#the boy in the window | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

notyour-valentine · 2 years

Text

The Boy in the Window 25 ~ Tommy Shelby X Reader (Series)

[Masterlist] [Series Masterlist]

Chapter Summary: (Y/N)'s stay at the sanatorium renders a lot of new experiences and truths, not just for her but for all of them.

Notes: It seems this story didn't want to let me go, so it is a long one. I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Warning: Canon conforming mention of violence. Illness. (18/21+). Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Expect spoilers for Peaky Blinders Season 1-4.

Wordcount: 7419

Part 25

[Previously]

There was something innately calming about the sound of the waves.

Again and again they brushed against the shore with the steadiness of a calming heart that had been beating since the beginning of time.

People came and went, even countries and kingdoms did, but the sea just kept coming.

Despite all her reluctance, (Y/N) was glad she had come here.

She now knew why poets and painters could spend hours staring at the infinite horizon. When the sun set, it was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen, turning the entire horizon golden red.

The air was different too. If she had thought Arrow House an improvement from Birmingham, this was another sphere.

In truth, she hadn’t believed it would actually come to pass, not until they actually stepped onto the boat that would carry them away.

And then there was no return.

Dr. Wood had been rather broad with his offers.

They, and especially their costs, had seemed impossibly daunting to her as all she could think of were the household budget she had calculated her life on for the last seven years, but Tommy dismissed it all immediately.

“We don’t care about how much it costs.”

She would have argued vehemently against it, because she cared a lot, but for him money wasn’t even worth discussing.

Tommy had shot down Margate as soon as it was mentioned, and even Torbay was not up to his standards.

Since the summer was coming to a close, he feared it might be too cold on the English coast for some of the very lengthy and rather daunting list of treatments, most of which she couldn’t even pretend to understand.

But that only left foreign offers which were equally frightening as they were expensive.

She had tried to argue for England once more, but Tommy had presented an immovable case for a different location, which had startled her into stunned silence.

She would have thought no man that had ever been to France would ever look favourably about the country again. Not Tommy, apparently.

That had left them with another problem.

She thought his pick had given her a way out, after all, travelling with two small children was one thing, but doing so in a foreign country was a whole other thing entirely.

And she wouldn’t have a way of communicating with the doctors and nurses and other people there. Neither she, nor Frances or Lisa spoke a word of French.

His “Well I do.”, had disarmed her completely, but he had only shrugged off her disbelief. “At least that way you won’t have anyone talking behind your back.”

And now here she was, staring out into the Mediterranean sea.

When he had said that money was irrelevant, she should have been warned.

Even on the boat she had a bedroom larger than any room in her old house in Small Heath, with every comfort afforded to them.

There even was a proper dining room with white tablecloths and silver cutlery for them to use, although nothing baffled her more than the fact that they thought it a good idea to have them use real glasses on a boat.

Emma and Charlie weren't the only children travelling in first class but apparently the only ones most other passengers had seen eat at the same table as their parents, but there was no way she'd let them out of her sight on a boat- not for a single moment.

Unlike Charlie, Emma shared her sentiment, and hardly ever let go of either her or Tommy for more than a minute.

And Lord help them if anyone even thought of leaving her visual radius for some undisclosed location-

They were all glad to have dry land under them once more, but for varying reasons.

The place Tommy had chosen made her want to cut and run immediately.

Yes, it was a sanitarium, with a whole army of doctors and nurses standing by and even a few professors.

But at the same time it was like one of those luxury hotels with the red carpets and balconies in front of the entrance- or at least she imagined them to be.

After all, which hospital had butlers and footmen? Had chandeliers in the dining room? Black tie dinners, a concert hall and a casino on the grounds for entertainment and already prepared accomodation for lady's maids and valets?

But it still was a medical facility, and so on the first day she had a thorough examination, after they had spent the first night in the villa- yes, villa- on the grounds of the sanatorium which was just for their use only and had housed many a titled guest before them, although catered to by chefs and waited on by servants to the point where Emma tugged at the arm of the man waiting at the door, asking him rather bluntly if he didn't have anything better to do than just stare at the opposite wall.

Not only did they provide food and service, (Y/N) was also met with an entire closet of robes, gowns and bath clothes, but throughout their stay she hadn't touched those.

She had fought tooth and nail but Tommy had insisted on sorting them all out with an appropriate wardrobe and it was far easier, she found, to accept these things if they were given by him and not some stranger.

A great many things were easier with Tommy around. He was also with her for the examination, not only as a translator, but also as a guardian.

She hated it, hated being fussed over, being treated like a fragile little thing or a child, despised the way they were only ever so kind and ever so forthcoming it seemed a little bit dishonest, or it would have done if she didn’t know that Tommy held his hand (and his money) over her, over them all.

The fact that there were no other children to be seen anywhere, and that they, as two unmarried people were given leave to practically live together without even an eyebrow raised told her one thing above all else: they had been grounded by a lot of money.

On the second day, after a schedule of treatments was worked out, he introduced her to an English speaking nurse called Clèmence, that would have been paid a lot of money to attend her exclusively and work as a translator while he kept the children entertained throughout the day.

Despite taking on that task, he still made sure to check in on her whenever he could, let alone question her thoroughly once they joined paths, as well as thoroughly reading through all her medical reports while conversing with the doctors and the nurses daily.

She didn’t miss how he always tipped the lower workers until their eyes shone, and she wasn’t as foolish to think he was merely paying for carrying bags, holding doors or rubbing her feet.

Apparently one could buy not just information but loyalty too, it seemed, as he left nothing to chance.

It wouldn't surprise her if some worker kept a secret log of the times she had coughed to hand in to Tommy at the end of the day.

Every time she saw yet another bill slip from his fingers, her chest tightened.

None of this came cheap, in fact, she knew it would cost him a small fortune, and that was just the money, and not the fact that he was here with her, because she had been too afraid to go at it alone.

So it was in guilt that she bit her tongue and let them do whatever they wanted, whatever he encouraged.

They put her in salt baths, or in others were there steam rose until her hair got all frizzy. They rubbed oils and creams on her chest and back before placing warmed stones on it. They rubbed her hands and feet (although she had no idea how that would help her lungs) and had her inhale all sorts of greenery until her eyes burned and her nose ran, which according to them was a good sign as it meant “It is loosening the infection, Madame.”

She did not feel very much like a Madame, nor did the idea of it loosening the infection seem as preferable to her when she was blowing her nose at near by-minute pace.

They didn’t stop there, no, there were scented bandages, massages, and even some ghastly little pool of water that only ever reached below her knee and was freezing cold which they made her walk through no matter how much she shivered - for her circulation, apparently, and encouraged her to spend time walking by the sea (an activity Tommy and the children greatly approved of, which made it a lot less tedious).

To her own surprise she caught herself that even Cyril would have enjoyed this.

She would have - could have complained, but in truth, she could see it working.

In a way, bit by bit, day by day, all the warm baths and steaming sessions had melted a weight off of her shoulders, had freed her from the invisible rope around her chest and calmed her racing mind.

For the first time in forever, she found herself sleeping through the night and waking up with energy instead of exhaustion.

It was a strange thing to experience, one she could not put into words.

But she missed the children, even if she had them before breakfast and after tea.

She was with nurses and doctors, while they were out there somewhere with Tommy, having a proper holiday.

It was restlessness more than anything that drove Tommy out of the confinements of the sanatorium with the children.

The first few days he had spent at the beach, ever the perfectionist, until both children could swim to his satisfaction, returning them with wide smiles, dry hands, sun kissed skin and the sweetest kind of exhaustion after an entire day in the waves.

Then, once they were sufficiently proficient, he took them out on a boat one day, exploring the smaller caves at the coastline, just out of view.

“There were so many crabs, Mummy!”

“Hundreds and hundreds!”

On the days where they weren’t in the water, they collected sea shells and on the next, drove holes in them with heated needles and made a string.

The day after that, they returned form having been fishing with some bounty that Tommy refused to hand over to the cook and instead insisted on grilling themselves.

He even taught them how to remove the bones in one bit.

(Y/N) mashed the fish up all the same with her fork to make sure neither Emma or Charlie would even risk swallowing a bone.

Sometimes he’d take them further away from the sea, like the time they went grape picking or the time Emma returned to her saying that they had ridden a donkey and Charlie assuring her that his father had said perhaps they’d get one too.

Every day, for them, was a new adventure with Tommy’s guidance, and while it made her heart swell more than she would have thought possible it did hurt that she wasn’t a part of all these memories they were creating.

She had thought Tommy would get bored, eventually, but it seemed to be the opposite. He sometimes told her of his plans before hand, the things he wanted to do, the places he wanted to take them, what he wanted them to know and learn.

All these things, she soon realised, where things he had learned on the road, experiences shaped by his own childhood and in passing them on, he seemed younger than his years, and day by day she saw more of the boy next door in him, even if it was only in flashes, and only ever when it was the four of them.

“It was a proper castle, Mummy, not a palace!”, Emma insisted over dinner, her food not nearly as interesting as the story she could tell her.

“Because castles are for battle.”, Charlie said. “They’ve got bigger walls and a drawbridge and teeny-tiny slots from where they’d shoot the arrows out of!”

“And - and there were armour a long long time ago there were real knights there, with swords and horses!”

The story about the tourneys had captured both their imagination incredibly and dominated the dinner conversation for almost it’s entirety.

“That sounds like quite the wonderful day you’ve had.”, she admitted, before nodding to the two unfinished plates of food. They had to eat before it got cold entirely.

They had not even considered the black tie dining room for more than a moment, as there stiffness and silence ruled.

And in what world would they prefer that to Emma and Charlie’s excited chatter?

“I’m quite jealous.”

Tommy shrugged slightly.

“If you’re good we might take you with us on our next trip.”, he quipped, watching her from across the table.

“I am being good!”, (Y/N) insisted. “I’ve done everything they’ve said and let them do everything they’ve wanted.”

“Didn’t do the salt cave.”, he muttered under his breath, tapping the ashes of his cigarette into his ashtray.

“Well that’s different!”, (Y/N) argued. “There’s no point in that!”

His eyebrow shot up.

“It’s only worked for hundreds of years.”

She glared at him and huffed.

“Tommy - it’s ridiculous. I just can’t imagine that there is any use in me sitting in a salt cave.”

“What’s a salt cave?”, Charlie wanted to know.

“It’s a cave made from salt.”, Tommy said.

Charlie stared at him for a moment, but then his narrowed eyes glanced at the table salt, squinting suspiciously.

“That salt?”, he asked.

Tommy nodded.

“But that’s soft! You can’t make walls that soft!”

“Apparently they are.”, (Y/N) said. “A whole cave filled with salt and they want to dump me in the middle of it.”

To make her point, she took the little silver salt spoon and shoved it right in the centre of the bowl, where it remained standing.

Emma and Charlie stared at the tiny spoon for a second, before she looked up as she grinned.

“Like they do with the fish at the shops?”

“Yes.”, (Y/N) agreed with a chuckle. “Mummy’ll be just like a pickled herring by the end of it.”

Both children laughed, but Tommy didn’t think it was funny in the slightest.

“The salt makes the air different and that’s good for the lungs.”

Another pastime of his, while the children were sleeping, was ploughing through medical works and research.

“So me sniffing salt would have the same effect?”, she joked, but Tommy only threw her a dark glare - until his face suddenly softened.

He leaned over, a glint in his eyes.

“How about you do the salt cave and then we’ll all go on a little trip.”

(Y/N) hummed, trying to control her facial reaction.

She didn’t see the point, and the process of spending the better part of an hour stuck in a literal cave was far from appealing, but at the same time she burned to see something else rather than the sanatorium and the waves, even if it was just for a day.

“Can we go to the salt cave too?”, Charlie wanted to know, twisting the silver spoon.

“I suppose so.”, Tommy said with a shrug.

It looked, well, it didn't really look like anything, or at least not like something she had ever seen before.

The front part had the appearance of a hotel lobby, with a large desk and a waiting area. Of course, if one was travelling with Tommy Shelby a waiting area was not necessary.

They had been expecting them.

"Right through there.", Tommy translated as a man dressed all in white, accompanied by two women, and guided them further into the earth and away from the sunlight.

"You don't have to come.", She assured Tommy, watching his eyes glance back to the exit.

"Someone has to watch the children.", He mumbled, staring at his feet.

The lanterns reflected on the white walls, which were void of any natural light source, giving the entire corridor an unnatural golden glow.

There was another room, where (Y/N) was asked to take her hat off so that she could be more comfortable.

Then they were led through to the cave.

It was a strange place to be in.

The walls, of course, weren't smooth or polished but entirely covered in rough, glittering salt.

There was something otherworldly about this place, about the way the air smelled, and the lights flickered.

It was beautiful but in an unnerving sort of way, like some parallel place in a fairy tale world where humans like them had no place.

"Oh Mummy!", Emma gasped, her eyes wide and round as plates as she tried to take everything in at once.

The same awe was written all over Charlie's face as his hand found hers.

They had to move around some salt pillars to reach the loungers that had been prepared for them.

Four of them were ready, although both children would be able to fit on one easily and she doubted Tommy's would see use any time soon.

"They want you to sit down and take off your shoes.", He translated.

"Emma and Charlie too?", She asked, looking around at the children.

Charlie was running his fingers over the wall, feeling the textures while Emma was taking a more direct approach.

Her head snapped around when she heard Emma gag and cry out, seeing her jumping on the spot up and down, her face torn in agony.

"Mummy- it's really all salt!", she wailed

Stretching out her tongue she clawed at it with her fingers.

"Emma!", She gasped, deserting her place and running over to her daughter who was still gagging and coughing.

One minute she wasn't looking and her daughter had to go and lick the wall of the age old cave.

Her eyes swam with tears and she feared she would throw up all over the sparkling white salt.

While she rubbed her back, Tommy was barking orders.

It was strange hearing a language that was spoken in a brighter, more melodic voice by all those other people around her being twisted around his rough way of speaking.

A moment later they returned with a glass of water.

"Rinse your mouth!", She instructed, guiding the glass to her lips.

"Like when we're brushing teeth - good girl."

Emma pulled a face and began jumping up and down as now the taste of saltwater instead of just salt filled her mouth.

She hadn't thought of that and with nothing for her to spit into, (Y/N) told her to spit it into her hands.

A moment later, Tommy crouched down next to her with a bowl for the water Emma had spat out and a towel for her to dry her hands with.

It took three more rinses for the salt to get off of Emma's tongue and even then she was weepy.

"Well I don't really know what to tell you, my darling,", (Y/N) confessed, stroking her cheek. "What else did you expect?"

Emma pouted and leaned into her.

"Here.", Tommy muttered, digging in his pocket and pulling out a few caramel candies.

"This should help."

"Can I get one too?", Charlie asked.

"Course you do, my boy.", Tommy said, handing it to him.

Emma unwrapped it and handed Tommy the paper unceremoniously, who made it disappear in his pocket.

"Right, are we all good now?", He asked.

Only then did (Y/N) glance at the three other people in the cave who had been watching all this mayhem unfold.

It made her cheeks burn as she quickly averted her eyes.

Best get on with it now.

Once they were sat on the loungers, the nurses began to wrap a scarf around her shoulders a few times, covering her all the way up to her neck, before helping her lie down. Then they took the blanket and wrapped her legs in it tightly until she felt rather idiotic.

One blanket each was enough to wrap Charlie and Emma up, who giggled.

"We look like caterpillars!", Charlie giggled, wiggling around.

"None of that,", (Y/N) warned, "I don't want you falling off."

Especially since none of you can use your hands.

Although there was some truth in Charlie's words.

She did feel like a caterpillar.

The recommended silence lasted a decent five minutes before the children got bored.

"I packed my bag,", (Y/N) announced over their squirms and complaints, "and in it I packed my favourite straw hat."

Emma took over immediately.

"I packed my bag and in it I packed my favourite straw hat and sweeties!"

Then it was Charlie's turn.

"I packed my bag and in it I packed my favourite straw hat, sweeties and the story book!"

And so round and round they went.

But as the game went on, she didn't miss Tommy becoming ever more restless.

He had refused to be bundled up like the rest of them, and was only sitting on the side of the lounder. Bit by bit his breathing had gone heavier, even if his eyes were locked on the floor.

Smoking wasn't allowed in here but he was twisting the silver case between his fingers, fighting the desire.

It took her longer than she would have thought to be able to free her arm, or at least her hand from their bindings.

"Your turn!", Charlie reminded her.

"My turn?", (Y/N) asked, slightly startled.

"I packed my bag and in it I packed my favourite straw hat, sweeties and the story book, cake, chocolate cake, hot chocolate, some tea, Duffie, Mrs Tatters, a blanket, Cyril, a horse, a blanket-"

She stared at Emma as her memory broke off.

For three seconds she tried to think, but her mind was blank. Then Emma giggled.

"You're out!", She announced.

"What did I forget?", (Y/N) asked, glancing at Tommy.

"I packed you, Mummy!", She giggled, before running down the list.

"I packed my favourite straw hat, sweeties and the story book, cake, chocolate cake, hot chocolate, some tea, Duffie, Mrs Tatters, a blanket, Cyril, a horse, Mummy, all of us and the fire rocks.", Emma concluded.

"Tommy?", She asked softly to get his attention while Charlie eas beginning his list.

While Emma ran through it as if taking a single breath would break the spell, he took his time.

Tommy's eyes snapped up immediately, and the shine in them startled her, but once he realised there was no threat, he exhaled softly and swallowed hard.

"C'mere.", She asked, shifting slightly on the lounger in a very inelegant and rather humiliating fashion, to make a bit of room.

Slowly, he approached her.

"Duffie, Mrs Tatters, a blanket, Cyril, a horse, Mummy, all of us and the fire rocks and a big fluffy pillow!", Charlie concluded, while Tommy sat down on the edge.

It dipped under his weight.

Slowly, she laced her hand with his, feeling the slight trembling that he had tried to hide by playing with the lighter or clenching them into fists.

"It's perfectly fine if you want to wait outside."

Although he inhaled sharply, he shook his head.

"'m staying.", He promised, giving her hand a little squeeze, and holding on just as tightly. But his eyes roamed around the closed ceiling.

He was silent, and apart for the shaking in his hands, completely still, but she knew there was a war waging in his head.

Bringing the children had been a bad idea, because otherwise he wouldn’t have had to be here.

So she tried a different approach.

With a sigh, she rolled her head to the side, glancing down at their handiwork.

"The things I do for you.", She told him with a cheery voice. “Look at me - all wrapped up like a pastry about to go into the oven.”

Tommy glanced down the length of her body and reached over to tuck one side in a little tighter on her other shoulder, pulling it up to her neck.

"You should rest - that’s what they said. Rest or sleep.”, he reminded her. “I'll make sure they're not licking any walls in the meantime.”

(Y/N) sighed in deep exasperation.

"That was certainly something for the memory books.", She mumbled, glancing at where Emma and Charlie were still packing imaginary bags.

The corner of Tommy's lip twitched in promise of a smile.

Then he stroked that strand of hair out of her face which had been irritating her slightly, but was impossible for her to remove due to the wrapping.

He let his hands linger on her cheek.

"Close your eyes, I’ll watch them.", He promised, trailing his thumb over her cheek while she did the same with her own on his knuckles.

“And who’ll watch you?”, she asked, although her eyelids were getting rather heavy.

All these morning swims they had her doing made her welcome the afternoon rests.

“Well,”, he said, “I can always wake you up eh?”

That didn’t sound all too believable to her, more like a trick to get her to close her eyes, but when he began stroking her cheek in that calm and steady rhythm, it grew more difficult to fight.

Up and down, he stroked, up and down. Up and down.

Until sleep claimed her.

Tommy kept his promise, although not before consulting with all the doctors and nurses amd Clémentine.

But once permission had been granted, he saw no reason to delay.

The South of France was populated by large villas, hotels, and country clubs, or at least that was what he had thought, but within just a sort drive away from the compound, Tommy took them to a different sort of place.

It was a small fishing village, with narrow roads that reminded her of home, only that Small Heath had never been so clean, and to her the light brown stone walls and the orange-reddish rooftops were beyond charming, especially since the city didn’t overwhelm her.

It wasn’t too large or too expensive or too strange.

It was a small city for small people that wouldn’t make her feel inconsequential.

He had chosen it well.

The size, scale and tranquillity of the city (and the fact that there were no cars allowed) allowed them to let the children run a little ahead, as long as they always waited at the corners.

While Tommy stuck to his usual dark suits, even if the Southern heat forced him to abandon the jacket, he had gotten the three of them appropriate summer wardrobes, which for her meant a good dozen white and pale dresses with wide brimmed hats she had tried to reject, but he would hear none of it.

Now, they kept her face in the shade, which was a relief, while the light fabric didn’t feel suffocating at all.

For little girls it meant smaller hats and pale dresses. She didn’t fail to notice that Emma often wore a different dress when they returned to the one she had set out in, undoubtedly making either Tommy or the poor washer women regret ever having put her in pale dresses, but now she looked like a little angel, with the white dress, straw woven hat, and matching white ribbons that were tied around it.

With Charlie it had been a little more difficult as the boys fashion was still all sailor's uniforms and there was no way Tommy would allow his son to walk around like a navy soldier.

So Charlie was dressed like a right little gentleman, with shorts of course, but a shirt and vest of his own, even if his jacket hung right next to his father’s over his right, while she held onto the left one.

He had offered her his hand to help with some rather dangerous looking cobblestones and after nearly walking the entire street the realisation dawned on her that neither she nor he had pulled back, and by then there was no point anymore.

They strolled around for a bit and entered the church, where she helped the children each light their candles, the way they always did, while Tommy watched.

A little later they had some refreshments in the shade of some jasmine trees, with Charlie and Emma sharing a slice of apple tart, and trying to compete for the amount of “Merci”s they could fit into the brief interaction with the waiter.

By the end of their short stop, they had the entire staff wrapped around their little finger and offered the children a sweet on their way out, while praising them being well behaved for “English Children” (according to Tommy’s translation).

Then they strolled down to the harbour, where vendors not only sold fish and seafood, but also their craftswork, sweets, honey and other produces.

“I should have brought a basket.”, she said as she saw all the little stalls.

“I can buy you a basket.”, Tommy offered, nodding towards a spot where someone was weaving their own.

“No thank you!”, she quickly said, but she smiled at him.

Since there were more people around here, both children needed to hold their hands again as they made their way down the line of little stalls.

Before long Emma proudly sported a bag of sweets which she had only received on the premise that she won’t have more than one until after lunch, while Charlie had begged for his father to buy him that one large seashell which made the sounds of the sea - “Really, Dad - listen!”

He wasn’t disappointed.

At the next stall, another thing caught Emma’s eye.

“How come they’re round and these aren't?”, she asked.

The man was selling pearls, and while a part of his stall sold them already set as earrings or necklaces or bracelets, another part showed them still unset, with even the possibility of picking out a bunch from bowls, those that were deemed imperfect.

One bowl was for the round pearls, the others for those in different shapes.

“Do you know how pearls are made, Emma?”, Tommy asked.

“They’re made?”, she asked suspiciously. “They’re not stones?”

He shook his head.

“Do you remember when we took the boat a few days ago, when we went to that tavern with the oar at the wall? Where we had mussels to eat?”

Her head snapped around at that.

“You two ate mussels?”, she asked them surprised.

“They’re a bit squishy.”, Charlie told her “and Dad had to get them out of the shells for us.”

Did he now?

“The shells are like the home of the mussles and sometimes a little bit of sand gets in and sand feels itchy, doesn't it? So to stop it from itching, the mussels put layers and layers and layers of softness and bit by bit it gets all smooth and pretty.”

He let Emma and Charlie both think on that until he continued.

“Depending on the sand and where it is in the mussel, the shape changes. That’s why every single pearl is unique and none is like the other. Even when you look at the necklaces, no two pearls are the same.”

To bring down his point, he held up one of the singular pearls and showed them a little niggle.

“So if anyone ever tries to sell you a string of pearls and they all look and feel exactly the same, you know they’re trying to cheat you. If it’s just perfect its not real.”

“Truly? Every single one?”, Emma asked.

“Go have a look at the strings.”

They set to work immediately, analysing every single one in regards to shape and colouring.

“Goodness,”, she said softly as he joined her. “I didn’t know that.”

“Now you do.”

“Think I should get one for her? A necklace or a bracelet?”, he asked after a while.

“For Emma?”, she asked.

He nodded, but she shook her head immediately.

“Don’t say it’s too expensive.”, he argued preemptively, “they’re far cheaper here than they are in England.”

“Well, it’s not just the price,”, she insisted under her breath. “Emma’s five. She’s far too young for precious jewellery. She’ll lose it put it on Mrs Duffie or her dolls or maybe even the pony.”

The thought made him smile just barely.

“We can’t give her pearls until she’s eighteen, or sixteen at the earliest. She’ll have to understand and know how to take care of it properly.”

At that moment, she was called away again as one pearl apparently looked a little bit like a muffin.

They continued to stroll through the market but Tommy trailed behind slightly, the jackets in one hand, and the bought goods in the other.

Later, when the children were running circles around an orange tree, she joked that they’d probably sleep until noon next morning, but all she got in response was a mumbled “Probably.”

The thought it was perhaps the heat or the exhaustion or even boredom. It bothered her, but she couldn’t ask with the children around.

They reached the sanatorium rather late, but by the time she had the children washed and ready, they had prepared some dinner which Tommy had turned down in favour of a walk.

So it was just her eating with them and putting them to bed.

Her prediction had been right and they fell asleep even before she had finished the first song.

(Y/N) sung it to the end nonetheless, before kissing each child and leaving their shared bedroom.

The jacket resting over the back of the chair told her, he must’ve returned and she saw him but a moment later, standing on the balcony and staring out at where the waves were coming in timeless certainty.

Again. And again. And again.

The stars reflected on the shiny surface in hundreds little silver dots. The only red one was that of his cigarette as he brought it to his lips again and again.

His sleeves were rolled up again and his other hand was shoved deeply into the pocket of his trousers.

“The children are sleeping.”, she told him.

For a few seconds there was just silence, with only a nod in recognition of her words.

When nothing more came, she swallowed.

“Alright,”, she sighed, “I’m going to bed too.”

She had only just turned, when he spoke again.

“Wait.”, he asked, flicking his cigarette off of the balcony as he spoke. “I need to talk to you.”

“Oh?”, she asked, as her heart began to thunder.

Tommy stepped back inside and sat down on the sofa, arms braced on his knees, and his fingers twisting.

The sight was long familiar and made her swallow hard.

But all she could do was sit down next to him and wait.

It took a while for him to gather his courage to speak.

“You know,”, he began, staring at his feet, “these last few days, when I was with the children, or even today when they mucked about with the waiters, they keep thinking-”

He cut himself off and shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

“Why did you say what you did at the pearl vendors?”, he demanded to know, changing his approach so quickly she had trouble following.

“What?”, she gasped.

“Why would you say that?”, he repeated, a little calmer this time but no less desperate.

She raked her brain for what she could have done wrong, or said to hurt him.

Emma and the pearls, she thought.

He had been trying to do something nice and she had shut him down.

“I’m sorry.”, she said quickly, “I didn’t mean any harm, I just thought she was a little too young to have pearls of her own.”

His jaw clenched.

“So that’s why you said it? When she’s sixteen - like a figure of speech?”

Now she was entirely lost, and she felt herself getting upset too.

“Well no. I said it because at sixteen she’ll be old enough to take care of pearls. I know you have the money but that doesn’t mean you should be wasteful and for me giving a pearl necklace to a child is wasteful!”

He shook his head vehemently and reached over to take her hands in his.

“No, no that’s not - that’s not what I’m saying. That’s not what I’m trying to say!”, he mumbled, holding onto her hands.

“Then what are you trying to say?”, she asked.

The silence hung between them like a wall, and only he could breach it.

For a moment she thought he wanted to pull his hand away, but he changed his mind and held hers tighter.

“It’s a long time until Emma’s sixteen.”, he finally said. “That’s over ten years, (Y/N).”

She stared at him, his ruffled hair, his shining eyes, the way he alternated between taking open mouthed breaths like he had just run a mile or clenched his jaw to the point she feared it would snap. Even his cheeks were flushed.

“I don’t understand.”, she admitted.

He swallowed hard once more.

“You said we can’t give her pearls until she’s sixteen.”

(Y/N) stared at him in disbelief.

She had said that, had said every word then just like she understood them now, but the eye opening meaning he sought to put in his words escaped her.

“What are you trying to tell me, Tommy?”, she asked.

He huffed impatiently and averted his eyes once more.

“I need to know if you just said that or if you meant it… if it really is something you want.”, he said.

Mean what?

But before she could speak up, he already continued, the muscle in his cheek twitching.

“Because it’s what I want.”, he whispered, so softly the night breeze might have drowned it out if she hadn’t been hanging onto his every word.

“Because I want to be around when she’s sixteen, and Charlie too.”, he confessed, and once he had started, he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

“I want to see them go to school and university and all that other stuff we didn’t get to. I want to see them grow up. I want to - I want to look out me office window and see them race their horse sup the drive way even though you told them not to. I want to meet the people who they will become. I want all of that, and everything along the way - the good, the bad, all of it.”

His eyes met hers and they shone with tears.

“I want to be there, (Y/N), do you understand?”

“Of course you do.”, she said softly, speaking up against the lump in her throat as she offered him a small smile.

“No!”, he argued, “not of course. Not of course!”

Tommy shook his head once more and shifted until he was facing towards her, even if he couldn’t meet her eyes.

“When I wake up,”, he whispered, “I think about them - about what we’ll do today, about if they’ll like it. I think about watching them play, and hearing them laugh. About what things I should teach them and wonder how quickly they pick up on all that, about watching you watching them.”

He took a shuddering breath.

“I wake up and I know I get to do all that a- and it makes me want to get up.”

Tommy drew trembling circles in the palm of her hand.

“It’s been a long time since I wanted to get up in the mornings.”

Now, finally, she understood, and her eyes began to burn.

He took a shaking breath.

“Since I did it because I had something to look forward to and not just because I had to or because everything will fall apart if I didn’t, but because I wanted to.”

Oh Tommy, she thought and wanted nothing more than to pull him into her arms and hold him, but he wasn’t finished, and she didn’t dare interrupt him, not now.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he gathered himself again, at least to the point where he could look at her again.

“So I need to know,”, he said, the voice of the businessman returning, “I need to know you’re alright with that, with me…with me being involved, me teaching her things, me holding her, because it is what I want, but I also know I’m not much good, (Y/N).”

He had to clear his throat before continuing. “Not nearly as good with her as you are with Charlie or in general and I’m not half the man her father was, but I want to be there. O-only if you don’t mind.”

“Why would I mind?”, (Y/N) asked, her hand reaching up to cup his cheek, but he pulled it away, returning it to her lap.

He wanted matters settled and settled properly with the same dedication he showed his other ventures.

“Because you know what I am- how I am.”, Tommy reminded her. “It’s not an easy life to live around me. And it won’t be the same as it would be with someone else.”

“I know.”

That was all she said and these two little words made his lip tremble again.

But he needed more, more confirmation, more certainty.

Tommy almost buckled over at her words, taking deep and calming breaths as he ran his hand through his hair again.

“Fuck,”, he mumbled - “that was harder to ask than I thought it would me.”

That made her smile.

“Why?”, she asked, stroking a strand of hair out of his face.

This time he let her.

“Because I was afraid you’d say no.”, he told her blankly.

“I need something, (Y/N), something to hold onto, to drown out the noise when it gets loud again - I need something to come home to and-”

He broke off and shook his head.

“I need a home. Charlie needs a home and for all this time it was just a fucking house that might as well have been a backroom in some inn. I need something to come home to, but I want it to be you.”

She had opened her mouth to respond but he cut her off before she could speak.

“You and me.”

“And them.”, she reminded him, nodding towards the door to the children’s bedroom.

He lifted his gaze and nodded and for the first time during their conversation she could spot some sense of calm wash over him, not enough to drown out the worries, fears and confessions he had held within him and placed in front of her, but enough to dilute them bit by bit.

“It’s not just that. I- I want it to be us again.”, he said, giving her hands a little squeeze. "I need you to know that but I understand that things have changed, I've done things too and - well. I understand if you prefer it to be a different way, the way it's now with us as friends or... or whatever this is now or anything else, I'm alright with that."

He broke off to let himself breathe.

"Being around them, being around you - that's all I want.", he whispered, "in any way you'd have me.. You don't have to decide nor or ever, just...just so you know."

He had been so honest with her, pouring out his heart, probably more than he would have thought he would at the beginning of their conversation.

It would be unfair if she just left it at mere acceptance, because acceptance wouldn’t be right, not nearly, to capture the relief nor the way her heart had threatened to burst out of her chest unable to handle all the emotions his words had caused to stir inside her, good and bad.

Besides, what if she wanted him to know?

“Tommy,”, she said softly, making his head turn back to her. “I want it to be us too.”

The End.

I would like to thank every single person who has read, liked, shared and commented on this story. While I had a rough idea of where I wanted to go, you all knowing or unknowing had a hand in the way this story and the characters in it developed! Without your encouragement, I never would have managed to finish a story, which in total has over 117 000 words. I had such fun creating these characters and their stories, the way I've always had with writing, but no one prepared me for the amount of fun it would be to see other people react to this story.

So I want to thank you all for letting me experience the story through your eyes!

All my love,

Val

P.S. These four were my companions all throughout this summer, so while we probably all need a little break from each other, it would be very rude not to pop in from time to time, even if its just for a oneshot or headcanon or something

Taglist

Overall

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @chlorrox @watercolorskyy @books-livre @quarterpastmidnight @lilyevanswhore @polishcrazyone @zablife @just-a-harmless-patato @stevie75 @flyingjosephine-blog

Tommy

@knowledgefulbutterfly @babayaga67 @signorellisantichrist @lespendy @geeksareunique

#valentineswritings #the boy in the window #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby fic #thomas shelby fic #peaky blinders imagine

708 notes · View notes