Sybil Crawley does have feelings (lady_sybil) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-10-06 10:03:00 |
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Entry tags: | sybil crawley, tom branson |
Who: Tom Branson and Sybil Crawley
What: Serious Talking about Serious Things.
Where: Baggins Beach
Warnings: Low, though some talk of death in the dreams
Tom was a bit nervous, actually, as he pulled up to Sybil’s home. It wasn’t just that she gave him butterflies a little, or that he wasn’t sure if he’d have to meet her uncle, but also the dreams. He couldn’t shake what he’d seen, and he kept reliving the moment every time he’d tried to sleep from then on. How could someone as perfect and loving as Sybil ever go that way? One thing was for sure, Downton Abbey was an unforgiving place.
But he shook off the bad feelings and reminded himself that this would be a great day.
Though she hadn't admitted it to herself, Sybil was nervous, too. Classes that morning had distracted her enough. When she got home, she'd transferred that nervous energy into picking out clothes. Why had she suggested the beach? She couldn't just bounce around in a bikini in front of him, certainly not on a private beach! She had a few pair of shorts, but what was the proper length in this situation? And even if she could push her mother's voice out of her head, she didn't think shorts were very flattering. Finally, she decided on a bright yellow sundress. By the time she'd dressed and pulled her hair back, Carson was informing her that she had a guest.
Sybil raced down the stairs in an un-ladylike manner and grabbed the sizable picnic basket by the door. She grinned when she saw Tom. "Hello, Branson," she said, her voice playful.
Tom had had to remind himself to not be familiar with Carson, since this Carson had no idea who he was. But when the old man had turned away, he’d had to stifle a laugh. Luckily, Sybil had come to put him out of his misery.
“Lady Sybil,” he teased back, nodding his head politely.
Sybil laughed, taking Tom's arm. "We'll be back in a while," she told Carson as she and Tom headed out the door. "The path is down this way." The beach wasn't directly connected to the house, and the path wasn't short. Sybil had decided this was by design. Her uncle seemed to enjoy the quiet, winding walk down to the beach as much as he liked the beach itself.
"How was work?" Sybil asked, looking up at Tom.
It felt … Well, familiar, walking with Sybil like this. And not because they’d walked arm-in-arm a few times in Ireland, either, but his dreams were really starting to take root in his head. It felt right, in an eerily comfortable way. So Tom was more than content to walk a bit.
“It was good. Not really all that exciting, if you can believe it,” he said, laughing. “But how was school? Everything you wanted it to be?”
"School is starting to pick up and get busy," Sybil said. "I could've used a longer weekend. Four or five days, instead of three." She smiled, mostly joking. That would have probably been even harder to come back from than the three days, though. "I don't think it's too much different yet. More reading. The nagging feeling that there's always more to do. Another assignment just around the corner."
She shook her head and smiled at Tom. "I don't mean to complain! I'm happy I'm in school, and able to stay here. It's just nice to have a break." Specifically, a break with Tom. Spending time with him was another thing she'd gotten used to, and she didn't much care for having to wait so long to see him.
“I miss school, sometimes,” he said, laughing a bit. “I know it makes me sound like a ponce, but it’s true. I was involved in a lot, made a lot of good friends. Wouldn’t change it for the world. And, for the record, I’m glad you get to stay here, too.”
Tom glanced over to flash a grin at her, but he meant it. He was already starting to wondering what their lives might end up being together, how it might compare to the Sbyil and Tom of Downton Abbey and how it might differ.
"Oh, stop it," she said when he called himself a ponce. "That would be good, getting more involved. I guess I've felt so busy I haven't looked for things!" She'd been involved in a gay-straight alliance back in high school. Surely once she got settled in she would find a few groups.
"I'm getting distracted," she admitted, smiling sheepishly at him. All he'd asked was 'How was school?' and off she went. She turned and opened a small gate that led down to her uncle's private beach. "It's this way," she said, holding the gate open for Tom.
“Sorry. My lips are sealed.” Tom just smiled in lieu of calling himself a ponce, following her down to the beach. He glanced around and let out a low whistle. “Pretty nice. I’ve never been to a private beach before.”
Sybil smiled, nodding. "It was just Uncle Frodo for the longest time, but he actually met Aunt Merrill when she was trespassing here," Sybil laughed. It was hard picturing Frodo being angry enough to call the police on a trespasser, but to end up marrying her seemed taking it to the other extreme. "Now they're trying to open it up more, I think. Merrill wants to bring her class out some time for a field trip. You'd like them, you know." Probably more than her dream family.
Sybil found a nice, dry spot on the sand to put down the picnic basket.
“I would like to meet them sometime. I haven’t even met you sister really, not properly yet anyway.” Tom almost looks a bit embarrassed about it, but it seemed that, like in their dreams, he and Mary were destined to start out on rocky footing. “Maybe someday soon, should the opportunity come up.”
He sat down and glanced over at Sybil, a smile playing on his lips. “Do you ever wonder if everyone else is out there, wandering about, having no idea about all this? Somewhere out there is a Mrs Hughs and and Anna and Bates, and a Matthew. Christ, even a Thomas and an O’Brien, maybe, God forbid.”
"I think they must be out there," Sybil said, her gaze distant and dreamy. "I'm not really sure why we're dreaming and they aren't.. But I think they must me out there." Or maybe they were dreaming and Carson and her parents were just too proper to say anything. Possible, maybe, but Sybil didn't think it likely. Especially after Carson had met Tom.
"Tom, we're.. We're more than just friends, aren't we?" Part of her--the dream-part, probably--felt terribly forward and improper for asking such a thing, but it was the 21st century, and women could ask anything men could ask!
Tom just nodded and hummed thoughtfully, thinking about what they’d all be like in this world and not that one. Admittedly, he’d like to meet them, but that was only because he’d grown to feel some sort of connection with all them, even if he was sort of in a strange middle between the upstairs and the downstairs. But Sybil’s words pulled him out of his head, and he turned to her, pausing a few moments.
“I … Would think we are, yes,” he said at last. He wasn’t really sure what they were, but he knew it was more than friends, and he was both glad and terrified to be having this conversation. “Do you want that?”
Sybil nodded, unable to hold back a smile. "I do. I have for a while." She was blushing, more embarrassed to share this part. "At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I keep thinking about how much I want to kiss you." Okay, she'd only mentioned kissing twice now, but since she was under the age of twenty-five and likely had no experience with records, she was allowed to misuse the phrase.
Tom looked around, as if deep in thought about that for a moment before he glanced at her with something of a shy smile himself. “I guess if you want to kiss me that bad. It’s supposed to be lucky, I hear, to kiss an Irish bloke anyway.”
Sybil's smile brightened. "I've heard that, too." She scooted closer to him on the blanket, leaning in for a kiss--their first kiss.
He hoped it was a gentlemanly sort of kiss. The sort of kiss that maybe they’d had once upon a time at Downton Abbey, standing in a garage one night. When he pulled away he couldn’t help but smile a bit like an idiot, because, really, he’d never been so keen on a girl before in his life. “Well, do you feel luckier, then?”
Sybil's eyes opened slowly, and her smile was a little idiot-worthy, too. "I feel like the luckiest girl in the world," she said, her gaze starry-eyed as she looked up at him. She knew it was a ridiculous thing to say, but she felt safe talking that way around Tom.
Tom laughed, but it was a fond one. He was sort of chuffed about it, really. But after a moment his laughter passed and he cleared his throat, because there was something he’d rather just say and do and get it out of the way, rather than worry the whole time.
“I’ve got … I don’t know, I feel there’s something I need to tell you. About the dreams, so you’re ready for what’s coming.” He couldn’t imagine someone as sweet as Sybil reacting well to any of it, especially if taken by surprise.
Sybil was opening a dish of fruits and cheeses that Carson had prepared for them. She looked up at Tom when he spoke; he sounded serious. "We certainly move fast in them, don't we?" Or perhaps it only seemed that way. Either way, she didn't expect things to go so quickly here.
“Well, eight years of pining after you, I guess making up for lost time and all,” he teases. “And neither of us are the sort to hold back once we’ve put our minds to something.” Tom moves to help her set up the picnic, so he’s not sitting there uselessly. “How far are you? With the dreams and all?”
"Maybe it feels fast because the times you aren't there seem to go so quickly." Like there was nothing else to really pay attention to. She wasn't quite sure how that sounded.
"Well.." She blushed. It felt strange talking about these things when they weren't remotely there yet. "I dreamed about us running off to get married. And coming back to Downton for Mary's wedding."
Tom was sort of relieved that she was that far in. He wasn’t sure about how to breach the subject of Sybil being pregnant in the first place, so that was half the battle done.
“We have our baby at Downton, you know. Fittingly.” He gave her a bit of a smile. “I get us into some trouble in Dublin so we have to go back. But it’s …” Tom glanced at Sybil. “If something awful happened, to either of us, you’d want to know about it, right? You wouldn’t want me to keep you in the dark?”
"We do?" She brightened. She wouldn't admit it in the dreams, but a small part of her wanted her baby to have roots at Downton, a connection to where she grew up. Watching Carson with baby Samwise reminded her of that.
"Something awful happens?" Sybil frowned. "I.. I guess I should know," she said, hesitating. She didn't want to hear it, but it was probably better to be prepared. And she didn't want Tom to feel as though he was keeping a horrible secret from her.
“It’s just … The birth. It doesn’t go well. And I couldn’t tell you there, so I’ll tell you here, I’m sorry. I had a choice to make and I didn’t, and I’m sorry.” Tom sighed a moment. For as lovely as Downton was, it was a sad place, too. It was like nobody could ever be happy for too long. “It’s not right.”
"Tom..." She reached out, taking his hand; this was more important than setting up their picnic. And if he was saying what she thought he was, she wasn't sure either of them would be able to eat. "I don't understand...but I'm sure it's not your fault."
“I’m sorry. I’m ruining a perfectly lovely day.” Tom looked at her and pressed a kiss to her hair. “I just want you to know, that whatever happens, whatever you’re feeling when you wake up from those dreams, I’m right here. All right?”
It didn't seem like a lovely day anymore. She nodded, still frowning, before looking up at him. "I know," she said. "I'll find you."
Tom was trying to think of some way to salvage what had a been a nice outing. He picked up one of the pieces of cheese and chewed it thoughtfully.
“Do you really want me to meet your family, then?” he asked, smiling a bit as he teased. “Seems a pretty big step.”
Sybil brightened, glancing back up the hilly pathway to the house and then looking back up at Tom. "Well, it's no 'flying-to-Ireland'," she teased back. Really, she didn't have much interest in him meeting her family back in England, not right now. Her uncle had become even more important to her as of late, and although she didn't want to admit it, she was eager for Mary's approval--perhaps because it seemed like such a rare achievement.
“I guess not. I suppose we’re actually past the point where I should meet them. We need to do some backtracking.” And there was no reason to be nervous, since it wasn’t the Downton gang and he didn’t have to fight for Robert’s approval just yet. That eased the nerves.
"I think you'll like them. My uncle is very friendly, and my aunt is... Well, she's adorable." They were a quirky couple, and certainly not what one would expect after seeing their expensive home.
“Then whenever you want me to, I’ll meet them.” And it seemed only fair. At this point, Sybil had met his own family, and now that they’d decided they were a thing, it made sense.
Sybil smiled, feeling a bit as though she'd won some special honor. "Dinner is probably the best time. Uncle Frodo is an excellent cook. Don't worry, you don't need to wear a dinner jacket. Mary is the only one that really Dresses for meals."
“And Carson’s not going to look at me funny when I sit down at the big table?” he teases. “For the best. I don’t own anything reasonable to wear to dinner anyway. Some things never change, apparently.”
Sybil laughed. "I don't think he will." Really, Sybil would be a little excited if he did. She desperately wanted Carson to start dreaming, but not at Tom's expense.
“Then it’s settled. You just let me know when, and I’ll be there. I promise.”