A/N: I wrote this way back in January - I typed it up and everything, but didn't post it. I found it again today and decided that I might as well post it although I have a feeling I'll probably end up deleting it for being completely unfunny to the extent that it's embarrassing. But I figured there's no harm in posting it to see what everyone thinks!

Jimmy's feelings for Thomas had changed. Drastically.

It was all perfectly simple. As the months had passed, he had slowly begun to like Thomas more and more, and his liking had eventually developed into love. Jimmy knew he wasn't mistaken in his feelings. And he hoped that Thomas still loved him.

The only thing he had to do was tell Thomas about his new-found feelings. Which should be perfectly easy.

"Thomas?"

Thomas glanced up as Jimmy slid into a seat next to him. "Yes?"

"Err, nice weather today," Jimmy said feebly, gesturing to the windows. It had suddenly struck him how dull he sounded; talking about the weather.

I might as well turn into bloody Molesley and have done with it!

Thomas turned to look out the window. Rain was thundering down and the sky was a depressing shade of grey. He raised an eyebrow. "Indeed."

Jimmy smiled sheepishly.

"Well, aren't we interesting today," said Miss O'Brien sarcastically from across the table. "I don't know how you two think of such exciting things to talk about. I'm quite envious."

Thomas' face darkened and he opened his mouth to make a snappy retort. Jimmy made a hasty exit. As he reached the kitchen, he decided that he needed to think of a topic of conversation that would actually make him seem like an interesting person.

Of course!

My hair! How could Thomas resist the power of my hair?

Next time, Jimmy promised himself.

Jimmy wandered up to Thomas and sat down with a sigh. "Hello, Thomas."

Thomas nodded in response. "Hello, Jimmy."

"So, what are you doing?" Jimmy smiled at him, and twirled a finger through a strand of blond hair.

Thomas shrugged. "Writing something up for Mr Carson."

"Oh! How interesting!" said Jimmy, beaming so hard his face felt as though it was about to split in two. He held out one of the many combs he kept in his pocket. "The back of my hair is quite, err, tuggy - would you mind brushing it for me?"

Thomas stopped writing and frowned at him. "Couldn't you do that yourself?"

"No!" said Jimmy quickly. "I can't reach."

"I'm afraid I'm rather busy at the moment," said Thomas unapologetically. "Get someone else to do it for you."

Jimmy's mouth fell open.

He's actually...passing up the chance to feel my hair?

"But my hair's soft!" he said, slightly desperately. "It's-"

"That's not right," he heard O'Brien say from behind him. "Men shouldn't be so obsessed with their looks, not unless they want folk to think there's something funny about them."

Thomas gritted his teeth. "Leave off, O'Brien."

Jimmy resisted the urge to throw his comb at her, but the thought of possibly losing it was too much to bear. He contented himself by stalking from the room and baring his teeth at O'Brien, who looked faintly amused.

It was only when he was outside the room that he wondered whether there was any truth in her words.

Maybe Thomas wants someone more manly?

Jimmy strode up to Thomas in the hall, swinging his arms.

"Hello, Thomas," he said in the deep voice he had spent hours perfecting in his room the night before. "What are you doing?"

Thomas looked at him in concern. "Are you alright?" he asked, abandoning his work. "You sound as though you have something stuck in your throat."

Green, the visiting valet of Lord Gillingham, laughed, earning a glare from Jimmy.

"So, would you like to come to the pub with me for a pint?" Jimmy asked Thomas, deepening his voice even more. That was what the men I used to work with had sometimes used to say, wasn't it?

Thomas stood up. "Look, I'll go and ask Mrs Hughes if she has anything to soothe your throat. You don't sound at all well, Jimmy."

"I'm perfectly well, thank you!" said Jimmy indignantly. "Real men, such as myself, don't get ill."

"Real men don't keep about ten combs in their pockets, either," Green pointed out, grabbing a few combs which had fallen from Jimmy's pockets on to the floor.

Jimmy let out a piercing shriek. "Give me my combs back!" He dived at Green and tried to wrestle them from his grasp.

Thomas pulled Jimmy off. "Jimmy, calm down!" he exclaimed. "Green, give him his combs back. They mean the world to him, he literally can't live without them-"

"Of course I can!" Jimmy barked. "I'm just trying to have a fight with Green because we're men, and that's what we do." He laughed scornfully. "I don't particularly care about the combs - I mean, who would? They're not even mine! Real men don't-"

Thomas rolled his eyes. "This is ridiculous," he said, cutting through Jimmy's babbling. "Just give him his combs, Green."

Green held out Jimmy's combs for him to take. "Real men don't shriek, especially not so high that the glass almost shatters," he said, amused.

"That was a grunt!" Jimmy snapped. He grabbed his combs back and held them protectively to his chest. "Anyway, this is none of your business Miss O'Brien; this is, or was, a private conversation between Thomas and I!" He praised himself for the insult, which he felt was very witty and clever. Sadly, Thomas didn't look amused.

"Well, your voice has returned to normal, so I'm assuming your throat is alright now," he said with a frown. "Now go and get on with your work Jimmy-"

"Wait!" Jimmy interrupted desperately. "Do you want to-"

Mr Carson swooped into the hall. "What is this rumpus?" he boomed.

Jimmy scurried from the room. "Nothing, Mr Carson."

"Thomas?" Jimmy approached him from the corner of the room. Act posh, act posh, he chanted in his head.

Thomas merely nodded in response.

"Would you care to accompany me to Ripon this coming Friday?" said Jimmy in his best impression of Lord Grantham.

Thomas frowned at him. "Are you quite alright, Jimmy? And why are you wearing your suit?"

"I always wear my suit!" said Jimmy at once.

"No," said Thomas suspiciously, "you wear your livery."

"Are you pretending to be one of the family upstairs?" said O'Brien in amusement, glancing up from her sewing. "How pathetic."

Jimmy scowled at her but deigned not to answer, seeing as she had hit the nail on the head. "Anyway," he said, returning to his 'posh voice', "would you care to partake in some luncheon at-"

"Are you sure you're alright?" said Thomas, his frown deepening.

"Yes," Jimmy replied in surprise.

"Oh." Thomas returned to his book. "I thought you had a cold, that's all. And change your suit before Mr Carson catches you!" he added.

O'Brien smiled smugly.

"Thomas, I had a lovely dream last night!" said Jimmy brightly.

Thomas' lips curled into a smile. "Really? What was it about?"

"Cigarettes," said Jimmy at once. He glanced at Thomas' gloved hand. "And it were about leather gloves. And ebony, and pomade." He gazed meaningfully at Thomas' hair.

"Sounds a bit of an odd dream to me," said Thomas matter-of-factly, showing no signs of picking up on Jimmy's very subtle hints.

Jimmy pressed on. "I've been having it quite a lot, actually."

Thomas quirked an eyebrow. "Ah, a recurring dream?"

Jimmy nodded eagerly. "Do you think that means something?"

Thomas laughed and shook his head. "Doubt it. Don't worry about it."

"Thomas, my bed has been really cold this last week!" said Jimmy.

Thomas narrowed his eyes. "It's the middle of July."

"Too bad!" Jimmy pouted. "My bed has been freezing!" He sighed heavily. "If only I had someone to share it with..." He gazed wistfully at Thomas.

"Go and ask Mrs Hughes for some warmer blankets if it's really that cold," said Thomas, speaking over Jimmy. "I'm sure there'll be some somewhere."

Jimmy felt a flicker of jealousy as he watched Thomas and Green talking together in the servants' hall. Green laughed in response to something Thomas said, and Jimmy clenched his fists.

"Thomas!" he said brightly, leaning forward and tugging on Thomas' arm to get his attention. "Thomas!"

Thomas looked at him, annoyed.

"You're like a little child!" said O'Brien scornfully, watching from the side of the room.

Green's smile widened and Jimmy ignored him.

"How are you, Thomas?" he asked in a dignified voice.

"Fine," Thomas replied suspiciously, making no move to return the question.

Jimmy persevered. "What're you doing?"

"Well, I was having a conversation with Green," said Thomas, making no attempt to hide his irritation, "until you butted in."

"I'm much better company than Green!" Jimmy protested.

Thomas sighed. "Look, go and talk to Alfred or something-"

"No!" said Jimmy in disgust. "I'll probably lose half my brain cells talking to that thing!"

He suddenly remembered that O'Brien was present, and cursed himself.

"Really?" said O'Brien in a chilly voice. Her eyes were as cold as ice. "Well, at least Alfred has more important things on his mind than his hair, and-"

"Can you two take your argument somewhere else, please?" said Thomas with a sigh.

"Fine! I'll leave you to talk to Green, if you really think he's a better friend than me!" Jimmy barked. He stalked out of the room, and was debating turning to Thomas and snapping something like, "I hate you!" once he reached the door, but thought better of it when he heard O'Brien say, "Well, really! All we need is for him to scream that you're the worst friend in the world and he hates you, and we can officially say that he's turned into a toddler."

That would probably be quite a childish thing to say, Jimmy decided.

To prove her wrong despite the fact that she wasn't even there to see him, Jimmy walked in a dignified fashion up to his room and shut the door quietly, before throwing himself on the bed. He was starting to lose hope with this whole business.

He was slowly running out of ideas, and was starting to question whether Thomas actually did love him. Maybe he saw Jimmy as nothing more than a nuisance. Maybe he preferred the company of Green.

Jimmy shuddered. How can anyone prefer Green to me?

There was a soft tap on the door and he heard Thomas' voice from outside. "Jimmy? Can I come in?"

"Whatever," Jimmy muttered. He wasn't even sure if Thomas heard him, but he assumed the older man had, as the door creaked open and Thomas entered the room.

"Sorry about what happened back there," he said, shifting slightly awkwardly on the spot. "I didn't mean to dismiss you like that."

Jimmy sighed. He could already feel himself forgiving Thomas.

"It's fine." He stood up. I suppose now is as good a time as any.

"I have something to tell you," he said slowly.

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Does this explain your strange behaviour this past few weeks?"

Jimmy nodded. His mind was racing, and he was gradually getting closer and closer to Thomas.

"I...I wanted to tell you this." He took a large step forward and pressed his lips against Thomas'.

The kiss was only short, but it lasted long enough to take Jimmy's breath away. He broke it by taking a small step back, and stared at the ground. He didn't dare look at Thomas.

There was a long silence, and Jimmy wondered if Thomas could hear his heart thumping. Eventually, Thomas spoke.

"So that's what you wanted to tell me."

"Yes," Jimmy mumbled. He raised his head to look at Thomas. "So...I think...I love you, and I want you to...well, would you like to, to be with me-"

"Yes," said Thomas with a sigh, interrupting his confused babble of speech. "How could I not?" He pulled Jimmy close and kissed him. "Although it would have been far easier if you had just told me from the start-"

With an effort, Jimmy pulled back. "Just to clarify, you don't prefer Green to me, do you?" he asked, a measure of anxiety in his voice. He knew deep down that Thomas didn't (if his current actions were anything to go by), but he wanted to hear it from Thomas' own lips.

Thomas rolled his eyes. "As if I could! I had to act like that in front of O'Brien - don't want her gossiping about us, do we?" He kissed Jimmy again. "So don't worry Jimmy, I can assure you that I love you too."

Jimmy's heart exploded with happiness.