freakiestshow @ 2005-12-30T14:03:00

2005-12-30T14:03:16Z

Xmas Fic: for and_i

Title: OMGWTF, Part One (Yes, there will be more. I'm so sorry)
Pairing: The Tenth Doctor/The Backstreet Boys

The broken-down Tardis hummed and clicked in the sweltering air, projecting an air of smug contentment that really really hacked the Tenth Doctor off. Of all the times and places he could have spontaneously been transported to today, Orlando, FLA, 1997 ranked quite possibly as the lowest of the low (with the obvious exception of Rhyl, 1977)... since Rose was visiting home, and he couldn’t quite bring himself to visit Disneyworld without her. No amount of kicking, screaming, swearing, eyeballing or threatening could persuade the “useless stupid piece of crap” machine to move from where it (she? he? zie?) rested, and the Doctor was just about to employ his Sonic Screwdriver in a way that was definitely not recommended in the handbook when he realised, suddenly, with an unsettling grin of contentment, that he was being watched. The Doctor liked being watched. It was one of the funky things about the new him. Good hair, nice nipples, perfect bellybutton, even if he did say so himself, and the ability to attract attention just by walking into a room. Or, in this case, threatening to unzip his flies and piss all over the stoop of an antique British policebox. Either way, he was pretty damn stunning, if inexplicably not as ginger as he had hoped.
His observer was young, about Rose’s age, and dark, and was concealing his too-obvious attention behind a pair of huge sunglasses. He was handsome enough, the Doctor supposed, if you liked them gawky and coltish, which he... well, he didn’t really, not at all, but he would do in a pinch, and the Doctor was all about pinching these days, and nibbling, and maybe a little light spanking. As he sauntered over to the boy, flicking the good hair and hoping the his shirt caused enough friction to keep the nice nipples on display, he made a note to do some research into the positive effects of regeneration in the area of sexuality. He hadn’t been this horny in centuries.
“... Hi,” said the boy, before the Doctor could even open his mouth, and that was good too, fantastic in fact, because this child was forward, and fearless, and his voice was huskily sexy, far too old to have emitted from his slender throat.
“Hi!” he said in return, bright and inane, his head tilting to one side with the force of his lopsided grin. “Ever shagged an alien?” The boy regarded him stoically for a moment, tanned brow furrowing, then shrugged, lighting a cigarette one-handed.
“You offerin’?” he asked, baring a feral grin of his own as he exhaled smoke.
“Looks like it, yeah!” exclaimed the Doctor, bouncing on his heels in childlike glee.
“Lessgo then,” said the boy, unruffled and laconic. “M’place is just over there.”

***

Kevin Richardson was having a Very Bad Day. It was the kind of Bad Day that spanned time and space to become a Bad Day of such proportions that it would ever thereafter only be referred to as That Time When... in tones of hushed reverence. First, there had been Nicky. His tantrum that morning had been epic, awe-inspiring, even Oscar-worthy. He had screamed, stomped, bitten, kicked, wailed and vomited (in no particular order) until Kevin had forgotten what they were arguing about and capitulated to his vague and evasive demands simply for the pleasure of not having to look at his face for an hour or two.
Then, Brian and Howie had had the sort of spitting, hissing catfight that could only occur when two otherwise mild-mannered and pleasant young men both needed to use the bathroom at exactly the same time in preparation for their respective dates. If Kevin thought about it for too long, he could still feel Howie’s terrifying castrati screech of “But my haaaaaaaair will frizz!!” reverberating through his ear-drums. In the end he had been forced to leave the house altogether before Brian realised that his favourite shirt, the purple one that didn’t suit him at all, was currently residing under Howie’s bed, covered in a substance that the latter firmly proclaimed to be hair-gel, though Kevin wasn’t so sure. At the coffeehouse, Kevin had received a message to his pager from his on-off girlfriend informing him that they were most definitely off; on the way home, he was fairly sure he had seen Nick being forcibly ejected from a seedy-looking bar; and now, back in the apartment, he was standing stock-still in the doorway, staring open-mouthed at AJ, his little brother AJ, naked on his knees in the living room with his face buried in the lap of a grinning, groaning stranger.
“Hello!” said the stranger, who, Kevin tried manfully not to notice, had very attractive nipples. “Would you like to join us?” Kevin blinked, frowned, then stared again, slowly processing the scene in front of him. The aforementioned nice nipples. The irrepressable grin. The fact that AJ was gazing his way with a look of terrible mute pleading. Don’t do it, Kev, begged the big brown eyes. Please don’t do it. Kevin mulled this over for a few moments more, impassive and quiet. Then, he smirked.
“I’d love to,” he said.

TBC...

a godawful small affair

freakiestshow @ 2005-12-30T14:03:00