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rivendellroseBefore I get into this, let me say that I watched another 4th season ep of Angel last night and have determined that nope, I lied, I don't like Connor. Also, the whole Oedipal theme in this season? Seriously weird.
Aaaaaanyway... this is possibly the stupidest, most pointlessly silly fic I've ever written, but I spent a good day with the image stuck in my head, wrote it, thought I'd never post it... and then fell in love all over again with the concept (and a few of the lines of dialogue), so... Here it is. A piece of fine silliness - don't dream of taking it seriously!
Fandom: Doctor Who
Timeline: Tenth Doctor, pre-Doomsday
Summary: Being a Time Lord comes with a few disadvantages.
Rating: PG-13 for a bit of language, if I recall correctly.
Rose Tyler had grown unhappily used to the sounds of living things in pain, but they still weren’t something she was accustomed to hearing inside the TARDIS, before they’d even landed somewhere. As it was, the agonized moaning that echoed in the ship’s over-sized halls could only be coming from the one other living being aboard - the last one she wanted to hear in pain.
“Doctor! Doctor, are you alright?” The corridor to the control room was surely shorter than was normal, thanks to the TARDIS’s useful knack for rearranging its insides for the benefit of passengers, but it still felt too long as she ran. “What’s happened? What’s going on?”
“No, nothing, I just... oh God!” The Doctor’s voice rose in a crescendo of pain.
“Doctor!” She skittered into the control room and found her friend curled up on the floor next to the central column, his forehead pressed against the floor and his fingers buried in his hair, wrenching and twisting as though he hoped to pull it all out by the roots. “What’s happened, what on earth... are you alright?”
“Would you keep it down, please?” he yelled, and then winced visibly at the sound. “No, I’m not alright! I’m... dying or something. I’m withering away on the floor and you’re acting like it’s a bloody tea-party! This is... oh, kill me now. Just take out the sonic screwdriver and stick it right into my ear so I don’t have to feel this anymore!”
“You go off on a bender or something without me, Doctor, ‘cause this awfully sounds like--”
“I am not hungover. I have. A headache. The headache to end all headaches - a headache the magnitude of which a puny little ape like you couldn’t begin to comprehend, so just.... just keep it quiet, will you, and leave me to puddle my brains away in peace.”
Rose snorted. Men. Alien or human, they’re all the same...
“You know, you’re as bad as Mickey, sometimes. Little bit of a head cold, touch of the flu and all of a sudden he’s the world’s biggest baby, has to have me over to make him soup every night ‘cause he’s in too much pain to open a bloody can and use the stove.”
The Doctor gave her his most withering stare. “I’m in pain, here, and you compare me to Mickey the Idiot? Oh, that’s real helpful, that is. With friends like you, who needs Daleks? Go on, then, kick me while I’m on the floor. You might just as well. Here, I’ll lay on my side so you can get the stomach, or maybe a nice shot to the kidneys... eugh....”
Worst part was, she couldn’t even work up a good righteous anger at him, miserable as he looked. He just lay there, sniping as always, but every few sentences his face would screw up with obvious pain, and if he moved his head too fast he’d wince and close his eyes, a soft hiss escaping as he tried to cope.
“Alright, come on, I’m sorry. Poor thing. Here...” She knelt down at his side, rubbing his hair softly. “Get these often, then? The headaches, I mean. Never seen you down with one before...”
“Not often,” he admitted grudgingly. “Haven’t had one in... oh, centuries, I suppose. Don’t know what brings them on, but they’re... they beat up migraines for their pocket money, I’m sure of it.”
“Can’t do anything by halves, can you?” Rose shook her head and scooted over on her knees to a nearby panel that came off to reveal a little hidey-nook. She’d hidden her pack there so it wouldn’t get in the way while they were flying, but could be easily gotten to whenever they landed. Most of her stuff was in her room, but she was pretty sure... “Hah, here we go. There. Can’t say it’ll fix you up right as new again, but it might help.”
The Doctor opened one eye, looked into the palm of her hand, and screamed.
“Rose Tyler, you’re trying to kill me! I should’ve known! Get that away from me this instant!”
“What - this?” She held up the tiny white pill between thumb and forefinger.
“Aspirin?!” the Doctor demanded, pointing an accusing finger at the offending analgesic. “I knew it! You’re trying to kill me!”
Aaaaaanyway... this is possibly the stupidest, most pointlessly silly fic I've ever written, but I spent a good day with the image stuck in my head, wrote it, thought I'd never post it... and then fell in love all over again with the concept (and a few of the lines of dialogue), so... Here it is. A piece of fine silliness - don't dream of taking it seriously!
Fandom: Doctor Who
Timeline: Tenth Doctor, pre-Doomsday
Summary: Being a Time Lord comes with a few disadvantages.
Rating: PG-13 for a bit of language, if I recall correctly.
Rose Tyler had grown unhappily used to the sounds of living things in pain, but they still weren’t something she was accustomed to hearing inside the TARDIS, before they’d even landed somewhere. As it was, the agonized moaning that echoed in the ship’s over-sized halls could only be coming from the one other living being aboard - the last one she wanted to hear in pain.
“Doctor! Doctor, are you alright?” The corridor to the control room was surely shorter than was normal, thanks to the TARDIS’s useful knack for rearranging its insides for the benefit of passengers, but it still felt too long as she ran. “What’s happened? What’s going on?”
“No, nothing, I just... oh God!” The Doctor’s voice rose in a crescendo of pain.
“Doctor!” She skittered into the control room and found her friend curled up on the floor next to the central column, his forehead pressed against the floor and his fingers buried in his hair, wrenching and twisting as though he hoped to pull it all out by the roots. “What’s happened, what on earth... are you alright?”
“Would you keep it down, please?” he yelled, and then winced visibly at the sound. “No, I’m not alright! I’m... dying or something. I’m withering away on the floor and you’re acting like it’s a bloody tea-party! This is... oh, kill me now. Just take out the sonic screwdriver and stick it right into my ear so I don’t have to feel this anymore!”
“You go off on a bender or something without me, Doctor, ‘cause this awfully sounds like--”
“I am not hungover. I have. A headache. The headache to end all headaches - a headache the magnitude of which a puny little ape like you couldn’t begin to comprehend, so just.... just keep it quiet, will you, and leave me to puddle my brains away in peace.”
Rose snorted. Men. Alien or human, they’re all the same...
“You know, you’re as bad as Mickey, sometimes. Little bit of a head cold, touch of the flu and all of a sudden he’s the world’s biggest baby, has to have me over to make him soup every night ‘cause he’s in too much pain to open a bloody can and use the stove.”
The Doctor gave her his most withering stare. “I’m in pain, here, and you compare me to Mickey the Idiot? Oh, that’s real helpful, that is. With friends like you, who needs Daleks? Go on, then, kick me while I’m on the floor. You might just as well. Here, I’ll lay on my side so you can get the stomach, or maybe a nice shot to the kidneys... eugh....”
Worst part was, she couldn’t even work up a good righteous anger at him, miserable as he looked. He just lay there, sniping as always, but every few sentences his face would screw up with obvious pain, and if he moved his head too fast he’d wince and close his eyes, a soft hiss escaping as he tried to cope.
“Alright, come on, I’m sorry. Poor thing. Here...” She knelt down at his side, rubbing his hair softly. “Get these often, then? The headaches, I mean. Never seen you down with one before...”
“Not often,” he admitted grudgingly. “Haven’t had one in... oh, centuries, I suppose. Don’t know what brings them on, but they’re... they beat up migraines for their pocket money, I’m sure of it.”
“Can’t do anything by halves, can you?” Rose shook her head and scooted over on her knees to a nearby panel that came off to reveal a little hidey-nook. She’d hidden her pack there so it wouldn’t get in the way while they were flying, but could be easily gotten to whenever they landed. Most of her stuff was in her room, but she was pretty sure... “Hah, here we go. There. Can’t say it’ll fix you up right as new again, but it might help.”
The Doctor opened one eye, looked into the palm of her hand, and screamed.
“Rose Tyler, you’re trying to kill me! I should’ve known! Get that away from me this instant!”
“What - this?” She held up the tiny white pill between thumb and forefinger.
“Aspirin?!” the Doctor demanded, pointing an accusing finger at the offending analgesic. “I knew it! You’re trying to kill me!”
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no subject
Date: 2007-08-22 12:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-22 12:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-22 12:38 am (UTC)My dad and brother are exactly the same when they get ill, completely exagerate everything!
no subject
Date: 2007-08-22 12:47 am (UTC)On the other hand, my dad's the exact same way sometimes. So yeah. ;)
no subject
Date: 2007-08-23 02:41 am (UTC)Poor Doctor. ;D
By the way, I have a cute surprise for you the next time I see you!
no subject
Date: 2007-08-23 10:05 pm (UTC)Oh? Whatever it is, you shouldn't have! But yay!
And how are you liking Season 1?
no subject
Date: 2007-08-24 04:09 am (UTC)I've only watched the first 2 eps, but ohmigosh, he is so darling!!
(and when you DO get pic of him naked....
don't forget to forward them my way.)