Great Wells Think Alike Part 3 (T)

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Summary: Harry's found himself a new Council to be a part of and help him with his situation. With some new faces and a familiar one, will this new group be as weird interesting as the last?

A/N: S04E21.

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"Hey, Hare, they were all out of your usual but I got you a Brazilian Roast instead-"

"Well, well, well," comes a familiar southern accent, "Lookie here..."

You almost can't believe your eyes, seeing before you three vastly diverse versions of your boyfriend. Am I having déjà vu?

Harry is already moving to place a hand on you, probably a subconscious action on his part directed at his doppelgängers to not try any funny business. You hand him his coffee, unable to take your eyes off of these interesting looking characters.

"(Y/N), honey, this is... my new Council," he explains. "I believe you're already acquainted with H. Lothario."

You nod shyly and give a little wave to the man in the red silken robe that you've seen before (a little too much of last time, if you recall), to which the sandy-haired playboy gives you a wink.

"Oh! Lothario, mah man!" says the Italian sounding Wells in an all black tracksuit. "You didn't do this beautiful woman justice!" The man kisses his fingertips and makes an expressive gesture. "How ya doin' lovely lady?"

"Oh my," you blush, "I'm doin' fine, thank you."

"This here is Sonny Wells of Earth Twenty-Four," Harry goes to speak a little quieter, "Fair warning, he can be a bit of a loud-mouth..."

"Aye! This guy! He's always jokin', ain't he?"

"Never."

"Aw, come on Hare, you joke a little, sometimes," you say, growing more amused by all of this by the second. One of the other Wells catches your attention. He has a small moustache, a fabulous scarf and a black beret.

"Bonjour, madame. Je suis H.P. Wells d'Earth Vingt-Cinq," he introduces himself in a French accent, "Allow moi to recite un de mes poèmes for you. Eet reminds me of you."

"Thank you, H.P.," you say with a grin. He seems very sweet. "That would be wonderful."

H.P. pulls out the tiniest little book you've ever seen from his jacket pocket and clears his throat.

"Hot. Steamy. Wet-"

"Oh God..." Harry places a hand on his forehead, "Can you not?"

"-Zee taste on my tongue, so sweet-"

"Mmhm, I'm likin' this," Lothario says, nodding his head while wearing a twisted smile.

"-Your cream-"

"-Okay! That's the end of that!" Harry interrupts. "Enough of your... smutty poems." He pulls you back beside him and away from the holographic versions of himself as if they could lay their 'deviant' hands on you.

"Dang, H.P.," Lothario says, "Can I borrow that itty bitty little book of yours sometime?"

"What do you mean, smutty?" H.P. asks, "'Arry, dis is un poème about un peach pie!"

You want to laugh so badly right now, but you won't allow yourself. These silly yet brilliant guys are meant to help Harry dig deep to unlock his emotional side and you didn't want to jeopardize anything by making this seem like it wasn't a good idea. Because what better way to get Harry to get in touch with his feelings deep down within him than to have himself (times three) help with the process?

It seems like a genius idea to you.

"So, I'm going to go now," you tell Harry in a hushed tone, "But I want you to listen to these nice men and actually take their ideas into consideration, okay?"

Harry puts his hands on his hips. "Yeah, okay."

You stand on your tiptoes to kiss his pouty lips while grasping his jacket's collar. The Council whistles and calls out to you both, and before you leave the room, you make sure to blow kisses to each of them and wiggle your fingers goodbye, remembering the previous Council had enjoyed that very much last time. However, once you turn the corner on your way out, you stop to eavesdrop on the Wells' continuing conversation.

"You've bagged yourself a little minx, Harry ol' pal."

"Ahh, she is magnifique, très exquisite."

"Yeah," you hear Harry say in a softened voice, "She is. I feel so much when I'm with her..."

"An 'I feel' statement! Now we're in business, bada bing!"

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