Summary: Most of Barma manor's servants are sick with flu, so Rainsworth loans servant Xerxes Break to Duke Rufus Barma. What kinds of trickery does Break unleash on the household? And what happens if Rufus – or Break himself – gets ill?

Words: 4866

Rating: G

Writer's Note: Cracky fluff for your amusement. Takes place about 13 years prior to present. Thanks to total_alias for beta reviewing!

(1)

It was flu season, and a number of the Barma household's servants had taken ill. So many were bed ridden, feverish and coughing that Duke Rufus Barma had no choice but to call for reinforcement while his household recovered from this minor plague. The four duke houses did not always get along, but Rufus knew he could count on his childhood friend Sheryl Rainsworth – Duchess of the Rainsworth dukedom – to provide him with a good servant he could count on. And so it was that one day, a relatively new Rainsworth household servant came to Barma manor to help out for a couple of weeks. His name was Xerxes Break.

Duke Barma had only met the man once or twice before, at Pandora meetings. He knew that Xerxes was an eccentric trickster, who carried a smart-alecky doll named Emily on his shoulder. Yet he was somehow strong enough to have contracted with Mad Hatter, one of the most dangerous chains in the Abyss. This trial of servitude could well turn out to be a mixed blessing, thought Rufus, watching Xerxes step from the carriage.

"Ah, Duke Barma-sama!" called Xerxes, smiling as he waved and walked up the steps. "You came out to meet me yourself, I am honored."

"I had no choice," Rufus said, gazing at Xerxes from behind his fan. "Everyone else is sick, as I am sure you heard from the Duchess. The only one left on his feet at the moment is the cook."

"Well, that's good news, because my cooking skills leave something to be desired," announced Xerxes, walking through the door that Rufus held open.

The two men walked into the main meeting area and sat down. Rufus had already secured some tea and refreshments from the kitchen and he offered some to his newly loaned servant. This is quite humbling, really - thought Rufus as he deigned to pour Xerxes a drink - to serve a servant tea. Yet he felt he should treat him as a guest until he could lay down the rules, which of course was about to do, and quickly.

"So," said the Duke, sitting down across from Xerxes. "Here are the rules I expect you to follow for the duration of your servitude here. Number one. You must speak to me respectfully, using the proper honorifics."

"Yes, Sir Duke Barma-sama, my lord," said the eccentric man, bowing his head.

Rufus felt the tingling of blood on his cheeks.

"That…is over the top. Duke Barma will do." He closed his fan and pointed it at the doll perched atop other man's shoulder. "Number two. That doll must stay in your room. I want no wisecracks in my presence."

Xerxes looked at Emily and frowned like a sad, sad clown. Rufus was unmoved.

"Number three. You shall dress in appropriate servant's attire while you are here. You'll find an outfit on your bed that should fit you."

Rufus then detailed the chores he expected Xerxes to do, which included scrubbing floors, dusting, filing papers, and serving tea to any guests that might arrive.

"Although I don't expect many guests, as everyone has been warned away," he continued.

"Duke Barma, if I might ask a question of you?"

"Go ahead."

"What if you or I become ill?"

"I expect you to stay healthy, Mr. Hatter. I've been told you have a good constitution. As for me, I do not expect to become ill either, but if I do…I expect you to care for me with a nurse's dedication. Understood?"

"Understood." Xerxes bowed his head and smiled.

(2)

Xerxes set Emily down on a chair in the room he'd been given for the duration of his stay. He looked at her broadly smiling face for a moment, thinking of how he might maintain his sense of dignity during this humiliating trial he was about to undergo. Then he smiled mischievously, took off his jacket and turned to face the servant's clothing that Rufus had laid out on his bed earlier. A maid's dress? Reluctantly, he put on the dress then turned to the mirror. His cheeks flushed, he gritted his teeth angrily, and then gathered up his hair in the back with a bunch of bobby pins.

He came out of his room and wandered down the corridor, looking for the room where Reim Lunettes kept his files. Unsure of its exact whereabouts, he started opening doors and poking his head around.

"Xerxes!" said a raspy voice.

"Reim?" Xerxes entered Reim's bedroom and cautiously approached his bedside.

"What are doing in that ridiculous get up?" It was obvious that Reim was trying to yell, but in his present condition, he just sounded like a hissing snake.

The man in the maid outfit smiled.

"I'm serving Duke Barma this week, since so many of you are laid up in bed with the flu."

Reim scowled.

"Don't make that face, Reim, it will get stuck in that position forever."

He rolled his eyes, well familiar with the white-haired man's antics, having lived with him at Rainsworth manor for a period of time.

"Well, I must find the study and do some filing. Can you tell me where it is?"

He pointed and rasped, "Right next door."

"Well, that's convenient for you…"

"Don't mess up my system, Xerxes!" Reim could barely speak.

"I can't hear yoooou!" The man was already out the door with a swish of his long skirt.

(3)

Xerxes spent the rest of the morning trying to file Reim's papers. Rufus had given him little instruction, so left to his own devices, he came up with his own special plan. He muttered to himself as he worked.

"Let's see…papers pertaining to Barma house should be filed under 'D' for Dodo, since that's the name of their chain. Nightray's papers should go under 'R' for Raven…Vessalius goes under 'G' for Gryphon…Baskerville goes under 'J' for Jabberwocky…Rainsworth under 'O' for Owl…"

He had a feeling that he was doing it entirely wrong. The fact that the 'D' file contained no other Barma household papers was a hint, but he chose to ignore it.

Lunchtime came around and he was quite hungry. Figuring correctly that no one was going to be serving him food, he snuck into the kitchen to see what he could find. The cook was absent, but he managed to find a few small cheesecakes and a plate of roasted root vegetables, which he consumed in short order. He gazed at his reflection in the side of a shiny saucepan, and was cleaning his teeth with a toothpick when Rufus poked his head in through the door.

"If you're going to be loafing about in the kitchen," said the Duke, fanning himself, "you could at least consider doing a bit of cooking while you're there. The cook has taken ill just now. I'll be expecting you to bring me dinner in my study this evening, around 7 o'clock." He started to shut the door, and then opened it again. "Oh, and the refuse needs to burned outside and there's a stack of laundry to be done."

Rufus left his new servant alone in the kitchen, giggling to himself.

Xerxes put a jacket on over his maid outfit, and marched outside in the cold. He quickly located the Barma household's refuse pile by its odor, and lit a match to it. Then stood back and watched it burn, warming his hands a bit by the fire.

Then his eye lit upon some clumps of leaves growing in the garden nearby. They were a lovely shade of red and green. Winter beets. He recognized them - their sweet taste made them one of the few vegetables he really enjoyed. So he pulled them out of the ground and dropped them off in the kitchen for later.

Next, he went to the laundry room, which was also locatable by smell. He spent the next couple of hours scrubbing the clothes and linens over a washboard in a basin, and got his clothing quite wet in the process. He happily slipped off the wet dress and washed it, too. Naked except for an undershirt and drawers, he was hanging the laundry to dry on some racks, when one of the ill maidservants came into the room looking for something. She screamed and ran off to see a strange nearly, naked man there. Xerxes was embarrassed for a brief second at his state of immodesty, but then chuckled to himself.

After the laundry was done it was nearly 5pm and time to start preparing dinner. Xerxes happily put his own clothes back on (since his maid outfit was wet, he had an excuse not to wear it), blew Emily a kiss, and went into the kitchen determined to make a miracle happen.

Muttering to himself: "Well, I know that food cooks for a certain amount of time, but I have no idea how long it takes to cook anything. So I suppose if I cook things for varying amounts of time then something will turn out right."

He found some rice in the cupboard and was puzzled to see how hard the grains were. I must need to add water to make it soft somehow…maybe hot water? So he set a pot of water on the fire along with a few handfuls of rice and hoped for the best.

He knew enough to at least wash and peel the beets before putting them, whole, in the oven. While he was pondering how long it might possibly take them to cook, Reim poked his head in the kitchen.

Please don't tell me Xerxes is cooking, he thought to himself.

"Xerxes!" he choked out. The white-haired man turned around and smiled.

"What are you doing out of bed?"

"I'm hungry."

"Have a piece of cherry pie," Xerxes offered him a slice.

"Where's the cook?"

"Fallen ill, I'm afraid," said Xerxes, wiping his hands on a rag. "What's that terrible look on your face, Reim?"

Reim walked unsteadily to the cooking pot and gazed inside.

"You need more rice than that," he rasped, pointing. "You're feeding ten people here. Eleven, including yourself."

"Well alright, thank you for letting me know. Now back to bed with you…" Xerxes pushed Reim out the door. Then he dumped half the bag of rice in the pot and some accidentally spilled on the floor. A few grains fell in the fire and crackled, exuding a burnt smell. Then he finished off the rest of the cherry pie himself.

"Onward to the next challenge!" he announced to no one in particular, for he was used to having Emily to talk to, but she was back in his room.

Aware that food often was covered with 'sauce,' he looked through the cupboard for something with the word 'sauce' on it but found nothing. Please tell me sauce is something I can find already prepared. He really couldn't imagine cooking it from scratch, as he had no idea what comprised most sauces. Then his eye alit on a jar of chocolate syrup. Ahah! That will work.

So an hour or so later, he had a giant, bubbling-over pot of overcooked rice, some whole beets in varying states of doneness, a jar of chocolate syrup, and a large pot of tea.

"The rest of the servants can come serve themselves, I suppose," he mumbled, wheeling a cart with a plate of food and some tea down the hall to the Duke's study. Only then – leaning against the cart for support and dragging his feet - did he realize how worn out he was from such a strenuous day of activity.

Rufus looked up from his reading material at the smiling face of Xerxes Break. That man smiles too much, it's weird. But at the same time, he seems…fairly benevolent. Still, perhaps I should have done a background check on him before allowing him to come here.

"I'm at a good stopping point," said the Duke, shutting his book. "Please sit down and join me for dinner."

"Well I already ate, Duke Barma, but I can stay if you'd like my company." Xerxes opened the cover on the plate to display his masterpiece.

"There are a few pieces of advice I need to convey –" Rufus stopped short when he saw his dinner. "What… is that?"

"Roasted beets and rice with chocolate sauce. My own concoction!" Xerxes beamed proudly.

"Hmmph," mumbled Rufus, taking a bite of the rice, which had been stained pink by the beets. "Not bad actually. Now have a seat. I have a couple of things I need to advise you on," said the Duke, putting down his fork for the moment. "Number one. Keep your clothes on in front of the other residents of Barma manor."

"I'll do my best."

"Number two. Refuse is not burned when there is a westward wind. It blows the smoke back toward the house."

"You could have told me that earlier," muttered Xerxes, "but thank you for letting me know."

Rufus scowled ever so slightly, but decided to let the rude comment slide.

"Now your last task of the day is to play a game of chess with me. The board is over there if you'll retrieve it." He pointed to a low cabinet.

Wearily, the white-haired man stood up on his aching feet and got the chess board. For the next hour, he played against the Duke, who took at least two minutes to decide each and every move he was going to make. By quarter after 8, Xerxes was nodding off.

"Are you asleep, Hatter?"

Xerxes jolted in his seat, his eyes flew open.

"So sorry."

"I expect you to stay awake for the rest of this game."

"You aren't one for acknowledging people's humanity are you," muttered Xerxes under his breath.

"What did you say?"

"Oh, nothing." Xerxes smiled half-heartedly, and moved a piece on the board. Rufus won the game a few moves later.

"Checkmate!" the Duke declared, flashing the first toothy smile Xerxes had seen from the man all day.

"Congratulations," said Xerxes, bowing his head. Foolish bird* has no idea I let him win just so that I could get the game over with faster.

(4)

The next morning, Xerxes was pushing a mop down a long corridor, when he turned a bend and saw something he didn't expect to see: Rufus Barma on the floor.

"Duke Barma!" he said, rushing forward, then suddenly stopped short when he noticed a pool of lumpy liquid surrounding the man. Oh dear God, Xerxes plugged his nose from the smell. Duke Barma was passed out in his own beet-colored vomit.

He dragged him to a washroom and shook him awake, then got a wet cloth to wash his face. Oh, it's even in his hair, thought Xerxes, cringing inside. Rufus moaned a little and rolled to his side on the cold stone floor, then his eyes opened and he saw Xerxes there and grew alarmed.

"You! You poisoned me!" he accused.

"I think not," Xerxes said, his face fraught with concern for his own self-preservation. "We ate the same thing, and you were the only one who got sick. And besides," he said, placing his hand on Rufus' forehead, "you're burning up."

"W-what?" he stammered, his voice weak.

"I think you have the flu, Duke Barma."

They spent the next fifteen minutes trying to wash the puke out of his hair, and by the time Xerxes half-carried him back to his bedroom, Rufus was shivering all over. While Xerxes got a bag of ice from the kitchen, the Duke put on a clean nightshirt and crawled into bed. When the servant returned, he placed the bag of ice on the sick man's head. Accustomed to hiding his facial expressions behind a fan, Rufus pulled the covers up over his mouth and nose. His eyes reflected nervous discomfort, and for a moment, Xerxes was reminded of a small, frightened child.

"You will take care of me, won't you, Mr. Hatter?"

"Of course," he said, grinning. "I've always wanted to be father," Xerxes muttered, thinking of his dear Ojou-sama back home.

"What did you say?"

"Oh, nothing."

One of the maids was feeling well enough to resume housecleaning, so Xerxes' main focus shifted to babying the Duke. And he really did need babying. The noble man was a pathetic invalid. All day long he whimpered things like:

"I feel cold, I need more blankets."

"My head hurts from the light, can you close the curtain?"

"My pillow is all soaked through from sweat."

"My back aches, can you press on it?"

And Xerxes complied with every demand all day and into the evening, bringing fresh bags of ice and wet compresses for the man's forehead, listening to him ramble in fitful sleep about some half-delirious notions, and observing that as the day wore on, the Duke had strangely become more kind and appreciative of his presence.

"My throat hurts," whined Rufus, dark red hair stuck to the side of his damp face. "Please bring me something warm to drink."

"Well, you've discovered the word 'please' I'm happy to hear," mumbled Xerxes.

"What did you say?"

"Oh, nothing."

"How is it…" said Rufus, with a curious tone, his cheeks flushed with fever, "that you speak politely and formally, yet I still feel insulted somehow when you talk to me?"

"I'm an exceptionally skilled servant," said Xerxes, smiling and bowing. "Duchess Rainsworth, as you know, would only spare the best for you, Duke Barma."

"That…doesn't make any sense…"

"Fevers scramble the brains, you know," said Xerxes, pushing a damp wisp of stray hair off of the other man's forehead. "I'll bring some tea, and then you'd best get some sleep, hmm?"

(5)

The next day the Duke had total laryngitis, but for better or worse, Reim was now up and about in Barma manor.

"What are you doing out of bed and dressed?" asked Xerxes, wheeling a cart with the Duke's breakfast on it.

"I'm much better now you know," Reim said, looking down at the covered plate on the cart. "What did you cook this time, Xerxes?"

"Such a suspicious sounding voice, Reim!" Xerxes lifted the cover. "It's left over rice cooked with some eggs I found."

Reim gazed at the slightly runny eggs dripping over the burnt rice with a look of consternation.

"Where did you find the eggs?"

"Under the chickens, of course!" Xerxes covered the plate back up.

"Well, I think I'll cook the lunch today if you don't mind. I'm getting quite tired of rice."

"That would be quite all right with me!" Xerxes beamed, then frowned and whispered, "This stupid duke of yours is quite the pesky invalid."

"I'm well aware of it," Reim muttered. "Well, now I must see to the paperwork."

The two parted and twenty minutes later - when Xerxes was returning the dirty dishes to the kitchen - he heard Reim screaming,

"What idiot filed Barma papers under 'D'?"

The white-haired man pictured Reim standing at the filing cabinet with some entertainingly annoyed facial expression and chuckled into his sleeve.

(6)

The day continued much as it had the previous day, but now Rufus – because of his laryngitis - was forced to use hand gestures and facial expressions to make his needs and wants known. This provided additional amusement for the servant, since he discovered he could pretend to not understand (even when he did) and then watch the Duke get even more animated in his expressions. But eventually, it occurred to Rufus to get hold of a piece of paper and pen, and write down what he wanted, and the first thing he wrote was: "Bring me a chamber pot now!"

Xerxes sighed, brought the pot and then stepped out of the room, not wanting to be privy to what was about to go down in the Duke's room.

There was a knocking sound at the front door to Barma manor, and he went to answer it. It was a commercial baker's messenger, delivering six cakes. Oh I'm so glad I thought to order these in advance, thought Xerxes.

"Thank you kindly!" said Xerxes, licking his lips. "Bill it to Duke Barma, will you?"

He happily wheeled the cakes down to his room and resisted the temptation to try to eat them all at once.

On his way back to Duke Barma, he saw Reim in the hallway, glaring at him. He was about to open his mouth, when Xerxes blurted out,

"Oh Reim, stop by my room later for some cake, hmm? See you 'round 8pm!"

After Xerxes tucked Rufus into bed that evening and stroked his back until he fell asleep, he adjourned to his bedroom.

When he opened the door, he was pleased to find his cakes were still there. There was a chocolate cake with raspberry filling and vanilla frosting, a German chocolate cake, a vanilla cake with almond frosting, a strawberry cake with vanilla fondant, an almond bundt cake and a plum cake. He smiled broadly, did a little happy dance, and then sampled each of the cakes while waiting for Reim to arrive.

"Sorry I'm late, Xerx," Reim apologized in a manner that indicated he really wasn't feeling all that sorry at all. "I had quite a mess to sort out in the filing. Some idiot -"

Xerxes shoved a fork laden with chocolate cake in his mouth and soon his grousing glare turned to a happy face. So blissed-out was he by the taste, he barely noticed that the white-haired man was maneuvering him over to the table.

"Have a seat, Reim!"

A chair was thrust under the bespectacled young man and pressure against the back of his thighs forced him off his feet. But then the chair gave way under his weight - Reim ended up sprawled on the floor, and his fork flew across the room into the dust bin.

"Oh, so sorry, I wasn't expecting that to happen," said Xerxes, genuinely apologetic. "You must be heavier than you look."

Reim scowled.

"Apologize to my lord, Duke Barma, as it was his chair."

"I'll fix it," Xerxes said, putting the leg back up against the seat. He took a piece of hard candy out of his mouth (which was down to a sliver at this point) and tried to use it as glue for the chair.

"You really haven't a clue sometimes," muttered Reim, who was now seated cross-legged on the floor. "Trying to follow your logic makes me dizzy." He took a spinning top from his pocket and wound it up, then spun it across the floor in the other man's direction.

"Another top, Reim?" said Xerxes in surprise. He gave up on trying to fix the chair and left it in pieces on the floor. "Where did you get that one?"

"Duke Barma gave it to me for my most recent birthday. He gives me one every year, since he knows I'm fond of them."

Xerxes then brought a couple of the cakes down to the floor so they both could continue eating.

"I think I'm getting a little too old for toys," Reim continued, eying the strawberry cake, "since I just turned thirteen, but I guess he still sees me as a child or something."

Xerxes handed him a slice of each cake on a large plate.

"I'm just trying to imagine Duke Barma as the sort who would give presents…"

"Oh, he's really not a bad sort at heart," mumbled Reim with a handful of cake in his mouth. He was eating it with his fingers since his fork was gone.

Xerxes continued eating with the fork for a moment and then decided Reim shouldn't get to have all the fun, and started eating with his fingers, too.

After binging on cake and washing up, they sat on the sofa and played cards for a while. This went well until Reim became cognizant that the white-haired man was acting off-kilter, even for himself.

"What's wrong Xerx? You're squirming around a lot."

"Oh, I…" he considered thoughtfully for a moment, "…feel a bit…odd."

"Odd? You look a bit flushed." Reim stood up and put his hand on the other man's forehead. "Fever."

"Ah. I guess that's possible."

"It's not only possible, it's probable. Spending all these days here…caring for my lord with his illness."

"Well, I don't expect it will affect my functioning at all." Xerxes played his last card. "There. I won again!" He grinned and gathered up the cards.

Reim sighed. "Well, I guess if you have the flu, I'll be taking care of you."

"You won't need to Reim, I'll be fine." Xerxes waved his hand dismissively. "On that note, I think I should be going to bed. Good night!" He smiled weakly and pushed Reim out the door.

(7)

Xerxes blew out the candles and climbed into bed, but found it difficult to sleep. Tossing from side to side, the aching in his muscles was becoming more and more difficult for him to ignore. He tried pressing wherever he felt discomfort, but eventually became frustrated when he realized that darn near everywhere hurt on him, including his hands, which were worn out from rubbing. He eventually resorted to a tactic he'd used a while back when his empty eye socket used to ache at night - moaning himself to sleep. The rhythmic sound of quietly moaning with every exhalation did the trick and eventually he was asleep and dreaming.

In his dreams, he was lying on top of a giant cake frosted with vanilla buttercream frosting. The creamy goodness of it enveloped him, and pulled him into the cake like quicksand. The feeling was claustrophobic – he felt trapped, unable to move his limbs. Then even though he couldn't see anything from inside the cake, he became convinced that someone had put the cake - with him inside - into a hot oven. He awoke drenched in sweat and panting.

I need ice, he thought, and stumbled down the hall to the kitchen. With shaking hands, he fixed up a bag of ice and placed it on his head, then went back to his room and lay down. Afraid to go back to sleep, he lay there awake for a while, trying to convince himself that his splitting headache would subside when the ice lowered his fever, and at last drifted off into uncomfortable dreams.

He awoke in the morning feeling wretched, wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and dragged himself down the hall. Unable to walk a straight line, he kept bumping into the wall. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder and gasped in surprise. Duke Barma was up and dressed and looking him right in the eye. He shook his head at the servant, and tugged on his arm to lead him back down the hall to his bedroom. Once he'd seen Xerxes back to bed, he scribbled something on a piece of paper that said,

"Stay here, I'll be back."

A few minutes later he returned with a bag of ice, some ginger tea and a bowl of stewed fruits. Rufus placed the bag of ice on Xerxes' head.

"What are you doing, Duke Barma?"

"Taking care of you," came the terse, written reply.

"But you're not well, either…you still can't even speak!"

"I'm just saving my voice," said the Duke, hoarsely. "My fever's gone down."

"I-I appreciate this kindness of yours but I think I can manage on my own," Xerxes said, pulling the covers up.

"Nonsense! You look terrible." Rufus took a damp cloth and wiped the sweat from his servant's face and neck.

I don't deserve this kind of nice treatment, thought Xerxes guiltily.

"Duke Barma, I don't require or deserve your assistance," he protested, even while admitting to himself that the damp cloth felt nice.

"It's my style to trade fairly," said Rufus, with quiet determination. "You helped me in my time of need, so I will help you."

Rufus stood up and went over to the fireplace to add some more wood. On the way, he saw the broken chair. After a moment's consideration and after brushing away Xerxes' profuse apologies with a waving of his hand, he broke the chair into pieces and tossed them in the fire.

"I'll check on you later," muttered the Duke. "Don't forget your tea and fruit." He was on his way out the door, when he saw Emily on a chair. He picked her up and placed her in the crook of Xerxes' arm, then smiled. In his bleary-eyed, feverish state, Xerxes couldn't tell if the smile reflected genuine happiness or smarmy derision, but it didn't really matter much to him.

"Thank you," he said, snuggling Emily closer.

After the Duke left the room and closed the door behind him, Emily said,

"I can't believe he threw a chair in the fire! He's a knowledgeable guy, but he's not that smart!"

Xerxes looked at Emily and said, "Very true, but he's really not a bad sort now, is he?"

END

* The kanji for Rufus' chain, Dodo, roughly translates as "foolish bird".