AN EXTRA PAIR OF HANDSโโโโโโโ
SYNOPSIS: you're in need of a job, and your rival is in need of another agent for a case
THEMES: slowburn, rivals to lovers | REQUESTED BY: @that-choir-girl | WARNINGS: none
NOTES: first of all, my apologies for being so incredibly slow with updates, I rarely write much anymore. although i had pre-written much of this series, i re-read it all and honestly have no idea how i ever thought that was good enough to post-so here is an updated version that is hopefully much better. i'm aware a lot of people did enjoy the previously posted parts of this season, and so i'll still leave those available at the bottom of my masterlist if anybody does want to read them
speaking of, here is my updated masterlist! || leave a comment below to join my taglist. my taglist should be at the very bottom of this post, you can check if you've already joined there. i can't find the copy of my taglist I had in my drafts, so these are just whichever ones I found in comments on my posts. please comment to join or leave the list. requests are currently closed but you're more than welcome to leave any in my inbox, though i can't guarantee they'll be done anytime soon :(
My work is not to be reposted, copied, translated or used in any form without explicit permission from myself.
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For years, Iโve made a conscious effort to avoid Lockwood and Co.
Healthy competition is practically non-existent around here. Fittes drill that into you from day one. At the very beginning, Lockwood and Co. hadnโt been the kind of agency that anyone would look at twice: lacking funding, fame and supervisors. In my final few months at Fittes, however, theyโd somehow managed to work their way up into notable circles, appearing in papers and parties Iโd have never associated them with. Soon, they were taking jobs from some of the biggest names in London.
In return (though Penelope Fittes may have feigned smiles publicly), tension had skyrocketed at Fittes to the point of eruption. We were thrown into case after case in hopes that the tales of Anthony Lockwood would be displaced from the morning papers. My team had been massively overworked by superiors as it was, so when push came to shove, my tongue slipped.ย
To cut the story short, after some back and forth, they sent me packing.ย
Since then, as though flaunting his role in my dismissal, Anthony Lockwoodโs face has been plastered on the front of the Times atleast once a week. Some days, he was posing for photos with pleased clients, and on others, he was standing aside, deep in staged discussion with his team following a catastrophic case. A disgrace, Fittes would say, but any publicity was good publicity to Anthony Lockwoodโeverybody in the game knew that.
I, however, had no such thing going on. Not a single response from any applications, from any other agency around. Iโd even applied to places outside of London, in my desperation, but it was futile. No agency wanted an agent unfamiliar with their local area. And no โprestigeousโ agency wanted anything to do with an agent laid off from Fittes for running their mouth. Word spreads quickly between rich people, apparently.
My mum, waving an article in my face one Sunday, had brightly suggested โthe ones who set that house on fireโ โa very specific description, yes. One that clients should have found to be a push factor if they had even an ounce of intelligence. But no, somehow they were finding case after case.
Again, any publicity was good publicity as long as it got your name out there, right?
Though I told anyone who asked that I was a freelancer, that was probably an exaggeration. Yes, I had no ties to any companies, but running around beside scrawny little nightwatch kids was hardly a job. Paid little to nothing.ย
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It was quiet, for once, that afternoon. The cafe had emptied out, save for the odd elderly lady nursing a warm cup of tea, clicking spoons and talking gently. Waiters were beginning to tidy away, wiping down surfaces, sweeping beneath free tables as they hummed.
I crossed off yet another name from my list of potential workplaces, crumpling up their response letter in my other hand in agitation. Some rubbish about concern over whether Iโd been laid off for losing talent.ย
โForgot to bring you sugar!โ
With a start, I sat up, snapping my notebook shut.ย
One of the younger employees stood some steps away, a little chinapot of sugar held out in one hand, and a spoon in the other. Iโd seen him a fair few times now, easily distinguishable from the row of freckles that bridged across his nose, and the striking contrast of his dark hair from his pale, blue eyes.ย
โSorry,โ he grinned apologetically, placing the pot down on the table with a light thud. โIโd have expected an agent to be less easily spooked.โ
I forced out something between a chuckle and a cough. His lips twitched as though the sound was amusing.ย
โHowโd you know Iโm an agent?โ I asked, a stab in the dark attempt at keeping him in conversation.ย
The boy laughed again, this time smoothing back the little apron and glancing toward the counter of the cafe, which was empty. He dropped into the chair across from me, and suddenly I could feel a pulse in my ears.
โYou normally pop in quite late. Iโm sure you did once with a rapier, too.โย
He seemed to realise how that made him sound, and paused to scratch at his neck awkwardly. โNot that I watched, or anything, that-thatโs creepy. Iโm not a creep-I justโโ he rose from the seat, shaking his head, โiโm so sorryโฆโ
โNo!โ I exclaimed, far too quickly for my mind to process.
His brows furrowed slightly as he hovered mid-air, head tilting just a fraction to the right. Could he hear my heart beating so fast?
โNo, sorry, I mean, I get it.โ I assured him, face burning and certainly red. โIโm quite observant, I justโI do that sometimes too.โ
He smiled warmly, gradually sitting back down. His eyes wandered around the table for a moment as though scouraging for a topic of conversation, tea and sugar forgotten. โSo, er, where do you work? Fittes? Rottwell?โ
โI worked for Fittes,โ I replied, feeling something tighten in the pit of my stomach. โLeft a while back.โ
โOh, really?โ He tilted his head again. โIโve heard itโs supposed to be the best. How come you left?โ
I pressed a hand down on my notebook, as if it would magically burst open and relay its contents out to him.ย
โI just wanted something new, harder.โ I lied with a nervous laugh. โGot bored of it.โย
He hummed, planting an elbow on the table and his chin upon his palm. โYou seem like youโre quite talented then. Where are you working now?โ
Nowhere. I got fired, and now nobody wants to employ me.ย
โRotwells, I imagine,โ he continued absently, โOr maybe Tendy&Sons? Theydoย all seem quite snobby to me though, their lot.โ He tilted his head yet again, and to me, he now resembled an odd bird of some kind. He looked straight past me, out of the window of the cafe. โNo, you donโt seem like that. The newer ones, maybeโฆ Lockwood and Co.?โ
โYeah,โ I lied through my teeth, a painful smile on my face. โLockwood and Co.โ
โNot very observant, then are you?โ he grinned, tapping his fingers on the table, and I frowned, a pang of sudden dread rising in my chest in confusion. โBecause I think your boss just walked in.โ
My head snapped towards the door. Boss?
A tall, dark haired boy stood by the counter, dusting off his abnormally long coat. His hair looked greasy, slicked back with an ugly concotion of gel, his nose in the air as usual he peered around, as though seeking someone.
His brown eyes passed over me and then did a double take. He stood taller.ย
Anthony Lockwood straightened his tie, and headed this way.ย
I cleared my throat, looking elsewhere as I waited for Lockwood to pass by so the conversation could continue without interruption, but it seemed he wasnโt here for a lone warm brew and cake; he paused by our table, hands in his pockets, and with a slight rock back and forth on the spot, he cleared his throat.
The boy across me rose politely, with another one of his never-ending smiles. โA funny colleague, youโve got, Mr. Lockwood.โ he chuckled. โIโll leave you to it.โย
I didnโt have to look at Lockwood to know his brows had knitted together as they always did. The boy, brushing his hands on his apron, turned to me momentarily as if weighing words. Whatever those words were, he decided against them, and went off instead to attend to an elderly man whoโd just smashed a plate.
โWhat the hell do you want?โ I demanded, scowling up at Lockwood, who followed the waiter with his gaze, a smirk playing at his lips. It went as quickly as it had come.
โJust need a quick word,โ he replied, monotonous, dropping into the free seat, drumming his fingers on the table.ย
โA word?โ I huffed, grabbing the spoon on the table far too vigorously, and dashing sugar into my certainly cold tea.
โItโs about a case,โ he replied, unfazed.ย
โIf this is Karim again, tell him I canโt get him whatever it is he wants from the Fittes library again.โ Another spoon of sugar. โIโm freelancing now.โ
Lockwood scoffed. โWeโre well aware, thank you. We need an extra pair of hands for a case.โ
My brows rose. โMy hands? Whyโs that?โ
โTheyโre not particularly attractive, believe me, so donโt get ahead of yourself. But we donโt have many options.โ He twisted the silver ring on his finger. โBarnes isnโt on the best terms with us right now.โย
โAnd you think I'll help you?โ I asked as tediously as I could manage, mixing in another sweet spoon just for something to do with my hands.
โFor double the usual rate, yes, I do. Thatโs far too much sugar, also, Iโm not sure how youโre still alive if you find that normal.โ He flicked something off his shoulder, before folding his arms on the table and rocking forwards. โYou like jumping on big cases donโt you? โHad a real knack for turning up whenever itโd look good for Fittes.โ
โIโm still not convinced.โ I lifted the cup to my lips and took a sip. A disgustingly sweet taste flooded my mouth and ran down my throat. Too much sugar indeed. Lockwood looked away, his tongue pushed against the wall of his cheek, clearly resisting a snigger. He gathered himself quickly.
โLike I said, double the usual rates. And if George is correct, an even more handsome sum once we can convince the owner of the estate to let us have a quick peek around the rest of the building. Itโs bound to have more visitors than we've been told about .โ He stared at me, waiting for a response. โWell?โ
But another question had risen in my mind.ย
โHowโd you know I was here?โ
He blinked, like that was besides the point. โKnocked at your door. The girl next door was in her garden, told me youโd gone for tea, and this is the only place around.โ
I stared at him, in astonishment. โHow do you even know where I live? Thatโs creepy.โ
โItโs not creepy to know who lives around here. I'm observant.โ He clapped his hands together. โNow, agree to join the case so I can leave you to your date.โ
How entitled could someone possibly sound?ย
โGet lost, Lockwood.โ
โStill a horrible person, arenโt you?โ he shot, with a look of annoyance. โDo a good deed, for once, how about?โ
โFor once?โ I hissed, pushing my chair back, much louder than intended. โYou donโt even know me, you insufferable little prick!โ
He smiled, leaning back as I rose up, shoving my belongings into my bag aggressively. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, eyes flitting from the table to me as I zipped the bag shut.ย
โNot having that tea then?โ
His brows knitted together.ย
I grasped the handle of the cup and tossed out its contents over his slicked hair.
For the head of a ghost-hunting agency, Lockwood did seem to have a slow reaction time. Tea flooded down his head as he spluttered, over his eyes, sinking down his neck and into the crisp white collar of his shirt. His mouth was agape like some trout, and for a second he looked unbelievably daft.
It took me a moment to process it. My hand still holding the cup mid air above him, the look of disbelief on his face as he looked up, and blinked slowly, wiping at his wet lashes with a pale hand. The cafe had fallen silent.ย
โWhat on earth are you two doing?โ cried a voice by the till. โWeโve just cleaned in here!โ
Lockwood stood abruptly, skidding slightly on the dampened floorboards, holding himself back upright by the table. He raised his hands apologetically as a middle-aged woman stormed over.ย
โOut!โ yelled the woman, nostrils flared in anger. โOut now!โ
I stole a glance around. The room was silent,all eyes upon us, and there by the row of window seats stood the boy from earlier, an unreadable look upon his face. The bell above the door sounded as the lady ushered the two of us outside wielding a mop in a firm-looking fist. The door slammed shut behind us. Silence.ย
I looked away, praying the cold air would erase the heat in my face.
โRuined my coat too,โ he scowled, gripping his upper sleeve to eye the damage.ย
โItโs as hideous as you are.โ I told him, pulling my bag tighter against the chilly breeze and turning away to walk home.ย
There was a patter of feet behind me, and a sideways glance told me he jogged very briefly to keep up.ย
โLook, just help us on this one and Iโll leave you be for life. Two times your usual rate!โ He paused poiintedly, but there was no response. โFine. Three times it then, but thatโs the very best I can do.โ
I bit my lip in consideration. I needed a way back into the businessโperhaps this was it. Even better if this case made it into the papers too. Perhaps I could get him to mention me to the media.
โWhatโs the case?โ I asked, with a sigh.
He grinned triumphantly.ย
โSimple one,โ he began, standing taller, eyes twinkling. โWealthy client, huge house, loads of cash.โย
โAnd dangerous, I imagine.โ I finished for him.ย
His mouth opened and closed. โYes, but thatโs hardly an issue. The client clearly said he wanted us to bring additional support to avoid any problems.โ He smiled. โHe didnโt specify how many, so technically, weโre doing as he asked. And according to George, three people is a suicide mission, but thatโs just him being overly cautious.โ
I bit back a smile. โSo youโre taking me along to kill me too?โ
He tutted. โSo negative. I just thought you were good at your job.โ He paused, and grimaced as though heโd betrayed himself with that statement. โIโll write up the contract and get it to you.โ
Lockwood reached deep into his pocket, face scrunched in concentration.ย
โHad a business card,โ he muttered, now turning his trouser pockets inside-out. โHold on.โ
He searched endlessly, shaking out his coat, humming gently.ย
โJust give me the number,โ I told him, reaching for the notebook in my bag.ย
He froze, eyes widening just a fraction, hardly noticeable.
โDonโt tell me you donโt know the telephone number for your own company.โ
โFine,โ I sighed, fishing out the black pen in my bag. โWrite mine, then.โ
I held it out, and he extended a pale, stained hand to take it. I squinted in disgust, pulling my pen back. โIs that tea?โ
โYou threw it on me,โ he grumbled, pulling back a sleeve slightly and extending the back of his hand. โWrite it down. Pleaseโ
I clicked my tongue, taking his hand as loosely as possible, scribbling down my number quick enough to make it illegible. I crossed it out, and began again. Once it was done,I let go immediately, and he stepped back, clearing his throat.ย
I nodded. I debated a farewell, for a moment but he had already turned and crossed the road, his coat billowing in the wind behind him.ย
I hadnโt even managed to get that boyโs name at the cafe.
Anthony Lockwood was terribly talented at ruining perfectly good days.ย
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โWhyโs there a number written on your hand?โ
It was one of those rare nights where the house was quiet, bar the distant rumble of traffic from the main roads, or the buzz of the kettle every so often in the kitchen. The living room was littered with papers, books, and an array of absurdly coloursful pens, some laid out across the rug, and others strewn on the sofas, miles from their caps. Lockwood sat closest to the door, sifting through a pile of never-ending forms that had gathered recently, with rising demand for Lockwood and Co. In twin armchairs sat Lucy and George, each digging through works of their own.
It had been a long few days, filled with endless research and trips to the archives in search of any hints on their latest caseโa huge home in the countryside with a disturbing history in far too many ways for this to be an easy win. Theyโd been recommended to the owner through a mutual friend with pockets deeper than words could describe, and so Lockwood was more than determined to prove the agency deserved the name it had racked up lately.
The question had sounded so absurd at first Lockwood hadnโt even acknowledged it. He continued, tapping his socked foot rhythmically against the floorboards as he signed the corner of a form.ย
Lucyโs brows were raised, her hand paused mid-motion as she reached for something across the battered brown coffee table. Georgeโs dark eyes were narrowed, his face unreadable.
โThe number,โ repeated Lucy, and her lips tugged upwards slightly. โOn your hand.โ
Lockwood paused, and suddenly the collar of his shirt was painfully tight. He looked down at the pen tattooed on the back of his hand, as wel as the scribbled first attempt. He forced his brows up, feigning mild surprise, in a desperate attempt to mask the embarrassment he just knew was visible on his face.
โOh, nothing,โ he told them far too quickly; it came out as a weird sort of croak. โItโs for a case.โ
โFor a case?โ repeated Lucy with an air of incredulity.
โFor a case, yes.โ He tugged at his tie, loosening it in a bid to ease the suffocating feeling that had wrapped a hand around his windpipe. โWould you pass me that jug and cup off the side, George?โ
George wasnโt so easily distracted. He shuffled in his seat, crossing a leg over the other.ย
โFor a caseโฆas in a clientโs number? On your hand?โ He glanced in Lucyโs direction, as if searching for some sort of support from her. โThat isnโt hugely appropriate, Lockwoodโyou do know we have an entire book to store these things?โ
Lucy snickered. Lockwoodโs lips pursed, gaze falling as he shook his head with a tut, spinning the pen between his fingers as nonchalantly as he could manage. โItโs nothing like that.โ
Lucy exhaled loudly, sitting back in her chair too with a teasing smile. โIt must be private, George. Let him be.โ
Lockwood tutted. โItโs notโโ
โYouโre right, Lucy,โ agreed George, with an upward tug of his lips. โI wouldnโt want to pry.โ
โIโve just told you itโs nothing like that!โ exclaimed Lockwood with an air of outrage. โInfactโโ
He paused, mouth closing. Was this worth explaining? Heโd interrupted a date, been doused in tea, kicked out of a cafe and then held out his hand for the phone number of a girl already liked to insinuate he liked. This would only add fuel to the fire they liked to start every other day.
โInfact what?โ asked Lucy, her brow raised.
Lockwood sighed. โNothing.โ
Now felt like an appropriate time for tea.
Heโd barely shut the living room door and crossed the hallway when he heard a fit of giggles from Lucy inside, and a muffled response from Geroge. Lockwood huffed, rubbing at his temples in exasperation when his gaze fell upon the phone sitting on in the hallway. He flipped his hand and looked down at the phone number again.
Was this really necessary? Was he just embarrassing himself, asking her for a hand, when his team could probably more than manage on their own?
But their client had been clearโsufficient numbers.ย
Four people sounded better than three, right?
Besides, Lucy had been the one to bring up her name. This was her idea. Not his own. He was doing what she had suggested, like any good leader would do. Even if Lucy hadnโt actually expected him to follow through.
Yet he was the one who was going to make all the phone calls. How desperate, how pathetic he must look, going to the most jarring girl he had ever had the displeasure of meeting. Was she sitting somewhere right now, smug, ready and waiting to ruin his case when presented with the opportunity? It disgusted him to think of it, to know heโd have to endure that judging, distasteful nose in the air, that quick mouth that jumped on his every fault.
It was the worldโs way, perhaps, of getting back at him after heโd laughed, practically celebrated, her sacking from Fittes. He had invited around anyone he knew, anyone willing to comeโeven Arif had popped in for a whileโ filled with a sudden sense of festivity, and he knew exactly why. Drinks, food, heโd planned it all over a number of hours. Her sacking was a symbol of success, proof that even the biggest agencies were beginning to see him work his way up.
Yet here he was. Lingering by the phone in the hallway, debating how desperately he did need the money, the case, the name. It wasnโt even a question, and he knew it. Lockwood reached for the phone, and began to dial shakily the numbers on the back of his hand.
He raised the phone hesitantly to his right ear, his heart drumming a fast beat similar to the ringing of the phone line. Every moment of waiting only seemed to trigger his thoughts more and more.
Why on earth was she taking so long to pick up? It felt like the phone had been ringing for a lifetime! A surge of outrage shot through him; had she given him a fake number? Had he been made a joke of?
Oh, he was going to kill the girl.
โHello?โ sang a voice in his ear.
Nevermind, he wasnโt going to kill her yet. Perhaps after the case itself, heโd have a fleeting chance to grab her, shove her down a set of stairs and bolt. Or maybe he wouldnโt need toโ maybe sheโd rusted over the months working as a freelancer. The thought spread a grin across his face.
โHello?โ The voice repeated again, time with an air of slight impatience. Typical. Lockwood cleared his throat. โItโs Anthony Lockwoodโฆof Lockwood and Co.โ
Oh God. He slapped a hand to his forehead, his eyes clenched shut, and there was an awkward silence on the other end. When it didnโt cease, Lockwood cleared his throat, recollecting himself. โYouโre still up for the case I asked you about?โ
There was a pause. โYes.โ Her voice had lost all the initial emotion, suddenly void of any feeling, monotonous.
Lockwood hummed in response. โWell then, two days time. Mapelwood Manor, just off Kent.โ He waited for a response, but it didnโt come. โBe there by curfew. Donโt make us late.โ
She scoffed sharply. โYouโve got nerve. Donโt set the place alight before I get there.โ
It was Lockwoodโs turn to feel disrespected.
โYou know, L/n, youโโ
Lockwood paused, cut off by a muffled, distant voice in the background. The voice was slightly louder this time, indistinguishable but certainly calling her name.
โIf thatโs all?โ She spoke again, with an air of hurriedness.
โYes.โ Lockwood lowered the phone slightly, debating how to end the call. A farewell?
But the buzz told him she had already put down the phone.
Lockwood jumped at the sudden voice of Lucy. He turned, and there she stood by the door of the living room , leaning against the frame in a way that suggested sheโd had time to make herself comfortable. Lockwood scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.ย โI did, yeah. Sheโs, erโโ he tried to manage a casual smile โSheโs coming with us to Mapelwood.โ
Suddenly, his face was burning again. He headed into the kitchen for that cup of tea, but the footsteps behind him said she was close in pursuit.
โWhat?โ Lucy asked, incredulous. โHow?โ
Lockwood didnโt reply, turning away to fill the kettleโor to hide his face.
โYou asked her to come?โ
โDidnโt really have much of a choice, Luce.โ He said, jaw tight. โAnd besides, youโre the one who told me to do it.โ
โTold you?โ He could practically hear her grinning. โI didnโt tell you to do anything, Lockwood, I mentioned her name in passing.โ
Lockwood leaned back with a sharp exhale, recognising the look on her face. โDonโt evenโโ
โYouโve been telling us for years that you hate this girlโฆโ She smirked. โYet youโve gone and asked her to join our case.โ
โDonโt make it weird,โ he warned, brows raised. โWeโve got no one else, and we need the cash.โ
Lucy raised her hands in mock innocence. โOf course. Nothing more.โ
โLucy Carlyle.โ Lockwood straightened up, meeting her gaze seriously. โThis is one case. Once itโs over, we never see her again. She can go back to whatever she does when she isnโt pissing us off.โ
โNow thatโs mean,โ interrupted Lucy. โAnd she doesnโt piss us off.โ
โWell, sheโs mean.โ Lockwood sat back again, crossing his arms. โAnd she pisses me off. Letโs just hope she doesnโt mess anything up for us.โ
โShe wouldnโt, Lockwood. Not everyone is as petty as you.โ
โItโs not about being petty.โ Lockwood shook his head. โShe thinks she knows it all. Canโt follow orders either. I think sheโs got issues, if I'm honest.โ
โReminds me of someone.โ
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