Fic: Matt/David, for Char (:
title: Erase/Replace (And Maybe Kiss a Bit in the Middle)
pairing: Matt Smith/David Tennant
fandom: Doctor Who (rps)
rating: PG-... 15? No man!sex - yet -, but bad language.
summary: "You were great," Matt said softly. He didn’t need to elaborate on what David was great at; it certainly wasn’t the fight with the table. "You were absolutely brilliant."
a/n1: I seriously doubt I got the voices right, but this was definitely fun to write. I should probably warn for fairly high levels of Dave!angst. Not quite Sam Tyler level, but getting there. And a little bit of Matt, but he's mostly just whining (;
a/n2: I wrote this for charharkness because it's her birthday today (: I'll do the sex some other time (; Love you <3
a/n3: The title - minus the part in brackets - is shamelessly nabbed from a Foo Fighter's song. Cheers Dave <3 (:
There was a smattering of applause and laughter as David was lowered back to the ground, readjusting himself as his safety-stunt harness was unclipped. Then a woman suddenly scurried through the door, beaming and attracting everyone’s attention with the words "Matt’s coming over here now!"
The muttering spread into a buzz of noise as the crew began to chatter. Russell was outside already. David supposed he should leave now. He slipped away and out the back door, and for the first time in his four years on this show, he was not at all noticed.
But he saw Matt, before he could get to his trailer to change. He saw him, and stopped dead, the words barely forming in his mind before they tumbled out his mouth, and he was grateful no-one was there to hear him because he felt so stupid and childish and pathetic as his throat closed up and his eyes stung.
"He’s wearing my suit," he whispered, and then turned, quick as a flash, and disappeared to get changed.
Matt Smith saw a streak of brown out of the corner of his eye and almost turned, but caught Russell’s gaze and was immediately distracted.
"Hello Matt," Russell said cheerily, shaking his hand. "It’s nice to meet you at last."
"You too," Matt replied honestly. "Are they ready for me?"
Russell nodded, and that would have been that, but then Matt leant in and asked in a soft whisper, "where can I find David?"
David stripped out of his suit at a speed that even alarmed himself, redressed in his own clothes, then gathered each piece of clothing up in his arms and dumped them on the sofa. He looked at them for a second, seeing Matt in his head as he did, the lump still heavy and present in his throat, and pushed them aside to sit down. He didn’t even care that most of them fell on the floor, the tie hanging despondently over the edge of the arm. They weren’t his anymore.
He supposed he should go. He didn’t really have any reason to hang around. Pack up his bags, pull his name down from the door, get into his car and drive away, never to return to the set that had felt so familiar over the past few years.
Pull yourself together, he scolded himself. It’s not like you’ve died. It’s not like you’ve been fired; this was your own choice. This… self-pity and deprecation, it’s your own fault.
"And that’s supposed to make me feel better?" he said aloud, and then wondered if he was going mad.
Matt found this bit all rather tedious, actually. He was being told to stand in the exact same place as David which was, he couldn’t deny, rather hard.
"About a millimetre to the right, Matt."
A millimetre, he thought, irritated. How am I supposed to move a bloody millimetre?
"Okay, Matt, can you look at this image again and try to recreate this facial expression?"
Oh you’ve got to be kidding me, he thought as he slouched over to the screen with a close-up of David’s face on it. He mastered the physical expression well enough, but he couldn’t quite get the emotion in his eyes.
They’re going to hate me, he thought. I’m not good enough for this.
David hadn’t moved. Ten minutes later, he was still sat in his place. He wasn’t sure why. He guessed he wanted to see if someone would come to see him before he left. He snorted and tipped his head back. "Yeah, right, why would they?"
Maybe to see if he was okay? Maybe to tell him he’d been brilliant, and would be missed? Maybe for one final last-minute autograph and picture? Maybe to kick him out and tell him his time was up, he had to leave? Most likely the latter, he thought miserably, and kicked the table before he could stop himself.
"Oh you wanker," he muttered to himself as he glared at the shards of the mug off the floor. "You stupid, wretched, wallowing idiot. What is wrong with you?"
Matt could hear David talking. He was about to knock on the door, but decided just to listen instead. He had initially thought the older man was on the phone, then realised that maybe he was talking to himself.
There was a crash, then, "oh you wanker. You stupid, wretched, wallowing idiot. What is wrong with you?"
Nothing more was said, and Matt knocked. He stopped at three. No need to push it.
David couldn’t lie, when he head the knocking on the door, he really thought it would be four times. Then he would wrench the door open, have a good old scream at the divvy runner standing there, and flounce off to his car like some diva from an eighties glam rock comedy film.
Or not, he thought, as he opened the door.
It wasn’t a runner. Matt Smith was taller than he looked, only half an inch shorted than David, and he seemed to be very nervous. He tried a small smile, which David returned, despite the stupid emotions running through his body.
"Hi," the younger man said softly, holding his hand out. "Matt Smith."
"Yeah?" David asked. "Never heard of you." He was trying to be jokey and light-hearted, but it fell flat past the lump in his throat. Matt looked a little bit disappointed, so he opened the door wider. "Do you want to come in?"
The first thing Matt saw was the suit. He gave it a soft smile and ran his hand over it before sitting down as David offered.
The Scotsman didn’t sit. Instead, he leant against the ‘wall’ that divided the kitchen and this room, Matt supposed, the lounge. He smiled though, and Matt returned it, before his eyes fell on the shards of pottery,
"Oh, yeah," David said awkwardly. "I kind of got into a fight. With the, erm, with the table." He ran his hands through his hair.
"You were great," Matt said softly. He didn’t need to elaborate on what David was great at; it certainly wasn’t the fight with the table. "You were absolutely brilliant."
David smiled to himself.
"No, I mean it, you were. I’m not trying to replace you. Well, I mean, I am, I am replacing you, but… Oh, you know, don’t you?"
David smiled again, and nodded.
"But I can’t be you. Just like you couldn’t be, I don’t know, Baker or Eccleston, that’s not how it works. Loads of people will still prefer you to me, it’s just…" He broke off and laughed breathily. "I don’t know what I’m trying to say here. I’m your successor, and that’s that. It’s nothing personal."
"I never thought it was," David replied, moving to sit beside him. "It’s just how television works, just how these things go. It’s just… weird. You’re sat next to me in my trademark outfit, I mean. It… It’s just weird," he repeated. Matt nodded.
"It felt weird, putting it on. Until then it had only really felt like a dream, not like it was really happening."
"Exactly," David said. There was a pause, then he cleared his throat. "I think you’ll be fine." Matt glanced at him. "Oh yeah, there’s always some fans who are a bit iffy about the change, but that’s the point of this show, that’s what makes it so brilliant. People will love you too, honestly. And it’s not like I had a poor run or anything," he added with a laugh. "And now people have you to look forward to. Something different, something new. It’s great."
Matt nodded, and found himself reaching over and laying his hand on David’s knee. "I’m glad I managed to catch up with you. I saw you before, and wanted to talk, you seemed a bit miserable."
David smiled, and shook his head. "Yeah. These past few months I’ve been stopping and thinking, what are you doing? This has been the best time of your life, why are you quitting? I’ve had to physically stop myself going to Russell and just saying I’ve changed my mind, I’m staying. But then I think, oh stop being a baby, you’ve made up your mind so deal with it." After a pause, he placed his hands on Matt’s, wrapping his fingers around the younger man’s palm. Matt smiled to himself, but didn’t speak. "And you’ll be brilliant, you will."
"I’m just a bit nervous that they’ll take one look at me and go, nah, I don’t like him, we want Tennant back," Matt muttered, looking at his feet. "You’re going to be such a hard one to follow."
"And people said that about Pertwee," David laughed. "And then look at Baker. And then the same for him, and then we had Davison… And for me, after Eccleston… It just comes with the show, you shrug it off and you show that you’re brilliant and you’re away." Matt nodded, but he didn’t seem convinced. "Hey," David continued, and without really thinking about it, he placed his free hand under Matt’s chin and made him look up. The older man’s brown eyes glittered with a warmth Matt immediately found comforting, and he bit his lip.
David swallowed, trying to regain his train of thought. It was sort of muddled. Matt’s skin looked soft, flushed with nerves and perhaps embarrassment, and David desperately tried to resist licking his cheek, because… Well, that would be creepy. So, in an attempt to distract himself, he looked at the younger man’s lips.
Mistake.
"Hey?" Matt asked, encouraging him to continue.
"Uh… I, uh, well, just, you know… Confidence, confidence and the right attitude, and you don’t need to worry, Matt, you’ll be fine. No, scrap that, you’ll be brilliant."
"I just want people to like me," Matt said honestly, and David moved his hand from the younger man’s chin, instead slipping it around his shoulders and pulling him against him. Matt sighed, and rested his head on David’s shoulder.
"Look, Stephen and the writers and the directors and the producers all believe in you. All you’ve got to do is believe in yourself."
"What about you?" Matt asked quietly, lifting his head up to look back into David’s deep eyes. "Do you believe in me?"
"Oh," David said, grinning and rubbing Matt’s back. "Infinitely."
And Matt, suddenly overcome with courage and guts and determination and possibly an embarrassing sense of infatuation, crashed his lips against the older man’s, and kissed him as though his life depended on it.
David started, taken aback by the sudden action. Matt stopped, and felt panic and horror bubbling in his chest, and prepared to move back, and perhaps jump up and run, when without warning he felt a hand on the back of his neck and the other pair of lips kissing him back.
Well, this was new. Somewhat sloppy, a little bit warm, and very wet, but not exactly unpleasant. Neither Matt nor David chose to dwell on what that might mean, and decided simply to go with the flow. The flow which seemed to include David’s hand beneath Matt’s shirt and Matt’s hand on David’s thigh, and moving higher.
Before either of them could begin to panic about what came next, however, there was a knock on the trailer door, and a voice called through, informing David that a couple more scenes needed to be re-shot, and he had to get back to the set ASAP. Matt pulled away reluctantly, but was slightly pleased with himself that David tried to follow him a little way.
"Go on," Matt said softly, punctuating his words with soft kisses on the older man’s lips. "I need to get back soon, anyway. My girlfriend…"
"Yeah," David interrupted quickly. "Mine too."
They stood up quickly, brushed themselves down, and David walked to the door. "Just give it a couple of minutes," he suggested. Matt nodded, and then the door was closing and David was gone.
Matt waited for a few seconds, then kicked the table, wondering why the fucking fuck he had brought up his girlfriend. As if you did after you just kissed another man. As if you did after you just kissed David Tennant. He gave the table another quick kick, caught the mug just before it fell - Matt, one; David, nil - and then spotted a pad of sticky-notes, and a pen.
He knew that this would be one of those things that if you thought about too much you’d never be brave enough to do, so he shut his eyes and scribbled his name and phone number in what he hoped was legible writing, then left the trailer, feeling almost like every eye in the world was watching him. He gently touched a finger to his lips, thinking, and decided he didn’t really care.