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hayleythesugarbowl · 11 months ago

Note

hey I don’t know if you’re still writing for Thomas barrow but if you are can you write one where the female reader is the one who finds Thomas kissing Jimmy instead of Alfred? And maybe the reader and Thomas are kind of enemies before that? But she covers for him/helps him anyways? Thank you so much I love your Thomas barrow series 💌

Even || Thomas Barrow & female!reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • thomas barrow masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

summary: when you, a ladies maid who thomas has never got along with in the past, catch thomas making a move on jimmy you’re forced to decide wether or not to help him out

word count: 3.4k

warning: mild cursing, homophobia because it’s jimmy, speaking of which also jimmy slander if you squint

a/n: ok I’m sorry it took me so long to get to this!! I actually had an idea similar to this so thank you so much for requesting this love <3💌🍒💋

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Miss (Y/l/n)?”

You looked up from your stitching to see a man staring down at you.

Thomas Barrow.

His eyebrows were raised expectantly and you fought the urge to roll your eyes as he waited for you to acknowledge him.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” You prompted.

“Mrs. Hughes is looking for you. Something about one of Her Ladyship’s evening gowns.”

You smiled your sweetest smile up at the footman-turned-valet.

“Well, I appreciate you passing along the message,” you said as you continued to hem the skirt you were working on.

Still, Thomas didn’t leave. “You’d best get going, don’t you think? Mrs. Hughes sounded pretty urgent and I wouldn’t want you to get involved in any unfortunate circumstance.”

“No you wouldn’t,” you muttered under your breath sarcastically as you got up and walked down the hall.

You and Thomas didn’t exactly get on, to put it mildly. Honestly you’d be surprised if Mrs. Hughes even needed you and it wasn’t all just a ploy by Thomas to waste your time. It wouldn’t be the first time, you thought sardonically.

From the moment you arrived at the Abbey, Thomas had began his life’s mission of forever tormenting you and making your work at Downton just a little bit harder. You had tried to be friendly to him at first, but to no avail for he seemed determined to let you know that you didn’t belong here.

Not that he was particularly amiable with any of the downstairs staff, but he seemed to especially have it out for you.

Most likely because you were the only one who challenged. He wasn’t the only one who could come up with sabotaging schemes.

And he did have so many bloody schemes.

Like the time right after you’d been hired when he’d convinced you that even though you weren’t a part of the kitchen staff, you needed to pick up some groceries for Mrs. Patmore. He sent you into town and you’d been lost for hours searching before you’d ran into Anna—bless her heart—who told you that the grocer was on the other side of town and the delivery wasn’t even supposed to be ready for another week.

You’d gotten him back (with some help from Mrs. O’Brien, who’d been feeling particularly miffed at Thomas that day and was willing to return the favor in any way she could) by shrinking His Lordship’s trousers.

The furious yet shocked look on his face—like he’d finally found a worthy competitor—still brought a smile to your face on particularly dark days.

Needless to say, your relationship had been filled with nothing but stiff quips, scathing remarks, and the occasional act of sabotage since then.

You reached your destination and peered into Mrs. Hughes office.

“Mr. Barrow said you needed me?”

“And Mr. Barrow would be right,” Mrs. Hughes agreed, turning to you and smiling wryly. “I can’t make heads or tails of this gown.”

You picked up the mess of fabric she had gestured to and set to work mending. The skirt you were working on could wait.

As you turned the dress over, you couldn’t help but smirk to yourself. Thomas? Truthful for once?

He must have some ulterior motive.

You’d be surprised if the skirt was still there when you got back—or if it didn’t have significantly more holes than when you’d left it.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

You walked into the servants hall the next morning, tired as hell from working on Her Ladyship’s gown all night.

You practically fell into your chair as Daisy came around and poured your tea. You thanked her absentmindedly as you began to nibble on some toast.

“Don’t you look nice, Miss (Y/l/n),” Thomas smiled at you but it was all but a compliment.

O’Brien smirked beside him and you narrowed your eyes at both of them.

“Nice of you to take notice,” you shot back.

“Is it a crime, to butter up one’s coworker?” He kept eye contact with you as he stirred his tea slowly.

“Depends who’s doing the buttering,” you leveled your gaze at his dark eyes.

“Speaking of butter, can we get any around here?”

A blond man sauntered into the room, taking a seat at the servants table and looking around at the present company. You felt Thomas shift across from you.

“I’m serious, just because we’re working class don’t mean we have to eat turnips and bread our whole lives.”

“I beg your pardon, I didn’t know the King of England was visiting,” O’Brien mumbled.

“Only saying,” Jimmy said. “I’d like to be able to eat what I like, when I like without being an earl or a duke.”

Jimmy Kent. The newest addition to the well-oiled machine that was Downton Abbey. And how could you forget? What, with all of the maids talking of nothing else since he arrived. You agreed that he was pleasant looking, but he was too much of a flirt for your liking.

He leaned back in his chair, as if daring anyone to contradict him.

“And what would you like to eat, Jimmy?” Thomas glanced over at him.

“All of England, if it pleases me.”

“I’ll put in a good word with Mrs. Patmore,” Thomas smiled at Jimmy and you were baffled at how it actually looked genuine.

In fact, Thomas had seemed to take a liking to Jimmy from the moment he arrived. He was about the only person who Thomas treated like an equal.

He must be using him, you thought. Trying to lure him into the trap of friendship before getting him fired or something of the like.

“You most certainly will not,” Mrs. Patmore answered, walking into the room. “The moment I start taking requests from you lot—”

“Is a moment that will not happen anytime soon,” Mr. Carson cut in from the head of the table glancing authoritatively at all of the servants finishing their breakfast.

“Why would Mrs. Patmore take your word anyway,” you looked to Thomas, “When anything you recommend is likely to be made of cement?”

“Feisty this morning, are we? Bold for the girl who, as I recall, left the Duchess of Frescershire quite unhappy with a dress that very likely felt like cement.” Thomas spat.

Your hand made a fist and you yearned to climb across the table and use it, but you checked yourself and only glared at the man across from you.

Thomas raised an eyebrow at you, standing up and glancing in Jimmy’s direction before turning around and heading down the hall.

“I think I’ll be going also,” O’Brien left her seat quickly, giving a small smile, her eyes following Thomas’s as she walked to catch up to him.

Likely plotting, you thought. Well, let them to it. The last thing you needed to be doing right now in your tired state was wasting energy thinking about Thomas Barrow.

You finished your tea, exiting the room and preparing for your days work. The girls were already dressed, so you could devote your time to downstairs work for the time being.

You passed Thomas and O’Brien in the hall, both of which quickly stiffened their posture and looked at you as you walked past, ceasing their very obvious confidence. But not before you heard the words certain, return, and Jimmy.

You didn’t even want to bother figuring out what they were gossiping about. Nothing good, you knew that. Best to stay out of it while you still could.

Thomas had nearly gotten you sacked a number of times and it wasn’t going to happen again.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

Sleep. It was all you could think about as you walked down the hall, having finished your days work and being ever so ready to hit the hay.

Everyone else had already gone to bed and you were the last to leave the servants hall. You were almost to your room, thinking of how to avoid waking the maid that you shared your room with, when someone called your name.

“Miss (Y/l/n)?”

“Mrs. Hughes.” You greeted her.

“Do you have minute?”

“I suppose I do.”

“I don’t like to ask you to do this, but Lady Mary has asked to have her purple evening gown from last season ready to wear tomorrow. I would ask one of the footmen as it’s through the men’s corridors, but you’re the only servant still awake—”

You internally cursed Lady Mary. Out loud you weakly said, “Straight away, Mrs. Hughes.”

You supposed it worked out for the best. As it turned out, Thomas had done something with the skirt you’d been mending—which just so happened to be needed by Lady Edith the next day—and it might give you a chance to see if he’d hidden it anywhere where he thought you would never go.

You didn’t say any of this to Mrs. Hughes though, you just smiled and walked in the opposite direction.

The male servant’s corridor was dark and you had trouble finding your way around without a lantern. You could make out the outlines of doorways, the doors all shut tight for the nighttime.

Now which door was the storage room?

You found it fairly quickly considering the circumstance and sorted through until you found the aforementioned dress.

Now, to reward yourself, you thought, a little snooping was in order.

You walked farther down the hall to what you assumed were the bedrooms.

Again, the doors were all closed and most likely locked. You cursed under your breath. You were staring to head back before your eye caught on a glint of light spilling into the hallway from the far end of the corridor.

You headed farther into the hall and you saw it. A door, propped open just enough to see that there was someone standing in it, their form outlined by the moonlight.

You crept closer, peering through the gap.

Thomas. His back was to you, but you could see him slowly inching closer to a bed on the far wall.

Except, he wasn’t alone. You could barely make out someone already sleeping. The room appeared to only have one bed, not a shared room, you thought.

Which meant—

You heard a cry. A rustle of blankets. You dared to open the door just a little bit more.

“What in the bloody hell—”

You looked up in time to see Thomas leaning over Jimmy, a look of pure horror and shock on the latter’s face. Thomas backed up quickly, while Jimmy stood in outrage.

“Did you just try to—” Jimmy’s surprise quickly turned to anger as he took a step towards the other man.

Your mind could hardly work fast enough, watching all of this unfold. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. If this was what you thought it was—

You weren’t paying attention and you leaned forwards, your foot stepping on a creaky board—curse this old house—and alerting both men. Thomas turned around and his eyes landed on yours.

“Miss (Y/l/n), this isn’t what it looks like, alright? If you think I invited him, than you’re mistaken.” Jimmy looked flustered and you looked from him to Thomas.

Thomas opened his mouth, as if to say something. He looked pained and miserable.

You almost forgot yourself and felt bad for him.

He tried to say something again but instead just looked from you to Jimmy and then rushed out of the room.

You couldn’t do anything but follow him.

“Mr. Barrow—”

Abruptly, he stopped and turned around to face you. His posture was straight and he spoke as is if he were discussing the weather.

“You got what you wanted, didn’t you, Miss (Y/l/n)?”

You didn’t respond.

“I’m sure you’d just love to see me sacked, wouldn’t you?” Thomas bit out.

“Now—”

“Go on, tell Mr. Carson. Tell His Lordship. Tell the bloody King. Finally got an excuse to see the end of me. I reckon no one’ll even bat an eye, neither.”

Even in the dark, could see the pain and loneliness and fear in his expression that he was trying to hide with his harsh words.

You’d imagined the moment Thomas Barrow would get thrown out on his ear many a time. You’d always pictured the way you’d smirk as he left Downton for the last time. How you’d shout ‘good riddance’ for all to hear. You’d conjured up a million different circumstances just like this.

Except never like this. Not with Thomas weak, practically giving up. You couldn’t say it didn’t sound appealing, getting rid of him. You had the advantage. But suddenly, you didn’t want it.

“You must think more of me than that, Mr. Barrow.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” his voice was rough.

“I mean, I better get back with this dress ‘fore they send a search party.”

You started to walk past Thomas, but he stepped in front of you.

“So, that’s it? No victory speech?” Thomas glared down at you.

You had the urge to slap the look off his face but you took a deep breath.

“Victory over what? I didn’t see nothing to make me victorious. And by that, I mean I didn’t see nothing at all.”

You winked at him once leaving him standing there to process that as you hurried back in the direction you came.

You nearly laughed at the turn of events as you found your way back in the dark. You, covering for Thomas Barrow.

Never in your wildest dreams…

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

The next day, Thomas could hardly look at you. Whenever he rounded a corner and found you on the other side, he stopped, looked like he wanted to speak to you, and then hurried on past.

You didn’t exactly expect him to bake you a cake or nothing, but you supposed a decent thank you was in order for saving his arse.

However, for all he wasn’t looking at you, he was looking at Jimmy. Except this time, instead of the look of friendship (or more, you supposed) it was now a look of apprehension.

Most likely afraid Jimmy would take his story himself to Mr. Carson.

And you didn’t see any reason why he wouldn’t. From the look of him, you thought as you sat across from him at the servants table, he looked ready to pounce.

Before you could stop yourself and advise against it, you walked up to him. “Jimmy, may I have a word?”

You couldn’t have your one act of kindness ruined by any loose ends.

As Jimmy followed you into the boot room you felt O’Brien’s eyes on you and promptly ignored them.

You got straight to the point, “I wish to talk about what happened last night.”

“I bloody don’t,” Jimmy responded, his eyes flashing, “it was awful, that’s what it was.”

“It was a misunderstanding,” you supplied.

The footman scoffed, “No, I think I understood perfectly alright.”

“What I mean to say is, I hope you don’t plan to make this misunderstanding something bigger than it is.”

“I have to tell the police, that’s what I have to do! I’ve been talking to Miss O’Brien and—”

“And I hope you see how ill advised that would be,” you finished.

He raised an eyebrow at you.

“You wouldn’t want to seem like you were mixed up in…something of that nature.”

“I don’t understand,” Jimmy said.

“You wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re in on anything disgusting, would you?”

Personally, you didn’t find anything particularly disgusting about the whole situation. You figured Thomas could kiss whoever he liked, for all you cared as long as it wasn’t you. But you knew that wasn’t going to work with Jimmy.

“Well no but—”

“Because if you go around spinning your story, someone down the line is bound to think you weren’t all against it, if you know what I’m getting at,” you said.

A look of horror passed Jimmy’s face.

“And besides I don’t think you’re the kind of person who would want to get a man fired, are you?”

He paused. “Why do you care if I get Mr. Barrow sacked? You don’t seem to get on with him anyways.”

“Oh, I don’t care what happens to Mr. Barrow,” you said with a smirk, “I just wouldn’t want this unfortunate incident to cause more of a quagmire for anyone than is necessary.”

Jimmy nodded, “Well, I wouldn’t want anyone’s reputation ruined for it I suppose.”

You smiled.

“And by that, I can’t pretend I don’t mean my own,” he added.

“Who knows,” you said, “you and Barrow might end up being friends eventually.”

“Friends?” He sounded incredulous, “I doubt it.”

“I think there’s more to Thomas than meets the eye,” you said cryptically. “Either way, think about what I said.”

He looked at you a moment, pondering, before nodding at you and leaving the room quickly.

You breathed out a sigh.

“Well, that was quite the speech, Miss (Y/l/n).”

You whirled around, finding Thomas standing in the doorway. How much of your conversation with Jimmy had he heard?

“And what are you doing here, Mr. Barrow? I can’t say following Jimmy around like a lost puppy is well advised anymore.”

Thomas clenched his teeth, looking at you. “It is a public place, isn’t it?”

You were both silent for a moment, as you calculated what to say next. Mr. Barrow beat you to it.

“I wanted to say thank you,” it looked like it cause him pain to say the words to you, his sworn nemesis.

“I would have been sacked if it weren’t for you, though I still can’t quite understand why you did it, and I thank you for it,” he finished. “I’m not sure I deserve it, but I’m grateful.”

“Well, I can’t say it’s not entirely out of self interest,” you said, straightening, “seeing as I can’t torture you if you’re gone, I saw no reason to be the one to end that.”

Thomas almost smiled. “That was quite an act of deception you pulled with Jimmy.”

“Would you believe me if I said I learned from the best?”

“Now, I’m not sure I deserve your compliments as well as your pity,” Thomas said.

“Really, there’s no need to think yourself so special. I was speaking of Miss O’Brien.”

Thomas let out a laugh and you couldn’t help but smile at him. He wasn’t all bad, you could see that. And you couldn’t imagine Downton without him now that you had been faced with the possibility.

“Well, I hope you don’t expect us to be friendly now,” you warned, to break the silence and whatever the spell that had fallen over you two was that made you act most unlike yourselves. Sharing a companionable silence? Never!

“I wouldn’t wish being your friend on my worst enemy, let alone take part in it myself.” Thomas brushed invisible lint off of his jacket.

You rolled your eyes at him, but it didn’t hold any real conviction.

“Well, I suppose I ought to get on with my work,” you said, moving past Thomas. “Wouldn’t want to get behind on your account.”

“You are a queer woman, aren’t you?” Thomas said not unkindly.

“I could say the same to you.”

You turned around, your tone more serious than it had just been

“And for what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re disgusting, Mr. Barrow.”

Thomas was silent.

“Horrid and self-serving and haughty and a pain in my rear end. But not disgusting.”

“I could say the same to you,” Thomas echoed your earlier statement.

You left without another word.

You didn’t think that you and Thomas would be companions, exactly. But you left that room with a greater fondness for him that you’d ever felt. You understood him more, if nothing else.

And you thought you could guess he felt a little of the same way too.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

The next morning, as you began your day by checking the work you’d left out the night before, you found a new lump of fabric atop the pile.

You picked it up and let the cloth fall through your fingers.

It was the skirt you were working at from earlier this week. Barely recognizable, however. It was mended, certainly. The holes were fixed and the hem had been replaced. It looked brand new, better than anything you could have done.

Thomas.

It must have been him. You found yourself smiling to yourself.

“Well then, I suppose we’re even, Mr. Barrow, aren't we?” you mumbled.

Except for the fact that him taking it in the first place had delayed you getting the skirt to Lady Edith by a day.

But you’d get him back somehow, you thought, smiling.

You always did.

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ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you enjoyed this babes!! check out my thomas barrow series if you want more of him and have a great day 💐🍓🩰

#thomas barrow #thomas barrow x friend!reader #thomas barrow x reader #downton abbey #jimmy kent #fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #x reader

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