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“What’s it like kissing Myrna Dalgleish?” Andy asked impertinently when he thought no one was around to hear. Except Albert, who was eagerly awaiting Mr. Dexter’s reply.
The actor chuckled. “Well...acting out a kiss is quite different from kissing someone in real life,” he said.
“I’m sure you’ve had plenty of that, though. I read you and Joan Crawford went on holiday together once.”
“And you had that romance with that Broadway starlet last year,” Albert chimed in.
“Don’t believe everything you read. I think I met Miss Colbert just once when I was on my way back to Hollywood. Someone must have taken our picture. As for Joan, there was a whole pack of us going to Las Vegas, and she’s never one to be left out. It’s not uncommon for us to be at the same place at the same time.”
“So who are you seeing?” Andy asked. “There must be somebody. I mean, you’re a famous actor!”
“Right. Did I imagine telling you lot to bring the silver down for cleaning?” Thomas interrupted before things got any more out of hand.
“Sorry, Mr. Barrow,” Albert muttered as he and Andy ran off back to work—hopefully.
Once they’d gone, Thomas put himself into speaking-to-guest mode and turned to Mr. Dexter. “My apologies if they were disturbing you, sir,” he said.
Mr. Dexter shook his head. “It’s natural for people to be curious. I know we’re a spectacle.”
“They won’t be curious in this house. I know I’m more modern than most butlers, but even I have to draw the line somewhere.”
He got a sort of funny look on his face, one Thomas had seen on him before. He was about to tease him again. “Modern? How so?”
“I don’t care if they go to the pictures, for one thing. Perhaps I ought to tighten the reins,” Thomas said, hoping the evening light was dim enough that Mr. Dexter missed his slight blush, even if they still had a few hours before sunset.
Mr. Dexter stared at him. No, not stared, really...gazed thoughtfully. Thomas was just about to excuse himself when Mr. Dexter shifted his weight to his other foot, his hands going to his pockets. “Do you have any burning questions?” he asked. “I won’t tell.”
If he had missed Thomas’s blush before, there was no avoiding it now. He chuckled uncontrollably, unable to come up with summat proper to say.
“Kissing Myrna is like shaking hands with a colleague,” Mr. Dexter volunteered. “Perhaps other men would feel differently, but that’s what it’s like for me.”
“I-I suppose you must do it often enough-”
“Not really. I do a lot of romance, but it’s not like we’re making...” he trailed off, leaving it up to Thomas’s imagination. “Well, anyway, it’s just a few kisses per film.”
Thomas felt inexplicably brave just then. Perhaps he’d gotten used to Mr. Dexter’s teasing and this...sort of feeling between them. “And in real life?” he said, having regained his composure.
“I don’t make a habit of it—kissing actresses.”
Thomas held his gaze for what felt like a long time. The makeup they had him in...Thomas gave it one thing: it made his brown eyes stand out. He wanted to ask if he kissed actors so badly, but of course that was out of the question.
Then Mr. Dexter broke protocol. “Would you like to know what it’s like?” he asked quietly.
He’d drawn closer to Thomas without him realising. Thomas could feel the vaguest warmth from his breath. He nodded, his mind entirely focused on the man in front of him.
Mr. Dexter didn’t touch him, he simply leaned forward. It was only the slightest brush of his lips against Thomas’s, but it felt like someone had plugged them into a wall socket. “Goodnight, Just Barrow,” he said, Thomas’s eyes only just fluttering open to see it as he stepped back. “Pleasant dreams.”
“Yes, sir,” Thomas said, swallowing. His heart thundering in his chest, he grabbed Mr. Dexter’s hand before he could walk away. “Wait, that’s not fair!”
Mr. Dexter raised his eyebrows, shocked no doubt. But he didn’t rip his hand away.
“That’s not how it’s done. I’ve seen it before. I go to the pictures, too, you know.” It was only then that Thomas glanced around, checking they were really alone. He could hear the film people about, but the hall was deserted at present.
“Ah- Forgive me. I fear I’ve misjudged you, Mr. Barrow,” Mr. Dexter said, his words causing Thomas’s heart to wither. But he continued, “If you’d really like to...know, is there anywhere less...”
Thomas dropped his hand, nodding. Silently, he led the way to one of the rooms that had been untouched by filming and was out of use with the family away. The maids would’ve finished with it by now and the boys had already collected the silver from it. God, was this real?
Mr. Dexter shut the door silently. He was still in his costume; people would be looking for him. He didn’t seem to care. “This house is full of extravagant places, isn’t it?” He touched the intricately carved mantle, its true beauty hidden with neither a fire underneath it nor any of the lights on. All they had was what little filtered through the cracks in the heavy drapes, creating intermittent areas of illumination in an otherwise pitch dark room.
If the light under the door wouldn’t potentially give them away, Thomas would’ve given him a tour. “Are you, er, a student of architecture?” That was a stupid question. But what else could he say? ‘Kiss me now’?
Mr. Dexter laughed. “Where are you, Mr. Barrow?” He was holding his other hand in front of him a bit, feeling the air.
Thomas had inadvertently stood in a shadow, it seemed. He reached out, taking Mr. Dexter’s hand again and pulling him toward him, into the dark. “Just here. Just Barrow.”
“Why just Barrow? Why do you want me to be that way so badly?” Once he was close enough, he laid the hand that had been on the mantle on Thomas’s shoulder blade, leaving his other clasped with Thomas’s between them in a lingering handshake.
“Be what way? Proper?”
“Why do you want me to sound like a fop?” There was a growl in his voice as his words resonated in his chest, low and sultry.
“I-”
“The others call you Mr. Barrow, don’t they? Your people? Which would you prefer, all things being equal?”
Thomas’s mind was swimming. “It doesn’t matter. You can use either; you’re a guest.”
Mr. Dexter had both hands on him now, gripping his upper arms. “But what do you want me to call you?”
How could he get past this conversation? Their time alone wasn’t unlimited, after all. “I don’t care what you call me, so long as you do,” Thomas whispered.
He heard Mr. Dexter sigh. “You’re completely maddening. And by that I mean you drive me mad, do you know that? Here.” He kissed Thomas roughly, his hold on him moving in such a way that Thomas finally recognised it as a kiss he’d give in the movies.
It was a bit strange in real life, his arms stiff and lacking the sensuality one might imagine. But he remained in that stance once he’d finished, so Thomas asked, “And in real life?”
The third time was indeed the charm. Mr. Dexter loosened up considerably, his hands going to either side of Thomas’s face, and his tongue going...
Thomas tried to find purchase on his costume, not wanting to wrinkle or disturb anything. Ultimately, he gave up and wrapped his arms around Mr. Dexter’s neck, bringing their bodies closer together than he’d wanted to. But he liked this version. He liked it quite a lot.
“You’re brilliant. You’re so brilliant,” Guy said, letting Thomas have a breath. “Sometimes, I can hardly focus when you’re around. Seeing you there, it’s- And at dinner-”
Thomas cut him off, biting his lip for him. What was he going on about? It was impossible. This sort of thing didn’t happen to Thomas. People didn’t like him. Other people got by on looks, but Thomas couldn’t ever make it last.
While Thomas was busy thinking, Mr. Dexter’s hands had wandered. One landed on the small of his back while the other reached under the tail of his jacket, finding and squeezing his arse.
Thomas broke it off, though he wasn’t sure how he felt.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean anything by it,” Mr. Dexter said, bringing his hand back up to Thomas’s back. “You’re absolutely right; we can’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“The point still stands. And that was ungentlemanly of me.”
Ungentlemanly? Thomas stared at him, his eyes having adjusted somewhat. “I’m not a lady.”
“No, but...”
“But I’m a servant,” Thomas guessed.
Mr. Dexter sighed. “You’re dignified. You know how things are meant to be. I’m afraid I’ve lost that sense, and so I apologise.”
Thomas wondered again how he ever got here. “Do you really care? I mean, how things are meant to be?”
“No. Not really,” Mr. Dexter answered, the absurdity of this situation not lost on him, either.
“And, besides, none of this is how it’s meant to be.”
“I know,” he said. “I know, it’s stupid. But it doesn’t...feel different to me. I don’t feel different. I mean, I do and I am, but why should I treat you without respect just because we’re two men? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to go into my own ridiculous philosophies. I haven’t spoken to anyone in any depth in ages.”
Thomas struggled to parse all he’d said. He was well and truly rambling, and he still held Thomas in his arms. It was awfully intimate. “I’m a stranger to it myself,” he said finally.
Mr. Dexter rested his forehead against Thomas’s. “How long do you think we can stay like this before someone sends out a search party?” he whispered.
“Not long.” They both still had things to do. Dinner, for one.
Mr. Dexter held him a bit tighter, moving his head to Thomas’s shoulder. “Well...in the spirit of towing the line between propriety and hedonism, I don’t only want to do this once.”
“What?” Thomas said automatically, opening his eyes again to look out into the shadows on the other side of the room. Kissing Guy Dexter already seemed so far-fetched, making it any sort of regular thing was unthinkable. How would they find the time? How could they avoid getting caught? And the film was nearly finished, and the rest of the family would be back soon...
Taking a steadying breath, Mr. Dexter tried to explain, “I- I want- Can I offer you something—a job, if you’d like it? I know I’m being terribly ineloquent, but I wasn’t ever sure how to broach the subject. Or, indeed, if I should try at all.”
Thomas freed himself with little resistance. He had to look Mr. Dexter in the face, to see that he was serious. “A job?” he repeated, holding him at arm’s length.
“I’d like to ask you to come back to America with me. You said you knew everything about running a house.”
“Ah- That’s not exactly what I said.”
“Yes, but...would you consider it? I don’t care if it’s the whole truth or not; I just want you with me. No one has ever made me feel the way you make me feel, just by standing there.”
Thomas was taken aback. “How do I make you feel?” he asked. He hoped he hadn’t given him some sort of impression. He did like Mr. Dexter, even fancied him, but he didn’t want him to think he was angling in any way.
Mr. Dexter covered Thomas’s hands with his own, bringing them off his shoulders to hold them. “Supported, I suppose. Like I have someone in my corner. Everyone’s at each others throats in Hollywood, whether you know it or not.”
Thomas flushed crimson. “But you don’t know me. Not really.”
“No. I think you’re capable and shrewd, but with a...a very nice soft side, too. Am I wrong?”
He shut his mouth.
“And you must be loyal. You’ve been here all this time, haven’t you? Or did you do all those jobs in other houses?”
“I have,” Thomas admitted. “I’ve only worked in one other house besides Downton, though not for lack of trying.”
“Do you want something different?”
He wanted to say yes, but it wasn’t that simple. At this point, he wasn’t sure he was even capable of leaving for good. So, he said, “I have wanted that at times.”
“Then, please, think it over. We could travel together, and see all the lovely places this world has to offer. And you would be at the helm, of course,” Mr. Dexter said. “As long as I still have my career, that is.”
Thomas could already feel his heartstrings being pulled in his direction. “You will, Mr. Dexter.”
“Guy,” he corrected. “Please.”
Thomas gave his hands a squeeze. “We should get back to...real life. I promise I’ll consider your offer,” he said.
Guy smiled. “Yes. You’re probably right. I’ll see you at dinner?”
Thomas returned it. “You always do, sir.”