(Untitled)

[jr_ganymede]

In the late afternoon, Jeeves is still out playing chess with Redding. The rooms have of course been cleaned to perfection before the manservant's departure, so the handwritten letter on the silver tray on the end-table is all the more noticeable. It reads, in familiar cursive scrawl:

Bertie

Comments

[bertiewwooster]

Well, that meant little enough to me, really. B. Wooster, after all, is no viniculturist, or whatever it is those chappies are called- wine experts, you know, who go about sipping delicately from glass after glass and then just spitting the stuff out. Seems a bally waste to me, really; I mean to say, what's the point of drinking wine if you're not actually going to drink it, what? Point is, I was quite sure that whatever Jeeves had selected would prove to be more than adequate.

I let the old noggin drop back against the chair, letting my thoughts wander as they would for a moment. Inevitably, they wandered to the figure of my valet, busy in the tiny kitchen provided, surely doing mysterious, valety sorts of things. The sounds that issued therefrom were a small comfort to my scrambled grey cells, and I pictured Jeeves, tall and dark and solid, expertly navigating pots and pans and all manner of other things.

After a moment, I was struck by what exactly I was doing. Lying back and going all swoony over the image of my valet cooking? Blast it, but I'd surely gone as soppy as Madeline Bassett. Or Madeline Spode now, by all accounts, as fundamentally disturbing a thought as that might have been. I shook my head and unfolded myself out of the chair. Infatuated I might have been, but B. Wooster was no gawd-help-us.

Now I was up, though, I felt rather that heading somewhere was in order, so I drifted over to the kitchen and popped my head 'round the doorframe.

'I say, Jeeves; have you actually seen Claude or Eustace about the ship? I mean, I'd no idea they were even headed to the great US of A until I got their unfortunate correspondence.'

[jr_ganymede]

Jeeves is primly aproned and shirtsleeved, bent over the rather-low counter and doing something mysterious and lovely to the swordfish with a very exquisite and indefinable knife. Some sort of fish knife. Swordfish knife. Very specialised.

"I have not, sir, although Mr. Redding related to me a story of two identical twin brothers who he observed being... reprimanded to... by the ship's captain. It was Mr. Redding's understanding that the gentlemen had let themselves into the locked quarters during a late evening and began trying to steer the ship themselves."

Yep, that'd be them.

[bertiewwooster]

Had it been anyone but those two monstrosities, Claude and Eustace, I would have laughed. As it was, though, I allowed the coconut to fall against the doorframe with more force than was perhaps entirely necessary. Only my unfortunate younger cousins- the bane of the Wooster name if ever there was one- could manage to get themselves into the locked cabin of a bally massive boat like the Calypso and attempt a bit of captaining themselves.

'Those blisters follow me precisely where I'd least like them, Jeeves. And Florence Craye, as well! It seems this Wooster is to have no peace from marauding females and delinquent cousins, what?'

I cocked my head, struck by a sudden thought. It knocked unpleasantly against the door jamb in the process, and I wrinkled my nose. 'Where the deuce where they trying to steer the ship, Jeeves? Surely last time we saw the blighters, they wanted to get to the colonies, did they not?'

[jr_ganymede]

There is the very faintest suggestion of a smirk on Jeeves's lips as he sets the fish aside, washes his hands, and puts it in to cook so he can begin chopping the vegetables.

"I do not believe, sir, that they were in a state of mind wherein there was a specific motive or destination in mind." Translation from Jeevesian: They were completely bloody tanked.

If one hip is cocked a little to the side in a display of amusement, it is surely a simple trick of the light. This overhead bulb nonsense really does play games with the eye.

[bertiewwooster]

Well, of course that explained it. They must have been tight as a pair of owls, though, to get that into their idiotic heads. At least when B. Wooster got a few sheets to the wind, I had the sense to toddle back to my own rooms to deal with the thing myself. Or- with the help of Jeeves, more often than not, but it amounts to the same thing, really.

I paused, however, in my internal condemnation of my unfortunate flesh and blood, when I noticed a rather curious tone about Jeeves's stance. Something that might almost have been called 'cheeky' in a lesser man, with the faintest of trembling muscles at the side of his mouth in what could perhaps have been the shy younger brother of a smirk. The Wooster throat bobbed in a swallow, and I blinked, walloped around the head once again with the sheer impact of how inordinately attractive the man could be.

'Er, yes, quite.' I stammered. 'Bally addlepates, the pair of them. I shall have to have a word next time I bump into them. The words of the elder unto the younger and all that, eh?'

[jr_ganymede]

"I agree most heartily to the sentiment, sir." He nods, knuckles curled over some exotic greenery that could be related to cauliflower and also perhaps celery, blade swift and precise. He does turn his head, though, as if sensing that something with the young master is unwell; his hands continue their work as Jeeves studies Bertram. "Are you quite alright, sir?" If the hip was ever up to anything, it's stopped now. Like it never happened. Maybe it didn't.

It did.

[bertiewwooster]

'Hmm?'

I blinked up at Jeeves, shaken out of my momentary reverie. He looked the epitome of the differential valet, any hint of earlier soupiness utterly done away with. A little laugh bubbled up out of my throat and I inserted the hands into my pockets, rocking a little on the balls of my feet. Ever so casual, you understand.

'Oh, rather, Jeeves. At least, now the threat of engagement has been done away with, I'm feeling quite top hole. Almost corking, I'd say. Prospect of a relaxing evening in, a smashing meal... no reason I'd be less than alright that I can see.'

[jr_ganymede]

"I am most gratified to hear it, sir." Jeeves barely smiles, showing his approval of a happy and well-cared-for young master. And then it is back to dinner, which is of course a high priority indeed: "I do not think it should be too much longer, sir. I merely need to finish chopping these, simmer them, and set the table..." Lower lip juts out just a touch, thoughtful.

[bertiewwooster]

'Marvellous, Jeeves!'

I was about to say. Indeed, the words were situated quite comfortably atop my tongue, just behind the teeth, but before I could get beyond the first syllable, Jeeves did this Thing with his lips. Almost a pouty sort of Thing, the lower lip sticking out just a tad, looking moist and absolutely indecently pink. Now, I exerted all my willpower not to blush like a lovestruck filly at this point, but it was bally difficult.

The thing about Jeeves, you understand, is that every slightest twitch of a muscle or raise of an eyebrow is carefully modulated. The Jeevesian dial does nothing without express command from that fine brain. And so to then see him doing that Thing- well, it brought to mind Number Four from my earlier thinking sessions whilst taking my ablutions, if you recall, and my brain couldn't quite seem to decide if that idea was the most spiffing thing it had ever heard, or if it made it want to flee and curl up in a corner somewhere.

'Marvellous, Jeeves.' I completed my original sentiment after a slight clearing of the larynx. 'Ah... shouldn't take long, then?'

[jr_ganymede]

Jeeves tilts his head, thoughtful, and his hand holding the knife stills. It really seems to take him a moment of full contemplation. His eyes are startlingly clear, focused upwards at nothing in particular.

"It would be most helpful and time-saving if I had your assistance in the matter, sir, but of course that is not something I could ask of you."

Wait.

[bertiewwooster]

I blinked, and the Wooster mouth hung open ever so slightly as I regarded the man with frank curiosity. Jeeves had been with me a dashed few years now, but never had he asked me to assist him with anything. Indeed, whenever I did try to lend a hand here or there, he invariably shooed me away before I did some irreversible damage to hearth and home. Not that I blame him, of course; I can be something of a bungler, and if you recall the fiasco that ensued when I tried to make myself a cup of tea, you'll understand why Jeeves might be wary of allowing the young master to partake in the housework.

"Shocked," then, would probably be a good word to describe my initial reaction.

Even so, though, anything to help the chap hardly seemed too much, so I gave a little shrug. 'Not at all, Jeeves! Ask away, by all means; how may Bertram be of assistance?'

[jr_ganymede]

He 'hmm's aloud, returning to the vegetables, back to the young master. "It would be helpful to me, sir, if you were to lay out two plates from that cabinet just by your head, two wine glasses, two water glasses, two sets of silverware from the top drawer to my left, two napkins, and if you were to perhaps cease from unnecessarily concealing your feelings." Chop, chop. "I would be most grateful."

[bertiewwooster]

My hands were already at the cabinet indicated and I'd fished out a largish dinner plate when Jeeves's words hit me. I'm quite sure that if the floor had opened up under my feet at that moment and I'd fallen into the sea I could hardly have been more shocked. The plate fell from my hands and smashed on the counter with a rather nerve-shattering sound, the broken pieces of it falling about the Wooster feet.

I stared at Jeeves. Inside the Wooster breast, my heart seemed to be dancing an energetic Irish jig, and breathing suddenly became rather more difficult than anything so commonplace ought ever to be.

'I say... what?'

[jr_ganymede]

Jeeves glances over his shoulder in a casual manner, as if there was no broken plate and Bertram's inquiry was quite normal. "The silverware, sir," he says quietly, "in the top drawer to my left."

Except he says it in this exceptional way, which involves not just his voice, but also his gaze, which seem to be saying something very clear and very much not about silverware - beckoning, almost, urging Bertram to... to do something... and Jeeves's posture, while casual, is completely overly so. It is an obvious fake, intended to be so, the calm tone and the calm stance and the simple repetition except it is clearly something other, Jeeves looking at Bertram, really looking at him. You know what I said. You know exactly what I mean. No impatience, no frustration, just... fondness, maybe, something gentle and warm that's settled around the corners of his eyes and made its place there.