Birthday Fic-Snippet for Zekkass!
First off, happy birthday! Thank you for almost over half a decade of your friendship, creativity, and experiences.
Almost over half a decade. Hell, it's been more than 5 years...
holy crap!
Sadly, i can't repay you with as epicness as you've given me, so here's a small bit of fic from the prompt you gave me.
Title: (None yet)
Fandom: SPN/Jeeves & Wooster
Characters: Gabriel, Jeeves, Bertie (slightly onesided J/W for now), Castiel, Sam, Dean
Summary: Jeeves and Gabriel swap bodies. Let's see how they cope with that.
Warnings: POV switching (Third to first person), Unbeta'ed, and incomplete)
It wasn’t as though I went around categorizing the scent of my manservant, but I liked to think it was rather common knowledge that Jeeves had a certain scent. Jeeves smelled clean and polished, and not a bit like the fish he must consume for that brain of his.
To me, though, it was a bit more than that. To me, the smell of Jeeves was synonymous with safety, comfort, companionship and home. So, when Jeeves came home from his annual holiday, I was sure I could be forgiven when I realized something was off.
Jeeves didn’t smell clean or polished. He smelled sweet and a bit heady.
Jeeves, my paragon, smelled like he had oiled his pores with chocolate.
“Ah, Jeeves,” I rose from my chair, after digesting this odd bit of information. “You’re back.”
“I am,” Jeeves replied-and wasn’t that just rum. No ‘sir’ or ‘indeed, sir’ whatsoever. Odder, still, was that I was sure I had scarcely blinked, when Jeeves’ hat went from being on top of Jeeves’ head, to the hat rack.
“Right,” I said. “Well, then. Welcome home.”
And Jeeves, if the reader would forgive my language, bloody grinned.
~~
“I still say we check for possession,” Sam muttered from the foot of the bed, watching Dean pace.
Castiel frowned from his spot at the window, as if the view of the brick wall opposite their motel room held all the answers, but said nothing.
“How could an archangel be possessed?” Dean asked. “I mean, there has to be some kind of fail proof setting against that. I’m not putting it off the table, here, but Gabriel’s acting…”
“Lunch is ready, sirs,” Gabriel stood in the doorway, expression solemn, humorless, head tilted slightly. “I’ve taken the liberty of using the room’s amenities and procuring two whiskey and sodas for the Winchesters, and a cola for you, Castiel.”
Dean and Sam exchanged a wary look, while Cas’ trenchcoat tightened marginally under his trenchcoat in an uneasy show of tension.
“Gabriel,” Sam said, grabbing a coke that had been sitting on his endtable for about an hour. “You’re kind of running yourself to the ground. I mean, we haven’t even needed room service because you’ve kept this room spotless, and…”
“Dude,” Dean interjected. “Take a load off, and have a drink.”
Gabriel just looked at them, and inclined his head in acknowledgement.
Almost over half a decade. Hell, it's been more than 5 years...
holy crap!
Sadly, i can't repay you with as epicness as you've given me, so here's a small bit of fic from the prompt you gave me.
Title: (None yet)
Fandom: SPN/Jeeves & Wooster
Characters: Gabriel, Jeeves, Bertie (slightly onesided J/W for now), Castiel, Sam, Dean
Summary: Jeeves and Gabriel swap bodies. Let's see how they cope with that.
Warnings: POV switching (Third to first person), Unbeta'ed, and incomplete)
It wasn’t as though I went around categorizing the scent of my manservant, but I liked to think it was rather common knowledge that Jeeves had a certain scent. Jeeves smelled clean and polished, and not a bit like the fish he must consume for that brain of his.
To me, though, it was a bit more than that. To me, the smell of Jeeves was synonymous with safety, comfort, companionship and home. So, when Jeeves came home from his annual holiday, I was sure I could be forgiven when I realized something was off.
Jeeves didn’t smell clean or polished. He smelled sweet and a bit heady.
Jeeves, my paragon, smelled like he had oiled his pores with chocolate.
“Ah, Jeeves,” I rose from my chair, after digesting this odd bit of information. “You’re back.”
“I am,” Jeeves replied-and wasn’t that just rum. No ‘sir’ or ‘indeed, sir’ whatsoever. Odder, still, was that I was sure I had scarcely blinked, when Jeeves’ hat went from being on top of Jeeves’ head, to the hat rack.
“Right,” I said. “Well, then. Welcome home.”
And Jeeves, if the reader would forgive my language, bloody grinned.
~~
“I still say we check for possession,” Sam muttered from the foot of the bed, watching Dean pace.
Castiel frowned from his spot at the window, as if the view of the brick wall opposite their motel room held all the answers, but said nothing.
“How could an archangel be possessed?” Dean asked. “I mean, there has to be some kind of fail proof setting against that. I’m not putting it off the table, here, but Gabriel’s acting…”
“Lunch is ready, sirs,” Gabriel stood in the doorway, expression solemn, humorless, head tilted slightly. “I’ve taken the liberty of using the room’s amenities and procuring two whiskey and sodas for the Winchesters, and a cola for you, Castiel.”
Dean and Sam exchanged a wary look, while Cas’ trenchcoat tightened marginally under his trenchcoat in an uneasy show of tension.
“Gabriel,” Sam said, grabbing a coke that had been sitting on his endtable for about an hour. “You’re kind of running yourself to the ground. I mean, we haven’t even needed room service because you’ve kept this room spotless, and…”
“Dude,” Dean interjected. “Take a load off, and have a drink.”
Gabriel just looked at them, and inclined his head in acknowledgement.