Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Alison was sitting in the TV room, watching QI with Pat. She was trying - and failing miserably - to embroider a flower onto a piece of fabric she had found lying in one of the old boxes. She'd checked with the ghosts in case it belonged to any of them, before printing off a template from the Internet. Fanny had insisted that she at least tried embroidery ('all true ladies know how to sew, Alison'), but at that moment in time it was taking all of her willpower to not throw it out of the window.

A clamour from outside drew her attention to the window, and she put the fabric down, not trusting herself to keep it safe as she approached the window.

What she saw shocked her to the core.
"What's wrong, Alison?" Pat asked, approaching her, but also froze as he saw the cause of the commotion outside.

"Doctor, what the bloody hell are you doing?" Bill yelled at him, clinging on to the Tardis like her life depended on it, which it probably did.
"The old girl doesn't want to land. It's fascinating, she hasn't behaved like this since..."
"Not fascinating. Annoying. Now please park or I think I might throw up."
"Okay, okay." The Doctor pulled a lever, and with a giant lurch the Tardis came to a stop.
"Nardole got lucky, missing out on this." Bill tutted and crossed her arms.
"Come on, Bill, let's see where we've ended up." The Doctor opened the door of the Tardis, and gestured for Bill to exit. She rolled her eyes but complied.

"Woah, that is one big house." She breathed as the Doctor stepped out next to her.
"Ah, Button House. Haven't been here in a very long time." He sighed.
"You mean you've been here before?"
"Yes. Don't know why we ended up here, though." An almighty bang sounded from behind them, making them jump.
"The Tardis ain't meant to smoke, Doctor."

"Crowley, we're lost, aren't we?"
"What? No! No. I know where we are. Definitely."
"Dear," Aziraphale sighed, leaning back against the seat of the Bentley.
"Well you're the one who's dead set against sat navs."
"You invented them, dear."
"Yes, I know that, but..." Crowley tailed off as a large house appeared into his view. Although large house was not doing it justice, it was more of a mansion.

"Oh, we're at Button House." Aziraphale gasped. "I haven't been here in a very long time."
"Y'know this place, angel?"
"Why yes, of course. I'm surprised you haven't come across it in your travels. I dined with George Button and his wife here in 1906, I think it was."

Crowley pulled up next to the, frankly inferior, car already parked on the gravel. He saw Aziraphale as he looked out the window at the grass.
"Angel, what's up?" Aziraphale just gestured to the window. Crowley opened his car door and stepped out, resting his hands on the roof. About 200 yards from him, he saw a young woman and an old man staring at a blue police box, which seemed to be smoking.
"Angel, I think the Doctor's here."

The sound of tyres alerted the Doctor to the fact that somebody else was there, but he was too preoccupied with looking at his precious Tardis.
"No, no, no, old girl, why are you doing this again?" Bill scoffed.
"Again? Jesus, you really don't know how to control her, do you?"
"Language, young lady. Jesus was rather a nice man." A posh voice stated from behind her. She spun round to come face to face with a middle aged man with blonde hair, dressed like he was from the Victorian era. Next to him was a tall man with fiery red hair, dressed in all black.

"Aziraphale, Crowley, it's been a while." The Doctor smiled, shaking hands with both of them.
"Nice to see you, Doctor. Too busy for armageddon, were we?" Crowley smirked. The Doctor waved his hand dismissively.
"Ah, there's been many armageddons. I'm there for most of them."
"Sorry, Doctor, you know these people?" Bill raised an eyebrow.
"Ah yes, Bill. This is Aziraphale, guardian of the Eastern gate, and Crowley, the original tempter. Long story short, angel and demon."

Bill turned to the men.
"So, shouldn't you be like... smiting each other or whatever it is you celestials do?"
"Ah, well, yes, you see, we decided that..." Aziraphale stuttered.
"Basically our offices were full of shitty people so we told them to stick it." Crowley explained.
"Don't be so crude, dear." Aziraphale said fondly.

"So you two are together then, right?" Bill asked. The Doctor coughed behind her, badly disguising a snort.
"I'm afraid I don't quite follow,' Aziraphale replied.
"Y'know, you two are, like, dating, right?" Both the angel and the demon blushed and looked at the floor.
"Oh, it's like that then. Mutual pining, slow burn, 100k words, kinda thing." Bill nodded knowingly. Aziraphale frowned at her.
"What..."
"Ignore her, angel." Crowley interrupted him, waving Bill away. She giggled before joining the Doctor who was trying extremely hard not to burst into laughter.

Merlin trudged past the lake for the third time that day. He was lost in his own thoughts, his long white hair blowing around his face.

He looked up from the ground when he heard a loud bang followed by human voices. Curious, he decided to follow the noise. Trudging his way through the long grass - it really did need a trim - he turned a corner to find a blue police box, a black Bentley, and four people of differing ages standing on the grass. He recognised two of them, and had a good idea who one of the others was.

"Merlin?" The old man, Scottish, he noted, turned to face him. "Long time no see!" Ah, this was the Doctor then.
"You too, Doctor. What number face are we on now?"
"Twelfth. Gallifrey granted me some more, they're probably regretting it now." The Doctor chuckled, shaking Merlin's hand.

"Merlin, old pal! How you doing?" Crowley piped up from behind the Doctor.
"Crowley, haven't seen you since the 60s. Church robbery go well?"
"Eh, called it off. Angel here gave me what what I wanted."
"Mmm. And how about the... other thing?" Crowley pointed a finger in Merlin's face.
"Don't you dare mention that." He growled.
"Yes, so threatening." Merlin chuckled, before moving towards the house.
"How have I never come across this before?"
"If it's any consolation, I haven't either." Crowley clapped him on the shoulder.
"...you mean the Merlin? Like, the powerful sorcerer Merlin?"
"Yes, Bill." She shook her head.
"There's so much you ain't told me."
"You never asked!" The Doctor exclaimed.

"Alison, there appears to be five intruders standing on the grass outside, as well as a blue box and a gorgeous Bentley." The Captain stated as he entered the TV room.
"Yeah, thanks Cap, I noticed." Alison waved her hand at him half heartedly.
"Alison, I demand that you go and talk to the enemy at once." This snapped Alison out of her staring. She rolled her eyes.
"They're not enemies, Captain. Fine, I'll go and talk to them." She added as the Captain raised an eyebrow.

As she left, the Captain stood next to Pat, looking out of the window. He'd been spending more time with him recently, ever since they'd bonded over Taskmaster a week before.
("Those balloons are in Morse Code."
"I know, he said that as well. How did nobody uncode it?"
"Do they even know Morse Code?"
"Everyone knows Morse Code, Alison.")

The Captain was standing closer to Pat than was strictly necessary, but there were intruders, he was simply protecting him. The fact that they were ghosts and therefore virtually unharmable didn't cross his mind.

All the ghosts, including the Captain and Pat, were standing just outside the door to Button House.
"Alright guys, just ssh a minute. I need to talk to them, okay?" Alison held up her hand in a silencing gesture as the five strangers walked over to her.

"Hi, I'm Alison, I own the house here. Is there anything I can do for you?" She asked. One of the men, the tall one with red hair, stepped forwards. But instead of saying anything, his head morphed into a red-yellow beast momentarily before returning to its human form.

Alison didn't even bat an eyelid. When you live in a house full of ghosts, it takes a lot to surprise you.

The Captain clearly didn't feel the same, as he promptly fainted. Pat knelt beside him, concerned.

"Thanks for that. Didn't really answer my question, though." Alison said calmly to the man in question, whose smirk firmly fell off his face.

"Sorry, excuse us, it's just..." the blonde haired man trailed off as he stared at Fanny, who was staring straight back.
"Lady Button?"
"Mr Fell?"
"Woah, hold on, you can see them?" Alison asked, shocked.
"Ah, well yes. Ghosts, I assume?" Alison nodded.

"Ugh, ignore these oldies. You're probably wondering who we are. Right," the young woman clapped her hands together.
"Those two are called Aziraphale and Crowley, they're an angel and a demon." She pointed to the two middle aged men.
"This," she gestured to the man standing next to her, "is the Doctor. He's an alien. I'm Bill, I serve chips at a uni on Earth, I'm your average human. And that," Bill gestured to the old man standing behind her, "is Merlin, like the Merlin, the magic one from King Arthur."

"Right." Alison nodded, trying to process all the information she had just been given. "And how many of you can see the ghosts behind me?" They all raised their hands.
"Okay, explain."

"Well, I was discorporated rather recently. I couldn't see ghosts until then, but I assume that it counts as dying." Aziraphale explained.
"Fell from heaven, didn't I? As good as dying." Crowley shrugged.
"I've regenerated 12 times, it would be disconcerting if I couldn't see them. Nice to see you, Robin." The Doctor added, nodding at the caveman, who looked confused.
"Some idiot blasted a massive hole in the middle of my chest. Managed to patch me up somehow, but I was dead for a bit." Bill rolled her eyes, as if dying was a minor inconvenience.
"And you?" Alison pointed to Merlin.
"I'm 1,500 years old, I've been in a few scrapes."

Alison sighed, scrubbing a hand over her face.
"Right, okay. So what are you actually doing here?"
"Well, the Doctor and I are stranded cos his Tardis - flying spaceship thing, looks like a police box, long story - broke." Bill tutted.
"Our smart demon here got us lost." Aziraphale chided, albeit fondly.
"I heard a commotion, I followed." Merlin shrugged.

Alison exhaled slowly, before groaning quietly. It was going to be a long day.

Chapter Text

Alison ran a hand over her face. She had managed to get the five eccentrics sat down in the main common room with a cup of tea each. She still wasn't quite sure what was going on - not the angel, demon, alien and wizard thing - after she'd met the ghosts she was willing to believe anything - but the fact that they all seemed to know each other, and they had all turned up on her doorstep at the same moment on the same day.

"Come again?" Mike stared at her, confused. She had tried to explain what had happened, but since she didn't really know herself she found it hard to articulate her thoughts.
"Just... leave it to me. They can all see the ghosts too." Alison added over her shoulder as she picked up her cup of tea and headed to her designated armchair.

"...came here in 1520? Thereabouts. I didn't have this face then. Robin's ghost was here, but that's why he doesn't recognise me." Alison sat down and sighed deeply.
"Okay. So, your spaceship is broken?" Bill and the Doctor nodded. "Right. You and your demon friend here are lost, without a sat nav, smart move." Aziraphale and Crowley looked at each other, seemingly having an argument with their eyes. "And you, you just thought, 'oh, this looks like trouble, I'll join in?'" Merlin shrugged. Alison took in a deep breath.

"Are any of you remotely aware that there is a pandemic? And that we're due to be locked down TOMORROW?" Merlin and Bill looked at her with wide eyes.
"Doctor, you got us stuck in a bloody pandemic?? What year are we in?" Bill retorted. The Doctor rubbed his forehead with his hand.
"2020, we are stuck in 2020. Why, of all years, did the Tardis decide to land here?"

Merlin stared at the ground solemnly. A pandemic? Again? He thought Arthur would rise when the Great War started, especially when the Spanish Flu struck. Albion certainly needed him then, and the same was happening now. He sighed. He'd lost almost all hope of his king ever returning.

"...Merlin?" He snapped back to the present.
"Sorry? No, no I didn't know. Not much point in me staying up to date with the news." He looked back down at the floor.

"Right, well, unless you all leave within the next 14 hours, you're stuck here for the time being." Alison thumped her head back against the armchair.
"Ooh, more guests, how fun!" Kitty squealed as she appeared through the wall. Bill jumped slightly.
"Kitty, I thought I told you to stay with the others?" Alison chided.
"It's okay, Alison. Nice to meet you, Kitty." The Doctor nodded at her.
"Can you tell the others we need a house meeting in about 5 minutes?" Kitty nodded before skipping away.

"You mean they're staying?" Julian asked, dumbfounded.
"Yes, yes, they're staying. There's nothing I can do, it's the rules."
"How exciting!" Kitty clapped her hands together.
"What be a pandemic?" Mary asked quietly.
"It's, um, y'know like the plague, sorta like that." Alison explained vaguely, waving a hand at Mary.

The Captain looked like he was about to explode.
"Alison, there is clearly no place for them to stay. Now, this house is loud enough as it is without these... hooligans running about the place."
"I prefer kind gentleman, myself." The Captain snapped his head up. The angel from earlier was standing in the doorway, with a genuine smile on his face.
"I'm sorry to intrude. We wouldn't want to impose on you, after all as ghosts you are stuck here, but we do not have anywhere else to go at this point." Alison smiled back at him. He had a nice atmosphere wherever he went - comes with being an angel, she mused.

"Right, so we're gonna need 4 bedrooms for this lot to stay in. Mary and Kitty, are you alright with sharing?" They both nodded, Kitty about to burst with excitement.
"Robin and Julian, you can bunk in with Humphrey. And try to keep his body in the room, it creeps me out, let alone our guests." Julian tutted but agreed.
"One more... hmm..."

To the Captain's delight and apprehension, he had ended up sharing with Pat in the attic. He had retired early for the night, the stress of the day having worn him down. He sympathised with Alison; the newcomers on top of the ghosts - it must feel like commanding a regiment of rowdy soldiers. And boy, did the Captain know what that was like.

The attic was draughty at best, downright miserable at worst. The Captain eyed the bed in the corner of the room (was it a room?). It was old, damp and clearly untouched by anyone living for decades. He could now see why Alison was unwilling to offer this as one of the bedrooms for her guests.

He sighed. He'd slept outside in the British weather, he could cope with this. He lay down stiffly on the bed, gripping his swagger stick. After the tiring events of the day, he quickly fell asleep.

"I'm sorry, WHAT??" Crowley yelled at Aziraphale, who kept perfectly calm.
"The kind young lady assumed we were together. I didn't want to interrupt, so..."
"So we have to share a room??"
"Well, yes. I hardly think it's that big a deal."
"Not that big a..." Crowley started pacing up and down the room they were in (the library, naturally. Aziraphale couldn't keep his hands off old books). He ran his hands through his already disheveled hair, staring at the floor. His breathing sped up, his eyes wide and okay he was panicking now...

"...dear?" A quiet voice snapped him out of his downward spiral. He looked over at Aziraphale, who was sitting on a chair with a book on his lap.
"Sorry angel, what?" He asked.
"I said, we've shared before, surely we can do it again? The ghosts have already compromised for us, I don't want to bother them any more."
"Right, right, yep, okay." Crowley nodded, thanking... well, someone, that he was still wearing his sunglasses so Aziraphale couldn't see the panic in his eyes.
"Sharing a room, how hard can it be?"

"Everything alright?" Mike asked as Alison climbed into bed. She sighed deeply, nestling into the covers.
"Yeah, just... long day. And now we've got five people staying in our house for lockdown."
"YOU WHAT?? We're not a hotel!"
"Yeah, I know, we'll..." she yawned, "sort it out tomorrow." Mike just shook his head before joining Alison in sleep.

The Captain woke up in the middle of the night to a warmth that surrounded him. He leant back into it, still partly unconscious, before his brain caught up with him. He frowned, turning his head to the side to see where the source of heat was coming from.

Ah.

Pat was lying next to him - although 'next to' is a loose term, 'on' would be more accurate. The Captain was flat on his back, with Pat's head on his chest. One arm was tucked underneath him while the other was thrown loosely over his waist, and their legs had somehow become intertwined.

The Captain froze. He thought about moving, but as he tried to inch his way out of Pat's hold the scout leader made a whining noise and tightened his grip, still asleep. That made the Captain's mind up. If Pat wanted him there, who was he to deny him?

His decision to stay had nothing to do with Pat's serene face as he snuggled into the Captain's chest, of course.

Crowley was lying on side, feigning sleep. Aziraphale was sitting on the edge of the bed, reading one of the many books he had taken out of the library. Crowley could just roll over, pretending to be asleep, and just...

"Crowley, dear, I can practically hear you thinking."

Right. That plan was out of the window.

"Sorry, 'ngel, jus' can't sleep." Crowley mumbled, shifting so he was lying face down on the bed like a starfish. He knew that sharing a room was going to be torturous, but every move, every sound, it just reminds him of what he was missing out on.

His trail of thought ended as he felt a pull on his arm. He turned his face to the side to see the angel peering down at him with a fond smile on his face.
"Come here, dear." Crowley looked confused, but Aziraphale gently moved him so that the demon had his head in the angel's lap. He inhaled sharply as a hand started running through his hair, massaging his scalp.
"Sleep now, dear." Aziraphale whispered to him, his voice laced with a miracle, and Crowley obliged.

Just before he drifted off, he hears Aziraphale murmur,
"And dream of whatever you like best."

Chapter Text

A loud bang followed by a similar volume of swearing woke Alison up with a start. She looked at the time on her phone - 9am. She frowned. The Captain had normally done his morning run by this point. And she'd slept through Fanny screaming.

"FUCKING THING!!" Alison rolled her eyes before moving to get up out of bed. Bleary eyed, she made her way downstairs to the main common room, where the commotion was coming from.

"Now dear, if you just..."
"I know how to work a bloody hoover, angel!"
"Well, it seems that you don't..." Alison walked into the room, widening her eyes at the sight that greeted her. Crowley was wrestling with their vacuum cleaner, seemingly trying to find the on button. Aziraphale was patiently trying to explain what he was doing wrong, while Merlin stood about three feet away, watching the scene unfold.

There was also a load of cheerios scattered across the floor.

Alison coughed. Crowley looked up from where he was giving the vacuum cleaner the bird, and a quiet 'oh' escaped his lips. Alison raised an eyebrow.
"Everything alright?" Crowley opened and closed his mouth like a fish, seemingly lost for words.
"I'm terribly sorry for waking you up, madam. There was a slight incident and my acquaintance here was trying to clear it up." Aziraphale explained calmly, before smirking and adding,
"Not very well, evidently."
"Oh shut up, angel." Crowley snapped, glaring daggers at the hoover.

"Just... let me do it. Sort yourself out another bowl of cereal, and maybe eat it in the kitchen?" Alison gestured for Crowley to pass her the vacuum cleaner, which he did with relief spread across his face. Merlin shook his head, silently laughing before making his way to the kitchen behind the celestials.

"Well at least this lockdown won't be boring." Alison muttered to herself, turning the hoover on with ease.

The Captain blinked his eyes open slowly. Daylight was shining through the beams in the attic, far brighter than it should be for 8am in March. He must have woken up late. He hadn't done that since he was in his 20s and had tried his hand at alcohol (it was the first and only time). As he made to sit up, a soft sigh from beside him made him freeze.

Ah. Right.

The last night flooded back to him, and he turned his head to see Pat slowly waking up. He lay back down - if he pretended to be asleep Pat couldn't say anything.

It was a good plan. It should have worked. However, it became clear to the Captain that it hadn't, as Pat whispered in his ear,
"Morning."

The Captain turned his head so that it was facing Pat. The scout master was smiling softly at him, and the Captain thought he looked ethereal. Better than ethereal, he added to himself, as he now knew what an angel looked like and they didn't hold a candle to Pat.

"Good morning." He whispered back, his voice cracking. The Captain blushed, turning away. He knew this feeling, he knew what it would lead to and he knew that he had to stop before it became uncontrollable.

"Cap? You alright?" Pat asked, more awake than he had been a couple of minutes before. The Captain didn't respond, opting to stare at the ceiling - or what was left of it, in any case - instead.
"Okay, don't talk to me, stay a repressed old man." Pat sighed, moving to a sitting position before standing and leaving the room, glancing back at the Captain as he descended the stairs.

The Captain let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. His insides felt all fuzzy and warm, and he knew that he had to make it stop. Because the last time he didn't - well, he was still recovering.
"You can't fall like that again," he muttered to himself. "It's not healthy, and it's not allowed."

A tiny part of himself, one that he rarely let out, added onto his list.

He won't like you back.

"So, yous is a witch?" Mary asked, confused, to Merlin.
"A warlock, actually. But I have known witches, yes."
"But is that not illegals? Hows was you not burned?" Merlin thought back to his time in Camelot, all those centuries ago.
"I got lucky. Many people were executed, including being burned." Memories of those days flashed before his eyes - the screams, the smell of burning flesh, the clunk of an axe, the creak of a trapdoor, the...

He snapped himself out of his stupor. Mary was looking at him, concerned.
"I may not have died myself, but I saw many others executed. It was horrible. They were being killed for something they could not control. They were killed for something they were born with." Merlin shook his head, a tear running down his cheek.

"I was killed fors being a witch." Mary mumbled. "I wasn't." She added.
"I'm sorry." Merlin nodded at her. She shrugged.
"Twas not the only one."

They sat in silence for a while, before Merlin asked,
"Do you want to see some magic?" Mary gasped.
"Is it not the work of the devil?"
"What? No, no. Magic is just part of the earth. It is just gifted to some and not others. When I was young, anybody could learn magic, but those born with it were stronger." He cupped his hands together, and whispered. His eyes flashed gold, before opening his hands and holding up a single red rose.

Mary clapped her hands, not sure whether to be scared or amazed.

The Doctor gently opened the door of the Tardis. He wasn't sure what had caused her to spontaneously combust, but it had happened and he had to try and find a way to fix it.

Sparks flew and he stepped back. It wasn't looking hopeful.
"Come on girl, what's wrong?" He murmered quietly, approaching the console. Most of the buttons had shattered and the remains were lying across the floor, and the main lever had snapped.
"How's it looking?" Bill called from outside.
"Not great, I'm afraid." He called back. Surveying the damage, he picked up his electric guitar (which was still intact - he kept it in the bomb proof safe for a reason) and stepped back outside.

"Well?" Bill asked him.
"I still don't know the cause of the explosion, but she should heal herself."
"Right, and how long's that gonna take?"
"A couple of months?"
"MONTHS? Bloody hell, Doctor. We're stuck in a pandemic for months??" Bill yelled at him.
"Afraid so." Bill groaned before turning around and stomping back to the house.

The Doctor sighed. It was going to be a long couple of months.

Chapter Text

It had been about a week since the national lockdown had begun, and Button House was settling into a new rhythm. The Captain had stopped doing his morning runs to Alison's surprise, but when she asked him about it he simply blushed and walked away, muttering something about already being dead. Humphrey, Mary and Kitty were still reading their books in the morning and Thomas was introduced to Queen by Crowley. Merlin helped Alison with the household chores, his magic sped things up.

Mary was still incredibly apprehensive about having a literal demon in the house. She had stopped screaming 'DEVIL!!!!' every time Crowley entered the room, but everyone could tell she wasn't very happy. Aziraphale decided to try and make peace between the two of them. Mary was currently in the main common room, and he gestured for Crowley to follow him.

"Hello there, Mary. Is it okay if we have a quick word?" Aziraphale asked kindly. Mary bit her lip before shrugging. She liked the angel, he made her feel wanted and important.
"So I know you have some... questions, but I promise you that Crowley wouldn't hurt a fly." Aziraphale smiled.
"Would. Am a snake, after all." Crowley grumbled, sprawling across the sofa.
"You be a serpent?" Mary asked, eyes wide.
"The original." Crowley waved his arm in a bowing gesture, narrowly avoiding falling off the sofa.

Mary was very anxious to be conspiring with a demon, but the angel seemed very fond of him, and she ultimately decided that if an angel could fratenise with a demon, so could she.

Bill, the Doctor, the Captain and Robin were sitting in the TV room, watching a documentary about the moon landing. The Captain had missed the last one the house had watched, since he had to persuade Alison to not dig up the garden instead of looking at a screen (not that it had made any difference in the end).

"You know, you never actually took me to the moon," Bill commented. "Only that creepy ass space station where the space suits tried to kill us."
"What?" Robin asked, intrigued.
"Oh, just some capitalist scheme. We got out of it alive, so..." Bill shrugged.

"What is moonah like?" Robin asked the Doctor.
"Well, it's very rocky, for starters. Artificial gravity is very odd... oh wait, the humans haven't invented that yet. It's quite fun to jump around, as the gravity is very weak. To be completely honest it isn't very interesting." The Doctor explained. Robin's mouth formed a perfect 'o', before bombarding him with more questions.
"How big is it?"
"Can you eat it?"
"Is it alive?" The Doctor tried his best to answer all of Robin's questions, but he was struggling to keep up.

The documentary on the moon landing finished, and Robin left. The TV was showing a repeat of Friends.
"What is this, an American sitcom?" The Doctor commented, an eyebrow raised. Bill gasped.
"Doctor, even you must have watched Friends!" The Doctor shrugged, and Bill tutted.
"Pop culture, your one downfall. Heather and I watched this on our last date."
"How romantic." The Doctor replied sarcastically. The Captain coughed, alerting Bill to his presence.

"Sorry Cap mate, forgot you were there." Bill apologised.
"That’s perfectly okay. I just... Heather is a female name, is it not?"
"Yeah, and?" Bill challenged him. "You got a problem with that?"
"No no, of course not. But... that's legal now?" He asked.
"Yeah, I mean there's still homophobes out there, but gays can marry and there's pride and..."
"Pride?"

Bill gave the Captain a quick summary of the history of gay rights, the Doctor occasionally interjecting.
("Marsha P Johnson, lovely woman, gave me a flower from her crown.")
"So... a man would be allowed to marry another man?" The Captain asked, astonished.
"Yeah. Love is love." Bill replied, smiling. She had a suspicion as to why the Captain was interested in all of this, her gaydar was usually pretty accurate. She hoped the Captain was learning to accept himself, she understood firsthand how hard internalised homophobia is.

And from the looks the Captain gave Pat, Bill had a good idea of who he liked too.

It was movie night, and Pat had decided to give his choice to their guests. He didn't realise what chaos that would cause.

"Dickens is a classic!"
"Angel, I invented the musical. I'm not going to sit through one."
"How bout Legally Blonde?"
"I thought you would have better taste, Bill."
"Shut up, Merlin."
"Frozen's a modern film."
"Wow, 1 point to the Doctor for actually naming a film from the last 10 years!"
"What bout 1917?"
"Going from American comedy to period drama, that's a wide range you got there."

"Guys, guys! Can we please just choose a film!" Alison yelled at them. They managed to come to an agreement (or rather, Aziraphale and Thomas decided they were watching Richard III and nobody could change their minds). They all settled down as Alison pressed play.

"I've met Shakespeare. Lovely fellow. Dear Crowley here helped make Hamlet a success."
"Ngk. Shut up, angel."
"I've met him too. Just about managed to stop him inadvertently opening a portal to let witches through."
"Why's there always danger with you?"
"Ssh! Some of us are actually trying to watch the film!"

Mike walked in halfway through, looking to his wife so she could indicate where he could sit. It was very odd, living in a house with not only ghosts, but 5 eccentrics who could also see them. He felt a bit left out, but at least it gave him motivation to take his frustration out on stripping the wallpaper.

He saw Benedict Cumberbatch on the screen, and assumed it was a period drama. It wasn't until he actually started listening to the words before he realised what it was.
"We're watching bloody Shakespeare?" He whispered to Alison.
"Shush, it's the only film we could agree on," Alison hissed back, gesturing for him to sit next to her.

The film ended, and the bickering started almost instantly.

"It's a masterpiece!"
"It's some boring words from a boring writer. Had to study him at Cambridge."
"How dare you insult the master, sir!"
"Richard was actually a decent guy. It's only politics that put him in a bad light."
"Right! That song from Horrible Histories, the one where he has a go at a wasp at the end."
"You what, Bill?"
"Honestly, are none of you educated?"
Alison sighed. The ghosts were a handful in amongst themselves, but with others?

It was a total nightmare.

Chapter Text

Pat was running music club, as usual, except Bill and the Doctor had decided to join them. He'd simply shrugged - the more the merrier, in his opinion. So far they'd had the Captain sing Pack Up Your Troubles, much to his delight - he really did have the most beautiful voice. Mary had sung something akin to Greensleeves, and Bill had fished her phone out of her pocket to play... well, something.
("It's viking metal!"
"It's an assault on the ears, is what it is!")

It was currently the Doctor's turn, and he had decided to use his guitar. He had just finished fiddling with the frankly tiny amp, they were much bigger in the 80s, and plugged his guitar in. A Yamaha, Pat noted. He wondered what it would be like to play. He had been very lucky, his father had bought a Fender guitar back in the 50s when he visited the States, and it had become Pat's on his 18th birthday. It was one thing he really missed, but watching the Doctor play partially satisfied that need.

After playing a quick scale to warm himself up, the Doctor played the opening of a well known piece of music. Pat couldn't quite name it, but he was really enjoying the Doctor's rendition on electric guitar. As he finished and took a mock bow, they all clapped.

Well, almost all of them.

Thomas looked... appalled. There wasn't a better way to put it. His mouth was hanging open in shock, and disgust was evident in his face.
"Thomas? What's up?" Bill asked. The ghost shakily raised a hand to point accusingly at the Doctor.
"Beethoven was a genius. You dare... insult his work like this? Symphony no.5 was the height of modern music! It should be treated with respect! Not played on an angry guitar by a... by a lunatic!!"
"I've met Beethoven. Nice chap. Very intense. Loved an arm wrestle. Impressive eyebrows, too."
"Oh will you just shut up, sir! I cannot take this... this mockery any more. I am going to drown myself in the lake!" Thomas stormed out. There was silence for a moment, before Bill clapped her hands together.
"What a drama queen. Anyone up for some telly?"

Alison had gone down to the lake - Pat had filled her in, and it had been 5 hours since the incident. She sat at the edge of the bank, suppressing a snort at the sight of Thomas' head sticking out of the water. She stayed there, wondering how long it would take before Thomas noticed her.

She was about to cough gently when Thomas suddenly bolted out of the river, screaming,
"WHAT KIND OF SORCERY IS THIS???" Alison scoffed - he'd probably just seen a fish or something - and looked up, only to come face to face with a man, late 20s, rising from the water. He was clad in gleaming armour, as well as a sword. The latter was pointed at her chest, and she raised her gaze to look the man in the eyes.

"Pwy dych chi?" The man asked her, to which she raised an eyebrow.
"English, please." The man opened his mouth again, but before he could say anything a loud clamour averted his attention, and Alison manoeuvred so the sword was no longer pointing at her.

The whole household, including all the guests and Mike, were running towards the lake. Thomas was with them - he had clearly ran back to the house while Alison was distracted.

Merlin froze in his tracks. This couldn't be happening. It was in his head. It was...

"Merlin?"

He looked down at his hands, no longer wrinkled and bony, but youthful and smooth. He tentatively reached a hand up to his hair, which was now short and black, he evaluated. Looking back at the man from the lake, he couldn't hold it in anymore.

He ran towards the figure, almost knocking him over.
"Woah there, Merlin, don't knock me out already." The man laughed.
"Arthur," Merlin breathed, not loosening his grip. Arthur dropped his sword on the floor and slowly brought his arms around his manservant.
"How long was I gone?" He whispered.
"1,500 years."
"WHAT???" Arthur leaned back, looking Merlin in the eye for any trace of a bluff. There was none. He brought the smaller man back to his chest.
"I'm so sorry."

A cough alerted them to a presence behind them. They pulled apart, to come face to face with the residents of Button House. Alison stepped forwards, as the spokesperson.
"Okay, so we have questions. One: how did you become young, Merlin? Two, and I think I know the answer to this one: who is this? And three: can you stop speaking Welsh?" Merlin laughed and snapped his fingers, sorting the third question out in an instant.

"Everyone, this is Arthur, King of Camelot. And my youthful looks were restored by my magic." He winked before laughing.

The reactions were... varied. Aziraphale and Crowley seemed to just nod along, as if this was all normal. Alison heard an exasperated 'finally' from the Doctor and Bill was grinning almost manically. Most of the ghosts were standing, mouths wide open in shock. Kitty seemed like she was going to burst with excitement.

However, the most interesting one to Alison was Mike, who simply whispered in her ear,

"This year cannot get any weirder."

Chapter Text

March blurred into April, and Button House was coping - not perfectly, but coping.

For the Doctor, most of his time was spent with the Tardis, trying to coax her into working. She was adamant to stand her ground, however, and it often ended with him thumping something (not his time machine though: he wouldn't want to anger her more).

For Bill, her time was split between Kitty and Mary, continuing her essays for the Doctor, and chatting to Mike. He and Alison had continued with the renovation, and Bill often popped out to B&Q to get supplies. Mike drove the car but didn't feel comfortable actually going into the shop. She had taken to wearing a face mask, as it seemed a good idea and it may even help stop the spread. At worst, it was just a piece of fabric over her mouth and nose. At best, it could save someone's life.

This time, she had gone to collect some paint and brushes. As she was waiting for the assistant to bring out her order, her mind wandered to what she would do after the Doctor got the Tardis working. There was no way she would want to live through the pandemic again. But she was technically still in 2017...

She looked up as a young woman, around her age, handed her the pots of paint. She looked vaguely familiar. Bill looked at her for a moment, trying to not come across as creepy, before she gasped quietly behind her mask.

"Everything okay?" The woman asked. Bill nodded, picking up the paint and brushes before turning round and quickly exiting the shop. Opening the boot of Mike's car, she dumped the pots in the car before taking off her face mask and thumping into the passenger seat.

"You look, dunno, like you had an epiphany or something." Mike commented as he looked at the road ahead of him. Bill just nodded, rubbing hand sanitiser into her palms.
"I just... saw someone I haven't seen for a long time."
"Mmm." Mike hummed noncommitedly, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

As they reached Button House and parked, Bill turned to face Mike.
"Right, so you know how me and the Doctor are time travellers?" She asked him tentatively.
"Yeeeesssss..." Mike responded.
"Well, I might have just seen one of my uni mates working in B&Q. Except I knew her in 2017. So she's older now." Bill explained. Mike formed an 'oh' with his mouth. They sat there in awkward silence for a moment, before Bill opened the car door and stepped out.

"Being a time traveller's weird," she muttered to herself.

For Crowley, the whole there's-a-pandemic-so-you're-stuck-with-the-angel-you're-in-love-with fiasco hadn't been exactly what he had planned when they had set off to the South Downs 3 weeks previously. The sharing a room thing hadn't gone as badly as he had thought, and he often woke up to the angel running his fingers through his hair, which was an improvement.

The situation hadn't helped him clamp a lid on his feelings, however. Which was preposterous in the first place, after all, who had heard of a demon with feelings? Let alone feelings for his, as Aziraphale liked to put it, 'hereditary enemy'?

He knew that Bill could tell what was going on. Her fanfiction reference was a giveaway on day one. And no, Crowley didn't invent fanfiction, though he did tend to visit AO3 from time to time.

He also knew that the Doctor knew. He had got very drunk one night in 1967, called him to take him home, and proceeded to tell him everything. The Doctor had sworn to secrecy, and Crowley trusted him enough to know that he wouldn't break that promise.

At this very moment, he was watching Aziraphale potter around the extensive library from his position on the chaise longue. Sunlight was pouring through the huge bay window, illuminating him. His hair glistened gold, and Crowley thought he looked... well, he would say ethereal, except he knew what that looked like and it didn't hold a candle to his angel.

"...Crowley?" He drew himself out of his musings to look Aziraphale in the eye, the latter clearly having asked him a question.
"Mmm? Sorry, angel, zoned out for a sec."
"I was asking whether I had something on my face. You were staring, dear." Crowley looked away and blushed, ashamed at being caught. He was getting sloppy, he had managed 6000 years without Aziraphale noticing.
"No, nothing." Crowley mumbled in response. He thought that would be the end of it.

Clearly the angel didn't feel the same way, as Aziraphale tapped his legs before sitting in the space Crowley had made.
"Dear, I was wondering if I could ask you something."
"Course, angel. Anything."
"Well, the thing is..." Aziraphale wrung his hands together, twisting the ring on his finger. He took a deep breath before continuing.
"You always seem to be staring at me. It's not a recent occurrence. Throughout the years, you've always been looking at me. Like you were studying me. Why? Is it because I'm... well, overweight?"

Crowley sat up straight, a rare event. He had started panicking at the beginning of Aziraphale's ramble, but by this point he was only focused on one word.
"Angel, who told you that?" He asked seriously.
"Well, Gabriel, but..."
"The bastard." Crowley snarled, standing up and pacing the room.
"It was nothing, he just told me to lose the gut, which is fair..."

Crowley stalked over to the angel, pulling him up by the lapels so they were face to face.
"Don't ever believe a word that comes out of the filthy bugger's mouth." He growled, his face millimetres from Aziraphale's. He had discarded his sunglasses earlier that hour, and so now he was holding eye contact with the angel, with no barriers.

They stayed in that precarious position for what seemed like eternity, Crowley hands curled into Aziraphale's coat, noses touching, breathing into each other's space. Crowley flitted his gaze across the angel's face, taking in the way his face curved, his hair falling neatly across his forehead. He thought he was the most beautiful being he had ever seen.

Aziraphale's eyes widened, and Crowley realised his thoughts hadn't stayed in his head.

He immediately let go of Aziraphale's lapels, realising their proximity, and moved away, running his hands through his hair, pacing.
"Shit, angel, I'm so sorry, I just... fuck, why did I say that, I've ruined everything, shit shit shit..." Crowley muttered. Aziraphale approached him slowly, tentatively placing a hand on Crowley's shoulder. The latter stilled, looking up at the angel in front of him.

"I'm very flattered, dear." Aziraphale smiled, and pressed a kiss to Crowley's forehead, before leaving the room, blushing. Crowley stayed rooted to the spot, mind running a mile a minute.

Well, that was going to complicate things.

For Merlin, his time had been solely focused on helping Arthur settle into modern day life. He had used his magic to help him speak modern English instead of old Welsh, and had tried his best to briefly explain the history of the last 1,500 years.

At this moment, Arthur was making his way through a book about Tudor society, with Humphrey interjecting at various points. The former king was wearing a red rugby shirt and blue jeans that Merlin had summoned from his flat. He was holding a mug of tea in one hand (Merlin had opened his eyes to the joy of warm beverages), and the book in the other. Merlin himself was entertaining himself with making a flower crown for Mary. She couldn't wear it, being a ghost, but she had told Merlin about her wedding the day before, and Merlin decided to make her one similar to the one she wore 400 years ago.

"Merlin, stop being such a girl." Arthur remarked, looking up from his book. Merlin simply tutted.
"Sexist, Arthur. And I like making flower crowns, no matter what your opinion on them is."
"Whatever, but roses? Really?" Arthur pointed to the table, where Merlin had created a plethora of roses, of all colours. Merlin raised an eyebrow - he still hadn't mastered it like Gaius, but a millennium and a half had given him some crucial practice time.
"Didn't know you were into flowers, mate." Arthur flushed and looked back down at his book.
"Shut up, Merlin."
Merlin chuckled and turned back to the task at hand. He assumed that Arthur was blushing for being associated with flowers.

However, try as he might, Arthur could not move past Merlin calling him his mate. He knew it wasn't an endearment, simply a modern term used for acquaintances. But when Merlin said it? It sounded, well, it was probably wishful thinking on Arthur's part, but it sounded like Merlin meant more than it seemed at face value.

No, it was definitely just him over thinking things.

Right?

Chapter Text

Time both dragged on and flew by. Days no longer seemed to exist - there was no separation from one to the next. It was simply time. A big block of time, with the odd period of unconsciousness in between. It was unusual, but they dealt with it. Alison had a lot more respect and sympathy for the ghosts, experiencing a taste of their life - well, death.

Before they knew it, June had arrived. Things were starting to look a little better, despite the government being an absolute shambles. Mike had met up with Obi in their local park, Alison had bought some purple hair dye from Superdrug which she shared with Bill.

The former had put on the current Mock the Week, rolling her eyes at some of the ghosts' reactions.

('That’s treason!'
'They're not the Queen, Kitty.'
'Oh sod the kids. Who cares if they're hungry?'
'Did I ever say that I fucking despise you, Julian?'
'Once or twice, Bill.')

A loud yell alerted Alison to the presence of people on their front lawn.
"It's Richard the third! He's here!"
"Hate to disappoint, Kitty, but that isn't possible."
"Well, technically it is but since our time machine isn't working I doubt it."

Alison peered out of the window. Two men, one around six foot and the other considerably shorter, were standing on the lawn, having a shouting match. Alison strained to hear the words.

"...bloody idiot... where are we... standing in the middle of a field..."
"...not my fault... you wanted to come..."

The shorter one seemed to have lost it, turning away sharply and taking a few paces, breathing in deeply to try and calm down. Alison bolted down the stairs, wondering if she would be having two more guests at Button House for a while.

"Excuse me? Everything okay?" She asked from the doorway. The two men froze, and turned in unison to face her.

"Yes, of course." The taller man frowned at her, before turning back to the shorter one. Alison vaguely recognised him, but was struggling to place their faces.
"Sherlock, don't be rude."

"Sherlock? Like, 'Sherlock Holmes' Sherlock?"
"The one and only," the other man rolled his eyes. "John Watson, nice to meet you. I would shake hands but..." he waved his hands around in the air.
"Fair enough," Alison smiled slightly. The Captain had appeared behind her, and she let him. He wasn't doing any harm, and he doubted the others could see him.

"May I ask what has brought you to Button House, amidst a pandemic?" She raised an eyebrow.
"Well, this lunatic here got bored. Solved loads of cold cases, not much crime going on when nobody's going anywhere. So he decided to open up some old unsolved cases. Which brought us here."

Alison frowned. She read the news from time to time, she knew that the hat guy only dealt with murders. So the question was, which ghost was he investigating?

"Okay, let me guess." Alison made as if to continue, but before she could say anything Sherlock opened his mouth.

"You have a husband, married... 3 years? Give or take. You're looking after many people, from the energy levels they'd be kids but nothing else matches up, so no children. Difficult adults then. Two middle-aged men, one older... Scottish? And a young woman. But no... that isn't enough to cause that amount of stress and tension. Oh, a younger couple too, yes, but there's something else... I'd say at least 6 others, but there's no physical evidence to support it. A mystery, I like a mystery."

Alison was surprised, but not shocked. Not much could catch her off guard anymore.

"Sherlock," the other man hissed.
"Not good, John?" Sherlock asked quietly.
"A bit not good, yeah."

"Oh it's fine, don't worry. Anyway, back to the cold case stuff. Have you come about the Edwardian lady?"

At this, Sherlock raised his eyebrows in... well, not admiration, but a hint of approval.
"Well deduced. Care to explain?" Alison laughed.

"Now, you're gonna think I'm nuts, but I've been to a doctor, done everything asked of me, so you've gotta trust me on this.

"I can see ghosts. There's 9 that live here. Oh, and a plague pit. One of them's a caveman, I highly doubt you'd be investigating him.

"One was beheaded, one burned as a witch. Nothing unusual there. Not sure how the next one died, could be her, but a bit old so I doubt that's it. One died in a duel. Most recent died in a sex scandal, next recent was shot in the neck with an arrow. Both accidents, but nothing fishy. That leaves the army Captain, which is possible, but I know that the Edwardian lady was murdered, but the case was never solved. So, simple conclusion really."

The two men stood in shock. John started to nod, after all, he was subject to this every day. Sherlock, however, took a bit longer to wrap his head around it.
"See, told you ghosts were real," John elbowed Sherlock lightly in the ribs.

"Okay. Okay." Sherlock started pacing across the grass, fingers steepled under his chin. "So, first question, the most obvious really. If ghosts exist, why can we not see them?"

"Gotta have died to see them. I was in an induced coma, but managed to survive. There's one right here." Alison jerked her thumb towards the Captain, who was standing next to her by this point.

"Who are these intruders?" He asked.
"Consulting detective and his boyfriend. When the police get stuck they go to these two."

John spluttered. Exasperated, he replied,
"Despite what the whole world thinks, I'm not actually gay."

"Yeah, and I'm the Queen of Spain." Bill squished past the human and ghost in the doorway.
"Bill Potts, nice to meet ya. And we've already got three gay pining scenarios going on in here, so could you just sort your shit out now to save us the faff?" Alison snorted, and the Captain pulled a face.

"Ignore him, he's my... thing. You said you know what happened to Lady Button?" Sherlock waved a hand towards John, who swatted it away.

"Right, yep, I can tell you that. She caught her husband having a threesome with the groundsman and the butler. She was horrified, as you could imagine. Anyway, her husband realised she knew, and didn't think she would keep the secret, so pushed her out of the window so her secret died with her. Which it hasn't, clearly. You've only got my word for it, not very sciency, I know, but it's what happened."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, deducing her. She stood there calmly and let him do it.

After a moment, he nodded.
"Alright, either you're working for the secret service, which I doubt, or you're telling the truth. One more question then - if these ghosts truly exist, which I am still skeptical about, why do they not affect our everyday lives?"

"Oh, they can't touch anything. The odd one has weird talents, one of ours can tamper with the lights, another can move really light stuff with one finger. Small stuff like that. And if you suddenly get a chill run through your body for no apparent reason, you've probably walked through one."

"Right..." John tried to approach her, before catching himself and moving away again.
"Damn this pandemic," he mumbled.
"Ain't that the truth." Bill sighed. "You look like a doctor, know anything us civilians don't?"

"Not from my job, no. We're not kept in the loop at all." John shook his head. "This guy's brother, however, basically is the British government. There's plan for a vaccine eventually, but this won't be over soon. Most kids won't be back at school until September."

"Did I hear he's the goverment? Can he get his arse into gear then?" Mike yelled from the corridor.

"Yes, well, he's trying." Sherlock replied, before adding under his breath, "finally met his match."

They chatted for a bit, all of the residents coming to say hello at different points. Alison warmed to John - living with a self proclaimed sociopath? Must be on par with her everyday life. She and him exchanged numbers (by yelling them at each other), before he checked the time.

"Crap, we better be heading back. My daughter needs dinner. Nice to meet you." John nodded, before dragging Sherlock by the arm to the gate, where a flash red sports car was parked.

"Well, that was a thing." Crowley commented, having been the last person to investigate the intruders.

"Yes, it was." Alison smiled, pulling the heavy wooden door shut.

Chapter Text

Hello all! I'd just like to say that I am NOT abandoning this work. It will be finished one day, but currently I'm struggling enough living through a pandemic without writing about one. When things are better I will come back and make sure all our couples get a happy ending :)

- H

EDIT (2023): So I wrote that 2 years ago huh. I'm going to be honest it is unlikely that I will ever finish this fic, pandemic vibes were NOT fun, and I'm not particularly willing to revisit them. However, I will of course leave the fic as it currently is up on ao3, so people can enjoy the chapters that I have written. Since I'm unlikely to add any more to this, I have marked it as complete. Apologies for not giving the story an ending.