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darktrent182TITLE: Once More, With Feeling
DISCLAIMER: Jeeves and Wooster don't belong to me -- they belong to P.G. Wodehouse. Written for entertainment purposes, no money made, please don't sue, yadda. The only character I own is Hannigan.
FANDOM: Jeeves & Wooster
WORD COUNT: 2,471
RATING: G
SUMMARY: Bertie gets back to the flat, has a chat with Jeeves, and thinks things over.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Follows Standing Firm. Partially unbeta'd, so all the mistakes are my own doing. Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
gaffsie, tootsiemuppet, and rhapsody_iv for reading it over. If I forgot anyone, I will grovel and apologize profusely.
CHRONOLOGY:
1. Untitled Bertie Piece
2. On Mister Wooster
3. The Trouble with the Truth
4. Standing Firm
5. This Entry
***
It was a dashed wonderful night, I remember thinking to myself as I returned to the flat. I beamed at Jeeves when the door opened, and announced as much to him.
"Very good, sir," he said, accepting the hat and gloves I offered to him, and shimmering off to put them away. "I trust that the darts tournament went well, sir?"
"It certainly did," I replied, still grinning from ear to e. "You see before you the young master returned victorious from the field of battle."
"Indeed, sir?" He emerged from my bedroom, and shot me a politely curious look.
I nodded. "We were tied up until the end, but Oofy Prosser came up with the idea that we should play a seventh game, and I daresay, I won it by a nose."
"Congratulations, sir."
I smirked, inclining the coconut graciously. "Thank you, Jeeves. And now all that's left to make the night complete is a drink and true love's kiss."
If you didn't know Jeeves as well as I did, you wouldn't have noticed a change whatsoever, but after having had the man as my valet for quite some time, I picked up on it immediately. His shoulders quivered minutely, and his face rather resembled something like the Rock of Gibraltar in a rummy sort of way.
"Indeed, sir," he said firmly.
I frowned disapprovingly, finding myself having been given the pip. "Oh, come, Jeeves. Surely the kiss earlier wasn't as bad as all that."
Jeeves cleared his throat, much like that sheep on the distant hillside. "No, sir, but it was ill-advised."
"It wasn't as though we'd given each other a dashed good snog before I headed out," I pointed out reasonably. "Though I dare say I wouldn't have minded that one bit."
One of Jeeves' eyebrows rose a significant eighth of an inch before he turned to the small table and began to mix a drink for me. "Be that as it may, sir, it was imprudent."
I frowned, leaning against the wall as I watched him work, pouring the drink into a martini glass. I accepted it from his hands and took a small sip. "Imprudent? What rot. How was it imprudent?"
"Firstly, sir," began Jeeves as he peered at the picture hanging on the wall before adjusting it carefully, "Mister Little was in the adjacent room. Had he entered moments before, it is quite likely we would be having this conversation in prison."
"Oh, what rot, Jeeves!" I scoffed heartily. "I've known Bingo for years. He's not likely to run to the police because we had a kiss away from prying eyes."
"It was a breach of my personal code of conduct, sir," Jeeves continued, not unperturbed by my objections, but indeed anticipating them. He must have thought the whole thing through before I returned to the flat. This didn't bode well.
"Falling in love with your employer isn't exactly cricket, is it?" I returned the volley with a nasty tone.
Watching his profile, I saw Jeeves' jaw firm up before he looked at me. "No, sir."
"What's the bally problem, then?" I demanded to know, my good mood from earlier beginning to evaporate -- if that's the word I want. "We're both discreet, and I know that you jolly well enjoyed that kiss. I know I did."
"If you'll pardon me for saying so, sir, my enjoyment of the kiss is irrelevant. Propriety demands that I restrain myself from whatever urges I may fall prey to while in your presence."
I have to admit that that perked up Bertram more than a little. I rallied 'round, ready to give it another shot. "Surely, you can chuck propriety for the night, Jeeves. Pick it back up in the morning, what."
He paused for a moment, and I wondered if he was at all tempted by the Wooster form standing not a few feet away from him. "My apologies, but I must respectfully decline, sir."
"Blast it, Jeeves, don't you ever take a night to yourself and say, 'dash it, I'm going to go do something improper, and I'm going to like it'?" Jeeves' lifted an eyebrow at me again, and I felt the need to quickly elaborate. "Like... having one too many, perhaps?"
"Begging your pardon, sir," Jeeves said firmly, "but a great deal of degree separates taking a night to deliberately imbibe too much alcohol and participating in sexual congress with one's employer."
I nodded. "All right, you have me there, but dash it, Jeeves. I mean, really."
Jeeves gave me a rummy sort of look, and I had a bad feeling about what it could mean. "Sir, I feel it would be best if we did not pursue this topic of discussion further."
I blinked. "I say, what?" Surely, he couldn't have meant...
"I am requesting that we not speak on this matter in the future."
No, there had to be a way of convincing him. Jeeves always listened to reason, and while this might not have been about a new hat or a tie or something, I knew there was a way of bringing him 'round.
I reached out and touched his arm. "Jeeves--"
Jeeves froze, turning to pierce me where I stood with his eyes alone. Dashed rummy how effective that was.
I released his arm immediately, much like a well-trained animal of some sort. At a loss, I said, "Jeeves..."
"Sir, please consider this as a request from one friend to another."
The simple statement had all of the force of a thunderclap. Any other objections that I may have thought of died a quiet death in what little grey matter I had, and I took a step back.
It was a shock to realize that Jeeves had never before requested anything of me out of friendship. I was so used to all of my friends asking me for help and whatnot that it had completely escaped my mind that Jeeves himself had never asked a thing of me. It wasn't surprising, of course, because I was usually the one in the soup, but for Jeeves to ask me as a friend to refrain from pursuing the idea of any sort of romance together... it cut me to the quick.
"I..." The word popped out awkwardly before I recovered. "...very well, Jeeves." Suddenly remembering the glass in my hand, I took a sip and headed for my armchair, sucking at the martini contemplatively.
Jeeves eyed me for a moment before straightening his back. "Do you require anything else, sir?"
It was like watching Jeeves put on a jacket or whatnot, the transformation from Jeeves-the-potential-affair-de-coeur to Jeeves-the-valet. It was dashed irritating, to say the least.
"No, thank you, Jeeves."
He nodded once and shimmered into the kitchen.
A moment or so later (or possibly an hour, I'm not sure), I took a fortifying gulp of my drink, got up from my chair, and followed him in.
Jeeves was standing at the sink, scrubbing industriously at some pot or another. Not sure what to do, I leaned against the door jamb and watched him.
He was in shirtsleeves, which was about the closest that I've ever seen him to being undressed, and he didn't seem to notice me. His strong, dependable shoulders were straight, his hands working at what appeared to be a difficult bit of whatnot on the plate. His profile was as handsome as it usually was, calm and composed and looking almost at peace with the world.
I cleared my throat. "Jeeves?"
Jeeves looked up at me, not looking at all surprised at my presence. "Yes, sir?"
I paused for a moment before I pushed the statement out. Even if it went against his request, the need to ask was undeniable. "Is there any way that this Wooster can convince you to reconsider?"
Jeeves' gaze dropped from mine, and he turned back to the dishes. He shook his head. "I do not believe so, sir."
I was silent for a long moment, and then I nodded, admitting defeat. "All right."
There was more bally silence, and so I retired from the kitchen to the sitting room, laying down on the couch with my drink in hand and sighing not a little. I had thought that perhaps returning with the laurel wreath on my brow, I could win Jeeves over, but it seemed not to be the case. The trouble of it was, I was dashed if I knew what was wrong. We had a chaste kiss in the kitchen, and now it was as though I were persona non grata, if that's the phrase I want.
It had been a while since I first realized my attraction to Jeeves, and undoubtedly, the marvel had deduced it after a flash of the Wooster's eyes. After his taking the truth whatzit a few days...
I nearly dropped the glass in my hand.
He was still under the influence of that dratted stuff, I was sure of it. And I, being the fool that I am, got swept up in the night of victory and neglected this rather important fact. I'd attempted to make my case with him, and he was still forced to speak his mind about the truth. It had been dashed unfair of me to do that to him, and I had half a mind to jump up from the sofa, leap to the kitchen in a mighty bound, and apologize whole-heartedly.
What stopped me from doing so was the way that Jeeves had been looking since I'd returned home.
Even when he'd opened the door to find the Wooster, he'd seemed... different somehow. As though he'd been giving things a very good think, and he'd either come to some sort of decision, or he'd been waiting to see... something. Dashed if I knew what that something was, of course, but telling from the way he gave the young master the rummy eye in the kitchen, Bertram Wooster had failed somehow.
It had to have been because I pushed my case much too hard on the old boy. I know that he loves me, and I was using that knowledge to convince him, when all I succeeded in accomplishing was to scaring him away.
To discover that my preux chevalier outlook disappeared when my gentleman's personal gentleman hove into view rather gave me the pip.
I had prided myself on being a gentleman, and here I was, using every trick in the book to convince Jeeves to take up with me.
A nasty sort of shock came to me just then. Why should he take up with this Wooster?
It's known to all and whatzit that I'm not a brainy cove, but rather lean on the grey matter more than a little, and when you look at me, I've been described as 'sylph-like' by a few friends and 'willowy' by others still, but I know painfully so that I never got used to my being tall and long of limb. My suits all fit, of course, and rather emphasize the good features about it, but there's something uncomfortable about how far away the ground really is from the old coconut, especially when you take a nasty slip.
And that's nothing to say besides my regrettable tendency to get into the soup at a moment's notice. I try my best to help out my fellow Drones and other friends out of the soup, but as soon as Jeeves' back is turned, it seems, I'm in the soup all the way up to my eyebrows, and only he can extract me again. What sort of chap would want to love someone who can't even get himself out of sticky spots, what?
It's true that Jeeves admitted that he loved me while under the Hannigan's bally concoction, but was it an attraction he didn't wish to have? Was he, at this very moment, wishing that I had more in the brains department, or the looks, or some other bally thing that I didn't possess in great qualities, though I'll be dashed if I knew what?
It was a rather chilling thought that I shivered. What does one do when you know the bird you love wants more out of you than you knew how to give, much less improve upon?
What sort of catch was the Wooster to try to win over such a marvel as Jeeves to his bed?
The answers didn't show and present themselves for inspection then or a few hours later, when Jeeves emerged from the kitchen, looking rather immaculate despite doing all manner of things in the kitchen that I could only dream of, which was rummy all by itself. Needless to say, Bertram Wooster was a man disgruntled when he changed into his nightclothes, brushed his teeth, and climbed into the down-turned bed Jeeves had prepared.
"Will that be all, sir?" Jeeves asked.
"Yes, thank you, Jeeves," I answered, more out of habit. Looking up at him, his face didn't look any different than any other time he'd tucked me into bed.
"Breakfast at the usual hour, sir?"
"Yes, thank you, Jeeves." I reached over and clicked off the bedside lamp. "Good night."
"Good night, sir." Click went the light, and then Jeeves shimmered out as he always did, easing the door shut behind him.
I stared up at the ceiling, the coconut buzzing with thoughts.
Jeeves loved me. He'd told me as much, and well... even if there were some things that Bertram Wooster lacked, he could make up for it in other ways. I mean, that is to say, there had to be something that the young master had that was worthwhile, what? The charm is not insubstantial, after all, and there was the Wooster's good heart to consider, which had won over a number of ladies in the past. And, somehow, I had managed to win Jeeves over, at least a little.
This Wooster may not be the brainiest fellow, or entirely that attractive to the male eye, but there had to be a way to convince him still. Hope springs e. and all that.
And even if the young master may be lacking in the grey matter, he can still take a page (or even a chapter) or two from Jeeves' book and silently observe for a while, see if there was any way of reaching him.
If indeed the attraction was welcome, then I could wait and make my case again. Sooner or later, Jeeves would have to come 'round to seeing things my way. He can't possibly refuse if he wants to love me.
On the other hand, if the attraction to the young master was unwelcome...
It was better not to dwell on it.
And with that last thought, I dropped off to the dreamless like a very large stone.
END
DISCLAIMER: Jeeves and Wooster don't belong to me -- they belong to P.G. Wodehouse. Written for entertainment purposes, no money made, please don't sue, yadda. The only character I own is Hannigan.
FANDOM: Jeeves & Wooster
WORD COUNT: 2,471
RATING: G
SUMMARY: Bertie gets back to the flat, has a chat with Jeeves, and thinks things over.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Follows Standing Firm. Partially unbeta'd, so all the mistakes are my own doing. Thanks to
gaffsie, tootsiemuppet, and rhapsody_iv for reading it over. If I forgot anyone, I will grovel and apologize profusely.CHRONOLOGY:
1. Untitled Bertie Piece
2. On Mister Wooster
3. The Trouble with the Truth
4. Standing Firm
5. This Entry
***
It was a dashed wonderful night, I remember thinking to myself as I returned to the flat. I beamed at Jeeves when the door opened, and announced as much to him.
"Very good, sir," he said, accepting the hat and gloves I offered to him, and shimmering off to put them away. "I trust that the darts tournament went well, sir?"
"It certainly did," I replied, still grinning from ear to e. "You see before you the young master returned victorious from the field of battle."
"Indeed, sir?" He emerged from my bedroom, and shot me a politely curious look.
I nodded. "We were tied up until the end, but Oofy Prosser came up with the idea that we should play a seventh game, and I daresay, I won it by a nose."
"Congratulations, sir."
I smirked, inclining the coconut graciously. "Thank you, Jeeves. And now all that's left to make the night complete is a drink and true love's kiss."
If you didn't know Jeeves as well as I did, you wouldn't have noticed a change whatsoever, but after having had the man as my valet for quite some time, I picked up on it immediately. His shoulders quivered minutely, and his face rather resembled something like the Rock of Gibraltar in a rummy sort of way.
"Indeed, sir," he said firmly.
I frowned disapprovingly, finding myself having been given the pip. "Oh, come, Jeeves. Surely the kiss earlier wasn't as bad as all that."
Jeeves cleared his throat, much like that sheep on the distant hillside. "No, sir, but it was ill-advised."
"It wasn't as though we'd given each other a dashed good snog before I headed out," I pointed out reasonably. "Though I dare say I wouldn't have minded that one bit."
One of Jeeves' eyebrows rose a significant eighth of an inch before he turned to the small table and began to mix a drink for me. "Be that as it may, sir, it was imprudent."
I frowned, leaning against the wall as I watched him work, pouring the drink into a martini glass. I accepted it from his hands and took a small sip. "Imprudent? What rot. How was it imprudent?"
"Firstly, sir," began Jeeves as he peered at the picture hanging on the wall before adjusting it carefully, "Mister Little was in the adjacent room. Had he entered moments before, it is quite likely we would be having this conversation in prison."
"Oh, what rot, Jeeves!" I scoffed heartily. "I've known Bingo for years. He's not likely to run to the police because we had a kiss away from prying eyes."
"It was a breach of my personal code of conduct, sir," Jeeves continued, not unperturbed by my objections, but indeed anticipating them. He must have thought the whole thing through before I returned to the flat. This didn't bode well.
"Falling in love with your employer isn't exactly cricket, is it?" I returned the volley with a nasty tone.
Watching his profile, I saw Jeeves' jaw firm up before he looked at me. "No, sir."
"What's the bally problem, then?" I demanded to know, my good mood from earlier beginning to evaporate -- if that's the word I want. "We're both discreet, and I know that you jolly well enjoyed that kiss. I know I did."
"If you'll pardon me for saying so, sir, my enjoyment of the kiss is irrelevant. Propriety demands that I restrain myself from whatever urges I may fall prey to while in your presence."
I have to admit that that perked up Bertram more than a little. I rallied 'round, ready to give it another shot. "Surely, you can chuck propriety for the night, Jeeves. Pick it back up in the morning, what."
He paused for a moment, and I wondered if he was at all tempted by the Wooster form standing not a few feet away from him. "My apologies, but I must respectfully decline, sir."
"Blast it, Jeeves, don't you ever take a night to yourself and say, 'dash it, I'm going to go do something improper, and I'm going to like it'?" Jeeves' lifted an eyebrow at me again, and I felt the need to quickly elaborate. "Like... having one too many, perhaps?"
"Begging your pardon, sir," Jeeves said firmly, "but a great deal of degree separates taking a night to deliberately imbibe too much alcohol and participating in sexual congress with one's employer."
I nodded. "All right, you have me there, but dash it, Jeeves. I mean, really."
Jeeves gave me a rummy sort of look, and I had a bad feeling about what it could mean. "Sir, I feel it would be best if we did not pursue this topic of discussion further."
I blinked. "I say, what?" Surely, he couldn't have meant...
"I am requesting that we not speak on this matter in the future."
No, there had to be a way of convincing him. Jeeves always listened to reason, and while this might not have been about a new hat or a tie or something, I knew there was a way of bringing him 'round.
I reached out and touched his arm. "Jeeves--"
Jeeves froze, turning to pierce me where I stood with his eyes alone. Dashed rummy how effective that was.
I released his arm immediately, much like a well-trained animal of some sort. At a loss, I said, "Jeeves..."
"Sir, please consider this as a request from one friend to another."
The simple statement had all of the force of a thunderclap. Any other objections that I may have thought of died a quiet death in what little grey matter I had, and I took a step back.
It was a shock to realize that Jeeves had never before requested anything of me out of friendship. I was so used to all of my friends asking me for help and whatnot that it had completely escaped my mind that Jeeves himself had never asked a thing of me. It wasn't surprising, of course, because I was usually the one in the soup, but for Jeeves to ask me as a friend to refrain from pursuing the idea of any sort of romance together... it cut me to the quick.
"I..." The word popped out awkwardly before I recovered. "...very well, Jeeves." Suddenly remembering the glass in my hand, I took a sip and headed for my armchair, sucking at the martini contemplatively.
Jeeves eyed me for a moment before straightening his back. "Do you require anything else, sir?"
It was like watching Jeeves put on a jacket or whatnot, the transformation from Jeeves-the-potential-affair-de-coeur to Jeeves-the-valet. It was dashed irritating, to say the least.
"No, thank you, Jeeves."
He nodded once and shimmered into the kitchen.
A moment or so later (or possibly an hour, I'm not sure), I took a fortifying gulp of my drink, got up from my chair, and followed him in.
Jeeves was standing at the sink, scrubbing industriously at some pot or another. Not sure what to do, I leaned against the door jamb and watched him.
He was in shirtsleeves, which was about the closest that I've ever seen him to being undressed, and he didn't seem to notice me. His strong, dependable shoulders were straight, his hands working at what appeared to be a difficult bit of whatnot on the plate. His profile was as handsome as it usually was, calm and composed and looking almost at peace with the world.
I cleared my throat. "Jeeves?"
Jeeves looked up at me, not looking at all surprised at my presence. "Yes, sir?"
I paused for a moment before I pushed the statement out. Even if it went against his request, the need to ask was undeniable. "Is there any way that this Wooster can convince you to reconsider?"
Jeeves' gaze dropped from mine, and he turned back to the dishes. He shook his head. "I do not believe so, sir."
I was silent for a long moment, and then I nodded, admitting defeat. "All right."
There was more bally silence, and so I retired from the kitchen to the sitting room, laying down on the couch with my drink in hand and sighing not a little. I had thought that perhaps returning with the laurel wreath on my brow, I could win Jeeves over, but it seemed not to be the case. The trouble of it was, I was dashed if I knew what was wrong. We had a chaste kiss in the kitchen, and now it was as though I were persona non grata, if that's the phrase I want.
It had been a while since I first realized my attraction to Jeeves, and undoubtedly, the marvel had deduced it after a flash of the Wooster's eyes. After his taking the truth whatzit a few days...
I nearly dropped the glass in my hand.
He was still under the influence of that dratted stuff, I was sure of it. And I, being the fool that I am, got swept up in the night of victory and neglected this rather important fact. I'd attempted to make my case with him, and he was still forced to speak his mind about the truth. It had been dashed unfair of me to do that to him, and I had half a mind to jump up from the sofa, leap to the kitchen in a mighty bound, and apologize whole-heartedly.
What stopped me from doing so was the way that Jeeves had been looking since I'd returned home.
Even when he'd opened the door to find the Wooster, he'd seemed... different somehow. As though he'd been giving things a very good think, and he'd either come to some sort of decision, or he'd been waiting to see... something. Dashed if I knew what that something was, of course, but telling from the way he gave the young master the rummy eye in the kitchen, Bertram Wooster had failed somehow.
It had to have been because I pushed my case much too hard on the old boy. I know that he loves me, and I was using that knowledge to convince him, when all I succeeded in accomplishing was to scaring him away.
To discover that my preux chevalier outlook disappeared when my gentleman's personal gentleman hove into view rather gave me the pip.
I had prided myself on being a gentleman, and here I was, using every trick in the book to convince Jeeves to take up with me.
A nasty sort of shock came to me just then. Why should he take up with this Wooster?
It's known to all and whatzit that I'm not a brainy cove, but rather lean on the grey matter more than a little, and when you look at me, I've been described as 'sylph-like' by a few friends and 'willowy' by others still, but I know painfully so that I never got used to my being tall and long of limb. My suits all fit, of course, and rather emphasize the good features about it, but there's something uncomfortable about how far away the ground really is from the old coconut, especially when you take a nasty slip.
And that's nothing to say besides my regrettable tendency to get into the soup at a moment's notice. I try my best to help out my fellow Drones and other friends out of the soup, but as soon as Jeeves' back is turned, it seems, I'm in the soup all the way up to my eyebrows, and only he can extract me again. What sort of chap would want to love someone who can't even get himself out of sticky spots, what?
It's true that Jeeves admitted that he loved me while under the Hannigan's bally concoction, but was it an attraction he didn't wish to have? Was he, at this very moment, wishing that I had more in the brains department, or the looks, or some other bally thing that I didn't possess in great qualities, though I'll be dashed if I knew what?
It was a rather chilling thought that I shivered. What does one do when you know the bird you love wants more out of you than you knew how to give, much less improve upon?
What sort of catch was the Wooster to try to win over such a marvel as Jeeves to his bed?
The answers didn't show and present themselves for inspection then or a few hours later, when Jeeves emerged from the kitchen, looking rather immaculate despite doing all manner of things in the kitchen that I could only dream of, which was rummy all by itself. Needless to say, Bertram Wooster was a man disgruntled when he changed into his nightclothes, brushed his teeth, and climbed into the down-turned bed Jeeves had prepared.
"Will that be all, sir?" Jeeves asked.
"Yes, thank you, Jeeves," I answered, more out of habit. Looking up at him, his face didn't look any different than any other time he'd tucked me into bed.
"Breakfast at the usual hour, sir?"
"Yes, thank you, Jeeves." I reached over and clicked off the bedside lamp. "Good night."
"Good night, sir." Click went the light, and then Jeeves shimmered out as he always did, easing the door shut behind him.
I stared up at the ceiling, the coconut buzzing with thoughts.
Jeeves loved me. He'd told me as much, and well... even if there were some things that Bertram Wooster lacked, he could make up for it in other ways. I mean, that is to say, there had to be something that the young master had that was worthwhile, what? The charm is not insubstantial, after all, and there was the Wooster's good heart to consider, which had won over a number of ladies in the past. And, somehow, I had managed to win Jeeves over, at least a little.
This Wooster may not be the brainiest fellow, or entirely that attractive to the male eye, but there had to be a way to convince him still. Hope springs e. and all that.
And even if the young master may be lacking in the grey matter, he can still take a page (or even a chapter) or two from Jeeves' book and silently observe for a while, see if there was any way of reaching him.
If indeed the attraction was welcome, then I could wait and make my case again. Sooner or later, Jeeves would have to come 'round to seeing things my way. He can't possibly refuse if he wants to love me.
On the other hand, if the attraction to the young master was unwelcome...
It was better not to dwell on it.
And with that last thought, I dropped off to the dreamless like a very large stone.
END
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Yay!
Date: 2006-03-03 06:26 am (UTC)Eh, what?
I must say, there's nothing like seeing a nice spot of fic popping up on one's last refresh of the flist. *goes to reread and possible coalesce some thoughts into sentences of a coherent nature*
Re: Yay!
Date: 2006-03-03 06:37 am (UTC)Ack, this is what I get for not rereading completely!
Re: Yay!
From:Re: Yay!
From:Re: Yay!
From:Re: Yay!
From:no subject
Date: 2006-03-03 06:29 am (UTC)Wodeangst is about as difficult to write as Wodesex, man, and you've managed it fantastically. I commend you!
no subject
Date: 2006-03-03 06:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-03 02:15 pm (UTC)I hope you know your story is my new watchamacallit. firstborn? no, that's not quite right. obsession? somewhere nearer to the mark...
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2006-03-03 06:34 am (UTC)*goes back to quietly rooting for Bertie*
no subject
Date: 2006-03-03 06:38 am (UTC)Thanks! I'm always worried about Jeeves -- he's a stoic, but he's also human too.
*pets Bertie*
no subject
Date: 2006-03-03 06:36 am (UTC)My soul cries for closure. You are a wonderful writer. I thought about giving up slash for Lent, but the fact that I knew more of these were coming, it was impossible.
no subject
Date: 2006-03-03 06:39 am (UTC)Considering that a number of my Friends list are giving up fanfic and the like for Lent, I'm rather surprised that you're not doing it because I'll be working and posting stuff.
*more blushing*
no subject
Date: 2006-03-03 11:14 am (UTC)*claps hands* very good :D
no subject
Date: 2006-03-03 03:59 pm (UTC)George!
*cuddles her George plushie and straightens the aviator cap*
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2006-03-03 02:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-03 02:30 pm (UTC)*checks under some papers and brightens*
Here it is!
*sets
Hee. Glad you liked. ;)
*beams happily at remaining IC*
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2006-03-03 03:10 pm (UTC)Excellent job on the writing- it makes me feel like Wodehouse somehow found a way of writing more books, AND making them slashy! EEK! So excited to read more...
no subject
Date: 2006-03-03 04:00 pm (UTC)*scuffs toe*
Aw, shucks. #^^#
I dunno if I'd be on par with Wodehouse, but it's sweet of you to say so. *bows humbly*
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Date: 2006-03-03 03:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-03 04:04 pm (UTC)The next chapter should be up in a day or so. I don't want to have this one or #6 lost in the shuffle, so I figured it was best to time-delay the next one. And possibly revise, because there's stuff in this ending I didn't anticipate. Hmmm.
*rubs chin*
But yes, Bertie needs cuddles.
*cuddles her Bertie plushie*
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Date: 2006-03-03 03:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-03 04:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-03 05:22 pm (UTC)I still feel sorry for Jeeves and his code of conduct, though!
Excellent voices, and particularly nice Bertie-speak here!
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Date: 2006-03-03 06:09 pm (UTC)Glad you liked. :)
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Date: 2006-03-03 07:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-03 11:34 pm (UTC)Squee! *g*
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Date: 2006-03-03 10:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-03 11:32 pm (UTC)... um, that makes no sense to me...
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Date: 2006-03-04 12:02 am (UTC)Plus, Jeeves in shirtsleeves/working is so utterly my kink. XD
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Date: 2006-03-04 05:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-04 12:27 am (UTC)*catches breath*
Yeah, so, um. I'm really enjoying this series.
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Date: 2006-03-04 05:38 am (UTC)Squee!
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Date: 2008-03-23 09:49 am (UTC)It's tragic irony, really, since Jeeves is manfully restraining himself and such. But there are some very good points in this internal monologue, here, where Bertie wonders if perhaps the forced nature of the situation along with his general goofiness has sort of caused Jeeves to be less than... confident in his ability to keep mum, as it were. Although Jeeves' own thought processes seem to be more along the lines of quietly suffering for the young master's protection, one has to wonder if perhaps a bit more confidence in said y. m. would cause such issues to be less, er, prevalent.
Anyhow. Lovely fic.
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Date: 2008-03-23 07:34 pm (UTC)And, of course, here I am, trying to find your contact info, and there's nothing on your profile page! Alas!
Ah, well. We'll have to find each other some time and chat. :D
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