Missed Kisses
A/N Rewatching etc. Just wanted to say that there are several scenes in this show that get cut off before the end of conversations where there is potential fluff emitted and that is unjust. *puts foot down* So this just me putting that back in. I have rewritten the scene in S5E4 before, it's called I Wonder, but I was never happy with the way I wrote it, so it's different here.
Poplar, London 1960 - Christmas
The were standing in a telephone box on the corner of Whittle Street. Outside it was snowing, a thin layer forming on the ground, trodden in by countless boot prints. Because it was so dark, it felt a lot later than it was and the air seemed to spark with the magic of midnight. When in reality is was only quarter past eight. Delia had told her mam and auntie Blod that she was going to the library for a book. Reading was a pastime she had pretended to be interested in after her accident to distract her mam from asking her too many questions. She found discussing a book would quickly reroute her attention when she didn't want to talk about how she was feeling. But then on one unmemorable trip to a library a woman had raised an eyebrow at her in the romance section and offered her a small paperback with a mildly racy cover and now she was hooked on Mills and Boon.
But that was besides the point, she was waiting for Patsy to appear behind the box. She'd rung a few minutes before, telling her she was in need of attention, which she desperately was. Her hand was poised against the glass as the snow fell harder. She saw Patsy's tall, lithe figure turn the corner before her in a coat over her uniform. Delia stepped out of the box and ran towards her, throwing herself into her love's arms and taking the coat's old leather smell mixed with the bleach of Patsy's hair and the richness of her perfume. All three things put together smelt more like home than Pembrokeshire ever did anymore. She held her firmly for a few minutes before pulling back and smiling for a minute before they moved back inside the phone box.
Patsy pulled the door closed and put her hand high on the glass behind Delia's head. As she glanced down at her, she felt her cheeks warming, butterflies swarming her stomach. Seeing Delia, even after such a short period of time, never ceased to excite her. It'd been so long with nothing. She was talking to her about headaches and the doctors, she was looking around them then down. Patsy suspected down at her lips and back up again, she had a habit of doing that. The corner of her mouth quirked upwards, as her eyes flicked down once again. Patsy took a quick glance through the glass around but the street was empty, so she leaned down and kissed her softly. Delia's head was pushed back against the glass, her lips moving quickly to gain as much contact as she could before she was forced to pull away. The fear of being caught still ever present in the back of her mind.
She took Patsy's hand and then placed her other hand on her cheek, trying to avoid smudging her makeup. The redhead bit her lip, dipping her head slightly, "you have to come back to London."
Delia nodded, "I know. We've waited so long, I don't want to wait anymore."
Poplar, London 1961 - S5E03
They were sitting on Delia's bed, the room having been unpacked from her small collection of cardboard boxes. Patsy had spent the better part of two hours making sure all her items were stored away in the recesses of the room. And Delia had watched her, with a spark in her eye and a glance down her full figure whenever she allowed herself. For once, no one had walked in, and as a surprise Patsy had managed to procure a small bunch of flowers from downstairs so she could decorate a vase on the mantel. It was to be their very own place to escape to.
"I've waited such a long time to sit beside you looking at a bunch of flowers in a vase." Patsy said sucking in a breath between her teeth as she wagered whether mentioning the flat was a good idea. But then Delia smiled.
"Under the same roof at last, just you and me." She was looking at her with that cheeky darkened look in her eye like she was imagining all the things they could get up to in this room. Patsy was still thinking about the flat, for the last year it had been stuck in her mind, playing over and over like a bad record. What was, what could have been. But she shook herself out it, they were past that, they were here now, in Delia's room at Nonnatus House. Under the same roof, at last. Then she went on, "-and Trixie, and Barbara-"
"and Nurse Crane,"
"And quite a few nuns," Delia finished. Patsy threw her head forward then back in a laugh that engulfed all her features. Delia leaned into her, her eyes searching her whilst they shared in their glee.
"Deels?" She said, leaning forward. She was going to say something else, but it slipped her mind as soon as Delia turned towards her.
"Yes?" She said expectantly, her eyes scanning Patsy's face.
But she just waved her away, "oh, nothing I-" But she was interrupted by Delia kissing her quickly, attempting to pour all the love and excitement she was feeling into the embrace with the added bonus of stopping Patsy from worrying.
Poplar, London 1961 - S5E04
They were standing against the sideboard in the kitchen.
Delia had checked the rota (as she was often to ascertain Patsy's daily movements) and everyone was out or asleep. For the last hour or so, she'd been standing around in the kitchen waiting for Patsy to come home. She had wanted this moment to be private, like they were in the flat and she was just poised by the stove waiting for her love to return from work. Like a wife, awaiting the arrival of her husband. When she thought of that, her heart ached a little, a thread tugged at her and knotted itself in her stomach. She wouldn't think about that anymore. She distracted herself by brushing her hair back off her face, picking the milk up off the table and pouring it into a small saucepan.
When Patsy walked into the building she held a sigh in her shoulder. She placed her cardigan and bag down on the dining table and turned towards the kitchen. When she saw a familiar figure standing by the stove. Seeing Delia made her pulse quicken and her lips pull into a strong smile. She'd waited up for her.
So they'd said hello, and embraced, and held each other. And then Delia pushed Patsy against the sideboard. The redhead looked up at her, a smile teetering on the edge of her lips as she watched Delia fuss over her. Love and care fluttered through her, it was in these moments that she found herself wondering what she'd done to be so lucky as to have a woman like Delia Busby look at her like that. The brunette moved her hand to her shoulder and squeezed lightly, her other hand still gripping her waist tightly.
Patsy reached up to tuck a piece of hair behind Delia's ear. An action which lead Delia to lean down and push their foreheads together. "Is this all you dreamed of, Pats?" She asked quietly, "me?"
Patsy's eyes opened brightly from being momentarily lost in the moment, expecting lips upon hers, not words. "Deels, darling, you are more than I ever wished for." Delia breathed out gently, relief warm as she dove forward and pulled Patsy into a lively kiss, hauling her upwards until she standing over her, lips clashing wildly.
Poplar, London 1962 - S6E01
"I've lost track of the times you've crept into my room now." Delia said, a snide sadness in her voice as she awaited Patsy's impending apology. She always did this, lashed out when she had other things on her mind. She'd often been at the end of Patsy's short temper, but always quickly forgave her. She knew her partner had been subject to a harsh childhood, she was used to hiding things, used to using snippy anger as a defence mechanism even though the war was long over. "I never tire of looking for the look upon your face. Is it gonna be excited Pats or happy Pats, sad Pats or troubled Pats?" She looked down at Patsy's averted eyes and let out a slow breath, "and I love all of those girls. Even this one."
Patsy looked up at her, "what apologetic Pats?"
"Apologetic Pats and I do have what you might call a glancing acquaintance," Delia said.
"I owe you an apology," Patsy replied. Delia had known it was coming of course. She could sense guilty Pats from a mile off. The fierce redhead didn't often recognise her own emotions until she'd sat with them for a while. And thus the tendency to lash out. "For being brusque and not telling you why," she continued, her eyes flicking upwards honestly to catch Delia's gaze. Then knowing she would have to explain because the two of them keeping secrets really never went over well, she sat up. "And for something else, which may never happen. But if it does, is going to hurt us both so much."
Delia raised herself up. This confession surprised her, she'd been expecting something like an upsetting patient, but now she was left asking. "What?"
"I've had a letter from Hong Kong."
"From your father?"
"From his nurse. He's developed a degenerative condition of the nervous system."
"Well, do you need to visit him?" Delia asked, thinking the answer would most likely be yes, but hoping for no. Every piece of medical knowledge in her mind about degenerative conditions fell out of her mind at that moment.
"Spoke to his nurse, he's paralysed. He wants me to go to him, but I don't know what to do." The tears stung in Patsy's throat, this had been running around her brain all day. She kept picturing herself alone by her father's bedside, him attempting a smile but her crying because she'd be alone. Everyone would think the tears were for her father but she'd be weeping over the distance between her and the woman she loved. She couldn't leave her. It would break both of their hearts, when they'd worked so hard to be so close.
Delia leaned forwards, moving herself into Patsy's field of vision. "But he's your father, isn't he?" She lifted Patsy's hand and kissed the back of it softly, "and this might be your last chance to see him."
Patsy began to shiver and cry, the tears falling down her face in hot waves, her mascara managing to hold itself for just a moment. She pitched herself forward and forcefully kissed her, then as a new rush of tears fell, her lips softened. "I don't want to leave you." She said poignantly, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. Delia pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and dried her face, cupping her cheek affectionately.
"You have time to decide though, Pats." She said but it didn't seem to help so she kissed Patsy's forehead, "and I will be here for you, whatever you do decide." This helped a little.