Fic: Mad, Crazy, Awesome (Brendon Urie/The Doctor) PG

[mayqueen517]

hardtospark - Jan 5th!

Title: Mad, Crazy, Awesome
Fandom: Doctor Who; bandom
Pairing: Brendon Urie/The Doctor (Eleventh incarnation)
Rating: PG for language
Word Count: 872
Disclaimer: OWN NOTHING. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. HONEST. Written in 35 minutes or so, mistakes are my own!
Author's Note: Mmm, liberty. Basically, uh. Brendon is The Doctor's companion.
Summary: Important alien or not, you don't let your Companions get tied up for human sacrifice.
Prompt: Enthusiasm is everything. It must be taut and vibrating like a guitar string. [Pele]


"You know, I gotta say, I'm all for learning new things and all, but this is a little far, man."

"I'm sorry, this is really all just a big misunderstanding, so I think that perhaps I could have my Companion back?"

Brendon stares at the Doctor from the stone table, hands and feet tied securely as he babbles excitedly, waving his hands and his arms and Brendon thinks, idly, that he's going to kill him. Important alien or not, you don't let your Companions get tied up for human sacrifice.

"Doctor?" Brendon asks, hoping to get his attention on him, hoping that he will actually have some plan to pull from out of his ass or under his hat (what is with the dude and hats? It's like living with Ryan Ross again), or from the inside of his jacket. He waves his sonic screwdriver (and who the fuck makes a screwdriver sonic is what Brendon wants to know), gesturing as he hits whatever he needs to.

"Anyways, as I was saying, he's just a simple human boy, nothing important-"

"Hey!"

"Nothing important," the Doctor says again, glaring at Brendon meaningfully. Mostly it looks like he's grimacing, but Brendon gets the basic gist of it as the Doctor continues, "and really, he's not even from this time, but I thought it might be fun to take him around the Universe, let him see some th-and my, that is quite a large spear, isn't it?"

Brendon could cry, actually, is the problem. He's naked (which is great on a nice stone table, yeah) and there are ropes cutting into his wrists and ankles and there is a lady staring at him like he's dinner or her next husband. Brendon thinks, with a dry wheeze of fear, that at least things haven't changed all that much since he started traveling with the Doctor.

"Not going to let him go, huh?" the Doctor turns, tweed jacket (who the fuck wears tweed anymore?) damp with mist from the ocean that crashes onto the rocks and he winks at Brendon before buzzing the screwdriver with a flourish. The rope around Brendon's wrists and ankles goes slack, falling off of him and Brendon scrambles over to the Doctor's side right before all hell breaks loose.

Brendon is really going to kill the Doctor.


It's only later, with the sonic screwdriver casting a soft glow over the abrasions, skin knitting back together (and that will never stop being the coolest fucking thing ever. Aside from the whole alien thing. And the bigger-on-the-inside bit) that Brendon sighs.

"I'm really sorry about that," the Doctor says, giving him a crooked grin.

"What was it all about?"

"They said that you had the spirit of Pele in you and. Well. She was jealous or something and y'know, they wanted to appease that jealousy. It's really quite interesting, the history of Pele and -"

"Who the fuck is Pele?" Brendon asks, sitting back into the soft cushions as the Doctor makes a face. Brendon likes him, despite everything, despite all the danger and the mad, crazy aura he displays like a peacock. And hey, it really isn't everyday you meet an alien who travels in time and space, right?

"Hawaiian goddess for fire, lightning, dance, and volcanoes," the Doctor says promptly.

"So they weren't aliens?"

"Nope, run of of the mill humanoids, though that woman who prepared you might have been indulging in some mating rituals of the -"

"Doctor," Brendon says, looking up at him and he sighs, sitting down. The Doctor reaches over, passing a hand over his hair quietly, affectionately, as they sit in silence for a moment. It's warm and his jeans are a comfort from home and Brendon leans into it, enjoying the easy affection.

"'Enthusiasm is everything. It must be taut and vibrating like a guitar string,'" the Doctor says finally, looking over at him, the glow from the walls of the TARDIS highlighting his brown hair into something different as Brendon nods slowly, leaning against his hand, waiting. The Doctor thinks on it for a moment, that look that makes Brendon wonder what he's thinking about, if he's thinking about someone in particular or if he's remembering something he should have said.

"That's nice," Brendon says quietly, making the Doctor laugh quietly. His hand combs through Brendon's hair gently, like he doesn't realize he's doing it.

"Different Pele. No dancing or lightning or volcanoes. Well, depending on who they're playing, I suppose."

Brendon looks at the Doctor for a long moment, leaning over, tentatively pressing his lips against the Doctor's, unable to say why. He doesn't know if he should have done it, but the Doctor's hand stills in his hair, his lips not moving and Brendon pulls back slowly.

"I like it," Brendon says with feigned nonchalance. The Doctor looks at him, searching his face and Brendon meets his eyes carefully before he watches a smile come onto the Doctor's face easily.

"I thought you would," he says before he leans over and presses his lips to Brendon's again. Brendon smiles against his lips, sliding closer before sighing happily; the Doctor might be maddening and crazy with horrible taste in hats, but Brendon's kind of okay with that.