Brief content warning, because illness is a touchy subject these days and rightfully so: not terribly graphic descriptions of vomiting (so maybe finish your breakfast before you read) and brief discussion of illness (but everything will be fine, don't worry).

April – Mai 1851

As the days go by London leaves the last traces of the lingering winter behind and steps into a determined spring. Green Park lives up to its name as the first hesitant buds blossom into soft, green leaves and tulips in yellow and pink line the walkways. The days grow longer and warmer, only intercepted by the occasional heavy rain shower, and Kurt begins to leave the tiny window in his room a crack open so that a soft breeze cools the air in the room.

Sebastian spends most of his evenings out, accepting invitations for dinner parties and balls from friends and acquaintances. Kurt suspects that part of the reason for that are the letters in Lady Smythe's neat, cursive hand that arrive every second or third day. But even apart from the insistent reminder of his grandmother to be sociable, Sebastian seems to genuinely look forward to these evenings.

Sometimes, there's an ugly feeling blooming in Kurt's chest when he watches Sebastian climb into his carriage when the sun is vanishing behind the canopy of Green Park. It's a feeling he hates because he knows it's both unfair and useless. It's not that he doesn't want Sebastian to have fun, on the contrary – he loves to see Sebastian relax in the city, loves to hear him laugh and be himself in ways that he cannot be at Bailey Hall.

But what he wants, Kurt realises one evening when he stands in the door and looks after the carriage carting Sebastian off to another event, what he truly wants is to be the reason why Sebastian is laughing – or at least to be next to him, to laugh with him. He feels momentarily shocked at his own selfishness, but it's true: he wants to be able to joke and laugh with Sebastian, by his side, either in the security of Minerva House or even at these balls, exchanging secretive glances and smiles over the heads of the other guests. He knows that it is naïve, that it is stupid, that it is unwise – but he cannot change it. All he can do is slam the door shut with more force than necessary in annoyance at himself.

There are two things that keep him from brooding on these dark thoughts. One is the fact that Sebastian readily supplies him with accounts of what happens at these balls, with the latest gossip about who danced with whom and who drank too much. Kurt loves those little private moments they share in the library or in the study, even though Sebastian continues to be hopeless when it comes to fashion: when Kurt asks what kind of dress Lady Isabella wore to the Devenham ball, Sebastian's reply is "Green. With bows on the… somewhere?", which has Kurt roll his eyes in exasperation.

The second thing that keeps him from sulking is London itself. Kurt simply doesn't have the time to dwell on these feelings because the city keeps him busy. Sebastian has recently taken up the habit of ordering a lot of things – some furniture for the house, new clothes and books – and those orders that aren't delivered to the house directly the maids and footmen have to collect.

Kurt spends many hours by Nick's side, roaming the streets of London and, after a few weeks, Kurt can finally claim to have mapped the city well enough to find his way home, even when he's on his own. Kurt's favourite trips are those to the booksellers on the Strand and Holywell Street, where he inhales the smell of fresh ink and new paper, and the dressmaker's salons, where he runs his fingertips over smooth satin, soft cotton and embroidered velvet when he collects a new hat or waistcoat. Sebastian takes one long look at Kurt's smile when he returns from one of these trips and from that moment onwards it is almost always Kurt who is assigned to running errands in the city, even though some of the booksellers assure him time and time again that they would be delighted to deliver the newest magazines to his Lordship's doorstep. If Andy and Will notice anything about the arrangement, they keep quiet about it, and Nick is rolling his eyes at Kurt and Sebastian with increased frequency these days anyway, so Kurt is not too worried about it.

Sunday afternoons are what Kurt has begun to look forward to the most: the few hours he has to explore the city without running an errand are precious, and he always spends them in the company of either Nick or Jane, both. He wouldn't mind if Andy and Will tagged along, but despite their earlier promises the brothers always return home on Sundays, to deliver their wages and look after their mother who has recently fallen ill.

The city is abuzz with talk about the upcoming Exhibition in Hyde Park, which is already the most anticipated event of the season. Every day the newspapers and magazines report on other exotic exhibits that are supposedly going to be shown at Hyde Park, and Kurt and Jane make it their daily breakfast ritual to discuss which of these might be true and which are utter nonsense.

Kurt and Jane also visit the London Zoo in Regent's Park together one bright sunny afternoon. Jane confides that she had hoped that after the craze last year the crowds might have diminished, now that everyone has seen the famous hippopotamus. But the zoo's newest acquisition is an elephant mother together with her little calf, and the crowd around the elephant exhibit is so large that Jane and Kurt exchange one glance and then head off into the other direction. The good thing about the crowds being so keen on seeing the little elephant is that the rest of the zoo is quite empty, and they stroll around the menagerie at a leisurely pace, eating oranges and looking at the animals. Kurt stares in awe at the giraffes with their long, gracious necks and their slow, deliberate movements; at the eight lions and lionesses dozing in the sun and the enormous, slate-grey rhinoceros, which stares at him in a way that Kurt finds quite intimidating.

The hippopotamus Obaysch has been moved to an outdoor tank, and while it's still fairly crowded, Jane and Kurt manage to find a spot in front from which they can observe the animal, which is resting lazily in the water, with only its ears occasionally turning from side to side.

Nick has declined their invitation to accompany them to the zoo, claiming that he had too much to do and that he had seen it often enough last year.

"It reminds him of Jeff," Jane says as they turn to leave. "He loved the zoo so much."

Kurt nods and puts his arm around Jane as they wave through the people waiting to catch a glimpse at Obaysch, worried about losing her in the crowd.

"Have you heard from Harriet?" he asks.

"A few times only," Jane replies. "She writes that they arrived safely in Dublin and that Jeff's family is lovely. His younger sisters have adopted her right on the spot. Apparently they married the day after they arrived, and now Jeff's brother is putting them to work in his shop."

"Yes, that's what Jeff wrote to us too," Kurt says. He doesn't mention that "us" really means "Kurt", because he isn't sure whether Nick has written to Jeff at all – or whether Nick has received any letters from Jeff. He always passes the letters he receives on to Nick, who reads them but refuses to discuss their content. Kurt has decided to leave him be – if there is anything he can do to make it better, he trusts that Nick will tell him eventually.

"I'm happy we have Andy and Will now," Jane says, smiling at a mother who is carrying little twin daughters on her hips and pointing to the peacocks elegantly prancing on the grass. "Of course they could never replace Jeff, but… life does go on, and I find it easier to move on with the space he left somewhat filled up."

Kurt isn't certain whether he agrees with that, because as nice as Andy and Will are, he misses Jeff's simple friendship, his quiet support and his good humour, though he doesn't allow himself to dwell on it too often. He almost stumbles over his feet when Jane adds, "I just hope Nick will feel better soon. I hate seeing him so downcast, but heartbreak is never easy I suppose."

Kurt stops, and since his arm is still linked through Jane's, she spins to a halt too. He stares at her, trying to determine whether he understood her correctly, if she meant what she said the way he thinks she meant it…

Jane blinks at him, her expression innocently curious. "Why have we stopped?" she asks, and Kurt cannot read the small smile on her face, cannot decide what to say because this is bigger than him, and he has no right, and he can hear Nick's voice warning him to be careful. But heaven's, does he want to blurt out everything to the woman who has become so much like a sister to him.

"It's nothing," he finally says and resumes his walking. "I just… no, it's nothing. Let's head home."

He thinks he can hear Jane sigh beside him, but he isn't sure.


"Your lordship, would you mind sparing me and the footmen for one evening?"

Kurt, who has been in the middle of pouring gravy over Sebastian's fish and potatoes, looks up in surprise at the question. Andy and Will have also turned around and face Nick, who wears his most professional expression as he pours Sebastian another glass of wine.

"Why do you ask, Nicholas?" Sebastian inquires, his tone only mildly interested.

"I received a letter from Mr Durham," Nick explains. "The butler of Earl and Countess Spencer. He made me understand that they will host one of their grand balls in two weeks and that they would welcome experienced personal to help out with the service that evening."

Sebastian looks contemplative for a moment, but then he nods, "Yes of course, I believe I received the invitation a few days ago. For when is that scheduled?"

"The fifth of May, your Lordship."

Sebastian turns his head and smiles at Kurt, who was just about to retreat with the gravy bowl. It's a kind smile, but a distanced one, and Kurt can't help but think how different this discussion would be were it not for the presence of Andy and Will.

"Would you like that, Kurt? To serve at what promises to be one of the most spectacular events of the season?"

Kurt nods emphatically, "I would, your Lordship." Sebastian's smile widens almost imperceptively before he turns to the other footmen, "What about you, Andrew? William?" They exchange an enthusiastic glance and chorus a "Yes, your lordship" and Sebastian turns to Nick again.

"Well then, feel free to write Mr Durham and tell him Minerva House won't leave him alone in his hour of need. If I know Georgiana, he'll need all the help he can get his hands on."

"Very well, your Lordship," Nick replies and Kurt clutches the gravy bowl with a smiel, excited at the prospect of attending his first ball in London, because while Sebastian has attended quite a number of social events, he has so far neglected to host any himself. To see the London elite prance around in their finest clothing, with music and dancing, has been one of the things Kurt has dreamed of for so long – and when he catches the look and the smile that passes between Nick and Sebastian, he thinks that it might show on his face.


It's still hours before the dawn of the first of May when Kurt wakes up in the dark, feeling uneasy but thinking nothing much of it at first. His dinner has disagreed with him before and, by all estimates, will most likely do so again in the future. He drifts in and out of a restless slumber for some time, but, when the sky outside begins to change to a lighter grey, he sits bolt upright as a sudden wave of nausea hits him, enough to startle him awake. He barely has time to scramble to the floor and pull out his chamber pot before his body violently ejects everything he ate the day before. He clutches the rim and moans miserably when the stench starts to permeate his room.

This is how Nick finds him some time later. To Kurt, it feels like ages have passed, but Nick is still in his nightshirt, looking like a spectre in the grey light of the room.

"I thought I heard something," he says, crouching down next to Kurt to gently rub his back. "Can you sit?"

Kurt tries and is rewarded with yet another wave of nausea. He feels tears in his eyes when the bile burns his throat. Nick keeps rubbing his back and waits until the spell of vomiting has passed before he grabs Kurt by the shoulders and gently, gently helps him up to sit on the edge of the bed. He also helps him change out of his soiled nightshirt and into the spare one, then cleans up the mess with the dirty shift.

"I'm just going to empty this out in the yard," he says, wets a handkerchief in the washing bowl and carefully rubs it over Kurt's face, which has started to feel like it's burning up. "You lie down; I'll be back in just a moment."

He vanishes while Kurt crawls back under his blanket, thankful for the cool cotton against his warm skin. His stomach feels like it's turning upside down and there is a pounding in his temples that doesn't diminish until he pulls the cover over his head.

Nick returns, now half-dressed in trousers and a loosely buttoned shirt.

"I've told Mrs Abbot that you're sick and are to remain in bed today," Nick says and sets down the freshly scrubbed chamber pot and a small tray with a fresh water bowl and a filled teacup. "I'll tell Sebastian later too."

"I haven't been sick in years," Kurt protests faintly.

"Well, congrats to that," Nick replies dryly. "You clearly are now."

He lifts his hand to Kurt's forehead to feel his temperature and lines of worry appear in the crease between his eyebrows. "You probably just ate something rotten," Nick says firmly. "If it's all out now, you should feel better by tonight."

Kurt spends the day in bed, drifting in and out of sleep and listening to the noise of London filtering through his window. Toby peers into his room a couple of times and brings fresh tea which Kurt refuses to drink, as the thought alone makes him taste bile. He does not feel better when the sky outside darkens again and when Nick visits him one last time before bed to force him to drink something, his expression is serious, which doesn't help lift Kurt's own worries.

"Try to sleep," he instructs and wipes a wet cloth over Kurt's forehead, which has begun to feel feverishly hot. "If you need anything, I'm right on the other side of that wall, just knock."

Kurt doesn't knock, mostly because he tosses and turns in restless slumber for the night, and only falls into a deep sleep in the early hours of the morning. He wakes when someone sets down a tray next to him. Blinking, he is startled when he recognizes Jane's dark hair and her grey dress.

"You're not supposed to be here," he murmurs. His head hurts and his skin feels too tight for his body, and everything is too bright.

Jane shrugs. "Everyone else is busy, I doubt they'll notice." She brushes her fingers over Kurt's sweaty forehead. "How are you feeling? We're worried about you."

"I'm sorry," Kurt replies. He attempts and fails at a convincing smile. "But honestly? Not much better."

She frowns at that, sits down and pulls a bowl onto her knees. "I brought broth," she says and grins. "Try saying that three times fast." Kurt smiles faintly and sits up. He insists on holding the spoon himself – he's not weak enough to be fed, thank you very much – but he doesn't even manage to empty half of the bowl before his hand starts to shake and he feels dizzy.

He doesn't manage to keep anything down: not the broth, not even the tea they force him to drink. When Nick visits him in the early afternoon and sees the content of the chamber pot, his brow furrows in concern. "That's it," he says, "I'm telling Sebastian and we're calling the doctor."

Kurt doesn't want to see a doctor. He doesn't even want to see Nick or Jane – all he wants to do is pull the cover over his head and sleep.

Which is precisely what he does.


When Kurt wakes much, much later, it is night. There's a mercifully cool breeze drifting over him and when he blinks his eyes open, the room is illuminated only by the soft light of a single candle.

He sighs and sits up slowly, because for the first time in days, he feels thirsty enough to consider voluntarily drinking something. He opens his eyes and flinches, startled by the sight that greets him. Next to his bed, cramped within the tiny space between the wall and his mattress, sits Sebastian. He has his long legs folded up and a book resting on his knees, his head leans again the leg of Kurt's tiny table. He's just in a simple shirt and a pair of trousers, and yet – the sight of Lord Sebastian Edward Smythe, curled up next to Kurt's bed in the servant's wing, is jarring.

The movement next to him must alert Sebastian: he turns his head and his eyes widen when he sees Kurt sit up. His book is quickly cast aside when Sebastian tries to stand up – less than elegantly as he nearly trips over his own feet in the cramped space.

"You're awake," he says, "How are you feeling?"

"What are you doing here?" Kurt says. His voice is raspy and his throat burns, but he barely notices in his alarm. "What if someone-"

"Shh, Kurt, it's alright," Sebastian replies. He reaches for Kurt's hand and his fingers are cool and comforting against Kurt's hot skin. "It's three in the morning. Nick sent the other footmen to spend the night with their family and everyone else is asleep. Don't worry."

That does reassure Kurt and he sinks back into his pillows. His head is pounding and the nausea is still coursing through his body, though it is significantly less all-consuming than it was this morning. "It's still risky," he murmurs. Sebastian doesn't answer, just reaches for the cup resting next to Kurt's washing bowl.

"Drink," he says and lifts it to Kurt's lips. His other hand comes to rest on Kurt's shoulder, steadying and helping him into a sitting position. "The doctor said you need to drink as much as you can, even if you can't keep all of it down."

Kurt swallows the liquid – chamomile tea, cold – in little sips, always fearing for the nausea to overcome him. It doesn't though, and he manages another cup before he's sweating from the exhaustion of sitting upright. "The doctor was here?" he asks when Sebastian returns the cup to the table and he can rest once more against his cool pillow.

"Earlier in the evening," Sebastian replies. The expression on his face darkens and he is avoiding Kurt's gaze when he adds hastily, "He wasn't too alarmed though. Said as long as you drink enough you'll be back on your feet in no time."

There's something false about the dismissiveness in Sebastian's voice, but Kurt doesn't ask. He doesn't have to, and he doesn't want to. They both know the possibilities, know that for all that Kurt's illness could certainly be harmless, it could also be something severe. The last outbreak of cholera sweeping over the land a mere two years ago is still fresh in everybody's memory, especially to Kurt, who remembers the deaths of his parents oh so very clearly. Kurt pushes the thought away as soon as it enters his mind. There's no use in assuming the worst, he tells himself. He's not that ill, and he hasn't thrown up since noon, which is most likely a good sign.

It'll be fine.

It'll be fine.

Strong fingers settle once more over Kurt's, pulling his hands away from where they have grabbed the sheet to hold them securely between Sebastian's palms.

"Don't worry," he says and looks at Kurt with a quiet determination. "We'll take care of you, I promise. This happens to everyone in the city. I was throwing up constantly last year and I could tell you pretty disgusting stories about that one time the whole household ate mackerels that weren't fresh from the sea. You need to drink, and sleep, and then you'll be fine in a matter of days."

Suddenly, Kurt has to blink back tears because whether Sebastian realises or not, that's exactly what he needed to hear. He doesn't trust his voice so he just nods, his fingers tightening their hold on Sebastian's. This is also new between them, Kurt notices – while they have spent time together at other people's sickbeds, he has never been at the centre of attention of a worried, caring, nursing Sebastian. It's sort of odd, and strangely comforting.

Sebastian smiles at him and reaches out to brush some strands of hair out of Kurt's forehead.

"I nearly had to fight Nick to get him to go to bed," he says and let's go of Kurt's hands to pick up a damp washcloth. "He wanted to stay here the whole night."

"How did you dissuade him?" Kurt asks.

"I told him that it's technically still my bloody house and I could just order him to go to bed," Sebastian says and winces at the memory. "It wasn't an argument well-received."

"It isn't an argument well-made either," Kurt replies and Sebastian grins. "Oh good, you're already being cheeky again. I'm less worried now."

"You were worried?" Kurt asks. It's an obvious observation, but it has the benefit of seeing the washcloth drop from Sebastian's fingers. He fumbles to catch it while looking anywhere but at Kurt. "Maybe?" he says. "Yes?"

His gaze flickers to Kurt's for just a moment before he lets the washcloth fall back into the bowl and leans back against the wall, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "I went to the Exhibition yesterday. Do you want to hear about it?"

"Yes please," Kurt says, because he does in fact want to hear about it – but also because he's willing to let Sebastian change the topic to overcome his embarrassment.

He's aware that they should maybe talk about this, clarify what is happening. That maybe he should let Sebastian know that it's fine that he's worried about Kurt – more than fine, actually. That it's cute to see him get flustered at being caught at caring. That he doesn't mind crossing another boundary between them. That he likes having Sebastian here, by his side. It's still risky, of course it is – but he can breathe a little easier when he looks at Sebastian's face, when he listens to his voice detailing the events of yesterday. But maybe there's another time and place for that conversation, a time when Kurt doesn't feel weak and exhausted. So he just snuggles deeper into his pillow and listens to Sebastian's account of the opening of the Exhibition: the grand hall they build just for the event, how Prince Albert could barely contain his excitement and how ridiculously proud Queen Victoria seemed whenever she looked at her husband. He tells Kurt about the exhibits: the machinery, the trinkets and statues, the fabrics and clothes and paintings collected from every corner of the Empire.

"It's far too much to take in at once," Sebastian says. "I'll have to go back again."

"We wanted to visit next Sunday," Kurt says. His voice sounds sleepy, even though his thoughts are still occupied with picturing the Exhibition. "Nick said admission's not that expensive, and that's our next day off."

"Why don't you go… Oh right, there's the Spencer ball this Sunday," Sebastian remembers. "Let's hope you're back on your feet by then."

Kurt hasn't thought about that at all, but now that Sebastian has mentioned it, he really hopes he'll be recovered until then. "I wouldn't want to miss it for the world," he says, while Sebastian leans forward, perching precariously on the edge of Kurt's bed while he tries to reach the book he has dropped to the floor.

"Lady Georgiana's balls are quite the events," Sebastian says and leans back with triumphant smile, book in hand. "Grandmother hates her with a passion. She's been sending so many invitations to Queen Victoria, but her majesty has never shown up at any of our gatherings. She is a frequent guest at Spencer House though."

That thought makes Kurt's stomach turn in a way that has nothing to do with his sickness. "Wait – are you telling me that in three days I might be serving port to the Queen of England?" he asks.

Sebastian grins, "I don't think she's much of a port person. I seem to remember that she prefers Merlot."

Kurt just stares at him with wide eyes while he tries to let that thought sink in, and Sebastian laughs. "Relax Kurt. She's not some mystical creature, she's a person made from flesh and blood, like you and me. She eats, sleeps, pees and puts on her knickers in the morning."

Kurt finds the strength to raise his foot enough to kick Sebastian, but he smiles too. "Like you would know anything about the queen's knickers," he says and Sebastian laughs quietly.

The bells of St. James chime outside the window: one, two, three, four. "You should try to get some more sleep," Sebastian says. He opens the book again and rests it on his knees. "You look a bit better, actually. Not quite as pale. A good night's rest and you'll be good as new." "

"Hmm," Kurt replies. He lets his eyes drift shut, but he can't stop thinking. Too many things swarm his mind now: the ball, the queen, the Exhibition. Sebastian, Sebastian, Sebastian. He opens his eyes again and sees Sebastian turn another page. "What are you reading?" he asks.

Sebastian looks up. "Nicholas Nickleby," he replies and grins. "Mostly to piss off Nick, though. He hates any reference to this book." He hesitates, just briefly, before he asks, "Do you want me to read it to you?"

"Yes, please," Kurt says. He closes his eyes and concentrates on his own breathing, feeling the exhaustion of the day course through his body. He drifts into sleep accompanied by a soft, clear voice reading: "There once lived in a sequestered part of the county of Devonshire, one Mr. Godfrey Nickleby, a worthy gentleman, who taking it into his head rather late in life that he must get married, and not being young enough or rich enough to aspire to the hand of a lady of fortune, had wedded an old flame out of mere attachment, who in her turn had taken him for the same reason: thus two people who cannot afford to play cards for money, sometimes sit down to a quiet game for love…"


A/N: I wanted to wait until I finished all of the London arc before posting this (I have four out of seven chapters written right now), but the world is a scary place at the moment and I feel less helpless when I can do something that'll hopefully make some people smile. I'll post the next chapter on Friday. Until then - stay safe if you can, please