A/N: Technically meant to be a oneshot, but I'm trying to be more conscious of long things so I cut it in half. Bears no real relevance to the summary, but I didn't know how else to describe it. Based on the prompt, Secret Santa, even if it's a fairly recent thing. Not really edited to my satisfaction, but I've been too bone-achingly tired lately to tweak it properly. And I don't usually do 'tired'. Supermarkets are the worst places to work at this time of year.

Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey.

Gift Swap

It had been a Downton tradition for longer than Anna had worked there. Every year without fail, when Christmas came around, each member of staff's name would be studiously scribed by one of the housemaids or hall boys, then folded into small, neat squares and tossed into a hat. Then, with the servants' hall teeming at the seams with eager workers, everyone would draw out one piece of paper. A present would then be purchased for whoever's name was scribed on that scrap. It made it easier than trying to buy a gift for multiple members of staff, and it ensured that everyone received something in return.

Anna had always enjoyed that particular Downton quirk, but it had become even more enjoyable – and nerve-wracking – since John Bates had entered her life. The ensuing years had ensured that she looked forward to the tradition even more fiercely than she ever had done before; the chance to buy the fine man a gift was something that had thrilled and terrified her in equal measures. She had known that it would make her happy to purchase a present for him while passing it off simply as a necessity, hiding the truth of the matter. On the other hand, her palms had sweated madly at the thought of actually buying him something, for she'd been petrified that she was bound to buy him something that he didn't like or need, tarnishing his view of her forever.

She had never pulled his name. The first Christmases after his arrival she had plucked out a groom and a hall boy respectively. Once, she had pulled Mrs. Hughes' name. But never had she picked out his.

He had never picked out hers either. The first time, much to her amusement, he had picked out Thomas' name, and had grouched about it to her for days. In the end he'd bought him another carton of cigarettes, since the younger man got through them so quickly. One year, he hadn't received anything himself, for Miss O'Brien had deemed herself unlucky enough to have chosen his name, and consequently chose to ignore it. She'd had a stern talking to from both the housekeeper and the butler on the importance of good sportsmanship, but John had told Anna that he hadn't minded in the slightest.

"In fact, I'm rather glad," he'd said. "I wouldn't have been too shocked if she'd bought a bottle of poison and disguised it as elderflower."

She'd almost laughed until she'd cried at that, elbowing him in the ribs for being such a fright.

It hadn't been quite as important to her in the years that they'd courted each other. Shyly, they had exchanged their own gifts, hidden out of sight in the courtyard, books and ribbons and all manner of other sentimental things. But Anna had still yearned to pull his name out of that hat, to give him a surprise gift on top of the ones that she handed to him personally.

The draw always happened at the very beginning of December to give everyone enough time to sort out gifts on their half-days, and to give them enough time to be wrapped. And this year was very special, because her husband was back by her side, free from prison forever. It had been torture last year, knowing that she still had to go through the motions while he languished in a grotty cell. It had felt deceitful, somehow. But that was in the past.

On the morning of the annual draw they woke as early as usual, spending a few minutes reclining leisurely together, exchanging kisses and caresses. They forced themselves to quit the bed before they got too distracted. Anna hummed as she shimmied into her underthings, watching John pull on a clean undershirt across the other side of the room.

"Are you excited about the infamous draw today?" she asked him as she wandered over to the wardrobe to retrieve her dress.

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "I'm not sure it's something to really get excited over."

"How disappointing of you. I thought you'd have more enthusiasm than that to say you're back here with me." But she was smiling at the twinkle in his eyes.

"Well, I suppose there is one thing that I'm looking forward to."

"Oh? And what's that, pray tell?"

He shot her a smirk. "Well, it means I don't have to wrap the present anymore."

"And what gave you that idea?"

"Well, you are a darling," he said.

"You're impossible."

"Perhaps. But, after all," he added teasingly, "what are the other uses of a wife?"

She stared open-mouthed for a moment before springing into action, reaching across to give him a smarting smack.

He pouted, rubbing the spot on his arm. "What was that for?"

"You know very well, John Bates. I'm not a little wife."

"Well, you are," he pointed out. "You're barely five foot two."

He was utterly maddening. Still, she couldn't stop herself from leaning up to press her mouth against his, lips curving into a smile over his. His hands moved to cup her hips either side, guiding her lower body closer to his. She slanted her mouth more firmly against him, tongue slipping out to run across his bottom lip. He made a little sound in the back of his throat and attempted to deepen it, but she stepped away from him with a smirk.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Bates, but a wife is only good for one thing, and I'm afraid it's not kissing."

Thoroughly beaten, he accepted the defeat graciously, moving away from her to fix his tie and collar at her mirror. Sobering, he tugged at it with a flourish before turning to face her again.

"I hope I don't get someone like Ivy, though," he said. "She's a lovely girl, but I wouldn't have a clue. What do young women like nowadays?"

"A sense of danger and adventure if Ivy is anything to go by. Anyway, maybe now would be a good time to practice on understanding young women," she said. "After all, you might have a daughter of your own one day." She had meant it to sound teasing, but it came out anything but. They stared at each other for a moment, the air thick with promise.

John broke it by smiling. "Well, I certainly hope that one day I will be utterly baffled by a row of girls."

"And one son so that you don't feel left out," she said, relieved that he hadn't asked her if she was trying to tell him something. She hated disappointing him every month, even if they had decided that they would quite like to have a year to themselves before welcoming anyone else to their family.

He pulled on his jacket, glancing at his watch. "We'd better get going if we don't want to miss the draw. You know what Mr. Carson's like about starting it on time."

She nodded. "All right. I'll be down in a moment. Get your coat on. I just need to pin my hair up."

He leant in to kiss her once, and she let him deepen it for a moment this time before shooing him out of the room with a loving smile. She tied her hair up in the no-nonsense bun, took a moment to smooth down the front of her dress, then joined her husband in the front hall. He helped her into her coat and she reached up to unhook his cane, handing it to him as he squashed his bowler hat down. It was these moments she loved the most, she thought dreamily as he helped her to fasten the front of her own coat, the quiet instants between moments of heated passion, where they fell into a routine that all husbands and wives might enjoy. She adored their lovemaking, of course, knowing that they were as close as two humans could ever hope to be, knowing that despite everything that had been thrown at them they were together, that she could have him in that state, but there was something even more beautiful about the sweet domesticity.

John grabbed hold of the door handle and pulled it open.

"After you," he said with a cheeky smile.

"Why thank you, kind sir," she replied, stepping out into the bone-aching cold, stamping her feet as she waited for him to lock the door behind him. He joined her in the next moment, offering her his arm, and she slipped her hand into the crook, stepping closer to his side to steal some of his warmth.

Their life couldn't get much better.

"Ah, Mr. Bates, Anna, there you are."

Mr. Carson's rumbling voice greeted them as soon as they stepped in the back door.

"Good morning, Mr. Carson," John greeted him as he peeled off his gloves. "We're not late, are we?"

"No. We'll be starting in a minute."

"We'll be right with you as soon as we've taken our coats off."

Mr. Carson nodded his approval, disappearing back into the servants' hall, where the chatter was loud.

John chuckled as he placed his hat and gloves on the top shelf, taking Anna's from her so that he could place hers beside his, knowing that she was just a little too small for comfortable stretching. "What did I tell you?"

"Eager as a beaver," she agreed. "Which I'm a bit surprised about. I would've thought this was a rather undignified tradition."

"Mrs. Hughes probably forces him to enjoy it," said John with a twinkle in his eyes. "Now come on. Let's not test his patience."

Anna followed her husband into the servants' hall. Their places had already been filled with a couple of hall boys for the unofficial meeting before breakfast. John stood on Mr. Carson's left. The butler sat with an air of imperiousness, the hat filled with names in front of him on the table. He raised his hand in a gesture of asking for silence, and the chatter eventually lulled. Anna was secretly amused; he reminded her of a king holding court. Still, she stifled her giggles and stepped closer to her husband so that his arm brushed against hers.

"Thank you," said Mr. Carson. "Now, for those of you who have not experienced this particular Downton tradition before, I'll outline what is expected. Each of us will pull a name out of this hat, and then a present for the named will be purchased for them. The present is expected to be given on Christmas Day morning before breakfast. Is that clear?"

"What happens if we pick out someone who we don't even know?" Jimmy wanted to know, looking unimpressed by the whole thing.

"Then I expect a present to be bought all the same," said Mr. Carson. It wouldn't be too much of a strain to talk to the recipient, would it, James?"

Jimmy fell silent at that, but he didn't look happy at all. Everyone else ignored him as Mr. Carson shook the hat.

"Now," he said. "Mr. Bates, would you like to do the honours of drawing the first name?"

John nodded, reaching out towards the hat. Anna held her breath as his long, dextrous fingers grasped one of the sheets. He withdrew. Anna started to reach her own hand out towards it, but Mr. Carson promptly pulled it back towards him, taking one for himself and then passing it to his right. John chuckled lowly at the look on her face.

"Cheer up," he said. "You'll get your turn."

She pouted. "I'm going to be left with the last name."

"You never know, you might get someone good."

"Or I might not. If I end up with Thomas or Miss O'Brien through no choice of my own…"

He chuckled again. "You'll buy them a nice gift because you are kind-hearted, and that's the only outcome of it."

She rolled her eyes, then nudged him. "Are you going to open your paper, then?"

"Patient as ever," he joked, then glanced around. Everyone else was opening theirs, so he started to do the same, teasing her by lifting it higher where she couldn't read it too. She pouted as his grin widened, and then he folded the paper back into a neat square, tucking it into the pocket with his watch. She blinked at him.

"Aren't you going to share?"

"Hmm?" He looked absent-minded for a moment. "Oh, yes, of course." He lowered his voice further. "It's Madge."

"And you're that happy about it? Have I got something to worry about?"

He grazed his hand discreetly against the small of her back. "Well, now that you mention it, I've found myself increasingly infatuated with Mrs. Patmore's cooking."

She stifled her giggles. "Don't go there, thank you."

His touch on her back became a little more concrete as they watched the hat make its way back up the other side of the table. There were only a few people in front of her now, and the hat was handed to her by one of the younger housemaids. One tiny bit of paper sat there, looking very lonely. She swept it up. John's eyes were inquisitive on her as she opened it.

Her heart stopped and then kicked back into life, a caged rabbit banging. Her fingers trembled a little as the surprise overwhelmed her.

Two words, written in one of the hall boys' scruffy scrawl.

Mr. Bates.

Her wish, after all these years, had finally come true. She had picked her husband's name out of the hat.

"Who have you got, then?"

She turned to find John staring at her curiously, probably a little wrong-footed by her reaction. She cleared her face as best she could.

"Just one of the gardeners," she said. "Harry. The young lad over there."

John glanced suspiciously in his direction, but said nothing.

"And that's that," said Mr. Carson, interrupting whatever might have followed. "Thank you, everyone. You have until Christmas Day morning to make sure that you buy and wrap your gift. Now, Daisy, Ivy, can you get the table set for breakfast?"

At the obvious end of the meeting, the outside staff and hall boys began to drift away. Anna tucked her piece of paper into the pocket on her dress.

She had some thinking to do now.

The day passed quickly enough, and soon Anna and John were unlocking the door to their cottage again. John lit the oil lamp while Anna moved into the kitchen to prepare tea and biscuits as a treat, placing them all on a tray and carrying them back into the parlour. John was already sitting on the sofa, his bad leg stretched out on the stool in front of him. It always bothered him more in cold weather. She suspected it was only going to get much worse.

"Here we go," she said softly.

He sat himself up a little, reaching out to take the cup that she offered him. "Thank you."

She set the tray on the table by her side, then snuggled herself in next to him. They passed the time idly, sometimes talking in low voices, other times not talking at all, simply relishing the feeling of being curled up together on their very own sofa.

At last John pressed a kiss against her hairline. "Shall we head upstairs?"

Anna nodded, stifling a yawn. "I think that's a good idea. Today has been rather hectic."

She wriggled off the sofa and moved to douse the lamp while John struggled to his feet with a huff. Together, they climbed the staircase, falling into their comfortable nightly routine. John heated the water and poured it into the basin while Anna fetched the towels and cloths, and they took it in turns to wipe themselves down. They threw on their nightclothes and Anna braided her hair while John emptied the water. She smiled a little at the domesticity of it all. At one time, she had thought that they would never have this. It was incredible that they could share such peace every day of their lives.

When John returned, running a hand through his hair to loosen the pomade, she grinned wider. Despite the cold winter, he still had the first couple of buttons open on his nightshirt, as was customary. Chest hair peeked over the top, and her insides fluttered. But she tempered it down, smoothing her fingers down the front of her gown.

"Aren't you going to warm the bed up?" she teased. "I can't get in until the sheets are toasty."

"That's all you really wanted me for, isn't it?" he griped, his eyes twinkling. "Your personal bed warmer." But he peeled the sheets back all the same, slipping between them and shifting onto his back. Anna knew that his knee was bothering him more then; usually, when his knee wasn't a discomfort, he would sleep on his left side, curling over her. He slept on his back when his knee was grating because it meant that he could flex it to stop it from seizing up without disturbing her slumber.

She pottered around for a few more minutes, replacing her hair pins on her dresser and blowing out the candles before hopping over the cold floorboards and slipping into bed beside him. She shivered as the cold seeped into her bones, but she looped her arm around his waist and snuggled her head into his neck, letting out a contented sigh.

"That's much better," she said.

"For you, maybe. Your feet are like blocks of ice."

She giggled, sliding one over his and delighting in the shudder that ran through him. "Hush, you."

His arm came up around her shoulder, holding her closer. "Isn't the wife supposed to be the quiet one?"

"I told you earlier: not in this marriage. Now have I got to shut you up myself?"

"I don't know," he said, tilting his chin down so that he was looking at her. "Why don't you try it?"

She shifted, raising herself up over him. She let her eyes rove over his face for a moment before lowering her mouth to his. They savoured the slow movement against each other for a few minutes before Anna slipped her tongue out, teasing at the seam of his lips. John grunted in the back of his throat, opening up for her to slip inside. Her palm cupped his cheek, drawing him closer, losing herself in him.

When they finally broke apart, panting softly, Anna brushed the stray strands of hair back from her husband's forehead, moving to press a kiss there before settling back into his embrace. Her fingers idly traced patterns against his covered stomach, teasing just slightly between the buttons. For a few minutes silenced reigned. She thought that perhaps he had drifted off to sleep, for his breathing had evened, but his voice issued through the darkness, startling the quiet.

"So," he said. "Harry the garden boy?"

"Madge?" she countered.

He huffed. "I've told you. There was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary about my expression."

"You weren't looking at it," she joked. "But I don't mind too much. As long as you always remember who it is you're married to."

"And I'm not going to forget that in a hurry," he growled, moving to kiss her again. She thought it might have been the end of the matter, but he trailed his fingertips up her sensitive sides.

"Harry?" he repeated. "If I was looking rather too pleased about Madge, then you were practically giddy at the prospect of buying him a gift."

"Are you jealous?" she said, arching lazily into his touch.

"Yes," he replied without preamble. "I thought I was supposed to be the only one in your affections."

"There's nothing to worry about," she teased him in response. "I'm not about to go running off with him. Although he does have beautiful curly hair…"

She squealed as John rolled on top of her, pressing his delicious weight into her.

"Really?" he said. "Nicer hair than mine?"

There was nothing nicer than John's hair than when it was free of pomade, falling boyishly every which way. She ran her hands through it now, sifting through the thick locks. "It might be. It's charming to see a man with hair as unruly as that."

Then it's my job to make you forget all about it."

His lips descended on that sweet spot on her neck, sucking just slightly. Anna sighed, arched her back, and fell into the sensations.

And he really did do his job at making her forget marvellously well.

The next few days were hectic, and Anna barely had a moment to herself between the preparations for Christmas and Lady Mary's demands. Not that she would ever complain; seeing the house come to life with the festivities made her mood soar. Seeing John smiling was the sweetest prize of all.

At long last, their half-day came around. Anna finished her chores gladly, then slipped into her coat and hat before going in search of her husband. She found him in the boot room, scrubbing at a pair of his lordship's shoes.

"Are you finishing up?" she said. "We shouldn't waste our precious time off."

He chuckled, patting down his hair and moving to untie his apron. "I suppose you're right."

She waited while he hung it up and limped towards her, grabbing his cane from the edge of the table where it was hooked. Her heart fluttered a little at seeing him in nothing but his shirt sleeves, but she clamped it down, averting her gaze. They had things to do this afternoon.

"Shall we start our own decorations today?" she asked as he slipped into his coat. "I think we should at least start trimming up the tree."

"Oh."

John's answer was less-than-enthusiastic, and she tilted her head. She thought he would have enjoyed that. "Is something wrong?"

He sighed, tapping his cane against his leg. "Well, I had planned on going into Ripon this afternoon."

"Well, it's not essential to get them done today," she said. "Perhaps we can do them in bursts over the next few days."

"Why don't you start and I'll join you later on?" he said.

Her face fell. "Don't you want me to come with you?"

"It's not that. God, of course not. You know there's nothing on earth I enjoy more than spending time with you."

"Then what?" She winced at how hurt she sounded. She didn't want to make him feel terrible.

"I planned to look for the secret gift today, is all," he said.

"And you don't want me to come with you because of that? What are you thinking of buying for Madge that you don't want me to see!?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary, I promise."

"So why can't I come?"

"Because I need to finish off my gifts for you too. I can't very well have you there when I'm trying to choose something."

She sighed. How could she argue with it? He was right. If he needed to finish off his shopping for her, then she couldn't very well go too.

"All right then. I suppose I'll see you later."

He risked moving closer to press a chaste kiss against her mouth. "I won't be too long, I promise. I'll try and give you a hand with the decorations later."

She nodded, patting his shoulder. "I'll save the tree for us to do together."

"Sounds perfect."

They walked to the back door together and out of the perimeter of Downton, but soon Anna had to turn in the direction of the cottages and John continued on towards the village to catch the bus. She watched him go for a moment, biting at her lip. Then, shaking her head at her own silliness, she made her way back home.

She heard the door open late on in the afternoon.

"Stay in there!" he called, and she smiled. She heard him creaking about upstairs before he returned, leaning against the doorframe as he took in the sight of their parlour. She hadn't got very far yet, just sprinkled holly over their fireplace, and set some pretty candles amongst them. There were cheeky sprigs of mistletoe in every doorway. The tree was in the corner, waiting to be decorated.

"Very nice," he said.

Anna dusted her hands off, moving towards him. "Did you get everything you needed?"

John's smile was secretive. "I certainly did."

"And what did you pick up for your Madge?"

"Just some nice candles."

"Did you now?" she raised an eyebrow and he offered her an innocent look which didn't entirely convince her. But she decided not to press. "Well, never mind that. Come and help me with the tree decorations before we have to go back to work."

"All right," he said, but his arms snaked out and caught her around the waist. "But don't think I haven't noticed what we're standing under, Mrs. Bates. And that requires giving your old husband a kiss."

She was happy to oblige.

"Ah, there you are, Anna."

Lady Mary was sitting up in bed, reclined there rather leisurely. Mr. Matthew had just left her room, wearing a rather pleased grin. Anna was glad that her mistress had taken the time to replace her nightgown.

"Is there something else you need, milady?" she asked as she placed the breakfast tray over her knees and made her way towards the curtains to throw them open.

"No, not like that. But I've decided to take a trip down London for a couple of days to look for a gift for Mr. Matthew. I'll be staying with Lady Rosamund, but I'll need you too."

Anna's heart sank a little at the thought of leaving John alone in the cottage even if it wasn't for long, but she knew that first and foremost she was a servant in Lady Mary's eyes. "Of course, milady. When would you want to go?"

"Tomorrow morning, I think. Will you be able to get the packing done?"

"Yes. If it's only for a couple of days we won't need much. I'll start as soon as the morning chores are over, and I'll head back to the cottage this afternoon to pack for myself, if that's all right."

"Very good. Well, I'll ring you when I'm done with breakfast."

"Yes, milady."

She bobbed her head and collected the dirty laundry to be taken back downstairs. Her heart was still somewhere in the region of her stomach. She and John hadn't been apart since his release from prison. She should be surprised and thankful that they hadn't had to spend any time apart before now, really, but she still couldn't help but feel despondent at the new development. Perhaps she would always hold a nugget of fear at the idea of being separated from him.

In the laundry room, she found John. She tried for a smile, but it couldn't have been very convincing, for he limped over to her at once, glancing both ways to make sure they were alone before taking her hand. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said, even as her voice wavered, just like her smile.

"It's clearly something. Has someone upset you?"

"No, of course not. I'm being silly."

"You could never be silly," he told her firmly, squeezing her hand. "Now, let's hear what's bothering you."

"I told you, it's nothing. Lady Mary is going to London for a couple of days, that's all."

John's own face fell at that. "Oh, I see."

She managed a short laugh. "Look at the two of us. A right pair of silly beggars. We've been through worse than a couple of days apart."

"I know," he said. "But I'll miss you."

She glowed at hearing that, boldly moving to kiss his cheek, lingering just a little.

"But you should go and enjoy yourself," he continued. "London at this time of year. It must be quite magical."

"I will," she promised. "I'll go home later and pack so that we can spend all evening together."

She left him with a final squeeze of his hand, making her way towards the servants' hall. His words had sparked an idea within her. London at Christmas. She hadn't yet had the opportunity to go searching for a gift for the servants' exchange herself. London was more expensive and lucrative, but there were plenty of working class people there. She was sure she could find something meaningful but inexpensive.

Her spirits brightened just slightly. John was right. It would be quite magical indeed.

The evening passed too quickly for Anna's liking. John had shocked her by taking her out to dinner at the Grantham Arms, which she half-heartedly scolded him for so close to Christmas but enjoyed immensely. Once they had returned to Downton to dress their employers for bed, they made their way back home, drinking tea and eating biscuits as they curled up together on the sofa. When the hour grew late, they stretched out lazy limbs and made their way to bed, slipping into their nightclothes. As was customary, John slid into bed first and Anna followed soon after, and he curled up against her back, his hand spanning her stomach.

"I really will miss you," he said against her ear. "I won't like coming home to the bed alone."

Her wedding night had been a revelation; the following morning, she had found herself wondering how she had ever slept without John's solid form beside her. During his imprisonment sleep had been fitful. She was sure that it would be again for the next two days. "Neither will I. But I hope it will be over quickly."

"I'm sure it will," he said. "And I'm sure Mr. Carson would be all too glad to give me a bit of extra work to take my mind off your absence."

"As long as you don't go running to Madge for comfort," she teased, wriggling more firmly into his embrace. He kissed her hair.

"It never crossed my mind, love," he said.

The gravel crunched beneath her feet as she made her way towards the front of the abbey with her little valise clasped in both hands. John followed closely behind her, Mr. Carson relenting and allowing him there to say goodbye to his wife.

Lady Mary was already there with the butler, while Alfred loaded her case onto the back of the motor.

John opened the front door of the car for Anna so that she could plant her valise on the floor, and she turned towards him with a half-hearted smile.

"I'll see you soon," she said.

"Of course you will," he replied. "Have a good time. I'll still be here when you get back."

Lady Mary slipped into the back seat. "Anna, are you ready?"

"Yes, milady," she returned. "Goodbye, Mr. Bates."

"Goodbye, Mrs. Bates," he said, his eyes burning into hers. She knew how much he wanted to kiss her. But they had said a more private goodbye earlier, twined in the sheets of their bed, and Anna knew that the memory of his tenderness would have to carry her through the next days. Instead, she reached out to squeeze his hand, letting go reluctantly and climbing into the back seat. John closed the door behind her, and they stared at each other through the glass until the car started to move off. Only then did she turn back around, meeting Lady Mary's amused gaze.

"Goodness me," she said. "You're even worse than Mr. Matthew and I."

But she meant it affectionately, and Anna smiled.

John had been right: London was certainly magical at this time of year. Pretty Christmas decorations everywhere, masses of people winding through the streets, the smattering of slushy snow. It was so much livelier than quiet Yorkshire, and she could appreciate the hustle and bustle at a time like this. It made everything more exciting, somehow.

Lady Mary had set off for a more fashionable part of London, intent on finding the perfect gifts for her husband, leaving Anna to her own devices. She decided to head for a much more modest area, knowing that her wages wouldn't even buy her something small out here in the capital.

There were still plenty of shops and plenty of choice, and she enjoyed herself immensely, browsing them at her own pace. While John never complained when she wanted to go shopping, she knew that he didn't really enjoy it and only went along with it because it was what she wanted. She liked knowing that she could take as long as she truly wanted without always being conscious of what John might be thinking.

The first few shops offered her little in terms of inspiration, but she persevered, knowing that there had to be something out there that would do as a little gift. She picked up a few last minute gifts for her proper Christmas stack too, unable to resist.

And then she caught sight of it in the shop window, and her grin brightened. Her heart began to pound.

He'd had this before, a long time ago. It wasn't what she'd had in mind when she'd come out here, but everything fell into place for her. John would recognise it at once. He would appreciate it without a doubt.

It was perfect.

A/N: Final part coming soon.