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Never fucking drive in London... Alfie should know better by now and he thoroughly hates himself for this decision, as well as the one to ‘just swing by for some groceries’ despite working late in the bakery to prepare a dough. But his royal highness Thomas Michael Shelby will be most displeased if there’s no milk tomorrow and honestly, whatever his princess wants, he shall have. If only because it gives Alfie the excuse to say that exact phrase and watch Tommy scowl at him.
Right now however, he’s fairly sure Tommy would’ve taken his tea without milk indefinitely if it had meant Alfie would’ve been home on time.
Finally, he has to give up and park several blocks away from their apartment. And it’s possible the front tire ends up on the sidewalk, but that seems completely irrelevant at the moment. Far above him, the smattering of fireworks continue relentlessly. He slams the door shut using his foot, one arm around the bag of groceries and fishing for his mobile in his coat pocket with his free hand. The signals go through, but there’s no answer. Making his way down the street he starts typing out yet another text, despite the three previous ones remaining unanswered. Will be home in less than five minutes love-
“Oi, watch where you’re-“
He doesn’t even slow down to apologize to the highly offended owner of the voice.
Two minutes later, he’s standing outside their apartment, cursing and wrestling with the locks on the door, wondering who on earth decided doors needed this many fucking locks. If people are determined enough to break in and have gotten through one lock, why would a second one stop them? Would they suddenly fucking… give up halfway through?
Finally he gets the door open.
“Tommy, love, I’m so sorry I’m late. It‘s fucking bullshit this… was an accident on the A40 and I had to-“ He struggles out of his boots, leaving them haphazardly in the middle of the hallway. “Had to fucking take the tunnel, didn’t I? Yeah. Absolute fucking bullshit- Some people clearly shouldn’t be operating any vehicle more complicated than a bike.“
All the lights are on in the apartment, but Tommy is nowhere to be seen.
“Tommy?” He shoves the entire bag of groceries into the fridge -fuck actually sorting them into shelves, he’s got more important things to do, and then sets off towards the bedroom.
There’s a small lump in the middle of the bed, covered entirely by the duvet and several blankets.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he sighs as he walks up to the bed, sinking down onto the mattress and rubbing his palm over the figure. “It’s okay.”
The lump remains motionless but he feels the slight tremors under his palm, can hear the hitched breaths. When he lifts the covers ever so slightly he finds Tommy curled up into a tightly wounded ball, knees drawn up to his chest, face tucked against them and arms covering his head. He’s not just trembling, but actually shaking violently, which becomes painfully clear now. When a smattering of fireworks go off just a block or two away, he lets out a choked whimper and winds his fingers into his hair.
“It’s alright, love, I’m here now,” Alfie says and lies down behind him, pulling the covers up over them both again. Then he curls himself around his quivering frame, opting for wrapping an arm all the way over his knees and letting him stay in his position. Tommy doesn’t acknowledge him. His breathing continues to come in erratic burst, wheezing out of his throat. Alfie strokes his hair
“It‘s just noise, love, just noise,” he whispers. “It’s scary fucking noise, I’ll give you that, all those bangs. But it’s just noise. Happy people who just want an excuse to play with a bit of… fire and gunpowder, but it’s all fun and games. And the worst that’ll come out of it are all those colourful plastic bits you find all over the city for days afterwards.”
He presses a kiss against the nape of his neck.
“You’re home, you’re safe, and no one in the world will ever hurt you again. Because I’m going to personally hunt them down and end them in the most painful way possible if they do.”
There’s a high bang right outside the bloody window and Tommy lets out a horrified shriek that seems to cut like a dagger through his chest. Then there’s another one and Alfie realises that whoever is setting those off is hanging out on the street beneath their flat. If he listens closely, he can hear the unmistakable drunken hollering of a few lads apparently having the time of their fucking life out there.
When the third firecracker goes off, Tommy starts crying. This heart wrenching, desperately frightened sound that cuts him to his very core.
And fuck it, Alfie might not be able to do anything about the entire goddamn city losing their collective mind, but he can at the very least keep them away from this small patch of street…
“I’ll be right back, love,” he promises in a whisper and squeezes Tommy tightly, before climbing out of bed and stomping over to the window. He throws it open and stares down at the street, where a group of five young men are having a grand ole time with a box of matches and far more firecrackers than anyone should reasonably have. Which of course must break all sorts of laws but he couldn’t give less of a fuck -as long as they’re far away from here.
“Oi, you fucking lot!” he bellows and successfully gains the attention of at least two of them -one wearing a spectacularly dumb hat with some print he can’t read but instantly hates anyway, and one with a slightly less dumb hat. “Fuck off with that noise will you?”
“Nah, you fucking…fuck off,” Dumb Hat Guy yells back. Now, that’s really fucking eloquent, innit?
“Alright, this is the deal,” Alfie barks at them, somehow trying to burn Dumb Hat alive with his gaze alone. “I’ve got someone up here who can’t fucking stand all this noise. So if I have to fucking tell you again, I’m going to come down there and shove one of those so far up your arse you can fire it through your fucking mouth!” He does wish he was a bit closer -he cuts a more imposing figure face to face, he’s well aware. But thank fuck the guys don’t seem to be out for trouble tonight.
“Fucking fine,” Less Dumb Hat Guy bellows as Dumb Hat Guy starts dragging him down the street to join their three friends, who are blessing the neighbourhood with a terribly off key version of God save the queen.
All things considered that went easier than expected. Alfie shoves the window closed and quickly returns to the bed and Tommy, who hasn’t moved an inch since he left, still shaking violently and choking out heart wrenching sobs. He pulls him close again.
“There we go, they went away. I know I can’t make all of the noise stop, but it’s a start,” he whispers and rubs his palm over his side. “But it’ll stop soon, I promise.”
For a bit, there’s no change: Tommy stays curled up so tightly that Alfie thinks he might’ve frozen like that, the quiet sobs wracking his frame. Alfie just holds him. Holds him, shushes him gently and mutters soothing nonsense against the soft skin on the back of his neck. It’s all he can do for now. He wishes he didn’t have to know shit like that, but things are the way they are, right? So he’s well versed in how these things usually go. And he knows that right now, Tommy can’t quite hear him. Mostly just registers that he’s there, that he’s not alone. But there’s no point in getting into elaborate stories. Simply repeating that he’s safe, that he’s not alone and holding him is enough.
Bit by bit, Tommy’s muscles seem to soften, and his legs relax enough for Alfie to wrap the arm around his waist instead. He places a hand on his chest, feeling the quick pitter patter of Tommy’s heart against his palm. Like a frightened rabbit’s. He pulls him a bit closer. Hoping his own heartbeat will somehow seep into Tommy’s chest and calm his racing pulse.
The fireworks continue to thunder in the distance.
“So, a lady came to the bakery today,” he begins quietly. “Wanted to buy raisin bagels. Of all the things in the world. Whoever began stuffing raisins into perfectly good bread should be charged for their heinous crimes against humanity.“
He talks a bit about the nerve of certain people. It’s becoming quite warm and stuffy underneath the duvet, but it’s a small price to pay. Whatever makes Tommy feel even marginally more safe is worth it. As he talks, he can feel Tommy relax further into his embrace. Finally he turns around to face him, burying his face in his chest.
“Would you like to get out of these clothes, love?” he asks then. “Think you’d be more comfortable.”
After getting a small nod in response, he helps Tommy out of his clothes and goes to turn the light off, making sure to first switch on the lamp on the bedside table. When he climbs back into bed, Tommy is watching him from under heavy eyelids, his long lashes still wet with tears. God, if he could, he’d go out there and personally rip the fireworks from each and every fucking idiot holding them, consequences be damned. A statement that when said out loud finally earns him a faint smile, even as Tommy still trembles ever so slightly.
Soon, Tommy is safely wrapped up in his arms again, face buried in his chest. Outside, another round of fireworks go off right nearby and like clockwork, his breathing hitches.
“Did I ever tell you about the time me and my cousin tried to build a hot air balloon and send his action figure to the moon?” Alfie asks and Tommy makes a noise that could almost be the beginning of a quiet laugh.
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, it’s an excellent, excellent story, so strap yourself in,” he says and starts stroking his hair again, raking his nails softly against his scalp. “So, me and my cousin, right, we used to spend a few weeks every year at his grandmother’s place outside Margate. Big fields and all that, and-“
It’s a long story. And once that is finished, he follows it up with another one, and another, as the fireworks outside continue to colour the sky blue and green and red. Tommy clings tightly to him, as if he’s drowning. Perhaps he is, in a way. But Alfie will do his best to keep him afloat.