This is for the brilliant chelsie-carson (HogwartsDuo here in FFN) who never fails to brighten the day with lovely Jim/Phyllis/Chelsie posts :) Merry Christmas to you & I hope you enjoy this one-shot based on the latest excitement in the fandom.

When Elsie Hughes walked into her sitting room in the early hours of Christmas Day she immediately spotted the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the room. She shook her head and sighed, but couldn't stop an amused smile from spreading across her face. Countless times she had asked the cook not to decorate the entire downstairs area with mistletoe, but Beryl Patmore had shown no mercy. In every room, in every hallway a small spray of mistletoe could be found, preferably placed somewhere where it would only be spotted when it was already too late to avoid it.

"What do you hope to achieve with that?", Mrs. Hughes had asked her only yesterday.

"Nothing much", the cook had replied and Mrs. Hughes could have sworn there had been a mischievous twinkle in her friend's eyes. "Maybe it helps everyone to get in the right mood for the festivities."

Mrs. Hughes had then and there given up all hope of getting a proper explanation. Until now she was rather surprised that Mr. Carson had not interfered. Usually he highly disapproved of the mistletoe tradition and only allowed some of it to be hanged in plain view in the servant's hall. Now, most of the servants hurried through the hallways in wiggly lines to escape any sort of kissing. Mrs. Hughes found it in a very heartwarming way funny to see what effect Mrs. Patmore's actions had. She had never seen any need to act in earnest, so she had leant back and waited for Mr. Carson to storm into the kitchen to put an end to it, but he never had done so. Not even when some mistletoe appeared mysteriously on the ceiling in his pantry. It didn't bother him. Mrs. Hughes wondered what had changed his opinion after all these years, but being busy to prepare the house for Christmas she didn't find the time to ask him about it.

Now she closed the door behind her and walked over to her desk to retrieve the last unwrapped present. It was the one for Mr. Carson which he would receive late this evening. She had bought him a new pair of cufflinks and a rather fancy handkerchief with his initials. Sitting at the small table opposite the door she started cutting gift wrapping paper. Lost in thought she heard the knock almost too late and only just managed to cover the present. "Shut your eyes!", she demanded, knowing it was the butler before she turned towards him. She bit her bottom lip not to start laughing when he covered his eyes and turned towards the door. "Sorry, I'll come back later", he mumbled.

"I should think it is safe to turn around now", she assured him. "What was it you wanted?"

Carefully he moved to face her. "I only wanted to… That is… Ehem… Will we meet this evening for a glass of sherry?"

Mrs. Hughes raised her eyebrows. "Of course, why ever shouldn't we? It has become quite a habit over these past years. Although", she added and watched him tense a little. "Mrs. Patmore has promised to save me a bit of the Christmas punch. I'd be glad to share it with you. Come to my sitting room when you have finished upstairs?"

He quietly let out the breath he had been holding. Mrs. Hughes couldn't help but wonder if he was up to something. "I'm looking forward to it", he said. She gave him a warm smile, turning her attention to the present. He was still there, gazing at her hands that lay atop of his Christmas gift. "Mr. Carson?"

"Right, sorry", he said, shaking his head as if to get rid of a certain thought and left in a hurry. Mrs. Hughes wrinkled her nose and shook her head. Sometimes that man was a riddle to her.

After her short conversation with Mr. Carson she had quickly finished with wrapping his present and had put it back in the top drawer of her desk. She then had taken care of the menus for the week after Christmas and seen over the arrangements for the New Year's celebration. Nothing was out of the ordinary on her rounds before luncheon and whatever had influenced Mr. Carson's behaviour earlier seemed to have passed. While they were enjoying their meal he chatted about this and that, but mostly about household matters, as usual. She hardly saw him for the rest of the day. They rushed a little through dinner during which he spoke quite enthusiastically about how well the cottage looked now after Mr. Branson had seen to it being renovated. Mrs. Hughes had agreed, wondering if Mrs. Patmore had put something in his porridge that made him change topics so quickly. There was no time to investigate on the matter. Lady Mary was to sing on the Christmas party and the entire staff had been invited. Mrs. Hughes was the last one downstairs or so she thought. Before she reached the stairs she felt a familiar presence. She turned around and saw him standing in the hallway next to the kitchen doors. "Mr. Carson, we ought to get upstairs. We're already late."

She watched how he cleared his throat and tucked at his waistcoat. "Quite right", he answered, with a hint of uncertainty in his voice. He took a few steps towards her before he stopped again. "What has gotten into you today?", she asked kindly.

"Nothing, what do you mean?", he replied, the way his voice went up proofing that she was right to ask for he was hiding something.

Mrs. Hughes closed the distance between them. "You do know that you are a terrible liar, don't you?", she remarked softly.

"I suppose." His eyes went up, remaining at the ceiling. Mrs. Hughes spotted the mistletoe. Surely he wasn't thinking to… Her gaze met his and she was sort of shocked to see him looking at her so intensely. He swallowed hard. "May I?" His voice was nothing more than a whisper. He seemed nervous to no end at his own request.

"What? Yes… Wh…?", Mrs. Hughes spluttered, but was cut short when he carefully closed the space between them. It took her all her strength not to drop to the floor in surprise. His aftershave suddenly surrounded her entirely while he leaned in. She forgot to breathe when his lips touched her cheek ever so lightly. Closing her eyes for a second when he retreated she found him studying her face when she opened them again. Mrs. Hughes could feel how fiercely she was blushing. Her heart was hammering in her chest, ringing in her ears, it was a wonder he couldn't hear it. He kept catching her off guard. His flirting, asking her to buy a cottage, kissing her under the mistletoe. It was all new and never had she thought it possible over a year ago, before he had accepted her hand at the beach in Brighton. Now everything was different, but it wasn't her doing anymore. It was his. "We really ought to go upstairs", she stammered, frustrated with herself that she couldn't think of anything else to say. Luckily he didn't seem to mind. He let her lead the way, like he had done often in the past.

During the short concert she stood far away from Mr. Carson only once catching his gaze. He smiled at her and she automatically returned the smile. She lost him out of sight when everyone moved towards the stairs to get back to the servant's hall to continue the celebrations apart from the family. They had already started singing a few Christmas Carols when his deep baritone joined them. She was glad to have him at her side every year while the staff was gathered around their small Christmas tree, holding onto the last moments of Christmas Day. It was one of the rare occasions where they were less butler and housekeeper in the company of the staff. When it was time for bed, Mrs. Hughes followed Mrs. Patmore to the kitchen to get the punch for Mr. Carson and herself while the butler shooed the young ones to their rooms. She bid the cook goodnight and retreated to her sitting room where she prepared the drinks.

Mr. Carson made sure the young ones got to bed, not necessarily because they wouldn't have been allowed to stay awake any longer, but because he needed peace downstairs and wanted to make sure no one would disturb his meeting with Mrs. Hughes. He knew she was already waiting for him in her sitting room, but he wasn't quite ready to face her yet. He was aware that he had behaved oddly all day and she certainly hadn't forgotten the kiss he had given her. In that moment he had felt happy, even proud that he could fluster her like that. Now all that was left was uncertainty. He couldn't quite put her reaction in place, although it reminded him of the one she had given him when he had asked her to buy a cottage with him. Then everything had gone well. Why on earth was he so unsure now? Maybe because what he intended to do would lead further than buying property together. And maybe because he wasn't sure if she would agree this time. Mr. Carson could hear that Mrs. Patmore was still in the kitchen. It sounded like she was doing some late night cleaning. Tiptoeing to the door to make sure Mrs. Hughes didn't hear him, he caught the cook off guard and almost made her drop the plate she had just wanted to put back in the cupboard. "You ought to leave that for tomorrow", he pointed out.

She sighed. "You are right. I don't really know why I'm still down here."

He smiled kindly at her and spotted the tiny leftovers of the punch she prepared every year. Feeling her gaze on him he walked over and filled half a cup. Before he had the chance to swallow it, the cook put her hands on her hips and shook her head in disapproval. "Might I ask what exactly you think you're doing? As far as I know Mrs. Hughes is waiting for you with some punch."

He emptied the cup. "I know, but I am going to do something that requires more courage than I can muster or so I think", he said more to himself than to her, while his mind was racing.

The cook frowned in confusion, before it dawned on her and her eyes widened. "Oh my god!"; she exclaimed, both shocked and thrilled.

Mr. Carson shot her a warning look, glancing to the door of the sitting room.

"Oh my god", the cook whispered. She gave him a broad grin before she left. Mr. Carson shook his head. Mrs. Patmore was impossible at times, but he was far too grateful for the opportunities her actions had given him to be angry with her. Taking one deep breath, he walked towards the door of Mrs. Hughes's sitting room.

Mrs. Hughes had just set the gift for him on her desk when Mr. Carson joined her, closing the door slowly, almost thoughtfully behind him.

"You still haven't told me what you were up to all day", she remarked, holding a glass of punch out to him.

He faced her, his dark brown eyes full with emotion. Again he tucked at his waistcoat, seeming to be nervous to no end. "I don't think I should", he replied hastily.

"Go on, it's Christmas", she encouraged him. He still wouldn't accept the glass.

"I have done some thinking about life in retirement", he admitted slowly. "And…" He stopped, looking deeply into her eyes as if he was looking for something. She hoped whatever he wanted to see was there. He was in need of reassurance, looking lost, but also determined. "I'd like to spend it with you."

Her hands were shaking, grabbing the glasses tighter to hide it while her love for him took over her face and made her look at him in a way that shouldn't leave any doubt within him. She bit her lip before she dared to speak, her voice unsteady. "What do you mean?" Mrs. Hughes wanted to hear the words. Words he had ignored, fought, forgotten for such a long time.

He didn't hesitate to answer. "I'm asking you to marry me." Seeing that the glasses were about to be dropped to the floor he gently took them from her and set them on the table. "Will you say yes?", he whispered ever so softly.

"What else could I answer?", she replied, her eyes filling with tears.

"You could say no", he offered like he wanted her to know that it would be all right if she did. A lie, of course, but her thoughts didn't have to go down that way. Because that was out of the question. "And why would I say no?"

"I'm sure I've given you quite a few reasons over the years", he said, trying to make it sound like a joke, but a little worry wavered with it.

She shook her head, the tears now starting to fall. "You know the only answer I have for you is yes, Charlie Carson." Her hands reached out for him, needing him to steady her. He took them gently in his. "Thank you", he said softly, raising one hand to brush away the tears, but more kept falling. Finally, he gave up and wrapped her up in his arms, letting her cry into his chest. He knew that she had waited for this, knew it somewhere deep inside him. He understood them now, saw things that had happened to them in a different light, from another perspective and it made things much easier and clearer.

Mrs. Hughes calmed quickly in his warm embrace that promised to keep her safe. In the back of her mind was a voice that told her this couldn't be real, but her heart said differently. And how often had her heart won over her mind when it came to him? Now it was him handing her the glass of punch. She had forgotten about it, but now gladly accepted the drink. There was only one thing she had to ask him before she would let proceed the evening as originally planned. "Why now?"

He took her hand much in the same way she had taken his on the beach and looked her straight in the eye. "It's Christmas, Elsie."