A/N: This story was inspired by a statement on Tumblr from thatginchygal along the lines that her ideal Turnadette fic would combine how Nonnatus found out about them, hair play, and smut. This is my first real foray into the world of smut, and I do greatly appreciate the beta from ginchy as well. The first portion is totally smut-free, so you can safely read the 'how Nonnatus found out' portion and then leave if smut's not your thing. But things definitely go canon-divergent after the second break, when Patrick & Shelagh are alone. Normally I like to stay canon-compliant, but finding out + smut is pretty impossible to do that way. It won't hurt my feelings at all if you want to skip this one.

Please note: This particular story is M rated

"Take it back!" Timothy shouted, face turning an angry shade of red as the other boy ran in circles away from him, "I said, Take it back!"

"Why should I? We don't know for sure! It's not like your dad is ever home to check!" the other boy taunted, as two others nodded their heads in agreement.

"I don't have nits! My… I… my…" Tim began to stumble over his words, quickly realizing that not only was he expressly told not to say anything to anyone yet, but even if he was allowed, he wouldn't know how to describe her yet. "I was checked yesterday afternoon!" he lamely finished.

Clearly the other boys didn't buy his story, his stammering and shifty gaze leading them to the conclusion that obviously he was lying. One of the smaller boys piped up, "You couldn't have been! Your dad was at my neighbor's flat yesterday; she was screaming something awful!"

Timothy's face continued to redden and he scrunched up his face in determination, he would not be called a liar. Rationalizing to himself that the defense of his honor among his classmates was reason enough to break his promise not to tell anyone anything about the events of the previous few days, and that likely this rule was not going to be a rule much longer, Tim shouted much too loudly "I'm not a liar! I was checked by my new mum!"

The proclamation caused all to stop dead in their tracks, including the two nurses passing around the corner on their bikes as they returned to Nonnatus House. Nurses Lee and Franklin exchanged confused glances, both reassuring the other that yes, that really was Timothy Turner who proclaimed he had a new mother. "He must be pretending," Trixie spoke, looking with pity upon the poor boy who had dealt with so much over the previous two years. His mother's illness had shaken him to the core, and her death left him alone with only an unkempt doctor who was gone at all hours to care for him. "Dr. Turner cannot have been seeing anyone without us knowing, all he ever does is work. The poor boy wants a mum so bad he's inventing one."

The two walked with their bikes closer to where Timothy stood with his back to them, not wanting to startle the boy or make him think he was in trouble for his outburst, but stopped short as he continued to speak, spurred on by the unbelieving looks he was being given by his friends.

"She did, she checked my whole head yesterday! Not a single nit," he started to press on with his defense when the realization hit that it was no longer his proclamation of being free of headlice that they did not believe, "they're not married yet, but she is going to be my mum. We asked her day before yesterday and she said yes! I helped him ask!"

"Really, a new mum? What's she like?" "I bet she's going to be evil to you like that stepmother in Cinderella" "Yeah, does she have mean kids too?" all the boy's questions seemed to overlap at once.

"No! No! She's not mean and she never will be! I don't think she's ever been mean a day in her life!" Tim felt proud to rush to the defense of Shelagh now, feeling every bit the gallant knight of fairy tales. "She is funny and kind and helps me with my homework - she even helped me get a post-mortem on a dead butterfly so we could determine the cause of death! She's the coolest person I've ever met."

As Tim continued, Trixie felt a weight drop in her stomach, the mention of a dead butterfly bringing memories of a visit to the sanatorium to the front of her mind, "what's your new mum's name, Timothy?"

Tim spun around, startled by the voice of the nurse behind him, and his face, which had finally returned to its normal shade, colored again with the blush of shame that he had outed his parent's secret. "Shelagh…" he whispered.

"I don't know anyone by the name of Sheila, do you?" Jenny directed a quizzical gaze at Trixie, who looked just as perplexed as she, which in turn seemed to confuse Timothy all the more.

"What do you mean?" Tim asked, highly confused as to why two women she had lived with for years wouldn't know who she was, "you know, Shelagh… Sister Bernadette!"

The boy jumped with fright at the metal clanging of Nurse Lee's bike hitting the pavement, but it was the next sound that made his face lose all its color - "Timothy," the voice of his father saying his name with such forced calmness terrified him to his core, "get in the car. We're going home."

He wasn't sure what exactly transpired between his dad and the nurses in that moment, he had never jumped in his father's MG faster in his life, but surely that wasn't squealing and giggling he heard? Pure shock had covered Nurse Lee's face and his father had been livid with him, so the cacophony of laughter he thought he heard as he slammed the door could not have been real.

As his father eased behind the wheel, Timothy thought he saw the faintest of smiles playing across his father's lips, but any trace of it disappeared when he offered a heartfelt "sorry."


Knuckles turning white, Patrick gripped the steering wheel tightly, so many emotions at war within him. Joy was prevalent these last two days since he was officially assured of Shelagh's love for him by the simple ring she wore upon her finger. There was relief, his meeting with Sister Julienne had gone well - he had worried that she would be upset at the news of their engagement, that she would be mad because he didn't speak to her first or that she might be carrying residual anger at him for Shelagh leaving the order. But Sister Julienne had seemed genuinely happy for them, almost relieved that Shelagh had figured out her place in the world.

And yet all that joy and peace was marred with anger at Timothy for breaking his promise. But for all the disappointment he felt with his son, it was hard to stay mad when the nurses had expressed so much happiness for the couple. Trixie hugged him tightly, which had taken him by surprise and they both begged him to send their love to Shelagh, expressing their joy over and over again, proclaiming how much she deserved happiness and how wonderful she was and all those things Patrick had known deep within his soul for far longer than he should have.

Looking over at his son and hearing that faint apology reminded him of the broken promise that had taken Shelagh's control over the announcement away. He hoped she wouldn't be too angry, but he would understand if she were. Patrick decided it was best to stay silent until he had relayed the events of the afternoon to Shelagh and calmed down with a cigarette or three.


With a contented sigh, Patrick leaned back against Shelagh's chest, "are you sure you're okay?" he asked for the hundredth time that evening, though for the first since Tim had gone to bed. Perhaps now she could be more open without fear of hurting the boy's feelings. "I know you wanted to figure out a better way to tell the nurses."

Shelagh pushed Patrick upright again, tilting his head down as she ran the comb through the hair at the nape of his neck from her perch halfway on the arm of the couch. "I told you, I'm fine. I had worried about how to tell them and now it is done for me. Maybe I should thank Timothy?" she grinned even though she knew he couldn't see her face. "Maybe he should make all our announcements for us, he is very effective! Now hold still or I'll never finish checking you over for nits."

"You didn't find any in Tim's hair, I'm sure you won't find any in mine. You don't have to worry over this" he mumbled into his chest, finding it harder to talk as Shelagh rotated his head to the side.

"Better safe than sorry with these creatures - they've been running rampant all over Poplar. Besides, maybe I just wanted an excuse to try to tame this unruly hair of yours." Shelagh blushed a bit at her own boldness. What an unexpected turn her life had taken in the last few days. Had she really left the order and accepted a marriage proposal? Yet was it unexpected, she asked herself, looking down at her legs straddling Patrick on his couch, her right wedged into the deep abyss of cushions and her left laying bare at his side, with his fingers trailing lazily up and down its length. She had long yearned for this kind of moment, this kind of intimacy with the man she loved. Shelagh couldn't pinpoint the exact moment in time when things had changed, but she knew that there had been a moment when her whole life shifted and it led nowhere except this moment. She had taken the step down this path, wherever it might lead, and she was determined to walk it boldly.

Patrick started to retort, his voice still stifled by his position, but it quickly turned to a moan as Shelagh dropped the comb and dug both her hands into his soft black hair. "Shelagh…" he sucked in a breath as her nails traced along his scalp, gently massaging away any worries the day held.

Stopping for a moment, a grumble escaping Patrick's lips at the loss of her touch, Shelagh shifted him forward to slide down completely behind him, then leaned his head back upon her chest. One hand wrapped itself over his shoulder, resting her arm upon his chest, and the other found its way back to his head, twirling the strands that kept trying to fall into his eyes around her fingers. Patrick closed his eyes, lost in the touch of the woman he loved as she continued to rake her fingers through his hair.

He awoke some time later with Shelagh asleep behind him, the fingers of her right hand still embedded in their place upon his scalp. Her steady, deep breaths reminded him with each rise and fall of her chest that his head was now placed firmly between her breasts, I could grow used to waking like this. Patrick picked up the tiny hand upon his chest and kissed each finger gently, easing Shelagh out of her slumber. When she realized she had dozed off, Shelagh tried to scramble off the couch, but Patrick kept her pinned down under his weight. "There's no point, dear, you're long past curfew at the boarding house."

She glanced at the clock and gasped at the sight. 2am. No, she definitely wasn't making it back to her lodgings tonight. Her earlier desire for boldness began to disappear as her sense of propriety invaded, wondering what the neighbors would think if they saw her leaving in the morning wearing the same dress she had arrived in and what the landlady would say about her overnight absence.

Feeling her tense beneath him, God does she know what her hips are doing to me, Patrick tried to ease her mind, "Please don't be worried, I'm glad you're still here and we don't need to worry what anyone else might say."

Shelagh let out a sigh of resignation, "I suppose there's nothing to be done about it now, but could you let me sit up, please? I think my leg has gone numb in these cushions!"

Patrick sat up and pulled her tiny frame into his lap, realizing a moment too late that such a move might have been a mistake. Not only had her skirt shifted upward in the maneuver, leaving only the fabric of her knickers as a barrier between herself and his trousers, but he had also placed her directly on top of the unmistakable evidence of his arousal. They had only shared a few chaste kisses up to this point and now he had pushed her too far too fast, worry creasing his brow as he feared that it was too much, that she would run away and never return. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" Patrick tried to stammer out an apology, but he found it hard to think straight at the feeling of her bottom pressed firmly into his hardening length.

Shelagh cupped his face with her hands, pulling him into a soft kiss, her boldness returning with a vengeance at the feel of him as a heat began to coil deep in her belly. "I know" she whispered huskily, smiling at him before pulling him into another kiss, daring to run her tongue along the seam of his lips, reassuring him that she was not going anywhere.

A low groan escaped Patrick as he thrust his tongue forward to meet hers, a newfound passion flaring up between them as the clash of tongues and teeth continued until the need for air forced them apart. He pressed their foreheads together, trying to will himself to calm, to return his breathing to normal. "Shelagh," his voice shaky but determined to continue, he needed to know her boundaries, "I love you, and I think you can tell-" the words dropped to a whisper, almost inaudible even in the silence of the flat, "I want you, God do I want you, but I will not push beyond what you want."

Her gaze fluttered up to meet his and the sight of her eyes dark with desire caused the breath to catch in his throat. She kissed him gently on the lips as she began to unbutton his shirt, "I love you too," placing another gentle kiss upon his cheek and undoing another button, "and I hope that," a kiss upon his jawline accompanied the next button, "you can tell," his shirt was completely open now and a kiss was placed just behind his ear before she whispered into it, her warm breath setting his blood on fire, "I want you too."

Patrick's breathing grew shallow, heart racing faster with each kiss she gave to him, but he wanted to be certain he knew exactly how far she wanted to go. Placing his hands on her shoulders and pushing her back to look her directly in the eyes again he asked, "are you sure about this?"

"I'm not a nun anymore, Patrick, and we'll be wed soon," her voice became filled with need, as desire for this man she loved overcame her, "please."

She didn't have to ask him twice. Shelagh yanked his vest over his head as he tossed the unbuttoned shirt behind the couch and she began peppering kisses over his chest and shoulders. Patrick hummed in enjoyment as his hand slowly snaked its way up her thigh and under the elastic of her knickers before grasping her arse firmly, Shelagh yelped in surprise before quickly remembering the need to be quiet for Timothy's sake and clamping her mouth shut. She couldn't suppress the moans, however, that came when his hand moved around the front of her thigh and his fingers found their way to caress her center.

But Patrick couldn't touch her properly in this position, and, with one more glance to make sure she was comfortable with the lightning speed progression of their physical relationship, he laid her back on the couch. Shelagh's breathing became erratic as his hand kneaded her breasts beneath the fabric of her jumper, practically growling her appreciation into his lips as their tongues found each other once more.

Then, in one fluid movement, Patrick pushed her skirt above her hips and pulled off her knickers. With a nod of her head, he guided himself into her. He swallowed her resulting outcry with a passionate kiss, hoping to God that they didn't wake Timothy but not wanting to stop hearing her whines of pleasure, knowing that he alone was the source of them. By instinct, her hips began to match the rhythm of his, thrusting up and down in a mad dance of ecstasy until she broke beneath him. Patrick knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life memorizing the sights and sounds of her. The thought of it overcame him and he could hold back no more.

As their breathing began to calm, Patrick lay himself down, pulling her on top of him, and he gently kissed the crown of her head. "Are you alright, Shelagh? I hope I didn't hurt you."

She buried her face into the tight muscles of his chest, "Wonderful," she sighed, "but I'm afraid I might be missing curfew again tomorrow night too."