Chapter Text
The scent of warm bread and the faint sting of whiskey filled the air as Tommy Shelby stepped into Alfie Solomons’ bakery. It was a place of noise and heat, where men barked orders over the sound of ovens and kneading dough, but Tommy barely paid any mind to it. He had business, and business meant dealing with Alfie.
But today, it wasn’t just business.
Darcy stood beside him, dressed in a deep blue dress that clung to his curves, the fabric soft and flowing. His short ginger curls were neatly styled, and his green eyes, enhanced by a touch of kohl, watched the bustling bakery with quiet curiosity. His makeup was subtle, his lips painted a muted red—just enough to make him look delicate, almost ethereal. His posture was demure, his hands neatly folded in front of him as he played his role well.
It wasn’t just that Darcy liked wearing dresses. It was safer. In a world that despised men like him, it was easier to exist when people assumed he was simply an eccentric, feminine woman rather than something they couldn’t understand.
Alfie glanced up from his place behind the counter, dusting flour from his hands as his sharp gaze landed on Tommy. “Tommy fuckin’ Shelby,” he muttered, his deep voice dripping with dry amusement. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Tommy smirked, but his usual sharp wit was laced with something more serious. He stepped aside slightly, gesturing to Darcy. “This is Darcy.”
Alfie’s dark eyes flicked over Darcy, scanning him in a way that felt appraising, assessing. But where most men might have leered, Alfie simply raised a brow. “Didn’t know you were bringin’ a lady, mate,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of mild surprise. “You finally got yourself some manners?”
Darcy smiled softly, his hands smoothing the fabric of his dress in a slow, practiced motion. “Mr. Solomons,” he greeted, his voice as gentle as ever, warm like honey but steady.
Alfie smirked, intrigued by the way Darcy carried himself—graceful, polite, nothing like the rough women he was used to dealing with in Camden. “So, what’s the story here, eh? You bringin’ your lady friend round for a visit?”
Tommy exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face. “Not a lady,” he said simply.
Alfie’s smirk froze, his brows furrowing as he looked between them. “Come again?”
Darcy smiled, dipping his head slightly. “Tommy’s right,” he said gently, voice never losing its warmth. “I’m not a woman.”
For the first time in a long time, Alfie Solomons was speechless.
His eyes flicked over Darcy again, slower this time, taking in the small details he had missed before—the sharpness just beneath the softness, the way Darcy’s delicate hands held a quiet strength, the way he held himself, so sure and yet… untouchable.
Then, Alfie let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Tommy, you bring me the strangest fuckin’ people.”
Tommy smirked, clearly enjoying Alfie’s bewilderment. “You’ll get used to him.”
Alfie studied Darcy for a long moment before finally letting out a short laugh, resting his hands on his hips. “Well, ain’t that somethin’,” he muttered. “You had me fooled, love. I’ll give you that.”
Darcy giggled softly, tilting his head. “I get that a lot.”
Alfie’s smirk deepened. “Yeah, I bet you do.”
Then, the amusement faded slightly, replaced by something sharper. “So what’s this about, then?” he asked, looking back to Tommy. “Why bring him to me?”
“Darcy’s going to be coming and going through Camden,” Tommy said, his voice all business now. “He’s family. I need to make sure he’s safe.”
Alfie’s amusement disappeared entirely, his dark gaze shifting to Darcy once more. Safe. He understood what that meant.
This wasn’t just about making sure Darcy didn’t get caught in the crossfire of business.
This was about what Darcy was.
The world wasn’t kind to men like him—men who blurred lines, who didn’t fit into neat little boxes. People didn’t understand Darcy, and what they didn’t understand, they feared. And what they feared, they hurt.
Alfie knew what men in Camden could be like.
He exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his beard before finally nodding. “Alright then,” he said gruffly. “He’s under my protection while he’s here. That means no one touches him, no one bothers him. And if they do—” He cracked his knuckles. “They answer to me.”
Darcy’s expression softened, gratitude flickering across his face. “Thank you, Mr. Solomons.”
Alfie snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t go makin’ a habit of gettin’ in trouble, yeah? And it’s Alfie to you”
Darcy giggled and his lips twitched in a warm smile. “I’ll do my best…Alfie.”
Alfie’s heart skipped a beat as he heard Darcy say his name in that soft voice. Alfie gave a long-suffering sigh, shaking his head. “Bloody hell. Shelby boys are bad enough, now I gotta look after their little bird, too.”
Tommy smirked. “Like I said, you’ll get used to him.”
Darcy giggled again, and for the first time in a long time, Alfie thought maybe—just maybe—this arrangement wouldn’t be so bad.