FIC: At Odds [Jeeves & Wooster]
Mar. 4th, 2006 05:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
darktrent182TITLE: At Odds
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: 588
RATING: G
SUMMARY: A week later, it is imperative to find a distraction.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Follows Once More, With Feeling. Partially unbeta'd, so all the mistakes are my own doing. To be honest, I can't remember who read it over, but I'm sure one of them was![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rhapsody_iv. I grovel and apologize profusely.
CHRONOLOGY:
1. Untitled Bertie Piece
2. On Mister Wooster
3. The Trouble with the Truth
4. Standing Firm
5. Once More, With Feeling
6. This Entry
***
Desperate times call for desperate measures, it appears.
Mister Wooster's insistence upon certain... liberties after returning home the conquering hero of the darts tournament was not unexpected, but it served as a reminder that if I mean to divert my employer's attentions from myself, I must do it soon, or my self-control may not last.
In the days following the tournament, I have noticed Mister Wooster has been remarkably quiet, watching my movements when he thinks I am not paying attention. I am not sure what he sees when he watches me, but he never tires of it. When I first entered Mister Wooster's employ, he would watch me move about the flat with a sort of awed look, as though I were something more than a capable and efficient valet. Now, however, his mouth rests closed, his brows lower just a little, and his eyes seem wistfully hopeless as they mark my every movement.
In the early days of my attraction to Mister Wooster, I found subtle, if inappropriate, ways of expressing my desire, though I am inclined to believe they were lost on Mister Wooster. There was nothing indecent -- a valet is, if I might take the liberty, poised, ever vigilant, and above all, discreet.
However, a favorite indulgence of mine had been to hand him a cup of tea, and while doing so, allow our fingers to brush. To receive such a touch was a moment of intimacy to treasure. While my employer had not freely given these careless touches to me, he allowed them without comment, merely accepting the cup with a winsome smile and drink.
Now, that little intimacy is not solely mine anymore. The guilty pleasure of touching his hand or his arm becomes a moment of startlement for Mister Wooster, despite the number of times it has happened over the past week. When our fingers touch, his eyes snap up to meet mine, bewildered and worried. The ready comparison of Mister Wooster to a kicked puppy is not remiss in this instance, I fear.
I have not replied to his questioning look when such physical contact occurs because I am unsure how best to respond. Mister Wooster has behaved as a gentleman befitting his station, and these small touches that I've treasured for so long now seem to cause more doubt and anxiety in my employer than the genial bemusement of the days before he knew of my attraction to him. I have stated that becoming more intimate with each other is unwelcome, but habits deeply ingrained over the past year tell him otherwise, if I'm not mistaken.
This is not right, and moreover, it is not fair to him.
With each passing day, he grows quieter, and has even begun the habit of reclining on the sofa, staring at a candelabrum or even a corner of the coffee table, deep in thought. Telling from his frustrated expression, wherever his thoughts have taken him has proved less than pleasant.
Now is the time that a distraction is most needed. Mister Wooster tends to have difficulty focusing on more than the immediate crisis he has been asked to deal with or to help solve, and as such, he would find it difficult to concentrate on his feelings for me whilst attempting to aid one of his friends "out of the soup", as he likes to call it.
I too would be better served by a distraction, if only to remind myself that succumbing to my employer's charms would be disastrous beyond measure.
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: 588
RATING: G
SUMMARY: A week later, it is imperative to find a distraction.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Follows Once More, With Feeling. Partially unbeta'd, so all the mistakes are my own doing. To be honest, I can't remember who read it over, but I'm sure one of them was
rhapsody_iv. I grovel and apologize profusely.CHRONOLOGY:
1. Untitled Bertie Piece
2. On Mister Wooster
3. The Trouble with the Truth
4. Standing Firm
5. Once More, With Feeling
6. This Entry
***
Desperate times call for desperate measures, it appears.
Mister Wooster's insistence upon certain... liberties after returning home the conquering hero of the darts tournament was not unexpected, but it served as a reminder that if I mean to divert my employer's attentions from myself, I must do it soon, or my self-control may not last.
In the days following the tournament, I have noticed Mister Wooster has been remarkably quiet, watching my movements when he thinks I am not paying attention. I am not sure what he sees when he watches me, but he never tires of it. When I first entered Mister Wooster's employ, he would watch me move about the flat with a sort of awed look, as though I were something more than a capable and efficient valet. Now, however, his mouth rests closed, his brows lower just a little, and his eyes seem wistfully hopeless as they mark my every movement.
In the early days of my attraction to Mister Wooster, I found subtle, if inappropriate, ways of expressing my desire, though I am inclined to believe they were lost on Mister Wooster. There was nothing indecent -- a valet is, if I might take the liberty, poised, ever vigilant, and above all, discreet.
However, a favorite indulgence of mine had been to hand him a cup of tea, and while doing so, allow our fingers to brush. To receive such a touch was a moment of intimacy to treasure. While my employer had not freely given these careless touches to me, he allowed them without comment, merely accepting the cup with a winsome smile and drink.
Now, that little intimacy is not solely mine anymore. The guilty pleasure of touching his hand or his arm becomes a moment of startlement for Mister Wooster, despite the number of times it has happened over the past week. When our fingers touch, his eyes snap up to meet mine, bewildered and worried. The ready comparison of Mister Wooster to a kicked puppy is not remiss in this instance, I fear.
I have not replied to his questioning look when such physical contact occurs because I am unsure how best to respond. Mister Wooster has behaved as a gentleman befitting his station, and these small touches that I've treasured for so long now seem to cause more doubt and anxiety in my employer than the genial bemusement of the days before he knew of my attraction to him. I have stated that becoming more intimate with each other is unwelcome, but habits deeply ingrained over the past year tell him otherwise, if I'm not mistaken.
This is not right, and moreover, it is not fair to him.
With each passing day, he grows quieter, and has even begun the habit of reclining on the sofa, staring at a candelabrum or even a corner of the coffee table, deep in thought. Telling from his frustrated expression, wherever his thoughts have taken him has proved less than pleasant.
Now is the time that a distraction is most needed. Mister Wooster tends to have difficulty focusing on more than the immediate crisis he has been asked to deal with or to help solve, and as such, he would find it difficult to concentrate on his feelings for me whilst attempting to aid one of his friends "out of the soup", as he likes to call it.
I too would be better served by a distraction, if only to remind myself that succumbing to my employer's charms would be disastrous beyond measure.
END
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-03-04 11:39 pm (UTC)Oh, Lordy... I just imagined plastic Bertie figures being sold in bulk...
"Get your Wooster here! Now with new improved Piano-Ability(tm)!"
(I read some of your George/Melchett, by the way. Very good. It's a fandom I happen to like. I mean, it's practically canon.)
no subject
Date: 2006-03-04 11:47 pm (UTC)And yes, it is so damn near canon, it's almost not funny. My sister, who doesn't read slash, is like, "Dude, so canon." about George/Melchett.