This is my gift for awesomegreentie ( I hope you enjoy this *fingers crossed*) for Batesessecretservice's Banna Secret Santa Exchange 2017 on Tumblr.

I'd like to wish everyone a very Merry Christmas and happy holidays, and I hope nothing but the best for each one of you for the New Year and for always.

December 24, 1925

It hadn't begun to snow yet, but he could feel it in his bones that it was only a matter of time. The packed dirt of the path before them provided an unsteady return to their cottage. Dusk cast a low light on the landscape, which was only further darkened by the trees scattered along their route. There was little choice but to shuffle and slog along their route as the melted frost from the morning had softened some areas to mud, and in other places that mud began to harden into icy patches. Not that she was traveling all that quickly nowadays with nothing but precious days between this moment and the arrival of their already-cherished little one. He squeezed her hand tighter to his side where it gripped the crook of his elbow, looking to the sky in askance for a safe trip home. It was on days like this where his ever-present worry intensified.

He implored her unceasingly to stay at home and rest. Miss Baxter had been ready and willing to take over her duties for months, often making mention of it in the servant's hall during breaks in their day. Mrs. Hughes stopped offering long ago, but it didn't stop her from passing concerned glances Anna's way when she wasn't looking. Yet, in typical Anna-fashion, she gently dismissed them all and took another sip of tea. If he really allowed himself to ponder on it, his feelings warred within him. As much as he would rather her be home with her feet up, as unlikely a scenario as that would be; he preferred that he be with her, or at least be on hand in case help should be needed. What if something happened to her at home? Would she be able to reach the Tripp's to call for him or Dr. Clarkson? With his leg as lame as it is, how quickly could he reach her? Perhaps she was right.

He sighed. It wasn't the first time he cursed his leg, and it wouldn't be the last. His promise to keep her safe extended to their child now as well. If it came down to it, he would move heaven and earth to care for her. But what if he failed her?

Clearing his throat, he interrupted his own thoughts. No good could come from this. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. When she spoke, cutting through the silence, it startled him to attention.

"Mr. Bates, we can see the cottage from here. Do you think you can tear yourself from your brooding for just a few minutes so I can enjoy this time with you?" Giggling through the end of her reproval, she tugged his arm to face him on the path. "You think I don't know you worry? I can feel it miles away, John." Her voice softened when she reached for his hand. "Haven't I worried enough for the both of us?"

"You're right, my love."

His wife was always right. Her fingers, dwarfed by his own, squeezed against his palm. What she said was true. But surely as time marched on without a problem rearing its head, she finally allowed herself to believe that everything would be fine, as he himself had insisted months before. She offered him a reassuring smile and the tension ebbed from his shoulders, allowing them to fall incrementally with every step closer to their door when she pulled him onward. When he spied it himself, John released a long breath, presumably one that he had been holding since they'd left the courtyard gate of the Abbey.

Eschewing the celebrations in the Great Hall, they took their leave early, after obtaining His Lordship and Lady Mary's blessings, the latter practically bundling them out the door herself. Anna talked of little else over the last few days than the things she had planned for them for the holiday. All they required was to be home, just the two of them, before they became three. Their little kitchen was brimming with all manner of Christmas plans and traditions. It was a stark contrast from the previous year.

December 1924

"...let's just have a very happy Christmas," he whispered.

Taking her into his arms, he felt lighter than he had in months, stronger even, as if simply being near her healed him. It was as if he had been wandering around as half of himself in their time spent apart. Their lips met briefly before his need to be closer took over, his arms aching for want of her. It wasn't until after her feet touched the ground that his fingers wove themselves into her hair and their lips crashed together, the searing kiss conveying more in a short time than their words could ever have.

Their cottage door slammed back on its hinges, prompting raspy, hushed laughter, already breathless from their hurried walk home.

"What will the neighbors think, Mr. Bates?" She held her hand to her chest in mock outrage, giggling all the while.

His eyes darkened as he regarded her. Straightening his shoulders, he fixed his gaze on her, searing, almost predatory. A shiver ran through her when his lips brushed against her ear. "I don't care what the neighbors think."

Their feet thumped up the stairs. Her hand, demanding on his sleeve, pulled him where she wanted, foregoing lamps all the way. They knew the way to their bedroom like their hands knew the contours of their bodies, and both were being roamed. Fingers worked feverishly to separate buttons, layers were peeled and tossed unceremoniously to the floor in the hall, in the doorway, or left half worn. Their reunion, fervent and desperate, was a reaffirmation of all they overcame, and the love that had only grown stronger despite their distance.

It wasn't until the morning that he realized the sadness of the cottage. Not an evergreen or sprig of holly adorned the mantle, nor were any of the embellishments that spoke of Christmas were to be found. Not a trace of joy of the season she loved so much. But he did find one thing. On the corner table beside his chair, he found their wedding photo. A blanket draped the armrest, loosely and unfolded. Anna was fastidious when it came to their home, so it struck him to see it flopped so carelessly. Picking it up to fold it properly, something tumbled to the floor, and he leaned over to find a handkerchief, balled and marked. Never again, he vowed silently. Never again would she face the possibility of more stolen joy, not if there was anything he could do about it. Anything that would bring a smile to her face, he would do in an instant. He would humor her every whim for the occasion, no matter how silly the idea might be. Even if she asked him to dress as Father Christmas and prance about, he would.

The day prior…

"Is everything all ready in the cottage for your new arrival?"

Lord Grantham's voice interrupted the rhythmic sounds of the brush against the Earl's morning coat. He turned, catching John with a raised eyebrow.

The question had caught him off guard. Not that it was unusual for His Lordship to inquire about his home life, but he was so lost in his own thoughts that it took a moment for him to grasp the question.

"Er, yes...quite so, My Lord." He grinned despite himself. "All that seems to be missing is the new arrival itself."

"Ah, I recall those days…" Lord Grantham trailed off, his gaze turning distant. "They weren't so long ago, really, except...well, they were weren't they?" He chuckled.

John had almost despaired of ever having children of his own. Even though it was a blessing that his marriage to Vera didn't produce any children, he tortured himself enough when after years with Anna, they remained childless. Worries of age and ability nagged him frequently enough, but the hope and desire endured in spite of that. It no longer mattered to him that his Lordship's daughters were grown women; his heart thrilled with the excitement that in a matter of a week or so he could be holding a daughter of his own in his arms. The smile he already wore broadened, causing the furrows alongside his eyes to deepen. He dipped his head in an attempt to hide it from the Earl and turned to busy himself with the cufflinks on the tray before answering. "Time does have a funny way of moving faster than we'd like, and sometimes not nearly as fast as we'd like."

"Well, I do appreciate not being goaded about being an old man. I am a grandfather, after all. Oh I apologize, I mean to say I'm a 'donk' now," the Earl joked.

"Unfortunately, My Lord, that would point a finger at my own age, and that is something I'd rather not do."

"Indeed." Quiet settled over the dressing room for a moment. "Will you and Anna be joining us tonight, or will she be up for it? I know she's always enjoyed it in the past."

The Christmas Eve celebrations at the Abbey were always a much anticipated event for Anna; and John would readily declare he was happy whenever she was happy, even if he'd rather stow away with her beside the fire with a good book. This year, she was quite insistent upon not staying at the great house. "Actually, we were thinking we'd spend it a little differently, that is, if it would be agreeable with you, milord."

"Oh, nonsense, my good man. What do you have in mind?"

"She tells me she'd like to spend the evening alone at home while there's a chance for us to have a quiet night with just the two of us. Lord knows it won't just be the two of us next year." He blushed lightly before he continued. "I just wish there was some way I could do something a little extra special for her. She's always enjoyed Christmas, far more than I."

"Why don't you take the afternoon and see to it?"

Aghast at the prospect, he looked to Lord Grantham with wide eyes. "No, milord, I wouldn't want to put you out. I've trespassed on your kindness far too many times."

"I insist. Finish up here and go into town. Do whatever you need. If anyone asks, tell them you're on an errand for me, surely no one will question that. If you're back by the gong, no one will be the wiser and you can take her home for the night after you've finished up here." He clasped his hands together excitedly. "Golly, I'll even make sure Mary is in on it. Oh, what fun."

The more John thought about it, he had to admit it sounded more appealing. Could he really pull it off a stunt like that? There wasn't much that he could get past Anna, but it'd be a thrill to try. Just seeing the look on her face would make it all worth it.

By the time he was on his way into the village, he still wasn't completely sure of his plan. Mostly, he was waiting for inspiration to strike as he went along. He knew for sure there were some gifts he wanted to purchase. Thinking back on his silent promise, he smiled. He knew exactly what he was going to do...

He ushered her over the threshold and held his breath. It was perhaps the first time he was truly thankful that they hadn't yet upgraded to electric lighting. He wanted to see her reaction. The sleeves from her coat swished behind him while he turned to lit the nearest lamp, nervously biting down on his lip. He turned in her direction before he brought the flame to its brightest, filling the space with an amber glow. She was still fussing with the coat hooks, unaware.

"Here, love, let me take your things-oh!" Her arm paused in mid-air, outstretched towards him. Her eyes widened, adjusting to the light in their sitting room, surprise written across her features. Her surprise was quickly overtaken by confusion, and in the space of a breath was replaced by delight and excitement as she looked to all corners of the room. Weeks ago she had placed a wreath, with its red bow, on the front door, and strung together on the mantle, an evergreen swag of pine, cedar and holly. At night, after they returned to the cottage, she had been linking together bits of colored paper into a chain while they had their tea. She was planning to hang them tonight, but he had already managed it and several other things. They were swinging gently along the edges of the room and were met in the middle by red and green paper bells. A modest tree was stood in front of the window with thin, red candles attached to the ends of the branches, begging to be lit. When Anna squinted, she could make out the label "Tinsel Garland" on one of the boxes stacked near the tree, but she suspected that wasn't all there was.

John's lips curled into a sly smile as he watched the evolution of her expressions as she took in what he had done. "Happy Christmas, my darling," he whispered. "...Do you like it?"

"Oh John, this is so wonderful," she gasped. "But, how did you-"

"I told you, I can manage," he interrupted her with a chuckle.

"You silly beggar," she teased. She turned to press herself into his arms. Her girth didn't make it as simple a feat as it used to be. She ran her fingers along the edges of his coat. "Honestly, John, how did you do this?"

"Well, I wouldn't want to give away all of my secrets," he winked, "but we can thank Lord Grantham for his many 'errands' today." He pulled in a deep breath before continuing, "and possibly Lady Mary…"

"Ugh, I knew it! I just knew she was acting funny. She had me looking all over creation for a hair piece she hasn't used in ages," she pushed back, flailing her arms gently, "and then it was like she couldn't be rid of me fast enough!"

"Surely you don't mind now, do you?"

"Well, no. It was for a good cause," she giggled, and leaned to place a kiss on his cheek.

"Why don't you go ahead and get comfortable, I'll collect some more wood. It'll be just the perfect night for a fire."

It would seem they had made it home safely just in time. Snow was starting to coat the ground in a layer of white just outside their cottage. Closing the door solidly behind him, he shook off the flakes that landed along his shoulders and hair. A secret smile spread across John's face. His shoulders shook softly with silent laughter when he saw that she had already lit several more lamps throughout their home and was already scuttling about the kitchen. It was a marvel to him that she still had so much energy at this point in their day, let alone at this point in her pregnancy. After depositing the logs beside the fireplace, he returned to the entry to hang his coat on his hook. Patting his hands down the length of the woolly material, he stopped when he heard the crinkling from within the pocket. He worked the crepe paper crackers from their hiding place, glancing up to ensure Anna was still distracted elsewhere. They were a gift from Mrs. Patmore. While Anna was yet preparing Lady Mary for the evening, the box, laden with images of wreaths, laid open on the table in the servant's hall. The multicolored tubes were lined up waiting to be set about the table for the evening's celebrations when the cook scurried through, catching him in her sights. At her insistence, the two bon-bons were stashed away quickly and were only now brought out for their intended destination: the tree. He smiled as he tucked the treats away in the boughs for her to find later that night or the following morning. Only one final touch remained. Pulling a small bundle of mistletoe from his breast pocket, he secured it above the stairway. His mind whirled as it conjured images of what a gesture like this could lead to if their circumstances were different. If it weren't for the baby and how near it was to being born, what playful turn could've taken place? Placed right along their path to the bedroom, could it have led to a night full of impassioned kisses and the tangling of sheets? Would she have taken control of the situation or would she have demanded he set the tone? Clearing his throat, he shook himself from his reverie and reminded himself of his task of setting the fire.

The strong hold of John's pomade had long since worn off, and the addition of snow moistened his hair, allowing it to hang the way Anna had always loved it: loose and unruly. It was the side of him that only she was privy to and the awareness of it warmed her. She was the only one who saw "Mr. Bates the Valet" unbuttoned and uncensored. When they left the Abbey, at night, she was the one who watched the layers unfold until her husband, her John, was revealed. She counted her blessings for it every day. Now, as she leaned her shoulder against the doorway to the kitchen, she watched him stoke the fire in the hearth. If she were honest, she'd admit it wasn't the only fire being stoked. With his shirtsleeves rolled back, she could see the hair of his forearms bared to her. The muscles underneath his skin worked as he set another log in place. Then, when he flicked his head back to reset that willful lock of hair that fell into his eye, he sent a thrill through his wife. Her resolve was no match for that. Taking care not to disturb the moment, she approached from behind him. He only startled when she raked her nails softly across the breadth of his shoulders.

Standing at once, the worry flashed across his face as he prodded her, touching the sides of her protruding belly "What is it, love? Is everything alright? Is it the baby?"

Making a shushing sound, she ran her fingers up through his hair to brush it back from his eyes, placing the other hand behind his head to pull his head lower so she could place a kiss on his lips.

"What was that for?"

"For being so handsome…" she scratched his forearms lightly, "and charming…"

"I sense another 'and,' " he teased.

She squinted at him, "and…cheeky." She giggled with him. "Honestly, that hair of yours does things to me, John."

"In all these years, you've never mentioned it."

"Haven't I?"

"No…but it certainly would have spared some work for me in the morning if I knew that. I could've had more time."

"Time for what, reading and brooding?"

He reached out to pinch her bottom, eliciting a loud squeal. With a proud smirk, he rumbled, "Other things, my darling."

It wasn't often that he could get his wife to blush any more. Most of the time it was she who set her sights on him and made it a particular mission to see him flustered. He decided it was a nice change to have the tables turned.

"Mr. Bates, you certainly were busy this afternoon," she remarked as she dug into the boxes.

The shining garland looped about the branches, reflecting the flickers from the fire every few moments. An array of glass balls, spirals, and colorful cardboard characters meant to decorate their tree were laid out in their boxes, mussed from Anna's enthusiastic rummaging.

He stood, hands braced on his hips, proudly admiring his accomplishments. "I would've hung these up too, except I thought you'd rather we do it together."

"You thought right." Lifting a particularly delicate glass piece, she cooed. "These really are beautiful. I don't want to think what an expense these were," she sighed.

"And I don't want you to either. It doesn't matter right now anyway, you deserve to have them. We deserve to have them," he corrected himself, raising his palms slightly before resting one on her lower back. "Besides, think of them as an investment. Wouldn't you like to have something to pass on as a tradition to our Baby Bates?"

Her head tilted slightly as she regarded him. "You really are something, Mr. Bates."

"I do hope that's a good thing."

"The very best," she smiled broadly and resumed placing ornaments on the branches when a pair of hands reached from behind her, encircling her belly as she stretched for the highest bough. She bit down on her lower lip when she felt him nuzzling into her neck. "Mr. Bates," she laughingly began, "what would our son think if he saw you like this?"

Still working on the exposed skin under her ear, he quipped, "You mean our daughter? I think she would know for sure that her father loves her mother."

Anna turned in his arms. "I believe that deserves a kiss, Mr. Bates."

John didn't practice religion. He'd been known to take a knee with Anna in prayer now and again, and he was no stranger to the writings of the bible. Since she was a small girl, it was Anna's tradition to reread the story of the birth of Christ on Christmas Eve, and it was a tradition she carried into her marriage. Hoping he would find his faith, John's mother left him her bible. With its delicate pages and binding still as secure as the day it was printed, it was a precious heirloom saved for occasions like this.

Anna had tucked herself under his arm as they shared the settee, extending her legs along the rest of the cushion. At her insistence, he read aloud from the gospel, his voice resonating through his chest. Two cups of tea and a saucer of biscuits sat on the table beside John, half-consumed. The thin candles on the tips of the tree, they had lit earlier, burned steady and soothingly while they cuddled together. He paused his reading for a moment to take in a deeper breath when a rumbling sound stopped him. It was followed closely by another rumble. And another. He laughed soundlessly when he glanced down to see her, eyes closed and lips pursed in sleep. Taking that as his cue, he quietly closed the cover and placed it next to a teacup. For a moment, he simply watched her. The flames in the hearth danced and snapped before them and was the only other sound in the room aside from her breathing, now escaping in huffs.

Memorizing her was one of his favorite pastimes. He could recount every line and freckle about her and the way her hair would curve around her pillow, or in this instance, the way it was pushed up against his chest. A few wisps escaped and settled across his waistcoat. His eyes swept across her form, down to her stockinged feet and back up again, to settle on her belly. Her rounded shape was of particular interest to him and he stretched out the arm behind her shoulders to reach for the swell there. Spanning only a portion of it, he spread his long fingers to caress as much of his baby as he could, only to be met with a gentle nudge of a passing knee or elbow. The feeling never ceased to take his breath away.

"Well hello, Baby Bates," he whispered.

He marveled at the sensation under his fingertips. There was never a time that he wasn't excited to meet his child. Ever since Anna met his eyes in the servants hall and gave him the news he'd been longing to hear, the anticipation had been almost too much for him to bear. He'd never wanted anything more. And now that they were so close to realizing their dream, he was practically out of his skin with excitement.

Another thump shook him; this one waking up Anna with its ferocity. Her hands quickly found the source and began rubbing as if to soothe the baby.

"I know, love, you're up, you're up," she crooned as she shifted herself to sitting.

He chuckled beside her and helped her readjust herself, now facing each other. "We were about to have a lovely chat, she and I." Wiggling his fingers at her, he looked at her pleadingly.

In mock seriousness, she pretended to think it over. "Oh alright." He was almost touching her when she continued, "But you'd better warm your hands up first."

"Your wish is my command, Mrs. Bates." He clapped his hands and rubbed them together furiously, making a show of blowing warm air on them while laughter took hold of his wife.

Anna gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes awaiting the touch of cold fingers when he unbuttoned the middle of her dress to access her belly.

"Baby Bates," he leaned in to whisper to her belly, "I hope you're as excited to meet us as we are to meet you." Smiling up at Anna, he continued, "But as your father, I feel obligated to tell you to behave yourself in there and not wake your mother up like that. Don't raise a fuss, my darling little one. We'll see you soon."

"Your daddy is being silly now," she added.

Their cheeks hurt from the wide smiles they wore and their hearts were full to bursting.

"I'm so excited, John. I can't wait." She looked to him with shining eyes, brushing her hand against his to interlock their fingers over the swell that was their child.

"Nor I. But all in due course, I suppose. She'll come when she's ready."

"Of course he will," she countered and they shared a laugh.

Addressing her belly again, he spoke, "So, little one, tomorrow is Christmas Day. And we want you to know that there are gifts waiting here for you...and as for us, you are all the gift we need." He paused and looked at Anna again and winked, "But I made sure there are some things for your mummy even though she made me promise not to. She deserves to be spoiled, don't you think?" An answer came in the form of a swift kick. "I knew you would agree."

Anna mouthed to him, "Silly beggar," shaking her head slightly.

"Merry Christmas and goodnight, little love. Mummy and daddy love you very much." He bent deeply to press a kiss to her belly before closing her buttons again.

"What would I do without you?"

"I believe I've asked you the same thing before, my darling," he quipped.

They rested together for some minutes before they became aware of voices outside. Starting low and becoming increasingly louder, they made out choruses exclaiming "Gloria in excelsis deo," accompanied by the crunching of snowy footsteps.

"Oh John, it's carolers!" Anna exclaimed at the knock at their door. "Let's go see!"

A small band of well-wishers from the town gathered in front of their row of cottages. The neighbors huddled in their own doorways to enjoy the cheer. Like the Bateses, they too had received a knock of invitation to join in the revelry.

Anna found herself swaying despite her size, her husband's arm draped protectively over her shoulders. A smile spread across her face as she came to the realization that christmas cheer seemed to spread to him as well. She felt the exhalation of his breath weave through her hair and she relished the feel of him there. She'd always loved the sound of his voice. Years ago, long before they declared themselves to each other, they would sit together during breaks in their day. After the others had gone to bed, they would read aloud; but it was hearing his rich tone flowing over the pages that pleased her the most. And even more pleasing, and far more rare, was when he sang. It was a special treat. John surprised her more than just a little as he sang along to each one of the songs. She held on to a thread of doubt when he expressed that he was the happiest he's ever been, but his actions fully dispelled it.

The singers offered a few more carols before departing and were applauded and thanked effusively by each of them.

"That was lovely," she remarked as he locked themselves inside for the night. "You certainly seemed to enjoy that."

"I haven't been visited by carol singers in a very long time, in fact, probably not since I was a boy."

"Nor I. I've always been up at the Abbey every year at this time. Who knows, maybe they've always come around?"

"Perhaps," his eyes held a glint of joy, "we can find out next year...and we'll have one more set of ears with us."

Their future, for once, finally looked promising. It was about time that fate did them a favor and let them live their lives without complication, and from where they stood there was nothing but clear skies ahead.

"Just how many gifts did you get, John?" She shook her head with a laugh.

"Oh, just a few things for the baby." He ferreted out a number of boxes wrapped up in brown paper and tied up with string from places Anna didn't even realize existed in their little home.

"For our baby who's not here yet to open them?"

He bent to place a few packages within the branches and in the shade underneath. "If you must know, there are some for you in here." He places a hand up to stop her from arguing, "I don't care about the expense. We have the money, and there's nothing wrong with using it for a special occasion...like a man spoiling his child and its mother on Christmas."

"You dear man," she said while producing a pair of packages from behind her back, "you're not the only one entitled to do that." She placed them down carefully beneath the tree and reached for his hand. Nodding at the candles on the tree, she looked to him, "What do you say we snuff these out and head up to bed?"

Smoke swirled from the tapers as they walked hand in hand to the stairwell. She took a step up on the stairs before he tugged her hand to turn her around. Now eye to eye, he tipped his head up in hopes she would follow his gaze.

"Mr. Bates," she smiled, admiring the mistletoe he pinned above their heads. "You truly did think of everything, didn't you?"

His eyes held a glint of proud mischief as he reached for her, pulling her close for a kiss. Resting their foreheads together, she sighed.

He pushed back to look at her. "What's wrong?"

"Do you still want me like this?"

"I don't understand." He was baffled. He couldn't imagine a situation in which he wouldn't want her. She was the whole of his world.

"Like this," she gestured awkwardly down her body.

Beginning to understand, he repeated his sentiments from years before. "My darling, I would love you however," he paused to kiss her cheek, "whatever," he kissed her other cheek, "whenever," he met her now-smiling lips, before leaning closer to her belly, "….and especially like this." He placed a kiss there too. "You know what I think?" She raised her eyebrows at him in response. He hooked a finger under her chin, coaxing her closer, and growled a whisper in her ear, "I think we should have a very happy Christmas."

And so they did.

AN: I hope everyone liked this bit of 100% fluffiness, but especially Awesomegreentie ;) Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read, and I would just like to ask for a quick note to let me know what you think. Merry Christmas!