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stellewriites · 3 months ago

Text

PART ONE

summary: by chance you and your emotionally unavailable husband meet a friendly couple that invite you stay at their farmhouse in scotland. however the time spent there with johnny & kyle has you questioning if there's a dark side to them you didn't see before.

a speak no evil au - masterlist

notes: manipulative johnny & kyle, piv, noncon, somno, never explicitly acknowledged abusive relationship between reader and her husband (financial, physical, emotional, coercive control), drinking, murder, it's dead dove horror people!! heed the warnings

you picked at the buttery croissant on the plate in front of you, trying your best to block out the sound of your husband’s voice as it grew more frustrated by the minute. you pitied the poor soul he was berating on the other end of the line, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel bad enough to try and stop him, to turn his ire against you instead.

he wouldn’t listen to you anyway, hadn’t the first few times you’d asked when you’d first arrived on your honeymoon.

you scoffed quietly and shoved a bite into your mouth, chewing obstinately. two years late, but sure. your honeymoon.

elliot sighed heavily, and threw his phone down onto the table, rattling your coffee and gaining the attention of nearby hotel staff. “i work with fucking idiots, christ. how hard is it to follow instructions?”

“it’s why they keep you around, smartest one on your team,” you said appeasingly, the same rote answer you always gave him when he got in his moods.

“smartest one at the whole fucking firm more like,” he scoffed. you cringed at the scornful looks sent your way from the other couples on the retreat. “useless. the lot of them.”

the french riviera had been a dream destination for you for years, one elliot had known about from early in your dating days. the holiday he’d booked was all inclusive; tailored to honeymooners specifically with romantic activities on and off site and transport easily accessible in order to explore the area.

you felt as though you should’ve been having the time of your life as you sat eating breakfast looking over the beautiful beach view, but you’d never felt emptier. the sight of happy couples around you day after day had only highlighted your husband’s distance.

elliot had promised this trip would change things for you both, for your relationship, but the last six days had proven the opposite. if he wasn’t busy and distracted on his phone, elliot was complaining about the quality of the food, the amenities, even the bloody people.

it was too much and just the morning before you’d been tempted to ask him to cut the fortnight away short when he’d gotten an urgent email and then a frantic call from his boss.

you’d sighed in relief when he’d left you to wander the local area by yourself for the day; happy to escape his negativity for an hour even as you felt guilty for thinking so. you knew he worked hard, you knew his job was important, and his work meant you could afford your luxury apartment in London and be able to take trips like this one without stressing over the cost.

you’d taken the time to go to the market you’d read about on the plane, the place des lices, and tried every free sample of cheese that had been waved your way once you’d gotten there. but you hadn’t been the only one from your hotel to take advantage of the famous food stalls as you recognised the deep scottish brogue of one half of the couple that were staying in the room next to yours; it rose even above the busy hum of french chatter easily.

you’d turned your head and smiled when you caught his pretty husband’s eyes before turning back to the stall merchant and buying a chunk of fresh camembert for elliot to try. you’d been eyeing up the fruit stall further down and were debating the brie too if you spotted some good cranberry jam.

“you’re from the hotel, right?” you suddenly heard from your left. you turned to find the couple a lot closer than before, apparently taking your polite smile as invitation to join you. “i’ve seen you at the pool before. I’m kyle, this is my husband, johnny.”

“nice t’meet ye.”

you’d introduced yourself and shook their hands once your cheese was carefully packed into your tote bag.

“where’s yer chatty husband?” johnny asked, eyes scanning the crowd.

you flushed, a creeping sense of embarrassment rising as you thought of elliot back at the hotel shooing you off before you’d even sat for breakfast.

“oh he had some emergency at work he had to deal with,” you excused. “didn’t need me hanging around distracting him, so i went for a walk.”

“you’re on your own?” kyle asked with a concerned frown.

“yeah, but i don’t mind. i travelled alone a lot before we were together. i’m used to my own company,” you said with a soft laugh.

the pair swapped a silent look before focusing back on you. “well, we’d be happy to have ye if you’re feeling lonely, bonnie,” johnny offered. “we were thinkin’ of goin’ wine tasting after this now that we’ve got our snacks, if you’d like to join.”

you chuckled as johnny raised their bag and wiggled his eyebrows.

“i wouldn’t want to intrude.” you shook your head.

“it beats heading back to the hotel,” kyle cajoled. “unless you had other plans?”

you pursed your lips before letting a small, shy smile grow. “ok. wine tasting sounds fun.”

you had spent the afternoon laughing and eating the cheese, bread and fruits you’d bought at the market over glasses of wine with johnny and kyle, a wide smile never leaving your lips even as the three of you stumbled back up the steps to the hotel.

your phone had stayed silent the entire day and it wasn’t until you were waving goodbye to your new friends and opening the door to your hotel room that you wondered if elliot would be annoyed at you for staying out so long without contacting him.

you smiled a little shakily as you caught him leaving the bathroom with a towel slung around his hips. “good day?”

“fixed their mess if that’s what you mean,” elliot huffed, but he turned to you with a satisfied smile and nodded. he dipped his head down and kissed you sweetly. “what about you? good day?”

“mhm,” you hummed, your smile settling more firmly on your face at his easy mood. “i went wine tasting.”

“oh?” elliot grinned, looking at you a little closer and taking in the signs of your slight inebriation, the way you swayed slightly on your feet and the almost sleepy glaze over your eyes.

“met a few new friends,” you said. “johnny and kyle.”

elliot stiffened for a moment before smiling again, less genuine and with a sharper edge this time. “oh? that’s nice. i’ll be free to spend the day doing whatever you’d like tomorrow, darling. no need for friends on our honeymoon.”

“you will?” you asked as you started to undress, surprised he wasn’t asking for an extra day to check everything with work had settled. you didn’t look the gift horse in the mouth however. “there’s a great market i saw today we could go to. i wouldn’t mind going twice, the cheese is amazing—“

“sure, sure. fine. let’s just sleep now, yeah? i’m exhausted after today,” elliot interrupted as he dried himself off before climbing into bed.

“of course, yeah. we can figure it out over breakfast.”

which brought you back to now, with your croissant and your husband and your beach view and the ever growing pit of disappointment.

you skimmed your eyes over the other couples sat on the veranda with you and felt jealousy bubble and spit in your stomach. it was the small things you longed for, the easy affection you craved; legs hooked together under the table, feeding each other, shy smiles shared behind mugs, little jokes whispered on the breeze.

you felt tears prickle at your eyes unexpectedly and wiped at them hastily before elliot could notice.

“bonnie?” your head whipped up at the familiar voice and you smiled automatically at johnny and kyle as they made their way over. johnny was in a pair of shorts, and you saw a knee brace peek out from the hem.

“mind if we join you?” kyle asked, already pulling out a chair at your eager nod, ignoring the deep frown on elliot’s face.

“and you are?” elliot asked rudely, looking between the two men.

“this is johnny and kyle, the couple i told you about last night.” you laid a gentle hand on elliot’s forearm.

“oh, the wine tasters. right.”

“heard you were busy saving yer boss’ arse yesterday,” johnny said with a pinched smile. “yer bonnie wife didnae mention what ye did though?”

“i work for a powerful man looking after his money,” elliot explained vaguely, with an air of condescension.

you noticed kyle wave over a waitress and quietly order for both him and johnny, his palm settled firmly on johnny’s thigh beneath the table.

“oh aye? tha’s a lotta responsibility then. no wonder yer always looking so stressed on yer phone,” johnny laughed.

“oi, be nice, john,” kyle scolded, but the smile teasing the corner of his lips took away any bite the reprimand held.

“sorry, uh, emmet, was it?”

“elliot,” you corrected quickly.

johnny snapped his fingers and nodded. “right, right. sorry, my memory’s not what it used to be.” he waved at a rough scar at the side of his head.

“so how long have you two been together?” kyle asked as their drinks arrived. you saw elliot sniff at the vast amount of sugar kyle poured into his tea.

“five years,” you answered at the same time elliot answered, four years. you turned to him with a frown. “we’ve been married for two. we met before your promotion, remember?”

“are you sure, darling?” elliot asked.

“yes, elliot. i’m sure.”

kyle and johnny watched silently, eyebrows raised until you turned back to your croissant with a tense jaw.

“time flies ‘n all that,” johnny said, hoping to ease your tension.

“right.” you nodded. “what about you guys? been together long?”

“been stuck with him for a decade now,” kyle huffed, patting his hand on johnny’s leg.

“been blessed by me, more like, cheeky sod,” johnny muttered.

you laughed as kyle leant in to kiss his cheek obnoxiously. “met in the forces, just clicked.”

“been together ever since i caught him starin’ in the showers,” johnny boasted with a grin.

elliot shifted uncomfortably in his chair and johnny’s grin dropped minisculely and his eyes hardened.

“what’re yer plans today then, bonnie?”

“oh, uhm, we’re not quite sure yet,” you said looking to elliot. “maybe the market since elliot missed it yesterday?”

“you should join us on our cruise along the coast,” kyle said. “just us and the captain, and a fair bit of booze; views are meant to be unmissable.”

“sounds better than a market,” elliot chuffed before shrugging. “sure, why not?”

“really?” you were more than surprised elliot was willingly agreeing to spend more time with kyle and johnny given how on edge he’d been just sat with them the last ten minutes.

“what d’ye say, bon?” johnny leant over the small table with a smile, taking up enough space for you to feel surprisingly cornered.

“pretty hard to say no to ‘unmissable’,” you said and forced a laugh.

“great,” kyle said and johnny slumped back into his seat, throwing an arm around the back of kyle chair. “we’ve got an hour before we’re meant to be there so eat up, love.”

elliot bristled at their familiarity with you and wrapped his own arm around the back of your chair, his hand curling around your shoulder and squeezing just a tad too tight. “she’s already eaten.”

“what, that little pastry?” johnny laughed. “you’ll need yer energy for what we’ve got planned, hen.” johnny winked.

you felt yourself flush involuntarily, your heart thumped and your eyes widened at the accidental insinuation and you knew elliot had heard it the same way going by the agitated tap of his leg beneath the table.

“i’ll probably just have another coffee,” you said placating, and smiled thinly when elliot kissed your temple. “i can grab something for on the boat or afterwards maybe.”

“that’s my girl,” elliot spoke into your hair.

---

while kyle and johnny finished up their breakfast, you nipped back into your room to change into your swimwear underneath your dress and met them along with elliot at the steps leading down to the beach.

once you’d left the dock and were deep enough in the water that it became a mesmerising dark blue, it didn’t take much convincing to have you jump in the water with johnny as the boat idled in place. elliot had waved you off with a dismissive glance at his phone when you asked if he’d join and kyle had promised to have the towels ready when you’d both ran out of energy.

“not joining them?” elliot asked, sparing a quick glance at kyle as he sat down next to your husband.

“figured i’d keep you company ‘til johnny climbs back on board. we’re temporary neighbours after all, yeah?” kyle said. he looked over the side of the boat and shook his head at his husband splashing you despite your giggly squeals of outrage. “married for two years?” he asked out of the blue and waited for elliot to hum his agreement. “what you doing on a honeymoon trip then, if you don’t mind me asking?”

elliot sighed frustratedly as he locked his phone and put it down beside him, knowing he was going to get nothing done with kyle yammering by his side. “we’re busy people, only just found the time together to go.”

kyle raised his eyebrows in shock. “busy indeed.” he looked to elliot’s phone. “got any photos of the wedding?”

elliot nodded once, and not enthusiastically enough for kyle’s liking, as he pulled up the photo folder you’d made on his phone titled ‘happily ever after 🩷’ before handing it to kyle to flip through.

the younger man whistled lowly, eyes glued to the screen as he pinched and moved the photos to zoom in. elliot noticed how he paused on the photos of you, but flicked through the others quickly, not bothering to stop quick enough to take in your bridesmaids’ dresses or the expensive tiered cake or elliot’s flash suit.

he snatched his phone back when kyle licked his lips at a photo of you dancing with your friends.

“lovely gown,” kyle said with a smirk as he watched elliot seethe. “you really got lucky, eh? punching up like that.”

elliot’s eyes squinted in a glare. “excuse me?”

“come on, mate. you can be honest, it’s why you worry about the job, right? you want to keep that going for you so she doesn’t leave you in the dust,” kyle continued to goad him.

“it’s not me that needs to worry about being left behind,” elliot spat. he rubbed his hand over his mouth and jaw to hide his burgeoning smug look, but kyle saw it in his eyes, the self-satisfaction. “i’ve got options. plenty at that.”

kyle stared at him with a blank face. “oh yeah?”

elliot laughed meanly and dropped his hand. “oh yeah.” he tapped his phone against his palm for a moment, seemingly debating something before freezing as he heard you and johnny climb the short ladder back up to the deck, laughing all the while.

“done in already?” kyle asked, his mood already lighter.

“johnny’s knee is aching, thought he could rest it and we’d get a quick drink,” you answered with a wide smile, reaching for one of the beers stored in the boats built-in cooler and handing one to johnny.

“bonnie was jus’ telling me how she used to live in a much smaller area when she was younger,” johnny said as you both sat down opposite to your partners. “but you live in london now?”

“what is it with you two? always asking bloody questions,” elliot complained, hiding his unease behind a laugh.

“just making conversation, mate,” kyle said tersely.

you felt the air grow awkward and jumped in before your husband could make it worse.

“we moved to london for elliot’s work,” you said.

“and you like it?” kyle’s inquisitive, dark eyes had you willing to be more truthful than you would usually be, especially with near strangers.

“i have to admit… i’d always thought we’d be somewhere further from the city; its what i’d always wanted and elliot said he’d liked the idea of somewhere quieter. we met in my home town after all.” you caught elliot’s scornful eye and ducked your head. “but it just didn’t go that way in the end. and london is lovely, the apartment is— lovely.”

“you ever been to scotland?” johnny asked. “the countryside is like nothin’ you’ve ever seen up there.”

kyle nodded. “we’ve lived on the edge of falkland for a few years now; feels like the middle of nowhere sometimes. doesn’t get much better, i haven’t missed the city for years.”

“one of the best decisions we ever made,” johnny agreed, leaning over to kiss gaz softly.

you sighed wistfully.

“don’t think the hills would agree with my dear wife, but maybe we’ll take a trip up there some time,” elliot said unconvincingly. you swallowed thickly at his thinly veiled dig.

“when you’re not so busy, yeah?” kyle said staring your husband down.

elliot’s lips thinned. “yeah.”

“so how’re you finding france so far?” johnny asked. “enjoying yer stay?”

elliot sniffed. “could be better. from how this one went on about the place i was expecting a hell of a lot more,” he said snidely, gesturing to you flippantly. “i’d have picked bali personally.”

your shoulders hunched even as you felt indignation and anger burn the back of your throat. it wasn’t your fault elliot wasn’t taking advantage of the holiday, the lush area and the activities that promised to be unforgettable if given the chance. you knew you’d remember going in the sea with johnny for years to come, but you doubted you’d remember the boring dinners you’d been having with elliot in a month’s time, or at least not so fondly.

“think i’d have put the trip off for longer if i knew what this place was going to be like,” elliot laughed. “in fact—“

“why don’t you shut the fuck up fer once and let yer pretty wife speak, eh?” johnny cut him off with a sarcastic smile.

elliot was shocked into silence and you found yourself stuttering as kyle and johnny focused on you.

“what do you do when you’re not on a late honeymoon, love?” kyle asked.

“uhm, i don’t actually work currently,” you admitted sheepishly, your eyes darted to your husband as he grew redder in the face. “elliot makes enough to cover us financially and finding something in london was harder than expected after i had to suddenly quit my previous job when we moved.”

kyle and johnny cooed sympathetically.

“i’ve picked up painting recently though, which has been different. not necessarily any good at it, but i like it,” you said.

“an artist? yer after my heart, hen. i sketch a little myself,” johnny said. “now ye’ll have to come visit us just so you can paint the views.”

kyle was quick to pull out his phone to share some photos. he stopped on one of johnny on the top of a steep, grassy hill; his arms thrown up the air, backpack on the ground next to him and a wide grin stretched across his face, his mohawk a little longer than it was now and a mess in the wind.

“wow, it’s gorgeous there,” you gushed, trying not to focus on johnny’s strong stance highlighted by the rising sun behind him.

“that’s the view just behind our house,” kyle grinned. “forty minute hike to get there, at most.”

you gawped. “no way.”

johnny nodded.

“think you’re maybe overestimating her painting skills there, boys,” elliot snickered as he looked at the photo. “if you saw what she’s done so far you’d realise it’s definitely just a new hobby.”

“show us,” kyle suggested kindly, not bothering to look at elliot.

you hesitated before reaching for your bag and pulling out your phone. you handed it over with a shy smile.

“oi, these are good, bonnie,” johnny said immediately, stood looking over kyle’s shoulder. his brow was pulled into a frown as he concentrated.

“i’d buy ‘em,” kyle added, looking up at you to smile.

“ha! right, yeah,” you laughed, thinking he was teasing. you put down your beer and took your phone back, dropping it into your bag. you leant in to kiss elliot’s cheek and stood. “who’s going to join me in the water? elliot?”

“i don’t think so, darling. maybe another time,” he said.

“i will.” kyle stood. “did johnny show you how to dive off the front?”

your eyes widened in excitement as you shook your head and followed him, waving at the captain sat at the helm of the small boat as you passed.

johnny watched the pair of you go before turning to glare at elliot silently, not breaking eye contact even as your husband frowned and shifted uneasily, eventually looking down at his phone to avoid johnny’s unwavering, cold gaze.

---

“i don’t like them,” elliot said once you were back in your hotel that evening.

“who? johnny and kyle?”

“who else?” elliot scoffed. “they’re too familiar with you, they— they fawn over you. flirt relentlessly, in front of me—“

“oh come on,” you laughed, unable to stop yourself even as elliot grew angrier at your casual dismissal. “they’re married, don’t be bloody daft.”

“don’t call me stupid.” elliot warned.

“i’m not, i just—“

“whether they’re actually interested in you or not isn’t the point,” elliot seethed. “they’re doing it to wind me up. to get away with humiliating me and you encourage them.”

“i— what? we were just having fun,” you said.

“oh i know, i saw how you clung to them in the water when you thought i wasn’t looking. fucking slut.”

you gaped at elliot, taken aback by his harsh words and sharp tone. you took in a deep breath and tried to level your own voice.

“they’re just friendly.” you bit your cheek. “if anything, you’re just jealous i’m getting more attention than you for once.”

“what was that?” elliot whipped around to face you and you felt your blood run cold even before he took a step towards you. he gripped you roughly by the back of your neck and tugged you forward so his lips rested at your temple and you followed limply, keeping your hands by your sides. “you better not play up tomorrow, darling. whatever they offer, we’re busy. this our honeymoon, not a fucking jolly for you to try and meet other men.”

you seethed in his hold, furious at his accusations and the irony of his ill-placed jealousy. but all the same you nodded gently. “ok, elliot.”

“good.” he kissed your round cheek with a loud, sarcastic smack before turning towards the bathroom. he shed his clothes as he walked, leaving them in a trail you knew he expected you to pick up and closed the door behind him, leaving you stood motionless in the centre of the hotel room.

---

you dodged johnny’s bright grin and kyle’s sweet invites to hang out over the last week of your holiday with a pained grimace.

after the first few mornings of suddenly stilted conversation over breakfast, they stopped joining you and elliot and you were happy they were able to continue enjoying their honeymoon even if you weren’t.

elliot didn’t say in so many words, but he didn’t trust you not to gallivant off if left alone like before, so you were stuck waiting in the admittedly lavish hotel room on the days elliot got pulled back into work over the phone and on his laptop. too important to leave until later, he’d said. but he’d promised each time to take you out for a dinner that had continued to be forgotten about.

with only a few days left you were stuck waiting by the road, the little moped you’d rented for the day parked and so far unused while elliot nipped back up to the hotel to grab his sunglasses. it’d been twenty minutes already and part of you wondered if he’d gotten lost. you wished he’d left the keys with you instead of pocketing them so you could keep yourself entertained with a quick ride around the block, get used to the feel of the bike before joining onto the main road.

a squeaky horn, two beeps in quick succession, had you flinching from your moody thoughts and looking up as kyle and johnny pulled to a stop in front of you.

“long time no see, love,” kyle said. he nodded down at the bike with a grin. “where you off to?”

“and can we join?” johnny asked with a waggle of his eyebrows.

you snorted. “nowhere. not until elliot comes back at least.” you shrugged. “he’s got the keys,” you explained.

“how about we take you for a quick ride then,” johnny offered and kyle immediately started getting off from behind him.

“no, no i couldn’t. thank you. elliot will be back any second, im sure,” you said quickly, worried elliot would grow mad if he saw you sat behind johnny on the bike.

“ok, love,” kyle placated. “how about we swap numbers then, in case we don’t get to see you before your trip is up? i want to see more of your paintings.”

“we’re off home in about two days or so, figured yours would be about the same,” johnny said.

“what about email?” you suggested instead. your couples therapist had suggested regularly reading each others texts to try and gain back trust between the pair of you. the irony that it was now you trying to hide a conversation in your phone wasn’t lost on you, but you knew elliot wouldn’t want you talking to them after this trip. “i can get pretty chatty in a text, so email might be better,” you lied flimsily.

“sure,” johnny nodded along, clearly not believing you. “whatever you’d like.”

“you can have john’s email,” kyle said with a smirk, the expression growing when the scot sighed and swatted at kyle’s thigh behind him.

you watched them with confused amusement until johnny read out his email.

[email protected]

“wow. that’s very myspace of you,” you laughed even as johnny rolled his eyes.

“soap’s an old nickname, you’ll probably hear me call him gaz sometimes too. old habits,” johnny explained.

“from the military?” you confirmed and they nodded.

“i say it when i want him to listen. gets him standing to attention when i call him soap,” kyle said teased.

“anything you do gets me standing to attention, handsome,” johnny said, sultry and playful.

“oh piss off,” kyle laughed as he pushed johnny’s face away, pretending to groan in disgust when johnny caught his wrist and messily kissed his palm. you felt your stomach clench at the brief sight of his tongue poking between kyle’s fingers, lapping at the webbing before he let him go.

his tongue there and gone again in a second. you’d almost think you’d imagined it if you didn’t see the spit glisten in the sun before kyle wiped it on his shorts.

you blinked to clear your head and turned away even as the thought of johnny’s mouth around kyle’s fingers replayed over and over in your head.

turning away meant you caught sight of elliot making his way back. it had your thoughts sobering and you looked back to the couple with an apologetic smile. “i’ll see you guys later hopefully, but if not i hope you enjoy the rest of your honeymoon guys.”

“ye trying to get rid o’ us?” johnny pouted, mischief clear in his eyes.

“no, but I know elliot will want to set off straight away so—“

“we know when we’re not wanted, love,” kyle sighed, winking at you to soften the words and let you know they weren’t offended, just pulling your pigtails. “take a hint, johnny, let’s go check out the beach.”

“aye aye, sir,” johnny saluted lazily before revving the moped back to life and waving at you over his shoulder.

“ready to go?” you jumped slightly at elliot’s voice behind you, you hadn’t realised he was so close already and when you turned around you could see he was tense.

“ready when you are,” you said and moved out of the way of the bike.

elliot didn’t mention johnny or kyle and you were thankful; the day had barely begun, you didn’t need an argument to ruin it already.

you swung your leg over the bike behind him and cuddled close, smiling when elliot rubbed a warm palm over your bare knee next to his thigh. today could be good if you just let it, you reminded yourself as elliot set off clumsily.

you lifted your head from his back once he’d managed to get the hang of controlling the moped a little better, becoming confident on the roads after a few minutes, but you wished you hadn’t.

his collar was rustling in the wind and had slipped loose around his shoulder, revealing a smudged lipstick mark previously hidden by his button up overshirt. you felt your breath hitch, unable to look away even as your eyes started to burn.

your gut clenched and rolled unpleasantly, like you could throw up any moment but your jaw was firmly clenched closed. your hands shook where they were holding elliot at the waist and you finally clenched your eyes closed.

with trembling lips, you held back a sob.

today could be good if you let it, you repeated. so let it.

---

you didn’t see kyle or johnny before you left and you didn’t mention what you saw to elliot either.

instead you went back to london, to the dreary rain and the empty flat and the weekly couples’ appointments.

you lied when your therapist asked how your honeymoon went. you grinned and turned to elliot with wide sparkling eyes and reach for his hand to hold between yours as you simpered, “simply perfect.”

but it wasn’t and elliot new it.

the breaking point was when johnny sent your throw-away email account a message one afternoon with a photo attached at the bottom. you grinned when it loaded on your laptop and you zoomed in to see your smiling face, then kyle’s, then johnnys.

it had been taken on the boat on your way back to the dock after a long day swimming and drinking and laughing. elliot had kept to himself for most of the trip unless spoken to, but after an hour you’d managed to ignore him well enough. it wasn’t until kyle pulled him up on your way back, slapped his phone into elliot’s hand and asked him to take a photo of the three of you with the water and island in the background that you remembered he was there.

“elliot, be a good lad and take the photo for us won’t ya?”

“why not ask the captain—“

“he’s done enough dealing with us fer the day, aye? oh— wait, did ye want tae be in it with us?”

“no. thank you.”

they’d thrown their arms around you, pushing and pulling you to their liking until you were stood by the edge of the boat, and smiled. your shoulders were sensitive where johnny’s arm laid over the top - sunburnt you thought at the time - and your hair was still wet from your last dip, but your smile was wide and glowing even as elliot had gritted his teeth.

despite his grumbles he’d done as asked and you’d been dying to see the photo ever since when johnny cooed, “aw, lovely photo to remember ya by.”

now you felt your cheeks heat as you saw how your swim shorts had rucked up high on your thighs, damp and clinging, showing off more skin than you’d realised. your swimsuit at least covered your stomach and cleavage well enough, though johnny’s hand on your shoulder held one of the thick strings of your suit where it had tied at the back of your neck. he was in the middle of playing with it, tugging it so it was taut but not enough to loosen the bow. you don’t remember feeling him pull at the string holding your suit up over your breasts, though you were distracted by the tight hold gaz had on your waist, the handful he’d grabbed as he knocked your hips together.

god no wonder elliot had gotten mad that evening. if you hadn’t known the two were married, you’d have assumed they were trying to get between your legs by this photo alone.

you read the message johnny had sent along with it.

missin you and yer sweet laugh, bonnie!

forgot to send the photo earlier, i think the three of us look well fit, we’ll have to go swimming gain sometime. gaz suggested leucate plage if yer still in love wih france, but im sure there’s a few different au naturel beaches we could try ;)

you sputtered a laugh at that, scoffing at the idea of going to a nude beach especially with those two. bloody hell, elliot would have a fit, you thought gleefully.

but for now we thought you could come visit us like we’d said before? the countryside could be good for you and the ol’ ball n chain. we’d be happy t have ye both for the week, we’ve got the room. just let us know, yeah?

yer handsome pal,

johnny

you shook your head at his theatrics. emailing johnny felt like having a slightly unhinged penpal and reading his emails never failed to brighten up your day, you could hear him in the way he typed. you also loved when you assumed gaz would steal the phone to use his account to talk to you, the lack of scots and shorthand was always a dead giveaway between the two.

you bit your lip and found some of the photos he’d sent previously of their home and garden. it was gorgeous simply put and although the anxiety of admitting to elliot that you’d kept in contact with them had your palms sweating, the deep urge to go visit them ultimately won out.

you bit the bullet over dinner that same night. steak, specially made to soften elliot’s mood.

not that it helped much.

“what?” he dropped his cutlery and pushed back from his seat, needing distance from you as he processed you’d been lying to him. “why would you do that?”

you didn’t have an answer. or not one that elliot would like, so you felt yourself begin to shrug before you thought back to your last session.

“our therapist said it could be good for the relationship if i made some friends separate to yours,” you said.

“she also said you needed to focus trying more with my friends,” elliot reminded.

“but your friends aren’t offering to stay with us for a week in the highlands, elliot. if they were then i’d be all for it!”

“so if i tell my friends that we’ll spend christmas at the ski lodge with them this year, you won’t whine about wanting to be at home together, this time,” he challenged.

you swallowed. he knew you hated skiing and his bitchy judgmental rich friends. it wasn’t even as though it was his easy going friends that liked to go, it was the worst of the bunch that purposely left you out or talked down to you, made it impossible to try without embarrassing yourself.

but fine. you could deal with that this year if it meant your friendship with kyle and johnny was allowed to grow.

“sure,” you said with an obviously fake casual shrug. “so we can go?”

elliot huffed. you sprung out your next argument.

“our therapist also said it was important to let me take the lead a few times. in order to let me regai—“

“regain some power in the relationship, yeah, i know. i was there.” elliot nodded. he seemed to think it over. “this will help you trust me again?”

you reached across the table and held his hand, smiling at him hopefully when he looked back at you. you tried not to think of the lipstick stain in france, tried not to let the hurt cloud you eyes. “yes.” you stood and walked to stand by his chair, chest warming when he wrapped an arm around your waist. “the honeymoon felt forced,” you admitted, making sure to keep eye contact even as he stiffened. “we both felt it, you can admit it, i’m not mad. but this would be new and an adventure. like old times, elliot.”

he nodded a little less resignedly. “sure, old times. ok.”

you smiled, dipped down to kiss him deeply, rubbing his clean shaven cheek with your thumb.

“thank you. this will be fun, i promise. we’ll get to relax and just spend some time together, yeah? no pressure of what we should be doing as a couple or at work or— or—“

elliot softened as he looked at you stutter to find another reason. “yes, darling. it’ll be good.”

you stepped out of his grasp.

“i’ll let them know we can go, what date do you think would be best?”

---

“fucking hell, you had one job. look out for the stupid carved owl in the tree and that’s when we know to turn left,” elliot seethed as he drove, the sun growing dimmer by the minute. you’d spent the entire day driving up north using the directions, had set off that saturday morning in hopes that the traffic wouldn’t be as busy as midweek. “so where are we now? you insisted on following their directions instead of using the satnav, so where the hell does it mention this endless fucking shitty, unpaved road? eh?”

you hunched down in your seat next to him and reread the instructions from soap, hoping to find a clue as to where you were on the, admittedly adorable yet detailed, map he’d drawn. you’d found it endearing when you’d first saw it but now you were thinking it was more of a necessity.

elliot snatched your phone from your hand and split his focus between the dark road and your phone, scrolling erratically to find the directions in the email he wanted. your hand hovered between you, eager to take your phone back but hesitant to foul his mood further.

your eyes caught on movement on the road and you quickly gripped the wheel to swerve and avoid hitting a deer that had wandered out from the trees. “fuck, elliot, watch out!”

he slammed on the breaks and dropped your phone into your footwell as he automatically gripped the wheel to take over from you.

you both sat still, panting; anxiety and adrenaline pumping through your body as you tried to tell it and brain that you were fine, it could calm down, you were ok. you rubbed at your shoulder where your seatbelt had dug in.

elliot started up the car again, silent, and went slower down the road until the headlights caught on a misshapen tree. you squinted before pointing it out. “here, look. i think that’s the owl, go left.”

it only took a few minutes before you could see the lights from kyle and johnny’s farmhouse. the shape of their barn and surrounding smaller outbuildings stark against the natural curves of the hills and trees they were settled amongst.

“we’re here,” you said excitedly. “they said to pull around the side of the barn to the garage they have at the side. their house should be riiight there.” you grinned as you parked directly in front of it on the gravel next to their truck.

“great,” elliot said sarcastically. you didn’t mention his tone knowing that having to drive all day, several hours longer than you’d both expected, would have rankled anyone’s mood.

you climbed out without a word and got your bags out of the back of the car. when you rounded back to the front you found johnny and kyle walking to meet you already, their front door left open behind them.

“bonnie! ye made it,” johnny said as he jogged over to you excitedly. you let go of your suitcase as he pulled you into a hug as soon as you were close enough, scuffing his stubble against your neck in his excitement.

“down, boy,” kyle laughed, nudging johnny out of the way to give you his own hug. once he pulled back he nodded to elliot and smirked. “thought you’d maybe gotten lost, we were ready to start a search party.”

elliot bristled but johnny spoke up before he could defend himself.

“aye, but tea is still warm and ready to be served, an’ ahm fucking starving so let’s get inside yeah?” johnny slapped elliot’s shoulder before leading you all to the house. “done a big roasty fer the pair a’ye, so i hope yer hungry.”

the heat encompassed you as soon as you stepped inside, led through to the kitchen-stroke-dining room. the food smelled divine and the warmth accumulated from the oven and the fireplace had your shoulders relaxing instantly.

the house was far from modern with its mismatched old wooden chairs around the handmade table and the well-loved couch you could spot through in the next room, nothing like your lifeless flat in london. but the farmhouse was still stylish in its own way, in the colour of the cabinets, the throw on couch, the wallpaper leading up the stairs. though more importantly, it was homely. lived in.

“i can imagine the drive wasnae easy for first timers, so sit yerselves down and i’ll plate the food, gaz’ll get the wine,” johnny said.

you pulled out the chair next to elliot, leaving the two opposite you empty.

johnny clapped his hands as if to say voilà when he put down your heaped plates a minute later.

“this looks amazing, johnny, you cooked this?” you asked, eyes round and barely stopping yourself from digging in to be polite.

“have a great sous chef,” he said and patted kyle’s arse when he passed by with the wine. kyle smirked.

“how did you find the drive up, seriously?” kyle asked as he poured your drinks. he took a seat with johnny and gestured for you to start eating; now with permission, you didn’t hesitate.

“it was fine. might’ve been easier if we were given an address instead, satnav might’ve made it quicker,” elliot said as he pushed around some of the steamed vegetables on his plate.

“the views made taking our time worth it though, the valleys we passed were gorgeous,” you gushed. “i didn’t realise there were so many small lakes too.”

elliot sniffed irritably, but you didn’t notice. in fact you’d barely noticed how he played with his food more than ate it as you were too busy chatting and eating. you were going crazy for the hearty roast dinner, you could see in the colour and in the bursting taste of the veg just how fresh it all was; nothing like the store bought stuff you usually got at home.

you hadn’t had anything home cooked in so long that you hadn’t made yourself, and when you told kyle and johnny so they both reared back as though slapped.

“oh love, you’re missing out, that’s not right. don’t worry we’ll take care of you while you’re here,” kyle promised.

elliot cleared his throat. “got any salt?”

johnny’s eyes flickered tersely from elliot to the roast beef he was poking on his plate and back up again. “sure. let me just grab it for ye.”

“cheers,” elliot smiled thinly.

“top up?” kyle asked and gestured to your wine glass. you nodded before turning to elliot, but he wasn’t looking your way so you held your glass out.

“thanks. god, after this and the long drive i think i’ll be ready for bed; sorry excuse for company on the first night,” you apologised.

“we’re just happy to have you here,” kyle assured you as johnny sat back down. your husband doused his food in salt before making a better dent in it, downing his wine quickly afterwards with a wince.

“yeah, i think it’ll be an early one for us tonight, won’t it, darling?” elliot said and started to stand, rudely pushing his unfinished plate away. “in fact, i think i’m pretty tired now.”

you looked down at the last few bites of your meal and the full glass of wine forlornly but stood alongside elliot.

“it really was a fantastic meal, thank you so much, johnny,” you said.

“anytime for you, hen,” he said. “here, let us show you to your room.”

“i’ll grab the dishes while you take them up, johnny. you cooked so i’ll clean,” kyle said, hooking a finger in johnny’s jeans to catch his attention when he stood up. you felt a sharp pang at their easy domesticity. sure they’d said they’d known each other, been together, for a decade, but it still ached that you and elliot where struggling so obviously in comparison despite your sixth anniversary nearing on the horizon.

you gave kyle a fragile smile as you followed johnny upstairs with your bags to your room for the week.

“i’ll leave you to it, see ye in the morning,” johnny said as you settled into your room.

“this is amazing,” you said with a small laugh, disbelief and joy mixing into something like hope as you started to get undressed. the view out of your bedroom looked over the front garden and you felt giddy at the idea of staying with your new friends for the next few days and exploring the area further.

“it’s… quaint,” elliot said.

you turned to him, your mouth pulled tight. “please don’t start.”

“what? it’s just… smaller than what we’re used to,” he said with a shrug, starting to laugh as he gestured at the room. “i mean look at this place, and the bed.”

“keep your voice down at least, elliot,” you hissed, eyes sharp on the closed door of your bedroom.

“darling, you know i get overheated easily, and by the looks of it we’re going to be pressed side by side all night. and i doubt they have a/c,” elliot huffed. he sat down on the bed and rolled his eyes when it squeaked. “oh, come on.”

“we could open the window,” you said stubbornly, ignoring elliot as he shifted to make the bed squeak again.

“and let in the smell of sheep shit? not your brightest idea,” he scoffed. “christ and never mind the bloody noise on top of that. good thing i brought my ear plugs or i’d never get any sleep.”

you bit your tongue when you thought of the constant traffic noises that flooded into your apartment at all times of the day and night, the light pollution that did its best to creep past your blackout curtains.

“i’m sure you’ll get used to it after the first couple of nights,” you said instead and moved to join him in bed. you reached for his hand and squeezed it, leaning in for a kiss, teasing your tongue at his lips for a split second before pulling back. “just… please be nice?”

he sighed.

“fine,” he conceded. “i was just expecting something a little nicer considering the price of the trip we met them on.”

you scowled at him and let go of his hand. “you’re being rude.”

you leant over to turn off your lamp and laid down facing away from him. neither of you noticed the shadows shift under your door, the light footsteps heading away from your room.

---

you woke up the next morning to find elliot already in the shower, you could hear the pipes from the bathroom next door and noticed his suitcase had been half unpacked.

you were grateful he’d let you sleep, you’d gone to bed frustrated and you didn’t want to carry it on this morning. it was a new day and you were eager to have fun.

you walked over to the window and pulled back the curtains. as you gazed out your eyes naturally drifted to johnny, stood near the barn you’d passed on your way in. he was small given the distance but you couldn’t help but stare as he rhythmically chopped logs into smaller, more manageable pieces.

he was sweating, the repetitive action of driving the axe up and then through the thick wood obviously tiring, and you felt water pool in your mouth as you looked on gormlessly.

the sleeves of his thick checked shirt were rolled up his forearms and part of you wished he’d decided to chop the wood in the driveway so you’d have a clearer view of his muscles at work. he wiped his face on his bicep and suddenly turned to the house, to your window.

you ducked away before he could catch you and started to get dressed out of the line of sight the windows may provide. with your face aflame and anxious butterflies rampant in your stomach, you needed to get your head on straight and decidedly not ogle your new friends.

with one last stern word to yourself you headed downstairs back to the kitchen and found gaz pottering around.

“ah morning, love. coffee?” he offered, holding out a cup. you took it gratefully with a small thank you and sat at the table again. there was a plate of toast in the middle, enough slices freshly made made for the four of you, and you reached forward for one. “i was thinking me and soap could show you a hiking trail nearby, make a day of it.”

“the one you showed me on your phone?” you asked, nodding enthusiastically regardless of his answer.

“this one’s even better,” gaz said, smiling fondly. “just might take longer.”

“coffee? thank you, darling,” elliot mumbled as he swiped your coffee from your hands without asking and distracting you from answering gaz. you’d barely had a sip before elliot was finishing the drink off in one go. “mm, bit too milky for my liking,” he told you and sucked his teeth.

“probably because it wasn’t for you,” kyle said flatly. “we’re going on a hike today, care to join or has work called you in already?”

“i’d love a hike,” elliot said brightly. johnny walked in through the front door as elliot continued to talk about the hikes he’d been on before, heading to the sink to wash his hands and leaning up to kiss kyle as he passed. “work can wait for the great outdoors. my wife here knows how much i love going on— on uh, on hikes and finding new trails and mapping them out.” elliot stumbled over his words for a second, taken back by the kiss.

johnny’s shoulders shook with a silent laugh and he turned and winked at you as he opened up a cupboard door that hid his face from your husband.

“oh, so you two go together?” kyle asked.

“no, no,” elliot laughed like the thought was ridiculous. “i go with my mates. not really her thing.”

you pursed your lips; you hated it when elliot answered for you, especially when he was wrong. which was often. instead of fussing though, you focused your ire on another slice of toast from the centre of the table.

“right.” kyle stood from his chair and went to lean next to johnny on one of the kitchen counters. “we’ll pack a bag full of snacks and drinks and then we can be off. give us fifteen minutes?”

you nodded, thankful for the excuse to leave elliot at the table, and went to grab your walking boots before coming back to wait with elliot near the door.

“quicker to get there from the back,” johnny said and led you through the rest of the downstairs out into the back garden.

it looked like it could spread for acres if not for the looming trees of the forest fencing it in.

to the left was their chicken coop and a small locked shed. if you turned around you’d see your cars parked, the garage and then the barn further up.

the chicken coop was on solid muddy ground, closer to the gravel front, whereas the shed was further up on the flat grassy area that began to rise into a small hill further back and closer to the trees; there was a small iron table sat with four chairs closer to the house and you couldn’t wait to use it, imagining sitting out there for lunch or breakfast.

to your right you took in their allotment, the large raised beds full of blooming vegetables; tall beans climbing the trellis arches from one side to another. you saw noticed the glint of a greenhouse hidden behind it all. everything was encouraged to grow to its fullest and you bet the food they’d served the night before had been grown by their very own hands.

“we’ve got strawberries if ye’d like tae pick some over the next few days,” johnny said as he walked you down to the end of the garden, catching the way your eyes were glued to the allotment.

“i’d love that, i haven’t been strawberry picking since i was little,” you said.

johnny nodded. “settled then.”

---

the hike wasn’t difficult, but living down south in a very flat city hadn’t built up your cardio for the steep hills and climbs at all.

“this is a good place to stop for lunch,” johnny said, apropos to nothing.

he squeezed your arm as he wandered off the path towards the edge of the hill. you were halfway there to the top, but already you were loving the views.

“knee bothering you, johnny?” kyle asked as he pulled out a rainproof sheet from his bag and started placing the food out in the tupperware boxes.

“something like that,” he said.

you laughed when you saw johnny pull out a bottle of wine from his.

“just tryin’ tae make use of all the wine we bought on holiday, hen,” he snickered.

you sat down and helped them spread the food out while your husband paced from the ledge to the path and then to the blanket, only to start again.

“have a seat elliot,” you said encouragingly, patting the space you’d left purposely empty next to you.

he slumped down with a huff and kyle side-eyed him.

“how was your night? sleep well?”

“hope the room wasnae too small,” johnny added, biting into a cheese cracker as he looked to your husband.

you felt your stomach drop and your face heat up. “no, not at all—“

“i think i’m just used to the finer things,” elliot said, picking up one of the packed travel cups pointedly and pouring himself some wine.

“we slept fine,” you said firmly as you frowned at elliot. “it’s perfect.”

“ah, we’re just joking around, hen, no need to fash,” johnny teased. “you pack yer paints?”

“shit.” your face dropped as you looked at him. “i completely forgot when i was packing, i was too excited.”

johnny grinned. “you can borrow mine, it’s alright.”

“if they’re not dried up that is,” kyle said with a laugh. “i’ve not seen you touch paints in years, johnny.”

“they’re water paints, gaz, they’re meant tae be dry,” johnny said with a roll of his eyes. he looked to you and covered the side of his mouth. “yer a breath o’fresh air, ye have no idea. i love him but he doesnae have the eye fer it, you know?”

“im right bloody here,” kyle said exasperatedly, making you laugh.

“fucking hell,” your husband muttered under his breath before standing. “i think i’m gonna go ahead and have a look at the trail, get a lay of the land. i’ll turn around in ten and meet you back here.”

“are you sure?” you asked at the same time johnny warned him, “don’t go off the path.”

“why not?” elliot asked, taking it as a challenge despite johnny’s grave tone.

“go straight so you don’t get lost,” johnny repeated seriously. “it’s a tricky place, these woods. one wrong turn and you’ll ne’er be found.”

elliot stayed silent for a moment, left off kilter by johnny’s intense eyes, before laughing, waving him of with a scoff. “sure thing, johnny.”

you watch your husband walk off with an uneasy feeling before kyle and johnny’s easy going nature distracted you once more.

before you knew it it’d been twenty minutes, but you were too busy talking about how they’d ended up moving out so far away from their original shared home, that you hadn’t noticed elliot wasn’t back yet.

“it’s great here, but it can feel… lonely sometimes, just the two of us,” johnny admitted as he looked to kyle. the handsome man nodded and knocked their knees together.

“i know how that feels,” you said, three cups of wine having loosened your lips.

“yeah?” kyle asked softly, tilting his head to meet your downcast eyes.

you opened and closed your mouth a few times before taking a deep breath.

“i want a baby,” you said weakly, sadly. you were quiet as though hoping not to be overheard. “elliot doesn’t think it’s the right time, but im starting to doubt it’d ever be the right time if it were up to him.”

you blink at the anger that had seeped into your last words and gasped as you realised that you’d actually finally said them out loud. not even your therapist had gotten you to admit this.

“oh god, please forget i said that,” you begged them suddenly, wide eyed and pleading. “please. don’t say anything to elliot about it. i— i think i’ve just drank a little too much,” you tried to excuse yourself.

“hey, it’s ok,” johnny said with a concerned frown.

“i didn’t mean it,” you rushed out.

kyle moved to elliot’s previous spot and pulled you in for a warm hug, calming you down.

“it’s normal to want things and to be disappointed when the person that promised you them can’t deliver,” he whispered. you sniffled and slowly wrapped your arms back around him with a nod, tears building behind yojr closed eyelids. you slumped into his hold further when johnny’s large hand rubbed soothingly across your back below kyle’s arms.

it was nice. simply being between them and being comforted by them was nice.

you leaned back and wiped at your eyes with a sniffly laugh.

“thank you, guys, i— thank you.”

gaz squeezed your shoulder for a moment before finally letting you go.

you felt fidgety, needing to do something with your hands and to keep them from staring at your red rimmed eyed, so you reached for a handful of grapes when it suddenly occurred to you that elliot wasn’t back. you looked at your watch and swore.

“elliot’s not here yet, shit what if he’s lost?”

“he won’t be,” johnny reassured you, standing alongside you and grabbing your shoulders. “he’s an experienced hiker, right? he probably lost track a’time like we did.”

“let’s get this packed away and we’ll go catch up to him,” kyle suggested. you nodded, easily calmed once given easy orders to occupy your busy mind

---

“elliot?” you called out as you walked, johnny and kyle on either side of you, looking out into the trees in case he’d gone off track. “you there? elliot?”

“stop shouting, christ, i’m here,” elliot complained further up the trail. he was slouched against a tree. “took you all long enough.”

“oh my god, what happened,” you said as you crouched next to him, looking at the sorry swollen state of his ankle.

“twisted it looks like, worst-case it could be a sprain,” kyle said from over your shoulder. “should be fine, we can get home with him leaning on our shoulders, right, soap?”

johnny tutted in disappointment as he stared down the path instead of at your injured husband.

“the waterfall was only five minutes away as well,” johnny said to no one in particular. he crouched next to elliot. “c’mon then, let’s get you back.”

your husband bristled. he looked longingly down the trail johnny had gestured to just a moment before.

“we should still go, i’ll be fine,” he insisted. “we should go to the waterfall.”

gaz raised his eyebrows incredulously as he helped elliot stand, but he stayed silent.

“you want to lean on me or johnny?” he asked.

“whoever gets us there quicker,” elliot said, face pinched.

kyle rolled his eyes and set off walking, leaving elliot to wince until he matched kyle’s stride. luckily the walk wasn’t long before the four of you cut off the trail and found yourselves stood at the bottom of the waterfall, a light mist of water splashing at your bare skin from where you stood.

“holy shit.”

johnny nudged your shoulders together with a laugh.

“impressive, right?”

“to say the least,” you huffed.

kyle had helped elliot sit down by the edge of the plunge pool with his leg stretched out as you’d taken in the view with johnny, though you soon took a seat next to elliot when you noticed he was situated as comfortable as could be. you pulled off your shoes and socks and shuffled forwards a little to dip your feet in the water, kicking lightly and grinning even with how the cold bit at your toes.

elliot stayed stern faced even as he looked at the impressive feature, but kyle and johnny took no notice.

they started to undress, throwing their clothes down haphazardly by their bags.

“you coming in?” kyle asked you cheekily.

“we go in every time we’re here, tradition now,” johnny explained once he was stood in his underwear.

“i don’t have my swimsuit,” you said hesitantly.

“jus’ go in yer kegs like us,” johnny dismissed the worry.

“it’s probably for the best she’s said no,” elliot said meanly, one eyebrow raised as he looked over your relaxed form, your stomach rolls obvious and plush under the afternoon sun and your thighs spread thick where they pressed against the edge of the natural pool. you suddenly felt the need to layer up in your baggiest clothes. “she’s happy enough sat with me. isn’t that right, darling?”

you felt embarrassment, hot and sharp, flood from your face to your toes as you stared at him. this was your husband. a man that took delight in belittling you.

“oi,” johnny warned from where he stood waist deep in the water.

you ignored them both and stood suddenly, shucking off your clothes with tight angry movements, a smile only eventually pulling at your lips when kyle wolf whistled playfully.

johnny joined in jeering and clapped as you stepped carefully closer to the edge before jumping in. once you resurfaced, you resolutely faced away from the scowl you knew would be on your husband’s face. you were past caring.

the cold of the water had you sucking in thinner breaths until you acclimatised, and you were grateful it was deep enough to brush your collarbones as you could tell your nipples were babbling from the chill.

“be careful, love, there are fish in here,” gaz said as he drifted closer to your front. his smile was bordering on mischievous but it eased your slight reservations of being in the water. “but don’t worry they don’t bite.”

you felt a sudden pinch on your buttcheek and you squealed before johnny’s laugh and warm chest at your back registered. you flushed hot and dug your elbow back into his ribs as they laughed, both barely giving you space to float alone.

they guided you closer to the waterfall with easy going smiles and it wasn’t until you felt their capable hands on your hips and tummy to keep you from being dragged under as you held your hands under the heavy pour that you looked back guiltily at your husband. you pushed off and away from them but continued to swim a little while longer until elliot kicked up a fuss, bored.

“are we done now? it’s getting dark, we should be heading back,” he spoke up when it looked like the three of you weren’t tiring any time soon. “and then there’s dinner to think of.”

“you offering to cook, elliot?” kyle said as he climbed out of the water.

elliot scoffed. “not likely. with the ankle and all,” he said patronisingly.

gaz smiled thinly. “of course.”

the three of you dried off as best you could before dressing and heading back to the farmhouse with elliot leant between johnny and kyle.

even as your clothes chafed against your damp skin, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret swimming. thought the cold was biting even through your coat, and a warm shower was calling for you back at the farmhouse.

---

once you were back you showered quickly and then ran a bath for elliot. you helped ease him in so he didn’t slip and further injure himself.

“put on a real fucking show today,” he grumbled once he was laid back. you cupped the water over his hair carefully.

“what do you mean?” you grabbed the shampoo and began lathering it.

“don’t play dumb,” he hissed. “acting like that, like a whore, with them. again.”

“i wasn’t—“

“you’re a fucking hypocrite,” he said harshly. “punishing me for one little mistake but now you get to act like this with other men?”

you let your hands hang over the edge of the tub in shock. “you cheated on me. more than once, elliot. that’s not a little mistake.”

“we’re past this,” he said tiredly with a shake of his head, rubbing his hand over his forehead to wipe away the dripping shampoo.

“then why did you bring it up?”

he turned to look at you, disgust clear on his face.

“you’re ugly when you get like this,” he said simply. “leave me to it, i’ll call you in when i need a hand getting out.”

your lip trembled as you stood and went back to your room. as you closed the door behind you, you heard elliot mutter to himself, “he’s an absolute idiot thinking this was only a twisted ankle, clearly not a doctor. the swelling has hardly gone down.”

you didn’t react, heading to the room next door with watery eyes. as you were tidying up your clothes, sniffling back angry and hurt tears, there was a knock on the doorframe. your turned to see johnny with a plate in his hand.

“thought i’d make things easier and bring his tea up fer him,” he said and put it on the bedside table. “do you want me to bring up yours too or will you be joining us?”

“oh, i’m not hungry, thank you johnny,” you said with a watery smile. the food looked delicious but elliot’s words had soured your appetite. “i think i’m just going to go to bed as soon as elliot’s alright.”

“ye sure?”

“mhm.” you nodded.

johnny nodded, said a soft, “let me know if ye change your mind.” he pulled out a pack of pain tablets from his pocket with a little wave and dropped them on the bed and then left.

you waited for elliot’s shout before you went to help him out of the bath and back through to your room. you left him to dry and dress himself and once he was sat on the bed with his food, you turned your back to him and willed yourself to fall asleep quickly.

part two

want to email johnny? click here!

#it’s here!! and posted correctly hopefully!!#face claim for elliot of oliver jackson cohen bc he’s hot but he plays an arshole really well #i’ve had a lot of fun writing this over the last month #took me forever but it turned out a hell of a lot longer than i’d anticipated too #hoping the email idea doesn’t flop and goes well!!#thank u kai for helping me with my ocs and thank you birdy for helping me pic the fic title!!#ily guys :’)#full disclosure idk if the area i chose is all that solitary Imao i've never been to scotland never mind falkland or the reservoir #i just looked at google maps lol #soapgaz x reader #soapgaz #soap x reader x gaz #johnny soap mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #kyle garrick x reader #cw noncon #tw noncon #cw abusive relationship #tw abusive relationship #let me know if more tags are wanted or needed #fat reader #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #johnny soap mactavish x reader x kyle gaz garrick #johnny mactavish x reader x kyle garrick #soap x reader #gaz x reader

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smilingformoney · 4 days ago

Text

Die With a Smile

Chapter II. The Watershed

Summary: Elliott discovers a danger lurking just around the corner, and enlists Turpin's help to keep Mary safe.

AN: I know Barker was transported for life and escaped, but I changed it to a 15 year sentence for plot convenience

Read on Ao3 or below the cut:

Not long after arriving at the shop the next morning, Mary’s order of materials was delivered. She tidied away everything but the leather, and promptly set to work on Elliott’s coin purse. Initially Mrs Harris questioned her as to why she was working on this order before others which had been placed earlier, but when Mary explained that the customer was Lord Turpin’s cousin, Mrs Harris congratulated Mary for her smart thinking - if Lord Turpin were to hear a recommendation for Mrs Harris’ Dressmaking & Alterations, he may grace them with his own patronage, and that would be a great honour indeed, with the potential to open the door to recommendations to more Lords and Ladies in London.

Once she was satisfied that the coin purse was as perfect as it could be, Mary set to work on her other jobs, though her mind stayed firmly on the man who’d been on her mind ever since he’d walked into the shop yesterday.

He was nothing like anyone she’d ever met. Although he was wealthy, he insisted he wasn’t one of the gentry, and Mary was inclined to believe him. She’d learnt over the years that one could tell a lot about a man by his clothing. Elliott’s was high quality, which meant he could afford such a luxury - but it wasn’t garish like many of the gentry of London. He favoured practicality for certain, and although the fact his clothing was both practical and well-fitted meant he had the funds to afford both, his preference for practicality meant he wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty and do work of his own - unlike the gentry of London whose practical work hardly consisted of more than the lifting of a pen.

He hardly acted like them either. The gentry Mary passed in the street would never acknowledge her; those that were forced to by visiting the shop, unless they sent their servants in their stead, spoke to and looked at her as little as possible.

Elliott did all that and more. He spoke to her, he listened to her, he asked her questions. And his gaze had hardly left her all night. She’d look at her plate as she cut her food, and when she looked up again, she’d catch him watching her. And with all the confidence that he carried so easily, he felt no shame in being caught looking.

He made her feel seen for the first time in her life. She had only ever been another child in the street, or the apprentice who was little more than furniture and served no function but to sew clothes. Elliott treated her as a person and, at times, Mary thought he might even have been seeing her as a woman.

But that was silly, though. Despite his protestations at being labelled gentry, Elliott was of a much higher class than her. He would never see her that way. And even if he did - he couldn’t act on it. It would bring him too much shame to be seen to court a seamstress’ apprentice.

Still, Mary wanted his company, in whatever form that would take. So when Elliott reappeared with that charming smile at the end of Mary’s work day, full of praise for her workmanship on his new coin purse, Mary was only too happy to accept his invitation to dinner again.

“I thought perhaps we might try that pie shop on Fleet Street,” Elliott suggested as Mary bade Mrs Harris goodnight and joined him on the street. “I hear the meat is excellent. It seems to be frequented by all walks of life, but my cousin refuses to go there for some reason.”

“Oh, do you mean Mrs Lovett’s? Yes, I’d heard it reopened. It used to be just awful. Even Mrs Lovett herself said they were the worst pies in London. But she must have found a new recipe because now the place is packed to the rafters whenever I go past. We might not get a table.”

“Well… I hate to do it, but… perhaps if I use my cousin’s name, we’ll get a table.”

“If you think it’d work… I must say, I’ve been wanting to see what all the fuss is about.”

“Just don’t tell him, he’ll never let me live it down.”

Mary laughed, not least at the absurd idea that she might ever have a conversation with Lord Turpin that didn’t involve her ending up in his courtroom.

Just as Mary had predicted, the pie shop was completely full. Although he hesitated at first, Elliott mentioned to Mrs Lovett that he hoped to recommend the place to his cousin, Judge Turpin; the woman’s eyes widened immediately and seemed to flick towards the upstairs of the building for a moment before she smiled widely at Elliott.

“Well, now, just you ‘old on a minute, sir, I’m sure I can get a table cleared for ya.”

A few minutes later, Mrs Lovett showed Mary and Elliott to a table inside the shop and quickly scurried off to get them some drinks and their pies.

“I hated doing that,” Elliott admitted with a shiver. “In Australia, I need only give my name and people run to do what I tell them. I don’t like to rely on another man’s power.”

“So if you went into a restaurant in Australia and they were full, then you said ‘I’m Elliott Marston’, they’d suddenly have a table for you?”

Elliott smirked and straightened up a little proudly.

“They sure would. Perhaps some day you could come and visit me and I’ll prove it to you.”

“Oh, I can’t see I’d ever have the opportunity to do that…”

“Then you’ll just have to come with me when I leave.”

“Oh, well, I —”

Mary’s stammering was fortunately interrupted when a figure approached the table. She looked up, expecting to see Mrs Lovett, and was surprised to see a man instead, with pale skin and an odd eye, staring strangely at Elliott.

Sensing Mary’s sudden discomfort, Elliott turned to the man with the intention of telling him to fuck off, but with a blink of surprise, his frown turned into a smile of recognition.

“Well, well… fancy seeing you here.”

Elliott stood to shake the strange man’s hand, apparently unperturbed by the way the man took it stiffly and shook once, as if he were a puppet of a man.

“I told you I’d be coming back here, did I not?” said the man gruffly.

“Ah, so this is your place!” Elliott laughed. He turned to Mary with a grin. “Seems I could have used my own name after all. Mary, this is —”

“Todd,” said the man quickly. “Sweeney Todd.”

“Oh, the barber! Yes, I’ve heard about you. I hear you’re the best in town.”

The corner of Todd’s mouth twitched as if he were trying to smile.

“I’d bet my fortune he is,” Elliott agreed. “This man worked for me in Australia the last few years of his sentence and never let go of his razors. Practising all day and night, he was. Bar - uh, Todd, this is Mary Taylor. She’s, ah… a friend of mine.”

Todd gave Mary the slightest of nods, then turned his attention back to Elliott.

“How about a shave?” Todd suggested. “On the house, of course. For old times’ sake.”

“Perhaps later,” Elliott replied, glancing back at where a boy was pouring two drinks behind the bar. “I promised Mary some dinner.”

“Of course.”

Todd nodded stiffly to Elliott, glanced oddly at Mary, then promptly left.

“Is he… a convict?” Mary whispered once Elliott had sat down and the door had closed behind Todd.

Elliott chuckled.

“Sure, but he’s served his time. He was a good worker. A little odd, as you can see, but…”

Elliott trailed off, and before he could finish his thought, Mrs Lovett came over with a tray carrying two drinks and two pies.

“‘Ere you are, loves. Two ales, two pies. Hope ya enjoy.”

She glanced at the door through which Todd had left, then quickly followed in the same direction.

“She’s a little strange too,” Mary whispered, as if Todd and Lovett could hear them through the door.

“The strange ones are always more interesting,” Elliott said conspiratorially. “But… you do have to keep your eye on them.”

He smirked and raised his drink to her.

“Don’t you worry, sweetheart. You’ve nothing to worry about from Todd and Lovett. I’ll keep you safe.”

If there was any danger from either of them, it certainly wasn’t from the food or drink. Mary could see why Mrs Lovett’s shop had become so popular - her pies had gone from being the worst in London to undoubtedly the best. And as much as she wanted an excuse to stay out with Elliott, she was so full after her pie that she couldn’t possibly have the second that Mrs Lovett tried to give her, even if it was on the house.

They were halfway out the door when Todd suddenly reappeared in front of them from the stairs that led up to his barbershop, so suddenly that Mary let out a gasp of surprise.

“Leaving so soon, Mr Marston?” Todd said in that ominous, gravelly voice of his. “Don’t you want a shave? I’ve been hoping for a chance to speak to your cousin too - I owe him an apology for a recent… misunderstanding. I’d appreciate the patronage of such a fine, upstanding citizen as the great Judge Turpin.”

There was a long pause. Mary felt Elliott’s arm wrap around her waist, his hand resting firmly on her hip.

“Another day, Todd. Mary here’s feeling a little sick, so we ought to get back. Isn’t that right, Mary?”

He squeezed her hip slightly as he asked her to confirm his lie.

“Yes, I’ve come over a little queasy,” Mary said, putting her hand over her stomach for effect. “Nothing to do with Mrs Lovett’s cooking, I’m sure, the pie was very lovely.”

Todd looked between Mary and Elliott, then stepped aside. Elliott quickly and calmly guided Mary out of the shop and across the road.

“Elliott, why —”

“Shh. Just come with me. I’ll explain in a minute. Just act like everything’s normal.”

Other than Elliott’s sudden strange behaviour, as far as Mary was aware, everything was normal. Lovett and Todd, although certainly very strange, had been perfectly kind to them both.

In that moment, Mary realised that, although she’d only met him yesterday, she trusted Elliott. If he’d noticed something to be off that she hadn’t, she would do as he said, and trust that he’d tell her what was going on in time.

Elliott led her around a corner and, Mary realised as she followed him down Kearneys Lane, towards Judge Turpin’s house.

“Elliott, I need to get back to my brother —”

With a sudden movement, Elliott pulled Mary into a side alley and pushed her back against the wall. He pressed his body close against hers, much closer than was proper. One hand snaked around her waist, the other cradling her head, and he leant down as if to kiss her — but, instead of bringing his lips to hers, he brought them to her ear.

“Put your arms around me,” he murmured. “As if we’re kissing and you can’t get enough. As if the bedroom is… just that bit too far away.”

Mary had no idea what it was like to kiss someone, much less in the way Elliott was describing, but she wrapped her arms around him all the same, holding him tightly as if to bring him in even closer.

“Good girl. Now, listen to me very closely. You were right about Sweeney Todd. He’s dangerous. The last thing he said to me before he left Australia was that he was going to kill the judge that sentenced him. And he was far too interested when he learnt my cousin’s name.”

“Do you think —”

“Shh. Just listen.”

Elliott moved away from her ear and towards her lips, his hardly more than a few millimetres from hers. She could feel his breath on her lips, taste the ale he’d drunk… she could even feel the tickle of his moustache against her skin. She only had to make the most imperceptible movement to make the kiss real.

“I’m sorry to ask this of you, Mary. But - just until we get inside - I need you to pretend to be a whore I’ve hired. Can you do that?”

Could she? Maybe. Mary had seen plenty of whores. Some of them she’d even known, as unless they lived in the whorehouse they were street-dwellers just like her.

But would she?

“Yes,” she whispered.

Elliott smiled, though there was hesitation in his eyes.

“Good girl. I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

“…Okay.”

If this was what a pretend kiss felt like, Mary wasn’t sure she could handle a real kiss. It was hot, it was passionate, it was desperate. Elliott kissed her like he needed it to live, and after a few moments, the shock wore off and Mary remembered she was supposed to be playing the whore.

She kissed him back, parting her lips for him, and as his tongue explored her mouth, some quiet voice in her head reminded her that they were supposed to be heading inside.

As if he’d heard the voice too, Elliott pulled away, panting, and if it weren’t for the darkness of the evening, Mary might have noticed the way his pupils were blown with lust in a way that couldn’t be faked.

Elliott dragged her back into the street and practically chased her the rest of the way. Mary giggled in a mimic of the way she had heard whores giggle, playing up to the chase.

It was smart, she thought as they approached the gate to Lord Turpin’s house. By pretending to be a man and a woman eager to get into bed, they were able to give the impression that their guards were down but still hurry down the street without causing anyone who may be following them to think they were onto them.

“Get inside, sweetheart,” Elliott growled in her ear. He yanked the door open and took Mary by the hand to lead her inside.

As soon as he closed the door, Elliott continued down the hallway, Mary’s hand still in his. How far exactly was he planning on taking this ‘whore and client’ charade…?

Elliott paused outside a door. He knocked, letting go of Mary’s hand to do so, and she actually felt a slight pang of disappointment when he didn’t take it back afterwards, instead placing it on the small of her back.

The door opened, and in the doorframe stood an imposing man, tall and handsome, older than Elliott though bearing some resemblance to him, with grey hair and stubble on his cheek. He glanced from Elliott to Mary, and when his eyes rested on her, he looked at her with a piercing gaze. He looked her up and down, an eyebrow raised, and smirked.

“Brought me a present back from the whorehouse, have you, Elliott?”

“This is Miss Taylor, the apprentice I told you about,” Elliott said. “Mary, this is my cousin, Lord Turpin.”

Mary dipped into a curtsey just as Mrs Harris had taught her.

“Good evening, my Lord.”

“The apprentice?” Turpin repeated with a smirk. “And you’re bringing her home to meet the family already? A little soon to be proposing, don’t you think?”

“It’s not like that. We need to talk, cousin. Your life may be in danger.”

Turpin looked back at Elliott in surprise.

“Well… in that case, you’d better come in.”

He stood aside and held the door open to allow Elliott to lead Mary into what it quickly became apparent was the Judge’s private study. Books lined the walls, many with unmarked spines, and two armchairs sat by a lit fireplace. Turpin picked up a book that lay open on a small table between the two chairs, marked the page, and placed it aside as he sat back into the chair he’d previously been occupying. Mary hesitated, noticing there were three of them and two chairs, until Elliott gestured for her to sit in the other armchair. She sat as he directed, but he placed a firm hand on her shoulder protectively.

Turpin glanced between the two of them curiously.

“So… my life’s in danger, is it?”

“I need you to think back fifteen years or so. Do you remember sentencing a man named Benjamin Barker?”

Turpin’s face immediately twisted from curiosity to a look that could only be described as hatred.

“Barker?” he spat. “Of course I remember him. He’s Johanna’s father. Why?”

“You sentenced him to transportation. To Australia. He worked for me.”

“Yes, I supposed he might end up with you at some point.”

“So you can imagine, when I saw his face again today telling me he’d changed his name, I recognised him instantly.”

“Barker? Here?” Turpin seethed. He thought for a moment, then said, “Well, I suppose his sentence would be up. I didn’t imagine he’d survive Australia, to be honest. A meek little man like him.”

“Meek?” Elliott scoffed. “Maybe when he left London. But I assure you, by the time he came to work for me, he’d been in Australia for ten years and it turned him twisted. A shadow of the man you sent away. He had fifteen years to think on his crimes, but all he thought on was the apparent injustice he suffered at the hands of the judge that sentenced him. He swore his innocence until the day he left.”

Turpin didn’t reply. He sat stiff, his gaze fixed firmly on his cousin. The anger emanating from him was terrifying. Mary knew his anger wasn’t at her, and yet, it terrified her.

“The last thing he said to me before he left for England was that he would exact vengeance on the judge that wronged him. I thought nothing of it at the time — my men swear vengeance on people back in England all the time. But when I saw him again today and mentioned you by name… he was far too interested. And that’s when I realised — you were the judge that sentenced him, weren’t you? You’re the one he spent fifteen years nursing a grievance against. You’re the one he came here to kill.”

There was a long pause. Turpin took a deep breath, then looked at Mary with that piercing gaze of his.

“And how do you tie into all of this, Miss Taylor?”

“Mary was with me tonight,” Elliott explained for her. “Before I realised the danger Barker posed, I introduced them. He knows her name, he knows her face. Barker’s certifiably insane, cousin. If he believes Mary is even tangentially connected to you, he might go after her. I want to keep her here, to keep her safe. I can’t have her lose her life for the crime of associating with Judge Turpin’s cousin.”

Stay here? Mary thought in a panic.

The idea of staying in a manor such as this was beyond anything Mary could have possibly imagined. She’d have shelter, warmth…

And Tommy would be out in the cold.

Turpin was standing up now, his imposing figure looming above her as he looked down at her, examining her as if she were a curiosity. He reached out and pushed a stray hair out of her face, then took her shoulder in his hand and pulled her to her feet.

He kept looking at her as she stood in front of him. Mary was terrified, but there was something else there too, some anticipation she couldn’t quite place. Turpin traced his finger along the neckline of her dress, which stopped between her collarbone and her breasts, and for a moment Mary feared he was about to pull the fabric down. For a moment, she hoped he was about to pull the fabric down, and that scared her even more.

“Now that I see her… I understand the appeal, cousin,” Turpin said in a low voice.

He released his hand and stepped back. Mary released a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding.

“She can take Johanna’s room,” he declared.

“Th - thank you, sir,” Mary said ardently with another curtsey. “Your kindness far exceeds your reputation, my Lord. But might - might I ask one boon, sir?”

Turpin hummed with amusement.

“Go ahead. I’ll consider it.”

“I have a brother, Tommy. He’s only a boy. Our parents are dead and I - I’m all he has. He’ll be worried sick if I don’t come home. And - and if he goes looking for me - he might start asking around…”

“Hmph. You’re right, that could be a problem. Very well. He’s a boy, you say? I suppose my staff could do with a boy. Beadle!”

Mary winced at the sudden rise in Turpin’s voice. A few moments later, another man scurried into the room. He was as opposite to Turpin or Elliott as he could be; he was short, slightly hunched, ugly, and he emanated none of the power that the other two men did.

“Yes, milord?”

“Miss Taylor, tell the Beadle where to find your brother. Beadle, you’re to find Miss Taylor’s brother and tell him his sister has secured him employment with my staff and he’s to come back here with you immediately, where his sister waits for him. You’re to ensure no one overhears your conversation, and no one is to know where he is going. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, milord.”

“Very good. Miss Taylor, if you’d step outside with the Beadle and give him the information he needs. Elliott and I need to have a conversation that’s not for the delicate ears of a woman. When you’re done, head upstairs, to the first door to your left. This was my ward Johanna’s room, but it’ll be yours for the time being. Get yourself cleaned up; you can take any of Johanna’s clothing to wear. She won’t be needing it any time soon, so it’s yours to do with as you please. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Mary said with a bow of her head. “Thank you, my Lord.”

Turpin smirked. “Hold on to that gratitude, Miss Taylor. I’m sure I can think of some way you can thank me.”

---

“This certainly explains a lot,” Turpin said once the door was closed and he was alone with Elliott. He sat back down in his chair thoughtfully. “I visited Todd previously — some weeks ago now. He came at the Beadle’s recommendation. If I needed any proof that the Lord favoured me, it came that day, when a sailor who’d been stalking my Johanna burst into the shop and announced his plan to steal her away before he noticed my presence. I had wondered what association Todd had with the boy - now I understand. Of course he’d want to abet stealing his daughter away.”

“Todd mentioned some misunderstanding he wanted to make right.”

“Mmm.”

Turpin stared into the fire, as if the answer to his problems might be in the flames somewhere.

“Do you believe he suspects you know I’m the one he swore vengeance against?”

“Possibly.”

“So I suppose your gaining his trust is out of the question.”

Elliott shook his head. Turpin sat back with a sigh. He heard the sound of water running as the bath upstairs was filled; he glanced up, thinking.

“What about her?”

“We… put something of a show on for them. Mary’s a good actress - I almost believed myself that she was a whore coming back to a client’s house.”

Turpin snorted. “A shame she’s not. Bloody gorgeous little thing. Is she a virgin, do you suppose?”

“Fucking hell, William. Is that really what you’re thinking about right now? There’s a lunatic on Fleet Street plotting your demise and you’re thinking about getting your dick wet. Unless you’re suggesting she seduce Barker?”

“Well…”

“That’ll never work. He talked about his wife until the day he left. He won’t be interested in another woman. Not everyone’s as easily hypnotised by a good pair of tits like you are.”

Turpin laughed.

“You’re one to talk, cousin. She may be at risk of Barker’s wrath because her good pair of tits hypnotised you into taking her to dinner.”

Elliott rolled his eyes, then said, “Look, it’s late. I’m exhausted. How about we get some sleep and come up with a plan in the morning.”

“Yes… yes, I suppose you’re right,” Turpin sighed as he stood up. “Goodnight, Elliott. Try not to wank too hard thinking about her tits.”

“Oh, shut up.”

---

Elliott slept fine that night; he hadn’t lied about being exhausted. It was Turpin who was too distracted to sleep.

He laid in his bed restlessly, his mind swimming.

Benjamin Barker. Turpin hadn’t thought about that man in a long time. Could the meek barber he’d once sentenced really have come back a madman with a vengeance? Elliott certainly seemed to think so.

He knew he should have sent the man to the gallows. He’d only spared his life because he didn’t suppose Lucy would have accepted the advances of the judge who’d had her husband killed. Let her think he granted him mercy, and she’d be grateful.

Except it hadn’t worked out that way. He hadn’t accounted for Lucy being so daft as to reject him.

Now, all this time later, he was paying the price for his mercy.

He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

Restless, Turpin got out of bed. He was angry, frustrated, his heart racing. If only he had a whore nearby to take his frustrations out on.

… Perhaps he did. He still wasn’t entirely convinced by Elliott’s story that the girl he’d brought home was a mere acquaintance.

His feet carried him purposefully through the bedroom door and down the corridor to Johanna’s old room. He removed the painting he’d hung up some years ago when Johanna had begun to grow into a woman, and peered through like he had so many times in the past…

And there she was. Mary Taylor. Whether an innocent seamstress’ apprentice or a whore simply pretending to be an innocent, quite frankly Turpin didn’t care. He wanted her. He would have her. And if he had to, he would take her.

Turpin replaced the painting on the wall and quietly opened the door to Johanna’s - no, Mary’s room. He’d sworn to Johanna he’d never come into her room unbidden, but he’d made no such promise to Mary. The girl hadn’t even locked the door. It was practically an invitation.

The moonlight illuminated Mary’s sleeping form in the bed. She certainly looked innocent, lying there peacefully, any worry she may have had during the waking hours melted away from her pretty face as she lay in the comfort of sleep.

Yes, she was a very pretty woman indeed. Turpin hoped that Elliott had been telling the truth, that she was an innocent little virgin - he did so love the feel of a tight virgin cunt. He hadn’t taken a virgin in such a long time - they were rarely taken into the whorehouse, and when they were, they were often bought quickly. One had to be lucky to be the one to come across a virgin for sale.

And here she was… not even for sale. Lying in her bed, unprotected, door unlocked… he needed only to pull down the blanket that covered her sleeping form, and she’d be his for the taking. The barrier of her nightgown and bloomers could be done away with so easily… he didn’t even need to wake her up. She just needed to lie there, her legs spread, and he would do all the work.

Oh, but… he did love the noises they made. And surrendering one’s virginity to the great Judge Turpin wasn’t something many could brag of. It would be cruel of him to avail her of experiencing it fully, of feeling his cock breach her entrance and pierce her innocence… no, she had to be awake for this. He wanted to do more than take her virginity — he wanted her to surrender it willingly.

Of course, he could wake her now and offer himself to her… he didn’t doubt for a moment that she’d want him. A poor thing like her could only dream of being in a Lord’s bed.

But it would be even sweeter if she came to him.

A shiver of arousal swept over him at just the thought of it… a knock on his chamber door at night, her tiny frame quivering with need as she offered herself to him. I can resist no longer, my Lord, I implore you to rid me of this desire… even in my sleep I cannot escape the thought of you, I dream of surrendering myself to you… I beg of you, my Lord, take me… teach me what only you can.

Before he could give in to the temptation, Turpin stood quickly and left the room, closing the door behind him quietly. He hurried back to his room, and when he expelled his seed into his hand with a muffled groan, it was Mary’s face, not Johanna’s, that he saw in his pillow.

And it was her he would have.

---

The next morning, Mary was awoken by a maid, who told her breakfast would be served shortly. She put one of the dresses in the wardrobe on and made her way downstairs to join Lord Turpin, who was sitting at the breakfast table sipping a coffee.

“Good morning, Lord Turpin,” she said with a small curtsey.

“Ah, Miss Taylor, good morning. Come, sit, sit. Elliott will join us shortly, I’m sure.”

Turpin gestured to the seat next to him.

“Thank you, my Lord.”

Mary sat in the proffered seat as a servant poured her a mug of coffee.

“You slept well, I trust?” Turpin asked.

“Oh, yes, sir. The bed was most comfortable. If your serving girl hadn’t woken me, I might have slept all day.”

Turpin chuckled. “It is tempting sometimes, isn’t it? But the day must continue, no matter how comfortable the bed.”

The door opened and Elliott joined them to sit opposite Mary, on Turpin’s other side.

“Morning, cousin. Miss Taylor. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you. I was just telling Lord Turpin how comfortable the bed was.”

“Yes, they are comfortable beds, aren’t they? Quite large, too. I could easily fit another in that bed with room to spare.”

Elliott looked at Mary with a smirk, and she blushed under his gaze.

He really needed to stop flirting with her. She wasn’t sure she could handle getting her hopes up when she knew it was just a fantasy.

The food came out, and for a few minutes, they sat in silence as they ate. Mary was amazed at the amount of food that was prepared for just the three of them, and though neither of the men held back in sating their appetites, Mary reserved herself, not wanting to embarrass herself with her lack of knowledge of table etiquette.

“Lord Turpin, if I may make a suggestion about Sweeney Todd?” Mary said as the plates were cleared away.

Turpin looked at her with amusement. “Go on.”

“Well, I was thinking about this last night while you were talking between yourselves. The boy that works for Mrs Lovett - I thought I recognised him, but it took me a while to place him. I don’t know his name, but he used to work for another barber named Pirelli - he was a bit of a showman, I’d see him in the street sometimes entertaining customers. Right before Todd’s shop opened, Pirelli just stopped showing up. I didn’t think much of it; I supposed he’d left town. But it’s surprising that he didn’t take the boy with him. How he ended up with Mrs Lovett, I don’t know.”

“Maybe Barker got rid of the competition,” Elliott suggested. “The boy was left with no employer, so Lovett took him in. Or he lost his customers to Barker and couldn’t afford to keep the boy so he left town to find some new turf.”

“Boys are cheap,” Turpin reminded him. “Pirelli would have to lose everything not to afford him. It seems much more likely their separation was… unintentional.”

“Do you really think Barker might have killed Pirelli just because they were competition?” Mary asked. “Is that not a little extreme? I know you say he’s insane, Elliott, but… surely he would try that last, not first?”

“Don’t underestimate the capacity of men for evil, Miss Taylor,” Turpin said warningly. “They can do terrible things for reasons we can never understand.”

“Don’t scare her, cousin,” Elliott said. “We’re men too, you know.”

“Law-abiding men. I’m sure Miss Taylor sees that.”

“Of course, sir,” Mary said quickly. “I know of your reputation, my Lord, you show no mercy to men who commit crimes. I’d hardly expect you to commit any yourself — unless you intended on sentencing yourself to the gallows afterwards.”

Turpin chuckled and placed his hand over hers. His hand was large and it enveloped hers completely. It was also warm, and his touch sent a tingle down Mary’s spine.

“I’m flattered by your positive view of me, Miss Taylor. And I can assure you that my cousin would never harm a woman. Isn’t that right, Elliott?”

“Of course,” Elliott said, though his gaze was fixed firmly on Mary. “We’ve only known each other a short while, of course, Mary, but I’d hope —”

“I trust you.”

Elliott blinked, taken aback slightly by her swift response, but he smiled. “Good. It seems we all trust each other. And if we all work together, we can find something to pin on Barker. Send him back into your courtroom, cousin.”

“Yes, and I’ll deal with him properly this time,” Turpin said firmly. “If we can find some evidence to pin him to Pirelli’s disappearance, I’ll send him straight to the gallows, just as I should have done fifteen years ago.”

The day being Friday, Turpin had court to attend, leaving Mary and Elliott alone to concoct a plan.

“Are you alright?” Elliott asked Mary sincerely, guiding her to the sofa in the parlour room to sit with him. “I’m sure this must be frightening for you… I’m sorry, it’s my fault you’re caught up in this at all.”

“I’m alright, Elliott, really. I feel safe here with you and Lord Turpin. And now Tommy’s here too… so long as he’s safe, that’s all that matters to me.”

Elliott smiled. “Your love for your brother is really something, Mary, you know that?”

“Oh… well, he’s all I have. And I’m all he has. He was so small when our parents died, I - I had to protect him. Everything I do is for him… if I lost him, I’d have nothing.”

“Well, that’s not true anymore,” Elliott said warmly, placing his hand over hers. “You have me now. You both do. I promise you, Mary, I’ll keep you both safe. From Barker, from… anything.”

“You don’t need to do that, Elliott. You just invited me to dinner, you had no idea Barker would appear.”

“No, Mary, I…”

Elliott laughed incredulously at himself and shook his head.

“This is nothing to do with Barker, Mary. I know we met only two days ago, and perhaps you’ll think me as insane as Barker for saying this, but the moment I saw you in that shop, you felt… familiar, somehow. Like I’d known you but forgotten.”

“Elliott…”

He reached over with his free hand to cup her face.

“I have to confess, that kiss yesterday… it wasn’t entirely a pretense.”

“No, I… I didn’t think it was…” Mary confessed, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“I’d like to kiss you again, if that’s alright.”

Mary nodded, almost imperceptibly, and Elliott’s lips were on hers again in an instant. He tasted like the black coffee he’d drunk with his breakfast. When he pressed his tongue against her lips, she parted them instinctively, allowing him entry to explore her mouth.

She had no idea what she was doing. Was she supposed to use her tongue too? She tried it, tentatively running her tongue over his; he seemed to like it, because a deep groan came from within his chest, and he wrapped an arm around her waist to push her onto her back.

“I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I walked into that shop,” Elliott growled when their lips parted slightly as he climbed on top of her. “I’m trying to be a gentleman, but… mercy, you’re irresistible.”

His lips came down on her again, but instead of kissing her lips, he kissed her neck, exploring every inch of her he could find. The hand cradling her head crept down - towards her neckline - and Mary froze in shock when Elliott cupped her breast in his hand through the fabric of her borrowed dress.

“Elliott —”

“Mmm…”

His lips were moving dangerously further down her neck, the contrast of his soft lips and rough whiskers sending a shiver down Mary’s spine.

“I - I need to tell you something…”

Elliott detached his lips from her skin and raised his head to look at her, his eyes heavy with desire. Mary’s neck felt strangely empty all of a sudden, as if protesting his absence now that she knew what his presence felt like.

“The kiss yesterday… it was… well, it was my first.”

“Your first kiss?” Elliott repeated in surprise. “I find that hard to believe, a beautiful woman such as you. The boys must be lining up to kiss you.”

“One or two have tried but… I didn’t want to kiss them. I find myself wanting to kiss you, though.”

Elliott smiled smugly. His eyes flickered to her lips and back, then he said, “Mary, if you’ve not been kissed before… does that mean you’ve not been touched? And I don’t mean just any touch - I mean this.”

He squeezed the breast in his hand. Mary shook her head shyly.

“Fucking hell,” Elliott groaned, arousal coursing through his veins. He pressed his forehead against hers, trying to contain himself. “Are you a virgin, Mary?”

“Yes.”

He kissed her again then; he had to do something with the arousal that was driving him insane. She was undoubtedly the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on, and he wasn’t certain of her age but she’d surely been a woman for some years now - how had no one claimed her yet?

Mary didn’t know what to do with herself. She liked Elliott - she liked him a lot - and she liked kissing him, liked having him on top of her, and she wanted, in time, to do more with him. She wasn’t stupid, she knew what the rock-hard bulge between his legs meant. Even through her skirt, she could feel it pressing against her thigh. She knew what Elliott wanted, and if it was going to happen, she wanted it to happen with him.

But… here? Now? They were on Judge Turpin’s sofa, and worse, they were unmarried. She didn’t want to just surrender her innocence to Elliott like this, as much as she liked him.

His lips were still on hers as one hand pushed her skirt up, exploring the skin of her leg as much as he could until he reached the edge of her bloomers. He took hold of the waistband, ready to pull them down, and it was only then that he pulled his lips away, only then that he gave her a chance to speak.

“Elliott… Elliott, this isn’t right, we’re not married…”

“I want you, Mary. Do you want me?”

“Yes, but —”

“But nothing. The Lord made humans to fuck, didn’t he? It’s the most natural thing a man and a woman can do. Marriage is a man-made concept.”

“Elliott, please, I want you but… not like this.”

“Shh, it’s alright,” he said soothingly, noticing the panic in her voice. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. If you want to save yourself for marriage, of course I’ll respect that. But… if you’ll allow me… there are other things we can do. Ways we can satisfy our desires while leaving your virginity untouched. Would you like me to show you?”

Mary had no idea what he was talking about, but she trusted him in all things, this included. She nodded, and Elliott’s eyes lit up with desire.

“Oh, the things I’ll teach you, Mary… if ever you want me to stop, you just say so, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Good. Now… where was I?”

He knew exactly where he was, because his hand hadn’t moved from its hold on her bloomers. He sat up slightly, hooked both thumbs under the waistband, and pulled her bloomers down past her ankles. He discarded them on the floor, then pushed her legs apart further, causing her skirt to fall back and reveal her private parts to him completely.

Mary felt a shiver of cold air between her legs as he exposed her, contrasting with the heat she could feel herself giving off. Elliott’s eyes were transfixed between her legs, and he must have liked what he saw, because he smiled hungrily.

Before Mary could ask what he intended to do, Elliott bent down again, but this time instead of going anywhere near her face, his lips connected with the skin of her inner thigh. Her skin there was sensitive, she discovered, and she let out an involuntary giggle as his moustache tickled her skin.

Elliott smirked at her response, his kisses ghosting up her thigh, before he stopped, hovering right above her mound. He glanced up at her.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No…”

“Good, because I desperately want to taste you.”

Mary was about to ask what he meant - had he not tasted her with every kiss already? - but she interrupted herself with a gasp when Elliott’s tongue darted out and licked a line through the hair down there, following the shape of the flesh buried underneath, and the gasp turned into a surprised “oh!” when he reached the top and, just for a moment, his tongue glanced over one particular spot that felt very good.

“Do that again,” Mary gasped.

She heard Elliott chuckle proudly, and he obeyed, his tongue delving a little deeper this time, lingering just a little longer, and when he reached that sweet spot at the top, he paused. He looked up at her expectantly, as if waiting for instruction.

“Just there, Elliott, please…”

He made a small, precise circle around the sensitive nub he’d found, and Mary let out a high pitched noise she didn’t know she was capable of making.

“More… please…”

That seemed to be the permission Elliott was waiting for, because he started moving his tongue against that sweet spot, but this time, he didn’t stop when she reacted. He kept going, sometimes changing his movements, from a circling motion to up and down to side to side, faster, slower, each time paying close attention to her reactions as he searched for the perfect way to please her.

He desperately wanted to slip his fingers inside her too, but that could wait. He’d promised to leave her cunt untouched, and so he would. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t play with the rest of her body as much as he liked.

Mary’s every nerve was on fire. She had no idea pleasure like this was even possible. She could feel her insides burning, her instincts begging her to let him take her, but she ignored them. Even without her trepeditions about sex before marriage - which were very quiet at the moment - she wasn’t sure she could handle even more pleasure.

The pleasure was building even now, coiling inside her, and she cried out as a wave of indescribable pleasure washed over her, causing her legs to shake; she grabbed onto the sofa cushions for purchase as the blissful feeling hit her again and again. It was incredible, and she never wanted it to end - she could die happily like this, Elliott’s face between her legs - but end it did, the waves of pleasure subsiding, and it was only when she exhaled and collapsed onto the sofa that Elliott stopped his movements and gave her some respite.

He sat up, looking down at her with a grin of pride across his face, along with some glistening substance that must have come from her. He wiped his face with his hand and licked it away, humming happily as if the stuff was ambrosia.

“Fucking incredible,” he murmured. “Oh, Mary, Mary, Mary… you’re going to be the death of me.”

“I… didn’t know I could do that,” Mary admitted.

Elliott laughed.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’ve got a lot to teach you. I’ll show you something else you can do too. But first, I need you to get on your knees.”

About half an hour had passed when Mary found herself in the bathroom, cleaning herself up. The stuff she hadn’t known she could make was all over her thighs and stuck between her pubic hairs, and although Elliott had pulled his cock out of her mouth before he finished, some of his seed still managed to get on her face, so she had to clean that up too.

She massaged her jaw as she wiped her face with a wet cloth. Elliott had promised that, with practice, she’d be able to take his cock in her mouth fully, but Mary was a little more sceptical. It was much bigger than she’d thought a cock would be, and even just taking some of it in her mouth had been enough of a challenge.

There was some of his seed on her chest, too; she’d have to change her dress. Hopefully Lord Turpin wouldn’t ask why she’d changed clothes when he came back from court.

What a strange situation she’d found herself in. Just two days ago, her life had been as it always had been; working in the shop from 6 in the morning to 8 at night, buying what food she could with her wages, and going back to Tommy in their bedsit to eat and turn in for the night.

Then, Elliott Marston walked into her shop, and everything had changed. She was no longer working - Lord Turpin had sent a message to Mrs Harris that she would be away for a while - and she was no longer starving either. Her diet had gone from half a loaf of bread on a good day to multiple full meals a day. Tommy was working in the kitchens, and Mary was living in the former room of Lord Turpin’s ward.

And… she had just done things with Elliott Marston she could never have imagined in a million years. She had had no idea about the nub between her legs - the clitoris, Elliott had called it - that apparently existed only to feel good. Much less had she known what pleasure a man’s tongue could elicit from her - or that she could bring him pleasure with her own mouth. All this, while preserving her virginity.

Was this normal for men and women to do outside of marriage? Would Lord Turpin expect it of her too? Images crossed her mind of Turpin with his head between her legs, his cock in her mouth…

She felt a tingling sensation between her legs at the thought, a sensation she was beginning to understand, and she tried to shake herself of the thoughts. Instead, she turned her focus back to what she and Elliott were supposed to be doing - brainstorming ideas to pin Sweeney Todd to the disappearance of Signor Pirelli.

When she came back downstairs and met Elliott again in Lord Turpin’s study, they were both looking far more presentable and not at all as if they’d just done what they had, and Mary had an idea.

---

Mr Todd, I write following a conversation with my cousin, Mr Elliott Marston, who has told me of your earnest wish to make amends following our previous disagreement at your tonsorial parlour. In light of this, I invite yourself, your neighbour Mrs Lovett and the young boy who works for you both to attend my house on Kearneys Lane for dinner tonight at 7 o’clock. Regards, Lord W. Turpin

“What do you think?” Elliott said once he’d finished drafting the letter for his cousin to sign. He handed it to Mary, who took it instinctively before she looked down at it, and hesitated.

“I, um… I don’t…”

“I know my handwriting’s messy, but it’s only a draft, isn’t it? I’m sure he’ll write it out much neater.”

“It’s not that. It’s just… I can’t read.”

“…Ah.”

“Sorry.”

Elliott shook his head and took the letter back. “No, don’t apologise. It’s my fault for assuming. Here, I’ll read it to you.”

He read it out to her, and Mary listened carefully, then nodded.

“Yes, I think that sounds good.”

“Can you really not read at all?”

“I can do numbers! I need to, for measurements. But words… no. Nothing.”

“Here. That’s my name.” Elliott pointed to his name in the draft letter.

“Why are some of the letters in there twice?”

“Do you know what… I don’t know. My mother taught me literacy, and that’s how she taught me to spell it. Perhaps I could teach you.”

“You’d teach me to read? Really?” Mary gasped.

“Of course,” Elliott chuckled. “And write too. How else are we to write to one another after I leave?”

Mary’s face fell slightly. She’d forgotten that Elliott was only in London temporarily.

“Here - why don’t I show you your name?”

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her down to sit on his lap. He pulled out a clean sheet of paper and made some marks on it.

“There. That’s Mary. Now, there are two ways I’ve seen your surname spelt - which do you prefer?”

He wrote out Tailor and Taylor

“Oh, I like that one,” Mary said, pointing to Taylor. “I like the little curly thing.”

“That’s a Y. You have it in Mary too, see? It matches. Mary Taylor.”

“Can you show me what Tommy’s name looks like?”

“Of course. He has a Y like you, actually. And two letters, like me. Here.”

He wrote: Tommy Taylor

“This letter” - she pointed to the T - “is that the ‘tuh’ sound?”

“It is! Very good. You’re a smart girl, Mary.”

“Then why does it look different in your name?”

“What do you mean?”

Mary picked up the letter and pointed to the word Elliott had told her was his name.

“This one.” She pointed to the small t. “It’s got more of a curl at the bottom, and the line is in the middle instead of at the top.”

“Ah, well - there are uppercase and lowercase letters. Uppercase letters are used at the start of a sentence or a name.”

“Why?”

Elliott laughed. “Mary, you are asking questions I never thought to ask my mother, so I can’t say I know. It just is. Why don’t we start with the basics? I’ll show you the alphabet. There are twenty-six letters, which make different sounds, and sometimes that sound changes when certain letters are put together, but we’ll come to that later.”

“Well, I already know this one,” Mary said proudly.

She picked up the pencil and wrote out the letter T. She looked between her name and Tommy’s, trying to figure out the letter sounds.

“And… this one. That’s a ‘mm’ sound, right?”

She wrote out the letter M.

“Very good. But let’s start at the very beginning, there’s an order to the alphabet to help you remember…”

By the time Turpin came back from court, Mary had migrated from Elliott’s lap to her own chair, claiming that being so close to him was distracting her, and as much as he enjoyed having her on his lap, it surprised Elliott to realise that he enjoyed watching her enthusiasm for learning even more, so he let her pull up another chair to Turpin’s desk as she copied out the alphabet he had written out for her.

He kept his hand on her knee, though. There had to be some compromise, after all.

“Not using up all my good ink, I hope,” Turpin commented with wry amusement when he walked into his study to find Elliott and Mary concentrating hard on something she was writing.

“No, we’re using pencil. I hope you don’t mind, cousin. Mary was eager to learn her letters when I offered.”

“Her letters?” Turpin repeated. He crossed the room and looked down at the paper Mary was concentrating so hard on.

He scoffed. She was writing the alphabet.

“Are you illiterate, Miss Taylor? At your age?”

“Not everyone has access to education, cousin,” Elliott reminded him firmly.

“Hm, I suppose not. I hear Forster’s keen to get all children in school soon, though. Your brother might see the benefit of that, but I suppose you’re too old for any educational reform now. How old are you, Miss Taylor?”

“Oh, um… honestly, I don’t know, sir.”

“You don’t know,” Turpin repeated sardonically. “You don’t know how to read or write, you don’t know your own age — is there anything you do know, or is your sole purpose in this life to look pretty?”

Mary ducked her head in embarrassment, but Elliott placed his hand on her shoulder.

“Look, I don’t know who or what’s pissed you off today, but insulting Mary’s not going to achieve anything. She’s a smart girl, she’s picked up half the alphabet already, and she’s the one who’s come up with a brilliant idea to help you deal with Barker.”

Turpin raised his eyebrows. “Oh? And what plan’s that?”

“Write this letter out in your own handwriting,” Elliott explained, handing his cousin the draft letter. “We’ll have it delivered in the late afternoon tomorrow. You and I will entertain them here while Mary and Tommy sneak into Todd’s parlour to look for evidence.”

Turpin read the letter through, then tossed it back on the desk.

“Very well. It’s not a terrible idea. I’ll write it out shortly — first, I need a drink. It’s been a long day. Would you like one, Elliott?”

“Go on, then,” Elliott said. He pointed Mary to the next letter in her alphabet. “Keep going, Mary.”

Turpin looked at Mary as he brought a glass of whiskey over to Elliott.

“Look at me a moment, Miss Taylor.”

Mary looked up, wondering if she was about to be berated for something else. Turpin looked at her curiously for a few moments.

“Hmm. I’d say you’re a few years older than Johanna. She’s fifteen, so… seventeen at the youngest, I think. No older than twenty, certainly.”

“Yes, I was thinking eighteen,” Elliott said.

“Old enough to marry. Have you no suitors, Miss Taylor?”

Mary blushed under Turpin’s intense gaze, wondering if he’d somehow figured out what had happened after he’d left for court that morning.

“Oh, um… no, my Lord. No one’s expressed interest, sir.”

Turpin swirled the liquid in his glass thoughtfully. “Really? A beautiful woman like you?”

“Well, I work a lot, sir. I don’t have time for courting. And if I did… Tommy may be my brother, but I might as well be his mother. I don’t think anyone of my - my station would want to take on the responsibility of a child that’s not his.”

“Boys are easy to look after,” Turpin scoffed. “I’d just put him to work — as I’ve already done. A small price to pay for the hand of a beautiful woman.”

He took a long swig of his drink.

“Well, I’ll get this letter written out. To deliver late tomorrow afternoon, yes? Why so specific a time?”

“If we give it to him too early, he’ll have time to wonder the sincerity,” Mary explained, “and he might think to hide any evidence. But if it’s delivered just a few hours before, they’ll both be too busy getting their shops closed in time to think about it before coming.”

“Hm. That’s not completely daft thinking, I suppose. Alright, out of my way, you two, let me write this out.”

“That’s the highest form of praise you’ll get from him,” Elliott said with a jest to Mary as they tidied up and moved out of the way for Turpin to sit down. “‘Not completely daft’ is his way of saying ‘you’re brilliant, Mary.’”

She laughed, and as Mary followed Elliott to the armchairs by the fire, Turpin said, “When you do something brilliant, Miss Taylor, I’ll be sure to tell you. Elliott’s only never heard such words from me because he’s never earned them.”

Ignoring him, Elliott instead paid attention to Mary and asked, “Does eighteen sound about right to you?”

“Hmm… I suppose so. I don’t know when my birthday is, so it’s hard to track.”

“You don’t know your birthday? Did your parents never celebrate it before they died?”

“Yes, but I don’t know what the date was. Oh, but I know when Tommy’s birthday is! I remember because he was born on Easter Sunday and Pa made a joke about him being Jesus born again. What day is Easter on?”

“It changes every year,” Turpin replied from the other side of the room. “It’s the first Sunday after the full moon that occurs on or after the spring equinox. Do you know what year he was born?”

“I’ve kept count, he’s had ten birthdays! Though we’ve always celebrated his birthday on Easter Sunday, I didn’t realise it changed every year…”

“1853, then,” Elliott said, doing the maths before Turpin could berate Mary for not knowing what year it was ten years ago. “Do you know when Easter Sunday was in ‘53, cousin?”

“Of course I bloody don’t,” Turpin snapped. “I’ll ask at church on Sunday, I’m sure they’ll have a record. Now, stop talking, you’re distracting me.”

Elliott glanced at Mary with amusement, though she was clearly much less amused by Lord Turpin’s irritability than he was. Every time he snapped, Elliott had noticed, Mary looked upset, even if it wasn’t her he was angry at, as if she wanted desperately to please him and any hint of his displeasure was a personal failing of hers.

He pulled forward the small table that sat between the two chairs and put it in front of Mary with her almost-finished alphabet. Grateful for the distraction, Mary went back to writing out the rest of the letters, starting with the funny swirl that looked like a hook, which Elliott told her quietly was an S.

“S as in silence,” Turpin barked from his desk, and when Elliott smiled with amusement, Mary couldn’t help smiling too.

“S as in smile,” Elliott said, softer, choosing to ignore his cousin. “Like the pretty smile you have.”

Mary blushed, and neither of them noticed the way Turpin glanced up when he heard Elliott’s comment, his eyes narrowing.

He had hoped he had time to allow Mary to come to him, but from the way she was blushing at Elliott’s simple compliment, Turpin realised that, if he wanted her, he had to act sooner rather than later.

#alan rickman #sweeney todd #quigely down under #judge turpin #elliott marston #die with a smile

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