Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow

Something Like Happiness Part Two-June 1921

A/N: Smut...and then angst. Set during "Age of Reason" and "Peg of Old." Specifically, the first scene is set after Richard gets home from the scene where he, Jimmy, and Manny make a deal with Luciano and Lansky. This scene is also known as the only time Richard curses in the show.

Adrenaline and anger were still coursing through his veins when he opened his door and saw Clara sprawled across his bed, sound asleep. It was a hot, sticky night for June, even by Atlantic City standards. He longed for the cool, crisp nights of Wisconsin summers, but not nearly as much as he longed for the feel of her legs sliding against his. After hanging up his jacket and hat, he put his mask on top of the desk, undressed, and walked over to the foot of the bed.

Clara was wearing a lacy pale blue one-piece... thing (she wore them, he liked them, he had no idea what they were called) that barely covered anything. In the heat, she had kicked off the sheets, which were crumpled at her feet. It was hot, she was obviously tired; he should let her sleep, he thought. He started to smooth the sheets over her but instead rested his hand on her ankle. The touch caused her to stir.

"You're home," she said groggily, and a small burst of pleasure shot through him at the implication that they were home together. "What time is it?"

"Late," he scratched out and let his fingers slowly move up her leg, using his other arm to brace against the footboard. Fucking Charlie Luciano, he thought, almost the reason he hadn't come home to her. Fucking Rothstein. Fucking Nucky Thompson (Richard couldn't dwell on Mr. Thompson while his hand moved past Clara's knee). And that fucking butcher Jimmy had pulled into their lives. Fuck all of these games he didn't understand. Destroy the man who sliced an innocent girl's face. Fine. Keep Clara alive. He understood that. Watch over Mrs. Schroeder and the children. Sure. Work out how to get the booze from a boat in the ocean, and then distribute the alcohol to various places while guarding against Prohies and rival gangs. Okay.

A small piece of biting pride floated up when he remembered that it was he, not Jimmy, that figured out how to divide the work, how to run the gangs of men to move the alcohol successfully. Jimmy had big ideas but often neglected to think about the details. Another biting piece of pride joined it as he watched a flush spread from Clara's chest to her face, heard her breathing become erratic, and felt her leg tremble as his fingers trailed higher until they traced the lace edge of her undergarment. When he moved his hand to her other ankle, she sighed in frustration, but he slowly started the game again as he thought about the night.

Whatever was going on with Jimmy, with work, now felt like twenty games all happening simultaneously. Richard wanted to ask Jimmy tonight if he had any idea of who his allies actually were. He thought of Clara asking him to leave Atlantic City with her, her fear almost palpable. And that was before the Commodore had his stroke, and Gillian Darmody began sitting in on meetings. He didn't understand Jimmy's relationship with his mother, or the darkness on Clara's face when she talked about it. Still, he knew Gillian brought out Jimmy's worse impulses. After Clara yelled that Jimmy was playing hopscotch when he should be playing chess, Richard worried all the time. And the stakes just kept getting higher.

The sound of Clara's sharp intake of breath as his fingers once more hit lace made him forget what he was thinking about and this time he let his hand continue working its way up, causing her hands to grip the bottom sheet and her back to arch. After a few minutes, his other hand left the footboard, grabbed her ankle, and pulled her down towards the foot of the bed.

Clara gasped. She had only been half awake when his hand had started drifting up her calf; by the time his fingers disappeared up the open leg of her step in any rational thought she was regaining was replaced by the fog of desire. He pulled her up, so she was on her knees and started kissing her. They were hard, claiming kisses that made her heartbeat speed up. His hands were curled around hers, but then he started tracing his fingertips up her arms. She shivered, and he pulled back when his hands reached to the straps on her shoulders. He looked at her for consent, and then pulled them down to her waist before his hands moved up to start kneading her breasts.