indeedsir_backup | (no subject)

sunsetsinthewes.livejournal.com posting in

Why yes, this is my first fic. Have to start somewhere, right? I'm not entirely sure what this is, but I do know that the late hour might have something to so with things. Any comments are appreciated, especially about the voices and characterization.

Title: Only Once
Pairing: Too short for anything beyond friendship.
Summary: Bertie's birthday fast approaches, leading him to a discovery.
Rating: G
Words: 540
Disclaimer: None of this is mine.

***

"Jeeves," I said, entering the kitchen where my man stood taking care of the remnants of my late breakfast. "Jeeves, we're off."

"Off, sir?"

"Yes, off. Aunt Dahlia's written as you no doubt know, having handed me the telegram yourself. She's invited us to join them for a birthday luncheon celebrating yours truly." I hesitated, eyes on the telegram in hand. A long forgotten cog in the back of one Bertram's head began to turn, creaking through the rust. Well, not literally, of course. Just using one of those stylistic meta-whatsits.

"How considerate of Mrs. Travers, sir," Jeeves replied, seamlessly finishing one chore and moving onto the next.

I lifted the telegram in a gesture. "The aged a. claims it's the least she can do, you know. Rather spiffing of her, I agree, but I suppose one does only turn twenty-five once, doesn't one?"

So quietly that I nearly missed it, Jeeves let out a small, "Mmm."

Well now, that did it. It may not seem like much to you, dear reader, but having spent year after year with the man at my side, I could tell when an "Mmm" meant more than just "Mmm". Purposely setting the telegram aside, I straightened my shoulders and took in a breath.

"Jeeves, I was wondering if I might offer up a request for that fish-fed brain of yours." Without waiting for an answer, I continued. "You see, I find myself in a rather rummy-- no, the rummiest sitch. As you know, the quarter-centennial fast approaches and I'm beginning to feel a rather familiar feeling about the whole thing."

"Déjà vu, sir?"

I shook my head. "No, thank you, I just ate." At this, he raised an eyebrow a minuscule amount. "I tell you, there's something about this whole affair and I just can't put my finger on it. I beginning to feel as of you might need to send me off to Roderick Glossop." There was no turning back at that point, so I charged forward. "Tell me, Jeeves, and I demand complete honesty. No letting the old feudal spirit hold you back. Since you've been in my employ, how many quarter-centennials have you seen the young master through?"

He paused, as if to think for a moment. "I believe this will be the sixty-third, sir."

Eyes widening, I goggled at him. "Really, that many? My, you'd think I might be an old man by now. Do people often celebrate sixty-three twenty-fifth birthdays?"

"Not that I've been led to believe, sir."

I let this stew for a moment before another thought hit me. "Jeeves, do you think we might one day ring in the new decade? Not that this hasn't been a very nice one, as decades go. But who can say that the next won't be just as nice, what? It does approach, doesn't it?"

Eyes meeting mine, Jeeves carefully replied, "I couldn't say, sir."

"Right." Sighing, shoulders slumped in defeat, I nodded. It seemed best to let the topic rest for the time being and I turned to leave the room. "We'll leave for Brinkley Court in the ack emma. I should like to wear my new violet ascot to the luncheon so make sure it's packed."

"Certainly, sir."

***