Fayth (faythbrady) wrote,
Fayth
faythbrady

  • Mood:
Title- Multi-tasking
Author- Fayth
Show/Ship- Doctor Who. Ten/Rose
Rating- PG/PGF/YT/T
Genre- Fluff
Prompt- #15 Neck
Disclaimer- I swapped Jensen Ackles for David Tennant. Good bargain.
Summary- Typical man, can't multi-task. Can he talk and listen?
A/N- My sister, Macs, helped me with this prompt and so I dedicate it to her. Happy!Who ficlet.



The Doctor had often told Rose that he was impressive and, he maintained, that he was even more impressive in this new regeneration.

He said that he could see all that was, all that will be and all that could be.

He thinks he’s wonderful, incredible and indescribable.

Rose thinks he’s full of crap.

He may be extremely intelligent, possibly the smartest person she had ever met; he may be energetic, buoyant and witty, sexy, sarcastic and caring but he was still, at core, male.

And that meant that he couldn’t really do more than one thing at a time—especially listen to her— whilst he was rattling away at a hundred miles an hour about trivial rubbish and attempt to ‘fix’ the TARDIS.

Multi-tasking; not really something the Doctor was capable of. Like most men.

“—so the Holy Hadrojassic Empire was then amalgamated into Maxarodenfoe’s third domain. He, of course, decided that his name should be imported into the final product, a bit like the Coca-cola-Pepsi merger of 2342.”

Rose sighed, bored with his ramblings. “Are you nearly done?”

“Not that the merger was successful, I mean after you reveal your secret ingredient obviously your sales are going to go down—”

“Doctor?”

“—especially if you end up telling people it was Dodo saliva which you’ve been farming under Cleeveland for centuries. The ramifications of that!”

Rose wrinkled her nose. What on Earth was he talking about now? “Are we going to visit Beetlejuice, like you said?”

“I mean, for one thing the phrase; ‘dead as a Dodo’ was now obsolete and had to re-phrased and, call me a cynic, but ‘dead as a house sparrow’ just doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

“You really could talk the hind legs off a donkey,” Rose muttered but even the insult hadn’t penetrated and he tucked himself under the console, still talking.

“Dead as a dormouse could work but only after 2118 when they all mysteriously vanished off the face of the Earth, confused scientists for years that did. It was like they’d done a Mary Celeste.”

Rose perched herself on the edge of the console and swung her legs, trying to make head or tail of what he was saying. It was interesting in an abstract way but he didn’t really need an audience. This regeneration had certainly got a gob.

Maybe she could shake him out of it.

Rose folded her arms over chest. “I think my mother’s an alien.”

“Of course, they didn’t know that the dormice were actually abducted by the Dentrassi who had depleted the mouse population of Greta-Gergass and needed a secondary supply. Took some finagling on my part to persuade them that Earth dormice were of a different constitution and were, therefore, inedible to most life-forms—”

Rose blinked. He hadn’t even heard her! She wasn’t so selfish that she thought her ever word would be listened to, but to be completely ignored?

“We need to create a nursery in the TARDIS,” Rose said determined to make him react. “I’m having triplets.”

Nothing.

“They’re Jack’s, incidentally.”

“—I would have returned all the dormice back to Earth but they were so happy on Greta-Gergass that I left them there. Created their own little world and get on quite well with the Dentrassi, which is quite a feat. Nasty little buggers, Dentrassi—”

Rose started to smile. Actually she wondered how far she could go here.

“We need to save the Earth. The Martian’s are going to build a hyperspace bypass.” Rose bit her lip as he carried on regardless of her little announcement. “Seriously they’re going to destroy the Earth, build it right through Cleethorpes.”

“—thought that by now they’d be used to it. Annoying little things, plus they make Space Nettle soup without removing the stingers! It’s like catching your teeth on a cactus. How that ever caught on, I’ll never know—like Disco. Baffles the mind.”

She swung her legs, mind working furiously. “I’ve decided to join the Intergalactic Circus; trapeze artist in zero gravity sounds easy enough.”

“Now, rock I appreciate and even punk—”

“I’ll have to buy a little skirt though, so can we go shopping?”
Say yes, say yes. That’ll serve you right, she thought.

“Techno, base, scat, hip-hop, rap—which was first brought to Earth by a Sontaran with a stutter, by the way—and even some country music, I get that. But Disco? Roller skating to music? What is with that? And at the same time as flares, talk about safety hazard! All that polyester a fire hazard. I’m not surprised that they were called the roaring seventies …. Oh wait, that was the twenties.”

Rose grinned. “I want to run away with an Urbankan. We’re going to create a race of lizard robots and take over the universe.”

“The Thirties weren’t bad, a bit depressing, of course, but then so were the nineties … the 20-teens were okay, I suppose, if you discount the whole human race as an instantly down-loadable source-network. Speaking of downloadable sources, what the hell does this do?”

“Destroys the universe, I told you,” she said, thoroughly enjoying herself. “It’s part of our diabolical plan.”

“Maybe it needs re-jigging. I came first in jiggery-pokery you know.”

“But failed human interaction. That reminds me, Doctor, Mickey wants your autograph. Says he’s in love with you.” She smothered a laugh with her hand.

“But then again, I think I may have a spare knocking about somewhere; could be just as easy to replace as to re-jig, but I may need it again someday.”

“But I told him you were mine and he’d have to get his own. Then he said that we hadn’t even kissed yet, and he’s right.”

“But that day is this day and so it might be better to replace it now.”

“So, Doctor, wanna neck? Make out for half an hour? All in the interests of your safety from Mickey.”

“Where did I put it?”

“Do—”

“Rose?”

She jumped guiltily and plastered a smile on her face as he turned his attention to her.

“Yes?”

“Can you fetch me the rapid inhibitor from the kitchen? It’s in the second drawer from the left. I think we’ve been using it as an egg timer.”

“Sure.” Stifling a smirk Rose wriggled off her perch on the console and headed for the door.

Men; they really were clueless.

“Oh, Rose?”

She half-turned. “Yeah?”

He leaned against the console, a sly smile firmly in place, hand ruffling his hair. “Jackie isn’t an alien, at least not one I’ve heard of. The TARDIS already has a nursery, although I don’t think Jack is quite that fertile. The Martians don’t build hyperspace bypasses, that’s Vogons and Cleethorpes could use the renovation. There is no point wearing a skirt in zero gravity and I’m sure the Circus is full. Urbankan’s died fifty thousand years ago. World domination is so passé and you can tell Mickey I’m not interested, okay?”

Rose blushed. “Okay.”

He gave her his biggest, sexiest smile. “Great, the rapid inhibitor?”

“Okay.” Flushing bright pink, Rose headed for the door again before something occurred to her and she stopped. “You didn’t answer the last one.”

Wanna Neck?

“Sorry,” he smirked, “I wasn’t listening.”
Tags: doctorwho, fic, prompt
Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 49 comments
Previous
← Ctrl ← Alt
Next
Ctrl → Alt →
Previous
← Ctrl ← Alt
Next
Ctrl → Alt →