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Footman in Training	By : imdirty Category: 1 through F > Downton Abbey Views: 2654 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Downton Abbey and am not making money from this story. And I'm hoping I'm doing this disclaimer thing right :)

Chapter List
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Thomas caught first site of Nora’s car approaching in the distance. He asked Mr. Molesley to tell Mr. Carson that Nora was arriving, and then for Mr. Molesley to join him outside to fetch the little girl’s bags. Thomas crept past the boot room where Price was shining shoes alongside Miss Baxter. David got to see her off on the train, Thomas thought, it’s only fair that I get to welcome her back.

Thomas made it outside before Mr. Molesley. He stood at attention, a light snow falling around him just as it had when Nora departed. As the car circled around, Thomas saw Nora’s little gloved hand waving to him furiously from her window. She began opening her door before the car even came to a complete stop.

“Careful, little lady!” Thomas cautioned as he sprinted to Nora’s door.

“Mr. Barrow!” Nora squealed. She stretched her arms out, reaching for Thomas. He let her wrap her arms around him and gave her a tight hug before putting her down on the ground.

Nora turned back to the car and strained to reach for her stuffed rabbit and bear. Thomas reached over her head and pulled them out for her. Mr. Molesley finally arrived outside and unstrapped Nora’s luggage from the car.

“You were right,” Nora said, taking her bear and rabbit from Thomas.

“What was I right about this time?”

Nora tucked both animals under one arm and held Thomas’s hand in the other, leading him to the house. “I was nice to people, and guess what? I made a best friend!”

“That’s wonderful! What’s her name?”

“Her name is Ruby. She has a mother, but no father, and no brothers or sisters either. I taught her how to skip rope and she taught me how to play marbles. She’s smarter at math than I am, but I’m better at reading and writing, so we help each other with our school work.”

Thomas stopped Nora before they reached the great hall. “It sounds like you made a good choice for a best friend. Now, are you ready to see the Christmas tree?”

Nora jogged in place. “Yes! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

“It’s in the hall.”

Nora tossed her hat off her head and ran, leaving Thomas to catch it. He snatched it in the air with one hand.

“It’s incredible!” he heard Nora yell before he even turned the corner.

Lord and Lady Grantham descended the stairs, smiling at Nora, who was walking in circles around the tree.

“Welcome home,” Lady Grantham said as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

Nora took another long look at the tree and then turned her attention to Lady Grantham. “Thank you. I’m pleased to be back.”

“Did you see the special ornament?” Lord Grantham asked.

“I don’t think so,” Nora said as Thomas took her animals from her momentarily to take off her overcoat. “Will you show me?”

Lord Grantham took Nora to the tree and bent down, searching for one ornament in particular. “Ah, here it is,” he said, dropping to his knee. “This one.”

Nora took the ornament from the tree carefully and held it out, twisting it in her fingers. It was made of silver glass, with Nora’s name and the year in pink and gold paint. She held it higher so that the light glittered off the iridescent glass.

“Do you like it?” Lord Grantham asked.

Nora hung the ornament back on the tree. “Very much. Can I hang it in my room when Christmas is over?”

Lord Grantham looked up at Lady Grantham. “Do you have any objections?”

“None at all,” Lady Grantham replied. “You can hang it up all year if you like.”

“Thank you. It’s the best one on the whole tree.”

Nora followed Lady Grantham on a tour of the other Christmas decorations, and Nora chattered away while they walked. Lady Mary and Lady Edith joined their father in the hall, watching Lady Grantham stroll the perimeter with Nora.

“I think they bonded on the trip to France,” Lord Grantham explained in response to Lady Mary’s baffled expression.

Nora saw the two women looking at her and waved.

Lady Edith smiled and waved back, and Lady Mary raised her hand in the air slowly.

“Are you certain they returned the same little girl we sent two weeks ago?” Lady Mary asked Lord Grantham.

“If not, I’m happy to keep this one,” Lord Grantham replied.

When Price was finally able to see Nora in her room later in the day, as promised he brought his list of things she missed while she was gone. In exchange, she handed him her list, twice as long as his.

“I will read this and write down my questions,” Nora advised, “and then we can discuss things in detail. You will do the same with the list I gave you.”

“Yes, Miss Nora.”

Nora laughed and hugged Price around his waist. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Price said, bending to return the hug.

Price went from Nora’s room to find Thomas. Thomas sitting by the fire in the servant’s hall, reading the paper, a cigarette pressed between his lips.

“Working hard?”

Thomas rolled his eyes upward to glance at Price, then set them back on the paper. “I’m allowed a break,” he said without taking the cigarette from his lips.

“Can you give me the key to your suitcase, or open it for me? I need some of my money.”

“For what?” Thomas asked, exhaling through his nose. “I thought you were saving it.”

“Right, I am. I saved some for Christmas. I need to buy my niece and nephew their gifts.”

Thomas shook out the paper and turned the page. “Key’s in the top left-hand drawer of my dresser. Help yourself, you can’t find anything more embarrassing than the last time you were in that suitcase.”

Miss Baxter looked up from the needle and thread in her hand. “Where’s he running off to?” she asked as Price left the servant’s hall swiftly.

“I held onto some money for him so that he didn’t go out and blow it. Now digging into it to buy gifts for his brother’s children.” Thomas thought for a moment, then folded his paper. “I should make sure he doesn’t take too much. He needs to save it for himself.” He stood and snuffed out his cigarette in the ashtray on the mantle, then headed up to find Price. Miss Baxter smiled to herself and returned to her sewing.

“How much of it did you take?” Thomas asked Price as Price replaced the key in the drawer.

“Half.”

Thomas shut the door. “Half? Your nephew won’t even remember this Christmas, why are you spending so much?”

“What’s better to spend it on than the two of them?”

“Yourself. Save it. You may need it one day.”

Price groaned and hung his head. “You are so boring. Fine.” He took one of the bills from his pocket and slapped it on Thomas’s dresser.

“Come on. At least one more.”

Price took another from his pocket and slapped it down on top of the other.

“Stop sulking, this is for your own good.”

“Where’s your Christmas spirit?”

Thomas flicked Price’s bowtie with his finger. “You killed my spirit when you refused a kiss the last time I went for one.”

“Not this again.”

“I’m going to complain at least daily until you give up on this ridiculous scheme of ‘being friends’.”

“How do you figure it’s a scheme?”

Thomas took the key and Price’s two bills and brought them to his suitcase. “I haven’t figured that out,” he said, kneeling, putting Price’s money back, “but it’s some kind of scheme.”

“It’s almost our tea time,” Price said, changing the subject. “I’m headed down.”

“Right behind you,” Thomas said as he pulled himself to his feet.

Mr. Carson handed out the second post of the day as the servants had their tea. A small box arrived for Price. Per usual, his sister-in-law was proactive in her gift-giving, and inside the box were two Christmas gifts. One was a jigsaw puzzle, which he promptly asked Mr. Carson if he could set it up in the servant’s hall later (“Yes you may,” Mrs. Hughes replied for Mr. Carson.) The second was a small box with an envelope tied to it. Price opened the letter, and after reading just the first few words, the color drained from his face. When he finished reading, he stared at it a few moments longer, then folded it up and put it back in the larger box without opening the other gift.

Thomas waited for tea to clear and the servants to disburse before asking any questions. Price remained in his seat, looking down at the box.

“Not a welcome gift, I take it?” Thomas asked.

Price slid the letter across the table. “No, it is. You can read it.”

Thomas opened the letter and checked with Price again for permission before reading.

Dear Davey,

The doctor says I won’t be around come Christmas, and so I’m writing this now while the weather's still warm. How strange to write a Christmas letter with the birds chirping and the sun shining. Even stranger that you will read this after I’m gone. I’m going to seal this so your eyes are the only ones that read it. Marie promises to give this to you, along with my gift.

We’ve had our troubles, you and I. I hope you know that despite them, I’ve always loved you. You were a good lad and you are a good man. You’ve conquered quite a lot in your short life. I’m proud of you for how far you’ve come.

It’s no secret that your brother will take over the shop, and yet I still haven’t truly accepted that I won’t pass it down to you. You’re my first born and my special boy. I should have been able to hand the reigns over to you. It’s neither of our faults that it can’t be that way, but I’m still heartsick about it. I worry about Sammy’s ability to keep things afloat, but I never would have worried if it were you. If things got hard, I know you’d never give up and shutter the windows.

I only say this so that you know I believe in you. Don’t feel guilty for one second. I’ve felt enough guilt for the both of us. If I could do it all again, I would do everything to make sure you inherited the shop. I love your brother dearly, but this should have been your rightful path.

That aside, what I’m leaving you is more important than the shop. Plenty of shops exist, but your mother was one of a kind and so was our love. I’m leaving her engagement ring and both of our wedding bands to you. No worldly possession could mean more to me. Do with them what you will, they’re yours now.

I wonder if I’m a coward for not saying these things to you directly or giving you these rings while I’m still alive. Just know I did the best that I could, and that I never stopped loving you, not for a moment.

All of my love,

Papa

Thomas folded the letter and slid it back across the table to Price. “You don’t want to open the box and look at them?”

“Not here or now. I’ll save it for Christmas.”

Thomas nodded. “That sounds like a good idea. If you want company when you open it, come and find me.”

“I might. Thank you, Thomas.” Price took the box under his arm and headed to his room.

Thomas realized he was tensing his shoulders and relaxed. He smoked a cigarette, then went to check on the what the kitchen staff was up to.

“What is it?” Daisy asked Mrs. Patmore, holding a handwritten recipe.

“Instructions for a bûche de Noël,” Mrs. Patmore replied.

“Right, like I know what that means.”

Thomas looked over Daisy’s shoulder. “It’s a yule log cake.”

Daisy looked up at Thomas. “How do you know that?”

“My mother made them for Christmas.”

“She did?” Mrs. Patmore asked, taking the recipe from Daisy. “That sounds like a lot of fuss for a family’s Christmas pudding.”

“Well she was a cook,” Thomas said, helping himself to some candied cranberries that had rolled away from a larger pile on the counter.

Mrs. Patmore brushed the other rogue cranberries back into the pile. “What kind of cook?”

Thomas made a sweeping gesture with his arm. “In a kitchen like this before she had us. After that, she would still go to work when they needed her help. Mostly holidays or special celebrations.”

“I find it odd that in all this time, you never mentioned that your mother was a cook,” Mrs. Patmore said.

Thomas shrugged. “I didn’t figure anyone would care.”

“Why wouldn’t we care?,” Daisy asked, handing Thomas a piece of candied orange peel.

Thomas answered while chewing. “I’ve always been more pest than pal ‘round here.”

“Because you behave like a pest,” Mrs. Patmore said. “When you’re pleasant, it’s no trouble having you around. Except for when you eat my food and stand underfoot,” she added, nudging Thomas out of her way.

“Then don’t make such delicious food,” Thomas replied. He stole one last cranberry before going upstairs to help set the dining room for dinner.

Thomas was halfway through setting the table when Mr. Carson joined him.

“No David or Mr. Molesley?” Thomas asked, placing a fork on the table with a light hand.

“David had an errand, Mr. Molesley has his half day. We’ll make due. David will be back before service.”

“Where’d he go?”

Mr. Carson put on gloves and helped Thomas with the silverware. “Thirsk.”

“For what?”

“He said Christmas errands.”

“What would he need in Thirsk that he couldn’t get in the village?”

Mr. Carson sighed. “I don’t know. Why don’t you save the line of questioning for David when he returns?”

Thomas did, in fact, save a line of questioning for Price, but was first distracted by one of Price’s obvious errands; a haircut. His hair was much shorter, styled with barely any pomade to hold it in place, unlike his former look.

Thomas pulled Price aside in the hall before supper. “I like the new style. I can’t wait to run my hands through it.”

Price ran his own hand through his hair and smiled. “Sorry, you’ll have to wait.”

“So what were your other errands this afternoon?”

“Remember that money I took, and how I was going to spend it? Hold onto your hat, Thomas, but I was out spending it.”

“All of it?”

“What is your obsession with my finances?” Price asked with a little laugh.

“I just want to make sure you look out for yourself. What if your situation were to change, and you needed to break into your piggy bank?”

“You’re cute,” Price whispered. “Nothing in my world is changing imminently. I have savings, and I’ve been saving all of my watch repair money. Have you?”

Thomas chewed the corner of his lip and waited for a hallboy to pass before speaking. “I would if I weren’t paying down debt with it.”

Price’s heart skipped with sudden guilt for flaunting his small windfall. “Do you need to borrow some from me, then? No strings attached.”

“No. God, no,” Thomas said with chagrin.

“The offer wasn’t meant to be insulting.”

“My point,” Thomas said, taking a step forward to close the gap between them, “is that I don’t want to see you in the same position I’m in. Don’t squander your savings.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

Thomas looked up and down the hallway, and certain no one could see them, ran his hand through Price’s hair. “So soft,” he whispered.

“Don’t pet me in the hallway.”

“Can I pet you in the bedroom?”

Price ducked as Thomas raised his hand to touch his hair again. “I’m going to eat before someone turns a corner and catches you behaving badly.”

“Blame yourself for putting me off,” Thomas said quietly as they walked to the servant’s hall.

After supper, Thomas went up to his room to work on watches. His conversation with Price in the hallway reminded him that he hadn’t delivered any in the last week, and he could use the money. After an hours of frustration, he went to Price’s room.

“I can’t do it,” he complained as he barged in through Price’s bedroom door.

Price looked up from his novel. “Did I miss half a conversation? You can’t do what?”

Thomas dragged a chair next to the bed and and tossed a gold pocket watch onto Price’s open book. “I’ve been working on this bloody thing for hours. I’ve tried everything. I can’t fix it.”

Price picked up the watch and closed his book. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and held the watch to the light. He opened the back and took a quick look inside. “Nothing looks broken.”

Thomas pulled his chair closer for a better look. Both men hunched over the watch. “Yes, but it’s not working.”

Price tried to wind the watch, but it wouldn’t budge.

“See? See, I told you.”

“Settle down. There’s no trouble the trouble inside the watch, but it doesn’t work. What else do you think could be the problem?”

Thomas sighed and met Price’s eyes. “Well I don’t know, Professor Price. Can you just tell me instead of instructing me?”

Price turned the watch over in his hand. “Can you grab tweezers?”

Thomas grumbled something Price couldn’t hear as he fetched tweezers from Price’s supply of tools. He handed them to Price and sat back down.

“Thank you.”

“If you fix this in less than a minute, I swear I’ll scream.”

Price chuckled and opened the glass front of the watch. He handed the tweezers back to Thomas and held the watch out in his open palm. “Poke the minute hand.”

Thomas grumbled again and leaned closer. He tapped the watch’s minute hand lightly with the tweezers. Price tried to wind the watch again, and the watch’s stem turned easily. When Price finished winding it, it began ticking.

Thomas grabbed the watch from Price’s palm and clapped the glass front shut. “Hours, and that’s all it was.”

“There, there,” Price said, patting Thomas’s thigh. “You should have come to Professor Price earlier.”

“You’re not helping things.”

“Thomas, I’ve seen hundreds of stuck minute hands. You learn by doing. You haven’t seen one, so you didn’t know. Now you know, and it won’t trip you up next time.”

“What a stupid little thing. I looked at every other blessed part.”

“Sometimes we overlook the easy answer. You won’t overcomplicate it next time.”

Thomas’s patted Price’s thigh, higher up than Price had patted his.

Price smiled. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Thomas rubbed Price’s thigh. “Oh, I thought when you touched my leg we were moving on to other activities.”

“Didn’t I say no ‘activities’?” Price asked as he held Thomas’s hand steady. “That means no rubbing, too.”

“Come on, this is ludicrous.”

“Less than two months, you can make it.”

Thomas lifted Price’s hand and kissed the back of it, an amorous smile playing on his lips. “My head's clear, I clearly want you, there’s no need to wait any longer,” he said, kissing Price’s knuckles softly.

“If I’m your one and only, than it shouldn’t be a problem waiting, because you’ll have me forever after.”

“Yes, but I’m feeling randy *now*.”

“Then it will be that much sweeter later,” Price said with a smile, taking his hand back from Thomas’s.

Thomas held Price’s other hand. “Later is now. I already told Eric I can’t be with him.”

The smile faded from Price’s lips. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I spoke to him about his letter. I told him I’m yours, and yours alone.”

Price took his other hand from Thomas’s as well and looked at Thomas uneasily.

“Why are you looking at me like that? You don’t believe me?”

Price shook his head. “No, I believe you said it. I just don’t believe you meant it.”

“Stop this,” Thomas snapped. “If I didn’t mean it, why would I say it?”

“I should have said; I believe you think you meant it.”

Fire rose in Thomas’s chest. “I ended things, isn’t that what you wanted?,” he asked sharply. “I professed my love for you and told him that he and I will never be together. He hung up brokenhearted. Is that not enough? Should I have cut out his actual heart and brought it back to you on a platter?”

Price shrunk away from Thomas, sitting back further on the bed. “I wanted you to take time to really think about it. Now you’ve acted impulsively. What if, a few weeks from now, you realize I’m the one you should ended things with?”

“That’s not gonna happen.”

“You can’t say that for certain.”

“What’s done is done, now what?” Thomas asked with wide-eyed exasperation. “I can’t travel through time and unsay what’s been said. What do you need in order to believe me?”

“I don’t know, maybe I need time.”

“Time to keep waiting, to keep being together while not being together? What do you gain by continuing to put me off?”

Price looked down and played with his cufflink. “If you can’t wait a few weeks then you don’t really want me.”

Thomas stood up and put took a firm hold under Price’s arm, pulling Price to his feet. He held Price’s face up to his in both hands and stared into Price’s eyes. “I love you, I want you, I need you, David. Of course I could wait, but there’s no reason to, unless you can give me a good one right this minute.”

Price tried to look away from Thomas, but Thomas held his face steady. “Alright. Let go and I’ll tell you.”

Thomas dropped his hands, but kept his hard stare.

Price looked down and closed his eyes. “I want you to long for me the way you’ve longed for him.”

“What are you talking about?”

Price opened his eyes, looking up without lifting his face. “I’ve been the one pursuing you all this time, begging you to choose me. I suppose I wanted to be pursued. Then I’d know you’ve really chosen me.”

“That’s not true, this relationship flows in both directions.”

“I had to all but attack you the first time we were intimate.”

“I had good reason not to come onto a man in this house.”

“What reason?”

Thomas loomed over Price, the fire still in his chest. “Because the last time, it nearly got me fired without a reference.”

“Oh, Thomas,” Price whispered, reaching up, pulling Thomas’s face down to his. He laid a tender kiss on Thomas’s lips. “How could I have known?”

Thomas was disarmed by the kiss. He rested his forehead against Price’s. “It was pathetic, pining after someone who would never have me.”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“Well he wouldn’t have any man,” Thomas said, placing his hands on Price’s hips.

“Then you’re certainly not pathetic,” Price said, sliding his hands from Thomas’s face to his shoulders. “Hasn’t everyone like us gone through that at least once?”

Thomas swayed with Price as if music was in the air around them. “More than once for me,” he said, pulling Price closer.

“Me, too.”

“Back to the topic at hand. You want to be courted, is that it?”

Price tipped his face up to Thomas’s, a serene smile on his lips.

“Is it?”

Price gave a little shrug.

Thomas slid his hands up to Price’s waist. “Is it?”

Price bit his lip and looked away.

Thomas pressed his fingers into Price’s sides. “Don’t make me tickle it out of you.”

“No, don’t,” Price said, wiggling. “You shouldn’t tickle me.”

“Because…?”

Price gave Thomas his puppy pout. “It, uhm. It kind of…”

Thomas pressed his fingers harder.

“No! No. Yes, I want to be courted.”

“It kind of what? Tell me,” Thomas said, a gleam in his eye.

Price rubbed his lips together and looked up at Thomas. “It kind of turns me on,” he admitted.

“Does it now?” Thomas asked, cocking his head. “That’s a bit naughty. I’d love to know the origins of that little fetish.”

Price tensed his muscles instinctively. “I don’t know, I just-”

Thomas squeezed Price’s sides, shutting him up mid-sentence. Price struggled to contain a squeal as he writhed and tried to pull away. He held Thomas’s wrists, trying to pull Thomas’s hands off, but it only encouraged Thomas to squeeze harder.

“That’s not fair!” Price whined, squirming.

“Never said it was.” Thomas ceased pinching Price’s sides and put his teeth lightly against Price’s neck, below his ear.

“Oh god, please don’t.”

Thomas let out a low growl and nibbled Price’s neck. Price laughed and tried again in vain again to escape. Thomas walked Price backward to the bed. “Lay down or I’ll bite again.”

Price laid down. He flinched and covered his sides as Thomas sat next to him.

“Are you ticklish there?” Thomas asked, pointing at Price’s inner thigh.

Price pressed his knees together and nodded.

Thomas jammed his hand between Price’s thighs just below his groin and squeezed. Price tried to yank Thomas’s hand out from between his legs, pressing his lips together to stop his giggles from bursting out. Little tears appeared in the corner of his eyes and he covered his mouth with his hand as a giggle escaped.

“You weren’t joking,” Thomas said, taking his hand from Price’s leg to grab Price’s crotch.

Price kept his hand over his mouth, his body still twitching from Thomas’s tickling.

Thomas squeezed Price beneath his hand, and Price moaned into his palm. “Well,” Thomas said, rubbing Price, “I guess we can explore this more come February.”

“What?” Price asked, the word muffled by his hand.

“Nothing until Valentine's, your words, not mine,” Thomas replied, taking his hand back from Price.

Price sat up quickly. “You’re a bastard.”

Thomas lit up with a wicked grin. “It will be that much sweeter later. Isn’t that what you said?”

Price grabbed Thomas’s hand it put it back between his legs, but Thomas pulled away and stood up. “Ah ah, no no. I’m following orders that came from your very lips.”

“My lips are sorry. My lips were wrong.”

“Your lips can see the rest of me in what, eight or so weeks?” Thomas asked, walking to the door.

Price crawled to the end of his bed and sat up on his knees. “My lips are ready and willing!” he said, holding out his hand dramatically. “Come back to them!”

Thomas raised his eyebrows, the grin still on his face, and left the room.

------------------------------------------------------------

In the days leading up to Christmas, Thomas tuned out much of the holiday activity in the house, instead preoccupied with his supply of watches in need of repair. At first, he was most concerned with fixing them quickly to earn as much as possible. Shortly after, he forgot about the money and became more concerned with honing his skills. Price was so certain Thomas would receive an offer from his brother, but Thomas remained unconvinced that it would be so easy. He barged through Price’s door multiple times with one watch-related conundrum or another, irritated each time that Price could solve the problem in minutes.

“Your frustration isn’t helping. In fact, it’s only hurting you. Would you attack a clock like you’re attacking that watch?”

Thomas loathed when Price was so obviously right. “No, but clocks come easier to me.”

“So will watches. A little patience goes a long way.”

“I’m allergic to patience.”

Price tuned out much of the holiday activity as well, but for different reasons. The letter from his father had awoken feelings he thought were left in the past. He eyed the package on his dresser each morning, not certain that he wanted to open it at all let alone so soon. Nora’s excited countdown to Christmas made him feel foolish by comparison. Here was a little girl who also lost her father recently, too, he thought, and yet she was still able to find joy in the holiday.

The night before Christmas eve, the staff was occupied with final touches; cooking, baking, polishing, scrubbing, gift wrapping. Price took advantage of the empty dorms to take a leisurely bath. He filled the tub far past the point he normally would and submerged himself. He tipped his head back, his ears under water, and closed his eyes. He focused on the amplified sound of his pulse in his ears, the steam in his lungs, the warm water covering almost all of his body. He stayed nearly still, other than occasionally streaming handfuls of water through his fingers. By the time the water was cool, he finally felt relaxed for the first time in days. He sat up and drained the water, staying in the tub until the final drops disappeared down the drain.

He dried himself, then used the towel to wipe the steam from the mirror. He frowned at his reflection as he applied shaving cream to his face. The haircut hadn’t helped. Despite updating the hairstyle he had modeled after photographs from his father’s younger days, he was still almost identical to the man in those pictures. When his father was alive, it was a comfort to look in the mirror and see the man from his childhood. In light of the letter, it felt like he was summoning a spirit by looking at his own reflection. He finished shaving, then dressed and left without looking back at the mirror.

“Why so mopey?” Thomas asked as they passed in the hall.

“I wish Marie never sent that letter. It’s like reliving my father’s death, but somehow worse.”

Mr. Mosley overhead the conversation from his open door. “It isn’t usually a straight path from grief to healing,” he said from the doorway. “Sometimes you dip down again before you come back up, especially around the holidays.”

“Well I’ve certainly dipped,” Price said. He wished Thomas and Mr. Molesley goodnight and went to his room.

Price shuffled out of bed early the next morning, avoiding looking at the box on his dresser or the mirror above it. He dressed and went to the great hall. The maids hadn’t even built the morning’s fires, and so the house was nearly silent. He stood in the shadow of the Christmas tree, looking it up and down, willing it to spark something inside him that would allow him to enjoy the coming festivities. Neither of his parents would have wanted him to stand there feeling numb and hollow, but telling himself that over and over wasn’t enough to ignite the spark, either. He gave up and went downstairs.

To his surprise, he saw from down the hall that Thomas was already up and helping in the kitchen, apron on and hands busy. He watched through the glass as Thomas joked and laughed with Daisy and Ellie, all of them boasting smiles as they worked. Thomas saw him and waved him into the kitchen, pointing at his own apron and then to Price. Price removed his jacket and put on an apron, and took a spot at the counter next to Thomas.

“You still look glum,” Thomas said as he passed Price a knife and cutting board.

Price took both items, then some celery from Daisy. “I’m glum about being glum. Maybe I’ll perk up this evening. It’ll be fun watching the village children open their gifts.”

“It’ll be more fun when we open ours tomorrow,” Ellie said.

“My last employers weren’t very generous,” Price said, slicing into his celery stalks. “I don’t expect something extravagant, but a token gift would’ve been appreciated. You work your life away for them, at least one day a year they could give you something thoughtful in return.”

Thomas, Ellie, and Daisy all exchanged glances.

“That doesn’t sound much like you,” Daisy said.

Price shrugged. “It’s the glum talking.”

“Well they’re generous enough here,” Thomas said cheerfully. “I’m sure you won’t be disappointed.”

Price couldn’t help smiling at such a bubbly Thomas. “No, you’re right. Why am I worrying about my past employer when I now work for one of the best?”

“Precisely,” Thomas replied, scraping chopped carrots from his cutting board into a bowl, “so stop brooding.”

“I’ll try to put my brooding aside. I can pick it back up after Christmas.”

“No, then we have New Years and the servant’s ball,” Daisy said, “you have to wait until they’re over.”

“Servant’s ball,” Price said, rolling his eyes.

Thomas rolled his eyes in return. “Now what’s wrong with the servant’s ball?”

Price scrunched up his nose. “They’re insulting, aren’t they? Like it’s some big joke that the servants would dare drink and dance upstairs for the night.”

“It’s not like that here,” Daisy said. “They’re very respectful to us.”

Price scraped his celery into the bowl on top of Thomas’s carrots. “I’ve never heard of a servant’s ball that didn’t end in at least one of the servants embarrassing themselves.”

“That doesn’t tend to happen here,” Thomas said. “Who knows, maybe you can be one of the first.”

“I’ll try not to break the streak,” Price replied.

Price spent the rest of the day shadowing Thomas, joining in every activity no matter how mundane. Thomas took notice, but enjoyed it, glad Price wanted nothing else but to be close to him for the day.

“You could start smoking,” Thomas suggested when Price followed him to the courtyard. “Always helps me avoid a case of the sads.”

“I only like cigars,” Price said, “and that’s a bit too expensive a habit.”

“I didn’t know you liked them,” Thomas said, smiling, imagining Price’s lips wrapped around a cigar.

Price put out his hand. “Let me try it.”

Thomas took a drag and looked at Price with a skeptical eye. “I thought you’ve tried them before.”

“Not for some time.”

“Well, you’re not trying it today.”

“Do you have any cigars stashed away, then?”

Thomas tightened his scarf against the cold. “Flasks of contraband alcohol, I can help with. I’m afraid I’ve nothing to smoke but these.”

“Fine, then I’ll take the alcohol.”

Thomas coughed. “Don’t make me laugh when I’m inhaling.”

“Do you have any? If yes, can we drink it tonight?”

Thomas shook his head. “I don’t like the idea of you drinking when you’re so down, but I’ll come to your room after the hoopla dies down tonight and keep you company ‘til you fall asleep.”

“That sounds better then a cigar or a flask.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Thomas said as he snuffed his cigarette out beneath his shoe..

Price was forced to part from Thomas when it came time for the tenants and villagers to arrive. He collected overcoats with Mr. Molesley, and was taken aback by the number of visitors. The farms and village seemed small, but there were a lot of people arriving, even for the great hall to hold. He looked for Thomas across the sea of people, and caught sight of him by the punchbowl, passing out glasses to the guests. Though Thomas didn’t see him looking, it was still a comfort to simply set eyes on him.

When he acclimated to the crowded hall, the little box on his dresser was back on his mind. At least Thomas will be there when I open it, he thought.

Nora wound her way through the crowd to find Price. She pushed a small, folded piece of paper into his trouser pocket, giggled, and then disappeared back into the crowd. He unfolded it immediately.

Hi David. I like your new hairstyle. I have a present for you so come get it tomorrow. You don’t have worry if you don’t have a present for me. I have more money than you do so it’s fine.

Price laughed out loud, then looked up to find Thomas beside him. He handed Thomas the note.

Thomas read it and smiled. “The child has a way with words.”

“In fairness, I have a feeling that child has more money than God.”

Mr. Carson found both men and asked that they help hand out champagne. Once all guests had their glasses in hand, Thomas and Price took their own and joined the other staff at the back of the hall.

The room grew quiet, and everyone faced the Christmas tree as the Crawley family lined up in front of it. Everyone was shoulder to shoulder, and Price made sure his was pressed firmly against Thomas’s. Lord Grantham gave a short speech and a toast of thanks to the gathered crowd for a wonderful year. Price raised his glass and echoed “cheers” with the rest of the room, and found that the bubbles accompanied some actual pleasant feelings bubbling inside of him.

Lady Mary lead the crowd in singing “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing.” Price opened his mouth, but held his breath when Thomas began singing. Everyone’s voices swelled together, with Thomas’s taking the lead in Price’s ear. Pressed in tight, the music around him, he thought back to the late summer night when the staff attended the concert together, the night before his father died. He remembered wondering that evening, as his leg touched Thomas’s, whether Thomas shared any of the same feelings for him. Now only months later, Price was fully aware exactly how deep Thomas’s feelings ran for him. He wanted to lay his head on Thomas’s shoulder, or wrap his fingers around Thomas’s just like all the couples were doing around them. Thomas looked down at him, still singing, and rubbed his index finger against Price’s. I’ll take it, Price thought, rubbing Thomas’s finger in return.

“Didn’t feel like singing?” Thomas asked as the crowd began milling around again.

“Was too busy listening to your voice.”

Thomas stuck out his lips and looked away. “I’m so rusty.”

“Sounded perfect to me,” Price said softly.

By the time the last guest left, it was too late for the staff to finish cleaning up. “We’ll all pitch in before church tomorrow,” Mr. Carson told the men.

“That’s fine as long as I can sleep now,” Thomas said with heavy eyelids.

“No,” Price whispered, “I wanted to exchange gifts. And you were gonna stay with me until I fell asleep, remember?”

“Yes, I remember. I’ll meet you in your room.”

Price waited for Thomas on his bed, all washed up and in his pajamas, his gift for Thomas in his lap. He tapped the box and hummed until his doorknob finally turned.

Thomas was still fully dressed with the exception of his jacket. He sat next to Price and kicked off his shoes.

“Who goes first?” Price asked.

Thomas handed his gift to Price. “You do.”

Price accepted the small box from Thomas and unwrapped the paper carefully. He felt Thomas’s expectant eyes on him and hesitated to open the cover.

“What are you waiting for?”

“I get nervous when I open gifts. It’s a quirk of mine.”

“You’re one giant quirk. Open it.”

Price opened the box. A gold herringbone necklace looked back at him.

Thomas lifted the chain from the box and opened the clasp, holding the necklace out to Price. “I’d put a ring on your finger if we lived in a different world, David. I can at least give you this to wear under your shirt every day. You and I will know it’s there, and that’s enough for me. Will you wear it?”

Price stared at the chain hanging between Thomas’s hands. He looked up from it to meet Thomas’s eyes, but couldn’t see him through tears.

“Does that mean you will?”

Price leaned forward so that Thomas could put the chain around his neck. He ran his finger over it. “I’m never taking it off.”

“I wasn’t going to let you. So you like it?”

“Oh, I love it,” Price said, touching it again. “And I love you.”

“Shall I open mine now?”

Price handed Thomas the box from his lap. “I don’t know, maybe throw it in the rubbish instead. I can’t top your gift.”

“I’ll open it first before I throw it away,” Thomas said. He ripped the paper but opened the box less hastily. He looked up from the contents to Price. “This is too generous,” he said soberly.

“No, I made it, it was just the cost for parts and some engraving.”

Thomas lifted his gift, a watch with a square face and wide, black leather band. There was detailed engraving in the metal and tooling on the leather, and a sapphire set in place of the number twelve. “I haven’t seen you make anything like this.”

“Because I wasn’t making those other watches for you. Turn it over and open the back.”

Thomas turned the watch over and looked at the back of it.

“No, open it.”

Thomas opened the back, and it opened like a locket. Both of their initials were engraved inside, along with a heart and the year.

“I know it’s not practical to wear this when you’re working here, but you won’t work here forever, and I hope when that day comes you’ll wear this every day and think of me.”

Thomas’s eyes filled with tears as Price’s had, but his were accompanied by sobs. Price took Thomas’s wrist and kissed it, then put the watch on him.

Thomas held Price’s cheek. “I love you so much,” he whispered.

“You’re the sweetest man I’ve ever met,” Price said, putting his hand over Thomas’s.

Thomas sniffled and wiped his cheek on his shoulder. “And now you should open the box from your father.”

“Haven’t enough tears been shed in here tonight?”

Thomas ignored Price and retrieved the box from the dresser. “Would you prefer I open it?”

“No, I’ll be a big boy,” Price said, taking the box. He cracked his knuckles and stretched, then opened the box.

He put out his hand and turned the box over, letting the three rings fall into his palm. They clinked against each other as he caught them. He put his mother’s engagement ring on his pinky, a gold and pearl ring with small diamond accents, and then her simple wedding band on top of it. He turned his hand over, back and forth, admiring the set he hadn’t seen since the day his mother passed. He tried his father’s ring on his ring finger, then his middle finger, index finger, and thumb. It fit none of them.

“I guess he was bigger than I realized. Or I’m smaller than I think,” Price said, chuckling at himself.

Thomas held Price’s hand and looked at his mother’s rings. “They’re beautiful.”

“Mmm,” Price agreed. He slipped his father’s ring on Thomas’s ring finger, and it fit.

Thomas linked his fingers with Price’s. “What would your parents think of us playing with their rings like this?”

“I’d like to think both of them would be happy that I’m so in love.”

Thomas squeezed Price’s hand. “I like that thought.”

Price looked down at Thomas’s hand. “My father said they’re mine, and to do with them what I please. So, I want you to keep it.”

“I couldn’t, David.”

“You can and will.” Price took his mother’s wedding band from his finger, unclasped his necklace, slipped the ring onto it, and placed it back around his neck. “Do you mind if I wear it like this?”

“No. It looks even better on you now.”

“Oh, do I look good?” Price asked. He jumped up and went to his mirror. “Ooh, I do.”

Thomas joined Price and hugged him from behind. Price reached back for Thomas’s cheek and turned his face, bringing their lips together. “You look very good,” Thomas said, nibbling Price’s bottom lip.

“You don’t really have to sit vigil while I fall asleep. I think I’ll pass right out at this point, anyhow.”

“But I want to.”

“Alright. I won’t argue.”

Price cleaned up the wrapping paper and boxes strewn on his bed and then crawled beneath the covers. Thomas turned off Price’s lights and sat on the edge of the bed. He ran his fingers through Price’s hair slowly, repeatedly, soothingly. Price closed his eyes sighed.

“Would you sing to me?” Price asked, his voice already distant and on the edge of sleep. Price expected Thomas to resist. Instead, Thomas leaned in closer to Price’s ear and sang “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen,” slowly and quietly like a lullaby. Price tried to keep his eyes open, and stay awake long enough to hear Thomas finish the song, but he drifted to sleep beneath Thomas’s fingers, enveloped by his voice.
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Footman in Training