It really was a dashed fortunate thing that Jeeves knew about DramaDramaDuck, otherwise Bertie would have had a job explaining to him precisely who he was taking out for drinks that night. As it was, however, he merely explained that Apollo- yes, the Greek deity chappie- was coming 'round for a moment or two, before the two of them would be embarking on a night on the town. Jeeves could have the night as he pleased, as Bertie rather doubted the Young Master would require his assistance for the rest of the night. Naturally, he didn't precisely mention anything about the nature of the drink he was having with Apollo.
It was ten to seven now, and Bertie was loafing about the flat whilst Jeeves shimmered about in the background, tidying and washing and doing other quiet, valet-y sorts of things. As for Bertie, he was idly practising his putting into one of the more solid glasses he owned. He'd broken enough already this way, and he didn't care for a Jeevesian glare just before a night on the town with the o. of his a. No, that would not do at all. It was a near thing a couple of times, though; he was positively bubbling over with v, v, and vitality tonight, up to the gills with excitement about seeing Apollo. Dash it all if he didn't feel like a kid again, blushing at the thought of his crush, but there it was. This was rather a new experience for Bertie, after all, being the object of romance from someone he actually wanted it from.
Rather an exciting thing, really. Bertie grinned down at his shoes, lining up his next shot.
Comfortably ensconced beneath his blankets, Bertie squirmed a little, making small, snuffling noises of contented sleepiness. Instinctively, he cuddled up to the warm shape of a body next to him, one long leg slipping over those of his companion. The moment was so lovely, in fact, that Bertie didn't even really mind when he found himself drifting slowly but steadily into wakefulness. It was a rare thing indeed that he awoke before Jeeves arrived with his morning tea, and usually it entailed aunts or Fink-Nottles or other undesirables hanging on the bell, requesting the dubious honour of Bertram's presence. At this moment though, it was nothing but him and Apollo. Bertie wriggled onto his side, facing the other man, and the sleepy smile he gave him was so soppy, it might well have been worthy of Madeleine Bassett herself.
He lay quite contentedly for an indeterminate amount of time, warm and fuzzy under his blankets, in the weak, warm rays of the rising sun that filtered in through the window, until he realised precisely where he was.
They were in his flat. In his bed. Bertie's eyes shot open, and he flipped over, groping for the alarm clock on his nightstand. 9:45. Jeeves was due to shimmer in with the old breakfast tray at any moment, and here Bertie was, lying in an unmistakably intimate embrace with another man. Another man who- as was his habit- was sleeping entirely naked.
He clutched frantically at his face for a moment before turning back to Apollo, shaking him hard. 'Dash it all, wake up!' He hissed. 'We are in the wrong house, O l. of the Wooster b. If Jeeves finds us here...' he trailed off with a little shiver, before shoving at Apollo's shoulder again. Getting thrown in chokey for gross indecency would be just the way to ruin what had started off as a lovely morning.
The weather on this particular night was properly miserable and English; chilly and wet, with rain that couldn't quite decide whether it wanted to fall or not. It was the kind of weather, in fact, that made Bertie very glad indeed that he was currently lounging about inside his warm and comfortable flat with a w and s in one hand and a lazily smouldering cigarette in the other. Though, he reflected, if he wanted to give young Miss River and her flesh and blood a proper taste of what London was like, this was the perfect night for it. Blowing a smoke ring (and grinning at the effect), he bounced up out of his chair to press his nose to the window, looking out for any sign of Harry and his two companions. Nothing. Granted, he was about seven storeys up, which made differentiating between umbrella'd figures below rather difficult, but even so.
He'd given Jeeves the night off, telling the man, quite truthfully, that he was off on the metrop. for a bit of a razzle with a chum or three. And if he'd not told Jeeves precisely who those chums were, then what of it? Bertie was- understandably- he thought, a bit wary of that. Jeeves had no idea what had transpired the last time Harry had popped 'round for a visit, but the memory of it stuck to him like molasses, and anyway, he had his doubts about Jeeves's ability to read minds. Best to be careful, he thought.
Because it's going around like a virus- comment here and darling Bertie will tell you what precisely he thinks of your characters. Or rather, I will. But, you know.
Aww, Bertie is so painfully
virginal. It amuses me.
|Your Ultimate Purity Test 2.0 Score Is... |
| ||Your Score:||Average For All Users||Average For All |
|Dating||69.23%||34.15%||Flirts mildly, then runs away |
|Self-Lovin'||86.36%||60.82%||Never taken out of the packaging |
|Shamelessness||93.55%||77.33%||Has yet to see self in mirror |
|Sex Drive||92.86%||75.02%||Monks are envious |
|Gayness||44.44%||78.03%||At least one weekend of ecstasy |
|Submissive||95.24%||86.95%||Submits to no one... almost |
|Fucking Sick||97.96%||89.79%||Refreshingly normal |
|Straightness||100%||39.2%||Just go fuck something, okay? |
|Dominant||100%||86.62%||Afraid to cross at "Don't Walk" signs |
|Total Score||88.78%||73.67%|| |
|Take The Ultimate Purity Test 2.0|
and see how you match up!
(By The Ferrett)
...but it seemed a bit of a lark, don't you know, and I thought: well, why on earth not, Bertram old fruit? So here we are! Do you worst, all!
- I _____ Bertie.
- Bertie is _____.
- Bertie likes to ______.
- I want to _____ Bertie.
- Bertie can ______.
- Someday Bertie will ______.
- Bertie reminds me of ______.
- Without Bertie, it would be _____.
- Right now, I bet Bertie is thinking about _____.
- Bertie makes me want to _______.
- If I could spend the day with Bertie, I'd _____.
- Bertie is made of _______.
- If I could be Bertie for a day, I'd ______.
- Bertie's alter-ego is __________.
- I want to give Bertie ______.
Because they've been tossing about the idea of having a daemon!virus- I took the quiz, and here is Bertie's daemon.
Desra, a jackal. Flexible, outgoing, sociable, spontaneous, modest
I think it's well-suited enough. What say you all?
Bertie lounged in one of the plush chairs in the main room of the flat, immersing himself in Rex West's latest detective novel. A lazy gasper smouldered away in his fingers, and, raising it to his lips, he allowed his head to fall backwards as he exhaled an indulgent plume of smoke, hovering in the still, inside air. The clock on the mantelpiece ticked away, nigh five, and Bertie bounced a little on the cushions, humming a snatch or two of 'Forty Seven Ginger-Headed Sailors.' Mr. Saxon ought to be arriving soon. Or Harry, Bertie supposed, though he'd never actually called the man as much. Bit of a queer thing for two chaps to have cocktails together when they're not even on first name terms.
He'd got the telegram yesterday, and it was currently lounging, half-folded, on a side table.
HARRY TO BERTIE EN ROUTE TO BRINKLEY COURT PRESENTLY STOP, it read,
- I WILL ARRIVE AT FIVE PM MAKE ARRANGEMENTS STOP - MUCH ANTICIPATION TOWARDS MEETING YOU STOP - WILL BRING GIFT NO NEED TO RETURN FAVOUR STOP - MANY REGARDS
The reason it remained there undisturbed was because tonight was Jeeves’s night off, and he was undoubtedly down at the Junior Ganymede Club or at the local pub, making mincemeat of any competitors in darts. Had the man been there, of course, the telegram would have been immediately cleared off and set somewhere out of sight.
Now it was almost five, he wasn't worried- Bertie wasn't often worried, really, unless it involved a Glossop or a Craye attaching herself to him- but he did find himself filled with a curious anticipation. Saxon was... quite different from anybody Bertie had ever spoken to, and he thoroughly enjoyed his conversations with the man, even when he was a tad... distracted. All this talk about different worlds, different times... it made him curious, made him want to learn about them. This in itself was rather unusual, really, but the community seemed to be doing that to him; River, Saxon- they brought out something rather different in Bertie. But then, conversing with the likes of Barmy Fotheringay-Phipps and Tuppy Glossop daily was hardly a strain on the intellect, so really, a conversation with anyone of any intelligence was a change in and of itself.
But now was not the time for such thoughts! Not when there was a whodunit sitting unread in his lap, at least, and Bertie quickly returned to the book, taking another drag on the cigarette as he did so. It was another five, maybe ten minutes before there came a sharp rap on the door, and Bertie startled a little in his chair before realising who it must be and grinning broadly. He bounced onto his feet and stubbed out the cigarette, then strode over to the door and swung it open with an easy smile.
‘What ho, what ho, what ho!’