Cabin Pressure/Stargate Atlantis and Doctor Who ficbits
Two final fandom_stocking ficbits I forgot to post last week. Beta thanks to athenejen for both of these.
Toronto [Cabin Pressure/Stargate Atlantis, Carolyn, Arthur, Rodney McKay, G, 252 words, for enigel, originally posted here.]
"Are you trying to poison me? Of course you are. You must be. Who's paying you? It's an assassination attempt, I know it, and-"
"I can assure you, sir, that no one is trying to poison you," Carolyn interrupts. She carefully doesn't add 'yet', though she has a distinct feeling that she'll be tempted before the flight is over. It wouldn't be the first time she's harboured a desire to off one of her passengers.
"Then what's this?" Doctor McKay pokes at his tray furiously with his plastic knife. "Why have you served me lemon chicken? I made it very clear when I booked this flight that I have a severe citrus allergy. You know what that means?"
"That's why we didn't give you any citrus. I read the labels and none of them said citrus," Arthur says, proud of having done the right thing. "I can show you."
Carolyn groans.
Their passenger, Doctor McKay, turns an all-too familiar look on Arthur. A look of utter disbelief. "This. Is. Lemon. Chicken," Doctor McKay says, biting the words out as though that will get his point across. Carolyn bets he's a terror with his staff.
"Yes," Arthur says, nodding happily. Carolyn shoos him back to the galley before it gets too ugly. She'll have a little word with him later about the meaning of citrus.
Or maybe she won't. She's tempted to see what will happen if Arthur offers Doctor McKay orange juice.
Yes, she'll have a word with Arthur after the flight.
//
Never Write Off an Old Codger [Doctor Who, Wilf/awesomeness, G, 228 words, for gladdecease, originally posted here.]
This is the first time it's been the end of the world and the Doctor hasn't been around. Wilf contacted him, of course - he knows how to now - but the Doctor had sent a message back: "A bit busy right now, sure you can handle it."
At first, Wilf was, well, more than a bit perturbed. After all, he's nobody. Just a rheumatic-y old codger who's helped out a bit here and there. His age, he's supposed to be dozing off in an armchair in a nursing home, not running around London fighting off aliens.
And then he thought about it.
And then he started working out a plan. He gathered the bowling club together and put his plan to them. They all said yes - even old Mrs. Pobblethwaite once she'd turned her hearing aid on and worked out what Wilf was talking about - and they set to putting it in motion.
Now the plan's in full swing and it's all looking pretty damn good - the aliens are starting to retreat, and most humans will probably never even know they were in danger. Doris has got the kettle on, and they're all going to have a nice cup of tea just as soon as the aliens are out of the way.
Looks like the Doctor was right after all: Wilf could handle it.
//
Toronto [Cabin Pressure/Stargate Atlantis, Carolyn, Arthur, Rodney McKay, G, 252 words, for enigel, originally posted here.]
"Are you trying to poison me? Of course you are. You must be. Who's paying you? It's an assassination attempt, I know it, and-"
"I can assure you, sir, that no one is trying to poison you," Carolyn interrupts. She carefully doesn't add 'yet', though she has a distinct feeling that she'll be tempted before the flight is over. It wouldn't be the first time she's harboured a desire to off one of her passengers.
"Then what's this?" Doctor McKay pokes at his tray furiously with his plastic knife. "Why have you served me lemon chicken? I made it very clear when I booked this flight that I have a severe citrus allergy. You know what that means?"
"That's why we didn't give you any citrus. I read the labels and none of them said citrus," Arthur says, proud of having done the right thing. "I can show you."
Carolyn groans.
Their passenger, Doctor McKay, turns an all-too familiar look on Arthur. A look of utter disbelief. "This. Is. Lemon. Chicken," Doctor McKay says, biting the words out as though that will get his point across. Carolyn bets he's a terror with his staff.
"Yes," Arthur says, nodding happily. Carolyn shoos him back to the galley before it gets too ugly. She'll have a little word with him later about the meaning of citrus.
Or maybe she won't. She's tempted to see what will happen if Arthur offers Doctor McKay orange juice.
Yes, she'll have a word with Arthur after the flight.
//
Never Write Off an Old Codger [Doctor Who, Wilf/awesomeness, G, 228 words, for gladdecease, originally posted here.]
This is the first time it's been the end of the world and the Doctor hasn't been around. Wilf contacted him, of course - he knows how to now - but the Doctor had sent a message back: "A bit busy right now, sure you can handle it."
At first, Wilf was, well, more than a bit perturbed. After all, he's nobody. Just a rheumatic-y old codger who's helped out a bit here and there. His age, he's supposed to be dozing off in an armchair in a nursing home, not running around London fighting off aliens.
And then he thought about it.
And then he started working out a plan. He gathered the bowling club together and put his plan to them. They all said yes - even old Mrs. Pobblethwaite once she'd turned her hearing aid on and worked out what Wilf was talking about - and they set to putting it in motion.
Now the plan's in full swing and it's all looking pretty damn good - the aliens are starting to retreat, and most humans will probably never even know they were in danger. Doris has got the kettle on, and they're all going to have a nice cup of tea just as soon as the aliens are out of the way.
Looks like the Doctor was right after all: Wilf could handle it.
//