Pride Before The Fall - An Endeavour fanfiction

[SimonWater]

I decided to write a fanfiction about the Endeavour series. If you don’t know it, feel free to look up the characters.
The story takes place in 1965.

***


“Oh, look everyone. The smart constable’s back. What a delight.”
That was the greeting Detective Constable Endeavour Morse received when he entered the main office at Cowley Police Station.
The mocking voice belonged to Detective Sergeant Peter Jakes, of course.
It was a strange thing about Morse and Jakes.
From the first time they'd met, Jakes had tried to pull at Morse's confidence and pride.
But Morse remained calm and mostly reacted just slightly annoyed.
He didn't respond to the teasing nearly as often as Jakes provoked it.
That left Jakes behind even more irate because he got the impression that his younger colleague was just snobby and thought himself better than others.
Jakes wasn't the type to pity people, on the contrary. He was even brimming with joy every time Morse got told off by Chief Superintendent Bright.
Neither of them could have known what incident was yet to come on that day which they had to face together.


***


Two hours had passed since Detective Inspector Fred Thursday had walked into the office and announced that they were going out to inspect a crime scene.
A small corner shop had been ripped off by some vandals who had knocked the shop owner out with a heavy blow on the head and tied him unconscious with a thick rope.
They’d stolen all the money and some of the products the shop offered.
Thursday had intended to send Mr Blake, the shop owner, to hospital after he’d thrown up violently, most likely suffering from a concussion caused by the hit.
But since he’d refused vehemently, Thursday had just ordered PC Strange to fetch Dr DeBryn instead.
He might have been a pathologist but he could tend to wounds and injuries just as well.
Morse and Jakes had continued to question all sort of people; first Mr Blake himself, then the neighbours and lastly, Thursday had sent them off to search for customers who had been to the shop on this day.

Mr Blake was able to tell them some customers' names and even some addresses because he knew some of the people very well.
And here they were, driving through Oxford, knocking on doors, questioning various people, taking notes, driving on.
At first, Peter Jakes had been a bit upset because Morse had insisted to drive himself and he had wanted to pick a fight just over something so trivial.
He was the sergeant after all, Morse was just a constable, only having joined the team two months ago.
But in the end he had refrained from making a snarky remark.
Probably, Thursday would just have picked Morse’s side again, as always.

But now, two hours later, Peter couldn’t deny that he was glad sitting in the passenger seat.
For half an hour now, he had felt the pressure in his bladder building up, a constantly nagging feeling that reminded him he’d definitely chugged down too much coffee this morning.
Actually he’d had intended to nip to the loo just moments before Thursday had told them they were going out.
Then, his pride wouldn’t let him mention that he needed to pee.
He wasn’t going to give Morse that satisfaction to give in to his human needs.
It was probably stupid but Peter knew that Morse was always perfect, efficient and diligent in his work, even working at the weekend and on his days off.
And never had he witnessed Morse being distracted from work by a human need.
So he wasn’t going to give that young constable the tiniest occasion to outdo him, even if it was about something as mundane as peeing.

“Are you alright?”
Morse’s voice snatched him from his thoughts and he quickly nodded.
“Of course I’m alright.”
But DS Jakes knew only too well that it wasn’t true and he also knew exactly why his colleague had asked in the first place.
During the last two minutes, Peter had started to bounce and wriggle his legs and shifting in the passenger seat, trying to find a more comfortable pose.
Of course his restlessness had been obvious to an observant person like Morse.
The DC parked the car at the side of a road next to a small house with a blue painted front door.
“You’re going to do the questioning on your own. I’m gonna stay here”, Peter told him.
Morse raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth to object.
Heaven, that was the last thing Peter could use at the moment.
His bladder was sending worrying signals and he felt numb around his groin area which left him unsure whether he had leaked a spurt of pee.
It felt like it but a quick glance downwards showed him that there was nothing visible on his suit trousers - at least something positive.
“I’ve already done it a million times, you haven’t. Go and do it by yourself to learn”, he said to Morse, almost snapping the command at him in a tense voice.
He needed to get the constable out of his way for a moment to focus on holding back the flood of piss that had filled his bladder up to the brim.
“Alright, whatever”, Morse commented and got out of the car, slowly walking towards the door, then knocking.

As soon as he was sure that Morse wouldn’t turn around again, DS Jakes pressed his thighs shut and slammed a hand into his crotch, heavily squeezing himself.
He’d never done that out on duty yet although there had been some desperate moments in his career so far.
But he’d always been able to contain himself, to hold it until he got back to the station or home.
But today?
He seriously started to doubt it and that made his heart thump with rising panic.
Suddenly, some drops of pee came out, dribbling into his underwear.
Holding his breath, he leaned forward, pinching his dick.
Luckily, there was no one on the street to see him and Morse was also still busy talking.
A minute later, Peter wasn’t even able to breathe normally, it became chopped and ragged, every breath seemed like torture.
Gingerly, he reached down and touched his lower abdomen, his eyes widening with the shock of what he felt.
His bladder was swollen, his abdomen tense to the touch.
He was sure, would he have looked at himself in a mirror, he would have seen his bladder bulging out very much.

“Sure you’re alright?”
Morse’s sudden reappearance in the car made Peter flinch and lose focus for a second.
That was enough for a lengthy spurt of warm pee to seep into his pants.
He pressed his legs shut once again, tucking himself between his thighs, clenching his urethra shut until he could stop leaking any more urine.
“I told you I’m fine.”
This time, he almost barked his response.
Yes, he disliked Morse and he wasn’t really friendly to him in general but now he almost felt ashamed of himself for being that rude.
“We’ve got two more on the list Mr Blake gave us”, Morse told him.
“Then hurry up a bit, will you. I’m not keen on spending the whole day on this tedious matter”, Peter said, barely recognising that Morse had already started driving.
He got painfully aware of that fact when the car hit a pothole, though.
The impact of it made Peter lose control again, pee kept spurting out and he desperately wanted to grab his crotch again but obviously couldn’t with Morse sitting right next to him.
He sucked in his breath and reached a hand into his trouser pocket, clamping his fingers around his penis to make himself stop pissing.
Hopefully this was discreet enough so his colleague wouldn’t notice.
Nothing would be more embarrassing than getting caught holding his crotch.
Well, nothing apart from…
Damn, he didn’t really want to think about that.
But the realisation came, albeit slowly, but it came nevertheless.
If I’m stuck out here for much longer, I’m gonna piss myself!

“Do you want me to handle the next questioning by myself too, for learning matters?”
Peter ignored the irony Morse put into the question and simply nodded, not saying anything.
It was only five minutes later and he felt like he was bursting.
He would start to urinate uncontrollably any minute now and they still had one person left on the list.
While constantly massaging and kneading his crotch, Peter craned his neck and locked up and down the street out of the car window.
No public lavatory, of course not.
He knew that there was none around that area but couldn’t help searching because he was hoping for a miracle.
He shuddered with the urgency of his need, feeling yet again trickles of urine coming out.
His underwear felt uncomfortably wet by now but luckily he decided to wear dark suit trousers today.
He’d given them a feel down, they weren’t damp yet and he hoped it wouldn’t be spotted that easily if he was to stain them a bit with piss.

Stain them a bit with piss?
Peter snorted silently.
What was he thinking?
How the hell was he going to stain them a bit with piss?
He was going to piss himself full force if he didn’t find a chance to relieve himself soon - very soon.
It was only a matter of around ten minutes or so, he thought.
Maybe even less, he wouldn’t be able to make it back to the station.
But what were his options?
Overridden by desperation, he leaned back, lifting his feet from the floor of the car, pulling his knees almost up to his chin for a second.
Curling himself into a hunched position seemed like some sort of last resort to keep holding although he knew that it was stupid.
If he moved or if he didn’t move, it didn't matter any longer, his bladder kept leaking drops and small spurts and he was going to wet himself either way.
If Morse would just hurry up but he was still busy taking notes, Peter observed.

One thought kept growing in his mind: He needed to ask for the toilet.
He wouldn’t be asking Morse, surely not.
Despite it being like admitting defeat in front of his colleague, there also wasn’t anything Morse could do about it.
There simply were no public toilets around and Peter certainly wouldn’t ask Morse to drive to one some kilometres away just because he couldn’t hold it.
But there was still one person left that needed to be questioned.
And maybe, just maybe Peter could ask to use their toilet.
He’d never done that before, he always wanted to appear professional and he disliked asking for favours but there simply was no other option.
Urinating in the street was off limits for a police officer, even if he was a detective and not in uniform, and the only other option… wetting himself, didn’t appeal to him at all.

“All done”, Morse said, starting the engine again.
“Right, just hurry”, Peter urged him and ignored that Morse shot him strange glances, probably wondering why the Sergeant kept urging him to hurry up.
Every time Morse had to slow the car down or sped up was pure agony for Peter.
It caused him to lose spurts again and he had both hands shoved deeply into his pockets, clasping his fingers around his penis.
He no longer cared if Morse noticed.
If he just wouldn’t pee himself.
I have to ask for the toilet. Damn it, I have to ask to use the toilet or I’m gonna wet myself.
These were the only thoughts circling through Peter’s mind.
Nothing else was important.
Three minutes later, Morse parked the car and announced: “We’re there.”
He had assumed that Jakes would make him go alone again and was surprised when he saw the Sergeant rising slowly.
Carefully, Peter climbed out of the car, all too aware of his full bladder being jostled around by the movement.
He wanted to squeeze his crotch, to cross his legs, to move around frantically but he did nothing.
Instead, he just followed Morse to the door.

Luckily, an elderly lady opened just after the first knock.
She greeted them, they showed their ID’s and she invited them in.
“I can’t stand outside for a whole questioning. The hip’s causing some trouble”, she explained and ushered them inside.
“Take a seat, I’ve just made some tea. I’ll get two cups for you”, she said.
“That’s very kind of you, but no need for that, Miss”, Peter had wanted to say but the words died away on his lips before he could utter them for two reasons.
The first was that Morse said: “Thank you very much, Miss.” (Peter wanted to slap him for saying that).
And the second was that a forceful stream of pee started to emerge from his bladder.
Peter instinctively bent over, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, clamping the flow of urine off in the last second before he had a full blown accident.
Morse didn’t notice, he’d already entered the living room and taken a seat at the sofa while Peter was busy fighting his predicament in the corridor.

Finally he’d managed to accomplish that and also sat down, shuffling his feet nervously, though.
The lady, Miss Hawkins, brought the tea and then sat down.
Peter took a tiny sip of tea just to be polite.
Then he put the cup down, stretched his back and braced himself for voicing his request.
“Actually, Miss, would you mind if I…”
But he was cut off mid-sentence by Morse starting to explain why they came to see her.
He couldn’t believe it.
How ignorant and arrogant could that young constable get?
He knew that it wasn’t Morse’s intention to let him suffer, probably Morse didn’t even realise that Peter was on the verge of wetting himself.
He wasn’t known for paying much attention to other people’s needs.
But now that Morse had started asking questions and Miss Hawkins was answering, Peter felt it was awkward to interrupt by asking if he could use her toilet.
So he just kept silent, praying it would be over fast.

Later, he didn’t recall how he managed to sit through those seven minutes (he’d counted every single second of the agonising ordeal).
His bladder ached and throbbed, he just wanted to release the torrent of piss inside him.
And then finally, they were back at the door, saying their goodbyes, walking towards the car.
Peter didn’t know how, it felt like it had been a copy of him who’d done all that.

Morse had almost reached the car when he turned around and found DS Jakes frozen to the spot about half a metre away.
“I thought you wanted to go back as quickly as possible”, Morse said but Peter didn’t answer.
He was done for it, he clearly felt it but he refused to believe it.
It couldn’t possibly end up like this, it just couldn’t.
But urine had started to spill into his pants in spurts that grew longer each second.
He didn’t care if Morse saw, he pinched his dick openly now, even with both hands but it was no use anymore.
The second Peter felt there was nothing he could do to avoid wetting himself in the street, he took a few fast, long strides towards the car and crouched down next to it.
This way he was at least a bit shielded from the public view, should someone walk or drive along.
The spurts grew more forceful, forcing their way through his urethra although he still tried to clamp himself off.
He just couldn’t admit defeat yet.
He wanted to extract his peeing penis from his trousers so to not fully soak them but even in the cover of the car he didn’t dare to do so. Instead, he let the stream keep pouring out of him forcefully.
Peter couldn’t hold it back any longer, the stream just grew more intense, gushing into his underwear, soaking it in no time.
The urine kept running to his backside, saturated his trousers and then just shot straight out of his crotch onto the pavement.
It wasn’t a subtle noise, the stream hit the ground with force, causing a loud pattering.
The piss pooled around his shoes, running under the car and creating a lake of urine.

Repeatedly, Peter squeezed his penis in the faint hope of being able to stop the flow midway through urinating.
No chance, there was nothing he could do instead of letting it happen.
He felt how his bladder grew lighter and the numbness around his groin subsided.
He felt the warm piss spreading everywhere, some trickles even managed to run down his legs into his shoes, wetting his socks.
All the while, Peter kept his eyes down, staring at his feet, not able to process what was just happening to him.
When he finally stopped urinating, he slowly raised his head and looked at Morse.
The constable stood there, half turned around as if he had intended to give Peter some space.
But he was looking at Jakes with an unwavering gaze, not even blinking for an unusually long time.
His facial expression remained neutral, however.
Never did he lose his polite, calm demeanour he carried when out on duty.

Morse opened his mouth to say something but Peter snapped at him: “No, I’m not alright! Might as well save yourself the question!”
“I wasn’t going to ask that”, Morse replied. “Why didn’t you just… say something?”
Peter snorted.
“And if I did? By tomorrow, everyone at the station would have known that Sergeant Jakes couldn’t keep himself together and had to find a loo because he needed to take a piss so badly out on duty.”
Peter’s voice was still irate but he realised that it wasn’t because he was upset with Morse but embarrassed and angry at himself.
Morse huffed slightly.
“Do you really think I have nothing better to do than gossip about a colleague needing to relieve himself while on duty?”
No, if he was honest, Peter didn’t.
Morse wasn’t the chatty kind of person, he didn’t talk to the other officers about private things.
But his frustration hadn’t subsided yet and Morse was the perfect target for his anger.

“Actually, I was about to ask Miss Hawkins if I could use her toilet. If you hadn’t interrupted me, none of this would have happened at all!”
Morse rolled his eyes and shook his head.
“Now you’re being ridiculous, don’t you think? It is certainly not my fault. And what are you going to do now? You need to get yourself sorted out somehow.”
With a sickening feeling Peter realised that he hadn’t even thought about that yet.
He was still crouching on the pavement, his wet clothes clinging onto him, the once warm fabric turning uncomfortably cold now.
Slowly, he straightened up and felt a trickle of now cold urine dribble down his legs.
“I suppose I should…”
The fact was he didn’t know what he should do.
Going back to the station would be too embarrassing.
Inspector Thursday was bound to make a remark, even if only once.
PC Strange was going to say something and he was going to gossip for sure.
And as for Chief Superintendent Bright; he would certainly ask Peter in detail what had happened and why.
Maybe he would write a report about it or send Peter to a physical examination to determine whether he was still fit for duty because he hadn’t managed to hold his bladder.

“Look, I can drive you to your flat and then tell Thursday that you suddenly weren’t feeling well or something like that”, Morse proposed.
“You would actually cover for me? You?”, Peter asked in disbelief.
Their dislike of each other was mutual, after all.
But Morse just shrugged.
“It is on the way back to the station, right? I’ll just drop you there and drive on. Nothing special.”
Peter nodded, then cleared his throat, gave himself a mental slap and just said: “Thanks.”

[Lee]

This is absolutely brilliant. I LOVE your stories.

I’ve been a big fan of Endeavour for a long time and so I can visualise all the characters. You have their characteristics and phraseology just perfect. The dialogue between Morse and Jakes is wonderful. Close your eyes and you can hear them saying the words. Awesome.

I love that Jakes got so desperate he wet himself in front of Morse. His building desperation is wonderful and I can just see him not being able to ask the old lady if he could use her toilet, even though he was on the verge of doing it in his pants and suit trousers.

And you know what? My absolute favourite scenario is when a young guy has to go so badly that he squats down - and wets himself whilst on his haunches.

Thanks for another brilliant read.

[Brian]

Unlike Lee I'm not familiar with Endeavour, but the way you describe the dynamic between Peter Jakes and Endeavour Morse and their individual personalities is so well done that I can picture them in my mind.

I love any story which shows how a stupid attempt to belittle a colleague leads to such a catastrophic downfall. And your description of Peter's sheer inability to swallow his pride and admit his need to his junior colleague is really great. While reading I found myself wondering exactly how the inevitable accident was going to occur. In the car? In Miss Hawkins' house? Great suspense there!

Just like Lee does, I want to thank you for another great story Simon.

[WetYs73]

You could only improve that by telling me he was wearing big white Y-fronts under those dark trousers. Oh yes...

[SimonWater]

Thanks everyone for your great feedback, I always appreciate it.

You could only improve that by telling me he was wearing big white Y-fronts under those dark trousers. Oh yes...

Since I don’t know what type of underwear was common in the 1960’s, I can’t tell you. I have no clue But yeah, maybe he did, who knows