![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
pyrocrastinator.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
indeedsir_backupTitle: The In-Laws
Rating: Light T.
Pairing: Jooster.
Summary: Jeeves gets to know Bertie's parents. Well... in a way.
I don’t imagine anyone will ever read this - but if you do happen to, let me inform you up-front that this little memoir is not the sort of cheerful, engagement-riddled tale you have no doubt come to expect from Bertram.
What you must understand – sorry, I’m afraid I’ve grown rather accustomed to writing for an audience – is that Jeeves and I had somewhat crossed the boundaries usually set in place between employer and valet. To be frank, we’d gone rather beyond the b. of even good friends. I’ve certainly never kissed any of my old school chums. Well… Maybe one or three of them. But that’s another story.
That’s all the details you’re getting about that. I only mention it because this story would seem a bit absurd without that knowledge. I don’t imagine it’s common practice to introduce one’s valet to one’s parents, particularly when one’s parents are deceased.
I had been thinking on it for a while, and Jeeves, being Jeeves, of course worked out that something was bothering me. He confronted me about it, in that subtle way he has.
“Tea, sir?”
“No thank you, Jeeves.”
“It’s good for the nerves, sir.”
“My nerves are fine, Jeeves.” My voice was curt, if that’s the word I’m looking for.
Apparently realizing that I wasn’t going to play the game, he set subtlety off to the side for a while.
“Bertram.”
I nearly jumped. “Yes?”
“I can tell when something’s bothering you.”
I sighed. “Indeed you can, Jeeves.”
“What troubles you, sir?”
“Oh, plenty of things. They all seem to come back to the same point – or rather, the same two points.”
“What are those, sir?”
I hesitated. “One of them concerns you. Us, I mean.”
No one but me would have noticed the flash of… not fear, starts with a t… trepidation, I think – that crossed his face. That’s mostly because it didn’t cross it, per se, but rather, flickered on and off – I had trained myself to notice these things, you see.
“Sir?”
“Nothing to worry about, Jeeves – nothing serious. It only bothers me that… Well. I mean to say, most birds can take their beloved home to their parents. We are very much at home, but there are no parents to speak of, and I’m not sure they would approve if they were here.”
He nodded, his eyebrow rising an eighth of an inch. “I can understand your distress, sir.”
“Stop with the sir, would you? No one else is listening.”
“Very well.”
“I just want to be able to tell someone. And if you can’t go to your own parents, who can you bally well go to?”
“Perhaps you can, sir.”
I ignored the ‘sir.’ “Jeeves, I have no doubts about your talents in virtually every field of knowledge known to man, but if you’re about to tell me that you can bring back the dead –”
It was rather a lucky thing that he cut me off there, because I didn’t really know where I was going with that sentence. Perhaps he suspected as much, for he rarely interrupts me.
“I am not speaking of anything quite so drastic, s-… Bertram. You are aware that tomorrow is Friday the 13th?”
“Yes. What of it?”
His tone softened almost imperceptibly. “Very few people visit graveyards on such a date.”
~-~-~
The cemetery was not a foreign sight to my eyes. I had been there before, to bring flowers and such when it struck me to do so, but I didn’t make a habit of it. And I’d never made such an important trip to the old place before.
As it was, I hesitated outside the gate. Jeeves took my hand. Ordinarily we wouldn’t take such a chance outside of the house – but it was nearly eleven o’clock at night, and, as Jeeves had predicted, there was no one about.
I took a breath, and then a step. Jeeves followed, and I fancy it was habitual caution that made him release my hand.
Once actually inside the cemetery, my resolve hardened: I was going to see this through.
We walked in silence to the gravesite. I could have found my way there with my eyes closed hopping on one foot. You don’t forget where your family is buried.
Standing before the headstones, it took a matter of seconds for my recently-hardened resolve to… well, not crumble, exactly, but perhaps it cracked a bit. This was silly. More than that – it was ridiculous. I was acting like a small child who still believed in fairies. (That made me shudder, bringing to mind a certain female acquaintance.) I was in a graveyard, coming to tell my deceased parents that I was in love with a man. Even if they’d actually been there, who’s to say they wouldn’t have simply been aghast at the news? I couldn’t stand the thought.
“Jeeves, I can’t.” Dash it. My voice was imitating my resolve.
Jeeves said nothing, taking my arm and propelling me forward. No doubt he knew I’d never forgive myself if I walked away. I swallowed and shook my head. “I… good lord, I don’t even know what to say…”
“Would you like me to start?”
I blinked. “What? I – I mean, yes, if you want to…”
Before my astonished eyes – now that doesn’t sound quite right; eyes can’t be astonished, can they? Hm. Before my astonishment-filled eyes – much better – Jeeves stepped forward. He inclined his head first to one stone, then the other.
“Mr. and Mrs. Wooster. I am honored.”
I nearly laughed. I was afraid, however, of what sort of sound might come out of my mouth if I opened it, and so I resisted.
“I have the undeserved privilege of being your son’s partner.”
Only Jeeves could tell two rocks that we were lovers and actually sound respectable.
I would have argued with him about the ‘undeserved’ nonsense – but again, my better sense prevailed and I kept my mouth firmly shut.
“You should be proud of him. He is a wonderful man. I will look after him for you, if you will permit me. I love your son, Mr. and Mrs. Wooster, and I intend to stay with him for the remainder of my life.” Bowing his head again, he stepped back.
“I believe it is your turn, Bertram.”
I nodded, taking a step forward. I had imagined myself addressing them – or rather, their burial marks – calmly, a “Mother, Father, this is Jeeves” sort of thing. Thanks to my nerves, my earlier misgivings, and Jeeves’s uncharacteristically emotive speech, I managed to make a hash of things, as usual.
“Mum. Dad.” I stopped there for a moment, unaccustomed to saying the words. “I want you to meet… I mean I wish you could meet… I mean, if – if you were alive I’d be…”
I suppose the good thing about talking to rocks is that they don’t interrupt you – although, I would not have minded in the least if one or both of the absent parties suddenly popped down from the Great Beyond and told me to stop babbling… Of course, that didn’t happen. The G. B. does not generally let its residents come down for visits.
“Dash it, if you were alive I wouldn’t be able to do this at all!” My voice was failing me again. Jeeves’s hand landed on my shoulder, and I took a deep breath.
“This is Jeeves. He’s… We’re together.” I gulped. “I love him. I wanted to tell you. Mum… I have a vague memory of you telling me not to let myself be shaped by what others wanted. I’m not sure if becoming an invert is what you had in mind, but I suppose it’s what I am. I hope you don’t mind. I hope you still… If you were still here, I hope you wouldn’t lock me up for it. Dad…”
I faltered again. I had been older when my father had passed, and I could remember him more fully. For some reason that seemed to be making things more difficult. I maneuvered my voice around the building obstruction in my throat. “You’d like Jeeves, Dad. He’s an excellent piano player. I wish you could meet him. Both of you… I love you both. I want you here. I… I miss you. I wish we could have a wedding. And I wish that when we did, you could be there. I wish you could be answering me right now, whether you were telling me everything was all right or shouting at me about disownment and calling the police.” I paused, drawing in a quivering breath. “I don’t… know what else to say.”
I stumbled, more than actually stepped, back to Jeeves’s side.
“Was any of that intelligible?” I inquired. He nodded.
“It was admirable, Bertie.”
I sniffed, looking the other way. Really, springing my nickname on me at a time like this… It was just cruel.
“Bertie.”
I shook my head. He was doing it on purpose, the fiend!
“Look at me.”
I complied. He kissed me, softly, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. I deepened the kiss, almost desperately. Eventually common sense kicked back in, reminding us both that we were outside.
“I wish you could’ve met them,” I murmured after we’d ‘come up for air,’ so to speak. My face was pressed into Jeeves’s shoulder. His right hand was resting on the back of my head, and his left arm was wrapped securely around me.
“As do I. May I make a suggestion?”
I nodded against him, sniffling.
“I cannot meet them in person, but we can achieve something similar.”
“What’s that?”
“You never talk about them, Bertie. I hardly know anything about them. Perhaps if you told me what you remember of them, it would both provide a better sense of closure for you, and get us as close as we will ever get to my knowing them.”
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try.” I looked up, still not pulling away. I must have been weeping, for the next thing I knew Jeeves’s hand was gently dashing tears away. I couldn’t help it: I laughed.
“I say, Jeeves, I’m behaving like a child. A female child, even.” I straightened up, swallowing, and managed a smile. “Let’s go back home. You can fix us something hot to drink and I’ll tell you what I can.”
I know this is in first person, but would you folks mind terribly if the next chapter is in 3rdP? I started writing it last night at about eleven, and it didn't occur to me until about half-way through that I was using the wrong POV.
~God Bless.
Rating: Light T.
Pairing: Jooster.
Summary: Jeeves gets to know Bertie's parents. Well... in a way.
I don’t imagine anyone will ever read this - but if you do happen to, let me inform you up-front that this little memoir is not the sort of cheerful, engagement-riddled tale you have no doubt come to expect from Bertram.
What you must understand – sorry, I’m afraid I’ve grown rather accustomed to writing for an audience – is that Jeeves and I had somewhat crossed the boundaries usually set in place between employer and valet. To be frank, we’d gone rather beyond the b. of even good friends. I’ve certainly never kissed any of my old school chums. Well… Maybe one or three of them. But that’s another story.
That’s all the details you’re getting about that. I only mention it because this story would seem a bit absurd without that knowledge. I don’t imagine it’s common practice to introduce one’s valet to one’s parents, particularly when one’s parents are deceased.
I had been thinking on it for a while, and Jeeves, being Jeeves, of course worked out that something was bothering me. He confronted me about it, in that subtle way he has.
“Tea, sir?”
“No thank you, Jeeves.”
“It’s good for the nerves, sir.”
“My nerves are fine, Jeeves.” My voice was curt, if that’s the word I’m looking for.
Apparently realizing that I wasn’t going to play the game, he set subtlety off to the side for a while.
“Bertram.”
I nearly jumped. “Yes?”
“I can tell when something’s bothering you.”
I sighed. “Indeed you can, Jeeves.”
“What troubles you, sir?”
“Oh, plenty of things. They all seem to come back to the same point – or rather, the same two points.”
“What are those, sir?”
I hesitated. “One of them concerns you. Us, I mean.”
No one but me would have noticed the flash of… not fear, starts with a t… trepidation, I think – that crossed his face. That’s mostly because it didn’t cross it, per se, but rather, flickered on and off – I had trained myself to notice these things, you see.
“Sir?”
“Nothing to worry about, Jeeves – nothing serious. It only bothers me that… Well. I mean to say, most birds can take their beloved home to their parents. We are very much at home, but there are no parents to speak of, and I’m not sure they would approve if they were here.”
He nodded, his eyebrow rising an eighth of an inch. “I can understand your distress, sir.”
“Stop with the sir, would you? No one else is listening.”
“Very well.”
“I just want to be able to tell someone. And if you can’t go to your own parents, who can you bally well go to?”
“Perhaps you can, sir.”
I ignored the ‘sir.’ “Jeeves, I have no doubts about your talents in virtually every field of knowledge known to man, but if you’re about to tell me that you can bring back the dead –”
It was rather a lucky thing that he cut me off there, because I didn’t really know where I was going with that sentence. Perhaps he suspected as much, for he rarely interrupts me.
“I am not speaking of anything quite so drastic, s-… Bertram. You are aware that tomorrow is Friday the 13th?”
“Yes. What of it?”
His tone softened almost imperceptibly. “Very few people visit graveyards on such a date.”
~-~-~
The cemetery was not a foreign sight to my eyes. I had been there before, to bring flowers and such when it struck me to do so, but I didn’t make a habit of it. And I’d never made such an important trip to the old place before.
As it was, I hesitated outside the gate. Jeeves took my hand. Ordinarily we wouldn’t take such a chance outside of the house – but it was nearly eleven o’clock at night, and, as Jeeves had predicted, there was no one about.
I took a breath, and then a step. Jeeves followed, and I fancy it was habitual caution that made him release my hand.
Once actually inside the cemetery, my resolve hardened: I was going to see this through.
We walked in silence to the gravesite. I could have found my way there with my eyes closed hopping on one foot. You don’t forget where your family is buried.
Standing before the headstones, it took a matter of seconds for my recently-hardened resolve to… well, not crumble, exactly, but perhaps it cracked a bit. This was silly. More than that – it was ridiculous. I was acting like a small child who still believed in fairies. (That made me shudder, bringing to mind a certain female acquaintance.) I was in a graveyard, coming to tell my deceased parents that I was in love with a man. Even if they’d actually been there, who’s to say they wouldn’t have simply been aghast at the news? I couldn’t stand the thought.
“Jeeves, I can’t.” Dash it. My voice was imitating my resolve.
Jeeves said nothing, taking my arm and propelling me forward. No doubt he knew I’d never forgive myself if I walked away. I swallowed and shook my head. “I… good lord, I don’t even know what to say…”
“Would you like me to start?”
I blinked. “What? I – I mean, yes, if you want to…”
Before my astonished eyes – now that doesn’t sound quite right; eyes can’t be astonished, can they? Hm. Before my astonishment-filled eyes – much better – Jeeves stepped forward. He inclined his head first to one stone, then the other.
“Mr. and Mrs. Wooster. I am honored.”
I nearly laughed. I was afraid, however, of what sort of sound might come out of my mouth if I opened it, and so I resisted.
“I have the undeserved privilege of being your son’s partner.”
Only Jeeves could tell two rocks that we were lovers and actually sound respectable.
I would have argued with him about the ‘undeserved’ nonsense – but again, my better sense prevailed and I kept my mouth firmly shut.
“You should be proud of him. He is a wonderful man. I will look after him for you, if you will permit me. I love your son, Mr. and Mrs. Wooster, and I intend to stay with him for the remainder of my life.” Bowing his head again, he stepped back.
“I believe it is your turn, Bertram.”
I nodded, taking a step forward. I had imagined myself addressing them – or rather, their burial marks – calmly, a “Mother, Father, this is Jeeves” sort of thing. Thanks to my nerves, my earlier misgivings, and Jeeves’s uncharacteristically emotive speech, I managed to make a hash of things, as usual.
“Mum. Dad.” I stopped there for a moment, unaccustomed to saying the words. “I want you to meet… I mean I wish you could meet… I mean, if – if you were alive I’d be…”
I suppose the good thing about talking to rocks is that they don’t interrupt you – although, I would not have minded in the least if one or both of the absent parties suddenly popped down from the Great Beyond and told me to stop babbling… Of course, that didn’t happen. The G. B. does not generally let its residents come down for visits.
“Dash it, if you were alive I wouldn’t be able to do this at all!” My voice was failing me again. Jeeves’s hand landed on my shoulder, and I took a deep breath.
“This is Jeeves. He’s… We’re together.” I gulped. “I love him. I wanted to tell you. Mum… I have a vague memory of you telling me not to let myself be shaped by what others wanted. I’m not sure if becoming an invert is what you had in mind, but I suppose it’s what I am. I hope you don’t mind. I hope you still… If you were still here, I hope you wouldn’t lock me up for it. Dad…”
I faltered again. I had been older when my father had passed, and I could remember him more fully. For some reason that seemed to be making things more difficult. I maneuvered my voice around the building obstruction in my throat. “You’d like Jeeves, Dad. He’s an excellent piano player. I wish you could meet him. Both of you… I love you both. I want you here. I… I miss you. I wish we could have a wedding. And I wish that when we did, you could be there. I wish you could be answering me right now, whether you were telling me everything was all right or shouting at me about disownment and calling the police.” I paused, drawing in a quivering breath. “I don’t… know what else to say.”
I stumbled, more than actually stepped, back to Jeeves’s side.
“Was any of that intelligible?” I inquired. He nodded.
“It was admirable, Bertie.”
I sniffed, looking the other way. Really, springing my nickname on me at a time like this… It was just cruel.
“Bertie.”
I shook my head. He was doing it on purpose, the fiend!
“Look at me.”
I complied. He kissed me, softly, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. I deepened the kiss, almost desperately. Eventually common sense kicked back in, reminding us both that we were outside.
“I wish you could’ve met them,” I murmured after we’d ‘come up for air,’ so to speak. My face was pressed into Jeeves’s shoulder. His right hand was resting on the back of my head, and his left arm was wrapped securely around me.
“As do I. May I make a suggestion?”
I nodded against him, sniffling.
“I cannot meet them in person, but we can achieve something similar.”
“What’s that?”
“You never talk about them, Bertie. I hardly know anything about them. Perhaps if you told me what you remember of them, it would both provide a better sense of closure for you, and get us as close as we will ever get to my knowing them.”
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try.” I looked up, still not pulling away. I must have been weeping, for the next thing I knew Jeeves’s hand was gently dashing tears away. I couldn’t help it: I laughed.
“I say, Jeeves, I’m behaving like a child. A female child, even.” I straightened up, swallowing, and managed a smile. “Let’s go back home. You can fix us something hot to drink and I’ll tell you what I can.”
I know this is in first person, but would you folks mind terribly if the next chapter is in 3rdP? I started writing it last night at about eleven, and it didn't occur to me until about half-way through that I was using the wrong POV.
~God Bless.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-02-27 08:16 pm (UTC)As it is, it's fluffy and angsty at the same time. Bertie going on about his parents, and wishing that Jeeves could have met them, but then going and visiting-it's sad and happy all at once, because it's Bertie admitting just how much he loves Jeeves, and how much he wants to be with Jeeves, in public even (sorta), but with that sting of not being able to jump up and shout it from the roof or even properly tell his parents, because he has no more parents to properly tell.
Very well done as it is, and I look forward to more.
no subject
Date: 2009-02-27 09:32 pm (UTC)The Lady 529
no subject
Date: 2009-02-27 11:04 pm (UTC)Only Jeeves could tell two rocks that we were lovers and actually sound respectable.
Ah Jeeves, there's no character quite like him.
I couldn't give two figs if you changed the POV, really XD
no subject
Date: 2009-02-27 11:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-28 12:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-28 09:16 am (UTC)I LOVE YOU.
*goes back to sobbing*
no subject
Date: 2009-02-28 10:23 am (UTC)*consoles*
no subject
Date: 2009-02-28 10:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-28 10:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-28 01:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-01 06:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-03 10:03 pm (UTC)POV bedamned! There must be more!
no subject
Date: 2009-03-14 05:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-15 01:07 am (UTC)*snaps out of it*
Thanks! Glad you liked it!
*...Faints*