This is my contribution to the Chelsie Holiday Exchange. Happy Christmas, theoofoof!

Mrs. Hughes awoke at three o'clock in the morning. She had slept only a few hours, but she decided to get dressed and see how things were progressing. A peek through the green baize door told her that the Christmas ball was winding down, though a few couples still danced in the beautifully decorated great hall. When she got downstairs, the kitchen was dark, but she knew the kitchen maids would arrive soon to start breakfast. She passed the servants' hall, where Mr. Barrow was asleep in his usual chair at the table. Mrs. Hughes hoped that he was just catching a few winks before going back upstairs to relieve Mr. Molesley. She continued down the corridor, where she found Mr. Carson's pantry door half-open, a soft light emanating from the room into the corridor. She had ostensibly risen early to check on the progress of the ball, but it was really Mr. Carson that she had come to see.

Mrs. Hughes slipped around the door and smiled at what she saw. Mr. Carson was asleep in a chair, a cup and saucer perched on his knee, his fingers only just preventing it from falling. She had caught him like this many times over the years, as he waited for the end of a ball or party that ran well into the night. Mrs. Hughes had often tried to talk Mr. Carson into having a lie-in once he and the footmen had gotten things settled and the family into bed in the wee hours of the morning. He would have none of it, however, and she had stopped trying some years ago. Today, however, she decided on a different strategy. If she could make him comfortable without waking him, perhaps he would stay asleep for a little while longer.

She noticed that the fire had gone out; it was quite chilly in the room. Mrs. Hughes went to her sitting room and returned with a quilt she kept there. She didn't often have occasion to use it, but she was always glad to have it close at hand when she needed it. She stood watching Mr. Carson sleep for a few moments, a fond smile on her lips. He looked so peaceful when she caught him at rest. She was as quiet as she could be as she laid the quilt on another chair and took the cup of tea from his hand. At one point, he shifted in his seat and she was sure he would wake up, but he did not, and she set the cup and saucer on his desk. Then she laid the quilt over his shoulders. If he should move about while he was sleeping, it might fall, but for now it was enough.

Mrs. Hughes returned to the servants' hall where she found Mr. Barrow still seated, groggy but now awake. "Mr. Barrow, I hope you and Mr. Molesley can finish things upstairs," she told him quietly. "Or if you prefer to send Mr. Molesley to bed and keep Andy with you, that will do. It is up to you."

Mr. Barrow took a deep breath gave a great yawn. "And Mr. Carson?"

"Mr. Carson would like you to take charge of things," Mrs. Hughes replied. "Can you manage?"

"Certainly, I can," he answered, sitting up straighter. "I'll go up right now."

"Thank you, Mr. Barrow." Mrs. Hughes gave him a nod and returned to the butler's pantry. This time she closed the door behind her. Mr. Carson was still asleep, wrapped up in the quilt. Mrs. Hughes took a chair and sat beside him, just to watch him sleep. She hoped he wouldn't wake up and wonder what on earth she was doing. She noticed, however, after she had let her eyes wander over his profile, that his stiff collar was digging into his neck. Most of the time his erect posture kept this from happening, but as he was now, Mrs. Hughes could see that it must be very uncomfortable, or at least it would be when he woke up. She hesitated a few moments, but in the end she decided to risk waking him in order to give him some comfort. She carefully untied his white tie and let it hang where it was. She had seen enough of these stiff collars in her life to know how to unfasten one, although she had certainly never undone Mr. Carson's before. Luck, or more likely his exhaustion, was on her side and he did not even stir. Mrs. Hughes sat back down to watch over him. He did not need supervision, but she couldn't drag herself away. As she sat beside him he started mumbling. At first she couldn't make out what he was saying, but after a few minutes more of his words became intelligible. She leaned in his direction, trying to catch everything he said. He seemed to be smiling faintly as he spoke, his voice soft and gentle.

"I'll make a fire… tea when you get back. Don't be long... Miss you." Mr. Carson paused, as though listening to someone's reply, and then he laughed quietly. "I know. Only an hour. But wait." His voice dropped to a whisper now and Mrs. Hughes had to lean close to hear. "Kiss me? Before you go?" She blushed now, feeling like she was somehow intruding on his private thoughts. But before she could move away from him, he spoke again. "Goodbye, Elsie."

Mrs. Hughes finally did pull away from Mr. Carson very quickly, flushing an even deeper shade of red. She tried to keep silent, but her own pulse in her ears was so loud that she almost feared it would wake him. She sat back in her chair and watched Mr. Carson. He had settled down again and was sleeping peacefully. Mrs. Hughes wondered what his words meant. He was dreaming of her, that much was clear - dreaming of building a fire, making her tea, and kissing her. Were these dreams a reflection of the real thoughts in his mind and emotions in his heart? Or were they something less meaningful - just fantasies concocted by his unconscious mind which held no real significance?

Mrs. Hughes had no way of determining the answers to these questions, but she felt even more mesmerized by Mr. Carson than before. She settled on simply staying by his side. She had only slept a few hours herself and she was feeling rather drowsy. She moved her chair as close to his as she could and slipped her hand under the blanket in search of his hand. When she found it, resting on his knee, she gently threaded her fingers between his and held tight to him. It was not long before she fell asleep.

Mr. Carson awoke a short time later. He didn't open his eyes right away, because he thought he was dreaming some of the sensations he felt, and he didn't want to wake from them. He knew that he must be seated in a chair in his pantry, but he felt much too warm and comfortable for that to be the case. Noises from the kitchen eventually broke through his semi-consciousness, however, and he forced his eyes open. He was surprised, yet pleased, by what he found. He was still seated on the chair in which he vaguely remembered falling asleep, but a familiar quilt was wrapped around him. Mrs. Hughes sat beside him in another chair, holding his hand, her head resting against his shoulder. He stayed still for a bit to enjoy this moment. The quilt smelled like her, because she occasionally wrapped it around her own shoulders when she worked late on cold nights, and he felt especially warm where she touched him. He was careful not to disturb her, but he could not prevent a wide grin from taking shape on his lips. It was only then that Mr. Carson noticed that he had been released from the confines of his collar. The only explanation he considered likely was that Mrs. Hughes had unfastened it for him so that he might breathe and sleep more comfortably. Somehow she had done all of this without even waking him. What a very dear woman she was.

Just as Mrs. Hughes had noticed when she had first entered the pantry, Mr. Carson now saw that the fire had long gone out and she was likely rather chilled. He wondered if he could fetch her a blanket without waking her. He gently nudged her a little so that her head rested against the back of her chair instead of on his shoulder, and he slid his fingers slowly out from between hers. Just as Mrs. Hughes kept a quilt in her cupboard, Mr. Carson had a blanket in his, and he pulled it out and unfolded it. He wrapped it somewhat awkwardly around her and slid back into his seat and tried to rearrange things back to the way they were when he first awoke. He rested their joined hands on his knee and, to his surprise, Mrs. Hughes sighed and shifted a little to rest her head against his shoulder once again. Mr. Carson looked down at her and was relieved to see that she was still sleeping peacefully. Before long, he was asleep again himself, without a thought to the ball upstairs or the kitchen maids just down the corridor.

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Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes were both awakened some time later by the sound of the pantry door closing. They still held hands, but Mrs. Hughes had also wrapped her free hand around Mr. Carson's upper arm, and he rested his ear on the top of her head. Mr. Carson opened his eyes first, and was surprised to find a tea tray with cups, saucers, and a steaming pot of hot water sitting on a table nearby. Someone had been in here just now. Mrs. Hughes yawned and opened her eyes. The tea tray caught her eye as well and she immediately drew the same conclusion he had. She pulled away from Mr. Carson to sit up straight, though she let her hand remain clasped with his.

"Who do you think…?" he asked, nodding toward the tea tray.

"I hope it was Mrs. Patmore," she replied.

"Do you feel all right, Mrs. Hughes?" Mr. Carson asked. "A chair isn't the most comfortable place to sleep."

"That's true," she agreed. "But I did have a blanket and this nice pillow." She patted his arm and smiled.

Mr. Carson flushed, but made no move to disentangle his hand from hers. "Thank you for the quilt, and for taking care of my collar, Mrs. Hughes."

"And thank you for the blanket, Mr. Carson."

"I suppose we should have some tea," he remarked, looking down at Mrs. Hughes.

She turned up to meet his eyes and couldn't speak for a moment. She felt his breath on her face. For a second or two they were both frozen, only inches apart, but then Mrs. Hughes turned away, blushing. "Yes, we had better have some tea before the water gets cold." Mr. Carson very reluctantly let her hand loose when she stood up from her chair and laid the blanket over the back of it. He let the quilt fall to cover only his legs so he could take the cup of tea she handed him. He was glad, at least, that once she had fixed her own cup, Mrs. Hughes settled back into the chair beside him.

They sipped in silence, each wanting to speak, but unable to find the right words. Mr. Carson spoke first. He didn't know if he would find the right words; he only hoped they weren't the wrong ones.

"I suppose Mr. Barrow took charge after I fell asleep?" he conjectured.

Mrs. Hughes smiled. "Yes, I told him you wanted him to take care of things upstairs. I don't think he knows you were sleeping."

Mr. Carson chuckled softly. "Thank you for not betraying me, Mrs. Hughes."

"I never would," she replied seriously. Mr. Carson was caught by the intensity of her expression and made no answer. "I'll never tell anyone that you talk in your sleep, either."

"Do I?" Mr. Carson wondered what he might have said. Had he been dreaming?

"You do."

"And will you not tell me what I said?" he wondered.

Mrs. Hughes blushed and looked away.

Mr. Carson was concerned. He tried to concentrate, to recall any dreams he might have had. He closed his eyes and recalled the warmth he felt upon awakening and images began to pass through his mind. It was a variation on the dream that had visited him often in recent months. He and Mrs. Hughes were married and retired, living in a cottage, and they were very happy. He might have said any number of things. The important thing now would be to determine whether Mrs. Hughes had been upset by whatever he had said. She was blushing, but was she angry?

"Mrs. Hughes, I apologize if I've said something to offend you," he began.

She immediately turned to face him and smiled slightly. "No, not at all. It was just…" She tried to find the words. "You were talking to me and you called me Elsie. It's been a long time since you called me that." She swallowed. "It was nice."

Mr. Carson nodded slowly and put down his cup of tea. He took her free hand between both of his. "I was having a dream, Mrs. Hughes."

"A good dream, I think," she commented. "You were smiling."

Mr. Carson smiled. "Yes, a very good dream. If it ever came true, I would be a very happy man."

Mrs. Hughes seemed a little breathless. "Then you really-" She stopped herself, frowning and biting her lip. She looked down at their joined hands. "Will you tell me about your dream? Is it an impossible fantasy, or might it really come true?"

"I don't know if it will come true, but I think it's possible," Mr. Carson answered cautiously.

Mrs. Hughes nodded, maintaining eye contact and a questioning expression.

"Would you mind if I called you Elsie?" he asked.

"Not at all. I'd like it."

"Just when the others aren't about, of course," he rushed to add. "But you did say-"

Mrs. Hughes smiled at him. "Is that your dream, Mr. Carson?" she teased. "To call me Elsie?"

He looked deeply into her eyes. "That's part of it."

Mrs. Hughes's smile dissolved as she met his intense gaze. "Just part of it?"

Mr. Carson nodded. "Will you tell me what I said, Elsie? Then perhaps I can better explain my dream."

She nodded and began. "Your calling me Elsie was the last thing I heard. You said, 'Goodbye, Elsie,' and then you were quiet again."

"And before that?" he prompted.

"First you said you would build a fire and we could have tea when I got back. You told me not to be long and that you'd miss me." Mrs. Hughes looked at him, wondering if she really ought to continue. He nodded his encouragement and she pushed on. "You said you knew it was only an hour, laughing as though I had teased you about it."

"Is that all?" Mr. Carson wanted to know.

"Not quite," she replied. Mrs. Hughes looked down again at her hand surrounded by both of his large ones. After some deliberation, she rested her head against his shoulder so she could say it without looking at him directly, but still be close to him. "You asked me to wait. You wanted to kiss me before I left."

"And then I told you goodbye?"

"Yes, and then you were quiet and didn't say anything else."

"I've had dreams like that quite a lot recently," Mr. Carson admitted.

"Oh?"

"Yes. I dream of marrying you and living with you in a little cottage. I dream of kissing you goodbye every time you go to the village without me."

"And that is the dream…?" Mrs. Hughes trailed off, not quite sure if she wanted to ask the question.

"Yes," he replied solemnly. "That is the dream I wish for, though there is more to it than just kissing you. I love you, Elsie, in the dream and in life. And my dream Elsie loves me back." Mr. Carson's voice had dropped to little above a whisper.

"Your Elsie in life loves you, too," Mrs. Hughes said softly.

"My Elsie? Is she really mine?" Mr. Carson wondered. He felt sure of her feelings now, but his heart pounded and he resisted the urge to pull her up from her seat and twirl her around the room.

"She is," Mrs. Hughes confirmed, a brilliant smile appearing on her face. "Or she will be once you've asked her to."

Mr. Carson shifted in his chair to look at her. She sat up straight and looked right back. His lips quirked into a little smile. "You look as happy as I feel."

Mrs. Hughes caressed his cheek with her hand. "You look... terribly handsome."

Mr. Carson flushed slightly. "Will you be mine, Elsie? Will you marry me?"

"Yes." The single word spoken by Mrs. Hughes held so much promise and joy that almost as soon as it had fallen from her lips she was in her beloved's arms. He had stood and pulled her from her chair and into a warm embrace. She laughed breathlessly as he held her tightly against his chest; she squeezed him just as tightly.

Then Mr. Carson loosened his hold on her so he could look at her. "You're beautiful."

"Silly man," was all the response Mrs. Hughes could manage.

Mr. Carson bent to kiss her and she forgot where she was, what time it was, and everything else about herself except that she was a woman named Elsie who loved a man named Charles. And that Charles happened to be kissing her as no man had kissed her before. His tongue had gently, but with determination, invaded her mouth and was doing things that made her knees feel weak. She returned his kiss with enthusiasm and he pulled her closer. Mrs. Hughes at last broke the kiss so she could catch her breath.

"Happy Christmas, Elsie," Mr. Carson murmured into her hair.

"Happy Christmas, Charles," she replied breathlessly. "I love you."

"I love you, too. You're irresistible, you know." His voice rumbled through her body.

"I didn't think... didn't know it would..." She trailed off helplessly.

"I didn't know, either," he admitted. "I knew I wanted to kiss you, but..."

Mrs. Hughes laughed quietly. "You don't need to explain, Charles. Just kiss me like that again."

Mr. Carson smiled devilishly. "As you wish, Mrs. Carson," he told her.

"I'm not Mrs. Carson yet, Charles," she pointed out.

"Aren't you? I'm sorry. I suppose I thought I must be dreaming."

"No, you're not dreaming," Mrs. Hughes commented. "But someday soon I hope you'll tell me about all those dreams."

"Someday soon I will," he replied. "Once you're Mrs. Carson. But let's leave that for now. I'd like another kiss, my dear."

"Of course," Mrs. Hughes acquiesced, turning her face up toward his and smiling mischievously. "What in the world are you waiting for?"

Mr. Carson didn't wait any longer. He took her face between his hands and dropped little kisses on her cheeks and eyelids before he kissed her lips once more with fervor, leaving his pantry and Downton Abbey and the Crawleys behind in favor of dreams of retirement and a cottage with Mrs. Carson. As for Mrs. Hughes, she forgot where she was, what time it was, why she was in the butler's pantry, and for a few moments, she even lost track of her own name, as she enjoyed a Christmas kiss from the man she loved.

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Mrs. Patmore, down the corridor in her kitchen, hummed a merry carol. The sweet sight that had greeted her in the butler's pantry earlier that morning made her feel quite cheerful. When she walked in on them later she was flabbergasted to see that her friends were sleeping again, but this time on the same chair. Mrs. Hughes sat on Mr. Carson's lap, her head resting on his chest and his arms wound around her waist. Mrs. Patmore could only speculate on what might have happened between her two visits to the pantry, but it must have been something special. When her presence did not wake them she took Mrs. Hughes's quilt, discarded on the other chair, and draped it gently over them. She turned to go and found, miraculously, that the key was still in the door knob. With one last look over her shoulder, she left the room, closed the door, and locked it from the outside. When she had determined that no one was watching, she crouched to the floor, surreptitiously slid the key under the door, and made her way back to the kitchen. It was a very happy Christmas for at least two people in the house.

The end.

a/n: As soon as I received the message that I would be writing a story for theoofoof for this holiday exchange, I went to her blog to see if I could find some inspiration. One of the first things I saw was the pair of photos from the S4 CS of Mrs. Hughes finding Mr. Carson half-asleep in his office as Lady Rose's ball is winding down. "And what about you?" "It won't be the first time I've gone without sleep." And thus, this story was born.

Please leave a review if you can spare a few moments.

I hope you have a wonderful holiday, theoofoof!