Bloodsport ; tommy shelby

𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒆 - o' little town

It took Iris a moment to remember where she was when she woke up the next morning. When her eyes flitted open and she saw Tommy's face inches away from hers, she remembered it was Christmas Day, and she'd spent the night at the Shelbys'.

"Merry Christmas," he murmured, his eyes still closed.

"Merry Christmas," Iris whispered in response. She rolled onto her back, putting a hand to her forehead and furrowing her brows as she winced at her headache.

The door burst open. It was Polly.

"Oh for fuck's sake," she tutted, covering her eyes with a hand. "Put some fucking clothes on, for Christ's sakes, it's Christmas bloody morning."

Tommy buried his head in the pillow. "Give us a minute, Pol." He groaned.

"Right, well fucking hurry up, Finn's begging to open his presents," Polly ordered, shutting the door behind her.

The pair of them lay in silence for a few moments, before Tommy sat up, leaning down to kiss Iris' lips. They slightly rolled over as they kissed so that her legs were either side of his hips.

♞

"Well, well, well," Arthur said when Iris and Tommy finally came down to the living room where Finn was unwrapping his presents. "Merry fucking Christmas."

Ada and Polly exchanged a smile.

"Morning Arthur," Tommy said, choosing to ignore his brother's suggestive tone. He sat down at the rocking chair beside the tree.

"Can we open them now?" Finn asked as Iris sat down across the room.

"Yes, well done for waiting," Polly said. "Some of us opened our presents early," she muttered, earning a chortle from Ada.

"Go on then, Finn Boy," John grinned, handing him a roughly wrapped gift. "This is from me and Arthur."

♞

Iris didn't stay long after the present opening, wanting to get home and sleep off the hangover. She passed through the streets at the early hours, trudging through  coarse snow on the cobbled streets until she reached her flat.

It was cold and a little unwelcoming in her flat, the floor littered with yesterday's scraps of wrapping paper and the ashtray was filled with red lipstick stained cigarette butts.

She cleared the floor a little, before peeling off her slightly damp clothes and her snowy coat. She pulled on her pyjamas and stared into the small round mirror that hung above the stove.

"Merry Christmas," she said to herself. Tired, but happy. Finally it wasn't another year alone.

She curled up in bed with a cup of tea. Her flat was one room apart from the bathroom, which consisted of a small toilet, sink and shower. There was a window by the headboard of her bed, where she looked out onto the snowy street.

It was mainly empty as families celebrated their Christmasses indoors, away from the icy frost. The pacements were thick with snow but the roads were muddy and slushy from the passing of cars and horses. She could see one man walking down the road from the back, in a long black coat. All she could see was the back of his shaved head and his upturned collar and it sent a paralysing shiver down Iris' spine.

It couldn't be... she gulped, nestling further down into bed. He turned for a moment to head into a shop, and Iris caught a glimpse of his face. She let out a long sigh of relief. It was fine. Finally everything was fine, and she was making paranoia out of nothing.

Iris settled back into bed, putting her teacup on the side and sighing. The tight feeling in her chest didn't go away. It didn't seem to matter that it wasn't him, or that her door was locked and she was probably fine, there was a deep-rooted feeling of dread inside Iris.

And rightly so...