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Chapter Text

The first time he sees the new kid is the day he gets his quarter report.

Bertram- Bertie -Wooster is sixteen and some months old when quarter grades come out. The report card is tucked away (neatly, mind you) in the deepest recesses of the Wooster backpack, a navy bookbag with a checkmark logo. Bertie somehow hopes that buried under the textbooks and thingummies, the report might just disappear. He shuts his locker, resigned and solemn, before turning to Tuppy Glossop, a plain sort of youth with a head of hair that foretells a future of baldness

Tuppy looks like he could sneak a drink, or rather, needed to sneak one bally badly. "You look like you could sneak a drink," he was thus informed. 

"Bertie, what do I do?" Tuppy moans, apparently having not heard Bertie's observation. The teen pulls and twists at his tie, which gives him the appearance of someone being choked to death by their school uniform, which is quite the literal metaphor. One day Bertie's going to write a book about a schoolboy who gets murdered by his uniform, as a metaphor for the suffocating school system.

"I'm going to hide my Cs and Ds and Fs with a thingy."

"You mean white-out?"

"That's the thing. That or let Aunt A. ground me for the rest of the year. You'll have to get on without me if that happens."

"But it's only the quarter report right?" Tuppy mumbles, now shoving hands into the pockets of his blazer, his backpack hanging off his spine like some defeated animal, "you think the parents'll be so hard on me?"

"It depends. How English are they? Or are they the American-do-your-best-is-fine sort? You know, Matthew Huang in Econ's never got a B in his life!"

"The bastard!"

"I know!"

Being the sort of boys who have the drive to try and study but without that inherent skill to succeed, they're inclined to enviously hate the types like Matthew Huang- bookish, honor-roll, and obviously un-grounded. But then Richard Little arrives, blond hair in messy stylish tuffs, a lovelight in his eyes, just the friend necessary for a confidence boost. Little's never scored anything higher than a C.

"Bingo, just the guy!" Bertie cries, holding his hand out for one of those secret handshakes he observed on TV. Bingo doesn't follow and they end up awkwardly hugging each other in the middle of the hall. "What's up, Bingo?"

"More Fs than Cs!"

"Terrible!"

"I know!"

Bingo's backpack is a knapsack with the school's T embroidered in its middle. Bertie could always see the shape of a waterbottle from the outside, and sometimes a pencil case or a half-eaten sandwich or some girl's photo, but never, if ever, any books. Bingo's the sort of boy who doesn't complain about bad grades because he never studies, but feels the sting of a good scolding after. And with the threat of summer school looming, Bertie can see why it's bothering him now more than ever. The trio shudders on cue at the thought.

"But guys, there's something else," Bingo sighs and Bertie knows what he'll say before he says it: "I'm in love." I know!

"Is she hot?" Tuppy asks.

"Burning, like that burning-flame goddess- just- she's beautiful. I saw her in chemistry today-"

Bertie doesn't hear the rest of Bingo's newest romance because that's when he sees him. And right off the bat, Bertie knows there's a thingyness about him. In the scattering crowd of students, nearly indiscernible in their Totleigh uniforms, a single dark head catches his eye. The boy is tall, that much Bertie can see, broad shoulders filling up his blazer, a stack of books in his arms, arranged in a perfectly straight line. He can't see much more of the individual, what with all the people moving about, but Bertie assumes there's a decent face there. No, what really catches his eye is the way the boy walks- he doesn't. He shimmers. 

"Who's that guy?" he blurts.

"Who?" his friends ask.

"That one- the one with the book stack. He's got a nice walk."

"Oh!" Bingo says, "I know him- he's the new kid. Came to chem today- I forgot his name, um, Jake or something. I think there's something a little weird about him."

So maybe Jake or whathisname is a little weird. It's not like most students carried their books in a straight line. They don't have a manner like one of those Indian birds either- you know, the ones that swoop and watch, all majestic and enigmatic. Bingo and Tuppy are talking about their respective gs', so Bertie listens and nods and laughs. But his mind is elsewhere, wondering- by a tad- what it'd be like to have the new boy carry his books like that.

X~X

Aunt Agatha is as much like a ravenous witch as Bertie expects. The moment he passes their front doors, the lights dim and she steps out. Bertie can't help but shudder when she stares him down, like the villain from an old western. Her eyes are like ice (and for a moment, Bertie wants to tell her to "let it go~" before deciding she wouldn't be happy with the joke) and her lips an inch from yelling.

"Anything you want to tell me, Bertram?" she asks.

Bertie gulps. The door's already locked behind him. Their halls are dim and empty, the only sound that of the ventilation system and muted surround sound from the living room, where Aunt Agatha was no doubt catching up on her gruesome soaps.

"No, Aunt Agatha," he says.

"I might just send you to summer school if you don't make the marks."

Not that!

"Not that!" he gasps.

"Dahlia's a useless coddler when it comes to you." She's snarling. "If she'd just let me spank you more as a child, you wouldn't be so useless now. So, Bertram, why don't you hand over your report card?"

"I- uh- it hasn't come out yet..."

"I'm the president of your PTA, Bertram. You think I wouldn't know when your grades come out?" She meant it to sting. "And your teachers have quite the lot to say about you and your buddies." And sting it did.

There are tears pricking at his eyeballs. The bally thought of summer school and its endless toils! The sun wasted, wasted in the sky! While he shakes and quivers, Aunt Agatha wraps an arm around his shoulders.

"Man up, Bertram. I could just settle for grounding you, on one condition."

Uh-oh. Bertie wriggles uneasily. Aunt Agath's conditions are never in his favor. She must be smirking. 

"Get a homecoming date."

"Aunt A.!"

"Do you know how embarrassing it is to be in charge of the PTA and have your child not bring a girl to school dances? And just look at you, Bertram- you're a disgrace from head to toe!"

"But Aunt Agatha, this is totally crazy! I mean, bally, crazy! I can't just walk up to someone and say, 'hey, be my date'- that's not me!"

"One condition, Bertram! Now go to your room- you're grounded."

She can't push him around like this. He's going to fight back. Bertie takes his stance and prepares to fire at his aunt.

"Yes, ma'am," he mutters feebly before leaving her grip, slacking under the weight of her satanic gaze. For the first time in his life, Bertie feels like going goth.

X~X

The answer to all of Bertie's problems comes in a magnificent package of tall, dark, and baby blue. 

He'd recognize the thingyness about the new boy anywhere. So that's exactly what happens when Bertie gets to World History II and finds a new face in the front row, in the desk farthest right and closest to the window. The light's shining in trickles and softening the unflappable features of the desk's newest occupant. He's sitting straight, eyes bent over an open book, lashes almost shining in the sun. 

As someone who doesn't like facing the gaze of the teacher, Bertie sits in the desk farthest right- in the very back row, that is. Whistling quietly, he takes the seat behind the new boy. The white board's never been so close. To lessen the awkwardness, Bertie glances at the maps, then the globe, then the face of a confused Gussie two desks down.

Gussie's his best mate in chemistry and algebra. The only reason they don't sit together in History is because of Madeline, though what Gussie sees in her he doesn't know. Half the time, she doesn't even know he exists. Gussie's one of those sad nerdy types, complete with slight hunch and thick glasses (name might as well have been Leonard Hofsdadter!). 

Bertie just waves at him with a grin. It's not like he's doing anything strange... he just wants to be a little closer to the new boy. Now there's a guy you didn't meet each day. Yep, it's a once-in-a-lifetime chance and Bertie's not going to miss it.

He learns the new kid's name when Mr. Plum takes roll, complete with a "oh, you must be the new student" "hope you enjoy this boring little class (laugh)" "and don't slack off" to which the n.k. replied "yes, I am" "I think I will, sir" and "I don't intend to" in (mind you) the most composed, coolest voice Bertie's ever heard.

"Let me get your name again," Mr. Plum says, checking off his clipboard.

"Jeeves, sir."

"I have it now, R-. Okay, moving on."

After roll call is the usual class routine: a warm-up drill and some notes on the board, Plum's backside facing everyone. There's really nothing special about it if anything ever specialized. But it teaches Bertie something: the new boy- Jeeves- is smart. Really smart. Jeeves' hand might as well have stayed in the air nonstop because he's the only one who has the answer to every question. He knows all the capitals and nations and Louises and Tudors and Stewarts and de Leons and Genjis and the exact degrees of every long and lat-itude. Bertie thinks he knows more trivia than Mr. Plum. 

He's also the only one who knows where Kyrgyzstan is. Bertie thinks that's pretty impressive. And maybe a little dangerous- being too smart is like flashing a bright, red "geek" sign to attract the likes of disagreeable people like r.s. Bertie doesn't want to like Jeeves; it wouldn't make sense if he did, given his predisposition towards students like Matthew H. but something inside tells Bertie to risk the bars of school society and break the habit for Jeeves. 

When the bell rings, chaos breaks out. They have fifteen minutes to scramble to the lockers, run to the washrooms, and dash on over to period 3. Bertie usually breaks for the vending machines- nothing worse than algebra on an empty stomach!- but he has another task now. He puts on his friendliest grin, which in hindsight, is his only grin, and taps Jeeves (what a name!) on the shoulder.

"Yes?"

Jeeves is still collecting his books when he turns. Bertie notices that his nose is a little crooked and that they have the same eyes- well, not the same eyes since they're different people with separate heads. They both have blue eyes is what he means, a baby blue. Except Bertie thinks Jeeves' eyes are a cooler shade; he doesn't really have an explanation, other than the fact that Jeeves is just that cool.

"I'm Bertram Wooster. You're Jeeves, right?" Of course, Bertie knows he's Jeeves but it's important to play it subtle.

"I am." Okay, so he's not very talkative.

"You were awesome today. I don't think anyone in Mr. Plum's class knows as much as you. You must have a big brain."

"My mother told me my skull protrudes at the back."

"Cool! Can I see?"

And before Jeeves can respond, Bertie is behind him, peering at the back of his head. It really did bulge- Bertie thinks that's impressive. "Hey, Jeeves, what maths are you taking? I'm in Algebra and it's bally infuriating if you get my drift- it really sucks."

"I'm in calculus."

"Cool! Stiffy's in that- Stephanie, I mean. She's my friend. Not girlfriend, um, forget I said that." And Bertie laughs because he doesn't know what else to say. He doesn't want to make Jeeves late, but they're making such progress. Bertie has smart friends, but none of them strike him the way Jeeves does, and maybe it's because he's so impressed with that brain or because he's so desperate for help that he sees the new boy as a genie, that he makes his next move.

"I know we just met and stuff. But do you think it'd be okay if you helped me a bit? You know, with homework and exams and thingummies like that."

Jeeves pushes in his chair. He raises his eyebrow by an eighth of an inch- Bertie doesn't know what that means, but it must be impressive. "As in, a tutor?" Jeeves asks.

"Or a study buddy. Anything goes."

"Okay." When other people say OK, it sounds like OK. When Jeeves says OK, it sounds like  "very well, sir."

"Great!" Bertie playfully slaps his new friend on the shoulder, but all it does is confuse Jeeves. A little sheepish, Bertie flashes another Wooster smile. "Great, I'll see you around, Jeeves! Later!"

Bertie snatches his own things up and zips out of the classroom, some papers and whatnots falling out of his backpack. He's not sure what Jeeves will do next but Bertie knows he's going to be late to algebra unless he hurries. It doesn't help that his textbook's still in the locker. One staircase and two hallways later, he's in his own row of mint lockers... and so is Gussie, who should have left ten minutes ago.

Bertie sidles towards his own locker and sees what's holding Gussie up. The boy's pinned to the lockers, a far larger figure holding his arms and head, ready to snap and break him any second now. Roderick Spode's all muscle and meanness and he means to get a message across. 

"You stay away from her," Spode spits (quite literally, when a wad falls on Gussie's mushed hair), in his very intimidating way.

"Hey, let him go!" Bertie says impulsively before he can clamp his own mouth shut. Spode's bullish gaze falls on him. "Stay out of this, Wooster! Just looking at you pisses me off!"

"Okay, okay, I'll stay away!" Gussie says against the physical and verbal threats.

He's a trembling mess when Spode, who's almost eighteen, lets him go. He clenches his fists and walks past Bertie, taking the time to shove the other boy roughly in the chest. Bertie hits the wall of his locker with his back.

"What did he want?" Bertie asks when Spode's gone, helping Gussie to his feet, the latter's glasses crooked.

"He likes Madeline." 

"We all know that."

Gussie grins like a dope. "But he's worried about her and me. You know what that means, Bertie? I've got a chance now."

"Just let them have each other, man!"

Gussie shakes his head. "Oh, you just don't understand the heartache, Bertie."

"Next time r.s beats you to a jelly you'll understand," Bertie chides with a scoff. And he meant it to sting.

Except it doesn't sting Gussie. "It's a sacrifice I have to make!" And Bertie still doesn't understand the crushes his friends have. It's not like he's ever had one.

X~X

But the real zinger in Bertie's deliverance happens over the weekend. He's got a pile of unfinished homework in his bag when he stops by McDonald's, careful not to stare at that creepy clown. Aunt Agatha (after not so politely reminding him of finding a dance date) needed him to run a few errands for her and run, he did- take the dog to get washed, return her gucci shoes and get the receipt, buy some organic eggs, and the like. He's been at it all morning and needs to take his lunch.

"Can I take your order, sir?"

Bertie's sure his jaw dropped at the register. Behind it is a face he would never forget. Even out of uniform, Jeeves looks more immaculate and above-it-all than everyone around him, even if said uniform's been replaced by a red and yellow hat. 

"Uh- meal seven. Big fries. And throw in a large coke, will you?"

"Of course." Jeeves rings the order and Bertie's not sure if he's recognized or not. The name tag says "Jeeves" so Bertie knows he can't be mistaken.

"It's me, Bertram," he says.

"Yes, I know."

There's a rummy little something in Jeeves' eyes when he says that. It's barely there but enough for Bertie to catch- a little something like a toddler being caught in the act of stealing cookies, that's the mark. And then it dawns on Bertie that Jeeves is embarrassed.

"I like your hat," he says, trying to lighten the mood as the receipt prints.

Jeeves practically freezes, like Bertie had just insulted his ancestors' grave and spat on it. Bertie doesn't know why. He thinks Jeeves can even make a McD hat look cool. Maybe Jeeves doesn't think so. 

"Must be interesting to work here. Awfully interesting," Bertie says, taking his receipt and awkwardly standing to the side, no other customers at the register yet, "I couldn't though. If Aunt A. knew I was here now, she'd burst a vein. Wait, why are you here? A project?"

"I need the money," is all Jeeves says.

Now Bertie freezes. It dawns on him that Jeeves is a rare type at Totleigh. You don't just go to Totleigh without the right cash in the back- what with the uniforms and shiny walls. There are scholarships, a few, he knows, but he never knew people actually used them. For more than half his classmates, it's unthinkable to not ride first class in an airplane. To say something like "I need the money" is a bally big confession.

"Do you like your hat?" Bertie asks.

"It's... wanting," Jeeves replies, that bit of deflation in his eyes again. So he'd to anything to get out of the r. and y. hat then. The Wooster noggin spins.

"Bertram," Jeeves says- and Bertram, for once in Bertie's life, sounds regal- handing over his food on a tray, placing more napkins and ketchup packages on it than necessary, "if you don't wish to associate with me after this, I understand."

"Well, you're being awfully shallow about me! I don't care if you don't like your McD. hat," Bertie huffs. He takes the tray. "Actually, I've got a solution for both of us. I mean, they can't pay you that much here anyway."

"How do you mean?"

Bertie grins, one of those between-you-and-me special grins. "You said you'd be my study buddy. Maybe we can boost it up a bit- make you my tutor, my homework guide, my gradesaver gentleman or something along those lines. And I'll pay you more than they do here." Bertie winks.

At first, Jeeves doesn't breathe. Then he does and it's such an elegant motion that Bertie winks again. An amused almost-smile pulls at the cashier's lips. "If the offer stands, I wouldn't mind it at all."

X~X

When Jeeves starts working for Bertie, everything gets a little surreal. For starters, Bertie's disarrayed locker looks different when he opens it in the morning. The inside is free of dirt, his gym clothes are folded, and his books are in neat stacks. There's a sticky note inside: Bertram, I have taken the liberty to clean your locker. Forgive me for hacking in (and for future reference, you should lock it).

Bertie thinks that's pretty good advice. Heaven forbid someone sneak a girl's picture inside! Still marveling at Jeeves' handiwork, he takes out his vibrating phone and slides it open. He has three new texts. Two from Bingo. And one from- damn it.

Bingo: bertie! u there?

Bingo: tp says honoria's looking fr u :O

Honoria: bertie! u have any plans for homecoming? 

Honoria's the closest thing he's ever had to a girlfriend. He was trying to match her with Bingo Freshman year, but things didn't go to plan and swoop, suddenly the whole school thinks B. Wooster is H. Glossop's. She's a fit, well-toned girl- leader of the marching band too and school kickboxing champion. Bertie knows he's been avoiding her since last summer but he would have thought she'd be over him by now. 

Bingo: i think she might beat u up

Bertie: thx >:

Bingo: u should ask her out frst maybe she'll spare u

Bertie: TT

"Good morning, Bertram."

Bertie starts. Jeeves materializes beside him (impressive!), hands behind his back, perfect hair and posture and all. And since there's no one he really knows around yet, Bertie thinks it's fine to pour all his woes out to Jeeves, and such a tale involves flashing the phone in front of Jeeves' face several times.

"Here," Jeeves says at last, eyebrows doing their minor lifting. He takes the phone from Bertie and types, quick and agile. The phone's back in Bertie's hands as soon as it's left.

Bertie: It bally sucks, but I've got to hang out with my uncle that day he doesn't usually visit so it's a big deal

Honoria: aww that's too bad :( Lemme kno if anything changes ;)

And just like that, the problem is solved. Bertie stares at Jeeves in astonishment, the latter taking the liberty to remove Bertie's Economics textbooks.

"Jeeves, how did you know I have an uncle?"

"I assumed you would have one. And if not, it's not uncommon for distant relatives to stop by now and then." 

"But Jeeves! This is bloody awesome- you've just saved my life from so many unpleasant things!" 

"I try to satisfy, Bertram. Now, should we go to Economics with Mrs. Crabshaw?"

"I thought you didn't take Econ."

"I don't. I only mean to carry your books there."

"Oh.. uh... okay."

Bertie's paying him, after all. So the day starts with Bertie out of the soup and into the halls, with Jeeves faithfully carrying his books behind him. And to Bertie's pleasure, they are in a straight stack. When he gets to class, Bingo's staring at them with pretty wide eyes. Bertie takes his seat, dropping his backpack on the side, while Jeeves lays his books out for him. He flips the thickest one open and lo and behold- a clean sheet of loose leaf paper with numbers and answers scrawled in perfect Wooster handwriting. Except Bertie knows he didn't do his Econ assignment.

"Jeeves, did you-"

"I did promise to be a gentleman's gradesaver."

And with that, Jeeves takes his leave, shimmering out just as majestically as he came in. Bertie's still in shock when Bingo prods him for answers.

"Whoa- you're friends with Jake now?"

"His name's Jeeves. And yes, we're pretty good pals now."

"How'd you do it, Bertie? He was carrying your books and he's a junior!"

"To be honest, I don't know. That's just his way, I guess."

"What's he like?"

"He's cool."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Oh! Honoria's got a new date now. You sure you don't regret it, Bertie?"

"Not at all. Hey, keep this between you and me- but Jeeves did the most awesome thing for me-" And in this manner, Econ passes. Bertie finds his resentment for Matthew H. dwindling tad by tad, maybe because the smart types remind him of Jeeves now, rather than the other way around. 

When the bell rings again, Bertie and Bingo scoop up their things and leave, Mrs. Crabshaw eyeing Bertie in disbelief because it's the first time he's had all the right answers. They barely make it out of the classroom when Jeeves materializes again, this time with Bertie's history textbook in his arms, balanced perfectly like a tray of champagne. Bertie assumes Jeeves' own books are in his backpack, a black logo-less thing by the way.

"Wait for me, Jeeves. It'll just be a sec- got to get my notebook-"

"No need, Bertram. It's all right here." And lo and behold, they were all right there- Bertie's binder, folder, notebook- above the thick textbook. "And I took the time to lock your locker."

"Oh- oh, thanks, man."

When they get to World History, Bertie sits behind Jeeves again, and this time, when Jeeves lays out all his things, people stare. Madeline's positively ogling them from the center and Chuffy's eyes are glued on them from the left. Bertie doesn't know why- it's not that bizarre for a friend to help another friend do things. Class passes by pretty fast again, Mr. Plum lecturing away. Bertie doesn't catch most of the notes. Mr. Plum doesn't call on Jeeves at all this class, on account of no one having the chance to say anything if Jeeves just gives everything away. Bertie thinks that's unfair.

When the bell rings, Jeeves switches notebooks with Bertie. Instead of his own half-blank half-doodles of words, Bertie now has a perfect set of study material: timelines, creepily accurate maps, cursive that's so neat and straight that it might as well have come out of a computer, and an index to boot.

When they leave the classroom, Bertie goes to the bathroom. When he comes out, Jeeves is already there with his Algebra things. Jeeves walks him to Algebra too and lays out the books before taking his super cool leave. And again, people stare.

"I didn't know you were friends with him, Bertie," Emerald, a plainish friend, says, a little confused.

"We get along great now."

"But he's only been here a few days."

"So what? Have I ever been a bad judge of character?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Uh-uh. Bertram's got the sharp eyes, and they tell me this is a friend I won't regret."

"If you say so. Jeeves was in my chem class, though. He won't even tell us his first name. I hope you won't think I'm shallow, but that makes me think he's a little... strange."

"Pfft. People think I'm strange, but once they get to know me? Nah."

"I don't know about that... Oh well, oh! Bertie, do you know if- if Gussie's thinking about homecoming?"

"I think he's short a few screws- he actually thinks he has a chance with Madeline Bassett!"

Emerald spends class a little deflated after that, though Bertie can't tell why. But then he's swept again by Jeeves, who arrives no later than a minute after the bell rings to take his books. It's his lunch hour so Bertie's usually in a rush to get to the cafeteria. Today, he gets to take a leisurely stroll.

"I'll return these to your locker, Bertram. And we can meet there after lunch."

"Thanks, Jeeves! Yeah, yeah, sounds like a plan. Really corking!"

So thanks to Jeeves, Bertie gets to the cafeteria ten minutes early, gets the first pick of hot sandwiches, doesn't wait in line to fill his soda, and has the time to hum while he takes his good time to their usual table. He's there before Tuppy, Bingo, Gussie, and Chuffy. It feels pretty awesome. T. and B. come in next, along with the savage crowd of hungry Totleighnese. There's a hot dog in Bingo's mouth when he sits by Bertie.

"mm-'dyou geehere so fmmast?"

"I had some help," Bertie answers, sipping his drink. He expects Tuppy to ask the same thing, but the other boy just looks horrified.

"What's wrong, man?" Bingo asks, swallowing the portion in his mouth. Tuppy just gasps, placing hands on his heart, like he's about to get a heart attack. He's pale and sweating too. 

"Chuffy- look, look!" Tuppy manages to spark.

Bertie looks where Tuppy stares- Chuffy, tall, honest Chuffy is walking about the cafeteria, Pauline Stoker on his arms. She's radiant. Bertie's never seen her happier in his life and that's not counting all the times he made her laugh last year. 

"They look happy," he informs Tuppy.

"I can't believe this," Tuppy practically sobs, "my Pauline."

"Looks like she's Chuffy's Pauline now," Bingo says sadly, "all is fair in love and war."

"I didn't know you read 'War and Peace,'" Bertie tells him.

"War and what?"

"Nevermind."

To be frank, Bertie doesn't quite get Tuppy's pain- he's sure it must hurt to have one's own friend steal one's crush, but is it really worth all that pain? Bertie's licking the crumbs from his lips as he ponders this. Unlike Tuppy, Bertie has real problems, like how he's going to get out of Homecoming. He waves at Chuffy when the couple passes them- Pauline waves back with a wink, but Chuffy just looks away, a dash of rightful guilt in his eyes. 

After hours (it feels like hours anyway, even though lunch is only for one hour) of listening to Tuppy moan and Bingo bragging about his new love's sparkling eyes, Bertie breaks from the gang and finds his way back to the lockers. Jeeves is already there, ready to take Bertie to English, a rare subject that Bertie is actually good at- all As in this one for Bertram.

"Hey, Jeeves, if person A and person B were friends, but person A was in love with a girl. And person B started dating this girl, what should person A do?"

"In this case, person A should move on."

Bertie's glad someone agrees with him. "Then, as a mutual of A and B, what should person C do?"

"Since person C has nothing to do with the conflict, I suggest he stays out of it."

"Right, right, good idea."

Then Bertie falls silent, watching as Jeeves reaches into his locker for the three English books- two texts and one novel. Maybe he should increase Jeeves' s. given how much extra service the other boy was giving him, in addition to taking his notes and doing his homework. Thanks to Jeeves, Bertie might actually be able to pull up the g. Then he's distracted by another thought, something Emerald said to him.

"I say- I mean, hey," Bertie says, "Jeeves, what's your name?"

"You know my name."

"No, I mean, your name, your Christian name, what you were born with, what you were dubbed- what's the word- your first name, what's your first name?"

"Oh. My name is Reginald."

That surprises Bertie. He doesn't peg Jeeves as a Reginald- Reginald just doesn't seem a c. enough name for someone like Jeeves. He decides to amend the situation.

"So if your name's Reginald, does that mean I can call you RJ?"

"No."

Well, that settles that.

X~X

There's a change in Jeeves' schedule the next day because he's dropped calculus I for calculus II and added AP Biology to his schedule. Which means he's now in Bertie's musical theory and gym classes. And he couldn't have come at a better time, in Bertie's opinion.

Pauline and Honoria are both in Bertie's music period and he doesn't want anyone to get the wrong idea. It doesn't help that Pauline just loves to sit cross-legged behind him, skirt brushing his legs. She laughs at everything he says (and he doesn't think he's being funny) and more than once, Mr. King's told him to "quit the flirting, Bertram." Not to mention a few angry facebook messages from Chuffy.

Chuffy: Lay off her, Bertie.

Bertie: ??

Chuffy: I'm warning you, man.

And when he tries to "blow off" Pauline, so to speak, she pouts and asks him why he won't be her friend. He's sure she doesn't mean anything by what she does- the Wooster code won't let him go around accusing people. But Pauline is nothing compared to the problem in Honoria. He hears she's going with Stilton to the dance, but neither are too happy about it. So she takes it all out on Bertie.

She wrinkles his worksheets when she collects for Mr. King, she won't let him in when he arrives late, she badgers and badgers him on his piano skills. In fact, she's taken to "tutoring" him herself, obviously brushing her fingers against his when they play, breath a little too close to his for comfort. He always ends up smelling like her perfume when he leaves class. Not to mention the alarming instagram hashtags on her profile.

#Bertie #Miss you #I could make you great #Mentally #And physically  #you wuss

So when Jeeves informs him that they're now classmates in musical theory, Bertie doesn't hesitate to all but physically glue himself to the other boy's side when they take their seats by the keyboards. It turns out Jeeves can read the notes just fine and he's even better at keeping count than Bertie. This is important because it means he can also complete Bertie's theory assignments for him.

"Hey Bertie," Pauline greets when she waltzes in, pencil case in hand, "who's your friend?"

And since Bertie's already next to Jeeves, who possesses a very solid figure, on the bench, Pauline has no choice but to sit a good few feet away from Bertie. It doesn't affect her but it means the world to Bertie. 

"This is Jeeves," Bertie tells her with a grin, and right on cue, Jeeves ventures a nod.

"I'm Pauline," she says, "you're the new kid, right?"

"A pleasure," Jeeves says with that polite almost-smile he's so fond of. "I'm what the facility would consider a newcomer for the time being."

Pauline laughs- if butterflies could laugh, they'd probably sound like her. "You're funny. I like that- you and Bertie would be the cutest." Bertie assumes she's referring to this own tendencies to accidentally make her laugh (since Jeeves was clearly not being funny).

When Honoria comes in, she gives Jeeves the stink-eye and Jeeves, being Jeeves, completely ignores it. Bertie, however, feels triumphant in having found an ally to hide behind. When Mr. King makes them start their piano practice, Honoria's still glaring daggers at the duo. At the same time, Jeeves puts the headphones over Bertie's head, to which he receives a "thanks, man!" Wouldn't want to bother everyone else with their piano playing, that and Mr. King still hasn't forgiven Bertie for that time he refused to plug in his headphones and filled the room with an hour of noise (pleasant noise, though).

"Your form's all wrong, Bertie," Honoria says from her spot across from them, sharp and bitter. She's about to take off her own headphones and march over, inducing a bout of clammy palms and sweat on the Wooster body, when Jeeves lifts a calm head.

"Ah, I can manage this," he tells her politely before placing his own hands on Bertie's. "Bertram, straighten the fingers- keep the tips down. There we are."

And Bertie plays. Even when Jeeves moves his hands back to where they were, Bertie still feels the tingle of warmth on his own skin, as if he too is now smoother and more delicate thanks to Jeeves. Honoria might be seething across from them, but Bertie couldn't be happier. He exchanges a beam with Jeeves before the two go back to their duet, the first improvised duet Bertie's ever taken part in. 

Musical theory is successful in Bertie's opinion, but Jeeves' magic happens to extend to gym as well, which happens to be (mind you) Bertie's most hated class. He has the luck to share that period with Spode, Stilton, and Florence Craye. Of course there's Gussie but between himself and the newt lover, they never stood much of a chance against the S. & S. Coach Bramsky is also a little too mean and stern for Bertie's tastes.

"C. Bramsky's a little too mean and stern for my tastes," Bertie tells Jeeves when they get to the locker room.

Gussie's already there, scrawny and topless, pulling up his baggy gym shorts. By the time he wriggles into his shirt, Bertie's tossed all his own clothes off. He's a little more fit than Gussie, still toward the lean, willowy side of things, but he still has the look of someone who can throw and run. 

"Gussie, what's up?" Bertie greets.

"I think Madeline's seriously thinking about... her and me. Oh Bertie, it's like a dream come true."

Well, better it be Gussie and not Bertie. He's not sure what he's done, but by the end of Freshman year, most of his grade thought B. Wooster harbored a burning crush on M. Bassett, promising cheerleader, daughter of the headmaster, and easily one of, if not the, hottest girls at Totleigh. Rumor even has it M. Bassett actually considered hooking up with B. Wooster. Bertie shudders at the memories- all the rumors, the threats from Spode, and the like.

"Bertram, I've taken the liberty to fold your clothes," Jeeves says.

Impressive! Bertie's uniform is neatly tucked away in his gym bag, now neatly placed in his gym locker. Gussie stares at the exchange, as if piecing two and two together. "Jeeves, is Bertie paying you or something?" he asks.

"Yes, he is. We've come to a very pleasing agreement."

Bertie laughs. "A bally awesome agreement!"

Jeeves turns around to change his own clothing when more figures exit and enter the room. Gussie groans under his breath at the sight of an approaching mass of muscle: Spode. And with Spode are his chums, namely Stilton and between the two of them, Bertie feels like this room's increased in titans. Spode and co. decide to corner Gussie and since Bertie's standing next to him, he gets cornered too. Bally unfair.

"What's up, Spode?" Bertie says with a smile.

His friendly greeting is met with a harsh push towards the wall. His gym shirt's still clutched in his hand, but it feels awkward to put it on in front of Spode and co. Something tells him it's below his dignity to do that. 

"If you even think about Florence again, Wooster," Stilton says, "I'll- I'll snap your spine in three places!"

"Whoa!"

At that, Stilton pushes him again. Beside him, Gussie's being lifted by the collar and threatened with a variety of swirlies and wedgies. Maybe Gussie thinks he has a chance with Madeline, but Spode certainly doesn't think so.

"Now listen, Stilton, this is just one big misunderstanding," Bertie says, "there's nothing between me and Florence. You should bally know! I can't stand her- so conniving and ready to take advantage- it's not nice!"

"Don't you dare talk that way about her!" And Stilton's meaty hand is about to club Bertie in the skull when Jeeves comes in between, deflecting the blow with his own hand.

"If you keep this up, we'll all be late for class. Please desist," Jeeves quips, calm, slow, and cold.

His gaze travels from Stilton to Spode, who's let go of Gussie in his surprise. S. and S. are gigantic, but Bertie knows Jeeves is tall too, and he's never looked taller to Bertie. It's then that he notices Jeeves' shirt hasn't been put on yet either- his bare top is toned and firm, not as mountainous as the aforementioned S & S, but enough to give anyone pause. Where Spode gives Bertie the impression of a wrestler on steroids, Jeeves gives him the impression of a cross between a professional swimmer and a viking's portrait. 

"You're the new bloke," Spode says, recognizing his fellow junior, "the weirdo. Well, let me tell you, weirdo, you don't want to mess with me."

If it's meant to be a threat, Jeeves stays unaffected. All he does is raise those brows. And it's enough to piss Spode off. But Jeeves must be suicidal because he then says: "I assure you, Roderick, you wouldn't want to cross me either." Holy Jove!

"Oh my-" Gussie mouths, stunned, floored, and silenced by this audacity. 

For at least ten minutes- it felt like ten minutes anyway- S & S size Jeeves up, all three exchanging cold gazes, like something out of an old western (which Bertie realizes he's quite fond of). Spode just looks angry and affronted. Stilton's staring at Jeeves like a frenzied lion sniffing a pack of raw, bleeding meat, like he would literally eat and rip the other boy apart if he could. But Jeeves must have intimidated them too because nothing happens.

"Come on, Stilton. Weirdo's right- we'll be late."

Spode leaves with a final glare, giving Gussie one last shove. Stilton decides to take the same exit, but when he pushes Jeeves, the latter doesn't budge at all. At all. And then the rest of their co. follow them to the next row of lockers, as off-put and confused as their leader. And in that span of time, Jeeves pulls on his shirt. As Bertie does the same, he struggles to clap Jeeves on the back.

"Wow! Wow! I never thought I'd see the day- Jeeves, that was bloody amazing!" Bloody awesome. So bally cool. 

"Yeah, you really showed him, I bet," Gussie adds, also not too sure what just happened, "but he means it, you know? You're on his blacklist now."

"It doesn't trouble me," is all Jeeves says. Bally cool.

When they actually get to class, Jeeves is no less c. Bertie's still not sure if they're playing football or rugby or some sport of C. Bramsky's invention (which might explain his low effort grade in gym), but it does involve the violent tossing of a narrow yet heavy ball. It's impressive in Bertie's eyes because not only was the ball not meant for Jeeves, it was thrown, or rather catapulted  with the might of an angry bird, by none other than Stilton.

Florence got it into her head that Bertie's health is less important than her attempts to be a social butterfly. "I'll be watching you, Bertie Wooster," she says when the girls pass the incoming group on the grassy field, her hair smooth and billowing, eyes sparkling with devious seductive mirth. And then she blows him a kiss that feels like a fatal bullet.

"Thank you, cousin!" Bertie calls back. She's his cousin and if the incest factor doesn't deter the others from making assumptions, he doesn't know what will. Besides, she's a year above him and just because he made the mistake of hanging out with her so much last year doesn't mean he harbors romantic feelings towards a family member! He's quite sure Florence just uses him to gain the eye of which ever boy (or girl, at times) she's actually interested in. 

Of course, S. Cheesewright is too thick to notice all of that. So when the football-rugby hybrid exercises begin, he puts his brute strength to the test and aims a lethal blow at poor Bertram. Bertie's quite sure that ball had the ability to pierce through his body, leaving a trail of blood and entrails in its wake. But it doesn't.

Jeeves' hand swoops in just in time to stay the ball, fingers closing around that oversized bullet like it's nothing at all. And it's only an inch from Bertie's forehead. Stilton stares, rather speechless, and C. Bramsky's bearded jaw drops. Jeeves stares blankly at Stilton before throwing the ball back at him- it breezes straight into the other boy's hand. And there's hardly a drop of sweat from Jeeves.

But before Bertie can give Jeeves a manly clap and thank-you on the back, C. Bramsky's holding the junior by the shoulders and shouting compliments that sound more like insults at him. 

"Ever think about joining the team, Reeves!?"

"My name is Jeeves. And... uh, no, sir. It hasn't occurred to-"

"No? No? You gonna pass that arm up!?"

"Sir-"

"I haven't seen someone that good since 1979!"

"Thank you, sir."

"You think about it , Teeves! You think about it, you hear!?"

"My name is Jeeves. I... I will. Thank you, sir."

And since Jeeves is preoccupied, Bertie casts a smug glance at Stilton and Spode from his side of the field. No doubt it must irk them to hear their coach praise their new enemy so much.

X~X

Despite having seen Jeeves in a McD. hat, walked with him to and from classes, and having faced off the dreaded S & S together, Bertie doesn't really know know Jeeves until a wet Thursday afternoon. Aunt Agatha insists Bertie walk home from school, no matter the weather, because it supposedly builds character. It did for her biological son, at least, though Bertie's not sure about that.

The rain is sloshing and pattering in heavy patterns outside. Bertie can hear the thunder and extreme drizzling from his place by the lockers. It's a little like the day before Noah's ark set sail. Tuppy and Bingo are long gone, so that hinders his chance at scoring a ride with either of them. He curses Rocky for making him stay after for that stupid drama club of his. Bertie remembers snoring for an hour during all that bad acting. 

For some reason, it hadn't occurred to him to just say no. But a Wooster man never lets his friends down, however distant that friend may be. So now he's gathering his books and hastily placing them in his backpack, not sure how he'll avoid dying in the rainfall. 

"Bertram?"

Bertie jumps, spinning to see Jeeves, who's just materialized behind him. 

"Scared the beetles out of me!" Bertie informs him, "I thought you'd gone home."

"The chess club was more exciting than I'd anticipated. But the main source of my delay was Coach Bramsky."

"I tried my hand at chess once. It really was very exciting, but it's hard, like super hard- I don't think I've ever won, except maybe against Bingo- wait! Coach Bramsky- you're joining the rugby team, then?"

Jeeves wordlessly takes Bertie's backpack into his own hands and swings it over one shoulder. "I believe football season is approaching. I harbor no particular love for the sport, but team membership does come with a promising scholarship."

"I thought you already had one of those."

"Given my expenses, it would be wise to collect more. I need to think about university prospects too, Bertram."

"Let's just drop the whole thing, then. I can't handle worrying about uni now."

Bertie notices that by then, they've both gotten quite close to the school entrance, or the exit, in this case. Jeeves fiddles with a black umbrella- a lifesaver! 

"It's raining quite hard. Would you mind my increased proximity to you, Bertram?"

"Of course not! I'd love it- I mean, that'd be fine. Bertram does love proximity."

Jeeves smiles his not-smile. He opens the door and lets the umbrella fan out, Bertie ducking under it. They leave the school behind, careful of the wet stone steps that lead onto the equally wet sidewalk. The rain continues to pour and their shoes are quickly soaked. 

"You don't think we'll get athlete's foot, do you, Jeeves?"

"Not if you dry your feet quick enough, Bertram."

"Hey, do you know where I live?"

"No, I'm afraid you'll have to guide me."

"Sure!"

It gets harder to hear one another the more they walk. A car zooms by on the street, and Bertie narrowly avoids getting splashed by mud when Jeeves pulls him back. He's not sure if he really loves proximity- he's had his fair share of uncomfortable closeness to his friends and not-friends. But it feels a little different now, a little livelier? He isn't sure. Jeeves is only a few inches behind him and Bertie is securely within the taller boy's grasp. He swears he can feel the warmth from the other body radiating a little towards him. 

"Bertram," Jeeves says softly as they round another corner, "if you'd like, I could practice chess with you."

It takes Bertie by surprise that Jeeves remembers. No one's ever really commented (or remembered or even liked, come to think of it) his side-tracking anecdotes before. A beam breaks across his face.

"I'd like that a lot."

The rain leaves him cold, but Bertie feels quite warm with Jeeves. 

"Would you like to come in, when we get home, my home that is?" Bertie asks, "we could hang out a bit." 

"I shouldn't impose. That and I live some distance from you."

"Oh..." Bertie's dejection shows on his face. Jeeves immediately adds, "Perhaps another time."

"Promise, man?"

"I give you my word."

Aunt A's gated community comes into view by then. Bertie laughs for no reason in particular. Maybe it's the thought of getting good at chess or getting to show his room to Jeeves or the fact that he won't be going home weather-beaten as Aunt Agatha expected. 

"Thanks for, you know. You're a bally good friend, Jeeves."

That catches the boy by surprise. Jeeves opens his mouth to speak but the words come later than usual. "Likewise, Bertram."

Then it occurs to Bertie that he probably knows more about Jeeves than anyone else in the whole school. And that thought warms him inside all over again.

X~X

Bertie's still grounded when Stiffy holds her party and invites all the popular and mediocre-popular kids; Bertie's at the cusp of the latter but he can't go. He knows that Bingo's going to help sneak Gussie in since Madeline will be there and that Tuppy plans to confess his love for Pauline right in front of Chuffy. Bingo's told Bertie to keep an eye on his facebook and instagram and twitter. It's going to be a bally disaster, he bets.

Bertie's rolling on his bed, reviewing the notes Jeeves left for him. For once, the information is a lot easier to process. But also boring. There's a party going on Saturday night and Bertie is stuck at home, thanks to Aunt A. Aunt Dahlia would never do that to him.

Sighing, he pulls out his phone. Madeline's instagram has her winking and baring an impressive midriff, Spode grinning with a hand on her shoulder. #Preparty #dad not home

Bingo's is a load of selfies and pictures of himself with several different girls. There's one with a gloomy Goth and a particularly lovestruck Bingo. Tuppy's facebook status is "Fight for love." Bertie notices that he and Chuffy are no longer facebook friends. Speaking of Chuffy, he's wearing a "Marmaduke" sweater to Stiffy's party. Then there's a load of photos involving Stiffy's hellhound.

So far, nothing disastrous has happened yet. It actually looks kind of fun. Scowling, Bertie pulls up his phone contacts. Reginald Jeeves is there. Bertie knows he's not at the party, not being the type and not being invited anyway. So Bertie ventures a text.

Bertie: RJ?

Bertie: RJ?

Bertie: It's me, bertram

Bertie: RJ?

Bertie: Jeeves?

Reginald: Yes, Bertram?

Bertie chuckles. So his nickname still has no ground. But he's never texted someone like Jeeves before and it makes him feel irrationally giddy.

Bertie: what r u up to?

Reginald: I am editing my personal statement.

Bertie: i'm studying ur notes

Reginald: That's very good, Bertram.

Bertie: hey, what if u help me study? do that tutoring thing?

Reginald: It would be my pleasure.

Bertie: Cool!

Bertie: hey, mind if I ask something stupid?

Bertie doesn't wait for the response. He goes ahead and types out his dilemma as fast as his fingers allow. He spills the whole plan to Jeeves, about Gussie and Madeline and Spode and Chuffy and Tuppy and being grounded and bored. Bertie feels responsible for the other shenanigans somehow, a little worried about what's to come. He also feels left out, outcasted without being outcasted.

Bertie:  I'm worried about what's to come. I also feel left out, outcasted without being outcasted.

Reginald: Don't fret, Bertram. I think it best that you stay out of this. Given the social pressures present, Madeline will not accept Gussie. Perhaps that will finally deter him from seeking her company. It also leaves you blameless.

Bertie: but what abt Gussie?

Reginald: It's out of your control.

Bertie: aww. but what abt chuffy and tp?

Reginald: I predict they will get embroiled in a fistfight. Chuffy, in a fit of masculine dominance, will triumph, and Tuppy will leave with a bruised ego. No doubt your friends will spend a good week or two as the humiliated in school. But like all things, it should blow over.

Bertie wonders what's wrong with Jeeves' fingers because he types all that really friggin' fast. Jeeves' words don't do much to comfort Bertie, but at least it will blow over and Bertie won't be caught in the middle (he thinks). A facebook notification from Rocky shows the boy looking stoned as all hell. Bertie's tried their pot once and nearly died from it. Terrible stuff. He lets Jeeves know about this and the latter approves of this healthy lifestyle. That sends Bertie smiling again.

It's a good three hours later before Jeeves says he has to get back to his studies. Bertie's spent all that time texting him about poetry and Shakespeare, and that cool poem from Ovid that Bertie has no one else to discuss with. Bertie still feels dumb next to Jeeves, even texting, but something about them clicks. It just feels right and Bertie just knows he's not wrong to trust Jeeves with the going-ons of his life.

X~X

Jeeves' predictions about Stiffy's party come true. The next week passes by rather sourly. Instagram is exploding with pictures of Spode socking Gussie in the jaw (#Spode going hulk #nerd attack), facebook is filled with passive-aggressive posts (Chuffy: When you think someone's your friend, and they turn out to suck so hard), and there are whispers down every hall. Drama club is canceled that week because Rocky's drug problem was busted by Mr. Bassett and now he's grounded. Bingo's taken to an emo fringe and black highlights, no doubt to impress that sullen goth he met.

Bingo's false moroseness aside, everyone else is fairly unhappy. Gussie broods and mutters to himself, a shiner under his eye. Spode and Stilton are angrier and cockier than ever- which means Bertie's been shoved against more lockers than he can count. Emerald's giving Pauline the silent treatment, Chuffy and Tuppy are officially not friends, and Madeline's giving Spode a cold shoulder, which all ties back to Gussie. All the other junkies at school were also busted at the party. And since Bertie never went, Aunt A. can now boast about his model behavior at the next PTA meeting.

"What's up, guys?" Bertie asks, taking his seat at lunch.

"I don't know. There's not much to life," Bingo says with a flip of his depressed hair. It really irritates Bertie.

"If I see Chuffy again, I swear I'll- I'll, he'll pay for it," Tuppy says. 

"It must be nice not having troubles, Bertie," Gussie sighs.

Well, that's bally offensive. Bertie's got quite a handful of troubles- summer school, his grades, the homecoming date, jerk jocks, and this group of emo posers. Bertie's about to tell them so when he, for the first time, sees Jeeves in the cafeteria- so they do have the same lunch break! Jeeves is heading towards a secluded table in the very back, an empty pitiful corner covered in shadow. It can't possibly be comfortable.

"Jeeves!" Bertie shouts, jumping to his feet, practically climbing over the chair, "Jeeves! Over here!"

Unable to refuse such a public display, Jeeves takes his brown paper bag and turns toward Bertie. And as usual, he shimmers his way over. Bertie motions for him to take the empty chair beside him. 

"Yes, Bertram?"

"Come on, eat with us!"

"I shouldn't impose."

"Imposing... life is imposing," Bingo unhelpfully says.

"Ignore him, just ignore him. They've all lost their bally minds here!"

So Jeeves sits, taking out his sandwich- it looks like tuna, or Bertie assumes it's tuna since Jeeves strikes him as the kind of guy who eats fish. Bertie slurps at his soda, trying to ignore the way Gussie's picking at his chips- just get over her already, holy jove. 

"So, how's football going?" Bertie asks.

"There's a game next Friday, against Magenta."

"But how are you doing?"

"Fine, I suppose. Though I could do without Roderick looming over my shoulder- it's rather distracting."

"You're on the football team?" Gussie pipes. 

"Yes," Jeeves says. It's the first time all week Gussie's looked so animated. He adjusts his glasses.

"Hey, Jeeves right? Would- would you mind passing a note for me?"

"To whom?"

"Next time the team's at practice, the cheerleaders'll be there." Gussie blushes. "I- I just want to say sorry to Madeline, Madeline Bassett."

Jeeves shoots Bertie a knowing glance before turning back to Gussie. "Okay." But it sounds more like "I shall endeavor to deliver satisfaction, sir."

After lunch, Jeeves heads to the lockers first and Bertie is left with his slightly more energetic group. Gussie's floating on sunshine and Bingo's run off to catch the eye of his potential girlfriend. And then Tuppy comments to Bertie, "Jeeves is kind of odd, right?" with a half-laugh.

And for some reason, that offends Bertie. "No, no he's not," he tells T. with more bitterness than needed. 

"Whatever you say, Bertie." Bertie has half a mind to stuff his sandwich wrapper down Tuppy's throat.

X~X

As promised, Jeeves takes it upon himself to be Bertie's tutor. They meet at the library after school and occupy the table nearest the bookshelves. It's a nice, quiet spot close enough to the windows to feel the sun's light, but far enough as not to collect dust. In Bertie's opinion, Jeeves isn't bad at this at all- he's starting to grasp algebra pretty well. Same with bio.

The nice part is that no matter how many questions he asks over and over again, Jeeves never gets mad. There are times when Bertie senses a silent sigh from the older boy, but nothing's pushed Jeeves to want to leave the task yet. That's a nice thing for Bertie.

Sometimes they both treat it as a study hall. Bertie doesn't want to see his aunt so quickly (not with her pressures about a h.d!) and Jeeves doesn't have to work shifts at fast food restaurants anymore. Of course, Bertie's monthly allowance has also depleted a significant amount thanks to their arrangement. It's on one of those reflective afternoon spirits that Bertie wonders if they'd still be friends once he stopped paying Jeeves.

Jeeves has his head bent over a chemistry textbook, hands robotically taking notes on his pressed notebook. Across, Bertie has Hemingway's novel open, but his eyes aren't on the pages. He's checking facebook stats while listening to his favorite tunes, the buds in his ears. He chances a glance at the other boy- with the sun filtering so nearby, it reminds him of when he first met Jeeves that day in history. Jeeves looks just as tranquil and delicate as he did that day.

"My aunt Dahlia's visiting soon. You should meet her."

"I should be glad to."

"You know, she and Aunt Agatha were a couple back in the day."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I heard they were hot lesbians, but I'm not sure if that description's applicable now. Aunt A. met Aunt D. after she divorced her husband, so that probably makes her bi. And now Aunt D.'s living with Mr. Trevors, which probably makes her bi too. It's pretty complicated, or least that's what my uncle George says."

"No, it makes sense to me."

Bertie always picks the strangest conversation starters. He thinks it's a strong suit. 

"What kind of music do you like?" Bertie asks.

Jeeves only raises an eighth of a brow. "I have a fondness for independent artists, but I find the classics most soothing."

"Guess what I like."

"Pop?"

Bertie laughs, shaking his head. Pulling out an earbud he holds it towards Jeeves. After a second's hesitation, Jeeves leans forward and places it in his own ear. 

"This is..."

"Rock jazz. I think it's Bertram's style," Bertie says with a grin.

"Yes, it suits you."

"What do you think of it? If you don't like it, just say the word and I'll switch tunes. I've got One Direction here if that's your kind of thing."

"No, this is rather pleasing. Very nice, Bertram."

Bertie feels his cheeks warm. "Thanks."

The tune comes to an end and Bertie's phone jumps to the next one. The decades-old "When You Say Nothing at All" starts playing. Bertie utters an "oops," prepared to touch the playlist, before he notices that Jeeves is staring at the textbook again, having made no move to rid himself of the earbud.

Their heads are a lot closer together. Bertie fiddles with his school tie, trying hard not to stare at Jeeves for fear of awkwardness. With everyone around him descending into madness, it's nice to just be in a calm place with a calm friend. That's what he tells himself.

"Jeeves?"

"Yes, Bertram?"

Bertie looks at him and mouths along with the chorus of his song. You say it best when you say nothing at all.

X~X

The notes Gussie gave to Madeline via Jeeves must have worked because he's in her favor again, so much so that the whole gang is invited to the next school game. Tuppy and Bingo are excited to see the cheerleaders. Bertie's just there to see Jeeves play.

He's not too fond of these games because it always gets too loud and late and someone has to do something embarrassing. Bingo's flirting with the girls sitting in the row beneath them and Gussie's so nervous he's shaking. But at least there's popcorn for Bertie to enjoy. Florence is the cheerleader captain and when her posse storms onto the field, she does an impressive display of acrobatics.

Bertie supposes the same could be said for Madeline, since Gussie's face turns red. Bingo's practically salivating at the performance, figuratively of course. Florence finishes with a flip, the girls crying support for the TOTLEIGH TIGERS! Bertie can just hear the capslock in his ears. Then the "tigers" themselves finally trickle onto the field, Captain Spode reveling in the glory of his audience, Stilton not far behind him. C. Bramsky's shouting orders in the back.

"Go Spode!" Madeline cheers, tossing her pom-poms in the air, her friends joining her.

Gussie visibly frowns at that. Florence goes as far as to make the cheerleaders form an S, for Spode or Stilton, it doesn't really matter. They're the top players anyway. Bertie feels awfully sorry for Gussie- he just doesn't seem to be Madeline's type. But Bertie doesn't dwell on it for long because that's when he spots Jeeves, or who he assumes to be Jeeves, taking his place with the rest of his team. Bertie has no idea what his position is but it must be pretty important since Spode's talking to him.

"Which one's Jeeves?" Tuppy asks between bites of popcorn.

"He's the one over there, uh, in front of Spode. Or behind? I'm not good at this, but that's definitely him."

"They made him a quarterback?! Must be pretty good."

Bertie doesn't think Jeeves will be bad at the game, but it isn't until they actually start playing with the Magenta team that Bertie notices how good his friend is. Jeeves never misses a single catch, never falls on the ground no matter how hard the slam, and his tosses go just as far as Spode's. But what's really impressive is how fast he runs without looking like he's running. He's not shimmering anymore- it's like he's splashing, that's it. Jeeves splashes through the whole game.

He intercepts the ball in much the same way he caught Bertie's in gym. His moves are seamless, catch and run, pass and catch, and back always straight, despite being weighed down in that clunky uniform. Bertie picks up a few comments here and there from the rest of the audience, most wondering who the mysterious Totleigh player is and who's better between him and Spode since he's clearly better than Stilton. That makes Bertie vicariously smug.

The popcorn bucket's empty and at their feet by the time the game enters its last minutes. One of the Magenta players crashes into Jeeves a bit... viciously, or vicious enough for Bertie to wince anyway. The referee might have blown a whistle if the other boy hadn't immediately pulled himself out from under the opposing player's weight. And without even a hobble, Jeeves carries on.

It's good that he did too since another Tiger gets slammed to the ground soon after, sending the ball shooting towards open field. Jeeves is quick enough to slide over and catch it. He skids to a near stop, as if wondering who to send it too, Spode being too far away and Stilton not open. Then C. Bramsky shouts loud enough for everyone to hear.

"The goal, Jeeves, the goal!"

Jeeves breaks into his splashy sprints, darting like a high speed train towards the opposing fork. None of the Magenta Mongooses are able to pin him. He's like an annoying bird of prey, avoiding capture by angry hunters at all costs. And then-

"Touchdown!" the school announcer cries.

Bertie is one of the first to jump up and whoop, feeling a surge of sudden school pride. The rest of the audience is quick to join in their wild cheers. On the field, Jeeves sways before steadying himself, chest heaving and quite visibly shaken. The boy pulls his helmet off to catch his breath, his teammates swarming towards him. And Jeeves looks totally different and exactly the same.

His black hair is disheveled and swaying in the wind, eyes sparkling with adrenaline, lips parted for breath. He's still standing straight and in Bertie's opinion, looking as wild and beautiful and cool as ever. No, that's not the word anymore- it almost stuns him that the word would even occur to him, that is to say-

"He's so fucking hot," some girl says below him. 

The cheerleaders must agree because they're taking up their gymnastics again as the school relishes its victory, and Florence wastes no time in bellowing "Jeeves!" at the top of her lungs. Bertie feels the need to chant along, but holds his tongue. Instead, he sinks back into his seat, still unsure why it occurred to him to describe another boy as hot, not just the man-crush way; in that moment, he had genuinely found Jeeves-

No, no, it's just the spirit of the game. Sports fever got into Bertram's brain, yes, that's it. 

Chapter Text

Since the night of Jeeves' Herculean triumph, Bertie's had the time to push those less-than-platonic thoughts for his friend to the darkest, deepest, thingyless recesses of his Woosterian brain. Totally effective. That is to say, if he doesn't count those three or five cold showers he took once he got home, the tossing and turning that it took to quell the unmanly blush in his cheeks, and ten or twenty giddy texts he shot Jeeves' way (most of them along the lines of "congrats!" and "nice man!" and "whoa" and some emoticons). It helps that he doesn't see Jeeves all sweaty and panting again. 

Once the weekend blows over and school starts on Monday, Jeeves' hair is perfectly combed and he's stuck in a stiff blazer again. And it's not like Bertie misses the wild disarray of those dark locks or the frenzied baby blues or the way that Jeeves splashes through the football field- it's all a thing of the past, thank you very much! And Bertie would never give any of those things a second thought, especially not while staring down his rubber duck in a cold bath. 

He still meets Jeeves in the library after class and the latter still carries his books to and from each period. All in all, nothing's actually changed. Jeeves is practically the only thing in Totleigh that hasn't changed much for Bertie. Bingo's taken to posting Evanescence lyrics all over his facebook wall (Bertie was over that phase in middle school, really!) and being a general pain in the bum with his emo-ness or whatsit (poser!). Gussie's somehow gotten more fish-fished and more pathetic, what with his clinging onto Madeline all the time and getting shoved in dumpsters by r.s for it. Chuffy's ignoring them all indefinitely and T.'s just unbearable- at this point, Bertie'd rather hear Aunt Agatha talk about her soaps than bear more of Tuppy's whining.

And Bertie's gotten better at school. Thanks to Jeeves' impressive tutoring, he actually gets what the teachers say- not just get get, but getting get. The old Bertram Wooster might as well have been dead and buried, as far as his instructors were concerned. The gang's all messed up now, but at least Jeeves is the same RJ. The older boy still doesn't talk much and nothing's really changed in the lessons, and even though he sits with the gang at lunchtime, he's still a silent shimmerer. 

Bertie thinks that's nice. And with S & S raising more of a ruckus each day and Rocky weaning off drugs, not to mention the catfights supposedly happening in the cheer team, it's nice to have some stable ground in Totleigh. Really, Bertie wouldn't trade Jeeves’ unchanging thingyness for the world.

Bertie: I like u :)

Reginald: I like you too, Bertram.

Bertie: that didn't sound right XD i mean like a friend u kno? lol 

Reginald: I know, Bertram. As I have stated, I like you too.

Bertie: :)

XXX

When Aunt Dahlia stops by for her routine visit, Aunt A. is all too happy to dump Bertie in her hands. The exact words were, "If you want to see him so much, take him. Then maybe you'll see what I have to put up with!" to which Aunt D. retorted, "If you look in the mirror, I'm sure you'll see what you put up with each day" to which Aunt A. said, "My!" And Aunt. D said, "My!" And Bertie said "Holy Jove!" But that's nothing unusual for the household.

Aunt Agatha takes it as a reason to visit New York for the weekend, and to check up on her disappointing biological son because as disappointing as he may be, he will never be as disappointing as her sorry excuse for a nephew. That, and she plans to go on a shopping spree. Which leaves Bertie in the hands of fate, or rather, Aunt Dahlia, who'd rather spend her time getting facials and manicures than pressure him about school. 

Aunt D. being infinitely nicer and prettier than Aunt A. is much easier to communicate with, so Bertie wastes no time in updating her on the going-ons of Totleigh, minus the bad grades and Jeeves' salary. Besides, it's been forever since Bertie's had an adult who actually laughs with him and cares about his activities, since Aunt A. is more inclined to laugh at him and curse his activities.

"Wait, Richard's a goth now?"

"Crazy! I think he's doing it for some girl- Bingo's freaky like that-"

"Oh, poor Gussie."

"I warned him!"

"You really should tell someone about Roderick."

"Nobody wants to be a bally tattletale!"

"Oh, you're popular with the ladies, aren't you, Bertie?"

"No, not at all. Stop laughing, Aunt D.!"

"Yes, your friend Jeeves sounds like a good boy-"

"The best! He's super cool, like mega cool- you've got to meet him, Aunt D.!"

Then somehow, the conversation turns to Jeeves and stays on Jeeves. Bertie says more than he wanted to share- no, he had no intention of sharing the moment they had in the rain or their first texts- but Aunt D's prying eyes pull the secrets from his mouth, like a very aggressive dentist. And the more he speaks, the more excited Aunt D. gets; to be honest, it unnerves Bertie how animated she's becoming and yet he can't shut up. He ends up telling her about the desk in the front row, farthest right, the color of Jeeves' umbrella, his disdain for the abbreviation "RJ," the impressive figure his body cuts, the slight crook of his nose, and the bulge in his head. 

"Well, Agatha won't be coming back as long as I'm around," Aunt D. says, a knowing glint in her e.s, "we should invite him over. It's only too bad we don't have Anatole with us."

"Terrible!" Bertie agrees, his stomach longing for Anatole's food, "... oh! Right, I'll invite him tonight. See if he wants to stay over- can he stay over? I mean, Aunt A. won't let anyone crash with me anymore, not since Bingo-"

"Don't remind me," Aunt D. says, rubbing her temples, "and go ahead- your friend can stay. I'd like to meet this boy."

"You'll love him, Aunt D.!"

And without any more prompting, Bertie calls Jeeves, leaves a voice mail, calls again, texts him, calls again, and clears his throat when Jeeves finally picks up with his familiar "Bertram?" 

"You doing anything tonight, man?"

"No."

"Awesome! Remember my Aunt Dahlia- she's here with me now so we'll get the house to ourselves, me and her, that is. You should come for dinner tonight, and maybe stay the night?"

"Is this a slumber party?"

"No! That's lame, Jeeves. It's called crashing over. So want to crash with me?" Bertie's excitement colors his voice and it's a second of agony before Jeeves answers.

"Okay." It sounds more like "I should be obliged, sir" but Bertie's used to that by now.

 XXX

Jeeves doesn't show up for dinner because he doesn't want to "impose" and when he finally does arrive, it's eight PM sharp. Besides the McD. uniform and the football outfit, Bertie's never seen him in anything but the Totleigh wardrobe so it's pretty c. to see him out of his element, so to speak. At Bertie's insistence, Jeeves steps into the spacious house, a rolled up mat tied to his back, his own person clad in a collared white shirt. The only thing missing is a tie.

"You're Bertie's new friend?" Aunt D. asks coming out of the living room to handle her obligatory adult responsibility.

"I am, Mrs. Travers."

Aunt D. shakes his hand rather awkwardly before saying, to Bertie's strange mortification, "Oh, you're just as cute as Bertie says. I wasn't expecting much because he has low standards- this is a nice surprise." She laughs and Jeeves stares, not quite understanding.

"Aunt D.!" Bertie all but cries.

"Okay, okay, I'll stop embarrassing you, dear." Giving his cheek a pinch, Aunt D. departs, leaving the boys to their thing. Once the embarrassment subsides, Bertie comes up to Jeeves and prods the other boy forward.

"Come on, let's go up to my room. Maybe we'll finally have some privacy there."

"Okay." It sounds more like "very good, sir."

When they do get to his room, Bertie grins in pride. He has a queen-sized bed, a wall littered with theatre posters, and the neatest bookcase a teenager can own. He even has a guitar in his closet, right below his tie-dyed shirts, but Jeeves doesn't seem too eager to hear him play. Maybe another time. Bertie plops down on his bed and rolls onto his stomach, signaling Jeeves to join him. After setting that mat of his on the floor and spreading it out, Jeeves complies.

"You have colorful walls," Jeeves tells him, sitting on the edge of the bed, back straight as can be.

There may have been a hint of disdain in the word "colorful" but Bertie take it as a compliment on his creativity. So he beams and says, "Yeah, I like collecting posters. That one's pretty cool, what? I mean, right?"

"The Titanic poster?"

"Oh no, but that one's cool too but in a different way. I mean, like that one- the Michael Jordan with the bunny. And that one with the spaceship. It's from Star Wars, I think. Or Star Trek. I always get the two mixed up. Gussie absolutely hates it when I do. You know, he tried to punch me one time when I said the Death Star belonged to Captain Kirk. It's kind of confusing for me."

"I can imagine."

Jeeves falls silent again, eyes elegantly sweeping from poster to p. Bertie knows he should feel awkward, but in all honesty, he doesn't. It's a nice kind of silence, the natural sort that two people who are so close they don't even need to talk fall into- or at least, that's what Bertie thinks. But then Jeeves breaks the silence.

"Bertram, do you care for all your clothes?"

"Not really. Except a few hats and Tees, not much."

A hint of mischief enters the taller boy's eyes for the first time. Bertie finds it oddly thrilling. Before Jeeves can finish his, "Then would you mind if-" Bertie's already answered with "Let's do it!" whatever it may be. His reply throws Jeeves off for a bit.

"You won't regret it, Bertram?"

"A Wooster never regrets!" That wasn't quite true. Bertie regrets more things than he can count- most of them incidents from the dreaded grade seven.

It turns out Jeeves is setting a trap for him, because with a quarter sly and three fourths sinister almost-smile, Jeeves stands up and points at the closet. "I think it'd do us both a great service if we got rid of those 'tees,' Bertram." Even though Bertie doesn't think there's anything wrong with his shirts, it's hard to argue with a voice like Jeeves', with the kind of tone that could convince him to drink sand in the Sahara.

"Should I stuff them in a bag or something? It'd be bally dreadful, I mean, lame, if we just threw them away."

"That sounds good."

So the two of them end up digging through Bertie's wardrobe, bundling up all the colors of the rainbow.  Jeeves holds a pair of polka-dotted swim trunks like a basin of toxic waste. There are points where Jeeves looks ill, as in physically. Bertie doesn't think his elephant sweater is that big a deal, but if it'd please his friend to see it out of sight, so be it. Jeeves is especially offended by a neon green baseball cap. The fedora gifted by Bingo also goes into the bag. More than half the items in Bertie's closet are gone and there's a bulging garbage bag in its corner by the time the boys finish.

Only a palate of cool colors and solid shirts remain. At least the smiley face jacket remains- likely because Bertie took care to hide it from Jeeves' sight. He doesn't know what it says about Jeeves' character if Bertie says this is the most passionate he's ever seen the other boy.

"Thank you, Bertram. I feel a lot more at ease now," Jeeves says when they return to the bed.

"No problem, man," Bertie replies, taking the macbook from his desk and plopping it on the bed. He curls up by it and invites Jeeves to do the same. "Let's check on everyone else. Oh- you have a facebook? I tried looking for you."

"I had to make an account for Coach Bramsky yesterday. I'm not online often, though I did join a study group."

"Just yesterday? Man, you're missing out!"

With a few satisfied clicks, Bertie sends "Jeeves" (no Reginald, just Jeeves, no profile picture, no hobbies, no interests, just a line that says he attends Totleigh) a request. To his agitation, Jeeves is already "friends" with Matthew Huang and a few others in that AP study group of theirs (Ganymede or some thingummy like that). Well, Bertie would have to amend that! He was here first, after all.

"Oh gosh," Bertie says, "Jeeves, look at this. Chuffy's getting a tattoo."

Jeeves leans in to get a closer look, and there on the screen, in mortifying detail is Chuffy nursing a sore arm with the word “Marmaduke” carved into his bicep. Bertie shakes his head in secondhand embarrassment.

“Is that Richard?” Jeeves asks, glance falling on the second event of Bertie’s timeline.

Bingo’s posted an image of himself at some kind of emo bar, complete with black lipstick, fake lashes, and what appears to be a bat in the background. That, or it’s an elaborate costume party. Curiously enough, Gussie is in the corner of that picture, sulking away like a fish.

“He’s just trying to impress the Goth girl. Don’t mind him, Jeeves. Huh! By Jove- I mean, oh man!- Look, Gussie wants to go emo too!”

“It likely has something to do with his significant other status.”

“…”

“…”

“Jeeves, did you just make a joke?” Because Gussie has no girlfriend, which would make the remark sarcastic, which would make it funny. Bertie thinks it’s impressive of himself to understand Jeeves’ sense of humor.

“No, I was merely hypothesizing.” Nevermind.

“Nevermind.” Bertie continues scrolling down. “Spode’s getting ready for his anniversary with Madeleine- I didn’t know you could have an anniversary if you were never together!”

“Bertram, I’m confused. Why is Roderick your facebook friend? I thought he hated you.”

“Because it’s facebook, Jeeves! It doesn’t bally matter if you actually like the person or not. You could bloody hate them and still be friends online. Just how the system works, man.”

“That would explain why Stilton tried to friend me.”

“Did you accept?”

“Not yet. I was under the impression that he did so by accident. He did tell me, in his words, ‘I hate your bloody guts, Jeeves.’”

That miffs Bertie for some reason. Righteous Wooster anger flares up for his friend, and Bertie is about to give the absent Stilton a piece of his mind when he remembers his own advice to Jeeves.

“Well, it’s up to you, man. Just remember to accept Bertram’s request!”

“Okay.” Which sounds more like “very good, sir.”

The hours pass by rather fast from then on out. Bertie spends a few more hours showing Jeeves his facebook and instagram, digging through the funniest photos he can find (like Tuppy in little pony underpants, Bingo sticking out a tongue, Stiffy on a bad hair day, and Gussie standing next to a fish tank). Then, of course, the natural thing to do is to pull up his vine account and show Jeeves the hilarious videos Claude and Eustace post of their various pranks (which are usually at Bertie’s expense- come to think of it, that’s not so humorous). This then leads to Bertie wanting pulling up Netflix, which then leads to him letting Jeeves pick a film at random.

That leads to Bertie sobbing into Jeeves’ shoulder over Toy Story 3. And after much comforting (“Yes, it was very distressing, Bertram.” “No, Bertram, your toys will not face such a fate.” “Bertram, it’s a work of fiction.”) the conversation turns back to the books of old, from Dickens to Marlowe to Sophocles. And thus, the night passes until Bertie is sufficiently tuckered out.

“You ready for bed, Jeeves?” Bertie says with a yawn, pulling back the covers to his generous bed.

“I guess,” though it sounds more like, “as you wish.”

From the corner of his sharp Wooster e.s, Bertie sees Jeeves unroll his mat. Well, that just couldn’t do.

“This isn’t the army, old thing- I mean, dude,” Bertie informs him.

At Jeeves’ confusion, Bertie pats the queen bed, and grins in a way he hopes is c. “It’s big enough, man- we can share!”

“Are- are you sure, Bertram?”

“Totally!”

Bertie is about to lie down himself when he remembers. Oh shoot! The teen jumps back up and throws off his T-shirt. Jeeves catches it, staring at Bertie like a confused cat (“Bertram? What-”), as if he doesn’t see Bertie naked in the locker room all the time. It’s a little funny, but Bertie doesn’t think it’s worth dwelling on.

“Help me fold that- Aunt D. can’t stand it when people don’t wear P.Js, and neither can I. Bally can’t.”

“Okay.”

And miraculously, Jeeves is done with the folding. Bertie tosses his jeans at him too. When Bertie puts on his polka-dot nightwear, Jeeves throws a pillow at his face.

XXX

Jeeves looks dead when he’s asleep, not that Bertie thinks there’s anything really wrong with that. If a guy wants to look a corpse if he sleeps, then so be it. Bertie’s not one to judge. Then again, he supposes no one can really help what they look like when they sleep. But Jeeves isn’t just anyone.

Jeeves probably could control the way he looks when asleep. Bertie will have to ask him how.

“Ask me what, Bertram?” Jeeves asks, as stiff-lipped as ever, eyes still shut, and poised on his side of the bed.

Bertie wonders if Jeeves can see him staring, and the truth is, Bertie’s been staring at him for a long time. He’s assured by the fact that it’s dark and Jeeves’ eyes are closed. And there’s not much sound save their combined breathing (well, Bertie’s, at least) and the ventilation.

“Oh, nothing,” Bertie says. Nice save.

“Are you sure?”

Jeeves opens his eyes and turns his head to meet Bertie’s, forehead nearly bumping into his own. There’s a faint heat on Bertie’s ears, a nice kind. He can’t see Jeeves all that well without the lights on, but he assumes the boy’s hair is a little mussed from his corpse-nap, so he must look a little like he did that night. That wild, beautiful night-

“Um, do you like-” the words catch and Bertie forgets what he wants to say, “like, have any secrets?”

“Yes.”

“Tell you mine if you tell me yours?”

“Very well, sir,” Jeeves practically says, though Bertie knows he only says, “okay.”

“I cry,” Bertie confesses, “I mean, I cry a lot, a bally lot. I’m like a waterfall. Aunt A. tells me to suck it up and I cry harder. I’m a total crybaby. I might look tough, but I’m really just a crybaby.”

“Is that so?” Jeeves says, a hint of amusement in his reply.

“Totally. I can cry for hours. Your turn.”

Jeeves takes a moment to think before he says, “I cry too.”

“No!” Bertie gasps. Now that’s a shocker.

“It’s the truth.” Jeeves continues. “I’m a silent weeper.”

“Don’t worry- your secret’s safe with Bertram!”

“I know.”

There’s a rustling sound and Bertie expects Jeeves to turn around, but the other boy doesn’t. He merely shifts on the pillow and Bertie isn’t sure if it’s his imagination, but Jeeves seems to have inched closer to him, speaking so low only the two of them can hear.

“The notebook,” Jeeves says, “I cry at the end. All the time.”

“All the time? You mean you watch it-”

“Any chance I have. Romance is a genre I’m quite fond of.”

“Yeah, same here.”

Bertie (secretly) inches a little closer too. He clutches at the blankets. He can almost feel the crook of Jeeves’ nose but they’re not close enough for that- pretty bally close though. He feels like he’s learned a lot about Jeeves tonight.

He’s malicious with colors, hates Bertie’s wardrobe, and is a sucker for romance. Well, that’s not very personal information. But for Bertie, he just sort of knows it is. For someone like Jeeves, it must be. He lets his own lids shut.

“Hey, Jeeves?”

“Yes?”

“The notebook- I cried too.”

XXX

Nothing changes and everything changes afterwards. Bertie isn’t sure if it’s after Jeeves’ night over or just some gradual spike in their friendship. But slowly yet surely, Bertie and Jeeves become two peas in a pod.

He doesn’t run to Bingo and Tuppy on campus anymore- he’d much rather fall into step beside Jeeves. He runs with Jeeves, sits with him, goes to the bathroom with him, and maybe secretly watches his football practice. It’s meant to be; after all, Bertie’s Jeeves’ second facebook friend and he posts on the Junior’s wall far more than Matthew whats-his-name could ever hope to.

They’re ham and cheese, Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock, a packet of M&Ms, peanut butter and jelly, best mates: Jeeves and Wooster.

XXX

Bertie tastes Jeeves’ mouth on a cloudy Friday noon. As in, he takes a bite out of Jeeves’ tuna sandwich. Second bite, to be exact because Jeeves himself already took the first b. And Bertie didn’t even ask.

He doesn’t have to ask.

And Jeeves doesn’t say a word, so Bertie takes that as a sign telling him Jeeves thinks so too. This whatsit between them is something that people like B & T would never know. But Bertie really has no idea why he took that bite.

“Why did I take that bite?” he asks.

“How should I know?” Tuppy says with a mouth full of fries, eyes locked on Chuffy and Pauline in the distance.

“It doesn’t matter. We’re all going to die anyway,” Bingo sighs with a flip of his now-black hair. Bertie really wants to shove his soda down Bingo’s throat.

Maybe he just really wanted to try Jeeves’ sandwich. It tastes plain and a little dry- cheap. But simple in a good way. It’s all Jeeves ever brings for lunch. All that compressed fish must be what makes Jeeves so smart. And maybe it slipped through Bertie’s noggin that Jeeves makes a sandwich look attractive- it’s probably the way his lips press on the bread and the way crumbs come apart on his elegant mouth.

Bertie’s about to tell Jeeves how c. his sandwich is when a giant of a senior walks towards their table like a drunk-yet-sober bear, swinging an oversized sack over his shoulder. Bertie blinks. Said sack is Gussie!

“That’s Gussie!” Bertie exclaims.

The boy drops Gussie in an empty chair, the sophomore sporting a head of banana peels. It’s really not cool so the emo B. and T. inch away to avoid looking like his friends. And said drunk-yet-sober bear is none other than Harold Pinker.

“That’s Stinker, I mean, Pinker!” Bertie exclaims.

“I can walk by myself,” Gussie snaps, shaking the peels from his head.

Stinker casts the boys a sheepish glance, eyeing Jeeves with a hint of surprise- or, Bertie dare hopes, envy.

“Look who’s too cool to sit with us now,” Tuppy says with a sneer. Bertie knows he’s trying to sound mean, but really, T. just sounds petty.

“Nobody’s ever too cool to sit with us!” Bertie exclaims before realizing that didn’t come out right.

“See you later, Jeeves… Bertie,” Stinker says, eyes not meeting anyone. Then he leaves in that clumsy gait and Bertie watches him go back to the cool table with S & S, and then whatdoyouknow, Stiffy on his arm.

“I didn’t know they were together,” Bertie says. Goes to show what happens when one doesn’t check his facebook in the morning.

By then, Jeeves is wiping Gussie’s head with a clean napkin produced out of nowhere.  “Are you okay?” he asks, but it sounds more like, “how may I be of assistance?”

“I’m fine,” Gussie sighs, “out here. But-“ he touches his chest, “-not in here.”

“Cry me a river,” Tuppy moans.

“Life is all about tears,” Bingo adds.

“You wanna know what happened, guys?” Gussie says.

“No,” Bertie says before going for another bite of Jeeves’ food.

“I asked Madeline if she remembered middle school,” Gussie says anyway even though Bertie doesn’t care, “seventh grade, last week before summer. There was something between us- and you should’ve seen the way she looked at me.”

“She threw a banana at you.”

“It wasn’t her. Spode did that.”

“Roderick feels threatened by you, Gussie,” Jeeves says matter-of-factly after folding his napkin, “or he would see no reason to attack you.”

Gussie looks at Jeeves like a starving pilgrim gazing upon an angel. Bertie is slightly jealous. He shakes the thought and takes one of Tuppy’s fries.

“It doesn’t matter.” Gussie turns on that pathetic face again. “I can’t help it- I love her. But Madeline’s popular and I’m- I’m Gussie Fink-Nottle.”

“True,” Bingo says, “just look at Stinker.”

“Stinker?” Jeeves raises a quarter of a brow.

“Harold,” T. answers, “did Bertie tell you, man? Stinker used to be tight with us.”

“Yeah,” the emo B. continues, “he actually sat in your seat, Jeeves. We loved him- funny guy, not a good thinker, but he was good.”

“And then-” T says, ready to deliver that dreadful note.

“He got popular,” Gussie finishes, “good at sports, invited to parties, not a virgin- and he picked them over us.”

“Can’t blame him though.” Bingo flips his hair. “I’d pick them over us too.”

“He’s still a better person than Chuffy,” Tuppy growls.

Jeeves turns to Bertie, as if silently expecting the other boy to say something. But Bertie has nothing to say. He munches away at his lunch, hoping for this topic to end. The truth is Bertie liked Stinker quite a lot. And no Wooster ever enjoyed being snubbed. For lack of better word, Stinker hurt him and it still hurts.

But whatever. Stinker’s a thing of the past. Bertie has Jeeves now.

“We still on for the library later?” Bertie asks.

“Of course.”

Bertie has Jeeves. And that’s not going to change.

XXX

And then, quite suddenly, Jeeves is popular. Bertie doesn’t know when or how it happened, but it did.

Jeeves is the star of the football team, unofficial captain of the chess club, and Totleigh’s most brilliant pupil to date. He always knows exactly what to do and what to say. And everywhere Bertie turns, he hears Jeeves’ n. passing on the lips of giggling girls. He guesses it was only a matter of time before someone as c. as Jeeves is noticed.

It’s a weird feeling, like being drunk on orange juice and realizing penguins are birds. Bertie knows who Jeeves is: smarter than smart, chiseled good looks, slight crook of the nose, b. blue eyes, football miracle, a little shy, cool as can be. And now he’s beginning to notice that other people are beginning to know Jeeves. Not the weird new kid anymore, nope!

Jeeves isn’t a penguin. Jeeves is a bird.

And as Bertie watches Juniors and Seniors clapping Jeeves on the shoulder, girls gathering around Jeeves as he plays chess, Pinker and Stiffy inviting Jeeves to lunch, Totleigh’s limelight gaze falling on Jeeves, he feels an itch in his stomach, like Tom losing Jerry.

And at the next Totleigh Tiger game he attends, Bertie can’t find the strength to stand up and cheer. Mostly because he was all but squeezed into a sardine can on the bleachers. And it isn’t like his voice could overpower Florence’s scream of “JEEVES!” anyway. They’re all screaming “Jeeves!” and even the mortified look on S&S’s faces can’t cheer Bertie up.

He’s glad people like Jeeves. But he doesn’t want Jeeves to fly away. But that’s what happens when people like you.

XXX

Madeline throws a party on Friday night and all of Totleigh’s most p. are invited. Bertie’s been invited too, but he knows it’s because everyone knows he’s Jeeves’ best m. He doesn’t mind, though. Tuppy would kill for an invite. Bingo’s there too, and for obvious reasons, Gussie’s invitation is lost in the trash. Bertie wishes he could go, just so everyone could know old Bertram really is Jeeves’ best man.

But cranky Aunt A. just had to ground him. Punishment for bad grades and hanging out with that crackhead Rocky or whatnot.

So Bertie resigns himself to a night of monitoring the party on his laptop. Madeline’s put out the best Bassett booze and he’s already scrolled past at least ten photos of Chuffy and Pauline in rather daring positions. They should be grounded!

As always, Jeeves’ facebook status says absolutely nothing despite his high increase in f.b friends. There are a few new photos: one of the Totleigh Tigers posing for Coach B., the chess team, and a few selfies Bertie took with him. And to Bertie’s relief, most of Jeeves’ timeline is filled with comments from Bertie (and Coach B. but nobody cares). Bertie leaves Jeeves’ f.b.p when instagram updates.

Madeline’s uploaded some new p. of the party, mostly selfies and people doing who-knows-what with that booze. But then there’s a picture of Jeeves, holding a red plastic cup, Chuffy and Stinky at his sides. He looks stiff, but Bertie can tell he’d be more comfortable serving that stuff instead of drinking it.

Then, as if on cue, his phone dings:

Reginald: Bertram, are you coming?

Bertie: can’t grounded >:(

Reginald: I see

Bertie: im stalking the party tho lmao looks fun

Reginald: It would seem so.

That’s Jeeves’ way of saying, “This party sucks.” Bertie chuckles and replies.

Bertie: having fun?

Reginald: It would be rude to say I’m not.

Bertie: lol

Reginald: The cheerleaders want me to take off my shirt.

It’s a button-up, of course. Bertie’s not sure if he feels outraged or jealous, or a combination of both, so he does his best to give an honest answer.

Bertie: i know u don’t want to don’t do it if u dn’t want to

Reginald: Ok

Bertie: unless u bally want to, then do it

Reginald: Ok

Bertie: if I was there id tell them to shut the b up

Reginald: b?

Bertie: bally well

Madeline uploads another photo of Spode snoring drunk over the couch. Jeeves is in the corner, looking at his phone, at least five read cups piled beside him. “omg Jeeves outdrank Roderick XD” the caption says #getwrecktSpode. Jeeves is a heavyweight- Bertie didn’t know.

Reginald: I wish you were here

Bertie: me too :)

XXX

Bertie waits as Jeeves says goodbye to Matthew Huang and the rest of the nerds from his A.P study group. Then the two of them prepare to leave school. They’ll walk to Bertie’s place and Jeeves will head off from there. But they’ve had such little time lately, with football practice and Bertie being grounded and all that jazz.

“Stop by for dinner,” Bertie says, “Aunt A. won’t mind if it’s you. She knows you’re on the honor roll. You’re Bertram’s only friend on the honor roll.”

Jeeves hesitates before saying, “I can’t. I have an appointment.”

“What appointment?”

“Roderick is falling behind and Coach Bramsky needs me to tutor him this afternoon. We’re meeting in the local library.”

“Spode?!” Bertie gasps. “He hates you! And me! He hates us!”

“He’s made that clear, yes. But he knows what’s best for the team. And I’m sure he wouldn’t want to be cut.”

“Okay,” Bertie says, incredulous, “can’t you just blow him off today?”

“No. It’s only for a few weeks, Bertram.”

“What about my sessions?”

“You’re doing far better. We don’t need to meet over schoolwork so often anymore.”

Jeeves says it casually, but Bertie feels like he’s been punched in the gut. This can’t be real! Jeeves abandoning him for Spode! It’s Stinky all over again and it’s too much for Bertie to handle so he swallows the gulp in his throat, and says without thinking, “But I pay you!”

“Bertram-”

“If you’d rather hang out with Spode, just tell me.”

“That’s not the case, Bertram. Don’t be silly.”

“You think I’m silly! You’ve always thought I’m silly! I’m sorry I’m not Matthew Huang or Spode or Stilton or Coach B!” Bertie cries, wishing he had the power to shut up.

Jeeves’ normally stoic face is taken aback, as if Bertie’s just kneed him in the vital parts.

“If you say wanton things like this, then yes, I do find you silly, Bertram.”

“Then you know what,” Bertie snaps, blinking back the tears, “you know what, you’re fired! You’re fired, RJ!”

“It’s Jeeves,” the other boy says, eyes flashing cold fire, “and I do hereby accept my dismissal.”

And Bertie can’t say anything but “Fine! Bally fine!” before storming off and pushing past campus doors, unwilling to spare Jeeves a second glance. There’s a burning in his gut he can’t quite shake and a growing lump in his throat.

Bertie squats by a streetlight and buries his head in his arms. There’s snot and tears and little sobbing hiccups. Jeeves is a bird, Bertie is an egg, and he was a bally fool to think it could ever have worked out.

Simply put, he liked Jeeves, like liked him and now he’s ruined it all.                                                                                         

Chapter Text

Bertie tries to fake sickness over the next few days. He saw it in the movies once so he thinks it’s as good a shot as any. He curls in bed, shaking from head to toe as he rubs his cold, cold palms together. Of course, Aunt A. would have none of it and even though he has a very real, urgent cough, he’s sent to school anyway. Bertie’s sure he’ll die on the way because he’s probably caught t.b and will soon die like one of those beautiful dames in a film with dramatic music. Jeeves might come see him on his deathbed, then.

Bertie imagines the swelling music, himself coughing those lungs out as Jeeves weeps by his bedside with cries of, “I like you too, Bertram!” And of course, Jeeves would still be handsome and c. as he sobs because the tears would drip from his b.b eyes in exact symmetry and leave pale streaks on his chiseled cheeks. And there would be no snot because that’s not cool. Then Bertie could take his hand and weakly say, “I’m sorry man!” And Jeeves would say, “No, I’m sorry!” And all would be well before the light came and took Bertie away.

But instead, Bertie only sees the neon light in their cafeteria, stuck with the same old food and the same old people. Gussie’s brooding as always, Bingo’s taken to mumbling all his words like a tru(er) Goth or one of those things, and Tuppy spends all his time on his new phone, tweeting about how nice guys finish last and whatnot. Jeeves doesn’t sit with them anymore and Bertie hasn’t extended an invitation either.

He looks to S & S’ table every now and then, just to make sure Jeeves isn’t among Stinky, Chuffy, and the lot.  Not that Bertie would care if he was. It’s not like his life revolves around Jeeves. He has other friends, other things to do, because that’s what a Wooster was and a Wooster doesn’t let some random new kid become the center of his life.

“Where’s Jeeves?” Gussie asks once, and Bertie just shrugs.

Or, he might as well have shrugged. Bertie says, “We got in a fight.”

“What’s the point of fighting?” Bingo sighs, “we all die anyway.”

“You’re better off without him,” Tuppy says, “a real alpha male needs no friends!”

“Did you get that from reddit?” Bertie asks.

“Maybe.”

Regardless, Bertie still can’t help scanning the school paper for news of Jeeves’ performance in Totleigh football games, can’t help but steal flyers from the chess club, can’t help but stalk the Ganymede A.P Study Group’s facebook page, can’t help but obsessively read over Jeeves’ notes, and he certainly can’t help but marathon The Notebook on repeat because it makes him think of Jeeves.

He wonders if Jeeves does the same with Toy Story . Maybe Jeeves went back to McD., maybe Jeeves stalks his facebook or his Instagram or his twitter, but it’s not like Bertie’s been obsessively updating his accounts in the vain hope Jeeves would look. He even sets up a tinder just in case Jeeves has one too… so Bertie can ignore him, of course.

But inside, he knows Jeeves hasn’t done any of these things. He’s too busy with college applications and tutoring Spode and playing football and chess and other thingies. It’s as if Bertie’s never been in Jeeves’ life at all. But Jeeves passed by Bertie’s and for all of Bertie’s forgetfulness, Reginald Jeeves was a hard one to forget.

XXX

In Algebra, Bertie’s finger hovers over Jeeves’ name on his contacts list for the upteenth time; it’d be easy to call or text, and it’s not like he’d get caught since his phone’s on silent and the teacher’s too busy scribbling on the whiteboard to notice. But what would he say? Would a simple “sorry” be enough for Jeeves? Maybe he should say it fancier, like “I apologize” or do it in French.

Before Bertie can make his decision, Emerald taps him, rather hard, on the shoulder. He turns and sees her grim face, bally strange in his opinion.

“What’s up?” he says, “you look bally strange today.”

“Homecoming’s next week,” Emerald sighs, “and I can’t hold it in anymore. Bertie, I need your help.”

Bertie’s not sure if he can help her since he can barely help himself, but a Wooster never said no to a lady in need, unless that lady was Florence or Honoria or anyone else that’s tried to make him their b.f.

“Sure,” Bertie says, “no problemo.”

Then Emerald blushes and leans in real close. “I like Gussie,” she says.

“Everyone knows that!” Bertie laughs.

“Not so loud, Bertie! And no, Gussie doesn’t know.”

Bertie ponders her words. Fish-faced Gussie never was very socially adept, the whole Madeline drama being case-in-point. He taps his fingers on the desk.

“So how can I help?”

Emerald slips a piece of folded notebook paper into his pocket and grabs his hand. “Swear you won’t read it and give it straight to Gussie.”

“I swear on my mum and dad’s life!”

“But Bertie, they’re… uh…”

“I know! That makes my swear doubly important.”

Then Bertie grins, tucks the note farther into the pocket of his blazer, and winks. “You can trust Bertie, Em. Consider your date with Gussie as good as done.”

“Thanks Bertie, you’re a real friend.”

“I’m a real Wooster, that’s what!”

Bertie has a hard time concentrating the rest of class, not because he’s thinking about Jeeves or anything. And to be honest, it’s a lot easier to understand the basics thanks to Jeeves’ past tutoring. When the bell rings, Bertie says a quick goodbye to Emerald and heads down the hall to the lockers. He’s sure Gussie’s gathering his books there (before going off to stalk Madeline and get beat up by Spode).

“Gussie, my man!” Bertie calls when he sees the nerd.

Gussie turns towards him, wiping his glasses. “Bertie? I was looking for you.”

“Great! Because I have-”

“I already know.”

Bertie doesn’t understand. “I don’t understand, what.”

Gussie solemnly pats him on the shoulder and says, “I know you and Emerald are a thing now. You’re a good guy, Bertie, and she’s a good girl. And she’s my best friend, so treat her right, okay?”

What in the blue b. was Gussie on about?

“What in the blue blazes are you on about!?”

“You don’t have to keep it a secret, Bertie. Pauline saw you winking at her in class and it’s all over twitter now.”

“What!? Delete it!”

“I can’t. You’ll have to ask Pauline. And why are you so defensive anyway? Is Emerald not good enough for you?”

Bertie has no idea where all this aggression came from, but he does know it won’t be a good lookout for him if all of Totleigh thinks he and Emerald are an item, not that there’s anything wrong with her. But the thought of Bertie Wooster with a g.f just rubs him all the wrong ways. He’s only ever liked one person that way in his life, and that’d been a boy.

“That’s not it! Em’s great, but I don’t-”

“Just remember what I said, okay? Be nice to her.”

“She doesn’t-”

“I have to go, Bertie. Madeline’s starting fourth period.”

Bertie reaches for the note, but his hand gets stuck in the blazer and just as Gussie leaves, Bertie rather clumsily hits his head on the locker. “Gussie, wait! It’s not what you think!”

XXX

Bertie’s really done it now. Last period of the day is Latin and Bertie can honestly say the teacher might as well be speaking Pig, since his noggin is everywhere but here. He spends all of class with his head down, Bingo and that emo fringe beside him while he scrolls through his phone.

Honoria: so u like emerald stoker!? you know what bertram wooster, ur a playboy and (USER IS TYPING...)

Florence: congrats bertie! didn’t know emerald was ur type. i kinda thought u liked guys

That infamous photo of him winking at Emerald is already trending on instagram and facebook. Emerald hasn’t commented so he assumes she doesn’t know. None of his buddies come to his defense and Stilton makes a big conspiracy theory out of Bertie seeing Emerald while he was with Honoria (which Bertie never was), and that wall of bad grammar and drivel obviously got a like from Spode.

Tuppy: see? ALPHA MALE!! also, honoria wants to kill u

Stiffy: Bertie, you dog!! XD

Bertie has half a mind to send them all a strongly, scratch that, rudely, worded text, consisting of two words, one of which starts with F, and the other ending with “you.” Then facebook pings him with a new notification and Bertie’s forced to scroll through his infinite amount of apps to find it. And there!

Richard Little is now married.

“Bally hell!” Bertie gasps.

He turns to Bingo, who looks as if nothing’s passed. “Bingo, you’re underage, man.”

“Age is just a number. We all die anyway.”

“But marriage? When? How? Who paid?”

“Got hitched online,” Bingo says wispily, “actual wedding’s before homecoming. You coming?”

“What- where? And you can do that?”

“Marry4life, it’s an app. It’ll be at McDonald’s, they do that now. None of this fancy rich kid stuff- I want to be with her in the moment, you know.”

“This is crazy! This is so crazy- you’re all crazy!”

“And bring Em.”

That’s it. Bertie packs his books and stands up. Then immediately gets yelled at by Mr. Brown and sits back down. But when the bell rings, he’s out of there. He doesn’t care where he goes, when, or how- he just wants to get out of there because nothing makes sense anymore and nothing’s going right.

XXX

He still has the note in his blazer. Gussie’s nowhere to be found, won’t answer his phone, and won’t reply texts. Bertie assumes Gussie’s phone is on silent now, probably so he can stalk Madeline better. Bertie still hasn’t replied everyone else’s messages either- he should probably talk to Emerald about the thing , but Em aside, he really isn’t in the mood to converse with anyone.

So he waits until the school’s near empty and all the chums have gone home before he makes his way down the empty halls of Totleigh A. Maybe this is meant to be- maybe he’s supposed to go to the dance with Emerald and get Aunt A. off his back. But then, he has to give Gussie the note anyway. But then Gussie has to get over Madeline. And there’s Bingo’s wedding to worry about. Tuppy’s obviously of no help now, like hell he’ll talk to Stinky, and Chuffy’s group of pals aren’t that close to him anyway. Rocky’s still in rehab so that’s out of the question too.

That leaves…

“Wooster!”

Stunned, Bertie turns and bumps into Stilton’s solid chest. The boy steps back and bumps into Spode. Bertie dizzily wanders into the middle, looking much like a deer in the headlights. S & S take a step closer and Bertie realizes he’s effectively sandwiched.

“Spode, Stilton! Uh, what’s up?” Bertie says nervously.

“Heard you have new girlfriend, Madeline’s sister, right?” Spode says with a sneer.

“Honoria’s been talking about it all day,” Stilton adds, “Bertie this and Bertie that. I don’t know what’s so great about you Wooster. Maybe we’ll have to open you up.”

“Open me? Up?”

Then Spode’s fist gets him in the stomach and Bertie doubles over, the wind knocked out and feeling very much like a pilot crashed in the desert. Gasping, he stares left and right- the staff’s all gone and he doubts anyone left would intervene on his behalf. Stilton grabs his hair and pushes him against a locker, twisting his arm behind his back.

“I’m gonna snap your spine, Wooster.”

“Can you… not?”

“You’re getting beat to a jelly today!” Spode says.

Bertie’s been hit one or two times in the past by S & S, but he’s always avoided the infamous jelly beating. But they’re positively pissed at him now and when the next punch gets him in the head, Bertie falls, seeing stars. He wonders if this is it, the end of Bertie Wooster- maybe he should say goodbye to his spine right now, and every other part of him in preparation for the brutal murder that’d surely follow.

But then he hears a voice, unmistakable, silent yet loud, commanding yet humble. He wouldn’t doubt that voice anywhere.

“Let him go,” Jeeves says.

And Bertie looks up. There Jeeves stands, tall and strong and stoic as ever, exactly as Bertie remembers, but there’s a fire in his eyes, something that tells Bertie for all that c. collectivity, Jeeves is angry. Angry as bally hell.

“Fuck off, Jeeves!” Stilton says.

“No.” But it sounds more like, no, sir, I will not .

Spode rounds on the new boy too and snarls, “You want a taste of this too?”

“Don’t test me, Roderick. Let Bertram go. Now.”

“Or what? You’re gonna save him? Hear that, Wooster?”

The pain finally dimmed and his head cleared, Bertie props himself up and yells, “Jeeves! Don’t do-”

But he’s already fired Jeeves. And as such, the other boy doesn’t obey. Jeeves all but flies forward and socks Spode in the chin. He spins on his heels, throws a punch square in the middle of Stilton’s face, and turns just in time to get Spode right in the stomach. Blood gushing from his nose, Stilton charges, ramming into Jeeves’ chest as Spode recovers and comes up from behind, catching the boy in a bear hug.

Jeeves’ head cracks left and right as Stilton rains blow over blow on his face.

“Jeeves!” Bertie cries again.

Jeeves dodges the next hit and twists right before shouting, “Bertram! Go!”

“But-!”

“Just go! Hurry!”

Then he sinks his teeth into Spode’s hand. Spode cries out in pain, grip loosening enough for Jeeves to drop free. He immediately pounces on Stilton, letting loose hits with all the tenacity of a professional boxer. Spode tackles Jeeves next and the three of them roll across the hall in a flurry of blood and punches.

Bertie turns and, heart pounding so hard he might as well have gone into cardiac arrest, dashes away. He runs past the empty doors, worriedly searching for teachers and finding none, pushes his lungs onwards as he leaves the school. Bertie keeps running about the premises until he sees Mr. Brown’s car, and before the Latin teacher can leave, Bertie grabs his sleeve and spills everything into an incoherent jumble: “Help! Jeeves! S and S! Fight! Gotta go! Bally hell!”

By the time Mr. B knows what he’s talking about, a good ten minutes have passed. Bertie leads him back into the school, convinced there was no more time to lose before Jeeves got beaten to a jelly. But when Bertie stumbles back onto the scene of the crime, they find nothing save a busted locker.

The boys are gone.

XXX

Jeeves doesn’t come to school the next day. It’s the first time he’s ever been absent and already, the rumors are flying. The female populace of Totleigh is very worried, as evidenced by the number of strangers suddenly hitting Bertie up on messenger. And the ambiguity of the whole situation doesn’t do much to help matters either.

According to Matthew Huang’s twitter (not that Bertie stalks everyone in the Ganymede study group), Jeeves said he was feeling “under the weather” the night before. Then another Junior with the handle @coneybear, confirmed that Jeeves had gotten into a fight at the end of school (so maybe the halls weren’t as empty as Bertie thought), and this was confirmed by a few more passerbys. Suspecting her homecoming date, Honoria retweeted the whole thing and Bertie supposes that’s how it blew up.

Nobody can reach Jeeves on facebook or his phone. Bertie knows because he’s tried.

Bertie: Jeeves! r u ok????

Bertie: pls answer!!

Bertie: ppl r talking abt u!!

Bertie: pls Jeeves ur scaring me ><

S & S only fueled the rumors further. Spode comes to school with half his face purple and a broken nose. Stilton sports two black eyes and a broken arm. It’s all too coincidental with Jeeves’ absence and it doesn’t take Totleigh long to accuse Jeeves of causing their injuries. But S & S make no move of denying the fight.

Tuppy: Bertie! Heard Jeeves got beat up by SS! He alive?????

Stilton, especially, grins when he recounts the fight. According to the version of things passed around by S & S, Jeeves indeed attacked them (no one would say why) and in return, they beat him up so badly he ended up in ICU or something of the sort. Either way, S & S insisted Jeeves couldn’t walk. But nobody could confirm this story.

Bertie has a feeling there’s something wrong with their story, but it’s all he can think about in World History, especially when he’s looking at the desk in the front row, farthest right and closest to the window. It’s empty. And Bertie’s stomach sinks. Maybe S & S are telling the truth, maybe Jeeves really was hurt. And it’s all because of him.

He’s so worried he wants to throw up.

And so worried he forgets about the bruises on his own face. Maybe that’s why everyone thinks he’s the missing link in the S & S story, but nobody’s dared approach Bertie for more details. Bertie suspects it’s because everyone’s more afraid of Jeeves than S & S because what kind of person could break Stilton’s arm and live ?

XXX

Bertie gets Jeeves’ address from Coach B. All the coach knows is that Jeeves’ uncle called in for him that day, so Bertie makes up a lie about Jeeves catching a cold. Coach B. would do anything for his star pupil so it was with little difficulty that Bertie got the address and a get-well bowl of soup made by Bramsky himself; it doesn’t smell good.

It takes him a whopping full hour to walk to Jeeves’ place from Aunt A’s. What Bertie does know about where Jeeves lives is that it’s not a gated community and it’s on a squished street of cheap restaurants and laundromats. He sees a few junkies wandering around with bloodshot eyes. Bertie has to enter through the dirty diner in the corner and take the stairs up. He turns into a narrow hall and finds the door he’s looking for: apartment 902.

The canteen of soup shaking in his hands, Bertie gulps and rings the bell. He waits. And waits. And waits.

And decides this was a terrible idea. Bertie turns to leave just as the door opens, and ends up awkwardly looking to his side while a gravelly voice asks, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Bertie says, tongue suddenly tied.

“Can I help you, kid?”

You can do this, old chap- I mean, man. You’re a Wooster . Bertie gulps again and faces his new “opponent.” The boy looks him directly in the eye and says, very friend-like, but not in a pushover way, “Is uh, Reginald home?”

“Who are you?”

“I’m Bertram, his friend.”

“You’re real?” the man all but gasps. He’s a lanky guy, cleanshaven with polite shoulders, but something about him tells Bertie he’s a smoker (maybe it’s the cigarette in his hand), and there’s an air of signature Jeeveness about him. The uncle.

“As real as can be! Jee- RJ- Reginald’s real popular.”

“Huh, that’s a first. I’m Charlie, Reggie’s uncle.”

They shake hands and Charlie lets him in. That’s when Bertie notices the man’s limp, his left leg bound in a cast. The inside of the apartment’s not much better than the outside, what with its cracked walls and tight space, but it’s as clean as places like that can get.

“Can I get you anything, Bertram? Water? Uh juice?”

“No, I’m good.” Then he adds, “Thank you.”

Charlie props himself on a sofa. He invites Bertie to sit before calling for Jeeves: “Reggie! Your friend’s here to see you!”

There’s no reply so Charlie turns to Bertie and says, “He’s in a mood. Just go to his room, right down the hall.”

Bertie respectfully thanks Uncle C. and makes his way to Jeeves’ room. He’s not sure what he expected in Jeeves’ dwelling- he supposes it’s logical Jeeves doesn’t live in some fancy castle. But Bertie does find the place a little underwhelming. He’s thought of Jeeves’ room a lot, what it might look like, and all that. He expects empty walls, maybe a painting here and there, and a bed that looks like nobody sleeps in it. But now Bertie realizes none of that matters.

Jeeves can live out of a cardboard box for all Bertie cares. He’ll always be Jeeves to Bertie, just Jeeves, c. as can be and B. Wooster’s very best mate. He knocks.

“J- Jeeves? It’s me, Bertram. I brought you soup. Oh crap. I brought you soup- I should probably give it to your uncle but I don’t want to bother him, with his leg and all, not that I want to bother you. I mean, I did come to bother you, but not like, in a bothering way-”

The door opens just enough to frame Bertie’s body and it feels like he’s face to face with Jeeves again after an eternity apart. The other boy only raises a fraction of a brow, which tells Bertie he’s rather surprised.

There’s a bandage taped over Jeeves’ nose and a blue shiner under his right eye. His hair’s as neatly combed as always and there isn’t a wrinkle on his clothes, though it’s surreal for Bertie to see him stand there in a T-shirt and jeans.

“Hello, Bertram.” It still sounds like Hello, sir , and oh, how Bertie’s missed that tone.

“Can I come in?”

“Of course.”

Jeeves steps aside, just enough for Bertie to step in, and shuts the door behind him. Jeeves’ room is warmer than Bertie imagined- the walls are a soft yellow with various awards pinned up and some job flyers taped here and there. There’s a bookcase filled to the brim across from Jeeves’ bed, neatly made as expected, and a table so organized it might as well have come out of Wall Street.

Wordless, Jeeves takes the soup and sets it on his table.

“Did you make this?”

“No, Coach B. did. I told him you had a cold.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem. I’m just glad you’re okay- you should have heard the things people were saying, man. Really gave me a heart attack. Spode and Stilton kept saying they put you in the hospital.”

“Hm.” Jeeves sits on the edge of the bed, and without invitation, Bertie plops down beside him.

“I suppose that’s my own fault. I did threaten to break their legs.”

“You what ? Jeeves, are you bally crazy!?”

“I was out of sorts yesterday. I said a lot of things I shouldn’t have. But the sight of their faces made me… mad.”

Bertie fidgets with his fingers. “Was- was it because of me, was it because of Bertram?”

Jeeves doesn’t say anything and that’s when Bertie knows. Everything he did the day before, it was all for Bertie. Every word and injury was all for him. And feeling very guilty, Bertie says, “Jeeves, I wanted to say this to you for a long time.”

He turns and looks Jeeves in those b.b eyes. “I’m sorry… for yesterday. And for everything else. I was a real idiot, man. You don’t have to be my friend anymore if you don’t want to, but I just wanted to tell you what we had- it meant the world to me. So thanks. And sorry. And I should go now.”

Bertie stands up. Then he feels a pressure on his wrist- Jeeves’ hand is holding his own.

“Bertram, wait. Upon further reflection, I’ve realized I was quite cruel to you too.”

Bertie must be dreaming because he sees a bout of almost nervousness in Jeeves’ eyes. The older boy doesn’t let go.

“I want to be your friend, Bertram. That is, if you’ll let me.”

Bertie sits back down, quite sure his eyes are watering. He sniffs. “What kind of question is that? Of course! You’re my best mate! Nobody else.”

Jeeves falls silent again before saying, “I’m… I’m not the most socially adept. At my last school, I was rather… ostracized. My mother used to worry about me in that respect, that is, before my parents, they...”

Jeeves’ words are slower than usual, not as smooth, and Bertie finally realizes it’s because he’s anxious. His own heart’s probably pounding as much as Jeeves’. Jeeves is opening up to him, to Bertie, of all people, and that alone’s enough to make Bertie feel like the most important person in the universe.

“My parents too,” Bertie blurts, “that’s why I’m with Aunt A. and sometimes Aunt D. and I know that’s why you’re with Uncle C. I know that, but now it’s not just Uncle C because-”

Because you have me.

The words don’t come out, but for some reason, Bertie’s sure Jeeves knows. Jeeves just knows these things. And so does Bertie.

“Bertram, meeting you has been the best thing that’s ever happened in my seventeen years of life.”

Time freezes. Bertie doesn’t know what to say or how to respond. Jeeves looks at him like they’re the only two people in the room, which is true, because they were the only two people in the room, but the only two people in one room in the whole world, where no other two people were. So all Bertie does is lean forward and throw his arms around Jeeves’ neck, pulling him into a not-so-heterosexual hug, and hopefully Jeeves won’t care.

And slowly, arms wrap around Bertie too. Jeeves’ arms.

XXX

After much crying on Bertie’s part, he finally musters the strength to ask Jeeves about his absence. The truth is those rumors did have some basis. Uncle Charlie (Silversmith) works as a handyman for the Deverills, who live across from Bertie’s community. He slipped and hurt his leg the night before, so not long after the fight with S & S (which Jeeves very clearly won), his nephew drove him to the hospital and took the morning off to care for him at home. It’s a fracture so Uncle C. should recover without too much complication and Jeeves won’t be too tight on money since he made the astute choice of saving up for emergencies.

Due to the strain of the night before, Jeeves slept past his usual wakeup time and Uncle C. called in for him at school. Jeeves did indeed mention this to Matthew Huang, but his uncle had been the one “under the weather” and not himself. That brought one of Bertie’s mysteries to a close.

Then Bertie tells Jeeves about Emerald’s note, S & S’s smug faces, Bingo’s wedding, and the school dance, and Jeeves listens to all of it with a passive face.

“So we’re, well I’m, in a real pickle because of these things,” Bertie finishes.

“Okay,” Jeeves says but it sounds more like I shall take care of it presently, sir .

“You think the police can find me if I run away?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Jeeves looks at the ceiling. “I’ll deliver Emerald’s note to Gussie on the day of the dance. Roderick and Stilton’s lies will fall apart as soon as I return to class. As for Bingo’s wedding, I’ll need a copy of your yearbook. And as far as your issues with homecoming go…”

Jeeves turns back to Bertie and says, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, “Will you allow me to be your date?”

“What?”

“Will you go to the dance with me, Bertram?”

“You mean.... as friends or-”

“As dates .”

Bertie grins so hard his face probably splits clean in half. “Of course I bally will.”

XXX

On the night of homecoming, Bertie’s phone notifies him so rapidly it almost breaks. Social media’s a riot that night, for more reasons than one. Rumor has it Stiffy said something to Madeline in the morning about how she shouldn’t string Gussie along, prompted by Pauline, prompted by Chuffy (who was tipped off by Stinky, who was guilted into it by Jeeves, not that anybody knows). And rightfully pissed, Madeline gave Gussie some scathing remarks at lunch.

Gussie went through a round of humiliation on twitter, with T.P informing Bertie about the latest updates on Gussie’s drama the whole day. He looked so sad even S & S left him alone. Bertie knows this is all part of Jeeves’ plan so it takes all his willpower not to spill the beans.

Honoria and Stilton have taken to leaving him alone, likely because of an anonymous source blackmailing them into compliance (somebody has a picture of Honoria picking her nose on their phone and hard evidence of Stilton taking part in Rocky’s junkie circle). The threats were sent to their emails, according to Florence and her eavesdropping skills, which she told Stiffy, which got overheard by Madeline. Sources say the picture was taken by Honoria’s younger brother and Stilton’s photo was given by Rocky himself. Coincidentally, Honoria’s little brother finished his essay on time that week (not that anybody noticed) and Rocky was given a pet hamster to keep him company in rehab (again, not that anybody noticed).

It’s a high-stakes day, but Bertie allows class to pass as usual, and spends the few hours before the dance starts picking out a good suit. He really wants to look good that night because he’ll be standing next to Jeeves, who might as well be a movie star. Even Aunt A.’s finally stopped scolding him now that she knows he has a date- who, he hasn’t said yet but Bertie insists it’s a surprise.

Bingo and Tuppy arrive first, Bingo’s fiancee dressed in a fishnet dress. Bertie sees it all through their facebook feeds and live instagram updates. Totleigh’s gymnasium is all decked out and no less than full-on ballroom, with black and white balloons and flashes of white light. Supposedly the DJ’s good, not that Bertie knows.

Tuppy: u coming man?

Bertie: ya just a bit late

Tuppy: gotta date?

Bertie: you’ll see

Tuppy: XD

The next bout of drama happens mere minutes into the dance. According to Florence’s livestream, Gussie burst into the dance, glasses off, declared himself over Madeline and cried, “Emerald, are you here!? I couldn’t see it before- my glasses were useless! But not now- I see it now, I see it now! It’s you- it’s always been you. Emerald, I like you!”

It’s really the coolest Gussie’s ever been, even though still quite cringey. But Emerald doesn’t care because then they take the spotlight and kiss on the spot. Of course, facebook explodes with “what abt bertie!?” And again, his phone kicks off.

Bingo: Bertie!! Gussie stole ur gf!!

Tuppy: Bertie!! wtf??? wtf?

But Bertie doesn’t respond. Because that’s when the climax of Jeeves’ plan comes to a head. The doors open and Bertram Wooster, in his finest navy striped suits, walks in, arms linked with school heartthrob, Reginald Jeeves, looking at each other like they’re absolutely in love.

Twitter combusts. Facebook explodes. Instagram dies.

Pauline: Em, u were his beard all along!??

Florence: I knew he had a thing for jeeves!11

Tuppy: HOLY SHIT

Bingo: YYYYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Honoria: bertie’s gay????

Stinky: maybe everyone’s gay 4 jeeves

When all eyes are on them, Jeeves counts to “three” and the spotlight shifts to a redheaded junior among the crowd,  just a touch shy enough to be sexy. And like everyone else, Bingo’s attention is jolted. It doesn’t surprise Bertie when Bingo breaks up with his goth girlfriend the very next day and divorces her with the divorce4life app. It also doesn’t surprise him when Tuppy begins courting Bingo’s ex the very next day.

But for now, Bertie doesn’t think about any of those things. The lights give way to dim blobs of blue and white, and he could care less if anyone’s looking or not. Some song is playing, but he’s not sure what. He can’t hear anything. Jeeves leads him into a little waltz and they disappear into the sidelines.

Bertie steps on his toes, pressing his forehead against Jeeves’ own. “Hey, RJ-”

“Bertram .”

“Just kidding, man.” He grins. “Jeeves, can I ask you something?”

“Do you like me? Like, like like me?”

Jeeves’ lips barely move, but Bertie can see a smile there. “Yes, very much so.”

“Then can I snog you?”

“Okay.” But it sounds like very well, sir . And Bertie would have it no other way.

Jeeves leans down as Bertie puts his lips against the other- no, his boyfriend’s own, and it’s the best, longest, and most bally amazing kiss a Wooster’s ever delivered and had, filled with all the thingyness in the world. And time stops in the best way ever. The best bally way.

XXX

He didn’t expect Totleigh to be different from every other school, though he did hope it proved to be more academically challenging. Uncle Charlie insisted he apply for the scholarship. And when the academy accepted him in spite of his “disadvantages,” Uncle Charlie insisted he leave Wayward behind and enroll in Totleigh.

It hadn’t been a hard decision, and save for a few teachers, he knew he wouldn’t be missed. The behavior of his peers never particularly bothered him and it wasn’t like he couldn’t hold his own against anyone who picked a fight, but he could confidently say he wouldn’t miss the apple cores tossed at his head or the daily threats against his person (not that anyone had ever managed anything except a few bumps and bruises).

On his first day of school, he committed the same mistakes as he did at Wayward, and only realized they were mistakes after the fact. He said little to his classmates, still couldn’t bring himself to break the formal ticks in his speech, and raised his hand for every answer. It was all force of habit and he admitted he was poor at breaking them.

He was, then, unsurprised when he overheard bits and pieces when a group of underclassmen discuss him, while he gathered his books at the end of school.

“Who’s that?”

“Who?”

“That one- the one with the book stack…”

“He’s the new kid… Jake or something. I think there’s something a little weird about him.”

They had said that about him at Wayward, so he knew they had no reason not to at Totleigh. Even so, he walked just a bit faster to escape school doors. And still, on the next day, he failed to curb his enthusiasm for hand-raising. He’d wanted a seat in the back but those were all taken, and left with no choice but the front row, he took the seat farthest right, hoping to stay out of his peers’ eyes.

And evidently, he failed again when he failed to resist the history teacher’s questions. When class ended, he was eager to collect his books and end the day, but a tap on the back stopped him.

He turned, only to see a grinning face. It belongs to a lanky boy with a head of soft hair, strands messily falling about his forehead and a grin in his sky blue eyes. It was the first time he had ever seen anyone look so awkward and yet so confident.

“Yes?” he asked, expecting some kind of insult thrown his way.

“I’m Bertram Wooster. You’re Jeeves, right?”

And then, he said, “I am.”

Bertram Wooster . It was in that one moment everything changed. And for a brief second, Reginald Jeeves wondered if maybe, just maybe he could come to like Totleigh Academy.