Innocent Things
Summary: Sometimes innocent observations can lead to less innocent pursuits. Especially when the object of said observation is unaware she is being watched.
A/N: Another pre-movie oneshot. And pretty much AU at that, but the idea came to me and it was so sweet and fluffy I couldn't NOT write it. Plus, Benjamin/Nellie is sweet in its own right.
Also, I've noticed I'm yet to post an angsty oneshot here. I might have to change the summary to reflect this, and the title. How does A Spoonful Of Sugar sound for a new title?
Benjamin bit down hard on his bottom lip so as to not let out a chuckle as he watched his friend sleeping peacefully, the strangest expression on her face. After several moments he returned his gaze to the book in his hands, determined to finish another couple of chapters before the day was out, but almost a minute later he realised he had read the same line a dozen times. With a sigh, Benjamin gave it up as a bad job, and allowed himself the luxury of letting his eyes wander to where they wanted to be: gazing at the petite form resting against his shoulder. He hadn't been able to help but notice Nellie lately – or, more specifically, her looks. Of course, he had always thought her pretty – beautiful, even – though whenever he voiced this opinion the girl would blush and insist he must be joking.
Now his eyes wandered easily over her, taking in all the little details. Her wild red curls, pinned up hastily, but still gleaming brightly in the afternoon sunlight. Her pink lips, moving slightly in her sleep as she half-formed silent words. Her pale, almost porcelain skin, marred only by the large purple bags under her eyes. Benjamin's brow furrowed a little at this addition to Nellie's face. She was working far too hard trying to help her parents make enough money, though she wouldn't slow down for anything. The dress she was wearing was yet more evidence of this fact: it was worn almost threadbare, the colour faded, and it was patched in at least half a dozen places, if not more. Benjamin glanced almost guiltily at his own clothes, newly bought, and wished for the hundreth – no, probably the thousandth – time that Nellie would let him buy her something, even if it was just a new dress. He couldn't help but feel guilty when he saw he working so hard for so little, when he had so much.
Benjamin absent-mindedly slid an arm around her shoulders so his fingers could play with her hair, twirling several curls around his fingers. It was something as natural to him now as breathing, almost. It was just something he did whenever they were sat together like this. But now, Benjamin was suddenly aware of the warm curve of Nellie's neck beneath his hand also, and her pulse; even in sleep, setting a rhythm that was considerably slower than the beat of his own heart, and he tried to distract himself by inspecting Nellie's hair, trying to think like a barber. He noted that is was knotted again, and made a mental note to bring a hairbrush with him next time they met up so he could detangle it. Nellie's hair was so beautiful; it was a shame to let it get into a mess like it had. Not that Nellie had time to be worrying about her hair.
That guilt, again.
Benjamin shook himself out of his reverie, and picked up his book again, utterly determined to lose himself in the story of Robinson Crusoe, but somehow the intricate tale spun by Daniel Defoe didn't seem as intriguing as it had before he had begun to observe the young woman beside him more closely. Even so, Benjamin persevered, hoping that this strange intrigue would leave him if he concentrated on the novel in his hands, although deep down he hoped that it wouldn't, for the feeling was so new and different that he couldn't quite bring himself to want it to leave entirely.
But it would be nice if it didn't take over his thoughts so, and draw his eyes to Nellie's sleeping form, to her soft pink lips, like rose petals…
Nellie woke at the sensation of something pressing against her lips briefly. Blearily, she opened her eyes, half-expecting to see an image from her dream, hoping to find that yes, she and Benjamin were really married, and he did love her…
Instead, she saw that they were in Hyde Park, and that she had fallen asleep again. Benjamin was watching her with an almost guilty expression on his face, and his cheeks were slightly flushed. A thought shot through Nellie's blurred consciousness, but she all but disregarded it before it was even fully formed. Surely Benjamin hadn't…?
"Benjamin," Nellie began, a little blearily. "Did you jus' kiss me?"
"What?" Benjamin flushed deeper. "I-I-I no, I, um, what do you, er, that is…"
Nellie felt herself blush crimson, and wondered what Benjamin must be thinking of her at that moment. Why had she had to open her big mouth and say what she thought she'd felt, but was only the remnants of a wistful dream? Now he'd know exactly how she felt, and he'd shun her…
"I-I'm sorry." She gabbled, trying to repair the damage she was sure she'd wrought. "It was stupid o' me. Ignore me. I-I don't know what got into me."
Nellie made to get up, falling back on her method of running away from problems like this, only for Benjamin to grab her arm and pull her gently but firmly back to the ground, and with his other hand clutched the redhead's chin, turning her to face him. Nellie noted the strange sparkle in the brunette's eyes.
"As I was trying to say…" Benjamin's voice was velvety soft, though it held a slight nervous tremor. "Yes, Eleanor Lovett, I did just kiss you. Can I do it again?"
Nellie gawped at her friend, but remembering quickly how lovely the sensation of his lips had been on hers, even when she was only semi-conscious, she quickly nodded.
The kiss was hesitant at first, both of them unsure of how exactly to go about it, but slowly and carefully it deepened a little, and Nellie tentatively put her hand on Benjamin's shoulder. Her lips felt on fire, and at the same time cold as ice and tingling with the same sensation as when she got pins and needles in her leg from sitting on it. But it felt so good, all those things rolled into one, and she never wanted it to stop. She could stay like this forever, frozen in time, not needing to eat, drink, sleep or even breathe so long as she was kissing Benjamin.
But after several long moments – though it could have been several centuries for Nellie – they broke apart, both flushed and blinking in slight apprehension of what this meant. Finally Nellie gave a small giggle.
"Well, now I know." She declared saucily. "You're not as innocent as you look, Benjamin Barker."
Nellie peered through the small pane of glass set into the door to Mr Todd's barber shop, his dinner on a tray clutched in her hands. The sight that met her eyes made her smile with relief. The barber was sprawled in his own chair, in what seemed a most uncomfortable position, but he was alseep. Nellie hadn't yet seen him sleep, and from the relentless pacing he did at nigth - which she'd begun to think of, however strangely, as her own personal lullaby - the baker had wondered if he ever slept at all. So much about the man had changed that Nellie could hardly believe he had ever been the innocent teenage boy that had kissed her in Hyde Park.
Opening the door carefully, so as to not wake the man, Nellie carefully set the tray down on the chest they had stored Pirelli's body in, on the off-chance Mr Todd would awake hungry, and was about to tiptoe out, when an idea came to her. Smiling, the baker stepped carefully over to the chair, avoiding the creaky floorboards, and planted a soft kiss on Mr Todd's pale cheek.
"Sweet dreams, love." Nellie murmured, and went out again, closing the door quietly, and flicking the sign to closed.
So she didn't see the small smirk that graced the barber's lips, nor hear the softly-spoken word he emitted.
"Still a vixen then, 'ey?"
