Fluffy silliness inspired by a picture on Tumblr

Mr. Carson was in a fouler than usual mood this morning. He had been awakened last night by a loud sound and had had difficulty finding sleep again. Just when he'd managed to dose off, Alfred and James made a fair impression of a herd of stampeding elephants passing his room. He'd thrown his pillow against the door in frustration, but it was too late. There would be no more sleep for him and with the dinner party planned for tonight, he was sure there'd be no more sleep until early tomorrow morning.

As if he wasn't exhausted enough, his waistcoat was missing a button necessitating a quick repair. No doubt he'd be late for breakfast, and today was a day that he needed as much sustenance as possible. Then he proceeded to poke his finger with the needle, getting blood on his best shirt and cut his chin shaving. Finally, he noticed that his can of hair pomade was empty, and when he reached into the drawer for another one there was none to be found. Bloody, blooming Hades. This was what came of missing his half day, and not another one for at least two weeks. With a growl of frustration, he wet his comb and smoothed his hair down as best he could.

He stalked down the stairs to breakfast thinking that there was no way that this day could get worse. He was so focused on his own thoughts that he nearly bowled poor Mrs. Bates over. Catching her arm to prevent her falling, he mumbled an apology but noticed that her eyes were wide and fixed on his hair. For heaven's sake, had the curl already escaped? There wasn't time to duck into his pantry to smooth it down again, but he would certainly do so after breakfast.

With a sigh, he tugged his waistcoat down, squared his shoulders and stepped into the servants' hall. All noise ceased and the younger members of staff rose as was appropriate. As it always did, his gaze immediately went to Mrs. Hughes's place. He frowned to see that she hadn't arrived yet. It was late; perhaps he should check on her. On the other hand, it would be more appropriate to send one of the women. He glanced down the table to look for a likely candidate and saw that all the women's eyes, plus Thomas's, were wide and fixed on his forehead. It couldn't be that bad already, could it? He resolved to just shovel his porridge in as quickly as possible so that he would have time to smooth it down again.

With a voice just a bit gruffer than usual, he ordered the youngest housemaid to check on Mrs. Hughes. He was cut off by her Scottish burr from the doorway, "That won't be necessary, Mr. Carson. I'm just a bit slower than normal this morning." He turned to smile at her and saw her eyes widen as well. She fixed her eyes on his forehead and the tips of his ears started to burn. It must be absolutely horrible. For a moment, he considered grabbing a piece of toast and disappearing to control the damage, but only for a moment. He couldn't deny himself the pleasure of her company for breakfast no matter how bad his hair looked.

While they were eating, she kept glancing at his hair and then letting her eyes drop back to her plate when he tried to meet them. Excellent woman, trying to spare his feelings. He devoted himself to finishing his breakfast as quickly as possible. He would have to find a way into the village for hair pomade some way today. There was no way he could endure this embarrassment for much longer.

The rest of the morning didn't go too badly, although the Earl did give him an odd look or two. Luncheon finally arrived and unfortunately, Mrs. Crawley and the Dowager Countess arrived with it. Even their eyes seemed drawn to his forehead. His mortification increased exponentially. Lady Grantham stuttered and stared when he walked into the drawing room to announce their arrival. He really wished they'd just ignore him. Was it too much to ask?

Finally it was time for the staff to have their midday meal. He saw that this was likely to be his best chance. If he could persuade Mrs. Patmore to wrap a sandwich for him, he would eat it on the way to the village and just have time to make the necessary purchase. When he stepped into the kitchen to do just that, Mrs. Patmore spotted him and nearly dropped the cake she was pulling from the oven. That was the last straw. Drawing himself up to his full height, he drew a deep breath and was ready to let the full force of his temper loose. Mrs. Hughes happened by at just that moment and caught his arm, "Mr. Carson, if I could see you in my sitting room?"

As he followed her to her sitting room, he realized that he had been extremely fortunate. There was no need to anger the cook unnecessarily. She did make a good apple tart and had access to knives. The door was no more than shut behind him than she rounded on him and asked, "Mr. Carson, what has gotten into your head? Were you about to scold Mrs. Patmore? Surely even you know that would be a very foolish thing to do."

To be fair, he had already had that thought, but it didn't make it any easier to hear it from her. "Mrs. Hughes," he ground out, "I feel that I have been extraordinarily patient today. I will admit that I am not in my usual state of good grooming, but I certainly don't think the women of this house have been very discreet. Is it too much to ask for a bit of forbearance?"

She blushed, "I have no idea what you mean."

"You, woman, are a horrible liar," he accused, "Every woman in this house has been unable to keep her eyes off my hair. It was my fault that I neglected to see that I was running low, but I was sure that I had at least one more can of hair pomade. I am well aware that I appear foolish, but I'd rather not be reminded of that fact every time that a woman looks at me."

She had stepped toward him while he spoke, "Foolish? Is that what you think?"

Something in her eyes seemed the tiniest bit predatory so he backed toward the door and swallowed quickly, "What else am I supposed to think? Staring and stuttering women. I must look very silly indeed."

His backward progress was stopped by the door, but Mrs. Hughes's forward progress was not. She put her hands on his shoulders and said in a low, husky voice that sent a jolt down to his midsection, "Mr. Carson, you most certainly do not appear foolish."

He was ashamed of the croak that came out when he asked, "Then what?"

She rose on her toes and one hand stole to the back of his head to tangle her fingers in the back of his hair. Her lips were inches from his, "Your hair is very attractive, Mr. Carson."

The way her voice rolled over the 'R' of his name made him swallow quickly again. "Attractive?"

She nodded, "Very." Then she pressed her lips to his and all thoughts of hair pomade, missing buttons, lost sleep, and staring women fled from his mind.

When she finally pulled away, he smiled, "So, I shouldn't make a quick trip to the village to replace my supply?"

"Don't you dare."

He grinned now, "Um, I didn't get much sleep last night…"

"Nor will you tonight, Mr. Carson," she said and silenced him with another kiss.

Perhaps today wasn't such a bad day after all.

Reviews are welcome as always