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Birmingham.
Fuckin' Birmingham. What in the name of Satan's arsehole was he even doing here anyway?
Alfie Solomons sighed loudly and rubbed his numb hands together, brow furrowing in annoyance as he paced the sidewalk, surveying the scene in front of him. He found himself chewing on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from yelling at Ollie, who was simply standing to the side shuffling nervously on the snow covered concrete, avoiding eye contact, and waiting instructions.
Alfie, definitely never one for dramatics in any shape or form, glared fiercely at every unfortunate passer-by, a puff of steam escaping from his mouth as if the seething irritation inside of him had manifested itself into a small jewish dragon - which was battling to escape and set upon anyone within standing distance.
He wondered, not for the first time that morning, how the hell it was that Tommy had convinced him to travel the four bloody hours from his comfortable, warm abode, only to then ask to meet with him in the bustling, slush-filled, mind-numbing city that he had made every effort to move so far away from in the first place?
And where was the arrogant little bastard now? Nowhere to be seen, yeah. While Alfie, unaccustomed to being kept waiting, stood around in the snow, utterly convinced that he would most assuredly freeze to death if he had to linger here on the sidewalk for yet another fifteen minutes.
Ridiculous.
Pursing his lips, he inwardly berated himself for letting himself be talked into this. But he honestly couldn't be blamed, could he? I mean, Tommy had been so utterly convincing when they had spoken on the phone.
"Come to Birmingham, Alfie." he'd deadpanned.
Who could say no to that, right? Underneath the distracted sounding invitation, Alfie was convinced that he sensed a deep set enthusiasm - and let's face it, Alfie Solomons was seldom wrong.
But then...here he was. Quietly dying from frostbite, thanks to whichever Gods had decided to curse him in his already long suffering state - alone, save for the company of Ollie and the noisy little bastards who were twittering and screeching loudly in the trees above him.
Fuckin' birds.
"Alfie!" came a voice from behind him, causing him to swing around carelessly, almost losing his footing, if not for the cane in his hand. "There you are."
The vision of an immaculately dressed and flawlessly styled Tommy Shelby momentarily stunned Alfie into a brief moment of silence. Perfection from his dark hair and glacial eyes, to his exquisitely tailored waistcoat, down to the soles of his unmistakably expensive footwear. Alfie blinked stupidly at his friend, as always slightly thrown by how very baffling it was that anyone could possibly be this insanely attractive, yet so incredibly annoying at the same time.
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Alfie let out an indignant grunt.
"Yeah, mate. Here I am. Here I've been for the last 45 minutes, wouldn't you know it?" He threw his arms up in the air for emphasis.
"Luckily for me, my time is apparently very much worthless, which gives me ever so much more opportunity to stand around here waiting for the King of Birmingham to get his bloody arse out of bed."
Extending his hand, seemingly oblivious to the older man's thinly veiled sarcasm, Tommy grasped Alfie's large hand in his, his skin surprisingly warm to the touch - which somehow trapped Alfie's next snide quip in his throat before it could make it's escape.
Making his way past Alfie, he indicated with a nod of his head that he should walk alongside him, heading through the bedraggled park which would eventually lead them towards Garrison Lane. Why Tommy had insisted on this whole...walking business was quite beyond Alfie's understanding. Isn't this why cars were invented? Nevertheless, as with any of Tommy's schemes and plans, Alfie was intrigued.
Moving more briskly than he had in weeks, Alfie trotted alongside Tommy like an overgrown puppy dog who had suddenly found himself the centre of attention.
What exactly was it though, about Thomas Shelby that could make Alfie's temper go from zero to a thousand in the blink of an eye - from his typically mildly irritated self to a furniture throwing, babbling madman in 10 seconds flat? He could start the conversation all calm and collected, an absolute vision of peaceful serenity - but then one wayward word from Tommy would send him flying into a tailspin, heralding a tantrum of epic proportions. Most of their interactions ended with the likelihood of turning even the smallest of issues into the mother of all battles.
Clearing his throat, eager to make a statement that would impress his fine looking counterpart, the sagacious jew blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
"Onions."
Tommy paused mid stride, turning to look at his friend curiously.
"Eh?"
Straightening his shoulders, Alfie nodded as if he were about to impart some fantastical nugget of wisdom.
"Hmmm....yeah. Onions. Did you know, that if you plug your nose when you're eating either an onion, a potato or an apple, you wouldn't be able to tell the difference?"
Tommy's lips twitched slightly upwards at this new information, and he continued on his way, Alfie keeping pace.
"Is that so?"
Encouraged, Alfie continued "Oh...yeah absolutely Tom. Y'see your sense of smell is responsible for interpreting around 80 percent of what you taste, so without that they're relatively indistinguishable! Can you imagine, right" He chuckled "not having the ability to tell the difference? I mean apple pie would indisputably not have a place at my dinner table if there was a chance it was made with onion, believe you me, mate!"
Much to Alfie's delight, Tommy let out a small huff of laughter.
"I'll be sure to keep that in mind the next time you visit my house, Alfie"
Tommy's house? Was that an invitation?
Obviously he was making a stellar impression, so he continued. Now that he had started on this particular topic of conversation, Alfie couldn't seem to stop himself. His nerves getting away from him as if on a high speed train, apparently along with all of his common sense.
"Oh yeah, love. You have no idea....Let's not forget the fact that they're entirely toxic to dogs! I mean, what kind of deranged lunatic came up with the utterly bizarre idea of actually eating such a horrendous morsel in the first place eh? I mean. Okay, so you've discovered this thing yeah? Then y'pick it up and see that it's brown and ugly, with all these weird papery layers to it....and the smell? Awful stuff! Then somehow you end up thinking to yourself...'I really must eat this'...honestly can you even, Tommy?"
"Alfie..."
"And don't get me started on the texture. Heaven's sake, no. Appalling." he rumbled, oblivious to the attempted interruption. "Ah! Yes! And then are truffles, which are actually a fungus. A fungus! Did you know that Thomas?"
"Well no, Alfie I..." Tommy attempted.
"Which of course are in fact are not toxic to dogs at all. Actually they use dogs to locate these truffles...which yeah, I dunno, they just smell like someone's dirty old sock to me. Course, far be it from me to express my distaste for such things. Hardly a connoisseur of fine food though, am I now? Just seems a bit unreasonable to expect a person to be paying through the nose for such nonsense.."
"Alfie.."
"Funny saying that, innit? Paying though the nose..."
"Yes....quite..but, Alfie...."
"Ha! Before I actually met you, I always imagined you'd have a great big gold hoop through your nose. I ever tell you that?"
Tommy stopped walking, closing his eyes briefly and sighing before looking down at himself, patting down his coat pockets with exaggerated hand gestures as if searching for something.
Alfie frowned, observing Tommy's actions, expression filled with confusion. "What're y'doing, Tom?"
Tommy let out a small grunt, as he continued to search his jacket.
"Looking for my gun."
"What?! What the hell for?" Alfie yelped, glancing around in alarm for the unseen threat.
"I was thinking that I might shoot you. To stop you from talking."
Stopping dead in his tracks, Alfie's hands curled into tight fists at his side.
"What??"
"Got no choice, Alfie." A hint of amusement in the crease of Tommy's eyes.
Alfie's face had started turning a deep shade of red, his jaw tightening as he glared at Tommy.
"You fucking WHAT??"
"Alfie. I just wanted to-"
Before he could finish, Alfie grabbed Tommy by the lapels of his coat, trying to decide whether to drown him in a barrel of rum, or to just to simply slam his fist into Tommy's pretty face.
Instead, he roughly shoved his younger friend away, pointing an angry finger in his direction. "Fuck you, Thomas Shelby. We're done here." he hissed. With that he turned on his heel and stormed off, muttering to himself a string of Yiddish litanies as he went, his mood darkening even further as he realised it was beginning to snow.
Marching back towards wherever the fuck he'd left Ollie, Alfie was about to start plotting a most heinous revenge when something connected with the back of his head with what he was sure was a rock the size of a small planet, almost knocking him off his feet.
Feeling a trickle of ice cold water drip down from his hair, under his shirt and down his back, Alfie turned around slowly to face his assailant, wearing a look of fury that would reduce any God fearing man to a pile of ashes.
Tommy looked back at him with the most genuine, utterly endearing grin plastered across his face, holding a snowball in one hand and his cap in the other, looking for all the world like a little boy who was up to no good.
Alfie stood there blinking at him, mouth opening and closing stupidly as struggled to make sense of what just happened.
"Did you...I mean..what - you..if the.."
"Use your words, Alfie."
"Did you just throw a fucking snowball at my head?"
The cheeky smile spread further over Tommy's sweetly flushed cheeks. Snowflakes were now drifting down around them, getting caught in Tommy's dark hair. The contrast somehow stealing the air from Alfie's lungs. And as he noticed a single snowflake land on one of Tommy's long, heavy eyelashes Alfie quietly marvelled that Tommy might be the most breathtaking sight in the entire world.
"Yes. I did. And I'm about to throw another one."
Alfie felt the anger suddenly leave him, his features lighting up with a lopsided smile of his own.
"Oh you are fuckin' dead, Shelby" He growled as Tommy took aim yet again.
And with that, Alfies cane was cast aside and he scrambled after Tommy, who had taken off, laughter racking his body as he struggled to run in the snow.
"C'mere you little shite. You think you're fuckin' funny now do you?" Alfie yelled playfully as Tommy swerved around Alfie's attempts to tackle him, ducking behind a large pile of rocks.
Crouching low to the ground, Alfie grabbed a large handful of snow, shuffling as quietly as he could in Tommy's direction.
Leaping out from his position, Alfie dashed at Tommy with an astonishing speed, given his size, spearing him to the ground and treating him to a face full of powder, all the while staring in wonderment at the vision beneath him.
There were a great many injustices in this world, Alfie thought to himself. One of them being that Tommy Shelby could manage to look as ethereal as he did right in that moment. Those mesmerising blue eyes, bright with mischief, his face and hair damp with snow. His skin rosy from the cold, making the freckles across his nose even more pronounced as he stared up at Alfie through wet lashes.
Unable to help himself, Alfie lifted a hand and gently cupped Tommy's face - growing bolder when the smaller man made no effort to move away, trailing a finger along his cheek.
"I thought you said you were done with me..." Tommy murmured.
"Yeah, mate. I say a lot of things."
"So I've noticed. "
Alfie hesitated only for a brief second before ducking his head to capture Tommy's lips with his own, just the barest whisper of a touch at first - pulling away after only a few moments to gauge Tommy's reaction.
Biting his full lower lip Tommy merely sighed contentedly before grasping Alfie's shirt and pulling him back down to him, deepening the kiss. Alfie carded his fingers through Tommy's soft locks, running them down his back before grabbing at Tommy's thighs, pulling them up so his legs wrapped around Alfie's waist, rocking against each other until they were both flushed and breathless.
Pulling apart, they simply stared at each other for a long while, neither one wanting to break the spell. Tommy curled a hand into Alfie's hair, fingers moving in lazy circles against his scalp.
Eventually Tommy gave Alfie's chest a gentle push, indicating that they should get up. Alfie helped pull Tommy to his feet, and both men continued on the pathway, walking companionably side-by-side, their shoulders occasionally brushing as they strolled.
Running a hand through his beard, Alfie tilted his head to the side and considered his friend for a moment.
"So... what were you attempting to about to ask me Thomas?"
Tommy shrugged nonchalantly "S'nothing. Was just trying to ask you if you'd be staying for dinner tonight."
Alfie grinned, feeling a pleasant warmth pooling in his chest. It made him feel like he was at peace. They way he felt when he was Home. How he felt when he sat on his balcony, watching the snow falling on Margate.
"That I will pet. That I will."
Tommy simply nodded, trying in vain to hide a smile.
They continued on, having finally neared Garrison Lane. Tommy turned to look up at his friend as if a sudden thought had occurred to him.
"Alfie? Why on earth do you know so much about onions?"
"A font of knowledge, is what people call me, Thomas"
"When you say 'people'....you mean...You, don't you?"
"Yeah, sweetie...."