Lockwood and Co. - Oneshots

Christmas

[A/N] Ok, ik it's not christmas plz do NOT come at me. I still felt like it would be a good addition and I will not be waiting 8 months until a real chance to post something like this xoxo. anyways lmk how u like it !!!

Timeline: Somewhere in between TCS and TEG.

This is gonna be a pretty long chapter, buckle in plz.

im still not affiliated with johnathan stroud. on with the show tho x

// Lucy's POV \\

   December in 35 Portland Row is a peculiar time. Wherever you look, garland is hung and ornaments inhabit the walls. In addition to sight, the scent is rather appealing. Sugar cookies, spiced apples, and a hint of mildew - the house is old after all. It is all George's doing, anyway. Lockwood was never really the type for family holidays, and I don't much like Christmas because it reminds me of my family in the north of the country. There is one common thought we all have in relation to Christmas, though - being that we are glad there are no cases in the books.

  Every day in the week leading up to Christmas, Lockwood and I were awoken by a screaming George. 'Breakfast in five! Be there or I WILL cut you.' George was the type to try to intimidate you to get his way. I heard a sigh from down the stairs and knew that Lockwood was awake. The peculiar thing is, I heard our feet hit the floor at the same time. I pulled on a gray jumper and some plaid pajama trousers. I stumbled down the stairs and hit the landing, rubbing my eyes - that is until I ran into something. I opened my eyes, and I noticed Lockwood standing there, confusedly. 'Good Morning, Luce,' he smiled. I did love his smile - it seemed to light up whichever room he was in, even in the direst situations. We stared at each other, with myself being unable to read his facial expression. I felt a deep crimson blush slither onto my cheeks as I took in his features. I never did notice how he had a few freckles on his cheeks, or how he had smile lines - even though I could have guessed that. 

   As I continued on my way to the kitchen, Lockwood caught my arm. He opened his mouth - as if to say something, but then shut it. He then spoke, 'Sorry for running into you, Luce.' I responded with a quick 'Don't sweat it,' and continued down the stairs. I really hoped that he didn't see the bright shade of pink tinging my ear tips. George and I chatted throughout breakfast - on a vast number of topics. The shade from two nights ago? We chatted about that. The recent concert three blocks down? Chatted about that too. Conspiracies about the problem? You guessed it. I did notice, however, that Lockwood had been awfully distant - not really participating in the conversation. He seemed very deep in thought, so I resolved that I wouldn't bother him. 

   The last day before Christmas passed just as any other - until approximately dusk. That's when the festivities started. George brought some very weird traditions into 35 Portland Row, but this was by far one of, if not THE weirdest. Every Christmas Eve at 10 p.m., we slink down to the library and push all the tables together. Then, we go change into the ugliest Christmas outfits we could scrounge together. Once that is done, we model them. If you think I'm kidding, I'm not. This is George's absolute favorite because he gets to practice his strutting.

   Now I know it's not my place to mention this, but sequential to George's strutting, he fell off the platform. Twice. Lockwood tripped while walking and fell face-first into a lamp placed at the end of the tables. I slipped on a receipt that fell out of George's boat shoes and twisted my ankle. George then declared 'I am literally so done with you guys laughing at me. I'm off for a shower.' Lockwood and I then proceeded to cackle in his face. 

   The last item on the list of Christmas Eve traditions (made by George, of course) is to build a fort - and sleep in it. George had decided that he would help build the fort, but not sleep in it. He had come to the conclusion that the collective of Lockwood and I would play some horrible prank on him and he would never recover. I must say, It wouldn't have been a bad thing for him to get pranked - but, I guess that wasn't on the cards. 

   We built a massive fort. It consisted of a welcoming space and a sleeping space. We used up every spare blanket and pillow in the house. The last blanket used was made into a sort of sleeping pallet for us. Lockwood and I retreated to our rooms to change into sleepwear and prepare for the night. Once we entered the fort, we weren't allowed to leave for 12 hours - and Lockwood later proclaimed that he was my savior for including an extension cord for a kettle. We did everything we could to pass the time - that is until we could barely hold our eyes open. It seems that the fort looked bigger from the outside than it did in, because when we eventually retired to the sleeping arrangement, it was a rather tight fit. Once I finally got comfortable, I took stock of my surroundings. I blushed as I realized that Lockwood's hand was on my waist. I blushed even more so when I realized my hand was on his chest - and that his heart was racing under my touch. 

   I was drifting to sleep when I heard a small 'I love you, Lucy Carlyle. I always have, and I always will.' A deep crimson invaded my cheeks. To add 'insult to injury', I felt a pair of lips graze my forehead. They lingered there for what felt like hours - and If I'm going to be honest, I wish they had been there for that long. I fell asleep feeling nothing else but happiness. 

   I woke up in Lockwood's arms. I slowly rose, as not to wake the body next to me. My attempt was in vain, however, because Lockwood is a very light sleeper. 'Good morning, Lockwood. How did you sleep?' I asked. As he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, he answered. 'I slept fine, although the floor could have been a little softer,' he cracked. 'How about you?'. I didn't hear his question, as I was too busy staring at how his hair perfectly flopped into his face, or how raspy his morning voice was. I decided to go out on a limb and ask him about last night. 'Lockwood, why did you say you loved me last night? Why did you kiss my forehead?' His eyes widened. 'You heard that? Oh, Luce, I'm so sorry. I thought you were asleep - I just had to get my feelings out.' I was confused - what feelings? Did he have feelings for me? 'What feelings? What does this mean, Lockwood?'

   His face contorted with a grimace as he choked the words out. 'It means I love you, Luce. I have had feelings for you ever since you crossed the iron line and applied for the job - grade four or not. I understand if you don't feel the same, but I had to tell you. I don't know what I would do with myself If you went off with someone else and I was forced to love you secretly.' His expression changed to sadness as I sat there in thought. 'Luce, please, say something. Anything.' I didn't say anything. Instead, I scooted closer to him. I raised my head to his and kissed him. To my surprise, he immediately kissed back. 

   I wrapped my arms around his neck and tangled my hands in his hair. He let out a groan when I did this, and I figured he liked it. His tongue swiped at my lip, asking for entrance - to which I gladly obliged. As he laid me on my back, ecstasy rang my like a bell. As we broke apart, gasping for air, the door opened. We quickly sat up, fixing the wrinkles in our shirts. George came stomping down the stairs and lifted a pillow off the roof. 'I've finished breakfast. It'll be on the table in 5. Be there.' 

   As Lockwood got up from his sitting position, he kissed my forehead.

'Merry Christmas, Luce,' he said.

[A/N] Ok, that was a long one. lmk how u liked it xoxo

Word Count: 1462