More meme responses!
These are for donutsweeper, who prompted:
14 and 3 sit down for tea. It does not go well.
2 meets an alternative version of themself.
6 gets hurt in the stupidest, most inane way possible. No one laughs.
“So, when was the last time the Doctor took you out to tea?” Captain Jack Harkness asked, holding the door open for Rose.
“Ummm, awhile back we had tea with the Earl of Sandwich...I'm sort of responsible for tea sandwiches now,” Rose said, grinning and pushing back an errant lock of hair.
“Oh, English tea. No, no, I meant Betelgeusian, it's the standard for this century,” Jack replied, waggling his eyebrows. “Good sir, I require Tea for myself and the lady,” he said to the diminutive, green-furred being behind the podium, making a sweeping gesture toward Rose.
“Of course sir! Right this way!” The maitre d' scurried off into the dim room, somehow achieving the same snooty pompousness of his 21st century French counterpart.
“Beetlejuician? Like that guy from the American show?” Rose laughed a little skeptically, looking around.
Jack chuckled, grabbing her hand and pulling her along behind M'sieur Green Fur.“No, Betelgeuse, it's Arabic. You're going to love this, I promise!”
~~~~~
The bowl was full of something moving. Scratch that, writhing. Rose looked doubtfully at it.
“Ooh, very fresh!” Jack exclaimed, spearing a mouthful of...something...from his bowl. The stuff wriggled as he slurped it up.
“You're kidding me, right?” Rose asked. She picked up the bowl and peered at the moving stuff.
It peered back at her. “AUGH!” Rose almost dropped the bowl.
“What? It wants to know what it's getting itself into. What's wrong with that?”
“Well, for one thing, I'm used to drinking my tea, and for another, I don't eat...live things!” Rose hissed, trying not to let the so-called Tea overhear her.
“You could probably drink it, but that's not the way to properly savour Betelgeusian Tea,” said Jack, picking up another mouthful. “Go on, try it, it's really great.”
Rose picked up her woodware and reluctantly scooped a bit up. “And this really doesn't, I don't know, hurt it? Or me?”
“'Course not. And, it does this delightful little dance on its way through your system!” Jack grinned. “Actually it's quite good for you, it collects a bunch of stuff that gums up your digestive tract.”
“Rrrright.” Trying not to wince, Rose put the Tea in her mouth. It was all she could do not to immediately spit it back out. Swallowing quickly, Rose wiped her mouth on her sleeve and tried hard not to let it come right back up.
“Isn't that great?” She looked up and saw that Jack had finished his entire bowl. He caught her looking and chuckled a little. “I know, I don't take the time to enjoy it the way you're supposed to, but I just love this stuff - drop by whenever I get a chance.”
Grabbing her bowl and squeezing her eyes shut, Rose somehow drank the whole thing.
~~~~~
The shriek from the bathroom had both the Doctor and Jack on their feet and running before they realised where it had come from. The Doctor leveled a stare at Jack.
“OH MY GOD! It's black! It's oily and slimy and black and JACK I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!”
“Um,” Jack said, a slightly guilty-looking smile on his face. “At least it's better than those Earth detox diets?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The slightly-scruffy looking gentleman at the door pushed past the taller, sharply dressed man who had just opened it. “Watson? Watson!”
“He's not here. Who are you?”
The scruffy gentleman ignored him. “WatSON! Where are you, man!?”
“I said, he's not here!” The sharp dresser slammed the door in annoyance, causing muffled, feminine shouts from downstairs, which went unanswered. He strode impatiently over to the scruffy man, who was standing in the middle of the room, intensely studying the room. “What do you want with John?”
The scruffy man turned to him in surprise. “You must know him well, to use his Christian name. Yet I do not ever recall seeing you before, although to be fair this room is not as I left it, either.”
“As you left it?” The sharp dresser narrowed his eyes, really looking at the scruffy man in front of him. “Not a costume, then. You really are..?”
“Damn,” muttered the scruffy man. “Wrong door.”
“Door. What do you mean, door?”
“Long story, impossible to explain in time, I have to-”
“So there actually is a Hall of Doors?” The sharp dresser seized the scruffy man by the shoulders. “I thought that urban myth had too much consistency to it, but I ascribed it to the rift.”
“How the deuce do you know that? Oh, never mind, of course, I'm dealing with my brilliant self.” The scruffy man shook off the other's hands. “The rift is uncontrolled, had I gotten here via the rift I'd be in a much worse state. Also, I'd be in Cardiff. No, the Hall of Doors is quite real, and quite dangerous.” He began pacing the length of the room.
The sharp dresser watched him keenly. “Of course it's dangerous. Travelling the multiverse is hardly a stroll in the park. You've lost your doctor, then?”
“Yes, although since we took the door together he should be nearby.” The scruffy man looked annoyed. “I expected the perils to be worse during the case, not the return home.”
“Sherlock?”
Both men turned toward the door. A distinguished mustached gentleman in 19th-century dress and a shorter clean-faced man in jumper and jeans stood at the door. “I think we have a problem,” the man in the jumper continued.
“Not at all, my dear Watson,” said the scruffy man, and smiled wickedly at the sharp dresser. “I think between the two of us, everything will work out quite as it should.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Jesus, what happened to you?!”
Angela Montenegro had stopped dead at the sight of Agent Seeley Booth. Purple and red blossomed across one eye and onto a broad cheekbone, livid against the tanned skin.
“Oh, this? Yea...” Booth brushed a hand over his eye, wincing a little, and tried to deflect. “Listen, we've got a body out in-”
“No, really. What happened?” Angela crossed her arms and cocked a hip in what was clearly an indicator of I will not be placated so easily.
Rolling his eyes, Booth sighed. “I...walked into a door, okay?”
Angela blinked. “You walked into a door.”
“Yes.” Booth glared out of his swollen eye, hoping she'd just drop it.
“You do know what that sounds like, don't you,” she said, her tone of voice making it a statement rather than a question.
“Yes, I do. Look, I stepped on one of Parker's toys and tripped directly into the door, it was an accident, I'm fine except for this,” he waved at his face. “Don't get so worked up about it.”
Giving him the side-eye, she turned to the Angelatron. “Ok, so what am I doing for you?”
~~~~~
“Oh my god,” Hodgins said, starting back.
“I know,” grunted Booth. “I walked into a door.”
“Does it hurt?” Hodgins asked, then shook his head. “Never mind, stupid question.” He paused for a beat. “How are things with Brennan?”
“Bones? Fine, fine,” Booth replied, blinking at the non sequiter.
“She, uh. She's not still mad about the..?” Hodgins trailed off at the look on Booth's face. “So the maggots we found on the body,” he quickly said, gesticulating to the table.
~~~~~
“Booth?” Cam tapped on the inside of the open doorway. “Do you have a minute?”
“Sure,” Booth said, looking up from his desk. “What brings you over here?”
“I wanted to talk to you about...that,” she said, gesturing to his face.
“What about it?” Booth almost-growled. This was getting ridiculous.
“Some of us are worried about...you and Brennan,” Cam said, choosing her words carefully.
“Why?” he said flatly. “Do I look like my partner abuses me?”
Raising her eyebrows, Cam folded her arms. “You have to admit, a story about walking into a door is highly suspicious, and with as angry as Brennan was with you last week, well. I'm just worried about my team, especially in the middle of a case.”
Booth rolled his eyes. “Brennan wasn't even there when it happened. I'm fine, Cam, I promise.” He ducked his head a little and looked at her from under raised eyebrows, exasperated. “Do you want me to go talk to Sweets or something?”
“I would be very happy if you did so, yes,” Cam replied.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered.
~~~~~
“I'm guessing you came about the eye,” Sweets said, looking sympathetic.
“I don't get it! Brennan and I have been partners for ages, with no-” Booth caught Sweets' skeptical look. “All right, very few serious arguments. But honestly, one stupid accident and everybody thinks I need to talk to a shrink?!” Booth flopped on Sweets' couch, then looked over at him. “No offense.”
“Of course,” Sweets said agreeably.
“I just don't get it,” Booth grumbled.
“Well, they're worried about you,” Sweets replied. “Brennan was really angry last week, and now you come in with a story about walking into a door, you have to understand where they're coming from.”
“Has anybody here ever met Brennan?” Booth demanded, sitting up. “I can't see her punching anybody without a really good reason!”
“She shot a man in the leg with very little cause,” Sweets pointed out. “And then you took her gun away.”
“I didn't take her gun away,” Booth retorted. “Anyway, that was months ago.”
“Still,” Sweets said.
“Brennan had nothing to do with it,” Booth growled.
~~~~~
“Booth, what happened?” Brennan asked, reaching out to touch the bruise on his face.
“I walked into a door,” he sighed.
“That's unfortunate, how did it happen?” She pulled her hand away, looking at him expectantly.
“I stepped on one of Parker's toys and tripped into his door, face-first,” Booth replied.
“That sounds like what most victims of domestic abuse would say,” Brennan frowned.
“I know,” he said, worlds of sarcasm in his voice. “I've been told that.”
“What, do people think you're being abused? Who would do that? You're not currently seeing anyone,” she said, still frowning. “There isn't anyone you're close to who lives nearby.”
Booth raised his eyebrows at her. Brennan looked blankly at him for a moment, then looked shocked. “What, me? People think that I hit you?”
“Apparently our argument last week has given people enough probable cause to suspect that, yes,” Booth said disgustedly.
“I can understand why people might think that, I was very angry,” Brennan said reasonably.
“Could you just maybe, tell people that you're not - that you haven't been hitting me?” Booth said, trying not to sound plaintive. He must not have succeeded, because Brennan smiled.
“I think I can do that, yes.” She touched his face again, gently. “For what it's worth, I'm sorry that you hurt yourself.”
“Thanks, Bones,” he said gratefully.
Thanks to Jane Espenson, whose writing sprint today got these finally done!
14 and 3 sit down for tea. It does not go well.
2 meets an alternative version of themself.
6 gets hurt in the stupidest, most inane way possible. No one laughs.
“So, when was the last time the Doctor took you out to tea?” Captain Jack Harkness asked, holding the door open for Rose.
“Ummm, awhile back we had tea with the Earl of Sandwich...I'm sort of responsible for tea sandwiches now,” Rose said, grinning and pushing back an errant lock of hair.
“Oh, English tea. No, no, I meant Betelgeusian, it's the standard for this century,” Jack replied, waggling his eyebrows. “Good sir, I require Tea for myself and the lady,” he said to the diminutive, green-furred being behind the podium, making a sweeping gesture toward Rose.
“Of course sir! Right this way!” The maitre d' scurried off into the dim room, somehow achieving the same snooty pompousness of his 21st century French counterpart.
“Beetlejuician? Like that guy from the American show?” Rose laughed a little skeptically, looking around.
Jack chuckled, grabbing her hand and pulling her along behind M'sieur Green Fur.“No, Betelgeuse, it's Arabic. You're going to love this, I promise!”
~~~~~
The bowl was full of something moving. Scratch that, writhing. Rose looked doubtfully at it.
“Ooh, very fresh!” Jack exclaimed, spearing a mouthful of...something...from his bowl. The stuff wriggled as he slurped it up.
“You're kidding me, right?” Rose asked. She picked up the bowl and peered at the moving stuff.
It peered back at her. “AUGH!” Rose almost dropped the bowl.
“What? It wants to know what it's getting itself into. What's wrong with that?”
“Well, for one thing, I'm used to drinking my tea, and for another, I don't eat...live things!” Rose hissed, trying not to let the so-called Tea overhear her.
“You could probably drink it, but that's not the way to properly savour Betelgeusian Tea,” said Jack, picking up another mouthful. “Go on, try it, it's really great.”
Rose picked up her woodware and reluctantly scooped a bit up. “And this really doesn't, I don't know, hurt it? Or me?”
“'Course not. And, it does this delightful little dance on its way through your system!” Jack grinned. “Actually it's quite good for you, it collects a bunch of stuff that gums up your digestive tract.”
“Rrrright.” Trying not to wince, Rose put the Tea in her mouth. It was all she could do not to immediately spit it back out. Swallowing quickly, Rose wiped her mouth on her sleeve and tried hard not to let it come right back up.
“Isn't that great?” She looked up and saw that Jack had finished his entire bowl. He caught her looking and chuckled a little. “I know, I don't take the time to enjoy it the way you're supposed to, but I just love this stuff - drop by whenever I get a chance.”
Grabbing her bowl and squeezing her eyes shut, Rose somehow drank the whole thing.
~~~~~
The shriek from the bathroom had both the Doctor and Jack on their feet and running before they realised where it had come from. The Doctor leveled a stare at Jack.
“OH MY GOD! It's black! It's oily and slimy and black and JACK I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!”
“Um,” Jack said, a slightly guilty-looking smile on his face. “At least it's better than those Earth detox diets?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The slightly-scruffy looking gentleman at the door pushed past the taller, sharply dressed man who had just opened it. “Watson? Watson!”
“He's not here. Who are you?”
The scruffy gentleman ignored him. “WatSON! Where are you, man!?”
“I said, he's not here!” The sharp dresser slammed the door in annoyance, causing muffled, feminine shouts from downstairs, which went unanswered. He strode impatiently over to the scruffy man, who was standing in the middle of the room, intensely studying the room. “What do you want with John?”
The scruffy man turned to him in surprise. “You must know him well, to use his Christian name. Yet I do not ever recall seeing you before, although to be fair this room is not as I left it, either.”
“As you left it?” The sharp dresser narrowed his eyes, really looking at the scruffy man in front of him. “Not a costume, then. You really are..?”
“Damn,” muttered the scruffy man. “Wrong door.”
“Door. What do you mean, door?”
“Long story, impossible to explain in time, I have to-”
“So there actually is a Hall of Doors?” The sharp dresser seized the scruffy man by the shoulders. “I thought that urban myth had too much consistency to it, but I ascribed it to the rift.”
“How the deuce do you know that? Oh, never mind, of course, I'm dealing with my brilliant self.” The scruffy man shook off the other's hands. “The rift is uncontrolled, had I gotten here via the rift I'd be in a much worse state. Also, I'd be in Cardiff. No, the Hall of Doors is quite real, and quite dangerous.” He began pacing the length of the room.
The sharp dresser watched him keenly. “Of course it's dangerous. Travelling the multiverse is hardly a stroll in the park. You've lost your doctor, then?”
“Yes, although since we took the door together he should be nearby.” The scruffy man looked annoyed. “I expected the perils to be worse during the case, not the return home.”
“Sherlock?”
Both men turned toward the door. A distinguished mustached gentleman in 19th-century dress and a shorter clean-faced man in jumper and jeans stood at the door. “I think we have a problem,” the man in the jumper continued.
“Not at all, my dear Watson,” said the scruffy man, and smiled wickedly at the sharp dresser. “I think between the two of us, everything will work out quite as it should.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Jesus, what happened to you?!”
Angela Montenegro had stopped dead at the sight of Agent Seeley Booth. Purple and red blossomed across one eye and onto a broad cheekbone, livid against the tanned skin.
“Oh, this? Yea...” Booth brushed a hand over his eye, wincing a little, and tried to deflect. “Listen, we've got a body out in-”
“No, really. What happened?” Angela crossed her arms and cocked a hip in what was clearly an indicator of I will not be placated so easily.
Rolling his eyes, Booth sighed. “I...walked into a door, okay?”
Angela blinked. “You walked into a door.”
“Yes.” Booth glared out of his swollen eye, hoping she'd just drop it.
“You do know what that sounds like, don't you,” she said, her tone of voice making it a statement rather than a question.
“Yes, I do. Look, I stepped on one of Parker's toys and tripped directly into the door, it was an accident, I'm fine except for this,” he waved at his face. “Don't get so worked up about it.”
Giving him the side-eye, she turned to the Angelatron. “Ok, so what am I doing for you?”
~~~~~
“Oh my god,” Hodgins said, starting back.
“I know,” grunted Booth. “I walked into a door.”
“Does it hurt?” Hodgins asked, then shook his head. “Never mind, stupid question.” He paused for a beat. “How are things with Brennan?”
“Bones? Fine, fine,” Booth replied, blinking at the non sequiter.
“She, uh. She's not still mad about the..?” Hodgins trailed off at the look on Booth's face. “So the maggots we found on the body,” he quickly said, gesticulating to the table.
~~~~~
“Booth?” Cam tapped on the inside of the open doorway. “Do you have a minute?”
“Sure,” Booth said, looking up from his desk. “What brings you over here?”
“I wanted to talk to you about...that,” she said, gesturing to his face.
“What about it?” Booth almost-growled. This was getting ridiculous.
“Some of us are worried about...you and Brennan,” Cam said, choosing her words carefully.
“Why?” he said flatly. “Do I look like my partner abuses me?”
Raising her eyebrows, Cam folded her arms. “You have to admit, a story about walking into a door is highly suspicious, and with as angry as Brennan was with you last week, well. I'm just worried about my team, especially in the middle of a case.”
Booth rolled his eyes. “Brennan wasn't even there when it happened. I'm fine, Cam, I promise.” He ducked his head a little and looked at her from under raised eyebrows, exasperated. “Do you want me to go talk to Sweets or something?”
“I would be very happy if you did so, yes,” Cam replied.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered.
~~~~~
“I'm guessing you came about the eye,” Sweets said, looking sympathetic.
“I don't get it! Brennan and I have been partners for ages, with no-” Booth caught Sweets' skeptical look. “All right, very few serious arguments. But honestly, one stupid accident and everybody thinks I need to talk to a shrink?!” Booth flopped on Sweets' couch, then looked over at him. “No offense.”
“Of course,” Sweets said agreeably.
“I just don't get it,” Booth grumbled.
“Well, they're worried about you,” Sweets replied. “Brennan was really angry last week, and now you come in with a story about walking into a door, you have to understand where they're coming from.”
“Has anybody here ever met Brennan?” Booth demanded, sitting up. “I can't see her punching anybody without a really good reason!”
“She shot a man in the leg with very little cause,” Sweets pointed out. “And then you took her gun away.”
“I didn't take her gun away,” Booth retorted. “Anyway, that was months ago.”
“Still,” Sweets said.
“Brennan had nothing to do with it,” Booth growled.
~~~~~
“Booth, what happened?” Brennan asked, reaching out to touch the bruise on his face.
“I walked into a door,” he sighed.
“That's unfortunate, how did it happen?” She pulled her hand away, looking at him expectantly.
“I stepped on one of Parker's toys and tripped into his door, face-first,” Booth replied.
“That sounds like what most victims of domestic abuse would say,” Brennan frowned.
“I know,” he said, worlds of sarcasm in his voice. “I've been told that.”
“What, do people think you're being abused? Who would do that? You're not currently seeing anyone,” she said, still frowning. “There isn't anyone you're close to who lives nearby.”
Booth raised his eyebrows at her. Brennan looked blankly at him for a moment, then looked shocked. “What, me? People think that I hit you?”
“Apparently our argument last week has given people enough probable cause to suspect that, yes,” Booth said disgustedly.
“I can understand why people might think that, I was very angry,” Brennan said reasonably.
“Could you just maybe, tell people that you're not - that you haven't been hitting me?” Booth said, trying not to sound plaintive. He must not have succeeded, because Brennan smiled.
“I think I can do that, yes.” She touched his face again, gently. “For what it's worth, I'm sorry that you hurt yourself.”
“Thanks, Bones,” he said gratefully.
Thanks to Jane Espenson, whose writing sprint today got these finally done!