Hello and welcome to the TML Honeymoon! However, before we go on holiday... I want to say a brief thank you for the multitude of Highclere nominations this story garnished! I about flipped my lid I was so touched as this modern AU story is both very different and quite ambitious. To know that the technique, M&M relationship and plot are worthy of such nods is a thrilling treat. So, thank you one and all!
And now on with the show...
Mary awoke to the sound of her alarm clock. She hit the snooze button and stretched with a wonderful sense of expectation. Today was the first day of her honeymoon. What a thought that was to relish as it had been delayed for more than six months. She eagerly sat up in bed and pulled her hair into a ponytail. Unexpectedly, she saw Matthew reach to switch the alarm off. Mary almost couldn't believe her eyes. Since Matthew had been so hard to rouse from bed lately, she had expected he would hit the snooze button at least a few times. She now had much to ponder as his sleepy eyes met her own.
"A brave move," she teased him regarding his action, forgoing the alarms reminder. "Are you sure you're ready to get up?" Mary asked him fondly, seeing the now ravenous look on his face.
"I have no problem getting it up if that is what you're implying," Matthew said huskily with a smug grin. Mary returned the impish smirk.
"Can I interest you in a shared bathing interlude?" He asked while tickling her around her hips and ribs. She giggled as she playfully batted away his hands, her breath quickening as she anticipated the unnerving commotion. However, it wasn't long before Mary, being devilishly ticklish, succumbed to the sensation.
"Not fair," she wheezed between her laughter. "I don't fit in your therapy tub, and you know it!"
Matthew stopped tickling and pulled her towards him, Mary collapsed across his chest.
"I was really thinking perhaps we could try the shower," he said lustfully, "Like in Vienna."
Mary raised her head from her perch, their eyes meeting. She didn't dare make such suggestions because of his back; Mary let him set the pace. And her husband was obviously feeling frisky.
"Asad said I should get exercise since I will be missing physical therapy," Matthew continued innocently.
"Only if you write that formula in the steam again," Mary said her chin resting on his torso, her hand creeping down slowly. "It will be an interesting comparison to see it now versus how I visualize it in my memory."
Matthew gasped as her hand's movements further aroused him. "Deal," he said with a tug on her ponytail. "However, since we are recreating the past, you will need to bring your poetry."
"My pleasure," Mary purred. "And darling I'm glad you didn't tell me to bring the poet because that was one visual I certainly don't need."
"Far too crowded," Matthew laughed. "I'm not willing to share. My bride, my wife; my honeymoon."
Several hours later they had not walked a great distance, and the cab driver had been very helpful with the luggage, but Mary was still worried. The grey winter weather was not behind
them just yet. In the train station although they both had rolling suitcases she was starting to worry that even this simple task navigating the object was becoming a burden to Matthew. He was after all walking with a cane. She clutched their tickets in her hands nervously as she looked for the correct departure gate in exasperation.
"Should I tell you?" he asked mysteriously. Although there was humor in his voice, Mary's keen eyes she could see how he was leaning heavily on his cane. Matthew was still only about seventy percent healed from his car accident last summer. Mary couldn't help but berate herself. This delay was a taint on the beginning of their long overdue honeymoon.
"What on earth are you talking about darling?" Mary asked him as his teasing confused her.
"The gate Mary," he said with a coy smile. "I know which gate."
Since Matthew was not psychic, all she could do was curse her father. It was the only logical explanation and her mistake for having shared the location.
"My father never could keep a secret," Mary said with a huff.
"Mary," Matthew said calmly, he stepped forward gingerly with his cane, but his kiss was graceful and it brought her clarity through her jumbled thoughts. Their trip would be still perfect she was reassured by his actions.
Thankfully it was only a few more minutes of traversing the immense station before they could board the correct train. Mary tried not to fuss when Matthew finally sat down with a sigh of relief. Mary put her purse safely under the seat and removed a lumbar pillow from her carry-on bag for Matthew. He used it immediately, almost greedy for the item as if she had handed him a piece of chocolate cake. Soon Matthew's feet were elevated and his seat comfortably adjusted.
"Mary," he whispered as he waved his index finger, gesturing for her to come closer. She expected anything except her husband's question.
"Have you ever done it on a train?"
She reached across the seat, her head shaking slightly with a wicked grin. However, she stopped just before fulfilling the kiss her posture implied. Her fingers playfully stroked his blond hair. It was her turn to whisper, except she spoke in French, "Nous sommes à l'aventure!"
And then she winked.
As their journey continued, Mary worked on her blog and Matthew re-read Hitchhiker's guide to the universe. They both chuckled as they enjoyed their diversions. But, after a delicious lunch Mary noticed a definite change in Matthew. He would unquestionably benefit from a little rest, but he was fighting the impulse. Matthew turned his head towards the window as he tried to hide each and every yawn. It was time for her to take action. Mary pressed the call button and a waiter appeared almost immediately beside their seats. One of the liberties of their train voyage was the freedom to bring their own libation if so desired. Mary, therefore, retrieved her stowed bottle of wine from The Crawley Companies Vineyards. It was a special vintage that she had chosen with her father's permission from his private reserve cellar. She was forgiving enough to at least acknowledge how much her father did care for their happiness.
Mary had anticipated that Matthew's stamina for the journey which would total about seven hours would falter. But, she could covertly relax him. She knew her husband would not deny her a toast to celebrate the fact that tomorrow would be the one year anniversary of their reunion and thus engagement. As the waiter poured the glasses, Mary watched her husband's expression; the silent love that occupied the air was staggering. In many ways, this loving moment was twenty times greater than last year, which had been a daunting brave new world. Because they had faced each and every challenge together, they had arrived at this moment.
"Magnifique!" the waiter said as he poured the wine, "Cerise rouge, vieilli, bouquet!" Ce vin chaque gorgée un régal épicée. Excellent goût mademoiselle! "
Matthew's fatigue seemed to be momentarily paused as he observed the way his wife reacted to the waiter. The blush Mary carried on her expressive face made Matthew's appreciation for this moment soar to new heights.
With their glasses raised, Mary said simply, "To us."
After the waiter left, Matthew took Mary's hand and kissed her fingers near where she wore both her engagement ring and her wedding band. Matthew quietly then asked her, "Did I ever tell you about Isaac Newton's kissing problem in geometry?" His voice was so soft, the words tentative despite the conviction of his tone. Mary smiled at the depth of her husband's determination despite his self imposed obstacles to translate what he felt.
"Tell me darling," she encouraged sweetly. "It could be another chapter in our maths book."
Mary poured them both another glass and she took a drink of her wine letting the liquid slide down her throat slowly. Matthew gulped the majority of his wine down in one quick sip. He then cleared his throat and set his glass on the makeshift table between their seats. His lips were now brightly stained by the red wine, and he licked them seductively.
"Newton's maths problem has a very simple solution," Matthew said warmly, "In one dimension; the kissing number is always two."
"Show me darling," Mary encouraged this time with a burst of affection. "I need proof," she said making her own maths reference. This time when the two of them kissed Mary could almost feel the calculations rushing from her husband into her own body; he waited until it was necessary for their lips to part. "Always two," he repeated. "I've added to Newton's original theorem when I say, "Two means me and you." Mary smiled a wicked grin of promises to come.
The wine did the trick and soon Matthew was dozing. The lumbar pillow supporting his healing back, his seat fully reclined and his shoes removed he was unable to resist the sleep he needed. The train jostled him slightly, but he didn't seem to mind, Matthew appeared completely relaxed. Mary looked out the window from her aisle seat at the beautiful scenery. However, the view of her husband trumped anything France had to offer.
As the train approached their destination, Mary woke Matthew from his nap with a kiss. "Always two," she said sweetly. However, then the train unexpectedly lurched, and Matthew's sleepy reclined form grabbed his arm rest. But his white knuckle grip did not release once the simple jolt had passed. Mary wondered about his reaction, but he brushed off her concern and so she made no further comment.
The winter's sun had set over the coast of the French Rivera as they arrived. Although Matthew walked stiffly, Mary could not mistake the jovial attitude of his disposition. Matthew even insisted that they watch a mine perform on the nearby beach walkway for several minutes before they checked into their hotel. Mary enjoyed the way her husband seemed to be hypnotized with almost envy as he observed the performer.
"Mimes are amazing; they can express so much without words," Matthew said as he stared at the street artist mimicking a story through body motions, without the use of speech. Mary was touched at the vulnerability of her husband's remark since she knew it was so personal a reflection.
In their luxurious suite, Mary was also happy to notice that Matthew did not immediately sit down when given the opportunity. Instead, he inspected their rooms, even walking out onto the terrace to appreciate their ocean view. The night air was brisk, but the view of the French Rivera was unmistakably appealing. Matthew wrapped his arms around his wife and kissed the top of her head as they embraced. He told her this destination she had picked was, "As nice as Nice can be."
Mary suggested they could stay in, and order room service, but Matthew insisted they should go out for dinner. As they walked down the Promenade des Anglais, Mary pointed out landmarks and locations she knew by heart, having been here made times before.
"This is called the Bay of the Angels?" Matthew questioned her, "How appropriate a name from where I'm standing."
Mary felt a rushing sensation of vindication at his words. She had been so certain of her love for this man, long before it was actually something that was proper. Mary had simply trusted her impulses. She felt a familiar twinge shoot throughout her body, a rampaging of love, chemistry and primal lust.
MINE.
When Mary looked at her husband, she saw it contained on his face. Three hundred and sixty-four days of trials and tribulations, epic moments of euphoric ups and catastrophic lows between them. Now, they were unmistakably a couple on their honeymoon. And it was time to celebrate.
In the restaurant, they drank too much wine and ate too much food, but they couldn't possibly laugh enough to suit either of them. Mary told Matthew stories from her childhood while playfully feeding him bites of ratatouille.
"When I was five years old, my favorite pair of shoes were patent leather," Mary said. "This was just after Sybil was born, and my parents were overwhelmed by the three of us, now that they were outnumbered." She offered another bite to Matthew as she continued.
"My nanny in a fit of exasperation since they were the only shoes I would wear, told me that the shoe's reflection would allow boys in my new school to look up my skirts," Mary stopped while she took a drink of her pastis cocktail. "So," she continued, "I stopped wearing skirts."
Mary had to hold the fork in midair as Matthew was giggling too much at the imagery and could not receive the next mouthful. He took a sip of his pastis cocktail to aid his digestion and hopefully avoid choking. For their next course, Mary thought they would order Madeleine's for dessert since they were a time traveling biscuit.
Several hours later Mary knew she was drunk, but she forced herself to adequately sober up at the prospect of watching Matthew. He thought his lack of coordination positively hilarious as he struggled to his feet. Although returning to the hotel was only a short stroll Mary could feel Matthew's unsteady steps as he continued to giggle. She had to assist his walking by keeping her arm around his waist because he could not be bothered to hold his cane. Matthew had his arm around her shoulder, but it would occasionally sneak towards her breasts for a light tweaking. It took all of her monumental resolve to stay focused.
Almost there, she told herself. Just until the hotel room, she promised herself. After all, a drunken Matthew had always turned her on.
In their suite, Matthew literally fell out of her arms and onto their bed. He shed his shoes and laughed as he tried to readjust his body to recline against the collection of pillows. Mary stepped over his cane, which she had haphazardly dropped. She then started removing her clothes frantically because she could not wait any longer. They had to put skin to skin immediately. Once naked she pounced onto the bed to start liberating him from the unnecessary garments.
"Oh no," Matthew said his inebriated voice slurring, "You've got that look in your eyes," he continued mischievously, "But I warn you, Mary my wife, I'm experiencing that kissing problem again!"
When Mary woke up the next morning it was a completely different experience than the day before. She was not giddy with excitement, and it was not an alarm that provoked her awakening. Instead, she was absolutely tranquil and sedate. Except for her full bladder, she was perfectly content. And she was immensely pleased to realize that she also did not have a hangover. Mary eased herself quietly out of their bed to refresh herself. When she returned, she peaked out of the closed curtains to admire the late morning sun beaming over the French Riviera. She took a deep breath at the beautiful coastal vision before her. This would be their home for the next few weeks. It was well worth the wait. Suddenly, though her senses were redirected to a groan coming from their bed. Matthew was awakening, and it seemed he had not escaped the dreaded hangover from the sounds he was making.
"Good morning darling," she said crawling back into bed under the covers. She nuzzled his face with her nose as she propped herself up on her elbows.
"Crikey," Matthew said with amusement as he shifted on their bed. He rubbed his bloodshot eyes. "What a marathon."
"Hangover?" Mary asked sympathetically.
Matthew chuckled. "I don't know," he said with bemusement as he squirmed on the bed.
"The consensus so far is normal aches plus some unexpected ones." He rubbed his temples for a moment as he continued to awaken. Mary watched as he winced. He yawned and reached up to brush some of Mary's hair behind her ear. She looked particularly amorous, a beautiful modern Venus, the vision of all of his desire. Even with his body currently in shambles he still longed for her, which was reassuring.
"In my humble opinion I think you should keep your hair at this length. At least for a while, it suits you," he said running his fingers through the brunette strands that fell just above her shoulders.
Mary playfully shook her hair in his face, and he laughed at the tickling sensation. However, his back made him squirm on the bed again. He extended his arms and stretched rolling his shoulders and neck in the process testing his flexibility. Matthew's breath blew a raspberry as he groaned.
"Mon Dieu," he spoke French with an awkward grin plastered on his smiling face. Matthew tentatively moved against the pillows. "I just wish I could remember our escapades from last night because then I'd know why I have one hell of a backache," he bemoaned.
Mary realized the details from last night even in her memory were murky. She could remember the outline as though it was the start of a brilliant watercolor painting, but it was just a flash of beautiful imagery, not a complete work of art. The pile of clothing and Matthew's cane on the floor said enough. Feeling responsible and protective of her husband, she knew what to offer him. It had been her idea to ply him with alcohol all day yesterday, and he had a famously low tolerance for drinking.
"Say no more," Mary said playfully. "Assume the position," she said adding French pronunciation to her last word.
"You read my mind," Matthew said with elation. "Merci Beaucoup," he replied as he rolled onto his stomach almost gracefully and almost without groaning.
"Tu es à moi et je vais avoir mon chemin avec vous. Permettez-moi de soulager vos douleurs," Mary replied in her perfected French accent.
"And for the disabled who don't speak French that means?" Matthew asked in bewilderment as his face lowered to the soft silken sheets.
"You are mine, and I will have my way with you. Let me ease your aches."
Matthew let himself go limp with his arms at his sides.
"I like the sound of that," he sighed as he closed his eyes.
But then he felt the bed dip and the loss of Mary's weight. Matthew's eyes snapped back open.
"Wait, where are you going?" he found himself helplessly whining.
Although he didn't mind the view of his naked wife tip toeing across their lavish bedroom, he still felt anxious for her return. His back was screaming for relief, and he was becoming impatient as the nagging aches pulsated throughout his body. His head was also pounding, and his stomach had started to feel queasy. A raw sense of panic consumed him; this was not how a man on his honeymoon should feel.
"Hold your horses darling, I know just where the massage lotion is," Mary said as she unzipped a front component of her suitcase. She quickly returned and arranged herself on their bed kneeling beside her waiting husband. Mary playfully drizzled the peppermint and ginger scented lotion making the design of a smiley face on his back. She giggled at her art work.
"Merde," Matthew said with a loud groan as she began the massage. Mary laughed affectionately at his French swear word.
"Cris de coeur," Mary said, "A passionate outcry." She smiled wickedly at his reaction.
She had grown quite knowledgeable about how to massage the resistance in Matthew's taunt muscles. She felt like a muse the way he responded to her ministrations.
"You have so many dreadful knots in your back darling," she cooed and then grimaced in sympathy.
"Myofascial trigger points," Matthew mumbled, "That is a muscular knots medical name and my bad back sounds much more impressive that way."
"Nasty buggers are what I really want to call them." Mary countered, and Matthew chuckled sedately. Her hands massaged in unison with slow rhythmical circles. Mary continued to be slightly horrified at the spasms in his tight muscles. It was not fair that he had to face such repercussions from their fun yesterday.
"Feeling any better darling?" She asked him hopefully.
"Yes," Matthew said and then quietly, almost a whisper he continued, "No," and then "I don't know," he swallowed and his breathing increased towards a sudden panic attack. "Mary," he said frantically, "I actually don't know what I am feeling." Matthew was lost in his thoughts.
"Are you sure you're not feeling hung-over?" Mary said calmly as she continued her massaging strokes.
Matthew couldn't stop himself from giving into the tide wave of feelings swirling inside him that he didn't understand. It was emasculating, and his worst possible fear, that because of his back he was always going to be a burden to Mary.
"Are you sure you're not disappointed by this year rather than last? The grand romantic reunion verses this broken reality?"
"Matthew," she said forcefully, her voice was loud as she was determined to get his attention, but her tone was gentle. "Listen to me darling," Mary began trying to soothe his manic shift in moods. The emotional release of the massage was like detoxification, and he was rather vulnerable. She ignored his comment about last year.
"I get what I want – and you are everything to me," she stated, "In fact I thought last night with smug vindication how I was never more certain in my life then when I let myself love you."
As his head continued to spin, Mary's soothing touch anchored him. Matthew couldn't trust what he was thinking or feeling, but he knew he could trust her. He winced in pain, but the sensation mixed with an occasional burst of pleasure as Mary kneaded with her special expertise throughout his lower back.
"Mary," he said her name reverently and there was a pleasant silence between them before Matthew hesitantly tried to explain what was so vexing him.
"I want to tell you something that has been on my mind," he said quietly.
Mary kept her massaging stokes firm, but tender to encourage him.
"You can always tell me anything darling. After all, you are mine, and I am yours." Mary said, and she was actually rewarded with a small chuckle from her husband. Matthew took another deep breath before he spoke.
"On the train when I woke up, and it lurched I was sure another train was approaching and was about to hit us. It was just like in the Jaguar…but…" Mary watched as he bit his lip before he continued. "But, then I saw your face and I was okay… I am okay," he corrected.
Mary's touch was helping him enormously he realized. He almost purred at the contact suddenly as he drew in another deep breath.
"Relax," she commanded him and he couldn't deny Mary.
"Good grief," he found himself gasping. Matthew hummed at the comfortable force Mary was pressing into a particularly bad knot in his lower back. It was like dominoes falling as her soothing touch was spreading throughout his problematic aches.
"I'm really okay when you do that."
"Relief mon chérie?" Mary asked him.
A strangled hiss escaped his lips followed by, "Oui."
Mary smiled at her triumph. She was confident that he was reclaiming his equilibrium.
Soon afterwards a knock on their door, interrupted the moment. Mary quickly donned a robe to answer it. Matthew stretched contentedly before turning over to recline against the pillows against the headboard of their bed. He pulled up the blanket to cover himself before Mary opened the suite door. When she opened it, she found the concierge with a large arrangement of beautiful flowers, an assortment of fruits that were considered to be aphrodisiacs, chocolate truffles and a jewelry box. Matthew smiled at the delivery; this was how a man should feel on his honeymoon he thought smugly.
"Bonjour," the concierge said in polite greeting. "Je suis désolé de vous interrompre, mais je dois mademoiselle ces fleurs à offrir à votre mari. Il vous souhaite une joyeuse Saint-Valentin."
Matthew didn't have to understand what the concierge was saying since he had arranged the surprise. His father-in-law's information had come in very handy. Mary was so stunned she stared at the concierge, her hands clasped over her mouth in shock. She turned towards Matthew fighting back tears, and Mary Crawley does not cry easily. The concierge brought the presents to the closest available table.
"Passez une bonne journée agréable," the concierge said as he departed with a wily smirk having noticed the man already in Mary's bed.
"What did he just say?" Matthew asked suddenly suspicious.
"Never mind my darling," she said having finally found her voice. She shed her robe and skipped back to their bed.
"Je t'aime" Mary said, "I love you," and she suspended her naked body over his as she leaned in for a long and seductive kiss, which Matthew returned hungrily. Since they were on their honeymoon, they had all the time in the world, and nothing was going to get lost in translation.
Thanks for reading! I sincerely hope this chapter was as much fun to read as it was for me to write!
Next on TML: Serendipity.
Defined as the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way.