AUTHOR NOTES

WARNING : Heavy S4 spoilers and Slash

M rating for next chapter

This story was inspired by the conversation Thomas had with Jimmy before he left for America. He talked about doing something stupid and I thought yes, it's about time you two finally did. :)

We've not seen Ep 8 yet so I've got no idea what the festivities at Downton are, but from the preview pictures we've seen, I've decided to call it their annual garden party.

Thank you for reading this, I hope you enjoy it.

CHAPTER 1

"You're back!" Mr. Molesley said, looking up in surprise. "How was America?"

"Quite fun actually," Thomas replied from the doorway of the kitchen. "It's good to be home though. What's happening here? "

"It's the annual garden party. We're run off our feet or we'd have given you a proper homecoming. I don't suppose you could carry one of these trays? We could do with an extra pair of hands."

"Oh leave him alone, I'm sure he's tired after his long journey," Mrs Hughes said, coming to see what was taking Mr. Molesley so long. "Why don't you go up and rest Thomas. I'll tell Mr. Carson, I'm sure he won't mind."

"What won't I mind?" the senior butler's booming voice echoed down the corridor, followed by the man himself.

"I was just telling Thomas that he can go up to his room to rest, I'm sure we can make do without him." said the housekeeper, smiling at her old friend.

"Very well," Mr. Carson agreed. "I trust His Lordship's journey was successful?"

"I think so Mr. Carson, from what I could tell," Thomas replied.

The older man nodded politely and went back out to keep an eye on the maids who were ferrying trays of tea to the guests. It was a matter of personal pride to him that in all the years of the Downton Abbey garden party, not a single cup, saucer or glass had been ever been broken under his watchful eye.

"Oh look at you, our intrepid traveller returns," Mrs. Patmore came hurrying into the kitchen to pick up another tray of dainties for the buffet table outside. "Take a plate from the sideboard and help yourself Thomas, there's so much food here today they won't miss it, and I'm sure you're ready for some good English cooking after all that American steak and ketchup."

"I actually quite enjoyed the food over there," Thomas called after her as she disappeared down the corridor followed by Mrs. Hughes. He picked up a plate and started to fill it as Ivy appeared around the corner. She put her empty tray on the table and picked up another one filled with cream tartlets.

"Hello Mr. Barrow," she said smiling sweetly when she saw Thomas. "Welcome home."

A moment later Jimmy followed her into the kitchen, it looked to Thomas like he'd been running after her.

"That looks heavy Ivy, I'll take it for you."

"I don't need your help thank you very much!" she snapped at him, the smile she'd given Thomas became a scowl for Jimmy.

"Don't be like that, let me give you a hand," the blond footman pleaded.

"I've had all the hands I need from you, now get out of my way," she gave him a sour look and pushed past him, heading for the door.

Jimmy's head dropped back, he rolled his eyes to the ceiling and exhaled a loud exasperated sigh.

"You haven't won her over then?" Thomas smirked. He was trying hard not to chuckle at Jimmy's frustration.

"Does it look like it?" Jimmy huffed. His tone was indignant, but he looked defeated. He picked up a tray of champagne glasses and headed back to the garden. "Welcome back by the way," he called as he disappeared down the corridor.

XxX

After a plate of food and a hot bath Thomas felt ready to face the world again. He stood at the window raking his fingers through his damp hair. From his attic room he had a good view of the garden and he watched the party, picking out the members of the family and trying to spot the important guests, but his gaze kept coming back to one figure. Tall and effortlessly graceful as he carried a tray of drinks from one cluster of people to another, Jimmy was easy to spot. The way he walked, the way he held his head, and the afternoon sun that caught the hints of gold in his blond hair had Thomas mesmerised. He couldn't keep his eyes off him. Even though they would never be anything more than friends, Thomas still harboured feelings for the attractive young footman. By day their duties in the great house brought them together, mealtimes brought them to the same table and evenings were often spent playing cards and smoking. But by night, in Thomas dreams, they were lovers. He dreamed of Jimmy, fantasized about him, envisaged every inch of his soft, smooth skin and imagined all the things he would like to do to it.

As he watched, Mr. Carson came over to Jimmy and spoke to him. It looked like Jimmy was being reprimanded. Probably trying to charm one of the female guests, Thomas thought with a wry smile. That boy was an outrageous flirt. He could flash his dazzling smile or blink his hypnotizing eyes at you and put your under his spell without ever saying a word. Something that Thomas knew only too well. Even if Miss O'Brien hadn't been malicious in her encouragement, Thomas knew he would have fallen for Jimmy anyway.

XxX

It was well after midnight when Jimmy finally dragged himself up the stairs to bed. He was exhausted, his legs and feet aching from being on them all day. As he reached his room, he looked along the corridor and noticed that Thomas' door was open. He walked down to it and leaned against the doorframe.

"Did you miss me?" he asked with a mischievous smile.

Thomas looked up from his bed where he was reading and felt a flutter in his chest.

"Of course I did, I even brought you back a present,"

"Let's have it then," Jimmy said. "I'm bushed after today and my feet are killing me, I want to go to bed."

He stood in the doorway watching as Thomas swung his legs off the bed and walked over to the pair of armchairs by the fireplace. The room was small and it only took him three steps to get there. He wore a pair of navy blue pyjamas with thin white piping around the edge which Jimmy didn't think he'd seen before. He wondered if Thomas had got them in America.

"Come in and close the door," Thomas said.

"Is that wise Mr. Barrow?"

Thomas said nothing as he reached into a travel bag that was on the floor next to the chair and pulled out a bottle of dark brown liquor. Jimmy didn't need any more of an invitation; he closed the door behind him, sat down in the chair opposite Thomas and took the bottle from him.

"Where'd you get this?" he asked, reading the word 'Bourbon'on the label."I thought there was a prohibition on over there? His Lordship was complaining that he hadn't had a legal drink in all the time he was there. You should have seen him suck down that first gin and tonic I brought him, like his life depended on it. Have you got any glasses?"

Thomas winked at him and fetched two glasses from the bottom drawer of his dresser. Jimmy unscrewed the cap and poured a generous amount into each. Thomas sat down, they clinked their glasses and swallowed their drinks in one gulp.

"Bloody hell!" Jimmy wheezed as the dark amber liquid hit the back of his throat and seared its way into his stomach.

Thomas laughed and held out his empty glass. Jimmy poured another shot for each of them, smaller this time. He accepted the cigarette Thomas offered and leaned forward to allow him to light it. Taking a deep drag he settled in the chair, resting his head against the back of it and closed his eyes.

Thomas watched him, he looked beautiful. So at ease, his head back, his eyes closed, a drink in one hand and a cigarette clasped between two fingers of the other.

"So how did you find New York?" Jimmy asked without opening his eyes, while he took another drag of his smoke.

Thomas told him about the things he'd seen and the places he'd visited. He hadn't had as much free time as he'd hoped because the Earl had kept him busy but he'd managed to slip away for a few hours each day to explore the city.

"I'm so envious," Jimmy pouted and emptied his glass again.

"Did I miss much here?" Thomas asked.

Jimmy told him about the guests that had stayed, the pigs that had arrived and the Dowager Countess's illness. Then he recounted Ivy's tale of finding Lady Mary and a gentleman, both covered in mud and stinking like a farmyard, eating scrambled eggs in the kitchen at five o'clock in the morning.

"Never!" was all Thomas could say.

Jimmy held out his glass for a refill and Thomas obliged. The colour was rising in the young blond's cheeks as the liquor started to have an effect on him.

"So I gather you're still trying to woo Ivy?" Thomas asked, feeling a bit fuzzy himself.

"Nah," Jimmy waved his hand dismissively. "Waste of time that one."

Thomas studied him as Jimmy sucked a deep lungful of smoke, held it in for a few moments then blew it out again. Jimmy hadn't smoked when he first came to Downton and Thomas wasn't sure why he had started, but he was glad that he had. There was something about a man with a cigarette that turned him on, especially when that man was Jimmy. He liked the way Jimmy held it between his fingers, but what he really loved was the way Jimmy clamped it between his lips and the way his mouth sucked on it. Sometimes Thomas had to look away because all he could think about was how those beautiful, bee-stung lips would feel wrapped around his cock. It was something he would only ever know in his dreams.

His eyes stayed on Jimmy as he balanced his glass on the arm of the chair and pulled his bow-tie loose then he undid the stud that fastened the high collar of his uniform. The material parted to reveal the smooth hollow at the base of this throat. Stretching his legs, toed his shoes off and wriggled his toes inside his socks.

"Feet hurt?" Thomas asked quietly.

"Like the devil," Jimmy replied, flexing his toes and relaxing them. He picked up his glass, drained the remainder of his drink and took another drag of his cigarette.

Thomas eyed him for a second, chewed his bottom lip while he debated the wisdom of what he was about to do, then threw caution to the wind, leaned down, scooped up Jimmy's right foot and brought it to rest in his lap.

Jimmy's head snapped forward and he stared at Thomas as the under-butler's firm fingers began to work their magic on the sole of his foot. It felt so good and Thomas seemed to know just where to press and how hard to do it. Jimmy flopped back in the chair and lifted his other leg, dropping his left foot in Thomas' lap too.

"Do I take it then that you're not courting a nice girl from the village either?" Thomas asked as he pressed his fingers into the arch of Jimmy's feet and massaged up to his toes and back down again.

The last conversation they'd had before Thomas had left with the Earl for America had been in the boot room. Jimmy sat at the end of the table while Thomas packed His Lordship's shoes. Jimmy had said how envious he was and wished he was going. Thomas had teased him, asking if he wouldn't miss Ivy but Jimmy complained that all the attention he'd paid to her had been a waste of money and effort. "I'm sure something's just around the corner," Thomas had said, and Jimmy had snorted with frustration, "well I wish it'd get a move on or I might do something stupid," he'd said. Thomas had chuckled at that and told him, "Well when I get back I want to find you happy and healthy and courting a girl from the village."

It had been one of those comfortable and easy-going conversations that Thomas had become so grateful they were able to share after everything that had happened between them.

Jimmy remembered their words too and thought back to them as he shifted his legs to get more comfortable. Thomas continued to massage his feet.

"No, there's no girl from the village, but I'm healthy and happy if that counts for anything."

"That counts for everything to me," Thomas said softly, and gave Jimmy's foot a gentle squeeze. "And you're not feeling the need to do anything stupid yet?"

"A few more of these," Jimmy said, holding his glass out for a refill. "And keep doing that to my feet and I might seriously consider it."

"Well in that case..." Thomas winked as he picked up the bottle and poured another generous splash into Jimmy's glass.

"What about you?" Jimmy asked. "Any tales to tell of shipboard life? Any handsome deckhands catch your eye?"

Thomas felt himself blush. He would usually have been much more discreet but the alcohol was going to his head and having Jimmy's feet in his lap, his fingers playing with them, made it seem like it was possible to talk about anything.

"He wasn't a deckhand, he was a cabin steward, but yes he caught my eye."

Jimmy sipped his drink and watched Thomas over the rim of the glass. There was a definite rosiness to his cheeks and a playful sparkle in his steel-grey eyes.

"Tell me more," Jimmy said, surprised to find that he was genuinely curious.

"His name was David," Thomas said cautiously. "He was lovely. I don't know if much more will come of it, but we've exchanged addresses so we'll keep in touch."

His feet felt much better so Jimmy pulled them from Thomas' grasp and stood up. His cigarette was almost finished and the only ashtray he could see was on Thomas' bedside table on the other side of the room. He walked unsteadily over to it, stubbed out his cigarette and went back, flopping down in the chair again.

"And? Did you?" he asked curiously.

"Did I what?"

"You know... with him?"

"That would be telling," Thomas winked, but before he could stop himself he said, "Yes."

"Really? Are you serious?"

Thomas smiled and nodded. "Oh yes. And it was fantastic. He was amazing."

"Oh sod off," Jimmy huffed. "It's not fair. I waste God knows how much time and money on a girl who fancies the pants off me and I don't get anywhere. But you just walk on board a ship and you've got them falling at your feet."

"Well, dropping to his knees, more like," Thomas grinned.

The mental image of what Thomas was implying formed in Jimmy's mind. It was instantaneous and vivid. But what really shocked him was the little pang of jealously he felt.

"Now I am ready to do something stupid, I'm that envious of you," he pouted.

"Careful, I might take you seriously," Thomas laughed.

Jimmy sat up straight, pulled himself to the edge of the chair so their knees almost touched. He looked Thomas straight in the eye, and in a quiet, breathy voice, said, "I am serious."