A lively voice broke through the haze of drunken whispers around him, his head shooting up, “Well look who it is!”. The tall muscular man stood openly, arms already stretching outwards. With a groan, the younger, averted his eyes at the recognition of his brother. A trail of alcohol creeping in right behind him. 

“Piss off Arthur”, he shifted in his seat. Seriously? Does it look like I have fucking time for this right now? 

“Oh come on John boy! Don’t be boring.”, the corners of the man’s mouth stretched out wide mimicking that of a conman. Sizing up the other, how many hits it would take. John’s shoulders hunched down with exhaustion. Yet, with a sigh, he gave in. Standing up he plastered on a smile and performed a simple shrug. A slight apathy still hiding in his eyes. 

Arthur gave out a bellowed cheer in delight. Clasping his hands on his brother's shoulder and hurriedly guided him towards the pub’s bar. Banging his hands on the counter as he confidently recited an order as old as time. 

“2 Irish whiskey’s neat!” 

Arthur turned to face John, “You caught up with dad lately?”, an all too cheery tone for the question. John shot him a glance, his nose wrinkled. Right, a hurt dog doesn’t leave its owner. 

“Why the fuck would I want to?”, he shot back. Quickly he turned on his heels, drink in hand. Ready as ever to sprint as far as possible. Arthur’s hand tightly clasped itself on his arm. Squeezing him back in. A dumbfounded look was etched into his brother's face. Rolling his eyes he shook off the iron grip. Carefully marching his way through the drunken crowd. Arthur hurriedly followed behind. 

Suddenly John halted to a stop. Swiftly he turned, “Fuck off Arthur.”, his breathing ragged with contempt. Still not getting it. Staring down at his brother his eyes narrowed. “Sorry that I have a fucking brain eh? That I can see what he’s fucking trying to do.” John barked. Arthur’s smile dropped. 

“You’re being unreasonable John. He’s changed, I know he has.”, he took a step forward, “If you just talked to him you’d-” a loud crack as John’s fist collided straight into his brother's jaw. Arthur stared back in disbelief. Blood filling up his mouth. With a gruff look he spit it out. 

“You going to hit me back? We both know you want to eh? The apple never falls far from the fucking tree.” John jeered. The older brother’s fists clenched, shallow breaths as he tried to push the rage back in his throat. With a sigh John knocked back the rest of his drink, his body swaying as it moved towards the bathroom. 

“He’s fucking changed.” Arthur said through gritted teeth. With a sudden hurriedness he lunged forward. Gripping John’s shirt and pushing him against a wall. John suddenly froze. A sudden peacefulness to his face, acceptance almost. Narrowing his eyes Arthur looked at his brother with sudden disgrace. The two brothers stared at each other for a moment, one fast one controlled. 

Then John flung his head forward smashing it against Arthur. He stumbled back as his body wobbled. A fury lit within him. Crowds began to pause, murmuring whispers, forming a circle around the two. Punches were flung around as sweat went flying. Arthur stumbled forward as John ducked around and under the punches. 

Finally, a barman cried out, “Oi! Stop or get out of here.”. With a halt the boys finally paused. Their breaths heavy. Disheveled hair held up with sweat. John’s eyes were glassy as he took in what he had done. Stumbling back he bolted into the bathroom. A cubicle door slamming shut.

Arthur instantly chased after him. Calling out the younger boy's name with caution. Shit. Too far. Fuck, too far. The sound of hurried paced steps made their way through the locked door. Arthur hesitated right by the sinks. Conflict working its way through his brain.

“Why?”, he finally croaked. 

“Go.”, a broken out cry, “Please.” Arthur let out a deep sigh. Solemnly he sulked back away, each movement sending a hurling reminder of tonight’s events. Secretly, and not without guilt, he sent out an alert. His fingers twitched as each key was pressed. With a slow deep breath he freed himself of his own guilt, sharing it is easier is it not? 

A strangled cry escaped John’s throat, another door slammed. John thrashed his fist into the stall door. Pale white flesh of his knuckle ripping apart against the cool hard plastic. A steady stream of tears had begun to flow freely. At least he knows how to forgive. A dull buzz rang out through his pocket. Fuck. The date.

It had taken John & Esme a year to finally admit that it had never been casual, for either of them. They were to be finally celebrating a month that night. John lurched over to the porcelain seat nearby. An ache grew from his stomach as its very few contents spilled right out. “Missus Twat”, light of the screen burning his eyes, shakily he accepted. 

“Hey, you ready?” 

“Yeah, about that actually.” John let out a muffled wince as he moved, “Already at the Garrison, me and Arthur got into a thing.”. Esme let out an agitated swear. The pitch of her voice raised ever so slightly. John carefully cut Esme off, “It’s not that big a deal alright. Just a little disagreement, you can meet me here.”, he argued. 

The explosive sound of shrieken singing came bursting out, John winced. Mumbling apologies to Esme he pulled away. Attention turned to the familiar shoes that stood at the door. Arthur. Can’t get worse from here can it?,  “Let me guess Arthur sent you.” he accused. A high pitched squeak broke the silence as John unlocked the door painstakingly slowly. 

John couldn’t look Thomas in the eyes, staring off to the side as shame coursed through his veins. Thomas’s brows furrowed as the pieces of John’s appearance clicked in his mind. He tilted his head towards the sink. John trembled as he awkwardly limped forward. Resting himself up against the sink. Thomas returned with the first aid kit in hand. His eyes flickered to and from John. Clusters of his skin had already mottled. Shades of purple, green, blue blooming out from under. Thankfully, the bleeding had slowed itself already. Coagulated clumps remain on his knuckles, bits and pieces smeared throughout his hair. 

With a cough Thomas caught John’s attention. The grovelled tone of voice shook something back into place. 

“It’s going to sting.”, an absent nod. John winced through his teeth as the wipe gently ran across his skin. Thomas took it all in. The glassy eyes, clenched jaw, sharp breaths. 

“You miss her?” 

John finally dared to look at Thomas. His eyes were narrow, a command. Yes. “It’s fine.” Thomas took in a sharp breath. They had been here before. “Don’t give me that shit John,” his voice suddenly apprehensive, “we all miss her.” The room fell into silence as Thomas carefully inspected the rest of the boy's wounds. Don’t. They don’t get it. Not like this. Thomas took his time carefully wrapping the bandage around John’s knuckles. Everything about him was all too composed for a place like this, a night like this. “At least now Esme won’t lose it when she sees you.”, he teased. 

John ran his hand over his face, exhaustion taking over. “Yeah.” His eyes darted around the room. Thousands of possibilities ran through his head, racing to plan out the solution for each. Make the blow into as much of a gentle touch as he could. Thomas clicked his tongue. 

“How ‘bout we get you a drink then? That’ll help,” he instructed. John aggressively nodded his head. He bolted up, staggered his way right back to the bar. Thomas carefully drifted through the crowd after. Cold blue eyes, burning a hole directly into John’s head. It didn’t take him even a second before a first shot was ordered, and downed. Thomas clapped John on the shoulder as he coughed. Signaling to the barman for another round. 

At the clicking sound of kitten heels, John whipped around. “She’s here,” If any god exists please save me now. Esme bolted forward, her hand grasping John’s jaw. The man winced as he was posed around for her inspection. He scanned around for his brother's backup only to deflate, none to be found. 

“What did you do?”, fuck, “Nothing.” 

Esme raised her eyebrow, fluent in his language, John gripped her wrist. Carefully he led the way to their spot. Esme sat up straight in the booth. Her arms crossed carefully around her chest, her shield. John looked down at the table. Carefully he tried to steady his breath. Esme’s brows furrowed, Don’t look, her hand gliding across to his. He raced his hand into hers. All of his weight tunnelled into his grasp. Dying men will still grasp for a lifeboat. 

 “Arthur thinks I need to catch up with ,” his voice cracked, “our dad.” 

Esme squeezed her hand back. “Get what he was doing but, fuck, today of all days.”, there was no light left in the boys voice. Esme shifted herself closer towards John. She rested her hand on his cheek, gentler than before, with admiration in her eyes. 

“You could have called me-.”

“No, you don’t really want that Esme,” his head peeled away from her hand. The look in her eyes crumpled, Remember, she doesn’t know. If she did she would agree. Don’t fuck this up, or at least try to not fuck it up more. 

“Just leave it. It’s our anniversary. Got plans for us tonight,” he teased. 

“What, so I can kiss you better? Esme batted her lashes, a subtle smirk on her lips. “That could be arranged,” he hummed. John grinned wildly as Esme turned back, searching for a nearby spot. Esme released a gasped moan, John's body slinked around the table as their lips met. Pulling his head into her hands she pulled them to the bathroom. Their bodies tangled together on the way. Abruptly Esme pulled them away into a stall. A hypnotic look on her eyes, “Come get me.” 

John dived in. His lips met Esme’s with passion, a soft hum escaping her lips. John grasped Esme’s waist. Pulling her body taut against his. She let out a soft gasp as her back met with cool plastic. John gently lifted her leg up, the heel of her shoe scraping against his back. Frustrations from the night melted away as his mouth began to travel down her neck. Esme’s nails scratched against his head. Slowly he went further and further down, sinking lower onto his knees. Esme whined as John’s lips pulled away. She melts with a sigh as his fingers graze exactly where she needs them. 

“Oh you like that don’t you?” Esme nodded furiously. John darted his tongue out against the center of her legs. Her hands tugged at his hair, leading him exactly where she wanted. John stilled his tongue as Esme rutted herself against his mouth. His pupils were blown wide as he watched her in a haze of his own pleasure. The fog of fury was lifted into waves upon waves of pure euphoria. Esme’s deep brown eyes met his, her breath just as wild as his, and he dove in with fervor. Moans and gasps of delight breaking out through Esme’s breathy laughs. John gripped her thigh, her breath hitching. 

Esme knew how to hear the words unspoken. She was well acquainted with interpreting the stares she got when she travelled with her family in their not-English traditional clothes and painted caravans. It always screamed at her when the slurs were stuck on their tongues, hung on by a thread. She had to learn quickly how to weed out those with good intentions, and those with bad. This skill served her well when she married John. As a Shelby, deceit was everywhere- in the family and out. As a mother, she soon learned the unspoken language of her step-children, always knowing how they felt from their cautious glances and wild, flickering eyes. As a wife, she soon figured out what John's downcast eyes meant when she asked about the long shifts, or the lipstick on his collar. She always wondered if he saw her little mannerisms and interpreted them like she had, making a little note of them in her mind like a treasure. Or, did he just see her as the wild woman he was promised?

Just like John, you were easy for her to decode. But, this time, it wasn't until her one and a half year old, Martha, came up to her and tugged at her sleeve that she realised she needed a little help.

"Mummy!" She whined, making Esme smile softly as she crouched down to be at the same height as her daughter. "Y/N. Sad."

She spat the words out harshly, but it was enough to get Esme nodding her head. If the message wasn't as troubling as it was, she probably would've whooped and yelled with pride. Her and John had been waiting for their little'n to start making sentences ever since she began garbling and chirping like her Uncle Arthur after one too many beers. John would want to hear her when he got home from work. But, first, she had to make sure you were alright. She sent Martha to go and play with her older brother Lee and the rest of John's kids in the garden, running around the expanse of the green field with spaniels nipping at their heels. The little girl giggled as the eldest, Louise, grabbed her little chubby hand and helped her catch up with the older ones. Seeing them at ease and safe made her relax for a moment before she went back inside, turning her head over her shoulder to make sure they were all still there in their game of chase.

It felt colder as soon as she walked in, without the sun shining on her face. Her bare feet padded along the wooden floors, her dress floating around her as she walked through the long corridor. She still couldn't help but trail her fingertips down the wallpaper, admiring each painting and ornament like it was the first time she'd seen it- there was still a disbelief in her that this was hers. That she lived here. That every corridor she walked down in bare feet was hers to walk in, that all of those fields down to the stream were hers to run in, along with the children, that in the stables there were horses to feed and take care of. She still couldn't believe that every breath of fresh air she took wasn't the smoke and smog of Small Heath. They may have had a rocky beginning, but John had gotten their family a good life. Out of the bloody Peaky Blinders and into the sunlight. But that didn't mean nothing was the same anymore.

You were sat on the sofa, legs tucked underneath you as the baby Sophie was held to your chest. Ever since she had learned she could roll over, she had been attempting to make every moment a chance to show it off. Thus, the Moses basket was considered a liability, and there was no way either Esme or Joh was gonna but a crib in every single room in this house. So, being held was the only way to keep her still. You were looking out of the window, smiling at the children as they started to race each other. The smile didn't quite reach your eyes. You had been quieter than normal, she supposed, but she hadn't seen that look for some time now.

"Hey," she brushed her hand against your shoulder as she spoke, knowing that startling you would lead to an almighty scream from the sleepy baby. "How is she?"

"She keeps on looking at the rest of them," you said, nodding out of the window. "Think she wants to join them."

"Oh, well, she's gonna have to wait a while for that." Esme lightly brushed her thumb over her daughter's cheek, seeing her head start to loll into your shoulder.

"Do you wanna join them?" She asked, plainly. "You've been cooped up in here. You should come out, get some sunlight."

"Yeah," you said hesitantly, "I will do."

She took the baby from your arms, surprisingly able to keep her sleeping as she slowly tottered into the corridor. You immediately followed her, led by the soft patter of feet on the floor. As you went outside, the Sun berated down on you in an unexpected heat that prickled your skin. Just as the sudden change in temperature startled you, it quickly eased into a soothing, soaking feeling of warmth that made you take a deep breath. The smell of grass and fresh air halted you on the front door step, just getting a moment of peace and quiet. Only a moment, though.

"Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!" The kids yelled, forcing you to open your eyes and smile down at them as they swarmed at the end of the stone path. Esme had taken Sophie and sat on the garden table, head bent back as she enjoyed the sunlight.

"Can you come play with us?" Lee asked, just as George gave him a soft nudge in the ribs.

"We're not playing! We're racing." He said it proudly, puffing out his chest like the living imitation of his father.

"Racing?" You made an exaggerated tone of excitement that didn't quite match the tiredness you felt. "Where to?"

"The stream!" Katie giggled, obviously excited, as she pointed over to the far away line of grey.

"All the way there!" You shook your head. "Isn't that a little far?"

You looked over at the toddler Martha who, despite Louise's best efforts to distract her with the flowers, was determined to join in with the rest of her older brothers and sisters.

"It'll be fine." Esme yelled from where she sat, rocking the baby in her arms. "Martha can sit here with us two and help me call out the winner."

The little girl seemed enamoured with the idea, immediately waddling over to the table and allowing Louise to join in with all of her younger siblings. With a bit of help from her mum, Martha climbed and wiggled her way onto the seat, immediately standing up to pat at Sophie's bare head. Esme held an arm around her second youngest to keep her steady as she nodded over to the rest of you.

The kids all went into a line and you were dragged along with them as they bent their knees in ready position and each of them put on a comically serious expressions. There were a few squabbles about someone had got their toe over the imaginary line, or so and so was cheating, but you managed to keep them all pacified and ready.

"On your marks!" Esme began.

You felt a smile tugging at your lips that couldn't be bitten back or flattened out.

"Get set!"

Your heartbeat was thrumming with just as much excitement as the kids, taking a deep breath as you got ready for that final command.

"Go!"

Almost as soon as the first syllable had uttered, the lot of you broke out of the line and thundered forward. Being that bit older, you decided to go a little slower, but still bounded in the middle. Louise and Jack were right at the front, throwing their heads back and sticking their tongues out at each other as they tried to gain a definitive lead. Esme and Martha were whooping and cheering as the lot of you stumbled over the great field. You were laughing so hard between your breaths, slowing down and reaching out a hand so you and Lee would scurry after the rest of them, who had managed to fly ahead of you. You wold say that you let them, since you were that much older, and you wanted to make sure little Lee wasn't at the back all by himself. However, Esme could see your toothy, wide smile that probably caught as many flies as it did big, huge chuckles that made you pause and run that bit slower. She could see your cheeks glowing from something other than the exercise and warmth, your shining eyes growing soft and excitable as you tried to hurry Lee on to chase the rest of them. You were happy.