a/n: This is a crossover fic; Final Fantasy X and British Comedian RPS (Charlie Brooker, David Mitchell and Robert Webb).
Rating: PG-13 - Bad language, courtesy of our Charlie (of course).
Disclaimer: The characters within do not belong to me. Although it's a crossover fic, it is also part RPS, so if you object to this in any way, please do not read on.
"No, I fucking do not think he should come with us. Look at him!" Rob gestured wildly at Charlie, who was sat on his favourite rock again, trying to look like someone who would be a good Guardian and all that.
"He doesn't even have a weapon, David." Rob's voice went softer, now, and David narrowed his eyes. He hated it when Rob did his soft, angry voice. "Plus he's... he's a writer. The writer, actually. We'd be hounded out of every Temple in Spira – no-one would have us. You'd never get to Zanarkand," he crossed his arms, his shoulders tense, "and you know what that means."
"Yes," David sighed. "But look at us, Rob." He waved his hand at the pair of them, sadly. "What chance do we have anyway? You can only just fight-"
"Hey!"
"Don't interrupt me, Robert." David's voice was dangerous, now, and Rob rocked back on his heels, waiting for the inevitable well-formed argument. "You can only just fight," he repeated. "And I know that you've been practising and all that, and yes, you're getting better, but they say that there's safety in numbers and I am wholeheartedly inclined to agree. And," he raised a finger, "practise isn't going to keep us alive. And yes, I have Ixion now, and more Aeons along the way, naturally, but we can't hide behind them forever-"
Charlie cleared his throat. "Um, I hate to interrupt and all, but I think you're sort of failing to take into account a few things here."
Both David and Rob shot him a glare and he looked meek. "Okay, sorry. I'll just shut up then, shall I?"
"Yes," Rob ground out.
"Thank you," David said. "I... I forgot where I was."
"Insulting my prowess as a fighter, I do believe."
"Oh don't be a baby, Rob. But really, you've got to admit, all that stuff about not letting us in Temples – well, I mean, it's not as if the Temples are all that enamoured of us on our own. What difference is having Charlie along going to make?"
"I just don't think it's wise, that's all. I don't like how they look at you already, let alone with him in tow," Rob jerked his thumb at Charlie, who looked mildly outraged.
"I resent that," Charlie said. "It's not like I'm going to go around waving my cock in the air and pissing on Maesters or anything, you know. And you might have noticed, but it's a bit hard getting things published when you're on the road."
"The man has a point, Rob. We'll only have to deal with past injuries to Yevon, not anything new."
"I suppose he could pretend he's reformed," Rob said.
"I am here, you know. Don't I have a say in this?"
"Plus we can get him a weapon right here. Palla likes me, she'll give us a discount." David looked hopeful.
"Oh fine. I'm not paying for it, though."
"Charlie, you are now officially one of my Guardians!" David beamed at Charlie, who just looked right back at him.
"Fucking hell, I'm not actually getting a say in this, am I? It's a good job I think your story'll be interesting, or there wouldn't be a Pyrefly's chance in Hell of me coming along."
"Pff, you were going our way anyway." David pushed open the door to the shop and smiled at Palla. "Now come on, pick a weapon. I'll buy you it, since you're my Guardian and all."
"What, don't I have to do some sort of initiation ceremony or anything? No running screaming through a pit of hot nails? No unarmed combat with an Elder Drake?"
Robert snickered at the idea of Charlie going one on one with any type of Fiend. "We could make you eat a Flan if you like," he said with an evil grin. "Yum yum."
"Fuck off," Charlie growled. He glared round at the weapons on display. What the hell did he know about choosing weapons? Get something pointy, he thought. You know where you are with something pointy. The pointiest weapons there were all varieties of spear, with pleasingly stabby-looking ends on them. Charlie could quite easily imagine himself poking a Wolf with one. Or hitting Rob over the head. Hm, an interesting thought. He reached out a hand and trailed his fingers over the hafts of each, feeling their wood. It was all a pretence though, he didn't know what constituted a good spear, or even how you classified a weapon as a spear, for that matter. Long Stick With Stabby Bit On End, that's how he'd classify them, and it'd make things a lot fucking simpler.
The stabbiest-looking thing there had a sort of... wide bit on the end, with a hooky bit on the side. It looked like an axe or something, and Charlie knew where he was with axes. They made it obvious where the nice holding bit ended and the nasty death bit began.
"I'll take that one," he said, picking it up from the wall-hooks.
"Ah the halberd, a very fine choice, sir," Palla said with a smile. "Would you care for an enchantment on it? Bit of fire could make your life easier on the road."
Charlie looked desperately at David, who shrugged. "No," he said. "No fire. I don't want to set fire to myself or anything."
Robert smirked from behind Charlie, and picked up a large package of potions. "We'll be needing a lot of these," he said, placing them on the counter next to the halberd. "It's a good job Summoners get a special tab for all the shops, isn't it?"
Charlie raised his eyebrow and folded his arms, pulling his best scathing face. "You will be needing a lot of potions, you're right."
"You what? Are you threatening me?"
"Me? I didn't say a thing." Charlie smiled, showing his teeth. "Where're we going next, anyway? We've got a lot of Temples to visit, right?"
"Oh shit, good point, we need a map," David picked up one of the tightly rolled maps on the counter. "This as well please, Palla. Would you put us up a load of packs, too? Enough to last until Rin's place, at least, I'd say." He picked up Charlie's halberd. "We'll be back to pick up the supplies tomorrow morning, okay?"
"Sure thing, Lord Mitchell." Palla curtseyed behind her counter, and David blushed.
"No, don't do that. Please don't do that."
Rob elbowed David in the ribs. "Come on, you're a proper Summoner now, you're entitled to a bit of respect."
"Yeah, well it makes me uncomfortable, all the bowing and whatnot. I don't have a problem with respect in general, I just wish they wouldn't thrust it at me in the form of genuflection, that's all."
"Nothing wrong with a bit of genuflection," Charlie commented. "It's good for keeping the plebs in order. And I don't want to be the ruiner of plans or anything, but I don't really have anywhere to sleep..." he trailed off, hopefully. Another night with his camping gear probably wouldn't kill him, but he didn't really want to take that chance. Plus he was pretty sure that it was going to rain, or snow, or perform some other form of precipitation on his head.
"Don't worry, you can bunk in with us. Can't he, Robert?" That edge was back in David's voice again – the one that said 'don't you dare fuck with me'. For a Summoner with a poncy robe and the floppiest hair he'd ever seen on a man he sure had a good 'don't fuck with me' voice. Charlie was glad that it hadn't been aimed at him. Yet, his inner voice said. You just wait, he's only known you two minutes. He'll get sick of you soon enough. He told his inner voice where to stuff it and grinned at David.
"Thanks," he said, feeling vaguely embarrassed at the hint of relief that crept into his voice. Take that, rainclouds, he thought. You're not pissing on me tonight!
