Practice Makes Perfect

Only when in a very good mood did John whistle.

Because John was a quiet, stoic and reserved man by nature, it had been years before anybody at Downton, including his future wife, had heard him whistle. Then again, when he had first come to Downton, his past and circumstances left little reason for him to whistle. However, in the past two years, John had found plenty of reasons and plenty of occasions to whistle, to the point where his wife would tease him with a new nickname: Mr. Robin.

Today in particular was a good day to whistle, thought the weather could have been better. Dark clouds overhead seemed ready to burst open with cold, November rain at any moment, but John didn't mind. One would think it was blue skies and sun in June by watching him walk merrily across the estate to his cottage, even with his slight limp and cane. For John, it was: the best part of his half-day had just commenced.

He'd politely declined having luncheon with the other staff downstairs, wanting to get to his cottage as quickly as possible. He would not be needed at Downton again today, and John was eager to be with his family.

His whistling stopped as he walked up the front path. He did not want to interrupt the lovely sounds he was sure to hear when he entered into the cottage where his two girls were. Sure enough, when he softly opened the door, he heard them both: from the kitchen came the sound of his wife, Anna, absently humming; and from the adjacent parlor, he heard the coos and gurgles of their baby daughter, Fiona.

After hanging up his hat and coat, he set his cane by the front door; he didn't use it around their little cottage. He let his footsteps announce his presence as he walked into the parlor. Anna turned from the stove, where she was making tea, and her face erupted into a smile. John smiled back, drinking in the sight of her. She did not wear her black lady's maid uniform but a simple and comfortable day dress of warm, green fabric. An apron was tied around her waist, and her beautiful hair was prettily plaited down her back.

Close to her, on a rug in the parlor, their daughter gave a loud coo to get her Papa's attention and succeeded. Six-month-old Fiona lay on her belly, her limbs waving frantically and happily. Her head was covered with light blond hair, soft as feathers to the touch; her big, hazel eyes stared up at her father. Stopping in front of his daughter, John bent down and rubbed her head with his hand. He didn't trust himself to crouch down without his cane. Fiona babbled happily at the contact.

"Hello, mo cuishle," he murmured to her lovingly.

Straightening up, he walked to Anna, who had turned her attentions back to the kettle for the water reached the boiling point. Once she'd set the kettle back down safely, John wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and kissed her cheek. "Hello, wife."

Anna smile and leaned back against him. "It's good to have you home," she murmured. "And I'm glad you beat the rain." Both looked out the kitchen window, for drops were beginning to patter against the glass.

John nodded. "I'm glad I won't have to go back today."

"So are we," said Anna, resting her head back on John's shoulder and covering his hands with her own. They turned to look at the proof of their love, who was still cooing and babbling to herself happily, even as her limbs waved around determinedly.

John had to chuckle at such a sight. But when Fiona started to make struggling sounds as her little hands tried to push herself up, John asked, "Should I get her?"

But Anna chuckled and shook her head. "No, she's not asking for that. If ever I need to put her down, she loves being on her tummy. As happy as a clam, in fact. I think she's determined to teach herself to crawl, and stubbornly without help." She looked up at him with a twinkle in her eyes. "Where do you suppose she gets that from?" she asked innocently, but her eyes showed her teasing motive.

"Very funny, Mrs. Bates," said John, who immediately leaned down and kissed her lips softly, making sure to leave her wanting more when he pulled away all too quickly.

"Silly beggar," she muttered, smiling. "Why don't you finish your paper? Luncheon won't be ready for a few minutes more."

John nodded, caressing her waist before moving away from her. Fiona cooed happily again as John sat himself down in his comfortable chair by the fireplace, picking up the paper Anna had put there and opening it. He smiled at his daughter, who was watching him with his eyes with a big smile, happy coos, and flailing limbs.

He settled down to his paper, but peaked over the top of the paper occasionally to make a silly face for his baby, making her laugh. Her movements never stilled. Soon, John found himself engrossed in one particular story about some goings on in Dublin, so didn't peak over to see his daughter until he'd finished.

But once he did, he was surprised to see the rug where she'd been lying bare. Immediately moving his eyes to Anna in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches to their luncheon, he saw that his wife did not have her.

Worry and panic began to rise in him, but it only lasted two seconds. For then, he felt something tugging at one of his pant legs, along with a happy coo that came from very nearby. Setting his paper down and looking down, John saw his little Fiona, on her hands and knees holding his pant legs, smiling with triumph at him.

John's face broke into a wide, toothy grin, which for him was a rarity. Reaching out, he picked his baby girl up and set her on his lap facing him. "Well done, mo cuishle," he murmured, letting her grab both of his forefingers. "Not even a year old, and you're faster than me already!"

Fiona's happy babble gave way to a laugh when John tickled her tummy. Her arms reached out to him, and John gladly rested her against his chest, his hands holding his baby to his chest for an embrace. "I'm so proud of you," he murmured.

A few moments later, Anna approached from the kitchen and smiled at the sight of the two of them. "Luncheon is ready. You've gotten quieter; I didn't even hear you get up and get her."

Realizing that she hadn't noticed what had happened, John gave her a beaming smile that made him look twenty years younger. "I didn't."

Anna gave him a look of confusion.

He turned Fiona around on his lap, and she gave a happy, loud coo at the sight of her mother. "Go and see your Mama." Then John carefully placed Fiona back on the floor, on her tummy. It took a moment, but Fiona got herself on all fours again. Anna gasped and covered her mouth as her daughter began to crawl slowly but surely towards her. Tears filled her eyes as she crouched down, stretching out her arms to her baby girl. John's smile did not fade from his face as he watched.

Fiona completed her journey, and Anna swept the baby up in her arms, raising her above her head. Fiona laughed in triumph and pleasure at her accomplishment. "Oh, my darling, you did it!" she said, bringing Fiona down to cuddle her on her shoulder. Anna kissed her head and blinked back her tears, breathing in the baby's scent.

John's own eyes filled as he got up from his chair and approached his girls. He wrapped his arms around them, kissing Fiona's head and then Anna's lips.

Holding his two angels in his arms, John knew he was a very lucky man indeed.

A/N: After my last one-shot, I just couldn't be content with only one Fiona fic. This one-shot was inspired by a baby girl I babysit. She is six months, and is never so happy as when she's on her tummy and trying to crawl. It's the definition of adorable, and since baby Fiona wouldn't be anything but, how could I resist? Please review this and my multi-chapter fic too!