A/N- I'm a new fan to the Lockwood and Co fandom, and that last line in TEG absolutely KILLED me. So I decided to write a series of Locklyle one-shots, to heal my poor broken unsatisfied heart.This one takes place somewhere between TCS and TEG. Enjoy!:)

Lucy Carlyle was having a really hard time not falling in love with Anthony Lockwood.

It wasn't his good looks that did her in, (though they certainly were an added bonus). She pretended not to notice her heart do backflips everytime a lock of his dark hair would fall into his eyes, or the way he'd flash his special smile at her, successfully making her forget all logic. Or the way he threw back his head and laughed at something George said/did, making her wish she could bottle the sound and listen to it whenever she wanted.

It wasn't even because of the suave, confident disposition that was his leadership. Or the quiet, calm way he inspired his team's confidence and gave them the strength to believe in themselves. Or the way he'd congratulate everyone individually on a job well done after a case was closed. His charm, his witty remarks, his charismatic smile were all trademarks of just him being Lockwood and were all enough on their own to give her butterflies.

But they weren't the reason why she was having a hard time preventing him from living rent-free in her head.

No. That was because of a very simple reason:-

Lockwood saw her as a person first and an agent second.

Ever since she was a little girl, her abilities as an agent had always been given top priority. Especially by her family. According to her mother, Lucy's primary existence revolved around solving the best cases, bringing in lots of money and generally being the best agent there ever was.

Even at the cost of her own safety.

It's not that she had ever resented her Talent, (she wouldn't know who she was without it) but sometimes she really wished her mother would try to have a conversation with Lucy Carlyle her daughter, rather than Lucy Carlyle, the agent. Her sisters weren't so bad, but there was such a wide chasm between her and them, that it seemed impossible and completely useless to try and cross it. Packing her bags and coming to London, had probably been the best decision she'd ever made. Here, she found a family.

And Lockwood.

She scowled. It was eleven thirty in the morning, (early by her standards) and she just couldn't get him out of her head. For crying out loud, the day had only just begun!

"Something wrong, Luce?" asked Lockwood, peering over the top of his newspaper. They were sitting at the breakfast table, rested from a night's sleep after a particularly gruelling case. George, was scribbling something in his research notes, and inhaling one jelly doughnut after the other, Holly was looking at him with mild disdain, as she daintily sipped her cup of tea.

And Lockwood?

Ah, Lockwood. Well, he was looking right at her.

"Luce?" He asked, his eyes probing, "Are you okay?"

Belatedly, Lucy realized Lockwood had asked her a question. Flushing bright red, she gulped down her scalding hot tea.

"Just fine." she said, sneaking a glance at Holly and George, to see if they were paying attention to the conversation. (They weren't. Holly was delicately broaching the topic of civilized eating with George, who was clearly not listening to a word she was saying.)

Lockwood raised his eyebrows. "Is that why you're scowling at your breakfast?"

She flushed a deep, beet root red. Ah. So he had caught that.

"Oh, just thinking about things." she said flippantly. Getting out of here would probably be a good idea. She could never think logically when Lockwood was shooting her one of his 'searching' looks.

She grabbed her plate and cup, rinsed them in the sink and all but dashed out of the kitchen, all while feeling the intensity of Lockwood's gaze on her.

The warm afternoon sunshine was making her sleepy. She was sitting out in the garden, drawing soft, languid strokes across her sketchbook. First came the strong, defined jawline, the angular cheekbones, the megawatt smile, tousled hair, there was no mistake:- she was drawing Lockwood.

"Is that supposed to be me?" asked a voice behind her.

She jumped a foot in the air, and whirled around. Lockwood was standing there, no tie, shirt sleeves rolled up, looking more relaxed than she'd ever seen him.

"Yes," she said, suddenly remembering that he'd asked her a question.

"It's really good." He smiled at her, soft, slow and hesitant, the one he reserved just for her. "You're really good, Luce."

She flushed as red as a tomato at his praise. (Was she doomed to forever resembling a tomato when he was around?)

"If it's okay with you," (he rubbed the back of his neck) "I would-" (now he was messing with his hair) "-really love to see more of your sketches."

Oh.

It's not that she didn't want to show him. She did! He was the first person she would have shown all her work to if...he weren't the centre of nearly every artwork she'd done.

She opened her mouth, prepared to decline and make up some excuse which he'd never believe, when suddenly-

"Yes."

Had she actually said that? No, she hadn't. The wind was messing with her hearing.

Except, there was no wind.

Which meant...she'd just agreed to letting Lockwood see her sketches.

Lockwood on the other hand, seemed unaware of the inner turmoil in Lucy's head, because he was already stretching out a long quick fingered hand for her sketchbook-

-and wordlessly, Lucy seemed to be handing it to him.

She watched him flip through the pages, and felt something akin to a very strong and intense feeling blooming in her chest. What that feeling was she had no idea. Well, she had some idea but she was trying not to think about that. All she knew was she felt extreme happiness when he was around, felt joy when he noticed little things about her and felt pleasantly surprised when he wanted to know more about her, the person rather than her agent persona. She felt special when he chose to confide in her, and while their experience on The Other Side had severely scarred them, she wouldn't change a thing about it. It had forged an irrefutable bond between them which she'd rather kiss a Raw-bones than break.

Love.

The unfamiliarity of the word struck her as odd, since the person who it was associated with felt like home.

She was incomparably, irrevevocably, completely and utterly in love with him.

The realization wasn't as jarring as she thought it would be. Instead, it brought with it a sense of peace, a sense of belonging and a feeling of familiarity.

Like coming home after a long day of work. She felt at ease, as if everything was just right.

As she looked at him, still thumbing through the pages of her sketchbook, she was still having a hard time not falling in love with him. But she found she didn't care. She was tired of ignoring her feelings and keeping them locked up in a box. She knew he felt something towards her, and was going to wait however long it took, to make him realize that she was going nowhere.

She looked at him and smiled:- I am going to allow myself to fall head over heels in love with Anthony Lockwood.

A/N- Hope you liked it! Review and like if you did:)