The Professor and the President (Layton and Roosevelt gen)

[storypaint]

Title: The Professor and the President
Prompt: Layton and Teddy Roosevelt as BFF for sky_pirate_tat
Characters: Layton and Teddy Roosevelt
Rating: G, mangling of history
Excerpt: "You've got the gun right there, all you have to do is point it!" Theodore said, gesturing out to the desolate lands. Layton pointed the gun away from any movement he saw, handling it as if he expected it to explode.

"I like your hat," the boy said.

Hershel looked around him in case the boy was talking to someone else, but there was no one else in the park. He pulled the top hat a little lower over his eyes.

"My dad gave it to me," he admitted. The other boy grinned brightly, running up to him. He put out his hand and waited for Hershel to shake it.

"I'm Teedie! What's your name?" he asked in a broad American accent.

"Hershel," Hershel said, smiling back a little uncertainly.

"So you're from here, are you? It's such a neat place!" He darted around in a circle and Hershel turned to follow his movements, a little dizzy.

"It's just home," he said.

"But you know what all the fun things to do are, right?"

"I--" Hershel blinked, "-- rather like puzzles."

"Well, that sounds fun," Teedy said cheerfully, clapping Hershel on the shoulder. Hershel reached up and held onto his hat. It was a little too big for him. His dad would probably make him go back to the pageboy, but for now, he treasured it.

"Any good ones?"

"I'm sure an American like yourself wants to do... American things," Hershel tried. Teedy waved a hand.

"We can play games later. Do you like tennis? Or hiking or horseback riding, maybe?"

"I, um--"

"I have a puzzle for you!" the boy said, bouncing, and his enthusiasm was infectious. Hershel began to smile.

*

"You've got the gun right there, all you have to do is point it!" Theodore said, gesturing out to the desolate lands. Layton pointed the gun away from any movement he saw, handling it as if he expected it to explode.

"I don't think there's any reason to shoot anything," he said uncertainly. Theodore clapped him on the shoulder and Layton winced, as usual, dipping the shotgun towards the ground.

"We've come all the way out to Africa to shoot things," he said. "Enjoy yourself!"

"But--"

"For the Smithsonian, Hershel. You do love your museum, don't you?"

"Well, I--"

"Here, I'll show you," Theodore said loudly. He seemed to believe, Layton thought glumly, that any problem could be addressed by simply talking loudly in its direction, in the hopes it would come around. While that did seem to work in many cases-- it had given him the Presidency, his utter determination-- it wasn't working with Layton. His childhood friend had never grown out of his love for puzzles and history. Neither had Theodore-- but he'd added several other interests as well.

Many of them seemed to involve shooting things.

He handed the gun off to Theodore and it cracked after only a moment. Something small scrabbled in the dust and flashed redly.

"Think it's a mole," Roosevelt said, satisfied. He handed Layton the gun (he took it in the same careful way he had been holding it before) and darted down to see.

Layton sighed, and then followed after. This was his best friend, after all. One made sacrifices.

"Come on, Hershel!" Theodore said, grinning, and Layton let himself smile. When they got home, he'd be busy for weeks.

Especially if Theodore came down and took an interest in the proceedings. He tended to liven things up quite a bit.

"I'm coming!" the professor shouted, his English accent out of place in this African desert, and he followed.