Hello there darlings, and welcome to a Downton Au, where this Mary and Matthew get absolutely sloshed and dance the tango after eating a spice of life dinner...
Actually my modern au take on M/M is the Shiraz to that Sauvignon Blanc, so will you do me the honour of taking this dance with me?
For those that have been following this ficlet on Tumblr, I will still update there first and then post here in two part chapters. I've had a couple of requests to post my scribbling on FF, so thank you for your interest and I hope that I can write up to expectations. Let me know what you think!
Disclaimer: I invited M/M and some of the Downton cast over for a drink and a bite to eat, but they will always remain JF's and ITV's
With that: queue music...
The electrifying vibe in the dark and golden lit room was slowing down for the night. The majority of the guests had left, leaving drunken parties at tables still in full swing, and huddling couples in corners talking together with heads close. The music throbbed soft blues and jazzy notes, and those in black swirled like a dance between tables in the throes of cleaning and resetting for the new day.
Tinkering in the kitchen subsided except for the blow torches of the sous chefs dishing up desserts, and a quiet hum of the coffee machine behind the bar. A few guests lingered in the lounge next to the bar sipping from cognac sniffers or liqueurs on ice. Barmen moved like a choreographed display, shaking, pouring, wiping, as bottles and glasses glinted in the golden lights of the night. The full length mirrors behind them sparkled like fireworks when the towers outside blew flames in the air to mark the hour. It was late, but in this precinct of the city, the revelry was just starting.
The front doors opened with a whoosh of air and a lone figure in a clean cut suit slowly meandered along the lounge chairs to the bar which opened into the etheric room. His breath hitched at the scene before him. It was the epitome of grand.
"I'm sorry sir, but the kitchen is closed at this hour. Or would you rather a drink at the bar?"
Matthew turned at the voice, and was greeted by a petite blonde dressed all in black with a long black apron tied around her waist, the restaurant's name embroidered across. He returned her smile and indicated the bar.
"Have a seat and Jimmy will make you a drink." She turned towards the barman and indicated with a wave of her hand as she set off across the floor again to attend to the remaining guests.
"What will it be tonight sir?" Jimmy leant across the row of bottles in front of him, hands on the bar opposite, to give the patron his full attention. The man was dressed impeccably in an expensive black suit, a crisp white collar, and a silk tie. He dressed like money.
"Johnnie Black on ice thanks." Matthew smiled at the young man as he turned to survey the room. He wanted to see the room working, those that attended to those that were fawned on. There would be a great deal of money splurged in this room and all for show and pleasure. Celebrities liked the hidden corners and dim lights looking out over the city. Wealthy businessmen liked to appear generous for clients and meetings. And then there were everyday Jo's splurging for special occasions.
Wait staff criss-crossed the floor with used plates, fresh desserts, wine bottles for topping up glasses, and flourishing clean tablecloths. It really was a beehive of activity.
"There you are sir. Black on ice. Here on business or pleasure?" Jimmy threw out the standard barman's quip to see if the guy wanted to talk.
"I'm actually new to the city. So I thought a night to wander out and about to orientate myself before I start work tomorrow." He turned back to reply, "I think this may be my last stop though, I feel like I have just walked into home here." He smirked, realising that the feeling was genuine even if it had a double meaning.
"It does that. For all the grandeur, this place gives a feeling of comfort. And trust me our staff here will treat you like you have come back to the most important place you can go outside your own home." The glass in Jimmy's hand was caressed with a cloth and held to the light, as he continued. "We welcome you into our family and fold, and treat you like royalty. Not much better service in the entire city if you ask me. But then that's partly due to our boss."
"Robert Crawley? His reputation precedes him; the Crawley's have been an established forerunner within the food industry for years." Matthew swirled his glass and the ice chinked against the thick curved edge.
"Rightly, Mr Crawley has been running the business for years after his own parents, but he is slowly stepping back and is here less. No, I mean his eldest daughter. She has been looking after the place for the last six months. She is the kind of woman to have her finger on the pulse and run this ship with military precision."
"Sounds like Robert Crawley is lucky to have such talent and professionalism within the family."
"She may be a hard task master, but then all the staff feels the need to rise to the challenge. Mary is not so much as undervalued as she was born the wrong sex."
"Oh, how so?" He cocked his head with the question, as this was certainly news for him.
"Well for starters, we have a new manager starting tomorrow, a guy from outta town that is to take over the helm. Great credentials, but it would have been easier for Mary to stay on running the place. She's been here long enough, and spends more time here than sleeping. Anyway…" Jimmy drifted off as he bent to retrieve the drinks order coming through the printer.
Matthew sipped his drink; the liquid burnt the back of his throat, cleansing his palate. He turned back to the buzzing room, activity drawing his eye to a large group of gentlemen standing, on the point of leaving. The petite blonde wove in and out of the large alcove off the main room, a long heavy table running down the centre with a dozen high backed leather chairs down each side.
The private dining room perhaps? Matthew thought.
The blonde started gathering used glasses on trays and stacking crumpled napkins, working silently and invisibly as the men stood to say their goodbyes. Matthew looked toward the group and realized in amongst the twenty or so middle aged men in suits, a tall svelte woman sheathed in black stood kissing cheeks and shaking hands in farewell. Body language showed that she was among friends, making jokes and smiling warmly at passing comments, and the men were pleased with her attentions.
Matthew's eyes were riveted on her form, at one look she wavered between businesslike and yet another, utterly sexual. He could not shy away from the fact that her knee length dress clung like a second skin, revealing how long her legs were and every curve to her statuesque figure. Her arms moved with grace and her hands painted pictures in the air as she talked and laughed. A laughter, Matthew noticed as it drifted across the room and caressed his ear, that was deep and playful and warm. The darkness of her hair set the black of her dress off, and was pulled into a messy bun at the nape of her neck
I wondered if I pulled out the pins, how far down her naked back it would fall?
The thought came unbidden and Matthew suddenly realised that he never once felt a pull to a woman so instantly before. And in his line of business he had met many beautiful, rich and powerful women eager for a man's attention. He pondered what this one woman was doing with all these businessmen, and in such an elegant restaurant.
He was still looking at her as he took a small sip of his drink, more to give his hands something to do, when she turned.
In the art of hospitality, you are trained to value and become tuned in to your instincts, using it as a tool to be able to understand and anticipate others. Those that you provide service for and those that you work with. It becomes second, even first nature to read others without words. The art of observation meant a smooth running ship, and first class service to those to grace their floor. They strove to make customers happy, and in doing so created an environment people remembered and returned to. It was also good business.
Surrounded by a dozen charming ad execs' full of wine and placated by a fine dinner, many of whom she saw on a regular basis dining here, she felt the whisper of a caress against her neck , and her skin felt the touch.
The intrinsic pull of knowing that she needed to turn around and meet the eyes that tapped her on the shoulder rang in her mind, drowning out the men's chatter. The red thread of fate pulled her and she slowly pivoted on her high heel mid laugh to answer the question. Her face was open, her laugh echoing from her being, as she nodded to the man next to her, and placed her hand on his elbow.
In her act of facing the bar to start towards it, she saw him.
His turquoise eyes pierced her mind not ten metres away. They captured her dark ones, and in a minuscule of time, like that of taking stills for a moving camera, she had lost and then found her completed soul.
It was a moment when two atoms in the ether collide and make a new one, and nothing after that point would be the same.
The smile played still on her lips as she took the short distance to the bar in her long strides, not breaking eye contact with the man sitting with a drink in his hand.
He had not eaten here tonight she surmised, or she really would have noticed him before. His crisp suit accentuated the angular lines of his body. Broad shoulders narrowing to a small waist, long legs crossed at the ankle on the bar stool, polished black Italian cut shoes, given away by the blunt square toe. The glass was lost in his hands with strong manicured fingers.
And she noticed that he still watched her crossing the room, his eyes holding a question, an answer and a statement.
She read it all in that short space of time, she acknowledged the handsome man that he was, and the woman she could imagine she would be next to him.
The angle of her trajectory towards the bar gave no doubt that she was to come to stand beside him. She saw the breath hitch in his chest as she came besides him, and she let the full force of her smile greet his presence as both her hands grasped the bar, coasting to a stop as her torso brushed the wood.
Her head turned, "Jimmy, may I have a glass of sparkling, please."
Being the observant barman, he nodded and reached for a glass to fill.
"Looks like you have them wrapped around your little finger!" Matthew angled his head toward the group of suits she had just come from, a playfulness hinted in his voice.
Mary half turned to face him as she waited for the drink. She raised her eyebrows in mock resignation and twitched her lips. His voice had been deep and as soft and sweet as pure honey.
"I guess there is an art to it. Although if you must know, it remains in their best interest to stay on my good side." The slight smirk at the corners of her mouth gave the look of someone very confident at their abilities of persuasiveness.
"With which I am sure that they benefit from greatly."
The glance she gave him from the corners of her eyes showed her his honest teasing.
"I'm afraid it has been preached to me down through my family that it is always the look of things that matters. I treat them like aristocracy and they treat me like a Greek princess. It works both ways."
"That can easily be done!" He smirked into the glass, gesturing Jimmy for a refill. She pondered if he referred to the former or latter part of her statement, as he continued. "We all have to balance our personas and that which is true."
She leant forward, bringing her dark eyes closer to him. "Although I must confess. I am neither the tragic Greek beauty from the classics or an Italian to which the restaurant is renowned, but it seems to keep them happy!"
"Ah yes, we must maintain the game of charades which we call life."
"Am I that plain that you read me like a book?" Her eyes challenged him, but the creases that escaped from her soul cast from the corners belayed her surprise that he seemed to.
"I am sure that Classic Greek literature is full of complexities and subtly, adventure and tragedy, hope and plenty of classic romance. So yes, I read you."
In that moment she wondered then who this stranger was, and what he did, and if, after tonight she would ever see him again. This man who had crept under her skin, her armour, and already fondled her heart.
Turning back towards the group of men, mineral water in hand, she paused and threw him a glance that smouldered. Brief though it was, he caught it, his pale blue eyes deepened as a result, and he caught the hint of desire.
"One must do one's duty, and on nights like these that one is me." She found it physically hard to walk away back to the awaiting men.
"Looks like your duty has you outnumbered?" Matthew called after her.
Her laughter rose to the rippled golden lit ceiling.
"It takes more men than that to equal one Mary Crawley!"
And Matthew's heart flickered in his chest.