The Right Way To Tie A Bow

Summary: Even after all these years, Mrs Lovett still sometimes had trouble tying her apron strings. Sweeney/Lovett fluff.

A/N: A little fluffy oneshot here. It just popped into my head and I wrot eit up. Not very long, but... (shrug). I think Sweeney's a tad OOC right at the end, but oh well. Enjoy!


Mrs Lovett walked into the shop, one hand over her mouth as she yawned. Another day. Another day of baking people into pies. And to think she'd criticized Mrs Mooney for using pussies! Well, she could reason that sure enough. Pussies were darling little things, but people sinned, right? Did wrong things every day, she wouldn't wonder – and oh, she didn't need to wonder! And Mr Todd was careful to kill only those that wouldn't be missed.

The baker took her apron from the hook it hung on and pulled it on, proceeding to fiddle with the apron strings. After several minutes, frustrated was too mild a word for how she felt. Every time she tried to tie a bow it fell apart in her hands. She was like this every so often. Fingers like butter. Dead annoying it was and all. Not that she particularly needed the apron – she'd barely used it up until a while ago – but apparently there was something about a baker with an apron that drew customers in.

Mrs Lovett sighed and decided to do what she always did – go upstairs and use the full-length mirror up there. There was something about being able to see what she was doing that made tying the strings easier. She was damned if she knew why, but there you have it. If it works, don't knock it. Her hand was on the shop door before she remembered. Of course. Mr Todd was up there now. Cocking her head, the widow tried to hear whether the barber was awake and up yet. No – nothing. No pacing. Mrs Lovett sighed. Of course, even if he had been awake, she wasn't sure if she'd have dared bother him just to tie her apron in front of his mirror. Her Mr Todd wasn't a morning person if the mood took him. Sighing, she returned to trying to twist around enough to see her clumsy hands.


God knows how long later – though maybe not too long, judging by the light outside – Mrs Lovett had all but given up. All of a sudden, cold hands covered hers, pulling them carefully away from the strings, before pulling the strings tight and tying a bow quickly and efficiently.

"That, Mrs Lovett." A deep voice said in her ear, breath tickling her. "Is the right way to tie a bow."

"You're a dear, Mr Todd." She replied cheerily, smiling and giving the barber a quick peck on the cheek. "I don't know, you'd think me hands were butter some days."

It was a good thing she turned away then, really. Or she might have noticed her Mr Todd getting the slightest blush and putting his hand over the spot she'd kissed him. Anyone would think he had feelings for his Mrs Lovett or something.