Calloway // Michael Gray x Reader - Peaky Blinders Fanfic

Chapter 39

Michael

Michael flares in anger the entire walk home.

He doesn't understand it himself. Not fully. It's not as though Calloway did anything wrong — men can buy her drinks. Even line up fucking shots of gin in front of her, he reflects, his hands clenching into fists.

But not Alfie. Not someone just as dangerous as Tommy, and less trustworthy in Michael's estimation.

That's why he's fuming, he decides, as he unlocks the front door and closes it behind them both, the air between them still silent. Only because it's Alfie, and he's dangerous.

The words that leave his mouth seem to suggest otherwise.

"The fuck was that?" He asks in a low voice.

To his surprise, Calloway sets her jaw and stands her ground. "You tell me."

He raises his eyebrows, looking at her in the dim light that filters through the windows from the streetlights outside. "How the fuck should I know?" He asks.

"You're such a hypocrite, Michael."

"Me?"

"You can have two women drape themselves over you like a fucking Christmas scarf, but I can't even talk to your family's bloody business partner?"

Michael blinks slowly as realisation dawns on him. He bites his lip, trying to hide a smile. "That's what this is about?" He asks, voice calmer.

Calloway, apparently, isn't ready to see the humour in the situation like he is. "Fuck you," she tells him, turning and storming up the stairs.

It takes Michael a moment further to process what is happening before he follows after her, catching her on the landing. She won't stop, and so he takes her by the waist — not wanting to hurt her broken collarbone — and pins her in place against the wall. Her cheeks are lightly flushed, her gaze heavy.

"Sweetheart," he begins, caressing her waist.

"Don't sweetheart me," she warns.

"Cal. Fucking listen to me. Those women weren't for me, they were for fucking Finn and Isaiah."

She's silent for a moment. Blinking. Breathing. Hesitating. "I... What?"

"John set the whole thing up," he explains. "We were trying to help them find girls. Finn, more than Isaiah. Needs all the help he can bloody get. John was more into it than I was — had three women lighting his bloody cigar for him, at one point."

Cal's voice is suddenly quieter. "He did?"

"Yes. He did." Michael fights a grin once more. "And I didn't see Esme begin snorting lines of bloody cocaine with a business associate, did you?"

Once more, Calloway is seemingly unable to laugh at the situation just yet. Her eyes narrow. "I was being friendly."

"Admit it, love," he teases, risking releasing her with one hand to run it along her jaw. "You were jealous. So jealous, you tried to make me jealous."

"I'm not the one who came storming over ready to start a fistfight," she retorts.

The laughter fades from Michael's eyes before he can recompose himself, clearing his throat as Cal draws herself up triumphantly. "I wasn't about to fight Alfie bloody Solomons," he mutters, but Calloway scoffs.

"Please. You'd have been less obvious if you'd pissed everywhere like a dog to mark your territory."

"My territory?" He repeats, raising an eyebrow. He leans in closer. "You're my territory, are you?"