This has only one explanation, and it is the slacks that Shelagh will wear in episode 2. I have no idea what will happen, I just saw the preview of the episode and thought of something like this. Shelagh is super pretty and perfect with her slacks and her top and her necklace, and Patrick too!
It's terribly out of character, you'll notice when you read it. But what am I going to do? I just sat down and let out what was in my head. Don't blame me!
She rubbed his shoulders and leaned her cheek against his, pretending to read the paper Patrick was staring at.
He was sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by folders, his fingers moving at times, exasperated by the lack of a cigarette between them. Shelagh was standing behind him and leaned her entire body against his back.
"Don't be so angry," she whispered in his ear.
He just grunted, not paying attention to her. She kissed him on the temple, and tightened her arms around his neck, trying to hold him.
"Patrick it's late."
He just put down the paper to take another, pulling away slightly from her embrace. Patrick was having a hard time concentrating, he had the whole discussion with Sister Julienne in his head, plus a tiring day at work, and by God, he could not understand why the older woman was still so planted in her idea of private health.
He already knew it was late, and he did not need Shelagh to be reminding him or bothering him with hugs.
"Patrick."
"Shelagh, if you are trying to seduce me to convince me of what Sister Julienne is asking for, then I warn you that you will lose. Things are not like that with me and you know it well."
She blinked, loosened her embrace, and stepped back. His words were almost like a slap, she could not believe he thought of her that way. She just wanted to hug him, take care of him, and yes, she tried to seduce him, but it was for no other reason than to have a good time together and help him forget even for a while all the complicated situation they were experiencing.
"You know I would never do something like that," she managed to say, anger tangling on her tongue.
"Well, Sister Julienne also seemed incapable of doing certain things and here we are."
For a couple of seconds there was complete silence. Patrick immediately regretted what he had just said. He was not being fair at all, Shelagh was walking a sharp edge between two people she loved and she did not deserve to be treated like this.
However, he could not help but think that she would choose to support her former mentor. Between women, and between colleagues and friends, they supported each other. So every time he realized that it was very likely that he was alone and did not have the support of his wife, he felt anger toward her emerging.
"Shelagh, I..." He turned in the chair to speak to her but saw the icy look she was giving him. She was angry, or worse, she was offended. Patrick felt terrible, this beautiful woman, for whom he had been melting since he saw her in those new slacks, that woman was offended and hurt by him.
He quickly thought about what to do, but she reacted faster.
Truth be told, he had been unbearable during those days. She had counted to ten, she had recited psalms, she had thought about the happy moments they shared together, she had done many things to avoid screaming at him, but she was losing patience.
Patrick was being a rude pig and she understood his reasons but there was no need to be surly with her. She tried not to think, because when she did, she only felt anger towards him.
But Patrick had just spoken to her in a way that she was no longer willing to accept, and her anger grew alarmingly even to herself.
Her breath caught when she looked at him, he had those eyes that she loved filled with anger and it was intimidating but it no longer frightened her. Before she could stop herself she took a step toward him and tore the papers from his hands and tossed them across the kitchen.
"This, it makes me tired," she snapped, as she took another paper and held it in front of his eyes, "this, it also makes me tired, and you, you also have me tired. I'm fed up, Patrick!"
She punctuated her last sentence by throwing another set of papers in his face. Then she turned to go up the stairs, but he was already on his feet, grabbing her by one of her wrists and turning her around.
"Let me!" she screamed too loud and he released her, fearing he had hurt her.
She seemed like a different person, and he blamed himself for that, but it was not his fault that things were so complicated and that she was behaving like crazy.
Shelagh tried to escape towards the stairs, but he stopped her again, this time taking her hand more gently.
"Let me go," she hissed. Her gaze was hard and poisoned, but he still did not let go. He should apologize, it was his duty, but he did not want to.
He just pulled her hand to him. She resisted and complained, but immediately he had her trapped with his hands on her shoulders.
"Don't do what you did again, did you hear me right?"
Shelagh's eyes widened, and he swallowed, knowing that what he had just said was completely wrong. He again tried to apologize and put some sanity between them, but she spoke first, almost spitting the words.
"You don't scare me, Patrick Turner."
It felt good for her to be defiant for a moment, to be a little bad. Sometimes being kind and understanding and sweet was exhausting and if he could take the anger out on her, she wanted to too.
Patrick squeezed more, making her shoulders ache, she complained but he did not release her, and he kissed her on the mouth with the same painful force.
She complained more and pushed away from him with a shove to his chest, her blue eyes blazing with fury.
She raised a hand, ready to slap him but he stopped her by taking her arm with a strong and tense hand. Shelagh complained but he did not let go.
They stared at each other, agitated, gritting their teeth.
He softened his grip on her arm, lowered it slowly, and took her hand gently, still looking into her eyes. Taking a ragged breath, she jerked away, only to take his face in her hands and throw herself at him to kiss him with the same force he had used before.
Patrick complained, felt the frame of her glasses dig into his skin and her teeth dig into his mouth. He hugged her around her waist, pressing her against him, and lifted her up and carried her onto the table. All the papers that she had not thrown crumpled or fell off.
"I hate you," she whispered, separating just an inch from his lips, "you've been the worst these days."
He just nodded, kissing her again, entangling his hands around her neck and her head, removing the pins that held her hair. She complained into his mouth for the tugging, and she tugged on his hair in revenge.
Patrick pulled away from her, barely smiling at the sight of her frown. He rested his forehead on hers, trying to breathe.
"I shouldn't have said that, so you can freely hate me."
"I do," Shelagh scratched his cheeks, gritting her teeth, "And this is because you pulled my hair."
Patrick complained but he did not move, on the contrary he only drew her closer to him, spreading her legs with his body, taking her by her bottom only to hit her more with his growing erection.
She moaned slightly, wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling but biting her lower lip as she saw how he caressed her legs and her hips, squeezing and gazing with lascivious eyes.
"Shelagh, was it necessary for you to wear these slacks? You drove me crazy all night."
She smirked, wrapped her legs around his waist and moved against him, feeling his hardness. Patrick dropped his forehead on her shoulder, fumbling for the button and zipper of her slacks.
"I did it on purpose, I had to punish you for your bad behavior in some way. I knew you would like my new blue slacks..."
"It's a shame I have to rip them off."
"Don't even think about it! Oh! " she pressed her lips together to stifle her moan as she felt his hands finally reaching into her slacks and under her panties. She saw him smile with satisfaction, so she lifted his cardigan and reached for his zipper.
"I'm sorry for everything, Shelagh," Patrick nibbled on her neck, his fingers caressing her, "I'm sorry."
She swallowed another loud moan as she felt one of his hands on her panties and the other on her bottom. Weakened by his actions but still firm,
she reached into his trousers and wrapped her hand around his penis, feeling it stiffen in response.
"Bloody hell," he growled too loudly, his mouth leaving a mark on her neck. She stroked gently once and then rubbed her fingernails on his penis, causing him to widen his eyes in surprise and moan and complain at the same time.
Patrick slid his hands under her top and wrapped his fingers around her breasts. He felt Shelagh stop stroking him for an instant, just closing her eyes and biting her lip. He tugged at her top to remove it, but she stopped him.
"No time," she whispered quite desperately, turning her attention to him, kissing him on the mouth and stroking him and pulling his cardigan towards her.
She really wanted him right now and right there, but her anger was still latent. She bit his jaw and neck too hard and he complained and pulling away from her a little, but with a chuckle. Patrick grabbed her slacks and pulled them down.
"Stop, stop, you will break them and then I'll really hate you."
Patrick barely laughed.
"It was easier when you wore skirts," he whispered hoarsely.
"Are you complaining?" she raised an eyebrow.
"Not at all," he smiled.
Shelagh rested her hands on his shoulders to lift herself up slightly. He pulled her tight slacks down, slid them down her legs, and removed her shoes. He tossed all to the floor along with the papers she had scattered.
For a couple of seconds they looked at each other, agitated, red with fury and passion, with marks all over them and wild hair.
Patrick stroked one of her cheeks, ran his thumb over her reddened lips.
"You are so beautiful and perfect, will you support me?"
Shelagh caught his finger in her mouth, bit it, and released it. He moaned, his free hand going to her waist, pushing her against his body.
"You know I'm impartial," she swallowed, glancing down where her wet panties made contact with his trousers.
He nodded.
"I figured you would say that."
He pushed her panties aside and entered her fully. She just screamed and he shut her down with his mouth and she clung to him with arms and legs.
They moved frantically, he was being rude to her, thrusting hard and deep, and she wanted, somehow, to show him how much she hated his attitudes, so she scratched his neck, his shoulders, bit his mouth, but she also wanted him to break free of all the tensions and thoughts that kept him from her.
"I'm sorry for everything, Shelagh" she heard him murmur in her ear, as he took her hips to move her faster.
"Shh, shut up and unload on me," she covered his lips with her fingers to silence him, she felt him enter more deeply and she squeezed her eyelids, feeling her nerves explode with pleasure.
She came with a desperate moan in his ear, suddenly releasing all her resentment towards him. She hugged his neck loosely, closing her eyes and trying to take a breath.
He did not stop to kiss her or offer her caresses as he always did, he kept pumping mercilessly. When he came, he did so with a loud and long growl, leaning his whole body against her, almost falling onto the table. He bit her neck with all his teeth, she pulled away complaining.
"Sorry," he said looking exhausted, pulling away from her body. He ran his fingers down her neck, trying to relieve the mark.
Shelagh heard a "tick" noise and then more "ticks". She saw the beads of her necklace bouncing off the table and rolling on the floor and she gaped at Patrick.
"You broke it!" she whispered, he just laughed in response.
"I'll fix it, I promise. Are you okay?"
She nodded, but pushed him away.
"Are you still angry?"
"Look where you threw my slacks, now they will be wrinkled and dirty. And pick up the beads, I don't want someone to slip because of that," she said without looking at him, trying to adjust her tousled hair.
Patrick gave her his hand to help her down from the table and hugged her when he saw that her legs were still weak.
"Shelagh, I'm sorry for everything, even this."
She looked at him, a small smile on her lips. She stroked his cheek slightly bruised by her fingernails.
"Say sorry for everything but this, darling."
He kissed her hand with a sweetness totally far from the brutality they had shared a few minutes ago and she hugged his waist, shivering with cold, because she was barefoot and without her pants.
"I know I was very bad today and all these days. It's not your fault," he kissed her hair. Suddenly tears pricked her eyes.
"I wasn't really doing anything to convince you, Patrick. I just wanted a moment with you, to help you out of your frustration. I'm sorry I threw the papers in your face."
"I'm sorry I spoke to you as if I were your owner or your master."
"And I'm sorry I almost slapped you."
He laughed, kissed her forehead.
"I would like to feel that sometime."
"You're crazy," she pulled away from him and yawned, "I need to sleep, and so do you."
Patrick nodded and lifted the papers, her shoes and the slacks.
"The beads on my necklace," Shelagh pointed to the floor.
"Tomorrow," he complained, "Besides, it's not mine."
"Patrick, you broke it, you pick it up."
Reluctantly he gathered a pair, then looked at her.
"Will you wear these slacks again?"
"It depends on your behavior."
"Well, I was very bad today and you rewarded me," he dropped the beads on the floor again.
"Patrick! Stop being like this!" she took the slacks out of his hands, "If you don't stop behaving like this I'll burn these and go back to my habit."
"Nonnatus's new habit is not bad at all," he approached her, raising an eyebrow, trying to kiss her. She had to laugh at the ridiculousness of everything that was happening.
He took her hand.
"Come on, you're shivering with cold, even though you look pretty in your panties in our kitchen."
She rolled her eyes, but she followed him, content and hugging his waist.
"You said it was necessary for me to dress those slacks, but you were also driving me crazy with that cardigan. I love when we combine the colors."
"One more confirmation that together we are perfect."
"Almost."
"Almost," he smiled.
Trying to stifle their giggling, they went up to the bedroom.