I own nothing- sorry, this chapter is unedited!
"Sybil, darling!" Cried Cora, swooping down the grand staircase of Downton Abbey, and trapping her youngest daughter in a hug worthy of Rubeus Hagrid, in terms of bone crushing… ness?
"Sybil!" Her father added, leaping into the foray of hugging.
"Ack! Papa!"
"Oh, how are you, how have you been?" Her mother began, before continuing in one long breath. "Are you alright for money? How is university? Are your courses going well? How is Tom, are you two going well? Are the others all right? What are Daisy's thoughts on the planning, is she content with the arrangements? And what of the dresses? Oh, do they look so beautiful? How about William? Is he nervous?"
"Mama!" Clam down, you'll over exert yourself!"
"Your mother has had many years of practice in that particular field- she can talk for hours on end." Robert jested, wrapping an arm around his now scowling wife. "Though it is never, ever entirely unsolicited." Robert cooed, bowing his head to reach her lips.
"Urgh, PDA." Sybil interrupted pointedly. Robert's face gained a small smile, and Cora looked as though she'd very much like to break into a fit of giggles.
"You haven't changed since you were a child, in some ways."
"Have too!" She replied, pointedly employing a childish demeanor, and poking out her tongue.
"So, no Tom?" Cora enquired. Sybil pouted, and shook her head.
"No, I'm afraid not." She replied sadly.
At the same time, Cora grimaced in disappointment, and Robert broke out into the creepiest grin Sybil had ever seen. "No need to look so happy." She informed her father playfully, though the underlying note of seriousness hung in the air.
"Too soon in the relationship?" Cora guessed, sympathetically, not picking up on the true depth of the exchange.
"It's not too soon until it becomes 'I love you'." Robert interjected conversationally. The ancient hall seemed bigger and more awkwardly empty than it actually was.
"Well, in that case it's not too soon," Sybil replied, and before her parent's astounded faces could utter any other words, she continued vociferously, "though Sarah's taken a few days of celibacy, so it's pretty much safe for him to spend the six to ten thirty period at home."
Her mother now looked worried, and her father extremely flustered.
"Sarah's lovely, though." Sybil continued hurriedly, sensing that she'd put her foot it to some extremities. "Well, not lovely, she's just- she's really cool- not cool- nice person- no- she's a good person, she can be very nice, only she's younger than me, a few years, and quite taken with the 'wild life', so to speak- oh goodness, I've gone into word vomit mode."
Both of her parents grinned nervously.
"She's named after Sarah Jane Smith."
"Oh, I see!" They replied in unison, nodding in approval.
Amazing what a fandom can do.
"Well, I'm going to go upstairs and… unpack. I'll be back down shortly." And with that she shot upstairs, past both of her parents, and was on the second floor landing before they could even blink.
"Tom, I stuffed up already." She informed his brand new voicemail. "I may or may not have blurted your sister's escapades to my parents, but they think she's cool because of her namesake."
She heard a familiar mock-war cry, and crossed worriedly to the widow, wrenching back the thick sheers, and saw William and Daisy's rental car, with a familiar blonde head poking out of the window. Christmas at Downton- all of the three girls' friends and partners, and partners of friends were invited every year, without fail. This year, however, Sybil's parents were jetting out to Paris on Christmas morning at four (yes, four. On Christmas? Eugh), so Christmas eve's dinner was grander than usual, though Martha simply refused to set so much as a diamond encrusted foot (well, figuratively anyway) outside of New York- much to Granny's delight, while Cora's best friend from university and her little accomplice were spending their Christmas in the antipodes (Sarah and Thomas were very choosy, apparently the prospect of undercooked prawns on the barbeque was much more tempting than that of an English manor house in the snow), and of this, Granny could not be more delighted. Unfortunately, however, this year, Edith and Anthony had favoured a holiday in Italy.
"Daisy and William are here- hopefully he'll embarrass himself some more and they'll forget about Sarah and Jeff's persistent yodelling contests." She dropped the curtains, and turned back to the room, and took a few paces away from the window. "Well, I'd better go- I'll talk to you later." She paused again and smiled boldly. "I love you, baby. I'll never get used to saying that!" She cried, with an excited squeal. "I love saying that! I love telling you that I love you- is that a double negative? No, it's happy. It must be a double positive. I sound like a teenager, don't I? Oh well. I love you!"
She hung up, and tossed her phone on her Downton bed. She quickly surveyed her reflection in the mirror, and fixed her train hair (the slightly less terrifying equivalent of bed hair) with her fingers, and turned sideways to observe her profile- dark blue denim jeans, tucked into calf high black leather boots, a baby doll bodice blouse printed in varying shades of reds, and pinks on a white background, under a navy blue blazer. Nice and respectable for home, and still herself.
She flew down the stairs, eager to say hello, slipped on the bottom one, tumbled onto the enormous first landing, thankfully unharmed.
"Oh, it's Sybil." Daisy's voice remarked drily, and Sybil, from her position spread-eagled on the landing, replied,
"Or you could see if I'm alright. But nah, just go with the comic retort- oh! A penny!" She cried happily- the angle of her head provided her with the perfect vision of the aforementioned coin jammed in the nostril of the weeping couple.
"Penny?" William cried literally diving over the banister, and sprawling on the ground beside her. "Where?" He enquired eagerly.
"Where's this penny?" Her mother enquired curiously, wandering up the stairs, and hunkering down on the ground beside William, and squinting as to where she was looking.
"Where? I can't see."
"There- in the nose." Sybil said, pointing.
"Awwwh!" Cora cried, in a most un lady like fashion, "that's so gross!"
"There's a penny?" Daisy asked, manoeuvring her way across the landing, and delicately plopping herself down between Sybil and William. "Wow!" She whispered. "I wonder how old it is!"
"Milady?" Came the rumbling voice of the family's butler, Mr Carson. A long life of Carsons (all of whom had been named Charles- an original piece of art on the parent's side) since the late 1890s had ruled the servant's world of Downton Abbey- through thick and thin, the butler, Charles Carson, with enormous ears, gargantuan noses, and the posture of a steel lamp post. "May I enquire as to why this instance is occurring?"
"There's a penny up this statue's nose!" William supplied happily, pointing (moving his arm so vigorously, and succeeding in whacking his beloved in the ear) to the offending coin. Mr Carson's face blanched, and he hurried to the statue, inspecting it. He let out an involuntary cry of shock, and turned to Robert, who was coming up the stairs.
"I do beg your pardon, milord. This has apparently missed our cleaning-"
"Don't fret, Carson." Robert interrupted, with a wave of his hand, before squatting down behind Sybil's head, and gazing up in wonder at the sight of a coin jammed within the confines of an antique- relic, really, marble statue.
"What's going on here?" Anna's familiar voice enquired, from somewhere in the hall, and after a moment, she joined Cora on the floor.
"Ah, Bates, Anna." Robert greeted joyfully. "There's a penny in the statue's nose!" He added cheerfully.
"A penny in a statue's nose?" The voice of the housekeeper, Mrs Hughes, a kindly old Scottish woman with a large heart, and vast loyalty, from across the hall.
And then, Mr Carson reached out to try and remove it-
"NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!" Bellowed everybody who had congregated on the landing, more or less on top of Sybil.
"Leave it where it is." Robert instructed, and then, in his Dad slang way: "It's pretty cool!" Mr Carson appeared perplexed, but pedalled back from the ornament anyway.
"But don't you want to know how old it is?" Asked William. A hush fell over the staircase as they considered this.
"I can't believe that I never noticed this before!" Cora exclaimed conversationally to Anna, who replied wholeheartedly, as Sybil came down the stairs.
"I still can't tell- it's too dark." Robert announced, from his place before the statue, magnifying glass in hand, studying the intricate patters of an old coin.
"Here- book light." Sybil offered, switching the LED, and holding it up to the nostril so to cast light on the situation.
Literally.
"Ack!" Robert cried, straightening up and blinking rapidly. "Did you have to shine it in my eyes?"
"Sorry, Papa!"
"Here, I'll try." William offered, taking the magnifying glass from Robert, and lifting it to the nose. After a moment of silence:
"You're not looking at the penny, are you Will?" Sybil asked.
"No, I am not."
"Statues don't have… boogers, William!"
"Well I want to check anyway!"
"That's really gross! You are such a boy!"
"There's a reason for that!"
"Oh, it's nice to know that it's all there."
"Sybil!" Cora reprimanded, though failing entirely to hide her smile.
"Hey- I think I see something!" William exclaimed, and Sybil found herself caught up in the immediate crush as the others pressed forwards in excitement. "Wait- no, that's just gum."
"Is he still obsessing over the bodily fluids of a statue?" Mary enquired, as she strutted gracefully from the drawing room, one hand on her pearls (she and Matthew had arrived some time after the discovery of the penny- her husband was the one currently responsible for the position of Sybil's face: squashed against John's back), and not even waiting for a reply, crossed to the front doors and vanished.
William's finger disappeared up the nose to poke the mysterious substance, resulting in a resounding "Ew," though after some wiggling around, the worrying sound of stone grating against stone echoed out through the hall. This seemed to be some kind of cue for everybody to take a step back, though Sybil had obviously missed that memo, sprawling backwards over Matthew.
"Oof!" Matthew muttered in surprise, and with the effort of hoisting her back to her feet- her balance had promptly flung its self out of a window, leaving her alone, save for the company provided by her flailing limbs. "How does Tom do this every bloody day?"
"Not on weekdays! Then I'm at uni."
"Oh?"
"… Well, then I just fall."
"Right."
"I think we should leave the statue." Anna announced, in her motherly fashion, hoarding everybody down the stairs (with Cora's assistance), this being conducted in complete silence until the faintest of metallic tingles as the penny bounced off the smooth marble surface of the figure, and the dull thud as it landed on the rich, ancient carpet.
William dived on it- quite literally.
"1912!" He shouted victoriously, eliciting a cheer from the group.
Until the nose dropped off the statue's face, landing a mere hair's breadth from William's head, at which point he screamed at an extremely high pitch, and suddenly he'd leapt into Daisy's arms, his own fastening around her neck in a grip of steel, his tiny fiancée staggering dangerously under his weight. The statues are after me!"
The Doctor Who reference was lost on nobody- indicating that (for everybody's piece of mind), a sheet adorned the statue like a veil.
"Now," Robert repeated, from his position on a chaise lounge in the centre of the hall. "If the sheet moves, we clobber the thing." Here he jiggled the metal baseball bat in his hand.
"What should Mrs Hughes do about dinner?" Mr Carson enquired, tactfully ignoring the fact that Mrs Hughes (a devoted Whovian since '79) was edging further and further around Downton's magnificent Christmas tree.
"We'll eat in here." Mary supplied. "We can find a trestle table-"
"That'll leave us exposed." William supplied. "We need more cover."
"More cover? It's a statue!" Mr Carson burst out, very much before he could stop himself. His face was a very dark shade of crimson, and a vein was throbbing in his temple. Behind Sybil, from her perch on the floor, William gripped onto her upper arms, and positioned himself behind her.
"William!" Sybil admonished. "Why aren't you looking at it? You're on watching duty! How would you like it if we all got killed by the thing, because you didn't watch it?"
"My eyeballs are drying out!"
"What, may I ask, is going on?" Came Granny's terse tones from the doorway.
"Granny! It's the weeping angels, Granny!"
"What?" She enquired, with a demeanour of false patience.
"They've all gone mad, milady." Mr Carson murmured sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
"No, Carson. They have not- we crossed that bridge years ago." Granny assured, leaning heavily on her cane.
Sybil's phone rang. The trill startled the party, who jumped slightly- averting their eyes from the statue.
"LOOK AT IT!" Sybil cried, not shifting her own gaze, as she fumbled blindly for her phone.
"Hello?" She enquired, still not averting her gaze from the statue.
"No, no, don't be afraid. Let us only pray that the Doctor will arrive in time." She heard Granny reassuring Daisy in the background.
"Sybil!" Tom's Irish lilt was woven with relief.
"What's wrong?" She asked, clapping a hand to her cheek.
"Jeff's stuffing my sister's stocking." He confided miserably.
"Oh, you poor thing!" She cried. "What happened to those ear plugs?"
"I think they've been involved in the process."
"Ew! Where would they… oh, yuck."
"What are you going to do?"
"I've tried taking a walk in the park. But that can only take so long, but I got cold, and apparently sitting by the playground made me 'creepy'."
She made a sympathetic noise in response.
"And I lost feeling in my nose."
"Not your nose! I love your nose!"
"I tried having a drink in the pub, but an old truckie grabbed me and used my shoulder as a Kleenex, and Alfred, Kieran, Jimmy, David, my John, Arthur, Noel, other David and Rob are all role playing."
"Role playing?"
"Dungeons and dragons."
"…They're into that sort of thing?"
"Kieran's really good at the voices."
"Oh-kay."
"So, after that rather entertaining recount of my needy and sad Christmas eve, can I ask if that offer to sped Christmas with you is still open?"
"Of course it is! Can you get a train?"
"Oh, good God." Robert muttered, looking at her mournfully.
"Papa!" Sybil admonished. "Bonding time with the sister's… fallen through!"
"Had a hole drilled in the middle." Tom murmured into the receiver. "There's a train due to arrive at three."
"We'll see you then, love- I'll come and meet you."
"You don't have to-"
"Yes I do, otherwise your nose might drop off, and then-"
"DON'T TALK ABOUT NOSES DROPPING OFF!" William bellowed in Sybil's ear, causing her to scream and slip off her own balls of her feet, and crash painfully sideways into an unoccupied chair.
"Sounds like you need me there." Tom said with a chuckle. "I'll see you at three, love."
"Alright. I love you!"
"I love you too."
She hung up, and grinned slightly.
"Tom for Christmas?" Robert asked, distaste hidden beneath a veneer of conversational politeness.
"Tom for Christmas?" William asked, grabbing onto Sybil's shoulders from behind, and throwing himself onto her back, his head appearing over her shoulder.
"Yes. Yes he is."
"So suddenly we're good enough?"
"Papa!" She cried. "Don't be so horrid! He tried to spend time with his sister, who he hasn't had a proper conversation with since she was sixteen, but she's ignoring him again!"
"Oh, she's having loud sex with Jeff again?" William enquired sympathetically.
"Yes, and it- how do you know about that?"
"We talk."
"…You do?"
"Yeah. He told me about it the other day when we went for a drink."
"…You did?"
"Yeah! After you gave me concussion!"
"I thought we agreed not to talk about that!"
"Tom's coming?" Cora interrupted, with her creepy motherly grin. "Wonderful! The more the merrier!"
"Thank you, Mama."
William didn't want to stay behind. Sybil had tried, and tried, but he insisted that if all the others got 'zapped into the past like the dishy detective', she'd need an accomplice to help her contact the Doctor, and to help her save the day, and for that she needed somebody grounded and sensible to stop the responsibility overwhelming her (he said, as he tripped over his own feet).
And so, he strapped himself into the passenger seat of her Downton car ("I've seen you drive- and in this instance, you're not."), and they were off.
It was a ten minute drive to the station.
"AND IIIIII-EY-IIIIII-EY, WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOOOOOOUUUUUUUUHOOOOOOUOAWH-"
"WILLIAM, SHUT UP!"
"IIIIIII WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOOOOOUUUUUUUU!"
"PLEASE STOP!"
"YOOOU, MY DAHLIIINNNNG, YOOOUUH, HHMMMMM!"
"HOW CAN YOU SING SO LOUDLY?"
"Don't you like my singing?"
"NO."
"Oh. Really?" He asked, with his best puppy dog pout.
"Yes!"
"Or is it just Whitney?"
"No, it's you!"
"No- it must be Whitney." And then, without further ado:
"BABY, BABY, BABY,
BABY DON'T LEAVE ME!"
"YOU ARE RIDICULOUSLY-"
"OOOOOOOHH, PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME, ALL BAH MAHSEILF!"
"WILLIAM!'
"I FEEL THIS YEAHNIN, BURHNIN, YEAHNIN, DEEP INSIIIIDE ME-"
"FOR GOD'S SAKE!"
"OOOH, DEEEP INSIIIIDE ME-"
"WILLIAM, PLEASE STOP SINGING!"
"Okay then- why didn't you just ask?" She glanced incredulously at him.
"Oh, goodness, Will!"
"Can I play with these?"
Not even glancing over, she nodded. Suddenly, she was hit with a blast of cold air. Spluttering, she blinked rapidly, and cast a brief confused look in the direction of the boy like man.
"The vents, Will? Really?" the intensity of the air increased, and she began shivering. And again, it grew stronger, and again, and again, until he hair was fluttering around her face, she squinted, trying to keep her eyes on the road, and prevent her eyeballs from drying out.
"WILLIAM!"
"Ooh! The temperature!"
"No, Will, no! Ackg!" The temperature in the car dropped to something colder than outside (which, considering the snow rushing past the windows, was extremely), and she cried out.
"The fan!"
"NO!" Her hair flew backwards, away from her face, and she screamed.
"WILLIAM TURN IT OFF!"
"We're here!" He announced cheerfully, as she slowed to a stop, and he promptly leaped out of the car.
At least, he might have, had the seat belt not snapped him back onto the seat like a mousetrap.
"YOUR SEAT BELT TRIED TO KILL ME!" He positively screamed, his voice reaching a worryingly high pitch. Sybil didn't respond, trying to beat her scarf away from her face, and turn off the fans.
Tom stepped off the train, and Sybil's happiness level skyrocketed.
"Thank God," She muttered, walking towards him, though a flash of William blocked the Irishman from view.
"TOM!" He bellowed, leaping at the aforementioned mechanic, and wrapping his legs around the elder man's waist. Tom dropped his bag, and stumbled slightly, compensating for the weight.
"Bloody hell, William!" He cried, ignoring the strange looks from passers by. Carefully, Sybil watched as he walked forwards, cautiously feeling around for any obstructions to his path, before coming level with Sybil.
"Hi!" he greeted, "I would kiss you, but…" His blue eyes swivelled down to where William's arm was obstructing his face. The limb's grip tightened, squashing Tom's nose.
"My Tom! All mine!" William announced, with a burst of evil laughter. "Mush!" He cried, pointing in the direction of the car.
"Look William!" Tom shouted, pointing in a distant direction. "It's Judy Dench!"
The manner, in which William shot off in the direction indicated, was not unlike a very eager puppy. As soon as he was gone, Tom strode forwards and collected Sybil in an embrace.
"I missed you so freaking much." He murmured, punctuating each word with a kiss.
"Tom!" She giggled. "I've been gone for twelve hours."
"Twelve very crappy hours."
"You are like a hormonal teenager!"
"What's so bad about that?"
"All the crying?"
"I'm too manly to cry."
"Oh, I'm sorry, didn't mean to insult your manhood." Sybil laughed, Tom spluttering slightly and turning red.
"Sybil- w-why are you- why would you even- that's not s topic for public- Sybil!"
"What?"
"Why had my genitals-"
"Who said anything about genitals?" Tom's features morphed into a scowl, thought the façade did not last for long, and he soon began to smile. He was about to retort, but a very angry William appeared beside them.
"That was really mean." He announced, before, with (what Sybil could have sworn was) a flick of his hair, he flounced back to the car.
"I suppose we'd better leave." She announced, sighing in resign.
"Why the long face?" Tom asked, as he retrieved his bag.
"You have a treat in store for you."
"At Downton? Have they all grown fangs?"
"…You'll see."
Five solo choruses of Rolling in the Deep, Gangham Style, You're the one that I Want (Grease), a disturbing rendition of La Vie enRose and High School Musical (why, lord?) later, they pulled outside Downton, William leaping from the vehicle (this time unhindered by the seat belt), and hurling himself into the house shrieking about saving Daisy from the angels, Tom and Sybil were thoroughly exhausted.
"I suppose we should go in."
"I agree… or…"
"Or?"
"We could suddenly develop a case of bunburyism?"
"Let's go, Syb." They stepped out of the car, and into the cold air, hurrying inside.
"We're back!" Sybil announced, only to be met with a grunted 'Hello' from everybody else who were still staring intently at the-
"Statue." Sybil murmured in Tom's ear. "The nose fell off, and the Doctor Who creepies have gotten rather the better of everyone."
"Why?" Tom asked pointedly.
"Because it was spooky-"
"No, why is everybody freaking out, it can't move anyway."
"What?"
"The other statue bellow the stairs- the baby facing over the woman's shoulder is looking at it, like in the ending of Blink." It was true- from their angle at the door, it became much more obvious.
Twelve sets of incredulous eyes swivelled around to stare at Tom.
"I think we've been a bit heavy on the eggnog." John remarked.
"Is that why Papa's fallen asleep?" Mary enquired, poking the sleeping Earl.
From relatively beside Mr Carson, they heard the faintest of,
"For God's sake…"
There was much less interrogation than Sybil had foreseen, and soon, dinner was over, and the entire patchwork family was sprawled on various padded surfaces of the modern converted living room (in the servant's quarters), in front of the Matrix, (a Crawley Christmas eve tradition) in a state of either consciousness or slumber (natural or alcohol induced), save for Violet, who was perched as elegantly as ever, clad in flowing silken trousers, and a dove grey cashmere twinset, reeking power. The silver tree's lights reflected around the darkened room bleakly illuminating the features, as the flickering light from the television was not all too reliable. On a stack of cushions on the floor, Sybil was contently curled in Tom's arms. Suddenly, Mary nudged Sybil with her toe, (made easy due to her position on the sofa) and giggled wickedly. Sybil observed her sister, mystified, for a moment, before glancing back at the television, and realisation dawned.
"Mary!" She cried, burying her face into Tom's vast bicep, a deep crimson flush spreading up her neck.
"What are you doing?" Cora enquired, far too lazy due to the great quantity of food she had consumed.
"It's Sybil one true love!" Mary crooned teasingly, before collapsing into a fit of giggles.
"What's this now?" Tom queried, jiggling his arm slightly, and stooping his head down to her level.
A pale blue eye stared back up at him, faltering slightly under his pointed gaze.
"When Sybil was a teenager, she had the biggest crush on him." Mary explained, pointing to the screen. Tom recoiled in horror.
"The funky beard?"
"No!" Sybil cried, extracting her face from his bare arm (which she had been quite contentedly smelling up until then. Yes, creepy, whatever.), "No! Not him! Tank!"
"And tell him about when you were studying it at school." Anna requested, eyes shining with glee. Sybil glared at her for a moment, before turning back to Tom.
"Our teacher was answering questions about the film, in case we didn't understand anything, and I was confused as to how the guy with the funky beard could have been in the Matrix to make the deal with Elrond-"
"Hugo Weaving."
"Agent Smith."
"Do you want me to tell the story or not?"
"Right, sorry." Anna murmured.
"Anyway, I was confused, because I knew that Tank had to plug them in, and he would have known that the guy with the funky beard was in the Matrix.
"Though I could not, for the life of me, remember Tank's name. Though nobody understood what I was talking about, I wasn't expressing myself very well, and I was getting extremely frustrated, until they asked me to clarify what I was on about, where I said: 'How was it that the hot one didn't know that the one with the funky bear was in the Matrix?', rather- erm, loudly."
Tom chuckled, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, while the others burst into fits of mirth.
"And now tell him the rest." Sybil sighed, and wilted a little bit. Tom's arms clamped around her middle, and hoisted her up.
"And then my class mates got a bit… confused as to who I was talking about- they thought that I was referring to the guy with the beard as the hot one." She could feel Tom shaking with poorly repressed laughter. "Until I lost my temper, stood up and shouted- and not of my own free will, mind you, 'Tank is the hot one! Tank, I find him exceedingly attractive! Both his muscular build and technological capabilities are intriguing and sexy!' "
And, as the rest of the room cackled with laughter, Sybil groaned, and smothered her face with her hand.
"Oh, shut up the lot of you- haven't you ever said anything embarrassing?"
"Not like that, my dear, not like that." Granny crowed.
"Though embarrassing statements can be intriguing." Matthew supplied.
"And sexy." Daisy finished, with a joking flick of her eyebrow.
"Oh, sod off the lot of you- I'm going to continue smelling my boyfriend's arm." As she broke Tom's grip and slipped down to her previous smelling point, the room suddenly fell into silence. The arm her nose was pressed against tensed.
"What did you just say?" John asked, blinking.
"Don't." Was all she said, before the room exploded into a rapture of amusement. She cringed, and shrunk inwardly. She felt another kiss pressed to her curls from above, and she felt the familiar warmth spreading through her. Snuggling contentedly into his arms, she sighed happily. The arm that wasn't being spooned by her face moved, as it reached around behind him, fumbled for something in the back pocket of the wearer's snug fitting jeans, and then returned.
"Shh." Tom whispered in her ear, as he pressed a small, hard object into her palm. "Merry Christmas- I know it's not much, but I wanted to-"
Sybil turned back and kissed him lingeringly on the lips.
"Merry Christmas." She whispered.
In return for the six pack of underwear with characters from Sesame Street prinked on them (they had decided fun. Fun was always good), a cool metal picture frame had been deposited to her, bearing a block of finely water coloured text.
'Miss Crawley, My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.'
"I mean it, you know."
She couldn't help but grin.
"I know."
MERRY CHRISTMAS!
Christmas at Downton! :D Sorry it's so sloppy and unedited- it's almost eleven on Christmas night, and I'm being ordered to go to bed!
Thank you for all your darling support!
Please review- it's Christmas! Xx