Fic: A Different Sort of Shag or Die (1/1)
Title: A Different Sort of Shag or Die
Characters: Pete Tyler, Rose, TenII
Rating: R, for some pretty heavy innuendo
Summary: The advantage of being Pete Tyler is not the power, or the money, or the instant recognition - or so the Doctor and Rose are about to find out.
A/N: Based on real events, actually. And in this scenario, I was neither Rose, nor the Doctor, nor Pete. Thanks to wendymr, who probably didn’t expect to beta when she said the incident should inspire me. But she did a marvelous job of it anyway.
A Different Sort of Shag or Die
The advantage of being Pete Tyler was not the power, or the money, or the instant recognition. Although those things certainly helped.
Oh, no. The advantage of being Pete Tyler was the friends. Particularly the ones in high places, who could make rather sticky situations (to use a sadly appropriate term) go very smoothly.
“Mr. Tyler, so sorry to disturb you at this hour,” the detective apologized as soon as Pete Tyler entered the station. “The superintendent left very exact instructions - no media, no records - no fuss. There’s still the matter of the bail - we’re very sorry about that-"
“It’s all right,” said Pete, running the yawn through his nostrils.
“Standard procedure,” the detective continued, his hands nervously shuffling through his papers, and then fumbling a pen. “To post bail. In person. For - ah - indiscreet activities in which two people are - ah - that is, indecent public acts of - ahh-"
“Fellatio?” asked Pete, and the poor detective’s head nearly popped off his shoulders.
“I - ah - my pen doesn’t seem to be working.” And he blushed even harder.
Pete calmly reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a ball-point, handing it over.
“Cheers,” said the detective meekly, and filled out his portion of the paperwork. “Three hundred quid.”
“Total?”
“Each.”
Pete held out his hand; it took the detective a minute to think of why, until he realized he still held the man’s pen in his own hands. He squeaked, and shoved both the paperwork and the pen at the Vitex millionaire, and drummed against the underside of the desk, anxiously waiting.
Pete signed his name in the marked places, wrote out the check for six hundred pounds, and passed them back across the counter.
“Will you bring them out, or shall I be allowed back to see them?” he asked politely.
“Oh, as you like, Mr. Tyler,” said the detective, gazing in wonder at the signature on the check, and then hastily putting it into a drawer.
“I’d like to see them, please.”
“Of course, of course, so you would, let me find-" He patted his pockets again, hitting his keys at least twice before actually remembering that it was his keys he wanted in the first place. “Here we are. Follow me, sir. Mr. Tyler. Sir.”
Pete followed him into the back of the station, gazing at the grey-blue walls. It was long past midnight, but the station was still lively, and looked both exactly and nothing like any cop show on the telly.
He wondered if Jackie would still be awake when he brought them home. No, that was silly - of course she’d still be awake. It was more a question of whether she’d be standing in the doorway with a pitchfork, or on the balcony with a bucket of tar and a bag of feathers.
“Will you be pressing charges?” Pete asked, breaking the jingly silence of the detective fumbling his keys.
“What? Oh! Ah. No. Superintendent’s taken care of all that, of course. And the lady who spotted them is dropping the charges. But we caught them red - ah - handed, and so the fine applied....”
“A record?”
“Nothing, not a blip,” said the detective, sounding every bit as ashamed as if he had been the one caught. “Nothing to worry about.”
The detective unlocked the heavy door at the end of the corridor. “They’re our only prisoners, luckily - quiet night. Considering.”
Pete looked down the lonely corridor, vertical bars lining either side. “Ah - you didn’t put them in the same cell, did you now?”
“Of course not,” said the detective, his chest puffing up. “Each to their own cell, one on either side. All the way down.”
“Right then,” said Pete, and started walking toward the end, his shoes click-clacking on the concrete floor.
They waited for him, with perfect poker faces. Pete glanced at the one who sat sprawled on the thin metal bed, far too interested in the state of his fingernails, and decided to focus on his daughter instead.
“Rose,” he said by way of greeting, and the young woman, who sat on the very edge of the thin bed, her hands folded in her lap, blinked.
“Hi, Dad,” she said, just a bit meekly. She looked fairly neat and tidy, considering, although there was an odd stain on her blouse that Pete decided did not bear closer scrutiny. Her hair was in need of a brush, too.
“Have a nice night?” asked Pete blithely, leaning against the bars, and Rose turned...well, rose.
“Brilliant, actually,” called the man in the cell across the way, and Rose groaned and fell back against the brick walls. “Well, right up when someone interrupted by knocking on the window....”
“Doctor,” she said, through gritted teeth. “Shut. Up.”
“Wasn’t what you said at the time,” said the Doctor cheerfully, and Pete glanced over his shoulder at the man. The Doctor had jumped up from the bed and now swung from the bars of the cell, using his feet to pivot from point to point. Just looking at him made Pete dizzy.
“Doctor,” said Pete calmly, “shut up.”
“Right you are,” agreed the Doctor, and flopped back onto the bed.
Pete turned back to Rose. “You couldn’t have found an out-of-the-way spot?”
“It was out of the way,” mumbled Rose, her arm over her eyes.
“Oh, yes - a street in the middle of a housing estate is absolutely out-of-the-way.”
“There wasn’t a housing estate there in the other world,” mumbled Rose.
“Rose,” said Pete patiently, “hasn’t Torchwood taught you anything about being observant? Did you not notice the houses or pavements or little old ladies coming home from choir practice?”
“In our defense,” interjected the Doctor, “that little old lady had been watching us for at least five minutes before calling the police.”
“Shut. Up,” shouted both Rose and Pete.
“Oh, right, sorry.” He rolled off the bed and began to pace the cell.
“I realize you’re an adult,” Pete said to Rose, “and I certainly can’t expect to have you listen to me as a parent.”
“I do think of you that way, though,” said Rose, moving her arm to look at her father. “I mean, as a dad. And I’m really sorry-"
“Sorry you were caught, or sorry that I’m here?” asked Pete gently.
“I’m sorry we parked under the streetlamp,” sighed the Doctor, now leaning against the bars again, drawn by the conversation.
Pete stepped backwards and kicked the bars on the Doctor’s cell. The Doctor instantly yelped from the reverberations and jumped back.
“They wouldn’t let me pay our bail,” admitted Rose. “And yeah, I’m sorry about the rest. And we’ll be much more sensible about it in the future.”
“And not park under streetlamps for impromptu blow jobs?” asked Pete, just to see Rose turn even redder.
“Certainly not,” agreed the Doctor, and Pete rounded on him.
“And you!” he said, his voice growing menacing. “Having my little girl perform such disgusting, lewd acts-"
“She offered!” shrieked the Doctor.
“Doctor!” shrieked Rose.
“That’s not the point,” said Pete firmly. “What were you thinking? You’re the older one, aren’t you? You’ve been around a fair bit, I should think.”
The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck. “Welllllll....”
“Oi!” said Rose. “I’d rather not know the answer to that, thanks.”
“Give me one good reason why I should let you back into the house,” said Pete, and the Doctor swallowed.
“Ah...Tony likes me.”
“Under the circumstances, I think that’s a better reason to keep you away,” said Pete.
“I’m very good at fixing the electrical wiring when Jackie plugs too many things into the sockets.”
“True,” mused Pete.
“Rose might miss me,” said the Doctor meekly.
“Maybe,” said Rose.
“Maybe?”
“Well,” said Rose thoughtfully, “you haven’t answered Dad’s question. What you were thinking, I mean, when we parked under the street lamp.”
The Doctor worked his jaw for a moment. “I - ah - am a horrible lout who has only one thing on his mind and how dare I impose my beastly manly will on poor innocent Rose, who is clearly better than I deserve and in order to make up for the ignominy of being arrested for indecent exposure, I owe her whatever her heart desires, up to and including-"
The Doctor faltered, clearly at a loss.
“That’ll do,” said Rose. She stood at the bars now, holding on and watching.
Pete glanced back at Rose. “He hasn’t said up to and including what.”
“We can fill in the blanks later,” said Rose. She reached out and took Pete’s sleeve. “Dad, I’m sorry we embarrassed you. Can you please bail us out now? And take us home?”
“Already done,” said Pete, a bit winded, and motioned for the detective to join them with the keys. “And no embarrassment - the superintendent is an old friend. The woman who reported you won’t be pressing charges.”
“I should say not,” said the Doctor as his cell was unlocked. “We gave her a very good show.”
Rose and Pete stared at him. The Doctor swallowed and stepped clear of his cell.
“We should probably head home now,” he said cheerfully, and reached for Rose’s hand. She let him take it, although she didn’t look entirely certain of that decision.
Pete led the way out of the station, tipped his cap to the detective at the desk, and turned his collar up against the cold night. He half wondered if there would be pictures in the Sun the following morning, and then couldn’t decide if the idea was absolutely abhorrent, or just very, very funny.
Behind him, the Doctor and Rose were chatting, none too quietly. “Quite a bit different from the old days,” the Doctor said cheerily. “I still say you should have let me use the sonic screwdriver.”
“Just because you have one is no reason to use it unnecessarily.”
“I’d say it was very necessary. Some planets, they catch you in those positions, you have to prove you’re married or-" The Doctor made a strange grimacing sound, and Pete was able to see him over his shoulder, making a slashing motion across his throat.
He also saw Rose shudder in response.
Interesting. It certainly explained a great deal.
The Doctor squeezed Rose’s hand as they went down the station steps to Pete’s car. “Any ideas what your heart desires, milady?” he asked.
Rose smiled saucily. “Reciprocation.”
Rose disappeared into the back seat of the car; Pete stared at the Doctor across the bonnet until the man noticed him.
“Ah, hello, Pete,” said the Doctor smoothly, his ears still faintly red.
“Shag or Die, that how it goes on some planets?” Pete asked him.
“Ah - yes.”
“Hmm. Fascinating notion.” Pete opened the driver’s side door.
“But not here,” said the Doctor quickly, his voice going a bit high. “In the Fourth Great British Empire. Eh, Pete?”
“Oh,” said Pete, as casually as he could stand. “I wouldn’t be so sure. Jackie’s waiting up.”
The advantage of being Pete Tyler was not the power, the money, or the instant recognition. Although those things certainly helped.
Oh, no. The advantage of being Pete Tyler was knowing that Jackie Tyler was scarier.
Characters: Pete Tyler, Rose, TenII
Rating: R, for some pretty heavy innuendo
Summary: The advantage of being Pete Tyler is not the power, or the money, or the instant recognition - or so the Doctor and Rose are about to find out.
A/N: Based on real events, actually. And in this scenario, I was neither Rose, nor the Doctor, nor Pete. Thanks to wendymr, who probably didn’t expect to beta when she said the incident should inspire me. But she did a marvelous job of it anyway.
A Different Sort of Shag or Die
The advantage of being Pete Tyler was not the power, or the money, or the instant recognition. Although those things certainly helped.
Oh, no. The advantage of being Pete Tyler was the friends. Particularly the ones in high places, who could make rather sticky situations (to use a sadly appropriate term) go very smoothly.
“Mr. Tyler, so sorry to disturb you at this hour,” the detective apologized as soon as Pete Tyler entered the station. “The superintendent left very exact instructions - no media, no records - no fuss. There’s still the matter of the bail - we’re very sorry about that-"
“It’s all right,” said Pete, running the yawn through his nostrils.
“Standard procedure,” the detective continued, his hands nervously shuffling through his papers, and then fumbling a pen. “To post bail. In person. For - ah - indiscreet activities in which two people are - ah - that is, indecent public acts of - ahh-"
“Fellatio?” asked Pete, and the poor detective’s head nearly popped off his shoulders.
“I - ah - my pen doesn’t seem to be working.” And he blushed even harder.
Pete calmly reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a ball-point, handing it over.
“Cheers,” said the detective meekly, and filled out his portion of the paperwork. “Three hundred quid.”
“Total?”
“Each.”
Pete held out his hand; it took the detective a minute to think of why, until he realized he still held the man’s pen in his own hands. He squeaked, and shoved both the paperwork and the pen at the Vitex millionaire, and drummed against the underside of the desk, anxiously waiting.
Pete signed his name in the marked places, wrote out the check for six hundred pounds, and passed them back across the counter.
“Will you bring them out, or shall I be allowed back to see them?” he asked politely.
“Oh, as you like, Mr. Tyler,” said the detective, gazing in wonder at the signature on the check, and then hastily putting it into a drawer.
“I’d like to see them, please.”
“Of course, of course, so you would, let me find-" He patted his pockets again, hitting his keys at least twice before actually remembering that it was his keys he wanted in the first place. “Here we are. Follow me, sir. Mr. Tyler. Sir.”
Pete followed him into the back of the station, gazing at the grey-blue walls. It was long past midnight, but the station was still lively, and looked both exactly and nothing like any cop show on the telly.
He wondered if Jackie would still be awake when he brought them home. No, that was silly - of course she’d still be awake. It was more a question of whether she’d be standing in the doorway with a pitchfork, or on the balcony with a bucket of tar and a bag of feathers.
“Will you be pressing charges?” Pete asked, breaking the jingly silence of the detective fumbling his keys.
“What? Oh! Ah. No. Superintendent’s taken care of all that, of course. And the lady who spotted them is dropping the charges. But we caught them red - ah - handed, and so the fine applied....”
“A record?”
“Nothing, not a blip,” said the detective, sounding every bit as ashamed as if he had been the one caught. “Nothing to worry about.”
The detective unlocked the heavy door at the end of the corridor. “They’re our only prisoners, luckily - quiet night. Considering.”
Pete looked down the lonely corridor, vertical bars lining either side. “Ah - you didn’t put them in the same cell, did you now?”
“Of course not,” said the detective, his chest puffing up. “Each to their own cell, one on either side. All the way down.”
“Right then,” said Pete, and started walking toward the end, his shoes click-clacking on the concrete floor.
They waited for him, with perfect poker faces. Pete glanced at the one who sat sprawled on the thin metal bed, far too interested in the state of his fingernails, and decided to focus on his daughter instead.
“Rose,” he said by way of greeting, and the young woman, who sat on the very edge of the thin bed, her hands folded in her lap, blinked.
“Hi, Dad,” she said, just a bit meekly. She looked fairly neat and tidy, considering, although there was an odd stain on her blouse that Pete decided did not bear closer scrutiny. Her hair was in need of a brush, too.
“Have a nice night?” asked Pete blithely, leaning against the bars, and Rose turned...well, rose.
“Brilliant, actually,” called the man in the cell across the way, and Rose groaned and fell back against the brick walls. “Well, right up when someone interrupted by knocking on the window....”
“Doctor,” she said, through gritted teeth. “Shut. Up.”
“Wasn’t what you said at the time,” said the Doctor cheerfully, and Pete glanced over his shoulder at the man. The Doctor had jumped up from the bed and now swung from the bars of the cell, using his feet to pivot from point to point. Just looking at him made Pete dizzy.
“Doctor,” said Pete calmly, “shut up.”
“Right you are,” agreed the Doctor, and flopped back onto the bed.
Pete turned back to Rose. “You couldn’t have found an out-of-the-way spot?”
“It was out of the way,” mumbled Rose, her arm over her eyes.
“Oh, yes - a street in the middle of a housing estate is absolutely out-of-the-way.”
“There wasn’t a housing estate there in the other world,” mumbled Rose.
“Rose,” said Pete patiently, “hasn’t Torchwood taught you anything about being observant? Did you not notice the houses or pavements or little old ladies coming home from choir practice?”
“In our defense,” interjected the Doctor, “that little old lady had been watching us for at least five minutes before calling the police.”
“Shut. Up,” shouted both Rose and Pete.
“Oh, right, sorry.” He rolled off the bed and began to pace the cell.
“I realize you’re an adult,” Pete said to Rose, “and I certainly can’t expect to have you listen to me as a parent.”
“I do think of you that way, though,” said Rose, moving her arm to look at her father. “I mean, as a dad. And I’m really sorry-"
“Sorry you were caught, or sorry that I’m here?” asked Pete gently.
“I’m sorry we parked under the streetlamp,” sighed the Doctor, now leaning against the bars again, drawn by the conversation.
Pete stepped backwards and kicked the bars on the Doctor’s cell. The Doctor instantly yelped from the reverberations and jumped back.
“They wouldn’t let me pay our bail,” admitted Rose. “And yeah, I’m sorry about the rest. And we’ll be much more sensible about it in the future.”
“And not park under streetlamps for impromptu blow jobs?” asked Pete, just to see Rose turn even redder.
“Certainly not,” agreed the Doctor, and Pete rounded on him.
“And you!” he said, his voice growing menacing. “Having my little girl perform such disgusting, lewd acts-"
“She offered!” shrieked the Doctor.
“Doctor!” shrieked Rose.
“That’s not the point,” said Pete firmly. “What were you thinking? You’re the older one, aren’t you? You’ve been around a fair bit, I should think.”
The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck. “Welllllll....”
“Oi!” said Rose. “I’d rather not know the answer to that, thanks.”
“Give me one good reason why I should let you back into the house,” said Pete, and the Doctor swallowed.
“Ah...Tony likes me.”
“Under the circumstances, I think that’s a better reason to keep you away,” said Pete.
“I’m very good at fixing the electrical wiring when Jackie plugs too many things into the sockets.”
“True,” mused Pete.
“Rose might miss me,” said the Doctor meekly.
“Maybe,” said Rose.
“Maybe?”
“Well,” said Rose thoughtfully, “you haven’t answered Dad’s question. What you were thinking, I mean, when we parked under the street lamp.”
The Doctor worked his jaw for a moment. “I - ah - am a horrible lout who has only one thing on his mind and how dare I impose my beastly manly will on poor innocent Rose, who is clearly better than I deserve and in order to make up for the ignominy of being arrested for indecent exposure, I owe her whatever her heart desires, up to and including-"
The Doctor faltered, clearly at a loss.
“That’ll do,” said Rose. She stood at the bars now, holding on and watching.
Pete glanced back at Rose. “He hasn’t said up to and including what.”
“We can fill in the blanks later,” said Rose. She reached out and took Pete’s sleeve. “Dad, I’m sorry we embarrassed you. Can you please bail us out now? And take us home?”
“Already done,” said Pete, a bit winded, and motioned for the detective to join them with the keys. “And no embarrassment - the superintendent is an old friend. The woman who reported you won’t be pressing charges.”
“I should say not,” said the Doctor as his cell was unlocked. “We gave her a very good show.”
Rose and Pete stared at him. The Doctor swallowed and stepped clear of his cell.
“We should probably head home now,” he said cheerfully, and reached for Rose’s hand. She let him take it, although she didn’t look entirely certain of that decision.
Pete led the way out of the station, tipped his cap to the detective at the desk, and turned his collar up against the cold night. He half wondered if there would be pictures in the Sun the following morning, and then couldn’t decide if the idea was absolutely abhorrent, or just very, very funny.
Behind him, the Doctor and Rose were chatting, none too quietly. “Quite a bit different from the old days,” the Doctor said cheerily. “I still say you should have let me use the sonic screwdriver.”
“Just because you have one is no reason to use it unnecessarily.”
“I’d say it was very necessary. Some planets, they catch you in those positions, you have to prove you’re married or-" The Doctor made a strange grimacing sound, and Pete was able to see him over his shoulder, making a slashing motion across his throat.
He also saw Rose shudder in response.
Interesting. It certainly explained a great deal.
The Doctor squeezed Rose’s hand as they went down the station steps to Pete’s car. “Any ideas what your heart desires, milady?” he asked.
Rose smiled saucily. “Reciprocation.”
Rose disappeared into the back seat of the car; Pete stared at the Doctor across the bonnet until the man noticed him.
“Ah, hello, Pete,” said the Doctor smoothly, his ears still faintly red.
“Shag or Die, that how it goes on some planets?” Pete asked him.
“Ah - yes.”
“Hmm. Fascinating notion.” Pete opened the driver’s side door.
“But not here,” said the Doctor quickly, his voice going a bit high. “In the Fourth Great British Empire. Eh, Pete?”
“Oh,” said Pete, as casually as he could stand. “I wouldn’t be so sure. Jackie’s waiting up.”
The advantage of being Pete Tyler was not the power, the money, or the instant recognition. Although those things certainly helped.
Oh, no. The advantage of being Pete Tyler was knowing that Jackie Tyler was scarier.