One More Night

By: piperholmes

A/N: So you can totally blame this story on elleisforlovee and Yankee Countess. They encouraged this! During Smut Weekend I wrote a blurb about a Modern AU where Sybil and Tom work with each other and, even though their relationship is forbidden and they themselves argue and fight, they can't stay away from each other. After several conversations with YC this story has been born! She deserves and extra big SHOUT OUT for her help in developing this idea. She has been my muse with this and trust me when I say there will be a rather steamy chapter completely inspired by her, and this story will be M-Rated! Now, this is just the first chapter as a bit of a teaser because I really want to finish Strip before I start on this one. (Also working on the *secretly marries Series 2 AU) so I'm just kind of floating this out there to see if there is any interest in continuing. Sorry for the long note. This is unbeta'd.

Oh, and before I forget, I have practically ZERO knowledge of British politics beyond what I picked up on Wikipedia and from watching Party Animals. So you are seriously going to have to be forgiving with some of this!

Makes Me Wonder

I wake up with blood-shot eyes
Struggled to memorize
The way it felt between your thighs
Pleasure that made you cry
Feels so good to be bad
Not worth the aftermath, after that
After that

"It's in the bag Edna," Tom offered, shoving his bite of ham and swiss to the side of his mouth, never able to waste time with even chewing before speaking. "How could it not be?"

The young woman sighed, pushing around the spinach of her salad with a fork. "If it's such a guarantee then why is Evelyn even interviewing these people?"

Tom scoffed, swallowing his food. "You know this business. It's 98% appearances. You've worked for him for the last year. You've been a great intern but this position is a big deal for anyone trying to make it in politics. It has to at least look like we're being fair."

Edna merely nodded, but couldn't help the uneasy feeling that had lodged in her stomach when Napier had announced they would be opening up the pool of applicants for the researcher position. And it was a big deal; Evelyn Napier, Labour MP, young, attractive, energetic, probably the fastest rising star for the party, and to be riding his coattails was no small matter. Researcher wasn't a huge step up from intern but at least it was a paid position and had some to do with crafting policies rather than judt pouring coffee and making copies.

"Look," Tom tried again, "Not for nothing but there's a reason I've run all of his campaigns and now run his office. He trusts me and he trusts my input."

Edna smiled. She was truly grateful for the relationship she had with Tom Branson, Evelyn Napier's chief of staff. It had been a happy circumstance that had earned his trust and she wasn't going to risk that leg up by being petulant.

"You seem quite energetic and bouncy this morning," she observed, abandoning her professional concerns. Tom had a reputation for being a bit of a hard ass; very focused and not the most forgiving of men to work for, but today he seemed almost gleeful.

Edna was surprised by the easy smile he threw her. Whatever had happened had really pleased him.

"Did you score some dirt on a Tory?" Edna asked, teasing.

Tom scoffed, "If only." He wiped at his mouth with the paper napkin before finally giving into Edna's inquisitive stare. "If you must know, I met a girl last night and it went surprisingly well."

It was Edna's turn to scoff. "You met a girl? Where? All you do is work? Was she the night janitor? Did she offer to 'clean you doorknob?'"

Tom glared at her. "I go out, thank you very much, Miss Braithwaite. A pal of mine, Will Mason, is in town on military leave visiting his girl and the three of us went to listen to some music and have a drink."

Edna raised an eyebrow as she speared another bit of spinach. "And you met a girl."

She watched rather amused as Tom's cheeks pinked a little. "Must have been some girl," she muttered before taking the bite of greens.

"I'll say," Tom grinned, giving away more than perhaps he should.

"Tom Branson!" Edna choked, swallowing down her food. "You slept with her."

Tom's grin slipped. "Shh! Geez Edna, wanna shout it any louder? I don't think the Queen heard you."

"Sorry," she whispered, kicking herself.

"And so what if I did?" Tom challenged. "We are both adults, it was consensual."

The Irish Fighter, as Tom was known among the political crowd, was back, communicated in the firm lock of his jaw and dangerously raised eyebrow. Edna had been on the other side of his temper and had no wish for a repeat performance.

"I'm just surprised the rumors about you are true, that's all," she purposefully kept her tone light, striving for an air of indifference, sipping her drink.

Tom rolled his eyes. "You of all people know they're not...well not completely anyway."

That definitely was true. Edna had worked too many late nights and weekends to believe the gossip; that Tom Branson screwed anything in a skirt (a comment she knew he'd not only find offensive to himself, but to women all over the world) but something told her there were a few more broken hearts than the handsome Irishman was willing to admit.

He tossed his napkin on his plate, a crumpled white mess hiding what remained of his sandwich. "It was a one off anyway," he shrugged. "A bit of fun for us both."

Edna could tell she'd lost his attention by the way he dropped the conversation, and a moment later her suspicion was confirmed as Tom pulled out his phone, checking his texts. His shook his head, his manner stern as he shifted into office mode, and began texting back. Edna finished her salad in silence, just watching as Tom and the other person on the phone sent messages to each other. Finally Tom looked up at her, his lips pressed firmly together.

"You about done? Evelyn needs me back ASAP," he told her, which Edna knew to mean he was leaving whether she was done or not.

"All finished," she answered. Something was going on back at the office and she wasn't going to miss out.

The pair stood, Tom tossing a tip onto the table, and walked back towards Westminster. Edna was normally in the office at Skipton, and loved the chance to come again to London and be a part of the hussle and bussle. She had come for the official interview, but Tom had asked her to stay on a few days as his assistant. She wanted this, this job, this life. She wanted it desperately.

"Is everything alright?" she ventured as she worked to keep up with Tom, who rarely walked at a reasonable pace for a human being.

He glanced at her, the frown firmly in place. "Yeah, look, do me a favor, run back to the shop and grab Evelyn a sandwich. Knowing him, he's not had more than a cup of coffee today."

Edna flew to a stop, narrowly crashing into him as he suddenly turned to her, his wallet out, handing her his card. She kept her face neutral as she took the bit of plastic. She hated these kinds of errands, hated that it was expected of her to spend her time picking up someone's food. She had gone to school, she was educated, but because she was new and just an intern, it was expected of her.

Tom absently began rambling, "Just get him whatever chicken-"

"I know what he likes," she interrupted, careful to keep a smile on her lips.

Tom's smile was genuine. "That's why you're the best." And with a wave he left Edna to fulfill his request.

As he navigated the busy streets of London his mind went back to Evelyn's text.

Just finished last interview. We need to talk. Now.

Tom knew this wasn't going to go well. He'd been friends with Evelyn since University. They'd struck an unlikely friendship, a highborn aristo and working class stiff, brought together by politics and a desire to change the world. Evelyn was the most honest and straightforward guy Tom had ever met, but he was also one of the most considerate, sensitive and compassionate men as well. If he wasn't telling him in the text then that meant it was something Tom didn't want to hear and Evelyn was too mindful to break bad news to him other than in person.

As he pushed through the heavy doors of the office building he racked his brain, pulling up each candidate he'd recommended. None of them seemed to really stand out to him, and he wouldn't have pegged any of them as particularly impressive. They were all good, they were all qualified, but he couldn't figure out who would have struck such a chord with Evelyn.

Distractedly he slid his badge through the security swipe, nodding at the gentleman behind the desk. He loved this work, he loved being a part of this world. There were more bad days than good but the good days were so powerful it made it worth it. He darted passed a few other interns, waving at a lobbyist pal of his before jumping on an elevator to take him up to Evelyn's office.

He gave a smile to Anna intending to charge past but was brought up short when she waved at him frantically. Her desk phone was pressed tightly to her ear, she held up a finger indicating for him to wait a moment.

"We should be back to Skipton by Friday," she said into the phone. "He has a breakfast with the RJC Saturday morning but I can squeeze you in for lunch with Tom."

Anna listened for a moment then answered, "Unfortunately Ms. Dawson that's the best I can do at the moment. Shall I pencil it in?"

Tom suppressed a groan, but couldn't resist throwing a disgruntled look to the blonde assistant. She ignored him.

"Will do. Thank you." She replaced the handset and turned to him.

"Lunch with Gwen? Again?" Tom complained.

Anna Smith smiled at him indulgently. "It's always a good idea to stay in with the press."

Tom rolled his eyes but knew she was right. He pointed to the closed office door. "Can I head in now?"

"Actually wait just a moment."

He watched as Anna again picked up the phone. "Tom's here."

He didn't have a chance to question her as a moment later the door opened and Evelyn stepped out, pulling the door closed behind him.

"Look, Tom, we need to talk. Anna, do you mind terribly giving us a moment?"

"Not at all," the young assistant answered, standing to collect her things. "I'll just pop down and grab some lunch. Can I bring you anything?"

"I've got Edna bringing a sandwich back," Tom answered, ignoring the way Evelyn stiffened.

With a nod, Anna left, leaving the two men to face each other.

"What have you done?"

"Tom," Evelyn sighed, rubbing his fingers across his brow, a useless attempt to ease the tension in his head. "I know that we talked about Edna, and I agreed she was the best qualified, but I've got someone in my office."

Tom huffed.

"Just, listen Tom, I need you to keep an open mind. There's something...this woman is the real deal Tom. I want to hire her. I think...my instincts are telling me she's right. She's right for us."

"Who is she? I met with all the candidates. And what about Edna?" Tom demanded.

Evelyn's eyes flashed uncertainty and, perhaps, even a bit of guilt. "Yeah, about that, I really need you to keep an open mind."

Tom's brow lowered. "What the hell does that even mean Evelyn?"

The other man's jaw tightened a bit and Tom knew there was something about this woman, something that put his boss on the defensive.

"This wasn't one of your candidates," Evelyn admitted, a bit hesitantly. "In fact, it started a bit as a favor for an old family friend, but-"

"Great!" Tom cried. "Some rich toff comes calling and you just shove us all aside?"

"That's unfair," Evelyn snapped. "If you'd just keep control of that temper and shut up for once and listen, I could tell you that it started out as a favor, and I was ready to write her off. To do a meet and greet with her then show her the door, but Tom, she's...I don't know exactly, but she's got such a fire and passion. I want to give her a chance."

Tom felt his frustration building. "Who is she Evelyn?"

The young MP pressed his lips tightly together and swallowed before answering. "That's a bit of a...tricky spot. That old family friend, well, it's the Crawley family."

Tom frowned, surely not. "You don't mean Violet Crawley."

"Her granddaughter."

Tom's temper exploded. "Violet fucking Crawley's granddaughter is in your office and you want to give her a job?!"

"Keep your voice down," Evelyn commanded, his own patience growing thin. "I'm hiring her Tom and you're just going to have to deal with it. I'll figure something out with Edna but I need you with me on this. I need you with me, even if you aren't."

Tom glared at him.

"Go in there Tom. Just talk to her, giver her a chance, listen to her. You'll hear what I heard if you really listen."

Tom doubted it. He doubted it very much, but his shoulders dropped as he forced his anger down. He wasn't going to give up that easily, but knowing he should live to fight another day he waved for Evelyn to open the door.

The other man threw him a stern, warning look before turning the knob.

"Tom Branson, this is Sybil Crawley."

Tom's gaze collided with the same deep blue eyes he'd stared at the night before as he'd pinned her to the wall thrusting in and out of her.

"Shit."

To be continued

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