Tea and Telegraphy (Watchmaker of Filigree Street, Victorian m/m fluff, cold, caretaking, h/c) 3/n

[Guest]

OK, so I don't know if anyone else has read the Watchmaker of Filigree Street, but it's an amazing novel, I highly recommend. Thaniel is the lead character in it, and if you've read it, this takes place shortly before the action in it. But I don't think you need to know it to enjoy this! It's basically just really fluffy gay Victorian hurt/comfort sickfic. I have several more parts planned with the introduction of an original character.

 

 

 

London, 1882.

 

Thaniel had felt the suggestion of a cold coming on for a few days – a slight scratch in his throat, a tickle at the back of his nose, some extra tiredness. So it wasn’t a complete surprise when he woke at 4pm on a foggy Thursday in November with a pounding headache, and found someone had replaced the contents of his skull with cold porridge.

“Huhh…hh’TSZSSCH’shieww!!” He tried to muffle the sound with his handkerchief, forgetting for a moment that he was on a run of night shifts, and wouldn’t wake any of the other lodgers at the boarding house. Sniffing, he began to get ready for work, pausing frequently to sneeze, each eruption failing to satisfy the now-constant itch clawing at his sinuses.

He splashed his face with cold water in an attempt to shock himself into alertness, but only succeeded in setting off another round of sneezing. “Huh’IHHSH’shieww!! Hh’KSCHHH’shieww!” He groaned softly and opened a drawer to find several more clean handkerchiefs to last him through the shift. Then he set off for the Home Office through the chilly London fog.

When he arrived at the Home Office, the daytime telegraphists were already packing up to go. They nodded at Thaniel, and a couple offered a brief “night,” but no one stayed to chat. It was already dark, and they were looking forward to their families, dinner, and a good fire, with no time to talk to the young night-shift clerk. He didn’t blame them; the telegraphy office (an optimistic term for a room that had previously been a broom cupboard) was cold, and Thaniel didn’t bother to remove his scarf or coat.

Usually, his only task for the six pm to 2am shift was to sit and listen out for any messages from the twelve telegraph machines, each linked to a different location. The Foreign Office, Scotland Yard, the Houses of Parliament, and so on. There almost never were any messages, so the night shift was more an exercise in staving off boredom and catching up on the day’s news. Thaniel unfolded the newspaper he had bought on the way and flicked to the theatre reviews, tucking his knees to one side in the awkward but necessary position that prevented the telegraph wires tangling on their way to the floor. He fished his handkerchief out of a waistcoat pocket and blew his nose, which was running after the cold walk in. Glancing up he saw, unexpectedly, a senior clerk in the doorway.

“Steepleton, is it?” The clerk asked, walking in with a sizeable stack of paper.

“Y-yes.” Thaniel’s voice came out in a croak and he cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. How can I help?” As often happened, the clerk’s face registered Thaniel’s unfamiliar Lincolnshire accent.

“My office has just um, found this report to go to Scotland Yard. Should have been sent in the day shift but…well.” He waved the papers vaguely. Thaniel reached out for them, and the clerk put them into his hands. He flicked through, twenty or so pages of close-written text.

“Not a problem, sir. Should have it done in the next couple of hours.”

“Really?” The clerk looked impressed. “That would be extremely helpful.”

“Leave it with me, sir. Goodnight.” Thaniel was already sitting at the Scotland Yard telegraph and so settled himself more comfortably and arranged the papers in front of him.

“Oh, um, yes. Goodnight, Steepleton.” The clerk left him to it. A few minutes later, Thaniel heard an office door further down the corridor close as he left for the night.

Thaniel glanced at the report for a few more seconds, getting the measure of it, before starting to tap briskly on the telegraph key.

HO to Yard, this is operator Steepleton with Report 207 stroke A: London security measures discussed senior council...

An acknowledging reply started to spool out of the machine and Thaniel paused to listen. The message printed out in dots and dashes on the tape, but he didn’t need to read it to understand – the sound was enough.

Yard to HO…Williamson here. Proceed… with report.

Thaniel smiled, recognising “Dolly” Williamson’s stilted coding – it was still a mystery to him how the poshest gentlemen seemed to deliberately take on the silliest nicknames. Presumably something to do with their strange schooling. Perhaps one day they’d actually meet in person, having carried on a superficial friendly interest for a year now over the telegraph wires. He wondered if he spoke with a stammer.

Before he could begin sending the report in earnest, however, his nose gave a sharp twinge and Thaniel just had time to lift his scarf to cover it as he sneezed.

“Hih’TSZSSCH’shieww!! Ugh…” With a quiet groan, he pulled the report towards him and started tapping again.

Meeting held 4^th November 1882. In attendance AC, TL, MM, PR…

He broke off to sneeze into his scarf again, digging in a pocket for a handkerchief. “Heh’KSCHHH’shieww!” Sniffling, nose still itching, he retrieved the cloth and dabbed at his nose as he resumed.

…and WT. Report heard from representatives from Department of…

His breath hitched and Thaniel took his hand from the machine in case he accidentally mistyped. “Huhh!...Huh’IKSCHHH’shieww!! IHHSHH’shieeww!!” As he lowered his handkerchief, the machine tapped out a message from Dolly.

Everything alright over there?

Thaniel blew his nose again, then tapped out a reply.

Sorry Dolly. Horrible cold. Can’t code and sneeze at same time.

Bad luck. Rotten weather for it as well.

Thanks. Anyway. Department of…

 

 

 

 

That's all for now - more soon!

Edited January 3, 2022 by Triosk1
Added new part.

[william]

love it! please go on!

[Reader]

Enjoying this! 

[Guest]

Thanks for the nice comments! This is the next part. I have at least a couple more roughly planned. Time for a meet-cute.

 

 

After a rocky start, Thaniel actually made it through the (painfully dry) report, finishing just before 11pm. Signing off to Dolly, who offered hopes he’d feel better soon, he extracted his mug and a teabag from a desk drawer, before heading down to the canteen for a celebratory (and reviving) hot drink. Usually, he tried to hold out until midnight before leaving his post, just in case any messages came through, and so he had less of the shift left when he came back, but his head was still pounding, and he hoped moving about might clear some of the congestion clogging his nose.

No one used the canteen at night, but the huge range never completely went out, so Thaniel stirred the embers up to flame again and hunted out the large copper kettle. A little gust of smoke billowed out as he closed the door and he quickly pulled out his handkerchief as he sneezed urgently, hunching over still crouched in front of the range.

“Hh’TSZSSCH’shieww!! IHHSHH’shieeww!! Hehh… Hh’KSCHHH’shieww! Hah’TSZSSCH’shieww!!”

“Blimey,” an unexpected voice commented from behind him. Thaniel stood up and turned round, surprised. In a shaded corner of the kitchen, a young man was sitting with a book. He was dressed in the mostly-black uniform of the kitchen staff, rather than one of the clerks, and looked to be in his mid-twenties, like Thaniel, with untidy sand-coloured hair and an amused glint in his blue eyes.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t see you there.” Thaniel was flustered, his cheeks colouring.

“Not to worry, I blend in.” There was cockney in his accent, although it wasn’t strong. Thaniel relaxed a little; he found the posher Home Office staff more difficult. They always seemed defensive and spiky around him.

“Is it alright if I…?” Thaniel raised the kettle.

“Go ahead.” Thaniel filled it with water from the huge stone sink and put it on the stovetop to boil. He took a seat at the other end of the large wooden table.

“Do you work here?” Thaniel asked. “I haven’t seen you down here before; I didn’t think anyone worked this late.”

The man shrugged. “Yeah, it’s a funny shift. I help out with the evening sitting, put everything to bed about midnight, then get a few hours’ sleep in the pantry.” He gestured at a door behind Thaniel with his book. “Then I get up at four in the morning and start everything up again before I clock off.”

Thaniel nodded slowly, thinking about how this young man had been sleeping just behind a door while he’d been making tea in here for months. It was a strangely intimate thought.

“You’re a clerk, I take it?” The man interrupted his reverie.

“Oh, yes. Telegraphist. But it’s usually very quiet this late.”

“Dit dit dah and all that.”

Thaniel smiled and nodded, but then turned away as his nose itched again.

“Hehh…Hh’TTZSSCH’shieww!!”

“Bless—” the man started, but Thaniel, still holding his handkerchief to his face, gave a brief, warning shake of the head, before plunging forward again.

“Heh’IHHSHH’shieeww!! Hh’ITTZSSCH’shieww!!”

“—you.” When Thaniel looked up, the other man was watching him with a small smirk. Thaniel smiled wryly.

“Thanks.” Unable to avoid it, he turned away to blow his nose, more audibly than he’d like. “Ugh, sorry.”

“Feeling under the weather?”

“It’s just a cold.” Embarrassed, Thaniel put his handkerchief away again and fiddled with his mug on the table.

The kettle began to whistle, and the young man stood up, beating Thaniel to it.

“Here, hand that over.” He gestured to the mug. Confused, Thaniel pushed it towards him, and he disappeared into the pantry, taking the kettle off the stove as he did so. While he was out of the room, Thaniel leaned over to see the title of his book. He was impressed to see it was the second volume of Hugo’s Les Misérables, in English translation. He’d never made it past the third chapter.

The man came back, carrying some jars and a spoon. He made the tea, then stirred in a couple of spoonfuls of each before handing it to him.

“There you are.”

“Thanks.” Thaniel took it and let it warm his fingers for a second before trying a sip. Honey and lemon, immediately comforting and soothing on his sore throat. “This is perfect, thank you.”

“No worries.” The man sat down and picked up his book. Taking this as his cue to go, Thaniel stood up.

“I’d better be getting back. It was nice to meet you.” The man didn’t reply for a minute, seemingly reading. But after a beat he added:

“It’s Sam, by the way.”

“Steepleton,” Thaniel responded, automatically, then inwardly cursed. “I mean…it’s Thaniel. Sorry, something about being at work makes me use surnames by default.”

Sam laughed. “It’s that kind of place. Thaniel’s unusual, though.”

“I know, I know. But my father was Nat, so…” Thaniel trailed off, having explained this more times than he could count. Sam nodded, understanding.

“Well, night, Thaniel.”

“Goodnight, Sam.”

[Reader]

I love your writing style! This was such an enjoyable read. 

[EveP]

This is lovely. I'm looking forward to more.

[starpollen]

Definitely looking forward to more. 🥰

[Guest]

More! Less sneezing, more hurt/comfort, angst and coughing.

 

 

 

The fog was even thicker the following afternoon, and Thaniel woke with a familiar ache in his chest that heralded a night containing more coughing than anyone needed. He dressed, shivering, unsure if he was running a temperature or if it was just the frigid air of his room. He felt oddly disconnected, going through the motions without really registering what he was doing. It wasn’t until he had his hand on the doorknob to leave that a forceful sneeze reminded him that he didn’t have a handkerchief.

“Hahh’TTZSSCH’shieww!!” With a sigh, he turned back to address this.

The air outside was freezing and thick with fog and smoke, darkness already having fallen hours ago. Thaniel hunched into his scarf, trying not to cough as the cold air burned in his sore throat. When he arrived at the Home Office, he had to pause on the stairs up to the telegraphy office to catch his breath.

“Someone’s left an orange in your pidge, Steepleton,” one of the clerks said as he went in. When Thaniel looked blank, he jerked a thumb at the post-trays against one wall.

“Oh, um, thanks.” Thaniel went over, wondering what a ‘pidge’ was. Probably some sort of Oxbridge thing. Sure enough, a small orange was sitting in the tray with his name on it. A note was pinned to it with a drawing pin, the act of puncturing the skin giving the air a slight citrusy tang. He held the orange up to read the brief note.

Oranges are good for colds. Cuppa later? S.

Thaniel’s lips quirked up in a half smile. Pocketing the orange, he nodded goodnight to the other clerks and sat down.

He ate the orange at 9pm, grateful for the tart flavour to help keep him awake. No messages had come in for the last hour, and no harassed clerks had mysteriously found reports for him to send. Thaniel flicked listlessly through the day’s newspaper, unable to focus on any particular article, listening to the clock at the end of the room tick away the seconds.

Once it got to 11pm, still with no messages received, he headed down to the canteen kitchen with his mug, relieved at the prospect of sitting somewhere actually warm for a few minutes, if nothing else. As he pushed open the door, he could already hear the kettle on the hob starting to whistle.

“Evening,” Sam used a cloth to take the kettle off the heat by its handle.

Thaniel started to reply but all he managed to do was start coughing; deep, wrenching coughs that fought their way painfully out of his lungs. Embarrassed and dizzy, he sat down quickly and covered his mouth with a handkerchief, still coughing hard, trying to get himself under control. After what felt like several hours, the fit subsided.

“Christ, sorry.” Thaniel looked at his feet, cheeks reddening.

“Well, you look like death warmed up. Give us that.” Sam reached for his mug and Thaniel handed it over.

“It sounds worse than it is, really. The fog…” Thaniel’s voice cracked and he gestured vaguely, keen not to start coughing again. Sam poured hot water into two mugs.

“Yeah, London’s no place to be in smog like this.” He stirred honey and lemon into Thaniel’s mug and gave it back to him. “Where are you from, anyway?”

“Lincolnshire. Have you always lived in London?”

“Born and raised. I live with my gran over in Peckham – she’s getting on and needs someone to look after her. Me and my sisters see she’s alright. You got family?”

“My sister – she lives up in Edinburgh with her two boys.” Thaniel took a sip of tea, relaxing as it warmed his throat. “Thank you for the orange, by the way.”

Sam shrugged and ran a hand through his messy hair, looking away. His turn to be embarrassed. Changing the subject, he asked: “You like clerking?”

Thaniel shrugged. “The telegraph machines are quite interesting. Getting to know…heh!” his breath hitched and he pulled out his handkerchief quickly, preparing to sneeze, but it didn’t quite come, so he carried on. “To know the machinery… hehh!..Hh’ITTZSSCH’shieww!!”

“Bless—“ Sam began but Thaniel cut him off.

“Not…finished…” he choked out, before another two desperate sneezes. “Heh’IHHSHH’shieeww!! Hh’ITTZSSCH’shieww!! Ugh…” He groaned quietly to himself as the room spun sickeningly, his head throbbing.

“Bless you,” Sam said, watching him quietly.

“Um, thanks. I…ought to go back upstairs.” A bell was chiming the quarter somewhere in the depths of the building. “Two and three-quarter hours to go.” Thaniel suddenly wanted very strongly to be somewhere where there was nowhere else around and he could be ill in solitude. But he felt bad when he saw Sam’s face fall, then close up.

“Course. G’night.”

“Night.”

Thaniel kicked himself all the way upstairs. It wouldn’t have been so hard to make polite conversation for five minutes. He’d been working in the Home Office for months, and although he had no problem with any of the other clerks, he’d got on better with Sam than any of them, and he’d only known him for two days. But, it couldn’t be helped. And anyway, he was at the end of his night shifts; they wouldn’t cross paths for at least another week.

Somehow, he made it through to 2am without falling asleep, even though absolutely nothing came through on the telegraphs. He had started trying to take the Foreign Office machine apart (the tape always jammed after 30 seconds) but reconsidered the wisdom of this after he’d dropped the third small screw in a row and sneezed at least a dozen times from the dust in the unswept corners of the office.

“Huhh…hehhh…Hehh’TTZSSCHH’shieww!!” Grimacing, he blew his nose, now painful and sore, and packed his few things away ready to leave. He nodded to the early-morning clerk, who hurried past him in the corridor, running late as usual.

On his first step outside the Home Office building, the freezing air cut straight through his meagre coat and bit into his nose and lungs as he took a breath, immediately starting to cough again. Thaniel took a few steps away from the door in case he got in someone’s way before leaning against the wall of the building and coughing hard into his cupped hands, struggling to catch his breath. When he finally straightened up, he became aware of someone standing next to him.

“Blimey, you really aren’t built for London, are you?” Sam asked, watching him. Thaniel laughed, then had to try not to cough again. He shivered in his coat.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Wanted to see you got home alright. State of you. What is this?” He flicked Thaniel’s coat lapel. “Wouldn’t survive an April shower, let alone this smog.” He shrugged his own, much heavier, coat off. “’Ere, put this round you.”

“Oh…no, it’s—” Thaniel tried to protest but Sam, although a little shorter, was strong and deftly tucked his coat over Thaniel’s shoulders like a cloak.

“Right, where d’you live? How’re you getting there?”

“By Millbank Prison, on the river, it’s just a short walk.”

“I know it. Come on then.” Sam started forward.

“You don’t have to—” Thaniel began, stepping away from the wall, but his vision blurred and spun, and he put a hand out to steady himself, staggering.

“Woah, steady now.” Sam grabbed his arm and stood him upright. “None of that. Quite fancy a walk along the river myself anyway.”

“Aren’t you working?” They set off together, Sam still keeping a firm grip on Thaniel’s arm. The street was so dark and empty there was no one to see the unusual couple they made.

“Nah, they don’t pay one ‘til three anyway. Cheapskates.”

They kept walking. Thaniel had to stop for a second to cough again into his hands before carrying on.

“My gran has a good remedy for coughs,” Sam commented, as though simply making conversation. “It works as well, not just an old wives’ tale. You get a bowl of hot water, boiling hot, and stick your head over it. Cover your head and the bowl with a cloth and breathe in the steam for a few minutes. If you’ve got a peppermint or something like that, you can stick that in the bowl, but it doesn’t really matter.”

“Thanks,” Thaniel said, awkwardly. “I’ll try it. Um…this is me.” He gestured at an unappealing terraced house with a “Rooms to let” sign in the window. “Thanks again for…everything.” He took off Sam’s coat and gave it back to him, immediately missing its warmth.

“No worries.” Sam looked down, frowning. He shrugged on the coat and ran his hand through his hair. An awkward silence stretched out.

“Look…” Thaniel wasn’t sure where to start but he realised that it was his turn to make an effort and this was probably his only opportunity. “I’m off nights now for a week or so but…do you fancy a drink sometime? Do you get Sundays off?”

Sam scratched the back of his neck and smiled up at Thaniel. “Yeah. Alright. D’you know the Rising Sun in Camberwell? It’s pretty quiet. Discreet.”

“I can find it. 6 o’clock?”

Sam nodded. “See you then.” He turned and walked away, back towards the river bank. Thaniel watched for a few seconds as he tried to find his key. After a few paces, Sam turned and glanced back, then continued. Smiling quietly to himself, Thaniel unlocked the door and headed, finally, for bed.

[starpollen]

Loving it. 🥰👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻

[Reader]

Awwwww how darling this is ❤️

[funbusej]

SUCH a cute story!!  Very well written and love the spellings!