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Here we go, then - part three. Argh, it feels really late, damn you Christmas for being over too soon!
Mind you, My Dad's the PM Christmas special wasn't on until New Year's Eve, tsk.
Title: A Bobbeh Carol (Part Three)
Warnings: A tad bit of language and the fact that this, as usual, won't make much sense to those who haven't seen the Uptown video. That's easily solved: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dGSp0eh57Jo
Oh yeah, and it really was getting quite slashy in here for a bobbehfic. Unintentional, honest, guv.
A/N: It's Bobbeh2's time to visit now. Expect very sudden mood swings. And expect dinerfic crossover.
Disclaimer: The Bobbehs are ours. The real things, sadly, aren't. And they're all very lovely in real life. So are the others, they're not necessarily like their fictional counterparts at all blah de blah de blah.
Starring:
Teh Lindsay
Bobbeh2
Crispin
James
Tim
Ioan
A Bobbeh Carol: Part Three
Lying back down on his bed, Bobbeh Lindsay attempted to get back to sleep. But despite his increasing tiredness, he found it a struggle. This wasn’t helped by him taking a glance at his watch only to discover that it was five to two in the morning. And then realising that this meant five minutes until, if Nick Tennant was to be believed, his second visitor would be arriving.
Bobbeh2. With this, Bobbeh Lindsay was painfully reminded of the classroom scene that he’d been shown earlier. Bizarrely, it felt simultaneously recent and yet Very Long Ago that the two of them had been the best of mates. Being such a solitary soul, Lindsay had often been unsettled by Bobbeh2’s perseverance and eagerness to impress, but nevertheless had appreciated the attention. Now, however, he realised that he’d been taking advantage of the middle Bobbeh’s good nature back then - friendship was about give and take, and Lindsay had been doing all the taking. And now… well, things were very different. Bobbeh2 himself had changed so much that to see him in the flashback was like witnessing a different person. The worst thing was, Bobbeh Lindsay suspected that the middle Bobbeh was beginning to drift away from him - he had so many new friends now - and it was Lindsay’s own fault. If a keen Bobbeh2 had put up with his insults and grumpy demeanour for so long, then who else had Bobbeh Lindsay pushed away with his selfish anti-Christmas attitude?
Extremely unsettled by this train of thought careering out of control, Lindsay peeked at his watch only to discover that the time was now quarter past two. Twenty minutes had flown by, and there hadn’t been any sign of his second visitor. He got up and walked to the window - nothing. Checked under the bed - still nothing. Was the second Bobbeh actually coming at all? Or had Bobbeh Lindsay completely pushed him away for good?
Luckily, his first question was answered within the next few seconds. There was a crashing noise in the corridor, some rather loud swearing, the bedroom door flew open, and in fell Bobbeh2.
“…Bobbeh Lindsay, I’m the Bobbeh of Christmas Present - and that’s not, as I have to keep telling Bobbeh1, *presents* - and I’m to take you somewhere or other and show you…. things.” the middle Bobbeh said breathlessly as he got up off the floor. “I don’t know how this has come about, but apparently it’s very vital that you find your Christmas spirit and learn to love, respect, and appreciate others or something like that.”
“You read all that off a piece of paper…” Bobbeh Lindsay pointed out.
Bobbeh2 frowned as he rearranged his coat so that it was less obvious he was wearing his white pyjamas underneath. “Look, I happen to have rather a lot of lines here and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t…. I have better things to do on Christmas Eve, you know!” he said with an indignant expression.
“Sorry. It’s just that you are rather late and…”
“Oh, and I suppose you’re going to hold that against me too, are you? As it happens, I arrived next bloody door by accident. Right turn up for the books. Bally stupid lot thought I was a ghost for some reason. Anyway, never mind all this, Lindsay, it’s hardly wise for you to be complaining now when you’re being taught to lighten up and…” Bobbeh2 consulted his paper again. “…respect others. So yes, I’m the Bobbeh of Christmas Present, show some rrrespec’.
“Some what?”
“Rrrespec’. Respect? Oh, never mind. We’re late as it is, and I need a cup of *tea*. Now, how on earth do we get out of here in the first place? Dashed if I can remember.”
“Bobbeh1 used that wall over there.” Bobbeh Lindsay pointed.
“Wall? Ho, don’t be absurd.”
“No he did, went straight through it.”
Bobbeh2’s eyebrows were raised, but he gave a shrug. “Worth trying, I suppose. Come on then, take my hand.”
“Do I have to? I mean, is all that really necessary? Why do I-”
“I don’t bloody know why!” snapped Bobbeh2. “If it says here we have to do it, then we have to do it! I don’t write these things, Lindsay.”
With a sigh, Bobbeh Lindsay gave in and held Bobbeh2’s hand - which to his relief was at least well-manicured and unsticky, unlike Bobbeh1’s.
“You’re rather highly-strung for a Christmas Present, aren’t you?” he asked, somewhat bemused. “Aren’t you meant to be this jovial giant or something?”
“Do you think *I’m* happy about the casting here?”
“I just can’t help wondering why I’m considered to be the grumpy Scrooge-like one…”
Bobbeh2 pouted even more. “Because I bloody well *like* Christmas!” he said, forcing a Santa hat onto Bobbeh Lindsay’s head as if that was the end of the matter, before pulling Lindsay by the arm. They disappeared through the wall, and this time Lindsay found himself stood outside in a street in King’s Cross.
The most noticeable thing about this change of location was that it was broad daylight - the low winter sunshine was reflecting brightly off the thick snow that had settled, and Lindsay’s eyes had some trouble adjusting after the moonlight of his bedroom.
“Come on then! I’ll lead the way.” said Bobbeh2 jovially, appearing to quickly forget his earlier irritability.
Bobbeh Lindsay muttered to himself under his breath. It was all very well for Bobbeh2 striding through the snow like that - he had at least put on a huge coat and bright blue scarf over his pyjamas. Lindsay, on the other hand, felt woefully underdressed in his flimsy gown, t-shirt and shorts. His teeth chattering, he huddled up against the cold as best he could, and was grateful that at least no one seemed to able to see the two Bobbehs.
“Bobbeh2,” he whispered tentatively as they marched on,, “I hate to nitpick, but …. Is this actually the present? I mean, it’s bright bloody daylight out here and…”
“Oh, there’s always something isn’t there?” hissed Bobbeh2 “Are you *suggesting* that I’ve screwed up the time travel? Because I haven’t . As it happens, we decided that there wasn’t much point in showing you Christmas Present at 2am in the morning. So you’re seeing tomorrow instead. Happy now?”
“Well, I…”
“Ah yes, here we are.”
They had stopped by, of all places, an American themed diner called ‘Blondes’ that was unfamiliar to Bobbeh Lindsay but not, apparently, to Bobbeh2 - so much so that he appeared to ignore the ‘closed’ sign on the door and barged straight inside.
“Er, Bobbeh2?” questioned Lindsay as he lingered uncertainly in the doorway.
“It’s okay, Robert, old bean!", Bobbeh2 called back, “Know the place terribly well. They’re quite occupied.”
With a shrug, Bobbeh Lindsay followed him through into the diner, where they were greeted by warm air and loud music - there was unmistakably a Christmas party going on inside. Despite the fact that the sign had claimed the diner was closed for the day, there was a reasonable number of people in there, not including the five men among them who appeared to be working in the diner. Some of these people were strangers to Bobbeh Lindsay, but a few were alarmingly familiar. He jumped as he realised that the dark-haired Welshman dancing by the jukebox next to him was in fact Ioan Gruffudd - last seen walking out of Lindsay’s play.
“Bobbeh2,” Lindsay quickly attempted to hide behind Bobbeh2. “Do we really have to-”
“It’s okay, old chap!” reassured Bobbeh2. “They don’t know we’re here. Just as well, really.”
To prove this, Bobbeh2 held his fingers up behind Ioan’s head, giving him a rather fetching of bunny ears. Nevertheless, Lindsay inched away towards the nearest table instead, where there sat a blonde man in a tuxedo smoking a cigar, whom Lindsay assumed must be Bobbeh2’s friend James Wilby.
“I say, Ioany!” shouted James, “Come over here and pull my cracker, why don’t you!”
“In a minute, James, just trying to find Bob the Builder on here….”
James made a disapproving sound. “If Bobbeh knew you’re playing on his jukebox while he’s back at home, he’d have a terrible fit.”
“No I wouldn’t!” protested Bobbeh2 directly to James, appearing to forget that he couldn’t be seen or heard. “Is he *suggesting*…”
Ioan leant back with a hearty laugh. “Ah yes, my precious jukebox!” he said, perfectly imitating Bobbeh2’s cut-glass accent. “Are you *playing* without me?”
Forgetting about Christmas spirit entirely, Bobbeh2 picked up a mince pie and hurled it at Ioan.
Luckily at that moment everyone was distracted by the toilet door opening and a small blonde figure in crutches struggling to make his way out. He was being helped along - to Bobbeh Lindsay’s surprise and further unease - by Tim, who as usual was chirpy and full of cheer.
“It’s okay, chaps!” Tim called. “The cork merely grazed him, but you can’t be too sure. Crispin’s fine now, but be careful how you open champagne in future, James old boy. Nearly had his eye out!”
“Sorry, Tim.”
“Honestly, and there’s me thinking that our most accident-prone friend is away to-day!”
Tim sat down just in time as a rogue mince pie sailed over his head, and began to pour out the champagne. “I rather hope Bobbeh2 will join us later on, however, it’s mot the same without the dear fellow. Still, a merry Christmas to us all, present or absent! God bless us!”
Tim raised his glass in a toast, and was soon followed by the others.
“God bless us, every one!” said Little Crispin, raising his glass the highest, and a big smile on his face despite his grazed forehead and crutches. Tim held his other hand very tightly, as if he feared that Crispin might be taken from him.
“Bobbeh2,” said Lindsay, feeling strangely intrigued, “What happened to, er, Crispin exactly? The crutches, I mean.”
“Oh….er…. Rather delicate matter., I’m afraid. Poor old bean fell out of that broken window there.” replied Bobbeh2.
“…. He will recover though, won’t he?”
“Who can say?” Bobbeh2 looked at Lindsay gravely. “Crispin’s very fragile, and Tim’s not always around to look after him, what with working all hours on a certain play to earn enough money for Crispin’s operation. It’s all terribly sad… Why are you so interested all of a sudden? Isn’t it ‘enough for a man to understand his own business, and not to interfere with other people’s‘?”
Bobbeh2 raised an inquisitive eyebrow, and Lindsay felt a horrible pang of guilt. He was having his own words quoted back at him, and he hung his head in shame. He had had no idea what Tim did outside of the theatre, and of Crispin’s predicament. He cast his eyes to the ground , deep in thought, but quickly raised then again upon hearing his own name.
“I know he’s unlikely to ever join us,” Tim was saying, “But I’d like to raise a glass to Bobbeh Lindsay who, after all, has helped contribute to the marvellous feast we have to-day.”
“….Just how trolleyed are you, Tim?” asked James. “Wetslide are serving us, it’s not exactly a la carte.”
“And anyway,” Ioan joined in, “I wish Bobbeh Lindsay was here, I’d give him a piece of my mind to feed upon! That pathetic wage you receive, and the hours he gives you at Christmas, the cantankerous old…”
“Ioan!“ cried Tim, “Crispin’s here, shh! Christmas Day!”
“Yes, and only on Christmas Day would we be drinking the health of such an odious, stingy unfeeling git as him! You know what he’s like, Tim, nobody knows it better than you do, poor fellow. Except for, perhaps, dear Bobbeh who never used to be so stroppy until Lindsay came along! …. And just *who* is throwing these mince pies at me? Stop it, I say!”
“But… Christmas Day!” insisted Tim. “Anyway, I feel quite sorry for the chap, actually. At the end of the day, it’s Lindsay who suffers most from his own ill whims. I mean, the consequence of his taking a dislike to us, and not making merry with us is, I think, that he misses out on some rather smashing moments. I’m sure he loses pleasanter companions in much the same way.”
The group fell silent for a moment, contemplating this. And then James gave an uproarious laugh. “Yes, Tim is most definitely pissed!”
His friends also broke into laughter, including Tim and even Bobbeh2. Bobbeh Lindsay, however, wasn’t quite as amused.
“He, um, does have a point, does Tim. He may be a Posh Luvvie Git, but I guess he has a point.” he said quietly. “I don’t really get to…. experience… the sort of… camaraderie… that your friends have there. I mean, I know they have a tendency to bitch behind each others backs - Ioan and Janes do, anyway - but it’s clear that it’s a pretty tight-knit group.”
“Oh….yeah.” nodded Bobbeh2. “But surely you don’t *need* anybody else? ‘A man should be able to enjoy his own co-’”
“Stop that! Stop quoting me… out of context! How do you know I said that, anyway?”
“Oh, Bobbeh1 said so. We take notes.”
It was then that Bobbeh Lindsay realised with horror that Bobbeh2 did indeed have a notebook open. He leant over for a surreptitious look, but saw only;
‘I am NOT accident prone OR have terrible fits. Practice Welsh accent re: Ioan. Armani > Prada.’
scrawled across the page.
Lindsay decided to try and change the subject. “How come Tim’s not in the Tiny Tim role, anyhow? Surely there’s enough Roberts here to play Bob Cratchit…?”
“HOW DO I KNOW HOW THE CASTING WORKS?” yelled Bobbeh2 suddenly, so loudly that Crispin looked directly at them with a perplexed expression.
“Bobbeh2...” whispered Crispin, pointing in their direction.
“Oh bless you, Crispy, he’s not here yet.” chuckled Tim, “We’re all missing him, but he’ll be here after he’s had his lunch, don’t worry!”
“Speaking of which, “ muttered an embarrassed Bobbeh2, “I, er, rather think we’d better be getting back. Yes. Let’s toodle pip.”
He turned to go, picking up the plate of mince pies as he went.
“You want to be careful with the stealing, there.” commented Lindsay. “Or you’ll end up like the McCarThief. Complete kleptomaniacs, those Nicks, by the way.”
“Oh, they won’t miss it, plenty of food here. Oi, who’s teaching the lessons here?!”
Absent mindedly, Bobbeh Lindsay reached out to hold Bobbeh2’s hand again, and the diner and it occupants faded away to reveal Lindsay’s bedroom once more. The two Bobbehs stood there for a moment, an awkward silence passing between them. Bobbeh Lindsay was mustering up the courage to say what he felt he needed to say for the last hour. Feeling the time was now, he gave an awkward cough.
“I …er….I, um, know about the Wizzard CD.” he said quietly.
“What CD?”
“The Wizzard CD. That you got the DJ to play for me. I … I just wanted to say thanks. Bit late, I know.”
Bobbeh2 looked startled. “Bobbeh1 showed you *that*? The Christmas disco?” He put his hands to his face in embarrassment. “…Oh gosh, right. How embarrassing. I must have been wearing that snowflake sweater…”
“To be honest, I didn’t pay attention to that.” smiled Lindsay. “There’s a lot of things I didn’t notice back then…and I’d just like to retrospectively apologise.”
“Really? Gosh… I…er….Yes, that means a lot. Thank you.”
Bobbeh2 smiled, but looked down at the floor as he was visibly blushing - his cheeks nearly as red as Bobbeh1’s. “I…uh…rather miss all that. Jolly good fun.”
“So do I, as a matter of fact. It’s probably just as well that you lot have come to get my arse in gear, eh?” Lindsay laughed.
“Indeed. Well….er….good luck with Bobbeh3. A word of advice, though - you may want to be on your best behaviour. You know how he is about you, old bean.”
“Thanks for that” nodded Lindsay.
The noticeably quieter and more flustered Bobbeh2 smiled once again as he waved goodbye, lingering for longer than necessary in the doorway. He then left the bedroom and proceeded to trip up over whatever it was that had tripped him up earlier.
Bobbeh Lindsay shook his head. Clumsiness must be rife in the Bobbeh household.
~ End of Part Three ~