Chapter Text
Milk and toast and honey
Ain't it funny how things sometimes look so clear
And feel so near
The dreams I dream
My favorite wishful thinkin'
Oh, he's bookmarked everywhere, everywhere
- Roxette, Milk and Toast and Honey, 2001
Lockwood was oblivious to it.
But, was he?
George was uncertain. He also had a feeling that Lucy was too.
Oblivious?
Uncertain?
Seriously, take your pick.
But George, honestly only had an inkling. Because whenever Lockwood did it, Lucy sort of had an odd look - thinly veiled surprise and confusion would flit across her features and then be gone.
And Lockwood would act like it was the most normal thing in the world.
It was a little exasperating.
The fact of the matter was, Lockwood never buttered George’s toast. And yet, he always made sure he did Lucy’s.
The first time George noticed Lockwood doing it, he thought it was a one-off. But then, Lockwood did it again and again. Without Lucy ever asking him to do so. He even noticed Lockwood cutting the carefully buttered slices on the diagonal.
George was only truly thinking about it because he had just stumbled into the kitchen this morning to find their agency’s namesake already at the toaster, sliding slices of bread in.
“Ah, good morning George,” Lockwood says, greeting him brightly and pausing to sip his tea.
“Morning,” George replies, taking note that Lucy hadn’t made it down yet. He takes a moment to fully wake and then smiles sweetly at Lockwood to which Lockwood, rightly so, is suddenly suspicious. George figures now was a good time to ask, as any.
“Lockwood,” George starts. “Can I ask you something?”
Lockwood cocks his head to the side, curious but cautious. “Of course.”
“Why do you always butter Lucy’s toast?” George asks bluntly, an expectant smirk playing on his lips. Adding quickly, “and I don’t mean it as a euphemism.”
Lockwood is in the middle of drinking his tea and sputters, causing the liquid to spill out the sides of his mouth, and over the rim and back into his mug.
George laughs, then upon receiving a death glare from Lockwood, stifles it immediately. Lockwood sets down his cup and grabs the nearest available kitchen cloth. A well timed and most opportune ejection of toast distracts Lockwood from perhaps inflicting bodily harm to George.
“I don’t. I do not,” Lockwood says, almost defensively, distracting himself with the task at hand and turning to pull the bread from the toaster. But Lockwood’s a clever boy, so instead he says, “this is actually for you. I heard you get up earlier.”
“What? For me?” George asks, acting surprised as he takes a seat at the table. He’s not gullible, but something tells him to not be so mean to Lockwood, who he knows is purposefully detached, but is getting better about being less so. For him and for Lucy.
He understands exactly why Lockwood makes toast for Lucy and he’s not the slightest bit offended by it.
Lockwood clears his throat loudly. “Uh, shall I butter it for you, George?” he asks, clearly hoping that they could move on from his reaction earlier to George’s question.
“Yes, please,” George answers. Then, “and if you could drizzle some honey on as well, thanks.” He knew he was pushing it, but he thought it wouldn’t hurt to ask. He doesn’t normally add honey to his morning toast. He notices how Lockwood clenches his jaw as he nods and heads towards their pantry shelf. George has to struggle to hold in his snicker.
Lucy enters just as Lockwood finds the honey on the shelf. “Morning,” she says with a sleepy smile at them both. “I’m famished, I could certainly do with some toast,” she adds as she heads over to the kettle to start her tea.
At this, George guffaws and loses all of his composure. He drops his head onto his folded arms on the Thinking Cloth and is shaking with suppressed laughter.
“George? What is the matter with him?” Lucy asks, turning a concerned look at Lockwood.
Lockwood walks over and steps quickly in front of Lucy to block George from her view. “Er, he’s uh, he’s fine, Luce.” He says. “Erm, toast, right?” Lockwood asks, hoping to divert her attention.
There’s a rather loud and undignified snort from George.
But, Lockwood manages a radiant smile at Lucy that has her arching her brow in response. “Uh, how about you take the toast I made for George and I’ll make more for him, after he gets himself sorted,” Lockwood says pointedly, not even bothering to look at their researcher.
George has stopped laughing but is still wiping the tears from his eyes, reaching his fingers under his glasses to do so. “Yeah, Lucy, you go ahead,” he says, a little breathless and giddy, as he watches her take a seat across from him.
“You sure Georgie?” she asks, a small grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. At his nod, she turns to Lockwood and says, “I had no idea you like making toast so much.” She smiles warmly, genuinely at Lockwood as he hands her George’s plate. He looks pleased with himself and when he turns his attention back to the toaster, she looks over at George and winks.
George looks back at her, mouth agape. “You cheeky little bird,” he whispers to Lucy, a full blown smile illuminating his features.