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vocab_drabblesTitle: Supercilious
Fandom: Jeeves & Wooster
Pairing: Bertie/Jeeves
Rating: Gen
Length: 500
Warning: Non-graphic description of oral sex/fellatio
Summary: Bertie's underpants are buzzing.
I once hauled up my slacks when a chappie, who happened to be my bridge partner at the time, accused me of having a supercilious manner. At least, I think that was the word. At the time, I understood the gauntlet thrown to be something to do with Jeeves’ kindred spirit Mary Poppins, but Jeeves later explained that supercilious meant thinking you’re better than everyone else. Even so, I maintain my reaction stands. Bertram Wooster is not supercilious at all. I mean to say, can anyone who most regard as belonging in a glass house for the feeble-minded really toss stones? Or something to that effect. I think Aunt Agatha had paired me with the blighter in an effort to demonstrate what a dutiful nephew should be, but she should’ve known the lesson was wasted. I simply didn’t like the cove’s brand of tobacco and told him so while recommending the shop I frequent, and the other took unnecessary offense. Some will do that. Can’t be helped.
But this is all unnecessary preamble to the incident of the buzzing underpants.
“Jeeves!” I called after returning from that bromide of an evening. I was sore because I had been blackmailed into spending far too many hours playing bridge with Aunt Agatha and her passel of barbed-wired-next-the-skin cronies.
I’d gone to my room to rid myself of the raiment but quickly returned to the common areas with news from my Rialto.
“My underpants are buzzing, Jeeves!”
I must add here that Jeeves and I were not in London but rather on a kind of rural jaunt in the hinterlands, staying in a gamekeeper’s cottage oozing with bucolic charms.
“Indeed, sir?” responded Jeeves. “Most unsettling.”
“Can you do something about it?”
“Certainly, sir.”
It turned out what he could do was drop to his knees, make deft work on the front of my trousers, and proceed to give the pride of the Woosters a most glorious seeing-to.
When I could call my soul my own again, I gasped. “Fabulous, Jeeves. Really, you’ve out done yourself and out done me, but, and not to put too fine a point on it, it doesn’t really solve the case of the buzzing underpants.”
“No, sir?”
“I don’t mean these underpants; I mean the ones folded up in my wardrobe. They’re buzzing.”
Jeeves rose and followed me into the bedroom.
“Ah,” he said when the folded cotton began to vibrate. “Allow me, sir.”
“I always do, Jeeves.”
“If you will open that window, sir.”
It was the work of a moment to have the night air drifting in.
Jeeves carefully carried the garment to the window, then extending it into the exterior, shook it.
It was then that a big fat honeymaker escaped the confines of the gent’s unmentionable and took flight, no doubt to return to the hive and tell all its apiarian pals about the adventure he’d had.
“It had to be a drone, Jeeves. To get in a predicament like that. Super silly us.”
Fandom: Jeeves & Wooster
Pairing: Bertie/Jeeves
Rating: Gen
Length: 500
Warning: Non-graphic description of oral sex/fellatio
Summary: Bertie's underpants are buzzing.
I once hauled up my slacks when a chappie, who happened to be my bridge partner at the time, accused me of having a supercilious manner. At least, I think that was the word. At the time, I understood the gauntlet thrown to be something to do with Jeeves’ kindred spirit Mary Poppins, but Jeeves later explained that supercilious meant thinking you’re better than everyone else. Even so, I maintain my reaction stands. Bertram Wooster is not supercilious at all. I mean to say, can anyone who most regard as belonging in a glass house for the feeble-minded really toss stones? Or something to that effect. I think Aunt Agatha had paired me with the blighter in an effort to demonstrate what a dutiful nephew should be, but she should’ve known the lesson was wasted. I simply didn’t like the cove’s brand of tobacco and told him so while recommending the shop I frequent, and the other took unnecessary offense. Some will do that. Can’t be helped.
But this is all unnecessary preamble to the incident of the buzzing underpants.
“Jeeves!” I called after returning from that bromide of an evening. I was sore because I had been blackmailed into spending far too many hours playing bridge with Aunt Agatha and her passel of barbed-wired-next-the-skin cronies.
I’d gone to my room to rid myself of the raiment but quickly returned to the common areas with news from my Rialto.
“My underpants are buzzing, Jeeves!”
I must add here that Jeeves and I were not in London but rather on a kind of rural jaunt in the hinterlands, staying in a gamekeeper’s cottage oozing with bucolic charms.
“Indeed, sir?” responded Jeeves. “Most unsettling.”
“Can you do something about it?”
“Certainly, sir.”
It turned out what he could do was drop to his knees, make deft work on the front of my trousers, and proceed to give the pride of the Woosters a most glorious seeing-to.
When I could call my soul my own again, I gasped. “Fabulous, Jeeves. Really, you’ve out done yourself and out done me, but, and not to put too fine a point on it, it doesn’t really solve the case of the buzzing underpants.”
“No, sir?”
“I don’t mean these underpants; I mean the ones folded up in my wardrobe. They’re buzzing.”
Jeeves rose and followed me into the bedroom.
“Ah,” he said when the folded cotton began to vibrate. “Allow me, sir.”
“I always do, Jeeves.”
“If you will open that window, sir.”
It was the work of a moment to have the night air drifting in.
Jeeves carefully carried the garment to the window, then extending it into the exterior, shook it.
It was then that a big fat honeymaker escaped the confines of the gent’s unmentionable and took flight, no doubt to return to the hive and tell all its apiarian pals about the adventure he’d had.
“It had to be a drone, Jeeves. To get in a predicament like that. Super silly us.”
