Ficlet: Home is where the doors are. (CRACKY. Rose/Doctor, Hamlet jokes.)
Wednesday, July 30th, 2008 06:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
orange_crushedHome is where the doors are. CRACK ALERT. This is a silly, slightly naughty post-Journey's End ficlet that is actually based on a Hamlet pic. You'll see why/how under the cut. This is very much for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
principia_coh and larissa_j. Because they are crazy in an awesome way and share my feelings on David Tennant: he makes being wrapped in newspapers and smelling like Wild Turkey seem sexy.
Spoilers for the season four finale, obviously.
"That's it." Rose stalks towards him and rips the ridiculously sweaty knit hat off of his head while he protests. "I'm going to take you home and get the gardener to turn the hose on you. Eight days of pet shampoo. A de-lousing." She sniffs the air. "Have you been sleeping by the docks ?"
"I don't need doors," he says, throwing an empty bottle over his shoulder. "Never needed them." He glances back at the nicely rounded vessel and reconsiders- a little ship could go inside that, if he could find one. Does this universe do the ship-in-a-bottle thing ? Who knows. Maybe he could start it. "Now, thirty feet of twine and a couple of circuit boosters, I could use." He reaches for the bottle and Rose puts one perfectly-shined boot on top of it.
"You need a shower."
"I need a vortex manipulator," he complains, "but you don't see me complaining."
"Of course not." Her lips curve upwards and he smiles, mirroring it- it's practically impossible not to. "You know, this Torchwood has a budget for stuff like that. You could just ask."
"Ask ?" He stares at her. "What, like, at a meeting ?"
"Yeah."
"No thanks," he snorts, and rifles through a bag of sweatshirts he found behind the grocer's. "Hey, Bugs Bunny !" He holds it up for her to see. "What's up, doc ?"
"That's it." Rose stalks towards him and rips the ridiculously sweaty knit hat off of his head while he protests. "I'm going to take you home and get the gardener to turn the hose on you. Eight days of pet shampoo. A de-lousing." She sniffs the air. "Have you been sleeping by the docks ?"
"That's where all the fish are," he tells her, without elaborating. She tilts her head and looks at him, really looks, in that patient and tender manner that never fails to make him feel as if she's winning a contest he didn't know he'd entered. Oh, well. It's a familiar sensation. "This isn't- Rose, I love living with you," he says in a rush, "it's just that house- with those doors- and those walls." He shudders. "Everything's insulated. You might as well pack me in foam and ship me." He holds up a broken toaster. "Plus, there's so much good stuff out here. This one's barely even burnt."
"I'm not going to live on the street and get worms with you," she sighs. "You smell like chip wrappers."
"Good nose, well done," he beams. He opens his coat and greasy papers spill out; he holds up each foot in turn so she can see the newspapers crumpled inside his boots. "They're warm and light. I think my body temperature's different now. You humans, I don't know how you cope."
"We live in houses," says Rose.
"Ah." He throws a baby doll over his shoulder and it makes a wah-wah noise with little enthusiasm. "That's sensible."
"I didn't want to do this," Rose says, with her arms across her chest, "but I'm afraid I've only got one more thing to say to you." She unbuttons her coat and he pauses in the middle of his fussing to look over, trying to be sly and cool and not at all transfixed. She's recently begun allowing him access to new areas in thrilling ways; ways that make it feel as if his nine hundred years of life experience were spent playing Connect Four. He thinks he ought to pay attention. "If you don't come home," she tells him gravely, "you will never see me naked again."
"Not even- from a distance ?" he asks, pained.
"No."
He pauses for a second to scratch the back of his neck, where a mild sunburn is starting to color over his bug bites. He thinks about a cupboard full of jam, and the many uses of jam, and of the very nice sofa that still has all of its springs.
And he thinks about Rose Tyler naked.
"I've just had the best idea," he tells her. "I think that when I get home, I'll put some shelves up."
Rose smiles.
principia_coh and larissa_j. Because they are crazy in an awesome way and share my feelings on David Tennant: he makes being wrapped in newspapers and smelling like Wild Turkey seem sexy.Spoilers for the season four finale, obviously.
"That's it." Rose stalks towards him and rips the ridiculously sweaty knit hat off of his head while he protests. "I'm going to take you home and get the gardener to turn the hose on you. Eight days of pet shampoo. A de-lousing." She sniffs the air. "Have you been sleeping by the docks ?"
"I don't need doors," he says, throwing an empty bottle over his shoulder. "Never needed them." He glances back at the nicely rounded vessel and reconsiders- a little ship could go inside that, if he could find one. Does this universe do the ship-in-a-bottle thing ? Who knows. Maybe he could start it. "Now, thirty feet of twine and a couple of circuit boosters, I could use." He reaches for the bottle and Rose puts one perfectly-shined boot on top of it.
"You need a shower."
"I need a vortex manipulator," he complains, "but you don't see me complaining."
"Of course not." Her lips curve upwards and he smiles, mirroring it- it's practically impossible not to. "You know, this Torchwood has a budget for stuff like that. You could just ask."
"Ask ?" He stares at her. "What, like, at a meeting ?"
"Yeah."
"No thanks," he snorts, and rifles through a bag of sweatshirts he found behind the grocer's. "Hey, Bugs Bunny !" He holds it up for her to see. "What's up, doc ?"
"That's it." Rose stalks towards him and rips the ridiculously sweaty knit hat off of his head while he protests. "I'm going to take you home and get the gardener to turn the hose on you. Eight days of pet shampoo. A de-lousing." She sniffs the air. "Have you been sleeping by the docks ?"
"That's where all the fish are," he tells her, without elaborating. She tilts her head and looks at him, really looks, in that patient and tender manner that never fails to make him feel as if she's winning a contest he didn't know he'd entered. Oh, well. It's a familiar sensation. "This isn't- Rose, I love living with you," he says in a rush, "it's just that house- with those doors- and those walls." He shudders. "Everything's insulated. You might as well pack me in foam and ship me." He holds up a broken toaster. "Plus, there's so much good stuff out here. This one's barely even burnt."
"I'm not going to live on the street and get worms with you," she sighs. "You smell like chip wrappers."
"Good nose, well done," he beams. He opens his coat and greasy papers spill out; he holds up each foot in turn so she can see the newspapers crumpled inside his boots. "They're warm and light. I think my body temperature's different now. You humans, I don't know how you cope."
"We live in houses," says Rose.
"Ah." He throws a baby doll over his shoulder and it makes a wah-wah noise with little enthusiasm. "That's sensible."
"I didn't want to do this," Rose says, with her arms across her chest, "but I'm afraid I've only got one more thing to say to you." She unbuttons her coat and he pauses in the middle of his fussing to look over, trying to be sly and cool and not at all transfixed. She's recently begun allowing him access to new areas in thrilling ways; ways that make it feel as if his nine hundred years of life experience were spent playing Connect Four. He thinks he ought to pay attention. "If you don't come home," she tells him gravely, "you will never see me naked again."
"Not even- from a distance ?" he asks, pained.
"No."
He pauses for a second to scratch the back of his neck, where a mild sunburn is starting to color over his bug bites. He thinks about a cupboard full of jam, and the many uses of jam, and of the very nice sofa that still has all of its springs.
And he thinks about Rose Tyler naked.
"I've just had the best idea," he tells her. "I think that when I get home, I'll put some shelves up."
Rose smiles.
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Date: Wednesday, July 30th, 2008 11:05 pm (UTC)I forgot about the pockets. He could bring his homeless friends a whole turkey dinner in those.
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Date: Wednesday, July 30th, 2008 11:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Wednesday, July 30th, 2008 11:16 pm (UTC)And all of Tony's stuff, too. :P
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Date: Wednesday, July 30th, 2008 11:19 pm (UTC)*Rose proffers the frog at him*
Ten: What what what?!
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Date: Thursday, July 31st, 2008 12:33 am (UTC)Or "Mr. Hoppers."
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Date: Thursday, July 31st, 2008 12:39 am (UTC)Doctor: No, you can't have him back. He's mine now.
Tony: MUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMM! *goes running off*
Rose: Ooh, you've done it now.
Doctor: I have not. I'll simply explain to your mother that the frog has a much better quality of life living in a proper terrarium environment that happens to be sustained...
Rose: *trying to sound stern while struggling not to laugh; poking him to emphasize each word* In. Your. Jacket.
Jackie: *knocks, enters* Oh, thank god. Last thing I needed was another hopping creature tracking mud all over this house. Besides Tony. And you.
Doctor: Oi!
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Date: Thursday, July 31st, 2008 12:55 am (UTC)I love every syllable of it. No wonder he smells like dirt XD
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Date: Thursday, July 31st, 2008 12:50 am (UTC)Wild turkey. More fun that way.
WHAT? You started it missy!
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Date: Thursday, July 31st, 2008 12:54 am (UTC)It would be heartwarming, and stuff.
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Date: Thursday, July 31st, 2008 12:59 am (UTC)Because he's drunk.
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Date: Thursday, July 31st, 2008 01:12 am (UTC)I can't even tell you how loudly I howled when I read that. I'm sure the neighbors are worrying about my sanity, as there's just very quiet music playing and me laughing my damn head off.
That's so... DOCTOR. In some weird way. He would totally get drunk and start calculating speed and offering up these completely invented explanations for things. "Rose- Rose, you have to wave a scarf," he'd say. "And be wearing tight capris. It- corrects for minor trajectory disturbances." And she would roll her eyes but she'd do it anyway, because she loves the dope.
I love this universe beyond words.
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Date: Thursday, July 31st, 2008 01:33 am (UTC)Because... um... The Master got shipped off to the alt!verse as a human for some reason we don't know yet.
Pick one. He got caught line jumping? Switching spoons at the buffet? Oooh, too many items in the express line and BAM he's human in the alt!verse.
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Date: Thursday, July 31st, 2008 01:37 am (UTC)I just made a joke to