"Come on, Alfred, don't always have to be such a bore," Jimmy teased him, "Ivy, you'll come won't you?" He flashed his best smile that made Ivy simper with her love-sick doe eyes. It wasn't yet supper for the servants, but Jimmy obviously had plans for his evening.

Thomas smirked at his newspaper, Jimmy knew how to tug Alfred around, Ivy too for that matter.

"Where are we goin', Jimmy?" Ivy asked. As if she'd ever say no to him. Thomas realized that was rich, coming from him.

Jimmy lowered his voice to his best seductive little whisper, "I nicked some whiskey, we're goin' out to the shed behind the stables."

Thomas' stomach churned with something uncomfortably close to jealousy. Not only was he too old and too highly placed as under-butler to be invited, but they never would have invited him anyway. Maybe Jimmy would have, but he wasn't inviting him now.

"You'll come, won't you Alfred?" Ivy asked the other footman, earning a nervous nod.

Jimmy, damn him, smiled, glancing up and catching Thomas' eyes. The sideways glance designed to make Thomas feel like a conspirator. But not an invited one. Thomas looked back to his paper. A fool for the fluttering in his stomach.

The younger set spent their supper time snickering to each other with the knowledge of their impending escapade. Jimmy must have known Thomas had overheard them but he didn't even ask him not to tell Carson. He didn't have to ask, Thomas would never consider it. For God's sake, a smile from Jimmy would have had Thomas forgiving him for murder.

Thomas himself had no prospect of spending his evening sneaking off into the dark with cigarettes and whiskey and a few decks of cards, girl in tow. He turned in early to avoid seeing them slink away one by one, or watch Jimmy's flirting with Ivy. He wanted to be alone.

He was stopped before he was halfway up the stairs by a hand on sleeve. He turned, helpless against Jimmy, who smiled up at him from three steps down. "Thomas?"

His stomach flipped around, joyful as always when Jimmy spoke to him privately.

"Jimmy, sounds like you're going to have fun."

He shrugged and cocked an eyebrow impishly, as if he just couldn't help sneaking out. "Can I talk to you after?"

"That'll be late, can't we-" he couldn't bring himself to finish the suggestion to talk in the morning, "Yes, we can talk after."

"I'll come to your room."

Thomas' heart beat under his ribs, he was afraid Jimmy would hear it, "I'll be awake."

Jimmy flashed him another irresistible smile and disappeared down the stairs.

Thomas fled to his room, bolting the door so that he could be alone to wait. He smoked too many cigarettes, started a book and could not focus on it. He paced like a pathetic boy. What was it Jimmy wanted to talk about? Did he want to appease Thomas for being left out? Did he have something to say he could only attempt after a night of whiskey drinking? Thomas had to force his imagination to turn away thoughts of Jimmy coming into his room with love confessions, to tug him by the lapels and kiss him, to back him toward his own bed.

It was past midnight when he heard Jimmy and his little entourage stumbling back up the stairs. The girls, of course, had gone up to the women's hallway, but it was hard to miss Jimmy, Alfred, and a couple of the older hallboys stumbling and giggling up to their bedrooms. If they weren't careful they'd wake Carson. Thomas had already started to think of how he would get Jimmy out of that spot of trouble if the need arose.

Thomas wondered if Jimmy was a handsy drunk. He reproached himself for the thought immediately. Besides, he knew what Jimmy was like drunk, he was an idiot who did things he regretted. Thirsk for example.

Thomas felt like a silly fool with how badly he wanted to be among the boys in the hall. Not among them so much as out with Jimmy, drink making his golden cheeks pink, arm slung around Thomas' shoulders. He shoved that thought away. They were friends now. That was plenty enough. More than he had any right to.

Jimmy certainly made him wait, it was another forty-five minutes before the knock came at his door.

He unbolted it, cursing softly as Jimmy almost fell into his arms, having been leaning heavily on the wood.

"Didn't want to take any longer?" he asked, absolutely bewildered to have Jimmy at such close proximity. He was torn between re-bolting the door so Jimmy could have privacy in whatever he needed and wanting to leave it wide open to dispel any impropriety in Jimmy being here.

"Close the sodding door," Jimmy said, fixing Thomas with too much eye contact. So much for the giggling camaraderie Thomas had heard on the stairs. Jimmy radiated ferocious energy, an angry dog with a snapped leash. The romantic imaginings he'd been fighting burned up like paper.

"As you like," Thomas said, shutting the door and bolting it.

Jimmy tossed himself into Thomas' chair and tipped his head back. Other than the livid crease in his brow, he looked like a Grecian statue. "I'm so bloody angry."

Thomas smirked and sat across from Jimmy on his bed. He held himself carefully casual. He could still hope that this would turn into trading the last sips of whiskey and complaining bitterly of how much of an oaf Alfred was. "What's got you angry, Jimmy?"

Jimmy heaved himself up and loomed over Thomas, "You."

Thomas held himself very still to prevent himself from flinching. Where had this mood materialized? Thomas had heard him laughing just an hour ago, "Whatever are you on about, James?"

"Don't call me bloody 'James,'" he snarked, "You can't call me that." He clenched his eyes shut against the dizziness of too much liquor and braced himself on the bed post. "I was going to- then I sat in my room and had the rest of the whiskey and I got so angry."

"What are you angry about, James?" He repeated.

Jimmy's eyes were like raging fires, "I told you not to call me that."

"Why ever not?"

Jimmy glared at him, stalking toward him, "You kissed me, I was asleep and you fucking kissed me."

Red painted Thomas' cheeks, "I- I'm sorry about that, Jimmy. As I've said. I- I thought maybe you'd- after Thirsk."

"Yeah yeah- you got your sodding ass kicked for me, and you think after that I just forget that you-" he let his hand wander in the air, so apparently angry he could not find words, "I just forget you came into my room and kissed me when I was asleep and let fucking Alfred go on about it? Thought you were supposed to be the smart one."

"I understand that you're angry at my… indiscretion," Thomas said, hating that he could not bring his voice above a whisper. Lord above, Jimmy yelling at him was far worse than those thugs beating him under that bridge.

Jimmy shoved him by the shoulder, meeting no resistance, "You left my door open you sodding prick, and didn't even wake me up. Had to put it all together while Alred was going on about it all."

"...I have said I was sorry about kissing you, I don't know what else you want me to say to you." He would have said anything. He would have humiliated himself if it meant Jimmy forgiving him.

Jimmy paced back and forth, finally turning on him, his golden hair falling over his forehead. Thomas had no right to think it, but he looked so fetching, "I told you, didn't I. I'm angry you were so stupid about it. Don't I get a blasted say in who kisses me? Who kisses people in their sleep? What are you, some sort of lech?"

Thomas had to turn away and school his features away from tears. He thought he and Jimmy were something like friends, he wished Jimmy had given some indication of how angry he was. He might have prepared himself. "I'm… I shouldn't have kissed you, Jimmy. I- I misread-"

"Fuck you," Jimmy spat.

Thomas nearly broke. Anger alone he could have withstood. But there was a terrible little stutter in Jimmy's voice, and it had gotten so high pitched. Dear Lord, Jimmy was about to cry. What the hell was Thomas supposed to do if Jimmy cried? And a year later. Had this emotion simmered all this time?

"Are you a lech or what? Why'd you do it?"

His own anger leapt up, not real anger, but the only defense he had against tears from Jimmy. Tears he had no ability to survive. He felt the frigid, sharp cruelty he used to feel before Jimmy. When he would get angry and hurt and want to watch people as he destroyed them. He shoved Jimmy away from him, "Christ, Kent, I can't change what I've done. You know what I was about. Not my fault you're pretty as an Adonis."

Jimmy looked like he had been struck. Not just that, my God he looked as if Thomas had slid a knife between his ribs. His eyes were brimming with tears. Thomas regretted what he had said immediately. Before this, he would have put money on thinking that Jimmy's anger was the worst thing to be endured, but he would have been wrong. This look of hurt and humiliation was worse.

Jimmy's bottom lip quivered and Thomas thought he would die.

"Don't worry, Thomas, I'm putting it together now, good and proper," he said. He no longer sounded angry in the least. He sounded small, wounded. As if Thomas had betrayed him.

Thomas felt Jimmy's emotions like a knife to the belly.

Jimmy wasn't finished, "You wanted a pretty little thing to bugger and there I was, sleeping in my bed." Breaking Thomas' heart, he swiped at his eyes, "Let me out, Barrow."

"Jimmy," he gasped, heart shattering so badly he fancied he could feel it lacerating him like glass. "O'Brien said-"

"I don't give a toss what anybody said to you," Jimmy cut him off, scrambling away from him, "I didn't get to say a sodding thing, did I? I was asleep."

Thomas reached out to him but Jimmy knocked his hand away. His golden face was split apart, tears Thomas never would have been able to imagine slicing down his cheeks. Even in this he was beautiful, his lips red and turned down, his nose and cheeks pink, his eyes wide and hurt.

Thomas was not able to do anything, not able to pull a single word together as he watched the layers close over the wound he'd been shown. Anger covering over the throbbing hurt, a cool smirk over the anger. If it weren't for the tear tracks on his cheeks and the red rims of his eyes, Thomas might almost believe Jimmy had come into his room to tease him. All said, the tears had lasted less than a minute.

"Anyway," Jimmy said, overly cavalier, "G'night then, Mr. Barrow." He turned and left, closing the door behind him and leaving Thomas alone.