I should be working on If Things Were Different, but I couldn't go on without getting this out of my head, so here's my contribution to the First Date Challenge for May Rock the AU! Also, someone else's bed is involved ;) Enjoy!

Mary almost laughed when she saw the picture of her sister flash up on her phone.

"It's not even 8 o'clock, Sybil. This has to be a personal best."

Sybil sighed on the other end. "I know. I know. I am absolute rubbish on first dates. It's these ridiculous wankers you and Edith insist on setting me up with."

"So what happened?"

"We met at 6:30 for a drink, then we walked over to that gallery you mentioned, and the show was called 'Nudes in the Public Sphere.' We ended up getting into an argument about the male gaze and misogyny in contemporary art, and that led to an argument about misogyny in general and let's just say we agreed to disagree and then he went home."

"Sybil you need to stop—"

"Stop what?! Being a feminist?"

Mary rolled her eyes. "No! You need to stop trying to have 10th date conversations on first dates."

"Mary, I work at a clinic that serves sex workers. It's hard to avoid the topic when 'What do you do?' is like the third question they ask."

"Well, I'm sorry it went south, but I have to go. Matthew's gone to get drinks, and he'll be back any minute and the performance will start soon."

"I know I've interrupted your anniversary date, and I wouldn't have just to tell you my date was awful. I actually need a favor."

"Now?"

"I've locked myself out of my flat."

"Oh, Sybil."

"Can I stay at yours tonight?"

"I'm sorry, darling. Normally I would say yes, but it's our anniversary night."

"You can't go to his place?"

"I have everything arranged for when we get back. Besides, you know well he has a flatmate."

"Ugh. You're right. I'm sorry."

"Why don't you just call a locksmith or Gwen?"

"Gwen is at a conference, and I tried the building superintendent, but he's not answering. He asks that we call him first for repairs, but then he disappears on weekends."

Mary thought for a moment. "Well, mum and dad's is being remodeled so that's out." She paused, not sure how Sybil would take her next suggestion. "You could stay at Matthew's."

"Didn't you just say 'you know who' is going to be there?"

"Sybil, he's not Voldemort."

"Yes, but you know how I feel about him."

"I do, and frankly, I think that's the reason you can't get past a first date with anyone."

"How do I know he'll even be there to let me in?"

"Just call him. You have his number."

Sybil bit her lip. "Would you call him?"

"Sybil, you're twenty-four years old, are you still so scared of talking to boys you like? Matthew's here now, I have to go."

"You're right. I'll call. Have a wonderful evening and happy anniversary!"

"Thank you. We'll talk in the morning, darling."

"Right. Cheers."

Sybil ended the call and stared at her phone for a good long minute. Finally, she summoned as much courage as she could and went into her contacts. She scrolled through until she found the entry "Mr. Right."

Sybil laughed at herself, remembering the night she'd saved Tom Branson's number like it was yesterday, even though it was actually almost two years ago.

Mary and Matthew had just started going out. Matthew and Tom were having a party at their flat, and Sybil, in her last year of uni, arrived early with Mary, whom she was visiting for the weekend. Matthew and Mary were still in the honeymoon phase, so they disappeared to Matthew's room, and for the next hour before any other guests arrived, Tom and Sybil chatted about life in London, what it would be like for her after graduation, their favorite books, the various places in the world they wanted to travel and their mutual closet addiction to EastEnders. Emboldened by how well they were getting on, Sybil ventured to ask if he wanted to hang out sometime when she was done with school in a few months and living in London full-time. She could have sworn she saw the "yes" in his eyes, but before anything came out of his mouth, the bell rang.

It was his girlfriend.

Gutted by that awkward introduction ("Edna, this is Mary's little sister.") and a bit overwhelmed by all the people so much older and more sophisticated than she was feeling at that moment, Sybil ended up sneaking out of the party early without telling Mary, knowing her sister would try to talk her out of it. Shortly after she'd arrived back at Mary's, Sybil's phone rang. She didn't recognize the number, but answered anyway. It was Mary calling—on Tom's phone because hers had died—to make sure she was OK.

So she saved the number and labeled it "Mr. Right," not caring about the silliness of it. In the intervening years, she and Tom had seen one another plenty of times, given Matthew and Mary's ongoing relationship. He was sweet and funny to her, but she was always nervous and shy around him—no matter how much more confident and self-assured she'd grown to be in just about every other aspect of her life. Only Mary knew of the long-standing crush Sybil harbored.

Sybil seriously considered just staying on the stoop on the outside of her building all night, but the clouds that had been hovering over London all day decided at that moment to turn into rain. Sybil ran under the awning and, feeling cornered by mother nature, she finally tapped her phone to call him.

After several rings, he answered. "Hello?"

"Um, hi, Tom. It's Sybil . . . Sybil Crawley. I'm Mary's—"

"Sybil, I know who you are," he said with an easy laugh.

"Um, OK."

"Were you looking for Mary? Because she and Matthew are at the opera, I think."

"I know. I just spoke with her. I was calling you because I was wondering . . . would it be OK if I popped by? I've locked myself out of my flat, and don't really have anywhere else to go."

"Of course. Do you need a ride? I'm out at the moment so I could come get you."

"Oh, I'm sorry! It's Saturday night. I shouldn't have assumed you'd be in. I—"

"Don't worry, you haven't interrupted me doing anything interesting. I'm just at the grocery. Text me where you are and I'll be by soon, OK?"

Sybil felt her face starting to flush at his concern. "OK."

Sybil hung up the phone, texted him the address and then took a deep breath.

No backing out now.

About twenty minutes later, the rain was still pouring, so Sybil didn't notice his car pull up, or him getting out and running up to where she was sitting against the door under the awning until he was practically standing over her.

"Branson White Knight Taxi Service here to pick up one Sybil Crawley?"

Sybil looked up. He was holding an umbrella and wearing his usual disarming smile.

Stop being perfect!

"Hi," she said, slipping her hand into his, which he'd held out to help her up. "I'm so sorry about this. Apparently, my list of friends to contact in case of an emergency is rather short. I hate to bother you."

"No worries, but I will say I'm a bit insulted to hear I'm not the first person you called."

Sybil could not help but look at him skeptically, and his smile widened.

"Why do you like to tease me?" She asked.

"Because it's fun," he said with a laugh. "Come on, before we catch pneumonia."

XXX

"Here."

Sybil turned to Tom, who was coming back out of his room and holding out a T-shirt and sweats for her to change into.

"Thanks," she said quietly.

She went into Matthew's room to change. When she came back out into the living room again, Tom, in the kitchen putting away his groceries, asked. "What were you all dressed up for?"

"A date."

Tom's brow furrowed, and he looked over to the clock on the wall. "It's 8:30. I take it he wasn't Mr. Right?"

Sybil bit her lip. "No."

"Want to talk about it?"

Sybil came into the kitchen and sat down at the breakfast table. "Not really. It was just a first date, so my heart's not breaking or anything. I just wish I didn't always find a way to mess things up."

"What makes you think it was your fault?"

Sybil shrugged. "I've been on a lot of first dates, a statement that rather explains itself."

Tom smiled. "Maybe you need someone to give you notes."

"What do you mean?"

"I'll go on a date with you, and then offer a critique."

Sybil's heart started to beat faster, and she brought her hand to her face to try to hide the blush she could feel coming on. "Um, you and I going on a date?"

"Sure. We could do it right now, in fact."

Sybil looked down to see what she was wearing, black sweats and a faded Darth Vader T-shirt. "Are you mad?"

Tom laughed. He walked over to the pantry, took out a bottle of red wine, grabbed two wine glasses from the cupboard and brought them over to the table. Sybil watched him as he opened the bottle and poured each of them a glass. He sat down in front of her and pushed a glass in her direction.

"So, here we are," he said, trying to keep a straight face, but mostly failing. "Tom and Sybil's first date."

"You are mad," she said taking a sip of her wine, but unable to repress her smile.

"First note: It's not a good idea to insult the man you're with right off the bat."

Sybil laughed and took another sip of wine. "OK. Are we pretending we don't know each other?"

"That's up to you."

"Well, I would rather skip having to 'introduce' myself if you don't mind. I'm a bit too tired to be extra charming."

"Good. I prefer you ornery anyway," he said.

Sybil picked up the wine cork and threw it at him.

"That's what I'm talking about," he said with a wink. "But let's get back on track here. This is the real you and the real me going on a first date."

Sybil took another sip, needing the liquid courage. "All right, then."

"So, where did this bloke take you on the date you were out on earlier?"

"Am I allowed to give notes too? Because discussing romantic history is really kind of a no-no on a first date isn't it?"

Tom laughed. "I suppose you're right. I'm a bit rusty at this myself."

"When was the last time you went out on a date?"

"Doesn't that question violate the no discussing romantic history rule?"

"Fair enough. So what do you want to talk about?"

Tom looked at her for a long time in a way that made her blush slightly.

"What?" she asked quietly.

"Do you remember the night we first met?"

"Ye-es," she replied, drawing out the word a bit nervously.

"You asked me out that night," he said a small smile on his lips.

Sybil looked down, unable to meet his eyes, and tucked her hair behind her ear. "As I recall," she said, "you had a girlfriend at the time."

"Yeah. She and I ended things a few months after that. When you moved here, I sort of thought you would ask again."

Sybil took a long sip of her wine to give herself time to think about how she could answer. This was the last thing she had ever expected to talk with him about.

"I guess I lost my nerve," she said finally. "I was a bit braver when I was a student than I am now."

Tom narrowed his eyes at her. "I doubt that."

"Maybe I'll feel different when we finish this wine," Sybil said, trying to muster her courage so she could flirt back. He is flirting, right?

"Well, then let's drink!" He said enthusiastically.

Sybil laughed. Yes, he is.

Tom lifted up his glass toward her.

"What are we toasting to?" She asked.

"Your terrible date this evening."

"Why that?" She asked a bit miffed.

"If he hadn't been rubbish, you wouldn't be here right now, and I would be sitting on the couch alone wondering what I am going to do when Matthew moves out."

"What do you mean when Matthew moves out?"

"Bollocks," Tom said to himself, putting his glass down.

"What!? Do you know something I don't? Tell me!"

Tom sighed. "Let's just say the next time Mary calls you she's going to have big news."

"AAAAAAAAHHHHH!" Sibyl screamed. "Mary's getting engaged?"

Tom laughed. "Unless he chickens out."

"To Larry Grey and to Mary and Matthew," she said lifting her glass.

Tom picked his back up and clinked hers. "And to us."

Sybil smiled and drank.

The news of her sister's impending engagement effectively calmed Sybil's nerves, and she and Tom continued to chat about anything and everything until they finished the bottle of wine. After they finished a second, they both realized neither one had eaten a proper dinner. Tom volunteered to go to the chip shop around the corner for takeaway. While he was gone Sybil, enjoying her buzz, walked around the apartment and looked at the pictures Tom and Matthew had up around their living room. There were some of the two of them from university, including one from their graduation. There were a number with Mary. There were even a couple that included Sybil herself. It made her feel good. Like he and Matthew really saw her as a friend, and not just Mary's little sister who happened to be around a lot.

When Tom returned, they sat down on the floor of the living room and continued talking as they ate. Had Sibyl not stopped thinking about it as a first date, she would've realized that it was the best one she had ever been on.

XXX

"Hmmm, that was delicious," Sybil said after taking her last bite. "I can't remember the last time I ate fish and chips."

"I can only imagine that you didn't have them often growing up. I remember the first time Mary was over, and I suggested ordering some. She looked at me like I had two heads."

Sybil laughed. "I have to say fried is not my mother's favorite fish presentation."

Tom smirked. "I would ask why except you just used the word 'presentation' when talking about food."

"It was certainly not an easygoing household as far as the dinner table was concerned."

"You are the daughter of an earl."

"The funny thing is," she said, "the earl loves fried food. Once in New York, my grandmother took us to a soul food restaurant, and my father had fried chicken and macaroni and cheese for the first time. I swear he was a kid at Disneyland."

"I can't say I was brought up eating particularly posh food," Tom said. "But mam was a great cook."

He looked over at Sybil after a quiet moment and raised his eyebrows. "Are you in the mood for dessert?"

"What kind of desert?" She asked seeming a bit skeptical.

"Wait right here," he said, then stood and headed to the kitchen. After a few minutes and after hearing the blender, Sybil watched him come back and sit down again with a tall glass of what looked like a chocolate milkshake and two spoons.

"Unfortunately," he said, "there was only enough left for one so we'll have to share."

"What is it?" she asked.

"Just taste it," he said.

Sybil took one of the spoons and slipped it into her mouth. "Oh, my god! That's heaven!"

Tom smiled, taking the other spoon.

"What's in it?"

"Chocolate ice cream, Baileys and vanilla-infused vodka."

Sybil took another spoonful and let out a sound that could only be described as orgasmic—which made him blush a little.

"You like it, then?" Tom asked.

"Like it? I think it's the key to eternal happiness."

Tom laughed.

"It figures it would be you who would find it for me," she said.

"It does?"

Sybil looked up at him realizing what she had just said and shrugged her shoulders with a small smile. He smiled back, but didn't say anything else. They continued eating until they'd finished the milkshake. He stood, taking the now empty glass and headed back to the kitchen. She stood to follow him, unsure of how exactly the mood had changed between them.

"How did it get to be so close to midnight?" She asked as he stood over the sink rinsing the glass.

"Time flies when you're having fun." He turned off the faucet and turned back to her. "Come on, I'll get you fresh sheets."

After they'd changed over Matthew's bed, Sybil sat down on the edge and leaned over to turn on the lamp.

Tom, leaning on the doorjamb, asked "Do you need anything else?"

"I think I'm good," she said quietly.

He smiled. "Well, good night, then."

He turned off the light, leaving her in the soft glow of Matthew's reading lamp, then turned to go.

"Tom?"

He turned again and stepped back into the room.

She took a deep breath. "If I asked you out again, what would you say?"

He smiled sheepishly and sat down next to her on the bed. "A second date?"

"This wasn't a really a first date, was it?"

"Of course, it was," He said leaning his shoulder against hers.

"I don't remember getting a first date kiss," she whispered.

Tom brought his hand up to her face. Sybil's eyes closed in anticipation and she leaned in slightly, causing Tom's smile to widen. Finally, he closed the distance between them and their lips came together in a light, soft kiss. As it deepened, Sybil brought her hands up to his chest and ran them up to his neck pulling him closer. Tom pulled away and brought his lips to her neck kissing from the back of her left ear down to her collarbone. Sybil leaned back onto the bed, bringing him with her. Their lips met again as Tom shifted over her. Her hands moved down his back to his waist. She grabbed the ends of his shirt and started pulling up. He rolled over to his side and pulled away long enough to let her slip his shirt off. Feeling braver—and friskier—than she'd ever felt, her skin humming under his touch, Sybil pushed him down and rolled on top of him, causing him to laugh slightly. She pulled off the borrowed T-shirt revealing her bare breasts.

Tom somehow managed not to take his eyes off of hers, and she smiled. "It's OK if you look at them, you know," she said with a laugh.

He laughed and looked down for a moment, before looking back up to her eyes again. "You are so beautiful," he whispered.

She leaned back down, and he wrapped his arms around her, capturing her lips in another kiss.

After a few minutes, she pulled away slightly, "Won't Matthew mind?"

"We'll change the sheets again after," he said, kissing along her jawline. "Why, are you going to tell him?"

Sybil laughed and leaned in again, but this time, he stopped her.

"Are you sure about this?"

"I usually don't on the first date, but I'm making an exception for you."

"Thank you," he said with a soft smile.

She smiled, cheekily. "Do you have any notes?"

"For the foreseeable future, don't go on any dates that aren't with me."