Work Text:
“I hope you find some happiness,” Jimmy said, voice rough, “I do, truly.”
“I hope the same for you too, Jimmy,” Thomas responded but it came out sounding far less sure than he wanted, too soft. But no one of importance was overhearing it, and what did it matter since Jimmy was leaving anyway. Since he, according to Jimmy himself, likely would never see him again, what did it matter now if Jimmy thought less of him?
“Oh that’ll be dandy.” Jimmy smiled and Thomas offered a smile of his own in return, painful and lacking though it was.
Ask me to come with you, Thomas thought, but it was no use because Jimmy was never going to offer for him to join in this particular adventure. They’d talked about it a handful of times, the things he’d want to see and the people he’d want to be with if he had the chance. Champagne and beautiful women - and Thomas couldn’t offer either. So Jimmy was going to go and Thomas and his broken heart would be left behind. He’d always known it would end like this, but he hadn’t realised just how unprepared he was.
“I better be off,” Jimmy said after a moment, and clasped Thomas’ hand one last time.
It wasn’t quite enough, the brush of their skin ended before it had really begun. Thomas wished he could embrace him, even just for a moment. He’d never gotten to truly hold Jimmy, not once. It had been a secret dream of his, nursed during drunken escapades where Jimmy leaned on him on the way home and late nights where their bodies brushed against each other sitting on the floor of Thomas’ bedroom. He’d never get to hold him, Thomas realised with startling clarity, and it took all the strength he had to turn around and face the carriage. He would never forgive himself if he didn’t turn to bid Jimmy Kent farewell for the final time.
Jimmy smiled, just barely, as the horses took the first steps. Thomas wanted to reach out and drag him back but there was nothing for it. Thomas couldn’t fix what had happened here, Jimmy’s own stupid mistake, and Jimmy didn’t want Thomas to come with him. So he watched him disappear down the long drive of Downton Abbey and wondered if his life was ever going to be the same again.
As it turned out, Thomas had never realised quite how much time in a day he’d spent with Jimmy. He’d been aware, of course, in some subconscious way, that Jimmy occupied not only a great part of his free time but also his thoughts. On his first smoke break he lit two cigarettes, only realising after a moment that Jimmy was not going to come stumbling through the doors to join him on their bench. He left the second cigarette to burn out on the ground and wondered how long it would be until he could sit on this bench without hearing Jimmy’s laugh. He didn’t know what was more painful: missing Jimmy or the thought of forgetting him.
He was an awful mess the rest of the day, and Carson exploded on him twice before lunch. Mrs Hughes looked on with compassion but did nothing to stop him. No one else said a word, during or after. Thomas didn’t expect them to, his only friend had left him behind and now this was all there was, a job and a house full of people who thought he’d be better off dead.
Regret had started to settle on him, slowly at first and then all at once, robbing him of his energy and leaving him exhausted. Swallowing his pride had never been his strong suit, but Thomas knew he would regret his cowardice to the end of his days. It was, of course, likely that Jimmy would have said no, had Thomas asked to come with him. Jimmy, more than anything else, had always wanted to be free, and men’s definition of freedom seldom included a pet lavender who had proven he’d take advantage given half a chance. But he could have at least given him some money, to make sure he had somewhere to sleep and for stamps to send out letters to some of the advertisements. Jimmy had never been any good at saving and Thomas doubted he had much more than a few pounds to his name. The thought filled him with dread. Jimmy would write, he hoped, if he ran into trouble like this. They’d both always known that he could ask of Thomas whatever he wanted and Thomas would give it. He had money saved up, certainly enough to hold Jimmy over for a few months, should he struggle to find a job. Maybe if Jimmy really did write he’d be able to send some money in the reply, just to make sure.
He almost decided against venturing outside for his afternoon smoke break, but he had everyone's eyes on him in the servants’ hall and there was no other escape. He dreaded the bench now, a symbol of his loneliness, mocking him like a desecrated altar.
But he only made it halfway there before a sound made him look up.
For a moment, Thomas thought he had simply wished Jimmy Kent back into existence, the way he stood by their bench, his bags resting on the wooden table and his hat in his hand. He looked- If he was truly honest with himself, then he had to admit that Jimmy looked awful. Thomas wasn’t certain Jimmy had cried, but his cheeks and eyes were red, his hair in disarray and his expression so forlorn Thomas had to keep himself from reaching out for him.
“I only made it as far as the village,” Jimmy said, voice tight and desperate.
Something within Thomas clenched up, cold and awful, at the sight of his friend in such a pitiful state. “Did something happen? Did-” Thomas tried to keep his voice calm but he knew he was failing.
“Nothing like that,” Jimmy said, waving him off with a pained grimace.
For a moment it was still, and all Thomas could hear was the rush of his own blood, adrenaline getting the better of him. Jimmy was here. Jimmy had come back, however briefly.
“Thomas, I-“ Jimmy opened and closed his mouth but no more sound came out.
Jimmy had never been any good with words, Thomas knew. It was different, when he was trying to charm Ivy or some girl from the village, or Mrs Patmore for some cake. Jimmy could be suave and charismatic when he needed to be, but the true Jimmy - his Jimmy - was harsh and abrasive and said the wrong thing more often than not. He rarely struggled for words though, more likely to speak without half a thought, getting himself into miles of trouble for Thomas to put right.
He could put this right too, he knew. Not the mess at Downton, Lord Grantham was not to be convinced to have Jimmy return this century, he was sure, but he could put right whatever had Jimmy struggling for words.
“Whatever it is,” Thomas said, “you’ve only to ask.” Please, he thought. Anything. Say the word and I will give it to you. Whatever it is, you can have it. It should have been a terrifying thought but it was covered in relief at the knowledge that, if Jimmy had come to him, that must mean he could help - that this was something he could fix for Jimmy. Get him out of trouble one last time.
“I’m scared,” Jimmy finally managed, voice hoarse and gaze firmly fixed on dirty cobblestones beneath their feet.
It was not what Thomas had expected, but he could relate. He, too, was scared, terrified even, of this new reality - and all he had lost was a friend. Jimmy had lost everyone at Downton, his home, and his employment in one night. “You’ve got the job with Lady Anstruther, don’t you? And she’ll give you a good reference when you’re ready to leave, I’m sure.”
Reassurance didn’t come naturally to Thomas, but his voice was calm when he spoke, so he supposed he deserved some credit for that.
Jimmy didn’t look convinced, shifting back and forth on his heels, not meeting Thomas’ eye. “That’s not-” Jimmy swallowed. His throat worked around the words, stuck like an errant piece of dinner, choking him slowly.
“Do you not want to go with her?” Thomas asked.
“If I leave right now, I will never see you again.” Jimmy said, voice perfectly toneless.
Thomas felt the words the same way he might have felt a bullet. It didn’t mean what he wanted it to mean, of course, Jimmy was terrified of the unknown and in a panic, but it hurt nonetheless because it was likely Jimmy was right.
They’d been very good friends, but if Jimmy went off to London or down South, or all the way to America, it was likely that this would be the last Thomas would ever see or hear of him at all. He would simply become a ghost, only ever to exist in Thomas’ mind. “I’m sure Mr Carson-“ Thomas tried, even though he only half believed Jimmy would ever be allowed in for a visit again.
“I know it, Thomas!” Desperation was clinging to his voice now, poorly disguised as anger.
“I will make sure you do, if that’s what you want,” Thomas said. It was an easy wish to grant, with the fortunate side effect that it made Thomas feel invincible to know Jimmy wanted to see him again, even now when it wasn’t convenient, when no one would bat an eye at him leaving Thomas behind, pretending he’d never existed at all, as a child might with a nightmare or a beating.
“What I want-“ Jimmy cut himself off. “It’s no matter what I want.”
“It’s the only thing that matters,” Thomas said before he could stop himself. He cringed but it was too late to backtrack, so he added, “Please, Jimmy.”
Jimmy was silent for a moment, eyes skirting the dirty floor, Thomas’ newly shined shoes, the bench by the pile of bricks. “What I want is for you to come with me. That’s awfully selfish of me, is it not?”
It was, Thomas realised with a start, awfully selfish. It was the best thing he’d ever heard. Relief flooded him, all at once and he could have cried for it. “Alright,” Thomas heard himself say before he’d made the conscious decision to speak. But really, what else was there to say? “Can you wait while I give Carson my notice?”
Jimmy gawked. Thomas resisted the urge to tell him off for it. “Thomas… I can’t promise you-“ Jimmy said, awkwardly, voice halting.
“I’m not asking,” Thomas said, words coming out in a rush. If Jimmy thought about it a moment too long he might take it all back, and Thomas would be left behind at Downton to die of his broken heart. “I’m not, I promise you.” He wasn’t sure if that promise meant anything at all, but it was all he had to give.
“I want to,” Jimmy whispered, quiet and doubtful. “More than anything, I want to, I just…”
“I’m not sure I understand,” Thomas said because the pieces weren’t falling together. It almost sounded like Jimmy was talking about something entirely other than friendship, as if he was considering a rather different path for his life. Thomas had to keep himself from hoping, from speaking rather out of turn through sheer power of will. He wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice. Whatever Jimmy wanted, Jimmy was going to get. If he only let Thomas come with him, then Thomas would never ask anything of him again.
Jimmy stared off into the distance. A minute passed, tension growing by the second. When he met Thomas' eyes again it was all wrong, twisted and awful on the inside, like someone had picked him apart and put him back together carelessly.
“Look what I’m asking of you,” he said, voice awful and tight. “This is your home.” He paused. “I’m a right selfish bastard.”
“Maybe,” Thomas said. “Alright, so what if you are? The answer’s still the same.”
I can’t help the way I feel , Thomas thought, somewhat hysterically, but I can promise to never touch you, never so much as breathe on you the wrong way . He didn’t voice the thought. It wasn’t going to be an argument in his favour.
“Because you love me,” Jimmy said, a quiet truth acknowledged in the light of day. It didn’t sound half awful when he said it like that, more like a fact of life than an accusation.
“What if I did?” Thomas said, as if there was any question about it. “It would make no difference. You’re me best mate-“
“I can’t stand the thought of leaving you behind,” Jimmy burst out. “I lied, I only made it down the drive before-“ He took a shaky breath. “It felt like I’d died,” He added, quietly. “So I don’t think it were best mates what I was after.”
Thomas said nothing. No words would come to his mind, no sound would pass his lips.
Jimmy didn’t seem to care, barrelling on like a dam that had been broken. “I’m not saying I can give you what you want. I’m damn sure you’ll regret it the moment you-“ He cut himself off. “But you want me. And the thought of leaving here without ever…” He trailed off.
Thomas didn’t need him to finish the sentence. It was coming together, slowly. He’d been wrong before. He’d made assumptions, picked the wrong pieces and slotted them where they didn’t quite belong. But what Jimmy was saying - he wasn’t sure there was any other way about it. And even if he was wrong, it wouldn’t change a damn thing. “I will go where you go.” Thomas said. “I will need to give my notice and I will need a reference, so I won’t be able to leave today. But if you can give me a moment, I will speak to Carson now.”
He wasn’t sure he could step back inside. He had the horrible thought that the moment he took his eyes off Jimmy he might disappear, like a mirage or the fleeting steam that clung to the mirror after a hot bath. It would give Jimmy time to come to his senses and then where would Thomas be, without a job and without a friend in the world.
“Not quite yet,” Jimmy breathed, voice still soft. “Let me-“ He reached for Thomas, stepping closer, close enough for Thomas to feel the warmth of his body.
A hand grasped his, and a moment later a second followed, cradling his gloved, scarred hand. He had to fight the urge to pull it away, to hide the flaw as if this would be the straw to break the proverbial camel's back.
Jimmy stared up at him, wide eyed. It wasn’t fear, Thomas realised with startling ease, it was amazement. Wonder. And intermixed with it all, entangled beyond any hope of separation, was joy. Jimmy was happy. Thomas had made him happy. Holding his useless, ugly hand, the proof of his cowardice, made the boy he loved happy. How was he meant to say no to this, to deny himself any of this?
Jimmy stepped closer yet, until their chests brushed, and slowly, but without hesitation, tucked his face into the space between Thomas' chin and collarbone.
Thomas thought he may have forgotten how to breathe, and a good thing it was because he wasn’t sure any movement, even just a rise of his chest, wouldn’t startle Jimmy and make him come back to his senses. Jimmy pressed closer, impossibly, arms coming up behind Thomas in a tight embrace. Thomas had his hands wrapped around the other man's back before he could think better of it.
“I don’t know what I would have done if you’d said no,” Jimmy whispered.
Stupid, silly boy , Thomas thought. As if there’s anything you could’ve asked of me that I would have denied you. “I’ll go wherever you go, for as long as you’ll have me,” he said.
Jimmy's arms tightened around him almost painfully. Warm breath ghosted what little of his skin was bare above his collar as Jimmy's lips mouthed familiar words. There was no sound to them, but Thomas understood all the same, with the sudden clarity of a blind man granted sight.
The kiss he pressed into golden curls was barely more than a brush of lips, but Jimmy’s breath quickened all the same, a sound suspiciously like a sob escaping.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you, thank you.”
Thomas held him as close as he could and let his lips rest back on Jimmy’s curls. Silly, stupid, vain, selfish boy, who’d made all of Thomas’ dreams come true in the blink of an eye. He wasn’t going to vanish, Thomas knew, once he went back inside to hand in his notice to Carson, nor when they’d have to go to sleep in separate beds tonight. Jimmy was going to be right there still, he knew with certainty. Jimmy was his, an impossibility come to life, better for the fact that he had been a hopeless pipe dream. And he was going to keep him. He was going to go wherever Jimmy Kent went, and, impossibly, Jimmy Kent would do the same for him.