Work Text:
Where are the shirts? It was the second occurence in a too short period of months where those thoughts had rushed panicking through Thomas’s head. The last time had been the night when O’Brien or Alfred (he’d never sussed out which) had stolen his lordship’s shirts not long after Mary’s wedding. But this time was even worse than then. Because it wasn’t his lordship’s shirts that were missing- it was his own. And there weren’t any pants to be found either. Or anything else.
It was summer and a particularly hot one at that. Thomas had been taking advantage of the fact that he lived in a single room by sleeping naked but now it seemed the unforseen dangers of doing so were coming round to bite him in the arse. He had no idea who could or would do such a thing as hiding his clothes. O’Brien was always ready to put a cruel word in when he was around but she knew he had power over her now and wouldn’t dare try anything funny. Thomas had been more surprised than anyone to notice that Alfred of all people seemed to have not only dropped any grudge he might’ve had with him recently but that his behavior toward Thomas could even be described as friendly. Atleast friendlier than most of the other staff (Thomas didn’t trust this at all and was very suspicious that this behavior was another of his aunt’s plots- one that would not work). Jimmy seemed to bitterly resent the fact that Thomas was still allowed to work at Downton but somehow he couldn’t picture Jimmy doing this.
Thomas began rifling through all the drawers in his dresser and his panic only rose when he realized there was not a single piece of clothing in his room anymore. Not even pajamas. Not even a sock.
He looked around for his bath towel. Not even that was there.
Fuck.
Thomas Barrow was at a loss. He couldn’t leave his room naked. Even if he knew whose work this was he couldn’t very well get revenge without any clothing. But he also couldn’t stay in the room all day without even giving someone notice of his absence.
Maybe I can pretend to be really sick, like I couldn’t even come downstairs to tell Carson that I wouldn’t be working. He shook his head to himself. When someone came up to check on him they’d see he wasn’t dressed even if he covered up with blankets. Even if they didn’t that plan would only work for a day.
He paced the room twice, nervously biting on his thumbnail.
The idea of asking for help was abhorrent to Thomas. Doing so, regardless of the situation, was an admission of vulnerability for a start and furthermore left you in other’s debts which he tried at all costs to avoid. On the most part Thomas could survive like this- independent. He was clever and could figure things out without assistance almost always. He took pride in it. Even if it took him a bit longer to do things on his own than it took others to do things with help, he thought himself better than those who relied on other people to make their way in life. Only occasionally did he ever allow himself to feel bitter that it was always him against the world. He knew it was atleast partially his own doing so he couldn’t let himself brood on it.
But it created a problem that when Thomas actually did find himself in a situation that he could not handle on his own, he was so out of practice with asking for help that he often couldn’t do it at all.
Even thinking about having to go out into the hall and ask one of the other footmen or someone to either look for his clothes or lend him something to wear made him almost feel physically ill. It immediately made him start grasping at straws in his mind for any plan no matter how drastic to somehow get out of the situation as long as it was on his own. There might not be a lot of people around in the halls right now. I could knick a suit from someone else’s room. Then lock my door from the inside. Leave a note on it saying I’m extremely sick- throats too sore to speak and no one can come in because it’s very contagious. I could climb out the window, scale several stories of the house, and then walk into town and buy a new suit. Then come back, scale the side of the house again…. It was already too ridiculous but atleast it didn’t involve other people.
I need a smoke. Smoking will make this better.
But there was no time for there was a knock at the door and Thomas felt his entire body go stiff with fear.
“Thomas? Are you alright?”
His heart sank to the pit of his stomach. It was that bastard Bates. Of all the people in the entire world who could’ve knocked on his door, Bates was the last person he would’ve wanted.
“Uh” he said, completely at a loss. He looked around frantically. The bedsheet was the only thing in his room he could use to protect his modesty. He grabbed it and wrapped it around himself like a cloak.
“I’m- uh- not feeling well.” he sputtered, walking back towards the end of the room. He didn’t make it in time though and to his horror Bates opened the door a crack. Thomas rushed forward and tried to slam it shut in the other man’s face but the crafty arsehole stuck his cane in the door, forcing it open a sliver.
He could see Bates squinting, perplexed, through the crack, unable to see him completely.
“Open the door, Thomas.” he said with slight irritation.
“I-I’m sick. You don’t want to catch it.”
“You don’t sound sick.” Bates said, turning his head to try and peer inside the room.
“Who’s the medic here- me or you?!” Thomas exclaimed in frustration, unhappy at hearing his own voice rise an octave in his panic.
For a beat the valet was silent and then he said quietly, “Thomas… are you hiding something? Is everything alright?”
Thomas had never been able to understand Bates. The man was a complete mystery to him. On the surface he was just some fat old codger with a limp and a cagey attitude who’d stolen his job from under him. Then he’d turned out to be some fat old codger with a limp who had a history of stealing and some mad, secret, wife he was estranged from who was possibly a murderer. But Bates seemd to have a strong set of “morals”- something Thomas had never seen value in. Bates would probably lie down and let himself get driven over by a car if it was in the name of duty and honor. Thomas thought it was incredibly tiresome. Thomas, who would choose almost any dishonorable course of action if it meant saving his own skin, found Bates’s general outlook on life marvellously impractical and at moments even infuriating. It seemed to him that the man created his own problems out of situations that could easily be solved if he would abandon his strict principle or martyrdom for a goddamn second.
Their personalities were so contrasting that it was no wonder that they didn’t get along even aside from professional rivalry.
That’s why Thomas had been shocked when Bates had come to him not but a few months ago the day he was packing his bags to leave Downton, and offered him his help to get back at O’Brien. At that time Thomas had been so numb and downtrodden he barely registered it. But after some time had gone by it occurred to him that Bates had been the only one of the lot of them who’d been willing to help him…. and he resented it bitterly.
He hated seeing Bates in the servant’s hall just shining his lordship’s shoes or talking to Anna. He would look at Thomas as he normally did. And talk to him the same way. But it drove him mad not knowing why the man had bothered to get him his job back when he so clearly hated Thomas. When they’d done nothing but fight like cats and dogs ever since they’d met. He was convinced the other man was just biding his time waiting to hold Thomas’s debt over him and try to make him do something in return. He wouldn’t. He consistently reminded himself that he owed Bates nothing. That Bates had no information about him that he could use as blackmail. That Bates had just decided to help for no good reason and that that decision had nothing to do with him.
All the same, he hated the idea of him having to accept help from him a second time.
“I’m just fine, Mr.Bates.” he said curtly.
“Really? I thought you were sick.”
He instinctively opened the door a half an inch further so Bates could see the disapproving glower he was giving him.
That was a mistake because this time Bates put his foot in the door and again tried to jam it open.
“Get your foot out or you’ll have two gammy legs not just one!” Thomas exclaimed.
But it was too late and Bates had forced his way into Thomas’s room, closing the door behind him.
“Now tell me what’s-” he paused, frowning. “… Why are you wearing a sheet?”
Thomas felt all the blood in his entire body rush to his face making his cheeks burn.
“I- I wasn’t finished dressing.” he stammered, “You shouldn’t just go into other people’s rooms without their permission!”
“That’s rich coming from you of all people.” Bates responded automatically and then seemed to regret it when Thomas’s face visibly fell. The younger man’s previous embarassment was replaced by bitterness and he crossed the room, picking up his cigarettes and putting one in his mouth.
“You better get out then. Before people get the wrong idea.”
Bates scoffed and rolled his eyes, “As if anyone would.”
Thomas shrugged, not looking up as he lit his cigarette. “I don’t think there’s any perversion Carson would think below me. Or anyone like me for that matter.”
“Carson is already downstairs. And I know you don’t care what he thinks of you so don’t pretend that you do.” Bates said bluntly. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”
Thomas took a drag, quickly assessing his options. Bates was a stubborn arse and he’d already figured out that Thomas wasn’t sick so he might really stay there until he got a more satisfactory answer. And it was true that he couldn’t look for his clothes in his current state. He exhaled smoke and resolved to ask Bates for help. He had to. He had no other choice. So that’s what he was going to do.
“Oh, sod off. Go waste your self important nonsense on someone who cares.” were the actual words that came out of his mouth though. He’d had every intention of explaining the situation and asking for help but somehow the thoughts had gotten lost on the way from his brain to his lips and that had come out instead.
Bates frowned but didn’t move.
Thomas took another puff off his cigarette.
“I think… someone stole all of my clothes.” he said, staring at the floorboards.
The silence seemed to stretch on for hours and finally he forced himself to look up. Bates was supressing laughter.
I knew this was a bad idea. He stood up, wrapping the sheet tighter around himself.
“Get out. I can deal with this by myself.” he seethed.
Bates shook his head, chuckling. “No you can’t.”
Thomas didn’t know how to respond to that because it was true.
“Alright…” he said slowly, every instinct rejecting what he was doing, “Then… what should I do?”
“I can lend you something of mine to wear-“ Bates started but Thomas made a face.
“As if they’d fit on me.” he snapped abrasively.
Bates nearly rolled his eyes again. At this point he was so used to Thomas’s rudeness that he let it roll right off of him.
“Well nothing of Alfred’s will fit you- he’s too tall. And James is too short….” Bates remembered that Carson had hired a new footman recently. A man only a few years older than James and Alfred named Alfie. Alfie, like Thomas, seemed to walk around with a perpetual sneer on his face but that was only when he wasn’t flirting with the girls in the kitchen. He was tall but not as tall as Alfred. Of the three of them his height was probably closest to Thomas. But while Thomas was broad shouldered, Alfie was spindly in body type and therefore “… and Alfie is too slim.”
Thomas sighed. Bates thought for a minute.
“You stay here. I’ll tell Carson you’re not well. And when I get a free moment I’ll look for your clothes.” he said slowly.
Thomas’s eyes shifted around the room once and he bit his lower lip briefly.
“… Alright.” he agreed finally as if it caused him great physical pain to say it. His eyes shot to Bates’s in a glare and he added, “If you tell anyone about this, though, I’ll make you sorry.”
“I don’t want to be threatened by someone who isn’t wearing trousers.” Bates replied coolly, making Thomas’s face go red once more.
“I’ll come back before lunch.” he said as he walked out the door, closing it behind him, leaving Thomas alone once more.
Thomas was confused. He couldn’t see what Bates had to gain out of this and it made him nervous. He was also furious with himself. For not being able to think of a way out of this that didn’t involve Bates of all people’s help.
He and Bates had no reason to fight anymore other than their conflicting personalities and old grudges. They were equal on the servant’s hierarchy so they were no longer rivals. And since his close call with Jimmy, Thomas had been rather subdued. He was no longer on friendly terms with O’Brien and even she hadn’t started trouble as of late. Thomas didn’t have the will to try and stir things up lately and even the sarcastic commentary was at a bare minimum. He kept to himself. Tried not to jeopardize his job. Maybe that’s why things had been nearly civil between him and Bates. There had been a few moments where they’d exchanged barbed words and shot glares at eachother but mostly they were out of eachother’s hair.
Thomas took a drag of his cigarette.
Who knows? This could be the beginning of a friendship. As soon as the thought came into his head he winced in disgust and shivered. No. Definitely not.
-
Bates wasn’t sure what compelled him to help Thomas. He didn’t like to see people being bullied or having injustice done to them. That had been true of him for as long as he could remember. But it was strange and ironic that he would have to find himself standing up for Thomas. He was so accustomed to Thomas being the perpetrator of the bullying that seeing him as the victim was odd. It made him uncomfortable to see Thomas that way. Bates felt more at ease when he could hate Thomas without feeling pity towards him. So perhaps that was his own selfish motivation for helping- if he helped him, then they were on equal footing once more and he could dislike him without feeling any guilt.
When he’d dressed his lordship he began his search. He was tempted to tell Anna about what was happening as she was the experienced detective (he thought this with a smile) but he didn’t. She had enough work as it was. So he limped around the house searching in various cupboards and closets, looking for anywhere a large heap of clothes might be stored.
As he was walking through the kitchen to look through the pantry he overheard a conversation that made him take pause.
“That Barrow’s not sick, y’know.”
It was Alfie. He could see the back of his head which was distinctive- he had the type of haircut that was becoming popular with some men lately where the sides were sheared closer than the hair on top. However, Alfie wore it with much less grace than the men he’d seen with it in London as his hair was coarse and only slightly shorter in the middle than it was on the sides. His previous job must have required him to be out in the sunlight more often for the longer section of his hair was a light brown while the stubble coming in at the sides was darker.
He was doing what seemed to be his favorite hobby of trying to impress the kitchenmaids.
“I know why he’s gone this morning. And it’s not a cold.” Alfie went on.
One of the kitchenmaids smiled sweetly.
“I think Mr.Barrow’s quite handsome.” she said dreamily.
Alfie looked slightly miffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well there’s no use bothering with him, Martha. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. He’s not as good as they’d all like us to go around pretending he is.” he leaned in close to the two girls conspiratorily. “I’ve heard he’s a poof.”
One of the girls, the elder one’s eyes widened and she put a hand to her mouth.
“Really? So that’s true then?” she whispered incredulously. Martha on the otherhand looked confused.
“What’s that mean?”
Alfie shook his head pityingly and patted her cheek. “You’ll understand when you’re older, love.” he stole a brownie off the tray the girls were preparing and popped it in his mouth.
Well, that’s one mystery solved, Bates thought.
“You shouldn’t speak ill of your superiors, Alfie.” he said icily making the footman jump and whirl around, crumbs still on his lips.
He’d interrogate him later if he had to but he walked past him and into the pantry. He found nothing in there but when he came back out, Alfie was gone. But now he had a good idea of where he might look. He climbed up to the attics once more and this time went for Alfie’s room.
The footman’s bedroom was messy and cluttered- he seemed to throw clothes that he’d worn onto his dumb-valet without a care and there was a dollop of shaving cream on the floor. The boy was not destined for great things, Bates thought dryly as he opened his closet. Sure enough on the floor was a stack of neatly pressed suits and clothes. Bates smiled to himself with some pride as he picked them up carefully and left the room after making sure it was exactly as it had been before (with the exception of the stolen clothes).
He walked down the hall and tapped on Thomas’s door. The man inside must’ve been smoking and panicked when he heard the knock for he could hear a sudden, muffled coughing, then stumbling to the door.
“Wh-Who is it?”
“It’s just me, Thomas.”
The door swung open.
Thomas was still wearing the sheet wrapped about himself and his hair was still in a disarray with his bangs falling onto his forehead.
Bates held out the stack of clothes triumphantly and for a moment a look of pure relief and happiness flooded the under butler’s face devoid of malice as he accepted them.
“I don’t believe it! You really found them!” he said in wonder. Then he seemed to remember himself and composed his face into a neutral expression. He swallowed and sat down on his bed, looking through the pile. Finally he looked up, sighing.
“It’s all my clothes that I wear outside of work. But my uniform’s not here.”
Bates frowned.
“Where did you find these anyway?”
“Alfie’s room.”
Thomas shook his head.
“Prick. I should’ve known.” he muttered.
Bates raised his eyebrows. “It’s not like you to take insult lying down. I’d have thought if he’d so much as looked at you the wrong way you’d have had him out the door by now. Certainly that’s in your power.” and even if it wasn’t officially in his power, Thomas was a great deal more clever than Alfie was. He’d nearly had Bates himself out of a job numerous times, it would’ve only taken one scheme to destroy Alfie.
Thomas shrugged his shoulders, looking down at the floorboards.
“Didn’t think it would turn into a problem. Besides, if I told Carson the things I heard him saying about me he’d probably only like Alfie better for it.”
This was the Thomas Barrow that Bates couldn’t stand seeing. Even Thomas sneering at him put him off less than seeing him withdrawn and looking like his spirit had been crushed.
“I don’t know where the rest would be. I’ve looked everywhere in the house.” Bates said.
“Everywhere in the house, you say?” Thomas said thoughtfully. “Well… I know where I might put them if it were me. I’ll get dressed first then go look.”
“I’ll go with you.” Bates said automatically, shocking even himself. Thomas looked surprised but nodded his head.
Bates left the room and waited in the hallway while Thomas dressed and came out once more.
“It’ll be a bit of a walk.” Thomas said, eyes flicking down to Bates’s cane as they went downstairs.
“I’ll be fine.” Bates said tersely.
Careful to avoid any other prying eyes who thought Thomas was sick, they left through the back door of the house and Thomas led him down to the lake.
The young man sighed sadly when they saw white shirts and black blazers floating in the water.
“I’m sorry, Thomas.” Bates said hesitantly. The other man’s face was unreadable.
“That’s alright, Mr.Bates. I’m used to it.” he said in a clipped tone.
And Bates felt all the sorrier for him because of that.
Thomas sat at the edge of the dock and pulled his shoes and shoes and socks off, then his braces and his shirt, laying them neatly to the side before lowering himself into the water. He watched the under butler’s neat stroke as he swam out to the end of the pond to fetch a lazily drifting pair of trousers. He turned and smirked.
“The water doesn’t feel half bad today in this weather.”
He swam around catching clothes and then mounting them in a wet, dripping, pile at the end of the dock. He searched through them, counting them.
“That’s the lot.” he said then he winced. “Oh…”
“What is it?”
“I had a watch… It was in one of my pockets. It’s probably sunk to the bottom.” Thomas swam back out to the center of the pond and took a deep breath before pinching his nose and diving under the surface. He came up again for a breath a few feet away with his hair slicked back with water.
“I think I saw it. Good thing it’s gold and shiny.” he said with a grin. “It’s funny though. I thought I saw something else metal down there that it caught on.”
Bates blinked. That’s right. This was the place where Mrs.Hughes had made him throw away that torture device he’d bought for his leg.
“Thomas, be caref-“ he started to say but the other man was already gone.
It was longer this time before Thomas came back up and when he did it was first his arm, clutching tightly a gold watch, then his head but only halfway. He sputtered, struggling.
“I’m- stuck! Foot’s caught on somethin” he managed to yell with water getting in his mouth. Bates lurched forward to the end of the dock, falling to his knees and leaning out to the water. He grabbed his cane and held it out, bridging the space between their hands. Thomas grabbed the end of it and Bates pulled him. At first Thomas winced in pain and Bates had to pull hard but in an instant Thomas got free and fell forward in the water, towards the dock. Bates grabbed the coughing under butler under the arms and hauled him up.
Thomas sputtered and hacked for a minute before he could breathe normally, running a shaking hand through his damp hair. He turned to Bates. His face held an unspoken ‘thank you’ and he nodded once almost imperceptibly.
Bates didn’t tell him the reason he’d nearly drowned in the first place was probably because of his own stupid limp fixer. Let him think he owes me his life- maybe it will humble him, he thought dryly.
Thomas pulled his leg up, examining the deep scratches down the sides of it and made a face.
“That Alfie will have hell to pay for all this.” Thomas muttered.
“Damn right.” Bates agreed.
Thomas looked up at him incredulously. “I’ll handle him myself.”
Bates laughed. “No you won’t. Your plans are always shite. Have you ever noticed how rarely they work out for you?”
The under butler’s mouth dropped open, looking insulted.
“And besides, they may have been your clothes but I’m the one who’s been running round all day looking for them. If anyone deserves revenge it’s me.” he added, smiling.
Thomas blinked at him. He honestly wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or awake. Bates had just saved his life and was talking about revenge.
Thomas gathered up all of his uniform suits, squeezing as much water as he could from them, and the two walked back to the house. This time both of them were limping slightly.
“You can use my cane if you’d like.” Bates said casually, giving a side eye to Thomas who was stumbling along slightly behind him. The under butler gave him a very dark glare.
“I’m just fine as I am, Mr.Bates. I’m far from crippled.” he bit out nastily.
“Then lean on me atleast.”
Thomas gave him a look of utter disgust which Bates ignored.
“Trying to walk on a limp when you need support is never a good idea. You can trust me on that.”
Thomas frowned and put one hand on Bates’s shoulder for the rest of the walk, wincing as if the physical contact was hurting him more than his leg. They looked like a three legged race with each only having one good leg to stand on. They were lucky not to encounter anyone else as Bates helped Thomas to his room.
When Thomas had changed out of his wet clothes the two of them sat down and Thomas lit a cigarette.
“I was thinking I’d make it look like he stole something.” Thomas said.
Bates stared at him in disbelief. “Don’t you ever get bored with framing other people for stealing? Besides which, you don’t have to invent a theft this time. He really did steal something- from you.”
Thomas shook his head firmly. “No. Can’t tell Carson about this.”
“Why not? Too honest?”
“Just because.” Thomas said, looking distant as he let smoke curl from his lips.
It was not a wonder he’d never seen Thomas as a victim until recently. Because Thomas never allowed himself to be one. Even if it meant being the villain instead. Bates frowned.
“Well, maybe telling Carson he stole something at all isn’t the best plan. He’s young. Something like that could ruin a man,” Bates said knowingly, “You want him to lose his job, not the rest of his life.”
Thomas looked up at him. “Don’t I?”
Bates chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, you are quite evil, Thomas Barrow.”
“That’s what my mother used to say.” he said with a shrug, smile playing on his lips.
“Well I’m glad your mother and I are in agreement.”
“I think it’s a fairly common sentiment.”
Bates laughed and Thomas smirked, taking another drag off his cigarette.
“But I think I know something we can do.” Bates said.
-
Bates found an excuse to go to the attic that morning so he could see the result of his and Thomas’s work.
“Why are you in such a good mood?” Anna had asked him when they’d walked to the house. He’d shrugged his shoulders, trying to keep the smile off his face.
As he approached the men’s quarters he could already hear a raised voice.
“What the bloody hell is going on?! Who did this?!”
He turned into the hallway to see Alfie standing in the middle of it, wearing nowt but a dress shirt and socks and holding in his hands a pair of trousers. A pair of trousers with the crotch cut out.
Alfred and Jimmy were already dressed and trying to contain their laughter.
“It isn’t fucking funny!” Alfie seethed, “All of my trousers are like this! What am I supposed to wear?!”
Alfred’s shoulders were shaking from repressed laughter.
Jimmy smirked, shrugging his shoulders. “You’re always talking about wanting to get in the kitchen maids’ skirts- maybe one of them will lend you something for the day.”
At his comment Alfred broke into hysterics and Alfie’s face turned an unpleasant shade of beet red.
Thomas walked out of his room, looking around in surprise.
“What’s all the fuss then?” he asked innocently.
Alfie whirled on him, realization and then fury slowly dawning on his face.
“You-! This was you, wasn’t it!? You bastard! Taking revenge?!” Alfie yelled, stalking towards him. Thomas frowned.
“Revenge? For what?”
“For-!” Alfie started but then seemed to remember himself and stopped in his tracks, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. Thomas fixed him with a gaze and Alfie was forced to look down at the floor.
“Nothing. Just… nothing.”
The ends of Thomas’s lips quirked upwards and in an instant his expression changed from one of casual innocence to one of cool maliciousness and he said in a clipped town, “That’s ‘nothing, Mr.Barrow’ to you, Alfie. And it doesn’t bode well for your career here to call your boss a bastard.”
Especially not with three witnesses. Alfie left a week later (in newly bought trousers).
The night that he left Thomas found Bates, Alfred, and Jimmy in the servant’s hall. Bates was reading a newspaper, waiting for Anna to finish and Alfred and Jimmy were playing cards. Thomas sat down next to Jimmy but the blond pointedly stood up, collecting his cards and stalking out of the room. Alfred gave Thomas an almost apologetic look before following him.
Thomas tried not to look as downtrodden as he felt and shakily lit a cigarette. The valet peered at him over the edge of his newspaper. It felt like every moment of his shame had to be witnessed by Bates of all people.
“Just ignore him. He’ll come around.”
Too tired to think of a comeback Thomas laughed once, hollowly.
“Will he? Wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t.”
Bates folded his newspaper and set it aside.
“Give me a cigarette?”
Thomas was shocked out of his sadness by the request and stared at him incredulously.
“You want a what now?”
He rolled his eyes. “Just once. I haven’t smoked in years.”
Thomas continued to fix him with a look like he was a space alien but handed him one and lit it for him. Bates inhaled once, shallowly, and then cleared his throat.
“Won’t Anna smell it on you?” Thomas quipped.
“I’ll tell her it’s your fault.” he replied coolly.
They sat in a comfortable silence, each smoking. Thomas watched with newfound respect as Bates blew a series of impressive smoke rings into the air above his head.
“When I first met Anna I loved her almost immediately. But I thought it would never happen.”
Thomas had to restrain himself from groaning out loud. This is it. This is how he’s going to extract his payment for helping me. He’s going to make me listen to the full Anna and Bates love story in it’s entirety. God, just kill me…
“I didn’t think I was the right person for her so I pushed her away. And with my marriage to Vera, I knew it was wrong to try and pursue her. Even though in my heart I knew there could be nothing more right and more noble than loving her.”
Jesus Christ, is he ever going to shut up? Thomas thought reminding himself miserably that he did owe him a debt and couldn’t just leave.
Then Bates looked him in the eyes leaving him feeling extremely uncomfortable and he said, “Sometimes you push people away even when you love them. It takes time. I was a fool to not tell Anna as soon as I felt it that I loved her. But when I finally did it was all the more sweeter because I’d waited until I knew my heart and that I could trust her with it.”
Why is he still talking? Why? Thomas tried to maintain a polite expression on his face but he wasn’t sure why the valet was telling him all this when he clearly didn’t care.
Bates sighed in frustration, rolling his eyes.
“Thomas, I’m trying to tell you that…” he finally almost sputtered, “… that someday you’re going to be happy.”
Thomas furrowed his brow at him. He was feeling more and more lately that Bates might’ve gone a bit mad in jail.
“You’re a funny one.” he muttered.
“You should look after Jimmy.”
Thomas gaped. “Since when are we talking about Jimmy?”
Bates gave him a glare like his comment had just offended his intelligence and shook his head slightly.
Thomas thought for a moment, staring at the smoke curling from the end of his cigarette.
“I do look after him. I always am…. Or I try to atleast. But I can tell he hates it.” he couldn’t bring himself to say ‘he hates me’- it was too painful.
“There may come a time where he appreciates it. He’s a bit of a troublemaker.” Bates smiled almost fondly, “Reminds me a bit of you.”
Thomas had thought Jimmy was like him too. In more ways than one.
“Are you ready?”
it was Anna’s voice and Thomas was jolted from his thoughts. For a moment he was elated thinking he was going to see Bates get scolded by his wife for smoking but the crafty devil had already put his cigarette out apparently and stood up, straightening his suit and grabbing his cane.
As he was about to walk out the door, Thomas burst out “Thank you, Mr.Bates.”
It was almost more of an expletive or a cough than an actual sentence the way he said it quickly and he immediately turned his eyes down to the table, hoping he wasn’t blushing. Bates didn’t say anything in return and Thomas was glad of it. Anyway, it’s not like they were friends or anything.