Fic: Oceans, part 7 (PG-13)
Pairing: Bertie/Jeeves
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I have no claim on the lovely works of Wodehouse.
Mr. Wooster continued his introverted routine, reading his manuscripts, pausing mostly to eat or bathe. The flat was quiet, and I longed for his long winded banter and the tinkling of the piano keys. It was good for him to become reacquainted with his life through reading, however, it was essential to have the experience as well. It was with this in mind that I made a telephone call to Brinkley Court one fine morning.
“Sir.” I interrupted him. He gazed up from his morning reading. There was a small notebook at his side in which he was writing names and other small details.
“Yes, Jeeves?” His eyes were bright and peaceful.
“I think it would be an excellent idea to see your friends again. I have spoken with Mr. Glossop, who is betrothed to your favorite cousin, Angela. He wishes to dine with you this afternoon.”
Worry replaced the peaceful expression. Mr. Wooster had never been shy. I wondered why he would suddenly shrink from social interaction.
“Very good, Jeeves. Where shall we dine?”
“You shall meet at the Drones club, sir.” I straightened the stack of papers on the side table. “You have many friends who have missed you.”
“Will they be disappointed, I wonder?” He sighed.
“On the contrary, sir. You are well loved among your friends and acquaintances, and they will be overjoyed to see you alive and well.” I handed him a drink, one of my own concoctions which he often claimed revived his strength. He sipped it, somberly.
“Sir.” I began, touching his shoulder, “What is troubling you so?”
“The thought of making so many friends.” He replied. “They all seem to be such lovely chaps in these stories.”
“If I might hazard the suggestion, sir, you are a good man, and a good friend. You are more than equal to the challenge. You must remember, they already consider you their friend.”
“I’m not used to having many friends, you know.” He gazed wistfully at the manuscript in his lap.
“Sir?” I honestly hadn’t thought much of it one way or the other. Mr. Wooster is sweet and generous, and so tends to have amiable companions in all walks of life, in all places. I had assumed that he had charmed all that had surrounded him in the past year, and hadn’t wondered why he hadn’t anyone from this other life concerned about him since he came back to the flat.
“Not many, Jeeves. Sid didn’t like me disappearing at all hours, you know, and that’s when anything interesting happens.” He shrugged, and sipped his drink.
I felt a surge of jealously rip through my chest at the mention of the man. “You let him control your life, sir.” Protecting his investment, no doubt.
Mr. Wooster shrugged. “Not really. He was just looking out for me. I have no sense, you know.”
“You have more than enough sense, sir.” I was furious at whatever had been done to him to make him so vulnerable and hesitant. I felt pained that I had failed to protect my precious charge.
“If I’d had any sense, I wouldn’t have gotten on a sinking ship.” He laughed. “Well, I don’t like to row, and I didn’t want to go to the low places he went to, so I would just stay home quite a bit.”
“You had disagreements, sir?” This relieved me, somewhat.
He nodded. “Mostly about the money, you know. He would get the money, and sometimes he’d take a bit off the top before I saw my share. I’d always think he was an all right sort of Johnny until he’d do something like that, you see. He used to spend it on cheap girls he’d bring back to the flat. I never liked that, either. A man shouldn’t … I mean, they weren’t even married. You just don’t do that to a girl.” He curled his lip in distaste.
“I see.” I said, gently. “I assure you, sir, that your true friends are gentlemen in every respect of the word. You will enjoy the club.” With this encouragement, he smiled, and rose to allow me to dress him.
An hour later, I walked him to the Drones club. He gave me a sidelong look. “I wish you could come with me.” He grinned wistfully.
“It is not my place, sir.” I said, gently. “I will return for you soon enough.” I was so proud, then, to know that it was me that he trusted. Still, he must get by on his own in society once more.
Mr. Glossop was in the doorway of the Drones club, conversing with Mr. Forthingay-Phipps. “Why, Bertie!” the later exclaimed, “How was America?"
I winced. Mr. Glossop took Mr. Wooster’s arm. “Why, Hello, Bertie. Jolly good to see you. They’ve done the most succulent beef roast today, come on, then.”
I met his eyes, and they reassured me. Silently, I thanked him, and as Mr. Wooster disappeared into the building, I left to dine at the Junior Ganymede. Some time later, I walked back to the Drones Club. I waited, apprehensively, for Mr. Wooster.
He soon stumbled out to meet me, a wide smile on his face, and an intoxicated blush on his cheeks. He grasped my arm to steady himself. “You were right, Jeeves.” He grinned. “These are really the right sort of chaps.”
“I am delighted to hear that you agree, sir.” With each minor success, more and more of Mr. Wooster’s true self revealed itself to me. I held out a hand to steady him, and he leaned on my arm. “Shall I hail a cab, sir?” I asked, after a moment.
“No, no, Jeeves, I can walk.” He straightened his tie and jacket, and began to amble away.
“Sir...” I hastened after him. “Our home is in the other direction, sir.” I said, in a hushed tone.
“I know.” He said, brightly. “We’re not going home. Not yet.” Bewildered, I followed him.
“I wanted to take you out someplace, to thank you.” He explained. “You’ve been… more than feudal to me, Jeeves. Since I can remember, never mind all you did before that. The chaps at the Drones are fond of you, you know. They told me all sorts of things about you. From what I understand, I’m lucky.”
“That is very kind of them to say, sir.” I wondered just what they had said, but I wasn’t about to pry. The praise he gave me warmed me, and made it difficult to think of much else.
Mr. Wooster was leading us across town, towards the neighborhood he used to inhabit. I stuck closely to his side, feeling suddenly wary in our surroundings. Mr. Wooster led me to a pub, which was much cleaner and friendlier than the outside had led me to believe.
“I understand that you’re not allowed to bring servants to the Ritz.” He chuckled, and sat across from me. “This place will do for now, won’t it?” He seemed oddly concerned about my opinion of this place, a place, it turned out, that he felt rather fondly about during his life as John. Hope sprung forth in my chest. Was Mr. Wooster attempting to court me? It would seem so, but I decided that it was best to not get my hopes up.
“It is a fine choice, sir.” I declared. He smiled at me. Where we were didn’t matter, after all. I was with him.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I have no claim on the lovely works of Wodehouse.
Mr. Wooster continued his introverted routine, reading his manuscripts, pausing mostly to eat or bathe. The flat was quiet, and I longed for his long winded banter and the tinkling of the piano keys. It was good for him to become reacquainted with his life through reading, however, it was essential to have the experience as well. It was with this in mind that I made a telephone call to Brinkley Court one fine morning.
“Sir.” I interrupted him. He gazed up from his morning reading. There was a small notebook at his side in which he was writing names and other small details.
“Yes, Jeeves?” His eyes were bright and peaceful.
“I think it would be an excellent idea to see your friends again. I have spoken with Mr. Glossop, who is betrothed to your favorite cousin, Angela. He wishes to dine with you this afternoon.”
Worry replaced the peaceful expression. Mr. Wooster had never been shy. I wondered why he would suddenly shrink from social interaction.
“Very good, Jeeves. Where shall we dine?”
“You shall meet at the Drones club, sir.” I straightened the stack of papers on the side table. “You have many friends who have missed you.”
“Will they be disappointed, I wonder?” He sighed.
“On the contrary, sir. You are well loved among your friends and acquaintances, and they will be overjoyed to see you alive and well.” I handed him a drink, one of my own concoctions which he often claimed revived his strength. He sipped it, somberly.
“Sir.” I began, touching his shoulder, “What is troubling you so?”
“The thought of making so many friends.” He replied. “They all seem to be such lovely chaps in these stories.”
“If I might hazard the suggestion, sir, you are a good man, and a good friend. You are more than equal to the challenge. You must remember, they already consider you their friend.”
“I’m not used to having many friends, you know.” He gazed wistfully at the manuscript in his lap.
“Sir?” I honestly hadn’t thought much of it one way or the other. Mr. Wooster is sweet and generous, and so tends to have amiable companions in all walks of life, in all places. I had assumed that he had charmed all that had surrounded him in the past year, and hadn’t wondered why he hadn’t anyone from this other life concerned about him since he came back to the flat.
“Not many, Jeeves. Sid didn’t like me disappearing at all hours, you know, and that’s when anything interesting happens.” He shrugged, and sipped his drink.
I felt a surge of jealously rip through my chest at the mention of the man. “You let him control your life, sir.” Protecting his investment, no doubt.
Mr. Wooster shrugged. “Not really. He was just looking out for me. I have no sense, you know.”
“You have more than enough sense, sir.” I was furious at whatever had been done to him to make him so vulnerable and hesitant. I felt pained that I had failed to protect my precious charge.
“If I’d had any sense, I wouldn’t have gotten on a sinking ship.” He laughed. “Well, I don’t like to row, and I didn’t want to go to the low places he went to, so I would just stay home quite a bit.”
“You had disagreements, sir?” This relieved me, somewhat.
He nodded. “Mostly about the money, you know. He would get the money, and sometimes he’d take a bit off the top before I saw my share. I’d always think he was an all right sort of Johnny until he’d do something like that, you see. He used to spend it on cheap girls he’d bring back to the flat. I never liked that, either. A man shouldn’t … I mean, they weren’t even married. You just don’t do that to a girl.” He curled his lip in distaste.
“I see.” I said, gently. “I assure you, sir, that your true friends are gentlemen in every respect of the word. You will enjoy the club.” With this encouragement, he smiled, and rose to allow me to dress him.
An hour later, I walked him to the Drones club. He gave me a sidelong look. “I wish you could come with me.” He grinned wistfully.
“It is not my place, sir.” I said, gently. “I will return for you soon enough.” I was so proud, then, to know that it was me that he trusted. Still, he must get by on his own in society once more.
Mr. Glossop was in the doorway of the Drones club, conversing with Mr. Forthingay-Phipps. “Why, Bertie!” the later exclaimed, “How was America?"
I winced. Mr. Glossop took Mr. Wooster’s arm. “Why, Hello, Bertie. Jolly good to see you. They’ve done the most succulent beef roast today, come on, then.”
I met his eyes, and they reassured me. Silently, I thanked him, and as Mr. Wooster disappeared into the building, I left to dine at the Junior Ganymede. Some time later, I walked back to the Drones Club. I waited, apprehensively, for Mr. Wooster.
He soon stumbled out to meet me, a wide smile on his face, and an intoxicated blush on his cheeks. He grasped my arm to steady himself. “You were right, Jeeves.” He grinned. “These are really the right sort of chaps.”
“I am delighted to hear that you agree, sir.” With each minor success, more and more of Mr. Wooster’s true self revealed itself to me. I held out a hand to steady him, and he leaned on my arm. “Shall I hail a cab, sir?” I asked, after a moment.
“No, no, Jeeves, I can walk.” He straightened his tie and jacket, and began to amble away.
“Sir...” I hastened after him. “Our home is in the other direction, sir.” I said, in a hushed tone.
“I know.” He said, brightly. “We’re not going home. Not yet.” Bewildered, I followed him.
“I wanted to take you out someplace, to thank you.” He explained. “You’ve been… more than feudal to me, Jeeves. Since I can remember, never mind all you did before that. The chaps at the Drones are fond of you, you know. They told me all sorts of things about you. From what I understand, I’m lucky.”
“That is very kind of them to say, sir.” I wondered just what they had said, but I wasn’t about to pry. The praise he gave me warmed me, and made it difficult to think of much else.
Mr. Wooster was leading us across town, towards the neighborhood he used to inhabit. I stuck closely to his side, feeling suddenly wary in our surroundings. Mr. Wooster led me to a pub, which was much cleaner and friendlier than the outside had led me to believe.
“I understand that you’re not allowed to bring servants to the Ritz.” He chuckled, and sat across from me. “This place will do for now, won’t it?” He seemed oddly concerned about my opinion of this place, a place, it turned out, that he felt rather fondly about during his life as John. Hope sprung forth in my chest. Was Mr. Wooster attempting to court me? It would seem so, but I decided that it was best to not get my hopes up.
“It is a fine choice, sir.” I declared. He smiled at me. Where we were didn’t matter, after all. I was with him.