Erin Ptah (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ptahrrific) wrote2008-10-06 12:20 am
ptahrrific) wrote2008-10-06 12:20 am
Entry tags:
Fake News/Doctor Who: I'm Your Moon, part 3
Title: I'm Your Moon (3/9)
Rating: PG (the wet and soapy kind)
Series: The Colbert Report, Doctor Who
Spoilers: Anything through New Who S3/Torchwood S2 is fair game.
Summary: Four and Sarah Jane are treated to dinner on the psi-moon. Young Stephen gets some scrubbing; adult Stephen is still MIA.
A few readers recognized the setting from the Red Dwarf episode Terrorform. If you haven't seen it, check YouTube (1 2 3). Here's a small sample to entice you:
"This 'Master' character, and I acknowledge that I may not want to know the full answer to this one, but why does he want me oily in particular? Obviously whatever he has in mind is facilitated by my being slippery and pliant, yes?"
(It's exactly what you think. Only better.)
Beta and Brit-picking by the transcendentstellar_dust. Table of contents, and footnotes, here.
I'm Your Moon
Part Three
Earth: 1562.
"Sir? Come with me, please."
The speaker was a boy a little younger than Stephen, wearing a rich blue cotton wrap with crescent moons embroidered on the hem. Most of his dark hair had been shaved, but what was left curled softly on the crown of his head. Like all the other attendants, he was stunningly beautiful.
"O-okay," said Stephen shakily. "But no gay stuff."
The other boy's face lit up. "You speak my language!"
"Uh, yes." Stephen cleared his throat and tried to look as though he had planned it that way. "It's a gift."
"Forgive my enthusiasm, sir," said the boy, leading Stephen over to an open fountain. "It's been so many years since anyone has spoken to me in my mother tongue. Please, sit down."
As he sat on the low marble shelf and had warm water poured over him, Stephen put it together. The TARDIS automatically rendered everything he heard into English and everything he said into the local vernacular, which around here meant ancient Turkish. But if Turkish wasn't this boy's first language, the TARDIS would make Stephen appear to be speaking whatever tongue he knew best. It was all very Pentacostal.
Stephen was trying to think of a way to figure out what language the other boy was speaking—it wasn't the kind of question you could just ask outright—when he felt his head being pushed forward and down. "Hey! What do you think you're doing?"
"Sir, I must wash your back."
"Oh," said Stephen. "I guess that makes sense."
He was still tense, though, as he allowed himself to be bent forward.
⇔
The psi-moon: 2,999,404 AD
"Is it safe to eat this stuff?" asked Sarah Jane. "I don't want to accidentally chew off one of Stephen's neurons, or something."
"Perfectly safe!" said Confidence from her left. "Dig in!"
This would have been more reassuring if Sarah Jane hadn't figured out that Confidence said everything, however nonsensical, with utter certainty. She turned to her right. "Doctor?"
"Hm?" said the Doctor, who was helping himself to a generous serving of peach cobbler. "Oh, yes! Not everything here is deeply symbolic. The food is nothing more than Stephen's idea of a good meal."
Sarah Jane took a burger from a tray in the center of the table. It was thick and juicy, with grease leaking through the bun and dripping down its sides. "I'm surprised his arteries haven't completely solidified."
"Don't be silly," said Confidence. "His diet is perfectly healthy."
Ignoring him, Sarah Jane took a cautious bite of the burger (which was delicious, if nothing else) and turned her attention to the rest of the table.
Now that she had the time to study them at her leisure, she could see that the various Stephens were not in fact identical. For one thing, they were all in different suits, in variations of grey, black, and navy with the occasional pinstripe, and a fine variety of ties. But there were subtler differences, and the more she looked for these, the more she saw.
Confidence, like Truthiness, had perfect hair, along with a notably strong chin. Heterosexuality, on the far side of the Doctor, had a shorter haircut and a tendency to leer that Sarah Jane had already marked. One of the Stephens sitting across from her, who had introduced himself as Charm, was slightly fitter, with a few locks of hair falling boyishly across his forehead. Beside him was Guts, wide-eyed and just muscular enough that it showed in spite of the suit. And Piety, next, was the only one in white, quiet and subdued with a rosary around one wrist.
She wasn't sure which of them was trying to play footsie with her under the table. Guts would have, well, the guts, but she wasn't sure he was that subtle. Charm, on the other hand, seemed too gentlemanly. Unless this was Stephen's idea of being charming.
In spite of all these variations, though, Sarah Jane couldn't shake the feeling that there was something missing. She had seen Stephen in enough situations to realize that his mask of perfection slipped, and often. Even the most disheveled of these Stephens was no more than artistically rumpled.
"Excuse me," she said to Confidence. "Is there anyone here named . . ." It would probably be impolite to ask about Insecurity, or Fear, or Doubt. ". . . Childlike Wonder?"
"Never heard of 'im," said Confidence. "Have some Doritos."
⇔
Earth: 1562.
"You really must relax, sir," said the attendant, after making his third attempt to lift one of Stephen's arms only to have it reflexively yanked away.
"I'm relaxed!" insisted Stephen. "Is this going to take long?"
"Very long, I'm afraid. You're quite a mess."
"I'm not usually a dirty person," Stephen grumbled, looking askance at the rivulets of brown water flowing away around his feet. For ten minutes now the other boy had been alternately rubbing his skin vigorously with some kind of rough mitt and pouring more warm water over his head, and it still wasn't coming off clear. "Most of the time I'm very clean. This is a fluke. You get that, right?"
"I believe you, sir."
"Good!"
"And you will be clean again soon, if only you will allow me to do my job."
Stephen took a deep breath. This isn't wrong, he told himself firmly, not for the first time. He's just doing his job. And, given that his job is to bathe me, the fact that we're both wet and slippery is perfectly natural.
"Please, sir," said the boy, putting a hand on Stephen's knee and looking him in the eye. "Trust me."
His eyes were soft.
His hand wasn't, but it was the one with the mitt on, so that couldn't be helped.
This isn't wrong.
Stephen swallowed. "Okay. I'll trust you."
⇔
The psi-moon: 2,999,404 AD
"I can't believe it. Stephen imagines himself having his own flavor of ice cream?"
"Oh, no, this is an actual flavor," the Doctor assured her. "Ben & Jerry's started making it in 2007. I'm pretty sure the Colbert-themed toppings are all in his head, though."
"Let's hope so," said Sarah Jane, pouring a heap of C-shaped red, white, and blue sprinkles on her bowl.
She was spooning up the last of her helping when the tink-tink-tink of a spoon tapped on a glass echoed around the room. The conversation stilled as all eyes turned to the head of the table, where Truthiness was standing and signaling for their attention. "A moment, a moment please! . . . Thank you! I'm so glad all of you could grace us with your company this evening. I hope you've been enjoying your meal?"
There was a general murmur of assent all round, and several glasses were raised.
"That's great," said Truthiness with a broad and toothy smile. "It's been a pleasure, a real pleasure. Now, I hate to rush you, but do try to finish quickly. We have some really fine after-dinner entertainment planned, and it would be a shame to keep the executioner waiting."
⇔
The first thing Stephen became aware of as his consciousness returned was the fact that he ached. All over.
The second was that it was very dark.
He sat up slowly, feeling hard dirt under his palms, hearing the rustle of trees around him. "Hello?" he called tentatively. "Doctor? Sarah Jane? Anyone?"
There was no answer, but not far off, a twig cracked.
And, on second thought, some of that rustling sounded remarkably like heavy breathing.
"Okay, a quick correction," Stephen said into the darkness. "When I said 'anyone'? I didn't actually mean it."
Rating: PG (the wet and soapy kind)
Series: The Colbert Report, Doctor Who
Spoilers: Anything through New Who S3/Torchwood S2 is fair game.
Summary: Four and Sarah Jane are treated to dinner on the psi-moon. Young Stephen gets some scrubbing; adult Stephen is still MIA.
A few readers recognized the setting from the Red Dwarf episode Terrorform. If you haven't seen it, check YouTube (1 2 3). Here's a small sample to entice you:
"This 'Master' character, and I acknowledge that I may not want to know the full answer to this one, but why does he want me oily in particular? Obviously whatever he has in mind is facilitated by my being slippery and pliant, yes?"
(It's exactly what you think. Only better.)
Beta and Brit-picking by the transcendent
stellar_dust. Table of contents, and footnotes, here.I'm Your Moon
Part Three
Earth: 1562.
"Sir? Come with me, please."
The speaker was a boy a little younger than Stephen, wearing a rich blue cotton wrap with crescent moons embroidered on the hem. Most of his dark hair had been shaved, but what was left curled softly on the crown of his head. Like all the other attendants, he was stunningly beautiful.
"O-okay," said Stephen shakily. "But no gay stuff."
The other boy's face lit up. "You speak my language!"
"Uh, yes." Stephen cleared his throat and tried to look as though he had planned it that way. "It's a gift."
"Forgive my enthusiasm, sir," said the boy, leading Stephen over to an open fountain. "It's been so many years since anyone has spoken to me in my mother tongue. Please, sit down."
As he sat on the low marble shelf and had warm water poured over him, Stephen put it together. The TARDIS automatically rendered everything he heard into English and everything he said into the local vernacular, which around here meant ancient Turkish. But if Turkish wasn't this boy's first language, the TARDIS would make Stephen appear to be speaking whatever tongue he knew best. It was all very Pentacostal.
Stephen was trying to think of a way to figure out what language the other boy was speaking—it wasn't the kind of question you could just ask outright—when he felt his head being pushed forward and down. "Hey! What do you think you're doing?"
"Sir, I must wash your back."
"Oh," said Stephen. "I guess that makes sense."
He was still tense, though, as he allowed himself to be bent forward.
The psi-moon: 2,999,404 AD
"Is it safe to eat this stuff?" asked Sarah Jane. "I don't want to accidentally chew off one of Stephen's neurons, or something."
"Perfectly safe!" said Confidence from her left. "Dig in!"
This would have been more reassuring if Sarah Jane hadn't figured out that Confidence said everything, however nonsensical, with utter certainty. She turned to her right. "Doctor?"
"Hm?" said the Doctor, who was helping himself to a generous serving of peach cobbler. "Oh, yes! Not everything here is deeply symbolic. The food is nothing more than Stephen's idea of a good meal."
Sarah Jane took a burger from a tray in the center of the table. It was thick and juicy, with grease leaking through the bun and dripping down its sides. "I'm surprised his arteries haven't completely solidified."
"Don't be silly," said Confidence. "His diet is perfectly healthy."
Ignoring him, Sarah Jane took a cautious bite of the burger (which was delicious, if nothing else) and turned her attention to the rest of the table.
Now that she had the time to study them at her leisure, she could see that the various Stephens were not in fact identical. For one thing, they were all in different suits, in variations of grey, black, and navy with the occasional pinstripe, and a fine variety of ties. But there were subtler differences, and the more she looked for these, the more she saw.
Confidence, like Truthiness, had perfect hair, along with a notably strong chin. Heterosexuality, on the far side of the Doctor, had a shorter haircut and a tendency to leer that Sarah Jane had already marked. One of the Stephens sitting across from her, who had introduced himself as Charm, was slightly fitter, with a few locks of hair falling boyishly across his forehead. Beside him was Guts, wide-eyed and just muscular enough that it showed in spite of the suit. And Piety, next, was the only one in white, quiet and subdued with a rosary around one wrist.
She wasn't sure which of them was trying to play footsie with her under the table. Guts would have, well, the guts, but she wasn't sure he was that subtle. Charm, on the other hand, seemed too gentlemanly. Unless this was Stephen's idea of being charming.
In spite of all these variations, though, Sarah Jane couldn't shake the feeling that there was something missing. She had seen Stephen in enough situations to realize that his mask of perfection slipped, and often. Even the most disheveled of these Stephens was no more than artistically rumpled.
"Excuse me," she said to Confidence. "Is there anyone here named . . ." It would probably be impolite to ask about Insecurity, or Fear, or Doubt. ". . . Childlike Wonder?"
"Never heard of 'im," said Confidence. "Have some Doritos."
Earth: 1562.
"You really must relax, sir," said the attendant, after making his third attempt to lift one of Stephen's arms only to have it reflexively yanked away.
"I'm relaxed!" insisted Stephen. "Is this going to take long?"
"Very long, I'm afraid. You're quite a mess."
"I'm not usually a dirty person," Stephen grumbled, looking askance at the rivulets of brown water flowing away around his feet. For ten minutes now the other boy had been alternately rubbing his skin vigorously with some kind of rough mitt and pouring more warm water over his head, and it still wasn't coming off clear. "Most of the time I'm very clean. This is a fluke. You get that, right?"
"I believe you, sir."
"Good!"
"And you will be clean again soon, if only you will allow me to do my job."
Stephen took a deep breath. This isn't wrong, he told himself firmly, not for the first time. He's just doing his job. And, given that his job is to bathe me, the fact that we're both wet and slippery is perfectly natural.
"Please, sir," said the boy, putting a hand on Stephen's knee and looking him in the eye. "Trust me."
His eyes were soft.
His hand wasn't, but it was the one with the mitt on, so that couldn't be helped.
This isn't wrong.
Stephen swallowed. "Okay. I'll trust you."
The psi-moon: 2,999,404 AD
"I can't believe it. Stephen imagines himself having his own flavor of ice cream?"
"Oh, no, this is an actual flavor," the Doctor assured her. "Ben & Jerry's started making it in 2007. I'm pretty sure the Colbert-themed toppings are all in his head, though."
"Let's hope so," said Sarah Jane, pouring a heap of C-shaped red, white, and blue sprinkles on her bowl.
She was spooning up the last of her helping when the tink-tink-tink of a spoon tapped on a glass echoed around the room. The conversation stilled as all eyes turned to the head of the table, where Truthiness was standing and signaling for their attention. "A moment, a moment please! . . . Thank you! I'm so glad all of you could grace us with your company this evening. I hope you've been enjoying your meal?"
There was a general murmur of assent all round, and several glasses were raised.
"That's great," said Truthiness with a broad and toothy smile. "It's been a pleasure, a real pleasure. Now, I hate to rush you, but do try to finish quickly. We have some really fine after-dinner entertainment planned, and it would be a shame to keep the executioner waiting."
The first thing Stephen became aware of as his consciousness returned was the fact that he ached. All over.
The second was that it was very dark.
He sat up slowly, feeling hard dirt under his palms, hearing the rustle of trees around him. "Hello?" he called tentatively. "Doctor? Sarah Jane? Anyone?"
There was no answer, but not far off, a twig cracked.
And, on second thought, some of that rustling sounded remarkably like heavy breathing.
"Okay, a quick correction," Stephen said into the darkness. "When I said 'anyone'? I didn't actually mean it."
no subject
Still love that bit. Aw.
D'you believe, I haven't been able to find Americone Dream around here for months. I hope they aren't phasing it out!
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We should have found you some at con.txt!
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I continue to LOL at ickle!Stephen and the Turkish baths. He's being scrubbed down by a beautiful boy? This will surely be fun. =P
Much love for this.
no subject
...gosh, what could have given you that idea?
Thanks!
no subject
And I just realized Jack wasn't in this one to make a move, but still.
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Because seriously, I'm thinking young!Stephen could use that bit of debauchery. ;p
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Young!Stephen could use a lot of things =3
no subject
The Turkish bath continues to be very amusing :-D
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Thanks!
no subject
(Anonymous) 2008-10-07 09:46 pm (UTC)(link)"Perfectly safe!" said Confidence from her left. "Dig in!"
...dude. brilliant.
also? HOT.
and i like Confidence and them.
Doctor knows so much about Stephen-flavored ice cream!
moarsoonplz,
Kagaya
no subject
"Stephen-flavored"...well, Stephen-named, at least. (Only a select few people know what Stephen's flavor is...)