Chapter XXVI

London, April 1851

"Kurt."

There is a voice calling him over a loud, rattling noise, but it's coming from far away. Kurt sighs and turns his face to where it's resting on soft fabric, determined to fall back into a light stage of slumber, to give into the rocking motions of his surroundings.

"Kurt!" Suddenly, there is a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently, but firmly. "Kurt, wake up."

With a sharp intake of breath, Kurt sits up, wincing when he bangs the back of his head against something hard. "Oh, what…?"

"Careful," another voice says, softer than the first. "Don't startle him, Nick."

Blinking, Kurt rubs the back of his head as his surroundings come into view. Nick is sitting next to him, his hand still on Kurt's shoulder while Jane is perched on the bench opposite from them, her face a bright oval in the gloomy carriage. There are other people in the carriage with them: a grumpy-looking man who glares at Kurt from under the rim of his hat, two young women with packages on their knees and an older matron who doesn't look up from her knitting. Kurt doesn't recall any of them entering the carriage, but the last stop he remembers was when they changed coaches at Longcross in the bright afternoon. The little bit of sky he can see through the window now has turned grey and orange, and Kurt realises he must have slept for more than two hours.

"Where are we?" he asks, clearing his throat when his voice sounds raspy from disuse.

"Nearly at Hyde Park," Nick replies. "We just drove by Knightsbridge."

Those names mean nothing to Kurt, but he immediately catches their meaning.

London.

Instantly, Kurt sits up straight and tries to peer out of the dirty window. The stagecoach is moving at a leisurely pace, most likely due to the fact that the street, even at this late hour, is absolutely crowded. People with carts, carriages, coaches all bustle on the busy street. The houses lining the narrow walkway are tall, made of sturdy white or red bricks and built so close together that only the doors indicate where one house begins and another one ends. The street is already illuminated by gaslight, every lamp flickering in the grey evening. The noise, barely filtered through the coach door, is impressive, and… Kurt wrinkles his nose. "What is that smell?" he asks.

The grumpy-looking man opposite him starts laughing, the sound more a bark than a chuckle. "Country boy, ay? Don't worry, your nose will grow used to the fine stench of our city soon enough."

Kurt frowns, not sure whether he likes the designation "country boy", though he can't dispute its truth. For the umpteenth time he wishes they could have travelled all the way in the carriage with Howard and Jonathan, but the roads had been muddy from the spring rainstorms, and one of the carriage wheels got stuck in the mud and broke, causing some of the luggage and all of the travellers to tumble down into the dirt. Kurt absentmindedly brushes his hand over his trousers, their fabric stained with mud.

This is not the first impression he wanted to make on the city.

Abruptly, the carriage pulls to a halt and all travellers have to grab a hold of the benches to remain seated. "Green Park corner," comes the booming voice of the coachman, who bangs the site of the carriage for emphasis. Nick nudges Kurt. "That's us."

Jane opens the door and hops down in front of the carriage and Kurt follows, wincing when his legs protest after the long hours spent cramped inside the carriage. Outside, the stench is almost overwhelming. Kurt can smell mud, sweat, urine, horse manure, rotten fruit, smoke and brackish water, mingling together so strongly that he feels nauseous for a moment. He doesn't have much time to dwell on it because suddenly his suitcase lands in front of his feet, splattering his shoes with new mud and who knows what else.

"That's all?" the coachman asks and when Nick and Jane nod he cracks his whip and the carriage pulls away.

"Well, here we are," Jane says and stretches her arms over her head before she bends down and grabs her suitcase, while Kurt has a moment to inspect where "here" actually is. The busy, gas-lit street is lined by large houses on one side facing a park on the opposite side, right where Kurt and the others are standing. An iron fence protects the greenery from unwanted visitors and the rustling of tree branches in the evening breeze stirs a strange longing for the woods near Bailey Hall inside Kurt.

"Stop it with the wide eyes," Nick grumbles, "You really need to lose the country boy look as quickly as possible. The city isn't kind to people who look like fresh meat."

"Stop frightening him," Jane says and rolls her eyes while Kurt glares at Nick. "That's Green Park," she says and points at the fence. "Buckingham Palace and St. James's Park are right on the other side and you have a lovely view of everything from Minerva House."

Nick nods and nudges Kurt to pick up his luggage. "But of course, our entrance is not that way," he says and begins to march down the street. Kurt hurries along behind him and Jane and tries to adapt to their gait: chin up, back straight, eyes on the road in front of them. And yet he can't help but glance at the people they're walking past: a man selling newspapers, two women cradling children in their arms, two elegant men in an open carriage, dressed for a night on the town and laughing as they drive by.

"Minerva House is barely twenty years old," Jane says as they turn right and into a quieter street. "Lord Smythe's grandmother had it built when his father announced his engagement, as a wedding present."

"But it's not the house that Lord Smythe's father… that burned down, is it?" Kurt asks.

"No," Nick replies. "After his wife's death, he couldn't bear to stay at Minerva House, so he took lodgings at the Strand. That's the house that burned down, and ever since, our Lordship has been staying at Minerva House." He elbows Kurt to indicate that they have to turn right once again.

"Which is so much better," Jane says. "Because say what you want about the Dowager countess, but she made sure to have all the luxuries. We have gas lamps and, since the renovations last year, running water in the kitchen and bathrooms – you cannot imagine how much I'll enjoy not carrying water buckets up eight flights of stairs for the next months."

"And here we are." Nick says. He and Jane let their suitcases drop down onto the cobblestones, though never letting go of the handles. They've stopped before a small gate in a brick wall, dark iron against red stone. Behind it Kurt can just make out the outline of a large house, though considerably smaller than Bailey Hall. It's three or four stories tall and free-standing, a considerable distance from the neighbouring mansions. Its windows are dark, but there is a small light coming from a modest door – the servants' entrance.

"Come on," Jane says, opening the black iron gate and entering. Her feet making a crunching sound on the sandy walkway leading up to the door. "They'll be expecting us."


It is not just the rest of the household that is expecting them, but there is also a warm meal waiting for them on the sturdy kitchen table: a rich-smelling stew and brown, crispy bread, still warm from the oven.

"You're lucky you're late, or there wouldn't have been bread at all," the cook grumbles. She's a stout woman in her late thirties with pale wisps of hair escaping her cap, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows to show her impressively strong arms. Her expression and tone are grumpy, but she winks at them and Jane just laughs and kisses her cheek, "It's good to see you, Mrs Davies."

The housekeeper, Mrs Abbot, is a tall woman in a severe black dress, taller than Kurt and maybe even taller than Sebastian, which impresses Kurt more than her firm handshake and her stern expression.

"I have not expected Mr Moore to remain at Bailey Hall," is how she addresses Nick. "But I am not unhappy about it. I know you'll live up to your responsibilities, Nicholas." Nick smiles and says, "With your help, I just may, Mrs Abbot" and Kurt decides that he likes this stern lady.

They then turn to the cluster of young girls waiting behind Mrs Davies, who rolls her eyes and shoos them forward.

"Listen up girls," Mrs Abbot exclaims, "These are Nicholas, Lord Smythe's butler and valet, and Kurt, one of the footmen. They have been working for his Lordship for several years and are to be obeyed under any circumstance. But, most importantly for you: this is Jane, our head housemaid. If you're not answering to me or Nicholas, you'll be answering to her, and trust me, I'll take any complaint I hear from her very seriously."

Kurt glances at Jane, a proud smile tugging at his lips when he sees her twisting her hands behind her back nervously while her face and posture betray nothing but calm and practised authority.

Mrs Abbot nods towards the girls. "These are Mary, our scullery-maid," a brown-haired girl with a heart-shaped face dips down in a clumsy curtsey, "you know Johnson," a broad shouldered girl with curly red hair peeking out from under her cap follows suit, "Becky and Charlotte, our newest additions," the girls in question, who both cannot be older than fifteen, blush instantly and wobble as they try to imitate her neighbours' curtsey, "and, of course, Marion." The last girl in the row nods her head, but stares at Jane in open defiance. Kurt can more feel than see Jane square her shoulders and stand a bit more upright.

There is, however, one more member of the household wanting to be introduced, Kurt realises when he sees a tiny face peek out behind Mrs Davies' skirts.

"There you are, Toby," Jane says. She crouches down immediately and opens her arms. The boy hesitates briefly, his fingers only reluctantly letting go of Mrs Davies' apron, before he quickly crosses the distance and flings himself into Jane's arms. Jane laughs and lifts him up easily when she stands, placing his weight on her hip in a practised motion. "Kurt, this is Toby, Mrs Davies' youngest and our house boy," she says. Toby has his mother's fair hair and blue eyes, and Kurt thinks that he can't be older than eight or nine – younger than Kurt himself was when he started service. He's looking at Kurt with a scrutinising expression that makes Kurt strangely uncomfortable and makes him realise how much he is still a stranger to these people, who all already know Nick and Jane so well. He smiles at Toby, but the boy merely continues to stare at him, which Kurt finds unnerving. He is therefore rather glad when Mrs Davies ushers them to the table, claiming that the stew will grow cold if they dawdle any longer.

"Did his Lordship give you instructions on when we can expect him?" Mrs Abbot asks while Kurt, Jane and Nick are busy wolfing down their dinner, which is almost as good as Mrs Bertram's stew.

"Does he ever?" Nick sighs, which is met by the tiniest smile in the corner of Mrs Abbot's mouth. "He gave me the impression that he has unfinished business to attend to at Bailey Hall though, so I believe we have at least a week to get everything ready."

Kurt hides his smile behind his spoon, because he remembers the conversation a bit differently: Nick threatening Sebastian to give them some days to prepare for his arrival because "everything else is stressful for us, especially if you need me to find new footmen and a gardener" and Sebastian pouting and teasing Nick but ultimately relenting to his wishes.

Mrs Abbot has more questions and she and Nick converse quietly while Jane chats with Charlotte and Becky and Kurt yawns into his stew until Nick takes pity on him and takes him upstairs to their quarters. They take the scenic route through the large mansion, and even in the dim light of Nick's flickering lamp and Kurt's single candle Kurt can see that Minerva House is quite an impressive mansion. The large stairwell is all white marble with Greek columns and golden ornaments twining around the banister. Thick red carpets with intricately woven designs swallow their footsteps as Nick shows him the other rooms: the parlour, the dining room, a large hall practically made for hosting a ball. Kurt looks at the paintings, the lush green and gold curtains, and while he is suitably impressed by the beauty of the house, he cannot help but think about how many people have worked to create this masterpiece: how many hands have chipped away at stone and marble, have tainted their fingers with paint and have stitched embroidery onto brocade until their fingers bled.

Upstairs are more rooms – study and library (much smaller than the ones at Bailey Hall), a music room complete with a harp and a piano – and when they reach the third floor Nick opens the door to a large bedroom. "This is Sebastian's," he says, while Kurt looks over his shoulder at blue and silver tapestry and a large bed. "The other bedrooms usually remain unoccupied unless we have guests or Sir Robert tires of the continent."

He waits until Kurt closes the door again, then walks down to the far end of the corridor and stands facing the wall. Kurt is staring at him in confusion until Nick slides his hand along the wooden panel and presses down on one particular sturdy piece of woodwork in the middle. Suddenly, the wall transforms into a narrow door, and Kurt is surprised to find a circular staircase behind it, this time narrow and unembellished. Faint noises can be heard from down below, laughter and voices that might come from the kitchen, but Nick turns to the stairs leading further up. "That's the servant's stairs," he says while Kurt follows him. "They're really narrow, so be careful when you walk down and mind your hea-"

"Ow!"

The warning comes already too late when Kurt's forehead collides painfully with the unforgiving stone. He curses quietly and rubs his forehead, thankful he's not feeling any cuts and hoping the bump won't be too noticeable as he follows Nick into a much narrower corridor. They must be in the attic now, right below the roof, and from the landing Kurt can see a few doors to the right. The air is warm and stuffy despite the late hour and Kurt imagines with dread what it might be like to sleep here during the warmer months yet to come.

Nick opens the first door, the one right next to the staircase and leans against the doorframe. "I thought you might like this one," he says, leaning further back to allow Kurt to move past him. The room is tiny, but Kurt stares in awe when he realises that there is only one bed.

"My room is right here," Nick says, tapping his knuckles against the wall. "There are two more rooms for two footmen each down the corridor, if you'd rather share, but I thought…"

"No," Kurt interrupts him and fully steps into the room to bring the light of his candle inside. It really is the tiniest shoebox: a small table with a washbasin barely fits next to the bed, and a small chest and a narrow wardrobe fill up the rest of the space. It's cramped, but there's a tiny window over the bed looking out over the rooftops of London that can be opened to let in some air and sunshine. Kurt can't remember having a room all to himself ever since his mother died, and the sense of privacy is both intimidating and exhilarating. "No, I like this. I'll stay."

"Good," Nick says. "The bell is right outside, so if Sebastian needs anything we'll be the first ones to know."

"Do all of the servants have their quarters here?" Kurt asks, realising how shamefully ignorant he is of life in the city. "Some do, others don't," Nick replies. "The kitchen maids are all staying with their families, I believe. The housemaids sleep in the adjoining corridor, but there's a different staircase leading up to their rooms. As for the new footmen, they will most likely stay here with us."

Kurt nods and sets down his suitcase on the bed. It feels strange to think about who will replace Jeff and if it feels strange to him, he cannot imagine what it must feel like to Nick. The other footman's expression, as usually, gives nothing away, but remains carefully neutral.

"Make sure we get someone nice," Kurt demands. Nick rolls his eyes. "And here I thought I'd hire someone reliable, loyal and dependable," he drawls, "But sure, nice works as well."

"You know what I mean," Kurt replies, not letting Nick's provocative words rile him up. "Just… I know you know what you're doing. But –" He doesn't know whether it's wise to bring the topic up at all, especially when Nick has been adamant about not wanting to talk about it, but this time, he feels like he should at least try. But how can he say Don't turn people away just because they might remind you of Jeff?

"Find someone who fits in with us," he says finally. Nick is looking at him attentively and Kurt doesn't know what Nick is reading in his expression, but whatever it is it causes his gaze to soften ever so slightly.

"I will," he says and it sounds like a promise. "I'll let Mrs Abbot make the final decision," Nick adds after a few seconds. "She's an excellent judge of character." He grins and adds, "She likes you, by the way." He laughs when Kurt can't fight the blush spreading over his cheeks before he pushes away from the doorframe and turns to leave with a wave over his shoulder.

"Goodnight Kurt."


For all that Kurt has dreamt about London, he doesn't actually get to see the capital during the first week he spends there.

The days pass as they often do: in busy preparations. What is new, however, is Minerva House: the smell of the rooms, the hidden doors leading to the servants' stairs, learning where everything is stored and kept in hidden cupboards, in the walls and below stairs all the way up to the attic, learning where to put the content of the countless trunks containing Sebastian's luggage that arrive over the next days. But as enormous as Minerva House certainly must be for a townhouse, it still is only a fraction of Bailey Hall and Kurt finds that he gets used to it quickly enough.

Nick, Jane and Mrs Abbot don't waste any time preparing for the season to come. Under Jane's watchful eyes the maids get to work immediately and it's a nigh impossible task to walk anywhere without almost tripping over one of them scrubbing the floor or dusting off furniture. Kurt actually manages to only stumble into one of their buckets once, but he splashes the dirty water all over himself, the previously spotless stairs, and worst of all – Marion, who is more than happy to take that as the reason to add him to the list of people she stares at like she is gleefully plotting their murder.

Nick and Mrs Abbot inquire about potential additions to the household immediately and before the end of the week two new footmen have moved into the room at the far end of the men's corridor. They insist on being called Andy and Will by the rest of the staff, though Nick and Mrs Abbot both resolutely make a point of calling them by their proper names, Andrew and William, for the time being (Kurt privately thinks that Mr Moore really would be proud of Nick). They're brothers and for all Kurt knows they could be twins: they share the same mop of curly sandy hair, freckled noses and bright eyes. Andrew is two months older than Kurt while William is a full year younger, which Kurt actually finds surprisingly difficult to accept. Having always been the youngest member of a household, he's surprised when the role of the older and more experienced employer now falls on him. He doesn't hesitate to take it though – while Andy and Will have years of experience in domestic work, they are as new to the house as Kurt is and it is actually quite nice to have someone by his side while discovering their new home.

He willingly answers their questions about his former employment, where he grew up and Bailey Hall. The only topic he feels hesitant about unfortunately proves to be the one they are most curious about: Sebastian.

"I heard he's a pretty odd fellow," Will offers over the breakfast table. "Isn't it rather late to come down to London for the season?"

"Well," Kurt replies reluctantly, because he can feel the curious eyes of the maids as well as Nick's stern gaze on him, but he is also curious to hear what kind of gossip London has to offer about Sebastian. "He can be a bit… eccentric at times."

"A close acquaintance of his fell ill this winter," Nick supplies without looking up from the newspaper. "His Lordship opted to help him make plans for his recreational journey."

His tone is carefully disinterested and Will and Andrew nod, apparently satisfied.

"That makes sense," Will says, "Though I heard about him being eccentric too. Wasn't he the one who ate too much cake and got sick at Lady Adelaide's ball last year?"

"That was Lord Benyon," Andy says, "You're mixing them up. But it is true that Lord Smythe's family died in a fire in London a few years ago, right?"

"His father and his older brother, yes," Jane admits. The faces of the other servants express pity, but also a morbid delight at hearing a tragic tale so early in the morning over their porridge.

"Is he courting anyone?" Charlotte asks, her eyes bright at the prospect of romance.

"He wasn't last year," Mary replies, "He didn't even go out that much."

"Isn't he still rather young?" Will asks. "Most Lords wait till they're older before they're courting anyone. It's the sensible thing to do."

"Well, he could still fall in love with some Lady," Charlotte replies and sticks her tongue out at Will, which causes Mrs Abbot to clear her throat pointedly. All of them take that as their cue to focus on their breakfast for at least thirty seconds before another round of questions erupts.

Kurt is rather sure that Nick made a good choice with Andy and Will. Despite their initial curiosity, they work quickly and efficiently and he doesn't hear them complain once in all of their first days together. They exchange stories over polishing shoes and silver and it becomes quickly apparent that they too think of Kurt as "country boy". And as much as Kurt wishes to take offense at that, his own ignorance about the city becomes ever more obvious the more stories they share. Andy and Will are city boys through and through – having been born in London and never having left its boundaries, they eagerly promise to show Kurt around as soon as the opportunity arises – which might not be in the nearest future, though, considering the amount of work in front of them.

Kurt does get a few glimpses of London, though – not by leaving the house, but by being appointed to door duty every so often. Nick takes one look at his delighted face and rolls his eyes fondly but Kurt doesn't care – he loves answering the door, loves to collect the post and invitations and calling-cards that arrive every day, loves to greet the other footmen and messenger boys, though he can't give a definite answer to their most pressing question, a question that is also at the front of Kurt's thoughts every so often when he tries to fall asleep at night:

When will Sebastian arrive?


Kurt has just briefly gone down to the kitchen for a cup of tea when the banging of doors and loud voices interrupt an otherwise quiet Sunday afternoon. He hurries to the hall and barely manages to catch a glimpse of a charcoal coloured coat and the sound of familiar laughter before a door upstairs closes with another heavy bang.

Kurt allows himself to remain standing there for a moment to examine the fluttering feeling in his chest.

He can't pinpoint exactly what has changed over the last weeks, but something feels different. Witnessing Nick's heartbreak and seeing Jeff grow up in unexpected ways, taking on the responsibility of forming and caring for a family, have thrown some things into stark relief. Things that Kurt hadn't considered, hadn't quite appreciated before.

He hasn't consciously decided to trust Sebastian enough to take a step into the direction into which their relationship has been heading for so long now. But he has realised something more important: he has learned to trust himself and he is slowly relearning to trust his feelings as well. He doesn't know when the bitter disappointment of February has given way to excitement and warmth whenever he sees Sebastian.

But slowly, it has.

Kurt has spent weeks, months, pondering Sebastian's mistakes and his own doubts. He is sure there is nothing more he can gain from them. What concerns him now is the future, and the could be is becoming ever more important than the has been.

"Kurt," someone hisses behind him and Kurt turns around to see Becky, her hands and arms dotted with dark smudges and chimney ash, hurrying downstairs. "His Lordship is asking for you."

Kurt takes his time climbing up the stairs. He concentrates on the way his stomach is twisting in anticipation, the way he has to fight to keep the smile on his face neutral. He's missed Sebastian, even if it has only been a week since they last saw each other and it's with this thought that he knocks on the door to Sebastian's bedroom before he enters.

The room is bright in the afternoon sunshine. Sebastian has flung his coat onto the white sheets of his bed and is standing by the window, looking out over the canopy of Green Park, his fingers sorting lazily through the stack of envelopes and calling cards Kurt has collected for him over the last days. Nick has opened the doors of the large wardrobe, apparently looking for something. Kurt closes the door behind him and the sound makes Sebastian turn around, his expression brightening noticeably when he spots Kurt and he takes a step back into the room as if to bridge the distance between them.

"Kurt," Sebastian says and Kurt cannot help but smile at the way Sebastian looks at him. This might be the strangest thing about their complicated relationship, but maybe in the end it all comes down to this: seeing Sebastian makes Kurt happy in a way that's still new, still frightening, and yet feels addictively good.

"It's nice to see you're still in one piece after you broke my carriage on the way to London," Sebastian adds. His tone is teasing and there's an immediately reply sitting on the tip of Kurt's tongue about how a frail carriage wheel is hardly his fault when his gaze meets Sebastian's. He's studied the other man long enough to notice the subtle way his expression doesn't match his words. There's a heaviness in his eyes, an alertness in the way his gaze drifts over Kurt's features as if to make sure Kurt really is alright, and with a sudden start Kurt understands that Sebastian was worried about him.

"I was unaware that the condition of the country roads is our responsibility," Nick scoffs. "And I wrote you a note as soon as we arrived here to let you know we're fine."

"Actually, it was less you I was concerned about," Sebastian says and grins at Nick. "I was worried more about my luggage. Please tell me that my favourite waistcoats are still in pristine condition."

"No, they're not," Kurt replies dryly. "They got damp, all of them. Were completely eaten up by mould by the time they arrived here. Such a shame. We had no choice but to burn them."

Sebastian gasps and clutches his heart theatrically. "I know Nick has no qualms when it comes to joking about fashion, but I expected better from you, Kurt," he says, his tone one of utter betrayal. Kurt cannot help but grin then, bright and happy, and Sebastian is grinning too, dropping the hand from his chest. He takes two more steps forward, and now he is close enough for Kurt to study the dark circles under his eyes that tell him that Sebastian hasn't been sleeping well. He's looking at Kurt in a way that causes pure warmth to spread from Kurt's stomach all the way through his chest, making his skin feel hot and his thoughts dizzy and –

"In the name of all that is sensible, you have to stop this!"

Kurt flinches at the exasperated note in Nick's voice, and when he turns he sees Nick leaning against the door of the wardrobe as if he's guarding it, his arms crossed in front of his chest and his gaze hard when he looks at Kurt and Sebastian.

"I don't know whether you two don't realise what you're doing or whether you just don't care, and I also don't know which one of those two possibilities I find worse."

Kurt actually blushes at that, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment when he thinks about how the previous scene must have looked to an outsider, and he instinctively takes a step back. He hears Sebastian murmur "Here we go" under his breath next to him, but his attention drifts back to Nick immediately when the other man continues, "I'm aware that you are… figuring out some things between you, and that's all fine and well. But I fear you might forget where we are now."

"This is Nick's annual be-careful-speech," Sebastian sighs and rolls his eyes. "He makes it every time we go back to London."

Nick's expression remains unimpressed as he turns and stares at Sebastian. "Yes, and shall we look at your history of mishaps to determine just how justified I've always been with regards to making it, and how much more you should listen to me in general?" he asks dryly. When Sebastian fails to come up with a reply to that, he turns to Kurt instead, "Kurt, I know we've all formed some sort of… friendship over the last months, and you know how much I appreciate it. But you cannot, I repeat, you cannot let anybody here suspect even the slightest notion of extraordinary conduct between us and Sebastian. We're not inside Bailey Hall's protective walls anymore. This is London, and even the tiniest rumours spread like wildfires unless there is some bigger scandal to keep people occupied."

Kurt nods solemnly. "I know," he says, careful to avoid Sebastian's gaze, because he does know. He's aware of the risks, aware of what it might cost not just him, not just Nick, but mainly Sebastian should they be caught casually conversing with their employer like this – or worse. But knowing that risk doesn't quell his happiness at seeing Sebastian again. It doesn't stop the fluttering feeling inside his stomach, his wish to reach out to do – what, exactly?

He thinks back to those moments he shared with Sebastian at Bailey Hall, their kiss at Nick's bedside, the afternoon in the music room, and he realises Nick is right. They have to be careful. But he also knows that the only way to be truly safe would be to stop exploring those feelings between them until they return to Bailey Hall in autumn, maybe not even then.

Kurt is more than willing to be careful.

But he has once again decided to follow where the path of his and Sebastian's relationship may lead them.

And he is not willing to stop.


Notes: I know there isn't a lot of relationship progress in this chapter, but seeing as the next 6-8 chapters will take place in London I found it necessary to set the scene. The London shenanigans will begin in earnest in the next chapter, I promise.
On the plus side, it only took me one month to write this chapter as opposed to two years, so… tentative yay?