Wimseyfic: Proposition
Jun. 19th, 2012 09:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nineveh_ukIt being the summer session of ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
picowrimo I am supposed to be concentrating on the Wimsey/Potterverse crossover fic. Which is why having got the Botanical Gardens out of my head, I immediately started work on this.
It's Bunter and Viscount Saint-George, in a bedroom at the Mitre pub in Oxford, the night before Lord Peter's wedding...
Proposition
‘Are you out of your mind?’
This was not the response the Viscount had expected.
‘I say! There’s no need to be like that about it.’
‘Really?’ Bunter crossed hurriedly to the window and shut it, closed the curtains, and turned the key in the door.
‘That’s more like it,’ said Lord Saint-George, with what Bunter realised to his horror was a drunken attempt at a come-hither smile. This was what came of not imbibing more of the champagne himself. He clawed at his hair, seized Saint-George by the shoulders and put him forcibly into a chair, took the dressing table chair himself, and attempted to think rationally.
‘There’s no need to be rough,’ the Viscount went on. ‘I mean, unless you like it that way.’
Bunter reminded himself that a black eye in church tomorrow would help nobody.
‘Even,’ said Bunter, with what would have been a commendable effort to be calm had there been anybody present capable of commending it, ‘if I were the sort to fancy men – and may I make it absolutely plain to your lordship that I am not – and even supposing that I might be so misguided as to fancy your type, how can you possibly imagine that I would be so utterly stupid as to fuck my employer’s underage nephew in a public house bedroom the night before his wedding? Roughly or otherwise.’
‘If it were the night before my wedding’ said Saint-George, ‘I’d thank you for it.’
Bunter closed his eyes, before rapidly thinking better of it.
‘I only hope for the sake of your bride that your wedding is some way off.’
‘Nasty. Anyhow, I don’t see what the problem is. Uncle Peter’s fearfully open-minded you know.’
‘I see. So when I answer the bell a little late and say, ‘I’m so sorry, my lord, I didn’t hear the bell on account of having my John Thomas up your nephew’s arse,’ you expect him to shrug and say ‘Carry on, old chap’?’
‘Certainly not!’ said Saint-George, shocked. ‘Uncle Peter couldn’t be expected to put up with the bell not being answered. Besides, it wouldn’t happen; that’s not my thing at all, and he’s dead to the world thanks to that bromide you dosed him up with, and don’t think I don’t know what you –’
‘I strongly advise your lordship not to complete that sentence.’ Saint-George nodded dumbly from behind the hand covering his mouth and nose. Thumb and forefinger pinched sharply and then released. Bunter unlocked the door.
‘I am going to lock you in, my lord. It seems the safest way. I regret that the accommodation lacks a private bathroom, but there’s a chamber pot under the bed, and a water jug on the table. I suggest you make good use of them both. I am going to bed - alone.’ He hauled Saint-George the short distance from chair to bed, removed shoes, jacket, and after a moment’s consideration, trousers with professional speed, and made for freedom, pausing only to set the alarm clock for ten. A surprisingly steely hand grasped him around the wrist.
‘Look here, I’m sorry about misunderstanding and, well, I just wondered, would you otherwise? I mean, if I weren’t underage in a pub bedroom and Uncle Peter’s nephew and all that?’ The Viscount looked up at him from the pillow with a pathetic air, almost certainly entirely feigned.
‘No, my lord.’
‘Oh well, no harm in asking. Don’t forget to get me up in good time, or aren’t I allowed to say that?’
Bunter smiled despite himself. ‘Very good, my lord. I shall wake you at six o’clock for a cold bath.’
‘You’re a hard man, Bunter.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘I’m saying nothing,’ said Lord Saint-George.
picowrimo I am supposed to be concentrating on the Wimsey/Potterverse crossover fic. Which is why having got the Botanical Gardens out of my head, I immediately started work on this.It's Bunter and Viscount Saint-George, in a bedroom at the Mitre pub in Oxford, the night before Lord Peter's wedding...
Proposition
‘Are you out of your mind?’
This was not the response the Viscount had expected.
‘I say! There’s no need to be like that about it.’
‘Really?’ Bunter crossed hurriedly to the window and shut it, closed the curtains, and turned the key in the door.
‘That’s more like it,’ said Lord Saint-George, with what Bunter realised to his horror was a drunken attempt at a come-hither smile. This was what came of not imbibing more of the champagne himself. He clawed at his hair, seized Saint-George by the shoulders and put him forcibly into a chair, took the dressing table chair himself, and attempted to think rationally.
‘There’s no need to be rough,’ the Viscount went on. ‘I mean, unless you like it that way.’
Bunter reminded himself that a black eye in church tomorrow would help nobody.
‘Even,’ said Bunter, with what would have been a commendable effort to be calm had there been anybody present capable of commending it, ‘if I were the sort to fancy men – and may I make it absolutely plain to your lordship that I am not – and even supposing that I might be so misguided as to fancy your type, how can you possibly imagine that I would be so utterly stupid as to fuck my employer’s underage nephew in a public house bedroom the night before his wedding? Roughly or otherwise.’
‘If it were the night before my wedding’ said Saint-George, ‘I’d thank you for it.’
Bunter closed his eyes, before rapidly thinking better of it.
‘I only hope for the sake of your bride that your wedding is some way off.’
‘Nasty. Anyhow, I don’t see what the problem is. Uncle Peter’s fearfully open-minded you know.’
‘I see. So when I answer the bell a little late and say, ‘I’m so sorry, my lord, I didn’t hear the bell on account of having my John Thomas up your nephew’s arse,’ you expect him to shrug and say ‘Carry on, old chap’?’
‘Certainly not!’ said Saint-George, shocked. ‘Uncle Peter couldn’t be expected to put up with the bell not being answered. Besides, it wouldn’t happen; that’s not my thing at all, and he’s dead to the world thanks to that bromide you dosed him up with, and don’t think I don’t know what you –’
‘I strongly advise your lordship not to complete that sentence.’ Saint-George nodded dumbly from behind the hand covering his mouth and nose. Thumb and forefinger pinched sharply and then released. Bunter unlocked the door.
‘I am going to lock you in, my lord. It seems the safest way. I regret that the accommodation lacks a private bathroom, but there’s a chamber pot under the bed, and a water jug on the table. I suggest you make good use of them both. I am going to bed - alone.’ He hauled Saint-George the short distance from chair to bed, removed shoes, jacket, and after a moment’s consideration, trousers with professional speed, and made for freedom, pausing only to set the alarm clock for ten. A surprisingly steely hand grasped him around the wrist.
‘Look here, I’m sorry about misunderstanding and, well, I just wondered, would you otherwise? I mean, if I weren’t underage in a pub bedroom and Uncle Peter’s nephew and all that?’ The Viscount looked up at him from the pillow with a pathetic air, almost certainly entirely feigned.
‘No, my lord.’
‘Oh well, no harm in asking. Don’t forget to get me up in good time, or aren’t I allowed to say that?’
Bunter smiled despite himself. ‘Very good, my lord. I shall wake you at six o’clock for a cold bath.’
‘You’re a hard man, Bunter.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘I’m saying nothing,’ said Lord Saint-George.
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(no subject)
Date: 2012-06-20 12:36 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-06-20 11:02 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-06-19 09:36 am (UTC)My one quibble is that I don't think "underage" is a category that would enter into the discussion, given that no age is legal - he could be 100 and it would still be a crime - and also that, since Alan Turing used to have long earnest discussions about whether it was dishonourable to persist pursuing someone under the age of 15 if he rejected one's initial advances, Jerry would presumably be well past the age of consent from his own point of view. I'm not sure what you could erplace it with, though.
‘I’m so sorry, my lord, I didn’t hear the bell on account of having my John Thomas up your nephew’s arse,’ ’
I can just see Peter's face!
(no subject)
Date: 2012-06-19 10:07 am (UTC)I was going to put in an Author's Note on "underage" and then left it out. You are of course right that there's no age of consent for the sex. However Jerry is still underage in that he hasn't reached the age of majority* and given that Peter apparently feels himself, not without some awkwardness concerning his nephew's actual parents, to have some quasi-parental responsibilities** for Jerry, I would say that Bunter is allowed to take an imagined response of "You fucked my nephew, who is not legally an adult" into consideration in that quarter, even if this story (http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2010/feb/15/buggery-criminal-record?INTCMP=SRCH) suggests that the law wouldn't care that J. was under 21.
*I am going here on Peter's "next July" in GN meaning July 1936.
**Query: if Jerry had been 21, would Peter have taken a different attitude to the dud cheques?
(no subject)
Date: 2012-06-19 11:15 am (UTC)Of course Bunter's response is the only possible one, and it is magnificently typical of jerry that he should put him in such a ghastly situation in the first place (I love to hate Jerry). And I see your point about being under the age of majority - I suspect Peter might well have viewed the dud cheque business differently had Jerry been an adult, legally speaking.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-06-19 01:29 pm (UTC)Jerry is definitely the type only to see the opportunity side of the situation: here we are, he thinks, with a bedroom, not in a relative's house, no nosy servants, Uncle Peter safely knocked out, and nothing to do until the morning, why not make a pass at your Uncle's valet? And he is such fun to love to hate.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-06-19 11:23 am (UTC)*splutter* Ahaha!
(no subject)
Date: 2012-06-19 01:29 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-06-19 12:58 pm (UTC)My dear brother is here and I couldn't explain what was so funny.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-06-19 01:34 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-06-19 03:44 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-06-19 04:20 pm (UTC)*Though I am supposed to be sticking firmly in this fic to "Bunter actually is entirely straight and it is all in SG's imagination" somehow it gets away from me in the comments.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-06-19 06:46 pm (UTC)It's a sliding scale but Bunter isn't convinced that Jerry is someone worth er... sliding it for. It could cost him his job for a start and also he didn't think of it first. If he had, the circumstances would have been far better arranged. A bloke has his pride.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-06-19 08:25 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-06-19 08:49 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-06-19 08:59 pm (UTC)An inconvenient night in a pub bedroom with an unknown quantity just isn't worth losing ones job for. But I do have the calculation made explicitly in the current major WIP ;-)
(no subject)
Date: 2012-06-19 05:16 pm (UTC)He hauled Saint-George the short distance from chair to bed, removed shoes, jacket, and after a moment’s consideration, trousers with professional speed, and made for freedom, pausing only to set the alarm clock for ten.
I think you write Bunter/Saint-George very well, even if you don't do it very much. I seem to remember a bit of innuendo in a ficlet where Jerry has to ask Bunter for money to pay for an abortion? Anyway, the point is, we need more Wimseyslash from you.
‘I see. So when I answer the bell a little late and say, ‘I’m so sorry, my lord, I didn’t hear the bell on account of having my John Thomas up your nephew’s arse,’ you expect him to shrug and say ‘Carry on, old chap’?’
‘Certainly not!’ said Saint-George, shocked. ‘Uncle Peter couldn’t be expected to put up with the bell not being answered.
AHAHAHAHAHAHA.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-06-19 08:35 pm (UTC)You remember a fic aright - this one (http://nineveh-uk.livejournal.com/161575.html#cutid1). There was an ever so delicate hint of blackmail, or at least Bunter took it as such. I do honestly have a proper piece of B/S-G slash in the pipeline (even featuring actual y'know). Though goodness knows when I will get to it.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-06-19 05:53 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-06-19 08:04 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-06-19 08:05 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-06-19 08:36 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-06-19 08:58 pm (UTC)Oh Jerry! Now I want the scene when Bunter dresses him the next day!
-M
(no subject)
Date: 2012-06-20 09:06 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-06-19 10:08 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-06-20 09:09 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-06-20 09:18 pm (UTC)Oh dear. Every sentence of this is pure gold. This IS Bunter, and this IS St.George, and I've been reduced to puddles of squee.
I wonder if Peter will ever find out... and what he would say...
(no subject)
Date: 2012-06-21 01:21 pm (UTC)