Work Text:
Two men were parked just down the corner of the hospital, standing in their spots like marble figurines. One was tall and imposing, with broad shoulders and arms the size of your head. You winced just looking at him, wondering if you could get knocked out by a punch or a slap if you so much as neared him. The one next to him lacked in size but made up with the guns in his holsters. He caught your eyes several times throughout the half hour you've been observing the way you could wiggle around without them seeing you. "You know he'll catch you if you try to evade them?"
You almost rolled your eyes, fingers curled around the curtain. "Who? Tom or Changretta?"
Michael snorted loudly where he sat on his bed obediently, "Both."
Humming to yourself, you stepped away from the window and turned to the younger lad. Michael was eyeing the scattered papers on the small oak table, as if looking at them would allow him to analyze what's written on them. Eyes narrowed into a deep frown; you took it upon yourself to deny him of that privilege. "You need rest."
Michael gave you a long look. "What I need are those papers."
There was something in his eyes, wariness, you realized. You didn't blame him. After what happened with Luca Changretta, anyone would be anxious.
He opened his mouth to say something, and you stood on careful feet while waiting for him to open up. Just then, when his mouth formed into what would look like a beginning of a sentence, a sharp voice of a superior reasoned through, demanding your attention. "I'll be right back."
You slipped out the door, and Michael heaved a sigh wishing you were anywhere but near him. There was no doubt in his mind that Tommy was close by, and his mother's ploy played out like his mind was the theater.
***
"Thomas Shelby is here."
"I heard so too. Did you see?"
"I don't know! It happened so fast!"
"Well bloody find out!"
You didn't know if your legs stopped, or your body gave out altogether. Standing just outside the room, you listened to the two fellow nurses talk animatedly to each other. Judging by their words, he didn't just stroll in to drop by.
What is something happened to him?
Not knowing what to do, save run and try to find out, you grabbed the flowy material of the skirt in your hands and rushed down the stairs. Michael's room was your immediate guess, and you raced toward it, not looking. Your shoes were a dead giveaway, a warning to everyone standing in your way. If they knew what was best for them, they would move out of the way.
Except for this one person.
Dressed in all black, with leather gloves and coat, the man before you was as calm and collected as a stone statue. You ran your wide eyes over the expensive material of the waistcoat, instinctively shaking off the strong hands on your arms. The man didn't let go, and you swallowed uncomfortably, only finding it in yourself to slowly look up into his eyes.
When Tommy's face broke through and into your line of vision, you realized you were shaking uncontrollably.
"Oh, thank God!" You exhaled in relief, sneaking your arms around his waist. Your grip was tight, suffocating even, but he didn't say a thing. "What happened? Why are you here?"
"Why wouldn't I be here?" Asked Tommy, furrowing his brows ever so slightly when you placed your chin on his chest and looked up at him, your eyes prickling with unshed tears.
"You-you don't just show up at me work unannounced," you sniffed, laying your head back onto him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart, a reminder that he was safe. "Especially not with that Italian bastard in town. And my guards too."
You felt his chest vibrate as he heaved a chuckle, "You met Scott and James?"
"Briefly," you muttered bitterly as you released him. You ran a hand over your uniform, fixing your crooked white cap.
The Shelby noticed. Your man took you closer to him, urging you to look his way when he placed a finger under your chin. "They're there to protect to, hm?"
You sighed, "But who's protecting you?"
"If he can hurt you, he can hurt me," said Tommy, his blue eyes inches away from yours. "If he can't get to you, then he can't get to me either."
"But—"
"No buts," he cut you off. "I need you to be safe, eh? I need you to come home to me."
"Of course, I'll come—"
"Then there's nothing to worry about," his thumbs circled into your arms until you were comfortable. "When I'm not here, you stay with the guards."
"And when you are here?"
"You don't leave my side."
In his words were layers of worry, love and promises. The words were simple but laced with the ability to make your heart skip beat and your toes curl. The ice in his demeanor was present though it cracked the longer you were closer to him.
Compelled to make sure he was there with you, safe and whole, you leaned in, eyes closed and pressed your lips to his. "This vendetta will be the death of us."
His smirk was stretched out, and he looked at you with adoration. "It will be my death. I won't let it touch a strand of hair on your head, eh?"