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This is from 2009. No idea now why I was writing a HH/TW/DW AU crossover featuring Nigel Owens, and with William Bush as The Doctor, but I was. As you do. So here it is again.
Disclaimer: Don't own any of these guys, not even SuperNige. Wish I did.
“Is he alright?”
“He’s fine. For someone who’s been abducted by aliens.” William Bush, wearing his Doctor’s long coat rather than his lieutenant’s jacket, grinned. “Showing a remarkable amount of reliance.”
“The Welsh are a plucky lot.” Archie Kennedy fiddled with his Starbuck’s coffee. Funny how this commodity never varied in quality – dubious – from one end of the country to the other. “And Ianto says this one’s one of the pluckiest. Battled through a lot in his life.” He didn’t elaborate; Bush seemed to know everything, or had the ability to finds it out which amounted to the same thing. He’d know what had happened to both of them – different circumstances but the same miserable years of growing up.
“Jack’s taken quite a shine to him.”
“Taken quite a shine as in go to the pub for a pint or taken quite a shine as in go to bed for a…”
“The former. Not quite Loose-zip’s type. Nice bloke, but not what you’d call a stunner.” William sipped his coffee with a grimace.
“He’s got a nice smile, though. Bet the women swoon over those chubby cheeks. And I wouldn’t like to get in a fight with him – susopect he punches his weight.”
“Well, I understand he nearly tried to take out his abductors. Lucky we got there in time, before things got nasty. One bloke with a whistle against three hefty Arcturabladians with plasma guns.”
“What I don’t understand is why anyone would want to substitute their own lookalike for the referee of the Scotland Italy game? I mean, it could hardly further the cause of world domination, could it?” Archie had convinced himself that every alien being had to be descended from Napoleon.
“Not world domination, this time. Spread betting. This mob were looking to make a fortune on things like the time that penalties would be awarded, who got yellow carded and when. How far Chris Paterson would attempt a kick from.”
“Ah, Chris Paterson; he’d be Jack’s type. Him and Parisse, distinctly – what’s the term – warm?” Archie’s blue eyes danced at the thought.
“Hot. And Horatio had better not hear you talking up the opposition.”
“Horatio can lump it.”
“He’s probably lumping it out there with the rest of them. I understand that Nige is getting in a bit of match practice. Ianto offered to escort him from dressing room to pitch and then to shadow him during the match. Nige said he’d look pretty silly if he ended up handling the ball in the ruck on the five yard line and had to get a yellow card. Told him he couldn’t be trusted not to mouth swear words in front of Princess Anne. Ianto said he thought there wasn’t a swear word he could use that Her Royal Highness hadn’t uttered, and Nige made him wash his mouth out.” Bush looked suddenly serious. “Could have done with him on Renown.”
“Aye.” Archie fingered his side – he was still aware of it, sometimes.
“The swine!” Horatio barged through the door, face flushed with anger and what might just be embarrassment.
Archie’s Who? coincided with William’s What?
“That man we rescued. Very grateful to Ianto and old Oily drawers. Want to know what he said to me?”
“Oh, definitely.” Archie controlled the urge to giggle.
“He was describing these aliens and I just rolled my eyes very slightly, and gestured a mere inch or two in the air with my hand. And he said If you’re going to overact I’ll send you to drama school.”
“What a star.” Archie had at last recovered his voice, which was more than William had done, still doubled over with laughter. “I’m buying him a pint after the game.”
“I won’t be there. I shall find my own entertainment.” Horatio was going to hold this grudge for a while.
“Suit yourself. If you get bored report to the Italian dressing room – Jack has got us all passes, we’re part of the match security now.” William wheezed out the words.
“Why should I go there?”
“No particular reason, Horatio. Just ask for Mr. Parisse and say Jack sent you.”
Disclaimer: Don't own any of these guys, not even SuperNige. Wish I did.
“Is he alright?”
“He’s fine. For someone who’s been abducted by aliens.” William Bush, wearing his Doctor’s long coat rather than his lieutenant’s jacket, grinned. “Showing a remarkable amount of reliance.”
“The Welsh are a plucky lot.” Archie Kennedy fiddled with his Starbuck’s coffee. Funny how this commodity never varied in quality – dubious – from one end of the country to the other. “And Ianto says this one’s one of the pluckiest. Battled through a lot in his life.” He didn’t elaborate; Bush seemed to know everything, or had the ability to finds it out which amounted to the same thing. He’d know what had happened to both of them – different circumstances but the same miserable years of growing up.
“Jack’s taken quite a shine to him.”
“Taken quite a shine as in go to the pub for a pint or taken quite a shine as in go to bed for a…”
“The former. Not quite Loose-zip’s type. Nice bloke, but not what you’d call a stunner.” William sipped his coffee with a grimace.
“He’s got a nice smile, though. Bet the women swoon over those chubby cheeks. And I wouldn’t like to get in a fight with him – susopect he punches his weight.”
“Well, I understand he nearly tried to take out his abductors. Lucky we got there in time, before things got nasty. One bloke with a whistle against three hefty Arcturabladians with plasma guns.”
“What I don’t understand is why anyone would want to substitute their own lookalike for the referee of the Scotland Italy game? I mean, it could hardly further the cause of world domination, could it?” Archie had convinced himself that every alien being had to be descended from Napoleon.
“Not world domination, this time. Spread betting. This mob were looking to make a fortune on things like the time that penalties would be awarded, who got yellow carded and when. How far Chris Paterson would attempt a kick from.”
“Ah, Chris Paterson; he’d be Jack’s type. Him and Parisse, distinctly – what’s the term – warm?” Archie’s blue eyes danced at the thought.
“Hot. And Horatio had better not hear you talking up the opposition.”
“Horatio can lump it.”
“He’s probably lumping it out there with the rest of them. I understand that Nige is getting in a bit of match practice. Ianto offered to escort him from dressing room to pitch and then to shadow him during the match. Nige said he’d look pretty silly if he ended up handling the ball in the ruck on the five yard line and had to get a yellow card. Told him he couldn’t be trusted not to mouth swear words in front of Princess Anne. Ianto said he thought there wasn’t a swear word he could use that Her Royal Highness hadn’t uttered, and Nige made him wash his mouth out.” Bush looked suddenly serious. “Could have done with him on Renown.”
“Aye.” Archie fingered his side – he was still aware of it, sometimes.
“The swine!” Horatio barged through the door, face flushed with anger and what might just be embarrassment.
Archie’s Who? coincided with William’s What?
“That man we rescued. Very grateful to Ianto and old Oily drawers. Want to know what he said to me?”
“Oh, definitely.” Archie controlled the urge to giggle.
“He was describing these aliens and I just rolled my eyes very slightly, and gestured a mere inch or two in the air with my hand. And he said If you’re going to overact I’ll send you to drama school.”
“What a star.” Archie had at last recovered his voice, which was more than William had done, still doubled over with laughter. “I’m buying him a pint after the game.”
“I won’t be there. I shall find my own entertainment.” Horatio was going to hold this grudge for a while.
“Suit yourself. If you get bored report to the Italian dressing room – Jack has got us all passes, we’re part of the match security now.” William wheezed out the words.
“Why should I go there?”
“No particular reason, Horatio. Just ask for Mr. Parisse and say Jack sent you.”
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