I'll be honest. School and the end of Season 5 took the fic-writing sails out of me. I have several stories (or one long epic, possibly) to write. But I get writer's block when I dwell on them for too long. So here's a different approach from me: smaller chapters, smaller stories.

For inspirational artwork, see the link for this fic on my Tumblr page.

Season 5 Christmas Special spoilers are ahead. Lastly, please see the legal disclaimer on my author page.

Charles Carson was fussing away at his attire. He had changed quickly and returned downstairs to complete the final touches in his pantry. It was the evening of the Servant's Ball – the one night a year when his attire was wholly different from all other evenings. Dark trousers he rarely wore had been unearthed from his wardrobe a few days ago, blessedly aired out by that afternoon. His gray tie had been located, along with his coveted tie pin. It was a gift bequeathed to him by the family when he became butler. He wore it with pride.

In the small looking glass above his mantle, he checked his tie and tie pin, adjusting them uncomfortably. The two articles of clothing didn't always cooperate and he wasn't satisfied that the pin was perfectly centered.

Soon, he heard a knock followed by a gentle opening and shutting of the door. He didn't need to turn and look to know it was her.

"Do you gather everything is in hand," a Scottish lilt asked brightly. Elsie Hughes loved these moments when she could regard her betrothed openly, albeit with his back to her. She loved the tie pin with which he was fiddling. From years past, she knew it rested plainly in her field of vision when she averted her eyes from his.

Everything was same, and everything was different to Elsie Hughes. She had probably asked the same question last year. They had been closer then. Devoted friends, confidants. But now, on the cusp of this Servant's Ball, they were engaged. Everything was different, she surmised happily.

"It would appear so. Messrs. Barrow and Molesley should be in the Entrance Hall now."

"Andy was just taking up the last tray, for now."

"He's not a bad lad, Andrew," he mused. He had proven himself capably over the past few months.

"He seems quite a nice young man," she agreed with a thoughtful smile.

"As long as Miss Denker stays out of his hair tonight and in the future," he concluded before finally turning to her.

Elsie Hughes stood motionless, her lithe frame wrapped in a dark blue gown of silk and short-sleeves befitting the evening. She was elegance and grace personified.

His heart skipped a beat before thudding with force inside his chest. His eyes widened perceptibly as his jaw slackened.

She felt a flush of pride and love and something she'd rather not dwell on with a house beginning to fill with guests.

"My heaven," he gurgled instinctively but truthfully before swallowing. He stalked closer to her, slowly, trying not to ogle but helpless to do anything else.

His eyes traced over her like warm fingertips, and she could almost feel the trail they left over her. He had never looked at her quite like this, not even since their engagement. She was amazed and flattered and flustered.

Such beautiful skin, he thought. Of course, he'd seen her wear this and similar dresses during countless other Servant's Balls. He knew she was beautiful – of course he had, for years. But recently, recently he allowed himself to dwell on her fine features, of the warmth of the soft skin of her hands and cheeks. And now this – this vision of bare arms, slim ankles, and décolletage. He was a drowning man – drowning in the vision of his betrothed.

"Beautiful," he murmured earnestly. He couldn't say anything else, for he knew all he wanted was to kiss her.

Her eyes fluttered then. Lord, he thought. How can she do something so little and bring me such joy? How can she give me so much?

Sentimental old sod, he self-castigated, as tears of joy burned, threatening to tumble forward. He couldn't hide the emotion she evoked in him any longer as they secreted away in his pantry. He didn't want to after discovering the blessed truth that his love was returned.

She could discern something shifted in him, falling in love with him even more as she watched the maelstrom of great emotion wash over his features. It was humbling to know she was partly responsible for the reemergence of his tender, sweet heart. The scars now fully-healed, he was free to love her as openly as they dared.

But time was growing short despite her growing need to stalk closer to him. She would have placed a gentle hand on his forearm – knowing how much it would steady them both. But as rushed as they felt to return upstairs on Christmas Eve a fortnight ago, it was even more likely they would soon be interrupted now.

Her eyes were shining with affection as she chewed her lip. She didn't know that made him more distracted by her. But that was a discussion reserved for an evening in the future - for their cottage, for their bed.

Quickly, she moved on to a different tact. Her mouth upturned into a playful smile before she asked, "Will I do, Mr. Carson? Or shall I have another check of my hair in the looking glass?"

He knew that tone—light, flirtatious. He loved its challenging edge, and he was pulled from his sentimental spiral.

His voice was still a bit rough from the receding threat of romantic abandon and sentimental tears. But Elsie Hughes didn't mind. In fact, she relished the added dimension to his low rumble. "I think your hair is quite tidy, if I may say so."

He moved past her then, deliberately dragging his hand across hers as he reached to open his pantry door.

His eyes were twinkling when he asked, "Shall we?"

The smile barely hidden by her demurely lowered face as she sauntered past was all he needed to head upstairs.

To be continued.

And we're off! This shouldn't be too long of a story, but I crave and appreciate your thoughts as I am still editing the last few chapters. Thank you for reading.