Here is my contribution to the Secret Santa fic. exchange, written for Darlingsybil.

Prompt: One-shot - Coffee shop AU modern where Sybil works at a café (her first job) and Tom is a regular customer

Specific: Sybil spilling coffee over Tom

To those who celebrate – Have a very Merry Christmas! To everyone - I wish you a Happy and Peaceful New Year!

One year earlier

Sybil glared defiantly at her father as he stood glowering in front of the fireplace. She would not conform to his vision of her future and now seemed as good a time as any to make her position firmly clear.

"I don't want the kind of life that Mary and Edith have chosen." she explained slowly, trying very hard to omit the quiver in her voice which was threatening to betray her instinctive anxiety. "I don't care about being part of the social scene in London, I don't want to be photographed in 'Hello' magazine on a frequent basis. I want to do something useful!"

"How dare you suggest that your sisters' employment is in some way redundant…" Her father's face was beginning to turn pink once again, a sure sign that he was becoming increasingly hostile to her plans. It also indicated that his blood pressure was rising and that in turn would worry her mother, who Sybil felt might possibly conspire with her after careful persuasion.

"Of course not, Daddy. They're both very good at what they do and they love the lifestyle each brings, but I just feel that I've got different talents and I want to use them." She took a deep breath and fleetingly clenched her fists in order to draw strength before continuing. "I want to nurse and the only way to do that is to get a nursing degree. I'm not asking you to financially support me. My plan is to take a year out and work to save some money, then get student loans to cover the rest. I'm serious about it – this is something that I've wanted to do for a long time and I'm not going to be persuaded otherwise. My UCAS forms have to be submitted next week and I'm putting down Brighton as my first choice."

"Brighton…" her father sputtered in dismay, turning away from her and raising his fist to his forehead.

"Yes. The course has a very good reputation and the graduate statistics speak for themselves. I realise it wouldn't be your preference, but it's the right choice for me and after all…I'll only be just over an hour away on the train from Mary and Edith."

The strategic decision to involve her sisters in her argument provided the persuasion she required. Although they had followed a more traditional path for daughters of an hereditary peer – Mary gained a first at St Andrews in History of Art and was rising through the ranks at Christies Auction House, Edith had a 2:1 from Oxford in Eng. Lit and was currently interning at a leading publishing firm – they were equally supportive of Sybil's desire for independence and had offered their backing in her inevitable domestic battle.

Two days later, her father offered a truce. "Prove to me that this isn't a passing fad." he said earnestly. "Go and spend the summer with your Grandmother in Vermont as planned, but then come back and learn what hard work entails. If you can save half of your first year's tuition fees – that's four and a half thousand pounds, I might add – by the end of the following summer, then I'll provide you with the remainder during your course and a living allowance too. Show me your commitment and you'll go with my blessing."

Sybil's heart leapt at his unexpected conciliation. Regardless of his conservative opinions and constraints, she loved her father deeply and understood that ultimately he wanted her to be happy and successful, even if he believed that the two were more likely to be achieved alongside society life and an advantageous marriage.

"Thank you, Daddy. I promise I won't let you down."

Present Day

Sybil offered a beaming smile at her first customer, while her Manager Janine stood solemnly in observation behind her.

"Skinny latte with an amaretto shot" said the tight lipped woman who stood before her, fiddling with the change in her purse, and Sybil cleared her throat with nerves as she turned to face the bewildering range of options displayed on the gleaming stainless steel coffee machine. Fingers working apprehensively, she listened to Janine's murmured prompt and heard the satisfying hiss of steaming water pour into the waiting cup.

"There you are!" Janine smiled encouragingly after payment had been taken and the customer had moved to a nearby table. "First one down, you're away now!" Sybil nodded with a grateful smile. It was late November and she had returned home from her extended visit to the US almost a month earlier. For a short while she had feared that her good intentions to work and save would be undermined by the shortage of local employment opportunities available. However, fortunately the approaching festive season had provided new openings and she had now committed to five days a week in an independent coffee shop in Ripon, in addition to a weekly shift as a volunteer at a residential care home on the outskirts of Downton. The Earl of Grantham could have no doubt as to his youngest daughter's pledge towards hard work, regardless of his disapproval at such a public setting.

"Here comes trouble!" announced Janine, her broad smile suggesting an opposing sentiment as she reached out to take a sheet of paper from the next customer. Broad shouldered, his fingers were darkly stained and as Sybil looked up to offer a polite smile, friendly blue eyes twinkled at her.

"Hello!" he said with a grin and she heard the hint of an accent more exotic than Yorkshire.

"This is Sybil, it's her first day." Janine explained, before adding in a nonchalant tone. "Rob not in today, then? No latte?"

"He's got this week off…" the customer replied with a smirk. "…but I'll tell him that you were asking."

Janine turned away and ran a hand roughly through her hair. "I was just checking that you hadn't missed one" she said hurriedly and the young man unexpectedly gave Sybil a conspiratorial wink.

She busied herself making two teas while her colleague took care of the remainder of the list and smiled again as the man leant casually against the counter with a folded twenty pound note held vertically between his fingers.

"I'm Tom…" he offered while she handed out his change. "I work at the garage round the corner in Broad Street, so I'm in most days." He slid the money back into the pocket of his trousers and grinned once again – an expression exuding confidence, but without any obvious hint of entwined arrogance in its manner.

"See you soon!" he called cheerfully after taking the cardboard tray from her grasp and striding towards the door.

His parting comment was fitting and Sybil swiftly came to include Tom in her mental list of regular customers. On some days his attendance was substituted by one of his colleagues and the re-appearance of Rob the following week was easily clarified by Janine's flustered manner and effusive gesturing. But Sybil always felt cheered by Tom's arrival and enjoyed the light-hearted nature of his banter and Irish brogue.

"So are you new to Ripon, Sybil or just to the café?" he asked a week or so later, while she was creating the statutory chocolate heart on the froth of his colleague's hot chocolate.

"Just to the job. I'm local." she replied, deliberately vague with her explanation. The address on her CV had given away her family background to Janine, but she had stressed her desire to keep it hidden from other members of staff as well as customers and had strictly forbidden her parents from coming in to see how she was getting on. Experience had already proved that a reveal of her official title and family's status often altered others' personal perception of her and she was determined to maintain relative anonymity to any fleeting acquatintances.

"Right, so do you go out with your mates in Ripon then?" he asked lightly, offering the first hint that his friendly chat might be more exclusive than she had first imagined.

"Well I actually live in Downton, not Ripon" she explained.

"Nice little village…" he replied "…I've only driven through it, but it looks very pretty."

Sybil rolled her eyes. "Yes, I suppose so."

"But boring? Rather limited social options?" he suggested and she laughed.

"Just a bit, yes. The Grantham Arms – that's it."

"But surely you hit the bright lights of Ripon now and again?"

"Um…" she hesitated while she considered the most appropriate answer. "…I didn't go to school round here, so my friends are dotted around all over the place…" Silently she willed him not to make further enquires about her education, reluctant to admit to having attended one of the country's most prestigious boarding schools. "…but when my sisters are home, then yes we go out here, or occasionally in York…"

Before Tom could open his mouth to enquire further, she swiftly turned the tables with her own line of questioning. "And what brought you to Yorkshire?"

"Work" he replied simply and shrugged his shoulders. "There's not much of it in Ireland at the moment, even though you'd think that people would always need their cars fixed. But I was made redundant from my last place and then a mate got a job as a chef at The Angel Hotel here, so I thought I'd tag along with him. And here I am. In work and with a roof over my head, so I can't complain."

"But you'd like to go back home eventually?" she asked

"One day. But I'm not in any hurry. It's good to see somewhere else for a while, don't you think? Or are you planning to spend the rest of your days in Yorkshire?"

"Oh no…" Sybil shook her head rapidly and told him about her university plans, omitting any mention of her parents' objection and the preferred career trajectory for their offspring.

"Oh that's grand!" Tom effused, nodding his head up and down. "Education provides you with freedom. Coffee shops and garages might pay the bills, but I'd like to think there's something more out there, wouldn't you?"

"Absolutely!" Sybil agreed and they exchanged a conspiratorial smile.

"I envy you…" Tom added "…I'd have liked to go to university, but circumstances meant that it wasn't possible. I've started an OU course though, so hopefully I'll get my degree eventually, but I'm sure I'd have enjoyed the whole uni experience."

"So why…" Sybil's curiosity was curtailed by Janine who hissed "Customers!" in her ear and brought the conversation to an abrupt stop.

"Sorry if I've got you into trouble" Tom said softly as he picked up his drinks and prepared to leave.

"Don't be" she replied earnestly with a heartfelt wish that they could continue their conversation. Now that she knew his ambitions lay further afield than his current profession, a niggling thought was bothering her. "So, do you hate your job?" she asked quickly, stepping backwards to provide Janine with the impression that she was eager to return to the queue of waiting customers.

Tom shook his head with a smile. "Nah, I like tinkering around with cars, it's fine. But I love to write even more, so hopefully one day…"

"A writer…" Sybil breathed softly, her impression of Tom having now shifted marginally on its axis. It wasn't a skill she had ever possessed with flair but she loved to read at any opportunity and was in awe of anyone who could write put words on paper with eloquence and passion.

Tom smiled and leant towards her with a mischievous smirk. "Mmmm...cars, writing...you see, I'm just generally very skilled with my fingers!" he whispered before walking swiftly away, leaving Sybil to face her customers pink-faced and exuding a general air of distraction which lasted most of the day.

ooOoo

The second week of December heralded the arrival of the café's Christmas tree, a broad Norwegian spruce ordered by the mostly absent proprietor and which seemed to cause Janine only anxiety and irritation.

"It's too wide and it'll drop needles everywhere. That's one more thing for us to do, honestly I don't see why they can't just have a fake one like everyone else! They're very realistic these days."

"Oh I love a real tree!" Sybil exclaimed with heartfelt passion. "It's the smell! You can't produce that in a factory. I'll sweep up the needles, Janine. Honestly, it's a small sacrifice, I don't mind."

"Be my guest!" her Manager sniffed. "In fact, do you want to decorate it too? I've already done mine at home, I can't be bothered to do another one. There's a couple of boxes of baubles and things in the staff room."

The café was usually quiet for the first half an hour of the day and Sybil approached her task with enthusiasm, sorting through the available decorations and deciding on a colour scheme. Dressing the thirty foot tree which dominated the hallway at home each Christmas was one of her favourite annual tasks, but with neither of her sisters expected back until Christmas Eve this year, it would be one she would perform alone with her mother, helped only by her father's long-term assistant, Mr Carson.

She was standing on a chair, draping the string of lights around the tree's upper branches when Tom made his entrance and they exchanged cheery greetings before he made his way to the counter. Stepping back down, she reached for the star to adorn the summit and satisfied that it was vertical and facing the room, returned to the ground and moved backwards to assess the overall view. Her satisfied reverie was interrupted by a collision of flesh, immediately followed by a loud yell of anguish and she spun around to see Tom hopping from one foot to another, pulling at the front of his shirt with his fingers. He swiftly set his cardboard coffee cup down on a nearby table and began to shake his right hand wildly. "Ow, ow, ow…feck….Jaysus…." he muttered and Sybil clasped a hand to her mouth in horror.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" she gasped. "I didn't realise you were there!"

"It's fine…." Tom muttered, his body language indicating that the situation was anything but and she spotted the dark stain now spanning his torso.

"Let me get you a cloth." Sybil said, running towards the counter. Her hands were shaking with shock and anxiety and neither were helped by Janine's grave expression of concern.

"I hope he's not going to sue us" she muttered, reaching for the first aid kit and peering inside.

"I know what to do." Sybil said quietly, running a cloth under cool water. She took the kit from her Manager's grasp and returned to Tom, who was now sitting on a chair, the top of his shirt unbuttoned, peering with concern down at his chest.

"Are you OK?" she asked and was relieved to see him flash a smile in her direction.

"I think I'll live." he replied.

"You need to put a cool cloth on the burn."

"I don't think it's really burned, don't worry…"

"Please…" she insisted, holding it out towards him. "Just in case."

With a tip of his head, he took the cloth from her hands and wrapped it around his right hand. "My chest's fine, you'll be glad to hear." he explained. "Not sure about my shirt, however…"

"I'll pay for the dry-cleaning" she replied instinctively and was taken aback by his immediate expression of amusement.

"Dry-cleaning? It's from Primark, I think it was about six quid!"

"Well I'll replace it…"

He gave a light laugh. "Don't worry, Sybil! I'm not bothered about it. It's a work shirt to go under my overalls, that's all."

"Are you going to sue?" she asked, unable to prevent a sharp gasp of anxiety escaping her lips and his expression immediately softened.

"Of course I'm not. I was an eejit to be standing behind you in the first place. I was admiring your tree decorating skills, but it was a stupid thing to be doing – right behind you like that while holding a boiling hot drink."

"I shouldn't have walked backwards without looking…"

"Sybil…" he placed a hand gently on her arm. "I'm fine. I promise not to litigate and take you all down!"

"It's not just that…" she declared, not wanting him to believe that her main priority was corporate liability. "I'm worried that your hand is going to be painful and you won't be able to work."

Tom lifted his arm and carefully unwrapped the cloth before flexing his fingers several times.

"Seems to be OK" he said, his eyes flashing with amusement. "However…"

Sybil's face was once again etched with concern as she watched him lower a finger and point in the direction of his jeans, the zip and surrounding area darkened with split coffee. "I just hope that everything down there is in full working order after its scalding, that's all."

She cleared her throat with embarrassment, knowing that he was teasing her but unable to find a suitable retort with which to bring the conversation to an end. "Yes well…"

"I'll let you know, shall I? Give you a progress report?"

"Well I'd take yourself off to A&E if it's not, if I were you."

"But you're going to be a nurse, aren't you? You seem to know how to treat burns."

"I'm not fully trained" she said firmly and her eyes suddenly twinkled. "So I'd hate to cause you any permanent damage through my well meant inexperience."

"Touché!" he muttered with a smile and each laughed, satisfied that no harm had been done and their friendship had returned to an even keel.

ooOoo

Sybil couldn't help but notice that Tom appeared to seek her out whenever he entered the café. If she was away from the counter, clearing tables, he would wander over for a brief chat in a way he never did with Janine and if she was serving, he would often hang back at the end of the queue so their discussions were longer than she had with any other customer. She found herself looking out for him during the first hour of each day and was conscious of her heart leaping whenever he made his entrance. His unexpected arrival for a second time the following Tuesday caused a spontaneous grin to develop across her face so rapidly, that he could have had no doubt at the delight it caused and a subsequent blush gave further evidence of her developing interest.

"It's been a hell of a day!" he exclaimed wearily, as he leant theatrically against the counter and pretended to mop his brow. "I need another proper coffee to get me through the last couple of hours."

"Oh dear, what's happened?" she asked, beginning the preparations for his Americano without request.

"Oh it's just manic, everyone wants their car serviced before they go away for Christmas and Ted's off ill so we're all working late to try and cover."

"Are you going home for Christmas?" she asked lightly while she opened the cash register and held out her hand for payment.

"We're convening at my brother's in Liverpool this year. He's got kids so it's easier all round, really. My Mam and younger sister are coming over from Dublin and I'll meet them there on Christmas Eve. I've got no extra time off this year – last in so I have to be back working on 27th. And you?"

Sybil nodded. "I've only got the two days off as well. But my sisters will be home on Christmas Eve, so it'll be lovely. We'll just be at home." Once again, she avoided the provision of additional details and not for the first time in her life, wondered how you could casually slip your aristocratic roots into a conversation whilst simultaneously emphasising that they provided neither relevance nor importance.

Instead it was Tom who furthered the conversation, rubbing the back of his neck as he picked up his coffee and she watched him raise a fist to his mouth before lightly clearing his throat.

"I'm going out in Downton on Saturday night, actually" he said lightly, before offering a sudden smile. "The bright lights and wild nightlife beckon!"

"Oh, how come?" Sybil asked, her heart beginning to beat at twice its normal rate.

"One of my housemates has a friend who lives there and is organising a bit of a gathering in the pub. I don't really know him, but there'll be a few there who I do. This friend works up at the big Abbey there, but he lives in the village. You might know him – Jimmy Kent?"

Sybil silently nodded, avoiding a betrayal of the dismay she suddenly felt. Jimmy was employed by her parents and doubled up as an assistant to Mr Carson and footman on formal occasions.

"Anyway…" Tom continued, holding her gaze. "You'd be welcome to come along if you fancied it? It's not just guys, there'll be plenty of girls there too. You know, just a pre-Christmas get-together." His tone remained light, but he was watching her reaction nonetheless and Sybil felt her spirits sink at her unavoidable response. Jimmy was always friendly and respectful to her, but even if she was to now confess her position, she didn't believe that he would welcome the presence of his employer's daughter during a rare Saturday evening off.

"I can't on Saturday, unfortunately" she replied slowly and watched a flash of disappointment cross Tom's face before it was immediately restored by a friendly nod.

"Ah well, never mind."

"I'm already doing something you see."

"Okay, well I just thought I'd ask."

"Thank you."

Tom flashed a smile. "Anyway, back to the grindstone!" he joked and began to turn away.

"Tom…"

As she called out his name, she wasn't certain exactly what she wanted to say, only that she didn't want him to believe that she had entirely spurned his offer, nor its entwined potential.

"I would like to…" she said hesitantly. "I mean, if I wasn't already committed to something that evening. If there was another time…"

They held one another's gaze for a few seconds - mutual comprehension interwoven with an awkward exchange of shy smiles.

"We can sort something out, Sybil."

ooOoo

Tom wasn't forthcoming with many details of his night out in Downton, declaring only that it was "a nice pub" and that the evening had been "a good laugh". Sybil had been tempted to casually ask Jimmy about it when he covered breakfast for Mr Carson the following Monday morning. However, she knew that any enquiries would swiftly make their way back to Tom's household and felt that any explanation about her family should stem from her alone.

The final week prior to Christmas was hectic in the coffee shop and there was little opportunity to exchange more than polite and friendly greetings with any customer. The daily queue of beleaguered shoppers and over excited children meant that Sybil's shifts were filled with activity from start until finish and she and Tom did little more than raise their hands in greeting, or trade fleeting comments with one another.

A hiatus occurred on Christmas Eve – shoppers rushing along the pavement appeared too filled with panic to pause and workers were omitting a morning break to ensure their early finish. Sybil wondered whether Tom would have time to call in before he left for Liverpool and as mid-morning came and passed, felt regretful that she would not have an opportunity to wish him a Happy Christmas. However, ashe emerged from a visit to the toilet at midday, Janine met her eyes and gave a sly smile.

"Customer, Sybil. Somehow, I don't think he's looking for me to serve him!"

"Hi" Sybil said shyly, taking in the vivid colour of his eyes and broad shoulders as if seeing him once again for the first time.

"You okay?" he asked with a slow smile. "I just wanted to say Happy Christmas. Oh and have a coffee too if you don't mind? You're not closing up yet, then?"

"No, two o'clock officially. And you?"

"When we're done" he replied and rolled his eyes to indicate that the instruction provided no firm clarity.

Janine subtly moved to the back room while Sybil prepared his Americano and Tom leant forward, his arms crossed on the counter.

"And will the big man in red be visiting tonight, do you think? Have you been a good girl?"

Sybil grinned and stuck out her lower lip, a gesture she hoped gave a balanced impression of humour and flirtation. "Very good indeed!"

"Pleased to hear it" he replied, giving a low throaty laugh and Sybil felt her stomach perform an unusual movement of acrobatic ability.

He cleared his throat. "So do you want to get together some time after Christmas? Go for a drink or to the cinema or something?"

"Yes, I would – thank you" she replied, her smile betraying both relief and elation.

"Grand, well I'll see you back in here in a few days and we'll sort something out." Coffee and payment were exchanged and they stood facing one another from either side of the counter, curious gazes interlaced with a heady sense of anticipation.

"Right, well I'll say Happy Christmas then…" he said cautiously and Sybil felt a mild sense of dismay when the arrival of an incoming customer terminated any tentative prospect of a festive kiss.

"Have a lovely time with your family" she said in earnest and Tom nodded, glancing ruefully at the man now standing at his side who was perusing the coffee options written on the blackboard.

"You too, Sybil. See you soon."

ooOoo

At the conclusion of her shift, Sybil had half an hour to kill before the departure of her bus to Downton and took a leisurely stroll over to the town's market – a small selection of functional stalls selling clothes, toys and toiletries, interspersed with those offering seasonal wares. Traders were beginning to glance at their watches, trying to gauge the likelihood of further business before potential customers either set out on the road or returned home for their final festive preparations.

In the process of crossing the road, she spotted Tom standing by one of the stalls and struggling to contain her delight, skipped over to tap him on the shoulder.

"Why aren't you on your way to Liverpool?" she asked brightly and was rewarded by his beaming smile of recognition.

"I've only just finished work. I just thought I'd see if I can buy something else for my brother, seeing as he's hosting us all. I've got him a bottle of whiskey but I was wondering about a novelty present – what do you think?" Reaching out, he lifted up a pair of glittery antlers set into a hair band and placed them on his head with a grin.

"Do they look good? Do you think they'll suit him?"

Sybil laughed. "Well I don't know what your brother looks like!"

Tom gave a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. "Ah, about my height. Few years older, moustache, not as good looking obviously, a distinguished air combined with a filthy sense of humour."

Sybil put a hand on her hip and gave a solemn nod. "Well, in that case, I think it would be absolutely perfect!"

"Grand, I'll get them then. What about your family? I know you haven't got any brothers, but don't you think you should get this stylish look for your Dad?"

With a sardonic guffaw, Sybil covered her mouth with her hand. "I don't think it's really his kind of thing to be honest."

Tom tipped his head to one side with raised eyebrows. "No sense of humour?"

She was swift to contradict, before coming to an abrupt halt. "No, he's got a very good sense of humour actually, but he's…." Suddenly she laughed. "Well, why not! It would do him good to get out of his Christmas comfort zone. I'll buy some too!"

Handing over her change, she lifted her chosen item to her head and they stood facing one another, each adorned with sparkling antlers, which swayed gently in the light wind.

Without warning, she emitted a loud snort. "He'll absolutely hate it!" she declared and with the image of the Earl of Grantham festooned in such a manner fixed firmly in her head, was unable to contain her mirth. As the image of hilarity escalated in her mind, tears began to emerge and she found herself unable to speak, powerless to explain why the idea was so unfathomable. Yet her amusement was contagious and Tom soon joined in, the two of them snorting and giggling like children, exchanging silent comprehension at their mutual sense of humour and compatibility.

"Oh my goodness…" she finally spluttered, wiping her eyes and giving a final giggle. "I've got to go and catch my bus."

"I could give you a lift home if you like?" he offered and while it was tempting, Sybil remembered her earlier pledge to Mary and Edith.

"My sisters are meeting me off the bus and we're going to call in on a friend in the village before going home. They'll be disappointed if the plan isn't followed."

He nodded with a smile and with it gave a hint of appreciation at her allegiance to her siblings.

"Well I'll just walk you to the bus stop anyway."

"There's no need, it's only just over there…" her explanation came to an end as he gently guided her by the arm out of the market and stopped abruptly by the final stall.

"Just a second" he said softly and Sybil glanced at the now sparse selection of Christmas wreaths on offer.

"Oh we've already got a wreath for the door" she explained before following the path of Tom's line of vision up to the stall's canopy from which a single sprig of mistletoe was hanging. "Oh…"

With a confident smile, he leant forward and she stretched her neck to meet him, their lips softly colliding. Warm breath combined with cold winter air made Sybil feel momentarily light-headed and she swayed marginally, any further progress curtailed by one of Tom's arms curling slowly around her waist. With a sense of heady anticipation, she ran her hand up his arm and began to cup it behind his neck when she heard the loud hiss of engine brakes nearby and the unwelcome signal of her bus' arrival.

"I've got to go" she explained breathlessly and he smiled at her, his gaze unremitting.

Daringly, she darted forward to snatch a final brief kiss and felt an overpowering sense of happiness as he fleetingly grasped her hand.

"Happy Christmas!" she whispered, taking her first step away from him and raising an arm towards the bus driver to signify her intention to board.

"Happy Christmas…" he replied before offering a mischievous grin. "…Lady Sybil."

Sybil opened her mouth in astonishment, but he simply smiled and with an amused wink, turned on his heel and walked swiftly away.

THE END