Chapter One, Haircut:
A/N: Hey, it's been years; I remember the days when there were only 37 fanfics in this lil community and I followed every single one. Anyhoo, this is an edit to an old fanfic so: enjoy!
(Disclaimer: Lockwood & Co. was written by Jonathan Stroud and this work is purely for fun)
"Lockwood, you need a haircut!" I say, as sternly as I can. Lockwood sighs loudly from beneath his dark, tousled hair and George snorts loudly from behind his comic book.
"Good luck convincing him. You should've seen him before you started here; when it rained he smelt like an old dog." I glance over at Lockwood, struggling to imagine his hair past his chin. It was currently hanging just past his ears, some bits of hair stuck down reluctantly and others flying out at haphazard angles. It's actually adorable but I can see it becoming a problem as Lockwood continues to struggle to see anything from beneath his Gerard Way-esque fringe.
"Oh, don't say that. I quite liked the length of my hair: it had class." George frowned at me and shook his head.
"He's delusional." George stage-whispered to me, taking an unnecessarily long slurp from his tea. Lockwood shushes him. I clear my throat.
"You do realise that by the Fittes Manual's newest edition, all hair should be tied back or cut if it is in danger of impairing your vision during ghostbusting time?" George nods in agreement, smirking.
"She's right you know. Page 234, paragraph 4, the tiny asterisk at the bottom." George shrugs his shoulders and points at Lockwood. "You, sir, are unfit to work until you cut your hair. This company is one to follow all the rules, of course, even the pathetic and unnecessary ones! You know us Lockwood, it's how we roll." Lockwood sighs and resigns in defeat.
"Fine. Just a trim though! Last time I had a haircut the hairdresser practically shaved my head. I couldn't be seen outside for weeks whilst it grew back…" George looks over to me with exasperation.
"I'll call the hairdresser." He says, dusting donut crumbs all over the carpet as he stands.
-A WEEK LATER-
A rather disgruntled looking Lockwood stands outside the front door, ready to leave, having a debate over whether or not a plaster was necessary for a tiny cut on his forehead. Lockwood was adamant that the small cut was actually a gaping wound, whereas George…
"If you don't take that ridiculous plaster off your head, I'm honestly going to call the hairdressers and tell them to shave all your hair off. IT'S NOT EVEN A SCRATCH! It's your own fault anyway, if you hadn't have let your hair grow so long, you wouldn't have walked into that tree… Just because you can't see the plaster now with all your hair, doesn't mean it isn't utterly ludicrous."
George had a slightly different opinion. Once we arrived at the hairdressers, the mood changed.
Lockwood's face lit up and he was full of childish excitement as he sat down for his haircut. He was practically jumping off the walls. The hairdresser walks over and starts very obviously flirting with Lockwood, but Lockwood is so oblivious it would be almost hilarious, if I didn't feel a such a strange anger at the hairdresser, and Lockwood too, for not dismissing the flirting. I grit my teeth together and glare at the hairdresser.
"Having trouble, Lucy? You look like you're about to kill the poor man." George noted with a knowing smirk.
"What do you mean, George?" I say through clenched teeth but regretted answering almost immediately.
"You looooove him," he drawls, melodramatically cackling at me.
"Ew, no, of course I don't! That would be so gross. Ew." George rolls his eyes and doesn't say anything else but wiggles his eyebrows whenever my eyes linger on Lockwood for longer than a millisecond.
After a short 15 minutes, Lockwood skips over and runs a hand through his hair. It's cut short at the sides but is still a floppy mess on the top. To be honest, Lockwood looks really good. I can see just over Lockwood's shoulder the hairdresser is practically crying from joy, holding a piece of paper with Lockwood's number on it like he sold his soul for it. I try to contain my obvious annoyance at this, whilst also trying to reason with myself as to why I'm so bothered that other people are interested in Lockwood, and why my heart is pounding from just looking at Lockwood and his new haircut.
"Isn't it good? I think it might be a little bit short, but I like it!" Lockwood grins wildly at George and I, noticing the sour mood and frowning at us, "What's happened between you two?"
"Doesn't matter, nothing really." I cut in before George can make some outlandish comment and try to steer the conversation towards hair. "I like your hair, it's less in your face." Lockwood thanks me and asks George what he thinks.
"I think it's trendy claptrap that hairstyle, but you know, it's alright." And he shrugs. I almost facepalm, but Lockwood seems pleased enough, and we hail a cab to take us back to 35 Portland Row.
A/N: will hopefully update this again soon(ish); I've exams over the next couple of weeks (mocks of our mocks), and I'm in the process of editing my other three fics ¯\_(ツ)_/¯