Soft sleepy breath brushing against the back of his neck woke Chris the next morning. It warmed his skin, tingled pleasant sensations down his spine, and won over the otherwise chilly winter morning air of his bedroom. He nuzzled back into his companion, who – still asleep – snuggled forward in response, his hand weighing on Chris's naked stomach under their thick duvet.

The room was light, the greyness of the morning giving way to a brightness obscured by the curtains at the window where beyond a sunny morning beckoned. The contrast between his morning and the past couple of sleepless nights, tormented by nightmares of his past, made that time seem like a distant memory best forgotten. He turned over, David's arm still holding him with a protective grip. David stirred in his sleep, blonde hair loose and fluffy, not only from sleep, but from Chris's hands earlier in the evening when he'd hungrily run fingers through it to entice David further down onto him. The duvet had slipped down from their shoulders, letting the cold air in. Chris held back on pulling it up again in favour of taking in the most welcome and longed-for sight in front of him. David lay on his side, lips parted, eyelashes flickering with subtle movements as though he knew he was being watched. Chris couldn't resist. He placed his hand on his broad shoulder, cautiously at first so as not to wake him, ran his hand down over David's arm, and then over his back towards his hip.

David flinched, but settled again. Chris could have sworn he'd opened his eyes for a second. David was awake, but letting him enjoy the moment.

Chris pushed himself up onto his elbow and kissed David's collarbone, then again on his shoulder.

This time, David didn't resist.

Their lips met without a word between them, David's hand found the back of Chris's neck, Chris returned his fingers to carving through David's hair, moving to push his messy fringe away from his forehead as they parted and smiled at each other, just as Chris had longed to do the moment they first met.

"You woke me," David said, not taking his eyes off him.

"I did."

"And you were watching me."

"I was."

David chuckled into Chris's lips as they met once again. "Can't a man have a moment's peace?" he asked, pushing Chris back into the pillow and making a deliberate move in straddling his arms either side of Chris's shoulders, lips curving into a delectable grin down at him.

With a single tug at his back, Chris pulled David down onto him. "Shut up," he breathed as they met in a sensuous kiss, each once growing more impatient by the second.

"Yesterday wasn't enough," Chris stuttered out, letting David explore his body. Sleep had only been a short time gone, but neither man showed any signs of drowsiness.

"Was that a statement or a question? Either way, I agree it was not." David's lips sucked at his neck, warm breath tingling over his skin, radiating down his spine.

"Not there."

David withdrew, asking him why with his quizzical frown.

"Helen."

"I thought we agreed to be open about us with her now?"

"Not that open. I don't want to scare her off again by having to explain anything if you get my meaning?" Chris said with a raised eyebrow.

"Understood. Neck is off limits, but elsewhere?" David wiggled his eyebrows with an exaggerated suggestiveness that sent Chris into a fit of giggles. How about other hidden places?

"There, you, and only you, have free rein. Touch me wherever you like."

"Wherever?"

"Yes!" Chris grabbed the pillow next to him and threw it against David's head. "Hurry up."

"Alright. You asked for it." David threw the pillow back at Chris, hitting him square in the face. Chris pushed David off him, and the two wrestled back and forth, juggling for position and the ammunition of the four pillows on the bed, until the duvet had fallen into a heap on the floor. Exhausted, chests rising and falling, they lay naked as the day they were born next to each other, laughing.

"You know that wasn't what I meant," Chris said, after catching his breath.

"Of course, but you threw the pillow, and I only acted in defence, I swear," David replied, touching his chest with a feigned look of innocence, "hand on heart."

A gentle tap at the front door below the room caught their attention.

Chris groaned, not willing to face the real world, or bring an end to their time together.

"Probably Richard, wondering why you're not at the shop." David pushed himself up and sat on the edge of the bed, the toned muscles of his back stretching as he pulled on some pyjama bottoms that hung low on his hips. David yawned and sauntered over to the window. Chris followed him as he moved, not able to pull his gaze away for a second. "We could invite him up, Thomas, too?"

"Not a chance, far too complicated for me – you too." Chris quickly dismissed the image of Thomas sweaty and unclothed before it did more harm than good, and focused instead on David, and the golden glow in his hair as he pulled back the curtain to look into the front garden below.

"Ah." David cleared his throat and looked back at him with a bashed expression. "It's your sister."

…

Chris took the stairs two at a time, pulling braces up onto his shoulders and smoothing out his mass of frazzled hair down into a style that he hoped looked a lot less disastrous. He only paused to catch his breath, supporting himself with a splayed hand on the wall at the foot of the stairs when his leg twinged with pain. David followed on the stairs behind him. Chris waited until David had fastened his shirt, disregarding the unruly state of David's honey-blonde hair, which proved untamable prior to opening the door.

"Helen," he exclaimed, greeting her with a polite smile as the fresh morning air blew around his legs. "I didn't think you'd be back so soon."

"If it's an inconvenience, I can come back later," she said, looking over his shoulder at David, then back at him, her expression carefully neutral.

"No, no. It's no bother. We—I mean I, was getting up anyway, not that I've been asleep all this time – just in bed resting, since that's what they are made for." Chris felt his cheeks redden, his chaotic words a reflection of how confusing he found it to know exactly what he could confess to her. Unwilling to exceed the previous day's boundaries, he refrained from disclosing how he and David had spent the night and morning.

Thankfully, David was smoother. "I stayed last night. We both slept in. I, for one, was exhausted from helping Mr Tomlinson with delivering many newborn lambs at the farm. We're not done on that front, and sheep can be complicated and a pain in the—" Helen raised an eyebrow. "Forgive me." David cleared his throat. "As for Chris, he'll never admit it, but his leg tires him when it plays up, and sleep helps."

Chris couldn't be sure if his and David's messy explanations convinced Helen, but he pushed aside all thoughts of that when he spied the handle of the pram behind her. "You brought your son?"

"Why yes, brother. I don't push that around for the fun of it," she said, accompanied by a small laugh and a good-natured eye-roll.

Chris let out a nervous laugh. "No, suppose not. You can leave it outside, or we could squeeze in here somewhere. David could you—?"

"I'll leave it outside." Helen carefully lifted her son out of his cosy-looking bed and onto her hip. She reached for her bag that hung on the handlebar but seemed to change her mind. "Could you take him?"

"You what? Yes, sorry, thank you." Chris's heart beamed as he held his nephew again. "You've grown," he said to the child, who smiled at him with dimples in his chubby cheeks, and grabbed a fist of Chris's shirt in his tiny hand. A look to David, his gentle smile stressed by the brightness of his eyes, spoke only of love. As David hung back to let him enjoy the moment, Chris thought he'd never have the chance to experience it again.

"It's been mere days, Chris," Helen said as she followed them inside.

"Maybe, but he's grown. I can tell. Uncle knows best." Chris said, discretely removing a pair of trousers – his or David's, he wasn't sure – from the back of the sofa and hiding them behind it when Helen wasn't looking. "Do you want tea?"

"Yes, that would be lovely."

"Have you eaten? We were about to have breakfast, if you'd care for it?" David asked.

"I have, but a few hours have passed, so I'll have something small."

"Toast? Chris will tell me I cannot be trusted in a kitchen, but that is not completely true," David said.

"I left you in charge of watching a pie I was baking and you burnt it." Chris clutched David's shoulder from behind – still holding little Chris, whose inquisitive eyes roamed the room from a height he'd never seen it from before – and leaned in close to David's ear. Helen was watching, but they'd agreed to be honest about his relationship with David, so he let the display of affectionate teasing continue. "I was lucky to have a home to return to."

David turned his neck to face him, their faces mere inches apart. "You exaggerate. He exaggerates," he said to Helen. "You can trust me with bread and a dash of butter, I think."

"Don't push it," Chris teased.

"Chris, leave him alone," Helen said, smirking through her fake scolding.

"Alright." Chris held up his free hand in surrender.

"I'll make yours too," David said to him in the kitchen's doorway. With little time to spare, Chris just recognized the familiar look in David's eyes before they kissed. It was a modest peck, but a kiss nevertheless. They both glanced at Helen, Chris's heart thudding hard in his chest. Helen glanced at her hands, but showed no objection. David spoke into Chris's ear, "We're starting slow, so I can't have you senseless against the door, not yet."

Chris blinked several times, biting his lip to hide his laughing smile, as David disappeared into the kitchen. "You'd better have little Chris back while I make the tea." Helen had gone a deeper shade of pink. Chris took a deep breath. She probably heard. David's voice scarcely whispered. "Helen I—"

"Two sugars like before, Chris," she said, as she took her son from Chris's arm, which now felt as though it had stretched a deal longer than his other arm.

"Okay. Good. Won't be long." It was early days, but if she'd heard and chosen to say nothing, Chris took it as a positive sign she was trying to get to know them. Snogging David in front of her might be off the cards, but he didn't need that. She'd opened to seeing the affection they feel for each other, with her son present, and he'd be greedy to ask for more.

...

Breakfast passed with ease and after they'd finished, Chris left David talking to Helen in the living room whilst he cleared up in the kitchen, glad of the chance for them to bond with David talking about his favourite subject – the farm. He heard the conversation pause and a moment later, David appeared behind him, giving him a tender kiss on the back of his head.

"Need any help?" David asked.

"Just about finished," Chris flopped a damp tea towel over a rail on the wall. "Hopefully you didn't bore her about farming."

"Is that even possible?" David gave him a look of mock confusion that broke into his trademarked broad grin. "Nah, I kept the subject varied, told her about Matthew, and about the lovesick idiot who's still working away fixing every little mechanical thing, hoping to be forgiven."

"Don't tease him David, Larry is trying and we can see that," Chris lowered his voice, glancing towards the door, "even if Sebastian isn't here to see his efforts. I hope you didn't refer to him as that to her."

"Of course not! Just Larry and I kept the details thin. But it's handy she knows if he's still around – which, by the way, things are highly likely – when she next visits."

"David!" Chris said, shushing him through gritted teeth.

"Sorry. We're doing okay now so we could see about helping Larry. The chap needs some encouragement and support, I think. He will not fix this on his own. I'd bet Richard could help."

"When Thomas' father's funeral is over, we should talk to him about it, and hopefully Larry won't mind us meddling on his behalf."

"He won't, not if it works, but after Tommy's father is gone, then. Tommy won't be much use at the moment, Richard neither since he's naturally worried about him. That business with his sister Margaret wasn't pleasant. She's not changed," David said, his lips pressed into a resentful grimace.

"If it were me, I'd tell them where to stick to their funeral," Chris said, earning a half-suppressed smirk of laughter from David.

"Hmm, I know you would. I love that about you." David leaned back against the cutlery draw. "Mr Barrow senior wasn't all a man, not when we were much younger. Tommy looked up to him then, but it all soured when he put a limit on the love of a father towards his son. I, for one, am glad they didn't want me there." David gained a distant look in his eyes, focusing with unnecessary intensity on the table leg. With a jolt, he coughed and snapped back into the present. "Still, we're having a good day. What are you planning for the morning?"

Chris had been about to ask what David was thinking about, but decided against it, assuming old childhood memories had resurfaced briefly. "If Helen is happy, I was thinking we'd take a walk into the village, using the path near the river since it's smoother for the pram, and see about having lunch at that cafe that opened recently. We could sit inside if she thinks it's too cold for little Chris, but we'd have the option for outside too, since it's warmer today when you're in direct sunlight. Then I could walk her to her bed-and-breakfast. My leg isn't too bad, so I can manage that."

David nodded. "Sounds good. You two—I mean three, will enjoy yourselves."

"You're not coming?"

"No, I'd thought I'd give you both some time to bond as siblings. I've been away from the farm for too long. Spring is early and Matthew can't be expected to help with the sheep on his own. I doubt he slept much last night."

"You sure it's not because we've rushed into things too much with Helen and us? If you think we have, tell me."

"No." David crossed the room and in no time Chris found himself held close, David's firm hands resting on his hips, that warmed under his touch. He reached over to the sink and turned on the tap, letting it run idle. "No," he repeated, softer that time. "We're doing well, and nothing is moving too fast. I'm being honest about my reasons. You enjoy yourselves, and then you should come to the farm – Matthew and Larry will be eager to see how you are – and you can stay with me." David leaned in closer, his lips tracing over Chris's left temple. Chris closed his eyes, breathing him in. "I enjoyed last night, very, very much, and I'd like you in my bed. Who knows? Maybe I could find that lavender oil you found so pleasurable last time? You found my massage technique eased the ache in your leg. We could try that again?"

Chris let out a shuddered breath, despite Helen only being next door. David chuckled. The hum of his lips against Chris's neck below his ear sent static through his mind that was full of memories of one night in David's annex when Chris had woken feeling the most relaxed he'd ever been. He could have sworn the scent of lavender hung in the air even as they embraced in his kitchen. "David," he spoke, his voice hoarse, "you know how to tempt a man, but I want that oil to be used for something ... else and elsewhere." The gurgle of a baby beyond the door persuaded him to relinquish the grip he'd got – seemingly subconsciously – on the back of David's trouser belt. He would have preferred to anchor onto it for dear life, to have David take the hint and push him back against the wall. He wanted David's lips, his hands all over every part of him. How he'd come to this state over mere conversation...?

Chris pushed back off David, who, even though he was close to growing aroused, understood. They'd have to save it. Helen was within earshot, waiting for one of them to return to the living room, despite the running tap and whispered words. "I'll say my goodbyes to your sister." David's index finger caught on Chris's lower lip, before surrendering it only when their lips met in a desire-filled kiss, that when David pulled back and left the room all too quickly, left Chris wanting.

...

After David's departure, the morning had meandered its way into midday and the early afternoon. Chris had taken a moment to collect himself in the kitchen, half-heartedly cursing David and that damned jar of lavender oil before he had been confident enough to return to the living room and Helen in a fit state.

They'd taken a steady paced walk along sun lit country lanes, the trees still lacking their spring greenery, but also bare of the winter coldness of spine-like branches and dark water-soaked bark. The river, still churned in full flow, but ran clear, not laden with silt like it had been in the days before after heavy rain. Chris had believed David when he'd said spring had come early. Above them in the trees, birds called back and forth with their mating calls, and Helen had pointed at a blackbird – its beak stuffed with twigs and moss pulled from the river bank – as they'd approached the village. They had taken turns to push the pram, and at one point, Chris had taken his nephew and carried him in his arms so he may see over the fence and look at the sheep in the field.

They'd taken their time in reaching the cafe in the village, and had eaten outside in the sun, little Chris sleeping whilst bundled up in blankets. After their light lunch and coffee afterwards, both of which Chris had insisted on paying for, they strolled through the centre of the village toward the post office so Helen could send a telegram to her husband with details about her travel plans back home.

Chris stood, leaning against the stone wall of the post office, gently rocking the pram with one hand, angling it so the sun kept his nephew warm, but wasn't shining directly into his eyes. The queue inside was short, so Helen didn't take long and soon returned, securing her purse and blinking into the sun. "All sorted," she said, coming to join him. "Everything okay?"

"He's perfect." Chris beamed down at the baby, his chest warming with what he supposed was pride. "Good as gold, naturally." He looked up, glancing across the street, making direct contact with Mr Carson, who slowed his pace and peered at them from under his bowler hat with a peculiar look, before muttering something to himself and continuing on his way.

"Who was that?" Helen asked with a worried frown.

"Carson, that is Mr Carson, former butler of Downton Abbey." Chris huffed to himself. "I say former butler, but he still sticks around despite Mr Barrow having been in charge for years now. Mr Barrow does a decent job, but Carson thinks he's needed."

"He doesn't like you," Helen said, as a statement, not a question.

"Could say that. He doesn't approve of people like me. I'm not too welcome at Downton when he's around. The rest of them are a decent bunch, though."

"And Mr Barrow? Does he approve of people like you? I don't suppose it's always obvious," she said, as they walked away from the entrance of the post office.

Chris couldn't help but smile knowingly to himself. "Thomas—Mr Barrow is fine. He most definitely approves." Chris refrained from saying more, not wishing to spill Thomas's secrets. "Maybe one day, when Carson is elsewhere, you'd both like to come to Downton and meet everyone."

Helen looked at him wide-eyed. "Is that allowed? Surely Lord and Lady Grantham would object?"

Chris smirked. "I'm not suggesting you pay upstairs a visit. But downstairs – I pop in all the time, Mr Ellis and David too. I'm pretty sure they'd melt at the sight of little baby Chris here."

They rounded the corner at the end of the street, the pram almost colliding with Richard, who neatly stepped to one side, just in time. "My apologies," he said, with a polite smile that split into his usual warm, charming grin. "Chris, Mrs Hastings," he said, greeting each of them whilst tipping his hat in her direction. "And this must be your nephew Chris," he added, admiring little Chris. "He's a handsome fellow, bound to steal a few hearts when he's older."

"Much like his father and brother, then it seems," Helen said.

"I have no doubt," Richard said, smiling politely. His expression changed when he spoke to Chris. "You are well, I hope?"

Chris caught onto his meaning, remembering Richard hadn't seen him since before Helen first found out about his relationship with David. That incident, although only several days before, seemed a distant memory – as though it never had happened at all. "I am thanks. I'll be back at the shop tomorrow."

"If you need more time—?"

"No, no. I'll be glad to get back to normal. You must be busy running it without me."

Richard rubbed the back of his neck. "I miss your help, I'll say that," he admitted, showing a genuine, though sheepish, smile. "In fact, I'm afraid I can't linger." He held up the handful of envelopes he'd been carrying to illustrate, "these need sending as soon as possible. I need to wire some money over to the shop account. Is there much of a queue?"

"Not too bad," Helen answered.

"Ah, good. I'll be on my way. A pleasure seeing you again, Mrs Hastings," he said, tipping his hat again – accompanied by his trademark charm-filled expression – before going on his way.

"Mr Ellis is single then?" Helen asked once they carried on their way.

Chris hesitated a moment as he considered how best to answer her. "He's ... focused on his shop."

"But he has you as his business partner to help with that, doesn't he?"

"Yes." Chris kept his eyes on the ground as they walked, aware she was still looking at him for his proper answer.

Helen looked over her shoulder once they turned into an empty street before she spoke. "Does Mr Ellis ... that is—He cannot be much like you are, can he?"

Chris slowed down, faking the need to rest his leg to buy himself time to respond. Despite trusting her more, he still didn't want to reveal his friend's secrets if he could avoid it. He watched her, looking for any signs that she meant Richard harm – he found none. He blew out his cheeks. "I cannot possibly say," he said eventually, but not without raising a suggestive eyebrow at her that said all she needed to know.

"Oh. In a way it's a shame," she began, "he is – if you don't mind me saying – rather easy on the eye. He seems like a nice person, too. I think he could make someone very happy."

A genuine laugh broke from his chest. "Who's to say he doesn't?"

"You two were never—?"

"What? No, not me. We're friends, that's all. But I'd rather not say who. It's not my place to say."

"That's fair enough. But I'm glad you know someone else, other than David, who you share that with. I imagine in a small place like Downton, there aren't many others like you."

Since her tone hadn't showed a question, and she soon changed the subject onto where they should head next as they still had some time to kill, Chris kept the private thought of how very wrong she was to himself – though he couldn't stop the sensation of lightness that ran through his limbs as he considered how lucky he was that she was mistaken.

Note: I think that this was the last Chris-centric chapter, though don't hold me to that – I don't always know where the plot takes me and the whole story isn't even fully outlined yet! Next up is Thomas again.

Btw, it seems for the 3rd Downton movie that Thomas and Guy are in it. I'm not sure how I feel about this tbh, but I've decided to do what I did for the 2nd movie – carry on as I am with this series, continuing in my Barris world and if the mood takes me I'll write anything relating to the 2nd and 3rd movies as separate works, not linked to this series.