Happy Valentine's day! If you're a sad lonely person like me, chances are you'll want to spend the day reading fanfic and eating chocolate like I probably will. So here's a Valentine's day fic to go with that chocolate! And if you aren't a lonely person and you just like fanfic, congratulations on being able to balance fictional characters and real life. Anyway, whoever you are, enjoy, and please review!

1913

Footfalls approached on the grass, a light spring breeze blowing around. Mary looked up from her book, if somewhat reluctantly, to see who was approaching

It was Matthew. Of course. He had been seeking her out more and more, and Mary was finding that she couldn't be mad at him. Maybe he was taking everything that should be hers, but despite that, he was very friendly.

She was still frustrated that everyone had ended up on Matthew's side, when as her family, they should support her, but it wasn't hard to see why. Mary had admitted to being cold and heartless, while Matthew was quite the opposite; warm, friendly, perhaps socially awkward but still a very sweet person nonetheless.

"Mary! Hello, how nice to see you," he said awkwardly.

Mary put down her book and allowed a smile for him, warmer than usual. "Are you looking for Papa?"

"Well yes, but I was told he was already down in the village. I decided to walk down there. It's a nice day I and I could stand to do something besides sitting in my study all day," Matthew said cheerfully.

"You know what we all think about your work. And even if it was what our kind of people did, you work too much."

He sat next to her on the bench. "Better to be hardworking than lazy, don't you think?"

"If that was an insult, I'll have you know I don't accept insults from middle class solicitors," Mary said, eyeing him as he leaned back. "If you want to find Papa perhaps you actually walk down to the village..."

Matthew nodded. "I'll do that in a minute. But I wanted to give you something."

"Give me something?" Mary repeated, voice and eyebrows raising simultaneously. "I can't see what on earth you'd want..."

"Well, it's one of Mr. Molesley's... old Mr. Molesley's roses. He's competing in the flower show, you know, and he is hoping to win best bloom, but Molesley brought some to the house and I wanted to show you because they're actually very pretty."

Mary noticed that he was holding out a rose in front of her. She took it, still slightly surprised, and nodded. "Well, thank you. It is rather pretty."

"Well, I ought to be off, goodbye Mary," he said, tipping his hat and quickly walking away from her.

She fingered the rose and genuinely smiled behind him.

1916

Sybil picked up her bag and stepped out in front of the building, taking one last glance back at the exercising soldiers before casting her eyes to the road to search for Branson. She had been thinking about his confession constantly, ever since she had arrived to train. It both terrified and thrilled her.

She sucked in a breath as the car pulled up the drive and Branson stepped out. "I'll take your bags, milady," he said formally, as if they barely had ever spoken.

"Branson... Tom..."

Branson looked up to meet her eyes. "I hope your training has gone well. I can testify to your family missing you."

She nodded, biting her lip. "Thank you, yes it's opened up my mind to many things. And I certainly hope my family has missed me."

"They...they um, wished for me to give this to you. A little bit of a gift from them," Tom said, holding out a red rose. "I think they hoped this would make you m ore eager to come home. Downton looks quite...um, lovely right now," he said awkwardly, shifting from one foot to another.

Sybil smiled at him, trying to ease his nervousness. Of course he was scared to talk to her, how could he not be? He had risked everything and she had responded with very little. Of course he didn't want to interact with her.

And yet there was a hope in eyes, and she had to duck her head, attempting not to acknowledge it, because it would only confuse her more.

She climbed into the back of the car, fingering the rose, moving it between her fingers, watching the back of Branson's head. His shoulders were slumped, his posture looking defeated. She looked down at the rose, and almost had to laugh aloud. If her family had wanted to give her a rose, they would not have told Branson to give it to her.

"Branson?" Her voice had a question to it, but was firm.

"Yes, milady?"

Sybil twirled the rose once again. "My family didn't really want you to give me this, did they?" Upon seeing his posture straighten, she added, "You can tell me, I promise I won't tell anyone. And I don't break promises."

She could hear the hesitation in his voice. "It... it was my idea, milady."

"Well, thank you very much," Sybil said, attempting to reassure him. "I think it was a very good idea."

He relaxed and Sybil looked at the rose once again and smiled.

1919

The market was very different from any place Sybil had ever been shopping, but she loved it. Compared to the shops in Ripon, it was crowded and rather crazy, but Sybil had always been game for things both different and slightly crazy. She looked at Tom, who didn't seem daunted at the huge market.

"So this is how you went shopping when you were a child? How could your mother keep track of all of you?" Sybil stepped over a puddle on the ground, almost tripping. Tom grabbed her elbow and she had to giggle a little bit.

"She honestly didn't. My brothers and I ran wild," Tom replied, looking around at the market. "It hasn't changed much. We used to go around and steal treats from the stalls. Ma absolutely hated it, and we always got in a lot of trouble. Eventually we gave up on it."

Sybil laughed airily. "Don't ever tell my father that, or he'll probably murder you since a thief married his daughter."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Tom assured her.

"That would be more of a nightmare," Sybil retorted, so very glad that she could do this with him. Her husband. They had been married for two weeks and she had never been happier. When they finally conceded that groceries were a necessity, Tom decided to take her to the market in Dublin.

She still was in awe of the happenings in the marketplace. She hardly noticed Tom gently guiding her over to a stand selling flowers.

"Why exactly do we need flowers?" Sybil asked as she noticed where they were standing. Certainly, the flowers were beautiful, but there were many more practical things that they could spend the little money that they had on.

Tom pulled Sybil closer, perhaps a little bit closer than what was entirely proper, and put his arm around her. "I can't provide you with much, but may I bequeath unto you a rose that illustrates my love towards you?"

"Are you one for such romantic gestures now?" Sybil whispered, low enough so that only Tom could hear. She put her hand in his and attempted to suppress a smile as he bought the rose.

"Only for my beautiful rose herself," Tom replied, his voice also low.

He kneeled down, in the middle of the dirty Dublin street, and handed the rose to her, making her blush mightily. "You needn't go to such strides to please me."

"I will do anything to please you. I will do more than is necessary," Tom said with conviction. "And these clothes needed washing anyway."

Sybil grinned and took the rose. In her other hand she found his hand, and they strolled along the Dublin street with wide smiles.

1920

"Mary? Would you like to come down to Crawley House for luncheon today?"

Mary could recognize that voice anywhere, but she still turned around to look at him. Matthew, of course, was standing there, blue eyes wide and pleading. It was difficult to say no to those eyes.

It wasn't as if she would have said no anyway.

And that afternoon, she found herself knocking on the door of her fiancé's house, a barely suppressed smile lighting her features. Molesley answered it, leading her into the drawing room of Crawley House. It was empty.

"Mr. Crawley will be through in a moment," Molesley said formally.

Mary sat down in a chair, looking around the small, but pleasant room. In a way, she wished that she had seen what it had seen, the more domestic parts of Matthew that made her heart flutter when she thought about them.

The wedding couldn't come soon enough.

The door squeaked open and Mary's eyes lit up when she saw Matthew enter. His own eyes shone similarly.

"Are we having luncheon, then?" Mary asked coyly. "Your mother isn't here."

"She's at the hospital, like usual," Matthew said, with a slight roll of his eyes. "It"/ just you and I today. Which is good, because I have something I'd like to give you."

Curious, Mary followed Matthew into the dining room, where two bowls of soup sat steaming. He sat down, and she followed his lead. "Is Molesley not going to serve us?" Mary asked.

"I'm not very fastidious about doing things properly. There are sandwiches on the tray there. It isn't grand fare but hopefully what I'm about to give to you will make up for it," he said, reaching under the table for something.

"Goodness, you like to make suspense," Mary remarked.

Matthew grinned, taking her hand in his. "Given that I'm not very good at doing things properly, and I didn't have a ring when I proposed to you, I figured now was as good a time as any to give you a proper ring."

"I'm tempted to make you kneel again," Mary said playfully, "but I won't."

Matthew opened the box to reveal a ring much simpler than the ones she had seen before, much simpler than the kind she had expected to wear, but much more beautiful than any of those. He slipped it onto her finger.

"And Molesley also insisted I give a rose to you, and who am I to protest against Molesley," Matthew said, somewhat jokingly. But Mary found that in her other hand was a rose, and she smiled softly.

"I suppose you're expecting a kiss after all this," she remarked.

"It would be nice."

The chairs were too far away. She sat herself in his lap and took his face in her hands. "Good thing I desire it too."

1921

"I still think Valentine's day is rather stupid," Mary said, sipping her tea calmly as she and Edith and Sybil sat in the library. "Why specify one day to show how much you love someone when you can show them every day?"

Sybil nodded. "I do agree, actually. The thought is sweet, but it shouldn't be needed."

"Is this because Matthew and Tom forgot that today was Valentine's day?" Edith asked. In her hand was a letter from Michael Gregson, and it was apparently very sweet of something of the like because she had blushed very hard when she first read it, and was still blushing on occasion.

"I don't think they forgot they just... didn't know about it," Mary said. "It isn't a major holiday."

"Well, I might just happen to know that Matthew and Tom are going around the estate today and they should be back anytime now. Maybe you should go meet them on the grounds," Robert said, entering the library.

Mary and Sybil shared a glance, and both hurried out the door, leaving behind a quiet and somewhat disappointed Edith.

Both Mary and Sybil sat down on a bench out on the grounds, looking around for any sign of their husbands. "Look at us, like little besotted schoolgirls," Mary said, with a roll of her eyes.

"When it comes to our husbands, I think we will always be besotted schoolgirls," Sybil replied. "Is that them?"

Mary looked out, and sure enough, two men were approaching them, both with hands behind their backs. Mary and Sybil stood up and walked towards them.

"How was your tour of the estate?" Sybil asked, as Tom and Matthew came close to them.

Tom smiled at her. "It was very nice. The weather is very good for February," he said, giving a sideways glance to Matthew.

"I can't remember a February day this nice," Matthew said. "Especially since it's the middle of February. What day, precisely?"

Mary suppressed a laugh. Matthew was sweet, but he could be rather obvious. "It's the fourteenth. Which also happens to be..."

"Valentine's day, I know. Good thing Tom and I managed to procure bouquets of roses for our wives," Matthew said, and on cue, both of them took their hands from behind their backs and handed a bouquets of flowers to their wives.

Both Mary and Sybil took the flowers and went straight into the arms of their husbands.