Adventures in Map-Reading
A Teletubbies/SPIT crossover fic by SkyFire

Rating: PG-13
Category: If you need to be told this is AU - you REALLY need help.
Pairing(s): Wess/Monshikka
Warnings: Here thar be teletubbies. The ones that weren't on TV.
Summary: Monshikka and Wesselik have a bit of a problem coming back from their honeymoon.
Notes: A x-over with SPIT by Magic Rat ([info]delaese). Absolute crack, spawned when I read 'The Teletubbies’ Final Deth-Fantasy of Valinor' by Magic Rat. I'm sorry, Rattie, I couldn't help it; you've spawned a monster! Nooooo! XP Apologies for the absolutely sucky title.

Wess and Monshikka belong to Magic Rat. I don't know who Teletubbies belong to, but I thank the heavens it isn't me! XP

“You've been holding the map upside-down again, haven't you? Honestly! You'd think that after this many lifetimes, you'd get it right!”

“It's not my fault that I'm a bit rusty, considering that I usually travel in the air.”

A harsh gust of exasperated breath. “A bit rusty, he says,” came the muttered reply. An elegant wave of a white-gloved hand. “Do you have any idea where we are?”

A long, drawn-out pause as the map was carefully examined; turned first one way, then the other. “...No?”

The two men - one dressed in simple, sensible clothing in muted colors, the other in a similar outfit in almost-blinding white – stood in the middle of what could only be called a Creepy Forest. What undergrowth there was seemed to be barely hanging on to life, twisted and stunted versions of what they were used to seeing. The trees themselves, though taller, were no less twisted and the cloaks of mosses hanging from misshapen branches did nothing to dispel the creepy atmosphere.

The white-gloved hand ran back through equally-white hair, mussed from many such combings. “Wess!” Monshikka growled under his breath. “Are you telling me we're lost?”

Another long, frowning glance at the map before admitting defeat, folding it up and stowing it neatly back in his pack. “...Yes?”

The albino barely managed to keep back an aggravated growl. Love the man though he did, sometimes he was just absolutely infuriating! Though he was at least partly to blame himself for not noticing earlier that they were off course. What could he say? He had good reason for being distracted! He and Wesselik were just heading back home after spending a month away on their honeymoon.

A small, private smile graced pale lips, even as the faintest, irrepressible blush colored elegant cheekbones. When he got back to the palace, his entire white-on-white wardrobe was getting replaced with colors a little more appropriate to his new status. Brilliant scarlet, perhaps? He had certainly proven himself worthy of the racy color during the last few weeks! A quiet chuckle as he imagined the looks on the faces of his friends when he showed up to breakfast in the new color. They had never seen him in anything but white... for that matter, neither had he. How would other colors look against his natural coloring?

He shook his head, refocused on the problem at hand. Right. Lost. He looked back to his new husband. “So now what?” a quick glance around. “The trees are too close for you to fly...”

A shrug. “Follow a path?”

Monshikka stared. A path? In the middle of the Creepy Woods? “And just where will we find this path?”

The dragonhawk nodded to one side. “There?”

Sure enough, there was a path. In the Creepy Woods. They got on it, picked a direction, and started walking. The edges of the path were lined with colorful poppies; a splash of vibrant blood-red against the drab grey-greens and wilted browns of the rest of the woods.

“Are those opium poppies?” the dragonhawk murmured beneath his breath as he followed Monshikka down the path. Then his attention was firmly grabbed and he walked, gaze locked on the firm globes of the Kiriannan's behind, displayed admirably by his tight-fitting leather breeches. He had seen it more over the last few weeks than in all his lives put together, and yet it still had the power to captivate him. Then it stopped moving, and he blinked, looking up in a daze. “Why did you stop?”

“I thought we might be able to ask directions.”

A clearing spread out before them, the end of the convenient path at their feet. In the clearing was a house. Well, it might have been a house at one time. It was so run-down that the best it could be called, if one were being very generous, was 'shack'. And even that was pushing it. Two of its walls were piles of broken wreckage lying on the ground, more opium poppies crushed beneath them like blood. The shack's rickety door was half-sunk into an ancient tree across the clearing from the building, the gash still oozing sap. Recent.

Wess took in the sight of the destruction that littered the clearing, then turned to his mate. “What makes you think that anyone actually lives here?”

A nod to the shack's lone chimney, which looked like the faintest breeze would send it tumbling down. “Wood-smoke from the chimney.”

“Ah.”

The two men strode across the clearing and up to the house. Looking in through one of the wall-less sides, they saw two odd beings busy straightening up the inside of the house. One was mopping up a puddle on the floor, and the other was busy gathering bits of leather harness that had been scattered all over the room; both wore yet more leather. They had strange horns on their heads; one in the shape of a spoon, the other in the shape of a-

Monshikka blushed.

The strange beings continued their work, oblivious to the presence of their visitors.

Both men relaxed with a quiet sigh of relief as they noted the lack of weaponry in the house. Strange though the beings might seem, they couldn't be all that bad if they had no weapons, and wore what they assumed were variations of leathers similar to Arrowsmith's. They climbed up the wreckage that was once a wall and into the house.

“Excuse me?” Monshikka called. “We were hoping you could help us-”

Both beings jumped up with nearly identical panicked squeals before clinging to one another. “No!”

The albino blinked. “Pardon?”

“No!” The odd creatures yelled again. “Go away! We're not making any more friends! We don't need any more friends! Go away!”

Wesselik, thinking that perhaps the sight of his eerily-white mate in the Creepy Woods had been mistaken for some sort of undead creature, spoke up. “If you would just give us a moment,” he said, stepping smoothly between the creatures and the Kiriannan, “we're lost and-”

“No!” yelled the one with the spoon-horn on its head, a fresh puddle forming at its feet, red-rimmed eyes wide.

“No!” yelled the other one, the phallic horn on its head seeming to wilt in fear.

Another tiny step forward by the dragonhawk. Surely now he was blocking sight of Monshikka! “We just want direct-”

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” screamed the two odd creatures. Scrambling backwards, tripping over themselves and stray bits of leather gear, they tumbled back out of the house via the other missing wall, then vanished into the woods, the sound of their terrified shriek quickly fading into the distance.

Wess stared after them in bemusement. He looked back over his shoulder at an equally baffled Monshikka. “Was it something I said?”

An elegant shrug. “Sounded good to me,” came the reply. A sigh. “Come on, let's get on that path again. Maybe the other way leads out of this forest.”

“Agreed. I don't want to stay here any longer than I have to. There's just something about this place...”

They left the house via the missing door, then walked back across the clearing to the path.

As they started back down the path, Monshikka took one last look back at the clearing. “Hmm,” he said. At Wess' questioning look, he continued. “All that leather... but where were the motorcycles?”