On Butlers and Betrothals

by Pairadox Timeline [Reviews - 11]

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  • All Ages
  • Swearing
  • Crossover, Humor

Author's Notes:
This is our new Christmas collaboration, and a fun crossover we've wanted to write for awhile. Chapter 1 is posted in honor of the birthday of Catyuy.

On Butlers and Betrothals

Chapter 1: What Not to Wear (And Where Not to Wear It)

"She threw us out." Jack, sprawled across the pavement, made this comment with the air of one far too shocked to even comprehend offense.

"Yes, I know," replied a Manchester accent from somewhere off to Jack's left.

"She threw all three of us out," the American accent observed again, and now it was edging toward the offended.

"Yes, I know," said a London Cockney that the street it was fetched up upon would not hear for another fifty years.

"She's thrown us out, on the pavement, and locked the door behind us!" Jack's voice was loud, indignant, and definitely moving toward anger.

"Yes, I know," replied the two British accents simultaneously, and they had skipped anger entirely and gone for exasperated.

"Can't you say something besides 'Yes, I know'?" the Captain demanded.

"Can't you say anything I don't already know?" the Doctor shot back, hotly, and sat up.

Jack sighed and looked around while the Doctor helped Rose to her feet. "At least she thought to pack us a bag," he said, noting the three small valises toppled haphazardly in front of the double doors.

"Lovely," said Rose. She turned to the locked door of the Police Box they were unceremoniously dumped in front of mere moments ago. "Please, please let us in?" she asked nicely.

"It's no good," the Doctor said with a sour expression and an even more sour gesture at his normally quite spoiled ship. "She's convinced the life support has melted down. She'll let us back in whenever the hell She wants." He kicked the door, then bounced on one foot and swore. The door split open for just one second, long enough to chuck three large hatboxes and a small garment bag out on top of the rest of the luggage. "Oh for…" He degenerated into alien swearing, quietly, and leaned against the nearest wall, staring accusingly at the box.

When it didn't open again in ten minutes, Jack said, quite tentatively in order not to set the Time Lord off again, "I think the first order of business is to find food and shelter."

"I think the first order of business," said Rose, her tone quite annoyed, "is getting me off the street, quickly and quietly."

The Doctor's head shot up and Jack followed his line of sight to where a woman was looking at Rose as if she was a nightmare from hell. "London, early twenties," the Doctor observed, chagrinned.

The two men turned to look at Rose in her skintight baby-doll tee and her short skirt. "Good idea," they both said.

*?*


"Aunt Dahlia always does throw the most smashing Christmas parties in all of England," Bertram Wilberforce Wooster stated enthusiastically. He stood in front of a mirror with his chin up in the air as he fiddled expertly with a bow tie.

"Indeed, sir. Mrs. Travers has a kind of knack for bringing out jolly tendencies in all that she meets," a measured voice said from his side. The moment Bertie had gotten the tie to his satisfaction, the impeccably groomed man with neatly combed black hair presented a garment. "Your coat, sir."

"Thank you, Jeeves."

In a moment the tall, thin, almost lanky young man of obvious means was strolling briskly down the pavement, occasionally twirling his walking stick. He entered a building that declared itself the Drones Club, and handed his hat and stick to the man, George. He entered the bar room to a rousing cry of "Bertie!" as several of his mates noticed his arrival.

"What ho, Gussy, Barmy, Bingo, Tuppy," He walked over to the bar and ordered a tall drink.

"You missed lunch, Bertie," Gussy said. "It was a wonderful steak and kidney pie."

"Yes, well, I'm only here for a quick drop before I must drive down to Brinkley Court for the annual bash," Bertie said in an almost dejected tone before taking a long drink.

"But you love those parties, Bertie, you've always said so," Bingo said almost accusingly as if Bertie had been caught lying to him.

"Besides," Tuppy interjected. "I shall be coming down next week to join you all."

"Oh yes, how are things with you and Cousin Angela?" Bertie asked on cue.

"She's an angel, as you well know."

"Of course. It will be good to see her again. But most people won't be arriving for several days, and Aunt Agatha is already there."

The other men winced sympathetically.

"I see what you mean," Tuppy said. "But why not just put off your trip for a few days?"

"I can't," Bertie replied with a kind of morose resolve. "Aunt Dahlia asked me to come down early to help prepare Brinkley Court. I think she just wants the use of Jeeves." Bertie drained the drink in a last gulp and set it down on the bar with a thud. "Well gang, I'm off. Jeeves will have the car ready by now, and it doesn't do to keep him waiting. Toodle pip."

*?*


The Doctor was looking in on an old friend of his to secure emergency lodgings, though Jack suspected "looking in on" could mean anything from "bribing and bullying" to "breaking and entering". Jack, meanwhile, was raiding the Time Agency's account at one of the local banks.

The Doctor didn't have as easy a time of it here where the computers he manipulated so readily had not yet been invented. He'd insisted there was something he could do, but Jack was sure this would be best if they divided and conquered.

"Captain Jack Harkness!" came a woman's voice from across the lobby of the bank.

Jack startled, then turned to find an older woman with a slender face and features still quite lovely in late maturity. He was absolutely certain he'd never seen the woman before in his life. Being a time traveler, however, and a good one, he knew that didn't mean she'd never met him, so he gave the woman his very best smile.

"My goodness!" the woman exclaimed as she approached him more closely. Her figure was exquisite, Jack decided, bringing to mind the celebrities of the time. "You look almost exactly like him," the woman finished, smiling admiringly into his eyes.

Jack offered the woman a hand. "I get that a lot," he said cheerfully. "Captain Jack Harkness."

"Oh, no, you couldn't possibly be," the woman said, waving as if to wave him away. "No, the man I knew would have been old enough to be your father, dear boy."

Jack let his sincerity and pheromones tick up a notch and nodded happily. "Probably was my father, then," Jack agreed. He considered the woman with a careful eye and then gave her his best flirtatious smile. "I've heard he had an eye for pretty girls when he was here, but no one said he'd been robbing cradles."

"Oh, you even sound just like him. Great heavens." The woman fanned herself, and blushed a bit, though it wasn't quite clear with her ruddy complexion. "Your father was a charmer and a bit of a rogue, Captain Harkness, and being around him was like finally seeing sunshine. I'm Dahlia Travers, though it was Dahlia Wooster when I knew your father."

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Travers," Jack said.

"Are you stationed in London, Captain?" Mrs. Travers asked, taking Jack's arm and allowing him to escort her.

"Oh, I'm on leave. I've come in from the continent with some friends for the holidays…"

The woman beamed as if the Captain had given her a gift. "Oh, you simply must bring your friends and come down to Brinkley Court for Christmas, Captain."

Jack looked to Mrs. Travers, opening his mouth to back out.

*?*


"Whaddya mean we're goin' ta Worcestershire?" the Doctor demanded, running fingers across a dark, dusty bookcase in the small house he'd found them in north London.

"This place is tragic," Rose said, appearing briefly on her tour of the house. "I'm sorry, it'll take me days to fix it, I don't…" She took the end of her sentence with her as she left the room.

"Seriously, guys, let's just go to this Brinkley Court," Jack said. "She's a nice lady, says she knows my dad."

Rose reappeared from another room and blinked at Jack. "Does she?"

"Not that I know of?"

"Why, exactly, did you agree to this?" the Doctor demanded. Rose threw her hands in the air and vanished again, this time through a set of pocket doors that led into a cobweb infested study.

The Doctor towered over Jack. "There's no tellin' what Rose'll need in a place like that, all those curls, an' fittings, and corsets…" The Doctor firmly told himself that he didn't care in the slightest that Rose in a corset was quite easily the stuff of dreams but the look Jack shot him told him the Captain saw that too clearly.

"Do women still wear corsets?" Jack asked.

"Depends on the dress," Rose called from heaven knew where.

The Doctor refused to let himself or Jack give that any thought. "How'd she talk you into it?"

Jack blinked at him. "I've got no clue," he admitted.

"Well, we're not going," the Doctor said firmly. "We'll stay right here 'til the TARDIS is fixed an' then we're leavin'. There is no force on Earth can persuade me ta gate crash some party…"

*?*


Two hours later, the Doctor was driving a hired car with Rose in the passenger seat buried in warm clothes and still looking around like she was being taken to the fair.