A/N: For how long I've been watching this show, I'm amazed that I haven't come up with anything for it before now. Just something short and random. I've always thought Mr. Lucas' departure was incredibly abrupt…
Betas: SkyTurtle
Disclaimer: I do not own Are You Being Served?, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
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Closing Bell
Raven Ehtar
…
"Mr. Lucas! Are you free?"
The familiar, more than slightly effeminate cry got Dick Lucas, who was making his way across the showroom floor of Grace Brothers Ladies' and Gentlemen's Department, to stop and look back. He pulled a face, shaking his head. "It's well after closing bell, Mr. Humphries! You don't need to call out 'are you free' like there were still a load of customers about."
Mr. Humphries, freshly dressed in his usual blue work suit, smiled.
It was after closing bell; well after, in fact. It had already been after the bell when they had begun their little interdepartmental show for tots, first with their thrice rehearsed live Punch and Judy affair and then with a short song and dance with the entire department dressed as children. By the time they had finished, the wailing youngsters and their families returned home, and the majority of the detritus cleared away, it was getting well along into the night. Thankfully Maintenance had been procured for the rest of the cleanup over the weekend, otherwise they would all still be at it as the sun edged up over the horizon. As it was, Humphries and Lucas were the last ones in the building, Mr. Harmon having done something not entirely by the book by leaving the key to a side door with Mr. Humphries so he could get home to his wife. Only half of the lights remained on, each of the counters on both sides of the department were draped with their ghostly sheets, and normally bustling floor was empty, and echoingly silent.
"A force of habit," he conceded. "Silly, really, when we're the last two to leave. Everyone else left ages ago."
"Yes, well," Mr. Lucas looked embarrassed for a moment. "I had some trouble locating my trousers. I was sure I hung them up in the changing room…"
"Couldn't you find them?"
"No."
"Then what are you wearing?" Mr. Humphries asked, indicating the younger man's legs, which were most certainly clothed in something resembling trousers.
"Ah. Well, since I couldn't find me own trousers I had to pull a pair from stock. Once I have a chance to get home, change into some of my own kit, come back and find the pair that wandered off, then these will go right back on the rack."
Mr. Humphries chuckled along with his friend. In truth, it was his fault the trousers had gone missing. He'd snuck into the changing room while Lucas had been making a half-hearted pass at Miss Brahms and lifted the item of clothing and hidden it in Mr. Rumbold's office. It would take some explaining later, but he was always good at that, and he wanted to delay Lucas as much as possible, so they were the last two to leave, with no one else about to see them. "Will you be coming in early for that, Mr. Lucas?"
His smile faltered for a moment. "Why do you ask that, Mr. Humphries?"
The smile on Mr. Humphries did not falter, but it became much more somber, a melancholy smile. "I thought perhaps you might want to have time before opening bell to get yourself sorted… and to make a strategic exit before anyone else got in." He paused, studying the other man's face before continuing with a nod. "I have a friend in Accounts, you know. She told me everything. About your resignation, how you had requested it remain on the quiet until the very last moment."
"Well so much for it remaining confidential," Lucas groused, less than pleased. "What it the point of telling everyone to keep it a secret if it goes on the store grapevine?" He huffed, raking his fingers through his hair, obviously put out and at a loss.
Mr. Humphries wasn't distracted. He narrowed his eyes at Mr. Lucas slightly. "It didn't go on the grapevine, saucebox. She only told me, and I haven't breathed a word of it to a single soul. And I think she only told me because she knew you and I were close and thought I should know." He settled his weight into one hip, hand on same to give him a stern look. It didn't quite come off. "You know, I would have thought you would have at least told me if no one else that you were leaving Grace Brothers. Who am I supposed to chat with of a morning, I'd like to know?"
Lucas made a show of thinking about it before shrugging. "I suppose you could always try that friend in Accounts."
There was an awkward silence. Mr. Lucas was trying hard to look at ease and defiant at the same time and failing at both, while Mr. Humphries was valiantly trying to cover the sad gleam in his eye with an expression of outrage – which was also failing. The two of them had been companions at Grace Brothers for years and had never had such an uncomfortable moment as now, not even when Lucas had first begun and was still acclimating to Mr. Humphries and his idiosyncrasies. The fact that this could also be one of the last times, if not the last time the two of them shared company only made matters worse.
"So," Mr. Humphries finally managed. "Where will you be hanging your hat from now on? And why didn't you want to tell anyone?" There may or may not have been a tiny tremble in his voice by the end of the question.
The younger man sighed, eyes dropping to the hard floor. "Harrods. I had an offer from them a few weeks back and decided to take them up on it. I mean," he spread his arms wide to indicate the whole department, a helpless look on his face. "What could I expect if I stayed here, eh? How many years have I been here and I'm still a ruddy Junior! I'm sorry Mr. Humphries, but I would like the opportunity to advance before my hair starts falling out." He wiped a hand over his face, rattled. "And I didn't tell anyone because… because I didn't want any fuss made. I mean I hate it here, but… it's still a kind of home, you know? I felt badly leaving all of a sudden and…"
"And you thought you'd just leave like a thief in the night?" Mr. Humphries finished for him. He nodded, his lip curling, his eyes overly bright. "Oh, yes, I'm sure. Do you know I have never heard of anything so cowardly in all my life? Running off without a word to any of us. Just let us walk in on Monday morning expecting you and what? Have a new Junior instead? Do you think so little of us-?" It was no good, his voice failed him, the tears rose up to choke him. His chin quivering treacherously, Mr. Humphries pulled out the handkerchief from his top pocket and half-hid his face behind it.
Lucas took a couple of steps forward, his hand out. "Hey now, Clay, hey, hey…" he stopped just short of laying a hand on his friend, uncertain. He was the cause of these tears, but he wasn't sure he was the best one to stem them. He hated it when girls cried; silver-haired queens were even worse. He dropped his hand and wrung it with the other. "Of course I don't think so little of you. It's just… you're right. I'm a coward." He shrugged. "I didn't want to deal with the goodbyes so I thought I'd sneak out the back when no one was looking."
Humphries had regained control over himself enough to look back at him, sniffling slightly. The look he sent him was sharp enough to cut glass. "As I said, a thief in the night. You are terrible, you know that? They're probably going to saddle me with some horrible little bounder for me to break in, as well…" He took a deep, shuddering breath, shaking out his hankie.
Still unsure of himself – and his emotional companion – Lucas shifted his weight back and forth, fidgeting. "Come on. It's not like we'll never talk again, is it? We'll go out for drinks sometime, alright?"
Mr. Humphries managed a watery smile, putting away his hankie. "I would like that. " He noticed a stray lock of hair on Mr. Lucas and reached up to brush it back. To his surprise Lucas didn't pull back from the close contact as he normally did, but held still, staring straight at him. Humphries' heart did a strange little flip in his chest. "I would like that very much, Mr. Lucas." He let his fingers trail down and over the young man's slightly stubbled cheek, and was surprised again – shocked, really – when he still failed to pull away from the intimate touch.
He nearly fainted when another hand covered his, warm and square, a thumb stroking over the back of his hand. Mr. Lucas' lips twitched into a smile, and it wasn't even mocking. "Richard."
"Richard," he repeated, dazed. He never imagined achieving this with Luc- Richard. Not sober, anyway.
And he never dreamed that the young, woman-chasing gentleman would ever lean in to kiss him, in private or public, sober or anything but completely blotto. And yet that's exactly what he did, and Mr. Humphries forgot for a time why he had been so upset with him.