If you had told Thomas a few years ago that the Peaky Blinders would get involved with motorcycle racing, he probably would've scoffed at the idea.

It was Ada's idea. Thomas's sister had grown to enjoy the sport, thanks to her husband. Suggesting the idea that Thomas rigged the races just as he had with horse races. Another revenue source. And since it seemed to be going well, Thomas let his sister handle the operation.

Even Thomas, who at first thought the idea was mad, found himself attending the races more and more.

To watch those men, dressed in their blue and white leather racing suits, the ones that had the Peaky Blinder name written across the back, fly across the track and dominate every other team- it was a thrill Thomas didn't expect to enjoy.

It was genius, in hindsight. To make a race team the first thing you pictured when you heard Peaky Blinders instead of the ruthless gang. A cover up in a way.

He wished he could thank Ada for the idea, knowing now what it had given him. It gave him you. A man he found himself absolutely infatuated with. One he was lucky enough to wake up to. To touch and kiss whenever he wished.

Thomas watched as you flew past him, your bike flying around that bend with practiced ease. It took a few minutes before your blue and white bike slowed, taking its time to come to a stop next to the older man.

His eyes shifted, watching as you killed the engine and pulled your gloves off.

"Need something?" Your voice, muffled by your helmet, finally reached his ears. Thomas shook his head lightly, his blue eyes watching your every move. Watching as you pulled your helmet off and set it on the gas tank. Watching as your fingers combed through your sweat slicked hair.

"You've been out here practicing for hours, Mate. Think you should call it a night." Thomas spoke up after he realized he had been staring at you for too long. Trying to avoid the awkward questions you might have. He knew he wasn't subtle about the way he checked you out.