A/N: Happy Holidays to all!
Prompt: "Please tell me you aren't searching my room for where I've hidden the presents."
Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey.
Don't Sneak, Don't Peek, 'Til Christmas
A bitter wind rattles the window frames of the cottage, howling its promise to chill anyone brave—or foolish—enough to face it.
Inside, Anna curls up against her husband's side, warm and content. A fire dances merrily in the grate, throwing swaying shadows onto the wall to entertain them. It's peaceful. Homely.
John is dozing, his head nodding forward onto his chest. He's had a long day at the hotel; it was one of those days where everything that could go wrong did go wrong. Thankfully he's always got a cool head on his shoulders in stressful situations, and he was able to put out any rumblings of discontent before they could escalate into complaints. He deserves this rest.
Johnny is stretched on the floor in front of the fireplace, looking very studious as he scrawls untidily with pen and paper.
He's seven now. Where on earth does the time go? It doesn't seem two minutes ago when he was naught but a wriggling babe in her arms, round-cheeked and chubby. He's growing like a weed now, losing his baby fat.
He no longer believes in Father Christmas. When he told her that, she'd cried later that night in John's arms. It had truly cemented the reality that he wouldn't be a baby forever.
It doesn't mean he's lost the spirit of Christmas, at least. Even knowing the truth, he's as excited as ever, and is currently preoccupied composing his Christmas list.
"There!" he announces at last, rolling onto his back and holding his list above his head like a trophy. "I'm done!"
At his shout, John jerks awake, and Anna hides her smile against his shoulder at his bewildered look.
"What's going on?" he says stupidly.
Beaming, Johnny clambers to his feet, thrusting the sheaves of paper into his face. "I've finished my Christmas list, Daddy!"
"Ah, I see," says John, grasping it in hand and squinting. Anna rolls her eyes. He keeps insisting that he doesn't need glasses, but he's not fooling her. She's going to have to give him a stern talking to one of these days. "What's on it, then?"
"Lots of things!" Johnny says eagerly. "I know I probably won't get everything, but I wanted to give you lots of choice!"
"That's a clever lad," John teases. Johnny glows. He might be Anna's image in every way, but there's nothing he likes better than his father's approval.
Anna peers over John's shoulder at the wobbly scrawl, tamping down the giggle that bubbles in her throat. Yes, he's certainly been meticulous about not letting them go short of ideas.
"I've colour-coded the ones that I'd like the most," Johnny explains, moving to clamber onto Anna's knee. She huffs at his added weight, distributing him more evenly across her lap, moving to breathe in the scent of his hair. One day he'll deem himself too big for her fussing. She wants to make the most of every moment she can.
"Very sensible," John agrees. "A lawyer in the making."
"With very expensive taste," Anna says under her breath, glancing down the list. Honestly. Sharing the nursery with the Crawley children has given their boy a longing for finery.
John only chuckles, reaching out to ruffle Johnny's blond mop of hair. It needs a trim before Christmas, Anna thinks idly, running her fingers through the strands at the nape of his neck, although she's always been partial to the way it curls slightly when it grows too much. It keeps him a boy and not a little man.
"We'll certainly do what we can, son," John says now. "Now, how about a chapter of your book before we bundle you off to bed?"
Johnny's eyes light up at the prospect. "Can I have hot chocolate too?"
"Of course," says Anna.
She leaves father and son there together on the sofa, dark hair and light bent over Johnny's book as he begins to read aloud in his confident little voice, and her heart swells with love for the two men in her life.
The November crispness gives way to December chill, and Anna decides it's time to start her Christmas shopping. Wrapping up warm, she leaves John and Johnny to take care of the hotel and ventures out to York.
She has a long, tiring, productive day.
John meets her at the train station with their son in tow, reaching out at once to help her bear the burden of her spoils.
"You look exhausted," he says.
"I am," she says. "But I'll be as right as rain when I've had the chance to put my feet up."
"I've begged some dinner from Mrs. Bewley," says John. "I didn't want you to have to cook, but I didn't trust my own skills, and I didn't think you'd want to sit in the dining room tonight."
"You are right about that," Anna agrees. "I just want a quiet night with my family."
Johnny tugs at her arm, grinning toothily. "Did you get anything for me, Mummy?"
"That would be telling, wouldn't it?" she says, tweaking his nose. "Carry this for me, would you? Good lad."
"What is it?" he asks.
"Something for Daddy," she replies. "So you've got to make sure he doesn't see it."
Nodding solemnly, Johnny draws the bag up to his chest. Anna and John exchange amused glances. He skips a little ahead of them, and Anna slips her arm through her husband's, drawing closer to his side, careful to avoid knocking into the bags and interrupting his gait.
"Did you manage to get a few things sorted for Johnny?" he asks as they walk.
She nods. "I'll show you later, after he's gone to bed. Has he behaved himself today?"
"Butter wouldn't melt."
"That's good to hear." Anna's heart swells with pride. Some boys are often rambunctious and loud, but Johnny has always been quiet and well-behaved. Oh, he has a cheeky side, to be sure, but never in wicked way.
"He charmed everyone as he always does, of course. He took some of the breakfast orders. Even the ones that went a little wrong didn't mind because he won them over with his smile."
"Perhaps we should send him out to deal with all of the grumblings," Anna jokes.
"I think he'd excel at it."
They stroll the rest of the way home in companiable silence.
"Take Johnny through to the kitchen," she tells John as they shed their outer layers in the hallway. "I'll take these things upstairs."
She notes the bright, interested gleam in her son's eyes, but before he can open his mouth, John sweeps him up into his arms with a huff, settling him on his shoulders. Johnny gives a squeal of delight, clinging to him tight.
"John, be careful of your knee," she scolds him.
"It's fine," he dismisses flippantly. "Right, little man, how about you help me set the table while I put dinner in the oven to reheat, eh?"
Ann leaves them to it, taking her spoils upstairs and stowing them in the back of the wardrobe to be hidden better later. Then, smiling, she returns downstairs to rejoin her precious little family.
Over the next few days, Anna stumbles across Johnny lingering outside their bedroom door. Whenever she finds him, he jumps and scurries away.
When she questions him about it, he only fixes her with those beautiful blue eyes and says in a sing-song voice, "I'm not doing anything, Mummy!"
She's never been able to resist those baby blue eyes. So, smiling to herself, she ruffles his hair and lets him keep his secrets.
The next couple of weeks pass without incident. The hotel isn't usually too busy over the festive period, with just a couple of bookings from visitors with family close by that they wish to spend the holidays with.
Anna is well into the Christmas spirit now, decorating with gusto for the holidays. As usual, Johnny is her fervent shadow. John doesn't share that same enthusiasm, leaving the two of them to it.
John and Johnny spend a day of their own in York, leaving Anna to run the hotel. They return in time for dinner, pink-cheeked and smiling, Johnny clutching a small parcel to his chest. He dashes upstairs with it, leaving John to stroll into the sitting room to give her a leisurely kiss. She smiles against his mouth, winding her arms tighter around his neck and keeping him against her for a beat longer.
"How was your day?" she asks, patting his chest as she withdraws to the soles of her feet.
"Hectic," John replies. "Johnny was in a mood because he couldn't find anything to get for you. But, thankfully, he found something in the end."
Anna's heart swells in her chest. It means so much to her that Johnny wanted to take the time to pick something out for her that was his choice alone. It could be a stick from the ground and she would be happy, because it meant that he'd thought of her.
"You must both be starving," she says. "Dinner will be ready in a moment."
John follows her into the kitchen, sitting himself down in one of the chairs and stretching his leg out with a groan. She'll have to see about a warm compress later. The cold weather always exacerbates it, and he's been walking on it all day. "We did manage to have tea in a nice little shop, but all this shopping has certainly worked up an appetite."
Johnny clatters back downstairs moments later, throwing himself into Anna's arms in greeting. She bends down to press a kiss to his golden hair, then sends him to sit at the table with his father.
They spend the rest of the evening in the sitting room together, under the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree, breaking out the board games and revelling in their peaceful bubble, and Anna has never been so happy.
"Mrs. Bates!"
It's the week before Christmas, and Anna is busy giving the rooms a final vigorous clean before the last of the guests for the festive period arrive. She looks up to find the young housemaid, Lilian, standing in the doorway, wringing her hands.
"What's the matter?" Anna asks.
"Oh, it's terrible!" she wails.
Anna resists the urge to roll her eyes. Lilian is a good girl, but her penchant for the overdramatics is a little taxing sometimes. "Tell me what's happened so we can fix it."
"It's the heater in the Russells' room! It's broken!"
Oh, honestly. Hardly a terrible emergency. Nevertheless, it does need rectifying. "That's fine. We have a spare at the cottage. Go and tell Mr. Bates, and he'll fetch it for you."
"Mr. Bates isn't back from town yet."
Anna pinches the bridge of her nose. Of course. She'd forgotten that John had headed into town to settle all of their accounts before Christmas. "Right. Well, give me half an hour and I can go and sort it."
Johnny looks up from the corner of the room, where he's been happily absorbed in his book.
"I'll go and fetch it for you, Mummy," he volunteers. "I know where it is. I can run fast and be back in five minutes!"
"Oh, darling, thank you, but it's fine. I can go."
"It's just a heater!" he insists. "It's not far. I can manage."
How many times has she heard those words? Johnny is so much like his namesake at times. Even now, so many years on, it still takes her breath away. She doubts that will ever change.
Anna chuckles, ruffling his hair. "Fine, fine, you can go for me. But I don't think it's so urgent that you need to run, love. You can just walk."
He nods, all solemn and serious, as if the very fate of the world depends upon him. And with that, he's gone. Smiling, Anna returns to her tasks, changing bed sheets, dusting, making sure that everything is in top shape.
Five minutes pass. Then ten. Fifteen.
Anna glances at the clock, chewing her lip. She knows that she shouldn't panic. Johnny has got to get back to the cottage, locate the heater, then bring it back here. It might be a little too heavy for his little arms; he might have put it down for a rest on the way back.
But then there's that other part of her. That nasty little voice in the back of her head, born the day that Mr. Green ripped the self-worth from her. The one that berates her now for being stupid enough to let her child do her dirty work for her. Johnny is too young to be allowed to walk back to the cottage alone. Anything could have happened to him, and here she is, utterly clueless. He could have fallen down and hurt himself. He could have been taken.
She tries to tell herself not to be so ridiculous. Scarborough is a quiet place, tranquil and slow in these winter months. Everyone knows everyone. The cottage is located just behind the hotel; if someone had got hold of Johnny, they would have been spotted on the property.
But then it's twenty minutes. Thirty. And she can ignore her panic no longer.
Untying her apron, she throws it onto the bed and dashes out of the room. She pops her head in on Lilian long enough to tell her she's just running home and she won't be long before she barrels out of the front door, and right into a hulking wall.
"Anna?"
Hands catch her elbows before she can fall backwards. In her panicked state, it takes her a few moments to comprehend that it's her husband that she's run into, back from town. She looks up to find John staring down at her, concern etched into the lines on his face. "What on earth is the matter?"
"It's Johnny," she says.
His frown deepens, worry colouring his tone. "What about Johnny?"
"I sent him back to the cottage to fetch the heater—the one here has broken. I thought he'd only be gone for twenty minutes at the most, but he hasn't arrived back yet. What if something's happened to him along the way? I should never have let him go! He's too young!"
"Keep calm," John tells her. "I'm sure he's absolutely fine. He's probably just got distracted. You know what children are like."
"You don't know that!" she snaps. "It's not at all like Johnny to not do what he says he's going to do. Oh, this is all my fault, I should never have entrusted something like that to him. I'm so stupid—"
"Enough of that," John says firmly, tilting her head up with two fingers so she's forced to look at him. "You are not stupid, Anna. Look, before we start to panic, we need to check the cottage. And if he's not there, then we start to do something about it. But until we know for certain that he's not at home, let's not jump to any conclusions."
Frustration and anger burns in Anna's blood at the fact that he can be so calm in such frightening circumstances, though the sensible part of her knows that it is a godsend that he is, because if they both lost their heads then rational thinking would be impossible.
"What are we waiting for, then?" she says tersely, and turns in the direction of the cottage. She's almost running; she knows John will struggle to catch up, and no doubt will strain his knee in the attempt, but she can't worry about that now. The single, only important thing right now is her son.
She bursts through the front door—unlocked—and races upstairs, calling Johnny's name, panicked and frightened. She charges into his room—nothing—then races to her own.
She stops short in the doorway. Overwhelming relief floods her. Confusion too.
"What on earth are you doing?"
Johnny swings around, a panicked, condemned look on his face. "Nothing, Mummy!"
Her heart is still beating far too fast, and she's still shaking as if she's just overcome a nasty bout of flu. It takes her several moments to comprehend the sight in front of her.
Johnny, and something akin to a warzone. The contents of her wardrobe are strewn all across the floor. Her drawers have been emptied, thrown pell-mell into various corners. Even her undergarments have been ransacked. Anna spies her garter on the pile and resists the urge to cover her eyes. There are some things that she'd rather her son not see.
There are heavy, uneven footsteps behind them. Moments later, John appears, panting slightly for breath, sweat at his temples.
"Is he here?" he gasps, clinging on to the banister.
"Yes," she confirms faintly.
John gives a sigh of relief, slumping over the railing to catch his breath. His face is twisted with pain—he's clearly strained his knee in his desire to hurry.
Anna turns back to her son, repeating her earlier question. "Johnny, what are you doing?"
"I'm not doing anything!" he says, but his attempt at innocence is completely contradicted by the look of panicked guilt on his face.
John limps forward, face contorted in discomfort, leaning against the doorframe to support himself. His eyes sweep over the scene before him, his mouth thinning into an unamused line.
"John, stop lying," he says.
Johnny winces at the use of his Christian name; he's only ever 'John' when he's in trouble. And Anna knows that John rarely ever gets firm with his son; she's often left exasperated at the fact that he bends to his every whim. His excuse for the coddling is that Johnny is their only child, and so precious to them because of that.
He must be very cross now.
"You've caused your mother and me a lot of fear this afternoon," he says. "You were only supposed to be ten minutes. You've been over half an hour. Did you not think that we would start to worry when you didn't come back? Anything could have happened to you!"
Johnny's lip wobbles. "I'm sorry!"
Anna sighs. "I know you are. But that doesn't explain why we've raced home to find our room looking like it's been turned over by thieves."
Johnny starts to cry. "You'll be mad at me!"
John steps further into the room, moving to sit on the edge of their bed. With a groan, he stretches out his leg in front of him, patting the quilt beside him. "Son, we're already cross with you. Cross, and relieved that nothing bad has happened to you. We want the truth of it now, no matter what that truth is."
"But I'll be in trouble!"
"You're already in trouble."
The tears fall faster. Anna sighs, looking helplessly to her husband.
Her eyes sweep over the room one more time, taking in the mess and her son's round, guilty face.
And understanding dawns.
"Please tell me you aren't searching my room for where I've hidden the presents," she groans.
The tears intensify, and she knows that she's drawn the right conclusion.
"Johnny!" she admonishes. "I can't believe you!"
"So that's why you were so eager to help Mummy," says John reprovingly. "You thought you could have a few minutes to yourself to find what presents you have for Christmas."
"And you lost track of time and didn't realise we'd be so worried about you, because in your mind you were perfectly safe at home," Anna finishes.
Johnny's face is scarlet and wet with tears.
"I'm sorry!" he wails. "I just wanted to look!"
Anna and John exchange looks. What's the point in staying angry with him? The only thing that matters is that he's safe and well. No harm has been done. Anna sighs, crossing the room to crouch down by her son's side.
"Johnny, look at me," she says gently.
Reluctantly, he raises his head. His eyes are red and swollen, and his anguished expression tugs on Anna's heartstrings. Nothing in the world could stop her from taking him into her arms, pulling him close, pressing her lips to his hair, and rocking him gently.
"It's all right," she murmurs. "Everything's all right."
With a huff, she lifts him up into her arms and moves to their bed. She settles herself down, tipping Johnny into the space between them. At once, John's arm is there to support his back, shuffling closer so that he's squashed cosily between them.
"We're sorry for shouting," he says over the sound of Johnny's sniffles. "We didn't mean to. But we were so worried that something might have happened to you. And you shouldn't be snooping in our room. That's a bad thing to do. I know you're excited for Christmas, but it's just around the corner. You don't have that much longer to wait to see what presents you have. And we want to be excited to see your excitement. It just spoils it for everyone if you already know what you're getting."
"I'm sorry," Johnny sobs again.
Anna smooths her palm over his back. "We've said, it's all right. Calm down now, love. No harm done. We'll just sit quietly until you feel you can stop crying, all right?"
Bit by bit, Johnny's sobs do subside, until he's sniffling. John produces a handkerchief from his pocket, gently wiping his son's face.
"There we go," he says softly. "All better."
"So," Anna says, giving him a nudge, "did you find anything?"
"No, Mummy," he admits. "You're really good at hiding things."
"What can we say?" John jokes. "Your mummy has been a trusted secret keeper for a long, long time. She's very good at it."
"You have to promise you won't do anything like this again," Anna says. "The searching for presents is one thing, but the not doing what you said you were is another. We don't want to shout at you, Johnny, but you really need to understand just how important it is not to disappear without telling us and just expecting us to know that you're safe. The world can be dangerous. It's our job to keep you from those dangers. So, please, next time you think about doing something like that…don't."
"I won't. I didn't mean to make you scared."
"I know, my darling." She feathers a kiss against his hair, and John reaches out to squeeze his hand. For a few minutes they sit in silence together, and Anna basks in the relief that her family is safe and well.
But they can't stay ensconced in their own little bubble forever.
"We ought to get back to the hotel," Anna says at last.
John leans across to kiss her forehead. "I'll go back. You stay here with Johnny."
"But there's so much still to do. I haven't finished cleaning the rooms."
"Don't worry about that. Lilian can handle it. She won't mind a bit of extra work to help you out, and I can always change the beds."
Anna giggles. "Now that's something I would love to see."
"I've helped you change the beds plenty of times. I think I'm quite adept now."
"But on your own? That could spell disaster."
"Well, I suppose we won't know until I try it."
They smile at each other, equal parts relief and amusement. With one last pat to Johnny's head, John heaves himself to his feet. He bends down to press a kiss to Anna's hair and limps out of the room in search of the heater that they still need to take back to the hotel. Anna listens to his uneven footsteps receding, then nudges Johnny.
"Now," she says, "how about you help me clean up this mess you've made?"
Johnny pouts.
When John returns home, it's late. Anna's left his dinner in the oven. He eats, shares a brief half hour with Johnny, then they take him up to bed. He's been subdued and compliant all evening. Anna suspects that the reality of his predicament has hit home now, though she's certain that that still has more to do with the fact that he was caught snooping rather than the enormity of their fear.
They head back downstairs for an hour to themselves. They drink tea and share idle conversation. But then John begins to yawn more frequently, and Anna sends him up to bed ahead of her while she puts things right for the night. He protests, insisting that he can help, but he's had a long day making sure they don't fall behind with Johnny's diversion, and has worked far more than he should have done.
Still, by the time Anna also collapses into bed beside her husband, she is exhausted. John rolls over at once, his arm heavy and reassuring around her middle as he pulls her closer into the warm solidity of his body.
"Are you all right?" he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her temple.
"I'm fine," she sighs.
"I know how terrified you must have been today."
"I was. And I know you felt the same."
"Johnny knows he did a silly thing. I don't think he'll do it again."
"He'd better not."
"He's just a child. He doesn't understand these things yet."
"I know. It's just…I was so frightened. He's our son, our precious boy. If anything happened to him, I don't know what I'd do."
"I know," John murmurs. "I feel the same way. But we can't live our lives thinking like that. None of us know what's around the corner. I often think it's better that way. We have to focus on the here and now. We have so much joy in our life. We should celebrate that."
Anna nods, pushing herself further into John's warmth. "You're right."
"That's a first," he teases.
"I suppose it has to happen sometimes."
But he is right. Johnny is safe and sound. And, one day in the future when he's a full-grown man, they'll be able to laugh about it. The here and now is all that matters. And the here and now has Johnny sleeping in his bed down the hall and her husband safe and well beside her.
Content, she settles back down in her husband's arms, relishing the warm solidity of him, closing her eyes as she listens to his breathing deepen, the snores begin.
Yes, she is blessed.
Christmas Day dawns with no further mishaps. Johnny wakes them bright and early, brimming with excitement. Sleepily, they follow him downstairs, where he's already rummaging beneath the tree for his spoils. John offers to make the tea and toast, and Anna sinks onto the settee, unable to stifle a yawn. It's absolutely freezing, so John builds a fire when he's finished breakfast, and Anna wraps her palms around the cup to leech heat from it.
But nothing can take away the warmth of affection as she watches her son tear into his gifts with euphoric abandon, clearly thrilled with his haul.
Another wonderful Christmas with her family. And there are so many more to come.