A/N: I am finally updating this! It has been a work-in-progress for weeks and weeks now, but I sat down this evening and made sure to upload it. Thanks so much for sticking with it and continuing to read and review. I do love this young, playful version of M/M so it makes me really happy to know that others do too!

As an aside, I am a couple of thousand words in on the next UR chapter, so hopefully it won't be too long! Xxx

…

Mary turned the key into the lock to let herself into Matthew's flat, giving the door its necessary little kick to get it open. He'd had to give her a lesson on how to open his unco-operative door and made her practice while he was there, in order to avoid her being stuck outside one day. Mary had rolled her eyes and insisted that she was more than capable of opening a door on her own but she was secretly glad that he seemed able to tell that she would struggle with it. The last thing she wanted was to be left out in the cold, dank hallway.

"Matthew?" Mary called into the seemingly empty flat. It was 11.30am – the exact time he'd been expecting her to arrive. They hadn't seen each other in three days and had both been very excited about the prospect of spending the majority of Saturday together, alone in his flat. But he wasn't there. As if on cue, Mary's mobile phone started to ring. "Hey, where are you?" She asked.

"Really sorry but I'm still in Marks & Spencer. I realised I didn't have enough food for our lunch so I popped out to buy a few things. I'll leave soon." Matthew's voice promised.

"Alright, don't be too long." Mary said before they disconnected the call, disappointed that she'd have to wait a little while longer before she could see him.

Plopping herself down on the sofa, she pulled her phone out of her handbag and began scrolling through Facebook to pass the time. After a few minutes, she realised that most of her Facebook contacts were in fact incredibly irritating attention-seekers. Sighing, she glanced around the living room in search of a more enjoyable distraction. Her eyes lit up as she spied an unfinished Sudoku puzzle lying on the coffee table. It always annoyed Matthew that he could never finish the puzzles as easily as he wanted to; Mary, on the other hand, was rather good at them and took pleasure in completing them much more quickly and subsequently gloating about her intellectual superiority. Picking up the paper and pen, she tucked her feet under her bottom as she snuggled up on the sofa, grabbing one of the cushions to rest the newspaper on as she wrote.

After breezing through most of the boxes, she realised she was left with two '9' figures in one of the big boxes – she never made such errors! She bit her lip in concentration as she perused the paper in search of where she'd gone wrong. Her growing frustration manifested itself in the form of increasingly frantic tapping of the pen on the newspaper. The fierceness of her motions eventually caused the flimsy pen to crack and bleed ink all over her hand and the newspaper. Groaning with exasperation at the extent of her failure in completing the Sudoku puzzle, she lifted the newspaper up with the intention of discarding it in the bin. Upon raising the paper up in the air, however, Mary noticed that the ink had already seeped through onto the cushion below it. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open as she realised that the cushion in question wasn't just any old cushion.

Back while they were still friends, Mary had teased Matthew for having, as a grown man, what was clearly a child's bedtime accessory in his flat. Matthew had sheepishly explained to her that it was what he used to sleep on as a baby and it had become a prized possession of his – he'd grown so attached to it as he lay in his cot, shunning all of his cuddly toys in favour of the powder blue and beige checked cushion, that he continued to carry it around with him wherever he went until the age of 5. Time passed by and the cushion was left, neglected, in a cupboard in his bedroom. That is, until his father died. Shortly after his father's death, Matthew and his mother were clearing through his possessions. Isobel mentioned that, as soon as she and Reginald had discovered that they were having a son, Reginald had rushed out to buy the cushion for baby Matthew. Since finding this out, it had been given pride of place in Matthew's living quarters. He usually tucked it away safely in his room when guests were over at his flat, but he took no such precautions when only Mary was there, knowing that she understands its value.

The horror and guilt building within Mary was monumental, therefore, when she realised what had happened. Feeling the need to act as quickly as possible, she grabbed hold of the precious cushion with both hands, completely forgetting that one of her hands was itself covered in blue ink. Almost shrieking with despair, Mary rushed into the kitchen and turned the tap on. She placed the cushion in the sink, directly underneath the running hot water, while she manically rummaged through Matthew's cupboards and drawers, hoping to find some form of cleaning substance to aid her.

She couldn't let Matthew come home to find his beloved cushion completely ruined – she had to delay his return. Retrieving her phone, she sent him a short text message asking him to find the most obscure kind of cheese she could think of, claiming that she had a craving for it. That should buy me more time.

No such luck.

"Mary? I'm back!" Matthew's cheery voice sounded from the hallway, along with the rustle of all the shopping bags he'd brought back with him. "Where are you hiding?" He chuckled, entering the living room.

Mary looked at him from where she stood in the kitchen doorway, practically trembling with regret.

"I'm so sorry, Matthew." She breathed.

"What's wrong? What is it?" Matthew dropped the bags on the floor, concern etched on his face.

"I did something you're really not going to be happy about." Mary tried to brace him for the news.

Matthew's eyes automatically started searching the room for what she could be referring to. Eventually, they settled on what he was sure was the crime she had committed.

"You finished my Sudoku puzzle?!" He exclaimed.

"What? No, not that!" Mary cried. She was almost sobbing now. If he was this distraught about his Sudoku puzzle, God knows how he'd react to his cushion being destroyed.

"What is it, Mary?" Matthew walked over to her, to calm her down. "What did you do, darling?" He stroked her back with one hand and soothingly caressed her cheek with the other. The tears which had been threatening to spill now fell down her cheeks and onto his thumb.

"Oh, Matthew." Mary wept. "Your cushion!" She gestured behind her, in the kitchen.

Frowning with confusion, Matthew stepped around her and over to the sink. There seemed to be a lumpy pile of material of some kind in there. Peering further in, he gasped when he realised what it was.

"What happened?" He asked, aghast.

"I was using it to rest the newspaper on," Mary explained, mopping up her eyes with her sleeve, "and the pen leaked. I'm so sorry. So sorry." She emphasised. She knew it wasn't enough, though. How could she ever make amends for ruining something that was irreplaceable to him? "I didn't realise what it was."

Matthew stayed silent, his eyes trained on the wet cushion in his kitchen sink. Almost half the pale cover was soaked in dark blue ink.

"Matthew?" Mary asked tentatively after a few moments. It scared her that he wasn't reacting. She wouldn't be surprised if he wanted to break up with her right then and there. A fresh flood of tears came cascading down her face.

The sound of her sobs made Matthew instinctively whip around on the spot and rush to her side. "Oh, my darling." He said softly, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her to him, but she resisted.

"No, you shouldn't be consoling me." She sniffed. "I'm the one who destroyed your most precious possession – I should be consoling you!" She dabbed at her eyes again. "You must hate me. God, I'm so sorry, Matthew!" She croaked out another apology before clutching at him and resting her head on his chest.

"Shh," Matthew soothed, rubbing her back and running his fingers through her hair. He'd never seen her in such a state. Remorse was not an emotion that she liked to admit to feeling. In a way, he liked that he was gradually discovering all these new sides to her as their relationship progressed – ones which lay completely undetected by anybody else. "It's alright." He said into her hair.

"No, it's not!" Mary cried out, pushing herself away from him so that she could look at him. "That's your pillow! Your father's pillow!" She angrily scrubbed at her face with the back of her hands, frustrated that he was being so irrationally unperturbed.

"I know." Matthew nodded softly. It was tremendously special to him, and it did break his heart to see it tarnished after all these years of it being in such pristine condition. "But there's no need to be so cut up about it, Mary. it was an accident." He assured her. "If you hadn't done it then I'm sure I would've, at some point soon!" He tried a small chuckle to lighten the mood but Mary remained unconvinced, her pretty face overtly troubled. "Look, I'll call my Mum and she'll bring over one of her insanely powerful cleaning products. I'm sure it's not completely beyond repair." Matthew said confidently as he pulled out his phone, although he wasn't sure if his confidence was founded or not.

"Alright…" Mary agreed, but her worried gaze was still directed towards the kitchen sink which housed the unfortunate cushion. "Is there anything I can do?" She asked, feeling bad that she was bringing Isobel, who always had a full plate, into this.

"You can stop crying and help me prepare lunch." Matthew smiled kindly and placed a kiss on her cheek.

…

A few hours later, and Matthew's cherished cushion was in a much better state than either of them had hoped for. As Matthew had mentioned, Isobel was in possession of a vast array of powders and bleaches and scrubbing equipment, a combination of which helped remove most of the dark ink which had embedded itself into the delicate material.

Thankfully, Isobel had not blamed Mary at all – as Mary had feared she would – and even gave her a quick hug to assure her that there was absolutely no reason to feel so terrible. While these understanding words were comforting to some extent, Mary still felt awful for what had happened and apologised again when saying goodbye to Isobel.

"There we are, it looks a lot better now that it's dry." Matthew announced, having just pulled the cushion-cover out of the tumble-dryer. There remained a fairly visible patch of dark blue and a few random blotches, however.

"Hmm…" Mary hummed in a mixture of fake agreement and open cynicism. Matthew merely gave her a pointed look, as if to warn her not to express any further contrition because it would be very silly to do so. Mary sighed. "I just don't understand why you're being so nice about this!" She blurted out. "You should be angry with me." She said, practically scolding him for not scolding her.

"Mary, you didn't do it on purpose!" Matthew reiterated.

"I know, but surely you're upset that it happened?" Mary asked. She herself had a small figurine that had been given to her when she was seven years old by an aunt who she detested – it held a lot of significance for her and she would be very sad to see anything happen to it, despite loathing the gift-bearer so much. So she couldn't imagine what it would be like if the item held a deep personal poignancy too.

Matthew shrugged. There was no use lying to her just to make her feel better – in fact, it almost seemed as if him breaking down in tears would make her feel better. "I suppose so, yes…there's a lot of sentiment attached to it…" He said wistfully, but stopped himself when he noticed the regret reforming in Mary's countenance. "But," he quickly added, "it is just a cushion, ultimately. It being slightly damaged hasn't removed my father from my memory. You could've set the cushion on fire and it still wouldn't have made any difference to the memory of my father." He explained, sitting down next to her.

Mary's eyes roamed over his face, searching for signs of sugar-coated kindness rather than truth. He was almost always totally honest with her, and she was very lucky to have such a sincere boyfriend, but there were times when he would prioritise her feelings over his own well-being and would consequently bend the truth a little. Finding honesty in his eyes, she let herself relax. "I see what you mean." She said quietly.

"Good." Matthew smiled. "Thank you for caring so much – it's very sweet, but very silly, of you to worry so much."

"You do realise that you're making me feel worse by thanking me for caring about ruining your dearest possession?" Mary asked sarcastically, causing Matthew to laugh. "Of course I care, Matthew – your parents are by far the most important people in your life!" She stated. She turned to look at Matthew when he stayed silent.

"Well…not 'by far', as such…" He said enigmatically.

"What do you mean?" Mary asked.

"Just…well, you're certainly up there too." Matthew replied blushingly.

Mary raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "You can't mean that you value me almost as highly as you value your parents?" She exclaimed.

Shifting in his seat, Matthew cleared his throat awkwardly. Was she berating him for being too in love with her? Did it seem ridiculous to love one's girlfriend that much? "Erm…I suppose so, yeah." His face grew more pink. "I mean, of course my parents hold a place in my life that nobody else could touch or fulfil in the same way." He clarified. "But...I've never felt about anyone the way that I feel about you." He gushed.

"Go on…" Mary smiled smugly, prompting another chuckle from Matthew. He was consistently vocal with his affection for her, but she nevertheless liked to milk any opportunity that arose for all it was worth.

"Well, I can talk to you about anything, I feel more comfortable around you than I do with anyone else…" Matthew began. "Even in ways that I never realised I'd been holding back on. Like in the bedroom." He said, turning a shade close to crimson at Mary's giggles. "You're the most important part of my day." He finished, his expression so earnest and adorable that Mary couldn't stop herself from cupping his face in her hands and kissing him soundly.

"And you're mine." She whispered, her smile echoing his. "And you're definitely amongst my family in the list of 'The Most Important People in Mary Crawley's Life." She told him.

"Oh really?" Matthew asked. "I presumed from your reaction that you thought it was strange for me to say that."

"I thought it was strange for you to rank me among your family given that you actually like yours." Mary explained. Matthew tried to give her a stern look for being so unforgiving of her family – who were perfectly nice for the most part – but couldn't resist his grin.

"I think my father would've really liked you." He said fondly.

"You think so?" Mary asked hopefully. It was a massive compliment – from all the things she'd heard from Matthew and Isobel, and a couple of Matthew's relatives, Reginald Crawley had been a wonderful, kind and decent man. Much like Matthew, she imagined.

Matthew nodded vigorously. "Definitely – he liked strong women. He did marry my mother, after all." He smirked.

"That is true." Mary chuckled, readjusting herself on the sofa so that she could curl into his side.

"You know…" Matthew said tentatively after a few moments. He hesitated.

"Hmm?" Mary hummed, pausing briefly from playing with his fingers.

"Never mind." Matthew shook his head dismissively.

"No, what is it?" Mary sat up straighter and looked at him. She could sense from his tone that it was something important.

"I just thought – I know we spoke about this a while ago and decided against it, but –" He paused again. "It would be quite nice to live together, wouldn't it?" He posed the question nervously, afraid that she might be annoyed at him for bringing it up again.

"Just 'quite nice'?" Mary feigned offence. On the inside, though, she was elated.

Matthew smirked. "Maybe a bit more than that…" He conceded. "Although you are rather cruel to me sometimes." He pouted.

"Only because you enjoy it." Mary countered, raising herself up on the sofa and straddling his lap.

"I am quite certain that it is you who derives the most enjoyment from your taunts." Matthew said haughtily, wrapping his arms around her.

"It's my favourite hobby." Mary said matter-of-factly, allowing Matthew's hand on the back of her neck to coax her head down for a kiss.

"So, what do you say?" Matthew asked softly against her lips.

Mary drew back slightly to look into his eyes. "I think it's a marvellous idea, Mr Crawley." She answered, leaning towards his grinning face for a deeper kiss.

…

A/N: soooo, there we have it! This could be the end of the story but I maaay do a chapter or two more, involving them ACTUALLY moving in together. We still have Aunt Rosamund etc to deal with, I suppose. Let me know what you think! xxxx