Gators

Summary: Mr Giggles is a desperate, love struck agent for the OSS who is endlessly devoted to Dickens's fictional David Copperfield. He achieves the impossible by creating a pathway between fictional worlds and his own. Chaos ensues. Crossover slashfic nonhuman MPreg. Enjoy!

Once upon a time a very powerful person got very bored. This was not a good combination. His name was Giggles. Mr Giggles. Mr Giggles had a very unhealthy obsession with Charles Dickens. He woke up one morning after an inspiring dream, due to his falling asleep lovingly, tenderly stroking his tattered copy of David Copperfield. It was his beloved. The dream had given him a brilliant idea, an idea that had filled him with hope. Mr Giggles was going to make his own dreams come true and nobody could stop him.

He was going to invent a machine! And it was going to work - hopefully. He was going to invent a machine that could bring fictional characters to life. A mad idea, but he was determined as ever. See, Mr Giggles had always been a very determined man. He wasn't the type to give up easily, no matter who or what his opposition was. He was determined to grow up a respectable man, despite his surname, and he succeeded. He was determined to raise his son as a decent spy, and he succeeded. He was also determined to hold onto the hair he had remaining on his head, but that was proving to be not quite as successful as his previous endeavours.

So that morning he marched down to the OSS and began constructing his machine. He locked himself away in an awfully dusty room in the basement and started gathering all the required bits and bobs for his new creation. He slaved away until the clock struck twelve at night. Wiping the sweat off his brow, Mr Giggles stood back to admire his masterpiece. The sight of it made him go weak in the knees. Was he dreaming, or had he really created the machine that would make his dreams come true? The possibilities now open to him flooded his brain and the excitement was simply too much. He passed out on the floor.

He dreamt of wild ostriches chasing him through deserts, fields and oceans. He was frightened out of his wits. He didn't want this! All he wanted was David Copperfield in his arms whispering sweet nothings in his ear. As soon as he came to, he jumped up, grabbed his copy and was about to start the machine. He paused for a second and sniffed. WHAM. The smell was so foul it had thrown him back to the wall. What was that disgusting stench? He sniffed again and CRUNCH! He had been blasted through the bricks. The smell was coming from his own body! Oh well, he could get around to fixing the wall later - a shower was of the utmost importance. He couldn't greet the love of his life in this state.

The nearest showers were on the second floor of the magnificent OSS (Organisation of Super Spies) establishment. Once making sure his machine was protected from evil, imaginary ostriches, he then advanced up the stairs. He reached for the door handle at the top but it just wouldn't budge. Mr. Giggles was very puzzled. Why on earth was the door not opening? He tried pushing again with all his might. He soon ran out of might. He was so not in the mood for this!

He heard footsteps approaching from behind. "Mr Giggles!" He turned around. The source the voice turned out to be a nervous office clerk. "Sir. The bathroom has been closed due to an unusual number of ostriches who decided to move in." Well, there was no chance he would ever use these bathrooms again. He would have to find somewhere else to shower, and fast.

Mr Giggles whipped out his thinking cap. He had two options. He could quickly dash home and shower or he could go visit Grandma Giggles and shower there. He thought going home wouldn't be such a great idea though. Mrs Giggles was surely watching the door like the hawk she was! He couldn't have his wife finding out about another one of his schemes. A few hours ago, Mr Giggles would have thought his second option wouldn't have been so bad. But he remembered Grandma Giggles likes to stay up late at night watching the NOC (National Ostrich Championships); similar to horse races.

TO BE CONTINUED!

Written by two really bored dorks - aurorstorm & TheIllusionoftheNight