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moral-terpitude · 1 year

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Misadventures - Part 5

Open the door you'll see me digging out my getaway · hang the stars who pulled the pin out of my heart · and just because you're screaming for my attention · does not mean I will waste my time · so hold your breath and swim under the ice

I told myself originally that something was going to be added to the header every time, but I only just added to it today! The Gustave Dore engravings are just for reference because they’re all Photoshopped together and its just easier for it to be seen than make y’all picture what they’re like mashed together.

Taglist in comments cause I’m on mobile and lazy

[Series Masterlist] [Previous Part]

Word Count: 4,328

Warnings: mention of infidelity/ adultery/ cheating/ whatever word you want to use.

They had fallen into a routine, unintentionally, over the following weeks. The more Quinn was there, usually three or so nights a week, the more comfortable she found herself around Tommy, in the little bubble of his world that she got to interact with.

His brothers were supposed to be visiting, something to do with business, and she could only guess, in the politest way it was a forewarning that she wouldn’t see much of him until they left.

“How have you never seen the Godfather? Everyone has seen the godfather.”

Quinn looked up from her iPad, across the dining room table where Tommy was perched behind the computer, still in work clothes, sans vest and suit jacket.

They had agreed on Indian food at some point in the day. The containers now discarded in the trash, they had been working mostly in silence, as Tommy fielded a few phone calls and Quinn answered emails.

She shrugged, setting the pencil down and stretching, feet hovering off the floor as she did, stifling a yawn. “I’ve just never watched it.”

“I’ll queue it,” he released the hold he had on the bridge of his nose as he stood, stubbing out the almost gone cigarette in the ashtray on the table, “I need a shower, but there’s popcorn in the cupboard, if you want to make some.”

Quinn had been appalled the first time she had seen him light a cigarette inside, (she noted that his determination that he was quitting had been tossed to the side), It had been a little over a decade since she had seen anyone smoke indoors, but somewhere in the conversation Tommy had informed her, albeit reluctantly, that he owned the building, and would suffer the consequences whenever he was done living there.

She still went out on the balcony to smoke, if she did while she was there, regardless of what he told her was allowed.

“Why are you so insistent that I watch it?”

Ice clanked from the fridge door into the empty glass as Quinn waited for his answer, hand lingering on the door handle.

“It’s a classic at this point.” His tone was final as he retreated to the bedroom, leaving her to rummage through the fridge for the, now last, of the flavored water she had left there.

Quinn found herself staring off into space, the music not really touching her brain even though she could feel herself moving around to the rhythm coming through her headphones, as the residual heat from the dryer hit her legs every time she pulled out another bundle of clothes.

“This article,” he came back not even 10 minutes later, still with wet hair, pushed back off his face and struggling to pull the shirt over his head, “says it’s objectively the best movie ever.”

Quinn almost choked as she rounded the corner, basket propped on her hip. Other than the day at the studio, she had only ever seen him in jeans and tee shirts or dress clothes. Well, except for when he was fully naked that she couldn’t even remember.

She shook away the thought.

She had been doing so good at being, well, normal. Sometimes there would be a joke here or there that would make her blush, but nothing had happened.

She decided that men’s basketball shorts that didn’t come past the knee should be illegal.

So should being a messy pretty boy who looked good in just a white T shirt, clinging to the parts of him that weren’t completely dry yet.

“Love?” And that. Just the way he said it, blue eyes searching her face, “You in there, Quinn?”

She took a deep breath, blinking a few times and feeling the flush that threatened to color her ears and neck, “Sorry, rebooting.”

She dropped her headphones back into the case, putting the dryer sheets in the kitchen trash, “You had to find an article about a movie you already like to convince me to watch it?”

Tommy stood on the other side of the leather sectional, trying to get whatever he was looking for to work.

“Fucking thing.”

“What?”

“It never recognizes the WiFi but the regular cable works just fine.”

“Let me look.” She took the remote, clicking through the menus, tongue peeking out the front of her mouth and brows drawn together the same way they did while she would draw.

“It says it’s connected.”

“It always does.”

“I have no fucking idea then. Bedroom one work?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, well, turn it on in there then I suppose. Since you’re so insistent I watch it.”

“What are you doing?” Tommy questioned, placing the remote back on the table, adjusting the photo of Charlie and Ruby back where it belonged.

Quinn blinked rapidly, staring back at him as she broke open the clear cellophane, “My job was to make the popcorn. Go make the TV do movie things.”

Leaned against the headboard it was like he wasn’t even trying to rile her up. The shorts had no structure to them whatsoever, so while his left leg was still upright and bent at the knee, his right leg was the same, however resting against the mattress, the fabric pooling—

“What the fuck. That’s a fucking Gustave Dore engraving.”

“No, it’s three fucking Gustave Dore engravings,” he seemed rather unfazed as her nimble fingers pushed the hem of the shorts up to his hip, sitting between his spread legs as she did so, “you’re the one who has the degree, Quinn. You should know.”

“Shut up.”

Whoever had done the work was brilliant. It was seamless, as if all the pieces were meant to be together.

The focal point of the three, was The Pale Horse of Death, but the surrounding spiral of angels was composed of an Illustration for Dante’s Paradosio from the Divine Comedy, and beneath it all was The Mouth of Hell.

He was trying to focus on the movie, truly, but the way she looked, so intent while gentle fingers traced line work and her unforgiving shirt letting him see the black lace bra she wore, he found he was becoming rather distracted.

He tried as discreetly as possible to clench the muscles in his right leg, to send the blood flow anywhere else.

“Well, fuck,” she chuckled, “A man after my own heart,” Quinn settled herself back against the pillows once again.”

“When I was younger,” he began, shifting down in the bed some, as if trying to find comfort, trying to find somewhere to hide, “me mom went off, disappeared. When she came back, she had gotten me a white horse as a present for me birthday. Not long after, she drowned herself in the river near where we were living at the time. I was twelve. It was all just a blur. She hated the city.”

“Why move there then?”

He smiled, a sad smile, as she situated herself on her side to listen to him. “My father was an Irish Traveller and my mother was truly a Roma woman. They were never destined for any life with an amount of regularity, it was just in their personalities, always moving, always headed somewhere new.”

“Our aunt raised us, pretty much from the time she was eighteen. My mother was just as wild as the horses were. My father, for the first time in our lives, had finally found consistent work, in Birmingham, where my aunt was living. Before that, we were always on the move, caravans and all, and we traveled the countryside. We weren’t born in hospitals, we didn’t go to school but we learned, our illnesses were cured with tinctures and oils, herbs and fresh air. It was actually fairly common, there was a resurgence in it in the 90s after the Eastern Bloc fell.”

“You weren’t born in a hospital?”

He noted, her tone wasn’t incredulous like most people were, just one of true curiosity. Her eyes were wide, purple strands of hair failing in her face.

“No. My youngest brother only ended up in the hospital as a baby when his color wasn’t right, his eyes were yellow, he had colic, and they worried he wasn’t going to make it.” He remember the urgency after their parents realized what was going on. Jaundice. There was chaos as Ada cried and one of the Lee women watched over them until his father returned.

Not that he had been much help.

“I guess I didn’t realize people still lived that way. It always just seemed like stories.”

“Most stories usually have some stake in reality.”

She hummed, turning her attention to the movie.

“People do it now too, I guess. Buy vans and renovate them and live in them.” Quinn pondered.

Tommy hummed in agreement.

There was silence for a while as Quinn watched the events of the movie unfold.

“I only like the movie because I liked the book.” Tommy admitted, a quiet whisper she would have missed if they hadn’t ended up so close together once she had gotten comfortable.

“He reads.” Quinn joked, bumping him with her shoulder as she tossed another piece of popcorn in her mouth.

“You have my joggers in there?” He questioned, as he stood to look through the clothes that were accumulating at the end of the bed.

“Hey! Get out of there!” Quinn jumped to shield her clothes from him, prying, trying to remove him as he looked for through the pile of darks, “Tommy, you do not need to see my underwear!”

“I’ve seen you without them.”

Quinn huffed, ears going red, pelting him with a rolled up pair of socks before digging in the clothes basket of dried but unfolded clothes.

“You didn’t miss them this long,” came her grumble as she tossed him the pants and the dryer buzzed, signaling her queue to haul herself from the comfort of the bed and out to change over clothes once again.

She had passed out on the other side of the bed, clothes half folded, long before the movie was over, waiting on the last load of laundry to dry.

Tommy had taken a call from John, and hadn’t thought he’d been gone that long, but when he returned, he was surprised that she was curled up on her side on the far side of the bed, glasses askew, wriggled down in the comforter enough that her shirt was bunched around her torso and he could see the floral adornments covering her back.

He stood in the doorway, trying to decide what the plan was now.

She was light enough he could carry, he knew that for a fact from before, but the couch was far from comfortable. He’d discovered that last time Charlie and Ruby had been there and stolen the bed before they had their own room.

Which meant he wasn’t subjecting himself to the likes of the couch either.

She wouldn’t be hurting anything sleeping there for the night and since Finn and Arthur both couldn’t manage to answer him, he assumed their flight wasn’t coming in until morning.

Carefully, Tommy placed the clear plastic frames and her phone on the bedside table before turning off the tv and retreating to the closet for an extra blanket.

“What…the fuck.”

Tommy barely heard her whisper as he muted the alarm. Fumbling for her phone, Quinn blinked through watery eyes to try and focus on the time.

4:45.

4:45?

No, it couldn’t be 4:45. They already had that that day.

It must be 9:45.

She tried to take in her surroundings. She was very clearly still in Tommy’s bed, on top of the blanket but covered with a patchwork quilt she had never seen before.

Gross, she felt overencumbered, realizing she had slept in her clothes from the day before.

With a small groan she felt for her glasses, slipping them on before confirming it was indeed 4:45.

“Your alarm goes off at 4:45 in the morning?”

“Yes.”

“Ugh,” she sighed, rolling to where the freshly vacated, and warm, spot in the bed was, “I only see 4:45 once a day. You’re a monster.”

Her eyes were shut already as Tommy exited and closed the door to the walk in closet, “You don’t even know the half of it.”

She snorted, and he was thankful that she thought it was a joke.

“You probably listen to the news in the morning, too? Don’t you?” She called through the door, stretching back out in the mess of the blankets as the water hissed to life on the other side of the door.

“Yeah. Turn it on the cable, it should be on the news.”

“Ugh, no.” She tossed the glasses on the other table, burrowing further into the pillow, trying to ignore the way her stomach flipped at the smell of his cologne tainting the sheets, “Wake me up when there’s coffee involved though.”

Tommy wasn’t at all surprised to see her fast asleep on his pillow when exited the bathroom at 5:15.

On the other hand, he was very surpsied when he turned the light on in the kitchen to hear a groan that belonged to no other than Arthur.

Tommy looked over the back of the couch to see Finn curled on the shortest part and Arthur stretched out on the longest part of the sectional.

“Arthur,” Tommy whispered, shaking him by the shoulder, hoping to rouse him quickly and quietly, but when one hand wrapped around Tommy’s wrist and the other went for his throat, he determined that wouldn’t be the case.

“Oi!” Tommy pulled, yanking his arm away to stand back up straight and out of arms reach, “Hey, it’s me. It’s fucking me.”

Tommy could see when Arthur’s eyes began to focus, to actually see who he was looking at, and not someone who had snuck up on him through the smell of burning oil and sand to attack him.

“Sorry, brother.” Arthur whispered, pulling himself upright and putting his head in his hands before pushing his hair back out of his face.

Tommy shook his head, disregarding the apology, “When did you get here?”

“Late. Early.” Arthur grumbled, “Finn wanted to wake you, but, I told him let ya be.”

“Well,” Tommy clapped him on the shoulder, “might as well rest. Sleep it off.”

“C‘Mon, Tommy!” Finn stared at her across the kitchen island, trying to think just what Polly would say when she saw this girl. Purple hair and facial piercings are not at all what he would expect of a woman his brother would end up with. Tattoos on her throat and every surface of her skin that he’s seen so far.

Finn was used to women like Grace and Lizzie who were pretty enough that they could be in paintings.

Not women that wore paintings.

Quinn grabbed with the chopsticks, desperately, although Tommy was taller, trying to reclaim the last piece of her sushi roll.

Not the most ideal breakfast, but she had forgotten about the appointment she had scheduled before work, and it was better eaten than left to go to waste.

“You said you were stuffed, eh? Couldn’t eat another bite, and now you want it?”

Finn sniggered as he slid off the stool and he decided that maybe he can see part of the reason why his brother likes her. She moves nimbly as she jumps, the right parts of her body catching his attention.

“Oi!” Quinn misses the in between, but Tommy can tell what his brother is thinking, and Quinn realized as she hoped to catch what Tommy said, that it wasn’t English, and whatever language it was, it wasn’t anything she could take a guess at.

“That’s not fair,” her eyes narrow as she looks between the two of them, taking the opportunity to pull Tommy’s arm closer to her, guiding the final bite of sushi to her mouth, not swallowing the bite fully before speaking, but using her hand to shield her mouth, “cause I don’t know what the fuck you just said.”

Finn rolled his eyes with a shake of his head, before departing the kitchen and a door slamming off in the distance.

“So I might, perhaps, need a favor,” Quinn began, testing the waters with her words as she stared at the black coffee swirling in the mug as she tried to keep herself from being nervous.

Her phone had been going off nonstop the last few days, her family group chat, which between her parents, sisters, and their spouses had 13 people messaging all day every day.

“Okay,” Tommy quirked an eyebrow, already smartly dressed in a suit and tie for a day full of meetings. She has on a mauve rubbed crop top and high waisted leggings, but not high enough that the fabric meets in the middle, and instead it leaves enough of her skin on display for his thoughts to wander before she spoke again.

“My sister is getting married,” she takes a sip of coffee before continuing the thought, “and I need someone to go with me.”

“Say all of the words.” He prodded, not looking up, because he knew as soon as he did he would give up and agree.

Instead, Tommy continued skimming emails on the laptop, trying to find the ones with the spreadsheets that he needed to print.

“What do you mean?” She had to resist rolling her eyes.

“I need to have you say the whole thought out loud.”

“Tommy,” she leaned against the kitchen island as he closed the lid of the computer, giving her his now undivided attention, “will you go to my sisters wedding with me and pretend that we’re dating so I can make them jealous?”

“Well, I have to admit, I’ve never been spitefully invited to a wedding before.”

“First time for everything.” She quipped, drumming her fingers against the countertop.

“Lucky for you, there’s a car in Detroit I want to look at, so yes, I’ll go.”

“A car?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“A 1967 GT500.”

Quinn rolled her eyes, a huff of air coming out her nose as she resisted laughing. “Because it’s a Shelby?”

His smile let her know the answer.

“Well,” she righted herself, stretching before pulling her bag on her shoulder, “we’ll be about 3 hours from Detroit, but that’s probably the closest you’ll get any time soon, so you might as well get a hold of them.”

“Okay. When?”

“Two weeks,” she checked the time, “shit. I’ve got to get going, I have an appointment this morning. I’ll message you more of the details.”

“Do you want me to drop you off?”

“No, that’s okay, it’s not that far of a walk.”

The door clicked closed and Tommy was thankful for the silence before Arthur and Finn returned to the kitchen.

“When are you goin’ to tell her you’re still married, Tommy?” Finn inquired from the doorway, Arthur trailing not far behind him.

He rubbed his temple, “It’s not that simple, eh? It’s nothing like that. If I bring it up, then this,” he gestured to the two coffee cups still on the counter, “all becomes something.”

“Pol would have you by the balls for leading her on like that.” Arthur countered.

“Men and women can be friends, brother. It’s not—“

“Yeah, well, we’re not blind, Tom, she’s sleepin’ in your bed, you was just acting like everything’s normal while—“

“While what, Arthur? Please, enlighten me.” Tommy offered the floor to his brother, leading with the hand holding the now lit cigarette as Finn, wide eyed and unmoving, watched the tension grow between the two of them.

“While I have to wonder if my daughter is mine?” Tommy wouldn’t lie, he could feel himself getting more and more pissed off the longer he kept talking, “While I have to wait for paperwork to go through, because 8 years ago Lizzie started fucking Angel Changretta and apparently never stopped!”

He was yelling, he could feel all of it, the resentment and anger, shame, and every other emotion that he tried desperately to press down bubbling to the surface. Rightfully so, as Arthur just couldn’t resist trying to prove a point.

Arthur hung his head, giving a nod as Finn shifted uncomfortably on the stool, the only noise being the wood groaning and mimicking his discomfort.

“You two, should go find something to do at the office today, eh? Change some fucking lightbulbs. File some fucking papers. Good spot for you.”

He slammed the door to the balcony behind him, blood boiling as he replaced the cigarette and pulled the smoke between his lips.

“Fuck,” Quinn rubbed her eyes as her phone vibrated across the desk, the word Mom staring at her dauntingly, “I don’t have time for this shit today.”

Hannah chuckled, printing off the emails and reference photos that Quinn needed for the new appointments as she answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hi, sweetie, how are you?”

“I’m good, mom. Listen,” she rested the phone between her shoulder and ear, before taking the papers and heading into her portion of the studio and closing the door, “I’m in the middle of the day right now,” her phone vibrated and pinged a text message as she continued talking, “and I’m in between appointments that I’m trying to setup for, so, what’s up?”

“Well, Emily has been busy with the wedding planning, with it getting so close, she hasn’t had much time to call, but she said you never sent her an RSVP. Are you not coming home?”

Quinn pinched the bridge of her nose, sinking down on the uncovered massage table, the envelope clear as day in her minds eye still hanging on the fridge, “Yeah, mom I’m still coming. I put it in the mail a week or two ago, but the mail around here sucks. We usually get the neighbors stuff and, who knows what happened to it. I put down two.”

“Oh, good! Well I’m going over there later, I’ll let her know you’re coming. Can you just give us some warning if Hannah is coming with you, after last time.”

“Opa getting a little testy because I brought a girl with me, who I am not dating, is not my problem. He read between lines that weren’t even there. Besides, she won’t be able to come this time, Dante’s wife just had that baby and I can’t quite ask her to come in and cover for her.”

“Well who’s coming with you then, Quinn?”

Shit. She swallowed thickly, thankful that her mom hadn’t decided to FaceTime her, because as much as she didn’t mind lying, her mom could usually tell when she was, “I’ve been seeing someone. For a few weeks. I just haven’t talked to y’all in a bit and it didn’t seem like something to bring up just yet. You know, the luck I have, I didn’t want to jinx anything.”

“Oh. Well, we’ll looking forward to meeting them then.”

“Him.” Quinn corrected, jaw set as she tried to think of some way to get the conversation over quick. She could feel the anxiety and sweat prickling at the back of her neck.

“What?”

“I’m bringing a guy, shouldn’t be that hard to fathom.”

“Well, sweetie, after Gerard, you always said—“

Quinn could feel her heart pounding in her chest, stomach turning, at even the mention of his name, “After Gerard I said a lot of things, mom. Listen, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

“Okay, I love you, Quinn.”

“I love you, mom. Bye.”

“Holy fuck,” Hannah chirped as she closed the door to the apartment behind her, leaving her purse and shoes at the door, “you’re actually home? In waking hours of the night?”

Quinn rolled her eyes, looking up from the iPad and setting the pencil down as a repeat television show played in the background.

“Yeah,” she rubbed her eyes, stretching as she migrated her belongings to the coffee table.

“Oh, and she sounds dejected.” Hannah narrated as she crossed out of Quinn’s line of vision, to the kitchen, retrieving a bottle of water from the fridge and tucking a chunk of of black hair behind her ear, before flouncing down on the steps, “Listen, I don’t want to take it there, but what’s going on? You fucking slept there last night.”

“Not dejected, just,” she sighed as Hannah sat down opposite her at the other end of the couch, “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just being fucking dense.”

“Y’all fuckin’?”

“No! That’s, no, it’s not even like that. It’s so strange. I literally think we’re just friends. Which is just throwing me for a loop.”

“So why aren’t you over there trying to get laid then?”

“His brothers are visiting.”

“Oh fuck.”

“Yeah, so, I didn’t feel like I needed to get it the way. It’s probably good. I need to actually take some time and be at home and figure out,” she shook her head, “what the fuck my brain is doing, I guess.”

Hannah sat silently for a moment, Quinn waiting for some kind of wisdom from her friend.

“You like him though, don’t you?”

Quinn felt Hannah’s eyes boring into her as she thought.

“I…” she sighed, flinging her head back against the couch cushion, “it would be stupid to say I don’t right, like, I definitely have a type, but,” she shook her head, “I don’t know. I feel like I’m just missing something. Plus he has kids, and, I dunno. I literally just need,” she shrugged, “time to think. I think.”

“Well,” Hannah laughed, “good luck with that.”

#tw: cheating #tw: adultery #tw: infidelity #modern tommy shelby #modern!tommy #modern peaky blinders #modern tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby x oc #peaky blinders fanfic #fanfic #misadventures #quinn meyer

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