Why are you wearing my knickers Cobert Drabble Request

It had all been Lord Shackleton's fault. If Philip hadn't suggested it, he wouldn't have even tried it at all. He wouldn't have even dared touch it with a ten foot pole. He wouldn't have come near it, out of fear that his wife would find out—or anyone for that matter.

Of course, it would be right to place blame on himself as well. He had foolishly listened to that bloody man. He'd admit that he had always been curious, and he'd sated that curiosity in the most thoughtless way possible.

He should have known better than to meddle with any of this. Having grown up with a sister should have taught him better than to try and understand the intricacies of women and everything entailed of being one. But he hadn't learned. And now, a wife and three young daughters later, he still hadn't known better.

He was tempted to call for his mother and ask her to have him sent to dinner without supper himself, if only he wouldn't be found in such a compromising and incredibly embarrassing situation. He also wanted to ring for his valet, but then he would have to explain how he got himself in this entanglement and that did not seem to sit well with him. He would, undoubtedly, be the topic of conversation upstairs and downstairs, not only for the night or the next day, but for months.

He groaned in frustration.

He was the Earl of Grantham, for God's sakes. He was a full grown, dignified and well respected man. And yet, he found himself in his dressing room, his wife's knickers uncomfortably and awkwardly resting against his hips, seemingly bursting out of its seams. And all this because he was dim enough to try what Lord Shackleton had suggested to be 'the most comfortable garment he'd tried in his life'.

The trick, as Philip had said, was to not let his wife find out, but Robert, for the life of him, could not think of how he was going to hide this from his wife. The only way, it seemed, to contain the embarrassment in the bedroom was to call his wife and ask for her help.

Robert looked down on his reflection once more to where the knickers were stuck. He was determined not to have to call for his wife. He was able to put this thing on, he could also take this thing off. But this task was quickly proving to be quite the task. It had not been easy to pull it up, but pushing it down seemed to be even more difficult. He really had no clue how he'd gotten it as far up as it had in the first place.

Pulling it down once again, he groaned. He should have never tried it on. He really should not have. It had been foolish, so very foolish. But he had been curious. The garment had indeed looked comfortable, unlike his own. But it was not, as he had found out the hard way.

Lord Shackleton had been very wrong, those damned knickers were not comfortable. And the trick was to never try it on.

As he mulled over the ways in which he could get the garment off with the least damage possible, there came a knock on the door adjoining his and his wife's room. He knew that it could not be anyone but Cora. It was a very distinct knock—soft but very firm—it could only be described as hers. He blushed scarlet as his heart started beating faster. He knew he had not locked the door, having not really anticipated his wife's intrusion as he continued on with his shenanigans. He had been sure she spent this time with their daughters—especially since Sybil, at the very tender age of three, seemed to be in more mischief than her two sisters had been in, in that age, combined.

Carson must have mentioned him being there, and his wife, always eager to spend a little more time with him, had come trudging to his room. And now, unknowingly, she was about to face something that nightmares were made of.

"Just a mom-," he yelled out too late, as the door swung open and his wife's happy smile greeted him.

If he was already blushing at her first knock, he was sure that he was as red as a lobster now, and a little more would prompt his wife to call the doctor. He watched through the mirror as his wife's wide smile turned into a look of horror.

She was horrified.

And who wouldn't be?

The silence enveloped the room, as his wife's jaw slackened, and a lump lodged in his throat—leaving them both unable to speak. He could barely breathe, but he could hear his heart thumping so wildly against his chest. He could hear the blood pumping in his ears.

And he noticed that as red as he was, his wife was equally pale.

This was definitely not how he'd imagined seeing his wife—at any time. He would not have minded nakedness, as long as it wasn't this kind of nakedness. And he would definitely not have minded the sight of those horrible knickers, if he was seeing them on his wife, not on him, and he was just about to remove themfrom her body, not his.

He watched as Cora's mouth opened, and then closed again, her eyebrows furrowing as if she was looking for the words to say, or to describe the situation. Funnily enough, there were no words to describe this situation, and there were none to say. Awkward would not begin to cut it, and 'I'm sorry' didn't seem to be enough.

Robert noticed how thunderous Cora's eyes looked. He was certain he was just about to get some tongue-lashing.

Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, willing this to be only a nightmare. But that was not meant to be. Suddenly, he heard a loud, cackling laugh from behind him. Opening his eyes again, he stared at his wife in horror. She was still at the door, clutching the wall beside it as she was doubled over in laughter. She was gasping for air and falling on her knees as she continued to laugh.

This has got to be the most humiliating experience Robert ever had in his life.

Unbelievable, he thought, as he watched his wife struggling to compose herself but failing. She would try to control it, and then give one glance at him and dissolve again in laughter.

"Enough," he yelled, when he couldn't take it in anymore.

He looked ridiculous, he felt ridiculous, and he was sure that his wife thought him ridiculous.

And bloody hell, this whole situation was ridiculous. He could just about wring Shackleton's neck.

"I'm sorry darling," Cora said as she walked over to him, evidently trying to swallow her giggles. A few escaped her, and her sparkling eyes told Robert that she wasn't at all sorry for him.

"Cora," he hissed in warning. He had made a fool of himself, but he was not about to let his wife laugh in his face again.

"I'm sorry, Robert," Cora said, laughing, as she seemed to have lost it again. He gave her a look that seemed to shush her temporarily. "Forgive me darling, but you—," she stopped speaking as she clamped her mouth together and just pointed at his form.

"Oh, do try and hold it in, Cora, and help me out of this blasted thing," he said angrily, as he tried once again to push the garment down.

It had taken more than half an hour for them to take the thing off, mostly because Cora had collapsed in laughter more than once and it had taken her a few minutes to collect herself. In the end, they had cut the thing into pieces, to get it off of Robert's body. The damage it caused had left the poor little knickers irreparable.

"I'm sorry for laughing, darling," Cora whispered as she slithered up Robert's body.

He clenched his jaw, and turned his head away. "You really aren't," he said just as Cora was to touch his lips with hers. "You enjoyed my misery." Cora bit her lip, obviously struggling to keep herself from laughing. "You must promise me never to speak to anyone about this!"

She shook her head, as she continued to bite her lip.

"Promise me!" Robert insisted.

Clearing her throat and swallowing the laughter bubbling in her throat she nodded. "I swear," she said. She then cocked her head, and continued, a hint of smile already teasing at the edges of her lips, "although, do tell me, I'm curious…Why on earth were you wearing my knickers?"

And she burst out laughing once again.

Fin (3/17/15)

Prompt: Cobert+ "why are you wearing my kickers?"