A/N: This is a birthday fic for fuzzydream. Since I started posting my work here, she has been an incredible source of support, offering very kind words which have always encouraged me to keep on writing for the A/B fandom. I am in awe of her talent, beautiful writing and capacity for the most imaginative ideas. As well as being an inspiration, she has become a very dear and wonderful friend, so I wanted to do just a little something special for her special day and to show my appreciation *stops before she gets too emotional*

So, Fuzzy, Happy Birthday, this one's for you and I hope you enjoy it! We're so lucky to have you sailing this ship and I hope you never stop writing beautiful scenarios for our favourite couple. (and you get the S4 trailer as a birthday present too, you lucky girl! ;) )

In Bloom

Anna loved flowers. It was one of the first things he had noticed about her, aside from her traits of kindness, warm-heartedness and prudence that she had displayed from the moment they had met. That, and her enchanting smile, which took on an even more delighting quality when she happened across a bloom on the verge of bursting to life.

No matter the task, she could always spare a few seconds to stop and admire, sometimes even bending her graceful figure to pick a small one that wouldn't have been missed. Sitting quietly in the servants' hall, John could always tell when she had been for a wander in the gardens. The fragrance stuck to her, mingling with the clean scents of cotton, Lady Mary's powder and her natural perfume; an intoxicating blend to his senses. But it was the smile on her face that was unmissable, casting light and an almost other-worldly glow all around her. She truly was a child of nature, and the images that came effortlessly into his head made him flush in his seat. Before he scrambled up, on the pretence of remembering a sudden errand that had to be run for Lord Grantham, he caught a final glance of her, smiling to herself as she unfurled the little flower from where it had been tucked in the pocket of her apron, dipping her nose to brush against the delicate petals like a child sneaking a spoonful of sugar. Her innocent act set a skip in his step for the rest of the day.

She took such care whenever she assisted with the displays in the house, and in the months and years that went by, he developed a keen eye too, not out of any great knowledge but purely from her fancy. Flashes of colours on the edges of the gardens would hold his attention as he went about his business. He would linger a little longer, putting away his pocket watch to take the time to look, to smell. His roughened fingers were softened by the faintest touch of a silky petal. Would Anna's skin feel as soft? Perhaps this was where she got her tenderness from, from handling so many flowers…He found himself comparing, assessing the merits and beauty of each new kind he came across in turn. Anna seemed to love every variety equally. As he regarded a forget-me-not, its pretty blue hue nearly comparable to the colour of her irises, his mind had seemingly been made up.

This was something he could offer her. Only a small token, and it came nowhere near to adequately conveying all that had started so suddenly in his heart, all that he had to hold quiet and restrained whenever he so much as looked at her. It crushed his soul to know that it was almost a certainty that he would never be able to give her more, all the happiness that she should so richly inherit. But this would hold a little of it, in a gesture that could not possibly be deemed improper. He knew that flowers made her happy, and he became giddy even contemplating the spark that would ignite in her eyes when he presented them to her. The shy smile that would blossom towards him, just for him; his own token that he would hold preciously forever.

The moments came and went, and John cursed himself repeatedly for his faded courage that became less and less each time that he ventured. It was not how he had expected to carry out the gesture, but looking back on it fondly as he so often did he realised that it was utterly perfect. His breath had nearly been taken clean away when she carefully opened the door to appear, wrapped in a shawl, the faintest redness in her cheeks. Her eyes, even though affected by a slight heaviness, still possessed their captivation, and for a moment he completely forgot about the weight of the tray in his hands. She smiled gracious and surprised to see all that he had prepared for her, and then an almost inaudible gasp escaped from her throat when her gaze fell upon the little vase standing proudly. John had to bite back the affectionate grin from flooding his features.

There had been no question; he would give her lilacs. There was something about their delicacy that spoke volumes; unassuming beauty was what they carried, and who else had such the same kind? At that point, he had not perused the book tucked away in Lord Grantham's library: Dictionnaire du language des fleurs. But later he would smile, thinking that the choice was always written to be so. Her rosy blush had been enough for then, and it was then that his head had finally been able to catch up with his impatient heart. There was no question about that either. As she turned towards the door, leaving him with a bashful look over her shoulder, his whole body sang with it. He loved Anna May Smith.

His bravery to confess the fact took some time to match hers, but he did his utmost to ensure that she was aware. Well-timed looks, smiles that he couldn't help from smiling. Later on there were those things he had longed for, unbelievably coming to be; his palms pressed against her small frame, holding her close from a world that was so kind and so swiftly, unreasonably cruel. Their fingers brushing and then lacing tightly together. Their lips meeting with a sweetness that the harmony of heaven could never match, and at moments with a desire that threatened to overwhelm. When he cupped her warm and flushed cheek in his hand, his heart almost stopped at how her skin was softer than he had ever dared imagined. Certainly softer than a petal of any flower. For too long he had to know it by memory alone.

In the times between such joy and sorrow, he offered up more of his heart and gave her more flowers. They made up fractionally for all of the unimaginable pain he had caused her and became a celebration when they were united once more. Not long ago, when they had been tidying the cottage together on a free afternoon, he had seen the little book resting on the small bedroom dresser. Her face had turned pink when she hurried back into the room, finding his curious gaze settled upon it. With nimble fingers she picked it up, at first pressing the cover close to her chest, and then letting the pages float open. He smiled when he saw what was inside; each page containing a pressing.

"I kept at least one of each you gave me, along with all of your letters," Anna smiled shyly, her finger stroking against one small flower fixed to a page. "I know it's incredibly silly and sentimental of me," she gave a light laugh that made his heart jump in delight, her eyes meeting his in a moment that made time stand still. "But, there were times when I thought they would be all I had of you."

She had found yet another weakness, another way to completely enamour him. As he swept her into his arms, covering her face with sweet little kisses and leaving the task at hand swiftly forgotten, he offered silent praise that he could be with her now, his remarkable and wonderful wife, who had never faltered in her devotion. He was beyond thankful that now he could show his love for her in ways that many times he thought not possible in this lifetime, but he resolved to still pay attention to the little details, to remind himself daily of the simple kind of happiness he could give her, which so often proved to be the sweetest. Their sitting room table was hardly ever free from a modest display, and Anna could often be found fussing over it each morning, cradling fallen petals in her palm and risking staying too long when the time came to depart for another day of work.

The last flowers had been wilting, with neither of them being able to get to the village just recently. But today was Anna's birthday, and thankfully he had been granted leave a little earlier. He walked as fast as he was able towards the bus stop that would take him into the village, the afternoon sun high in the sky and grazing the back of his neck with heat. One of the last days of summer. John had to smile, thinking how fitting it was: that the valuable rays of honeyed sunshine, grasped onto to last throughout the many dull and wintry days that would make up the remainder of the year, accompanied Anna's entrance into the world.

Everything was in full bloom, on the trees and bushes that lined the village lanes. Certainly, there was not a drought of selection to choose from. Whatever he chose, he knew that it had to be special. Anna was the most precious thing to him on any day of the year, and so she deserved to be treated like a queen, even though she was never one for fuss or grandeur. She said often enough that she would be perfectly content to receive a kiss and cuddle as her present, and John argued that he could manage a lot better than just one of each.

Last year was quite the extravagance. He conceded now that perhaps he had gone a little to extremes, but it had been the first of her birthdays that they had spent as wedded husband and wife. The first that they had been able to spend together, free from the dark shadows of his past hanging over them and the constraints of a cold, soulless cell. It was a gift that neither could deny the preciousness of, to be able to hold and kiss one another for the rest of their lives, but he felt that it was only right that he did something extra special for the occasion, to show her how truly thankful he was that someone as special as her had stayed so strong, proving both of their love in her determination to clear his name. On Lord Grantham's recommendation, he had taken her to a travelling theatre show and then to the Grantham Arms for a grand meal. They had even stayed the night, and Anna had told him off for going to so much trouble, but her words proved to fail her. As she fell into his embrace, her sparkling eyes said everything about how thrilled she was, her sentiments swiftly expressed with much greater feeling by the eager press of her mouth to his.

It was not just the matter of money that meant the celebrations had to be scaled back this year, but also the fact that it was quite impractical for Anna to get around anywhere. John smiled disbelievingly as he considered how quickly the time had passed. She was nearing her eighth month of pregnancy and was spending less time at the Abbey, partly down to his and everyone else's insistence. As stubborn as ever, she had been adamant that she was perfectly capable of carrying out the duties that she was able to, but in the past few weeks she moved slower, found tasks harder to complete and conceded that she needed to take things at an easier pace. They hadn't discussed the matter of her leaving service all that much, reasoning that when the time came Anna would know better than anyone.

While she bubbled with excitement, preparing everything for the arrival of the baby, John sensed her certain sadness underneath it all. It was only natural, that she should feel apprehensive and even a little lost at the thought of leaving all she knew for the best part of her life behind. As much as he kissed her fears away, holding his hand to cradle where their baby lay and seeing her smile brightly at him in response, he knew that she ached just a bit, and so he did too. Things were changing, for the both of them, and it was fine to be afraid. As long as they had each other, they could deal with any uncertainty that was put in their path. He had already laid down his life to her long before she had announced that she was carrying his child but now it was even more important that he was the best man that he could be, for Anna and the baby. Every day he lived now, every deed that he did, it was entirely for them.

He rested his cane by the door of the cottage as he closed it behind him, finding that he didn't really need to use it all that much in their own home. Anna joked that once the baby arrived it would likely be a different matter, as it would run rings around the pair of them. His steps were silent as he walked down the hallway, the basket held tight in his hands. Before he saw her he heard her, humming a soft tune to herself, singing the occasional note aloud here and there. The song was one he recognised from some years ago, the amateur concert he had thought was the summit of all joy. How foolish he had been. He couldn't take the smile from his face on hearing her start to sing more confidently.

"A garden of Eden just made for two, with nothing to mar our joy; I would say such wonderful things to you, there would be such wonderful things to do…"

She was in her own little world, sitting in the chair by the fireplace, clothed in a loose green cotton dress, her hair swept back. Her concentration was focused on the sewing she had brought home with her after spending just an hour up at the house this morning, both of her hands working away deftly with the needle and thread. Every now and then for a second or two, one would still and drop to her stomach, rubbing carefully over the swell and then resting beneath before she proceeded once more. John admired her, wearing a daft grin as he regarded the two most important people on this earth to him.

Anna's hand stayed against her belly for a few seconds longer than usual, and her shoulders jumped up a little. A dark shade passed across John's face, the soles of his shoes stamping upon the floor, alerting her to his presence. She looked down, a radiant smile spreading over her lips as she patted her palm upon her stomach. In the next moment, her eyes were upon him, calming as the gentle waves on a peaceful blue sea.

"Nothing to fret about," she assured in her Yorkshire lilt, "I think this one just wanted to say hello."

John smiled, his sudden anxiety quelled and replaced with great excitement. "And I want to say hello too."

"Well, you're going to have to help me up first," Anna braced her hands against the arms of the chair, heaving herself forward. "I'm so huge now I can't even get onto my feet without it taking forever and a day." She frowned a little as he came closer, both hands now splayed against her belly. "I must look such a funny, frightful sight."

"Don't be ridiculous," John uttered, brushing his lips over her cheek as he got her to her feet. "You look absolutely beautiful. You grow more gorgeous every single day."

She tutted as he traced his mouth across her hand, letting out a soft whimper when it reached the inside of her wrist. John beamed at her; she really did look exceptionally stunning today. With one hand fitted against her hip, his other rested over her stomach, a couple of his fingertips fluttering light as a feather as he made his greeting to their unborn child.

"Hello, little one. And have you enjoyed yourself today?"

"They have, indeed," Anna replied, attempting to sound stern but with the smile creeping into her tone as her fingers shifted to rest over his hand. "A little too much, I should say. Hasn't stopped kicking and wriggling around. I feel like my tummy is a toy to this one today."

John let out a hearty chuckle, rubbing his hand across, eliciting another firm kick from the baby. He was still utterly amazed to feel the movement, as much as the first time Anna had beckoned him to come quickly and lay his palm against where their baby was jumping about within her. Anna glanced up in apparent displeasure, before she beamed a wide grin at the sensation; the proof of their love alive and making itself very known.

"You can't blame her. She's just excited that it's her mummy's birthday."

"John, you have to stop saying 'her'," she admonished him gently. "I think you're going to be disappointed when 'she' turns out to be a boy."

"I could never be disappointed with this little one."

Anna's face shadowed when she realised what she had said. John shook his head, his hand against her cheek as he bent down to kiss her soundly. Their lips lingered against each other for a few blissful moments.

"I just have a feeling," he remarked, his brows lifting as though he was privy to the secret. "My mother was very good at predicting what a baby would be. I always thought it was pot luck, but now I think I may have picked up the talent."

Anna tutted again, the love for her husband burning in her eyes. She shuffled across the floor, catching his wrist as he made to turn away, her glint now reflected in his gaze.

"I was very happy with my present," she purred with a seductiveness that made him shiver. "You finally gave me just what I said I wanted after all these years."

He smiled, taking her by the waist and pulling her close for another kiss, deeper than the last. Hearing her sigh into it was heaven, and her little huff of discontentment when he broke it earlier than she had expected was a wrench. He ducked to pick up the basket from where it lay on the floor, and was met with a partly disapproving gaze when he turned to present it to her.

"John,' she said his name in an exasperated breath, "I thought I told you not to bother! Not when we need to be thinking about the baby."

He dismissed her exclamations with a soft smile. "The baby has plenty of things already. It's the luckiest little one on this earth, and it's not even here yet."

Anna crumpled her lips in reply. The baby did have an awful lot. For months she had been buying things when she had accompanied Lady Mary into Ripon and York, and had made enough hats and booties to last two years. Lady Mary herself had been very generous, offering some of Master George's old playsuits and a beautiful woollen shawl, edged with lace. She shifted her hands on her hips, slowly coming around.

"Besides, I think it will make baby happier than anything to know her mummy's being taken care of."

"John," it came out softer this time as she laid her hand upon his arm, "you know I am. Very well taken care of."

She craned up to leave a light kiss on his cheek and he went warm at the feel of her lips upon him. He began to take out the contents and put them on the table; the jam and cream sponge cake that Mrs Patmore and Daisy had baked that afternoon, the special blend of sweet tea that he found at the tea shop. Smiling at what was still left covered, he kissed her mouth once more, his palm pressed lightly to the swell of her stomach.

"It's just a little something, but I hope you'll like it."

"It doesn't look like a little something," she trilled in a beseeching tone.

He held the basket out of her reach as she tried to peek at what lay underneath the covering. Without removing it he unveiled a little bouquet of peach dahlias and white camellias, tied together with orange and white ribbon. His own expression was a picture as hers lit up, her hands resting over where her heart was beating faster now.

"Your birthday flowers," he smiled a little bashfully, feeling such great delight at the surprised smile that had washed over her face, her eyes examining the blooms with wonder. "I chose them because they're bright and elegant and beautiful. Just like you."

"You're such a sweet talker, John Bates," she smirked, her fingertips drifting over the stems as she cooed over the flowers. "I love them. Of course I do."

She entwined her hand with his, giving his fingers a squeeze before she made to replace the rather sad looking flowers left in the vase with the new, vibrant ones. The playful note of John's voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Don't you want to see what else is here?"

"Oh," the light came to life in her eyes again, having momentarily forgotten. "Yes. My mind is all over the place at the moment. I'm sorry I'm so muddled."

He gave her hand a soft kiss, guiding her closer to him. "You never need to apologise."

Anna smiled up at him, a smile that was sweet and utterly captivating. For a few moments he was the one to forget, getting lost on the road of her; the depths of her eyes, the curve of her sensual lips. He couldn't resist the urge, kissing each one in turn, marvelling at how well they melded with his own. The colour rose on her cheeks and he committed the shade to his mind as his arm circled around her waist. Her hands were anxious, one creeping up his back and the other hovering in the air towards the sheet that hid the remainder of the bounty. With a twinkle in his eye, John nodded and with a surprising amount of self-control, Anna lifted it back carefully. Her eyes danced as she uncovered the cuttings one by one, the petals of many colours and shapes unfurling before her gaze.

"I suppose it's a present for both of us, really," John smiled, carefully watching the shades of emotion move across Anna's face. "I know it's taken far too long for me to do anything about the garden…"

"Oh John, no, it doesn't matter," she was shaking her head softly, her eyes flitting between his loving gaze and her present. "You work so hard, I don't expect…"

She vowed so honestly that it made his heart quiver. He knew that any time he did have free was spent worshipping his wife, in her body and her beautiful soul, and that Anna hadn't complained about it; not in the least when so often she was the one luring him like a siren from the moment he walked through the door. Still he felt guilty, as a flowering garden was something that Anna dearly wanted, musing many evenings how pretty and peaceful it would be for them to both sit out there on summer nights – much like the one that was ahead of them.

"There's still a little time before the weather changes to make a start. I have a couple of afternoons off; I can prune and begin to plant, and then, in time," he kissed the palm of his hand before laying it back against her stomach, "we can tend to it together."

Anna's eyes were glossy with joyful tears, and they seemed even bigger in that moment. A hand trembled against her chest as she fiddled with the neckline of her light dress, her other having slipped naturally into the protective grasp of his.

"Well," she stated shakily, "this will be quite the start." Her breath hitched as her gaze travelled across each cutting, her fingers coming out to reach the rose that was particularly striking. "They're all so beautiful, John, I can't…"

He smiled wide; he couldn't have asked for a more heartfelt reaction. Linking his fingers more tightly with hers, stroking against the skin of her knuckles, he pressed a light kiss against her temple.

"We're lucky that you were born at such a fruitful time of year." He noticed that she recognised some of the blooms, and gave a little laugh. "Yes, those are from the gardens up at the house. I asked Mr Bassett if it would be okay to have a few cuttings, and thankfully he obliged. And the others…" he grinned as she took her time lingering over the flowers that were unfamiliar to her eyes. "The other week I happened upon the older Mr Molesley in the village. You know how his garden is the most admired in all of Downton; well, maybe we can garner a bit of his fame, with his permission of course."

Anna laughed in a tuneful tone, guiding her fingertips over the delicate honeysuckle flower.

"He does grow some beautiful flowers," John stated, a blush appearing at the hollow of his throat. "It was hard to decide from so many. But I believe I chose the most beautiful from the bunch. Or more accurately, they chose me. As has been the way before."

She fixed him with a look that told him without the words how much of a silly beggar he was, and both smiled sentimentally, eyes keen upon each other and then the flowers that lay on the table. Clearing his throat and handling one of the petals with much delicacy, John spoke again.

"Actually, I did have reasons for choosing each one."

He attempted to conceal his growing smile, part of him not getting over how curious it was, or at least should have been. In quiet moments in the house, he had made his way back to the library, locating the book skilfully. Over the past weeks he had studied the pages long enough to commit the meanings to memory and to consider without question which ones would be ideal.

Her curiosity was piqued, those sapphire blue eyes sparkling anew.

"You mustn't keep me in suspense, Mr Bates. Tell me the reasons." The playful note of her sweet voice bounced from the walls, and echoed in his heart. "Or is that a surprise too far?"

"Not at all. I believe you should know what is growing in our garden." He needed her to know.

He matched her bright smile, eyes drifting to the far end of the collection, followed by hers. The pear and plum blossom nestled close together, tangling round one another in much the same way as John and Anna had.

"These stand for beauty," he began, a smile curling his lips as hers parted temptingly. He gathered himself while confronted with her enchantress. "Longevity." His face was softer now as he considered the strongest foundation of their union. "Lasting friendship."

Anna sighed happily as she curled in closer to him, and as he felt the swell press a little more to his side, John felt overwhelmed and wonderfully blessed.

"The honeysuckle means devoted affection, bonds of love," he continued, smiling in turn at the flowers waiting to bloom and then at the glinting band upon her finger that still fit comfortably even if her dainty digits had swollen a little. He paused to trace the colours of her irises, which he sworn had transformed from mere seconds ago. "The bluebell is humility, constancy," He beamed towards her, his Anna, his own bluebell with so much of those qualities within her. How he would love her forever, and how it would show. "Everlasting love."

Taking her hand with increased tenderness, he chortled against her silky hair.

"These ones are for me really, but I reasoned I could have at least a little space."

She shifted her head against him, smiling against his chest as he let out a sigh, considering the pale pink rose and vibrant primrose next to it.

"That rose stands for thankfulness, gratitude," As he looked at her, his heart filled and flowed with both sentiments. To his dying day, he would thank her for coming into his life and giving it a meaning he hadn't even known he was searching for until he had laid eyes upon her. "It also means perfect happiness, and there is none so perfect than that which you have given to me."

"John…"

His throat constricted hearing her tearful issuing of his name, and he resolved to stay strong.

"And the primrose; well, it's quite simple." It was a fact that he had known, long before those darkest days and nights had encroached upon them both, and that would always remain the truest that there could be. His lips brushed against the lobe of her ear as he made to whisper it. "'I cannot live without you'."

Anna turned her head, her lashes glistening, her smile pulling him in. She stretched her neck to reach and John guided her, overtaken by the rush; the softness first of the stroke of her cheek against his and then of her lips. She tasted of honey and of tea; she tasted sweeter every single time.

The little yellow flower with heart-shaped leaves crowning it called for approval, and they both smiled, John shifting round behind her so he could place both of his hands on Anna's stomach.

"The celandine," he said, with a matter-of-fact tone that made Anna giggle, "stands for 'joys to come'."

He followed her gaze down, as her hand came to stroke just above where his lay. God knows they both richly deserved all of the joy that was ahead of them, and John could only feel confident that this little one, much awaited by both, was only the first of many great joys to grace their life together. Still, it couldn't hurt to try and consolidate the hope.

After he had nuzzled her neck, Anna leant forward to pick up the red and white rose that already seemed to be her favourite. Her breath fluttered warm against him as she turned, her other hand held over where he was still cradling her.

"And this," she asked, her pouted lips reflecting the rosy hue, "what does this mean?"

His dark eyes misted as they stayed upon her, the backs of his fingers caressing the petals and then the curve of her cheek.

"'We are united.'"

"Always," Anna followed without missing a beat, her hand reaching to cup his face, her eyes full of love.

John smiled down at her, his own countenance an open book, confessing years of his love for her. They would be, always; nothing could dare even try to sever the ties that were unbreakable, the hearts that only beat for each other.

A thump resounded against both of their palms while they were lost in each other's gaze, and they laughed heartily. John patted his hand upon Anna's tummy, causing a flurry of movement to continue there.

"You're just doing it on purpose now, provoking her."

His face burst into joy hearing Anna call their baby a 'her'. The best part was that she hadn't even seemed to realise it, just smiling serenely at him.

"She doesn't want to be ignored," he chortled, reaching into the bottom of the basket to take out a final, hidden flower, its sunshine yellow petals catching the light that was coming streaming through the window. His fingers met hers softly, entwining as he brought the chrysanthemum to compliment the rose that was still in her hand. "'Precious one'," he said, being careful not to knock away any of the buds, admiring how the two flowers looked together. "She'll have her own flower, pride of place."

The baby kicked excitedly, and Anna smiled, brushing the flowers by her nose before laying them back down on the table. John watched her all the while, sighing in contentment when she curled her fingers at the nape of his neck. He stooped to kiss her once more deeply, his hands stroking down her sides. As her mouth moved against his, he was left in wonder of all that she was; of all that she was going to be in all the years to come. His beautiful Anna, blossoming before his very eyes.

Her warm breath tickled against his lips as hers curved upwards.

"Well, Mr Bates, there are a few months until your birthday." Her hands were playing a perfect harmony against his skin, and he felt himself slipping. "However will I match all of this?"

He smiled, covering her hand with a kiss.

"You already have."

It was true. He had no need, wish or desire for anything else, not when he had everything he ever wanted in this very room with him.

Side notes: Dahlias are the birth month flower for August, and they mean 'elegance, dignity'. White camellias mean 'perfected loveliness'.

'Dictionnaire du language des fleurs' is by Joseph Hammer-Pugstall and was published in 1809.

I just about melted when I read that lilacs mean 'first emotions of love' *sigh* - I'm not exactly sure that they were the flowers in 1.4, but they're lilac (!) so yes, that is my headcanon.