A/N: So, one evening my dear friend Sarah and I were watching Lark Rise to Candleford. (Series 2, ep 1 - the christmas special). While watching, it struck us that a few lines would be brilliant when put into an M/M context. We wrote down all the amusing lines and I was challenged to somehow write them into an M/M fic, and, voila! As such, it is really not very serious at all, so please don't take it too seriously!

Consider this an introductory chapter; the next will have the Lark Rise lines in. I consider it to be set in the same "fluffiverse" of Silvestria's 'While the Paint Dries', so thank you to her for letting me reference it! And thanks to Silverduck for giving me the idea on which to hang the lines, and for beta-ing!

WARNING: EXTREME fluff ahead! You have been warned! I hope you enjoy :) (Sarah darling, this is for you!)

To Prove a Woman Wrong

Matthew was sitting up in bed, attempting to read some background details on the trade dispute case he was currently working on before going to sleep. Though his work was normally reserved purely for his small study, this evening he had begun to feel an ache in his shoulders from hunching over his desk all day, and so had decided that he might as well do his reading in some relative comfort.

His wife, however, was not making it very easy for him.

Mary lay curled against him, her head on his shoulder (looking very disparagingly at what he was reading). Her arm was draped tenderly across him, and her fingers traced idle circles on his chest. He was well enough able to read like that, his only concession to affection being an arm settled comfortably around her shoulders; the only difficulty arising when he needed to turn the page. No, it was not her position that distracted him, nor even the tantalising sensation of her nails grazing across his skin. This evening, it was the numerous irritable little sighs indicating her annoyance at his lack of attention, making it impossible for him to concentrate for more than a few sentences at a time. After reading one particularly wordy passage four times with no success, he closed the file rather more loudly than necessary, and set it down resignedly on the bedside cabinet. Settling his head against hers, he gave a quiet sigh.

"What is it, Mary?" He spoke lightly, knowing that it was probably only a slight matter. His fingers began to unconsciously twist gently into her hair. He waited, while she gathered her tumbling thoughts.

"How did we get to this again, Matthew?" There was a slight grumble to her tone. Knowing full well that she was referring to the expectation of their fifth child in but seven years of marriage, he raised his eyebrows, a slight smirk playing about his lips.

"I think you know very well how that happened, darling!" He smiled as she gave him a playful slap of rebuke. She pushed herself up a little, turning her head to meet his eyes.

"I know that very well!" She could not hold her teasing glare for long. "I only meant..." She relaxed back against his shoulder, taking a breath. "Do not misunderstand me, I couldn't love our darling angels more, and this one" (she patted her belly gently) "I shall love no less, but... Matthew, five children! It is a lot to deal with!"

Matthew hugged her slightly closer, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. He had to admit that she was right. It was not that they struggled to cope with the care of their current brood of four. Crawley House was admittedly becoming a little tight for comfort; though things had been made easier by Isobel relocating to a comfortable cottage in the village soon after the birth of their first child, the rooms were now beginning to fill. But it was not a problem. Money had never been a particular trouble either; Matthew had received handsome amounts from his war services, and since had continued to progress within the law firm. Mary's parents had been extremely kind, and very generous in providing for their grandchildren. But now, with their fifth on the way, expected in only a few months, Matthew felt he could accept no more of it.

"Darling, we'll be fine. Arabella is old enough now to not require quite so much attention, so really it will be very little extra trouble." He thought for a moment, trying to convince himself as well as her. "No, I think our main trial will be space in the nursery, with little Lizzie requiring the crib still. We shall need another."

"Mmm." Mary murmured her agreement. "Mama said the same thing only last week. You know that she and Papa would want to gift us one, for the baby." It seemed almost pointless to object; Lord and Lady Grantham seemed to bestow a more impressive gift with each child.

"Absolutely not." Matthew suddenly declared after a moment's thought. Mary turned awkwardly to raise her eyebrows at him, but he was adamant. "Your parents have done far too much for us. I don't want to accept any more charity from them, Mary."

"I think it unfair to call it charity, Matthew!" Mary exclaimed, sitting up a little to turn fully to him.

"I know. I know it is not like that." He shrugged. "But they have given us so much for the children, and... Darling, by all means they may be generous, but something so special as a new crib, I would like to come from us. I hope that does not make me ungrateful or unkind." He reached across to place a hand comfortingly on Mary's rounded belly, covering her hand with his own.

"No.." Mary thought for a moment and quietly relented. "No, it does not. You're right, it would be nice for that to come from us."

Matthew considered things for a moment, distractedly playing with Mary's hair as he thought. Suddenly, his eyes lit up, and he turned excitedly to her. Mary raised her eyebrows, wondering what on earth he'd hit upon now as he clutched her hand.

"You know, Mary, don't you think it would be wonderful if I were to build a crib myself?"

"What?" She shook her head in resigned wonder at him, but he was undeterred.

"For our child to sleep in a crib made by my own hands. Don't you think it's a splendid idea?"

"Oh Matthew..." Mary suddenly laughed at his excitement and wrapped her arms around him fondly, tucking her head into his shoulder. "I do love you! But darling, must I remind you that your skills lie in the field of law, and not of carpentry?" She grinned into his shoulder, placing a small trail of affectionate kisses. She fondly remembered the enthusiasm which had gripped him during her first pregnancy to decorate the nursery himself. The bright little line of ducklings along the skirting board made her smile without fail every time she entered the room. Sometimes, she thought him utterly mad, but wonderfully so.

"I'm not thinking of a career change! Merely a pastime. But you never know, it may turn out I have a flair for it!"

"Heaven help us! I'm not sure a carpenter would be very befitting for a future earl! At least as a lawyer you are somewhat respectable, dearest!" Mary twisted around, folding her arms upon his chest and resting her chin on them, smiling fondly at him. "You know, I think that you take on these schemes because you're nervous. That's really quite endearing!"

Matthew frowned gently, easing Mary tenderly off before rolling onto his side. He settled down into the soft covers, tucking her comfortingly against him, placing a soft kiss to the back of her shoulder.

"I'm glad you find it so, darling!" His voice dropped a little lower. "Maybe I am. You might think I would be less so this time, having had a little practise at fatherhood by now!"

"Hmm, just a little..." Mary murmured peacefully. "What a good job you'll be getting some more then, my love."

"I suppose it is." He curled his arm around her a little tighter as his voice dropped to barely above a quiet whisper. "And I could not be more glad of it."

Mary had hoped that a night's sleep would have rid Matthew of the odd impulse to build a crib himself for their unborn child. She was wrong.

A few days later, she sat in the early evening, happily playing some unspecific clapping game with little Julia. The three year old was sat upon her knee, giggling and smacking Mary's upheld hands. Mary laughed in delight. She was making the most of being able to give her undivided attention to their third child, whilst Arabella and Reginald were with the nanny, and Lizzie asleep in the nursery. She looked up eagerly as a faint noise floated through the window, the familiar chug and rumble that signalled Matthew's return home from work. She scooped Julia up into her arms as she stood, tucking a golden curl back into place on the child's head.

"We want to look our best for Papa now, don't we!" she murmured with a smile, to herself as much as to Julia.

With the little girl settled upon her hip, Mary stepped outside to greet her husband. As his motorcycle wheeled around the corner, she could not prevent a smile. The smile quickly dropped, however, when she saw what was in his sidecar.

"Matthew!" She exclaimed as he drew to a stop and dismounted. "What on earth is that!" Her eyes landed, widened in horror, upon the pile of timber thrown into the small vehicle.

"It's for the crib, darling!" He said, pulling his motorcycle helmet off. "Well I need materials with which to make it, don't I! There's a timber merchant I know of in Ripon, I stopped there on my way home and got this."

"Are you really so fixed upon this, Matthew?" Mary raised her eyebrows. "You do not know how to build cribs! How will you possibly manage?"

"I will manage." Matthew took a step towards her. "I have done some woodwork in my youth, and see no reason why the skills should not have remained with me. I sought some advice at the timber merchants, and am feeling quite confident!" His eyes sparkled with enthusiasm.

"Oh my dear..." Mary smiled, shaking her head.

"Do you think me not up to the task, Mary?" He raised his eyebrows in challenge.

"I would not dare to make such a judgement!" she insisted, before a smile appeared on her lips. "If I did not... Well, you shall just have to prove me wrong!"

"Nothing would give me greater pleasure, my darling!" Matthew grinned mischievously at her. Suddenly his expression turned to mock hurt. "Anyway, this is a fine greeting for my return from a hard day's work!" Mary chuckled, stepping towards him.

"How remiss of me. Hello, darling!"

Matthew smiled, closing the distance between them. He placed a fond kiss on his daughter's rosy cheek, grinning at her delighted clap and cry of "Papa!" before turning his attention to his wife. He kissed her sweetly, pulling back and looking wonderingly into her eyes. It never ceased to amaze him how, after seven years, every kiss still took his breath away. Mary softly placed her free hand on his chest, before taking hold of the lapel of his leather coat, pulling him towards her for a more lingering embrace. Matthew responded in delight . Suddenly, his brief moment of bliss was interrupted by a playful slap on the cheek from a giggling Julia. Mary laughed at Matthew's gasp of mock horror, before he swept the little girl into the air, laughing as she squealed excitedly. He settled his daughter into his arms, his eyes turning to Mary with an amused sparkle.

"I shall prove you wrong, my love!"

"I very much hope you do," she responded dryly, though a smile played about her lips. "The amount of effort you will no doubt throw into it, it would be a terrible shame if you did not!"

Looping her arm through his, she turned her head with a last despairing look at the timber heaped into his motorcycle, before they stepped inside.

A/N: Did you make it to the end without a sick bag? I'd like to reiterate that this is very much not to be taken seriously! I love the idea of sweet and happily married M/M, it's great in my head but I hope it hasn't come out too cheesily. Reviews would be massively appreciated so I know I haven't scared you all off! (Though constructive criticisms are also very welcomed!)

Thank you for reading :)