#lockbins

— hello !!! i'm doing an interest check for a georgewood ship week ! ^_^

i know georgewood is mostly used for the show, but lockbin will also be welcome during the week. this interest check will close on july 16th

even if you don't plan on participating, please do take time to respond since it is really helpful to see if people do or don't want to see this

form link -> https://forms.gle/JZZVzqz9vMnN8qpY8

“Special dish”- George x Lockwood

Lockwood and Co. Series

Summary: Never mess with the star of the show.

AU: Famous

————George————

“Ok everyone, we are going to be filming act 3, scene 7, I need all actors on the on their positions, we don’t have all day, so move it people!”

Its not easy to work in a movies studio; all the divas walking around, the director yelling to the background and sound crews, the makeup artist running around telling the actors their makeup and hair are not done yet. Its a crazy world full of crazy people. Rich people, mostly, but crazy for power and fame.

The kitchens, however, are a little different. None of us are culinary experts, no aesthetic artists, no power-hunger workers. Only chefs. Simple people with simple jobs. That is, until the director sends his instructions.

“George” Lucy, the director’s assistant greeted. Lucy’s job is simple, like mine; she has to carry around the director’s orders, make sure things were done in time, that the actor’s petitions were accomplished (if they were reasonable petitions), basically that the place was still standing by the end of the day. One of her jobs was to make sure us chefs cooked what the director and actors ordered.

“Lucy” Even though she and I argued almost every time we saw each other, I preferred when she was the one to come deliver the day’s menu. Lucy did not worked here because she wanted a big name for herself, if she was she wouldn’t be assistant director. She was a simple woman doing her job to the best of her capacity, which could reach man-scaring levels of authoritative manner.

“Here’s the requested menu of the day, and a list of what must be avoided, plus the director says he wants a coffee, no sugar, just a tea spoon of cream, in his desk by the stage, pronto!” She yelled the last part to where the cooks awaited instructions. They immediately took the list from her hands and got to work.

“Anything else?” I said turning to do my job.

“Not much, but if any interesting gossip pops up I’ll come”

“Thaaaaanks Lucy” With that, she turned around and walked out of the kitchen.

Like that, with our list of instructions, the kitchen burst into life: the smells of oil, spices and beef flooded the air, the sound of grilling covering our voices, heat came from the stoves and ovens. A normal day in my kitchen. Yes, my kitchen, I’m the chef.

A while later, a trolley was brought by a guy with fiery red hair and lots of freckles and a black turtleneck. I wasn’t sure who he was, we had never talked, all I know is that he brought the trolley in and out of this kitchen and to the set, every day, various times a day.

Soon, every dish in the list was loaded into the trolley, including my speciality dish; strawberry jam buns with lemon crème. I wasn’t sure who asked for that one, what I did know was that it was the same person, Lucy had told me that much.

The trolley was taken away a few seconds later, and the kitchen’s life died away. The stoves and ovens were turned off, the spare ingredients were replaced on the fridge and pantry, and the heat dissipated. The cooks washed their hands and took of their bandanas, and so did I.

It was a while later that hell broke loose on the set, but being on the kitchens, which are not exactly close, I couldn’t have known of what was happening. The first thing that happened was that Lucy ran into the kitchen, no clipboard on her hands.

“George!” She called. Me and all the cooks turned to look at her as she came towards us, hurriedly and out of breath “George!”

“Lucy, what is-”

“George, I know you didn’t do it on purpose, but he-” A crash was heard outside and then someone yelling. I looked at her again, but her gaze was now fixed on the door, her voice now calm, uneasily so “Tell him you didn’t do it”

“Where is the chef?!” The voice of the director, Mr Rotwell, boomed just outside and then the doors opened with a blast. The man stomped his way inside, slamming things out of his way “Mr Cubbins!”

“Mr Rotwell” I squared my shoulders, as did Lucy beside me. All my cooks cowered behind us, careful to stay away from the director’s anger “What can I do for you?”

“You, sir, dare to speak to me after what you’ve done? Poisoning an actor, very effective, Mr Cubbins, very effective, who would ever blame the cook! It is obvious you’ve learnt a few things from working in this studios!” I blinked confusedly behind my glasses. From behind the man I saw the door open once again to see two people walk inside, a lot calmer than how the director had done it.

“Mr Rotwell, I have no idea what you are talking about, we would never try to poison an actor or anyone else in this studio”

“Then how can you explain the reaction Mr Shaw suffered just minutes ago. His entire face went red, his throat was closing, Mr Cubbins!”

“Mr Rotwell” Lucy took a step forward “There is no proof that George-”

“Miss Carlyle” His head took a sharp turn to her, harshly shutting her “I would recommend you stay out of this, wether you and Mr Cubbins share a reason why you wish to support him, keep it to yourself. Calling this man by his first name; such unprofessionalism, such nerve, from you of all people, Miss Carlyle” Her cheeks turned red in embarrassment at the man’s false implications. He turned back at me “As for you, chef, take your things and get out of my sight before you try to poison anymore of my staff! Or anyone in this studio for that matter!”

I shook with anger and I felt like my eyes would pop from the way I looked at the man. I hadn’t done any poisoning to anyone, even though there are many people in this studio that I’ve have loved to poison over the years, Lucy, for example, when I first met her. Still, I had never done it, and I wasn’t about to start with some minor actor I barely knew.

However, there was nothing I could do. I knew it. Lucy knew it. The cooks knew it. Everyone knew it. Once Mr Rotwell said you were out, you were never getting back in. I had seen countless people from all the crews get fired: sound crew, costume crew, makeup and hair crew, even other cooks! I had seen of everything get kicked out of this buildings during all my years as a cook here, and I always remained thankful that wasn’t me. This work offered very good pay and it allowed me to do what I like most (plus, I get to boss people around since I’m the chef).

But now. Now I was the one getting kicked out.

“Ve-”

“Excuse me”

Mr Rotwell had been about to raise his voice at me when the new voice appeared. It wasn’t Lucy’s. It also wasn’t one of the cooks, I knew all their voices by heart. Then I remembered the man and woman that were standing beside the door.

“Excuse me” The man said again. Mr Rotwell turned around and made his best attempt at a smile.

“Oh, Mr Lockwood, Miss Munro! I hadn’t noticed you were there! I am so absolutely sorry you had to see that, I promise this won’t happen again, but you’ll understand-”

“Excuse me, Miss Carlyle?” The man ignored the director (something that was never encouraged to do) and turned right at Lucy “Is this the man you told me about?”

It took her a few moments to process the question, then she looked between Mr Rotwell and me and back to the man in the door.

“Yes, Mr Lockwood” She said “This is Mr George Cubbins, the chef you asked me about”

He nodded in acknowledgment, then finally turned to Mr Rotwell, who was slightly gaping, probably shocked for being ignored for the first time in his career.

“Mr Rotwell, you cannot fire this man” He said.

“Oh, Mr Lockwood, you’re a kind-hearted mind indeed, you most certainly are, but I can’t do that” He paused to adjust his tie “You see, this man just tried to poison someone, you and Miss Munro saw when they took Mr Shaw away, an dreadful scene if you ask me, honestly. I most dispose of this man before he tries anything else like this on another of my staff”

“He can’t be fired” The man, Mr Lockwood, said again.

Now, looking a little closer, I saw he was tall, really tall. He had floppy hair, messily done, but also perfectly held together. His face was slender, his nose aquiline, his eyebrows thin and elegant. In fact, everything about him was slender and elegant. He crossed his arms in a way I remembered Lucy describing as ‘the bothered diva’, which meant he was an actor because no one else of any other crew would make such gesture.

“You cannot fire this man, Mr Rotwell, you see, how am I supposed to get strawberry jam buns with lemon crème if the chef is not here to make them for me?” He asked waving his hand in the air and looking like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh, Mr Lockwood, we can always hire another chef for your-”

“Yes, you see, director, I don’t want any chef other than Mr George Cubbins” He said, his voice filled with arrogance “I have already tasted his food, and I just cannot trust someone to prepare that dish for me, it just wouldn’t be the same!”

I was told it is very common to see Mr Rotwell annoyed at the diva roles the actors loved to do to get away with their nonsense, though right now the director looked like he wanted to strangle someone. I peered at Lucy beside me, thinking she’d also be annoyed, at least that’s how she always looked when she told me about the actor’s behavior. However, she seemed to be greatly enjoying herself, looking like she was about to crack up laughing, biting her lip so hand her skin looked a little white.

“Mr Lockwood, I totally understand your petition, its nothing but reasonable, but I can’t afford-”

“Miss Carlyle, you did say there wasn’t enough proof that the chef here tried to poison poor Ned Shaw, right?”

“Yes, sir, that’s correct”

“Well there you have it, Mr Rotwell, how can you be so sure it was Mr Cubbins, if there aren’t enough facts, you cannot fire him”

“But I must, Mr Lockwood, I cannot afford to have this man try to commit another murder” The director looked at the actor in hopes he would finally agree, but instead of doing that, the man threw his hands in the air, then placed them sharply on his (practically nonexistent) hips, and remained silently staring.

“Well then” He said “Miss Carlyle if you could please be as kind as to get me a cab and call my manager, I need to talk to him about my resignation, I can’t even continue working here”

Then he turned around and took a step away, but before he got far, Mr Rotwell was in front of him.

“But, Mr Lockwood, surely you can’t be serious” He said in a supposedly calm voice, but I could tell, as well as Lucy knew, that he was getting nervous “This is just one big misunderstanding, tomorrow everything will be-”

“Yes, it is very clear that this is a misunderstanding, Mr Rotwell. You clearly do not understand the things I require to work my art. Someone who doesn’t get the needs of an artist like myself, I simply cannot work in this conditions!”

I felt something grip me by my shoulder and for a moment my blood ran cold, thinking it was security. I turned to see who’s hand it was, for it was a hand, but I was greeted by a brown mop of hair, shaking softly. Lucy, it was her hand and that was her hair, was now highly struggling to keep her voice quiet as she laughed. Tears had formed in her eyes and were trying to flow down her cheeks. Her shoulders shook and her other hand tightly clasped over her mouth.

“This is no working environment for a man such as me!”

“But, Mr Lockwood! You cannot go!” The director exclaimed “You’re our lead actor, our protagonist, our main character! You are the star of this movie!”

“You’ll have to get a new star for the movie, cause I’m out of here!” The man tried to walk around the director, but his path was blocked.

“Mr Lockwood, there must be something we can do! Something that can convince you to stay!”

“Rehire the chef”

“But-”

“Cab!”

“Alright! Alright, Mr Lockwood! Miss Carlyle” Lucy straightened beside me and took a sharp breath in.

“Yes, sir?” She said trying to keep a neutral face.

“Do not allow Mr Cubbins to leave this studio. He is the man of this kitchen”

“Alright sir” She gave me a brief smile, barely contained, but one that told me how hilarious she thought this all was. And I had to agree with her, to be perfectly honest: never, in all my years working on Lion Productions, had I ever witnessed an actor’s tantrum. Not a single time. I knew those were a thing because Lucy ranted about it like it was hot gossip, but I spent my time inside the walls of this kitchen and only once had I ventured farther because there had been a problem with the delivered food, but I never walked into the sets.

“Thank you, Mr Rotwell” The actor said with the brightest smile I had ever seen “You do understand the needs of an artist like myself, I knew you would. Now, if you need be, I shall be in my dressing room, I need to freshen up before we start rolling again. And, Miss Carlyle, if I could get some more strawberry jam buns with lemon crème, I would be most grateful”

After that, he walked out of the kitchen in long strides. The other woman, Miss Munro if I recall correctly, went away with Mr Rotwell as well, no doubt also making a few demands about whatever it was actors always complained about.

“Well, you heard him” Lucy said beside me “Get about pleasing your savior” The cooks finally stopped trembling behind us.

“Robin, get me the ingredients for the strawberry buns!” I called and got my people to work, besides, the menu for the evening meal would be arriving soon, we needed to start chopping vegetables and heating the ovens “Who was that man?”

“Remember that person who keeps asking for the buns?” Lucy leaned against the wall beside my working station and folded her arms. She normally didn’t have time to spare with ‘petty conversations’, but I guess that after that show (and running around the sets to get here before her boss did) she needed a break.

“The one that ‘sent their compliments’ a few days ago?” Robin came back a few moments later with every necessary ingredients and placed them on the counter, then ran back to his own station.

“That same guy. That was him”

“Miss Carlyle” One of the cooks handed Lucy a cup of tea and brought forth a stool for her, like it was customary for whenever she did stayed here for a chat (a.k.a., not that often). She took them gratefully.

“But who is that guy?” I added the ingredients to the flour, hands cleaned carefully, and kneaded them tenderly.

“Anthony J. Lockwood, hottest actor of the year, owner of the brightest smile in the world, and hot-dream date of every tween and teen in this world. Also, the protagonist and main star of the ‘Remember Me’ production Mr Rotwell is working on now” She sipped the tea carefully “Though, he isn’t usually like that” I raised an eyebrow at her, my hands now working on separating the dough into strips.

“He seemed to be right in his element” I said.

“His an actor, George, of course he was at his element. But he isn’t usually such a pain in the ass, he normally doesn’t do that kind of scenes”

“Then why did he did it now?”

“I think he was fairly obvious of what he wanted, George, or did you somehow miss everything he said?”

“Why would an actor ever risk his current job contract for a cook?” I asked her as I now beaten the strawberries I’ placed in the pans to make them jam.

“He took a calculated risk, George, Rotwell wasn’t gonna let him walk away just because. His the most popular actor of the moment, his skills are top and any movie that comes out now with him in it will win millions, no sane producer would let him off their hooks if they have the chance. As to why he did this, I don’t know. I’m only the assistant”

My hands went over the steps of cooking the buns and making the jam and the crème, but my mind was stuck on those moments the actor, Mr Lockwood, was in this kitchen. He acted like such a brat, and he got away with what he wanted. Had I been Mr Rotwell, I knew I wouldn’t have given a shit about whatever an actor’s tantrum was about.

And she was right, he had done it so I could keep my job. But why? Why would a man of his position care about what happened to a cook? What could he possibly want that made him through such a scene, because strawberry jam buns is definitely not the reason. He must have other intentions.

My last exam is over and I’m finally free from uni hell til September! In celebration, and coz it’s been a damn while since I ficced, send me prompts and I’ll write ya a lil one shot.

If you want it set in my Living Ghost extended universe that’s cool just specify in the ask pls.