"You can't be serious," Thomas said, leaning back on Jonsey's couch, a tumbler of malt in his hand. It wasn't the finest thing in the world… no, to be honest the liquor wasn't even fine, let alone finest. Thomas had tasted the rich stuff back at Downton, when he'd pilfered bottles under Carson's nose. Most he'd sold for a small sum, usually to a few buyers who lived no where near the village and thus couldn't easily head up to the house and reveal what he was doing, but he had taken a bottle for himself from time to time after a rough day. Never shared them with anyone else, as he wasn't foolish enough to do anything like that, but rather just enjoyed it himself. So he knew how the finest stuff truly tasted, how it washed over your tongue and down your throat with the perfect blend of smoothness and bite. He also knew what they served to working men in pubs and up at bars while one sat on old stools and asked for something to help burn away the pain of the day. The stuff in his glass couldn't compete with either of those standards. In fact he was pretty sure that Jonsey had poured using a paint can rather than a traditional glass bottle.

But he honestly didn't care because when you had worked a long day and just wanted to relax with your friend it didn't matter if the malt could strip varnish off a door. It did the job and that was all that mattered. A 'working drink for a working man'. That was how Jonsey had put it and Thomas was all too happy to agree with the assessment.

The man in question was currently sitting in a beaten up padded chair, the fabric having torn at some point and then been stitched back together with a different piece from a different chair to patch it all up. He'd tossed his jacket off… somewhere… and had his feet up on the wobbly table that sat between them, one leg somewhat balanced thanks to a small stack of matchbooks. It was much like the rest of the flat: old, salvaged, and in need of repair, but Jonsey was proud of it and the entire apartment all the same. He had shown it off to Thomas like Lord Grantham had pointed out paintings or expensive rugs to visiting dukes. He'd told Thomas once that he wanted to make it on his own, to take the money that his family had given him to help support himself and keep it all with the bank, making a bit of interest and allowing it to slowly grow. "If I just spend it I won't respect it and too many people do that," he'd told Thomas the first time he'd been invited up to his flat and Thomas had been unable to hide his surprise and mild disgust over the conditions his friend lived in. Especially since he knew from hints the other man had dropped that he could afford a far better place. " My father taught me that. I won't live here forever so why waste my money on more than I need? People don't think ahead, not with money. And they should."

Jonsey pulled him from his thoughts. "I know I'm not serious about most things-"

"You aren't serious about anything!" Thomas said with a half smirk, taking a slow pull from his glass.

Jonsey shrugged at that. "Sorry, that's not true. Because I am serious about this."

"You truly think that the British Empire won't matter as much after the war?"

"Mate, there isn't going to be an Empire for much longer. Will go the way of the Ottomons, where the only ones who remember it are scholars lecturing to bored students." He shook his head. "Already been happening… colonies rebelling, expansion stalling or even retracting… we grew big but now we're shrinking down. And this war will be the final nail in the coffin."

"So you think we'll lose to the Germans."

Jonsey shook his head, setting his glass down on the table (Without a napkin or a coaster even… Thomas could hear Mr. Carson screaming in horror over that) and rubbing his face with his hands. "No, I'm not saying that. Don't put words in my mouth because I have enough tumbling out without you adding more to them." Looking at Thomas he jabbed his finger against the table three times. "I'm saying that all the old empires are going to fall. This war is just the way we are going to wipe them all from the planet in one grand gesture."

Thomas shook his head. For how mirthful and irrelevant Jonsey could be he also had a negative outlook on major pillars of society that he made Thomas look like an optimist. "I just don't see it, especially if we win. The Germans will be dismantled of course, they'll have to be if the generals and Prime Minister don't want to look like weaklings after everything they've done to us, but we'll still stand when this is all done. And there is France and-"

"You're wrong Thomas, you're wrong. This war has opened people's eyes. It's shown them that the old ways aren't working anymore. Boys are dying in the mud right now because kings and queens and old lords with more fat in their asses than brains in their skulls decided to have a pisser. And they thought we'd all be okay being the ones on the bottom getting pissed on by all of them but that's not how things are going to work anymore. Change is coming… things are going to crumble. They already are." He leaned back in his chair. "And that's the thing the elite fear more than anything. It isn't their own failures or their own mistakes bringing down the Empire, oh no. It's that we," he thumped his chest, "will suddenly wake up and decide we're tired of them taking so much and leaving so little for the rest of us."

"So you think we'll end up like Russia? Or that Russia will be the new empire?" Thomas asked. While he would never claim to be as political as Tom he did keep track of current events as much as he could (especially now since his job kind of relied on them) and he knew about the uprising that had torn apart Russia. "You a socialist now?"

Jonsey laughed at that. "What? Grow a big bushy beard and preach about how every man deserves a fair shake? Hell no, mate, hell no. That's garbage they just tell to get their recruitment numbers up. Fact of the matter is that socialists don't understand the world. While I want to drag down the rich bastards on top of the pile it isn't because I want to do something noble. It's because I want my ass on top of the pile instead of them. And if I am smart enough and cunning enough-"

"And you think you are," Thomas said.

Jonsey raised his glass to that and gave him a mock toast before continuing. "-then I'll toss them down and I'll be on top. Then it will be my job to watch for them ones coming after me. That's the cycle and I'm not interested in breaking it. Only ones that want to do that are the ones that aren't good at playing the game." He took a sip of his drink before setting it on the table once more. "Just look at Russia, since you brought it up. All sorts of wonderful goals and claims. But mark my words… it isn't going to go like everyone is expecting who was part of that revolution. There isn't going to be some glorious new worker's paradise where the poor rise up and the evil rich are brought down and all have what they want. Human nature just ensures that will never happen. All they are doing is replacing one system with another. The cycle continues."

"But you think that England is going to lose some of its power?"

"I think they already have and it's only going to get worse when the war ends and people get final tallies of just how much damage was done because the ruling elite decided to blow up half the world." He sighed, looking at his glass. "There was more in this."

"You've been drinking it," Thomas stated with a smirk.

"I have? How can you tell?"

"Other than the fact that I watched you do it?" Thomas teased. "You get philosophical when you're drunk."

"So I do!" Jonsey said with a grin before pursing his lips. "What were we talking about?"

"The fall of the British Empire."

"Oh right. Yeah." Jonsey lapsed into silence and soon Thomas wondered if the conversation was over and done with. But then his friend suddenly perked up and began speaking again. "The war has exposed all we were told about the superiority of the British way of life as lies. We are no different than the Germans and their allies we just were slower when it came to revealing it. And people aren't going to forget this time. Not with something this big and this close to home." He shook his head. "It's so easy to brush aside talk of oppression and violence when it is happening in a land so far away from these shores that the only way most will experience it is in the works of Burroughs." Thomas' confusion must have flashed across his face because Jonsey groaned. "Tarzan, Thomas, Tarzan. But my point remains: we can push aside that which doesn't affect us but now everyone in the country has been affected. We all know someone who has suffered because of this war. We all have ourselves suffered because of this war. Can you imagine how hard it will be to get people to send their sons to go marching to some worthless speck of rock in the pacific just so the King can say he has one more flag flying than the French after the Somme? Oh no… no no no. The time of the Empire died the moment the first of our brothers died in the mud out there."

Thomas wanted to believe that. He truly did. That this was, as so many were calling it, the Last Great War, the War to End all Wars. That people would wake up and see how moronic this all had been and say, "No More". Every nightmare Matthew had predicted had come true and what Thomas was truly scared was that this would be a nightmare they would awaken from and forget, only to go to sleep again and have it sneak up upon them.

And yet…

"I think you're forgetting something rather important, Jonsey." He rolled his head back and stared at the ceiling. "You underestimate our ability to suppress our emotions." He waved his free hand about. "We get mad, say we are going to do something about it, but then we convince ourselves that things aren't so bad and force down all those bitter feelings and just… continue on."

"That suppression is why the Empire is going to fall," Jonsey argued.

"Oh come on!" Thomas exclaimed. "You can't keep saying that! Not everything that exists does so to prove you right!"

"And yet it does!" Jonsey said cheekily. "The British repress far too much. It is… a national pastime for us. People think that Cricket is our game but it's forcing our emotions down and bottling them up. But you can't keep forcing emotions into a small space like the human heart, not when its filled already with love and passion and hope and fear. You do so and eventually cracks form, things leak out… and then there is an explosion." He pressed his hands together then rapidly drew them apart, letting out a quiet 'boom'. "You can see the evidence already. Every war, every cultural revolution… they are the repression and suppression failing. The suffrage movement, Socialists, the War. And they are getting closer and closer, Thomas. Less of a gap between the great bursts of outrage. A thousand years ago you saw it happen maybe once every hundred years. 500 years ago it was roughly 100 years. By last century it happened roughly once a generation. Now we barely get one done before another starts. They are piling up on each other. And soon there will be no gaps at all and it will all come spewing out. This war won't let us suppress… it won't let us hide our true thoughts. They are going to come bursting forth and King and country are going to find we no longer have a taste for Empire-building."

"So what will this world look like that you envision?" Thomas asked, shifting forward so he could pour himself another drink. Not because he needed it to dull his senses as he found with certain people in his life, but rather because it gave him something to do while Jonsey talked so he didn't butt in with his own points. He'd found at times that if he, and Jonsey, didn't do that they'd end up talking over each other and never get a conversation done. The two of them just fed off each other, one point creating another, paths diverted as they began to go off on tangents, and by the end of the night they'd found they'd talked for hours but settled nothing. It was rather odd for Thomas as he wasn't used to having someone he could sit down and have such conversations with. At Downton things had been short and to the point, even with O'Brien, or a cagey dance of half said things that were hinted at. And now at work the only people he was truly close to were Matthew and General Lohtrop. The former he could discuss deep things with but Matthew never got truly passionate with him, not like Jonsey. And the General was more like a father, someone Thomas could go to if he needed advice but not one a person would share bawdy stories with.

"Best case and worse?" Jonsey said, slouching down in his chair. "Going with worst first then Britain becomes stagnate and remembered for only our glorious past. Despite attempts to advance and keep up with the innovations of the future we will remained trapped." He shot Thomas a sardonic look. "If you think we are caught in a past age now then things will only be worse in the future if we aren't able to move beyond our vanity for what we once were."

"Like Eygpt," Thomas said.

Jonsey jabbed a finger at him. "Exactly. Or Greece. No matter what either of them do they will always been viewed through the prism. Zeus and Ares and the pyramids and pharaohs. That will be our fate. Travelers won't wish to see modern London but knights in armor riding on horses and recreations of Camelot. No one will remember who is Prime Minister, only the names Robin Hood and Prince John. That is our fate, Thomas, if we don't adapt."

Thomas mentally shook off the image of Mr. Carson dressed in pantaloons, a powdered wig on his head as he talked in Olde English to gawking travelers. "And what should we adapt into?"

"The new empire to come."

"And that is?"

"The colonies. America."

"Oh please!" Thomas said with a laugh. But Jonsey didn't smile with him. "The Americans? You think they are the next Empire to rise up? They can't even control themselves! They… they just had a Civil War half a century ago!"

"Proves my…" Jonsey paused, realizing what he was going to say and as such he merely shook his head. "The Americans did fight in a Civil War. Because they were doing what we do now: suppressing their true emotions and thoughts. They let all their problems with slavery and the rot get bottled up and pressed down until they boiled over into violence." He shrugged. "But they've learned. It is better to let that anger and frustration and passion come forth. Messy at first, unseemly perhaps in the short run, but in the long run? Look at what they have managed to do in 150 years. They have all but conquered a land larger than Europe, brought to their knees far older powers, and established themselves as true powers on the world stage. Oh yes, dear Thomas… they are the future."

"Then I fear for our future," Thomas stated with a shudder. "Americans are cultureless, violent, and brash. And you'd have us become like them?"

Jonsey stood up and moved towards the couch, plopping down beside Thomas and taking a long pull from his glass. "I think we Brits could learn from them. Brash? Violent? Cultureless? That is humanity. And they are also filled with more boldness and bravery and passion than can be found in most of our countrymen." Jonsey leaned in close and Thomas could feel the other man's warm breath on his face and it made him suddenly feel awkward. Not in a bad way… but like he was a boy again, not quite into manhood, unsure of himself and yet excited at what the future might hold. Jonsey was staring at him and there was no smile on his lips or swagger in his movements but a war between fear and desire that made his hands twitch so much he had to set his glass on the table. "I… I think we could all be a bit more bold."

"…yes," Thomas whispered, setting his own glass down.

"And brave."

"Yes."

"And… and passionate." Jonsey said, leaning in closer so that the tip of his nose was within a hair's breadth of Thomas'. He could feel his own heart thundering in his chest as the other man reached out and took Thomas' hand in his own, running his thumb along Thomas' knuckles in slow circles. "I think… I'm going to do something very stupid right now."

"Not stupid," Thomas croaked out.

And with that Jonsey forged across the longest inch in the history of mankind and pressed his lips against Thomas'.

There was always fear when he found himself in this position. Thomas looked upon couples who could so casually kiss each other without the nagging fear that such a gesture of love could be used to destroy one's life with jealously. Thomas had kissed several men in his life and each time he'd been unable to truly enjoy it because of that terror. What made it all the worse was that he knew he was placing himself into the power of others. That the one he was with held his entire life, all his hopes and dreams, within their hands and could so easily squeeze their fingers into a fist and destroy them all. It made him not want to find love, to never be with anyone, because it was just so hard. The dancing about to try and see if one was interested, followed by the gut-clenching fright that he had read into things wrong and that he was making a mistake. And finally those horrible moments when his lips brushed against another man's and he waited for rejection and revulsion. And even if there wasn't any of that the one he was with could still destroy him, for they knew that they held power over him and thus could make him do all they wished without him having any way to fight back.

With Jonsey there was fear. But as the kiss continued on, turning from chaise and cautious to deeper and passionate, the terror was what this all could mean. How it could ruin their friendship by taking them both to a level neither of them were ready for. Or the nervous butterflies that flowed in his stomach at what might come next.

And yet Thomas couldn't find it within himself to break away.

Finally though the two did so, both panting hard, foreheads pressed against the other's as they struggled to regain some measure of control.

"I think… I want to do that again," Jonsey whispered.

Thomas let out a light laugh, reaching up and cupping the other man's face and raising it up so he could look him in the eye. "Me too."

~MC~MC~MC~

Author's Notes: So someone once asked me on another story how I, as a straight man, can write gay romance. The answer was rather simple and I think disappointing to them: down to its core romance is romance. If you begin thinking of it solely as 'gay' or 'straight' you do it a disservice. Now, don't get me wrong, they are different. Especially in this era the story takes place in. BUT… at the core I write it like I would write any romance and build from there.

So for our plot bunny I actually want to focus on something that, strangely enough, rarely gets the sole focus in a Downton Abbey fic: the Downstairs. While the Downstairs does get focus in fics unless it is an AU about Carson and Mrs. Hughes (which seem to be the biggest type of fic there is) we rarely get solely Downstairs stories.

The premise started a few months before the events of the series. During a visit to the London house Thomas is given the chance to have the night off and he goes to explore the city. However, The Duke of Crowborough, having decided that Thomas is a loose end he doesn't like floating around, hires men to murder him. Thomas is attacked, with the men mocking him about being gay, only for a shot to ring out. In hobbles John Bates with a revolver, telling them to get the hell away from the boy. The goons scatter and Bates helps Thomas up. After a few words Bates convinces Thomas to go have a drink with him. Over the course of the night the two talk; Bates states he doesn't care if Thomas is gay and in turn Bates admits he was in jail. By the end of the night the two shake hands in friendship.

Cut to the first episode. Bates arrives at Downton… and Thomas is excited to see him. Bates is thrilled to see Thomas too and they shake hands, much to the surprise of everyone.

And thus our fic: what if Thomas and Bates had been friends at the start of Downton Abbey? How would it affect things downstairs if the two were friendly with each other? There are a lot of Want for a Nail that would occur. The likes of Carson would distrust Bates all the more and take FAR longer to warm up to him. Anna and Bates might take longer to get together… or soon if Thomas pushes his friend to stop being stupid. Where would O'Brien fit in this… would she warm up to Bates and make them a trinity? Or would it cause her and Thomas to fall out far faster than in canon? It would also allow for ripples in the timeline… Pamuk, for example. Bates might keep Thomas from kissing him, thus preventing Mary's rape… but that could also mean that Pamuk visits more and someone else becomes his focus (and as much as it hurts to type this… what if he visits a second or third time and attacks Sybil? Of course, if the visit is when Tom is around it is possible that Tom would find out and him and Gwen would take revenge on Pamuk). Or the War? Or when Vera showed up… if Bates has Thomas in his corner I could see Thomas going to war against the woman to protect his best friend.