A/N: hello! I am finally updating this story! Thanks so much for the continued reviews and messages asking for an update. I do love this story, and I was on such a roll with it over summer but then work and everything got in the way and I just didn't have time to write it. I'm hoping to update a bit more frequently over the next month or so. You will be pleased to hear that I am also working on a sequel to Tinder, as many of you have been requesting...xxx

...

A light drizzle spattered on Mary's shoulders as she walked down the leafy street. This weather was bizarre - it was supposed to be a summery June day, and had promised to be so a couple of hours earlier, but now it seemed altogether quite drab and muggy. Deciding to abandon her walk home in favour of a mode of transport that would keep her dry, she made her way to the main road in order to hail a black cab.

London was a strange place, she mused. One could walk down a small, winding path and feel as if civilisation was miles away, then be unexpectedly thrust into the midst of the city's hustle and bustle just by taking a couple of turnings. She began dodging her way through the crowd, ignoring the prolonged glances she was getting from some people. Operation Brangelina had been going strong for over three weeks now and showed no signs of abating, which meant that people were taking a greater interest in her than they did previously.

Contrary to expectations, Matthew's fist had made them the darlings of the press. Newspapers and magazines were full of stories about the protective, strong, middle-class boyfriend defending the honour of his delicate socialite girlfriend by taking on the threatening paparazzo. The less credible outlets turned it into some form of street-urchin-saves-the-princess type of story, which was a bit of a stretch, but one that seemed to capture the hearts of the public. While she was pleased that Matthew hadn't caused another scandal, she wasn't so taken by her portrayal as nothing but a defenseless female aristocrat. She was certainly capable of standing on her own two feet and fighting her own battles - the simple fact was that she hadn't deemed that particular battle worthy of a fight.

The result of all of this was that many of the looks she was receiving over the last couple of days were - rather than the looks of intrigue and aspiration that she was used to - ones of sympathy, or worse, pity. Eric had tried convincing her that pity was better than hostility, and that she should be glad people were warming to her, but she wasn't so sure. She would rather be a disliked fighter than a pitied wallflower.

As her eyes scanned the road for an available taxi, she caught sight of a news-stand that had posted up a picture of Matthew. It was one of the pictures that had been taken by the other photographers just as Matthew had been about to punch the man. His jaw was strong and set, and his expression was determined. His chest and shoulders were in the frame and they were broad and confidently poised. It was interesting to see this side of him - she had had him down as a relatively shy, mild-mannered accountant with no real backbone. The picture was an attractive one. Mary found herself staring.

"You caught yourself a handsome one, didn't ya?" A stout, middle-aged woman winked at her, nodding her head towards the photo with a grin as she walked past. Mary offered her a small, unsure smile.

What was that annoying pang in her stomach? Oh, right. A reminder that she hadn't actually caught Matthew. A reminder that Matthew thought her lifestyle absurd and worthless and would probably never consider dating her in real life. He probably only dated 'sensible' girls with 'sensible' jobs and modest attire.

Mary shook her head clear. She had a pool of willing suitors. She was still young. She didn't need the likes of Matthew Crawley and his self-righteous insistence on weighing in on her life. Yes, she thought determinedly as she hailed her cab, she would be fine without him once this godforsaken PR exercise finally ended.

...

Matthew shut the garden door quietly behind him as he entered the house, glad to escape the unbearable humidity outside. He didn't know where Mary was, but followed the faint sound of music that was coming from upstairs.

Robert had asked Mary to give Matthew a set of keys to the old house, which Mary still used as a getaway from the drama of Downing Street. After the paparazzi incident, which had taken place not far from the house, a few photographers had been spotted lurking in the area as if they suspected that Matthew and Mary spent a lot of time there. Robert wanted Matthew to have a way into the house without having to wait outside for Mary to answer the door and risk him being seen. Mary hadn't looked particularly enthusiastic about this idea, and Matthew understood why. Hers seemed like quite a suffocating life to lead, and he presumed it was important for her to have a space of her own, something that she was in control of. He had teasingly assured her that he had far more important things to do than visit her for no particular reason. She had rolled her eyes at him, but he thought he detected a layer of relief or gratitude beneath the annoyance.

This was the first time he was letting himself into the house unbeckoned. There had been a debate in the House of Commons that morning relating to the National Party's manifesto pledge to cut benefits and the Workers' League's manifesto pledge to increase benefits. Robert and Reginald had both come under immense pressure from their respective parties not to compromise or 'give in' to the other side, but it was of course impossible for both sides to be equally stubborn, and so some concessions were ultimately offered. It all led to an uproar among the backbenchers and yet more doubt was cast on the coalition's viability. Perhaps the two parties were just too diametrically opposed to work, the media was suggesting.

Consequently, the PR teams had decided to ride on the wave of Matthew's knight-in-shining-armour appeal and have the young couple make some appearances at care homes and schools, in order to demonstrate that the parties' core values were the same. Why Reginald and Robert couldn't make these appearances themselves, Matthew had no idea, but he had learned not to question Nigel's brainwaves too much as Nigel's irritability was only growing in strength as the coalition's honeymoon period drew to a close.

Apparently their first visit was at a secondary school in a deprived borough tomorrow morning, and the PR teams wanted them to sit in on a couple of classes and speak with the headmaster and senior staff. Mary had been out and non-contactable when Nigel had phoned them both, so he had asked Matthew to relay the news to her.

The further he went up the staircase, the clearer the music became. He almost laughed out loud when he recognised what it was, but remained quiet so that he could catch her red-handed. He shook his head amusedly to himself as he gripped the knob of her bedroom door, which was already ajar. He wasn't in the habit of bursting into women's bedrooms unannounced and would usually have knocked before walking in, but this was too good of an opportunity to mock Mary.

"Are you really listening to-" Matthew began with a smug smile on his face, which quickly disappeared as he opened the door fully and saw Mary jump up from her desk in surprise, clad in nothing but her underwear and a slinky robe. He stared at her partially-exposed body for what was too long to be appropriate but not long enough to satisfy him, before meeting her eyes. The shock in her expression was quickly turning into anger.

"What the hell are you doing in here?!" Mary exclaimed, self-consciously wrapping the robe tighter around herself. Upon arriving home, she had found the house to be uncomfortable stuffy. Opening the windows hadn't helped because there was no breeze outside, so the best she could do was undress and throw on her lace and silk robe for the sake of maintaining some sense of decorum. She thanked God that she had done so, as she couldn't have borne the embarrassment of Matthew finding her in nothing but her bra and knickers. At least now she looked more like she was just in her lounge-wear...

Matthew's mouth flapped open and closed a couple of times, his face and ears flushed and his eyes darting around as he tried to look anywhere but at her figure. He felt like some kind of pervert. Worst of all, he couldn't actually remember why he'd come to see Mary in the first place. All he could think about - all he was painfully and acutely conscious of - was that he was in her bedroom, alone in the house, with Mary mostly undressed. If they wanted to, they could go at it for hours and nobody would be any wiser...Jesus, he was an actual pervert.

He saw Mary quirk an eyebrow at him. The anger in her eyes was dissipating and being replaced by some form of curious amusement. Could she tell that he was lusting after her? He probably wasn't doing a very good job of concealing it. Determined not to let her gain the upper hand, he blurted out, "Were you listening to One Direction?"

Mary looked affronted again, her body stiffening. She had speedily paused the song when Matthew had come in, but it seemed that he had heard it anyway. "No." She said defensively, crossing her arms. She narrowed her eyes as his smug smirk returned.

"Yes, you were."

"How would you know what they sound like, anyway?" Mary countered.

"My little cousin is a big fan of them." Matthew shrugged nonchalantly. "She's eleven years old. I didn't realise their demographic reached all the way up to people who could have babysat them a few years ago."

"Shut up." Mary shot him a dirty look. He was infuriating, the way he was able to switch from being on the back foot to poking fun at her or putting her in her place. That was supposed to be her skill. At the same time, though, she found herself increasingly attracted to his ability to get beneath her skin. This only served to irritate her more.

Chuckling to himself, Matthew walked over to her computer. "I bet you have their whole back-catalogue, don't you?" He heard Mary gasp behind him and grab his arm to pull him away, but he stood firm as something on her screen caught his eye. "What's this?" He asked.

On Mary's computer was a blog, called Egalité. From a quick glance, Matthew could see it was quite a sophisticated collection of articles about feminism in 21st century England. What really intrigued him, though, was that a brand new article had just been posted minutes earlier.

"Is this...is this your blog?" He asked, turning to face Mary, who was looking even more mortified than when he'd caught her in her underclothes.

"That's none of your business." Came the short response.

"Mary." Matthew said seriously.

Mary debated her answer before relenting. "Yes, fine, it is. So what?" She hardly knew why he cared.

"You write a blog about feminism?" Matthew clarified. He turned back to the screen and began perusing the website more thoroughly. The latest article was discussing the media's representation of men standing up for women, and how women are always depicted as helpless rather than merely unwilling to engage in arguments or violence. "This sounds familiar..." Matthew muttered to himself as he began reading the post, ignoring Mary's protests. The article drew on various examples of news stories from years gone by and argued convincingly that little had changed despite the passage of time. "Mary, this is really good." He breathed wondrously.

While his compliment spurred a few small butterflies in Mary's stomach, she couldn't help but feel annoyed at his obvious surprise. "Are you shocked that this spoiled, pampered socialite is able to string a coherent article together?" She deadpanned.

Matthew rolled his eyes. Nothing was ever easy with this woman. Even paying her a compliment involved a fight. "Of course not. It's always been clear to me that you're very clever - it's just that I never knew you felt so strongly about all of this." He said, gesturing to the computer screen.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't judge people so quickly. Just because someone doesn't harp on about moral issues all the time, doesn't mean they don't care." She said pointedly. Matthew had a habit of embarking on lectures about social issues - it was part of his self-righteousness that irked her - but Mary preferred to keep her views to herself to a certain extent.

"Why don't you talk about it more? You obviously have a lot to say and you have a great platform, being in the media all the time." Matthew queried, ignoring her subtle dig at him.

"What would be the point, Matthew?" Mary said, growing frustrated. "I'll just come across as if I'm complaining about my life, and I don't think complaints from a privileged twenty-something who has been afforded a wealth of opportunity and glamour would be received very well by a country that is still in austerity."

"But that's the point, isn't it? You haven't been given the opportunities you deserve!" Matthew argued back passionately. "You were sent to an expensive school, sure. You were given expensive things. But you weren't allowed to follow your own career path, or choose your own friends, or live the lifestyle that you want to lead - aren't those the opportunities that really matter?"

"You don't need to tell me, Matthew." Mary said defiantly. If he dared to try to teach her about the nature of injustice in her life, she would sock him one just like he did with the paparazzo. "I know better than anyone the opportunities that I was denied."

"So what's the problem? Why not speak up about it? These are the same issues that affect millions of young women." Matthew reasoned. He was starting to see Mary in a whole new light now. He had always known she was smart and opinionated, but it was wonderful to know that she was channeling these qualities into something meaningful. Yet, it saddened him that she felt she had to do this in secret, as if nobody would accept her views if they knew the source. "Look, the reason I came here was to tell you that we have to attend a girls' school tomorrow, in Tower Hamlets. Nigel said we're supposed to go in for a couple of hours to meet the staff, watch an English lesson and a Maths lesson, pose for a few photos and then leave. But I think you should give a talk to the students."

Mary looked at him as if he were crazy. "About what exactly?"

"About these issues!" Matthew almost shouted.

"Are you out of your mind?" Mary bit back. "You want me to stand in front of a bunch of teenagers from a deprived area and moan about how tough my life is? The school will hate me and the media will tear me to shreds!"

"I'm not saying you should moan about your life." Matthew replied, trying to be patient with her. "I'm saying that I think young girls would like to know that someone like you - someone who seems to be a world away from them - actually encounters the same obstacles as they do, and that these are issues that everyone needs to face together."

"You are the most infuriating man in the world, you know that?" Mary said through gritted teeth, pacing back and forth in front of him to release some of her frustration.

"What? Why?" Matthew asked, at a loss as to what he was doing that was so annoying. He was being supportive!

"You stormed in here without any warning, insulted my taste in music, began reading my blog without asking my permission, and now you're talking to me as if you're bloody Mother Theresa, or...Germaine Greer, or someone, and I should bow to your authority on what the girls of the world need to hear from me!" Mary threw her hands up in the air. "How on Earth did you become this aggravating?"

"For God's sake, Mary, I'm trying to help you!" Matthew gave up his attempts to be patient. "I know you don't like to let people in, but this is what it's like when people want the best for you."

"Maybe I don't want to let you in!" Mary retorted. How presumptuous of him to think that she would welcome him into parts of her life that she hadn't told anyone about at all. "Maybe I don't want to let you in literally or metaphorically. I don't recall ever volunteering information about my blog to you, and I don't recall you ever knocking on my bedroom door, so you can leave now." She said curtly, ceasing her pacing and standing in front of him, her chest rising and falling.

"I'm not going anywhere." Matthew said resolutely, also breathing heavily from the argument. He was unsure why he was so determined to stay, but he suspected that his subconscious was merely reluctant to let Mary have the final word.

He still had passion in his eyes and it made Mary's frustration shift into a different form of tension. "Why not?" She asked, her voice a little softer.

Wordlessly, Matthew closed the distance between them and kissed her. She responded immediately, her hands clutching at his chest and face. All of the tension that had built up between them needed to be released, and this was the best method either of them could think of.

Their mouths soon opened to each other and they moved closer together. Matthew slowly slid his hand beneath her gown and he could feel the soft, warm flesh of her torso beneath his fingers, involuntarily squeezing her there. And now she was moaning quietly into his mouth as their tongues slid together, her hand gently tugging his hair and sending all his nerves alight. God, he could feel himself melting into her. He shifted forward until their bodies were pressed together, rendering him even more aware of her warmth and suppleness.

Mary struggled to keep her hands in respectable places. She was overcome by how much she wanted him - if she had a little less restraint, she'd be ripping his T-shirt off, throwing him on her bed and licking him all over. Thankfully, her mother had raised her to be a little more in control of her hormones. Nevertheless, she indulged herself by trailing a hand down his neck, smoothing over his chest, down his firm stomach and towards the waistband of his black jeans. He groaned into her mouth and flexed his fingers on her bare waist, sliding them round to her back where they pushed her even closer to him.

Matthew could barely believe what was happening. He wasn't even sure why it was happening - it all seemed so abrupt - but he didn't care. Despite the fact that she was already mostly undressed and he was only in a T-shirt and jeans which could be swiftly removed, things were moving a little too slowly for him. He wanted to feel her under him, on top of him, all over him. Just a little nudge and she would be lying on her bed...

But she resisted.

He ran his tongue along hers, eliciting a moan, and tried again. But again, she resisted. This time, a hand went to his chest to gently push him away.

"Matthew," She breathed, even more out of breath than after their argument. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips full, her eyes sleepy as if drugged by his kisses. Her small gown had slid off one shoulder, revealing her skin. She looked indescribably beautiful.

"What is it?" He whispered, kissing her lips again before dropping his mouth to her neck.

"We can't."

At this, he looked up at her. "Why not?" He asked, aware that he probably sounded like a little boy who had been told he can't have the ice cream that he was promised.

"I'm not having sex with you just because we had an argument." Mary said, regaining her faculties. As much as she wanted him physically, she wasn't about to jump into bed with him just because he'd riled her up so much that she needed a release. Besides, from the way things were going, it seemed like they'd have to collaborate on Operation Brangelina for at least another couple of weeks, and she didn't want anything to further complicate an already complicated scenario.

"But that's-" But that's not why I wanted to have sex with you, Matthew had been about to say, before stopping himself. Was that true? Was there some other reason he'd been wanting to sleep with her, beyond the need to release the overwhelming sexual tension that had steadily been building between them? He wasn't so sure. Granted, he did admire her for her strength and her intelligence, and now for her passion for a good cause, but, in all honesty, he couldn't quite tell how shallow he was being. In any case, doing anything further with her would directly go against his father's wishes. It wasn't clear how much longer this coalition would last, given the frequent clashes that had been occurring lately, in which case it would be disastrous for he and Mary to actually be involved with each other. There would be a definite conflict of interest in there somewhere. "OK, you're right." He acquiesced.

"Good." Mary said quietly, sounding equally unenthusiastic about her decision, despite knowing that it was the correct one.

"I just need to, erm…use the, er…bathroom." Matthew's voice trailed off into a whisper as he awkwardly limped out of the room.