A/N: This is my first venture into fanfic. Haven't written fiction in quite some time, so I'm a bit rusty. Apologies for any typos, but I knew if I didn't post this right away, I'd lose the nerve. Since this is a totally new venture for me, any criticism, responses, reviews, etc would be much appreciated. Was inspired to write this by the tidbit that emerged from the TCA panel about Anna and Bates getting ready for Valentine's Day.

Disclaimer: Because this seems to be a thing I need to have on the record, I don't own Downton Abbey.

How fitting of the wretched holiday, John thought, as Anna explained to him that Valentine's Day celebrates a martyr who rotted in prison.

And a bit ironic, he mused. John had always hated the day. Flowers and pink and hearts and men losing their wits trying to impress a special lady. It was never for him, and with the exception of a few years when he spent the holiday in a drunken stupor, he never had anyone he wished to share the sentiment with.

Until now, that is. But even with Anna in his life, the holiday brought back a lifetime of bad memories. Of Vera and too much cheap whiskey, the sour taste of hangovers and disgust that he would swear he could still taste in the back of his throat if he let himself drift there. Of drunken, near-unconscious lust. Such misplaced desire that it shamed him to this day and his ears reddened as he looked up and caught Anna staring at him from across their sitting room with raised eyebrows.

He nodded slightly at her and turned his gaze onto a stray bit of fuzz on his pants. It wasn't that he wasn't looking forward to spending the day with Anna, their first Valentine's Day properly together, but he found the pressure he was putting on himself to plan the perfect day a bit unnerving. Things had always come so naturally to the two of them that he simply wasn't used to having the duty of planning an outing fall into his lap.

His lap, god, he wished he could just pull her into his lap and experience their first happy Valentine's Day in front of the fire. That would be enough for him, and maybe for her, he thought with a grin, but despite his qualms, he did want to make their half-day special, to make it worthy of her.

"What's going on over there?" Anna's voice shook him out of his thoughts.

"What?"

"I could almost hear the gears grinding," she said, smiling at him from where she sat. "First you looked miles away and now you look quite scandalized."

"Oh, just thinking." Of you.

"Dangerous territory for you, and perhaps," she paused and smiled at him with that look in her eyes, "for both of us." She continued sewing a button onto one of Lady Mary's riding jackets, but stared straight at him, never breaking eye contact.

How she could continue to work the needle through the thick wool with a practiced precision while looking at him like that was something he would never understand, but also something he would certainly never tire of. He loved when she looked at him like that. His stomach pulsed, he felt his insides flutter. Still, after so many years of looking her and she at him, he could feel his skin flush under the intensity of her gaze. He shook his head. Like a lovesick boy, but, as always, he was her lovesick boy.

"Hmm," she tutted, looking back at her handiwork. "I'm sure I'll get it out of you somehow." She continued to gaze pointedly at the jacket in her hands.

"I don't know. I've been told I'm fairly brooding." Thinking their little game had stalled as she continued her work, he turned around and moved to grab a book off of the mantle when he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist. "Well hello," he whispered into the air.

"You're not about to sit down with that book are you?"

"That was indeed my intention," his voice lowered as he trailed off, turning to face Anna and looping his arms around her in turn. They stood wrapped in each other's embrace and John breathed out slowly, lips spreading into a smile that mirrored his wife's. She trailed her fingers up his neck and he drew a slow, steadying breath. "But you know, I'll never get to finish this great tome if you keep distracting me."

"I don't often hear you complaining about my distractions." She stood on her tiptoes and nuzzled her nose into the hollow of his neck, puffing warm air underneath the collar of his shirt. "But if you like, I'll leave you to it." Her fingers drew small patterns down his arms and she took a half-step away before John's hands anchored her back to him and he decided he would throw the damn book into the fire if it meant her soft touches would continue.

"I can read later," he told her gruffly, leaning down to whisper the words in her ear, grazing her lobe with his lips.

"Or better yet, tomorrow," she responded, finally edging just close enough so that her lips brushed the underside of his jaw and he gently lifted her face and crushed her even closer to him, enveloping her mouth in his. They took two synchronized steps backward, a lover's waltz, allowing him to lean back against the arm of the settee, taking some of the weight off his bad leg as his hands held her in place against him.

Anna moved from his lips to take a shuddering breath and he took the moment to stare at her flushed face, running his fingertips over her cheeks as if playing the most precious of pianos. He would never fully comprehend getting to hold her like this, touch her like this, in the privacy of their own home. God, how he loved her. He would give her the world if he could. He supposed he could at least give her a Valentine's Day to remember and if their current activities were anything to go by, he may even find himself looking forward to February the 14th.