Chapter Text
"Love you."
"Not over the telephone, Richard."
He's exhausted and he should find some strength to finish this lovely talk, sadly. It's getting too late.
"Couldn't resist." Absolutely not ashamed, his voice is smug as ever.
"I'm barely resisting myself. The feeling is mutual."
"Sounds appropriate to me," he yawns.
"Seems like we need to hang up. Get some sleep now, we'll talk next week." He doesn't like to say it but it's easier for him than it was four years ago because there will be more of it.
"Actually…"
"Actually?"
"I'll be busy for a while."
"And?"
" Really busy."
"And what's that supposed to mean."
He hears a sigh and some ruffling on the other end. Something unpleasant then.
"Wilson's having a big vacation. I'll be instead of him for… a lot."
"I see," he doesn't, "so no telephone next week?"
"Well- a few weeks. Maybe a month, to be realistic."
"Alright." Not a big loss, a job is a job. "We'll manage, just more letters."
"You're forgetting something."
The worst phrase that can be said, really.
“Meaning?”
“Thoma-”
“Oh.” How could he forget about their planned evening? The evening that’s supposed to take place in - let him check the calendar - yeah, seventeen days. Will be longer now.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Thomas rubs his eyes. Is it fine?
“I miss you and I’m giving you my promise that we’ll meet as soon as we can and it'll be worth it.”
“Of course, it will.”
***
“It makes weird noises!”
“I know, it’s louder and louder every time.”
Not being able to continue working in these circumstances Thomas decides to go and see what all that fuss is about. Few members of staff are standing around the stairs discussing something: a rat? A hole in the floor? A gold bar?
“I guess the dinner will be cooked and served itself,” he says after coughing a little to get everyone’s attention. “What distracts all of you from working?”
“Our stairs is too old, we have to change it!” Daisy shouts from the other end of the crowd.
“It creaks really bad, not too far from falling down,” Andy explains.”Especially the lowest steps.”
“So that is the reason you’re making the family starve upstairs?” Thomas asks and stands at the first step. He walks on one spot for a while to show that there is no danger. “It looks absolutely safe for me. Now, please, hurry up!”
“But why can’t we use the second stairs?”
“We never use it,” Thomas replies. “It leads to another end of the building, food will be as good as an ice cube by the time it arrives on the dinner table.”
“Then let it be that way,” Mrs Hughes interrupts. “I won’t put any of the workers in a danger like this, Mr Barrow. I’m sure His Lordship will understand.”
“And I won’t let this imaginary nonsense spoil the dinner with Marquess and Marchioness of Hexham, and-”
“It’s out of the question, Mr Barrow,” Mrs Hughes hisses. “I know, I know. You, as a butler, only want to make everything properly, but don’t forget about our responsibility to keep our staff safe,” she whispers when others go.
Thomas feels furious because it seems that he’ll never get authority and respect in this house: his decisions always have to be discussed even after more than five years on this position. Five long and not the best years, he must admit. It was nice at the beginning, but soon enough he realised that it's no different from what he was doing before. There are more responsibility, stress, he has less free time.
The only thing that makes him feel like a human is his partner, who fulfils every week with letters and calls, and sometimes even sweet days that they can spend together.
He helps Thomas to stay sane.
Maybe, one day he'll say that he leaves, so they'll run away somewhere. He would be sorry to say goodbye to people here, but not to the job - the job that used to be his dream(out of possible ones), but the closer he was to it, the worse he assumed it was.
But right now he only needs the dinner to be managed, so he quickly forgets all these thoughts.
He sighs. “Right. Just get back to work.”
Lady Mary is not happy about the dinner’s delay (it’s not spoken, but you can tell), even after the reason was revealed. Lord Grantham seems to understand, so he only says that this problem will be solved. Although, he catches the butler at the end of the evening and Thomas knows why.
“Barrow, I need a minute with you,” he says and checks if the room is empty. “Is it that bad? I’m not telling you to sacrifice people’s safety, but we can’t afford to deal with every little domestic problem if you understand me.”
“It’s hard to say, m’lord. I don’t think it’s necessary to call a repairman.”
“We should just tell everyone that we are in the process of finding one and it takes time. Perhaps, they’ll see that there is no danger and forget about it.”
“Robert?” Lady Grantham calls.
“I’m coming!” he answers. “Good night, Barrow.”
“M’lord.”
At least His Lordship is on his side. This is one of the things that usual workers will never understand: it’s hard to always have control over everything and not everything can be fixed, because it takes time and money, so the choice has to be made: it’s necessary to choose which thing may be helped and which may not. People will complain but it’s impossible to make everyone satisfied.
He’s sitting in his pantry counting the last bills. There is not a lot of work left to be done today, so, fortunately, he is going to be in his bed soon.
“Mr Barrow?” someone asks from behind the door. He almost thinks it’s Daisy, but it’s a questionable tone of Mrs Molesley’s voice.
“Come in.”
She walks into the room slowly, her eyes are almost closed: she’s probably tired and ready to doze off just like him.
“Just wanted to make sure you’re not angry with all of us,” she says gently.
“Why would I be?” he asks sarcastically and regrets it. He doesn’t like to be harsh with her, she’s not an enemy.
“Why are you so offended by this situation?” she says ignoring his words. “You can’t blame them for being careful.”
“Mrs Molesley, you don’t know everything, alright?” he ignores her question, too. “It’s better not to spread it, but, let’s say, we’re not really in a state to pay for this and that.”
The wave of understanding on her face is clear, but she doesn’t say it aloud. Instead, she continues:
“It’s better to save on food or something. Don’t you think that it’s more important not to let people break their bones while-”
“Break their bones?” he asks angrily. “You seriously think that it’s that dangerous? Come with me.”
He stands up and walks out of the pantry. “Our floors creak, too, are you afraid of it breaking apart? Or our squeaky doors?”. He comes to the stairs and stands on the first step. He walks his legs again in silence trying to hear any noises.
“Mr Barrow, I didn’t mean to say you’re wrong-” she says as she hurries to come to the stairs, too.
“I know, but I don’t quite see the danger you all are talking about,” he interrupts. He doesn’t hear anything threatening, so he stands on the next step and it creaks. “Is that it? Did this barely noticeable sound make people scared?” He stomps his foot once. “Let’s try to find out if there is a danger.”
“I see it now, it’s okay, just stop it!” she pleads loudly. “Everyone’s in their beds, you’ll wake them up.”
“So?” he says and stomps his foot again. “I think I finally can prove the safety of this stairs to everyone,” stomps again, “and you will never question my decisions,” again, “because now you see tha-”
“Oh, God!” Mrs Molesley shouts.
In mere seconds he feels the step parting right under him and his left foot slips into the crack. The next moment he finds himself face down on the floor, legs uncomfortably rest on the few steps of the stairs. There is a silence for a few seconds, to understand what has just happened.
“Are you alright?” she asks with a shaking voice. He nods twice and begins to lift himself on his elbows. Mrs Molesley quickly takes him by his forearm and he slowly stands upright, but then he feels a sharp pain somewhere down his body.
“Bloody hell,” he hisses.
“What? What is it?”
“It’s my foot, or,” he mutters, “or my ankle, Christ.”
“Can you step on it?”
“I think so, umm. Yeah, but it hurts, I shouldn’t do that.”
“Alright, lean on me.”
It takes them forever to get back to his pantry, so he has time to overthink his fail. Apparently, he was wrong with his claims.
Finally, he lands on the chair that is closest to the door and puts his left foot on his right knee, quickly puts off his shoe and sock and starts to touch the damaged limb. There are actually a few scratches and slightly bleeding wounds, but the pain he is feeling is different. The heel is alright, the toes are all working normally, but it’s uncomfortable to move his foot and to feel any pressure in the middle of it.
“Must be an ankle sprain,” he admits. “Or a little crack in my bone. Jesus.”
“That’s not good. We should call Dr Clarkson.”
“No need, it’s not serious. I’m sure I’ll be able to walk normally tomorrow.”
“It might be worse tomorrow.”
“Christ, it won’t be worse. Just bring me some bandages and water, please.”
Mrs Molesley obeys silently and then sits next to him, waiting to help after he finishes. Despite that, he refuses when she offers to help him get to his room.
“I’ll manage. But I have to ask you to place the chair upstairs with a note so no one will get in that trap. Please.”
“Okay. But tell me if you need anything.”
“Yeah.”
She walks out of the room and he waits until he doesn’t hear her footsteps. The truth is, he should’ve probably accepted her help because he knows it’s not right to step on this foot. He stands up and leans on the wall to balance and not to use his wounded limb. When he’s out of the pantry and sees such a long corridor to pass, he sighs and understands that it will take him an eternity to get to his room. So he decides to make it faster by hopping on his right leg with little pauses to have a rest. It looks a bit more graceful on the stairs ( finally, he got to the stairs), but his task becomes more difficult now: he needs to get to his room ( which is right in the other end of this corridor, thanks for that) without waking people behind these doors. If he makes just a little noise, someone might get up and see him ridiculously hopping around here. He survived a lot of things, but he’s not sure if he’s able to survive this one, too.
Fortunately, he successfully makes it to his room and closes the door behind him, breathless. It's been too long since he's done any physical activity. Perhaps, he should do more...
He manages to get out of his clothes and put on his pyjamas. His bed feels like heaven, but both his legs hurt: he feels his tired muscles of the right leg and also he feels dull pain in his left one.
But he really just needs some rest.
***
Okay, he needs more than a little rest.
He finally understands it after the whole day of pretending that he was fine. He spent most of the time in his pantry, so he had his leg on the chair that was standing by his desk. He hopped on his leg to breakfast earlier than everyone, so no one saw him and he had time to steal some ice (it’d helped him to ease the pain but it melted too soon). Also, he apologised during breakfast and admitted that he wasn’t right. It made everyone surprised, but he tried not to see their satisfied faces. He doesn’t want to embarrass himself again somehow, so he stays in his pantry and doesn’t have dinner.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Actually, yes.” He doesn’t say anything else, thinking about how to put it right. He looks her in the eyes after a moment of complete silence.
“It still hurts, doesn’t it?” Mrs Molesley asks first.
“Yeah,” a sigh.
“And you want me to ask Mrs Hughes to tell Mr Carson.”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll call Dr Clarkson then.
“No need, he’ll come here tomorrow’s morning anyway. Miss Caroline got cold, so he'll check on her.”
“Right. I’ll fetch Andy to help you. You should go to bed now when you have the opportunity and the need.”
“I’ll be alright, but… thanks.”
“By the way, do you remember about Thursday?”
“Thursday?”
“Mr Molesley and I planned a little day off in London on Thursday. But I do understand that you may need all of the workers here-”
“No, it’s alright.” How could he forget about his friend’s day off? “I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable because of my own mistake. I’ll be happy if you spend some good time there.”
“Well, if that’s not a problem…” She smiles and starts going out of the room, but he stops her.
“And Her Ladyship doesn’t mind?”
“She doesn’t.”
“Alright then. And, Mrs Molesley?”
“Yes?”
“Do I look really silly now? I mean,” he says looking at the floor, “do people talk about my incompetence or dumbness?”
She only smiles and relaxes her shoulders.
“You’re being too harsh with yourself. We all prefer to forgive people’s mistakes. Besides, it was quite nice of you to tell them that you were wrong. It’s a brave move. Good night.”
Feeling slightly better, Thomas gets upstairs, to his room, not without Andy’s strong and helping arms. He tells the footman a few details about tomorrow’s plans, so they wouldn’t need to ask him all the time.
He quickly changes to his pyjama after Andy’s leaving. There is no point in changing or fixing the bandages because Dr Clarkson will put them off tomorrow anyway. He decides to put something supporting under his foot instead. His suitcase is too dirty to put in bed, his box with soaps and gels is too uncomfortable, so the only option is to use his only pillow and sleep without it under his head. He’s heard it helps the spine or something, but, well , it’s extremely weird. Perhaps, he’ll get used to it, but not tonight.
***
He wakes up in complete darkness because of the shutting door, hearing someone walking around and sitting on the chair.
He lets himself think about what does it remind him of, but only for a second because he’ll never want to remember that time deliberately. Dark room, Mrs Molesley by his bed, wet traces on his cheeks, pain in his wrists. The coldness, despite the tones of pillows and blankets.
But no, it’s different now.
It’s quite nice now: a thick pillow under his head (he probably returned it there while he was asleep), no noises of the morning routine, warm (but not too warm) and fresh blanket. Of course, the pain is still there, but it’s okay if he’s not concentrating on it. Finally, he decides to say something.
“Mrs Molesley, is Dr Clarkson already here?”
“No, not yet,” the man answers. Thomas instantly opens his eyes as he doesn’t recognise this low and deep whispering voice. He’s been expecting Mrs Molesley, so his heart has even skipped a beat. He tries to sit up but finds his foot still resting on the pillow, so it’s harder than he thought. The man puts his hand on Thomas’ chest and the other one under his back, and it helps him to sit upright more or less.
“It’s just me, don’t worry,” the man says a bit louder, and his voice becomes more recognisable. But it can’t be him, can it?
“Richard?”
“Yeah.”
Thomas blinks a few times to see better; he smells his aftershave, sees his broad shoulders and exactly the same hairstyle: it’s him, it really is him. He must’ve put the second pillow under his head while he was asleep. He leans to him to hold him closer with his head on Richard’s chest and his arms around his torso. It feels good, even if it’s a strange half-sitting position and he can’t see his face clearly.
“What are you doing here?”
“Holding you I think.” A soft laugh, a kiss on Thomas' neck. It makes him shiver and feel warmth in his stomach and face, and he almost gets too distracted to ask.
“But you told me you couldn’t even manage a phone call for weeks.” Thomas leans back, not without an effort, and furrows his brows a little. He clearly remembers the moment he became upset because of their phone talk. Thomas tried his best not to feel abandoned, but he had his fears somewhere in the back of his mind. So the fact that he was sitting right there right now was ...unexpected. Nice, of course, but still concerning.
“Just enjoy, Thomas,” he says after glancing away trickly when all of a sudden someone’s opening the door, so they instantly jump off of each other.
“Doctor’s here,” Mrs Molesley says and steps to the side to let Dr Clarkson come in.
***
“It’s a little bit swollen, but not purple even after a day of using it fully, so it won’t take you too long to recover. However, I strongly recommend you to stay in bed for a week, at least. Just follow my instructions and I’ll check on you.” He takes scissors, cuts the end of the bandage off and ties it securely. “The hospital is not busy at this time of year, I can provide you with a nurse.”
“No need.” Everyone looks in Richard’s direction. Oh, this daft man. “I don’t have anything to do, I’ll help.” No way that happens.
“No, the nurse will be gre-” Thomas begins, but Mrs Molesley interrupts him with loud and confident “That’s settled, then.” He’s helpless when the doctor leaves; stares at Richard and finally catches his eyes.
“Could you, please, bring me a glass of water?”
The purpose of staying with Mrs Molesley alone is clear, but no one decides to protest. When he leaves, the woman looks at him, waiting for an expected question.
“Did you call him?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I knew you wouldn’t tell him about it, but it wouldn’t have done any good to you.”
“Mrs Molesley, he’s a busy man, he can’t just sacrifice everything every time I have a little scratch.”
“I only told him that you were injured. The decision to come here was his.”
“He was almost forced to do it.”
She stands up from the chair and goes to the door. “I know you’re mad at us, but he’s here because he genuinely wants to, so there won’t be any use in making him regret or feel ashamed.” And then she leaves.
Thomas feels lost. She is right, but he has to tell Richard that he can go back if there is a real need somehow. Besides, he doesn’t want to use the man that way: he’s his partner, not his nurse. He has a tiring job and meeting Thomas has to be joyful and light. What if Richard would just be sick of him by the end of the recovery?
After a few minutes Richard enters and sits on the chair in front of him, then puts the glass on the bedside table. He doesn’t even pretend that he didn’t understand. “I’m glad she informed me.” And then he reaches and strokes Thomas’ shoulder, saying: “but you’re not glad.”
Thomas quickly grabs his hand and looks him in the eyes.
“I’m incredibly happy to see you,” he smiles and tries to show him his sincerity, “I just don’t want to be a burden during your hard times.”
“You’d do it to me if I were you.”
“You’re ri-”, Thomas says but he is interrupted by his growling stomach, “you’re right.”
“Oh, I'll bring you your breakfast."
“Is it ready?” Did someone cook him his breakfast before everyone's breakfast or, maybe, they are eating now and Richard has to be there instead of starving here. Or, maybe, it was hours ago. "Wait, what's time is it?"
"Quarter past nine."
"Blimey, I needed a good nap that much, didn't I."
"And now you have every right."
"Feels good."
"Yeah,” Richard exhales and squeezes his ungloved hand, stroking the inside of it. The glove is not necessary for him now, when it’s only Richard around. And he likes that even this part of him receives care, even if it used to stress him out.
"And you're here," Thomas murmurs and strokes his palm back, massaging every finger.
"Oh, right."
"Feels good, too."
"I know."
"I want to wake up like that every day together." At that, something changes in Richard. His grip tightens, the vein on his neck pulses a bit, eyes begin to run from side to side. But he relaxes the next moment, touching Thomas' arm.
"Same here. I'll bring you your food so it won't freeze there waiting, okay?" he says, letting go of him and stands up. He fixes the blanket, tucking it under the pillow at Thomas’s legs. He puts a palm on his cheek and keeps it there for a moment. They both smile warmly, finally understanding that they will be in one house for a week.
“Okay,” Thomas mumbles. Richard leans to him and gives a peck on his lips, which turns to be a proper long "I missed you" kiss, then leaves.
And that's it Thomas thinks. He decides not to pay attention to any concerning details right now, because they are so small and he, probably, made them all up himself. And they are okay, they really are okay, because Richard is here and he is going to bloody nurse him for an entire week in his room. Will they sleep together? It seems strange, considering his condition, but they can't lose their chances, can they?
Funny, how his mood has changed. He was incredibly uncomfortable because of having Richard here instead of his work, but now he is all flattered, silly grinning and even, probably, blushing, lying there like a warm and shining ball of happiness. Slightly injured ball, but still.
"Sorry for making you wait. It needed a little warming up," Richard says as he enters the room. He puts the tray on Thomas' laps and sits back on his chair. "Few boiled eggs, toasts, butter, jam and tea."
"Thank you," he begins to cut the eggs. "So tell me, how have you been doing? Anything interesting?"
"I've been well more or less. Nothing worth telling really happened, but I was well, yeah."
"Oh, I thought you'd be totally exhausted?"
"Uh, it's easier when we don't need to travel through the whole country."
"Try to have a rest here despite everything."
"Of course, I enjoy every minute with you, after all." He smiles and this smile is warmer than the sun. This man is full of the feeling of relaxation and adoration and it's unbelievably contagious. "And what about you? Have you been okay?"
"Well, if we exclude this accident..."
"Yeah, I was told about it."
"...then I've been alright. It was unusual not to hear from you but we survived as you see. And I had a pint with Chris a few days ago, he's alright."
"Oh, I keep forgetting to send him those pomades that he wanted." He frowns but shakes his head and smiles again. "How are things here?"
"Ah, as always."
Richard makes a very thinking facial expression and asks: "fucked up, you mean?" Mutual understanding is definitely one of the most important things in relationships.
"And even more. It seems to be okay until you turn around and they start to do as they want because you're not the old butler and they're not scared enough of you."
"Is it really that bad?"
"I have no idea, Richard. They are people that I've spent the biggest part of my life with and I kind of like them, but sometimes they are so annoying. And I might be just complaining as always because we all communicate quite well, but they will never see me as their boss."
"Do you need it that much?"
"Oh?"
"Do you need to be a perfect butler? I thought you just wanted to have a job and to have your old mates?"
"Right, but…"
"But?"
"I'm just tired. And it doesn't matter right now." The answer is actually no, he's never genuinely wanted to be a butler. He doesn't like to think about it now, but he'd leave if he could.
"It matters if it concerns you."
"And when did you become a psychologist?"
"It's my second job, haven't I told you?"
"I don't know, but your wallet certainly doesn't look like you have two jobs." He gets a light punch from Richard and they both laugh. "What have you been doing since your breakfast?"
"I’d made a few phone calls and then I've been sitting here. Wanted to be here when you wake up."
"That's very nice of you. Did you bring anything?"
"My cards, book with crosswords and stuff," he steals a little piece of Thomas' toast with jam, "but I'd like to do it together. Anyway, I need to tell you that I'll have to visit my mother the day after tomorrow if that's alright."
"You don't need my permission to meet your family."
"I just wanted you to know and be ready."
"Ready for what?"
"Well, ask Mrs Molesley to help instead of me." Ah, so Thomas is a stupid child, apparently.
"I can handle one evening," he almost hisses through his teeth.
"But you can't walk yourself." Richard already understands his mistake and tries to talk calmly.
"I'm a grown man, Richard, I'll bloody manage not to hurt myself more than that." He raises his voice just a little, but it still sounds too harsh for their first hour together after a long time. "Sorry."
Richard inhales and exhales slowly. "It's alright. Let's change the subject."
"Yeah."
They both look and feel guilty for ruining the mood, even though nothing serious had happened. Their little fights (if you can call it like that) are rare and never too hurting. They don't see each other often enough to have complaints, they are mostly just happy to spend a day together. But, of course, after four years of having a relationship, they've become quite comfortable in each other's company, so they let themselves show not only their prettiest parts. They've also learnt to accept these parts and to behave rightly in such situations. People say that love is not enough to keep a relationship, but it is enough in their case: they love each other, so they want to do everything they can. It's not like they are really experienced, but they are adults who had at least a few relationships, so they know that everyone has flaws and triggers and you have to think twice before breaking up, hoping to find someone "perfect". They've never even thought about it, but it all was obvious in the back of their minds. They fit each other, they care about each other, so nothing else matters really.
"Will you be sleeping with me?" Thomas asks hesitantly. He, probably, should have asked it a bit later, because what if Richard refuses after their little argument?
"Only if you are comfortable with it."
"How can I not be?" He chuckles.
"Your foot has to be steady at night, supported by a pillow. I'll take too much space, I'm afraid."
"You'll only take the space that is supposed to be yours," he says sipping his tea. "Also, it's better to sleep here somehow, than to stay awake thinking of you right behind the next door, don't you think?"
"You may be right at some point, Mr Barrow," Richard grins and accepts the cup with tea from Thomas' hands.
It's funny that it only took them a few times to understand that there's no danger in sleeping in one room at Downton because there is only one hall-boy in the men's side and he's too shy and nice to even suggest that something "wrong" might be going on behind their closed door. Although, it's not a secret for the rest of the staff, because they are not that dumb. Of course, they had never asked and Thomas and Richard had never given them any reasons to think so, but there are always some advantages in open secrets.
But there is one person who doesn't even know Richard (doesn't remember him, at least) and who won't be that nice if he finds out the truth.
And this person is probably already sitting in Thomas' pantry, doing his job.
"Have you seen Mr Carson?" He is afraid to hear any answer.
"No. I figured that we need to decide what to tell him, so I didn’t dare to face him myself while you were asleep." Well, that's a relief.
"Good. I think he'll come here soon, so don't worry."
"It's not like I care what the old man says after all that you've told me-"
"Yes, but don't forget that it was my interpretation of those events."
"I know, love. I met people like him, as well, so that's why I tend to believe you. Despite that, we'll try not to make anyone furious."
"How am I so lucky to have a diplomat by my side?"
They both just sit smiling for a while. Their following discussion doesn't have any surprises, the story that Carson will probably believe: he was on his way to his parents' house in York. He was going to spend the whole week at Downton, waiting for his parents to return from Scotland's trip because he and Mr Barrow kept in touch after 1927. And it's almost an entire truth: he is going to visit his parents, his parents actually were in Scotland (last month, but anyway) and Mr Ellis and Mr Barrow do still really keep in touch. They're not going to lie, they just won't tell what they usually do in private moments at night.