Today is another day of 2 fics. Thank you all for your lovely reviews!

Snow Angels
by Edward Carson

The morning was bright and crisp, made the more so by a new-fallen snow that had blanketed the village and transformed the fields of Downton into a winter landscape at last.

"I thought we were going to have a green Christmas," Elsie Carson said, picking her way along the path to the Abbey that the hard-working farm labourers on the estate who did the seasonal work had already cleared. She did not have to be very careful, for she had a tight hold on her husband's hand and he was as solid as a rock.

"Spare us the tragedy of a green Christmas!" he intoned.

"Hardly a tragedy," she said mildly, but she didn't want to argue with him, so she changed the subject. "It must have been a lovely place to grow up, Downton."

"I had a glorious boyhood," Charlie declared, smiling fondly in remembrance. "With a father working on the estate, I had the run of the place. You had to stay out of the family's way, of course, but there were plenty of places to be that they weren't." He stopped as though he could recall it better when standing still. "What fun we had on such a winter's day," he said, almost absently. And then he became quite animated again and tightened his hand over his wife's. "Elsie," there was a wheedling tone to his voice, "would you indulge me in something?"

She was immediately alert. "That depends. What?"

He grinned at her. "Let's make snow angels."

She stared. "Charlie Carson. I'm on my way to work. I'm dressed for a day's employment, not games."

But he had that glint in his eye. "Come on," he coaxed.

And a minute later they were sitting in a patch of pristine snow, beside each other but with ample room between them for angel's wings.

"You remember how to do this?" he asked.

She sighed in exasperation. "I remember how. I'm not that old, thank you very much. I just don't know why I'm doing this. I'll be soaked." She glared at him. "The things you talk me into, Charlie Carson."

Mrs. Patmore was coming up from the home farm. She could have sent Daisy or a hall boy to fetch eggs, but she wanted to get out and go for a walk on such a nice morning. She didn't get out that much. She saw the Carsons ahead of her. They made such a nice couple. Marriage had transformed that man. And retirement had helped. Mrs. Carson pretended that she hadn't changed a bit, but marriage had softened her sharper edges, too. They had become people, with a life of their own, apart from their work in service.

She might have called out to them. A voice would carry well across the snow. But she didn't, enjoying watching them instead. And when they stopped, she stopped. And then they did the strangest thing.

It was his idea, Mrs. Patmore was sure of that. The Second Coming would arrive before Mrs. Carson came up with that. But fancy Mr. Carson unbuttoning so! Mrs. Patmore watched them in the snow and she laughed. And she laughed harder when they got up and Mrs. Carson was clearly scolding her husband. But he only laughed himself and helped her dust off the snow. And then they headed away toward the Abbey.

Mrs. Patmore followed more slowly. And then she came upon the imprints in the snow and she paused.

Thomas had business in the village and he insisted that Andy come along. He could make such arrangements now that he was the butler.

"I grew up in the East End," Andy reminded him, as they set off along the path to the village. "Where would I find a patch of snow to make one? I'm surprised that you ever did it as a kid. Manchester's a city, too."

"We had parks," Thomas said pointedly. "So does London."

"Have you ever been to the East End?" Andy didn't wait for an answer. "I didn't think angels were your cup of tea either."

"I was a choirboy," Thomas quipped, unable to dampen the exuberance he felt. It was the air. There was something special about the air on a crisp winter day in the country. "Snow angels aren't about angels. They're about playing in the snow! But there is a bit of a trick to it. I'll show you."

Andy stared after Thomas, bewildered. When had he ever seen such a playful side to the man?

"Come over here!" Thomas called. "This looks like…." He had darted on ahead of Andy and then suddenly come to a halt, staring at a patch of snow where the smooth surface had been broken.

Andy came up beside him and looked at the patterns in the snow. "Snow angels?" he asked doubtfully.

Thomas pointed a gloved hand at the middle impression, a very clear imprint that mimicked the conventional image of an angel. "That one, perhaps. I'd say this one," he pointed to the one on the right, "is more like a snow hippopotamus. And as for that one," he regarded the one on the left, "definitely a snow whale."

His companion was frowning. "I don't understand. How do you make a snow whale?"

Thomas smirked. "I wouldn't know." But then his playfulness returned. "Let me show you how to do this properly!"

Snow Angels
by imnotokaywiththerunning

The snow was just frozen enough to make a satisfying crunch when one stepped on it and the air was just this side of cold not to be biting. It was perfect winter weather in Tom's opinion. Sybbie and George ran ahead of them, jumping to catch snowflakes on their tongues. Their excitement was infectious and Tom turned a toothy grin to Mary.

"Don't even think about it," she warned, keeping her eyes straight ahead on the children.

"Don't even think about what?" he asked, shooting her a doe-eyed look belied by his cheeky grin.

"You'll not be throwing any snow at me if you know what's good for you."

Tom laughed loudly and Goerge and Sybbie ran up to tackle his legs.

"Let's make snow angels, Papa!" Sybbie shouted. George joined her in jumping up and down, pulling on Tom's coat.

"All right, all right," he laughed, grabbing their hands and pulling them off the path into the snow. Sybbie flopped gracelessly into the snow, her arms spread wide. Tom helped George to lay down beside her. They giggled as the cold of the snow began to seep through their clothes. Tom turned back to Mary watching them from the path. "Come on, Mary. Make snow angels with us."

"You can make one for me."

Tom rolled his eyes. He hadn't expected her to lay down in the snow, but it had been worth a shot. He dropped to the ground beside Sybbie and started making a snow angel with his daughter and nephew. The snow was cold and wet but the laughter from the children was infectious. He hadn't made snow angels since he was a boy.

Suddenly he was hit with a face full of snow. He sputtered the snow out of his mouth and sat up to see Mary almost bent over in uncontrollable laughter. He gaped at her in shock. "Did you just-?"

Instead of answering, she bent down and scooped up another handful of snow and threw it at him. He dodged the snowball and made one of his own, tossing it in her direction as he rolled to his feet. George and Sybbie leapt up with him, giggling as snow was hurtled their way, too.