A/N: Thank you for your wonderful reviews last week! I appreciate them more than you can even know!
There's a part of this chapter that is a little steamier than normal, but not explicit. If you'd rather not read it, it's the italicized part at the end of the chapter!
As you might have guessed, this story is veering in a slightly more mature direction. While I haven't quite made up my mind yet if there will be anything warranting an M rating, I might change it to that just to be safe. For that reason, you might want to follow if you aren't already so you can keep being updated.
Last but not least, I have midterms this week and will need to take a week off of updating to devote my time to that. Thank you for understanding!
New Normal
Chapter Fourteen
February 7, 2020
It was illogical but Mary found herself disliking the time Tom and Lucy spent together. She knew it was silly to complain or find fault in it— after all, it wasn't as if she hadn't spent plenty of time with Henry during the course of their relationship. Nevertheless, spending several nights a week alone (with the exception of the children, that is) grated on her nerves. She cursed the fact that Thomas and Anna were both married, as it meant she didn't really have another single friend to invite over anymore on those lonely nights.
It wasn't that she disliked Lucy or questioned Tom's happiness. In fact, he seemed in higher spirits than he had for ages. On the evenings they spent together, Tom would talk about Lucy often— in fact, Mary found she knew her quite well by now, despite having only met her a handful of times. In some ways, it was endearing and rather sweet to see Tom so excited about someone... but Mary mostly found it annoyed her, which she knew was unfair. How many evenings did he spend listening to you going on and on about Henry? Mary reminded herself as she sulked.
But there was a slight difference; Tom and Henry had been friends. Mary liked Lucy and she was sure the feeling was mutual, but she wouldn't go so far as to call her a friend. Lucy had joined them a couple days ago after a date for a glass of wine, but it wasn't the same.
Mary sighed, tossing in her bed. She checked the time. 12:32. Tom wasn't home yet... nor was he like to be.
A few days prior, she had made the mistake of asking Tom if things were moving too fast with Lucy. It had nearly started another row (which hadn't been Mary's intention in the slightest), and she hadn't mentioned it since. Still, Mary felt as if she had whiplash. How was he so certain he truly cared about this woman? He barely knew her!
Then again, not everyone was nearly as contrary or as incremental as herself. With Matthew, Mary had been utterly shocked when she realized he was no longer just the annoying boy who sat in front of her in class or her friend, but someone she was madly in love with... but of course, nearly everyone else had seen it. She remembered confessing it to Anna, prepared for a surprised reaction, only for her to grin and say, "Well, it took you long enough!"
So Mary decided to trust Tom. Surely he understood his life and relationship far better than her... and it wasn't her business to be worrying about until he decided to involve her in it.
Still, she couldn't help but worry about the future. If things were this serious so soon, maybe Tom wouldn't waste any time. Perhaps he would be convinced of his certainty and proposing and then he would move in with Lucy... and then it would just be her and George again, alone. And then Mary would have to explain to George why another parental figure was leaving his life and accepting the fact that unlike America, Tom wouldn't be returning home. Maybe Granny had been right... maybe it was a bad idea, letting George and Sybbie think of them as a parental unit.
Worrying would do her no good, though. She ought to stop thinking about it and go to sleep.
She didn't follow through on that intention until after two in the morning.
—
February 16, 2020
Mary resumed her place on the couch, drinking a glass of wine. She could hear fragments of a whispered conversation near the front door. Her fingers tightened around the stem of her glass, shoulders tensed. Soon, she heard the front door open then close, and Tom had returned to the living room.
"You like her, don't you?"
Mary remembered when he asked her the same thing of Sarah Bunting. "Of course I do," said Mary, giving him a placid smile. "What's not to like?"
Tom shrugged. "You just seems rather tense this evening. That's all."
Mary didn't look at him, merely leaning forward so she could fill her glass with more wine. She wasn't about to admit to him that she had been rather tense all evening. Every time they had reached out to touch hands, Mary found herself irritated. As much as she had no real desire for a relationship at present, it was hard watching couples being happy. "Sorry," she finally said. "The stress from work must be getting to me."
"Stress?" Tom frowned, lowering himself beside her. "I hope everything's alright."
Mary nodded. "Just— well, this coronavirus thing. Thomas mentioned today that if we start getting more cases, we might have to shut Downton down."
Tom nodded slowly. "There's only a handful of cases right now. As long as it's contained you should be in the clear."
Mary sighed. "I know. But you can't help but think of worst case scenarios when it comes to this sort of thing. And we were counting on using the money this year to repair the roof..."
"I'm sure it will be alright."
Mary smiled, placated for now.
February 20, 2020
Mary was surprised to find Tom at home when she returned with the children. "What are you doing here?" She asked him when she entered the living room, finding him watching a game on the telly. "Shouldn't you be out with Lucy?"
Tom turned around slowly. He seemed downcast, shoulders heavy. "We aren't together anymore."
Mary at once felt like an idiot. "Oh, Tom, I'm so sorry!"
He shook his head. "It's fine. It's just— Well, with this virus..." He trailed off, not needing to say anything more. Mary understood at once. It was all anyone could talk about anymore. Things were growing uncertain and Mary's own opinions seemed to change daily with the influx of information. "Her mother's not doing the greatest. She's got a health condition... and if things get bad, she wants to limit exposure so she can take care of her. And it's really too soon for us to live together..."
Mary balked at the idea of him moving in with a woman he had only truly just met. "Well, I'm sorry it didn't work out," she said, with more sincerity than she realized she was capable of. In spite of everything, she couldn't dislike Lucy. George and Sybbie adored her, she was incredibly kind, and she genuinely seemed to make Tom happy.
Tom offered her a smile. "Thanks." He looked down at his lap. "Who knows... Maybe once things calm down, we can start things back up again. But for now..."
Mary ignored her own annoyance at the idea, reminding herself that Tom deserved to be happy, regardless of how convenient it was to her. "How about we watch a movie tonight? Your choice. I promise not to complain."
Tom managed to grin. She was fully preparing him to suggest one of his war movies, the sorts of things that bored Mary to tears, but instead he said, "What about Mean Girls? I could use a laugh... and it reminds me of Sybil."
Mary smiled. "Very well. Mean Girls it is."
February 29, 2020
With each day that passed, their anxieties about the virus steadily increased. This was, naturally, the time when Sybbie and George decided to drop a bombshell on them. "We don't want to share a room anymore," Sybbie announced to them as they cleared up after lunch.
Tom blinked, nearly dropping the stack of dishes in his hands. "What's brought this on?"
"We're just tired of having to share everything," George said, with only a slight whine in his voice. "Sometimes I just want to be in my room and not have anyone in there!"
"And nobody else in my class has to share a room with their brother," Sybbie added, clearly trying to remain level headed about it. She had clearly armed herself with facts. "And I don't always want George playing with my toys, either."
Mary had a sinking feeling. They always knew this day would come, the day when Sybbie and George would need some time apart from one another, but did it have to come now, of all times? "We understand," Mary began, "Really, we do. But we only have three bedrooms. There isn't enough for all of us right now."
"Why can't one of us sleep in Daddy's room?" George asked.
"Because I'm sleeping there, George. And I thought you wanted to be able to have some time alone," Tom pointed out.
"Why can't you two share a room?" George asked, exasperated. "We've has to share a room for years! How come you two don't have to share?"
"Because we're adults," Mary said sensibly, not quite ready to explain exactly why such a suggestion was inappropriate. She already felt her cheeks heating up at the thought.
"But everyone at school's parents sleeps in the same bedroom!" Sybbie pointed out. "Unless they're divorced or something."
"Not everyone's family is like ours," Mary said, growing frustrated with them both. Why must they be so argumentative? Surely they realized that their situation was uniquely different from everyone else's?
"Why can't we just be normal?" George demanded, sounding exactly like her.
Before Mary could say anything else, Tom jumped in, "Why don't the two of you go outside while we discuss this?"
George and Sybbie exchanged a look— what it was, Mary couldn't decipher— before wearily trodding over to the door. "And wear your coats!" She called after them, well aware they might think she was being mean, but she didn't care.
Tom ran his hand through his hair. "God, what're we going to do?" he asked.
"I don't know," said Mary, face in her hands while looking straight ahead. "Can't we just make them stay put?"
"We could," Tom acknowledged. "But Sybbie is getting a bit old to continue staying with George... and God knows how long we'll have to stay in this house once the government finally shuts things down. Do we really want to have two angry children?"
"What other options do we have?" Mary asked. Aside from sharing a bed, that is, she thought, but she wouldn't say it. She wouldn't. It was a mad...
Tom hesitated. His lips parted before saying, "I could sleep on the couch until we hire someone to build the addition." He paused. "Maybe we could even build it ourselves..."
Mary shook her head. "Absolutely not. To both of those suggestions." She knew herself well enough to know that she would accidentally send one of them to hospital if she were given power tools... not to mention they were easily two of the least qualified people to contemplate such an endeavor. "I've fallen asleep on this couch enough times to know it isn't fit for spending more than one night on at a time." She thought of all the twinges in her neck. "It's not fair to force you out. We could... take turns. One of us spends a night out here... the other in my bed."
Tom gaped. "Mary, I can't sleep in your bed."
Mary wondered if maybe his hesitance stemmed from that ill-advised kiss and she cursed herself for that stupid, impulsive decision. "Well, I won't let you kill your spine by sleeping out here night after night. We aren't young as we once were, Tom."
He lets out a dry laugh. "Thanks, Mary."
"I'm serious!" she insisted. "You sleeping out here every night just isn't a viable option."
Tom exhaled through his nose before saying, "Fine. Let's... let's try it."
March 1, 2020
Tom's things were moved into Mary's room over the weekend. "This feels strange," he said aloud, as she carried a tote full of his clothes into her room.
"It'll only be for a while," she reminded him. "Until we can build the addition."
Tom hesitated. "I suppose you're right." He eyed her king sized bed the way a hero in a fairytale looked upon a dragon.
Mary rolled her eyes. "It won't bite you."
"I know... but this doesn't feel quite right."
It really didn't, but she didn't say it. It was an odd idea, Tom sleeping in her bed, especially when she wouldn't be there. Nevertheless, they'd made the decision now; they couldn't turn back, not unless they want to face a mutiny from George and Sybbie, who were already enthusiastically carrying Sybbie's toys into what was once Tom's room.
Soon, Mary found herself placing all of Tom's toiletries in her bathroom, unused to all the space being taken up now. It had been a long time since she had shared this space with anyone, and in that time, she had grown used to having things done a certain way. It won't be forever, she reminded herself, placing his bar of soap and shampoo in the shower. "I can't tell you how relieved I am to know you aren't one of those men who uses the three in one shampoo, conditioner and body wash," she told him, shuddering theatrically.
"Well, I thought about it many times, but I was afraid you'd evict me if I brought the stuff into the house," Tom teased, setting his razor on her counter. After a moment of silence, he asked, "Are you sure you are okay with this?"
"Of course," replied Mary, though she wasn't certain how honest she was being. She valued having a place to retreat to when the world became too much, and now it wouldn't be hers anymore. Still, she knew it was much worse for Tom, who wouldn't have that sort of space again until they built on to the house. She supposed if she had to share it with anyone, it would be her best friend. "We can handle it."
March 6, 2020
Mary felt as though she had been run over by a bus. Her neck ached— it wasn't just a twinge, it was a full on ache— and her lower back protested with each step she took down the stairs.
She only dreaded to know how Tom felt.
When she found him at the kitchen table, coffee already in hand (and no steam rising from the cup), she knew what he was about to say. "We can't keep doing this."
"No," she agreed. "We can't."
The solution was staring them in the face yet Mary was too much of a coward to say it. But Sybbie and George had been living in harmony, happier than ever to have their own rooms. Sybbie had even begun decorating Tom's old room with pictures she drew— the one she'd drawn of the four of them in kindergarten had joined her renditions of a unicorn and Anna and Elsa from Frozen.
Tom was the one who finally came out with it. "Look— we're mature adults, aren't we? Surely we can— we could handle it. For a month or so." He gulped down his coffee before saying, "We wouldn't let it ruin things."
Mary nodded. For heaven's sake... they had kissed one another and had still remained friends... Surely they could handle this? "Very well. I don't see what other choice we have." It wouldn't be any different from the nights they had spent on the couch together, really... and with any luck, she would discover some disgusting or off putting habit of Tom's that would completely obliterate any whiffs of attraction.
"Thank God that's settled," Tom said, rising to his feet to pour himself another cup. "Now all we have to do is check if the chiropractor's are open."
They put off going to bed as long as possible. They played Trivial Pursuit (Monopoly was off limits after Sybbie had flipped the board last time) with the children until they went to bed, then poured themselves some wine so they could watch TV for another hour or so. When it was almost midnight and the two of them realized they would spend another night on the damnable couch if they didn't move soon, Tom and Mary rose to their feet, heading to her— their— bedroom.
"I can change in the bathroom," Tom offered, gathering his pajamas— a white tee shirt and a pair of black sweatpants.
Mary nodded. "Okay. Sounds good." She was in the midst of rummaging through her pajama drawer for something decent. She finally procured a matching set of red satin pajamas, slipping them on fluidly. She debated on whether or not to leave her bra on or not before sighing and keeping it. This was going to be awkward enough... she didn't want to make things with Tom worse, even if she would be paying for it.
"I'm decent," Tom called out from behind the bathroom door as she untied her hair from its ponytail. "If you're ready to brush your teeth."
Mary opened the door, trudging in. Tom's was already wetting his brush. He stepped aside slightly, allowing her to reach for hers. He offered her the tube of toothpaste, before she shook her head and reached for hers. They crowded over the sink, Mary's electric toothbrush buzzing as Tom spat the foamy toothpaste out. "I'll just, uh, get settled in," he told her after drying his mouth. "Uh, which side do you sleep on?"
"Left," Mary said, though it came out more like "Leff." It had been the side of the bed Matthew had slept on, but after he passed, she always felt closer to him being on that side.
"Okay. Good." Tom shuffled out.
Mary finished brushing her teeth, flossed, and washed her face before finally trudging out of the bathroom. It'll be fine, she told herself, though she wasn't confident it would be. She had actually slept in the same bed with a man in a long while... come to think of it, the last time such a thing had occurred was when Mama has put her and Charles in the same room on New Year's Eve. Goodness, had it been that long?
The lights were still on and Tom was on his phone. "Do you mind if I turn the lights out now?" Mary asked.
"No, go ahead." She flipped the light switch. All that was left was the glow from his phone. Mary walked toward the bed, resigned to their fate, before climbing in. She reached for her own phone and her AirPods. Popping them in, she started her sleep playlist with calming piano music before closing her eyes.
The mattress was large enough that they didn't touch, but Mary remained acutely aware of his presence, even though she had essentially drowned him out and her eyes were closed. She felt him each time he shifted, when he would laugh at something, the warmth radiating from him under their shared covers.
Still, at a certain point, she dozed off. When she came to, about forty minutes later, to turn off her music and remove the AirPods from her ears, Tom was asleep. He was rolled over on his side, facing her. Mary tried to stop herself from smiling, even though nobody was there to judge her, before laying back down.
March 7, 2020
Mary awoke the following morning to the sun on her face and an arm wrapped around her waist. Another's deep breathing filled her ears, a leg wedged between hers, and something against her backside. It wasn't something she was unaccustomed to, only if hadn't happened in so long... Mary let herself relax.
That is, until she remembered who it was.
Her eyelids flew open, muscles tensing. Her gaze fell down to her stomach, where Tom's hand rested.
These things happen, she reminded herself. It's just biological.
"Tom," she said, feeling silly saying his name when she was facing the wall. "Tom!" She said louder.
She felt him stir. "Mary?" He murmured in her ear.
"Yes. Can you let me out? I'm afraid I'm trapped." She tried to phrase it lightly, desperately not wanting to make the situation uncomfortable.
Tom let go of her as if she were on fire. "Sorry!" He gasped, rolling away as she hopped out of bed.
"It's alright. No harm done," she assured him, readjusting her top. It had ridden up in the night. "I just thought I would make us some breakfast." She turned back to the bed, finding Tom red faced and looking embarrassed.
"Erm, yeah. Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks."
Mary left the bedroom as quickly as possible and tried not to let it affect her. Honestly. She tried to think of anything else— she even Googled "how to fry bacon" and followed the instructions to the best of her ability, just to take her mind off it. But she kept thinking about it—
She thought he would follow her down in a few minutes to talk about it. She readied herself for what was almost certainly going to be an awkward conversation, just like the one that had happened after they'd kissed. When he didn't appear in five minutes, Mary worried. Was he angry? Or just to embarrassed? Or was he... taking care of things?
The bacon ended up being crispier than she intended after Mary followed that avenue of thinking longer than she should have, but Sybbie, who had been the first one down to join her, acted as if it was the best thing in the world. "You're getting really good, Mum!" She proclaimed.
That was new... but Mary didn't mind. "Thank you, darling," said Mary, setting the pan on the table, bestowing her with a smile.
"Can I help with the eggs?"
"Sure," Mary said, showing her how to crack them. Though she had mastered scrambled eggs ages ago, she didn't quite trust making them while trying out a new endeavor at the same time.
"Where's Daddy?" Sybbie asked a few minutes later.
Mary didn't know how to answer. She was trying not to think about what Tom might be doing... "He's still in bed. Resting."
Sybbie nodded. "How did you get so good at making scrambled eggs?"
"George's father taught me," she told her.
"Uncle Matthew?"
Mary smiled. "That's right. Uncle Matthew." She turned to Sybbie. "You used to love it when he would play peek-a-boo with you. I know you were too young to remember him, but he adored you."
Sybbie smiled sadly before saying, "I wish I could remember him. And my mother."
Mary stopped whisking. "I wish you could, too." It broke her heart when she thought too deeply of how Matthew would never give George a piggy back ride or how Sybil would never be able to help her daughter with science projects. Sybil could never become George's favorite aunt and Matthew could never carry Sybbie around on his shoulders again. "But at least you have your Dad and I. I hope we're adequate enough substitutes."
Sybbie didn't say anything, just studying Mary as she continued whisking.
Tom and George arrived with in a few minutes of each other, and the four of them are breakfast. Astonishingly, Tom has decided to act as if nothing had happened (unusual for him— he was always one for the hard conversations... though maybe calling it that was a little on the nose) and Mary was perfectly content carrying on the same way... though she suspected the reason he hadn't sat down and had it out with her was because of the children. The morning carried on as normal, Tom driving the children to school and leaving Mary alone to her thoughts.
Mary didn't breathe a word of it when she reached the office. She was well aware the idea of two adults sharing a bed when they weren't even a couple was a bizarre one, to say the very least. Thomas wouldn't understand; he'd definitely judge her, and then he would go home and tell Jimmy so that he could judge her, too. No— no one was to know.
"You look well rested," commented Thomas, smirking when he sat down at his desk with Starbucks. "I take it was your turn to sleep in the bed last night?"
"Yes," said Mary, wishing she hadn't told him about their new sleeping arrangements... or, rather, the olde new sleeping arrangements. It had only come up because Mary, foolishly indulging Thomas's interest in the adventures of Sybbie and George, had let it slip they were in separate rooms. Thomas has managed to wriggle the truth out of her in that infuriating manner of his, playing innocent when he asked her to recount just how many bedrooms were in Crawley House.
"But I thought you had it the night before last."
"Tom let me have it again," said Mary, who figured she wasn't really lying... not technically.
"Are you sure you didn't bully him into it?"
"Tom's a gentleman... which is something you wouldn't know about," snarked Mary, a little irritated by his constant questions.
Thomas clutched his chest theatrically. "You wound me, milady!"
Mary rolled her eyes but smirked. "Check in and compare prices with contractors for me this afternoon, will you?" she asked, figuring the sooner she could get this ball rolling, the better.
"I'll try... but who knows how long they'll be open for business? You don't want half the wall off in your living room for a month, do you? Especially now that it's your bedroom part time."
"I don't want Tom killing his back, either," said Mary. Or to wake up with him pressed against me.
Mary stopped typing. It hadn't actually been... that bad. A little awkward, yes. She was sure it would be even awkward later, once they were alone... but the actual sensation of it had been familiar in a way. And with his arm around her... well, that was quite nice.
"I take it by your silence I should hold off on making enquiries?"
Mary's vision refocused, staring at a paragraph from her email. She nodded. "We'll hold off."
Mary was certain Tom would have it out with her once they were alone— some long, uncomfortable conversation about how they were best friends, how it was a biological function, how things would stay platonic, etcetera, etcetera...
But he never did. Not even after George and Sybbie were sent up to bed, not when they were alone on the couch, watching some show Tom liked. Mary couldn't follow the plot and didn't even bother asking what they were watching, too engrossed with her thoughts about their morning and the imminent conversation that would follow. It wasn't until they went up to bed that Tom acknowledged it. "I'm sorry. About this morning." He wasn't looking at her, rifling through his drawers that were designated as his for a pair of pajamas.
"It's alright. I— I know you didn't mean anything by it." Mary cheeks felt warm. Though she was fairly confident in her abilities to ensnare most of the male population, she was also certain Tom was immune to her charms. It had nothing to do with her.
They conducted the same routine again, still with some residual awkwardness, but with more certainty this time around. No questions were asked, Mary was the first one in bed, mindlessly scrolling Instagram and already noting the lack of vacation photos as Tom climbed into the opposite side of the bed. "Goodnight, then," she said, voice higher pitched than normal.
"Goodnight," Tom replied, his voice now gruffer.
Mary popped in her AirPods, wondering if tomorrow would be any better or not.
March 12, 2020
There was not yet any signs from the government that estates like Downton would need to shut down, but Mary felt it was the right choice. Tours were canceled, which lead to a massive outpour of hateful emails that Thomas had to reply to with cheerful politeness. "A lot of the Americans are absolutely enraged," he said. "We've ruined their holidays."
"I'd rather their holidays be ruined than their lives. The state of their healthcare system is atrocious," said Mary, uncaring. They had received full refunds if they had booked ahead and she wasn't going to risk anyone's lives.
Plans were made to maintain the Downton experience online. Mary planned on starting a blog for the website about growing up at Downton and had even considered a virtual tour with narration. Thomas felt it was a good idea but she was going to check it over with Mama and Papa.
"Is today our last day in the office, then?" asked Thomas. "Now that everything's online?"
"I suppose so," said Mary. "You and I would probably be safe enough with just us two... but who knows anymore?" Nothing seemed certain these days. "I'm sure we can find ways of communicating with each other from home anyway."
She didn't miss the way he grinned... he was likely looking forward to spending his days with Jimmy, who had already started working from home now. Mary had to stop herself from rolling her eyes, reminding herself that just because she was alone didn't mean others had to be.
Mama and Papa were looking forward to have free range of the house again, but Papa understandably had concerns about bringing in enough money. Mary informed him of her plans before heading back home.
Her first few days of solitude were interesting. She usually woke when Tom's alarm went off, but was easily able to fall asleep once he hit snooze... until it went off again. And again.
Going back to sleep was harder once Tom finally climbed out of bed, the heat leaving once he lifted up their shared covers. This was usually met by a groan from Mary, muffled by her pillow, and answered by a chuckle from Tom.
Tom's daily routine was a soundtrack, his shower the song that would lull her back to sleep after everything else. The only interruption to her sound sleep was when the children would rush up before they left for school, saying goodbye and giving her kisses farewell.
After a while, Mary would crawl out of bed, walking downstairs and preparing herself a cup of coffee and helping herself to a bowl of cereal or whatever left overs Tom had saved for her. She would stand by the window, wrapped up in a cardigan, before sitting down and sifting through whatever work needed to be done. Considering that most of the things at Downton were at a standstill, it simply meant replying to emails and answering Thomas's questions before enjoying a day at home all to herself. She would wait to properly dress mid-afternoon and pick George and Sybbie up from school before going home.
It was nice, really. She was able to enjoy the freedom she had experienced when Tom and Sybbie were away while knowing they would be home in a few hours time. It made Mary feel secure as she carried out her days... though there were downsides. For one, with so much time on her hands, it meant there was more time to think about Tom.
He was the first thing she thought of everyday when she woke up— which was hardly any wonder, as he was laying beside her. On the mornings where she woke first, she would allow herself a quiet moment to study his face before rising. She had began cataloguing their touches, the innocent moments where they brushed against one another to reach a cabinet or as they walked the stairs. Somehow, despite their best efforts to remain firmly on their side of the bed, they normally woke up in some sort of embrace.
"I didn't know you were such a cuddler," remarked Tom good naturedly one morning when Mary decided to bite the bullet and get ready at the same time as him.
Mary shrugged, ignoring her embarrassment. It had been a long time since she had shared a bed just for sleeping.; with Matthew, it had been natural to hold one another as they slept. She supposed that was all it was, simply a reflex. "I do that when it's cold sometimes," she explained, trying to come up with yet another excuse. She didn't want him thinking it was anything else, not after the Kiss.
He had settled surprisingly easily into her space. They began using the same tube of toothpaste, she became used to the sight of his slippers near the door, and the blankets soon seemed to smell like him. Mary was astonished how little it bothered her.
But her solitude was interrupted by Tom's abrupt declaration that he too would be staying home for the foreseeable future. "They don't need us all in the office," he explained when he arrived home from work. "And most of what I've been writing about can be done at home, anyway. I hope that's not a problem for you."
"Not at all," said Mary, though she now realized her impromptu performances of Broadway showtunes was now on a permanent hold. "You can work in Matthew's office, if you want." Even after all this time, it was still solidly Matthew's office in her mind. She'd never needed the space and it was still full of his possessions... it seemed silly, that neither of them had disturbed it, yet she supposed he too must have viewed it as belonging to Matthew still. "Then you don't have to worry about any distractions."
"That'd be great. Thanks." He looked relieved.
Having the house to themselves felt strange. Mary decided to use the time to binge watch TV shows she had always meant to watch but never seemed to have the time for and Tom hid away in the office for most of the day. Mary usually somehow ended up in charge of lunches, usually making a sandwich for herself and texting him to offer him one as well. That was one of the few times of the day Tom left the office, joining her at the table.
"Are you doing anything interesting?" she asked one afternoon, genuinely curious. She had always expressed a modicum of interest in Tom's work, always admiring of his talent with words, but now she felt even more compelled.
Tom shrugged, reaching down for his sandwich. "Not particularly. The same sort of thing, mostly, but with a little more emphasis on the virus."
Mary nodded, secretly disappointed he wasn't sharing more. She idly picked at her own sandwich, tearing off the crust without much thought, oblivious to the amused look on Tom's face. "Well, I can't say as though my day has been particularly exciting, either. I spoke to those people about the website and now I watched half an episode of The Good Place before deciding to make food."
Tom grinned. "Well, that sounds more thoroughly entertaining that my day this far." He stretched out under the table, foot bumping against Mary's. She tensed inadvertently, stunned by the touch, but she didn't dislike it. Not at all. "Do you mind popping out to the store this afternoon? We might need to stock up on some things."
Mary grimaced. She loved shopping... she just hated grocery shopping. It was so tedious and boring and easily one of Mary's least favorite things about being an adult. Tom usually stopped in once he was through with work but she took on some of the burden as well. "Very well," she sighed. "Do you have a list or should I write it down?"
"You'd best write it down." Mary was about to rise and look for a scrap of paper and pen before realizing she could just jot it down in her Notes app. Mary reached for her phone, typing furiously as he rattled off all the things they might need.
Already a great number of people were wearing masks when Mary arrived to the store. She immediately felt guilty for not doing so herself before reminding herself they didn't really have any masks at her disposal. With a sigh, she added it to her list, figuring all four of them would need them at some point.
She was rolling the trolley down the aisles of the store, pleased she had managed to snag one of the last two packages of toilet paper, looking for some popcorn when Tom's favorite crisps caught her eye. She stopped in the middle of the aisle, much to the annoyance of the middle aged woman who was stuck behind her, biting her lip. It wasn't on the list... and it wasn't as if they needed it... Nevertheless, Mary tossed it in.
Mary almost felt silly when she arrived home, unpacking the groceries by herself. He's working, she reminded herself when she unloaded the crisps, setting them on the counter. Still, once everything was in its appropriate location, Mary grabbed the bag in her hand and set off towards the office.
Mary pressed her ear to the sturdy door, listening for voices. When she heard none, she knocked thrice, albeit lightly. "Come in!" Tom called out.
Mary immediately felt like an idiot when she walked into the office. What was she doing? Was she trying to impress him? Why was she doing this? She might have stood there, saying nothing, for quite some time if Tom had not asked "What's this?"
"Your favorite crisps." She sat them down on the desk. She managed a weak smile. "They were on sale," she lied, not wanting him to think she had done it specially, lest he somehow see her intentions...
But Tom merely gazed down at them. "Thank you," he told her sincerely with a grin, ripping the back open with gusto. The scent of salt and vinegar flavored crisps hit her nostrils, which usually bothered her, but she could hardly mind when her traitorous heart seemed to grow three sizes thanks to his enthusiasm.
"You're welcome," she replied, folding her hands nervously.
It wasn't that she was incapable of doing nice things for others; when it came to the children, Mary found herself doing whatever she could to make them happy without a second thought. When it came to her friends, she was willing to go to any lengths for them. It had been that way for Tom... well, until now. Now all her actions were tinged with something else, a desire to somehow please him for more selfish reasons, reasons she shouldn't be entertaining. What was she hoping would happen? That she would buy him a package of crisps and he would declare his feelings for her? Mary didn't even know how she felt about him, let alone how she wanted him to feel about her.
And yet Mary couldn't say she wouldn't do it again, if for no other reason than to see him smile. She dismissed herself, insisting he ought to get back to work, before slipping out of the room.
She felt more alive than she had in ages. It was as though her body was on fire, each brush of his fingers against her bare skin igniting the flames.
"Stop teasing me," Mary gasped out in frustration as his hand moved away from her thighs. It was like torture, having him so close yet not close enough.
Tom chuckled and she felt his breath on the side of her neck. She was about to plead with him yet again when he pressed a kiss to her lips and moved his fingers just where she needed them.
Mary awoke, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath. Her heart pounded in her chest, the sound so loud in her ears she was certain Tom could hear it... She glanced over to find him blissfully asleep, laying on his side.
Oh God... what was the matter with her? Mary sighed, looking up at the darkened ceiling.
It's nothing, she attempted to assured herself. Plenty of people had sex dreams about their friends and it didn't mean anything. Google told her the same thing, yet Mary couldn't quite shake the feeling that this was no longer nothing.