December 20: All is Calm, All is Bright

Pairing: Edith/Michael

Rating: T for precursor to sexy times *wink wink*

Edith could not believe her luck, even as she sat on the train during the lengthy ride to London. However Michael had persuaded her father to allow her to come was unfathomable, but she couldn't be happier – except when she saw Michael Gregson as soon as she stepped onto the platform. Goodness, how long had it been since she had seen him?

"Hello, darling," greeted Michael, planting a kiss on her cheek. "I'm so glad you're here."

"So am I," Edith said. Michael took her hand and walked with her off the platform. Edith held onto Michael's dry hand, and looked up at his face. He seemed tired, albeit pleased to see her. She wondered if Michael was carrying troubles that he had not told her about.

"Are you alright?" she asked him.

"Me? I'm perfectly well. I've been anxious to see you, that's all," he said.

Edith, though unconvinced, smiled and patted his arm.

"You know, I haven't even started decorating," Michael said, sitting beside Edith in his car. The chauffeur lurched the car forward.

"Oh?"

"I have a tree ready, but I was hoping you'd help advise me on how to properly trim it," Michael said. "I've never been good at that sort of thing. Besides, I imagine you're expert at it, having that large tree up in your home."

"My sister did most of the decorating this year," Edith said. "But I'll be more than happy to help you with anything you need."

Michael chuckled. "You're not here to do all the work. I want you here so neither of us are lacking in attention at Christmas."

"I'll still help, anyway," said Edith. "I like being busy, even at Christmas. I feel like I'm making my mark when I work. And I'm simply glad to spend Christmas somewhere else for once. It always seems the same, year after year. I'm quite jealous that Mary is in New York, as she doesn't have to put up with the same old traditions at Downton."

"Sometimes those traditions are nice, though," Michael said. "Eating good food, being with family, racking your brains to find the perfect gift. It's sort of comforting, knowing that at this time of year you can return to good times."

"I'm ready for something new, even if it is just for one year," Edith said.

Michael's home was a little large for a man living without anyone else except a cook and a housekeeper, but with the two of them, it was perfectly cosy. Edith like the contrast to Downton or Grantham house, that it wasn't overly large, and every room could be used daily by two people. Edith had never stayed overnight, so she was not sure what to expect for bedding, but the guest bedroom and bathroom were well kept – and modernly furnished. The whole of Michael's home did not have a speck of the old-fashioned or tasteless. Evidently, a friend must have advised him on furniture choice. But, as Michael had warned her, there was hardly a string of lights or Christmas figurine to be seen, save for the naked tree in the window of the front room.

"God, I have my work cut out for me," Edith breathed, no sooner had she put up her coat in the closet. "Where do you keep your ornaments?"

"Slow down, Edith," Michael said. "Do you need something to eat? Would you like a drink?"

"I need something to work with," Edith said. "I swear I'm going to make your house beautiful by Christmas if it kills me."

"Then I'll help you get those ornaments from the basement, because I'm not going to let you work yourself to death," Michael said.

The sky over London had darkened, but the interior of Michael's home was now lit with soft yellow lights strung around the Christmas tree. Large spheres of every color hung from the branches, along with a newly-bought angel that Michael had rushed out to buy when he realized he did not have a tree topper.

Now the two of them sat, glasses of wine in hand, admiring the fruits of Edith's labor. She had not sat down at all during the four hours of running back and forth from the tree to the ornament boxes and back, but she did not care. There was evidence of Christmas cheer in Michael's home now, and she loved the simplicity of it. Elsewhere, there were homes (including her home) that covered every surface in garlands and the like, but the sophisticated tree here was lovely enough.

"I've never seen you so determined to make something beautiful," Michael said. "Do you work the same when writing?"

"Sometimes," Edith replied. "When I think in my head of something to write, I have to type fast so I don't lose the thought. I never notice if I do the same in other areas, though."

She took a sip of wine. "By the way, I've wanted to ask … how did you convince my father to stop being such a prison warden to me?"

Michael laughed, with a hint of discomfort at recalling the difficult conversation with Robert Crawley.

"First and foremost, your father is not trying to be a prison warden, even if that is what he seems. I myself would be apprehensive about allowing my daughter to sleep in the house of a boyfriend who is hardly romantic material —"

"Stop that, Michael," chided Edith. "You sound like some self-pitying codger. You have enough romantic material in you to please me."

Michael went on. "I didn't say anything especially heroic or profound to Robert. All I said was – I can't remember the exact words, but I told him along the line of I want you to be happy and safe, all the things that he wants for you. I did not push you to join me, and I would stand behind any decision you made. But in truth, I don't know why your father relented."

"I still don't believe he's satisfied," Edith said. "He have to live with me going against his will, though."

"Just remember, your father loves you," Michael said. Then, leaning towards Edith, he gave her a soft, drawn-out kiss. "And so do I."

Edith pretended to shy away. "Oh Michael, now you think you're a romance expert?"

Michael shrugged, but Edith took his glass, set it down on the floor, and gave him one more kiss, savoring the wine taste staining his mouth. She caressed his jawline, not noticing what she was doing at all until he leaned back against the arm of the sofa, bring Edith down with him.

"What is it?" Michael asked when Edith drew back and frowned.

"Should we —?" she stammered.

"Why are you asking me?" questioned Michael.

"I just — " began Edith, but she fell silent when she realized she actually had nothing to say. She was tongue-tied for once.

With nothing else to do with her mouth, she brought it down to Michael's again, stroking some part of his body, pressing down against his warm skin. She felt him bring his arm and encircle her shoulders, keeping her pinned against him.

She did not have a single misgiving, not even one hidden deep in the recesses of her mind.