Fic: Bertie Listens to Jeeves
Title: Bertie Listens to Jeeves
Rating: R for a bit of friskiness
Disclaimer: The boys belong to Wodehouse, not to me
A/N: This tale is third in a series after "Bertie Puts His Foot Down" and "Bertie Learns to Live for the Moment." If you haven't read those, you might want do so or this story mightn't make sense. The story is also gift for my flist and anyone else who happens to stop by for a visit. About 2,100 words.
Bertie Puts His Foot Down
Bertie Learns to Live for the Moment
Bertie didn’t want to wake up. The dream was too wonderful and he knew if he opened his eyes it would vanish. And with his faulty memory, he wouldn’t remember even part of it by tea time.
He and Jeeves were on a beach, soaking up the sun and listening to the pounding surf. Every now and then a phantom of some sort would bring them tall, cool glasses of some fruity-tasting cocktail. The phantom, which resembled Oofy Prosser for some reason, didn’t bat an eye at the two of them laying there together. That would be the life, Bertie thought as he opened his eyes. The two of them out in the world, their love declared before everyone.
He was sprawling on the chesterfield, his head still in Jeeves’s lap. Jeeves himself was asleep, his own bulging cranium resting against the back cushion. His chest rose and fell in a regular rhythm, but Bertie still placed one palm over Jeeves’s heart, just to assure himself that his beloved was well. Jeeves’s arm was still around Bertie’s waist, so Bertie lifted it gently aside so that he could get to his feet. He stood and stretched, watched Jeeves for a moment, then checked his wristwatch. They’d missed lunch, but an early tea would not be amiss, he thought.
But first the luggage. Bertie knew if he didn’t take care of it, Jeeves would take it upon himself to bung it all into the bedroom. Jeeves wasn’t to do any heavy lifting, and, in Bertie’s opinion, that meant nothing weightier than a teapot. Bertie picked up the bags and took them into their bedroom, and when he returned to the sitting room he found Jeeves still asleep, snoring gently.
Bertie tiptoed into the kitchen, put on the kettle and arranged a tray with the afternoon tea set Jeeves favored. Snooping around in the cupboards, he found a tin of biscuits as well as a bottle of strawberry jam. Jeeves liked toast with his tea, Bertie thought, so he set about making it, only burning it a little on the edges.
He measured out the tea, wondering, as he always did, why the pot required leaves for itself. Jeeves had never been able to explain why this was so. But Bertie made the tea the way Jeeves taught him, put the pot on the tray and carried it into the sitting room. He had the table arranged just as Jeeves opened his eyes.
“Tea, my love?” Bertie asked as he began to pour out.
Jeeves yawned and stretched, and Bertie shifted uncomfortably in his chair as he watched his man from the corner of his eye. Jeeves looked better than he had in several months, and Bertie couldn’t help the twinge of desire that raced through his body. It had been a long time since they’d made love. In fact, Bertie recalled, they hadn’t since Jeeves had become so ill at Brinkley Court.
Jeeves had indicated his willingness on more than one occasion since that day, but Bertie had been terrified of putting any strain on his man’s heart. Jeeves had been so ill for so long, and Bertie couldn’t quite believe him when he said he’d been feeling better. They still slept together, but spent their nights far apart in their large bed. It had been an agonizing time.
Bertie knew he’d better get his mind on something else. He busied himself with filling a plate with toast and biscuits and then handed it to Jeeves.
“So what did you do while I was away?” Bertie asked as he prepared a plate for himself.
“Not a great deal, sir,” Jeeves said. “I did the marketing and supervised Mrs. Templeton as she did the cleaning.” He took a sip of his tea and pronounced it delicious. “What about you, sir? You never did tell me why you returned so early from Brinkley Court.”
Bertie shrugged, unwilling to tell Jeeves just yet about his conversation with Tuppy. It was still too fresh, too painful and too frightening. While he knew Tuppy was right about living for the moment, Bertie couldn’t help thinking that his hours-old vow to stop worrying about the future now seemed like a foolish one.
“I suppose I just didn’t feel like staying,” he said, then quickly changed the subject. “Chatted a lot with Tuppy about his plans for Brinkley Court,” he said instead. “He wants to expand the gardens so that weddings can be held there. Says people want a nice, inexpensive place in the country for weddings.”
Jeeves frowned. “I wonder how Mrs. Travers would have felt about that plan, sir.”
“Angela says she’d be happy that ‘blasted Glossop’ found a way for the family to make money on the place,” Bertie said. “Keeping a place like that is expensive.”
“I know it is, sir. Mr. Glossop is to be commended for his forward thinking.”
They continued talking in a desultory fashion until they’d eaten everything on the tray and drained the pot dry. Jeeves stood up to gather the tea things, but Bertie put out a hand to stop him.
“I can do that, Jeeves. Sit down and rest.”
Jeeves shook his head. “I have been resting for some time now, sir. I would like to be of use once more.” He stood and picked up the tray. “I cannot continue to sit here and do nothing for the rest of my life, sir. Please believe me when I tell you I am feeling better.”
“Then why risk it, Jeeves?” Bertie stood up to and reached for the tray. “The less you do the more you’ll improve. Stands to reason, doesn’t it?”
Jeeves kept a tight grip on the tray, and Bertie saw his brows draw together in an ominous fashion.
“Sir, I must insist,” he said. “I also insist that you allow me to know my own limitations. I am a grown man, sir, and I do know what I am doing.”
Bertie bit his lower lip and nodded. The last thing he wanted was for Jeeves to become angry. Getting worked up like this couldn’t be good for him, Bertie thought.
“All right, Jeeves, you win,” he said. “I’ll go and make a start on unpacking the luggage.”
“Very good, sir.” Jeeves strode off toward the kitchen.
Bertie went into their bedroom, picked up one of the suitcases and tossed it on the bed, trying not to think of their almost-argument. He and Jeeves rarely disagreed, and when they did, it was always over something trivial that was easily put right. But this situation wasn’t so easily put right.
He emptied the suitcase, snapped the clasps shut and put it beside the wardrobe. Some of the clothes needed a wash, so Bertie tossed them in a basket Jeeves kept for the laundry. He was about to stuff the clean items into the wardrobe when Jeeves entered the room.
“Allow me to assist you, sir,” he said, taking a stack of clean shirts from Bertie.
“I can do it, Jeeves,” Bertie said. “Why don’t you just sit down and supervise the job?”
Jeeves placed the shirts away in a neat pile. “Because I don’t wish to have to iron them again before you wear them.”
“Fair enough,” Bertie said. He bent to pick up the second suitcase, but stood back up with a start when he felt a familiar pair of hands on his hips.
“Surely that can wait, sir,” Jeeves said as he wrapped his arms around Bertie’s waist and pulled him close. “You’ve come home early and I, for one, would like to celebrate.”
Bertie’s mouth went dry. He could feel Jeeves’s desire against his buttocks, a sensation he both yearned for and dreaded. Surely Jeeves wasn’t ready for this. He couldn’t be; he was still ill. They couldn’t do this, not yet.
Bertie placed his hands on Jeeves’s and tried to pull them from around his waist. “Jeeves, my love,” he said, “the clothes will be wrinkled if I don’t get them unpacked.”
But Jeeves held on tight. Bertie closed his eyes and sighed in spite of himself as he felt Jeeves’s mouth against the side of his neck. God, it had been so long. He wanted to turn in his man’s arms and kiss him thoroughly, then toss him on the bed and do things to him that would make even that well-used piece of furniture blush.
“Jeeves,” he said, trying to maintain control. “I don’t think we should. You’re not ready...”
“Oh, indeed I am, sir,” Jeeves whispered into Bertie’s ear. “And what’s more,” he added as one hand traveled down the front of Bertie’s trousers, “I think you are, too.”
“Oh, Jeeves, Jeeves,” Bertie moaned as Jeeves’s fingers squeezed and stroked him through the fine wool. “Please. We can’t. You’re not well enough.”
He found himself turned swiftly around, still held in his lover’s iron grip.
“As I said just a few moments ago, you will allow me to know my own capabilities, sir,” Jeeves said, his voice harsh. His dark eyes snapped with rage. “I am a man, not a child. You will not treat me as such.”
Bertie felt himself wilt in the face of his lover’s anger. He raised one shaking hand and placed it on Jeeves’s chest. He could feel the steady, reassuring beat of Jeeves’s heart, but somehow it wasn’t enough.
“I appreciate your care and concern, sir,” Jeeves said, his voice calmer now. “Without your devotion to me I know I would not have survived.”
“Then you understand what I mean, Jeeves,” Bertie said. “We can’t risk a setback. I can’t risk...”
He stopped speaking and gazed at the floor. He couldn’t say it.
“What can’t you risk, sir?” Jeeves asked, loosening his grip on Bertie’s arms. “What is it you fear?”
Bertie swallowed hard and stared at Jeeves. The tiny lines around Jeeves’s deep blue eyes, the silver in his dark hair and the love and affection on his face all spoke of a life well lived. He wanted to tell Jeeves that what he feared most was no longer having that beloved face resting on the pillow next to his own, but his courage failed him.
“You fear losing me, sir,” Jeeves said, understanding as he always did. “Just as I fear losing you. It will happen one day, sir; one of us will be left alone. But that will not be for a good long while yet.”
“But how do you know, Jeeves?” Bertie asked even as he felt two tears slip down his checks. He curled his fingers against Jeeves’s white shirtfront. “How can you possibly know?”
Jeeves shook his head. “I really don’t, sir. But I do not wish to delay the happiness we can have now for fear of what might happen in an hour, a day or in ten years.” He wiped Bertie’s tears away with a gentle finger, then smiled his quirky little smile. “I would like for us to go to bed, to enjoy each other, to sleep in one another’s arms until we awaken and then do it all over again.”
Bertie slid his hand behind Jeeves’s neck and pulled him close. “I just worry about you, that’s all. I can’t bear to think of losing you. Not after everything we’ve gone through to be together. All those dratted beazels, Aunt Agatha. Now we have a chance for some peace and quiet, and your heart goes all ticky.” He wrapped both arms around his man’s strong shoulders and simply held on. “I couldn’t bear to be without you, Jeeves.”
“And I would find life without you equally unbearable,” Jeeves said, holding Bertie against his own body once more. “On that we are agreed.”
Bertie pulled back a bit and smiled at Jeeves, then kissed him full on the mouth. Jeeves opened his lips with an eagerness Bertie found irresistible. Bertie slid his tongue inside Jeeves’s mouth, tasting him, letting him know without words how much he loved him.
After a long moment, Bertie ended the kiss and framed Jeeves’s face with his hands. “That thing you said you’d like to do? Go to bed and enjoy each other? Well, that sounds lovely to me, old thing. We don’t need to do anything vigorous, if you take my meaning.”
“We will let our bodies tell us what to do,” Jeeves said, his fingers already unbuttoning Bertie’s shirt with all the skill of an experienced valet.
“All right, Jeeves, if you say so, but I have to warn you,” Bertie said as he went for Jeeves’s braces. “Mine has been missing yours so much that it probably won’t take long before we get to the sleep part of the wheeze.”
“That is perfectly fine, sir,” Jeeves said as he pushed Bertie’s shirt from his shoulders. “I have missed sleeping in your arms. These past few months have been a sojourn into hell. A little heaven would be a welcome change.”
Rating: R for a bit of friskiness
Disclaimer: The boys belong to Wodehouse, not to me
A/N: This tale is third in a series after "Bertie Puts His Foot Down" and "Bertie Learns to Live for the Moment." If you haven't read those, you might want do so or this story mightn't make sense. The story is also gift for my flist and anyone else who happens to stop by for a visit. About 2,100 words.
Bertie Puts His Foot Down
Bertie Learns to Live for the Moment
Bertie didn’t want to wake up. The dream was too wonderful and he knew if he opened his eyes it would vanish. And with his faulty memory, he wouldn’t remember even part of it by tea time.
He and Jeeves were on a beach, soaking up the sun and listening to the pounding surf. Every now and then a phantom of some sort would bring them tall, cool glasses of some fruity-tasting cocktail. The phantom, which resembled Oofy Prosser for some reason, didn’t bat an eye at the two of them laying there together. That would be the life, Bertie thought as he opened his eyes. The two of them out in the world, their love declared before everyone.
He was sprawling on the chesterfield, his head still in Jeeves’s lap. Jeeves himself was asleep, his own bulging cranium resting against the back cushion. His chest rose and fell in a regular rhythm, but Bertie still placed one palm over Jeeves’s heart, just to assure himself that his beloved was well. Jeeves’s arm was still around Bertie’s waist, so Bertie lifted it gently aside so that he could get to his feet. He stood and stretched, watched Jeeves for a moment, then checked his wristwatch. They’d missed lunch, but an early tea would not be amiss, he thought.
But first the luggage. Bertie knew if he didn’t take care of it, Jeeves would take it upon himself to bung it all into the bedroom. Jeeves wasn’t to do any heavy lifting, and, in Bertie’s opinion, that meant nothing weightier than a teapot. Bertie picked up the bags and took them into their bedroom, and when he returned to the sitting room he found Jeeves still asleep, snoring gently.
Bertie tiptoed into the kitchen, put on the kettle and arranged a tray with the afternoon tea set Jeeves favored. Snooping around in the cupboards, he found a tin of biscuits as well as a bottle of strawberry jam. Jeeves liked toast with his tea, Bertie thought, so he set about making it, only burning it a little on the edges.
He measured out the tea, wondering, as he always did, why the pot required leaves for itself. Jeeves had never been able to explain why this was so. But Bertie made the tea the way Jeeves taught him, put the pot on the tray and carried it into the sitting room. He had the table arranged just as Jeeves opened his eyes.
“Tea, my love?” Bertie asked as he began to pour out.
Jeeves yawned and stretched, and Bertie shifted uncomfortably in his chair as he watched his man from the corner of his eye. Jeeves looked better than he had in several months, and Bertie couldn’t help the twinge of desire that raced through his body. It had been a long time since they’d made love. In fact, Bertie recalled, they hadn’t since Jeeves had become so ill at Brinkley Court.
Jeeves had indicated his willingness on more than one occasion since that day, but Bertie had been terrified of putting any strain on his man’s heart. Jeeves had been so ill for so long, and Bertie couldn’t quite believe him when he said he’d been feeling better. They still slept together, but spent their nights far apart in their large bed. It had been an agonizing time.
Bertie knew he’d better get his mind on something else. He busied himself with filling a plate with toast and biscuits and then handed it to Jeeves.
“So what did you do while I was away?” Bertie asked as he prepared a plate for himself.
“Not a great deal, sir,” Jeeves said. “I did the marketing and supervised Mrs. Templeton as she did the cleaning.” He took a sip of his tea and pronounced it delicious. “What about you, sir? You never did tell me why you returned so early from Brinkley Court.”
Bertie shrugged, unwilling to tell Jeeves just yet about his conversation with Tuppy. It was still too fresh, too painful and too frightening. While he knew Tuppy was right about living for the moment, Bertie couldn’t help thinking that his hours-old vow to stop worrying about the future now seemed like a foolish one.
“I suppose I just didn’t feel like staying,” he said, then quickly changed the subject. “Chatted a lot with Tuppy about his plans for Brinkley Court,” he said instead. “He wants to expand the gardens so that weddings can be held there. Says people want a nice, inexpensive place in the country for weddings.”
Jeeves frowned. “I wonder how Mrs. Travers would have felt about that plan, sir.”
“Angela says she’d be happy that ‘blasted Glossop’ found a way for the family to make money on the place,” Bertie said. “Keeping a place like that is expensive.”
“I know it is, sir. Mr. Glossop is to be commended for his forward thinking.”
They continued talking in a desultory fashion until they’d eaten everything on the tray and drained the pot dry. Jeeves stood up to gather the tea things, but Bertie put out a hand to stop him.
“I can do that, Jeeves. Sit down and rest.”
Jeeves shook his head. “I have been resting for some time now, sir. I would like to be of use once more.” He stood and picked up the tray. “I cannot continue to sit here and do nothing for the rest of my life, sir. Please believe me when I tell you I am feeling better.”
“Then why risk it, Jeeves?” Bertie stood up to and reached for the tray. “The less you do the more you’ll improve. Stands to reason, doesn’t it?”
Jeeves kept a tight grip on the tray, and Bertie saw his brows draw together in an ominous fashion.
“Sir, I must insist,” he said. “I also insist that you allow me to know my own limitations. I am a grown man, sir, and I do know what I am doing.”
Bertie bit his lower lip and nodded. The last thing he wanted was for Jeeves to become angry. Getting worked up like this couldn’t be good for him, Bertie thought.
“All right, Jeeves, you win,” he said. “I’ll go and make a start on unpacking the luggage.”
“Very good, sir.” Jeeves strode off toward the kitchen.
Bertie went into their bedroom, picked up one of the suitcases and tossed it on the bed, trying not to think of their almost-argument. He and Jeeves rarely disagreed, and when they did, it was always over something trivial that was easily put right. But this situation wasn’t so easily put right.
He emptied the suitcase, snapped the clasps shut and put it beside the wardrobe. Some of the clothes needed a wash, so Bertie tossed them in a basket Jeeves kept for the laundry. He was about to stuff the clean items into the wardrobe when Jeeves entered the room.
“Allow me to assist you, sir,” he said, taking a stack of clean shirts from Bertie.
“I can do it, Jeeves,” Bertie said. “Why don’t you just sit down and supervise the job?”
Jeeves placed the shirts away in a neat pile. “Because I don’t wish to have to iron them again before you wear them.”
“Fair enough,” Bertie said. He bent to pick up the second suitcase, but stood back up with a start when he felt a familiar pair of hands on his hips.
“Surely that can wait, sir,” Jeeves said as he wrapped his arms around Bertie’s waist and pulled him close. “You’ve come home early and I, for one, would like to celebrate.”
Bertie’s mouth went dry. He could feel Jeeves’s desire against his buttocks, a sensation he both yearned for and dreaded. Surely Jeeves wasn’t ready for this. He couldn’t be; he was still ill. They couldn’t do this, not yet.
Bertie placed his hands on Jeeves’s and tried to pull them from around his waist. “Jeeves, my love,” he said, “the clothes will be wrinkled if I don’t get them unpacked.”
But Jeeves held on tight. Bertie closed his eyes and sighed in spite of himself as he felt Jeeves’s mouth against the side of his neck. God, it had been so long. He wanted to turn in his man’s arms and kiss him thoroughly, then toss him on the bed and do things to him that would make even that well-used piece of furniture blush.
“Jeeves,” he said, trying to maintain control. “I don’t think we should. You’re not ready...”
“Oh, indeed I am, sir,” Jeeves whispered into Bertie’s ear. “And what’s more,” he added as one hand traveled down the front of Bertie’s trousers, “I think you are, too.”
“Oh, Jeeves, Jeeves,” Bertie moaned as Jeeves’s fingers squeezed and stroked him through the fine wool. “Please. We can’t. You’re not well enough.”
He found himself turned swiftly around, still held in his lover’s iron grip.
“As I said just a few moments ago, you will allow me to know my own capabilities, sir,” Jeeves said, his voice harsh. His dark eyes snapped with rage. “I am a man, not a child. You will not treat me as such.”
Bertie felt himself wilt in the face of his lover’s anger. He raised one shaking hand and placed it on Jeeves’s chest. He could feel the steady, reassuring beat of Jeeves’s heart, but somehow it wasn’t enough.
“I appreciate your care and concern, sir,” Jeeves said, his voice calmer now. “Without your devotion to me I know I would not have survived.”
“Then you understand what I mean, Jeeves,” Bertie said. “We can’t risk a setback. I can’t risk...”
He stopped speaking and gazed at the floor. He couldn’t say it.
“What can’t you risk, sir?” Jeeves asked, loosening his grip on Bertie’s arms. “What is it you fear?”
Bertie swallowed hard and stared at Jeeves. The tiny lines around Jeeves’s deep blue eyes, the silver in his dark hair and the love and affection on his face all spoke of a life well lived. He wanted to tell Jeeves that what he feared most was no longer having that beloved face resting on the pillow next to his own, but his courage failed him.
“You fear losing me, sir,” Jeeves said, understanding as he always did. “Just as I fear losing you. It will happen one day, sir; one of us will be left alone. But that will not be for a good long while yet.”
“But how do you know, Jeeves?” Bertie asked even as he felt two tears slip down his checks. He curled his fingers against Jeeves’s white shirtfront. “How can you possibly know?”
Jeeves shook his head. “I really don’t, sir. But I do not wish to delay the happiness we can have now for fear of what might happen in an hour, a day or in ten years.” He wiped Bertie’s tears away with a gentle finger, then smiled his quirky little smile. “I would like for us to go to bed, to enjoy each other, to sleep in one another’s arms until we awaken and then do it all over again.”
Bertie slid his hand behind Jeeves’s neck and pulled him close. “I just worry about you, that’s all. I can’t bear to think of losing you. Not after everything we’ve gone through to be together. All those dratted beazels, Aunt Agatha. Now we have a chance for some peace and quiet, and your heart goes all ticky.” He wrapped both arms around his man’s strong shoulders and simply held on. “I couldn’t bear to be without you, Jeeves.”
“And I would find life without you equally unbearable,” Jeeves said, holding Bertie against his own body once more. “On that we are agreed.”
Bertie pulled back a bit and smiled at Jeeves, then kissed him full on the mouth. Jeeves opened his lips with an eagerness Bertie found irresistible. Bertie slid his tongue inside Jeeves’s mouth, tasting him, letting him know without words how much he loved him.
After a long moment, Bertie ended the kiss and framed Jeeves’s face with his hands. “That thing you said you’d like to do? Go to bed and enjoy each other? Well, that sounds lovely to me, old thing. We don’t need to do anything vigorous, if you take my meaning.”
“We will let our bodies tell us what to do,” Jeeves said, his fingers already unbuttoning Bertie’s shirt with all the skill of an experienced valet.
“All right, Jeeves, if you say so, but I have to warn you,” Bertie said as he went for Jeeves’s braces. “Mine has been missing yours so much that it probably won’t take long before we get to the sleep part of the wheeze.”
“That is perfectly fine, sir,” Jeeves said as he pushed Bertie’s shirt from his shoulders. “I have missed sleeping in your arms. These past few months have been a sojourn into hell. A little heaven would be a welcome change.”