11 September 2009 @ 05:32 pm
[fic] Roadtrip  
Yes, I did it. Here's the proof.

Title: With Friends Like These, Who Needs Preternaturally Strong Cursed Mummies?
Author: [livejournal.com profile] aoife_hime
Fandom: The Mummy
Rating: PG
Length: 1650
Summary: In which Jonathan fails, Rick unleashes his feminine side, and Ardeth plays dirty and comes out on top.
Notes: Basically a missing scene from the part of the movie where the guys are driving out into the desert to find Winston & his airplane. This whole thing came about mostly as a thank you for Miranda & Betsy for putting up with my late-night fear of being ambushed by claymation mummies on my walk home.

With Friends Like These, Who Needs Preternaturally Strong Cursed Mummies?

“Are we there yet?”

Jonathan’s voice carried quite well over the rush of wind and hum of the engine as their car sped along through the Egyptian desert, Rick noted absently. It was at just the right pitch that you couldn’t ignore it, but not so high pitched that he sounded like a broad. Somehow, it wasn’t surprisingly that Jonathan had mastered the art of whining. As it was, however, Rick had had more than enough of his fill of Jonathan’s complaints in the last hour.

“I can’t believe you’re asking that,” he shouted back. “You’re the one driving the car for Christ’s sake, you should know whether or not we’re ‘there’ yet!”

Next to him, Jonathan rolled his eyes. Or perhaps he was just blinking sand out of them again, Rick couldn’t tell for sure. “I know that, but just because I’m driving doesn’t mean I’m not bored.” He started tapping out a jaunty, uneven rhythm on the steering wheel, as if to emphasize his point. Rick had learned soon after their little mummy adventure had started that Jonathan, along with being terrible at keeping his bloody trap shut, was also terrible at anything relating to music. He’d almost gotten himself thrown off the boat right after dinner that first night when he started crooning along to whatever music the captain piped into the dining room to keep passengers entertained. “Anyways, it’s not like you two,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at the last person in the car, while Ardeth glared back stoically, “are paragons of stimulating conversation or anything.”

Rick reached over and yanked the steering wheel back to the direction they were supposed to be pointing. Why had he let Jonathan drive again?

In the back seat, Ardeth, if he was rumpled by being jerked back and forth in a car by a lousy driver, didn’t give any indication that he minded the bumpy ride. Then again, the only time the man showed some expression was when he was fighting the legions of Imhotep. It was like he’d had all emotion beaten out of him as a child… which, Rick thought, was probably rather accurate. “When we reach Hamunaptra, it will take all of our cunning to kill this monster,” he said in that the-world-is-ending-because-of-you-morons-and-I-must-now-save-it monotone he employed so often. “I must prepare myself for battle.”

“See what I mean?” Jonathan retorted, gesturing to emphasize his point. Unfortunately, this meant the car veered sharply to the right and Rick ended up with his face planted in Jonathan’s shoulder. “And besides,” Jonathan continued, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened, “there’s nothing to look at out here! All you can see is sand dune after sand dune! There isn’t even a bloody pub!”

“Why would there be a pub in the middle of the desert, Jonathan?!” Rick shouted before he could think things through properly. Did he really want to know Jonathan’s rationale for why there should be pubs in the middle of one of the largest deserts in the world? No, not really. It’s just that yelling at Jonathan had quickly become something he didn’t even have to think about to do, much like breathing.

“I don’t know! Something to look at, maybe. Some place to go to sooth the aches and pains of every day desert travel. Something to distract me from realizing that I’m driving to my death! There are a lot of things a pub would be good for right about now.” Jonathan paused. “God, I need some scotch.”

Most days, Rick wished he could say he didn’t understand Jonathan at all. There were times, though, when that man, crazy as he was, hit the nail right on the head.

They drove along in relative silence after that. Rick was actually starting to find the loud whirring of the engine rather soothing; however, just as he found himself drifting off into a sort of half-awake, zoning type of state, Jonathan had to go and be quintessentially Jonathan once more.

“That’s it; I’m pulling over at the next dune. I have to take a leak.”

Rick jerked his head up from where it had fallen to rest on his headrest. “What do you mean, pulling over?” Ah, there he went with the yelling thing again. It was astounding how strong a reaction Jonathan’s idiosyncrasies evoked in him. “We’re in the middle of a desert – there are no roads! Just stop the car and get out if you have to go so bad!”

“Unlike you Americans, we British still prefer a little bit of privacy when going about our business.” Rick swallowed his snort, but in the back seat Ardeth didn’t bother hiding his state of disbelief. Rick was fairly certain that was the most undignified noise he’d ever heard come from their new friend. Jonathan, however, appeared to have selective hearing, though he did turn his nose up just a tad more than usual as he affected his I’m-superior-to-you-for-I-am-British persona. “Now, gentlemen, if you will excuse me for a moment…” he said, putting the car in park and making his way up over the ridge of the nearest sand dune.

“He is an imbecile,” Ardeth said plainly the moment Jonathan was out of sight.

Rick grinned. “Not gonna argue with you on that one.”

“I cannot believe he has managed to fell so many men, both compatriots of mine and of Imhotep.”

“Yeah…” Rick nodded in agreement, thinking back to all of the times since he’d met Jonathan that the man simply should have died but hadn’t. He wasn’t sure if Jonathan had the worst luck in the world or the best. Suddenly, he was snapped out of his musings by an undignified sort of yelp followed by the unmistakable sound of someone falling down and bringing a lot of sand with him.

From the other side of the dune, Jonathan’s voice called out, sheepish and a tad pained. “Guys? A little help here!”

“I just can’t believe he manages to get out of bed in the morning without killing himself most days,” admitted Rick, not making any move to go over the dune and help the incompetent man. There was no way he wanted to see what would most likely be Jonathan, his legs tangled in his trousers and his underwear stuck somewhere around his knees, flailing around in the sand. In the back seat, Ardeth seemed to be thinking along the same lines. At least, he too was making no moves to go and help their driver. A few awkward moments passed, the sounds of Jonathan’s struggle with the mercurial desert sands and his pants drifting back to them on the wind. “So…” Rick finally said, turning to Ardeth and breaking the conversational lull with the first topic that came to his mind. “How do you keep your hair so shiny and healthy-looking?”

… It had sounded far more manly before he’d said it aloud.

Ardeth, for his part, did not immediately scoff off the question like he did Jonathan’s behavior. “How?” he asked rhetorically, the look on his face clearly indicating that he was thinking of how much information to share with his abrasive American ally. “Quite simply,” he began after a brief moment, “I’m a… what would you call it? Ah yes, I am a bad ass.”

A derisive snort sounded from the front passenger seat. “Please. There’s no way you’re more of a bad ass than me. You have smiley faces tattooed on your cheeks.”

“These are not smiley faces! They are sacred words of duty -”

“That look like smiley faces.”

Ardeth sulked, his hands hidden in his black robes. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to mock the highly-skilled man with weapons while they were alone together in the desert? Another lesson learned, Rick thought as he saw Ardeth’s hand twitch slightly beneath the layers of scarves and whatnot that wrapped around his chest. There were probably more sharp implements hidden in there than Rick could count.

“Well thanks a lot for nothing, pals.” The tension lessened noticeably as Jonathan came waddling back down the sand dune, visibly irritated. “I could have roasted out there and what would you blokes have done about it? Nothing.” Jonathan shook out his pants one more time before getting back into the car, though Rick was fairly certain the effort was futile. They were in a desert, after all.

“At least I do not scream like a girl.” Rick whipped back around to see Ardeth glaring at him still, though his frown had been replaced by a smug, challenging sort of grin.

A familiar urge to strangle something awoke in Rick. “What?! I don’t scream like a girl!”

“Your voice does become surprisingly high-pitched when you scream…” Jonathan added, clearly still sore from being ignored earlier.

“I have a very manly scream!”

Ardeth, however, would not be deterred. He was on a roll, after all. “And at least I do not ask other men for hair care advice.”

Jonathan turned to Rick, giving him a cautious, new appraisal. “Really, Rick? I never would have guessed.”

“Shut up, Jonathan. Just because you have no hair…”

“I do so have hair! Look at this!” Jonathan gestured, grabbing a short clump of the hair from the top of his head and holding it up. “This! This is hair! I may not have long hair, but I do have hair!”

Both Rick and Ardeth rolled their eyes. “My grandfather had a beard more impressive than that,” mumbled Rick.

“More impressive? I’ll show you more impressive!”

~#~#~#~

For the first time since they’d begun this crazy adventure from hell, Rick was actually glad they were chasing after an undead mummy with superhuman powers. When they got to the airfield to meet up with Winston, it didn’t seem so out of place that Rick was sporting a new shiner or that Jonathan had a slight split lip. They could just blame it all on the mummy and pretend the astoundingly girlish cat fight back by the treacherous sand dune had never happened…
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Current Music: "Blow Away" - A Fine Frenzy
Current Mood: amused
 
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[identity profile] cal-reflector.livejournal.com on September 12th, 2009 12:58 am (UTC)
“More impressive? I’ll show you more impressive!”

Do I want to know?

You seem to have lost little of your touch despite not having written for such a long time.

You know what I'd really like? I'd like us all to try our hands at writing "Horror" and seeing what we could come up with.
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[identity profile] aoife-hime.livejournal.com on September 12th, 2009 01:03 am (UTC)
Yeah, I felt rusty writing it, no lie. I need to buckle down. Though it's not something I did multiple reads over, either, which also has something to do with it. Basically, it was something of an exercise.

I think I'd be better at psychological horror than at actual 'horror' horror, honestly. But writing things with supernatural bad guys would be all sorts of cheesy fun too!
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[identity profile] cal-reflector.livejournal.com on September 12th, 2009 01:00 am (UTC)
Oh yeah, they should never have cut out this scene from the movie.
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[identity profile] aoife-hime.livejournal.com on September 12th, 2009 01:04 am (UTC)
Hahaha thanks :)

Edited 2009-09-12 01:04 am (UTC)
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[identity profile] stargatejunkie.livejournal.com on September 12th, 2009 03:14 am (UTC)
HAHAHA, I love this.

Ardeth truly is a bad ass but it was that much funnier for him to say it to Rick. ♥!
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[identity profile] aoife-hime.livejournal.com on September 12th, 2009 05:29 am (UTC)
Excellent - glad I could entertain :)

Ardeth totally knows he's a bad ass and I think he wouldn't have any social propriety qualms about saying so to someone like Rick.
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