Archive of Our Own ^beta

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Lucy stared appreciatively at her mug of beer. The case had been an easy one, albeit involving copious amounts of physical labour. The three of them had unanimously agreed to retire to a nearby bar, where they were now nursing three pints of beer. Lockwood was already on his fourth mug, and George was rapidly going through his fifth.

As a general rule, Lucy didn’t drink. However, the case had been incredibly taxing, and surely a pint couldn’t hurt. She glanced at her two boys’ rosy cheeks, and shook her head fondly. Both of them were such lightweights, she didn’t expect them to last much longer before going home hungover.

“I have an idea,” Lockwood slurred indistinctly, “Les’s play a game. Hic. I bet you two are rubbi- hic- runnish- rubbish at flying.” Lucy blinked, “Excuse me?” Lockwood waved his hands expansively, “You know, flinging.” He scratched the back of his neck, then his eyes lit up. “Flirting! I bet you’re rubbish at -hic- flirting.”

George gave him an offended look. “Just because we’re not as posh as you doesn’t mean we don’t know how to flirt,” he snapped. He turned to Lucy, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Let’s show this posh Londener how to flirt, shall we, Luce?” Lucy giggled. It was obvious that both of them was drunk beyond their limit. However, who was she to stop their silly antics?

“Alright.” Lucy shrugged. “Loser has to forfeit a week’s turn of the biscuit rotation?” The boys agreed enthusiastically.

“You’re on,” smirked Lockwood.

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“Alright, George,” Lockwood said, beaming. “See that girl over there with the blue hat? Go get her number.” 

Lucy glanced at the hapless victim ahem, lucky girl. She had short, mousy black hair and a rapier strapped to her waist. Another agent, it seemed. 

George swayed upright, then staggered towards the startled girl. Lucy followed a suitable distance behind and sat down nearby, Lockwood coming to join her.

“Hey,” George said, smiling lopsidedly at the agent- probably Rotwell, Lucy guessed, though she was out of uniform. “Do you know that 68.64% of ghosts are victims of crimes of passion?” 

The girl blinked, obviously befuddled as a random guy started spewing facts to her face. Lucy face-palmed. “Oh my god, does he actually think that will work?” she asked, incredulous. Lockwood watched with avid amusement, barely concealing his chortles.

“The Fittes archives did an extensive survey on it once,” George continued obliviously, “and they investigated over five thousand sources.” 

The girl snorted derisively. “Five thousand? Rotwell did one with over ten.” 

George gasped, eyes widening, “Really? They don’t open their resources to the general public. It’s such a waste, too. I bet they’d have excellent material for cases.”

The girl dug in her pocket and pulled out a card. “Call me when you’re free, and I’ll show you the collection,” she offered. “It’s very impressive, and any researcher would be honoured to see it.” 

George nodded emphatically, though Lucy figured it was more because of his date with an archive than with the girl. He flounced back to Lucy and Lockwood triumphantly, brandishing the card. 

“I can’t believe that worked,” Lucy whispered to Lockwood, gaping.

“I know right?” Lockwood hissed. They watched silently as George swigged some beer and grinned at them.

"Right," he said, smacking his lips, "Who's next?"

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Lucy sighed. “Guess that’s me.” She supposed that, loosely speaking, she had an advantage as she was not dead drunk. However, she was nowhere as prim as George or as hot as Lockwood. The only thing she had was her talent.

“The bartender.” George decided. “Go get us a free drink.” Lucy nodded obediently and moved off. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lockwood stiffen.

“I don’t think that’s…”

George cut him off. “It’s your idea, Lockwood. Now shut up.”

Lucy considered the conversation carefully. Maybe Lockwood was annoyed that she wouldn’t get HIM a free drink.

She sashayed over to the bar, smiling at the young barman. “Hii,” she said in a singsong voice. The barman looked up, an annoyed expression fixed in place, which slid off as soon as he noticed her. She snorted inwardly. Boys were all the same. Most boys, she amended, an image of dark eyes and high cheekbones floating in front of her eyes.

“Hey,” he said, with what he probably thought was a cool smirk but only succeeded in making him look stupid. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing out after curfew?”

Lucy blinked. Was he that dense? There was literally a rapier attached to her hip! “I’m an agent,” she said bluntly.

The barman tutted, “Such a pity. Let me get you a drink.” He poured out the beer, then handed it to her, their fingers brushing. “A nice thing like you, I bet you’d love to have someone protect you.”

Lucy yanked her hand away and swiftly drew her rapier, casually twirling it in the air with her right hand while clutching the mug in her left. “Thank you for the beer,” she said brightly. The barman ducked as the tip of the rapier spun over his head. “Oh, and by the way,” she added, turning away, “I don’t need your protection.” She stalked back to their table and slammed the drink down. Both Lockwood and George were staring at her, slack-jawed.

Lucy raised the mug. “Cheers, Lockwood. It’s your turn.”

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George stood up to peer around the bar to find Lockwood's victim. 

“Aha!” George exclaimed proudly, falling back down into his creaky chair. “I found one.”

Lockwood and Lucy turned to see which girl George scoped out. It was a pretty blonde a few tables down, laughing with her friends. There was a small twinge in Lucy’s stomach, a panging sensation that made her heart ache. Lucy stared suspiciously down at her drink, which was almost finished. Was there something wrong with it?

She squinted into the mug, then shrugged. She hadn’t drunk for a long time. Maybe that was it. Just an aftereffect of the beer she’d almost finished. It was making her quite woozy now, but she no longer cared.

“Uh, her?” Lockwood asked, looking uncertain.

“Yup.” George answered. “Unless our little posh boy is too afraid?” He snickered.

A quick flash of annoyance crossed Lockwood's face. He shoved his shoulders back and straightened up.

“I'm not afraid. I just..” He glanced over at Lucy, almost too quick to catch. “Never mind. This’ll be too easy.”

Huh? Lucy thought, confused. What was that about? He usually loves the chance to show off.

He walked towards the girl with his usual swagger and coat flourish, albeit a little wonky thanks to the alcohol.

“Hey.” He said, turning on his megawatt smile.

Lucy can see her blush from here, and can feel the blood rush to her face too, just not in a good way. That girl shouldn't be blushing at Lockwood. And he shouldn't be smiling at her like that. No, this was all wrong. SHE should be sitting there giggling at him. Not that she giggled of course, but all the same.

Lucy knew this was the alcohol talking, but she could also feel a bit of truth in the words. she really did want to be the one talking to Lockwood. Even in her drunk state though, she didn't have enough confidence to go over to them. So, she simply sat and watched. 

She saw Lockwood glance over at them, and she gave a wave and a small smile, despite the unfamiliar feelings brewing in her stomach. 

She should really remember not to drink so much wine next time. 

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Lucy was feeling awful. She didn’t know why she was feeling like this, like something was clawing at her chest, but she knew that she HATED it. It made her feel out of control of herself, like she didn’t know what she wanted anymore. 

Lockwood was giving the girl one of his signature charming grins, and the girl simpered back at him. The two talked a lot, with the blonde batting her eyelashes and moving gradually closer to him, eventually laying her hand on his arm. 

Then, to her utter surprise, she saw Lockwood mutter a quick goodbye to the girl, and hurriedly walked out the door of the pub. 

Lucy sat and swirled the contents of her mug around for a long while. She stared into the mahogany depths and saw Lockwood’s brilliant smile, George’s knowing grin. She remembered how unhappy she had felt when Lockwood had been flirting with that girl. 

Lucy didn’t get it. And what you didn’t understand could kill you. Better to just ignore it, shove it into the deepest recesses of her mind where they couldn’t hurt her. Yes. That was the best course of action. 

With a resolutely expressionless face, Lucy swigged the last dregs of her drink and forced her thoughts to disappear into the faint fog of alcohol buzzing in her mind. 

She was too tired to deal with this tonight. It could wait until tomorrow.