Written for the tumblr prom (one of the most beautiful I've ever been given): "Molesley's been gone for about a week. He's in the village helping his unwell father and Baxter comes to visit on her off day. They end up making love his room." I really hope you like it.

Mrs Hughes had told her the way to the house, made sure she knew it was the one with the blue door, and Mrs Patmore had packed her a basket of cherry jam and a cake to take with her. She had never been to the Molesleys' house before and they weren't expecting her, but thus informed and equipped, she was confident that she'd get there and expected that she'd be welcomed.

She found the right street without difficulty, there weren't many streets to choose from in Downton, and knocked on the blue door.

When he opened the door, the surprise to see her was evident in his face.

"Hello, Miss Baxter," he told her.

"Hello," she replied, "It was my afternoon off and I thought I'd come and see how you and your dad are," she paused for a fraction of a second before adding, "I've missed you being around."

She saw the fraction of a smile that appeared on his face, and she knew she had been right to say it.

"Please come in," he asked her, stepping back to allow her into the hallway.

The corridor, like the room he led her into was plain and only essentially furnished but full of natural light. There was a simplicity to it and a lack of excess.

He saw her casting her eye around the room, and told her, "Dad usually like to have some flowers in here, but with him not being well I've been putting them on his window sill upstairs. It looks a bit plain in here without them."

'No, I like it," she assured him, "How is your dad feeling?"

"He's asleep at the moment," he told her, "He was tired after the doctor came. But he would have liked to have seen you if he'd been up."

"That's alright," she replied, "I'm glad he's getting better. Mrs Patmore sent these," she indicated to the basket, which she sent on the table between them, "And she sends her good wishes. They all do."

"That's very kind of her," he replied, then, indicating to the chair by the table, "Please have a seat. Do you want some tea?"

"Only if you're having some," she answered, "I'm actually alright."

He waited until she took a chair and then sat down as well, in the one next to her end of the table.

"Anything happened while I've been away?" he asked.

"Not much, no," she replied, "It's been very dull without you."

He smiled at her, obviously thinking she was indulging him.

"I've missed having someone to talk to in the evenings," she told him softly, "Thomas is hardly the world's greatest conversationalist."

He did seem to smile genuinely at that.

"Well, I'll be back soon," he told her, "As soon as dad's on his feet again. Or Mr Carson's patience runs out. Whichever comes first."

"It'll be alright," she assured him, "I think he wants you to take your time. He likes your dad. He understands. He knows it's difficult for you too."

He looked reassured, and said, with an amused, wary look.

"It's easier now that his cough has gone and I'm not up and down the stairs all day to check on him."

"Why, have you been sleeping on the settee?" she asked him.

"No, I haven't," he answered, "My room's through there."

He pointed at the door ajar at the back of the room.

"It's only a little house, and the other room at the top has such a big window that my dad wanted it for the plants so I had that one. It was great when I was a kid, I would sneak through to the kitchen for extra food when mam and dad had gone to bed."

She grinned at him.

"I bet you used it to smuggle girls in too when you were a bit older."

He gave her a look.

She grinned again.

"Sorry," she told softly him, glancing back up at him, "I forgot for a moment that you're better than I am."

"I'm not," he replied, just as softly, "I just never got around to doing that sort of thing."

There was silence for a few moments.

"I missed you a lot too this week," he told her at last.

"I know what you mean," she replied, "Invalids are never the best companions."

"No, they're not," he agreed with her, "But that's not what I meant. I missed seeing you."

"I would have come more often," she replied, "But this was my only time off. And I didn't want to be in your way."

"You wouldn't have been," he told her, "Anything but."

Another silence. A sad look had set across his face.

"Did you manage to get any reading done at least?" she asked him quickly.

"Yes, I did!" he replied, his liveliness returning swiftly, "Come and see this!"

He stood up, and she followed him towards the door of his room.

"What do you think of that?" he asked, standing in the door way, opening the door fully so that she could see inside.

There were books scattered around on every available surface many of them lying open. It was so much the opposite of what a footman's room should look like that it made her smile widely.

"I think it would give Mr Carson a funny turn if he came in here," she replied.

He laughed at that.

"I think you're right," he told her.

"It's very different in here," she told her him, taking a step, small but assertive, inside.

He followed, closing the door to behind them.

"Yes, I suppose you're right," he agreed, stooping down to tidy up some of the books, "Dad's always been a bit more organised than me. It was spic and span in here when I came back, and I've made all this mess," he straightened up, a frown on his brow, "Maybe dad should have been the footman, not me."

"You're a very good footman," she told him.

He smiled at her, putting the pile of books of the chest of drawers.

"I still think it would have been nice to have been, you know, something more," he admitted.

"You are," she told him firmly, "You are something more. To all of us. Where would your dad have been without you this week? And you are to me."

He looked at her, a little alarmed at the suddenness of her manner.

"Sorry," she told him, quickly, "Just, it upsets me a bit when you talk like that."

"It's alright," he told her, "Of course it's alright."

They were quiet for a moment.

"Do you want to go back through to the other room?" he asked her.

"No."

She answered instinctively. His eyes widened, and she thought for a moment she had really shocked him.

"I like it in here," she explained quietly.

He nodded, slowly.

"As long as you're alright in here," he told her.

"Of course I'm alright," she told him, "Why wouldn't I be?"

But she didn't want him to answer. And then, to stop him, as he opened his mouth, she reached for him, taking his hand in hers, silencing him again.

"I missed you," she explained in a whisper, stroking her thumb gently over the back of his hand.

"I know," he replied, "I missed you too."

They were standing close together. His breathing seemed heavier than it had done a moment ago.

"I miss you whenever you're not here," he told her, his eyes taking in her face as he spoke, "I hate it when her Ladyship goes away."

Her hand raised tentatively, cupping his cheek carefully, tracing his skin under her thumb.

"I hate it too," she replied.

"I love you," he breathed.

She kissed him, pressing her lips swiftly to his, pulling away a fraction to whisper, "I love you too."

And then they were in each others arms, tugging one another across the room towards the bed, sitting down on it, kissing each other all of the time, their hands caressing one another's skin.

"I love you," she whispered again, lying back on the bed and pulling him with her, grasping the front of his shirt playfully.

She was glad he was not in his livery, it would make things much easier, if only for this first time.

He was passionate but shy. He kissed her headily, but his hand stayed comparatively restrained by her shoulders or on her sides. Taking his hand in hers, she watched his face as she pressed his palm to her breast, covering his hand with hers and encouraging his to kneed her breast through her dress and brassiere. She smiled as his eye closed in pleasure, he was unused to intimacy, but it was good because even this small action could bring him such comfort. She cupped his cheek in her palm, drawing him down for another kiss before moving her hands to his buttons and unfastening his shirt. He took the hint and began to do the same to her dress.

He watched her carefully, tenderly, as sat up, shaking her shoulders out of her dress and pushing it downwards off her waist. She raised her arms to loosen her hair and his eyes wandered towards her breasts, pressed together in her brassiere. She smiled and nodded, allowing him to reach forwards and, after a moment of work, unfasten it. She pushed his shirt off his body too, moving closer to him to press their bodies together. He gave a quiet groan.

His arms raised around her body to hold her to him, his hands tangled in her long hair, kissing her deeply. She sat with her legs sprawled open over his, sitting in his lap nearly, feeling his excitement push through his trousers. She suspected he was new to this, but that didn't matter, what matter was that he was sure.

"Is this what you want?" she asked him quietly, her lips close to his ears.

"Yes," he told her quietly, his hands resting on her hips.

She rocked a little closer to him, pressing herself against his excitement. He gave another groan.

"I want you," he told her hoarsely, "I love you."

His hand moved from her hip, resting softly on her thigh.

"I've thought about what this would be like," he admitted quietly, "I've wanted you a lot."

Taking his hand again, she moved it between her thighs, encouraging him to touch her through her underwear. She moaned and she heard him sigh as he felt how hot she was, nodding her encouragements as he sought to touch her under the fabric. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled herself closer to him and kissed him.

"I want you," she told him, quietly, in his ear, as he touched her, "I need you."

He paused for a moment, withdrawing his hand. She realised he did not quite know what to do next.

"It's alright," she told him, shuffling away a little, "You lie down and take your trousers off."

He did as she told him, and a moment later she lay naked beside him on his bed.

Her hand stroked slowly down his chest.

"Are you sure?" she asked him again.

He nodded.

Gently taking him in her hand, she smiled as he kissed with pleasure. She worked hand carefully, thoroughly along his length. His eyes were closed.

She sat up, parting her thighs over his middle straddling him. He opened his eyes at the feeling of her touching his stomach like that, his pupils dilated with desire. She sank down onto him taking him inside her.

"Phyllis," her name slipped from his mouth, and made her smile.

Her hand caressed his neck as she began to move over him, rocking herself into his body. He let her do so for a few moments, watching her, and then he sat up too, as best he could, thrusting up into her. She moaned.

"I love you," he whispered, "I missed you."

She held his face, cradling it in her hands as she continued to move.

"I love you too," she told him.

His hand wandered to her breast again and she shuddered, holding his body hard too hers. She felt him spill himself inside her- but that was alright, she would worry about that later on- heard him cry out and felt his body shake. Trembling a little herself, she rested her forehead on his shoulder, allowing herself to capitulate back onto the bed with him. He buried his face in the top of her head, kissing her dark hair and holding her tightly.

I need you to stay with me like this, she thought to herself, I can't bear for this not to happen again.

But he was stroking her back, tenderly, even, as he was, falling asleep. She smiled. God willing, she would not have to miss him like this again.

End.

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