/This is an AU of three Tumblr RP characters inspired by a GIFset I created. Custiel is technically the Eleventh Doctor (goodmenhavenorules), Tenth is the Tenth Doctor(the-tenth-will-see-you-now), and Michelle is a DW OC (from-human-to-timelord).

The smell of summer was still lingering in the air, although it was fading quickly. Which was always a sad sort of happening for children. It meant the end of freedom and the beginning of education. Prison, more like. It may as well have been. And for Custiel Lungbarrow, he couldn't be more bummed about the beginning of Year 3. Despite his mother's best encouragements (not so much from his father, of course; he was far too busy cheering on his more beloved son Tenth), he just couldn't see much excitement in leaving summer behind for more uniforms, learning, and classmates that probably wouldn't even bother to say a single word to him. He supposed it was better than being teased, at the very least.

"Do ya have an extra pencil I could borrow? I kinda broke mine."

Custiel's attention was quickly caught away from the paper he'd been diligently doodling on (it was a, in his opinion, beautifully done triceratops. Aptly named Tricey) and up to the blonde headed girl siding up to him. Her brightly blue orbs eyed him expectantly, and Custiel stumbled a bit to repeat the question to himself in his head.

"Me?" asked the boy with the green eyes, lopsided hair, and quite square face. Custiel wasn't the best at conversing.

The girl giggled, "Yea, you, silly! I need a pencil. See mine?" She paused lifting up her pencil that had broken in half somehow. "Broken. Do ya not have an extra?"

Custiel simply looked to the pencil in his hand, blinking a few times. This was the only pencil he had. Yet he didn't know if he wanted to say no. Almost like he was afraid to disappoint this girl. But before he could speak again, she exclaimed, "What is that supposed to be?"

She must have mistaken his moment of indecision over her question and the only pencil he had left, for him turning his attention back to his drawing. Well, for the angle she was at, leaning across from her own desk, just inches away from his left shoulder , it probably did look like he was examining his drawing instead of contemplating her request.

There was a simple stutter of, "Um," before he looked back to her, the slightly shy boy explaining, "it's a triceratops."

He received a look of confusion. He tried again. "It's a dinosaur, one of my favorites."

Face lighting up, her wavy shoulder-length hair bouncing as she gave a small giggle, "But it doesn't look anythin' like a dinosaur! It looks like a… Like a blob."

Well, that was a bit of a stab to his artistic vision. He supposed she was right. He never was very artful. Not that it matter much, he still found it fun and it passed the time.

"My name's Michelle," she greeted quite cheerfully, that smile never wavering. "What's your name?"

He supposed the talk of his terrible triceratops drawing had steered the conversation away from her need to borrow a pencil. Which he could find himself totally okay with.

"Hi Michelle," he was growing a bit more confident, even trying to smile back. Someone had talked to him. "I'm Custiel."

"Custi- Casi- Ca-" she tried again and again, attempting to repeat his name. Michelle's face scrunched up into frustration, obviously a bit upset she couldn't say his name. "Cussy… What was it again?"

Custiel pursed his lips slightly before repeating, "Custiel. It's Custiel. It isn't that hard."

"It is too! So I'm gonna call you Custy instead, okay?"

Michelle beamed at her 'accomplishment' of coming up with the nickname on the spot. Custy? What kind of name was that? Then again, what kind of name was Custiel to begin with?

"Custy?" Custiel questioned, not used to the name. It kind of sounded the same though, didn't it? He'd just never had a nickname before.

Michelle gave a curt nod, "Custy! You look more like a Custy. And if we're gonna be friends, you need an easier name. So Custy, I still need a pencil to borrow."

Wuthering Heights, suddenly interrupted by OneRepublic. Not a bad combination, thought Custiel, but one he didn't exactly expect. It was a slow day at Mile Recruitments and what else was a 24-year-old bloke with no work left to do other than perhaps read to pass the time? Well, he could leave. His boss, CEO Ida Lorrie (bit of a snob, rude, and liked her coffee black. "Emphasis on that, Lungbarrow, BLACK.") had actually done a great service and allowed him to leave whenever he wanted because it had been such a slow day. Which was surprising in two aspects: it was a Monday and it was Ida. Both were just being generous, he supposed. But without any plans other than go back to his flat, maybe make tea, and possibly watch some telly, he found being here just in case things picked up better than going back to his flat, making tea, and watching some telly only to get called back into work anyway. So here he was, reading.

He'd had the same ringtone on his mobile for a few months now (Secrets was one of his favorite songs, after all). It was starting to get stale, but the name that appeared on the ID certainly wasn't stale. To say it was a surprise who was ringing would be an understatement. Older brother, Tenth, was on the other end of the dial tone. They hadn't spoken in years and suddenly a call? Last Custiel had heard from him was when he was heading off to medical school and there were some words such as, "Dad told me to tell you I've got more of a chance to end up with the best son award. Harsh, but where I'm going, it's not uncalled for, right?"

So he was reluctant to pick it up. But he did it anyway. Besides, it'd been nearly four years. Let bygones be bygones.

"Hullo?" Custiel answered, trying to make his voice sound as neutral as possible.

The greeting was nearly muffled by the background noise of other voices, "Custiel! Hey, it's me. Tenth."

"Oh!" Was he supposed to act surprised like he didn't have caller ID? "Hey, mate, how's it going?"

There was a strange uplift in Tenth's voice then, "Brilliant! Really brilliant. Listen, I've got a bit of free time today, do you feel like dropping by the Morgan Arms? Catching up a bit?"

Well, that was certainly unexpected. Now came the dilemma of whether to actually go or not. What would catching up entail? Would it be more of the same shit that's plagued their relationship from the very day Custiel was born? Probably. But that was just a slight probably. He had to consider they were more adult now, more grown up. Much more proper without their father's influence getting in the way constantly. Even if Tenth did still talk to the old man, perhaps they'd had a falling out or something. Anyway, he was still his brother.

Tossing away Wuthering Heights into a desk drawer, not bothering to bookmark it as he'd read it several times already anyway, Custiel gave in, "Uhh, yeah, sure. Sounds great." Not really, but he was trying. "What time?"

There was a moment of pause before the answer, now unclouded from the previous background voices, "Can you make it in ten? I'm heading there now."

"Yeah, I'm a short walk away." Seems like this day was working in mysterious ways. A slow business day and his brother calling to suddenly 'catch up'? If he were anymore superstitious, he'd be breaking out the crucifixes and holy water. "I'll see you there."

"Right. See you."

Click.

Tenth hung up before he could even bring the mobile away from his ear. This was either going to go really well or really bad. For better or for worse, Custiel started to gather his belongings into his shoulder bag, notified Ida he was heading out, and, after reminding her of her appointments and having his meeting at the Morgan Arms pressured out of him by her nosey questions, he clocked out. Next stop, the Morgan Arms to 'catch up', whatever that was going to mean.

Custiel wasn't much of a drinker, barely even a social one, but here he was, nearly done with his first pint. As he stared at the golden liquid, his mind was taken into a deep place of thought. He'd been sat in this place for 30 minutes, no sight of Tenth. He was beginning to think that maybe the spiky-haired idiot had set him up and wasn't going to come at all. It wasn't completely beyond him to play pranks like this. In fact, any time he did, their dad would just laugh along with him. Oh, Tenth, the firstborn, amazing, talented, smart, and all around better accepted son. Their dad had no qualms about showing he played favorites, and Tenth was his. Tenth wanted to enroll into the science club? Daddy was there waving a flag with his face plastered on it. Custiel wanted to enroll into the book club? "Son, why can't you be more like your brother?" Then it only got worse when he was blamed for a fire that took their mother's life.

Custiel's lips pressed together before he took a long, deep swig of the remaining alcohol, swallowing it with a grimace. Why was he here again?

Goddammit, why am I here?

Giving up, he nearly slammed his empty glass onto the table, fed up, tired of waiting. He'd waited long enough. But just as he was reaching for his bag, his eyes were caught on a sight he thought he'd seen the last of. Even though he'd loosened his tie somewhere along his journey from the office to the pub, it suddenly felt very constricting. He thought he might choke. He thought he might fall onto the floor in a fit of asphyxiation from a stupid, cheap brown tie. He didn't even like this tie.

All he had to do was breathe. The tie wasn't choking him. But the familiar blonde approaching him wasn't allowing breathing very well. However, his expression was clearly not bothered by the lack of air, as his thin eyebrows rose, his eyes blinked several times, and his lips parted ever so slightly.

"Custiel! There ya are!" said the blonde woman with a gleeful smile. She was dressed in a short-sleeved V-neck shirt, white, which nicely complimented the darkly off-blue skirt that flowed just above her knees. It brought a comparison within his mind, a much younger, more petite girl beside her. She sometimes wore her hair up in pigtails, as young girls usually would. Her uniform was blue to match his. And she was leaning over to the shy boy in class drawing a terrible rendition of a triceratops asking for a spare pencil he didn't have.

"Michelle," Custiel breathed, obviously surprised by this sudden visit. His tie definitely wasn't strangling him. He was okay… Or maybe not. He must've looked absolutely stunned. Not only because, well… She was quite frankly gorgeous, but because he hadn't seen her since he was 10 and she 9. She'd unfortunately moved to Texas in America. Time had certainly been good to her and he could feel a smile slowly pulling at his lips.

"Oh good, ya are Custiel," she said as she approached the small table he was still sitting at. She leaned forward very slightly, her voice playfully discreet, "Ya don't know how embarrassin' it would've been if ya were someone else."

Michelle's light laugh was like a trip into the past. Many hours spent drawing together, trying to perfect his dinosaur drawing skills (Michelle was incredibly talented in art), playing together on playgrounds, and spending most days inseparable for 3 solid years. He couldn't stop the natural laugh as he imagined her going to every table in the pub until she found him. But that brought up the question…

"Ahh, what're you doing here?" he asked, realizing too late that it could've come off wrong. "I mean, it-it's good to see you! I mean, it's great to see you, but… How did you find me?"

Well that was smooth. Her smile didn't diminish.

"Well, I'm here in London for an internship for six months. Graphic design kinda stuff. And I'm here," she motioned around her, to the pub itself, "to see ya. I dropped by the office ya work at, but your boss told me ya came here. Sooo…" She gave him another of her wonderful smiles. "Here I am."

Racking up the number of unexpected things to happen today, perhaps it would've been a good idea to start getting superstitious. And Ida's nosiness for once doing more good than harm was just the icing on top. He'd all but forgotten his original reason for being at this pub. And maybe that was a good thing.

Noticing that she was still standing, he motioned to the seat across from him, "You can, ah… Sit, if y'like."

Michelle took his offer gratefully, placing her own bag on the ground next to her seat. Settling herself into the seat, Custiel asked, "How'd you know where I work?"

And it was a legitimate question. They hadn't kept in contact with one another after she moved. It was too difficult to do so. And living in a time without the type of instant communication there was now, the charges for international calling were just out of the question.

"You remember Rory, yea?"

Custiel nodded. Rory was a mutual friend they'd had in their classes. Custiel and him had a bit of a falling out somewhere around high school (something about his girlfriend Amy coming onto Custiel and Rory calling off their friendship because of that; it was stupid, they were stupid teenagers, but the fact remained they fell out once), but they still talked every now and then. Enough that Custiel had probably slipped the info of where he was currently working and had been working for a couple years now. More than likely he slipped how much he hated his job and how much of a bitch Ida was. Had Rory and Michelle kept contact?

"Well, I asked him if he knew where to find ya, where ya worked, that sort of thing. Since I was in town, I thought I'd come and see ya." She gave a small shrug as he folded her arms into her lap, another smile lighting up her features like a warm glow. "And here we-"

"Sorry I'm late, had a bit of a run in with... Oh, hello."

Well, this couldn't get any more awkward. That's right, Custiel had come here to catch up with beloved brother Tenth. And he was late. Very late. Nearly an hour late. So here he was, stumbling in on Michelle and his conversation. He looked quite done up, as usual. Tousled and gelled hair with thick sideburns – gotta make the ladies and men swoon from the new age 'look at me, I just rolled out of bed, aren't I cute?' look – in combination with a tight pinstriped suit to outline his stick-thin figure and a face that oddly looked nothing like Custiel's. Were they even related again? Oh right, apparently they both got their mother's ears.

Michelle looked up to the man suddenly intruding on their conversation, a look of confusion but not repulsion on her face. Custiel cleared his throat, "Ah, Michelle! This is my, ah… Brother. Tenth. I was originally meeting him here and he's late."

"Like I was saying," Tenth emphasized again. "There was a bit of a run in with a late patient. Nice to meet you, Michelle," he offered his hand for a shake which she happily took and gave a shake. "Friend of Custiel's?"

There was also the fact that, tying in not only his good looks, his charisma, and his outgoing nature, he was a doctor to boot. He looked much the same as ever.

"Yea, we go way back," Michelle confirmed with a pleasant nod, not seeming to be at all inconvenienced by this meeting. In fact, she smiled more, "Tenth? Is that really your name?"

Tenth shined a smile her way as he reached over and grabbed a chair from a nearby table, sliding it up and settling himself to Custiel's left, Michelle's right. He chuckled, "No, no, not really. Just an old nickname. My name's John, but I prefer Tenth."

Dad's doing, of course, Custiel sarcastically thought to himself.

Michelle responded, "Hey, that reminds me! Custiel, remember when we first met, I couldn't pronounce your name, so I nicknamed ya Custy?"

That got a laugh out of Tenth, "Custy?! You never told me that one before."

"Yeah, see, there's the reason, right there" Custiel retorted, suddenly wishing he hadn't completely downed his pint just yet. Maybe he should order another. This day was going everywhere at once and he didn't know what to expect next.

Tenth raised his left eyebrow, another laugh coming out, "What?! What're you talking about?"

Custiel shot a glance his brother's way, something saying 'I'm done with your shit already'. Tenth knew that look, so he just moved on.

"Custy, blimey, that's a good one, Michelle. Custiel is a mouthful anyway, isn't it?"

Michelle giggled along, "I think it's a great name. Custiel, I mean. I just had trouble pronouncin' it. I was young, don't judge."

At least she didn't mention the triceratops. There were some things that should just be left in the darkness of childhood. It wasn't like he minded the nickname. In fact, it grew on him. She'd always call him that name. A couple years into their friendship, she began trying to call him Custiel, but Custy always somehow stuck anyway. He certainly didn't judge.

And neither did Tenth, apparently. There was an awkward silence that suddenly passed between the three, the initial hellos said and done, there was room for practically any topic to come up next. The general ones, of course. Yet nothing came. All that surrounded them were the sounds of the other customers, some clinking glasses, and the distant telly that was playing a game of football. Probably. Custiel so wished that he could get back to catching up with Michelle instead of Tenth. Even if that was the original intent.

Michelle was the first to break the silence as she looked up to the clock situated somewhere above the bar. "Oh!" Her eyebrows rose very slightly and she reached down to grab her bag. The sudden movements caught both of the brothers' attention, and Michelle began to dig through her bag.

"I'm sorry, I really am, but I've got to go," she explained quickly, finally producing a pen and paper. She quickly scribbled something on it and handed it over to Custiel. "That's my number. Call me when ya get the chance and we can catch up some more. Maybe hang out."

Taking the piece of paper, Custiel gave her a warm smile, grateful for both the promise of seeing her again and the break in the awkward silence. "You got it, Michelle," Custiel said with a nod as he pocketed the number.

She slid off her chair, giving a small wave as she began to walk off, "See ya later, Custiel! And it was nice to meet ya, Tenth."

"Brilliant to meet you, Michelle," Tenth confirmed with a smile and wave her way.

Custiel joined with the waves and goodbyes, but she'd turned away just as he said goodbye, not sure if she heard him or not before she was out the door. He bit his lower lip very slightly, his arm coming back to rest on the table next to his empty glass. Now to deal with a whole new awkwardness.

Tenth was quick to switch seats, now coming to sit across from Custiel. He waved over to the bartender, "Two more pints of whatever he had."

"So, almost four years," Custiel began, not even bothering to object to Tenth ordering him another drink. He felt like he needed it. "How, ah… How've you been?"

"Good!" He responded, almost cheerfully. "Good, I've been absolutely great, even. But I've got to ask, where'd you meet her?"

Custiel rubbed his hand over his forehead, dragging it down the side of his face, "Start of Junior. Year 3."

"And you never mentioned her to me?" He even looked a bit wounded at that.

"Four years, John," Custiel reemphasized, knowing how he didn't like to be called by his actual name. Payback for laughing at Custy? Maybe. "It's been four years since you said a word to me."

"Oh, come on," he reached over, nudging Custiel's arm a bit just as someone set the ordered drinks on the table. "What was stopping you from calling me?"

"Ahhh, right! 'Course, you're right, I mean your complete and total allure should've been enough to drag me right into that call with you," came the sarcastic response as he reached for the new pint, taking a small swig. "Maybe if you'd paid attention when we were kids, you'd have seen her 'round."

Tenth took a small sip from his glass, pulling it away to say with confusion, "I never remember her around."

"Yeah, well, she was," he countered, setting his pint down. This was already turning out great. "Look, I don't think the definition of 'catching up' involves talking about my friend." Was he being possessive? Alright, maybe a little.

"Alright, alright. Touchy," Tenth commented as he took another sip.

Custiel gave a sigh, "How's dad?" Not that he really wanted to know, but hey, they were catching up.

"He's fine. Apparently getting into stocks now," Tenth nodded, seeming to be a bit unphased by this new activity of his. It wasn't surprising, though. That man was always trying to do any kind of 'get rich quick' schemes he could.

Custiel gave an almost mirthless chuckle, "Sounds like dad."

The conversation then carried to parts that Custiel was only somewhat involved in. Mainly he listened to Tenth go on about stories of bizarre patients, how he saved a lot of people daily, and that it made him feel fulfilled. Good for him, Custiel supposed. Somehow Custiel delved into the job at Mile Recruitments, how he had to practically wait hand and foot on Ida, and that he found his life a bit routine, but it was alright. Tenth seemed to have some genuine happiness that his little brother was doing okay, but Custiel had to wonder if it was because Tenth knew he was doing better than him, as usual, or if he was honestly happy for his well being. He found the former more likely.

Then, somewhere along the lines, Custiel found himself distracted with Michelle and her stay here in London. Six months, she'd said. Six months and then what? Move back to the states maybe? He didn't even know if she was still in school or anything of that sort. How was America, did you adjust well, did people find your accent funny, more importantly, how are you? These were questions he wanted to ask her, but he just didn't quite know how. Nor did he get the chance. But that number was burning in his pocket, and he knew it was just possible he may get the chance to ask them.

"…and then dad would always say, that's not reverse, that's neutral!"

Both brothers finally shared a genuine laugh as they finished the sentence together. As much as Custiel disliked his father, the stories still had their moments. And it seemed even Tenth could find it in him to laugh at their dad. But that was a small morsel of good things between them compared to all the bad. And because of that, Custiel's smile quickly faded, much quicker than Tenth's.

There was another silence that followed. Custiel's pint was much more empty than Tenth's was, even though it was his second one. This day just felt like a roller coaster that he couldn't get off of. But the signal that showed the end was nearing was the ring of Tenth's mobile.

He answered it quickly, giving a few short, "yeah, yes, mhmm," responses before came, "I'm on my way."

Hanging up the call, he replaced his phone in its original place, standing as he did so, "Got to go, my next shift is starting soon."

Custiel gave a small nod and the hint of a smile, "Right."

"Oh, one more thing," Tenth said as he pushed his chair in, hesitating slightly almost as if he weren't quite sure of himself. "Any chance I could get Michelle's number from you?"

Custiel's mouth opened to respond, but nothing came at first. He tried again, "She didn't give you her number."

"Yeah, which is why I'm asking you," he said as if it were obvious. "Can I have it?"

Custiel's eyebrows furrowed, "No, I don't think you can. Don't you think that'd be a little odd if you call her up when she didn't give you her number?"

Tenth considered this for a moment. "Well, yes. Well, yes and no. I could just say I got it from you."

"Blimey, you've heard of this thing called being respectful, yeah? Taking her number without her consent? That's not exactly respectful," said the little brother to the bigger one who should already know this sort of common courtesy.

"Well," he repeated for the third time, dragging it out a bit. "Alright, you're right, you're right. Sorry. Maybe I'll just… Run into her eventually and ask her then. Anyway, cheers!"

Custiel leaned back more into his seat as Tenth walked off, giving a sigh. He slowly slumped into a position that couldn't have been at all comfortable. And really, it wasn't. But he didn't care. Tenth seemed just a little too interested in Michelle and it, quite frankly, rubbed him the wrong way. But he had to look at it this way. Michelle's number was in his pocket, and not in Tenth's. So who's the winner today? This little brother.

Alright, so maybe having those pints weren't such a great idea after all. Custiel's journey back to his flat was a tad bit wobbly, his tolerance not exactly the highest for alcohol. But once he'd gotten home and brewed himself some tea, it got a bit easier to handle. Tea had always done the trick to keep him level headed. Even if it was just a placebo effect.

Coming into his bedroom of his small flat, Custiel slid his suit jacket off, that stupid tie he didn't even like following soon after onto his bed. He intended to get some extra scheduling work done before tomorrow, knowing Ida would be down his throat in no time at all if he didn't get those done in time. Schedule was everything to the woman. And that was just his job, as thrilling as it was. But there was something calling to him.

Said something was located in a blue shoebox, the corners of the shoebox tattered and most of the original coloring gone and worn. He slid open the off white closet door in his bedroom, reaching up to an upper shelf and bringing down that little box. He shook it very slightly, confirming that it was still filled. Custiel stepped over to the small desk covered with papers in an unknown organized mess, pressing them all aside to make room for the box. Settling into the creaking swivel chair, he paused a moment to roll up his white sleeves, then he opened the box.

A smile slowly curled at his lips as he dumped the assorted papers onto the desk; they were of all shapes and sizes and colors. Some were torn, some still looked to be in great condition. But they were all a part of his childhood. The good parts of it. The parts that included Michelle.

Some had her drawings, her wonderful drawings that were amazing for her age. She was only 6 when they met and even then, her stick figures were much more intricately designed than his. And then he came across Tricey. Oh, this got a laugh out of him.

"It looks like a… Like a blob!"

And boy, did it. But behind that paper were pictures of improved triceratops, and they were, of course, by Michelle. She always tried to teach him the right way to draw one after she'd learned to draw it herself. Tricey had certainly seen better days judging by his drawings. Among all the other doodles, there was one he came to that had a picture of him. It was crudely drawn, but it was the most special of the bunch

It was the last picture she'd drawn for him before she moved away. He ran his fingers over the too-bright-green eyes, the floppy hair, the square face, and more importantly, the letters above him.

'CUSTY BECAUSE YOUR REAL NAME IS FUNNY'

Should he call her now? Maybe not. It was too soon and he was still slightly buzzed. No, not today, there was no rush. But tomorrow. Definitely tomorrow.