Author: Margaret Price PM
Dorian and Klaus may speak English, but is it really the same language? Crack!ficRated: Fiction K - English - Humor - Words: 1,333 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 1 - Follows: 1 - Published: 02-28-07 - Status: Complete - id: 3417896
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Warnings: Crackfic, silliness with language, and implied crossover.
Author's Notes: This is for esda, mosellegreen, and riothouse, the German, American and Brit on my f-list respectively.
By Margaret Price
"This is such a ruddy inconvenience," Dorian moaned as he slumped into the uninviting plastic chair of the waiting room. Klaus heaved a sigh but did not reply, taking a seat beside him.
They did not have to wait long. Within minutes, a nurse came out with several papers in her hand. "Mr. Gloria? Mr. Abberback?"
Klaus winced as the woman's New York City accent slaughtered his surname even further. He got to his feet as she crossed to him, holding out the papers.
"Sorry for the wait," she said. "Here are Mr. Gloria's prescriptions." She went over the instructions quickly, having noted the Earl was not really in any condition to be paying attention. In fact, he actually wasn't paying any attention. He seemed on the verge of dropping off to sleep.
"Thank you. I'll get these filled directly," Klaus said tersely, slipping the prescriptions into an inside pocket before helping the nearly dozing Dorian to his feet.
"Just take them to any corner drugstore." The nursed watched Dorian wobble a bit and then lean heavily against Klaus for support. She smiled and shook her head. "You'd better get him to bed right away."
Despite feeling like he'd been run over by a very large lorry, Dorian managed some semblance of a suggestive smile, which quickly faded as the fingers on his arm dug into his flesh. Then he was being hustled out the door.
"I didn't say anything," Dorian said, taking hold of Klaus's arm to keep from walking like a drunken man and possibly getting too intimate with the nearest wall.
"But you were thinking it."
Dorian giggled. "Yes, I was." He shot Klaus a sideways glance. "Are you gonna take her advice, my darling Major?" he purred.
Klaus did not reply right away as they emerged onto the street. He looked up at the night sky and groaned inwardly. He did not even want to think how much of their vacation they had wasted in that 24-hour clinic. "Which advice? Getting you to bed? Or going to the corner drugstore?"
It was an effort, but Dorian managed to roll his eyes. "Klaus, my head is pounding too much to get into this."
"Get into what?"
"The fact that you can't buy drugs in a drugstore in Germany."
A knowing smiled curled the edges of Klaus's mouth. It was an ongoing game of semantics that the multilingual pair seemed to play at any giving time, especially in a country not their own. Klaus threw Dorian a concerned look before he scanned up and down the block for a Pharmacy of any kind. At least in New York, he knew there would be some that stayed open 24-hours.
"Anyway," Dorian was saying beside him, "we need to find a Chemist,"
Klaus gave an amused snort. "When was the last time you bought chemicals from a Chemist?"
Now Dorian's head was really pounding. He put a hand to his temple and closed his eyes. "How about you hale us a cab? There has to be several hundred drugstores—" Klaus shot him a sideways look and he quickly corrected himself. "Pharmacies in New York."
As it happened, haling a cab was unnecessary. They scarcely stepped up to the curb when one pulled up. "Where to?"
"The nearest Apothecary," Klaus said obstinately.
Before Dorian could translate this for the driver, whom he was sure would be completely clueless as to what the German meant, the man grinned. "Y'don't need me," he said, pointing alongside the building they had just exited. "Just take that alleyway. There's an Apothecary on the other side."
The stunned pair turned, seeing the alleyway for the first time. In fact, the Major was certain it had not been there when he took Dorian into the clinic how ever many hours ago, which was ridiculous. Alleys did not just appear out of thin air. Beside him, Dorian was thanking the driver, slipping a folded bill into his hand.
"Not too much further," Klaus said as he helped the woozy Dorian down the alley.
"I wish I had some of the headache powders I got when I was in New York once. They worked so quickly," Dorian said quietly "You don't suppose that doctor wrote a prescription for those, do you?"
Klaus stopped dead when they emerged from the alley. Then he heard Dorian give a gasp when his eyes fell on their destination on the opposite side of the street. It was a very old building. Probably a Historic Landmark, although he could not see any dedication plaque. It was Victorian by the look of it, all carved wood and stenciled glass. Even the lights on the exterior of the building looked like gas lamps.
"Oh, this is worth getting sick for," Dorian breathed, making sure he had a firm grip on Klaus's arm as they crossed the remarkably quiet street. If he didn't know better, he would've expected to hear a horse drawn carriage any minute.
"You see, not a drugstore," Klaus said smugly, nodding at the huge sign above the door announcing the business within to be an Apothecary.
"Yes, Klaus," Dorian said meekly, adding, "Perhaps the Chemist will have those headache powders." Then he winced when the door opened, causing an antique bell above to clang loudly.
Again, Klaus found himself stopping dead in his tracks. Like the exterior, the inside was straight from the past; shelves packed with neat stacks, rows of wooden drawers, a ladder attached to the wall set in a track that would roll aback and forth to allow access to the highest shelf.
Klaus heard another mischievous giggle from the Earl and braced himself.
"It really is an Apothecary. Perhaps we can get some eye of newt and bat's wing while we're here."
The temptation to let the Earl fall to the floor was nearly overwhelming at this point. "And perhaps your Chemist can make some powder I can mix up to blow your head off." Klaus pulled out the prescription at the same time and waved them in Dorian's face. "Anyway, headache powder won't help the flu."
"Floo powder?" a sharp voice called from the end of the room.
Dorian and Klaus turned from their argument in progress to see a smallish man in his shirtsleeves pop up from behind the counter.
"Yes, yes, plenty of floo powder," he said in the same nervous voice as the pair advanced towards him. He quickly wiped the dust from his hands on the butcher's apron he was wearing. "Don't usually have anyone stopping in this late." He saw the prescriptions in the Major's hand and his eyes practically danced in his head. "Oh, supplies is it? That explains it." He practically clapped his hands together in his excitement.
"I say," Dorian began slowly, "this is what they call a—?" He got no further as the man behind the counter gave a loud squeal, which did not help his pounding head.
"Oh! Oh Jiminy Crickets. You're from— Oh my gosh! No one's gonna believe this."
Dorian and Klaus blinked and exchanged a look of mutual bewilderment. Had the man never met anyone from Europe before?
"No, no, don't tell me," the man bubbled on. "I can tell a professor a mile off." He pointed a finger at the stunned pair first at the Earl and then at the Major. "You…youyouyouyou…you're Potions, right? And you…oh! The Dark Arts. Tell me I'm wrong!"
Dorian gave Klaus a steady look. "You wanted an Apothecary."