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notyour-valentine · 1 year

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Because it's there ~ Tommy Shelby One Shot

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Summary: At one of Ada's parties, Tommy has an interesting conversation. Also Tommy's a bit fruity in this though not necessarily more than canon

Note: Told a few tales about this guy and now I've dreamt about him for three nights in a row now so this is a gratuitous self-serving attempt to get this man out of my system

All my writing is produced by an adult and created with an adult audience in mind (18/21+). You are responsible for your own media consumption. I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Warnings: alcohol consumption

Wordcount: 1900 words

Tommy hated everything about this.

He hated the music that was blaring from a gramophone, some sensory torture they now called music.

He mistrusted Ada’s guests, a host of flamboyant Bohemians she had plucked off the streets of London. If he had known his sister would open a madhouse for the peculiars in the capitol, he’d have bought her a house between a nunnery and a church, but here he was, surrounded by artists, writers, poets and socialites and he truly doubted any one of them had truly worked a day in their life.

They were acting like they didn’t, with their newer, more daring styles.

Some men had let their hair grow long while some women had chopped it short - and others wore trousers and suspenders much to the delight of both men and women gathered.

But of course this wretched gathering of eccentrics enjoyed it all, the expensive food they gobbled up as if there was no tomorrow, washing it down with that milky green mixture they seemed to brew more than pour.

Absinth - some fashionable drink that had crossed the channel from Paris and Berlin.

It was an awful fuss - there was a large basin with four little taps sat on the table and people placed their glasses with a bit of liquor underneath but instead of mixing it with water straight, one had to place a little tray over it, with a sugar cube on top only to have to wait until the water would - not pour - down in an agonisingly slow pace until it dissolved the cube and created that cloudy drink that could fog a mind more than any other.

Tommy instead, stuck to his whisky. It was less fuss and more reliable.

But still, he had no intention of getting drunk tonight, although that would make all this more bearable, but Ada had asked him to be here and she was about the only person he would suffer through this for.

She was having a blast, loudly discussing the role of women with some sharp-nosed brunette.

She was probably someone important, but Tommy couldn’t place her.

He was sure he had the names of at least two thirds of these people in the papers, and had skipped half the articles because he had no time to waste on these starlets of the London scene.

In a moment of being unnoticed he took his glass and snuck outside on the balcony.

London was a city that never slept, never rested, but even the stinking, smoking air of the city was better than the stuffy haze of shared breath and cigarette smoke had created inside.

Compared to that, this was almost refreshing.

With a sigh he placed his glass on the banister and reached inside his jacket to retrieve his cigarette case and lighter.

As he flicked the flame to life, the reflection caught the glimmer of something metal in the darkness out of the corner of his eye and he turned, realising he wasn’t alone.

In the moonlight it wasn’t too difficult to make out the outline of another man, one who seemingly didn’t mind the risk of sitting atop the banister, one leg drawn up, the other dangling over the edge.

“Cities have their advantages, but when it comes to their skies, it’s nothing but a bloody shame.”, he mused, before looking at Tommy for confirmation.

He remembered the man, recalling he had arrived with the writer Starchey a little later than the others.

Tommy guessed he was about his own age, give or take a few years, and undoubtedly a handsome man.

He was taller than he was, with a lanky build, though his limps were strangely harmoniously shaped. There wasn’t much muscle he could see under his clothes, but as far as he could tell not an ounce of fat either.

He had the kind of hair that looked to have been blonde in his youth and only darkened with age and he had the kind of face that looked as if had been carved from marble.

He had a shapely nose and didn’t suffer from the English affliction of overly thin lips, but his eyes were the most striking feature - large and pale, like a full moon reflecting on the lake.

There were the first signs of age on his face, though Tommy wasn’t sure if they made him more or less likely to become a muse of a painter or two back inside the house. Either way, they did nothing to dull the youthfullnes in his eyes, nor the sharpness in his gaze.

The flame of his lighter, he realised, must’ve reflected off of the man’s watch.

He was dressed to the nines, in simple colours, but Tommy knew by now the look of expensive clothes, and yet the watch he wore was the standard edition one handed out to every man back in the war. Since he had heard his fair share of illusioned pacifist rhetoric back there, he was more than glad to be in the company of someone who had not only served, but made no attempt to hide the fact, even in present company.

That instantly made him appreciate the man more than any other he had encountered.

“True.”, Tommy mumbled under his breath as he retrieved his silver cigarette case once more, holding it out to the man.

He declined with a smooth shake of the head.

“I’m more of a pipe man myself.”, he admitted before letting his eyes trail back towards the sky.

Compared to the country, one didn’t see half as many stars, Tommy thought.

When he looked back, the other man was looking at him curiously.

“Everyone’s devlishly curious about you, you know?”, he said.

Tommy shifted his weight, glancing back at the room. He had never liked attention, and with this crowd - well - the man he was talking to had come with Starchey, and that man had a reputation. He doubted his companion would be any differend.

“I’m not -ah- like that...”, he admitted, clearing his throught as he brought the cigarette to his lips, wondering just what Ada had told them.

The man chuckled under his breath.

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it, man.”, he said, unable to hide the amusement in his voice. “But don’t worry, I don’t have time for anymore distractions in the near future.”

Of all the things Tommy had been called, curses and praise, a distraction was a new one.

“And that’s not what I meant either.”, the man continued, dropping his leg and shifting so he had on the edge of the banister facing Tommy, his back to nothing but thin air and the darkness behind him.

“Everything is baffled by the rise - a gypsy boy from Birmingham clawing his way up to, well,”, he waved around, “Primrose Hill in what? Three years?”

Tommy only stared at him, wondering what he was aiming at. He already had a hinting suspicion.

They might accept Ada, she shared their politics, communism and the like, those ideals that feined interest of the poor but were only truly carried by the rich and privileged, and because a woman.

At the same time Tommy was only the man who had climbed above his station, and far too high for some.

His glare only ever made the other man smile.

“And your sister, well, she thinks you are like a bloodhound, always running after the scent of blood - or in your case - money; never content with what you have, always continuing the chase, always wanting more.”

Tommy scoffed and shook his head.

He had heard that accusation a thousand times over, from Arthur, and John, from Esme and Polly - and now Ada. Funny how all the people who profited most off of his hard work, and his sacrifice.

“You’ll get used to it.”, the man said.

“What?”, Tommy asked, leaning closer to make sure he heard him correctly.

“You’ll get used to it.”, he promised. “Them not understanding, them questioning, them doubting.”

His pale eyes met Tommy’s.

“Most people don’t understand why one can not just want something but work towards it no matter the consequences, no matter the risks, that we need the challenges, the struggles, not to conquer them but to conquer ourselves over and over again.”

He smirked to himself as if he had just told Tommy a secret joke.

“They don’t understand why we can still desperately want something even if we do not need it, and are willing to do anything to get it just because it’s there for us to take.”

A cloud of smoke escaped his lips and evaporated in the air between them.

“Who are you?”, Tommy asked, a frown between his brows.

“Don’t you know?”, the man asked, genuinely surprised.

He shook his head, and to his surprise, and maybe a little hint of relief, the other man didn’t seem to be insulted.

“Well you’ll find out soon enough.”

“Will I?”, Tommy asked. “Why?”

He only smiled.

“You’ll see.”, he promised.

At that moment there was a shout coming from inside.

“In a bit!”, the man shouted back, stopping in his tracks to look at Tommy once more, a soft smile on his lips.

“Do you know what a Sherpa is, Shelby?”

“No.”, he said truthfully.

“Hm - thought so.”, he said with a smirk. “They’re a peoples, exemplary Darwinists if you’d ask me.”

Tommy hadn’t but that didn’t deter the man.

“They have live in the mountains for generations now, and so while the rest of us flatlanders are like a bunch of panting dogs at a certain altitude, they hardly feel a thing.”

“Alright.”, Tommy mumbled, not knowing what to do with this information, and not particularly caring about it either.

“They are adapted, you see? Because that is their world, the world their people have been born into for generations and so they can do with ease what can prove treacherous for most anyone else.”

His eyes met Tommy’s with renewed intensity.

“Everyone is adapted to the environment they are born into, Shelby, and when you rise above that, the air gets thinner and thinner but only for those not used to it.”

Tommy’s gaze narrowed, watching the moon play tricks on the other man’s face.

“Are you saying I don’t belong here?”, he asked sharply. “That just because I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in me mouth I’d keep to Birmingham and Birmingham only?”

The other man’s face split into a wide smirk.

“You misunderstand me Shelby, you truly do.”, he said, his voice as light as if they were old pals sharing a joke.

“I may be one of the very few people here - if not in this entire city who neither resents nor riidicules you for what you’ve done and for what you plan to do. Like I said, you and I are more similar than you’d know.”

He leaned in, so close that Tommy could smell his cologne and the natural, earthy smell of his woolen jumper.

“So let me give you some advice - hope and will can only carry you a step or two but if you want to truly reach the top you need to learn your own limitations if you want to adapt or overcome them.”

He drew back and met his gaze for a final time.

“And if you don’t you’ll find yourself in bloody big trouble.”

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed and as always I'd love to hear your thoughts! Anyone who figures out who Tommy was talking to gets a big hug and an extra pack of cookies

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@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @chlorrox @watercolorskyy @books-livre @quarterpastmidnight @lilyevanswhore @polishcrazyone @zablife @just-a-harmless-patato @stevie75 @flyingjosephine-blog @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @babayaga67 @butterfly-skinnylegend @shelbydelrey @mrkdvidal1989 @raincoffeeandfandoms @midnightmagpiemama @adaydreamaway08 @trixie23

Tommy

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