She wakes up before Patrick the next morning, finding that during the night she has managed to turn around, her face now buried in the soft fabric of Patrick's shirt. She smiles, cuddling closer for a moment and breathing in the scent of him, noting how she has never felt closer to someone than she does in that moment, her leg tossed over his hip, locking them together while her fingers play with one of the buttons on his top. It was still early but she knew she would have to wake him soon; he had to work. She wanted to stay in bed with him all day, quickly finding herself loving the sensation of waking up in his arms and listening to his heartbeat beneath her ear. Their wedding was only a few weeks away, but at the same time it felt like forever.
"You should just stay," Patrick whispers into her hair, seeming to read her mind. She tilts her chin up, kissing his Adam's apple, drawing a slight growl from his throat. "I like having you here when I wake up."
"I like it too," she answers, planting a second kiss on his jawbone, squirming until her face is level with his, blushing slightly before she leans in to kiss him properly, his hands quickly finding their way to her waist.
"Shelagh," he moans into her lips, nuzzling their noses together as he pulls back, his chest heaving as he tries to rein his body under control. The smile she gives him is sleepy and shy, but laced with something he hasn't seen before. She seems to have a different confidence about her as she wriggles out of his arms, sitting up at the edge of the bed before she stands, the hem of the nightdress she's wearing falling down to her calves but only after he's been treated to the sight of her thighs from where it had ridden up during their sleep.
"I'll go start breakfast, you get washed up and ready for work," she calls, grabbing her glasses before she slips out of the room, leaving him to let out a huff of air and flop onto his back. He stays in bed only for another moment before stretching, letting all the tension in his muscles out before he gets up and heads to the bathroom.
When he comes down to the kitchen a little while later he feels his heart seize at the sight of his fiancée. She's standing at the stove, singing softly to herself as she cooks breakfast, her hair catching the light from the window. He crowds up behind her, dropping a kiss to her shoulder as she smiles, leaning back into his chest as she scoops the eggs and bacon on to two plates, passing him one before nudging him towards the table with her hip. They eat in contented silence, Patrick revelling in the feeling of Shelagh's foot tangling around his ankle, stroking the back of his calf absently. Eventually, he groans, noting the time as he hastily jumps up and goes to gather his things.
"You should stay," he tells her, dropping a kiss on her cheek before heading out the door. She smiles, glancing down at the floor, unsure how to take the comment. "I mean it," he calls. "I love the thought of coming home to you each night and waking up with you each morning."
She lasts all of half an hour pondering the idea before she leaves the flat, going to the lodging she's been letting to gather her things and return her keys. The woman running the rooms gives her a strange look before wishing her well. She feels oddly giddy when she comes back to his home, their home, soon enough. Now, technically. She tucks her clothes into the wardrobe next to his, letting her fingers trail across the differing fabrics. She doesn't have much, not really, still struggling with the idea to revoke the vow of poverty that she had lived by for so long. Looking at the dress Patrick had bought her she smiled, stroking the material before jumping when she hears a knock at the door downstairs. She opens the door to find Trixie on the stoop, the younger woman beaming at her.
"Hello Trixie," she says, feeling slightly self conscious at being found alone in the doctor's flat.
"Shelagh, are you busy?" Trixie questions in way of greeting, stepping into the house when Shelagh backs away and into the hall.
"Um, no, I've not got anything on at the moment –" Shelagh starts, looking worried when Trixie's grin grows even more.
"Wonderful! Get your things, we're going shopping," Trixie announced, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
"I should ask Patrick –" Shelagh started.
"You can't very well ask him to come shopping for you trousseau silly," Trixie scolds, her bubbly nature infecting the flat until Shelagh feels herself blush from head to foot. She hadn't thought of such a thing. She had assumed she would just wear her normal slip under her wedding dress – not something else. Not something considered to be sexy. She attempted to stammer a reply, to say she wasn't sure if it was a good idea, but before she could get the words out she found herself in the street, Trixie tugging her along towards the bus stop, rambling a mile a minute about things like hair, makeup, and nail lacquer.
"I... I don't know anything about makeup Trixie," she confesses softly once they're seated on the bus. She can feel her own insecurity sneaking in again. What if she picked something Patrick didn't like? What if she didn't know what she was doing? If she did her hair or makeup wrong?
"Oh darling, that's what I'm here for. I couldn't very well let Cynthia come to take you shopping for unmentionables. The poor dear would die of fright," Trixie says, squeezing Shelagh's hand in reassurance. "And don't you worry about that man of yours. You could show up to your wedding dressed in bin bags and covered in mud and he would still think you're the most beautiful woman on the planet. Don't forget he fell in love with you while you were hiding beneath a habit." The gentle teasing brings a smile to her face. She lets Trixie's commentary about the various pregnant women flow over her as they pass through the city, the blonde tugging her along the street once they disembark and into a high end shop. Shelagh blinked against the lights, feeling herself flush at the immodest garments that were present.
"Oh goodness," she breathed, glancing around at the varying styles and fabrics, feeling immensely out of her depth. Trixie's hand found her wrist, keeping her grounded.
"I know it can be overwhelming," Trixie starts, voice soft and calm, tempered to make the other woman feel at ease. "And I can tell this is something you're unsure of, but let me help? The other girls wanted to come along as well but I didn't want it to be too much. We all love you and want you to be happy Shelagh. You don't need to hide yourself from us. Or from your husband to be." The words are said with such sincerity that Shelagh feels her chest ache. She hadn't realised how much the young nurse had grown until that moment. She might still be free spirited and outlandish at times, but she had matured immensely in her way of dealing with other people.
"Thank you," she finally responds. Trixie positively beams, giggling as she takes her hand, dragging her towards the back of the shop.
"Now, do you have your something blue?" the girl queries, watching Shelagh shake her head. "Well, I was thinking, and do hear me out Shelagh, but maybe we could get you something blue here? Even if its just a pair of knickers." Shelagh fights against the blush she feels trying to claw its way up her neck as she nods her assent, eyes tracking Trixie as the girl grabs one of the shop keepers, rambling out ideas at the other woman who nods, smiling and nodding along with whatever Trixie is saying.
She quickly finds herself swept into a changing cubicle, surrounding by lace and silk, fingers shaking as she slips the material on. The petticoat is a combination of tulle and lace, a small silk ribbon and rosette in blue at one side, lining up with where her thigh meets her pelvis. The corset, which she initially balked at, was simple, the fabric clinging to her and giving her the shape she always struggles to believe she has. It complemented nicely to the petticoat. She bit her lip, looking at the knickers, a soft blue, before nodding to herself, knowing that as much as she worried, it was a good idea. Trixie was right – the coloured fabric would act as a surprise to her husband on their wedding night. She felt herself blushing again, thinking about the way Patrick might look at her as he lays her out on their bed. She shakes off the thought as quickly as she can, letting Trixie slip into the room to give her approval for a few seconds before shooing the young woman out again, changing back into her normal clothes quickly.
Trixie refuses to let her pay for the clothes, insisting that the nurses at Nonnatus had agreed this would be their wedding present for her. They stop at a cafe for a cup of tea and a scone before finally heading back into Poplar. Shelagh hugs Trixie fiercely at the door, whispering her thanks into the nurse's ear as Patrick opens the door, smiling at the two of them.
"Have a good day ladies?" he queries, loving the way Shelagh's eyes are alight with happiness and mischief, Trixie confirming his diagnosis of their day before she bids them both goodnight, disappearing down the street with a wave. "What do you have there?" he asks when he notices the bag in Shelagh's hand as she heads for the stairs.
"You'll have to wait till the wedding to find out," she calls back, tossing him a wink as she disappears.
When they crawl into bed later that evening, Shelagh resting her head over Patrick's chest, he strokes her arm, listening to her breathing level out before he speaks.
"Your clothes are in the wardrobe," he comments, fingers skimming up and down.
"Yes," she confirms, voice low in the darkness.
"You're staying."
"Yes."
"Good."