Work Text:
It had been a very long night. After an evening of clearing ghosts from a client’s (very infested) home, it had begun to storm. With little money to spare and the hour of night, transportation was not an option. That’s how they found themselves stumbling down the street, shivering with chattering teeth and foggy breaths. Lucy’s lips had turned blue long ago, and Lockwood’s exposed arm was taking on an eerie colour. Despite his sleeve having been tattered in a tumble down the stairs, he had refused to accept George’s jacket. Self-sacrificing jerk, the academic had nearly scoffed. They hadn’t planned on the job taking quite so long, and as the snowfall grew heavier, George began to fear that they would not make it home. His shoes scuffed against snow-covered cobblestone, a change that caused a spark of hope to bloom in his chest. Cobblestone meant they were within a block.
George shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and began to pick up the pace. Lucy followed suit quickly, recognising, despite a cold-addled mind, that a warm bed was near. Lockwood, however, had seemed to have slowed down, almost stumbling as he tried to keep up. George cursed himself. It was becoming ever more evident that his boyfriend was hiding an injury again, or worse, succumbing to the cold. Or both, an unhelpful voice in his mind provided.
“Lucy,” George gently took his girlfriend’s arm, “Do you think you can get back to the house alone and get the fireplace going?”
“Yeah, but why? We’re almost there, I can see the lights-” She turned ever so slightly toward him and nearly tripped at the worsening state Lockwood was in. “I’ll go get the fire on. Get him back safely.”
George quickly promised he would, and Lucy marched off as quickly as she could toward the glow of the streetlights. George turned back to Lockwood, approaching him steadily as he tried to get his attention.
“Lock?” Lockwood looked up, barely able to acknowledge what was happening around him. “We’re almost there. Only a few houses down. But I need you to do me a favour.”
Without giving Lockwood a chance to reply, George stripped off his own coat and wrapped it around Lockwood’s shoulders. Lockwood stopped in his tracks, seeming to struggle to process what had happened.
“...Why?”
“I don’t need it,” George lied, dodging his real concerns. “Besides, we’re almost there.”
Lockwood nodded slowly, accepting the answer. George inched closer to his boyfriend, not enough to catch his notice, but enough to keep him from falling as they continued forward. George would’ve liked to say that being closer had eased his worries, but it had done the opposite. Lockwood was no longer shivering, nor were his teeth chattering, and his breath had taken on an awful rattling noise. George’s anxiety began to swirl around his brain, thinking of every horrible outcome and potential injury. Taking Lockwood’s arm to guide him over a final icy bump, the pair made their way up the stairs to the front door. George was reassured by the third set of footprints that had already made its way inside.
“Where’s Luce?” Lockwood finally processed her absence.
“She’s inside,” George reassured him. “We’re going to hangout in front of the fire for a bit before going to bed.” A half-truth, but effective, as Lockwood enjoyed their quiet evenings.
George forced open the front door and was greeted by the sound of a whistling teakettle and burning warmth. While he relished the heat, Lockwood let out a small whimper as every fibre of his body suddenly felt as though it had burst into flames.
“George? Lockwood?” Lucy turned the corner. “Thank goodness.” It had only been five minutes, but she had begun to worry. George shut the door behind the two of them and helped guide Lockwood down the hallway, meeting Lucy at the entrance to the sitting room.
Since entering the house, Lockwood had completely unravelled. He had never felt such excruciating pain and couldn’t stop tears from flooding down his cheeks. Lucy quickly took control of the situation.
“George, can you go make the tea? Lockwood, let’s go sit down by the fire.” George bustled off to the kitchen, leaving Lockwood and Lucy to stumble to the sofa. Lockwood could barely process what was happening around him, his brain pounding with dizzying pain.
Lucy helped him sit down and began to cover him in blankets, assessing his state and trying to remember her limited medical training. Hypothermia was most certainly on the table, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was going on.
“Lock?” She asked gently, getting his attention. The pain was barely dying down, but it was enough that he could hear her voice. “Did you get hurt when you fell?”
“It’s nothing,” He tried to dismiss, but she gave him a stern look. “Okay, my ankle and my shoulder.”
“I’m going to take a look,” She warned him, moving the blanket pile just enough to pull back at his sleeve. Underneath, the skin was bruised and freezing all the way down the arm. She looked at the tear along the side of his shoulder, freezing as a gentle brush against his skin made him flinch.
“Lockwood, it’s dislocated. How did you keep using your rapier?”
He stared at her blankly, looking somewhat confused, before saying. “I just didn’t notice.”
Before she had a chance to speak, George reentered the room with a tray of three steaming cups of tea.
“How’s he looking?”
“Hypothermic, dislocated shoulder, injured ankle,” She quickly gave the rundown.
“Alright, I can relocate his shoulder, but Lucy, I need you under the blankets too. You look like you’re freezing. And tomorrow, you two will be learning the importance of dressing for the weather.” His tone of concern slid into his usual scolding tone easily.
Lucy obliged, somewhat relieved that she could sit down and rest. George looked at Lockwood’s shoulder. “Alright, this is going to hurt a bit, but it’ll hurt less when I am done.”
Lockwood just nodded and closed his eyes, taking a sharp inhale when George shoved the joint fully back into its socket. The pain cleared out quickly, and suddenly, his mind felt clearer. The warmth still hurt, but it was getting easier.
“It’s a good thing we don’t have another job this week,” He chuckled, a statement that shocked them both. Lockwood, the workaholic, was accepting that they needed to recover.
“What about the money?” George asked.
“We can worry about that tomorrow. For now, I just need to cuddle with my partners.”