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Laments of an Icarus

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My employer was kind, far too kind. I believed that he thought it was a necessity to be giving and selfless in nature, so when we ran into a situation involving a lack of lodgings in the servants quarters while visiting, reluctantly so, his aunt who went by Mrs. Worplesdon, previously Gregson and his solution that he presented to me, stuck me quite blind.

“Tosh, Jeeves, this is hardly a rummy affair. Just sleep in my quarters,” His hand motioned around while he was rummaging through the luggage I had packed merely hours prior, “Do happen to know where my blue tie disappeared to? I was dashed sure I placed it the bag before we toddled off,”

“The other compartment, sir,” I immediately answered his latter query through habitual professional reflexes, “Sir, there are not two beds in your quarters.”

“Ah, thank you. I fail to see your point, Jeeves, the bed is large enough for two people, and considering the circs it would simply be like two chums, like back in my school days. I say, you never knew who you would wake up beside after a night of what Bingo fondly titled ‘Drink or Dare’ which always ended in disaster. This is hardly any different, other than the drinking whatits,”

I felt the shock of his words pour over me like ice water, I attempted to school my facial features into the ‘stuffed frog’ facade as he deems it before he could pick up on any residual shift in my expression, “That is not advisable, sir,”

I attempted to say it with a neutrality that I did not particularly feel, and he picked up on the subtle differences, his head tilting over his shoulder at my tone. It was more of an infrequent occurrence, however my employer had a tendency to pick up on nuances of my patterns in tone and body language that most would not notice. I believe it was partially due to the fact that we remained in close quarters for a number of years and he has had the time to pry apart my facade and stoic demeanor.

“Why ever not?” He demanded with what could only be described as a soft curiosity, “We are only here for the night due to her blasted birthday social gathering, it is already bally dark, and it is not as if I’m going to allow you to sleep on floor while this Wooster dozes on cushioned comfort, what?”

There are a numerous amount of reasons as to why it was illogical idea, all of which were at the tip of my fingers to utter to him then. He had shrugged on his blue tie, lord how it alights the colour in his soft eyes, and I stepped towards him then, my hands making work of the loose knot, “Perhaps you may have a logical point, sir.”

I am weak man, it seemed, much weaker than I could have ever imagined.

When he returned later that evening, buzzing with a warm languid demeanor that only alcohol can create, he looked indescribable. His tie was loose, swaying as he walked, the first two buttons his dress shirt had come undone, he was carrying his mess jacket, and his hair was ruffled in every which way. He shut the door, surprising himself when he caught his jacket in the process, and laughed to himself as he opens the door again to free the captured arm. His vision fell on me and he radiated warmth, “Jeeves! My good chap,”

“Pleasant evening, sir?”

“Quite the opposite, I’m afraid. Aunt-centric social gatherings are dreadfully dull as a stand alone entity, but Aunt Agatha social gatherings centered around the age of her birth are more mind numbing than I could ever put into proper explanation,” He gave me the most deviously boyish smile and my heart betrayed my mind for a small moment, “I nearly drank myself to the grave just to add a bit of, what’s the word, uh,”

“Excitement, sir?”

“That’s the baby,” He slid out of his shoes and walked toward me, “Put me to bed, Jeeves,”

Instead of stopping front of me, his lack of motor skills while inebriated landed him softly against my chest, his words burning holes in my lungs. His head rested, slouched just inches from my collarbone and and he let out a small gasp followed by warm laughter. I found myself closing my eyes at the contact, my hands instinctively reaching out to steady his shoulders. I wished I had the time to lose myself in the sensation, but it would say too much, no matter what little he could comprehend in his state.

It was an easy task, despite his lack of coordination, and once he was in his garments for the night, he threw himself quite forcefully a top of the bed and let his feet wrangle his way under the covetures. I made my way for the door, “Where are you going, Jeeves?”

I remained silent for a moment, considering my words, “I am going to let you sleep, sir.”

“Aren’t you going to sleep? If not, I can wait until you decide to join yours truly as I don’t feel as if trust that you will bally well show up later,”

The man had, most of the time, an atrocious memory but this was not one of those mentioned times, “Sir-”

“If it makes you uncomfortable, all of you have to do is say the word, and we can create some little semblance of a wall with pillows if that’s what it will take to get you to sleep with,” He tripped over his words and I turned around then but whatever expression graced his features was long gone, “beside me. You have my word of honour, that I won’t bother you, I’m really not that squirmish, and I can tell you I’ve had to sleep beside my fair share of squirmish chaps,”

He was gnawing on his bottom lip, and I loathe the thought of giving him the impression that I had any negative concepts around the idea of sleeping beside him, however in the same vain, I feared giving him the knowledge that the direct opposite was one of the most painfully true realities of my existence and that I was aware of it every time I took a breath.

“Very well, sir, I will change," I had the utmost difficult time, as this situation represents, refusing him in any way.