#with the help of indoor plumbing ofc | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shadowsof-thenight · 4 years ago

Text

Where our story begins: Chapter seven

Story summary: This is a victorian era AU Home is where our story begins, but how does one know where home is?  

Julia has a good life. A calm life. She really doesn’t have much to complain about. That is, until a handsome stranger steps into their home in the country and all that calmness seems to disappear instantly. Who is this man that seems to terrorise everyone with his haughty ways? 

Ship: Bucky Barnes X OFC-Julia

Warnings: Angst and fluff for this one.

Words: 3965

***

A/N: I hope you will all enjoy this one! The ending of this chapter is what will really set things in motion for this story.

Anyway, reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated!

And a special thanks to @gnomewithalaptop for the amazing help provided!

***

Masterlist

Story Masterlist

*** She was walking faster and faster, yet it was getting her nowhere. The door in front of her was as far away as it had been the entire time. Fear was gripping at her heart and she felt an immense urgency to reach that door before her. Why? Julia couldn’t really tell—but she recognised the hallway she was in as the one leading to her parents bedroom, and the door must have been theirs. She couldn’t remember how she had gotten here, nor what had brought her in the first place; she just knew that there was danger afoot. In particular, her father was in danger. Again no valid arguments, though it seemed abundantly clear to Julia nonetheless.

“Father!” she called out, but got no reply. She tried to run to the door, but found that the rug beneath her was simply piling up behind her and she was still not getting any closer.

Stopping for a moment she realised that, aside from her heavy breathing, there wasn’t a sound around. That was strange. It was the middle of the day; there should’ve been people out and about, but she appeared to be entirely alone.

Or was she?

“He’ll be okay, Julia. I promise. There is nothing you can do for him now.” James’ voice sounded from behind her, and she turned quickly. She was greeted by piles upon piles of rug—at least twice her height. He was behind them, she was certain—his voice was close by.

“James?!” she called out, stepping to the pile and realising it was solid, like stone.

“I’m here,” he replied, still close even if she could not see him.

Julia grabbed the hem of her wide skirt and bundled it up to free her feet as she began to climb towards the sound of James’s voice. She wasn’t getting any closer to the door, but perhaps James would be able to answer her questions.  The climb seemed endless, though her panting barely increased, as if she had suddenly found a power, an endurance she had never known existed. Reaching the top, she could finally see James standing at the bottom of the pile. A pile which somehow had gotten three times as high. Her feet slipped and she quickly dropped to her knees, the long drop to the bottom making her shiver.

“What is going on?” Julia asked nobody in particular, though James was the only one in the vicinity to answer. He didn’t say a word though. He simply offered her that sweet smile of his, while he stared at her with the same intensity as he had the night of the ball. She hoped it was love.    “James, I’m scared,” she said, her voice suddenly much smaller as fear tightened her throat.

“Don’t be. I’m here! I’ll always be here,” he promised and she really wanted to believe him. She wanted to put all her faith in him.

With that realisation, Julia stood up, carefully taking small steps down the enormous pile of solid rugs. She slipped a few times, desperately grabbing at any edge she could find, just to keep herself upright. She managed to keep from falling, though her hands were now full of dirt and blood. Apparently this wasn’t a pile of rugs anymore. Exhaustion pulled at her tired limbs, but she persevered—walking until she was ready to give up altogether. That was when James’s voice reached her ears again.   “Julia, I’m right here!”

“Help,” she called back to him, feeling weak and helpless.

She reached out to him, arms outspread, wanting him to hold her or catch her perhaps. But James wasn’t moving; he stood in the exact same position—unmoving. Julia was so exhausted though, too exhausted to go on. She kept reaching for James as her feet slipped again, and this time she could not stop herself from falling. She screamed as her world turned black.

“Miss! Are you all right?” Mary asked as Julia sat up in her bed with a start, cold sweat clinging to her skin.

Julia felt out of breath and slightly confused as she met the kind, worried face of her oldest friend. Placing a hand over her heart, she found it beating rapidly, and she took a deep breath in an attempt to steady herself. Flashes of her nightmare came to her, and she closed her eyes momentarily to banish them from her thoughts. She’d had nightmares before, strange ones, frightening ones, but this one really seemed to take the cake.

“My apologies, Mary. Have I given you a fright?” Julia asked, forcing herself to smile as her heartbeat returned to a normal pace. She opened her eyes slowly, seeing Mary still staring at her.

“I came to wake you, but then you screamed,” Mary explained, as she finally moved again and fetched some water to dab on Julia’s face—a gesture for which Julia was very grateful.

“I’m sorry, Mary. I must have been having a bad dream. I’m better now.”

“Would you like me to draw you a bath?” Mary offered, and Julia readily accepted. It would give her some time to gather her thoughts before she faced anyone else.

Julia had an inclination of where her anxiety came from, though it didn’t appear to have much to do with the events of her dream. Either way, she needed a little more time to gather her thoughts before going downstairs. Her mother would want to talk about the ball; she’d want to hear what Julia’s favourite parts of the night were, and her favourite dance. She might even ask who her favourite dance partner was—mostly because she had found the answer to it already and needed the confirmation. Julia had barely spoken to her parents at the ball, and they would want to know everything she had experienced. And since they would most likely have seen her smiling bright for most of the night, these were normal questions for a parent to ask their child.

She was certain, however, that her parents had missed the moment that had given her such anxiety to induce a nightmare. She was intent on keeping them ignorant of that fact. It would do them no good to share the fear she had momentarily felt. She would discuss it with Natalia first. She would know what to do.  Julia took the cloth that Mary had used to dab her face and took it to her neck. The cold sweat finally seemed to be retreating. Stepping out of the bed, she walked towards the bathroom attached to her room. Long ago it had been a dressing room, but when bathrooms had become a regularity, Julia’s grandparents had made the choice to place it in the dressing room. All these years later, Julia was grateful for the choice they made. Though, as she watched Charlie lugging buckets of water, she could only hope that her parents would continue the remodelling and modernising and include indoor plumbing. They were modern people — this should be a modern house, should it not?   When the bath was fully ready, she thanked Mary and Charlie profusely before gently shooing them out of the room and stepping into the warm water. A deep sigh escaped her as she lowered herself in the water and the steam rose up around her. Her hair had been expertly braided before bed and was now rolled up on her head to keep it from getting wet. It gave Julia the freedom to lean her head back, and she made a conscious effort to relax her body.

Her feet were still a little sore from all the dancing, and she smiled at the memory of her dances with James. She’d been nervous around him all of the sudden, and she had struggled to understand why, until her conversation with Natalia. She and James had never spoken of their intentions. Their walks, their conversations—they had all happened in such an organic manner that neither of them had ever stopped to think of it. However, Julia could not deny that, slowly but surely, it had gone from regular interactions with a guest to something akin to courting.

Eventually she would have to ask James if this was what he wanted. A conversation was necessary, for her heart was in the game, and she needed to know where they stood. For now though, she was intent on dreamily remembering their night and telling herself it was in fact a romantic connection that had grown between them.

Unfortunately for Julia, the night hadn’t been all fun. Lord Rumlow had been acting rather peculiarly improper. He had been most forceful in their conversations, and Julia had not liked it one bit. After their dance, she had escaped and found James, who had quickly been able to sooth her worries—even without knowing the full extent of them. But Lord Rumlow had quickly shown her that James could not always be around.   It had happened near the end of the night, when Natalia and Julia had taken a stroll around the manor to admire the hard work that Natalia had put into the decorations. The men had gathered in the drawing room where they were having a smoke while the band was taking a short break—they were joined by virtually every other man at the ball. At least one had slipped their notice though.  When one of the maids had come for Natalia with some questions and Natalia had followed her to another room, Lord Rumlow had been there to corner Julia.   “Julia, I must confess that our conversation wasn’t as I had hoped it would be,” he had started, and Julia had nodded, unsure what she could say. It certainly hadn’t been anything she had expected to happen.

“I apologise. I only meant to warn you,” Lord Rumlow spoke softly, glancing around. Probably to make sure there would be no eavesdropping.

The gesture made Julia nervous.   “For Lord Barnes?” she asked to clarify, “Who has been nothing but a gentleman, even in the face of your imprudent questions the other night?”

“You should ask him about his business with your father,” Lord Rumlow said. He spoke harshly, his patience clearly wearing thin.

“I shan’t. Now please, I must find Natalia,” Julia said, her voice steady and strong, despite her nerves. She’d always been a tad wary of her neighbour. Always felt an almost imperceptible anger radiating from him, simmering just underneath the surface. There wasn’t enough horsepower in the world to make her spend time alone with this man, she thought as she scurried away in search of anyone to cling to for company.

***   “I was hoping we could go for a ride today,” James said softly once they were seated at the dining room table. It appeared that Julia hadn’t been the only one with a slow start of the day, and instead of having food sent to their rooms, her parents had decided to make an elaborate early lunch. Or a late breakfast.    “It would be preferable to a walk as my feet might need some more time to recover from all the dancing,” Julia answered with a smile.

“As do mine, and I only danced a fraction of what you did,” James grinned.

“That’s because you only danced with Carolina and me,” Julia teased and James smiled back.

“I could’ve easily done without Carolina’s superb dancing.” James stared into her eyes as he spoke, and Julia could feel a flutter in her belly. Was she wrong to think that perhaps he had noticed the change between them as well? If so, he certainly didn’t appear to be pulling away.

“And accept only my mediocre dancing?” Julia asked, teasing tone still in her voice.

“My dearest Julia, your dancing was perfection,” James insisted and Julia felt her cheeks heating in a blush.

“What are you whispering about, little sister?” Alexander asked, smiling brightly as Julia scowled at him.    She should’ve known that her brother would stick his nose in her business now that he was here. And since the men had agreed on no business today, he had plenty of time to satisfy his curiosity. She couldn’t really blame him—they’d never been apart as long as they had been since his marriage, and while Carolina was a faithful penpal, he was not. Alexander often forgot to send a letter and sometimes to even write a reply. Julia loved him dearly, but he was a tad scattered at times, much like their father in a way.

“We were discussing the possibility of a little outing today,” James answered for her.

“An outing?” Carolina asked excitedly. “Like a walk?” She had known of the daily walks James and Julia took and had already expressed that she wished to be a fly on the wall for those—this would offer her a front row seat. Of course the conversations would be a tad different with Carolina there.

“Our poor feet might need some rest before we can return to our daily walks, so perhaps on horseback instead,” James said with a smile. He had hoped to spend some time alone with Julia to talk, but it wasn’t in him to be rude in the face of all the kindness that Carolina showed. He also didn’t think Alexander would let up on his curiosity about their interactions. He’d made several inquiries with James already. He had wanted to know James’s intentions with his little sister and James could not fault him for that.

“Could I impose myself on this outing?” Carolina asked hopefully, and Julia nodded with a smile.

“The more the merrier,” Julia said, before glancing at James and wondering for a moment if he was as disappointed as she was about the prospect of having company. As wonderful as said company was, she had hoped to speak to James in private—or semi privacy at least. Mary had been their chaperone for most of their walks, and she would never share a word of what she overheard.

*** 

“This was such a good idea,” Carolina said as she took a deep breath of fresh air. They’d left the manor some fifteen minutes earlier and were walking at a leisurely pace along the road that would lead them to a nearby forest. The afternoon sun was warm enough to battle the chilly wind that had been blowing all week and it was absolutely lovely—Julia wasn’t fully experiencing it though.

James and Alexander were walking a little ways ahead of them, laughing and joking with one another. Julia stared at their backs and wondered what her brother had said to make James laugh so generously—James wasn’t this relaxed very often. During the many weeks that he had been with them, she often saw the stress clearly displayed on his frame. The serious face, sometimes a frown, the tense raised shoulders—none of it had escaped her notice. Often it was better when they were on their walks, though she had seen him getting lost in thought a few times. On those occasions, the frown lines in his face had increased. There was something heavy weighing on him, and she wished she could help him carry the load. As it was, she could only hope that her brother could be of some assistance. After all, she was just a girl, and men rarely shared their burdens with the women in their life, especially if they weren’t married to them.

“Yes, Carolina, it certainly was. I’m glad I thought of it,” Carolina said mockingly, and Julia laughed as she was pulled from her thoughts.

“My apologies,” Julia said, and she glanced at Carolina to find the other woman smiling brightly.

“Do you think you could love him?” Carolina asked, looking ahead to the men.

“I think I could,” Julia confessed, and saying it aloud made it feel more real. The fluttering she had felt at the dinner table returned with a vengeance, and she decided that she liked the feeling.   “Isn’t that the most exciting feeling there is?” Carolina asked, love clear on her face as she looked at Alexander’s back.   “And a little frightening, honestly,” Julia said softly, a slight blush on her cheeks.    “But it can turn into such beauty, Julia,” Carolina said, and Julia smiled, a little unsure.    She trusted Carolina with all her heart, but there was so much that she didn’t know about James. And there were things that linked him to her father that caused tension. She wasn’t entirely sure how it was all intertwined, but she knew that it was. Julia never did well with being uninformed, but she knew better than to straight out ask any of the people involved. Perhaps at some point, James would inform her himself—if he felt for her as she felt for him.

‘Have you noticed that he rides one-handed?” Carolina asked a little while later.

“I hadn’t,” Julia said, looking towards the men. They were now nearing the tree line ahead. Suddenly it appeared clear as day that James was only using his right arm. His left arm was loosely crossed over his torso. She wondered why this was. She had seen him favour his right side before, though not quite this much.

“I wonder what that’s about,” Carolina said. Julia knew that her sister-in-law wasn’t half as curious as she was, so it would be up to her to figure this out. Not today though—today she had other subjects to discuss with James if they ever had a moment alone.

***  Julia squinted at the sunlight reflected in the water before them. They’d spent an hour or so riding and had decided on a well deserved break along the lake in the center of the forest. Alexander had spread out a large blanket and surprised everyone with wine and cake—courtesy of Maudlin.

“When did you arrange this?” Carolina asked, smiling as she took a bite of her cake, before leaning back against her husband’s shoulder. Alexander himself was leaning against a large tree and he looked very pleased with himself.

“When you were all getting changed into your riding frocks, I made some quick inquiries, and as it happened, Maudlin had already baked a cake for tea today,” Alexander said with a smug smile on his face.

“Please tell me she held something back for mother and father,” Julia asked, as she too munched on her cake. She was careful though; she’d always been told that a lady eats neatly and calmly. If she needed to convince James of her qualities as a wife, she would not do so by eating like a pig.

“Naturally, Maudlin would never let me take all of it,” Alexander chuckled.

A short while later James stood up from the blanket and turned to Julia. “Would you care for a stroll by the waters edge?” he asked, and Julia was eager to accept his hand to help her upright.

Standing, Julia took a moment to brush off some imaginary dust from her dress and catch Carolina’s eye. Her sister-in-law nodded her head encouragingly, almost imperceptible, but it was still clear enough for Julia to see and understand. At this moment, she was happy to know the other woman so very well.

“I was hoping to catch you alone today,” James confessed as he threw a small pebble in the water. It skipped three times before it sank.

“Me too,” Julia said, craning her neck to follow his movements as she tried to discover how he made those pebbles skip.

Catching her attempts to follow his hands, James chuckled and handed her a pebble. “Hold the flat part as the underside,” he started, “then take it between your thumb and ring finger, like this.” He demonstrated every move as he said it, really breaking down the action for her.  For him it might’ve been simple, but Julia was glad that he didn’t make her feel silly for not knowing.

“Now, pull your arm back, just like that.” James gently directed her arm into position. “And throw.”

Julia did as instructed, and her pebble skipped once before sinking. She happily turned to James, jumping in place with excitement.

“I’ve never been able to do that,” she said, a bright smile on her face.

James couldn’t help but smile in return—she looked utterly adorable in her enthusiasm. And the fact that he had been the person to cause this response made him feel emboldened enough to say the words he’d been wanting to speak. Looking back at their companions, he saw them engrossed in conversation together. They wouldn’t eavesdrop or interrupt them for now.  He could tell Carolina and Alexander were happy together; their body language spoke to that fact; both relaxed and sitting close together. He hoped to achieve that with Julia one day.

Now that he had assured himself that they were not within hearing distance, he finally broached the subject that had been heavy on his mind throughout the week, with it coming to a strong climax last night. He’d been fond of her from the get-go, but last night told him that it was more than that. He was falling for the beautiful lady standing next to him.

“Julia, I was wondering if we could talk about a few things.” His mouth ran a little dry and he suddenly forgot how to hold his arms. He’s been searching the ground for more pebbles, pushing the stones aside with his feet, but he knew he should not put this off any longer—who knew how long Alexander would give him? They would soon have to return to the house.

“Anything, James,” Julia assured him, and she felt giddy with anticipation. Would he say what she thought he might? What she hoped he would?

“I’ve really been enjoying my time here,” James started a little shakily. “In particular our walks, and our conversations.”

“I’ve been enjoying those as well,” Julia said, eager to agree with all he had to say. She was excited, nervous, and scared at the same time, which made it harder to stand still—but she knew she had to at least appear calm outwardly.

“When I first arrived, it had been to discuss business with your father, but our walks were a nice change in scenery.” Her responses were calming his nerves a little, but he was still very happy to have thought this conversation through beforehand. He knew what he wanted to say, and he was now more convinced that she would want to hear it. “I appreciated the friendship you offered, your honesty and your curiosity. It was refreshing,”

“And at times slightly unprecedented,” Julia countered, and nearly bit her tongue in response. Why couldn’t she just keep her mouth closed, she wondered. But James laughed, clearly not put off by her words.

“Perhaps to society, but I liked it,” James said, looking her in the eyes, trying to assure her of the honesty in his words. “I don’t know exactly when it changed for me, but I know that I would like to have more than friendship with you.”

“You do?” Julia asked, a little timid, blushing slightly.

“Yes, and I was hoping to ask you if you feel the same,” James asked, wringing his hands nervously as he awaited her answer. He wasn’t even sure when he had grasped them together.

“I would love to move beyond the friendship we’ve built, James,” Julia finally said and James had to control himself—he wanted to pull her into his arms then and there.

“If I were to speak to your father, would that please you?” he asked, just to be absolutely sure.

“It would, most definitely.”

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x OFC #Bucky Barnes Fanfiction #Bucky Barnes AU #Marvel Fanfiction #Where our story begins

4 notes · View notes

catchester · 5 years ago

Text

12 Days of Christmas

Title: Ten Lords a Leaping

Authors: @evieplease and @catchester

Which character: Actor!Tom and OFC Rocky

Genre: Humour/Explicit

Fic Summary: Tom and Rocky spend their first Christmas as a couple and Rocky meets Tom’s Mum for the first time. Expect 12 gifts, too much boozy, bad puns and lots of fun!

Rating: Mature

Previous Chapters: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17138390/chapters/40304798

Chapter 13 - 10 Lords a Leaping

Knowing that the Ten Lords a Leaping was looming, I’d spent ages wracking my brain to come up with something for Tom’s Tenth Day of Christmas present. Why did I ever agree to this mad scheme? But after his Nine Ladies Dancing I needed to raise the bar. Wait. Oh dear. If I couldn’t get Lords to Leap, maybe Tom and I could do the Leaping? From barre to bar? There are loads of pubs with Lords and Royalty in their names in the greater London metropolitan area!

An hour with google maps and Bob’s yer uncle! I had a list of pubs and a walking map. There were some really terrible pub names out there! I mean, The Royal Flush? Really? They’d better have excellent plumbing!

However, I found the best, most wonderful name of all. The Queen’s Scepter!! I can’t even think of it without laughing out loud! Though it sounds like it ought to be the name of a sex shoppe where one can buy really quality dildoes.

I arranged our pub ‘leaping’ so that all our stops were within walking distance. We’ll take a cab to the first one, because it’s The Queen’s Scepter, (snicker!) which was farthest away, walk from pub to pub, and take a cab back from the last one, as we’ll probably be legless by then.

I checked I had all my ‘leaping’ gear. I needed to be comfortable and warm for a long day in and out of doors. I wore the red wool peacoat that Tom had given me for Christmas of course, a rather deep cut v-neck black jumper, and my good jeans, the ones that cup my arse just right. I bounced on the toes of my old comfy black trainers, eager to get to our adventures.

A beaming Tom met me on the stoop, pulling me indoors, wrapping his arms around me and bending me back to kiss me as if he hadn’t kissed me in months, instead of just this morning.

Naturally, I gave as good as I got, my tongue dancing with his, my hands in his hair and my leg winding around his thigh. Finally he let me up for air and grinned down at me.

“Now will you tell me what you have planned for today?”

I grinned slyly back. The only clue I’d given him was to wear comfortable shoes. He’d taken it a little far, if you ask me, he looked more like he was going hiking, but that wax jacket with a hoodie underneath did suit him, and he was in those lovely old, soft, black jeans so I wasn't about to ask him to change! I kind of liked the tan Caterpillar boots, they gave his posh image a working man’s edge, which oddly suited him. I realised I’d been staring at him for longer than was perhaps appropriate.

“Um, right.” I surreptitiously checked for drool in the guise of fixing my lipstick. That might have been more suave if it hadn’t been lip balm.

“This was a tricky one! I mean, short of setting Parliament on fire, where the hell am I going to get Ten Lords a Leaping?! And anyway the lazy sods aren’t even in session!” I waved my arms about in exasperation.

Tom looked faintly alarmed. “Well, not to mention that it is Christmas, and you’re not Guy Fawkes, after all!”

“And aren’t you glad I’m not!” I wriggled my bum and batted my eyelashes at him, just to remind him how lucky he is. “So, while I wouldn’t mind doing something that would shift that lot off their arses, I can hardly wait to see what you’ve laid on for Eleven Pipers Piping, and I don’t want to be languishing at Her Majesty’s pleasure for it! Plus, your Nine Ladies Dancing was so brilliant! I needed to raise the barre, so to speak… And anyway, they say that ten out of Ten Lords proof-er drinking in the daytime!”

Tom glanced out the window at the chilly, grey day. “So we’re going to a pub...?” He frowned. “What does that have to do with Lords a Leaping?”

I crossed my arms and shook my head in mock disapproval at his slowness.

“Well, I figured that if the lazy bastards won’t leap to it, it’ll have to be our job! And there are loads of pubs named after Lords and other Royalty, so we’re going on a Ten Lords Pub Leaping!”

Tom choked “Good Lord! That’s…so bad, it’s actually good!”

“Why thank you,” I curtsied. “So you approve, then?”

“Certainly! It sounds marvelous fun!”

“Well, I’m glad I won’t have to gin up any excitement, because I’ve been tankering with the list of pubs and maps all morning!”

“And will we have to order particular drinks at each of these noble establishments?”

“Nah. Let’s just play it by beer.”

“ Well, you’ve done an excellent job, as far as I can see.”

“It’s ale in a days work!”

Pulling up to the Queen’s Sceptre, Tom stepped from the cab onto the kerb and gallantly offered me a hand out. I stifled a snicker. If my Posh Idiot wants to treat me like a grand lady, am I going to object?

Besides, his hand was warm when I slid my cold fingers into his palm, and when he tugged me onto my feet he met me with a kiss. I shivered in the cool damp air and he bundled me into the pub.

The Queen’s Sceptre was a traditional olde worlde pub with dark beams overhead and a quiet fire in the fireplace, immediately warming us.

Tom helped me off with my coat. “Thank you again for my pretty wool coat, Tom.” I stroked the sleeve. Tom smiled, pleased. “It’s totally baa-aa-d-ass!”

Now he groaned and rolled his eyes. “You know, when I was shopping for your gift, I had a conversation with myself…” he trailed off expectantly. Ok, I’ll play.

“Oh yes? Do tell!” I raised an enquiring eyebrow.

“It’s a coat, I said to myself. What could possibly go wrong with a coat, I asked myself. I totally forgot to check for puns!”

I stood on my toes and kissed the end of his nose. “Now you know! It’s good to learn something new each day, right? You should write it up as a life-hack!”

“What, and give some runny nosed kid online the opportunity to say ‘Ok, boomer’ to me? I think snot.” Tom raised an offended eyebrow and I snickered. I’d like to see some kid try to get away with calling Tom old!

After we ordered our drinks at the bar, I plopped down on the bench and looked around the scarred old place. There were cracks in the plaster, probably left over from the London bombings during the war. The rough wood floor had probably never been polished, the tabletops were gouged and scratched, and the mullioned windows were filled with wavy, bubbled old glass. There were only a couple of other drinkers there. But the place was perfect. It carried the rich, warm, smell of good ale, and the scent of the logs burning on the fire.

“Your sheep impersonation needs some work, by the way,” he told me. “That ‘baa’ sound needs to come from the throat,” he rubbed his hand suggestively along his throat, tracing a finger around his adam’s apple. “You need to practice until you can literally feel the vibration and-”

I stared at him, my mouth falling open. Was he seriously trying to give me an acting lesson here to improve my sheep bleating?? I’m supposed to be the weird one in this relationship, not him!

“Then with a little-” he stopped and burst out laughing. “I’m sorry... your face!” he said between guffaws.

I could feel my blush rising but hopefully he’d think it was still from the cold outside. He’d got me, but there was no way I was going to admit that!

Fortunately the barman interrupted for our drinks order. I went for a lager, and Tom asked for a glass of wine, whee aren’t we adventurous?

Soon we were sitting at a table in the window of the nearly empty pub, looking out at the grey day.

“I have to say, I’m impressed by your choice of a pub crawl,” Tom grinned at me over his wine, his eyes twinkling merrily. “This ought to be interesting, since you can’t hold your liquor.”

“Can too!” I drew myself up indignantly.

“Darling,” he drawled, “you were three sheets to the wind the first time you met my mother! Your first words to her were, if I remember correctly, to stumble over calling her ‘Mum’, ‘Hiddleston’ and ‘Mrs. Posh Idiot’! You were squiffy!

“How long are you going to bludgeon me with that one for?” I teased. “But, that’s fair,” I nodded judiciously. “Of course I’d had nearly half a bottle of scotch on my own, and it was all your fault!”

“My fault?! How was you turning up trolleyed my fault?”

“She was your mother!”

Tom blinked, confused. “Well yes, she was. I mean, she still is.” He shook his head. “What’s your point?”

I rolled my eyes. “Obviously, I’d never have got drunk in front of your mother if you hadn’t insisted on introducing me! It stands to riesling.”

“You’re treading a vine line, there.” He snorted and looked skeptical, but he had to concede my logic. Reluctantly.

“Now let’s have a look at this list of Lordly pubs of yours.”

I pulled the list and map from my bag and set them in front of Tom with a flourish:

The Queens Sceptre

Sir Vesa’s

The Lord Lucan

The Royal Flush

The Barons Bollocks

The Duchess and Tipple

Down for the Count

The Bloody Queen Mary

The Earls Whiskers

The Laird of Scotch

The Princes Licker

The Rummy Lord

The Fresh Prince

The Dukes Drunk Ducks

The Kings Cocktail

Tom ran a finger down the list and laughed. “You’ve got fifteen pubs listed here, love, not ten!

“Hey, it’s not my fault that London publicans have an over fondness for kissing Royal arse!” I rolled my eyes. “Anyway, some of them are too far away for our walking programme. I only included the ten in walking distance of each other. Check the map. See?”

Tom flipped the list over and looked at our proposed ‘leaping’ route.

Tom laughed, pointing at The Prince’s Licker.

“Is that really what it’s called? The Prince’s Licker??”

I grinned. “Well no, it’s spelled Liquor. But I like my spelling better, as in ‘Candy is dandy, but lick-her is quicker to her heart’!”

Tom pulled me closer and nuzzled behind my ear. “It certainly is with you.”

I nuzzled back. “And you have a very good licker…” I trailed off suggestively.

Tom promptly licked a broad, very wet stripe up my cheek as I squealed and ducked away. “Guess I deserved that,” I said ruefully, scrubbing at my face with the sleeve of my jumper. Tom innocently drank from his glass, returning his attention to the list.

“The Lord Lucan.” he mused. “Isn't he the one who murdered his nanny, tried to murder his wife, and then disappeared, never to be seen again?”

“Yes,” I said with a grin. The macabre nature of the pub’s namesake had played a little into my choice. “You order your drinks at the bar, then they hide them and you have to find them before you can drink.”

“Are you serious?”

“No,” I laughed. “But it is said that only 50% of customers are ever seen again.”

He wasn't falling for it this time, no matter how deadpan my delivery.

“And the staff all carry pokers to bludgeon rude customers?” he suggested.

“Not far off,” I grinned and explained. “They stage murder mystery nights once a month, so if we like it here, we could try one sometime.”

“That sounds perfectly gruesome. We should go some evening.”

“I’ll check their schedule.” I promised. “You can’t get near it at Halloween, but it should be ok at any other time of the year.”

Tom looked back at our list. He grimaced at the next one.

“The Royal Flush? What is that?”

“I know, right? I couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be a pub, a gambling hell, or a shop that sells gold toilets!“

“I don’t know, darling. I don’t have high hops for a pub that has the word Flush right in its name.”

“Yeah, I think urine trouble if they can’t come up with a better name for a pub! It’s out of our walking zone, so we’re spared that one, anyway. What about the next one?”

“The Barons Bollocks?” Tom narrowed his eyes at me. “Did you spell that one wrong as well?”

I laughed. “Maybe? It used to be called the Barons Bullock, but some wag went and painted over the original letters on the sign. Every time the landlord fixed it, someone would come round and change it back. Eventually the landlord just gave up and left it that way. I hear their drinks are strong enough to put hair on your chest, and further south!”

“But darling, I like your chest just the way it is!” Tom traced a finger along the neckline of my jumper.

I glanced down. Oops. There was a bit too much of the girls on display for the public. I gave my jumper a tug and Tom sat back looking disappointed.

“Too bad.” I consoled him in mock sorrow. “But I wouldn’t want to get a chest cold.”

“Or a cold chest, I suppose.” Tom brightened and nuzzled my ear. “But I’d be happy to warm them up for you.”

“I’ll let you know,” I said dryly. I shook the pub list at him to get his attention off my boobs.

“The Duchess and Tipple is supposed to have quite a good wine cellar. And they have 2 for 1 House wine at happy hour!”

“Well, that’s an offer we decant refuse!

We finished our drinks at the Queen’s Sceptre and pulled on our coats. I grabbed Tom’s hand, tugging him out the door.

“Come on, Sir Vesa’s is only hops, skip and a jump from here!” I did my best to hop, skip and jump, but it’s not as easy as it sounds.

“Come on!” I urged Tom, who was laughing as he watched me. “Live a little!”

“How far is this pub?” he asked.

“According to the map, we’re only a quarter of a mile away.” I gave him my best side eye. “Yeah, you’re probably too old to skip for that long.”

His eyes narrowed. I was going to pay for that quip later. I couldn't wait!

“Fine.”

And so we ended up going this weird sort of flailing hop scotch dance down the pavement. Do you know how hard it is to hop, skip, and jump while laughing and dodging other, more sedate walkers? For a miracle nobody grumbled at our cavorting like ninnies, some even laughed and joined us for a hop or two! It must be the season.

Laughing and breathless from leaping about playing silly buggers down the pavement, I saw my chance. A narrow space between buildings was dark, a street light shining faintly through at the end of the gap, showing that the space was deserted. It was just the thing!

I tugged his hand and pulled him into the dark, turning and slinging my arm around his neck, reaching up on my toes to lick my way into his mouth.

Fingers ran over my cheek and down my neck, moving around my nape to dig into my hair and return the favour.

Tom braced himself with a hand on the bricks beside my head, brushing his lips teasingly across mine, but I wasn’t having it. I wanted his body against mine, and wrapped my hands in his jacket, pulling to grind against him. Tom chuckled into my mouth.

“Impatient little thing, aren’t you?”

“Oh, you have no idea…”

The warm wool of my coat cushioned me against the frigid brick wall at my back, but I could still feel the chill seeping through. It was bloody cold out there! Tom, however, was warming my front nicely, his body pressing into mine as he took over the kiss, heating me up from the inside. I wanted to put my hands in his hair, but my damned gloves…

Tom lifted his head, searching my face for something. I was about to pull him down for another kiss just to see if he really could make me burst into flames, when he startled and his head whipped toward the entrance of our dark little niche.

I’d been so lost in his kisses that I hadn’t even noticed the chattering and noise of passersby until that moment. A loud burst of laughter echoed around us as a group of men walked past, joking and pushing each other as they passed only a couple of meters from us.

Tom took a step back with a shake of his head and a regretful sigh. Yeah, that place was too public, and I didn’t fancy getting caught doing Tom Hiddleston in a dark alley! I’m not into exhibitionism anyway, and the reminder that we were nearly in public cooled me right off.

I shrugged and grinned ruefully at Tom, standing on my toes for a quick brushing kiss over his lips.

“Baby, it’s cold outside…” I sang. Tom chuckled.

“Then let us repair to somewhere warmer. Perhaps to yon public house?” Tom made a grand sweeping gesture and offered me his arm with a bow.

“Delighted, good Sir!” I laughingly tucked my hand in his elbow and he drew me back onto the busy pavement, nonchalantly merging us into the bustling foot traffic without a ripple. We were only a couple of doors from our destination.

Sir Vesa’s turned out to be surprisingly posh, with menus at the tables and waitstaff to take your order. My tummy rumbled. I immediately determined that I hadn’t had enough chips in my life.

“Oh look! I pointed at the drinks menu. They have Budweiser on tap! I’ve never had any, have you?

Tom made an adorable moue of disgust. “I have. Listen to me well when I tell you, Bud you’d be wieser to choose something else.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Like watered down goat piss!” Tom muttered quietly.

I choked. Eugh! I flipped the menu over, glancing down the list. “Oh, do they have that here?” i feigned innocence.

Tom looked at the menu over my shoulder, pretending to be serious. “Doesn’t look like it. Nope, no goat’s piss. Only the Budweiser.”

“You mean they don’t have real goat’s piss on offer, they only have the artificial stuff in a Budweiser can?? Well, all I can say is that’s a bitter pils to swallow!” I made my most outraged face and looked ‘round for the barman.

Tom slid an arm over my shoulders, holding me firmly in my seat, obviously not trusting me not to leap up and give the barman a piece of my mind on his lack of authentic goat’s piss. Wise man, our Tom.

“Now darling, you mustn’t harass the barman over his stock. You wouldn’t want to booze his ego, would you?”

“Who said anything about egos?” I eyed the man behind the bar. “He looks a stout young man, but I bet I could take ‘im…”

“Darling, I forbid you to take the poor man anywhere!! I’ll nip this in the bud!” And then Tom used his patented distraction technique, snogging me until I forgot what I was saying.

“Mmmm.” I blinked my eyes open and tried to stop my knees wobbling. Well, that was… refreshing. “Um. What was I saying?”

“We were perusing the menu,” Tom said with a sly smile, and I turned my attention back to the menu in my hand. Luckily while page one was the tried and not-so-true international brands, page two made this beer bar worth the visit. Of course the cervesa pun didn’t hurt, either! I don’t think you could have kept us out once we heard that name.

The various beers were described like a posh wine menu that had been turned into beer porn.

For example, Vienna Pale was described as “Based on the classic Vienna Lager style (though technically an ale), and annoyer of a certain type of beer geek, Vienna Pale is a sweet, malty drinking pint, with plenty of Saaz, Citra and Cascade dry-hopping to keep things interesting”.

I giggled over the menu. It might have been a little pretentious, if someone hadn’t come along and dirtied up the prose, but what the hell.

In the end, I chose a Pilot Bucks Peach, of which the menu said ‘Pilot is a Leith microbrewery that specialises in kick-arse brews. Lovingly handcrafted by braw men in kilts, it’ll lay you out with a smile on your face!’

Apparently it came in flavours! I didn’t fancy the mochachino flavoured one, which seemed more like a breakfast beer, if there is such a thing, but the Buck’s Peach sounded good.

Tom opted for one called, with devastating originality, An IPA.

I knew that meant an India Pale Ale. It was described as “An interpretation of the challenge ‘Create a New Scotland IPA’. A mix of malted oats and barley, then dry hopped both during active fermentation, then once fermentation is complete. A juicy, orgasmic starburst of a beer.”

“Tom, you know that it’s just beer, right? I mean it’s a bit much to expect the earth to move from a beer..” I cautioned him, shaking my head at the over-the-top description.

Tom’s lips twitched.. “But I have such high hops for it!”

I rolled my eyes. “Well, I hope it moves you to cheers!” I patted his hand. “If the earth doesn’t move, I’ll move it for you when we get home, dear.”

The beer turned out to be pretty good, but nowhere good enough to move anyone’s earth. Eh, the chips were much better, golden crisp on the outside, lovely, hot, and mealy in the center. With lashings of salt and malt vinegar they were the orgasmic item on the menu!

Tom took the last chip on my plate as I was swallowing the last of my Bucks Peach, which was a good lager, but not peachy at all. My other hand came down on his wrist, pinning it to the table. I carefully set my glass down and narrowed my eyes at him.

The fucker gave me those big puppy dog eyes and I lost all desire to fight him for it. I let go his wrist and gently took the chip from him, brushing his lips tantalizingly with it.

Tom delicately took it between his teeth and nibbled it down to my fingertips, licking the last of the salt away.

I sighed. “The sacrifries I make for you…” and shook my head. Tom chuckled.

“Darling, I always pay my debts.” His hand slid around to the nape of my neck and he leaned in to take my lips in a searing kiss that I felt all the way down to my toes.

“That’s only the down payment, you’ll get the balance when we get home,” he murmured against my lips. I tried not to whimper too loudly when he sat up.

“Right. Get off your heineken, it’s time to go. What’s next?” Suddenly Tom is all business. I blinked, and after a moment to gather myself, got the list from my bag.

“It says here The Lairds Scotch. And it’s only three doors down.”

A quick dash into the cold and we were there.

Tom took my coat, and when he came back I nodded at the bar, turning innocent eyes up at him.

“If you ask the barman to help you find the good scotch does that make him your spirit-guide?”

“Dear god, I hope so,” he groaned. “I’m going to need all the spiritual help I can get after that clanker!”

“Oh look,” I pointed to an upright piano next to the opposite wall to change the subject. I could just imagine people having a sing-song around it in the old days. “You should give us a tune,” I cajoled as we stepped up to the bar.

Tom ordered a Laphroig, but I couldn’t face any more scotch after my last go round. I asked for a G&T.

“It doesn't look like it’s been tuned since the war,” Tom deflected.

“They play it every Sat’de,” an elderly gentleman at the next table interrupted. “Owner’s son is studying music and he or one o’ ‘is friends play for us every weekend.” He nodded judiciously. “They’re not bad.”

Tom did not look thrilled by this news, but I’d seen his eyes linger longingly on the old piano.

“There you go,” I smiled smugly as I sipped my G and T.

“If I’m playing, you’re singing,” he challenged.

Ooh! Things just got interesting. Well, whatever my reluctance to be caught singing in public, if he wanted this, then I would give it to him. But I’d make him work for it!

“Is that right?”

“Of course, the only song I know is Little Drummer Boy,” he said as if that settled it. Bloody hell, I hate that song!

“No,” I shook my head. “There will be no pa-rum-pa-pums! Besides,” I sassed, “Drummers are the twelfth day of Christmas! And I definitely remember your Mum saying something about how you’d regale them with Christmas carols every year until you left for Uni!”

“My darling,” He affected a world weary air. “Do you have any idea how long ago university was for me?”

“Sure, grandpa,” I teased. “But you don’t play something for that many years and just forget it.”

I polished off my G&T, and went to order another from the barman. I’d need more booze to get me up to the piano. Either I sing better when I’ve had a good belt, or I only think I do. But it’s all in the mind, right? Let’s hear is for Dutch Courage!

I brought another scotch for Tom as well, even though he doesn’t actually need any Dutch Courage to perform. He’s in his element. But fair is fair, right? If I need to get tipsy to sing in public, well, he’s just going to have to keep up!

“I’ll tell you one I do remember.” The twinkle in his eye had an evil slant.

“Hmm?” I was cautious. God knows what he’d come up with

“I’ll be Home for Christmas.”

I smiled smugly. He thought he’d stump me? Ha! I know that song. By heart, even. I love that old tune. Dad had a bunch of old LP’s, and an honest-to-god turntable, and he loved to play the old songs at Christmas time. His favourites, and mine as well, were Nat King Cole, and Bing Crosby.

But I decided to be difficult. Anyway, if he thinks I don’t know the tune, he’s in for a surprise! And there’s nothing I like better than surprising Tom.

“Sorry, I don’t know the lyrics.”

“And you say I’m the old one,” He laughed. “Google them on your phone, you numpty!” Tom rolled his eyes and shook his head despairingly.

Yeah, I was sort of hoping he wouldn’t think of that. What the hell, I’d made him work hard enough for it. I relented. Besides, he has to pay for that ‘numpty’ crack!

“Bring it.” I tossed my hair behind my back and straightened my jumper, giving it a little tug downward to distract him.

It’s a song written from the perspective of a soldier in World War II, to his girl back home.”

His eyes closed and I could see him relax, his shoulders went down and his head fell forward, drawing a deep breath in and letting it out slowly. His long fingers carefully picked out the tune as if reminding himself how it went.

His fingers danced over the keys as he launched into the slow, romantic song. It did have a world war two vibe to it. I swear he could have been one of those old fashioned crooners as he began to sing in his smooth baritone. I shouldn’t have been surprised, he’s an amazing mimic, and I saw I Saw the Light.

“I'll be home for Christmas...You can plan on me… Please have snow, and mistletoe...and presents by the tree…”

Tom lifted his chin at me, commanding me to sing with him. I smiled and purposely set my mobile down on the piano, joining in with my alto voice.

“Christmas Eve will find you...Where the love light gleams...I'll be home for Christmas...If only in my dreams…”

The old gent and his friends, as well as the barman joined in and sang the rest with us. They clapped when we’d finished, encouraging Tom to play more.

One of the old gents waved his pint glass at us. “Can you give us Oh Holy Night, lad?

Tom nodded. “If you don’t mind the odd stumble, I might just manage it, “ Tom said modestly. Then he launched into the old church music, the old men singing along with us. Dad had always dragged us to Christmas services, so I was able to keep up.

Where I didn’t remember the verse, I sipped at my G&T and enjoyed the men’s voices winding together. They weren’t half bad! Everybody clapped happily at the end, egging Tom on to play another.

Tom laughingly agreed, sliding me a sly challenging look. He was a picture, his face flushed with exhilaration and happiness. It’s a good look on him. And it melts my knickers!

“Chestnuts roasting on an open fire…” There went that challenging eyebrow. I wrinkled my nose at him and joined in.

“Jack Frost nipping at your toes...Yuletide carols being sung by a choir...And folks dressed up like Eskimos…”

The old gents were silent, not knowing the lyrics, I suppose. So we gave them a duet. Dad would have been proud.

When we’d finished and the last lingering note faded the gents applauded and called compliments, offering us another round, which we both declined. But we gave them Auld Lang Syne for an encore, and they all joined in. Tom laughingly refused requests for more.

“I’d better get back to my date, or there won’t be any kisses for me tonight!” he kidded. “And she’s ever so much better looking than you lot! Thanks for letting me play your piano!”

I tend to forget that Tom is such a born performer until moments like that. Watching him perform for an audience is like watching a rose bloom on fast forward; all that is hidden quietly away burst into full colour, and everyone nearby just basks in it.

When we went to finish our drinks back at our table, I slid into his lap, nuzzling his hair and wrapping my arms around him wordlessly. He is so precious to me, and I’m not making a Lord of the Rings joke.

At the Duchess and Tipple Tom made me drink a big glass of water after I called it the Duchess and Nipple, and couldn’t stop giggling. We agreed it was time for dinner.

“How about the Dukes Drunk Ducks? That’s not too far from here.”

“The what?”

“Dukes Drunk Ducks. It’s an old legend. It used to be called The Dukes Duck. One day the landlady came down to find all her ducks dead. Being a practical sort, she shrugged and put duck on the menu for that night. But as she was preparing them to cook, they woke up! Apparently they were only drunk and passed out after drinking from a leaking barrel of ale, not dead, and the name kind of stuck.”

“Yeah, okay, they sound like ducks I’d want to know.”

“I haven't been there for a few years but they used to do good food too.”

I checked my watch. “We do need something to soak up the alcohol,” I agreed. That and the mile long walk there should help sober us up enough to finish the crawl, I mean ‘Leap’, without being totally blotto. A good night out is no fun if you can’t remember it the next day!

“We’d best have a pee before we leave,” Tom cautioned.

“Good idea.” Yeah, a mile long walk with crossed legs didn't sound like much fun.

***

The Drunk Duck took its name and theme very seriously. Every wall was adorned with pictures of ducks, including duck portraits of ducks in Victorian clothing, some in military uniforms with high ranking titles.

Mr Firequacker, Sir Quacks a Lot, and Admiral Moby Duck were among my favorite names, although the fanged duck in a black cape titled Count Quackula topped my fav list.

“I’m surprised they don’t have duck a l'orange,” I said.

“You don’t kill your namesake,” Tom said with mock shock, clutching his chest.

“I don’t care how much I like this place, I am not giving up crispy duck pancakes with hoisin sauce. Not even if I can never look another duck in the eye again.”

Tom Laughed as the waiter set our plates in front of us, wished us bon appetit, and bustled off. I smiled at Tom over my Shepherds Pie and he smiled fondly back, and we both took a bite.

“It’s pretty good stuff, this.” I scooped a bit more onto the back of my fork.

“Not as good as yours, though.”

“Well, cheers!” I lifted my glass of wine and tilted my glass to him.

“Mm. Pudding was even better, as I recall.” Tom purred, sending shivers down my spine. My brow furrowed. I didn’t remember any pudding.

“What pudding ? We drank beer and watched Lawrence Llewellyn-Bowen destroy some poor sod’s house!”

Tom wiped his mouth with his serviette and grinned wickedly.

“Oh yes! I distinctly remember I had a couple of lovely frozen bombes with cherries on top.” Tom’s eyes fell to the v-neck of my jumper, and I felt my face warm.

“Uh huh. Icy what you did there.”

We each nursed only one glass of wine during the meal, but we ordered water too and stayed for desert. I was feeling almost sober as we left, but I could do with the walk to the next bar to help the food digest.

“Where to?” Tom asked as we stepped out the door.

“Oh, um…” I felt my pockets but couldn’t find the list. “The Bloody Bits of Barons or something?”

“Do you mean The Barron’s Bollocks?”

“That’s the one. But I think my name is better.”

“Definitely more memorable, darling,” Tom piped up. “And rather bloodthirsty. If I ever become a publican I shall definitely call my establishment The Baron’s Bollocks.” He discretely hid a belch behind his hand.

God, I adored that cut glass accent of his. He could say absolutely ridiculous things like that and still sound like a sexy toff. It wasn't fair! I was about 50% sure I was drooling by now, and I’m absolutely certain that my mascara has migrated south since I put it on before we left. Tom meanwhile just had that sexy, tousled look about him. All he needs is some lipstick. Which I was happy to provide! I grabbed his chin and snogged him hard. Leaning back, I surveyed him. Damn, that shade looks as good on him as it does on me.

I eventually found my list in a pocket I was sure I’d checked three times already.

I slipped my arm through Tom’s and leaned my head on his shoulder, sighing contentedly as we strolled along.

“You seem happy.” Tom noted.

“Mmm,” I wrapped my other arm around his too.

“If I’d known feeding you was all it took to tame the beast, I’d have tried it months ago,” he laughed.

The idea of having been tamed made me giggle. Okay, maybe I wasn't quite as sober as I felt, but I was feeling very happy right now, even if I was freezing my metaphorical bollocks off.

“Feeding’s not the only thing that tames me,” I purred, but the effect was rather ruined when I slipped on a patch of ice. Luckily Tom was there to catch me up. I might have hammed it up a bit.

“We still have three more pubs to get to!” Tom groaned, scrubbing at his face to wake himself up

“No, two more!” I corrected.

“Three!”

“Look, mister, this is my day and if you keep arguing, it’ll be four.” I crossed my arms and glared at him. We’d been arguing about whether it was Ten or Eleven Lords a Leaping all evening. Tom liked the alliteration, the drunk posh idiot. Alliteration! I ask you!

“But, that’s brewtal! I’m sure-”

“Five.”

“Alright! Okay, you win! Please don't make me go to five more pubs! We’ll be drunk as Lords until Easter!”

“Now see how much easier it is when you agree with me?” I smiled my victory and batted my eyelashes.

“Well the alliteration is still better with Eleven Lords a Leaping,” he grumbled, “but if you make us go to 13 pubs neither of us will be having much fun after! So, what’s it going to be?

“Fine, we can skip the Duke of Marlborough. Never liked his ciggies anyway.” I drew a rather drunken line through the name, and Tom took it from me, stuffing it in his pocket.

Tom grinned, pleased to have won. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you later.”

“Oh yes you will!! What’s next?” I patted my pockets again. Wait. Now Tom had my list as well! But he had an excellent memory. Well, he did when he wasn't drunk. I reached for his pocket to retrieve the list of pubs, but he wasn’t having it. After tussling with him for a minute I gave up and tried for a stern expression.

“Hang on, this is my game! I make the rules.” I tilted my head, thinking hard. “It is my game, right?”

Tom snickered into his pint of cider. “You, my darling, are drunk.”

“You wouldn't exactly pass a breathalyser either, buddy! Better still, I’d like to see you do those American tests, where you walk heel to toe and touch your finger to your nose!” I swayed as I made my point. What was it again?

“I’d rather touch your nose,” Tom smouldered as he leaned in close, his nose inches from mine.

I shook my head as if shaking off a stupor. “Hey, no fair using The Smoulder to distract me!” I paused, trying to puzzle out where I was going with this. “Um, what were you distracting me from, anyway?”

“Hell if I know.”

“My good sir, you are snockered!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Not!”

“Too!”

“That’s the way to do it,” the barman said with a chuckle as he wiped down the neighbouring table.

“Sorry?” Tom asked.

“Am not, are too?” he imitated them. “I thought you were doing pantomime. ‘Tis the season, right?”

“‘That’s the way to do it’ is Punch and Judy,” I corrected him.

“Oh no it isn’t,” the barman teased.

“Oh yes it is!”

“This could go on for a while and I need to pee.” Tom drained the rest of his cider before he stood up and headed for the toilets. “Behave yourself!” he shot over his shoulder as he ambled away.

“Right, onward to the next bacchanalia! The Bloody Queen Mary was it?”

I pulled the list from my pocket and unfolded it. “Yes.”

We staggered out into the cold night air. I breathed deeply, letting it sober me up a little.

Not that I was roaring drunk. Not quite. Not yet. This next one was our second to last pub of the night though, and we were only having one each. Two more couldn't hurt too much, right?

Down for the Count was our final pub of the night and I held up my glass of sherry and giggled. I was definitely getting tiddly. And naughty. “Here’s to every Tom’s Dick and Sherry!”

“That, my dear, was a toastament to bad puns! And who’s this Sherry bird, anyway?” Tom squinted at me. “You aren’t setting up a threesome are you?”

“No fear,” I snickered, “I don’t think Tom’s dick would be up to the job after all this!” I waved my glass around, spilling it over the rim.

Tom grinned. “Apparently Sherry is sloshed as well!”

I snickered and made a small noise of annoyance at the sherry trailing down my wrist, glancing around for something to wipe it off, but there were only glasses and coasters on the small table.

Tom tisked, taking my glass from me and lifting my hand to his mouth. “May I?” The fucking smoulder was back.

“Be my guest.” My voice had gone all breathy, and I swallowed hard as his tongue came out and delicately licked the trickle of sherry from my wrist to my fingers.

Hot blue eyes stared into mine as he sucked a finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue around each one to clean the sticky sherry from my fingers.

I breathed out hard, squirming in my seat to ease the need building below as he left a kiss in my palm.

“Mmm. Sherry tastes sweet, but you taste sweeter…”

“I’ll call us a cab,”

It started to snow on our way home in the cab, just light flurries at first, and then big, fat flakes drifting down out of the sky just as we were climbing out of the cab in front of Tom’s.

The cab left, and Tom wrapped his arms around me, turning my back to his front, and setting his cheek next to mine. We stood on his top step, tranquilly watching the snow fall , peacefully muffling the city noises all around us, listening to each other’s breathing as it fogged in the cold air.

Tom was warm at my back and I leaned against him, wrapping my own arms over his, and just simply enjoying the quiet moments.

Eventually I realised that I needed to pee. With that came the awareness that my feet were freezing in their trainers, and a headache was beginning to bloom behind my eyes.

I turned my head back and up, kissing Tom’s cool lips for a long luxurious moment.

I whispered in his ear, “I really need to pee.”

He didn’t laugh, he simply nodded and fished his keys out of his pocket and let us in. Tom took my coat as I kicked my trainers off and padded through the dark house to the loo.

I gasped when I flipped the switch, light stabbing through my eyes and waking my incipient headache. I quickly flipped the light off, deciding that there were some things that I was perfectly capable of doing in the dark.

I did what I needed to do and had a quick wash before I opened the door and found Tom leaning on the wall opposite, with two bottles of water and a bottle of paracetamol crooked in his elbow against his chest.

He took my hand and quietly drew me up the stairs, undressed me, and sat me on the bed. Setting down his burden, he twisted the cap off a bottle of cold water and handed it to me, quickly doing the same for himself.

“One more drink, darling. What shall we drink to?”

“Don’t know, don’t care!”

“That’s good enough!”

He tapped his water bottle against mine and we both drank thirstily. I moaned at the cool liquid sliding down my throat, it felt so good.

“Nothing like copious amounts of alcohol to dry you out.” Tom set his half empty bottle down and opened the paracetamol, tapping two out on his palm and offering them to me.

I’m nobody’s fool, I took the damn pills even though I detest swallowing them. If I didn’t I knew I’d be sorry in the morning.

I fell back on the bed with a groan. Tom settled me under the blankets, chuckling and ignoring my uncoordinated attempt to do it. I gave up and let him man handle me because I really was tired.

Stripping off as he made his way a little carefully into the ensuite, I listened drowsily to the homey sound of Tom humming to himself as he did whatever. I think it might have been a bit of the Nutcracker. My eyes were drifting shut on the slightly swaying bed, feeling warm and sleepy.

Tom lifted the blankets and slid in next to me, wrapping around me and dropping a kiss below my ear.

I woke some time before dawn with Tom’s warm body spooned around me from behind, and my bloody phone ringing far too loudly.

14 notes · View notes