fic: "Jeeves and the Practical Demonstration" J/W [PG-13]

[nualanightbloom.livejournal.com]

My first Jeeves fanfic! Be gentle, I'm as jumpy as a Glossop patriarch in a roomful of cats.

Title: Jeeves and the Practical Demonstration
Author: Nuala
Pairing: Jeeves/Wooster
Rating: hard-ish PG-13
Summary: A missing chapter, assuming that Bertie opts for the milk train rather than confronting the formidable Aunt Agatha at the end of "The Mating Season."
Warnings: Ostensibly, none.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Thanks: Humble gratitude and chocolate cake to blandine, privatetentacle and obscuranb for the aural beta. This is dedicated to peak_in_darien, whether she wants it or not.
A/N: I blame peak_in_darien. And Hugh Laurie, and Stephen Fry. In that order. P.G. Wodehouse -- God rest his soul -- is entirely blameless. I never, ever would have slashed these two, and I slash everyone. But then came Hugh and Stephen, too adorable for words, in the television series. I love them now as I loved them then, but I still wouldn't have slashed them. I think. At any rate, more recently I ran across peak_in_darien through the House fandom. I was quickly seduced to the dark side. All I can say in my defence is at least it's not RPS. Yet.
As a further note, I am aware that my prose style is nowhere near as fabulously brilliant as Wodehouse's. This is but a pale imitation of the master. Any criticism, the nitpickier the better, on language or tone would be very muchly appreciated.

***

The affair at Deverill Hall having been concluded satisfactorily on all counts, it was a distinctly chipper Bertram Wooster riding forth on the two-fifty-four milk train. Having escaped by the skin of one's teeth from betrothal to one Madeline Bassett will do wonders for a chap's constitution, despite the rather abrupt nature of one's departure. I had gotten, post-haste, quite over the ridiculous notion of giving Aunt Agatha the old Childe Roland treatment. After all, I had not the distinct advantage enjoyed by Esmond Haddock in his battle charge, that being the sensational effects of popular acclamation leading to a rather peppery outlook re one's aunts. With this lack in mind, I submitted to Jeeves's guidance and beat a hasty retreat from what was, ultimately, a lost cause. A Wooster never retreats, but oftentimes a strategic withdrawal in the face of certain defeat is the wisest choice.

The voyage back to one's own hearth, particularly after strenuous trials, is always restorative. Despite the late hour, and my unceremonious departure, I was cheered by contemplating the warm bed awaiting its master's return, the nightcap to hasten the sleep that knitteth up the ravelled sleeve of care, and the renewed attentions of Jeeves after his brief stint as Gussie's man.

That thought brought my happy reflections to a quick stop. Jeeves, of course, would not arrive until tomorrow. Until then, the tender care of yours truly would be entirely self-provided. While it was a sight better than having Catsmeat attending me, as I could personally witness, it was still a sore blow to realize that I would have to spend one more day without Jeeves. The man is dashed handy to have around, and I found myself missing him with the yearning of the hart for crystal waters.

By the time the train rolled into the station, I had managed to rally my spirits sufficiently to hie myself into a cab with as much pep and vigour as could be expected of a man just off the milk train out of Deverill hall.

As anyone can tell you who's been on the front lines of the war between the sexes, a tired warrior is suceptible to wild flights of fancy. Seeing things that aren't really there, you understand. Not an enjoyable experience, but one a seasoned warrior such as Bertram Wooster can generally handle. Still, it gave me a terrific start to see, from the back of the cab, Tuppy Glossop on an out-of-the-way street corner. Ordinarily, the sight of a fellow Drone on a London street would hardly be remarkable. It was still an obscenely early hour, of course, but many Drone missions hinge on an element of surprise attainable only by action at unusual hours.

No, the startling, might I say shocking thing about Tuppy's being on a street corner at this ungodly hour was the company he was keeping. And by 'company,' I mean a strapping young man in a smoking jacket. And by 'keeping,' I suppose I really mean 'locked in the kind of tender embrace which young men typically reserve for young ladies.'

They were half in shadow, but the singular shape of Tuppy's head is unmistakeable to an observant eye. Moreover, I recognized his blue suit and red waistcoat which I have heard Jeeves sigh over many a time when their paths chanced to cross. He was pressed into his young man with a passion I have seldom seen, despite my own frequent forays into the realm of romance.

If you had said, at that moment, that B. Wooster was one utterly and completely flabbergasted bird, you wouldn't have been far off. I believe my lower jaw actually connected with the floor of the cab as we drove past that shadowy corner. The mind reeled, and continued to reel as I pulled up, hoofed it up to the flat, and seated myself on the chesterfield with a hefty nightcap in hand.

The reeling did not cease until many more nightcaps had been quaffed. In fact, I believe the reeling stubbornly kept right on until I had crept onto the bed and nodded off.

Now typically, when sleep comes about because of a friendly relationship with strong drink just before the Sandman's arrival, I sleep undisturbed by dreams. Not so much as a ripple to interrupt the needful slumber, and I have to say that's the way I like it. When one sleeps, one wants to rest, you see, not be the leading man in a bunch of nonsense plays on the stage of one's sleeping mind.

Alas, tonight was not a night for the rest and restoration of the Wooster mind. I can only suppose that the odd vision of Tuppy and that young man on the street corner, combined the excitement of the last few days, had roused my brains to the point where they simply weren't willing to say, 'Well, my dear Bertie, you've certainly earned your forty winks tonight, we'll just let you alone until well after noon.' Instead, the fevered mind made a continuous parade of the most outlandish and arousing images. Decency forbids me to mention the details of said images, which would cause the most hardened sailor to blush like a young bride. All I need mention is that they involved one Bertram Wooster in similar circs to those in which I had seen Tuppy Glossop a few hours prior to the head hitting the pillow. Not at all, in other words, the long and healing rest I so sorely needed.

I believe I tossed and turned, shunning the horrid daylight and bemoaning the existence of my own brain (feeble as it is), for many hours before Jeeves finally arrived with the heavy luggage. I first became aware of his presence when he shimmered into the room with a Good Morning Sir and one of his marvellous morning-after draughts. I was almost tempted, for the first time ever, not to partake. Now you may be saying to yourself, 'What kind of supreme ass would refuse Jeeves's famous resorative upon waking after a night of traditional indulgence?' Truly, there is a first time for everything, and I can only say that I had no desire to clarify the image of Tuppy's Greek embrace in my mercifully opaque memory.

Still, in a moment of weakness, I downed it in one gulp. Sometimes the comfort of the body wins out over the peace of the mind.

After the usual starts and stops brought on by the draught, it all came rushing back, of course. My eyes nearly boggled right on out of their sockets, a thing which has seldom happened to me even before my morning tea. Jeeves, being a powerfully observant fellow, noted my distress immediately.

'Is something the matter, sir?'

'I should say something's the matter, Jeeves!' I replied with unaccustomed gusto.

'Indeed, sir?'

I frowned. 'Of all the times you have said "Indeed, sir" to me, Jeeves, this is above and beyond the most inappropriate. I am, in fact, hanging onto my hard-won sanity by a thread, and all you can say is "Indeed, sir"?'

'My apologies, sir. I was reflecting on the positive outcome of the Deverill hall affairs, and was under the impression that all had fallen in your favour. Might I inquire, sir, as to the nature of your current mental turbulence?'

'Well you might inquire, Jeeves! Do you know what I saw as I was driving home?'

'I'm afraid not, sir.'

'I should say not. On the way home, I saw -- you might want to sit down for this, Jeeves.'

'I prefer to remain upright, sir, if you don't mind.'

'Well, don't blame me if your knees give right out, then.'

'Certainly not, sir.'

'All right then. Here it goes: last night I saw… Tuppy Glossop,' I said, conferring the name with an ominous tone I'd only ever used for the blighter's father.

'Most alarming, sir.'

'No, no, Jeeves! You are deliberately misunderstanding me.'

'My apologies, sir.'

'Now pay attention, and I really must add that one ought to be seated for this kind of revelation. Last night I saw Tuppy Glossop standing on a street corner, and he was…' Now here was where the famed Wooster wit failed me, and I found myself at a complete loss for words. How to put into civilized terms what I'd seen? More to the point, how to do it so as to not shock Jeeves, not frail soul by any stretch of the imagination, but whose sensibilities might well be mortally scandalized by the mere mention of Tuppy's unmentionable indiscretion?

I glanced at Jeeves. It really would not do to shock him into a fit of apoplexy. The mind reels to consider someone as sensitive as Jeeves in the care of a sour old nerve doctor like Sir Roderick Glossop, which was surely the fate awaiting him if I didn't go about this the right way. My normal course of action in situations like these, that is to say, consulting Jeeves and relying on his typically flawless proposals, was obviously out of the question. Well, the Wooster wit is famed for a reason, and it was going to take every scrap of mental power at my disposal to come up with a solution.

'Sir?' Jeeves asked. He is normally the very picture of patience itself, but I could see that waiting to hear the dreadful thing I was about to tell him was testing him.

'Patience, Jeeves,' I advised. 'Trust me, you don't want this kind of thing introduced to you abruptly.'

'If you'll allow it, sir, I believe myself to be equal to any revelation you might have concerning Mr Glossop,' Jeeves said in a queer tone of voice.

'I say, Jeeves, that's rather hasty of you. This thing… that is to say, what Tuppy was up to… well, it's rather shocking,' I told him.

'Perhaps if you were to tell me, sir,' Jeeves said, rather pointedly, I thought, 'it would bring you some relief.'

'Well, it's not myself I'm worried about, now is it?' I asked. 'This is for your benefit, Jeeves, not my own comfort. It would make me much happier to just forget the matter entirely.'

'If you feel that way, sir, perhaps you ought not say anything,' Jeeves suggested.

'No, Jeeves, I think I am in more desperate need of your advice than ever,' I replied. 'I simply don't know how I shall ever face Tuppy again in light of… that is to say… what he was doing…'

'Sir?'

I frowned. 'You know, Jeeves, I am always quick with words.'

'Yes, sir.'

'And yet here I find myself at an utter loss! There are quite simply no words to describe what I saw Tuppy doing. It's really rather maddening.'

'I see, sir. Perhaps you could show me what he was doing, sir?'

'Show you? Good God, Jeeves!' I sputtered. 'That you would even suggest such a thing implies that you have absolutely no idea whatsoever as to the nature of what I saw Tuppy doing.'

'Indeed, sir,' Jeeves said in a strange tone, as though he didn't quite believe me.

'I tell you, Jeeves, your mind, sharp as it is, would boggle at the very suggestion.'

'I doubt that, sir.'

'Jeeves, you know not of what you speak.'

'I find speech to be a rather limited mode of communication in situations like this, sir.'

'Are you saying you want me to show you what Tuppy was doing?'

'I believe it would promote a greater understanding of your situation, sir, and this would allow me to serve you as best I can.'

There are times when I am convinced that Jeeves's wonderful brain is simply not worth putting up with his stubbornness. I was of half a mind to take up arms over it right then and there, and let him know that he was right out of line. It has often been said of Bertie Wooster that he is as bold as brass when it comes to upholding the feudal spirit, and he is not the kind of soft, stupid gentleman who is ruled by his butler. However, the hour was still exceedingly early, all things considered, and it had been a rather rough and startling night. One could tell that Jeeves was not prepared to back down without a prolonged verbal duel, and I chose at that moment to fly the white flag and oblige him.

No doubt I would regret it when Jeeves swooned from the shock and I would be forced to fetch the smelling-salts from the kitchen myself.

'Very well, Jeeves,' I said, 'you shall have your demonstration. Come here.'

'Here, sir?'

'Closer, right next to the bed. There you are.' I hauled my poor carcass out of the tangled sheets. I noticed Jeeves casting his eye over the master's clothes, the same suit he had been wearing when departing Deverill Hall the night prior. 'Never mind my clothes, Jeeves, let's just get this over with.'

'Yes, sir.'

'So, I saw Tuppy last night, standing on a street corner with a young man, and he was… well, he was doing this.' I put my arms around Jeeves's shoulders with some difficulty. He is remarkably tall and broad.

'Was this all Mr Glossop was doing, sir?'

'Not exactly, Jeeves.'

'Perhaps you ought to show me exactly what you witnessed, sir,' Jeeves said. 'If my perception is incomplete, then I will be in less of a position to advise you on dealing with Mr Glossop in the future.'

'I suppose you're right, as usual. Well, then.' I clasped Jeeves to my chest just as I'd seen Tuppy and his paramour doing, and placed a definite kiss on his mouth.

'There,' I said firmly. 'That was what I saw Tuppy doing.'

'Really, sir?' asked Jeeves. 'I must admit my surprise at your shock. A small peck on the lips of a dear friend or relation is hardly a scandalous event.'

'You say that because you weren't there, Jeeves. I can assure you, it was more than a "peck," as you put it.'

'Forgive me, sir, but I'm afraid I simply don't understand why such a thing would be so very disturbing to you, and as such I am in no position to offer advice.'

I sighed to indicate my annoyance at his wording. 'Very well, Jeeves,' I said, and leaned in again and this time I rallied the famous Wooster nerve and kissed him with gusto. The arms tightened, the breath quickened, the eyes fluttered shut. I realized, with a shock, that Jeeves had already had his tea that morning, if my sense of taste was to be trusted. I would have taken Jeeves to task about his taking tea before he even wakes his master, but my tongue was presently occupied.

You are to understand that we were pressed quite up against one another. I thought this only appropriate, as it reflected the relative positions of Tuppy and his young man. However, it was becoming apparent to me that these circumstances could not go on much longer. Certain aspects of the male physique are subject to stimulation during activities such as the one I was demonstrating to Jeeves, and in a moment or two Jeeves was going to become intimately aware of the demonstration's effect on his master.

Unfortunately, such stimulation has the side effect of drawing the blood away from the brain. My own brain being not entirely sharp in the first place due to a combination of shock, lack of sleep, and predisposition, was rather slow off the mark that morning. I had misjudged the timing of withdrawal from the demonstrated embrace, and the result was a pressing into Jeeves's leg of my reaction to the embrace.

In such situations, it is really imperative to terminate the proceedings with grace and dignity. My extensive experience with finacées had made that much obvious to me, and it was a lesson I was not about to forget simply because my collaborator was Jeeves. I attempted to pull away, intending to put the matter behind us. Jeeves's intelligence is matched only by his discretion, and I had no fear of that quarter at all. It was, I found it, impossible to pull away, for Jeeves had his impressively strong arms completely around me by that time, and showed no inclination to release me. In fact, he stepped closer to me in such a way that I found my physical condition was mirrored by Jeeves.

If you have been following my memoirs diligently, you will have noted my utter propriety at all times. The Woosters are clean-minded, and not given to indecent speech. As such, I find it is necessary to omit what happened next. I need only say that it was auspicious that this demonstration took place directly next to my bed, and that all aunts, friends and well-wishers were occupied elsewhere that morning.

That afternoon, Jeeves convinced me to take some air. I did not want to, of course, but he was rather desperate by that time to unpack the luggage and put the bedroom to order again. As I was in an obliging mood due to the morning's activities, I set off for the Drones at about half three.

Naturally, Tuppy was the first one I saw in the door. He was rather shocked that I insisted on buying him several rounds and toasting him repeatedly, but I felt I owed him a great deal, and a Wooster always repays his debts. Sometimes a practical demonstration is the greatest inspiration.

***

Jeeves cordially invites you to read and review.