Crossover drabblememe

[jamjar]

Because I need a little distraction and I want to get a little writing practise even before I start railing against the Yuletide deadline:

From daegaer

Give me the premise for a crossover (example: someone in a fairytale meets the devil, who turn out to be Crowley), a fusion (example: Midsomer Murders and Weiss Kreuz fusion: the peaceful English countryside plus assassins - let's face it, it would explain a lot about the death rate . . .) or an AU (example: the Fenndom sci-fi AU - the Victorian British empire in Spaaaace!). I will write you one to three sentences* of fic based on that premise.

*Or, you know, more.

Good fandoms include (but are not limited to) Life, The Mentalist, Better Off Ted, The Big Bang Theory, Modern Family, Bandom, Young Justice, Sherlock Holmes Vorkosignan series, Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, Chalion, Good Omens, Neverwhere, Discworld, Johnny Maxwell, M.A.S.H., Dianna Wynne Jones, Doctrine of Labynths, Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, YYH, Petshop of Horrors, Crimson Hero, Dead Like Me, From Eroica with Love, Buffy The Vampire Slayer, Highlander, Doctor Who, Merlin, fairy tales, Superboy, Neverwhere, D.E.B.S, Stick It, Ima Ai Ni Yukimasu,Star Trek IX, DS9, Temeraire

Comments

Methos goes book shopping

[jamjar]

In certain very particular circles, this shop was... well, not famous, exactly, but almost everyone on the mailing list had had at least one book stolen from them at auction by the owner, or at least one story about trying to navigate the shop's byzantine opening hours to try to buy something. Methos had done his research, checking opening hours by a process of elimination before finally resorting to paying the nice couple that ran the sex shop next door to text him when someone

The sign on the door said open and there was someone inside, hunched over a book behind the counter. "Hello?" Methos said, louder this time. He tried knocking, but the figure didn't raise its head. "Excuse me! I'm trying to-- fine, then." He put his shoulder to the door and shoved.

There was a particular smell to old bookshops. Paper and dust and old glue, and more than that, the smell of words. Methos had never quite lost the tactile association with words, the way they felt under his fingertips pressed into clay, the subtle differences in texture in illuminated manuscripts or the imprint of words from a typewriter. Sounds, too, chisel on stone, scratch of quill on parchment and even the skrrp of a dot matrix printer.

Most bookshops that dealt with books as old as this one also smelt of beeswax and wood and care. This bookshop smelt of dust and cups of cocoa gone cold.

The figure behind the counter looked up, surprised. "What?"

"Your door's a bit stiff," Methos said, smiling disarmingly.

The man's expression was vaguely affronted. He put the book he was reading down. "It's the weather," he said, a little late. "It sticks in the damp." He glared at the door, then seemed to remember Methos was there. "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for a particular book," Methos said. "A copy of Cyrano de Bergerac." He headed over to one of the locked cabinets.

"Have you tried a library? They're full of books, usually for free."

"A first edition of the English translation. Good god, is that a Duoi?" It was, an 18th century edition and-- "Is that the Manchester edition? And-- no, that can't possibly be the Fool's Bible." Oh, he remembered the fuss when that one was published.

The man appeared next to him, leaning against the glass door of the cabinet. "Are you a collector?" He said, in the same tone that someone might ask, "Are you a violent and murderous thief?" As if some part of him was already reaching behind the counter for a baseball bat. Or, given his extreme air of englishness, a cricket bat.

Methos laughed and tried to look harmless. "Oh, I wouldn't go that far, a collector. I was just admiring your collection." No chance of persuading the man to sell, he could see that much. Best to come back in a year or two...

The bookshop owner looked like he was on the verge of throwing himself in front of the cabinet. His eyes narrowed and Methos felt an odd tug, a nagging sensation as if his conscience had decided to remind him of its presence.

Well, he appreciated a good obsession... perhaps he could play a long game and wait until the man died? Choked to death on the dust in this place or something.

His conscience, apparently deciding that that was close enough, happily let pragmatism take its place.

Methos took off, whistling an old tune. It was always nice to have something to look forward to.

~~~


Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief. He'd have to sort something out in the next year or two, before that wretched fellow decided to see if he was still alive, but it could have been worse.

At least he hadn't recognized him.

Re: Methos goes book shopping

[petra]

I love the long game approach and its inevitable failure given the circs. <3

Re: Methos goes book shopping

[jamjar]

Missing scene:

"Adam, have you finished-- you!" Duncan stopped midsentence, like he'd been hit by a brick or, more likely, a memory. "You stole my book!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Mr Fell said. "None."

"You said you were just going to check a translation and then when I turned back, you'd gone!"

"You must be mistaking me for someone else," Mr Fell said, sounding more guilty with every word. "Possibly my grandfather?"

(In my head, Aziraphale once walked off with Duncan's first edition, signed by the translator, copy of Cyrano De Bergerac. Duncan has held a grudge.)

Re: Methos goes book shopping

[petra]

Oh, Aziraphale. He's so bad at being really properly Angelic. <3

Re: Methos goes book shopping

[jamjar]

Oh, I don't know. As long as it doesn't involve books, reservations, people that jump queues or people that take the last biscuit without even a courtesy "Do you...? Oh, well I guess I'll finish it off then." he's probably fine.

And at least half of those are entirely justified uses of divine wrath.

Re: Methos goes book shopping

[petra]

Well, and then there are Regency silver snuffboxes.