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It began, as those things often do, with a game. There was the game, and then a splash, and a laugh. They were having fun. And considering the one now soaked to the bone was also the one now laughing, there was no reason for any to take offence at the accidental dunking.
Only…Sean and Fred were not laughing.
“Brrr. That will wake a fellow up,” Jack said, still grinning and splashing a bit as he started to pull himself out of the fountain, wet hair dripping down his face and his clothes soaked through. The day was just the slightest bit too chilly for a swim and the water was rather a shock to fall into, but he had certainly had worse landings than a bit of wet, so to his mind no harm was done and it was sunny enough out he would be dry again soon enough, though he’d be rather chilled until he was. His wet coat also rather weighed him down, making him flounder in his first attempt to rise.
“I am so sorry, Jack. Here, let me help,” Sean said, and Jack lost some of his grin at the worried seriousness in Sean’s tone, unexpected when they had just been playing around only a moment before. Sean grabbed Jack’s hand and Fred had his other and together they and practically hauled him free of the water.
“Thanks,” Jack said, feeling a bit bemused, but then, perhaps they thought if they gave him a chance Jack might have playfully pulled them into the water. On a warmer day, he certainly might have. But no, it wasn’t that, because they didn’t let him alone even freed from the fountain.
“Here, Jack, you can have my coat,” Fred said, pulling at Jack’s water-soaked one. Fred had it half off him before Jack even understood what he was doing.
“Mine too,” Sean said, and they sounded so earnest. It was disconcerting.
“Look, it’s just a bit of water and the day isn’t that cold, I’ll be fine,” Jack tried to say, even as his own coat was stripped away. Considering how heavy and waterlogged it had grown, they were probably right that he’d be warmer and dry faster without it. But he shrugged away Fred’s attempt to then give him his own coat. Especially because it was Fred’s coat. Everyone knew Freddie was prone to colds; Jack could remember many a time when a little cold turned into wheezing that would get so bad the boy could barely breathe. Freddie had spent half their childhood in bed, and Jack was certainly not going to be responsible for him spending half his adulthood there as well. Of course, he’d never imply anything of the kind; Fred would hate to be coddled, but that did not mean he was about to have him wander around on a chilly day without his coat.
“One of us should get to be warm,” Jack explained instead.
“How far to the mat?” Sean said, and even as Jack pushed Fred’s coat back to him, he had Sean’s suddenly draped around his shoulders.
“We don’t need to run home because I got a bit wet,” Jack protested, while trying to work out how to shrug off Sean’s larger coat when the man already had it half buttoned up around him. It did not help that he hadn’t had a chance to get his arms in the sleaves; he was rather trapped. “Anyway, I’d be dry again before we got there. Just let me find a bit of sun.”
“He’s right,” Fred said. “If we hike…do we have enough for a cab?”
“They tend not to like men dripping all over their seats,” Jack pointed out, feeling a bit bemused now. Fred and Sean were acting so strangely, and completely at odds with the situation. It was a bit of water on a chilly day, not a fall in the Thames mid-winter. They should be laughing and joking and maybe getting Jack to run around in the sun to warm him up, not trying to smother him in their own coats. And anyway, it was not like it was someone like Fred who had gotten dunked, where a bit of wet could be a danger to their health. It was Jack. Jack was as hale and healthy as anything.
Well, usually.
He had gotten rather ill about a month or so back, but not dangerously so, and everyone had had a cold; it had gone through all of them in the end. And there had really been no need for Michael to trap him in his house for a week (he used a sick Jane, underhanded but effective) and there had definitely been no need for the other leeries to help Jack in his rounds for weeks after.
Other than that, he was usually healthy. Okay, there had been that matter of the broken rib and twisted wrist before that…but that was an accident not an illness and anyone could have had the same trouble with an icy road and a ladder. Just like anyone’s scratches might get a bit of an infection when they go to rescue a drowning kitten. And he hadn’t fainted that one time, no matter what Bert had called it, that one cold winter; he had slipped on a puddle while feeling a bit under the weather was all.
Usually he was as healthy and strong as any of them and it made no sense for Fred to have that worried look or for Sean to have gone all pale and actually look half terrified as he buttoned Jack up into his own coat.
“Oh, oh, Angus is going to kill me,” Sean said.
“Why would Angus kill you?” Jack wanted to know, and then had a horrible thought. “Is this really his coat I’m getting all wet? But…no wait, it’s way too big…you could have at least let me get my arms in you know. I feel like I’m wearing a straitjacket.”
And Fred should have made a joke about Jack needing one. Sean should have laughed. Instead, they hardly seemed to notice anything Jack said and they still looked about as far from laughing as it was possible to be.
“Here…what about Mr. Banks’s house?” Fred suggested, not sounding entirely sure of it, “It’s right off the park.” And now they looked at Jack since he knew the family best. Jack’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. Next thing, he just knew, they were going to suggest going there to dry Jack off, maybe even to impose and borrow some clothes off of Michael, force a hot drink down his throat or something worse, like medicine. It was unnecessary, and Jack was not sure he wanted Michael or the children to see him like that anyway. Normally, Jack did not mind a bit of a laugh at his expense, but… he did not want to have a fuss made over him, and this was all beginning to take on all the shape and form of a major Fuss.
“Michael’s shirking,” Jack said authoritatively, knowing nothing of the kind as he did not have the man’s work schedule memorized.
“…on a Sunday?” Sean demanded, sounding puzzled. “Is the bank even open on Sunday?”
“…shirking as in… churching, I mean,” Jack said. “The whole family will be at church.” Now it was Fred giving him a look that rather said, ‘you lose’. He knew him too well.
“It’s three in the afternoon,” was all Fred said though.
“Very…er…religious, that family. Keen on church, the lot of them. The house will be totally…”
“Uncle Jack!” three voices called from quite nearby, and three small people who were most decidedly not at church were running towards them.
“Oh look,” said Sean, looking past the children. “Speak of the devil…” And for the first time since the wetting occurred, he grinned, clearly enjoying what he considered a quite witty turn of phrase, what with all the talk of church before.
In his secret heart of hearts, Jack rather agreed. But he was too busy questioning what the universe had against him this day to give Sean the satisfaction. Despite this, he could not help but smile for the children and Michael. And there was Jane, too. He felt the strangest conflicting emotions at that; delight to see Jane, embarrassment for her to see him like this; dripping wet and wrapped up in Sean’s coat while his friends hovered looking like Jack had managed to catch his death on their watch.
“Why are you all wet?” the smallest Banks asked when he was close enough.
“A bit of an unplanned swim in the fountain,” Jack said, and at least the children reacted how he might have expected. The older two grinned. Georgie frowned, but it had less to do with fear or worry and more to do with indignation.
“The Park Keeper never lets me swim in the fountain.”
“Oh, well, I wouldn’t recommend it. A bit chilly today,” Jack said.
“Why are your arms all funny?” John wanted to know.
“Because someone decided I needed a dry coat, and did not let me get my arms in the holes first,” Jack explained.
“You should change your clothes,” Annabel admonished. “It’s too chilly out for wet clothes. You’ll catch a cold.” Then her frown deepened and she added, “Again.”
“Not much point,” Jack said quickly, ignoring the ‘again’ part; “By the time I got home to change them, they’ll be dry again.”
“Hello Mr. Banks. Miss Banks.” Fred said, tipping his hat to the adults who, more slowly than the children, had come close enough to join them. “We were just discussing how to get Jack dry before he catches something in his wet clothes.”
“Poor Jack,” said Jane, but her eyes were smiling and Jack’s lips twitched up into a smile even as he tried to get up a good mock outrage at her teasing. “Did your friends decide you needed a dunking?”
“I didn’t mean to!” Sean exclaimed, sounding so distressed and in earnest that the entire Banks family looked over at him askance.
“Why don’t we go to the house?” Michael suggested after a moment. “You can borrow some clothes off me until yours dry.”
“There’s no need…” Jack started, only to be completely drowned out by Sean and Fred’s immediately offering thanks on Jack’s behalf.
Jack, very briefly, considered making a run for it. If he could hold them off long enough to dry then they would have to concede that he was fine and stop all this fuss and nonsense about a bit of damp. He was outnumbered though, and disadvantaged, buttoned up as he was in Sean’s large coat. Not to mention surrounded.
The Banks children had come to the conclusion that Uncle Jack absolutely must get out of his wet clothes before he became ill. And as the entire Banks family was particularly sensitive when it came to illness, fighting them on the matter felt heartless. So when the children started to push and pull, and even Jane said, “I’ll go put the kettle on,” in a tone that was only half teasing, Jack allowed himself to be led.
That is not to say he went peacefully.
“You are all making a fuss over nothing,” he tried to tell them, scowling, and completely unaware that a scowl, coupled as it was with his wet hair sticking up in all directions, was more likely to be greeted with smiles than due alarm at his fury.
Whatever he said, some fifteen minutes later he was sitting in the kitchen in Michael’s clothes with a blanket thrown around his shoulders for good measure and a cup of hot tea in his hands while Ellen hovered over him ominously pulling out a small bottle and a spoon with a softly spoken, “perhaps…just in case…”
“I’m too hot now,” Jack complained, trying to shrug away the blanket. The only thing still wet about him was his hair; a quick rub with a towel had not been enough to soak up all the water. As such, he was perfectly comfortable and not cold at all, but everyone kept acting like he still needed to warm up.
“Oh, does he have a fever?” Sean demanded, alarmed. Ellen put down the bottle to fetch the thermometer. Georgie and John helpfully patted the blanket back into place around him.
Jack sent a pleading look towards Jane, who seemed to have gotten over whatever fear still plagued Sean and Fred, and now just looked like she was laughing at him.
It turned out, Jack did not have a fever. He did not have a sniffle. He looked more flushed than pale, and that was largely due to being smothered with blankets and coats and hot drinks in a warm kitchen.
“I told you I was fine,” Jack said, having enough of things when Ellen finally admitted that the thermometer proclaimed him perfectly regular in every way. And to back this up Jack stood, shedding blankets and coats to the floor and carefully setting his half drunken tea on the table. “Now, can we go back to having fun in the park?”
“Yes, hoorah, we make Uncle Jack better so now we can go and play!” Georgie exclaimed.
“But…” said Sean and then, whispering to Fred, “Do you think we could…maybe…not mention this to the others? Since he’s fine? I want to live.”
Jack, half out the door to the kitchen, spun around with a scowl and said, “Enough! What is all this about everyone killing you? So I got a bit wet? It’s not midwinter. I’m not…I’m not some delicate flower who can’t take a bit of water. Why are you all being so strange?!”
The rather overcrowded kitchen went utterly silent, everyone staring wide-eyed at Jack.
“You know what,” said Michael, “I think the park is just what we need.” And he and Jane shooed the confused children out the door. Ellen frowned, ominously shook the medicine’s spoon in Jack’s direction, but in the end she followed, leaving the three men alone in the Banks’s house without a single Banks.
Jack, suddenly feeling a bit sheepish for his outburst, nonetheless looked towards Sean and Fred, waiting for an answer. They said nothing, just stared, looking nervous, and guilty, and worried.
A horrible suspicion came over Jack.
“You…you don’t think I am delicate…do you?” he asked, his voice quiet and injured. Their guilty expressions grew more guilty. Jack did not know what to think.
“But I’m not,” Jack tried to explain, “Not like…” He looked towards Fred and stopped, because that was not something they talked about. If Jack did not like to be thought ‘delicate’ then he knew Freddie would not care for it either.
Fred did not look upset or indignant or anything of the kind though. He looked confused.
“What…not like me?” he asked.
“I…just…like when you have trouble just breathing and you are always getting sick…” Jack said carefully, because it was not like Fred did not know he was prone to illness. But both Fred and Sean still looked confused.
“Jack…” said Fred slowly, looking at Jack as if Jack were the one not making any sense, “You do know I outgrew that…right? I haven’t had more than a bad cold in…oh…years.”
And now that Jack thought on it, he could not remember the last time Freddie had been seriously ill.
“I guess not,” Jack said. “Huh.”
“And you’re always getting sick,” Sean put in to Jack, and then, “Ow, what did you kick me for?” to Fred.
Jack hardly noticed that exchange, to busy opening and closing his mouth, shocked and indignant at the very suggestion that it was Jack who was prone to illness. He was nothing of the kind! He was not always getting sick! He got a bit of a cold that everyone over-reacted to, maybe once a year, if that!
“Is that what everyone thinks?” he demanded at last. “You do think I’m delicate! It was a cold! And before that it was a bit of ice! And anyone gets infection when a kitten scratches you! It’s not…I’m not…you…what are you even thinking, that…that…”
“We’re thinking that we don’t want to attend your funeral!” Fred answered. He did not look guilty anymore. He looked almost angry, but it was not exactly that. It was enough to make Jack go silent. Then Fred’s voice went quieter, and he said, “We’re thinking we care about you. We’re thinking we want you safe and well. We’re thinking that if there’s anything we can do to keep you safe and well we’re going to do it. Even if you get angry.”
“I…sorry,” was all Jack could think to say, because he did not like his friends being upset and he suddenly felt like he had done something wrong after all. Even if they were still wrong about him being delicate.
Fred sighed. “That’s not…just…let us fuss sometimes. We can’t stop you from falling into fountains or rescuing kittens or…or… tripping over penguins…”
“That was one time!”
“But we can fuss over you after, even when you turn out fine. Let us?”
“That is entirely unfair and underhanded,” Jack said, sitting back down on his chair with his arms crossed. “And I don’t need the blanket.” He picked his tea back up and drank another sip.
“Course it is,” said Fred. “Bert taught me.”
In the end, they did go back to the park, leeries and Banks together and they all had a wonderful time and not one of them came down with a sniffle after.
And Angus did not kill Sean and neither did any of the other leeries because Jack gave them a very sincere and well thought out lecture on all the ways that the ridiculous rumor that Jack was prone to coming down ill was utterly wrong and this proved it because he had gotten soaked through and had not the slightest cough.
“Of course we know you’re wealthy as gorse,” Angus assured him. “Here, I saved you a spot by the stove. Sean was just having a laugh about all the little accidents you get yourself into. Tea?”
“I’ll take one,” said Sean from his somewhat chilly perch in the drafty corner beneath the window.
“Sorry, this pot’s empty. We’ll have to brew a fresh pot.”
Everyone was fine and not ill and a wonderful evening was had by all.