Wasted Time [Back to the Future/Doctor Who/Star Trek/Transformers, Marty McFly/Doctor Who, PG]

[laurus-nobilis.livejournal.com]

Title: Wasted Time
Author: laurus_nobilis
Rating: PG
Warnings: A lot of playing with the fourth wall.
Word count: 1648
Prompt: Crossover (Back to the Future/Doctor Who/Star Trek/Transformers), Marty McFly/Doctor Who/Q/Vector Prime - Drunk/inebriated/ect - Why you should never give those with the power to traverse space and time copious amounts of alcohol, AKA, Let's do the Time Warp again
Summary: Q arranges a reunion with a few friends and a lot of drinks.


Marty rubbed his temples, not sure if his headache had to do with the drink, the situation, or both. Then again, if that was all, it shouldn't be that bad. He was about to wake up any minute now. He was sure of that.

"This can't be happening," he said, mostly to himself. "It absolutely can't, because, first of all, Romulan ale is fictional," he told the man who had brought the jars. "And because nothing you say makes any sense at all, and I'm used to hearing Doc speak," he added, addressing the other, skinnier man this time. "And you…" He paused for a moment, looking up at the ridiculously huge robot before him. "Aren't you a toy or something?"

Before the robot could reply, the man in the pinstriped suit started rambling. Again.

"Oh, we're all toys," he said, waving his mug around and somehow still managing not to let a single drop fall. "Toys in the hands of Q here, who seriously needs to find a better hobby."

"I like this hobby just fine, Doctor," said Q. "And you all would, too, if you just relaxed a little."

"It is never that easy with you, Q," the robot said. It sounded suspiciously like a sigh, which was impressive; Marty didn't even know robots could do that. "This will not end well, I'm sure of it."

"Vector, my old friend, you take life much too seriously."

"I have no choice. With a duty like mine…"

"Oh, no, no no no, you stop right there, Prime," the Doctor interrupted him, shaking his finger at him. "If he starts talking about games again now I'm blaming you."

"Oh, please, Doctor. I'm not that predictable."

"Of course you are! Why, if the last time you--"

"Wait a minute," Marty intervened, getting more and more confused by the second. "You all know each other? Am I the only one here who has no idea what's going on?"

"Count yourself lucky and hope Q doesn't find you amusing," the Doctor replied, still glaring at the other man instead of facing Marty. Vector Prime, intimidating as he looked, was much more polite.

"I have a few things in common with Time Lords," he explained. "And Q… well, I suppose he considers us friends, in his own way."

"Oh, you give him too much credit. The word you're looking for is 'cosmic playthings'. Really, doesn't this all look the slightest bit suspicious to you?" the Doctor went on. "Three people from different species, completely different galaxies even, all with the means to travel through time, brought together with absolutely no regard for tiny details like, oh, alternate universes."

"Alternate universes?" Marty repeated, incredulous.

"Don't mind him. He gets touchy about those," said Q. "Lost a couple of girlfriends that way."

"Did not!"

"I think that ale is getting to your head, Doctor. Of course you did, remember? Both blonde, both start with an 'R'-"

"What the Doctor means, I believe," Prime interrupted, in what Marty thought was a rather desperate try to avoid an imminent catastrophe, "is that we might not even be from the same dimension. That explains why you think of this ale as 'fictional', for example."

"Exactly!" the Doctor chimed in, apparently eager to change the subject. "So, tell us, Q. Why are we here this time? Why do you need three time-travellers, hmmm?"

"More fun that way," he replied, shrugging. "Another round of ale?"

* * *

"… and then Jean-Luc said, 'I'd rather finish my tea in peace'!"

"That's not funny," Marty said. Or maybe he just wasn't drunk enough to see the fun in it – which, considering the amounts of ale that Q kept producing, was highly unlikely.

"Of course it's not! But he thought it was oh-so-witty. That's the beauty of it."

"Nahhhh, you're just easily amused," said the Doctor. Q didn't seem too upset by the accusation.

"Well, look who's talking! Have you seen your grin lately?"

"You're both silly," said Prime, with a seriousness in his tone that didn't exactly match his words. Or the way his mug was swaying.

"Oh, don't try to act like you're the responsible one here, Vector," said Q. "You've had enough energon to get the whole Decepticon army into stasis."

"… I think I will regret this," the robot sighed. The Doctor smiled sympathetically at him and patted his enormous hand.

"Wouldn't be the first time, though, would it? I still remember that time in Kaon – or was it Praxus – well, it was somewhere…"

"You guys did stuff like this before, then?" Marty interrupted, curious. He had a hard time imagining what could those two have in common, time travelers or not. Well, he still had trouble wrapping his mind around the concept of 'giant robot from outer space', even with all the alcohol helping him.

"Oh, really often!" the Doctor exclaimed. "Well, often for me. Every couple decades. Relative time. Well. Once in a while."

"But mostly without Q," Prime added.

"True, true. I mean, I already knew both of them, but it's the first time all three of us are together," said Q. "All for the sake of introducing them to you, Marty McFly – well, not that you need introductions at all, does he, Doctor?"

"To me?" Marty asked, before the other man could reply. "But why?"

"Because," answered Q, perfectly serious, "you have a really cool car."

"Oooooh, yes! Are we here for a ride?" the Doctor asked, with that infamous grin his friends had been talking about, and now practically bouncing. "I'd love to go for a ride on the DeLorean! I mean, it's the DeLorean! Who wouldn't?"

"… but you have your own time machine, don't you?"

"Yes, and I also have an extensive knowledge of Earth's popular culture and a ridiculous amount of Romulan ale in my system right now. I'd love to go for a ride. Can I?"

Marty felt a bit of common sense coming back to him, perhaps caused by the Doctor's own words.

"Actually," he said, "I don't think I should drive like this."

"Oh, don't worry, kid," said Q. "I'll manage."

"But you've been drinking, too!"

"And I am a practically omnipotent being. If I can make him fit inside your car," he said, with a nod in Prime's direction, "I can make sure we don't crash."

It might have been the alcohol, but Marty thought that sounded perfectly logical.

* * *

Marty woke up with a splitting headache and absolutely no idea of where he was. When he finally managed to take in his surroundings, he realized that everything around him was made of metal, and far too big for humans. Was that Prime's home planet?

"Oh, you're awake," he heard the Doctor say. He sounded very, very upset. "Good. I'm taking you home."

"… what happened?" he asked, vaguely wondering how much of it was his fault. The Doctor didn't seem to be angry at him, though, which was a good sign.

"Lots of things. Most of them no one can remember. Oh, and Q's gone! Surprise!"

"Please keep your voice down, Doctor," came Prime's voice from not too far. "I have enough of a processor ache as it is."

"Sorry," he said. Then he turned towards Marty and motioned for him to get up. "C'mon, let's get you some breakfast and then we'll figure out how to get your car into the TARDIS."

Marty chose not to ask anything about that just yet, and went for a more obvious line of thought.

"… where are we?"

"Cybertron," said Prime, and then he let out a long sigh. "Or at least one of them."

Those words brought an image to Marty's mind. A place similar to this, yes, but not quite… and they'd done… something. He wasn't sure what. But he had a very, very bad feeling about the whole thing.

"Oh, great," he muttered. "Don't tell me we've gone and changed your planet's past or something."

The robot gave him a look that was far, far more expressive than he could have thought possible from someone made entirely of metal. The Doctor rubbed his temples and grimaced.

"You've heard about the 'legs of time'?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Well. This? This is like the centipede of time," he burst out. "And oh, Q had to be planning it, when I see him again I'm going to--"

"Wait, wait! Can't we go back and fix it?" said Marty. Prime shook his head slowly.

"It is beyond our reach," he sighed. "This is more than a single changing point. There are many alternate Cybertrons now… countless different realities."

"That's right," the other man agreed. "Even we can't do anything about it."

"Some good might still come out of this," said Prime, sounding very much as if he was trying to convince himself. "If there are infinite versions of Cybertron now, there must be at least one of them when this poor world is not at war."

"Yeeeah, well," the Doctor said, rubbing the back of his head, "I wouldn't count on that. Q does like his fun."

"Well, what are we going to do, then?" Marty asked.

"I believe a word with our friend Q is in order," was Prime's suggestion.

"After I take you home," the Doctor added.

"Oh, no. I'm going with you."

"He does have a point," Prime said. "Q has caused trouble for him, too."

"What?" said the Doctor. "What is it with you Cybertronians and picking up young hum-- oh, fine, yes, he can come," he finished, avoiding the robot's very pointed look.

"Great!" Marty exclaimed, satisfied – and then remembered that other little question he had. "So… how are we going to get the DeLorean through your ship's door?"

The Doctor turned to him with a knowing grin.

"All I need is a screwdriver and five minutes."

Comments

[laurus-nobilis.livejournal.com]

Thanks a lot! :D This was great fun to write.