Fic: Fire and Ice (PG-13)
Dec. 21st, 2010 11:53 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
hazeltea.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
indeedsir_backupPrompt fill! For ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
gunitneko , who wanted Viking Jeeves!
Pairing: Jeeves/Bertie
Disclaimer: I make no money from the lovely works of Wodehouse.
One thing they never tell you as a lad is just how heavy a sword really is, you know, or how dashed cold its handle is; how one’s fingers become painfully numb in the snow and make it dashed near impossible to hold, let alone wield. It was my father’s sword, I believe. This is why I knew that I must carry on, and face the threat before us. He’d have wanted it that way, you know.
I’d never been a violent sort of chap,now. While some brawl through life, creating rows and noise, I always preferred to settle my differences with a chat and a soothing drink. Oh, how nice a cup of tea would feel on my fingers right now! No time for that, what? Besides, I’d spill my tea all over this horse.
The enemy was approaching! Rough chaps they were, clad in furs, the skin that was exposed showing no symptoms of the frostbitten ache that I felt. Our men and theirs mingled freely now, and again, I felt that dread that comes of chaos. They were brawling all about me, and for a moment, I fancied that if I stood perfectly still, I’d cease to exist, and they would pass me by.
It was then that I saw him; the enemy, that is. He was a large, dark man, with pale skin and eyes like the stormy sea. There was something familiar about him, you see, but I couldn’t quite say what. He wore his armor and furs in a way that was almost regal, like a king among men. I stood still now, not because I wanted to disappear, but because I wanted to stay within his sight.
A glint of light caught my eye. One of my men approached us, his sword held high. He was going to bring it down on the enemy, on this paragon of a warrior!
“No!” I screamed, suddenly, and the man startled, and darted the blow. Things get a bit hazy here, but I don’t think what happened was pleasant enough to remember, so I should count my blessings, what?
When I awoke, I was aware of an ache in my chest, and a feeling of warmth. There was a fire. I could smell it, and feel its warmth, radiating towards me. There was something soft beneath me, like a pile of cats. Ah, it was only fur, blankets made of pelts soft as a lady’s shawl. Someone was stroking my hair. I blinked my eyes open, and before me was the heathen warrior.
“You are safe now, Bertram.” He began, lowering his fingers from my hair to my cheek.
“How… how do you speak my language?” I asked, feebly. “How do you know my name?”
“I think you will find, in time, that I know everything.” He grinned, in a knowing way that made my tum flip over.
“Oh.” I shifted, and winced.
“Your defenses have fallen.” The warrior continued. “You saved me, Bertram, and so I have spared you, in turn. Yet I lay claim to you, now. You are mine.”
His large, strong hands roamed my body, and I moaned as they pushed lower.
“Sir…”
I groaned, as the heat became too much to bear. I was on fire!
“Sir!”
A coolness seeped through me, starting from my head and slowly cooling me to my toes. Ice, I thought, it must be the ice where he lives, where he is taking me to live as his lover.
“Sir, listen to my voice. Open your eyes, sir.”
I had to obey, didn’t I? I opened my eyes, and blinked, unsure of where I was. There was something soft under me, to be sure, but it was not fur, but a blanket stuffed with down. There was a fire close by, I could hear the faint sound, but no open flame. And the lovely coolness was pressed to my forehead, and slightly damp.
“It is time to take your medicine, sir.” The voice said, gently.
“Ah.” I managed, through my confusion. Jeeves pressed a spoonful of the wretched stuff to my lips, and then offered me a chaser of water. He pulled back the heavy covers, and tucked the top sheet about me in its place.
“Dr. Collins believes that your fever should break by evening, sir.” He assured me. His eyes were so tired. His eyes… they were lovely. Like a cool, dark ocean which would be bliss to swim in. Oh. Oh, dear God. Jeeves.
“Rest now, sir.” He ordered, as he shimmied out of the room.
I took several deep breaths in turn, calming my pulse. I could blame my blushing on the fever for now, I thought, distantly, but what about next week, and the week after? I didn’t ponder my problem for long, though, since the medicine was so dashed potent. I slipped back under, wondering if I would dream.
gunitneko , who wanted Viking Jeeves! Pairing: Jeeves/Bertie
Disclaimer: I make no money from the lovely works of Wodehouse.
One thing they never tell you as a lad is just how heavy a sword really is, you know, or how dashed cold its handle is; how one’s fingers become painfully numb in the snow and make it dashed near impossible to hold, let alone wield. It was my father’s sword, I believe. This is why I knew that I must carry on, and face the threat before us. He’d have wanted it that way, you know.
I’d never been a violent sort of chap,now. While some brawl through life, creating rows and noise, I always preferred to settle my differences with a chat and a soothing drink. Oh, how nice a cup of tea would feel on my fingers right now! No time for that, what? Besides, I’d spill my tea all over this horse.
The enemy was approaching! Rough chaps they were, clad in furs, the skin that was exposed showing no symptoms of the frostbitten ache that I felt. Our men and theirs mingled freely now, and again, I felt that dread that comes of chaos. They were brawling all about me, and for a moment, I fancied that if I stood perfectly still, I’d cease to exist, and they would pass me by.
It was then that I saw him; the enemy, that is. He was a large, dark man, with pale skin and eyes like the stormy sea. There was something familiar about him, you see, but I couldn’t quite say what. He wore his armor and furs in a way that was almost regal, like a king among men. I stood still now, not because I wanted to disappear, but because I wanted to stay within his sight.
A glint of light caught my eye. One of my men approached us, his sword held high. He was going to bring it down on the enemy, on this paragon of a warrior!
“No!” I screamed, suddenly, and the man startled, and darted the blow. Things get a bit hazy here, but I don’t think what happened was pleasant enough to remember, so I should count my blessings, what?
When I awoke, I was aware of an ache in my chest, and a feeling of warmth. There was a fire. I could smell it, and feel its warmth, radiating towards me. There was something soft beneath me, like a pile of cats. Ah, it was only fur, blankets made of pelts soft as a lady’s shawl. Someone was stroking my hair. I blinked my eyes open, and before me was the heathen warrior.
“You are safe now, Bertram.” He began, lowering his fingers from my hair to my cheek.
“How… how do you speak my language?” I asked, feebly. “How do you know my name?”
“I think you will find, in time, that I know everything.” He grinned, in a knowing way that made my tum flip over.
“Oh.” I shifted, and winced.
“Your defenses have fallen.” The warrior continued. “You saved me, Bertram, and so I have spared you, in turn. Yet I lay claim to you, now. You are mine.”
His large, strong hands roamed my body, and I moaned as they pushed lower.
“Sir…”
I groaned, as the heat became too much to bear. I was on fire!
“Sir!”
A coolness seeped through me, starting from my head and slowly cooling me to my toes. Ice, I thought, it must be the ice where he lives, where he is taking me to live as his lover.
“Sir, listen to my voice. Open your eyes, sir.”
I had to obey, didn’t I? I opened my eyes, and blinked, unsure of where I was. There was something soft under me, to be sure, but it was not fur, but a blanket stuffed with down. There was a fire close by, I could hear the faint sound, but no open flame. And the lovely coolness was pressed to my forehead, and slightly damp.
“It is time to take your medicine, sir.” The voice said, gently.
“Ah.” I managed, through my confusion. Jeeves pressed a spoonful of the wretched stuff to my lips, and then offered me a chaser of water. He pulled back the heavy covers, and tucked the top sheet about me in its place.
“Dr. Collins believes that your fever should break by evening, sir.” He assured me. His eyes were so tired. His eyes… they were lovely. Like a cool, dark ocean which would be bliss to swim in. Oh. Oh, dear God. Jeeves.
“Rest now, sir.” He ordered, as he shimmied out of the room.
I took several deep breaths in turn, calming my pulse. I could blame my blushing on the fever for now, I thought, distantly, but what about next week, and the week after? I didn’t ponder my problem for long, though, since the medicine was so dashed potent. I slipped back under, wondering if I would dream.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-12-22 08:09 pm (UTC)