Lucy a quick kiss on the mouth, and then leaned away and slipped out the door all in one fluid motion, leaving Lucy breathless in the backseat.
The cab was quiet, for a moment. “Luce,” said George. “Did he-”
“Yes,” said Lucy, slowly reaching to touch her lips. “I think so.”
“Has he… before?” George asked, looking wildly uncomfortable.
Lucy shook her head. George whistled quietly.
“Hell of a time to do it,” said Alan the cab driver. Lucy jumped; she had forgotten he was there.
Lucy was very still, in the backseat, her mouth half-open, her mouth just-kissed. She watched 35 Portland Row through the window of the cab and looked for Lockwood’s shadow in the window. Either he was somewhere else or still, because she couldn’t spot him.
“Lucy,” said George. She looked at him. “You okay?”
Lucy nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “I- I was just surprised.”
“Lockwood’s stupid,” George said. “We all know that.”
Lucy laughed a little. “Fair.”
George’s eyes caught on something behind her and Lucy turned again to see Lockwood leaving the house, duffel in hand. “Don’t say a word,” Lucy warned George. Alan the cab driver mimed zipping his lips.
Lockwood very quietly sat down and pulled the door closed behind him. He did not make eye contact with anyone. “We’re good, Alan,” he said, and the car started moving.
George met her gaze and made a concerned expression. Then he started pulling the partition closed.
“George,” said Lucy, but he did not stop pulling the partition closed. “George, don’t you dare-” and Lockwood and Lucy were alone.
Lockwood only half-reacted to the divider closing. He still wasn’t looking at Lucy, just wringing his hands in his lap and staring out the window. “Sorry,” said Lucy. “You know George.”
Lockwood shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said, still not looking at her. “I- would you believe me if I said it was an accident?”
An accident? Lucy blinked. “What d’you- did you not want to?”
“No!” Lockwood said quickly, finally turning. He was flushed. “I- I didn’t mean to- I wanted to, I just- I wasn’t planning on doing it- then.”
Lucy considered this. “Why did you, then?” she asked.
Lockwood flushed darker under her gaze. “I- I don’t know. It just felt right, I guess?”
They hadn’t really talked about it. Of course, Lockwood gave Lucy the necklace his father gave to his mother, and they both knew what that meant. Undying devotion isn’t really something you do halfway. Neither is saving the world.
But they hadn’t had a conversation about it. It was new. They were taking it slow. Lucy liked him and Lockwood liked her but they both were okay taking their time to figure out what it all meant.
Lockwood misinterpreted her silence for judgment. “It’s stupid, I know,” he said, looking away again.
“No,” said Lucy quickly. “Sorry. I’m just thinking.”
Lockwood asked, hesitantly, “What are you thinking about?”
Lucy said, “Kissing you again.”
For a moment Lockwood stared at her, and then he lit up in a brilliant smile, one that made Lucy smile just to look at, and his cheeks blushed scarlet. “Luce,” he said, restraining himself, “you aren’t just saying that to me, right?”
Lucy grinned. “I forgive you for surprising me last time if you forgive me for a bad performance,” she said. “I don’t do well on the spot.”
Lockwood kissed her again. It was better this time. The angle wasn’t as harsh. It started chaste but Lockwood’s mouth opened with a sigh and Lucy kissed him, her nose against his cheek, his canines sharp against her tongue. His arm snaked around her waist and pulled her closer, twisting her torso so she could be nearer. Lucy reached a hand to cup his jaw. Lockwood was beautiful like this, at night and alive.
Lucy’s hand moved around to hold the back of his neck, threading her fingers in his hair. He made a sound into her mouth when she scraped her nails against his scalp. Curious, she did it again to the same result. Interesting.
She kissed him and kissed him. The seatbelt dug into her hip and the angle was awkward on her neck but Lucy didn’t care. Lockwood’s hands moved constantly, like he couldn’t decide where to keep them, her shoulders, her arms, her waist. Lucy made a soft noise as he got particularly brave and brushed his fingers against her skin at the hem of her shirt.
And then George smacked the divider once and they both jumped. “Shit,” said Lockwood helplessly, hair mussed and mouth red. Lucy laughed at him even though she was sure she looked just as ridiculous. After a beat George pulled the partition open again and looked at them with big eyes.
“Better?” he asked. He gave Lucy a questioning look that Lockwood couldn’t see.
“Just fine,” said Lockwood with a smile. He straightened his tie. George craned his neck to look at him and then turned to Lucy with a shit-eating grin. Fuck.
“I’m sure you are,” George said, immeasurably pleased. “I’m sure you are.”
“We’ll be there in five,” Alan the cab driver informed them.
Lucy looked at Lockwood, and Lockwood looked at Lucy, and they both blushed and looked away.
The case went well. By one in the morning Lockwood and Lucy were waiting out on the curb for their cab. London was still haunted but it didn’t feel particularly threatening, not with Lockwood by her side and her rapier on her hip.
Lockwood reached in his coat pocket and pulled out a fag. He placed it delicately with his long fingers between his lips. Lucy, in a sudden moment of bravery, stepped in close and pulled his lighter from his pants pocket, her wrist brushing against his hip bone. Lockwood froze, the cigarette trembling in his mouth.
Lucy leaned in close and sparked the lighter. She cupped her hand around the flame to make sure the October wind wouldn’t snuff it out. Lockwood inhaled.
After he’d had a drag Lucy plucked the fag from his mouth and took one herself. She blew the smoke directly into his face, and then coughed vigorously. He rolled his eyes. She took another drag, and coughed some more. “Gross,” she declared finally.
“Good,” said Lockwood. He took the cigarette back from her hands, and she pretended to not be thrilled to touch him.
“It doesn’t even get you high?” she asked.
“No,” said Lockwood. He smiled. She huffed. “I know. It’s stupid.”
“A little bit,” Lucy said. “A little stupid.”
Lockwood paused. “I’d like to go back to something you said,” he said. “Have you been high?”
Lucy shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. “Once.”
“When!”
“The Black Winter. While I was freelancing.”
Lockwood winced. “Ah,” he said. “I see.”
“With Kat Godwin,” said Lucy.
“Kat Godwin?” asked Lockwood, looking utterly baffled.
Lucy shrugged. “We snogged,” she said.
“You snogged?” asked Lockwood, completely bewildered.
Lucy laughed. “As if you’re the only one who gets to make bad decisions,” she teased. “At least I didn’t start smoking nicotine.”
“But apparently you started smoking something else!” accused Lockwood jovially, and Lucy laughed. “Isn’t that worse, Luce? I think that’s worse!”
“It is not,” she argued, but they were both already laughing.
George and Flo and Kipps and Holly were still inside but Lucy and Lockwood kept laughing, and it was one o’clock in the morning, and Alan the cab driver was still ten minutes out. Lockwood stubbed his smoke out on the brick wall beside them and Lucy stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.
It was better this time, not being in a car. Lucy’s neck wasn’t craned and she had more space to move. Lockwood responded faster too, immediately kissing back, his hands cupping her face. He kissed her, and he kissed her, and she opened his mouth and he licked inside. His lips were chapped. His rapier hand was calloused.
Lucy stepped on his toes; Lockwood stepped back in surprise. Lucy laughed a little and he grinned at her, open and happy like she’s only seen him a few times before, and stepped back in again and leaned down and kissed her. Lucy ran her fingers through the short hair at the back of his neck and felt him shiver.
Lockwood got bold. He kissed her jaw, then her neck, and Lucy made a soft sound of surprise. His mouth was warm against the chill. Lucy tilted her head to allow him better access. Her hands found his hair proper, and she played with the white streaks in his fringe.
His teeth grazed her neck; Lucy shuddered. He pulled back and looked at her. “Alright?” he asked.
“Alright,” Lucy said. “Alright, Lockwood,” and she kissed him again.
Time meant nothing. The world was Lucy and Lockwood and the lingering cigarette smell. She focused on learning him, learning his mouth, his body. She couldn’t decide where to put her hands. His hips, his shoulders, his hands. She couldn’t get over the joy of being allowed to touch.
Lucy’s hands wandered. Lockwood’s dress shirt was already untucked from his slacks so she tentatively slid her fingers up under his shirt, feeling his skin. Lockwood’s breath hitched. She kept going, running the pads of her fingers up his spine. It pulled him in closer, pressing his torso against hers. His skin was warm. His breath was hot. It still billowed in the night air from the cold rather than a fag when he pulled back to breathe.
She looked up at him, their noses practically touching, her arms up his shirt. “Hi,” Lucy said.
“Hi yourself,” said Lockwood. “Comfortable?”
“Mmm,” said Lucy agreeably. “Very productive smoke break.”
“Certainly,” said Lockwood fondly. He kissed her again, chaste, slow and sweet. Just a press of lips. “Lucy.”
“Yes?”
“Oh, nothing. Just saying your name.”
“Sop.”
“Oi!”
“Sop!”
Lockwood laughed, and Lucy laughed, and she could smell the tea they had before vanquishing a Visitor on his breath, and she was pretty sure she loved him. Of course, one could never tell, not in a world with the Problem and Visitors and the Other Side. She was pretty certain, though, and that was about as good as it got.
“Lockwood,” said Lucy.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just saying it.”
“Lucy.”
“Lockwood.”
They giggled like schoolchildren.
“Lucy,” he said again, but took a breath after like he meant to go on. “Luce, I-”
Headlights came up the street, a familiar cab pulling into view. “Damn Alan,” whispered Lucy, turning her face back to his. Their noses brushed. “Should’ve fired him ages ago.”
“It’s not important,” Lockwood said. “I’ll tell you later.”
“Okay,” Lucy said. She got on her tip-toes and kissed him again, because she could. “Want to get the rest of them?”
“Can you?” Lockwood pleaded like a child, and Lucy laughed. “I’m ever so comfortable here.”
“Oh, very well then,” Lucy acquiesced, because she felt in a giving mood. But when she went to extract herself from their strange embrace on the side of a London road Lockwood stepped forward with her, keeping himself close. “Lockwood,” she said, smiling. “I’m going to get the team.”
“But don’t leave,” Lockwood said rather pathetically. He was grinning so Lucy knew he was only half-serious but he did look very striking, in the light of the ghost-lamps, mouth freshly kissed. “Surely they’ll be out in a moment anyway.”
Alan the cab driver stopped in front of the building. “Come on,” said Lucy. “People will talk.”
“Oh, alright,” he conceded, and stepped back and let Lucy back away, but her cheeks were flushed and so were his. “But. Perhaps we can talk at home?”
“Okay,” said Lucy. “Yeah, alright.”
As if he couldn’t help it, Lockwood leaned in quick as anything and kissed her cheek. “Okay, don’t leave Alan waiting,” he said, as if she was the one delaying them. Lucy rolled her eyes, fond. “Go get George et. al.”
“I don’t know what et. al means,” Lucy sang, and she swanned back into the building, leaving him laughing behind her outside. As soon as she was inside the doors and Lockwood could no longer see her she stopped for a moment and squeezed her eyes shut and grinned as wide as she could stand it. She even allowed herself a wiggle of joy, flapping her hands and bouncing a little in place.
Then she went to find the rest of Lockwood & Co., who were presumably still handling paperwork, and she smiled all the way.