It's hard to define what they are. They'd grown up together, practically inseparable. Until the war, at least. She'd seen him become a man. Fall in love with Greta. Lose Greta. Waved him off at the train station as he went to join the fight. That had been the hardest moment of them all, probably, but she had consoled herself with the fact that at least he wouldn't be alone over there.
They were an unlikely pair. The daughter of a factory owner and the son of a traveler. Normally, a young girl like her wouldn't have been allowed to go and play with the boys, especially those kinds of boys in that kind of neighborhood, but she didn't have anybody to tell her not to. Her mother had died years earlier, when she was barely old enough to remember. Thrown herself into the sea on a family vacation. She supposed that was what really drew them to each other in the first place. A drowned mother and a father too drunk to care - the only things they had in common. His had actually left. Hers might as well have.
Friends doesn't quite fit. He's more like a brother to her, but that doesn't feel right to say either. She has a brother. She had a brother, she corrects herself.
She wipes the frown from her face as she stamps her cigarette out in the alleyway behind The Garrison. Her heels clip against the floor as she enters through the back door, though the sound is obscured by the noise of a chair falling in the pub.
She hurries her footsteps, taking in the scene briefly before shouting, "Oi, what's going on here? Shelby, get your hands off him."
Nick looks over at her, an eyebrow raised. Tommy unclenches his hands from the man's coat and lets them drop, still glaring. Nick steps back and straightens his clothes while saying, "This ruffian seems to have a problem with my being here."
"That ruffian was my brother's best friend, so mind yourself," she says sweetly before dropping the tone and turning to the other man. "And you - don't pretend you haven't heard."
"Heard what, Selene?" Tommy says, his smirk giving him away. "I haven't the faintest clue who this man is. I just suggested that if he was unsatisfied with the service here, he leave rather than disrespecting Harry."
She's sure Tommy has heard, no matter what he says. About how she had gone off to join the Women's Land Army. About how Nick is the son of the family whose house she was stationed at. About how she'd grown close to him helping take care of his wounds - relatively minor, thank goodness - after he'd come back from the war. Was that really months ago now?
Still, if Tommy wants to pretend, it's better to pretend. At least in public.
"In that case… Thomas Shelby, meet Nicholas Cust. My fiancé," she says with a wide smile. They stand there still staring at each other for a second. She laughs awkwardly, "Well, do shake hands or something."
Tommy is the first to stick his hand out, declaring in that tone he always used to use whenever Aunt Polly caught him getting in to trouble, "An honor, Lord Brownlow."
"My honor, I'm sure," Nick responds with matching politeness as he shakes his hand. "I heard you won medals in the war. I'd love to see them."
"I'd love to show them to you," Tommy responds, a twinkle in his eye. Nick misses the threat, opening his mouth to respond. Before he can, she interrupts.
"I have been meaning to thank you, Thomas. I know it was you that got Edward a good spot, on top of the hill. It always was his favorite place."
"It's nothing," he mutters, looking down. The entire room seems to fall to silence as they do. The air feels heavy. She can feel everybody's eyes trying not to look.
At least Nick seems to pick up on the mood. He looks to her as he says, "It's getting late. I'm going to get the car. Are you sure you want to stay here?"
"Yes. As I mentioned at the factory, I still have to settle some affairs for my father's estate. It should just take a day or two. I will take the train back when I am done."
He steps forward, placing a hand on her waist and pulling her closer, "Are you sure I shouldn't stay as well?"
"Don't worry. I'm sure you have your own affairs to attend to. Birmingham is plenty safe if you know your way around," she answers with a smile. She does not add the second part of what she's thinking: especially if you know Tommy Shelby.
"Alright. Just call and I'll send a driver. Be safe, my moon," he whispers, ducking his head down to kiss her forehead and then smiling at her as she mutters back a farewell. She watches him walk away until the door closes. The pub comes back to life.
"Your brothers in there?" she asks a moment later, cocking her head toward the booth.
He doesn't answer directly, simply leading the way over to the family's unofficial haunt and opening the door for her to pass through. Tommy slides in after, grabbing the bottle of Irish Whisky and two glasses Harry left in the window before slipping in to the space across from her.
She pours them drinks, asking while she does, "How's everybody?"
"Polly and Ada wanted to invite you for tea. I told them they were being silly."
"Now why would you say something like that, Thomas Shelby?" she chides.
He leans forward, whispering conspiratorially, "Isn't dirtying her shoes in the mud of Watery Lane and drinking out of chipped cups a little below the soon-to-be Lady Brownlow?"
She laughs at his absurdity before replying, "Don't say it that way, Thomas. I'm here, amn't I? You know I've never cared about those sorts of things."
"Don't call me Thomas," he answers, leaning even further across the table.
"What should I call you then? Mr. Shelby?" she quips before lifting her glass.
"Tommy," he hisses, making her stop mid-sip. She looks down at him, his blue eyes intent as they catch hers. "Just Tommy. Like always."
She laughs again and reaches a hand out to swat at his arm, her mind failing her for any verbal response. He catches it, fingers wrapping around her wrist and pulling it down to the table under his. His eyes are still trained on her.
"You should stay in Birmingham."
"Aren't you the one who hates Birmingham? Perhaps you should leave it."
"Everybody misses you, Selie. Stay. Just a little while."
"How long's a little while, Tommy?" she asks. When she's met with silence, she looks away while putting her glass down. "The wedding's in two months. You should come."
He lets her go, grinding his jaw as he leans back in his seat again. He sips from his glass for a long moment, eyes downcast, those long lashes the only thing she sees when she tries to read the expression in them.
If there's one thing she knows is still true about him, it's that Tommy Shelby does not like change he doesn't plan. Above all, Tommy Shelby does not like when people leave.
But he'd left her. What was she to do, sit in her family's empty house waiting for him?
Finally, he pulls his glass away from his mouth and looks back up to say, "It's too far."
"Don't make excuses. I saw that car parked down the street. Can't you take one day off from your grand mission to take over the world or whatever you are up to?"
"It's an older model. Won't make it all the way."
"Then I'll have Nick send a driver out and take you back the next day," she counters. "Come on, Tommy. Everybody will have fun. God knows we've been overdue for the chance to gather for a celebration. And I could use someone to walk me down the aisle."
There is a flash of something on his face. Anger? That can't be right. Maybe he's just sad thinking about her brother again. They'd been just as close as the two of them are. A little triad of trouble. Closer, even, perhaps, considering they'd been in the same unit during the war.
When there is no reply, she says gently, "He's a good man. Edward would be happy."
"Easy to be a good man when you have other men to do the work of feeding your family for you," he mutters.
"That's not fair. He didn't ask for any of that. It's just how he was born," she responds with a huff. He turns toward her, looking strikingly similar to a puppy who has just been kicked. She sighs. "I'm not saying you're a bad man, Thomas. You're one of the best men I know. I know whatever you're up to, there's a reason for it. You just have to get out of your head sometimes. Sometimes it seems like you live among ghosts more than actual people."
"If we hadn't gotten separated, I would have tried to save - "
"I know. It's not your fault he's dead, Tommy. I don't want you to feel responsible for it, or for me. It's just… I don't want to feel alone that day."
"Then stay here, Selie. You'll never feel alone in Birmingham. I can promise you that."
"Things are different now. Everybody has their own lives. John's already married. Arthur's bound to be soon. Ada's too pretty not to catch a husband, even with you lot trying to scare men away. And you and Polly are busy with the business, from what I hear. I don't want to get in the way."
"You're smart enough never to get in the way."
"Doesn't change the fact that I'll never be a Shelby, Tommy."
"You never know," he says with a shrug and a smirk. "Maybe Arthur'll marry you, if you'll have him."
"Hmm, future Lady Brownlow or Arthur Shelby Jr.'s wife… that's a tough decision," she jokes, pouring another round for them. The sound of the front door banging open makes her jump in the middle, spilling a bit on the table. She looks up to see Arthur in the doorway to the booth and laughs lightly, "Well, speak of the devil. Looks like we'll be needing a refill."
"Harry's in the back," Arthur mutters. "You don't mind if I take yours, do ya?"
"It's fine, I'll grab it myself then. I'm sure you two - three," she corrects as she sees John behind him after standing, "have things to talk about. Just knock when you're ready."
It only takes five minutes before she hears the sound of a fist pounding against the wooden window. She walks back in, carrying another bottle and two more glasses, only to find the boys arguing about something. They quiet down as soon as she arrives, each looking at her as if they couldn't be any more innocent. A tell-tale sign they've been plotting something.
Arthur, spread out along the back bench where two should be able to fit, says with a smile as she pours, "Sorry love, no space left. You'll just have to sit in one of our laps."
"Don't be scandalous, Arthur," she admonishes with fake seriousness, the smile on her face giving her away. "I'm sure you've heard I'm accounted for."
"Accounted for, alright," Arthur says, smile widening even more in response.
John puts his hands up and leans back in his chair, "Not that I'd turn a pretty bird like you down, but my wife might have something to say if I don't. No offense meant, Selene."
They both snicker as if there's some part of this joke she is not getting. She's just about to turn toward the door to grab another chair from outside when she feels an arm around her waist pulling her in. The snickering intensifies as she blushes.
"Enough," Tommy says, gravely voice far too close to her ear. She can hear the laughter hidden in it. "You're making the lady uncomfortable."
"I'm not uncomfortable," she defends quickly, not wanting to seem like a prude.
"Are you sure about that?" he says in a teasing whisper, warm breath brushing her skin.
"Of course," she answers, trying not to squirm in his lap. He hums in response. How can the human body make such an angelic noise? She tries to defend herself, "Why would I be, we're basically siblings too."
"Then I suppose you wouldn't mind staying here, sister," he hisses, lifting his glass from the table and to her lips.
At first, she stays stiff, worried about every single little movement and word. But within minutes John has distracted her with one of his stories and she begins to relax, forgetting the position she is in. They talk and laugh like the good old days for what feels like an hour before John excuses himself, saying he has to pick up some groceries for dinner on the way home. Arthur follows soon after, muttering about boxing practice. She moves to slide off of Tommy's lap and into the space he was formerly occupying as he leaves. Tommy's arms tightens around her waist, refusing to let her go.
"Tommy," she starts to warn, word coming out slightly slurred.
"Shh," he whispers before ducking his head down to her neck and kissing it. She gasps, instinctively melting into him again. His hand slips up to her face, taking her chin to pull her head to the side so he can kiss her lips.
Their first kiss. It shouldn't be like this. Heated lips, whisky breath, his teeth clashing against hers. Other hand already searching her body, sliding its way up her dress. No, it shouldn't be at all, she remembers.
"Tommy, I can't - "
"The pub's empty."
"Does that matter?"
"Nobody has to know."
"Still - "
"Stop me," he challenges.
She's wanted this her whole life but not like this. Sometimes things are better in your imagination. She pulls away, wrenching her head from his grip and separating their faces by enough distance for them to make eye contact. Silence stretches between them for a second as they each catch their breath.
"I can be better," he whispers, his hand coming up to her face again. She can hear the yearning in his voice. "Will be better. Just give me time. Five years. No, three."
"You can't make me stay like this," she says, tone even.
"Is that what you think I'm doing?" he asks through gritted teeth.
"What else could you be doing, Tommy?" she fires back.
His eyes narrow at her. His jaw clicks. His arms loosen so she can finally slide off his lap.
She does not, watching him for a few seconds before saying softly, "I'm sorry you lost her, Tommy. Life isn't fair, and you didn't deserve to be hurt like that. But you can't fill that hole with me just because I'm here. Love doesn't work like that. And I'm not leaving, I'm just going somewhere else. If you ever need me, I'll be there."
"What if I need you right now?"
"Trust me, this isn't what you need, Tommy. You'll find someone else eventually."
There's a pause as he searches her face before asking, "Do you love him?"
She puts on a smile. Not that she doesn't feel like smiling, really. It's just that it feels wrong to smile here, at this moment. In the pub her brother frequented, not even a year after his death. What gives her the right to be happy when he won't be ever again?
"Of course I do," she admits. "It took a while too, after everything, but - "
"Right, of course," Tommy says, shifting away from her. "I have to get back to work."
She nods and forces herself to keep smiling despite the change in his demeanor. Despite the regret blossoming inside of her. What was she thinking, practically bragging to him about her love when he'd lost his? God, she's so stupid. Obviously he wouldn't want to hear something like that. She should have just changed the subject or something.
He turns back just as he reaches the door and grabs his coat off the hook to pull it on, "Send the invitation over. Polly and Ada will want to go, at least."
A/N: Inspiration struck, and I simply had to write it before Season 6 comes out and potentially ruins my plot. I literally should be doing so many other things right now, but I'm not. This is my first time writing Tommy Shebly, and I haven't watched the show in a while (though a rewatch is now upcoming, of course), so please let me know what you think!