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Gun Metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 18

What goes up must always come back down again.

Masterlist

She wasn't doing a

Singlething I could

see, except

Standing there,

Leaning on the

Balcony railing,

Holding the

Universe together.

Though the night was long and loud, it was also too short for comfort and boisterous. Thomas and Dorothy both walked away from each other with bowed heads, regretting instantly that they ever parted.

They both knew that it wouldn't be the end of their companionship, but leaving each other made it painful, if just for a few hours.

Darcy found the Shelby man charming and respectful. Dean saw him a man with no ill intent, only guilty of rumours.

Thomas walked away and found that the house felt more homely than the one he occupied.

Thomas hated small spaces, but for the first time, that small space was comforting and warm. For the briefest second as he sat in that kitchen, he let his mind wonder, he thought of his mother, and he saw her smile. He allowed himself that thought and treasured it for the rest of the night.

Only making it all the more sweet as he felt his mothers smile on his conscience.

The night went off without a hitch. The dinner continued as Dorothy asked about Deans day and he joked of his unemployment.

Dorothy only grimaced what she thought to be a smile at the joke. Her father had been unemployed due to having to look after his wife. Originally, Dorothy was going to stop working but after examining the income, they found that she was the main breadwinner of the family.

The night continued on as Thomas recounted stories from his childhood, he hoped that the more he spoke of old times the more he could figure out his Bonny.

He was aching to know her name, but out of respect he didn't look too deeply. The parents never once gave her name, only sweet pet names reserved for daughters.

As Thomas got up and decided that he'd best head back, Bonny was engrossed in conversation with her mother. Dean clapped him on the back and walked him to the door, chatting quietly as they walked and stood there for a few minutes, waiting for Bonny to come through the door to bid him goodbye.

——

Dorothy awoke tiredly, the events of the night before were tiring as she'd stayed up til the early hours of the morning, thinking of Bubs and how he just fell into the comfort of her home.

She left the house with thoughts of her Bubs as she made her way to the bakery, prepared to start the day.

——

It was safe to say that the day did not go as well as it could have. Though forever the undying optimist, even Dorothy struggled to see the light of her day.

Ms. P had come down with a terrible case of flu- or worse.

The bakery had become infested with rats, meaning all the produce was ruined and they had to close it for a few days as they gathered the money to get the problem removed.

Next, she finds out that the boys who had stolen from her the other week had been running around again after, in her opinion, very stern talking to.

And lastly to end the day she learns that her father had found work.

Now usually that probably would have been good. She was ecstatic at first. But when she found out that it was to be a part of Thomas' up and coming business; it was safe to say she almost stuck her fingers in her eyes.

Her father had desperately tried to explain that he was tending to the money banks, no razor gang stuff. He pleaded that she saw the desperate state they were in and that they SURELY needed the money.

But Dorothy was overcome with a sense of bubbling anger. She stomped out of her house in a fit of blind rage. She couldn't quite work out who she was angry at, but first she needed a walk.

Maybe she would have given in to the idea, had she not come across the one Shelby man she didn't want to see.

Though she was angry, she had no desire to lash out or hurt anyone, so she tried her best to keep marching. Though she forgot that the two had a habit of late night meetings so there was no way of him not seeing her.

"Bonny?" She heard a small smile in his voice. Had this been any other situation, she probably would have squealed and pulled him into a hug prodding for a story or the inner workings of his mind.

Dorothy kept on walking, at least she planned to. She planned to until her forearm was grabbed and she was rugged to a standstill.

"Where're you off to at this hour, eh?" Thomas chuckled, no quite noticing her foul mood, "'m I gonna find you in the middle of the streets again?"

"What do you want?" Dorothy snapped at him. Very out of character.

Thomas blinked slowly, only now recognising the look of anger on her face. "What's this all about then, huh?" He tugged her a bit closer.

He was trying his best to be close to her, he didn't know why he wanted it, but he just felt safe when she was in his arms or her hand on his. Something close. Something meaningful.

"Oh I don't know!" She three her hands in the air, forcing Thomas to let go of her, "maybe it was the fact that I came home today, from a VERY hard day at work, only to find out my father has signed his death warrant away to your administration. At this rate, dad's gonna be dead before Mama."

Dorothy only blinked at her words, so blinded by her rage that seeing red turned into dark stormy colours that clouded her vision.

She was worried for her father and his safety, Thomas got that, "Look, he's going to be protected, as a matter of fact, your whole family will be protected. He won't be going around slashing people to pieces. He's very good with money so I've seen to it that he watches the books. Your father will not come to any harm while I'm looking."

He steadied his hands on her shoulders, trying to level with her.

She looked up at him through her eyelashes that had tear drop residue still sitting in between them.

"Can you promise that, Bubs? Can you promise that my father will not come under any harm while he is under the protection of Thomas Shelby?" She made sure that it wasn't the Peaky Blinders who were going to watch out for him, but Thomas himself.

"I promise. I promise that you will still have your father for as long as I can provide for you. As much as I want to Bons, I can't shield you and your family from everything, if I knew I could get a cure for your mother from Comptons chemist, I'd be down there before sunrise. If I could ever stop you from shedding another tear in your life, I would bring the sun closer to dry your eyes."

Thomas wasn't used to emotional speeches. They made him feel vulnerable. But Dorothy made him feel vulnerable, she made him relax and enjoy life. She made him able to stand himself.

After Thomas' words she only then caught up with her own. She brought a hand up to her mouth as she shed more tears, "Oh my God, Bubs. I'm so sorry!" She grabbed onto his elbows as she sobbed in front of him, "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!"

Thomas pulled her close, taking the chance to be near her, "I'm so sorry Thomas, I didn't mean it, I'm so sorry!" It was safe to say she was ugly crying now and was getting tears and all kinds of things on Thomas' shirt, but he didn't mind.

He pulled back for a second to look her in the eye after she calmed down a bit, reduced to only small sniffles now, "my Bonny-."

"Oh so I'm your Bonny now?"

"Shut up- My Bonny, you have too many smiles left in you to be sad."

Dorothy cracked a smile for the first time that evening, the final tears escaping her eyes as she still clung on to the lapels of his jacket and dug her head into his chest again.

"Oh my, I'm so sorry about your shirt. Tell you what, I've still got the shirt you leant me so I'll exchange it for the one your wearing now and I'll clean it." She didn't give him much of a choice as she grabbed his hand, still wiping her face with her other and lead him away to her house.

She called out behind her shoulder, "Don't worry! I cleaned it! I promise!"

——

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Gun Metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 13

What a plot twist she was.

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I wonder how biology can explain the physical pain you feel in your chest when all you want to do is be with someone.

“Ah, shit.” Thomas sighed. He was digging around in the drawers, only finding his slightly older penny collar shirts and three piece suits. After a bit more digging, he found some braces and loose trousers.

Thomas let out an undignified snort at the realisation and of what she had to wear.

He turned to her, holding the braces, loose trousers and dress shirt; a shit-eating grin on his face.

“No!” Dorothy could only gasp, “I can’t wear those, Bubs!”

“I’m sorry, Bonny, it’s all I’ve got for you.” His grin only getting wider.

Dorothy huffed and snatched the clothes, trudging to the bathroom.

She scrunched her nose up at the smell that still lingered in the room.

She mumbled curses she’d heard her father say in Romani whenever she got in trouble, the words slightly escalating when she laid them down in front of her. She stopped short when she heard Bubs laughing down the corridor when she snapped a bit louder.

“Don’t laugh at me! This is going to look stupid enough, as is. I don’t need you laughing your arse off at my expense!” She huffed indignantly.

She only heard him sober up a bit after she had attempted to tighten the braces around her shoulders a bit more. The shirt was gargantuas on her and she felt like a pansy trying to tuck it all the way in, only giving up halfway. The trousers pooled around her ankles so she had to role them up, hoping Bubs wouldn’t mind. Then the braces to help keep the trousers up, didn’t even shrink enough to sit comfortably on her shoulders, so she had to hold them up as she was walking around, feeling like a mayor of an old western city in one of those cowboy movies who snapped their braces back on their chest. She felt utterly stupid.

It didn’t get any better when she walked back into the bedroom and Thomas didn’t react, his eyes only widening. For what? She did not know.

——

When Bonny stepped out of the the bathroom, Thomas felt his heart stop. He took in her small frame. The sight was almost comical as she desperately tried to keep the trousers up and the sleeves falling over her hands making them look like small paws.

Even though she was drowning in the fabric, he thought she looked... cute? He couldn’t describe what it was. It was the equivalent to what Thomas imagined was the feeling of meeting an energetic puppy or the excitement of a child when they get handed some liquorice.

Thomas smiled, a small smile. She was cute.

It was another thing to add to the list of things she was and he wasn’t.

The silence ebbed on. Thomas could only stare. She could only stare back.

Thomas’ mouth twitched a bit. He broke out into boyish sniggers as she stared back unimpressed.

She put her hands on her hips, “oh yeah, laugh it up, I’m sure it’s s- Oh!” Her hands flashed like a light to the trousers that were so close to falling down again, now that she’d let go of the braces.

The action only made Thomas laugh harder.

“Are you done?” She raised an eyebrow as he wiped his eyes and sobered up a but. Nodding his head as he recovered.

“Here, let me help you.” He made his way towards her, Dorothy only pushed his hands away: “I’ve already tried that! They don’t tighten anymore!”

Thomas didn’t say anything as he grabbed the strap of the braces and wove the strap in on itself to make a knot on her shoulder, then doing the same with the other. Dorothy’s mouth formed an ‘O’ shape and tapped her head.

“There we go. Much better.” He patted her shoulders and stepped back, seemingly proud with his work. “Now, back to bed. I have some questions and you need to answer them.”

Dorothy’s stomach dropped. She knew this was coming. She’d have to talk about it eventually.

Sighing, she sat on the bed, Thomas sat in the chair next to the bed. Dorothy half missed him sitting closer, but she didn’t say anything.

——

“So what’s all this then? Why am I finding you in the middle of the streets, face first in the cobbles? Eh” Thomas leaned back expectantly, making sure he had full control of the situation.

Dorothy knew that keeping secrets from friends was the best way of losing a friend. But she was equally terrified that by telling Bubs the truth, that he’d bugger off and not want anything to do with her.

The guilt would have been immense, though.

“I have low blood pressure... something like that, I think.” Dorothy stared down at the quilted blanket, doing the tapping thing with her hands again.

“Ok. And why couldn’t you get food on the table since the last time I saw you?” He leaned forward, his eyebrows furrowed a bit.

Dorothy cringed at the bluntness of his questions, “couldn’t afford it.”

“But you work at the bakery, does that not source an income?” His gaze pierced into the side of her head, she refused to look at him.

“Mama needed it...” he voice even quieter now.

“Is she sick?”

Dorothy nodded her head, she pulled her lips into a tight line and squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to think about her home life.

Thomas knew this was a sensitive subject for her - hell, this whole conversation was -, he understood the feeling of watching family members fall apart and whither away right before your eyes.

“Where ‘bouts do you live?”

The pause lasted longer than Thomas liked, he feared the worse, “she has a home, right?”

“Hampton Lane.” Her answer was honestly worse than being homeless, in Thomas’ opinion.

Hampton Lane has a wide expanse of whore houses, anyone who lived on that street were whores themselves or drunks.

Thomas’ chest tightened. Before he could ask the dreaded question, she answered it quickly, “I’m not a whore though! I promise! Never done anything of the sort!” She shook her hands in front of his face, desperately pleading that he didn’t think her to be like that.

“So your poor blood pressure, what does that do?” She thanked him for changing the subject.

“Makes me light headed easily n’ other stuff like tha’” her voice croaked as the inner turmoil seeped out of her.

“What other stuff?”

“Tinnitus, n’ that.”

Thomas had heard of tinnitus. Men in the war quite often got diagnosed with it after hearing the shells go off so many times, it became white noise.

Thomas connected the dots, “s’that why you’re always humming, and put records on?”

She smiled a bit at the fact he’d noticed. It was weird, but it showed that he cared.

Thomas patted his knees and stood up, checking his pocket watch, noticing how much time had passed.

“You look exhausted out of your wits, I’ll leave you to sleep and then tomorrow, we can see how you look.” Dorothy smiled, as he left and closed the door behind him.

As she heard him walking down the stairs, she thought of the way the warmth left the room as he trotted further away from her.

She settled down under the covers and closed her eyes, welcoming sleep as it wrapped itself around her eyes.

——

ANOTHER ONE DONE!!!

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Gun Metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 17

“A dinner of bread and butter makes the world go round.”

Masterlist

Watch carefully,

The magic that occurs,

When you give a person,

Just enough comfort,

To be themselves

Upon entering the quaint house, Thomas observed the room, he saw the cobwebs clouding the corners, he saw the peeling wallpaper where there was even wallpaper. The bricks, had no paint over them and had holes in them.

The furniture was slim to none and every room apart from the bedrooms and bathrooms, it would seem, all became one room.

Thomas noticed how he never left the cold temperature from outside, there was no fire lit and there seemed to be a draft gliding over his feet and past his ankles.

Before Thomas could fully absorb the contents of the house, he heard a squeal from his side as Dorothy, who he didn't realise was still holding his hand, let go and ran towards the armchair across the room, "Mama!" She charged for a creaky old armchair that didn't look to comfortable.

Occupying the chair was a pale woman whose face seemed long and drawn in on itself. She had bruises under her eyes that looked like they'd been there for years. She looked fragile like crumbling wood or an empty old house.

"You're awake! You're out of bed!" Dorothy tackled the lady gently in a hug.

Thomas notes that the woman had curly hair just like Bonny's, but Bonny had the same dirty blonde hair colour as her father. Thomas assumed this was Bonny's sick mother.

Bonny had seemingly forgot about her fathers or Thomas' presence. Thomas only stared at the girl as she chatted enthusiastically at her tired mother, who appeared to be, though sick, very happy at her daughters presence.

Thomas was clapped on the back, "Right then, they'll be there for hours, them. Want a drink?" Bonny's father was apparently not fazed by the gangster in his house. In fact, he was rather welcoming.

"Wouldn't want to intrude." Thomas bowed his head a bit to be respectful. He didn't usually do this, but with the importance of Bonny in his life, he wanted to make a good impression.

"Ah, none of that. Ya can stay for one drink! Today's a day of celebration, Darcy's getting better! Ain't been a day like this in months!" Bonny's father stalked off somewhere and Thomas went back to his thoughts.

"Months? It's been like this for months?" Thomas could only think of what his Bonny had been dealing with all this time.

He found himself angry. Not at her, but at the world. How could the universe treat a girl like her so poorly? How could the universe not put food on the plate of the wise; or not the race to the swift; or the wealth to the hard-workers?

"And who's this young lad in my home, Poppet?" Bonny's mum peered over her shoulder.

Dorothy gasped and clapped her hands. She rushed over to Thomas and pulled him by the forearm towards her mother.

"Bubs-err-Thomas, this is my mother, Mama, this is Thomas." Dorothy once again winced at her words.

"Call me Darcy." She nodded her head in Thomas' direction, not shaking his hand. He assumed it was for fear of spreading something rather than his name, so he didn't take it personally.

"Call me Tommy." Thomas nodded back.

"So how did you two meet? You've never brought any friend home? Not even your old mate Matilda." Darcy inquired.

"Ah, well you see mum..."

Dorothy went on to tell the story of how they had met, leaving out the gun to her face, of course.

Once her father had come back through with a bottle of rum and cracked it open, the conversation flowed more, though Bonny didn't drink, it didn't stop her from banging on about how she came to meet Thomas.

Darcy had a fond smile on her face as Dorothy made big enthusiastic gestures. Dean, her fathers name, had also leaned forward in the conversation, just happy at the atmosphere.

Thomas only leaned back with his glass, laughing along to the story and memories of the past few weeks. He found himself at peace again. This was a family home, and it felt so warm and homely despite no fire lit. The family was just warm and put together.

Thomas loved it.

"-so in other words, first and second impressions of dear Tommy, were horrendous and it was only the third time when I decided he was no longer and arsehole!" Dorothy finished the story with a wide grin.

Darcy threw her head back in bliss and jubilance as her daughter retold the tale.

Thomas also found himself bent over laughing, "me? An arsehole? I've never been so insulted!" Thomas put a mocking hand on his heart. The family only laughed harder at the antics of the two.

"Ah, look at the time. I better go to make some food for everyone!" Dorothy stood up, patting down her new trousers, the story of which Thomas laughed the hardest at.

"Oh yes, I should be going then." Thomas stood up abruptly, gathering his senses as he momentarily fell out of the warm family bubble.

"You won't stay?" Darcy stared up at him, a small smile on her face.

"Oh come on, son. You can't bail on us now. We've still got the rest of the evening to go!" Dean chuckled and stood next to Thomas.

Thomas often found that the term, "son" directed towards him to be a death wish, but in this moment, in this home: He was not Thomas Shelby. He was Tommy. He was Bubs. He was not a killer or gangster or anything that was said about him outside these walls.

Dorothy throughout the whole exchange had said nothing. Thomas decided that maybe it was okay to stay for a meal then head off.

"What we got then, Da?"

"Ah! Y'know what? I think we 'ave some butter?" Dean called from the living area.

"Bread 'n butter it is." Dorothy sighed.

"Y'know what they say, a dinner of bread and butter makes the world go round!"

"No one says that, Da."

Casual conversation resumed while Dorothy was shuffling around in the kitchen area. Thomas found that the married couple in front of him were a bit in their own world so he decided to go see what Bonny was doing.

Stalking into the kitchen, he found Bonny sifting through a cupboard filled with random food items. She pulled out a very small block of butter and a loaf of bread.

She examined the bread in comparison to the butter and got out a tin of lard as well.

Thomas watched from the corner, Bonny, seemingly in her own world, humming quietly.

Thomas now recognised some of the songs she sang. He recalled his mother singing them to him when he couldn't sleep at night. They were in Romani, and the words flowed together like a birdsong.

Dorothy cut up a few large pieces of bread and put them over the stove tray.

Though she only put three on, she got to work with separating the butter, after realising that maybe it won't be enough, she whined quietly, a sound Thomas heard like a stab to the heart. He still did not move.

After the bread was toasted she quickly took to taking the hot coals and trying to extract what was left with her tongs and put them quickly back in the large tin next to the stove.

She tried melting the butter a bit to help it spread and it seemed to work a bit, but she still didn't have enough.

With what was left, she mixed the softened butter with some of the lard and spread it on the third piece of toast and with the last, she just placed lard on it.

"It'll have to do..." He heard her mumble.

"Foods ready!" Dorothy called behind her. Dean and Darcy shuffled over to the very small table with only three chairs. Dean had an arm around Darcy's waist, though she was using him for support, it was clear she was also just happy to be in the arms of her husband again.

Dorothy looked around, trying to find another chair or stool.

As she brushed past Thomas, he grabbed onto her arm and pulled her close, "you could just share a seat with me, you had no problem doing it earlier." Thomas smirked teasingly at her. He saw the opportunity and took it without hesitation.

Dorothy only huffed our a laugh and smacked his shoulder while Thomas only grinned at her.

She came back with a very un-sturdy looking stool and perched on it.

The family got to work eating, Thomas noted that Dorothy gave her father the butter and lard piece of toast, which he didn't seem to mind and gave herself the lard one. Thomas only sighed, he knew how stubborn she was with this stuff.

Conversation stated back up as Dorothy leaned closer into Thomas' side and he steadied an arm on the back of the slightly rocking stool to keep her stable.

Thomas found himself thoroughly enjoying the night and just having fun. Something that he really hadn't had for a while. Thomas rued the day that all this would ever have to end. But for now, he kept these moments locked safe and close.

Because it was pleasant. It was nice. And she was perfect.

——

FAMILY FEEELS

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Gun Metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 14

“How the FUCK did you make porridge taste good?”

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Sunshine all the time makes a desert.

While Dorothy slept soundly and heavy in the bed upstairs. Thomas sat for hours on the sofa, nursing a glass of whiskey.

He racked his brain with ideas on everything to do with Bonny.

He thought about where she lived.

He thought about why she lived there.

He thought about how she could live there and still be the Bonny that he knows.

He thought about her, and her stature.

He thought about how he didn't notice straight away.

He thought about the fact that he could just ask around and get her name.

He thought about how doing that could break her trust in him.

And finally, he thought about how to help her.

Thomas had never cared so deeply for someone that wasn't his family. If he was honest, it scared him.

He knew that by getting out of her life, she'd be safe, but he had to be - nay, needed to be selfish.

He needed her.

The night drifted on and Thomas found himself wavering in and out of consciousness.

His body aching to go upstairs and check on her.

It was only when the clock on the mantle struck 2:00 did he push himself off the sofa and stumble up the stairs, his bones aching and his joints creaking with strain.

He opened the slightly ajar door and peeked round.

She was curled up into a tight ball that he doubted could possibly be comfortable. She had her curls strewn over her face, the fringe falling about haphazardly. Thomas knew that if she were awake she'd find herself fussing with the placement of it on her forehead.

Creeping in a bit further, he sat down on the chair next to her bed and just looked at her. Taking in her frame, although she was shrouded by the loose clothes, which Thomas could still not get over, she still looked deathly thin and pale.

He brushed a few strands of hair out of her face and smiled slightly.

"This is kind of creepy." Thomas thought to himself, only now catching the fact that he'd been just watching her while she slept.

He got back up and stiffened when a floorboard groaned under his foot.

His eyes darted back to her, he saw her face scrunch up, she dipped her head so her nose was touching her knee. Thomas was baffled by the fact that she could sleep like that and still move her head the next morning.

Maybe she was cold? Thomas didn't know. The only logical thing he could think to do was to take the spare blanket and put it over the duvet that she was sleeping under.

Thomas didn't know if it was the warmth that stopped her shaking or the extra weight, but he sighed in relief when her shaking subsided.

He left the room again, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Going back down the stairs, back to his whiskey, to waste the night away and think about his Bonny.

——

Thomas had not realised that he'd fallen asleep when he woke up that morning to the sound of shuffling upstairs.

For a brief moment he panicked before remembering the events of the previous night.

He cracked his neck and pretended to make himself look busy or lost in thought as he heard light footsteps coming down the stairs. He pretended not to notice her, though he did twitch a bit when the sound briefly stopped.

Though it was followed by the sound of feet slamming down the stairs. Thomas thought she had fallen down the stairs, but was pleasantly surprised when two arms wrapped around his shoulders before he could turn around.

"Good morning!" She rasped excitedly in his ear, squeezing him tight.

Thomas froze. He, for one, was definitely not used to this kind of physical contact. Any physical contact for that matter.

But surely, he found himself relaxing back, "mornin' Bonny. I see you've slept well."

She came around the side of the sofa and sat down next to him, stretching her arms and rubbing her eyes, "yep!"

She settled back down and with that, they settled into silence.

"You hungry?" She peeked over at him.

"You must be very hungry, I imagine." Thomas  waved off her question, annoyingly.

"Maybe I am, but you must be hungry."

"If you're hungry then I can go raid the kitchen for food?"

These two were honestly useless. Couldn't make their minds up for shit. If anyone else was there, they surely would have stormed out and made the decision for them.

Huffing at the fact they were getting nowhere, Dorothy stood up, grabbing Thomas' arm and trying her best to pull him up. To which Thomas responded by staring back up amusedly as she feebly attempted to lift the weight of a fully grown man.

"For gods sake, man. Help a girl out!" She squealed when he suddenly jumped up and she lost her balance, still gripping onto his arm.

She shut her eyes as Thomas' arm jerked back and pulled her back up, steadying her, he chuckled mockingly at her.

Once she had recovered, she slapped him on the chest, "meanie!"

Thomas raised an eyebrow at her language and tutted teasingly.

"Right, food it is then. I'll see what I can steal from your kitchen. You must be starvin'!" She marched off determinedly in the direction she hoped was the kitchen

Thomas only watched her walk away, very confused. Wasn't she supposed to be hungry? Isn't that how this works?

Following her into the kitchen as she opened cupboards and tried to find some ingredients to use.

"Go on then, sit down. I'll be done in a jiffy!" She waved over towards the table.

"Yes dear." Thomas chuckled mockingly, to which Dorothy let out a small giggle.

"Aha!" She smiled at the box of oats that she'd found..

Thomas watched her as she fiddled around at the stove, watching her movements as she hummed quietly to herself.

Even though the two were nothing, not even close to a couple, they both shared brief moments of domesticity around each other.

——

Thomas was lost in his thoughts as a bowl was placed down in front of him. A bowl of porridge.

Thomas hated porridge.

He remembered when he was younger and they could barely put anything on the table, for ages, all he could eat was porridge. Plain, bland porridge. It reminded him of when eating was a privilege, not a right.

Thomas hated porridge.

He stared at the bowl with a frown until Dorothy sat in front of him and leaned on her hands on the table, tilting her head up at him.

"Where's your bowl?" Thomas furrowed his eyebrows.

"There was only enough for one portion, so I just made one for you." Dorothy shrugged.

"You haven't eaten anything in three days, Bonny." Thomas frowned at her. He pushed the bowl in her direction.

"Yeah but that's alright. I'm not going to waltz into your home, sleep in your bed AND eat your food. That would be very rude of me."

"It's also rude to refuse food when it's offered to you." Thomas pointed back at her.

"Is this going to become a routine, Bubs?" She slumped out of her chair.

Thomas quirked an eyebrow at her as she dug into a draw and pulled out another spoon.

Thomas understood what she was getting at and chuckled lightly to himself, "we're never gonna eat a full meal at this rate." She shook her head.

Thomas noticed that she hadn't made a move to eat anything yet, and glanced up at her, she only gestures to the bowl saying, "go on, give it a try! I saw the way you looked at it earlier, but I believe I can convince you." She waited impatiently.

Thomas only took a bit on the spoon, he tried his best not to grimace at the mush, but his eye twitched, just a bit.

He decided it was best to just get it over and done with then eat a few more and make sure she ate the rest.

Thomas shoved the spoon in his mouth and for a second he just let the mush sit there.

Thomas, to say the least, was surprised. The porridge was sweeter, it was thick, it was smooth and it confused him.

He swallowed the food and put his spoon down. Dorothy leaned forward expectantly, waiting for an answer.

"How the FUCK did you make porridge taste good?" Thomas could only gush before he stopped himself.

Dorothy leaned back in her chair and smiled smugly. Dorothy didn't have a big ego but she knew where her talents lay, and she, without a doubt, could make anything taste sweet and good if she tried.

"So let me guess, you're an aspiring chef, going for the big leagues?" Thomas picked up her spoon and gestured for her to take it.

Dorothy dug the spoon into the sweet porridge, "would you believe me if I told you I was a horrible cook?" She grinned before scooping the food to her mouth, "I'm only really ok at sweet treats, never had much experience cooking n' that. But I do think I hold the world record for spreading lard on toast."

Thomas let out a small laugh and picked up his spoon again, surprisingly going for another spoonful. Dorothy only grinned and went back to eating.

Thomas thought of the taste of lard. He remembered it when that's maybe all he could get if he wanted something on his bread in the morning.

Thomas hated lard.

It was only then that Thomas leaned back and thought of Dorothy's situation. He hated it.

He didn't pity the woman because that's not what needed to be done. He didn't find it endearing that she needed his help last night. He didn't like the fact that she was so overwhelmingly caring that the idea of feeding herself first, even though she had not eaten in three days, was a preposterous idea. He didn't like that she refused to back away when she realised who he was, she only seemed more comfortable.

Dorothy seemed lost in thought, just as much as he was.

"What's on your mind?" Thomas took another mouthful and leaned back.

Dorothy shrugged, "there's something very important in human bonds that relates to eating. See, I read a book on it a while ago, it's a very primitive thing, eating communally. The logic behind it is that when a person feels comfortable in the environment they're in, they feel safe to eat. People only eat when they know they can put their head down to chew and not get it bitten off. There's just something lovely about small intimate things that we do in our day to day that no one thinks about."

Thomas mulled over her words and found himself agreeing with what she had said.

Nodding his head slowly, "you read a lot then?"

Thomas lit a cigarette as she finished the last spoonful of porridge, "I try my best to read as much as I can to educate myself. After having to leave school, I found that I wanted to learn more. I want to do so many things, Bubs. I want to become a photographer. I want to be what history will call an intellectual. I want to live and be. I know I will not amount to much, cosmically. But maybe, just maybe; if I could change someone's life, for the better; then I know, I will not have lived in vain."

Dorothy stared off into the distance before seemingly snapping back and smiling sheepishly at the information she'd just very unintentionally shared.

Thomas liked her small rambles, it made him want to listen and engage in the conversation. She made him talkative, and he thought he liked it.

"An intellectual then, huh?" Thomas smiled fondly at her. Thomas wanted her dreams to come true.

He'd be lying if he said that he didn't already have plans to help her achieve them.

——

ANOTHER ONE IN THE BAG.

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