Audrey Ng

"I'm really glad you're here"

hey guys!! this fic is set in my peaky blinders, 1920s cressworth au. this au is another one of those brain children from @amazingcressworthss and i, so most of the genius comes from her! if you want more of this au, or any of my other au’s, please let me know!! hope you enjoy!!

—

Drunken chatter, the clink of glasses, paired with the soft rolling notes of the piano filled the room. People mingled around the bar, the smell of alcohol potent even as Audrey Rose stepped inside. For a moment, she could’ve been anyone. A tired patron, sick of talking, mulling over a drink and a long day. A carefree girl with an engagement and a dancing habit. Anyone at all, other than who she was.

That freedom evaporated when her brother, dressed in a suit much too fine for the establishment, walked over to her with a drink in hand. His golden hair glinted in the light.

“You’re late, Audrey Rose.”

The urge to steal his drink grew by the minute.

 “I’m a busy girl, brother. You can’t expect me to come as soon as you call. I’m no dog.” Words left unspoken hung between them – she was busy doing tasks for their father, just as he had been. Tasks that were unwise to mention in public. With her very conspicuous brother by her side, everyone knew who they were, and what they did. If they stayed quiet, made no fuss, their night would continue interrupted. If her peacock of a brother, however, decided to make themselves openly known… things would not continue as smoothly as they’d like.

“You know what Father asked of you?”

She fought not to scowl as she remembered her father’s instructions. The fragile peace between the Wadsworth and Cresswell gangs grew more unstable with each passing day, to the notice of the local police. They couldn’t do much to stop the family operations, but they could make a show of arresting members, which was nothing if awful for business. So, her father had hatched a plan, no doubt as punishment for her latest transgressions.

Strike up a fake courtship with the Cresswell heir, and try not to slit his throat while the danced.

One of which was a much more difficult request to comply with.

“Of course.”

“And you’ll be on your best behaviour?”

“Of course.” She lied, and he knew immediately. But, to his little credit, dropped the subject and left her side. Audrey Rose savoured the few precious moments she had alone. Alone in a bustling, busy bar was a unique situation, but she liked the anonymity the crowd leant her. Without her brother by her side, her head kept down low to avoid any lingering stares, she could imagine a life without the constant terror her rivals. Without the steady, heart-stopping fear of everything she’d worked towards toppling down in an instant.

“You look delectable, Wadsworth.” And her solace was broken, just like that.

Apparently, his father had given him similar instructions, because he looked good enough to eat. She certainly wasn’t the only one thinking so, if the hungry looks from the bar’s male and female patrons were any indication.

“You look standard, Cresswell.” She returned, not looking at him. She hated this role she had to play, this godforsaken façade. Hated the arrogant son of the Cresswell’s leader, hated their rivalry. She could barely stomach the sight of him, afraid those around would see her true feeling shining through her face.

“How cruel,” He whispered and offered her his hand. To dance, she realised with a jolt. Standing and conversing was one thing, but how on earth would she hold herself together for a dance? With their bodies pressed together, hearts beating mere inches from each other….

Her father’s words rang out in her mind as she accepted his outstretched hand. Surely she could do no harm in a single dance?

Thomas led her to the sectioned off area of the room designated to dance, just as the dastardly music changed to a slow waltz. A waltz was no longer the height of scandal it once was, but the proximity to one’s partner, especially in a slow one, was enough to send heat flushing down her spine. It was difficult to hear the beat clearly above the roar of the room, but her partner in dance and crime seemed to feel it without sound.

Something flashed behind his eyes as they stood close together, hand in hand, but she didn’t dare contemplate what.

If she concentrated, she could feel his heart, thrashing wildly in his chest. He was as nervous as she was. The heat of the room, combined with her own frayed nerves, created an awful equation for sweaty palms. If the Cresswell heir noticed, he declined to comment.  

Her eyes wandered as far down his body as they could reach, then snapped back up to his face. Her face burned with half embarrassment, half terror at the danger of such a longing look. Father had asked her to fake a courtship, yes, but if he thought there was any risk of her being… emotionally compromised, as he would phrase, all the little agency she had would slip through her fingers like water. Gone, without a trace, without the chance of redemption. She would never let that happen, least of all for a handsome boy.

Instead, she willed herself to focus on the music. Getting lost in the three-quarter beat, despite the noise of the room, was even easier than losing her father’s trust. Which, she knew from experience, was rather fickle.  

Too soon and nowhere near soon enough, the music came dwindling to a stop. Her duties were to get close to the Cresswell heir – surely a dance was enough for a night? She didn’t think she could handle any more, not with how he looked at her. As if all the decorum in the world couldn’t hide his thoughts.

Dangerous, she thought. Looks like that were all too fickle and fast in this world of theirs, gone with a trace, but often leaving irreparable damage. One wrong look could cause a casualty, one wrong move could destroy everything.

“A pleasure,” She said, voice curt. She wanted to get out as soon as possible.

“The pleasure was all mine,” His voice cut through the dull blurred noise of the crowd in the background. They were still pressed together from their dance, their hearts beating rapidly in time.

She risked a glance at his face. He was equally aware of prying eyes. The pair stepped apart, cold air rushing to fill the space the other had once taken up. A sharp awakening.

Almost naturally, his hand brushed down his sleeve to tap once, twice, thrice against his watch. To anyone else, it was an odd movement from an odd son. He could rarely stay still and now was no exception.

But she knew exactly what he meant, what hopes that small movement held.

Keeping her face calm and unimpressed, she nodded in farewell. She walked back to her brother, plucked his drink right out of his waiting hands, and downed the thing in one. Out the corner of her eye, her brother’s face slipped into outrage. The edge of her lip curled up in amusement.  

Thank heaven that was over.

***

Hours later, the night air cooled her flushed skin. She looked once, twice, thrice before crossing the main street into the back alley, checking for late-night stragglers and suspicious strangers. She was paranoid, of a certainty, but she couldn’t risk even the slightest exposure. Not where she was going.

Her heels made a small sound as she walked along the cobbled streets, though the dark amplified the noise, making the tiniest clack sound like a crash. Finally, she reached her destination. A dilapidated shack tucked away between two abandoned stores – the perfect hideaway for someone with nowhere to hide.

Checking over her shoulder and waiting a moment for total silence, she slipped through the door. The shack itself was nothing special – one room, barely any furniture, nothing worthy to steal. Her excitement only grew as she approached the door at the back of the room. Metal, unlike the wooden front.

Audrey Rose slipped a key out from her shoe, jamming it into the old lock. She paused to listen out of habit. Nothing but the gentle, dull rabble of the streets.

With a sharp tug, the door swung open, silent as the dead. She had oiled it thousand times, exactly for nights like this.

The beauty of dingy shacks in cut off streets was that no one ever stopped to look. Even if they had, prying eyes would never notice the slight difference in size between the inside and the out. If noticed, most would’ve shrugged it off as a trick of the light, nothing more than an optical illusion.

But it was an optical illusion that held every one of her dreams, as well as the key to her closed-off heart.

The door revealed a second, tinier room, no bigger than the size of a cupboard. Completely normal, if it wasn’t for the lack of dust.

She waited a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, before crouching down and finding the handle hidden on the floor. The ground seemed no more suspicious than a blue sky, but it was the grand entrance hall to her deepest desires.

The concealed trap-door opened to reveal a hole that was no bigger than a square metre. Light shone at the bottom of the descent, catching the rusted bars of the ladder. Finally, she was home.

She’d made the descent so many times it was muscle memory, which was a thankful reprieve for her mind. She couldn’t think of anything else but the home that lay at the end of the journey.

The moment her feet touched the floor of the underground bunker, the wild pace of her heart began to slow. The bunker itself was nothing special. An old bunker left behind after the war, barely big enough to fit a bed. Its original purpose was to store alcohol, but to her, it stored something infinitely more precious.

Home.

Thomas Cresswell, the heir to the Cresswell gang and love of her life, sat on the tiny bed in the corner. It really wasn’t big enough for a man of his size, but they made it work. Upon seeing her, he tossed his romance novel to the floor and bounced up.

It was with a genuine smile on his face that he tugged her into his embrace, and kissed her with all the love the world contained. She melted into the kiss, taking note of how he tasted, how his body felt pressed against her own, how his hair felt beneath her fingers. Every moment could’ve been their last, so they made it count.

“It was torture pretending not to love you,” He murmured against her lips, not bothering to pull away. His breath brushed against her cheek, and she leaned into his warmth.

“I missed you. So much.” Was her reply. They both knew she wasn’t talking about physical distance.

It pained her beyond words to pretend as if the boy in her arms wasn’t the most loving person she’d ever met. To look at him and not convey how deeply she loved him, how entwined she hoped their future was. Her father would’ve scolded her to the high heavens if he knew the truth, but the things Richard Cresswell would do if he found out…

Safe to say, if the leader of the Cresswell gang ever found out about their emotional entanglement, both families would be left with missing children.  

In their embrace, they had drifted over to near the bed. Flopping down ungracefully, Thomas patted his side, wanting to hold her again. The bed struggled to accommodate him by himself, so the two of them had to squeeze together to even remotely fit. Somehow, it didn’t seem like the end of the world.

Carefully placing her purse down on the makeshift table beside the bed, she kicked off her shoes and laid down. She nuzzled up close, resting her head on the single pillow. He was pressed up against the wall on his side, propped up by his elbow. His free hand caressed her face with heartbreaking gentility.

“It never gets easier, does it?” His hand moved to stroke soft patterns against her arm, pulling her even close. Even with no space between them, it was never enough. Would never be enough until they could kiss in public without fear, or look at each other without an emotional mask.

“Never,” She murmured. “I fear it only gets worse.”

Audrey Rose looked up at him. She framed his face between her palms, holding her whole world there. She fell for no cons but the idea of forever; the sweetest one there was.

They both knew they were fooling themselves. Their dreams of escaping together were passed even ‘far-fetched’. ‘Impossible’ was a generous description.

But still, despite Thomas’ subscription to logic and her knowledge of their world, they couldn’t stop hoping. Couldn’t stop fostering their dream of a new life, a different life, where they could share a normal-sized bed and dance without a care. In their sleeping hours, at least, things were possible.

“One day we’ll run away,” She said. Perhaps if she said it often enough, it would bloom into fruition without pain. “One day, we’ll have our own house and our own cat to name whatever we want. You’ll spin me around in the living room to no music at all, and I’ll laugh, and we’ll never have to worry about secrecy again.”

She could see it in her mind’s eye, that glorious dream future of theirs. Wanted it so desperately her heart nearly burst.

His eyes sparkled in the dim light of the bunker, making his gaze appear wholly golden.

“I want that more than anything.” They both did.

The pair fell into a relaxed silence. They’d gotten so good at communicating through crowds that now they didn’t need to talk to understand the other’s love. She felt it, radiating through his chest, his touch, his warmth. Every time her heart beat, he felt her love in return.

Her eyes had begun to droop when Thomas’ voice interrupted the quiet.

“Wait, did you say we’d get a cat?”

“What?” She scrunched up her nose in confusion.

“In our future, you were describing, you mentioned a cat, did you not?”

“… Yes?” In truth, she’d pictured it a near hundred times before. Her and her love, curled up by the fire in the dead of winter, a novel in her hands and a purring cat perched on her lap. The ultimate fantasy.

“What would we name it?”

“What would we name… our imaginary cat?”

He stared at her as if she’d grown a third head.

“Of course – we couldn’t leave it nameless, that would be monstrous.” A laugh forced its way through her lips of its own volition. He could be completely ridiculous sometimes, but she adored that carefree, silly side of him.

“I don’t know, Cresswell. What would you suggest?”

He grinned, and she knew he’d been waiting for her to ask that.

“I was thinking something traditional, a nod to our passions.” He stopped, waiting for her to gesture for him to continue. The theatrics never ended.

“Go on.”

“Something like… Sir Isaac Mewton? Sir Isaac, for short.” Thomas smiled triumphantly as if he’d just invented a life-saving medicine, and not named an imaginary cat.

“You’re impossible.”

“Impossible not to adore.” He stole a kiss to her cheek.

“I know – I’ve tried.”  

Still, the image blossomed in her mind. Their ridiculous-named cat, their life together. Free of guns and bloodshed. The only blood they knew in this fantasy timeline was the congealed substance smeared on mortuary blades during an autopsy. Nothing of pain, nothing of that constant, bone-deep paranoia, the inherent fear that came with their fragile hold on power.

Audrey Rose was known among both the gangs for her resourcefulness, but not even she had figured out a plan to reach it.  All she knew was that if anything happened to her love, her Thomas… she would never love again. And wreak pure destruction on those responsible.

“What are you thinking about?” He poked her nose as he spoke, eliciting a tiny smile.

“That horrendous name you picked out for our future cat.”

“Don’t be cruel, my love. We can name the second one Pawdrey Rose, after you, if you’d like.”

“A second cat? Are we planning on owning a litter?”

He gasped in mock hurt, clutching his chest.

“You wound me! Two is hardly a litter… five, however, is both feasible and correct.”

She couldn’t hold back the roll of her eyes. She nestled closer against his body, finding comfort in the gentle vibrations of his chest as he laughed. Thomas pulled her impossibly close. Despite the confines of their bed, nothing was ever close enough. Some days she wanted to curl up in his pocket and rest there until the storm blew over. Others, she was out on the front lines, gun in hand, knives strapped to her thighs and eyes glaring.

“We are not having five cats.” She mumbled from her position in his arms.

“Fine.” Her love conceded. His tone was comically grumpy. “I suppose our cat-child with have to suffer with only three siblings then.”

She didn’t bother to reply, merely poking his side in jest. Thomas kissed her forehead. His lips lingered against her skin; she wished they would stay forever. Just as she wished they would never leave this makeshift safe-haven.

Eventually, the time came where even their wildest dreams of the evening fizzled out. They never left at the same time, lest they were spotted together. Thomas left first, having arrived before her.

“One day,” He promised, his forehead pressed against her own, “I’ll never have to leave again. I swear to you, Audrey Rose. One day we’ll stay in bed till noon.”

Such simple, gentle dreams.

“One day,” She murmured. With another stolen kiss and a longing backward glance, he was gone.

One day. She would fight tooth and nail to ensure that day would come to pass. No matter what the stakes, no matter how deep the cost. She just hoped the world was ready when she did

—

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Zagreus: Um, what?

Poseidon: Nothing! They just waved.

Zagreus: O-Oh...

Poseidon: Did you sea what I did there?

Zagreus: I don’t think I did.

Poseidon: I’m shore you did.

Zagreus: *picking the other Olympian boon* Please stop.