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indeedsir_backupHi. I'm Kate. I lurk a lot. I'm creepy like that. This was written for a friend's challenge, and I thought maybe someone here would enjoy it. It's not very long, and it's entirely goofy, but it was fun. Whoa, super nervous. :)
Title: Piano Lessons
Fandom: Jeeves & Wooster
Rating: G {I know, right? What?}
Pairing: Sweetly angsty tension between Bertie/Jeeves?
Summary: Prompt from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
quichey: Thunderous.
Words: 909
Disclaimer: Bertie, Jeeves and Wodehouse's world{s} are so not mine, no matter how hard I wish they were. I'm just playing in the sandbox.
Bertie's heart sounded positively thunderous in his ears, racing like a thoroughly cropped horse -- probably named Water Biscuit, or J.F. Forkerson, or something silly like that -- as it sprang out of the gates. Jeeves had seemingly shimmered across the space between them and swooped in over Bertie's shoulders, one long, crisply black-clad arm on either side. He placed his hands atop Bertie's on the piano keys. A depressing, yet somewhat surprised, flat note sounded at his jump, but Jeeves did not appear to him to notice either the thunder, the frightened rabbit routine, or that Bertie had turned into a plate of beets, both in colour and in substance.
A sheep on a distant hill cleared its throat. Bertie practically slid off the bench. He'd forgotten he was even sitting on one.
"If I may be so bold, sir, I believe that Chopin meant for his Nocturne in C Minor to start a little lower than you are attempting to play it. It may be more pleasing to you, as such."
Bertie wasn't sure, but he thought that perhaps lightning had just stuck somewhere inside 3A Berkeley Mansions, Berkeley Square, London W1. He would have sniffed for smoke, but all he could smell was Brilliantine, lemons, and gaspers, with an underlying whatsit of minty-ness. It was so bally corking that he completely forget to run for the fire escape, though he wasn't sure he wouldn't have just tumbled down the steps had he done so.
"Er. Yes. Well. Dash it all. Thank you, Jeeves. You're right, of course. It's much, much better your way. Don't know what I was thinking," he said, finding himself suddenly alone on the bench again. The thunder continued to roll a slow, steady hum. He was certain that, at any moment, his heart would leap to its untimely death, and dash itself against a piano wire, before landing somewhere inside the cage of the piano proper.
"I endeavour to provide satisfaction, sir."
Bertie cleared his throat. He felt a bit like he'd swallowed one of Gussie Fink-Nottle's newts. Alive. "I wonder."
"Sir?"
"Oh, nothing, Jeeves. Nothing. Would you pour me a b. and s., light on the s.?"
"Very good, sir."
Bertie took this distraction to check for burns in the carpet. He didn't see any, which didn't really surprise him. He was curled over the edge of the armchair trying to get a peek between it and a three foot brass elephant when he heard another sheep with a burgeoning case of influenza.
Jeeves had apparently shimmered back, and was attempting to hand him his b. and s., so he took it with a smile and downed it in one shot. A Jeevesian eyebrow arched 1/96th of a centimetre. "Is everything all right, sir? Have you lost something perhaps?"
"Oh, er, yes. I mean, no. I was just checking the carpet."
"Checking the carpet, sir? May I inquire as to why?"
Bertie pinched his nose to hide an embarrassed cringe. "Oh, I fancied there might be a hole somewhere."
"A hole, sir? I should have noticed a hole, I should think." He leaned over to where Bertie had been looking, brushing slightly against Bertie's arm in the process. Bertie nearly threw his glass in the air.
"Well, yes. You probably would have, Jeeves. Nothing gets past you."
Bertie shifted uncomfortably, backing into the chesterfield, and managing to drop his glass properly this time, as he himself spilled over the back and landed in a puddle of beets on the cushions. Jeeves, being Jeeves, deftly caught the glass before it could spill a drop on the immaculate upholstery, placing it on a silver salver he conjured up from somewhere, and he helped Bertie back on to his feet.
Not seeming to notice anything amiss about this sort of behaviour, Jeeves said, "Indeed it does not, sir. It is my duty to silently observe my surroundings."
"All of them, Jeeves?" Bertie said, fighting a losing battle with the stuffing of one blue striped tie into the dove grey wool of his waistcoat. He floundered ridiculously, before giving up.
"All of them, sir." Jeeves had the tie under control in a matter of seconds, brushing invisible lint off of it, and straightening the lapels of Bertie's jacket, while Bertie stood there practically bouncing up and down. "Would you care for another drink, sir? Perhaps it would settle your nerves. You seem slightly on edge, sir, if you'll pardon the observation."
"Uh, no. Thank you. I think I'll have a bit of a lie-down. I'm coming over a bit peculiar."
"As you say, sir. Dinner will be ready around six. I shall wake you when it is time."
"Thank you, Jeeves. That will do just fine. Well, er, toodle-pip, then!"
"I hope that you will rest well, sir."
~*~
Bertie practically ran to the master bedroom. Unfortunately, this meant that he missed the corners of Jeeves' mouth ever-so slightly turning up, which was a very rare thing, indeed.
"Of course I notice everything," Jeeves mumbled quietly, with a certain smugness to it, as he balanced the silver salver with the empty glass on it in one hand, and, with the other, closed the piano and ran his fingers across its lid slowly. "Why else would I endeavour to "teach" him how to play the piano when I can hardly play Chopsticks?"
The kitchen door swooshed closed behind his retreating form. Tomorrow, he thought, he would attempt to teach Bertie to slice a lemon. That should take a lot of practice. He began to search for the plasters in anticipation.
Title: Piano Lessons
Fandom: Jeeves & Wooster
Rating: G {I know, right? What?}
Pairing: Sweetly angsty tension between Bertie/Jeeves?
Summary: Prompt from
quichey: Thunderous. Words: 909
Disclaimer: Bertie, Jeeves and Wodehouse's world{s} are so not mine, no matter how hard I wish they were. I'm just playing in the sandbox.
Bertie's heart sounded positively thunderous in his ears, racing like a thoroughly cropped horse -- probably named Water Biscuit, or J.F. Forkerson, or something silly like that -- as it sprang out of the gates. Jeeves had seemingly shimmered across the space between them and swooped in over Bertie's shoulders, one long, crisply black-clad arm on either side. He placed his hands atop Bertie's on the piano keys. A depressing, yet somewhat surprised, flat note sounded at his jump, but Jeeves did not appear to him to notice either the thunder, the frightened rabbit routine, or that Bertie had turned into a plate of beets, both in colour and in substance.
A sheep on a distant hill cleared its throat. Bertie practically slid off the bench. He'd forgotten he was even sitting on one.
"If I may be so bold, sir, I believe that Chopin meant for his Nocturne in C Minor to start a little lower than you are attempting to play it. It may be more pleasing to you, as such."
Bertie wasn't sure, but he thought that perhaps lightning had just stuck somewhere inside 3A Berkeley Mansions, Berkeley Square, London W1. He would have sniffed for smoke, but all he could smell was Brilliantine, lemons, and gaspers, with an underlying whatsit of minty-ness. It was so bally corking that he completely forget to run for the fire escape, though he wasn't sure he wouldn't have just tumbled down the steps had he done so.
"Er. Yes. Well. Dash it all. Thank you, Jeeves. You're right, of course. It's much, much better your way. Don't know what I was thinking," he said, finding himself suddenly alone on the bench again. The thunder continued to roll a slow, steady hum. He was certain that, at any moment, his heart would leap to its untimely death, and dash itself against a piano wire, before landing somewhere inside the cage of the piano proper.
"I endeavour to provide satisfaction, sir."
Bertie cleared his throat. He felt a bit like he'd swallowed one of Gussie Fink-Nottle's newts. Alive. "I wonder."
"Sir?"
"Oh, nothing, Jeeves. Nothing. Would you pour me a b. and s., light on the s.?"
"Very good, sir."
Bertie took this distraction to check for burns in the carpet. He didn't see any, which didn't really surprise him. He was curled over the edge of the armchair trying to get a peek between it and a three foot brass elephant when he heard another sheep with a burgeoning case of influenza.
Jeeves had apparently shimmered back, and was attempting to hand him his b. and s., so he took it with a smile and downed it in one shot. A Jeevesian eyebrow arched 1/96th of a centimetre. "Is everything all right, sir? Have you lost something perhaps?"
"Oh, er, yes. I mean, no. I was just checking the carpet."
"Checking the carpet, sir? May I inquire as to why?"
Bertie pinched his nose to hide an embarrassed cringe. "Oh, I fancied there might be a hole somewhere."
"A hole, sir? I should have noticed a hole, I should think." He leaned over to where Bertie had been looking, brushing slightly against Bertie's arm in the process. Bertie nearly threw his glass in the air.
"Well, yes. You probably would have, Jeeves. Nothing gets past you."
Bertie shifted uncomfortably, backing into the chesterfield, and managing to drop his glass properly this time, as he himself spilled over the back and landed in a puddle of beets on the cushions. Jeeves, being Jeeves, deftly caught the glass before it could spill a drop on the immaculate upholstery, placing it on a silver salver he conjured up from somewhere, and he helped Bertie back on to his feet.
Not seeming to notice anything amiss about this sort of behaviour, Jeeves said, "Indeed it does not, sir. It is my duty to silently observe my surroundings."
"All of them, Jeeves?" Bertie said, fighting a losing battle with the stuffing of one blue striped tie into the dove grey wool of his waistcoat. He floundered ridiculously, before giving up.
"All of them, sir." Jeeves had the tie under control in a matter of seconds, brushing invisible lint off of it, and straightening the lapels of Bertie's jacket, while Bertie stood there practically bouncing up and down. "Would you care for another drink, sir? Perhaps it would settle your nerves. You seem slightly on edge, sir, if you'll pardon the observation."
"Uh, no. Thank you. I think I'll have a bit of a lie-down. I'm coming over a bit peculiar."
"As you say, sir. Dinner will be ready around six. I shall wake you when it is time."
"Thank you, Jeeves. That will do just fine. Well, er, toodle-pip, then!"
"I hope that you will rest well, sir."
~*~
Bertie practically ran to the master bedroom. Unfortunately, this meant that he missed the corners of Jeeves' mouth ever-so slightly turning up, which was a very rare thing, indeed.
"Of course I notice everything," Jeeves mumbled quietly, with a certain smugness to it, as he balanced the silver salver with the empty glass on it in one hand, and, with the other, closed the piano and ran his fingers across its lid slowly. "Why else would I endeavour to "teach" him how to play the piano when I can hardly play Chopsticks?"
The kitchen door swooshed closed behind his retreating form. Tomorrow, he thought, he would attempt to teach Bertie to slice a lemon. That should take a lot of practice. He began to search for the plasters in anticipation.
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Date: 2011-11-14 06:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-14 06:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-14 06:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-14 06:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-14 07:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-14 07:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-14 07:09 am (UTC)*cue Castle Anthrax scene*
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Date: 2011-11-15 03:08 am (UTC)We need more of Chuffing's writings in this fandom!
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Date: 2011-11-15 03:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-15 04:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-15 03:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-15 11:32 pm (UTC)Pour, my smutty minions, pour!
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Date: 2011-11-14 07:14 am (UTC)Thank you for sharing it, it's wonderful!
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Date: 2011-11-14 08:13 pm (UTC)Thanks for commenting!
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Date: 2011-11-14 08:42 am (UTC)Love the ending.
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Date: 2011-11-14 08:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-14 01:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-14 08:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-14 04:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-14 08:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-15 03:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-15 03:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-15 03:51 pm (UTC)Also, this is a little off topic, but I love your . . . LJ username icon (I'm sure there must be an official name for those)? The little face with the curly mustache next to the name "chuffing" gets me every time. XD
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Date: 2011-11-15 03:54 pm (UTC)Hah, thanks. I couldn't resist it. It looks to me like Eugene Hutz.