Work Text:
There is something strange about Thomas Shelby Alfie thinks when he meets the young gangster from Birmingham for the first time.
Tommy – quite a sweet name for a man like him as his reputation of being a ruthless killer proceeds him – is sitting in Alfie's office, bruised and bleeding onto Alfie's desk from his nose, looking so young, kind of innocent and vulnerable - and so fragile as if the next soft gust of air when the office door opens will blow him away.
He's pale like a ghost, almost ridiculously pretty with those high cheekbones and full pink lips and bottomless clear blue eyes, but there is a steeliness under Tommy Shelby's ethereal beauty that tells Alfie that he'll better not underestimate this man if he doesn't want to find himself on the wrong side of the gun barrel one day.
Tommy tells him without blinking that there's a bomb hidden somewhere in the building that will blow Alfie's entire bakery up, and the two of them together with it, if Alfie doesn't comply to Tommy's demands; and instead of being angry at the threat and impudence of the upstart, he feels fascinated and intrigued as he finds himself agreeing to Tommy's business proposals for a joined venture in the future.
There is something about Tommy that strikes a chord deep inside Alfie, his soul recognizing her even match and admiring Tommy's bravery and ruthlessness despite them actually being rivals and enemies most of the time.
Naturally, it doesn't stop Alfie from going behind Tommy's back at the next best opportunity though, of course it doesn't because that's just who and what Alfie Solomons is – and if only so to see how Tommy will adapt to seeing his plans and schemes ruined.
The young head of the Peaky Blinders doesn't disappoint Alfie and adjusts easily and quickly enough, much to his delight and satisfaction, and Alfie is way happier about it than he cares to admit to himself. They continue to do business and betray each other on a regular basis smoothly and easily, and the fascination and infatuation Alfie's feeling for Tommy never fades, even though Alfie was known for losing interest in his toys rather quickly in the past.
They fall into a nice pattern of threatening one another and then assuring each other again of their respective (false) loyalty, and Alfie can say for certain that he's finally found himself an even match and worthy opponent, which is much more satisfying than it has any right to be.
There is still something strange about Tommy, something odd he can't really grasp.
He's always so pale and fragile, slim and small under his tailored gray clothes, just like a wraith that will dissolve the moment you try to touch him, just to come back and haunt you at night.
Alfie never sees him eat anything like other people do, and the few times when they're meeting in a restaurant to add pleasure and nourishment to their business, Tommy is pushing the food on his plate around with his fork without ever lifting it to his tempting mouth. How the man is able to survive solely on whiskey and cigarettes is beyond Alfie – who's always had a healthy appetite and enjoys carnal pleasures because life is too short not to make the best out of it and live it to the fullest.
It's even more infuriating because Tommy Shelby never seems to get drunk, no matter how much alcohol he's downing without eating anything. It's no surprise that he's always so pale and ghostly-like looking, but Alfie tries not to think about it too much because it'll only serve to give him a headache.
The years go by, and Tommy clearly must be related to a cat with the literal nine lives - given how many times he's getting himself into deep trouble and yet always making it out of it again, alive and stronger than before.
Alfie watches Tommy lose his wife Grace and his younger brother John and eventually reappear from the depths of his agony looking paler and thinner than he already did before, the light fading from his blue eyes and the lips pressing into grim determined lines. But his determination only grows stronger, and Alfie feels a weird connection to him that he's never felt for anyone in his whole life before. They're so different, and yet so alike that it would be scary if Alfie were the man to get scared easily, which he isn't.
Thomas Shelby is a mystery, and Alfie wants to solve it at all costs – even if it means that his curiosity will kill him in the end. His unworldly beauty, the way he lives on whiskey and cigarettes only, the path of destruction he's chosen for himself and which yet never kills him, those glances out of impassive blue eyes he's giving Alfie, his unnerving silence, Alfie knows that he should let go of it and keep his distance from the other man, but he never does, not even after losing one of his eyes thanks to Tommy Shelby's last move against him.
This man seems to live in his blood, and no matter what he does, Alfie can't get rid of him.
***
It's years later after their first oh so fateful meeting in Alfie's office when Tommy comes to Margate one evening, barely holding himself upright, his arms clutched tightly around his midsection as if he were in greatest pain. He's snow-white and disheveled, a haunted look in his eyes Alfie's never seen on him before.
Alfie leans in the doorway with Cecil jumping beside him, blocking the way inside and looking down at Tommy with thoughtfully pursed lips. He should be annoyed about the late disturbance, but all he feels is curious instead. His own crumpled shirts and trousers are an even match for Tommy's appearance, just for once the man isn't looking like descended straight from a shiny magazine for the newest men clothes.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your late visit, Tommy?” he wants to know, and he's genuinely curious because it's been a long time since Tommy has found his way to Margate, disrupting Alfie's pleasant peace and quiet. Alfie had already resigned himself to the fact that he'd never see him again.
“Can I come in?” Tommy presses out after a moment instead of giving him a proper answer, trying to sound demanding, but the pleading undertone in his voice is not to miss.
“Well, why not, mate? I've nothing better to do anyway.” Alfie steps to the side to let Tommy pass him and enter the hallway. “Ella has two days off to see her sister, so you'll get the honor of me making tea for you personally.”
Tommy hrumpfs to that and shrugs out of his coat with edgy motions to hang it beside Alfie's jackets. He looks exhausted and ill, and Alfie wonders what happened and why Tommy turned to him of all people in his hour of need. Maybe things have fallen apart with his family for good this time.
He doesn't ask him this question though and only points at the kitchen door to make the younger man follow him into it.
Tommy sits down at the table and buries his face in his hands for several minutes while Alfie is making tea for him. Alfie busies himself with the familiar task of pouring hot water into the pot and putting cups and saucers onto the table to give Tommy some time to collect himself again. Whatever it is that brought him here, Alfie has learned to be patient around Tommy a long time ago without pressing the issue because this sure as hell will make Tommy Shelby run away again.
Ten minutes later they're sitting opposite each other at the kitchen table, Alfie sipping from the hot brew while Tommy simply stares into his cup with a strange expression on his face – just as if he'd be wondering how it got on the table in front of him. He looks somewhat disconnected from the world, and Alfie sighs as he realizes that he has to finally address the huge invisible elephant in the room – that has been there right from the beginning, but which neither of them ever dared to mention before.
“When was the last time you've eaten, Tommy?” he inquires, his tone serious and demanding an honest answer for once instead of the slightly maniac voice he's usually putting on when he seems to chatter about randomly and meaninglessly to distract his future prey from his next moves and lure them into false security.
Which admittedly has never worked with Tommy because the man always seemed to see right through him.
Tommy blinks and looks up at him, startled by the change of Alfie's usual attitude he's become familiar with and obviously used to draw his sense of safety and comfort out of in the past.
“What?” Tommy murmurs, and Alfie can see the thoughts racing behind his forehead. “I had breakfast,” he then says after a moment or so, and Alfie snorts, finally fed up with all the nonsense.
“Yeah, I'm sure. Coffee and whiskey and cigarettes as usual. Probably just whiskey and cigarettes, without the coffee. But that's not what I meant, and you know that, Thomas Shelby.”
Alfie never calls him Thomas, and never by his birth and surname together, so Tommy must realize that he's deadly serious about it. “ You know quite well what I mean, but I can spell it out for you if you'll need me to, mate.”
Alfie puts his cup back on the saucer and hauls himself up to round the table and stand next to Tommy's chair. Tommy blinks slowly, probably because he didn't put his glasses on, his throat working visibly when he swallows. There's a hint of red in his blue eyes, making them gleam violet in the light of the kitchen lamp, and Alfie smiles under his beard.
“Yeah, thought so, mate. So how long have you gone without?”
Tommy has to crane his neck up, but he doesn't look away, now that the truth is out.
“How did you know?” is all he wants to know, and Alfie shrugs.
“Took me some time, Tommy. You're walking in the daylight just fine, although you seem to be more comfortable when it's dark. It's subtle, only visible when you know where to look at, but after some time, I got it.”
This makes Tommy snort softly. “You're one of those thinking that my kind can only live in the darkness? That's bullshit from the books to make us be the evil creatures of children's nightmares.”
“Perhaps,” Alfie agrees. “Well, your distaste for food was another indication that you're not what you seemed to be – aside from your usual skin color. You hide it well, though. I don't think that a lot of people are aware of it. Does your family know?”
Tommy looks down at his untouched tea. “No, they don't, none of them. Grace did. She was... like me.”
“I'd figured.” Alfie puts his hand on Tommy's shoulder to squeeze it in sympathy for a moment. “Silver bullet, huh?”
Tommy just nods silently.
The bullet that was actually meant for Tommy, so some people must know about his true nature at least, but that's a question for another day – or night.
“Who turned you?” Alfie asks him to follow another line of thought instead, curious despite himself. It's really none of his business, but Tommy Shelby has always been a mystery he's intent to solve no matter what, has been intent already to solve since Tommy bled onto his desk on that morning so long gone.
“France. In the tunnels.” Tommy doesn't say more, and Alfie knows when to stop. France is a deep wound in both of their hearts, and some things really shouldn't be said out loud.
“I see,” he says instead, “so back to my question: when was the last time you've eaten, Tommy?”
Tommy's gaze flickers back up at his face. “Why, are you offering? Because if you do, let me tell you that you don't know what you're doing.”
“Perhaps. But this is exactly what you came here for, Tommy, isn't it? Because you didn't know where else to go and you knew that I was the safest option. It must have been so hard to keep your need to feed – your true nature – a secret from your family for so long, especially after losing your mate and not being able to tell your family that your grief went so much deeper than 'just' losing your wife. For a vampire,” Alfie finally says it out loud, “losing their mate is like losing half of their soul. I really thought you wouldn't make it after Grace's death, finally lose your sanity for good, but somehow you did come out and keep your mind intact, well mostly at least, and you went on and found ways to meet your needs without your family knowing about it. What changed that I've found you on my doorstep tonight, almost starved to death and willing to put your fate in my hands?”
Tommy swallows, his pale blue eyes – now of a deep violet color – drawn to the small spot of skin that is visible between Alfie's beard and the collar of his rumpled shirt.
“I am tired, Alfie,” he whispers, “tired and so... hungry.”
Of course he is. Otherwise he wouldn't have come to Alfie tonight. Tommy's admission doesn't explain anything, but the way he emphasizes the word 'hungry' indicates that he didn't just mean his hunger for blood with it.
“You are, aren't you?” Alfie pulls his shirt out of his trousers, the suspenders already hanging down loosely like always, and Tommy unconsciously licks his lips as he watches Alfie strip the white garment.
“Blood is a bitch to remove from white shirts,” he says casually, “got some experience with it over the time.”
Tommy doesn't respond, his sole focus fixed on the strong curve of Alfie's neck. “Ah no, mate, that's quite intimate for a first time, innit? Can you feed from my wrist?”
A small whine flees Tommy's lips, disappointment flickering over his worn features, but he nods his head reluctantly, obviously sensing that this is all Alfie is willing to give him, at least for now.
“Difficult, but yeah, doable,” he mumbles, and Alfie reaches out to offer him his bare forearm.
“Here you go, mate,” he says almost gently, and Tommy grabs his arm with both hands to pull it to his mouth. Alfie can see his face shift to the vampiric self he always hides so carefully from the world, and he's terrific in his alien and dangerous beauty, still the Tommy Alfie has come to know so well that he would recognize him in complete darkness just by his scent and mapping his face with his fingers, and yet entirely different with his violet eyes, sharp fangs and distorted vampire features.
“You might want to sit down for that, Alfie,” Tommy rasps out, hungry and needy, his voice soft and resonating alien-like.
“Nah, I'm good, thank you.”
Tommy looks doubtful but he doesn't object, his hunger too strong to resist Alfie's offer for just a second longer. His nails, longer and sharper as well now, dig painfully into Alfie's hand and forearm to keep him from drawing back – not that Alfie has any intention to do so – but he understands that Tommy is afraid that he's being played with and therefore is a bit harsher than necessary.
The first bite stings pretty much, and he flinches under the sharp teeth breaking the delicate skin on his wrist so mercilessly and greedily. Tommy makes an apologetic sound, still coherent enough to realize Alfie's discomfort and feeling sorry for it. He licks over the broken skin in a wordless apology, and the pain vanishes quickly, replaced by a tingling sensation that is just as intense as the pain was, but much more pleasant actually.
He looks down at Tommy's ruffled head bent over his wrist as his blood is sucked out of him in large gulps by Tommy's full pink lips, now stained deep red, and it is oddly satisfying to feel his life flow out of him and right into Tommy. Their already strong bond is getting stronger the weaker he's becoming by the blood loss, flaring to life in all its beauty and dangerous allure and drawing Alfie to Tommy like a moth is drawn to the flame that will burn it.
Gulp after gulp, sip after sip, blood and life flowing between him and Tommy, his free hand on Tommy's hair where he's pressing the younger man's head firmly against his bleeding wrist so Tommy will take from him what he needs, and Alfie can feel his trousers getting tighter.
This.
This is what Alfie has been waiting for all those years, and he finds himself panting when he finally tears his bloody wrist away from Tommy's mouth and sharp teeth to stare down at the mess of torn flesh and veins and skin. Vampire salvia obviously has a healing effect though, because the flesh and veins and skin knit themselves together within seconds again, leaving only flocks of red blood painted across his arm and hand.
Tommy is panting too as he looks up at him with red eyes and heaving nostrils, his pupils blown wide with a hunger and need that has nothing to do with blood any longer. They stare at each other, and then Tommy is on his feet and right in Alfie's face, kissing him desperately with his fangs still out and Alfie cutting his tongue on them. Tommy's hissing and struggling, trying to push him down so he can have his way with Alfie, his mind set solely on satisfying the need burning in his groin – now that the hunger thrumming in his veins is finally sated.
Alfie lets him control their kiss for a moment before he takes hold of Tommy's balled fists to push him away from him and look him in the eyes.
“I let you feed on me, Tommy, I believe it's my turn now. Wanted you for a long time, so I'll get to enjoy you now, mate. To my conditions.”
Tommy hisses again, mouth twisted into a fierce grimace of want and anger, his lips swollen and red with Alfie's blood in his still ghostly white face. Which simply seems to be Tommy's skin color regardless of his state of starvation.
Vampires possess inhuman strength, especially when they're freshly fed, but Alfie thinks that he can still easily overpower Tommy Shelby, and if that's not working just make use of his commanding voice because deep down in his soul, Tommy wants to be dominated and wrestled into submission, that much Alfie knows for sure.
“Bed, Tommy. Now!” he says, and Tommy blinks and stops fighting against him, following him willingly upstairs to Alfie's bedroom like a puppet pulled on a string.
***
Alfie knew that his patience would be rewarded some day.
He also knew that Tommy would look glorious in his bed beneath him, his pale ass raised in the cool and dark air as Alfie fucks into him from behind.
Forgotten is his bad knee and his constant backache as he pounds into Tommy, all the pent up tension he's been keeping for the other man seeking a valve as it's finally let loose and Alfie can gorge himself in Tommy's freely given submission.
Tommy's head is thrown back in the heat of passion, and Alfie can tell that he's close by the way he's clenching around Alfie's cock. He's the most beautiful picture of utter surrender, his hands clutching at the crumpled sheets and his back bent so beautifully for him, and Alfie runs his hand all over Tommy's pale back, over the scars the war and Tommy's various encounters with death have left there. He pulls his ass cheeks apart to thrust deeper, and Tommy rewards him with a howl of pure need, his slim body shaking with his approaching orgasm. Alfie probably wouldn't even need to touch him on his pretty dick, so hard and weeping for attention, but he does so nonetheless because he wants it all after the long wait, wants to feel Tommy come undone beneath him and hear him call out his name when he comes from his hand and his cock.
He's heavy in Alfie's hand, throbbing and slick, so warm and alive, and Alfie strokes up and down on his hard shaft with his calloused and ringed fingers until Tommy howls again, spurting his release all over the sheets and Alfie's meaty hand. It's so satisfying, even better than coming inside Tommy's body will surely be later.
For now he's happy enjoying Tommy's high and the sounds he's making, and the thrill knowing that it's his blood flowing through Tommy's veins is sending through him. He strokes and fucks him through his climax until Tommy's dropping down onto the mattress right on the mess he's made, unable to keep himself upright any longer.
Alfie pulls out to turn him onto his back and slide back inside the heavenly tight heat of Tommy's body. He balances his weight on his forearms as he waits for Tommy to open his eyes, and when the other man does to look up at him and sees the change in Alfie's face, he gasps out when he realizes the truth, still dazed and groggy from his intense satisfaction.
Alfie smiles under his beard and bends down, pointed teeth grazing teasingly over Tommy's sweaty throat, right where his pulse is racing beneath delicate white skin.
“France too?” Tommy inquires, and Alfie nods his head, sensing that he doesn't need to say more. Their paths have always been so alike, so similar, it was probably inevitable that they would meet one day. Fate is a funny thing, but Alfie doesn't complain about it this time.
“Didn't think you'd admit it so soon, Alfie, Wasn't even sure that I was right about you at times, but when have you ever met someone else's expectations, so I shouldn't be too surprised that you did so willingly,” Tommy now murmurs with a huff that is half a laugh and half a sigh, and Alfie chuckles softly against his neck.
“Well, that's why you came here tonight, isn't it, Tommy? Because you were finally ready for the truth and accept it. I've been waiting for you to make up your mind since you sat in my office, bleeding onto my desk, and I must say that it was worth the wait because forcing you was never an option. But I have to say that I'd started to lose hope at last.”
“Well, I'm here now, ain't I?” Tommy wraps his arms around Alfie's back and his legs around Alfie's hips, baring his throat to the older vampire invintingly.
“You are. In my arms and my bed, right where you've belonged all along.”
Then, they don't talk again for a long time when Alfie bites down to taste Tommy and let his blood flow back into his own body.
Blood for blood, so delicious and satisfying.
It won't sustain either of them for too long because what they both crave to keep themselves fed and nourished is human blood, fresh and warm and utterly delicious, but this here is not about the hunger for blood anyway, not any longer.
It's the hunger for something more, something deeper, something they've both been craving for a long time.
Alfie since Tommy walked into his office for the first time, so proud and unafraid and determined, and Tommy at least since he came back from his grief for his fallen mate, his blond angel Grace.
They're both gangsters, kings of the night and the underworld, and neither of them is made for angels, not in the long run. Alfie always knew that Tommy needed to figure that out on his own though, no matter how much it hurt to see them together and then having to watch Tommy grieve, so Alfie waited, knowing that one day, or rather one night, Tommy would come to him, when he'd finally be ready to move on and have another mate.
His true mate, bonded by blood and through everything they are, because vampires are not meant to be alone and without a mate.
Tommy's blood is sweet, tasting only faintly of the whiskey he more inhales than actually drinks, and it's full of promises. It sates Alfie more than anything else has ever done, and he starts to move again and thrust into Tommy's willing body as he drinks his fill until Tommy hisses and pushes against him because it's getting too much.
“Sorry, mate,” he apologizes and kisses him, letting Tommy taste himself like he did earlier when they kissed for the first time. “We'll have to properly feed you tomorrow night, I guess. Will be fun to share with you eventually.”
“You've never come across like someone happy to share easily, Alfie Solomons,” Tommy teases him, his voice a bit slurred from the blood loss, but also light and happy – if Tommy can actually feel something like happiness at all – and Alfie cards his big hand through his tousled hair and kisses him again.
“I usually don't. But I'll make an exception for you, mate,” he says just as lightly, and Tommy looks up at him. He's pliant in Alfie's arms, letting the older vampire chase his own satisfaction and moving together with him eagerly despite his exhaustion.
“Is that what we are now, Alfie? Mates?” he wants to know, uncertainty and hope bleeding through his neutral tone, and Alfie kisses him again, just because he can and wants to kiss Tommy as often as possible to make up for the lost time in one night if possible.
“I've been calling you mate the whole time, Tommy Shelby. Do you really have to ask that? Sure we are.”
“So no more lies and deception?” Tommy's eyes are dark in the gloomy light of the bedroom, but Alfie can see the emotions hidden behind the impassive mask clearly with his heightened senses. Tommy has always dealt well with Alfie's schemes and all the betrayal he's suffered from everyone, but he needs at least one person in his life he's sure that they'll never betray him.
Even his precious Grace did, betraying Tommy right from the start when they first met, just like Alfie did, too. But she changed for Tommy, became his mate when she got a second chance with him, and if she could, then Alfie can do the same for Tommy and stop going behind his back as well.
Exchanging blood can do that to people, vampires or not.
“Wouldn't want to lose you, now that I've finally got you, Tommy Shelby. Although keeping you around and from doing stupid things to yourself all the time will be a bit of a challenge, but I'll do my best, I promise you,” he says grudgingly, his voice gruff but sincere, and Tommy's pink lips curl into a smile now when he hears the honesty in Alfie's words, which is all that matters.
“I don't doubt that, Alfie. So blood for blood, true mates, then,” Tommy whispers, pulling his head down, and when Alfie finally comes and loses himself in the throes of passion, held tightly in the arms of his mate, one Thomas Shelby, king of Birmingham and the Peaky Blinders, everything falls into place eventually and he can see the future ahead of them, bright and promising.
A future spent together with Tommy by his side, for which Alfie is utterly grateful - because no matter how difficult living with Tommy and keeping him from destroying himself will be – but eternity is such a lonely and scary place when you have to face it all alone. Here in Tommy's arms with the ocean breeze blowing through the window and the sound of the waves being a soothing background noise, Alfie has found his true home at last, and eternity looks far less scary and lonely than it was just still looking yesterday all of a sudden.