indeedsir_backup | & {J&W ficlet} Sticky Wicket Isn't Cricket

Title: Sticky Wicket Isn't Cricket
Fandom: Jeeves & Wooster
Rating: G-PG-Idk
Pairing: Bertie/Jeeves implications.
Summary: Bertie asks questions. Jeeves knows all the answers. He may eventually share some of them, too.
Notes: I'm continuing to fill prompts from this meme I'm involved in. I may never be done. This could have been better, but I'm super, duper tired. I gave it my best shot. Prompt from

tipgardner: Sticky wicket/insanity
Words: 1005
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.

"I say, Jeeves. What exactly is a sticky wicket?" Bertie asked, his nose all scrunched up so that he could see the pitch a bit more clearly. He didn't really understand cricket, no matter how much he tried to, and he was beginning to worry that he was making Jeeves quite cross with all his inquiries as to the inner workings of the game.

Jeeves, however, remained calm as always, answering his every question with great detail and interest, feigned or not.

"A sticky wicket, sir, also known as the sticky dog or glue pot, refers to the condition in which the pitch, or field of play, is affected by rain and sun, increasing the chances of the ball bouncing unpredictably. When the pitch becomes wet as such, it becomes increasingly difficult to bat properly as it begins to dry out."

"Is that all? That doesn't sound very, well, sporting of the pitch, does it, Jeeves? What with the ball bouncing all about the place, I imagine it's not really cricket, then, now is it?" Bertie looked perplexed.

"Indeed not, sir. They do say that sticky wicket isn't cricket."

"I just said that, Jeeves," Bertie just said.

Jeeves politely cleared his throat of an errant blade of grass or some such.

"No, sir. You misunderstand me. I meant to say that there is a popular phrase, "Sticky wicket isn't cricket", which, I believe, is meant to convey the idea that something is contrary to traditional standards of fairness. Or, if you prefer, a situation in which things are quite difficult, or not quite sporting, as you said, sir."

"Ah! I see, I see. Well, not being bally sporting isn't, well, very sporting of a chap, is it?"

"Indeed not, sir."

"In fact, Jeeves," Bertie said, looking ever more serious, "it would take a rather rude bird to not play fair. Not very preux chevalier of them, I mean. We Woosters have a code to live up to, after all."

"As you say, sir."

Bertie went back to squinting, leaning quite far over, and, before he knew it, Jeeves was catching him as he was about to topple down the stands and land on a few young ladies that looked ripe with the desire to mold a chap. Bertie looked somewhere between grateful and terrified as Jeeves' arms remained around him for a minute or so, presumably making certain that he was in control of his balance. There was only about a good two to three inches between them, and Bertie found himself staring directly into Jeeves' dark blue eyes. A Jeevesian eyebrow lifted ever so slightly. Bertie suddenly realised that they were in an awkward sort of embrace, and he cleared his throat and wriggled free of Jeeves' hold.

"Thank you, Jeeves. You've, er, saved the young master once again."

"You're most welcome, sir. It would have been most distressing for you to fall. I shouldn't have liked to see you hurt yourself, sir."

Bertie continued to stare off and on for the next few minutes. There was an odd twinkle in Jeeves' eye that Bertie knew from experience meant that he was secretly amused about something. He looked away finally, finding his face to be rapidly warming, and he knew that a blush was creeping up his cheeks. He wasn't quite sure why, but a few ideas were springing to mind with an alarming speed.

The match eventually ended during his musings, and, when he finally looked again, Jeeves appeared to be waiting for him to descend the stands. Walking not falling, of course.

"Sir? Would you like me to bring the two-seater around?"

"Yes, Jeeves," he said, shifting around a bit, and gripping his whangee tightly. "That's a sound idea."

"Did you enjoy the match, sir?"

"I did. I did, Jeeves. Perhaps you could educate Bertram a bit more about wickets and stickys and whatsits on the drive back to the metrop.. It seems, as always, that you know quite a bit more than I do."

"Very well, sir. I would find it a pleasure to educate you on anything that you asked of me, that I was capable of educating you on, of course." The twinkle became twinklier. "I shall presently return with the car, if you would care to wait just over there, sir."

"Oh, erm. Well. Spiffing, Jeeves." Bertie felt that there was an underlying meaning that he was failing to grasp. He could suddenly think of a few things that he wished for Jeeves to educate him on. Well, he wasn't sure where those sorts of ideas had come from, but they were simply rolling in like the tides. He reckoned that being encased like a nervous sausage in Jeeves' arms hadn't hurt the old s. of imagination.

He must find out what that twinkle was all about. He decided that he would ask Jeeves to drive, and would take the opportunity to look just a bit closer during the ride back to the metrop.. Failing elucidation, he could always try to fall again. He was quite good at doing just that, and rarely had to try to do so. After all, it couldn't hurt to stumble over an end table once they got back to the flat. Perhaps he could get closer to those inquisitive blue eyes again just to be sure that he wasn't imagining things. He thought that it probably wasn't quite "cricket" to trick Jeeves like that, but he'd be insane to not try it out, at the very least.

Bertie smiled brightly and crawled into the car. Or, at least, that was his intention. He more tumbled into the passenger seat. Jeeves nearly smiled at him, but just nearly.

"If you don't mind my saying so, sir, perhaps you could have a nice lie-down once we arrive home. I wouldn't mind continuing our discussion on the finer points of cricket from the chair in your bedroom, if that would be more comfortable for you."

Yes, Bertie thought, it would be quite comfortable indeed to talk in his bedroom. Maybe he could direct his fall to the bed. He wondered if Jeeves would try to catch him again, then. Maybe they could both fall down. This was shaping up to be a very corking idea. He couldn't wait to get home.

"That would be bally marvellous, Jeeves. Onwards home, old thing."

"Very good, sir."