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indeedsir_backupTitle: Jeeves and the Winter Night's Walk
Author: Mice
Pairing: Bertie/Jeeves
Rating: G
Words: 590
Summary: A cold, snowy night and a kiss under the mistletoe
Disclaimer: I don’t own a damned thing. This is all for my own perverse amusement. No newts were harmed in the production of this story.
Author's Note: For the IndeedSir Holiday fest, prompt: Kiss under mistletoe
Escaping the Dread Bassett was all in a day's work for this Wooster. I would like to say I accomplished it on my own, but that would be a slight overstatement of the case, given that the immense Jeevesian brain had been hard at work churning out the plot. Regardless, I had successfully oiled out of yet another unwanted engagement and was all the better for it.
Spode had been put off, Madeline dodged, and my Aunt Dahlia appeased. Sadly, Sir Watkyn was still a bit steamed about his sudden lack of a particularly shiny bit of silver, but I had nothing to do with its disappearance this time. Unfortunately, Sir Watkyn wasn't convinced of my innocence, and even Jeeves hadn't been able to salvage the sitch, so we were afoot in the thickly wooded expanse between Totleigh Towers and Brinkley Court -- a stretch of several snow-filled miles.
The wind was bellowing like an aunt at a hapless nephew and the snow was falling thick about us. "How far do we have to walk?" I asked, up to my knees in the blasted white stuff.
"There is a gamekeeper's cottage not far from here, sir," Jeeves said, his voice muffled by the thick woolen scarf wrapped about his neck and the lower regions of his dial. His size 14 bowler stayed firmly upon his head despite the wind. I wish such could be said about my own cap, but it had flown the coop shortly after our dash out the scullery door, and my ears were paying the price. "I have been assured that it is well stocked with both firewood and comestibles. The structure is small but sound, and should warm quickly for that."
A gust of the harshest northerly nearly took me off my feet, but Jeeves reached out and steadied me, one arm about the slender Wooster waist. He tugged me behind a thick, sturdy oak, where the wind was slightly less enthusiastic. I couldn't help shivering, feeling like my bones were about to shimmy right out of the old corpus. Both of his arms went about me at that, and it took a bit of the chill off, to be snuggled up in such a safe space. I gave a small, contented sigh and settled in comfortably.
A moment later, I was turned in the Jeevesian embrace and quite thoroughly snogged. Not at all opposed to this turn of events, I dove in with a will and snogged back, applying the lips with gay abandon. I have no idea why abandon should be gay, but it certainly seemed like the stuff for the troops. Some time later, breathless, I looked up at my stunningly brilliant manservant and said, "I say, Jeeves, not that I'm at all opposed to this turn of events, and I am quite considerably warmer now for having participated, but what brought this on?"
Jeeves looked up into the towering oak above us and pointed to a lump of vegetation, somewhat out of place in the otherwise-denuded arboreal edifice. "Viscum album, sir," he said.
"Viscous what?"
"Viscum album, the European mistletoe. It is traditional to bestow a kiss upon one's companion when standing beneath it." There was a bit of a wicked twinkle in his eye.
"Well, then, we'd best collect a bit to hang over our resting place in the gamekeeper's cottage, what?"
The hint of a smile on his map widened into a genuine, delighted grin. "Indeed, sir. I believe that would be an excellent idea."
Author: Mice
Pairing: Bertie/Jeeves
Rating: G
Words: 590
Summary: A cold, snowy night and a kiss under the mistletoe
Disclaimer: I don’t own a damned thing. This is all for my own perverse amusement. No newts were harmed in the production of this story.
Author's Note: For the IndeedSir Holiday fest, prompt: Kiss under mistletoe
Escaping the Dread Bassett was all in a day's work for this Wooster. I would like to say I accomplished it on my own, but that would be a slight overstatement of the case, given that the immense Jeevesian brain had been hard at work churning out the plot. Regardless, I had successfully oiled out of yet another unwanted engagement and was all the better for it.
Spode had been put off, Madeline dodged, and my Aunt Dahlia appeased. Sadly, Sir Watkyn was still a bit steamed about his sudden lack of a particularly shiny bit of silver, but I had nothing to do with its disappearance this time. Unfortunately, Sir Watkyn wasn't convinced of my innocence, and even Jeeves hadn't been able to salvage the sitch, so we were afoot in the thickly wooded expanse between Totleigh Towers and Brinkley Court -- a stretch of several snow-filled miles.
The wind was bellowing like an aunt at a hapless nephew and the snow was falling thick about us. "How far do we have to walk?" I asked, up to my knees in the blasted white stuff.
"There is a gamekeeper's cottage not far from here, sir," Jeeves said, his voice muffled by the thick woolen scarf wrapped about his neck and the lower regions of his dial. His size 14 bowler stayed firmly upon his head despite the wind. I wish such could be said about my own cap, but it had flown the coop shortly after our dash out the scullery door, and my ears were paying the price. "I have been assured that it is well stocked with both firewood and comestibles. The structure is small but sound, and should warm quickly for that."
A gust of the harshest northerly nearly took me off my feet, but Jeeves reached out and steadied me, one arm about the slender Wooster waist. He tugged me behind a thick, sturdy oak, where the wind was slightly less enthusiastic. I couldn't help shivering, feeling like my bones were about to shimmy right out of the old corpus. Both of his arms went about me at that, and it took a bit of the chill off, to be snuggled up in such a safe space. I gave a small, contented sigh and settled in comfortably.
A moment later, I was turned in the Jeevesian embrace and quite thoroughly snogged. Not at all opposed to this turn of events, I dove in with a will and snogged back, applying the lips with gay abandon. I have no idea why abandon should be gay, but it certainly seemed like the stuff for the troops. Some time later, breathless, I looked up at my stunningly brilliant manservant and said, "I say, Jeeves, not that I'm at all opposed to this turn of events, and I am quite considerably warmer now for having participated, but what brought this on?"
Jeeves looked up into the towering oak above us and pointed to a lump of vegetation, somewhat out of place in the otherwise-denuded arboreal edifice. "Viscum album, sir," he said.
"Viscous what?"
"Viscum album, the European mistletoe. It is traditional to bestow a kiss upon one's companion when standing beneath it." There was a bit of a wicked twinkle in his eye.
"Well, then, we'd best collect a bit to hang over our resting place in the gamekeeper's cottage, what?"
The hint of a smile on his map widened into a genuine, delighted grin. "Indeed, sir. I believe that would be an excellent idea."
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Date: 2012-12-21 11:08 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2012-12-21 04:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-22 12:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-21 04:45 pm (UTC)The wind was bellowing like an aunt at a hapless nephew and the snow was falling thick about us.
I love this line for so many reasons aaaa.
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Date: 2012-12-22 12:53 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2012-12-27 01:54 am (UTC)Thanks!
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Date: 2013-01-04 09:46 am (UTC)