A Joostery FST and drabbles
Mar. 5th, 2009 10:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
trieduntureI haven't done much with my fan-life lately, so I thought I would remedy that by sharing a Jooster soundtrack I made myself while writing Letter for Letter and I'll probably also listen to it while finishing up the Time Travel!fic. It's just a nice mellow mix with some sappy love songs mixed in with more funky things.
For those who want to skip to the FST goodness, here you are:
CocoRosie -- By Your Side
Soltero -- Communist Love Song
Beirut -- Idle Days
Ben Gibbard -- Secrets of the Heart
Dido -- Don't Leave Home
Emily Haines and the Soft Skeleton -- Reading in Bed
Ben Lee -- Music 4 the Young and Foolish
Fiona Apple -- Never is a Promise
The New Amsterdams -- All Our Vice
Feist -- A Limit to Your Love
M83 -- Dark Moves of Love
Arab Strap -- There is No Ending
Moby -- Love Should
Smashing Pumpkins -- Blank Page
Matthew Ryan -- Return to Me
Obadiah Parker -- Hey Ya (Acoustic Cover)
The National -- City Middle
Download individual tracks here.
Download the whole zipped shebang here.
Now for a small drabble for each song. Enjoy!
<><><><>
1. I'll iron your clothes/and shine your shoes/I'll make your bed/and cook your food
There was a small window of perhaps three or four minutes when Mr Wooster was bathing that Jeeves was not required to tend to anything. These were the times when the day's suit had already been laid out, when the shaving implements were readied, when Mr Wooster was sunk low in the hot water and not in need of a chat.
In these moments, when Jeeves could allow himself a small indiscretion, he would pause in the uniform making of the bed, and he would skim the palm of his hand lightly over the still-bodywarm bedclothes and breathe in the scent of a young, virile man, his own master.
2. It was well conceived in theory/but it doesn't work in life
It wasn't a question of wanting; Jeeves knew he wanted, he wanted to the very pit of his unworthy and tarnished soul. It was a question of how to channel that wanting into anything other than the blackest of anger. Jeeves pondered this as his cigarette came to an end, smoked to the very filter. His mighty brain could conceive of a million plots to ensnare Mr Wooster for himself, but what was the point? In reality, how could a master and valet function as anything other than master and valet?
Jeeves finished his gasper and crushed it under his shoe. He had to try.
3. Without my heart/what can I do?
Bertie didn't have the first clue how to get from the train station to Jeeves; he only knew that somewhere in this Austrian village was one paragon of a man attempting to take his annual holiday. Bertie hated to shoulder his way in like this; Jeeves deserved every moment of free time, after all; but this was an emergency. A dashed apocalypse.
He must have ran through a million cobbled streets and inquired at a thousand charming inns. It was the last one, of course, that held Jeeves. Out of breath and pink-cheeked, Bertie waved off his concerned manservant.
'Sir?' Jeeves asked.
'Dreadfully sorry,' Bertie explained in broken pants, 'but I rather missed you.'
4. It's late and I can't stay/the secrets of the heart
She knew. How could she not know? She had known Bertie since they were both so high, he in curls and sailor suits, and she in frilled frocks and ribbons. There was a certain Look that Bertie got once in a long while. It was a look Angela remembered first appearing when Bertie had learned the piano. A glow, is what it was, framing his whole self.
He now looked at Jeeves like he had that piano.
5. 'Cause I will be your safety/Oh, don't leave home
Bertie shuffled from the salle de bain back to bed by memory alone. It was still too dark to see. He bumped a knee on an overturned ottoman, but he couldn't be blamed for forgetting about that. He felt blindly for the edge of the bed with his hands, and he encountered a warm arm reaching for him.
He smiled to himself as Jeeves pulled him up on the bed to lay across that solid valet chest of his. Bertie hummed contentedly into the skin beneath his lips.
'Thanks awfully, Jeeves,' he murmured before drifting off again.
6. All of your lives unled/reading in bed
Jeeves closed the door of his quarters behind him softly. Putting Mr Wooster to bed after such an evening's excitement had been exhausting. He shed his clothes and slid into bed, reaching as he always did for his current book, sitting on the bedside table. His sister's voice came to him then, as it always did when he was weary and unable to think of going on as he did.
'You could do anything you wanted with that mind of yours, Reg,' she said. 'Why stick with this valet business?'
Jeeves opened his book with a sigh; it was one of Mr Wooster's preferred mysteries. He had lent it to Jeeves, and Jeeves hadn't been able to refuse.
That was probably why, he mused, he stuck to this valet business.
7. So take me over/and leave me broken/'cause this is music/for the young and foolish
Bertie burst in through the front door in something of a stupour. It had really been a spectacular night at the Drones, one of their best. And Bertie wasn't quite ready for it to come to an end.
'Jeeves!' he summoned.
'Sir?' Said valet materialised with no fanfare whatsoever.
'Dancing.'
'Yes, sir?'
'I require some more of it.' Bertie swept through the parlour, spinning to the beat of an imagined jitterbug, holding his invisible partner in his arms. 'Can you dance at all, Jeeves?'
'Not in the fashion which you are accustomed, sir. Shall I see you to bed now?' And Jeeves shepherded the young master accordingly.
8. The only thing/that you keep changing/is your name/my love keeps growing
'No, no, Jeeves, please don't!' Mr Wooster's hands scrabbled at me, clutching here at a sleeve, here at my hand as if he couldn't decide how best to keep me.
My heart cracked in two, but I kept my composure. 'I must go, sir. Please forgive me.' I muttered these last words as I bent to pick up my packed valise.
'Dash it, man! What have I done? What must I do? Just tell me now, Jeeves, and I swear I'll--'
'There is nothing.' I cut him cruelly, I knew. I could see it in his expressive face, but as much as it pained me, I could not let him know about the letter I carried in my coat pocket, the threat against his very life. If I could do this, I could save him. If I could do this.
His hand still rested on my arm.
'Don't you love me anymore?' His voice was a small thing.
I thought of the letter I held in my pocket, the cursed missive from Mrs Gregson, reporting exactly what she suspected and exactly what steps she would take to ensure her nephew remained in an institution for the rest of his days. And exactly what I could do to prevent it: to leave forever, and never come back. So I gave my first and final lie to my employer.
'No,' I said, and turned to leave. He did not follow.
9. My feelings swell and stretch/I see from greater heights/I understand what I am still to proud to mention/to you
When it happens, Jeeves is stunned. For the most part because it isn't anything particularly special. It is only his master, whom he sees daily, sitting in a certain armchair in a certain shaft of sunlight, the gleam in his hair a certain gold and the cigarette in his hand a certain red glow.
Jeeves knew because it was nothing logistically different from a thousand times he'd seen a man sitting and smoking in the sunlight. And yet, this time tugged at him, seeped through his skin to that space below where he kept everything locked away like a bank vault. He looked at Mr Wooster then, and he felt. He saw Mr Wooster not as his employer, not as his young master to guide and mould, but a beautiful creature, full of grace and gentleness.
'Jeeves?' Mr Wooster asked.
Jeeves blinked from where he'd been standing with the brandy decanter poised for quite some time. 'Yes, sir. My apologies, sir.' And he finished pouring.
10. I love I love I love/all the trouble that you give me
After the first kiss, Bertie is so very, very careful. Careful not to fall in love with a pair of loud spats or a boldly patterned pair of socks. Careful not to bring home a piece of bright head-joy, careful not to remark on a corking check suit striding down the avenue.
He knows Jeeves wouldn't abide these things, and now that he loves Jeeves more than he could ever love some Etonian spats, Bertie is keen not to test Jeeves' love for the young master. Except, on his birthday, he finds a wrapped package on the breakfast tray, and Jeeves' smile (such as it is) indicates who it is from.
It's one of his old ties. One of the first Jeeves had ever discarded.
'I thought you had burned it,' Bertie says in wonder.
Jeeves lifts an eyebrow. 'A moment of weak sentimentality, sir. Felicitations on your day of birth.'
Bertie smiles. 'I love you too, old thing.'
11. I will fight through time to bring you back
Bertie was nearly certain that the human spine could bend no further in a C shape, but he was proven wrong when Jeeves once again licked him. Right. There.
'Don't stop,' he whispered upwards.
Jeeves drew his lips across the hot skin of Bertie's hip. 'I don't intend to,' he answered.
12. Secret double life/sleep with one eye open/maybe you'll save my life
They have to be very clever about it, but Bertie has indicated he cannot go 24 hours without so much as a brush against Jeeves' skin, and so they're forced to resort to clandestine touches. Fingertips on a wrist as a cigarette lighter is offered. A breath on the back of a neck as the first course is served. No one can know, and Bertie fears his eyes are giving them away, because he cannot stop bally staring at Jeeves in those white gloves.
Fancy dress balls are the worst. Bertie is dressed as a whole new person, but Jeeves must remain Jeeves.
'I don't imagine you would be allowed to go off for a romp with Robin Hood?' Bertie asks during one such ball while Jeeves is supposed to be serving flutes of champagne.
Jeeves gives him that look that says, 'Nice try, Wooster.'
13. Then I can guarantee I'll do/The same as long as you can bear
Being old, Bertie decided one morning, was no fun at all. He came to this conclusion while attempting to bend down and pick up the morning paper from where the doorman had left it on the doormat. And Bertie's back, which was dodgy at the best of times, announced that it was going to be out for the day and someone should hold all calls.
'Bertram?' Jeeves shimmered into view only seconds after Bertie had let loose an alarmed squeak from the doorway. 'Is your back seizing up again, darling?'
'No, Reginald, I just thought this would be a novel way to spend the morning,' Bertie snapped from his bent-over position.
But Jeeves, being Jeeves, knew exactly how to handle a cranky old coot like Bertram W. Wooster. He gave his longtime helpmeet a swat to the vulnerable rear and said, 'Splendid. Shall I roger you in the hallway, or would you like me to instead help you to bed and call the doctor?'
Bertie sighed, bracing his hands on his hips. 'The doctor,' he finally said.
'All right, love.' And Jeeves snaked an arm round Bertie's waist to help guide him back inside.
Bertie thought for a mo'. 'Although maybe when I'm feeling more up to it, the first option could be--'
'Pace yourself, sir,' Jeeves said dryly.
14. Holding close to love/when love should fade
It was only supposed to have been one week-end. One insane, wonderful, preposterous week-end in one of those Italian villas. Bertie was supposed to meet his fellow Drones for a short trip to the casinos, but those plans had fallen through and he'd found himself alone with Jeeves in a rather remote area, far from anyone they knew, or even anyone at all.
One thing led to another, as the poet johnnie says.
They had agreed, between bouts of tangled sheets and sweat-soaked skin, that it was an isolated incident. One week-end where things had gone off the rails and caution met the wind and they had shaken hands.
'When we get back to London,' Jeeves had said tentatively.
'This won't happen again,' Bertie promised, tracking a path down his valet's bare flank with his fingertips.
But it only took three days back in London, three torture-filled days of trying to pretend that everything was gone, for both men to say dash it. The one week-end turned into two, then two and some weekdays, and then finally, something as constant as water.
15. Never meant to say anything/in bed I was half dead
Bertie smoked his sixteenth cigarette of the morning and looked down at the sheet of paper spread before him on his writing desk. His publisher was expecting his next fifty pages in a week, and he hadn't completed a single one. He looked up at the clock; still ticking, which meant the earth was somehow still spinning.
Though without Jeeves at the helm of the Wooster household, Bertie wasn't sure how that was possible. He lit a seventeenth gasper and glared down at his paper.
'Oh, dash it,' he finally muttered. He reached into the drawer for a telegram pad and jotted down:
JEEVES STOP I AM AN ASS STOP DISREGARD WHAT I SAID RE WOOSTER HEART STOP PLEASE COME HOME STOP
Bertie looked at the first words he'd written in days and wondered if they were the best fiction he'd ever done.
16. I have been the worst of kinds/a sorrowed heart/a cluttered mind
It was another early night for one B.W. Wooster. With no Jeeves-made meals and no Jeeves-shaken cocktails, and not even a Jeevesian conversation to be had, there was not much to be said for staying conscious. Bertie was just about to shut his eyes and hunker down in his bed for another long night when he heard something.
His touseled head shot up from its nest of bedclothes. It was the sound of a familiar key in the lock. Bertie didn't even bother with his house shoes; he ran straight to the door in bare feet.
Jeeves stood in the entryway, still clutching his travelling case. Bertie drank in the sight of him: tall, proud, bowler hat in place and face just as unreadable as ever.
'Jeeves,' he said. 'Are you--?'
Jeeves placed the valise on the carpet and removed his gloves, his eyes darting along the floor. 'I am home, sir,' he said simply.
Bertie flung himself at Jeeves like an acrobat on a springboard, and Jeeves caught him in the circle of his arms, Bertie laughing with joy the whole time.
17. Don't try to fight the feeling/Because the thought alone is killing me right now
'I know what it's like,' Bertie said after drawing his fingers through Jeeves' inky black hair for the twentieth time. 'It's like that soft felt on the bottoms of heavy furniture. You know, the thingummies that keep the floor from getting scuffed.'
Jeeves raised a lazy eyebrow and propped himself up on some pillows. 'Lesser men would find your analogy less than romantic, sir,' he pointed out.
'Good thing you're such a superior specimen.' Bertie burrowed closer to his valet, warm and solid beneath the covers. He feared he might be overdoing it, but dash it, this was the first time he'd managed to get Jeeves in bed in the altogether, and he was enjoying it thoroughly. 'Jeeves, do you think this is an event you would like to repeat?' he asked, trying for casual and sounding more like a high-pitched finch.
Jeeves lounged (which was just silly; paragons couldn't lounge as far as Bertie knew) against the sheets and hummed in thought. 'I believe,' he said finally, 'I wouldn't be able to resist again, sir.'
18. I have weird memories of you/Wearing long red socks and red shoes
Jeeves was the first to wake up the morning after.
Too many cocktails, too many cigars and scotches, too late into the night. Jeeves couldn't recall exactly how he'd been swept up in the thing, but he suspected it involved his new propensity for doing whatever would please Mr Wooster.
He glanced beneath the sheet to find himself completely naked.
Yes, he thought wryly. Anything to please Mr Wooster.
He looked over to where his master was still slumbering at his side. His pink mouth was open slightly, like a sweet child. Jeeves reached out to brush a lock of golden hair from his brow, but stopped himself at the last moment. He didn't know if that kind of brazen affection would be appreciated. Bloody hell, Jeeves couldn't even remember what happened after two in the morning. He had a vague memory of--
But no, even Mr Wooster wouldn't have worn matching socks and shoes in so garish a colour. Was that how they had become unclothed? Had Mr Wooster taunted him with foul apparel until, in a fit of mania, Jeeves had torn the clothes from him?
Jeeves lay still in bed, hoping for a plan or idea to form in his addled brain, but nothing seemed forthcoming. He was still laying there when a sigh fluttered from Mr Wooster's lips and Jeeves found himself the recipient of an armful of Wooster.
'Morning, old thing,' Bertie mumbled against his neck. 'Was it just my imagination, or did you really shred my socks last night?'
fin.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-06 06:48 am (UTC)Madam, you are a gift.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-06 09:04 am (UTC)KBAI
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-06 10:48 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-06 12:46 pm (UTC)God, number eight was heart-breaking...So few words but so much emotion.
Bally good job, old thing.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-06 02:53 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-06 03:48 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-06 06:43 pm (UTC)13, 15, 10. ♥ And all the others as well.^^
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-06 08:15 pm (UTC)and, *hugs* eight.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-06 09:22 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-06 11:26 pm (UTC)please?
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-07 08:31 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-06 11:25 pm (UTC)These are lovely!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-07 12:25 am (UTC)Now I don't want to sound stupid (not that it matters because we don't know each other), but I have a question about number 15. The telegram that Bertie wrote in re. the Wooster heart and it being fiction, was that a confession of love gone wrong or what? I'm just a little confused and feeling extremely dense.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-07 08:32 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-07 12:52 am (UTC)They're all great, but I loved #9, 10 (aww!), 14, 17, & 18 the very mostest. :D
Been thinkin' of doing a fanmix myself. Couldn't hurt for there to be more in this fandom, could it?
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-07 08:33 pm (UTC)Especially in a fandom as musical as this is!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-07 09:26 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-07 04:00 am (UTC)Can't wait to savor them all again once I've listened to the tunes. Thanks so much.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-07 04:11 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-07 06:31 am (UTC)How do you do it?
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-07 08:35 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-09 10:48 pm (UTC)I'm definitely motivated about the dancing/angst piece. It is brewing in the background as I work on Congolian adventures, part 647.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-07 03:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-07 08:36 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-07 04:02 pm (UTC)I think 14 is my favourite, because FUCK YES MOBY.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-07 08:37 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-08 02:36 am (UTC)Unf and mibble and hee too all of these. Am sure they will make more sense when read alongside the soundtrack.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-08 04:52 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-09 01:54 am (UTC)I have to ask, about number 8, what song are the lyrics "The only thing/that you keep changing/is your name/my love keeps growing" from? Because I could've SWORN that's an Arcade Fire song, yet I see no Arcade Fire on your tracklist! Halp!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-09 01:56 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-09 09:49 pm (UTC)The Lady 529
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-11 01:17 pm (UTC)ALSO V HAWT A+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Number 8
Date: 2009-04-19 02:04 am (UTC)For number 8 I think you should write a fic with that exact circ. and somehow have the two end up together, you are such a wonderful writer, it would be marvelous.
TNE
Re: Number 8
Date: 2009-04-25 10:02 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-04-25 10:01 am (UTC)All of these are simply marvelous. So many happy endings.
(no subject)
Date: 2013-04-18 01:14 am (UTC)