The Golden Coast: A Locklyle Fanfiction

Part 7

  Kinda Important Announcement

  Before you read, please listen to the video above and check out the image of the kitchen. The one I'll be describing in this chapter is similar to that one, if you want a basic visual. THANKS FOR READING!!!! Y'ALL ARE ALL AMAZING!!!!!!!

  WoF-Hybrid10 Signing OUT!

Lockwood wiped sweat off his brow. He changed out of his swimsuit into a pair of shorts, but it already felt like the air itself was boiling, so he didn't put on anything else. When he walked into the kitchen to get a drink of water, Lucy quickly put down the boxes of biscuits she was putting up and covered her eyes and yelped. "Put something on Lockwood! We've got guests soon!!" Lockwood struck a pose: "What, you think this is too much?" Skull made an extravagant face and whispered: "YOU don't think so." Lucy glared at the Skull from between her fingers. "Shut up. If I didn't need to cover my eyes I'd turn your valve and I won't let you out for your afternoon stretch as punishment." It shrank back and pouted. 

  Lucy stared up at the ceiling and continued her work, dutifully keeping her gaze off of Lockwood. "I can't believe it, Luce. You've battled gorily murdered ghosts with rotting pulverized features and you act like you're mind is cleaner than that heavy-duty soap George uses on his cutlery and dinner objects." "Yes, it does work wonders doesn't it. I'm amazed anything could get the stains out of George's napkins. It even got the ectoplasm out of his jeans as well." Lockwood groaned. "Now you're changing the subject. But seriously." Lucy sighed. "Fine. I don't know anything about anything, because I never got 'the Talk'. Seriously. Stop making this weird." 

  Lockwood chuckled as Lucy tried to reach a tall shelf. He took the plate from her and put it in without even having to go on tiptoe. Lucy looked up at him with a glare. He was over half a foot taller than her. "You obscenely tall ginormous giraffe." she accused, leaning down to put the last dirty dish in the dishwasher. Lockwood surveyed the room. "Woah, you've worked quite fast." he noted. "No shit, Sherlock." came her reply, muffled as she rooted around for a new bar of soap to place aesthetically on the new ceramic soap dish sitting on the polished marble countertop. 

  The kitchen was relatively large but still cozy and homey, a snowy white marble counter running around two sides of the room with cupboards of an elegant blue-gray color fixed to the walls above. The floor was made of smooth, honey-colored oak and the ceiling was also made of wood, slightly differently colored wooden beams parallel to each other, exact spaces in between to create a sight that was pleasing to the eye. A small fixture hung down from the ceiling for holding pots and pans, with a lamp hanging down next to it, right over a little counter in the center of the room with a couple of stools, where George sometimes did his research over a bowl of hastily prepared cornflakes. He was exploring farther into the Problem, trying to match different periods of time and events in history to specific areas where large clusters of ghosts were found to determine what types of ghosts they might be, important research for the time, especially for him to take, but he met it on with an 'iron will', which were the only words that could even begin to describe his personality.

  Usually, the countertop was covered in layers of flour, dust, crumbs, and occasionally a sticky residue left by a pool of syrup. Occasionally, if you went digging for snacks, you would find a whole colony of dust-bunnies and unidentifiable packets of moldy, brittle objects, and if you ran a finger over the top of a shelf, it would come down covered in dust and with a few poky, jagged crumbs under your nail. 

  Now, the countertop had been seemingly power-hosed off and polished until Lockwood could see his reflection. All of the dirty dishes were gone from the sink and the sink's silvery surface had been polished as well. The shelves were clean, and when Lockwood opened a cupboard, his mouth hung wide open when he saw the clean, neat interior. Lucy straightened up, brushing the wrinkles from her skirt. Lockwood noticed that lately she'd been paying attention to her appearance. She was prepared for their visitors, but Lockwood knew who the other two visitors were. Holly, Quill and Flo WERE coming, but the other visitors were coming straight from a rural town Lucy knew very well. She was prepared physically, decked out in a light white linen top tucked neatly into the hem of her light pink silken skirt a few inches above her waist that came down to just below her knees.

  Lockwood suddenly realized how disheveled he looked right then. He almost laughed. Back then, he was usually seen in a 'too-tight' suit, according to Lucy, and his jacket. She was almost always dressed in dark colors and was known for her shabby, slightly baggy outfit. However, here in this climate, Lucy was a bright, vibrant and prettily clothed, while Lockwood was so unused to the weather he slept with his blankets thrown across the room. He felt something towards her that he could never admit, even to himself, but he knew that whatever he gave her would be brief. His luck would run out at some point, and his recklessness could only lead to one point for them. 

  Lucy turned her attention to their room. She had taken Holly's role that afternoon, vacuuming and fiercely scrubbing at even the smallest stains on the carpet. Finally, she had all of their clothes and things neatly folded in drawers and tucked into shelves or placed at the perfect angle in perfect places to appear perfectly perfected. Finally, she sat down, then realized she'd forgotten to clean the dust from the chandelier on the ceiling. There were no chairs in the room, and she was too exhausted to go drag in a stool from the kitchen. 

  "Lockwood, clean that chandelier for me." "Why?" "I'm too short, Ginormous Giraffe." "Don't call me that!" "No." "Fine, I won't clean it." "OH MY FU-" "Fine, I'll give you a boost." Lucy folded her arms and glared at him until she realized that was the best she'd get. She let out a long-suffering sigh as Lockwood grabbed her around the waist like he'd done a few days ago during rapier practicing, lifting her easily. "Have you been on a diet?" he asked as she got to work with a cloth. "Yeah. It'd please Holly, and I want to look good for their arrival." "You've succeeded then." Lucy hoped he couldn't see the blush she felt creeping over her cheeks. 

  "Alright, done. Now set me down CAREFULLY on the floor." Lucy instructed, happily inspecting her work. "No." Lucy whipped her head around. "Excuse me, wha-" Lockwood, holding her at arm's length like a hissing, scratching cat and dropped her onto a beanbag. She shrieked when she hit the pillows and immediately started scolding him, using....quite salty language to say the least. "LOCKWOOD!! I JUST GOT THAT FU***** BEANBAG FROM THE STORE!!!! SH**, YOU COULD'VE BROKEN IT YOU ARE **************(her cursing Lockwood out but we don't want to see that because he's our adorable smiley giraffe)*********?!!" Lockwood kept a smile on his face and simply said: "You're adorable when you get angry." Lucy groaned and threw a pillow at him, but he picked her up again. "Let's go see what George's up to." 

  George poked his head into the room and saw Lockwood and Lucy, then promptly withdrew his head for a few moments, then poked his video camera into the room. When he captured the footage, he pumped his fist, whispered a little: "YES!" of victory and snuck back to his room, which was now as clean as he could get it without stretching the seat of his trousers more than necessary.