Rp for captjacksparrow

[bertiewwooster]

'Dash it, Jeeves, it's too bally early!'  He grumbles, still half asleep.  'If you're going to wake a chap up at an indecent hour like this you could at least bring him a cup of tea, what?'

But Jeeves doesn't answer.  There is no serene voice next to the bed saying 'My apologies, sir, but you had requested to be woken at this hour,' no cup of tea

Comments

[captjacksparrow]

They tulips -- they're chasing him with pure intent to eat him. Jack's sure of it. Never should have come to Holland. Ridiculous place for being made with so much water, and Jack's Dutch is too rusty to properly explain to the giant flowers why, in fact, it would be a very bad idea to eat him. One giant green leafy... plant-part is about to scoop him up when Jack suddenly fires into consciousness. A shout rings in his ears

[bertiewwooster]

Bertie eyes Jack sympathetically. 'Rather.' He concurs vehemently, and reaches awkwardly out with a leg to snag his shorts with his toes from where they'd been flung across the room, trying (with little effect, it must be said) to cover his nakedness. Feeling slightly less awkward now he's got something covering him, but still with a vicious headache, he looks at Jack, blinking rapidly.

'Er, we didn't really intend to fall asleep, did we? That is to say, um, staying the night here and all wasn't exactly in the plan, was it?'

He recalls somewhat more of the night before now, his brain reluctantly being pulled into proper consciousness and he smiles a little to himself, even if the expression is somewhat strained. It was worth it anyway, whatever 'it' is.

[captjacksparrow]

'Not the plan, no.'

Jack keeps his gaze directed mainly at the window, but out of the corner of his eyes he can see Bertie hunting around for his clothes. Jack glances down at his own skin, dried sweat patching little white trails down his chest and stomach, but doesn't much mind being naked. In fact he tries to be that way as much as possible, thoroughly enjoying a lack of covering, but right now it's a subtle concern. An irrelevant fact when he's sitting here, gone off without a word and Norrington probably ready to stretch his neck six feet when he goes back.

Not an idea Jack particularly fancies. He frowns. Maybe he just shouldn't go back. The notion sends a surge of panic through his veins, so he ammends a brief yet to the equation. He shouldn't go back yet. He's hung about this long, so it seems all right to hang about some more. And he enjoys Bertie's company. Quite a lot

[bertiewwooster]

Bertie ceases his frantic search for his clothing- his shoes are there by the bed, but where the deuce has his shirt got to?- when Jack leans in to press a quick kiss against his lips. He has a point, actually. Shockingly

[captjacksparrow]

When Bertie doesn't shove him away, Jack plants another kiss on his jaw, then one on his neck. Bits and pieces of last night are filtering back into his mind, and a heat is beginning to grow through his limbs at the memories. Jack hasn't been that hard in a while, especially with Norrington deciding he prefers papers over people. People meaning Jack. The idea leaves a sour taste in his mouth. He doesn't want to think about it much, so distracts himself by mapping the line of Bertie's jaw with his lips

[bertiewwooster]

A little murmur of content escapes as Jack kisses his way along Bertie's jaw, and he leans into the touch like a cat, his lips curling in a smile. It is first thing in the morning, after all, and his body is more than willing to cooperate. He tilts his head a little so he can brush his lips against Jack's cheek, over his mouth, feeling the scratch of morning stubble.

Still though, he feels the need to correct Jack's misapprehension. Even if Jeeves is with someone else, after all, he's still Jeeves'Mmm, but Jeeves knows everything about the young master, you know. Except... that one thing.' He waffles. 'Just the way of it, what? Lends an ear if I need it, there to fish me out of the soup if I fall in. Don't know how I'd get on without the man

[captjacksparrow]

Jack sucks a patch of skin, worrying it alternatively between his teeth and his lips. He pulls back when Bertie mentions that one thing. He tries to remember what that one thing might be, because other than Bertie mentioning his o. of a., Jack can't think of what things there were. He laves the red spot blooming on Bertie's pale skin, devilishly pleased with leaving on mark on him, only have listening to what Bertie's actually saying

[bertiewwooster]

His hand travels absently up to his jaw to rub at the wet spot Jack's created there, and he absently wonders if it'll bruise and if it does, how on earth he'll explain it to people. Tell them he met a pirate, perhaps, just to throw them off. It'd be quite a story for the lads down at the Drones to say he'd been bitten by a pirate. He wouldn't tell them the rest of the story, of course, but there it was.

He looks up when Jack pauses, feeling his gaze on him, and flushes with inexplicable mortification when he does speak. He vaguely remembers using the phrase o. of my a. to describe Jeeves at the bar the evening before, but of course he hadn't given a name to him then. He feels suddenly guilty, that he should be here, like this, with Jack, him knowing who Jeeves is and how Bertie feels about the man

[captjacksparrow]

'Jolly bad form,' Jack repeats, very quietly, his lower lip jutting out.

He's not pouting, because he doesn't do that. And he's not jealous, because he doesn't do that either. He shouldn't care, because he knew. Bertie told him before. And one night doesn't mean. It never meant anything before. Jack's done this, he knows he has, and left the next morning or or the next hour or five minutes afterwards, and it never mattered to him. Never once did he spare a thought to where the other person went, or what they did, or who they did it with.

So it shouldn't matter now. Just because happens to like Bertie and finds Bertie to be oddly charming and feels a bit trapped and lonely stuck in London town without a way out -- it doesn't mean any of this should matter. Jack's put a lot of stock on things not mattering to him.

But it does. The fact that Bertie has Jeeves stealing his heart and Norrington has the bloody Navy stealing his matters. Jack's not exactly materialistic. Other than the Pearl and his own life, he's never really needed

[bertiewwooster]

Quite suddenly Bertie feels absolutely horrible. Almost ill, in fact. But not about Jeeves, as he had done before; guilty that he should be abandoning the bloke he loves (even if Jeeves doesn't know it) for a night with a handsome stranger who's more interesting than he should be. No, now he feels guilty about what he's done to Jack. He's got drunk with Jack, spent an evening baring his soul to Jack, slept with Jack, and he likes him a lot, perhaps even fancies the chap, but he's in love with Jeeves. That's really just bad form, isn't it? Not the way a preux chevalier operates at all

[captjacksparrow]

Jack swallows and looks over Bertie's shoulder, out the window to the overbright, grey sky. At least he assumes it's grey. Rarely is it anything else in London, it seems

[bertiewwooster]

Tears prick hot and bright at the corners of his eyes as Bertie listens to Jack speak, and a lump rises in his throat, tight and painful. He doesn't even know why it should seem so tragic, but it does. Thinking of Jeeves, he always feels how hopeless the thing is, how futile to want a man like Jeeves. Now though, it's not just Jeeves. He wants to... hug Jack, just hold him and murmur useless sentiments into his ear, promise him that he'll find his ship, his Pearl, if that's the thing's name, that everything will be alright. That's ridiculous, of course, because he doesn't even know what's wrong in the first place, but he feels it anyway.

And Bertie's not the sort of man to hesitate on an impulse. At least not usually. So he shifts just slightly where he's sat on the floor and hesitantly leans forward to put his arms around Jack's shoulders.

'I-' he starts to speak, but his voice breaks off, choked, and he doesn't know what to say anyway. He's not overfond of silence, Bertie, but it'll have to do for now.

[captjacksparrow]

It's weird, what Bertie's doing. Hugging Jack. Or something. It might be a hug. Jack isn't sure, having never recieved or given one before. Seems like a hug, though, this affectionate but non-sexual act. Jack's not used to that, being touched because it's comforting, without any other gain to be got out of it. Not a lead in to something more or a slap or a drunken fumble in some alley

[bertiewwooster]

Something lightens perceptibly in his belly when, after a pause, Jack returns the embrace, burrowing into the space between his neck and shoulder, just as he had done the night before. It's curious how awkward the other man is about it, as though he'd never given someone a hug before. Bertie can't imagine why he wouldn't have, though; why would anyone not have? Well, he supposes, if one's a pirate. One never knows about that sort of thing. Even so. He combs the fingers of one hand into the hair at the base of Jack's skull, enjoying the comfort of his breath against Bertie's neck and thinking that if it's true he's never been hugged before, he's not doing a fine job for a first go

[captjacksparrow]

Jack laughs at Bertie's neat little summation. It's fitting, of course, which makes it all the funnier.

'Aye,' he breathes. 'Tricky and confusing.' He thinks that's what Bertie meant. 'Don't know if I call them rummy though, being rum's a good thing to have 'round.'

Bertie might be a good thing to have 'round too, Jack decides. He tighens his hold, just as Bertie loosens his, and Jack freezes, afraid that maybe he's done something wrong and this isn't how it's suppose to go. He places another kiss to Bertie's neck, because that at least he does know, and then another, tracing a pattern up to his ear. He places a kiss at the soft spot just behind the lobe, not wanting to move back and looking for an excuse to stay.

'Can think of better ways to relate,' he whispers, mouth playing with the half-formed concept of a smile. 'Not quite so complicated, this time.' He sucks the earlobe between his teeth, nibbling gently, as his fingers beat a skitering tattoo down Bertie's spine.

[bertiewwooster]

He lets out a pleased little exhalation- something halfway between a gasp and a murmur- when Jack nibbles on his earlobe, smiling around the sound because this at least means things aren't too strange. Less complicated, as Jack says. The lazy warmth of his body, which had been replaced for a moment there by a horrible sinking emptiness, reinstates itself, curling contentedly in Bertie's limbs.

Seemingly of its own accord, his head tilts to one side, baring more of his neck for Jack to access. His hand in Jack's hair slides down just a little, his finger tracing along the shell of Jack's ear, and he laughs breathily into the morning air.

'Jolly good. I must say, I do like the way your old onion works. Priorities in order and all that, what?'

He's half teasing, but it's affectionate, really. He's just glad that neither of them have left in a huff or done anything rash. And of all the ways to start a morning, this is not at all a bad one.