triedunture | Jooster fic: Jeeves in the Kitchen

To celebrate this:

40085 / 50000 words. 80% done!

Title: Jeeves in the Kitchen
Pairing: Jeeves/Wooster
Rating: R
Warnings: 1st person Bertie POV, slight embarrassment factor, slight kink?
Summary: Bertie gets all worked up about Getting Caught. Jeeves has a plan. The kitchen's role is one of numerous flat surfaces.
Thanks: to

hwshipper who I believe betaed this about twelve thousand years ago. And to

newbaskerville who I can't track down, but who had the idea in the first place.

newbaskerville, if you're out there, I'm sorry I'm posting this without your wonderful art that inspired it, but I don't want to do that without your permission! I hope you appear with it soon so everyone can marvel at how beautiful it is.

<><><><><>

'Telegram for you, sir,' Jeeves said, gliding alongside my armchair like a lifeboat pulling up to a steamer in the dead of night. He held out the missive on a salver while I eyed it with suspicion.

'Good Lord, a message before noon? That sort of thing never bodes well. Telegrams saying "What ho, you're invited to a spiffing party tomorrow" and so forth have the sense to arrive after lunch,' I said, taking the thing carefully between thumb and forefinger. I laid my newest thriller across my knee to crack the envelope open. My eyes scanned the page with growing dread. 'Not well-boded at all. Aunt Agatha wishes to grace us with her presence today, Jeeves.'

'Shall I prepare a measure of the lemon squash which Mrs Spenser Gregson favours, sir?'

I tossed the telegram back on its tray and lit a dejected cigarette. 'I suppose so. We should ready ourselves however good men can when the hounds of Hades are baying at the door.'

'Very true, sir,' Jeeves said, and bent to place a delicate kiss on the Wooster cheek.

Some of the more sharp-eyed and clear-headed readers may have noticed something at this juncture. That is to say, if you've been following these memoirs of mine with any faithful regularity, you may have run the old eyeballs over that last bit a few times over to absorb all the possible meanings. 'Surely Wooster intends,' these readers might mutter to themselves, 'something other than a "kiss." I know my valets, and placing kisses on the cheeks of young masters is not the done thing in the profession. This blighter's pen must have slipped, and he will aim to correct it in the following sentences.'

I disabuse you of that notion now. Perhaps you can't credit it, but placing delicate kisses about the Wooster frame had recently become one of Jeeves' duties, in a manner of speaking. What I mean to say is, an agreement of sorts had been reached between us. Two gentlemen with no other attachments and a certain natural aversion to the dissolution of bachelorhood sometimes do this. Wipe your brow and revive yourself with salts if you must, but it's true and it's the way this Wooster is. I'm no scientist, so I cannot offer you any more data on the subject; you will have to trust me and continue slogging through the tale.

So! A kiss on the cheek, not at all out of the ordinary now that Jeeves and I had come to this agreement. He was apt to shower bits of affection on the young master when dark clouds gathered and I lost my sunny disposish. And he must have seen the storm front gathering on my brow at the thought of Aunt Agatha calling, so the kiss was nothing more than a kindly gesture of support. But I am shamed to say this Wooster balked. Practically leapt from my seat at the touch of lips on skin.

'Jeeves!' I yelped. 'Have you gone absolutely potty?'

Jeeves instantly returned to his posture of glacial uprightness. 'Sir?' he said, with diminishing warmth.

'Aunt Agatha could be marching through that door at any moment!' I pointed a shaking finger to said portal. 'And yet here you are, planting smackers on me as if everything is boomps-a-daisy.'

Jeeves flicked open the telegram envelope with a raised eyebrow. That is to say, his eyebrow didn't do the flicking; it merely accompanied his curt hands. 'According to her message, Mrs Gregson will not arrive until half-past one, sir.'

'Yes, but still.' I tapped off some fretful ash into the ash-tray at my elbow. 'Aunt Agatha has been known to sweep into flats earlier than announced. It's a tight schedule of hers, all this human sacrifice at full moons and such. One can't be too careful.'

I turned back to my book, still shaking at the idea of Aunt Agatha catching Bertram and Jeeves in a very delicto kind of flagrante. Not only did the notion sour me on flagrante (who wants to picture any elder female present at such a time?), but it made me quake in my boots with fear. If such a thing were to happen, there is no doubt in my mind that Aunt Agatha would have Jeeves shipped off to some sort of loony bin. She's never liked the man; he's much too brainy for her taste. In her day, servants weren't allowed any brains at all, and the presence of such a great one in a morning coat and pinstriped trousers makes her shy like a colt.

I sucked on my cigarette, not really registering the page in front of my eyes as I mulled this over. Jeeves gave a light cough. I looked up to find him still at my side.

'Something the matter, Jeeves?'

'I appreciate your desire for security, sir, but may I point out that the front door is locked? That Mrs Gregson will have to ring the bell to gain entrance? That she is not expected here for another two hours, sir?'

'You may point out all three things, Jeeves.'

'Very good, sir.' He placed the silver salver on the side table. 'Then if you will allow me--' He bent low once more, his lips hovering inches from my own.

I sprang from my armchair like a jack-in-the-box. 'No, I bally well won't allow you, Jeeves! It's too risky to go about kissing and, and engaging in the more tender emotions when doom hovers so near.' I used a stabbing finger in the air to mark all my highlights.

'Sir.' Jeeves took a step towards me. 'If I may be so bold as to ask: if we cannot engage in such activities in the home, where can we?' He blinked once, sadly. Not many people can pull off the sad blink, but Jeeves is a special case. 'Do you wish to discontinue our arrangement, sir?'

'Heavens, no.' I dared clasp his hands in mine. 'But perhaps we should limit said activities to the boudoir, Jeeves. That would be the safe thing, would it not?'

Jeeves' hands hung limply in my own. 'You propose that, even when we are alone, sir, I should remain firmly in the capacity of a valet? Nothing more?'

'That's exactly it!' I cried. Jeeves stared at me with rebuke. I meekly let my grin fall away. 'You don't like the idea, Jeeves?'

'I do not, sir,' he said quietly. 'When we agreed to love each other as we do, I was not under the impression that those feelings would bloom only with the moon and dissipate with the rising sun. I love you all day long, sir, with every piece of myself. And I wish to show it whenever possible.'

Well, I mean, what's a chap supposed to say to that? I chanced an embrace, pulling Jeeves into the ring of my arms and holding him there, his chin nestled against the crown of my head. 'I also wish for that, old thing,' I said before slowly stepping away. 'But I'm sorry. The price is too high to contemplate.' My arms fell away and we were no longer touching.

'If a situation ever arises which threatens to upset our lives, sir, I am certain I can see us through safely. I must remind you that I have done so on countless occasions in the past,' Jeeves said, stepping forward.

I retreated a pace. 'Yes, I have no doubts as to your abilities to lift Bertram out of the soup. But Jeeves, when a cove sees another cove kissing another cove, well, there just isn't any way out of that tureen, is there?'

Jeeves folded his hands behind his back. 'Sir, perhaps you are overestimating your friends' and relatives' senses of perception.'

'What are you getting at, Jeeves?'

'I merely mention, sir, that your circle of peers is largely concerned with their own private tribulations. Often an acquaintance will come to you with a personal problem that has absorbed that person's entire attention. I find it very unlikely that anyone, even Mrs Gregson, will be actively looking for chinks in our armour, if I may use the phrase.'

I still didn't see his point. 'I still don't see your point, Jeeves.'

The man opened his mouth, perhaps to explain further, when the bell buzzed and Aunt Agatha's voice roiled through the front door. 'Is that dratted nephew of mine awake, Jeeves? Get him out of bed if he hasn't roused yet!'

'You see?' I whispered. 'It would have been an unpleasant experience indeed if I had to scramble for my waistcoat and trousers just now.'

Jeeves stood, frowning. The bell rang again.

'Bertram!' Aunt Agatha bellowed.

'I shall answer the door, sir,' Jeeves said coolly and shimmered out to the hall.

<><><>

It turned out that Aunt Agatha wanted nothing more than to saddle yours truly with the care of her terrier, McIntosh, while she was away in Provence for the week. The little fluffy fellow was ensconced in the flat and, with a stern warning not to feed him roast beef, the terrible aunt flew off to see to other necessary tasks before leaving on her trip. It was one of the better battles with Aunt Agatha I had survived; I quite liked McIntosh, as he was a cheerful pup, always ready to lend a hand with the chorus of a song or two. I scratched his ears as was my policy with happy terriers and said to Jeeves, 'Well, that was bearable enough, wasn't it?'

Jeeves pretended not to hear me and instead began dusting the mantel. Where his feather-duster had materialised from, I have no bally idea.

'Jeeves?' I said louder. 'Don't you agree? That might have been much worse, what?'

The man pivoted on his heel without a glance towards the Wooster person. 'If you will excuse me, sir, I have duties to which I must attend.'

'I say!' I I-sayed, but Jeeves had already disappeared through the swinging kitchen door. So it was to be the cold shoulder, then? Right! I scratched McIntosh's ear with more vim, ignoring his whine. We'd see who melted first, was my feeling.

But come nightfall, with naught but mere monosyllables passed between self and Jeeves, I was beginning to change my tune. I sat in bed, tucked in snugly and pyjama-ed nicely, while Jeeves floated about the bedroom, turning off lamps and folding clothes. Since our agreement had been reached some weeks before, Jeeves had spent every night in my bed. He usually changed into his own pyjamas before joining me under the eiderdown duvet. But this night, Jeeves stood in the doorway and said, as smoothly as you please, 'If there is nothing else, sir, I will wish you a good night.'

'Jeeves?' I choked out as he reached for the final light switch. 'Are you really going to sleep in your old room?'

Jeeves cocked his head as if confused. 'Where else would a valet sleep, sir?' And the room was plunged into darkness.

Properly chastised, I sunk down into the pillows. 'At least you're here, McIntosh,' I said into the black void. The little dog gave a bark from his place on the carpet, but it didn't lighten my heart as I hoped it might. I wrapped my frame into a tight ball and slept fitfully.

<><><>

'Telegram for you, sir,' was how I was woken the next morning. Jeeves was undoubtedly still pipped from the events of the day before; as a rule, even during the times when our relations were strained over a white mess jacket or a pink necktie, he never bothered me with telegrams before breakfast.

I managed a pitiful moan into my pillow and wondered how he could hate me so. I had barely managed one of the forty required winks the night before, so distressed was I with this problem of Jeeves. I only wanted to keep him safe from aunts that snack on broken glass and brain specialists that enjoy peering through their pince-nez. But if doing so also kept him away from me, then, well, dash it, that wasn't acceptable either. I was as stuck as a winged thing on flypaper, and my eight hours had suffered as a result.

Jeeves, on the other hand, didn't appear to be suffering from lack of sleep. 'Shall I read the message to you, sir?' he said with false sweetness.

I grunted a reply which may have been affirmative or may have been translated as 'Go boil your head, you Judas.' McIntosh yipped from the rug in accord.

'Very good, sir.' The sound of the envelope crackling open echoed through the room. Jeeves cleared his throat and read: 'Bertie, stop. Tuppy and Gussie here, stop. Require you to give us lunch today, stop. Most important, stop. Frightfully, stop. Most frightfully important, stop. Yes I added the frightfully, Gussie, stop. Has the clerk gotten it down, stop. Of course she has, stop. Then tell Bertie we will be there at one and that will be the end of it, stop. Yes quite, stop. Tuppy you ass you must stop, stop. Right-ho, stop.' Jeeves' cough indicated a finish to the bizarre missive.

A manly groan emanated from my throat, and I refused to budge. Speaking into the piles of bed linens, I moaned, 'You'll have to fend them off, Jeeves. I'm in no shape to be giving lunch to anybody today.'

'That is most distressing to hear, sir,' said Jeeves, 'for I just sent a telegram in reply indicating that you would be delighted to give the gentlemen lunch at the appointed hour. Was I remiss in doing so, sir?' He said this blithely, as if he honestly didn't understand the circumstances of this entire lunch business.

I picked my head up from the rumpled sheets and gazed blearily up at my man. My hair alone must have looked a fright, but what I had to say needed to be said. 'I have the feeling, Jeeves, that you wish to punish me for what was said last night.'

His brows drew together in an exaggerated manner. 'Oh, no, sir.'

I turned myself out of the twisted bedding and swung my legs over the edge of the mattress, letting McIntosh sniff his wet nose against my ankle. With my hands in my lap, I looked up at Jeeves. 'Then why would you allow those two blighters the run of the homestead when you're perfectly aware that today we should be hashing out this unpleasant business? I hate to have poor feelings between us, Jeeves. Will you not even let me try to put things right?'

The ice in Jeeves' eyes melted slightly. 'On the contrary, sir,' he said softly, 'I believe a visit from Mr Glossop and Mr Fink-Nottle will afford an opportunity for repairing the ill will that has built around us.'

'But Jeeves,' I said, scratching the mussed melon, 'how the devil can I speak to you about matters of the heart with Tuppy and Gussie loafing about the flat, doing their bit as professional hangers-on?'

'The merits will become obvious soon, sir. Shall I run your bath?' He held my dressing gown open for me and I slid into it.

'I suppose so. If I'm awake at this ungodly hour of...' I swung my gaze round the room, looking for an alarm clock or something.

'Nine-thirty, sir.'

'...nine-thirty, then I will have to make the best of it.'

<><><>

It was actually rather good that Jeeves had woken me so early; I needed all the time available to make the Wooster person appear fit for company. It took a good long soak and a careful shave to even get me in the running for human. And on top of it, the knots in my ties were all coming up less-than-rosy, the wave in my hair was veering dangerously off-course, and the spring in my step had come unsprung. I had only just pushed myself into a pair of shoes when the door bell rang; thirty minutes early, wouldn't you know it.

I greeted Tuppy and Gussie as heartily as I could and shook them up a few cocktails (just juice for Gussie) while we waited for the soup to be brought out. If my demeanour was downcast, then the two interlopers didn't say anything. They appeared too agitated on their own behalves.

'The thing is, Bertie,' Tuppy began, accepting a martini from me, 'Gussie and I ran into a bit of trouble up at your Aunt Dahila's place.'

'It's a sticky business, to be sure,' Gussie lisped as he sipped his orange juice. 'If you can't put things right, then both our engagements will be at an end.'

'Ah. Well.' I cocked an ear towards the kitchen, but no valet-coughing appeared forthcoming. I understood I would have to field this enquiry alone. 'Nothing would be more terrible than to see you rent asunder from Madeline, Gussie. And you from Angela, Tuppy. What are the circs?'

'Well, I was visiting with Angela, you know, preparing for the wedding,' Tuppy started in.

'And Madeline had wanted to visit Angela to get some ideas for our own wedding, so of course I came too,' Gussie said.

I nodded. 'And this sudden slew of visits to my good aunt has nothing to do with her new cook, Anatole?'

A dreamy look came over both their faces.

'That veal,' murmured Tuppy. 'That bisque.'

'Those roasted fennel seeds,' Gussie added.

'Eh?' I asked. 'Since when do you eat fennel seeds, Gussie?'

'Not for me. For my newts. I have a new breed that are very finicky eaters,' the bounder explained patiently. 'Anatole's roasted fennel seeds seem to be the only food they'll eat in captivity.'

'Blast your newts!' Tuppy said with feeling. 'To feed such fare to mere worms is a sin. That cook is a genius, Bertie. I have tasted nothing better on my lips than his cooking.'

'Excepting my dear cousin's kisses?' I asked sharply.

Tuppy had the decency to look sheepish for a moment. 'Oh, yes. Quite.' Then he perked up again. 'And his steak and kidney pie! Divine. Just heavenly.'

'And how did this manifest into your current trouble?'

'It's like this,' Gussie broke in, wresting control of the conversation from Tuppy. 'We were supposed to meet Madeline and Angela in the garden at five yesterday afternoon to discuss guest lists. They needed information on which family members to invite and so forth.'

'But the larder,' Tuppy said darkly, 'it called to us.'

Gussie wiped at his spectacles with his handkerchief and nodded. 'Yes, I had to go steal away some food for my newts.'

'And I required an encore of the previous night's dinner,' Tuppy added.

'Well, nothing wrong with that, is there?' I queried. 'A quick mid-afternoon bite does no harm, does it?'

'Not at all. Except we got a bit carried away and the girls found us hidden in the larder, having missed the appointment entirely,' Gussie lisped with a dejected air.

'You've never seen so much foot-stomping and fist-waving, Bertie.' Tuppy shivered. 'One girl would just start to wind down and the other would pick up where she left off. They fed off each other's madness; before we knew it, Gussie and I were being strong-armed out the door by Seppings.'

'What! They handed both of you the mitten?'

'Yes. Said if we couldn't manage a simple task like meeting them at an appointed hour instead of carrying on with newts and foodstuffs, we wouldn't make very fine husbands. Oh, Bertie,' Gussie pleaded, 'you have to convince them otherwise.'

'Any ideas, old fruit?' Tuppy leant forward with eager eyes.

I didn't, in fact, have any ideas. But my bacon was saved when Jeeves appeared before us and announced that luncheon was ready. Tuppy was off like a shot. Gussie and I followed at a more sedate pace to the table.

While Jeeves dished up the consomme, my two guests continued blithering on. I listened with half an ear, too burdened with my own romantic problems to bend my full attention to them.

'This is dashed fine soup,' Tuppy said, slurping away, 'but really, nothing can touch this Anatole. Why, I'm tempted to marry Angela just for the privilege of dropping in at Brinkley whenever the opportunity affords itself.'

'Yes, Brinkley is a wonderful house,' Gussie gushed. 'My newts were thriving there so well, you know. Something in the air, I suspect.'

As both men wallowed in their fond memories, I glumly watched Jeeves serve up my portion of soup. 'Thank you, Jeeves,' I said automatically.

'My pleasure, sir,' he said, low enough for only my ears. It wasn't difficult, as the soup-sloshing required him to lean over the Wooster shoulder. But then the man actually turned his head and gave me a kiss on the lips! Right there in front of two guests, smack-dab in the middle of the first course!

I pulled away as quickly as possible after getting past the initial shock, my mouth hanging open, eyes wide. Was Jeeves trying to secure a private room at Bethlem Royal? Did he really think Tuppy and Gussie weren't capable of ringing up the local constable and saying, 'What-ho, have a couple of inverts for you. They take size 9 hand-cuffs.' After all, Tuppy had a cruel streak which had shown itself when he allowed me to drop in the Drones swimming pool in full evening dress. And Gussie was apt to sputter indignantly at me whenever Madeline took it into her head that I was in love with her. No, I can't say for sure if the two coves would prove stalwart friends or not in the face of this lunch-time valet-kissing.

I turned to look at my table-mates, ready to face the consequences.

'And the desserts, Gussie! What do you think was in that mousse?'

'Rich foods, no doubt. Madeline wouldn't let me touch it, but I managed a bite or two while we were hidden in the larder.'

I blinked. They were still talking about the bally French cook!?

I remained frozen as their conversation washed over me. Jeeves shimmered off, reappearing to refill our wine glasses (juice glass for Gussie). And still my two guests babbled on. It dawned on me that they had seen nothing of the kiss, so wrapped up were they in recounting Anatole's dishes to each other.

'Shall I serve the cutlet now, sir?' Jeeves again breathed in my ear. I stiffened as he bent closer to place a nibble on the innocent lobe.

'Please,' I squeaked. The unmanly noise went unnoticed by Tuppy and Gussie, who had reached the seared prawn portion of their conversation.

'Very good, sir.' And he biffed off through the kitchen again.

The entire meal was one long stretch of such trials for Bertram. Jeeves would somehow manage to caress my cheek or squeeze my thigh right under my guests' noses, and my heart would stop in fear. But that fear was unfounded, as neither Gussie nor Tuppy cared to glance our way during these manoeuvres. Jeeves seemed to take great pleasure in my plight; his eyebrow quirked at that angle which indicated sheer delight.

Soon I could breathe easy, though. Jeeves served the coffee and lunch was concluded. Tuppy and Gussie had still not moved to other topics, and their debate as to what had made up the base of a salad dressing raged on. I excused myself from the table. No one seemed to notice.

<><><>

I found Jeeves in the kitchen bent over the sink, washing the pots and pans. He was up to his elbows in soapy water, his sleeves rolled up to reveal a hint of capable muscle. I lounged against the butcher-block counter-top and crossed my arms over my chest.

'Jeeves,' I said, 'that was a very mean-spirited thing you did just then.'

'Sir?' he said, looking over his shoulder at me with his most innocent expression.

'I thought I'd die out there, trying not to squawk in front of Tuppy and Gussie. Whatever possessed you to play a game of chicken like that?' I demanded.

'I was merely endeavouring to prove my earlier point, sir.' Jeeves turned back to scrubbing a plate. 'There is more lee-way in our situation than is readily apparent. I believe we can expect a reasonable amount of safety, provided we identify the real dangers, sir. And your fellow club members, if you'll pardon me saying so, are no danger.'

'Yes, I see that, Jeeves.' I gave a heavy sigh and approached slowly. 'But you didn't have to drive me mad trying to illustrate it.'

'Desperate measures, sir. I do apologise for any discomfort I put you through.' He rinsed the plate and began the process of drying. 'Perhaps now you will be able to trust me to keep our secret safe, at least in the comfort of the home.'

I could stand it no longer. I was fine with hot and cold running tap water, but not hot and cold running valets. I reached for my man, slinging one arm round his waist and the other over his shoulder. He ceased his plate-rubbing, but didn't otherwise acknowledge my touch. I pressed my lips to his neck and murmured, 'Of course I trust you, Jeeves. There was never a question in my mind about that. It's me that I find lacking; what if I slip up in front of the wrong person, Jeeves, and they take you away from me? The thought of you locked up in Colney Hatch, all alone...it frightens me.' I tightened my hold on him and pressed my forehead to his shoulder blade.

Jeeves allowed the plate to slip back into the sink water and clasped my hands in his soapy ones. 'That will never happen, sir,' he said quietly. 'I won't allow it. Nothing will ever force me from your side.'

'Can you really promise that?' I asked his shirt-covered shoulder. 'Even you can't control the weather, Jeeves.'

He shook his head. 'No, but I have power over this: I love you, and I refuse to hide that love in our own home out of fear. We must be strong, sir, and vigilant. I need to know you can do this, too.' He raised my hand to his lips and kissed it. 'Please say you will, sir.'

I squeezed Jeeves tight, and he gave my hands the same treatment. 'You're right, Jeeves. As always. Yes, I will keep to your policy.'

'Very good,' Jeeves murmured and released my hands. 'Perhaps you should return to Mr Glossop and Mr Fink-Nottle, sir. They'll be finished with their coffees soon, I imagine.'

'They probably haven't even touched them yet,' I snorted. 'They're too busy discussing Aunt Dahlia's new cook. You'd think they'd be more enthralled with the problem of winning back the hearts and minds of la Bassett and cousin Angela. They parted brass rags with said females yesterday over a mid-day larder raid.'

'Indeed, sir?' Jeeves turned round and propped his hands up on the edge of the sink to support his weight. 'Do you imagine their distraction will last?'

I pursed the lips in thought. 'It's likely. It did all through lunch, at least.'

Jeeves raised a brow in my direction. His gaze drifted down the Wooster map to where my lips were pursed. I loosed them with a gape. 'Oh, I say,' I hissed, 'you're not proposing we give it the old college try here? In the kitchen? With guests on the other side of the door?'

'You would look very charming, sir, in the light reflecting off the copper pots.' Jeeves tucked his chin to his chest and did that thingummy with his eyelashes that so transfixes me.

'Be that as it may!' I whispered in a frantic undertone. 'Copper pots or no, I don't wish to throw myself headlong into danger so readily. Can't you wait twenty minutes?'

Jeeves reached out and tugged my tie free of my neck in one swift, sure motion. 'Why delay the inevitable, sir?' he murmured, and slipped the necktie round my waist, using it to haul me closer like a shepherd might use his crook. 'I'm certain that you will be able to keep your voice down, so as not to disturb our guests.'

'Keep my--? Jeeves, I'm absolutely aghast. This, this is just not cricket!' I cried.

Jeeves shushed me with a lingering kiss. 'Perhaps not, sir,' he murmured against my neck a moment later, 'but it is a game I believe you will find much pleasure in.'

What happened next is a bit of a blurred picture. I was twirled round, lifted up onto the counter-top, and quickly divested of suit coat, waistcoat, and footwear. In a flash, Jeeves had me sprawled on the preparation surface, my shirt unbuttoned and hanging loosely off my arms and my trousers pulled down to my knocking knees.

'Jeeves,' I whispered with frenetic fervour, 'I won't bally well be able to remain quiet. I'm bound to blow my top in a tick of the second hand, and then where will we be?'

'In a world of dream-like ecstasy, I imagine, sir,' Jeeves said while pulling my socks and garters free from my toes.

'I beg of you, Jeeves, please don't--' I shuddered as he ran a palm up my thigh to the apex of my discomfort. 'Nnngh!'

'A different pitch, sir, if you would,' he admonished, grasping a part of me that wasn't helping matters.

I bit my lip and whined through my teeth. My heart was pounding wildly; I was making more noise than the orchestra pit during a change of scenery. Tuppy and Gussie were sure to hear. I tried to say as much to Jeeves, but it came out as a bit of a gasp. He was doing this thing with his thumb, you see.

I endeavoured to level a sharp look at my man. Putting me in my place re our disagreement over displays of affection was all well and good, but this was beyond the pale. Peeling the husk from the young master and laying him on the butcher-block for all luncheon guests to see should they pop in through the swinging door was, well, not the usual modus operandi of my faithful manservant. I gazed at him sternly. He lifted a challenging eyebrow. His hands grasped at my wrists, keeping me from fending off any more romantic attacks.

'I think you'll find it fulfilling, sir,' he said quietly, 'to be as loud as you like in the key of D major.'

'D major?' I squinted at him in confusion. 'What does D major have to do with--?'

And suddenly, my conversation partner disappeared from view, nestling in the space between my spread legs. Well, I don't think much description is necessary here, suffice to say I hit the proper note spot on. It was terribly loud, too, and would have been heard clear to Covent Garden. Except an even louder howl came from the corner of the kitchen, matching mine and overtaking it. I craned my neck to see McIntosh leashed to the kitchen table's leg.

Now, normally one doesn't like any third party reviewing one's amorous activities from a ringside seat, even furry little third parties with lolling tongues. But I soon saw the wisdom in having McIntosh on the sidelines. His need to provide musical accompaniment meant that my shouts were effectively drowned out. Dashed useful, really.

'Jeeves,' I panted, louder than I would have dared before. 'Oh, Jeeves, you beautiful creature.' McIntosh barked in unison.

Jeeves looked up from his task long enough to murmur against my thigh, 'I do believe your guests wouldn't notice if I took you into the sitting room and had you on the top of the piano, sir.'

I groaned in agreement. McIntosh covered me admirably.

'It wouldn't be difficult. I could pick you up and carry you through, sir, in the blink of an eye.' His hands continued the work his mouth had left off.

'Oh, Lord,' I cried while McIntosh yipped a canine equivalent.

'I daresay you'd relish an audience. Something about your performing spirit, sir.' And before I could glare half-heartedly at him, Jeeves dove back into my lap to take me in his mouth. I couldn't last much longer, what with all this excitement and dangerous talk. I said as much via some extensive hair-pulling on Jeeves' dark locks. The Wooster spine curled into a tight C shape, and I let loose a long sigh as my release finally left me. I whimpered as I fell back to earth, or perhaps it was the terrier. It was difficult to keep us straight, what with all the animal noises being thrown about.

I stared up at the pressed tin ceiling and tried to recall why I had been so frightfully worried.

'My word,' I let slip from my slack lips. 'That was awfully wonderful, Jeeves.'

'Indeed, sir.' He bent over me to gift me with a kiss. I won't describe in detail why this kiss was particularly naughty, though I hint at a certain exotic flavour that I found intoxicating. I savoured it for a long moment, my lips pressed over Jeeves', before we were interrupted.

'I say, Bertie?' Tuppy called from the sitting room. 'Where did you get to, old fruit?'

As fast as a jackrabbit, Jeeves had me shoved back into the raiment, buttons done and tie straightened. With his helping hand, I hopped down from the counter-top, glad for his supporting arm. My legs felt like jelly.

I managed to recover my comportment by the time I floated through the kitchen door. 'What's that, Tuppy?' I asked, my voice cracking from overuse.

'We just remembered,' Gussie lisped mournfully. 'We still don't know how to get Madeline and Angela's forgiveness. Has anything occurred to you yet, Bertie?'

Jeeves coughed lightly into his fist, standing behind me. 'If I may, gentlemen,' he said, 'you might be able to convince the young ladies that you had met in secret conference in the larder to discuss wedding gifts.'

'But we didn't,' they said with frowns.

'Yes, however, if the ladies were to think that you both had bought identical honeymoon gifts and needed to determine who would return the undoubtedly expensive item to avoid embarrassment, I'm sure Miss Basset and Miss Travers will understand why you had kept the information to yourselves up to this point.' At the two blank stares, Jeeves elaborated: 'You wished to keep it a surprise, of course.'

'Why, that's marvellous!' Tuppy yelped.

'We're saved!' Gussie slung a friendly arm round Tuppy's shoulder and they danced a sort of jig.

'Ah, yes, but you'll have to actually buy some expensive honeymoon present when the time comes, you know,' I pointed out.

Their faces fell.

Jeeves nodded. 'To continue the ruse, yes. That would be necessary.'

'Oh. I see.' Tuppy shoved Gussie's arm off.

'I suppose I should look into a loan, what?' Gussie said faintly.

'Well!' I clapped my hands in ill-concealed delight. 'Wonderful to see you chaps, as usual. Give my best to Angela and Madeline,' I said, corralling them to the front door. Jeeves was already there, waiting with their hats and sticks at the ready. They took them dully.

'See you at the Drones,' I said, practically booting them out into the hallway. Once the door was shut firmly, I spun round and leaned my back against it, grinning like an imp at Jeeves.

'You seem pleased, sir,' Jeeves said, picking up the remains of lunch from the table.

'I am, Jeeves.' I pushed off and stalked towards him. 'It's the middle of the day, we have no callers slated for the next few hours, and I have your undivided attention.'

'Really, sir?' He feigned interest while he cleared the table. 'Did you require my services?'

'No, just a music lesson, Jeeves.' I gripped his black tie, sliding it from his waistcoat and using it to lead him towards the bedroom. 'I'm curious. Can you hit a low D, I wonder?'

Jeeves smirked in response and followed obligingly.

fin.

Thank you all for being so nice and patient while I kill myself over NaNoWriMo. (Except for octopireggie who is an absolute beast.) I didn't want to post this without newbaskerville because it was originally meant to be a collab, but I also wanted to treat y'all to something nice in the midst of my MIA November. I hope you enjoy it, and I will see you in December when I am human again.

EDIT: Download the podfic here.

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