A/N: A little piece of canon era Bates family fluff for the birthday of my dearest friend, KristenAPA. Happy birthday! *hearts* I hope your day is wonderful and that you enjoy this fic - and that other readers do, too.
As always, I don't own Downton Abbey or any of its characters.
Cold Feet and Warm Hearts
Evening was her favourite time of day, but it went by far too quickly. Each one seemed to be shorter than the last, though the coming of summer meant that the opposite was in fact true. Each one spent in much the same way as the previous. Before, routine had provided comfort. Something to rely upon when she couldn't always place faith in herself. Now it brought immeasurable joy, every second that had been longed and prayed for savoured that they were coming to pass, filled with soft gurgles and brand new smiles. Each one adding lightness to her heart, already lifted so much since his arrival.
The clock ticked gently, not as obviously as the many ones lined the walls and corners of the big house. William still murmured in fascination, waving his little hands in order to try and catch the sound. Senses like a hawk. They'd need to keep their eyes on him as he grew older, but for now he was held safe in her arms. Their son. So much pride to accompany the joy. The most beautiful boy.
It was wrong, she knew, to keep him awake just a couple of minutes longer. She couldn't do it every night else they'd find themselves in real trouble. She was already finding herself weary, barely disguising her yawning as she went about her work. Poor Nanny likely cursed her, dropping off a baby quick to grizzle due to lack of sleep. She couldn't imagine it; he was always so pleasant with her. There had been many comments at the house, from those downstairs and upstairs alike, about what a good and charming child the Bateses' was.
Her mind was mulling over the quandry, had done so for some weeks. This hour of the night was not the best time to pay proper attention to it, but as the day darkened to its close it often also shed light.
She allowed herself another cuddle before, a little reluctantly, she lowered her arms, settling William into the cot. He whimpered and kicked his legs initially, not wanting to say goodnight so soon, but he soon calmed, his big blue eyes staring up at her as she arranged the covers around him. She caught hold of a flailing fist with her own, kissed the tiny fingers and left a smile against the warm skin. She patted his stomach before swaddling him, not so tight that he would hardly be able to move but enough that he would be cosy and warm. The back of her hand stroked against the fine, fair hair covering his head; even from this distance she could deeply inhale his distinctive baby smell.
"Snug as a bug," she uttered softly, smiling down at her boy who blinked back at her.
He took some time to drift off, no doubt not helped by her cajoling and fussing. She simply couldn't help herself though. As daft as it sounded, she missed him while he was sleeping, having to fight the urge to wake herself every half-hour through the night to check upon him, the little snuffles regulating her own breathing. Yet at the same time it appeared that nature had just as much of a pull as nurture. Though John was better in the mornings than she was they were both night owls. It had become habitual, the time of the day when they could spend most of their precious time together without interruption. That would change soon enough.
They had nobody but themselves to blame if their son turned out to take after them in being nocturnal.
After a little while and with enough time to spare they both relented. Anna smiled to herself, promising that this time tomorrow it would be a different story but knowing otherwise. She enjoyed the routine too much. She made a final move of snugging the blankets in a mould against William's feet, conscious of the cold even as the nights grew finer. There was nothing worse than having cold feet. They had kept her awake for hours as a child and as a maid too, making far too much noise as she rubbed her soles against the starched sheets in the dead of night. Now she had a husband to warm herself against, and the thought of his embrace set her off after the delay, content that her son was safe in the land of dreams.
Mornings were catching up to evenings, her natural waking earlier than years ago she would have ever imagined it could be. There was no sweeter way to start her day than being greeted by a gummy smile and a pair of chubby arms reaching up towards her, eyes brighter than the swiftly lightening sky.
William outgrew his cot quicker than they expected. He appeared to grow at an almost alarming rate, his long legs getting leaner as he became a toddler, though he still retained a little of his baby chubbiness. Most of it remained in his face, rosy cheeks the one contrast to his otherwise fair colouring. They thought themselves lucky that they had not disposed of the single bed that had occupied the room since they had first moved into the cottage, and still had good use for the cot since their daughters came along, placing them head to foot within it. Both hoped they might not grow as quickly as their brother had, else it would prove something of a squeeze for space.
The eldest Bates child eagerly looked forward to a story each night before bed, as read by his father. As much as they both doted upon him, so William adored both of his parents equally. Having spent the daytime with his mother, 'helping' her with the household chores and going on shopping jaunts when the weather was fine enough, the evening found him in thrall with his father, the boy following John around like his shadow. He thought of it as a blessing; many men in his position would come home to children tucked up fast asleep, hardly getting a chance to encounter them properly before another day dawned and it was to be off to work again. The girls were still in fairly frequent sleeping patterns but he would catch them between naps, and William was much more reliable, lively after having his bath. Some of the stories roused his attention perhaps more than was helpful, but most of the time they settled him well. John would smile as he looked down to see his son's head lolling against the pillow, blue eyes drooping shut.
"Sweet dreams, my lad," he whispered as he drew the covers over the boy, gently arranging his head on the pillow to an angle that would prove more comfortable.
He continued his reading in his own bed for a little while, eyes growing tired. Anna's soft laughter sounded by his side and he turned to discover what she found so amusing with a hint of a smirk crossing his expression, before he even knew what the matter was.
"You're squinting," she said pointedly, her arms folded against her chest and the sheets that covered them both where they sat, leaning against the headboard.
He frowned in reply. "I am not."
Even as he gave up for the night, he was aware that he was not being truthful with himself.
The gentle hint turned into a more definite giggle.
"You have reading glasses for a reason."
His shoulders slumped as he pondered, the glasses in question having been placed in one of the drawers downstairs by himself quite purposefully.
"They make me look old."
She fixed him with a look that should have caused him to run for cover, but instead it softened him to the core.
"John Bates, do not be ridiculous."
He didn't have a particularly good case – or indeed, any case at all – to argue.
"Well, they make me feel old," he retorted.
Not that he hadn't done so before, though in truth he had never felt older than the night before he set off on his journey to Downton for the very first time, feeling that life had knocked everything it could out of him. The opportunity to prove himself as Lord Grantham's valet would be his last, he had been quite certain of it.
If only then he could have been reassured about all that was on the path ahead of him, lying in wait. A wife that would constantly amaze him with her kindness and courage and her constant unwavering belief in him, which in turn made him feel much stronger than he actually was and though he was capable of anything.
Three beautiful children who gave him so much happiness with their very presence as well as a gift he never imagined that he would be blessed with, making him strive every day to be better and provide them with all he could to set them towards a shining future.
He had most certainly been renewed. Life beginning all over again.
He exhaled a sigh, his breath holding and his heart quickening with a touch of surprise as Anna shifted along the bed to occupy his side with him, her shoulder pressing against him and her lace-frilled nightgown doing everything to focus his attention.
"I think it's the case that you're only as old as the woman you're married to."
Held in captivation by her eyes, smouldering to a darker shade of blue, he placed a hand upon her waist beneath the covers, thrilling as he felt the warmth of her skin against his palm.
"And does that make me as racy as she is too?" he replied, his voice taking on a lower tone.
She smiled almost coyly, at odds with the rest of her, a hand placing itself upon his chest. "Oh, I'm not quite so sure about that..."
William was a clever child and had made a game for himself, one which on most occasions they were wise to and on this particular night managed to stop themselves from taking their intimacy any further before the situation could become quite unexplainable and definitely embarrassing.
It had begun when he had been taken poorly with a cold and fever. Both of them were heartwrenched to see their little boy in discomfort, and rather than take it in turns to sit up for the entirety of the long night by his bedside, John had suggested that they bring him into their bed – even if neither of them slept especially well they would at least have the comfort of knowing that they were close by should their son need or cry out for them. At the time Anna had said they risked making a rod for their own back, though she was quick to take William into her arms as he whimpered, planting soothing kisses on his clammy forehead.
Once again, John had to admit that his wife had been the one in the right. Ever since that night and just an hour or so after he had gone sound to sleep in his own bed did their boy come toddling in to their room, his face as innocent as the most guileless of creatures, tugging lightly upon the sheets before he would dare take the liberty of trying to clamber up onto the bed for himself.
John rolled his eyes towards Anna – another golden opportunity vanished like the wispy night wind – but he couldn't do so for very long, stretching his arms out to welcome their son who giggled as he was hoisted briefly into the air. Not only was he getting tall, he was getting heavier too, and John's arms ached faintly, thinking that he did feel his age for that particular activity.
As he nestled between them both, taking his place in the centre of the bed and taking out the teddy bear who had been held underneath one arm, William grinned as he looked up with bright eyes towards Anna, her face held in an adoring smile.
"Snug as bug!" he cheered, wriggling himself in the bed.
His enthusiasm for the midnight reunion roused his two baby sisters, who began to murmur from the cot to the side.
The parents smiled at one another, having more than an inkling that they would both be rather tired come the morning, but not caring too much. Moments such as these were too wonderful to pass up.
With five of them filling the bed both inside and out of the covers, they were all snug as the snuggest bugs indeed.
September was nearing its end, coming as a relief. Three years in they were used to the rhythms of life as proprietors of their little hotel and this summer season had been even busier than the ones that had preceded it, a spell of especially good weather bringing holidaymakers from far and wide to enjoy what Yorkshire had to offer – some even coming down from London itself. Sometimes they fancied that Lady Mary and Lord Grantham had put the word about on their respective trips to the capital – and a few of their recent guests had been so finely turned out that it wouldn't have been a surprise to discover that they were indeed good friends of the Crawleys – but there was little doubting on the fact that they had built up their business on their own merits, both knowing a great deal about how to treat the clientele like royalty, regardless of their stations in life.
They also benefitted from having a small band of staff of their own who were all well-versed with their own individual talents and always ready to offer service with many a smile. And their children had a lot to do with charming the guests by their presence, so much that quite a number returned for repeat custom. The twins, just turned four, were often the cause of many delighted coos echoing through the corridors, their cherubic faces melting the hearts of everyone they came into contact with. William was nearly six – though he was mistaken for older than his years, in many ways their deputy of staff as he strode through the dining room offering smiles and compliments to the customers alongside breakfast, luncheon and dinner.
Their hearts swelled with more love and pride than should have been humanly possible on receiving such lovely words on what splendid little ones they had and how they were a credit to not just them but the whole establishment.
Both of them always thrived on keeping busy, but John had to admit breathing an internal sigh of relief as business had gradually slowed over the last couple of weeks. The autumn would bring a welcome lull before things picked up again before Christmas and though he would certainly not be resorted to twiddling his thumbs he relished the chance for a few earlier evenings, a more leisurely pace. Being a hotel owner was hard work, and even now he would be more than halfway toward sleep before his head so much as touched his pillow, limbs weighed down with weary satisfaction and head whirling with figures that dashed up from the pages of the ledger.
His snores reverberated around the dark room as he sunk into a deep slumber not too long after fixing the last button up on the pyjamas Anna had left on top of the bedcovers, waiting for him to climb into. She had gone to bed before him, after settling the children and giving the baby his latest feed. He was nearly fifteen months now, the most marvellous of surprises to them all. Four seemed to be a rather fine number. Though they would have been just as blissfully content if William would have remained their only child they considered themselves truly blessed to have been gifted with such a family and now it felt like it was complete. Will and the girls had been going on quite a bit lately about the possibility of a puppy, but that was something to think about for the future. They would get excited over the littlest of things and so John rather hoped that the squeals that accompanied the thought of a dog roaming around the house would calm down eventually.
A series of gasps and faint giggles entered his dreams as he slept on, the scene ahead of him not as full of detail as it usually was. He sighed audibly as he felt his wife's arms go round him and her body press to his. He gathered her closer out of habit, nestling his chin upon the top of her head. By the time he woke – with the cover of shadow telling him that it was still the middle of the night – they were brought so close together that they well could have moulded into one singular being.
Even with the warmth of Anna huddled against him, her soft breaths steadily falling upon his chest, he still encountered a considerable chill – particularly towards the lower part of the bed. His knee had the tendency to protest against a lowering of temperatures and his feet especially felt cold. Anna was usually the one to complain of toes made out of ice – and he would never refrain from echoing his mother's old saying of 'cold feet, warm heart' back to her when she groused. He thought about shifting his feet over to his wife's side of the bed but he didn't want to give her a frightful shock by placing his chilly soles against her, so instead he rose up, opening his eyes gradually against the darkness. He relaxed Anna's hold from around his middle, releasing her with a consoling kiss upon her forehead which did not wake her either.
When he was alert enough that the shadows in the room materialised into something more identifiable he was quick to determine precisely what the problem was. Gone from their bed was their soft and very comforting duvet, leaving but a singular blanket – one which lay quite askew across the bed – and the sheet they lay under to cover them. No wonder he had felt so trembling with cold.
He climbed out carefully, leaving a still-sleeping Anna peaceful, and made sure to keep his steps as silent as he could make them while he passed the cot, moving out onto the landing. Going into the children's room the plot thickened as he found three empty beds, all minus duvets and with nearly every pillow missing too.
A most strange encounter, but one which became clearer when he reached the downstairs of their living quarters and heard the same chorus of laughter which had been apparent in his dreaming, now louder and struggling to be contained.
"Shush," a slightly more sensible though still joyful voice could be heard to say through the half-open door leading into the kitchen, "you'll wake up Mummy and Daddy."
"Robbie will already wake Mummy and Daddy," one of the girls replied.
"He wakes me up, when he is crying because he is hungry," the other exclaimed loudly – enough to rouse the entirety of the guests sleeping in the building next door.
"And just what is going on here?" John's voice added to the half-hushed commotion.
"Daddy!" the twins greeted him with great enthusiasm when he arrived in the room completely, though he could only hear their voices at first – they were hidden from view by the messily arranged array of duvets, blankets and pillows.
Eventually both heads, covered with golden curls, popped out to smile at him, brightness amongst the shadows.
"Do you like it, Daddy?" one of the girls questioned, quickly repeated by the other before their voices melted into an excited, incomprehensible babble of noise.
"I think I could come to a better decision at a more reasonable hour of the day," he answered soberly, one hand rubbing the dormant sleep from his eyes.
He should have been sterner than he was, given that it was the middle of the night that had followed a long day and he had had his cosiest bedsheet stolen, but the display – as well as the sheer delight plastered across his children's faces – had him completely softened.
"It was Will's idea!" the twins both cheered, as the rosy face of his eldest child slunk out upon his knees, the sleeves of his striped pyjama top being tugged at simultaneously by both sisters.
"William Bates," John uttered in a low, deep tone, attempting to show disapproval rather than great amusement, "have you any idea what your mother will make of this? Don't you think she has enough work to do of a morning, getting you all looking your smartest?"
The boy lowered his chin to his chest, his countenance making him look the image of Anna.
"I'm sorry, Pa," he piped, his eyes full of remorse. "The girls wanted to know about the den after I made a drawing of it, and then they wouldn't go to sleep until it was done."
John fought hard not to break into raucous chuckles at his son's earnest expression.
"Don't you go blaming your sisters, now. That's not a very honourable thing to do."
Will pouted his bottom lip as he pulled his shoulders back, trying to prove that he really was still a noble knight, just like the ones in the bedtime stories he so favoured.
The girls bounced upon their knees, crawling further forward until they could pull upon the legs of their father's pyjamas instead.
"Come inside the den, Daddy!"
"Please, Daddy, come inside!"
He found his resolve quite defeated, and the words that instructed his children to go back to bed without any delay died swiftly upon his lips as he found himself on his hands and knees, cocooning himself in the makeshift den that was by all rights far too small for him. He got in far enough that when he lay down, most of his legs were sticking out of the entrance, his head and shoulders laying beneath the wooden chair that propped up the 'roof'.
"What do you think, Daddy?" one of the girls continued to question as she climbed on top of his torso, "it's good, isn't it?"
He smiled, looking up at the duvet that had been flung over the top, its walls scaffolded by two pillows that were standing tall.
"It's very fine indeed," he uttered, looking towards Will who had lay down close, one of his sisters between himself and his father.
"I love it," said the daughter now climbing from John to nestle at his unoccupied side. "Can we sleep here every night?"
John couldn't hold back a chuckle this time. "I don't know what your mother would think to that. She certainly wouldn't want you catching a cold underneath these tiles." He grinned wider, adjusting both arms so he could scoop almost all of his children into his embrace. "But perhaps on special occasions."
Before he drifted off – with feet much colder than they were within the warmth of his bed – he caught sight of his eldest son's very pleased smile.
The morning had not yet come but Anna found herself awake, the alarm clock that was her youngest son calling her up into action. Out of all of their children he had been the most frequent crier but only ever to signal that another feed was due, and he ran so accurately to the second that she could not find herself disgruntled about it.
She got out of bed in a practised action, picking little Robbie out of his cot and settling him in place against her breast, smiling down sleepily at the dark head as he took his nourishment and comfort happily. It was only minutes after he pulled away and gurgled to say that he was quite full that she found John's side of the bed to be unoccupied, but his slippers remaining in place beneath the bedside.
Robbie wriggled in her arms, just as perplexed by his father's absence, so she saw nothing wrong in a little wander to see what the matter was. When she saw that none of her other children were tucked up in their beds either, the investigation could not wait any longer.
"Where have they all got to, my dearest?" she murmured to her youngest babe, who looked back at her with his amber eyes. "Shall we send out a search party?"
Once she had put on her robe she walked them both downstairs, and would have instinctively headed right towards the sitting room until she discovered the door to her left almost wide open. When she saw the sight of her husband's bare soles and long legs poking out from beneath a pile of blankets she fought the urge to burst into helpless laughter.
Holding the baby carefully in her arms she bent down, grasping the knitted patchwork blanket that she had crafted with her own hands – and which seemed to be currently acting as a door to the little house – and pulling it aside to peek into a scene which warmed her heart right through. It was only missing herself and Robbie, her three other children bundled around their father and all of them sleeping soundly, John's snoring sounding softer than it usually did. Perhaps it was the cushioning of the duvets that surrounded them which did the trick.
She beamed a smile, bringing Robbie's soft head closer to her chest and leaving a kiss upon his crown.
"Your da is a silly beggar," she whispered to her youngest son, who babbled in agreement. "His leg won't thank him for this come noon."
A few more mornings and afternoons passed until the family kitchen rang out with happy cheers and laughter, a new Bates castle being assembled in the middle of the room – this time big enough to fit all of their feet and all else inside.
And even Lady Mary and Lord Grantham would have agreed if they had been able to witness it, that a finer castle in all of Yorkshire could not be found.
A/N: The reason the girls don't have names is because this fic exists in the same 'universe' as Meant to Be, and I just haven't settled on what they will be yet...! (also my twin is free to fill in the blanks with her own headcanon)
This fic is loosely based on this prompt: "Person A wakes up in the middle of the night after feeling something constantly tug at their pillow. They find their child was trying to take it in order to build a pillow fort with the other next morning, Person B finds that their whole comforter is missing and goes to the kitchen, where Person A is asleep with their children around them."