King Of My Heart (Thomas Shelby x OC)

Chapter 4

Merry Christmas! This chapter is lowkey a mess, but I hope y'all enjoy anyway. I wanted to get something up before tomorrow, but the holidays have kept me busy so it's probably not my best.

_______

Nigel was quiet as he made his way to work the next morning. He was still pondering over the conversation he'd had the night before. The things Tommy had said were enough to shake him, and he wasn't easily shaken up about anything. He'd learned not to be a long time ago.

Usually his walk to work went by quickly, but this morning his leg was aching, and he was moving slower than normal, which was the only reason he took notice of the man trailing behind him. At first he ignored him, but anytime he turned, the man did as well, and soon that wasn't something he could ignore.

Despite the pain in his leg, he picked up the pace a little and turned down the street that led to the Garrison. Still the man trailed him, and Nigel had no doubt that he was being followed.

His hand tightened on the head of his cane, his mind running through the possibilities. Best case scenario, it was a petty criminal, a mugger coming to steal his wallet, but he had a sickening feeling that wasn't the truth.

A mugger wouldn't wait for him to enter a crowded street; he'd have pounced in an alley where Nigel was helpless; instead, he was just trailing after him, watching.

With a burst of relief, he reached the garrison doors and pushed his way inside, unsurprised to find that it was getting busy. A later shift like today meant walking in during a busy time.


He glanced over his shoulder as the door closed and caught one last glimpse of the man following him. He was slim and tall, standing at such a distance that Nigel couldn't make out his features, but his gaze was clearly turned to Nigel, and it sent a shiver down his spine.

The door slipped shut, and Nigel jolted back to reality, going through the motions to prepare for work. An apron secured around his waist, a bottle soon in hand to pour a man's drink.

Instinctively he glanced over to where Tommy had been sitting the night before and was surprised to find himself disappointed that the man was absent.

Despite everything, Tommy had made him feel safe last night, and right now he was craving that safety again.

It felt foolish really, but he couldn't help it. Tommy had been the first person ever to look at him with all the knowledge of what he was and not cast any judgment; not only that, but he'd looked at Nigel and seen him as an object of desire, which was certainly new, at least from a man it was.

He wouldn't deny he'd had women show interest in him, but no matter how hard he tried, he'd never been able to reciprocate their affection.

And truly he did try, but he'd known since he was young that there was something wrong with him and the way he felt; it had been confirmed time and time again through the years, and he'd stopped acknowledging that part of him existed, but Tommy had managed to break through just a little.

Now it felt like that part of him was shriveling up again, hiding away with a familiar sensation of fear.

He shook off all those thoughts and tried to focus on his work.

Sometime later, Tommy finally came into the garrison, followed by Arthur and John, but unlike the last few days, they didn't take a table out in the open; they went straight to the back room, and Tommy, he didn't look over at Nigel, which shouldn't have offended him, but it did a little bit.

Unfortunately, he didn't have a long shift today, and by the time he was hanging up his apron, Tommy was still in the back room. It sounded as if they were discussing something serious, but Nigel was smart enough not to listen in.

Nigel didn't particularly want to walk home right now, not after his journey into work from that morning. If it was later, then perhaps he could have snared Tommy into walking him again, and that would have made everything better. Or at least made him feel safer.

He lingered over his last task, but after a while, Harry started looking at him with obvious exasperation, and Nigel didn't feel like explaining his plight. "I'll be leaving now, Harry," he said, pulling on his coat and struggling with one of the buttons that was threatening to pop off if he pulled it too hard.

Harry only grunted in response, and Nigel didn't spare him another glance as he walked out the door, stopping on the steps so he could look side to side and check his surroundings.

The stranger from that morning was nowhere to be seen, and he let out a sigh of relief but didn't allow himself to relax quite yet.

He wondered if perhaps all of this had just been his paranoia, that no one was actually following him. It wasn't likely, but he could hope.

Raising a hand, he raked his fingers roughly through his hair, his cane clicking rhythmically against the cobblestones as he walked, glancing over his shoulder cautiously. It had been a long while since he had been this on edge, and he hadn't missed the fear like this.

With a sharp breath, he turned his gaze to the ground, watching his feet as he walked across the uneven cobblestone, his cane catching in a few of the cracks before he pulled it free with practiced ease.



The sound of footfalls behind him made his pace quicken, and he turned down a dark street so quickly that he failed to realize that someone was in front of him and crashed headfirst into another person.

Jerking back, he started to apologize but stopped when he realized who he'd walked into. It was Tommy, standing in front of him, large as life, a cigarette between his lips and one eyebrow raised up sharply.

"You should watch where you're going," he said, blowing a cloud of smoke to the side before he returned his attention to Nigel.

"I left you back at the garrison; how the hell did you get there?" Nigel muttered, his worry fading into annoyance as he started to walk again. If it were any other day, he would have told Tommy to fuck off when the man started walking with him, but right now, this night, he was grateful for the safety of his presence.

Thomas smirked just slightly, his hand sliding into his pocket as he dropped his cigarette butt carelessly to the ground. "I know my way around Birmingham better than you ever will," he said, his accent thicker on certain words, lilting and quiet.


Nigel didn't bother to respond, just glanced over his shoulder again, and tried his best to play it off as if he was only looking at Tommy, though clearly his little facade didn't work, as Tommy looked back as well and raised his eyebrows. "You're skittish," he said, a statement of fact and not a question, because he didn't need confirmation for something he could plainly see with his own eyes.

Rolling his eyes Nigel walked a bit faster and didn't respond; he was glad Tommy was here to ward off any danger with his mere presence, but he really wasn't in the mood to talk.


"You should have stayed around the garrison; I'd have stayed late again and shown you a good time," Tommy mused, the words slipping out with so much nonchalance that Nigel almost brushed them off as innocent before he caught the implication.


With a sharp look, Nigel reached out and snatched Thomas by the wrist, dragging him forward and turning abruptly down his street, glad to see his house at the end of the street, "Just shut up," Nigel muttered, his voice growing sharp as he quickened his pace.

Tommy's presence could only provide so much comfort, but it was better than nothing. "Just come inside, alright," he said, letting go of Thomas' wrist so he could pull out his keys and unlock his front door.

It took him a moment to find the right key, but when he did, he slid it into the lock with ease and walked inside, finding his shabby house to be cold and dark, as it always was.

Tommy walked in behind him, and as soon as the door closed, Nigel spun on his heel to glare at him, "You can't say things like that, not in public at least; what if someone heard?" He said, starting to move around his small kitchen to place a kettle on to boil.


His anger was slightly misguided, and he knew it. He was overly on edge from his fright today, and Tommy was an easy target. "You might be Mr. Thomas Shelby, who won't get in trouble for something as simple as being a degenerate, but I don't have your family name to hide behind, so if I get killed in some alley for being a poof, I'll have you to thank!" He snapped, raising his hand to point a trembling finger at Tommy's face.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd lost his temper with anyone, and it felt sort of good to let out his emotions.

Still he felt a bit bad when his anger ebbed away and he found himself with a finger in Thomas' face and an utterly indifferent Tommy Shelby staring back at him.


Refusing to apologize, he just huffed and turned back to the kitchen, staring at the kettle in the hopes that it would whistle and break the silence he'd created.

"Tell me to stop it all if you'd like; I won't look at you again if you'd prefer," Thomas suddenly said, speaking with such a casual tone that Nigel was a bit shocked.

When he looked over his shoulder, it was to see that Tommy had pulled out a cigarette and lit it in a matter of seconds, blowing out a cloud of smoke into Nigel's cluttered living space.

With a harsh breath, Nigel turned toward him and reached up to pluck the cigarette from between Tommy's lips, stubbing it out on a plate that was left on the table. "You don't smoke in my home," he muttered, not bothering to check Tommy's reaction as he turned to the kettle, which had begun to whistle.

He poured the water carefully into a pot, allowing the tea to start steeping as he pressed his hands on the edge of the counter and let his head hang. His messy hair slipped around his face, and he chewed on his bottom lip, his mind racing. "No, don't," he said, his voice faltering just a little.

There was tension in his jaw as his teeth pressed painfully together. He kept his gaze lowered for several more moments before he turned back towards Tommy, his expression unreadable, "You don't have to stop looking at me or speaking of me either, but do you have to be so blatant about it in public?" He asked, a frown creasing between his brows and his hands twisting together in front of him.


"I won't lie and say I hate it, the things you say to me; I enjoy them sometimes, but I'm not brave enough to let people know that." He said, staring at Thomas carefully, trying to work out his next words before he'd even finished with the few he'd already said. "And I meant what I said about your name; you're a Shelby. People don't take that lightly, and you may not want to admit it, but it gives you more freedom than some of us have," he explained, checking the tea as he spoke.

The water was darkened to a rich brown, and Nigel poured out two cups, though he wasn't sure Tommy would care to drink his. He set it near him on the table regardless.


"Not everyone is goddamn Peaky Blinder," he muttered, staring down at the warm cup he held cupped in his hands.

"You could be."

Those simple words were enough to make Nigel start, and he looked at Tommy in shock before he scoffed, "I'm not joining your fucking gang, Thomas," he said, sipping at the tea as he hooked his foot beneath a chair and pulled it out.

"Thomas?" Came the quiet response, and when Nigel looked up, it was to see an amused smile on his guest's face.

"It's your name, isn't it?" Nigel shot back, his voice sharp with irritation.

Tommy shrugged his shoulders and stood up, suddenly moving toward Nigel with an air of importance about him, as if he owned the place and wasn't standing in the kitchen of Nigel's own house.


He came to a stop a foot away, leaving Nigel to lean back against the counter with feigned nonchalance. His heart was beating out of his chest, and his arms were crossed over as he raised an imperious eyebrow.

"It is, but I prefer when you call me Tommy."

"We don't always get what we want; I'm sure you know that."

Tommy looked down at him, his expression unwavering. His hands moved forward and settled on either side of Nigel's body, pressed against the counter, their bodies so close that Nigel could feel the warmth radiating from him.

"Oh, I know," Tommy said, moving one hand to brush his fingers across Nigel's hip, his touch so featherlight that it felt like nothing.

Nigel raised an eyebrow, leaning back a bit further as he turned his head down to glance at Thomas' hand. "What happened to being able to wait?" He asked, his voice soft and scrutinizing, but not fearful in the slightest.

He was well aware that Tommy was a dangerous man, but if their past few meetings had taught him anything, it was that he didn't have anything to fear from him.

Whatever violence he might enact would not touch Nigel.

"I'll wait if you say the word, but is that what you want?" He prodded, leaning down a little, his face inches from Nigel's, his warm breath ghosting across his lips, but not coming any closer, not daring to touch him.

Nigel considered, his dark lashes brushing against his cheeks as he blinked, looking at Thomas carefully. He was tempting; he wouldn't deny that, but he'd promised himself that he would never give in to those desires.

He wanted to keep that promise.

The sinful thoughts he has should stay just that: thoughts.

But he knew they wouldn't; he wasn't strong enough to keep them at bay if Thomas kept tempting him.

"I do not want to be damned to hell," he said, the words very clearly not the 'no' he'd intended them to be.

Tommy raised an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across his face as his hand drifted onto Nigel's waist, toying with his shirt gently. "One kiss will damn you to hell? I must be better than I thought," he said, smiling as if it was some great accomplishment that he was tearing down Nigel's resolve.

With more effort than it should have taken him Nigel pressed his hand to Tommy's chest and pushed him back, surprised by how easily the man went along with the shove.

"You know it doesn't matter why I'm saying no; just back off," he muttered, pushing himself away from the counter as he grabbed his teacup again and took a seat at the kitchen table.

Tommy followed after him, but this time he had the decency to keep some distance between them and sat at the opposite end of the small table, barely paying any mind to his own steaming mug of tea.

They sat in silence for a moment, the quiet heavy around them, broken only by the gentle clinking of Nigel's glass being set down on the table.


"You're not in any danger from me, you know. I might be persistent, but I have no intention of forcing you," he said, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest.

Nigel just stared at him, sipping at his drink as he tried to sort through his thoughts. "Why are you so persistent? You're attractive; I'm sure you can find someone else to satisfy you," he said, though the thought of that made his jaw clench slightly.

Truth be told, he likes the attention. It was something he never imagined he would get, a man pursuing him, and sure it was only for sex, but Nigel hadn't let himself even imagine what it might be like to lay down with a man, to kiss one the way he'd always wanted.

"I could, but I'm interested in you," Thomas said, the simple logic delivered with an equally simple shrug of his shoulder. As if it was all entirely.

Nigel set aside his drink and slid his hands down Ivey's knees, his palms growing sweaty and uncomfortable. "Well, you know I don't want to sleep with you, but I want—" he broke off, the words dying on his lips as he realized how ridiculous he would sound.

Tommy, however, looked intrigued, and for the first time since sitting down, he leaned closer to Nigel, "What do you want? You might as well say it; it's not as if you've ever gotten the things you really wanted, have you?" He prompted, the truth of his words enough to sting.

"I want to kiss you."

The words slipped out again, unintended but true and aching.

Nigel didn't think he'd ever wanted something as badly as he wanted Thomas to kiss him.

He thought perhaps it would set him free, either that or damn him for eternity, but he thought it was worth the gamble.


Thomas smiled again. His chair creaked as he stood up and walked slowly around the table to stand in front of Nigel, his sharp blue eyes wandering up and down his slouched form.

"Come on then, love, I'll make it good for you," he said, raising an eyebrow and waiting, waiting for Nigel to stand up and kiss him.

It was what he wanted. He'd said so himself, but now the opportunity was in front of him, and Nigel could only seem to move in slow motion.

He pushed himself out of his seat and took a small step forward, mere inches away from Thomas.

He swallowed thickly, his throat bobbing up and down as his eyes drifted lazily down Tommy's face to settle on his lips.

The thought of leaning in was like a drug, a high he would chase all his life long, but it was nothing compared to the euphoria that came when Thomas grabbed him by the waist.

Tommy was a strong man, and his fingers gripped at Nigel's body like he might slip away. He paused for just a moment, allowing Nigel the time to shove him away before he closed the distance.

Their lips pressed together, and Nigel's world came to a screeching halt. He wouldn't be surprised to find out the whole planet stopped spinning.


His body was stiff, his hands were limp at his sides, but Thomas was pressed up against him, slowly walking him backward until he felt the sharp edge of the counter pressing into his back.


Only then could he move again.

Nigel made a choked sound in the back of his throat and slid his arm around Thomas' neck, pulling him closer as his free hand slid uselessly across the counter.


He was gasping into the kiss, his eyes fluttering closed, his body taut with sudden heat. Thomas' teeth caught on his lip, and Nigel gasped sharply, his hand shooting up from the counter to take Tommy by the waist and tug him closer.

Reality has narrowed down to a few points of existence.


Tommy's hand on his hip, the pinch of Thomas' teeth, and the sudden tug at his hair as Tommy's hand slid through the dark strands.


Everything was hot; the room was burning, and Nigel thought he could live through it as long as Thomas didn't pull away.

And then he did pull away.


Thomas broke apart and left Nigel gasping, leaning after him with a sharp, desperate little sound he couldn't believe came from him.

He caught himself, just barely, but at least Tommy seemed amused by his reaction, even as he pressed his hand to Nigel's waist and pushed him back against the counter again. "I said I'd make it good," he told him before removing his hands from Nigel and stepping away, like it had all been nothing.


Nigel stared at him, his eyes blown wide and his lips slightly swollen from where Thomas had bitten them. "I didn't expect that," he said, his voice hoarse and uncertain.


A silence stretches out between them as Tommy turned away from him and walked toward the door, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders squared with confidence.

"Where are you going?" Nigel blurted out, taking a small step forward as if to grab Tommy by the tail of his coat.

"Home for now," Tommy told him, pulling his cigarettes out and placing them between his lips as he opened the front door of Nigel's house, his lighter appearing in his hand like some sort of magic trick. "You wanted a kiss, and I delivered; now I just need to wait for you to want more," he said, taking a step outside but not leaving yet, just turning on the porch to stare through the doorway at Nigel.

"I'll make that good for you too, love," he told him, before lighting his cigarette and closing the door, leaving Nigel standing by his counter, his mind reeling.

He'd asked Tommy to kiss him, and God, he didn't think he'd ever felt better.