Blue Skies Prompt #12: Heating Up (Downton Abbey)
Title: Heating Up
Author: mrstater
Prompt: #12, sultry
Fandom: Downton Abbey
Characters & Pairings: Tom Branson/Sybil Crawley
Rating & Warnings: rated PG for mild innuendo
Word Count: 350
Summary: It's a hot day, but for Branson, it has little to do with the weather.
For possibly the first time since coming into Lord Grantham's employ, Branson heaves a reluctant sigh when Lady Sybil rings for the car. It's an absolute scorcher today, and he has no desire to roll down his shirtsleeves and button his stiff collar and put his wool chauffeur's jacket on over his already sweat-dampened shirt and leave the reasonable cool of the basement level servants' hall for the close confines of a car--even for her ladyship.
"Heavens, it's like walking into an oven," she exclaims as she steps out of the house and immediately taking a fan out of her handbag. "You must be miserable in your uniform, Branson."
"Thank you, m'lady, but I'll be fine once we're driving and making a bit of a breeze," he lies.
As he hands her up into the back seat of the car, he notices the sunlight glinting off a bead of sweat in the curve of her upper lip, and his neck prickles with a heat that makes him feel like one of the equatorial heathen wearing Lord Grantham's old collars bestowed on them by missionaries. And when the rear-view mirror affords him a glimpse of Lady Sybil dabbing at the expanse of slightly pink, glistening skin above the neckline of her frock, he knows that he could drive a hundred miles an hour and create a breeze as strong as a hurricane, but still it wouldn't have any cooling effect whatsoever.
"Are you certain you're quite comfortable, Branson?" asks Lady Sybil. "Only I think we might dispense with protocol and forgo your jacket so as to avoid heatstroke."
What was that he'd thought earlier, about being unwilling to endure an unusually hot summer's afternoon with a damp and alluring young lady? About preferring to stay in the servants' hall--with Thomas and his stinking cigarettes and cynicism--over Lady Sybil's pertness and perfume mingled with the faintest tinge of perspiration?
He turns to grin at her, this time truthful when he replies, "Never been better, m'lady."
A moment later he adds, "Though I might unbutton my collar, if you don't mind..."
Author: mrstater
Prompt: #12, sultry
Fandom: Downton Abbey
Characters & Pairings: Tom Branson/Sybil Crawley
Rating & Warnings: rated PG for mild innuendo
Word Count: 350
Summary: It's a hot day, but for Branson, it has little to do with the weather.
For possibly the first time since coming into Lord Grantham's employ, Branson heaves a reluctant sigh when Lady Sybil rings for the car. It's an absolute scorcher today, and he has no desire to roll down his shirtsleeves and button his stiff collar and put his wool chauffeur's jacket on over his already sweat-dampened shirt and leave the reasonable cool of the basement level servants' hall for the close confines of a car--even for her ladyship.
"Heavens, it's like walking into an oven," she exclaims as she steps out of the house and immediately taking a fan out of her handbag. "You must be miserable in your uniform, Branson."
"Thank you, m'lady, but I'll be fine once we're driving and making a bit of a breeze," he lies.
As he hands her up into the back seat of the car, he notices the sunlight glinting off a bead of sweat in the curve of her upper lip, and his neck prickles with a heat that makes him feel like one of the equatorial heathen wearing Lord Grantham's old collars bestowed on them by missionaries. And when the rear-view mirror affords him a glimpse of Lady Sybil dabbing at the expanse of slightly pink, glistening skin above the neckline of her frock, he knows that he could drive a hundred miles an hour and create a breeze as strong as a hurricane, but still it wouldn't have any cooling effect whatsoever.
"Are you certain you're quite comfortable, Branson?" asks Lady Sybil. "Only I think we might dispense with protocol and forgo your jacket so as to avoid heatstroke."
What was that he'd thought earlier, about being unwilling to endure an unusually hot summer's afternoon with a damp and alluring young lady? About preferring to stay in the servants' hall--with Thomas and his stinking cigarettes and cynicism--over Lady Sybil's pertness and perfume mingled with the faintest tinge of perspiration?
He turns to grin at her, this time truthful when he replies, "Never been better, m'lady."
A moment later he adds, "Though I might unbutton my collar, if you don't mind..."