Downton Abbey Save Money Love better?

Author's Note: Hi all. This fic was started a long time ago in response to the au prompt "met in Walmart checkout in the middle of the night." Or something like that. I don't have the direct prompt saved anymore, but you get the gist. I have no idea if it's good or entertaining or even at all plausible or not, so please don't be too hard on me. I wrote the first part a while ago and decided to finish it tonight because I felt like we needed some more light-hearted M/M shenanigans in the fandom. And also because I was procrastinating doing real work. And also also because I've been itching to write some fic recently, but I couldn't find the story map I created for one of my other fics that's already up on here, so I was reluctant to continue with that right now. So yeah. Anyways. Here you go. Sorry it's not better but I hope it amuses you on some level.

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Lady Mary Crawley tapped her foot impatiently against the grungy tile floor again as she flipped through one of the cheap magazines by the register. The current page of the tabloid, which she was barely skimming, displayed a cheap conglomeration of paparazzi photos, along with criticizing comments about the "astonishingly average" clothing of the stars in them.

Ha. If they could only see her now. The ice-cold, extremely refined Lady Mary Crawley, chief editor of _À La Mode_, _Vogue_'s biggest competitor, standing with no makeup, sneakers, and hair in a ponytail in line at Walmart at 2am. They'd have a field day for weeks.

Although any person would certainly rather be in bed at this time, the circumstances really didn't bother her as much as the appearance of them. As her granny had been telling her for years, "It's the look of the thing that matters." And as a fashion expert, Mary had spent years developing her "look," both on and off the runway. That "look" involved pushing the snobby, posh, entitled side of her name to gain respect and authority in the fashion world.  
>That look most certainly did not involve American department stores in the middle of the night.<p>

Thankfully, it seemed, the paparazzi did sleep. She had yet to see a single camera take a snap at her, despite having waited in this line for at least 15 minutes. Apparently this wasn't a normal, occurrence, but there'd been a glitch in the system effectively shutting down the other three working registers. Under other circumstances she would have left ages ago, but she had already stuck it out this long... And she really needed this pack of condoms. Well, technically speaking _she_ didn't need them. She wasn't seeing anyone, and she wasn't the type for a one night stand, no matter what the pages of people magazine suggested otherwise. But the office team of à la mode which Anna was a part of had a tradition that before the start of every award season, which was sure to be filled with many glamorous press conferences, parties, and galas, one member bought a bulk pack of condoms to distribute to the rest of the team. Anna had been chosen for the honor this year, but she was out sick with a cold, lying depressingly in the hotel. While technically Anna was Mary's assistant, she also happened to be Mary's best friend, and thus Mary offered to go in her stead. Unfortunately, to avoid the salacious rumors of the press, this also constituted the need for a covert 2am shopping trip.

Thankfully, despite the unexpectedly long line - the inconvenience of having only three cash registers open - the general patronage of Walmart seemed uninterested in conversing with other customers at the late hour.

"You know, I've always found the amount of attention people devote to what others wear quite ridiculous."

Or not.

Mary stiffened and turned towards the source of the voice.

Her eyes were about lip level, tracing up his stupidly handsome face to a pair of bright blue eyes that flicked keenly from the page over her shoulder to her own. In other circumstances she might have found the present opportunity for interaction almost as attractive as the man before her, but given the current circumstance: the absurdly late hour, her deplorable task, the remaining weight of jet lag, and now the indirect slight on her profession, she was rather displeased.

Biting her lip, she gave him a gradual once-over, taking in the nondescript navy shirt, off-brand jeans, and beat-up trainers (while attempting to ignore how tightly the first item stretched across his chest and how well the second hung on his hips), she allotted what she deemed to be a considerable pause before replying with a thoughtful hum, "Yes, I can see why _you_ might think that."

He started, blushing a bit, while something seemed to crackle in his eyes. She tried to ignore how becoming the color in his face was and turned back around.

"My apologies, I didn't realize Walmart now had a dress code, your ladyship," he replied, sounding a bit affronted, but tapering his tone from anger into laughter as he smirked at her.

Mary glared back at him. "Not a dress code, but I'm sure a bit of class never goes out of style. And honestly? Are you really pulling the whole snobby lords and ladies card as your best material? Do you think I haven't heard that joke enough in the past few days from the Americans, without you getting involved too?"

She didn't know if it was the worn tone slipping into her voice, slightly cracking it after a marathon of exhausting days, or her actual commentary on the un-originality of his comment, but he looked somewhat abashed. "I'm sorry, you're right. It's not often I meet one of my fellow countrymen in this strange, new world," he remarked, nodding to the rows and rows of shelves overstocked with mountains of plastic items reflecting off the off-white floor in a wholeistically artificial manner. "Let's start over again. My name is Matthew Crawley," he smiled, extending his hand.

She regarded it with a look of skepticism and disdain before responding, "Lady Mary Crawley," before turning back to her magazine, certain that would be the end of the conversation. While a second later she questioned the wisdom of revealing her full moniker, she doubted it would ring any bells with him.

"_Lady_ Mary Crawley? So I was right, then?"

Oh shit. She braced herself for the onslaught of embarrassing questions and autograph requests as she turned around yet again.  
>"You are a lady actually. So my comments were not that off point."<p>

She rolled her eyes. "Fine, yes. It wasn't technically wrong… but it's bloody annoying."

"And Crawley," he continued on, unperturbed, beaming at her. He was too damn happy for this time of day. "What a coincidence! Think there might be anything to that?"

Appraising him again, she responded in a clipped tone, "I doubt it."

"Well thank goodness," he responded just as smoothly.

Her eyes flicked up to him, startled. "And just why might that be?"

"Because it'd be a shame if I were related to someone like you."

"Someone like me?" Mary repeated forcefully, her indignation rising.

"Yes, you know… beautiful," he continued daringly with a wink.

Mary's mouth hung open. She had _not_ been expecting that.

Matthew continued, looking slightly embarrassed at his admission. "So what brings you out here at this time of night?"

Luckily the line chose this moment to move forward, so Mary was spared from immediately answering as she slowly shuffled closer to escape behind the pack of unruly teenagers attempting to corral four hundred boxes of baked goods, candies, and pepperoni sticks towards the scanner. One of them dropped a pack of gummy worms. Attempting to further dodge interaction with Matthew, Mary mader herself busy bending to scoop up the candies. Unfortunately, the pack of condoms, which she had so strategically concealed behind the tabloid magazine, slipped and fell to the ground as well.

She was in the midst of handing back the girls' castaway possessions, and thus unable to intervene before Matthew declared, "I'll get those."

He bent swiftly, but she watched in unease as his hand hovered over the box, before gingerly plucking them off of the floor and slowly standing back up.

"You… erm… you… you dropped these," he explained, awkwardly offering them back to her. His eyes ping-ponged between her own gaze and somewhere just to the left of her face, jolting her each time they made contact, and she watched as a blush again rose, bringing the pinkness in his cheeks slowly up to the already brilliant shade of the tips of his ears.

Neither had yet surpassed the deep red of mortification that splashed her own cheeks and neck.

"Thank you," she responded, trying to ignore the slide of his skin against hers as she swiftly snagged the package back and attempted to conceal it. They continued to face each other for a moment in awkward silence - he rubbing the back of his neck, she clutching and unclutching the magazine to her chest, before he broke the silence again.

"I'm… I'm sorry… that I upset you earlier, if you felt that I was… coming on to you in anyway. I didn't… see any ring, but I realize that was quite… presumptuous… of me, to monopolize your time and attentions when you clearly have… other places you'd, erm, like to be… and another, erm, special person in your life."

"Oh no I don't," she responded quickly, awkwardly, drawing those mesmerizing her eyes to her face from where they had been fastidiously studying his shoes. His brow lifted in awkward inquiry, and she saw his lips struggle to form the words of the question she had just inspired. "These aren't for me," she added quickly, to spare them both the pain of that inquiry.

"Ah," he replied, as if that explained everything. "Just picking them up for a… friend?" he continued, and even she had to admit the story sounded hollow.

"Something like that," she continued in a non-committed manner. "My friend is a bit indisposed at the moment."

"Yes, I could imagine."

"Not like that!" she interjected. "She's sick in bed, but she needed to pick some up for a dare. It's a bit of a long story."

"Well, you're quite a good friend to uh… help her out with such a mission. Not all of us have friends who are quite so selfless. She's lucky to have you," he smiled at her.

She tried to ignore the small rush of joy she felt bubbling up at that little half-grin "Hardly. If you knew Anna, you'd be completely reversing your statement and then some," Mary smiled back, uncertain where this sudden flash of honesty was coming from. Then again, it was hard to be insincere where Anna was involved.

"Oh, I don't know about that. From this brief interlude, I'd say you have one or two redeeming qualities about you, and I'm sure if I spent some more time with you, I'd discover a few more things."

"What kind of things?" she breathed at him, raising an eyebrow in playful inquiry, daring him to continue to play the game.

"All sorts of things," he replied, his eyes smoldering at her. "However, it's a shame we'll never get to find out, unless…"

"Unless what?" The cramped aisles suddenly felt devoid of everyone but him.

"Unless you get coffee with me after we're done here." His voice reached a dangerously husky level.

"Heavens. Coffee at this hour?" she tried to fight back the sudden excitement rising in her. What a turn this had taken.

"Let me introduce you to another 24-hour American wonder: the Dunkin Donuts," he chuckled at her.

"Well, if you insist, Mr. Crawley, however un-English of you it seems to be suggesting coffee at this hour."

"Who better to turn astray with than one of my fellow Brits?" he smiled, picking up both of their plastic bags from the turnstile. She realized they had breezed through the check-out without it registering; she didn't even remember handing over her card.

"Lead the way, then," she smiled, walking slightly too close to him, their arms bumping as they strolled out of the store, the sliding doors swiftly whooshing shut behind them.

-

"Mary! You had better look at this!"

Mary groaned, snuggling defiantly closer to the hotel pillow. Her date with Matthew had lasted far longer than expected last night… not that any part of it had been expected.

"Mary!" Anna's frantic yet sick-strained voice called again.

Groaning, she pried herself slowly from the pillow. "I'm coming." She had barely lifted herself from the bed when Anna shoved the morning newspaper in front of her nose.

"I'm so so sorry!" she apologized.

Mary blinked back sleep, rubbing her eyes and the hair out of her face. Seeing her name splashed across the page, she half-rolled over, muttering, "What? So they got some photos of me in normal person clothes for once? It's not ideal, but I don't really see why they're having a field day over it. You don't have to apologize, darling."  
>"No, Mary, look!"<p>

Mary turned her attention to the page again and froze.

LADY MARY GETS DOWN AND DIRTY WITH MYSTERIOUS MAN read the main headline.  
>SEXY SHENANIGANS IN THE SUPERCENTER detailed the second caption underneath a picture of her and Matthew grinning at each other, the box of condoms clearly visible between them.<br>"Oh dear God."

"I told you. Honestly I don't know how they can live with this crap on their consciences. And now they're dragging random bystanders into it. I'm so sorry, Mary."

"Really, Anna, it's not your fault. I just feel bad for Matthew. I should text him?" she reached for her phone on her bedside stand.

"Matthew? Who's Matthew?!" Anna exclaimed. Mary froze in the realization of what she had inadvertently revealed. She chose to ignore Anna for the final possible seconds, instead scrolling through the mountain of messages on her phone until she found her conversation with Matthew.

He had already texted her.

_So apparently there is a dress code for Walmart, Lady Mary. _

_Yes, apparently we're quite the fashion catastrophe. So sorry about this,_ she hastily apologized.

_We'll just have to redeem ourselves when I take you out for dinner ;)_

"WHO IS MATTHEW?" shrieked Anna again, even as Mary's smile blossomed.


End file.

Downton Abbey, Humor, Romance