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gilascaveTitle: Time Keeps On Slipping Into the Future
Author: James
Pairing: gen, with pre-slash Eliot/Alec
Fandoms: Doctor Who/Leverage
Rating: PG for grumpy retrieval specialists
Word Count: ~800
Notes: written for a prompt from comment_fic: Leverage/Dr. Who, Eliot & Eleven, On their way back to Eliot's own time, The Doctor takes a detour
Disclaimer: not mine, no profit made
Summary: Leverage/Dr. Who, Eliot & Eleven, On their way back to Eliot's own time, The Doctor takes a detour.
Eliot looked around, not surprised in the slightest that what he saw was not Boston, 21st century. "Where the hell are we?" he growled as he followed the Doctor into the square. Just ahead of him the Doctor was spinning around, awkwardly jerking back and forth as he took in their surroundings.
"Ah!" he finally said. "Burbank." He gave Eliot a pleased smile.
"Planet? Space station?" Eliot had never actually been to the original Burbank before, but this was definitely not it. For one, Burbank didn't have giant flying vehicles crowding the skies overhead, nor did it have walking frogs wearing tuxedos.
At least not when anybody was sober.
"Nope, Burbank, Earth." The Doctor smiled proudly, as if he'd had something to do with the existence of the place.
Which, Eliot reflected, he might have done. "Fine. When are we?" He wasn't seriously annoyed -- not with the Doctor though he was a little annoyed with himself. He should have known better. One quick jaunt, need someone of your expertise, the Doctor had said, stepping out of the TARDIS in the middle of Eliot's living room. Eliot had forced him to explain before he'd stepped foot in the TARDIS, but despite knowing what he'd been getting into... he should have known it wouldn't be that easy.
This current incarnation of the Doctor -- the 11th, he'd said, smiling breezily and chattering on about some girl he'd left in a freezer on Mars in the 1901th century and needed to get back to before she got cold -- was very much unlike the one Eliot had known. That Doctor had been scruffy and physically much older, never taking anything seriously but always managing to manipulate others into doing what he wanted. He'd never known quite where he stood with that incarnation -- and looking back, he could see that Nate had a lot more in common with that Doctor that Eliot should probably be comfortable with.
Eliot had actually learned a lot about how to survive in his current profession from what he'd picked up watching the Doctor in action. Conversely, this Doctor seemed more open, and Eliot found himself enjoying his short trip with him.
As long as it was a short trip. Because it seemed every incarnation was very much alike in some respects, including the tendency to never go where they said they were going, and always landing smack-dab in the middle of trouble.
Eliot crossed his arms and regarded the Doctor, waiting patiently until he answered. The Doctor grinned. "192105beta," he said, as if that meant anything to Eliot.
Which, actually, it might. Eliot thought about it again, dredging up knowledge he'd acquired over a decade ago and had never really expected to use again. "We're forty nine centuries in the future?"
"More or less, yes. Forty-nine point twelve six centuries to be precise. But this is clearly Burbank, and we should stop in and see if we can get a crab popover before we take you home!"
Eliot had had his mouth open to argue, but stopped. "They make good crab popovers here?" He hadn't had a decent crab popover since the Doctor had taken him home -- half of the ingredients weren't available on Earth in the 21st century. He glared at the Doctor's wide, grinning face. "One meal, then you're taking me home," he said, sternly.
"Promise," the Doctor said, and Eliot couldn't ignore the foreboding feeling he had at the sight of the Doctor's grin. A happy Doctor meant disaster was lurking.
But maybe if he could get some popovers to take home with him, it would be worth it.
"Hey, Doctor," Eliot said, as they headed away from the TARDIS and into the milling crowd. "Remind me to make you clean up Hardison's surveillance cameras when you take me back. I'm pretty sure he's got my place wired."
"Oh, that?" the Doctor said, shrugging. "Already sorted when I landed. Although as I recall from the last time we travelled, you find it useful to keep your husband guessing--"
Eliot slammed his hand into the Doctor's chest. "That would be one of those temporal things," he said, trying to keep his voice casual.
The Doctor blinked. "Right. Last time for me, next time for you. Nevermind!" He smiled, then sprang into the crowd towards what Eliot hoped was a lunch stall serving popovers.
But at least that answered the question of whether or not Alec would go out with him sometime.
Author: James
Pairing: gen, with pre-slash Eliot/Alec
Fandoms: Doctor Who/Leverage
Rating: PG for grumpy retrieval specialists
Word Count: ~800
Notes: written for a prompt from comment_fic: Leverage/Dr. Who, Eliot & Eleven, On their way back to Eliot's own time, The Doctor takes a detour
Disclaimer: not mine, no profit made
Summary: Leverage/Dr. Who, Eliot & Eleven, On their way back to Eliot's own time, The Doctor takes a detour.
Eliot looked around, not surprised in the slightest that what he saw was not Boston, 21st century. "Where the hell are we?" he growled as he followed the Doctor into the square. Just ahead of him the Doctor was spinning around, awkwardly jerking back and forth as he took in their surroundings.
"Ah!" he finally said. "Burbank." He gave Eliot a pleased smile.
"Planet? Space station?" Eliot had never actually been to the original Burbank before, but this was definitely not it. For one, Burbank didn't have giant flying vehicles crowding the skies overhead, nor did it have walking frogs wearing tuxedos.
At least not when anybody was sober.
"Nope, Burbank, Earth." The Doctor smiled proudly, as if he'd had something to do with the existence of the place.
Which, Eliot reflected, he might have done. "Fine. When are we?" He wasn't seriously annoyed -- not with the Doctor though he was a little annoyed with himself. He should have known better. One quick jaunt, need someone of your expertise, the Doctor had said, stepping out of the TARDIS in the middle of Eliot's living room. Eliot had forced him to explain before he'd stepped foot in the TARDIS, but despite knowing what he'd been getting into... he should have known it wouldn't be that easy.
This current incarnation of the Doctor -- the 11th, he'd said, smiling breezily and chattering on about some girl he'd left in a freezer on Mars in the 1901th century and needed to get back to before she got cold -- was very much unlike the one Eliot had known. That Doctor had been scruffy and physically much older, never taking anything seriously but always managing to manipulate others into doing what he wanted. He'd never known quite where he stood with that incarnation -- and looking back, he could see that Nate had a lot more in common with that Doctor that Eliot should probably be comfortable with.
Eliot had actually learned a lot about how to survive in his current profession from what he'd picked up watching the Doctor in action. Conversely, this Doctor seemed more open, and Eliot found himself enjoying his short trip with him.
As long as it was a short trip. Because it seemed every incarnation was very much alike in some respects, including the tendency to never go where they said they were going, and always landing smack-dab in the middle of trouble.
Eliot crossed his arms and regarded the Doctor, waiting patiently until he answered. The Doctor grinned. "192105beta," he said, as if that meant anything to Eliot.
Which, actually, it might. Eliot thought about it again, dredging up knowledge he'd acquired over a decade ago and had never really expected to use again. "We're forty nine centuries in the future?"
"More or less, yes. Forty-nine point twelve six centuries to be precise. But this is clearly Burbank, and we should stop in and see if we can get a crab popover before we take you home!"
Eliot had had his mouth open to argue, but stopped. "They make good crab popovers here?" He hadn't had a decent crab popover since the Doctor had taken him home -- half of the ingredients weren't available on Earth in the 21st century. He glared at the Doctor's wide, grinning face. "One meal, then you're taking me home," he said, sternly.
"Promise," the Doctor said, and Eliot couldn't ignore the foreboding feeling he had at the sight of the Doctor's grin. A happy Doctor meant disaster was lurking.
But maybe if he could get some popovers to take home with him, it would be worth it.
"Hey, Doctor," Eliot said, as they headed away from the TARDIS and into the milling crowd. "Remind me to make you clean up Hardison's surveillance cameras when you take me back. I'm pretty sure he's got my place wired."
"Oh, that?" the Doctor said, shrugging. "Already sorted when I landed. Although as I recall from the last time we travelled, you find it useful to keep your husband guessing--"
Eliot slammed his hand into the Doctor's chest. "That would be one of those temporal things," he said, trying to keep his voice casual.
The Doctor blinked. "Right. Last time for me, next time for you. Nevermind!" He smiled, then sprang into the crowd towards what Eliot hoped was a lunch stall serving popovers.
But at least that answered the question of whether or not Alec would go out with him sometime.