Summary: You have worked at the Garrison for months now. What's suddenly got Tommy so jealous?
Word count: 1690
Warnings: Swearing. Jealousy. Fic gets a bit heated right at the end, but it's nothing explicit.
A/N: Please feel free to send me a message or comment, I would love to know what you think.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Tommy hated it. Really hated it. Clenched jaw, hands coiled into fists, hated it. Every time he sat in that damn cosy at the Garrison, he felt every nerve ending flare, watching through the opening as you moved about serving ale and whisky to the men of Small Heath. His steely eyes silently scrutinising every second bloody man vying for your attention. Not that he could blame them. You were effortlessly warm and inviting; impossible to ignore.
They hired you for that very reason; you were good for business. But Tommy had no idea how easily and how quickly you would carve out a spot in his heart, nor how powerless he would be to stop it. And for a while, it was easy enough to ignore, to deny that little portion of his heart even existed. After all, it was obvious to him, that all the smiles and laughter you exchanged with the patrons was never anything more than harmless flirtation. But as the months past, that little portion began beating faster and louder every time someone spoke your name, quietly and unassumingly sneaking its way through every surface of his heart, embedding itself like the beautiful deep roots of an oak tree.
And so, here he sat once again, in the cosy of the Garrison, half listening to the banter of his brothers, while his main focus was you. That hazardous smile that disarmed man after man, your infectious laugh that brought warmth to the stoniest of faces and the kind effortless way you diffused their advances, before they even had the chance to feel rejected. But fuck, he didn't realise just how firmly those roots were embedded in his heart until today.
You were busy with your back turned to the counter when an unfamiliar and rather ordinary looking man walked in, stopping behind a group of men waiting to buy their next round. He stood there, clearly impatient for you to turn around and see him, his expression full of expectation, but you were completely oblivious to his presence as you continued serving the men before you. Tommy shifted in his seat when the unexceptional man smiled with anticipation, there was fondness there; on his lips, it was unmistakable. This man knew you... and knew you well. Clearing his throat, he shifted in his seat again, his unsmoked cigarette lying forgotten as it burnt slowly and steadily towards his fingertips, and his glare trained to the face that waited so patiently for you to see him.
Tommy hated that it took every ounce of strength to keep his backside in his seat, when what he really wanted was to march up behind you, take you by the hand and lead you to the office, before you could lay eyes on this stranger. So sure he was, that he would not like your reaction. And in the next moment, he wished he had. When your eyes caught sight of him, you nearly dropped a bottle of whiskey on the floor, stopping short of jumping over the counter to reach him. Regaining some form of composure, your impatient feet took you around to the front of the bar, throwing yourself into his waiting arms, but it was the expression on your face that broke Tommy. Pure joy. It lit up your features in a way he had never seen before, the sight sparking instant and unwarranted hatred for a nameless man he was yet to meet. He was jealous. Plain and simple. There was no other word for it.
