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The alarm was going off far too early again. Sure, they were only twenty-nine, but Lockwood and Lucy were really starting to feel their age.
Lockwood smacked his phone to quell the racket. He sighed.
“Did you sleep? Feels like I didn’t sleep.”
“Mmph.” Lucy replied, burrowing into her pillows.
“Alright, game plan: I’ll go get the baby up and wake Margaret, you go rouse the boys, meet in the kitchen.”
Lucy rolled over and scowled at him without much menace. “Convenient you get the kids in the rooms that don’t require going up any stairs.”
“Yes, but I might have to do the nappies.”
“Fair point.”
The two of them rolled out of bed on their respective sides threw on the necessary garments. Once the kids were off to school they could dress properly and get themselves looking ready for society. Lucy tugged on a ratty blue cardigan George’s mother had knitted for her years ago, Lockwood berated himself once again for slipping into a pair of sweats. But he could look good later. It was impossible to look fancy and handsome at 7am with four kids. He had to make some allowances.
They hadn’t meant to end up with four kids at twenty-nine. But that was another story.
Lucy trudged up the stairs and knocked on the door to the attic that had once belonged to her, back before there had been this ring on finger. There were grumbles of annoyance from within, which signaled it was safe to enter, so she did.
“Good morning munchkins!” She took a running jump and plopped onto Connor’s bed, causing him to make a loud noise somewhere between a giggle and a groan.
“Mooom, get off!”
“Only if you get up! School time you little gremlin!” She ruffled his hair and did a once-over as he sat up and threw off the covers with a scowl that was suppressing a smile.
They’d found Connor when he was eight, crying outside a building after a job gone wrong. DEPRAC had called them in to help. His parents had died that same year, and the relative that was awarded guardianship had all but sold him off to an agency at the first opportunity. He’d been the youngest on his team, nonetheless they’d all died horribly when they were sent in to do a case horrifically unprepared. Apparently, one of the older boys had thrown him out the front door, and that was the only reason he’d lived. Of course, Lucy and Anthony- already Mr. and Mrs. Lockwood at that point- had been furious. They successfully levied charges of neglect against both the agency and Connor’s guardian. But then they’d taken one look at him. He’d already grown attached in the time they’d been keeping him safe, pending guardianship hearing. Long story short, they’d adopted him, and now he was twelve.
She glanced over at Ryan, who was quietly rising from his own bed without complaint. He was somber boy of sixteen, painfully polite and well-behaved. He was also the most recent addition to the family, having come to live with them only five months ago. It was more of a foster care situation; they always gave the kids the choice if they wanted adoption. Ryan was older, he’d been through a lot, so they weren’t sure yet if that was something he would end up wanting. But they already loved him, and they would always be there for him whether their relationship had a legal name or not.
“Good morning Lucy,” He said in his small voice. It didn’t seem to fit a boy of his size, nor such an esteemed agent. Retired agent. Then again, if you’d worked at a militant agency from the ages of nine to sixteen and watched three whole teams die, you’d probably be a little unusual too. He was a survivor much in the same way Lockwood was; alone by accident, scared to connect.
Lucy approached him slowly like she always did and pulled him into a standard morning hug. He was getting better at them, smiling more and giving squeezes in return. She gave him a pat on the head.
“Alright you two, dress yourselves and come down for brekkie.”
Ryan returned a dutiful “Yes ma’am,” while Connor spat a raspberry at her. She spat a fat one back, mostly to remind Ryan he needn’t be so formal, then she trotted down the stairs into the kitchen to start breakfast.
“Peekaboo!” Lockwood stuck his head into the room that once belonged to his own sister. Now it was painted a friendly shade of green and filled with little toys and trinkets that belonged to his own baby girl.
Georgie was already up and bouncing, chubby little hands gripping the rails of her crib. She hadn’t been a decision so much as something that had happened two years and some months ago, which they had chosen to roll with. She had Mummy’s honey blond hair and Daddy’s big brown eyes, and it took all the restraint in Lockwood’s big lanky body not to squeeze her to death for her cuteness. He adored all these children equally, but Georgie was the first baby, which came with some advantages.
He plucked her from the crib and sat her on his hip, showering her with kisses. She responded with uproarious giggles and a big, half-toothless smile that made his heart turn inside out. “Okay Georgie, let’s go wake sissy!”
He turned on his heel and strode several steps across the landing, where he knocked on George’s door. Well, it used to be George’s. He had long since moved out to his own apartment (closer to the archives, he always bragged), which Flo came and went from as she pleased. Once the room was free, it was a blank space. Cleaning it out had been a nightmare, but they’d done it and let it sit empty for a while. That was until he and Lucy had gone on their first big family vacation to Brighton with Connor, and happened upon a twelve-year-old girl under a bridge.
Margaret opened the door and rubbed her groggy eyes.
“I’ve decided to quit school. I’ll be a freelance something or other.” She declared.
“No, you’re not. Go and get dressed then.”
“You’re boring. You didn’t even go to school.”
“That is entirely irrelevant. I was home-educated.”
“Booo Dad stuff. The baby stinks.”
“Yes well! I haven’t gotten to the diaper yet! I was too busy making sure my teenager was out of bed!”
She gestured to herself sarcastically. She had come to earn George’s room with her spicy personality. Lockwood dipped inside and gave her a peck on the head. She rewarded him with a short hug and waved bye bye to Georgie, who excitedly waved in return.
Lockwood closed the door behind himself and couldn’t help reminiscing. Marge had been raised by a single mother who ended up ghost-touched. Then she’d been carted away to a horrifically violent uncle and subsequently run away, which is where they’d found her. It took her only a week to start calling Lucy mum, but it was months of agony for Anthony. She’d flinched and stayed as far away from him as possible, viewed every interaction as a potential threat. He’d been up crying nights on end, Lucy comforting and assuring him it wasn’t his fault. Sometimes it broke his heart even further to remember his own wife had been like this girl once. Lucy denied this staunchly, said it was never nearly as bad as it was for Margaret, but it didn’t really matter.
In the end, though, Marg came to trust him and referred to him proudly as her father. She publically bragged about her famous parents, and that made him utterly heart-warmed.
Nonetheless, she was certainly old enough to dress herself so he took Georgie back to her room, changed and dressed her, and then plopped her down on the floor of he and Lucy’s bedroom while he dressed himself and put that special coif in his hair. The gray streak had grown, but Lucy insisted it was wrong to dye it so he begrudgingly let it grow. When one’s wife calls something ‘kinda sexy’, you simply have to roll with it.
Lucy, for her part, was already down in the kitchen fixing enormous portions of the breakfast essentials. She wasn't George and never would be. She missed his gourmet meals more than anything, but hers kept the family fed at least. Lockwood managed to forget and subsequently burn anything he touched, so his job was the after-meal cleanups.
As if he’d heard her thoughts and been summoned, he appeared in the doorway with a wriggling bundle that shared Lucy’s nose.
“Mama!” Georgie shrieked, stretching out her little arms. Lockwood grinned and brought her over to Lucy, who set down the spatula and stepped away from the stove to bid her good morning. Lockwood instantly stepped into action, giving the eggs a good stir so she had a moment and then fixing them both their morning teas. By the time Lucy turned around to hand Georgie back he had the table set and her tea by the stovetop, arms open to receive her.
“I’ll never understand how you do that.” Lucy remarked, standing on her tiptoes to offer him a kiss. He ran one hand through the streak of gray on her young, blonde hair, the other supporting one of their gaggle of wards between them.
“I’m just that talented.” He reciprocated her kiss with several more stopping only at the sound of the kitchen door opening behind him. He turned and saw Ryan quietly slinking in, so he wrestled Georgie into her highchair and plucked an orange from the fruit bowl.
“Think fast!”
This caught Ryan’s attention. He froze, hands in the air. Lockwood feigned several times, hoping to trick him about which direction it was coming. In the end he tossed it to no avail- Ryan caught it like it was nothing, like he always did.
“Darn it. He got it again. He never misses! It’s just uncanny.”
Lucy turned and smiled at them both as she brought over the plate of eggs. “Go and get started.”
Connor barreled in a few moments later, finally followed by Margaret in her typical funeral appropriate attire. Connor ran straight for Lockwood and started telling him about the dream he’d had, which was apparently very interesting. Marge on the other hand, ran right for Lucy and busied herself helping. She didn’t much like domestic tasks, but she loved being near Lucy or anything that made her smile. On Mother’s day each year since she’d come, she’d cooked up some elaborate scheme to show her gratitude.
At last they were all sitting down at the same table, gathered round and munching happily. Lucy placed an extra sausage in front of Ryan, after all he was a growing teenage boy. He smiled faintly.
“Thanks, Lucy.”
“Of course.” She turned to Lockwood. “Oh, I forgot to mention. George rang earlier, he and Flo are coming over tonight.”
“Uncle George and Aunt Flo?!” Connor squealed.
“On second thought, maybe we should just call Flo, Flo.” Lucy said, pulling at her nonexistent shirt collar.
“Why?” Connor asked. Ryan slid his eyes in the younger boy’s direction slyly, but said nothing.
“Aunt Flo is a slang term for period. Girl time.” Marge said casually, not looking up from her toast. She was also avidly reading a Kerrang magazine that seemed to have appeared from nowhere.
“Marge,” Lucy scolded.
“What?”
“Bodily functions aren’t good table conversation.”
“My body my table conversation!” She protested.
Lucy suppressed a grin. “I respect your autonomy, but I really don’t want to be thinking about it while I slather these eggs in ketchup.”
“So anyway,” Lockwood cut in, suddenly put off his eggs. “Will George be cooking, or are we ordering in?”
“Man I so hope Uncle George is cooking,” Marge mused, her mouth practically watering.
“He will be.” Lucy confirmed, and all four children- she swore even Georgie- did a little dance of glee.
Lockwood stood up to get a second round of tea and skirted by Ryan, placing a friendly hand on his shoulder as he attempted to pass. Unfortunately the gesture was a little too sudden to be friendly and Ryan flinched instinctively.
“Oh.” Lockwood rescinded his hand immediately. “I’m so sorry Ryan, are you alright?”
Ryan schooled his features into something like indifference and nodded stalwartly, but he’d lost his voice. It had a way of going when he was caught out like this.
Connor reached over and gave the older boy’s arm a squeeze. “It’s okay. Marge used to do that all the time when she first came here.”
Marge, not one to enjoy talking about her past sensing that Ryan wasn’t either, broke the silence by changing the topic.
“I heard you guys burned a whole house down when you were agents.” She said, looking challengingly at her parents.
“What- where did you hear that?!” Lockwood burst. Lucy and he traded concerned glances.
“On the Internet.”
“Blast this Internet nonsense these days!” Lockwood fumed. “These kids can know anything at any time, it’s maddening and unfair. That’s a silly accusation, of course we didn’t!”
“The article said Mom did it.”
“I tossed a flare to save your irresponsible tush of a father!” Lucy defended.
“Hey! Don’t put that on me!”
“The Sheen road house was entirely on you!”
“Well it led us in the right direction and you got to make friends with your little ghost pal, didn’t you?”
“If by led in the right direction you mean Combe Carey hall where we-“
“Dispatched Sir John Fairfax and outed him as a murderer? Put on the track of the Orpheus Society and total conspiracy of our country?” Lockwood supplied.
“We nearly died countless times!”
“That was practically our hobby.”
“Oh, be a good example for the bloody children, Anthony!”
Lockwood smiled his wicked, million-pound smile, filling the room with blinding light.
“It got me all sorts of mixed up with you,” he added, and this final argument could not be debated. Lucy rolled her eyes.
“I suppose I did get a fair husband out of it. Even if he does my head in, more often than not.”
“Blech, old people love.” Connor moaned.
“We are so not old,” Lockwood countered. “Anyway, your bus will be here any moment, you three should get a move on.” The troops gathered themselves up and dumped their plates off in the sink, each stopping to hug Lockwood and Lucy goodbye. Lucy squished their cheeks and Lockwood kissed each of their heads- apart from Ryan’s, whose hair he opted to ruffle instead, giving him a bit of space.
“Is Georgie going to daycare today?” Lockwood asked, running the sink to get a head start on the dishes.
“Yes, I’ve got to get some pages written and then I’m to be at that protest in front of the courthouse.”
“Ah, blast, I forgot all about it! I’ll turn on the news so the kids can see you. I’ll be late for office hours. Oh well!”
“Oh well? You’re a terrible professor, Anthony.”
“I’m an amazing professor, these kids love me,” he countered. “I’ll make it up somehow. Anyway, I suppose I’ll see you for late dinner with the whole crew then?”
“Sound right. Thanks for taking Georgie for me.”
Lockwood stooped down to press his lips into hers once again.
“Any time, my darling. You’ll never know what all this means to me.”
“I do.” She replied assuredly, and truthfully she did. This family of theirs, and their found family too- they all needed each other, filled that void. Building this household was like feeling a wound finally close.
“Alright,” he whispered. “See you tonight.”
“See you then, stud.” She returned with a smile.
True to form it was a grueling day without there being any real malice in it. Just long, tiring, excessive. Chatting with George and Flo was a pleasure to enjoy as always, and the kids absolutely adored them. The food was amazing and the company even better, but even so, these two retired ghost hunters were beat.
By the time they managed to get all the kids to bed and retreat to their bedroom, they were both utterly exhausted. Lucy threw herself onto the bed face first.
“I know,” Lockwood responded. “I feel like I’m ninety some days.” He stripped quickly and with the usual amount of elegance despite his weariness. Lucy eyed him from the bed, appreciating the view.
“Least you’re still in good shape,” She said with a mischievous grin. “I’m never coming back from this baby body.”
Lockwood crawled onto the bed and wrapped his arms around her.
“Hush with that nonsense,” he chided. “You’re even sexier than when I met you.” He slipped his long, slender hands under her shirt and started working it off. She grinned.
“I’m too tired for sex,” she complained.
He laughed. “Me too. Let’s don’t and say we did.”
“Okay. It was really good sex though.”
“It was. Top shelf. I got off like, three times.”
“It was like, nine for me.”
“That might actually be a personal record.”
“Definitely. And on a night like tonight? Who would have thought.”
They giggled as they snuggled close, feeling like they had years ago when she’d first found herself in his bed, despite how decrepit they felt. Lucy kicked off her pants and tossed them in the laundry bin before slipping under the covers and settling into Lockwood’s arms. He kissed her forehead and they made themselves comfortable. They sunk into sleep readily now, unlike the old days.
So ended just another day like so many more to come.