"Is that a – is that for swimming?"
Quill cleared his throat. "Yes, it's a swimming pool."
I blinked. "But we live in England. When do we even have the weather for that?"
He sighed deeply and rubbed his face. "Always, according to my dad, apparently. He's going there every morning, like a lunatic."
I turned my eyes back to the house. It was a great, big villa in red brick. The many windows were trimmed with white. It was larger than 35 Portland Row, and it was in all honesty far more beautiful.
The garden was enormous and well-kept and from what I could tell, there was no peeling paint, no rotten wood on the porch, no broken tiles, or chipped flowerpots to be seen anywhere. Not in the garden and not at the house.
I wondered if this was what Portland Row had looked like back when Lockwood's parents were alive.
More importantly, I found myself thinking, for the first time since I started my employment with Lockwood and co, that these people were so far removed from the way I'd grown up myself that maybe we didn't have anything in common at all.
I looked back at Quill and the wet, but still neat shirt he was wearing. He was adjusting into a life I certainly didn't fit into.
He gave me a smile and for some reason, it was tinted with insecurity and I didn't understand how or why. He obviously had nothing to be insecure about.
"My parents are living in there and my brother, assuming that he's in. They all live on the upper floors, but I still have rooms in the basement. There's the outside entrance," he pointed at some stairs going downwards at the side of the house. "The entire garden is locked off. This fence is going all the way around."
"You really do like your privacy,"
Quill snorted. "I don't know anyone who doesn't, but please remember that this is my parent's house. I've lived on my own for some years now and I've been completely self-sufficient up until now."
"Wow, congrats to him for being able to rough it with the riff-raff for a few years. I would slow-clap, but I don't have any hands."
"Shut up," I hissed at the skull.
Quill raised an eyebrow at me. "Let's go down. We'll keep to the right. That way no one can see us from the windows."
"How often have you snuck in and out of this place?" I wondered out loud.
He grinned at me. "Have you never snuck around before?"
"I uh –" I swallowed, "No. I haven't. Let's just get going. I'm cold."
He frowned and was about to say something, so I quickly began moving down the branch. I wasn't going to sit and talk about my childhood home, while staring at his brilliant one.
When I was on the other side of the fence, I let myself hang from the arms and then drop down. The soft grass absorbed most of the impact. Quill dropped down right behind me and together, we crept along the fence on the right side.
Once we got closer to the house, we crossed a small terrasse that led down a flight of tiled stairs. At the bottom was a door with a large oval window in frosted glass. A light turned on automatically above us.
"Can you pick the lock?" Quill whispered.
I shrugged. "You do it."
"I don't have any equipment with me."
"You can borrow mine," I started rifling through my bag.
"No, they're yours"
"But it's your house" I offered him my set.
He didn't take it but stood with crossed arms, biting his lip. If I wasn't much mistaken, his cheeks had taken a pinkish hue in the pale light from the lamp.
"You do know how to pick a lock, don't you?"
he huffed. "I've never needed to, alright,"
"Right, he probably had people for that."
"I started late, and all my teammates already knew how. I just never needed to learn," he defended.
I wanted to tease him so bad. Picking locks was such a basic skill as an agent that not having learned it was embarrassing times ten. I couldn't make myself do it though, as he stood there, scowling with his ears turning redder by the second. It was frankly adorable.
"I'll teach you sometime then," I offered. I took his hand and gave it a little squeeze.
His cheeks turned even more pink than before, but he gave me a small rueful smile.
"Let's get out of the cold for now. Can you please pick the lock?"
I smirked. "Does George like to moisturise with bacon fat?"
Quill made a face and I got down on my knees and got to work.
"Shit," I hissed when I dropped the pick for the third time.
I rubbed my hands together. They were completely numb.
Quill kneeled down beside me and took both my hands in his. They were a bit warmer than mine, but not by much. He brought them to his mouth and blew warm air on them.
I looked on; a bit mesmerised.
When he deemed my fingers warm enough, he kissed both my palms.
"Thanks," I breathed, a bit shakily. The shaking was definitely due to the cold.
After a few heartbeats of staring at him, I returned to my task while listening to the skull's retching sounds.
Finally, the lock gave in with a reluctant
Click
Quill went inside and flicked the lights on immediately.
I flicked them off just as fast.
"What –"
"Are you sure it's a good idea to turn on the lights? Wouldn't it be visible from the outside?"
"It's fine, Lucy. I think it would be more suspicious to see someone roaming about with a flashlight."
He still went about drawing curtains in front of the windows before turning the lights back on.
I took a look around and was instantly confused.
"Where's the bed?"
Quill's eyebrows when high on his forehead. "Well, that's mighty forward of you."
"No!" I laughed. "Don't be an idiot. You said this was your room, so where do you sleep?"
It seemed that this room had everything but a bed. There was a small kitchenette off to the right and next to it the door was open into a bathroom. There was a desk to the left as well as a loveseat, a coffee table, and an armchair. Across from the loveseat was a large television, mounted on the wall.
He walked over one of two doors next to the television and opened it.
Inside was a queen-sized bed with a beautiful wrought iron frame. I assumed the other door led into the rest of the house.
Bloody hell. His room was an entire bloody flat.
"Neat," I got out.
He winked at me. "This is even better." He pulled a set of pyjamas out of a drawer and handed them to me along with a fresh pair of socks. "You go have a shower to get warmed up. Then I'll try and call the hospital to check on Tony. "
I went back in the sitting room, and almost had a laughing fit when I finally noticed the décor.
"Yeah yeah, you just laugh it up. I didn't know better, did I? I haven't lived here since I was about sixteen."
The walls were light grey, and a large, framed poster hung on one wall, proudly displaying Fittes Agency's logo, the rearing unicorn.
Quill wrinkled his nose at it. "I feel like it's looking at me." He grumbled and, in the end, he took it down and turned it around so the unicorn couldn't stare at him any longer.
"Shower" he whispered and made a shooing motion towards the bathroom.
I liked the bathroom at Quill's house. But this? This was something else entirely. This room was all marble, gilded things, and even a tiny crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. I had never felt more out of place in my life. Perhaps except from that anniversary party at Fittes.
What had Lockwood said? That I might have been born to this? Highly unlikely – that much was clear to me as I looked at myself in the mirror, pulling leaves and small twigs out of my messy hair.
The way I grew up? I never had my own room, let alone several of them. And sneaking around? I caught myself rubbing my bum subconsciously. My mum would have been furious if I wasn't home on time. As I got older, that anger turned into indifference. As long as the payment was on time, it didn't matter if I was anymore.
I would never belong in a place like this. I was too rough, too loud, and too messy. And to me, that was fine. That was just who I was. Did I want to be pretty and elegant and all that? Maybe, sometimes. But my mum's words rang in my head. I wasn't here to be pretty. Beauty and grace were for other people.
I quickly took off my clothes and hung them on the radiator. They were absolutely soaked and dirty from climbing the tree. There was a bit of blood on my sleeve but for once it wasn't my own. I thought about the close call on the train. Quill had saved me again and it didn't sit well with me. At least he didn't risk his own life to do so, but I hated needing to be saved.
I got in the shower and slowly warmed up the water. Even at low temperature, my feet were burning
"Nice neighbourhood, eh? I've been around these parts before, you know. Killed a fellow down the street from here. Slit his throat while he was going at it with the maid."
I almost slipped.
"How did you even – Never mind, I don't want to know. And I don't believe I invited you in here," I grumbled.
"You know, you're probably the only person I've known to actually LOSE their attraction to someone after finding out that they were loaded."
"I didn't lose –"
"HA! So, you ARE attracted to him."
"I hate you sometimes." I grumbled.
"You don't. You love my witty and insightful comments on your miserable life"
I sighed heavily. "Just go away, I'm not in the mood."
I debated washing my hair, but a small sniff of the shampoo confirmed that this was indeed the dwelling of Quill from the past and I easily decided against washing myself in that cloying sweet scent that threatened to give me a migraine.
"Idea; you could marry Kipps, stage a little accident and then we'll use his money to start Carlyle and Skull back up. Just brainstorming here."
"Do you even have a brain? Is it shrivelled up somewhere in there?" I grimaced at the mental image.
"Irrelevant. I know about three undetectable poisons."
I warmed myself with the water, trying to avoid getting my hair wet. Then I towelled off with the ridiculously fluffy towel and got out.
The pyjamas were a bit too large, but after running around in the rain in nothing but a t-shirt, skirt and leggings, the soft flannel felt heavenly. Hopefully, my soaked clothes would dry fast. I adjusted the thermostat on the radiator to hopefully speed up the process.
Quill looked up with a wide grin when I exited. He was waiting in the armchair with a steaming mug of tea.
I took it gratefully and melted into the loveseat.
He smiled when I moaned after taking a sip of the hot drink. "I've got something else for you."
He pulled out a pair of boots from behind the chair.
"My mum never really liked these. She won't miss them,"
"I don't –"
I didn't know what to say. They were beautiful. Not in the posh, fashionable sort of way. They were practical, exactly the way I liked them, but the leather was shiny and softer than anything I'd ever felt, and they were handstitched. It was clear that I would never be able to afford a pair like these myself or at least, I probably wouldn't be willing to pay the price they cost.
"-thank you." I would have refused them blankly if I'd had a choice, but I couldn't keep going without shoes. I'd give them back as soon as I could get my own though.
"Try them on. I had no idea about your size, but I don't think the difference is too big."
The boots fit perfectly, and they felt amazing. The sole was a bit more flexible than I was used to and they had a bit more heel than the ones I'd left behind at Quill's house.
"I found some clothes for you as well, and a jacket. I don't think my mum has ever used either of it."
"No, I couldn't possibly. We'll just wait for my clothes to dry."
Quill shook his head. "No time. I managed to talk to Tony directly and he said that he'll get himself discharged. I figured we could go pick him up. Get you back to Portland Row."
I found myself smiling. "I'd like that. Your sofa is great and all, but I still prefer my bed."
"No matter what your bed is like, I bet mine is better." He sing-songed and winked at me.
"That's an invitation if I ever heard one."
I swallowed "I don't think it's a good idea to go back there,"
I didn't feel like telling him that he was right.
He smiled and shook his head. "I'm not going to. I'm thinking about coming back here to tell my parents that I was robbed. Then I'll stay here until I find a new place to live."
I only nodded. It made sense.
"Now, I'm going to take a shower. You should get dressed. The clothes are on the bed."
With a click of the bathroom door, he was gone. I didn't move until I heard the sound of the shower.
I went to look at the clothes and wondered if it might not be worth it to put my wet clothes back on.
"You could also just go naked. Really make a statement."
"And what statement would that be?" I raised an eyebrow even though the skull couldn't see it. Or maybe it could. Who knew.
"You know 'come and get me' – That thing you're too much of a coward to say."
I rolled my eyes and considered the clothes. They weren't that bad actually. I couldn't imagine any sort of motherly figure wearing them, but that was beside the point.
The jeans were a bit snug for my liking, but not so tight that I had to flop around like a fish in an attempt to button them, like it had once happened when I tried to borrow Mary's. That's where my general dislike of jeans stemmed from. That, and my normal skirt and leggings gave me a lot more flexibility when working.
I looked at myself in the mirror. The white blouse was especially foreign to me. I didn't remember the last time I'd even worn white. Or anything with frills. This was the sort of thing Holly would look good in.
"Now you just have to hope he isn't thinking too much of his mum when he looks at you in it."
I made a face.
I picked up the black trench-coat he had put on the bed next to the clothes and something fell on the floor. Something small. It must have come from one of the pockets.
It was a small box. I draped the coat over my arm, put the box on the coffee table and sat down in the armchair, waiting for Quill to finish his shower. The jar with the skull was sticking out of my open bag.
It was a pretty box.
It was shaped almost like a small treasure chest.
It was dark blue and embossed with gold.
Quill sure took his time in the shower.
"Would you just look in that bloody box? You're killing me here." The skull groaned.
"You're already dead."
"Again then."
I looked at the bathroom door. The shower was still running.
"Do it!"
I grabbed the box with a sigh. It had a tiny clasp, almost like a real treasure chest. It made me smile, but I'm not certain why. I took a small peek inside.
A pair of earrings.
They weren't like the sort I usually saw. Plenty of the clients we had wore earrings. Usually they were pearls or glitzy, polished gemstones the size of saucers. I had often looked at a client and wondered how their earlobes could sustain that much weight.
I only had small studs in silver to keep the holes from closing up.
But these were beautiful. They were golden studs with small golden chains hanging from them. Each chain had small green stones attached. They were delicate and understated.
"Quill's mum has good taste," I commented lowly.
"I don't know about that. Look at what she named her son."
I snorted and put the box back on the table before getting up. I wanted to try the boots on again, see how they fit with the rest. As I did, the door to the bathroom opened. I hadn't even heard the shower stop.
Quill stepped out, fully dressed. I hoped he'd done like me and had foregone the floral nightmare. His eyes went wide when he saw me. He gave me a slow once-over and I crossed my arms and cleared my throat.
"I certainly hope he doesn't look at his mother like that. Run, Lucy!"
His eyes reached mine and he broke into a wide smile. "Looks like a perfect fit."
I huffed and scooped up the box of earrings to give to him.
"This was in between the clothes."
"I know," he smiled at me.
I raised an eyebrow, "You know?"
He nodded and opened the box carefully without taking it from my hands.
"I thought you could make them look good –" he picked one of them up and held it in front of my ear.
"- and I was right," He beamed.
I frowned. "I don't – why? Isn't this basically stealing? The clothes, and the boots I get, but your mothers jewellery? I think that's where I draw the line."
"That's because you're boring. A little theft never hurt anyone."
I pushed the box towards him, but he wouldn't take it, even if he stepped closer.
"They aren't my mum's." He smiled at me, "They used to be, but she gave them to me to do with them as I liked, and this is what I'd like to do with them; I'd like to give them to you."
I scoffed.
"Please?" He requested.
"I – but they're not really me, are they?" I looked down at the one that remained in the box.
"I beg to differ. I think they might have been made exactly for you." He took a small step closer.
I frowned and let a finger run down one of the small chains "But they're so beautiful and I'd probably just lose them or something."
"You totally would,"
"I don't think you'd lose them. Other than that, I'd say it sounds like they would suit you perfectly."
I looked up and caught his eye.
When had he gotten so close?
"I –"
"Please," he whispered, but I didn't know what he was asking for anymore. I don't think it was the earrings.
"How about please don't"
His arm went around my waist and I heard the earring fall to the floor behind me.
He was staring at my lips. "Please," he repeated, and my eyes dropped to his mouth.
I felt his warm hand at the back of my neck, as he pulled me closer.
When his lips touched mine, my eyes fluttered shut and my breathing hitched. Something exploded, somewhere near my diaphragm and I dropped the box.
I couldn't hear the skull anymore though I doubted he was silent. I could only feel, and it felt as if my entire being was compressed into a small ball of something I couldn't quite describe, somewhere in my ribcage and it was radiating out towards Quill. My heart was pounding harder than it had probably ever done.
I felt his tongue against my lower lip and I shivered as I slowly opened my mouth to let him in.
One of my hands found its own way into the hair on the back of his head and he made a small gasp when I pulled it a little.
He caught my lower lip between his teeth and I accidentally let out a small moan. My cheeks were burning and even though my eyes were closed, I could feel him smiling against my lips.
I regretfully put my hands on his shoulders and broke the kiss.
"I can't do this." I whispered.
"Why?"
I squeezed my eyes together and cursed internally a thousand times. "I promised Lockwood."
Quill leaned back a little and I opened my eyes to find him frowning. He looked so hurt and it was killing me
"Why didn't you tell me you were together? I wouldn't have–"
I shook my head and leaned my forehead against his with a bump. "It's not like that. We're not together. It's because you two are idiots."
He let out a small unstable chuckle. "That's nothing new."
I smiled. "I suppose it isn't, but most importantly, I'm so confused." I squeezed my eyes closed. "I don't know what's up or down and you two aren't making it any easier on me, so I'm just not going to be with either of you. Besides, you boys need to find each other again. To mend whatever is between you. And I'm just getting in the way of that."
He opened his mouth to protest, but I covered it with my hand, causing him to go cross-eyed when he looked at it.
"I couldn't live with myself if I was the reason, the two of you couldn't get along." I looked into his green eyes, willing him to understand.
He took my hand from his mouth. "I'm not ready to give up on this." He told me seriously.
I swallowed. "Just… You're the only family he has left."
He scoffed "We're not –"
"You are," I cut him off. "Fix it. That has to be the main priority."
He gave me a soft kiss on the lips and then a lingering one on the forehead.
He sighed in defeat. "I'll try. He is family," another sigh, "Now, will you please wear those damn earrings?" he grumbled.
I snorted. "Fine."
He knelt down and picked up the earrings and the box and pushed them into my hands.
"They're raw emeralds," he told me with a soft smile, "That's one of the reasons they reminded me of you. I like gemstones cut and polished as much as the next person,"
I snorted, thinking about his collection of jewelled rapiers which were probably all gone by now.
"But look at how beautiful they are," he continued in a whisper. "That rawness makes them that much more special and enchanting."
The way he looked at me, made me blush and a swarm of butterflies surged through my stomach again.
I struggled hard with myself not to kiss him again. I viciously beat that desire into submission.
A decision had been made and I wasn't about to go all weak just because he gave me some incredibly beautiful earrings that he said reminded him of me and happened to be the exact colour of his eyes.
I swallowed hard. "So, are when are we leaving?"
"Now seems like a good time." He gave me a small smile and squeezed my hand.
We tidied up quickly and I stuffed my still wet clothes into my bag, much to the skull's displeasure.
It made a snorting sound.
"It's official; you really are an idiot."
I sneered at it and closed the flap on the bag.
Then we were off into the night.
…
Happy New Year!
Certainly, a different one than usual.
I hope you all made it through the night with your usual limbs still attached and that all our wishes for the next year will come true. Unless you have some messed up wishes like another plague. (I'm looking at you, Satan)
I hope you enjoyed the chapter. George and Holly will soon be making a return. I've missed them.
Please leave a review and let me know what you thought of the chapter 3
