lizbee | FIC: Other People's Holidays (Ten, original companion, PG-13ish)

Title: Other People's Holidays
Summary: "And if we're lucky, there might be a race riot!" An educational story in which the Doctor learns about Australia Day.
Rating: Mostly PG-13, except there's a lot of swearing.
Notes: Inspired by fics where Torchwood celebrates July 4, or the Doctor observes Thanksgiving. Only it turned out less cracksome than I'd anticipated.
Warnings: Racism in a contemporary context. Rather a lot of swearing. Multiple jokes at the expense of the English cricket team.

Other People's Holidays
by LizBee

"Surprise!"

Alice gave the Doctor a sidelong glance. Her surprised face looked remarkably lot like her suspicious face, as if she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Said other shoe being a muddy boot, or – knowing Alice – a pink stiletto with fluffy bits and rhinestones. Alice had very strong feelings about practical footwear.

She crossed her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows.

"Surprise?" the Doctor hazarded.

"Yes," she said patiently, "this is Sydney. It's where I come from. If your idea of a surprise is an eviction—"

"No!" he said quickly, "no, no, no." He steered her through the busy street to a newsagent's. "Look at the date," he said, pointing at the papers.

"January twenty-six."

"Happy Australia Day!"

Alice stared at him.

"Um, surprise?"

She massaged her temples and pinched the bridge of her nose, which meant she was either lost for words, or planning something that would be absolutely brilliant unless you happened to be an invading army of Cybermen, and who cared what invading armies of Cybermen thought anyway?

"Doctor," she said at last, "I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm black."

"Yup," he said cheerfully. "Got that. You went through it very carefully when we landed in Alabama."

"And I'm Australian."

"I could tell by the accent, and the way you sneered at Napoleon's wines that time."

"French vineyards are very overrated," she said automatically. "Wait, no, don't distract me!" She took him by the elbow, steered him to a nearby fountain and sat him down, standing over him with her hands on her hips. "Let me spell this out for you. I'm an Indigenous Australian. An Aborigine. A motherfucking Koori."

"Erm," said the Doctor, "people are beginning to stare."

"Doctor," said Alice, "I know you're, like, the whitest fake-English aristocrat who ever pretended to have a working class accent—"

"I have black friends," said the Doctor automatically. "Um, working class black friends." Mickey counted, right?

"—But even you must have some common sense. Australia Day. It marks the day the First Fleet landed, and the English claimed the continent for themselves."

"Oh. Right."

"And they said it was uninhabited. Because black people don't count, remember?"

"I thought we'd go to the cricket," said the Doctor, "and listen to music and have a barbecue."

"Doctor," said Alice, "I'm vegan. Remember?"

"Vegan barbecue?"

"You're hopeless."

"Right," said the Doctor, looking irritated – or maybe that was just the heat. "So what should we do? Educate me!"

"Aaaargh! I knew you'd say that!" Alice crossed her arms and paced a bit. A cluster of young men wandered past, wearing flags around their necks and Southern Cross tattoos on their bare chests. One of them saw Alice and nudged his mate, who cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "Fucken immigrants, go home!"

"Rack off," Alice snarled, "I've been here longer than you." The boys retreated – not because of Alice, or even the Doctor, who had taken a couple of steps forward while wondering if the Oncoming Storm routine worked on garden variety morons, but because a couple of burly Samoan men were approaching from the other direction. They fixed the boys with a hard stare until the little gang retreated, looking crestfallen.

"Right," said Alice, when everyone else was gone, "here's what we're gonna do."

The Doctor stood to attention and prepared to take orders.

"We're going to an Invasion Day protest, so you can get educated. Then we'll find ourselves a decent-looking vegan barbecue, and hang out and drink beer and listen to the Triple J Hottest 100. Or we could go to the Big Day Out, or we could watch England get slaughtered at the cricket. And if we're really lucky, there might be a race riot."

Guessing from the look in Alice's eyes, she was going to judge him forever based on his next words. The Doctor hesitated.

"What would you like to do?" he asked.

"Can I go back to 1788? Maybe with a sniper rifle?"

"No."

"How about I just chuck rocks at them until they go away?"

"No changing history."

"Then I guess the cricket will do."

She tucked her arm through the Doctor's and they set off in search of a protest. The air smelled faintly of sausages, and the sea.

"You know," said the Doctor, "there's a reasonable chance the English cricket team might be aliens."

"It would explain a lot," said Alice.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor said.

She squeezed his arm. "I'll let you buy me an iced coffee."

Which was probably the least he could do, but the most she'd accept. Anyway – he checked his watch – they only had a few hours before the English cricket team tried to take over the planet, and by this time tomorrow, there'd be a whole new reason to remember this date.

"Make it two coffees," he said. "You're going to need your strength."

"What?" Alice demanded, but he smiled, and didn't answer.