Mary lay down on her boyfriend's bed, cosied up with the new issue of Glamour, the pen in her right hand poised. Having decided earlier today that her wardrobe needed some renovation, she had bought a stack of magazines and set about circling the outfits that she wanted. She frowned as she struggled to circle the new Net-a-Porter dress that would go so well with those Prada heels she'd circled in Vogue. She realised that the new pen she'd bought that day had run out of ink. That probably wasn't a good sign. Matthew was definitely going to have a word with her about her spending habits if he found out, Mary thought as she grinned to herself.
She and Matthew had been a couple for about two months now, and had taken the recent (and rather grown-up) decision to give each other a set of keys to their respective living quarters. They ended up spending much more time at Matthew's flat, though, seeing as Mary was still living in her parents' formidable ten-bedroom townhouse, which had apparently given Matthew some kind of agoraphobia. Plus, as much as Mary's parents adored Matthew, he didn't quite like the idea of risking awkward sex-related encounters with them. At Matthew's flat, they could be as loud, or as naked, as they liked.
Mary looked up from her magazine when she heard the front door open and close, and smiled. She knew Matthew probably wasn't expecting her to be there tonight, given that the football was on - Matthew was notoriously bad at paying attention to anyone or anything else if Arsenal were playing. But she'd already taken the day off work to give herself some 'me-time', so she decided to spend the evening in the company of her beau (even if it was 'company' in a loose sense of the word).
Matthew blew the air out of his cheeks as he dropped his files down on the dining table. His supervisor had let him leave the office at a reasonable time today, thankfully, knowing that Matthew had been eager to ensure he was home in time for the Champions League final. Matthew glanced at his phone- forty-five minutes to go until kick-off. He made a mental note to call Mary once he got changed, so he could have a proper conversation with her before the match started. He opened his bedroom door, freezing with his hand on the doorknob as he took in the sight of his girlfriend laying on his bed. Her hair was down and tousled, she wore black leggings, big fluffy socks and, the piece de resistance- the adorable, petite Arsenal shirt he'd bought her a couple of weeks ago.
He let out a grateful sigh before he pounced on her and found her lips with his, eliciting a delighted squeal. He kissed her slowly and sweetly, his tongue running along the underside of her top lip. She let out a little moan which became louder when his fingers slipped underneath her top to caress the skin on the side of her torso- this had become a habit of his whenever they 'made out'. Mary always scolded him for doing it in public, but he couldn't help it…her skin was so irresistibly soft and warm! Besides, Matthew was sure her protestations were feigned- he'd noticed that she'd stopped wearing dresses as much, in favour of more top/skirt combos…
"You", Matthew said as he pulled away and started nuzzling her neck, "are just what I need".
"Aww, did you have a bad day, darling?" she asked, running her fingers through his hair soothingly. If you'd told Mary Crawley a few months earlier that she would have uttered that sentence to anybody, she would have slapped you round the head and tried to get you sectioned. She had never been one for such sappy showings of affection, but being with Matthew had slowly changed that. As much as her head told her that the word 'aww' was massively overused and the go-to word for airheads who couldn't think of another way to converse, and use of the word 'darling' should be restricted to the elderly, she felt like it suited Matthew. He was a darling, after all. Still, she only ever used such language when they were in private.
"Just had to deal with some idiots who can't seem to follow coherent instructions properly", he mumbled into her neck.
"Well, they're probably not used to taking orders from an army man. You must be intimidating them, the poor things." Mary teased. Matthew had spent some time at Sandhurst, many years back, before he knew Mary. Apparently some girl he dated during university had broken his heart right after they graduated, and he wanted to escape for a while and 'release his aggression in a productive way', as he'd explained to Mary before they'd started dating. He'd attempted to sound manly enough to impress her, but it had only made her laugh in his face, and she'd subsequently made it a hobby of hers to use that information to emasculate him at any given opportunity.
"That's very funny, it gets funnier every time you mention it" Matthew said drily, removing his face from her neck to look at her mischievous face. "How was your day off?"
"Oh, it was fine, I woke up late and lazed around the house for a bit, clearing out my wardrobe, but Edith had her friends over and you know how dull they are, so I went down the King's Road to do a bit of window shopping. Didn't really buy anything, though, just got my nails done." She proudly placed her hand right in front of Matthew's face so he could admire the (no doubt, completely over-priced) handiwork of Chelsea's finest manicurists.
"Very nice", he replied, kissing her proffered hand, "and I have to say, this top looks very good on you. Maybe for your birthday I'll get you the whole team strip?"
"Er...are you sure there isn't anything else you'd rather buy me?" Mary had been hoping for something more along the lines of a romantic weekend away, or, let's face it, diamonds.
"I don't think so, no. Just think, you could wear it in bed and it'd be like I'm making love to my favourite girl and to my favourite team! At the same time!" Matthew exclaimed with unbridled enthusiasm, excitement lighting up his blue eyes. Mary couldn't tell whether he was actually joking or not, until he started chuckling at her panic-stricken face.
"Looks like I'm not the only joker in this relationship", she observed sarcastically, gently pushing his chest with one hand so they both sat upright. "Isn't the game on soon?"
"It is indeed. Are you going to stay and watch with me?" Matthew asked hopefully. Mary had previously tried watching games with him, but could only manage to pay attention for about ten minutes before she'd give up and leave the room. Matthew's even-tempered and patient nature seemed to fly out of the window whenever he was watching football, so Mary's frequent questions about why so-and-so got a free kick, what the offside rule is, and why all the players kept falling over so easily, didn't go down so well with him. So she'd figured it was probably best for her to either sit in silence for the whole match, or to just find other ways to occupy herself. She asked herself why she bothered spending time with him on match-nights in the first place, but then she remembered- Arsenal had been doing pretty well lately, and celebratory sex was always good. Consolation sex was alright too.
"Maybe!" Mary lied. She'd brought her stack of magazines and even her pedicure set with her, in preparation for the inevitable on-set of football-fatigue. But she couldn't bring herself to tell Matthew that when he was looking at her so earnestly. "Or I could try and make us some dinner while you watch?"
Matthew smirked. When he'd met her, Mary had never cooked a meal in her life. During her university days, she'd had her parents' maid bring her a supply of home-cooked meals every weekend ("It was perfectly within the remit of her job, Matthew!" Mary had tried to explain, in response to Matthew's aghast expression). Mary had simply had no desire to learn how to cook. But, when she met Matthew, he had been dating a girl called Lavinia, who had been the very definition of domestic goddess. Matthew had always raved about her cooking skills, and Mary had first realised that she harboured any romantic feelings for Matthew when she noticed a pang of jealousy while Matthew was describing an amazing chicken dish that Lavinia had thought up all by herself. Since then, Mary had begun to take this whole 'cooking' business much more seriously- a coincidence that didn't escape Matthew's notice. Unfortunately for them both (and for anybody else whom Mary insisted on cooking for), Mary's attempts still didn't have a very high success rate, which made it quite difficult for Matthew to 'be honest', as Mary had instructed him. He definitely appreciated the effort, though. It meant a lot to him that Mary Crawley, of all people, was going out of her way to try to impress him.
"You could do that, yes…" Matthew began gently, to avoid disappointing Mary, "but Rebecca called earlier and said her and Lucy might come round later with some takeaway. I can text them and ask to bring a bit extra for you too." Mary rolled her eyes. Matthew seemed to always be in the centre of a gaggle of women. Or rather, women seemed to always position themselves around Matthew. She couldn't blame them- after all, you'd have to be a pretty stupid woman not to find his intellect, easy charm and absurdly handsome face attractive, but some of the girls were just so obvious about it. Mary had never had to be obvious about her affections towards other men- quite the opposite, in fact. She'd gotten so much attention from the male species that she'd learned to put her guard up- it was only to be let down in cases of extreme attraction, such as her current squeeze.
"Yes, I'm sure they'd be delighted to hear that your girlfriend will be present at this romantic three-way dinner they'd had planned", Mary remarked drolly. Matthew sighed. He definitely knew what it was like to feel jealous- he'd had to put up with watching queues of men take turns in trying to woo Mary, while he himself fancied her. Thankfully, since they'd started dating the flies around Mary had dropped away. Strangely, though, his going out with Mary had only made him more attractive to other women…so he could understand Mary's annoyance. Still, he always tried to reassure her that she had nothing to worry about.
"They are nice girls, Mary. They even told me after they first met you that you're beautiful and look like you belong in the aristocracy. They wouldn't say that if they were trying to wrestle me away, would they?"
"Yeah, whatever." Mary didn't really have the energy to explain to Matthew the complicated ways in which women work. She leaned over and gave her boyfriend a sweet kiss on the lips, feeling the sudden need to remind him, and herself, that he belonged to her. "Shall we go to the living room? I know how much you like watching all that pre-match schtick." Matthew agreed, kissed her on the cheek and proceeded to sing some kind of Arsenal-related chant while making his way to the sofa. Mary sighed, knowing that that kiss was probably the last bit of attention she'd receive for a good ninety minutes.