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storypaint) wrote2009-01-11 01:20 am
storypaint) wrote2009-01-11 01:20 am
Several Other Very Important Differences (Layton gen)
Title: Several Other Very Important Differences
Length: 995 words
Prompt: Professor Layton (Anon) Fan Meme: Layton and Luke in the 21st Century, coping with all the new gadgets and gizmos.
Pairing: Layton, Luke gen
Other: PG for song lyrics
Excerpt: "Stick with me," the man who looked like Luke said, and Layton had to trust him. He fit in around here-- he had the "hooded sweatshirt," the "blue jeans," the "sneakers," the "headphones" that snaked into a pocket of his jacket, attached to something called an "iPod."
How different could the twenty-first century be from the twentieth, really? Not even one-hundred years difference. And yet...
"Luke, look away," the professor said, his voice steely, and Luke gazed up at him, wide-eyed.
"That woman--"
"Yes, Luke, I see her," he said patiently. "I wish I didn't. Clearly she is fallen on hard times and cannot afford proper clothing."
Though if that were true, there were quite a lot of poor women here.
*
"Stick with me," the man who looked like Luke said, and Layton had to trust him. He fit in around here-- he had the "hooded sweatshirt," the "blue jeans," the "sneakers," the "headphones" that snaked into a pocket of his jacket, attached to something called an "iPod."
He helps them check into a hotel with the aid of a "credit card" and after little Luke has gone to sleep, utterly exhausted by the new sounds and sensations, Layton sat with the boy.
"How can you be him?" he said, gesturing to the sleeping child. Wordlessly the other produced a thin card, like a business card, but thicker.
Luke Triton, it said, with a decent likeness of his face and a description of personal characteristics. Layton handed it back and older Luke tucked it into his wallet. He looked at Layton from his perch in the hotel's armchair, studying his face as if deciding what to tell him.
"You're here," he said finally. "So time-travel works."
"But why would you go forward in time?"
"Can't say, Prof," he said, rising from the chair and reaching in his pocket for a small device. He pushed it into Layton's hand.
"What is it?" Layton said, flipping it around and examining it from several angles. There was a small phone receiver drawn onto one of the buttons, and he pushed it softly. The screen lit up and Layton marveled. It told him the time and the date.
10:32PM 6 Jan 1999.
"It's a phone," the boy said.
"But there's no cord?" Layton said uncertainly. "And no wheel to turn."
Luke sighed, and then he grinned-- the expression faded so fast that Layton wasn't sure he'd caught it at all.
"I have to go for now," he said. "But I'll call you on this phone tomorrow. When you hear the... sound... you'll know what I mean... press the green button, okay?"
"But, Luke--" Layton protested as the other strode towards the door. Absently Luke paused in the doorway and adjusted his pageboy cap (because some things never changed).
"Maybe you should call me something else. I don't want to freak the Little Me out," he said, thumbing in the direction of the bed.
Layton nodded after a moment. It did seem like the best course of action.
"Michael," the older Luke said.
"Your middle name isn't very subtle," Layton replied, smiling.
"Subtle enough for me," he said cheerfully. "I'm a little naive."
Layton found himself nodding, but feeling a little weird doing so. How did-- Michael-- talk about his past self so casually? He was sure that if he ran into... himself... he'd be a little more bothered about it.
"See you tomorrow, Hershel!" the boy said, waving a hand as he left, and Layton bit back a reprimand for his familiarity. They needed him. He and Luke stood out like a sore thumb, even in this gigantic city. They didn't know how to do anything by themselves.
Not even operate a phone.
Layton set the object down gently on the bedside table before he crawled in next to his apprentice and managed to switch off the light.
*
Sweat, baby, sweat, baby, sex is a Texas drought
Me and you do the kind of stuff that only Prince would sing about
So put your hands down my pants and I'll bet you'll feel nuts
Yes, I'm Siskel, yes I'm Ebert, and you're getting two thumbs up
You've had enough of two-hand touch, you want it rough you're out of bounds
Layton was jarred out of a solid sleep by the vulgarity. Beside him, Luke bolted upright, eyes wide.
"What is that, Professor?"
"I-- I don't know," Layton admitted, glancing around for the source of the noise. Finally he noticed the phone device vibrating on the bedside table. He snatched it up and hit the button Michael had showed him.
"You figured it out, hmm?" the boy said innocently as Layton held the phone closer to his ear. The sound quality was astonishingly good. If Layton didn't know better, he'd think the other was standing right next to him.
"L-- Michael, I don't think that's an appropriate... um... song to tell me that I have a call," he scolded. The boy on the line snickered.
"Just another taste of the twenty-first century," he said. "So are you ready to solve a mystery, or not?"
"Luke needs a bath--"
"Aww, Professor--"
"You do. But perhaps we could meet in about an hour."
"Can you manage the elevator?"
Layton flushed a little. "I'm sure I could figure it out this time."
"Then I'll meet you out front in an hour. Bring your best game."
"I'm sorry, I think I left my games at home."
The boy snickered again. "Just-- don't worry about it. I'll see you then. Press the red button to end the call."
"All right, then," Layton said, and did so. He stared at the phone for a moment, apprehensively, as if he expected it to sound off again. So did Luke. But then he broke his stillness and herded Luke out of bed and into the bathroom. No sense facing the future dirty, after all.
When they left, he tucked the phone into his pocket. Between that and the clothing Michael had left for them, he was beginning to feel a little more comfortable about their presence in this world.
He wasn't giving up his hat, though. The professor still had his principles.
Of course, the phone rang again in the elevator, traumatizing the polite young women they were sharing it with.
Length: 995 words
Prompt: Professor Layton (Anon) Fan Meme: Layton and Luke in the 21st Century, coping with all the new gadgets and gizmos.
Pairing: Layton, Luke gen
Other: PG for song lyrics
Excerpt: "Stick with me," the man who looked like Luke said, and Layton had to trust him. He fit in around here-- he had the "hooded sweatshirt," the "blue jeans," the "sneakers," the "headphones" that snaked into a pocket of his jacket, attached to something called an "iPod."
How different could the twenty-first century be from the twentieth, really? Not even one-hundred years difference. And yet...
"Luke, look away," the professor said, his voice steely, and Luke gazed up at him, wide-eyed.
"That woman--"
"Yes, Luke, I see her," he said patiently. "I wish I didn't. Clearly she is fallen on hard times and cannot afford proper clothing."
Though if that were true, there were quite a lot of poor women here.
*
"Stick with me," the man who looked like Luke said, and Layton had to trust him. He fit in around here-- he had the "hooded sweatshirt," the "blue jeans," the "sneakers," the "headphones" that snaked into a pocket of his jacket, attached to something called an "iPod."
He helps them check into a hotel with the aid of a "credit card" and after little Luke has gone to sleep, utterly exhausted by the new sounds and sensations, Layton sat with the boy.
"How can you be him?" he said, gesturing to the sleeping child. Wordlessly the other produced a thin card, like a business card, but thicker.
Luke Triton, it said, with a decent likeness of his face and a description of personal characteristics. Layton handed it back and older Luke tucked it into his wallet. He looked at Layton from his perch in the hotel's armchair, studying his face as if deciding what to tell him.
"You're here," he said finally. "So time-travel works."
"But why would you go forward in time?"
"Can't say, Prof," he said, rising from the chair and reaching in his pocket for a small device. He pushed it into Layton's hand.
"What is it?" Layton said, flipping it around and examining it from several angles. There was a small phone receiver drawn onto one of the buttons, and he pushed it softly. The screen lit up and Layton marveled. It told him the time and the date.
10:32PM 6 Jan 1999.
"It's a phone," the boy said.
"But there's no cord?" Layton said uncertainly. "And no wheel to turn."
Luke sighed, and then he grinned-- the expression faded so fast that Layton wasn't sure he'd caught it at all.
"I have to go for now," he said. "But I'll call you on this phone tomorrow. When you hear the... sound... you'll know what I mean... press the green button, okay?"
"But, Luke--" Layton protested as the other strode towards the door. Absently Luke paused in the doorway and adjusted his pageboy cap (because some things never changed).
"Maybe you should call me something else. I don't want to freak the Little Me out," he said, thumbing in the direction of the bed.
Layton nodded after a moment. It did seem like the best course of action.
"Michael," the older Luke said.
"Your middle name isn't very subtle," Layton replied, smiling.
"Subtle enough for me," he said cheerfully. "I'm a little naive."
Layton found himself nodding, but feeling a little weird doing so. How did-- Michael-- talk about his past self so casually? He was sure that if he ran into... himself... he'd be a little more bothered about it.
"See you tomorrow, Hershel!" the boy said, waving a hand as he left, and Layton bit back a reprimand for his familiarity. They needed him. He and Luke stood out like a sore thumb, even in this gigantic city. They didn't know how to do anything by themselves.
Not even operate a phone.
Layton set the object down gently on the bedside table before he crawled in next to his apprentice and managed to switch off the light.
*
Sweat, baby, sweat, baby, sex is a Texas drought
Me and you do the kind of stuff that only Prince would sing about
So put your hands down my pants and I'll bet you'll feel nuts
Yes, I'm Siskel, yes I'm Ebert, and you're getting two thumbs up
You've had enough of two-hand touch, you want it rough you're out of bounds
Layton was jarred out of a solid sleep by the vulgarity. Beside him, Luke bolted upright, eyes wide.
"What is that, Professor?"
"I-- I don't know," Layton admitted, glancing around for the source of the noise. Finally he noticed the phone device vibrating on the bedside table. He snatched it up and hit the button Michael had showed him.
"You figured it out, hmm?" the boy said innocently as Layton held the phone closer to his ear. The sound quality was astonishingly good. If Layton didn't know better, he'd think the other was standing right next to him.
"L-- Michael, I don't think that's an appropriate... um... song to tell me that I have a call," he scolded. The boy on the line snickered.
"Just another taste of the twenty-first century," he said. "So are you ready to solve a mystery, or not?"
"Luke needs a bath--"
"Aww, Professor--"
"You do. But perhaps we could meet in about an hour."
"Can you manage the elevator?"
Layton flushed a little. "I'm sure I could figure it out this time."
"Then I'll meet you out front in an hour. Bring your best game."
"I'm sorry, I think I left my games at home."
The boy snickered again. "Just-- don't worry about it. I'll see you then. Press the red button to end the call."
"All right, then," Layton said, and did so. He stared at the phone for a moment, apprehensively, as if he expected it to sound off again. So did Luke. But then he broke his stillness and herded Luke out of bed and into the bathroom. No sense facing the future dirty, after all.
When they left, he tucked the phone into his pocket. Between that and the clothing Michael had left for them, he was beginning to feel a little more comfortable about their presence in this world.
He wasn't giving up his hat, though. The professor still had his principles.
Of course, the phone rang again in the elevator, traumatizing the polite young women they were sharing it with.