A/N: So, this is a bit late but it's meant to fulfill the challenge Chelsiefan71 dreamed up for a "Downton Abbey S7." It should have about ten chapters overall, and they'll be fairly short. Not beta-read so please pardon any typos.

xx

CSotA

Charles Carson slowly makes his way into the servants' entrance. He's finally managed to stop knocking on that door, after several scoldings from both his wife and the current butler. It had seemed inappropriate to him to just walk in when he's not employed there any longer, but he supposes it could be worse: the family could have insisted that he use the front door … in which case he'd be meeting Elsie at the path to walk her home instead, because there is no way he'd ever pass through the front door of Downton Abbey as a guest.

He's feeling a bit anxious today, truth be told. It's been a very long week and Elsie has put in many extra hours preparing for some special guests who will be arriving in the morning. She's managed to finagle a full day off the day after their arrival by working out a special schedule with her Ladyship, and Charles knows that his wife has no idea of what he's trying to piece together for that day off. The problem is, things aren't quite as well put-together by this point as he'd have liked, and the stress of the unknown is wearing him down.

You'll just have to persevere, he tells himself as he takes a seat in his wife's parlour. Because it's her birthday in two days' time, and no amount of worrying is going to change that.

"Mr. Carson?"

He turns at the sound of the cook's voice.

"Don't bother, I'm about to sit myself," she says, clearly exhausted. She deposits a tea tray on the sideboard and then takes Elsie's chair with a huff.

"Daisy just finished the cake and has sent it out the door with Andrew," Mrs. Patmore whispers. "With any luck, your wife will be detained a bit longer upstairs - and by this tea I've just brought - and you won't even encounter him on the path to the cottage."

"Thank you," he says with a broad smile. "That's about the only part of this entire plan that is going well."

"Oh, no. What happened?"

He turns his head to verify that no one is lurking outside the doorway before replying.

"It hasn't arrived," he whispers, clearly worried.

"What? But it's been ages!" Mrs. Patmore's eyes are wide. "Surely they confirmed that it would be ready on time?"

"That they did," he nods. "And I phoned yesterday just to be sure, and they told me it was just completed."

"And so it will be delivered … when?"

"I thought today," he replies, dejected. "So hopefully tomorrow."

"Well, I suppose you're lucky it's being delivered at all instead of simply mailed through the post."

Charles starts as he hears his wife's heels clicking on the floor; he and the cook jump up, and Mrs. Patmore reaches for the tea tray she brought in and pours three steaming mugs for them.

"There you are," Charles says, his voice rumbling as he bends to kiss Elsie on the cheek.

"Mm, hello, love," she murmurs, clearly struggling with fatigue. Charles squeezes her hip briefly but then backs away. He's become more comfortable expressing his love for his wife under their best friend's eyes, but he's ever-conscious of the open door to the sitting room.

"Mrs. Patmore, thank you for this." Elsie accepts the cup of tea and takes her seat, noting silently that it's warm and smiling at the cook in thanks for keeping Charles company while he waited.

"My pleasure."

The three sit in silence for a few moments, each of them lost in their own thoughts, before Elsie yawns loudly.

"You need to be getting home," Mrs. Patmore says with a raised eyebrow. "I've no doubt that tomorrow will be an early start and another late finish."

"Ah, but you see, tomorrow I can spend looking forward to having the next day off," Elsie says with a tired laugh. She puts her teacup and saucer on the tray and adds her husband's to them as he fetches her coat from the rack.

Mrs. Patmore looks on fondly as Charles attends to his wife, helping her with the coat and holding her hat while she does up the buttons.

Elsie catches her friend's glance in the mirror. "What is it?"

"Oh, it's nothing," Mrs. Patmore replies, shaking her head and smiling. "Just … you two."

"What about us?" Charles asks.

She picks up the tea tray and nudges the door open with her foot before turning to answer.

"I'm glad you finally got there in the end, Mr. Carson. That's all. Good night, you lovebirds." With a nod in Elsie's direction and a smirk, Mrs. Patmore turns and exits the room, somehow managing to pull the door shut behind herself.

Charles turns to his wife with his eyebrows raised, looking a bit embarrassed despite his happiness. "Lovebirds?" he whispers.

"Oh, Charlie," she coos, putting her hands on his waist and pulling him close. "She's right about that, you know."

"I beg your pardon?" he replies mischievously. "Charles Carson is no lovebird."

He bends down and she and kisses him firmly, breaking away only when she hears him hum happily.

"I happen to disagree. And as nice as this is, and as unusual as it is that no one walked through my door just now, I need to be getting back to the cottage before you have to carry me there."

He reaches for the door and opens it, then places his hand on the small of her back as she walks through.

"I would, you know," he murmurs in her ear as she passes by.

She stops short and turns to face him, her eyes full of her adoration.

"I know you would, and I love you for it." She takes a step closer and stands on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, "But if you put your back out before my special day off, Charlie, I'll never forgive you."

And, with that, she turns and leaves a stunned (and slightly blushing) husband in her wake.

"Are you planning to walk me home, Mr. Carson?" she calls down the servants' corridor.

He shakes his head to clear it and hurries to her side.

"Always, Mrs. Carson," he smiles. "Let's go."

TBC