King Of My Heart (Thomas Shelby x OC)

Chapter 3

Theo chapter is low key a mess, but I hope you enjoy anyway.

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Unfortunately, Nigel's new-found connection to one of the Shelby brothers didn't keep him from needing to work. His mind was still filled with images of Thomas Shelby when he arrived at work the next day, though luckily he hid his distraction well.

He knew it was likely that Tommy and his brothers would show up later; they stumbled in during the evenings most days and went into their private room. He never had asked why Tommy came in alone the other day; he'd invited Nigel to the races.

He was cleaning the bar top from a spilled pint of beer when the door opened, and he glanced over to see that Tommy was walking in, two of his brothers behind him. Theo had never had cause to interact with either Arthur or John Shelby, but he had a feeling that was going to change today, as the three of them made a beeline for the same corner table that Tommy had taken up last time.

His staring didn't go unnoticed, and Thomas locked eyes with him.

Nigel tried not to, but on instinct he offered the man a smile before returning to his work. The rag in his hand was soaked through and useless now, so he slid it over a bucket and squeezed out the excess alcohol before continuing to wipe down the polished bar top.


The sound of footsteps alerted him to Tommy's presence, and he looked up as the man spoke, his voice rather gruff as it usually would be.

"Bottle of whiskey, bring it to the table," he said bluntly, looking down to the spilled beer that Nigel was still wiping up. "What happened here?" He asked the question an afterthought that Nigel hadn't expected.

The spilled beer was mostly gone now, and with a last swipe of the rag, Nigel picked up the last of it. With a splashing sound, he dropped the beer-soaked rag into the bucket at his feet. "Some drunk asshole threw a whole pint of beer and started a fight," he said, crossing his arms on top of the bar to lean against, resting for just a moment.

"Harry broke it up and made him leave before anyone could get real hurt, but it was a close call," he said, bumping his foot against the bucket before he let out a huff and leaned down to pick it up. "I'll have your whiskey in a minute; you can return to the table," he said, shooing Tommy away with a little flick of his hand, but Tommy didn't move, instead choosing to lean up against the bar, his bright eyes settling onto Nigel.

"And you, were you hurt?" He asked, his voice quiet and even.
Nigel went still and glanced over at Tommy with raised eyebrows, staring at him for a moment before responding, "No, I hid behind the bar and let Harry deal with it; I don't like this job enough to get punched over it," he replied, though he wasn't sure he liked any job enough to get in a fight. Working at the garrison was better than a lot of other places, but it was still just a job.

"You know I never said thank you for taking me to the races," he said, offering Tommy a small smile as he took down a bottle of whiskey and set it down on the bartop in front of Tommy. "It's on the house, as part of my thank you," he added, crossing his arms on top of the bar.

Tommy looked at the bottle and then up at Nigel. "All the drinks I get are on the house," he said, but picked up the bottle by the neck and held it down by his side, though his eyes never left Nigel.


"Well, that's true, but this one specifically is thanks for the races; maybe I'll think of a better thanks later on," he replied, though he had a feeling he couldn't give Tommy anything of real value. There was also the little fact that he didn't know what Tommy would want.


A voice called out across the bar, beckoning Tommy back to the table, and for half a second Nigel thought he was going to ignore them, but then his hand slid off of the bartop and he turned around, but not without a parting word. "I'll take you again if you'd like," he said, but didn't stick around to hear the answer.

Nigel stared after him, his wide eyes unblinking and his hands resting on the edge of the bar until a man blocked his view, demanding a drink.

Shaking himself out of his stupor, Nigel got back to work. It would be another long day, and he was set to close up shop again.

The rest of the day was uneventful, besides one man vomiting on the floor. Nigel had unfortunately been the one who cleaned it up, and he made sure to give Harry a dirty look the entire time.
 
Tommy's brothers had up and left at some point, and when closing time rolled around, Nigel found himself once again alone in the bar with Thomas Shelby.

His cane clicked against the floor as he walked around. He opted not to use it during business hours, but these weren't business hours; Tommy was just sticking around again.

"You're making a habit of this," he told Tommy, his voice devoid of any nervousness that it had the last time Tommy had stayed after closing.

Pushing chairs beneath tables and wiping up sticky residue from the day drunken men and their clumsiness was not pleasant work, but usually he had the luxury of it being solitary; now he had Tommy's eyes on him, and the man wasn't even responding to him.

With a sigh, he walked over to Tommy's table and pushed the chairs under it too, even going as far as to pick up the man's glass so he could swipe a rag beneath it. "I'm going to tell Harry to give me a raise if you're going to do this all the time," he complained, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck, which ached from bending over.

"Do it; you probably deserve the money," Tommy finally said, lighting up a cigarette and offering one to Nigel, and when he didn't get a response, he just shrugged and dropped the pack on the damp table, blowing smoke into the air.

Nigel glared down at him for a moment before he pulled out one of the chairs and sat down, his shoulders slumped and his head leaned back. "Don't you have liquor at home you can drink?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he crossed his ankles over each other.

"Course I do, but I also have family, and they'll never give me enough peace so I can finish my drinks," Tommy replied, his voice a bit hoarse with smoke. He washed it away with the last bit of whiskey in his glass, and when Nigel opened his eyes, he found that Fommy was staring at him, studying him.

Nigel was quick to look away, finding it hard to look at Tommy for very long. "Just be out by the time I'm done cleaning; you got maybe 10 minutes," he muttered, standing up and picking up the rag he'd abandoned on the table.

The sound of the door opening made him start a little, and his head jerked in surprise. He thought he'd locked it, but maybe that's all he did—thought about it.

A couple men stumbled in, clearly drunk, so god knows why they were walking into another bar, but it was no matter; they wouldn't be getting any drinks. "We're closed," Nigel said, his expression turning slightly hesitant as he realized that one of the men was the one who'd made trouble earlier and started a fight that ended with broken bottles.