Chapter Text
So, Brown Eyes, I’ll hold you near
Cause you’re the only song I want to hear
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
Where soul meets body
The rain pelted down hard on the roof of 35 Portland Row. Lucy sat in the middle of her bed in the attic, hugging her knees tightly to her chest. She had bolted awake a few minutes before, having barely just closed her eyes.
Despite her profession and her past, until recently she hadn’t had this much trouble sleeping. And the issue wasn’t in falling asleep, anyway, so much as what happened once she fell asleep.
It didn’t matter if they had just come back from a job or if it had been a quiet night. It didn’t matter if she skipped her last cup of tea in the afternoon. It didn’t matter if she read, did ten jumping jacks, even tried deep breathing.
Night after night, the nightmares came. And once they did, Lucy wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. She barely remembered them when she woke up, only the paralyzing fear that stuck with her once she opened her eyes.
She always woke up feeling clammy and cold, shaking and sometimes sobbing. She tried to get a hold of herself, to see if maybe she could just lie back down and stay in her own bed tonight.
Like she did every night now, Lucy sat fighting her internal battle over whether or not she actually needed to sleep tonight. If she did, then there was only one thing to do.
Brushing away tears that she couldn’t remember shedding, she pushed herself off of her bed and wrapped a cardigan around her bare shoulders. She had done this enough times that she knew which steps creaked if you stepped on them a certain way. Carefully avoiding those noisy spots so as not to wake George, Lucy padded on her bare feet to Lockwood’s door.
The last thing she needed was George waking up to find her sneaking into Lockwood’s room. No matter how innocent her intentions were, he would read into it. And he might not have been totally wrong, either.
Taking a steadying breath, she quietly pushed the door open and slipped inside. A naturally light sleeper, or at least that’s what he had told her, Lockwood raised his head briefly.
“Luce?” His voice was low and rough with sleep, and Lucy pretended that the sound didn’t send heat into her belly.
“Go back to sleep,” she whispered as she always did, removing her cardigan. And he would, at a speed that always made her envious. But only once he was sure that she was okay.
He grunted in acknowledgement and pulled back the covers for her. Lightning struck outside, briefly illuminating Lockwood in his bed, dark hair in disarray on his pillow, pale, bare chest and arms peeking out from his sheets.
She had discovered that he slept only in his pajama bottoms, no matter the season. She also found out that he ran hot, so Lucy quickly got over her shyness at trying to cover up her sleep tank and shorts with something more modest.
Lucy had been so terrified the first night that the nightmares had come that she hadn’t thought twice about accepting Lockwood’s offered embrace. Even though it had meant pressing herself against his naked chest.
That night, she hadn’t been present enough to appreciate his skin against hers. But some nights, she felt more like herself once she was with him. On those nights, she was almost painfully aware of every inch of them that touched, sending sparks that she felt in her bones.
It was the thunder that made Lucy jump, leaping into the bed as if chased. She scolded herself internally over the fact that an agent like herself, a listener at that, who dealt with far more frightening noises than thunder could spook so easily.
“Come here,” Lockwood murmured, his arms open and waiting for her, as always.
Lucy tried to keep her breathing even as she laid down next to him. She told herself it was leftover panic from her nightmare and not the proximity of a half-naked Lockwood.
His arms, thin but strong, came around her as soon as she hit the sheets, resolutely pulling her towards his chest. She exhaled as she felt her tense muscles relaxing into the solid warmth of his body.
Even just his presence had a calming effect on her. But add his touch into the mix?
Neither of them had much physical contact in their daily lives, at least not with the living. Touch was rare and fleeting. Maybe a quick hug after a job that had almost gone south, but it was always over quickly, a moment of “I’m glad you didn’t die” before tea and biscuits.
Lucy couldn’t deny that she had begun to crave the feeling of being utterly surrounded by Lockwood. Or Anthony, as she sometimes called him in her mind. Or, even worse, her Anthony.
In their line of work, claustrophobia wasn’t really an option. Lucy had been in and out of all manner of tight spaces before and had learned to deal with it. She had thought that maybe being so encompassed by Lockwood’s arms would bring a feeling of unease, but it was quite the opposite.
In his arms she felt safer than she ever had, her mind calmer than she knew it could be. For those brief moments, the past didn’t threaten to break her and the future didn’t seem as bleak.
Lucy melted into him, refusing to consider why it was so easy, so natural for her to do so.
Comfort. Lockwood had become her comfort.
Part of her, deep down, knew that there was far more to it than that. But she wasn’t ready to admit that fully yet, either to herself or to Lockwood. Communication wasn’t exactly their strong point.
Denial - now that was something she was familiar with and could cling to, just as tightly as she was clinging to the boy beside her.
She knew that Lockwood cared for her deeply, just like they both cared for George. The three of them were far more than coworkers at this point. Far more than best friends, even. They had become a family, the closest people that any of them had had in a long time. People that were unequivocally on her side, always. As she was on theirs.
But Lucy couldn’t help wondering, more and more often lately, if what she had with Lockwood went beyond friendship and familial love.
Love. A foreign concept, she thought. After Norrie, she had vowed never to get close to anyone, even as a friend. To never leave a piece of her heart with another person so she wouldn’t have to feel the crushing pain of loss again.
Of course, she suspected that Lockwood now held far more than just a piece of her heart. No, he more than likely held all of it at this point. At least what was left of it. That thought should have scared her more than it did.
Lucy exhaled forcefully, trying to dispel the remaining feelings of unease that had followed her downstairs as well as the dangerous train of her thoughts.
“Bad ones tonight?” he asked softly, lips grazing her forehead as he spoke.
Lucy tried to suppress her shiver at the softness of his lips on her skin. She shook her head and burrowed closer to him, her nose finding the spot between his neck and shoulder where she just fit.
“Maybe the storm woke me this time. You know I never remember the dreams.”
He shrugged wordlessly. She didn’t know if he believed that she had no recollection of the nightmares. Maybe he thought that she simply didn’t want to tell him. But while she knew they were terrifying, that was all she remembered.
Lucy pressed her face into Lockwood’s chest and prayed that he wouldn’t notice that her cheeks were wet. She knew he always did, of course. Lockwood noticed everything, especially about Lucy.
She sighed contentedly, allowing herself to indulge in the crisp scent of salt and soap and something else that was just Lockwood.
“It’s alright. Sleep now,” he whispered, his hand coming up to stroke through her hair soothingly.
She wasn’t sure if he even realized he was doing it. They had fallen into a routine with these nights, when such openly affectionate touch was suddenly permissible.
Affectionate was the word Lucy was deciding to go with for now. If she thought about it too hard, she would question why Lockwood allowed her of all people to disturb his sleep, night after night.
She would be forced to acknowledge the fact that Lockwood, in the dead of night, in his room, in his bed, had begun to feel like he was hers.
Lucy didn’t know if she would ever feel worthy of him, but she would take what she could get. Though these nights were brought on by fright, she treasured them as they allowed her to be closer to him than she had previously dated.
“Goodnight, Lockwood,” she whispered against the warm skin of his chest.
She tried not to focus on how she could just taste the salt of him as her lips brushed over him with her words. His arms tightened around her in response.
With a few deep breaths he was out, Lucy following him shortly after. She was beginning to think that she would follow him anywhere.
There were nights when Lucy came to him shaking with sobs, nights that he held her and whispered reassurances until she calmed down. But Lockwood always knew when the nightmares had done their worst.
The nights when she came to him and said nothing, resolutely staring at the ceiling as he held her. Those were the nights that scared him the most. When he wasn’t sure if she would ever come back to herself. To him.
It was one such night that he found himself lying awake with her, unable to sleep until he knew that she would be okay.
“Lucy,” he whispered, breaking the silence that had settled around them like a ghost fog. At her continued silence he tried again.
“Lucy.”
She turned her blank gaze to him for just a moment before tilting her face back up towards the water stained ceiling.
Talk to me. What’s wrong, my love? My Lucy.
The words boiled inside of him, bubbling up and ready to pour out. But now wasn’t the time, not when he wasn’t sure that she would really hear him. He clenched his fists, willing the unbidden words back down.
These nights gave him plenty of time to think, to watch her in his arms until she finally slept. Even if it took hours, he refused to rest until she did.
In the daylight, Lucy would cast guilt-ridden looks at him every time he yawned. She had no reason to feel guilty, but telling her that would involve actually talking about what had changed between them.
Didn’t she know that he wanted her there? How nothing had ever felt more right in his sorry excuse for a life than holding her?
From the first night he had found her trembling outside his door, too frightened to knock, he never protested when she crept into his room, into his bed.
How could he, when he was powerless against her, against the changes she wrought within his very being? When he knew that her arrival in his room meant that he would get to hold her once again?
Lockwood even allowed himself to feel that in those moments she was his as much as he already was hers.
He watched her closely in the thin stream of moonlight from the window. Her brows, her fluttering lashes over her beautiful, deep brown eyes. Eyes that would catch on him and light up like he was her world.
Lucy mesmerized him. Captivated him. Lockwood traced his gaze down her pert nose and cheekbones to her lips. Her perfect lips. He would have given anything to know what they tasted like.
“Try to sleep, Lucy.”
He brushed his callous-roughened fingers over her forehead, watching as her eyes drifted shut at his touch. Her rapid breathing slowly calmed and he felt the moment she stopped resisting the pull of sleep, her body pressing more heavily into his.
Once he knew she was asleep, he chanced a kiss to her temple, brushing his lips reverently over the soft skin. He repeated the motion, squeezing his eyes shut at the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him.
He hated that she was hurting, hated that he couldn’t take the hurt away. Her pain had seeped under his skin until he didn’t know where she ended and he began. It was the same with her joy, but there had been far too little of that lately.
She had seamlessly fit herself into his life, both personal and professional. And now Lucy had fit herself into his nights, too. He always slept lightly now until she arrived, only truly finding rest once she was in his arms.
She made him feel at peace. Lockwood wondered if it was the same for her and if that was why she kept coming back.
It should have been harder for him to accept the strange intimacy of sleeping together, and only literally sleeping together. Lockwood was far from a virgin, but this felt more significant than any of his past experiences.
This was not a quick, anonymous tumble to feel something other than the blinding numbness. Those were only about the physicality, the release. This, whatever this was between them, was so different than anything Lockwood had felt before.
They hadn’t done anything more than hold each other and yet his past faceless partners already paled in comparison. He didn’t know if he would survive actually being with her.
Lockwood was so used to keeping everyone at arm’s length. No one had ever stayed around long enough to know him like this. And Lucy did know him. She knew the part of himself that he showed to the world, of course. The brilliant agent with the shadowy past. George saw some of what he kept hidden from the outside, but Lucy…
His Lucy (because in his mind, she was already his) somehow saw straight through his carefully constructed exterior. She saw him, with all of his fears and flaws and insecurities. All of his darkness, the shadows that at time overwhelmed him.
And yet, he was the one she came to. He was the one she chose to hold her through the pain and terror that each night brought on so cruelly for her.
She didn’t talk about the nightmares other than to say that she didn’t remember. He believed her, of course he did, but it still concerned him. Lucy was incredibly sharp and tuned into her surroundings, both those of this world and the next. Lockwood knew that the dreams had to be truly horrifying for her to react as she did.
Maybe part of him liked to feel needed, liked the fact that she allowed him to take care of her. But as more days stretched on without them saying a word about her nightly visits, Lockwood began to wonder if he was starting to need her too.
Lucy shifted against him and he bit back a groan. That was another problem with how comfortable she had become in his bed. Lockwood cherished every touch, every time he got to hold her. But his body wanted more than just to cherish her.
He wanted no less than to worship her, to feel every inch of her skin that she hid underneath her pajamas. But that wasn’t why she was coming to him, and he felt like a lecherous creep for his thoughts.
Then there were the times when she made him think that maybe he wasn’t the only one who wanted more. When his hands brushing the bare skin of her waist made her shiver. When she whispered his name into his neck as she pressed closer to him.
Like he had countless times before, Lockwood imagined what it would be like to pull her forward just a little more. To lift one of her legs over his hip and feel the heat of her pressed against his straining arousal.
The fact that he knew exactly how it felt to hold her to him so closely didn’t do anything to help matters. How every curve of her body seemed perfectly made to fit with his.
She had to have noticed by now how he was affected by her proximity. With her wrapped so tightly around him, there really was no way for him to hide it from her. But other than a sharp intake of breath here and there, she never gave any indication of it. And they always managed to drift off to sleep, no matter how charged the air felt around them.
Around Lucy, he was a live wire. He had considered himself all but dead inside for so long. But when she was near he couldn’t deny the spark of life she stirred in him. Among other things.
Lockwood was getting to the point where holding everything he felt for Lucy inside was starting to feel impossible. He was terrified of ruining their friendship, or whatever it was that they had built between them. From the moment he had seen her, desperate for a job, he had known she was special. But he had no idea at the time of just how special she would come to be for him.
Lucy truly had been the missing piece of Lockwood & Co., but now Lockwood himself was realizing that she was what had been missing from his life.
He was almost asleep, breathing in the floral scent of her shampoo when he heard a breathy whisper.
“Lockwood.”
It was uttered so softly that if her face hadn’t been so close to his he might have dismissed it as the wind. But then she did it again, and he was instantly wide awake.
“Lockwood.” This time she sounded even more breathless and his pajama pants tightened painfully.
Casting his eyes downwards, he saw that she was in fact still sleeping, eyes closed and breathing evenly. She was whispering his name in her sleep? This was new. And with how calm she was, he knew it wasn’t a nightmare.
What are you dreaming about, Lucy? Do you dream about me? I dream about you, every single night.
He had shivers down his spine at the thought of his name in her mouth, of her whispering against his skin just like that, over and over. Or better yet, moaning.
He was sure that the sounds she would make while he touched her would be nothing short of wonderful. Now he was just torturing himself, but he couldn’t stop.
An even more traitorous part of his brain suddenly craved the sound of his given name falling from her lips in pleasure. Anthony. He had his reasons for preferring to be called by his surname, but it was different with Lucy. Everything was different with Lucy.
Lockwood inched his hips backwards just enough to give himself some relief. He couldn’t stay pressed up against her like this, especially if she were to say his name again. He did need to at least get some sleep tonight and would content himself with the comfort of her presence, even if it drove him mad.
With desire, with need, with love.
Now it was his turn to stare at the ceiling, willing his not-so-little problem to go away. He wondered if how turned on he was would carry over into his dreams. It wouldn’t be the first time. Lucy consumed his waking thoughts, so why should his dreams have been any different? He just hoped he wouldn’t embarrass himself anymore than he already had.
Soon enough, though, Lockwood was drawn back into her warmth, holding her close once again. He reveled in the soft curves of her, hands daring to clasp her waist tightly, before his suddenly heavy eyes had him joining her in sleep.