Fic: Bertie Puts His Foot Down
Title: Bertie Puts His Foot Down
Rating: G
Warning: A bit of angst, but not much. I suppose parts of it could be considered fluffy.
Disclaimer: The boys belong to Wodehouse, not to me.
A/N: This fic is about 1,300 words. It's a bit of a present for my LJ friends and anyone else who just happens to surf in here.
Bertie noticed it during lunch, then again during dinner. No one else would have spotted anything unusual, but Bertie knew his valet better than anyone else did. Jeeves, that paragon of marvels, was in pain.
It was the faintest drawing together of the ebony brows, the slightly furrowed forehead and the way his lips were pressed together that betrayed Jeeves to Bertie. No one noticed, Bertie knew, because Jeeves was performing his duties as flawlessly as he ever had.
As the guests withdrew from the table, Bertie motioned to Jeeves.
“Can you meet me upstairs for a moment, Jeeves?” he asked, keeping his voice low so that no one could overhear. “It’s quite urgent.”
“Of course, sir,” Jeeves said. “If you will give me a moment to assist...”
“Jeeves,” Bertie interrupted. “It’s really very urgent that I see you now.”
Jeeves inclined his head in a polite fashion. “After you, sir.”
Bertie waved at Angela and Tuppy. “Back in a mo.’”
Tuppy waved back and yawned, rubbing his portly stomach.
Bertie observed Jeeves as they climbed the stairs to Bertie’s room. His valet’s pursed lips were even more pronounced, and beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. Fear tightened Bertie’s chest. Jeeves had never looked this ill.
“Close the door, will you, Jeeves?” Bertie asked once they entered the room. “And come over here and sit down.”
“Sir, I really should return to the dining room to assist the household staff,” Jeeves said.
“And I really think you should do as I ask for once,” Bertie retorted. He took Jeeves’ arm and ushered him to the chair. Jeeves sat down a bit less gracefully than he usually did.
Bertie pulled the ottoman near the chair, sat down and waited. He examined his wristwatch in a pointed fashion and waited some more.
“All right, Jeeves,” Bertie said finally. “Out with it. What’s wrong?”
“I am perfectly well, sir.”
“No, you’re not. I saw you at lunch and then at dinner. You’re not well at all.”
“The dining room was perhaps a bit warm, sir.”
Bertie cast a careful eye over his valet, examining him from the top of his head to the soles of his shoes. Jeeves’ pale face and ocean-blue eyes betrayed nothing. But the white-knuckled fingers gripping the chair and the awkward way his feet were positioned told Bertie everything.
“It’s back, isn’t it?” Bertie asked, his voice gentle. “You need to tell me the truth, Jeeves.”
Jeeves nodded.
“When? We’ve been at Brinkley Court for four days. I suppose it happened after the first night?”
Jeeves nodded again.
“Let me have a look.” Bertie lifted Jeeves’ right leg and pulled it across his lap, rolled up the black trouser leg and gasped.
“Jeeves,” he said, “this is the worst I’ve seen it. Your leg is swollen from your ankle to your knee.”
Without waiting for Jeeves to say anything, Bertie untied Jeeves’ shoe and carefully removed it from his swollen foot. Then Bertie peeled off the garter and sock.
The flesh underneath Bertie’s hands felt tight and and looked ready to burst. The garter and sock had cut deep grooves in Jeeves’ calf, and Bertie could see the imprint of his shoe.
“Oh, Jeeves,” Bertie said as he ran his fingers up and down Jeeves’ shin. “You should have said something earlier. Why didn’t you?”
“I thought if I rested in the afternoons the problem would resolve itself, sir.”
Bertie shook his head. “That never works. You should know that by now, old thing. Let’s get you on the bed so we can get the other shoe off.”
“I am fine here, sir,” Jeeves began, but Bertie cut him off once more.
“It’s for your own good, Jeeves. You know what the doctor said. You have to keep your feet elevatored.”
Jeeves gave Bertie a tired smile. “I believe you mean elevated, sir.”
“That’s the word,” Bertie said. He placed Jeeves’ foot on the floor, then rose from the ottoman. Moving to Jeeves’ side, Bertie placed one hand under his arm. “Up you get.”
Jeeves got to his feet and with Bertie’s help, hobbled to the bed. He sat down and allowed Bertie to lift his legs so that he could stretch out comfortably. Bertie removed Jeeves’ other shoe, sock and garter and shook his head at what he found.
“This one is even worse, if you can credit it,” Bertie said. He took one foot in hand and began a gentle massage, from the tips of the swollen toes, down the instep, to the heel and around the ankle. He smoothed his hands up the calf and smiled as Jeeves sighed in relief.
“You are expected downstairs, sir,” Jeeves said, his voice faint and tired. “Perhaps you should join Mr. and Mrs. Glossop.”
“I will,” Bertie said as he began on the other foot. “I want to take care of you first. Just lie back and have a kip.”
“Just for a moment, sir.”
It was quiet in the room, perfect for considering what to do, Bertie thought. Jeeves wouldn’t like it, but enough was enough.
“Jeeves,” he said after several long moments. “I believe your serving days are done.”
He felt Jeeves stiffen under his hands. “Sir, you cannot...”
“Oh, yes I can,” Bertie said. “You’ve been on your feet for the twenty years we’ve been together, and that’s ending now. Not us being together, I mean to say, but your serving at the table. I’ll have no more of it.”
“Sir, I must protest,” Jeeves said. “I am expected to assist at the houses we visit.”
“Then you’ll stay home and relax, and I will visit on my own,” Bertie said, his voice firm. “I don’t like to be without you, but there’s nothing else for it.”
Bertie stood and reached across the bed for the extra pillows. He placed these under Jeeves’ ankles, then unbuttoned Jeeves’ coat and waistcoat and loosened his tie. Jeeves didn’t protest this treatment, proving to Bertie how much his valet had been suffering all through dinner.
“Just rest for a bit, Jeeves,” Bertie said. “And we’re going home in the morning. I’ll just go down and tell Angela I’m sickening for something. She has a horror of illness. Then I’ll leg it back here and pack.”
Jeeves looked at Bertie, his expression filled with alarm. “Sir, the packing is best done by me.”
“I’m sure it is, Jeeves, but for once you’ll let me do it.” He smiled at Jeeves, then ran his fingers through the silver hair at his valet’s temples. “And when we get back, you’re going to see the doctor again. Maybe something else can be done.”
“Perhaps, sir, though I do not know what that might be.”
“We’ll have to wait and see,” Bertie said. He leaned over and placed a kiss on each of Jeeves’ ankles, then straightened up once more. “I’ll be back quite soon. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Perhaps a few moments rest will help, sir. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it, Jeeves.” Bertie went to the door, but turned back for a moment. “Would you like to go somewhere? Somewhere warm and sunny? Once your legs get better?”
Jeeves nodded. “That would be lovely, sir. Shall I plan an itinerary?”
“Yes.” Bertie grinned at Jeeves. “Somewhere very private so you can get some...rest.” He raised his eyebrows in a meaningful fashion.
Jeeves raised an eyebrow of his own. “Bermuda comes to mind, sir. There are any number of cottages available.”
“Book the trip, Jeeves, and we’ll be off.” Bertie looked at his wristwatch. “I’ll be back in half an hour.”
“I’ll be waiting, sir.”
Bertie swallowed hard. “You’re going to get better, Jeeves. I promise.”
“I know that, sir.”
“I love you, Jeeves. I always have.”
“And I you, sir. More than you know.”
Rating: G
Warning: A bit of angst, but not much. I suppose parts of it could be considered fluffy.
Disclaimer: The boys belong to Wodehouse, not to me.
A/N: This fic is about 1,300 words. It's a bit of a present for my LJ friends and anyone else who just happens to surf in here.
Bertie noticed it during lunch, then again during dinner. No one else would have spotted anything unusual, but Bertie knew his valet better than anyone else did. Jeeves, that paragon of marvels, was in pain.
It was the faintest drawing together of the ebony brows, the slightly furrowed forehead and the way his lips were pressed together that betrayed Jeeves to Bertie. No one noticed, Bertie knew, because Jeeves was performing his duties as flawlessly as he ever had.
As the guests withdrew from the table, Bertie motioned to Jeeves.
“Can you meet me upstairs for a moment, Jeeves?” he asked, keeping his voice low so that no one could overhear. “It’s quite urgent.”
“Of course, sir,” Jeeves said. “If you will give me a moment to assist...”
“Jeeves,” Bertie interrupted. “It’s really very urgent that I see you now.”
Jeeves inclined his head in a polite fashion. “After you, sir.”
Bertie waved at Angela and Tuppy. “Back in a mo.’”
Tuppy waved back and yawned, rubbing his portly stomach.
Bertie observed Jeeves as they climbed the stairs to Bertie’s room. His valet’s pursed lips were even more pronounced, and beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. Fear tightened Bertie’s chest. Jeeves had never looked this ill.
“Close the door, will you, Jeeves?” Bertie asked once they entered the room. “And come over here and sit down.”
“Sir, I really should return to the dining room to assist the household staff,” Jeeves said.
“And I really think you should do as I ask for once,” Bertie retorted. He took Jeeves’ arm and ushered him to the chair. Jeeves sat down a bit less gracefully than he usually did.
Bertie pulled the ottoman near the chair, sat down and waited. He examined his wristwatch in a pointed fashion and waited some more.
“All right, Jeeves,” Bertie said finally. “Out with it. What’s wrong?”
“I am perfectly well, sir.”
“No, you’re not. I saw you at lunch and then at dinner. You’re not well at all.”
“The dining room was perhaps a bit warm, sir.”
Bertie cast a careful eye over his valet, examining him from the top of his head to the soles of his shoes. Jeeves’ pale face and ocean-blue eyes betrayed nothing. But the white-knuckled fingers gripping the chair and the awkward way his feet were positioned told Bertie everything.
“It’s back, isn’t it?” Bertie asked, his voice gentle. “You need to tell me the truth, Jeeves.”
Jeeves nodded.
“When? We’ve been at Brinkley Court for four days. I suppose it happened after the first night?”
Jeeves nodded again.
“Let me have a look.” Bertie lifted Jeeves’ right leg and pulled it across his lap, rolled up the black trouser leg and gasped.
“Jeeves,” he said, “this is the worst I’ve seen it. Your leg is swollen from your ankle to your knee.”
Without waiting for Jeeves to say anything, Bertie untied Jeeves’ shoe and carefully removed it from his swollen foot. Then Bertie peeled off the garter and sock.
The flesh underneath Bertie’s hands felt tight and and looked ready to burst. The garter and sock had cut deep grooves in Jeeves’ calf, and Bertie could see the imprint of his shoe.
“Oh, Jeeves,” Bertie said as he ran his fingers up and down Jeeves’ shin. “You should have said something earlier. Why didn’t you?”
“I thought if I rested in the afternoons the problem would resolve itself, sir.”
Bertie shook his head. “That never works. You should know that by now, old thing. Let’s get you on the bed so we can get the other shoe off.”
“I am fine here, sir,” Jeeves began, but Bertie cut him off once more.
“It’s for your own good, Jeeves. You know what the doctor said. You have to keep your feet elevatored.”
Jeeves gave Bertie a tired smile. “I believe you mean elevated, sir.”
“That’s the word,” Bertie said. He placed Jeeves’ foot on the floor, then rose from the ottoman. Moving to Jeeves’ side, Bertie placed one hand under his arm. “Up you get.”
Jeeves got to his feet and with Bertie’s help, hobbled to the bed. He sat down and allowed Bertie to lift his legs so that he could stretch out comfortably. Bertie removed Jeeves’ other shoe, sock and garter and shook his head at what he found.
“This one is even worse, if you can credit it,” Bertie said. He took one foot in hand and began a gentle massage, from the tips of the swollen toes, down the instep, to the heel and around the ankle. He smoothed his hands up the calf and smiled as Jeeves sighed in relief.
“You are expected downstairs, sir,” Jeeves said, his voice faint and tired. “Perhaps you should join Mr. and Mrs. Glossop.”
“I will,” Bertie said as he began on the other foot. “I want to take care of you first. Just lie back and have a kip.”
“Just for a moment, sir.”
It was quiet in the room, perfect for considering what to do, Bertie thought. Jeeves wouldn’t like it, but enough was enough.
“Jeeves,” he said after several long moments. “I believe your serving days are done.”
He felt Jeeves stiffen under his hands. “Sir, you cannot...”
“Oh, yes I can,” Bertie said. “You’ve been on your feet for the twenty years we’ve been together, and that’s ending now. Not us being together, I mean to say, but your serving at the table. I’ll have no more of it.”
“Sir, I must protest,” Jeeves said. “I am expected to assist at the houses we visit.”
“Then you’ll stay home and relax, and I will visit on my own,” Bertie said, his voice firm. “I don’t like to be without you, but there’s nothing else for it.”
Bertie stood and reached across the bed for the extra pillows. He placed these under Jeeves’ ankles, then unbuttoned Jeeves’ coat and waistcoat and loosened his tie. Jeeves didn’t protest this treatment, proving to Bertie how much his valet had been suffering all through dinner.
“Just rest for a bit, Jeeves,” Bertie said. “And we’re going home in the morning. I’ll just go down and tell Angela I’m sickening for something. She has a horror of illness. Then I’ll leg it back here and pack.”
Jeeves looked at Bertie, his expression filled with alarm. “Sir, the packing is best done by me.”
“I’m sure it is, Jeeves, but for once you’ll let me do it.” He smiled at Jeeves, then ran his fingers through the silver hair at his valet’s temples. “And when we get back, you’re going to see the doctor again. Maybe something else can be done.”
“Perhaps, sir, though I do not know what that might be.”
“We’ll have to wait and see,” Bertie said. He leaned over and placed a kiss on each of Jeeves’ ankles, then straightened up once more. “I’ll be back quite soon. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Perhaps a few moments rest will help, sir. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it, Jeeves.” Bertie went to the door, but turned back for a moment. “Would you like to go somewhere? Somewhere warm and sunny? Once your legs get better?”
Jeeves nodded. “That would be lovely, sir. Shall I plan an itinerary?”
“Yes.” Bertie grinned at Jeeves. “Somewhere very private so you can get some...rest.” He raised his eyebrows in a meaningful fashion.
Jeeves raised an eyebrow of his own. “Bermuda comes to mind, sir. There are any number of cottages available.”
“Book the trip, Jeeves, and we’ll be off.” Bertie looked at his wristwatch. “I’ll be back in half an hour.”
“I’ll be waiting, sir.”
Bertie swallowed hard. “You’re going to get better, Jeeves. I promise.”
“I know that, sir.”
“I love you, Jeeves. I always have.”
“And I you, sir. More than you know.”