A/N: So like two years ago I started a Fluff/Kinktober challenge. Clearly that went super well as this is number five. But there are a few fluff prompts which I assigned to A/B so I'll post them here as a collection as and when I finish them. Which might be another two years down the line, who knows, because the next suitable one is fourteen.
Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey.
1. Fantasy
They sit close together beneath the evening sky, on the hill that overlooks Downton's quaint village. Anna likes it here. It's been her safe spot for so many years.
And now she's sharing it with someone else.
John sits beside her, his bad leg stretched out in front of him to prevent it from seizing up. She knows he'll have a difficult time getting back up and likely he will be sore in the morning, but he didn't hesitate when she asked him here.
Her heart contracts.
There's no one she'd rather be here with more.
Her husband. The man of her dreams.
They're finally free to live the life they deserve, without worry or strife. It will take some time for prison to become a distant memory to them, a healed scar, but there's been a start now that they're living together in their very own cottage.
Domestic bliss, that's what it's been. Completely and utterly. They receive sour looks from Thomas and Miss O'Brien every day but Anna learned long ago how to ignore them and John is getting better at it too.
She reaches across for his hand now, unable to resist the urge.
It's something she's still getting used to, touching him whenever she likes. For so long they've been regimented by prison; she remembers the first time she visited him there, how she had involuntarily reached for his hand when he took the seat opposite her, her heart fracturing at the sight of him so grimy and unkempt when she'd been so used to seeing him carefully constructed for his role of esteem…and how the prison guard had barked at her with such venom, so loudly that it had made her jump, and how John's expression had darkened…
He's still getting used to being touched too. Gentleness in prison is a thing that doesn't exist, and so he flinches whenever she brushes against him before he relaxes, realising it's just her. But they'll get there. She knows they will. How can they not? They love each other. No matter what happens, that will never change. It can get them through anything.
"Thank you for coming with me," she says, squeezing his hand. His fingers are so warm twined with hers, thick and strong and safe.
"I would go anywhere with you," he replies softly, turning his head to look at her. "If you asked me to go to the ends of the earth I'd do it in a heartbeat."
"Charmer," she teases, but knows it's true. John is that kind of man, sincere in his every action. She sobers, turning to look at the rolling blackness in front of them. "I've never told you about this place, have I?"
"No," John says.
"I'm sorry about that."
"Why should you be sorry? You've had your own life up until now."
"Not much of one, really, have I? I'm a working class woman. That's almost the lowest of the low."
"Don't say that. You could never be insignificant."
He has no idea, not really. How could he? How can she explain those things to him? To admit that she isn't as good as he thinks she is, that there are things in her past that belong in a horror novel?
She suppresses them instead, pretends that those memories aren't really hers.
She got good at doing that over the years.
"Anna?"
Anna shakes herself, realising that she's been drifting on unpleasant memories. She forces a smile, prying them back in the box. "I'm all right."
"Are you sure?"
"How could I not be when I have you back with me?"
He chuckles at that, lifting his arm and wrapping it around her shoulder, pulling her closer to his side. She settles against him, turning her attention to the night sky.
"I discovered this place not long after my dad's death," she says. "It was something I couldn't understand and my mum was so sad all of the time. So I used to come out of the house to escape that, and I'd walk for miles. Mum was too caught up in her grief to notice, otherwise she never would have let me roam like that, but she did, and one day I found myself here. It was the furthest I'd ever travelled by myself. I could see so much more than I'd ever thought possible. That first night I was convinced that the world was gigantic. It is, of course, but the world to me then was Downton. To see the village from up here…it was magical."
"It is rather magical," he agrees. She watches as he gets comfortable, spread-eagled on his back to contemplate the stars above their heads. She's grateful that he doesn't snoop or dig into the past. That is a festered wound, and to unbandage it would be to allow its foulness back into the world, to let it poison her all over again. She follows his lead, collapsing on her back beside him. The cool grass tickles her ears as it sways gently in the breeze, its freshness dancing in her nostrils.
"I used to sit in this very spot and make up stories about what my future might be," she continues.
"Oh?" John chuckles. "What did little Anna Smith think the world had in store for her, then?"
"Nothing that could come true." Her dad coming back to her, and later, her stepfather disappearing into the night never to be heard of again.
"Care to share?"
Not those bits, not yet, perhaps not ever, but there are parts of her soul that she can bare to him. "Well, I used to imagine all sorts of fanciful things, like being a girl knight, like one of King Arthur's. I used to dream of mounting my own horse and riding off to battle with my sword in hand, ready to slay any fearsome dragon that might dare to stand in my way."
"And were they any handsome princes in these visions?"
"Only the ones who needed me to rescue them," she winks, and he laughs, a deep, rich sound that she hasn't heard in so long.
"I can imagine you being very good at that," he says. "You rescued me. Though I'm not prince material. More like the frog."
"Don't say that," she scolds. "You're my prince." Which might sound ridiculous, but it's true. He rescued her as much as she rescued him. She might not have needed rescuing, for she'd been content with her lot before meeting him, but his love had undoubtedly changed her life for the better nevertheless. And the chance to know real love has been worth all the hardships she's ever faced, and whatever hardship might be in their future.
"You are one-of-a-kind," he says fondly. "I bet there aren't many girls dreaming of such things. Or are allowed to, rather."
"Society is intent on keeping us silent."
"I hope you know I would never silence you, Anna."
"I know that. You never have. The fact you value my opinion…"
"I will always value your opinion. In fact, it's guaranteed to be better than mine. How many times have you shown that already?"
"I don't know about that."
"I do. I'd still be in prison if it wasn't for you. You did what no police officer could do. Or my lawyer, for that matter."
Anna purses her lips. "I'm not sure how competent Mr. Murray was."
"Criminal law isn't his speciality."
"It's not mine, either."
John laughs. "Perhaps you've found your calling. Private Investigator. I could be your trusty sidekick."
"I think we'd make a very good team. Brains and brawn."
"God, I love you," he says, and her heart soars. There had been a time when she had almost had to pull the words from his mouth like a tooth must be tugged out from the root, the act so painful it was almost not worth it.
Almost.
She would bear anything for him.
"I love you too," she echoes, and settles back in his arms, returning her gaze to the stars above them.
Orion, Sirius, Vega. A million tapestries that can be weaved throughout time, countless starts that can be joined together to construct one epic tale. Anything could be seen in those stars if someone looked hard enough. Fire breathing dragons, heroic wars that spanned across continents. Stories of triumph and tragedy, of joy and heartbreak. Anna had constructed them all in her time, the lonely heroine that would save the world.
Over time she had realised that she would never be that person. This world would never allow it. And that had been a difficult thing to take. To know that she was insignificant, unloved. To know she wasn't special, no matter what her father may have crooned.
But then she had met John.
And suddenly all of those stupid dreams had become a reality. Being a saving grace. Writing her own story. Winning.
It isn't like those grand tales of old, with magic and monsters. But Anna finds she doesn't care, not anymore.
She sits up slightly, enough that she can lean over to kiss her husband, his mouth soft and yielding beneath her own.
Why should she care about those silly fantasies anymore?
Her reality is so much sweeter.