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"Fuckin'-." Alfie scrubbed at the trail of drying blood running from the bone of his brow. The blood and salt of his skin had muddied the sight of his already tired eyes. He hung his head low, arms braced on either side of the sink. A wearied breath left him; lost in the sound of steadied water cascading from the bathroom faucet.
Alfie squinted at his reflection with a furrowed brow and paused.
What the fuck was he doing?
He dabbed gingerly at the tender wound with a damp towel. There was the slightest slit from where the brutish drunkard at the bar had caught him off guard.
Alfie's lip twitched at the memory. His grip on the sink tightened and his knuckles went white.
What the fuck was he thinking?
None of this was, of course, without complete and utter thanks to Thomas Shelby.
And of course it had been.
Of course it had been Tommy Shelby with all of his perverse provocateur--graced by the sickening sweet of his silver tongue.
It had been Tommy with his iron fists. Tommy with a malicious mouth who never cared to reign in every impulsive insult that ran through his head once the gin hit his lips.
Alfie felt a low growl of disdain rumble low in the depths of his barrel chest.
Mouthing off at the bar in a drunken stupor was one thing. Mouthing off and nearly breaking the jaws of anyone who dared to challenge him--in one of Alfie's bar's--was another.
-
"You don't have to press charges. We'll pay what damage is done before the sun is up." Ada had been minutes behind Thomas's escapade with Polly in tow. She'd tugged at the older man's shirt desperately as she watched her brother being pinned down by the strong of Alfred's barmen.
"Whoever the unlucky bastard--they probably deserved it." A almost manic giggle left her in the quiet between them.
Ada paused. Her mind seemed to wander as she stared, heartbroken, over to her older brother where he lay drunk and writhing against the bonds that held him.
"Ada-" Alfie flexed the raw of his knuckles without meeting her gaze.
Ada's wide eyes seemed to search his then, in the calm. "Tommy's just...he's always been a good kid. On the inside." She swallowed back the thickness clouding her voice.
"He's my brother, Alfie." Ada dropped her touch from his arm. "You know him. You know us. Please."
-
"Fuck." Alfie scrubbed a calloused hand through his hair as the memory plagued his thoughts.
A clatter erupted from outside the bathroom near the main bar.
Alfie threw his soiled shirt over his shoulder and made his way out without a second thought.
"Goddamnit," Thomas stumbled where he stood. The establishment was empty now, Alfie had closed it after the nights events. Thomas remained. After a patch job thanks to Alfie, no less. A courtesy Alfie was now possibly regretting since Thomas Shelby was now attempting to pull himself up to the bar from the booth he had left him asleep at.
The taller and younger man fumbled with a glass as he stepped behind the counter.
"Bar's closed, mate." Alfie stretched the tension from his shoulders as he cleared the bar to meet Thomas from behind.
Thomas waved him away. "Can't find the fuckin' water-"
Alfie reached into the small refrigerator behind them and pulled out two chilled bottles. "Here." He pressed one bottle to the sharp of Thomas's cheek. Thomas' froze.
Thomas's face was beginning to bruise: mottled watercolors of violet and indigo painted the corners of his mouth. Alfred caught himself staring at the other man's lips for a moment too long.
Tommy's eyes met his and flickered at their sudden proximity.
Alfie turned his gaze away. "Sit down before-"
"Fuck you."
"Thomas-"
"Don't call me-"
"Okay--Mister Shelby."
Thomas let the glass in his hand fall and shatter against the floor. He used the full weight of his slender frame in his forearm to shove Alfred up against the wall.
Alfred let him. His unwavering gaze hardened.
"Don't fucking do that. Not when we're here--alone. Not when you sat there lying to my sisters fucking face-" Alfie gripped Thomas's arms where they held him in place.
He could feel his pulse pounding away in the thickened blood of his veins.
"It's for the best." Thomas's grip tightened. His eyes flared, glittering like the glass scattered across the floor surrounding them.
"I hate you."
"No," Alfie swallowed. His voice was hoarse under Thomas's hold. "No you don't."
Tommy visibly bristled.
Alfie's gaze settled on Tommy's lips as they parted in the silence between them. The man before him stood in disbelief, hardened glare unwavering. Alfie wondered for a moment, just how much more he could bare.
Thomas's hold on Alfie faltered.
"Let me fucking hate you." Thomas begged. A red flush stained his neck as it crept up into his cheeks.
He let himself lean into Alfie's touch. Alfie let him. Thomas's breathing hitched as their feverish skin met.
His head came to rest in the cradle Alfred's neck.
Alfie dropped his gaze. A rough touch came up to rest on Thomas's chest. His fingers vied to touch at the racing pulse pulsating beneath Tommy's throat.
He wanted to comfort him. He wanted to comfort himself. To quell the screaming inside of his own head. His own heart.
"That would be easy though, wouldn't it?" Alfred closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. "You Shelby's come into people's lives with the sole purpose of fucking everything up," Alfie turned his head. His lips brushed Thomas's ear as he whispered. "You never expect anyone to stick around. You make sure we don't." Thomas gripped Alfie's waist tighter as if he feared the man would dissipate altogether.
"It's for the best, treacle."
"I won't survive it." Thomas's words are desperate.
Alfie pauses. His heartbeat deafens his own words.
"Then you will see me on the other side."