A/N: I am SO sorry it has taken me so long to update! Between school, writers block, sickness, my brain's been a jumble. Do forgive me!

Chapter 6: The wedding night (RATED M-ish!)

The festivities of the evening were drawing to a close. Robert and Cora had gone to bed, Cousin Violet had been driven home and Isobel was staying at the Big House. All that remained in the parlor were Matthew, Mary, her sisters, and Branson.

"I can't tell you how happy I am for you both, truly." Sybil said, still beaming at her sister and brother-in-law. "And to think, I once had a little crush on you."

Branson's ears perked up at this.

"Oh calm down," Sybil said, merely sensing his objection, "he had defended my honor, a girl can swoon for an hour, can't she?"

Matthew chuckled a bit at this. Sybil corrected the damage by leaning into Branson, who held their infant son asleep on his lap.

"To be honest, I had a bit of a crush myself," Edith chimed in. Mary was getting decidedly uncomfortable, though she knew she had no reason to. This only annoyed her further.

"Heavens, you'll make him think I was the last to the party!" Mary said, trying to use her icy wit to overcompensate for nervousness.

"It was mainly just to spite Mary," Edith corrected, hoping it would satisfy her sister, "No offense," she relayed to Matthew. He shrugged it off.

"Sorry to have disappointed ladies, but there was just something about her complete and utter distaste for me that I couldn't get quite enough of, I'm afraid."

Mary, who was leaning against Matthew's shoulder, looked up at this. She had never heard him speak of that time before, the time before their first kiss, when neither quite knew how the other was feeling at any given moment.

"Oh really?"

"Are you surprised to hear it?" He answered.

"No…no, of course not. I was just so awful to you then. I can't imagine what about me you could've possibly liked."

Edith and Sybil shared a laugh with their sister at this.

"Don't worry. I know it took a little longer for you to get there, but you were bound to succumb to my charm."

Mary made a sound in offense and surprise. She enjoyed these moments of teasing between them. After a moment of thought, however, she drew the white flag.

"True enough, I suppose."

The couple exchanged a sweet look of tenderness before sharing a light kiss.

At that moment, Branson turned to Sybil.

"I think we'd better tuck in. This one's had about enough for one day, I think," he said softly, indicating their sleeping infant, curled in his father's lap. Sybil nodded in agreement, but paused for a moment to give Brason a quick kiss. Love was in the air tonight, she wanted to remind her husband that she still felt like a newlywed with him.

"I think Tom and I are off to bed," Sybil announced formally to those present. Everyone stood and bid each other goodnight. The last to embrace were Sybil and Mary.

"Congratulations, my dear sister," the youngest whispered to the eldest. She leaned in close and added, "Have a good night. God knows you've earned it."

The sisters shared a mischievous laugh, but genuine as well. Sybil spoke the truth, and though no one was saying it, the general energy of the room suggested 'let's leave these two alone.' With that, Sybil and Branson carried their son from the parlor, followed by Edith.

Matthew and Mary turned to each other. There was suddenly a palpable tension in the room. They were completely alone and were keenly aware of the final step that awaited them on this, their wedding night.

"The car will be back by now…to bring us home – or, to my house, that is." Matthew struggled to hide his nervousness. Mary found it terribly sweet. She was certainly a bit uneasy as well. Of course, it wasn't that they weren't aching with anticipation at the prospect of finally being together, but their excitement was so great that they feared if they expressed it too enormously, the other would run off. Their courtesy for each other's feelings and comfort were once again trumping their more fundamental desires.

"All of your things are there and settled, I imagine. Anna brought them earlier." Matthew mentioned.

"Very good…And your mother is staying here tonight, you know." This was as subtle as Mary cared to be at articulating that they would have absolute privacy at the Crawley house.

"Right. She mentioned that earlier."

After another moment of silence, Matthew was struck with an idea. He knew they both needed just another slight push in order to really embrace this moment they had been waiting for for so long, and free themselves of any burden of expectation.

"Here, come with me," he said, holding out his hand. Mary was intrigued, and took it, walking with him into the front hall. He stepped away from her toward the gramophone and began rifling through records.

"What are you doing?" Mary asked with a bemused look on her face. He was very determined in his actions. He didn't respond immediately.

"HERE it is!" he exclaimed. Matthew bustled around the table and exchanged the record in his hand with the one already on the player.

"What is it?" Mary was full of curiosity.

"You'll see." Matthew gingerly placed the needle on the record. He stepped toward Mary and held out his arms. She weaved herself into the waltz position with Matthew as the familiar song began to play.

"Sometimes when I feel low
and things look blue

I wish a pal I had, say one like you…"

Mary chuckled lightly as she recognized it.

"It's our song. Do you remember?" Matthew asked, even though he knew she did.

"Of course. I thought I'd seen a ghost when you walked in."

"Someone within my heart to build a throne

Someone who'd never part, to call my own…"

"I remember your face. I don't think I've ever seen anyone so relieved to see me, or quite so shocked."

"And yet you claim you didn't know I still loved you?"

"If you were the only girl in the world

And I were the only boy…"

At this, Matthew had to blush.

"You had just accepted Carlisle…Besides, I thought you'd gone off me after I turned you away."

Mary was so tired of all this. It seemed like all they did was remind themselves of the past, and even when it was a happy thing, like now, there was always a regret close by, one that still hurt them both.

"Matthew, when are you going to understand. I never once stopped. I have loved you faithfully for the last eight years."

Mary's eyes were full of love as she placed a hand to his cheek.

"I am your wife. You don't have to ask these questions ever again. You've never needed to in the first place."

Matthew sighed, knowing she was right.

"I'm sorry…I'm…" but he couldn't think of what else to say, "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. This isn't a night to be sorry for anything."

With that, they smiled warmly at each other and continued dancing. In the silence, Mary found her leaning her head against his, so their cheeks were touching, flush against one another. It was such a simple, yet shockingly intimate sensation. She became acutely aware of the heat between their bodies so close to one another. Slowly, she pulled her cheek from his and looked to him, hoping he too was sensing that it was almost time to leave.

In this silence, Matthew and Mary gazed unblinkingly at one another, their faces hardly an inch apart. They were dancing, but hadn't noticed that the music had stopped long ago. She remembered the last time they were in this position, just before Lavinia came down the stairs and witnessed the event Matthew had believed killed her. How far he had come since then. How glad Mary was for it.

Overwhelmed by their love, and reminded that they were at last husband and wife and nothing, truly nothing, was holding them back any longer, they kissed. It was a kiss such as they had never shared before: passionate, confident, not caring if it produced any consequences because for once, they knew it wouldn't. It was a kiss that signified a lifetime of kisses just like it.

As it grew and deepened, they wordlessly agreed that it was finally time to give in to the desire they had felt for each other since long before the war.

Mary barely parted her lips from Matthew's and whispered, almost breathless, "Let's go."

In the car, they struggled to keep their hands to themselves, but they knew that if they could simply be patient just a little longer, it would make the moment all the more exquisite. They had waited eight years, surely a matter of minutes wouldn't kill them now.

When the car arrived, Matthew helped Mary out, excusing the chauffeur. They wanted to be as unaware as possible that there were other people in the world right now than each other.

As they entered the house, they were greeted by Molesley and, to Mary's pleasant surprise, Anna.

"Anna? What are you doing here?"

"I am your ladyship's maid aren't I?" Anna said with a smirk.

Mary smiled, thankful to have her friend here with her. Though she wouldn't admit it, certainly not now, Mary was a bit nervous. Anna's presence was a comfort to say the least.

Matthew followed Molesley and Mary followed Anna as husband and wife retreated to their dressing quarters.

"I hope you weren't forced to come down here, I'm sure I could have managed," said Mary once they were behind closed doors.

"Nonsense, m'lady. After what you did for Mr. Bates and I on our wedding night, it was the least I could do to repay you."

"Well I'm glad you're here."

"How are you feeling?"

Anna was the only person close to Mary who really understood everything she had been through with Matthew. The two had shared plenty of heartache together as they watched the men they loved struggle without being able to help them as they felt it was their duty to.

"Like I've been waiting my whole life for this."

"Forgive me for asking, but…does Matthew know about Mr. Pamuk?"

Mary gave it a long thought. She considered that she was approaching this night as 'damanged goods' yet somehow the idea of comparing what she had had with Pamuk to what she was about to have with Matthew seemed nothing short of absurd. Nevertheless, it was not the most pleasant reminder.

"Yes, he does. We've put it behind us."

"Of course. He loves you."

Mary nodded in appreciation of this wonderful fact. Anna helped Mary into her nightgown and dressing robe. She was about to begin putting her hair in a braid when Mary stopped her.

"No," she said, putting her hand up, "leave it down. He's never seen me with it down."

There was something innocent and girlish about the way Mary spoke. She was quiet, in a subdued excitement. Tonight would be the beginning of something entirely new. She would fall asleep in Matthew's arms, she would wake up beside him. Even something as small as being able to loosen her hair down in front of him seemed an almost wondrous thought.

With that, she anointed herself with some of her favorite perfume.

"Are you ready, m'lady?" Anna asked.

"I think so…it hardly seems real."

Anna put her arms to Mary's shoulders. "It is real, m'lady. He's your husband and you are his wife…and he's waiting for you. God knows how long you've waited for him."

"Oh, Anna," Mary threw her arms around the maid in gratitude and excitement. When they parted, Anna nodded to her in encouragement and opened the door, through which Mary passed into the hall.

Anna followed her and led her to the bedroom. She knocked, Matthew's voice sounded from the inside to come in. Anna turned the handle and let the door open on its own, so that Matthew could take in his bride completely, before closing it and allowing them their privacy at last.

His breath caught at the sight of her. There she stood, Lady Mary Crawley, his wife, dressed in a thin nightgown, her dressing gown covering enough to leave some idea to the imagination. Her rich dark hair fell around her shoulders effortlessly. It was the softest he had ever seen her, she was the delicate creature he had for so long conjured in his head when he dreamt of this moment, here standing in front of him.

She had wanted to be beautiful for him tonight. And seeing the look on his face, as he stood in light grey silk pyjamas, she knew that she was. His hair was soft and fell down toward his blue eyes, no longer combed back in military formality. They were their true selves at last, unencumbered by any duty their lives had ever dictated.

Matthew took a bold step toward her, attempting to hide how nervous he truly was, and pulled her to him. He kissed her with the same confidence he had earlier in the evening. They pulled apart, and, for no other reason than she felt compelled to do it, Mary wrapped her arms around his shoulders, he responded by gripping her about the waist, and they simply stood and held each other.

"You are beautiful. And I love you," he whispered into her ear. Mary held him tighter. Suddenly, almost involuntarily, Mary found herself comparing this moment to the night with Pamuk. There had been no love between them, which she well knew, but now that she was here, in love, she understood that the two experiences could not be compared. But even more so, she became filled with regret that she had lost herself so fully that night, and was now allowing it to cheapen this.

Matthew could feel a tear on his cheek and knew it was not his own. He pulled away slightly.

"Darling, what's the matter?" he asked, terrified he had done something wrong already.

"Nothing, it's silly," she said, letting go a laugh at her own ridiculousness.

"Nonsense, what is it?" Matthew implored, brushing her tears away with his thumbs. Mary could not bring herself to look at him.

"I just thought of….of Pamuk. I'm sorry…I just…for some reason I've never felt more ashamed of it than I do right now."

Matthew took a sharp intake of breath, but did not let go of her. He rested his arms around her waist and she placed her head against his chest.

"Mary…listen to me. You were young. This – you and I, here, right now…is something different. Not just because we love each other but because...it's you and I. Nothing I have ever experienced will be more beautiful than this night, and nothing you have ever done could cheapen it because…because it's you, Mary."

She pulled her head from his shoulder and looked deep into his eyes. Something about those words felt like she had been waiting years to hear them. It was such a simple truth. "Because it's you." This was the man she was meant to be with, who she belonged with. It was so simple it had to be the truth.

They had waited quite long enough.

They moved slowly and tenderly at first. Mary leaned up and placed a kiss on his lips so light he barely felt it. With an equally light touch, she brought her hands from his shoulders to his chest, and gently began unfastening the buttons of his night shirt. They parted lips briefly so she could better examine her task. Meanwhile, Matthew found the ribbon of her dressing gown and gingerly pulled it loose. She let her arms rest to her sides as he pushed the garment from her shoulders, letting it fall to the ground around her ankles. He could see the suggestion of her breasts beneath the thin nightgown. It was enough to hurry his actions if only slightly.

Matthew undid the final button on his shirt and removed it, draping it over a nearby chair. He did not take his eyes from his bride. Hers moved to his chest, where her hands followed. She followed the shape of each pectoral down to his abdomen. Mary felt her breath quicken at the warmth of his skin.

Mary looked up into Matthew's eyes. In this moment of total vulnerability, she could see that he was nervous. She had a fleeting curiosity as to his experience, whether he and Lavinia had felt compelled during the war, but the timid look in his eyes she knew was entirely related to the newness of this all. The newness of finally being able to express what they had never been able to.

A gentle smile spread across her face which somehow relaxed him completely. It was a look of such understanding and encouragement. Mary took a single step back, toward the waiting bed, and held her hand out to him. He took it, allowing her to guide him.

She slowly slinked back across the covers, drawing Matthew down with her in a kiss both loving and irresistibly seductive. They moved together until he was completely above her.

Matthew could hardly sustain his thoughts as the sensation of their bodies pressing together began to overwhelm him. Still, he moved with tender purpose. He pulled away from Mary's lips, gazing lovingly down at her, absorbing the wonder of what was about to happen, what was happening. He kissed her neck, across her collar, and finally to where the line of her nightgown covered her chest. The ties that held it closed were thin lace. He pulled away briefly. He made eye contact with his wife, silently asking permission to continue. In response, she brought a hand to his cheek and kissed him gently.

As they kissed, he brought his right hand to the fabric and slowly untied it. Pulling it back, his hands seemed to move of their own volition, exploring her breasts as if she were a delicate work of art, entirely his own. The touch drew a gasp from Mary, she arched her back in response which only brought their bodies closer together. She could feel that Matthew would not wait much longer, and neither could she.

As he continued to let his hands roam freely along her body, she brought her hands to the waistline of his pants. Together, they tugged at the fabric, pulling it down his thighs and around his knees. Matthew tried to kick them from his ankles as smoothly as he could, but there was no way to make the motion delicate. Mary could not repress a small giggle at his struggle. He blushed, a bit embarrassed at his own clumsiness, but when he looked back at Mary's beaming face he remembered that this very clumsiness was simply one of the countless things she loved about him.

As they shared in this moment of humility, they felt the great comfort of their love. She realized, perhaps for the first time, really, that she did not need him to be dashing, or suave, or for him to hold his fork a proper way. She simply needed him to love her. He did not need her to wear her heart on her sleeve or be inviting or warm. He knew that she loved him, however hard it was for her to speak her emotions aloud. They didn't need words anymore.

As they lay slightly apart, silently admiring one another, Mary reached down and began gently pulling the hem of her nightgown up her thigh. Matthew took this cue and the two shared a seductive smirk as he took hold of the nightgown, and in one fluid motion, pulled it above her arms and off of her body, tossing it to the floor to lie beside the rest of their discarded clothing.

He resumed his position above her, their bare skin shifting across each other in electric currents. He leaned down and kissed her once more.

"I love you, Matthew," she said.

"I love you," he replied. And with that, they came together. Matthew suppressed a gasp from Mary with another kiss, passionate and deep. They moved as one being as she clung to him, burying her face in his shoulder and biting lightly at it. Matthew was blinded by passion, his breath hot against the crook of Mary's neck.

Soon enough, they drove each other toward oblivion, until finally Matthew collapsed against Mary in exhausted ecstasy. They lay almost motionless as he took the silence to listen to her breathing, his head resting against her chest. They adjusted themselves only slightly, and Mary brought her arms around him, cradling him against her.

After several minutes of silence, their breathing steadied.

"My God…" Mary said in a haggard whisper.

"What, darling?" Matthew said, not moving his head from her chest but nestling closer.

"To think…we could have been doing that for eight years."

They laughed. Reluctantly, Matthew moved his head to make eye contact with her, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Well…if that's how you feel…We have a lot of lost time to make up for."

Before she could laugh, he had captured her lips in a kiss. Without breaking contact, they fumbled together until they were properly under the covers, deciding they were not quite so tired after all.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! The blissful fluff period unfortunately will soon be over, time to get angsty folks :/