Imagine: Thomas falls asleep on you by the fireplace.
(A/N: TRIGGER WARNING, mentions of anxiety, PTSD and panic attacks.)
Thomas didn't seek out affection often, if at all, after returning home from the war. He was a changed man for the most part, only small glimpses of what once was surfacing on the rarest occasion. This was such an occasion.
The man had asked for you in a fit of fear, an episode of sorts. His pale blue eyes were wide and glassy, shifting anxiously across the features of your face as you entered the home. Polly took your coat and thanked you for coming before quickly leaving the kitchen.
"Thomas?" Your voice pulled the man from a trance like state and he looked up at you once more, lips parting slightly as he mouthed incoherent words. His trousers were moist with sweat, as was his brow, and he looked almost delirious.
"Thomas, Aunt Pol asked me to come." You approached him slowly, heart beating unevenly. "Are you having another - "
"Attack. Yes." Thomas quickly croaked, his throat barely allowing the words to escape. "Alright, okay," your tone shifted to a softer, deeper one that for whatever reason Thomas took comfort in. His lids lowered and he let you loop his arm over your shoulders.
Together, you walked through the home and to a back bedroom that you believed to be John's at the time. A simple double bed with a wardrobe, desk and a small fireplace in the far right corner. Thomas pulled away from you and headed towards the unlit pit and to your astonishment, sat down cross legged.
Seeing him in such a state both amused and distressed you. Without a word, you pulled a comforter from the bed and draped it over him. He was sweating, but cold to the touch.
"Just focus on your breathing, Thomas, like we practiced." He nodded and unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt, loosening the collar. "In through your nose," you clumsily sparked the fireplace and it came to life with an enthusiasm you appreciated, "out through your mouth."
The room was toasty warm in a few minutes and while Thomas was coherent enough to understand what you were saying, he didn't feel much like talking. He sat and watched the flames dance for a long time, and after growing weary of the same scene, you began watching the shadows across his face dance from the corner of your eye.
Even now, in this state, he was beautiful. His eyes were the first thing you noticed when you met him as a child, but over the years he went from a lanky, gap-toothed babe to a handsome, distinguished young man. His cheekbones were high and sharp, giving him an almost androgynous appearance, his face was defined no matter the complexion and his jaw was rather sharp. You began admiring his lips without even thinking when he spoke.
"I hope Aunt Pol didn't trouble you too much on my behalf." You blinked, coming back to the present. "I just.."
Your hand met his and you pulled him close, wrapping an arm around him affectionately. "You know I'd do anything for you, Tommy." You kissed his brow and felt his body relax. Thomas seemed to melt into your touch.
"It's different with you." You laughed out loud, knowing exactly where this was going. Thomas had expressed the unique relationship the two of you had and how he could find a peace with you that he couldn't find in the company of anyone else.
"My brothers, they mean well but they don't understand. They understand that we've all got our demons from darker days, but what they don't understand is that they're not all the same." Thomas explained, voice gravelly and low.
Slowly by slowly, his posture shifted until his head was across your lap, back to the hard wood floor. Uncomfortable, probably, but you'd mention that later. "Demons come in all shapes and sizes, I remember, Tommy."
He nodded, lips curling up in a soft smile. "Sometimes I forget you weren't there with us."
Your heart, which had been given a brief moment of rest, was now beating at a painful rate again. Your face dropped and so did Thomas's. The entire atmosphere changed.
"Sometimes I can't remember what's in the past. Sometimes I get confused." His eyes closed but a tear travelled down his cheek. You quickly wiped it away and began caressing his face gently as he continued to speak.
"I can't be one of those men," the gangster gritted his teeth, eyes opening so that more tears could fall. "I can't afford to lose myself, Y/N - I've got too many people depending on me." He watched you carefully, waiting for a response. "You've not lost yourself, Mister Shelby. You're right here," you took his hand in yours again and guided it closer to the fire, "with me."
Thomas was immediately distracted by the warmth and that was what you were counting on. His breath, that had become quick and shallow again, was slowing to a deep, consistent rhythm.
Your fingers laced together with his and you traced your free hand through his dark, thick hair. The sensations were grounding Thomas and you knew it, so you continued to poke, prod and massage. You wanted him to feel your hands, you wanted him to feel the fire, you wanted him to know he was at home, not serving as a Digger in the military again.
The door creaked open and John's face popped through the crack. He gnawed away at a toothpick and as his line of sight found you, he grinned from ear to ear. "I'm tellin' Aunt Pol." He snorted and you shushed him, motioning to his sleeping brother.
"Tellin' Aunt Pol what?" Arthur's voice yelled from the corridor, his head sticking through the door right above John's. You slapped a hand over your mouth the stifle a laugh at the ridiculous two when the woman herself emerged from the shadows, hands pulling the brothers from the room for a thrashing.
Thomas shifted and you immediately froze, afraid the commotion had woken him up. He was a very light sleeper and once he was up, he was up. Thankfully, he must have been drained, because he simply shifted his head to face the fire, fingers unconsciously squeezing yours.
You knew you'd have to get him from the floor to the bed somehow and that his back was going to dearly pay for it the following morning, but chose to appreciate Thomas in such a peaceful element.
You'd stay like this with him, for a little while longer.
