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Jimmy had always made wishes. It wasn’t unusual for him to let out a sigh and a wish, telling Thomas how he wished it were his half-day, or how he wished there was never any silver to polish ever again, or that he wished he could just sit and play piano for as long as he wanted. It was just something he did, with no thought really. So when Daisy asked him what he wished for, now that Christmas was around the corner, he did as usual and just answered the first thing that came to mind. Well, maybe not the first thing. But the first thing he could say aloud.
“A piano.”
Mrs Patmore laughed. “You’re not asking for much then, are you?”
“It’s Christmas,” Jimmy grumbled, “M'allowed to wish for what I want, aren’t I?”
Daisy smiled at him. “I think that’s a wonderful wish, Jimmy. What about you Mr Barrow?” She asked, turning to Thomas.
“For this conversation to end,” Thomas said gravelly, putting his cigarette out in the ashtray.
“Oh, Mr Barrow!” Daisy chided him, “You’re such a spoilsport.” Thomas just gave her a tight lipped smile, and no further answer.
That conversation sparked an interest in Jimmy. Did Thomas ever wish for something? Had Jimmy ever heard him use the words ‘I wish’? He couldn't think of a time where he had. Not once. This spurred an idea. He wanted to figure out what Thomas’s true wish actually was, needed to know it. Because he had to have one, didn’t he? Everyone wished for something. So for the coming weeks he kept subtly prying.
First he asked casually during a smoke break.
“So, Mr Barrow, if you had one wish, what would you wish for?”
“For you to stop stealing my cigarettes.”
Jimmy huffed. That wasn’t exactly what he’d meant.
He tried again during a card game.
“Oh how I wish to go to bed. What about you? Have any wishes at the moment?”
“I wish you weren’t so shite at cards, so we could have a good game for once.” Thomas said around his cigarette.
Jimmy started to get frustrated.
Next he asked during breakfast.
“Mmh, crumpets! If I could wish to eat only one breakfast for the rest of m’life it would be crumpets. How about you, Mr Barrow? What would you wish for breakfast?”
Thomas buttered some toast. “For you to stick that crumpet in your mouth and be quiet.”
Jimmy frowned and ate his crumpet.
He decided he needed help. He recruited Daisy.
“Say, Mr Barrow,” she asked in the kitchen while she was loading up some trays to take up to the dining room, “‘ave you thought some more about that Christmas wish?” She glanced at Jimmy.
Jimmy grabbed the tray and lingered.
“Oh I have Daisy,” Thomas smiled. Jimmy’s ears perked up as he slowly walked toward the door. “For Jimmy to stop dawdling and get that tray up before it all gets cold.”
Jimmy quickened his pace, muttering to himself. “Grumpy old sod.”
He realized this was going to be more difficult than he thought. He needed more help. First, he involved Anna.
They were all having tea and pastries one evening, thanks to Mrs Patmore feeling generous.
“Let’s all take a round and give our Christmas wishes,” Anna said. “Why don’t you start us off, Mr Barrow?”
“Certainly,” Thomas said, “I wish that his lordship goes blind.”
Everyone stared at him.
“What?” Carson boomed. “That is not amusing at all Mr Barrow, and I’d-”
“Sooo,” Thomas continued, cutting Carson of, “that he doesn’t have to see the crumbly mess that’s Jimmy’s livery.”
Jimmy reddened and looked down. He was indeed very crumbly. He brushed himself off. “Very funny,” he gritted out. Thomas just smirked at him.
He talked Mrs Hughes into giving it a try.
She struck up a conversation with Carson in the servant’s hall while they were both going over the coming Christmas preparations.
“What do you wish for, for Christmas, Mr Carson?”
Jimmy perked up. He and Thomas were playing cards, Jimmy was in the middle of shuffling his deck.
Carson grumbled. “I didn’t think you’d be interested in such silly things as wishes, Mrs Hughes.”
“I do think one can indulge in a little bit of wishing, even if it is silly. Don’t you think so, Mr Barrow?” She smiled, looking over at Thomas.
Jimmy made himself ready.
“I suppose so,” Thomas answered.
There was an excited jolt in Jimmy’s stomach. This was it. He was going to answer this time!
“See?” Mrs Hughes said to Carson. “Even Mr Barrow agrees.”
“Very well then,” Carson said, “if it amuses you. I wish for good health for the family,” he smiled at her.
“Of course you do,” she sighed, shaking her head. “And what about you, Mr Barrow? Care to indulge me?”
Jimmy watched Thomas intently.
“I wish,” Thomas drawled, “that Jimmy would stop staring at me, and deal the cards already.”
Jimmy almost gave up. But just almost.
He had Molesley give it a try; Thomas answered that he wished Jimmy would tie his tie properly. Jimmy fixed his tie. Not that it needed fixing. Mrs Patmore tried coaxing him with a pastry; he answered that he wished Jimmy would stop fussing with his hair every five minutes. This was an outright lie, Jimmy did not do this. Not at all. Alfred, in his bumbling and oaf-like state, tried; Thomas answered that he wished Jimmy would stop gawking at Ivy. Alfred reddened and agreed. Jimmy thought he should’ve known it was a mistake involving him. Mr Bates even tried; Thomas then answered that he wished Jimmy wasn't so daft. Jimmy thought Thomas might be running out of ideas for witty replies then. Ivy gave it a go; Thomas said that he wished Jimmy wouldn’t snore so terribly, because it kept waking him up even a few doors down. This was not true either, Jimmy did not snore thank you very much.
Jimmy decided to bring out the big guns and involve the one person who actually had a background with Thomas. He asked Miss Baxter.
“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” She asked him.
“I tried that. He won’t answer me.”
“Well,” she smiled sadly, “maybe he doesn’t know the answer either?”
Jimmy mulled that over for a couple of days. Could that be? Could it be that Thomas, the polished, snarky, wonderful, beauti- erhm, handsome? Yes that was better, that was okay to think. Jimmy did have eyes. Could it be that Thomas Barrow, who was all of those things and more, did not have a wish? Jimmy couldn’t believe it. He asked Baxter to give it a try anyway.
She agreed, but said she wouldn’t push it.
They were in the servant’s hall late in the evening. It was two days until Christmas. Only Miss Baxter, Molesley, Jimmy and Thomas were there.
“Mr Barrow,” she asked, her voice soft, “Did you have a wish as a child that never came true?”
Jimmy’s stomach did a little flop. No one had used that tactic before.
Thomas seemed to think for a moment. “Yes, Miss Baxter,” he finally answered her, “but I believe most children wish for things they can never have.”
“That’s true,” she said, nodding. “Although, I do wonder why we stop?”
“Maybe we think nothing good will come of it?” Molesley said. Jimmy thought that was surprisingly intelligent coming from him.
“I’d say that’s it.” Thomas huffed. “Although some of us aren’t smart enough to figure that out, even as adults. So we keep on wishing anyway.” He pressed his lips together.
Jimmy frowned.
“Right. I’m off,” Thomas said stiffly, as he got up from his chair and left.
Jimmy sighed. That was it then. Thomas just thought wishing was silly and childish. He probably thought Jimmy was silly and childish.
Jimmy was defeated. He stopped his investigation, snapping at everyone who kept asking him if he figured out Mr Barrow’s wish yet. He regretted involving any of them. He walked around in a cloud of grey, all his Christmas cheer gone. He was like a balloon that had been deflated.
“What’s gotten into you?” Alfred asked, after Jimmy had snapped at him for asking for the butter.
“None of your business,” Jimmy snarled, and then quickly left the room before Carson could scold him.
Christmas eve came and Jimmy sulked over his dinner, wanting the holiday to be over so he could think of something else. The fact that the rest of the staff were jolly and cheery just amplified his bad mood. He fled outside for a smoke.
He had just taken his first drag of his cigarette, the smoke burning in his lungs, when the servant’s door opened and painted a rectangle of warm light onto the ground. Jimmy could hear the laughter from inside. Thomas came to stand beside him. He bumped his shoulder into Jimmy’s.
“Come on,” he said. “Out with it.”
“What?” Jimmy didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh. It did anyway.
“Something’s the matter. You’re like a wet sponge.”
Jimmy just grumbled.
Thomas bumped his shoulder again.
“You think I’m silly,” Jimmy said.
“What?” Thomas frowned.
“And childish.” Jimmy didn’t like how weak his voice sounded.
“Jimmy, what are you talking about?”
Jimmy sighed. “All I wanted was to know your wish. To know what you wished for, for Christmas. But I get it. It’s silly. It’s childish. I’m silly and childish and I’ve not learnt that there’s no point in wishing even though nothing ever comes of it.” He threw his cigarette on the ground. “Merry Christmas, Mr Barrow. I’m going to bed.”
He stormed inside, running up the stairs, and didn’t stop even though he could hear Carson having a fit in the servant’s hall. He slammed his door shut and sat down heavily on his bed, his face in his hands. He never wanted Christmas ever again. Didn’t want to see a single branch of holly or see a Christmas tree or eat a mince pie or hear a bell or a carol or anything ever again.
There was a soft knock on his door. Jimmy held his breath. If he pretended to sleep they would go away.
“Jimmy,” Thomas said on the other side of the door, “I know you’re there. Now stop sulking and come to my room. I’ve something to show you.”
Jimmy heard the shuffle of footsteps. He listened. When he heard nothing more he opened the door and peeked out. The corridor was empty. Thomas’s door, however, was open. It was never open. He chided himself for letting his curiosity get the better of him, but he couldn’t stay away. Which was, of course, exactly what Thomas had counted on, he thought to himself. How he hated to be predictable. He peeked inside the room. He frowned.
He shuffled inside. “Why do you have a piano in your room?”
Thomas grinned, one hand on the piano in question. “Guess.” He said.
Jimmy shook his head. “I haven’t a clue.”
Thomas laughed. “Sometimes Jimmy, I wonder how daft you can be.”
A hot anger filled Jimmy’s chest. “Very funny,” he said, turning to leave, “making me come in here so you can just-”
“It’s for you,” Thomas said softly, cutting him off.
Jimmy turned again. He stared at Thomas. “What?” He couldn’t have heard that right.
“It’s what you wished for,” Thomas said. “A piano.”
“But-” Jimmy racked his brain. “Oh. I did.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind about it,” Thomas said. He sounded nervous.
“Don’t be daft.” Jimmy shook his head in awe. “But this is- it’s too much, Thomas. Where did you even get this?”
“Not easily,” Thomas grinned.
“But it must’ve cost a fortune. I can’t accept this.”
“Yes you can,” Thomas said. “And not a fortune. Just a small one.”
“But- But why?” Jimmy looked at him with big eyes.
Thomas smiled, a crooked sad smile that Jimmy knew all too well. “You know why,” he said softly.
Jimmy felt he might cry. He felt he might laugh. Felt he might shout or jump or shake Thomas or hug him or scold him for spending so much money on him. He felt he needed to run a mile, to hold his breath, to dance, to lie down, to run outside and roll in the snow. He felt like he might explode from all the things he was feeling and he didn’t know what to do with himself, so he did the one thing that seemed to be the right thing and he lunged forward and wrapped his arms around a very startled Thomas. He hugged him tight, his arms around Thomas’s neck, his cheek against Thomas’s.
“Thank you,” he breathed out. “Thank you, Thomas. This- It’s the most wonderful thing anyone has ever done for me.”
He heard as well as felt the awkward chuckle Thomas let out.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“Like it? Are you mad, I love it! I can’t believe you did this for me.”
“Of course I did, silly boy,” Thomas said softly, finally hugging him back. “I’d do anything for you.”
Jimmy felt like he might float away if Thomas weren’t holding on to him. His heart swelled, growing bigger and bigger until Jimmy worried it might not fit inside his chest anymore. He drew back, looking into Thomas’s grey eyes. Their faces were so close Jimmy’s nose almost touched Thomas’s.
“Jimmy,” Thomas whispered.
Jimmy closed his eyes and leaned in. Thomas let out a startled sound as their lips met and Jimmy’s heart grew even bigger, a part of it no longer fitting inside him and it spilled over into Thomas. Thomas moved his lips against Jimmy’s, and when he parted them to let his tongue touch Jimmy’s, Jimmy thought he might die of sheer joy and want and need. Thomas drew back, pulling Jimmy in and holding him close to his heart.
“Oh my darling, darling boy,” he whispered, “What are you doing to me?”
“That’s what I really wanted,” Jimmy said into Thomas’s chest, “but I couldn’t exactly tell Daisy that.”
Thomas chuckled, squeezing him tight. “No, I reckon you couldn’t.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.”
“Would’ve saved me a bit of money if you did,” Thomas said, a smile on his lips.
“I’ll help you take it back. Get your money back.”
“You will do nothing of the sort. We’ll take this piano into your room and you will play and I will watch you, if you’ll let me.”
“You’re impossible,” Jimmy grinned. He couldn’t remember ever being this happy. “I’ll play for you whenever you want.”
“Good,” Thomas kissed the top of his head.
“Will you tell me your wish now? You must have one. I need to get you something in return.”
Thomas laughed. An earnest, happy laugh that Jimmy instantly fell in love with. “Oh my darling, don’t you understand? You’ve already given me everything I could ever ask for.”
“But- oh.” Jimmy’s heart swelled once again.
“I thought you might figure it out a bit sooner,” Thomas smiled. “I guess you are a bit daft after all.”
“Oi!” Jimmy pushed his fingers into Thomas’s sides, making him jump. “All you said was how I couldn’t tie a tie and how I had crumbs on me and that I fiddle with my hair too much.”
“I did,” Thomas said, drawing back so he could look at Jimmy. “Don’t you see?”
“See what?”
Thomas smiled a crooked smile. “That all my wishes were about you, of course. It’s just, I couldn’t exactly tell Mrs Patmore that I wish to run my hands through your hair, to feel if it’s as soft as I imagine, or tell Alfred that I wish you’d flirt with me like you flirt with Ivy, or tell Daisy that the only wish I have is to make you happy for as long as I live.”
Jimmy blinked, tears misting his eyes, and pulled Thomas down into a kiss. He let his lips explore Thomas’s, their tongues meeting again and Jimmy’s body was afire. He heard Thomas gasp and kissed him anew. When they drew back, panting for air, Thomas pressed his forehead against Jimmy’s, his face open and unguarded, and whispered.
“It’s always been you, Jimmy. You’re my wish.”