DELILAH BROUGHT HER GLASS OF WHISKEY TO HER LIPS, RUNNING HER TONGUE OVER THE BOTTOM ONE AS SHE TURNED TO STARE AT MILO'S FACE. It had been less than an hour since she stepped into the pub, escorted by Angelo and her best friend, and since the boys had settled by the counter, their elbows resting on the bar, they had started an argument over who had the biggest dick — or something like that. To be fair, Delilah only interjected when the debate diverted towards their houses or empires, stating that it was off-limits.

She hadn't dared to get out of her bed for three whole days after the IRA incident. The bruises around her neck had faded slightly, only leaving pale blue marks around her neck. John and Arthur had tried to reach out to her by visiting a few times while she was away, only to be sent off by her brother, who was trying to distract them from his sister. She had finally gathered herself when Angelo himself walked into her room, worry wrinkling his forehead, pleading her to get well.

Delilah snapped back into reality when Grace moved in front of her, a kind smile parting her lips. Her wavy blond tresses were falling around her shoulders as her crimson dress gave life to her eyes.

"What can I get you?"

"Three whiskeys, please," the redhead ordered with a smile of her own.

Delilah slid her hand into her coat pocket, exiting a few coins and placing them on the polished counter. As soon as Grace outstretched her hand towards the money, a large hand roughly grabbed her shoulder and pulled her body right into a hard chest, a hand reaching towards Angelo to ruffle his hair.

"Since when do you pay for your fuckin' drinks, Sunflower?" Arthur's voice beamed as Grace hesitantly placed the glass in front of them, her eyes falling on the coins.

"Well, not just mine," Delilah responded as she turned around slightly to face Arthur. "Angelo's and Milo's one as well. Am I not allowed to pay for a drink if I want to?"

John made his way behind Delilah, his body slightly bumping into hers as she looked at him.

"Okay, now, that really looks like an ambush," the redhead stated as John loosely wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Milo, eh?"

Delilah didn't notice when the boys' eyes fell on her for an explanation, too busy motioning for Grace to take the coins away before they could catch Arthur's attention away. When she was done, she looked around her, the four pair of eyes focused on her taking her back to the conversation.

"Oh, yes!" she exclaimed with a giggle. "Milo is my childhood best friend. My father hired him for our protection and to be our men's spokesperson in case they'd have something to tell us. Milo, this is Arthur and John Shelby, Peaky Blinders and friends."

"For protection?" Arthur repeated with a snort as he glanced at his brother beside him.

"More like a guardian angel, really," Milo interjected, unable to repress his sarcastic comments.

Delilah rolled her eyes and slapped his arm reproachfully as Arthur burst out laughing, hitting the redhead's shoulder.

"And you're having a party without us?" John asked with a raised eyebrow, placing his signature toothpick between his lips.

"Johnny darling, it's eleven in the morning," Delilah replied with a chuckle as she stared at her nails for a second. "I knew you'd show up anyway. Where's your brother?"

"Here," Arthur responded with a playful smirk.

"No, your other brother."

"Well, he's here," John responded while faking a confused expression, one of his fingers pointing at himself as he looked at everyone around them.

"You two are hopeless," Delilah sighed as Arthur wrapped his arm around her shoulders and brought her to his side with a laugh.

Arthur ordered a bottle of whiskey, which was placed in front of him instantly, and they moved to the snug, the five of them rushing into the room. Delilah got the first seat at the red booth, quickly followed by John. They pushed the door closed, leaving a slight gap between the door and the frame, in case Thomas would show up, and before Delilah noticed it, Milo sat down beside her, where Thomas was usually sitting. Silence fell on the room as they all stared at him with raised eyebrows, once again requiring Delilah's involvement.

"We don't sit here," Delilah said bluntly, exiting her pack of cigarettes from her coat along with her matches.

"How so?" Milo asked as he nervously looked around the room, feeling quite vulnerable under their gazes.

"Well," Delilah started as the snug door swung open, revealing Thomas Shelby entering the room, "that's the reason why. Now move."

Milo did as he was told, taking a chair and sitting next to Angelo, the young man smirking slightly at Milo's discomfort. Delilah brought a cigarette to her lips, striking a match that lit up her green eyes, the flame dancing in her orbs as she approached it to the end of the cancer stick and took a drag.

Delilah hadn't talked to Thomas since the slaughter night. She was barely able to talk to her brother, and Thomas never came anyway. She had expected it: what was there to say? They had killed people, together, and had stayed for at least two hours in silence, cleaning the mess they had left behind. In her heart, she had felt no remorse for she still believed she had done what was right; it was her or this man. He hadn't tried anything to hurt her, but she knew these people too well: they were snakes. No wonder Campbell had done such a great job in Belfast, he was one of them, after all. A fucking discreet snake that was crawling through their skin before he tore it apart with a sharpened knife.

The redhead inhaled deeply, holding her cigarette between two fingers as she brought her glass of amber whiskey to her lips. She took a sip and placed the glass down on the table once again. Noticing the heavy silence filling the room, Delilah looked around her, only to find all the men staring at her once again.

"What now?" she groaned, running her left hand on her face nervously. "Did I forget to introduce someone again?"

John cleared his throat before he leaned closer to the table, his palm flat on the wooden surface. Angelo looked away from his sister as Arthur dived his eyes in his glass, unable to keep his eyes on her any longer.

"As your friend, I'm gonna address the fuckin' elephant in the fuckin' room," John started. "What happened to you? Don't act all confused, your collar don't hide 'em."

Delilah pursed her lips before she downed the remaining whiskey in her glass, slamming it against the table when she was done. She looked at every face before she leaned back into the booth, tilting her head to the side.

"Four days ago, I was supposed to hold a meeting with Thomas here," she started, nervously pulling at her fingers. "But Polly took me to Ada's flat, and I was late, so I went to my men instead. We had our meeting, and while we were discussing Milo's fucking bullshit, they came. They attacked us."

John frowned as Arthur cleared his throat. Thomas turned towards her, his cerulean eyes piercing through her soul.

"Who, Delilah?" he demanded, his tone cold and calm. His business voice.

"Campbell, Moss," she shared, her fingers rising at every name. "A few others, but I didn't see them. We thought it was our men coming back for somethin' but when I opened the door, they were all set up already. The bastard had planned it perfectly."

"Oh, Della," Arthur said as John grabbed her hand on the table, squeezing it slightly.

"It's okay, I've seen worse," Delilah affirmed, squeezing John's hand before she let it go, crossing her arms on her chest to hide the trembling of her hands. "What I'm wondering though, is how he knew about Digbeth. Nobody does."

She glanced at Thomas on her right, chewing on her bottom lip. He could see she had an idea. Maybe she didn't have a clear idea, but she had suspicions. And she wasn't about ready to spill them until she would have some sort of proof.

"Where were you?" Arthur shouted as he stood up, his fist connecting with the table and catching everyone's attention.

Delilah stood up as well, pushing Arthur back in the booth strongly. She spread her arms and glared at the oldest Shelby brother, who exhaled loudly and leaned back in the leather booth with an eye roll.

"Enough of that, all of you," she snapped, directing her eyes towards Milo as he scoffed. "I was the one supposed to expect something, and I didn't. They were here, and the boys couldn't do anything, alright? Shit happens. I'm alive, right? So no more worries, no more fucking fights, I won't accept any of that. I'm the leader, I was supposed to take care of that. I didn't. It could've been them, and it would've been the same."

Milo opened his mouth but under Delilah's glare, he only raised his hands in the air in surrender. She sat back down, her eyes never leaving Milo's until she turned towards the window right above Thomas's head. Her eyes hardened and she pointed at it, her back resting gently against John's shoulder.

"Now, who had the brilliant idea to put a window here?" she demanded. In a heartbeat, the three Shelby brothers were exchanging proud glances. "It's the worst thing I've ever seen in my entire gangster fucking career. Insulate that room, remove it and replace it with solid walls. I'm not having any serious meetings here until that thing is gone."

Arthur frowned and John opened his mouth to talk, but he couldn't ask anything as the window opened and Grace appeared behind it, passing them a whole bottle of whiskey Thomas had no doubt ordered before he had stepped into the snug to join them. She raised an eyebrow as Grace closed the window and Thomas put the bottle down on the table, clearing his throat.

Milo tried his hardest to contain a scoff but failed as Angelo nudged his ribs harshly, widening his eyes. Delilah rolled her eyes at her friend, taking the bottle cap from Thomas's hand and threw right into her best friend's face. Milo groaned as he sent the cork towards Delilah, her squeal echoing through the snug as it hit the healing cut on her cheekbone.

"It's clearly not a way to treat your future husband, tesoro," Milo smugly stated, his jet-black eyebrows raised.

The Shelby brothers all stared at her as Angelo smothered a laugh in his elbow. Delilah grabbed the cap once again and threw hit harder, hitting Milo's nose.

"Mamma mia, when are you gonna stop with that!" she exclaimed as she protected her face from her best friend's next assault.

"Future husband," John repeated as he clapped his hand, a whistle escaping Arthur's lips.

"It was eight years ago!" Delilah screamed, trying to cover Milo's voice with her own. "And it was my father's wish! A lot had changed since!"

"You're right," Milo responded with a wince. "You're not nearly as pretty as you were."

Delilah burst out laughing as Arthur punched her shoulder with a raised eyebrow. Angelo gaped as his hand connected with Milo's chest, almost swinging his chair backwards. Milo ground his teeth when he wrapped his hand around the back of Angelo's chair, avoiding a solid drop on the ground.

"Well, if you don't want her," John grinned, rubbing his hands.

"Ugh, do you have any morals?" Delilah growled as she placed her hand on Arthur's shoulder. "You're married, remember? Arthur on the other hand..."

Arthur's eyes lit up as he snapped his head towards her and Delilah covered her mouth with her hand as she threw her head back, her nose wrinkled. Thomas thought it was the first time he had seen laughing in a too long time, and surprisingly, he had missed it. The freckles splashed across her face seemed to stand out as she turned towards him, catching her breath.

"You'd let her marry that fuckin' guy?" John accusingly asked Angelo, who twisted his face in disgust.

"Who do you think I am?" Angelo retorted as he grabbed John's toothpick from his mouth.

Delilah chuckled as she fully turned to Thomas this time, her eyes scanning his features expectedly. His ocean orbs were filled with amusement as he looked at their friends' behaviour, his eyes slowly drifting towards her. His cheekbones were complimented by the light freckles covering them, landing on his nose as well. He raised a dark eyebrow at her, and she found herself missing the dark strands of hair under his peaky hat. She picked it up and placed it on Arthur's head who didn't even notice the change, too busy with the boys' conversation.

She motioned for him to approach with her finger, only stopping when he was closed enough for her to speak in his ear. She ran her tongue over her lips before she leaned towards him.

"I told you so," she whispered. "I wanted to tell you the other day, but it was highly inappropriate."

Thomas chuckled as she fell back into the booth, her back once again hitting Arthur's shoulder. She pushed a red curl behind her ear with a smile, delighted by the sound of Thomas's ever so tiny laugh.

"Fair enough," he replied, admitting that she was right — implicitly.

"Oh, Tommy," she sighed, resting her chin on her knuckles. "You need to— Ouch!"

The bottle cap landed on her forehead and she hadn't expected it, to say the least. Milo laughed as Angelo high-fived him, the two Shelby brothers snickering behind their hands. A smirk blossomed on Delilah's plump lips as she faced her old friend, raising her hand in the air.

"Ti uccido, cazzo!"

ஜ۩۞۩ஜ

It was a disaster. Delilah foolishly thought that the secret about Danny's grave was closely-guarded, but it turned out that Campbell's little bird had once again opened its fucking beak too wide, fucking up their plan.

When Milo had called her, explaining that the police was after Thomas Shelby, Delilah had run to the Garrison, holding the crazy hope to find him before they could. However, she had quickly turned back towards her home when all she discovered was an empty pub and a distressed barman, who had told her the man of the hour had left with the infamous barmaid a few minutes prior.

She was walking down the dark streets with her thoughts as company. Her brain tried to process how these guns could have been found — distracting her from the clench in her heart every time she was reminded of Thomas in Grace's apartment. Still, she couldn't find any answers to her questions, and she gave up on her concerns when she walked towards her porch.

Delilah exited her keys from her coat and she was about to walk to the front door when she noticed a silhouette standing in the dark shadows, sheltered from the street lights. She approached it until she recognized it: fucking Thomas Shelby was standing by the wall, his hands slid in his pockets as he calmly smoked a cigarette. She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, working on the front door lock before she pushed him inside, checking that no one was observing her.

"What the holy fuck is wrong with you?" she screamed once she had locked the door behind them, rushing to the windows to close the curtains. "Do you wanna die or something?"

Thomas shrugged in response, his eyes carefully following her moves as she walked to the kitchen, looking through a drawer until she found a gun, checking the bullets inside of it in case it would be empty.

"Are you aware they're fucking turning the whole city upside down to find you?" she carried on, checking that she had locked the door just in case. "You're mad, Thomas Shelby, you're completely crazy."

"I just couldn't disappear without informing my business associate," Thomas defended himself, following her through the living room as she collapsed on the sofa.

"You don't seriously think that I'm letting you go now?" she scoffed, bending down towards the coffee table and reached for her box of cigarettes. "Polly'd murder me. You're fucking out of your mind, that is. You're not gonna leave this house unless the fucking coppers take you away themselves, you hear me? Fucking walking around the streets in the middle of the fucking night while the fucking police's after him."

It was the first time he had heard her swear that much in a speech. Since the siblings had moved to Birmingham, they had lost their distinguished language, and the more they had spent time with the Shelbys, the more swears had found their way through their mouths. Delilah slid her right leg under the left one, lighting up her cigarette and outstretching one towards the Shelby man.

"This bullshit will kill me," Delilah whimpered, rubbing her eyes with the palms of her hands. "Right. We have an important information leak, and that's a gigantic problem."

Thomas sighed as he took a drag of his cancer stick, closing his eyes as he tried to think logically. No one knew about the guns, except the two of them, and it obviously wasn't Delilah who had let the cat out. She was in as much trouble as he was since she was the only one who could affirm the exact location of these bloody weapons. Furthermore, she had encountered Campbell and they couldn't tell he had gone really well. 

At first, they were both swimming in an ocean of shit, and right now, they were drowning in its depths.

"We have to be careful, now," Delilah spoke again, filling the silence with her melodious voice. "No more meetings in public places, no more spilling information even to our trusted ones."

"What about your trusted ones?" Thomas demanded as he stared at her face.

It remained emotionless as she crushed her cigarette in the ashtray, pushing her ponytail behind her shoulder elegantly. She licked her lips and faced him, her eyes scanning his face just as he was scanning hers.

"If you're referring to Milo," she started, crossing her hands on her lap, "he's my best mate, had been for a very long time, but I didn't tell him. He only knows about Worcester, well, about what we all know for now. Angelo doesn't know about the guns either. Thomas, I know how to keep a secret."

"We can't compromise Black Star Day," Thomas muttered as he ran his hand through his jet-black hair, Delilah's green orbs lingering a moment on the movement.

"'Black Star Day'?" she repeated, wincing. "You suck at choosing names, don't you?"

Thomas snickered and he shook his head softly, bringing his cigarette to his lips even if he was smoking the cigarette filter.

"We shouldn't have to," Delilah carried on. "Unless you talked about it to someone else than our families."

"No," Thomas responded in a heartbeat, the lie coming easily through his lips.

He felt guilty for lying to her, mostly because she had never lied to him — despite the many times she could have. The memory of him circling the December 3rd on Grace's agenda, excitement dwelling in his voice made him want to fucking lose his mind, for real. Whether or not it was a mistake — which he started to believe —, it was too late for that. And the fact that the lie came to cover the suspicions Delilah started to gather towards the blonde barmaid brought even more disgust into his shattered heart.

A knock echoed through the household, tearing him away from his thoughts as Delilah shot up from her seat, outstretching his hand towards him.

"You don't move," she commanded as she slowly made her way to the entrance, grabbing the gun she had left under the coat rack.

She took a deep breath and unlocked the door, swinging it open with her gun raised at eye level. Angelo raised his hands in the air and Delilah frowned, not lowering her gun a bit.

"What are you doing?" she asked, referring to the whole surrender thing.

"I don't know, what are you doing?" Angelo retorted, his voice rising slightly.

"Fucking lower your hands then!"

Delilah placed the gun where it belonged before Angelo stepped into the house, immediately noticing Thomas sitting down on the couch beside their sofa. He frowned but she shook her head, motioning for him to go to bed. Sometimes, Delilah found herself wondering if she was the eldest instead of Angelo.

As her older brother rushed up the stairs, she locked the front door for the last time, she hoped, and moved to the kitchen. She opened a cupboard and exited two glasses from it as well as a full bottle of whiskey. It wasn't as good as the Garrison's, but it was alcohol, and she wouldn't spit in the soup. She brought the glasses to the coffee table, Thomas waiting for her on the couch. She carefully placed the glasses on the tables and sat down on the sofa, uncorking the bottle and pouring a generous amount of amber liquid into each one of the cups.

 Once she was done serving them, she grabbed her glass and lifted it in the air, waiting for Thomas to do the same.

"To Campbell's little bird," she toasted, clearing her throat. "They know what they're fucking doing."

They clinked their glasses and downed the alcohol in one gulp, Delilah wincing slightly at the roughness of the alcohol running down her throat. She poured them another glass, this time taking their time to enjoy the warm feeling in their body. Her hand was wrapped around the cold glass as she brought her legs to her right side, her left elbow resting on the sofa armrest.

Delilah leaned forward to put her glass back on the table. She ran her hand over her face with a heavy sigh. Her brain was too exhausted to keep thinking about the guns and she found herself staring at Thomas again.

It was increasingly common for her to linger on the man's face. It seemed like she just wasn't able to look away from him, and the more she thought about it, the more she feared it would be problematic in the end. He stared back at her the same way she did, noticing more and more details on each other's faces.

The first thing that struck Delilah's attention was the perfect curve of his upper lip. Then, she noticed how perfect his nose was, straight and covered in light-brown freckles — which she had already noticed a long time ago. Each time he was smiling, wrinkles appeared on the corners of his eyes, but these were harder to notice since, well, it was Tommy Shelby she was talking about.

Before her eyes could memorize his perfect features for good, she turned away and grabbed her glass once again, taking a long sip and closing her eyes when the liquor invaded her mouth.

Thomas, on the other hand, didn't turn away. From the side, he could see the curve of her little nose, not the slightest flaw visible on her face — except the cut on her cheekbone, that is. When she took the glass away from her lips, their fullness appeared even further highlighted. She was perfect, once again, even with worry written all over her face and her wary eyes going back and forth between him and the front door.

Seeing her that concerned about him made him feel even worse for lying.

"It's gonna be a long night," Delilah sighed as she pushed a wild strand of hair behind her ear, resting her temple on the armrest.

"A long night, that is."

ஜ۩۞۩ஜ

Grace Burgess was staring out the window, her chin resting on her crossed arms over a tiny wooden desk. Papers were scattered around it, and she sighed when she thought about the cleaning she'd have to start the following morning.

It was a beautiful night. For once, Small Heath wasn't overlooked by thick rain clouds, and a few stars were even shining in the sky. The moonlight reflected on her window, sending tiny rays to scatter around the tiny flat. She felt cold as the poorly insulated window let in a fresh breeze, lifting the front strands of her blonde hair slightly.

For a moment, she wondered what they were doing.

Grace couldn't believe he had slipped away from her because of Delilah, once again. In the end, maybe the redhead had been right about business coming before love. She didn't want to believe them at first, but the more she was thinking about it, the more she realized she couldn't compete with her. Delilah was everything Grace wasn't, and she had taken way too long to realize it.

The blonde glanced at the ring shining at her ring finger, the memory of the proposal flowing through her mind. She had accepted out of nowhere, and now there she was, stuck with that ring and heartless, since the man who once held her beating heart in his hand had crushed it into his strong palm, carelessly, mercilessly.

There was something about her.

The worst was that Grace couldn't bring herself to hate her. At first, she surely did; but now that they had talked, after she had tried to save Grace's life during the IRA incident, allowing Grace to betray them not even six hours after the event.

Chester had warned her. He had warned her since the very beginning.

You fell for a gangster, bitch, Delilah's voice whispered in her head. Bet you didn't see that coming. 

Italian words: 

tesoro = darling

Mamma mia = oh my God

Ti uccido, cazzo = I'll fucking kill you

it was important to me that thomas visited delilah instead of staying with grace, not because of romance but because of the lie. with that said, angst coming next chapter!