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

Chapter Twelve

A/N: TW: harsh discipline. Abusive.

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"I thought I wasn't allowed in here," she said, cheekily, but Tommy found little humor in her quick wit. It was an ill attempt in easing the tension between them. Her small grin matched his neutral, nonchalant expression as he pushed a mop into her chest. They were to wash the new glasses, floor, dust the bottles, wash the windows, and clean the tables. Finn and her both sighed, sharing a glance. "Yes, Mr. Shelby," she said, dragging the mop and bucket to the sink. Tommy, hands behind his back, nodded, turning on his heels to leave.

He paused at the turn, looking behind him. "Oh, and the loo. The toilet needs to be cleaned as well. I'll be next door, alright?" When he left, both her and Finn said in unison: you're cleaning the toilet! Both participating in a stalemate until Finn conceded.

"I'll clean the bathroom, but," he said, his frown turning into a grin. "You have to do everything else...except the glasses." Finn looked behind him, sighing at the new crates. "There's like a billion of them." Not really a billion, per se, but each crate held fifty, and there were five crates. Hesitantly, a scowl on her face, she agreed as she poured in the soap. "Oh, you should also sweep before you mop and do the windows."

"I know how to clean, Shelby," she grumbled, shoving the mop in the bucket and swiping the rag from the counter to do the windows and tables.

"If you say so," he said, taking the mop and bathroom cleaner with him to the toilet.

It took them the greater portion of the afternoon to put a dent into the Garrison. It was nearing five before they reached the glasses. "You wash, I dry," Finn said. "Since I cleaned the bathroom-"

"And how does that even begin to make a lick of sense?" she asked. "No, there are two sides of the sink. I'll wash, you rinse and dry-"

"No," he argued. "You rinse as you wash-"

"Nooo," she said, extremely slowly as if he was deaf. "No, Finn, I'm the lady...I know how to clean more than you." Stubbornly, she threw the rag on the ground and crossed her arms, her brows knitting. "It's easier if I wash, you rinse and dry-"

"Amelia! You're being stupid," he said, pushing her aside and taking a glass, giving her a look and mockingly waving it in her face. "Glass...wash...rinse!" With one swift movement, he washed the glass then rinsed it, putting it in the rack to dry. Okay, maybe his method was better. "See? Or should I show you again!"

"Oh please, do go on," she said, grinning. "If fact." Her fingers skimmed over the crates. "Show me 249 more times-"

"Ha-ha, so clever, pick up the rag!" he told her, and she did. Using some ol' fashioned elbow grease, Amelia went to town, washing and scrubbing the new glasses. Every so often, they'd glance at one another, and each time one of them caught the other, they'd look away. She was bloody fucking stubborn, Finn was thinking as his method was working just fine. It served her right after being so stupid. Who the fuck sneaks out in Tommy Shelby's home? Well, his aunt's home. "You're lucky, y'know? If it was me, Tommy would have killed me. What were you doing with that posh bloke, anyway?"