Chapter Text
When Alfie had been made aware of what had happened with the Shelby family, two things stood out to him: first, their deal in place and how it would be affected. Second, Thomas Shelby had no one left. Initially, he was going to leave it alone and wait for Thomas to call him. When nothing happened, he called the Gypsy in hopes of getting some sort of clarity on the situation. The phone went unanswered, even by the old maid. He gave it a few hours and then he called again. By the end of the night, he had called the home four times, the Garrison twice, and Ada Shelby’s home twice.
He called Thomas’ home a fifth time, the next morning, to which the phone was lifted from its resting spot, but nothing was said. The call was disconnected shortly after.
“Ollie,” Alfie shouted as he hung up the phone and stepped out of his office.
“Yeah?” Ollie followed behind him and tilted his head.
“Go get the car started. I got a trip to make.”
“Should I get Hiram –”
“No, I’m going alone. Just get the fucking car started.”
Ollie quickly obliged and ducked back as Alfie approached his exit. He untied the apron around his waist and tossed it aside. He picked up his long black coat and pulled it on. After he was comfortable, he placed his white scarf atop it and followed it with the placement of his homburg. He picked up his cane before he departed the distillery, where he spotted Ollie stepping out of the car just as he rounded the street corner.
“Where are you going, Alfie?”
“I got business, yeah? You take care of everything here until I get back.”
“When are you coming back?”
“When I fucking come back,” Alfie impatiently hissed and shoved by Ollie. The younger Jew nodded and returned to the bakery-portion of the distillery as Alfie got himself settled in the vehicle.
. . .
It had taken Alfie nearly four hours to complete the drive from his London shop to the Warwickshire mansion. As he pulled up the driveway, the time was nearing eleven forty-three in the morning. Gray clouds surrounded the mansion and a particularly dark and ominous one perched itself just behind the center of the roof. The only car visible was parked askew near the front of the house, where all the curtains were drawn.
Alfie parked himself next to Thomas’ car and used his cane to steady himself as he stepped on to the gravel. He knocked on the front door and waited. He didn’t hear any immediate response from the other side, no signs of life or movement. For the duration of his wait, he contemplated just how easy it would be for him to break into the house, as opposed to wait for some answer. However, as he knocked a second time, louder than the first, he decided he would give Thomas exactly one minute before he broke in through some other fashion.
As he was counting down the last twenty seconds, he glanced to the nearest window and supposed that would be his quickest and quietest way in, unless he were to go through some door in the back. He tapped his cane on the step and considered going to the back of the house as he chewed the inside of his cheek. He could hope the back door was unlocked and unguarded for the easiest access.
“Three … two … one. Alright, Tommy, the hard way it is,” Alfie mumbled to himself, turning his back to the door. Just as he took a step away, he heard the lock on the other side of the door turn. He glanced over his shoulder to spot the door being pulled open and the skinny, ghost-like frame of Thomas Shelby wearing nothing but his loose pants appeared. Alfie took a moment to face the man again and took in the pathetic sight before him.
Although the Gypsy was already pale, he seemed a somewhat sickly-pale. There were bags under his bloodshot eyes and dried blood crusted his nostrils. His lips were chapped and there seemed to be nothing encouraging him to shave off the subtle stubble that was showing. In his right hand, he clutched a bottle of Irish whisky by the neck. The only good thing about his stature was that it appeared he must have been eating something, at least once in a while.
“… Oh, Tommy, no,” Alfie cooed, cocking his head to the side as his eyes traveled their way back up to meet his. “You can do better than that, Tommy.”
“… Mister Solomons,” Thomas muttered in question, squinting at Alfie. He reached a hand forward and touched the other’s beard, as if testing to see if he was real. Alfie simply stared back at him, unmoving.
“Aye, Mister Shelby.”
Thomas remained quiet as he dropped his hand lethargically to his side and turned his back to his guest. He retreated back into the home and Alfie took the open door as an invitation to follow. He closed the door as he stepped inside and stayed after him, keeping his distance as he did so. Passing through the home on their way to Thomas' office, Alfie observed the dying flowers that adorned several tables and shelves. The home was dimly lit and shards of a few broken glass bottles littered the floor with empty cigarette boxes.
The office wasn't in much better shape. The curtains were drawn, making the room especially dark until Thomas turned on the desk lamp, and the chairs were on their sides, spread out across the room. One vase was shattered and left in pieces in one far corner while Thomas' desk looked to be a disaster of its own. Alfie bent down to stand up one of the chairs while Thomas languidly sat himself behind his desk. He rummaged through it in search of something and avoided all visual contact with Alfie.
He cleared his throat with a hefty cough and placed the whisky bottle down on the top of the surface. “I don't recall sending - uh,” he coughed, “- sending for you.” He was preparing to apologize for an erroneous telegram, letter, or phone call he may have sent until his companion spoke.
“Right, because you didn't,” Alfie nodded, pushing the chair closer to the desk and taking a seat.
This brought Thomas some pause. He retrieved the crushed package of cigarettes he had been searching for and pulled out the last stick inside. “... why are you in my home,” he asked, keeping his eyes on the cigarette as he lit it with a lighter, after several clumsy clicks of the flint wheel.
Alfie rolled his shoulders and watched the cigarette, as well. “What's it - a courtesy visit, eh?”
“... so, you're here to kill me.”
Alfie stared at him, incredulously, although Thomas didn't return eye contact.
“You heard what happened and now you're taking advantage of the situation," Thomas assumed, blowing the smoke downwards before he lifted his head and kept his eyes closed. “If you're here for that, then at least do me the courtesy,” he paused and cleared his throat. “... the courtesy of letting me finish the smoke.”
Alfie waited a few moments before he stood up and swiftly took off his coat and scarf. He laid them on the back of the chair and proceeded to unbutton his vest. Subsequently, he removed his hat and tossed it aside before he loomed over Thomas' desk and propped himself up with both his hands.
“Thomas.”
“I'm not done yet,” he replied and allowed another puff of smoke to travel toward the aggressor. “Just another minute.”
“Fucking look at me, Tommy,” Alfie growled, ignoring the smoke. Tommy waited a few seconds before his tired, blue stare met his companion's.
“I ain't here to fucking kill you, mate. ’Fact, I came here to make sure no one had done what you're accusing me of wanting to do to you, right.”
Thomas displayed confusion at the words. Unwilling to try and unravel them, he squinted at Alfie and scowled. “What.”
With a moment of silence that could kill between them, the two remained locked in their stares.
“I said,” Alfie finally spoke sharply. “I came to make sure no one's fucking done you in.”
“No, you wouldn't do that.”
“Yeah? Funny you say that, considering I'm standing in front of you. Though, maybe I should be more concerned with you trying to fucking kill yourself.”
“I don't need your help or a lecture.”
“Figure you might need something.”
“What do you want? Money? I don't have anything to give you.”
“Did I fucking ask for money, mate.”
“Nothing's free, Alfie. Even if it’s you showing up at my house unannounced.”
Frustrated, Alfie pushed himself off of the desk and began to roll up his white sleeves as he paced around the chair he had been sitting in. “Oi, Tommy, you feel guilty, do you,” he casually remarked, taking his time and keeping his eyes focused on his left sleeve. “Because of you, right, your family's fucked for who knows how long and, let's be honest, yeah, they probably fucking hate you, don't they. You know what happens in prison.”
Thomas glared at Alfie as he spoke.
“Yeah, right, I get it, it's your family, innit,” he huffed. “And they mean fucking everything to you, don't they. But you remember where we are, lad. You remember what we do. Prison sentences come and go, and, fuck, if you ain't done them some good –”
“Alfie. Shut the fuck up.“
“And fuck knows how much time they deserve - never mind how much time we deserve. At least, according the laws of this great country of ours.”
“Alfie,” Thomas protested louder, tightly holding the unfinished cigarette between his fingers.
“Honestly mate, they ought to be thanking you for all you managed to pull out of your fucking ass.”
The sound of wood sliding on the floor indicated to Alfie he'd succeeded. Thomas stood up and crushed his cigarette into the ash tray before he rounded the desk to approach Alfie on the opposing side of the office. “Say one more thing about my fucking family, Alfie! One more fucking thing.”
Alfie straightened up, finished rolling his sleeves over his elbows and narrowed his eyes on Thomas. “They're paying their fucking –”
He was cut off by Thomas' fist colliding with his left cheek. He had seen it coming, but decided to give Thomas the first hit. He staggered only a few paces backwards and aptly rebutted against the Blinder. Rings still on his fingers, he threw a punch aimed for Thomas' bare stomach and pulled his hand back as soon as he'd made contact.
“You want to fucking hit me, Tommy, then fucking hit me,” he taunted.
Thomas grunted and held his stomach for a moment before he gathered his composure and punched Alfie again, trying to make contact with the same spot. Alfie batted his hand away without any effort. Thomas let out a growl before he cocked his arm back and attempted to hit the right side of his face. Alfie backed himself away just enough, but hadn't anticipated Thomas lunging at him with a right hook prepared and aimed at his chin.
As the fist made contact, Alfie staggered backwards again and ran his hand over his jaw. He spit on the floor and licked his split lip. With a smirk on his face, he nodded to Thomas. “That's more like it, lad,” he commented, which only resulted in a more fiery glare in return. The Shelby tensed his face before he made another lunge for Alfie, forcing him back against the wall they had been headed towards. His hands quickly found their way to the baker's throat and he squeezed as tightly as he could. The other raised his own hands up and brought them down on Thomas' elbows, immediately releasing the hold.
The Blinder, however, then grabbed on to Alfie's collar and pulled him downwards. He brought his knee up to meet Alfie's stomach, causing him to grunt at the connection. In retaliation, Alfie used both hands to shove Thomas to the side and stood himself up. As Thomas regained his composure, dizzy from inebriation, Alfie rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. Laden with gold rings, he raised his fist and delivered a strong punch to his opponent’s face. In the midst of the recuperation period, Alfie dug his fingers into Thomas' bare shoulder and yanked him forward before he delivered a short barrage of punches to his stomach.
Pity then took over in Alfie and he forcefully pushed Thomas, releasing him from his hold and sending the other man to the floor. Thomas panted as he held his stomach and glared at Alfie from his fetal position. Alfie shook his head and turned his back to Thomas, thinking it might give him some privacy to have whatever emotions he was going to have. He rested his hands on his hips and dropped his head to stare at the floor as he muttered in his thick, slurred accent.
“If you're gonna hit someone, you should make sure you're gonna be able to fight back, even if you're fucked off your ass –”
Alfie was interrupted by Thomas forcefully kicking the back of his leg, causing him to fall to his knees. The Blinder quickly followed it up with pulling Alfie to the ground and forcing him on to his back. Caught up by not only Thomas' sudden movements, but the soreness the collision with the floor had caused in his back, Alfie immediately succumbed to Thomas' attempts to control the grapple. He ignored Alfie's pained huffing and grunting, finding himself situated on Alfie's chest. In a fleeting moment of coherency, he pinned one of the baker's shoulders and clenched his other hand into a tight fist. He shouted and made purchase twice on Alfie's face before the baker managed to catch the assaultive fist. Thomas lifted his hand from the pinned shoulder, but before he could strike, Alfie snatched his wrist. In the struggle, the baker released the fist and held his opponent by both of his wrists. Thomas struggled to free himself from Alfie's hold before he stopped to pant and catch his breath.
Alfie was thankful for the brief break in violence in order to regain some composure. In this moment, it was the first time Alfie noticed the blood slowly trailing out of Thomas' nose and the wound he'd given him on the left side of his mouth. He figured their faces likely mirrored each other in wounds, considering the damage given and the force behind each hit.
In a hazy and hasty decision, Thomas leaned forward, almost as if he was going to head butt Alfie, and crashed their mouths together. He bit down on Alfie's lower lip, eliciting a pained grunt, and half-expected the man to throw him to the side. When he wasn't thrown, he decided to go about his not-so-romantic kiss in a different way; anything to make it more uncomfortable for Alfie. As he released Alfie's lip, his own was quickly assaulted by his opponent, to his surprise. He hissed and cussed into Alfie's mouth before they finally parted.
“Let me go,” Thomas breathed out, still tugging on his wrists caught in Alfie's tight hold. Alfie only grit his teeth, reeling slightly from the pain in his right leg. His grip on Thomas' wrists tightened for a moment before they loosened, though not enough for him to pull free. “I'll do it again,” he attempted to threaten.
“Will you,” was challenged in response.
Unwilling to back down from the taunt, Thomas haphazardly crashed their mouths together again and felt their teeth grind against each other. His attempt to bite on to his lip again went unsuccessful as Alfie captured his mouth first. Thomas pressed his own weight into the kiss while Alfie returned the pressure by pulling himself upward with Thomas' wrists. They bit each other and grunts from either side came as the kiss gradually became less violent and dominance was the goal.
Neither being willing to withdraw from the challenge, they held their kiss of bitter rivalry, even as Alfie released Thomas' wrists and rested his hands on the other's sides. It lasted only a few moments before a subtle turn of his body had Alfie digging his fingers into Tommy's skin and biting his own tongue. The two split again, this time due to the surge of pain that rushed down Alfie's leg, causing the rest of him to tense up as he cursed aloud.
Thomas gasped at the sudden pressure on his sides, but managed to pull himself out of Alfie's grasp and took notice of his expression. After the initial pain passed, Alfie relaxed and panted slightly, pushing himself up on his arms and shaking his head. “Fucking - fuck. Help me up, mate,” he growled, not being one to accept assistance very often. Thomas took his hand and helped to pull Alfie up, who instantly found stability by leaning on Thomas' desk again. He shook away Thomas' pale hand and wrinkled his nose as the pain began to recede.
“My coat, Tommy,” Alfie gestured to the coat that somehow remained on the chair throughout their battle
Curiously, Thomas retrieved the coat and held it out to Alfie. “You're leaving?”
"Fuck off," Alfie hissed, making himself comfortable against the desk and snatching the coat. He began to dig through the pockets until he found what he was looking for. He retrieved two, unopened boxes of Sweet Afton cigarettes and held them out to Thomas. “For you,” was all he muttered.
With a brow raised, Thomas took the boxes and shook them, expecting them to be empty or some joke gift of the like. Alfie tossed his coat back toward the chair and dropped his hand to his trouser pockets. After a moment, he retrieved a box of matches and placed them on the desk, immediately next to where he was leaning. Thomas opened a box and retrieved a cigarette, then put the gifts across the desk and swiped a match from his companion’s stash.
“I didn’t come here to fight you, right,” Alfie casually remarked, leaning backwards against the desk and keeping his eyes focused on the wall across from him.
“I know,” Thomas muttered as he expelled some of the smoke upwards.
“Honestly, I expected to find you either shot to death or hung from your neck, eh?”
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
“Yeah. Likewise, I guess,” he huffed and straightened himself up. “Where’s your boy at?”
“I told Mary to take him to Ada’s before I did something stupid.”
Alfie nodded in acknowledgement, but wasn’t about to tell Thomas how to parent his child. If he trusted the maid well enough, that was his choice. “Good on you, mate.”
“Mm.”
“What're you going to do?”
“... I have an idea or two,” Thomas commented as he expelled some smoke ahead of him. He crossed his arms over his chest and held the cigarette between his lips. “It depends how things go from here.”
“Yeah? Figured you might.”
“If you're worried about the –”
“I ain't worried about nothing,” Alfie interjected, quirking his brow and raising his shoulders. “You're alive, I ain't got nothing to be worried about.”
Thomas paused at the comment and took a drag of the cigarette before he looked to the floor, where the two of them had just spent the better half of a few minutes tangled in some petty mouth-based war.
“What happened here was,” Thomas cleared his throat and gestured to the floor.
“I ain't saying I'm ready for another go.” Alfie shifted against the desk and scoffed quietly, trying to hide all sense of vulnerability due to the soreness from his sciatica. “But if you're ready, I'll do it. I don't fucking care.”
Thomas cast a glance to Alfie, meeting his stare. “Another go?”
He raised his shoulders in a short shrug and nodded his head.
“If that's a challenge, Alfie ...”
“It is what it fucking is, innit.”
The Blinder's stare was averted briefly, focusing on the ash tray on his desk. He turned and took one last drag of the stick before he put it out in the tray with the remnants of many before it. “I know neither of us are apt to decline a challenge, even one so petty as this,” he acknowledged, shifting his stare back to Alfie. Unsure of what that was supposed to insinuate, Alfie was prepared to bark something back to defend himself or counter the perceived insult with his own.
In a swift movement, Thomas stood in front of him and grabbed a tight hold of his collar. With a firm tug, he pulled Alfie's face toward his own and for the third time of their own volition, he closed his eyes and mashed his mouth to his companion's. Despite the surprised grunt that followed from Alfie, the baker was quick to return the force and aggression behind Thomas' kiss. He may have still been in a bit of pain, but vying for dominance in the kiss was paramount. Alfie quickly slipped one of his hands to the back of Thomas' head and took over control until he finally forced the Shelby to separate from him.
“But,” Thomas protested in a quick breath, raising a hand to Alfie's mouth and preventing further contact. “Considering both our states - perhaps some clean up and recovery ought to be priority before we move this to the auxiliary bedroom, aye?”
“... few drinks might move the recovery process along a bit faster, mate.”
“I think I can oblige that.”
“Good lad,” Alfie mumbled behind the hand before it was removed. In response, he removed his hand from Thomas’ head and stared up at the ceiling as he stretched his back.
“The bed ought to be kinder to your back, too,” Thomas quipped as he pushed himself off of the desk and smirked while he departed the office, leaving Alfie to follow at his own leisure.