When confronted with the ~only two rooms~ debacle at Albury Castle in The Creeping Shadow, I'm sure I'm not the only one who immediately imagined a "only one bed" fic.
It's one of the projects I'm working on for nano and probably won't be edited until December, so here's a sneak peek :)
This isn't edited so sorry about any typos
The group of them stared at the two sets of keys in front of them.
Two.
“Well, personally I’m too tall to fit in a twin bed or on the couch, so I’ll be taking the room with the big bed,” Kipps said. He reached out to snag the key, and Lockwood lunged forwards as well. Evidently their old rivalry still went deep enough that neither of them was willing to concede to the other.
But there were two keys, and they each pulled away with one. The game changed.
Holly eyed George and then Kipps, calculating the odds. “Well I’m not sharing a bed, so I will be taking the cot,” she said quickly, taking a step towards Kipps. She slung her bag over her shoulder and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, smiling tightly. Kipps grabbed his kit bag and the two of them headed upstairs. A moment later, a door closed.
And then there were three.
George, Lockwood, and Lucy stood staring at each other. A breath passed, and George took his glasses off to clean them on the bottom of his shirt. Carefully, he replaced his glasses and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He teetered on his heals as if he was waiting for someone to say something.
“Well,” Lucy started. She wished, suddenly, that she hadn’t bitten her tongue and had asked Holly to split the twin. It would have made the most sense. And yet here she was now, resigned to taking the couch. She could already imagine how much her back was going to hurt in the morning. “I suppose it makes the most sense for me to-”
“I’m more than happy to take the couch,” George said simply. “Personally, I like my personal space. And I can’t imagine either of you would be rather fond of spending the night with me.” He smiled at them delightedly and grabbed his bags, heading off to plop down on the couch by the fire. “Have a good night!”
“Wait,” Lucy called. “You-”
But George had already disappeared, and she was alone with Lockwood.
If he was phased by the idea of having to spend the night with Lucy, he didn’t show it. Instead, his eyes sparkled the way they always did, and he sent her one of his signature grins. He grabbed both of their kit bags.
“Onwards,” he said, swinging the key merrily around his fingers. He headed for the stairs.
Lucy felt jittery in her skin, but she took a heavy breath and forced herself to follow him. Might as well get this over with.
Upstairs, Lockwood meticulously put the key in the lock. He turned it, and the door popped open with a resounding click. He nudged it open with his foot and dropped their kit bags just inside the door.
“Charming,” he said.
Lucy followed him inside. The room was smaller than she’d imagined — even smaller than her tiny room in the attic. There was just barely enough room to walk around the twin bed, which was fitted with a faded, brown, hand-made quilt. Matching nightstands adorned either side of the bed, and each was outfitted with a reading lamp and small bowls of lavender.
A fireplace stood at the foot of the bed, and its dusty mantle was lined with old, black and white photos of the town. An ancient, tarnished mirror hung above it, and Lucy stared at herself in the reflection.
Lockwood walked to the window and gave a curious peek outside. The night glittered back at him, and his eyes shone as he looked out at the town.
“Well Danny’s right about one thing,” he said simply. “There are quite a few ghosts out tonight. No sign of the so-called ‘Creeping Shadow’ though.”
“That’s not altogether surprising,” Lucy said.
Lockwood shrugged. “Maybe. But you never know. We can do all kinds of research tomorrow — I suspect the townsfolk will have quite a bit to say. In the meantime, we should probably get some sleep.” He stepped back from the window and ruffled through his bag on the floor, withdrawing a toothbrush and a set of pajamas. “Shall we?”
Lucy’s heart fluttered in her chest. “Of course,” she said quickly.
Lockwood stepped past her and into the hall, where he disappeared into the bathroom. She closed the door to their room behind him and locked it, that nervous feeling in her chest growing stronger. She pulled the over-sized t-shirt she always slept in out of her bag, suddenly aware of how ratty it was and how badly it probably needed a wash. Her pajama pants weren’t in much better shape. She changed quickly, feeling overly self-conscious about her choice of sleepwear.
Why should she care, anyways? She never cared when Lockwood saw her in the mornings — hair disheveled, teeth unbrushed, imprints from her pillow still on her cheek as she stumbled into the kitchen for tea and toast. This shouldn’t be any different.
There was a knock at the door, and Lucy opened the door to be greeted, unsurprisingly, by Lockwood. He held his suit folded neatly in his arms and had changed into a pair of neat white pajamas. “Bathroom is free,” he said, heading into the room. “You might want to get in there before George does. Or Kipps, god knows how long his nightly routine probably is. I imagine it takes a good amount of upkeep to prevent him from looking like a ghost himself every day.”
Lucy snorted. She gladly followed his advice and headed to brush her teeth — partially to get away from him, but also because she’d made the mistake of using the bathroom after George once, and it was safe to say it was not a mistake she was ever going to make again. Even the skull had wrinkled his nose at the odor, and he didn’t even have a sense of smell.
Teeth brushed, she pulled her hair up into a ponytail and headed back into the bedroom. Lockwood had started a small fire while she was gone, and had turned off the main lights in the room. His reading lamp was on, and he was tucked beneath the bed covers already and had his nose buried in a local newspaper. When he had acquired it, Lucy had no idea.
“Erm,” she started awkwardly. “Would you prefer it if I took the floor?”
Lockwood looked up at her from the newspaper and blinked. “What?”
“Would you prefer it if I took the floor?” she repeated, motioning to it stupidly. “I’m sure I could drag down a pillow and blanket or something.”
“What are you talking about?” Lockwood asked. “Why on earth would you sleep on the floor?”
“Well…” she trailed off, suddenly feeling incredibly stupid. “I just… wanted to make sure you’re comfortable, is all.”
“Why should I ever feel uncomfortable in your presence?” Lockwood asked. “Anyways, I hope you don’t mind, but I started a fire. It was feeling a bit brisk in here.” He folded the newspaper over and tossed it onto the nightstand. “No offense to Aldbury Castle, but its news is incredibly dull. They haven’t even reported on any of the hauntings. Their front page news story is about how some farmer’s sheep went missing.” He huffed. “What’s the point of even having a newspaper if you’re not going to talk about anything important?”
Lucy snorted, thankful for his change of topic. “So getting into it isn’t one of your goals, then?”
He grinned. “I never said that.”
Shaking her head, Lucy closed the bedroom door behind her and stiffly slipped into bed. She pulled the covers high up over herself and turned to face away from Lockwood. It was a twin, so there wasn’t exactly much room to spare, but all the same she put as much space between the two of them as possible.
She felt Lockwood move, and a moment later his light switched off. “Good night, Lucy,” he said softly.
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Please please please I know we all love Friends and Chandler was our favourite character and Matthew always put a smile on our faces and that’s all amazing but can we please please please talk about this:
“I've had a lot of ups and downs in my life. I'm still working through it personally, but the best thing about me is that if an alcoholic or drug addict comes up to me and says, 'Will you help me?' I will always say, 'Yes, I know how to do that. I will do that for you, even if I can't always do it for myself! So I do that, whenever I can. In groups, or one on one.
And I created the Perry House in Malibu, a sober-living facility for men. I also wrote my play The End of Longing, which is a personal message to the world, an exaggerated form of me as a drunk. I had something important to say to people like me, and to people who love people like me.
When I die, I know people will talk about Friends, Friends, Friends. And I'm glad of that, happy l've done some solid work as an actor, as well as given people multiple chances to make fun of my struggles on the world wide web...
but when I die, as far as my so-called accomplishments go, it would be nice if Friends were listed far behind the things I did to try to help other people.
annaxmalina
discoholicmusic
pixelskylines
yousharknotpass
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