![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
tin-antiquity.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
indeedsir_backupI'VE DONE IT AGAIN.
Title: Jeeves and The Children's Charity Ball (Chapter 2)
Author: tin_antiquity
Pairing: Bertie/Jeeves
Rating: G? PG? I dunno. *shrug*
Words: 1300somethingsomething.
Summary: Bingo has fallen head over heels once again, and this time, it's Bertie's help he needs, no Jeeveses need apply. This necessitates wibble!Bertie, dance lessons and reminiscing.
Disclaimer: THEY STILL. AREN'T. MINE. DAMN IT ALL.
Author's Notes: This is my first sojourn into writing Jeeves and Wooster, so any constructive criticism is vastly helpful.
For all one of you who were waiting...
It was with a heavy heart that I slid the Wooster corpus underneath the covers. Jeeves wafted about the room, doing this and that, all with that same air of grace and general thingness he does everything with. I gave a hearty sigh, and was attempting to snuggle my way through the covers and into some dashed comfy sort of oblivion when a thought struck me. I resurfaced from my cocoon to find that Jeeves had shimmered to my bedside.
“I say, Jeeves, do you think I could ask you a favor?”
Jeeves raised one eyebrow, and his lips quirked upwards, as they are wont to do whenever he finds something amusing. I can’t say I know what was so amusing about asking one’s valet if one can ask one’s valet something, but then again anyone could tell you that Bertram is the last chap to pick up on whatever wheeze presents itself. I suddenly realized that my request would probably seem dashed silly, but I soldiered on.
“Do you think… Do you think you could get me some… some warm milk, Jeeves? I’m feeling rather nervous about the meeting with Bingo and co. tomorrow, and it always seems to do the trick re: butterflies in the tum.”
Something seemed to change about the configuration of the Jeeves phizog, but it was so brief, that I could only assume it was either a facial spasm, or that he was laughing at me. I didn’t quite want to dwell on either thought, as one doesn’t like to assume one’s valet is having some kind of seizure, nor does one like to think one is being laughed at, so simply I waited for him to say “Very good, sir,” and biff of to fetch the aforementioned refreshment.
“May I ask, sir, what it is that so troubles you in regards to your planned luncheon meeting with Mr. Little and Ms. Webley?”
I wasn’t quite expecting the question, and it caught me a bit off guard.
“Oh, I don’t really think it would interest you, Jeeves. I mean to say, it’s… well, it’s a rather silly reason, really.” I answered with what I hoped appeared to be a light chuckle.
However, as the sound escaped my lips, I realized it was quite a bit more like an anguished choking noise. On that note, Jeeves gave a mighty arch (it may have been half of an inch!) of his rather expressive left eyebrow and coughed into one delicately curled fist.
“As you say, sir. However, if you ever feel the need to share what anguishes you so, I would be more than willing to listen. Will that be all, sir?” He asked this in such a tone that he seemed to be daring me to say “Yes, Jeeves, now off to bed with you!” I looked at him for a moment before making my decision.
“It’s rather a personal matter, what this Gladys wants to question me about. It’s… it’s about my parents.” I swallowed thickly, and willed myself to continue. Stiff upper lip, Bertram! “About when they died. You see, She works with some sort of charity organization, supporting young children who’ve recently lost their own parents, and she wants me to say what I think they might need to raise their spirits, seeing as I was in similar circs. myself as a tyke, but, well… “
Now, I am somewhat ashamed to admit to the fact that there was a suspicious amount of moisture forming around the ocular region at this point. I mean, it is rather embarrassing to admit, seeing as Woosters most certainly do not cry. There was a Wooster at Agincourt, after all! I gave a hearty sniffle and continued.
“But… it hurts to remember, Jeeves. It hurts to think about it, about how much… how much I loved them, dash it! It’s all so very sad. I mean to say, when my mother passed away, I was shaken to the bally core! I ran away so many times that aunt Agatha wanted to have policemen stationed outside of my door. And then, after my father… Oh, Lord, I…”
I rather tapered off at this point, seeing as the water works in progress made speaking rather difficult. I felt such a fool at that moment, bawling like a tot in front of Jeeves, calm, cool, unflappable Jeeves. I’m certain he hadn’t wanted to hear me sobbing like a child, but I found I couldn’t stop the baby blues from running like a leaky faucet. I had tried for so long not to think about my parents, for fear that just such an event would occur, but it seemed fate was having a rather nice lark at Bertram’s expense.
I attempted to collect my marbles, which were currently scattered all over the proverbial floor, before apologizing.
“Oh, dash it, Jeeves! I’m sorry. I know I must seem rather foolish right now, what? You can forget about the milk, Jeeves. I don’t want to hold you from your own well deserved forty winks any longer.” I said sheepishly, looking up at my man with regret. The site that met my eyes was something of a shock, so I must warn that you brace yourself, reader, for what I am about to recount to you will shock you, too, and will likely instill a sense of deep concern for a certain paragon’s well being.
Jeeves was looking down at me from his spot next to the bed, and what I saw in his eyes made me rather nervous. There was such a look of pity in those blue orbs of his, that it nearly overrode the ever-present gleam of intelligence that usually resided there. All I could see was sadness, and it suddenly registered that that sadness he held in his eyes was for me.
Well, now, what does one say to that?
Luckily, I didn’t have to say anything, as Jeeves opened his mouth to speak. Dashed odd, isn’t it, how Jeeves always knows what I need without being given even the smallest?
“Sir,” he began in a shaky tone the likes of witch I have never heard escape his lips, “If at any time during your meeting with Miss
Wembley tomorrow you feel your self unable to continue recounting your past, then you only need excuse yourself, and I will see that she and Mr. Little are escorted out of the flat. You mustn’t feel pressured to share these details of your life if it makes you overly uncomfortable, sir.” He paused here and gave me a rather searing look. “If you feel at all distressed, then do not hesitate to tell me. Please promise this to me, sir.”
I swallowed heavily as I tried to comprehend all of what Jeeves
said. There was a lot of whirring and buzzing in the old onion as things sort of tumbled about. I was still at a loss for words, so I did the only thing I could think of at the time; I grabbed for Jeeves’ hand, but instead ended up gripping his knee. I was in such a state that I just resigned myself to sort of awkwardly clutching at his knee in thanks. I felt him reach a hand down to pat at my shoulder, and I responded with a muffled “Thank you, Jeeves.”
It was with some reluctance that I released his kneecaps ---rather nice kneecaps, they are, sturdy and not at all knobbly— and gave him a watery smile.
“Shall I fetch you the milk, sir?” He asked with just a hint of a ghost of a shadow of smile.
“I think I’ll be fine, Jeeves. Thank you.”
“Very good, sir.” And with that, he shimmered away, leaving me to find sleep, and I must say that no amount of warm dairy could ever hope to quell the rumbling in my tum quite like Jeeves could just be being near.
With a soft and not at all girlish sigh, I slipped into the comforting, black clad arms of Morpheus, wondering vaguely if the chap ever might have donned a bowler hat.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-08-20 07:42 am (UTC)*snuggles him all up*
no subject
Date: 2010-08-20 08:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-20 08:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-20 07:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-21 05:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-20 01:42 pm (UTC)And I love the last line! Morpheus in a bowler hat, that was really nice.
no subject
Date: 2010-08-20 07:40 pm (UTC)thanks for the morpheus comment! I think Morpheus in a bowler is badass.
no subject
Date: 2010-08-21 03:33 am (UTC)