Archive of Our Own ^beta

It had started to rain when the two of you ducked into the Garrison; John held the door back as you crossed the threshold, and that familiar smirk teased his lips as he watched you shake the water from your hair.

"You look pretty in the rain," he commented, letting the door shut behind you.

You laughed and rolled your eyes. "You have a compliment for every occasion, John." You weren’t complaining, you loved that about him, though you’d never tell him so.

"And that’s a bad thing?" he murmured against your shoulder as he followed you into the pub, leaving little space between.

"That depends," you glanced back at him, "on whether you really mean them or not."

He scoffed and shifted to stand in front of you, before pressing a sure kiss to your lips. "Course I bloody mean them." His bright eyes filled with amusement. "You’re my girl."

You smiled. His girl. You’d been dating for half a year now and it still made your heart pound to hear things like that.

"C’mon." John slung an arm over your shoulder and guided you into the small room reserved for the Shelbys. "I want privacy tonight."

You raised an eyebrow, looking at him sideways. "Privacy? Why?" He wasn’t one to pass up on socialising, especially on a Friday night in the Garrison.

His arm dropped and he shut the door behind you. The pub noise was suffocated, leaving a cosy level of quiet that neither of you minded. You took a seat on the bench, resting your elbows on the table in front as John opened the hatch into the bar. He ordered his usual, not bothering to ask what you wanted (you drank the same thing anyway), before sitting opposite. He was dressed smarter than usual, with his hair combed neatly to the side and his shirt uncreased. You frowned. He hadn’t given any reason to look tidy today, if he had you would have put on something nicer that the old dress you were wearing.

"I wanted to ask a favour of you," he began, his eyes on the tin case in his hands.

"Am I going to like said favour?" You were hesitant. He’d asked you to help with Shelby business before and you didn’t like it, in fact, you wanted nothing to do with it.

"I think so." He smiled and lifted a cigarette from the tin to his mouth. "I need you to have the kids for a couple days." The cigarette bounced as he spoke.

You laughed. "Is that all?" You felt your shoulders relax. "Yeah, ‘course I’ll have them, John."

"I knew you would. You’re good with them."

Heat rose to your cheeks. He was looking at you intently, and you couldn’t help but wonder what was going on behind those eyes you loved so much.

"They’re good kids."

John snorted, a grin stretching across his face. ‘Don’t lie, (Y/N). They’re a bunch of terrors.’ You couldn’t help but laugh with him, even if you didn’t agree.

You were about to counter him, to argue that they weren't that bad, when the door to your seclusion swung open.

"You never heard of knocking?" John barked, his face quickly shifting into one of anger.

You shifted your gaze to the door, and to the man stood behind it.

"Oh my god," you breathed. There was no way, no way it was him. You stood from your seat, staring at the man, unable to comprehend the situation.

"You know him?" John asked you from where he sat, but you ignored him.

"Eddie." The corners of your lips pulled into a wide grin. "Eddie!"

"Hello, Darling." Eddie purred, welcoming you into his arms as you darted across the room to hug him.

You pushed your face into his chest, pulling him tightly against you. Eddie, your Eddie was home. He was thinner than before, but his body was laced with a new, fine muscle, that'd built up in the time he’d been away. You pulled back to look at him, to take in his face as if he were a stranger.

"You’re pleased to see me then?" He smiled down at you, letting his hands drop to sit on the small of your back.

"Pleased? I’m…" You struggled to find the word, or even finish your sentence, "I can’t believe you’re…How did you know I’d…?"

Eddie laughed. "I’ve never seen you lost for words, (Y/N)."

"Is someone going to tell me what the fuck is going on?" John piped up, finally standing from his seat to face Eddie and yourself. He pinched his cigarette between two fingers, holding it away from him as he pushed his other hand into the pocket of his trousers. His body language oozed confidence, but his face didn’t; his jaw was clenched, his eyes flitted between you and Eddie, and his lips set in a thin, tight line.

Eddie’s arms dropped. "Of course, where are my manners." He straightened himself and offered John a hand to shake as he spoke. "Edward Bennet."

John ignored the hand. You felt your face twist in annoyance and were unable to strip the sharpness from your voice, "Eddie is an old friend of mine, I haven’t seen him since he left for the war."

"You’ve never mentioned him," John replied, seemingly unimpressed with the explanation.

You flinched. "It never came up."

"John Shelby." John finally shook his hand, keeping the contact short but firm.

"I hope I’m not interrupting anything serious," Eddie continued, his face holding the same pleasant expression, "I just wanted to see my little (Y/N) and her mother said she was likely to be here."

"You spoke to Mum?" You laughed in disbelief.

Eddie nodded. "She was probably more surprised to see me than you were."

"I don’t doubt that." Mum had always loved him, she’d asked after him every month he’ been away, prayed for him every night… She’d never do that for John. You shook your head, sending the thought away as you smiled up at Eddie. "You should join us, I’ll get you a glass."

"Thank-you, Darling." Eddie squeezed your arm lightly before moving to take the chair beside John.

"I’ll get it." John spoke, leaving before either of you could dispute it.

"Is he always this friendly?" Eddie smirked, watching you as you crossed the room to slide back into you seat.

You scoffed. "I don’t know how to answer that."

He was looking at you carefully, with an eyebrow raised and a hand propped under his chin. "I’ve missed you."

"I’ve missed you too." You had. You’d spent the past few years wondering if you’d ever see him again. "I can’t believe you’re here."

"I was always going to come back to you, (Y/N)."

You felt your cheeks blush.

John returned, closing the door behind him before placing a glass onto the table in front of Eddie. He looked calmer now, his usual cool-confidence firmly back in place as he lifted the bottle of rum. "I only got this to offer you."

Eddie nodded. "I’m sure you know just as well as I do that any alcohol is good alcohol."

John poured the dark liquid into his glass in silence, topping up yours and his afterwards.

"We didn’t get much choice in France," he continued, still getting no reply from John.

You take your rum and sip it, welcoming the sharp burn in your throat.

Eddie took his glass, keeping his voice light, "You’re a quiet man, John."

"He’s had a long day." It was a lie, but you couldn’t bare to let Eddie think he was being purposely rude.

John sighed, lowering himself into his seat and looking across at you. "I don’t need you to speak for me, (Y/N)."

You squinted at him. You’d never seen him like this.

"I’ve known men to go quiet after serving." Eddie was indifferent, if he’d noticed the tension in the room, he’d chosen to ignore it. "They aren't the same after what they’ve seen."

"I haven’t gone quiet." John sneered the words. "It’s Friday night, not the time for talking war."

Eddie nodded. "You’re right, how could we talk so grossly in front of something so lovely?" He raised his glass to you, "Sorry, Darling."

It dawned on you how opposite the two were. Both men had fought in the army, both men had seen the horrors, and both men had returned to Birmingham. But sitting there, side by side, they couldn’t have been more different. Eddie was warm, polite, a gentleman who’d never let on to the disruption caused to his being. Then John; he was rough, and selfish. He wore his damage with pride and dared anybody to challenge him for showing it. Perhaps that’s why you loved him, and why you could never love Eddie in the same way.

"It’s fine. I’m not as delicate as you think I am." You were teasing, but he could read the hint of annoyance behind your words, he knew you well enough to do so.

"You are looking lovely, though. I didn't think you'd be more beautiful now, than when I left."

You smiled as you replied, "You’re looking good too, Eddie. You’ve grown into a fine man."

From the corner of your eye, you saw John tense. There was no reason for him to do so, you and Eddie were like siblings. You viewed him no different than you would a brother, but you decided to try and soothe his worries nonetheless.

"So," you began, "I was going to ask if you’d found yourself a nice girl, but I don’t suppose you’ve had the time."

Eddie chuckled, resting his glass on the aged wood. "No, there’s no-one new who’s grabbed my eye."

John laughed an empty laugh. "Your eye’s stuck on something it can’t have."

You kicked his shin under the table and he met your fierce stare with a bored expression.

"What’re you implying?" Eddie turned to John.

Fuck this.

"He wasn’t implying anything," You snapped, interrupting before the conversation could even begin. "John, could I come see you later? I’d like to catch up with Eddie."

He frowned. You’d caught him off guard. "You want me to leave?"

"Sorry, it’s just," you took a breath, "I kind of want to talk about old times and stuff so…"

"Understood." He stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floorboards. "I’ll see you later, yeah?"

You nodded. His reaction stole the words from your throat.

"It was good to meet you, John." Eddie raised his glass to him, it was met with a cold shoulder and a grunt.

He collected his things and left. You almost felt guilty, but Eddie started talking again and his words soothed you. After all, he was your Eddie, and you were his Darling. Your smile grew as he spoke and soon all worries of John had slipped your mind completely.

——————————————

The night had slipped away from you. You’d sat in the Garrison for hours, remembering old times, and sharing new stories with Eddie. He offered to walk you home but you declined, assuring him that you were fine, no one would bother you. Since you and John became a thing, no one with any sense would even look at you. Besides, you weren’t going home, you were going to the Shelby house.

You came to a stop in front of the door you knew so well, taking a moment to still your breath before knocking. You knew what you wanted to say, but the second you saw him it’d all slip away.

The door swung open and John met your gaze.

He wasn’t happy.

"Pol doesn’t like people bothering us this late," he said in a lazy tone.

He was lying of course, Pol had no rules for visitors.

"I didn’t realise I was a bother."

He looked you up and down, before stepping aside to let you in. You walked past in silence, debating whether to head up to his room, or linger in the hallway. If this became an argument, you wanted to bother as few people as possible. You didn't have much time to debate before he began.

"I’m surprised you’ve not gone home with him."

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose as you turned to face him. "John, please stop."

"Stop what?"

"Why are you being like this?"

"Like what?" His voice was already raised.

"Like a child." You spat back. "You’ve been nothing but rude all night, it’s embarrassing."

"Embarrassing?" He scoffed, folding his arms tight across his chest.

"Yes, embarrassing. I asked you to leave because you were embarrassing me."

"Oh trust me, (Y/N), it was more embarrassing for me than it was for you." He forced the words, stepping close enough for you to feel his hot breath on your forehead. "I had to sit there and watch the two of you flirting. Like some sort of fucking Cuck."

"What are you talking about?" You almost laughed at the thought of it.

"C’mon, don’t act like you weren’t fucking loving it. I could see it, you were lapping it up like I wasn’t even there." The veins in his neck were straining now. He was trying to stop himself from shouting.

"I wasn’t. Fucking. Flirting." You didn’t know how to make it any clearer to him. "He’s like a brother to me, John."

"He was, and you weren’t shutting it down. So in my eyes, it still fucking counts."

"This is pathetic."

"You’re lying to yourself if you think he wasn’t trying to put it on you."

You pressed your palms into you eyes and let out a frustrate noise. "That’s just what he’s like!"

"Well I don’t fucking like it." He spat the words. "And I won’t fucking have it."

When you dropped your hands again, it was an ugly sight. He was just inches away, his face crumpled in anger. Red filled his cheeks as he attempted to calm down.

You squared up to him as best you could. "Why are you so bothered by this? Men try it on with me all the time, and you don’t bat an eyelid." If you were honest, it was his lack of care that made you like him. He was sure of himself, you were his girl and no one could change that.

"Because," he stepped back, facing away from you, "you have history with him."

"So? I have history with the butcher, doesn’t mean I'm going to fuck him if he tells me I look nice!"

He spun on the spot. "Don’t mock me."

"I will mock you, John, because you’re being stupid." You folded your arms, allowing your voice to raise in volume and confidence. You had the upper hand now. "The second you feel threatened, you turn into a complete prick, and that’s your problem, not mine."

"I swear to God, (Y/N)…"

"What? What have I done now?"

He ran a hand through his hair, before neatening it again. Something he did when he was nervous.

"You’re hiding something from me aren’t you?"

He shook his head.

You rolled your eyes. "We’re never going to resolve this if you keep—"

"I was going to ask you to marry me." The words fell from his lips in a whisper, as if in defeat. You almost didn’t believe you’d heard him right until he repeated them again, with force.

"You were going to propose? Tonight?"

John nodded.

Jesus Christ. "I had no idea," You replied quietly. "That’s why you’d dressed so smart."

"And why I wanted privacy."

You couldn’t even nod. You’d frozen in place. The dark of the hallway was suddenly engulfing, suffocating. John wanted to marry you? You? Of all the women in Birmingham, he wanted you?

"That’s why I was so bothered. I had the whole fucking thing planned out."

You stared at him through the dim light. He’d never looked so vulnerable.

"And then he came in, and started flirting, and I saw it all slip away."

He rooted into the pocket of his trousers, pulling out what you could only assume to be a ring. He watched it as he spoke, turning it over and over again in his fingers. "You’re the only girl I could imagine spending my life with, (Y/N). You’re beautiful, clever and you’re so good with the kids… I couldn’t not ask you." He took a deep breath before shoving the ring back into its pocket. "But then he fucking ruined the thing."

"No," you walked to him, placing a hand on his face and pulling him to look at you. "It’s not ruined."

"Don’t—"

"No, stop it. John, I don’t care about Eddie. He’s an old friend and nothing else."

You struggled to piece together the words to make this right. Instead, you pulled him into a kiss, your hand slipping to cup the back of his neck, holding him there. His arms wound around your waist and his hips bumped yours. Your lips parted, tongues touching…

Breathless, you pulled back to stare at his shadowed face. You were smiling, and the smile printed into your voice, "If you still want to ask me to marry you, my answer’s yes."

You watched as a grin, that damn lovable grin, appeared on his face.

"But only if we can invite Eddie to the wedding," you joked, giggling as he pulled you into another kiss, his movements filled with a new passion.

"He can be best fucking man for all I care." He muttered against your neck, in-between kisses.

You laughed and closed your eyes to the feeling of his lips.

John Shelby had asked you to marry him, and nothing else in the world mattered.