A/N: Honeymoon fic? Another one? Don't mind if I do.

This entry is an answer to Batwings79's prompt/challenge, thank you onmyside/downtondownstairs for our talk yesterday morning. WARNING: unbetaed - if you see anything that needs adjusting, please PM me)

She leans against him as the train jostles them about. She is wearing her going away outfit and wishes vehemently she could take off her hat. If she could take off her hat and if she were bold enough, she could put her head against her husband's shoulder and maybe doze a bit until they'd reach Scarborough. She looks at him and she can see he is tired from the lines by his eyes and the way he rubs his forehead. She's not much better. She's not slept well.

She doubts any bride ever sleeps well. The night before your whole life changes - though perhaps hers won't change so much. They'll still work together, still have their own spaces. They'll no doubt still squabble and she doesn't think he'll suddenly have changed the way he takes his tea.

His hand lingers on the small of her back when he helps her onto the platform and she steals a glance at him. When he looks back, she blushes and smiles shily. The past few weeks he's been making her feel like a young girl, in love for the first time. Her heart speeds up when he gives her that look.

Her hand is tucked in the crook of his elbow and he carried their suitcase in his free hand. The hotel isn't far from the station. They walk slowly. It's a beautiful day - the sea air tickles her nose. She thinks about her bouquet and how Anna promised to keep it to dry and how Mrs Patmore said she would make sure she'd safe a piece of the wedding cake.

She thinks about how Charles kissed her for all the world to see.

And how she kissed him back.

The receptionist makes Charles sign the guestbook and he does it with a flourish:

Mr and Mrs Carson, Downton, Yorkshire

She glances up at him again and he gives her the smallest of smiles - his eyes twinkle and she can feel her heart speed up. He takes the key from the young woman and guides her up the stairs and to their room.

Their room.

He opened the door for her and put the suitcase down. She stifled a yawn and found that he too was trying to hide his fatigue.

His night had probably not been very restful either. Then there was the wedding breakfast and the dancing and the congratulations that seemed to come from a never-ending throng of well-wishers. Mr Branson's sudden arrival. Miss Sybbie giving hugs to Master George and Miss Marigold.

She watched Charles dance with Miss Sybbie and she's growing up fast too.

Now it is going on nine o'clock and all she really wants to do is take off her shoes (they're pinching) and her hat and have a proper sit-down for a few moments.

"Won't you come in?" he asks, his voice deep and rumbling as always.

"Of course I will," she says and smiles at him.

She is dazzled by the smile he returns and she steps into his embrace, pushing the door closed behind her with a determined kick of her heel.

They stand together like that for long, long minutes, just looking at each other and stealing kisses. His lips are soft against hers and she is certain her lip rouge has been kissed away completely by now. Her thumb brushes over her cheek and she presses her fingers against her mouth to hide the yawn she cannot hold back.

"You're tired," he assesses and she nods.

"So are you."

They let go of each other (reluctantly, she feels extraordinarily cold where he's just held her, his body so close to hers) and he helps her with her coat. She pulls the pin from her hair, unbuckles her shoes. Bit by bit she changes from bride back into Elsie.

She puts her shoes under the chair by the window and watches how Charles hangs up their coats and places his shoes under the hatstand. His hat is on the suitcase they've not brought further into the room nor opened. They both know what's in it.

Charles takes off his socks and she smiles - Mrs Patmore and she had cheekily wondered when he would take those off and now she knows. She stands there, watching him, her husband of half a day and she cannot remember a day she's been happier.

"What is it?" he asks and she shakes her head with a smile.

"Nothing."

She walks to the bed and turns it down with quick, efficient movements.

"What are you doing?"

He sounds as nervous as she is.

"I thought I'd get everything ready for tonight. I'll need some things from the suitcase. Would you like me to put your things under your pillow?"

It's a bold move. She doesn't know what he expects of her, nor does she know what to expect from him and the tension in the room has been growing ever since she's taken off her shoes.

She can't see much in the small mirror in the en-suite but she has a feeling she looks quite… indecent. Mrs Patmore packed for her and just now she fully expected to find her flannel nightgown, only to find a rather modern, thin, cotton one that leaves her rather exposed.

She runs her hands over her sides and hips. It's good to be out of her corset after this long day, but she worries. She worries what Charles will think when he sees her. He told her that he's sure of her, sure that she'll be everything he needs, but she doesn't know - she doesn't know anything about this sort of thing and she is so tired.

She looks at herself in the mirror. She is getting herself in a state. She puts her robe on - also new, also white. She ties the belt in a neat bow and slips from the bathroom.

Mr Carson - Charles - is already in bed. He is reading - Dickens, she thinks. He's got reading glasses now and she is a little surprised by it. She's not seen him wear them before. He looks up, puts his book on the nightstand and takes off his little spectacles, folds them and puts them on top of the book. He clears his throat and raises the blankets for her.

She takes a step towards the bed and slowly undoes the bow, her hands shaking.

She puts the robe over the edge of the bed and slips in between the covers. Charles looks at her, his eyes full of love. She wiggles down the mattress and lays her head down on the plump pillow. She lets go of a deep breath she's been holding for a long time.

Next to her is her husband and she tentatively stretches her leg a bit. Her foot runs down his pyjama-clad calf and he props himself up on his elbow.

"Hello," he says and reaches out for her. His hand cups her cheek.

"Hello." She runs the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip.

He leans in and kisses her softly. Once, twice.

"Why don't you snuggle up a little closer?" he asks and she moves. Slowly. Carefully. He puts his arm around her waist and nuzzles the top of her head.

"You smell nice," he says.

"Thank you." She closes her eyes for a moment and turns to her side. She finds she fits perfectly against him.

He is warm and the cotton of his pyjamas is worn and soft. His hand is on her belly, her back against his chest. His breathing is steady and even and she finds it hard to keep her eyes open.

"Charles?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you," she says and he pulls her infinitely closer and kisses her hair.

"I love you, too."

When she wakes the sun is struggling through the crack between the curtains and she's still in Charles's arms. She is on her back and Charles's hand in on her hip. The nightgown has ridden up to halfway her thigh and the left shoulder strap has fallen down to reveal a rather great expanse of freckled skin. She sighs. When she stretches, she can feel something against her leg and she worries her lip.

~tbc~