A/N: There's one prison prompt in here. Let's just overlook that. ;) This time it's bite sized chunks of fluff.
Disclaimer: I could have had it all...but I don't.
Life After Prison
Anon's prompt: John can't resist resting his hand on Anna's thigh at dinner.
She was laughing and happy, and it was one of the most beautiful sights that he had ever seen in his life. Her giggles were high-pitched and completely honest, and he found himself enraptured by the look on her face as she laughed, the way that her eyes danced and the way that her whole body shook. It was his first dinner back at Downton after their long separation, and it was a wonder that he was finding the time to eat at all, too focused on the way that his wife looked. Questions were thrown at him one after the other – was the food hot enough, did he have enough, would he like dessert – and he answered each one quickly so that he could keep his attention trained fully on his wife.
She was sitting close to him, so close that their thighs were touching beneath the table. Every so often, she would turn that wonderful gaze on him, and he thought the strength of her smile would blind him.
It was torture, being so close to her and yet still not being allowed to touch. They had been forced apart for so long, and now that they were together again, they were still being kept away from each other. He didn't know how he was going to survive the next weeks alone in his room. For a brief moment, he considered simply taking hold of the hand that was resting tantalisingly close to his glass of water, but then he imagined the look of horror upon Mr. Carson's face and thought better of it.
Still, he needed to do something to satisfy his need of touching her. He had not had the opportunity to do so since their walk to the cottage that afternoon. The thought of going any longer without feeling her warmth was unbearable.
And then the perfect idea sprang to mind.
On the guise of adjusting his seat, he let the hand nearest to Anna to fall below the line of the table. Gently, his fingers quested forward. His heart had begun to beat faster in his chest. He felt like a young boy defying his parents. The feeling was oddly exhilarating.
Slowly, his fingers came to a rest softly upon his wife's thigh, splaying warmly against her. Even though she was still wearing her work clothes, he could feel the firmness of her flesh beneath his fingertips.
At the sensation, Anna visibly jumped, turning to him with a look of wide-eyed surprise. He kept his gaze straight ahead, pretending to be engrossed in something that Mrs. Patmore was saying. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her face transform into that beautiful, wide smile that he loved so much. He squeezed her thigh lovingly, and she smiled wider.
And, in the next moment, she had dropped her hand below the table, her palm pressing against the back of his hand, tangling her fingers through his.
Anon's prompt: John learns that Anna is pregnant.
It had been a long day at work. Lord Grantham had been in a particularly bad mood and that, in turn, had affected John. He'd managed not to snap when his lordship had told him that he'd need to stay longer tonight, but it hadn't been easy. He'd sent Anna home early, seeing no sense in making her wait when she didn't need to, and even though she'd protested, she'd gone in the end, telling him that she'd have dinner waiting for him upon his return.
It was a relief to latch the door to their cottage behind him when he did finally manage to get away. Inhaling deeply, he smiled at the realisation that she had cooked him his favourite. That, and his wife's smiling face, would be the perfect remedy.
Lazily removing his jacket, he made his way into the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe as his eyes adjusted to the sight in front of him.
"Well, well," he said, grinning widely. "Candlelight. Very romantic."
"What can I say?" she said lightly. "I'm a romantic woman, Mr. Bates."
He pushed off from the doorframe, coming to take her up in his arms. "And do I get a kiss from my romantic woman?"
"You might," she said playfully, "if you go and sit down."
He stole a kiss anyway, moving to sit in his usual place as Anna flitted easily around the kitchen. And then he frowned.
"Anna," he said. "Why have you set three places at the table?"
"Oh, we're expecting a visitor," she said, turning to grin at him.
He groaned. "Tonight? Why didn't you tell me?"
She came over to him. "Stop sulking. I thought it would be a nice surprise."
"Well, it's not," he grumbled. "I was looking forward to a quiet evening before retiring to bed with you. Who's coming to spoil my evening?"
"Don't worry, he won't be arriving yet," she told him, settling herself over his lap.
At that, John's eyes widened. "He? Anna, is there something you're not telling me?"
"Nothing like that, you silly man," she teased. "Besides, you needn't worry. He won't be coming for a good few months yet."
John looked nonplussed. "…So you're setting a place at the table for a man who won't be coming for a few months?"
She grinned mischievously. "Well, he won't be a man when he arrives. And he might even be a girl."
The pieces dropped into place, and John's eyes widened comically.
"Are you saying," he stammered, "that you're – we're –"
She grinned widely, wriggling closer.
"That's right," she whispered softly. "You're going to be a father, Mr. Bates."
Anon's prompt: John is free, Anna is ill. Mrs. Hughes allows him to go to see her at night.
Mrs. Hughes sighs as she watches Mr. Bates pacing around outside her sitting room. He has been doing it for the last fifteen minutes, and it is beginning to grow a little tiresome. She knows what the man is doing lingering outside her office. She just doesn't understand why he doesn't come in and ask.
At last she can take it no longer, and opens the door wide.
"Can I help you, Mr. Bates?" she asks.
He jumps at the sound of her voice, looking guilty. "Oh, erm –"
She rolls her eyes at his inability to formulate a sentence, then motions for him to step inside her sitting room. He does so after a moment's hesitation, and she closes the door smartly behind them.
"Well?" she asks him, even though she already knows.
"How's Anna?" he asks her quietly. "I'm worried about her, Mrs. Hughes."
"Really, Mr. Bates, there's no need to worry. She just has a terrible cold. She'll be as right as rain in a few days."
Mr. Bates nods, but sighs. He looks so lost in that instance, and Mrs. Hughes feels her heart go out to him.
"Do you…do you think it would be possible for me to see her?" he asks after a moment. "I know you said that she isn't serious, but it would ease my mind."
"You have your work to do," she reminds him. "You have every right to be worried about Anna, but you can't let that affect your work."
Mr. Bates visibly wilts, and the housekeeper can't bear to see him looking so defeated.
"But," she continues, "if you promise to be discreet, I'll allow you to come and see her tonight, when everyone else has gone to bed. I'm sure it would cheer her."
Mr. Bates cheers up considerably at this.
"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes," he says sincerely. "You're very kind."
She merely smiles at him.
After everything they've been through, she just doesn't like to see them suffer.
That night, John finishes his chores at breakneck speed, not caring that they're not up to his usual standards. He waits for the others to retire to bed, grabs his night things, and quietly makes his way down the men's corridor. He holds his breath for a moment as he turns the door handle that segregates the sexes, and smiles widely when he realises that Mrs. Hughes has been true to her word. Carefully, he slips through it, locking it behind him. Anna's room is down near the other end of the corridor, and he moves slowly. He doesn't knock when he reaches it for fear of disturbing the others, and slips quietly inside. He half-expects to see Anna curled up, sleeping, so he is pleasantly surprised to see that she is sitting up in bed, clasping a book between her hands. She jumps visibly when she sees him in her doorway, though she is grinning broadly in the next moment.
"What are you doing here?" she whispers. "Mrs. Hughes will smack you with your cane if she sees you!"
He ventures further into the room. "Mrs. Hughes knows I'm here, actually."
Her eyes widen. "What? She let you through the door?"
He nods, then comes to stand at her bedside. She shuffles a little to make room for him, and he perches himself on the edge of her bed tentatively.
"How are you feeling?" he asks her softly.
She laughs a little. "I can't breathe through my nose and I feel a bit hot, but other than that, I'm fine. And I feel even better now that you're here."
"Well, I'm here to stay," he declares, holding up his night things. She laughs again, watching him interestedly as he begins to strip.
"Shouldn't you turn away?" he asks.
She smirks. "Why? It's nothing that I haven't seen before."
His eyes darken at her statement, but he shakes himself. That isn't what Anna needs right now. She just needs love.
When he's ready for bed, he slides in beside her. She almost falls out at that, so she solves matters by clambering on top of him.
"There," she says. "Much better."
He strokes her neck softly. "Right, it's time for you to sleep now."
"Is it?" she says. "Are those the doctor's orders?"
"No, but they're your husband's," he tells her.
"Hmm, he's a bit bossy, isn't he?" she teases, even as she stifles a yawn.
"I think he just cares."
She nods thoughtfully, then bends down to kiss him. He responds softly, not caring that she tastes like Beechams Powder, before allowing her to snuggle into the crook of his neck.
"Thank you for being here," she says sleepily.
He squeezes her tight. "I'll always be here from now on. I promise."
No response. Anna is already asleep. John smiles and follows her.
The next morning, Mrs. Hughes decides to check on Anna's wellbeing, as she had done last night before retiring.
But when she opens the door, she hadn't been expecting to see Anna curled up on top of Mr. Bates, sleeping soundly. The housekeeper's eyes widen in horror for a moment, before she realises that they are both still fully dressed. Thank heavens for small mercies.
Backing away slowly, she decides that she can leave them in peace for just five minutes longer.
handy-for-the-bus' prompt: Anna tells John that she's pregnant during the picnic in Scotland.
She was still smiling cheekily at him, even after the kiss. He loved the expression on her face – it usually meant mischief, and John had quickly discovered that mischief usually meant that Anna was feeling particularly racy – but now, in the middle of the countryside, it was maddening, too.
"Come on," he said with a grin. "Out with it, Mrs. Bates."
"Don't you want to wait until we're back at Downton before I tell you?"
He shuddered at the mere thought. "Anna, that's another week away. I can't possibly wait that long to know."
"You need lessons in patience," she told him playfully, shuffling closer. "I waited years to hear you say that you loved me too."
There was only teasing in her tone, but John couldn't help but feel a stab of guilt. She noticed the flicker across his face, and rolled her eyes.
"All right, Mr. Bates, we'll have none of that," she said, prodding him in the chest. "No wallowing in self-pity, remember? The here and now is the only thing that matters."
"You're right," he said, smile brightening. She grinned broadly when his hands found her waist, pulling her onto his lap, and rested her hands against his shoulders. "So you should tell me what's on your mind right now."
"If I tell you," she said, "you're going to have to promise to keep it to yourself. It's a secret. For the time being, at least."
"I think I can manage that," he growled. "Secrecy is a speciality of mine."
She giggled when he waggled his eyebrows knowingly at her, then caught one of his hands. He sobered at once, sensing the change in the atmosphere.
"Anna?" he asked her.
She shushed him, then guided his hand to her stomach, resting it there gently.
"I'm pregnant, John," she breathed quietly, her eyes dancing. "I wanted to wait to tell you, but now is as good a time as any."
"Oh, Anna," he whispered, squeezing her lightly. He could barely believe what he was hearing. Him? A father? It was perfect. To the future and his Scottish blood indeed. She thought she detected a glimmer of tears in his eyes.
"Are you happy?" she asked.
The blinding smile he beamed at her was all the answer she needed.
a-rabbit-hearted-girl's prompt: S01E04. Anna and John, along with Gwen, go to the fair.
The fair was in full swing when John, Anna and Gwen arrived. The other servants had already left when Anna had clattered into the kitchen, dressed for going out. John had been reluctant to allow her to go at first, because he could tell that she was still ill, but she had shot him one of those no-nonsense looks that had started to make his heart thump fast, and stated that she would be going whether he liked it or not, because the fair rarely came.
"I wouldn't miss it for the world," she'd said. Gwen had pleaded with him to let them go, and he had relented upon seeing the challenge in Anna's blue eyes, grabbing his coat and hat and leading them away quickly before Mr. Carson should return and find Anna out of bed.
"We'll have to be careful not to be seen," he'd told Anna as they'd walked together, but she had just grinned.
"Don't worry, Mr. Bates," she'd teased. "I won't let you get into trouble, if that's what you're worried about."
He'd opened his mouth to tell her that he wasn't worried about that, just her welfare, but he had been interrupted by Gwen's squeal of excitement. They had arrived.
Now, John had to admit that he was enjoying himself very much. He was sure that it was down, in no small part, to Anna. There was something captivating about her, out here, in the magic of a fair. Although her nose was bright red and her cheeks were flushed, she looked as if she was enjoying herself immensely. She walked between him and Gwen, her arm occasionally brushing against his (when had she started walking so close?), her voice a little scratchy, but her eyes bright with enjoyment. They visited all of the stalls, inspecting the prizes, and he and Anna had laughed at Gwen's rather shoddy attempt at winning a wooden horse to send to her sister, who was expecting her first baby. The delicious smell of warm food permeated the air, and John had insisted on buying warm roasted nuts for both of the women. Anna, of course, had insisted on sharing hers with him in turn, placing them gently in his hands so that he didn't drop them. The feeling of her fingers, even through gloves, had sent shivers down his spine, and he was sure that heat had flooded his cheeks. If she'd noticed, Anna hadn't said anything, and Gwen had seemed too preoccupied with gnawing at her own nuts to notice. Once, they had ducked behind a stall together, sure that they had spotted Thomas and Miss O'Brien, and John had been unable to stop himself from chuckling at the sight of both Anna and Gwen peering like mice around the end of the stall, much to the bewilderment of the owner.
All in all, they had a wonderful time. Gwen and Anna were wonderful company, though John caught himself treacherously thinking a few times that he would like to spend at least a little time alone with Anna outside the confines of the great house.
And, at the end of the night, his wish was answered, when Gwen told them that she just had to try and win the wooden horse one more time, and that they should wait for her here. Neither of them protested as the younger woman darted back into the crowd. John thought about breaking the silence with a teasing quip, turning to smile at Anna, before the smile faded from his lips. She looked as if she was standing in the middle of some exotically cold land. She was pulling her coat tight around her.
"Anna, are you all right?" he asked her at once, not even trying to disguise the more-than-strictly-friendly concern in his voice.
"Yes, I'm fine," she reassured him, but he was not convinced in the slightest.
"You're shivering," he noted.
She shrugged. "Don't worry about me, Mr. Bates. I'll be all right."
He shook his head. "No, I don't want you to get more ill. Here, take this."
He withdrew his woollen scarf from one of the inside pockets of his coat. Anna stared.
"Mr. Bates, why are you carrying that with you? It's summer!"
Now it was his turn to shrug. "I just thought that you might be needing it."
She shook her head, incredulous at the thought that he could be caring enough to bring along a scarf in such weather, just for her, but he could see the fond smile playing around her lips. "That's very kind. Thank you."
"Not at all," he murmured, lifting it to wind around her neck. He couldn't be sure, but he had a feeling that she was holding her breath as his hands came into contact with the skin of her neck, and he was sure that she was shivering harder than ever. He could feel her warm breath ghosting against him. He pulled the scarf tighter. One of her hands half-raised –
"All right, we can go now!"
The reappearance of Gwen, sans horse, had them stepping apart at once. Anna's cheeks were glowing, but he wasn't sure if it was because of her illness.
Gwen stopped in her tracks, her eyes wide. "We'd better get you back into bed, Anna," she said innocently. "You don't look well at all."
Anna glanced at John, letting her eyes linger for a moment, before turning back to her friend.
"Lead the way," she murmured.
John noticed on the way back that she was walking closer than ever.
He couldn't mind at all.
Anon's prompt: Anna and John's first dinner in their cottage.
"Will you pass me the knife?"
John smiled gently, doing as he was told. He peered over his wife's shoulder, resting his chin against her.
"Just what are you making?" he asked her, nuzzling his nose against her ear.
She giggled, swiping at him with flour-covered fingers. "Are my cooking skills so bad that you can't tell a pie when you see one?"
"A pie?" John looked a little dubious. It was certainly oddly shaped for a pie. "Well, it looks…lovely."
She giggled at his uncertainty, twisting in his arms so that she could press a kiss against his mouth.
"Why don't you get started on cutting the carrots?" she asked him. "We'll be done twice as quickly if you do."
"As you wish, milady," he murmured, pausing to kiss her again before moving to do as she'd asked.
A feeling of contented domesticity settled over them as they worked together, chopping vegetables and exchanging loving conversation as they moved about the room. The kitchen was only small, and Anna shivered every time that she brushed up against John in the tiny space, the warmth of his body sending heat through her veins. Time and time again, she found herself brushing up against him unnecessarily, listening to his sharp intakes of breath, feeling his solidness against her. When they had finished preparing their dinner, Anna pushed the pie into the oven.
"How long do you think we have?" John murmured, coming up behind her and slipping his arms around her waist.
She felt her breath beginning to come faster. "Oh, I think we should have at least half an hour," she said casually. "Why, what did you have in mind?"
"Come here, and I'll show you," he murmured, pulling her back against him, pressing himself against her backside. There was no denying his intentions, and Anna felt a frisson of heat.
"Come on," she said, tugging him towards the living room. "I'll show you what I've got in mind."
They quite lost the track of time after that, amid the shedding of clothes and the urgency of fulfilment. It wasn't until they smelled burning, much later in the evening, that they realised that they'd forgotten all about dinner. Anna pushed herself to her feet with an unladylike hiss, tumbling into the kitchen wearing nothing but her shift, and John followed her at a more leisurely pace, peering around the doorframe.
The pie was black, and their first dinner in their very own cottage had been ruined. For a moment, they both stared at each other. And then they started laughing loudly.
"Never mind," said Anna, dabbing at her eyes. "I suppose we'll just have to go without tonight. We'll have to make do with dessert."
"Dessert is my favourite," John growled, sweeping her up in his arms.
handy-for-the-bus' prompt: Anna and John's conversation in the car, on their way back to Downton.
The car trundled slowly back down the streets, taking them back towards the countryside and Downton. Back home.
Anna clasped John's hand tightly between both of hers in the back of the car, linking their fingers together. He glanced across to see her staring at him, her eyes shimmering with utter adoration.
"What is it?" he tried to joke. "Do I have something on my face?"
"Well, now that you mention it," she teased, "you do have some rather dashing stubble."
He raised his spare hand self-consciously, rubbing his palm softly against his chin. It made a grating sound in the quiet. "Don't worry, I'll smarten up a bit when I get back to Downton. I just didn't have time this morning."
She shook her head. "No, I mean it. I like it." Casting a glance in Pratt's direction, she leaned in to him. "Very much so," she whispered.
He shivered at her tone of voice, resisting the urge to kiss her again as she sat back.
Squeezing his hand again, she carried on talking. "You have no idea how excited everyone is to see you. Even Mr. Carson hasn't been as bad tempered over the last few days."
John chucked. "And that's down to me?"
"I think so, yes. And Mrs. Hughes is overjoyed. She's given me some time off this afternoon, you know."
"Oh? Has she?"
Anna nodded, grinning excitedly. "I thought that perhaps we could go for a walk in the fresh air."
"That would be wonderful," he told her. "I haven't smelled fresh air in so long."
Anna's smile flickered for just a moment. "Let's not talk about it, John. It's in the past now. I want to forget – at least for a few days."
He nodded. He understood. Because he wanted to do the same, wanted to move forward with his life, with Anna by his side. And now, for the first time, there was nothing stopping them being together properly as man and wife.
"What do you want?" he asked her quietly.
She cocked a quizzical eyebrow at him. "What do you mean?"
He felt a grin of his own blossoming along his face, squeezing her hand tighter. "We have the whole world in front of us now, Anna. What do you want from it?"
This time, she didn't even bother to glance at Pratt as she leaned up to kiss him, clutching his hand so tightly between hers. When they parted with a soft smack of the lips, she nestled her head against his shoulder.
"All I want," she said, "is to be home with you."
Anon's prompt: Anna tells John about her promotion to lady's maid.
"What news do you have of the house?" John asked her.
As usual, they were sitting opposite each other in the filthy visiting room, their hands stretched as close towards the other as they dared without actually touching. He had been oddly listless on this visit, her husband. Perhaps it was because he was afraid that she was running out of lines of enquiries. Since her visit to Mrs. Bartlett, she had been unable to find any more leads. That wasn't to say that she wasn't throwing herself into her investigations anymore. She was, whenever she had the spare time. But she supposed that it was easy to lose hope when you were surrounded each and every day by the same four walls and the same filthy routines. He was looking tired today. But he was still making the best effort he could, nodding mechanically and smiling when she told him not to give up, that next time she was sure that she'd have something else to offer him. The visit was drawing to a close, and he always asked this question right before she had to leave. She supposed that it gave him something else to think about in the long days that stretched endlessly ahead.
"Well, Lady Sybil will be due to have her baby any day now," she said, and she watched his smile turn half-nostalgic, half-bitter, an odd expression. "Mr. Branson is fussing round her like a mother hen. I think she finds it irritating, but she doesn't say anything."
"I can imagine," he told her softly, and she knew that he was thinking about what their life would be like if he wasn't stuck in prison. Would they have had a baby of their own by now? Would John have fussed over her every move, constantly warning her to take it easy, heedless of the roll of her eyes and her exasperated smile?
The subject was too painful to think about for long, so she quickly changed the topic to what she'd been meaning to say in the first place.
"And I've finally been made Lady Mary's official lady's maid."
John's eyes widened at the news. For the first time all visit, a genuine smile graced his face, crinkling his eyes slightly at the sides. It had been a long time since she had seen a smile like that – not since she'd told him about the garter that she'd purchased in France.
"That's wonderful news, Anna," he told her quietly. "Truly, truly wonderful."
She glowed inside at the warmth in his eyes, and wished that she could clasp his hand across the table. "I suppose it's been a long time coming."
He surprised her even more by chuckling, and it made her swell inside that the mood had finally lightened. "It most certainly has. You've been doing the work of a lady's maid and a housemaid for the last God knows how many years. You run rings around everyone else in the house. It's about time that they recognised that you deserve a more senior position in the house. I take it that they call you Mrs. Bates now?"
She giggled a little too, shaking her head. "I'm afraid not. I'm still plain old Anna."
"You're neither plain nor old," he told her firmly. "You're perfect. But I must admit that I rather like the idea of you still being Anna."
"Oh?" she said. "And why's that?"
"Because it means that I'm the only one who can call you Mrs. Bates," he growled, and she felt her stomach contract pleasantly. He smiled wider at the pale blush that fused itself in her cheeks, then started a little when the guard shouted that their time was up. Anna shook her head and began to rise.
"I'll see you next week," she told him softly. "I love you."
"I love you too," he replied, standing too. "Take care getting home."
"I will," she said. "Don't worry."
She turned to leave then, and he called after her one last time.
"Give everyone my regards, Mrs. Bates!"
She smiled all the way back to Downton.
Anon's prompt: how John came to mend Anna's bag in the servants' hall.
He'd noticed before on several occasions, that Anna loved her little black bag. It had been looking a little old and worn for a while now, but it had always been usable, strong and steady.
But now it was broken.
John wasn't quite sure how it had happened – whether Anna had caught in in the car door without realising, or whether they had manage to snap the cord between them with their enthusiastic kissing hidden out of sight before they'd made their way inside for John to be greeted by everyone and they just hadn't noticed – but the look on her face now was torn between heartbreak and frustration.
"It's not so bad," he said tentatively, taking her hand gently. "At least you can use it as an excuse to buy a new one."
She shook her head fiercely. "I don't want a new one."
The notion was mystifying to John. He thought that she'd grab the opportunity to get a nice, new bag. "But you've had it for years."
"Exactly," she said. "You bought this for me on my birthday when we'd just started walking out. It's been my favourite bag ever since."
He stared, touched at the look of soft sentimentality on her face, to see that the gift that he had picked for her with sweaty palms all that time ago still meant so much to her. Gently, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed a kiss against her temple.
"I can buy you a new one," he told her gently. "If I get my job back, I'll be able to put a little aside and get you a new one."
"I suppose," she sighed, but she looked forlorn. "It's just…no one has ever bought something like that for me before. It was special."
His heart contracted a little in his chest, and he kissed her again. While it made him sad to hear that Anna hadn't been lavished with the gifts that she so richly deserved, it buoyed his spirits to know that he had been able to give her that happiness. He had taken so much from her in the past years. It made him feel good to know that he could give her a little of that back, in some small way.
"Never mind," she sighed at last, not one to dwell. "I suppose I have other perfectly good bags that I can use in the meantime."
John caught her wrist gently when she raised it, holding the limp end of the bag.
"Wait," he said. "Is it just the handle that's snapped?"
She furrowed her brow a little. "I think so, yes. Why?"
He grinned at her broadly. "I think I can fix it for you."
Anna's eyes widened. "You can?"
He nodded again. "Yes. Nothing will bring me greater pleasure than making you happy again."
Her answering kiss was enough payment for him.
A/N: The whole lot in one chapter was like 11,000 words long, so I decided to split it. The rest will be appearing in a few days.