Title: Comfortable
Pairing: Anna/Bates
Rating: Teen
A/N: This fandom could use some fluff right now. Voila, fluff. And no smut.
This chair was uncomfortable. In any other circumstances, it would be extremely comfortable, especially since she rarely sat in chairs so well-stuffed, but right now it wasn't. She was waiting in a candlelit guest bedroom, which was the first thing that made it uncomfortable, since this was certainly not where a maid found herself unless she was helping prepare it for someone else. She was also waiting for Mr. Bates to arrive for their first night together, and that was the second thing that made it uncomfortable.
She'd thought about wearing something nice - Lady Mary had even offered her one of her own fine nightdresses - but she'd been so worried she'd damage it and not be able to fix it that she just couldn't. She wouldn't have felt easy in it, and she already felt uneasy enough about this whole thing. So she wore just her usual cotton nightdress and her wrap, and she hoped that would be enough for him.
Mr. Bates - no, John, she could truly think of him as John now - slipped through the door in his suit, then smiled at her and the beautifully decorated room around her.
"I'm sorry I'm late. His Lordship wanted to discuss a few things," he apologized, closing the door behind himself and locking it. The sound was very final, and she felt her nerves begin dancing a foxtrot - in double time.
"O-oh, that's alright," she stuttered. "I think Lady Mary would have kept me longer tonight if she hadn't been so tired herself. And then you'dve been here before me."
"Then I'm the lucky one," he replied, putting his cane down next to a chair and smiling at her in a way that was loving and calming and exciting all at the same time. "I might have been worried you'd changed your mind if you hadn't been here."
He was deliberately setting her at ease, and she appreciated very much that he was. But of course he knew, or at least suspected, that she was nervous and unsure about it all. Not that she wasn't quite interested in this in theory, but in practice she'd heard all manner of stories, both good and bad, and she didn't know what to believe. She stood up from the chair and carefully folded her shawl onto its arm, which was a stalling tactic and she knew it. She made herself stop smoothing the shawl and approached him in just her simple nightdress, though she wasn't sure what to do next.
"I won't change my mind," she promised him. "I made a vow today, and I'll keep it, Mr. Bates."
"If that's a threat, I quite like the sound of it," he replied, drawing her close and just holding her. She thought she heard him sigh, and she looked up at him curiously. He had his eyes closed, and he seemed more at peace than he had been recently. It made him look younger, and she promised herself to ensure that he looked like that as often as possible, no matter what happened in the next few days or weeks or months.
He seemed to sense that she was looking at him, and he bent down to kiss her, gently at first, but with increasing fervency. They'd never done much beyond kissing, but she certainly had wanted to, and knew he felt the same. He was honorable, though, and refused to compromise her in any way.
The kisses continued, and hands began to roam, and clothing began to seem a little unnecessary, and then she had a problem and stopped, blushing red and looking down at her bare toes below the hem of her nightdress.
"What's the matter?" John asked gently, tilting her chin up so she was looking at him again. "What is it, Anna?"
"I don't really know how to undress a man," she admitted with an embarrassed chuckle. "I mean, I know how it all goes together, but I've never done it. If you were a lady, I'd know exactly what to do."
He chuckled as well and stepped back, then removed his jacket and dropped it on the same chair as his cane. It was going to get wrinkled and rumpled, hanging like that, and then he'd have to spend extra time making it meet Mr. Carson's exacting standards, but she resisted the impulse to go hang it properly. It was just her mind's way of avoiding the situation again and she knew it.
"Does that help?" he asked, teasing her, and she rolled her eyes in fond exasperation.
"That leaves you with three more layers to go, not counting your braces," she replied. "And I've only got the one. I don't call that fair."
He looked at her in a way that made her quite aware of her single layer, and quite aware of his appreciation of what was under that single layer. She almost wanted to shiver, though the look was heated.
"Oh, I'd say it's quite fair," he argued gently, unbuttoning his waistcoat as he did. "There's not much anyone'd want to see under my layers, so it's best that they stay on as long as possible."
His mild self-deprecation was characteristic, but she still didn't like it. His determination that she not see him as he was until she absolutely had to made her stubbornly determined to hasten the process. To that end, she began unbuttoning her placket.
"Fight fire with fire, John," she informed him more confidently than she felt, and his eyes widened in appreciation before he pulled her to him. After that, there weren't any words needed, nor could she have found them if they were.
Later, lying in his arms, sleepy and content, she heard him say, drowsily, "Comfortable?" and she realized she was. She was the most comfortable she'd ever been in her life.