Jimmy slowly made his way along the corridor, fidgeting and smoothing out his clothing unnecessarily. He stopped at the door, glancing around him anxiously, before taking a breath as he raised a hand to knock. His fist hovered in the air for a moment
Did he really want to do this?
Either way, it was too late to back out know. His hand had moved of its own accord, and his knuckles were rapping gently against the wood of Thomas' door. Jimmy forced himself to open it, and step into the room.
Thomas looked up from the newspaper that he had been reading. Their eyes met, and as Thomas closed the paper over, the hint of a smile flickered across his face. Jimmy had come to see how he was? He could hardly believe it for a moment, yet here was the blonde haired footman, standing just a few feet away, looking as through he was about to be sick with nerves.
"What are you doing up here?" Thomas enquired, looking curiously at Jimmy as the younger man stepped fully into the room. He shrugged a little, looking down at the floor.
"I...just wanted to make sure there wasn't too much harm done." He replied lamely, stopping a few paces away from Thomas' bed. The Under Butler laughed humourlessly, folding the newspaper and setting it on his bedside table.
"Well there was enough harm done," he gestured towards his face, looking away again.
Jimmy took another breath, eyeing Thomas again. "You were brave, Mr Barrow," he said honestly, "Very brave..."
The dark haired man looked up, his expression unreadable. He tried a smile, before quickly looking away again, not sure how to reply. Though he didn't have to, as Jimmy continued speaking anyway.
"I shouldn't have run off," he murmured, but Thomas disagreed. He sat himself up, and gave the footman a pointed look.
"Well you should have," he replied, "Otherwise what was I bloody doing it for," a slightly pained noise escaped him as he tried to get more comfortable, and Jimmy watched for a moment, feeling the sudden urge to help Thomas - somehow - but he wasn't quite sure how, and so he stayed put. A frown crossed his face suddenly.
"W-were you following me?" he demanded.
Thomas glanced at him again. He looked uncomfortable. "I had to keep an eye out..." his expression faltered, "You'd had a bit to drink...so...yes. Yes I did follow you."
Bluntly put, Jimmy thought. He'd half expected the other man to come up with some outrageous excuse as to why he happened to have been in the same place, at the same time, so Barrow's confession came as a slight surprise to him. Still, Jimmy pressed on.
"Why?"
Thomas looked almost angry. He refused to meet Jimmy's gaze.
He said, "You know why."
The young footman sank his teeth into his lower lip for a moment. Of course, Barrow was still bloody...in love with him (Jimmy tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach upon that realisation). He wasn't sure what to say for a moment, and so he turned away, picking up the desk chair and placing it just in front of the bed, and taking a seat. He ran his hands over his thighs, trying to think of something to reply with. The two of them sat in a thick silence.
Jimmy eventually settled for, "I can never give you what you want,"
He wasn't sure what he meant by that, exactly, but he was sure that he regretted it as soon as it had left his mouth. Thomas looked like he'd been slapped across the face. He closed his eyes over with a sigh. "I understand that...I do." he struggled to get the words out, "And I don't ask for it,"
'That's clearly not what you thought when you were kissing me' Jimmy had to bite his tongue so he didn't say it.
"But..." Thomas continued, "I'd like it if we could be friends,"
Jimmy hadn't been expecting that at all. He stared at Thomas, taking in his worried expression. He was worried about what his footman's reply was going to be, and, well, so was Jimmy. He had a habit of saying things before he thought them through properly.
This seemed to be another one of those times, because before the thoughts had even processed in the young blonde's brain, he was saying, "No, you don't."
Blast. He mentally kicked himself as Thomas' expression shifted. He stared at the younger man for a moment.
"Excuse me?"
"Uh... What I meant was..." Jimmy tailed off, looking down at his hands, continuing his sentence in a barely audible murmur, "What I meant was that...well, Mr Barrow, you...you don't just want to be friends. Not just friends, anyway. I'm not completely stupid,"
To Jimmy's surprise, Barrow looked...amused? The young footman raised hie eyebrows, waiting for an explanation.
"Well, Jimmy," his eyes lingered over the younger man's face, "I'm not stupid either."
"What are you saying?"
Thomas shifted slightly. "I'm...well, I suppose I'm saying that you're not exactly being...discreet about things,"
Jimmy stared at him. What the hell was he insinuating? Jimmy voiced his question, scowling a little when Thomas had the nerve to laugh a little.
"Don't play stupid with me," he said, much to the footman's confusion, "It's not like I haven't noticed the way you've been looking at me, talking to me... the past few months. I think you're forgetting that I know what it's like,"
The young footman was beginning to feel a bit uneasy.
He was glad he'd taken a seat, as it happened. He was scared, because Thomas was right. Over the past year, well, Jimmy had been feeling differently about the Under Butler whom he'd previously tried to get fired. And arrested for kissing him. He couldn't quite place when things changed, but he knew for certain that, for the past few months, whenever he spoke to Thomas, he got the strangest feeling in his chest.
Of course, Jimmy being himself, tried to deny things, but before he'd even got a full word out his mouth, Thomas shook his head.
"Come here,"
Jimmy frowned a little, shifting his chair closer to the edge of the bed. Thomas sat up with a grunt, and turned to face the footman, crossing his legs in front of him. The two of them looked at one another for a moment, Jimmy fidgeting nervously with his jacket sleeves again.
Before the blonde had time to ponder on the strange, fluttery feeling that had returned to his chest, Thomas had leaned forwards and pressed their lips softly together, and Jimmy found himself kissing back, shifting closer, letting Thomas' arms wrap gently around his waist. It was a simple kiss, and a nervous one for both of them. Nervous for Thomas because he had no idea how Jimmy was going to react, and nervous for Jimmy because everything that he had been asking himself for the past few months was being confirmed, and he was scared.
They pulled away from each other, and Thomas brought his gloved hand up to rest on the side of Jimmy's cheek. The younger man placed his own hand on top of it, and looked down, taking it between the two of his and pulling it away from his face. He glanced at Thomas for a second.
"I don't think I've ever asked why you wear this glove all the time," he said slowly, picking at the material that had frayed after being cut around two of the Under Butler's fingers. Thomas took his hand away, and Jimmy looked back up at his face.
"War wound," he replied, shrugging a little, "Didn't heal up too nicely, I'm afraid,"
"Can I see it?"
A frown appeared on the dark haired man's face, "I think its best if you don't," Jimmy nodded, understanding. He hadn't been quite sure why he'd even asked to see it. Curiosity had gotten the better of him, he supposed. Maybe he just wanted to understand what Thomas went through in the trenches. Jimmy played with Thomas' fingers for a moment, staring down at their linked hands as he did so.
"What made you change your mind?"
Jimmy looked up.
"About me, I mean," Thomas clarified.
Oh.
"I don't really know exactly...I suppose I just started finding you more tolerable," he laughed a little bit, "Then...very tolerable...and I suppose I started to like seeing your face around a bit more. After what happened though, I thought it'd be awfully suspicious if we started to talk and be pleasant to one another, so, naturally, I tried me best to avoid you." he nibbled his lip, and Thomas just smiled a little, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Jimmy's cheek.
"Well I'm glad you find me so tolerable, James," he said, feigning a patronising voice and grinning when Jimmy chuckled, and then reached a hand up to tenderly brush his fingers over some of the cuts that decorated the older man's face. Thomas winced, and Jimmy drew his hand back, murmuring a quick apology.
"I'm sorry it had to go as far as you getting beat up for this to happen," he said quietly.
Thomas was about to speak, when there was a knock at the door, and the two of them pulled away from each other, sitting up a little straighter and trying not to look too...suspicious. After a moment, Alfred's head appeared round the door. Thomas and Jimmy exchanged a brief glance, missing the look that the other footman cast towards them.
"Um, Jimmy," Alfred cleared his throat, "Mr Carson wants you downstairs, and Mrs Hughes said you've to let Thomas get his rest,"
"Thanks." Jimmy said, looking at Alfred until he blinked, and left, closing the door behind him.
Jimmy stood up. "I suppose I'd better do as I'm told then," he sighed, leaning forwards and connecting his lips with Thomas', without even thinking about it properly, as though that was normal for him to do. He went to pull away, when a pair of hands came up around his face and neck and held him there, not that he was objecting any great deal. Eventually, though, they had to part.
"Best go downstairs then," the older man said, "We don't want Carson to be getting suspicious, do we?"
"Certainly not," Jimmy stood up, squeezing Thomas' hand before walking slowly towards the door, where he paused, looking over his shoulder at the man lying on the bed. "Feel better, if you can. And...I'll see you tonight, Mr Barrow?"
Thomas smiled, but it wasn't a nervous smile, like from earlier, or the reserved, false smiles that the staff had all become so used to. This was a genuine smile, and it made Jimmy's heart soar.
He said,"You know, you can call me Thomas in private,"
Jimmy felt himself blushing, though he didn't know why.
"I'll bid you a good day then...Thomas,"
"Good day, Jimmy."