The Balls in Our Courts [F.SxO.CxT.S]

Chapter Six

AN: Warning, Tommy gets very angry at the end of the chapter and it may be slightly triggering to you(slap). The rest of the chapter is fine.

 

The stands went silent, mouths dropped and cigarettes ignored. Everyone watched the girl, invisible steam circling her head. The precision of the ball hitting the mere cigar almost made her temper redeemable. How she managed to not hit a single person was impressive. The councilman's men waited for a clue to address the situation, but the middle aged, white haired man simply waved off the men, his eyes following her as she stormed out of the stadium, her guardian following at her tail. Thomas Shelby himself was left speechless. A man never short for words, found himself unable to comprehend what had happened. She had fire in her, which pissed him off, but that day? He could not put a single blame on her. They underestimated the young girl's skills and she left them speechless. She did exactly what she needed to do...be memorable. Whether a storm would follow was the question. Thomas Shelby stood, evening out his wrinkled jacket and flicking his smoke to the ground, and followed the girl. She'd been walking at an impressive speed, mumbling under her breath.

Amelia couldn't bear to look at the man next to her, thinking he'd give her a lecture or scold. If the belt wasn't warranted for an office invasion, surely he'd give it to her that night. It was best to give a scorned face and look out the window, the London buildings moving past. He'd helped her from the car at the train station, whispering gently, "come, Amelia." Much to her surprise, he took her hand in his, thumb massaging at her palm. "You want to put your cardigan on? It's cold. Here." They paused together at the entrance of the station, sticking his smoke between his lips to hold it. Kindly, the cardigan was placed on her bare arms. When she'd assume his affection would end, his calloused decorated hands took her cheeks, thumbs swiping the tears under her eyes. "Come, we will take the earlier train home."

On the train, he browsed the articles in the news while Amelia observed the passing scenery. Tears would come and go as she switched between her emotions. Tommy didn't press her, only interrupting her grieving sessions to hand her small chocolates and water. At first, she'd been stubborn, ignoring the sweet, delicious confectionary, but Tommy grinned when her eyes kept glancing at them. "Mmm," he hummed, fingers gravitating to one, fingers playing at the wrapper. Like any child, she quickly grabbed them, protective of her sweets. "Thought so." Amelia did not want to speak, shoving them in her pocket and curling up, looking back out the window. "Hmm, you're not going to speak to me now? That's fine, love. You can rest. When we are home, I'll have Polly make you some lunch."

Since they were not due to arrive back in Birmingham until later, Arthur was not waiting with the car. They walked. Tommy kept her close, hand finding its place back wrapped around hers. He'd hadn't walked that much since he was young, but the air was nice for it minus the urban dust. When entering the Shelby-Gray home, everyone anticipated a great story, but smiles were soon turned to looks of concern. "Go on to bed, Amelia." Softly, he patted her back before taking off his sports jacket, leaving it hanging neatly on the rack. Without looking at anyone, he said, "Colm hadn't exaggerated her temper. Her future husband better hope she doesn't swing frying pans as she hits balls."