A/N: *Stands in the way of everyone who has clicked on this story with a megaphone* THIS IS A SPOILER ALERT! If you've not watched the first episode of season 6 yet, DO NOT read this story, or if you do, don't tell me off for the spoilers!

I went to the BFI screening on Thursday, and when I woke up on Friday morning, this sprang fully formed from my pen. Discussions with Muddlethrough (Lindsey Grissom on here) and Misshoneychurch88 on tumblr, who were also there, helped developed a few things I missed, and the end scene is by request of Misshoneychurch ….. well part of it. I'll explain more at the end.

So – just to be sure: SPOILER ALERT! Season 6 spoilers by the bucketful!

When she thinks back on it all, Mrs Hughes can't quite believe she allowed her worries, her fears, to linger so long before she spoke of them. Indeed, if Mrs Patmore hadn't insisted on drawing her out, she might never have given voice to them. She would have carried on refusing to set a date, lightly suggesting to him, as if it were nothing at all, that there was no rush, whilst her mind screamed that he couldn't possibly want her in that way.

She began to wonder if it was really necessary at all, even beginning to convince herself that they could make do without the physical aspects. So she wouldn't end up being absurd. Work kept her distracted, but when she was alone in her narrow bed, she did not see how it could be avoided, and the knowledge was a torment to her.

Thank heaven for Mrs Patmore, then. They had developed a true friendship over the years and the cook could tell she wasn't quite herself – was so far from the steady, practical woman she prided herself on being that she wondered who she was, and if this was what love did to you, she didn't think she wanted it. Even though her friend didn't know why the housekeeper looked more pensive than usual, she cared enough to press the truth from her.

And she had taken the cowards way out and sent the other woman on a mission which she was sure would be doomed to failure, because how could Mr Carson be anything less than offended by the intimate discussion. She was convinced it would all go horribly wrong.

Indeed, Mrs Patmore hadn't been successful. Hadn't been able to bring herself to broach the actual delicate subject when Mr Carson was so happily forthright about sharing his life, knowing he needed to change his way of life and not seeing a problem with the vague point she was making. Sneaking into the kitchen to hear the report made her feel like one of the maids, waiting to hear if her fancy man had taken a shine to her (which, she supposed, was not so far from the truth) and put her in mind of that time she had allowed the other woman to relay the news her health scare was over. Another conversation too awkward and painful to be shared between the two main participants.

She was not entirely surprised that the conversation had not gone to plan, but she was devastated that there was still no resolution. Sleep was a flighty temptress who refused to visit her, and she couldn't fathom a way forward.

She was surprised to learn that it had been Mr Carson who had raised the subject again, and as she sat in her sitting room with the flustered Mrs Patmore, going through that second conversation, she was flabbergasted to hear that he had actually called her beautiful. It was beyond comprehension. She was well aware that the looks she had had in her youth were a thing of the past. Had been on their way before she had ever reached Downton. She didn't begrudge their loss, but she could barely believe that he might think of her so. A spark of hope was lit in her soul and then kindled further as the rest of the message was relayed. The hands that held her tea cup shook as she heard the highly moved voice of her friend telling her that he loved her, how proud he was that she had accepted him, and that was he wanted was …. Well.

It was too much and not enough all at the same time. To know that he loved her, even if the knowledge had come by proxy was a delight to savour, and yet even with all this knowledge, she still needed to talk to him. To have the courage of her years and declare her own desires.

She just didn't know how one started a conversation like that, when one wasn't even exactly sure what they wanted. Even with the fact of his desire laid before her, there was still a small kernel of doubt if it should happen.

Then all her own concerns were pushed to one side as Sargent Willis suddenly appeared in their midst and broke the news that Anna was completely free, that her ordeal was over and life could begin again. The servants hall was full of upstairs folk and there was champagne, and Mrs Patmore was dancing, and the blessed relief of it all made her almost light headed.

There was still the matter of Daisy and her outburst. If left to Mr Carson alone, he might have fired her, but Lady Grantham's intervention softened the fatal blow. In the end, the two of them (united behind the desk, as if they were married already) soundly told her off and allowed her to keep her job.

The emotions of past days were still too raw for her to want to linger alone with him. She needed sleep before she could find the courage to put her feelings into words, but he pre-empted her. With a look of heartbroken adoration on his face, he played the chivalrous gentleman and bravely said he hadn't intended on inveigling her into something she didn't want. That if she'd changed her mind, he wouldn't make a fuss. Would let her go. She didn't have to marry him.

She was slow to catch his meaning, and then the possibility of destruction crashed in on her. She knew in that instant what it was she wanted. All her hopes and dreams (which she had barely acknowledged, but now knew with crystal clarity) might be so easily lost because of her concerns, and she knew she had to speak her heart. She had to tell him she shared his desires.

And so she told him. He could have her (oh the utter audacity of that phrase!) warts and all.

She didn't think she had ever seen him happier and in the brief flicker of a moment, he was in front of her, and then his lips were on hers and it was sheer heaven, and she could hardly help the small 'oh' of relief as they shared that embrace. To feel her head cradled in his hands and then his lips on her forehead made her heart sing with pure joy. She couldn't have stopped her arms from wrapping around his waist if she tried.

And it was all the more remarkable, this physical display of love, for the fact that the entire staff was just beyond the door, that anyone could walk in, and he evidently didn't care at all.

He wanted her. Wanted to kiss her, hold her, their status be damned. Love, at this point in time, triumphed over duty.

When they returned to the party not long after that blissful moment, she did not go to Mrs Patmore, but simply scanned the room, and with her eyes shining, gave the briefest of nods when she encountered the cook's concerned face. The relief that passed over her friend's face was palpable, would have made her laugh if she hadn't shared the sentiment. Things would improve, even if she still laid a claim to nervousness. At least he knew why now.

A week or so later, and the rumours of cut backs were still rife and an atmosphere had started to settle over the staff, making conversation at meals difficult as they tried to glean some sort of answer from the butler.

He was a hopeless liar, and only succeeding in making the situation worse with his leading yet inadequate replies, and now they were in his pantry as he paced the floor, trying to work out what was to be done.

'I'm trying to convince his Lordship of the need to keep up standards, but he was highly shocked by Mallertons. I'm trying, but I can't get any sort of answer that would help. I can't be asked for information I don't have!'

He was working himself into a proper state and she was starting to worry he might be in danger of collapse. She stood and put a hand on his back, for he had turned away in frustration.

'I know all that Mr Carson. You don't have to explain yourself to me. I love you and …'

She didn't get to finish her sentence for he span around and stared down at her, with a look she couldn't quite read.

'What did you say?'

'I said you didn't have to explain …'

Once again she was interrupted. 'No - the other thing.'

She frowned, trying to work out what she had said, and then it dawned on her and she smiled up at him. 'I said', she spoke clearly and moved her hand up his arm so that it rested on his shoulder, 'that I love you.' And before he had time to do more than allow wonder to fill his eyes, she had risen on to her tip toes and brought her lips to his.

It was nothing like the kiss they had shared the other night, which had been brief and more about pouring balm on their tormented souls. No, this kiss spoke far more deeply of their feelings and was not so easily ended. His arms were about her in an instant, pulling her right to him, and when their lips finally separated, he did not relinquish his hold, just stood there, nose buried in her hair, practically inhaling her, as if he wished never to part, never to go about his duty ever again.

His voice shook as he spoke. 'You haven't said it before.'

She chuckled slightly and pulled back so she could look in his eyes. 'Technically neither have you. You told Mrs Patmore!' The smile on her lips was echoed in her eyes and showed him that she didn't mind in the slightest. She knew the words to have been spoken in his heart, which she could hear just as loudly.

He did not return her merriment, but brought one of his hands from her waist to stroke her cheek. 'I love you very, very much' he said in the nearest approximation of a whisper that he could manage. 'And you're beautiful.'

He brought his lips back to hers before she could protest at this last statement. As she sank into the embrace, before she forgot anything other than the sensations he was awakening, she found she thought she could get used to being told such things. In that moment, indeed, she found his words to be absolutely true. She was beautiful. She was wanted. She was loved.

A/N: Oh, that episode. All the feels. I felt the need to delve into what was making Mrs Hughes tick behind all the fears. There's so much going on here. I had planned on a little extra scene where she told him she loved him, but it was through conversation with Misshoneychurch88 on tumblr that the idea of a kiss initiated by her was born, so that part is dedicated to her. This is all my perspective into things, others might see it differently!

When you're all done flailing and have recovered, I'd love a review or two!