Prompt: MM, tease, dinner, champagne. I hope you enjoy!

I do not own Downton Abbey, but I love writing about it so very much. :) Thoughts and reviews always appreciated.

"Celebrating something?"

She throws him a glance over her shoulder, and he motions towards the bottle of champagne in her hands.

"Yes," she answers smoothly, tossing him a coy grin. "My divorce."

The woman in front of her sniffs audibly, shaking her head in silent disapproval before the bell sounds and the lift doors open, allowing the lady to exit and leaving her and Mr. Blue Eyes completely alone.

"Are you planning on drinking all of that by yourself?"

She turns towards him just so, licking her lips as she looks him over. No ring, she notes to herself. Of course, they slide off as easily they go on, and fit quite comfortably in men's wallets, as do other items wives are not supposed to find.

"It's safer that way," she muses, the lift's second stop jostling them closer together.

"Perhaps," he muses. "But certainly not as much fun." His gaze falls quietly before those eyes capture hers once again. "I've been there. My divorce was final just over a year ago."

"Ah," she breathes, knowing he could be lying to her but somehow sensing he isn't.

She doesn't speak as the doors open, and she steps off into the carpeted hallway, not really surprised to see that he had done so, as well.

"Are you staying on this floor?" she asks as they stand facing opposite directions.

"Yes," he replies with a smile. "Room 709."

She laughs then, biting her lower lip as she looks back at him.

"I'm in 711," she volunteers. "Just across the hall."

"How convenient," he returns, his eyes turning a shade more suggestive. "May I suggest you not drink all of that on an empty stomach? I made that mistake once."

"That sounds like regret," she tosses back softly.

"Most assuredly," he grins, and she wonders if he is blushing as he falls in step beside her.

"I thought I might order room service," she offers. "So convenient when savory treats are delivered right to your door."

"Isn't it, though?" he hums, stopping just outside their rooms. "I was thinking of ordering room service, myself."

"Were you? What a coincidence."

"You know what they say about great minds," he muses, making no move to search for his key card.

"So what are you thinking?" she asks, enjoying how quickly his eyebrows move into his hairline. "Just to prove your theory about great minds."

He steps into her space, stroking the neck of the champagne bottle.

"I'm thinking that's good champagne," he replies with a shrug. "And it would be a shame for any of it to go to waste."

"How considerate of you," she returns, sidling up a bit closer.

"I'm the considerate type," he returns slyly, the texture of his voice rubbing her like warm leather. "In fact, I thought perhaps we could both be considerate and save room service a trip by placing an order together. Saves them time and energy, you know."

She nods, grinning in spite of herself.

"That is considerate," she hums. "But I somehow suspect ulterior motives."

The right corner of his mouth draws up.

"And I suspect you're a terrible tease," he challenges, her eyes flashing at his challenge.

"You're the one who has invited yourself over for dinner," she observes, nudging a lock of hair out of his face.

"And you're the one keeping us out in this hallway," he whispers, making her shiver from the neck down.

"You're rather forward, aren't you?" she questions as her skin begins to heat.

"There's always a first time for everything, I suppose," he admits, and there is no question now that he is blushing.

"So what do you want for dinner?" she questions, backing into her door as he follows in step.

"Well, I suppose we could start with conversation and an appetizer and go from there."

He is close now, close enough for his scent to tickle her pores and his proximity to render her unsteady.

"So you're in the mood for several courses," she manages, uncertain of what is pushing her into this half-crazed boldness.

"Well, we do have an entire bottle of champagne," he returns, stroking the bottle's neck, his eyes fixed on her. "I think it's better to enjoy it slowly. Don't you?"

His lips touch down then, soft with unanswered questions, warm with spicy hints of abandon.

"As long as you don't pop the cork prematurely," she grins as their mouths separate, pushing her door open as he follows her inside.