(A little modern AU Alfie and Niamh)
"I don't know what it is about the cardigan but I'm certain I can feel my ovaries popping just a little."
Alfie paused as he stepped through the front door. Usually if a man's wife was to talk about her ovaries popping, one would expect it to be followed by a sound of excruciating agony. This wasn't the case and therefore Alfie was alarmed.
"It's alright for you, Ada, you've at least got kids," he heard Niamh giggle. "I'm childless and sat here watching a bloody CBeebies bedtime story just because Tom Hardy's reading it. I've even got myself a glass of wine to enjoy it properly."
Alfie walked quietly towards the living room, shushing Cyril who was watching him quizzically and peered around the door. Niamh was on the couch with her back to him, phone in one hand held to her ear and the other hand wrapped around a glass of rose that was almost as big as her head. His eyes fell upon the television where a man he vaguely recognised wearing a thick black and red patterned cardigan sat in a garden reading what looked to be a children's book. A fucking children's book! Yet his wife was enthralled and hadn't taken her eyes off the screen. Ada must have said something because Niamh threw back her and laughed that laugh he usually loved but for some reason this time he found himself scowling at.
"Is it wrong of me to admit that I don't even have a clue what the fucking story is about because all I can think about is what's underneath that cardigan?"
She and Ada burst out laughing again like two schoolgirls and Alfie had heard enough. So this is what she did all day, hmm? He went to work like a fucking chump while she sat ogling blokes reading books meant for children. It was almost perverted if he was being honest. Dirty little madam. Heading upstairs, Alfie didn't even bother getting washed and changed before he was calling his brother in law's number on the bedside table's phone.
"Hello?"
"Tommy? It's me, Alfie. I need to talk to you. Yes I know it's dinner time but It's important; it's about your sister."
"Niamh? Is she alright? What's happened?" Tommy was anxious to receive such a random phone call at this time of evening.
"Oh yeah she's fucking fine, mate," Alfie grumbled. "She's downstairs on the phone to that other sister of yours getting her knickers wet over some bloke in a fucking cardigan with a right posh voice."
"You what?" Tommy frowned. "You know what, actually I don't think I want to know."
"Well I don't care if you wanna know or not cos I'm gonna fuckin' tell you," Alfie scoffed. "Well, I'm gonna ask you really 'cause I need to know who the fuck this Tom Hardy fella is and where I can find him."
Tommy chuckled down the phone and Alfie could just imagine him, sitting back in his plush leather chair with that smarmy smug look upon his face.
"This aint no laughing matter, Tommy," Alfie huffed. "My wife's giggling on the phone with Ada over this Tom bloke like she's a teenager."
"That's because when it comes to him she probably still feels like one," Tommy smirked. "He was Niamh's first love, and in fact he was one of the only things that she and Ada ever both agreed to liking for years. God, I remember how the two of them decorated their bedroom in posters and pictures of him that they cut out of magazines. Niamh even had a pillow made with his face on and she wouldn't ever let Polly put it in the wash in case it got ruined."
"Aw right well that's lovely, innit," Alfie muttered sarcastically. "But she aint a teenager now so maybe she needs to tone it down a bit, yeah?"
"Good luck with that," Tommy snorted. "Listen Alfie, I wouldn't be worrying over him. Niamh loves you, as much as it pains me to say it, and even if she did love him a tiny bit more, it's highly unlikely she'll ever meet him anyway."
"Oh well that makes me feel loads fucking better, don't it?" Alfie tutted. "Yeah cheers, Tom."
"You're welcome," Tommy chuckled again. "Anyway, I'd better go Alfie because I'm certain I can hear Ruby shouting me."
"Yeah and I've just seen a pig fly right past the window," Alfie muttered as the line went dead.
He heard Niamh laughing downstairs again and it only helped to sour his mood further. Throwing himself backwards onto the bed with a huff, he reached out to scratch at Cyril's ears when the mutt jumped up to lay down beside him.
"I aint jealous," Alfie muttered to Cyril quietly. "I mean why would I be jealous of a bloke what looks like that? I'm absolutely not jealous but I do think it's downright rude of my wife to be ogling another man when she's meant to only be ogling me."
Cyril let out a huff and eyed his master with eyes that were disbelieving. Alfie sighed. Even the dog knew him far too well. So what if he was jealous? It was just his fucking nature, weren't it? Well, if Tom Hardy was what Niamh wanted, it was Tom Hardy she could have.
… … …
Two days later
Niamh was fit to drop. Her hands were full of shopping bags and her feet were actually burning from having walked around so much. She and Ollie's wife, Karina, had decided to take a day to themselves and went for lunch then to do some shopping. Karina was expecting again and the hours spent looking at baby clothes and soft blankets had made Niamh think about what it would be like when she and Alfie one day had children. They hadn't ever discussed actively trying to get pregnant, but they hadn't actively been trying to stop it either. Sometimes Niamh worried that perhaps there was something wrong and that's why they hadn't gotten pregnant yet, but Polly was adamant it would happen one day. And when it came to babies, Polly Gray was never wrong.
"Alfie!" she called out, opening the front door and dumping the bags on the bottom step of the staircase.
"In here," she heard him grunt.
"Hello gorgeous boy," she bent down to stroke Cyril who was ecstatic as usual to see her. "Let's go and find Daddy, hmm? I missed you both today."
Walking into the living room, Niamh's eyes fell upon Alfie who was sitting in his armchair next to the fireplace. She frowned when she noticed the thick black and red cardigan cardigan he was wearing. She didn't know he even owned any cardigans let alone one that was as colourful as this one.
"Ah Niamh," he smiled, his voice softer than usual and without that usual cockney twang of his. "You're just in time for a story."
"You what?"
"Take a seat over on the sofa and we'll begin."
"Alfie, are you feeling alright?" she put a hand to his forehead and furrowed her brow.
"Of course, I am," he smiled. "Why wouldn't I be? Now sit yourself down because you're really gonna enjoy this one."
Niamh narrowed her eyes hesitantly and sat down opposite her husband, who cleared his throat and opened the first page of the book on his lap. Niamh glanced at the cover and was fairly certain that this was in fact a children's book. Now, she was really concerned that Alfie was having some sort of mental breakdown.
"I'll have you know that 'Don't Worry, Little Crab' is a lovely book with a very poignant message for both children and adults alike," Alfie answered curtly when she voiced this concern out loud to him. "You would know that though if you had actually been listening the other evening instead of dealing with your ovaries popping."
"Alfie, what on earth are you going on about?" Niamh pulled a face.
"You know what," Alfie raised an eyebrow at her. "'Oh Ada, all I can think about is what's underneath Tom Hardy's cardigan'."
"I really don't understand what you're- oh," Niamh stopped suddenly. She tilted her head towards her husband and grinned. "Alfie Solomons, are you jealous of Tom Hardy?"
"No," he pulled a face. "I'm not jealous of that muppet in the slightest, but I am offended that my wife gets her kicks off watching a middle aged man in a cardigan read kids stories."
"Is that what this get up is all for?" she smirked, tugging on the zip of the cardigan he wore.
"Well, I just thought if you would rather be fucking Tom Hardy then me, I'd give you what you want," Alfie muttered.
Niamh burst out laughing, not even caring about the scowl her husband sent in her direction. She climbed on Alfie's knee and grabbed hold of his face in her hands.
"You, Alfie Solomons, are so funny and I love you," she smiled.
"Not as much as you love Tom bleedin' Hardy I bet," Alfie said petulantly.
"No," she shook her head. "You're right, because I love you even more than I could ever love him. Alf, it's just a silly crush, we all have them. And don't try and tell me you don't because I know you really fancy that blonde girl that does the weather forecast, and Ollie's mum told me that when you were a child you had a crush on Ollie's big sister and used to moon about over her like a lovesick puppy."
"Yeah well that's different," he muttered, looking away from Niamh like someone who had been caught out.
"It's not," she chuckled. "And we literally see her at every family gathering or party that Ollie has- which is a lot, by the way- and I never get all weird and start dying my hair a funny colour or wearing one of those pant suits that she's really fond of wearing."
"Who says I wore this cardigan because of Tom Hardy?" Alfie harrumphed. "I happened to just like it, didn't I?"
"Is that right?" Niamh purred into Alfie's ear as her hand slid underneath his shirt. "Because I happen to think I'd like it a lot more if it was in a pile on the floor with the rest of your clothes."
"Hmm," Alfie closed his eyes as her hands continued to wander while she pressed kisses against his neck.
"What do you say, Mr Solomons?" Niamh smirked against his earlobe as she nibbled on it slightly. "You gonna take me upstairs and show me just what's underneath that cardigan of yours?"
"I'd say I'm right down for that, love. Although, do you reckon you could just give me a few minutes 'cause I'd really like to finish the last two pages of this book. Just wanna see if the little crab makes it home or not."
Niamh snorted thinking that Alfie was just teasing her but the look on his face told her otherwise. So deciding that if she couldn't beat him she may as well join him, she nestled into him comfortably and had him read it to her right from the beginning.
She didn't need Tom Hardy because her Alfie was a million times better and he always would be.