A/N: A birthday fic for awesomegreentie. I hope you've had a wonderful day! :)
Based on the following OTP Prompt: Imagine your OTP sitting on a couch together and watching a movie. Person A is about to eat some popcorn when they pause, staring at the screen, until Person B tilts their head and snags the popcorn. When A glares at them, B smiles apologetically and kisses the now-empty tips of A's fingers. I also incorporated a little bit of bromance and the idea of John wanting to give up smoking for Anna, since I know that they're two things that awesomegreentie also likes.
Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey.
Netflix and Chill
John leant back in his chair, heaving a sigh. Of all the things that he hated, it was having meetings with the advertising team. Under normal circumstances, he was sure that they would get along well. Led by Thomas Barrow, whose mission in life seemed to be to antagonise him in any way possible, it was a nightmare that was almost too cruel to handle. Thomas opposed him every step of the way, bringing up ludicrous suggestions that simply wouldn't work, using his cronies to test his temper. James Kent, one of the new recruits, was his latest conquest. The lad was arrogant to a fault, and seemed to enjoy stirring up trouble. With his higher position, John had managed to exert his authority, but it had not been an easy victory. He could feel the beginning of a headache stirring. His fingers itched for something to do, and he gave in, sliding a cigarette from the secret packet he kept locked in his desk. Lighting it up, he leaned back in his chair, exhaling a smoke ring into the air. That was better. He leaned further back, taking another drag as he closed his eyes.
"I thought I might find you in here."
John jumped at the sound, yanking the cigarette guiltily from his lips. He looked up to find Anna leaning in the doorway, eyebrow raised.
"Please, don't stop on my account," she said.
"It's nothing," he said quickly, stubbing it out in the ash tray he kept hidden in the drawer.
"It's clearly not nothing."
"It was just a blip. I don't smoke anymore. It's just been a stressful morning."
"You don't have to explain yourself to me," she said. "You can do what you like."
"I've stopped," he repeated. "Look, I'm chucking the packet away."
He made a show of dropping it in the bin—though it was difficult to disguise the fact that it was half-empty, and had clearly been the victim of a feeble man. It was for her that he'd tried to quit in the first place. He'd noticed the way that she would stand a little away from him, or hold her breath as he flared up beside her, and it had strengthened his resolve to do something about the bad habit. He didn't want Anna to be disgusted by anything. She was his best friend.
And, more than that, she was the person who meant most to him in the whole world, even if she didn't know it. He wanted to be a man that she could be proud of, even if it was only as a friend. Over the two years that they had known each other, the faith that she had shown in him had been the thing that had got him through the days when the days had been bleak. Without her friendship, he wasn't sure what he would have done. He might even have been without a job, because Thomas had certainly taken an active dislike to him. If not for Anna ferociously defending him at every turn, Robert might have had no choice but to tender him his notice.
"Anyway, what can I do for you?" he asked now. "Do you need the approved marketing strategy?" Anna worked as one of the creative designers. She could make even the most dull-as-dishwater book sound enticing with her eye-catching covers. She had the most incredible artistic flair that he had ever seen.
"Oh, no, I don't need that yet," she said. "We're not starting until next week. I came here on a more personal matter."
"Sounds mildly racy."
"I don't think my forwardness is going to dispel that."
"Intriguing. Do tell more, Miss Smith."
She grinned at him, moving forward to perch on the edge of his desk. He refused to let his gaze flicker from her face. He knew what he'd see if he did look lower. The professional skirt hiked a few inches higher over her beautiful, shapely thighs. The fact that it was so business-like only made it sexier. His mind had wandered several times to what it would be like to place his hand on that thigh and hitch the skirt even higher, thoughts that he'd furiously put a stop to. Anna was his friend, and it was wrong of him to shoehorn her into his fantasy, no matter how much he silently ached for her. Anna was his friend first and foremost, and the last thing he wanted to do was jeopardise the bond that they had. They'd always had a flirty relationship, which had never really helped his heart, but he knew that it was because she felt so comfortable with him that she felt able to do so. People could flirt without it meaning anything to them. God knew he'd done it himself in the past, when he'd been much, much younger.
"Well, I've been thinking," she said. "How about we start watching that show we've both been meaning to get around to?"
That was certainly the last thing that he'd been expecting. "What?"
She tutted. "You know, that period drama."
Ah, yes. That. It wasn't really his kind of thing, but he had agreed to watch it nevertheless, rationalising that any extra time that he got to spend talking with Anna was time well spent. Between their individual busy schedules, there had simply not been time to do so, but he couldn't think why they shouldn't do it now.
"All right," he said. "What do you propose? We both watch the episode and then convene on Monday for an in-depth discussion?"
Anna fidgeted on his desk. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her skirt hitch even higher. He swallowed hard. Christ, he needed that cigarette, if only to calm his nerves.
"How about I come round to yours tomorrow?"
"What?" he said, the statement genuinely taking him by surprise. It wasn't as if she'd never been to his house before, or he to hers, but that had always been for work purposes, putting their heads together over a glass of wine for her and a soft drink for him as they came up with a campaign theme
that would take the publishing world by storm. When they socialised—and it was on a regular basis—they always went out.
"You have Netflix, don't you?" she pressed.
"Yes," he said, but it wasn't quite the truth. It had been his intention to subscribe to the site, but it kept slipping his mind, even with Anna's constant praise of the shows she watched on it.
"Then I'll come over to yours," she said. "We can watch it together and discuss it as we go along. That's always much more fun than trying to make notes to remember after the weekend. We can make a night of it. What do you say?"
"That would be nice," he managed. Christ, it would be more than nice. An evening with Anna was the best thing that he could possibly think of. Socialising was usually low on his needs, but every moment spent in her presence was utterly wonderful.
Anna's beaming face made his heart leap. "Excellent. We can smooth over the rest of the details tomorrow."
"Sure," said John, a bit stupidly. She didn't seem to notice, hopping down from his desk, skirt falling back into its proper, decorous state.
"I'll see you for dinner tomorrow," she said. "I can't slip away today. I'm snowed under as it is."
"No problem," said John. "Rob's probably free. Have a good afternoon, Anna."
She nodded, and in the next moment she was gone. John leaned back in his chair, rubbing at his forehead, wondering just what had happened over the last few minutes, lingering over Anna's perfect, enticing thighs. Good God, he definitely needed a cigarette now.
"Blimey, that's certainly a step in the right direction."
Robert crossed his feet at the ankle, tilting his head to the side as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. Lunchtime had found John with his friend outside a quaint sandwich bar, nearly freezing their balls off because they'd both agreed that they needed a sneaky fag. Cora had been on at Robert for ages about giving it up, especially with the health scare that he'd had recently, but both men had been struggling. They had both agreed to tell themselves that they were doing better than they were. Christmas was just around the corner. Perhaps it could be a New Year's resolution.
"It doesn't mean anything," said John, tapping ash off the end of his own cigarette. "She's just coming round to watch a bit of telly."
"Then why is it bothering you enough to tell me? You wouldn't have brought it up if you weren't looking for my opinion."
"Why does telling you mean that I'm looking for your opinion? That's ludicrous."
"Come off it, Bates. Since when have you ever gone into detail about what you do with Anna? Half this time I've been wondering if you're just shagging each other on the sly, you're so cagey about it."
"We're not shagging on the sly," John said indignantly.
"So what makes this any different to what you usually do with her? You're always hanging out with each other. Nothing new in this." Robert shot him a cunning look, putting his cigarette aside long enough to take a bite out of the tuna panini he had purchased. "Except there is, isn't there? You wouldn't be so worked up if this was just a regular meeting. So this means it's different. You want it to mean something different, and that's why you've told me."
"It's not like that at all. I'm just…I don't know, I suppose I feel a little awkward about it. It'll feel a bit strange to socialise at my house. She's only ever been for work related purposes before."
"Doesn't mean that she can't want something more. You know, Mary tells me that she hasn't had a date with anyone else for years. And she was never close with Watson when he was here, even though they worked together constantly. Bit of a coincidence, don't you think?"
"No," John said staunchly. "Anna's friendly with everyone."
"But she doesn't socialise with them all outside of work," Robert said triumphantly. "Elsie, Beryl…"
"They're old enough to be her mother. She's always with Gwen and Ethel and Daisy. They're close to her age."
"Yes, but you're not. There's something there, whether you want to admit it or not."
"That's made me feel much better," John said grumpily.
"What? You can't deny it, you are older than she is."
Which was part of his worry. As much as he liked her, he was well aware of his own unsuitability. His age. His infirmity. His past struggles. None of that pointed towards the kind of person that Anna should be with. She deserved someone young, whole, unblemished by the world. She deserved stability and a family if she wanted one, and someone who could give her the whole world. He was not that man.
"So, what's she invited herself over to watch?"
John debated lying for a moment, if only to preserve his sense of masculinity. "That period drama that everyone's been raving about. It's a Netflix exclusive. We thought we might give it a go."
Robert set his cup down with a smug clatter. "Ah, that explains a lot."
"What do you mean?" asked John, furrowing his brows. He hadn't wanted to admit that it wasn't really his kind of thing for fear of making Robert latch onto the notion that he was only doing it for her, but it seemed that he had arrived at that conclusion all on his own.
"She's hinting at a Netflix and chill session. You are one lucky bastard."
John was at a loss. "A Netflix and what?"
"Chill, mate. Netflix and chill."
"Repeating yourself doesn't shine a light on what the bloody hell you're talking about. You might as well be talking Dutch." In fact, John had picked up a little of several languages due to his time in the army. Anna had been impressed when she'd found out and had begged him to teach her, even though he was hardly qualified to do so. Still, hearing her speaking French with that sexy Yorkshire accent had meant a straight week of cold showers.
"Get with the program, Bates. Even I know what that is." At John's raised eyebrow, he relented a bit. "Oh, all right, I heard that young ruffian Tom Branson discussing it with Matthew." There was a mild sniff of disapproval, likely at his probable son-in-law being caught up in such unsuitable things. "But Netflix and chill definitely means that she's expecting you to do her good." He made a crude hand gesture, as if his words wouldn't be enough for John to get.
John promptly spat out his mouthful of coke, garnering disapproving looks from the old ladies occupying the next table. Hoping that they hadn't heard, he hissed, "What?"
"Netflix and chill," Robert repeated casually, popping a chunk of his sandwich into his mouth, "means that she's expecting some fine Irish shagging, my friend."
John set his glass down with a thunk. "You're having me on. You're winding me up on purpose."
"As if I'd do that," said Robert. He was worryingly straight-faced—usually he couldn't help but burst into guffaws if he was having a joke. "Tom Branson said that he'd been Netflix and chilling with his girlfriend."
John just barely managed to avoid choking on the bite of sandwich he'd taken. He knew exactly who Tom Branson had been referring to if that was the case, even if Robert was ignorant. Perhaps it was a good thing he was for the moment—no father would want that kind of information about his daughter, and Sybil Crawley was undoubtedly the woman that Tom was referring to. They'd been keeping their relationship a secret, and John would still have been blissfully ignorant to the whole thing if he and Anna hadn't walked in on them in the staff closet together, tongues firmly down each other's throats.
"I see," he managed, attempting to pull on his best stoic face for the both of them—the last thing he wanted was to be dragged into that particular discussion. "Well, I still say you're wrong. Anna's been excited about watching this show for a while. She's just never got round to it yet."
But still, now that the seed had been planted, the thought lingered like a weed.
Anna was waiting for him the next morning when he pulled into the car park. She bounded over to him with a smile.
"So, are you all ready for tonight?" she asked without preamble as he wriggled out.
"I am," he confirmed, locking it firmly behind him. He'd subscribed to the free month's trial last night in advance. "It's all set up."
"That's good. What time do you want me over?"
"Is seven all right? I know it's a Friday, but I wouldn't want to keep you forever if you have other plans for later."
"I don't," she said quickly. "Unless you don't want me?"
"No, it's definitely not that," he said, horrified that she might think it. "I just wouldn't want you to feel obligated."
She rolled her eyes. "When have I ever felt obligated to spend time with you? You're my best friend, John."
"Doesn't mean that you wouldn't enjoy spending time with other people more," he told her gently. "I'm not completely comfortable in very social situations."
"And I like that we don't have to do that kind of thing when we're together, so hush. I'll swing by mine so I can get changed. What are we doing about food?"
"I'll sort it," he said. "Don't worry about that."
"All right. I think I've got a busy schedule again, so I'm not sure if I'll be able to slip free. I'll see you later."
"Looking forward to it," he replied, and watched her walk away, his heart somewhere in the region of his throat.
The day passed quickly, in a haze of anxiety. John had found it difficult to concentrate beyond the facts. Anna was coming to his house tonight, on a personal call. She was going to eat with him and sit on his settee while they watched the television. Last night he had gone resolutely from room to room, scrubbing everything in sight to ensure that there wasn't one speck of dust that she could pick up on, but even knowing that his mind whirred. Should he buy a bunch of flowers to add a more feminine touch, or was that not appropriate? Was he truly certain that he'd moved all the dirty laundry from the bathroom? Should he pop to the off-license on the way home for a bottle of wine? Not for him, of course, but he could hardly expect Anna to refrain on his account.
"You all right there, boss?"
He glanced up to find young William Mason, his eager protégé, staring at him from the other side of the room. He cleared his throat quickly.
"Yes, thank you, William," he said. "I'm fine."
William shot him a quizzical glance, but thankfully did not press further, going back to his own work. John chewed at lip, and leaned back in his chair. Good God, what a day.
He spent longer than he usually did agonising over every detail of his appearance that night. A long, hot shower had been the first port of call, followed by five outfit changes before he settled self-consciously on a pair of jeans and a nice shirt. Casual, so as to not draw too much attention, but smart all the same. He'd squirted aftershave because, really, there was no excuse for not smelling nice, but his hair was refusing to behave. Defeated, he capitulated and went back downstairs to make sure that everything was in order. He'd called at the off-licence on the way home for the wine, and had picked up various nibbles to keep them entertained while they were watching.
At seven on the dot, the front doorbell rang. He'd been pacing in the kitchen for the past half an hour, too full of nervous energy to sit still, and he sprang forward now. He cast one last surreptitious look in the mirror hanging in the hallway, suddenly eternally grateful that his mother had bullied him into purchasing it, before pulling open the door. Anna's beaming face greeted him at once. She was clutching her handbag and a plastic carrier between both hands. God, she was beautiful, her sexy, tousled hair looking as if it had had hands running through it, her pretty blue dress barely coming to mid-thigh, showing off her gorgeous legs despite the cooling weather. He couldn't help but stare.
"Well, aren't you going to invite me in?" she said with a giggle, raising an eyebrow at him. He remembered enough of his manners to stop gaping, clearing his throat and stepping to the side.
"Of course," he said. "Can I take your bag?"
"No, but you can take my jacket," she said, stepping into his hallway. John's mouth was dry as he dutifully moved behind her, reaching up to her shoulders. She shrugged the jacket off, and his fingers grazed her arms as he gently drew it down. Christ, she was so soft. He caught the flowery scent of her hair as she flicked it over her shoulder. He resisted the very distinct urge to lean forward and bury his face in it.
"Go on through," he said, hanging her coat up for her. "Have you got anything I can put in the kitchen for you?"
"You can put these in there for the time being, if you'd like," she said, holding up the carrier.
"And what is it, exactly?" he asked, taking it from her.
"Snacks, of course," she said as he peered inside. "You can't have a night in watching the telly without snacks."
"Clearly great minds think alike, because I stopped off on the way home to restock too. But it looks like you've brought enough to feed ten, never mind just the two of us," he teased.
"What can I say? I like my chocolate."
Chocolate and crisps and even a tub of ice cream. John stored that in the freezer and put the rest of the goodies on the counter.
"Can I get you a drink?" he called.
"A coke would be good. Thanks."
"Sure you don't want anything stronger? I picked up some wine with the snacks."
"Better not. I'm driving and I don't want to risk anything, even with a glass."
"Probably wise." John pulled the bottle of pop out of the fridge and retrieved two glasses from the cupboard. He poured the drinks and took them through.
Anna had seated herself on the two piece sofa, legs tucked up beneath her. John debated whether he should take the chair now, but decided that there was no real harm in taking the other side. She looked completely at ease, taking a sip from her drink when he passed it to her, sinking back against the plump cushions. She looked almost too at ease. Like she was at home. He had to look away, taking a swig of his own drink.
"I thought we might order takeaway," he said.
"Sounds good to me," she replied. "Nothing beats takeaway and the telly, in my book. What did you have in mind?"
"I was waiting to hear what you thought. I've got leaflets for almost everything. They're more worn than they should be, I have to admit." He was relieved that she had agreed so readily to something bought in. It wasn't that he couldn't cook, although he was far from the greatest chef in the world. But a home cooked meal seemed far more romantic than a phone call to the local take out. Take out was safe territory. There didn't need to be a finely set table or candles, or any of that kind of thing.
Anna tutted. "I keep telling you, you need to look after yourself."
"It's so much easier for a bachelor living alone. I'd only burn the house down otherwise. Mother has tried in vain for years to make me a better cook, but to no avail."
"Then perhaps we should join forces. I'm sure that between the two of us we could manage to whip you into shape."
"It would be the first time in your life that you'd be proven wrong. Now, what would you like? The choice is yours, milady." He flapped the leaflets under her nose, and she took them, sifting through them until she'd settled.
"Pizza?" she said, looking to him for approval.
He nodded. "Works for me. What do you want?"
Whilst he rang the takeaway to issue the order, Anna began to couple the laptop to the TV, ready for later. John watched her out of the corner of his eye. It was such a domesticated scene that he felt that it could almost be a vision from the future, Anna pottering around in his living room, completely at ease in the habitat. He was so mesmerised watching her, he was almost wrong-footed by the snap of the chap on the other end of the phone, demanding to know whether he'd finished his order or not. He had half a mind to complain about bad customer service, before he was distracted by Anna's winning smile. Hastily confirming that that was everything, he ended the call. Anna had succeeded in cabling the two devices together.
"How long did they say it'd be?" she asked, moving to sit on the settee again. "I'm starving. I only managed a quick sandwich for dinner."
"They said half an hour," said John, resuming his seat. "I take it that was down to Mary?"
Anna launched herself into a speech about her latest designs, and John sat back, happy to listen to the cadence of her voice, interjecting only occasionally to let her know that he was listening. When the pizza arrived, they ate in the living room, John deeming it a much more casual place than sitting across from each other in the kitchen. They rested their drinks on the coffee table, and exchanged slices of pizza to try out each other's tastes—that, John could admit, was more like something that would happen on a date. But the road was smooth, and conversation flowed without the slightest hitch. He'd always loved that about Anna, how she could draw him out of his shell and make him the person that he was always supposed to be. She had a way about her that never failed to make him laugh or smile, a knack that no one else so far had mastered. He was his best self only with her, and he was grateful every day that she had shown him that he could be a better man. After his divorce from Vera, he had been listless and angry, not sure where he could turn or how he could begin to pick up the pieces that his life had been shattered into. Anna had guided him forward with her stout friendship, and no matter what came in the future, he would always be thankful to her for that.
When they had finished eating, Anna sat back in her seat.
"I'm stuffed," she announced.
John took the box from her hands, lowering them and the remains of the garlic bread and wedges to the side of the chair. "So I take it that you won't be wanting any of the goodies that are sitting in the kitchen?"
"Oh, no, that's quite different. There's always room for dessert, it's the most truthful rule in the whole of society."
"If you say so. Do you want to go and fetch them while I set this thing up properly?"
Anna nodded, unfolding herself from the sofa. He turned his attention to the laptop while she went, accessing the website and the relevant series. When she returned, she spread the second feast out across the coffee table, getting herself comfortable on the sofa once more. He set the first episode going and then reclaimed his space beside her.
As far as TV shows went, this wasn't half-bad. Whilst not usually John's cup of tea—he much preferred the thrill of a car chase round London—the writing was beautifully crafted, and the cinematography was stunning. Adding that to the beautiful costuming and the stellar acting from all across the cast, and he found himself engrossed.
He was so absorbed that he was startled out of his spell by Anna's movements. She had gravitated naturally towards him, clutching at the huge slab of chocolate that they were sharing. Now her thigh was pressed against his. It was delightfully distracting.
"Lift your arm up," she said, bumping her shoulder against his.
"What?" he said, his mouth suddenly dry.
"Are you deaf?" she teased. "Lift your arm up. Your elbow is digging into my side. Unless you're afraid of a bit of friendly cuddling?"
"I'm not," he said, though his tone was far from calm and collected. His pulse throbbed in his throat. His arm felt like lead as he moved it to the back of the sofa, giving Anna access to his body. She took up the invitation at once, getting herself more comfortable as she pulled her legs up under her and rested her head against his chest. His whole body tensed up. Good God, how was he supposed to survive the next few hours? He could smell the scent of her hair, her head burning against the place where it rested. Tentatively, he dropped his arm around her, and she sighed when he pressed his palm to the small of her back, shifting closer. He didn't dare take his eyes from the screen.
As time passed, however, he began to relax bit by bit. The quality of the story pulled him back in, and the secret bliss he got from having Anna like this was beyond anything he had ever felt before. The illusion would be shattered too soon for his liking, so he had to soak up every second that he could get. She'd moved just long enough to trade the chocolate for the popcorn, and the bag sat on John's lap, for ease of access for them both. He tingled whenever she reached down and snagged a piece, and he hoped that she was as engrossed in what they were watching as he had been, because he was sure that his face was glowing warmly. Even that didn't stop him from enjoying the silk of her hair as it occasionally brushed against his chin, or the slight weight of her as she pressed into him, or the curve of her breast through the thin layers of her clothes—which was decidedly ungentlemanly, but he was only a man, and a man who had wanted this woman for a very long time at that. God, he could get used to this. He closed his eyes, just for a moment, and pretended that he was in an ordinary domestic scene, the two of them curled up together at the end of a long day. Every so often they'd exchange little kisses, and after a while he'd offer to rub her feet, knowing that she'd worked hard all day—
"Earth to John Bates."
John opened his eyes, to find Anna's grinning face in front of him.
"Are you that bored?" she teased.
He could feel his face heating up. Not wanting to admit that it had been thoughts of her that had been distracting him, he muttered, "Sorry, I only drifted for a moment. It's been a long week."
Concern clouded her face at once. "I'm sorry. I should have thought about that. Do you want us to postpone? We can always pick up where we left off some other time."
"No," he said fiercely, perhaps a touch too quickly. He forced himself to slow, his cheeks burning. "That's to say, I just closed my eyes for a second. I was taking it all in."
"Right," Anna said, amusement in her voice. But, thankfully, she didn't pry further, settling her head back against his shoulder. He held her just that little bit tighter.
After the second episode, they took a brief break to refill their glasses, and Anna slipped off to the loo. John lamented the loss of her warmth as he settled himself back down. Surely the spell had been broken now, and they would carry on with the rest of the evening as if that glorious interlude had never happened. Mentally, he prepared himself for the distance that would grow between their bodies once more, the loss of her heavenly warmth seeping into him.
When she returned, he leaned forward and clicked the episode going. As soon as he leaned back, she vined herself around him once more. He closed his eyes, putting his arm around her as he had done before. Thank God for small mercies. He never wanted this evening to end.
"You're really comfortable, you know," she said as she placed the bag of popcorn back between his thighs.
"One of the perks of middle-age, probably," he said sardonically, patting his middle. He'd been lean and well-built back in his heyday, but the injury that he had received during his time in the army had meant that he hadn't been able to keep himself trim in the same way as he had before. Along with his mother's stodgy Irish cooking, the pounds had piled on.
"Don't be silly," she said. The ferocity of her tone surprised him. "You're perfect."
He snorted at that. "Hardly."
"You know I hate it when you put yourself down. If you could see what I see, you wouldn't be so harsh on yourself. You're the best thing to happen to me in a long time, John Bates."
"You're very sweet."
"I'm not being sweet. I'm speaking the truth."
"I'm sorry," he said, suitably chastened. "I won't speak like that anymore." Not around her, at least. He would never see himself as worthy of anything, not after the sins of his past, but he would do his best to control them when he was around Anna. He didn't want anything to come between them.
"Good," she said simply. "Now, let's continue, shall we?"
For the next half an hour, they were riveted to the drama that was playing out onscreen, taking it in turns to filch out a piece of popcorn, exchanging smiles when their fingers brushed. Anna's close proximity was still exciting, but it dulled a little, like a buzz from a high that had faded, whose ghost still remained, a memory still fresh enough to taste. On the screen, one of the daughters of the house was being seduced by a handsome visitor.
"Oh my God!" Anna gasped as the screen dimmed to sensual shots of bedsheets sliding over skin and lily white breasts and puffs of pleasure. She pushed herself away from him just a little, staring at the screen with avid interest. "I can't believe she's doing it! That's going to come back to bite her."
John made a noise that he hoped conveyed his agreement, keeping his eyes averted from the screen. He felt a little shy about watching such a scene with Anna by his side. The last thing he wanted her to think was that he was only enjoying it for one reason.
"Oh my God!" she squealed again five minutes later when the deal had been sealed and it cut back to a very dead ambassador.
"And here was me thinking that this was just a steady period drama," said John, but she shushed him. He huffed.
They spent the next five minutes in silence, watching the fallout. Anna kept reaching periodically into the popcorn bag for another morsel, chewing with a nervous intensity that he couldn't help but find endearing.
The more he watched her, the more he found himself distracted. When he was with her, it wasn't difficult. She was spellbinding, luring him in. How could he truly concentrate on some TV show when she was right there beside him? His gaze drifted, until he was watching her under his lashes, admiring the strong curve of her jaw and the sweet turn of her nose. Christ, he would never get over how beautiful she was, with the light highlighting every feature. She was so engrossed in the television that she didn't even notice the way he was staring, and he took the opportunity to commit every movement to his memory, knowing that it would have to last him a lifetime. She snagged another piece of popcorn, holding it suspended halfway to her mouth as she gawped at the screen. He stared at that lone piece of popcorn, held so delicately between those dainty fingers. The blood rushed to his head. There was something in that moment, with her pressed snug to his side with his arm still around her, the magical impossibility of them being together like this.
It was almost as if he wasn't in control of his own faculties as he leaned forward and eased the piece of popcorn from her fingertips with his mouth, his tongue brushing against her skin. For the briefest of moments, he closed his eyes, his blood humming with the boldness of his actions.
And then he crashed back to reality as Anna jumped beside him, whipping her head round to stare at him.
"What was that?" she asked.
"I'm sorry," he started to stammer, feeling the heat rising in his face. God, what had he done? Now she would think him no different to the rest, another creepy man wanting to get into her knickers, luring her here under the guise of a shared interest. "I…I just—"
Anna seemed very close, so close that if he glanced down, he would see the tops of her breasts in the vee of her dress. Swallowing hard, John kept his eyes trained on her face, his skin tingling as her eyes half-lidded, her gaze flickering down.
"I'm sorry," he said again.
"What are you sorry for?" she asked. She'd definitely hitched closer. Her hand touched his bicep.
"F-For…" His voice tailed off, hypnotised by the deep blue of her eyes.
"Well, I'm not sorry you did it," she said, her voice smoky. Sexy and low. He was struck dumb by her, immobilised by the hand on his arm. She was definitely moving nearer. She wrapped her spare arm around his neck, coaxed his forehead to hers like a siren. She took a moment more to search his eyes.
And then her mouth was on his.
He flinched at once, but the fingers on the back of his neck massaged soothingly, her lips so soft that they were almost dream-like, brushing enticingly against his and coaxing him forward to seek out his heart's true desires. Of its own accord, his hand came up to cup her face. She made a sound at that, and it arrowed straight down into the pit of his stomach. Her skin was impossibly soft, so delicate beneath his fingertips. He knew that it belied who she really was—she was a force to be reckoned with in any circumstance—but it felt delicious nevertheless. The pressure between their mouths increased, and now he felt the silk of her tongue against his bottom lip. The sensation was enough to jerk him back to his senses. Easing her away, he rested his forehead against hers for a moment before taking a deep breath.
"What are we doing?" he asked.
"Well, we were kissing," she replied, disgruntled. "Now I'm thinking about how irritating you are. Please be quiet, Mr. Bates." She tried to move forward again.
"But is what we're doing right?" he persisted, keeping at arm's length with every ounce of strength that he had.
"How can it possibly be wrong?"
"I don't want you to wake up in the morning and regret it." He had nothing to offer her. He was nobody. He was well past his prime, and she was in the flush of life, deserving love and happiness, marriage and children if she wanted it. She had kissed him, true, but it could easily be the heat of the moment driving her on thoughtlessly.
Now she looked affronted, which was the last thing that he'd wanted. "Are you implying that I've had a drink? That I'm somehow incapable of knowing my own mind?"
"Of course not," he said hurriedly. "It's just…there's work to think about. And I'd hate for anything to ruin our friendship." His speech about her finding a better man got stuck in his throat, choking him.
"How very noble of you," she said, but it was not meant as a compliment. They rarely ever disagreed, and she'd never used that tone of voice with him before. It rather stung.
It must have shown on his face, for her gaze softened. She took his face between both of her hands, and he was forced to gaze into the depths of her eyes.
"Can I ask you something?" she said. "Do you not want to kiss me?"
John licked his lips, uncomfortable. The best thing to do would be to lie, of course. If he didn't lie, it might influence her into thinking that he was worthy of her, that he could be deserving of her. The right thing to do was to set her free gently, damn the pain in his own heart.
But he'd never lied to her before. And, God help him, he couldn't start lying to her now.
"I do want to kiss you," he whispered, lowering his voice as much as possible in the hope that she might not catch his words.
"Then that's all there is to it," she said simply. "I want to be with you, John. I have almost from the moment that I met you. I like being your friend, but I want more. And whether you want to admit it to me or not, I know you want the same. I can feel it."
It felt as if something had broken inside him, that part of him that had held him in utter isolation for so long. There were things that needed to be discussed, boundaries to be set, but in this sphere, it all faded into the background.
"I want the same," he breathed, conceding the most glorious of defeats.
"You have no idea how long I've needed to hear you say that," she said.
"If it's anything like how long I've needed you…" he relied, laying his heart bare for her.
Smiling, she leaned in again, and their mouths met for the second time. It was beyond John's control. All he could do as she teased his lips open was to hold onto her tightly, his port in this mad storm.
This was beyond his wildest imaginings. Anna's mouth was warm and insistent, and she was unafraid as she guided him, her palm grazing his jaw and her tongue sliding sensuously over his. His breaths were shuddering and confused as they kissed and parted, kissed and parted. Her scent was everywhere. It was difficult to comprehend that she wanted this, that it wasn't another lonely dream conjured up by his wildest imaginings. This was all he had ever wanted. He was a weak, weak man, but being weak had never felt so freeing.
In the background, the period drama was forgotten.
Time ceased to exist as they learned more of each other. Positions were shifted and laughter was shared as their treats were spilled all over the floor. Bit by bit, John's insecurities were melted away in the face of her ardour. It wouldn't last, not forever. John knew better than anyone how the self-doubts would creep back in. But, for this golden moment, it was more than enough. Anna had now settled herself into John's lap, her hands sliding from his shoulders to his face and back again as they kissed. It was certainly a novel encounter. His stern Irish mother would never have allowed him to bring a girl home and snog her on the sofa like this.
They'd found a nice rhythm of taking charge and submitting. John's blood pounded through his veins, his heart palpitating wildly in excitement and disbelief. His hands trembled, betraying his nerves, but if Anna noticed, then she didn't comment. He was a little afraid that she would shift too much and have an effect on certain parts of his anatomy, but so far he had managed to keep his body under control. The very last thing he needed was to embarrass himself like an adolescent schoolboy.
At last, Anna eased away. He didn't let that deter him, moving to press light kisses to her neck.
"John?" she murmured.
"Hmm?" he said, his voice muffled by the sweet skin of her neck as he wreathed kisses around her. She tugged lightly on his hair, forcing him away. She cupped his cheeks and stared into his eyes for a moment before leaning down, kissing him languorously. He groaned in the back of his throat, cupping the back of her neck in the palm of his hand while she kissed him breathless. It took him several seconds to find the strength to open his eyes when she pulled away. She ran her fingers tenderly down his cheeks.
"Did you like that?" she asked.
"What kind of question is that?" he said feverishly. "Of course I did."
Her grin was akin to that of the Cheshire cat's as she bent down against his ear. He inhaled sharply as her hot breath teased at him, making the hairs on his body stand on end.
"Well, I'm afraid that you might have to treasure it," she breathed.
His eyes sprang open at once at that, and he pushed her away. Befuddled, he said, "What do you mean?"
"Welllll," she said, dragging out the word as she ran her palms down his chest, "I'm not sure I want a repeat performance."
John's heart plummeted at that, fear rising at once. He should have known. She was regretting her poor choices, regretting wasting even a second on someone like him. "But I thought—"
Thankfully, Anna didn't keep him in abject misery for long, moving closer so that her lips brushed against his as she spoke. "I always said that I wouldn't kiss a smoker. I don't like how it tastes. I'm afraid you're going to have to learn how to give them up once and for all if you want another kiss."
The iron vice that had clamped itself around his heart released at once, and he let out the breath that he hadn't even realised that he'd been holding, squeezing her hips in his hands.
"In that case, I think I have an easy choice to make," he murmured. "Looks like I'm an ex-smoker."
Anna giggled. "Good choice, Mr. Bates. Now, can I trust you to dispose of them yourself, or should I take them with me?"
"No, you can trust me. Although you're cruel for expecting me to go cold turkey."
"You haven't been very successful cutting down so far."
"I never had the right incentive until now."
"Hmm…well, I suppose I can agree to that. We'll see. Now, come on, walk me to the door. It's getting late. I should let you get some sleep."
John wanted to suggest that she could stay. Not for any sordid reason. But the idea of letting her go so soon after the kisses they'd shared was almost more than he could bear. He wanted to hold her in his arms all night long, to feel her weight against his side, the scent of her hair in his nostrils and the rhythm of her breaths in his ear, perhaps persuading her to abandon her maxims of not kissing a smoker.
But just because it was clear in his mind didn't mean that it would be in hers, and the last thing he wanted to do was frighten her and make her think that he wanted more from her than she was ready to give. She had been his friend first, and even with this gloriously unexpected change, that would always be so. He would say nothing that might dishonour her.
So he nodded, and she eased herself from his lap. He pushed himself to his feet and she took his hand immediately, twining their fingers together as he led her into the hall. She slipped back into her shoes and jacket, and moved over the threshold, her eyes shining from the artificial light inside.
"Goodnight, John," she whispered.
"Goodnight," he replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She paused for a moment before leaning forward, pressing her lips to his one last time. His hands automatically found their way around her. It was comforting. Natural. Like he'd been made to fit against her that way.
When she pulled away, she was grinning.
"Thank you for an educational evening," she said.
"I don't think we're the only ones who were educated."
She cocked her eyebrow at him, and he leaned closer with a conspiratorial smile. "I can see Mrs. Harrison's curtains twitching across the road. I never usually entertain women, and we've given her quite the show just now."
"What do you mean, 'usually'?" was Anna's tart reply, and he couldn't resist pulling her against him a final time, pressing his chin to the crown of her head. She wound her arms around his middle, hugging him tight. He had never felt something so perfect.
"Well, I've got to count my mother…"
"That's more like it," she said cheerfully. "I don't like being second best."
"You've never been second best," he told her softly, wondering if it was too much, too soon. The way her face lit up assuaged his fears, but now she eased herself out of his arms. He thrust his hands into his pockets to give them something to do.
"I'll see you on Monday," she said, then added tentatively, "unless you want to do something tomorrow?"
"Yeah, that would be nice," he said eagerly, only the slightest bit embarrassed that he sounded like an enthusiastic puppy. Anna looked no less chuffed at his response.
"Great. I'll text you when I get home."
"Please do. I'll…I'll see you tomorrow."
"You will."
With one last smile, Anna turned and walked away. John watched her go, waiting until she'd started the car and pulled off before returning inside and locking the door behind him. He leant back against it, chuckling softly. What a glorious, glorious evening.
It had not been Robert's Netflix and chill.
It had been better. Much, much better.
When Monday morning came around, John moved around the house readying himself for work with an extra spring in his step. He'd had the perfect weekend spent in Anna's company. They'd taken a picnic out in the countryside, lying back and making shapes out of the clouds. She'd dozed with her head on his chest, and he had leashed his self-control until it had been time to part for the evening, pressing a chaste, gentle kiss to her lips. She'd texted him to reiterate that she'd had a lovely day, and he'd glowed for the rest of the evening, happier than he'd been for a long, long time.
Now, for the first time, he didn't even care that he had to meet with Thomas Barrow in the afternoon, because it meant that he would be near Anna once more, if only for brief moments of his day. Perhaps she would agree to him taking her out to lunch. It wouldn't be anything fancy, but it would be something. The most exhilarating thing about the whole experience was the fact that despite them being old friends, the transition to something more didn't feel awkward or frightening or strange. Holding hands, wrapping her in his arms, kissing her, all of it felt like the most natural things in the world, as if they had each been born to fill that role for the other. John had never really thought about soulmates or fate or finding the perfect partner through the zodiac signs, but nothing had ever felt as right as this with Anna, even in the earliest of early days. He had wanted her for so long now, that to replay the weekend and remember that he had actually kissed her, felt surreal. His self-doubts hadn't dissipated entirely, but they had been muted in the dazzling light of Anna's certainty.
As he was knotting his tie, his phone buzzed. His stomach fluttered as he picked it up, unlocking the screen to find a text from Anna.
Meet me before work? X
Yes, he typed back, absolutely. I can be there in half an hour. He felt giddy sealing it with a kiss in reply, and had to chuckle at himself. Good God, he was in his early forties, and was acting as if he was having his first teenage crush.
Or maybe it went beyond that. Maybe it was love.
It was something he couldn't voice aloud. Not yet. Perhaps not for some time to come. He'd had these feelings inside him for so long, the lines of friendship and infatuation blurring rapidly. Infatuation could easily have turned to love without him even realising it.
Best not to think on it too hard. It was a worry for another day. For now, he had to enjoy every opportunity that came his way to spend time with Anna. He had never lived in the moment before, always trying to predict the future. Perhaps it was time he started to seize the day and learn to relish it.
When he'd had his breakfast, he took the familiar route to work. In twenty minutes he was pulling into the car park. His smile broadened when he spied Anna's faithful little Ford Ka, old and battered as it was, already parked up. She was waiting for him.
Without ado, he jumped out of his car and made a beeline straight for hers. She was out of it before he'd even made it halfway between their vehicles. Her own smile put the brightness of the sun to shame.
"Hello," she said when he reached her.
The simple greeting made his heart soar.
"Hello," he returned, catching her hand in his. She leaned back against her car, her free hand reaching out to clutch at the front of his suit jacket. Her eyes had darkened already, her head tipped back so she could drink in his features.
"I still can't get over this weekend," she whispered shyly. "I feel as if I've been living in a dream. I'm frightened I may wake up at any moment and find it's not real."
"Me too," he admitted.
"Should we pinch each other, just to make sure?"
"Maybe we should."
They reached out at the same time and pinched each other gently through their layers. John felt a slight sting. No, this was most definitely real. He laughed out loud, pulling her closer and stooping so that he could bury his head against her shoulder. She nestled against him, stretched up on her tiptoes so she could throw her arms around his neck. The scent of her perfume tickled his sinuses, and he breathed in deeply, committing it all to memory.
"It's real," he murmured against her neck. "Thank God for that."
"Yes, thank God," she agreed. "I've wanted this for a very long time. I told you that on Friday."
"I've wasted some of the time that we might have had, then," he said mournfully. "I never thought that I could be worthy of you. I'm not worthy of you. But I wish I'd been braver. We could have had so much more."
She pulled back so she could see his face, her own marred with a frown. "Don't talk like that."
"Well, isn't it true?"
"I don't know. Do you consider our walks around the park a waste? Or all of the times we've been out for dinner? Or what about the meetings we've had where we've both been so giggly that Mr. Carson almost threw us out? Do you think any of the time we've spent together as best friends has been wasted?"
"No," he said. He could never regret any of the time that he had spent in Anna's company, however it had been spent.
"There you go, then," she declared, satisfied. "Friendship is a better basis for a relationship than lust, John. I'd rather you want to be with me because you like me, not just because you want to shag me." Her grin turned naughty. "Though I hope you do want to shag me."
John's throat went dry as he stared down at her, looking at him from under her lashes like the temptress she was. What kind of question was that? He wanted her with everything he had. One day he hoped to lay her down and make love to her, to worship her the way that she deserved to be worshipped. And, yes, he wanted more than that too. He could feel his face heating up with his embarrassment, and he leaned forward to press his lips to her forehead, hoping that his touch could translate all that his words would be able to articulate.
Anna giggled against him. "You're adorable when you're embarrassed, has anyone ever told you that?"
"Not that I recall," he replied. "Besides, I'm not embarrassed."
"You are," she cooed. "You're blushing like a little boy."
He leaned down to kiss her, to quieten her more than anything else. It was a successful endeavour; her arms wound around him once more, and her mouth opened beneath his, her breathy sigh making the back of his neck tingle pleasantly. They were just growing in enthusiasm when the honk of a car horn behind them made them spring apart. Robert's grinning face greeted them. He'd rolled down his window as he cruised forward and took the space beside Anna.
"You old dog, Bates!" he crowed as John tried to straighten the front of his jacket. "What did I tell you?"
"What did he tell you?" said Anna, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
"Nothing," said John as nonchalantly as possible, trying to send an inconspicuous glare his friend's way, but Robert was as oblivious as ever. He turned off the ignition of his car and jumped out, his grin leery.
"I told him that you were interested," he said. "You know what a miserable old git he is, wouldn't believe it for the world, but I knew. So, did you Netflix and chill?"
John winced. Anna was young. She was bound to have heard the term before. Why did Robert have to be so intrusive? What if she now thought that all he'd wanted her for was sex, and she decided that it wasn't worth it?
But Anna only threw her head back and laughed. "A lady never tells of her conquests, Mr. Crawley."
"Ah, so you did!"
"Rob, for God's sake," John snapped. "What did or didn't happen is between me and Anna."
Robert blinked innocently. "Blimey, no need to be so shirty. Maybe you didn't after all. No one could be that grumpy."
"He is grumpy sometimes," Anna agreed with a grin. "But I don't like him any less for it."
"I'm just glad there's someone out there who can tolerate it. You're a saint, Anna."
"I know."
Robert checked his watch. "Anyway, it's almost time to go in." He cocked his finger at them. "Just remember, no canoodling in office hours. I don't want to have to drag you out of the store cupboard in front of everyone."
"I think you can trust us not to behave like horny teenagers," said John.
"Oh, I think I can trust Anna. It's you I'm not so sure about."
John resisted the urge to make a rude gesture with his hand. "Can you give us a minute?"
"Oh, of course," Robert said, the lecherous smirk returning. "Mustn't get in the way of the lovebirds. I'll see you in the office at eight fifteen sharp, John."
"Yes, I'll be there," he said flatly, and waited until his friend was a good distance away before sighing, scrubbing his hand down his face. "I'm sorry you had to witness that," he told Anna.
"Why?" she asked. "I'm not."
"All that talk of sex…he's got a one track mind."
"I'm not offended. And I don't care what other people will think, either. I'm not going to hide the change in our relationship."
John had wondered if she would prefer to keep it quiet for the time being. His heart leapt in his chest at the declaration that she didn't want to. That, above everything else, put his fears to bed.
Taking her hand, he murmured, "I think we should get going now nevertheless. You heard what Robert said. We'll prove to him that we can maintain our professionalism."
"You're right," she agreed. "But give me one kiss to take with me."
It was the loveliest of requests. Bending down, he melded his mouth to hers, lingering as she sighed into him.
When they parted, she patted his chest. "You smoked yesterday."
John's mouth tumbled open. "I didn't!"
"You must think I was born yesterday. You've been chewing peppermints like mad hoping that you've got rid of the evidence."
"What are you, some kind of bloodhound?" he said.
"No, that's to do with scent. I can still taste it on you. Thank you for confirming it."
"It was half of one," he relented reluctantly. "But it will be the last, I do promise this time. I just needed something to calm myself. I couldn't stop thinking about our kisses."
"I guess I should take that as a compliment," she laughed, grabbing her bag from the car. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she said, "So I'll see you later?"
"You will," he confirmed. "I'll come by at lunch and pick you up."
"Sounds lovely. I'll be waiting."
She squeezed his hand one more time and brushed past him, moving towards the entrance as more cars began to filter into the car park to start another long shift. John remained standing where he was, leaning against her car, taking in the sight of her swinging hips and those firm legs in her business suit.
"God help me," he muttered, and started off after her.
As the months passed, their early relationship blossomed. Strengthened by their friendship and easy companionship, it didn't take long for them to fall into an easy rhythm with each other. They never made a formal announcement that they had decided to see each other, but nor did they keep it a secret. Anna never shied away from kissing him outside her office door when he walked up to meet her for lunch. He wasn't afraid to walk hand in hand with her as they strolled outside to enjoy their break away from everyone else. The gossip and rumours followed them around, as it was bound to in such a working environment. Anna never paid them any mind, and John tried to follow suit. Sometimes it was difficult to ignore the whispers and sneers about the difference in their ages, but Anna always assuaged his doubts with the sincerity in her eyes, in her enthusiasm and joy for everything they did. Bit by bit, he started to believe that he really was the right man for her.
The transition from friends to lovers in the physical sense had been far easier than he could ever have hoped it to be. Anna's lack of awkwardness had helped immensely, countering his own anxieties about not living up to her expectations; her rasping breaths in his ear, the animalistic grunts of encouragement, the scratches of passion that she had inflicted to his back, all had served to boost his ego, and things had only got better from there. Sex had never been better.
Robert's ribbing about Netflix and chilling had been stored away in a dusty compartment in John's mind, almost forgotten completely. That was, until Anna, with a cheeky grin eight months into their relationship, found a TV show for them to watch, only to thoroughly distract him for the entire duration.
"You're in good spirits this morning."
John's happy reflection of the previous evening was interrupted by none other than Joseph Molesley, the shy and stumbling man who worked in the editing department. He was a kind, softly-spoken man, but John had never quite warmed to him. He refused to admit to anyone but himself that it was because Molesley had always had a crush on Anna, following her round like a little lost puppy. He didn't do that anymore, obviously, but John doubted that his feelings had changed. He still looked longingly at her when she entered the room, and he fell over himself to make her laugh.
Anna, sitting across the table from him as she poured over the most recent spec he had given her to work with, looked up and shot him a secret smile. She knew exactly where his thoughts were. She usually did.
"Am I?" he asked casually.
"Yes. You're humming."
"You never hum," Anna interjected playfully. "I hope I have nothing to worry about."
"Hardly," he grumbled, rolling his eyes at her. Her smirk was delicious.
"I hum if I have a flutter on the horses," Molesley said. "Sometimes I get a tenner back!"
"That'll make you a millionaire," John muttered under his breath, not loud enough for Molesley to hear, and Anna kicked his shin warningly.
"It's good that you gamble modestly," she said kindly. "Now, I think I have everything I need. I'll see you later, Mr. Bates."
John followed her to the door, slipping his arm around her waist. She used the folders in her arms to act as a barrier between them. It didn't deter him, dipping his head down so that he could kiss her chastely.
"I love you," he whispered against her ear. He heard her sigh contentedly.
"Love you too," she murmured in reply. She leaned up to kiss him one more time, lingered for a moment before pulling away and heading out of the office. John watched her go before turning back to Molesley.
"I suppose you're right," he said. "I am in a very good mood today."
"So, what's the big secret?" asked Molesley. John knew it wasn't intended as a slight. Molesley was often completely oblivious to the things that he was saying, never intending to cause offence.
He thought of the flickering of the television over Anna's features, her soft gasps in his ear as she pressed him into the settee. The slide of her skin over his had been irresistible.
"Oh, nothing in particular," he said and, knowing that Molesley was far too innocent and sheltered to have a clue what the double meaning of his words was, he added, "We just had a very nice evening Netflix and chilling."
With that, he clapped the other man on the shoulders and followed Anna out of the room, leaving Molesley blinking in his wake.