DW: Those Magic Manacles (Rose, Mickey, Jake)
livii organized the Rose Tyler Post-Doomsday Gen Ficathon for rose_lives. I was assigned doyle_sb4, who requested humour, friendship with Mickey and/or Jake, and non-invading aliens.
Title: Those Magic Manacles
Author: voleuse
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: Rose, Mickey, Jake
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Mostly, she avoids them. I just let them come.
Notes: Set after "Doomsday," no spoilers
Jake thinks the Torchwood building is spooky, on account of its vast emptiness, and in the basement, piles of dusty file boxes about things he doesn't like to think about. (He always thought human beings were disturbing enough on their own.) It's a good place for operations though, and a good place for information. They go there, once and then twice a week, and strategize.
And one afternoon, when he gets back from lunch, he hears Mickey shouting. It doesn't sound urgent--and security's tight in the building--but Jake runs up the stairs anyway.
There's another shout, Rose this time, and Jake sprints down the corridor and kicks open the door.
A tennis ball just barely misses his head, bouncing off the jamb instead. Mickey shouts and dives to the floor, just barely missing the tennis ball, the broom in his hand flailing as he skids over the tile. Behind him, Rose spins and thwacks the ball solidly with her dustpan.
Jake stares.
From the floor, Mickey groans and shouts, "Interference, Rose!"
"Right." She snorts. "I told you the broom wouldn't work. Throws off your balance."
"You think you know everything." Mickey sits up. "Say hello to Jake, would you?"
Rose grins at Jake, winks. "Hello, Jake."
"Rose. Mickey." The tennis ball is rolling into a corner now, and the sound of it arrests Jake's attention.
Mickey thrusts the broom into Jake's hands. "Prove her wrong for me, would you?"
Rose wields the dustpan like a weapon. "Ha."
Jake raises his eyebrows, and salutes her with the broom.
*
Pete gets a call from a contact in Germany, and he requests they fly over and take a look around. "You and Mickey," he says to Rose, "have experience with this sort of thing. And you, too, Jake. Would you mind?"
Rose gives Pete a peck on the cheek and assents. Jake rolls his eyes, because it's not like they had a choice, really.
He doesn't mind. He's been bored this week, and Pete hires them an actual plane. Jake spends the flight peering out the windows, while Mickey turns an odd shade of uncomfortable and fends off Rose's mockery with a hail of pretzels.
The thing in Germany Pete sent them to check out is large, blobby thing sitting in the middle of a square. They arrive at night, and it's glowing a faint shade of amber.
Mickey points his Geiger counter at it, then shakes his head. "Not radioactive, as far as I can--Rose! Would you not--"
Rose looks over her shoulder as she walks toward the blob, and Jake reaches for the comfort of his stunner. Mickey's close to fits as he looks between the instrument readings and Rose, so Jake grabs him by the elbow and drags after her.
"Don't worry about it," she calls back to them. "I've seen this before."
And she reaches out her hand, and she presses her palm to the wall of the blob. Jake bites his lip.
The blob shimmers, then disappears. And in it's place, three blue blobby things float. Three blue blobby things with eyes and heads and arms and fingers pointing around at the buildings.
"Rose?" Jake asks, because she's holding a hand out to them. They're getting close to her, they're looking at her, and she's smiling.
"Don't worry." One of the blue blobby things touches its finger--tentacle?--to hers. "They're friendly. Tourists."
"Tourists?" Mickey exclaims. "Can they talk? Do they know English?"
"Yeah, of course." Rose pauses. "And no. I think they should have, um." She points to her wrist, making the gesture broad and unmistakable. "Translator thingies, I think. They should have those." She makes the gesture again.
Mickey copies it, and after a moment, so does Jake.
There's a long moment when Jake thinks he's never felt more ridiculous, and then he feels an amber shimmer behind his sinuses.
--museum of art? The blue bobby thing on the right is adjusting a dial on what looks like a giant wristwatch. We are looking for the museum of art, please.
"Art?" Rose looks back at Mickey. "Call Dad," she orders, and her teeth are bared in a grin.
"Right." Mickey flips open his mobile, then gestures vaguely to Jake. "Can you--"
"Yeah, sure." Jake steps forward, next to Rose, and mimics her welcoming smile.
*
Jake reclines on his futon and stares at the ceiling. He considers turning the telly on, but there's nothing he wants to watch. It's too early to sleep, too late to go out. Well, not really. But his feet hurt.
His doorbell buzzes. Jake frowns, turns his head at the door as if he could see through it by squinting.
Bzzzz.
He rolls out of his futon and pulls on a shirt. Takes a thoughtful glance at his stunner on the table, but shakes his head.
Bzzzz.
He peers through the eyelet in his door, the metal cool against his skin. There's a beer against the glass, and Rose is singing something about grooves and honey. Mickey makes for a surprising harmony.
Jake swings open the door, and they tromp in like a parade.
"We were bored," Rose announces. "And Mickey said you might be awake, and I want to watch a movie." She fiddles with his DVD player and turns the television on.
He looks at Mickey, and Mickey shrugs. "Beer?"
Jake takes the proffered bottle, then digs his mobile out of his back pocket.
"I'll order some Chinese," he says.
"Make it a pizza," Rose shouts as she settles on his futon.
###
A/N: Title and summary adapted from Bryan Dietrich's Superman's Other Secret. Link courtesy of breathe_poetry.
Title: Those Magic Manacles
Author: voleuse
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: Rose, Mickey, Jake
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Mostly, she avoids them. I just let them come.
Notes: Set after "Doomsday," no spoilers
Jake thinks the Torchwood building is spooky, on account of its vast emptiness, and in the basement, piles of dusty file boxes about things he doesn't like to think about. (He always thought human beings were disturbing enough on their own.) It's a good place for operations though, and a good place for information. They go there, once and then twice a week, and strategize.
And one afternoon, when he gets back from lunch, he hears Mickey shouting. It doesn't sound urgent--and security's tight in the building--but Jake runs up the stairs anyway.
There's another shout, Rose this time, and Jake sprints down the corridor and kicks open the door.
A tennis ball just barely misses his head, bouncing off the jamb instead. Mickey shouts and dives to the floor, just barely missing the tennis ball, the broom in his hand flailing as he skids over the tile. Behind him, Rose spins and thwacks the ball solidly with her dustpan.
Jake stares.
From the floor, Mickey groans and shouts, "Interference, Rose!"
"Right." She snorts. "I told you the broom wouldn't work. Throws off your balance."
"You think you know everything." Mickey sits up. "Say hello to Jake, would you?"
Rose grins at Jake, winks. "Hello, Jake."
"Rose. Mickey." The tennis ball is rolling into a corner now, and the sound of it arrests Jake's attention.
Mickey thrusts the broom into Jake's hands. "Prove her wrong for me, would you?"
Rose wields the dustpan like a weapon. "Ha."
Jake raises his eyebrows, and salutes her with the broom.
*
Pete gets a call from a contact in Germany, and he requests they fly over and take a look around. "You and Mickey," he says to Rose, "have experience with this sort of thing. And you, too, Jake. Would you mind?"
Rose gives Pete a peck on the cheek and assents. Jake rolls his eyes, because it's not like they had a choice, really.
He doesn't mind. He's been bored this week, and Pete hires them an actual plane. Jake spends the flight peering out the windows, while Mickey turns an odd shade of uncomfortable and fends off Rose's mockery with a hail of pretzels.
The thing in Germany Pete sent them to check out is large, blobby thing sitting in the middle of a square. They arrive at night, and it's glowing a faint shade of amber.
Mickey points his Geiger counter at it, then shakes his head. "Not radioactive, as far as I can--Rose! Would you not--"
Rose looks over her shoulder as she walks toward the blob, and Jake reaches for the comfort of his stunner. Mickey's close to fits as he looks between the instrument readings and Rose, so Jake grabs him by the elbow and drags after her.
"Don't worry about it," she calls back to them. "I've seen this before."
And she reaches out her hand, and she presses her palm to the wall of the blob. Jake bites his lip.
The blob shimmers, then disappears. And in it's place, three blue blobby things float. Three blue blobby things with eyes and heads and arms and fingers pointing around at the buildings.
"Rose?" Jake asks, because she's holding a hand out to them. They're getting close to her, they're looking at her, and she's smiling.
"Don't worry." One of the blue blobby things touches its finger--tentacle?--to hers. "They're friendly. Tourists."
"Tourists?" Mickey exclaims. "Can they talk? Do they know English?"
"Yeah, of course." Rose pauses. "And no. I think they should have, um." She points to her wrist, making the gesture broad and unmistakable. "Translator thingies, I think. They should have those." She makes the gesture again.
Mickey copies it, and after a moment, so does Jake.
There's a long moment when Jake thinks he's never felt more ridiculous, and then he feels an amber shimmer behind his sinuses.
--museum of art? The blue bobby thing on the right is adjusting a dial on what looks like a giant wristwatch. We are looking for the museum of art, please.
"Art?" Rose looks back at Mickey. "Call Dad," she orders, and her teeth are bared in a grin.
"Right." Mickey flips open his mobile, then gestures vaguely to Jake. "Can you--"
"Yeah, sure." Jake steps forward, next to Rose, and mimics her welcoming smile.
*
Jake reclines on his futon and stares at the ceiling. He considers turning the telly on, but there's nothing he wants to watch. It's too early to sleep, too late to go out. Well, not really. But his feet hurt.
His doorbell buzzes. Jake frowns, turns his head at the door as if he could see through it by squinting.
Bzzzz.
He rolls out of his futon and pulls on a shirt. Takes a thoughtful glance at his stunner on the table, but shakes his head.
Bzzzz.
He peers through the eyelet in his door, the metal cool against his skin. There's a beer against the glass, and Rose is singing something about grooves and honey. Mickey makes for a surprising harmony.
Jake swings open the door, and they tromp in like a parade.
"We were bored," Rose announces. "And Mickey said you might be awake, and I want to watch a movie." She fiddles with his DVD player and turns the television on.
He looks at Mickey, and Mickey shrugs. "Beer?"
Jake takes the proffered bottle, then digs his mobile out of his back pocket.
"I'll order some Chinese," he says.
"Make it a pizza," Rose shouts as she settles on his futon.
###
A/N: Title and summary adapted from Bryan Dietrich's Superman's Other Secret. Link courtesy of breathe_poetry.