This idea arose while I was watching the Election counts last month. I had been thinking about all the tumblr posts that said "Vote! If not for you, do it for Sybil!". Then the idea of Tom screaming at the TV...yeah. I just had to do it. So I wrote this last night just to help finish off my FF notebook.

And the political views in this story are based on my own family's. If you feel obliged to leave a very angry note my way, please know that is expected (though I would prefer not to receive any).

It's my birthday tomorrow. Reviews are a lovely present.

Disclaimer: I do not own Downton Abbey, nor do I have any affiliation with the Obama/Romney campaigns.

Political Madness

"Bastards!"

Sybil jumps as her husband's voice echoes throughout their small apartment. She pokes her head out of the kitchen and observes her husband.

"Tom?"

She enters the den to see him madly gesturing at their tiny television.

Good Lord…

"This country is bull, darling. If we were in Ireland-"

"You know very well that we had to come here, Tom."

He shuts his mouth, but continues to seethe at the television.

The day is November 6, 2012. It was Election Night. The question remained a mystery: who would win the U.S. Presidency for the next four years?

Tom and Sybil had moved to America shortly after they were shunned by all of the Crawleys and Bransons in England and Ireland (respectively). Tom had found a decent-paying job as the political journalist for the New York Times.

Sybil, on the other hand, was a nurse at St. Jude's Hospital. She was one of the best in the field. Therefore, she knew how to treat her husband when things got a bit out of hand (drinking-wise).

Tom, he tended to get a bit…obsessed…with his work. Whether it was the new United Nations leader or the latest sex scandal, he would always bellow his beliefs against whatever it was. There would be times when alcohol would also get involved, making it a bit…traumatic to be around him.

But this Presidential Election…he was a quite upset by the "injustice" of it all.
"They're both terrible!"

First off, he claimed that Obama had led the country even further into debt than Bush had. He would never cease his constant government spending. Yes, he did help get Osama Bin Laden murdered, but would it really keep the nation safe? Having him again as President would be terrible for the American people.

"…Four years of Obama has led this country down the path of bankruptcy…"

However, he believed that Romney was no better. In his eyes, Romney could get things done, but he would bring along the other people of his society. In other words, the rich and snobby would get all the benefits while the lower classes were stuck with nothing. It was a terrible reminder of the struggle the two of them had to face before they could be properly married.

"…And Romney will bring all sorts of baggage to Congress!"

"How the hell will either of them get anything done?!"

Sybil rather enjoyed her husband's ramblings. When they were younger (that is, when they were still a top-level University student and mechanic in love), they would always talk about politics. It didn't matter if life was being terribly difficult. Politics were their escape from the world, like communicating in a language they both spoke.

But these days, it was getting out of hand. It was always a struggle to keep food on the table (Tom was always grabbing a bottle of whiskey to take home while Sybil was always doing the week's annual grocery shopping), so they were always stressed. Tom barely got any sleep because he worked into the late, wee hours of the morning. Sybil sometimes took shifts on the weekends, despite the fact that a nurse of her position was not required to do so.

"Tom, darling, don't fret-"

"Don't fret? Don't give me that wagon full of crap, Sybil! This country is all wrong!"

"Things will get better, dear."

"And how do you know?"

"For God's sake, Tom!"

Her patience had finally worn thin.

She stomped out of the kitchen and slapped his cheek, loud and hard.

As he sat with his mouth agape, she pushed down the guilt that began to wallow up in her stomach.

"I don't care if you hate this country, Tom. I really don't care. But you cannot expect me to just accept that it's alright for you to criticize people you don't properly know!"

"Darling-" He was slightly rubbing his cheek.

"No! You've done enough talking for fifty lifetimes, Tom Branson! It's my turn, now."

And then she started to ramble about anything and everything she could think of. The events she described had only occurred in the past month, but an onlooker might have thought that they had been memories of years and tears of agonizing fury.

When she finally finished, Sybil fell onto the couch beside her husband. He gulped as he asked,

"May I speak now?"

She nodded her consent.

"I didn't know you felt that way, darling…"

"You ought to be." She muttered darkly, pushing a stray strand of hair out of her eyes.

He smirked. She was endearing, even when she had a temper.

"I'm awfully sorry for being such an Irish minx."

She bit her lip, but soon laughed and lightly pressed her lips to his.

"It's all in the past, now."