A/N: hope you enjoy!

Lockwood had forgotten about buying any oversized sleep shirts. Lucy had taken to stealing his joggers from time to time, and those shirts had ended up shoved into the back of one of his drawers, buried under the usual ones he wore that got washed frequently enough that he never got to the bottom of the neatly folded piles. That was, until a case gone wrong ended with his arm bandaged and a larger shirt had felt necessary to prevent unnecessary movement when he remembered he had them.

Lockwood would, of course, have pushed past any pain to put on one of his dress shirts (Holly and Lucy both insisted they were too small, he disagreed, and in private moments, Lucy did too) if they had a client, or if he had any reason to go outside. Despite being expressly forbidden from doing basically anything.

But at least it made for the perfect reason to wear the shirt. No one would say anything about how it hung larger on his slim frame, and maybe he'd get to see Lucy in it one day as she did so casually with his joggers now. When she stopped being mad at him, that was. Small victories.

What was not perfect, was having his arm be so thoroughly useless. With business booming, their schedule neatly planned out, and Holly being comfortable enough to go on cases while he healed, Lockwood was on strict bed rest and desk duty until he healed. He was fairly certain she'd even moved a client meeting so that he wouldn't be able to attend, though he also reckoned Lucy and George were more to blame for that than Holly.

It was awful, and not at all helped by his girlfriend's harsh glares, even when she climbed into bed with him.

Had he hurt himself doing something that, looking back, could be deemed unnecessary even if, in the moment, it had felt like the only option? Yes. Could it have cost a lot more than just a badly injured arm? Lockwood really didn't think so, but his opinion on the matter had been overruled.

"It feels practically good as new today," Lockwood assured Holly as she rewrapped his bandages.

He didn't think she needed to, the doctors had said he only needed to keep the stitches covered for two days, and today marked day three. He'd said as much, but Holly had responded simply that the severity of the injury meant she would take the extra precaution. He suspected she just wanted to keep his arm as immobile as possible until they were all taken out.

"I'd be more likely to believe that if you didn't wince every time I moved your arm," she replied easily, lips pressed in a thin line.

His grin dimmed just a little. "Surely I can at least get back to some light rapier practice today," he politely argued.

He could hear Lucy working at it downstairs, her voice and the wooshing of her sword just barely filtering through into the kitchen from the cracked door to the basement. He desperately wanted to join her, but knew she'd just be newly annoyed at him if he didn't get an okay from Holly.

"If you can do it without moving your left arm." She began putting away the gauze.

His smile instantly brightened again. "Sounds like a great challenge." He stood, fighting the urge to roll his shoulders back and stretch his arm out against the new bandages lest he pull any of the stitches (again).

He ignored her fading call that she didn't think he'd actually try as he bounded down the stairs.

He smiled at Lucy when she looked his way, hearing him coming down. She just blew her fringe up, out of her eyes and went back to training. Lockwood let himself watch her a bit longer before moving to get his rapier and join her at stabbing Esmeralda and Joe.

"What do you think you're doing?" The sound of her sword slashing through the air stopped abruptly as he grabbed his rapier.

"I was going to join-"

"No."

"I just thought-"

"No."

"But Holly said-"

"I don't bloody care what Holly said! I'm saying no."

"I'm fine Luce, really." he tried to assure, making a concerted effort to not move his arm so he didn't wince.

"Well, you almost weren't." He was just able to pick up the shake in her voice. Her grip tightened around the hilt of her sword. Her knuckles were turning white.

He dropped his sword back into place in the rack and took a step closer to her. While training would have been nice, this was the real reason he had wanted to come down and join her. Getting Lucy to finally talk about what happened. He'd apologized as soon as he was up again, and she'd just shaken her head and clung to him until she had to be pried off so he could get fixed up. Whatever worry had filled her then had been turned into a seething anger that was taking longer to break than usual, and it worried Lockwood. They'd have to hash this out eventually, and he'd learned his lesson on letting things fester, so he'd much prefer sooner rather than later.

"But I am." He reached to take her free hand, not thinking about it as he moved his injured arm and winced.

Her shoulders tensed, he internally cringed.

"It's been three days, Lockwood. You're on bed rest until the stitches come out, at least." She made to turn and go back to her training.

He frowned. "Don't be ridiculous I -" But he knew immediately, he'd messed up.

Lucy whipped her head around, eyes blazing. "Ridiculous? I thought you were going to bleed out at my feet! If you had just listened to me and waited- but nooo you just had to rush on ahead, assuming your way was the best and let us see you… I thought you were going to die! So excuse me for wanting to stop you from being a stubborn idiot now and bleeding out in our goddamn basement! You absolute prick!"

She had stepped closer to him as she shouted, leaning in close, angry puffs of breath making his eyelids flutter. If Lockwood were a lesser man, he would have since backed away, taken steps to further himself from her onslaught. He suspected Lucy would've started jabbing his chest with her finger if not for the bandages wrapped down the length of his arm.

The guilt building in his chest almost choked him. He wasn't quite sure what to say to that. The case shouldn't have ended as poorly as it had. The ghost had been aggressive, but nothing unusual. They'd even located the source easily enough in the mostly open space of the house under construction. It was getting to it that had proved to be an issue.

They'd dealt with dilapidated buildings in the past. The loose floorboards and corded-off spot from the owners' disrupted renovations should have been easy enough to avoid, but of course, that's where the epicentre of the haunting was. The source was on the floor below where this ghost liked to manifest. After one particularly well-thrown salt bomb, they'd watched the phantasm retreat back into one of the cardboard boxes neatly stored underneath them. Easy enough.

Before they could do anything though, just as quickly as it had gone, the ghost was back out again and rushing toward them, sending them all hurrying back away from the edge of the open floor. As ghosts often seemed to, this one made a beeline for Lucy, and as she was prone to do, she tried talking to it.

Lockwood was getting used to it, he really was, or was trying at least. But there was no chain, and he and George were both too far from her if something went wrong because of how they'd all backed away when it had emerged again. So, despite Lucy's calm demeanour and the little shake of her head toward him when she, probably, realised what he was thinking of doing. He jumped down the hole to the floor below.

All in days work, really. It shouldn't have been a problem. Except, he'd had to swing to avoid the equipment laid out just below where he'd naturally land, and when he'd grabbed onto the floor/ceiling, his arm had caught an exposed nail that, because of the force of his momentum, managed to scratch down the length of his arm, armpit to wrist, enough to need more than several stitches, later. In the moment though, he'd ignored the searing pain and covered the cardboard box the source was in, in one quick sweep. After the oppressive malaise dissipated and he saw Lucy and George's familiar forms making their way down the stairs toward him, Lockwood collapsed into a heap. And, well, the rest didn't matter except to say he was fine. And it would have been a perfectly acceptable thing to do if not for that one stupid nail.

He supposed seeing him covered in blood, unmoving on the ground wouldn't have been a pleasant sight for anyone, but they'd all been through much worse, even if it had been a while since anything quite so dire-looking had happened. But he was okay now, with just about one hundred stitches and forced to not use his left arm. Though, the latter was proving more difficult, especially now as Lucy took another step toward him, and he itched to grab her and circle her in his arms. Somehow make her feel okay. He wished he could promise he'd always be here, that he'd always be alright, that they'd always come out on top as long as they were all together. But they worked in a dangerous field, and Lockwood didn't want to make a promise he couldn't keep, so he could only work in the now.

Lucy's chest heaved from the training and the yelling, and she let out another angry breath then took a small step backwards. "I'm sure there's some paperwork you can find to do. Just rest," she muttered and turned her head, wiping at her eyes.

Something cold leached at his chest. Something always did when Lucy was upset. Especially because of him.

"I'm sorry," he said, not really believing it would be enough. She turned her head back so she was staring at his chest, he took that as a small win. "I knew the area had construction, I should have checked for a ladder or something first, I just-" He reached for her wrist now, his right hand sliding down to hold her free one. "It was getting so close to you, and I wasn't close enough to stab at it, I had to do something."

"Sometimes," Lucy began, still angry but with much less bite than before, "the thing you have to do is trust me and my judgment." A pause. "Also George's."

He huffed a laugh, it felt watery. "Also George's." Lockwood swallowed. "Knowing that doesn't make it easier to do."

She did poke him then, lightly. Then, she flattened her palm against his chest, over his heart, feeling it beat, he realized. She looked up, her gaze uncovering his entire being. "Just promise me you'll keep trying."

It was a monumental effort on his part not to move his left arm to hold her to him. Instead, he squeezed her hand and ducked his head to capture her lips. He could taste salt, probably a mix of sweat and tears, his heart twisted. She pulled back far too soon.

He let out a long sigh, the room was quiet. Lockwood only spoke again when he thought he finally might have gathered the right words. "I can't promise I'll ever do nothing when I see you in danger. But, I can promise to try to make more sensible decisions and to be better at listening to you."

He'd been reading the relationship columns in his magazines more frequently, and he thought it might be paying off by the way Lucy relaxed further.

"I suppose that's really the best I can expect," she mumbled.

He smiled at her, she smiled back. Then, she rolled up on her toes and pressed her lips to his, a soft innocent ferocity to it. Her hand stayed flat against his chest, where she could feel his heartbeat beneath it. Her other hand travelled to hold the back of his head. His now free hand wrapped around her, splaying against the small of her back, he kissed her again. She pressed her lips to his like he was a lifeline. He kissed her like she was the last bit of air in the room, in the house, in the world.

Without breaking apart he took to step back, then another, his fingers splayed across her back, keeping her close, making sure she was able to follow him as long as she wanted. He took another step until his back hit a desk, and he steadied them against it.

Lucy pulled away, a small noise of protest almost left Lockwood's throat but then she was trailing kisses along his jawline and it turned into a groan instead. She pressed a lingering kiss under his jaw, at the place his pulse thrummed strongest, and he felt something stutter and alight through him. Warmth replaced any lingering cold, then she started licking down his neck, following the path of the artery and he felt like he was on fire. Her grip on his hair tightened, a low groan escaped his lips, he unconsciously threw his head back allowing her more access.

Her hand on his chest moved up to pull down the collar of his shirt (another point to oversize clothing) she trailed kisses further down, starting to nip and suck when she reached areas his work shirts would cover. With a slight sound of the shirt stretching (he certainly didn't mind) she was able to pull the collar all the way down to expose where her palm had been only moments before. Her dull nails sent pleasant tingles through him as she dragged her fingers down, lips following.

Lockwood couldn't hold Lucy and touch her as much as he wanted due to trying not to move his arm and risk ruining this with a wince, but he shifted just enough that he could caress her thigh. With his good arm though, he ran up the length of her back and then down, grabbing her arse and pushing her closer against him. She breathed a puff of hot air against his chest and then, pleased with her work there captured his lips again.

He moaned in her mouth and slid his good hand further down squeezing the fat of her thigh, then following it back up under her skirt to get a better grip on her arse, still blocked from his bare hands by her tights. He had half a mind to rip the fabric, her annoyance afterwards be damned. Then she bit his lower lip, and he had no mind left. He squeezed and pulled her flush against himself, she moaned, her hips rocked against his, just as needy.

A loud shout of "Oh god!" broke them both apart quickly. Lockwood kept Lucy against him, stopping her from jumping away and inadvertently revealing a problem of his that had quite literally popped up.

"I was told to fetch you for lunch and a case briefing for tonight," Kipps said from the stairs.

Lucy was redder than Lockwood had ever seen her and doubted he was much better, but he cleared his throat and spoke first.

"Right, we'll be up in a minute."

"Sure you will." They heard Kipps hurry back up the stairs.

They looked back at one another, eyes wide, before slow smiles broke out across their faces and then they were all out laughing. Lockwood slid his hand up to hold her upper back and she rested her forehead against his chest. He could feel her laughing against him and it only made him all the more giddy. She looked up and wiped at her eyes.

"We should go before they get suspicious," she said at last.

"Right. You go ahead, I'll be a minute."

He watched as her confusion morphed into understanding as she took a step back and flushed, his grin widening. His own embarrassment tamped out by Lucy getting so flustered. She fixed her hair and clothes as best she could as she made to go upstairs.

"If I hear anything that even sounds like a rapier moving," she warned over her shoulder as she stepped onto the first stair. "I will chain you to the bed."

He couldn't help himself. "Don't threaten me with a good time, Luce."

"I'm serious, Lockwood." She glared.

He raised his hands, well hand, in defeat. "I just need a minute."

The pink hadn't left her cheeks, she turned, hair swishing over her shoulder with the motion, and walked up the stairs. Watching her ascend didn't help his problem as he adjusted himself as best he could.

A/N: thank you so much for reading! 3 let me know what you think 3 (should i change the rating?)