London could be a chilly city in the spring, but the night that welcomed Sybil and Tom when they came out of the club was relatively warm. The girl eyed her companion with a small smile as he took off his bright red jacket and folded it over his arm, a feeling of warmth and easiness rushing through her body as she realized that he was looking at her too.

"Is it colder in Dublin this time of the year?" she asked, trying not to sound too nervous.

"Not really, no. A bit damper, maybe," he answered, a slightly nostalgic expression taking hold of his face at the thought of his hometown. "But it's not a big deal. We Dubliners are used to our inclement weather." The warm chuckle that escaped Tom's lips made Sybil smile.

"It's a bit colder where I come from, honestly." She said with a shrug. "But alas, as you have already pointed out, the weather's usually a whole lot nicer in the South, anyway."

"Ah, but I thought you were a true, born-and-raised Londoner?"

She laughed. "No, I'm afraid not. I was born in Yorkshire, near . . . well, near York, however redundant that sounds."

"Not really, no." He chuckled quietly, shaking his head. "But you never struck me as a country girl, Sybil Crawley. I mean, judging from your accent and all."

"Ah, well, I'm a box full of surprises," she teased; perhaps a bit nervously, as she didn't quite think he would approve of the reason why her accent sounded as polished and perfectly Southern English. However, she added, "What about you? Where in Ireland are you from, Mr. James Connolly?"

"Bray. It's a little coastal town, only a few minutes away from Dublin by car," he explained. "I lived there for over twenty years, even while I went to college. I really miss it sometimes, but you know – England isn't as terrible as my brother told me it would be."

She observed him quietly as they both made their way through the street, and smiled at how he shuffled his feet as he walked. She didn't know whether he did it out of uneasiness at the thought of his brother or if he was merely a shy man – one way or another, she found it terribly endearing.

"Ah, so there's a brother?" she questioned, inadvertently tiptoeing as she walked next to him.

"Yep," he answered, nodding his head carefully. "Name's Kieran. He's a bit older than me, but we haven't seen each other much lately."

"Why so?"

"Well . . . we're too different, I guess." He shrugged, looking slightly uncomfortable at the mention of his older brother. "I mean, we did get along when we were little. He would always pick on me, but I sort of accepted it because he was my older brother and . . . well, you know how that works, with your older sisters and all. But then I got a scholarship and started taking the train to Dublin every day, while he stayed home and worked at me Da's workshop. Then we just sort of drifted apart, especially when I moved here and he decided to stay in Ireland. He's always thought I felt like I was too good to stay, when in reality I left because I felt like I needed some time away from Ireland before going back."

"Oh." She bit her lip quietly and, out of pure instinct, reached for his hand and gently squeezed it. "I'm sorry. My older sisters and I haven't always gotten along, but . . . well, I do live with them, after all." She quickly pulled away when she noticed that his blue eyes were gazing at her. "Anyway – you said you got a scholarship? That's amazing, you must have been quite the smart kid. A child prodigy, perhaps?"

"Not really," he shrugged in what seemed like a modest gesture, although Sybil knew that it probably meant that he didn't want to acknowledge that she was right. "I wanted to study History and Political Science at Trinity College, so I applied for a full scholarship – because well, my family wouldn't have been able to afford it otherwise. And I somehow got accepted and ended up studying there."

Sybil did a small chuckle and shook her head. "Well, that proves my theory."

"Which theory?" He replied, somewhat amused.

"That I, fortunately enough, struck up a conversation with the smartest guy in that club."

A grin seemed to spread through Tom's face after that, and Sybil couldn't help but laugh a little. They walked together in silence for a few minutes – he kicking small pebbles quietly, she observing every movement his body made. She couldn't quite believe she had walked away from the club where both of her sisters had last seen her with a complete stranger . . . but she had, and she was enjoying every minute of it. Even though she had met Tom only a little over a couple of hours ago, she already felt like she knew him since forever – she knew that he was kind and intelligent and idealistic and sometimes even a bit shy. And of course, she also knew that he was very attractive. She even had to remind herself that she had just gotten out of a rather spiky relationship, and that she shouldn't be daydreaming – or would it be considered nightdreaming, given the time of the day? – about another man, no matter how sweet or blond or Irish or incredibly funny he was.

"So what did you study?" he asked finally, breaking her train of thought. "And what brought you to London?"

"Well, I went to Medical School at Cambridge for a couple of years, but then I sort of dropped it because I realized I wanted to be a nurse," she explained. "So I studied Nursing at the University of York, because there wasn't an actual Nursing program at Cambridge – I gather they're too stuck-up for such lowly studies, God forbid people having aspirations other than being lawyers or doctors or quantum physicists – and then moved here because I got a job at Whittington Hospital, near Finsbury Park."

"God, Cambridge. Talk about being smart," he said, his eyebrows raised in genuine awe, and also in a feeble gesture of amusement towards her little rant about her first university.

She couldn't help but blush a little at this – after all, she had grown up under the shadow of Mary's absolutely perfect academic record, first at their school and then at Oxford, and nobody had ever really congratulated her on her own merits. In fact, her parents had always sort of taken for granted that she would follow her older sister's footsteps and become a Nobel Prize laureate or the doctor who would discover the cure for cancer – and of course, when they found out that their youngest daughter wanted little other than tending to patients and making their lives easier, Sybil couldn't help but feel like they looked a slightly disappointed, even after her mother told her that all they wanted was for her to be happy.

"So you're here on duty, as my Grandpa would say," concluded Tom, his gentle smile completely interrupting her thoughts. "That's nice."

Sybil pursed her lips, wondering whether she should tell him about Larry. After all, she had applied for Whittington Hospital because he had gotten a job at the HSBC headquarters in Canary Wharf. For some reason, she didn't want Tom to know about him just yet – in a way, it would feel like bursting the perfect bubble that had been that night so far. But at the same time, she felt like she couldn't lie to him – not like Larry had lied to her several times over the past few years, at least.

"Well," she began, chewing on her inner cheek thoughtfully. "Actually, yes, I came here on duty. But I also decided to move all the way down from York because of my boyfriend. He studied Economics at Cambridge and wanted to be a banker since he was, what, nine years old, so he moved here first chance he got."

Tom seemed to pause for a few moments after that, as though trying to digest what she had just said. "Oh. So there's a boyfriend."

"No, no!" She answered quickly. "Not now, anyway. We broke up a couple of months ago."

"Oh." Was that relief on Tom's face? The man looked at her with a moderately curious expression, and asked, "Why did that happen? I mean, I'm no one to pry, but . . ."

"Oh, no, it's okay," she shrugged. "We – well, I guess we weren't that intimate anymore, but I didn't realize it at first. You know, we were both really young, and we had just moved here from the countryside, and I spent my days wandering around the city and visiting my sisters, whom I hadn't been able to see on a weekly basis since they left for university over ten years ago. But I never thought we were at a bad place or anything, until . . . well, until I caught him in bed with a friend from work that I'd once brought home for dinner."

Sybil couldn't help but feel surprised upon realizing that she had been able to talk about it freely, without feeling any sort of remorse or guilt or even the amount of pain that had engulfed her on the first days after the break-up. She even felt like a weight was being lifted off her shoulders by confiding her thoughts in Tom – she had never talked about it with anyone other than her sisters, and it somehow felt relieving to realize that she was beginning to come to terms with the fact that the whole mess she'd gotten herself into hadn't been her fault, but Larry's. Because, in the end, that was what had made her feel so incredibly miserable over the past couple of months – not the idea of losing Larry, because she had never genuinely thought she loved him, or at least not the way her parents or Matthew and Mary loved each other; but, however, she couldn't bear to think that her disinterest or spontaneous manners had been what had led Larry to begin an affair with a woman he hardly knew.

"Bastard," he heard Tom mutter under his breath. "What the hell was wrong with him?"

"I don't know, honestly," she sighed. "I guess we were at a sort of bad place, but I never realized it because I was too caught up in the whole 'moving-to-London' hype. And well, I always knew that he wouldn't be the most constant boyfriend. We've known each other since primary school, and he's always been the sort of guy who used to have a weekly fling until our friends set us up."

"I really can't picture you dating someone like that," he said, shaking his head. Upon realizing that Sybil was looking at him with a rather funny expression, he coughed and added, "I mean, I don't know you that much, but I'd figured you would have been in a relationship with a more . . . decent man."

"Define decent, Tom?" she teased.

"Um, well . . . someone who knows who Emmeline Pankhurst and Virginia Woolf were, at least?"

"Fair point, Mr. Irishman."

They both laughed and, when nothing could be heard but Sybil's soft giggles and Tom's gentle chuckles, the girl realized that, much to her surprise, she hadn't felt as happy as she was in that moment since a very long time ago. Not since before leaving for university, at least. In a way, he made her feel at home – not in the sense of overwhelm that she felt at the sight of her family's estate at Downton, but more like the idea of a cozy, small home that she had dreamt of ever since she was a little girl.

"You know, Tom," she said with a faint smile. "I'm glad I bumped into that French Revolutionary cockade of yours. Even if you don't like Ed Sheeran and would ramble on and on about the Irish War of Independence."

"Why, thank you," he replied, rolling his eyes; however, he couldn't help but smile too. "But yes, I'm glad I bumped into your Annie Hall hat too. Even if you like Ed Sheeran and would rather talk about feminism, or how dreadfully snobbish Cambridge is."

"For the record, it is really snobbish, you know," she laughed, eyeing him with an amused expression. She bit her lip at the sight of his bright blue eyes and, mustering up the courage that an outspoken girl like her surprisingly needed in that moment, she added, "Anyway, the thing is . . . well, I really mean it when I say I'm glad I met you, Tom. I might not know you well enough yet, but – the truth is, tonight is the most fun I've had in years."

"Yeah, tonight has been pretty fun," he mused, a smile spreading across his face as she spoke. Sybil felt how he caught her hand in his, rubbing his thumb ever so gently against her skin. His eyes met hers again and he said, in a lower tone, "Truth be told, I'd be glad to get to know you better, Sybil. That is, if you'll let me."

Sybil nodded vigorously, and smiled at the goofy grin that had taken hold of Tom's face as his hand slowly went up to her face. He caressed her cheek with the tips of his fingers, sending shivers down Sybil's spine and making the girl smile in anticipation. The tenderness of his touch and the brightness in his eyes made her feel completely and utterly lost for a few seconds, in a world where nothing but the two of them mattered and nothing was more important to her than kissing the lips of the man standing in front of her.

And that was, of course, when her phone rang and Tom's lips, inches away from hers, parted in a light chuckle.

"I'm – oh, for God's sake," she whispered as she pulled her phone out and saw the name MARY QUEEN OF SCOTCH TAPE on its screen. "I've got to pick it up – my sisters might be on the verge of contacting the MI5."

"All right, all right," he said, a mixture of amusement and only very subtle frustration in his voice.

She sighed and unlocked her phone, getting ready for what was likely to become one of Mary's legendary scolds.

"SYBIL," her older sister hissed through the phone. "Where are you? We've been looking for you for the past twenty minutes, and the guy at the entrance just told us you left over two hours ago. For God's sake, Matthew even had to ring Larry in case you'd gotten drunk and decided to pay him a visit or something."

Sybil couldn't help but frown at her sister's words. She knew Mary found it hard to be nice sometimes, so to speak, especially when she felt distressed or angry – however, it still baffled her that her older sister would say something like that.

"Actually," she said, a hint of pride in her voice. "I'm nowhere near Larry's house. I'm right next to Victoria Station."

"Victoria Station?" Mary repeated. Sybil could practically imagine the redness in her cheeks and Edith and Matthew's worried faces next to her. "What on Earth are you doing there, Sybil Cora Crawley? I swear on Grandpa Crawley's grave – "

She heard some fidgeting at the other end of the line, then Mary complaining about not being allowed to hold her own phone, and finally Matthew's lower but calmer voice. "Sybil? Hi, it's Matthew. I'm sorry about that, Mary was really worried about you. I believe she said you're at Victoria Station?"

"Yes, exactly," she sighed. "I'm here, but don't worry. I'm not alone, and I can get back in a few minutes. I'm sorry I worried you all, I didn't think you would notice."

"Well, of course we did, Sybil," Matthew said gently. "Are you sure you don't want us to go pick you up? And how come you're not alone?"

"I . . . I'll see you there, don't worry," she said quickly. "Bye, Matthew." And, before her sister's boyfriend could utter another word, she hung up and looked at Tom with a worried expression. "I just ruined everything, right?"

"What?" he asked, clearly perplexed. "No, not at all! It's okay, I get that your sisters would get concerned if you suddenly went missing. I gather that we're meant to be heading back to the club, then?"

"I'm afraid so," she nodded, but added quietly, "Tom?"

"Hm?"

"I'm still going to kiss you, if that's okay."

His eyebrows rose, but he immediately nodded, a broad smile on his face. "Gladly."

And so she did, standing on her tiptoes and pulling at the flaps of his red revolutionary jacket as her Annie Hall hat fell to the ground.

"Oh, heavens," Mary sighed at the sight of her youngest sister, a little over half an hour later. "I already thought she'd gotten lost or something."

"Relax, Mary," Matthew said, squeezing her hand. He nodded towards the man walking next to her, visibly amazed by how little he resembled Sybil's ex-boyfriend. "Besides, it seems like she found herself some company."

"Who is that, anyway?" asked Edith, eyeing the young man carefully.

"Who cares?" countered Mary, shaking her head. "I just want to go home and catch some sleep. My feet are killing me, and I still have to text Mama to tell her that Sybil's okay and hasn't been kidnapped after all."

"You told Mama what?"

"Well, you know, it was a precautionary measure."

"I can't believe you sometimes, Mary."

"And I can't believe you didn't even bother looking for our little sister while Matthew and I were away."

"Well, she's not a baby! She can take care of herself."

"Unlike you, apparently."

Sybil, only a few meters away from them, glanced at Tom and let out a sigh upon listening to her sister's light quarreling. They had already exchanged phone numbers and agreed to text each other as soon as possible – but Sybil did not feel like letting go of that night just yet. Not if it meant leaving Tom just to be scolded by Mary, with occasional interventions made by Matthew or Edith to remark how immature it had been of her to wander off with some man she didn't even know.

"Do you think they'll want to murder me?" Tom asked quietly.

"No, I don't think Matthew and Edith would necessarily have anything against you," she answered thoughtfully. "I'm not so sure about Mary, though."

Tom groaned. "So much for starting off with the right foot."

Sybil laughed, and gave his hand a gentle squeeze before Mary's voice brought them back to reality.

"Sybil," she sighed, placing a hand on her sister's shoulder. "For God's sake, I can't believe you did that. Why didn't you tell us you were leaving? And with who, for that matter?"

"Well, nevermind that now," Matthew said in a peaceful tone, and then smiled at the man in front of him and stuck out his hand. "Matthew Crawley, nice to meet you."

"Tom Branson," the other man replied, shaking his hand, and then looked at the other two women. "I gather you're Mary and Edith."

"Indeed we are," said Mary, perhaps a bit too sharply. She then looked at Sybil again and added, "I think we should head home now. Does your friend need a ride?"

"Oh, no, I can manage on my own," Tom said quickly. "The tube's about to open anyway."

"Right you are," Matthew said and, sensing that his girlfriend's sister and the younger man needed a moment alone, he added, "I suppose we should go fetch the car then. Mary, Edith, will you come with me while the two of them say goodbye?"

"Um – sure, that's a good idea," Edith said, still not quite wrapping her head around what had just happened. She placed a hand on Mary's shoulder and muttered something about making her a good cup of tea when they got home and, with that, the three of them were gone.

Sybil sighed and, when her sisters and Matthew were out of earshot, she said, "I'm terribly sorry, I promise. They're just – well, I kind of get why they're acting like this, because I hadn't left the house until tonight and – "

"Hey, hey, don't worry," Tom said reassuringly, placing his hands atop of hers. "I promise, it's okay. Let's just call it a night and we'll talk whenever you feel like it, all right?"

"Well . . . all right, then," she sighed, and smiled at the feeling of his skin against hers. "So you'll let me know when you're free to get some coffee, right?"

"Right you are, Sybil Crawley," he said, a bright smile on his face. "Now, off you go. I don't want your big sister to rip my head off."

She couldn't help but laugh at that. "Well, you've clearly earned yourself a goodbye kiss, Tom Branson."

And I hope it won't be the last, she thought moments before standing on her tiptoes and placing her lips against his for a few seconds. She then beamed at him one last time and, upon hearing Mary's loud complain about how obnoxious everyone was being that night, gave his hand one last gentle squeeze before walking back to the car.

Little did she know that, in fact, that would be the first of the many goodbye kisses she was to give Tom Branson over the course of the years.

Well, that's that! I hope you enjoyed it. I'm super sorry for the late update – I wanted to have this done by Monday or Tuesday, but those days were strangely hectic for me, and then I left on vacation on Wednesday and yadda yadda yadda – so anyway, here it is, a week later than I promised. I hope it's not too terrible, since it's my first attempt at portraying these characters – but I've really enjoyed it, so I'm sure I'll be back to writing some Downton Abbey fanfiction soon enough. Until then, please let me know what you thought of this one via review!

-cluelessclown.