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lockwoodsbane · 1 month

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Additions and Donuts

Lockwood proves just how well he knows you, but he still can't piece it together. You're both oblivious, but Lucy is quick to pick it all up.

"This is the kitchen," you heard behind you, following the sound of the kitchen door opening. Lockwood glanced at you at the sink as you turned with a frown, the corners of his lips tugging upwards at the sight of the yellow rubber gloves on your hands.

"Don't mind Y/n looking sullen over there, she's like this when she's hungry."

"Shut up, Lockwood." You beamed at the pretty girl with him pointedly, taking in her ruffled red hair and the heavy belongings she held. She fumbled with the strap of her bag as she shot back a nervous smile, looking at Lockwood as though she expected an introduction. He seemed to notice, because that was exactly what he did.

"Y/n, this is Lucy, our newest addition. Lucy, Y/n." He turned his back to you, yet remained purposefully loud. "She's a handful, so I'd steer clear of her if I was you."

"I assure you I'm not, Lucy." You said, though Lucy could see it was directed to the owner of the house rather than her. She saw your eyes flicker to her many bags and a scowl cross over your face.

"You could have at least took her bags for her, Lockwood!" You exclaimed, and her eyes widened shyly. He furrowed his brows like he hadn't even thought of this.

"Oh yes, would you like me to— erm—"

Lucy stared at him. "It's okay," she spoke, but you heard the strain in her voice.

"Right." Lockwood looked to you again. "You'll be sharing rooms of course, like I said. Y/n, if you'd show her upstairs?"

"Gladly." You took off the gloves, left them beside the sink and made for the door, but Lockwood blocked it, arms crossed and avoiding eye contact as though he expected you to ask him to move. When you didn't, he moved of his own accord with a huff, and you headed into the hallway closely followed by Lucy. She shut the door gracefully.

"Here, I'll grab one of those for you," you offered, nodding to her bags. She smiled gratefully and swung one off her shoulder and into your hands. Comfortable with other girls, you noted. You could tell immediately that you were going to get along well.

"I'm sorry for this, having to show me around. I know you were busy." She fidgeted with her hands as she spoke, and for a moment you were reminded of your own first day in the house, a chaotic one. You stopped mid-step and dismissed it with a wave of your hand.

"Don't apologise, I hate dish duty." You smiled and began ascending the stairs again. "I'm just glad I've finally got another girl with me in the house."

"Are they that bad?" asked Lucy, her lips tugging upwards.

You shrugged. "I mean, George can be a bit eager at times, especially when he's passionate about something, though that comes in use. He's quite fussy about keeping everything orderly, but he really is a nice guy overall."

She nodded in understanding. "Yeah, he was in the interview earlier."

"I'm so glad I don't have to sit in those interviews," you huffed. "You're the first person today who hasn't left in a fright, be that from George or from that skull of his."

She looked unfazed, as though she expected such.

"And Lockwood?"

You sighed as you reached your room upstairs, hand on the door. "Don't even get me started. Unbearable, to say the least, but he can talk for the whole of England, I'll give him that."

Lucy frowned as you pushed open the door. "Is that a good thing or bad?"

She saw your lips widen. "Good for business, bad for arguments. Well, this is our room."

She looked away from you finally and around the room. Not too big, she had to admit, but the fairy lights and little polaroids you had stuck beside your bed were more than enough to make it homely.

"I'll shuffle a few things around slightly to make you a bit more room. Lockwood's probably told you already, rent gets deducted from wages, so you're fine to decorate as much as you like. I think."

Lucy nodded, smiling gently at the thought as you set down her bag. "Thank you."

You grinned back. "'More than welcome. I'm going to head downstairs before George riots because I haven't finished with the dishes. If you need anything, let me know, yeah?"

She nodded, and you took it as your cue to leave, shutting the door behind you. As you headed down the stairs, passing by the private locked door, you saw Lockwood heading up the set of stairs below you, near his own room. He glanced up, the casual expression morphing into a smirk at the sight of you.

"Haven't scared her off, have you?" He grinned toothily at your face.

"If your face didn't scare her off, believe me, mine won't."

He pouted, but stepped closer, voice falling slightly as he leaned on the frame of the staircase. "She's a good listener, from what we saw in the interview. I think this is finally our breakthrough."

"Really?" You stepped onto the landing beside him. "That good?"

He nodded. "I'm sure of it."

"In that case, you had best find us a case, Lockwood. I'm getting tired of staying here all day, I need some sort of action." You sighed, heading down the stairs again to the kitchen again. To your surprise, he followed, falling into step beside you. What on Earth was he up to now?

"Just think of the possibilities! George as our researcher, Lucy as our listener, me as the beautiful face of this company!"

He looked to you with a lopsided smirk as though waiting for you to point out the fact that he hadn't mentioned you. You sighed, dreading what was to come.

"I'm not even going to ask."

"No, go on, ask."

"Fine. What about me?"

His smile spread from ear to ear. "The finest dish scrubber in London."

He barely had time to slam and lock shut the library door as you chased him.

A few hours later, Lucy found herself sitting at the kitchen table with George, who was deepy immersed in a book. He barely spared her a glance, and instead, she sat assessing the notes carved into the table before her.

The most recent one, it seemed, was a rather exaggerated drawing of Lockwood, his head at least three times bigger than the rest of him. She couldn't help but smile a little.

A crash upstairs, followed by multiple yells knocked her out of her thoughts. George, on the otherhand, seemed unbothered.

"Is everything okay?" Asked Lucy, glancing upwards at the fancy little chandelier shaking above them.

"You get used to it." said George, taking a sip from his cup of tea without looking away from his book.

"Are they— is there something going on with them two?" She asked hesitantly, as a scream of "LOCKWOOD!" echoed down the stairs.

"I'd have to ask you to define something, because if you define that as hatred, then yes most definitely." He turned a page.

"No, I mean, you know...romantically?"

George looked up, eyes wide. "I should hope not. They'd set the word alight if so. It would be dangerous."

Lucy bit back a grin. That sounded close enough to her.

She heard footsteps in the hallway, and soon the door opened, and in stalked a jolly looking Anthony Lockwood. "Oh, hello!" He exclaimed at the sight of Lucy. He headed over to the kettle, fumbling with its switch as he looked out of the window. "Thought you'd already gone to bed. It's good you didn't, that racket she's making upstairs would have kept you up."

Goerge tutted across the table, and Lockwood looked back at him. "What?"

"Do you need to wind her up at every chance you get? You know it never ends well! I go to bed with a headache every night!" George huffed, flicking a page again. "Not to even mention the noise the neighbours must hear."

Lockwood chuckled, pulling the chair beside Lucy out from under the table. "Come on, it's funny."

"Does she find it funny?" asked Lucy, and Lockwood glanced at her sideways, as though he had forgotten she was there. She froze, as though she had accidentally spoke out of turn, but he didn't seem bothered. A smile spread over his face again, and he leaned back in the chair.

"She does, though she'll never admit it." He stood up at the ping of the kettle and went over to it, his back to the pair once again.

"Doesn't seem it." grumbled George.

"You wouldn't be able to tell, George." said Lockwood, grabbing a mug from the stand.

"It's not hard to tell that she's mad, Lockwood."

"She's not mad, George." It was now Lockwood's turn to tut. He turned to face them, his back to the counter top as he mixed the mug in his hand with a little spoon. "She only scrunches her nose like that when she's holding back a smile. And she doesn't chase people she's mad at, nor does she push them the way she does me all the time, with her hands flat forward like that. It's too soft to do damage."

Lucy stared at him, and then over at George, who had stopped mid sip, his mug in the air, and his brows knitted together. Lockwood, on the other hand, continued with a little smile, paying no heed to the pair at the table.

"If she was mad, she'd raise both her eyebrows while arguing," he stated matter-of-factly, "and she would sit here tugging on her sleeves and eyeing us all silently." George met Lucy's gaze at these words, remembering the conversation they had only minutes ago. Lockwood took a seat in his chair again, mug on the table.

"And she isn't giving me the silent treatment, or talking overly quickly. And most importantly," he paused to reach for a chocolate biscuit, before leaning back with a grin as he took a bite. "She isn't calling me Anthony. That would be a dead giveaway to anyo- why are you both looking at me like that?"

He looked between them, as neither replied. "Is there something on my face?"

George shook his head in disbelief. "You fool!"

Lockwood's forehead crinkled. "What?" He looked to Lucy, who shrugged, pushing her chair back with a piercing screech and getting up.

"I'm going to, er, head to bed." she said awkwardly. "'Night."

Lockwood nodded, still frowning and bid her farewell. George, meanwhile, remained astounded. "I can't believe I didn't piece it together earlier..."

"What, that Y/n doesn't get mad? Not hard to see." said Lockwood with a shrug.

"You really are clueless." George rose from his chair too, placing his mug in the sink. "Absolutely clueless."

He left without another word, leaving the brunette baffled.

"I really do work with weird people," muttered Lockwood, staring down at his tea.

"You're no better." His eyes shot up as you entered, and he feigned a sigh, pinching the bridgenpf his nose as you passed by him. "Talking to yourself, Lockwood, is a sign of insanity, I believe."

"Perhaps you're right, seeing as you do it all the time." He grinned at you as you opened the fridge and grabbed the box of donuts you'd bought last night as you returned after a meeting with DEPRAC.

"Well maybe I am insane." You sat across him, where George had been moments before. Lockwood rocked forwards on his elbows on the table, leaning in.

"Give me a donut."

Your brows creased together, and a grin spread over your face. "No."

"Oh, come on, just one!"

You feigned a look of thought. "And why would I do that?"

"Because I'm your favourite?" He said hopefully, earning a laugh in return. Lockwood's own eyes crinkled in the corners as he watched you, lips tugging into a smile for the hundreth time that day.

"The white one, right? Coloured sprinkles?"

Lockwood nodded eagerly, hand held out. You reached into the box, and he saw a look of fake guilt pass over your features.

"Oh no, would you look at that! I've already took a bite!"

Lockwood let out a gasp of offence. "What?"

"Sorry, my dear favourite person." You shook yaour head with a dramatic exhale. "You wouldn't want one I've already eaten, looks like you'll have to go buy your own."

With a smirk irritating enough to counter his usual one, you held up the white donut in your hand so it was clearly on display. Lockwood's eyes remained on it, studying the bite in it closely, and then over to you. His gaze remained steady, and you held yours too, but you could feel a smile threatening to bloom. But suddenly, his eyes had lit up, and before you could even question it, he'd reached across the table and pulled your hand over to him by your wrist. He'd taken a huge bite out of the donut in the time it took you to process the feeling of his warm hand around your wrist.

He sat in glory, staring at the shocked look on your face as he swallowed. You looked from him to the donut, then to his fingers around your wrist tightly. Lockwood seemed to notice it too, and let go instantly.

"You won't want one I've already eaten, Y/n." He quoted with a smirk, holding his hand out again, looking pointedly to the donut you still grasped. With a scowl, you handed it over. "Thought so."

He took an exaggerated bite from it, and his eyes travelled onto the rest of the box, which you grabbed and hugged to your chest. "Don't even try it. The rest are mine and Lucy's."

"I'm sure Lucy won't want all of them, Y/n."

"Well I do, so back off."

He laughed as you stormed out of the kitchen, steps echoing off the floorboards.

"Good night to you too!" He called, and you could practically hear him grinning.

"Unbearable," you muttered, but the smile on your face as you took the stairs two at a time wasn't one that would disappear any time soon.

#anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #Anthonylockwoodxreader #lucy carlyle #george karim #george cubbins #cameron chapman #ruby stokes #DEPRAC #bring back lockwood and co #neflix

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