Crossover fic: Captain America (movie) Jeeves (all fandoms) very G
The crossover that SHOULD NOT BE!
Captain America/ Wooster-verse
(And NO, that is not a ‘slash’ slash - just a crossover slash. Which is bad enough. No need making things worse.)
Please forgive me.
“They let just anybody in here?”
“Fresno, bud.” The man knocked the dog tags over his battered army shirt. His tone indicated he’d be willing to knock some cooperation into the previous speaker.
Jeeves considered that an excellent plan. The cooperation, mind, not the fisticuffs. They had need enough to fight, but not among each other.
“I should think?” he intervened, “the question is more - who shall they let out of here. I would prefer that the answer be - us. So if you would proceed swiftly towards the exit, collecting any weapons that our former captors have no more need for?
“Hey.” One of the American soldiers, from his position a comrade of the man from Fresno, pushed forward. “Who put you in charge here?”
Presumably, his majesty King George the fourth.“ Jeeves raised his arm, flashing the insignia at the top of his ruined jacket. The lower part had been sacrificed as a bandage for his torn ear, but enough of the top remained for recognition. “Sergeant Major Jeeves of the 17th. Any objections.”
“Nope. You’ll do.” The new man had the growl of a bulldog, and a face to match.
“Much gratified, Sergeant…?”
“Dugan. Dum-Dum Dugan.”
Which was unlikely the Staff Sergeant’s Christian name, unless his parents had been less Christian than the pair of inebriates who had inflicted ‘Bingo’ on Bertram’s chum. Still, he reminded himself, this was not the place - nor was there time - for irrelevant speculations. Speculations such as just where the blond man dressed as a clown had come from. Better - wiser - to focus on where the assembly here might be going to. Behind the Allied lines, for preference.
“Then if you will assist in prying open the doors on that side of the hall?” Jeeves pointed as he spoke. “I believe we can retrieve Lieutenant Fallsworth.”
“If you insist.” Dugan snarked, but he moved while mouthing off. That, Jeeves conceded, was about as much as a junior officer could expect in the way of support.
“I really must. While I may share your opinion of the common officer? Fallsworth is better than most.”
“Not hard,” Dugan grunted. At his hand signal, however, his men fell in. Between the four of them they soon had the rest of the cage doors open.
“He is also by way of being a … connection. The cousin of… a friend.” Not that Jeeves would have done less for any soldier of the King, but thoughts of Bertram’s worry added to duty an edge of personal investment.
Jeeves moved quickly, checking the young lieutenant’s pulse. It was thready, but the man seemed to be breathing evenly, and his chest appeared to move evenly - if shallowly - under the bruises. Ribs perhaps broken, but not displaced. It was likely they could move him without killing him. Not without great pain, Jeeves recognized, but pain was hardly a consideration when contrasted with remaining in the inhospitable hands of HYDRA. He sent up a brief prayer that whatever destruction the HYDRA scientism had inflicted on the young man would prove - if not uninjurious - then at least recoverable.
Dugan huffed, a gust of air huge enough to ruffle his ginger mustache. “Must be OK, seeing how these HYDRA guys beat extra shit out of him.”
“He shared his water with his men. HYDRA soldier took offense.”
“Lemmie guess. He took offense to their taking offense.”
“Their response to which was very offensive indeed.” Jeeves pointed towards the opening outer door, instructing two of the men to carry their unconscious officer. The men joined in the outward rush, Jeeves and Dugan bringing up the rear to command what order they could in the rabble of mixed forces and to insure that none of the worst wounded were forgotten in the escape.
“Yeh. Well these HYDRA blokes offend me, period.” Dugan kicked one of the onrushing HYDRA guards in the hip, forcing him onto Jeeve’s oncoming fist.
Jeeves shook the impact from his hand. “All the more reason to decline their hospitality.”
“Don’t think their going to accept a ‘sorry chaps, must toddle’.” Now in possession of the HYDRA soldier’s pistol, Dugan used it to take down the rest of the squad.
“Then we shall just have to make our own exit.”
In front of them, one of the Polish prisoners had managed to pry open an outside window. Though it they could see the battle raging around the rows of tanks.
“Nothing new to me.” Dugan lifted himself over the sash. “I’ve had to skip on the landlord in my day. Bit of a new thing for a toff like you, I’d bet.”
Bullets plunked around him.
“You’d be quite wrong.” Jeeves accepted a rifle from a Frenchman in civilian rags, who had moments before ‘liberated’ it from a HYDRA guard. Spotting though the scope, he picked off a tower guard. Dozens of men rushed though the now-defended opening, swarming the HYDRA vehicles. “Actually, this rather reminds me of some of my … gentleman’s … livelier holidays back home.”
__( )__
!@!!@!
~~
DISCLAIMER: The first two lines are taken from Captain America: The First Avenger. [Rather obviously.]
Captain America/ Wooster-verse
(And NO, that is not a ‘slash’ slash - just a crossover slash. Which is bad enough. No need making things worse.)
Please forgive me.
“They let just anybody in here?”
“Fresno, bud.” The man knocked the dog tags over his battered army shirt. His tone indicated he’d be willing to knock some cooperation into the previous speaker.
Jeeves considered that an excellent plan. The cooperation, mind, not the fisticuffs. They had need enough to fight, but not among each other.
“I should think?” he intervened, “the question is more - who shall they let out of here. I would prefer that the answer be - us. So if you would proceed swiftly towards the exit, collecting any weapons that our former captors have no more need for?
“Hey.” One of the American soldiers, from his position a comrade of the man from Fresno, pushed forward. “Who put you in charge here?”
Presumably, his majesty King George the fourth.“ Jeeves raised his arm, flashing the insignia at the top of his ruined jacket. The lower part had been sacrificed as a bandage for his torn ear, but enough of the top remained for recognition. “Sergeant Major Jeeves of the 17th. Any objections.”
“Nope. You’ll do.” The new man had the growl of a bulldog, and a face to match.
“Much gratified, Sergeant…?”
“Dugan. Dum-Dum Dugan.”
Which was unlikely the Staff Sergeant’s Christian name, unless his parents had been less Christian than the pair of inebriates who had inflicted ‘Bingo’ on Bertram’s chum. Still, he reminded himself, this was not the place - nor was there time - for irrelevant speculations. Speculations such as just where the blond man dressed as a clown had come from. Better - wiser - to focus on where the assembly here might be going to. Behind the Allied lines, for preference.
“Then if you will assist in prying open the doors on that side of the hall?” Jeeves pointed as he spoke. “I believe we can retrieve Lieutenant Fallsworth.”
“If you insist.” Dugan snarked, but he moved while mouthing off. That, Jeeves conceded, was about as much as a junior officer could expect in the way of support.
“I really must. While I may share your opinion of the common officer? Fallsworth is better than most.”
“Not hard,” Dugan grunted. At his hand signal, however, his men fell in. Between the four of them they soon had the rest of the cage doors open.
“He is also by way of being a … connection. The cousin of… a friend.” Not that Jeeves would have done less for any soldier of the King, but thoughts of Bertram’s worry added to duty an edge of personal investment.
Jeeves moved quickly, checking the young lieutenant’s pulse. It was thready, but the man seemed to be breathing evenly, and his chest appeared to move evenly - if shallowly - under the bruises. Ribs perhaps broken, but not displaced. It was likely they could move him without killing him. Not without great pain, Jeeves recognized, but pain was hardly a consideration when contrasted with remaining in the inhospitable hands of HYDRA. He sent up a brief prayer that whatever destruction the HYDRA scientism had inflicted on the young man would prove - if not uninjurious - then at least recoverable.
Dugan huffed, a gust of air huge enough to ruffle his ginger mustache. “Must be OK, seeing how these HYDRA guys beat extra shit out of him.”
“He shared his water with his men. HYDRA soldier took offense.”
“Lemmie guess. He took offense to their taking offense.”
“Their response to which was very offensive indeed.” Jeeves pointed towards the opening outer door, instructing two of the men to carry their unconscious officer. The men joined in the outward rush, Jeeves and Dugan bringing up the rear to command what order they could in the rabble of mixed forces and to insure that none of the worst wounded were forgotten in the escape.
“Yeh. Well these HYDRA blokes offend me, period.” Dugan kicked one of the onrushing HYDRA guards in the hip, forcing him onto Jeeve’s oncoming fist.
Jeeves shook the impact from his hand. “All the more reason to decline their hospitality.”
“Don’t think their going to accept a ‘sorry chaps, must toddle’.” Now in possession of the HYDRA soldier’s pistol, Dugan used it to take down the rest of the squad.
“Then we shall just have to make our own exit.”
In front of them, one of the Polish prisoners had managed to pry open an outside window. Though it they could see the battle raging around the rows of tanks.
“Nothing new to me.” Dugan lifted himself over the sash. “I’ve had to skip on the landlord in my day. Bit of a new thing for a toff like you, I’d bet.”
Bullets plunked around him.
“You’d be quite wrong.” Jeeves accepted a rifle from a Frenchman in civilian rags, who had moments before ‘liberated’ it from a HYDRA guard. Spotting though the scope, he picked off a tower guard. Dozens of men rushed though the now-defended opening, swarming the HYDRA vehicles. “Actually, this rather reminds me of some of my … gentleman’s … livelier holidays back home.”
__( )__
!@!!@!
~~
DISCLAIMER: The first two lines are taken from Captain America: The First Avenger. [Rather obviously.]