So, I've been writing this fic for the last couple months and I'm finally ready to share it. I've got 35k of it squirreled away, but most of it takes place much later on in the fic. Tommy/Madeline obviously, but just as a heads up there is some onesided Madeline/Grace and the possibility of Tommy/Madeline/Grace. Also, I don't speak any french, so please forgive any mistakes on that front. Hopefully you all enjoy.
"Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?" A deep, husky voice asked, completely butchering the words.
Madeline Clarkson laughed. She couldn't help it.
"Your accent is atrocious," she said, turning to face the man who had just done such a terrible job propositioning her. "Not to mention that it's entirely too formal for what you're trying to get at."
His eyes were a piercing, icy blue set above sharp cheekbones. He had the dark circles under his eyes and the hollow cheeks of most of the soldiers. His full lips were quirked up at the corner in a barely there smirk.
"You're an odd one to be criticizing my accent, what with being so far from home. What's an American girl like you know about French?"
His tone was teasing, but there a challenge in his eyes that Madeline couldn't ignore.
"I'm a United States Signal Corps Operator facilitating communication between the French and American commands," she told him, straightening her back and angling her chair so he could better see her uniform. "If my French is good enough to translate command decisions, I think it's good enough to know when I'm being propositioned poorly."
"I didn't realize I was dealing with a professional," he said with a grin, but there was genuine respect in his eyes. "How would you recommend I improve my technique?"
Madeline smiled, charmed in spite of herself.
"Well, it's normally polite to start by at least introducing yourself."
"Thomas Shelby," he said, holding out his hand.
"Madeline Clarkson," she said, reaching out and shaking it firmly, instead of letting him bring it to his lips as he had clearly planned.
"Enchante, mademoiselle," he said with an amused twist of his lips, butchering the phrase once again.
"You're doing it on purpose now," Madeline told him, laughing. "You have to be."
He pulled out at chair at the table where she had been sat reading, pulling out a packet of cigarettes. He held one out to her in a silent question, and she shook her head. He shrugged and lit the cigarette, putting it to his lips and taking a long drag before sprawling in his chair.
"Do I?" he asked, a brow quirked.
"Yes. I refuse to believe anyone is actually that awful."
"Not all of us can be signal corps operators who get to practice every day. Some of us are stuck in trenches or down in tunnels."
And with that they were off, Madeline's book entirely forgotten in favor of her companion. They traded stories back and forth, Madeline talking about her duties as a signal operator while Tommy discussed exactly what the tunnelers were meant to accomplish.
She did not speak of the thrill she felt at the switchboard, the excitement of not knowing what the next moment would bring. She did not speak of the crushing weight of the responsibility her position gave her, knowing that men's lives hung in the balance of the information she passed on, that one slip of the tongue could mean death for dozens, hundreds. She didn't speak of the frustrations she felt as a woman, looked down upon and coddled because of her gender while she sat there and did a job men could not do.
Those confessions would come later.
He did not speak of the terrible tension in the tunnels, knowing every moment of digging could be his last, waiting for the walls around him to crumble and throwing him into a desperate fight for his life. Of how after so long under ground he forgot what the sun on his face felt like. Of the wonder and terror of the soldier's minute.
Those confidences would come later.
Instead they talked of routine in glib tones that betrayed nothing of the ordeal of the everyday. Madeline talked of learning French at her grandmother's knee, and Tommy spoke of his gypsy mother, of learning romany in the home. They traded words and phrases back and forth with good-natured mockery. When the sun began to set, Madeline inquired of his plans for the rest of his leave.
"Drinking, fucking, and fighting," Tommy replied. "That's all a soldier ever does on leave."
"So you just come up to girls and ask them if they want to fuck? How's that working out for you?"
"Pretty well," he said with a grin, taking a drag from his cigarette.
Madeline arched her brow.
"We're having a conversation, aren't we?" he said with a smirk.
Madeline sat back, surprised, before considering his words. They were having a conversation. Quite an engaging one. One that wouldn't have been nearly so lively if it weren't for how it had begun. Madeline would have simply done her best to brush him off politely before returning her attention to her book. Instead, here she was, nearly an hour later, enjoying herself immensely.
"I can't decide if you're incredibly clever or incredibly lucky," Madeline said at last.
"I like to think of it as efficiency," he said. "Sometimes I get a yes. Usually those are times I have to pay for, but I don't mind. I still got what I was after. Sometimes I get a huff or a slap, but that saves time too. I'm not a particularly subtle man, and if a girl can't handle that its good to know it up front," he took another drag from his cigarette before looking Madeline dead in the eye. "On occasion, if I'm lucky, I'll get an interesting conversation with a pretty girl."
Madeline gaped at him before shaking her head and laughing incredulously.
"Clever isn't the right word," she told him, after some serious thought. "Though I've no doubt it's true. No, I think you're more cunning than clever, Tommy."
"Cunning," he said slowly, making a show of mulling the word over. "You think me deceitful, Madeline?"
"You haven't lied to me," Madeline said. "You haven't had to. A conversation never goes anyplace you don't want it to go."
She'd noticed it as they'd been talking. Sometimes he did it so skillfully she didn't even notice the conversation had been redirected until they were too far into the topic for her to get back without being obvious. Other times, he would derail things completely with a comment, taking them off in an entirely different direction. Or would give glib, evasive answers.
"I don't mind," she said, when he stared at her, blue eyes assessing. "In fact, I've found it rather invigorating, trying to keep up."
His lip twitched as the corners of his eyes deepened.
"I'm not the only clever one at this table," was all he said in response, genuine admiration in his eyes.
Madeline flushed. Him calling her pretty had made her feel slightly flustered, but it wasn't often that she received a genuine complement on her intelligence. Tommy only smirked in response, his admiration morphing into appreciation as he continued eyeing her up, making her skin heat even more.
Before she could figure out how to respond, the clock chimed and Madeline turned to look, cursing quietly in French when she saw the time.
Tommy let out a low chuckle, and when Madeline shot him a look he smirked in response.
"That one I know," he said. "What did the clock do to deserve such abuse?"
"I need to be getting back," Madeline said. "Curfew is in fifteen minutes."
"May I walk you?" Tommy asked, rising to his feet as she pushed her chair back.
Madeline considered it. She wasn't quite ready to say goodbye to Mister Shelby. And for all that he had been very upfront about what he was looking for, she hadn't enjoyed herself this much with a man…well, ever. None of her dates in the states had ever been anything close to this much fun.
Tommy Shelby was a handsome man. Just looking at him had butterflies buffeting her stomach, and his low, raspy voice sent shivers down her spine in the best possible way.
She was tempted in a way she never had been before.
Walking with him would ensure she could not give into that temptation, as it wasn't as if he would be able to come into their lodgings. But it would leave the door open.
By the time they arrived where Madeline was staying, Tommy had secured permission to call on Madeline again the next day. His leave would last six days, and Madeline had vowed to do her best to secure a pass to be out after dark for as many of those days as possible.
"You still haven't answered my question," Tommy said as Madeline turned to enter her lodgings after they had exchanged goodbyes.
Madeline felt herself flushing, but she met his gaze head on, her spine straight.
"Learn to ask properly, Mister Shelby, and we'll see."
With that, she turned and made her way through the door, his laughter echoing through the air.
Come find me on Tumblr! Same username - Madelineshelby . I post peaky blinders stuff and will be posting things about the fic. Please let me know what you all think!