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Doctor Who fic: Magpie
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aeron_lanart as part of the Fandom Free For All. Just a little bit of silliness.
*apologetic cough* My list is here if anyone's feeling artistic.
Title: Magpie
Author:jadesfire2808
Rating/Warnings: G/None
Words: ~890
Spoilers: None.
Notes: Written foraeron_lanart as part of the Fall Fandom Free For All
Summary: Donna's had enough.
Magpie
Donna had lived in a lot of deathtraps. There had been the bedsit in Wimbledon where the plug socket above the sink had sparked every time she'd done the washing up; the room in the house in Kilburn with the gas fire from hell; and, in the last place she'd lived before moving back home, there had been the staircase that you could only get down by pressing close to the wall unless you intended to get to the bottom very quickly and painfully. She was used to awkward living arrangements, difficult flatmates and eccentric houses.
But nothing had prepared her for the TARDIS.
Quite apart from the fact that she got lost every day for three weeks (and she swore the damn ship kept moving rooms when she wasn't looking), she'd noticed almost at once that her things were going missing.
It wasn't a big deal when she couldn't find her second-best hat, the one with the feathers on, because the TARDIS wardrobe room had more than enough to compensate. Losing her hairbrush had been a bit more of a problem, but she just about managed with a comb until the brush turned up, four days later. Of course, she couldn't get at it because it had somehow become incorporated into the main console and the Doctor swore that the transdimensional stabilisers wouldn't work without it now. He bought her a new one on the next planet where the inhabitants had hair.
Donna could cope with losing odds and ends, even the notebook that she'd been using as a haphazard diary and the last of her hair grips. They were irritations, quickly got over in the whirlwind that was life travelling with the Doctor. But this? This was much more serious.
The Doctor was in the main control room, talking to the console in the way he did when he thought she wouldn't notice. He looked up, startled, when she burst in, moving quickly to put the machinery between them.
"Everything okay?" he asked, doing a really bad job of the innocent look.
"Do I look like everything's okay?" Donna stopped herself from slamming a hand onto the console, having learned her lesson last time, and settled for just leaning on it, glaring at the Doctor.
He swallowed hard. "Anything I can do?"
"You can tell your thieving, greedy ship to stop nicking my stuff, that's what you can do. And don't look at me like that," she added quickly, because the Doctor had a protective hand on the console and his expression was moving rapidly from 'innocent' to 'hurt'. "You know that it's been at it since the day I came on board."
"It's a compliment!" The Doctor said, his voice rising to match hers. "You should be flattered that you have things the TARDIS wants!"
Donna took a deep breath, putting emphasis on each word and trying not to thump the panel in front of her, just in case. "What could the TARDIS possibly want with my model of the Eiffel Tower, three Jackie Collins novels and a blue biro?"
From the twisted grimace on the Doctor's face, he didn't have a clue about that either, and Donna cut him off again as he opened his mouth to speak.
"Don't even try it. Just. Tell it to stop."
"Her." The Doctor's voice was abruptly quiet, the change in volume tripping up Donna's next injured rant.
She stared at him. "What?"
"Her," he said again, a little petulantly. "The TARDIS is a her, not an it."
"Oh." Donna looked down at the console under her hands.
"Yes, well." Pulling himself up to his full skinniness, the Doctor sucked in a deep breath. "I'll try to get her to stop taking your things. What was it this time?"
"Huh?" It took Donna a moment to register the question, then she shook her head. "Nothing, it's… It's fine. Nothing important, I can always… Tell her, it's fine."
"Oooooooooookay." The Doctor drew the word out for as long as he possibly could, eyeing Donna suspiciously but apparently happy to settle for the sudden peace and quiet. "I will. She's a bit out of sorts at the moment as it is." He stroke a protective hand over a set of buttons.
Donna kept her voice steady as she asked, "Anything serious?"
"I don't think so." Frowning a little, the Doctor turned a dial, just a fraction. "She does this every so often."
"Every so often? Like, regularly?"
"Well, she's getting on a bit." The Doctor's tone was defensive. "And it's not like I can just order spare parts."
"Right." Still looking down at the console, Donna nodded. "Right then. I'll just…" She straightened up, aware of the Doctor's curious look. "I'll just be in my room, okay?"
"Okay."
"Okay. Okay." Donna smiled brightly, still not meeting the Doctor's eye, then turned and headed for the door.
In the interior corridor, she hesitated for a moment, then put a hand flat against one of the TARDIS roundels. "Every so often, eh?" she asked, feeling a faint trembling under her fingers. "Typical man, calls himself a Time Lord, can't even count twenty-eight days." Patting the roundel, she smiled, feeling a little silly but equally sure that the gesture was appreciated. "It's fine," she said. "You keep the chocolate."
aeron_lanart as part of the Fandom Free For All. Just a little bit of silliness.*apologetic cough* My list is here if anyone's feeling artistic.
Title: Magpie
Author:
jadesfire2808Rating/Warnings: G/None
Words: ~890
Spoilers: None.
Notes: Written for
aeron_lanart as part of the Fall Fandom Free For AllSummary: Donna's had enough.
Donna had lived in a lot of deathtraps. There had been the bedsit in Wimbledon where the plug socket above the sink had sparked every time she'd done the washing up; the room in the house in Kilburn with the gas fire from hell; and, in the last place she'd lived before moving back home, there had been the staircase that you could only get down by pressing close to the wall unless you intended to get to the bottom very quickly and painfully. She was used to awkward living arrangements, difficult flatmates and eccentric houses.
But nothing had prepared her for the TARDIS.
Quite apart from the fact that she got lost every day for three weeks (and she swore the damn ship kept moving rooms when she wasn't looking), she'd noticed almost at once that her things were going missing.
It wasn't a big deal when she couldn't find her second-best hat, the one with the feathers on, because the TARDIS wardrobe room had more than enough to compensate. Losing her hairbrush had been a bit more of a problem, but she just about managed with a comb until the brush turned up, four days later. Of course, she couldn't get at it because it had somehow become incorporated into the main console and the Doctor swore that the transdimensional stabilisers wouldn't work without it now. He bought her a new one on the next planet where the inhabitants had hair.
Donna could cope with losing odds and ends, even the notebook that she'd been using as a haphazard diary and the last of her hair grips. They were irritations, quickly got over in the whirlwind that was life travelling with the Doctor. But this? This was much more serious.
The Doctor was in the main control room, talking to the console in the way he did when he thought she wouldn't notice. He looked up, startled, when she burst in, moving quickly to put the machinery between them.
"Everything okay?" he asked, doing a really bad job of the innocent look.
"Do I look like everything's okay?" Donna stopped herself from slamming a hand onto the console, having learned her lesson last time, and settled for just leaning on it, glaring at the Doctor.
He swallowed hard. "Anything I can do?"
"You can tell your thieving, greedy ship to stop nicking my stuff, that's what you can do. And don't look at me like that," she added quickly, because the Doctor had a protective hand on the console and his expression was moving rapidly from 'innocent' to 'hurt'. "You know that it's been at it since the day I came on board."
"It's a compliment!" The Doctor said, his voice rising to match hers. "You should be flattered that you have things the TARDIS wants!"
Donna took a deep breath, putting emphasis on each word and trying not to thump the panel in front of her, just in case. "What could the TARDIS possibly want with my model of the Eiffel Tower, three Jackie Collins novels and a blue biro?"
From the twisted grimace on the Doctor's face, he didn't have a clue about that either, and Donna cut him off again as he opened his mouth to speak.
"Don't even try it. Just. Tell it to stop."
"Her." The Doctor's voice was abruptly quiet, the change in volume tripping up Donna's next injured rant.
She stared at him. "What?"
"Her," he said again, a little petulantly. "The TARDIS is a her, not an it."
"Oh." Donna looked down at the console under her hands.
"Yes, well." Pulling himself up to his full skinniness, the Doctor sucked in a deep breath. "I'll try to get her to stop taking your things. What was it this time?"
"Huh?" It took Donna a moment to register the question, then she shook her head. "Nothing, it's… It's fine. Nothing important, I can always… Tell her, it's fine."
"Oooooooooookay." The Doctor drew the word out for as long as he possibly could, eyeing Donna suspiciously but apparently happy to settle for the sudden peace and quiet. "I will. She's a bit out of sorts at the moment as it is." He stroke a protective hand over a set of buttons.
Donna kept her voice steady as she asked, "Anything serious?"
"I don't think so." Frowning a little, the Doctor turned a dial, just a fraction. "She does this every so often."
"Every so often? Like, regularly?"
"Well, she's getting on a bit." The Doctor's tone was defensive. "And it's not like I can just order spare parts."
"Right." Still looking down at the console, Donna nodded. "Right then. I'll just…" She straightened up, aware of the Doctor's curious look. "I'll just be in my room, okay?"
"Okay."
"Okay. Okay." Donna smiled brightly, still not meeting the Doctor's eye, then turned and headed for the door.
In the interior corridor, she hesitated for a moment, then put a hand flat against one of the TARDIS roundels. "Every so often, eh?" she asked, feeling a faint trembling under her fingers. "Typical man, calls himself a Time Lord, can't even count twenty-eight days." Patting the roundel, she smiled, feeling a little silly but equally sure that the gesture was appreciated. "It's fine," she said. "You keep the chocolate."
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