Prompt: Chris M., Nick H., and the Doctor
Nick couldn’t believe his eyes. It felt like a particularly vicious beater had just thrown a bludger into his gut as hard as they possibly could - and then hit him again in the head for good measure. He felt sick and upset and confused. Was he seeing things? Or was this really happening?
“Don’t look at me like that,” Chris said, his voice both serious and pleading. His copper Western steampunk attire contrasted sharply against the bluest blue either of them had ever seen, and it somehow made the situation that much more majestic and ridiculous. “You know I have to do this.”
“No, you don’t,” Nick insisted. “You could stay here. With your team. With me.”
A crease appeared on Chris’s brow. “We don’t even play in the same region, anymore, Nick.”
“That’s not the point!”
Chris sighed. “Nick, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. A chance to live my travel, to live my dreams - to live everyone’s dreams!”
“But what about mine?” Nick whispered. “We were supposed to make it. We were supposed to compete against each other in the World Cup. That’s your dream.”
There was a deep silence before a sandy-haired man opened the police box door behind Chris, surprising him; he had to hold on to the edge of the door to keep from falling.
“What’re you still doing out here for?” he asked. “Who’s this?”
Chris hesitated. “Doctor, this is - “
“Hey, you’re sort of tall. Get in here and help me fix the transdimensional orbital reader.”
Nick looked from Chris to the Doctor in shock. “You mean, just for now, or…?”
“‘Course not!” the Doctor chided. “That thing is always breaking, and it’s always handy to have someone tall around.” He beamed at the pair. “Don’t you think?”
The transdimensional orbiter reader kept breaking, just like the Doctor said, but that was all right. Nick and Chris were both there to help fix it.
And to teach the good Doctor how to play Quidditch.
(They also got to see their teams compete against each other in the Quidditch World Cup XVII. That was pretty cool.)