The Madman With The Box (1/2)
Title: The Madman With The Box
Author: coffeecupcakesx
Chapter: 1/2
Rating: Teen, overall
Words: 1271 words.
Based off the prompt: “YoungDoctor/YoungRose (both in their teens). The Doctor steals a TARDIS for the first time and who does he run into on his first rebellious trip? One Rose Tyler.” given to me by 365challenge at the then_theres_us ficathon.
The Madman With The BoxShareen’s doing her head in.
Don’t get her wrong, she loves a drink as much as the next person, but Shareen takes it to a whole other level. They not even legal - like they care, they’ve been drinking since they were fourteen, but that’s beside the point - but the whole club does not need to know that, or the fact that last time Shareen had sex she screamed a different man’s name when she climaxed. There’s such a thing as too much information.
Shareen’s basically legless, so Keisha offers to take her home to her’s. Shareen‘s Mum doesn‘t like it when she comes home drunk, so usually they crash at Keisha‘s whenever they‘ve been drinking. Keisha’s Mum doesn‘t mind as long as they come home safe. The club’s about a ten minute walk away from Rose’s house anyway, and Jackie’s out at a Christmas party with Bev and Auntie Mo. She won’t be back until morning. Rose isn’t even drunk, or buzzed. She was more worried about trying to keep Shareen from killing herself - or someone else.
She bids her best friends goodbye, one coherent and one just a blur of words and sounds. Rose laughs, and promises to text so that they know they’ve all got home safe. They do it every time they go out, so that everyone can sleep knowing their friends are safe.
By the time she fights her way through the mass of people to outside the club, it’s snowing. It has been for a while by the looks of things, as the ground is covered in a thin layer of the white stuff. Her nude heels sink into it, making it harder to walk. She wishes she’d worn boots. Her short silver dress isn’t doing much against the cold either, and her black jacket is wrapped tightly around her. Maybe tights would have been a sensible option.
The snow is coming down thickly, like a sheet of white, so she can’t see far in front of her. Rose scowls and ties her hair up in a short ponytail. She just bleached it blonde two weeks ago, and she doesn’t want to get it all ruined with the snow. It’s nice. She’d been persuading her Mum to bleach it since she was thirteen, and now that she’s finally seventeen she allowed it. It suits her, she thinks.
The snow is so thick that she doesn’t see the blue box until it’s basically right in front of her. She backs away from it, but is somehow unable to take her eyes off it. It’s so out of place on this London street that it’s fascinating.
The door opens as she’s walking away, and she turns her head around sharply. It’s a boy, about her age, that steps out. She catches a glimpse of gold before he shuts the door, but that can’t be possible, can it? It’s a police box. It looks like it could barely contain the two of them without it being a tight fit. Her face is red, and not entirely from the cold, when he looks up a sees her staring at him.
“Oh, hello!” he says, eyes wide. He obviously didn’t expect to see her there. Her eyes narrow as she takes him in. He is dressed like any guy her age - grey leather jacket, light grey jeans, trainers - but he certainly doesn’t talk like it. Even with those two words she’s figured that out. No guy she knows says ‘hello’ in such a way. They say ‘hey’ or ‘whassup?’ in that annoying way they see American rappers do on MTV. But she can’t help but smile at him, his friendly face, no matter how odd he may seem.
“Hey,” she says, softly, eyes darting between him and the box he just vacated. It’s itching, burning inside of her, the curiosity. She’d give just about anything right now to see what’s inside there.
He doesn’t miss this. “I bet you’re wondering about the box, right?” he says, glancing back to the blue box fondly. “I’m still wondering about it too. I wonder why it took the shape of a police box, how weird. Out of all the things in the universe to change in to, why a police box? On that note - where am I? What year is it? I did hope it wasn’t the seventeen hundreds, but based on your dress sense, I’m guessing it’s more twentieth century. Or fiftieth.”
Rose chokes out a nervous laugh at the boy in front of her - the clearly drunk boy. “How much have you had?” she asks, laughing a bit more. “Try twenty-first century. It’s two thousand and three, mate. You’re in London.”
“What do you mean, how much have I had?” he says, looking slightly offended. “But oh, two thousand and three, right. And, is it - is it Christmas?” he continues, glancing around at the lights and signs.
“Don’t know what gave you that idea,” Rose says sarcastically, and the boy grins at her.
“What’s your name?” he asks, smiling.
“Rose,” she says, hesitating to tell him any more than that. He doesn’t look like a creep, but neither did Jimmy Stone, and she’s just put that whole thing behind her. She smiles at him. “And what’s yours?” she asks, running a list of names through her head. He doesn’t suit any of them.
“The Doctor. Call me Doctor.”
Rose giggles. “The Doctor? As in people go around calling you Doctor? As in, ‘Doctor, can you pass the salt?’” she says, not really sure if she believes him or not. He’s strange enough, however, that she just might.
“Yep,” he says, smiling, “Aw, I love your accent. ‘Doctah.’ Ah, to be a Londoner.”
“Yeah, it’s fantastic,” Rose says dryly, and they both laugh, before the Doctor cuts off. He reaches inside his jacket and pulls out a thin, circular piece of metal. The blue bit at the top is glowing.
“What the hell is that?” Rose asks, eyes on the blue-tipped metal.
He waves it around slightly. “This, Rose, is a sonic screwdriver. It glowing means there’s trouble. So - do you fancy it?”
Rose stared. “Fancy what? The metal-screwdriver thing?”
“No!” he says, laughing. Rose starts laughing too, because the way his laugh makes his eyes light up is contagious. “Trouble? Do you fancy, maybe, checking it out with me?” he smiles, his expression somewhat hopeful.
Rose laughs again. “Are you being serious? That thing bleeps, and you’re gonna go chasing after it?”
The Doctor grins. “Of course! It’s fun. So, Rose, are you coming or aren’t go? I’m freezing just standing here. If you’ve got someone to go home to, then by all means, on you go. But you can come with me, if you like.”
She hesitates for a second. She’s about to open her mouth, to say yes, I have to get back to my mum, she’ll worry, but she honestly doesn’t. Jackie won’t be back until about mid-morning, if that. She knows Rose is more than capable looking after herself. Her curiosity, however, is burning like a wildfire deep inside of her, urging to go along with this mysterious boy. So no, she doesn’t have anyone to go back to.
“What do you mean by trouble?” she asks, instead of answering him, and he just laughs as he walks away from the blue box, in the opposite direction to Rose. And what choice, really, does she have but to follow?
Author: coffeecupcakesx
Chapter: 1/2
Rating: Teen, overall
Words: 1271 words.
Based off the prompt: “YoungDoctor/YoungRose (both in their teens). The Doctor steals a TARDIS for the first time and who does he run into on his first rebellious trip? One Rose Tyler.” given to me by 365challenge at the then_theres_us ficathon.
The Madman With The BoxShareen’s doing her head in.
Don’t get her wrong, she loves a drink as much as the next person, but Shareen takes it to a whole other level. They not even legal - like they care, they’ve been drinking since they were fourteen, but that’s beside the point - but the whole club does not need to know that, or the fact that last time Shareen had sex she screamed a different man’s name when she climaxed. There’s such a thing as too much information.
Shareen’s basically legless, so Keisha offers to take her home to her’s. Shareen‘s Mum doesn‘t like it when she comes home drunk, so usually they crash at Keisha‘s whenever they‘ve been drinking. Keisha’s Mum doesn‘t mind as long as they come home safe. The club’s about a ten minute walk away from Rose’s house anyway, and Jackie’s out at a Christmas party with Bev and Auntie Mo. She won’t be back until morning. Rose isn’t even drunk, or buzzed. She was more worried about trying to keep Shareen from killing herself - or someone else.
She bids her best friends goodbye, one coherent and one just a blur of words and sounds. Rose laughs, and promises to text so that they know they’ve all got home safe. They do it every time they go out, so that everyone can sleep knowing their friends are safe.
By the time she fights her way through the mass of people to outside the club, it’s snowing. It has been for a while by the looks of things, as the ground is covered in a thin layer of the white stuff. Her nude heels sink into it, making it harder to walk. She wishes she’d worn boots. Her short silver dress isn’t doing much against the cold either, and her black jacket is wrapped tightly around her. Maybe tights would have been a sensible option.
The snow is coming down thickly, like a sheet of white, so she can’t see far in front of her. Rose scowls and ties her hair up in a short ponytail. She just bleached it blonde two weeks ago, and she doesn’t want to get it all ruined with the snow. It’s nice. She’d been persuading her Mum to bleach it since she was thirteen, and now that she’s finally seventeen she allowed it. It suits her, she thinks.
The snow is so thick that she doesn’t see the blue box until it’s basically right in front of her. She backs away from it, but is somehow unable to take her eyes off it. It’s so out of place on this London street that it’s fascinating.
The door opens as she’s walking away, and she turns her head around sharply. It’s a boy, about her age, that steps out. She catches a glimpse of gold before he shuts the door, but that can’t be possible, can it? It’s a police box. It looks like it could barely contain the two of them without it being a tight fit. Her face is red, and not entirely from the cold, when he looks up a sees her staring at him.
“Oh, hello!” he says, eyes wide. He obviously didn’t expect to see her there. Her eyes narrow as she takes him in. He is dressed like any guy her age - grey leather jacket, light grey jeans, trainers - but he certainly doesn’t talk like it. Even with those two words she’s figured that out. No guy she knows says ‘hello’ in such a way. They say ‘hey’ or ‘whassup?’ in that annoying way they see American rappers do on MTV. But she can’t help but smile at him, his friendly face, no matter how odd he may seem.
“Hey,” she says, softly, eyes darting between him and the box he just vacated. It’s itching, burning inside of her, the curiosity. She’d give just about anything right now to see what’s inside there.
He doesn’t miss this. “I bet you’re wondering about the box, right?” he says, glancing back to the blue box fondly. “I’m still wondering about it too. I wonder why it took the shape of a police box, how weird. Out of all the things in the universe to change in to, why a police box? On that note - where am I? What year is it? I did hope it wasn’t the seventeen hundreds, but based on your dress sense, I’m guessing it’s more twentieth century. Or fiftieth.”
Rose chokes out a nervous laugh at the boy in front of her - the clearly drunk boy. “How much have you had?” she asks, laughing a bit more. “Try twenty-first century. It’s two thousand and three, mate. You’re in London.”
“What do you mean, how much have I had?” he says, looking slightly offended. “But oh, two thousand and three, right. And, is it - is it Christmas?” he continues, glancing around at the lights and signs.
“Don’t know what gave you that idea,” Rose says sarcastically, and the boy grins at her.
“What’s your name?” he asks, smiling.
“Rose,” she says, hesitating to tell him any more than that. He doesn’t look like a creep, but neither did Jimmy Stone, and she’s just put that whole thing behind her. She smiles at him. “And what’s yours?” she asks, running a list of names through her head. He doesn’t suit any of them.
“The Doctor. Call me Doctor.”
Rose giggles. “The Doctor? As in people go around calling you Doctor? As in, ‘Doctor, can you pass the salt?’” she says, not really sure if she believes him or not. He’s strange enough, however, that she just might.
“Yep,” he says, smiling, “Aw, I love your accent. ‘Doctah.’ Ah, to be a Londoner.”
“Yeah, it’s fantastic,” Rose says dryly, and they both laugh, before the Doctor cuts off. He reaches inside his jacket and pulls out a thin, circular piece of metal. The blue bit at the top is glowing.
“What the hell is that?” Rose asks, eyes on the blue-tipped metal.
He waves it around slightly. “This, Rose, is a sonic screwdriver. It glowing means there’s trouble. So - do you fancy it?”
Rose stared. “Fancy what? The metal-screwdriver thing?”
“No!” he says, laughing. Rose starts laughing too, because the way his laugh makes his eyes light up is contagious. “Trouble? Do you fancy, maybe, checking it out with me?” he smiles, his expression somewhat hopeful.
Rose laughs again. “Are you being serious? That thing bleeps, and you’re gonna go chasing after it?”
The Doctor grins. “Of course! It’s fun. So, Rose, are you coming or aren’t go? I’m freezing just standing here. If you’ve got someone to go home to, then by all means, on you go. But you can come with me, if you like.”
She hesitates for a second. She’s about to open her mouth, to say yes, I have to get back to my mum, she’ll worry, but she honestly doesn’t. Jackie won’t be back until about mid-morning, if that. She knows Rose is more than capable looking after herself. Her curiosity, however, is burning like a wildfire deep inside of her, urging to go along with this mysterious boy. So no, she doesn’t have anyone to go back to.
“What do you mean by trouble?” she asks, instead of answering him, and he just laughs as he walks away from the blue box, in the opposite direction to Rose. And what choice, really, does she have but to follow?