A/N: thanks so much for all your reviews, story alerts and favourites! It's lovely to know that people are excited about the story.
I know the whole 'Matthew and Lavinia are a couple and along comes Mary' plot has been done before (and done very well, I might add), but hopefully you'll find something different in this story to keep you interested xxx
A couple of hours had passed by when Matthew heard footsteps approaching the living room, where he'd been working. Well, "working". He still hadn't finished annotating the draft lease, even though two hours had been more than enough time to do so. Conflicting thoughts of his possible romantic feelings towards Mary, and of his definite romantic feelings towards Lavinia (they were still definite, weren't they?) kept pushing their way to the front of his mind, forcing him to confront the issue. He'd always found Mary physically attractive, but he didn't pay much attention to those feelings- most men with a decent level of eyesight appreciated her looks. But over the last few weeks he'd found himself increasingly enjoying her company. She was witty, well-read and could be surprisingly caring when she needed to be. He'd found in her a close, trust-worthy friend. He didn't have many of those, and so valued her all the more.
Eventually, he'd made a decision- he and Lavinia were in a committed relationship, and had been for almost two years. She'd been a dedicated, loving girlfriend to him all that time, and he couldn't fault her in any way. In contrast, he'd known Mary for six months, and they'd been proper friends for only three or four months. Despite their friendship, they couldn't seem to hold a conversation without purposefully annoying or mocking each other, and hardly shared any interests at all. Furthermore, Mary had given him no indication that she saw him as anything other than a friend- and why would she? She had enough suitors as it was. It would be stupid to even think about pursuing anything with her, even if he was single. Which he certainly wasn't.
"Are you ready for dinner?" He heard her ask as she peeked round the living room door.
"Yes, I am." He technically wasn't, but he figured he could always finish his reading once Mary had gone to bed. "Are you hungry?"
"No, not really, but I probably will be by the time the food arrives. What are you in the mood for?" Mary got out her phone and started scrolling through her contact list, which was full of the numbers for local (gourmet, naturally) takeaways.
"I'm insulted that you'd think I would have forgotten something that I suggested to you a mere two hours ago. We're cooking." Matthew stood and grabbed Mary's hand, dragging her towards the kitchen. "Lavinia came up with this great recipe a few weeks ago; I nosied around your kitchen earlier and I'm pretty sure you've got all the ingredients."
"Yes, I remember. Lavinia's fabulous chicken dish." Mary couldn't help muttering drily under her breath. Matthew had talked her ear off about how delicious it had been and how talented Lavinia was in the kitchen. It had made Mary feel rather inadequate, for some inexplicable reason…
"Oh, did I mention that to you already?" Matthew queried as he began opening kitchen cupboards, curious about Mary's strange tone of voice. "Well, it was amazing, and she's texted me the recipe. It sounds fairly straightforward, so it shouldn't be too much of a problem to prepare, even for you, my little sous-chef." He teased, pinching her side playfully.
There was that infuriatingly patronising tone again. Mary reasoned that it should have made her want to refuse to help him cook- to simply sit there and watch him and take every opportunity to point out things he was doing wrong. Instead, however, she felt the need to prove to him that she was capable of fulfilling some household chores with a decent level of success. That she wasn't just an over-protected pseudo-aristocrat, living in her little bubble where housework and cooking don't exist.
"Fine, what do you want me to do? And by the way, don't even think about asking me to call you 'Chef' during this process."
An hour or so later, and Mary and Matthew were sat at the dining table, admiring their work and complimenting themselves (not each other, obviously) on their talents. The dish had turned out well, and preparations had gone fairly smoothly. Matthew was actually quite impressed with how Mary had followed the recipe and taken care over the measurements - he'd half expected her to try and deliberately sabotage it so that she could get her own way, and order food in. He hadn't been impressed, however, with her wilfully dropping a handful of grated cheese on his head when he bent down to pick up a bit of coriander off the floor, and her subsequent fit of laughter.
"So," Mary began as she scraped together the last forkful of food from her plate, "I'm almost afraid to ask this, but what's the favour that you wanted?"
Matthew smiled, slightly embarrassed. He didn't really know how to ask without sounding silly. "Well, basically…one of Lavinia's friends is getting married in Berkshire in a couple of weeks, and I'm going with Lavinia to the wedding. The friend and her groom-to-be are both extremely well-bred, so we're expecting the whole affair to be quite grand and formal. Lavinia said the other day that there'll be some waltzing going on during the reception…and neither of us have waltzed before. I was wondering if you could teach me?" He asked hopefully. He really hoped Mary wouldn't see his request as some sort of strategy to 'come onto her' or anything like that. "I just don't want to make a fool of myself in front of all those people." He explained, to clarify his motives. "I told Lavinia that I'd ask you for help." He quickly added.
Mary tried to suppress her affectionate gaze. He was so sweet when he was being shy and awkward! "Matthew, I'd love to be able to help you both, but I'm afraid I don't know how to waltz either! Did you presume that just because I live in a big house that I'd be an expert in ballroom dancing?" She asked with a teasing glint in her eye.
"Oh, no, I just thought…you went to private school and everything…so…I don't really know what I thought." Matthew admitted sheepishly. "You just seem like you'd know how to dance, for some reason." However you felt about Mary Crawley, you couldn't deny that she had elegance and grace in abundance. Matthew had just presumed that this stemmed from a dancing background.
"We did have a couple of lessons, way back in year11, just before our school dance. I can't really remember anything from them, unfortunately. I am pretty good at generally rocking back and forth and swaying to slow music while in hold, though, thanks to a lifetime of dinner/dances. Does that interest you?" She noticed Matthew open his mouth to respond, looking as if he was going to reply in the negative. She cut him off before he could do so. "In fact, I remember Lavinia complaining a while ago that you never danced whenever you went out anywhere. I must therefore insist that you let me help you. After all, you helped me discover the wonders of a cheese-grater this evening. Let me teach you about the magical world of having a sense of rhythm." Again pre-empting his response, she clicked her fingers and beckoned him to follow her into the living room, before he had the chance to form any words at all.
Matthew was sat there with his mouth hanging open. How did she do that? "But Mary, we need to put these dishes away!" He called out after her. There was no response, just the sound of music playing from the stereo system. He sighed, resigning himself to his fate.
This feels nice, Matthew thought, before quickly chastising himself again. Hadn't he told himself he wouldn't think of Mary that way anymore? They were in hold, gently swaying to the beat of the slow jazz song that Mary had chosen. Although they'd hugged before, this was the most prolonged physical contact they'd ever had with each other, giving Matthew the opportunity to think about how well her dainty hand fit in his, as well as how snugly his arm fit around her petite waist. She also smells really good, he observed, as Mary swung her hair back away from her shoulder.
This feels rather good, Mary thought. She'd never given that much thought to Matthew's physique before; he had such a handsome face, gorgeous locks of golden hair and the most arrestingly blue eyes you'd ever see- there was enough to appreciate there, without giving thought to his body. But now, as her hand clutched his gently, and her forearm rested on his upper-arm, she realised that he actually had quite a good, lean frame. His arm around her waist was strong, yet he wasn't holding her roughly (some men seemed to think was a good idea, to portray themselves as a 'take charge' kind of guy). He also smells really good, she observed, as Matthew leaned forward to get a look at the clock over her shoulder.
"You're not doing too badly. You have more rhythm than I thought you would." Mary said, for want of something to say to break the silence. They'd been gazing at each other's faces for goodness knows how long, to the point where the situation was getting a little awkward, prompting Matthew to avert his attention by checking the time.
"I suppose we're each not as flawed as the other person presumes." Matthew joked, glad they were back to their default setting of making fun of each other. He was much more comfortable with that than with the inappropriate thoughts that were lurking in the back of his mind, which he was desperately trying to banish. Lavinia, Lavinia, Lavinia, Lavinia. "I'm sure Lavinia will be impressed with my moves at the wedding." He said, hoping that it would help.
"Yes, I'm sure she will." Mary couldn't help but feel a little bit disappointed that Matthew had clearly been thinking of Lavinia this whole time. She could've sworn she'd seen something in the way he'd been looking at her…
"So how's your love-life going? Have your parents set you up with anyone recently?" There wasn't really anywhere else to go with the Lavinia tactic, so maybe steering the conversation towards her endless stream of suitors would have the same effect.
Mary sighed over-dramatically, eliciting a small chuckle from Matthew. She always complained to him about her parents' attempts to find her a suitable husband. "I met this guy for dinner last night, I went on a date with him a couple of weeks ago and he wanted to meet again. He's the son of one of Dad's business acquaintances, I think I told you about him. He's alright, I suppose- there isn't anything wrong with him as such…he sounds perfect on paper and ticks all the boxes, and I know my parents would definitely approve, which is important…but there's just something missing- I don't think I actually feel anything for him. There's no connection. It's the same with all of them." Her tone grew weary. "Do you know what I mean?"
Matthew's heart broke a little for her. Mary and her sisters were all expected to marry certain kinds of men from certain kinds of background. Matthew couldn't really understand it himself, but he knew that Mary had taken this 'duty' to heart and was genuinely trying to please her family by going on dates with these bland men who'd been hand-picked and thoroughly vetted by her family beforehand. Although a large part of Mary undeniably belonged in that social circle, full of privileged, entitled socialites, there was an edge to her that meant she always felt a little out of place among that group. He could tell that she was concerned about how to reconcile her two wishes- to please her family, and to be with someone she genuinely liked (or, if she was lucky, loved).
"Yes, I think I understand what you mean." He replied softly. He noticed her look down, looking slightly awkward. He hoped he hadn't sounded like he pitied her. Then she looked up again, almost laughing.
"He kissed me, after we'd had dinner. He really is not a good kisser. Maybe that's the problem. I just need to teach him how to kiss!" She giggled at the memory of her clearly inexperienced date.
Matthew had to fight back the wave of jealousy that threatened to wash over him at the knowledge that Mary had kissed a man last night. The wave subsided when he heard that she hadn't enjoyed it at all; then he found himself grinning at her girlish laughter. "He was probably just nervous, the poor chap! And now you're mocking his skills behind his back. Honestly, Mary, you're too cruel sometimes."
"Why would he be nervous? I was perfectly nice to him! I must have been, if he wanted to kiss me in the first place." Mary suddenly became aware that, while laughing, they'd moved closer to each other. His arm was now further around her waist. She felt herself grow warm…
"It's always nerve-racking to kiss a beautiful girl, regardless of how nice she is!" Matthew retorted, without realising what he'd said.
Mary's eyes widened and her stomach fluttered- Matthew thought she was beautiful? He'd never called her that before…he'd actually never properly commented on her appearance at all. The most she'd ever gotten was a 'you look nice', when she'd been dressed up to the nines for her birthday party a few weeks ago. It wasn't that nobody ever told her she was beautiful- in fact, she heard it constantly. Even the guy last night had told her so! But to hear it from Matthew was special…it meant something to her.
"Well…" she swallowed hard, unsure of what to say, "even accounting for nerves, I think he needs to work on his technique." She thanked her mind for providing her with some words, even if they were quite stupid ones.
The inappropriate part of Matthew's brain was in overdrive. All this talk of Mary kissing other men, and other men kissing Mary, and now of technique, was making him heat up. He couldn't stop looking at her full, glossy lips. They were the perfect shade of pink. "What would you suggest to him?" His voice had unintentionally become low and hoarse. You sound like an idiot, he told himself.
He sounds so sexy, so seductive, Mary thought, feeling her stomach flip over and her body warm up. He'd moved slightly closer to her over the last minute or so. His eyes were dark and seemed to be spending a lot of time looking at her mouth. His mouth was pretty enticing, too. "Shall I show you?" Oh. My. God. Why did you say that? What the hell are you think- She stopped midway through her thought, as she saw Matthew's eyes fill with what looked like desire, and he moved his head slowly towards hers. Was he going to let her kiss him?
She wants to kiss you. Let her. This was all that Matthew's head (and other parts of his body) told him, and he went with it. He brought his head down towards hers, stopping just before he got to her lips. After all, she'd said that she wanted to kiss him.
Mary had stopped thinking. Her body felt like it was about to burst with anticipation, and she knew the only way to relieve it of this feeling was to do what it was begging her to do. She parted her lips, reached up to close the (now imperceptible) gap between her and Matthew, and took his top lip in hers, sucking it gently. She heard Matthew sigh. Sensing that he wanted her to continue, she let go of his lip, only to run the tip of her tongue along it, before taking it in hers again. Matthew positively groaned at this.
The feel of Mary's tongue on his lips almost caused a mess in Matthew's trousers. He let go of her hand, to move his other arm around her waist. He wanted to feel more of her, he needed to. He tilted his head and opened his mouth, finding her tongue with his. This was insanely good.
They both marvelled (with what few brain cells were still functioning) at how good the other tasted, how good this whole situation felt. Mary began to rake her fingers through his hair (his darling, messy hair) as she'd always wanted to, causing Matthew to groan more. His hands began to stroke and squeeze her back, one hand slowly moving up towards her neck, his flat palm touching the exposed skin between her shoulder-blades. He felt her shiver and heard her slight moan from the back of her neck. Her neck. He made a mental note to explore that with his lips later. Their tongues and lips continued to caress each other, inducing extreme cases of light-headedness and heat convection between them.
A thought suddenly struck some part of Matthew's subconscious- he remembered how he'd watched her leave earlier, when she'd turned to go upstairs to work. How good her derriere looked in that jumpsuit. How good her derriere always looked. He was somehow even more turned on than he had been up until this thought. He moved himself still closer to her, his tongue delving deeper into her mouth, almost bending her over backwards, with one hand pressing against her back more strongly. He felt and heard her moan and sigh into his mouth, her hands gripping his hair and shoulder more desperately. He loved that she was enjoying this as much as he was. Now to put his little plan into action- he slowly started to move his left hand downwards, over the small of her back, round to her hip, and then down…down towards her perfect-
*THUD*
They broke apart. They'd been so lost in their own little world of bliss that the sound made them physically jump apart from each other.
"What was that?" Mary asked, breathing heavily (whether from the scare or from the kiss, she wasn't sure). "It sounded like someone kicked the front door" she managed to say, trying to ignore the heat flowing around her body and the delicious taste in her mouth.
Oh God, thought Matthew. Is someone trying to break in? Am I actually going to have to fight an intruder tonight? In this…aroused state? This certainly was not the evening Matthew had expected when Robert asked him to stay the night. Just then, the front door opened. He noticed Mary take a step back. Was she scared? He felt like he should hold her, protect her. Or did he just want an excuse to touch her again?
"Mary? Matthew?" Called a male voice from the hallway. Did the intruders know their names? Matthew was very confused.
"Oh," Mary sighed, from a mixture of relief and gross disappointment, "my parents are back."
"What?" Matthew asked a little too loudly. He really wasn't very good at hiding his emotions. He didn't want her parents to be back. He wanted to carry on kissing Mary and see where things would lead! "But they're meant to be back tomorrow." He practically whined.
The living room door opened. Matthew quickly grabbed a pillow and held it in front of his groin. "Oh, here you are! Are you both alright?" Robert greeted the two young adults with a smile, until he noticed their panic-stricken faces.
"Yes, we're fine." Mary replied easily. Matthew wondered how she could regain her composure so quickly. "We just heard a loud noise and then heard the front door open, so we got a bit worried."
"Oh, sorry about that, darling. We didn't mean to scare you. That front door gets jammed every now and then, you sort of have to kick it open. It's a bit of a nuisance, actually- I'll ask Cora to call the handyman on Monday."
"It's fine," Mary smiled. She noticed Matthew was keeping very quiet. She knew he wasn't as good at recovering from awkward situations as she was, so she thought it might be best to do all the talking. "Why are you home already? What happened?"
"Hello, my dears." Cora breezed in. "There was a terrible accident somewhere along the motorway and it caused the most enormous traffic jam- we were practically stationary for almost two hours! It was going to take us far too long to get there for the journey to be worth it, so we thought we should probably just come back."
"That's so irritating, you must be disappointed to have to come back home." Mary sympathised, although the regret in her voice completely stemmed from her annoyance that her kiss with Matthew was so abruptly interrupted.
"We'll go back another time, it's no problem," Robert smiled, turning to Matthew, "but at least now poor Matthew doesn't have to spend the night here! I'm sure you have other things you'd rather be doing, wouldn't you, Matthew?" Robert asked genially.
"I…er- yes," Matthew stammered. Mary silently cursed him. Why couldn't he just play it cool? She really didn't want her parents to suspect anything inappropriate had happened. "I mean, I wouldn't have minded staying here, but it's nice that you're back." Matthew attempted to make sense.
Robert and Cora smiled back at him. There was an awkward silence.
"Do you want to go and get your things then, Matthew?" Mary asked, to break the tension. She still didn't look at him – they hadn't made eye contact since the kiss. She also knew that Matthew was secretly afraid of the house- he didn't like big, old buildings. Mary thought making him find his guest bedroom to retrieve his things on his own would be sufficient punishment for being so awkward around her parents.
"Yes, I will. Excuse me," Matthew smiled weakly at her parents before leaving the room. Mary didn't dare watch him leave. She was still trying to get rid of the feelings that had erupted within her during their kiss, and she wasn't sure what effect looking at him would produce.
Robert and Cora also left the room, to get changed and unpack their overnight suitcase. Mary sat down on the sofa and let out a big sigh. What was the next stage? Would they have to talk about the kiss and what it meant? Of course they would…but what did it mean? Would he want a relationship? Would she?
A couple of minutes later she heard someone come down the stairs. It was Matthew. She found herself making her way towards the hallway.
"Matthew" she called to him, just as he was about to open the front door. She couldn't let him just leave like that, without saying anything. But what to say?
Matthew stilled at the sound of her voice. What was she going to say? Was she going to kiss him again? He turned and looked at her, a mixture of desire and anxiety building within him. "Yeah?" he asked, completely uncertain of what her response might be.
"You…you still have a bit of grated cheese in your hair. From earlier."
He certainly hadn't been expecting that response. He didn't really know what to do with that information. He just nodded at her, turned, opened the door and left.