Disclaimer: Downton Abbey and its characters belong to Julian Fellowes.

When Springtime arrived at the Abbey after a very long Winter, everyone's spirits were lifted. The servants were able to retreat to the courtyard during their breaks. There was slightly less sniping at the dining table. Even Mrs Patmore's demands were not as harsh anymore as she received the newest fruits and vegetables of the coming season, thanking the heavens for a bit of colour and flavour in her food once again.

The servants were all gathered around the table that afternoon. Some reading, some playing cards, others mending or in Thomas' case, just smoking whilst plotting their next strike.

They were all in a rather good mood and relaxed when His Lordship's surprise entrance made everyone to stand to attention.

'Good afternoon, everyone!' he announced. 'I hope I'm not disturbing you.'

'Not at all, your Lordship,' Carson replied, sending a warning glance around the room.

'Good. Well...I have an announcement to make,' he raised his hand, holding up a piece of paper. 'There is going to be a boxing competition next month, and I've received an invitation from the village to have someone presenting the house.' Everyone looked at him, curiously. 'I don't want the House to lose due to not having anyone to representing it.' He paused, 'And I think, it would be a good entertainment for everyone, plus we are raising money for the school and the hospital.'

'I'm sorry, My Lord,' Carson interrupt, 'but who would represent the House? I'm afraid no one here is a...boxer?'

'I heard Mr Johnson's son is going up for the village. He had proper training in London, and won several fights. Who's the fool competing against him?' Jimmy word's made Carson eye him wide in reprimand. 'Sorry, My Lord,' the boy said, looking down at his feet, chagrined.

'Well...I was thinking you James, or maybe Barrow? You have until tomorrow to sign up. Think about it and let me know. You must decide by tomorrow afternoon, do not forget!' His Lordship demanded and with that he left the room.

'He better not count on me,' Jimmy sneered. 'I'm not going to be anyone's punching bag.'

'I wouldn't mind showing that girl's blouse that he's not the pride of our village though. He thinks too much of himself,' Thomas said, breathing in his cigarette.

'What about your hand, Mr Barrow?' Ivy asked.

'My hand is fine, just got a scar. Plus those gloves they fight with are as thick as brick.'

'Well, one of you will do it and you must decide. His Lordship is waiting,' Carson demanded, in no uncertain terms.

'Maybe Mr Bates wants to sign his name for a change,' Thomas teased.

'I would if you were the opponent, Mr Barrow. You can be sure of that.' John looked up from his book and Anna rolled her eyes at them.

'Stop you two,' she said. 'And Mr Bates doesn't know how to box anyway.'

'But he knows how to threatens one's teeth,' Thomas snapped, that long ago threat still fresh in his mind.

'What? What is he talking about?' Anna asked John.

'Don't mind him.' John squeezed her hand under the table. 'Should we go to the village now? You said you need to buy buttons.'

'Yes. Let me just fetch my bag.'

XXXXXX

'So, Mr Barrow,' Mr Carson said at dinner, 'you are signing up, aren't you?'

'I'm not sure yet. I'll sleep on it and let you know tomorrow,' Thomas answered smugly.

'I thought you wanted to teach young Johnson a lesson...afraid to now?' John grinned.

'Oh! And Mr Bates,' the butler continued. 'His Lordship chose you to be the trainer.'

'What?!' Anna exclaimed in confusion looking over at her husband with a surprised and questioning look on her face.

'He said that if there is anyone who can give this house a victory, that someone is Mr Bates, but I suppose you don't want to fight yourself…or do you?'

'I'm afraid not.' John gave a slight smile.

'Well then, you're training.'

'But...' John desperately wanted to excuse himself but he didn't have a chance. Anna's mouth was half opened trying to understand what was happening and he saw in her eyes that she was not pleased with what she was hearing. Not one bit.

'If he's training I won't be fighting. I don't need...him to train me,' Thomas remarked, almost offended.

'I wouldn't train you even if I were paid to do it.' Bates barked back.

'Well, someone has to represent this house!' Mr Carson huffed.

'What, Mr Bates? Afraid I'll knock you out?' Thomas asked teasingly.

'No, Mr Barrow,' John spat out his name, 'afraid I would keep my promise about your shining teeth!'

'Bet you can't even punch straight,' the under butler smirked.

Mr Carson raised his brows. 'According to his Lordship, Mr Bates was the best fighter he's ever seen, back in their army days.'

'Back in their army days, Mr Carson? Back in the past century? How long ago did you leave the army? Fifty years ago?' Thomas laughed.

John stood up from his seat and placed both hands on the tabletop, leaning in towards Thomas. 'Let's make a wager, shall we?'

'Mr Bates!' Anna tried to get his attention but it was too late. John saw nothing but his pride, something so foreign to everyone in the room that no one could take their eyes off of him. Even Mrs Patmore, Daisy and Ivy came from the kitchen to watch in amazement.

'You sign your name and I'll train you, and when you win you'll thank me in front of the crowd.' John said, looking at his rival with defiance.

Thomas did just the same and stood up, leaning towards John with his hands on the table. 'And if I lose?'

'What do you want?' John challenged.

'I want you to take your words back and to apologise. Also, polish the silver for a month.'

Mrs Patmore gasped, raising her hand to her heart, 'That's beneath a valet's dignity!'

'Well, I guess he'll just have to get used to it.' Thomas smiled provokingly.

'It's a deal, Mr Barrow. It's a deal.'