Artist/Author: rosesofred
Title: A Dreadful Afternoon
Fandom: Jeeves & Wooster
Summary: Bertie Wooster thought it the most excellent of ideas to feign illness. Of course, one must never underestimate the valet that cares for you on a daily basis. Especially not one as intellectually gifted as Jeeves, and most definitely not when he wields a weapon as terrible as The Paddle.
Notes & Warnings: spanking
Even knowing how important it was for Bertie to rest, Jeeves had to admit he missed the general calamity of sounds that the young man produced in the evenings. The atrocious songs he played on the piano, the chatter of gentleman who visited to smoke a cigar and lay back as it were with their favorite pal. It wasn’t as though he wanted Bertram to strain himself entertaining guests or try playing the piano with a sore throat but the young man hadn’t so much as left his room the past two days. The valet was beginning to worry that he may have been overly harsh in demanding his patient stay indoors and rest but he’d done what needed to be done, of that he was sure.
Jeeves entered the bedroom holding a tray of hot soup and tea, surprised to find his young gentleman no longer occupied the space. He walked around to the other side of the bed, following the trail of discarded blankets to discover a shivering mass lying flat against the carpeted floor. The valet set the tray down on the nightstand, crouching down beside him and clearing his throat politely. “May I inquire, Sir, as to how you’ve found yourself upon the bedroom floor?”
Bertie groaned, a shiver running across his skin. “Too hot.”
“I see. Would you care for a refreshing bath?”
He grumbled lowly, turning his head away. “Leave me, Jeeves. I’m too far gone.”
“Just as you say, Sir.” Jeeves stood up, reaching for the discarded blankets and draped them across the lanky form. He then went to the bathroom, running a lukewarm bath for his sickly employer. While the tub filled, Jeeves set out on finding a fresh set of clothes; carefully stepping over the man so he didn’t accidentally crush any fingers. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt the patient he was caring for. “If you could find it within yourself to stand up,” Jeeves asked the motionless blob, “It would be most helpful.”
He knelt down now, carefully placing his hands under the man so he could flip him. Bertie didn’t resist, only moaning pathetically as he was turned over, moving his hands to cover his sensitive eyes from the light of the bedroom. Bertram offered no compliance however so Jeeves found himself scooping up the stubborn man, lifting him as you would a bride or small child and carrying him to the awaiting bath.
The valet set him down beside the toilet, guiding him gently to sit on the lid. He leaned over to unbutton the man’s nightshirt, ignoring the protests. “Don’t want a bath,” Bertie grumbled, lifting his arms to barely resist and stop the hands from undressing him. Jeeves easily brushed them away, slipping the man’s arms out of the sleeves and lifting him to stand on his feet.
The valet slipped the pyjamas down his legs, leading him to the bathtub.
“I don’t want to,” he whined, though his statement was very much undermined by his own nakedness.
“I will not fight with you on this Bertram,” he warned, receiving a scowl. He put his hands on the man’s shoulders again, helping him into the tub.
Bertie sat in the lukewarm water, feeling quite miserable. “It’s too hot.” He reached for the faucet, meaning to run some cold water when Jeeves smacked his hand away. “I say, Jeeves!” He looked at his man in disbelief, voice gravelly with the cold. “What the devil was that for?”
“You will take your bath as it is, Bertram. Cold water will not help your fever.”
“Dash my fever Jeeves, I’m roasting! If I want cold water, why then-” he stopped at meeting his valet’s eyes, seeing the impending outcome they promised should he continue. “Fine.” Bertie crossed his arms, leaning back against the bathtub in defeat.
“Very good Sir. Will you require any assistance?”
“What with bathing? I’m hardly a child Jeeves,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. Being chained to the walls of his apartment had really put him off but he was careful not to overstep too far. At least the fear of being tossed over a certain valet’s knee was enough to keep him somewhat subdued, though it couldn’t last forever.
“Just as you say.” Jeeves gave him a warning look before leaving him to his business, knowing Bertie was too smart to try again with the water temperature.
The bath wasn’t so bad, if he were being perfectly honest with himself. It was certainly manageable, though he had the company of his favorite rubber ducky to thank for that. When he’d finished washing and left the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, Bertram was a bit taken aback to find a clean pile of regular clothes sitting atop his freshly made bed. Was Jeeves planning an outing, he wondered? Bertie excitedly dried himself off, quickly dressing and combing his unfortunate bedhead that stuck up at an angle on the side. They weren’t exactly outdoor clothes, he realised sadly, but rather lounging about sort of clothes, the kind you might wear to a dinner party. Regardless, regular clothes felt welcome either way, he’d long grown tired of only wearing pyjamas day and night. “I say, Jeeves?” he stepped out of his bedroom into the main area, a bit of life back in his step.
Upon reaching the valet however, he stopped a moment to take in that they weren’t alone. In fact his dear friend the newt lover sat perched eagerly on the end of their settee, a hopeful grin on his face. “A Mister Fink-Nottle to see you sir.”
“Hello Bertie!” the man stood up, holding a cage of sorts in his clammy hands.
“Gussie old pal,” he cleared his throat, suddenly feeling far too hot. “What in the dickens are you doing here?” He got a side eye from Jeeves but it happened so fast he barely even noticed and paid it no mind.
“Well I thought I might cheer you up. Look, I even brought you a little friend!” He held up the cage so Bertie could see the slimy little creature, a stupid smile stretched across his excited face. “No fun being sick and all. I’ve even brought a book.”
“That’s all good and fine Gussie, but aren’t you worried you might catch it? What I’ve got and all.”
“Oh pish posh, everyone needs a friend when they’re down.” It did make Bertram feel a little better knowing his pal didn’t mind risking his health to see him but did he really have to bring a newt of all things? Why not a dog or a cat even? At least those blasted little creatures knew how to mind their own business.
“Right well uh, let’s have a look then.” He sat down opposite Gussie and let the man tell him all about the newest breed of newts he’d found, these ones being special of course because of one black dot atop their backs. Because every slimy little beast is unique as he puts it, but these ones, oh these ones are special. Jeeves eventually brought out a tray of finger sandwiches and tea, thank god, and they enjoyed the light meal. Once they were sufficiently stuffed, Gussie read from his book A Great Compendium of Reptiles and Amphibians, Both Small and Large. Time itself seemed to pause once his friend began reading, like the universe was screaming ‘Please, make it stop.’ Or maybe it was just him who felt like taking the thing and tossing it right out the window.
“I say Bertie, you look like a ghost.” Gussie closed the book, placing it beside him. “Are you feeling alright?”
Bertram gave a low guttural groan, staring up at the ceiling in agony. “To be perfectly frank-” he looked at the man with annoyance but noticed the valet standing off to the side, his eyes clearly warning him not to say what he intended. “Never mind it.”
“If you say so. Oh! Would you like to have a peek at Esmerelda?”
“Why not, have you got a picture?”
“Oh no, even better! I caught her just last Thursday and gave her a cage all to herself.”
Bertie’s mind swam wildly for a few moments before realisation struck that Esmerelda wasn’t some poor girl Gus had chained up but rather the four-legged beady eyed little thing he’d brought along with him. “Good heavens. You had me going there for a moment, I must say.”
Gussie looked at him in confusion, not catching on to the mixup. “I’m not sure I understand. But here, she’s quite the beauty, you ought to see for yourself.” He lifted up the cage, his smile disappearing after a moment. “Bertie old friend, you’re not going to believe this.”
Bertram eyed him warily, hoping it wasn’t what he thought. “Are you telling me-” he stood up now, looking around him. “That you’ve let some slimy little whatsit devil loose in my flat?”
“She’s not a devil!” Gussie got down on his hands and knees, searching under the furniture for his lost friend. “Really, she’s very pretty and a great listener. You’ll like her once you meet her, I swear!”
“I don’t care if she’s the bloody queen of England!” Bertie picked up a pillow, throwing it at his friend when he found the space behind it empty. Gussie blocked the pillow with his arm, easily deflecting the soft weapon. “You lost the damned thing in my flat!” At this he broke into a coughing fit, trying to at least direct his head into his elbow so as not to get his pal sick.
“Bertie! I didn’t mean to, please don’t be cross.”
“Cross?!” Bertram turned away, looking for something to take his anger out on. Grabbing the cushions of the settee he flipped them all, throwing some to the floor in his frustration as he tore the thing apart searching. “Just find the bloody little gnat and get out!” He turned back around to both his scared friend and scowling manservant quietly staring at him, taking him off guard with their silence. “What?” Then he felt it, the cold, wet touch of a tiny amphibian trying to take passage across his neck and strained to look down at his shoulder. Two big black eyes stared back at him and he felt his spirit leave his body in fright as he screamed in terror.
“No, Bertie!” But it was too late and the scared young man found himself flailing his arms wildly like a madman, falling over the coffee table and knocking over anything unfortunate enough to be in his path. Gussie flew out of the way, trying to collect his things and search for his dear pet, terribly worried that the poor girl may have been smashed. But Jeeves, god bless his soul, had already found her and gently placed the amphibian back in the cage where she was safe. He offered a hand to the frantic man, helping him up as his employer thrashed around the floor like a fish.
“I’m sorry Bertie!” Gussie shouted back as he was ushered out the door by the valet, taking his courage with him.
Bertram rose to his feet, angrily righting his clothes as he huffed. “Newt fancying twat,” he mumbled. “Can you believe him, bringing over a blasted lizard of all things and-” he looked up to see his man approaching with an alarming speed, a determined expression on his face. “Now wait here-” But his words were cut off as he found himself yanked to the side and a merciless hand attacked his unexpecting backside. “Jeeves!” He squirmed and tried to pull away but the valet held him firmly in place, a strong grip around his bicep. Then just as quickly as it’d started he was spun around again and came face to face with the tall man, feeling suddenly sheepish.
“You will apologize to Mr. Fink-Nottle for your atrocious behavior.” Jeeves looked around the living room and immediately Bertie knew what he was doing. The valet was looking for a place to take him over his knee but when they both realised there were no available seats, Bertram breathed a sigh of relief.
“Right well uh-” he tried to back away but Jeeves shot him a dark look. “I’ll go chase him down then.”
“First you will answer for your unsightly actions.” The large man’s eyes settled on the coffee table and Bertie realised moments later that his doom had been sealed. Jeeves propped his leg up on the table in an uncharacteristic fashion and grabbed Bertram by the back of his jacket, hauling him up and over his knee.
“No, Jeeves!” he struggled to find his balance as he couldn’t touch the floor on either side. Bertie wrapped his arms around the valet’s leg for some kind of support, bending his knees defensively. “Please, not like this.”
Jeeves didn’t spare a moment, slamming his hand down onto his employer’s backside. “You will learn to behave yourself like the gentleman I know you are.” Bertie cried out as slap after slap rained down on his poor posterior, too lost in his own misery to hear his valet’s lecture. Just the indignity of the thing, being hurled over his man’s knee like a bally child was enough to get through his sour mood. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, yes!” Bertie scrunched his face up in pain, his legs kicking frantically behind him.
“Then you will find no trouble in repeating back to me precisely what it is you understand?” His hand rested on the man’s backside, ready to continue should his patient continue the tantrum.
“Just put me down, for god’s sake Jeeves this is preposter- ah!” The sharp smack came as a surprise to Bertie, he was sure Jeeves would go easy on him while he remained sickly.
“It appears a reminder is in order,” he lectured, his hand coming down swiftly. “Of how one should conduct themselves with company present.”
“Ow! I didn’t mean to, ah, hurt the damned thing, he shouldn’t have- OW!” He wiggled uselessly across the man’s knee, desperate to ease the sting and avoid another smack. Then with alarming speed he found himself lowered back to stand on his own two feet, staring blankly at his valet. “Oh, well, right,” he sputtered.
“I’m afraid we’re not quite through yet Bertram,” Jeeves informed gravely, his hands moving to undress him. Bertie stepped away, taken aback by this unwelcome news.
“Now wait just a minute-”
“I will not, we’re finishing the matter now.” Jeeves tugged him forward, pulling the man’s suit jacket off his shoulders.
“Jeeves,” he whined, teary eyed. “I didn’t mean to, I don’t like newts crawling on me.”
The valet lowered Betie’s suspenders, moving to unbutton his trousers. “That is not why you’re being smacked Bertram.” With his pants now undone and hanging loosely on his hips, Jeeves lifted him again, setting him in place across his lifted knee.
“But I didn’t mean to lose my temper, please Jeeves-” he choked up, fighting back the tears even without a hand attacking his backside. “Please don’t use the paddle!”
“You have not earned the paddle,” he soothed, lowering Bertie’s pants to rest at his bent knees.
Being too caught up in his feelings and far too upset to think straight, the sick young man threw his hands back, trying to cover his vulnerable seat. “It's not fair! This is all Gussie’s fault,” he argued.
Jeeves very easily captured Bertie’s hands, pinning them against the small of his back without much fight. He sighed softly, knowing this would be difficult for them both. Regardless, the large man lifted his hand, bringing it down after a second to land on Bertram’s posterior with a kindled force. To his surprise, the man across his knee didn’t make a sound but rather tensed his muscles, bringing himself in like a turtle trying to hide in its shell. So his hand came down again, then again, and again.
He set a steady rhythm, landing a smack every few seconds and alternating from side to side. His hand was actually big enough to cover the young man’s entire backside but he felt it a better tactic to use a rotating pattern. This really set a burning ache and made it easier to settle Bertie down, especially in the midst of a tantrum.
“Have you anything to say for yourself?”
Bertram let out a restrained breath, obviously trying not to break or let the tears through. He shook his head, shoulders held sharply and muscles flexed painfully, his body stiff and unmoving. “Bugger off,” he snapped.
Jeeves’ hand froze in the air, taken aback by the sudden retort. But he knew then that his young gentleman must be in desperate need of a firm hand if he was so willing to provoke him in such a position. He grabbed ahold of Bertie’s underpants, pulling them down to join his trousers while his belligerent patient struggled with renewed vigor. Down came his hand, not missing a beat as he rained down blows to the already red skin. “You will not use such language with me, Bertram Willbeforce.”
“Ah, Jeeves! Stop it, stop it!” His legs kicked back and forth in the air, unable to touch the floor or make contact with anything that could provide a satisfying impact. “STOP!” He demanded, his body contorting with the struggles of his defiance. But still the hand came down, still the pain exploded over and over again on his burning rump and he could do nothing to stop it. “Not fair,” he whined, losing some of his vigor.
“I might ask why one thinks it unfair?” Jeeves inquired, watching his charge carefully.
Bertie fought to gain his composure, wincing at the unrelenting hand that offered no reprieve. “Because Gussie, he did it!”
“And the it in question?”
Damn Jeeves and his sense of duty towards him. “He brought the slimy thing, it’s his fault!”
“Did it occur to you-” the valet stopped, resting his hand against Bertie’s sit spots. “That your guest may have been attempting to lift your spirits to the best of his abilities?”
“I- well- really he knows I don’t like newts.”
“That is no excuse.” His hand came down again and Bertram whined with indignation. “He deserved no such disrespect as you showed him.”
Bertie could hardly think with the aching sting growing so rapidly across his backside and he huffed grumpily. “Fine! Maybe I was a bit rude but- but nobody likes him anyways!”
“Bertram,” Jeeves pushed him forward, exposing his most sensitive sit spots and releasing his arms so he could support himself. Bertie reached down, one hand holding himself up and the other wrapping around his valet’s leg. As the first blow landed and he howled in pain, trying desperately to twist away from the unforgiving hand. “Whether or not he is liked,” he made sure the smacks were extra sharp, leaving no uncertainty to the severeness of his consequences. “Does not dictate the amount of respect he is due as your guest.”
“Alright! I understand, please sto-op” he cried, traitorous tears slipping down his red face.
“Would you treat the Lady Gregson in such a manner, were she to seek accommodation in your residence?”
Good heavens no, he certainly would not! It dawned on him then, how terribly he’d treated poor Gussie and he hung his head in shame. “No” he whispered, his voice wet with tears.
“Do you imagine she would tolerate such behavior from her nephew?” An especially harsh smack landed right on his undercurve and he winced, biting his bottom lip.
“No!”
“Then perhaps-”
A shriek came from the doorway, startling them both so that the entire affair halted in its tracks and they paused. Frozen at the other end of the flat with mouth agape and face as white as sheet, stood Gussie Fink-Nottle. “Oh dear-” he stammered, stepping backwards awkwardly. “I didn’t mean- I forgot my- good heavens!” he tripped over the cabinet, falling on his back as he scrambled to leave.
Bertie however was so overcome with the shame of being found in such a position that he ripped himself out of Jeeves’ grasp, landing in a pile on the floor. But his valet was quicker and helped him up before making his way over to the scared pup that had wandered into their home. Gussie shuffled across the floor desperately, trying to get away from the large man as he now feared for his own backside.
“Now, now hold on a minute-” he tried, but stopped once he reached the back wall and found no available escape. Jeeves stood above him, reaching a hand down to pull him up to his feet, at the same time shutting the front door. They certainly didn’t need any more visitors popping in for a quick hello and a startling discovery. “You’re not going to-” Gussie tried, sweat pouring from his pale forehead as he stood in place, too afraid to move.
“I wouldn’t dream of it Sir,” he reassured. “It appears that you have stumbled across a rather private matter, if you would be so kind as to refrain from sharing your discovery?”
“Oh,” he stared at Jeeves with wide eyes, looking from him to Bertie and then back again. “Is it- I mean, well- a lover’s quarrel?” His voice became a whisper as he uttered the last words, trying his best to be discreet.
The valet’s eyebrows rose in surprise at such an assumption and he turned to look at his young employer who now stood near the settee, rubbing his sore bum.
“Well don’t look at me, of course it’s not!”
“Perhaps we can dissuade the young gentleman’s curiosity if he were to know the reasoning behind our doings?”
Bertie rolled his eyes, stuffing his dress shirt into his pants and slipping the suspenders back over his shoulders. “Oh very well,” he held a finger up in warning. “But I better not hear anything about this down at the Drones, I’m already down a notch for losing that last game of cards.”
Gussie nodded his head rapidly, too nervous to say otherwise. Jeeves put a hand on the man’s back, trying to lead him further into the apartment as Bertram fixed a place to sit down. Meanwhile the poor newt collector could do nothing but comply, if not a bit hesitantly as he took a seat opposite his friend. But even as he looked across and saw Bertie’s face, that scene wouldn’t stop playing in his mind, it was such an unusual thing to stumble across. Granted it wasn’t completely out of the ordinary, it was rather common-place actually to see an impish young lady over a gent’s knee on occasion, but being taken in hand by one’s own manservant? Odd indeed.
Bertram stared back at him, his face still wet with tears even as he tried to appear peeved off. It didn’t fool Gussie nor the valet standing to the side, they both knew he was of a sensitive nature, especially so after having just been disciplined. But the newt-lover’s mind raced as they sat in silence. If it wasn’t some kind of lover’s spat then what was it, and why hadn’t Bertie sacked his valet for it? He thought of what he might do if his own manservant were to treat him in such a fashion but just blushed at the imagery it provided. Of course Jeeves was wise beyond his years, always had a level head and knew the right answer at every turn. In which case, maybe he was right in smacking his friend, Jeeves was never wrong.
Bertie shifted uncomfortably in his seat, fidgeting like a young boy made to sit in a church pew. “A spot of tea?” He offered, wiping at his face.