Mighty Time Lords
Title: Mighty Time Lords: A Mighty Boosh/Doctor Who AU of sorts
by cruelest_month
Summary: AU request from severa - Howard and Vince as Time Lords interacting with the Doctor.
Author's Note: Unbeta'd. Someday I might write a sequel with Donna in it, but here's what I've written so far.
Word count: 1,836 words
Vince had the habit of constantly picking up shiny things that didn’t belong to him and playing with them for hours on end so initially Howard couldn’t have cared much less about the other man’s latest acquisition. Some lockets or friendship charms, he thought, but once again the eraser grove was in shambles and with great authority, came great responsibility. The liberation and betterment of office supplies was generally of greater consequence than Vince stumbling upon something useless or seeming harmless but really potentially lethal. Or a combination of the two.
A few minutes later, the Jazz Maverick was sighing wearily under his breath as Vince started nattering on about them. “I reckon there’s bits of hair inside of ‘em. Like from lovers. That would be genius.”
Why couldn’t just one man or lady show up in tweed show up and request an elbow patch in profound muffin? “Really,” Howard muttered instead, slumping against the counter.
“Or a picture of someone’s mum. Maybe Naboo’s mum. I bet she’s well hideous. She probably looks like him in a bad wig with a walker.”
“I don’t know if Naboo would appreciate you messing about in his cupboards, yeah? Or saying his mother is ugly. You have to think before you say things, Vince.”
“I don’t like thinking. Look at you. Your beady little eyes are exhausted and in a few minutes you’ll be hiding your face in a Jazz LP and crying. Thinking makes your face cave in on itself and gives you bad posture.”
Howard straightened up and made an effort to ignore Vince for a few minutes.
“Howard.”
He didn’t answer.
“Howard. Howard. Howard?”
But he knew where all this was going so eventually he relented. “What?”
“Do you want to keep one of them?”
Raising an eyebrow at this, Howard blinked. Vince Noir sharing something shiny that he’d found lying on the floor or in a bureau somewhere wasn’t something that happened on a regular or even infrequent basis. Yet here he was offering up one of the strangely pocket-watch-shaped trinkets with a fairly earnest almost sweet expression. “What?”
“Well, there’s two, right?” Vince waited patiently until Howard nodded. “They match and it’s not like earrings, is it? They could be best friend woss-names.”
“You just want me to get in trouble when Naboo comes back.” Suspecting Vince of being up to something was generally a cleverly conceived notion, but Howard always felt rotten about his paranoia or well-placed caution seemed to put a damper on things. In this case, Vince all but wilted and started sulking silently. “Oh come on, little man. You do things like that all the time.”
“But not this time. Really, Howard. You’re my best friend.”
“Give me the other… whatever-it-is then.”
Vince handed it over and set his down on the counter before hopping up onto it. His legs swung back and forth and Howard found himself staring at them for awhile before focusing on the ridiculous glittery blue boots on his best friend’s feet.
“Now we have matching lockets. This is exciting, isn’t it? Like getting married.”
Howard almost threw the locket at him but he refrained. Instead he could feel his eyes darting back and forth like flies caught in a window screen. “What?”
“When people get married they get matching things.”
“They get rings. And cake.”
“We could go get cake.”
“Vince, this is not like getting married. At all. Besides, jazz mavericks don’t get married. It’s not in our blood.”
“I think you’ll find that most people get married.”
“Right. I’m not most people. I’m the James Bond of the Jazz World.”
Vince giggled. “No way. There isn’t a Jazz World, and the closest you’ve been to James Bond is that creepy cardboard cutout you have of George Lazenby.”
“How dare you. I am very much the Bond of Jazz, and Bond never got married. Marriage wasn’t for him and it isn’t for me. I’m Howard Moon. I loves the ladies and I shags them and then I leaves them, sir.”
It was always easy to tell when Vince was thinking hard about something. He always started to look a little cross-eyed and fatigued. “Some of that is true.”
“Thank you.”
“Some of it, mind,” Vince pointed out gently before getting off the counter. “But you’ll just get angry if I say what parts aren’t, and I want to open them.”
This was a rare and tactful move that briefly left Howard too confused to remember what they had even been talking about. “Open what?”
Brushing back a strand of hair, Vince rolled his eyes. “The lockets, Howard. Hello.”
“Ah. You know, I think they might be watches, actually. Old pocket watches are very big in the jazz scene. Lester Corncrake always sai--”
“It doesn’t matter,” Vince insisted before beaming. “Can we open them? Please, Howard?”
“I suppose there isn’t any real harm in it.” Howard could easily recall what happened with that star-shaped locket incident on Planet Xooberon, but while all of their adventures had similar elements to them, he doubted the same thing could happen twice.
Nothing much changed exactly but a few seconds after opening them, Howard remember what chameleon arches were, and he wondered why his and Vince’s had always been so faulty. They’d still remembered what Daleks were, after all, and time had always gone a little weird around them in ways that it didn’t around actual humans.
Vince seemed a little more dazed by the flood of new information and old memories. After watching him thoughtfully for a few seconds, Howard hugged him, toying with the other man’s hair without even asking. He didn’t mind much that Vince was clinging to him since he was fairly certain his grip on Vince’s shoulder was slowly verging on painful.
“How’s my hair look?”
Howard glanced down and chuckled. “It’s the same.”
“Well, that’s something.”
“How long ago did we give those to Naboo? Do you remember?”
“Not the exact date,” Vince admitted, looking up and smiling thinly. “I never had a head for figures. Must have been ages. It feels like three lifetimes ago and that can’t be right. We’re still on our first lives.”
“Early days,” Howard agreed, loosening his grip a little but not moving away. This was nice. He wondered why they’d given this part of everything but and he supposed it was just a matter of not thinking. And it wasn’t like they still hadn’t been joined at the hip even when they’d thought of themselves only as zookeepers or shopkeepers.
The bell above the door rang as someone entered the shop, letting the door bang behind him or her. It was only a quarter past one, and among all the other countless things that Howard hadn’t expected to deal with that day including rediscovering that he was a Time Lord, was the arrival of a customer in a profound muffin trench coat. Even at that moment Howard would have gladly offered him a glimpse of his line of elbow patches except for one thing. One thing that pretty much made his perfect sales pitch die before it could come out of his mouth.
“Howard, he’s the Doctor!” Vince blurted out excitedly.
“There wasn’t anything and then there were two of you,” The Doctor said with a grin. “Imagine that.”
“I can’t believe you’re in here. We read all about you at the Academy, but then we left and we never managed to find you. And you’re here!”
Howard tried to stop Vince from latching onto the older Time Lord, but it didn’t really work and it seemed like the Doctor didn’t exactly mind. Howard minded though. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of his childhood hero or watch Vince do so instead.
Vince hadn’t stopped talking though and the Doctor seemed to still be listening. He also seemed to be interested. Maybe the Doctor didn’t get out that much now that he was so far along in his regenerations. “And it’s been so weird because we just remembered everything.”
The smile turned a bit more serious somehow, but the Doctor just gently hugged Vince back before letting him go and adjusting the collar of Vince’s newest Topshop shirt. Then he glanced over at Howard. “Hello.”
Howard cleared his throat. He nearly saluted, but he was positive Vince would giggle. Since that would only serve to make him feel like a knob, he refrained. “Hello, sir.”
“No need for that. Just call me the Doctor. Look at you. You’re so young.”
Howard colored a little and mumbled something.
Vince just kept on beaming like a little fluorescent light bulb or newborn star. “I can't believe you're here," he declared. "We’re friends with a shaman from Xooberon and he was watching our arches. Only I think we forget about them. But it’s been genius. We found the funk in a box and we worked at a zoo. It was genius. Howard died once and went to Monkey Hell.”
“Vince, you’re getting the order all jumbled up.”
“So am I, actually,” The Doctor murmured. “I forgot all about learning your names. Tell me those first and then I want to know more about this Monkey Hell business.”
“Then you have to tell us about Gallifrey,” Vince insisted and Howard lightly pinched Vince’s arm when he saw the expression on the other man’s face. “Oi.”
“Shut up, Vince. Anyway, I’m Howardmoon and this is Vinceladhwencamthalionaranenoir. But we’ve just been Howard and Vince for a long time now.”
“I can’t imagine why you shortened Vince’s name,” The Doctor teased. Mostly for their benefit Howard thought. Something seemed off now and Howard couldn’t really think of a way to fix it.
“Why can’t he tell us?” Vince asked in what he probably thought was in a hushed tone, but was actually quite loud and bordered on a whine. “I want to know.”
“It can wait, yeah?” The Doctor suggested, not looking comfortable, but not looking too upset. He had his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat and he eyed the exit to the store thoughtfully before looking back at them. “I have a friend with me. She’s minding the TARDIS and I’m sure she’ll want to meet you,” he added with a small smile.
Howard nodded, giving Vince a firm look and a sharp nudge. “Let’s do that then.”
Vince rubbed his side and rolled his eyes before following the Doctor out the door.
News of their home planet -the one that hadn’t really wanted two forward-thinking musicians in the first place- could certainly wait until later. Howard was more eager to spend time in another TARDIS since theirs was broken anyway and buried somewhere in Naboo's attic underneath a heap of Christmas decorations or whatever other rubbish the shaman kept up there. Besides, he wanted to see about impressing the Doctor’s current companion with his dazzling wit and repartee.
by cruelest_month
Summary: AU request from severa - Howard and Vince as Time Lords interacting with the Doctor.
Author's Note: Unbeta'd. Someday I might write a sequel with Donna in it, but here's what I've written so far.
Word count: 1,836 words
Vince had the habit of constantly picking up shiny things that didn’t belong to him and playing with them for hours on end so initially Howard couldn’t have cared much less about the other man’s latest acquisition. Some lockets or friendship charms, he thought, but once again the eraser grove was in shambles and with great authority, came great responsibility. The liberation and betterment of office supplies was generally of greater consequence than Vince stumbling upon something useless or seeming harmless but really potentially lethal. Or a combination of the two.
A few minutes later, the Jazz Maverick was sighing wearily under his breath as Vince started nattering on about them. “I reckon there’s bits of hair inside of ‘em. Like from lovers. That would be genius.”
Why couldn’t just one man or lady show up in tweed show up and request an elbow patch in profound muffin? “Really,” Howard muttered instead, slumping against the counter.
“Or a picture of someone’s mum. Maybe Naboo’s mum. I bet she’s well hideous. She probably looks like him in a bad wig with a walker.”
“I don’t know if Naboo would appreciate you messing about in his cupboards, yeah? Or saying his mother is ugly. You have to think before you say things, Vince.”
“I don’t like thinking. Look at you. Your beady little eyes are exhausted and in a few minutes you’ll be hiding your face in a Jazz LP and crying. Thinking makes your face cave in on itself and gives you bad posture.”
Howard straightened up and made an effort to ignore Vince for a few minutes.
“Howard.”
He didn’t answer.
“Howard. Howard. Howard?”
But he knew where all this was going so eventually he relented. “What?”
“Do you want to keep one of them?”
Raising an eyebrow at this, Howard blinked. Vince Noir sharing something shiny that he’d found lying on the floor or in a bureau somewhere wasn’t something that happened on a regular or even infrequent basis. Yet here he was offering up one of the strangely pocket-watch-shaped trinkets with a fairly earnest almost sweet expression. “What?”
“Well, there’s two, right?” Vince waited patiently until Howard nodded. “They match and it’s not like earrings, is it? They could be best friend woss-names.”
“You just want me to get in trouble when Naboo comes back.” Suspecting Vince of being up to something was generally a cleverly conceived notion, but Howard always felt rotten about his paranoia or well-placed caution seemed to put a damper on things. In this case, Vince all but wilted and started sulking silently. “Oh come on, little man. You do things like that all the time.”
“But not this time. Really, Howard. You’re my best friend.”
“Give me the other… whatever-it-is then.”
Vince handed it over and set his down on the counter before hopping up onto it. His legs swung back and forth and Howard found himself staring at them for awhile before focusing on the ridiculous glittery blue boots on his best friend’s feet.
“Now we have matching lockets. This is exciting, isn’t it? Like getting married.”
Howard almost threw the locket at him but he refrained. Instead he could feel his eyes darting back and forth like flies caught in a window screen. “What?”
“When people get married they get matching things.”
“They get rings. And cake.”
“We could go get cake.”
“Vince, this is not like getting married. At all. Besides, jazz mavericks don’t get married. It’s not in our blood.”
“I think you’ll find that most people get married.”
“Right. I’m not most people. I’m the James Bond of the Jazz World.”
Vince giggled. “No way. There isn’t a Jazz World, and the closest you’ve been to James Bond is that creepy cardboard cutout you have of George Lazenby.”
“How dare you. I am very much the Bond of Jazz, and Bond never got married. Marriage wasn’t for him and it isn’t for me. I’m Howard Moon. I loves the ladies and I shags them and then I leaves them, sir.”
It was always easy to tell when Vince was thinking hard about something. He always started to look a little cross-eyed and fatigued. “Some of that is true.”
“Thank you.”
“Some of it, mind,” Vince pointed out gently before getting off the counter. “But you’ll just get angry if I say what parts aren’t, and I want to open them.”
This was a rare and tactful move that briefly left Howard too confused to remember what they had even been talking about. “Open what?”
Brushing back a strand of hair, Vince rolled his eyes. “The lockets, Howard. Hello.”
“Ah. You know, I think they might be watches, actually. Old pocket watches are very big in the jazz scene. Lester Corncrake always sai--”
“It doesn’t matter,” Vince insisted before beaming. “Can we open them? Please, Howard?”
“I suppose there isn’t any real harm in it.” Howard could easily recall what happened with that star-shaped locket incident on Planet Xooberon, but while all of their adventures had similar elements to them, he doubted the same thing could happen twice.
Nothing much changed exactly but a few seconds after opening them, Howard remember what chameleon arches were, and he wondered why his and Vince’s had always been so faulty. They’d still remembered what Daleks were, after all, and time had always gone a little weird around them in ways that it didn’t around actual humans.
Vince seemed a little more dazed by the flood of new information and old memories. After watching him thoughtfully for a few seconds, Howard hugged him, toying with the other man’s hair without even asking. He didn’t mind much that Vince was clinging to him since he was fairly certain his grip on Vince’s shoulder was slowly verging on painful.
“How’s my hair look?”
Howard glanced down and chuckled. “It’s the same.”
“Well, that’s something.”
“How long ago did we give those to Naboo? Do you remember?”
“Not the exact date,” Vince admitted, looking up and smiling thinly. “I never had a head for figures. Must have been ages. It feels like three lifetimes ago and that can’t be right. We’re still on our first lives.”
“Early days,” Howard agreed, loosening his grip a little but not moving away. This was nice. He wondered why they’d given this part of everything but and he supposed it was just a matter of not thinking. And it wasn’t like they still hadn’t been joined at the hip even when they’d thought of themselves only as zookeepers or shopkeepers.
The bell above the door rang as someone entered the shop, letting the door bang behind him or her. It was only a quarter past one, and among all the other countless things that Howard hadn’t expected to deal with that day including rediscovering that he was a Time Lord, was the arrival of a customer in a profound muffin trench coat. Even at that moment Howard would have gladly offered him a glimpse of his line of elbow patches except for one thing. One thing that pretty much made his perfect sales pitch die before it could come out of his mouth.
“Howard, he’s the Doctor!” Vince blurted out excitedly.
“There wasn’t anything and then there were two of you,” The Doctor said with a grin. “Imagine that.”
“I can’t believe you’re in here. We read all about you at the Academy, but then we left and we never managed to find you. And you’re here!”
Howard tried to stop Vince from latching onto the older Time Lord, but it didn’t really work and it seemed like the Doctor didn’t exactly mind. Howard minded though. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of his childhood hero or watch Vince do so instead.
Vince hadn’t stopped talking though and the Doctor seemed to still be listening. He also seemed to be interested. Maybe the Doctor didn’t get out that much now that he was so far along in his regenerations. “And it’s been so weird because we just remembered everything.”
The smile turned a bit more serious somehow, but the Doctor just gently hugged Vince back before letting him go and adjusting the collar of Vince’s newest Topshop shirt. Then he glanced over at Howard. “Hello.”
Howard cleared his throat. He nearly saluted, but he was positive Vince would giggle. Since that would only serve to make him feel like a knob, he refrained. “Hello, sir.”
“No need for that. Just call me the Doctor. Look at you. You’re so young.”
Howard colored a little and mumbled something.
Vince just kept on beaming like a little fluorescent light bulb or newborn star. “I can't believe you're here," he declared. "We’re friends with a shaman from Xooberon and he was watching our arches. Only I think we forget about them. But it’s been genius. We found the funk in a box and we worked at a zoo. It was genius. Howard died once and went to Monkey Hell.”
“Vince, you’re getting the order all jumbled up.”
“So am I, actually,” The Doctor murmured. “I forgot all about learning your names. Tell me those first and then I want to know more about this Monkey Hell business.”
“Then you have to tell us about Gallifrey,” Vince insisted and Howard lightly pinched Vince’s arm when he saw the expression on the other man’s face. “Oi.”
“Shut up, Vince. Anyway, I’m Howardmoon and this is Vinceladhwencamthalionaranenoir. But we’ve just been Howard and Vince for a long time now.”
“I can’t imagine why you shortened Vince’s name,” The Doctor teased. Mostly for their benefit Howard thought. Something seemed off now and Howard couldn’t really think of a way to fix it.
“Why can’t he tell us?” Vince asked in what he probably thought was in a hushed tone, but was actually quite loud and bordered on a whine. “I want to know.”
“It can wait, yeah?” The Doctor suggested, not looking comfortable, but not looking too upset. He had his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat and he eyed the exit to the store thoughtfully before looking back at them. “I have a friend with me. She’s minding the TARDIS and I’m sure she’ll want to meet you,” he added with a small smile.
Howard nodded, giving Vince a firm look and a sharp nudge. “Let’s do that then.”
Vince rubbed his side and rolled his eyes before following the Doctor out the door.
News of their home planet -the one that hadn’t really wanted two forward-thinking musicians in the first place- could certainly wait until later. Howard was more eager to spend time in another TARDIS since theirs was broken anyway and buried somewhere in Naboo's attic underneath a heap of Christmas decorations or whatever other rubbish the shaman kept up there. Besides, he wanted to see about impressing the Doctor’s current companion with his dazzling wit and repartee.