(Untitled)

Dec 18, 2007 00:03

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 ( Read more... )

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bertiewwooster January 4 2008, 09:16:35 UTC
After an admittedly dashed soupy beginning to the day, I'd quickly bucked myself up. A bit of a stroll 'round the decks, you know, and a lengthy game of shuffleboard for the benefit of the few toothsome fillies who generally hang about the place. B Wooster does make quite a hit with the ladies, even if my own affections are otherwise engaged, and it serves as a neat distraction from the deep thoughts which tend to twist my alabaster brow regarding said a's. It was lateish in the afternoon when I finally returned to my quarters, and I was greeted when I did by a letter on a silver tray perched upon the end table.

A bit of a lengthy read, but when I'd finished, the Wooster eyes were bugging and the jaw dropped wide enough that I feared for the well-being of any flying insects who might have happened to be passing. What in blazes were Claude and Eustace doing aboard the Calypso, and how has they managed to get themselves entangled with Florence Craye, of all people? Perhaps more importantly, what was said Florence doing aboard ( ... )

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jr_ganymede January 12 2008, 13:03:56 UTC
Jeeves shimmers in only moments later from his own quarters - hair sleek, posture impeccable, and some sort of correspondence held lightly in his left hand. His other hand is gently on the door handle. His hat and jacket are hung up somewhere behind him, because he is down to shirtsleeves. It is possible that the bathroom required another round of cleaning. This ship's surfaces seem to be overly conducive to grime.

"Good afternoon, sir. I trust you are well?"

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bertiewwooster January 13 2008, 08:48:31 UTC
I was, I'll not hesitate to say, astounded by the chappie's sheer cheek. Anyone would have been able to see that Bertram Wilberforce W. was not a man in the pink of things, and certainly a bird of Jeeves's cranial capacities more than most. I lifted the bean from where it was nestling between my hands and looked Jeeves disbelievingly in the eye.

'Well, Jeeves?' I echoed, putting as much soupiness into it as I could muster, 'Do I bally well look like a well man, Jeeves? No, I am most decidedly not well.'

I brandished the letter, waving the thing about in the air as if it were a flag in a gale. 'Have you read this Jeeves, I ask you?'

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jr_ganymede January 13 2008, 17:00:50 UTC
"My apologies, sir. And no, sir, I did not take the liberty."

He sets his own letter on the end table, shimmering forward to take the offered one from Mr. Wooster. He makes short work of it, head canted, one eyebrow quirked the merest fraction of an centimeter as he goes. Somewhere around the end is the softest suggestion of a 'tsk' sound, and when he offers the note back, he inhales deeply.

"It appears that there is some sorting out to be done, sir. I highly doubt that I am incorrect in my assumption that you do not enjoy the idea of becoming again betrothed to the individual in question."

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bertiewwooster February 5 2008, 18:56:42 UTC
Well, with Jeeves gone, it seemed there was naught for Bertram to do but follow his advice and seek out the help of Laurie's man. There was still a part of me which was a dashed sight reluctant to follow through- suspicions about Jeeves and the chap in question, you understand- but I shoved those into a drawer in the back of my mind and set off ( ... )

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jr_ganymede February 23 2008, 19:10:03 UTC
It is in fact a few minutes (four, if one is being precise) after Bertram reenters the residence that Jeeves returns, silently shimmering in and ridding himself of hat and gloves. The wind has brought forth some colour in his cheeks again - just a light dusting, and a bit on the bridge of that nose of his as well - other than this, however, he looks as calm and composed as he ever has.

"Sir," he greets cordially, setting his bowler on its hook and straightening his jacket slightly. "I hope you found Mr. Redding with little trouble?"

("He clearly understands that something is amiss," Redding intoned as he watched the water, eyes glittering, perhaps a little pleased with himself. "I admit I wasn't as subtle as I had planned to be, but I do believe the desired result was gained."

"I am most grateful for your assistance." Jeeves, amazingly, smiled.)

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bertiewwooster February 23 2008, 19:24:32 UTC
Upon returning to the humble, temporary abode, I'd flung myself down into a chair, prepared to wrack the grey matter en re. the subject of the soupy behaviour of one Redding, valet to my chum Laurie and chum to my own valet. The whole thing was so rummy it hardly bore thinking about, and despite my attempts to ignore any thoughts about possible Greek relations between Redding and Jeeves, they kept cropping up. The way the bird had perked up when he heard Jeeves's name... well, it was suspect. And that little veiled smile he'd given self at the end there... I didn't trust it. Not at all ( ... )

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jr_ganymede February 23 2008, 19:30:45 UTC
Jeeves cants his head to one side, lips quirked in that subtle way of his. "I could not say, sir." It is said in that tone which means It's not something I can tell you, with every respect intended. It's usually a tone reserved for the Ganymede Book or some other holy scripture of his.

"Did he seem agreeable to our plan?"

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bertiewwooster February 23 2008, 20:38:30 UTC
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 ( ... )

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jr_ganymede February 23 2008, 22:24:57 UTC
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.

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bertiewwooster February 23 2008, 22:38:01 UTC
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?'

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jr_ganymede February 23 2008, 22:41:16 UTC
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.

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bertiewwooster February 24 2008, 00:12:17 UTC
'Dash it, Jeeves, that's not what I mean and you bally well know it!'

I'm ashamed to say my voice trembled ever so slightly when I spoke. Well, perhaps a little bit more than slightly, but could you blame me? If you were to perhaps cease from unnecessarily concealing your feelings, Jeeves had said, as unconcerned as you like, as though it were an 'Indeed, sir,' or any other such thing that I heard from him on a daily basis. For months I'd been as careful as I positively could; not letting the tiniest hint, the slightest suggestion of the decidedly Classical regard in which I held Jeeves slip. But he knew. He was Jeeves, of course he knew; he always had been able to read the young master like a book, and apparently he'd read me very well indeed ( ... )

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jr_ganymede February 24 2008, 00:17:30 UTC
The silence stretches for a few moments.

Before long, though, a pair of immaculately polished shoes come into Bertie's floor-bound view, silent as ever, as Jeeves closes in carefully and curls a steadying hand around Bertram's left elbow. Beneath the very measured and capable strength of the man, there is the tiniest of trembles in response to the young master's. It's hardly there, but Reginald can't tamp it down for the life of him.

"That was never my intent, sir."

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bertiewwooster February 24 2008, 00:28:34 UTC
I might have said something over the course of the rather awkward silence that ensued after I spoke, but my heart seemed to have migrated up to somewhere in the region of my throat and was currently beating loud enough that you could dance to it, which made speech decidedly difficult ( ... )

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jr_ganymede February 24 2008, 00:34:13 UTC
Jeeves's eyes remain locked on Bertram's. They're not completely open, not exactly, but there's some new dimension to them that wasn't there before - some strange and powerful emotion that until now had not been permitted to be seen. "I did, sir." The hand stays firmly in place. It's not gripping him or steadying him - it's just a gesture, which sort of says everything. Touching him for the sake of it. "I took some time to ensure that it was not a passing fancy on your part, or a misguided interest, but... yes, for some time now."

Somewhere on the floor, there are shattered porcelain shards. But that doesn't matter. Jeeves's thumb is rubbing gentle, minute circles into the inside of Bertram's elbow.

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bertiewwooster February 24 2008, 21:57:38 UTC
I mentioned Jeeves's eyes earlier? Well, I have to add now, I've got the distinct impression that they've got some sort of hypnotising power to them. They were locked on mine in a way that made me think there might well be sparks flying between them, and he was leaning forward ever so slightly. Something in the back of the old onion was leaping about in mad circles and whooping at the top of its voice, and I trembled even more than I had been doing before because, unless I was very much mistaken, this was the point where the two heroes of the story kiss ( ... )

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jr_ganymede February 24 2008, 22:17:48 UTC
The kiss is passionate, if it must be summed up in a word. Jeeves's mouth is startlingly warm, pliant at first, then more firm as some patience is lost. The hand at Bertram's elbow slides to the curve of his waist, gently for a brief moment before holding him firmly, capably. All the better for Jeeves to press in and connect their bodies completely. It's appropriate that for all Bertram's height, Jeeves is taller still - the way Jeeves moves, tilts Bertram's chin back just so slightly to obtain a better angle... he's clearly a top.

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bertiewwooster February 24 2008, 22:38:25 UTC
I gasped into the chap's mouth as the kiss rapidly bridged the gap between 'chaste' and 'utterly bally breathtaking and involving things I hadn't before known you could even do with your tongue.'

It was... dash it, I can't even describe it. Suffice it say it sent thrills all the way down to my toes and then back up again to do gymnastics in the general area of my torso. It seemed that beneath the generally calm and implacable surface Jeeves presented to all and sundry lurked a positively tiger-like ferocity. I more than approved. It didn't take long for me to get into the spirit of the thing, and I brought the hands up to clutch at Jeeves's back and bring him even closer, if that was possible.

After several very long, breathless moments, I broke away with a cheeky sort of nibble on Jeeves's lower lip.

'I say, Jeeves, that was- well, dash it! You've been hiding your light under the bushel most unfairly, old thing.'

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jr_ganymede February 24 2008, 22:43:06 UTC
"I quite enjoyed that as well, sir." Jeeves allows a brief, we're-sharing-a-secret sort of smile that is warm as anything. "...and confess to having other ideas as well." The hand at Bertram's hip slides, almost casually, to his lower back, then just a touch further. Gaging Bertram's reaction, here, very much interested but also intent on not scaring him off.

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