Why You Should Never Wear White To Save The World
Title - Why You Should Never Wear White To Save The World.
Author - coffeecupcakesx
Pairing - TenRose
Summary - The Doctor is sick of bad things happening when he wears his black tux, but what could happen when he wears his white tux to a formal event? Well, it is him, so trouble in a most unexpected fashion is most definitely on the menu.
Rating - G
Word Count - 1190
A/N - Inspired by an icon of DT wearing his white suit at comic relief. Cue thought - what would happen if the Dcotor wore white?
Teaser - His wardrobe was considerably smaller than the TARDIS one, but nevertheless all his suits were hanging there, including the 'Doom Tux' as Rose had nicknamed it, especially after the incident on the parallel Earth. He glared at the smart, black tuxedo, feeling as though if he even looked at it too long something horrible, bad, awful, deplorable, or anything of that negative sort would occur.
Why You Should Never Wear White To Save The World
Rose was laughing at him.
This was not anything new, not by any means. Rose liked to laugh at him frequently, whether he forgot to put the top on the blender before pressing the button (easy mistake to make, in his opinion)
or accidentally electrocuted himself with a wire while trying to fix the TARDIS. Why, though, is a funny story …
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They had landed (somewhat messily, but that's a story for another day) on the planet Cerise, named after its shockingly pink sky. They had barely been out the door ten minutes and they had managed to get themselves embroiled in a possible assassination prevention with a head of possible-assassination-prevention man, named Freipa, and another member of the High Senate of Cerise, called Colin.
Freipa had invited them to the Inaugural Ball, where the new High Minister of Cerise was being sworn in. It was also where and when Freipa and Colin thought the new High Minister would be assassinated. So, of course, the Doctor and Rose simply couldn't resist an invite to a formal ball, especially if trouble was the main dish of the night.
So, Rose had swanned off to get ready several minutes ago, intent on finding a nice dress for the evening. Even though he thought she looked exceptional in everything, she didn't seem to agree with him on this particular idea. He had turned left when she turned right, and into his wardrobe.
His wardrobe was considerably smaller than the TARDIS one, but nevertheless all his suits were hanging there, including the 'Doom Tux' as Rose had nicknamed it, especially after the incident on the parallel Earth. He glared at the smart, black tuxedo, feeling as though if he even looked at it too long something horrible, bad, awful, deplorable, or anything of that negative sort would occur.
He spotted a flash of brightness at the end, and pulled out a pristine, white suit from the wardrobe. It wasn't black and it was pinstripe, so it counted as formal. And he hadn't worn it at all. Maybe if the black suit meant bad times, then the white suit meant good times?
He grinned; it was worth a try. After he'd changed, he had to admit he looked good. The white suit went with the red tie he'd picked out, and his red converse tied the whole outfit together.
Rose, of course, looked gorgeous in a knee-length chiffon turquoise dress, and had burst into peals of laughter at the sight of him in a crystal white tux.
“This is the point where you explain the white tux,” she said, trying to get herself under control.
“I'm fed up of the Doom Tux bringing bad times to every formal event. So if black equals bad then maybe white equals good?” the Doctor replied, fiddling with his tie.
“It suits you, in a weird way. But I still prefer you in pinstripes,” Rose said, threading her fingers through his and smiling at him in a way only she did. “Ready to go save a President?”
“Of course,” he said, leading her out of the TARDIS, “And actually, he's a High Minister.”
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White did not equal good.
Red wine. (Or similar.)
A bright pink concoction called Murtia.
Spongy stuff that resembled chocolate mousse.
Blue blood.
All of the above now had a patch on his suit.
“I think everything that could be split got spilt on you,” Rose said, biting her lip to stop herself giggling as she tried in vain to get some stuff off his suit in what resembled a kitchen. All seemed intent to leave a stain.
“And trust Cerisans to have blue blood,” the Doctor said, inspecting his suit jacket that lay across the table, Rose dabbing at it with a damp cloth. His trousers were covered as well, but they were staying where they were.
“Bright blue blood,” Rose amended, a small frown creasing her forehead as she tried to rub it off. “It would be a nice colour, anywhere else. I'm sorry, Doctor, this isn't coming off anytime soon.” She threw the cloth down on the table in defeat, turning to him with an apologetic smile.
“It's okay. The TARDIS might be able to save it,” he said, shrugging on the jacket. It was cold outside, and even though he had advanced Time Lord physiology, he wasn't totally immune to cold - rather just acted like he was.
“At least we managed to stop the President - sorry, 'High Minister' - from being assassinated,” Rose said, smiling as she took his hand as he lead her back to the TARDIS.
“Yeah, suppose we did. Although, it wasn't as much fun as I thought it would be,” the Doctor said, as they stopped to bade their goodbyes to Colin and Freipa.
“Yeah, boring by our standards,” Rose said. The Rebels had held a gun to the High Minister's head, the assassination-prevention people swanned in, and the Rebels had immediately surrendered. Not fun. But it had been fun to see the Doctor get everything that could be possibly spilt spilt on him in the afterparty.
“Right. I think I need a cup of tea and maybe a bag of chips, what do you - argh!” the Doctor said, before trailing off as he stumbled over a rock he missed while looking at Rose. Damn her prettiness,
distracting him from rocks that are out to trip him up …
and into a puddle of mud.
Hence the reason why Rose was laughing at him to much now. He was sitting in a sopping wet pile of mud, that smelled really, really bad. It was seeping through his trousers now, and he really wasn't seeing the funny side that Rose was clearly seeing.
“Oh, this is not your day, is it?” she said, through tears of laughter. “This is why you should never wear white to save the world.”
“I would never had done if I knew this was going to happen,” he said, accepting Rose's hand up. He put a hand to him bum, it coming away covered in mud. He lifted it to his nose and sniffed before wrenching his hand away from his face slightly.
“If you're going to lick that, then I will officially disown you.”
Rose's voice was slightly disgusted as he turned around to face her. He scowled at her, and she just stuck her tongue out at him childishly. The Doctor repeated the action then walked away (in what could only be described as a flounce) back to the TARDIS.
Rose started giggling again at the sight of all the stinky mud coating his butt. She ran behind him as best she could in heels, smiling at his discomfort of being covering in gunk.
“Doctor, I know that toilets are hard to find, but please, for God's sake, try and keep it in next time!”
For that, she got locked out of the TARDIS for fifteen minutes.