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bookblather, who requested that Mickey Smith and Daniel Jackson meet in a bar on another planet. This is utterly ridiculous crack, and I make no apologies.
Title: Last Call
Word Count: 978
Rating: PG
Characters: Mickey Smith, Daniel Jackson, Jack O'Neill, Sam Carter, Teal'c, Rose Tyler, Tenth Doctor
Warnings: None
Summary: Mickey Smith and Daniel Jackson walk into a bar.
"Another round, mate," Mickey says. The bartender stares at him – he thinks it’s staring, anyway, and yeah, that lack of eyes is really starting to get disconcerting – and eventually emerges with a newly filled glass in an anatomically correct shape that Mickey’s trying very hard to ignore. "Cheers," Mickey says, and downs half of it in one gulp.
It tastes a bit like really, really bad rum. In a good way.
Anyway, the Doctor’s convinced humans will metabolize it almost instantly, and Mickey’s got every intention of holding him to that, because everyone seems to be a bit more cautious around him now that he’s swigged enough to down a small army. And while the Doctor and Rose are off doing whatever it is they’re doing, having the denizens of an alien bar on a totally unknown alien planet be a little cautious is probably a good thing.
He swivels on his antigrav stool, experimentally, and nearly collides with another human. Another human from the planet Earth. Another human from the planet Earth from modern times, if the wristwatch and quasi-military fashion sense is any indicator.
"Whoa," he says.
"Yeah," says the other bloke, eyes wide behind the too-big lenses of his glasses. "Whoa."
So Mickey does the only thing he can think to do when meeting up with a fellow intergalactic traveller on an unknown planet: he buys him a drink.
The man’s name is Daniel, he’s American, and he’s an archaeologist, which explains the way he studiously examines the shape of the glass and comes up with a clever explanation for its origin, rather than just sniggering a lot. Apart from that, he’s a bit cagey with his answers, and Mickey adopts the same hush-hush sort of tone, because it’s probably better if Daniel thinks he’s also some sort of top-secret military type, rather than a normal guy who happens to wander time and space in a police box. With an alien. That sort of thing rarely goes over well.
At first, they can’t find a whole lot to talk about, because Mickey’s starting to suspect, what, early nineties, and meeting up with someone from Earth on a random planet is weird enough without having to factor in ten or fifteen years of time travel. People, however, are one constant, and Daniel is surprisingly easy to talk to, so Mickey tells him a bit about Rose, about how he thinks she’s travelling to get away from her life, and how he thinks maybe he’s travelling to find his. He doesn’t talk about the Doctor.
In return, Daniel talks with exasperated fondness about someone named Jack, and Mickey's immensely relieved when the name O’Neill makes an appearance, rather than Harkness. Daniel also makes a brief allusion to a wife who’s missing somewhere, abducted by somebody, and abruptly segues into a long story about someone named Sam and someone whose name can’t possibly be Tilk.
By the end of it, they’re both laughing a little too loudly, and by the time Mickey starts to wonder if maybe the Doctor wasn’t stretching the truth a bit about the fast-metabolising thing, they’re both completely and utterly pissed.
"Having fun, Daniel?"
They turn in unison, nearly fall off their stools in unison, realize that their high-tech antigrav chairs have prevented them from doing so in unison, and burst into thoroughly undignified giggles in unison.
"Jack," says Daniel. "Jack Jack Jack."
The newcomer – Mickey’s willing to go out on a limb and dub him ‘Jack’ – raises an eyebrow. "Oh, this is going to be fun."
A second man, with a strange gold emblem on his forehead, takes a step forward. "This does not seem like a prudent course of action, Daniel Jackson."
A woman ducks her head around him, and her reaction seems torn between second-hand embarrassment and something approaching blackmail material-related glee. "Daniel, what are you doing?"
"Blending," Daniel says, and tries it a few more times, until Mickey waves to cut him off. "Blendendending. With the locals. Like we said." He holds up his glass. "Want some?"
They’re all silent for a moment, taking in the shape of the drinking vessel, and then they all snigger.
"Okay," says Jack, and grabs Daniel by the arm. "You’ve had enough. Time to go home. Doc Fraiser’s going to want to take a look at you."
"Wait. I’m drunk, aren’t I?" Daniel frowns at Mickey. "But we were supposed to metab- metabili- betam-"
"Metabolify," Mickey says, because he’s always been good at enunciating while completely smashed. "Yeah, sorry, mate. The Doctor’s a lying bastard sometimes."
"Oh," says Daniel, and hops off his stool. "Well, thanks for the drink, Mickey. I hope Buttercup-"
"Rose," Mickey says.
"-right, right, Rose, I hope she finds what she’s looking for, you know? And you too."
Mickey grins and pats him on the shoulder. "Okay. And you keep looking for your wife. She’s gotta be out there somewhere, you know?"
Daniel’s face darkens for a moment, but his smile is genuine enough. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah. Thanks."
"See you," Mickey says, and they wander off into the crowd.
Much later, when he and Rose and the Doctor are heading back to some approximation of modern-day London, when Mickey’s just starting to wonder whether the Doctor keeps a stash of intergalactic hangover cures in the TARDIS, he thinks to ask Rose what they were doing on that planet in the first place.
She shrugs. "The Doctor thought he saw some sort of spatial anomaly. A wormhole, apparently."
"Huh," says Mickey. "Would that wormhole have the potential to transport people from Earth to that planet, by any chance?"
Rose blinks. "He couldn’t figure out how to activate it. Why?"
Mickey grins. "No reason," he says, but after that, the universe seems just a little bit smaller, just a little bit more familiar, just a little bit closer to home.
bookblather, who requested that Mickey Smith and Daniel Jackson meet in a bar on another planet. This is utterly ridiculous crack, and I make no apologies.Title: Last Call
Word Count: 978
Rating: PG
Characters: Mickey Smith, Daniel Jackson, Jack O'Neill, Sam Carter, Teal'c, Rose Tyler, Tenth Doctor
Warnings: None
Summary: Mickey Smith and Daniel Jackson walk into a bar.
"Another round, mate," Mickey says. The bartender stares at him – he thinks it’s staring, anyway, and yeah, that lack of eyes is really starting to get disconcerting – and eventually emerges with a newly filled glass in an anatomically correct shape that Mickey’s trying very hard to ignore. "Cheers," Mickey says, and downs half of it in one gulp.
It tastes a bit like really, really bad rum. In a good way.
Anyway, the Doctor’s convinced humans will metabolize it almost instantly, and Mickey’s got every intention of holding him to that, because everyone seems to be a bit more cautious around him now that he’s swigged enough to down a small army. And while the Doctor and Rose are off doing whatever it is they’re doing, having the denizens of an alien bar on a totally unknown alien planet be a little cautious is probably a good thing.
He swivels on his antigrav stool, experimentally, and nearly collides with another human. Another human from the planet Earth. Another human from the planet Earth from modern times, if the wristwatch and quasi-military fashion sense is any indicator.
"Whoa," he says.
"Yeah," says the other bloke, eyes wide behind the too-big lenses of his glasses. "Whoa."
So Mickey does the only thing he can think to do when meeting up with a fellow intergalactic traveller on an unknown planet: he buys him a drink.
The man’s name is Daniel, he’s American, and he’s an archaeologist, which explains the way he studiously examines the shape of the glass and comes up with a clever explanation for its origin, rather than just sniggering a lot. Apart from that, he’s a bit cagey with his answers, and Mickey adopts the same hush-hush sort of tone, because it’s probably better if Daniel thinks he’s also some sort of top-secret military type, rather than a normal guy who happens to wander time and space in a police box. With an alien. That sort of thing rarely goes over well.
At first, they can’t find a whole lot to talk about, because Mickey’s starting to suspect, what, early nineties, and meeting up with someone from Earth on a random planet is weird enough without having to factor in ten or fifteen years of time travel. People, however, are one constant, and Daniel is surprisingly easy to talk to, so Mickey tells him a bit about Rose, about how he thinks she’s travelling to get away from her life, and how he thinks maybe he’s travelling to find his. He doesn’t talk about the Doctor.
In return, Daniel talks with exasperated fondness about someone named Jack, and Mickey's immensely relieved when the name O’Neill makes an appearance, rather than Harkness. Daniel also makes a brief allusion to a wife who’s missing somewhere, abducted by somebody, and abruptly segues into a long story about someone named Sam and someone whose name can’t possibly be Tilk.
By the end of it, they’re both laughing a little too loudly, and by the time Mickey starts to wonder if maybe the Doctor wasn’t stretching the truth a bit about the fast-metabolising thing, they’re both completely and utterly pissed.
"Having fun, Daniel?"
They turn in unison, nearly fall off their stools in unison, realize that their high-tech antigrav chairs have prevented them from doing so in unison, and burst into thoroughly undignified giggles in unison.
"Jack," says Daniel. "Jack Jack Jack."
The newcomer – Mickey’s willing to go out on a limb and dub him ‘Jack’ – raises an eyebrow. "Oh, this is going to be fun."
A second man, with a strange gold emblem on his forehead, takes a step forward. "This does not seem like a prudent course of action, Daniel Jackson."
A woman ducks her head around him, and her reaction seems torn between second-hand embarrassment and something approaching blackmail material-related glee. "Daniel, what are you doing?"
"Blending," Daniel says, and tries it a few more times, until Mickey waves to cut him off. "Blendendending. With the locals. Like we said." He holds up his glass. "Want some?"
They’re all silent for a moment, taking in the shape of the drinking vessel, and then they all snigger.
"Okay," says Jack, and grabs Daniel by the arm. "You’ve had enough. Time to go home. Doc Fraiser’s going to want to take a look at you."
"Wait. I’m drunk, aren’t I?" Daniel frowns at Mickey. "But we were supposed to metab- metabili- betam-"
"Metabolify," Mickey says, because he’s always been good at enunciating while completely smashed. "Yeah, sorry, mate. The Doctor’s a lying bastard sometimes."
"Oh," says Daniel, and hops off his stool. "Well, thanks for the drink, Mickey. I hope Buttercup-"
"Rose," Mickey says.
"-right, right, Rose, I hope she finds what she’s looking for, you know? And you too."
Mickey grins and pats him on the shoulder. "Okay. And you keep looking for your wife. She’s gotta be out there somewhere, you know?"
Daniel’s face darkens for a moment, but his smile is genuine enough. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah. Thanks."
"See you," Mickey says, and they wander off into the crowd.
Much later, when he and Rose and the Doctor are heading back to some approximation of modern-day London, when Mickey’s just starting to wonder whether the Doctor keeps a stash of intergalactic hangover cures in the TARDIS, he thinks to ask Rose what they were doing on that planet in the first place.
She shrugs. "The Doctor thought he saw some sort of spatial anomaly. A wormhole, apparently."
"Huh," says Mickey. "Would that wormhole have the potential to transport people from Earth to that planet, by any chance?"
Rose blinks. "He couldn’t figure out how to activate it. Why?"
Mickey grins. "No reason," he says, but after that, the universe seems just a little bit smaller, just a little bit more familiar, just a little bit closer to home.
