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“I don’t understand what Alfie sees in him,” Jessie mutters as she crushes another clove of garlic with the side of the knife and starts mincing. “It’s a fucking mystery how he’s put up with him for over eight years.”
“Hey, that’s still my brother you’re talking about,” Ada says, and while she playfully bumps her hip against Jessie’s where she stands beside her cutting tomatoes for the salad, there’s still a hint of sharpness in her voice.
“I just mean that Alfie’s this funny, outgoing, warm person and Tommy’s… Tommy,” she says, scraping the garlic into the olive oil in the pan.
“It just takes some time for him to open up to new people,” Ada says, moving on to cut an avocado. “And you can’t fault him for not talking as much as Alfie, because no one can do that.”
“We’ve been together an entire year, I don’t think I should still qualify as a ‘new person’.”
“Well, in his world, you do. And he does like you, you two just don’t operate on the same wavelength.”
Jessie pours wine into the pan and lowers the heat to let the pasta sauce simmer. She doesn’t believe Ada for a second. But she also can’t tell her what she really thinks: that her brother is a stuck up, arrogant, ice-queen. Of course she could never say that. Well, her closest friends have heard it of course, after she’s been forced to spend any time at all around him, but she knows how much Ada loves her brother -despite her complaints both to his face and to Jessie. And for her girlfriend’s sake, she does her best to hide her contempt when Tommy’s around. Thankfully his husband is a delight, and talks enough for the two of them. On a good day, she can forget Tommy’s even there.
“Be nice to him,” Ada says. “There’s been a lot to deal with at work-“ Work, yeah right. Jessie knows what kind of business operation the Shelbys run. Tommy’s latest little venture into the exclusive stables and facilities for race-horses is clearly just another front. Ada doesn’t notice her frown and continues, “I’ve had to basically resort to threats to get him to come tonight at all, but I really think it’d be good for him to socialize. So please try to go easy on him.”
“Don’t I always?” Jessie says with an angelic smile. Ada rolls her eyes but still kisses her cheek in passing as she goes over to the cupboard to take out the wine glasses. With the main course under control, Jessie takes out her phone and starts searching through her open tabs. “I’ll take care of desert if you want to have that shower you’ve been planning for the past two hours,” she tells Ada, finally finding the recipe. A chocolate mousse Ada had at a friend’s house and is now insisting is ‘the best thing you could ever possibly eat’.
“Great. I can set the table,” Ada says and flashes that smile she loves so much, and Jessie just has to kiss her when she passes the stove on her way to the bathroom. Then she starts lining up the ingredients on the counter and Ada disappears through the flat.
“Just remember to leave out the hazelnuts, May says it works just as well without them,” she calls. Jessie imagines her paused on the threshold to the bathroom.
“Of course,” she calls back and makes sure to keep every possible sign of passive aggression out of her tone. Hopefully her reply didn’t air on the side of ‘too cheerful’. Ada’s reminded her twice already. Tommy and his fucking food-issues. Ada’s always frustratingly vague about why exactly they need to adhere to his various little whims, why he can or can’t eat something. Not that Tommy would ever outright complain if they’ve happened to cook something that doesn’t appease him, she’ll give him that, but he’ll cut it into tiny pieces that he barely eats half off. The rest he simply moves around the plate. Ada says it’s because he’s got ‘some issues’. But Jessie’s fairly certain it’s either: a, because he likes to be a pain in the arse, b, he enjoys the attention and knowing someone’s bent over backwards to cater to him, c, it all comes down to some kind of diet he’s on to keep that trim figure. Or d, all of the above. Granted, Ada’s told him he is in fact allergic to hazelnuts, but Jessie is one hundred percent sure that’s just yet another way for Tommy to control people around him and generally be a bother. Considering how many other things he just won’t eat and isn’t allergic to.
Too late, she realizes she’s been too caught up in her own increasingly sour mood to notice that she’s begun chopping chocolate on the same cutting board as the nuts, which she wasn’t even supposed to cut in the first place. Cursing under her breath she checks the pantry to see if there’s more, but of course there’s none. Then and there she makes the executive decision that fuck this, she’s not running out to buy more simply because of Ada’s asshole brother, who, by the way, would never even thank her and might not even eat his desert. So she moves on to melting the chocolate and whipping up the mouse, tossing the hazelnuts. That’ll have to do.
…
“I don’t understand why Ada keeps fucking inviting us to these things,” Tommy mutters surly as he adjusts the collar on the rust-colored shirt before tucking it into the high waisted slacks. Ones that Alfie of course has noted hug his waist perfectly. As always with Tommy, it’s an outfit that looks effortless but absolutely isn’t. Alfie did his level best to convince him to take the sheer shirt he wore to that gallery opening last week, but Tommy had firmly told him it would be ‘inappropriate attire to a dinner at someone’s house’. Alfie on the other hand had countered with his firm stance that Tommy should wear solely sheer shirts, if only for his benefit. At that, Tommy had rolled his eyes. Though Alfie is already -in his head- listing the people he could contact in order to create more occasions where a sheer shirt would be appropriate attire (according to Tommy: gallery openings, movie premiers, possibly a premiere at a one of the more modern theatres. Alfie is going to use his wide contact net to make it happen).
Of course, Tommy looks stunning in anything, so he takes a long moment to admire him in the mirror as he finishes buttoning his own less fashion-forward, black shirt. And realizes he’s forgotten to respond to Tommy’s comment when he notices Tommy’s sour expression.
He goes up to him and wraps his arms around him from behind, kissing his temple.
“She invites us because I’m a delight to be around, and fun at parties,” he says. “It’s a burden and a curse, but what can you do?”
“You could just go by yourself,” Tommy says and meets his gaze through the glass in the mirror. “It’s you they actually want to hang out with. Jessie fucking hate me.”
“Well you’re not all that fond of her either, are you, treacle?” Alfie says and rests his chin on Tommy’s shoulder, but Tommy squirms out of his grip and walks over to the dresser to find a pair of socks. He’s so tense that Alfie can see it just from the way he holds himself.
New attempt, then.
Tommy’s shoulders are stiff as he puts his hands on them and he keeps staring down into the drawer, as if the perfect socks are incredibly hard to find.
“Ada wants you there, you know that. And then it’s just Lizzie, Ruth, James and Victor. Yeah? Not too many people, only ones you’ve met before, and they all like you.”
“They really don’t,” Tommy huffs, picks out a pair of black socks and closes the drawer with unnecessary force. But when he tries to walk away again, Alfie wraps him up in a tight hug from behind. Noses at the long curls on the top of his head, the ones that insist on falling over his eyes.
“This is all in your head, sweetheart. None of those people hate you, I promise you that.”
“I don’t care that they-” Tommy snaps but Alfie cuts him off before he can continue, “And you’ve got me there. If it gets to be too much, just sit there and look pretty and I’ll make sure to talk enough for the both of us. Then we can go home early and I’ll fuck all of these stupid ideas right out of your head.”
Finally, something akin to a smile crosses Tommy’s face and Alfie spins him around and kisses him to cement it there. He knows Tommy often fails to see even the slightest of redeeming qualities in himself. And firmly seems to believe that everyone who isn’t Alfie at best barely tolerates him and at worst just despises him. The poor self-image doesn’t stretch to business practices, where Tommy moves with unsurpassed ease, shaking hands and charming anyone who needs charming to get where he wants to be. But when it comes to something as simple as a dinner party at his sister’s house full of people who are decidedly not potential business partners, he’s suddenly full of self-doubt.
“Now finish getting ready, the car will be here in a moment. Sooner we are there, the sooner we can go home.” Alfie says, and smacks Tommy’s arse for good measure, narrowly avoiding his hand as he makes a swipe for his arm.
…
Two hours later, they’re truly in the thick of it.
It’s a nice dinner, it really is. Tommy, bless him, is showing his best side, even looking engaged as Ruth tells him about her latest play. And Alfie is right in his element with a captive audience which hangs onto his every word. These happen to be people who find his particular sense of humor charming. But what really matters is that as he wraps up yet another story that causes uproarious laughter to the point where James almost sprays wine all over the table, Tommy looks at him like he hangs the fucking moon and stars, and well that just makes his heart glow, doesn’t it? The food is excellent too. Ada has clearly put effort into the menu, and he sends her a grateful look when he sees that she’s given Tommy a smaller portion of the pasta. Not enough to truly be noticeable to anyone. But Alfie notices. And knowing Ada she’s planned the meal with Tommy’s little ‘quirks’ -aka debilitating fucking issues with everything from texture to the sound something makes as you chew it- in mind. He needs to remind Tommy of that when they get home, point out that’s how much his sister cares for him.
They get to desert with no incidents -Jessie and Tommy are being downright civil to each other, imagine that. Though the wine has certainly helped. Ada sets down bowls of some sort of mousse in front of them, along with a cup of coffee. Alfie takes a sip, in the middle of recounting a trip to Norway to the table while they all start eating. He notes that Tommy dutifully starts taking very small bites of his portion. Good. That’s good. He always feels safest when he knows how much Tommy has or hasn’t eaten. Though Alfie himself is so preoccupied with the story that his own spoon just hovers somewhere above his bowl.
“-and there we were, lost in Oslo, and of course it starts raining, because it’s always raining there, innit, and I, being the gentleman that I am, sacrificed my coat to keep Tommy somewhat dry, which I of course did happily-“
He looks to Tommy at that particular part of the story, only to find him swallowing thickly with an increasingly worrying pallor to his face. He furrows his brow, which is usually enough for Tommy to understand that he’s asking if he’s okay. Now, Tommy just stares straight ahead with a glassy sheen over his eyes.
The table is quiet around them, still caught in the story, until they notice where Alfie’s gaze has turned.
“Tommy, are you alright?” James asks. Tommy clears his throat, his already pale face growing nearly white.
“Excuse me for a moment,” he says and stands using the table for support. Takes one step before he wavers on the spot and collapses to resounding gasps and little cries from the table. Alfie throws himself out of his chair and down next to him, grabbing him by the shoulder.
“Tommy, sweetheart are-“ the rest of the question dies in his throat because he recognizes the symptoms straight away: the rapidly draining colour of his skin, the cold sweat, the wheezing sound his breaths make.
“Are you having a reaction?” he asks, despite knowing the answer, and Tommy nods, grasping at his throat and then at Alfie’s arm instead, clutching it desperately.
“I don’t have- I don’t-“ he gasps. Alfie pulls him up to lean against his chest to ease his breathing.
“Well, I do,” he says and then to Ada. “EpiPen, in my coat pocket. And someone call a fucking ambulance.”
Ada disappears in a flash and Lizzie is the next to break from her stupor and she pulls out her cellphone as Ada comes running with the two EpiPens. In his arms, Tommy has already begun to grow limp, eyes fluttering closed as he struggles to breathe through his rapidly closing throat. Alfie puts the first EpiPen in place and injects it into his thigh, holding it for a second before putting it aside and massaging Tommy’s leg.
“It’s going to be okay, love,” he says firmly. “Yeah? We’ll get an ambulance here in no time.”
Tommy nods, fingers clenching into his shirt sleeve.
When Lizzie starts talking into the phone, her voice is a tad too shrill and loud, “Yes, hi, we need an ambulance to 530 Springfield road, someone’s- I think it’s some kind of allergic reaction.”
Alfie reaches out with the arm Tommy isn’t clinging to. “Give me the phone,” he says and Lizzie quickly obeys. He holds it against his ear with his shoulder, rubbing soothing circles over Tommy’s chest. “We’ve got someone with anaphylactic shock. I’ve administered an EpiPen, but he’s struggling to breathe and his blood pressure is way down because he collapsed when he stood up.”
“An ambulance is already on the way,” the man on the other end says calmly. “Is the person responsive?”
“Barely. I know how to handle this, just make sure the ambulance fucking gets here,” Alfie says and hands the phone back to Lizzie to fully focus on Tommy. Clutching the phone in a white knuckled grip, Lizzie hums and responds in clipped sentences mostly consisting of yes and no, eying Tommy worriedly. Meanwhile, the others just remain stood around the table, having flown to their feet but then frozen there.
“Did you put hazelnut in the desert, Jessie?” Ada asks and all eyes turn to Jessie, who’s almost as pale as Tommy as she
“No, no, but I- I forgot, I just used the same chopping board, I didn’t think-“
Alfie doesn’t even feel rage at her admission, doesn’t have the ability to feel fucking anything besides the ice-cold fear because Tommy’s breaths are still coming in wheezes, despite the shot of adrenaline. He’ll need the second EpiPen too, Alfie can already tell it’s a bad one.
“Is there anything we can do?” James asks, wringing hands. Victor puts a hand on his back, looking a bit green around the gills.
“How about we give them some space,” Ada says and herds the guests towards the kitchen. “James and Victor, you can go downstairs and make sure the paramedics can get in. Jessie, why don’t you go to the kitchen with Ruth?”
“I’m so sorry, I- I didn’t-“
“I know,” Ada says, and ushers them out the door. She brings a blanket from the sofa on her way back, laying it over Tommy’s shivering form.
“They want to know if he’s improved from the shot,” Lizzie says, still seated by the table, phone in hand.
“Kept it from getting any worse, but he’s not doing good, is he,” Alfie says. Tommy squirms weakly in his grip, eyes suddenly growing wide with panic as a shallow breath catches fully in his throat. Alfie kisses his temple.
“I know, love, I know, it’ll be okay,” he tells him. “You just need to hold on for a few minutes.”
Tommy arches his neck, presses his head back against his chest, another stifled gasp escaping him. Alfie smooths his hair back from his clammy forehead.
“We’re just going to take it one second at a time, love.”
And that’s what they do. Take it one second at a time. Lizzie stays on the phone, but stops asking questions, thankfully, updating the responder quietly but without involving Alfie more than necessary to let him focus on holding Tommy, keeping him as calm as possible, shushing and stroking his hair and breathing in and out slowly to help guide him. Ada is next to them, alternating between sitting and pacing, looking out the window anxiously and then to her brother.
Five minutes later, Alfie administers a second EpiPen and fucking prays the ambulance will get here soon, because Tommy is declining quickly even with the medication in his system. It should be okay, he knows that. They’re in the middle of London, he’s done everything right, this should be okay.
This should be okay.
But after just another minute, Tommy has gone completely limp in his arms. His breathing is shallow and only comes in tiny little gasps, his eyes falling shut despite Alfie’s best attempts at keeping his attention, keeping him awake. He tries to swallow his heart back into his chest where it belongs but the fear has wrapped an iron band around his chest.
“Where is that fucking ambulance!” Ada exclaims and starts pacing again, and as if on que, they hear the blessed sound of sirens.
…
Tommy’s heart stops in the ambulance. Alfie doesn’t find out until later, when his husband is already safe and sound in a hospital bed and under close observation, but well on his way to recovery. The doctor tells him as he meets him in the waiting room. Says he did a good job, that he did everything right. And still, Tommy’s heart fucking stopped in the ambulance. Not for long. But it’s enough to send Alfie into the nearest chair, knees giving up underneath him. Ada seats herself in the chair next to him, silent and pale with her phone clenched tightly in her hand. It lights up every other second as yet another member of the Shelby clan sends a text. And when Polly’s name appears on the screen, indicating a call, she swipes her thumb across the phone to answer, squeezing Alfie’s shoulder in passing as she goes to speak with her aunt.
“I know this is a very frightening experience,” the doctor says. “But I can assure you your husband will make a full recovery. As I said, you did everything right.”
Alfie nods. Thinks he does anyway. Can’t fully feel his neck or head or much of anything.
“I’d like to see him,” he says.
“He’s not awake yet, and still in the ICU for observation We had to sedate him in order to properly administer a breathing tube. But it shouldn’t be too long. Give it an hour or so. One of the nurses will let you know when we’ve moved him to a private room.”
He nods again. Holds out a hand that the doctor accepts.
“Thank you, doctor.”
“Just doing my job, mister Solomons. But of course nothing makes me happier than when I can give some good news.”
Not an hour later he’s sat next to Tommy’s hospital bed. Tommy is exhausted and pale but undeniably alive and somewhat well, and Alfie currently has the privilege of watching him drink a packet of juice through a straw that’s been forced upon him (and that’s after he’s been denied a cigarette). Which just so happens to be the single most adorable thing he’s seen. And it gives him a moment to gather himself. Let it sink in that Tommy is indeed fine. He reaches out and takes his hand. Rubs little circles over his knuckles.
It’s been a long time since anything like this happened, so long that he’d nearly forgotten how bad it can get. Last time was incredibly undramatic. At some restaurant, where a new server had mixed up the plates, and Tommy had only taken one of his usual tiny bites before realizing the mistake and spitting out the food in his napkin. Then he’d calmly taken out the EpiPen and given himself a shot without blinking an eye, and just as calmly told a petrified Alfie they needed to call an ambulance. Even kept Alfie from sending a fucking hitman after the poor server afterwards.
Alfie promises himself never to forget just how quickly things can go to hell. And that he can never go anywhere without Tommy’s EpiPens again.
A knock on the door breaks him from his thoughts and Ada enters, her entire face lighting up when she sees Tommy.
“Thank God you’re okay. Polly would’ve killed me otherwise,” she says as she closes the door behind her. “Already gave me an earful because I didn’t double check that desert. Granted I think it was warranted.”
“It’s fine,” Tommy says, voice still a bit raspy.
“No, it really isn’t” Ada says and gives him a very gentle hug, as if she’s afraid he might break, and seats herself opposite Alfie on a stool.
“How’s Jessie?” Tommy asks and his sister blinks in surprise she can’t hide before straightening her features again.
“Absolutely devastated. I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive herself.”
“Don’t know if I will,” Alfie mutters and Tommy squeezes his hand.
“She didn’t do it on purpose.”
“But she can’t make mistakes like that,” Ada says, an angry flush creeping up her cheeks. “And she wouldn’t have if she’d actually- I should’ve made it clear how bad it gets. But I thought she’d take my word for it, that if I tell her you’re allergic, that means you’re fucking allergic and she needs to actually pay attention to what she does in the kitchen.”
“Ada-“
“You could’ve died. You nearly did, because she didn’t care enough to-“
“Ada, these things happen,” Tommy says, finally gaining his sister attention. “It was just a mistake.”
Ada presses her lips together, taking a shaky breath through her nose. Nods tightly after a moment.
Tommy sinks a bit deeper into the pillows. Alfie takes the tilting juice box out of his hand and sets it aside. Runs his hand over his head and the soft curls as Tommy stifles a yawn.
“You’re tired,” Ada says and gets up, clearing her throat as she wipes at her eyes. “I’ll let you get some rest. Polly said she’d come by in the morning.”
Tommy hums and blinks slowly, struggling to keep his eyes open. Ada makes her way to the door when he mumbles, “Ada?”
She pauses on the threshold.
“Tell Jessie it’s fine.”
Ada gives him a faint smile as she closes the door.
“Very generous of you,” Alfie says and continues stroking Tommy’s hair. “Which is good because I’m pissed enough for the both of us.”
“I don’t need Ada to be angry with Jessie for my sake.”
Despite having a different opinion on that matter, Alfie decides to not push it. Because Tommy is exhausted and if he doesn’t want to talk about the subject, fair enough. He at least deserves some peace and quiet. Yawning, Tommy looks up at him through his lashes, shifting slightly on the mattress. Only takes a second for Alfie to catch on. Eight years of marriage will do that.
“Scoot over a bit, treacle,” he says as he takes off his boots along with the blue plastic covers. Shuffling a little to the side, Tommy gives him space to lie down next to him and then repositions his head on the offered arm with a little pleased sigh. Alfie tucks him close against his side and presses a kiss into his hair. Not a minute later, Tommy’s asleep.