From a prompt on Tumblr, anonymous asked: "Love your writing Katina. Drabble request - more Agent Grantham or Matthew is one of Roberts proteges with whom Mary has been in love with forever. He dates many women and one day finally starts to see Mary differently."
This fic is made up of drabbles, so they're a bit shorter than my regular stories. Also, I'm posting four "chapters" at once, because I haven't loaded them here for some reason.
Enjoy!
Part One
"He's…very full of himself," Mary muttered, flipping her hair over her shoulder nonchalantly, as though to tell her sister she couldn't care less about Matthew Crawley. Pft. Sybil gave her a sarcastic smile, resting her head on her chin.
"I dunno, he's sort of cute," she replied, watching Matthew as he laughed with their father's colleagues, probably over some joke he'd just told them. "And I've seen the way you look at him."
"How do I look at him?" Mary questioned indignantly, hoping she wouldn't blush.
"Like you've got stars in your eyes," Sybil said matter-of-factly.
"We've known him for ages—since high school when he first came to work at the company—so who cares about him?"
"Judging by the way you look at him, you do," Sybil replied. "It's too bad he's such a ladies man, huh?"
Mary scoffed. "I don't know what those women see in him. His head's so big, I'm surprised it can fit through the door."
"He can be sweet, you know. Remember when he got you those flowers for your birthday?"
"Only because he drove over my cat. Poor Mr. Waffles. Besides, I don't know why you're bothering defending him. The only way I could care less about Matthew is if I were dead," she said flatly.
"Mmhmm, right," Sybil murmured, finishing her coffee. "Well, see you after work."
Mary sighed, her eyes somehow finding Matthew once Sybil was gone. I don't like him, I don't, she insisted, gazing at him. Just because he's nice to look at, it doesn't mean I like him. He laughed again and Mary sighed again, half-wishing he would come over and talk to her. As though feeling her gaze on him, Matthew turned his head, eyes met, and Mary felt her heart race as he started to move toward her, a small smile on his face.
"Hey, Mary," Matthew said once he reached her table. "Have a nice lunch?"
"It was fine," she replied pertly, wishing her cheeks weren't so red. She tried to cover them up with her hair.
"Mind if I sit?" he asked, motioning to the chair next to hers.
"Whatever you like," Mary murmured finishing her tea.
"It's been a while since we've talked—how've you been?"
She forced the urge to narrow her eyes at him. Matthew Crawley rarely gave her any attention at all, so why was he so interested in speaking to her now?
"Fine," she said, heart giving another start as he smiled. God, that smile did something to Mary. She forced herself not to look too goo-goo eyed, feigning interest in checking her mobile instead.
"You bringing anyone to the Christmas party tonight?" he asked. Something in his tone made her look up.
She did narrow her eyes this time. "Are you making fun of me?"
Matthew raised his eyebrows, a cheerful smile still on his face. "No, no of course not."
Mary thought she heard a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "God, you're hilarious, Matthew. Really witty." She stood, ready to make a getaway. "Just because I came by myself last year—oh, Mary must be perpetually single for a reason!"
"Mary, I wasn't—"
"Why don't you save it for someone who cares, Matthew?"
With that, she stomped off, pulse pounding in her ears and tears of embarrassment burning her eyes.
…
"Come on, Mary, it's already started!"
She rolled her eyes, following Sybil and her boyfriend, Tom, into the ballroom, wishing she could be anywhere else but here.
"Merry Christmas, my dears," their mother greeted them. "Your father's already talking shop…as usual."
Mary glanced over to where her father stood, surrounded by his colleagues, Matthew among them. He met her eyes immediately and she felt herself blush unintentionally, causing her to look away.
"I'm going to get something to drink," she muttered, heading across the room before anyone could respond.
As though wanting to embarrass her further, Matthew appeared at her side, taking her arm to keep her from walking away.
"Mary, I wanted to apologize for earlier," he said, blocking her path.
"Whatever—it's fine," Mary said quickly, trying to extract her arm from Matthew's hand.
He was about to respond, but another voice spoke, "Oh, look, you two are under the mistletoe!"
Both turned and stared at the woman who'd said it before glancing up at the space above them. Mary saw the mistletoe and was tempted to knock it down, as well as issue a swift slap to Matthew's face. But she'd already been embarrassed enough that day. She looked at Matthew and he stared back at her, his expression surprised. She couldn't tell if he looked repulsed or not.
"You have to kiss! It's tradition," the woman said cheerily.
Matthew's brow furrowed and he gazed at her apologetically, as though he thought she'd rather die than kiss him. Then, he leaned forward, his hand still holding her arm, and quickly pressed his lips against hers, Mary too dumbstruck to respond. He chuckled, but she thought this was more for the other spectators that had gathered, rather than for her.
"Excuse me," Mary said suddenly, pulling away and hurrying out of the room, the burning sensation of Matthew's lips still on hers.
She burst out into the garden, grateful the party was on the ground floor. Ignoring the chill in the air, she walked until she reached a fountain, taking a seat on the stone ledge, the concrete practically freezing beneath her dress, but she couldn't stand any longer.
"Mary?"
Her body tensed, her hands balling into fists. God, why couldn't he just leave her alone?
Mary titled her head to look at Matthew, not bothering to smooth the glare on her face. "What do you want?" she spat, getting to her feet even though she felt dizzy from the sight of him.
"You didn't let me apologize," he said, approaching her so quickly Mary felt like she might fall over. "Mary, I'm sorry if you thought I was making fun of you, but I swear I wasn't. I only wanted to know if you were coming with anyone tonight."
She frowned. "And why would you give a shit about that?"
Matthew snorted. "God, Mary, you're infuriating, do you know that? I'm trying to be nice, but you always take everything the wrong way!"
"Really, Matthew, and what is the right way? Falling all over you and simpering? That'll happen when hell freezes over," she retorted and he scoffed. She turned to leave, to find some place where she could be free of him.
"Bloody hell, this isn't how I thought our first kiss would go," he murmured.
She turned on the spot, brow furrowed as she looked at him. "What?"
Combing fingers through his hair, Matthew sighed. "Christ, Mary, do you know how long I've wanted to kiss you? But—"
"But you were too busy kissing other women, I think that's what you mean," she interjected furiously.
He stepped forward, carefully, as though he thought she would bolt again. "Do you know how long I've had a crush on you? Since I first joined the company, but you were just a kid—"
"I was sixteen," she said defensively. "I think that's hardly—"
"I was twenty-one, Mary," Matthew said, "you were a kid. A beautiful, silly girl."
"Well, thanks for clearing that up," Mary spoke tersely, her mind in a haze from his declaration. "In case you hadn't noticed, ten years have passed and I'm not a little girl anymore."
"It would hardly be the truth if I said I hadn't," he murmured, his voice soft in spite of her biting tone. "But I sort of ruined every chance I ever had with you by running over that mangy cat on your eighteenth birthday, didn't I?"
"Mr. Waffles was not mangy," Mary breathed, heart pounding in her ears and Matthew chuckled.
"I'm still sorry about that," he said, reaching his hand out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Mary swallowed hard, the place his fingers had gazed against her skin feeling as though it were on fire.
"Well, I suppose he did have it coming, napping under the back tire," she whispered, biting her bottom lip as Matthew rested his hand on her cheek, a smile on his face.
"Whatever you say," he murmured, his thumb caressing her cheek. "Are you cold?"
"I-I'm fine," she said, voice shaking.
"Here," Matthew said, slipping out of his suit jacket before draping it over Mary's shoulders. "Better?"
She inhaled slowly, nodding as she was wrapped in fabric that still radiated the warmth of his body. It smelled like him, a mixture of cologne and a scent that was so distinctly Matthew she could hardly think straight.
"How…how did you think our first kiss would go?" she voiced finally.
His smile widened. "Well, not egged on by strangers, for a start. And certainly not after pissing you off."
"It's not that difficult to do—just ask my sisters," she replied, inciting another chuckle from Matthew.
"You certainly have spirit," he said. "Which was one of the things I noticed first about you."
"Really? I'm not surprised it didn't make you hate me, I've been told I can be a bit intimidating."
"Perhaps at first, but then again you were still so young. I knew I had no right to have such thoughts about my boss's daughter, no matter how beautiful I found her."
Mary swallowed again. "How do you still keep saying all the right things, Matthew?"
"I've had ten years to rehearse it," he whispered, laying his free hand lightly on the waist of her dress, fingers caressing the fabric as he moved closer, the heat from his body finally reaching hers. "One can only hope practice has made perfect."
"We'll see," she breathed, looking up into his face, his ridiculous half-smile at her invitation causing her heart to skip a few beats.
He leaned down, bringing his lips to hers more slowly than before, his kisses lingering for much longer as his hands held her close, trailing down to rest on her hip. Warmth spread through her body in spite of the cold, heat radiating from every touch.
"So?" he asked, pulling away at long last, but not going far, his nose resting against hers.
"Not bad," she exhaled, hardly able to string even such a simple sentence together. "Definite potential."
Matthew chuckled, his hand resting against the back of her neck. Mary shivered from his touch rather than the cold, but he frowned. "I should get you inside. It's too cold out here."
"No, please," she insisted, clasping her fingers around his wrist. "I'm fine as long as i'm with you."
He smiled. "God, I never thought those words would come out of your mouth," he teased.
"Well, I'm full of surprises," Mary murmured, hooking her arms around his neck. "I think I'm in love with you."
Matthew stared at her for a moment, eyes widening slightly. "Oh, my God."
Mary blushed, tears immediately filling her eyes. She turned away, regretting her own stupidity. "Sorry," she muttered, heading back inside although she didn't really want to, Matthew's jacket still over her shoulders.
"Wait, please," Matthew said, catching up to her quickly, his fingers grabbing her wrist and pulling her back to him. "Mary, you…love me?"
She shrugged, avoiding his gaze. Why did she have to be so stupid, ruining a perfectly good moment with feelings?
"Do you know how many times I wished I could say that to you?" he asked, the urgency in his voice drawing her eyes to his. "God, I'm so in love with you, Mary."
"But all those other women—" she began slowly.
"None of them mattered at all. Not one bit. I was just trying to distract myself from not being able to have you—not being able to love you. Holy shit, I've been in love with you for years, but I thought you hated me."
She scoffed. "I wish I had. Maybe seeing you with so many women would have hurt less."
"Damn, I'm such a fool," he murmured, his fingertips touching her face again. "I never stopped thinking about you, Mary. Forgive me?"
She took a deep breath before kissing him hard, forcing his lips apart with her tongue as her hands tugged on his hair.
"Is that a yes?" he breathed, leaning his forehead against hers.
"If you like," she replied before kissing him again, wondering why it had taken them so long to truly see one another.
Thoughts?