A/N: So I don't think I ever thought to continue this one but here we are. Ta-da! Enjoy!
Tom wandered through the kitchen with his cup of tea, looking for a spare biscuit or whatever other morsel he could beg off Mrs Patmore. His quest was immediately forgotten, however, when he noticed Lady Sybil and heard her delicious laugh.
He was about to stop and utilise the opportunity to tease when he noticed two things; one, the look of beaming pride she wore as she decorated her cake that Tom couldn't bring himself to shatter; and two, he saw Lady Grantham watching through the window to the hallway. He didn't mind being a little obvious in front of the kitchen staff because the furthest any of their discussion went was gossip amongst themselves. But in front of any of the family, he immediately returned to the routine that was expected of them.
So he wandered back out towards the servants hall so as not to raise suspicion in the eyes of Lady Grantham. When he noticed her heading back upstairs, he sauntered over to the kitchen once again, smirk ready to go. But he found himself foiled once again by of the look of pride on her face. So he stood just behind her and observed the cake.
"Do I get any?" was all he could manage by way of teasing.
She looked up, surprised. "Look, you, I'm very happy with the way this one turned out so I won't be taking any of your nonsense."
"Nonsense?" he replied innocently, "What on earth could you mean, milady? I've been nothing but supportive of your kitchen endeavours." She gave him a pointed look.
"I think you're appreciation of 'support' is different to mine, Branson," she said dryly, "because I wouldn't have said your response to my 'kitchen endeavours' was at all supportive."
"Lady Sybil! I'm quite offended!" he scoffed.
"Watch me weep," her tone still dry.
"So you should," he held her eyes for a moment then looked back down at the cake, "So, how about it? Any for me?"
"No," she huffed, "It's for my mother. And besides, I don't think you deserve any. Not after all your teasing."
Tom put on his best apologetic pout. "Would it help if I said I was sorry?"
"If I believed that you were, I might consider it," Sybil laughed when his pout increased. Knowing he wasn't fooling her he swapped it for a smirk.
"Okay, I'm not sorry at all. I just like to see you blushing and flustered," he grinned when he saw that he had caused yet another blush. He picked up one of the berries she was putting on her cake and popped it in his mouth. Walking away backwards, he watched as Sybil regained her composure to stick her tongue out at him.
He nearly ran into Mr Carson, who told him to pick up the Dowager Countess and bring her here to be early for dinner. Conceding, he turned once more to wink at Sybil – dangerous with Mr Carson having only just turned away and still standing nearby – and see her blush before he disappeared. When he picked up the Countess, she commented on his cheery mood.
"Tis a fine day, milady. No reason to be gloomy." And many, many reasons to be in good spirits.