Title: In The Dead Of The Night
Author: ~Dancing~Through~Life~
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Sweeney Todd
Pairing: sort of a fluffy, one-sided Sweeney/Lovett
Disclaimer: I don't own Sweeney Todd or the characters. =(
Summary: Sweeney sees a light on downstairs late at night, and goes to investigate.
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It was the dead of night, that darkest hour when everyone had retired to their beds and surrendered to the pulls of sleep. There was not a sound to be heard on the streets of London, nor a light to be seen in the buildings.
Despite the dark, the peace and the quiet, Sweeney Todd paced. Sleep never came easily to him; his head was always too full of the desperate cries of a wife and child, the fear-inducing sounds of a prison, and thoughts of unfulfilled revenge. However, this was one of his favorite times. When everyone was asleep, leaving him to his own, undisturbed (and yet so disturbed) thoughts.
For this reason he thought it odd, as his pacings took him past the large window, that a light shone across the street from the bakery below. He stood for a moment, forehead pressed against the cool glass, staring at the squares of light cast on the dull grey cobblestone. There was never a light on downstairs this late.
He told himself that he didn't care. After all, it was probably only Mrs. Lovett, suffering from the same insomnia he was forced to endure night after night. Even so, his mind nagged him. She wouldn't put on a light for fear of waking that boy who was so dear to her.
As much as he wanted to, he couldn't shake the feeling that he should go downstairs. If nothing else, to extinguish the light. Besides, he would have even less of a chance of sleeping if he was worried, though he would only half-admit to himself that worry was what he was feeling.
So, reluctant as he was, he soon found himself walking down the steps as quietly as possible. Waking people meant talking to them, and holding a conversation was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment.
He pushed the door to the bakery open, remembering at the last moment that there was a bell. Grabbing it before it could make noise, he opened the door fully, stepping inside and closing it behind him. Only then did he let go of the bell. Turning, he scanned the main room of the bakery. Everything seemed normal, and there were no lights. What he had seen from his window seemed to be coming from the parlor instead. He approached the doorway quietly, and when he heard no noise from within, he stepped inside.
The fire had burned down to embers, which glowed weakly in the fireplace. An oil lamp was lit on the table that sat near the front window. Toby was sprawled out on the sofa under a thick quilt which he had kicked part way off. An open bottle of gin sat on the table next to him. Sweeney made his way over and closed the bottle before heading over to extinguish the lamp. Muttering under his breath about whoever had stupidly left it burning unattended, he sidestepped a chair, and soon found himself thoroughly distracted by its occupant.
Mrs. Lovett was curled up in the chair, sound asleep with her feet tucked up underneath the many layers of skirts she wore. There was a book open in her lap, and the pages were crumpling. Though she looked peaceful enough, Sweeney judged that she couldn't be sleeping comfortably in such a position. As he watched, she stirred, pulling her knees up closer to her chest. He could hear pages crinkling, and, thinking he should probably save the book, he reached out and carefully extracted it from her grasp. Setting it on the table, he noticed that it was bent and torn in a way that suggested she fell asleep like this often.
Looking back at Mrs. Lovett, Sweeney debated with himself about moving her. He felt almost that taking her to her bed would be an invasion of privacy, and an awkward situation should she wake up. And anyway, she looked peaceful enough. On closer look however, he was brought back to his previous thought, that sleeping like that could not be comfortable. In fact, if she stayed curled up and scrunched as she was, it seemed to Sweeney that she would be terribly stiff and sore the next morning. With all the work she did in the bakehouse and the store, it seemed like the least he could do would be to save her that one discomfort.
So, with a sigh of resignation, he reached over and extinguished the lamp. Once his eyes adjusted, he took a deep breath and stepped closer to the chair. Leaning down to Mrs. Lovett's level, he gently worked his arms under her back and legs and lifted her. He was momentarily stunned by how light she was, most of her weight seeming to come from her skirts. Holding her as he was now, he realized with a jolt that she may even be smaller than his Lucy had been.
His thoughts were interrupted abruptly when Mrs. Lovett stirred again. Sweeney froze, worried she was waking up. All she did however, was bring her arms up to wrap around his neck, pulling herself closer to him and nuzzling against his shoulder. Sweeney looked down to see a small smile playing on her lips and felt a sudden rush of tenderness that startled him. He found that he didn't want to move, only stand there and hold her.
After a few moments, he realized what he was doing. If he wasn't careful, she might wake up, landing him in and even more awkward situation than if she awoke to find him in her room. So, after shaking his head to clear it, he decided to brush the feelings off as a lack of human contact. Having not been around people for the past fifteen years, it seemed only natural that any touch, especially from a woman, would give him pause.
Comforted by this realization, Sweeney turned and carefully picked his way out of the dark parlor. He had never been in Mrs. Lovett's room, and had assured himself that he never would, but he had seen her come and go from it many a time. He was relieved when he came to it and found the door cracked open already, so all he had to do was nudge it with his foot.
Once inside, he hurried over to the bed, trying his best to ignore everything else. Not only did he not want to invade her privacy any more than could be helped, but after the feelings he had already experienced that night, he didn't want to give any more the chance to fight their way to the surface. He layed her down carefully in a bed that seemed far too large for one small woman, assuming that it was left over from her marriage. Pulling the blankets up, he tucked them gently around her sleeping form, then got up and walked out the door. However, when he reached the doorway, he paused, taking another look at the bed. Something didn't feel right.
Making his way back over, he leaned over her. With a look of determination on his face, he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to her forehead. When he pulled back, he noticed that the smile had reappeared on her face. After a moment of quiet watching, he got up and left, shutting the door behind him.
That night, Sweeney Todd slept.
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