Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Pat looked up at the beautiful red-brick facade. Mid-17th century he had been told on his first visit.

Button House appeared far less gloomy in the sunlight. The first time he had been here, almost two weeks ago, it had been drizzling. Dark clouds overhead had threatened a proper downpour. The perfect mood for a horror film. There had been a real sense that there could be a ghost around every corner. It had made Pat uncertain whether this could be a place to work and live at.

He still wasn't sure. Now that the sun was shining down on him though, Button House, at least, appeared less threatening. The white-framed windows looking down on him almost seemed less like gaping, empty eyes and more like, well, normal windows. And the ivy climbing up the facade looked less dead. Lush almost.

With one last glance at the house, Pat breathed in some courage and walked over to the front door. The gravel of the driveway crunched underneath his feet.

Before Pat could remember the location of the doorbell, the double doors opened to reveal Lady Button. Owner of the Button House Estate. And his new boss. Her dog Dante, a small, fluffy thing, immediately began circling Pat's legs.

Lady Button waved him inside without a word. But Pat was almost sure he could detect approval in her stony expression. Almost.

"Hello Lady Button," he greeted her cheerfully, entering the small dark foyer. He made a show of wiping his shoes on the large doormat that covered about two square metres of the entryway. It was probably there for a reason.

Dante gave a little yap, his tongue lolling out. Looked like Pat had passed his approval again. Or maybe the little tyke actually remembered him from last time.

"I appreciate your punctuality, Patrick," Lady Button commented in lieu of a greeting.

"I made sure to be here in time for the grand tour. Been looking forward to it." He did not mention that he had sat in his car in the visitors' car park for over an hour before their agreed meeting time. Punctuality was important but he had wanted to make absolutely sure that nothing short of an alien abduction could have stopped him from arriving to Button House and his new job on time. Not that he believed in alien abductions by the way.

Lady Button had offered to give Pat a proper tour of the manor. When he had visited Button House for his job interview, he had only really seen the common room that was now visible through the doorway to his left and the library with the attached office where the meeting had taken place. The photos of the rest of the house he had been found online looked very promising though.

The Lady herself was a bit of a formidable character. She was wearing a long grey dress, her greyish blonde hair pulled into an elaborate but strict hair style. During Pat's interview her face had been set in a permanent pout and at the time he had worried, entirely unwarranted since he was here now, that she did not think him a suitable applicant for the job. She was settling into a similar expression now, so maybe it was just the way her face rested.

"As you know," Lady Button began without much further ado, gesturing for him to follow her down a narrow hallway on his right, "Button House used to be entirely residential. We only opened to the public at the beginning of this year. There are still quite a few construction projects planned to improve the visitors' experience and make changes to the private areas for the current tenants. All of my employees are currently residing here, so you are in good company."

One of the benefits of working at Button House had been the option to rent a room and a shared en suite bathroom for a small reduction of his wages. With the current housing market being the way it was, it had seemed the ideal solution. Pat had, until now, been staying at a cheap Bed-and-Breakfast back in Reading. With this new job relocating him over an hour away, he would be able to take his time finding a suitable flat nearby.

Lady Button motioned to a set of wooden steps to her left as they passed by them. "These stairs date back to Tudor times. We include them in our tours for their historical value but otherwise the visitors will mostly use the main staircase in the West Wing. The door on the right leads down to the basement. Most of us don't see the need to go down there. Who knows what sorts of hideous creatures are hiding in the shadows." She visibly shuddered, then continued walking down the hall.

Pat's gaze lingered on the basement door for a second before following her. It was unlikely he would ever need to go down there anyway.

"These rooms on the right are used as storage rooms for the café. It just opened last month. We are still working on expanding our menu. We are mostly offering cakes and drinks at the moment. But Mary, our cook, is eager to include some lunch options soon."

Pat smiled at the memory of the chocolate cake he had enjoyed after his interview. He told Lady Button how he had gone for a second slice as she led him into one of the rooms off the hallway, Dante following right on their heels. She hummed, clearly pleased by his positive review.

"This is the private kitchen for all the residents. There is a shelf in the pantry with your name on it." She gestured to a door in the corner. "There is also a reserved space for you in one of the refrigerators. Kitchen wares are shared by all. I believe I do not have to tell you to clean up after yourself."

Pat decided to see the last part as a compliment to his perceived character and not as a threat. "No, ma'am."

"Good."

Lady Button proceeded to show him the café and the ground floor rooms that were part of the public tours. They featured different living and sleeping quarters throughout the centuries. Original furniture included. Henry VIII had once dined at the manor during his reign and there was an elaborate dining room set-up with all the food (its plastic equivalents rather) he had apparently consumed during his stay. Including a big roast swan.

"In your first two weeks you will be accompanying our other two guides on their tours to give you the chance to simply observe. One of them will then follow along on your own first few tours in case there are any questions. Have you had a chance to take a look at the digital booklet I e-mailed you?"

Pat nodded eagerly. "Yes, worked through it twice already." All 120 pages. Printed out, highlighted and page-marked. Lady Button gave him an approving look. "So much to learn," he continued. "I've never worked as a tour guide before. Makes me a bit nervous trying to remember it all."

"You won't have to include everything in your tour, of course," Lady Button told him. "Most people do not have the attention span. Simply stick to the main facts. That usually does it for most of them."

Had Lady Button actually just insulted the visitors? He sure as hell wasn't going to point that out to her. Just tried to be happy with the fact that he would not be required to memorise the 120-page book down to its last word.

They climbed up the aforementioned Tudor stairs. Dante comically struggled to climb up the high steps but refused to be carried when Lady Button sighed dramatically and bent down to pick him up. He had whined equally as dramatically until she had set him down again with an offended huff. Lady Button pointed out the construction taking place in the East wing of the first floor. A leaky roof had apparently done some damage to some of the rooms. "Hopefully we will be able to include them on the tour at some point. Or maybe turn them into more event rooms. We are, as of yet, undecided."

Next was a large room with dark red wallpaper and ornamental sofas. "We are now entering the ballroom. Our plan is to host wedding receptions here by the end of the year and our staff meetings take place here every Wednesday morning. The residents are allowed to use this room during closing hours. You will find most of them in the television room however."

Lady Button quickly led him down a short hallway and showed him the small room which only held hazardously filled shelves with worn paperbacks, a lumpy old couch and a decent-sized flat screen television perched on top of a chest of drawers. Since it was not open to the public, she had clearly not prioritised decorating in here.

Pat followed Lady Button back to the ballroom, past a grand staircase and through a locked door marked 'Staff only' into another hallway. "This is where most of the private sleeping quarters are located. There are two more bedrooms downstairs, including my own." She opened the door to one of the rooms and stepped inside. "This is one of the two rooms still unoccupied. They share a bathroom between them." She pointed to the door on the left. " You require a furnished room, correct?"

Pat nodded. "Yeah, don't have much in terms of furniture at the moment." He thought of the dingy room he had resided in until this very morning and let his eyes roam over the four-poster bed and the dresser next to it. There was also a cosy-looking armchair in the corner next to the window. "This'll do nicely."

"The other bedroom is next door. You can choose which one you would like. There are no more additions currently planned."

There was a more pressing matter at hand for Pat though. Something he had forgotten to mention when Lady Button had first offered him to reside in one of the rooms.

"Lady Button." The woman in question turned to face him from where she had been watching Dante sniff the floor boards. "I've got a son. Daley. He's five." Pat readjusted his glasses. A habit whenever he was especially nervous. "Would it be alright if he came to stay here sometimes? On the weekends? I was thinking of getting a pull-out couch maybe. My wi- well, ex-wife..." He had never thought that would be a term he would have to use to describe his own life, "and I agreed it would be best to let him stay in Reading for school and friends. But I get to have him every second weekend and some parts of the school holidays and I know it's not ideal and I will be looking for a fla-"

"Of course."

"Oh. Really?" Really?

"Yes, of course. Family is always welcome." And there definitely was some warmth in Lady Button's eyes. Pat was pretty sure about that.

"Oh thank you, Lady B." Pat noticed her frown and quickly corrected, "I mean Button. That is much appreciated. I promise he is a good lad and won't be any trouble."

"I'm sure he won't be." She moved towards the door. "Shall we finish up the tour? And then I'll get some of the others to help you with your belongings."

Pat followed after her. Lady Button proceeded to show him the downstairs library that he had seen before. He was free to borrow any book anytime, she told him. As long as he was careful and treated it with utmost care. Pat was more the cheap paperback kind of guy, so the books in the telly room were probably more his vibe.

They then entered the large common room he had seen from the entrance.

"And this is the drawing room. Along with the ballroom and the library this is the only part of the West wing open to the public."

Pat looked around as Lady Button spoke. Fancy sofas and armchairs that looked mighty uncomfortable with fancy, even more uncomfortable-looking cushions. The amount of frill probably did nothing for one's back if one were to lean against them. Which probably wasn't something one was supposed to do anyway. The fireplace looked nice though. A large dog bed sat right in front of it.

Just then Pat heard the front door out in the foyer creak open. Dante's ears immediately perked up at the sound. He must have identified the person entering by the single step they managed to take into the house before the dog started barking excitedly and sped towards the front door, little claws scratching against the stone tiles.

"Good day to you, Dante," the person, male by the sound of it, and very public school, greeted the animal before closing the door to reveal a man with wind-swept greying hair. He was wearing a dark green fleece jacket and tan cargo trousers. He carefully kneeled down to pet the dog. Pat heard his creaking knee joints from across the room.

"Oh, Captain!" Lady Button took a step or two towards the lobby to see the newcomer better. "Patrick is here."

There was a pointed silence from the foyer.

Okay. That was rude, right?

Lady Button released a long-suffering sigh that reminded Pat of his own mother before she addressed the man once more. "Would you mind getting Montague ready for me? I'd quite like to take advantage of the weather." She turned to Pat. "Montague is my best horse. We have a stable towards the back of the property."

Pat could only nod and smile. Apparently he now lived with people who owned their own horses and stable.

"Yes, no problem, Fan-" The man still squatting in the hallway with Dante briefly flicked his gaze towards them. "Lady Button." He then visibly braced himself before standing up again with a resounding crunch of his knees. Pat winced in sympathy.

Lady Button nodded. "Thank you, Captain. Shall we say in half an hour?"

The Captain, now standing as straight and stiff as a member of the King's Guard, focused on Lady B. and Pat suddenly realised that he had seen the man before. He had silently glowered at Pat from a corner of the office for the entire duration of Pat's interview with Lady Button. His hair had been neatly combed and forced into submission by, what Pat had assumed, an entire jar of Brylcreem. He had also been wearing suit trousers, a dress shirt and a tie. They had not exchanged a single word.

"I can drive you down there if you'd like," the man now said. It was hard to tell with his moustache but he might have been smiling. There was definitely a twinkle in his eyes. Maybe it was not the same bloke after all. The man from two weeks ago had not seemed the smiling type. He also did not give the impression of recognising Pat at all.

"Ah, no thank you." Lady Button clasped her hands together. "I detest that vehicle of yours. I'll be taking the car."

The man shrugged and then looked down at the dog that was excitedly weaving around his legs. "Come along, Dante. I'll be taking a detour through the kitchen." He turned and walked in the other direction, Dante doing his best to trip him up on the way.

Lady Button took two more steps as if to follow but then simply hollered after them: "No more than one, Captain!"

Pat could just make out the responding "Fanny, yes, Fanny!"

Lady Button tutted. "Well, he does like his treats." She turned her focus back to Pat who adjusted his glasses awkwardly.

"The dog or ...?" He trailed off for lack of a proper name.

"Both." Lady Button shook her head. "The Captain takes care of the gardens and grounds of the estate. He knows his manners but he does not like to use them." Her disapproval was palpable.

She gestured at the room. "The drawing room may also be used for after-hour activities. As long as it is always left in its original state." She pointedly looked at him as if to dare him to move a chair even an inch from its current position or smush one of the fancy pillows with his bottom.

"Feel free to explore the rest of the property at your own leisure," Lady Button went on. "One of the others might be willing to accompany you." Pat was sure that Brylcreem guy would definitely be up for that. He simply smiled in response.

Lady Button almost smiled back. "Will you be needing help carrying your possessions inside? I can get some of the others to help."

"Oh, that would be much appreciated. Ta muchly!"

By the time Pat drove his trusty and packed-to-the-roof Volkswagen up to the front door of Button House (Lady Button had insisted on saving them the long trips down to the visitor's car park where he had originally parked), there were five other employees waiting for him. They stood in a neat row behind Lady Button, like little soldiers. Thomas and Humphrey introduced themselves as the other two tour guides. Robin was the caretaker of Button House, Mary the cook and baker mentioned before by Lady B. and Kitty worked as a waitress in the café.

Lady Button then excused herself. She had a horse to ride after all. And they were left to sort Pat's possessions into his new home by themselves.

With all the helping hands it only took a few trips each before all of Pat's belongings were piled up in his new room. All the ones he had managed to fit into his car anyway. There were a few more things he would move here from his house, well, his ex-wife's house now, when he picked up Daley for a visit next time.

Mary left after that, declaring that she would be preparing 'the doughs'. Whatever that meant.

"You're coming to Pizza Night, right?" Humphrey asked Pat as they made up the bed with his brand new, freshly washed sheets.

"Pizza Night?" Pat had definitely registered the capital letters.

"Yeah, we all bring stuff for pizza, drink beer and have a grand old time. We start around six." Humphrey struggled to find his way around the fitted sheet and Pat quickly grabbed onto it to help. Those things were always putting up a fight.

Pizza Night sounded lovely. Might be a good way to get to know everyone a little better before his first day of work tomorrow. "Count me in."

The others cheered.

As Pat and Humphrey fought the sheet into submission (they had to pull it off again and rotate it by ninety degrees to make it fit properly), Thomas started a rant about Pat's supposedly deplorable taste in literature when the man opened the box that held his meagre collection of books. He became so animated that his dark brown curls bounced up and down with the movement. Thomas himself was an author in his free time apparently. He unpacked and placed the books on the dresser anyway so Pat did not mind his tirade too much. Maybe he could get a bookshelf when he went out to IKEA for the pull-out couch for Daley. And maybe a plant or two to liven things up.

Kitty and Robin meanwhile argued over how to organise Pat's socks into one of the drawers.

"We should organise them by the colours of the rainbow," Kitty proposed as they contemplated the contents of the suitcase in front of them. Pat only belatedly remembered that his pants were in that same suitcase.

"Can't remember colours of rainbow," Robin declared grumpily, folding his arms across his broad chest. His wild hair looked like he had been playing with an outlet when Lady Button had called him over.

"Oh, it's very easy. A friend told me a clever way to remember," Kitty reassured him. "You make a sentence with the same first letters. So it's 'Richard Of York Gave Battle In Vain'. So that's red, orange, yellow," she paused for a second or two, "grey, blue, indigo, v..." She trailed off.

"Very light blue," Robin offered enthusiastically, pointing at her.

"Yes!" Kitty clapped her hands excitedly. "A rainbow."

Pat turned to Humphrey who simply pulled an amused face. "Don't ask."

"Oh no." Robin and Kitty stared forlornly at the suitcase when they realised that Pat's socks were mostly beige, with some green and yellow ones mixed in.

Pat glanced out of the window as he moved away from his newly made bed. He had a lovely view of the gardens which were in full bloom at this time of year. Most of the space was simply covered with lush, green grass but he could also see a meadow with wildflowers and the orderly beds of a vegetable garden. There was a rose garden towards the back of the house that he had read about but it was not visible from this angle. Pat was sure he would enjoy his explorations of the grounds.

Just as he started to drift away from the window, Pat saw movements from the corner of his eye. The grey-haired groundsman from earlier leisurely walked into view, a long walking stick in his hand as if he was on a hike. Dante the dog, carrying a shorter stick in his snout, followed the man faithfully. They came to a stop near the wildflowers. The Captain seemed to be happy just watching nature for a bit but Dante had other ideas. The dog laid the stick on the ground and stared up at his companion expectantly. The Captain must have noticed because he bent down, picked up the stick and threw it to his left. Dante sped after it immediately.

"Have you met him yet?" Thomas had come to stand beside Pat at the window and peered outside.

"Not officially. No." Pat adjusted his glasses. "He was there during my interview with Lady Button but he never said a word." Their encounter earlier didn't count, did it?

Dante had retrieved the stick and the Captain threw it in the opposite direction.

"Oh, he still does that?" Humphrey joined them. "Did he glare really intensely?"

"Yeah." Pat huffed out a laugh. "I would have been nervous enough without him there. Lady Button was intense enough."

Humphrey shook his head, half amused. "I'd hoped Lady B had forbidden him from attending interviews with potential employees. Puts most of them off, I imagine."

Pat could definitely see that happening. It had put him off a bit.

"Humphrey once thought he was going to murder us all in a mass shooting," Thomas declared gleefully. "Very American."

"What?" Pat turned to Humphrey. "What made you think that?"

Humphrey put up his hands in defence. "Saw him walking around with a shotgun." Then he shrugged nonchalantly. "Turns out he had to shoot a pigeon that the neighbour's dog had got to."

They all hummed in harmonised sympathy. It wasn't quite clear to Pat whether it was for the pigeon or the man who had to put the poor thing out of its misery.

"So," Pat spoke up after a moment of quiet communal contemplation, "do you all call him 'The Captain'? Or is that a thing between him and Lady Button?"

Thomas sighed dramatically. "He never introduced himself to any of us, so we just go with what we've been given by context."

That sounded a bit weird. Was that weird? He had tried to not let the Captain's dismissive behaviour from earlier get to him.

"Well, at least it's nothing personal," Pat mumbled.

Pizza Night was always a bit of an event at Button House.

At some point a few months ago, when it had only been Robin, Humphrey and Mary, the tradition had silently established itself without much ado. Kitty and Thomas had immediately joined in when they had moved in only a week apart from each other. They now met in the kitchen every Tuesday evening to roll out Mary's pizza dough and choose their toppings before catching up with each other (not that any of them ever really went anywhere to report back anything exciting) while the pizza baked in the ovens. Button House was closed to the public on Mondays and Tuesdays and most of its employees would have these two days as their weekend. Therefore, Pizza Night was a last celebration of freedom before the start of another work week.

Humphrey lazily sipped on his beer as he watched Robin and Mary argue over the combination of kiwi and ham as toppings. Weirder choices have been made in the past. The pineapple-on-pizza debate at Button House had quickly evolved into a challenge to find the most outrageous but actually delicious pizza topping. Robin and Mary were the most dedicated contestants in this competition. Humphrey was almost sure that they were both in fact arguing in favour of the kiwi-ham combination. They were too busy throwing little pieces of fruit around the kitchen to listen to each other.

"Hello!" Humphrey turned when he heard a cheerful voice behind him. Pat was standing in the doorway, awkwardly pulling on his beige shorts as he observed the scene taking place in the room. His big cuddly jumper, large aviator glasses and bushy moustache made him look like such a dad. Humphrey was surprised Pat hadn't pulled up with five kids in tow. And a mini-van. He did have one though. A kid. Humphrey had helped arrange Pat's picture frames around the room. Pat had not shut up about his son for about an hour afterwards.

"Ah! New guy!" Robin waved the man over to the table. "You tell Mary kiwiwi good on pizza."

Pat gingerly stepped into the kitchen, visibly looking for clues as to how to proceed.

Mary inadvertently came to his aid. " That's what I says. Kiwis be always goods. Especiallys with hams."

That started a whole new argument about who had not been listening to whom. Pat slowly made his way to Humphrey's side. He had obviously concluded that they were both the only sane minds in the room and had to create an alliance against the madness unfolding in front of them. More kiwi pieces went flying.

"Want a beer?" Humphrey got up to walk to the fridge and pull out a can off his personal shelf. He held it up for the other man to see.

"Oh, thank you." Pat smiled gratefully. Then he looked at the pile of ingredients on the kitchen counter. "I'm sorry I didn't bring anything. I haven't had time to run to the shops."

Humphrey slunk back to the table, opening the beer and handing it over. "That's alright. You have the new guy bonus. You'll be getting away with anything for a while."

Just then Kitty and Thomas entered the room. The latter, realising that he now had a proper audience, immediately adopted a dramatic pose and began a lyrical monologue about whatever topic he was feeling especially tender about today. Humphrey had quickly mastered the art of tuning him out. Thomas was an alright bloke but his poetry was simply exhausting.

Lady Button, shadowed by Dante, joined them only moments later.

They had originally only invited her out of sheer politeness once they had realised that Pizza Night was evolving into a regular thing. It would have been rude to exclude the other residents of the house. None of them had really expected Lady Button to actually attend. She always gave the air of a stuffy and strict lady that would prefer not to deal with the peasants. Her judgemental facial expressions were the stuff of legends.

But, as it turned out, she seemed quite happy to mingle with her employees. She only raised a stern eyebrow at their jokes and wrinkled her nose in disdain whenever someone used improper grammar. Other than that, she appeared to enjoy being part of the group. More reserved than the others but not shy to make conversation.

They all eventually found a seat around the large kitchen table and most of them (Robin and Mary were still too busy arguing but they had at least stopped throwing fruit when Lady Button had entered the room) grabbed hold of a cutting board and a knife to prepare the pizza toppings. Dante weaved between their chairs in the hopes of falling debris.

Lady Button leaned forward a bit to be able to speak to Pat. "Has the Captain spoken with you?"

Pat looked up from the onion he was cutting and raised his eyebrows in surprise. "The Captain? No, he didn't. Haven't really seen him since I arrived. Did he need something?"

Humphrey knew Lady Button well enough to see the flicker of an emotion cross her face but not well enough to tell which one it was. She pulled her shoulders back a bit before she answered. "I told him to get you a parking badge for the residents' car park. I'll remind him again in the morning."

"Isn't he joining us?" Pat moved to take a casual sip from his beer. The can stopped mid-way to his mouth when he realised that an awkward silence had fallen over their little group. It was an innocent enough question. All the other residents of Button House were here after all.

Humphrey decided to save their evening, hoping that the others would simply play along and not start another argument. "The Captain's not really one for pizza." Pat's face formed into an expression of confusion. Apparently he too had never met anyone who turned down pizza."And he's the only one who works on Tuesdays, so he's usually tired."

These were not excuses the Captain himself had come up with. Humphrey and the others had repeatedly invited him to their social events and every single time he had simply told them "No, thank you". Even Kitty had gotten the message eventually and stopped bothering to ask.

Pat frowned down at his onion for a bit. Luckily everyone else was quickly distracted by Thomas who had a sudden cheese-inspired poem to present to the group.

There came a point in the evening when Humphrey could no longer deny the fact that he had downed three cans of beer. He heaved a sigh, thinking of the long trek up the stairs to the closest toilet and excused himself.

Once business was taken care of, Humphrey trotted back down the creaking Tudor stairs. Even after living in this place for months, the noises the house made still gave him the creeps. He always made sure to turn all the available lights on once it got dark outside. He wanted to see the ghosts before they scared him to death.

Just as Humphrey reached the hallway that would lead him back to the kitchen, he heard the front door open. He tiptoed closer to the foyer to make sure that the person entering the house was in fact the one person who was likely to enter the house at this time of night. And not a burglar prepared to rob the expensive but also very uncomfortable furniture.

Humphrey silently watched the figure in question as they wiped their boots on the doormat, a long wooden stick held in their right hand. He couldn't make out any identifying features due to the hood of a rain jacket covering everything important. It was clearly raining outside, the dark coat was covered in a glistening sheen of moisture visible even in the gloomy darkness of the entryway. Not everyone was afraid of ghosts, it seemed.

The person finally revealed himself to be indeed the Captain when he pulled the hood back to expose his dark silver hair.

Humphrey cleared his throat to let the other man know that he was not alone. The Captain jumped back, meeting the closed front door with a bang and a curse.

"What the bally hell are you playing at?" The Captain straightened into his familiar military posture, the stick brandished in front of him like a weapon once he had recovered from the shock. He glared down the hallway.

Humphrey stepped forward to make sure he would be seen. "Sorry, it's just me." Not that the Captain would be comforted by that fact. Indeed, the man seemed to want to morph into the door he had just bumped into.

"Sorry," Humphrey said again when it became clear that the other man had nothing to say. "There's some pizza left if you want some." He pointed towards the kitchen behind him. Humphrey had never actually seen the Captain in the kitchen, so maybe he didn't know where it was? Which, of course, he did. He must know. The Captain had lived here longer than any of them. Maybe including Lady B. "And we're gonna do cake for Pat in a minute," Humphrey went on when no response filled his pause. "I helped Mary bake this morning. As a welcome gift, you know? You could join us if you'd like. It's chocolate cake. Just for a few minutes if you're tired."

Why did he even mention all this? He knew what the response was going to be. It was always the same. But he had asked anyway. Because he liked to think of himself as a decent human being. And it was common courtesy to invite your housemate to a social event everyone else was partaking in. Even if that housemate usually behaved like a bit of a prick and never showed any kind of interest in these sorts of activities or any of them as individuals.

A few seconds passed.

"No, thank you."

Humphrey could not quite make out the Captain's facial features, especially once the man bent down and proceeded to pull off his muddy Wellington boots. Which was as clear a dismissal as a "Fuck off" would have been.

"Feel free to join us if you change your mind," Humphrey grumbled out, far less polite than the rest of his part in this conversation had been. With one last glance towards the man on the doormat, Humphrey turned and walked back to the kitchen, just about resisting to call the Captain a twat under his breath.

None of them knew what the bloke's problem was. Robin, shortly followed by Humphrey because his brother had been lovely enough to mention Humphrey's history degree to Lady B, had been the first to get hired at Button House. The Captain had already been stomping his way across the grounds by then. In the beginning, Humphrey had suspected him to simply be impossibly shy. But any effort to give the man an opportunity to connect with the rest of them had been shot down immediately. By now, Humphrey was ready to reach the conclusion that the Captain was just an arrogant arsehole.

"Prick," Humphrey mumbled just as he reached the kitchen. He should stop thinking about their resident prat. There was cake waiting after all.

Chapter Text

Pat's first day of work at Button House started with a staff meeting at nine ó clock. Nine ó clock sharp. Lady Button had been very clear about that. She had also mostly addressed Humphrey and Robin when she had sternly reminded them all during Pizza Night yesterday.

So Pat had set his alarm a little earlier than was probably necessary to make absolutely sure he would not be late. Good thing he would not have to worry about traffic. The perks of working from home, ay?

He dressed in his favourite beige jumper and a nice shirt underneath (in case it got warm and he was forced to take the jumper off later). And trousers of course. Couldn't go without those, right? Luckily, his old job at the bank had left him with quite a selection of proper pairs. He smiled at the way Robin and Kitty had attempted to arrange not only his socks by the colours of the rainbow but in fact all of his clothes. Even his pants. And they had not made a single comment about some of the more special ones. His favourite pair, the red ones with little cartoon fried eggs on them, he was wearing right now of course. To bring him luck on his first day.

Pat then trundled downstairs and grabbed some Weetabix in the kitchen while he listened to Thomas sing along to Kylie Minogue playing on the radio. That man had a lovely singing voice.

Now he sat on one of the fancy sofas in the ballroom (careful not to squish the dainty looking pillows) and waited for the rest of the employees to file in. Thomas had followed him upstairs, a large cup of coffee in his hand, and was now quoting his favourite song lyrics at him. Pat threw in a half-hearted "Oh, I know that one" or "Wow, that's really deep if you think about it" as he waited for the others to arrive. Thomas did not really require a conversation partner. He barely seemed to notice if someone said anything once he got going.

The Captain, dressed in the same get-up as yesterday, had already been skulking around the room when Pat and Thomas got there. Their greetings to him had been gruffly returned. Which was an improvement to whatever had been going on yesterday. He had then found something interesting outside the window to stare at in an obvious attempt to avoid any further interaction.

Kitty walked in next and immediately started giving her own opinions on the so far one-sided music conversation. Pat complemented her on the lovely purple dress she was wearing today. She giggled shyly. Mary and Humphrey (who looked like he had just rolled out of bed and not had time to sort out his rather epic bed hair, emphasising the familial traits he shared with his brother Robin) sat down on the opposite sofa and quickly got invested in the discussion as well. Turned out that Mary favoured a bit of Heavy Metal now and then. Bit of a dark horse she was.

Lady Button entered the room almost regally. It actually looked like she was floating. But then, long dresses that hid your feet from view did have that effect sometimes. Still looked cool though. Dante, bless the poor thing, immediately made a beeline for the Captain, who was still standing close to the window, making the impression of a human equivalent of a ruler. The dog looked up at him for a second and then sat down at the man's feet.

"Where's Robin?" Lady Button made a show of looking around the room in quite obvious irritation. "It's two minutes to nine." Pat would never dare to point out that she herself had arrived less than thirty seconds ago.

Everyone murmured their ignorance on the whereabouts of Button House's caretaker. Pat felt himself immediately transported back to Sixth Form where the scrupulous headmistress would send you to detention for showing up with just a few seconds to spare before the bell rang.

Lady Button turned to the Captain, who grumbled something into his moustache and pulled a walkie-talkie from his belt. He audibly pushed some buttons before raising the device to his mouth.

"Robin, come in, please."

A few seconds ticked by and Lady Button's irritation visibly rose with every single one. Her pout grew ever more pronounced until the walkie-talkie finally crackled to life.

"What you want?" Robin, inexplicably, sounded just as annoyed as Lady Button looked.

The Captain rolled his eyes. "You are late for the staff meeting. Again. Over."

Pat concluded that this was far worse than school. Two stuffy head teachers to contend with.

"Still got minute. Me be there." Those walkie-talkies were of great quality actually, Pat thought. Robin's voice was transmitted clear as day. Not like the ones Pat had always used with his scout group. Those had been more of the toy variety.

"Hurry up," was all the Captain had to say, very unamused. "Over and out."

An uncomfortable silence fell as they waited. Even Thomas had ceased his chatter and now stared at the carpet with wide brown eyes while he fidgeted with the sleeves of his white dress shirt. He was wearing a brown waistcoat with a faint floral pattern on top of it. Pat was sure he had never seen someone wear a waistcoat outside a wedding before. Thomas pulled it off though.

Robin stomped into the room just as Pat's watch changed to 9:00 am and threw himself onto the sofa between Humphrey and Mary, squishing his brother into the cushions in the process.

"Had light bulb to fix in basement," he explained. "Think I saw ghost."

Mary and Kitty nodded as if that was something that happened regularly around here.

Lady Button swallowed her reprimand and began the meeting. "As you all know, Patrick has joined us here at Button House. For the next two weeks he will shadow Humphrey and Thomas on their tours. Make sure you make him feel welcome." She turned a bit to the side to make eye contact with the Captain. Interesting. "Patrick, if you have any questions, all of us will be happy to help."

The Captain looked absolutely thrilled to hear that.

Lady Button went on with some general announcements about upcoming visits from different school groups and an update on the preparations for an Open-House event taking place at Button House in a couple of weeks.

"Any other business?" She let her gaze wander over the group.

"I've got something, actually." The Captain marched over to stand next to her, his moustache displaying an aura of determination.

"Oh boy," Pat heard one of the others whisper. Maybe Humphrey.

"Somebodys be smokings again?" Mary asked.

"I do hate to repeat myself," the Captain began and this time it was definitely Humphrey who groaned. The Captain flitted his eyes over to him for a second before returning to address the group at large. "The amount of cigarette butts that I am forced to pick out of the gravel every day has not decreased. Not quite what one would imagine after I have raised the issue twice already. In fact, it now not only concerns that one particular corner of the café terrace but also the fountain near the main entrance to the house an-"

"It no work anyway," Robin interrupted.

The Captain fixed his fiery glare on him. "How is that relevant right now?" He shifted his weight from foot to foot. "And even if it had been working, the cigarette butts would have clogged the pipes by now. Which would be your problem, by the way." The Captain put on a condescending fake smile. "Because anything electric is your responsibility."

"But is outside," Robin huffed, crossing his arms. "Your problem."

Pat turned to see what Lady Button thought of this clearly long-ongoing argument as the two men bickered on. She was standing off to the side and performed the biggest eye roll a human being was capable of. To Pat's surprise she did not put a stop to the squabble.

The others appeared to be of a similar disposition. Thomas just stared at the ceiling with vacant eyes while Humphrey did his best to put some distance between himself and an increasingly gesticulating Robin. Kitty had pulled out her phone and was scrolling enthusiastically through the socials. Only Mary appeared captivated by the two grown men arguing over a garden fountain. She nodded along and hmmd and aahd when one of them presented a good point.

As a whole, this interaction seemed to be taken with the same level of painful endurance as Thomas's poem about cheese had been last night.

"Look. No more cigarette butts in the fountain, alright?" The Captain sounded a bit out of breath. "Or the café terrace. Or the car park. That's all I ask." He glanced at the rest of the group for a second before refocusing on Robin.

"Wasn't me." Robin pouted and turned away from him. Quieter he said, "Was me." Then he fist-bumped Mary.

"Smokings be not good for you," she announced loudly and the two of them visibly struggled to suppress their giggles.

Pat narrowed his eyes at them. And then he saw the Captain do the same. His eyes flitted over to Lady Button but she seemed unwilling to help resolve whatever was going on. So the Captain huffed in annoyance and stomped out of the room.

That effectively ended the staff meeting.

Pat followed Humphrey and Thomas downstairs to one of the staff cupboards. He was handed a lanyard with a name badge, which he hung around his neck, and a walkie-talkie. They told him it was mostly for emergencies. He was still thrilled. Walkie-talkies were cool. Especially the ones where you could actually understand what the person on the other end was saying.

And then it was on to the first tour of the day. Pat was pleased to realise that many of the facts Humphrey provided for the visitors were not unfamiliar to him. Reading Lady Button's manual again last night before bed had done him good.

Pat then realised that he was expected to rattle off these facts on his own tours very soon. And not die of nervousness while he was at it. Watching Humphrey nonchalantly answer every single question thrown at him by the guests, made Pat sweat a bit. He told himself he would be reading that manual again and again for the foreseeable future.

They had a quick lunch in the kitchen together after which Humphrey showed him the rose garden Pat had desperately wanted to see. The flowers of white and pink were beautifully accentuated by the lavender growing around the edges. And the place was humming with bumblebees and butterflies.

The Captain might be rude but garden he could.

Pat's second tour of the day, led by Thomas, was quite the experience. The man's attempt to strike up random conversations about poetry with unsuspecting guests was both hilarious and a bit cringeworthy. It seemed that, in Thomas's eyes at least, good prose always rhymed so he came up with the most outrageous out-of context rhymes as they went along. The visitors seemed to be having a good enough time though.

Afterwards, as tours had ended for the day but the house was still open to visitors, Pat accompanied Thomas on his rounds through the rooms to be available for guests with questions and to keep an eye on them at the same time. There were quite a few individuals who were looking for a more tactile experience with the especially breakable objects in the exhibit.

Counting his first day of work as a success and thanking the other two guides for letting him tag along, Pat went out to his car. A trip to the shops was in order to fill up his shelves in the pantry and the fridge.

As Pat drove down the long drive that would lead him to the main street and the local Sainsbury's, he spotted a lone figure with a walking stick coming towards him.

The Captain stepped onto the grass on the side of the drive to let him pass but did not acknowledge him otherwise. He very pointedly stared at an empty field as Pat drove past.

A day later a forceful knock disrupted Pat's evening reading routine. He put down his papers and hopped to the door as he tried to regain control of his left slipper.

The Captain stared at him for a concerningly long moment and then shoved a small piece of thick paper at him. Without a greeting. Or saying anything at all. Pat glanced down at whatever he was now holding. It had the Button House logo printed on it and an illegible signature at the bottom.

"It's a parking badge." Oh, the Captain was still capable of speech then. "Put it up on your dashboard. Visibly." The man's voice matched his disgruntled expression. Understandable. He was still in his work clothes at almost ten in the evening.

Pat did not see the need for parking badges when there was a limited amount of cars to keep track of. He could already identify the vehicles of all the other residents (Kitty and the man in front of him did not appear to own one). Surely the Captain (who else would stalk the car park for unauthorised parking violations?) could manage to do the same.

Because he did not fancy a debate on the matter this late at night, Pat simply thanked him.

The Captain blinked down at him. He looked like he wanted to say something else. He even opened his mouth as if to speak but then simply stomped off without a single word uttered.

"Good night then," Pat called after him, just to show him how it was done.

The next morning the Captain accosted Pat in the kitchen just as he was preparing his tea.

"You have not displayed your parking permit yet."

Pat blinked down at his tea for a second. What did that man have against simple greetings? "It's not even nine in the morning, mate." Pat just about managed to cover his yawn with his hand. Which just proved his point, didn't it?

The Captain spread out his arms and did a little full-body wiggle, his eyebrows doing their best to migrate as far down his face as possible. "That is not an excuse, is it?"

"Right." Pat had not been prepared to argue with the man last night and he was not prepared to do it now. "I'll take my tea and do it now, alright?"

The Captain let out a noise that might have been an agreement before his eyes fell on Pat's mug.

"Is that how you prepare your tea?" His voice almost resembled a shriek.

Pat leaned over to see the contents of his mug. Tea the colour of a buff envelope. Just how it's supposed to be. "Yes. Why?"

The Captain did a full body shudder, indignation displayed with every spluttering sound he made. Was he having a stroke?

"What's wrong with me tea?" Pat squawked. He could not believe this man. Not giving anyone the time of day, or his name, come to think of it, but being offended by how someone decided to drink their tea.

"What's wrong with it?" The Captain calmed down his odd bouncing a bit to point at the mug with affront. "It's the wrong colour for a start. It should be brick red."

No way.

"What are you on about? It's the perfect colour." Buff envelope, right there!

"No, it should be brick red. One lump. Two, if you're on manoeuvres. Or you're having a bad day."

"That's just wrong." This was wrong on so many levels actually.

The Captain looked up sharply. "How dare you tell me how to make tea?"

What? It had been the Captain who had started this whole debate. "I'm from Yorkshire, mate," Pat bit back. "I'm practically made of tea." There. That would show him.

"I don't have to listen to this." The Captain turned and stormed out of the kitchen.

Kitty must have bumped into him out in the hallway because she walked into the kitchen only a few seconds later.

"The Captain seems very angry this morning." She said this as if she had just told Pat that the sun was shining.

Pat smiled at her a bit strained and then sipped on his perfectly prepared tea. Good stuff.

Pat's next two weeks at Button House passed in a blur. With every day he grew a bit more confident that he might actually be able to pull off this whole tour guide thing. He could now mumble along to Humphrey (Thomas was still too extreme) as they led guests through the house. He even managed to answer most of the questions the visitors had for them.

Another Pizza Night was had where Pat provided the drinks to thank everyone (everyone present that is) for their warm welcome. He hadn't expected the transition to be this easy. Before his relocation to Button House, he had dreaded the finality of the move. A new job, a new place to live. Far away from his family. When he had lived at the B&B, it had all felt very temporary, a constant state of in-between. Maybe he had hoped, or at least dreamed, that things would go back to normal. That they would go back to being a family. Together. That all seemed even more unlikely now.

Pat had expected to cry into his pillow every night because of it. Like he had when it all first happened. He had sat in his tiny B&B room, alone, and ended up buying his own pillow after about a week. It had disappeared into the wardrobe every morning because Pat had feared that the maid who cleaned his room would ask questions about the stains.

But Pat, when reviewing the last fortnight, could honestly say that he hadn't actually cried all that much. When there wasn't Pizza Night, there was usually at least one of the others who would watch the football with him in the telly room. Some of them had joined him when 'Top Gun' had been on the other day. And Humphrey and Thomas had accompanied him to Sainsbury's last night and that had been the best night he'd had in a long time. Because those lads were always good for a laugh. So he was just too busy to think about his sad little life really. Pat knew it wouldn't last but it was nice to get away from it all for a bit. Like a holiday.

He did not have any more interactions with the Captain. He only really saw the man during the staff meetings where the Captain either sat stiffly in one of the window seats far away from everyone else or stood next to Lady Button to lay out his grievances. The general state of the outside seating area of the café, the volume of the television, the way Robin had taken up too much parking space again. Pat was surprised he did not pop out a PowerPoint presentation to educate everyone on the only correct way to prepare tea. But the problem with the cigarette butts had not resolved itself yet and it remained very high on the Captain's complaint agenda. So he probably hadn't had time yet.

Other than that, Pat was starting to feel properly settled in. Which is why he decided it was high time Daley came to visit.

Since Pat now worked on Saturday and Sunday and Daley had school to attend, visitations would be limited to school holidays and short stays on weekends.

Carol had kindly agreed to make the drive from Reading to Button House this Saturday afternoon to drop Daley off. Pat suspected that she was curious about where he had ended up living. Since his first tour did not start until twelve on Sunday, Pat would drive Daley back in the morning.

The last two hours of his shift on Saturday Pat spent nervously bouncing from room to room among the mingling visitors. He would look out the windows of the ballroom to check if Daley and Carol had arrived yet. He was excited to give Daley his own personal tour around the house and take him behind-the-scenes so to speak. He had not yet managed to get a pull-out sofa for his room but he knew Daley would be thrilled to share a bed with his old dad for now.

Just as Pat was committing himself to another round of the rooms, Lady Button glided in.

"Patrick, I believe there is someone here to see you." She nodded towards the doorway behind her.

Pat could feel his whole face light up and before he knew it, his arms were full of little boy.

"Da, I missed you." Daley's face was pressed into his shoulder but Pat managed to hear the words perfectly well.

"I missed you even more, petal."

"No," Daley giggled. "I missed you more." This was their little game they had come up with recently.

"You sure? Because I missed you loads." He really, really had. A year ago Pat could have never imagined not seeing his own child every day. Not living in the same house as him. But this was his reality now. He had not cuddled his little boy in almost three weeks. They had survived it somehow. But he never wanted to go through that again.

"I missed you loads times two, Da." Daley sounded as close to tears as Pat felt. Never again.

Pat pressed a kiss to his son's hair, its colour so close to his own. "Alright, you win this round, mate."

He straightened up, making sure Daley was steady on his feet to greet Carol with an awkward wave. Despite everything that had happened between them, he could never imagine being uncivil to her. He had loved this woman for years. Maybe still did.

Yeah, he definitely did. But interactions now were a bit stilted. Pat just wasn't sure how to behave around her anymore. And the feeling was probably mutual.

"Nice house, Pat," Carol said, glancing around the Regency era room. She smiled and it actually looked genuine.

"I know, right?" Pat glanced at his watch awkwardly. Daley had a tight grip on his hand. "I got a few more minutes and then I'll give you a tour."

Lady Button, who had kept herself in the background to watch them, stepped a little closer. "Go ahead, Patrick. We can manage the last half hour without you."

"Oh, really?"

"Of course." She waved her hand towards the door. "Do not tell the others though. They'll be getting ideas."

"Oh, thank you Lady Button." Pat picked Daley up and slung him over his shoulder. "Straight onto the tour then. This way!"

He started them off in the drawing room and then led Carol and Daley through the public rooms first. Most of them were already empty as it was getting near closing time.

Humphrey and Thomas were still about of course, so Pat made quick introductions before they creaked their way up the Tudor stairs. Which Daley loved.

"This is really nice, Pat. I'm glad you found this place." Carol set down Daley's overnight bag on the freshly washed covers of Pat's bed.

Would be nicer to be home with you, Pat thought bitterly. He tried to smile anyway. No use dwelling on it. Carol had made it quite clear what she thought about their marriage. And yet, she still pretended that they were good friends. She asked after his well-being, expressed concern for his living arrangements, appeared ecstatic about his new job and just now had asked him so many questions about the history of the house as if she really cared about what he had to say. Pat knew he should appreciate her efforts. If not for his own sake, then at least for Daley's.

His son had run over to the window and now stood on his tiptoes to look outside. "Can we go see the garden, Da? I see flowers."

"Yeah, of course. Maybe we can say goodbye to Mummy downstairs and then I'll show you around."

He did not want to appear rude and push Carol out of the door like that. But his time with Daley was limited as it was and he did not want to spend it reminiscing about his failed marriage.

Luckily, Carol took the hint and the three of them made their way down to the visitors' car park.

"I'll have him back with you around ten tomorrow, if that's alright?" Pat told her as she deposited her handbag on the passenger seat. "Gotta be back here by noon."

"Yeah, that's fine. If you come by a little early we could all have breakfast together."

All would include Maurice of course. Pat had no desire to see him. Or waste any more of the precious time he had with Daley to have breakfast with his ex-wife. Technically still his wife. They were not fully divorced yet. That was taking ages.

He pretended to think about it and then scrunched up his nose. "Probably won't be out of here before nine I don't think. Getting dressed, packing up and all that. Maybe another time."

Maybe there would be a point in the future where he could look at the woman in front of him and not want to start crying.

"Alright. I'll see you tomorrow then." Carol did not sound particularly disappointed. She turned to Daley and pulled him into a hug.

Pat and Daley waved her off and then walked back up the drive towards the house for a tour of the gardens. The roses were 'pretty', according to Daley, but not as interesting as the vegetable garden where, Pat was certain, his son snuck a couple of strawberries into his mouth despite Pat telling him not to. Who knew what the Captain would do to them if he saw. They then made a good attempt at identifying the wildflowers. Pat was certain he had a book about that somewhere. As a Cub Scout leader he was expected to know his flowers.

"I'm gonna bring my football next time, Da," Daley panted after zooming around the massive field of grass for way longer than Pat's lungs thought was necessary. They had played hide-and-seek which the gardens were perfect for with all their hedges and bushes. Pat had even found some statues that he had not noticed before and he wondered whether any of them had any historical significance. He should ask Humphrey.

Now they were on their way back inside for dinner.

Pat wondered what the resident gardener would have to say if he and Daley had a bit of a kick-about. Not on the front lawn of course. Lady Button mentioned that that part of the estate was off limits for everyone on a regular basis. Most of Button House's inhabitants ignored her fairly routinely and stepped on it anyway. And the visitors just didn't know any better because Lady Button did not wish to sully the landscape with 'Keep off the lawn' signs.

"Maybe we can go and buy you a new football next time you come 'round, yeah? So you have one here and one at Mummy's." Daley would have two of everything now. Two footballs, two Christmases, two homes. Pat tried to avoid thinking about the fact that there was also a second father figure in the picture somewhere.

Daley lit up as he skipped along. "Do I get to pick one, Da?" How was he still skipping? Where did all this energy come from? Pat was jealous. He was so out of breath.

"Of course. It's your football, mate."

"Football?" A new voice called after them. Pat turned to see Robin jog towards them, hair as wild as ever. "Who playing football? Can I play too?"

"Da's gonna get me a new ball," Daley explained. "I get to pick. What colour should I get?" Only his son would get the advice of a complete stranger for such an important decision. Pat proudly laid his arm around Daley's little shoulders.

"Hmm." Robin made a show of thinking very hard about this as they stood in the corridor near the kitchen. "What your favourite team?"

"Huddersfield FC of course. Like my da." Pat could not help but grin when Daley looked up at him.

"Dat good team," Robin said, his facial expression revealing that he had never even heard of them. "What their colours?"

"Blue and white. Like my kit. I got it for Christmas." Their last Christmas together. When they had all still been happy. Well. Carol hadn't been, had she?

"Wow, you show me sometime, okay?"

They moved into the kitchen together where Humphrey and Thomas both sat at the table in the process of preparing their respective dinners.

"Oooohhh." Robin pointed at Thomas excitedly. "Thomas show you cool trick. He best at uppie-keepie."

"Really?" Daley scooted up to the man in question. "How long can you do it?"

"Well." Thomas methodically placed down the knife he was using to cut up some carrots. "I can never quite get to the answer." He waved his arms around in a dramatic gesture. Good thing he had put away the knife first. "Because I keep getting interrupted and lose count." He pointedly looked first at Robin who shrugged and then at Humphrey who immediately held up his hands defensively.

"Not my fault the wasp kept trying to attack us, mate."

Pat pulled some ingredients off his shelf in the pantry as he listened to his housemates bicker. Spaghetti Bolognese for tea tonight. Daley's favourite.

"I wish you would all just hush during my next attempt. I cannot work with all that agitation." Thomas picked up the knife and went back to his cutting.

Humphrey hummed. "We'll have to get a new ball first. Mary or Robin do, anyway. We still don't know who managed to pop it in the end."

"Wasn't me," Robin claimed, hands on his hips, furry eyebrows drawn together.

"My da is going to get me a ball," Daley announced happily.

The others cheered. Pat could not recall exactly how it happened but by the time he carried his half-asleep son upstairs for bed later in the evening, a whole event around the acquisition of a new football for Button House had been planned out.

And so, two weeks later, Button House seemed to be buzzing with excitement. Last minute preparations for tonight's football match had taken place during lunch hour. Lady Button was unable to attend the event itself (due to some posh people gathering) but she had kindly given them her blessing when they had mentioned it to her during Pizza Night. As long as they stayed off the front lawn of course. She had even let Pat take the Saturday afternoon off to pick Daley up from Reading and take him out to purchase the highly anticipated football.

The kid now strode into Button House fully dressed in his blue and white Huddersfield FC kit, his matching football tugged safely under his arm.

Button House was still officially open and most of the others were working, so Pat hustled his son into the kitchen for now. He set him up with some apple juice and reminded him that the football was an outside toy and not to be moved from where it was proudly sitting in the centre of the table under any circumstances.

"I'll take your bag upstairs and change really quick, alright? Do not touch the football!" Pat instructed his son sternly.

Daley nodded into his juice. He was usually well-behaved, so he would probably be alright for a few minutes.

Pat hurried upstairs and changed into some sportier gear. Shorts and a t-shirt would do. And some rarely used trainers. Except for the odd kick-about on the playground with Daley, Pat really wasn't one for exercise.

He returned to the kitchen to find his path blocked by none other than the Captain. The man had stopped dead in his tracks right in the doorway. Pat tried to squeeze past without actually touching him but quickly realised that the Captain was taking up too much space. So Pat was forced to duck down a bit to get a good look at whatever was happening inside the room.

The football, at least, was in the same spot it had been in a few minutes ago. Phew. And Daley was still sitting at the table. Staring at the Captain.

The man seemed to have walked into the kitchen and stopped functioning immediately at the sight of the small human sipping apple juice. Pat could not see his face but his posture was ramrod-straight as usual.

The two contenders of this strange staring-contest seemed unwilling to break the tension, so Pat decided to speak up. "That's my son Daley, Captain."

The Captain jerked away from him and further into the kitchen where he came to another abrupt halt. That finally gave Pat enough space to enter the room. It's only then that he realised that the staring contest was still ongoing.

"Right." Pat saw that the other man was clutching an empty mug in his left hand. "Did you come in here for some tea? I'll put the kettle on." He belatedly realised that that might start another tea debate. He reached for the kettle anyway.

But the Captain failed to respond. His face seemed to be stuck in a weird expression between shock and confusion. Eyes wide but brow furrowed, lips pressed firmly together. The only part that indicated that the man still had at least some bodily functions left, were the fingers twitching around the handle of the mug.

Daley giggled.

Which made a weird whining sound come out of the Captain's throat.

"You're really funny," Daley commented.

That just seemed to alarm the Captain even more. Without breaking eye contact he placed his mug on the counter. "I-I'll just go."

And go he did. A blink-and-you'll-miss-it kind of thing.

"Okay?" Pat walked the kettle to the sink to fill it up. He definitely needed tea after all that.

"I like him," Daley declared. "Who is he?"

Pat turned the kettle on before sitting down in the chair next to his son. "That's the Captain. He is the gardener and groundskeeper around here."

"Wow, that's a cool name. Can I be his friend?"

It said a lot about Button House and its residents when the acquisition of a new football resulted in a celebratory football match with beer, soft drinks and so many snacks that dinner would become obsolete tonight. In short: Humphrey was pumped.

They all met up on the field near the vegetable garden after the manor had closed for the day. It was quite warm still and Humphrey began sweating just at the thought of running.

Mary and Thomas had won the draw to be team captains and were in the beginnings of an argument over who got to choose their teammates first.

"Get out of my way, you soppy bit of rag." Mary body-slammed Thomas to the side and the dispute was settled before it had really begun.

Humphrey ended up on Thomas's team, along with Daley.

They had debated about one of them sitting out and refereeing. But when it became clear that their only volunteer (Kitty) did not even understand the rule of not touching the ball with one's hands, it was decided they could definitely do without a referee and they assigned Kitty the role of goalie instead. Their communal goal was a set of conveniently placed bushes that they hoped would not be too badly damaged by the end of the game.

And then the madness began. Because there was no referee with a whistle, Humphrey didn't even know that the game had started until Thomas and Daley yelled at him to attack Robin. Which was his hobby anyway, so he did. It was great fun. He managed to get the ball and passed it on to Mary right away before realising that she was on the opposite team. Maybe they should have colour-coordinated their shirts or something.

Mary and Robin took shameless advantage of the fact that Daley was only five and would simply pick him up as they took the ball from him. The kid found it hilarious and screeched with delight every time it happened.

At one point, Pat almost killed himself when he tried to score a goal but only barely managed to brush the ball with his toes before falling over dramatically. The ball seemed to feel sorry for him and did its best to actually roll into Kitty's waiting hands. Robin and Mary high-fived Pat for his selfless efforts.

Pat must have heard Humphrey laugh at him because the next thing Humphrey knew when he received the ball, he got knocked off his feet by the little man. It did not take a lot to do that, to be fair. Humphrey was not well-coordinated.

"Sorry," Pat giggled as he helped Humphrey up and gave him a one-armed hug. "I got excited. You alright?"

Humphrey slung his arm around Pat's shoulders to show that there were no hard feelings to be had between them. "You almost broke my neck, mate. But I love to see people go all in. Do I get a penalty kick?"

"Sure, if you want." Pat righted his glasses, still smiling.

They turned to see that the others had not even noticed that Humphrey had almost gotten fouled to death and were merrily chasing the ball across the field again. The two man looked at each other and shrugged before rejoining their respective teams.

Thomas performed a really cool move where the ball bounced off his head and then his knee (it might even have been intentional) before he kicked the ball into the goal. They took a few minutes to debate whether the goal would count, considering that Kitty had wandered off to get a drink beforehand.

Instead of coming to a conclusion, they decided that they all, in fact, were ready for a drink. So they hurried over to the big plastic cooler someone had lugged outside to grab a beverage of their choice.

Daley, not nearly as out of breath as his poor dad seemed to be, sidled up to Humphrey.

"We need to be more aggressive on the tackles," he said seriously, slurping his Capri-Sun.

Before Humphrey could point out that some of them were over forty and in serious danger of breaking a hip, Daley raised his hand.

"Look. There's my friend!" Humphrey followed Daley's gaze to see who he was waving at in the distance. A figure in beige trousers and a white t-shirt could be seen walking between the beds of the vegetable garden.

The Captain had noticed Daley's waving and looked behind him to see who the boy was addressing. When he only saw empty fields, he turned back and simply stared.

"He looked at me." Daley sounded absolutely fucking star-struck.

"You met the Captain then?" Humphrey asked, amused, just as Pat sidled up to them, still out of breath. Humphrey hoped he wouldn't need mouth-to-mouth.

"He's really funny," Daley told him. Pat just shrugged at Humphrey's confused sideways glance.

"He sure is." Humphrey took a sip from his beer and ruffled Daley's hair.

Nobody made a move to return to their game (it really was quite hot out here). Instead they proceeded to properly settle down around the mountain of drinks and snacks. Humphrey grabbed a family-sized bag of salt-and-vinegar crisps that somebody had donated to the cause. Not just for himself obviously. He'd share of course. If anyone wanted any.

"Look what I found!" They all turned to watch Robin jump out from behind a bush. "Who need cool down?" He was holding up a portable garden sprinkler like fucking Simba. A yellow hose trailed behind him from sources unknown.

"Cool!" Daley had been sitting cross-legged on the grass and now struggled to disentangle himself, falling over in the process.

"Where'd you get that?" Pat was rightfully suspicious, Humphrey thought. Those sprinklers did not happen to just lie about to be 'found' and taken. Pat just about managed to grab Daley before the kid escaped his radius.

"Nicked it from rose garden. They not using it." Robin seemed decidedly unconcerned about the possible consequences of his theft and set the sprinkler down on the grass with a triumphant cheer. He disappeared behind the bush again to follow the hose back to its source, presumably to finish the set-up.

A glance around the group showed that only Daley and Kitty shared his unbridled enthusiasm. Everyone else appeared to have managed to think the two necessary steps ahead to be at least mildly distressed.

Humphrey's uncertain glance met Pat's. They shou-

"Hey! What the bally hell do you think you're doing?" The Captain had appeared from absolutely nowhere and stormed over to their little gathering. "That is vital maintenance equipment!" He bent down to pick up the sprinkler without pausing his angry tirade. "You can't just remove it from its position. I will not tolerate this-"

Water hit him right in the face. Robin, having successfully located a tab and attached the hose, had turned up the water flow. The sprinkler sputtered to life properly and the Captain instinctively closed his eyes.

He spluttered and coughed.

Nothing happened for a while. Only more water drenching the Captain's face and clothes.

Nobody dared to move.

Or speak.

Or laugh.

Internally they were all shitting themselves. Probably. Humphrey was, at least.

Because the Captain had opened his eyes and he had never looked this murderous. And he looked quite murderous most of the time.

He stared at them, blinking through the onslaught of water as the sprinkler continued to soak him through.

Humphrey hoped the Captain would at least spare the children and elderly. And he was willing to put himself in the latter category if it meant he came out of this alive.

The only sound was the whirring from the sprinkler and the water hitting the Captain and a bit of the grass around him.

And then the Captain did the one thing Humphrey least expected.

He dropped the sprinkler. Then he turned on his heel and stormed away. Without uttering a single threat to their lives or sensitive body parts. He disappeared around the corner of the house seconds later. Luckily, in the opposite direction of where Humphrey knew his shed with all his tools was located.

Another few seconds passed before anyone dared to speak.

"Will we still have our jobs tomorrow?" Thomas asked. He sounded petrified.

Humphrey thought of the shotgun he had seen the Captain wield a few weeks back.

"I doubt we'll still have our lives tomorrow."

Chapter Text

They all still had their lives the next morning. And the day after.

Oh. And they still had their jobs too.

Humphrey had mentally prepared himself for an hour-long reprimand about sprinkler-gate during the staff meeting the following Wednesday, maybe accompanied by a sigh of disapproval from Lady B. But the Captain was nowhere in sight when Humphrey made himself comfortable on one of the sofas to wait for the meeting to commence. And he remained noticeably absent when Lady B started talking them through the upcoming Open-House event that would be taking place next weekend.

A movement near the doorway out to the hall with the grand staircase made Humphrey lean forward a bit. He could see someone dressed in khaki and beige hovering just outside the room. The figure's face remained outside of Humphrey's field of vision though.

Maybe the Captain was waiting to make a dramatic entrance.

But by the end of the meeting, he still had not made a full appearance and when Humphrey checked the doorway again, the Captain was gone.

And he remained absent for the next few days. Even more than usual. And it was not just Humphrey who had noticed.

"Has anybody actually seen him?" Pat asked tentatively when the subject of the Captain's absence was finally brought up one night. Most of the house's tenants, minus Lady B and the man in question, were squished onto the old couch in the telly room. Thomas and Pat had lost the rock-paper-scissors contest and were forced to sit in two rickety dining chairs Robin had produced from somewhere.

A rerun of 'Friends' was playing in the background but the promise of gossip had everyone's attention honed in on the conversation at hand. However, none of them seemed to have any useful information to share.

"He still be leaving vegetables in the kitchen," Mary announced, sounding mighty pleased. "Many carrots today." That explained it. That woman loved her carrots. Maybe she would bake another carrot cake for them if they asked nicely. It was Humphrey's favourite creation of hers. "But I's not seen him," she added absently.

"I was surprised he did not use his usual time slot during the staff meeting to air his grievances. It would have been the perfect opportunity to shout at us." Thomas sounded almost disappointed. As if he had actually wanted the Captain to yell at them. Well, he did live for the drama.

"Me call him on talkie-walkie because he late. Like he do all the time," Robin grumbled, crossing his arms with a huff. "He no answer. Rude."

"That smelly old walrus always kicks up a fuss when it's one of us who dares to be late." Thomas threw up his hands dramatically.

"Yeah, it was weird for him to skip the meeting." Humphrey frowned. "He's never missed one before. He's the one who insisted that we have these meetings in the first place. Debriefs he called them. Even Lady Button didn't really see the point in them. Especially when there were only four of us." He wondered if he was the only one who had seen the Captain on Wednesday, hiding out in the hallway.

"I talked to the Captain yesterday."

All eyes turned to Kitty. Pat almost fell out of his chair because he had leaned forward too far and too fast. He saw Humphrey stare at him and grinned sheepishly. Eager to hear the gossip, was he?

Kitty giggled shyly when she realised that all the attention was suddenly on her. "He gave me some strawberries."

"Did he?" Thomas sounded like he had never heard anything so outrageous. To be fair to him, it did sound a bit mad.

"Yes." Kitty folded her hands in her lap. "I was crying and he tried to cheer me up."

"Why were you crying, Kitty?" Pat leaned forward in his chair again to look at her with concern.

"Oh, I was talking to Florence."

Who the hell was Florence? They all looked at each other and shrugged.

"Well," Kitty went on, "the statue that looks like Florence anyway. She was my friend in school. But she moved away when we were twelve. One of the statues in the garden looks just like her. The one near the rose garden. I talk to her sometimes." There were actual tears forming in Kitty's eyes. "And yesterday I became really sad because I miss Florence so much." She took a shaky breath before cheering up. "And then the Captain gave me his basket of strawberries."

Judging by the facial expressions around him, they all had as hard a time picturing the scene as Humphrey did.

"Did he say anything?" Even Pat, who had not lived at Button House for long, seemed to sense that Kitty's perception of things could not always be relied upon.

"He said that he misses his friend, too. And then he gave me a strawberry because he said that sweet things always make him feel better."

Humphrey exchanged a confused glance with Pat. None of it made any sense. The only thing he was sure of was that at least one of the two people in Kitty's story had definitely smoked something.

"We sure it happen like dat?" Robin finally spoke up. His eyes had narrowed to suspicious slits and he still had his thick arms folded across his chest.

Kitty turned to him. "Of course that's what happened. Why would I lie?"

"Captain in story nice. Real Captain not nice. He sicky in head. Not normal." Robin felt even more strongly about the bloke than Humphrey did. There had already been history created between the two of them by the time Humphrey had moved into Button House. Poor Robin had a lot more contact points with the Captain, since they were both responsible for the maintenance of this place. Humphrey counted himself lucky that he often did not see the prat for days on end.

"Yes, he be bewitched by the devil," Mary readily agreed. But most people were bewitched by the devil in her opinion.

"Do you wanna tell us more about Florence, Kitty?" Pat pulled on his glasses as he leaned forward yet again. "She sounds nice." It was a weak attempt at distraction, Humphrey thought. But since this was Kitty, it might actually work.

"Oh, she was." Kitty's smile was the most genuine thing. "She shared her lunch with me whenever my sister accidentally packed my lunch money in her bag. And she was very good at hide-and-seek. Not like my sister. Eleanor always took ages to find me. But Florence always found me very quickly. We were the best of friends."

"Sounds like it, yeah." Pat's smile was strained. Maybe he had already picked up on Kitty's odd comments relating to her sister. Or he was worried that the topic would return to the Captain.

Humphrey decided to help him out. "Sophie reacted to my WhatsApp status the other day."

The others oohed. Then Pat, who had definitely joined in on the oohing, leaned over to Thomas to stage-whisper, "Who's Sophie?"

"Oh, she's my ex-wife," Humphrey told him cheerfully. It's fine. He was fine. Definitely fine with having an ex-wife. Sometimes he wasn't but on most days he was. Just fine.

"Oh." Humphrey could hear all of Pat's sympathy in that one syllable. "Didn't know you were married, mate."

"Yeah. Long time ago now."

"Back in Tudor times," Robin grumbled and Mary snickered. The elbow to Robin's ribs was justified in Humphrey's opinion. He wasn't that old.

"Right." Pat's smile remained strained. "But you're still in touch?"

"Yeah." Humphrey shrugged. "Nothing big. She always sends a Christmas card. Likes my Facebook posts. The odd funny meme. She thought the pizza that I posted in my status on Tuesday looked like her divorce lawyer. Absolutely true by the way."

At the request of the others, Humphrey then spent a good long while googling Sophie's lawyer and comparing his photo to the pizza. Spitting image. The others agreed.

"Does it ..." Pat trailed off and pulled on his shorts nervously. It was only him and Humphrey left in the telly room. Everyone else had straggled off to bed already. But Pat had caught Humphrey's eye as the others had filed out of the room after one too many episodes of 'Friends'. Honestly, Humphrey wasn't sure what everyone saw in that show.

"Does it get easier?" And did Pat not look just absolutely heartbroken just then? With his big wet eyes behind big glasses and his ridiculous moustache and his little beige shorts that had become illegal after the eighties?

"Yeah, it does," Humphrey said quietly because he felt like that was what Pat wanted to hear. But it didn't, did it? True, he did not spent every second of every day thinking about his failed marriage anymore. But the betrayal was still raw. They had made a promise to each other. In sickness and in health, all that stuff. And yet, Sophie had run when Humphrey had been at his lowest. When he had needed her most.

Pat looked down dejectedly. Whoops, maybe Humphrey had not sounded as convincing as he had thought.

"Can't imagine having a kid mixed in with all of that." Humphrey didn't mean to pry but maybe talking about it would help the poor fellow.

"Yeah." Pat got up from the chair he had been sitting in all evening and shuffled over to join Humphrey on the lumpy couch. This was turning into a proper therapy session very quickly. But Humphrey was all for talking about one's feelings. So he didn't mind.

"Custody talks are horrible, yannow?" Pat rubbed his eyes, pushing his glasses up to his forehead for a second. "You feel like, by handing over most of the custody to the ex, you're admitting that you're giving up on your kid."

"Yeah, must be hard, not seeing him every day." Humphrey stretched out his legs to have something to do.

"I miss him so much," Pat said, very quietly. His eyes were getting shinier by the second.

"I didn't know you were having such a hard time," Humphrey told him. Pat was always so cheerful. There was barely a time when he wasn't smiling.

Pat shrugged and pulled off his glasses. "Just try not to." He sniffed. "Not really my kinda thing. Being mopey and sad."

"It is okay to be sad though." Humphrey shuffled a little closer and put his arm on the back of the couch where Pat was sitting.

Pat nodded vigorously, staring down at his lap. "I know."

Humphrey could definitely see the tears pooling in the other man's eyes now. "It's okay to cry too." He added a soft shoulder pat for good measure.

And that seemed to be the gesture that made the dam finally break.

Pat bent over and heavy sobs erupted from deep within his chest. It sounded like they had been trapped in there for a while. Heart-wrenching. Violent.

Humphrey scooted even closer and wrapped his arm around Pat's shoulders. He was relieved when the other man didn't pull away. Instead, Pat fell into his side. And Humphrey was more than willing to take the weight.

They remained like that for a long time.

"Sorry." Pat pushed himself up, still sniffling. "Sorry. It just came out."

"No worries, mate." Humphrey patted his shoulder again. "Seems like you've been holding back for while."

Pat shrugged. "Yeah." He rubbed his wet eyes with the sleeve of his jumper.

Humphrey let him have a moment of privacy and turned to stare at the blank tv instead.

It took a few minutes for Pat to speak. His voice was deep and hoarse."Caught Carol in bed with my best mate, yannow?"

Humphrey turned with a start to look at him. He had no idea what to say. So he said, "Dick move." Pat was probably aware that it was a dick move but Humphrey wasn't a therapist, okay? What was he supposed to say to that?

Pat smiled a very sad smile. "Apparently they had been doing it for years."

Wow. Humphrey definitely wasn't trained for this. Maybe they could talk about Elizabethan England instead? That's what he was good at. Humphrey was surprised that Pat managed to put on this cheerful front all the time. Losing both your wife and your best friend like that. Brutal.

"It'd probably be easier if I didn't have to see them all the time." Pat stroked his hand over the worn fabric of the couch.

"Yeah." Kids really did make a divorce so much harder.

"But Daley's worth it." Pat's smile had turned a lot more cheerful all of a sudden. "Just wanna make sure he's happy, yannow?"

"Sure." Humphrey's respect had increased tenfold in the span of ten seconds. "You're a great dad, Pat."

"Yeah." Pat pushed his glasses up his nose."That's why I always try to keep it together, yannow? For Daley."

Humphrey took a moment to phrase his point. "Daley isn't here all the time."

Pat winced at the reminder. Damn.

"I mean ..." Humphrey took a deep breath. "I get that you don't want to show your true feelings in front of your son. But you don't have to spare any of us. If you're feeling sad, you can let us know. Or tell us to fuck off so you can have a good cry. You don't have to pretend."

"Thank you," Pat whispered, then scrunched up his nose. "Don't really wanna put up a cry festival for everyone though."

"Kitty might join in actually."

"Exactly."

They both snorted.

Pat let out a shaky breath before laboriously peeling himself off the sofa. Humphrey followed suit.

"Thanks again, mate." Pat still looked a little weepy as he made his way to the door.

"Do you-" Humphrey cut himself off but Pat had already turned around to face him again. So he raised his arms. "Do you need a hug? A proper one I mean?"

Pat smiled. "Yeah, I'd like that actually."

Humphrey quickly walked over to him and enveloped him in his arms. Pat's head came to rest on his shoulder, his arms around his waist.

"What manly men we are," Pat mumbled, giggling.

"Even big strong men need a hug sometimes."

Pat initiated the end of the hug by gently extracting himself. "How are you so wise?"

"Well, according to Robin, I am about 500 years old, so ..." Humphrey shrugged and grinned. Then he looked Pat right in the eyes and said, "If you ever need to talk to someone or need a hug or anything, I'm here for you, okay?"

Pat's eyes grew teary again and he lifted up his hand to rub them. "Thank you, Humphrey."

Humphrey expected him to leave then but Pat stayed right where he was.

"What if ..." Pat swallowed. "What if I needed another hug right now?"

"Yeah, I think I got another one in me."

The Captain remained notably absent for the rest of the week and well into the next.

Now and then, the lawnmower could be heard in the distance and some of the others saw him drive by on his quad bike a few times. Piles of vegetables continued to mysteriously appear in Mary's kitchen. Humphrey actually passed the Captain in a hallway one late evening and the man looked like he would like the Earth to swallow him right then and there. The next staff meeting he attended from a window seat far in the back of the room. He did not get up to complain about cigarette butts in the fountain.

The Captain did re-establish himself as the resident drill sergeant during the final preparations for the Open-House event that would be taking place the next day.

He was already animatedly waving a piece of paper in Lady Button's face by the time Humphrey, Robin and Kitty trickled into the garden to help set up the marquee this morning. Dante weaved over to sniffle at their shoes in greeting. Kitty immediately dropped to her knees to give him a proper stroke behind the ears.

"This really is beyond the pale." The Captain was clearly trying not to shout but only partially succeeding. "Why was I not informed about this?"

Humphrey approached the pair. Not because he wanted to participate in whatever debate was taking place but because the Captain appeared particularly agitated this morning. He simply wanted to put himself in a position to intervene if necessary.

However, Lady B seemed to have no trouble standing her ground against the shouty man. "I knew you would get all worked up about it, so I did not consult with you. I am allowed and capable of making decisions on my own, you know."

The pointed look Lady B gave him, made the Captain falter. "I know that." He lowered his head and squinted at the paper he was holding. Then he rubbed his forehead absently. "Where are you planning on putting it? Might damage the grass," he mumbled.

"Not on the front lawn, of course. Right over there." Lady B pointed to a grassy area a few metres away. "Near the marquee."

"We'll get started on that first." The Captain grumbled something else into his moustache before he stomped over to his quad bike. He departed with an exaggerated roar of the engine.

Lady B watched him leave with one of her signature pouts. Humphrey reported himself, Robin and Kitty for duty once the quad bike was far enough away that he could be heard. Pat and Thomas were stuck inside on tours and rounds. And Mary was baking away in the kitchen. Not baking herself. Baking cakes and pastries.

Lady B gave them a brief rundown of today's tasks that she read off of a list in her hand. Then they watched Dante and Robin unsuccessfully chase a butterfly across the lawn as they waited for the Captain to return with the marquee.

"Are you nervous about tomorrow?" Humphrey asked as he stood next to Lady B. She did not appear nervous or particularly bothered by the upcoming event. Humphrey just wanted something to do, alright?

"Not at all," Lady B said predictably. "I have been planning this day for months. It is a wonderful opportunity to show the community what we have achieved so far."

"It sure is. Can't wait. Some of our cousins promised to stop by."

Lady B looked alarmed. To her credit, she quickly tried to cover her expression with her usual scowl.

Humphrey snorted. "Don't worry, Robin's the black sheep of the family." He pretended not to register Lady B's sigh of relief.

The Captain rumbled back into view on his quad bike, pulling a trailer loaded with a bunch of metal tubes behind him.

"Right." He stepped off his vehicle and assumed a militaristic stance to address them. As though they were his little soldiers. "The marquee goes here." The Captain pointed out the approximated perimeters. Then he pulled out a paper booklet from somewhere and took a moment to review it from very up close. Maybe Humphrey wasn't the only who was in denial about needing glasses.

"There's A poles, B poles, C and D," the Captain read out, vaguely pointing towards the metal beams on his trailer.

"Okay?" Humphrey considered the pole he had randomly pulled from the pile. "Which ones are which? And where do they go?"

Instead of answering like a normal person, the Captain glowered at him. Angry eyebrows and even angrier moustache freely on display. "Have I told you to touch anything yet?"

Humphrey immediately dropped the tube to the ground and took a step back. What a twat.

The Captain kept glaring at him as he instructed them to lay out the poles in four different categories. Humphrey, Robin and Kitty tried to follow his directions as closely as possible, if only to not invoke another outburst, but his orders were not what one would call straightforward, so it all got a bit confusing. Lady B kept a safe distance to simply watch the proceedings. Not a very hands-on kind of lady, was she?

Humphrey bent down to place the two beams he was holding next to some poles that were very similar looking. He was almost certain that was what they were supposed to be doing.

"No, no, no." The Captain stomped over to rip the tubes from Humphrey's hands. "There can't be more than fifteen poles in this group. This is Group B. They must belong to another group."

"They are all exactly the same, mate." Humphrey glared back at him.

"What?" The Captain glanced around him uncertainly. "That can't be. The manual states that there are four different categories. A, B, C and D."

"But they are all the same."

"Yes, you've said that. But that can't be right." The Captain marched away and consulted the manual again.

Humphrey followed him with deliberately heavy footsteps. Not that that really made a difference on the grassy ground. But the Captain was a bit jumpy sometimes, especially when agitated. And Humphrey did not fancy a punch in the face this early in the day.

The Captain shied away a little when he approached. Humphrey still managed to get a good view of the manual. The paper crinkled in the Captain's knuckle-tight grip. They spent a few silent seconds studying the instructions. If Humphrey squinted just a bit, he could make out the illustrations and writing just fine. See? He did not need glasses.

"Oh, I see," Humphrey said eventually.

The Captain stepped back to glare at him. "You see, do you?"

"Better than you apparently," Humphrey bit back before waving for the Captain to come closer again.

The Captain's moustache twitched but the man reluctantly held up the booklet.

"The poles are all the same. But depending on what position they are in, they will have a different name. These ones," Humphrey ran his finger along the illustration, "are the B poles. They make up the length of the marquee. The A poles connect them to each other, to create the roof. The C poles are the feet that hold the whole thing up. And then the D poles will be sitting on the ground."

The Captain did not say anything for a long moment, so Humphrey turned to look at him. Just in time to see him swallow thickly and squeeze his eyes shut. "Fine," he ground out eventually, aggressively stuffing the paper into his pocket as he walked back to the others.

Robin and Kitty had done their best to sort the poles into different piles in their absence. The Captain considered their work for a second before he squared his shoulders.

"We are now moving onto the construction phase," he announced. Finally. It felt like they had been here for hours already. Humphrey considered the grey sky above them. Hopefully, the rain would hold off for a little longer.

As the Captain stammered his way through an explanation about the next steps, Humphrey picked up some poles and dropped them in their approximate position. Now that he had seen the illustrations, it seemed like a fairly straightforward job. He ignored the glare the Captain was definitely sending his way.

Robin wandered over with more poles in his arms. "Here?"

Humphrey and his brother distributed the poles on the grass and the Captain left them to it for a bit. Kitty received his whole attention instead. However, she seemed to right out ignore everything the Captain shouted in her direction. When Humphrey glanced over to her, he realised that she was ... speaking to a statue? The Captain appeared to realise the futility of his instructions and stamped off to do something behind a bush for a while.

The statue, when Humphrey asked as he placed a pole suspiciously close to its base, turned out to be none other than Kitty's friend Florence. Her likeness anyway. Humphrey considered the statue for a second. He thought Florence had been a childhood friend of Kitty's. This statue was clearly that of a woman. When he brought it up to Kitty, she told him, this is what she imagined Florence to look like now. Humphrey scrutinised the statue a little closer. Her facial features had been worn down by the elements and even making out a nose was quite difficult. Could have been anyone really. Anyone with prominent breasts at least.

"No, stop. Stop." The Captain made an unwelcome appearance next to them and gesticulated widely. "This pole does not go here. It can't. The statue's in the way. Do you not see?"

"Oh." Kitty's response made it obvious that she neither saw nor cared.

The Captain grumbled and picked up the offending pole. He continued to stomp around the area and hiss instructions at them. It was clear that he was becoming more and more agitated. Especially as it became clear that one side of the marquee was very much encroaching on the well-manicured hedge and one corner would go directly through Florence.

"It won't fit," was the Captain's astounding deduction. He studied the manual and then the poles lying on the grass and halfway in the hedge. "Fa- ... Lady Button, what size did you say the marquee was?"

There was a bit of a squabble because Lady B refused to hand over the delivery notice, so the Captain was forced to stand very closely behind her and squint along over her shoulder. Their gazes wandered along the poles in a weirdly synchronised way before they both simultaneously concluded that "They delivered the wrong marquee."

"They weird," Robin whispered in Humphrey's ear.

Humphrey agreed with a hum and watched Lady B wander off after a short whispered exchange.

The rest of them, including the Captain just stared at their worksite for a bit. Dante lifted a leg to pee against a bush. He was probably the only one who could get away with behaviour like that in the Captain's presence. But he was a dog, so that was fair.

"Maybe we move it?" Robin pointed at Florence.

"Move the statue?" Humphrey considered the object in question. "It's probably really heavy." He was not a fan of weight lifting. There was a reason he had never gone beyond a trial membership at the gym, despite his physiotherapist's advice for some light workout.

"It is." The Captain appeared next to them. He bounced up on his toes once. "It also has a steel rebar inside. Which is buried about 60cm in the ground."

"Why?" Humphrey turned to look at him. He had never really thought about statues before.

"Because people are stupid and will get themselves killed." The Captain glowered at him as he folded his hands behind his back.

"You're going to kill Florence?" Kitty shrieked. She burst into tears right on the spot.

"What? No." The Captain backed away from her, his hands now held in front of him as if he was placating a wild animal. Like Owen Grady in Jurassic World.

Robin followed him, pointing an angry finger at him. "You make Kitty cry."

The Captain's eyes widened. "It's not my fault she wasn't listening properly."

"I no like your tone."

"Well. I don't appreciate yours, either."

"You want some?" Robin raised his fists. The Captain took another step backwards.

"Whoa." Humphrey tried to get between them. "Okay. Let's-"

"What on earth is going on?" Lady B had returned from wherever she had gone. Her fierce gaze cut back and forth between Robin and the Captain. "Absolute apes. Both of you."

"He started it." The Captain sounded like a small child.

"I do not appreciate that tone, young man," Lady Button scolded him.

That shut the Captain up real quick. Robin hid his hands behind his back. Very wise.

"Now. If we can all behave like adults for a moment," Lady B pointedly looked at everyone in turn, "the company is of course willing to exchange the marquee. However, it would not arrive until late this afternoon. I told them we would keep this one. At no additional cost, of course." Humphrey could definitely believe that she simply told them that. No negotiation attempts accepted. "Captain, is there a way we can make the marquee fit?"

Kitty gasped, hands to her mouth. "Please don't kill Florence."

"Florence will be just fine, Katherine," the Captain said, almost gently. His calculating gaze roamed over the surrounding area while everyone quietly waited for his verdict. Did they all have that much trust in his spatial awareness or did they simply not fancy another tantrum?

"We cannot move Florence without major excavation efforts," the Captain cleared his throat, "but if we move the marquee a few metres that way," he waved his hand towards a spot further down the garden, "and turn it by about seventy degrees, it should fit between those bushes." He frowned. "I'll take some measurements to make sure." He picked up some of the poles and gathered them in his arms.

Lady B nodded. "And the bouncy castle?"

The bouncy castle? There was going to be a bouncy castle?

Bouncy Castle. That was not a word Humphrey had ever thought would come out of Lady Button's mouth. A bouncy castle. Here at Button House? This was going to be so epic.

The Captain was the only one not visibly excited at the prospect of fun. He seemed to have swallowed a lemon instead as he stood there with the marquee poles in his arms. "Wherever you want," he ground out. "It's your lawn."

Oh. Is that what they had been fighting about earlier?

"Right," Lady B replied snootily. "Just what I thought."

The Captain took off with his poles to take a moment to sulk.

"A bouncy castle." Kitty sounded ecstatic. She wriggled with delight. "I've never been on a bouncy castle. They always look so much fun."

Humphrey exchanged a look with Robin.

"For the children," Lady B clarified and Humphrey felt himself deflate. Of course it was for the children visiting Button House tomorrow. But he would have liked to have a go. Robin and Kitty looked equally disappointed.

The Captain returned and declared the new location for the marquee to be of acceptable size. He ordered everyone to gather the remaining poles and follow him. Robin tripped over a tube or his shoe laces or air and tumbled right into Florence. Who did not even wobble.

"You see what I mean?" The Captain asked, clearly annoyed.

Humphrey rolled his eyes.

The marquee was finally taking shape. The Captain had driven off on his quad bike to retrieve the canopy which they now spread out on the lawn. There was a lot of fabric and Kitty received a stern talking-to for getting a bit tangled. In fact, the Captain spent most of his time berating everyone else instead of actually lending a hand.

When he called Robin an idiot under his breath for mistaking one side of the tarp for another, Humphrey dropped everything he was holding and stormed over to put himself between the Captain and his little brother. "Back the fuck off. Right now."

The Captain blinked and then actually did back off.

"Now, are you going to actually help?" Humphrey asked. "Or are you going to keep being a twat? It looks to me like you just want to order people around. Maybe because you don't know how to actually do it yourself? Hm?"

The Captain's stormy expression became a hurricane. "How. Dare. You." He squared his shoulders. His hands twitched. If Humphrey had to defend his brother's honour with a fist fight, then so be it.

"Unbelievable." Lady B had suddenly appeared between them. She turned to the Captain. "Go get the tables."

She tried to wrestle the manual for the marquee from him but the Captain refused to let go of it. He continued to glare right into Humphrey's soul.

"Captain!" Lady B's outburst finally made him look at her. She straightened her spine, Humphrey thought he saw a little wince go through her, and returned the Captain's fiery glare. "Get the tables and the benches."

The Captain frowned. "All by myself?"

"Yes. All by yourself." Lady B finally managed to rip the manual from his slackened grip. "If you keep picking fights, you'll be working by yourself from now on."

The Captain continued to frown. "The tables are quite heavy."

"I'm sure you'll manage." Lady B turned and walked away from him.

Humphrey just about resisted the urge to stick his tongue out to the other man. The way the Captain stood there like a little boy after being scolded by a strict teacher had absolutely nothing to do with it.

The marquee was completely set up not long after the Captain had gotten on his quad bike and driven away. Humphrey and Kitty stepped back to admire their handiwork. Robin shook one of the vertical poles to check its stability.

"Very good," he concluded when the thing did not immediately come crashing down on him.

Lady B told them to have a short break before she returned to the house to get some more work done inside. Boring house-owning stuff probably. It had started to drizzle a bit, so they moved to make use of the marquee. Kitty volunteered to run inside and get some drinks for everyone.

Robin sidled up next to Humphrey and they watched the light sprinkle turn into proper rain. Hopefully, the weather would improve before tomorrow. It would be a shame if the kids missed out on the bouncy castle.

"You go easy on Captain, okay?" Robin said.

Humphrey turned to look at him. "I'm not gonna let him call you an idiot." Only he was allowed to call his brother that.

Robin just shrugged.

Humphrey looked over his shoulder to make sure that they were definitely alone. "You said yourself that he is sick in the head."

"He is. But he lonely too."

"So he picks fights with everyone?"

"Is human int'action, isn' it?

"He could just come to Pizza Night instead. Or just, you know, be nice once in a while?"

"Sicky in head, like me said. Smelly ol' walrus."

"Why do you antagonise him then? With the smoking and the fountain?" And it really had been Robin who had raised his fists first when Kitty had started crying earlier.

"Eeh." Robin shrugged again. "Somefin' to do."

The Captain had disappeared for quite a while but he now came back into view, still scowling, with some foldable benches and a table strapped to his trailer. Humphrey immediately had a flashback to his trip to Germany. Their beer gardens had all been equipped with exactly the same type of benches. One had to be careful with these. They had a bit of a see-saw effect. If one party stood up at one end, the person on the other far end often got catapulted off as well. Great fun. Maybe he could get Robin to sit down on one of these. Or Thomas.

Humphrey stepped closer to the trailer to help unload but the Captain's furious expression made him falter for a second. So he watched the other man pull the benches off the trailer and dump them on the grass by himself. He did not want to risk getting hit in the head with one of them when the Captain finally lost it.

Only when it became apparent that the Captain struggled to unload the big foldable wooden table by himself without dumping it on his foot and breaking all of his toes did Humphrey step in to assist. He grabbed one side of the table and when the Captain looked up to see why the weight had suddenly lifted, Humphrey nodded at him. They managed to place the table onto the grass without injury to themselves or damage to the furniture.

"Thank you," the Captain mumbled to a random patch of grass.

"No problem," Humphrey said. "How many more of these tables are there?" How had the Captain even managed to get it onto the trailer in the first place?

"Five."

"I go wif you?" Robin pointed at the quad bike, then glanced at Humphrey. "Get tables."

"What?" The Captain jerked back as if he had been struck. "That's not necessary."

"I go wif you."

After a short staring contest, the Captain relented with a reluctant "Fine". Robin grunted in triumph and hopped onto the trailer. They drove off into the sunset together.

Well, not really. It was only noon and it was raining. And it probably wasn't a happy-ever-after situation. The Captain was too stubborn and generally twat-y for a quick redemption arc.

Humphrey got started on the set-up of the benches.

"Need some help?"

Humphrey startled when a voice spoke up behind him. Ouch. He hissed and pulled his finger back in shock.

"Oh, sorry, you alright?" Pat was suddenly in front him, reaching for his damaged hand. Humphrey let him inspect his poor digit. His fingernail was already turning blue. It had gotten pinched in the mechanism that held up the bench legs.

"Didn't mean to startle ya," Pat said. "I'll get you an icepack for that. Do you want a plaster?"

Humphrey inspected his finger. "Nah, there's no actual bleeding." Not on the outside at least. His fingernail would be blue for months.

"Might make it hurt less though," Pat said thoughtfully, then he grinned. "I got dinosaur ones."

"You're such a dad."

"That's a yes on the dinosaurs? I'll be right back." Even Pat's little run was very dad-like.

Robin and the Captain returned with more benches and tables. Humphrey helped them unload with one hand. His finger really hurt. Pat would probably kiss it better if Humphrey asked. Or cried.

"Here ya go." Pat appeared beside him again as he, very carefully, assembled another bench.

Pat handed over a towel-wrapped icepack and held up a plaster.

"What's going on?" The Captain stared at the plaster with wide eyes. He wasn't actually concerned, was he? "Did you get hurt?"

Humphrey held up his hand. "Pinched my finger a bit."

Wow, the Captain did not just take a step back, did he? Prick. Or maybe he wasn't a fan of gory injuries. Humphrey was adult enough to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Pat attached the plaster to his damaged digit and then told him to sit down. "Kitty's bringing drinks and snacks."

Oh yeah, she had been gone for ages but now she returned, Mary and Thomas in tow. They were all carrying a tray. Quickly they had a little feast set up on one of the tables. There was cheese and grapes, crisps and someone, probably Kitty, had even taken the time to make sandwiches. There was juice and fizzy drinks as well.

Pat handed Humphrey a plate with a cheese-and-ham-sandwich, crisps and some alibi grapes.

"Thanks, mate."

They sat in companionable silence as the others buzzed around them. Humphrey noticed how the Captain awkwardly hovered near the exit of the marquee, watching the proceedings with pinched eyebrows.

"You comin' to get some food, mate?" Pat called over to him.

It seemed like it took the Captain a second to realise that he had been addressed and his gaze flickered over to the two of them. "Oh. Um." He bounced on his toes. "Sorry, I'll leave." He turned on his heel and walked out into the rain.

"What?" Pat's crisp had stopped halfway to his mouth. "That's not- oi, come back."

Pat quickly placed his plate on the bench and ran after him. But only a few seconds after he had disappeared outside, Humphrey could hear the quad bike roar to life and then get quieter with every second.

"He's a fast bugger when he wants to be." Pat sat back down, plate on his lap again, out of breath from the two second sprint. "You wouldn't think so with those knees."

"Hm." Humphrey took a moment to chew his sandwich. "He goes for a run every morning."

"Does he?" Pat raised his eyebrows.

"Well, maybe not every morning." Humphrey picked up a crisp, holding his plaster covered finger up daintily. "I've seen him a couple times. Sprints around like a mad person. Maybe that's why his knees are fucked in the first place."

"I hate runnin'," Pat said, picking up his sandwich. "Never saw the appeal."

"Yeah, me neither." Fuck it. Humphrey grabbed a handful of crisps and shoved them into his mouth all at once.

The Open Day started out well enough. The weather was sunny and pleasantly warm. Pat enjoyed leading their guests on free tours around the house. He could hear children squeal out their delight on the bouncy castle. He would have loved to invite Daley to the festivities. But that would have meant Carol. And probably Maurice. Pat did not want to see them. At all.

Meeting Humphrey and Robin's cousins was a particular highlight of the day. They both had hair as wild as Robin's and it almost gave Lady Button a heart attack when she saw them. One of them worked as an astrophysicist which was very cool. The other was the headmaster of a secondary school. Which, you know, not as cool but normal enough ...

The day was already winding down (and Humphrey had informed him that they would get to enjoy some of Mary's leftover cakes later) when things went a bit downhill.

Pat, Thomas, Humphrey and Robin were assembled in the drawing room after they had managed to execute a well-planned scheme to get even the most persistent of guests to leave and go home. They had just agreed to help Kitty and Mary in the café when, to their surprise, a bloke with a smarmy grin and an ugly yellow-and-green-chequered suit jacket entered the room from the library. Lady Button, looking even more tight-lipped than usual, followed right behind him.

Beside Pat, Humphrey groaned. "Oh, I remember this berk. Loves the sound of his own voice."

The man, instead of heading towards the front door, as Lady Button had clearly intended, made a beeline for their little group.

"Ah, Patrick," Lady Button called, coming to a stop further away. "Do you happen to know where the Captain is?"

Pat blinked in surprise at being asked about the Captain's whereabouts. He had barely seen the man today.

"Saw him in the marquee a couple of minutes ago, Lady Button," Humphrey supplied helpfully. Lady Button thanked him before she left the room in a hurry.

"Ah, hello fellows," the bloke in the extroverted jacket greeted them. "Barclay. Beg-Chetwynde."

"What's that?" Pat stared at the man in confusion.

"That's me." The stranger pointed at himself in an exaggerated way. "Barclay Beg-Chetwynde. From next door."

Robin tilted his head to the side. "We have next door?"

Barclay, without even glancing in Robin's direction, said, "Yes, about a mile that way." He pointed behind himself in what looked like a very random fashion. "I own the ... well, you know the village."

Pat and the others nodded. Not that they ever really saw more than the local Sainsbury's but they all knew that, in theory, the village was a place they could go and visit.

"I own that," Barclay said.

How did one own a village? Pat really had no idea how the posh world worked.

"Just had a lovely chat with Lady Button. The wife and I holiday in Tuscany every spring, you see? Good to catch up with the neighbours after you were gone for a few months."

Barclay prattled on and on about his holiday home in Italy. Pat glanced at the others to see what they thought of the bloke. Not much if Thomas' expression was anything to go by.

"It's good to have the bitches back, though."

Pat startled out of his thoughts. "You what?"

"The dogs," Barclay clarified. "I have six. All of them bitches." There was a wild bark outside. "Ah, that's one of them." Barclay smiled. "Women, ey? Always talking."

Pat had yet to decide what facial expression to put on. The others stared wide-eyed. The dog outside kept barking.

"Must have seen a ghost." Barclay chuckled. Then raised his eyebrows when none of them responded and shrugged at each other instead. "Ah. Didn't you know? This place is absolutely riddled with them. So legend has it, there's a lady. Falls from a window in the West Wing. And a strange creature that roams the grounds. Half man, half ape."

Humphrey coughed "Robin" into his hand. His brother had him in a headlock about a second later. They scuffled for a second before Robin let go. Humphrey righted himself with a shake of his head. His dark brown curls were sticking up a bit more than they had before.

"Well, anyway." Barclay's unnerving smile turned even wider. "The wife and I wanted to see what old Lady Button has done to the place. I was sceptical at first. You can't trust women, can you?"

Wow. Pat glanced at the others. They had all adopted a stony-faced expression that Pat was sure looked similar to his own.

"She seems to have done an okay job so far. Not sure about her little project of inviting the lower classes into her house." Pat needed a second to interpret the look of disdain Barclay was giving them. He felt his hands clench into fists. "Bit of charity, ey? A little tax benefit?"

Pat stepped forward, fully prepared to have his fist land in the other man's face. But someone pulled him back. He looked down to see that Humphrey had a good grip on his arm.

"Of course, this pretended harmony won't last long, will it?" Barclay was still talking and Pat felt himself begin to vibrate with rage. Humphrey's grip tightened. "Sooner or later, the woman will realise that inviting vagabonds, or worse, wildlings," he glanced at Robin, "into one's home is only asking for trouble. Theft at the very least. Might even burn the house down or-"

Pat saw red and lurched forward. And then he white. Because a tall wall in a white dress shirt had stepped between him and his intended target. Pat just barely managed to stop himself from crashing into it.

"Is there a problem here?" the Captain asked. He turned a bit to the side and held out his arms to keep everyone at a distance.

Pat stepped back. He could definitely take on Barclay. But not the Captain. And not both of them together.

"Ah, Captain, old chap." Barclay's grin was back. Had it ever left? "I was just saying how nice it is for Lady Button to open her home to those in need."

"What?" The Captain scrunched up his nose for a second as he looked from Barclay to Pat and the others and back again. He straightened his shoulders and turned to Barclay. "Right. You should leave."

"Nonsense, old chap." Barclay made to lay his hand on the Captain's arm. The Captain took a step back. "Let's have a catch-up. Just you and me."

The Captain remained stone-faced. "No."

The two man stared at each other for an intense moment.

"The door's that way." The Captain pointed towards the exit. But Barclay made no move to follow the obvious suggestion.

And Pat saw the moment the Captain lost his cool. The twitch of an eyebrow and the lift of the right side of his mouth was all Pat could see before the Captain stepped forward and right into Barclay's space.

"Leave. Now."

Barclay leaned back but otherwise did not seem too impressed. "No neighbourly love to share, have you? Should have known."

The Captain rolled his eyes. "I know you have more than enough neighbourly love to share for both of us." Barclay's widening eyes made it obvious that he knew exactly whatever the hell the Captain was implying. "Just take your dogs and leave, Barclay."

"Oh, I will." Barclay nodded. "I know when I'm not welcome."

"Clearly," Robin muttered from somewhere behind Pat and Pat did everything he could not to laugh.

"Don't forget your wife," the Captain said. "She's probably at the bar."

"I won't." Barclay's smile had become visibly strained. "Lovely to meet you all." With a little salute, he turned and quickly made his way out of the room.

The Captain frowned after him and only when it was obvious that Barclay would not make a return, did he move his gaze from the open front door to the assembled group.

"Do not listen to anything that old windbag says," he said, with a particular intense glance in Pat's direction. "Don't let him get to you."

"Scumbag," Robin supplied helpfully.

The Captain's eyebrows went up and down for a second. "Yes. Indeed."

"What's his problem then?" Pat asked. Not all posh people were like that, right? Lady Button was a bit uptight and snooty and the Captain was, well, the Captain but even he was not that unpleasant to be around. Not that Pat was around him much.

The Captain shrugged and fiddled with the blue tie he was wearing. "General unhappiness I imagine. His wife is a drunk, he himself a gambler. Addictions all around really." He dropped his tie and shuffled his feet. He seemed unsure what to do with his hands for a second before he stuffed them into the pockets of his trousers.

"Is he gone?" Lady Button had appeared in the doorway where she came to a stop. Dante however kept striding right into the room and began circling the Captain's feet, distributing his fur all over the man's dark blue suit trousers. The Captain frowned down at him but made no move to stop him.

"Yes, Barclay's gone," he said belatedly.

"Good. Never liked that man." Lady Button walked a little closer, her hands folded across her middle.

"Right." The Captain's gaze finally left the dog and instead focused on a point on the ceiling. "I'm going to take down the bouncy castle." He made for the door.

Pat looked towards the others with disappointment. They had hoped to have a go. Now that the kids were gone.

"Actually," Lady Button spoke up. She nodded her head towards the library. "I need a word with you, Captain."

The Captain's eyes narrowed. Then they nearly rolled out of his skull. He grumbled something akin to "This is ridiculous" as he made his way across the room and into the library. Dante followed right behind him.

Pat and the others stared at Lady Button. She stared back. Then the barest hint of a smile crossed her stern features.

"Go on then."

Chapter Text

At the end of August, Button House was struck down by a nasty bout of flu. Kitty and Thomas were the first to fall and excused themselves from Pizza Night via WhatsApp. Robin and Mary showed up but were noticeably less enthusiastic about food than usual and withdrew from the event early. Leaving Pat, Humphrey and Lady Button with a large pile of leftover pizza.

Their weekly staff meeting the next day was, unsurprisingly, missing a few people. Pat and Humphrey entered the ballroom together with about a minute to spare to find only Lady Button and the Captain in attendance. They were intensely quibbling about something. Nothing new there really.

The latter was for once not dressed in his usual gardening attire but in a white shirt and blue jumper, a red tie and dark blue suit trousers. Similar to the outfit he had worn during Pat's job interview. He had forgone the Brylcreem though.

"He going to a job interview?" Humphrey whispered, side-eyeing the Captain suspiciously as they sat down on one of the sofas.

"Are we hiring more staff?" Pat wondered if he had missed something. He had not noticed any areas that lacked personnel. But he had no idea what it took to run a manor house like this, so what did he know?

"Not that I know," Humphrey replied. "Maybe he's the one being interviewed? Every good manor house has a resident hermit. Or so I've heard."

"Doesn't he have that job already? I think the gardening's just a side gig."

Humphrey snorted.

Lady Button walked towards them, leaving the Captain to sulk in one of the window seats.

"Let's make this quick," she started. "Everyone else has unfortunately taken ill, so it is down to the four of us to keep this place running today. Patrick," she fixed him with an intense stare that made him want to click his heels together, "I would ask you to help Humphrey with the youth club that is coming in at ten. No other tours will take place today. The Captain and I will be available for the other guests. The café will remain closed if any of the visitors ask." She paused for a moment. "Are there any questions?"

"No ma'am."

Lady Button dismissed them and Pat followed Humphrey to one of the rooms in the East Wing where they worked with visiting groups. Mostly schoolchildren or sometimes the odd band of pensioners that wanted to spice up their bowls club life or bingo routine with a collective visit to an old manor house.

"What age range are we talking?" Pat asked as Humphrey pulled him over to a large cupboard. Thomas had originally been scheduled for this activity, so Pat had not bothered to memorise the details. This would be his first time helping out with a children's group. It was still the summer holidays, so things had been a bit slow on that front.

"Eight to twelve." Humphrey deposited a colourful array of art supplies into Pat's arms. "We'll give them the tour, let them run wild in the garden over lunch for an hour and then we'll show them how to design their own coat of arms and shield." He held up a cardboard cut-out. Pat grinned. Sounded exactly like his kind of thing.

The tour started off okay. Most of the kids at least pretended to be interested in what Humphrey and Pat had to say. Some of them even asked well-versed questions that showed that they were actively listening. The dining table of Henry VIII was a personal highlight for most of them. They spent a good quarter of an hour just examining the different plastic dishes on display.

The way they laughed at some of them in delighted disgust reminded Pat a lot of Daley. Whenever his son came to visit, he would ask Pat to take him to see the swan. The first time it had happened, Pat had mistakenly thought Daley meant a real swan and had led him outside to the lake before Daley had clarified which swan he'd had in mind.

Two of the more rambunctious children found themselves on the receiving end of a stern talking-to by the Captain, who had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, just as the boys got the grand idea to climb up onto the Regency-era chairs. They looked properly scolded by the time the Captain had finished speaking to them. For a moment they just stared up at him with wide eyes before they scuttled back to the rest of the group.

"Watch out for those two," the Captain told Pat before glowering at the gaggle of children in its entirety, arms folded over his chest.

"Do you have a license for that?" Pat asked.

"What?" The Captain uncrossed his arms and blinked at him genuinely confused.

"That death glare. One of these days you're going to kill someone."

The Captain harrumphed and retreated to a corner from where he continued to keep a close watch on the proceedings.

Luckily, he had better things to do than follow the group to the next room. They finished the tour without further incidents or sightings of the Captain. Pat and Humphrey led the children outside where, under the hopefully watchful eyes of their minders, they were able to run off their pent-up energy in the gardens.

As soon as they were all out of earshot, Humphrey bent over and took a few deep breaths.

"I'm very, very sorry, Pat, but I don't think I can keep going."

Pat laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You feeling poorly, mate?"

"Since the Victorian room. Suddenly hit me." Humphrey continued to breathe deeply, mouth hanging open. "Maybe I'll just lie down for a bit. Might feel better in an hour."

With the way the others were still laid up, it was unlikely.

Pat gave Humphrey a reassuring pat on the back. "I'll talk to Lady B. We'll figure it out. You just focus on getting better, alright?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna lie down and maybe die," Humphrey mumbled and walked off, clutching his poor head as if it might fall off any second.

Pat found Lady Button and Dante in the library and updated her on the situation.

She sighed. "That is what I feared. Go eat your lunch, Patrick, and come find me afterwards."

He trundled into the kitchen where he caught the Captain with a large piece of leftover Pizza-Night-pizza hanging from his mouth.

They stared at each other.

"I thought you didn't like pizza," Pat finally said. Just to start a conversation and maybe bring the staring contest to an end.

The Captain had to take a bite off the pizza and chew for an uncomfortable long moment before he could answer. "I have never said that."

"Oh. One of the others mentioned it, I think." Pat started sweating under the Captain's stern gaze. Why could this guy never just look at anyone normally? "That's why you don't come to Pizza Night."

"That is not why I don't attend Pizza Night. And the note said to help finish the leftovers." With the hand that held the pizza, the Captain motioned towards the sign taped to one of the refrigerators. Humphrey had put it up there this morning.

"So, you like pizza then?" Pat asked tentatively, not entirely sure what the intention behind his question was.

"Mmh." The Captain stuffed the rest of the pizza into his mouth without breaking eye contact. That was probably the best answer Pat was going to get.

"You can join us anytime," Pat told him as he walked past him to grab his own leftover pizza. He tried to sound nonchalant. "For Pizza Night." He stared into the fridge. They would be eating pizza for days, especially with Humphrey now out for the count.

"You don't really mean that," the Captain mumbled and strode out of the room. He did not even give Pat the chance to protest.

Because Pat really did mean it. Humphrey and the others had never really provided a reason why the Captain did not participate in any of their after-work activities beyond the aversion to pizza. Which clearly wasn't true. And the Captain being a prat. Humphrey's words. Which, yeah. The Captain did act like a bit of a prat most of the time. He was rude and argumentative on all the weekdays that ended with Y. But Pat could not help but feel that there was more to all of this. Which is why he was still hesitating to admit defeat and just actively dislike the man.

But maybe that was just Pat being too nice for his own good. He never saw the bad in people until it was too late. Maybe he should start disliking people more actually. Might save him from getting hurt again.

Pat decided not to dwell on it for now and enjoy his pizza instead. He still had a long day ahead of him.

Half an hour later saw Pat back with Lady Button. In the office this time.

"The Captain will join you for the arts-and-crafts session with the youth group."

That was a bit of a bombshell, wasn't it?

"He volunteered, did he?" Oh, that had just come out, hadn't it? Maybe the not-liking someone was easier than Pat had thought. "Sorry," he mumbled when he realised that Lady Button had heard his grumbling. Even when he resented someone, he did not wish to slander them. Just keep your thoughts to yourself, Pat.

Lady Button had narrowed her eyes at him. "He did not, in fact. But it will do him well to get involved a bit."

"Is he an artsy sort of person?" Pat asked, wondering how much help the Captain would actually be in that regard. Not to mention the fact that there would be children present. Pat did not have much to go on but from the short interactions he had witnessed this morning and with Daley, he had concluded that the Captain got decidedly flustered by the younger population. Hopefully, he wouldn't make any of them cry with his glaring.

"He can hold a paintbrush without taking his eye out," is all Lady Button said on the subject of the Captain's art skills.

That was something at least. They would have enough eight-year-olds that had not reached that level of dexterity yet. Not that Pat was any sort of Da Vinci.

"Let's just get through the day," Lady Button sighed. The bags under her eyes were more prominent than usual and her face did its best to match the colour of her grey dress. No wonder when everyone was laid up and the gardener had to join the arts-and-crafts activity for a bunch of schoolchildren.

"Yeah." Pat whole-heartedly agreed.

He spent the rest of his lunch hour with brief visits to the others to fulfil tea orders and provide salty crackers, hot water bottles and cold compresses. He washed out a bucket or two despite the protests of those who had filled them. He was the father of a kid who had already managed to shit and vomit onto every surface under the sun in his short life. Bodily fluids in a pail were nothing. Afterwards, he came to the conclusion that they were all still pretty miserable.

He found the Captain in the room Pat and Humphrey had prepared earlier. Before Pat could attempt another sorry excuse of a conversation, the children were frogmarched into the room by their hassled minders. The two poor dears had not had a relaxed lunch hour it seemed.

Pat gave them all a mostly improvised introduction on family crests that he had managed to get out of Humphrey while bringing him tea earlier. He followed it up with some instructions on what their craft entailed, along with some rules which, from the corner of his eye, he saw the Captain nodding along to with great enthusiasm.

Then the children were let loose on the paints and scissors and liquid glue. It sounded worse than it actually was. There were no amputated fingers or paint puddles to report after the first scramble for materials had calmed down, so it was a success in Pat's eyes. But then, as a father and former Cub Scout leader, he knew what children could be like, so his standards were fairly low to begin with.

The Captain fluttered around the room like a deranged butterfly as he pushed paint pots sitting too close to the edge back towards the centre of the tables and deposited the scissors back in the cups they had originally been stored in.

"Can you help me, mister?" one of the children piped up.

Pat was ready to spring into action but took a second to identify the speaker. When he finally did, he realised that she hadn't addressed him at all. The girl was staring at the Captain with big eyes. The Captain stared right back with even bigger eyes.

"Yes. Alright," he finally said. Good. Because one of the club leaders and Pat himself had started inching closer to intervene.

The Captain walked closer to glance over her project. Then he narrowed his eyes at the kid.

"I want a turtle on my coat arms," the girl told him, holding up a pencil towards him. "Please, can you draw me a turtle?"

The Captain visibly panicked, pulling on his tie as he cleared his throat. He ignored the pencil entirely as he stared at the girl.

Pat would have walked up to them and offered his help but he really wanted to see how this played out. And he wasn't any good when it came to drawing sea creatures.

"Maybe draw a circle?" the Captain asked, voice wavering, clearly out of his depth and comfort zone.

The little girl, her name tag revealed her to be named Poppy, seemed not convinced. She glanced over her cardboard shield before staring at the Captain again.

The man did a double-take when the child did not adhere to his advice right away. "For the shell," he snapped.

Okay, maybe Pat should intervene after all. He tried to drift closer without making it too obvious. He knew that the Captain would either startle like a deer in headlights and then run or immediately snap someone's head off like a wolf if he felt someone threatening him.

"Oh yeah," Poppy replied chirpily, seemingly not faced by the Captain's harsh tone. She used her pencil to draw something on the cardboard in front of her. "Do turtles have four legs?" Poppy asked as she did so.

"Yes," the Captain replied absently as he seemed to examine the girl's work. Then he frowned and turned to stare at her again.

"Or," she went on, "is it two legs and two arms?" Poppy looked up with eyes blown wide with curiosity.

The Captain's frown dissolved into an expression that Pat struggled to interpret. Amusement perhaps? Or admiration?

"Let's call them front legs and hind legs," the Captain suggested, almost softly.

Poppy hummed thoughtfully. "How do I draw the front legs?" The two of them stared at the turtle circle for a few seconds with the Captain awkwardly hovering over her from behind.

"Maybe..." he started before immediately trailing off. He aborted three more attempts to speak before he visibly took a deep breath. "Maybe we can try together?"

Poppy nodded eagerly and held out her hand that was clutching the pencil. The Captain hesitated for a second before he carefully took hold of the little rubber bit at the top. Pat watched, in what almost felt like an out-of-body experience, as the two of them traced the pencil across the cardboard together. They had a murmured conversation that Pat was unfortunately too far away to hear while they worked.

Poppy seemed happy with the end results because she turned to beam at the Captain with a bright smile. The Captain did not quite return the gesture but there was definitely something softening in his stoic demeanour.

Until Poppy grabbed a paint brush and plunged it into the purple paint right in front of her. The Captain twitched violently and for a second Pat thought he would grab the little girl's hand.

"What are you doing?" the man hissed, still unable to control his body's response to the distress he was clearly experiencing as he danced around on his toes.

Poppy looked up at him. "I'm gonna paint my turtle." Her eager expression turned into a frown.

"Purple?" the Captain screeched. Some of the other children close to the scene looked up from their projects to stare at him.

"Yes." Poppy did not seem fazed by his apparent breakdown. "It's my favourite colour."

The Captain made a series of aborted choking noises and, to Pat's horror, his hands balled into tight fists at his sides. Pat hurried over. The Captain wasn't going to hit a child, was he?

He wasn't. He choked out "Great choice" and then attempted to flee the scene. He was quickly stopped when another girl at the table grabbed his hand as he passed her.

"I want a unicorn, mister."

The Captain quickly pulled his hand back but stepped closer to help. He became a highly demanded figure after that. "Mister, what are the colours of the rainbow?" and "Can you do Minecraft?" were only two of the questions suddenly thrown at him and two of the ones he was forced to google on his phone.

Pat felt it was safe to retreat and pay attention to the rest of the group again. He kept a close watch on the Captain because he could not quite shake the feeling that the man's patience was close to breaking. Only when he witnessed the Captain kneel down next to one of the boys he had told off in the Regency room this morning and converse with him for quite a while, did Pat relax a bit. And then the Captain laughed at something the boy said and Pat had to retreat further away so as not to be caught staring.

At one point he noticed Lady Button hovering in the doorway, discreetly trying to peer into the room without being seen.

Pat sidled up to her.

"How are you faring in here?" she asked when he reached her. She probably meant "Has anybody been yelled at or killed yet?"

"Well." Pat pushed his glasses up his nose. "The Captain doesn't believe in purple turtles but nobody has jumped out of a window so far. I'd call that a success."

Lady Button was apparently of the opinion that success should not be measured by such standards but she visibly stopped herself from commenting.

The club leaders had finally managed to wrangle the children into a line and out the door. Pat stared at the mess left in their wake. To be fair to them, it did not look worse than any other art-aftermath he had seen.

"I can help you clean up if you like," the Captain spoke up. He was leaning against one of the tables and looked like he would rather do anything else.

"Nah, it's fine." Pat picked up some paintbrushes. "You can go find Lady B if you want."

"Fine." The Captain suddenly sounded annoyed. He turned and stormed out of the room without another word.

Pat spent the next half hour or so cleaning up and putting everything back where it belonged. It was a nice break after that whirlwind of a day. Then he returned to the showrooms to spend the rest of the afternoon until closing time on rounds. He ran into the Captain in the ballroom. Not literally run into him. Just came across him. The man was in a conversation with an elderly couple.

The Captain caught his eye and did a movement with his head that made Pat stop in his tracks. He waited for the Captain to finish explaining the route to the nearest toilet before stepping closer.

"Lady Button has retired to her quarters," the Captain told him with a lot more consternation than such a statement really required.

"Oh." Pat pulled on his glasses. "I thought she looked a bit tired. Is she not feeling well?"

"Afraid so." The Captain cleared his throat.

"So it's just us against the world?"

The Captain's eyebrows drew together. "Against the visitors at least, yes."

Pat glanced at his watch. It was almost four. So about two more hours. "We can do it," he said confidently.

"Hm." The Captain addressed the next bit to the ceiling. "We might need to stay closed tomorrow if none of the others have recovered yet."

They definitely hadn't recovered yet. After his shift, Pat replenished everyone's hot water bottles and made more tea. Then he spent a few minutes rummaging through the two refrigerators for anything he could put in a soup.

"Are you looking for something?"

Pat screamed and almost tumbled into the fridge. He turned to see the Captain, still in his dress shirt and tie, standing in the doorway.

"Just looking for some vegetables," Pat told him, slightly discombobulated. It was rare to meet the Captain in the kitchen. And now twice in one day. "I was gonna make soup for the others."

"Is that all you've come up with?" The Captain nodded at the three miserable carrots and a couple of spring onions that had definitely seen better days.

Pat shrugged. "We are all due a trip to the shops it seems."

"Right." The Captain looked up at him with narrowed eyes. Then he turned on his heels and left.

"Okay?" Pat blinked at the empty doorway and then pulled his phone from his pocket. He should pull up a recipe and make a shopping list. Salty crackers and tea would need replenishing too.

About fifteen minutes later he was startled out of his concentration when something big and heavy was set down on the table right in front of him. He looked up to see a large wooden crate brimming with vegetables, the Captain hovering awkwardly nearby.

"Vegetables," he said gruffly in response to Pat's raised eyebrows. "For your soup."

"Oh." Pat examined the produce closer. There were leaks and carrots, green beans, peas and broccoli. "These look amazing. Did you grow'em all yourself?"

"Yes." The Captain sounded only slightly offended that Pat had even asked. There was some dirt on his sleeves and the front of his shirt.

"Well. Thank you."

"Mh." The Captain made for the door but then stopped just as he reached the threshold. He stayed like that for a second before slowly turning around to look in Pat's direction. Not directly at him but the general direction. "Maybe..." His gaze wandered to the floor and he stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets. "Would you ... would you mind making a bit more? For Lady Button?"

"Oh yeah, no problem, mate." Pat smiled but the Captain wouldn't see with the way he was stoically examining the stone floor. "I'll make some for all of us."

"Thank you." Then the Captain was gone.

Later, when he returned to take a bowl of soup to Lady Button, he looked surprised when Pat told him to come back afterwards for his own bowl.

"I said I'd make soup for all of us, didn't I?" Pat watched him closely.

"But ... for me too?" The Captain looked down at the tray he was meant to carry over to Lady Button's room, so Pat could not quite see his face. His voice sounded a bit odd. Lower than usual.

Pat leaned his head to the side. "Are you not part of 'all of us'?"

Instead of answering, the Captain looked up at him and frowned. Then he left the kitchen.

Pat was convinced he would not see him again that night. He left the soup on low heat while he delivered dinner to the others. They all thanked him profusely but just by looking at Thomas and Humphrey he knew that not everyone would be able to finish their portion. Which was fine. As long as they got at least some sustenance. Poor petals.

To his surprise, the Captain was leaning over the pot with the soup and stirring the contents when Pat returned to the kitchen for his own dinner. Dante snuffled over for a greeting which Pat returned with a little scratch behind the ears and a soft "Hello little fellow".

The soup ladle the Captain had been holding clanked against the side of the pot when he startled and dropped it in shock.

"I hope it's still hot enough," Pat said, walking over to stand next to him. " Nothing worse than lukewarm soup."

Pat retrieved two bowls from the cupboard and handed one over to the Captain. The man blinked down at the object as if he had never used a bowl before. Just in case he hadn't, Pat proceeded to ladle some soup into his own bowl and fished two spoons out of the silverware drawer before sitting down at the table.

The Captain glanced into the pot again. "Are you sure there's enough?"

Pat frowned. The pot was still half full. With all those vegetables, he had been able to make enough soup that there was at least one more portion for everyone to enjoy tomorrow. And he could always make more.

The Captain still made no move to serve himself, so Pat stood up, took the bowl from him, filled it to the brim with soup and carefully carried it over to the table. Some soup must have sloshed onto the floor anyway because Dante was there immediately to clean up after him. Pat placed the bowl down on the table in the space opposite of his own. He slid over the spoon as he sat down again.

The Captain slowly shuffled over. Honestly, he looked like he was having some sort of soup-related crisis.

"Sit down, mate." Pat decided to give him some privacy and focused on his dinner. Mmh, delicious.

The Captain hovered a few more moments before he finally sat down.

"Thank you, Patrick."

Pat looked up and smiled at him. "You're welcome."

They ate their dinner in silence, only the spoons scraping against china now and then. And Dante's tail softly thumping against the floor. It had taken a moment for Pat to realise what that noise was. When he looked under the table to follow it to the source, he found Dante lying between the Captain's feet with an expectant look upwards.

"Do not believe him. He had his dinner," the Captain said when he caught Pat looking at the dog.

"Aw, poor little petal."

The Captain looked down then too. And sighed before he carefully extracted himself from his chair to walk over to the pantry. Dante's claws scratched against the stone tiles as he hurried to follow him.

The Captain's personal shelf was at the very top and he had to stand on his tiptoes to lift down a heavy-looking wooden box labelled 'bread'. He brought it back to the kitchen table. Before he opened it, he looked Pat dead in the eye.

"If you tell Fanny about this, I will murder you in your sleep."

Pat had not received many death threats in his life. Friendly jibes between mates only. This was the first one he actually believed to be serious. So he just nodded.

The Captain lowered his gaze to the box and opened it to reveal the largest stash of dog treats Pat had seen outside of a pet shop. Dante began whining as soon as the Captain rifled through the colourful plastic packaging.

A selection was made and the dog provided with a treat that he startled gnarling on immediately.

"Oh." The Captain looked at Pat. "Is that alright? I can put him outside." He made to grab the dog.

"It's fine, mate," Pat hurried to say. "Doesn't bother me."

"Are you certain?" The Captain remained in position to lift Dante off the floor.

"Yeah. Eat your soup. It's getting cold."

"Oh. Yes." The Captain returned to his chair and picked up his spoon again.

Pat did not want to ruin whatever the two of them had achieved this evening, so he let silence fall once more.

It took them over a week to get Button House properly up and running again.

Humphrey carefully diced some tomatoes. This dinner would be the first meal in a while that he actually felt hungry for. Pat's soups had been a nice gesture and he had done his best to clear his bowl every time. But not being able to taste anything and a general feeling of queasiness had taken the joy out of food for a few days.

While he was laid up, Pat seemed to have had the time of his life. He now recounted how much he had enjoyed working with the children's group last week. Pat too was cutting up tomatoes. There was a whole bowl of them sitting dead centre on the kitchen table. Pat had told them they were up for grabs.

Lady Button watched them work over her steaming cup of tea. She too had been struck down by the flu and this was the first time anyone had seen her since last Wednesday. Dante was nowhere in sight.

"I was a Cub Scout leader back in Reading, yannow?"

Of course Pat had been a Cub Scout leader back in Reading. That man was so dad-shaped, he would willingly surround himself with stranger's children in his free time to sing songs around a campfire. He had probably coached a football team as well.

"Archery was my favourite. And the camping of course. Highlight of the year. Every time. The kids were always so hardworking." They let Pat ramble on and reminisce for a bit. He was the only one with fully charged energy levels. Lucky bugger had probably gone through every illness on Planet Earth by the time Daley was three and now had the immune system of an elephant.

"Was thinking of getting a group going in the village actually," Pat went on and turned to Lady B. "Is there a village hall or something?"

"There is." Lady B leaned forward. "But you'll struggle to get a time slot. There is a surprising amount of Bingo going on in this town. At least according to Barclay."

"Ah." Pat deflated.

"You could always hold your meetings here of course," Lady B said, lifting her nose in a way that dared Pat to turn her down.

She needn't have worried. "Oh really?" Pat lit up.

"Of course. Those meeting rooms upstairs are free to be used in the evenings. And the grounds too, of course. For archery and such."

"Cor, that would be amazing, Lady B." Pat's face threatened to split in two from smiling so hard. "I mean Button. Thank you."

"No."

"What?"

"I said no."

Humphrey really didn't mean to eavesdrop but it just happened. He had been on his way upstairs to his room for an early night. His first day back at work had left him knackered. He carefully looked into the ballroom where the voices had come from. Lady B and the Captain stood near one of the windows, Dante swirling around their feet.

"I heard what you said. My ears work perfectly well," Lady B said. "It was more an exclamation of disbelief."

The Captain did not look at her. Instead his gaze followed Dante around the room. "My answer is still no."

Lady B leaned backwards. "I did not ask a question, did I?"

"Still. No."

"You seem to be of the belief that you have any say in this."

"Of course I do." Humphrey could make out the Captain's frown from across the room.

"You absolutely do not. This is my house and I can do what I like."

The Captain's shoulders slumped. "This really isn't a good idea."

"I thinks it's a marvellous idea." Lady B lifted her head in sheer defiance.

"Just because you have developed this strange urge to surround yourself with people, does not mean we should invite just everyone into our home. They are all strangers."

"Feel free to leave. Get your own flat."

A charged silence fell which Humphrey used to wonder why the Captain was still living here at Button House if he disliked all of them so much. They would all be better off if the Captain and the dark rain cloud that seemed to constantly follow him got their own little flat somewhere else. Far away preferably. The Wi-Fi in this place wasn't that great anyway. And there was never enough hot water.

"Fine," the Captain ground out. "If you go ahead with this, then I'll want to proceed with my project."

Lady B immediately shock her head. "Absolutely not. This isn't primary school, you know."

"You have never even let me explain it to you." The Captain held out his arms.

"You don't need to. I do not want any of it on display. Nobody wants to see that."

"I do," the Captain mumbled so quietly that Humphrey almost didn't hear him.

"Then go to your room." Lady B's response was all the louder for it. "You have a whole collection about that nonsense there." Wow, was she actually his mother? She was so well-practiced in telling the Captain off as if he was a small child.

And the Captain had exactly two default reactions to these scoldings. Either he stomped his foot and marched off to sulk in a corner for at least two business days or he just stood there like a sad, wet cat in the rain. He opted for the latter today. He had that look down to an art. With his hands now in his trouser pockets, and his slumped shoulders and his boot scuffing against the wooden floor. "It's not fair."

Humphrey had seen interactions between those two end like this a few times now and he could never decide who he felt more sorry for in these moments. The Captain because he always looked so very lost and Humphrey was not entirely sure if it was just an act or not. Or Lady B because she had to put up with this man-child all the time. Made him wonder why she did not just lay the Captain off. Humphrey would have ages ago. Never would have hired him in the first place. Fresh vegetables and pretty roses be damned. He would rather just mow the lawn himself than put up with that man.

"Oh, you want fair, do you?" Lady B asked. "You want to put everything to the vote now?"

"Can I put my project to the vote?"

"Oh, go right ahead. You'll have so many supporters with the way you have been behaving yourself."

Humphrey had not been aware that Lady B was capable of sarcasm. Good for her actually.

The following Wednesday, they went through the usual motions that a staff meeting entailed before Lady B proposed a vote on Pat's Cub Scout idea.

"Everyone in favour, please raise your hand."

Pat sat up straight, hands on his knees. "Oh golly, if I had known there was going to be a vote, I'd have ..." He trailed off when he saw that everyone, including Lady Button had raised their hand.

Except for the Captain of course. He was staring out of a window, his arms folded across his chest.

"That's decided then." Lady B had not even bothered to look at the Captain. "Congratulations, Patrick. You may proceed with your plans. Do let me know if you need anything. Any other business?"

This was usually the point where the Captain chimed in with some complaint but he stayed quiet today. He had been doing that more and more lately.

"I feel sorry for him, yannow," Pat said later, once Humphrey had filled him in on the conversation he had accidentally overheard (not eavesdropped on!) a few days ago. Thomas had a tour scheduled this morning but the two of them were free to do their rounds.

"What? The Captain? He's just a prick, Pat."

"No, I mean ..." Pat sighed. "There must be a reason why he is like that."

Humphrey was pretty certain that the Captain had served in the Army at some point. Who knew what he had seen. Humphrey had tried to give the bloke the benefit of the doubt, had done his best to include him and be friendly to him with little to no results other than a "No, thank you" at best.

"Being a prick is a reason, right?"

Pat looked not convinced.

Chapter Text

A new tenant was moving in.

A new tenant! This was not a drill.

Button House was abuzz with the news. And Humphrey was right in the middle of it.

Lady Button had only told them last night over pizza. Which was already unusual because she normally reserved this kind of news for the staff meetings. But they had all been in attendance (except for the usual suspect), so it had not made much of a difference.

More importantly, the new tenant was arriving today. To-day!

Actually, maybe that was why Lady B had told them last night. Mary had immediately declared that she would bake a carrot cake in the morning (yes!). As a welcome gesture.

It was all very exciting.

Since they were all working their usual shifts today, they would have to wait until the evening to properly meet him. That's what Lady B had said. But as soon as she had been spotted giving their new housemate a tour around noon, Humphrey, Pat, Robin and Thomas had managed to coincidentally assemble in the drawing room to get a glimpse.

He was a tall bloke. Greying blonde hair parted in the middle with a lot of product. Normal suit and tie get-up. The trousers looked a bit short. All in all, he looked a bit like a sleazy Tory MP from the nineties.

He introduced himself as Julian Fawcett and immediately followed that with the announcement that he was a lawyer. MP was close then. He even handed out business cards. Humphrey took a quick peek before he stuffed the card into his pocket. Family law. Divorce attorney. Bit late for that.

Since they were all there anyway, Lady B told them that two of them might as well spend their lunch break helping Julian move his belongings to his new room. Humphrey turned to Thomas for the obligatory rock-paper-scissors contest. That's how they settled disagreements around here, okay? He saw Robin and Pat get into position for their own match.

"Oh, that's fun," Julian commented, pulling on his tie as he grinned at their raised fists.

"One, two, three."

Humphrey laid his hand out flat at the last possible moment and then stared at whatever Thomas had come up with.

"Is that a gun?"

"It's a pistol." Thomas sounded offended that Humphrey had even asked. Yeah, it looked like a pistol but

"There's no pistol in rock-paper-scissors. Hence the name, mate."

Thomas put his hands on his hips. "I always choose pistol!" His eyes had widened dramatically.

"You've never pulled out a pistol before." And Humphrey would know.

A number of rock-paper-scissors matches have taken place under this roof. There was that one time when a piece of cucumber had fallen down the back of the fridge and grown so mouldy that it had become self-aware. They had all claimed innocence and were prepared to throw hands to defend their honour when someone, to this day it was unclear who, had proposed a peaceful settlement of the dispute. Humphrey had always thought it had been Lady B's suggestion until Robin had pointed out to him weeks later that she had not even been present at the time. In the end, Humphrey had been the big loser of the competition and had taken the blame for the mouldy produce even though his personal shelf was located in the other fridge and he wasn't that keen on cucumbers anyway.

He was certain that a pistol had never been part of any rock-paper-scissors competition though.

"Faradiddle, sir." Thomas looked loath to be reasoned with, an almost manic look settling in his wide eyes.

Pat and Robin had finished their own game by now and had to be filled in on the problem at hand. Humphrey spared a glance towards Lady B when she sighed a sigh of despair.

"I hope you will soon return to the more important matters at hand. You are all working if you have forgotten," she said before she left the room, nose high in the air.

"Mate," Pat addressed Thomas. "We can't have a pistol in rock-paper-scissors. It would throw off the maths. Which of the others would win against the pistol?"

"Pistol always wins." It was clear that Thomas would not relent in the face of something as unromantic as mathematics.

"Can I throw in an AK47 assault rifle?"

Humphrey turned to see that Julian had joined their little debate circle. His grin was a bit too wide to be friendly.

"Noo," Pat whined, shaking his hands up and down. "Just plain rock-paper-scissors, si vous plait."

"Fine." Thomas adopted a dramatic pose, legs further apart than they really needed to be, fist raised as if he wanted to bonk someone on the head with it.

"You sure you're ready?" Humphrey asked as he lifted his own hand to about chest-height.

Thomas lowered his eyebrows. "I was born ready."

"Sure," Humphrey muttered, just about resisting an eye roll. "Pat, count us down." He did not fancy being accused of cheating next.

Pat dutifully stepped between the two of them. "One. Two. Three."

Humphrey grinned when he saw that his assumption of Thomas being so agitated that he would be unable to play anything but 'rock' had come true. He wrapped his hand around Thomas's with a self-satisfactory smile.

Thomas fell onto his knees. "Why must I always be spurned?"

"Bad luck, Tom." Pat put a consoling hand on the man's shoulder. "Maybe next time. I'll come find you in a bit, so you can have your lunch break, yeah?"

Thomas sniffed before climbing to his feet again. "Thank you, Patrick. You're an honourable man."

Despite losing the rock-paper-scissors contest to Pat, Robin tagged along as Humphrey, Pat and Julian made their way out to Julian's car. He had his own interpretation of a work schedule.

Julian had brought a surprisingly meagre amount of possessions with him. But also, he had a tiny car. One of those expensive sports cars that were entirely unpractical for everyday life. Red and shiny. And definitely too small to fit a bloke of Julian's size comfortably.

None of them commented on the fact that there were only two carry-on suitcases and two cardboard boxes to be carried upstairs. Wasn't an attorney supposed to have more suits? Maybe there was a moving van coming at some point?

It only took one trip to carry Julian's stuff upstairs to his new room. Pat reassured him that he had done a deep-clean of their shared bathroom this morning and showed him which cabinet was Julian's to use and where he could hang his towels so they would not get them mixed up. Julian seemed absolutely disinterested in Pat's frankly admirable organisational skills and only waved him off half-heartedly. Pat pouted at being dismissed so flippantly, so Humphrey made sure to compliment him on his towel-folding technique that had been put on display on a little shelf in the corner of the bathroom.

They invited Julian to eat lunch with them. Well, Robin did. The four of them were about halfway down the main staircase back to the ground floor when the Captain came into view. He had just begun his journey up the stairs but when he saw them, he stopped and pressed himself against the wall as if he was afraid to come into physical contact with any of them.

"Ah, Captain," Julian drawled and slunk further down the stairs until he came to a stop two steps above the Captain. Humphrey, Pat and Robin stayed back and watched them from further up.

The Captain's usual frown became even darker as he glared up at the other man. "Fawcett," he bit out. It sounded like it physically hurt him to say Julian's name.

Very interesting. Humphrey checked to see what Robin and Pat were making of this. They exchanged raised eyebrows and shrugs. So they were as intrigued as Humphrey was.

"How's it going, Captain?" Julian was very much channelling the sleazy nineties politician as he swung his hips from side to side.

The Captain refused to respond. Even when Julian moved further into his space. Instead the Captain took a step backwards. Which was a bad move to make when you were standing on a staircase.

His foot stepped into thin air and the Captain stumbled the three steps back down to the ground floor. Where he finally managed to right himself. His glare intensified and Humphrey was surprised Julian still had not caught fire yet.

The Captain then spun around and quickly disappeared into the drawing room, limping slightly.

"Square," Julian chuckled. He turned to grin up at them.

Humphrey exchanged a puzzled shrug with Pat before following Robin down the stairs.

"You know Captain?" Robin asked when they reached Julian.

"The granddad?" Julian adjusted the red tie he was wearing. "Of course I do. He comes with the house, doesn't he?" Which was a very non-answer really.

"You are an attorney," Humphrey stated as they made their way through the drawing room. He had suddenly realised that Lady B had never explained to them what position Julian would be filling here at Button House. There wasn't any legal trouble, right?

"The best divorce attorney in the county." Julian pointed at himself pretentiously. "Managed to get Lady B this place in the divorce." He stopped and motioned around the room with his hand. Then he laid his head to the side and scrunched up his nose. "But then, her husband did try to k-"

"Fawcett."

They all turned to find that the Captain had appeared in the doorway that led to the entryway.

"Remove your little toy car from the driveway when you're finished carrying your possessions inside," he said with his usual charm. "It's in the way."

Julian snorted. "Improves the scenery if anything."

"Move it."

"Well, I'm not finished yet, am I?"

The Captain grumbled something under his breath before he turned on his heel and swung open the front door to disappear outside. The rumble of his quad bike could be heard shortly after.

"What a stick-in-the-mud." Julian rolled his eyes.

Humphrey wasn't sure if he was surprised when they walked past the front door and Julian continued on to the kitchen and did not follow the Captain's order of moving his car. He had no more belongings to carry inside so this was clearly Julian's way of antagonising the Captain further.

While that relationship was not explored further over a lunch of sausage rolls (courtesy of Pat who loved that stuff and was always happy to share) and random vegetables with hummus, they did hear all about Julian's chaotic love life.

He was currently in the middle of a wild story.

"That's what my wife said anyway." He paused. "Well, ex-wife. Although the divorce hasn't gone through yet, you know how it is." Unfortunately they did. Humphrey and Pat at least. Robin, who was not the type to commit to any romantic relationship, nodded anyway.

"She burned all my clothes." Julian announced this as if it was some kind of life achievement that one could be proud of. Explained the lack of moving boxes at least.

Humphrey liked Julian less and less with every second that passed. It was probably the only thing he would ever have in common with the Captain.

Apparently, Julian was the type of person who was not shy about revealing his entire embarrassing life story. By the time they finished lunch, Humphrey, Pat and Robin had learned about the numerous affairs he'd had while his wife was home alone with their kid and how one of those affairs had eventually led not only to the end of his marriage but also the destruction of his career. And Julian made it sound like it all wasn't really that big of a deal.

It still did not quite explain how he had ended up here at Button House. Lady B did not seem like she would want to put up with people like Julian. Humphrey was puzzled that she had even chosen him as her divorce attorney. But maybe Julian was as good as he claimed. He did get her a whole bloody manor house out of it apparently.

Pat, who was still going through his own divorce after finding his wife in bed with his best mate, had been looking decidedly uncomfortable for a good long while now. Humphrey was not surprised when he fled the kitchen with the excuse of taking over for Thomas so that he could have his break.

Pat wasn't keen on the newest addition to Button House.

His urge to leave the room whenever Julian appeared had waned a bit once the man had finally stopped talking about his divorce and claiming that his ex-wife had clearly overreacted by filing for divorce immediately after discovering his affairs. Pat still did not like him all that much. At least Julian managed to keep their shared bathroom tidy enough.

"Hi Captain," Pat greeted the man when he passed him in the foyer on his way outside. Carol was dropping Daley off any minute.

The Captain stopped in his tracks when he realised he was being addressed. "Patrick."

"You doing alright?" Pat asked.

"Yes?" The Captain looked around as if the answer was floating somewhere around them. "Yes."

"Great." Pat had quickly realised that the Captain was not the most adept at small talk. "Daley's coming over for the weekend." Just in case the Captain was interested.

"Okay?" The Captain was obviously not as thrilled as Pat about this. Or maybe he was wondering why this information was being shared with him in the first place.

After the two of them had spent about a week as the only human-beings capable of doing anything while everyone else was laid up sick, Pat had made an effort to acknowledge the other man more frequently. They'd had a bit of a bonding experience after all.

Not that they had seen much of each other during most of that time. Button House had remained completely closed for the rest of the week. The Captain had meekly asked Pat if he would be willing to call around and reschedule the tours that had been booked in advance. Other than that, Pat had spent most of his time catering to the ill and cleaning some of the dustier exhibits. Henry VIII's dining table had been a nightmare. The Captain had, presumably, just followed his routine as usual.

Still, Pat felt something had shifted between them. But he seemed to be the only one. The Captain was still as skittish as a stray cat. Not as many hissy fits maybe. Pat would take it.

"Have ..." The Captain paused. "Have fun? With ... your son?"

"Thanks, mate." Pat smiled which just seemed to throw the Captain off even more. "I'll see you around, yeah?"

"Okay. Yes." The Captain stepped around him to flee down the hallway.

Pat looked after him for a second before he remembered that he had somewhere to be. Carol and Daley were just pulling up outside the gate when Pat reached their agreed meeting point. It was Friday evening and Pat had taken this Saturday off to have a longer weekend with his boy.

Daley waved to him from the backseat and patiently waited for Pat to undo the buckles of his car seat before he slung his little arms around Pat's neck and let himself be lifted out of the car.

"Missed you, Da," Daley said into Pat's shoulder.

"Not as much as I missed you." Pat kissed the crown of Daley's head.

"Noo, I missed you more," Daley insisted.

They went back and forth a few more times before Pat admitted defeat. Although he doubted that anyone could miss anything as much as he missed his son whenever they were apart. Simply not possible.

Pat asked Carol if she needed anything before her journey back to Reading but she seemed eager to get on the road again today. She and Maurice had dinner plans as it turned out. Daley told him all about it as they made their own way to dinner. Pat had found an Italian restaurant two villages over.

Even though Pat personally resented Maurice and Carol for what they had done to him, he was glad to hear how well adjusted Daley seemed to be to his new family life. He spoke of Maurice very matter-of-factly, someone that now simply lived with them in their house. It did not sound like Daley was uncomfortable with his presence but he would probably not be calling that man 'dad' anytime soon. Good.

They spent their Saturday at Chessington Zoo before they returned home in the afternoon. Pat could not help but make a retching sound when he saw Barclay Beg-Chetwynde and his twenty dogs on the side of the country lane just before the turn-off to Button House.

"What, Da?" Daley asked from the backseat.

"Just choked on some air, mate."

"That man has so many dogs. Don't run them over, Da."

"I'll try." Pat smiled tightly. But it wasn't the dogs' fault that they had such an unpleasant owner, was it?

Pat and Daley went up to Pat's room to freshen up a bit before they made their way downstairs to the kitchen. Lady Button had invited them all to help with some long family tradition. Pat assumed it had something to do with cooking when he saw the large amount of canning jars on the counter.

Lady Button was nowhere to be seen yet but Julian and Humphrey were sitting at the kitchen table, each with a can of beer in front of them. Humphrey seemed to light up at the prospect of new conversation partners. He greeted Daley enthusiastically and inquired about the boy's stuffed giraffe he had picked out at the zoo gift shop.

Daley went into a detailed description of their day, including the sighting of a man with a gazillion dogs.

"Barclay," Pat clarified in case they thought Daley might be exaggerating.

"Oh, that old windbag," Julian said. Inexplicably, he was wearing a suit and tie. Like every time Pat had seen him. Pat was almost sure that it was always the same suit and tie. They could all hope that Julian at least changed his shirt, socks and knickers a bit more regularly.

"A windbag is exactly what the Captain called him," Pat recalled from his first and, so far, only encounter with their neighbour.

"Well, he is." Julian put up his fist. "And I called him that first, for the record."

Humphrey frowned. "The Captain said it weeks ago."

Pat eyed him suspiciously. It was weird to have Humphrey come to the Captain's defence. If that is what it was.

Julian shook his fist some more. "He just copied me. I've been calling Barclay a windbag for years."

Pat adjusted his glasses on his nose. "So, you and the Captain have known each other long then?" Pat was not out for gossip or anything but he did wonder if there had been a time when the Captain had been ... less captain-y.

"Oh, yeah. We go way back."

Humphrey snorted. "Went to the same school of arse-holery, did you?"

That made Daley giggle and Pat elbow Humphrey's ribs.

"No," Julian said and then paused. "Well, he did. You may know it as Oxford. I got a first at Cambridge."

"How does a guy go from Oxford to gardening?" Humphrey asked. "Did he drop out?"

Julian shook his head. "Military man, isn't he? With his," he imitated a stiff march from his seated position, "and his," he saluted an imaginary figure. "Very obvious. Only got out a couple of years ago."

Before further questions could be asked, the Captain appeared in the kitchen, carrying a large wooden crate with apples. He stopped to squint at them. Pat worried that he had heard them talking about him. But then the Captain just walked over to the counter to place the crate on top.

"Hi," Daley chimed up. He did a little wave when the Captain's gaze returned to them.

The Captain's eyebrows furrowed, then looked behind him at the kitchen cabinets. His eyebrows had descended even further by the time he turned around again. He left without a word.

"He's weird, isn't he?" Julian asked way too soon. There was no way the Captain was out of earshot yet. Pat expected him to come back and start yelling, maybe start a fistfight.

"He's funny." Daley threw his stuffy on to the table and climbed into the chair next to Humphrey.

"Does he still talk about tanks all the time?" Julian rolled his eyes. "God, he would go on for hours."

"Tanks?" Humphrey turned to him while holding a hand out to Daley. The boy had leaned into his space to get to his giraffe. It had bounced just out of his reach.

"Yeah. He's a bit of a fan I think." Julian said the word 'fan' in a very lewd way that made Pat frown down at the apple juice and the can of beer he was in the process of retrieving from the fridge.

"I'm a fan of giraffes," Daley stated matter-of-factly, holding his stuffy up for Julian to examine.

"Lovely legs on that one," Julian said.

Humphrey and Pat simultaneously howled out "Eew" while Daley blinked at them in glorious innocence.

Before anyone could say anything else, the Captain reappeared with another crate of apples.

"Whoa," Daley gasped. "Where'd all those come from?"

The Captain blinked at him, then at the fruit. "The orchard."

Pat placed a glass of juice in front of Daley. "There's an orchard? Here at Button House?" Cor, maybe he had to get out more. He still had not seen most of the property.

"Yes," the Captain confirmed as he heaved the crate up on to the counter next to its twin.

Humphrey snorted. "It's got like three trees, mate. Hardly counts as an orchard."

The Captain did not grace that statement with an answer and just left again. They watched him carry in three more crates, one with even more apples and two filled to the brim with pears.

Pat, now sitting at the table as well, raised his eyebrows at Humphrey. "Looks like those three trees have orchard production levels."

Humphrey took a sip from his beer instead of answering.

"I'm taking more crates down to the local press for cider." A rare smirk graced the Captain's face. It wasn't quite a mean smirk but definitely an I'm-happy-I-got-to-prove-you-wrong smirk.

Julian spoke up: "So, what does good old Lady Button want us to do with these?"

The Captain's smirk grew even wider. It was a bit disconcerting to see. "You'll see," he said and then disappeared again.

"I wanna be like him when I grow up," Daley said, full of awe.

Pat choked on his sip of Watney's.

"What? Who?" Humphrey looked around to figure out who Daley was talking about.

"The Captain," Daley told him seriously. "He's so cool. I wanna be a gardener like him."

"There's a rumour that he doesn't like pizza," Pat said before taking another sip of his beer. He knew that rumour to not be true but it might deter Daley from all this hero-worshipping.

"Pizza isn't all that great, Da."

Pat almost sprayed beer all over the kitchen in shock. "You weren't complaining about the pizza you had last night, mate."

Daley just shrugged.

Before Pat could talk him out of this sudden dislike for pizza, Lady Button entered the kitchen, Dante hot on her heels. She was wearing an apron over her dress.

"Thank you for coming." She smiled at them. But Pat did not miss how her eyes narrowed at Julian for the briefest moment.

"Hi," Daley chirped. Then he put his head under the table to wave at Dante.

As Lady Button told them about a long-standing family tradition of coming together every autumn to preserve fruit for the winter, Robin, Mary, Thomas and Kitty slunk into the kitchen. They quietly nestled themselves around the table and pretended that they had always been there.

Lady Button paused her deep-dive into her family's history to welcome the late-comers before she went on with her explanations. The rest of them exchanged confused glances. Usually they were in for a vicious dressing-down whenever they showed up after Lady Button had started speaking. Whether they were actually late or she had just gotten an early start never mattered.

The gist of her ten-minute speech was that she needed them to peel and cut the apples and pears for her grandmother's legendary stewed fruit. Pat remembered the stewed apples his elderly neighbour had always shared with them back when Pat was a kid.

"Dey not legend-ary," Robin protested. "I not heard of dem."

Lady Button saw that as an invitation to summarise her earlier history lesson again. Robin received a shove from Humphrey in thanks as he walked past to get out some cutting boards.

Pat got up and opened the cutlery drawer for some knives and the one dodgy vegetable peeler they all shared. He blinked. There were brand-new vegetable peelers in there. At least seven. And good-quality ones too. Not the shitty type you got at the next Tesco when you remembered that you needed one. Pat grabbed them all and deposited them on the table.

Mary and Kitty had started the process of washing the apples.

"Hang on," Lady Button suddenly spoke up. They all fell quiet immediately. "Where's the Captain?"

Nobody gave her an answer for a moment. Because nobody was brave enough to tell her that this kitchen was the last place the Captain would be found since they were all assembled here. Pat then told her that no one had seen him after he had dropped off the crates with the fruit.

"Outrageous." Lady Button marched over to the open doorway. "Captain! Captain!" She hollered down the hallway a few more times. Was she really surprised that he had scarpered?

To everyone's astonishment, the Captain actually stomped into the kitchen not long after.

"What?" he snapped. Then he seemed to realise that everyone was staring at him. Calmer, but visibly strained, he asked, "Is there something you require, Lady Button?"

"Yes," Lady Button told him, folding her hands over her apron. "For you to be here."

The Captain looked over to where Pat and the others had started peeling the apples while unashamedly watching the proceedings. "Why?" He turned to face Lady Button. "These people seem to be capable of handling knives and peelers just fine. Even the little one."

Daley cooed at being singled-out.

"It's Grandmother Heather's recipe." Lady Button seemed to be of the odd belief that that was explanation enough. Especially for someone as unsentimental as the Captain.

"So?" was the predictable response. "I don't even know the recipe."

"But it's tradition."

Lady Button leaned her head to the side.

The Captain's eyebrows furrowed, deep lines appeared on his forehead.

Lady Button cleared her throat.

The Captain crossed his arms over his chest.

Then they just stared at each other.

Pat was aware that he had completely stopped paying attention to the apples and was outright gawking at whatever was happening between the two.

"Fine." The Captain dropped his hands to his sides. Then he walked over and noisily knelt in front of the cabinet that held all the cooking pots and pans. He clattered around for a bit before he managed to lift out the largest of the pots and put it on the counter. "How much water?"

Lady Button smirked triumphantly and handed him a piece of paper. Seeing Lady Button smirk was even more unsettling than seeing the Captain do it.

The Captain placed the paper on the counter next to the pot and squinted down at it while he patted the pockets of his fleece jacket in search of something.

"She had terrible handwriting," he stated.

Lady Button, who was still standing close enough to hear, took visible offence to that. "Who are you to judge Grandmother Heather's handwriting?"

The Captain mumbled something into his moustache as he placed a pair of reading glasses on his nose. "Ah," he said. Then he shook his head and leaned down further. "No. Handwriting's still terrible."

The Captain had put himself in charge of the recipe and refused to leave his post at the cooker while everyone else sat at the table to peel and cut the fruit. He did not engage in any conversation. Instead he made sure that only the exact amount of fruit was added to the pot. And he was very strict about how exact. He watched carefully as Pat weighed the apples he had peeled and cut with an old-fashioned kitchen scale.

"That's twenty-two grams over the limit," he told Pat matter-of-factly and then made Pat cut one of the apple slices into ever smaller pieces until the numbers on the scale showed the correct amount. Pat did not even bother to argue that the tiny piece of apple would not ruin the dish. He shoved it into his mouth instead.

With the Captain's okay, he carefully dumped the rest of his fruit into the pot of simmering sugar water.

"Why does your child keep waving at me?" The Captain asked all of a sudden.

Pat looked over to Daley who was busy slurping apple peels into his mouth like spaghetti. That had been Robin's idea.

"Not right now," the Captain clarified. "But ... sometimes he waves ... at me."

"He likes you apparently," Pat said, turning and leaning against the counter next to the hob.

"Why?" The Captain studied the contents of the pot intently. "He doesn't know me."

"Maybe that's why he likes you." Humphrey had appeared out of nowhere with a bowl of freshly cut apples. The Captain turned to regard him over the top of the reading glasses he was still wearing.

"Only way to like you," Robin grumbled, moving up to dump his own share of fruit into the pot on the hob.

The Captain held out his hand to stop him. "No. We need to weigh them first."

They had a little tug-of-war with the bowl. "Stop it," the Captain hissed and finally managed to pull the fruit from Robin's grasp. Probably only because Lady Button had glanced over to them and Robin had let go to avoid getting into trouble.

Humphrey and Robin returned to the table, leaving the Captain to weigh the apples in peace. Pat wanted to get him talking again but he could not think of anything to say and the Captain did not make another attempt to engage him in a conversation.

They managed to fill all the canning jars with stewed fruit in the end and still had some leftovers for all of them to enjoy right away. Pat hummed appreciatively when he took the first bite. Now, his neighbour's stewed apples had been good but these were amazing. Grandma Heather knew her stuff.

Only when he was almost done with his portion, did Pat notice that the Captain was no longer in the kitchen.

"Where's the Captain?" he asked. Humphrey, who was sitting next to him, only shrugged. Nobody else seemed to have even heard the question.

Pat did see the Captain again that night. He was leading Daley upstairs for a late bedtime when the Captain appeared at the bottom of the staircase just as they were about to reach the landing on the first floor.

"Hi." Daley came to an abrupt stop on the second-to-last step to wave down at him. Pat almost ran Daley over.

The Captain, like always, turned to look behind him over his shoulder. Then he lifted his gaze up to them and raised his hand to wave back. He looked baffled as he did so.

Daley, delighted at this full-on engagement, hollered a cheerful "Good Night, Mister the Captain." Then he let Pat push him the final step onto the landing.

Pat would have liked to say something to the Captain as well but he felt like Daley was just on the brink of that kind of overtiredness that would lead to at least two hours of hyperactivity if he did not get the kid to bed within the next five minutes.

So they left the Captain to stare after them from the bottom of the staircase.

The next morning started out more hectic than a Sunday morning had any right to be. Since Pat started work at twelve and had to drive to Reading and back before then, he ideally would have gotten up at seven to make sure that he and Daley had a relaxed breakfast together before packing up Daley's stuff and hitting the road around nine at the latest.

But somehow, setting his alarm had slipped Pat's mind last night. It was already half past eight by the time Daley, usually a notoriously early riser, shook Pat awake. The lad must have been tuckered out after the zoo and staying up past his usual bedtime last night.

Pat stumbled out of bed, brain not entirely functioning yet, and immediately stubbed his big toe on the bedpost. "Buggering fuck," he hissed and hobbled to the bathroom. He quickly made sure that the door to Julian's bedroom was locked before he took a leak and changed into the shorts he had worn yesterday.

"We're just gonna have cereal, a'right?" he yelled over the sounds of his hand-washing. There would be no time for dippy eggs and soldiers today.

"Nooo." Daley's whine cut through to him. "I want eggs, Da."

"We haven't got time for eggs, mate." Pat speed-walked over to his dresser for some socks. "We'll get you some brekkie downstairs and bring it up here, a'right? I need to shower before we leave."

"But Daaa." Daley flopped onto the bed dramatically. "We always have eggs."

"Annow, mate." Pat sat down next to him to pull on his socks. He swore quietly when they didn't cooperate right away. "Come on, let's go." He patted Daley's leg and stood up.

"No," Daley huffed. "I want eggs."

"Daley, we haven't got time. We'll have eggs again next time, yeah?"

Daley did not respond and only pushed his face into the scrunched-up duvet. He did not get in a mood like this often but when he did, oh boy. Pat could feel his pulse rising.

"Let's go." He meant to grab Daley and lift him off the bed onto his feet. Sometimes that was enough to make the boy giggle and get him out of his funk.

Not today. Instead he kicked Pat's hands away. Hard.

Pat withdrew in shock.

"Stop that right now," he said sternly. It was rare that he had to use this voice. What was going on?

"No." Daley kicked the air for emphasis while his face was still buried in the valleys of the bed. "You're no fun."

"Excuse me?" Pat screeched. What part of yesterday had not been fun? The animals? The carousels? The way Daley had giggled at Robin and Humphrey's antics all evening?

"Fine." Pat walked towards the door and opened it. "I'm going to get some breakfast. For myself. Stay here and throw a tantrum if you want." He stepped into the corridor and closed the door firmly behind himself, cutting off Daley's whinging.

Pat stood there in the hallway for a minute or two to see if Daley would come running after him but by the sounds of it, he wasn't really doing much of anything. No sound came through the door. The lad might need a few minutes to be alone and calm down.

So Pat hurried through the silent house towards the kitchen. While his coffee brewed, he fixed a plain bowl of cornflakes and got the milk from the fridge to carry upstairs. This house was so big that the cereal would be soggy by the time he arrived back at his room, so he would take the whole carton with him. Then Pat took a moment to push up his glasses and rub his eyes.

These childish strops always hit him out of nowhere. Daley was usually so well-behaved and calm. Maybe he was just tired. Or as fond of routines as Pat himself was. Not having their traditional eggs and soldiers really was putting a dampener on their last couple of hours together. But there was nothing they could do. They would need to get going. Pat let his glasses fall back onto his nose and pushed them into position with his finger while he took a deep breath.

He heard a noise from the doorway. The Captain stepped into the kitchen.

"Oh." He blinked at Pat as if he had never seen a human being before. "Sorry. Thought the kitchen was empty."

"It's about to be." Pat manoeuvred the milk carton under his arm so that he could carry the cereal and his coffee with his hands.

"Would you ...," the Captain trailed off and looked down at the little bowl he was carrying in his hand. He lifted it up for Pat to see. "Would you like some raspberries? Freshly picked."

It took Pat a second to catch up. By then the Captain had withdrawn the bowl and shuffled around him to put the raspberries on the table.

"Sorry. Never mind," the Captain mumbled.

"No, I'm sorry," Pat hurried to stay. He should really get his mind online. "I bet Daley would love some raspberries with his cornflakes actually."

"Oh yes, of course." The Captain picked up the bowl again and made to push it into Pat's hands only to realise that they were already full with cornflakes and a mug of coffee.

"Oh, you meant all of them?" Pat put his load onto the table. "Just a handful will do probably."

The Captain frowned. Then he pushed the bowl closer to Pat. "They're yours." Then he strode out of the kitchen before Pat could protest further.

"Thank you," Pat called after him and then stared at the berries. This wasn't the first time that the Captain had shared crops from the vegetable garden with him. Ever since they had eaten dinner together when everyone else was ill, the Captain had pushed produce in Pat's direction at random points. Some carrots, a cucumber or two, lots of tomatoes. So many in fact that Pat in turn had shared them with the others so that they wouldn't go bad before he had a chance to eat them.

Pat stacked the bowl with the raspberries on top of the cornflakes and then carried everything upstairs. He had a bit of trouble opening the door to his room whit his hands as full as they were, so he was forced to gently kick the door with his foot. He could only pray that Lady Button would never find out.

"Daley, can you open the door, mate?"

Hopefully, the lad had calmed down enough to help him out.

"Daley."

The door opened and his son's little face peaked up at him. It was streaked with tears, his eyes wide and red.

"Da." It was more of a sob than a word.

"Alright, let me put all this down, yeah?" Pat opened the door further with his foot and hurried into the room, placing his load onto the dresser with a clatter.

"Come here." He walked back over to Daley, who was still hovering near the door, and pulled him into a rib-crushing hug. Not literally rib-crushing of course. That's probably child abuse. Leaving him alone for so long when Daley was clearly distressed probably was too.

Pat kissed Daley's little head as his son began sobbing into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, mate," he mumbled into his son's brown hair. "So sorry."

Daley whined and bumped his forehead against Pat's collarbone. "I-I-I ... I'm so-o-orry, D-d-da-a."

"Ssh. It's okay, Daley. It's okay." Pat rubbed his lad's back. "I know."

"I wa-anted eggss," Daley hiccupped.

"I know. Shh. But you understand why we can't have eggs this morning?"

Daley shook his head.

"I got you some cornflakes."

"No."

Pat sighed and glanced at his watch. A quarter to nine already. "Come on, lad." He tried to coax Daley's arms into relenting their tight grip around his neck. It only made their hug more choke-y. "There's some raspberries, too."

"No."

"Alright, I'll eat them all myself then." Pat drag-carried Daley over to his impromptu breakfast bar. He dislodged one of his arms to pick up a raspberry. "Mmmh, looks delicious." He popped it into his mouth. Daley still hid his face against Pat's chest.

"Oh no," Pat gasped. "I didn't check for worms." He made a choking noise. His grandmother had always told him to check his raspberries for worms and he had passed that wisdom onto his son from an early age.

Daley stayed quiet. Then he giggled once. Bingo.

So Pat upped his theatrical drama and fake-coughed. "I think I ate a worm. Eurgh."

Daley lifted his head up to look at him. He was finally smiling. Tentatively but a smile was definitely there.

"I'll have another raspberry to wash it down, I think." Pat lifted another raspberry to his mouth without examining it too closely.

"No, Da." Daley pulled on his hand to stop him. "You gotta check first."

"Oh, I forgot again." Pat held the fruit up close to Daley's face. "Here, you check."

Daley took a long look. He leaned ever closer and then he snatched the berry out of Pat's grasp and into his own mouth.

Pat grinned at him. They were back on track.

But still running late.

"Here." He presented the cornflakes and the rest of the raspberries. "Have some breakfast. I gotta shower real quick."

Pat left Daley on the bed. Milky cereal, raspberries and duvets probably didn't mix well but this was a dire situation, okay?

After a quick shower, Pat ordered Daley to pack up the things he wanted to take back to Carol's house. Daley came close to tears again when he couldn't find the stuffed giraffe he had gotten yesterday. It took them almost two minutes to find her in the depths of the duvet. They were really running late now. Pat could only hope that there would be no traffic.

"I want Nina to stay with you," Daley said.

"What?" Pat looked around. "Who's Nina?"

Daley held up the giraffe.

"Oh, is that her name?" Nina wasn't a very giraff-y name, was it?

"Yes," Daley confirmed. "She wants to stay here. With you." Why did they spent forever searching for her then? "But she also wants to drive to Mummy's house. But then you'll take her back okay?" Kid's logic was even beyond Pat's grasp sometimes.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you want, mate. Let's go."

Pat slung Daley's little backpack over his shoulder and hustled Daley and Nina out of the room.

They met Humphrey out in the corridor and they lost another two minutes while Daley went on and on about the cereal and raspberries he had eaten earlier. Apparently it had been the best breakfast of his entire life. Pat rolled his eyes.

Humphrey, not usually an advocate for punctuality, seemed to realise that Pat was getting a bit tetchy and swiftly came up with an excuse that explained why he suddenly had to turn around and walk in the opposite direction. Or maybe he did not want to hear about the culinary experiences of a five-year-old.

Pat and Daley (and Nina) finally found themselves outside. Daley waved at the Captain who was standing far away on the front lawn next to his sit-on lawnmower. The man stood there like the only soul on planet earth and he still checked the area for anyone else Daley might be addressing. Then he waved back.

When they reached the car, Pat searched his pockets for his keys, as you do, but came up empty. Except for the keys to Button House. He had used those to lock his room. That was a different key ring though. His car keys he kept separate because he did not need his car every day and with two key rings he had enough space for his extensive key chain collection.

"Fuck," he let out, patting his pockets again just in case he had missed the bulge that the key chains usually created. No luck. He groaned and grabbed Daley's hand. "We need to go back."

Daley stumbled after him. They crunched their way over the gravel back to the front door and into the house.

"Okay, listen, mate." Pat knelt down to be on Daley's eye level. "I'm gonna run upstairs real quick and grab my keys, alright? I'll be back in a minute. Stay. Right. Here. Do not move." If he let Daley come along, they'd probably lose another twenty minutes with breakfast reviews to anyone who was unfortunate to come across them.

"Do not move," Pat repeated.

Daley nodded seriously, hugging Nina to his chest.

Pat sprinted (i.e. walked quickly) upstairs. On the way, he pulled out his phone to let his ex-wife know that they were running a bit behind schedule. Not really looking where he was going, he almost crashed into Humphrey who accused him of attempted murder right away. Pat threw an apology over his shoulder but kept walking. He stumbled into his room with the momentum of his speed. Looks like he hadn't locked that door after all.

The detritus of Daley's breakfast was still covering most of the dresser. No keys there. On the bed? Probably not. They had shaken out the duvet to find the giraffe. They would have heard the jingle of a key ring.

Pat realised that he was getting a bit frantic in his search. Daley was waiting downstairs, unsupervised, probably already kidnapped, and that would make him even more late for the drop-off at Carol's house and the start of his work shift. And he wasn't sure whose ire he was more afraid to face. Carol's or Lady Button's.

Then he had a light bulb moment and he dove into the bathroom. Well, he tried to. He barrelled into the locked door. Shit.

"Julian, you in there?" He knocked on the door in case Julian hadn't heard the impact of Pat's entire body against it.

"Whaaaaaat?"

Pat was surprised Julian was up this early. "I need my car keys. They're in the pockets of my shorts." The ones he had worn all day yesterday and this morning before his shower.

"So?"

"I need to drop Daley off. I'm already late. Can you toss them out here? They are on my shelf. At the bottom."

"I'm tossing something else right now actually. And speaking of bottoms ..."

Pat choked on his breath. "Stop lying. I' don't hear the shower, mate."

"I'm giving it a bit of a dry run."

"Julian!"

Silence for a second or two. "Fine."

The door unlocked and opened a moment later. Julian was completely dressed in his suit and tie, as usual. Pat wondered if he actually slept in it. Julian's hair was going off in all directions.

Pat's shorts hit him square in the face. His car keys were definitely in there. They had almost given him a broken nose.

"You're welcome. Now leave me alone." The bathroom door closed.

"Gladly," Pat mumbled. It's not like he never indulged but he did not want to think too closely about the fact that somebody else was doing so in the same shower as him.

He pulled his keys from the pockets of his shorts and hurried back downstairs. His phone chimed as he clomped down the stairs. Carol's reply to his text was short but not sweet. But she had always mocked his carefully planned schedules and routines. So it wasn't a surprise really.

Pat reached the front entryway. Naturally, Daley was not where Pat had left him. Neither was Nina. The door to the outside was wide open.

"Daley!" Pat looked left and right to make sure that Daley wasn't trying to jump out at him or something. "Daley, we haven't got time for this, mate." But the boy was nowhere in sight. Pat stepped outside.

"Daley!"

Pat walked away from the front door, past the fountain.

"Daley! Stop playing around. I mean it!"

He wasn't panicking. What could have happened in the two minutes he was gone? Or had it been more like five minutes? Ten? How long did he spent arguing with stupid Julian?

"DALEY!"

"DALEY!"

Okay, he was panicking.

"DALEY!"

And that is when Pat spotted him. Standing next to the Captain's lawnmower. Close enough that he must have heard Pat yelling. The Captain himself was kneeling on the grass next to him.

"Daley!"

Pat marched over to them.

"Daley!"

Were they both deaf? They made no sign of having heard him. The Captain's head was halfway inside the lawnmower's engine, to be fair. And Daley, in his endless fascination, was probably ready to follow.

"Daley!"

Finally Daley turned. "Oh, hi Da."

"What on earth do you think you're doing?" Pat was out of breath by this point."I told you to wait by the door." He grabbed Daley's hand and began pulling him back the way he had come.

"But Da-"

"No. We need to hurry."

Daley squirmed in his grasp, then fell into step beside him more easily, despite Pat's determined stride. They were so late!

"Sorry, Da," Daley said meekly.

Pat sighed and came to a stop. What was another minute at this point? So he knelt down.

"I'm sorry too, mate. I was just worried, okay?"

Daley nodded and buried his face in his stuffy's fur. Pat pulled him into a hug.

"Do I need to carry you so you don't get lost again?"

Daley nodded against his chest. "Yeah."

"Alright." Pat straightened up, Daley now safely in his arms. "I might never let you go again, actually."

"Nooo, Da." Daley slung his arms around Pat's neck anyway.

"I love you, Daley."

Daley's hold tightened.

"Love you too, Da."

Chapter Text

Everyone had gathered in the ballroom. Most of them were sitting on the sofas in their lounge wear. It was Tuesday and their day off after all. The Captain and Lady Button, the only ones properly dressed, were standing in front of them as straight and formal as ever. Despite the Captain's cargo trousers and fleece jacket. That man could make pyjamas look ceremonial for the way he was always standing to attention.

The Captain had banged on their doors not long ago, calling an emergency meeting. Pat, in the middle of a nostalgic Top Gear marathon on his laptop, had rolled over his bag of crisps and off his bed with a grumble. Just because the Captain said it was an emergency, did not mean that it was an actual emergency. Maybe he had finally become fed up with the cigarette butts in the fountain. That was still an issue apparently.

"Listen up, troops." The Captain bounced up onto his toes once, hands behind his back. "As you may have heard, one of our own is missing in action. Gone MIA if you like."

Pat looked around. They were all here, weren't they? He exchanged a half-shrug with Thomas.

The Captain went on, "Dante was last seen by Fan-Lady Button in the drawing room around 1100 hours. Does anybody recall seeing him since?"

Oh, Pat had not even noticed the little guy's absence. But now that he knew, he admitted that it was strange to see both Lady Button and the Captain here without the dog snuffling around them.

"No," Kitty piped up cheerfully. "But I petted him yesterday."

The Captain visibly swallowed down his irritation. "That's not really the kind of information we are looking for but good for you, Katherine." The young woman smiled as if he had given her a compliment.

"Does anyone else have anything useful to report?" The Captain let his eyes roam over the gathered staff. "Any rooms that were entered today that are not highly frequented? Any doors that you noticed suddenly standing open? We have checked the basement but no luck."

Pat joined in with the general shrugging and shaking of heads. The Captain's strict demeanour left everyone quite unable to speak apparently.

"Right." The Captain's already straight spine straightened even further. "This is now a military campaign. We'll be working in groups." He unfolded his hands from behind his back to point at them with a long wooden stick that he had procured from nowhere. "Humphrey and Thomas take the West Wing and the attic. Robin, Julian and Mary, you take the East Wing and the basement. Maybe we missed something. Every crawl space must be searched, every corner investigated."

"Why are you sending Mary to the basement with us? She gets scared of everything," Julian complained. He had finally stopped wearing his one single suit a few weeks ago and was now always dressed in a tracksuit. A black Adidas one today. That fashion whiplash was not something one recovered from easily. Pat still didn't know what Julian's job here at Button House was. Or if he worked at all.

The Captain did what he usually did when dealing with Julian. Which was ignoring him. Only a twitch in the stiff shoulders indicated that he had heard the man at all.

"Lady Button and Katherine," the Captain continued instead, "you will drive down to the stable and check there."

Lady Button turned to him, looking ready to protest but Kitty's question of "Why would he go down to the stable?" cut off her objections before she had properly opened her mouth.

"To ... visit Montague and the others?" The Captain phrased his response as if the visitation between a dog and a horse was a normal concept to him.

"Oh yeah." Kitty smiled. "That makes sense." And to her it probably did.

"Patrick and I will search the grounds."

Oh. Wow. Well, Pat hadn't seen that coming. He glanced out of the window. This October had been making a perfect impression of November as of late. It was grey and cold and simply dreary. Probably rainy too. It was hard to tell with all that grey.

The Captain stepped over to one of the window sills to retrieve a large Asda tote bag. He carefully upended its contents onto the carpet between the sofas they were all sitting on. Rubber balls and bones and stuffed animals tumbled out, along with numerous little bags of dog treats.

"These are some of Dante's favourite toys," the Captain said. "Each group will take one, along with at least one of these." He held up a bag of dog treats. There were at least twenty of them.

"Where on earth did you get all these treats from?" Lady Button asked with big eyes.

"That's not important right now, Fanny," the Captain muttered, folding his tote bag into a neat little square. He appeared nervous. Maybe Pat was the only one who knew about the secret stash of dog treats in the Captain's bread box in the pantry.

The Captain retreated back to the window to retrieve yet another bag. He pulled out a walkie-talkie and held it up for everyone to see. "We will stay in contact on channel one. Keep everyone updated on your progress." He glanced at Kitty. "Important progress pertinent to the search, please. Any questions?" He barely waited for anyone to even register his words. "No? Good. Let's get moving, troops."

The Captain creakily knelt down to pick up three bags of dog treats and some well-worn dog toy that might have resembled a duck at some point. It squeaked obnoxiously when he stuffed it into the pocket of his fleece jacket, the treats going in the other. Then he purposefully strode out of the room.

"Come along, Patrick!" He called out from the main staircase.

Pat grabbed one of the walkie-talkies from the bag and followed him.

"Wait! Captain. Hang on, I need a minute." Pat only managed to catch up to him because the Captain had stopped his descend to the ground floor halfway down. He glowered up at Pat.

"What?"

"Can I get dressed first?" Pat asked, waving his hand to indicate his pyjama bottoms and the shabby hoody he was currently wearing.

The Captain did his best to set them on fire with his stern gaze. "Fine," he ground out, visibly pained. "You have two minutes. Dress warmly. It's cold." He paused and narrowed his eyes. "And rainy."

"Oh." Pat scrunched up his nose. He loved the great outdoors but rain was his arch nemesis.

"Do you ..." The Captain's facial expression had shifted into something more thoughtful. "Are you well-equipped? A good raincoat? Boots?"

Pat pushed his glassed up his nose. "Got a rain jacket, yeah. No wellies currently, my old ones gave out on me last year." Last Cub Scout outing of the year and his boots had literally fallen apart just as they had gotten back to the bus. "I'll try and find my winter boots."

The Captain stood up on his tippy toes to get a good look at Pat's slipper-covered feet. "What size shoes do you wear? I can lend you a pair."

Five minutes later and Pat, who was still unsure how it had all come to be, was following the Captain out of the front door into the misty world beyond. He was dressed in his trusty yellow rain jacket and a pair of the other man's wellies. The Captain had also wordlessly handed him a pair of black protective rain trousers. They were way too long for Pat's short legs but they would keep his bottom half dry nonetheless.

The Captain had accepted Pat's thanks with lowered eyebrows and a squeaky noise in his throat. He was dressed in a similar get-up as Pat, except that his coat was dark green and the trousers brown. Very camouflage of him.

"We will check the outer perimeters of the house first,” the Captain said as they stood near the fountain of eternal despair (at least in the Captain’s world). “Do a full walk-around. Check all the bushes and shrubs. Then the vegetable and rose garden. We will then make our way down to the stable. If we haven't found him by then, the others will have to join us out here. Then we'll-"

He suddenly stopped and spun towards the gate. On days when Button House was closed, the gate was kept shut. It had to be handled manually and they all had a key to unlock it. The gate was closed.

Pat felt he knew what the Captain was thinking. "Is there any way he could have left the property?"

The Captain kept staring at the closed gate. "Unlikely. This part of the estate is completely fenced in. Unless I've missed a hole during my checks." It was disconcerting to see so many emotions flicker across the Captain's face. He took a deep breath. And within a second he was back to his stoic old self.

"Right.” The Captain turned to face Pat. “Patrick, you are going to start the perimeter check around the house. Call out to him." He stuffed his hands into his pockets and pulled out the duck toy thing and a bag of treats. "Check all the doors. There are surprisingly many. Maybe he is waiting to be let back in. Do the round twice." He shoved the items he was holding in Pat's general direction.

"Okay?" Pat accepted Dante's belongings and clutched them to his chest. "And where are you going?"

The Captain nodded towards the quad bike parked in the corner of the driveway. "I'm going down to the main street. To check if..." He trailed off and lowered his gaze to the ground.

Pat did not need him to finish that sentence. "Alright, mate."

He quickly walked towards the gate to open it so the Captain could get through. They made eye contact when the Captain passed him on his quad bike and nodded towards each other in sudden camaraderie. Pat watched him for a second as he drove down the long path down to the main street before he closed the gate again and began his own search.

Just like the Captain had said, there were surprisingly many doors leading into the house. Pat had no idea where in the building most of them led. They were all locked. That made him feel a bit better about the security issue this amount of doors entailed. If someone decided to burgle this house at night, it was possible none of them would even notice. All squeezed into the back part of the West Wing as they were.

He occasionally called out to Dante, squeezing the toy and rattling the dog treats in their bag to bait him out of hiding. Most of the bushes and shrubs had started to shed their foliage in the mid October weather but there were still many places to hide in, so he found himself kneeling on the wet pathways and soggy grass to peer into the shrubbery.

Nothing.

He was just about finished with his second round when his walkie-talkie let out a short ringtone before Mary's voice filled the silence. "No dog be in the kitchen or the café."

Pat waited a few seconds for the Captain to respond. He felt that was something the man would do. As commanding officer or whatever he thought of himself. When no call came, he decided to do it himself. Keep up morale and all that. "Thank you, Mary. Keep up the good work everyone!"

He was just making his way through the residents' car park when he heard the Captain's quad bike roar back up the drive. Pat jogged to the gate to let him in, then followed to where he came to a stop a few metres away.

The Captain shut the engine off and silence fell once more.

"Mary called to tell us that the kitchen and café are clear,” Pat told him. The Captain may not have heard if he had been driving. “Anything on your end?"

"Nothing." The Captain disembarked from his quad bike. He did not do it in any sort of elegant way, more like he wasn’t aware that the human body also contained joints and bendy parts and not just stiff bones. "Went a mile up and down the street in each direction and stopped to call out for him. Didn't see or hear anything." He looked Pat up and down, saw no dog and apparently came to a conclusion, so he did not even bother asking if Pat had had any luck. "Let's keep moving. The gardens are next. Vegetable garden first.” He took a deep breath. “Dante!"

The Captain kept calling out as they walked. A light drizzle started falling soon after. Occasionally, one of the other groups would check in over the walkie-talkies as they moved from room to room. Robin and Julian were frequently informing them how unsettling the basement was.

Pat was startled to hear the Captain chuckle quietly in between calls for Dante. "I bet they wouldn't even go down there if they knew that construction workers found a plague pit down there a few years ago."

"What? Really?"

"Oh yes. There were at least fifteen bodies down there. It took them months to dig them all up and cart them off to some museum."

Pat wasn't sure what shocked him more. The fact that Button House had housed over a dozen dead bodies or that the Captain was making casual conversation with him about it.

"Wow. That is a bit weird to think about." Pat did not know what else to say.

The Captain made one of his noises that could mean anything from agreement to ‘I'm quietly choking to death’. Then he pulled out the walkie-talkie to inform everyone that they had had no luck in the gardens.

"Fanny, are you still at the stable? Over."

The response took a good ten seconds. "Yes, but we are just about finished."

Then Kitty's voice. "I gave Montague some hay, Captain. He told me he was hungry."

The Captain's face morphed into an interesting expression of simultaneous exasperation and amusement. He took his sweet time to respond as he fumbled with the walkie-talkie for a second. "Well done, Katherine. Thank you." After a deep breath he continued, "Patrick and I are going to make our way towards the stable on foot. Over."

"We could walk towards you and meet halfway." That was Lady Button again.

"No, thank you, Fanny. The rain is picking up and the grass will be getting quite treacherous to walk on. Feel free to return to the house for now. Over."

"Okay, Captain. Be careful."

The Captain looked at his walkie-talkie in puzzlement as if he was not sure it had transmitted the message correctly. Then he glanced at Pat before responding. "Yes. Over and out."

The rain was indeed picking up. Long watery streaks began drumming against their rain coats.

"Maybe we should take a break as well." Pat knew his suggestion would be met with rebuttal before he had finished speaking.

"Nonsense. We will not let Dante down." The Captain paused and glanced towards the sky, pinching his eyes together to protect them from the heavy raindrops. “Unless you need a break. I will carry on by myself.”

The Captain strode purposefully forward, turning his head left and right, occasionally calling out Dante's name. It was uncertain how far his voice would carry in this kind of rain but the man seemed undeterred.

Pat pulled his hood further down his face, his glasses already collecting the rain water, and waddled after him. “Wait for me, Cap.”

The other man was either outright ignoring Pat now or had not heard him. He simply marched onwards. It took Pat some effort to catch up with him. The rain was turning into a proper downpour and it was getting a bit hard to see.

Pat had never walked all the way down to the stable before, only ever seeing the structure in the distance on one of his walks or when out exploring with Daley. It turned out to be further from Button House than he had originally thought. Or maybe the drenching rain was making him misjudge time and space.

"DANTE!"

The Captain was still at it although he had slowed his pace considerably. They were now walking, trudging down a gentle slope.

"Be careful, Patrick. The grass often gets quite slippery around here." The Captain could barely be heard over the rain. He cleared his throat twice. He was probably yelling himself hoarse.

They walked for another few metres when Pat's foot went out from under him. He squeaked, not unlike Dante's duck toy he would admit later, as he flailed his arms to catch himself.

A strong grip on his upper arm and then another on his hip caught him seemingly mid air. It took him a second to realise that the Captain had just saved him from probably rolling down a muddy hill and landing in an unattractive heap at the bottom.

"Are you okay?" The Captain's expression was hard to make out through Pat's rain-streaked glasses but he might have actually been concerned. That's what he sounded like anyway. The hands on Pat's elbow and hip disappeared and Pat was almost certain to have heard a mumbled "Sorry".

"Thank you, Captain." Pat raised his voice slightly to make sure he was heard over the thundering rain.

"Yes, of course."

They slowed their pace. The Captain would still call out to Dante now and then but the frequency of his calls had decreased. Maybe he was trying to save his voice. Or maybe he was losing hope that Dante was anywhere near them.

The slope they had been slipping down, evened out and they reached one of the paddocks that surrounded the stable. They trudged along the fence towards the structure. The Captain reached into his jacket pocket to retrieve his key ring and unlocked a side door into the building. The smell of hay and horse intensified as they stepped inside. The temperature in the stable was only slightly warmer than outside. Pat relished the sudden quiet once the door had closed behind them and used the dry conditions to quickly clean his glasses with his jumper.

The rain could still be heard drumming against the roof but other than that the stable was almost silent. Until Pat followed the Captain around a corner and they arrived in the main area. There was shuffling and breathing and whinnying. Some of the horses poked their head out of their boxes as the two men walked past. The Captain quietly greeted each one with a gentle stroke of the nose and muzzle and some murmured words too quiet for Pat to hear. When they reached the last set of boxes the Captain turned to face the room. He whistled, then turned his head as if listening for something. Only when he called out "Dante, are you here, old boy?" did Pat realise what he was doing.

No response came, no dog darted into view. The Captain turned to the horse that was closest to him. A beautiful brown one with white streaks in its mane. "Hello Monty," the Captain murmured, stroking the animal's neck. Monty bumped his muzzle against the Captain's head. "Has Dante been around, the silly goose?" The horse whinnied in response. "Yeah, didn't think so." The Captain sounded dejected as he stared forlornly into the distance for a second.

He pulled his walkie-talkie off his belt and cleared his throat. "Button House, come in, please. Over."

"Captain." Lady Button's voice crackled in. "Where on earth are you? Hopefully not out in that rain."

"At the stable. No luck unfortunately. Any updates on your front? Over."

"Nothing." The heartbreak was easily transmitted. "We have finished the search of the house."

"We'll keep looking!" Humphrey was surprisingly enthusiastic.

"We'll find him!" Kitty was too. But then, she always was.

"Alright. Stand by for a minute. Over."

The Captain focused his gaze on Pat and frowned. He fiddled with his walkie-talkie as he kept staring at Pat in consternation.

Pat glanced down at himself to see if there was something worth staring at. Maybe he had gotten himself muddier than he had thought? Maybe the Captain thought that slipping up after being warned about the wet grass was reason enough to be hated. But no, his jacket and trousers were very wet but otherwise still quite clean.

Just as he was getting ready to be offended, he realised that the Captain was not actually staring at him but completely zoning out. His empty gaze did not react to the movement of Pat's waving hand at all.

After a few disconcerting seconds, the Captain came back to himself with a shudder and he refocused, glancing down at the walkie-talkie in his hand for a second then landing back on Pat.

"I can get one of the others to pick you up."

What?

"What?" Because Pat couldn't be trusted on wet grass? Because he wasn't yelling himself hoarse calling for the dog?

The Captain blinked. "To drive you back to the house and change. Warm up. Get ready for your pizza night."

Pat felt his nose scrunch up in confusion. "And what are you going to do?"

The Captain glanced at the walkie-talkie again and shrugged. "I am going to check the woods, at least the ones on the way back to the house." He paused. "And then I'll go down to the street again."

"I'll come with you," Pat told him, mentally preparing himself for the conditions outside. He was so glad the Captain had lent him the rain gear.

"What?" The Captain squinted at him in obvious confusion.

"Of course, I will. We're a team."

The Captain frowned. "You don't have to do that. Everyone else is waiting up at the house."

"Then they'll be waiting for both of us. Why should you be the only one out there?"

The Captain shrugged. "They won't miss me."

Okay, lots to unpack there. Not right now though. Pat could feel the cold creeping up on him now that they weren't in motion.

"Shall we get going before we get too comfortable?" He nodded towards the door they had entered through.

"Okay." The Captain still seemed a bit befuddled. He finally lifted the walkie-talkie up and pressed the button to speak. "Patrick and I will be making our way back to the house now. We are checking the woods on the way. Over."

Humphrey was the one who answered. "You sure? I can come pick you up. It's raining cats and dogs out there."

The Captain made short eye contact with Pat who shook his head to his silent question.

"Since none of those dogs seems to be Dante, we'll walk back and patrol the area some more. Thank you though, Humphrey. Over and out."

Some calls of "Good luck!" rang out as Pat and the Captain made their way back to the door. They braced themselves before Pat pushed the door open and they stepped outside. The rain definitely had not let up. In fact, it fell even heavier than before but maybe Pat had simply gotten used to the quiet in the stable. The Captain locked the door. And then they huddled under the roof overhang of the stable for a moment to stare out into the grey, wet world.

"Let's turn and burn," Pat said. It did nothing for his motivation.

"What?" The Captain turned to him. He still had not let go of his expression of puzzlement that he had been sporting for a good few minutes now.

"That's Top Gun, mate."

"Okay?" The Captain leaned his head to one side. "What's Top Gun?"

"You've never heard of Top Gun?" Pat had suspected that the Captain was actually an alien from a different planet for a while now but that had just confirmed it. Who didn't know Top Gun?

So Pat educated him on the best film ever made as they walked back the way they had come. The Captain remained silent beside him but when Pat glanced up to peer at him through his rain-streaked glasses, he appeared interested, nodding along and humming at compelling plot points.

And then he asked a question so specific that Pat did not even understand the question. Something to do with one of the fighter jets in the film.

"Mmh, I'll have to look that up then," the Captain mumbled, squinting into the distance. He looked very much like a wet cat right now. He had pulled up his hood way too late and the bit of greying hair that was still visible was darker than usual and plastered to his forehead.

Pat imagined he looked much the same. Plus the glasses that weren't really up to performance standards right now. He took them off just for something to do. There was nothing in his pockets to wipe them with and Pat was reluctant to unzip his jacket to get to his jumper underneath. So the glasses returned to their usual perch on his nose.

Pat was surprised when the Captain stepped a little closer, their arms almost touching.

"Sometimes Dante and I walk through those woods over there." The man pointed to the tree line on their left. "We like to listen to the birds and look for squirrels." Pat watched, over the rim of his glasses, as a seldom smile graced the man's face. "We saw some hedgehogs last week. They are getting ready for hibernation, so they are filling up on insects and snails and they are building their nests. Dante and I built some leaf piles to help."

And then, as they ambled towards the trees the Captain had pointed out, he went on a tangent about what hedgehogs get up to during the winter which turned into a tangent about robotic lawn mowers and how they are literal hedgehog killers and should be forbidden. Pat noticed how his voice sounded raspier than it usually did.

The Captain came to a sudden stop and Pat turned to see him scowling again.

"Apologies. Sometimes I talk too much."

Pat had never thought that would be a sentence coming out of the Captain's mouth. After all, that man had not said a single word during Pat's entire job interview and barely spoken fifteen words to him after Pat had moved in.

"Oh, it's fine mate," Pat reassured him. "All that information might come in useful one day with my Cub Scouts." His group would not officially start until the coming spring but Pat was planning on visiting some local schools and do a little demonstration on knot tying to get kids interested and hopefully signed up.

The Captain hummed thoughtfully but stayed quiet afterwards.

They had reached the tree line of the woodland. They were somewhat sheltered underneath the trees but some of the foliage had already descended to the ground, creating a soggy brown blanket they took care to step across. It was easy to trip over hidden branches and into concealed foxholes.

The Captain came to a stop now and again and whistled. They both strained their ears to listen for anything but the rain hammering down. It looked like he had given up on calling out for Dante.

They trudged along, every step taking them closer to a pensive and mournful atmosphere.

The Captain whistled again without even stopping this time and that almost led to Pat not hearing the slight whimper. Almost.

He stopped, grabbing the Captain's arm. "Did you hear that?"

The other man cocked his head to the side. "No."

"Whistle again."

He did.

And there was definitely something answering.

"Did you not hear? There's something here."

"No. I didn't hear anything." The Captain whistled again. And whatever it was responded. Again, the Captain showed no reaction but he started shouting again. "Dante!"

Pat did his best to locate the responding noise but the raindrops were too loud. He stepped away a few metres and motioned to the Captain who whistled again. He waved him over when he realised that the whine was a bit louder now.

Another whistle, another whimper. And the Captain began to look exasperated.

"Are you sure you are actually hearing anything, Patrick?" That was a bit too much of the everyday Captain for Pat's liking.

"Yes, I'm sure. Let's keep moving this way." He pulled the Captain along a few more steps.

"Dante?" The Captain's voice had definitely taken a beating. His shouts were nowhere near as powerful as they had been earlier that day.

Finally the Captain showed a response when a whine reached their ears. He was off immediately, now being the one who pulled Pat along.

"Dante! Where are you, old boy?" A pitiful bark followed and they changed direction slightly when Pat realised that the noise was coming from somewhere on their right.

"Dante!" Another bark. It seemed to come from a soggy pile of leaves.

"Leaves don't bark, do they?" Pat nodded towards the foliage when the Captain turned to him in bewilderment.

"No, they don't," he eventually agreed when he had put context to the odd statement. The sound of his voice made the leaves shake, then another whine.

The Captain approached the pile and knelt down, his joints cracking audibly.

"Dante?" His voice was almost a whisper now. "Are you in there?" He placed one hand on the wet ground and slowly reached towards the leaves with the other. "Come on, you old goat. I have some treats."

The Captain knelt back to retrieve one of the bags of dog treats from the pocket in his rain coat. Pat was still carrying the beaten dog toy in his own pocket. But treats would probably be more effective.

The Captain rustled the brightly coloured bag more than was really necessary while opening it. He pulled out a long brown stick and held it out towards the pile of leaves. "Come on," he encouraged gently.

Pat watched in fascination as a small black nose emerged from the foliage. The Captain held the stick closer and the nose sniffed it. Then a muzzle emerged and grabbed the treat before disappearing back into the leaves.

Pat deflated a little.

The Captain meanwhile, patiently pulled out another treat. There was no trace of the stern and impatient demeanour that was his usual get-up. Pat felt he was watching a completely different man from the one that usually haunted the grounds of Button House and deterred any of them from having a good time whenever he was around.

"Come on, Dante," the man in question murmured. "Fanny's waiting for you. She is quite upset, you know. I'll get her to light a fire for you, lay out your favourite blanket in front of it. And I'll try and sneak you more treats without her noticing."

Pat blinked.

Who even was this man?

Suddenly the leaves rustled again and Dante's head popped out. He made for a sorry sight. His fur was soaked, his ears hanging limply. The rest of him emerged as he trotted the few Dante-sized steps over to the man kneeling on the forest floor.

"There you are, silly sausage." The Captain smiled down at the little animal, offering the treat. Dante tilted his head to the side and returned his gaze. Then the two of them had a bit of a moment as they stared at each other.

The Captain placed the treat on the ground and Dante lowered his head to gnaw on it. Slowly, very slowly, the Captain wrapped both of his hands around the poor thing and picked him up, pulling him to his chest immediately. Then he rocked back on his heels before returning to a standing position. The crunch of his knees was politely ignored.

Dante did not appear to mind the handling. In fact, he seemed to snuggle a little closer.

"What were you doing out here?" The Captain stared at the dog as if waiting for an actual response. When none came, he grumbled something Pat couldn't hear and then he unzipped his rain jacket and the green fleece jacket underneath to reveal a white t-shirt. There was a bit of whining from the dog now as he was doghandled to fit inside before the Captain closed up his outer layer again. Only Dante's head was now poking out just beneath the Captain's chin.

"Right," the man said as he patted the wiggling bulge in his jacket. He pulled out his walkie-talkie.

"Fanny, come in, please?"

It took a good ten seconds before a response came in. "Yes, Captain?"

"We got him. Over."

Pat met the Captain's questioning gaze when a long silence followed and shrugged. He couldn't quite imagine that Lady Button was the type of person to be jumping around with joy.

Finally the walkie-talkie crackled out a response. "Is he alright?"

The Captain waited a moment before answering. "Yes. A bit wet but he appears uninjured. Over."

Again, it took a few seconds for Lady Button to respond. "Oh, thank goodness." Pat thought she might be crying.

The Captain, meanwhile, seemed uncertain about what else to say and absently patted Dante through his jacket as he looked down at his walkie-talkie.

Pat motioned behind him. "Shall we get going? We won't be getting any drier out here." Just on cue, the rain picked up and the noise level around them rose significantly.

The Captain nodded. Together they turned back the way they had come. But they stopped again when the walkie-talkie came to life once more.

"Where are you lot? Still close to the stable? I'll come get you." It was hard to hear Humphrey over the rain and whatever was going on in the background. Probably a celebration but the screaming sounded more like a bloody massacre was taking place.

Pat looked to the Captain for guidance as he had no idea how close to the house they actually were.

But the other man had a pinched expression on his face. "Couldn't understand a word of that," he mumbled.

"Humphrey asked if he should go and pick us up from the stable."

"Oh." The Captain shuffled his feet a bit, then raised the walkie-talkie to his mouth. "We are about halfway to the house, so we'll walk and meet you all up there. Thank you, Humphrey. Over."

"Okay. Don't get washed away, you three." A short pause. "Is Pat even still with you?"

The Captain frowned as he glanced at Pat. "Of course he is. Why wouldn't he be? Over."

"Just haven't heard from him." Humphrey must have moved to a quieter area or maybe the others had calmed down a bit. It was a lot easier to hear him now despite the heavy rain. "Thought you might have killed him."

The Captain froze on the spot. His eyebrows and moustache pulled into a familiar scowl. He made no move to answer, so Pat decided to take initiative. He pulled out his own walkie-talkie.

"Still alive, Humphrey."

"Oh thank God. I was worried."

"No need, mate. All good on our end. We'll see you in a bit."

"Alright, see you soon!"

Pat met the Captain's gaze and tried to give him a reassuring smile. The other man glanced away after a few seconds and started walking again. Pat rushed after him.

Once they had cleared the tree line and stepped out onto the grassy lawn, they realised how heavy it was raining now. It was a literal downpour. Dante whined a little and tried to duck further into the Captain's coat.

The two men made their way up the slope slowly. One would think that going up the hill would be easier than coming down but the constant rain had turned the whole thing into a bit of a slippery slide. They did not talk, too focused on where their feet went. At least in Pat's case. The Captain just looked sullen.

He lurched forward when his leg gave out from under him. Pat was close enough to grab him by the shoulder and pull him upright again before the dog got crushed underneath him.

They stared at each other for a second. Then the Captain cleared his throat and let his eyes wander to the left. "Thank you, Patrick."

Pat patted the other man's upper arm reassuringly and smiled at him. "No worries, mate."

The Captain's next steps were more careful than before but he soon found his rhythm again.

They trudged on. The hill was by no means a steep one but Pat was getting a bit winded, despite their slow pace. And since that wasn't enough, he realised that his rain coat was reaching its breaking point as he felt wet patches growing on the sleeves of his shirt and on his back. Shivers began to set in. Because he was becoming ever more miserable, the distance back to the house magically increased as well.

How long had they been out here? It was hard to tell time with the dark grey sky hanging above them. Pat wasn't inclined to fight his rain gear to get to his watch or his phone. He wasn't inclined to move at all anymore. The Captain was walking a few paces ahead of him now.

They finally cleared the hill and Button House came into full view. Pat was so happy to see it that he came to a stop. The Captain didn't and walked a few more metres before he looked over his shoulder. His step faltered and he turned around properly. His scowl lifted a bit and he quickly retraced his steps to stop right in front of Pat and peer down at him with wide blue eyes. His moustache twitched.

"Are you alright?"

Pat blinked up at him and nodded.

The Captain, despite his wet hair and face and the soggy dog hanging off him, appeared far less affected by the conditions around him. But his job required him to spend most of his time outside so he was probably used to it. And he had been in the army. And maybe his rain coat was of higher quality. The Captain's wellies and rain trousers he had lent Pat were still performing well.

"Come on." The Captain nodded back to the house. "Almost there."

'Almost there' was still a few very miserable minutes as they wound their way through the gardens, past flowerbeds, statues and hedges. They walked around the back of the house and through the residents' car park to the front door of Button House where Lady Button was already waiting in the doorway, the others crowded around her.

The Captain came to a stop a few metres away from her and unzipped his jacket. He pulled Dante out and carefully set him down on the gravelled driveway. The poor thing looked devastatingly confused about why he was out in the rain again and stared up at the Captain in silent accusation. When Lady Button called his name though, his ears perked up and he turned around to speed towards her.

The Captain and Pat were left in his wake. They heard the cheers as the others moved into the drawing room, leaving the door open.

Dante was wrapped in a fluffy towel by the time they had made it inside. They peeled off their soaked gear in the front entryway. The Captain dumped his rain jacket on the door mat and Pat followed suit. It wouldn't do to upset Lady Button by getting the foyer muddy. Their wellies and rain trousers joined the coats.

Pat waited for the Captain to finish fussing and frowning at his no-longer-white shirt. He hid it from view by zipping his fleece jacket all the way up. They entered the drawing room together. A cosy fire was roaring in the hearth and there was evidence of quite a few cups of tea having been consumed in the last hours. Tea mugs in all states of emptiness littered the surfaces of the room. There was also a very fancy tea set with two dainty tea cups and an alarming amount of biscuits set on one of the side tables.

"Here you go." Pat blinked at the towel that Kitty had just handed him. Oh yes, he was probably still dripping everywhere. He heard the Captain's quiet "Thank you" after being handed a towel as well.

Once they were as dry as they were going to be for now, Lady Button pulled the Captain over to one of the sofas and pushed him into the cushions, daring Pat to not follow with raised eyebrows.

Dante was now sitting in his little dog bed that was always set up in front of the fireplace. Pat knew that animals couldn't really smile but Dante looked as close to smiling as was probably possible.

Both men were handed a dainty tea cup with steaming liquid by Lady Button who then proceeded to make her herself at home on the sofa opposite them. The other residents of Button House crowded around them as if something interesting was about to take place.

Well, Pat admitted, the search for Dante had been the most irregular thing to happen at Button House in the last few weeks, so he guessed it was fair they were hoping for an exciting story. He glanced at the man next to him.

The Captain had stopped in his tracks with his cup of tea halfway raised to his mouth and now stared at the others in obvious confusion. He never spend any time with them, so he could not know how desperate they all were for a good retelling of the events.

"Tell us what happened!" Kitty was bouncing up and down in anticipation.

Pat mentally cracked his knuckles as he prepared himself for a bit of story-telling. His Cub Scouts loved his stories, especially the ghost ones.

" Well, this is actually a true story actually."

The Captain turned to interrupt him immediately."Of course it is, Patrick. What are you doing?" He sounded exasperated.

"Telling a story, mate. We need to create an atmosphere."

The Captain appeared unconvinced but did not argue. He turned his full attention to his tea.

"Let's start again." Pat cleared his throat. "This is actually a true story actually. The rain had not yet started when we first stepped outside but the dark heavy clouds in the sky would be keeping their promise of a devastating downpou-"

"Patrick, what on god's green earth do yo-" The Captain was quickly hushed by several members of the household. He looked down meekly, then grabbed the plate of biscuits from the tea tray and stuffed two into his mouth.

As he crunched away, Pat continued with his narrative. He added flourishing touches when he noticed how captivated his audience had become after only a few sentences. The wind blew stronger, the trek down to the stable became more perilous. He even added some embellishment to his almost dive into the mud and the Captain's heroic save which earned the man a hushed "Oh, thank goodness for the Captain" from Kitty. She looked close to tears at this point. The man in question looked up from his rapidly dwindling pile of biscuits to narrow his eyes at her.

"After what felt like a year of nothing but rain and mud, we finally reached the stable. The door opened with an ominous creak and we step-"

"Tha' do doef no' cweak," the Captain spoke up around another set of biscuits.

Lady Button stood up from the sofa in shock. "What on earth happened to your manners? One does not speak with their mouth full. You better watch it, young man."

The Captain stared at his lap where the biscuit plate was resting. "Yes, ma'am."

Pat looked at the others to confirm that this interaction had actually just taken place. They too blinked in bewilderment.

"Anyway," Pat eventually declared into the silence. "We stepped inside and sighed in relief as we were now out of the rain."

The story continued and Pat built up to the dramatic finale.

Kitty eventually burst the tension when story-Pat and story-Captain had just come upon the barking pile of leaves. "I cannot take it anymore. Where did you find him?"

Pat stared at her for a few seconds to assess whether she was just humouring him. But her question seemed genuine.

The Captain answered for him, speaking quite slowly. "Under the leaves, Katherine. He was hiding in the leaves. Leaves do not bark, do they?"

"Oh yeah." Kitty said this as if actually just remembering that fact. She was precious like that sometimes.

"Where did he get the idea to do that?" Lady Button stared at the Captain who cleared his throat and looked a bit sheepish.

"Maybe from the hedgehogs," he mumbled. "Wouldn't have found him if it hadn't been for Patrick." His eyes widened a bit after he said that and he ducked his head.

There might have been a gasp or two as Pat saw everyone's surprised faces turn to him. It's probably not that they'd had that little faith in him making any kind of contribution to the cause. They were just surprised that the Captain was so freely giving him credit. Pat was a bit surprised himself.

He shrugged and turned to the Captain. "Oh, give over, mate. He wouldn't have made a single sound if you hadn't whistled and yelled for him."

The Captain remained clearly unconvinced, pushing the remaining biscuits around on their plate with the one he was holding in his hand. "I never would have found him. My hearing's not great."

"That's why we make a great team," Pat told him. "Teamwork makes the team work."

The Captain frowned and looked up at him. "That is not how the saying goes."

"Yeah, probably not." Pat could not remember how the saying actually went. He slapped his knees to get on with the story. "Anyway, the Captain managed to bait Dante out into the open and ..."

He brought the narrative to a close with a flourish, completely omitting the Captain's own almost-stumble on the muddy grass.

"Well, you two are my personal heroes today," Lady Button declared as she stood up from the sofa. Dante, who had been snoozing in his little bed until now, trotted over to her. "I will be getting ready for Pizza Night." Lady Button floated out of the room, her beloved pet following her faithfully.

The others broke into a bit of a frenzy.

"I hads not made the doughs!"

"I forgot to put the beer in the fridge!"

"Who will help me cut up the toppings?"

"Whose turn was it to get the cheese this week?"

They started arguing as they moved out of the room in a throng, presumably to start preparations in the kitchen immediately.

That left Pat and the Captain as the only two remaining occupants of the room.

"Right." The Captain stood up and placed his tea cup and the now empty plate back on the tray. He stepped around the sofa as if to leave.

"Wait, Captain." Pat rose from the sofa as well."Will you join us for Pizza Night?"

The other man frowned immediately. "No, thank you, Patrick." He turned to leave again.

"Why not? You must be hungry."

Pat watched the Captain close his eyes for a second. "I don't think the others would appreciate it if I attended."

"What? Of course they would." Well, Pat wasn't entirely sure how they would react but he thought it unlikely that they would chase the Captain away with pitchforks.

The Captain opened his mouth, probably to protest but Pat went on, "They've asked you to join before, haven't they?"

The Captain swallowed visibly but did not attempt to say anything.

"I think they'd like it if you joined us. I would be thrilled if you did. You don't have to stay long, you don't even have to help with the preparations. I can let you know when the pizzas are done."

The Captain frowned down at his feet, then he shrugged. "Maybe." Then he finally left the room.

Pat let him go.

The man he had seen today was so different from the stern, angry figure that usually roamed the house and grounds. The search for Dante had shown a deeply caring and compassionate side of the Captain that Pat had never expected to lurk under the facade.

Pat knew he would probably see the Captain again tomorrow. He wondered, as he slowly trudged upstairs to his room and a warm shower, if he would ever get to witness that other side of the man again too.

Button House on Pizza Night was rarely a quiet affair but with the search for Dante taking up most of everyone's afternoon and mind, the preparations had gotten a bit out of hand very quickly once they had stumbled into the kitchen all at once.

While Mary and Robin had thrown together the dough, Humphrey had coordinated the rest of them, apart from Julian, who took it upon himself to cool down their drinks as quickly as possible, to start cutting up all the vegetables. The piles of chopped bell peppers, onions and tomatoes grew quickly and were joined by freshly washed basil and rocket salad.

"The doughs be rising now," Mary declared just as Pat entered the kitchen, wearing tartan pyjama bottoms and a Huddersfield football jersey. His hair was still wet but not dripping anymore and he was a bit pink in the face, probably from a warm shower.

"Hey, it our hero," Robin cheered when he spotted Pat. The others contributed their own ovations as Julian pushed a can of beer into the man's hand.

"Toast!" Robin yelled.

"What do we need toast for?" Thomas whined in confusion. "It's Pizza Night."

"No. Toast for Pat!" Robin raised his drink. "Speech!"

That visibly cheered Thomas up and before anyone could object, he had stood up from his chair. "We are gathered here tonight..." Everyone used his dramatic pause to groan. "... to celebrate a brave young soul -"

"I'm thirty-nine, mate," Pat mumbled and Humphrey snorted, wrapping a consolidating arm around Pat's shoulders.

Thomas continued undeterred. "A brave young soul who did not fear to face mother nature's destructive...well, nature and retrieve one of our beloved friends from her clutches. What you did today, Pat, was very ...," another dramatic pause followed, "nice."

"Nice?" Humphrey asked. "That's all you could come up with?"

"It's art, you wazzock," Thomas bit back.

Humphrey decided not to argue further and held up his can of beer instead. "To Pat!"

"To Pat!" Cheers filled the kitchen.

Lady Button decided to show up in that moment, Dante in tow. Despite her earlier declaration to prepare for Pizza Night, she physically did not appear any different. Humphrey suspected that her preparations were more of the mental kind. Which was fair, dealing with Robin and Julian always required a certain level of forethought.

They gathered around the table while they waited for the dough to rise. Mary had Robin and Julian help her arrange the pizza sauce by making them open one can of pureed tomatoes after the other and pour it all into a giant bowl. Dante darted around their legs, sniffing everyone's feet in great detail. Maybe he had missed them all.

"Please, please, please tell us again how you rescued Dante." Kitty's pleas were joined by some more cheers. It sounded very much like they were gathered at a pub during a Champions League game.

Pat laughed and tried to wave them off at first but soon realised that they would not leave him alone otherwise. "Alright, alright. Here we go." His face suddenly became serious. "This is actually a true story actually."

Since there was no one to contradict Pat in his obvious embellishments, the second retelling of the story was even more dramatic than the first one had been. Humphrey was waiting for a dragon to show up or something. Pat was just getting to the part where the heroes were entering the stable when Humphrey looked up to see a figure hovering just outside the door in the hallway.

He knew who it was even though the person was keeping mostly to the shadows. It could not be anyone else. Because they were all already in the room. What was he doing here?

"You can come in if you want," he called out. It was a free country after all and the Captain was allowed to use the kitchen just like everyone else. "We don't bite."

"I do." That was Robin of course.

The Captain slowly crossed the threshold as if taking Robin's words to heart. It was odd to see him in jeans and a white long-sleeved shirt. Humphrey could have sworn he had only ever seen that man either in his work uniform or his formal shirt and tie. He had not thought that the Captain was physically capable of going for an in-between option.

The man cleared his throat awkwardly as he scanned the room. Everyone was openly staring at the apparition standing in their kitchen.

"Maybe I should go," the Captain mumbled and immediately turned to leave again.

"No." Pat rose from his chair. "Come in, Cap. I promise we won't be weird."

It's not us you have to worry about, Pat, Humphrey thought. But he was raised with manners.

"Yeah, do you want a drink?" He got up, accidentally on purpose shoving into Robin on his way to the freezer to stop his brother from gaping like a fish. "We got some beer in the freezer. It's just about cold enough."

"Oh, no thank you. Water will be fine."

"You sure?" Humphrey held up a can of Beck's wrapped in wet paper towels. Julian had given them a ten-minute talk on different methods to cool drinks quickly while they had been preparing the pizza toppings.

"Yes. Well." The Captain stared at a spot on the floor as he spoke. "I did not bring anything. Apologies." His voice was a bit off. Deeper than usual. His fingers played with the bottom hem of his shirt.

Humphrey tore his gaze away from the man seemingly teetering on a nervous breakdown to check if the others were seeing what he was seeing. Was it the jeans? Maybe they were cutting off circulation to certain parts of the body and this resulted in the Captain being kind of weird? A different kind of weird at least. Humphrey risked a glance.

No, normal fit. Accentuated the legs quite nicely though. Humphrey quickly turned his gaze to the beer can in his hand and he started peeling off the paper towel.

"This one alright?" He presented the can to the Captain whose gaze met his own for just a second.

"Oh, yes." It was more of a squeak. The Captain cleared his throat. "I mean thank you. It's my shopping day tomorrow. I will get more to replace this one."

Humphrey waved him off after handing him the beer can. "No worries, mate. You and Pat got Dante back. You deserve some free beer."

"Oh, okay. Thank you." He remained standing just inside the doorway.

Humphrey turned to the others. "Come on, move up a little. Our party just got bigger."

Everyone immediately scrambled to accommodate another person at the table. Pat pulled the leftover chair that was usually pushed into a corner on Pizza Night into the space next to him.

"Come on, Cap. Sit down. We are still waiting for the dough." Pat moved to physically manhandle the shell-shocked man into the chair. But the Captain did manage by himself before Pat could touch him. Lady Button leaned forward to say something to him that Humphrey was too far away to make out.

Julian pried the can of beer from the Captain's hand and opened it. "Don't let it get warm again after all the trouble I went through," he admonished and placed the drink on the table.

"We've got the toppings ready. The dough is still rising." Pat had apparently decided to take the Captain under his wing.

Kitty helped by holding up one of the bowls. "These are onions."

The Captain frowned as she pointed out the different vegetables. He made some acknowledging noises while looking mighty baffled. His confusion might have stirred from the, admittedly, alarming amount of produce on offer. Or, more likely, by Kitty's apparent belief that he needed a crash course in vegetable names.

Humphrey moved closer to Mary who was inspecting the dough on the counter. "He's being weird, right?"

Mary looked up and followed his gaze to the table where Kitty dared the Captain to eat some green bell pepper and cheered loudly when he did, albeit with a slightly repulsed expression. "Maybe he be possessed by the devil."

Humphrey deemed that unlikely but then again, he did not consider himself an expert in that field.

"What are you going to put on your pizza, Captain?" Kitty was asking now. She was clearly the most excited to have the Captain join them. Pat looked quietly chuffed as well but everyone else was throwing suspicious glances at each other and the man suddenly sitting among them. Seemed like Humphrey was not the only one confused.

He moved back to his seat just as the Captain declared that he preferred a simple cheese pizza.

Kitty gasped as if he had insulted her. "What? But look at all these delicious vegetables. They are very good for you. And you said you like them all. Maybe not the green peppers but that's okay because they do taste a bit like poison. And you love tomatoes you said." She seemed to have taken his opinion as a personal affront.

Her rant did not seem to help the Captain's nervous disposition. His wide eyes watched Kitty orate on for a few more seconds before, to Humphrey's horror, his face fell into an expression they were all more than familiar with. His eyebrows drew together, his moustache seemed to droop down, the blue eyes turned stoic.

"If my preferred way of topping a pizza is not welcome, I'll simply take my leave." The Captain pushed himself away from the table and stiffly rose from his chair. As he walked past, Humphrey could hear him mumble "I knew this was a mistake." And then he was gone.

Humphrey rose to try and deescalate the situation but Pat was quicker. "I'll get him back," he promised, following the Captain into the hallway. The man had gotten quite far away already if Pat's hurried footsteps were anything to go by.

"Outrageous," Lady Button whispered and for a moment Humphrey wasn't certain who her ire was directed at. But the way she was glaring at the doorway, told Humphrey that she wasn't angry with poor Kitty.

Humphrey turned around to face the others. They were all in different stages of processing the events and showing their conclusions on their faces.

"That was all a bit weird, right?" He asked tentatively. "I'm not trying to be mean or anything," he quickly added when he saw Lady Button's expression turn even darker. "But I've never seen him so nervous before."

"Never see him in jeans," Robin offered.

"Yeah, he be wearing them well," Mary added a bit dreamily. Some of the others nodded while Lady Button looked a second away from an aneurysm.

Before Humphrey could process the fact that half of Button House was suddenly thirsting for the gardener, Kitty burst into violent sobs.

They all stared at her.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I didn't mean to be mean."

Her crying almost drowned out Thomas's offers of synonyms to avoid using the same word in her sentence twice.

"Nasty, maybe? Or cruel? Evil?"

The wails only intensified.

"Yes, thank you, Thomas." Humphrey's attempt at deescalating the situation worked only partially. While it stopped Thomas's rant on synonyms, he started one about expressing one's feelings through words instead of hysterical outbursts.

Robin and Julian rolled their eyes at him so hard that their eyeballs almost went spinning. Humphrey had to agree with them. If they were forced to find a synonym for hysterical outbursts it would be the name Thomas Thorne.

"I just wanted to make sure he knew we would share with him," Kitty explained, now somewhat calmer. There were actual tear tracks on her round cheeks. "He didn't even want to take the beer."

Mary moved to pat her shoulder consolingly. Lady Button still appeared to have swallowed a lemon. Her fiery gaze remained fixed on the doorway the Captain, and then Pat, had disappeared through. She really wasn't a fan of her gardener, was she?

They all sat in quiet and awkward contemplation for a while, accompanied by Kitty's sobbing and Mary's shushing.

Pat reappeared in the doorway eventually. Alone. And looking a bit heartbroken. Who knew what insults the Captain had thrown at him.

"Not joining us then?" Humphrey asked carefully.

Pat only shook his head.

"Oh well, maybe next time." Humphrey said it for Pat's sake. He himself had not really formed an opinion on whether he wanted the Captain to join them again. But he would probably prefer if the man stayed away. If they could only walk on eggshells around him to not send him running again, he could fuck right off.

The mood did not particularly increase until Mary declared the dough to be ready for rolling. Robin and Julian immediately took the stage to declare their outrageous combination of toppings, pulling new ingredients from seemingly nowhere. Chocolate buttons were involved. Even Mary, quite adventurous in the culinary department, turned up her nose.

Humphrey tried to tune them out. He layered his pizza with onions and an alibi slice of tomato to the centre before dumping an entire packet of shredded cheese on top.

He risked a glance at Pat. The man appeared to be in some state of grief as he slowly moved the rolling pin over his dough. Humphrey moved closer and gently bumped into him.

"Come on, Pat. Don't let that old prat get to you."

Pat shrugged but remained quiet.

Humphrey bent down and tried to meet his gaze. "Did he say something to you? He can be a right bastard. Whatever he said, let me tell you, it's not true, okay?"

Pat blinked and looked up. "What?" The rolling pin had stilled. "No, he didn't say anything mean or anything." Then he mumbled something that sounded like "Not to me at least".

Humphrey silently offered the bowl with the tomato sauce and Pat took a generous helping to spread on his dough.

"What did he say then? Why did he come anyway?" Humphrey asked. "Not that I'm not happy about that," he quickly added when Pat glared at him. "We tried to get him down here for months and months."

"I invited him." Pat shrugged. "We spent the entire afternoon together, yannow? Maybe that loosened him up a bit?" He leaned over the table to grab some vegetables and distribute them on his pizza. "He's a sweet guy underneath all that..." Pat trailed off with a wave of his hand, accidentally dropping a slice of tomato onto the floor. Dante was a helpful cleaner-upper though.

"Hm," Humphrey said non-committingly. He did have eyes and he had witnessed brief glances of the man's less prickly side during interactions with Dante. And animals were said to be good judges of character, right?

"He was very concerned for the dog today," Pat explained. "Yelled himself hoarse."

"Yes, I had noticed that." The man had sounded different tonight. "I thought that came from yelling orders at you all day."

Pat smiled, half bemused, half strained. "Not even once. We worked really well together, I think."

Humphrey had a hard time picturing it. But then again, Pat was a very social and jolly fellow. Maybe even the Captain could fall for his charm.

He watched Pat spread a healthy amount of cheese on his pizza. He noted that only half of the pie had any vegetable toppings.

Oh.

Once the pizzas were in the oven, the two men joined the rest of the gang in their dubious debate on, well, Humphrey was not quite sure. It involved swans and the devil.

Loud cheers erupted when Mary pulled the first finished pizza out of the oven.

Humphrey watched with interest as Pat cut his pizza into even slices, moving the ones with only cheese onto a second plate he had pulled from the cabinet. Humphrey could be an adult too so he went to the freezer and pulled a can of beer out.

He handed it to Pat just as the man turned to leave the room. "Tell him, he's free to join us again any time."

Chapter Text

The morning after Dante had gone missing, they all met in the ballroom for their weekly staff meeting. Pat was sat on one of the sofas with Kitty and Thomas and half-heartedly listened to Thomas's newest attempt at romantic poetry. As a bit of a romantic himself, Pat could say with upmost certainty that it wasn't very good.

His eyes immediately clocked the Captain when the man entered the room unusually late to the event. His fleece jacket was zipped all the way closed and there was a steaming cup of tea in his hand. The Captain did not acknowledge any of them as he moved to stand behind the sofa where Julian, Robin and Mary were sitting. He seemed determined to stare at his drink. Julian turned around for a second to look at him with narrowed eyes but did not say anything. Neither did anyone else.

Lady Button joined them moments later. Dante did his obligatory round and sniffed all of their shoes. He stopped in front of Julian to growl up at him and Pat saw the Captain's moustache twitch upwards on one side. Lady Button began to give them a quick run-down of the following week. Business as usual mostly. A class of Year 10 pupils would be coming in on Friday, an event Pat would be helping Humphrey with. Now that autumn was in full-swing, the number of visitors and tours dwindled a bit which gave them more time to meet and plan for upcoming events at Button House. The first wedding reception was scheduled for the end of the month. And then there was Bonfire Night. Which Pat was very excited for.

"The preparations for the fifth of November are well underway, or so I've been told." Lady Button let her gaze wander over the group. "The advertising posters for the event went up in the village, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am," Pat told her confidently. He, Kitty and Thomas had managed to put up posters in the shop windows in pretty much every business. They had even sweet-talked the school secretaries of the local primary and secondary schools to hang up posters on their notice boards. This promised to be a big event. There'd be cider and Mary's apple pie. Robin had been given permission to organise a little fireworks display. They all looked justifiably concerned about that announcement.

"The Captain and Robin will be setting up the bonfire in the field in front of the house. Not the lawn. The field past the fence. When will you get started, Captain?"

The man in question slowly raised his gaze from his tea mug and cleared his throat. "We'll start early on the fifth." His voice was deeper than normal and not much louder than a whisper.

"Will that be enough time, do you think?" Pat asked before he could stop himself. He could feel the others stare at him in shock, some even shook their heads disapprovingly. None of them fancied an argument at this time in the morning apparently.

The Captain frowned and cleared his throat again before speaking. "The hedgehogs would think a pile of wood to be the perfect place for hibernation. And we don't want local youths setting it on fire early."

"Quite right." Lady Button pointedly stared at him for a few seconds. The Captain took a long sip of tea from his mug.

"Well, if there are no more questions..." Lady Button dismissed them with a wave of her hand and the others all scrambled out of the room.

Pat stayed seated for a bit longer. His first tour would start in half an hour, so he had a few minutes to kill. He pulled out his phone. From the corner of his eye he observed the Captain approach Lady Button, Dante following close on his heel.

Lady Button raised her arm as if to lay her hand on the man's forehead. "Are you unwell?"

The Captain managed to pull his head away just in time.

"Don't do that," he croaked and took a step backwards for good measure. Dante was forced to scramble out of the way.

"Well, are you?"

"No. I'm fine."

"You always say that." Lady Button's hands came to rest against her front.

The Captain kept his gaze fixed on them. "Yes, well, I am absolutely fine. My voice has just gone. Will you be needing anything from the shops?"

"No, just the dog food, thank you." Lady Button rummaged around her dress for a second and pulled out a set of car keys from some secret pocket.

"Alright." The Captain accepted the keys and then his gaze met Pat's. He frowned and then quickly turned to leave. Dante scrambled after him but Lady Button called him back.

"The Captain is busy right now," she told him and Pat saw the dog's ears droop with disappointment. Dante even whined for good measure. Lady Button looked down at him with raised eyebrows. "This is not up for discussion. Do not think that I don't remember what happened the last time you went to the pet shop."

Dante barked.

"Out of the question. We have work to do. Come along."

Pat quickly turned his attention to his phone to look busy as Lady Button turned on the spot to leave. Luckily, she barely glanced in his direction before she too exited the room, Dante following behind her.

Watching an interaction between Lady Button and the Captain was always fascinating, Pat thought as he absently traced patterns on the ballroom's ancient wallpaper with his eyes. They seemed oddly close for a Lady of an estate home and her gardener. He had overheard the Captain calling her a shortened version of her first name a few times. She never returned the gesture unfortunately.

Julian had suggested a betting pool about the man's actual name a few weeks ago. As far as Pat knew, only Robin and Mary had placed bets so far. Everyone else was too terrified about what the Captain would do to them if he found out about it.

Maybe, they were having a secret affair. The Lady and the gardener. Straight from a Regency novel. Which Thomas already would have written endless poetry about if he'd had the slightest inkling that there was anything going on between them. But why would they see the need to keep a romantic relationship hidden anyway? Pat knew that Lady Button was divorced. And the Captain barely left the estate enough to be considered a free person, so it seemed unlikely that he had a wife hidden away somewhere.

Was it the age difference? Despite greying considerably, Pat thought the Captain to be quite a few years younger than Lady Button. But the way they stuck up their noses at everyone else and yelled for people to get off the lawn, they both might as well be in their eighties. Maybe Lady Button would be ostracized for even looking at her gardener? Posh people were weird like that, even if the gardener had gone to Oxford and sounded very posh himself. Pat had no idea how the higher classes worked.

He had not dared to question any of the others on the nature of Lady Button's and the Captain's relationship. He loved a bit of gossip but with both individuals in question always teetering on the edge of spontaneous combustion, he rather not put his thoughts out there.

Pat stood up from the sofa and got on with his morning. He would figure it out eventually. Maybe a bit of espionage was in order.

After his tour had concluded, Pat left his visitors to mingle in the gardens or storm the café to get some lunch for himself. Another tour was scheduled for the afternoon. He walked towards the residents' car park to get to the front of the house. Pat did have a key for the doors at the back of the house but he had gotten desperately lost several times. He was not great with directions inside buildings. Drop him off in the middle of a forest and Pat could find his way back no problem. But inside where there was no sun, moss or wildlife to guide him? Hopeless. His safest bet was to use the main door at the front of the house to get to the kitchen.

He came upon the Captain who was busy unloading a huge yellow bag of something from the boot of Lady Button's car onto his quad bike. The bag had a jolly looking dog on its front, so it was probably the dog food Pat had heard being discussed earlier.

"Hello Captain," Pat greeted him cheerfully.

The Captain's head whipped up. Only a few centimetres and he would have brained himself on the boot lid.

"Y-yes." He cleared his throat. "Good day to you, Patrick." The Captain busied himself with securing the bag of dog food to the back of the quad in a conspicuous attempt to avoid eye contact.

"How are you?" Pat folded his hands behind his back as he watched him.

The Captain glanced up. He always looked baffled when Pat asked him how he was doing as if it wasn't the most normal question people heard a hundred times a day.

"Fine, I think?" The Captain pulled on the bungee cord he had used to tie up the dog food. Pat wasn't a fan of those bungee cords. What was wrong with some good old-fashioned ropes and a reef knot?

"Busy day today?" Pat nodded at the quad bike.

"Oh, um, no." The Captain looked up at the grey sky. "It's my day off today."

"Is it?" Pat let his gaze roam over the other man's outfit. Just like this morning, he was sporting his fleece jacket, still zipped all the way up, cargo trousers and brown work boots. Pat now knew that the Captain actually owned a pair of jeans, so seeing him in his work clothes on his day off was intriguing. Not to mention that he was apparently purchasing dog food for his employer in his spare time. "Got any plans?"

The Captain let his gaze meet Pat's for just a second before he looked out at the trees that lined the car park. "I'm going to patrol the fences this afternoon."

Okay, was it Pat's responsibility to point out that that was probably considered work and that maybe the Captain was either a workaholic or being exploited by his employer that he may or may not be having a romantic affair with?

"Sounds nice," is what Pat said. He knew that his smile probably looked a bit strained.

"Mmh." The Captain took a deep breath, his gaze still fixed to a point far away. "Patrick?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you again. Fo-for the pizza. Last night."

"No problem, mate." Pat smiled even though the Captain was looking nowhere near him. "You are invited to come again next week if you want." That made the Captain's eyes widen fractionally. "Or I could bring you a pizza to your room? Like a delivery service. Nobody brings it hotter."

"Oh." The Captain shifted and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "That won't be necessary."

"Think about it." Pat pointed in the direction of the house. "I'm gonna grab some lunch. I got some leftover scotch eggs if you're hungry?"

The way the Captain did a full-body jolt gave Pat an answer before the man had even opened his mouth.

"No, thank you, Patrick. I-I ate while I was out. But thank you for the offer." The Captain addressed all of this to the gravel of the car park.

"Okay. I'll see you later maybe?" Pat pushed his glasses up his nose.

"Right." The Captain turned to pull down the boot lid and lock the car.

Pat left him to it and hurried inside. The kitchen was empty when he got there. He made himself a sandwich while his scotch eggs reheated in the oven. Then he sat down at the table to watch some YouTube.

Humphrey strode in a few minutes later, immediately starting to rant about something or other. Pat had stopped his video too late to catch the context. The man's ramblings broke off abruptly when he opened the refrigerator.

"Everything alright?" Pat leaned to the side but still could not see into the fridge from where he was sitting.

Humphrey did not answer and simply pulled a six pack of beer out of the fridge and placed it on the table.

"Bit early, innit? We're still working." Pat eyed his housemate with concern. Whatever it was he was fussed about could not have been troubling enough to rationalise drinking on their lunch break and risk getting fired over. Lady Button did not seem the type to allow this sort of behaviour. Especially a whole six-pack.

"What is this?" Humphrey pointed at the beer. He seemed genuinely confused. Had he started drinking already?

"Beer?" Pat was not sure how deep this confusion went. "Your favourite brand? German, I think."

"What is it doing on my shelf in the fridge?"

"Did you not put it there?" Pat decided to participate in the bewilderment.

"No. Did you?"

"Why would I do-" Pat stopped abruptly as he remembered who he had just talked to outside. "The Captain went out this morning. Maybe he bought it to repay you."

Humphrey groaned towards the ceiling. "I told him it wouldn't be necessary, didn't I?"

Pat shrugged and looked at the beer in thought. "Maybe he felt the need to apologise for storming off."

"Could have left a note," Humphrey grumbled. "I'm not a detective." He grabbed the beer to place it back in the fridge.

"Good thing you have me." Pat grinned and bit into his scotch egg. Maybe he could figure out whatever was going on between the Captain and Lady Button after all.

"Oh, there is a note!" Humphrey returned to the table with a yellow post-it. "Didn't see it. Must have fallen off." He stared at the paper, then handed it to Pat. "That man has really shit handwriting."

Pat stared at the squiggles and dashes. "Is it a code we have to decipher?" The Captain seemed like a bloke who would like spy stuff. It wasn't Morse code though. Pat knew his Morse code.

"Why would he send me a note in code?" Humphrey did not appear as enthused about potential intelligence operations. "I feel like I can't understand him even when we both speak English."

Pat sat the note down to return his attention to his lunch. "Could be a love letter," he mumbled around another bite of scotch egg. "Doesn't want anyone else to see it."

"I bet he doesn't even know how to spell 'love'," Humphrey shot back, stuffing the note into the back pocket of his trousers.

Over the next few days, Pat did not see much of the Captain.

Despite the grey, wet autumn weather the man seemed to spend most of his time outside even when he wasn't working while everyone else preferred the warmth and protection of the house. Deep down, Pat had hoped that, after their successful teamwork, the Captain would not make himself quite so scarce. But even deeper down Pat knew that it probably had not changed anything at all.

Which is why he was very surprised by what happened the following Tuesday.

Pat knew he was early for Pizza Night when he made his way towards the kitchen. But he did not have anything else to do, so he might as well set everything up and maybe get started on some chopping.

He came to a sudden halt when he saw who was sitting at the kitchen table. Looking like he was about to be interrogated by the Gestapo. The Captain was nervously wringing his fingers and visibly biting his lower lip. He looked up when he felt Pat's presence. A deer in the headlights had nothing on the poor man.

Better approach him carefully.

"Hello Captain." A casual greeting should do the tr-

No.

The Captain looked ready to bolt. Hands braced against the table, his body already angled for the only exit that Pat was still blocking.

Pat slowly walked past the table towards the fridge. "I'm gonna grab a beer. Do you want anything?" Then he mentally slapped himself. That same question had not gone over well last week.

But the Captain surprised him. He was suddenly next to Pat, pulling the fridge door open.

"I got beer."

"So you have." Pat stared at the Captain's designated shelf and found it completely filled with different kinds of beer and some soft drinks.

"Is this the one you like?" The Captain pulled out a can of Watney's. "You had some on your shelf, so I thought ... well..." He trailed off and shrugged.

Pat was very certain he had never been as surprised before. Including the time the nurse had handed him a healthy baby boy after he and Carol had been told they were expecting a girl during every ultrasound appointment.

The Captain glanced at him and immediately placed the beer back on the shelf. "Y-you can ... you can have whatever you want. I'll just let you choose." He then retreated to the table with hunched shoulders.

Pat grabbed the can the Captain had just placed back in the fridge and sat himself next to his housemate. "Thanks for the beer, Captain."

"Mmh."

"What's in the bag?" Pat nodded towards the bag-for-life from Asda that was sitting on the table.

The Captain pulled it closer and reached inside. "Mozzarella." He held up a package from a brand Pat never even looked at because it was so expensive. Pat Butcher was very much a house-brand kind of guy.

"I like cheese. I did not know what else to bring." The Captain shrugged and upended his bag on the table. About fifteen bags of white mozzarella rolled out.

"Okay?" Pat blinked because he very much had no idea what else to do. He picked up one of the cheese balls to inspect the packaging.

"It's vegetarian," the Captain hurried to say. "If anyone ... is anyone vegan?" His eyes widened. "Oh God, what if they are? Are they going to be offended?" He stood up suddenly, the chair he had been sitting on screeching across the stone floor.

"Nah, mate, don't worry," Pat said as calmly as possible to balance out the Captain's rising panic. The man had started stuffing the cheese back into his bag. "They all love my sausage rolls."

"Do they?" The Captain paused, three balls of mozzarella clutched to his chest.

"Sure. Big fans of pasties too. Mary's pasties are the best in the world. And I've been to Cornwall."

The Captain stared at him for an uncomfortable long moment. It's probably the longest eye contact they've ever had.

"Oh, hello loves."

Pat turned his head to find Mary smiling at them from the other end of the table.

"You not be wearing jeans," she told the Captain, clearly looking him up and down as he stood there in his gardening uniform.

"What?" The Captain glanced down at himself. He was still holding on to the cheese. "No," he concluded dumbly, frowning.

"Shame," Mary said and turned away to walk over to the counter where the pizza dough had been left to rise.

"What?" The Captain turned to Pat.

Pat shrugged and gave him a thumbs-up.

Humphrey showed up shortly after and immediately had a can of his favourite beer shoved into his hand by the Captain without as much as a by-your-leave. He blinked down at the can, then at Pat.

"The Captain got beer for everyone," Pat told him, holding up his Watney's to convey that Humphrey's worry about a murder attempt by the gardener was probably unfounded.

"Great." Humphrey settled himself into a chair opposite Pat. In the perfect position for Pat to kick him in the shin. "Thank you, Captain," Humphrey hissed, as he bent down to rub his abused leg and glare at Pat.

"Oh. I am so sorry." The Captain bounced, literally bounced on his tippy toes, over to Mary who was still standing near the counter, seemingly conversing with the pizza dough. "Would you like a drink? I am so very sorry."

"I be thirsting for the sight of you in jeans."

"What?" The Captain's bouncing stopped abruptly as he froze.

"I'll be havin' a beer," Mary told him seriously.

"Yes, okay." The Captain fled over to the fridge with lightning speed to rip open the door. "Any beer?" He called from inside the fridge.

Once Mary had been provided with a drink, the Captain hurried back to the table to stiffly sit down in his chair. He watched Mary move around the room with narrowed eyes.

"What's with all the cheese?" Humphrey gestured to the packages of mozzarella covering the table.

Pat snorted as he saw the Captain's already alarmed expression become even more alarmed.

"Cap went shopping and panicked a bit," Pat explained.

"No," the Captain turned to him, now looking quite serious. "I planned ahead. What if the entire unit wants mozzarella? We cannot leave anyone behind."

Humphrey nodded along, suddenly all serious. "Yeah, we wouldn't want that. It'd be carnage. I'm glad there's at least one of us with a plan." He pulled one of the mozzarella packages closer. "I'll definitely be having one of these bad boys."

The Captain's shoulders visibly relaxed.

"Oh, by the way, Mister Cheese." Humphrey leaned forward to pull something from the back pocket of his jeans. "What is this supposed to say?"

Pat recognised the yellow post-it note they had found in the fridge last week.

The Captain squinted at the paper for a second before recognition dawned on his face. "Thank you for the beer."

"Is it written in code?" Humphrey turned the note so he could look at it again.

"What? No, of course not. I'm not a spy." The Captain seemed to take that accusation quite seriously by the way his posture became rigid again. "Just plain old English."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I am sure that I'm not a spy."

"That's what a spy would say," Pat mumbled before taking a sip from his beer.

"Were you drunk when you wrote it?" Humphrey asked.

"No." The Captain scrunched up his nose, Quieter he said, "I may or may not have been wearing my reading glasses."

Humphrey raised his eyebrows and his mouth twitched just before he started snickering. Pat felt the Captain jump and when he looked over, he saw that the poor man's gaze kept flickering to the doorway.

"I know what that's like," Humphrey said when he was finally able to speak again and held up his can of beer. "Cheers."

"Oh." The Captain looked from Humphrey to Pat and back. Then at the empty space in front of him.

"You have glasses?" Pat asked as the Captain clattered over to the fridge in a frenzy. "I've never seen you wear glasses."

"I never wear them so that's probably why." Humphrey grinned. "They make me look old."

Pat tipped on the side of his own glasses. "I think they make men like us look distinguished. Right Cap?"

"Hm?" The Captain returned himself to his chair, a beer now clutched in his hand. "No. They make me look old."

"Exactly," Humphrey agreed, holding out his beer again. "Cheers."

They clinked their cans together but before anyone could take an actual drink, Robin walked in.

He placed his hands on his hips, furrowed his bushy eyebrows and stared at the Captain. Who immediately lowered his drink and stared back.

Oh no. They weren't going to start a row, were they? Pat did his best to subtly shake his head, hoping that Robin would see and get the message. Don't ruin it now, mate. They had gotten so far tonight. The Captain was in the kitchen. With them. Talking. Not only to Pat but to Humphrey and even Mary. Don't ruin it.

"You," Robin growled. Then nodded. "Good." He dropped his hands to his side and slunk over to stand next to Mary.

Pat turned to the Captain who was suddenly very interested in the ingredients list of his beer. Which he probably could not read without his glasses.

"Uuh, we be gettin's the special sauces."

The Captain's head snapped up as Mary and Robin bustled out of the kitchen.

"Special sauces," he whispered, bordering on whimpering. "What does that mean? What special sauces?" He looked petrified.

Humphrey grinned. "Her special pizza sauce. Only comes out for special occasions."

The Captain shifted around on his chair. His widened eyes gradually narrowed to suspicious slits. "What's special about it?"

"Homemade," Humphrey explained. "Lots of tomatoes lying about in the kitchen this last summer. Wherever they came from." He leaned forward and the Captain leaned back. Humphrey's smile widened.

"I helped her," Pat cut in because the Captain looked like he wanted to run again. "A pro at skinning tomatoes me. She wouldn't tell me her secret ingredient though."

"Secret ingredient." The Captain had his hands braced against the table and the two front legs of his chair had actually lifted off the ground.

"Probably some herb." Pat shrugged.

"Or Smarties or something," Humphrey suggested, tapping the side of his chin.

"Or lots of love," Pat quickly added.

"Love?" The Captain frowned.

Humphrey relaxed back into his chair. "That's her special ingredient in everything though. Have you tried her carrot cake?"

"Yes?" The Captain cleared his throat. He returned his chair into a proper position and his hands into his lap.

"Lots of love in there."

"Hm." The Captain appeared to contemplate that for a second before he once again looked up with large eyes. "What special occasion?"

"What?" Pat lowered his drink just before he could take sip.

"You," said the Captain and pointed at Humphrey, "said the special sauce only comes out for special occasions. What's the special occasion?" He made a choking sound. "Is it someone's birthday? I don't want to intrude."

The Captain scooted his chair back and made to get up, so Pat grabbed his arm to stop him. But the Captain pulled it out of his grasp immediately and stood up.

"Don't go," Pat said quickly. "It isn't anyone's birthday. Right?" He turned to Humphrey to confirm.

Humphrey shook his head. "Unless it's yours?" He raised his eyebrows at the Captain.

"No?"

"Right. Sit down." Pat tapped the table where the Captain's beer was sitting.

The other man slowly slunk back into his chair and cleared his throat. "Are you sure tha-"

"SPECIAL SAUCE!" Robin ran back into the kitchen with a big glass jar of tomato sauce in his hands. Pat felt and saw the Captain flinch.

Mary followed at a more sedate pace with another jar in her hands and Thomas and Kitty right behind her.

"Oh hello." Kitty immediately beelined for the unoccupied chair on the Captain's left. "I was hoping to see you here."

"Right?" The Captain blinked straight ahead instead of looking at her.

"Are you looking forward to a nice cheese pizza?" Kitty wriggled around in her seat. Pat could only hope that the Captain would take her question as the genuine inquiry that it was and not as attempted mockery. The Captain's frown was not a good sign.

"He's brought cheese." Humphrey held up two balls of mozzarella.

"Oh, how wonderful." Kitty leaned across the table to grab some cheese as well. "That is very kind of you, Captain."

"And drinks," Pat piped up.

It did the trick and brought the Captain out of his stupor. He jumped up and, in a tone that should be reserved for training exercises in the army, inquired about Kitty's preferred choice of drink.

"This is both the most exhausting and funniest human interaction I've ever had," Humphrey said, leaning over the table to speak to Pat while the Captain bustled around the room to order everyone to accept a drink from him. They all looked a bit intimidated and simultaneously very confused.

"Ssh," Pat hissed back and then smiled widely and waved when his gaze met the Captain's. "Let's be happy he hasn't run yet."

"I am," Humphrey stage-whispered back. "He's hilarious."

Pat and Humphrey watched as Thomas stared at the can of Sprite the Captain was holding out to him for a second too long.

"It's not poisoned, Thorne," the Captain growled. "Not my style."

"Oh." Thomas accepted the drink with two fingers and eyes epically wide. "What is your style?"

The Captain weighed his head from side to side. "I'd just talk to them for a really long time and they'd probably off themselves voluntarily." He paused. "Or the shotgun. If I was on a schedule."

Humphrey turned back to Pat with a wide grin. "I think I love him."

There was snow. And a lot of it.

When Humphrey had finally opened his eyes after snoozing his alarm at least six times, he had immediately noticed how the light coming in from outside looked very different from the grey, misty soup that was so typical for a late October day in good old Britain. It was also a lot colder in the room than usual. And an old house like this was usually quite cold already.

So Humphrey had stumbled over to the window to see what was going on. He got tangled in his bed sheets and fell flat on his face in the process. Luckily, there was no one to witness this early morning embarrassment. When he finally made it to the window, he had gasped like a maiden in one of Thomas's romance films.

There was snow. And a lot of it.

Last night they had all chuckled in disbelief when, after they had watched one of Thomas's films with gasping maidens (who often fainted right after), the weather lady on the telly had announced a chance of snow overnight. This was Surrey after all. And October. But apparently miracles were still a thing these days.

Because the land outside of Humphrey's window was completely covered in a white blanket. Not the grey slushy kind they called snow around here. Or even the light dusting they were lucky to get once or twice a year. But a proper blanket of snow. No green grass or tree tops or brown soil and fields were visible. It was all very white. And there was more coming. Fat snowflakes danced through the air on their way to the ground.

It looked like a scene straight from a film. Not the one with the maidens. More the Hallmark kind. Humphrey channelled his pragmatic side and was thankful that he worked from home, so to speak, and did not have to go driving in this weather. He wasn't a fan of driving anyway. But this? People this far south were not equipped to operate vehicles in these conditions. So, yes. Humphrey was glad he would not be required to leave the house. But he also needed to get a move on. He hurried over to his wardrobe.

And then he remembered what day it was. The first wedding would be taking place at Button House today. Well, the reception anyway. The ceremony itself would happen at the church. Lady B had given a strict order for everyone to go to bed early and be well-rested for an eight-ó-clock roll call in the ballroom.

Which they had all igno-

Oh. Whoops. Humphrey tripped over his own feet. He shouldn't have snoozed his alarm quite so many times after all. He was late. Properly late. By sixteen minutes already. He was so dead.

Humphrey showered at lightning speed and quickly dressed in his best black suit, forgot how to tie a tie properly and just slung the thing over his shoulder for now. Pat could probably help him out. If Lady B had not used it to kill him by then. She did not appreciate tardiness.

"You're late."

Neither did the Captain. He accosted Humphrey the moment he tried to sneak into the ballroom and pretend that he had always been there. The Captain was properly dressed of course, neatly combed and gelled hair, perfectly knotted tie, dark blue trousers, no jacket, which revealed that he was wearing brown braces. He was also sporting a proper frown which he was currently aiming at Humphrey's own tie.

"What's going on?" Humphrey asked as he tried to look past the Captain to all the activity happening behind him. Some of the others were busy running in and out of the room, shouting.

"The wedding is taking place here," the Captain said, still eyeing Humphrey's tie with disdain.

"Yes, I know that." Humphrey craned his neck to see Mary and Robin carry in some chairs. "We've been getting lectures about it for weeks."

"No, the wedding itself. The ... the service." From the corner of his eye, Humphrey could see that the Captain's gaze moved up to the ceiling. "The part where they say 'I do' or something to that effect."

Humphrey focused on him properly. "Oh really? Why?" That part was supposed to happen at the local church. Not that he was fussed about that kind of thing. He wasn't a fan of churches. Not the buildings, those were fine. The institutions that came with them however...

"The road up to the church is impassable," the Captain told him. "The hill is a complete death trap right now. The couple inquired if they could hold the ceremony here."

"Don't we still need someone to officiate? Is the vicar coming?"

"Yes." Then the Captain performed a little head tilt. "Well, we're trying to find a way to get the vicar here. He lives at the vicarage. Also up on the hill."

"Okay?"

"Are you going to fix your tie?"

"What?"

"Your tie is ... crooked." The Captain had his gaze once again fixed on Humphrey's shoulder where the tie still hung in one long strip of fabric.

"Why? You wanna do it up for me?"

The Captain finally met Humphrey's gaze. "No." Then he turned on his heels and walked away.

Compared to the interactions that had made up a large share of their acquaintance thus far, this little chat had been, dare Humphrey say, shockingly heart-warming. The Captain was still awfully stiff and straightforward, bordering on rude but he also seemed to be generally confused whenever someone initiated a conversation with him. He was like a baby giraffe, taking his first wobbly steps in the world of normal human communication. The Army probably wasn't the best place to learn these kinds of things and who knew what they taught at Oxbridge these days. Nothing morally sound by the looks of it. They've all met Julian after all.

The Captain found a new target to verbally harass. Mary and Robin listened to whatever the Captain had to say about the arrangement of the chairs they had carried in. They nodded and then just left. The Captain made some annoyed noise in his throat before grabbing two of the chairs to place them where he wanted them.

Humphrey snuck past him to find Pat. For help with his tie and also for some general sense of direction in whatever was going on. Not too much direction. He would get more than direction if he asked the Captain. But that man was a bit too intense this early in the morning. And without at least two cups of tea.

"Oh, mornin', mate." Pat entered the hall Humphrey had fled to from the other side, carrying a chair that matched some of the ones the Captain was pulling into submission in the ballroom. "Bit of a wild morning, yeah?"

Humphrey had been awake for less than ten minutes but if he was to be a judge, then yes, it was a bit wild.

"Take this, will ya?" Pat handed him the chair as soon as he had reached the spot where Humphrey was lingering. "I'll get the next one."

He trundled back past the Tudor stairs and through a doorway before Humphrey could protest or ask if he needed help (preferably away from the Captain's case of early-morning neuroticness) or where the chairs were coming from or if he could have a cup of tea first.

So Humphrey carried the chair into the ballroom where the Captain had set up its mismatched mates into two neat rows with a generous gap in the centre. A central aisle maybe? Humphrey placed his chair next to one of the others to complete the second row. The Captain, now wearing glasses, stomped over immediately to move it half a centimetre forward for perfect alignment.

"I'm thinking we should place a flower arrangement at the end of each aisle," the Captain said apropos of nothing as he knelt down with a creak to measure the distance between two of the chairs with a fucking tape measure. "Floral street lights, if you like."

He looked up at Humphrey as if he was expecting an answer. And it looked like he really had expected an answer because he frowned when Humphrey failed to respond in time.

"Is that not a good idea?" The Captain used one of the chairs' back rests to pull himself into a standing position again. "I thought it would look quite marvellous." He inclined his head to the side as he considered the chairs as a whole. "What's your suggestion?"

"What?" Humphrey was still hung up on the tape measure. Why would he have suggestions? He hadn't even had tea or coffee yet. "Maybe the wedding planner has some ideas?"

The wedding planner had visited a few days ago for one last walk-through. An enthusiastic fellow who had gushed over the messy piles of books in the library because they made the room look so aesthetic. They had only been stacked up like that because Lady B had finally gotten the cleaning staff to dust the library but they had gone home after their shift with their task only half finished. The screaming rant Lady B had let lose after that revelation had been only the first of many clues that she was more anxious about the upcoming wedding than her stoic facade would ever suggest.

"Hm." The Captain looked around with furrowed eyebrows. Then he seemed to reach a conclusion Humphrey wasn't made privy to and left the room.

"A little help?" Pat called from where he was struggling through the other doorway with a chair under each arm.

Humphrey hurried over to relieve him of one of his burdens.

"Ta, mate." Pat was a little out of breath. "Robin abandoned me. He suddenly had an idea how to get the vicar here and just ran off."

They placed the two chairs behind the others to start a third row. Humphrey then helped Pat carry in the rest of the chairs. Turned out that they came from the rooms in the East Wing, the ones they used for the school groups. The Captain was still nowhere to be seen.

"I need some tea, I think," Pat announced when they had carried in the last two chairs.

Humphrey was running on auto-pilot at this point. He was probably dying or something. He had never gone without a hot beverage this long after waking up in the morning. Pat led him down the Tudor stairs but turned right instead of left when they reached the ground floor. Left would have brought them to the kitchen and the kettle and mugs and tea. Right led them to the drawing room. Where Kitty and Mary were bustling around a large table-clothed table loaded with wine glasses, champagne glasses and well, more glasses. A place Humphrey strictly told himself to stay away from.

Pat pulled him over to a side table where a tray with mugs sat. There were some bananas, apples and grapes as well.

"Tea or coffee?" Pat asked, fishing Humphrey's favourite mug from the tray and walking over to the table Kitty and Mary were working at. To one side sat two large beverage dispensers that Pat now beelined to.

"Um, tea?"

Humphrey watched as Pat filled his mug with steaming water and added a tea bag from a little wicker basket. Was Pat allowed to do that? Wasn't that for the guests?

"Here." Pat came back and pressed the mug with delicious liquid into Humphrey's hands. "Breakfast was a bit of a no-go this morning. Lady B got us right to work. I get a bit grumpy when I don't have me eggs in the morning."

Pat did not look or sound grumpy, him in his little beige suit and properly tied tie as his hand flitted over the fruit bowl, taking a second to make the decision between a banana and an apple. He went for the apple in the end.

Humphrey still felt not entirely caught up. "So the ceremony is being held here?"

Pat turned to him with a big smile. "Isn't that great? I love weddings. I'm gonna cry, I just know it."

"When is the ceremony supposed to start?" Humphrey asked as he took his first sip of goodness. The tea wasn't properly steeped yet and the liquid entirely too hot but he felt better immediately. Not entirely alive yet but less jumbled.

Pat shrugged. "Whenever people get here I suppose. It's a bit of a death trap out there. The Captain said the streets are completely iced over. The service at the church was set for eleven."

The door to the library swung open and Lady B stormed into the room. "Everyone. Everyone!"

Everyone only included Humphrey, Pat and Kitty at the moment. Mary had disappeared somewhere.

"What's up, Lady Button?" Pat was brave enough to speak up. He did not even falter under the wide-eyed stare Lady B directed at him.

"It's a disaster. That's what it is."

Pat did shrink away from her a bit then.

"The wedding planner has just cancelled. Cancelled! Outrageous."

"Oh no." Kitty slapped her own cheeks in distress. "How rude."

"Yes." Lady B sighed. "Well, he did get in a traffic collision this morning. Called me from inside his wrecked car. They were in the process of cutting him out. Made it difficult to conduct the phone call. Honestly." She scoffed

"Is he alright though?" Pat asked.

"Yes, he's fine. Just stuck in his car. Upside down. But he's not coming."

"Oh." Pat turned to look at Humphrey and shrugged. Humphrey felt inclined to return the gesture.

"Where are the others?" Lady B stormed over to one of the windows to look outside into the whiteout. "Where's the Captain?"

"He was upstairs a few minutes ago," Humphrey said before hiding behind his mug.

Lady B whirled around. "Upstairs? He's supposed to be de-icing the driveway." She craned her neck to direct her yells towards the main staircase. "Captain! CAPTAIN!"

No answer came so she stormed her way up the stairs, her arms stiffly moving up and down with her marching. "CAPTAIN!"

Humphrey, Pat and Kitty followed her. Humphrey didn't know why. Sometimes you just couldn't look away, okay? They arrived in the ballroom just as the Captain appeared in the doorway on the other side of the room, carrying a large cardboard box.

"What?" He sounded annoyed. But one would be if Lady B was screeching their name like a banshee.

"What on earth are you doing?" Lady B exploded immediately. "You're supposed to be out there and ensure the safety of our guests."

The Captain was brave enough to roll his eyes."I did that. And now I'm decorating the ballroom." He honed in on the chairs Humphrey and Pat had placed in neat rows behind the ones the Captain had set up. He put down the box on one of the sofas that had been pushed against the wall and retrieved his tape measure from his trouser pocket.

"Are you absolutely certain that the passage is safe?" Lady B asked as they all watched the Captain flutter around the chairs. "Because the wedding planner just informed me that he was involved in a terrible traffic collision on the way here. And we do not need something similar to happen on our lands."

The Captain looked up. " Oh, is he alright?"

"Yes. But he is unable to attend." Lady B breathed out dramatically. "We're on our own."

"Right." The Captain snapped his tape measure back and got to his feet again. "Where are the caterers? And are we any closer in getting the vicar here? What is the status on the couple and their entourage?"

"The caterers have arrived, thank goodness," Lady B told them. "The waiting staff has mostly balked. So we're being forced into a buffet situation. Mary is in the process of setting it up. Shouldn't you be down there to help?" She turned to Kitty who only managed to smile tightly under Lady B's fiery gaze and scuttled out of the room.

The Captain, meanwhile, had walked back to the cardboard box he had carried in earlier and was rummaging through it.

"Ha." He pulled out a giant ball of fairy lights. "Let's put these up."

"Can we focus, please?" Lady B screeched. "How are we going to get the vicar here? We cannot proceed without him. Is your detestable vehicle equipped for these conditions?"

The Captain frowned at the description of what Humphrey assumed was his beloved quad bike.

Pat stepped up. "Robin left to get the vicar. Said he thought of a good way to get him down the hill."

"What?" Lady B swirled around to focus on Pat who immediately put up his hands in a pacifying manner.

"No idea what he meant," he said quickly before Lady B could roast him further.

"Unbelievable." Lady B threw up her hands.

"Here. Hold these." The Captain dumped the fairy lights into Humphrey's arms. "I'm going to get a ladder." He marched out of the room. He was clearly a man on a mission.

"Has everyone just gone mad?" Lady B wanted to know. She looked quite mad herself. "And where have you been?"

They turned to see Julian stride into the room, dressed in a garish red Nike tracksuit.

"Who? Me?"

"I will not stand for all this indiscipline," Lady B squealed. "Get to work. All of you." Then she stormed off.

"Well, she's a bit high-strung, isn't she?" Julian chuckled. "Who pissed on her Weetabix this morning? Was it the Captain? I bet it was the Captain. Nobody can get her riled up like he can." He shrugged. "Admire him for that actually."

Somebody cleared their throat behind him and Julian whirled around. "Oh, hi Captain."

The Captain, carrying a ladder in his arms, glowered at him, then at his tracksuit. "And I thought Humphrey's tie was bad," he mumbled. Probably intentionally loud enough for everyone to hear.

He snapped the ladder into position. "Right. Let's get to work."

Humphrey, since he was still holding the fairy lights, was coerced into helping the Captain attach them to little hooks on the ceiling and the chandelier. Well, he was told to hold the ladder while the Captain stood on top of it and did the actual work. So he got to watch Pat and Thomas carry in the floral arrangements while Julian did absolutely nothing whatsoever.

"Yeah, a little bit higher," the Captain instructed him a little later. Humphrey held in his hands a thick rope the string lights were somehow attached to. With it he could adjust the height of the lights strung across the room. Don't ask him how it worked. He hadn't paid attention to whatever mechanism the Captain had concocted up during the set-up.

"We want lovely long loops like waves across the space," the Captain went on as he stood there in the glow of the fairy lights. "Don't you think, Julian?"

"Hmm," was Julian's elaborate response. "Are there bridesmaids?"

"You better behave yourself, mate." Pat set down a little vase with roses in different shades of pink. "We've all heard about you."

Oh boy, had they. Mostly from Julian himself.

Kitty bustled into the room to announce that the bride and her father have arrived. None of them were really sure what to do with that information, so the Captain instructed her to let Lady Button know.

"Oh, she knows," Kitty said. "She told the bride she could have the office to get ready. But I don't know what she would get ready with. It didn't look like she had brought a dress."

"Wasn't she wearing a dress?" Pat asked.

Kitty shook her head. "No, she's wearing a lovely white suit."

"Oh God," the Captain sighed and strode out of the room.

Everyone else followed him, leaving Humphrey behind, still holding the fairy lights.

"Wait for me," he called. There was a convenient hook on the wall that he used to wrap the rope around and hold the lights in place. That would probably do. Then he ran after the others.

When he finally got downstairs to the drawing room, he found them gathered around the windows. Lady B was nowhere to be seen, so the issue with the missing dress had either already resolved itself or was still hanging in the balance. Humphrey joined the Captain at one of the windows. Pat, Kitty, Julian, Thomas and Mary had all pressed themselves together to be able to look out of the one next to it.

Outside, a large vehicle was parked right by the fountain. It looked like an army truck really. Out of the back hopped a young woman dressed in a dark red-purplish dress. And then another and another.

"Oi, oi, bridesmaids?" Julian chuckled. "Let the wedding commence." Humphrey turned just in time to see him do a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows and run his hand through his wild hair.

Kitty gasped. "Those are the bridesmaids? But they're wearing burgundy, just like me."

Humphrey leaned forward to confirm that she was indeed wearing a dress in a similar colour to that of the poor women standing around in the blizzard outside.

"Wonderful choice," the Captain spoke up next to him. "The darker shade as if to frame the glowing white of the beautiful bride without upstaging her." His voice got softer with every word as he looked out of the window with glazed eyes.

"You what?" Pat turned sharply to regard the Captain with a suspicious glance. Humphrey had to agree. It appeared more and more likely that the Captain had taken some drugs this morning.

"Does this mean I'm a bridesmaid?" Kitty asked. "Can I be a bridesmaid?"

"Oh." Humphrey watched as a woman in a flowy white dress got out of the passenger seat of a sedan that had just pulled up. "Another bride? Is this a double wedding?" He really should pay more attention during the staff meetings if he had missed that.

The Captain leaned forward. "No, they are marrying each other." He bounced up on his toes.

"Oh really?" Pat managed to put a smile into the tone of his voice. "That's lovely."

The Captain hummed.

"What are you all gawking at?" Came Lady B's voice from behind them. They all turned to her in a weirdly synchronised way. "We have tasks to complete."

"But there are two brides. So beautiful," Kitty gushed, swinging her arms from side to side.

"What?" Lady B stormed over to the more crowded of the windows, pushing poor little Pat out of the way. "What on earth is going on?"

Humphrey regarded her shocked expression thoughtfully. "Did you not know there were going to be two brides?"

"I most certainly did not."

"Even the Captain knew." And that was saying something.

"You knew?" Lady B whirled around to glare at the Captain who immediately stepped backwards and stumbled over Humphrey's feet in the process. Humphrey held out his arms in reflex and helped the other man right himself.

"Yes? I though-"

"And you did not tell me?"

"Well, I-I thou-thought that...maybe you... h-had maybe..." The Captain cowered ever further away. Humphrey had seen him flustered before but never had it been this bad. Tripping over feet and words like that.

"You thought, did you?" Lady B sneered.

The Captain's shoulder sacked. He frowned down at the hardwood floor for a moment and then stomped past everyone out into the foyer and the corridor beyond. The front door opened just as he had disappeared from view and the bride and the burgundy bridesmaids stepped into the house in a flurry of snowflakes.

"Get back to work, everyone." Lady B told them and strode into the entrance hall.

The rest of them were left to stand in a stunned silence for a bit as they listened to Lady B greet the bridal party courteously. She wasn't going to send them back into the snow, was she?

Pat tiptoed his way over to Humphrey. "What was that?" He whispered.

"No idea," Humphrey muttered back.

He peered out of the window again. Snow was still falling, whirling through the air in thick white flakes. It was getting hard to see anything out there. He heard more than saw the bride and her bridesmaids bustle past them. Then he heard the front door open and close again.

A few seconds later a dark figure shuffled past the window outside. Humphrey, joined now by Pat, watched on in silence as the Captain, now dressed in a thick coat and ski trousers, climbed into the seat of his lawnmower that sat on the side of the driveway. It had a shovel blade attached to its front. The Captain put on ear defenders and turned on the engine. It's rumble could barely be heard through the windows as the Captain drove past. It was only a few seconds before he had completely disappeared from view.

Humphrey turned to Pat who just shrugged.

Eventually, the two of them found themselves upstairs again. Lady B had said that they had tasks to do but she had never specified what those tasks were, so they had helped with the set-up of the buffet for a bit before they had run out of things to do. Julian, finally dressed in a proper suit and his hair in a bit less of disarray, joined them where they stood towards the back of the ballroom and watched as the guests filed in. Humphrey could not remember how many people had been on the guest list but it had been a lot more than there were currently in the room.

"I recognise him," Pat spoke up, probably a bit too loudly. "Do you recognise him?" He pointed at a red-haired bloke in a blue suit that had just entered the room and was now beginning a conversation with an elderly couple near the giant floral arrangement that the Captain had called a 'flower grenade' earlier.

"Uuuuuhhh." Julian was too busy staring at a woman in a very yellow dress.

"Where do I know him from? Is he off the telly?" Pat tapped his thighs in thought.

"Uh, yeah, could be." Julian had definitely honed in on the yellow lady. "I'm gonna talk to the beautiful banana." He straightened his tie and sauntered off.

Humphrey made a subtle retching sound.

"Oh look." Pat pointed at the door to their left. A man with thinning hair and entirely dressed in black, professionally identified by Humphrey as the vicar by the white collar bit, bustled in, followed by a grinning Robin.

"That took a while," Humphrey commented as the guests were visibly cheered by the arrival of a member of the clergy. An elderly woman who was barely able to sit upright, immediately commandeered the poor vicar into sitting with her.

"He want to do hill again." Robin pulled off the coat he was wearing. Some fur monstrosity that was probably illegal to own. But Robin has had it for years. How did one even clean a thing like that?

"Do the hill again?" Pat leaned over, got a sniff of Robin's coat and immediately leaned back again.

"Yeah, we go on sled-" Robin's tongue tripped up a bit. "sle-, uh, sledge."

"A sledge?" Humphrey could not even remember the last time he had seen a sledge, leave alone been on one.

"You forced the poor man to go down a hill on a sledge?" Pat was equally scandalised.

Robin crossed his arms in defiance and stuck out his bottom lip for good measure. "He love it. He said: Do again."

"Well." Pat swallowed thickly. "You got here in one piece. That's all that matters, right?"

"Yeah, we start wedding."

"We do need the brides for that," Humphrey pointed out. The room was decidedly bride-less. Were they waiting outside in the hall?

"Oh, more dan one wife-y?" Robin was delighted. "Monono- mmh, mogona-"

"Monogamy?" Pat supplied helpfully.

"Yeah, dat. Stupid. Just do it."

"Ookay?" Pat's smile was strained. His wife had not believed in monogamy either, after all. Would have been the right thing to let Pat know before their wedding though.

"Are we sure everything is actually ready?" Humphrey asked to bring everyone's attention to the matter at hand. "Because the wedding hasn't started."

Some of the guests seemed to have come to the same conclusion as they began turning their heads to look around the room, clearly searching for something. The vicar managed to finally disentangle his hand from the elderly lady and strode over to them with quick steps.

"I'm very sorry. You work here, right?"

Humphrey nodded. Which did not mean that they had any answers though.

"Oh good," the vicar sighed in relief. "Yes, I think I remember seeing you at the Open House last summer and you," he turned to Pat, "you came to the church to put up a poster a few weeks ago."

"Sure did," Pat said, smiling unnecessarily brightly.

"Yes, um, I was just wondering," the vicar went on, wringing his hands. He was probably resisting the urge to fall onto his knees and pray. "Are we going to start soon? It's just that ..." He cleared his throat. "I haven't written my Sunday sermon yet, bit of a procrastinator you see, and I'd been planning to do it this afternoon. But with the weather this bad, well, it's going to take me a while to get back and, well ...," he trailed off.

"Yeah, I'm gonna go check actually," Humphrey told him. Nothing against this man personally but members of the clergy always gave him the creeps. So he hurried downstairs in hopes of finding someone with answers. Or the brides.

He could hear Robin and Pat clatter down the Tudor stairs behind him. Lady B was standing in the middle of the drawing room. And she was absolutely livid.

"Where on earth have you been?" She hollered with such volume that the wedding guests would have heard her even if they had been at the church up on the hill.

Humphrey decided that it was safest to remain standing just on the threshold to the room. "Upstairs. Waiting for the service to start. The vicar's arrived."

"There won't be a service," Lady B told him, still too loudly.

"Why not?" Pat squeezed himself onto the scene beside Humphrey.

"One of the brides is missing."

Oh.

"Oh. That's not good." Pat was very much on fire with perception.

"It's a disaster, Patrick. The first Button House wedding and it's turning into an episode of Loose Women."

"Maybe she on toilet?" Robin spoke up from behind them. He made no move to enter the room either, happy to solve the problem from the drafty entryway.

"That's where I found one of them," Lady B told them, somewhat calmer now. "And then the other one went missing too. Honestly."

Just then, the front door opened with a whoosh and then a bang when it hit Robin, who had been standing in its way, in the back and who now stumbled forward into Pat and Humphrey.

"Apologies."

Humphrey righted himself and then his brother, careful not to come into close contact with the fur coat, before turning to whoever had entered the house so violently.

The person had managed to close the door against the onslaught of snowflakes and now stood in the foyer not really doing anything other than staring at them.

"Hi Cap," Pat greeted the human ice lolly standing on the doormat.

The Captain looked like he had just returned from the front in Russia. Snow clung to his jacket and trousers, ice crystals were stuck in his hair and moustache and there might even have been a mini icicle on the end of his bright red nose.

He only grunted in response to Pat's greeting before beginning to peel off his thick gloves.

"Captain." Lady B managed to push past without touching any of them. "It's an absolute scandal."

"What is?" The Captain slowly unzipped his thick coat to reveal his trusty fleece jacket underneath. "Two women getting married to each other?"

"More like both women running off at the last minute. And not with each other."

The Captain let his coat fall to the floor without care. "Well, they can't have gone very far. It's very unpleasant out there. So you'll find them eventually." He knelt down, the crunch of his knees tuned out by the shifting fabric of his ski trousers. He hissed when he attempted to undo the laces of his boots with clearly frozen fingers.

"What do you mean 'you'?" Lady B squealed. "You ought to help in the search. The guests are all upstairs and are unaware that anything is wrong. The other bride is with her father in the library. So we need to conduct the search."

"Okay, go do that." The Captain hissed again as he tried to bend his fingers.

"And what are you going to do?"

"I'm just going to sit here for a bit." The Captain let himself drop onto his behind, stretched out his legs and held up his frozen hands.

"You are impossible." Lady B turned on her heel and glided off.

"Sure," the Captain mumbled from his perch on the ground. "What else is new?" Then he sat there and stared at his feet.

"I help?" Robin knelt down next to him and reached for the laces on the Captain's boots.

"No." The Captain pulled his legs to his chest. He glared at all of them in turn.

"Okay, you be baby. I go find wife-y." Robin stood up and left for the drawing room.

The Captain grunted and kicked out his feet again, arms now folded over his chest. He looked very much the adult embodiment of a pouting toddler.

"Okay, we'll leave you to it then, yeah?" Pat pulled on Humphrey's sleeve to lead him away. "Let us know when you need help," he yelled over his shoulder.

"He really is a baby," Humphrey whispered once they were well into the drawing room and definitely out of earshot.

Pat put his hands on his hips. "If Lady B treated me like that, I'd be angry too."

"Yeah, what was that about?" Humphrey had been made witness to quite a few arguments between the Captain and Lady B and now that he thought about it, he did wonder why the Captain was being yelled at for the disappearance of a bride he had probably never even met.

Humphrey waited for an answer or at least a guess, maybe some gossipy speculation but when none came, he turned to find Pat staring off into space.

His features had darkened. "That's unbelievable."

"What is?" Humphrey swirled around to see what Pat was looking at. There wasn't anything or anyone there. Except the sofas that were always there and a large wooden frame that held small white cards with the names of all the attending guests. Or those that had originally been planning on attending. Many names had been crossed out after they had called to cancel due to weather-related issues.

"How dare he come into my home?" Pat was turning a bit too red to be safe.

"What? Who? What's going on?"

Humphrey watched the way Pat's hands turned into angry fists with trepidation. He did not get a response except for offended spluttering, so he looked at the guest list more closely. It wasn't Pat's ex and her bloke, right? Marcus or whatever his name was?

Pat was starting to shake at this point. He looked like an angry little cannonball. "How. Dare. He."

Just then, one of the guests wandered in from the main staircase. He made for the drinks table. Humphrey only realised that it was the bloke Pat had had trouble recognising earlier when Pat was already on his way over to him.

Humphrey followed without really thinking about it. The way Pat was still balling his fists, he wasn't out for a tender heart-to-heart. Probably.

"Can I help you?" The bloke had come to a stop when he had noticed the livid little man pummel towards him.

That question made Pat halt in his tracks and give Humphrey the chance to catch up to him. Pat's shoulders sacked about three stories.

"You're Keith Darren-Dean," Pat said.

"Yes?" The bloke looked behind him to search for someone to explain what was going on.

"It's me," Pat continued. "Pat Butcher."

A short pause. "Who?" Keith scrutinised Pat in a very obvious way but his face showed no recognition. No emotion at all really. Except for a twitch of the right eye.

"From school," Pat pressed on.

Keith laid his head to the side. "Really?"

"Yeah. We were in the same year. Back in Huddersfield." Pat's fists were still tightly wound but his eyes had gotten large and round.

"You sure? Sorry, what did you say your name was?"

"Pat. Butcher."

Keith shook his head. "No, sorry. Can't recall. Good to see you though, I guess." Then he walked past Pat to the drinks table.

And Humphrey would no longer have to wonder what absolute heartbreak looked like when it settled on Pat's face. It was quickly replaced by a furious expression. Humphrey just managed to lean out of the way as Pat spun on his heel and stormed after Keith.

"You bastard!"

"Pat." Humphrey hurried after him.

"Come here, ya scally."

Keith looked up from where he had bent down to retrieve a beer from a cooler underneath the table.

"You reprobate," Pat yelled.

Okay, Humphrey was a bit impressed at the array of insults used here. He should definitely widen his swearword horizon. He always had his three go-toes. Maybe Pat could give him a lesson.

"Those drinks were for later," Pat screeched on.

Keith did not seem nearly as affected as was probably warranted because he calmly used the provided bottle opener to open his beer.

Humphrey reached Pat just in time before he could do something stupid. Like punch one of the wedding guests in the face. Because that was definitely what Pat was about to do. His fist was already raised while the Keith bloke had finally seemed to realise that it was time to pay attention to the angry man storming towards him.

"No, let me go," Pat huffed when Humphrey wrapped his arm around the other man's middle to hold him back.

From the corner of his eye, Humphrey could see that Keith was backing away from the scene.

"No," Pat growled. "Get back here." He struggled in Humphrey's hold and Humphrey could feel him slipping out of his arm. Slippery bugger is probably what Pat would say.

"Stop it, Pat," is what Humphrey said instead. They moved from side to side as Pat tried to wriggle free.

"Let me show that wazzock."

Humphrey heard voices behind them but could not hear what they were saying over Pat's grunting.

"Pat, leave it," he ground out.

"Never," Pat bit back, putting even more strength into his movements. God damn it. How was he not running out of steam? Humphrey was definitely winded at this point.

"Oh, we be having fights now? Lets me show you how it be done."

That did cease their struggle briefly and they watched as Mary determinedly strode towards the Captain. The man stood a few metres away from Humphrey and Pat, still half dressed in his outerwear, and watched Mary's approach with wide eyes.

"No, thank you, Mary," he said hurriedly and stepped backwards when it became apparent that Mary was indeed about to rugby-tackle him to the ground. He found refuge behind a sofa near the fireplace.

"Aw," Mary pouted. "Maybe laters?"

A weird whining noise escaped the Captain and he cowered further back.

Mary turned to Pat and Humphrey with a grin. Pat had ceased all his struggling and wriggling, so they were basically standing there locked in a strange kind of hug. Keith was no longer in the room.

"Sorry," Pat mumbled as he extracted himself from Humphrey's hold.

"What was that?" Humphrey asked. He watched Pat closely in case the other man decided to throw hands after all.

But Pat's shoulders slumped and he pushed his glasses up on his forehead to rub his eyes. "Sorry," he said again.

When he returned his glasses to their normal perch and pulled his hands away from his face, Humphrey could see the tears in Pat's blue eyes. He made to move closer and maybe offer a hug but Pat held up his hand to stop him. So Humphrey backed off.

"I be checkings the book rooms again," Mary announced and left for the library. Oh yes, there was still a missing bride.

Pat cleared his throat when they were finally alone. "That man was a big bully back at school," he said softly. "Made my life miserable for years."

"Oh." Humphrey didn't know what to do with his hands so he stuffed them in his pockets.

"Yeah." Pat shuffled his feet. "Spread nasty rumours about me, stuffed my sports gear down the toilet. Told his friends to beat me up once or twice" He looked up. "But you know what was the worst bit just now?" Pat's tears were on the verge of escaping.

Humphrey shook his head.

"That he didn't even recognise me. He didn't even remember me." The tears spilled over. "How can you not remember making other people's life hell?"

"Oh, he remembers."

Humphrey turned to find the Captain hovering near the doorway. The man looked at them with a furrowed brow, then immediately startled when he finally seemed to realise that he had spoken up.

"Sorry, I'll leave," he mumbled and hung his head, shuffling to the door noisily. He was still wearing his ski trousers.

"He remembers?" Pat wondered.

It made the Captain stop in his tracks and turn to them again. "He definitely does." He shrugged and took a tentative step towards them. If Lady B saw that he was still wearing his snow boots and had stepped onto the rug near the sofas with them, heads would roll. The Captain's head at least. But with Humphrey's luck, he'd get caught in the middle of it and join him in his fate.

"Oh." Pat's lip wobbled and fresh tears built up.

"He was probably embarrassed," Humphrey suggested.

"Wazzock," Pat sniffed.

"Yeah," Humphrey agreed.

The Captain cleared his throat and ran his hand through his greying hair.

"Do you want a hug?" Humphrey asked, raising his arms in invitation.

"Yeah, think so." Pat stepped into the embrace without hesitation.

Behind them, Humphrey could hear a choke and a thump and when he looked up, the Captain was gone. He held Pat for quite a while until the shorter man extracted himself with a tentative smile, still sniffling.

"Ta, mate," Pat mumbled.

"Yeah, any time." Humphrey grinned down at him. "Are you still going to punch him? Because I'll be second in line." He did not condone violence as a general solution for problems but some people just needed a right hook to the nose.

"Lady B wouldn't approve, I don't think." Pat swung his arms around as he starting grinning as well. He was quickly returning to his cheerful self.

"Hm, yeah, probably. Maybe we can throw cake at him or something."

Pat snorted. "I think I need a cuppa after all of this."

Humphrey agreed and so they spent a few blissfully quiet minutes waiting for their tea to brew. They were prepared to look busy in case Lady B walked in.

"Me found white lady!"

Robin whirlwinded into the room and stopped in front of them. "Well, Captain found white lady but he no tell no one. He hide wif her."

"Where is she then?" Pat asked, already following Robin out of the room.

Humphrey trailed after them too. The poor thing probably didn't need all these strangers gawking at her during her crisis. But she might need rescuing from the Captain's emotional constipation, so Humphrey would offer a helping hand. Maybe offer a tissue. He did not actually have any on his person but if things were dire, the handkerchief in the breast pocket of his suit jacket would probably do.

"She in room from guy with many wives," Robin told them over his shoulder. "He not do mohogany, mohana- magona-" He came to a frustrated stop. "Stupid word."

"Monogamy again?"

"Yes, dat. He not do dat. But he like swan."

"You mean Henry VIII?" It had finally dawned on Humphrey what Robin was rambling about. They continued on their path towards the display rooms. "You do know that he didn't have all of those wives at the same time, right?" Not that old Henry had actually practiced monogamy but as a historian, Humphrey did not want his brother to run around and spread misinformation.

They arrived in the corridor that led to, among others, Henry VIII's dining room. The missing bride strode towards them, clearly in a hurry.

"Excuse me," she said as she hustled past, her white dress modest enough to not take up the entire hallway. "I need to get to my future wife." And before anyone could ask questions, she was gone.

"Okay?" Pat blinked after her. "Problem solved, I guess."

"They do it now?" Robin asked. "Make up?"

Humphrey could only despair at his brother's bluntness sometimes, so he shook his head.

"They probably wanna get married first, Robin," Pat said a little more diplomatically.

"Boring."

Footsteps behind them made them all turn around. The Captain, back in his suit trousers and shirt, walked towards them. He came to a stop about a metre away from them, making him an entirely separate entity to the huddle Pat, Robin and Humphrey had found themselves in when the bride had pushed past them.

"What you say to white lady?"

The Captain laid his head to the side. "She had questions about the swan."

Pat made a squeaking sound. "She ran off to stare at a giant plastic roast swan?"

Oh good, Humphrey wasn't the only one who found that weird. She had been missing for ages. They had almost had a whole boxing match in between.

The Captain shrugged and looked down at the wooden floorboards. "Sometimes that's all I want to do."

"You what?"

The Captain looked up and then over his shoulder. "What?" As if he wasn't the one being weird right now.

"We go watch 'em do it?"

Okay, not the only weird one. Humphrey rolled his eyes.

"Watch 'em do wedding," Robin clarified after Pat's horrified gasp had rung out.

"Yeah, let's go," Humphrey said even though he really wanted to know what had happened in Henry's dining room. Had the Captain and the bride had a super meaningful conversation about feelings and stuff or had they just traded roast swan recipes? Because Humphrey could not really picture the Captain do either.

The man in question followed them, with a noticeable gap.

"I got cold feet at my wedding, too," Pat said.

Robin nodded. "Yeah, is very cold today."

"It's a metaphor, Robin," the Captain spoke up from behind them.

"You're a metaphor," Robin grumbled.

"There you all are," Thomas said when they arrived back in the drawing room. "The wedding's about to start. We're just waiting for Kitty. She's still getting ready."

"Why is the wedding being delayed for Kitty?" Pat asked.

"Oh, one of the bridesmaids was forced to cancel and so the brides asked her to step in. Since she's wearing a similar colour dress. To even out the numbers."

"Oh, that's marvellous," the Captain commented and then blinked owlishly.

"Oh, is it going to take long?" Pat was eyeing the drinks table and Humphrey was definitely getting the sentiment.

"Why does she need to get ready if she's already wearing the dress?" He asked.

"Oh, um." Thomas grimaced. "She was so overwhelmed with excitement that she ... she evacuated her stomach contents. Into a floral display."

The Captain squeaked. "Not the flower grenade I hope."

"No, one out in the hall, luckily. The guests were not forced to witness the drama. They are being tortured by a retelling of the vicar's best wedding stories." Thomas sighed. "Lady Button should have let me perform 'Hermione and Roger' instead."

Humphrey, Robin and the Captain all rushed out "No". They did not need to see or hear that ever again. Humphrey was still contemplating seeing a therapist for the trauma. And they had only seen a small excerpt.

"Hermione and Roger?" Pat asked and turned to them. "What's that?"

"My grandest work." Thomas spread out his arms dramatically. "A story of love and heartbre- hey, where are you going?"

Even Pat had quickly realised that this was something better not endured and followed them all upstairs.

"Humphrey," the Captain said, coming to a stop just outisde the ballroom. Pat just managed not to crash into him.

"Yeah, what?"

"Your tie," the Captain nodded to Humphrey's shoulder. "It's still ... un-straight."

Humphrey was surprised he had not lost it in all this time. He pulled the fabric off his shoulder and held it up, grinning. "Well, it is a gay wedding, so ..."

The Captain groaned. "I think I want to go stare at the swan again." And he actually made to go back down the stairs. Until he heard Thomas on the steps, still calling after them. Then the Captain contemplated the railing he was standing next to. He looked ready to throw himself off the landing.

Humphrey turned to Pat. "Can you help me? I'm not good with these." He usually left his ties hanging in his wardrobe loosely tied, so he could just slip them on. He had no idea what had happened to this one.

"Oh." Pat blinked down at the tie Humphrey was holding out to him. "Erm, actually..." He pulled on his glasses.

"Give it here," the Captain growled, back from his impending suicide. He pulled the tie out of Humphrey's hand and ordered him to pull up his collar. He glanced at the railing again.

"I thought you're good with knots," Humphrey said, turning his head to look at Pat to avoid thinking about the way the Captain was suddenly standing very close to him but still further away than was probably practical to actually perform the tie-tying. It was just very close for the Captain's standards.

"Yeah, with ropes." Pat smiled sheepishly. "Cannot ever remember me tie knots."

The Captain's frown lines deepened and Humphrey feared that he was about to get strangled with his own tie. Shame, it wasn't even his favourite.

He could have sworn he heard the Captain mumble words like 'bunny' and 'hole' as he knotted the tie into place. The Captain stepped back to admire his work and nodded to himself.

Then he retreated further back, almost bumping into Thomas who had just reached the top of the staircase.

"Let's get married," Pat cheered enthusiastically and they all followed him into the ballroom where the vicar was in the middle of an invigorating story. The atmosphere was boiling over with awkward coughs and shuffling feet.

Lady B stormed towards them when she spotted them. "Finally," she whispered, clearly still agitated. "Who is responsible for the music?"

"The DJ probably?" Humphrey guessed, leaning to the side to see past her where the vicar was leaning against the DJ's turntables. A bloke had come by yesterday to set it up. There were lights and stuff too.

"The DJ," Lady B spat out, "is unable to attend. He is stuck in traffic. Behind the wreck with the wedding planner."

"Oh, I can be the DJ." Pat had raised his hand. "Used to fill in for me mate, sometimes. At the local radio station." And then he started singing. "The greatest DJ in the aareeeeaaaaaaa, Paaat Buutcheeeerrr."

He did not even seem to notice that everyone, including every single guest in the room, was staring at him now as he skipped over to the DJ station. He got to work on the turntable immediately. The vicar breathed a visible sigh of relief and dabbed his forehead with a white handkerchief.

"Go check if the bride is- if the brides are ready," Lady B told the Captain, who was nudging a flower arrangement into place with his foot. His frown told Humphrey that he was preparing to deliver a counterargument or, at the very least, a childish retort. Lady B seemed to have had the same thought because she quickly added, "We do not need any more distractions. Keep them focused. You're good at that."

The Captain appeared placated enough to stride off with a sharp nod. On his way to the door at the other end of the room, he stopped twice to pull an empty chair into formation and rearrange some flowers. Lady B's compliment was as unfounded as some of Robin's conspiracy theories. The Captain disappeared into the hallway for only ten seconds before he stuck his head around the doorway again and gave a thumbs-up.

Abba's Dancing Queen began playing before the song stopped abruptly and Pat yelled, "Sorry!" The wedding march started seconds later. Humphrey, Thomas and Robin scrambled to find seats in the empty rows in the back where Julian was already lounging. Mary joined them from where she had squeezed past the Captain into the room.

"The bride not be wearing a dress," she announced, positively scandalised. "That be a bad omen for the nuptials."

Any response was drowned out by the music that Pat had turned up a bit too enthusiastically. "Sorry," he yelled again.

Lady B, where she was standing to the side, buried her face in her hands.

But then the brides, hands joined tightly, smiles wide, entered the room. Four bridesmaids, including a beaming Kitty, followed after them. The ceremony had begun.

"Mission accomplished," the Captain whispered when he sat down next to Humphrey.

Humphrey did not point out that there was still a lot that could go wrong today because the Captain looked up at the lights the two of them had hung up earlier and underneath his moustache Humphrey detected the barest hint of a smile.

"What are you doing?" The Captain asked a few hours later.

The party was in full swing and he had suddenly shown up in Humphrey and Pat's little corner. DJ Butcher had set up a playlist and now had a bit of time on his hands, so they had decided to go ahead with their mission to make Keith Darren-Dean's life a bit more miserable.

"Nothing," Humphrey said and stuffed a bit of cake into his mouth with his hand. He had planned on throwing it but he did not want to get caught red-handed.

"Hm." The Captain's eyes had narrowed into suspicious slits.

"Just eatin' cake in the corner," Pat supplied. He definitely had been eating cake because there were some crumbs stuck in his moustache. "Want some?" He held up his plate.

"No." The Captain was still frowning. "Why were you staring at that man?"

"We weren't," Pat said immediately. Maybe a bit too immediately.

Humphrey wanted to point out that the Captain must have been staring at them if he had caught them staring at someone else but he had a feeling that that would not go over well. And he caught himself thinking that he wouldn't actually mind if the Captain stayed a bit longer, so Humphrey kept schtum.

"What are you planning?" The Captain turned to watch Keith converse with the yellow lady Julian had tried to chat up earlier.

"Nothing," Humphrey told him but the second he glanced at Pat he knew that the other man was already folding under the Captain's intense stare.

"We were gonna throw cake at him," Pat squealed, holding up his plate to show his half-eaten slice.

"Right." The Captain's frown deepened. He turned on his heel and disappeared in the crowd.

"Paaat," Humphrey groaned. "He's gonna tell Lady B and the vicar and we're gonna burn in Hell for eternity. Or worse, lose our jobs." The vicar wasn't even there anymore. He had returned to the vicarage in the late afternoon when the road up the hill had finally been deemed safe enough to travel. And Humphrey didn't believe in God or Hell anyway. Lady B on the other hand was their very real boss.

"Here." The Captain reappeared, four plates with a slice of cake each balanced in his hands. "Ammunition," he said, pushing a plate into Pat's free hand.

He handed another one to Humphrey. The third plate he sat down next to Pat's laptop that was finally playing Abba's Dancing Queen in its full glory. Then he produced a fork from his trouser pocket and dug into the cake still in his hand. "What's the plan?"

"Oh." Humphrey finally realised what was happening. "Don't really have one. Just throw cake. Hopefully not get caught."

"Fanny will murder you," the Captain said before stuffing cake into his mouth. He kept his gaze fixed on Keith as he chewed.

"Is there a way to avoid that?" Pat asked.

"With a great amount of stealth," and the Captain had the audacity to glance at Humphrey as he said it, "we might succeed. Maybe even get some down the back of his shirt." He returned to watching Keith while Humphrey and Pat exchanged confused shrugs behind his back. What was happening?

"Okay," the Captain declared a few seconds later and sat down his now empty plate. He wiped his lower face with a napkin. "Here is what we're going to do."

Ten minutes later the three of them were back at the DJ station, now sat on the floor and leaning against the wall as they giggled themselves silly. Well, Pat and Humphrey were giggling, the Captain was much more composed. But his eyes were crinkling with mirth.

"Thanks guys," Pat finally managed to wheeze out.

Humphrey wrapped his arm around the other man's shoulders. The Captain hummed and pulled out more cake from somewhere. Not for ammunition apparently because he divided the slice into three equal pieces with a fork and put two of them on paper napkins before handing them over to a dumbfounded Humphrey and Pat. He had brought forks for them too.

They ate their cake and watched the ongoing party for a while. The song that was now playing was slower and quieter, so that they wouldn't have to speak as loudly as before.

"How'd you manage to get Mary involved?" Pat asked, now visibly calmer, his eyes still shining brightly.

"Oh." The Captain cleared his throat. "Told her it brings the couple luck if cake was thrown during the reception."

"Does it?" Pat had sat up a little straighter. Maybe no one had thrown cake at his wedding and that was now the explanation why everything had gone downhill. Nobody had thrown cake at Humphrey's wedding either for that matter.

"Probably not." The Captain shrugged. "I've never attended a wedding before, so I'm unfamiliar with the traditions."

"You've never been to a wedding before?" To be fair, Humphrey would not have invited Mister Grumpy Pants to his wedding either.

The Captain did not respond and just looked out into the crowd. His gaze seemed to be drawn in by two blokes who were holding each other as they swayed to the music. Humphrey watched him watch them. The Captain's eyes seemed to glaze over a bit and he sat there completely motionless, fingers tightly gripping the empty plate in his lap. He finally looked away when the song came to an end and the couple kissed.

Humphrey wanted to ask if he was alright but remained silent. He finished his cake instead.

"The lack of decorum in this house is causing me a great amount of distress."

Humphrey looked up to find Lady B looming over them. Beside him, the Captain sighed rather loudly.

"We have chairs for sitting on," she informed them as if they hadn't been the ones to carry them all in here in the first place. "Honestly, the disresp- Don't roll your eyes at me." Lady B lifted her finger in warning and glowered down at the Captain.

Humphrey was impressed that the man looked more annoyed than afraid. As if Lady B had no power over him. As if she wasn't the Lady of the house and he the gardener.

"And we are lacking plates for eating as well, are we?" Lady B nodded down at their little cake-on-paper-napkins picnic. "

"What do you want, Fanny?" The Captain snapped. He glared up at her with blazing eyes.

"For you to show some manners," Lady B retorted, with an equally fiery stare.

"Or what?" The Captain spit back.

Lady B's face turned red. "My office. Now."

Oh shit.

Humphrey and Pat sat in a stunned silence for a while after the Captain had struggled to his feet and followed Lady B out of the room. Whether he had actually gone down to her office with her or fled the scene to start a new life in another country was anyone's guess at this point.

"Do you think she's going to fire him?" Pat asked eventually. "Like for real?"

Humphrey recalled some of the louder quarrels he had witnessed between those two. Quite a few times he had been surprised to still find the Captain here afterwards. But this last exchange was definitely in the top-three of most intense arguments. Very short but intense.

"Probably not," he said, basing his response on past experiences.

"Oh." Pat frowned. "She looked very angry."

Why would the Captain challenge her like that? She had been on edge all day, the better part of the week really. The preparations for the wedding had finally caused cracks to show in her stoic facade and the Captain, instead of keeping his mouth shut and duck, had gone in with a wrecking ball.

"I'm starting to believe that she can't just fire him," Humphrey said. "And he knows it."

"Why can't she? It's her house, her estate, isn't it?" Pat pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs.

"No idea. Some weird contract maybe. She got the house after the divorce from her husband. Who knows what kind of obligations they worked in there."

"To keep the gardener employed for life?" Pat scrunched up his nose. "How long has the Captain been here?"

Humphrey shrugged and got up. "No clue. Do you want a beer? I want a beer."

He trundled down the stairs to get to the back-up cooler. There were two coolers with drinks upstairs but as a non-guest he felt obliged to take the longer route. And maybe he just wanted to get away from the noise for a while. He could hear Pat pick up his role as DJ again and announce an especially cheesy love song over the loudspeakers.

"Thanks for helping me out earlier," came a voice from the barely-lit drawing room.

Humphrey tiptoed over to the doorway and carefully poked his head inside. It took him a few seconds to see two figures standing near the windows. One was definitely the Captain. His silvery hair and straight posture were dead giveaways. But it wasn't him that had spoken.

"I don't know what that bloke wanted from me," the other man continued. "Never met him before."

The Captain did not respond. Humphrey could not see his face, so he had no idea what the Captain might be thinking.

And then Humphrey realised who the other man was. Keith. Darren-Dean. He was no longer wearing his suit jacket because Pat, Humphrey and the Captain, with the help from Mary, had done a good job ruining it earlier.

"I was wondering if I could thank you." Keith swayed a little as he leaned forward to stroke the Captain's arm.

The Captain stepped back and broke the contact immediately. He remained deathly silent.

"Come on." Keith followed his movement. "I saw you watching Kevin and Rob all day. They're lovely together, aren't they?" Keith leaned in further. The Captain did not move away this time.

"We could have that," Keith went on, tugging on the Captain's elbow. "At least for tonight? You and me?"

Humphrey could hear the Captain's shuddering breath all the way across the room.

"Come on. Let's find a quiet room, yeah?" Keith grabbed the Captain's hand with his own.

The Captain slowly lowered his head to stare at their joined hands for a few seconds. Then he lifted his gaze to look over his shoulder. Humphrey ducked away and hoped that he had not been spotted. But when he dared to look back into the room, the Captain was staring at the closed door to the library.

"Alright," he finally said. He let Keith pull him out of the room and away from Humphrey.

Who could only stare after them in shock.

Chapter Text

"Hiya, mate," Pat greeted the Captain.

He had walked into the field where the Captain was lurking near the unlit bonfire. It was mid afternoon and festivities for Bonfire Night were still a few hours away.

Pat had watched Robin and the Captain assemble the bonfire from inside the house all morning while he was technically working until Lady Button had granted him permission to join them. He had practically run outside after that to provide tips on how to arrange the wood for the safest and most efficient bonfire out there.

Robin had followed his instructions willingly, grumbling things like "I tell him dat" and "Me know fire" as he stacked the logs of wood accordingly. The Captain on the other hand, had questioned every step of the process until he, under Pat's stern gaze that he usually reserved for unruly toddlers, had admitted that he had never built a bonfire before and had been completely relying on a YouTube video he had watched the night before.

Pat and Robin had returned to the house after the bonfire had been erected. The Captain had opted to stay outside. In the cold. By himself. So Pat, when the Captain still had not come inside after two hours, , had gotten out his trusty thermos and two small bags of crisps before marching out to join him. The other man was clearly planning on standing out in a field next to a pile of wood for the rest of the afternoon and somebody had to go and save him.

Dante had met Pat at the front door and begged to be let out which Pat only allowed after holding correspondence with Lady Button. The dog had raced across the lawn, clumsily climbed over the lowest plank of the fence and then sped into the field, barking happily. The Captain had turned at the sound and greeted the dog with a detailed scratch behind the floppy ears. He had then watched Pat make his way across the field with an ever more pronounced frown.

The Captain was now frowning down at the mug Pat was holding out to him.

"It's tea, mate," Pat told him patiently.

"Yes. Why?"

"Cause tea's nice? And it's cold out." Pat had layered up before coming out here. The air was cold and wet, a persistent fog still hanging around even this late in the day. Nothing like the winter wonderland they had experienced two weeks ago.

"Hm," the Captain said eloquently. He looked like the cold was getting to him a bit. He wasn't wearing a hat and his ears had turned red. His hands were stuffed deep into the pockets of his winter coat. The Captain's eyebrows were descending ever further downwards at he stared at the steaming mug. "So you made tea? For me?"

"Yeah, thought you could use something to keep you warm."

"Why?"

It was Pat's turn to frown. "Cause it's cold out here." This conversation was in a bit of danger of turning into a circle. "Go on then." Pat pushed the mug further into the Captain's space. The other man was forced to free his hands and accept it, lest its contents be spilled all over his jacket.

"You did not have to do that," the Captain muttered in lieu of a 'thank you'. He scrutinised the tea and lifted the mug up to take a careful sip. He had to pinch his eyes closed against the steam that was rising from the hot liquid.

Belatedly, Pat realised that the tea was the wrong colour. Well, the wrong colour in the Captain's opinion at least. Pat had made sure it was the colour of a buff envelope. Quite hard to do in a thermos. He hadn't quite known how much milk to add. But now he was reminded of the argument he and the Captain had had a few months ago. He tried to remember what colour the Captain described his preferred tea as but Pat could not recall. He was pretty sure though that the other man drank his brew without any milk at all.

But the Captain now blew on the contents of the mug as he looked out towards the tree line at the edge of the property that bordered onto the main street to the village. He took a small sip without batting an eyelash. His moustache twitched a bit but he continued to watch the trees.

"Thank you, Patrick," the Captain said quietly, barely audible over Dante's excited yapping as the dog explored the bonfire. They'd have to make sure that the little guy was safely locked away when they lit the thing.

"No worries, mate." Pat filled up his own mug with tea. "Why do you keep looking out at the trees?" He asked. "Do you expect an army of wild teens to storm the field?"

The Captain had mentioned local youths gone rogue a few times this morning as they had set up the bonfire and some tables and benches for people to sit at and enjoy their apple cider and pie that Mary and Kitty were busy baking right this minute.

"Arrows."

"What?"Pat turned to gape at the Captain.

The Captain took another careful sip of tea. "I'm looking out for arrows. Lit on fire."

"Really? Sounds a bit unlikely, mate." What did teenagers these days get up to?

"It's what I did," said the Captain in the most nonchalant way he had ever said anything.

Pat almost dropped his mug in shock."Excuse me?"

"I shot flaming arrows at the bonfires. When I was a teenager."

"Why would you do such a thing?"

"Something to do, wasn't it?" The Captain's almost smile was hidden away behind the mug as he drank another mouthful of tea.

"Didn't take you for an archer."

"I'm really not," the Captain said. "I was quite bad at it actually. Almost set a house on fire instead once."

"Where'd you get the bow and arrows from?" Pat decided to ignore the fact that the Captain was implying he had done this more than once. And he was beginning to wonder if the stories the Captain had told this morning were actually accounts of his own escapades instead of those of local youths.

The Captain's moustache twitched again and Pat could definitely detect a grin underneath. "Stole it all from the Scouts." The Captain turned to glance at him just as Pat gasped. "The local Scout group used our school grounds for their meetings. Broke into their supply cupboard." He took a very casual sip of tea.

"Unbelievable." Pat shook his head.

Pat could already tell that the event was a success. The Captain had come forth a few minutes ago to light the bonfire with a flaming torch. It would have looked all dramatic if not for the disgruntled expression on the Captain's face. He had looked like he would have rather been anywhere else than here in this field that he had spent all afternoon in. Pat had seen him and Lady Button in another one of their debates just beforehand, so that might have been the reason for the grumpiness.

Now, Pat pushed through the crowd, looked like at least half the village had turned up, to get to the Captain. Maybe cheer him up a bit. He had grabbed two beers from the cooler under the table where Mary, Kitty and Thomas were selling drinks and pie.

"This is quite the horde, wouldn't you say?" Lady Button was saying. She and the Captain were standing a little to the side, away from where most of the crowd was gathered around the fire.

"Hm." The Captain had his hands stuffed in his coat pockets and watched two shrieking children run past.

They almost bowled Pat over in their excitement. He smiled when they apologised and told them to be careful.

"Well, at least nobody dared to set anything on fire before we were ready," Lady Button commented, wearing a frown that matched the Captain's.

"Any efforts would have been in vain," the Captain said, still trying to follow the children's path with his eyes. "I know all their tricks, Fanny."

Lady Button turned to scrutinise him with narrowed eyes. "Yes, you do, don't you?" Then she took her leave just as Pat reached them. He tried not to be offended.

"Lady Button knows about your youthful escapades?" He asked as he offered the Captain one of the beers he had brought.

A puzzled look flickered over the Captain's face. "Of course she does."

"Beer?" Pat asked because the Captain seemed to not have noticed the drink Pat was holding out to him.

"Oh." His gaze got stuck on the beer. "For me?"

Pat tried to think of a scenario where one held out a beer towards someone else without the intention of giving it to them. "Yes," he clarified because the Captain seemed to not have the same grasp on the situation. And then he pressed the can into the other man's hand, only letting go when he was certain that the Captain had finally taken hold of it.

"Thank you, Patrick."

"No worries."

Pat opened his own beer. There had been a distinct lack in Watney's in the coolers (people just had no taste these days), so he had been forced to select a Beck's. Looks like Humphrey had been in charge of ordering the beer for this event. Or maybe the Captain. They seemed to share a love for German beer.

Pat's gaze landed on the pair of ear defenders that hung around the Captain's neck. Pat knew that the other man usually wore them for lawn mowing activities. He wasn't planning on getting any gardening done tonight, was he? What was-

Oh. Oh. There would be fireworks later.

"You gonna be okay?" Pat let his eyes flicker down to the ear defenders.

"What?" It took the Captain a second to follow his gaze and train of thought. "Oh. Yes."

"Right." Pat leaned his head to one side and watched him closely.

The Captain sighed and moved his attention to the bonfire. His left hand played with the little hoop of his beer can that remained unopened. "Robin assured me that he did not get anything with loud explosions. Because of the animals."

"Oh. That's good." Pat loved Robin but did not trust the man to resist the temptation of loud explosions.

"These are just in case." Apparently the Captain didn't either.

"Okay?" Very sensible, Pat thought. But would the ear defenders be enough?

The Captain inhaled audibly. Twice. "I don't have PTSD or anything. If that's what you think."He paused. "I never saw active combat, you know."

"Oh, really?"

"No. I just don't like loud noises."

"Oh, yeah. I've noticed that."

The Captain turned to look at him, brows furrowed.

Pat shrugged. "You're a bit jumpy sometimes, mate."

"Oh, yes."

They watched the blazing bonfire for a while.

"So what did you do?" Pat asked, trying to sound casual instead of incredibly curious. "In the army? What was your rank?"

There was no answer and when Pat turned to the Captain, he found the other man staring at him with raised eyebrows.

Oh.

"That was a stupid question. Sorry." Pat slapped himself mentally. He was such a moron sometimes.

"Yes," the Captain said drily.

Pat snorted. And the Captain cracked a little smile.

Humphrey appeared on Pat's left side. "Want a beer?" He held up two unopened cans.

"Oh, we're alright for now, mate." Pat showed him the beer he was already nursing. "But in a bit definitely."

Humphrey instantly looked a bit miffed. "Yeah, alright." He stuffed one of the cans into his jacket pocket before opening the other with a crack and taking a sip. "Wanna get some apple pie? Mary said there's loads."

Pat thought it odd how Humphrey was outright staring at him, his gaze not flickering over to the Captain even once.

"Yeah, let's go." Pat turned to the Captain. "Come on, Cap."

"Ye-" The Captain stepped forward but then aborted any and all movement, adopting a very straight posture instead. "N-no thank you, Patrick. I-I think I'll check to make sure that ... that the bonfire is up to regulations." His gaze flickered over to the fire for a second but he made no move towards it.

"Oh, you sure?" Pat noticed the Captain's fidgety bounce as soon as it started.

"Ye-yes. Quite sure. Thank you for the beer, Patrick." The Captain held up the drink he was clutching in his hand.

"Okay." Pat tried not to sound too disappointed. If the Captain did not want to spend time with them, they could not force him. Only give him a nudge to make him realise that they appreciated his presence. "I'll see you later then, yeah?"

"Yes." With that, the Captain abruptly turned on his heel and strode away.

Pat turned to follow Humphrey but found the other man watching the Captain leave with a glower.

"Everything alright?" Pat asked.

Humphrey's gaze met Pat's and his features brightened instantly. "Yes, just fine. Let's go get pie." Humphrey grabbed Pat's arm to pull him along.

Everything was definitely not 'just fine'. Even Pat, and he would not call himself the most perceptive of fellows, had noticed how the air between Humphrey and the Captain had shifted to frosty over the last week or so. Pat had thought (and hoped) that the two of them would get along swimmingly once they had gotten to know each other. They were both very sarcastic, although it was hard to tell sometimes if, in the Captain's case, it wasn't purely accidental on occasion. Pat had seen the need to mediate between them during their first few amicable interactions just to make sure that the two of them did not bite each other's head off. But he had gotten the feeling that the two of them were on their way to being good mates. Very early stages of course, one had to move at glacial speeds when it came to the Captain.

Apparently he had been wrong in that assumption. Their interactions were, once again, stilted and abrupt. Maybe even more so than ever before. The Captain had fled the scene a couple of times now actually. So something must have happened. But Humphrey wasn't eager to share with the class and Pat did not even dare to ask the Captain. He would either get a bit of a tantrum-y reaction or just see the Captain running away from him too. He would definitely not receive a straight answer either way.

Oh no. No. No. No.

He could hear it. And definitely feel it. The Wheeze.

He probably should not have stood so close to the fire for so long. Or at least, not downwind from it. Smoke inhalation wasn't healthy for anyone. But for someone with asthma? Very unhealthy. And stupid.

Pat did his best to take deep breaths but it was all very wheezy at this point and very, very painful.

"Patrick?"

Pat put his right hand on his chest. As if that would do anything. Oh, this really wasn't good. His vision was going a bit wonky.

"Patrick?"

Really not good. Pat's other hand fumbled with the zip of his jacket pocket. He always kept his inhaler in there. Just in case. And this definitely was a case.

"Patrick. What's happening?"

Pat finally got the zip to slide down. He would have breathed a sigh of relief but ... bit difficult at the moment. His hands slid into his pocket.

Oh God.

"Patrick."

His inhaler. Where was it? The pocket was empty.

"Patrick."

Maybe it was the wrong pocket? But he always kept it in the left pocket. Always. He checked the other pocket anyway.

"Patrick."

Empty. Both pockets were empty. No inhaler. Shit.

He was going to die.

"What's going on here? What did you do?"

"What? Nothing!"

A warmth on his cheek brought Pat back from the brink of death. Was it a hand?

"Hey, Pat." Pat did his best to bring the face that swam up in front of him into focus. "Pat, tell me what's wrong, mate."

He managed a wheeze. Not a particularly efficient one.

And then his face began hurting a bit. Why did his face hurt?

"Sorry, Pat. But you need to focus right now."

Pat wanted to point out that he was dying actually, so he was a bit busy at the moment but he could only manage a straggly breath.

"FOCUS, GOD DAMNIT!"

And Pat slammed back into reality.

"Yeah, alright, mate, don't yell at him like that." Humphrey was kneeling right in front of him but his face was turned away as if he was speaking to somebody else.

That somebody mumbled something Pat couldn't quite make out.

"Humphrey?" Pat wheezed out.

Humphrey turned back to face him and smiled. "There you are, Pat. Can you hear me?"

Pat nodded. And continued to die a wheezing death.

"What's going on with you?" Humphrey laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly. "Do we need to call an ambulance?"

Pat shook his head. "Just asthma," he wheezed. Oh, that really hurt. He rubbed his chest.

"Just asthma?" Somebody barked.

"Jesus." Humphrey turned once more to whoever was hovering behind him. Pat could only make out a vaguely human-shaped ... shape. "Stop yelling. Fuck off if you can't help yourself."

Pat just kept wheezing.

"Do you have an inhaler somewhere?" Humphrey asked and Pat belatedly realised that he was the one being addressed.

He nodded. "Pocket." He padded said pocket. Which was still decidedly empty. He tried to tell Humphrey that a search party in there would bring up nothing as the man began pulling on his jacket. But Pat couldn't quite find enough air to say anything. Maybe they should look for some air instead. Why was there no air?

"Pockets are empty," Humphrey announced shortly after. He pulled on Pat a bit roughly.

Wheeze.

"Maybe he has a spare one somewhere?" Somebody off-screen wondered.

"Pat." Humphrey tabbed his cheek gently. "Do you have a spare inhaler somewhere? In your room?"

Oh. Yes. Pat nodded. It was all really uncomfortable. "Bedside table" he managed to get out. But he did not want Humphrey to leave. He didn't want to die alone. Shit, that made breathing even more painful.

Wheeze.

"Alright, where's your key?"

Pat felt something on his leg. Oh, Humphrey pulled out the keys to his room. With all the key rings that never quite fit in his pocket.

They jingled as Humphrey did something with them. "You. Run back to his room and get his inhaler." He had turned his head away again to yell instructions to someone.

Wheeze.

The other individual said something Pat couldn't hear or process because it was getting really hard to concentrate.

Wheeze.

Humphrey turned back to face Pat. By this point, his face was about the only thing Pat could still make out in the descending haze. "Help is on the way, okay?"

Oh, good. Help. Yes, he needed help. But help wasn't an ambulance, right? That wasn't necessary. He only needed his inhaler. He'd have to apologise to the paramedics for forgetting it. And the dispatcher. And the NHS as a whole.

Wheeze. Wheeze.

"Ssh. Calm down, mate." Pat felt two hands on his shoulders. He thought they were hands. "Breathe slowly."

"What going on?" A different voice sounded from somewhere nearby. "Pat not okay?"

Wheeze.

"Bit of an asthma thing going on," Humphrey thankfully explained. Pat was certain he was incapable of speech at this point.

"Oh no. What can we do?" Yet another voice.

Wheeze.

Pat had just about enough brainwork left to feel a bit embarrassed about all these people congregating around him.

"His inhaler is on the way," Humphrey said. Pat felt pressure on his shoulder. "You'll be okay in a minute. Okay, Pat?" A pause. "Pat?"

Oh, was he supposed to answer that? Pat nodded.

Wheeze.

More words were said and Pat didn't even know if it was Humphrey or somebody else at this point. More voices.

Wheeze.

Wheeze.

Wheeze.

Then he felt pressure on his lips. And a voice close to his ear. "Open your mouth, Pat. Come on."

Pat did and something hard was pushed between his teeth.

"Deep breath now, okay?"

But breathing really, really hurt right now, he wanted to say. His chest was on fire. Had nobody noticed?

Something wet hit the inside of his mouth. And Pat inhaled by sheer accident.

It hurt. It really did. So did the next breath he took.

The one after that was going in and out slightly easier.

"Another one, alright?"

Again, Pat's mouth was invaded. And more moisture hit his teeth and tongue and palate. He recognised the awful taste. And he breathed in as deeply as he could bear.

Oh, and wasn't that something? His airway and lungs were only slightly on fire now. They still stung but Pat was sure he was no longer dying.

His focus returned to what was going on outside of his body. Humphrey was kneeling right in front of him. Had they sat down? Ugh, yes. Pat could feel the wet grass through his jeans. Lovely.

"Okay now?" Humphrey asked, staring at him with an awful lot of concern. He raised Pat's inhaler up.

Pat nodded and used his hand to pry it from Humphrey's grasp. He gave himself another dose, finally able to breathe in properly.

"Oh gosh. That was so scary." Kitty walked up to kneel beside Humphrey.

Robin was hovering right behind them, head slightly tilted.

There was another person, slightly to the side. The Captain was bent over, leaning on his knees. Breathing a bit funny. But watching Pat closely.

"You got asthma too?" Pat held his inhaler in the Captain's direction.

"What?" The Captain straightened up. Probably from sheer disgust. He barely let any of the others touch him. So he probably didn't want anything that had recently been in Pat's mouth anywhere near his person.

Pat let himself have one last dose from his inhaler. He was still winded but he knew that he would take hours to breathe completely normal again. He should probably stay away from fires and smoke for the rest of the night. Stuffing his inhaler into his jacket pocket, he put his palms on the wet grass to struggle into a standing position.

Humphrey put his hands on Pat's elbows to lend his aid. "You sure you're okay?"

Pat smiled gratefully. "Oh yeah. I'll be feeling that for a while. But I'll be alright." He patted his jacket pocket sheepishly. "Must have forgotten to bring the little guy along when I switched coats earlier."

"Well, now we know where we can find one if it happens again." Humphrey slung his arm around Pat's shoulders.

"Yeah." Pat pushed his glasses up his nose. It was all a bit embarrassing really. "Thanks everyone."

He looked at the assembled group.

"You not do dat again," Robin told him, walking up to poke Pat in the chest. Very lightly.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're okay now." Kitty pushed Humphrey away and gave Pat a hug. She made up for its briefness with her enthusiasm. Humphrey immediately put his arm back around Pat's shoulder afterward.

The Captain had shuffled a little closer but still stood a fair bit back from the rest of the group. He offered no reprimand for the lack of precautions nor gratefulness for Pat's continued existence. Pat could not read his facial expression.

"Right. Thanks again, guys." Pat adjusted his glasses again. "I think I'm gonna head inside and get some new trousers on." He gestured at the wet grass.

"Wet bum?" Robin asked, smirking.

"A bit," Pat said sheepishly. "And I think I'll stay inside after that. Just to be safe."

The others nodded.

Instead of going back to the festivities, they all followed Pat back to the house and into the drawing room. Pat wasn't sure whether it was because he had ruined the mood by almost dying or because they wanted to make sure he was really okay. Sweet of them if it was the latter.

"Right. I'm gonna head upstairs and change really quick." He pointed behind him.

"Me get more beer," Robin yelled, already pulling Kitty along.

Pat smiled at Humphrey and the Captain before turning towards the main staircase. He patted his jeans pocket for his key. But it wasn't there.

"Does anyone have my-"

"Oh. Here." The Captain performed a weird little skip as he pulled Pat's keychain collection from his jacket pocket. He handed the key over without meeting Pat's eye. "Sorry. Might have made a mess in my haste."

Oh.

"Oh. No worries, Cap." Pat smiled at him. "Thank you." He wasn't sure if the Captain understood that Pat wasn't thanking him for returning his keys. So he added, "For, you know ..."

The other man made some kind of noise before taking a step backwards. He still would not meet Pat's gaze.

Pat glanced at Humphrey for a second and they shrugged simultaneously.

"Right, I'll be right back then." Pat hurried upstairs because he did not know what else to say.

He found his room in pretty much the exact state he had left it in earlier. The door was locked, the bedside drawer was almost properly closed. He peeked inside. A box of tissues and his spare glasses were sitting innocently inside. Just where they had always been. Who knew what the Captain defined as a 'mess' because this definitely wasn't one.

Fresh trousers on, Pat returned downstairs.

Humphrey, Robin and Kitty had stationed themselves on the sofas, the Captain in an armchair, all a drink in their hands. Robin was telling some bewildering and physical story about that one time he met a bear. The others looked just as confused even though they had probably heard how that scenario had come to be.

"You had to be there." Robin pouted when he did not receive the reaction he had been hoping for.

Kitty handed Pat a Watney's as Robin jumped into the next story. Apparently he had fought a gorilla once. Pat sat down next to Humphrey who appeared as unfamiliar with Robin's experience as everyone else. You would mention a fight with a gorilla to your brother, right?

Pat giggled when Kitty threw him a desperate look. The sofa she was sharing with Robin was too short for the wild enactments of a story of this calibre. He waved her over and scooted to the side so she could squeeze herself in between himself and Humphrey.

It brought Pat into the Captain's vicinity. The man, like the others, had shed his outer layers and his ear defenders. Now he was drawing patterns into the condensation on his Sprite can with his finger while his knee jerked up and down with pent-up energy. Or general awkwardness. Or whatever else kept his thoughts occupied on a fine Sunday evening like this one. Pat doubted he was actively listening to Robin's story. He looked up just as Pat realised that he might have been watching him for a tad too long and too conspicuously.

Pat smiled and the Captain actually returned the gesture. His moustache hid most of it. But Pat knew to look for the crinkling lines around his eyes. And crinkle they did.

The Captain lowered his gaze and leaned forward a bit. "Are you alright now?" he whispered.

For a second Pat wondered why the Captain was concerned for the wellbeing of his drink. Only when the man looked up again, did Pat realise that the question had been addressed to him.

"Oh, yeah." Pat waved his hand around. "My chest still stings a bit but I'll be back to normal tomorrow."

The Captain nodded, tapping the fingers of his free hand on the armrest of the chair.

"Gorilla always win," Robin concluded his story. They all nodded along. Probably a good advice to take away from such a unfathomable story.

They let the silence hang over them for a bit.

"Time for fireworks!" Robin jumped up.

Pat felt the Captain cringe away from the noise. He immediately reached over and patted the other man's knee to comfort him but then realised that that was probably not a welcome gesture. So he retracted his hand to rest it on his own leg.

"Things will go boom," Robin declared.

"You said things wouldn't go 'boom'," the Captain said, eyes suddenly wide.

"Yeah, Just fig of speech. No real booms. Because animals."

The Captain narrowed his eyes at him.

"I'll watch from the windows, I think," Pat said. "Yannow." He patted his own chest.

"I'll keep you company," Kitty said.

"Oh, that's sweet of you, Kitty, but you don't have to," Pat assured her.

"But what if you almost die again?" she asked very seriously. What was he supposed to say to this genuine show of concern?

"You help." Robin pulled Humphrey to his feet and out of the room.

"I know a good spot from where we can watch," the Captain spoke up from his armchair. "But we'll need our coats."

After dressing in their outerwear again, the Captain, confusingly, led them upstairs. They walked up a tight set of steps to the second floor and an attic that would not look out of place on one of those shows on the telly where people cleaned out hoarder's houses. Only a more historic version of that. Maybe they could go on Antiques Roadshow.

The Captain came to a stop at a skylight. It creaked open with an ominous screech.

"I'll pull you up," he said before clattering out of the window. Pat rushed over to stop him. Was he actually insane? Just climbing onto a roof like that?

But then he took a peek outside and saw the Captain standing on a ledge about two feet wide, like a very slim balcony.

The Captain leaned down and offered his gloved hands to pull him up. Pat let himself be manhandled out of the skylight, trying to lend as much help as he could by bracing his feet on some rickety crap in the attic. He knew he wasn't a light lad.

But the Captain did not say anything. Or even seem fazed by the manoeuvre. Pat moved along the ledge to make room for Kitty. Thankfully the facade had been built a bit higher to create a bit of a barrier between them and an uncomfortable splat onto the gravel driveway down below.

"Come on, Katherine." Pat turned to see the Captain leaning over the skylight, both arms extended.

He couldn't quite hear what Kitty's response was but the Captain's brow furrowed. Pat slid closer again.

"I can't," Kitty said. "I'll fall."

"What?" The Captain kneeled down. "No, I won't let that happen." He looked up at Pat. "Patrick will help, too, okay?"

"No, I can't."

The Captain hung his head and sighed. Pat glared at him. This was not an appropriate time to get annoyed, Pat thought.

"Scoot over. I'm coming back in," the Captain said, before climbing back through the skylight.

There was a hushed conversation that Pat could not quite make out but suddenly Kitty's head appeared. He rushed over to help and grabbed her hands to help pull her out.

Once she had cleared the skylight and found a safe spot on the ledge, Pat peeked back into the attic. The Captain was wiping his hands on his trousers. "Is she alright?" He squinted up at Pat.

"Yeah. Safe and sound."

"Good. Stand back." The Captain joined them on the ledge a second or two later. He was surprisingly agile for someone with such noisy knees.

Once Pat had made sure that the Captain was standing securely next to him, he turned around to finally take in the view.

"Wow."

It really was magnificent. The lit-up driveway right beneath them gradually gave way to the dark lawn. The bonfire rose out of the darkness like a lonely beacon. Pat could make out little figures moving around it. In the far distance some lights shimmered through what Pat knew were the treetops. Must be the village.

His gaze slowly lifted higher, past the horizon towards the dark sky above them.

It's not like Pat had not looked up at the sky in all the months since he had moved here but on the rare occasion the sky was actually cloudless, he was blown away every time by the sheer amount of stars you could see out here in the country.

He spent some moments to find the few constellations he knew. "There's the Big Dipper." He pointed upwards.

"Ursa Major," came a voice from beside him. Pat turned to see that the Captain's gaze had followed his outstretched arm. "Also known as the Great Bear."

"Robin probably loves that one," Pat said, turning back to find another constellation. "I bet I can find the North Star." He did not know much about astronomy, if he was honest. But everyone could find the North Star, right?

"No, you can't," the Captain said.

"Excuse you?" Pat turned to him. "Of course I can."

"No, you can't." The Captain craned his head so far back that he was in danger of falling over. "North is that way." He pointed behind them. "The house is blocking the view."

"Okay, Mister Smart Arse." Pat crossed his arms over his chest. "Since you seem to know so much about the topic, why don't you educate us lesser souls?"

He could see the Captain frown in the low light even though the other man was still staring up at the sky. "That's literally all I know about stars, Patrick."

"What?"

"I can point out the Great Bear and tell you that the North Star is always located, you know, in the North." He paused for a moment. "I can tell you where the moon is, too."

Pat snorted. "Give over, mate. Even Stephen Hawking would be impressed."

The Captain lowered his gaze to grin at him. Pat had never seen him do that before. He looked absurdly normal.

"Is there a unicorn up in the stars?" Kitty spoke up.

"There might be," Pat said at the same moment as the Captain said, "There definitely isn't."

Kitty seemed to hone in on the Captain with a fiery gaze. "If there's a bear, there is probably a unicorn."

The Captain was wise enough to mutter, "Sure, if you want" instead of arguing his case.

"Maybe over there?" Pat pointed at a random point in the sky.

"Oh yes." Kitty was on board immediately.

The Captain squinted at the cluster of stars for a second before going, "No, that looks more like a Bren light machine gun." He ignored the massive side-eye Pat threw his way and instead pointed to a different point in the sky. "Maybe over there?"

"Oh yes." Kitty agreed after only a second.

Pat pushed himself into the Captain's space. "How the fuck do you see a unicorn in that?" he asked through clenched teeth. He dared not speak loud enough for Kitty to hear.

"I don't," the Captain replied, equally strained.

But Kitty was ecstatic. She pointed out a rainbow constellation to them and the two men hummed in pretend agreement.

And then it was like there was an actual rainbow in the sky as different colours lit up the darkness. The fireworks had begun.

The Captain flinched even though there had been no actual sound. He brought his hands up to his ears, not quite covering them but letting them hover nearby just in case. His ear defenders probably lay forgotten somewhere downstairs.

More rockets lit up the sky. Their hissing and popping sounds barely reached them, the crowd's cheers being way louder, and the Captain relaxed a bit but kept his hands near his head nonetheless.

"Maybe we should sit down?" Pat asked and slid down until he was half-leaning against the roof tiles, bracing his feet against the raised facade. He wanted to make sure that the Captain wouldn't suddenly pitch forward and over the ledge if he startled too strongly.

The Captain seemed to actually like the idea and copied his position. Since he was taller, he looked a little more comfortable doing it than Pat felt. Stupid short legs. Kitty was too busy admiring the pretty colours to join them.

They watched the fireworks in silence, with Kitty's chatter and the cheering crowd as background noise. The Captain did eventually relax and trust Robin enough to fold his hands over his midsection.

"What?" He asked when he caught Pat watching him. Again. He probably thought Pat was a total creep.

"Just making sure you're alright." Which wasn't a total lie at least.

The Captain blinked a few times. "Yes?"

Pat smiled at him. "Good."

The Captain turned back to the fireworks with a furrowed brow.

"Hiiiiiiiiiii."

Humphrey felt something heavy attach to his legs.

"Oh no," he cried. ""It's an octopus attack." He looked down to see Daley grin up at him.

"It's me, silly" the boy said as if an octopus encounter in the ballroom was actually unlikely on a normal Saturday evening.

"Oh, is it?" Humphrey made a show of bending over and scrutinising Daley with narrowed eyes. "You sure?"

"Yeeeeees." Daley giggled. He grabbed Humphrey's hand and swung it around enough for Humphrey to worry about a dislocated shoulder.

"Hm, you're a lot taller all of a sudden," Humphrey said.

"I'm six now."

"No, are you?" Of course, Humphrey knew. Pat had not shut up about it for the last week or so.

"Yes. My birthday was on Tuesday." Pat had driven up to Reading for the day and endured a painful afternoon in the company of Carol and her bloke just to be with Daley on his special day. Also something Pat had not been able to shut up about.

"We're gonna watch a film."

"I know. I hope you brought snacks," Humphrey told him, letting Daley pull him down the corridor towards the telly room.

"Yes, Da and I got so many."

They reached the telly room where Pat and Robin were in the process of organising different coloured bags of crisps. They had set up a little station with different chocolate bars and bowls of gummy worms too.

"Hm." Humphrey let go of Daley and put his hands on his hips. "Not sure that's enough. I haven't had dinner yet." He'd had dinner. A quick stir-fry after his shift had ended.

Daley giggled. "Come sit with me."

They plonked down on the worn-out couch and Daley got Humphrey caught up on all his latest life updates. Life as a six-year-old was hard these days. It sounded exhausting.

"Uuuuuuh," Julian announced his presence and immediately went over to steal a bag of crisps for himself. He ignored Pat's half-hearted admonishments and plopped himself into a chair.

The others filed in not long after. Kitty and Mary squeezed themselves onto the couch with them, leaving Thomas to whine about how he always ended up on a chair and how it was always the one with the wonky legs. Robin got so annoyed with Thomas that he threatened to ram the chair leg into his ribcage. That finally made Thomas sit down.

"Is he coming, Da?" Daley piped up, sitting up straight to look around. "You said he'd come."

"He said he'd be here, Daley," Pat reassured him. "He's probably still working."

"Who?" Julian snorted himself awake. He had dozed off immediately after sitting down. Like an old man. It made Humphrey worry. Julian was only three or four years older than him.

"The Captain," Daley said, excitement drizzled over all three syllables.

Humphrey could only just resist the eye roll he so desperately wanted to perform. He had hoped that the Captain had better things to do with his Saturday night than watch a Disney film with them.

It was getting harder to hide his disdain for the man and Pat was getting suspicious. Humphrey had not told him what he had seen on the night of the wedding. That the Captain had slept with the guy that had bullied Pat for years. The guy who had caused Pat to cry even after all this time. Humphrey didn't want Pat to go through the betrayal. But it was hard seeing Pat be all chummy with the Captain when Humphrey knew what the prick had done. Humphrey hoped the man would sit close enough that he could accidentally on purpose kick him a few times. Or even better if he did not come at all. Daley would be sad but they could deal with that.

"Oh, good old Captain." Julian sat up properly, a sleazy grin plastered on his face. "Any more takers for the betting pool?"

Humphrey did roll his eyes then.

"Gambles be the works o' the devils," Mary said. Humphrey knew for a fact that she had placed a bet for the Captain's name to be Beelzebub.

"Has anybody ever just asked him?" Pat asked before noisily ripping open a bag of salt-and-vinegar crisps. "Or Lady B? She would know his name, right? As his employer?"

"And sister," Julian added absently.

“What?”

Several versions of the word rang out and hung above them.

Pat dropped his crisps in shock. Luckily, he had been about to pour them into a large bowl, so they didn't fall very far. They'd be alright.

And only then did Humphrey's brain finish processing what Julian had said.

"His sister?" He cried.

"What?" Julian was entirely distracted by his own crisps. "Sister, yes. Did you all not know this?"

"No."

"Definitely not."

"That explains so much actually."

"Does it though?"

Julian finally paid them his full attention. "What did you think they were?"

Pat did a little squeak. "Well..." He avoided all eye contact. In a small room with almost ten people in it, that was a bit of a feat.

Julian's eyebrows raised up with delight. "Oh, you thought they were visiting the Himalayan Base Camp together?" Thank God he always spoke in terrible euphemisms. There were minors present.

Pat scrunched up his nose. "What even does that mean?"

"Trust me," Julian said. "The Captain's never touched himself. Let alone another person, especially a woman." Humphrey resisted to contradict Julian's claim that the Captain had never touched anyone. He couldn't do that to Pat. Not in front of everyone. "Trust me, Pat,” Julian continued. “They've not done it."

"Because they're siblings." Pat looked at Julian with scepticism.

"Well." Julian shrugged. "That's never stopped anyone, has it?"

Daley, who had wandered over to the snack table, startled at the various retching sounds that filled the room. "What, Da?"

"Nothing, mate." Pat put a hand on his son's shoulder. "Let's make sure everyone has a drink yeah?"

While those two got busy distributing various kinds of refreshments, Humphrey leaned over to speak to Julian. There was finally someone who knew things.

"But this is Lady Button's house, right? From her ex-husband?" Not something the Captain had any claim to that would explain why Lady B won’t fire him.

"Yeah, she got everything in the divorce. Estate, horses, the dog."

"Wow, you really must be a good attorney."

"Yes, the best in the county." Humphrey still had his doubts about that even though Julian mentioned it a lot. "But her husband was also convicted of attempted murder, so, you know, that played into it a bit."

"Lady Button's husband tried to kill someone?" Thomas leaned over, clearly listening in.

"Was it Captain?" Robin had tuned in as well.

Julian shook his head. "No, he tried to kill her."

"What? Why?" Even Pat was eavesdropping.

Julian shrugged. "She caught him in the middle of a Moroccan Tea Party and he thought it best to get rid of her before news got out."

They all exchanged confused glances.

"He have tea party and den he try to kill wife? He not want to share tea?"

"No, not an actual tea party," Julian said in unfounded exasperation. "A Moroccan Tea Party. It's when a man gets upon another man and then another man gets upon him and they-"

"Like a sandwich?" Kitty asked wide-eyed.

"A man-wich," Mary supplied jollily.

Pat had covered Daley's little ears at some point but still squeaked in distress.

"That's nothing compared to the Cantonese Flower Crown which is whe-"

"So Lady B got the house afterwards," Humphrey said hurriedly because he did not want to know about the Cantonese Flower Crown. And he had more questions about the Captain and Lady B. "Had the Captain already been working here then? Before the- the tea party?"

"No, their gardener then was part of it actually."

Several noises of outrage and astonishment echoed off the walls.

"The Captain moved in after Lady B came home from hospital," Julian continued. He clearly enjoyed sharing all this insight.

"Hospital?"

"Oh yeah. Good old George Button pushed her out of a window. The one in the next room over." Julian pointed to the wall on their left. That room was always locked and nobody Humphrey had asked, knew what was in it.

"Ouch."

"Yeah, broke her back in several places. That's why she's so stiff. She's very lucky she's still walking.”

"Should you be telling us all of this?" Pat asked. His hands were posed to cover Daley's ears again if the occasion required. "Isn't there confidentiality agreements and stuff?"

"Yeaaaah." Julian moved his head from side to side. "But, you know, you asked. And it's fun. The Button family is a weird bunch. George is quite the character. And he isn’t the only one. I mean just look at th-"

"Captain." Daley ran over to the man standing in the doorway. "Hi."

"Hello." The Captain looked flustered already. He stepped to the side when Dante wriggled through the gap between his legs to get into the room.

Daley bent down to coo at the dog immediately. "Can I pet him?"

"Um." The Captain's wide-eyed gaze zoned in on Pat who nodded. "Yes? If you want." He cleared his throat. "Sorry, Fanny's away," he said to the room at large. "But I can leave him downstairs if it's a problem?" He pointed at the corridor behind him.

They quickly assured him that it wasn’t.

As if the dog was the problem. Now that Humphrey had had his suspicions about the Captain's character confirmed, he wanted the man to leave and never return to the house more than he ever had before. He wasn't even going to pretend to be nice. As long as Pat wasn't too close by.

"Come sit." Daley took the Captain by the hand and forced him to move further into the room.

The Captain came to an abrupt stop in front of the couch. He seemed to flinch away from Mary a bit and when he made eye contact with Humphrey, who was fully aware that he was outright glaring, he actually stepped back. His gaze flickered to the doorway, then landed on Daley.

"I'll sit over there I think," he mumbled and, putting as much distance between himself and the occupants of the couch, walked over to the cluster of dining chairs. He stiffly sat in the one furthest away from Humphrey which brought him into close proximity of Julian.

"Captain." Julian's grin widened. "Do you happen to know what a Moroccan Tea Party is?"

"Not this again," Pat mumbled and moved himself back into Daley's proximity just in case.

"No." The Captain did not even turn to look at Julian and stared at a blank part of the wall instead. "And I don't want to know."

"Don't you?" Julian leaned over to make sure the Captain would see him. "I think you'd be very interested."

"No, thank you, Fawcett." The Captain’s fists clenched into agitated balls.

"But I-"

"Right," Pat spoke up with a tad too much volume. "Since we're all here now, we can get the film going, right? Daley, what did you pick?”

“Cars. With Lightning McQueen. He’s my favourite.” He pointed down at his shirt from which a red cartoon car with eyes instead of a windscreen was grinning out at them. “Do you like Cars, Captain?”

“Um.” The fists loosened. “A-as a general concept? Yes? Pro-probably. Not great for our climate but far superior to public transportation in terms of comfort.”

Daley adorably furrowed his brow. “Who’s your favourite?” He didn’t actually believe that the Captain had ever seen the film before, right? Even Humphrey barely knew about it.

“My-my favourite car?” The Captain suddenly sat even straighter than before. “We-well, you see, I wouldn’t be able to choose just one out of all the cars that have ever been produced but if I had to choose one for purchasing right this minute I woul-”

“We haven’t sung Happy Birthday yet,” Julian interrupted him. Talked over him really because the Captain just ignored him and spewed out car model after car model.

“Noo. Happy Birthday.” Julian wasn’t known for his sentimentality, so his suggestion was a bit odd. “It’s the law to sing Happy Birthday for birthday boys,” he insisted. “Stop rambling, Captain. We need to sing Happy Birthday for Daley.”

The Captain did cease what was clearly the beginning of a long monologue on automobiles. He glared at Julian while everyone else had apparently decided that Julian had had a good idea for once. They cleared their throats and began humming to find a tune.

“Oh, brilliant.” Pat was fucking beaming as he hugged Daley into his side while he raised his free hand to play conductor. “A one, a two, a one, two, three.”

After the film had ended, Pat carefully excavated a sleepy Daley from the pile of bodies on the couch and told them that he would meet them down in the kitchen for another drink once he had put Daley to bed. The others were on board immediately, as they had run out of beer just before the final race of the film and everybody had been too invested in the story to get more. Damn Disney.

Humphrey was a bit slow to move. After sitting for so long, and especially when having other people's bodies strewn half on top of him, his limbs tended to get a bit tingly or even cease function entirely for a bit. Early on after his accident, it had freaked him the hell out, fearing that paralysis had set in after all. But the doctors had reassured him that numbness and tingling were just part of his life now. He’d just need to wait a few minutes. So he told everyone with fully operating bodies that he would join them soon.

Unfortunately, there was another individual who seemed to be having bodily troubles. The Captain remained sitting in his chair and waited for the others to file out before he braced a hand on the backrest of the chair and slowly raised to his feet. The noise that first one and then the other knee made, made Humphrey shudder.

The Captain turned to him. “Is there … is there something wrong?”

Humphrey crossed his tingly arms over his chest. "I saw you and Keith." He might as well use this moment to tell the other man how much of a dick he is. Instead of admitting that he just wasn’t able to get up at the moment. No need to beat around the bush was there?

The Captain's brow furrowed as it so often did. He pretended to think for a moment. "Who?"

"At the wedding," Humphrey said. "You slept with Keith. The guy who bullied Pat back in school. We threw cake at him together, remember? And then you slept with him."

The Captain shook his head. "I did not sleep with him."

"Don't bother pretending. I saw you. In the drawing room. He wanted to repay a favour or something. And you accepted." Humphrey felt the anger rising within him. "You know, I was starting to like you." That made the Captain look up but Humphrey continued, undeterred. "I was starting to think you were different from the prick I had always thought you were. But, guess what, it turns out you really are that prick. Sleeping with another prick. What the fuck? Who's side are you even on? First you help us mess with the bloke and then you jump in bed with him? What the fuck?"

"I did not sleep with him." The Captain shook his head again. He rubbed his eyes. "I didn't want to. Why would I want to?" His voice got quieter towards the end.

Humphrey scoffed. "You went with him. He held your hand and everything." The room had been pretty dark but not that dark.

The Captain breathed out an annoyed breath. Rich of him. "I didn't ... I just wanted to ..." He huffed. "Never mind." And then he turned to leave. No fucking way.

"Stay right where you are," Humphrey told him firmly.

The Captain stopped in his tracks immediately. His shoulders climbed up to his ears. But he did not turn around again, so Humphrey could not see his face.

Humphrey raised his eyebrows anyway. He decided to be the decent bloke he actually was. "So, you didn't want to sleep with him." Benefit of the doubt and all that bullshit.

The Captain nodded. Then his shoulders slumped.

Humphrey shifted. "But you did anyway?" Suddenly, this conversation was uncomfortable for very different reasons.

"No, how many times? I did not sleep with him." The Captain did turn around again then, rubbing his eyes in frustration. Or was he crying?

Humphrey's belly filled with dread. "But you went with him," he said quietly.

"Yes."

"And then what?"

The Captain shrugged in a clear attempt to appear nonchalant. The look on his face said otherwise. "He suddenly didn't want to anymore. So I left."

Humphrey could not help but snort. "What, you opened your mouth for a second and attempted small talk with him? Cause you know that is what makes most people leave?" It came out harsher than Humphrey had meant it to but he was a bit frustrated, okay?

The Captain actually flinched but stayed quiet, glaring at the ground at his feet.

"What would have happened if he hadn't changed his mind?" Humphrey asked. He uncrossed his arms and flexed his fingers to get some feeling back into them. He saw the Captain's gaze flicker up to his hands for a moment before it returned to the floorboards.

"I was certain he wouldn't want to go through with it," the Captain mumbled.

"Because you're so good with reading people?" Humphrey rolled his eyes. "Mate, he wanted to do it. I could see and hear it."

The Captain looked up with a dark glare. "Why were you eavesdropping anyway?"

"Because I found it weird that the two of you would have a conversation."

The Captain's eyes were blazing. "Because I'm a shitty conversation partner?"

"Ye- no." Humphrey rather not get punched in the face tonight. "I had not gotten the feeling that you liked him all that much when you told me how to stuff cake in his jacket pockets without him noticing."

"No, I didn't like him," the Captain admitted quietly.

"But you let him believe that you would sleep with him." Now, Humphrey has had many an infuriating conversation in his time, some of the more memorable ones with the specimen that was standing right in front of him. But this particular exchange was definitely one of the more stellar examples.

"Hm," the Captain said.

Humphrey wanted to throttle him. "Why? I don't get it."

The Captain shrugged. "It's stupid", he mumbled.

"That's the feeling I'm getting, yeah."

The Captain ground the palms of his hands into his eye sockets.

"Are we going to talk about it?" Humphrey did his best to sound accessible. "Because I get the feeling that there's something you should talk about." A therapist or even psychiatrist was probably better equipped for the job but they'd have to make do for now. Maybe he could convince the Captain to go see one sometime?

"No, thank you," the Captain said.

Humphrey resisted the urge to throw up his hands in annoyance. He released a frustrated breath instead.

The Captain kept standing there with unusually hunched shoulders. "Sorry, I just can't."

They basked in the following silence for a few moments. Humphrey, still sitting on the couch with his body turned so he could watch the Captain, who was standing halfway between him and the door, fidget in quiet distress.

"Sorry," the Captain whispered eventually. He was practically bouncing on his toes at this point.

Humphrey frowned. "What are you apologising for?" This wasn't a trick to get the Captain to have a deep and meaningful conversation or anything. Humphrey genuinely didn't know. He tried to replay their dialogue in his head.

"You don't like me very much," the Captain said to the wooden floorboards.

Humphrey laid his head to one side. "Did I say that?" He might have come across that way actually. In fact, it was very likely he had said something to that effect.

"Yes. So ..." The Captain cleared his throat. "I'll just go. Tell Patrick that I probably won't be attending Pizza Night on Tuesday."

"Oh." That will make Pat all mopey, Humphrey knew. "Why not? Got plans?"

"No. But I do not want to force my presence on you. So I'll stay away."

"Okay, mate. I ge-"

"Stop it," the Captain hissed.

"Stop what?"

The Captain huffed. "Don't call me mate. I'm not your mate."

"Yeah, alright." Humphrey held up his hands. "I wanted you to be though. For the record."

"What?"The Captain jerked back and almost crashed into the wall behind him. That reaction was a bit harsh in Humphrey's opinion.

"Not like that," he said quickly, trying not to sound offended. "But, you know, mate as in friend?

"I don't understand."

"Yeah, I don't either." Humphrey rubbed his eyes. This was exhausting. "Look, I get the feeling that we had a bit of a breakdown in communication. I was angry at you for sleeping wi-"

"I didn't!"

"Yeah, alright, calm down. I thought you had slept with the guy, that's what it looked like to me and I was very angry because that bloke is a proper wazzock and you knew it before you sle- did not sleep with him. Okay? Just a dick move. But you didn't sleep with him apparently, even though you made it look like you had for whatever reason, so I am not angry anymore. Okay?"

"My sincerest apologies," the Captain mumbled, shuffling his feet.

"For what? There's apparently nothing you have to apologise for. Just a misunderstanding or misinformation or whatever." And it made Humphrey feel like a bit of a dick for treating the Captain like he had in the last couple of weeks.

"No," the Captain said, eyebrows still pinched. "For...for being a-a prick all the time. I try not to be. But I'm not doing a very good job."

Humphrey chuckled. "No, you're not."

The Captain sighed. "I'll just go then." And he made for the door.

"No, don't." Humphrey stood up to chase after him if necessary. The Captain halted. "Ma- sorry. Captain. Listen to me. I'm sorry, okay? For being so nasty to you, saying those things about you. But I did say that I was starting to like you, right? Did you hear that? Because that's true. You may come across like a pr- like an un-nice person most of the time but that's not actually who you are, is it?

The Captain shrugged.

"So maybe," Humphrey dared to take a step in his direction. "Maybe we can try again? Try to be mates? Still not like that." Because the Captain had flinched away again. Which was very rude actually. Humphrey knew he was the less handsome one in this equation but at least people did not need a fucking excavator to get to know him. Or learn his name.

Humphrey stuck out his hand in greeting. "I'm Humphrey."

The Captain blinked down at the offered appendage. "I know that."

Humphrey whined and pulled his hand back to bury his face in it. "No," he said firmly. "We're gonna start over. From the very beginning. Okay?"

"Oh. Okay."

"So. I'm Humphrey." He offered his hand again.

The Captain still looked confused but nodded. "Yes. I'm-"

"There you two are." Pat had appeared in the doorway.

"For fuck's sake," Humphrey muttered, dropping his hand.

"We're all waiting for you," Pat said. Only then did he seem to notice the tension. Hard to miss really. It was about as inconspicuous as a punch to the face. "Everything alright?"

"Yes," both Humphrey and the Captain said, probably too quickly because Pat narrowed his eyes and looked between them a few times.

"Did you two fight?"

"We would never."

"No."

Pat scrutinised them for a moment longer, his gaze jumping between them like he was watching a tennis match.

"Okay?" he said eventually, clearly unconvinced. "Drinks then?" He pointed at the corridor behind him.

"Yeah, let's go, mate." Humphrey pulled on the Captain's arm when he walked past him to get him to come along.

"Alright?" The Captain almost stumbled over his feet and then Dante, who had suddenly appeared from who knew where. The dog growled and yapped at the Captain's shoes in retaliation which didn't help the man in finding his balance.

"You good?" Humphrey asked when the Captain had regained control over his body and straightened up again.

"Yes." The Captain cleared his throat. "Thank you." He looked down at Dante. "Don't do that."

Dante perked up his ears and gave a questioning whine before attacking the Captain's boots again.

"Stop it." The Captain picked him up. Dante immediately snuggled into him.

Humphrey wished it was that easy to pacify everyone. But he got the feeling that, if he did more than even sling his arms around the Captain's shoulders, the man would run and hide.

"You coming?" Pat's head appeared around the doorway again. "Why are you being slowpokes?"

"Because we're old, Pat," Humphrey said and pushed the Captain ahead of him.

He ignored the way the Captain seemed to lean into the touch for the shortest of moments before he shrunk away.

Chapter Text

"Remember: No hitting, biting or hair pulling."

“No fondling either, please.”

“Yes. Not that either.” They all looked at Julian.

“What about a little smooching?” He asked, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“Eww.”

“Urrrgh.”

“No way.”

“You gross. Go ‘way.”

Humphrey continued to nod along as Lady B laid out the rest of the rules. There were many. She stood in front of all of them in her usual grey attire and strict hair-do.

"No stabbing with any type of instrument,” she said. “No name-calling. And most of all, remember your manners."

The Captain, who had both his hands braced against the kitchen table as if he wanted to flee any second, made a show of looking behind him when Lady B very pointedly glanced his way.

"Those are the rules. Understood?"

An assortment of "Yes, ma'am"s or sentiments of similar nature wavered through the kitchen. Humphrey glanced at the faces of his housemates. They were all taking this very seriously. Good. Because this was a question of honour. And fun. But mostly honour. He did not want to lose.

Lady B held up a small red Santa hat that contained all of their names on sticky notes."I will now form the teams. Team One." She rummaged through the contents of the hat theatrically before pulling out a pink Post-It. "Kitty."

"Oh yes. We're going to win," Kitty squealed immediately, clapping her hands.

"Joined by Pa-” She sighed. “Patrick."

"Oh, that's me. Pat's fine though, Lady B."

"And…” Another dramatic rummage. “Thomas."

´"Oh, that's … nice."

“This is the most wonderful team. Thank you, Lady Button.” Kitty slung her arm around Thomas’s thin frame.

Lady B cleared her throat over the sounds of Thomas being hugged to death by Kitty. "Team Two."

The remaining candidates leaned forward in anticipation. Pat did too because he was just so enthusiastic about everything that included team-building and togetherness.

"Humphrey."

What? Oh, that’s him. Humphrey rubbed his hands together and nodded at Pat to show him that he wouldn’t go easy on him.

"And Mary."

"Oh, that be alright." That would indeed be alright. If he was honest, Humphrey had no idea what to do when it came to these things.

"And ... the Captain."

Everyone groaned.

The Captain assumed battle stance immediately. “What?”

"Did you seriously write 'Captain'?" Pat asked in exasperation. He hadn't been the only one who had hoped to have that little mystery solved.

"What else was I supposed to write?" To be fair to the Captain, he looked genuinely confused.

"Your name?" Pat looked at him over the top of his glasses.

The Captain's moustache twitched. "Which is?"

Another groan made the rounds. The Captain smirked.

Lady B cleared her throat to bring everyone back on track. Easy for her to do. She knew what the Captain's name was. Probably.

"The last team, of course, " she took a dramatic pause, "is made up of Julian and Robin."

The two of them cheered as everyone else watched them with varying degrees of concern.

"Are we sure that's a good idea?" Pat asked as Robin and Julian high-fived over the table. They were sure of their victory already.

"All we can do is pray, I'm afraid." Lady B looked ready to summon the Almighty. Mary crossed herself.

"Alright everyone," Lady B said, raising her voice to be heard over Julian and Robin's optimism. "As the judge I will watch you work closely and ascertain that the rules are followed. I declare the Great Button House Gingerbread House Competition to be officially open."

They all cheered and went to town on the supplies strewn all over the table.

A few days ago, Mary had mentioned that she wanted to try out some recipes for gingerbread. Simply because she felt like it. Pat, resident dad and Scout troop leader had immediately suggested a friendly competition to bring some fun into the holiday season. And to make sure that Mary's gingerbread actually found some use. Justified because she had gone a bit crazy. There was a lot of gingerbread.

Humphrey watched Robin and Julian slink out of the kitchen. But it looked like Lady B had seen them too. She would keep them in check. So Humphrey turned to the task at hand. He pushed past Pat and Kitty to join his two teammates who were bent over one of the batches of gingerbread sitting on the kitchen counter.

"What's the plan then?" he asked as he sidled up to them and rested his elbows on the counter. "Are we going for the classic? Or something more elaborate?" He stole two Smarties from the bowls of sweets meant for decorating the houses.

Mary and the Captain did not even look up from where they were studying the gingerbread closely. Very closely. Their noses almost touched it. The Captain poked it with his finger. He hummed. Then went back to just looking at it.

Humphrey turned to watch Thomas cut some gingerbread under Pat’s careful instructions and Kitty’s cheerleading.

“Are we going to get started soon?” He asked when Mary and the Captain were still no further to moving than before.

“A plan be parts of the process,” Mary said wisely.

“It’s the whole process,” the Captain added. They all stared at the gingerbread for a bit longer. And Humphrey was beginning to have serious doubts that they would ever do anything to contribute to this competition.

“Right.” The Captain straightened up suddenly. "What are we thinking? Tower Bridge? Or the Eiffel Tower? London Eye?"

"What?" Humphrey turned to him. "Have you done one of these before?" He couldn’t picture the Captain doing this sort of activity. Even as a kid. He couldn’t even picture the Captain as a kid.

"No." The Captain studied him. "Something like it though. It can't be that difficult."

"Maybe we'll stick to the basics for now, okay? Triangle shape alright?" Humphrey leaned over to see what Mary thought of this idea. He tried to ignore the Captain's disgruntled expression.

Mary looked up when she finally, after several seconds of uncomfortable silence, noticed that Humphrey was staring at her. "That be okay for starters."

So they got to work. Mary had provided the recipe for the icing to all teams to make the competition more even. They even let Lady B come over and watch closely as they mixed the ingredients together to assure her that they really did follow the same recipe as everyone else. Which was fair. Humphrey wouldn't put it past Mary to hand out disaster recipes to everyone else while using an entirely different one for her own creation.

Humphrey helped the Captain cut some gingerbread into shape. He insisted on a little doorway to be cut into one of the sides which the Captain deemed as unnecessary at first. But he relented eventually and somehow they ended up with not just a doorway but an actual door that could swing back and forth. Which was very cool.

Not long after, the house was erected. And it did not look all that wonky. Mary did not allow them to poke it to actually check. "The mortars be needing times," she said.

"Excellent. There's your triangle house." The Captain took a step back and craned his neck to where the leftover batches of gingerbread were sitting. "What's next?" He wandered off.

"No, we gotta decorate it, mate," Humphrey called after him, pulling a bowl of gummy bears closer.

"You's be doing that,” Mary said. “But remembers to gives the mortars times for settings." Then she disappeared too.

Humphrey busied himself with attaching the gummy bears to the roof. Very carefully. And he still managed to make them look lopsided. Please excuse his lack of dexterity. He had mobility issues, alright? No, he actually did. Things like these were actually hard. Humphrey had the motor skills of a two-year-old.

Mary and the Captain returned, sheets of gingerbread and Smarties in tow. The gingerbread had been stacked on top of each other, the smarties the Captain did not even pretend to have brought over for decorating purposes. He just started shovelling them into his mouth as he and Mary intensely whispered back and forth. He did let Humphrey have some too. Purely for taste-testing purposes of course.

Humphrey watched the duo from the corner of his eye as he continued to deal with the gummy bears. The little fuckers had decided that it was more fun to use the roof as a slide than stay in their place as roof tiles. The Captain and Mary seemed to get along swimmingly all of a sudden. They kept whispering and it totally did not make Humphrey feel left out. He had not seen the Captain roll his eyes even once and, oh God, was that man smiling? What was happening?

The Captain leaned over to lend a hand when Humphrey requested assistance. The gummy bears knew better than to try any more insubordination after a stern talking-to from the Captain. Humphrey then talked him into using the few smarties they hadn't devoured for the lining of the doorway.

Humphrey was left on his lonesome again when Mary declared she was done with whatever task she had been performing and the Captain scuttled off again to join her. They even disappeared under the table at one point.

Nobody but Humphrey appeared concerned about this. The others were too busy with their own project. And Lady B had left the room, probably to deal with Robin and Julian, wherever they had gone. Humphrey tried to ignore whatever was happening under the table and focused on his house. They definitely weren't winning any teamwork points though.

"Ginger." Robin slapped a ginger root onto the table.

"Bread." Julian layed two pieces of white bread on top.

"House," they said in unison, pushing the two bread slices together to form a roof over the ginger.

They all stared.

"You get it?" Robin asked after a few seconds of baffled silence. He turned to his team partner. "They not get it."

"Well, it is very clever." Julian smirked his smarmy smirk.

"Yeah." Pat pushed up his glasses in a very I-am-very-disappointed kind of way. "Very clever."

Lady B simply wrinkled her nose. Her judgement was clear. "Let's move on," she said and moved to the other two gingerbread houses standing rather proudly on the kitchen table.

Pat, Thomas and Kitty's creation was similar in shape and size to the house Humphrey had worked on all evening. It was, of course, very rainbow-themed. Lady B complimented Team One on their eye for detail and well-executed icing skills. She also emphasised their ability to work together.

The functioning door did get Humphrey and his team a few points. So did the interesting pattern the sliding gummy bears had created in the icing.

"However, I'm more interested in what you've got going on under the table," Lady B said with a meaningful glance at two certain someones. The Captain and Mary shrugged nonchalantly as if they had not been hoping to be asked to reveal their little project to the world.

They bent down and pulled out a baking tray that held a large cubic object. Sheets of gingerbread stacked on top of each other and held up by what looked like gummy bears and icing in between each layer. A singular green gummy bear sat on top of the construction.

"What on earth is that?" Lady B dared to ask.

The Captain said, "Above-ground bunker" at the same time as Mary said, "Funeral pyre."

"It's not Julian and Robin you should have been looking out for," Pat whispered to Lady B.

"Why's the bunker on stilts? If it’ a bunker?" Julian had bent down to examine the structure closer.

Humphrey took a closer look. The lowest level was indeed held up by gingerbread pillars.

"You need room for parking, don't you?" The Captain's moustache twitched at the sheer audacity of Julian's question.

"What if it collapses during a bombing?"

"It won't." The Captain sounded very certain about that.

"It might."

The Captain looked at Mary. She lifted up her skirts a bit and then she stepped onto the gingerbread bunker slash funeral pyre. With one foot. And then the other.

She was now standing on a gingerbread house. It held her up just fine.

The Captain glowered at Julian. "Never doubt me, Fawcett."

Mary ignored his outstretched hand and hopped down.

"Bloody engineers," Humphrey heard Julian hiss.

"What about aliens?" Robin knelt down to poke the gummy bear on the roof.

"The chances of an alien invasion are slim to none, Robin." The Captain was too busy glaring at Julian to look at Robin.

"They built pyramids. Might come back.”

The Captain finally broke his staring contest to look at the man now stretched out on the floor. "They did not and they won't. We don't even know if there are any extraterrestrial life forms in the universe at all."

"If there be any, we cans burn thems on the funeral pyres."

Humphrey saw the Captain's left eye twitch.

"So you were an engineer." Pat must have sensed the growing tension in the Captain's moustache. "In the Army?"

"Yes." Pat’s question, unfortunately, only made the Captain bristle even more.

"What did you engineer?" No, Pat, abort. Abort!

"Was it tanks?" Kitty asked. "I bet it was tanks."

"Something like that." The Captain looked very ready to talk about something else. Or run away.

"Right." Pat glanced at Humphrey desperately. He finally seemed to have realised that the subject was better left alone.

So Humphrey clapped his icing-covered hands together. "Okay, who's ready for Home Alone?"

Pat gave him a relieved thumbs-up while most of the others ignored Lady B's calls to help with the clean-up and scarpered out of the room.

She turned her ire on Humphrey. "That's your own fault really. You're on clean-up duty." Then she exited dramatically.

"I'll help," Pat volunteered cheerfully and began piling various utensils into an abandoned bowl.

"Yeah, me too," the Captain mumbled.

They worked in companionable silence for a while. They moved the gingerbread bunker to a corner of the room, so they wouldn't constantly trip over it.

"Hang on." Humphrey turned to the Captain. A sudden thought had just hit him. "You were an engineer."

The Captain looked up from where he was scraping icing off the counter tops. His eyebrows pulled together. He took a second to answer. "Yes."

"How come …?" Humphrey crossed his arms over his chest. "Why did it take us hours and hours to put up the marquee? For the Open House? You can build a zombie-safe bunker out of gingerbread but get confused by a garden tent?"

"Not sure about the zombie-safe bit," the Captain mumbled, wiping over a particularly stubborn stain. He scrunched up his nose. "I don't know how zombies operate."

"Pretty much like Nazis, I imagine," Pat chimed in.

"Oh. Yes, it's zombie-safe then."

Humphrey waited a few seconds. "So, the marquee?"

The Captain frowned. "The instructions were unclear."

Humphrey snorted. "You mean, you couldn't read the instructions."

"Mh."

Humphrey rolled his eyes at the Captain's reluctance to say anything. "I bet we could have had the marquee up and zombie-safe in fifteen minutes if you had ignored the instructions entirely."

"But there was a manual." The Captain threw up his hands.

"So? Would have saved us all a lot of trouble if you had burned it." There had been at least three almost-fist-fights that day.

"But if there's a manual, one should use it."

"I've never used a manual in my life," Humphrey told him.

"That explains why you were almost beheaded by a television when you first moved in."

"What?" Pat grew wide-eyed at this new piece of information.

"How do you know about the tv?" That had been a very embarrassing event to have re-enacted by Robin once his concussion had cleared up. He hadn't known that the Captain had been privy to the details of his little accident.

"I'm the one who called the ambulance, you idiot."

"Oh." Humphrey had never inquired about what had happened after his head had turned to mush. He couldn't quite remember much until he got to hospital that day. "Thank you?"

"You're welcome."

“Don’t ask,” Humphrey muttered in Pat’s direction. Pat looked very much like he wanted to ask.

Silence fell again.

Until Pat’s head whipped up. “Hang on. Who won the competition?”

The tenants of Button House had assembled near the fountain. They were all bundled up in heavy coats, hats, scarves and gloves. Very necessary for what they were about to do.

"Why we here?" Robin leaned over.

Humphrey turned to frown at him. "To go on a hunt for a Christmas tree. For the drawing room."

The specification was necessary because there were quite a few trees already set up throughout the house. Small ones that the Captain had dragged in at the end of November. But the tree for the drawing room would be the main one. The one they would all decorate together and sit under on Christmas day. And so Lady Button had decided that they were all required to be present for the selection and subsequent death of said tree.

“Why we hunt Christmas tree? It got legs? We chase?” Robin turned to look at the trees in the distance with a suspicious glint in his eyes.

“No, we are going to find a Christmas tree,” Humphrey clarified.

"We can get tree in town? Car park at Sainborrow has tree sale." Robin was very keen on the amenities of modern life.

Humphrey sighed and just about resisted biting his own scarf out of sheer frustration. "It is tradition that the entire family comes together on Christmas Eve and goes out into the frosty landscapes to select the most important of all Christmas symbols and then spend the evening decorating it together." By the end Pat, Kitty, Julian and Thomas had joined in. Because Lady Button had recited this sentence to them at least twice per staff meeting and at every other opportunity throughout the month of December. It was clearly very important to her.

Technically, it wasn’t the day before Christmas Eve today. They would all be away to visit family and friends over the holidays, leaving only Lady B and the Captain in the house. Lady B had looked outright devastated at the prospect of them all leaving and so they had agreed to have an early Christmas celebration before they would all start rolling out on the 23rd. Today was the 21st. So Christmas Eve Eve Eve Eve?

"Christmas too much work," Robin huffed, snuggling into his big furry coat.

"Don't let Lady B hear that." Humphrey nodded to where she and the Captain were locking up the house, Dante, wearing a little red jumper, yapping at their feet. The three slowly made their way over to them. And now that Humphrey knew that the Captain and Lady B were siblings, he couldn’t un-see their similarities. They shared the same nose and eyes and the lines on their foreheads furrowed in exactly the same way when they frowned. Which they both liked to do a lot.

They both had that weird stiff way of walking although Humphrey knew that that was not necessarily genetic. One was the result of a long career in the military. The other a back broken in several places from an attempted murder. Not that different really if you thought hard enough.

Lady Button was dressed, unsurprisingly, in a long grey puffy coat that reached down to her ankles. Her elaborate hairstyle made the use of a hat difficult, so she had opted for ear muffs. The Captain was dressed in his trusty cargo trousers and a very practical khaki North Face jacket. Another sign that those two shared genes were their predictable colour schemes.

"Listen up, troops." The Captain came to a sharp stop right in front of them. He was carrying a long wooden stick. Not an old-man walking stick. More like a long tree branch he had dragged home some day. Julian muttered something under his breath that only Robin was close enough to hear and snicker about. "This mission," the Captain went on, undeterred, "will take a great deal of stealth and endurance. Some of us will not return the same men … and women … they are now. We will-"

"We're just looking for a Christmas tree, mate. This isn't the Army," Pat interrupted him. The Captain's scathing look made him falter. "Sir... Sorry, just ... yeah, go on. Sorry."

"Right." The Captain frowned and looked up at the grey sky. "Now I've forgotten what I wanted to say."

"Sorry, Sir," Pat mumbled down to his boots.

"Let's just check our inventory. Patrick?"

"Yes, Sir. Right here." Pat stepped forward and presented a beige backpack. It looked ready to burst.

The Captain nodded approvingly as he fished a piece of paper from his pocket. "I trust we have everything we need. First aid kit?"

"Yes." Pat held it up.

"Four walkie-talkies?"

"Check."

As the two geeks went through their list, Humphrey dared to look at the others. They all looked a mix between exasperated and amused.

"This looks more like we will be invading Germany this afternoon," Julian piped up. "Are we going to be back for dinner? Because I have a date tonight."

"Date?" Thomas’s scepticism was perfectly transmitted with that one word.

"Yes, date. D.A.T.E." Julian was awfully smug. Then he faltered a bit. "It's a meeting with my wife’s divorce lawyer."

"So official business?" Humphrey clarified. Because this needed to be clarified.

"Yeah, probably." Julian shrugged. "Wouldn't mind to have a bit of hanky-panky if I'm honest."

They all retched in response and desperately tuned back into whatever Pat and the Captain had going on.

"Emergency flare?"

What? Humphrey was starting to worry that this really was a campaign of war rather than a jolly walk through the woods.

"Oh." Pat's shoulders deflated a little. "Sorry, couldn't get my hands on one of those."

Robin raised his hand. "Have fireworks."

The Captain turned to him. "Excellent. How quick-"

"No. That won't be necessary." Lady B stepped forward. "I think we can manage without. Thank you, Robin."

Both Robin and the Captain frowned at her.

"I have some emergency biscuits if anyone gets peckish." Pat presented a packet of Jaffa Cakes and Hobnobs each. That seemed to placate the Captain a bit. "I think we're almost ready to go, Cap."

They all cheered. Standing around in the cold would not be fun for much longer.

"Right then. Let's march."

“No, Cap. Stop.”

“What is it, Patrick?”

Pat turned to the group at large. “Has everybody done a poo and a wee?”

“What on earth, Patrick?”

“Because we won’t be able to out there. I mean, you could. But we did not bring a shovel to dig a hole. And you really should, yannow? Don’t leave any traces.”

“Bear eat you?”

“There aren’t any bears around here, Robin.”

“I might get one just to be put out of my misery.”

“There’s no need for gloominess, Cap. Just have a think, everyone. If you feel like you might need to go soon, you probably wanna do it now.”

“Yeah, me go. In case.” Robin sped off as if his trousers had caught fire.

“I’m going to go too, actually.” Kitty followed after him, only slightly less hurried.

“Bally hell,” the Captain muttered.

By the time Kitty and Robin returned, Mary, Thomas and Julian had decided that they better visit the facilities too.

“Are we finally ready to go, Patrick?” The Captain asked through gritted teeth. He was leaning heavily against his walking stick.

“Yes, think so. Let’s go.”

The Captain and Dante took the lead and everyone followed them on a scenic route through the car park and into the grassy field beyond. Humphrey had never really been in this part of the property before. Not that there was much to see. Soggy grass gave way to barren trees eventually. The Captain told them to be careful of fallen branches and to stay away from larger piles of leaves. There was quite an obvious path to follow, so Humphrey wasn't sure what the Captain meant when he sternly told them to not get lost. They walked on in groups of two or three. If the path allowed.

So far, there were no conifers in sight and Humphrey wondered how far into the woods they would need to walk. Also, the property around Button House turned out to be much larger than he had imagined. And the Captain was meant to take care of all of this by himself? But then, he reckoned, forests could mostly take care of themselves probably. Or maybe they had left the property long ago? Were they in no-man's land? Or, God forbid, on Barclay Beg-Chetwynde's land?

"We there yet?"

A sigh of relief rose up from the group when Robin finally asked this most dwelling of questions.

The Captain came to a stop and turned around to face them. "We've only been walking for five minutes."

Humphrey peeled off his glove and retrieved his phone from his pocket. The Captain was right. Barely any time had passed since they had set off.

"Maybe it's time for a break?" Pat had already started the process of peeling the backpack off his back.

The Captain threw up his hands and performed a dramatic eyeroll but refrained from saying anything. Pat silently handed him a Jaffa Cake.

Dante whined and looked up at the biscuit. When the Captain refused to share with him, he slunk over to Pat to go begging right at the source. But Pat, who Humphrey had suspected to be very susceptible to puppy eyes, stood firm. Probably because Lady B was watching.

A low whistle brought the dog back to the Captain's side. The Captain had produced a little bag of dog treats from his pocket. Dante jumped up and down, barking at the sight of the little sausage-type things.

"No more than two," Lady B said firmly from the back of the group. She was nibbling her way through a Hobnob.

"Sure," the Captain muttered around the Jaffa Cake he held between his teeth as he reached into the bag for a third treat.

Instant karma for his disobedience hit him when he somehow got his biscuit and the dog treat mixed up in the process of shoving the plastic bag into his pocket and telling Dante not to climb up his leg. Humphrey had no time to warn him before the Captain bit down on the dog treat.

He instantly whined and spat out the treat before dry-heaving onto the ground. The others, who had not paid attention to him, stared at the Captain in abject horror. Dante, undeterred, ruffled through the leaves to find his treat.

"What on earth?" Lady B huffed as the Captain bent over and spat onto the forest floor several times.

"You alright, mate?" Pat walked up to him in concern.

"Give me that." The Captain ripped the packet of Hobnobs from Pat's hands and shoved three of them into his mouth at once. "I think I'm going to die," he muttered once he had swallowed them.

"Oh." Pat seemed unsure on what to do with that information. "Do you need the first aid kit? Maybe we should have brought some emergency fireworks after all."

"Just water," the Captain mumbled, hands on his knees, the packet of biscuits tugged between his arm and side.

Luckily, he and Pat had seemed to have foreseen the need for refreshments. Pat distributed water bottles to everyone. They were even labelled with names so that they would not get mixed up in the bag.

In the end, their little break took way longer than the walk here from Button House had. The Captain, recovered from his near-death experience, insisted on carrying the backpack. Probably to avoid another picnic.

They trekked onwards for a bit before the woods gave way to a small clearing. Beyond it Humphrey saw a field of different-sized conifers.

"The Button Family's Christmas tree farm," Lady B announced. "James Button planted the first sapling here in 1918. When he returned from the Great War." She turned to look at the Captain. "Your great-grandfather."

"Mh." The Captain did not really have anything else to say. But this information probably wasn't new to him even though Lady B had made it sound like it might be.

"Hang on." Humphrey's gaze wandered from the Captain to Lady B and back. "You are a Button?" He pointed at the Captain who nodded absently. He was looking out at the trees. The packet of biscuits was still tugged under his arm.

"And you are a Button." Humphrey turned to Lady B. "By marriage."

She nodded.

"But you're also siblings?"

"Uuuuuh. Sounds a bit incestuous to me." Julian had tuned into the conversation. He sounded more delighted than disgusted though.

"What?" The Captain startled out of his reverie. "No."

Lady B sighed. "We're half siblings. Same mother, different fathers. My ex-husband George was the Captain's father's cousin."

Humphrey needed a moment to work through that.

"Still sounds weird," Julian supplied, clearly still similarly caught up in the convoluted Button family tree.

"It is," the Captain agreed. He pulled on the straps of the backpack and marched off. Lady B looked after him.

"No judgy here." Robin nodded as he walked past her.

They all dispersed for a bit to admire the trees on offer. Lady B tutted at almost all of them for one reason or another while Kitty found them all ‘cute’, ‘adorable’ or a similar variant. Pat walked around like he was an art critic in a museum, hmm-ing and aah-ing expertly. Mary just wanted to know if they burned well. Dante did his best to mark them all as his.

"I was thinking maybe this one." They all eventually joined the Captain near a particular tree. He took off the backpack and leaned it against one of the smaller plants sprouting out off the ground around them.

"But it's crooked," Lady B protested immediately.

"If we position it just right, you won't notice," the Captain said, walking around it. "It looks perfectly straight from most angles."

"But I'll know it's crooked. No. No, that won't do. It's the most important tree in the house." Lady B marched away and came to a stop in front of another tree. This one was a bit shorter but otherwise looked exactly the same. "I find this one to be a much superior specimen. Look how full and lush it is."

The Captain followed her and everyone followed him. "I thought this one would be a good choice for next year,” he said. “The other one will be too tall for the drawing room then. It would go to waste."

"I do not want a crooked Christmas tree," Lady B declared. "Nothing with such imperfections enters my house."

"Fine," the Captain ground out, his features suddenly dark with some kind of emotion. He stared up at the tree.

"We bring saw?" Robin spoke up when the silence went on for a bit too long.

"Of course, we did," Humphrey said confidently and turned to Pat. "We did, right?"

Pat returned his gaze with wide eyes. "Did we? A saw was not on the inventory list. Captain, was a saw supposed to be on the inventory list? We didn't talk about saws."

The Captain, instead of answering, just wandered off. He seemed to have entered one of his moods.

"Anyone want another biscuit?" Pat held up the Jaffa Cakes again in a desperate attempt to not make this situation any more awkward.

Suddenly an ear-splitting roar went off behind them. They all screamed and whirled around to see the Captain walk towards them with a chainsaw.

Oh God. He had finally snapped. Because of a stupid Christmas tree. He was going to kill them all. Not with a shotgun like Humphrey had always thought but with a chainsaw. So it definitely wasn't going to be a quick death. Maybe some of them would have time to run? Humphrey tried to move himself behind Pat.

The Captain came to a stop before them, the chainsaw idling away in his hands. He was wearing a helmet with ear defenders and a visor that he now lifted to glare at them. "You probably want to move out of the way for this," he said very calmly.

They all scrambled away from him, eager to not be the first. The Captain stepped forward, through their parted middle and came to a stop right in front of the tree that Lady B had chosen.

Oh. Humphrey let out a sigh of relief.

Pat turned to give him a funny look. "You alright?"

Humphrey's answer, not that he was prepared to admit that his little scared-to-death episode had apparently been completely unwarranted, would have been drowned out by the roar of the chainsaw coming back to life, so he opted to not even bother to open his mouth.

But before the chainsaw finally got to work, it quietened down again and the Captain turned around to face them once more. He made a shooing motion with his hands, which was very effective because he was still holding the chainsaw. They all moved backwards a few more metres. "Stay away," the Captain ordered.

He had to crouch down quite a bit to get to the trunk of the tree. And that still wasn't enough. Or his knees wouldn't let him stay in that position, so he put the chainsaw on the ground and laid himself flat out on his belly. He glanced over his shoulder again, only to find Robin sneakily trying to encroach from the side.

They had a short verbal interaction that Humphrey could not hear over the idle rumbling of the chainsaw. In the end, they seemed to agree on a spot that Robin would be able to watch the proceedings without the tree falling on his big head. The tree cutting finally commenced.

It only took a few carefully placed cuts before the tree timbered to the ground, safely away from all of them.

They all cheered and clapped as the Captain cut off the chainsaw's engine and struggled to his feet. He walked past them without a word, taking off his safety helmet and thick work gloves. He disappeared behind some trees again. Humphrey looked at Pat who shrugged in return. Was the Captain really that upset about the tree?

The man came back into view on his quad bike-trailer combo that he must have parked off-screen beforehand. That’s probably where he had stored the chainsaw too. He glared them out of the way as he backed up to the tree.

"Patrick." A rope landed near where Humphrey and Pat were standing. "Your knot-tying skills are required." Oh, the Captain really was in a mood. He didn’t even say ‘please’.

Pat, ever the helpful soul, ignored the Captain's sharp tone and picked up the rope before trundling over to him. Humphrey could hear Pat blubber on about the best knot to use to tie the tree down. The Captain mostly ignored him. Instead he waved over Julian, Mary, Robin and Humphrey to help him heave the tree onto the trailer. He sponsored some gloves for everyone to use which was very thoughtful actually. The five of them managed the lifting just fine, although Humphrey was unsure how much of the success was down to his own contribution.

"Right. I'll see you all back at the house," the Captain said, once he had stored away all the safety gear and the chainsaw on his trailer. He swung himself up onto his quad bike. But before he could turn on the engine, Dante ran up to him, putting his little front paws near the Captain's foot. The little thing whined up at him, big ears drooping.

"Fine. Get up here." The Captain leaned over to pick Dante up.

"Out of the question." Lady B pushed herself through the crowd. "You do not put my dog on that death trap."

The Captain straightened up, minus the dog, and rolled his eyes. "We do it all the time, Fanny."

"Absolutely not. I forbid it."

"He loves it."

"No." Lady B stiffly bent down to pick Dante up herself. For a second it looked like the dog wanted to jump onto the Captain's lap but Lady B held him securely in her arms as she backed away from the quad bike.

The Captain glared after her. "Fine." A little quieter the Captain muttered, "You don't ever care about anything I have to say anyway." There was this feeling again that there was something larger lurking underneath. Larger than the Christmas tree or the dog riding the quad bike.

The Captain slowly drove away, regularly turning back to make sure that the tree was still following. His gaze met Humphrey's for just a second before he looked away again. And then he was gone.

"Is it me or do they give off a weird vibe sometimes?" Pat had sidled up next to him.

Humphrey did not get the chance to answer as Robin and Thomas got into a colourful argument about which way was the correct way back to the house.

Pat, as their resident Scout leader, was unanimously elected as their navigator.

By the time the front door of Button House came into view, dusk was falling. The quad bike and the tree were parked outside but the Captain was nowhere in sight. Understandable. It was getting quite cold out.

But he wasn't waiting in the drawing room either. Or the kitchen. Where Mary and Julian got to work on some mulled wine and cider. Humphrey voiced his reservations about Julian’s involvement in the process but was ignored. He mentally prepared himself to be absolutely smashed by the end of the night.

Lady B led the rest of them upstairs to retrieve the Christmas tree decorations from the attic. In a sea of antique paraphernalia and general rubbish (even to Humphrey’s historian eyes) stood the Captain, glowering at a box of colourful Christmas baubles. Who knew what they had done to receive his unfiltered ire like that.

“Why are you hiding up here?” Pat asked, unsympathetic to the Captain’s mood.

The Captain glanced up, looking a lot less grumpy all of a sudden. “I’m not hiding. I’m searching.”

“Oh.” Pat sidled up next to him. “What are you looking for?”

“The Christmas tree decorations,” the Captain said, staring at Pat as if he too didn’t understand why the man lacked enough sense of self-preservation to come anywhere near him.

Pat nodded, smiling brightly as he looked into the box. “You found them. Good job.” Weirdly, he managed to say that without sounding at all patronising.

“These are the wrong ones,” the Captain told him and sat the box down on some ill-looking armchair that had probably been past its prime back in the Georgian era.

“But they are so pretty.” Kitty had walked over to inspect them from up close.

Lady B cleared her throat. “They lack any and all taste and do not deserve to be in this house for a minute longer.”

“Yes, you are right.” Kitty nodded without taking her eyes off them. “They’re garish and vulgar.”

They didn’t look too bad in Humphrey’s opinion. Simple baubles in red, green and white wouldn’t go amiss on a Christmas tree, right?

“Okay.” Pat clapped his hands together. “Any clue where we can find the decorations we want?”

“No.” The Captain shrugged and gave a pointed look to their surroundings. “There is no organisational system in place. And most of this stuff got moved around this last year. When we were looking for furnishing and decorations for the showrooms.”

Humphrey had been part of that process. Before the manor had opened to the public. They had found some real treasures up here. But also a lot of junk that evidently nobody had bothered to carry downstairs and get rid of.

“Right.” Pat stood there with gleaming eyes. A man on a mission. “Let’s get to it then.”

The Captain cheered up once he realised he could create a search grid and order them about.

By the time they found the correct decorations (there had been two more false alarms) and returned downstairs, Julian was in a bit of an inebriated state from whatever mulled alcoholic drink he had tried to come up with. He got a bit swear-y when Thomas pointed out that he would be unable to drive anywhere tonight and would be forced to cancel his ‘date’. Julian tried to blame his drunkenness on Mary.

“I not be takin’ blames for somethings I hads no hands in,” she told him firmly while handing out hot drinks to everyone else. “You be grumpy no more?” She asked the Captain when she walked over to where he was kneeling between one of the sofas and the fireplace. He was setting up the tree stand. They had found it purely by accident.

“No,” he said meekly. He sounded properly scolded without even having been scolded. He accepted a mug with mulled wine with a quiet “Thank you.”

“You be good,” Mary told him before turning away to get a drink for herself. The Captain was left to blink at the ceiling.

“Right,” he mumbled to himself. “Be good.”

Humphrey only heard him because he was sitting closest to him.

The Captain stood up and slunk his way through the crowd and out of the front door.

“Is he coming back?” Pat asked him when the Captain had been gone for a while.

Humphrey shrugged.

“Maybe I should go check.” Pat got up.

Humphrey followed him. Because he wanted to check too. And he didn’t want Pat to suffer the fall-out alone if the Captain lashed out.

They found the man outside. He had left the front door wide open and he wasn’t dressed for the cold temperatures outside, so it did look like he had planned to return.

“You alright, mate?” Pat approached him.

“Yes.” The Captain tugged on one of the ropes that secured the tree to the quad bike trailer.

“You need help?”

“Ye-no.” He looked up.

“Maybe we can help you anyway?” Pat stepped ever closer to him.

The Captain stared at him for a few long seconds. “Can you please loosen your knots?” He asked eventually.

“Oh. Yes, of course.” Pat moved to stand right next to him. “I’ll show you how.”

“Sorry,” the Captain said.

“For what?” Pat looked up at him.

“For not doing it myself. I-I tried but I couldn’t get the ropes loose. But I’ll try to remember for next time.”

“Okay?” Pat wrinkled his nose. “But it’s fine if you don’t remember. I’m always happy to help.”

The Captain looked at Pat for another long moment. “Oh.”

“I really am.”

“Okay.” The Captain shuffled his feet.

“Here, take this end.” Pat showed him how to loosen the first knot and then guided him through the second and third. The fourth knot the Captain managed to do almost entirely by himself.

“Oh, I did it.” He looked baffled at himself and then he beamed. Absolutely fucking beamed.

“Good job, Captain,” Pat murmured.

And that made the Captain smile even wider. It was glorious to see.

But also kind of heartbreaking? Humphrey did not want to dwell on it, so he stepped back inside and told the others to come help carry the tree inside.

“I need to adjust for a shaft of this girth,” the Captain said five minutes later as he fiddled with the tree stand.

“I bet you do,” Julian muttered. He was swaying from side to side and had tree sap in his hair, so Humphrey refrained from pushing him for making fun of the Captain.

“Okay, ready,” the Captain announced from his perch on the floor. “Lift it up. I’ll guide you in.”

More accidental innuendos followed and Julian did get a kick to the shin at one point for laughing.

“Yes, that’s it,” the Captain eventually said. “Oh, well done. Yes, that’s a firm position right there.” He stood up and glanced at Pat for a fleeting moment before addressing the group at large. “Good job everyone.”

“You too, mate,” Humphrey told him and it really was that easy to make the Captain smile.

“It’s Christmaaaaas!”

“Yes, thank you, Robin.” Lady Button was quick in shooting down Robin’s announcement.

Pat was the fourth to arrive in the drawing room this morning. And he wasn’t the only one still dressed in pyjamas, thank goodness. Robin was wearing a brown tartan number which Pat wouldn’t dare to call outright ugly but it certainly wasn’t easy on the eye. Lady Button and the Captain were properly dressed of course. The latter, in a red jumper and jeans (which Mary would be thrilled about), was huddled on one of the sofas.

“You alright, mate?” Pat asked when he sat down next to him.

“Hm?” The Captain opened his eyes. He looked different somehow. Half-asleep for one.

“You okay?” Pat asked again.

“Yeah, fine.”

“Late night last night?” Pat knew for a fact that the Captain and him had been two of the last ones to go to bed after they had finished decorating the tree. But it had only been about half nine then. And the mulled wine had not flown as freely as beer sometimes did in this house. Pat felt absolutely fine. But maybe the Captain had sneaked in a couple more drinks?

“Not really,” the Captain told him. He propped up his arm on the sofa’s armrest and laid his chin in his hand in an unusual lack of decorum. He closed his eyes again, clearly done with the conversation.

Pat looked at him more closely. And realised why he had thought that the Captain looked different. He hadn’t shaved this morning so he had a bit of a stubble going on.

The Captain jerked back awake when Robin once again announced: “It’s Christmaaaaas.”

Humphrey slunk into the room, dressed in pyjamas as well. Good man. Christmas mornings were meant to be spent in pyjamas. Even though it wasn’t technically Christmas morning yet. He would be spending that at his parents’ house up in Yorkshire. With Daley. He’d be picking his boy up later today.

“Morning lads.” Humphrey dropped himself next to Pat. The sofa did not have much in terms of cushioning or Pat and the Captain might have bounced right off.

“Mmmh.” The Captain did not even bother to open his eyes.

“Oh, sorry.” Humphrey leaned forward to look at him. “Not a good morning?” He glanced at Pat with raised eyebrows when the Captain offered no further details.

“Apparently.” Pat shrugged.

“You need an aspirin or something?” Humphrey asked.

The Captain did not respond.

“Or a tea?” Humphrey scrunched up his nose. “I could do with a tea. Robin!”

“What?”

“Help me get some tea for everyone.”

“Why?”

“Because we all want tea.”

“Pat?”

“I’m from Yorkshire, mate. I always want tea.”

“Lady?”

“I wouldn’t say no to a cup of tea. But please use the tea leaves from my shelf. For everyone. And the tea pots from the cabinet. And proper tea cups. We are not apes. Especially on Christmas.”

“Okay? Captain?”

“Hm.”

“Yeah, he definitely needs tea. Come on.” Humphrey tugged his brother along.

“You tell ‘em is Christmaaaaass, okay?” Robin pointed at Pat just before he was pulled away entirely.

It got a bit awkward then because neither Lady Button nor the Captain seemed to be up for chit chat. But Pat still got that weird feeling, like he had to say something instead of just listening to the soft Christmas music playing from the speakers. He cheered inside when Thomas slunk into the room.

“Love it,” Pat told him with a nod to the green Christmas cardigan he was wearing. There were googly eyes on the reindeer bouncing around on it.

“Oh thank you. It was a gift from my lovely Isabelle.”

Pat felt his eyebrows raise in surprise. “Has she finally spoken to you?” The tale of Thomas and Isabelle was as convoluted as it was well known to the Button House residents.

“No,” Thomas sighed and dramatically sat down on the sofa opposite them. “But I just know that this is the kind of gift she would bestow upon me. She is such a humorous person.”

Pat wished for the awkward silence from before to return but Thomas went on a tangent on what else Isabelle probably would have gifted him and what he would have gotten for her in return. He felt the Captain’s breathing pick up and saw his fist clench.

“Good moooorning.” Kitty and Mary entered the room, the latter pulling a half-asleep Julian behind her. He looked like Mary had lifted him straight from bed and carried him here. They were lucky that he apparently did not tend to sleep naked. Which was totally something Pat had thought Julian did. Instead he wore a very, very silky looking red pyjama set. Probably very expensive. But also probably very soft.

Pat complimented Kitty on her choice of Christmas jumper. It had candy canes and unicorns and sparkles and should definitely be categorised as a cause for eye cancer.

She sat down next to Pat and stage-whispered, “Is the Captain sleeping?”

“No,” the Captain muttered, opened his eyes for a second, saw Kitty’s jumper and immediately closed them again.

“Oh good,” Kitty replied. “I wouldn’t want you to miss out on the presents. Lady Button ordered Father Christmas to come early just for us.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” the Captain muttered into his hand.

Pat had suspected that Lady Button had something planned when she had proposed, insisted really, to have an early Christmas celebration with all of them. And now he saw the stockings hanging over the fireplace. And they were stuffed.

“It’s Chrismaaaaaasssss.”

Robin speed-walked into the room, a tray with a teapot and tea cups in his hands. Lady Button shrieked and admonished him immediately for putting her precious china in danger like that. Humphrey and another tray followed at a more sedate pace.

Drinks in dainty tea cups were handed out and everyone squished themselves onto the sofas and the one armchair because Lady Button was clearly gearing up for a speech.

“Sorry, mate,” Pat whispered when he was practically pushed onto the Captain’s lap to accommodate Humphrey on the other end of the sofa.

The Captain just grunted in response and moved to teeter precariously on the armrest.

Lady Button stepped between the two sofas. Even Dante, who Pat had not seen dozing in the dog bed near the fireplace until now, lifted his little head. “Now that we’re all here,” she began, “I just want to thank each and every one of you for your hard work. Every day you contribute so much to make Button House a successful business. You guide and teach,” she nodded at Pat, Humphrey and Thomas, “you bake and serve,” at Kitty and Mary, “you repair and maintain,” Robin and the Captain, “you…,” she faltered a bit when she reached Julian, “you advice.”

The Captain snorted but managed to cover it up with a slurpy sip of his tea. Lady Button seemed not to have noticed.

“But you do so much more,” she continued. “You make Button House a home. This house lacked life and joy for so many years. I am so thankful that in just this past year, we have all done our part to bring it all back.” She definitely sniffled a little. “And I believe that Father Christmas has indeed come,” she had to pause to wait for Kitty to stop squealing, “to show you how much you are appreciated.”

Some of them clapped, some cheered, someone, probably Julian, whistled.

“Captain,” Lady Button hissed.

“What?” The Captain startled and almost fell off the armrest. “Oh, yes.” He stood up and wandered over to the stockings. They were all red, each with one of their names on the white trim.

The Captain detached the first one from the mantle and walked over to Robin. “Ho ho ho,” he muttered in the most deadpan voice.

“Thank you, elf.” Robin accepted his stocking and peeked inside immediately. He pulled out a Terry’s Chocolate Orange. “Ah, chocolate orange. Or is orange chocolate?”

The Captain distributed all the other stockings to their rightful recipients. Each version of “Ho ho ho” or “Merry Christmas” was delivered with more sarcasm.

“Thank you, Captain,” Julian said so sincerely that the Captain was not the only one who did a double-take. Then Julian grinned. “You’re such a good helper.”

“Fuck off,” the Captain hissed. He was so lucky that Lady Button had stepped to the side to refill her cup of tea.

Even Lady Button seemed to have received something in her stocking. She looked a bit puzzled about that herself. The little grin the Captain tried to hide when he turned away from her, did not bode well for at least one of them.

“We open now?” Robin asked when they all hovered over their stockings. The chocolate orange had been the only item revealed so far.

“Yes.”

And the room turned into mayhem. Why people started screaming was beyond Pat. He admired the stocking itself for a moment. It was incredibly soft and his name had been hand-stitched into the fabric.

Inside he found various Christmas sweets, among them a chocolate orange of course, knitted socks, a high quality pocket knife and an envelope. When he opened it, he found two tickets to a Huddersfield game in March and a Christmas card that told him and Daley to have fun at the game.

He walked up to his boss who was watching them with a rare but genuine smile on her face. “Thank you very much, Lady B,” he told her.

“You are welcome, Patrick.” Her eyes smiled the same way the Captain’s did.

“You open sock?” Robin spoke up and pointed at Lady Button’s stocking.

“I’m not sure I want to,” she said with a glance to the Captain. The crinkling noise her stocking made when she put her hand on it, brought Dante onto the scene immediately. He sat down at her feet with an expectant look.

The Captain had returned to his perch on the armrest and watched her and Dante with unabashed curiosity. He looked a bit more awake now but quite pale. The contents of his stocking were piled high on his lap. He was the lucky recipient of at least three pairs of woolly socks.

“What on earth?” Lady Button stepped back as bag after bag of dog treats tumbled out of her stocking and onto the floor. Dante was in absolute heaven as he scrambled after them.

The Captain chuckled while Lady Button shrieked. “No, no no. Outrageous. No.”

“Come here, old boy,” the Captain murmured and knelt on the floor. He waited for Dante to drag a bag of treats over. “No more than two,” he told the dog in a clear imitation of Lady Button who spluttered in disbelief.

“Outrageous,” she said again. “He hasn’t even had breakfast yet.”

“Oh.” Robin tried to hide the chocolate orange he’d been munching on behind his back. “Me good boy,” he mumbled.

“Oh yes.” Pat clapped his hands together in excitement. And with a glance at his watch. He’d be needing to get on the road soon to pick up Daley in time for Christmas dinner. “Talking of breakfast …”

Pat knocked on the Captain's bedroom door. He had never visited the man's quarters before. He had not even known that this hallway, located off the main staircase on the ground floor, existed. Until a few weeks ago when the Captain had mysteriously appeared out of nowhere while Pat had been walking down the stairs. Pat was almost certain that the other door in the short corridor belonged to Lady Button's room.

The door opened only wide enough for the Captain's face to be visible. He blinked down at Pat and then he opened the door a bit wider so that the light from the room let Pat see him a bit better.

The Captain looked rather rumpled. He had taken off his jumper and the shirt underneath was creased, his hair had a bit of a swoop going on and he was still rather pale. His eyes had that puffiness to them that made it obvious that he had recently been asleep.

"Did you need something?" The Captain's low-voiced question made Pat realise that he might have been staring a bit too long.

"Yeah, sorry." Pat adjusted his glasses. "Daley's here. In the drawing room. He's got a present for you."

"A-a present?" Pat had never seen anyone so alarmed at the prospect of receiving a gift before. The Captain looked petrified. "I-I-I I did not get Daley a present. I-I didn't know I was supposed to get him something. I'm sorry. Nobody told me."

"That's fine, Cap." Pat hoped that his smile looked reassuring. "You weren't supposed to get him anything. He's got enough stuff, trust me."

That did not make the Captain look any less distressed.

"I tried to stop him, yannow, but he insisted. Even tried to pay for it with his pocket money."

That was definitely the wrong thing to say. The Captain's hand grabbed the doorframe as if to keep himself upright.

"I didn't let him, of course," Pat added quickly, afraid that the other man was about to pass out. "Paid for it myself. And it wasn't that much."

The Captain turned to look at something behind him for a second. "I-I can pay you back."

What? Did he not know how gifts worked?

"Do you not know how gifts work?"

"N-no? Yes?" The Captain frowned. "Yes, I do."

He definitely didn't.

"I didn't get Daley anything," the Captain said again.

"Yeah, you seem a bit hung up on that, mate. Gift giving isn't a trade, yannow? He just saw something he thought you might like. You probably won't, by the way, but maybe you can pretend? He just wanted to make you happy." And I do too, Pat added in his head.

"Oh." The Captain dropped the hand that had been gripping the doorframe for dear life. "Why?"

"Because he thinks you're the coolest person ever." You also seem to be the densest but Pat refrained from voicing that thought out loud.

The Captain stared at him as if Pat had just grown two more heads. This man's emotional state was a piece of wor-

"Captain!"

Daley came clattering down the hallway. He had taken a nap on the car ride over here and had been still a bit sleepy when Pat had deposited him on the sofa in the drawing room. But he was back to his bouncy self now. "Captain. Hi."

The Captain blinked down at the blubbering child in front of him. "Hello," he finally managed to croak out.

"Guess what, Captain?"

More confused blinking took place.

Even Daley seemed to realise that the Captain was incapable of guessing anything right now. So he got all up into the man's personal space and grabbed his hand. "Father Christmas left a present for you at my mummy's house. I put it under the tree for you."

Is that what they were going with? Pat's parents had told Daley a similarly convoluted story to explain their Christmas presents to him when the boy was three. Daley had seen right through it and figured out that Father Christmas wasn't real before he had ever really believed in that sort of thing.

"Come see." Daley managed to pull the Captain away from the door he had made a weak attempt of hiding behind this entire time.

They walked into the drawing room where, to the Captain's very obvious chagrin, everyone was waiting for them.

"What's going on with him?" Humphrey whisper-asked when Pat sat down next to him. They watched as the Captain was forced to creakily kneel in front of the Christmas tree.

"I wish I knew," Pat said through gritted teeth while simultaneously trying to smile.

Daley handed over his present as he held a monologue about his gift-finding adventures. Pat could have sworn it had been less dramatic than Daley now made it out to be. The Captain peeled back the hideous wrapping paper (the shop had only had hideous ones, so naturally Daley had gone for the most ugly of them all) as if something might jump out and bite him. Pat wondered why he would think that. The whole thing was about as flat as a thin paperback.

"I bet is horsie." Robin, just like everyone else, had leaned over in anticipation. Daley giggled.

"I hope it's a racecar," Humphrey chimed in.

The Captain had stopped his painfully slow unwrapping process when he realised that everyone was staring at him. Pat could see his throat bob as he swallowed.

"Right." Pat slapped his knees when it became apparent that the Captain was not going to proceed with his unwrapping as long as he had a vulturous audience. "What's the status on dinner? I bet there's more potatoes that need peeling."

"Nah, mate. We did all that while you -" Humphrey cut himself off when Pat elbowed him in the ribs and glanced sideways at the Captain. "Oh, yeah. Maybe we should all go check on the turkey. Like all of us." He pulled Robin off the other sofa. "Come on. Do I smell burning?"

All of Button House's residents, safe for Pat, Daley and the Captain, were ushered out of the room. With great protestations in Lady Button's case. Dante had lazily lifted his head at the hubbub but when he saw that the Captain was still present, he went back to snoozing.

The Captain cleared his throat and swallowed again before finally lifting the last layer of wrapping paper to reveal, and Pat was actually ashamed that he had spent money on this but it had made Daley so happy, a dark green tie with little green and yellow John Deere lawnmowers on it.

"Just like yours." Daley was visibly stoked as he leaned over to point at the offending object.

The Captain lifted the tie up to his face to squint at the lawnmowers up close. Even without his glasses he could probably tell that they were a completely different model to the one he owned. And he would probably tell them in a two-hour monologue. He stared at the tie for far longer than was necessary to determine its amount of ugliness. Even Daley shifted away from him awkwardly when the silence became too long.

"So they are." The Captain whispered his words as if he was fucking awestruck. "Good eye, Daley."

The boy melted right into the Captain's side.

The Captain didn't even stiffen up for very long before he lifted the tie out of its packaging. He popped up the collar of his shirt and had manoeuvred the tie into a neat Windsor within seconds. Quite impressive.

"That was super fast." Daley sounded fascinated too. "Da always takes ages."

"Yeah, alright, mate. Steady on." Pat glared at his son. He wasn't that slow. Knots were his thing after all. Just not tie knots. Sometimes he needed a little reminder from YouTube.

"Thank you for your gift, Daley." The Captain smiled down at the boy now halfway sitting in his lap. Then his gaze shifted. "And thank you, Patrick."

The Captain's smile was just slightly strained. He probably really hated the tie and would take it off the minute Daley was in bed tonight. And then nobody would see it ever again. Which was fair.

"Yeah, no problem, Cap. Looks good on you."

The Captain made a noise in his throat and blinked into the middle-distance for a bit.

"I helped you fix your lawnmower, right?" Daley stared up at the Captain.

The man startled out of his crisis. "Oh. Yes, you did."

"See?" Daley now glared at Pat.

"Did that really happen? I thought Daley just made that up."

"No he did. Did a good job, too."

"When did this happen?" Pat did not remember letting Daley out of his sight long enough to fix a bloody lawnmower. Not while the boy was in his care, at least. These days he was forced to let him out of his sight more than Pat liked.

"Couple months ago?" The Captain seemed unsure. "September maybe?"

Pat was so confused. Because September fell into the time that shall not be talked about. Back when the Captain had still been a bit of a pri-

"See?" Daley's outrage was quite loud and made the Captain flinch. "I didn't lie."

"I'm sorry for assuming that." Pat opened his arms and Daley readily followed his invitation for a hug. "But you make up stories all the time. Just on the drive here you told me about that one time you went to outer space."

"But I did," Daley whined as he got comfortable on Pat's lap. "In my dream last night."

Pat wrapped his arms tightly around him and pressed a kiss to his head.

The Captain scooted himself back to lean against the arm of the other sofa without actually getting up off the floor. He had closed his eyes but he still didn't really look relaxed. His hands laid in tight fists on his thighs. He seemed quite focused on breathing evenly. In and out. In and out.

"You alright, Cap?" Pat looked at him closely. He was still awfully pale.

"Mmmh." In and out. "Tell me the story about that trip to outer space, Daley."

Daley leaned forward. "Do you wanna be in it, Captain?"

"Sure."

After a riveting story about Daley and the Captain fighting aliens on the moon (Pat was given an honourable mention as ground control in a single paragraph towards the end), they enjoyed a bit of companionable silence for about three seconds before the Captain abruptly got to his feet and hastened out of the room.

Daley made an attempt to clamber after him but Pat held him back. Who knew what was going on with the Captain today but he did not want Daley to be hit by the crossfire if that man suddenly lashed out.

"Daaa." Daley struggled in his arms.

"Sssh. Let him be for a bit, yeah? Do you wanna do the puzzle you brought?"

"I wanna play Twister." Daley pulled himself out of Pat's arms and ran over to the bag that Pat had brought in from the car.

"Great idea, mate." Twister was grand. Not necessarily as an almost forty-year-old. But generally great fun. Who knew why Daley thought it’d be a great idea to bring the game to his grandparents’ house.

They spread out the mat safely away from the fireplace and the sofas to avoid injury. A slipped disc was still in the cards but oh well. Anything for his boy. Just as Daley picked up the spinner to instruct Pat on his first move, Julian, Thomas and Kitty reappeared. Apparently they had been thrown out of the kitchen by Lady Button for being less than helpful.

"Oh, I love this game." Kitty bounced over immediately. "How do you play?"

And that is how Pat ended up pretzeled around Thomas and underneath Kitty and far too close to Julian's groin (one was always far too close to Julian's groin, even when one wasn't in the same room with him) while Daley cackled on in the background. Cheeky little blighter.

"Uuuh, love to see that." Humphrey called from somewhere off-screen. "Who's winning?"

"Me!" was heard from several directions. Pat was in pure survival mode at this point and did not care one bit about who won.

"Well, dinner's ready." Humphrey had moved closer. "Try not to kill yourselves while you get de-tangled."

They had to perform a very time-consuming and well-planned manoeuvre to get everyone upright without injury but they did manage in the end.

"Where's the Captain?" Humphrey had sidled up to Pat as he made sure that all his body parts were still attached. "He run off at the prospect of being touched by anyone?"

"No, he left before that." Pat bent over and his back let out a serious crack. "He's a bit weird today, isn't he?"

"Isn't he always?" Humphrey toed the Twister mat with his slipper. The others had made their way out of the room by now.

"Yeah." Pat adjusted his glasses. They had gone a bit askew during the game and he was finally allowed to put them back in their proper place. "Asked him if he was ill or something but he denied it of course."

"Of course he did. Thought he looked a bit peaky earlier though." Humphrey frowned. "Maybe he doesn't like Christmas. Everyone together. All day."

"Yeah, maybe." Pat shrugged his shoulders. "Let's go ask if he wants to come to dinner."

They only made it as far as the main staircase before the Captain appeared. He was still wearing the lawnmower tie.

"Dinner's ready if you want some," Humphrey told him. “And great tie.”

The Captain glanced down. “Thank you. Daley gave it to me.”

"So, dinner?” Pat asked. “Or I can fix you a plate if you wanna eat by yourself?" Pat twisted his fingers anxiously.

The Captain stared at them for a few seconds. "Yeah, no. I'll come with you."

"Great." Pat smiled and fist-bumped the air to stop himself from slinging an arm around the Captain and pulling him along. "Let's go. I bet the turkey will be amazing."

The turkey was indeed amazing. Pat had only taken one bite so far but he knew he'd be going in for seconds. Even if it killed him. His eyes fell on the Captain's plate. "Not one for turkey?"

"Hm?" The Captain looked up when he realised he was being addressed.

"More of a goose guy?" Pat pointed to the Captain's plate that only held two small potatoes and some Brussel sprouts.

"What? No." The Captain looked down at his plate. "I don't eat meat."

"Oh really?"

The Captain shrugged almost apologetically.

"You could have said, mate. We could have cooked something else." They'd had a discussion about Christmas dinner a few weeks ago. Robin had requested 'bum and chips'. They had promised him that he would get the rear end of the turkey that almost everyone else had voted for and there was a giant bowl of chips sitting next to the potatoes. Why had the Captain not said anything?

"No, it's fine. I don't mind eating sides." The Captain poked at one of the sprouts with his fork. It didn't look like he had eaten anything yet.

Pat stared at the slice of turkey drowning in gravy on his own plate. Then at the half-butchered bird at the centre of the table. "Does it make you uncomfortable to sit here and watch everyone else eat meat?"

"No."

"You can go eat somewhere else if it does, yannow? If it bothers you."

Pat immediately realised that the Captain did not take his offer for what it was.

The other man carefully put his fork down and put his hands against the table as if to push his chair away and get up. "Fine, I'll leave."

"No, Cap." Pat put his hand on the Captain's arm to stop him. The Captain pulled away immediately but stayed long enough for Pat to keep talking. "I just ... I don't want you to leave. But if you don't want to eat with all that meat around, we could go eat somewhere else? You and me? I don't need turkey." It would not be his favourite of Christmas dinners if he just had potatoes and sprouts without even gravy to spice things up. But if it meant that the Captain did not have to eat alone, he would do it. He might get lucky and have some leftover turkey later.

The Captain stayed in his position, bracing himself against the table. It made Humphrey on his other side give him the shifty-eye.

"I'll get myself another plate." Pat made to stand up.

"No." The Captain put his hands in his lap. "Don't do that. You can stay here."

"Only if you stay too. But if the meat bothers you, we can-"

"The meat's fine." The Captain seemed to be gritting his teeth.

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay." Pat picked up his utensils to cut a potato on his plate in half. Out of the corner of his eye he watched the Captain stare at his own plate.

"The sprouts are very good," Pat commented after swallowing one down. He had never been a big fan of them but these ones weren't half bad.

"Aren't they?" Humphrey leaned over to serve himself some more. "Lady B knows how to work these bad boys."

"Mmh." The Captain finally picked up his fork again and Pat cheered silently. "Grandmother Heather's recipe."

"Grandma Heather with the apples?” Pat asked.

The Captain proceeded to cut a sprout into fours. "Yes. She was a very good cook."

"Oh really? Did she teach you some cool dishes?"

"No. I can barely boil water properly." The Captain continued to push the vegetables around on his plate. "She was ... by the time I was old enough, a stroke had taken her out. Not out out. But she wasn’t able to do much anymore. Fanny learned a lot from her though. She inherited all her recipe books and practically her whole kitchen."

"Oh. How far apart in age are you and Lady B?" Humphrey had leaned in from the other side.

"Um. About 15 years."

"Oh, so you didn't really grow up together." Might explain their weird dynamic.

"No, not really." Finally a piece of sprout was transferred into the Captain's mouth. He did not seem to enjoy the experience.

"Not a fan?" Pat wondered again why the Captain had not requested something else be served for Christmas dinner. At least a different vegetable if he didn't like Brussel sprouts.

"It's alright." The Captain shrugged and cut his potatoes into miniature pieces.

Pat and Humphrey exchanged a puzzled look behind his back. They were then distracted by Robin’s detailed description of what his ‘bum’ piece tasted like.

Pat was selected to light the Christmas pudding because, as it turned out, he was the only one who had ever done it before.

“Alright, sit back, everyone.” Pat stood in the place of honour at one end of the table with the Christmas pudding right in front of him.

He had been forced to ward of Robin a few times because the man was desperate to just poke the pudding with his finger. Lady B was sitting right beside Pat, the others all leaned forward in their seats to see the pudding properly. The Captain, who had not managed to finish his meagre portion of vegetables, stared right at Pat with a blank expression.

“Okay, now,” Pat went on. “This puddin’ is highly flammable and we don’t wanna be spending Christmas in Accident&Emergency. Okay? Here we go.”

The pudding went up in flames just like it was supposed to. A thing of beauty. Cheers and shouts of “Merry Christmas” rang out.

“Good job, Da,” Daley told him as Pat walked past him to help distribute pudding to everyone. “Can I do it at Grandpa and Grandma’s house?”

“Absolutely not. Grandpa hasn’t even let me do it in all these years.”

“Aw.” Daley pouted only until Humphrey placed a slice of Christmas pudding in front of him.

“Is this pudding vegetarian?” Pat wondered. He had meant to hand the plate in his hand to the Captain but now he paused. He had not only lit these puddings on fire before, he had helped his mum cook them all throughout his childhood. Carol and him had always made them together too. And those definitely hadn’t been vegetarian.

“It isn’t,” the Captain told him. He was looking up at the ceiling for some reason.

“Oh.” Pat looked down at the pudding. “Does Lady B not know you’re vegetarian?” Just like with them, the Captain might not have ever mentioned it to her. Pat wouldn’t put it past him.

“She does. But it’s Grandmother Heather’s recipe.”

“She could have replaced the animal fat with something else, surely?” Most of them probably wouldn’t have noticed. And no one would have minded.

“Would not have been the same recipe,” the Captain bit out. He clenched his jaw together so hard that Pat could hear his teeth grind together. “Excuse me.” The Captain stood up and left the room.

The others stared after him before they turned to Pat for an explanation.

Pat only shrugged and sat down to eat his pudding in silence.

After dinner and the ensuing clean-up, they all needed a bit of a rest. So they watched ‘Home Alone 2’ in the telly room upstairs. Most of them fell asleep. To re-energise them all afterwards, Pat suggested to play some games. So they trundled down the stairs to the drawing room. Because Lady Button had lamented the fact, that they wouldn’t be able to enjoy the Christmas tree otherwise.

They had just started a game of charades when the front door opened.

“Oh, there you all are,” the Captain said as he appeared in the doorway. Dante sauntered into the room ahead of him. Lady B had noticed the dog’s absence when they had still been in the kitchen and she had gone to look for him. She had returned empty-handed but unconcerned, so Pat had figured that Dante had followed the Captain to wherever he had disappeared to.

Looked like they had gone for an extensive walk. The Captain’s cheeks and ears were flushed pink from the cold. Before he took his own coat off, he grabbed Dante and peeled the dog’s little red jumper off him. Dante nibbed his fingers playfully and the Captain admonished him half-heartedly.

“Do you wanna join in?” Pat asked him. The Captain looked in a better mood now, so he decided to take his chances. “To even out the teams?”

“Alright?” The Captain did not sound convinced.

Julian was currently performing some very suggestive dance moves that the Captain could not tear his eyes away from. Pat saw that Humphrey had covered Daley’s eyes with his hand, despite the boy’s protestations.

After charades, they divided themselves between Kerplunk and the finger-eating crododile thing that Daley had brought along on his last visit and forgotten to take back to Carol’s afterwards. Thomas was not a fan of the crocodile. He shrieked every time the toy’s mouth snapped shut even after they moved him to the Kerplunk group.

Daley suggested another round of Twister after that.

“Wha- what’s that?” The Captain asked as he watched Daley, Kitty and Humphrey spread out the mat. “What’s Twist-It?”

“Twister. It’s the most amazing game ever,” Pat told him. “It’s soooo funny.” When you weren’t in the midst of it.

“Right.”

Belatedly, Pat remembered what Humphrey had said about Twister being exactly the kind of game that would make the Captain run. Because it involved touching people. Which the Captain hated. So Pat said, “We can just watch though.” There wasn’t enough room for all of them anyway.

“Come on, Captain,” Kitty said when they were getting ready for a third round. “You want to join in?” He, Thomas and Lady Button were the only ones who had not played yet.

“N-no,” he stuttered. “I couldn’t possibly.” He cleared his throat.

“Come on,” Mary said, looking up from her pre-game stretches. “It’s Christmas.”

“I-I …”

“I’ll help you,” Kitty said.

Pat watched, spinner in hand, as Kitty walked over to the Captain, looked him dead in the eye and took hold of his hand. Surprisingly, he let himself be pulled over to the mat.

“Thomas, you joining in, too?” Pat asked.

Thomas had been staring at his phone for a few minutes now and judging by his facial expression, he wasn’t enjoying what he was seeing on it. He was all sad-faced and frowny. Even his curls seemed to be drooping.

“I’m occupied, thank you,” he mumbled.

“No, he doesn’t have the physical discipline for Twist-It,” the Captain spoke up. “He’s afraid he’ll lose.”

Okay, rude? But also, why was the Captain so provocative all of a sudden. Also also, he had been reluctant to join the game himself.

“Balderdash.” Thomas stood up out of sheer indignation. “I’d thrash you all at Twist-It, then run a mile.”

“Prove it then.” The Captain had a weird glint in his eyes.

“Fine,” Thomas said, tossing his phone onto the sofa behind him. “Fine.”

They should have known that it wouldn’t end well.

Within five minutes, both Kitty and Mary had voluntarily left the game because the Captain and Thomas were outright alpha-maling it out. Thomas’s face was pressed into the Captain’s thigh which the latter was definitely not enjoying at all. He kept trying to move away from the contact but he didn’t have much wiggle room. He and Thomas had managed to get so entangled, that, if one of them went down, they would both fall. And possibly sustain an injury or two.

“Come on, you two. Let’s play something else, okay?” Pat was the only one who was at all trying to de-escalate the situation.

The Captain just growled, a cunning grin on his face even as he tried to make Thomas fall by rocking back and forth. That only resulted in Julian whistling suggestively and the Captain stopped his motions to glare at him.

“You put down stick man,” Robin told the Captain. “You big bad hulk-y.”

“What?” The Captain frowned as sweat began gathering on his brow.

Thomas was yelling but nobody could hear what he was saying because he was way up in the Captain’s area and his mouth was full of the man’s jeans.

“Stop it, Thorne,” the Captain hissed and tried to move his leg away without lifting his foot off the Twister mat.

Thomas’s response was unintelligible.

“Oh gosh, this is so intense.” Kitty seemed to have gotten over the fact that the boys had not let her and Mary play properly. “Go, Captain!”

That made the Captain wobble and Thomas scream in terror.

“It be like a cock fight,” Mary said with wonder. Pat saw how several of the others glanced at her with suspicion. She had probably only heard of cockfights but you could never be quite sure with her.

“It’s a display of childish mannerisms,” was the only comment Lady Button had to offer on the matter. She had been sitting there in her armchair, silently judging them. Dante was sat on her lap, very invested in the game. He whined and growled right along with the two men on the mat.

“This is the best game of Twister ever,” Daley said as he wiggled himself onto Pat’s lap.

Pat still held the game spinner in his hand. Maybe he should put it to use to get the game to move along a bit.

“Who’s turn is it?” He asked Daley.

“The Captain’s,” his boy replied with confidence. He was, of course, the Captain’s biggest cheerleader.

“Alright, you ready, Cap?” Pat hollered over the general sound of mayhem as he let Daley have the spinner.

“Left hand red,” they yelled together.

The Captain groaned when he readied himself to move. His right arm shook as he shifted his weight. “Aha,” he cried triumphantly after he had completed his move. “I've still got it.”

Lady Button huffed but the Captain seemed not to have heard her.

Thomas took a few dramatic breaths now that he was no longer pressed against the Captain's leg. He managed to complete his next move as well which brought his face precariously close to the Captain’s midsection.

“Not again,” he cried as his nose pressed into the Captain’s white shirt.

The Captain was still wearing the tie Daley had gifted him and it dangled very close to Thomas’s mouth. It landed in his mouth when he tried to speak just as the Captain began to move his right foot to green as per Daley’s instructions.

Thomas spat it out with a dramatic whine.

“Hey, stop it. That was a gift,” the Captain admonished him immediately. He abandoned his game move to push Thomas’s head away from his body with his knee.

“It was in my mouth,” Thomas protested. “What was I to do? Choke on it?”

“Just leave it alone,” the Captain said petulantly. Then he sat back on his haunches to inspect his tie with a close look.

“Yes, I win,” Thomas cried.

“What?” The Captain looked up from his tie.

“You lifted up your hands. You lose. I win.”

“No, you tried to eat my tie. That is against the rules.”

“I was force-fed your tie,” Thomas clarified.

“It was a gift. Have some respect,” the Captain said, brushing the tie to hang neatly against his chest.

Pat had taken their argument to hide the Twister spinner behind a sofa cushion. They probably shouldn’t play anymore tonight.

Daley yawned but tried to hide behind Humphrey, so pat wouldn’t see. Pat saw anyway.

“Alright everyone,” he announced. “I think Daley and I are gonna turn in for the night. Got a long drive tomorrow.” He knew that some of the others did too.

The others grumbled their agreement and got up. Humphrey helped him fold up the Twister mat while the others began collecting glasses, mugs and other detritus that needed to go to the kitchen. Julian pretended to be asleep, of course. Until Robin retrieved the crocodile from their earlier games and talked Mary into holding it while he manoeuvred Julian’s fingers into its mouth.

“Hey now.” Julian jumped up when the jaws snapped shut. “That’s not very Christmassy of you, is it?”

They all laughed. Julian began chuckling too as he rubbed his smarting finger.

“Merry Christmas,” Robin told him, moving the crocodiles jaws as he spoke. “Better?”

“I’ll take it,” Julian muttered, grinning widely. “Merry Christmas, everyone.”

“MERRY CHRISTMAS!”

“Oh look, there’s the Captain,” Daley shouted as Pat drove his Volkswagen over to the gate of Button House the next morning.

The Captain was walking across the driveway, his long walking stick in hand. When he saw them approach the gate, he quickened his pace to open it for them.

“Ta, mate,” Pat told him once he had rolled down his window.

“Hm.” The Captain bent down a bit, so he could look into the car. “All ready for the drive?”

“Yep. Maps, sandwiches, drinks, play list with music and audio books, two first aid kits, a pack of cards if we get stuck in traffic. Have I forgotten anything?”

“Is Daley there?” The Captain asked, squinting into the backseat.

“Yes, I’m here,” the boy shouted unnecessarily loudly from where he was safely stowed away in his car seat.

“Oh good. It’s always good to double-check,” the Captain said. “I wish you two an uneventful drive.”

“Thanks,” Pat said “Merry Christmas, Cap.”

The Captain smiled. “Merry Christmas, Patrick.”

Chapter Text

Pat and Humphrey ran into the Captain in the foyer. Figuratively and almost literally.

The front door had been standing wide open all morning, so it was difficult to see anyone come in from outside. And come in the Captain did. Just as Pat and Humphrey were walking past.

"What were you doing outside?" Pat asked him. Humphrey thought he sounded quite accusatory but that was probably because Pat was still recovering from almost being bowled over.

"Working," the Captain answered simply, balancing on one leg as he pulled his muddy boots off.

"Out there?" Pat pointed at the sheets of rain outside. It was all grey and unpleasant-looking.

"Yes." The Captain slipped on some run-down trainers. They all knew better than to run around in just socks in an old house like this. And there were always people everywhere, so cosy slippers were usually restricted to the private areas.

"Why?" Pat was visibly confused. And outraged.

"That's where I work, Patrick. I am the gardener." The Captain peeled off his wet jacket and moved into the little adjoining niche that served as a sort-of cloakroom. "You can't garden inside."

"Oh. Maybe you can take a look at my house plant?" Humphrey spoke up. The poor thing had been looking a bit sad recently. "I think it's depressed."

"It's January," Pat squawked.

"Yeah, that might explain it actually," Humphrey agreed. "January is always depressing."

"No, I mean ..." Pat huffed. "What are you gardening out there in January? It's all dead."

Oh, Pat was still hung up on that.

"Inspections mostly," the Captain said, reappearing in the foyer proper. "Securing the perimeter. Repairs. There are some winter vegetables that need harvesting. I hope you like spinach. Because there is a lot." He returned to the still open front door and gave a whistle.

"But when it's raining like that?" Pat asked. "Surely you could stay inside when the weather is this bad."

"Dante! Get in here!" The Captain yelled out into the rain. Then he turned to Pat with furrowed eyebrows. "Why are you so concerned about this?"

"It can't be pleasant out there," Pat said, playing with the buttons on his shirt.

The Captain stood there with a knitted brow until someone outside cleared their throat and he stepped back to let three men with heavy-looking equipment enter. They disappeared into the drawing room.

"It's not very pleasant in here either," the Captain grumbled and moved to the doorway again. "Dante! I'm not coming out to get you!"

A bark was his answer and a second later Dante sped into the foyer. He was dressed in a little yellow rain jacket, the hood pulled over his ears to make him look even more adorable. He barked again as the Captain knelt down to help him out of his outerwear.

"Why?" Pat looked close to crying all of a sudden. Eyes all wet, mouth pulled straight down. "What did we do?"

"What?" Even the Captain seemed to have noticed Pat's distress. He stood up with a groan. It managed to drown out the noise of his Rice Krispy knees. "You didn't do anything."

"Why would you rather be out there than in here?" Pat glanced out into the downpour.

"I like it out there," the Captain said, wringing Dante's little jacket in his hands. "And I don't like-"

The rest of his response was drowned out by the shrill sound of a drill in the drawing room. The Captain covered his ears immediately. They waited for the commotion to take its course.

"-the noise," the Captain finished when the ruckus had stopped. He was forced to step aside again when two men walked past him and out into the rain. "And all these people."

When Lady B had announced that Button House would be closed for visitors for the entirety of January and some parts of February for the production of a period drama film, most of them had been intrigued. The Captain had protested against the project vehemently without bringing a single concise argument to the discussion other than "T-the people an-and the noise". He had spluttered on and on about it.

"I told you this was a bad idea," the Captain was saying now as Humphrey, Pat and Dante followed him to the kitchen. "Actors lounging about the house, learning lines, wearing make-up. Prancing about the place in loincloths, topless, oiled-up, kissing each other probably."

"I don't think it's that kind of film, mate," Pat chuckled. Humphrey agreed. Lady B would not let that kind of production anywhere near Button House.

"Who's kissing?" Julian appeared behind them as they reached the kitchen.

"Nobody," Humphrey said quickly because he could see the Captain getting riled up. Whether it was from potential kissing or Julian's presence was unclear. Probably both.

"The riff-raff," the Captain grumbled as he filled up the kettle.

"Okay, steady on, mate," Pat told him. "Who wants a Scotch egg with their lunch?" He beelined to the fridge and came back with two Tupperware containers that he placed on the table.

He slid one over to Humphrey and nodded towards the Captain. The man was clanking around with some mugs as he grudgingly asked Julian, who was fucking around in the pantry, if he wanted tea. There were already three mugs with tea bags sitting on the counter but the Captain was poised to add another from the cupboard above him.

Humphrey waited until the tea had been prepared and placed on the table before he slid the plastic container over to the Captain. "We made these for you. Pat and I."

Since they weren't giving tours right now and were only meant to be on stand-by for the film crew in case any of them had questions, the two of them had had a bit of time on their hands this morning.

The Captain looked at the container as if it might hold explosions. "What's in there?"

"Scotch eggs." Humphrey pulled the Tupperware back towards himself to open the lid and present its contents.

The Captain leaned over them. "Oh. But I don't ..." His moustache did a twitchy dance. Humphrey wondered if his own moustache was as athletic. "Sorry," the Captain mumbled. "I-I don't-"

"They are vegetarian Scotch eggs," Humphrey told him before the Captain could self-combust. "With beans and chickpeas."

"Oh." The Captain bent his knees a bit to take a closer look. Did he not believe him?

"W-why?" He asked after a long pause and an intense inspection.

"Because Scotch eggs are amazing, mate," Pat told him from where he was getting sandwiches ready. For everyone it seemed. Because there were already three different plates set up, a fourth was in the process of being prepared. "And I wanted to try something new."

"O-okay?" The Captain sat down. He was still staring at the Scotch eggs.

"Okay." Humphrey really felt like he had to move this process along. "So I'm going to put some in the air fryer, okay?"

The air fryer was the newest gadget in their kitchen. Pat had received it for Christmas from his parents and it had been put to use every single day since he had brought it back from Yorkshire. It was Pat's new favourite thing. He, and in addition everyone else (except Kitty!) who happened to be in the kitchen at the same time as him, had been consuming even more Scotch eggs than before. They were far superior to the oven-heated ones from the past.

"Or I can put yours in the oven?" Humphrey asked when the Captain failed to respond. Maybe he was wary of modern technology?

The other man blinked and then looked up. "Air fryer's fine," he mumbled.

"You sure?"

"Yes." The Captain still looked a bit out of it.

"What's going on with you?" Julian asked as he walked past and accidentally on purpose ran into the chair the Captain was sitting in. He had finally re-emerged from the pantry with a family bag of crisps under his arm and immediately clocked the Captain's twitchy demeanour.

"Can't wait to try 'em," Pat said. "Are you going to share your crisps?" He asked, turning to Julian.

The other man grumbled but put the bag on the table.

The vegetarian Scotch eggs turned out to be quite good actually. Humphrey had originally suspected Pat to put on a cheerful front while secretly mourning the taste of a real Scotch egg but he seemed to genuinely enjoy them. So did the Captain. He thanked them multiple times and insisted on taking care of the dishes afterwards. Julian did fuck all of course.

After lunch and tea, they ventured into the drawing room. The Captain did so rather reluctantly but Pat had told him that, if he dared to go out into the rain again, there would be consequences. Nobody dared to inquire what these consequences would be but the Captain was not brave enough to find out apparently. So he grumbled along as they watched some technicians set up equipment. Julian, to the Captain's very apparent relief, wandered off to find Robin. More people came in, carrying black cases that, when they were opened, revealed all sort of technical stuff that Humphrey had no idea about.

The Captain glanced at one of them, did a double-take and then skipped over to bent down and take a closer look. He hummed appreciatively. What a geek.

A bloke with dark-blonde curly hair walked in. He was wearing headphones and a walkie-talkie on his belt.

"Oh, do you guys work here?" He came over to shake hands with Pat and Humphrey. "Hi, I'm Adam. I'm the first assistant director. Is one of you familiar with the electrics of this place?"

They both shook their heads.

Adam sighed but kept smiling. He put his hands on hips and let his gaze wander. "We've found out the hard way that, with old houses like this, you sometimes run into trouble when too much stuff gets plugged in at the same time in the same area. Do you have a custodian or something?"

"Not sure where he is," Pat told him. "I can call him." He began rummaging through his pockets.

"Cap can probably help out," Humphrey said. "Hey Cap."

The Captain gave an acknowledging hum but did not look up from the row of walkie-talkies he was inspecting.

"Need your help here," Humphrey told him. The Captain finally sprung up and walked towards them without taking his eyes off the equipment.

"Hm?" He finally managed to turn his attention to Humphrey.

"Adam here has some questions about the electrics."

The Captain's eyes wandered over to Adam. They widened and his whole face did a little twitch. He cleared his throat.

"Hi," Adam said and held out his hand. "I'm the first assistant director."

"He-hello." The Captain cleared his throat again. Then a third time. Only then did he shake Adam's hand.

Adam went into a lengthy list of equipment that they would need to film their first scene in the ballroom upstairs. The Captain just listened, nodded along and did a lot of staring. Was he having a stroke or- oh.

No way. Not the Captain making heart eyes at someone.

"Maybe we can go take a look?" Adam asked eventually.

Humphrey had to elbow the Captain in the ribs to get him to stop short-circuiting.

The Captain jolted back to consciousness. "Yes?" He made some strange noises. "Yes."

"Great." Adam smiled and walked away, apparently trusting the Captain to follow. Which the Captain did. Like a puppy. Practically trotting after him. Dante, the actual puppy, followed them out of the room.

"Was that weird?" Humphrey asked to no one in particular. But only Pat was in his vicinity, so he was technically addressing him directly.

"Yes," Pat confirmed immediately, giving him a stern look. "The Captain isn't responsible for the electrics. That's Robin's job. Why did you send the Captain?"

"What?" Humphrey shook his head. "That's not what I me-" Then he realised that Pat had apparently not caught on to the Captain's little crush. And it probably wasn't something the Captain wanted advertised. Who knew if he even wanted people to know that he was gay. Humphrey had only found out by accident after all.

"Cap knows enough," he said instead, scrunching up his nose. "He and Robin constantly fight it out over the fuse box in the cellar."

The first few months when Humphrey had started living and working here, had been filled with constant arguments between Robin and the Captain. Eventually, they had simply stopped speaking to each other. Instead they had both continually made changes to the switches and wires in the fuse box to rile the other up. It had worried Humphrey to no end that the whole house would go up in flames one day because of a trivial argument between two grown men.

Now that he knew that the Captain, as an engineer, was probably trained in this stuff to some extent, it reassured him that they had probably been quite safe the entire time. Well, who knew about Robin but the Captain wasn't petty enough to risk the house that has been in his family for generations, to burn down just to prove a point. Right? Right??

As they made their way upstairs to watch the preparations for the filming, Humphrey entertained Pat with a particular memorable story when Button House had been without power for an entire day because either Robin or the Captain, and to this day it was unknown who (Humphrey was pretty sure it had been his brother), had removed the main switch from the fuse box and plunged the entire house into darkness. Not literal darkness. It had happened during the day.

Lady B had been more than furious when she had found out what had been the cause of the outage. She, unlike Humphrey, had suspected the Captain to be the culprit and had yelled at him, in front of everyone, for a good long while before telling him that he would be sleeping out in his tool shed until the power had been restored. Either the Captain had not wanted to face that indignity or Robin had taken pity on him. Either way, power had returned to Button House within an hour.

"They are worse than children," Pat concluded after he had stopped giggling. And he would know, wouldn't he?

Adam's questions seemed to have been resolved because the man shouted something about getting the actors into the room for the first scene before mumbling something into his headset.

"Thought you weren't interested," Pat said as they joined the Captain at the back of the room.

It was adorable how casual the man tried to appear. He was leaning against the wall in the most stiff way possible as he pretended to look at something on his phone while his eyes actually followed Adam across the room.

"What?" He did manage to tear his gaze away to look in Pat's general direction. "N-no, I was ... I was-"

"Oh gosh, have you seen who is playing the main character?" Kitty had appeared amidst their little gathering. Which the Captain, after startling, looked relieved at. "Have you seen?"

Pat gasped. "Is it someone famous?"

"Yes." Kitty giggled.

"Like George Clooney?"

"Who?" Kitty had to think for a second. "Eugh, that old guy? No, silly."

"Who is it then?"

Kitty wriggled with delight. "It's Toby Nightingale."

Pat scrunched up his nose. "Who?"

"Yes, who?" Humphrey had no clue who that was either.

"Oh, come on, you must know him." Kitty turned to the Captain. "You know who Toby Nightingale is, right?"

The Captain blinked. That man seemed to not know what a television was sometimes. "Ye-yes?" He stuttered, glancing at Pat and Humphrey for help.

"Ha, I knew it," Kitty said, clearly ignoring, or being unaware of, the Captain's fibbing. "He is the hottest man in the industry," she told Pat and Humphrey seriously. "Wouldn't you agree, Captain?"

The Captain's gaze flitted over to Adam for the briefest of moments before it returned to Kitty. "What?"

"Uuuh, she's a fancy flapjack." Mary joined them and pointed to the young woman in period costume who had just entered the room.

"Yes, her dress looks rather wonderful," Kitty agreed.

"Wasn't this supposed to be set in the 1820s?" Thomas asked. What was it with everyone suddenly appearing out of nowhere today? "Those are Rococo chairs and tables," he sniffed. "You can tell by the legs. They're Rococo legs."

"Maybe the people in the film like the Rococo style?" Humphrey wondered. "Or didn't have money for Regency furniture?" This was his least favourite period in history. Just prats in wigs and too much make-up. Naturally, it was Thomas's area of expertise. He would have fit right in, wearing waistcoats and breeches and being generally annoying about whimsical poetry.

A man, in period costume as well, strut into the room. Humphrey immediately clocked him as a big twat. And he didn't mean the character he would be portraying.

"That's him," Kitty gasped, hands over her mouth. She wasn't getting ready to puke, was she? That tended to happen when she got too excited.

The others seemed to have had the same thought because they all took a cautious step back.

"First positions," Adam exclaimed. "Call for quiet!"

"Quiet on set, please," someone else yelled.

The Captain watched Adam position himself behind one of the cameras and mumbled something that made Pat give him a massive side-eye. Humphrey made a bet with himself that Pat would catch on before the end of the day.

Pat had still not caught on a week later. Humphrey wasn't one to reveal other people's business but if there was an open secret to gossip about, he was all in. But Pat gave no sign of having noticed the Captain's crush-y behaviour.

The Captain, for his part, seemed to have mostly forgotten about traipsing around in the rain for his gardening. Large piles of leafy green spinach had shown up in the kitchen yesterday. But other than that, the Captain had been spending most of his time indoors. Near the sets or anywhere else where he saw a chance to spy on Adam for seemingly hours. He was aware enough of his surroundings that he floated into the background whenever Lady B decided to join the commotion.

"What are you doing?" Humphrey asked him when the Captain ducked down behind a conveniently placed sofa just as Lady B appeared in the doorway to the ballroom.

"Hiding," the Captain hissed as he peered around the sofa to check if he had been spotted.

"Why?"

"I'm supposed to be working."

Humphrey looked around the room.

He could see Pat and Mary inspecting one of the film cameras. Kitty tried to engage Toby Nightingale in a conversation while the twat was getting a touch-up of his make-up. He didn't seem to really hear her. Or just pretended not to. What a prick.

Julian and Robin had left not long ago and Thomas was off somewhere to educate an unfortunate soul on the failures of Lord Byron. When he had found out that the film was about the famous poet ("I mean, the clue is in the title, mate," Pat had pointed out helpfully, pointing to a copy of a script that had 'The Life of Byron' printed on the front in bold lettering), Thomas had had a bit of a meltdown. Nobody quite knew what Byron had done to pull such a dramatic reaction from a man that had been born 200 years after him. But Thomas could not stop talking about it.

"None of the others are working." Humphrey frowned down at the Captain.

"Stop looking at me," the other man whisper-shouted back. "You'll give me away."

Too late. Lady B was making her way over.

"What on earth are you doing?" She asked as she rounded the sofa and found the Captain crouching behind it.

"Um," he said eloquently. "Tying my shoe lace?"

"Why is it taking so long? Have you forgotten how to perform that most simple of tasks?" Lady B asked in that typically patronising manner of hers. "I spent days teaching you. Has all that time gone to waste?"

Humphrey kept forgetting that they too had been children once. And had known each other back then.

"No," the Captain grumbled. His eyes were a bit pinched at this point.

"Get up this instant," Lady B ordered.

"Yeah, hang on." The Captain fumbled to grip the backrest of the sofa.

Humphrey was just about to hold out a hand to help him up when Adam yelled: "ACTION!"

The Captain sprung up and to attention faster than Humphrey had ever seen him move before.

"Yes, action," he muttered before clearing his throat.

Adam looked over at the sound and the Captain quickly ducked his head.

They watched the scene in silence. Humphrey had seen this particular dialogue play out several times now and each take looked exactly like the last. Being an actor must be so boring. There weren't even any funny bits for the bloopers.

Afterwards, Lady B turned to the Captain. "I trust you have work to do."

"Yes," the Captain grumbled, not meeting her stern gaze. He looked down at the perfectly tied laces of his shoes instead.

"Then get back to it." She put up her nose and turned away.

The Captain's gaze flitted to Humphrey and then returned to his shoes. "None of the others are working," he mumbled.

Humphrey couldn't tell if the Captain had meant for Lady B to hear him or not.

But hear him she did. She whirled around with wide, angry eyes. "Excuse me?"

Shoulders squared and spine straight, the Captain's gaze was now fixed on his sister."None of the others are working," he repeated.

Lady B scoffed. "What my employees do in here is no concern of yours," she told him firmly. "Your work is outside and that is where you'll go."

Humphrey glanced out of the window. The weather was quite dreadful. Grey, rainy, windy.

"Now," Lady B insisted when the Captain did not follow her command right away.

"Where's Dante?" The Captain asked.

"In my rooms," Lady B said. "And that is where he'll stay. This is no weather for him."

Humphrey, damn him, wasn't brave enough to point out that she had no qualms about sending her little brother out into said weather.

The Captain did not appear eager to contest her either. He knitted his brow and left the room without another word.

Humphrey looked after him.

Then he got an idea. He rounded the sofa. "Hey Pat. Pat!"

He found the Captain kneeling in the vegetable garden.

"I really hope you don't expect us to eat all of that," Humphrey told him in lieu of a greeting, nodding towards the alarming amount of spinach growing in one of the beds.

"Hm?" The Captain looked up from whatever he was doing in the dirt, looked down again, then seemed to almost fall over in shock. "Yellow is not your colour," he stated plainly. Then his eyes widened as if he was surprised at his own bluntness.

"I know, right?" Humphrey glanced down at the rain jacket he was wearing. "Borrowed it from Pat. Don't really have a reason to own one myself." Humphrey wasn't the most outdoorsy of people. Especially when cold water was falling from the sky.

"Okay." The Captain continued with his work.

"Did you need something?" He asked after Humphrey had watched him dig around in the dirt for a minute or two.

"Oh, no. Not really." Humphrey really wished Pat had been able to lend him some waterproof boots because his shoes and socks were wet already. He shifted uncomfortably.

"Why are you out here then?" The Captain did not look up. His gardening gloves were stained with mud. "Standing there in a jacket too short and shoes ill-equipped for the terrain?"

Humphrey shrugged. "Didn't want you to be out here by yourself, I suppose."

The Captain did pause and look up then. He narrowed his eyes. "Why? I'm out here all the time. By myself."

"Sounded like you wanted company though."

"What?"

"You wanted Dante to come with you, didn't you?"

The Captain blinked into the distance for a bit.

"Mmh", he finally breathed out. He glanced at Humphrey's footwear. "You don't have to stay out here. I'm fine."

"Are you though?" Humphrey asked him.

"Yes," the Captain responded immediately and returned to his digging. What the fuck was he even doing?

Humphrey watched him quietly for a few minutes. Until he was absolutely certain that the Captain's actions had no purpose whatsoever. He was just shifting soil from one part of the bed to the other.

"I'm sorry Lady B makes you work while everyone else is just hanging around inside," Humphrey told him.

The Captain's jaw twitched. "It's fine." His hand movements grew more forceful and dirt went flying a bit further than before.

"Is there really that much to do that you can't join us?" It certainly didn't look like it.

The Captain finally stopped what he was doing and just hung his head. "It's not about the garden," he mumbled, awkwardly shifting around on his knees. Humphrey was impressed he was able to kneel like that for so long.

"It isn't?"

"No." The Captain began to smooth out the craters and hills he had created with his digging by swiping his hands over the soil, flattening it out. When he was satisfied, he stood up with a crack and took his dirty gloves off. He rubbed his eyes with one hand. He didn't walk away after and Humphrey got the feeling that the Captain actually wanted to talk about whatever was going on.

"What's her problem then?" Humphrey willed himself to play therapist again. He should really look up a phone number or something.

The other man shrugged and turned away to look at the trees in the distance. "You can probably guess."

"Um." Humphrey really did not have enough history about those two to make any well-founded assumptions.

"Come on," the Captain sneered. "You know what kind of company I keep."

"What?" Humphrey frowned. He never saw the Captain with anyone other than himself and the others.

"You saw me and that chap at the wedding." The Captain squinted out into the fields. "Whatever his name was. I may have pretended to be interested in him but I didn't pretend to be gay that night."

"Oh. Yeah. I knew that." Humphrey winced. That probably wasn't the right thing to say when somebody had practically officially come out to you.

The Captain heaved a sigh. "Fanny isn't ... keen."

Humphrey remembered how she had reacted to the presence of two brides at the wedding. At the time, he hadn't paid too much attention to it because people of her generation were like that sometimes and he was too much of a coward to say anything anyway. Especially to his boss. He had never really made the connection to the Captain's own homosexuality. Which he had only found out about later that day. But still.

"I am so sorry," Humphrey said. Could he feel any more like shit? He doubted it.

The Captain turned his head to look at him. "Why? For what?"

"For not saying anything? Speaking up? When she said nasty things?" Had there been other opportunities? After the wedding? Where Humphrey could have stood up for the Captain but hadn't?

The Captain scoffed and ground the tip of his boot into the soggy grass. "Don't bother. Won't change anything." He sounded so defeated that Humphrey just wanted to hug him or something.

"How can she think like that when her own brother ..." Humphrey trailed off.

The Captain shrugged. "After what happened with her husband?"

Humphrey frowned. "Where you part of it?" Julian had said he hadn't been.

"What?" The Captain actually reeled back.

"Of the affair. The husband and two other men, Julian said."

"No. God. Why would you ..." The Captain made a retching sound. "George is my relative. My father's cousin. And a deplorable man. I've always hated him. Even before. Ugh. I think my lunch is coming back up."

Humphrey waited for the other man to lessen the dramatics before making his point. "Why's she being nasty to you then? Her husband cheated on her with two men, tried to kill her and every gay person in the world has to take the blame?" Homophobic people really didn't make sense.

"That whole kerfuffle just reinforced her beliefs."

"Oh. So she's always been ..."

"Yeah." The Captain swayed his head from side to side. "We didn't grow up in the most accepting of environments."

They watched a bird fly overhead. A sparrow the Captain informed him. Apparently it was unusual to see them in weather like this. They liked to shelter away when it was windy. It had stopped raining for the time being at least. Humphrey's feet were soaked through though.

"Why are you here then?" Humphrey asked when they had not spoken for a few minutes. Chances were high that he wouldn't get a response. The Captain did not tend to leave the door to his inner self open for long.

"Hm?" The other man seemed to have been lost in thought but now turned his head.

"Why are you here? Working for her? Living with her? If she doesn't ... approve?"

"Don't really have anywhere else to go." The Captain looked up at the sky as he spoke. "I had just been le- I had just left the Army when George put her in hospital. I couldn't just leave her to deal with everything by herself, could I? She's family. So ... it was the right thing to do."

"But now she won't let you watch the filming because ... what? She thinks you might hook up with Adam?"

"Hm."

They both looked up when another bird flew past.

"What's that one called?" Humphrey asked.

"Fred."

Humphrey snorted. The Captain was randomly funny like that. But he was also a big bird nerd, so he was internally obliged to add, "It was a blackbird."

It surprised Humphrey that the Captain was in a playful mood after all that but he would take full advantage of it. So he said, "I saw that it was black, Captain. But what kind of bird was it?"

To his delight the Captain took the bait. "No, a blackbird. Not a black bird," he ranted. "Well, both." He breathed out through his nose and finally turned to Humphrey who was having a hard time suppressing a laugh. The Captain's eyebrows lifted. "Are you trying to rile me up?"

"Yeah, a bit." If they had been standing close enough together, this would have been the point where Humphrey bumped their shoulders together in a friendly manner. As it was, they were just a bit too far apart to initiate any kind of contact without it being awkward. It would probably have been awkward anyway because the Captain might have tried to wiggle away. Or leave entirely.

They just stood there for a while and watched the scenery around them. They could see the lake from here. Humphrey couldn't tell if the silence between them had turned awkward or not. From the corner of his eye he saw that the Captain opened his mouth a few times as if he had something else to say.

The next time it happened, Humphrey swiftly turned his head to catch him in the act. The Captain did his best to look away and pretend that he had been watching the trees to his left this entire time.

"Go on," Humphrey encouraged.

He heard the Captain sigh and watched him kick at some tufts of grass with his boots. The feet they were protecting were probably nice and toasty. Unlike Humphrey's. Did he even have toes at this point?

"Is it ..." The Captain trailed off and cleared his throat. "Is it obvious?"

"What is?"

"That maybe ... that I like ...." More excessive throat-clearing. It gave Humphrey ample time to figure out what the Captain might be getting at.

"Oh, your crush on Adam?"

"N-no? ... Yes."

"It is for me. But nobody else seems to have caught on. Except Julian. But he knows, doesn't he?" Julian had said something about the Captain having never touched a woman at some point.

"Yes." The Captain sighed aggressively. He looked ready to storm back to the house and throw hands. "Has he said anything?"

"No." Nothing the others seemed to have interpreted anything into at least. "The others are oblivious." Frustratingly so.

"How do you know?" The Captain had narrowed his eyes into distrustful slits. "Do you gossip about me?"

"We gossip about everyone, you know that." Humphrey shrugged. "If Kitty or Pat knew, you'd know, I think." They'd be the most enthusiastic. Rainbow flags and everything. Those two were, however, also the most unobservant of the lot but he decided to neglect to mention that fact.

The Captain slowly released a long repressed breath.

Talking about repression...

"They wouldn't mind by the way," Humphrey said deliberately slowly.

"Mind what? Gossiping about me?"

"No," Humphrey hurried to say because the Captain was beginning to sway with rage. "If you told them you are gay. Any of them."

He left that hanging between them for a bit. The Captain was apparently not inclined to comment other than to scoff quietly and stuff his hands into the pockets of his rain jacket.

"I know that none of us spoke up when Lady B said those things," Humphrey mumbled and that admission just made him feel grand, didn't it? "But we'd support you. And I'll stan-"

"Don't," the Captain said immediately. Then he shook his head before continuing, "Don't bother. It wouldn't change anything. Just cause trouble for you. It's not worth it."

"But she- I don't-" Humphrey huffed out his frustration.

He had always liked Lady B. Sure, she was stuffy and old-fashioned but as a boss she had only ever had reasonable expectations. She was fair. They were getting paid their full wages throughout this filming business even though they were doing fuck all. The deduction from his wages for the rent of his room was almost laughable. He knew what he'd be paying for similar accommodations outside the estate. It allowed him to save up a sweet sum for whatever he wanted. And the Wi-Fi was free. Spotty but free. And Pat's status as a father and everything that entailed was fully respected, encouraged even. In this day and age, it was more than Humphrey had seen with most of his previous employers.

However, very early into his employment at Button House, Humphrey had clocked the weird dynamic between his boss and the Captain. They had displayed a familiarity with each other that spoke of a long history together. Humphrey had thought that would get the Captain some extra benefits but rather the opposite was the case.

Robin and Humphrey used to giggle themselves silly whenever Lady B exploded and loudly told the Captain off for the smallest reason in full view and hearing range of everyone else. High entertainment back when the man had, you know, behaved like a bit of an arsehole to everyone. In retrospect, it did make Humphrey feel like a prat, okay?

"Just leave it. It's not your fight," the Captain muttered.

Humphrey turned to regard him quietly for a moment. Then he said, "It shouldn't be yours either."

"I'm not fighting," the Captain admitted softly. He began to tap his booted toes against the grass in a rhythmic manner. "I tell myself that, deep down, she doesn't actually believe all those things she's saying." He paused to shrug his shoulders. "I mean, George said all those things. And behind closed doors, he did it with half the men in the county."

Humphrey did a double-take. "Really? Half the men in the county?" What a busy boy George had been.

"Thereabouts. All came out in the trial."

"Eugh."

There was some mirth in the way the Captain's moustache twitched. "Pretty much."

Humphrey wanted to say more. He wanted to tell the Captain that he wasn't in this alone. That he didn't have to pretend to be anybody else but himself. That Humphrey had his back. He attempted to sort out his thoughts and put them into words, so that the Captain would understand. Because the man had the tendency to misinterpret well-meaning gestures.

But before Humphrey had said a single thing, the Captain asked, "Do you want to go see the horses with me?"

Even if Humphrey hadn't liked horses, and he did, he would have said yes. He would have said yes to almost anything in this moment. Just to make that sad look in the Captain's eyes go away.

They squelched their way over to the shed where the Captain had parked his quad bike. He had offered to give Humphrey a ride down to the stable. Which, hell yes?

"Hey Cap?"

"Mh?" The man was rummaging through his pockets as they walked, probably looking for his keys.

"If you ever wanna talk, you can come to me, yeah?"

The Captain came to a stop and considered the grey clouds above them.

"There is nothing to talk about."

The Captain was sitting at the kitchen table, humming a tune under his breath. He looked up when Pat entered the room and the noise immediately stopped.

"What were you humming?" Pat asked as he moved over to the cupboard to retrieve a mug and click on the kettle on the way.

"I wasn't." The Captain narrowed his eyes at him over the rim of his reading glasses.

"Okay?" They were going with self-denial, were they? "Do you want another cuppa?" Pat asked, holding out his hand for the Captain's empty mug that was sitting on the table, next to a book.

"Oh, yes please." Instead of just handing it over, the Captain got up and carried his mug over to the kettle himself. He came to stand at the counter next to Pat, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"What are you reading?" Pat asked him as he dropped a teabag into the Captain's mug.

The other man opened his mouth but whatever he was going to say was drowned out by Pat's shrill ringtone.

"Sorry," Pat muttered as he wrangled his phone out of his pocket.

He expected to deny the call and return it right after. But when he saw Carol's name on the screen, he stopped in his tracks. It was always jarring when she called outside their schedule. Most things they managed to communicate via WhatsApp messages or they set up a specific time to speak over the phone.

Maybe Daley wanted to talk to him?

Oh God.

What if something had happened to Daley? Pat took a step back to create some space for himself before his thumb slid over the screen to accept the call.

"Carol?"

If his heart had jumped before, it now plummeted to the core of the Earth. Because Carol was crying.

"Carol, what's going on?" He could barely breathe, leave alone speak.

Something had happened. Oh God. Daley was hurt. Or- oh God no.

"Carol, what is going on?" Pat just about registered that his voice had risen at least an octave. "Is Daley okay?"

Anything but that. Please. Please let Daley be okay. Pat grabbed the backrest of the closest chair to keep himself upright. The Captain appeared before him, brow lined with concern.

"Carol!"

She wouldn't stop crying. Why wouldn't she stop crying and tell him? He needed to know.

Pat barely felt the Captain guide him to sit on the chair that he had been holding onto. Carol was still crying. The Captain disappeared from view.

"Where's Daley, Carol?"

"He's-" Carol finally managed between sobs. Pat prepared himself for the worst by closing his eyes.

"He's fine," Carol managed. "He's upstairs."

Pat almost fell to the ground in relief. "Oh thank God."

The Captain bounced back into his field of vision, arms outstretched as if he was ready to catch him. But Pat managed to sag against the table instead. The Captain knelt down in front of him to peer at his face. He probably thought Pat was on the brink of passing right out. Not too far off, actually. No longer from terror. But relief.

"Okay, so Daley's fine," Pat repeated slowly.

The Captain muttered something like "Thank goodness" under his breath before he got up and disappeared again.

Carol continued to cry while Pat came up with various scenarios as to why. Now that he knew that Daley was okay, he could think a bit more clearly. A cup of tea the colour of a buff envelope appeared on the table in front of him.

"Thanks, mate," he whispered in the Captain's direction. He wasn't sure if the other man heard him because he had already disappeared into the pantry.

"What's wrong then, petal?" Pat asked, wincing at the pet name that had accidentally left his stupid mouth. You didn't use pet names on your ex-wife, right?

Carol sniffed. "M-Mauri-Maurice a-and I ..."

"Yeah?"

Carol elaborately blew her nose right down the line. Pat pulled his phone away from his ear. A bit of warning next time, ey?

More sobbing followed.

The Captain placed a plate with chocolate digestives next to Pat's tea and then sat down opposite him with his own mug. Pat playfully wrinkled his nose at the colour of his brick-red tea. The Captain glowered back at him and stole a biscuit.

"What's going on?" Pat asked. He didn't have many plans for his Saturday. But he didn't fancy spending his free time on the phone listening to his ex-wife cry. "What's going on with Maurice?"

At the man's name, the Captain's eyebrows rose. Unless one of the others had divulged a detailed version, he had gotten only the briefest rundown of Pat's divorce tale. Because Pat had been in a bit of a mood the other week and the Captain had been the only one around to lend a listening, if reluctant, ear.

"W-we-we had a big fi-fight." Carol's stuttering made it hard to understand her.

"You had a fight?"

"Ye-yes."

"You and Maurice?"

"Yes."

"Okay?"

Pat listened to her story as he watched the Captain demolish yet another biscuit. What did he think he was doing? Shoving the whole thing into his mouth and chewing without any trace of relishing the flavour. As if he was prepared to flee the scene at any second. Strange man. Dipping them into your tea was the way to go.

"Ca-an you come over, P-pat?" Carol asked.

That brought Pat out of his observations. "What?"

"P-please, I-I need you," Carol sobbed. "Please?" She sounded so heartbroken.

"Oh, petal." That pet name again. Damn it.

"Please?"

Pat wanted to protest, he really did. But he caught himself glancing at his watch to calculate his potential arrival time in Reading.

He shouldn't do it. He didn't want to get involved. But he didn't have anything else on. The film crew had a rest day today and the house was still closed, so it was practically a day off. And if Carol had called him, she probably really needed someone to be with her.

"Yeah, alright," Pat said before he could stop himself. He took a sip of tea before he could add anything equally stupid.

"You are the best," Carol sighed, sounding cheered already.

"I know." Pat frowned. Why were they getting a divorce then? "I'll need to get ready. I'll text you when I leave, yeah?"

"Yes, thank you." One last sniffle.

They rang off.

Pat glanced up to find the Captain studying him from underneath furrowed eyebrows.

"Maurice is her chap, correct?"

"Yeah." Pat rubbed his eyes. "They had a big fight. He drove off."

"Right." The Captain squinted in what looked like genuine confusion. "But Daley is alright?"

"Yeah, he's fine." Pat took another sip of tea.

"You're still going up to Reading."

"Yeah, Carol is a bit out of sorts."

The Captain studied him for a second before his gaze became harsh again. "So you're driving up there to what? Comfort her? Hand her a tissue?" With every word he managed to sound more scathing.

"Yes. She's really upset." Pat frowned at him. Was it so wrong to ask for a bit of compassion in this kind of situation? Not that he expected the Captain to know anything about this stuff. Ever the stoic soldier, wasn't he? But did he not even possess enough empathy to let others seek help in a crisis?

The Captain snorted. "And it's you she needs?"

Pat straightened his shoulders. "What is that supposed to mean? Yes, Carol needs me." He knew her best after all. They were married for years, for God's sake.

The Captain shook his head as his gaze wandered to a spot on the table. "She does not need you."

"Yes, she does," Pat protested and crossed his arms over his chest. "You don't even know her." The Captain barely knew him. What gave him the right to judge Carol like that?

"Patrick." The Captain made a show of folding his hands together on the tabletop like he was some kind of therapist. "I'm probably not the best when it comes to this kind of thing bu-."

Pat snorted. "You're right about that, mate," he muttered.

The Captain's moustache twitched but he remained quiet.

"You don't know her," Pat repeated. "You don't eve-"

"She's using you," the Captain interrupted. "Can't you see that?"

"Leave her alone," Pat spat. Who did he think he was?

"She cheated on you, Patrick. For a long time. But now you're good enough to come running when her chap made her cry. Don't you see what's going on?"

"Leave us alone!" Pat yelled, shooting out of his chair. "You don't know anything about her, or me, or us. So back off."

Pat didn't give the Captain the chance to back off. He gave the plate with the biscuits a violent shove that made them slide onto the table. Then he stomped out of the kitchen. All the way up to his room. Where he got himself together to drive up to Reading. Because Carol needed him.

At least, he had gotten some time with Daley out of it.

That's what Pat told himself as he pulled into the car park at Button House. That's what he had been telling himself all the way back from Reading. He got to spend time with his boy. He would have stayed longer but Daley had a classmate's birthday party to attend this afternoon. So Pat had dropped him off at his friend's house on his way home.

He turned the engine off and rested his head on the steering wheel. Despite the time with Daley, the afternoon had been a bit of a bust.

Carol really had needed someone to comfort her, that much was true. A shoulder to cry on. But it didn't need to be Pat's shoulder. Her ex-husband. One of her many friends could have done the job just as well. Maybe even better. Because they weren't as biased when it came to Maurice as he was.

When Pat had, offhandedly and without thought, suggested that Carol might be better off without Maurice, she had quickly changed her tune. And her volume. So he had left her with the tea he had made her (her favourite blend of course) and gone upstairs to do a puzzle with Daley instead. Pat and Carol had not exchanged another word after that, other than arranging Daley's transport to the birthday party.

So, all in all not a great outcome.

Now that Pat was back at Button House, another resolution hung in the balance. And Pat was dreading it. So he decided to call first, to get a handle on the Captain's state of mind.

Pat opened the contact list on his phone. He didn't have to scroll far but he grumbled a bit when he realised that the Captain's contact slide was right above Carol's. He was careful to select the correct name. His sausage fingers did silly things sometimes. It would be embarrassing if he accidentally called Carol now, wouldn't it?

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he listened to the dial tone. The call connected just as Pat was ready to hang up. The Captain had taken his sweet time to answer which did not bode well.

"Patrick."

Damn, that was too short a greeting (was it a greeting?) to get a hang on the Captain's mood.

"H-hey Cap. Captain?" Better stay formal for now.

"Yes."

There was an awkward pause. Maybe Pat should have actually thought about what he was going to say.

"Do you require assistance?" The Captain asked. He didn't sound angry. Or bitter. In fact, he sounded carefully neutral. Like he was making an effort to not have any kind of emotion break through.

"Yeah?" Was it smart to count on the Captain's untiring eagerness to help? To be useful? He had asked if Pat needed assistance after all. "Cap?"

"Yes. Patrick." There was some irritation cracking through the stony facade.

"Do you maybe wanna go somewhere with me?"

Pat winced. Did that sound weird? It probably sounded weird. But he'd thought that it might be smart to go somewhere where they could talk in peace. Without any of the others barging in. And where the Captain could not run off easily. Or at least not far without the risk of losing his ride back home.

The Captain took a moment to answer. "Where? When?" A thumping noise on his end. "A general idea of time scale is required here, Patrick."

"Like ... right now? We can be back for dinner." Pat continued to tab the fingers of his free hand on the steering wheel.

The Captain made a sound. He was one of those people who struggled to grasp the concept of spontaneity. "Where are you?"

"In my car. In the car park."

"Do I get time to change?" The Captain's breathing seemed to have picked up. "How pressing is this?"

"You don't need to change, Cap. We're not going anywhere fancy." Pat actually had no idea where they might go.

"Okay. Give me a minute."

"Ta, mate." Pat ended the call and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. He could only hope that the Captain was as collected as he had sounded over the phone.

He was pulled out of his reverie when the door to the passenger side opened. The Captain was out of breath, his trousers and jacket covered in dirt, Dante squished in under his right arm. He bent down a bit, so he could peer down at Pat with big blue eyes. He looked a bit like he had no idea how he had gotten here.

Pat just stared back at him.

"You said 'right now'," the Captain explained, adjusting his hold on the dog. Dante did not appear to mind the handling.

"A-appreciate it, Cap," Pat said, a bit dumbfounded. He had expected the Captain to be a bit more reluctant to see him. "I know you like to schedule your outings two weeks in advance."

"Mmh." The Captain narrowed his eyes.

Pat nodded towards Dante. "You could have left the dog though."

The Captain outright glowered at him now. Then he made a show of cleaning the dirt off his clothes, which did not really do much at all, before plopping down into the passenger seat with Dante on his lap.

"Where are we going, Patrick?"

"Yeah, no idea actually," Pat admitted sheepishly. "Are you hungry?"

It was after three and the Captain probably had had lunch at a reasonable hour but Carol had not offered Pat any food and he had been too upset to stop anywhere on the way back.

The Captain consulted the world outside the windscreen. "Um? Sure?"

"Anywhere you wanna go then?"

The Captain squinted out of the window for a second longer, then glanced down to his lap where Dante was preparing himself for a nap. "There's a McDonald's in Guildford."

Pat hadn't taken the Captain for a man who frequented fast-food establishments. But he wouldn't question him. So he shrugged

"Sure, if that's what you fancy."

Everyone had to indulge now and then and Pat was willing to accommodate the bloke's wishes. The Captain had dropped everything but the dog in his haste to run over when Pat had called. And a greasy burger and wobbly chips sounded quite good actually.

Pat turned on the engine. They all jumped when the radio came on and Abba began busting their ear drums. Pat liked to listen to loud music when he was upset, okay? He hurried to turn down the volume.

"Sorry," he mumbled. He dared not to look over and see if the Captain was regretting this outing already.

Guildford was a bit of a drive, over twenty minutes, and they spent all of them in silence. Except for the radio playing quietly(!) in the background. Pat did not even turn the volume up when some football talk came on.

The Captain insisted that they shouldn't take the dog into a restaurant even if it was just McDonald's. He probably also did not want to be seen in public with his clothes covered in dirt, so Pat went through the Drive-Through and then parked in the adjacent car park.

He had ordered two Happy Meals (because he wanted to be happy, damn it!), a coffee and a McFlurry with KitKat. The Captain blinked at the ice cream when Pat handed it to him and then carefully placed it in the cup holder next to the one that held Pat's coffee. He proceeded to inspect the contents of his Happy Meal with great interest and pulled out the chips to carefully arrange them on a napkin on the dashboard. Then he examined the burger.

"Oh, sorry." Pat mentally slapped himself. He had forgotten that the Captain was a vegetarian and ordered normal hamburgers in both their meals. Why hadn't the Captain said anything?

The other man looked up from where he was dissecting the poor thing. Was he really going to eat the vegetables off the patty? He must be starving.

"Don't tell Fanny," the Captain said before offering a piece of burger patty to Dante. Then he stuffed some chips into his mouth, humming happily.

They ate in silence for a while. Dante whined every time the Captain wasn't fast enough in offering him more greasy meat.

As was typical, there were nowhere near enough napkins in the paper bags to clean their fingers with afterwards.

"There are some baby wipes somewhere," Pat said, trying to remember where he had seen them last. With a sticky kid like Daley it was wise to always have some on hand.

He turned to check the seat pockets in the back. Preferably without getting burger grease and chip salt everywhere.

"Got them," the Captain announced. He had opened the glove department and carefully retrieved the package with a napkin.

They thoroughly cleaned their hands and the Captain seemed to contemplate wiping Dante's muzzle to erase any evidence of naughty fast food on him. He didn't do it in the end.

"How's Carol then?" The Captain asked as he pulled the Happy Meal toy from its plastic confines. A little grey dog figurine with a green hat.

"Probably back with Maurice by now." Pat looked at the toy in the Captain's hand. "That's Rocky by the way."

"Are they?" The Captain mumbled, clearly unsympathetic. "Good for them."

"No. The dog," Pat clarified. "He's called Rocky. From Paw Patrol." Daley had been obsessed with that show for way longer than Pat had liked.

"Right." The Captain carefully sat the toy down on the dashboard next to his empty chip carton. "Am I supposed to know what that is?"

"Ask Daley when he comes to visit next time." Because the Captain deserved to suffer the pain.

"Sure." He had clearly already forgotten everything Pat had just said. "So, Carol?"

"Well." Pat sighed and then filled the Captain in on what had transpired.

It was so trivial that it must have sounded outright ridiculous. It had started with a disagreement on how to load a specific item into the dishwasher and had spiralled from there. Pat could relate. The dishes had been one of those topics where his and Carol's world views had clashed. Pat had learned to stack the dishes neatly next to the sink and then leave. Not because he shied away from housework but because he was tired of hearing the same lecture over appropriate dishwasher-loading techniques again. He clearly remembered complaining to Maurice about it on more than one occasion. Not his fault Maurice hadn't listened, was it?

"It all turned into this huge shouting match, yannow?" Pat continued. "And at some point Maurice just turned and burned."

The Captain squinted at Pat in confusion.

"He drove off."

"Ah."

"Carol panicked, I think," Pat went on. "He'd never done that before. I never did either. I just ran off to the shed and have a Watney's when we had a fight."

Pat missed his shed. It had been his sanctuary. With a mini fridge for beer and a radio to listen to the football while he played around with tools and spare parts in the hopes of fixing any of the broken devices piling up in the corner. He'd fixed a toaster once. Daley had accidentally dropped a Lego brick into it and Pat had successfully retrieved it without even hurting himself. That was the only thing he had managed to bring back to life. But fun times were had in the shed nonetheless.

"Where was Daley during all this?" the Captain asked, carefully picking up the McFlurry. Dante raised his head and licked his jaw in anticipation of another treat.

Pat's heart grew heavy with the memory. "Hidden in his room. Had crawled under the bed, poor lad. Took me a while to get him out."

"Hm. I can imagine." The Captain held out the McFlurry. "Your ice cream is melting."

"I got that for you, mate," Pat told him carefully. Had that not been obvious?

"Oh." The Captain pulled his arm back and examined the cup in his hand with interest. "Why?"

Pat shrugged. "I knew you'd probably like dessert. And as an apology." He had the hope that satisfying the Captain's sweet tooth would make the man more receptive to emotionally-laden conversations.

The Captain used the little spoon to steer the contents of his ice cream cup thoughtfully.

"No," he told Dante firmly when the dog sat up to take a sniff. Dante whined in response to the rebuke and only intensified his efforts to look cute. Large puppy eyes, fluffy ears twitching.

"An apology is unnecessary," the Captain grumbled, avoiding the eyes of both Dante and Pat by sternly staring out into the almost empty car park. "On your part at least." He shifted around in his seat and dislodged Dante in the process. The poor thing almost got catapulted into the foot well.

"Sorry," the Captain whispered and cleared his throat while he one-handedly readjusted Dante on his lap. He turned his head suddenly and fixed his gaze on something over Pat's shoulder. "I want to-," he began. "I sincerely apologise for interfering in your personal affairs. I shouldn't have voiced my opinion so freely an-"

"Whoa, okay." Pat held up his hand to stop him. "You don't have to apologise for anything, mate. I'm the one who yelled at you."

The Captain's gaze flickered to meet Pat's very briefly before snapping away again. "Yes but-"

"No," Pat insisted. "I'm sorry. You were right. I shouldn't have gone. It only made things worse between me and Carol."

"Sorry to hear that," the Captain mumbled, stroking the spot between Dante's ears with one of his fingers.

"Yeah, well." Pat picked up his coffee and took a sip. He hissed. Ouch, how was it still this hot? "But I'm still sorry," he breathed out around his scorched tongue.

"Yes," the Captain muttered. "So am I."

Pat rubbed his eyes and debated whether he had another shouting match in him to get the Captain to realise that his apology was entirely unnecessary. He didn't, he decided.

Another silence fell. Pat had never seen the Captain savour a sugary treat as much as he seemed to now. He took ages to lick the ice cream off the spoon and even started humming at some point. He appeared entirely oblivious that he was doing it. Pat continued to burn his oral cavity with his lava coffee.

"When does Daley come to visit again?" The Captain asked all of a sudden.

"Oh, um, weekend after next." It was Carol's mum's birthday next Saturday, so they had moved visitation around a bit.

"I was thinking ..." The Captain trailed off with a huff and stirred his ice cream self-consciously.

"Yeah?" Pat busied himself with noisily unwrapping his own Happy Meal toy. A little Dalmatian in a firefighter outfit. He knew where this one would be going. Marshall was Daley's favourite character in Paw Patrol. Pat sat it up on the dashboard for now, next to the Captain's Rocky.

"Maybe ..." The Captain cleared his throat and squirmed when he realised that Pat had turned his head to study him. So Pat looked out of his side window instead.

"If you allow it, of course, I could maybe ..." The Captain huffed. He was probably frowning too. Pat could barely contain his amusement. Good thing he was looking in the other direction so the Captain couldn't see him laugh. That would definitely throw him off.

"Maybe I could take him horse-riding sometime?" The Captain finally managed to rush out. "If he wants. And you allow it."

Pat's eyebrows rose in surprise. He turned his head to study the man next to him.

The Captain would not meet his eyes, his gaze steadily fixed on the dog in his lap instead. His left hand was holding his ice cream cup in a death grip. "It's fine if y-"

"Daley would love that so much, Cap." He really really would.

"Oh. Really?" The Captain looked genuinely surprised. That would explain why he had been so nervous to ask in the first place. He had clearly been expecting a rebuff.

"Yeah. He was really into cowboys a while ago." Pat smiled at the memory of Daley refusing to take off his cowboy hat for an entire week. Even for sleeping.

The Captain frowned. "We won't be driving cattle across the Plaines, Patrick." He fiddled with his little spoon.

Pat snorted. "For him, cowboys are just blokes on horses, mate."

"Right." Was the Captain actually going to finish his ice cream or did he plan to just stir it into oblivion? "I got a helmet for him," he said. "And we'll take Montague, he's a good fellow."

"I already said yes, Cap."

"Oh. Right."

"Hang on." Pat just had a thought. "Isn't Montague Lady B's favourite horse?" She talked about him almost as much as Dante.

"Hm?" The Captain had finally gotten around to putting some more ice cream into his mouth. "Yes, why?"

"Will she let you take him out? With Daley?"

"Why wouldn't she? I take all her horses out all the time, Pat. It's not like I'm riding off into the sunset with them."

"You did kidnap her dog to go to McDonald's," Pat pointed out helpfully. He could picture Lady B waiting at the gates to Button House, red in the face and ready to shriek them into next week.

"It was an emergency," the Captain stated firmly. "And you will tell her so."

"Sure." They might just have a chance if Pat did the talking. "Are you ready to head back?"

"Oh. Um." The Captain looked down at his ice cream with sad eyes. "Yes?"

"You can finish that on the way, mate. Hand me your rubbish yeah?" Pat opened the car door. "I'm gonna pop to the loo."

"All the way in the back, on the right," the Captain told him absently as he stuffed all the detritus of their meals into the paper bags. Only his McFlurry and their toy figurines remained sunning themselves on the dashboard.

"Come here often, do you?" Pat chuckled. He accepted the paper bags to drop off in the next bin he saw.

The Captain shrugged. "Used to."

The drive back to Button House was spent in silence again. But a more companionable one. The radio station was having some kind of Abba tribute thing so they listened to that. And when Pat asked if he could turn up the volume for the football scores, the Captain did it for him. Lady Button wasn't even waiting at the gate to scold them for kidnapping her dog. A good ending to a good outing, all in all.

When they got out of the car, the Captain dithered awkwardly for a moment, his toy figurine clutched tightly in his left hand, his empty ice cream cup in his right. Dante happily sniffed the front tire of Pat's car.

"Thank you for the excursion, Patrick," the Captain mumbled, avoiding eye contact with great fervour. "I will fetch some cash to pay you back for lunch." Then he stomped away, the dog hot on his heel.

"Lunch was on me, mate!" Pat shouted after him. To no avail. He knew that however much he protested and refused to accept the money, he'd be finding a twenty-pound note pushed underneath his door tonight. Or in his jacket pocket. Or between his tins of beans in the pantry.

He'd just need to be even more crafty when returning it.

Chapter Text

"Yeah, mate, when you said you couldn't bake ..." Humphrey trailed off and watched the eggshells bob along in the batter like little lifeboats.

"Mh." The Captain impatiently tapped his fingers on the kitchen counter. What he had to be impatient about, Humphrey did not know.

"What are you two lookin- oh dear." Pat joined them in their contemplation of what was going to be Kitty's birthday cake. "Well, you did say you couldn't bake," he said with a careful glance in the Captain's direction.

"Yes, I did say that, Patrick," the Captain snapped, still tapping away. "Several times. Why you would allow me anywhere near the eggs or any of the ingredients at all, will remain a mystery."

"Why did you join the baking group then?" Humphrey asked. How was he supposed to have known that the man couldn't even crack an egg open? "You could have helped blow up the balloons."

The Captain's shoulders immediately shot up all the way to his ears. "I don't like balloons."

Yeah, Humphrey could sense a bit of an aversion there. Unfortunately, Kitty loved balloons. They had therefore been deemed an absolute necessity for her birthday party.

Pat backed away before he said, "You can't bake either, mate." He must have suspected that the Captain might go after him.

For a second Humphrey thought he'd be forced to break up a fistfight. But the Captain just narrowed his eyes and glared at the mixing bowl.

"Where am I supposed to have learned to bake?" He growled. "The British boarding school system and the Royal Army are not institutions where such knowledge is a requirement or, indeed, part of the curriculum."

"Did you never bake with your mum?" Humphrey asked, consciously making an effort not to flinch when the Captain's glower turned on him. "Or your sister? She bakes sometimes."

Lady B could oft be found in the kitchen baking bread. Which tasted alright. Her scones were a delight though.

The Captain sighed and rolled his eyes. "Can you see her baking with a child?"

Humphrey couldn't. Lady B barely restrained herself from commenting on his adult clumsiness.

"Yeah, fair enough." Humphrey shrugged, leaned against the counter and watched Pat wash his hands. He was clearly getting ready to go fishing for eggshells. "You could have been the one to keep Kitty distracted, you know. Instead of Mary. Who can bake."

As agreed in their WhatsApp chat, Mary had taken Kitty out half an hour ago, claiming to need help with the restock for the café. Julian, Robin and Thomas were currently busy decorating the drawing room for a surprise birthday party later. Now and then, bangs and high-pitched shrieks could be heard from that part of the house. Pat, Humphrey and the Captain were in charge of the birthday cake.

"I doubt I would have been able to distract her for very long," the Captain said and stepped aside to give Pat better access to the mixing bowl.

"Let's get these boys out of there," Pat said cheerily, clearly accustomed to cleaning up messes from inexperienced bakers. He picked up a large piece of eggshell that had miraculously not landed in the bowl and used it to scoop up the shards swimming in the batter.

Humphrey bent over the counter to watch the process. "It's Kitty," he said to the Captain. "She gets distracted by everything. You two could have talked about bugs or something." She had a penchant for gross stuff.

The Captain made a noise in his throat.

"And she likes you," Humphrey continued.

When he did not receive a retort, he looked over to see the Captain blink at the ceiling.

Before Humphrey could open his mouth to argue his case, Pat stepped away from the counter.

"That's all of them, I think," he announced.

They all stared at the considerable eggshell pile next to the mixing bowl.

"Let Humphrey do the others, yeah?" Pat scooped up the egg detritus and walked off.

"Yeah," Humphrey said slowly. "I'm not even sure I can trust you with the electric mixer, mate." That had been his job until now and he was unwilling to give it up and then spend the afternoon scraping batter off the ceiling or driving to the hospital with an open neck wound.

"I was trained to handle weapons, you know," the Captain muttered, clearly gearing up for a pout.

"And that worries me."

Humphrey picked up an egg from the carton and, under the watchful eye of the Captain, cracked it open against the side of the bowl. He breathed a subtle sigh of relief when no new eggshells joined the batter. Because he wouldn't exactly call himself a master baker either.

After this display of egg-cracking extraordinaire, the Captain, to Humphrey's relief, announced that he would be making tea for everyone and Humphrey was left to crack his eggs in peace. Pat showed up with the flour and baking powder and between the two of them, the cake was soon ready to go in the oven. They let the Captain lick out the bowl. That's something he was very good at.

Just when Pat had declared the clean-up complete and they had sat down with their tea, the shrieks from the drawing room were getting louder and more frequent.

"Maybe we should go check they're alright," Pat said, already picking up his mug to take his drink on the go.

"Let's not," the Captain grumbled and stayed seated.

"Um," said Humphrey and watched Pat speed-walk out of the room. He was more inclined to agree with the Captain on this. But he did not want Pat to deal with whatever was going on alone. So he too stood up. "I'm just gonna- I'll be right back, yeah?" He pointed towards the doorway. "Just gonna make sure nobody's getting killed."

He had just spotted Pat at the other end of the hallway when the poor man was bowled over by Thomas. Which shouldn't even be physically possible because Thomas was about as solid as a cloud, living stick figure that he was. Nevertheless, Pat was somehow pushed into the wall.

"Oi, watch it," he huffed. His tea had remained unharmed somehow. Even in a crisis, they were British lads at heart.

"Save me," Thomas cried dramatically, grabbing Pat by the arms. Which endangered Pat's tea once more.

"From what?" Pat cradled his mug to his chest and craned his neck to see what Thomas was running from.

"Me." Julian stepped into the hallway dramatically. He was grinning like a maniac from a horror film. Instead of a chainsaw, he was holding up a yellow balloon.

Thomas shrunk away with a scream.

"An' me." Robin popped up behind Julian, arms loaded with more balloons.

"No, no, no." Thomas covered his ears with his hands.

"What are you doing?" Pat asked. Humphrey could not see his face but he was probably putting on some serious dad-face. He definitely would have put his arms on his hips if he hadn't still been holding his tea.

"Just some harmless fun." Julian shrugged and before Pat could reprimand him, he had procured a needle and made the balloon in his hand pop.

The resulting bang sounded off the crammed walls off the hallway. It was followed almost immediately by Thomas' unnaturally high-pitched scream.

Humphrey almost expected the poor man to jump into Pat's arms. Instead, he ran further down the corridor to hide behind Humphrey instead. Kind of sweet of him to think that Humphrey would be in any way capable of defending him.

"Julian," Pat sighed, disappointment radiating off him.

"WHAT THE BALLY HELL ARE YOU DOING?"

They all whirled around to find the Captain looming behind them.

He. Looked. Livid.

"Go to bed, Granny," Julian drawled. Robin snickered.

The Captain's expression darkened even further. "Do not. Ever. Do that again."

Humphrey was a bit terrified actually. He inched away, pulling Thomas with him.

"Don't you dare," the Captain growled and glared daggers down the corridor.

Humphrey turned to see Julian poised with another balloon, needle at the ready. Beside him, Thomas whined.

The Captain took a threatening step in Julian's direction. Then another.

"Stick in the mud," Julian muttered, loud enough for the Captain to hear. "Come on, Robin. Let's get away from these fuddy-duddies."

"Fuddy-duddy," Robin agreed.

They slunk away.

From the corner of his eye, Humphrey saw the Captain retreat back into the kitchen. He was wiping down the table with a tea towel by the time Humphrey joined him.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"Spilled my tea." The Captain flung the drenched towel into the sink and moved to refill the kettle. "Would you like one?" He asked over his shoulder.

Humphrey was about to point out that he still had a full mug sitting on the table, when he realised that the Captain wasn't looking at him.

"Yes, thank you." Thomas had slid into the kitchen behind him.

By the time another mug and tea bag had been retrieved, Pat had joined them as well. He was breathing a bit heavily. Either he had decided to go for a quick run or someone had received a little telling-off.

"You alright, Tom?" Pat asked as he patted Thomas's shoulder.

"Yes," Thomas breathed more than said. "It just brings up old trauma, you know?"

"Trauma," Humphrey said sceptically. "From what? Terrible birthday parties as a kid?"

Thomas straightened up. "I was shot. By my own cousin."

"You were shot?" Pat cried out in disbelief.

Yeah, that.

"Yes." Thomas pressed his hand to the left side of his torso and grimaced as if he was in actual pain.

"The bullet barely grazed you," the Captain called from where he was intently watching the kettle come to a boil.

"I have a scar to show for it," Thomas cried and immediately began un-tugging his shirt that Humphrey was inclined to call a blouse. It's the billowy sleeves, you know.

Pat and Humphrey were forced to inspect the 'scar' that Thomas vehemently insisted was there.

"I don't really see anything," Pat admitted and Humphrey nodded in agreement.

"Because it barely touched him," the Captain groused.

"How do you know so much about this?" Humphrey wondered. "Were you there?"

"Heard about it just after it happened," the Captain mumbled as he placed a steaming mug of tea in front of Thomas.

"Oh. Really?"

"We are cousins," Thomas explained, dropping his shirt back down and smoothing it out.

"Second cousins," the Captain corrected quickly as he let himself drop into the chair next to Humphrey's. "Once removed."

Pat threw up his arms. "Is everyone in this house related except me?" He looked at Humphrey incredulously.

"Not to this lot I'm not." Humphrey nodded in Thomas' general direction. "And I'm still not convinced that I'm actually related to Robin." There was a part of him that to this day believed that Robin had gotten accidentally dropped in their front garden one day and Humphrey's parents had just taken pity on him.

"Nah, you've got the same eyes, mate," Pat said absently.

Humphrey turned to Thomas. "So you got shot." Somehow that had gotten pushed into the background.

"By my cousin, yes."

"I should probably mention that I'm not the one who 'shot' him," the Captain piped up. His eyes narrowed in on Humphrey. "I know that some of you are inclined to think that that is something I do."

Humphrey held up his hands defensively. He had felt entirely justified in his beliefs.

Thomas sighed. "Francis and I had been exploring the attic of my grandfather's house when we found a pistol. We took it outside. We were foolish of course. Just wee bairns wanting to pretend-duel each other. As it turned out, the pistol was loaded." Thomas paused dramatically.

"And then what?" Humphrey asked when the pause had gone on for a bit too long.

Thomas sighed and returned his hand to his 'scar'. "I was shot."

"Grazed," the Captain corrected.

"I was driven to hospital," Thomas cried.

The Captain rolled his eyes. "Not in an ambulance, as far as I heard. And released almost immediately after. Did they even waste a plaster for your 'wound'?"

"You have no idea what I went through," Thomas retorted.

"Almost certainly not," the Captain mumbled and took a sip of his tea.

"How old were you when this happened?" Pat asked gently, clearly more inclined to be sympathetic.

"Eight. Just a bairn."

"Bairn?" Pat repeated.

"That's Scottish," Thomas informed him. "It means 'child'."

"Yeah." Pat pushed up his glasses. "I know what it means, mate. I just don't know why you keep saying it."

"I'm Scottish."

"What?" Pat's eyes widened comically.

"Oh, aye." Thomas nodded. "As Scottish as the bonny heather."

"You are not Scottish," the Captain scoffed.

"Haud yer weesht," Thomas wailed. "I am as Scottish as shortbread in a tartan tin, sir!" He had put on a bit of an accent.

"Does that mean you're Scottish, too?" Humphrey asked the Captain, just to wind him up. It worked beautifully.

"Neither of us is Scottish," the Captain said firmly, glaring at his tea. "One great-grandmother came from Edinburgh. That's it."

"My great-great grandmother," Thomas confirmed.

"Yeah, that doesn't make you Scottish, mate," Pat said carefully.

"So," Humphrey hurried to say before Thomas could despair. "You knew the Captain when he was a kid?"

Thomas gasped and put his hand on his chest dramatically. "How old do you think I am, sir?"

"True." There probably were about twenty years between those two.

"We never had the pleasure," the way Thomas said that made the Captain look at him sharply, "of meeting until I started working here. I hadn't even been aware of the Captain's existence, quite frankly. I only knew about Fanny."

"Charming," Pat commented. The Captain grunted affirmingly.

Humphrey shrugged, untroubled. "I don't know who the fuck my second cousins are either."

"Once removed," the Captain added.

"Yeah, those," Humphrey conceded. "No idea about any of them."

"Yeah, me neither," Pat agreed after some consideration."Don't even know what that means actually."

And he didn't care enough to listen to Thomas and the Captain squabble their way through an explanation apparently because Pat managed to quickly stir their conversation to other topics. The football scores and Daley's newest accomplishments and Pat's plans for his new Cub Scout group.

As they were preparing the frosting for Kitty's cake, Humphrey watched Thomas carefully approach the Captain. The latter was carefully measuring out the powdered sugar. In the background Pat was beating the butter with the electric mixer, so Humphrey inched his way closer to hear what Thomas was saying.

"Thank you, Captain."

"For what?" The Captain kept his gaze firmly on the scale as he sieved the sugar.

"For earlier. For making Julian stop."

"Mh."

"Humphrey," Pat called over the screams of the mixer. "Get the food colouring!" Then he turned the mixer off.

"Why do we need food colouring?" The Captain wondered into the silence that followed.

"The cake has to be pink," Pat said. "Obviously."

The Captain sighed. "Obivously."

"So."

Humphrey plonked himself onto the sofa with a bit more vigour than he had intended. The Captain, in fear of having his piece of birthday cake catapulted towards the ceiling, leaned away from him with a grumble. Humphrey waited for him to return to his former sitting position before he raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

Frustratingly, the Captain was too focused on consuming his cake to notice. Or he was pretending to not notice.

"So," Humphrey said again.

The Captain finally turned his head to look at him, fork still in his mouth. "Hm?"

"Are you going to make a move?"

The fork was lowered deliberately slowly. "What?"

Humphrey got to work on his own piece of cake. "Are you going to make a move?" He did his best to act casual.

"On whom?" The Captain shifted his gaze from his plate to the other occupants of the room. He and Kitty were the only ones who did not seem to struggle with the unnecessary amount of pink frosting one had to fight through to even get to the cake. Even Pat, who had been in charge of the recipe, was gagging.

Humphrey had known that this would be a difficult conversation to have. They were off to a great start with the Captain being deliberately obtuse. Buying for time probably. Hoping that someone would accidentally walk right into their little conversation circle. At which point, and the Captain could rely on that, Humphrey would cease interrogating him immediately.

Humphrey rolled his eyes. He made sure none of the others were close enough to hear him. "Adam, of course."

The Captain's expression darkened immediately. "No." He returned his attention to his cake.

"Why not? I think you'd have a chance."

"I do not have a chance," the Captain hissed before stuffing a very large piece of cake into his mouth. He looked like a snake swallowing an egg it was so big.

"I've done some research. I'm pretty sure he's ...," Humphrey checked their surroundings again, "gay."

"Research?" The Captain scoffed. "What kind of research?"

Humphrey shrugged. "Asked around a bit. The lady in make-up is very chatty. He's definitely single."

The Captain harrumphed and practically threw his empty plate onto the coffee table. The resulting clatter made everyone turn and stare at him. Lady B shook her head in her usual fashion of disapproval.

"Sorry," the Captain mumbled. Then he leaned back against the sofa's back rest and crossed his arms over his chest, clearly done with the conversation.

Humphrey was surprised he hadn't run away yet. "I think you'd be cute together," he said once everyone had diverted their attention away again. He licked frosting off his fork.

The Captain snorted and shook his head.

"Why not?" Humphrey asked. "Is a relationship not on the table for you?"

"No." The Captain pressed his folded arms further into his chest. He gave the impression of a petulant child.

"How come?" Humphrey levelled the other man with a stern gaze. "Don't tell me you're too busy."

The Captain did not respond and just stared right ahead.

"Why, Cap?" Humphrey asked softly.

The Captain heaved a sigh and leaned forward to pick up his abandoned plate and fork. "I'm not relationship material," he mumbled and stood up.

Humphrey wasn't sure if the Captain had meant for him to hear that. He watched as the other man served himself another slice of cake. To his surprise, the Captain then returned to his seat next to Humphrey.

"I mean ..." Humphrey started when it became apparent that the Captain wasn't going to pick up the conversation thread again and instead shovelled his cake into his mouth at high speed. "I know you are not a ... people person," and that was putting it mildly, "but wouldn't it be nice? You an-"

"Stop it," the Captain said to his cake. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"You haven't talked about it at all, mate."

"And I never will."

"But why?" Humphrey pressed. "Are you afraid of what your sister is going to say?"

"Leave Fanny out of this." The Captain scraped the last of the cake off his plate with his fork and licked the utensil clean. "Why don't you find a partner for yourself if you're so eager to play Cupid, hm?" He stood up. "Or Patrick or literally anyone else."

And with that the Captain left the room, empty plate in hand. Humphrey resisted the urge to toss his fork at the back of the idiot's head.

"Are you finished?" Pat appeared with a stack of empty plates in his hands. "Or are you going for another slice?"

"I'm done. Thanks, mate." Humphrey told him. He might never eat cake with frosting again. He handed over his plate.

Pat stacked it on top of the others and then set the tower of china down on a convenient side table. He sat down in the space the Captain had just abandoned.

"Where'd the Captain go?" He asked. "Kitty wants a dance party."

"Yeah, he probably got wind of that," Humphrey said. Kitty's dance parties always went on for hours. No breaks.

Kitty fluttered over to them and pulled Pat back to his feet. "Let's go, Pat. Julian is getting the music ready." She turned to Humphrey. "Pat volunteered to show us some dance moves."

"Oh, did he?" Humphrey grinned. He could see Pat vigorously shaking his head over Kitty's shoulder.

"Where's the Captain?" Kitty asked and looked around. "He needs to learn the dance moves, too."

"He went to the kitchen," Humphrey told her. If there was one person who could get Mister Grumpy Pants to come back, it was Kitty. The old walrus did not deserve to hide away and not deal with his feelings while everyone else was forced to dance to the point of exhaustion.

"I better tell him that we're starting." Kitty picked up the skirts of her birthday dress and rushed off.

"Is there enough time to hide?" Humphrey asked. He looked at the others. They were all equally enthused about the impending dance party.

"We can't do that," Pat finally said, wringing his hands nervously. "It's her birthday."

Julian cried out in triumph when his phone finally connected to the Bluetooth loudspeakers. Why was Julian put in charge of the music anyway? This wasn't boding well.

The first stanza of Whigfield's 'Saturday Night' began playing. Practically harmless by Julian's standards.

"I don't know if I can do this," Humphrey admitted.

"Yeah." Pat patted his jeans pocket. "Got me asthma spray ready. I'll share, yeah?"

"I might need some mouth-to-mouth action," Humphrey said. "You up for that?"

Pat nodded solemnly. "Anything for you, mate."

"Oh gosh, they've started already." Kitty reappeared, pulling the Captain into the room by the sleeve of his jumper. He looked even less thrilled to be back than Humphrey had imagined.

Kitty deposited the Captain on the designated dance floor and turned to the others.

"Let's dance!" She clapped her hands.

Everyone else reluctantly peeled themselves off the sofas.

"Dancing be the sport of the devil," Mary announced cheerfully. She and Robin were the only ones who didn't look like they were being led to their own execution.

Lady B politely declined Kitty's personal invitation to join them on the dance floor but moved from one sofa to the other, so that she could watch them all perish. Humphrey carefully dodged the balloons that littered his path. He wouldn't want to set Thomas off again.

When he reached the dance floor, the Captain met Humphrey's gaze for just a second and then moved himself further to the back.

"What shall we do first, Pat?" Kitty asked.

They all turned to Pat. Who looked mighty uncomfortable to be in the spotlight. "Yeah, okay." He raised his hands. "We'll start with the mashed potato, okay?"

Pat managed to guide them all through a few eighties-inspired dance moves that Humphrey had definitely all seen before but never been inclined to try out himself.

After three or four songs they had all gotten into the mood enough to relieve Pat off his duty as instructor and show off some dance moves themselves. Thomas's regency courting dance was interesting to see in combination with Kylie Minogue. Mary's moves looked more like she was being burned at the stake than actual dancing. And when Julian performed a very, very suggestive version of 'I'll make love to you' that was bordering on obscene, Pat had the presence of mind to cover Kitty's eyes with his hands while Mary cried out "I don't want him to" in palpable distress.

The Captain, having done more of a swaying-along-to-the-music than actual dancing, thought that the Macarena would make a good opportunity to decamp. Kitty made quick work of pulling him back and right into the centre of the festivities. Humphrey grinned and gave him a thumbs-up when their gaze met.

They played the freeze-dance game to 'Gangnam Style'. Lady B was made judge but it quickly became clear that she was a bit too strict when even breathing was suddenly a reason for disqualification. It became a real problem when she took over a minute between the dancing to judge everyone's posture. In the end, she declared the Captain to be the winner. A bit surprising. Until one thought about it. And then it was not surprising at all.

"Well done, mate," Humphrey told him afterwards. Pat had managed to convince Kitty to let them have a break.

"What?" The Captain had removed himself from the dance floor while they had all still been clapping for his victory and retreated to one of the window seats on the other side of the room. Humphrey had followed in the hopes of smoothing things out.

"Congrats on the win," he said now, debating whether he could risk squeezing himself onto the window sill next to the Captain. In the end, he decided that it was safer to remain standing.

"Oh yes," the Captain mumbled once his brain had joined the conversation. "Decades of training really."

"Here you go, lads." Pat showed up behind them and handed each of them a beer. He had retrieved a whole armload of drinks from the kitchen. "I knew you'd win, Cap."

"Oh, thank you?" The Captain accepted the beer without twitching all that much.

"Yeah, you are always so straight. So this was an easy win for you, wasn't it?"

The Captain tapped his fingers on his beer bottle. Then he looked up at Pat. He opened his mouth. And for a second Humphrey thought, hoped, he might actually say something along the lines of "I'm about as straight as a rainbow, Pat."

But this was the Captain. He closed his mouth again and pressed his lips together without uttering a single word.

"I'm gonna hand these out to the others." Pat nodded to the drinks tugged under his arms. "Gotta stay hydrated." He wandered off.

The Captain visibly deflated once he was gone. So he had almost said something. It hadn't just been one of Humphrey's fever dreams. Right?

He waited for the Captain to speak. To say anything. But, after about two minutes of charged silence, the Captain pressed his un-drunk beer into Humphrey's hand.

"I'll be back," he mumbled and moved past Humphrey and out of the room.

With the way he said it, Humphrey knew that he probably wouldn't be.

"There! Look, Da! There it is!"

Pat did his best to not veer his car off the road with all that noise originating from the backseat. The stable was only just coming into view around the bend.

"Da! Look!"

"Yeah, I'm looking, mate," Pat ground out, hoping that that would stop Daley's screaming.

It didn't.

"So cool! Is that the horse we're going to be riding? Is it, Da?"

Pat breathed a sigh of relief once he had safely parked the car next to the Captain's quad bike. Only then did he register the horse in the paddock in front of them. It was already saddled, so it was very likely that this was indeed the horse Daley would be riding on.

"Daaaa."

Pat felt Daley push his feet into the back of the driver's seat.

"Hey, stop it." He turned to throw a pointed look at his son. Daley knew better than to put his muddy boots on any fabric. Pat wasn't to fussed about the cleanliness of his car but footprints on the seats was going too far.

"Can we go? Please, Da?" Daley smiled sweetly. Until he saw something outside the car. "The Captain! Look! Hi, Captain!" He started waving manically.

Pat turned to see the Captain come to a stop a few metres away from them. He had his hands stuffed deep into his jacket pockets and his brow in its typical furrow.

"Daaaa, come on." Daley was shaking back and forth with excitement.

Pat smiled fondly at him and then peeled himself out of the car.

"Hey Cap."

"Patrick."

Elation was running high on both ends then.

Pat suppressed a grin and opened the door to the backseat. Daley's excited chatter and squirming made the unbuckling process a bit bothersome. The boy was old enough to get out of his car seat by himself but he was busy chattering away to the Captain. At a volume that was unhealthy for Pat's ears.

To be fair to Daley, he had waited a long time for this. The weather on his last two visits had been too extreme for a pleasant horse-riding experience. Today it was still cold but at least the conditions were dry.

As soon as Daley had tumbled out of the car, he sped over to the Captain. His big winter boots tripped him up on the way there and Daley met the hard ground with a splat. But before either of the adults could react, he had picked himself up and continued on his way. He was so marshmallowed into his thickest winter gear that there was no way he had even felt the impact.

"Howdy!" Daley flung himself at the Captain and hugged him around the waist.

The Captain visibly tensed. Pat fully expected the man to push Daley away or step out of the embrace. But the Captain just stood there and let Daley squeeze him half to death. He didn't take his hands out of his pockets to return the gesture but Pat knew that receiving a hug from the Captain was as likely as the horse in the background dancing a jig. The Captain mumbled something that Pat wasn't quite able to hear but it made Daley squeal, so it must have been something delightful.

Daley finally let go of the Captain's legs and the Captain led him off to the stable, leaving Pat to shuffle after them like a forgotten third wheel. By the time he made it inside, Daley was already wearing a helmet with the Captain kneeling in front of him to adjust the straps. Or trying to. Daley kept attempting to look past him to see the other horses, chattering away.

"Can we go see them?" He was asking when Pat approached. "What are they doing? Will they be sad if we leave them here? Can we take them with us?"

"I'm not taking a troop of horses on a walk," the Captain replied a bit tetchily. He was getting visibly frustrated with Daley's constant movements.

"Hold still, mate," Pat told his son because the Captain wouldn't. He laid a hand on Daley's little shoulder.

Daley kept buzzing , despite his touch, but calmed down enough for the Captain to fit the helmet safely on his head. Pat had made sure to select one of Daley's thinner hats for the adventure. The wind was biting today and little ears needed protection. But so did the noggin.

The Captain hummed as he gently pulled on the straps and the helmet itself to make sure it was secured correctly. Satisfied with his job, he rose to his full height.

"Let's greet the other horses," he said, gesturing to the doorway that led to the stable proper.

Daley began jumping up and down again immediately.

"You'll be required to remain calm for this manoeuvre." The Captain said this so seriously that Daley stopped in his tracks to look up at him.

Then he nodded sombrely. "Yes, sir."

That seemed to throw the Captain for a bit of a loop and he blinked down at Daley as if he had never seen the kid before.

He cleared his throat. "This way."

The Captain turned towards the doorway but stopped when Daley reached out and grabbed his hand. He stiffened immediately.

"I'll be good, okay?" Daley said, looking up at the Captain with the most serious expression Pat had ever seen on him.

The Captain stared down at him, then nodded.

Pat quietly followed them as they walked from box to box and the Captain introduced each horse by name and favourite snack. He procured some apples from a bucket and showed Daley how to feed them to the animals. Daley was understandably worried at first because horse teeth looked terrifying and Daley's fingers were tiny. Pat would have preferred for them to skip this part of the adventure but the Captain did not seemed worried about chewed up limbs. He held out the apple and let the horse that was called Jasper slurp up the fruit with an unnecessary amount of slobber.

When Daley saw that, he giggled. And then decided that he wanted to feed the horses after all. Typical.

Pat was invited to join the experience but he politely declined. Horses weren't really his thing. Or he theirs. They always seemed to look at him with distrust. Which is why he had always circumvented any horse-related activities with his Cub Scouts.

Daley did not seem to have inherited that particular aversion. He happily burbled out some cowboy story as he and the Captain thoroughly washed their hands. The Captain hummed along with a bit of a distant look in his eyes.

They finally stepped out onto the paddock where the last horse was waiting for them.

"This is Montague," the Captain said as they slowly approached the grazing animal. Daley had once again slipped his hand into the Captain's.

Pat wanted to keep his distance but he also needed to be near enough to drag Daley away if the horse suddenly decided to try and eat the lad.

"Hi Monty," Daley chirped and waved with his free hand.

Monty lifted his head and gazed at them for a moment. Then he snorted and went back to grazing.

The Captain led Daley closer while giving an introduction to horse safety. Never walk behind them, don't startle them, all that. Daley nodded along as he let Monty sniff him.

"He likes me," he breathed out, clearly awestruck when the horse knocked his nozzle against Daley's helmet. "Look, Da. Monty likes me."

Pat, becoming a twitchy mess at the sight of a horse's mouth so close to his son's precious face, gave a wavering thumbs-up.

"Yeah, he sure does, mate. Let's get a photo, yeah?" He pulled out his phone. "Get in the shot, Cap."

The Captain looked up from the saddle strap he was adjusting. "What?"

Pat held up his mobile and nodded towards Daley. "Memory shot for the photo album. Stand next to Daley."

"Oh."

Pat lowered his phone. "Unless you don't want to?"

The Captain's moustache twitched. Then he slowly inched his way towards Daley. He grabbed Monty's reins and gently pulled on them to get the horse to stop nibbling the boy's head gear.

"Smile, Monty," the Captain instructed seriously. Which made Daley laugh and the Captain look at him with a small smile of his own. Luckily, Pat had his camera ready.

Then he waited for the other three to arrange themselves in a more formal formation. He got some more shots with Daley grinning widely but the Captain wearing an expression that made Pat suspect that he had no idea how a face worked.

"Daaa, I wanna go," Daley whined eventually.

Fair, that is why they were here after all.

"Oh, one more thing." The Captain moved over to the bag that was attached to the saddle and pulled out two walkie-talkies.

Daley lit up at the sight of them.

"We'll take one with us." The Captain walked over and handed one to Pat. "Channel Six. Just in case you miss us."

The Captain held meaningful eye contact for a long second and Pat thought he understood what the other man was trying to say without actually saying anything. 'If your kid throws a tantrum, please come and pick him up.'

Then the Captain knelt down next to Daley and held the walkie-talkie between them. "Let's give it a try. You push this button."

Daley followed the instruction and the walkie-talkie in Pat's hand let out a very beepy and annoying ringtone.

"And then you push and hold this button to talk." The Captain made a shooing motion with his hand and Pat hurried a few metres away.

"Howdyyy cowboy." Daley's voice was transmitted disturbance-free. The giggle that followed was too.

"Cool," Daley summarised the experience when Pat rejoined them.

"I'll put it right here." The Captain straightened up and lifted his jacket to clip the walkie-talkie onto his belt. "And my mobile phone is in this pocket." He unzipped his coat to indicate the left pocket of his fleece jacket underneath.

With a glance in Pat's direction, he knelt down to Daley's level. "Daley, are you familiar with the number for emergency services?"

"Like fire trucks and police?"

"And ambulances, yes."

"Oh, do we need an ambulance?" Daley looked around.

"Not right now," the Captain hurried to say. "But if we did, what number would you call?"

"9-9-9. Right, Da?" Daley looked up expectantly.

"Hang on," Pat spoke up.

The Captain's steely gaze turned to him.

"You aren't planning on getting trampled by the horse, right?" Pat asked him.

Daley's eyes widened. Okay, maybe they shouldn't be having this conversation right in front of him.

The Captain frowned and stood up from his kneeling position with a crunch. "What?"

"Or fall down a ravine?" Pat went on. "Or have a shoot-out with bandits?"

"I wanna shoot bandits." Daley immediately brandished an imaginary gun and began aiming at imaginary targets. "Bang, bang, bang."

The Captain watched him with wide, confused eyes. He turned to Pat. "What on earth are you talking about?"

Pat put his hands on his hips. Luckily, Daley had moved far enough away from them that he wouldn't hear them. "It sounds like you are planning for Daley to be, at some point, by himself. In need of help."

At first, Pat had thought the Captain was doing all this to reassure Pat that Daley would be safe with him. Which Pat, for the record, had never had any doubt about. But it seemed like it was at least as much to prepare Daley for a situation in which the Captain was, for some reason, unable to operate the devices himself.

The Captain cleared his throat and squared his shoulders in the same motion. "It is good to be prepared, Patrick."

"Sure." Pat pulled on his glasses nervously because now that he was being confronted with this scenario, he was having some thoughts.

"There is also a tracking device in the saddle bag."

That did not make Pat feel any better.

"Fanny has an application on her phone for it," the Captain went on, very much oblivious. "She has probably forgotten how to use it." He laid his head to the side. "I should have had you download it beforehand, so you could track us yourself. Sorry."

"Yeah, okay." Pat shifted his feet uneasily. "You're not going very far though, right?"

"No, we'll stay on the estate." The Captain turned to face him. "You could come with us. If you wanted."

Pat shook his head immediately. "Na, I'm alright, mate."

The Captain pulled on a saddle strap distractedly. "I can just lead him around the paddock for a bit if-if that would make you more comfortable." He shrugged and did his best to not meet Pat's eye. "Just thought it would be nice to show him around. But we don't have to. Obviously."

"No, you're right. More exciting," Pat said, a little weakly. "Just don't fall off the horse, yeah?"

The Captain opened his mouth for a retort but Daley rejoined them.

"Got 'em all," he declared proudly.

"Good job, mate," Pat told him and slung his hand around his son's shoulders.

Daley was clearly waiting for the Captain to comment on his achievement with the way he was staring up at the man with large eyes.

The Captain did a double take. "Yes, well done."

Daley beamed and Pat pulled him further into his side for a hug.

Daley pushed him away with a giggle. "Can we go now? I wanna go."

The Captain turned to Pat with raised eyebrows.

Pat forced himself to get over himself. They'd be fine. So he nodded his consent.

The Captain procured a footstool from somewhere and placed it next to Monty's flank. He stepped onto it and motioned for Daley to come closer. The Captain performed one last check of the helmet. Then he paused. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It looked like he was preparing himself for something unpleasant. Pat wondered if lifting Daley onto the horse would cause the Captain pain or discomfort. Maybe it was the knees?

But before Pat could offer his assistance, the Captain had bent down and lifted Daley up.

And almost immediately Pat could sense that things were going wrong.

The Captain had difficulty transferring Daley into the saddle because the lad's boot-clad feet kept bumping against it.

"Lift up your legs a bit," the Captain instructed him as he tried to lift Daley just a few inches higher. Daley did not do as he was told. The lad was suddenly stiff as a board, wide-eyed and thin-lipped.

"Daley, lift up your legs," the Captain said again, voice strained.

"Cap," Pat started.

The Captain finally managed to get Daley seated, his hands around Daley's waist keeping the boy upright. Daley began shaking his head but the Captain did not see. He was trying to get Daley's hands to hold onto the saddle. Pat stepped closer.

"I want to get off," Daley finally managed to say. Pat could tell that he was close to tears from the wobble in his chin. "It's too high."

"What?" The Captain's head snapped up.

But instead of giving a response, Daley extended his arms towards him and let himself slide out of the saddle.

Pat was too far away to safe his son from falling off a goddamn horse. Luckily, the Captain was quick to react and catch him. That made the footstool he was standing on wobble. They teetered on the edge of disaster for a moment before the Captain managed to steady himself.

"Jesus," he gasped.

Pat immediately motioned to pass Daley over to him. The boy resisted for a second until he seemed to realise what was happening.

Pat pulled Daley into his arms, the poor lad trembling in his embrace.

"Is he alright?" The Captain stepped off the footstool and stroked the horse's flank. His eyes were fixed on the shaking boy in Pat's arms.

Pat nodded. "Yeah, just startled a bit, I think."

"Was too high," Daley whined as he pushed his face into Pat's chest. Pat rubbed his back.

"Oh." The Captain looked up at the saddle.

They wallowed in the silence for a while.

"Do you wanna try again?" Pat asked eventually and pressed a kiss to Daley's hair. Maybe he would do better, now that he knew what to expect.

"No." Daley vehemently shook his head.

Pat turned to the Captain and shrugged helplessly.

"You sure?" Pat pressed his son. "You were so excited."

Daley had not shut up about today's plans for weeks. Told all his classmates and his teachers. All of Reading had known that Daley Butcher would be riding a horse today.

"No."

Pat sighed. "Okay." They could try again some other time. "Sorry, Captain."

And Pat was almost sure he could see the Captain's face drop with disappointment just before the man bent down to pick up the footstool and carry it back to the stable without a word.

He returned, face darker than before.

"Would you like to feed the horses some hay instead?" He asked, eyes trained on the bundle in Pat's arms. He retrieved something from his pocket. "I have more apples too. You can give Monty a treat."

He held up the fruit for Daley to see. But Daley turned his head away.

"I think he's done," Pat said, patting his son's back. "I'll take him back to the house. Do you want a ride?" He nodded to the car. "We can wait for you."

The Captain shook his head. "No, thank you. It will take me a while to clean up."

Pat winced. The Captain had spent all this time preparing for nothing. "Sorry, mate."

The Captain shrugged. "It's fine." He bent his head down to watch himself kick a tuft of grass with his boot.

"Film night tonight, yeah?" Pat would hate if the Captain would take this as a reason to not show up later.

"Mmh." The Captain bent his knees a bit to look at Daley. "Goodbye Daley." Which sounded a bit final for Pat's taste but the Captain walked away and disappeared in the stable before Pat could inquire further.

He managed to get Daley safely into his car seat and then sat in the driver's seat to watch the Captain reappear in the paddock. He held an apple in each hand. One he fed to the horse, the other he took a bite out of himself. Until Monty nudged his hand. At which point he surrendered the fruit and let the horse have the rest of it.

Pat heaved a sigh and put the car in reserve.

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes."

"Absolutely very sure?"

"Yes. Scout's honour."

Pat looked at his son over the rim of his glasses. "You aren't a scout, mate."

Daley grinned up at him.

There was now a gap where his tooth used to be. He had lost his very first tooth during film night last night. And it had caused a bit of a celebration with the Button House residents. Daley had insisted on calling Carol to tell her all about it. She had been understandably teary about this big mile stone. Only Pat's trained ear could tell that she was also miffed about not being there for the event. And not being the one to play tooth fairy. That had been Pat's honour. He had rushed to find a pound coin after Daley had gone to sleep with his tooth safely tugged under his pillow. But he could not find a single one in any of his secret stashes. None of the others had been able to help either. Who carried around cash anymore?

In the end they had thrown together all the small change they could find in their coat pockets and bedside tables and the filter of the washing machine to reach exactly 99p. And then Kitty had found a lucky penny at the bottom of the main staircase. Lady Button had provided a silk handkerchief to pile the money into and Robin a thin piece of electrical wire to create a little sack that Pat had then placed on the bedside table next to Daley's side of the bed.

Let's just say that Daley had been delighted to discover the pile of coins this morning. He called it his treasure and had told everyone about it. Pat stopped himself from pointing out that there was hardly anything you could buy with a pound these days. Even at Poundland one struggled to find a good deal. Pat would have adjusted for inflation but the scramble for change had been hard enough. Julian had offered a pile of twenty-pound notes that none of them had wanted to know the origin of.

However, Daley's treasure was, for now at least, forgotten.

"The Captain might not have time today," Pat told his son. And might not want to do it anyway. After all his preparations had been for nought the day before.

The man had been quiet during film night. But the Minions might just have not been his type of film. Pat had been pleased that he had shown up at all. And brought the crisps like he had promised.

"We can go ask," Daley insisted. He was very determined for a lad who fell of a horse in fright yesterday.

Pat heaved a sigh. He mentally prepared himself to console Daley if the Captain ended up turning him down.

"Can I call him on the walkie-talkie?" Daley asked.

"I don't have a walkie-talkie here, mate," Pat said, looking around his room in exasperation.

"Pleeeaaassse?"

Pat groaned. That tooth gap would be the death of him. The new tooth better grow in fast because Daley looked even more adorable now than he had before.

"Fine, let's get a walkie-talkie," Pat sighed, opening the door to the hallway. At least the Captain would be happy that someone finally called him on his walkie-talkie. He kept insisting that they should be using their radios more.

"Aw, no." Daley's excitement dropped, along with his shoulders, when he saw who was walking past the bottom of the main staircase just as they reached the landing on the upper floor.

The Captain had definitely heard him. He came to a stop and looked up at them with a frown.

"I wanted to call you on your walkie-talkie," Daley explained as he skipped down the stairs in a way that was going to get him really hurt one day.

"Who? Me?" The Captain turned to look at the portrait of some Tudor bloke behind him.

"Yes." Daley leaped off the third-to-last step to land in front of the Captain. Pat gave the whole routine a five out of ten. Determined leap-off but unsteady landing. Plus the almost-heart attack it induced in Pat.

The Captain studied Daley with an intense stare. "Why?"

"Because walkie-talkies are fun."

The Captain lit up. "I agree." He watched Pat descend the stairs. "Does your father know how delightful radios are? Because he never uses his."

Pat finally joined the two co-conspirators on the ground floor and put his hands on his hips. "I would if I had a reason to."

"You always use your mobile phone instead," the Captain said. As if that practice was utterly mystifying to him.

Also, Pat had called him a total of exactly once. In all of forever. He can't even recall how he had gotten the Captain's number. Because it definitely had not come from the man himself.

"Can we go horse-riding today?" Daley looked up at the Captain with large blue eyes. "I promise I won't be scared."

The Captain's moustache twitched.

"It's fine if you're busy," Pat added hastily. "I know it takes a while to get everything set up. Maybe some other time?"

"Hm." The Captain weighed his head from side to side, gaze fixed to somewhere above them all. "Today's fine. Whenever you're free." Which was unusually spontaneous of him.

Daley's face lit up immediately. "Right now?"

"Yes. No. You will be required to dress warmly." The Captain looked at Daley's Paw Patrol T-Shirt with contempt. "It is sunny but still cold. Some sun cream would not go amiss. Wear a hat."

"You sure?" Pat asked him, trying to convey that the Captain had the option to say 'no' with his eyebrows and a head wiggle.

The Captain just looked back at him with concern. "Are you quite alright?"

Pat resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. He covered Daley's ears with his hands instead. "You don't have to do this," he said. "He probably won't even get on the horse. Might not go near it."

"That's fine. We can just look at the horses from afar."

"There might be crying."

The Captain's eyes widened at that. "But you will be there, right?" The prospect of tears made him shift nervously.

"Yeah, of course."

"Okay then."

"What are you guys talking about?" Daley yelled.

Pat dropped his hands. "Sorry, mate. Adult talk."

"I'm going to put on my hat," Daley announced and stomped his way back up the stairs.

"And sun cream," both Pat and the Captain yelled after him.

"We'll meet you at the stable in an hour?" Pat asked, turning to the Captain. That would give him enough time to get some food into Daley's belly.

"Alright."

"You really sure?"

"Yes."

So, an hour later, they were back where they had begun yesterday. Monty was standing out in the paddock again, as of yet unsaddled but with a blanket draped over his back. The Captain waited at the door to the stable, a bucket with carrots at his feet. He and Daley went through the same motions, greeting each horse by name, feeding them and stroking their manes when they bowed their heads down far enough so that Daley could reach.

Daley giggled and wriggled and was as cheery as he had been yesterday. But. The horses were safely tugged away behind a barrier. Once they made their way outside, Pat noticed how Daley's steps slowed.

They came to a full stop a few metres away from Monty. Daley shifted as he took in the sight of the grazing horse. Monty greeted them with a snort.

"He would like a carrot as well, I think." The Captain held one up.

Daley shook his head. "You do it."

"Alright." The Captain left Pat and Daley to approach the horse by himself. There were some murmured words and then a crunch as the carrot was devoured. Monty nuzzled the Captain's shoulder in thanks.

Pat felt a tiny hand slip into his.

"Maybe a little closer?" Daley asked, nervously nibbling on the collar of his winter jacket.

"Sure."

Pat let Daley take the lead and they inched their way closer. The Captain was definitely watching their progress from the corner of his eye. He stroked Monty's muzzle and made sure that the horse saw them too by guiding Monty's head a certain way.

"I might have some treats somewhere," the Captain said, louder than necessary.

Daley craned his head with interest as the Captain exaggeratedly rummaged around in his jacket pocket.

"Aha." The Captain's hand re-emerged, a brown biscuit-looking thing between his thumb and forefinger.

Pat thought the horse would go for the treat immediately but Monty only snorted with delight. There was a bum wiggle as well. That made Daley stop walking for a second. But when Pat looked down at him, determination was painted all over his little face.

So, they restarted their trek over to the Captain's side. They watched as the Captain held out the biscuit for Montague to take. Daley's grip on Pat's hand tightened. The horse huffed around his treat and nudged the Captain's hand in a clear demand for more.

"Would you like to do it?" The Captain asked, looking down at Daley, as he held out another biscuit. "No, not yet," he told Monty sternly when the horse got too close. He pushed the horse's head away gently. The animal whinnied with offense.

"No, you do it." Daley had pressed himself into Pat's side.

"Alright."

Monty thanked the Captain for the treat by ruffling his hair with his hot horse breath. The Captain grumbled. Daley giggled.

Pat got down on his knees to look his son in the eyes.

"Mate, are you sure you want to ride the horse?"

Daley nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"You sure?" Because Daley didn't look sure. At all. The way he was tiptoeing on the spot.

"Yes."

"Okay." Pat looked up at the Captain.

"Let's get Monty ready," the Captain said.

Pat had thought that 'getting Monty ready' meant slapping a saddle on top and they'd be done with it. But by his estimates, it took almost half an hour to get the horse saddled. The Captain was very thorough in his explanations. Every strap that was tightened, every object that found itself into the saddlebag was explained and elaborated on. Daley nodded along, more patiently than Pat saw him whenever he explained anything to him.

Once the footstool made a reappearance, Daley inched towards Pat again.

"Okay, mate." Pat squeezed his son's shoulders. "It's okay to be afraid. And if you don't want to do it, you don't have to. Okay?"

Daley nodded, his gaze shifting to the horse.

"It is very high," Pat agreed. "But you hold on tight and the Captain will be up there with you to make sure you don't fall, okay?"

Daley nodded again.

"What?" The Captain appeared next to them. "Up where? In the saddle? No, I'm not getting on the horse."

"What?" Pat got up and turned to face him. "You aren't riding? Where are you gonna be?"

"I'll be leading the horse." The Captain held up the reins.

"I thought you'd be riding too."

"N-no."

"Why not?"

The Captain shifted. "Tha-that wouldn't be appropriate."

"Appropri- what?"

"You can ride with Daley if you want," the Captain suggested.

"I can't ride a horse, mate." Pat didn't want to ride a horse.

"You don't have to do anything. Just hold on. I'll do the rest from the ground."

Daley was watching the back-and-forth like a tennis match.

"Daley, petal." Pat knelt down to his son's height. "Go see if you can find the helmet. But don't disturb the horses, yeah?" He gave Daley an encouraging smile and a gentle push towards the stable. Daley nodded seriously and strode off, shoulders straight with such an important task to complete.

"It's up on a shelf," the Captain said. "He won't be able to re-"

"Why can't you get up on the horse with Daley?" Pat crossed his arms over his chest and levelled him with a stern gaze.

"It's not appropriate."

"Yes, you've said that. Why wouldn't it be appropriate?"

The Captain scoffed. "Do you really want your son to be practically sitting on a stranger's lap?"

"You're not a stranger, mate."

The Captain shifted his feet and cleared his throat.

"What?" Pat raised his eyebrows mockingly. "You get off on it or something?"

The Captain stepped back immediately. "No," he croaked.

"Great." Pat unfolded his arms and clapped his hands together. "I'm giving you permission to sit on the same horse as my son. You probably won't be going anywhere otherwise."

The Captain craned his head back to sigh skywards. "Okay," he mumbled. Still clearly uncomfortable.

Pat looked him up and down. "Is there another reason?" He asked softly.

With the way the Captain was faffing around, there probably was.

And the Captain actually opened his mouth. And then closed it again. Definitely something there.

"Captaaain." Daley returned, perfect timing as usual. "I can't reach it."

"Yes, that was the point."

Daley pouted. "Help me, please."

The Captain seemed to hesitate for a second. Then he wordlessly led Daley back to the building, leaving Pat to air his thoughts to the horse he was standing next to.

"What's going on there then, ey?"

Monty snorted.

"Yeah, me neither, mate."

And then Pat realised how close he was standing next to a horse. So he took a careful step back. And another.

The other two returned, Daley with the helmet already on his head, the Captain holding his own in his hand.

"Do you think you'll be able to lift Daley up?" The Captain asked as he pulled the reins over Monty's head to be able to reach them from the saddle. "Might be less scary for him if I get up first."

"Yeah, should work, I think."

Sweet of the Captain to be worried about Daley being up there alone for all of five seconds when moments ago he had planned on the lad riding the horse all by himself.

"Daley." The Captain secured his own helmet on his head and bent down to the boy's height. "It's alright if you get scared. If you don't want to ride after all, it's fine."

Daley nodded. "I want to."

"Okay. If you do get scared, please don't scream. That will startle the horse. And don't kick him."

"Okay, Captain." Daley rarely sounded so sincere.

"Jolly good." The Captain swung himself onto the horse. Monty snorted and the Captain shushed him. "Ready, Patrick."

Pat got onto the little step stool and motioned Daley to do the same. It was a bit of a squeeze. "Okay, mate?"

"Yeah." Daley didn't sound okay. But he looked determined.

Pat placed his hands on Daley's torso and lifted his son up. He wouldn't be able to do that for much longer. Daley was growing up too fast.

Daley stayed silent. Pat could feel more than see the Captain's hands wrap around Daley's waist and the weight become less and less. Daley was suspended in the air for a second and then securely placed in the saddle in front of the Captain.

"Whoa. I can almost see my house from here," Daley gasped. The joke was a good sign.

Pat stepped off the step stool and picked it up, so Monty wouldn't trip over it. Then he saw how stiffly the Captain was sitting on the horse and was tempted to put it back.

"You alright, mate?" Pat laid his hand on the Captain's lower leg. He wasn't wearing proper riding gear, just his normal work boots and trousers. The Captain pulled away from the touch immediately. He had enough sense in the motion that he didn't kick the horse in the side.

"This is so cool," Daley gasped. "Look, Captain." He pointed to something in the distance.

"Hm." The Captain fiddled around with the reins.

"Can we go?" Daley swung himself forward with quite a bit of momentum. "Giddy up, Monty!"

The Captain looked ever closer to a stroke. He managed to keep his instructions for Daley to keep still surprisingly gentle.

"Okay." Daley scooted back, pressing himself right to the Captain's front. "Like that?"

Definitely not like that if the Captain's expression had anything to say about it. Pat was ready to put a stop to it all but the Captain managed a strangled "Yes, just like that" and ordered the horse into motion.

Pat watched them complete a round of the paddock in a very slow trot. Or whatever this horse walk was called. They were going very, very slowly. Probably not a trot, actually.

By the time they returned to where Pat was standing, the Captain still looked like he would rather be anywhere else. He winced every time Daley moved against him. Now, Pat had known that the Captain wasn't one who welcomed hugs or even mild touches with ease. Sometimes he outright jumped away. But Pat hadn't realised that his aversion to touch was this bad. Maybe Pat should prepare himself to get up on the horse after all. Or just call the whole thing off. They had done a round around the paddock. Daley would be stoked for days.

"Go, cowboy, go!" His lad was clearly having the time of his life.

The Captain steered them into another round. And then another. By the fifth round, the Captain had not relaxed. His shoulders were still stiff, his spine straight. But Pat had seen enough people on horses that he knew that that was just sort of how you rode a horse. And it was the Captain. For whom it was biomechanically impossible to slump anyway. He had, at least, stopped squirming away from Daley's movements. He had even laughed at something Daley had said just now. They made their way past Pat once more.

"Can we go up there?" Daley pointed to the hill where the roof of Button House could just be seen over the trees.

"Hmm." The Captain brought Monty to a stop and turned to look down at Pat.

Pat returned his gaze with narrowed eyes. "Yeah, um, maybe we are do-"

"Pleeeeaaaase, Da. I wanna hunt some buffalo."

"There aren't any buffalo, mate."

"Yes, there are," the Captain said with a serious nod. "I saw one grazing yesterday."

Pat glowered up at him. What a pushover. Pat had meant to give the Captain an out of a clearly uncomfortable situation but if he wanted to go hunt imaginary buffalo instead, fine.

"Watch for robbers," Pat said. "Heard this place is teaming with them."

"We have guns," Daley told him and held up his hand with extended thumb and forefinger in the universal gun pose. "Right, Captain?"

The Captain raised his own imaginary gun and fired it straight into the air. "Pom pom," he deadpanned, looking Pat straight in the eye.

Daley giggled.

"We need to talk about gun safety, mate," Pat said, sighing. "Don't get trampled by the buffalo, alright?"

Pat retreated to the edge of the paddock. He waved the other two off and then went back to his car to play a game on his phone. He wasn't going to stand in the cold and watch a fantasy buffalo hunt. He did glance up now and then to see Monty and his two passengers get smaller and smaller in the distance as they ascended the hill towards Button House.

The bling-bling-bling from his game was interrupted by an incoming phone call when Daley and the Captain were just two stick figures on a stick horse in the distance. It was unclear whether the hunt had actually commenced yet.

"There is a bit of a situation," was the first thing Humphrey said when Pat answered the call.

Pat pinched the bridge of his nose as he watched the only actual six-year-old on the premise get smaller and smaller with distance. "Hit me with it," he sighed.

"So, you know that one button on your air fryer that nobody knows what it's for?"

"Yes." Pat leaned his forehead against the steering wheel. "Did you push it?"

"No." Humphrey's indignation was ear-piercing. Quieter he said, "Robin did."

"And what happened?" There were no people screaming in the background, no sirens. Pat checked the horizon but there was no bellowing smoke cloud hanging over the landscape, so he assumed that the house wasn't burning to the ground right now. And probably no one had gotten too hurt.

"Nothing at first," Humphrey said slowly. "And then it started beeping. Very obnoxiously. It hasn't stopped. Lady B is ... agitated?" His voice noticeably rose towards the end.

"You are right, I am," came her comment from the background, followed by a confirming bark. From Dante, not Lady Button. Presumably.

Pat sighed. "Give me five minutes," he muttered.

"Thanks, Dad. I mean Pat."

Pat rolled his eyes. Then he picked up the walkie-talkie he had placed on the dashboard earlier. He pressed the call button. He hoped that the ringtone wouldn't startle the horse. Or startle Daley and the Captain enough to make them fall off the horse.

There was some crackling, then nothing, then more crackling. Finally Daley's voice came through. "Da, hi." Before Pat could respond, Daley added a giggly "Over."

"Status update on the buffalo hunt, mate? Over."

"We saw a rabbit." Then static. "Over."

"Very exciting," Pat said indulgently. "Listen, I gotta go back to the house for a bit. Bit of a situation. But you can call if you need me, okay?"

The response took concerningly long. Especially when, after all that waiting, all Daley said, was "Okay."

"Good luck on your hunt, mate. Over."

"Byyeeee."

Pat had already placed the walkie-talkie down on the passenger seat when it came back alive with "Over and out".

Pat shook his head as he smiled. Daley seemed to be having the time of his life. After yesterday, he had not thought it possible.

When Pat got back to the house, Dante was waiting for him by the front door, immediately yapping and swirling around his feet. There was indeed an obnoxious beeping coming from the depths of the house. Probably the kitchen because that's where the air fryer lived.

"Patrick." Lady Button appeared from nowhere. "I demand you take care of this nonsense right away."

"Me not do it." Robin appeared equally out of thin air.

"You most certainly did," Lady Button snapped at him. "There are witnesses."

"Humphrey not to be trusted," Robin muttered while he crossed his arms over his chest.

"What?" Humphrey, at least, had the sense to walk out of the hallway that led to the kitchen. "It's you who pushed the button even though I told you not to. Hi Pat."

"Could be listening device."

Humphrey scoffed. "Who'd want to listen to us?"

"Aliens."

"Pat got the thing from his parents. I doubt they're conspiring with aliens to spy on us."

"Who know." Robin narrowed his eyes in Pat's direction.

"Just turn the noise off," Lady Button told them. "Come along, Dante."

The dog followed her through the drawing room rather reluctantly, frequently turning his head back to look in Pat's direction.

Humphrey and Robin were still squabbling and Pat was eager to leave them to it to solve the problem at hand. Unfortunately, the two followed him all the way to the kitchen where, to Pat's surprise, everyone else was congregated around the air fryer with differing expressions of irritation.

Pat bent down in front of the thing and hmm-ed at it.

"We just push-y again?" Robin suggested, his finger inching towards the button that had started this whole issue.

"No," bellowed the others. Humphrey grabbed Robin's arm to pull him away.

Pat straightened up and scrunched up his nose. "That's what I was gonna do actually."

"It be catching fire for sure." Mary drifted towards the door just in case.

"We will be forced to listen to these wails of woe for eternity," Thomas, well, wailed.

"Whales very big," Robin said wisely.

"Reminds me of the time me and the lads set our college hall on fire," Julian reminisced.

Mary whined and brought her hands to her mouth.

"Not literally of course," Julian conceded. "We just partied so hard that the fire alarm was set off."

Suddenly everyone had something to say. About whales and fires and butterflies. The last one was Kitty's contribution to the matter. It was all very loud and nobody was listening to anything anyone else was saying.

And during all of this, the air fryer beeped away, the noise barely audible over the bickering.

And then it stopped.

They all fell quiet and turned to see Robin innocently hiding his hands behind his back. "Wasn't me."

The squabbling started up again. Pat left them to it. He turned the air fryer on to see if it was still functioning normally. It looked like it was.

"You guys ready for lunch?" He called out. He had planned to wait with lunch until Daley got back but a little snack wouldn't go amiss.

Pat had just opened the fridge when his phone rang. It was the Captain, so Pat hurried to answer.

"Daaaaa."

It wasn't a cry of pain or trauma but of irritation.

"Hi Daley." Pat pressed his phone between his cheek and shoulder so he could rummage through his food supplies.

"Daaa, where is your walkie-talkie? I've been calling for ages."

"Sorry, mate. Left it in the car."

"Come outside. Where is Humphrey? I wanna show him my cowboy moves."

"You have cowboy moves now?"

"Yeah."

"And you're right outside?"

"Yes. Hurry up." There was some rustling and what Pat thought was the Captain saying something. Then Daley added, "Please."

"Yeah, okay. We'll be right out."

Pat waved Humphrey away from the still-ongoing arguments. He was visibly excited to see Daley's newly acquired cowboy skills.

They hurried to the front door where Dante was scratching at the worn wood to be let outside. Only when Pat had already opened the door and Dante had dashed outside, did Pat realise that a barking dog might not be a good idea to have around a horse. But Monty seemed unfazed by Dante charging at him.

The horse continued to graze on the front lawn with barely a flick of the ears. The Captain, still sat atop with Daley, seemed unconcerned about the state of the grass. Pat hoped that Lady Button wouldn't witness this infraction of her most important rule.

"Howdy," Daley yelled as Pat and Humphrey walked closer.

"Wow," Humphrey gasped. "Is that Sheriff Daley? You taking your deputy out for a ride?" He nodded in the Captain's direction.

The Captain glowered back. Daley giggled and accidentally bonked his helmeted head against the Captain's shoulder.

"We went on a buffalo hunt," Daley told Humphrey.

"Wow, not easy to do in these parts." Humphrey reached out to stroke Monty's flank. He had more experience with horses than Pat did and was therefore a lot more comfortable around them. "How many did you catch?"

"None," Daley conceded. "But we saw three rabbits. And a deer."

"Cool." Humphrey nodded. "Came across any robbers?"

"No. The Captain said they know better than to come here."

"Yeah, true." Humphrey grinned up at the Captain and Pat could see the Captain's frown lift a bit. "Maybe you can arrest Robin later. He was a naughty boy."

"Did he rob a bank?" Daley lifted up his fantasy gun. "Or kidnap a pretty lady to tie her to the train tracks?"

Humphrey laughed and even the Captain snorted. Pat squinted up at his son. There definitely had been too much cowboy-related media consumed beforehand.

"He pushed a button on the air fryer he wasn't supposed to push," Humphrey said seriously. "Because none of us know what it does. He could have blown up the house."

Daley's eyes widened and he craned his neck to check the state of the house. "Was there a fire?"

"No, it just started beeping."

"How can you not know what the buttons on your kitchen devices are for?" The Captain asked, eyes pinched with irritation. Or confusion.

"Dunnow." Pat shrugged. " It's not needed for the actual air-frying, so I haven't bothered to find out."

"Do you mean the button for the self-clean mechanism?" The Captain asked.

Pat squinted up at him. "The what?"

"The button for the self-clean function. The large black one."

"There is a self-clean option?" Pat pushed up his glasses. He had never heard of it.

"How do you know that?" Humphrey chimed in.

The Captain's expression pinched further. "I read the manual."

"Of course you did." Humphrey shook his head with a grin.

"Maybe we should read it too," Pat suggested uncertainly. A self-cleaning option sounded grand. What else was he missing out on?

"Na, I'll keep winging it," Humphrey said, grinning mischievously.

"I won't help when you almost decapitate yourself again," the Captain replied, pulling on the reins when Monty moved further up the lawn to get to another patch of grass.

"I don't think there's much risk of decapitation with an air fryer, mate," Pat said.

"I didn't believe there was a risk of decapitation with a television either," the Captain replied grumpily with a pointed glare in Humphrey's direction.

Yeah, Pat still hadn't gotten the full story of that particular event. Maybe he should finally ask Robin for the re-enactment.

"I was promised cowboy moves," Humphrey reminded them all.

"Yes, let's go." Daley pumped his fist into the air and almost decked the Captain's nose in the process.

"I don't know what cowboy moves are," the Captain admitted, once he had recovered from the assault.

"When we go super fast." Daley swung his arm back and nearly threw the Captain off the horse this time.

"Steady on, mate," Pat told him and dared to step closer to lay a calming hand on his son's thigh.

"We have barely worked our way up to a proper trot." The Captain went cross-eyed as he frowned down at the boy sitting right in front of him.

"Let's do it now. Can we jump over the fence too?" Daley pointed to the barrier that marked the line where the well-groomed lawn became a more free-flowing field.

"Not with this one." The Captain leaned back a bit to stroke Monty's side with visible fondness in his eyes.

The Captain's shift in position was enough to make Daley cling to the saddle and squeak in fright. No jumping fences anytime soon then. Which was alright with Pat actually. He trusted the Captain but he didn't come across as much of a show jumper.

Humphrey laid his head to the side, a glint in his eye that Pat did not like the look of. "Maybe you can somersault off the horse instead," Humphrey suggested. "That'd be pretty cool."

"No," Pat rushed out to say and only afterwards realised that the Captain had done the same.

"You are boring." Humphrey pouted. "I could definitely do it."

"You'd kill yourself trying," the Captain said grumpily. "And I wouldn't even call an ambulance this time."

"Wow." Humphrey laid a dramatic hand on his chest. "You're cold, man."

"I'm not. But we all will be if we stand around like this for much longer. So we'll keep going." The Captain pulled on the reins to tell Monty that his lunch break was over. "Say goodbye, Daley."

"Goodbye Daley," the boy parroted dutifully. Then he giggled himself silly while the Captain turned the horse around.

This quiet, serene scene was shattered when a window was thrown audibly open and Lady Button's voice shrilled across the fields.

"OFF THE LAWN. OFF THE LAWN! GET OFF THE LAWN!!!"

Pat saw the Captain roll his eyes so hard that they threatened to get blown into the stratosphere.

"OFF THE LAWN!"

"Yes," the Captain said drily. "Get off the lawn, you absolute heathens."

"You are on the lawn too," Humphrey protested. He and Pat had made no move to follow the shouty orders.

"Technically I'm not." The Captain pointedly spread his legs apart to remind them that his feet weren't touching the ground.

"CAPTAIN! Get off the lawn this instant!"

The Captain muttered something possibly rude under his breath.

"This will have consequences, young man!"

The Captain sighed a very long-suffering sigh. "Keep Dante with you, will you?"

The dog perked up at the sound of his name.

"No, you're staying here," the Captain told him sternly. Dante whined. "No."

Pat stepped forward to grab the little guy. Dante was not amused. He squirmed and whined but did not actually try to jump out of Pat's arms.

"Thank you," the Captain said. "We will see you in a little while. Patrick, I will call you when we are back at the stable."

"'kay, mate."

"Bye, Da. Bye, Humphrey. Bye, Dante." Daley waved to all of them in turn, Lady Button still shouting away in the background.

"Have a think about those somersaults," Humphrey yelled and followed Pat onto the gravel of the driveway. "I could definitely do it," he muttered as they watched Monty carry Daley and the Captain away.

"Mate." Pat hoisted Dante up to his chest. "You couldn't even stop Robin from pushing a button."

"It all happened so fast," Humphrey cried dramatically.

"Sure." Pat slung his arm around Humphrey's shoulders. "But a self-cleaning function, ay? That's something. I should look that up. Don't know where the manual got to though."

Over the next hour or so, Pat got caught up in the usual hubbub of his chaotic housemates. Until his phone rang.

"I'm so very sorry," the Captain said.

And immediately Pat had a dozen different accident scenarios running through his head. One gorier than the last.

"What happened?" He managed to gasp out.

"Your son has fallen asleep."

And Pat was sure his feet left the floor from relief. "Jesus. Could you not give me a heart attack next time?"

"Oh." The Captain paused. "Sorry?"

Pat patted his pockets for his car keys. "I'll come and get him, yeah?"

"We're not at the stable yet."

"Oh." Pat checked his watch. They had been gone for ages. He'd had sat down for lunch with Humphrey after all because he had been getting too hungry. "Where are you then?"

"Near the back gardens. We took a detour."

Must have been a long detour. Wait. "You are still on the horse?" That had only registered just now.

"Yes."

"Okay, you can try and wake him up if that's easier for you." Daley could get awfully clingy when he was asleep. Because they shared a bed when Daley was staying at Button House, Pat woke to find himself being choked half to death on a regular basis. He wasn't sure how that would work on horseback but the Captain probably called because he was done with having his personal space bubble invaded.

The Captain did not say anything for a while. "How do I do that?" He asked eventually.

"Just poke him. Or shake him a bit," Pat told him. "Without throwing him off the horse preferably."

The Captain grumbled and then a long silence followed.

"That does not do anything, Patrick." He sounded mildly distressed.

"Yeah, being a cowboy's hard work," Pat conceded. And Daley wasn't a light sleeper once he was down. He would have been surprised if a bit of poking had worked, honestly. "I'll come get him, okay?"

"I'll return to the house. Meet me at the front door."

Pat had to wait quite a while once he had positioned himself near the fountain outside. Before that he'd had a long interaction with Dante in which the dog had tried to convince him to let him out again. In the end, Pat had been forced to squeeze himself out of the door like Flubber, so the dog wouldn't escape.

Monty and the Captain came into view slower than they had left the scene earlier. And that hadn't been fast either. Pat felt like he was watching a slow-motion film. He strode across the driveway and stepped onto the lawn, Lady Button's rules be damned, to get the process moving along.

Daley was properly slumped against the Captain's front and the man had been forced to sling both his arms around Daley to keep him on the horse. Daley looked mighty cosy. The Captain looked surprisingly neutral about it.

Only when the horse came to a stop next to him, did Pat realise that he might be a bit too short to make this handover easy. He should have brought a footstool along. Or someone taller.

"Um," he said dumbly and blinked up at the Captain for any suggestions.

The Captain let his steely gaze roam over him. "Raise up your arms."

Pat followed the order without question and then the Captain lifted Daley up and into Pat's waiting arms with seemingly little effort. He did have to lean down quite a bit and Pat feared that he would slide out of the saddle. Pat secured his hold on his son and watched the Captain right himself with a grunt. Daley had not made a single sound.

"Is he alright?" The Captain asked, gaze trained on Daley, once he was upright again.

"Yeah, he's fine." Pat hoisted Daley further up his hip. He felt his son snuggle into him.

"Will he be upset when he wakes up?"

Pat studied the Captain carefully. "Why would he be upset?"

The Captain shrugged. "Because he did not get to finish the ride."

"He'll be alright." Pat stroked Daley's back. "Thanks for doing this, Captain."

"Maybe ...," the Captain said as his gaze shifted out into the field, "maybe we could do this again sometime? If ... if Daley wants."

Daley would definitely want, Pat knew.

"OFF THE LAWN!"

They both groaned.

"For God's sake," the Captain muttered and stirred the horse around.

"OFF THE LAWN! WHERE ARE YOUR EARS? GET OFF THE LAWN!"

Pat and the Captain shared a wry smile.

Chapter Text

Humphrey knew that going to IKEA was not something a clinically sane person readily volunteered for. Therefore, he had been reluctant to accompany Pat to get a sofa-bed for his room. To be fair, they would be going on a Monday when Pat had to drive up to Reading anyway to drop Daley off with the ex-wife after an extended weekend at Button House. So it probably wouldn't be too bad of an event. When Humphrey learned that the Captain would be going as well - and for years to come he would wonder about the man's motivations - he knew he would be having the time of his life.

It promised to be hilarious. On a day-to-day basis, the Captain conducted himself like some kind of alien that had accidentally been left behind on Planet Earth. Or as if he had simply materialised at the age of fifty, or however old he actually fucking was (because he never gave a straight answer whenever Humphrey had tried to ask). The way the Captain spoke sometimes, with his good lords and bally hells and talks about old chaps, was enough reason to question whether he had lived through the last decades of linguistic history at all. He also got confused by most cultural references thrown at him. That man had never even heard of the tv show 'Friends' (which even Kitty had watched from beginning to end despite being a bit too young to have experienced the original craze) and he had no idea who Take That or One Direction were. Mary had, apparently, caught him passionately humming along to ABBA once which only added to the mystery.

It therefore came to the surprise of no one that the Captain had never stepped foot into an IKEA before. And Humphrey was looking forward to being witness to this important rite of passage.

So, on a foggy Monday morning, Humphrey, Pat, the Captain and Daley had all piled into Lady B's car and driven into the morning mist, not knowing what the day would bring.

Pat had tentatively asked the Captain if they could use the trailer the man inexplicably had, despite not owning a car, to make sure there would be enough space for the couch on their way back. Which the Captain had already been confused by because he had been made to believe that couches were a strict delivered-right-to-your-sitting-room-and-set-up-by-the-delivery-crew kind of affair. But he had still asked Lady B to borrow her car because it was the only one in their fleet with a trailer coupling. Which had led to the Captain vehemently insisting on driving because he did not believe any of them capable of driving a car with a trailer attached. Which was definitely valid in Humphrey's case. And Humphrey and Pat were not brave enough to more than sit in Lady B's car anyway. Lest they leave a fingerprint and inevitably pull the woman's wrath onto themselves.

As they drove up to the blue and yellow building that would keep them prisoner for the next hours, days or years, the Captain appeared flabbergasted just by the size of the parking garage.

Oh boy. He clearly had no idea what he was getting himself into.

They entered the building together and Pat had a quick discussion with Daley about taking advantage of the childcare service IKEA provided. That place looked like great fun actually. Maybe Humphrey could go too? They probably had a ball pit.

Sadly, Daley was set against it, grabbed the Captain's hand and determinedly strode forward, the grown man stumbling after him. Daley had equipped the Captain with at least three flimsy paper measuring tapes around his neck and enough cheap pencils to last him a lifetime before Humphrey and Pat managed to catch up with them.

The Captain looked bewildered when they led him into one of the little showrooms. Humphrey tried to convince him that IKEA employees actually lived in them but the man had too much common sense to believe him. Robin had fallen for it years ago and Humphrey had not yet had the chance to correct this particular fabrication. His brother might not believe the truth anyway. He was way too deep into conspiracy theories these days.

They found the pull-out couches fairly quickly and spent way too much time discussing styles and colours - the Captain had tastes that Pat apparently was obliged to follow - before they made Daley lie down on all of them for a quick test sleep.

Daley, with his six-year-old logic, insisted that the Captain join him, just in case they decided to have a sleepover at some point in the future. The Captain appeared adorably flattered by this. He was too tall for most of the beds and Daley finally decided that it would be better to have their sleepovers in the Captain's bed instead. The poor man did not stop looking flustered for a good while after that. He did the thing where he would just blink into space with a far-away look and Humphrey had to guide him along by the sleeve of his jacket lest he be left behind.

Pat and Daley finally decided on a couch and, after noting down its location in the warehouse with one of the Captain's two hundred new pencils, they moved on. It was just their luck really that it appeared that a large percentage of the population of southern England had decided to go on a pilgrimage to IKEA Reading today. The place was packed. The Captain attempted to set flame to every single individual in his vicinity by intensely glaring at them.

Humphrey, Pat and Daley decided to have some fun while he did that.

They thoroughly inspected the selection of dining room chairs and tested their ability to lean backwards on them without falling over.

They pulled out all the drawers in the kitchens to see what other customers had hidden away in them. And added their own random bits.

They sat in the office chairs to find out who could spin the fastest. And who would get sick first.

The Captain pretended to be annoyed by all of this. He was also the one to express the strongest opinions on the decor and colour of kitchen cabinets. He was also the one who could lean backwards in a chair the farthest.

Daley then insisted they test all the beds and mattresses just in case the Captain wanted to get a new sleep system for their sleepover. Going by the Captain's pinched expression, he was not inclined to get a new sleep system.

Pat and Daley spent a good thirty minutes arguing which wardrobe system they would get if they had the chance. Even going so far as to sit down at one of the provided computers to go through the process of designing their dream wardrobes. Humphrey meanwhile tried to play hide-and-seek with a thoroughly unimpressed Captain.

Humphrey suspected that the Captain was just tetchy because he had never played hide-and-seek before and it was therefore something that was outside his skill set. He continually hissed at Humphrey to stop acting like a child.

Until the Captain suddenly did want to play. Without warning, he jumped into a wardrobe and slammed the door shut. Should Humphrey have pointed out to him that he was supposed to do it in a way that wouldn't make everyone in the proximity stare at him? A bloke passing by frowned in a very disapproving way. He even bumped into someone else as he walked because he kept looking back at the wardrobe the Captain had disappeared into.

It took Humphrey almost five minutes to coax the Captain back out of the closet.

"Let's grab some hot chocolate and a snack." This was Pat's fifth attempt to pull Humphrey, Daley and the Captain away from the stuffed animal display. Humphrey had heard him every time before but ignored him all the same. He was too busy arranging all the dinosaurs into their battle stations against the army of giant sharks the Captain and Daley were pulling into position opposite him. This had been his way to keep an increasingly irritated Captain entertained.

They were currently also arguing about the correct plural form of the word "octopus". There was a whole shelf with big yellow celaphopods behind them that had triggered this debate.

"I'm really very sure it's octopi, Cap," Humphrey said as he set down a triceratops next to a T-Rex.

"No, it's octopussy," the Captain, hidden behind the three large sharks in his arms, insisted. A pair of young men walked past and they whistled and shouted their agreement.

"Keep it down, guys!" Pat was pulling on his jeans nervously. "We'll get thrown out!"

"Octopussy sounds funnier," Daley argued as he helped his battle ally bring their troops into a line.

Pat squealed in terror.

Eventually they agreed to google the correct answer as soon as any of them had a signal on their phone again. Because you never had a signal while you were in IKEA. It's part of their tactic to get you to buy more crap, Humphrey knew.

Oh god, he was starting to sound like Robin.

"Right, hot chocolate and a snack then. I need a break." Pat was eager to pull them away from the toys and therefore did not notice when Humphrey snuck two stuffed sharks, a small one and a very, very large one into their shared yellow shopping bag. He congratulated himself on his stealth.

"Where are we supposed to get food and hot drinks, Patrick? We are in the middle of a furniture maze."

Oh Captain, you sweet summer child.

They entered the restaurant just as the Captain seemed to reach his peak of crankiness. He immediately announced that he did not want anything and stalked off to find a table for them.

Despite Pat having repeatedly asked for a snack, he and Daley went to town on their Swedish meatball order.

They found the Captain tugged away in a corner staring out into the crowd like a shell-shocked World War One veteran.

"Got you a hot chocolate, Cap." Pat dropped into the chair next to him and pushed over the mug.

"And cake." Humphrey had chosen a thing with strawberries he now placed in front of him.

The promise of sugar seemed to tug the Captain out of his crisis. He blinked at the offerings, then pulled his typical frowny face. "I did not order you to get me anything."

"Trust me, mate." Humphrey took a sip from his coffee. "You'll need it for what's to come."

"What?" The Captain's eyes widened. "Aren't we done? We pick up the sofa and leave."

His gaze wandered to the stairs that he probably thought would lead them to freedom but would actually take them down into the centre of IKEA hell. The market hall.

"You haven't seen half of it. Eat your cake."

They took their sweet time eating as they listened to Daley prattle on about whatever drama was happening on school playgrounds these days.

Eventually though they had to face the inevitable.

"Where are we? What is this?" The Captain had evidently activated full panic mode.

"It's the market hall. For all the miscellaneous things one might need." Pat paused, crinkling his nose. "Or not need."

"Right." The Captain had a wild look in his eyes as he took in the chaotic scene around him. "We only want the sofa, so maybe we can skip this part?"

"Oh, Captain." Pat stepped in front of him to look him directly in the eyes. He was so short that he had to crane his neck to the brink of snapping. "There is no way to skip it. We have to go through to get to the exit."

"What? That does not make sense. What if there's a fire? I can't be expected to wade through all this cooking ware if the building is on fire." The Captain waved at the objects around them.

"I think they have emergency exits for those kinds of situations," Pat tried to reassure him. "But we will have to push through for now."

"But why?" The Captain honest-to-god whined.

"Because there's no fire, Captain," Pat snapped. "Now pull yourself together."

The Captain's heels clicked against each other and he nodded stiffly. Humphrey could have sworn he heard a whispered "Yes, sir."

Daley had missed this weirdly kinky interaction because he had run off somewhere and suddenly stood in front of them with five different items none of them would ever need. It took Pat several minutes to dissuade him from actually putting anything in the trolley that Humphrey had produced from the sidelines, very much to the Captain's horror.

They slowly, oh so very slowly, pushed forward. They contemplated the kitchen wares for a while and decided that they were in fact in need of some more mixing spoons and soup ladles. Even the Captain grumbled his agreement.

The man had made it his mission to protect their trolley from theft or, more likely at IKEA, people accidentally putting stuff in it. He did not stray away from it at all, knuckles white as he gripped the handle.

That gave Humphrey an idea. After a quick peruse, he chose a set of egg slicers for this project. He had never seen a need for an egg slicer before. Leave alone four! Just use a knife. They came in different colours too. He grabbed about ten of these egg slicer sets that nobody would ever have a need for and waved Daley over.

"I'll get you an ice cream if you manage to put these in other people's trolleys without anyone noticing."

Daley was immediately on board.

Pat was not around to hear or see their interaction but the Captain's eyes had narrowed into suspicious slits.

Daley left for his mission with the egg slicers in hand. More were safely stored away in the yellow IKEA bag still slung over Humphrey's shoulder for later distribution. The two sharks had not been discovered yet.

They made their way past the curtains into the bedding section where Pat realised that Daley would in fact need some for his pull-out bed. He sent the boy, who managed to pry the Captain away from his trolley to help, to choose some sheets. Then Pat somehow had Humphrey aid him in choosing a pillow and duvet.

The four of them reconvened an eternity later. Daley proudly presented the dinosaur sheets he had chosen but did not care one flipping bit when Pat tried to explain the benefits of a four-season duvet to him. They moved on.

Pat picked out a new soap dispenser for his and Julian's bathroom and some bins to store whatever crap he needed storing.

They were entering the section with the lamps and Humphrey thought they were surely reaching the end of this increasingly straining journey when Pat suddenly stopped in his tracks.

"Oh no."

"What?" The Captain was visibly restraining himself from committing mass murder at this point.

"I meant to get a bookcase." Pat's eyes were wide when he turned to Humphrey.

The Captain's expression visibly darkened. "No."

Which was fair. They had argued about the bloody soap dispensers for fifteen minutes.

"But we're here now. I've been meaning to get one since I moved in."

The Captain squinted into the middle distance for a while. Then, surprisingly, relented. "Right. Where do we get a bookcase?" He looked around, maybe in the hopes that one would randomly pop up.

"Well." Humphrey knew where this was going and dreaded Pat's answer."I'd have to look at the options first. Which...," Pat visibly prepared himself for the Captain's reaction, "are back upstairs?"

The Captain glared at an unfortunately placed light bulb. Then he blinked.

"I'm going to look at some lamps. You have twenty minutes." He looked Pat directly in the eyes. "I will leave. I mean it. I'll leave you all here."

Pat nodded and tried to pull Daley with him but the kid stepped away and hid behind the Captain. "I wanna look at lamps, too."

"Yes, let's go." The Captain grabbed his little hand and steered their trolley away.

Humphrey wondered, as he tried to keep up with Pat in the stream of people all going in the opposite direction, how he always ended up with the shitty jobs. Maybe he wanted to look at lamps too.

They eventually managed to reach the shelves department. Climbing Mount Everest would have been a laugh in comparison. People, trolleys, screaming children, trolleys, crying people. It had taken them almost half of their assigned time to get where they wanted to be, so they had only a few precious minutes to find a suitable bookcase or they would end up stranded in this godforsaken place.

Pat hummed at the different options for far too long in Humphrey's opinion.

"I only need a small one I think." Pat inspected a bookcase called Billy. "But what if I suddenly start reading more books?" He eyed the one next to it. Also called Billy. They were all related apparently.

"Just get the tall one. We need to go, Pat." Humphrey really did not want to stay the night.

"Will it fit in the trailer?"

"Yeah, probably not. Let's grab this one." Humphrey took a quick photo of the tag with his phone because the Captain was the one with all the pencils. And also the one who would abandon them if they did not get a move on.

"Okay. Do I want a white one though?"

"Yes, you do. White goes with everything. Let's go!"

Humphrey pushed Pat back into the throng of people, now made a bit easier by the crowd moving in the same direction.

They got back to the lamps where they had left the Captain, Daley and their trolley. None of which were anywhere to be seen.

They looked in every aisle of the lighting department but the other two had vanished.

Pat started panicking almost immediately. "What if something happened to them?"

"Like what?" Humphrey tried to get a signal on his phone. "A kidnapping? Not from IKEA. I've never heard anyone get kidnapped from IKEA. And I listen to a lot of true crime podcasts."

"What if one of them was hurt?"

"Again, by what? This little turtle lamp?" Humphrey bent down to study the selection of children's lamps around him. He did not know it was necessary for children to have special lamps made for them. "Also, I know the Captain was very determined on not letting go of the trolley but if one of them had gotten electrocuted by the turtle, we would have found at least that."

Probably. Once the Captain was on a mission, he was not easily distracted.

"Where are they then?"

"How would I know? I was looking at Billies with you.

Just then a tinny voice rang out over the loudspeakers to announce that some brat needed to be picked up from the childcare place.

Humphrey's and Pat's eyes met.

Then they simultaneously shook their heads.

"The Captain would kill us," Humphrey said carefully.

Pat nodded and Humphrey could swear there were tears forming in his eyes. "He would leave us here and drive home without us."

"Before that, he would take our phones away so we couldn't call any of the others."

"Then he would never speak to us again."

"And definitely kill us."

They looked dejectedly at some light bulbs.

"But how else are we supposed to find them?" Pat mumbled mournfully. "He'll understand. Surely."

"What even would we say to the announcement person? We are looking for a grown man and his name is the Captain?" Even to Humphrey that sounded ridiculous.

"We would use his real name of course."

"Which is?" Humphrey raised his eyebrows.

"Do you still not know his name?" Pat asked incredulously.

"No," Humphrey admitted reluctantly. Then narrowed his eyes. "Do you?" Surely, Pat would have shared such knowledge with him.

"No." Pat's shoulders slumped.

They stood in quiet contemplation for a while as the rest of the population pushed past them.

Then Pat perked up. "What if we let them call out for Daley instead?"

"Yeah, that might work." Bit embarrassing how long it had taken them to think of that.

"Where do we need to go?" Pat stood up on his tippy-toes as if that would actually make him able to look over the lamp-stuffed shelves. It didn't, for the record. He was too ridiculously short.

"No idea." Humphrey shrugged and pointed in the direction that would eventually, hopefully, lead them to the exit. "Let's go this way. There ought to be an employee here somewhere."

Of course, as is the rule of any large commercial business, be it furniture, clothing or hardware, you can never find an employee when you actually need one. They swarm around you like piranhas when you only want to take a look. But the second you are in need of aid, they will know, run in the other direction and hide. It's one of Newton's laws or something.

Humphrey and Pat moved with the throng of people past the carpets and candles towards the houseplants where-

"Daley!" Pat was suddenly running at top speed towards a tiny human intently examining the cacti.

"Oh, hi Da." Thank god it was in fact Daley. Mighty awkward otherwise.

"We've been looking everywhere for you." Pat hugged his son and did not look like he was planning on letting him go anytime soon.

"Yeah, we got tired looking at lamps. They weren't really interesting. And then a person with a plant walked by. And then the Captain wanted to find the plants."

Humphrey could see the man in question study some kind of tree thing. He sidled up to him.

"Did you get a lamp?"

The Captain turned to him, looking mighty disgruntled. "No, I am not in need of one." He pointedly looked at his watch. "You are four minutes late."

Humphrey ignored that. "Did you at least get a scented candle? You must get a candle when you are at IKEA. It's the law."

The Captain's frown deepened. "Is there one that smells like excrements?" He looked Humphrey directly in the eye. "Because I'd get one for you." Then he went back to studying the plant.

Humphrey snorted. The Captain was hilarious when he was grumpy.

"What's so funny?" Pat and Daley had joined them. The latter sitting on his dad's hip.

"The Captain."

"Yeah," Daley agreed as he let his head rest against Pat's shoulder. "He's funny."

The Captain turned to them. "Are we done here then? Yes? Excellent. Let's go." He took two steps to get to their parked trolley and started pushing it back onto the main road.

Sitting atop Daley's new duvet was a very sorry looking little houseplant. Some kind of miniature palm tree thing.

"What ya planning on doing with that, Cap?" Pat asked, studying it.

Hopefully put it out of its misery. It really looked almost dead.

"Shower it with love, Patrick." Oh yes, the Captain was definitely the man for the job.

The Captain came to a dead stop when they entered the warehouse with its high shelves and less constricting energy.

"What. On. God's. Green. Earth?" The Captain held onto the trolley for dear life.

"It's where we go and find the furniture we picked out." Pat was the most patient IKEA customer ever.

The Captain actually factually fell to his knees, rice-crispy sound effects included.

"I thought we were finished," he said in a very squeaky, high voice. "We have to find the stuff ourselves? Where are the employees? What do they do?"

"This is IKEA, mate," Pat told him. "You do everything yourself. That's what makes it cheap. You pull it off the shelf yourself, you take it home yourself, you assemble it yourself." Pat should definitely go into advertisement because he managed to make it sound great.

"I'm not helping you assemble anything," the Captain announced, up on his feet and straight like a ruler once more.

Humphrey deemed that highly unlikely.

"We'll probably need one of these." Pat pulled over a flatbed trolley and Daley immediately scrambled off him to get a ride on it instead. Pat retrieved the piece of paper on which he had noted down the location of his couch from his jeans pocket. "Aisle 35 is our first stop."

They picked up the Billy bookcase first in the end because it was conveniently located en route and then moved on to aisle 35. The Captain was still human enough to keep the flatbed trolley from rolling away as Pat and Humphrey heaved the couch onto it.

"Are you sure there's a sofa in there?" he asked, sceptically eyeing the two rather flat boxes.

Nobody had time to explain the physics to him before he had yet another breakdown when they found themselves in a rather long queue for the cashier. Pat ordered the Captain not to make a scene and the man returned to simply glaring at everything that dared to exist in his vicinity.

When it was finally their turn, Humphrey nonchalantly placed the two shark stuffies he had successfully hidden away until now onto the conveyer belt.

"For your sleepover with Daley," he explained to the Captain who was burned out enough at this point that he did not say anything.

And then it turned out that Humphrey and Daley had not quite managed to distribute all the egg slicer things. Humphrey had honestly forgotten about them actually.

The first set Humphrey managed to explain away easily when Pat held it up with a raised eyebrow.

"You love eggs. Thought you might need these. You can cut your eggs into different shapes."

Pat seemed to appreciate the sentiment. Until he pulled another set from the bag.

"In case the others break?" Smooth, Humphrey, real smooth.

The third and fourth set caused sweat to form on his brow.

"Christmas gifts," he squeaked under Pat's scrutiny.

"It's April, mate."

"You can never start too early." Because Humphrey was known for having his life together enough to purchase Christmas gifts before Christmas Eve. Not.

"Right." Pat rubbed his hands together once they had finished their purchase. "Sweden shop and then hotdogs? It's on me!" His enthusiasm knew absolutely no bounds.

The Captain's on the other hand did. And the bounds had been crossed and crushed. "What on god's green earth is the Swe-" His eyes followed Daley, who, little cuddly shark in his arms, was already bouncing off. "No."

He grabbed the flatbed trolley with all their purchases, pushing Pat unceremoniously out of the way. "I'm taking this to the car. Do whatever the hell you want but I'm done. Goodbye." He strode towards the exit.

"Do you want a hotdog?" Pat yelled after him. "They have veggie ones!"

They did not hear whatever the Captain mumbled into his moustache in response. They did see the middle finger though. The two men left in his wake shrugged at each other. It would be nice to get a break from the cranky baby anyway.

Half an hour later, Humphrey, Pat and Daley approached the car with trepidation. Through the passenger window Humphrey could make out the Captain's form, head and arms resting on the steering wheel, face hidden. He looked a bit dead honestly.

Humphrey opened the passenger door carefully so as not to startle him and found the giant shark stuffy sitting in the passenger seat. With the seatbelt on. Grinning at Humphrey with his big shark teeth.

The little plant had been placed in one of the cup holders.

"Okay, can I-" He made to move the shark.

"Do. Not. Touch. Him." The Captain spoke without looking up.

"I was gonna put him on my lap," Humphrey said defensively.

"Do. Not. Touch. Barry."

"Alright." Humphrey closed the door as gently as he had opened it. He was dealing with a wild animal. And he wasn't talking about the shark.

Humphrey quietly climbed into the back with Pat now squished between him and Daley in his big car seat.

None of them moved for a while.

"Do you want some sweets, Cap?" Humphrey tried his luck and held the bag with Swedish candy out. He had tried one already and they were very sticky and very good.

The Captain peaked out from his slumped position. His hand appeared and grabbed a handful of sweets. He put them in his mouth all at once.

Humphrey pulled the sweets back, uncertainly glancing at Pat who shrugged.

The Captain chewed on the sweets for a while. They really were quite sticky.

They all stared out of the window.

"Where to, Patrick?" The Captain finally asked.

"Carol's house," came the meek reply.

A long suffering sigh from the front seat.

"Yes, Patrick. Give me the address."

The ride was tense. Nobody spoke. Even Daley seemed to know that somethi-

"Captain?"

"Yes, Daley?"

"What should I name my shark?"

"Well, I met a fascinating chap with a splendid name once. His name was Lord Brigadier Sir Anthony Bartholomew Raisinby Jones."

Daley looked at his stuffy in consideration. "I think I'll call him James."

A short pause.

"That's a good choice, Daley."

After a tearful goodbye from Daley at Carol's house (Pat did in fact cry a bit), Humphrey leaned forward in his seat. "Can I move up front now?"

"No."

"Okay, cool."

All the tenants of Button House stared at them when Humphrey and Pat entered the drawing room, the Billy shelf carried between them. Pat also had a detritus of IKEA nonsense in the blue bag over his shoulder.

The Captain had parked the car right outside the front door. After grabbing the little potted plant and Barry the shark, he had stormed inside without another word.

"Didn't go well then?" Julian chortled from where he was sprawled in an armchair next to the chessboard.

"Why would you say that?" Humphrey asked as he signalled for Pat to put the bookcase down for a moment. "It went better than expected." Denial was one way of dealing with trauma, wasn't it?

"Captain getting shotgun methinks," laughed Robin from the other side of the chessboard.

"He didn't even say hello." Kitty was visibly shaken.

Lady B looked simply miffed. She always did when the Captain ignored rules of general politeness. Well, she always looked like that honestly.

"Well." Pat rubbed his hands together. "We got what we wanted. Couch and a bookcase."

"And a will to never go back," Humphrey added.

"Get it up, Pat!"

"I'm trying, mate. I'm not as young as I used to be."

"Push harder."

"I don't actually want to kill you."

"Just do it."

"What on earth is happening here?"

Pat and Humphrey looked up to find Lady Button staring down at them from the landing on the first floor.

The couch began to slip from Pat's grasp and he adjusted his stance to avoid a tumble down the stairs and being crushed into a pancake.

He just about managed to make out Lady Button's crinkled forehead. Was she actually expecting a response? Two blokes and one half of a sofa struggling up some stairs did not need much explaining, did it? Humphrey seemed to agree with Pat's thinking because he made no effort to offer up a response either.

Lady Button huffed. "We have competent men in this house for this sort of thing. Why aren't you making use of them?"

She wasn't implying that Pat and Humphrey weren't competent, was she? Pat would have been offended but he had other matters to worry about.

"We can manage," Humphrey gasped out just as Pat felt the couch cross the event horizon of disaster. He changed his grip and leaned forward to stop the inevitable. Could gravity please have some mercy on him?

"Oh, I can see that."

Apparently the event merited a venture into sarcasm.

"Humphrey, we need to keep going," Pat hissed. "I can't go on for much longer."

Humphrey's response, if there was one, was drowned out by Lady Button's shrill holler:

"ROBIN! CAPTAIN! GET OVER HERE!"

It's not that Pat and Humphrey had been too proud to ask the others for help. They had simply thought themselves capable of the task. And they had not seen any of the others thus far today. Most of them were probably enjoying a lie-in on their day off. As the couch slowly pushed him backwards, Pat silently admitted that maybe they simply could have waited till everyone was fully awake.

"What's happening?"

The Captain's voice came from somewhere above them. Pat was just about able to look up and see that he had joined Lady Button on the landing, casually leaning on the railing. Pat was being crushed to death and this is the moment the Captain decided to be casual?

"These two thought they could carry a sofa up the stairs by themselves." Lady B's contempt was so thick, Pat could almost taste it on his tongue.

"They seem to be doing a smashing job," was the Captain's dry reply. And then he just wandered off.

Pat let out a desperate whine. He regretted every life choice he had ever made. He definitely regretted letting the Captain accompany them to IKEA. The man might have been more willing to help if they hadn't subjected him to the Swedish version of hell.

The descend of the couch seemed to have stagnated at least. If being stuck on the stairs forever meant Pat did not meet an embarrassing end, he could probably live with that. Daley could still visit. They'd just have to meet on the staircase. They coul- oh, sweet Jesus, hands had appeared in his field of vision.

"You ready to push?" the Captain asked as he manoeuvred himself into the tight spot Pat had been able to create for himself. Louder he said, "On three! One. "

Pat did his best to assemble all the strength he had left. Which wasn't all that much honestly.

"Two."

He felt the Captain tense beside him.

"Three."

Pat pushed with all his might. The weight of the couch shifted away and upwards. He could finally breathe again. And he could see that Robin had joined his brother further up the stairs.

Together, the four of them managed to get the piece of furniture up onto the landing where Lady Button was waiting. They all simultaneously decided to take a little breather. And the reprimand.

"What on earth possessed you?"

Pat stared down at the floor. "Sorry."

"I never want to- Did you damage my walls? Is that a scuff mark on the wall? Captain, is that a scuff mark on my wall?"

The Captain's gaze followed her pointed finger. "That does indeed look like a scuff mark."

Lady Button made a scoffing sound in her throat. "Unbelievable. I cannot even-"

"Might have been there before though," the Captain added quickly with an apologetic glance in Pat's direction.

"That wall was in pristine condition. All my walls are."

Pat adjusted his glasses awkwardly.

"Me fix it," Robin said. He hopped down the stairs to inspect the damage. "Easy," he declared with a thumbs-up before disappearing to the ground floor.

"Did you take measurements of the doorways before you carried the thing all the way up here?" The Captain eyed the couch sceptically. "Might have to go through the window instead."

Of course they hadn't measured anything. Who did the Captain take them for? Professionals?

Luckily, they did not have to go through the window in the end. With a bit of creative turning under the watchful eyes of Lady Button, they managed to fit the couch through the doorways and into Pat's room.

As they returned downstairs to get the other half of the couch from the trailer, Pat caught the Captain pulling one of the IKEA paper measuring tapes from his pocket and sneakily taking measurements of the doorways. The second couch piece was also carefully measured from all angles and was declared to not require a window manoeuvre either.

Robin reappeared to help them carry it up to Pat's room. And wasn't it just so much easier when it was four people doing the work instead of two? Pat could admit the error of his ways.

"I want my house back in pristine condition by noon," Lady Button told them once they had set the piece of furniture down next to its companion.

"Yes, ma'am," Pat said quietly, unable to meet her stern gaze.

She turned and left with a huff.

True to his statement from yesterday, the Captain left the actual assembly to Humphrey and Pat and sauntered away. Instead, Julian, Thomas and Mary joined them for a while to provide unhelpful commentary. When Pat told them to just help already, they all scattered, claiming more important tasks that needed doing.

Then the Captain returned with a mug of tea in his hand. Pat had suspected that they would be seeing him again before long. He hummed at the little progress Pat and Humphrey had made with the couch before he sat down next to the unopened box with the Billy shelf. He had brought his reading glasses and Pat pretended not to watch him put them on. Inexplicably, the Captain still felt self-conscious about them.

"Are we sure that's right?" Pat asked doubtfully a few minutes later. Because the couch did not look like a couch. He was trying to find a photo on the IKEA website for comparison.

"The manual says so," Humphrey insisted and waved the booklet around for emphasis. He too was wearing glasses for once. Two men finally coming to their senses, it seemed.

The Captain made a high-pitched noise. He had unpacked the bookcase and sorted all the pieces by size in a neat row. Down to the shortest nail.

"Yes, I'm reading the manual," Humphrey told him, sending one of the large grey pillows that came with the couch flying in his direction. "You happy?"

"Hey," the Captain whined when the cushion upset his perfect line-up. He threw it back, with more precision than Humphrey had. It hit the other man square in the face.

"IKEA manuals can't be trusted though," Pat hurried to say to deescalate the impending pillow fight.

"Why is that?" The Captain asked. He was now lying prone on the floor to hunt for a run-away piece under Pat's bed.

"They are notorious for being confusing," Pat explained. Everybody knew that.

Humphrey nodded. "And they know that. They have the little cartoon man calling the IKEA help line as part of the process."

"That can't be true," the Captain said a bit strained as he tried to reach for something under the bed. "Aha. There you are." He held up a nail in triumph. "Back into formation with you."

He sneezed while he unstuck himself from the floor which Pat half-suspected he did on purpose to let Pat know that the space under his bed needed a visit from the hoover.

"You make sense of it then," Humphrey grumbled and tossed the booklet in his direction.

The Captain took a direct hit to the head this time because he was too busy returning his troops to order. The manual sailed to the floor, sending more pieces flying.

"Sorry." Humphrey scrambled to catch them. Because the Captain was sending him the most scathing look.

"Right." The Captain picked up the instructions. Turned them every which way, looked towards the couch, turned the manual again. Hummed at the furniture some more.

"That part is upside-down." He pointed at it with a screwdriver that definitely wasn't Pat's.

"No, it isn't," Humphrey argued immediately. "You're just holding the manual upside-down."

Which was actually true. They could only tell by the writing on the front page.

The Captain grumbled, turned the manual right-side up, grumbled some more. All while going beet-red. "Now everything else is upside-down."

"Okay. So we just turn everything but that bit around?" Pat asked. Pure exhaustion was making itself known. A cup of tea would be nice right about now.

It took them a few minutes and too many curse words. Afterwards, the couch still looked, well, wrong.

The Captain consulted the instructions again and shook his head. "What blasted idiot drew this?" He asked, the paper crinkling between his agitated fingers.

"Maybe," Humphrey began carefully and Pat immediately knew where this was going, "maybe we should- just hear me out, Cap." The Captain's scowl darkened. "Maybe we should ignore the manual and burn it? Just go with the-the photo fro-from the website?" Which Pat had finally managed to track down. "Yeah?" Humphrey inched his hand closer to the booklet in the Captain's grip. "You wanna give me that? Ye-no, no, give it here."

"No." The Captain stepped back and held the manual above his head. "I shall not be defeated by lousy instructions."

"Okay, but-"

"No, Humphrey."

"Yeah, okay." Humphrey turned to Pat in a silent demand for backup.

Pat shrugged in return. Was he ready to get between the Captain and his principles?

"Captain! My office!" Lady Button's voice erupted from the Captain's belt. "Now!"

The Captain growled, tugged the manual under his arm and pulled out his walkie-talkie. "I'm busy."

"You certainly will be if you don't get over here in the next minute. Do not give me attitude, young man."

"Oh no," Pat whispered. "What did you do?"

It was meant to be a joke but the Captain did not seem to take it as one. "I was born, Patrick," he snapped as he clipped his walkie-talkie back onto his belt and flung the manual onto the bed. "And that was only my first mistake."

That sounded a bit dramatic.

Pat got up, knees painfully protesting. Oh, he was getting too old to be sitting cross-legged on the floor for more than a minute.

"I'll come with you," he explained when the Captain raised his eyebrows. They'd been having such a lovely time. It'd be a shame if it would come to an end because the siblings had no one to mediate them through their squabble.

The Captain's visible irritation was replaced by confusion. "Alright?"

Which wasn't an outright 'no', so Pat followed him out of the room, Humphrey stumbling after them, mumbling something about always being left behind.

"Oh Captaaain," Julian sing-songed when they encountered him on the stairs. "Your old friend is here."

The Captain scoffed. "I don't have friends."

"Excuse me?" Pat spoke up.

The Captain glanced in his direction for a fleeting moment before he turned back to Julian. "Who is it?"

"Oh." Julian grinned. "You'll see."

"Just tell me, you big oaf."

"Big oaf? Why, Captain, I have never been so offended."

"Just," the Captain pushed past him to stomp his way down the rest of the steps, "get away from me."

"Gladly, old man." Julian grinned after him. He turned to Pat. "Grandpa needs a nap, I think."

Pat mustered up his most disapproving glare. "Leave him alone."

He hurried into the drawing room where he immediately ran head-first into the Captain' back. The silly man had barely cleared the threshold. Pat had to dodge past him to see what was going on.

"Ah Captain."

Pat barley stopped himself from groaning. Or retching. Because that voice belonged to none other than Barclay. Beg-Chetwynde. Their neighbour. Who would show up at Button House now and then to remind them all that they did, unfortunately, have a neighbour. He was standing in the middle of the room, taking up the space as if he owned it, and grinning from ear to ear. A brown folder was tugged under his arm. Lady Button stood as far away from him as possible, walkie-talkie still clutched in her hand. Dante stood at her feet, making some kind of rumbling noise. Oh, was that his way of growling? Not very intimidating, Pat was forced to admit. He sounded more like a purring cat. But very sweet of him to try. Barks could be heard outside. So the 'bitches' were here as well.

"Still mingling with the working class, I see," Barclay continued, to fill the silence. Pat was treated to Barclay's apprehensive nose-wrinkle. "But then, you did join them down there in the slums, didn't you? Gardening. For a living." Barclay's teeth shone brightly as he smirked. "A nice hobby to have, of course. You can find me in the rose garden now and then, pruning away. But for a living? Come on, old boy. Your father must be so proud. His only heir-"

"Were you on your way out?" The Captain interrupted, taking two steps towards him. "Because us members of the working class have jobs to do."

Pat felt something brush against his back and turned to find Humphrey and Julian pressed up behind him.

"Just came over for a chat with the Lady of the house." Barclay's grin became even wider. "There is a small issue that I have come across in the documents." He lifted up his folder. "Nothing too troubling of course. Changes in ownership," his glance towards Lady Button was almost an eye-roll, "sometimes cause confusion. Especially when women are involved." He winked at the Captain. "Not their fault of course."

Lady Button huffed out her indignation. It was almost drowned out by several outcries of rage on her behalf.

Barclay seemed to find a strange delight in that display of loyalty, though what he could find delightful about it, Pat could not fathom.

"I can explain the matter to you," Barclay said with a nod towards the office, "and we'll have this sorted in no time." It was disgusting how he was clearly addressing the Captain, deliberately leaving Lady Button out of any decision-making. She was visibly restraining herself from screaming. So was Pat.

The Captain folded his arms over his chest and bounced up on his toes. "Why don't you ask the Lady? It's her property. I'm just the gardener." Pat could not see his face but he could hear the sarcastic smirk he must have been sporting.

"Oh, come on, old chap, let's not play games."

The Captain stayed silent.

"Fine." Barclay rolled his eyes. Reluctantly, he turned to Lady Button. "Shall we?"

"We certainly shall," she bit out and motioned for Barclay to enter her office. Once he had finally disappeared inside, she motioned the Captain to follow. "I will not be left alone with him."

The Captain made some kind of noise in his throat and slowly walked over to her, clearly just as reluctant to be in a room with that man as his sister. Dante greeted him with a snuffle.

Lady Button would not meet Pat's eye when she glanced in his direction and it took him a moment to identify the expression on her face. Embarrassment. She had been utterly humiliated in front of her staff by her bigoted neighbour.

"I can make tea?" Pat offered. Which, he belatedly realised, would play right into Barclay's expectations of his servitude.

Lady Button seemed to appreciate the offer nonetheless. If nothing else, tea would sooth her nerves. "The good biscuits I should think," she said with a nod. Then she followed the Captain and Dante into the office and closed the door with a resounding thud.

"I'll help," Humphrey volunteered and stumbled into Pat's side.

Julian followed them, without the offer of aid naturally.

"What's that all about then?" Pat asked once he had gotten the kettle going.

Humphrey had disappeared into the pantry to hunt down the biscuits. The question had been meant for Julian anyway. If any of them knew about anything going on with the estate, apart from Lady Button and the Captain, it was him.

"No idea," Julian admitted and slumped against the fridge just as Pat tried to open it to get to the milk. "But I shall find out."

"Which ones are the 'good' biscuits?" Humphrey held up two different packs, Tesco brand Jaffa Cakes and original Hobnobs, the latter already ripped open and probably stale.

Looked like the number of people who had been made privy to the location of Lady Button's secret biscuit stash was lower than Pat had originally thought. He wondered if the Captain knew where she kept them. Probably not. The way that man scoffed down anything sugary like it was the only thing keeping him alive, would bring annihilation to any secret stash immediately.

"Set out the tea set," Pat told Humphrey.

"Which one?"

Pat wrinkled his nose. "Third best I should think." Oh, the posh were rubbing off on him. He stepped into the pantry.

They returned to the drawing room, Pat balancing the tea tray with the good biscuits, Humphrey the two packs with the others. The plebs required feeding as well after all.

To their surprise, the meeting in the office seemed to have come to an end already. Barclay was once again taking up too much space in the drawing room, halfway between the office he had emerged from and the front door that Pat and Humphrey were now inevitably, and unfortunately, blocking. He was facing away from them, so Pat could not see whether he was still sporting that smarmy grin of his.

Pat let his gaze wander to the two figures he could see over Barclay's shoulder. Lady Button had barely exited the office before coming to a stop, clutching the door handle as if ready to turn and barricade herself inside. She had dropped her stoic facade and looked ... rattled.

The Captain was standing halfway between them.

Pat swallowed so hard that it made the tea set clatter. If he had ever thought the Captain looked ready to kill someone before, he had clearly been mistaken. The smile he could make out underneath the moustache was outright malicious. And the way the Captain tilted his head made him look like a super villain. One of the capable ones. It did not help that the light from outside hit him just right. Pat was inclined to turn around and leave the room, maybe hide under his bed for a week. And the Captain wasn't even looking at him.

"It will take you more than two minutes to leave the property if you run," the Captain said, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he stared Barclay down. "I only need ten seconds to have the shotgun loaded and trained on your head."

Barclay chuckled. "Come on, old chap." He sounded entirely unimpressed. "We can-"

"I'll call Bunny."

And what the threat of a shotgun hadn't managed to do, this did. Pat had no idea who this Bunny person was but Barclay definitely did. He let out a noise that Pat could only describe as a whine and tripped over his own two feet twice on his way to the front door. Pat had to side-step into the doorframe to escape his erratic path. The front door was almost ripped off its hinges. Barclay looked back once, just before he disappeared outside.

They could hear the gravel crunch under his pounding feet and the wild barks of his dogs.

Pat rolled his shoulders and winced. His left one had met the wall with some force. Humphrey, equally discombobulated by Barclay's hasty retreat, righted himself from where he had half-fallen into a decorative vase. It, at least, had come out of the whole kerfuffle without harm. As much could not be said about Humphrey if his wide, terrorised eyes were anything to go by.

Pat turned to the Captain. "Ten seconds?" He squeaked, making him sound like a guinea pig. The biscuits trembled on the dainty plate they had been arranged on.

The Captain's expression lifted into its typical scowl.

"I'm never getting you angry again," Humphrey gasped, holding himself upright against the wall.

"Oh. It's more like thirty seconds," the Captain mumbled, putting his hands in the pockets of his trousers like he was embarrassed by the admittance. "There is a pass code for the safe and everything."

"Okay." Pat nodded stiffly.

"Right, we have a sofa to assemble," the Captain reminded them nonchalantly.

He walked up to Pat, who, for a brief moment, thought he would be the one to pay the final price of this entire interaction. But the Captain just grabbed the plate with the good biscuits. "We'll be taking these. Come on."

He sauntered across the room and past Lady Button.

"Where are you going? We need to discuss this," she hissed, returning to her usual self. "Where's Julian?" She turned to Pat and Humphrey.

Pat shrugged. They had lost him between the kitchen and the entry hall.

Lady Button huffed. "Can you please go an- Captain! Where are you going? Captain!"

The Captain had taken Lady Button's brief moment of divided focus to retreat from the room. He yelled something that Pat could not quite make out, clearly halfway up the stairs already.

"Do you still ..." Pat held out the tea tray in Lady Button's direction. He hoped that she would not take the lack of biscuits as an offence on his part.

She nodded once and motioned to one of the side tables. "Just here, Patrick, thank you."

They did end up burning the manual. Metaphorically at least.

It had taken them another half hour to conclude, with the Captain grumbling his agreement, that they might give the whole thing a go without the evil instructions. Lo and behold, they had the couch set up in no time.

Just kidding. It still took them the better part of an hour, some curse words and an unreasonable amount of sweat, at least on Pat's part, to get the couch looking like a proper couch, including pull-out function and everything.

Pat and Humphrey had haphazardly thrown the pillows onto it which the Captain had taken personal offence at. They had watched him fuss over the damn cushions while sharing the last Jaffa Cake between them. Which the Captain had also taken offence at. He had then been called away by Lady Button via walkie-talkie. Sounded like she had finally managed to track Julian down.

Humphrey and Pat made a half-hearted attempt to put the bookcase together. They quickly decided to wait for the Captain's return. They definitely could have assembled the shelf without him. But why would they when they had a trained engineer to do it for them. Pat hoped that the Captain would at least ensure that the thing would not end up killing someone by collapsing at an inopportune moment. He'd probably get all pouty if they did the assembly without him anyway.

They test-lounged on the couch and watched videos of cute animals on YouTube until the Captain stomped his way back into Pat's room, a chain of fairy lights and Kitty trailing in behind him.

"How sweet," she observed at the sight of Pat and Humphrey splayed out on the couch in a very undignified, middle-aged men kind of way.

The Captain made a humming sound, eyeing them sceptically before tossing his fairy lights onto Pat's bed. He did not elaborate on his plans for them.

"Gosh, do we need all this to build the shelf?" Kitty asked as she inspected the carefully-arranged pieces. "I bet we need tools. Right, Captain?"

"Of course we do, Katherine."

"Which ones? Do we need a big drill?" Kitty's eyes lit up at the prospect.

"A screwdriver will probably do. And a hammer." The Captain's expression kept switching between exasperation and bewilderment.

"Can I help? Please? Please, please, please?"

"If-if you'd like?"

"Oh, yes pleeeaase."

Pat and Humphrey's gazes met as they leaned back into the cushions. This promised to be highly amusing.

Oh boy, was it.

"What does this do, Captain?"

"That's a nail, Katherine. Here, hold this."

"When do we need the nails? Why are there so many?"

"Later, Katherine. We must- no, hold still. I can't get the- no, hold still, I said."

"Sorry, I'm just so excited. I've never done this before."

"Mh."

"I had no idea it would be this much fun. I wish I had been a boy. I bet my father would have let me do something like this if I had been a boy."

"Right." A pause. "Would you-... would you like to operate the screwdriver?"

"Oh, no thank you. I have no idea how to do it. I'd probably just break it."

"It's not- here, I'll help."

A very entertaining while later:

"Mind your fingers now."

"And I just hit it?"

"Yes. Carefully... no, not that carefully. You have to more than tap it."

"But what if I miss?"

"Try not to."

"I don't think I can do it."

"I'll do the first one. Watch closely ... there. Like that."

"Oh, that was so fun. Do another."

"Alright ... see? That one went straight in. Now it's your turn."

"Oh gosh, do you really think I can do it?"

"Yes, Katherine. Go on."

"Like this?"

"The hammer and nail are required to actually touch for this to work."

"Oh, yes. Like this?"

"Yes, that's better. Keep going."

"Oh, I'm doing it."

"Almost there now."

"I think I'm done. Am I done, Captain?"

"Yes, good job, Katherine."

"Can I do another?"

"There are plenty more. You'll be an expert in no time."

"I think this is the best day ever."

Pat's bookcase now stood proudly, as proudly as a chipboard construction from IKEA could stand, next to Pat's old, and probably antique, dresser. The clash was disconcerting but as long as Lady Button did not see this little faux pas in interior design, it would probably be alright.

"Maybe some lights?" The Captain asked as they transferred Pat's meagre book collection to the new bookcase. "To make the space more homely?"

"Um, sure?" Pat shoved some dog-eared paperbacks onto the bottom shelf.

The Captain had made his question sound like a friendly suggestion but since he had already brought the lights, Pat saw no point in arguing with him about this. If the Captain had decided that Pat needed fairy lights in his room, then Pat probably did need fairy lights in his room. Daley might appreciate them at least. Personally, Pat did not spend enough time in his room to have a real desire for cosiness.

The fairy lights were unceremoniously shoved into Humphrey's arms. "Untangle these. Don't strangle yourself."

"As if," Humphrey muttered, the cable already wrapped tightly around his left arm. "I get almost killed once and my reputation is forever tainted."

The Captain only narrowed his eyes dramatically. "I'll be back," he announced.

Pat grinned. "Terminator."

The Captain squinted at him. "What?"

"Never mind," Pat mumbled, internally despairing.

With the Captain gone, Pat was left to help Humphrey with the lights while Kitty prattled on about whatever she found interesting about the decorative detritus in Pat's room.

"Gosh, who is this cute baby?" She asked, closely examining a photo frame on Pat's nightstand.

"Daley of course," Pat said over the sound of Humphrey tripping over the cable of the lights. Who else would he have a baby picture of?

"Oh, yes." Kitty giggled and moved on.

The Captain returned, a plant tugged under his arm. Not the one he had gotten at IKEA yesterday. This one looked more alive. He placed it on top of the bookcase and hummed, then fussed around with some books.

"Hang on, isn't that mine?" Humphrey asked and pointed at the plant. His movement upset the neat line they had finally managed to get the fairy lights into.

"You have lost all parental rights," the Captain told him firmly without looking up. "The poor thing teetered on the verge of a pitiful and self-inflicted death for a good long while before it rediscovered its will to live."

Pat had a vague memory of Humphrey complaining about his depressed houseplant a few months ago. Didn't look all that depressed now. Lush would be the best way to describe it probably.

"30 millilitres once a week, Patrick," the Captain said.

"Okay?" Pat was already crumbling under all that responsibility. He wasn't exactly known for his green thumb. But he'd managed to keep Daley alive for over six years so far, so he might be alright if he set a reminder on his phone. He wouldn't have to talk to it or anything, right?

"Once a week." The Captain levelled him with a stern glare. "Don't forget six weeks in a row and then flood it."

"I never did that," Humphrey interjected.

The Captain sighed. "I'm not even going to dignify that utterance with a response. I'm positively thrilled to see you still breathing by the way."

"I can never tell whether he is being sarcastic or he actually likes me," Humphrey muttered.

Chapter Text

It began, as you might not expect, with a discussion about chickens.

"We should definitely get chickens," Humphrey said. Again.

"I'm not getting chickens." The Captain was being a bit of a party-pooper about all this.

"Think of all the eggs we would have."

Pat looked up from his cutting board. "Eggs?"

"See?" Humphrey pointed to him with his knife. "Pat loves eggs. So we should get chickens."

"I don't want chickens," the Captain said for about the twentieth time. He continued to carefully slice onions for their pizzas. The slices were thicker than Humphrey preferred but he wasn't going to say anything. "Who would take care of them?"

"I would. Feeding chickens can't be that hard," Humphrey insisted. "They eat pretty much anything, don't they?"

"No."

"I think they do."

"Come on, Captain," Julian drawled. His smirk did not bode well. "Don't you want a cock?"

Oh no. For a second Humphrey thought the Captain might use his knife to stab Julian in the face.

"I prefer my gardens to be cock-free actually," the Captain said slowly, still focused on his cutting.

Julian scoffed. "We all know that's not true."

None of the others reacted to that. Humphrey carefully examined Pat's wide-eyed expression. It was hard to tell whether he did or didn't know what was going on.

"Chickens disco- discar- related to dinosaur," Robin told them knowingly.

"Yes," Humphrey agreed. "Who wouldn't want dinosaurs as pets?"

Pat frowned. "There are at least six films about dinosaurs not making good pets." And great films they were.

"I think it'd be fun to get chickens," Kitty chimed in. "Can we get baby chickens, too?"

"Baby chickens are called chicks, Katherine," the Captain sighed with the exasperation of an over-tired dad. He's been spending too much time with Pat apparently.

"Baby chicks then. Can we get some?"

"I'm not getting chickens. Or chicks."

"But they are soo cute. All fluffy and yellow and ... fluffy."

"No."

Kitty pouted but the Captain was so focused on his knife work that he did not see so the gesture was ineffective.

"We's better not be getting swans," Mary said. "'Tis the devil's work."

"Don't we have swans?" Pat had his nose scrunched up in confusion. "Down by the lake?" They did. A whole army of them. Or whatever a flock of swans was called.

"Then the devil is busy," Mary sing-songed. She sounded concerningly unconcerned.

"They'll be having babies soon," the Captain piped up. "Cygnets they are called," he explained, leaning towards Kitty.

Robin's head snapped up. "We go see?" He looked ready to bolt outside right this second.

"When they're ready," the Captain told him. "It'll be another month or so before they hatch."

"Country life is so romantic." Thomas performed his typically dramatic poet-sigh. He would tragically throw himself across the table next.

Humphrey moved some knickknacks out of the way just in case.

“Eggs and chickens,” Thomas declared loudly. “What came first? The riddle haunts me. I’m ready to … burst?”

“Is egg obviously.”

Humphrey had to agree with his brother. “Dinosaurs had eggs long before chickens were a thing,” he said over Thomas’ continued monologue.

“Was it the egg? Was it the chicken? The question leaves me …”

“Grief-stricken?”

“Panic-stricken?”

“Great Britain?”

“We might just find the answer one day. Until then ... I will be wrapped in …”

“a napkin?”

“Chromatin?”

“Captain?”

“Hm? What?”

“Nooo, you cretins,” Thomas whined.

"Oh no." Kitty clapped her hands over her mouth. Her eyes had widened to the size of tennis balls.

"What?" Pat leaned over her in concern.

"I just remembered that I don't like eggs."

"Are you running a fever?" Pat asked as he set down his knife with care. Then he reached over to check the temperature of her forehead.

Kitty let it happen. "No? I don't think so."

Pat sighed. "It's just ... you said that you don't like eggs. Which is not possible.” There were some world views that were not tolerable in Pat’s books.

“But I tried an egg once and I didn’t like it.”

“Must have been prepared wrong then,” Pat insisted. “Everyone likes eggs.”

Kitty remained unconvinced.

“You don’t have to eat the eggs when we get chickens,” Humphrey told her and shushed away the Captain’s protests. “Pat will happily eat your share.” And everyone else’s too probably.

“Why does Pat get her eggs?” Julian interjected.

Robin raised his fist. “Yeah, me want Kitty’s eggs.”

And that’s when all hell broke loose. Everybody started yelling. About wanting Kitty’s eggs. About eggs in general. About getting even more chickens to satisfy everyone’s hunger for eggs. About swans and devils and all sorts of other random bits.

Just your typical Button House squabble. It went on for a while. Until-

"Fuck."

Every single person in the room fell silent and turned to stare at the Captain.

He was not one to randomly swear like that.

Humphrey stared too. First at the Captain's face and then, following the man's own gaze, at the Captain's finger. There was blood welling out of an invisible wound. A drop fell onto the cutting board the Captain had been using. Then another. Two more drops before someone finally sprung into action.

"Okay." Pat got up and hurried over to him. "Let's clea-"

"FUCK OFF!" The Captain sprung up, the legs of his chair screeching over the tiles. "Just," he mumbled, "fuck off."

Pat had stopped dead in his tracks. They all gaped.

More red blood fell onto the cutting board.

"Go please," the Captain begged, even quieter, still staring at his own hand.

"I'll help you clean it," Humphrey offered. Accident-prone as he was, he was well-trained in first aid.

"JUST GO!" The Captain turned to scream at him. "LEAVE ME ALONE!" The knife in his uninjured hand wavered.

Humphrey immediately put up his hands in a placating manner. The Captain glared at him, eyes blazing behind unshed tears.

"Please just go." A broken sob.

"Yeah. Okay," Humphrey conceded, motioning the others towards the doorway. Whatever the hell was going on made them all unusually compliant.

"Can one of us stay and help you?" Pat asked quietly, even as he moved to the door. "Just one? You can choose."

"Please leave." Another sob. "Please."

"Okay, Cap."

Humphrey and Pat were the last ones to exit the kitchen. They left the Captain to stare at a mix of blood and tears. Pat closed the door.

Then they all stood in the hallway awkwardly.

"Can we leave him alone like that?" Pat asked.

"What if he passes out?" Kitty fretted, wide-eyed, her hands gripping her skirt nervously.

"Me not going back. He still holding knife." Humphrey could not fault Robin for that. It had been a bit scary.

Julian squinted over Mary's head as if he could make anything out through the closed door. "What even was that?"

Good question.

"Maybe he dids not want us to see him cry?" Mary asked innocently. "Manly men be afraid of the tears."

"I think we are the ones who made him cry," Pat threw in contemplatively. He had a bit of a haunted look in his eyes as he turned to stare at Humphrey.

As if Humphrey had any fucking clue what the fuck was going on.

"Why are you all congregating in the hallway?" They all turned to Lady B who had suddenly appeared behind them all. "We have perfectly functioning rooms for meetings of this size."

Humphrey imagined they all stared back at her in dazed confusion. As if they had just survived a mass- casualty event.

"Well?" She waited in that pretentious way of hers for someone to provide an answer.

"The Captain..." Pat begun, pulling on his jumper anxiously. Humphrey could see Lady B's eyebrows pull together in what might be concern. "The Captain had a bit of an oopsy?"

Humphrey turned to Pat. That sounded like the man had wet his trousers. Pat shrugged helplessly.

"What on earth does that mean?" Lady B glided closer, taking in the closed kitchen door with a measured look before facing Humphrey and Pat.

"Well." Humphrey rubbed the back of his neck. "He cut himself with a knife an- in the finger. On accident. It's still attached." He rushed all that information out because Lady B was suddenly showing big emotions and it was very disconcerting. "He got embarrassed maybe?"

Lady B shooed Pat out of the way as if he was an annoying fly and then knocked on the door. "Captain?"

Humphrey could not make out a response. Going by Lady B's expression, neither could she. At least there was no yelling. Maybe the Captain had passed out? Oh shit, they should not have left him alone. Stab wounds be damned.

"Captain? I'm coming in."

"NO! FUCK OFF!"

Well, he was still alive at least.

But not for long judging by the thunderous expression on Lady B's face. Nobody was allowed to swear like that in her presence. Even the Captain. Especially the Captain.

Oh, Cap. A bloody finger was the least of your worries now.

"I will NOT be spoken to like that, young man! Open the door at once!"

"NO! Go away!" There was a screeching sound from inside the kitchen and then the door handle rattled.

Humphrey made eye contact with Pat. They both shrugged simultaneously.

Lady B huffed. "I will most certainly not!"

Pat nodded his head down the hallway. Yeah, good idea.

Lady B turned the door handle. Well. Attempted to. It would not budge.

"Come on, guys." Pat pushed himself into action and started hustling everyone away from the scene. "Let's go wait somewhere else."

"Open the door, Captain!" Lady B screeched.

Everyone reluctantly let themselves be pushed down the hallway. Curious glances were thrown over shoulders. This was awkward as hell but they all still wanted to know how it would play out.

Humphrey was guilty of it as well. He followed the group, almost walking backwards to watch Lady B continuously push against the door while ordering the Captain to open it.

The yelling faded as he arrived in the drawing room.

No one really knew what to do after that. So they waited mostly in silence for something to happen.

Now and then Kitty would speak up with ever more unlikely scenarios in which the Captain met an untimely demise. From simple blood loss to an unlikely infection with bubonic plague. Robin threw in the odd conspiracy theory. Something about the Captain being a lizard and having killed JFK.

"Lizards probably have plague," Kitty mused.

"Hang on." Humphrey decided there was nothing better to do so he might as well join the discussion. "Wasn't the plague transmitted by fleas?" He only phrased it as a question because he did not want to appear like a smartarse. But he was a historian. He knew the facts, alright?

"Maybe there were fleas on the onions?" Kitty shot back, undeterred.

"Yeah, but bubonic plague isn't really a thing anymore, is it?" Julian shot back, eyes turned to slits.

Robin grunted. "Still 1000 cases of buba-bubi- buban- of plague every year." He had the weirdest knowledge sometimes.

Kitty shot Humphrey a glare that told him 'you see?' Then her eyes widened and she clapped her hand over her mouth, mumbling "Poor Captain."

Pat suddenly perked up from where he was half-sitting, half-standing against the arm of the sofa Kitty and Robin were sitting on. "Did you know that there's a plague pit in the cellar?"

A general noise of shock reverberated off the walls.

Pat stood up and moved to take centre stage, looking at the disbelieving faces around him. "Yes. There's an old plague pit underneath Button House." He stopped for a second and shrugged. "Well, it's empty now. They took the bodies away a couple years ago."

"Are you sure that's not just a rumour?" Humphrey was sceptical. Surely, somebody would have mentioned it. Could even be part of the tour. People liked this sort of thing.

"Oh no. All true. The Captain told me all about it." Pat adjusted his glasses self-importantly. "He showed me where it was too. Not much to see really. It was covered up by floor tiles once they had taken the bodies away. Fifteen of them, I think."

"And Captain know how?" Robin had crossed his arms. Humphrey knew his brother well enough to detect the slightest hint of terror in his expression. To be fair to Robin, he did have to visit the basement regularly. The dodgy fuse box was the main attraction down there.

"He was there, Robin," Pat whispered like he was gearing up for a scary story. "Saw it all happen. The skeletons were all piled next to each other. Some of them mixed up. Still wrapped in their clothes and furs to keep them warm. A team of archaeologists came in, carried them out on stretchers. One by one."

"To take them where?" Kitty asked, squinting sceptically.

"A local museum somewhere. The Captain tried to get them to include some of the stuff in their exhibition. But they never answered any of his letters. Wouldn't that be something? We could all go and see it. Maybe the Captain can tell us more sometime. He knew quite a lot about it."

"If he survives the plague," Kitty chimed in.

"Could display him if he don't," Robin mumbled, earning a snort from Julian.

Humphrey was about to give his brother a flick on the forehead when he noticed movement in the doorway.

Lady B glided into the room and they all fell silent. "Well. Pizza Night will have to be delayed by at least an hour, I'm afraid."

Why? Had the Captain bled out after all and now they had to wait for someone to come and pick up his body?

Lady B tutted over the general noise of disappointment. "Yes. The Captain has deemed the kitchen inaccessible for the moment. He is, however, amenable to paying for takeaway if you're unwilling to wait." This was probably the first time ever that the word takeaway had graced Lady B’s lips.

There were some cheers but Humphrey frowned. "He doesn't have to do that. It was an accident. And it's not that late. We can still pull Pizza Night off."

"The doughs cans rise a whiles longer," Mary said, nodding her head.

The others mumbled their agreement. Most of them looked embarrassed to have even considered ditching Pizza Night entirely. Except Julian obviously.

"Is the Captain joining us soon?" Pat wondered, glancing in the direction of the kitchen.

Yes, what was that silly man doing?

Lady B sighed. "He said he required more time.”

Doing what?

Humphrey’s gaze met Pat’s and they both shrugged.

Pat managed to get a game of charades going to keep everyone entertained as they waited. While the others squabbled over who would get the first turn, Humphrey sneaked out of the room, hoping that none of them would see and try to follow. As he crept down the corridor, he told himself that he and Pat were just that in sync that, without actually communicating, Pat had created a distraction for the others to give Humphrey the means to escape and find out what the Captain was doing. But that was all just wishful thinking probably.

The door to the kitchen was still firmly shut, so Humphrey knocked.

There was a noise, then nothing. Just as he was resigning himself to a futile mission, the door opened a crack and the Captain's face appeared in the opening.

"You alright, mate?" Humphrey asked.

The Captain's gaze slipped to the left for a brief moment before returning vaguely to the vicinity of Humphrey's face. "Yes." He cleared his throat. "Thank you."

To Humphrey's surprise, the door opened further. He was hit with the biting stench of bleach, despite the open window he could see over the other man’s shoulder. Then he spotted the Captain's heavily bandaged hand. The wound had not bled enough to justify this excessive amount of wrapping, Humphrey thought. One of Pat's larger dinosaur plasters should have been able to do the job. Immediately he chided himself silently. He had not seen the wound. Maybe the Captain had been hurt more than he had let on. The man was standing upright at least and did not look all that pale as he fidgeted under Humphrey's scrutiny. There was probably nothing life-threatening going on under all those bandages. Hopefully.

"All fingers still attached?" Humphrey asked half-jokingly.

"Oh." The Captain followed his gaze. "I think so?" He shrugged sheepishly. "I-I did not actually count to make sure."

Humphrey snorted. "Well, you better come out and tell Kitty that you're not going to die tonight."

"What?" The Captain's eyebrows drew together. "There was never any danger of that happening," he mumbled, dipping his head down and backing away. There was enough blood left in him to make his ears turn red.

"She was a bit worried," Humphrey told him as he finally crossed the threshold and entered the room. "We all were." He closed the door to keep out any eavesdroppers. The risk of bleach poisoning was higher this way but the Captain might be more inclined to explain what the fuck had happened if he knew it was just the two of them.

The Captain's shoulders rose up to his ears. "Apologies."

Humphrey watched him finish wiping down the table with a wet paper towel. "For what? Accidentally cutting yourself?"

"Yes. And-" The Captain took a sharp breath. "And the yelling. And the ..." He trailed off and rubbed his eyes with his good hand.

Humphrey took a tentative step towards him. "Cap?" He waited for the Captain to look at him. But the stubborn mule wouldn't. "Can you look at me please?"

Reluctantly the Captain lifted his gaze and looked at Humphrey from under his furrowed eyebrows.

"Don't apologise for that. For any of it. Okay?"

"But I-"

"No, it's fine. You were hurt. You are allowed to have feelings about it."

"Yeah," the Captain said slowly. "Sorry."

"But maybe next time you could let one of us help you?"

The Captain made a strangling sound. Okay, not there yet. Humphrey decided to drop it. For now.

"I'm just glad you're okay," he said instead.

The Captain nodded. That was something at least. Maybe Humphrey could push him a bit further.

"Would you like a hug?" Because the bloke looked like he needed one.

But the Captain made a wounded noise and shrunk back immediately. Too soon then.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Humphrey reassured him. "Maybe another day, yeah?"

"Yes, maybe." The Captain would no longer meet Humphrey's gaze.

"Do you need more time or should we reassure Kitty of your continued existence?"

"Maybe we can ..." The Captain sniffed the air. "I think we need to leave the windows open for a while longer."

Yeah, they might die of toxic fume inhalation if they stayed in here. Humphrey wondered what the man had done in here to explain the swimming pool atmosphere.

"The others are playing charades," Humphrey said. "We could go join them."

The pained noise the Captain made told Humphrey that that was the last thing he wanted to do right now. No surprise there really. And an understandable reaction. Humphrey could definitely hear raised voices in the distance.

"Or we could sneak outside?" He suggested. "Get some fresh air?"

"That's probably a good idea actually." The Captain coughed for emphasis.

The church hall had suffered water damage during the first summer storm.

That in itself wasn't something Pat would usually concern himself with. He wasn't in any way involved in the local parish. However, Lady Button had volunteered Button House as a temporary event location. And what events they had. Pat had had no idea how exciting church life could be.

There were art classes and dancing and yoga and various group meetings.

"Look, they even have Zumba," he exclaimed excitedly and pointed at the timetable somebody had tagged to the doorframe of the ballroom. That's where the majority of the classes would be taking place.

"What Zumba?" Robin asked from beside him.

Humphrey, Kitty and the Captain were hovering over their shoulders to get a glimpse at the schedule as well.

"Very intense dancing," Pat explained. "Looks like immense fun but makes me sweat just thinking about it." He pulled on the collar of his polo shirt.

"Me go try," Robin announced and then wandered out of their little bubble. To get back to his duties, presumably.

The residents of Button House had been explicitly invited to join any meetings and groups they would like to try out. The Captain had immediately declared that he wouldn't, thank you very much. He was here now though, humming at the timetable. He put on a more suspicious squint when he caught Pat looking his way.

"Oh, there's a knitting group," Kitty exclaimed. "I've always wanted to learn. Captain, come to the knitting group with me?"

The Captain needed a second to compute her request. His shoulders twitched. "No, I'm definitely busy then," he declared without even bothering to pretend to consult the schedule.

"Oh, please, please, please?" Kitty looked up at him with her large brown eyes.

The Captain was doing his best to avoid her gaze. "Maybe Humphrey wants to go?" He asked weakly.

Humphrey's elbow moved back to shove its way through the Captain's intestines but the Captain had stepped out of firing range before it could meet its intended target.

"You two could go to the bird-watching club as well." Humphrey tapped his finger on the laminated paper, a calculating glint in his grey eyes.

"Bird watching club?" Pat leaned closer to inspect the timetable again while the Captain stuttered his way through another weak excuse. "That sounds like massive fu- oh no, I'll be busy with the Cubs." That was disappointing, that was. Maybe he and the kids could have their own bird watching club. Or they could all join the church group?

"Please, please, please?" Kitty was still working her persuasive magic.

And the Captain was crumbling. He had put on that pinched look that made him look severely constipated. "I have got to weed some flower beds," he ground out and backed away. "Fanny will have my head if I don't ... yes. Goodbye."

He clattered down the staircase with Kitty still shouting after him. "Please, please, pleeeeeaaassseeeeee?"

"Should we get Julian to go to this one?" Humphrey asked over her shouting and pointed to a spot on the schedule.

"Addiction support group," Pat read out. "What, like AA?"

"Doesn't seem to be specific to alcohol." Humphrey shrugged. "Which is perfect for Julian. He's like addicted to everything."

Some habits were indeed concerning, Pat had to concede.

He studied the timetable again. So many things to potentially try. Maybe Pat could join Robin for the Zumba class.

Perhaps it wasn't too bad that the church hall roof had been blown away in the storm. This had the potential to be fun actually.

A few days later, Pat was making his way through the East Wing to prepare one of the meeting rooms for a group of school children. They'd be having an arts-and-crafts session this afternoon. He could hear voices coming from one of the other rooms, so he poked his head in to see what was going on.

A number of elderly ladies were sat around a table, happily chatting, a cup of steaming tea in front of each of them and knitting needles clicking away in their hands. Church group then.

"Hello Pat!"

Kitty waved from where she was sitting at the far end of the table. Her project, whatever it was, was hot pink. Naturally.

And sitting next to her, leaning away from her, so she wouldn't stab him with one of her knitting needles, was the Captain. He blended in so well with his greying hair that Pat hadn't spotted him until now.

Pat snorted and stepped into the room. The ladies all greeted him warmly.

"That's a yes to the knitting group then?" Pat asked teasingly when he reached Kitty and the Captain.

The Captain grumbled. "Go away, we're busy."

"I can see that." Pat inspected the wool in the Captain's hand. It was light blue and the stitches looked a bit wobbly. But good for him for trying. "What are you knitting?"

"Scarf," the Captain snapped. "To strangle you with." This man had an odd tendency to deal out death threats willy-nilly.

"Okay." Pat put up his hands. "I can sense you are feeling a bit threatened in your masculinity."

"I'm not actually." The Captain's forehead furrowed in concentration as he completed another stitch.

"Sure. I'll leave you to it." Pat stepped to the side to peer over Kitty's shoulder.

Her project looked even wobblier and entirely misshapen. She made up for it with her enthusiasm.

"I'm knitting a jumper," she told him, holding it up for Pat to inspect. How or why anyone would choose to wear something like this, Pat could not say. But with what he knew about today's fashion, it might be totally in-style.

"Ruby ordered us to start with a scarf," the Captain griped from the side as he continued knitting.

"Yes, but I'd rather have a jumper," Kitty told him, daring to roll her eyes. "Or socks." She looked at her project. "Actually, I want socks." She restarted her efforts.

The Captain sighed a sigh of the long-suffering.

"Sounds like you two are having massive fun," Pat said carefully, keeping the Captain in his field of vision as he backed away to make sure the man would not use his knitting needles for something other than their intended purpose. "I'll see you later, yeah? Can't wait to see your finished products."

If Pat was lucky, one of them would stick with the hobby and pick up enough skills that he had a chance of ending up with a nice woolly hat. Or indeed a scarf. Knitted with love.

An eldery lady approached him on his way out. "Would you like to join us?" The name tag on her blouse declared her to be the aforementioned Ruby.

"Oh, can't, I'm afraid," he told her. "Got a craft session for the kids to prepare." He tried to slink past her.

"Oh, that's a shame," she said and sounded sincere about it. "Maybe next time? We have biscuits." Ruby pointed to a table in the corner that held entirely too many snacks for such a small group of people. With that kind of buffet, Pat knew a certain someone would definitely be coming back again.

Pat was on his way to get a snack. Or maybe a proper meal. Zumba was indeed massive fun. But also hunger-inducing. He stopped when he heard voices in the kitchen.

"You be's doing a good job."

He strained his ears.

"Am I though? I mean, look at this." The Captain sounded heartbreakingly dejected.

Pat slunk closer, so he could better listen in on whatever was happening.

"Getting better, Captain," Mary sing-songed. "Little beggers them eggs."

A barely intelligible grunt. "Can I do another?"

"We needs loads more for the cakes."

"Will there be carrot cake tomorrow?"

"The gardens be providings us with many carrots, so yes."

"With the little marzipan carrots on top?" A crack. "Oh, blast."

"You's watch the sugars, Captain." Mary hummed. "But yes, marzipan carrots."

"Save me a slice?"

"O' course. Now get them eggshells out."

"Da, can I go outside?" Daley asked. He had been here for all about five seconds. Carol probably hadn't even left the estate yet.

Pat dropped Daley's backpack onto the couch and joined him at the window. "What's outside then?"

It took him a hot minute to see what had captured his son’s attention. The object of Daley’s obsession remained hidden but he saw Dante speeding across the lawn, chasing after a stick which meant that the Captain was not far behind.

"I'm gonna go say hi," Daley announced and bounced out of the room before Pat had a chance to give him permission to do so.

Better warn the poor man. Pat managed to slide the window open just in time for the Captain to actually enter the stage down on the lawn.

"Oi, Cap! Captain!"

The Captain stopped, looked every which way to find the source of the shouting.

"Up here, Cap! Window!" Pat waved to make himself more visible. "Here!"

The Captain finally saw him and gave an adorable little wave back.

"Daley's coming down to see you!" Pat shouted.

"What?"

"DALEY IS COMING!"

"WHAT?"

"DALE-" Pat literally choked on his own words. He coughed.

God, this was not the way to go. Also, he risked falling out of the window if he leaned out any further. Then Pat remembered that, since he had just finished work, he was still carrying his walkie-talkie. He pulled it out and pressed the button to talk.

"Captain, channel 4." No need for everyone else to listen in on this. Pat switched channels.

The Captain was faster. "Patrick, why are you shouting? Are you in distress? Over."

"Just wanted to let you know that Daley's on his way to see you."

"Oh, thank goodness. I thought the building was on fire or something. Over." The Captain had made no indication of having thought that, calmly standing on the lawn like that.

"No, just Daley coming to say hi."

"Alright. Over."

"I'll be down in a bit."

"Take your time, Patrick. Over."

"Thanks, mate."

Pat waited for Daley to run onto the scene and fling himself at the Captain before he turned away from the window to unpack Daley's overnight bag and change out of his work clothes. By the time he made it downstairs, neither Daley nor the Captain were in the location he had last seen them in.

After a bit of searching, he found them in a completely different part of the garden, riding the lawn mower together. Daley was perched on the Captain's knee, the protective headphones the Captain usually wore during these activities made Daley's head appear even larger than usual. He seemed on the verge of pitching forward if not for the Captain's arm securely wrapped around Daley's waist. Despite the distance, Pat could clearly make out their matching expressions of deep concentration.

Looked like they'd be going at it for a while. Pat might as well get started on dinner.

"And you are sure this will work?"

"Of course it will work. Who do you take me for, Captain?"

"A morally bankrupt layabout."

"That's exactly why it will work. But also, ouch."

"You know it's true."

Pat finally stepped around the doorway to reveal himself. "Should I be worried about whatever you're plotting?"

Julian and the Captain looked up from their game of chess. Pat had never seen them play chess together before. It was usually Julian and Robin who occupied the chess board. And Pat had never witnessed Julian win a single game. Either Robin was some kind of prodigy or Julian was just really bad at chess. Judging by the number of black chess pieces the Captain had lined up in a neat row next to the board, it was the latter.

"Well?" Pat put his hands on his hips for good measure.

The Captain blatantly ignored him and moved his bishop across the board.

"Hang on," Julian protested immediately. "That’s not- that's-"

"Checkmate," the Captain said before standing up and straightening his fleece jacket.

"Nooo, Pat distracted me. Rematch!"

The Captain rolled his shoulders. "Unlike you, I actually have a job, you know."

"Baa, she's your sister. She wouldn't fire you for not pruning her flowers for a day." Julian chuckled as if he had said something funny. "Besides, this is a business meeting."

Pat felt very overlooked. "What business?"

"Film night tonight, right Patrick?" The Captain asked as he walked over. "What are we watching again?"

Pat narrowed his eyes. "Kitty asked for Grease."

"Is that the one with all the dancing?"

"There will be dancing, yes. And singing."

"Sounds like bally good fun," the Captain deadpanned. He steered around Pat and out of the front door.

Pat turned to a whistling Julian and told him with a hand gesture that the man should consider himself watched. He would find out what these two were plotting.

"What on earth are you doing?"

The heads of Robin and the Captain shot up.

"Nuffin'," the former said in the way those being caught red-handed always did. He was slow in hiding the wrench he was holding behind his back. He was also looking mighty shifty.

Pat studied him carefully for a moment, then turned to the Captain, the more responsible, if not more trustworthy, of the two.

The Captain became rigid under the scrutiny. "What does it look like we are doing, Patrick?"

Pat wiggled his glasses up and down. "It looks like," and he nodded to the object in question, "you're repairing the fountain."

"That is indeed what we are doing," the Captain snapped back.

"Right." Pat nodded, then glanced from the Captain to Robin, who glared back with defiance. "You're repairing the fountain," he repeated slowly, prepared to be corrected because what he was seeing and hearing did not make much sense. "Together."

Was the world ending or something? No topic was as hotly debated in staff meetings as that fountain was. So much so that he had quickly learned to tune out once the Captain got going on his favourite topic of discussion. Robin could be trusted to antagonise him about the blasted thing every single time.

"Is not 'gainst law," Robin informed Pat now.

Which wasn't at all what Pat had been implying with his reaction at seeing the two of them bent over the fountain on this gloomy afternoon. It had been more an outcry of surprise.

"Quite right, Robin," the Captain agreed. "Hand me the wrench." He held his hand out, maintaining a wary glance in Pat's general direction. Maybe the church meetings and the resulting presence of people with faith in a higher power had stirred something in these two that they finally got along well enough to gang up on Pat.

Robin recoiled from the Captain's outstretched hand. "No, is my turn."

"It is not your turn," the Captain hissed back. "Now, give it here."

"No, is mine."

"Robin."

"Captain."

"Yeah." Pat nodded to himself. "That's what I thought." The illusion had been nice while it lasted anyway.

"Are you sure it's alright? I can find an alternative location." Pat wrung his hands nervously.

"Nonsense, Patrick," Lady Button reassured him in that snippy way of hers. "We are always happy to host the Cub Scouts."

Pat had just stammered his way through a request to host the Cub Scout summer camp activities at Button House. Their weekly meetings took place here so it would make sense. The children and parents were already familiar with the estate. He had a few fun activities planned for the first weekend of the summer holidays before everyone went off to Cornwall and Spain and wherever else people holidayed these days.

"Thank you’s, Lady B. Very kind of ya."

Lady Button visibly shrunk away from his Yorkshire drawl and nodded stiffly.

Before Pat could thank her again, they came across Button House's most unwelcome of guests.

Thankfully, Barclay appeared to be on his way out. He was leading a tottering lady towards the front door. For once, he wasn't wearing his smug grin but a rather disgruntled expression. Julian and the Captain had followed the guests into the foyer from the drawing room.

"So lovely for you to come by," Julian said in an overly friendly way as he held the door open for them. Suspicious.

"We could do this again sometime." The Captain was smiling. Which was just plain weird.

Barclay turned away and pulled the woman, who Pat had to presume was his wife, out of the door.

"Bye Bunny," the Captain called after them, waving. "Let me know about those petunias."

They watched Barclay and Bunny stagger to their car. Bunny loudly insisted on driving which, by the way she was swaying in the non-existent breeze, was probably not a good idea. Pat was to be proven right when one of the back tires hit the curb of the fountain on their way out.

"Just fixed that one," the Captain grumbled. He had dropped his cheerful expression.

The SUV barely cleared the gate with intact side mirrors.

"What on earth is going on?" Lady Button asked as the Beg-Chetwyndes disappeared into the distance, tires screaming.

Julian pulled on the tie he was wearing. "Sorted out your little issue for you." He said it as if he meant to wave her off and get on with things. However, he very much failed to hide his eagerness to elaborate and bathe in the glory of his actions. Whatever they were.

"What issue?" Pat asked. He remembered Barclay's last visit. He had never found out what the confrontation in Lady Button's office had been about.

"He'll be posting the papers with the access rights tomorrow at the latest," Julian continued.

Access rights? To what?

"Really?" Lady Button's entire face lifted upward with surprise. Pat resigned himself to be left in the dark forever.

Julian nodded. "Oh, he was very eager to sign over the rights. Gratis by the way."

Lady Button narrowed her eyes at him. "What did you do? Nothing illegal I hope." A justified suspicion, Pat thought.

"Noooo, of course not," Julian said, placing his hand on his chest in a 'who, me?' gesture. The Captain rolled his eyes.

"We just invited him over for afternoon tea. Good old Barclay." Julian chuckled. "And we couldn't leave Bunny out of it, could we?"

The Captain nodded. "Indeed."

"We may have had a sneaky glass of wine." Julian shrugged as if that had happened purely by accident.

"And then what?" Lady Button did not seem interested in the beverages served at this weird neighbourly tea party.

The Captain spoke up. "We, ahem, asked him whether we could, um, do a bank transfer. For the access rights."

Lady Button reeled back. "What? I haven't-"

"And whether we should send the money to his current bank account or the one in," the Captain turned to Julian, "Fiji?"

"Fiji," Julian confirmed with a nod.

"Fiji," the Captain repeated.

"Fiji?" Pat asked. The word was starting to sound weird.

"Tax reasons," Julian explained. "Well, tax evasion really. Quite a common practice. Fiji isn’t the first choice for most but … to each their own."

"Oh." Maybe, as a former employee at a bank, Pat should know more about this than he actually did.

Julian grinned. "Turns out, and how could we have known, that his wife didn't know about the Fiji account. Whoops."

"Whoopsie," the Captain agreed.

"And all of a sudden he was eager to collaborate. Promised to sort out the documents right away."

The Captain shook his head mournfully. "Didn't even finish his cake."

Lady Button still looked sceptical. "Are you certain?"

"Yes. Quite a shame really. It's Mary's strawberry spon-"

"I don't care about the cake," Lady Button hissed. "Are you certain that he will sign over the rights?"

"Oh, he will." Julian shrugged nonchalantly.

"Sounds a bit like extortion, mate," Pat cut in.

"Well. He won't tell anyone, will he?" Julian played with his tie again. "Unless he wants his ... tax fraud to come out." He snorted.

Lady Button took a deep breath. "I will believe it when I see it."

Julian chuckled. "Oh, you will see it. And then believe it. No need to thank me by the way, Lady B. I'm always happy to help." The last part he said with an exaggerated head tilt in the Captain's direction. The other man leaned away from him. Julian snorted and turned to saunter back into the drawing room. "All part of the service," he called over his shoulder.

Pat did not believe for one second that Julian had done this out of the goodness of his heart.

Lady B huffed and she walked off in the opposite direction, even though that was the way she had originally come from.

Which left Pat and the Captain hovering in the entrance hall alone.

Pat considered the other man carefully. "Never thought I'd see you team up with Julian of all people."

The Captain threw back his head dramatically. "The experience was one not to be repeated ever again. Every single second was agonising."

"You did it to help your sister though. That's sweet of you." Also quite possibly illegal. But sweet nonetheless.

With the way the Captain's face scrunched up, this was not a compliment he appreciated.

"Hiya, mate."

The Captain's heels clicked together. "Patrick."

"What are you doing?" Pat had seen the Captain hovering near the closed door to the ballroom and come over to investigate.

"I am waiting for the meeting to finish."

Pat narrowed his eyes. "Are you eavesdropping? It's supposed to be a safe space in there." Without consulting the posted timetable, he knew that the trauma recovery group was in the middle of a session. It was literally called 'Safe Space'.

"No, Patrick." The Captain flexed his fingers. "I'm waiting for the group to finish. Fanny ordered me to clear up the chairs afterwards."

"It'll be another half hour according to the schedule," Pat pointed out. The Captain tended to be early for his appointments but this was suspiciously early. "You know," Pat began, carefully setting the tone to be soothing and supportive. "If there was something you wanted to share, you could go in. It's anonymous. You don't have to say your name or anything." Not that the Captain seemed to have a name.

The Captain, as expected, went on the defensive immediately. "Why would I have something to share with anyone?" He rolled his shoulders as if he was preparing for a physical confrontation.

You seem to have a lot of issues, mate, Pat thought quietly. Saying anything to anyone might help. He did not dare voice any of this out loud.

He shrugged instead. "'T was just an idea."

"Oh, hi lads." Humphrey appeared behind them, making them both jump. "You thinking of joining? I was gonna give it a go maybe."

"Oh yeah?" Pat turned to him.

"Yeah, been having some thoughts lately."

Apparently his ex-wife Sophie was getting married this summer. It had thrown Humphrey into a bit of a funk when he'd found out. Pat could thoroughly sympathise.

"Very brave of you," he praised, seeing his chance.

The Captain scoffed. "What's so brave about talking?"

"It's not always easy to speak about your inner thoughts and feelings," Pat told him.

"Makes you feel better though, doesn't it?" Humphrey asked, eyeing the Captain up carefully. "To share a burden with your friends? Or anyone?"

"No."

"Oh." Humphrey laid his head to one side. "I got the impression that yo-"

"Wrong impression," the Captain grumbled, turned on his heel and pounded down the stairs.

Exactly a week later, Pat spotted the Captain once again lurking outside the ballroom. He did not walk up to him this time, just gave him a friendly nod when he reached the landing at the top of the main staircase and then continued on his way to his room.

By the time Pat had changed out of his work clothes, the church group had dispersed and he could hear voices from the ballroom through the open doorway. He took a quick peek inside and found Humphrey sitting in one of the colourful plastic chairs the people from the church had lugged over to Button House for the duration of the roof repairs. Not like Button House had a lack of chairs but apparently the church people had insisted on bringing along their own furniture.

The furniture that the Captain was now in the process of stacking on top of each other.

"Hi Pat," Humphrey greeted him.

"Hiya guys." Pat walked into the room.

The Captain looked up from his work but did not say anything.

"Was just telling the Captain about the trauma group," Humphrey said. "Gave it a go this week."

"Oh." Pat took a seat next to him. "Well done, mate. How was it?"

"Quite lovely actually. Just sat and listened. Nobody forced me to say anything. Bu-"

"I thought you weren't supposed to talk about what happens in the meeting," the Captain interrupted. He had paused his chair-stacking to glower at them in his usual fashion.

"You're not supposed to talk about the stories you hear," Humphrey said, awfully gentle. "I'm allowed to talk about the general stuff. Maybe Pat wants to join. He'll want to know how it works."

Pat knew what Humphrey was doing. The Captain probably knew what Humphrey was doing. Might still work though.

The Captain shook his head and carried some chairs out of the room.

"Oh, what are you doing?" Kitty appeared in the doorway, wearing a bright pink jumpsuit. "This looks fun."

Just two blokes sitting on chairs but okay? Kitty sat down on Humphrey's other side.

She giggled. "Hello, I'm Kitty and I'm addicted to unicorns and glitter."

Pat glanced at Humphrey and they both shrugged. "Hi Kitty," they chorused obligingly.

"We're doing this then, are we?" Julian slunk into their midst, followed by a wide-eyed Robin. Yes, apparently they were doing this.

Just as they had sat down, the Captain stomped back into the room and immediately began spluttering. "What are you doing? I'm supposed to be clearing these away. You can't- no, Thomas. Don't."

Thomas blatantly ignored him and planted himself into the chair next to Robin, swinging one skinny stick-leg over the other.

"No. What? What on earth? No. Mary, no."

"I's be joining, Captain. Thank you's."

"Can't you go sit somewhere else? The drawing room? Kitchen? Anywhere? Fanny will-"

"Fanny will what?"

The Captain whirled around to find Lady Button standing directly behind him, eyebrows drawn together as they were wont to do. Dante trotted around the room to sniff everyone's shoes.

"These hooligans have occupied the chairs. I can't store them away."

Lady Button hummed judgementally and walked over to their little circle. "What is the meaning of this?" She asked, folding her arms over her midsection.

"Oh, we were just doing a little group meeting," Pat explained when all the others looked to him to step forward. "Like the church does."

"I'm addicted to glitter and unicorns," Kitty supplied helpfully. "And rainbows."

"Booze for me," Julian said. "And se- other things."

"Hm." Lady Button made sure to take a step away from him. "I'm not sure why you think this kind of talk is at all helpful but perhaps you can move your meeting somewhere else. There is an art class in half an hour and they'll be needing the space."

"Oh, we won't be long," Pat reassured her. "We'll help clean up the chairs after. Maybe you want to join us?" He pointed at one of the remaining empty seats. "Talk about how you're feeling today?

"I think not," she scoffed. "Whyever would you think that I would want to talk about my emotions? They get dealt with without me having to consult anyone about them."

"But maybe there's something you want to discuss?" Pat pressed on, fully aware that this could blow up any second. Humphrey gave him an encouraging nod when he glanced over. "Could be about anything?"

"No, thank you, Patrick." Lady Button sniffed, head held high.

"You're right, Fanny." The Captain walked over and stood next to his sister. "You must take those emotions and bury them. Never let them out."

"Quite right."

"Yeah, um." Pat made a movement with his hands that he himself could not attach meaning to. "That is definitely something we should talk about." He leaned forward and adopted a pose that was supposed to be inviting and attentive.

"No," the Captain and Lady Button said simultaneously.

Yeah, maybe a professional should handle that one actually, Pat conceded and leaned back. Their parents had a lot to answer for.

"Maybe someone else would like to share something?" Pat asked, trying to sound cheerful. But nobody fell for it, they all looked expectantly back at him instead.

Fine. Patrick raked his brain for anything to ease them into it. Probably shouldn't start with the Carol-Maurice-disaster right away. "Okay, um, I don't know if you know this but ... I'm a thief."

Some of the others leaned forward, interest peaked. Bloody gossips.

"Aren't we all?" Julian asked, sounding confused.

Robin grunted. "What you steal?"

Here it comes. "I once stole a keyring from the gift shop at the Amberley Chalk Pits."

The others gasped as if he had just admitted to committing genocide.

"Goodness gracious," Lady Button gasped. She looked ready to fire him on the spot.

Mary made the sign of the cross and scooted her chair back to put distance between Pat and herself, muttering about the devil.

"That's it?" Julian scoffed. He leaned back in his chair and stretched out his long legs.

"Yeah," Humphrey said slowly. "We all did stuff like that when we were kids."

Some of the others, foremost Lady Button and Mary, protested immediately.

Pat said nothing. He had been a bit too old to have been called a kid when that particular incident had taken place. Daley had been about three. And Pat a father. Supposedly a role model. To his defence, the theft had happened entirely by accident. They would have been late for parents' pick-up. He still had the keyring of course. It looked grand where it sat between his keyrings from the Wensleydale Creamery and Huddersfield Town.

"Well, I would have never had you down for a thief," Lady Button said as she gracefully sat down in the chair next to Mary.

The Captain grunted his agreement and shook his head. He lowered himself into the last remaining seat between his sister and Pat.

"You are one to talk," Lady Button chided him before he'd had the chance to get comfortable. "How many times did your school call home? At least once a week if I remember correctly."

The Captain's eyes widened. "No, that's not- I don't-" He broke off with a frustrated whine.

"Uuh, were you a bit of a bad boy back in the day, Captain?" Julian's eyebrows wriggled up and down as he grinned. "Do tell."

"No," the Captain protested immediately, arms folded over his chest. He had abandoned his straight posture and was now curled in on himself. Like a naughty toddler receiving a telling-off.

"Oh, go on," Julian insisted. "Give us a story."

Yes, they would all like a story. Pat could tell by how everyone was leaning forward in anticipation. He himself had only heard that one story of how a teenaged Captain almost set a house on fire once because he was shooting flaming arrows at the bonfires. He had almost forgotten that the Captain had told him that. It got pushed to the back of one's mind when one was being confronted with the Captain's neurotic obsession with rules and instructions on a daily basis.

"No."

"I'll tell them then." Julian's smirk intensified.

"Don't you dare, Fawcett."

“So many to choose from. Hmm.”

“There really aren’t.”

"Oh, come on. You were always on the verge of being expelled."

"Hang on," Pat interrupted, pointing at the two men in turn. "How long have you two known each other?"

"Oh, ages," Julian chuckled. "We were bunk mates at boarding school."

Oh. Wow. Internally, Pat rubbed his hands. This had potential. They could have all the stories. With the Captain's consent of course. Which, at this point, did not look likely to be given any time soon. Shame.

"I got away with all sorts of things because the house master was usually busy dealing with that one." Julian pointed at the Captain.

Who glowered back with so much ire that Pat was certain Julian was about to self-combust. He better sleep with one eye open tonight.

"Another troubled youth I see," Thomas sighed. "Abandoned by one's parents to grow up without the loving environment of home. To constantly be taunted by peers and...

"Did you go to boarding school as well, Tom?" Pat asked carefully.

"Oh no." Thomas waved him off. "But believe me. Having your mother hover around you all day long. That is a true burden. She did not seem to have a life of her own. How was I supposed to compose when I was constantly being interrupted? She kept bringing me snacks in the afternoons, apple slices and peppermint tea and she would bake little cakes that I would then be forced to eat with her in the garden. And she insisted on reading me a bedtime story every evening even when I was old enough to do so by myself. Her character voices were terrible."

A small sound made Pat glance over to the Captain as Thomas rambled on. He could not read the man's expression but for a second he thought he saw Lady Button's hand twitch. As if she had meant to reach out and pat the Captain's arm. She aborted the motion before anything could come of it.

"... came to all my recitals and plays. The pressure of it." Thomas put a dramatic hand on his forehead. "But she had no real appreciation for my work. Hung it up in frames about the house as though it were mere decoration."

"My mum had face bitten off by wolf in front of me," Robin announced out of nowhere.

They all turned to him. That had never come up before.

Pat happened to glance at Humphrey then and he appeared just as surprised by the information as everyone else.

"What are you talking about?" Humphrey asked, eyes narrowed. "Mum is still alive. And she still has her face."

"Is what I saw," Robin defended, arms crossed over his chest.

Humphrey made a sound. "Are you talking about that one time we got attacked by the dog from down the street? That was a Chihuahua or something. Smaller than Dante."

The dog looked up at the mention of his name. He had made himself at home on the Captain's shoes and the Captain was in the process of sneaking him a treat from his pocket. Lady Button shook her head disapprovingly.

"Big dog when you are small kid," Robin said.

"How-" Pat had to put out a pacifying hand in Humphrey's direction to stop his irritated sighing. "How old were you when this happened, Robin?"

"Tw-"

"Just two? Oh, that must have been horrible."

"No, was gonna say twenty."

"Oh. Yeah." Pat pushed up his glasses. "That must have been traumatic. But your mum's alright I hear?" He glanced at Humphrey.

Who nodded. "She's fine and dandy. Living in Cornwall now."

"Oh, nice." Pat loved pasties.

"Yeah, we go visit next week."

Oh, that's right. Humphrey and Robin would both be on holiday next week. Lovely of them to go and see their mum together.

"That's lovely, innit?" Pat turned to the group at large.

"I wish I could go and visit my mother," Kitty spoke up.

"Oh, does she live far away?," Pat asked. Kitty had mentioned a sketchy sister a few times and a father once. Never a mother.

"No, she's dead."

"Oh." Pat shifted in his seat. He'd put his foot in, hadn't he? "I'm sorry to hear that."

Kitty did not look perturbed though. She was still smiling, as she always was. "She wasn't my real mother anyway. Only Eleanor was Mother's real daughter. That's what my sister always says."

"Okay?" Pat looked at the others to silently beg for help.

Humphrey was making a cutting motion with his hand at his neck. As if Pat didn't know that a subject change was in order. The others weren't much help either. They were all avoiding his gaze, eyes locked either on the ceiling or the hardwood floor. Little traitors.

Suddenly the Captain jerked out of whatever stupor he had spent the last few minutes in.

"Actually," he spoke up a tad too loudly in the otherwise silent room. "Perhaps ... perhaps there is something I'd like to share. Um."

"Yeah, go on, Cap." Pat nodded in a way that he hoped conveyed encouragement.

Lady Button did the exact opposite. She leaned backwards in her chair, hands braced in her lap as if the words about to be uttered could physically harm her. The Captain was too occupied with staring at the floor at his feet to notice.

"I-I'm," he stuttered, then stopped. He glared at Humphrey who was cheering him on with two thumbs up and a too-wide grin.

"I'm ...," the Captain started again. He cleared his throat as his gaze flitted from one person to the next like an erratic bird jumping from branch to branch. His shoulder visibly slumped when he reached Lady Button and Pat thought they would not hear the rest of the sentence today. Or ever.

But the Captain continued, fingers fidgeting with the fabric of his trousers. "I ... um ... I'm ..." His eyes widened. "I'm ... gay?"

His voice had risen in pitch towards the end, so it sounded more like a question than a statement. As though he wasn't actually sure of the fact.

Poor love.

Not because the Captain was gay, of course. But because he had not been able to come out with as much conviction as this significant part of his identity deserved. The Captain cleared his throat into the silence that followed.

Oh, nobody had said anything yet. Pat was about to voice his congratulations but Julian beat him to it.

"That's it?"

Whoa, that's definitely not an appropriate response to someone's coming out. Pat tried to give Julian his most scathing look.

"I mean, good for you," Julian said slowly when he caught Pat glaring daggers at him, "but we all knew that, didn't we?"

To Pat's surprise, the others all nodded.

What? What had he missed?

Even Humphrey moved his head up and down. He stopped abruptly and looked horrified. On the Captain's behalf probably. He met Pat's gaze and shrugged uncomfortably.

"I didn't," Pat said to save whatever was left to save. He turned to the Captain. "I'm happy for you, mate."

"Are you serious?" Julian chortled. "You didn't know?"

"Damn your eyes, you are blind." Thomas shook his head.

"That was a very brave thing to do," Pat continued, undeterred. He would have given the Captain a pat on the shoulder but that might have been perceived as patronising. And the Captain did not like being touched anyway. Or Pat might have even given him a hug.

Mary hummed. "It be clear as day. When's the man with the metal cows came by's."

"And the roof repair men last year," Kitty added, lifting her hand to stifle her giggle.

"And red man," Robin chimed in.

"Oh yes, the replacement postman."

"Oh, I remembers."

Pat tried to keep his smile unstrained but it was difficult with all that chatter in the background.

"Thank you for telling us- me." He had to raise his voice to be heard at all at this point.

"Pat need glasses checked."

Pat wanted to be offended by Robin's remark and the resulting giggles. But his feelings were not his first concern right now. So he ignored them for the moment. Instead he scooted his chair closer to the Captain's.

"Proud of you, mate," he whispered.

The Captain hummed. His fingers were curled into the fabric of his beige trousers. Pat wanted to stand up and yell at the others for being so inconsiderate. But that, he suspected, would have embarrassed the Captain even further.

"See?" Humphrey hobbled over to them. He had not bothered to get out of his chair and just pulled it along to plonk it right in front of the Captain to create their own little circle. "Told you they wouldn't mind."

Pat threw him an expression of pure disbelief.

"They don't care," Humphrey explained. "They are more obsessed with the fact that you're as blind as a bat."

"Humphrey," Pat hissed, glancing at the Captain.

"What? You are if you didn't see how this one mooned over A-" Humphrey cut himself off and clamped his mouth shut.

"Yes," the Captain spoke up, addressing the ceiling. "You really are quite imperceptive, Patrick. Apparently it was all quite obvious." He did throw a scathing look at Humphrey before returning to his scrutiny of the ceiling.

"Excuse me?" Pat squealed. I'm trying to save your coming-out here, mate. He felt quite back-stabbed honestly.

"Right." Julian stood up. "Are we done here? I've got a bet on. Mystery Queen. Ten to one. Come on Robin." He turned to the Captain. "And, you know, good for you, Cap."

"Add gambling to the list," Humphrey mumbled as Julian sauntered out of the room.

Robin followed after him but on his way out the door, he walked up to the Captain. He waited for the man to lift his gaze. "You wanna do it? You let me know. I know men who wanna do you."

The Captain made a strangling noise and for a moment Pat thought, he'd fall right out of his chair.

Humphrey threw his shoe at his brother's retreating back. "Sorry about him."

"I be happy for you," Mary announced as she got up and pulled her skirt into order. "So long you still be wearing them jeans sometimes."

If this was kept up, Pat would be forced to call an ambulance soon. For a suspected aneurysm. Or a heart attack. The Captain looked like he was having both.

"Yes," Kitty said. "I'm happy when you are happy. I'm going to knit you a rainbow jumper. Or maybe socks?"

"That's not ...," the Captain choked out, "not necessary, Katherine. Thank you."

Kitty giggled and skipped out of the room after Mary.

"Yes, I too," Thomas started, adopting a dramatic pose. "I too am ... I ... I support you. " Words, as they so often did, failed him. "We are family after all."

"Barely," the Captain griped. Which was actually a good sign. He seemed to be coming back to himself.

Thomas slunk away, muttering under his breath. He would be 'composing' for the rest of the evening, Pat suspected.

"Well," Lady Button spoke at last. She smoothed out non-existent wrinkles in her dress. "I hope you realise that, now that that is out, it won't change anything." She floated out of the room without another glance in her brother's direction.

"That's kind of the point!" Humphrey yelled after her.

The door falling shut was his only response.

"Yeah, she's gone," he muttered into the awkward silence that followed. Dante had completely ignored her exit, snoozing on the Captain's boots like it was a completely comfortable position to be sleeping in.

"Sorry," the Captain blurted out. He shifted his feet but aborted the movement when Dante whined up at him. "I-I panicked."

"About being gay?" Pat asked. "Because there's no reason to panic about that. It's great actually." To be fair, he did not have much experience with reacting to a coming-out. He wanted to be encouraging, not condescending. Harder than it looked.

"I wan- I wanted ..." The Captain trailed off with a low hum. He frowned down at his hands that were still gripping tightly into the fabric of his trousers. With more conviction he said, "This is where talking gets you. Nowhere."

"No," Humphrey said firmly, causing the Captain to lean away from him. "Can't you see? They don't care that you're gay. They all knew. That's why they didn't act surprised. Except-" He pointed at Pat. "And none of them care."

The Captain flexed his fingers. "It can't have been that obvious."

Humphrey cleared his throat. "I mean ... it was? Even without the thing from that wedding."

God, Pat hated being kept out of the loop all the time. "What thing from what wedding?"

It was the wrong thing to ask apparently because both Humphrey and the Captain began stuttering their way through an arsenal of incoherent noises.

Pat huffed in frustration. "Can somebody just tell me what is going on? How am I supposed to know stuff when nobody ever tells me anything?" Maybe he should abandon his morals and finally give into all the gossiping.

"I got propositioned," the Captain blurted out, eyes wide. He seemed to be full of accidental admissions today.

"At a wedding?"

The Captain nodded stiffly.

"Here at Button House?" Pat couldn't remember the Captain mentioning any other weddings he might have attended.

"Ahem. Yes."

"Oh. Which one?" There had been a few by this point. All very lovely. Only one where Pat got to play DJ though.

"Umm." The Captain squinted up at the ceiling.

"A-a few months ago?" Humphrey suggested, gaze not meeting Pat's either. Instead of staring at a fixed point, his eyes wandered all over the place.

"Yes," the Captain agreed. "Must have been."

"What is going on?" Pat screeched. "Why are you being so vague about this?"

"No reason."

"Yeah, no reason at all, Pat." Humphrey shrugged. "Just don't remember really."

"Okay?" Pat would get to the bottom of this. He focused his attention on the Captain. Who began to fidget under the scrutiny. "So you got 'propositioned'?"

"Hmm."

"By a bloke."

"Yes?"

Pat put his hands on his knees and leaned forward. "What does 'propositioned' mean here? He ask you for your number? A date?"

The Captain squeaked. Was it normal for someone to look this horrified by the thought of being asked on a date?

"The guy wanted to have sex," Humphrey exclaimed, then immediately clapped his hands over his mouth. "Sorry," he mumbled around his fingers.

Pat could not decide who of the two he should address first. The Captain seemed to have entered some kind of trance while Humphrey hissed apologies his way.

"What? Right then and there?" Pat asked. That had never happened to him.

"Not out in the open," Humphrey reassured. He seemed intimately familiar with the happenings. "They went somewhere private."

Thank goodness. Actually, Pat had not suspected the Captain to be a guy for such spontaneous activities. But, objectively speaking, he could see why people would want to jump the bloke. He was quite handsome and a sweet guy. Whenever he decided not to act like a right bastard.

"Okay?" Pat turned to Humphrey. "And how come you know so much about this?"

"Ummm." There Humphrey went with his gaze-avoidance technique again. Looking anywhere but Pat directly.

"Oh god." Pat slapped his cheeks in the onslaught of embarrassment that flooded him. "Did you walk in on them?"

"I did not sleep with him," the Captain cut in.

Pat turned to him. "You didn't?" Is that not what they had been leading up to? "Did Humphrey disturb you before it could happen?"

"Hey now, I did not walk in on anything," Humphrey clarified. "Just heard them talking."

"You eavesdropped." The Captain glared at him.

"Just on the propositioning part though. Accidentally. I didn't follow you. I'm not Julian."

Pat was still oh so confused. "So the bloke- what was his name?"

The other two immediately began acting shifty again. Throwing each other glances, shaking their heads while they made a series of non-committal noises.

Pat sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before he looked at the Captain. "So. A bloke that neither of you can remember the name of asked to have sex with you." Very poor form to not remember a name in that kind of situation.

The Captain nodded, shifting around on his chair.

"But you said no?"

"Not quite?"

Pat threw up his hands.

"I-I went with him," the Captain stammered. "I just- I wanted um- he- I changed my mind."

"Okay?" Pat felt like he wasn't even getting half of the story. "And then what?"

"I left. Went to my room. Alone."

"Riiiight." Pat pulled on his glasses. "But only you," he levelled Humphrey with a look, "saw all that-parts of it."

Humphrey nodded.

"So how did everyone else figure it out?"

"Wellll." Humphrey leaned forward to peer at the Captain.

The Captain absolutely refused to meet his gaze and glowered at the ceiling instead.

Humphrey seemed to take that as permission to continue. "There was Adam."

Pat squinted in confusion. "Who's Adam?" At least there was a name this time.

"The guy from the film crew."

"Not that actor bloke I hope," Pat mumbled. That man had seemed like a right piece of work.

"First assistant director," the Captain provided helpfully. He wasn't as opposed to discussing all of this as he wanted them to believe apparently.

"Okay?" Pat needed a moment to get his memories in order. He snapped his finger when he finally put a face to the name. "Right. Adam, yes. He was nice. Wait- did he proposition you too? Where am I when this happens?" Also, not that Pat necessarily wanted anyone to proposition him or anything but ...

"He didn't," the Captain said.

"Unfortunately," Humphrey mumbled and the Captain huffed. "What? I told you you'd be cute together."

"So, you even gave the Captain dating advice," Pat summarised. "Again, where was I during all of this?"

"Yeah, you really need to work on your observational skills, mate." Humphrey patted Pat's shoulder condescendingly. "The Captain was practically falling over himself while Adam was here. And super mope-y afterwards."

"I didn't and I wasn't," the Captain insisted.

Humphrey made a doubtful noise.

"Is that why you were suddenly interested in the filming?" Pat asked. The Captain had been loudly opposed to the idea of a film crew coming to Button House beforehand. And then he had been suspiciously present during all of it. Pat had wondered about it at the time but had put it down to all the cool equipment the crew had brought with them.

"No? I was- ahem, I didn't-" The Captain broke off with a low whine. He himself seemed to realise that denial was futile. His blush did all the talking for him. Humphrey snickered on in the background.

"So, you looking for someone then?" Pat asked the Captain. That would be nice for a change.

"No."

Never mind. Pat smiled anyway. "Cause the butcher in the village asked about you once." Which Pat had found very random at the time. He turned to Humphrey. "You think he wanted to proposition the Captain too?"

"Almost definitely."

The Captain spluttered. "I'm not- and no. The butcher. I couldn't."

Humphrey hummed thoughtfully. "Yeah, would that work?"

Pat frowned. "Why wouldn't it?"

What was the problem here? Was there some kind of prejudice against butchers? Pat felt offended even though he was a butcher only in name. Did the Captain want a housewife? Well, house-husband? Very old-fashioned of him.

"Bit of a conflict of interest," Humphrey said, clearly completely tuned into all of the Captain's trains of thought.

"What?" Being kept out of the loop all the time was becoming exhausting honestly.

"Cap's a vegetarian, Pat."

The Captain made a spluttering sound.

Steady on, mate, Pat thought. That fact had slipped his mind for a moment, alright? No need to get offended. There were more important things to focus on.

"Not impossible to work around probably," Pat said. Love is love and all that. "How does he even know you exist? You don't frequent the butcher's, I presume."

"Um, I do?" The Captain cleared his throat and his gaze became very evasive."Sometimes."

Okay? Things were getting very interesting. Pat rubbed his hands.

"Why do you visit the butcher?" Humphrey's eyebrows wiggled up and down as he grinned.

The Captain rolled back his shoulders. "That's where I purchase bones for Dante."

"Is it really?"

"Yes."

"And that's the only reason you go there?"

"Sometimes Fanny asks me to pick something up."

"And that's the only other reason you go there?"

"Yes."

"Okay?" Pat hesitated. "Maybe ... you can pick up my meat from now on as well." He was good at finding ways to be a wing-man.

"And mine," Humphrey chimed in. "On different days of the week obviously."

"I'm not a delivery service," the Captain hissed.

"True," Pat replied carefully. "And you're not looking. For anyone."

"No." With the daggers the Captain was glaring back at him, Pat got the feeling that was not a topic to be explored further. Not today at least.

"Well, anyway. This was very brave of you," Pat said, trying to put sincerity into his words. "Opening up like that. To us."

"Hm."

"Did it help?" Humphrey asked. "Saying it out loud to everyone? Make you feel lighter?"

"No," the Captain said immediately. "It brought Fanny back onto my case. Either I'll be asked to her office later or she won't speak to me for days. Maybe both."

"Her loss,” Humphrey replied cheerfully. “Just hang out with us instead.”

The Captain frowned. "I do that already."

“Yes.” Humphrey nodded. "And I love it."

"O-okay?" The Captain turned to Pat in confusion.

Pat gave him a thumbs-up. "Anytime, mate."

"Um, yes. I-"

A bloke and two women strode into the room, cutting the Captain’s reply short. All three were carrying easels. The art class was starting apparently.

The Captain stood up abruptly, upsetting Dante in the process. The poor thing slid off the Captain's boots with a growl.

"I'm going to, um.” Was the Captain blushing? “I'm going to practice my knitting, I think. Yes. Good day."

He fled the room, Dante tumbling after him.

Pat and Humphrey were left in their wake. They got up to gather up the chairs as more people filed into the room. This art class was quite popular apparently.

“Oh, we should get Cap back in here,” Humphrey said, eyes widening as he spotted something over Pat’s shoulder.

Pat followed his gaze. A young dark-haired bloke dressed in a grey bathrobe had just walked in and was taking up centre stage as the others set up their art supplies in a circle around him. “Why wo-”

The bloke nonchalantly slipped out of his bathrobe to reveal … nothing.

Well, a body obviously. A very tanned, muscle-packed body. But just that. No clothes or anything. Not even pants. Pat could feel his face become uncomfortably hot and he quickly looked away. This church had some interesting classes. How had he missed that?

Chapter Text

The day started bright and early. Too bright and too early for Humphrey's taste.

But he had dutifully set his alarm for seven. On his day off. He should be rewarded some kind of medal just for that. Or be prescribed a thorough psychological evaluation.

He grumbled his way into the kitchen where the others had way too much going on for such an early hour. The Captain was manning the kettle, impatiently bouncing on his feet as he waited for it to boil. Pat was cutting some fruit at the table with Daley hanging half off the chair next to him. He was telling some insane story. The radio was playing.

It was all a bit stressful this early in the morning.

"Ah, Humphrey," the Captain greeted him in that usual eloquent way of his. Then he almost smacked himself in the head with the cupboard door in his hurry to add another mug to the pair already sitting on the counter.

"Hiiiii."

Daley partly fell, partly slid off the chair to greet him with a hug. Then the kid launched into some elaborate retelling of all the things he had already lived through this morning - surprisingly many - as Humphrey slumped into the chair Daley had abandoned.

"Don't even think about being grouchy," Pat muttered. "Daley and I have been up since five."

Yeah, that kid was definitely high on adrenaline with the way he was jumping about.

"So have I, Patrick," the Captain said as he placed two mugs on the table, before turning around to retrieve the third.

"Yeah, and you're probably medically insane or something," Pat mumbled, rubbing his eyes. He belatedly remembered to put down the knife with which he had been cutting up his strawberries. Then he dropped his hand. "Wait."

He narrowed his eyes at the Captain who stopped the process of lowering himself onto a chair opposite them to brace for whatever telling-off he was about to receive.

"You've been up since five," Pat said slowly.

The Captain finished his journey into a seated position and nudged the milk carton over to them. "Yes, that's what I said."

"So you could have taken Daley off me hands," Pat whined as he unscrewed the milk. He managed to pour it into his tea with only minor spillage.

The Captain frowned and got up again to retrieve a kitchen towel and mop up Pat's mess. With the hand that wasn't occupied, he pulled back the milk carton before Humphrey could reach for it.

"What were you doing up at five in the morning?" Humphrey asked the Captain as he, half-heartedly at most, tried to wrestle him for the milk.

The Captain pushed him away with a tut and poured just the right amount of it into Humphrey's mug. "Went for a run, watered the garden, showered, had breakfast-"

"Yeah, alright," Pat groaned. "Bloody show-off."

"How are you still alive, Pat?" Humphrey asked sympathetically. He was just going to ignore the Captain. He could never.

"I don't know," Pat muttered. Then he brightened. "The prospect of fun keeps me going, I think."

Yes, fun they would have. But why did they have to start so early?

The answer was the list Pat procured from nowhere when Daley asked what the first point on the agenda was.

"Horse riding," the Captain said, without even seeing the list, and in the process of stealing strawberries from Pat's hoard. The man had probably picked them himself at fuck ó clock this morning.

Daley whooped and came to a stop at the Captain's side. "Which horses are we taking?"

When Daley had, quite by accident, heard about the summer activities Pat had done with his Cub Scouts while Daley had hung about Tenerife with his mum and Maurice, he had pouted for so long that they had all gotten a bit worried that his face had actually gotten stuck.

Pat had promised to take the lad camping to make up for it. It had evolved into this two-day activity package that Humphrey had ended up signing up for because it just sounded fun. And he had nothing better to do.

So, here they now were, an hour after breakfast, in the paddock outside the stable for their first activity of the day. Pat had this weird obsession, quite Captain-y actually, of working through his activities in alphabetical order. But it was in fact the Captain who, while appreciating Pat's organisational system, had insisted on scheduling the horse-riding for the morning when it was still fairly cool. They were going through a mini heat wave at the moment.

So, horse riding before archery it was.

"I got it," Daley said to whatever the Captain had instructed him to do and ran into the stable.

From what Humphrey had heard of Daley's first few excursions into the equestrian sport, the lad had made great progress. He had grown comfortable with sitting on a horse all by himself and he was now familiar enough with the equipment to help Humphrey and the Captain get everything ready.

Kitty, who had shown up in the kitchen far too chipper to be considered healthy, cooed over the horses while the Captain and Humphrey saddled them up. Pat was hovering further away. He looked like he would prefer to be on the other side of the fence.

"You don't have to come with us, mate," Humphrey told him from between Montague's legs as he adjusted the saddle straps.

"I said I'd do it, didn't I?" Pat was oddly determined to look brave. Humphrey knew that he really wasn't that big a fan of horses.

Daley returned with a round of apples that he and Kitty then fed to the animals.

"Here," the Captain said and thrust a helmet into Humphrey's hands. "Try and fit Patrick's big head in this."

"Hey," Pat squawked.

The Captain grinned and walked over to Daley and Kitty to equip them with their own head gear.

"He's got a big noggin too," Pat mumbled.

"And I love both your heads equally," Humphrey told him seriously. "Come here."

A few minutes later they were finally almost ready to head off. If it wasn't for Pat's obvious second thoughts about actually getting up on a horse. And Kitty's inability to. Not for lack of enthusiasm. She was simply too excited to listen to anything the Captain was telling her.

"No, Katherine. Turn this wa- no, this way," the Captain grumbled exasperatedly. Daley giggled on in the background.

Humphrey turned to Pat. Who was visibly dithering.

"She can't bite you once you're up there," Humphrey said, patting Eloise's side. Pat had confided in him that it was the teeth that made him wary.

That seemed to convince Pat to at least get up on the step stool.

"Just swing your leg over," Humphrey instructed him. "Not too fast. You don't wanna kick her."

Pat needed another moment to talk himself into it but then he did as he was told. He was finally seated up on horseback for the first time ever. Humphrey stayed in close vicinity to catch him if he suddenly fainted or something.

"Can I have that?" The Captain appeared and picked up the step stool. Then he hurried away again. "No, Katherine. Get back here."

Kitty had wandered back to Monty's head to stroke his mane and tell him how beautiful he was in the two seconds the Captain had left her side.

"I'm just too excited, Captain," she said as she was pulled back to Montague's flank.

"Haven't noticed," the Captain grumbled. "Get up there."

"How?" Kitty asked.

The Captain straightened up. "Have you never ridden a horse before?"

"No, of course not."

"Oh." The Captain scrunched up his nose for a second. "With your grand obsession with unicorns, I thought you'd have some experience."

"But horses and unicorns are completely different, Captain," Kitty said as she was shooed onto the step stool.

What followed was a long and detailed description of all kinds of mythical and real equestrian creatures while the Captain manoeuvred Kitty into the saddle. He seemed to be actually listening because he asked a very specific question about the Pegasus unicorn as he guided Kitty's left foot into the stirrup.

She was then sternly instructed to not move a muscle while the Captain walked over to the third horse, Jasper, to help Daley into the saddle.

"Right." The Captain pulled Jasper and Monty closer to where Humphrey, Pat and Eloise were waiting. "Are we all ready to go?"

"Um," Pat spoke up. "Did we all do a poo and a wee?"

The Captain laid his head back to groan heavenwards. "Bally hell." Then he pulled on the reins of the horses he would be leading. "Let's go."

"But did we?" Pat called.

The Captain ignored him and led Jasper and Monty out of the paddock.

"I guess we can always stop on the way," Humphrey said to Pat before he pulled Eloise to follow them.

They made their way down a gravel road that eventually turned into a dirt path with woodland on one side and some fields on the other. They left the Button House estate and entered the wilderness of the English countryside.

They stopped for a little picnic at the halfway point on a hill that overlooked the surrounding scenery. The top of Button House could just be seen in the distance.

Humphrey hadn't been aware that a picnic was part of the plans but he thanked the Captain for the juice box he had stowed away in one of the saddlebags. Pat offered them all a hardboiled egg. He'd even brought a tiny salt shaker. And there were more fresh berries from the garden. A good second breakfast all in all.

Freshly fed and watered, Humphrey snuck away for a quick bathroom break. When he returned, the Captain silently squeezed some hand sanitiser into his palm. It was amazing what he and Pat remembered to take with them on an outing like this. They were prepared for anything. Meanwhile, Humphrey would frequently check if he had even put trousers on.

They made their way back to Button House on a slightly different route. This one led through the woods but as temperatures were already rising significantly, it was nice to stay in the shade. The Captain and Pat pointed out interesting bits of flora and fauna. They even spotted a deer and its fawn in the distance. Once they had returned the stable and taken care of the horses, they all piled into Pat's car and drove back up to the house.

Next, Pat had a paper aeroplanes competition planned for them. Which was fun, despite the fact that Humphrey was really bad at making paper aeroplanes. Julian and Robin had joined them for this activity, so it naturally turned into pure chaos before they could actually get to the competition part of it. Which was a bit of a shame because Humphrey really would have liked to know if the Captain's paper version of a Spitfire just looked cool or actually had an actual chance of going somewhere. Most likely Julian's eye judging by the Captain's glare.

Then they prepared lunch together. The Captain had practised his egg-cracking skills apparently and managed to crack two of them without any shards falling into their omelettes-to-be. He looked adorably proud.

It was bird-watching after that. The Captain lamented the fact that they probably wouldn't be seeing many birds in the mid-day heat. The prospects did not stop him from donning his binoculars and stomping out into the field, expecting everyone else to follow him.

They did so more or less reluctantly. Humphrey and Kitty managed to stay for the introductory sentence and then ducked out of the rest of the activity. It was too hot to think at this point. They opted to find a nice shady spot under a tree to while the time away as Pat, Daley and the Captain trundled off.

Pat showed up after about an hour, out of breath, throwing glances over his shoulder. As if he was being chased.

"Please help me hide." He panted as he crawled into a free patch of grass between Humphrey and Kitty. "That man knows a lot about birds. I can't take any more."

It took two minutes for the Captain to show up, Daley in tow.

"Ah, Patrick, there you are. Why are you lying down with the riff-raff? We're in the middle of something."

If it hadn't been so hot, Humphrey might have kicked him in the shins.

"Bird-watching's done, mate," Pat mumbled, shielding his eyes from the sun, which was bright even in the shade, and the Captain's fiery gaze, which was equally dangerous to look directly into.

"Is it?" The Captain checked his watch. "14:23 is an odd time to have a change in activities. At least wait till the half hour mark."

Nobody had the energy to grace that with an answer.

The Captain sighed and hung the binoculars around his neck. "What is next on the agenda then?"

"Break," Pat mumbled.

"A break? We stopped for lunch only two hours ago."

"Yeah, and now we just relax for a bit."

"Cool." Daley flopped onto the grass immediately without checking for bugs or bird poo. Oh, to be young and unaware of the horrors of reality.

"I am certain that this break was not part of the schedule when you showed it to me yesterday, Patrick." The Captain fished a folded piece of paper from his trouser pocket. "Let me check, I took a photograph." Which he had printed out apparently.

"Just sit down, mate," Humphrey mumbled and tried to pull the ridiculous man onto the grass by tugging on his leg. How the Captain had not boiled yet in his cargo trousers, was a mystery. At least he had foregone the fleece jacket today, wearing in its stead a T-shirt of similar colour.

But the Captain would not budge from his upright position. He glanced over his list with a sigh.

"Sit, Captain," Kitty said firmly.

The Captain finally relented. "Yes, alright," he mumbled as he manoeuvred himself to the ground, his list flapping around with the movement. Maybe he would let Humphrey have it to fan himself.

"Just sit and relax, Cap," Humphrey mumbled and leaned back down.

Sit the Captain did. But going from the way he was sitting, there was no relaxation happening. He looked odd sitting there with his legs outstretched in front of him and his hands at his sides. He sat like a Lego figurine.

"What do I do now?" He asked after a few seconds.

Humphrey waited for someone else to deal with this maniac but they all seemed to have fallen asleep. Or were smart enough to pretend to have fallen asleep.

"Lie back, watch the clouds," Humphrey said reluctantly. He knew that, by speaking, he was making this his problem. But someone needed to help the poor man.

"Oh yes." Kitty sprung up and moved to the Captain's side in a split second. "I love cloud watching. We can sing songs about them."

"There are no clouds," the Captain pointed out through gritted teeth.

Humphrey squinted up at the very blue sky. Oh yeah. Fancy that.

"Ugh, ants," Kitty cried and jumped up again, wiping invisible critters off her pink summer dress.

The Captain leaned over the spot she had just abandoned with a hum.

"Ah," he said and pointed at something in the grass with his finger. "Look at this. This one's called a soldier. Brave little fellow." He chuckled. "They can carry several times their own body weight, did you know that?"

Kitty, when Humphrey glanced up at her, did not look particularly interested. Certainly less so than the Captain sounded. To her credit, she nodded and hummed along. While she inched away. The Captain did not seem to notice. Or care. He was mumbling something about invasions and front lines. In the hopes, he'd stay entertained for the next two minutes, Humphrey finally let his eyes fall shut again.

He must have fallen asleep shortly after. That's certainly what it felt like when Humphrey next raised his heavy head to glance at his surroundings. Pat and Kitty were still strewn over the lawn, asleep or at least pretending to be. Humphrey risked a glance at his watch. Almost a quarter past three. He had definitely fallen asleep then.

He could hear murmuring nearby, so he turned his head to find the source. The Captain and Daley were laid out on their bellies as they watched something in the grass.

"Is this still about the ants?" Humphrey asked incredulously as he struggled into a sitting position. Ouch.

Instead of a response, it led to Pat jerking awake beside him. He mumbled, yawned, mumbled again. Then he sat up. Slowly at first. But midway he seemed to come fully online and he shot up the rest of the way.

"Where's Daley?" He panted.

Humphrey just waved in the direction that would give Pat the answer. He was too busy regretting falling asleep on the bare ground. How was he supposed to survive camping tonight if his vertebrae were already out of sorts before the camping had even started?

"Oh, thank goodness," Pat sighed. He rubbed his eyes. "Thought he had run off or something."

"He wouldn't do that, would he?" Humphrey wondered as he finally managed to sit up properly.

Daley was far away from being a wild child as, let's say, Robin had been. Humphrey had always been the most well-behaved boy simply by accidentally growing up with a caveman of a brother.

Pat shrugged and then fixed him with a serious gaze. "Don't trust children. Ever."

Humphrey could only nod. Then he pulled on the collar of his shirt.

"Yeah," Pat agreed, fanning himself with his hand. "It's hot, innit?"

"I wish Lady B would invest in a pool," Humphrey sighed. He'd take one of those tiny kiddie pools at this point. But he wouldn't share. Not even with Pat.

"Well, there is a lake," Pat said thoughtfully.

"It's unsafe to swim in apparently." Humphrey could not believe that he was lucky enough to live in a place with its own private lake only to have it declared unusable.

"Why?"

"Algae and stuff." Humphrey shrugged. "Looks alright to me but apparently there is all sorts of bacteria in there. Probably those brain-eating amoeba." Which he found cool on a theoretical level but would not appreciate to actually have dwelling anywhere near him.

"Who says that?" Pat wiped his sweaty forehead in vain.

"Captain."

"Hey Cap!" Pat called.

The Captain looked up from whatever the fuck he had been inspecting in the grass.

"You know the L-A-K-E, yeah?" For a second Humphrey thought Pat had started some weird spelling game but then he realised the reason for secrecy was the six-year-old that needed to be held back from poking the prominent ant hill he was kneeling in front of.

"The what?" The Captain frowned as he switched his gaze from Pat to Daley and back.

"The L-A-K-E."

A pause. Then the Captain's brow lifted. "Ah, the lake yes."

That made Daley's head shot up immediately. Pat groaned.

But he recovered. "Is it safe for S-W-I-M-M-I-N-G?"

The Captain considered the cloudless sky as he took a worryingly long time to respond.

"Yeah, I wanna go swimming," Daley declared and rose to his feet, ants forgotten.

"Swimming?" Kitty sat up.

Pat fell backwards and rubbed his eyes.

"He's good at spelling at least," Humphrey told him and patted his arm in consolation.

"What?" The Captain blinked in confusion.

"Can we go swimming in the lake is what we are wondering," Humphrey said.

Pat was still lying in the grass, probably preparing himself to talk down a too-excited Daley and Kitty when their swimming dreams eventually fell through.

"Um, if you want," the Captain said slowly.

"Is it safe?" Humphrey asked equally slowly. Maybe the Captain wanted them all dead from brain-eating amoeba. With the way he was about ants, he might enjoy watching them wither away.

The Captain's brow furrowed once more. "Of course it is."

"It wasn't last year," Humphrey reminded him. "You said there were some weird algae things in there."

The Captain cleared his throat and his gaze slid to somewhere to his left. Then he looked down and mumbled something incoherent.

"What's that?" Pat asked, back in the conversation apparently.

"I just said that to stop you from swimming in it," the Captain muttered only marginally louder than before. He pulled on a tuft of grass.

"Why?"

The Captain shrugged. "If you had drowned, Fanny would have blamed me."

Which was entirely plausible actually, Humphrey conceded quietly. But still, he could have been swimming in their private lake this entire time? Rude.

"Is Lady B alright with us swimming in the lake?" Pat asked carefully.

The Captain shrugged again. "She goes swimming in there all the time, so probably." He paused. "Maybe."

With the way Pat and even Kitty pulled a face, they too could not quite picture Lady B in a bathing suit. Or a bikini? Maybe even skinny dip- no. Humphrey quickly forced himself to abandon that thought before it had a chance to fully form. Just no.

"I wanna go swimming," Daley reminded them all as he got to his feet by using the Captain as a climbing frame.

"Yeah, I'm about ready to melt," Pat agreed, futilely fanning himself with his hand again.

"Let's go!" Daley yelled and sped off in the direction of the house.

"Yeah, let's." Pat struggled to his feet and moved to follow him.

"But knot-tying is next," the Captain protested, making Pat stop in his tracks. "We are already behind schedule."

"Nobody's interested in knot-tying right now, Cap," Pat told him. He sounded sincerely apologetic.

Humphrey had to agree with Pat. He liked knot-tying as much as the next fellow but it was not the most thrilling activity on the list, was it? Especially when swimming was the alternative. Kitty seemed to be of equal disposition. She had picked herself up and run after Daley already.

"I am." The Captain tilted his head to the side. "And we need to follow the itinerary." He held up his paper with Pat's list of activities for emphasis.

Pat sighed. "We'll fit in some knots later, yeah? Or maybe tomorrow?" Then he pointed to the house behind him. "Sorry, gotta make sure that he doesn't forget the sun cream."

He dashed off as much as Pat was capable of dashing off with his little dad-run and his asthma.

"No archery either, I presume," the Captain mumbled, close to pouting.

"Come on," Humphrey said and got up. He shook out the inevitable pins and needles before they could fully form and walked over to the where the Captain was still kneeling among the ants.

"Don't step on them," the Captain told him and noisily rose to his feet before Humphrey could reach him. "Keep up the good work, boys," he said to the grass.

"Swiiimmiiiiiing," is what Robin greeted them with in the drawing room once they had made their way back to the house.

Robin was already wearing his most hideous pair of swimming trunks. He was also not wearing a shirt which made Lady B shriek when she happened to step into the room just after the Captain had commented on the scene with a scandalised "Good Lord".

"The absolute scandal of it," Lady B huffed. Her gaze was glued to the panelled ceiling as she quickly made her way over to the doorway that led to the library.

She slipped inside and shut the door firmly behind her. Dante, who had followed at a more sedate pace, whined in confusion. He turned his head to look at the other occupants in the room for an explanation of the sudden abandonment. When he clocked the Captain's presence, he immediately made his way over to him, giving Robin a wide berth and a judgemental side-eye.

"Right," Humphrey said. "Back here in fifteen, yeah?" He'd need a few minutes to remember what forgotten drawer he had put his swim shorts into. "Put some sun cream on, Robin."

Robin grumbled but followed him up the stairs back to their rooms.

Eighteen minutes later Humphrey was back downstairs. His swimming trunks had been harder to find than expected. Which was the Captain's fault really. If they had had regular access to the lake from the beginning, they would have been stowed away in a more accessible location. And Humphrey would have remembered it.

Speaking of the Captain.

"You haven't changed," Humphrey assessed with a keen eye for such details.

The Captain was standing in the middle of the drawing room, sans Dante but still in his cargo trousers and green T-Shirt. Somehow Humphrey doubted that the Captain was hiding a skimpy Speedo under all his layers.

"Are you not going swimming?" Humphrey asked carefully.

"No," the Captain said simply.

"Oh." Humphrey paused. "Can you swim?"

The Captain's brow furrowed for only a second. "Of course I can swim." He always got so tetchy when somebody questioned his skill set.

"You just don't want to?"

"Hm."

"Okay?" Who would not want to go swimming in this heat?

"Hiya lads."

Pat and Daley tumbled into the room. They were both so slathered in sun cream that they were as white as ghosts. Which, yeah, sun protection was important but this was a bit overkill. Pat was wearing bright yellow shorts and had his blue IKEA bag slung over one shoulder. Humphrey could see a towel peeking out. Daley was carrying a brightly-coloured beach ball. These two meant business.

"Where are your trunks, mate?" Pat asked, decisively un-amused by the Captain's unchanged appearance.

The Captain heaved a sigh. "I don't own any, Patrick."

Oh, poor sod.

Pat wrinkled his nose. "You can borrow some o' mine if you want." He sounded befuddled.

Which, same.

"Might not fit, though," Pat added, clearly sizing the Captain up.

The Captain stepped back with a squeak.

"I'm not calling you fat, mate," Pat chuckled and gestured to his own plump waist. "Maybe Humphrey ..." He turned to Humphrey with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah." Humphrey shrugged. "Got another pair." Somewhere. Definitely not stored in the same place as the one he was currently wearing. "Or Robin maybe. He got loads." All garishly ugly. With cartoon bears and stuff.

Humphrey could hear his brother loudly descending the stairs. Along with Julian apparently.

"I'm alright, thank you," the Captain said hurriedly, clearly ready to drop the topic before more people could get involved.

No more could be said on the subject because Julian entered the room. They all groaned.

While Lady B had been horrified at the sight of a shirtless Robin, she would have dropped dead at the sight of Julian. They had a skimpy Speedo guy in their midst after all. Lucky them.

"Let's goo swimmiiing," Julian said in the most salacious way anything had been said ever. A lewd hip movement and swing of his towel accompanied his words.

Robin cheered. The Captain coughed. Pat whined and covered Daley's eyes with his hands. The fast movement caused the IKEA bag to fall off his shoulders and bonk Daley in the head.

"Ouch," Daley whined as he tried to wriggled away.

"Why don't you go ahead, Julian," Pat suggested carefully, gaze fixed upwards in a similar fashion to Lady B earlier. "We'll wait for Kitty and the others."

"Nah, we'll wait." Julian dropped onto one of the sofas.

The Captain good-lorded three times and moved away from him at high speed. "If Fanny sees you do that," he started.

They all waited for him to finish the threat but the Captain seemed unable to think of anything. Humphrey could relate. Brain work was difficult when faced with that.

"I'm reeeaadyyyyy," Kitty sing-songed when she flounced into the room, accompanied by Mary and Thomas. Thank god, they were all wearing appropriate swimming gear. Secretly, Humphrey had suspected Thomas to be a Speedo guy as well. But in a surprising turn of events, his shorts were about as un-dramatic as swim shorts could be. A bit shorter than these type of shorts were supposed to be worn but that was probably on account of the bloke’s unusually long legs.

"Alright." Humphrey clapped his hands. "Let's go."

"Should we-" Pat pointed at the closed office door. "Maybe Lady B wants to come too?"

She'd probably have a heart attack with all this skin on display.

"She doesn't," the Captain said firmly.

"Did you ask?" Pat questioned him as he pulled his IKEA bag back onto his shoulder.

"No. But I know she doesn't. She has a charity dinner to attend tonight."

Pat narrowed his eyes into slits as he assessed whether that was the truth or an excuse the Captain had come up with.

"Let's go, people." Julian stood up and everyone did their best to avert their gaze again.

"Yeah, alright." Pat shrugged and led Daley towards the front door.

Their trek down to the lake was accompanied by lots of yelling and cheering and general rambunctiousness, mostly dished out by Robin and Julian. Eventually the two of them decided to run ahead and leave the others to follow at a more sedate pace. Daley did want to speed after them but Pat's hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Daaaaa," Daley whined with a pout.

The lake was just about big enough to maybe earn the title 'lake'. It looked like it was entirely surrounded by tall grass. Which was probably the only reason Robin and Julian had not jumped into the water yet.

"This way," the Captain told them and led them over to an area where the grass was a bit more sparse. A short wooden pier reached out into the lake.

Most of them dropped their towels onto the ground and crowded onto the pier to dip their toes into the water. Except Robin of course. He jumped straight in. Humphrey only rolled his eyes. He had prepared himself years ago that he would be the one to call up their mum one day to tell her that Robin had gotten himself killed while doing something stupid.

"Come on, Da," Daley moaned.

He, Pat, Humphrey and the Captain were the only ones left on the shore.

Pat finished laying out their blanket and towels.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," he finally conceded and took Daley's hand. The one that wasn't occupied with the beach ball. "Let's go."

They trundled off. Humphrey looked after them for a moment.

"Right." The Captain slowly sat himself down on the grass.

"Pat probably won't mind if you sit on his blanket," Humphrey told him.

He wasn't quite sure how to proceed. He could just leave the Captain here by himself. It was, after all, the man's own decision to not join them in the water and he was an adult. But with the way the Captain was sitting there, he seemed to not have much experience with lounging by a lake. Maybe he needed someone to show him how to do it.

Humphrey unfolded his towel and laid it out next to Pat's blanket. He dropped himself onto it.

"Come here," he said, patting the spot next to him. Then he leaned back to grab Pat's IKEA bag. "I bet he packed snacks."

He was right, of course. A whole pack of Capri Suns, a bunch of bananas and enough granola bars to get them through the Apocalypse.

Humphrey looked up to see the Captain still sitting in the grass, watching the others. Daley, Pat, Kitty and Thomas had started up a game of tossing the beach ball between them. They all hooted with laughter when Pat had to swim further out to retrieve it after a vicious pass from Thomas. Julian and Robin were either trying to drown each other or performing a routine for a synchronised swimming competition. Mary seemed to be encouraging them in whatever they were doing.

"Do I need to make it an order?" Humphrey levelled the Captain with a serious stare.

"Hm?" The Captain turned his head to look at him.

Humphrey pointed at the vacant spot next to him. "Get over here. Now."

The Captain scooted over. "Thank you," he mumbled.

Humphrey pressed a granola bar and a drink into his empty hands. The Captain thanked him again and carefully placed the snacks in his lap.

"Not a fan then?" Humphrey nodded towards the water.

The Captain shrugged. "Not the horseplay, no." His head was turned down but his gaze was fixed on the rest of their group.

Robin's cheers floated over to them as he succeeded in throwing Julian off his shoulders. They accidentally splashed Mary in the process. She retaliated with a splash that was not far off tsunami proportions.

"Maybe some serene water volleyball instead?"

Daley had gotten tired of swimming by himself apparently and attached himself to Pat's back, arm's slung around his dad's neck.

"Mh. No."

"Alright," Humphrey conceded and laid back with his head pillowed on his folded arms. "We'll just lie here then."

He had hoped that the Captain would see that as the order it was but the man stayed in his sitting position.

"You should go join the others," the Captain muttered after a few moments of quiet. Quiet except for the shouts and giggles and splashes from the others.

"Nah, I'm good, mate."

"I'm capable of sitting here by myself," the Captain said petulantly. "I don't require a minder."

"I know," Humphrey sighed and closed his eyes. "Jut wanna stay here with you, yeah?"

They fell into another silence.

"Humphrey," the Captain said after a while.

Humphrey opened his eyes and lifted his head to look at him. The Captain was tugging on some grass and his gaze was still fixed on the happenings in the water.

"Humphrey, maybe, would you-"

The beach ball hit Humphrey straight in the face.

"Sorry," Pat called from where he stood on the jetty. "Put that with our stuff, yeah?" Then he jumped back into the water without making sure that no serious injuries had been sustained. Which was quite neglectful of him.

Humphrey pulled the ball onto his lap and turned his attention back to the Captain. "Sorry, what were you gonna say?"

The Captain's shoulders slumped. "Never mind."

Humphrey waited a few seconds but the other man made no further attempt to speak. "You sure?"

The Captain nodded and turned away.

"Captain!" Kitty came running up the bank and dropped to her knees in front of him. "Captain. Are there mermaids in the lake?"

The Captain made a sound in his throat. "Of course not." He shifted his legs to avoid getting dripped on. "Mermaids aren't reeeeeeally in the habit," he cleared his throat, "of, um, residing in small bodies of water such as- as this one. Yes."

This man was hilarious. Humphrey thought he had successfully hidden his snort by noisily slurping his Capri Sun but the Captain still sent him a scathing side-eye, so maybe he had not been all that successful after all. Or the Captain did not like it when people slurped their drinks.

"Are you sure?" Kitty asked, a sceptical glint in her dark eyes. "Because I'm pretty sure I saw one just now."

The Captain turned his gaze back to her. "That, um, might have been a fish? What you saw?"

"But it was huge," Kitty insisted. "So it must have been a mermaid. Or-" Her eyes widened. "A shark. Like in the film."

They had tried to watch 'Jaws' a few weeks ago. It had not gone over well. Kitty had started sobbing almost immediately. They had not made it past minute five before Pat had turned the film off. 'Jurassic Park', was definitely off the table for a while.

The Captain rolled his eyes. "There are no shar-"

"SHARK!" Kitty screamed. She shot up and ran down to the shoreline, waving her arms. "SHARK! There's a shark in the lake!"

Just like in the film, the scene dissolved into pure chaos. They all started screaming and splashing and screaming, quickly making their way to shore without any consideration for those around them. Except Pat who had lifted Daley straight out of the water and above his head before clambering out of the water in pure panic.

"SHARK!" Kitty hollered again. As if not everyone in southern England had gotten the memo.

"Bally hell," the Captain sighed. He laid down on the blanket and hid his face behind his arms. Humphrey barely noticed. He was dying of laughter.

The others trampled up to them, Daley still held above Pat's head, grinning widely and making airplane noises.

Poor Thomas must have gotten bulldozed at one point. He crawled out of the water in an uncanny copy of the yellow lilo being washed up on shore in the film.

"Headcount," Pat announced as he lowered Daley to the ground.

"One," at least three of the others shouted.

Pat sighed and pointed to all of them in turn. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, ah, Thomas in the back makes nine. Is that all of us? How many of us were there originally? Are we missing anyone?"

"Well, I'm here, so who cares?" That was Julian of course.

Pat grumbled in his general direction and repeated his headcount three more times. Only then did he appear semi-satisfied that they had not lost anyone in the stampede. Or, indeed, to the mysterious shark.

"That was fun," Daley said. "Can we do it again?"

"Can we talk about how there is a shark in our lake first?" Pat asked, hands on his hips. "You could have mentioned."

The Captain was grinding his own palms into his eye sockets at this point, so he did not realise that he was the one being addressed.

"Kitty saw something," Humphrey chipped in. He was still winded from laughing. He would take weeks to recover from this. He may have busted a rip or two.

"I thought it was a mermaid," Kitty clarified. "And then the Captain said it might have been a shar-"

The Captain dropped his hands and shot into a sitting position. "I said it was a fish."

"But it was huuuge."

"How large was it, Kitty?" Pat asked as he watched the others descend on his IKEA snack bag like, well, sharks.

"About this big." Kitty held her hands out at the width of her torso.

"Definitely a fish, I think," Pat said. "Aren't mermaids supposed to be bigger? They are basically people aren't they?"

"Patrick. Mermaids aren't rea-" The Captain cut himself off with a cough.

"Annow, mate. But if ... they would be people-sized right?"

"I think it was a mermaid," Kitty said, nodding to herself.

"Okay, great." Pat's smile was strained. It would be, that man had just survived a shark incident. There would be some trauma for sure.

"Come look at the mermaid with me, Captain." Kitty held out her hand.

The Captain sighed, stared at Kitty's hand, then relented. "Fine."

Humphrey watched them walk down to the shore together and kneel down on the jetty so they could lean over the lake.

"Hehe."

Humphrey looked up to see Robin rubbing his hands in an evil-villain-kind-of-way as he gazed over to Kitty and the Captain as they examined the water.

"Don't you dare." Humphrey got to his feet. He knew exactly what his brother was planning.

"Me push-y."

"No." Humphrey knew it would not end well.

"Jus' a bit? It funny."

"No. He would probably punch you. And then drown you. And then punch you again."

"You no fun."

Just as Humphrey relaxed, trusting that his brother would not go through with his scheme, Robin sped off, down towards the jetty. Humphrey shot up and after him. He managed to get a hold of his brother just as they reached the pier. He pulled on Robin's hand, then wrapped his arm around his torso. They both grunted as they struggled to get the upper hand. Humphrey only realised that they had made it all the way to the end of the pier when they fell into the water.

Luckily, it was deep enough that Humphrey only lightly touched the bottom of the lake with his feet and felt what was probably seaweed brush against his back.

He gasped when he reached the surface and then coughed. He hadn't had time to prepare his lungs for the dive.

"Good lord," he heard someone say.

Humphrey wiped the water from his eyes and saw the Captain and Kitty peer down at him from the pier.

"Are you quite alright?" The Captain asked. Humphrey had never seen him look so concerned.

"Yeah," he gasped. Then he realised that he was the only one bobbing about. "Where's -"

Just then, he felt something tug sharply on his foot. He shrieked.

He heard someone shout "Shark!" just before he was pulled under.

The hold on his foot was released immediately after and Humphrey spluttered back to the surface, Robin emerging next to him, laughing. Naturally. Humphrey splashed water at him.

"Got you," Robin hollered, pointing at him.

"I hate you," Humphrey grumbled. He leaned back so he could create tidal waves with his feet.

Robin retaliated, still laughing.

They ended up scuffling and pushing each other under until they were both out of breath for good.

"Truce?" Humphrey wheezed while they were taking a moment to catch their breath.

"Fine."

They had moved away from the shore during their scuffle and now silently swam back to the pier. Where Kitty and the Captain were waiting for them, both looking mildly distressed.

Robin scrambled his way right onto the pier while Humphrey took the more sensible route of walking onto the little scrap of shoreline that wasn't covered in tall grass. The Captain led Kitty off the jetty, putting himself between her and Robin and throwing wary looks at him over his shoulder as they walked back to the others.

Pat greeted them all with more snacks.

"Play with me, Captain," Daley said and threw the beach ball in the man's direction as he was dithering on the etch of the group's circle.

The Captain managed to catch the ball just in time, then stared down at it. Daley hopped over various pairs of legs to get to a free patch of grass. "Throw it back."

"Alright?" As if the concept of throwing a ball back and forth was entirely baffling to him.

Daley giggled as the ball flew way over his head. He chased after it while the Captain yelled apologies his way.

Humphrey plonked himself onto his towel and peeled a banana.

"Were you fighting?" Kitty asked him, sitting down next to him. She sounded delighted.

"Who? Robin and I?"

"Yes."

"Oh, we were play-fighting, Kitty. Not really fighting."

"My sister and I used to do that. Play-fight in the water like that. She was very good at it. One time she managed to hold me under for so long that I passed out.”

What the fuck? Humphrey choked on a piece of banana.

"Ah, Katherine." The Captain showed up out of nowhere, holding out the beach ball. “Come play with us, yes? It’s jolly good fun.” He widened his eyes and smiled in what he probably thought was an imitation of Kitty’s own puppy eyes. Instead he looked rather deranged.

Kitty did not seem to mind. She jumped up immediately and danced over to him. “Oh, yes please.”

“You get the next turn.” The Captain handed the beach ball over to her and pointed to a spot in the grass. “Go stand over there. You’ll have the most advantageous position.”

Kitty believed him of course and trundled away, humming a cheerful tune under her breath.

“Should we …,” Humphrey started, only partially recovered from the banana in his windpipe, “investigate this sister of hers? Because she sounds horrible.”

The Captain hummed. “Maybe it’s better to leave it actually.” Of course he would say that. “She seems …,” the Captain continued, “she appears to be doing alright.” He watched Kitty giggle her way through a pass that landed the ball about halfway between her and Daley.

“Come on, Captain!” Kitty called. “You’re being a slow-poke.”

The Captain’s eyes pinched together for a nanosecond before his face evened into a more jovial expression.

“I’m coming,” he called back before turning to Humphrey again. “Do not try your tricks on her." Then he scarpered off to catch the ball Daley had thrown his way.

Humphrey remained seated on his towel, wondering what on earth the Captain was talking about.

After their frolic to the lake, they took their time with showers and dinner before they were to meet up at their designated campsite.

Humphrey knew for a fact that Pat and the Captain had taken almost an entire day to find the perfect location for their camp. He appreciated the effort but thought it entirely unnecessary. They were only staying out here for one night. And, he thought as he lugged his gear to the copse of trees they had chosen, he probably would have preferred a spot closer to the house. To make fully-functioning bathrooms more accessible. They were middle-aged after all. Surely Humphrey was not the only one who was beginning the plunge into senility with numerous nightly visits to the loo.

The location they had picked was quite idyllic though, he had to concede as he dropped his ancient sleeping bag and backpack onto the dry leaves that littered the ground. A decent cluster of trees with an area in the centre that was just large enough for some tents and a campfire.

"Just here," the Captain told Humphrey, widely waving his arms at a particular spot as if Humphrey was an aeroplane and he the bloke with the glow sticks guiding him to his parking space.

“Great,” Humphrey muttered.

For some reason he had not taken into account that the tents would not just magically pop into existence. Instead, they would have to set them up themselves.

Pat - one man, single, one child - owned four different tents. Four. Which came in handy now because none of the others owned a tent. Humphrey had owned a tent at some point but it had mysteriously disappeared. While he had been sleeping in it. Glastonbury had always been a wild affair.

So, Pat had brought his tents. Unfortunately, they were not the ones that you threw into the air and they assembled themselves through engineered magic. These were the classic kind. Where you had to fiddle the poles into one another. Pat, when all interested parties had come together for a meeting to discuss and prepare for this one night of camping, had given them a whole speech about how those pop-up tents took away from the whole camping experience and should just be outlawed. He had reminded them that tent pitching was part of the requirements for the Scout’s camping badge and that, if anyone was interested in earning that badge, or a DIY-ed substitute at least, they would need to assemble a tent. Most of them had waved Pat’s enthusiasm for badge activities away. They were adults. Only the Captain had pretended to look disinterested. And had failed epically.

Humphrey knew how to set up a tent of course. In theory. For him, festivals were the kind of event where you got mysteriously drunk within fifteen minutes of arrival. Therefore, he did not remember many details about the camping part of it all. It had been all about music and party and alcohol. Now, as a man in his forties, he could only shake his head at this kind of behaviour. And be slightly envious at the way his young body had been able to recover from all that abuse within a single day. He feared that he would be laid up with a broken back for months after tonight. And he’ll be sloshed after two beers for sure.

Thomas, who he would be sharing a tent with, had not yet arrived, so Humphrey got to work on the tent by himself. Because Thomas would probably not be much help anyway. Instead, he would stand on the sidelines and whinge at the hardship of it all as he did his best to not be blown over by the non-existent breeze.

He was making good progress, Humphrey thought as he spread out his inner tent and gathered the stakes. Unlike Pat and the Captain next to him. They were squabbling over whether there was or wasn't supposed to be a groundsheet.

To the grand amusement of everyone, Daley had invited the Captain to sleep in the tent with him and Pat. Possessing no defences against puppy eyes whatsoever, the Captain had relented rather quickly. Daley had not stopped talking about it for four hours afterwards. Their matching IKEA sharks that Humphrey had bought for them now sat propped up in a camping chairs nearby.

"Have you really set up a tent before?" Humphrey could hear Pat ask. He could not see the man because Humphrey was fighting the fly sheet into submission. "Or have you just ordered people about?"

The Captain spluttered. Which was an answer in itself.

"Can you trust my expertise on this?" Pat asked just as Humphrey managed to free his head from the fabric mess around him. "Or do I need to send you off to collect firewood with Daley instead?"

Something must have happened before Humphrey got here for Pat's patience to be so close to slipping already. The Captain cleared his throat and gripped the tent pole he was holding tightly in both hands as his gaze became fixed on the ground at his feet.

Pat put his hands on his hips. "Well?"

"I'll be good," the Captain mumbled, fumbling with the tent pole.

"Right." Pat pushed his glasses up his nose. "I thought you'd said that you've gone camping before. In the army."

"Not with this type of tent," the Captain defended, swinging the tent pole dangerously close to Pat's face. "Sorry."

Pat leaned back just in time. He took no time to recover from almost having his eyes poked out. "What kind of tents did you have then?"

Humphrey immediately imagined the old time-y tents with the single sheet held up by a pole on each end. The type of tent he suspected Pat used with his Scouts.

"None," the Captain said.

"You went camping with no tents?" Humphrey asked. He had only done that once. And unintentionally. Who even would get the idea of stealing a tent in the middle of the night? While someone was in it?

"It wasn't really camping,” the Captain clarified as he glared up at the trees. “More of an exercise to see whether we'd survive in the wild."

"Okay?” Pat nodded to himself. “And did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Survive.”

The Captain’s eyes almost bulged out of his head as he gestured wildly at himself, bringing the tent pole once again too close to Pat's head. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"Oh yeah." Pat nodded again. Then his face lit up. "Did you build a shelter out of sticks and twigs and moss? Like in a proper survival situation?"

"Something like that," the Captain muttered.

"That'd be fun to do with the Cubs,” Pat told him as he rubbed his hands. “Maybe you could show them how to do it."

The Captain hummed non-committally, doing his best to avoid Pat’s gaze.

"Okay, mate. Put that pole down for a minute," Pat said, evidently having rediscovered his patience. "We'll-"

"Da! Look." Daley appeared, his arms loaded with sticks.

"Oh, look at that." Pat beamed with pride. "Nice and dry, yeah?" He took one of the sticks to inspect it further. "Well done, mate."

"Like you taught me," Daley replied, smiling widely.

"Yeah. Put these down over there, okay?" Pat gestured to where the sharks were chilling in their camping chair. “That’s where we will build the fire later.”

"Do we need more?" Daley asked, adjusting his grip on the sticks.

"Probably. But we'll go together in a bit, yeah?" Pat ruffled Daley's hair and sent him on his way.

Humphrey watched the Captain watch the scene with a forlorn expression.

"Okay, Cap." Pat clapped his hands together, startling the other man out of his reverie. "Let's start with the inner tent.” He gestured to the fabric spread out in front of them. “The ground sheet's built in. See here?"

Humphrey managed to wrangle his poles into the pole sleeves of his tent while also keeping a close eye and ear on the happenings next door. Daley joined them, sans firewood, and helped the Captain hammer the tent pegs into the ground.

"You want them at an angle, away from the centre," Pat explained, hands braced on his knees as he watched Daley and the Captain work. "Yes, just like that. Well done, lads."

“First class,” the Captain agreed.

The serenity did not last long however.

"Oh oh." Daley sounded so forlorn that Humphrey’s head snapped up to see what was going on.

Pat held a broken tent pole in his hand. And he looked just as broken himself. “Must have snapped when Maurice put boxes upon boxes of his model trains on top of my camping gear.” The poor man had spent an entire afternoon extracting his tents from Carol’s attic.

"Ah, yes.” The Captain bounced up on his toes. “Well, I'm afraid without a strong main mast-"

"Ridge pole," Pat corrected.

"We are just left with the floppy-flappy thing." The Captain gestured to the limp fabric at their feet.

"Fly sheet, mate." Pat was becoming visibly irritated.

The Captain cleared his throat. "Without a strong and sturdy, um, ridge pole, you'll never be able to get it up." He waved his open fist up and down.

Humphrey snorted and hoped that the noise would be covered up by the rustling of his tent sheet.

"Nonsense," Pat replied firmly. "There is more than one way to make a shelter."

The Captain made a high-pitched noise. "I might just bunk with Humphrey actually."

Humphrey was secretly flattered that the Captain would even consider such a thing.

"He's sharing with Thomas," Pat pointed out and the Captain’s noises rose in pitch. "And we've got all this kit.” Pat gestured at the gear around them. “We're not starting from scratch. Come on."

Pat began pulling out the tent stakes Daley and the Captain had hammered so meticulously into the ground and gathered most of the gear into his arms before walking off with it.

“Wohoo,” Daley cheered and ran after his father.

The Captain was left in their dust. "Where are we going?" He called after them.

"Just over here.” Pat popped up on the other side of Humphrey’s tent. “We'll need the trees for this."

"Ah, yes, of course." The Captain nodded vigorously as if he had caught onto Pat’s plan.

Humphrey had his doubts about that being the case though.

Sadly, he missed out on most of what happened next because he got completely lost and tangled in his fly sheet again. And for a good long while this time. By the time Humphrey had fought his way to freedom - thanks for the help, guys – the group had attached their guy lines to the surrounding trees, their tent still spread flat on the ground.

"Now, extra point for who can tell me what this knot is called," Pat was saying as Humphrey pulled his hair back into some sense of semblance.

They had clearly not noticed that Humphrey had gone MIA.

"Ah, uh, that's a wreath knot," the Captain said confidently.

"No," Pat told him cautiously. "That's a clove hitch."

"Damn it and blast it to hell!" The Captain stomped his foot for good measure.

"Okay?" Pat waved his hands up and down in the universal gesture that told the Captain to calm the fuck down. He was probably worried about Daley picking up the Captain’s foul language.

Where was Daley anywa- oh, over there. Patiently standing next to a tree, holding one of the strings in his pudgy little fist.

"You ready, Daley?" Pat called over to him.

"Yeah, Da."

"Okay, mate, walk this way then. Pull it nice and firmly."

Daley walked slowly, tongue sticking out between his lips in concentration The Captain skipped over to him and held out his arms, prepared to catch the lad if he tripped and fell.

And then the tent popped into existence. Humphrey jumped back in surprise.

“There she goes,” the Captain cheered.

That had looked pretty cool. The twenty string that were wrapped around the surrounding trees and held up the tent told Humphrey that he had been lost in his tent sheet for a lot longer than he had thought. Or Pat was just really fast with his knot-tying.

"Lovely," Pat commented. "Tie it off."

"Okay," Daley chirped. He was standing on his tippy-toes as he and the Captain followed Pat's instructions to tie the last guy line around a thick tree branch.

"Make sure she's tied nice and firmly," the Captain murmured.

Did that man ever review what was coming out of his mouth?

"Very good,” Pat commented. “Oh, you need help, mate?"

Oh, thank goodness. Pat had finally noticed that Humphrey was having tent issues as well.

With Pat’s help, Humphrey's tent was properly set up within about two minutes. Daley and the Captain had fucked off somewhere in the meantime.

A high-pitched giggle eventually gave them away.

"Comfortable?" Humphrey asked as he bent down to find them sitting cross-legged on their sleeping bags inside their tent. The sharks had joined them, resting in the space between them.

"Hi!" Dale waved.

"Will there be enough room for your dad?" Humphrey asked. Poor Pat might need to look for an alternative shelter by the looks of it. Barry the shark really was taking up a lot of room.

"No." Daley giggled as he fell backwards onto his air mattress.

“Well, this looks very romantic, doesn’t it?”

Humphrey turned to find Thomas sneaking into the camp, a pillow under each arm. Which seemed excessive. One pillow was absolutely sensible, especially for the middle-aged men present. Which Thomas wasn’t. But two pillows? Was he planning on sleeping sitting up?

“Nice of you to show up,”Humphrey grumbled. “Now that our tent is all set up.”

“Oh, is it?” Thomas’ mouth and eyes widened with surprise. “Oh, I’m sorry I wasn’t there to lend aid. I’m afraid I was held up.”

“By that muse of yours, I presume.”

“Yes, if you must know. I was suddenly struck by-”

“Hi Thomas.” Pat showed up next to him, making Thomas scream. “You wanna help me set up Kitty and Mary’s tent before they get here?”

Which was probably a good idea. Just getting Kitty on a horse this morning had taken ages. She’d be no help setting up a tent. And she had insisted on watching Grease, again, before joining them later this evening. Who knew where Mary was or what she was up to.

Robin had opted out of the camping activity on the simple argument that people back in the Stone Age had invented houses just so they wouldn't be forced to sleep outside anymore and face the danger of getting eaten by a wolf in your sleep. The luxury of walls, windows and a roof is what kept Julian inside as well. That man was too posh to survive a night without sheets made from purely Egyptian cotton and a thread count of at least a thousand.

Thomas stumbled his way through an excuse about why he could not, under any circumstances, be asked to assemble a tent. So it was Humphrey, naturally, who ended up helping Pat set up the final shelter.

“And now,” Pat rubbed his hands when they were done, “for the most fun part. The campfire.”

“Feed it,” Pat said gently, kneeling next to a carefully constructed pyramid of sticks and branches.

“Firm blows, Daley,” the Captain encouraged. “Firm blows.”

Humphrey covered his face with his hands and watched through his fingers as Daley gave it his all to bring the campfire into existence. With Pat’s careful guidance and the Captain’s … yeah.

“Try from this side,” Pat suggested, heavily side-eyeing the Captain, and waved Daley over to the other side of the fire.

“Yes, try blowing from behind,” the Captain agreed and Humphrey suppressed a groan. That man had clearly never attended a campfire before but was so eagerly supportive that it hurt. But then he also said things like that.

“There is no way he is not doing it on purpose,” Thomas muttered, face equally hidden behind his hands. And that was saying something because one look at him and one would immediately class him as a major virgin. And if he then opened his mouth, which he definitely would, well. You’d have your suspicions absolutely confirmed.

“Haha, here she comes,” the Captain cheered when a tendril of smoke emerged. “Splendid job, Daley.”

“I need to blow her more,” Daley said wisely, “to keep her coming.”

“Jesus Christ,” Humphrey cursed and watched Pat do nothing more than pinch the bridge of his nose. How that man hadn’t imploded instantly, Humphrey didn’t know.

The fire did take luckily and they were able to move on from all that.

Pat had brought a family-sized bag of marshmallows. So they ventured out and collected suitable sticks to roast them over the fire. The Captain declared the entire operation an illegal practice based simply on the texture the marshmallows adopted. He ate his share raw. Freak.

Then Daley, swinging his legs so violently that Pat had to reach out and keep him from tipping over in his chair, asked for a ghost story.

Humphrey thought Pat would turn him down on the simple fact that it was almost bed time and little boys shouldn’t go to bed scared. But instead, the man rubbed his hands, a glint in his eyes.

"This one's actually a true story actually." Pat leaned forward in his camping chair with a sly grin. "It's about my friend. Susan. Susan and I used to walk home toge-"

"Was she really your friend?" Humphrey asked sceptically. "Or is this your attempt to make the story more believable? Because I know that that's a common technique in ghos-"

Pat's demeanour turned dark. "Naff off, o' course she was my friend."

"Yeah, alright." Humphrey put up his hands. "Go on then."

"No, I'm gonna have to start over." Pat shook his head. "Right then." He paused dramatically. "This one's actually a true story actually. It's about my friend. Susan. Susan and I used to walk home together from school. She didn't have a dad and her mum used to work late sometimes so she used to let herself in. She had this little game she played with her doggie. To let him-"

"What kind of dog?" The Captain asked, hands wrapped around the stick he had used to roast his one marshmallow with.

Pat's growl made him jump back, chair and all.

"I need to know, so I can better picture it in my head," he defended once he had recovered.

"Alright," Pat conceded, halfway mollified. "It was one of those small ankle-biters."

"Jack Russell?"

"No, his name was Fips. And no last name."

It was the Captain’s turn to growl, for once seemingly aware that he was being messed with. "The breed, Patrick. The breed."

"Oh, yeah, sure. Jack Russell." Pat waved him off.

"Well, was it or wasn't it?"

"Is it really that important?" Pat snapped.

“I wanna know what kind of dog it was, Da,” Daley said.

"It's taking away from the legitimacy of your story, mate," Humphrey chipped in. "If you don't even know the breed of your 'friend's'," he made air quotes here, "dog."

"Fine," Pat gritted out between clenched teeth. "It was a Yorkshire terrier, alright? Let's go with that."

Humphrey narrowed his eyes and saw the Captain do the same but they stayed quiet. Daley and Thomas watched them all warily.

"Right. Can I continue then?" Pat asked, pushing his glasses up his nose with his knuckle.

They all nodded.

Pat clapped his hands."Brillo pads. So. This one's actually a true story actually." He paused, eyebrows raised. "It's about my friend. Susan," he continued slowly, daring them to interrupt again. "Susan and I used to walk home together from school. She didn't have a dad and her mum used to work late sometimes so she used to let herself in." He picked up his speed. "She had this little game she played with her doggie, you know. To let him know that it was her when she got home. She'd stick her hand in the letterbox and he'd give it a lick. You know," he made some weird licking sounds that made everyone else look at him with concern. "Well." Pat’s face turned serious. "One day-"

"Here you all are." Kitty appeared out of nowhere and someone, not Humphrey, screamed. "Thank goodness,” she went on cheerily. “The lights went out in the house."

She stepped into their circle and sat down in the empty chair next to the Captain. He seemed so pleased to see her, smiling widely. Now that he wasn’t about to ram his stick into Kitty’s eye in startled self-defence.

Then he frowned. “The lights went out?”

"Yes, and the tv turned off," Kitty said morosely.

“Scary,” Daley murmured.

The Captain just sighed, rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath that definitely had the name ‘Robin’ in it.

"Sorry, Kitty," Humphrey said sympathetically because Pat was sulking about being interrupted yet again. "Did you get to finish your film at least?"

"No." She shrugged. "But I wasn't enjoying it much anyway."

"Oh?" Pat had apparently overcome his little breakdown. "I thought you really liked it last time. High school romance?" He wiggled his eyebrows.

"Yes, but it was very different this time. I didn't like the man chasing the girl."

"Well, he is the man of her dreams,” Humphrey reminded her.

"Yes.” Kitty looked him directly in the eye. “And he won't stop until he gets her."

"That's what being in love is like, isn't it?" Thomas asked. That made the Captain frown extra hard. "And in the end, she starts chasing him, remember?"

"I hope she gets him." Kitty chuckled. " Then we can all sleep again."

"Okay?" Humphrey met Pat's gaze and they both shrugged. Grease wasn’t a film to lose sleep over, was it? And she had watched it before so she knew how it ended.

“Can I finish my story now?” Pat asked after a beat of silence, looking at each of them in turn over the rim of his glasses. “Right. So. This one-”

“Hellooooooo.”

Julian and Robin appeared. Both were breathing heavily. Julian was wearing a dress shirt and tie but no trousers.

“Good lord,” the Captain squeaked and leaned over to cover Kitty’s eyes with his hand.

Pat just squeaked and did the same to Daley.

Humphrey reached over and put one of his hands over Thomas’ eyes. With the other he covered his own.

“Why aren’t you wearing trousers, mate?” Pat asked.

“Please tell me you’re wearing pants,” Humphrey added, squinting out between his fingers to check for himself. Because he wouldn’t trust Julian’s word anyway.

“I was in the middle of something,” Julian defended. “And yes, I’m wearing pants.”

He lifted his shirt tails to confirm his claims. Humphrey closed the gaps between his fingers and squeezed his eyes shut for good measure. He did not want to know after all.

“Bloody virgins,” Julian muttered, probably rolling his eyes.

There was shuffling and rustling and Daley giggling. Then Pat said, “Here. Sit down and cover yourself up. Why did you come out here half naked?”

Humphrey waited a few more seconds before he lowered both of his hands. Julian was now sitting in Daley’s chair with a blanket over his lap, Robin in the chair intentioned for Mary next to him. Daley was now situated on Pat’s lap.

“We heard you screaming, Kitty,” Julian chuckled, pointing at her. “Just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“Yeah, great. We’ll just … um, stay here for a bit, I think. Cosy, isn’t it?” Julian held up his hands to let the campfire warm them.

“We’re telling ghost stories,” Daley told him. He was half-hanging off Pat’s lap.

“Oh, me love ghost stories,” Robin said. Humphrey knew that he didn’t. And he could tell that his brother was on edge.

"Were you bollocking with the fuse box again?" The Captain asked, eyes narrowing in on Robin.

"Me not do nothing." Robin crossed his arms over his chest, only to immediately unfold them again. "Lights jus’ went fump." He threw his arms into the air as if the lights had moved on to another realm.

"I can confirm that." Julian nodded. "He was with me the entire time."

The Captain's sharp gaze turned to him. "I don't trust you to give a trustworthy alibi." Also, why would Robin hang out with Julian while he was half-naked?

Julian scoffed and rolled his eyes. "You'll never see me covering for you again. Do you know how many times I kept you out of trouble because I gave a false alibi to the headmaster?"

"That's exactly my point," the Captain ground out.

They all basked in the awkward silence as they all waited for someone to dare and inquire about the Captain's troublesome exploits.

"Riiiight," Pat finally said after at least a full minute had passed. "Am I ever going to finish my ghost story?"

Some murmured their agreement. Julian chuckled awkwardly. Robin gave a lop-sided grin and a wobbly thumbs-up.

"Okay." Pat clapped his hands and reactivated his story-telling face. "This is actually a true story actually. It's about my friend. Susan. Susan and I used to walk home together from school. She didn't have a da-"

"Everyooooooone!"

Most of them screamed. Humphrey definitely screamed. Julian and Robin screamed and then ran off into the woods. Mary walked out from behind a tree.

"Dark forces be upon us," she announced cheerily. "So I blessed the house.”

"Very kind of you's" Pat told her as he dabbed his forehead with the neckerchief he was wearing.

"You's be welcome," Mary replied, sitting down in the chair Robin had so hastily vacated a mere moment ago. She innocently folded her hands in her lap as if she had not caused them all to have a minor heart attack just now.

"Okay." Pat righted himself. "Ahem. This one's actually a true story actually. It's about my friend. Susa-"

"He said that before," Mary observed wisely.

Pat waved his hands up and down as he whined. "Yes, to get back in the mood. You can all naff off if you don't wanna hear me tale."

"No, we definitely need to hear it," Humphrey insisted. At this point, he would not be able to go back to his normal life if he didn't hear the end of this. He might actually die from the suspense.

Some murmurs from the others brought Pat's agitation back to a simmer.

"Right then." He paused. "This one's actually a true story actually." He glanced at Mary, daring her to interrupt again. "It's about my friend. Susan. Susan and I used to walk home together from school. She didn't have a dad and her mum-"

"I'm going to find out what's going on in the house actually," the Captain announced and creaked out of his chair.

"You whazzock!" Pat screeched.

"Fanny will have my head otherwise," the Captain defended. "I have to check on Dante anyway."

For a moment, Humphrey thought he was chickening out of the scary tale.

But then the Captain added, "Do not continue the story until I get back, Patrick. I want to know what happens to the dog."

"Can I come?" Daley asked, already scrambling after him.

"Um, alright?"The Captain glanced at Pat and waited for his nod before letting Daley grab his hand.

"Bring more snacks!" Humphrey called at their retreating forms.

Well. That was a bit of a let-down if there had ever been one. Pat had finally concluded his tale of Susan and her dog. And ... well.

"Great story, Pat," Humphrey said carefully.

The others murmured their agreement while they exchanged looks. They were clearly all wondering why on earth they had endured two hours of false starts only for the story to end like that. Daley had been right to fall asleep at one point, forcing Pat to pause his story-telling yet again to carry him - and James the shark - to their tent and tug him into his sleeping bag.

"At least the dog be's alright," Mary said.

Yeah, there was that at least.

“Oh.” Kitty jumped up and startled them all into an early grave. “Guess what?”

They waited with baited breath. For a good long while.

“Are you going to tell us?” Humphrey asked tentatively.

“No, you have to guess.” Kitty smiled widely, her white teeth reflecting the light of the dying campfire.

“I think you’re gonna have to tell us,” Pat said.

Kitty hid her grin behind her hands before she burst out, “I found Florence!”

The exclamation point made everyone jump again.

“Florence. The statue Florence?” Pat lifted up his glasses.

Oh yeah, Humphrey vaguely remembered something about a statue somewhere in the gardens.

“No, silly.” Kitty giggled. “The real Florence.”

“The one that looks like the statue.”

“Yes. I found her. On Facebook. Well, that's where I found her first. Who has Facebook these days?" Kitty giggled again.

Humphrey laughed hollowly. "I know, right?" God, he was old, wasn't he?

"Facebook eventually led me to her Instagram. I followed her immediately. And we’ve been chatting ever since.”

“Aw, that’s nice, innit?” Pat nodded.

“We might meet up actually.”

“You’s be careful’s. Might be an imposter,” Mary cautioned.

“Why would someone imposter Kitty’s childhood friend?” Humphrey asked her. Robin and Mary should not be allowed to hang out this much.

“You’s never knows.” Mary shrugged.

“I thought Florence was dead.”

Chairs squeaked as they all simultaneously turned to stare at the Captain. He tried to hide the fact that he had been nibbling on the leftover marshmallows by leaning forward and folding his arms over his lap to obstruct the depleted bag from view.

“What?” Pat asked as he adjusted his glasses, unimpressed with the covert sugar consumption.

“Florence,” the Captain clarified. “Isn’t she dead?”

“Why would you think that?” Humphrey leaned his head to the side.

“Florence is dead?” Tears were already welling up in Kitty’s large brown eyes.

“No, no, Kitty,” Pat reassured her. “The Captain thought she was. But she’s alive. You’ve been chatting to her, haven’t you?”

“Oh yes.” Kitty’s expression turned back from sorrow to joy in an instant.

“Imposter,” Mary whispered.

“Why did you think Florence was dead, Captain?” Pat asked because everyone had rudely ignored Humphrey’s question.

The Captain flexed his shoulders. “I just- um, Katherine made it sound like she was?”

“What? When?”

“When I- when I found her crying. Near the statue. That one time.”

“Oh, you gave me strawberries,” Kitty remembered. “That was so nice of you.”

“When was this?” Humphrey asked.

“Last summer,” the Captain mumbled. Back in his villain era. Which he did not like to talk about.

“Okay, but,” Pat fiddled with his glasses again, “Florence isn’t dead. Thankfully.”

“Are you sure?” Kitty asked.

“She just moved away, didn’t she?”

“Oh yes.”

“But ...” The Captain shifted in his chair and the bag of marshmallows rustled obnoxiously. “What if that person on the Facebook isn’t Florence? You can’t just meet up with strangers, Katherine.”

“Imposter,” Mary chimed in again.

“But it’s Florence,” Kitty argued. “I know it’s her.”

“Well, maybe,” Humphrey began, “when you do meet up with her, Kitty, Papa Bear over there,” and he glanced in the Captain’s direction just in time for the man’s expression to turn murderous, “can come with you and confirm it really is Florence. And then he’ll leave and wait in the car or something.”

The Captain’s grumbled “Why me?” was drowned out by Kitty’s very enthusiastic “Yes! Oh yes, please. Florence will love you. We’ll have so much fun.”

Apparently she had missed the part where Humphrey had clearly instructed the Captain to fuck off after confirming Florence’s identity.

“We’re going to meet Florence,” Kitty sing-songed. “All the way up in Scotland.”

“Scotland?” The Captain asked, horrified. “I’m not going to Scotland.”

“What are you so afraid of?” Thomas wondered. “It’s the land of our forbearers.”

The Captain buried his face in his hands. “Not this again.”

“It will be the best day ever,” Kitty insisted.

The Captain whined.

“You’re a good friend,” Pat told him, reaching over to pat him on the shoulder.

That made the Captain instantly drop his dramatics and pull himself out of Pat's reach. “I’m not,” he hissed.

“Okay?" Pat lowered his hand into his lap, the rejection clearly stinging. "But you are.”

"No."

Pat looked to the others for help. Humphrey shrugged helplessly.

“But you would go up to Scotland?" Pat asked carefully. "With Kitty? To make sure she’s safe?”

The Captain crunched the bag of marshmallows between his hands. “Of course I would,” he snapped.

“That’s what a good friend does, mate. Hate to be the one to tell you but you’re a good friend.”

“I’m not.”

“Right." Pat pulled on his glasses nervously. "Believe whatever you want. But if I ever needed someone come with me to meet a shady character, it’d be you.”

“Hey!” Humphrey interjected. How rude.

Pat barely so much as glanced his way.“Yeah, you can come too if you want. But I don’t trust you to protect me from an axe murderer.”

“Why not?”

“You’d probably have the axe embedded in your skull out of pure clumsiness,” the Captain ground out, rubbing his eyes.

Pat smiled apologetically. “Yeah, I wouldn’t have put it like that but … yeah.”

“You’re so mean,” Humphrey huffed and folded into himself, pouting.

“Can I come too?” Kitty asked. “To meet the axe murderer?”

“I’d prefer if you stay-” the Captain began but was interrupted by Pat saying, “Sure, might as well make an event out of it.”

“Can I bring Florence?”

“Sure, once we’ve confirmed she’s not an axe murderer.”

“I think I’ll stay home,” Thomas declared. “You never know when the muse will strike.”

“Yeah, very understandable, Tom.” Pat nodded. “What about you, Mary?”

“Oh, I be’s busy that day.”

“We haven’t set a date yet,” Humphrey pointed out.

“We’re not setting a date,” the Captain grumped. “Let’s agree that none of us goes out and meets up with an axe murderer.”

“Yeah." Pat nodded seriously. “But if I had to, you’d come, right?”

The Captain sighed. “Maybe if I didn’t have anything pressing going on. And only if I'm the one driving. And you’d be in charge of bringing snacks.”

“I knew you’d keep me safe.”

The Captain did not respond.

They all crawled into their tents not long after. For a while all you could hear was a great deal of rustling and squeaking. And middle-aged sighing and grumbling. But now they had all finally found a sleeping position they were happy staying in for the time being. Silence was descending over their camp. Some crickets and the occasional owl hoot were the only noises to be heard. Until a particularly heavy sigh cut through the air.

And it was a testament to how well they knew each other by now that Humphrey immediately knew it was the Captain who was doing the sighing.

“What is it, Cap?” Humphrey heard Pat whisper.

The Captain took a sweet second to answer. “I can’t do my pillow talk.”

“You what?”

“My pillow talk. I can’t do it with all of you here.”

“Who are you doing pillow talk with?” Pat squeaked.

“No one. Just me and my pillow.”

What the fuck, mate? Humphrey lifted his head to hear better. Because surely he had misheard significant parts of that conversation.

“You’re doing pillow talk with your pillow?” Pat asked and Humphrey could picture him putting his glasses back on to assess the situation. “What have you been doing to the poor thing in the five minutes we’ve been in here?”

“Nothing,” the Captain hissed back, surprisingly indignant-sounding. “I just want to talk to it.”

“You just want to talk to your pillow.”

“Yes. Pillow talk.”

“That’s not what pillow talk is, mate.”

“What else would pillow talk be? It’s talking to your pillow.”

Wow, Pat had the luck of sharing a tent with the biggest virgin in history. Humphrey was forced to press a hand over his mouth to stop himself from snorting out loud.

“Even I know what pillow talk is,” Thomas whispered next to him.

“Why do you want to talk to your pillow?” Pat asked awfully gentle.

“Apparently talking about things is good for you. Humphrey said so.”

Humphrey huffed. How did he manage to get pulled into the Captain’s pillow talk?

“Yeeeeaaaah,” Pat said, drawing out the single syllable into at least three. “He probably meant talking to another person? Not an inanimate object.”

A pointed silence.

“Oh.” A shuffle in the other tent. “Barry counts as a person, right?”

“Um, you’ll have to ask Humphrey I think.”

Thanks ever so much, Pat.

“Humphrey,” the Captain whisper-yelled.

“Humphrey is sleeping,” Humphrey whisper-yelled back.

“No, he isn’t.” The Captain was probably doing his angry eyebrows. “Humphrey, does Barry count as a person?”

“Maybe ask him? If he answers back, then yes.”

“Sorry, quick question,” Thomas spoke up. Humphrey could see him holding up a finger in the gloomy darkness. “Are we going to sleep anytime soon?”

“Shut up, Thorne,” the Captain growled, not bothering to whisper anymore. “We’re trying to answer a fundamental question here.”

“Maybe we can postpone that until tomorrow?” Pat interjected. “I’ve been up since five.” He yawned very audibly.

The Captain growled. “So have I, Patrick.”

“Yeah, let’s skip pillow talk tonight though, yeah? And then you and Humphrey can talk about it tomorrow.”

Why was Pat so insistent on making this Humphrey’s problem?

“Humphrey’s asleep now anyway,” Humphrey told them before snoring loudly.

He expected the Captain to argue his case or, at the very least, tell him off for fake-snoring so obnoxiously. But the man stayed blessedly silent.

For all about thirty seconds.

“Patrick?”

“Hm?”

“What happened to Susan?”

With camping come some unique sensual experiences. Certain sounds and smells and sensations that you only ever experience when you are lying in a tent at barely six in the morning.

The squeaky air mattress as you reposition yourself when you first wake up and have no idea where you are. The puzzling sensation of being too hot and too cold as you shuffle around in your sleeping bag and remember you have decided to give up your bed for the night. The slight twinge in your back that gets worse with every year you pursue this ridiculous activity.

And the distinct sound of the tent zip opening up your world to the fresh morning air outside as drops of morning dew pattered to the ground at the disturbance.

Pat was still half dozing when he heard the zip, followed by a shuffle and a whispered curse. He lifted his head and opened his eyes to see a blurry figure struggling out of the tent in the morning light.

"You alright, Cap?" Pat's vocal cords had not woken up yet so his question was more of a whisper.

The racket stopped for a second. "Yeah, fine. Go back to sleep, Patrick."

There was a rattling sound, then the tent zip again and finally a series of cracks that Pat knew could only be the Captain's knees as the man stood up outside. Another whispered curse and footsteps whispering away before the world grew quiet again.

Pat closed his eyes again and just laid there for a while. The birds were chirping merrily and he could tell it was sunny outside from how bright it was. He knew it was unlikely that he would be going back to sleep. Another unique phenomenon of camping he found. One was absolutely knackered yet unable to sleep past six in the morning. A glance at his watch told him it was 5:48. Close enough.

Pat gave sleep up as a lost cause and pulled his arms free before sitting up. Daley was still fast asleep, curled up in his sleeping bag with James the shark half covering his face. Pat repositioned James to make sure his son would not suffocate on his stuffy and then he fully peeled himself out of his sleeping bag and copied the Captain's tent evacuation routine. Minus the creaky knees, thank you. His back dared to noisily protest but Pat quickly covered it with an exaggerated yawn.

The Captain, sitting in one of the camping chairs around the extinguished fire, made no indication of having heard any of it. He was staring off into the distance, as he absently tabbed a banana against his bouncing knee.

Pat shuffled over, his feet only halfway tugged into his trainers, and fell into the chair next to the Captain. "Morning, Cap."

The Captain startled and the banana went flying. He dove after it and the fruit was saved by his quick reflexes. An odd rattling sound went along with the motions of the Captain's hand. Whatever had caused it, quickly disappeared into one of the Captain's many pockets once the banana had been reinstated on his knee.

"Yeah, mornin'."

How oddly informal of him. Pat tried really hard not to make it obvious that he was watching the Captain take small sips from his water bottle. His hair was unusually wavy this morning, some tufts sticking up at the back of his head, and his eyes were puffy. He looked like pretty much everyone did after spending a night in a tent. What wasn't normal was his posture. The Captain's shoulders were almost wrapped around his ears and his fingers were now clenched around the banana so tightly that Pat feared it might become mashed. He held himself as if he was waiting for some kind of attack.

"You alright?" Pat asked carefully.

Because the Captain kind of gave off the vibe that he wasn't. Maybe he'd just had a rough night. Being squished into a tent with Pat and Daley and two sharks could not have been easy on him. Pat knew that asking after the Captain's wellbeing bore the risk of becoming the recipient of a scathing look, maybe a scoff. Or being full on ignored. It was the latter today.

Pat however would not be brushed off so easily.

"You hungry already?"He nodded towards the banana that had been saved from a high dive onto the mossy forest ground. "I can dig out the camping cooker, get some porridge going if you want."

The Captain shrugged as he directed his empty stare to the fruit. "No, thank you."

He sounded so dejected, so heartbroken that a part of Pat's heart broke as well. They'd had such a lovely day yesterday, partly due to their great planning beforehand. It had all been very much a joined effort, especially on Pat's and the Captain's part. And they'd had so much fun. The Captain had not given off any signs of discomfort, even when he had not joined them for the impromptu swimming. He had seemed happy to sit on the shore with Humphrey and raid Pat's snacks instead. And at no point had he indicated that he was uncomfortable sharing a tent with Pat and Daley. Those were the only two points that Pat could think of that might have had an effect on the Captain's mood.

"What's wrong, Cap?"

The Captain only jerked his shoulders up even higher. Then he slowly, oh so painfully slowly, began peeling the banana. Pat silently watched him eat it, tiny bite after tiny bite. The Captain did not seem to enjoy the experience at all, wrinkling his nose every time he brought the fruit up to his mouth.

It took forever for the banana to disappear and Pat felt like the fruit was suddenly lodged in his own throat. What the fuck was going on?

The Captain had always struck him as a bit of a lost soul in need of saving. And the residents of Button House had answered the call to do so. Pat felt like he'd had a share in it. And Humphrey. And definitely Kitty and Daley. The others as well of course. After a year of slowly, glacially slowly coaxing the Captain out of his shell, letting him become comfortable to feel and express his emotions freely, Pat had finally thought that the Captain had reached some kind of inner peace, irritable though he may still be at times. That was just part of who he was. A highly irritable and sometimes angry man. Pat could live with that. He had strategies to put the Captain in his place when push came to shove. And he was so sweet and caring most days. A people-pleaser. And a bloody pushover when someone so much as blinked at him.

But this?

The anguish and loneliness radiating off the man right now made Pat's entire being fill with dread. Dread about having done something wrong. Dread about doing something wrong as he tried to fix whatever was going on.

"What's wrong, Cap?" Pat asked again, almost whispering this time. He half wanted the Captain to not hear him. But he had to know. What had changed all of a sudden?

The Captain carefully folded the banana peel into a neat little package. "Nothing." But then he looked up and his eyes widened. "Why are you crying?"

Pat had wondered why his vision was getting blurry. He almost choked on a sob. "Because-" He had to pause to take a rattling breath. "Because one of my best friends is very sad but he won't tell me why." He swallowed thickly. "Did I do something wrong?"

I'm sorry, Cap, he wanted to shout. I'm sorry if I did something wrong. Please don't leave. You are my best friend and I love you. I just want to help.

Saying any of that out loud probably would have made the Captain bolt.

They stared at each other. And then, without breaking eye contact, the Captain pulled something from his pocket. The rattling sound Pat had heard earlier sounded loud in the otherwise silent morning air. Even the surrounding fauna seemed to have realised that something was amiss. Pat could not hear a single bird chirping away in the trees.

The Captain finally dropped his gaze to fiddle with whatever he had procured. Pat too shifted his focus to the object in the other man's hand. It was a small, clear container with a red lid that the Captain now pulled off. He dumped the contents into his other hand.

A white pill rested on the Captain's palm.

Then the Captain rooted around for his water bottle with is other hand. Pat watched him bring the pill to his mouth and wash it down with two swallows of water.

Pat wanted to ask. He so desperately wanted to ask what the pill was for. But the Captain was such a private person. He did not share things easily. Hell, none of them even knew his first name. Even after a year of meeting him.

However, he had taken that pill in full view of Pat. What did it mean?

Should Pat ask? Did the Captain want Pat to ask? Or did he, at this point, just want Pat to know that ... well, there was only one implication that pill brought with it, wasn't there? The Captain wasn't well. Ill even. An Aspirin or Ibuprofen would not merit such a display.

The Captain slowly screwed the lid back onto his bottle. He stared at it for a moment. Then he shot up from his chair.

"Right."

And he marched away, abandoning Pat to wallow in the confusion he left behind.

Pat watched him retreat.

No. This is not how things were done around here. They talked in this house. So Pat stood up and ran after his friend.

"Cap, wait!"

The Captain stopped walking but did not turn around.

"Cap."

Pat came to a breathless stop. That little sprint should not have taken it out of him like it had. Bloody asthma.

"Cap."

The Captain was still facing away from Pat, staring instead at Button House in the distance.

"Captain."

"Patrick." It was barely a whisper.

Pat straightened up and tried not to breathe too heavily. This was important.

"Cap, look at me." And for a devastatingly long moment Pat thought the Captain wouldn't turn around.

But he did.

Dark blue eyes focused their intense gaze on Pat.

Pat was not sure if he was right. But he had to be brave. For his friend.

"Do you want me to ask?" Pat asked.

The Captain inclined his head.

"What the pill is for? Do you want me to ask what the pill is for?"

The Captain closed his eyes and pressed his lips together. Then he nodded.

"Okay." Pat adjusted his glasses and tried to put on a cheerful smile as if this was not important at all. In any way.

"What's the pill for, Captain?"

The Captain reopened his eyes but did not meet Pat's gaze this time. He stared down at the grassy ground instead.

"It's an antiretroviral medication."

Pat blinked at him. He felt like he had heard that word before but he no idea what the fuck it meant.

"I'm HIV positive, Pat."