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theoldbluebox2012-01-15 12:08 pm
elbiesee.livejournal.com) wrote in theoldbluebox2012-01-15 12:08 pm
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A Doctor Who/Good Omens crossover: "The Luncheon at the End of the World (ppd)"
The Luncheon at the End of the World (ppd.)
By Elbie
Characters: Doctor Ten, Aziraphale, Crowley
Words: 1543
Settings: Earth Side: The autumn after; Whoverse: Between The Waters of Mars and The End of Time
Summary: Three seemingly infinite entities with a lot in common meet and have lunch.
The Usual Disclaimers: I do this for bragging rights and accolades, not profit. The characters mentioned are owned by Misters Pratchett and Gaiman and the BBC (not necessarily in that order). In other words, don’t try to get blood from this turnip.
Author’s Note: Inspired by a suggestion on TVTropes that David Tennant play both Azriaphale and Crowley in the Good Omens miniseries. After my Muse stopped squeeing, she demanded I write this.
______________________________
Autumn had arrived decidedly early. Aziraphale couldn’t tell if it was out of pity or spite. He tried to pull his cardigan closer to him. “You’re sure you told him the right date and time?”
Crowley sighed. “Yes.”
“And this place?”
Crowley watched three ducks launch from the water. Headed to points south, no doubt. Perhaps to Barcelona. “Yes.”
A pause. “This dimension?”
It occurred to Crowley that he could cause a bad day, or at least a rough couple of minutes, by slapping his forehead and cursing with enough discouragement… But no. It had been a rough summer. The past decade hadn’t been easy, come to think of it. Crowley allowed a smile. “Yes, Angel.”
They heard the sound at the same time. Like a church key being run against a large piano string. If said piano were on fire…
The blue police box faded into existence. Azriaphale straightened himself and adjusted his tie. Crowley merely grinned.
Finally, the TARDIS became solid. A door opened. A head popped out, surveyed the scene, then focused on the pair. “Congratulations, gentlemen.”
Azriaphale tried to frown and failed. “You’re tardy, Doctor.”
“I double-checked the coordinates.” The Doctor stepped out of the door, closed it behind him, and pushed a button on a key-like apparatus. The light on the top flickered, and the box itself made a happy boop! noise. “Wanted to make sure there was an Earth to land on. Nice bow tie, by the way.”
Azriaphale preened unconsciously. Pride and vanity were sins, but he didn’t get many positive comments about his wardrobe. At least not lately.
The Doctor turned to Crowley and frowned slightly. “Is that a new jacket?”
The demon shrugged. “The other one got… torn.”
“Ah, in battle! Sounds like a doozy. Wish I was there.” Azriaphale caught a faraway look in the Doctor’s eyes, but didn’t comment. Yet. “You can catch me up on the story over lunch,” the Doctor continued. “The Ritz, again, if you’ve got a reservation for three?”
“Something like that,” Crowley said. “Our treat, this time.”
_________________________
The beauty of dining with immortal entities is the increased quality of the food. Fish loses its off-ness. Wine gains age and, thus, experience. Nothing is oversalted.
And then there’s the conversation: “You… borrowed bodies?” The Doctor raised a fascinated eyebrow.
“Rather involuntary, the whole thing,” Azriaphale said, poking at his salad. The greens actually seemed to brighten under his fork. “It was quite the learning experience, really.”
“Yeah,” Crowley scoffed. “You learned to watch your step.”
“That wasn’t my fault,” Azriaphale said, his voice deceptively calm. “A matter of bad timing and even worse luck.”
Crowley smiled down at his London broil (blue rare). “Some luck.”
“Shall I get started on your end? Beginning with the baby switch business. Never trust a Satanic nun, I’ve always – what’s wrong?”
The Doctor was watching their back-and-forth with unnaturally shiny eyes. His mouth trembled, unsure of whether to turn up or down. “I’ll miss all this.”
An eyebrow popped up from behind the frames of incredibly dark sunglasses. “What are you talking about?” Crowley asked.
The Doctor leaned back and sighed. His faces, worn out from indecision, fell flat. “There’s been a prophecy. I haven’t much time yet. I’m…” He took a breath. “I’m dying.”
“Whaddaya mean?” Crowley nearly snarled, which was his way of hiding his shock. “I thought
your type was immortal, too.”
“No, they’re just hard to kill.” Azriaphale’s voice was softer than usual. “Doctor, you’ll regenerate, right?”
“That’s just it, I don’t know!” The Doctor’s voice broke. “And even so, I’ve done so much this time around. I’m not sure…” He pushed away his plate. “I’m afraid I won’t be the same.”
“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Azriaphale said. “I rather find your change of persona delightful…”
“You’re not helping.” Crowley leaned across the table and refilled the Doctor’s wine glass. “Doc, what you need to do is get drunk. Good and.”
Azriaphale opened his mouth to protest, then shut it. “Actually, that’s a good idea. If, indeed, Time Lords can get drunk.”
The Doctor looked pensive. “I don’t know if I can keep up with you two.”
Crowley smiled. It was like a friendly knife wound. “Let’s find out.”
___________________________
It turns out, with enough decent red wine and good company, a Time Lord can, indeed, get
drunk. Giddily so. “So this bird limps – “
“Flies – “
“-limps across the universe, schar- ahem, sharpens its beak on some huge rock, and…”
“By the time the mountain is worn down, ol’ Broadway Joe here…” Crowley indicated his oldest friend and adversary with a full wine glass.
“…will have danced the Laendler with Julie Andrews the entire time and loved every minute of it, yeah yeah.” Azriaphale unfolded himself out of his chair and put his feet on the floor with just a little bit of effort. He leaned forward, arms on his knees, in what he hoped was an earnest pose. “Doctor, have you given any thought into the rest of your life? Or at least this regeneration?”
“For the love of Julie, Azriaphale,” Crowley groaned. “Are you going to preach? Because I could be off causing a widespread case of hepatitis A somewhere right now...”
“Shaddap a second and hear me out.” Azriaphale sat for a minute, staring at the Doctor. The Doctor stared right back. Finally, he spoke: “What do you wanna do?”
The Doctor’s face twisted up in that way both Angel and Demon knew well. The only indication that their friend was not quite human – no Earthling could make that face and not hurt himself. “Huh?”
“You got, you got, got all time and space at your whatchacallit…” Azriaphale wiggled his fingers. “The tips. You got that big, noisy thing that can take you anywhere.”
“And any when,” Crowley added, realizing Azriaphale’s point. “It’s time to get a little selfish, Doc.”
The Doctor looked back and forth between them. Angel and devil, good and evil, yin and yang. Telling him the same thing, for once. “You want me to go for a joy ride?”
“Isn’t that why you stole – “
“Borrowed.”
“-stole the ol’ girl in the first place?” Crowley asked. “Azriaphale is right. It’s time to climb every mountain, ford every stream…”
“Shut it,” Azriaphale said. “Doctor, if this prophecy is right, you need to take advantage of every moment. Take a vacation.”
“Have some fun,” Crowley agreed.
“Meet new people.”
“Make mistakes.”
“Fall in love!”
“As I said,” Crowley smirked.
The Doctor had been sitting quietly, listening, twirling a wine glass in his hand. “I’ve been trying to make things right.”
“For everyone but yourself,” Crowley said. “I bet.”
The Doctor closed his eyes. “Can we sober up before I make this decision?”
“Excellent idea,” Azriaphale said.
All three of them straightened, shuddered, and then slumped again. Crowley rubbed his forehead. “I never manage to get rid of the sulfites. Wine headaches…”
“Queen Elizabeth.”
Both angel and demon turned. “What about her, Dear?” Azriaphale asked.
“Made her cross, once. Enough to demand my head. Never did find out what I did.” He ventured a grin. “Reckon I should find out.”
“Excellent,” Azriaphale said, patting him on the shoulder. “Something to look forward to in the history books.”
Crowley laughed. “Depends on what he did. History is written by the winners, remember.”
____________________________
The TARDIS stood where they had left her. The trio stood shoulder to shoulder, looking at the blue box. “She never fails to amaze me,” Azriaphale said.
Crowley chuckled. “After what we saw this summer?”
Azriaphale nodded. “Even so.”
The Doctor cleared his throat. “Would you two like to come with me?”
Azriaphale and Crowley looked at each other. The opportunity to see what other life forms the universe had to show, not necessarily in order of appearance…
Crowley was the one to shake his head. “Pass. We’re needed here.”
“Right,” Azriaphale said with obvious regret. “Somebody’s gotta keep an eye on this guy.”
“And who will pay for lunch every day?” Crowley retorted.
“You never let me! Not even to go Dutch,” Azriaphale said.
The Doctor sighed. “Never change, boys.” He pushed the key device again – the merry boop-boop! was gracefully ignored by the rest of the park patrons – and snapped his fingers. The TARDIS doors opened obligingly for him. “Thank you for lunch.”
“Doctor,” Azriaphale said, and then hesitated.
He just smiled, a little bit sadly. “I’ll look you up again, if I’m in the neighborhood.” He grimaced a bit. “If there is a neighborhood.”
“I’ll do my best,” Crowley said. “I still have obligations. Can’t bloody well help it.”
The Doctor bowed to them both. “Until then.” He stepped into that marvelous blue box, shutting the door behind him. The sound started again – an unearthly sound. The box faded in and out of sight before finally disappearing into where neither angels nor demons dared to tread.
The pair stood for a while, staring at where the TARDIS had been. They wanted to ask the same question to each other. Neither one did. Neither had an answer.
Finally, Azriaphale spoke. “I know a place that sells gelato that you’d switch to the other side for.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“My treat, this time.”
By Elbie
Characters: Doctor Ten, Aziraphale, Crowley
Words: 1543
Settings: Earth Side: The autumn after; Whoverse: Between The Waters of Mars and The End of Time
Summary: Three seemingly infinite entities with a lot in common meet and have lunch.
The Usual Disclaimers: I do this for bragging rights and accolades, not profit. The characters mentioned are owned by Misters Pratchett and Gaiman and the BBC (not necessarily in that order). In other words, don’t try to get blood from this turnip.
Author’s Note: Inspired by a suggestion on TVTropes that David Tennant play both Azriaphale and Crowley in the Good Omens miniseries. After my Muse stopped squeeing, she demanded I write this.
______________________________
Autumn had arrived decidedly early. Aziraphale couldn’t tell if it was out of pity or spite. He tried to pull his cardigan closer to him. “You’re sure you told him the right date and time?”
Crowley sighed. “Yes.”
“And this place?”
Crowley watched three ducks launch from the water. Headed to points south, no doubt. Perhaps to Barcelona. “Yes.”
A pause. “This dimension?”
It occurred to Crowley that he could cause a bad day, or at least a rough couple of minutes, by slapping his forehead and cursing with enough discouragement… But no. It had been a rough summer. The past decade hadn’t been easy, come to think of it. Crowley allowed a smile. “Yes, Angel.”
They heard the sound at the same time. Like a church key being run against a large piano string. If said piano were on fire…
The blue police box faded into existence. Azriaphale straightened himself and adjusted his tie. Crowley merely grinned.
Finally, the TARDIS became solid. A door opened. A head popped out, surveyed the scene, then focused on the pair. “Congratulations, gentlemen.”
Azriaphale tried to frown and failed. “You’re tardy, Doctor.”
“I double-checked the coordinates.” The Doctor stepped out of the door, closed it behind him, and pushed a button on a key-like apparatus. The light on the top flickered, and the box itself made a happy boop! noise. “Wanted to make sure there was an Earth to land on. Nice bow tie, by the way.”
Azriaphale preened unconsciously. Pride and vanity were sins, but he didn’t get many positive comments about his wardrobe. At least not lately.
The Doctor turned to Crowley and frowned slightly. “Is that a new jacket?”
The demon shrugged. “The other one got… torn.”
“Ah, in battle! Sounds like a doozy. Wish I was there.” Azriaphale caught a faraway look in the Doctor’s eyes, but didn’t comment. Yet. “You can catch me up on the story over lunch,” the Doctor continued. “The Ritz, again, if you’ve got a reservation for three?”
“Something like that,” Crowley said. “Our treat, this time.”
_________________________
The beauty of dining with immortal entities is the increased quality of the food. Fish loses its off-ness. Wine gains age and, thus, experience. Nothing is oversalted.
And then there’s the conversation: “You… borrowed bodies?” The Doctor raised a fascinated eyebrow.
“Rather involuntary, the whole thing,” Azriaphale said, poking at his salad. The greens actually seemed to brighten under his fork. “It was quite the learning experience, really.”
“Yeah,” Crowley scoffed. “You learned to watch your step.”
“That wasn’t my fault,” Azriaphale said, his voice deceptively calm. “A matter of bad timing and even worse luck.”
Crowley smiled down at his London broil (blue rare). “Some luck.”
“Shall I get started on your end? Beginning with the baby switch business. Never trust a Satanic nun, I’ve always – what’s wrong?”
The Doctor was watching their back-and-forth with unnaturally shiny eyes. His mouth trembled, unsure of whether to turn up or down. “I’ll miss all this.”
An eyebrow popped up from behind the frames of incredibly dark sunglasses. “What are you talking about?” Crowley asked.
The Doctor leaned back and sighed. His faces, worn out from indecision, fell flat. “There’s been a prophecy. I haven’t much time yet. I’m…” He took a breath. “I’m dying.”
“Whaddaya mean?” Crowley nearly snarled, which was his way of hiding his shock. “I thought
your type was immortal, too.”
“No, they’re just hard to kill.” Azriaphale’s voice was softer than usual. “Doctor, you’ll regenerate, right?”
“That’s just it, I don’t know!” The Doctor’s voice broke. “And even so, I’ve done so much this time around. I’m not sure…” He pushed away his plate. “I’m afraid I won’t be the same.”
“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Azriaphale said. “I rather find your change of persona delightful…”
“You’re not helping.” Crowley leaned across the table and refilled the Doctor’s wine glass. “Doc, what you need to do is get drunk. Good and.”
Azriaphale opened his mouth to protest, then shut it. “Actually, that’s a good idea. If, indeed, Time Lords can get drunk.”
The Doctor looked pensive. “I don’t know if I can keep up with you two.”
Crowley smiled. It was like a friendly knife wound. “Let’s find out.”
___________________________
It turns out, with enough decent red wine and good company, a Time Lord can, indeed, get
drunk. Giddily so. “So this bird limps – “
“Flies – “
“-limps across the universe, schar- ahem, sharpens its beak on some huge rock, and…”
“By the time the mountain is worn down, ol’ Broadway Joe here…” Crowley indicated his oldest friend and adversary with a full wine glass.
“…will have danced the Laendler with Julie Andrews the entire time and loved every minute of it, yeah yeah.” Azriaphale unfolded himself out of his chair and put his feet on the floor with just a little bit of effort. He leaned forward, arms on his knees, in what he hoped was an earnest pose. “Doctor, have you given any thought into the rest of your life? Or at least this regeneration?”
“For the love of Julie, Azriaphale,” Crowley groaned. “Are you going to preach? Because I could be off causing a widespread case of hepatitis A somewhere right now...”
“Shaddap a second and hear me out.” Azriaphale sat for a minute, staring at the Doctor. The Doctor stared right back. Finally, he spoke: “What do you wanna do?”
The Doctor’s face twisted up in that way both Angel and Demon knew well. The only indication that their friend was not quite human – no Earthling could make that face and not hurt himself. “Huh?”
“You got, you got, got all time and space at your whatchacallit…” Azriaphale wiggled his fingers. “The tips. You got that big, noisy thing that can take you anywhere.”
“And any when,” Crowley added, realizing Azriaphale’s point. “It’s time to get a little selfish, Doc.”
The Doctor looked back and forth between them. Angel and devil, good and evil, yin and yang. Telling him the same thing, for once. “You want me to go for a joy ride?”
“Isn’t that why you stole – “
“Borrowed.”
“-stole the ol’ girl in the first place?” Crowley asked. “Azriaphale is right. It’s time to climb every mountain, ford every stream…”
“Shut it,” Azriaphale said. “Doctor, if this prophecy is right, you need to take advantage of every moment. Take a vacation.”
“Have some fun,” Crowley agreed.
“Meet new people.”
“Make mistakes.”
“Fall in love!”
“As I said,” Crowley smirked.
The Doctor had been sitting quietly, listening, twirling a wine glass in his hand. “I’ve been trying to make things right.”
“For everyone but yourself,” Crowley said. “I bet.”
The Doctor closed his eyes. “Can we sober up before I make this decision?”
“Excellent idea,” Azriaphale said.
All three of them straightened, shuddered, and then slumped again. Crowley rubbed his forehead. “I never manage to get rid of the sulfites. Wine headaches…”
“Queen Elizabeth.”
Both angel and demon turned. “What about her, Dear?” Azriaphale asked.
“Made her cross, once. Enough to demand my head. Never did find out what I did.” He ventured a grin. “Reckon I should find out.”
“Excellent,” Azriaphale said, patting him on the shoulder. “Something to look forward to in the history books.”
Crowley laughed. “Depends on what he did. History is written by the winners, remember.”
____________________________
The TARDIS stood where they had left her. The trio stood shoulder to shoulder, looking at the blue box. “She never fails to amaze me,” Azriaphale said.
Crowley chuckled. “After what we saw this summer?”
Azriaphale nodded. “Even so.”
The Doctor cleared his throat. “Would you two like to come with me?”
Azriaphale and Crowley looked at each other. The opportunity to see what other life forms the universe had to show, not necessarily in order of appearance…
Crowley was the one to shake his head. “Pass. We’re needed here.”
“Right,” Azriaphale said with obvious regret. “Somebody’s gotta keep an eye on this guy.”
“And who will pay for lunch every day?” Crowley retorted.
“You never let me! Not even to go Dutch,” Azriaphale said.
The Doctor sighed. “Never change, boys.” He pushed the key device again – the merry boop-boop! was gracefully ignored by the rest of the park patrons – and snapped his fingers. The TARDIS doors opened obligingly for him. “Thank you for lunch.”
“Doctor,” Azriaphale said, and then hesitated.
He just smiled, a little bit sadly. “I’ll look you up again, if I’m in the neighborhood.” He grimaced a bit. “If there is a neighborhood.”
“I’ll do my best,” Crowley said. “I still have obligations. Can’t bloody well help it.”
The Doctor bowed to them both. “Until then.” He stepped into that marvelous blue box, shutting the door behind him. The sound started again – an unearthly sound. The box faded in and out of sight before finally disappearing into where neither angels nor demons dared to tread.
The pair stood for a while, staring at where the TARDIS had been. They wanted to ask the same question to each other. Neither one did. Neither had an answer.
Finally, Azriaphale spoke. “I know a place that sells gelato that you’d switch to the other side for.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“My treat, this time.”