fic rec
The Winter of Our Discontent, Part I: This Sun of York, by lareinenoire and rosamund. Doctor Who, Ten & Jack, PG-13. I'll quote their warning, because it made me laugh: "Some violence, drunkenness, Jack Harkness behaving like Jack Harkness, implied debauchery, implied slash, bad chronicle jokes, very bad Shakespeare jokes, and possibly educational footnotes." Ten and Jack do the Wars of the Roses. There are robots involved. Wackiness ensues.
"Clockwork what?" Ned and Will chorused. Ned was the first to recover, motioning for the guards to leave before closing the door. Turning back to the Doctor, he raked mussed blond hair out of his eyes before speaking again. "Clocks don't talk. Let alone hold theological arguments. What on earth are you talking about?"
"You have clocks," the Doctor said, grinning like a hyperactive five-year-old. "I thought I'd have to explain clockwork but you already have clocks. Humans are amazing, really."
"Of course we have clocks," Ned replied in confusion. "We've had them for years. Not in Wigmore, I'm afraid, but..." He stopped short. "Wait. How do clocks relate to the...Margaret?"
"Clockwork robots. Men. From another time."
Jack added, "Helping her for reasons as yet undetermined. You have spies in her camp?"
"Of course I..." Ned looked back and forth between Jack and the Doctor, as if trying to ascertain whether or not they were real. "Actually, I don't think I will ask. Not yet. I knew she was gathering men and has been since..." he bit his lip, "for about a month now. And she'll make her way to London sooner or later. I had planned to do the same, but we heard rumours of another army massing over the border and thought we ought to look into that first."
It was working. The spell the Doctor cast over mere mortals--and those not so mortal--was fully in effect once more and apparently that meant a lack of flirting from this rather delicious-looking young man. Jack sighed and tried not to pout.
"Clockwork what?" Ned and Will chorused. Ned was the first to recover, motioning for the guards to leave before closing the door. Turning back to the Doctor, he raked mussed blond hair out of his eyes before speaking again. "Clocks don't talk. Let alone hold theological arguments. What on earth are you talking about?"
"You have clocks," the Doctor said, grinning like a hyperactive five-year-old. "I thought I'd have to explain clockwork but you already have clocks. Humans are amazing, really."
"Of course we have clocks," Ned replied in confusion. "We've had them for years. Not in Wigmore, I'm afraid, but..." He stopped short. "Wait. How do clocks relate to the...Margaret?"
"Clockwork robots. Men. From another time."
Jack added, "Helping her for reasons as yet undetermined. You have spies in her camp?"
"Of course I..." Ned looked back and forth between Jack and the Doctor, as if trying to ascertain whether or not they were real. "Actually, I don't think I will ask. Not yet. I knew she was gathering men and has been since..." he bit his lip, "for about a month now. And she'll make her way to London sooner or later. I had planned to do the same, but we heard rumours of another army massing over the border and thought we ought to look into that first."
It was working. The spell the Doctor cast over mere mortals--and those not so mortal--was fully in effect once more and apparently that meant a lack of flirting from this rather delicious-looking young man. Jack sighed and tried not to pout.