Thomas Barrow, Jimmy Kent, Alfred Nugent, Downton Abbey
Title: Lesson Learned

Thomas struggled out of a deep sleep. It was early, far too early to be awake. His head hurt, his mouth was dry and his stomach was dancing about like water on a hot griddle. He sat up carefully and looked around the room. In one corner he spotted a pile of clothes. Fuck. My livery. Didn't I hang it up? Carson will have a conniption if I show up with it creased. He swung his feet over the edge of the bed, but instead of landing on the floor they hit something soft. Something that moved.

"Owww, that`s my stomach, you big oaf."

Half scared out of his wits, he almost levitated back onto the bed, then peered over its edge.

"Jimmy? What on earth are you doing down there?"

"Well, I was sleeping."

That didn't help Thomas at all.

"On the floor of my room? Why?"

Jimmy sat up, but toppled to one side, smacking his head on the edge of the bed frame.

"Jesus! That'll mark." He ran his hands through his hair, attempting to straighten it but only succeeding in making it stand on end.

"From what I can remember this was as far as I could get. You and your bloody scotch."

Snippets from the night seeped back into Thomas's head. The village, something about the pub, the bottle of scotch in his bottom drawer. He looked around again and saw not one, but two empty bottles lined up on his desk. Oh, that can't be right. One was a quarter full and I hadn't touched the other one.

"Did we drink those?" He nodded at the bottles. "Why aren't we dead?"

"Alfred helped."

It took a few seconds for that that to sink in.

"Alfred?" Thomas asked, louder than he had intended.

"Yeah. What?

As Alfred lurched upright on the other side of the bed, Thomas fell out, landing on top of Jimmy.

"Get off, you git." He pushed at Thomas until he dumped him unceremoniously on the floor beside him.

Thomas got to his knees and crawled to the dresser where he used an open drawer to help himself to his feet. His head swam - now he remembered why as he looked at the two men flanking his bed. Drink does make for strange bedfellows.

"Jimmy, where are your trousers?"

Jimmy looked down and shrugged.

"Damned if I know. Over there with your stuff? At least I didn't sleep in them." He looked at Thomas and broke into a broad smile. "And at least I'm wearing something."

"Wha...?" Thomas looked down. Shit! He quickly folded his hands, trying to hide himself, and turned away.

When caught his reflection in the mirror he blinked a few times before reaching up to his hair.

"What the hell happened? Where's my hair?"

Jimmy glanced at Alfred and they both burst out laughing.

"You fell asleep first."
Tongue-in-cheek inspired by an interview done during filming of S4 Downton Abbey. Questions arose as to why he had short hair when it didn't seem appropriate for the time or his character

I almost titled this "Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow" but even I can't sink that low.