Crossover meme fic
Slowly, slowly, I'm typing these up!
So: two Star Wars crossovers. That's a first for me - SW fic.
Confusion in the Force
Written for pitry who asked for Chris Skelton meeting Luke Skywalker. (I actually wrote this well before the A2A finale, in rough, so it might have been different otherwise)
(All ages, 427 words).
***
Chris paused at the bar, waiting for Luigi to bring his drink and smiled awkwardly at the stranger who was sitting there next to him. He looked out of place, he thought, and, after he’d gone that far, he coughed, feeling he ought to say something. “You must be new round here?”
“Yes,” the blond, blue-eyed stranger answered, lifting his head at being addressed. “I’m not sure what I’m doing here.”
He shrugged. “Oh, well, we all feel like that sometimes.” He wondered where Luigi had gone, feeling even more at odds with the situation. He wasn’t big on the social graces, not after all this time with Ray and the Gov, and not really before, either. He felt the need to explain himself. “I came for a drink. It’s where we hang out after work, see.”
The other only nodded.
Chris saw that he wasn’t drinking anything, and continued, not quite able to help himself, “I could buy you one if you wanted. My round.”
“No need,” said the newcomer, giving a small smile. “Thanks.”
He drew back. “Right. So, you with the Force as well, or only here by chance?”
“I’m sorry?” said the young man, and, clearly, he had got his attention now. “Did you say the Force?”
Chris wondered where the hell Luigi had gone. “Er. Yeah. But don’t hold it against me.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Well, lots of people don’t like us. You know how it is.”
He paused. “Yes. Some people are afraid of the Force. That’s true. There’s a lot of old superstition about.”
“Yeah,” said Chris, and then frowned. “Superstition? What, black cats and salt, and that?”
The blond guy stared back at him, and then shrugged, and visibly decided to move on. “So, have you been practising long?”
“Oh, I’m not practising,” Chris informed him. “I’m an actual copper. I get paid for it. D C Chris Skelton, that’s me.”
Now the stranger was frowning. “Copper?”
“Hi, Chris,” said Shaz, sliding in beside him at the bar. “Who’s your friend?”
He turned, stiffening. “He’s not my friend. I mean - um - actually, I don’t know.”
“Luke,” said the other, laughing, and suddenly looking a lot less out of place.
Shaz smiled back.
Chris pulled her away, as discreetly as he could manage, which wasn’t very. “I’m not sure he’s all there,” he said in her ear. “Bit, you know, cuckoo, if you ask me.”
“I wasn’t,” she said, glancing back at Luke, surveying him with a glint in her eye. “Looks all there to me.”
Chris sulked.
***
Flight of Fancy
Written for curuchamion, who requested a TARDIS/Millennium Falcon fic.
(All ages, 303 words. Han Solo, Leia Organa, Romana I, Fourth Doctor, K9, and two ships.)
***
Han Solo, wiped his forehead, sitting in the cockpit of the Millennium Falcon, thrown back in his seat after a particularly violent manoeuvre. “Whew. What was that?”
“So much for those piloting skills you brag about,” Leia said, from behind him. “If that was an example, I suppose I should at least admire your nerve when it comes to boasting.”
He turned, facing her. “Hey, I’ve got the nerve for anything, Princess.” Then he swung back as random lights flickered and died again across the controls. “What the -?”
“Yes,” she said. “If it’s not you, then what’s got into your ship?”
He adjusted the controls to no avail, frowning heavily. “Beats me. It’s not like her.”
*
“Doctor,” said Romana, in the tone he had come to take as a signal to hide behind the console. “I know that your Type 40 is a little dated, but a TARDIS in flight shouldn’t crash into things, and we very nearly did just then. You haven’t been fixing things again, have you?”
K9’s scanners whirred and turned. “Mistress. Exchange of data detected with oncoming craft.”
The Doctor pulled himself up and stared at the central controls. “Exchange of data?” he echoed. Then he thumped the side of the console. “None of that, my girl. There’s no time for flirting when we’ve got work to do!”
“Flirting?” said Romana, raising her eyebrows.
He grinned. “Well, what passes for it in those sorts of circles, I’d say. Wouldn’t you, K9?”
“Negative, Master.”
He smiled at Romana, over the head of the tin dog. “He’s such a spoilsport, don’t you think?”
“I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous in my life,” declared Romana.
The Doctor took this as a challenge. “Really? Oh, well, we can soon change that!”
“I can imagine,” she said dryly. Flirting, indeed, she thought.
***
So: two Star Wars crossovers. That's a first for me - SW fic.
Confusion in the Force
Written for pitry who asked for Chris Skelton meeting Luke Skywalker. (I actually wrote this well before the A2A finale, in rough, so it might have been different otherwise)
(All ages, 427 words).
***
Chris paused at the bar, waiting for Luigi to bring his drink and smiled awkwardly at the stranger who was sitting there next to him. He looked out of place, he thought, and, after he’d gone that far, he coughed, feeling he ought to say something. “You must be new round here?”
“Yes,” the blond, blue-eyed stranger answered, lifting his head at being addressed. “I’m not sure what I’m doing here.”
He shrugged. “Oh, well, we all feel like that sometimes.” He wondered where Luigi had gone, feeling even more at odds with the situation. He wasn’t big on the social graces, not after all this time with Ray and the Gov, and not really before, either. He felt the need to explain himself. “I came for a drink. It’s where we hang out after work, see.”
The other only nodded.
Chris saw that he wasn’t drinking anything, and continued, not quite able to help himself, “I could buy you one if you wanted. My round.”
“No need,” said the newcomer, giving a small smile. “Thanks.”
He drew back. “Right. So, you with the Force as well, or only here by chance?”
“I’m sorry?” said the young man, and, clearly, he had got his attention now. “Did you say the Force?”
Chris wondered where the hell Luigi had gone. “Er. Yeah. But don’t hold it against me.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Well, lots of people don’t like us. You know how it is.”
He paused. “Yes. Some people are afraid of the Force. That’s true. There’s a lot of old superstition about.”
“Yeah,” said Chris, and then frowned. “Superstition? What, black cats and salt, and that?”
The blond guy stared back at him, and then shrugged, and visibly decided to move on. “So, have you been practising long?”
“Oh, I’m not practising,” Chris informed him. “I’m an actual copper. I get paid for it. D C Chris Skelton, that’s me.”
Now the stranger was frowning. “Copper?”
“Hi, Chris,” said Shaz, sliding in beside him at the bar. “Who’s your friend?”
He turned, stiffening. “He’s not my friend. I mean - um - actually, I don’t know.”
“Luke,” said the other, laughing, and suddenly looking a lot less out of place.
Shaz smiled back.
Chris pulled her away, as discreetly as he could manage, which wasn’t very. “I’m not sure he’s all there,” he said in her ear. “Bit, you know, cuckoo, if you ask me.”
“I wasn’t,” she said, glancing back at Luke, surveying him with a glint in her eye. “Looks all there to me.”
Chris sulked.
***
Flight of Fancy
Written for curuchamion, who requested a TARDIS/Millennium Falcon fic.
(All ages, 303 words. Han Solo, Leia Organa, Romana I, Fourth Doctor, K9, and two ships.)
***
Han Solo, wiped his forehead, sitting in the cockpit of the Millennium Falcon, thrown back in his seat after a particularly violent manoeuvre. “Whew. What was that?”
“So much for those piloting skills you brag about,” Leia said, from behind him. “If that was an example, I suppose I should at least admire your nerve when it comes to boasting.”
He turned, facing her. “Hey, I’ve got the nerve for anything, Princess.” Then he swung back as random lights flickered and died again across the controls. “What the -?”
“Yes,” she said. “If it’s not you, then what’s got into your ship?”
He adjusted the controls to no avail, frowning heavily. “Beats me. It’s not like her.”
*
“Doctor,” said Romana, in the tone he had come to take as a signal to hide behind the console. “I know that your Type 40 is a little dated, but a TARDIS in flight shouldn’t crash into things, and we very nearly did just then. You haven’t been fixing things again, have you?”
K9’s scanners whirred and turned. “Mistress. Exchange of data detected with oncoming craft.”
The Doctor pulled himself up and stared at the central controls. “Exchange of data?” he echoed. Then he thumped the side of the console. “None of that, my girl. There’s no time for flirting when we’ve got work to do!”
“Flirting?” said Romana, raising her eyebrows.
He grinned. “Well, what passes for it in those sorts of circles, I’d say. Wouldn’t you, K9?”
“Negative, Master.”
He smiled at Romana, over the head of the tin dog. “He’s such a spoilsport, don’t you think?”
“I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous in my life,” declared Romana.
The Doctor took this as a challenge. “Really? Oh, well, we can soon change that!”
“I can imagine,” she said dryly. Flirting, indeed, she thought.
***