Sweet And Hot! Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, And Other

[cuddyclothes]

We've heard you asking, and now we're answering! Here is a post for the prompts that have gotten lost in the Kinkiness post! (However, sex is encouraged. You know how it is around here.) Do you need Bertie crying? Jeeves crying? Jeeves and Bertie stuck outside during a snow storm? Getting a puppy? Warm fluffy goodness? Devastating angst?

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"Protect me, Jeeves! That cove wants to steal my puppy!"
"Leave it to me, sir."

Comments

[(Anonymous)]

Hi, not sure if anyone's up for it but how about Jeeves and Wooster Infantilism?
Non-sexual please! There are limits! Just Jeeves taking care of little Bertie. I'm trying to scribe some myself but nothings cooking at the mo.

FILL: The Caregivers (1/1)

[(Anonymous)]

When Mrs Travers's angry bellowing finally ceased, the study door banged open and emitted my gentleman. He was unmistakably in distress, patchily pale and flushed, a sheen of tears standing in his eyes. It would be an understatement to say that I was surprised by Mr Seppings hurriedly crossing to him, murmuring to him, and taking his hand, all before I could make my presence known.

Mr Seppings led Mr Wooster out through the house to my master's usual small guest bedroom, and entered the room with him. I found myself in a state of confusion, watching the head butler take on some aspect of my role, especially at their joined hands. Could there possibly be an affair? Was he returning to a habit of looking after Mr Wooster as he must have done throughout my gentleman's childhood?

If the latter, I could safely enter the room to do my own part in supporting him. If the former, it would be an invasion of my master's privacy to intrude. I weighed what I knew of him, his preferences, and the severe disapprobation that his Aunt had unleashed upon him. I took a well-calculated chance, and knocked softly.

"Enter." It was Mr Seppings' voice.

I slipped into the room unobtrusively. Mr Wooster was sitting slumped on his bed, tears on his face. He was holding a well-worn stuffed animal that I had not seen before, possibly intended to be a rabbit.

"Master Bertie," Seppings was saying, "Jeeves is here for you now. I'm going to step out to bring you some refreshments, sir, but I will be right back, and you are safe here. You are not in trouble; all will be well. I would not lie to you, young man."

"Thank you, Mr Seppings," said Mr Wooster in a small voice.

The butler rose and approached me with a fierce look in his eye, and said, sotto voce, "If he begins to shake, or if he pulls his hair, please sit with him. And be kind. He is in need of so much more comfort than he has ever been given."

I nodded, impassive at the almost-accusation, and Mr Seppings left. I allowed my impassivity to ease, however, when turning to Mr Wooster.

"Sir, I could not help but hear Mrs Travers speaking to you a moment ago. It was most unfair, I thought, to blame you for the situation, and terribly unkind to berate you."

His lip trembled, then he hiccupped on a sob and his hand crept toward his hair. I had been looking for the cue; I sat down beside him at once, and he sort of lurched against me, hugging and leaning on me as I put my arm around him. I produced my handkerchief and dried the tears from his face and neck. Internally I struggled to understand what I was seeing from my ordinarily cheerful and self-possessed gentleman, but outwardly it was perfectly straightforward to offer him comfort.

He was tugging at his tie, awkwardly undoing the knot one-handed before pulling it from his throat. I accepted the tie and assisted him with unbuttoning his collar, imagining an anxious state that made pressure on his throat uncomfortable, and he huffed a sigh as though relieved. He kicked off his shoes with unusual carelessness and drew his legs up onto the bed.

"Would you care to change out of your morning suit, sir?" I said, and he nodded. I made short work of his waistcoat buttons, hanging the waistcoat and jacket before returning with his housecoat. When I draped it over his shoulders he slipped his arms through both sleeves at once, an oddly childish movement, and caught up the stuffed toy before it fell from his lap. I sat down beside him again, ignoring the impropriety as he cuddled against me once more.

Mr Wooster heaved another sigh. "I was trying to be good," he said in a tentative, fragile voice.

"In my experience that is frequently the case, sir."

He looked up at me, his face guileless. "You like me, don't you?"

"Yes, sir. I like you very much." It would be inappropriate to answer like with love, but it would be utterly true.

We both looked toward the door, but did not disentangle from each other, as a knock sounded. A servant's knock.

"Enter," I said.

Mr Seppings came in with a tray loaded with tea, biscuits, a bowl of berries, and a piece of cake with a frosting rosette.

"Oh!" said my master, a bright smile breaking through his worried manner. "That looks grand." His face grew concerned again just as quickly when I moved away from him to make room for the tray. "You won't tell my Auntie that I spoiled my dinner, will you?"

"No, sir, I would not. Your comfort and safety are my highest priorities."

"There, Master Bertie," Seppings said, settling the tea-tray over his lap, nodding approvingly at my words, but also as though prompting me. It was not what he would ordinarily call Mr Wooster, and it caused something to settle gently into place in my understanding of this Unusual Situation.

I put little stock in Freudian psychology (and, until now, Freud's concept of regression), but a great deal in the evidence of my senses and my gentleman's earnest nature. I remembered, too, that he was orphaned while in primary school; that he had spent time here at Brinkley Court; that this may have been his own childhood bedroom if the rabbit toy had been secreted here. Looking at him with fresh compassion, I could almost see a shadow of that young boy sitting cross-legged on the bed, there at the heart of him.

"Master Bertie," I echoed, and he smiled.

Re: FILL: The Caregivers (1/1)

[(Anonymous)]

This is wonderful!