CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

               SILENCE HAD TAKEN TOMMY Shelby's lips by storm, and this was a sight that baffled Felicity — but there was no way she could force the words to come.

Stubbornness was a trait the both of them exhibited, as she had begrudgingly come to realise over the past couple of months. It was one that neither of them was willing to give up ― or perhaps neither of them were actually able to ― and this infuriated the both of them. Whereas he had resolved to not involve her in any of his newfound idiocies, this had led to his renowned closed―off behaviour to show itself once more throughout the last couple of days. . . which had resulted in her being just as difficult when it came to not jumping at every controversial quip that passed his lips. The pair found themselves to be snapping at the smallest of things and although each day ― or most of them, that was ― ended with them tangled in one another's embrace once again, neither could deny the petty lovers feud that had sparked.

Tommy was too stubborn to admit to her that there was such a thing, however, and she was too stubborn to try and push him to do so.

So they quarrelled over spilt drinks, bickered over one or the other being more distant than the day before, before sealing one another's lips with a kiss as they parted ways for the remainder of the day.

Now, as the day drew to a close and Felicity awaited the final trickle of men to waltz through the doors of the Garrison, she let her thoughts wander and a hum to play on her lips. Absent-minded and worn―out from standing behind the bar for the last couple of hours, she couldn't deny the boredom that was beginning to grow larger inside her. As decent as an employer that Harry was, Felicity found that she missed the idle chatter that she and Grace would have: lazy conversations that would be perfect to pass the time as the pair mopped up spillages with sopping towels or carried wobbling glasses in their hands from one end of the room to the other.

Grace.

Felicity knew what the blonde Irishwoman had done and she knew just how she had fucked Tommy's plan over, but that didn't stop Felicity from missing her former friend. Harry had yet to even begin asking around for another help behind the bar, so Felicity was often left to herself whilst he dealt with and served more private parties in the back room.

"Oi, blondie!" One man called to her now, pulling the girl from her thoughts so that she had to glance at him and his friend, as they had taken to spilling themselves over the edge of the bar. "Can't you get us more beer or somethin'?"

She paused, flicked her eyes to the clock beside her before meeting his again. "Nah ― go home."

"But―"

"It's too late and I'm not prying some half―dead man off the floor in half 'n' hour's time all because he drank too fuckin' much and got too big for his boots," Felicity told them firmly in response to their indignant pleas, her hands meeting her hips as she glared at them and nodded her head towards the door.

The man screwed his face up in tired, leery annoyance. "Suit yourself," he grumbled, before turning to his friend and shrugging. "'Might as well go somewhere else, then."

He trailed out of the door with the confidence of a man who would hardly recollect such a thing the next morning, and was followed soon by his friend alongside the final few men that remained. Felicity watched them exit before calling to Harry that she'd be taking a moment or so to herself outside. . . and so that is what she did. The golden―haired girl slipped out of the back door and the chill of January hit her instantaneously. She stumbled back against the building's stone―cold brick wall and released a sigh that had been building up in her lungs for God knows how long. Snow―white breath trailed off, up into the air, and the blonde girl stamped her feet to warm up as best as she could.

And, for the first time in a long while, Felicity was fully aware of just how tired she was of everything. Tired of waiting, tired of fighting, tired of this new, exhausting cycle of bickering then making amends by the time the day was out.

It wasn't as though there was anything she could do, however ― not when it came to Tommy. She had made the conscious decision to trust him all of those months ago ― hell, it was almost a year since that fateful day, which she could hardly believe ― and through that, love had grown and had eventually flourished. She couldn't back out now, not when everything was simply beginning to overwhelm her more than she had ever thought it would. It was idiotic, really.

Felicity Woods loved Thomas Shelby.

She knew that.

There wasn't anything else that would change that fact, either.

She knew that, too.

So she shook her head roughly in an attempt to clear her thoughts and returned back inside, praying that the night might be over soon so that she could return to her beloved's embrace and have those few short hours to themselves, without any cares in the world to trouble them for that period. Luckily enough, only a couple of customers remained at the bar and Harry looked as though he might kick them out into the rain at any moment's time, so Felicity bided her time and awaited the fast―approaching moment when she could be alone.

When the last of the drunken men had dispersed from the pub, Felicity let out a weary sigh and she half―heartedly pushed her curls back from her face as she turned to the man beside her.

"I'll lock up, Harry."

The barman didn't protest ― instead, he offered her thanks before gathering up his belongings and escaping out of the door and into the night's chill. Felicity was left to her thoughts once more as she stacked stained glasses and moved wordlessly around the room to tidy away strewn―around chairs.

She eventually buttoned up her coat and exited the Garrison, making sure to turn back to bolt the doors shut, but fumbling with her keys in the process.

"Evening," Tommy's voice called out to her ― soft and quiet as he took in the girl before him, the girl that he had ached to see for the entirety of the day.

Felicity couldn't help the faint smile that proceeded to grow upon her lips at the sound of his voice. She finished turning the key in the lock and once she'd dropped it once more into her pocket, the girl made her way over to where Tommy Shelby was leaning up against a wagon. His hands left his pockets as he straightened, and when she neared him, he tugged on her arm and pulled her into his chest so that he could press a light kiss to her forehead before they departed to go home.

"Where'd Harry go?" He asked as the pair walked the streets that were inked in midnight's darkness. Moonlight lit up their path and flooded the buildings of Small Heath so that they appeared to be coated in the light of a fairy ― a light that was so rarely seen in this dusty borough of Birmingham, and it was one that made everything look much more breathtakingly wonderful than the blonde girl would have ever anticipated it would.

"I offered to lock up," she answered simply. "He needs the rest, what with him not having another barmaid to help and share the hours."

She realised too late that it was a tentative brush over the topic of Grace's treachery — Felicity hadn't a clue as to how Tommy was taking the betrayal these days. Perhaps that was what had him so closed―off recently, although she doubted it. Even with her leaks of his plans, the Peaky Blinders had managed to fight Billy Kimber and win his crown all the same. So she forced away her head full of doubts that that was what had been keeping him quiet, and concluded that she hoped whatever was troubling him would soon be over.

How was she to know that the very thing he was hiding was what he assumed to be for her safety?

Danger was a broad subject ― one so broad that she hadn't assumed she was in any at all.

"How was your day?" Felicity chose to push away from the possibility of a conversation over Grace by beginning a new one. . . and when she turned her head for his delayed response, she caught the clouded, concerned assortment of emotions that flitted across his features.

"The same as any other."

Another dangerously closed—off answer that Felicity tried in earnest to ignore.

So she tried again. "Tommy?"

"Yes, love?" Distracted, Tommy turned his head downwards to meet her gaze. He frowned, perplexed by the expression before him ― one where she battled love with tired, weary impatience.

Although it made her heart swell, she fought to see past his casual use of the adoration―filled term. "You haven't been to see my father, have you?"

He almost startled at the abruptness of her question, but caught himself just in time. "Would it matter?"

"I thought we weren't worrying about him for now, that's all."

"You aren't worrying about him for now," Tommy countered. "Or you shouldn't be, anyway."

"But you are?"

The man nodded. "I have to."

At this, Felicity's annoyance grew and she let out an aggravated groan. "You don't have to do anything," she argued. "You said we'd leave it for a while, but here you are, trying to get yourself in more shit for no good reason."

"It's business."

"Business, my arse!" Her voice rose and she turned to face him properly. "Why can't you just take a short while away from everything and not get idiotically restless?"

"Felicity, leave it."

"Like hell I will," the golden―haired girl snapped immediately in response.

He took hold of her shoulders and lifted her chin with the tip of his thumb so that her gaze properly met his. 

Taken back at his intensity, Felicity reluctantly obliged and met his earnest, piercing stare with a repressed sigh.

"You will," Tommy said eventually. "You're going to leave it and we're going to go home, because that's the easiest way to deal with all this. . ." he threw a hand to the buildings before them, to the moon that had slunk away and hidden behind the inky clouds. "It's the easiest way to deal with all this shit without you getting hurt."

The girl frowned.

So often he infuriated her, with his constant battle for dominance against anyone who attempted to get in his way, and so often she found herself pushing past this because she knew that he did so with only two desires in his mind.

Power was the inevitable one, the one that would never disperse. Or rather, it was to prove to everyone that he was more than just a man who's spirit died in France, alongside so many others. To show that whilst both mud and his comrades' blood had once stained the crescents of his fingernails, he wasn't broken. Not in the way they assumed he would be.

The other just happened to be love.

And love blinds all — no matter how hard they try to push through its dangerous clouds.

"Just promise me one thing," Felicity whispered, her voice hushed and almost morphing into pleads.

"Stay safe. Please, for the love of God, stay safe."

He paused.

"You know I try. Everyday I try. Every fucking day, and every day I will try, but I can't promise. You know I can't."

Felicity shook her head in refusal to accept his words. "Stay safe for me, then," she begged.

Tommy Shelby took in the golden—haired girl before him as a sigh built up in his lungs. Far too innocent for the dust and grime of Small Heath. Far too pure to be mixed up with the Shelby clan. Far too good to be mixed with all the bad that Tommy knew resided in his heart.

"I promise, Lis."

And, for what felt like the first time in his life, he meant that with the entirety of his being.

AUTHOR'S NOTE
this took me so so so so long
to   write holy shit ― highkey
hating most of it but oh well <3
i couldn't wait to get it done so
that's why the ending is ewdfkj