And They Soniced Happily Ever After
Title: And They Soniced Happily Ever After
Characters: Donna, Sean, Martha, Mickey
Rating: G
Summary: Life with a Semi Time Lord. Plotlessness in 1200 words. Post EoT
Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N:
This was born of my reaction to Donna’s shooty ring of golden light when her brain overloaded. Said reaction was: “Woah! Her powers of regeneration are so much cooler than the Doctor’s.” Well, I was proven wrong by canon insofar as it wasn't regeneration but I don't see why that should stop me. Everything’s fair in love, war and crack fic, I say.
And They Soniced Happily Ever After
How to tell your husband that you’re not exactly 100% human because some git of a Martian has the sloppy habit of leaving his severed limbs lying around in easily accessible places is not something many women have to worry about. If there were any such women, they’d probably not choose the wedding night to tell their betrothed about it.
To his credit it must be said that Sean took it in stride and accepted readily that his wife had a penchant for tinkering with the kitchen appliances and other electronics. He didn’t mind that the water kettle occasionally didn’t boil water but had excellent reception of radio Alpha Centauri. He put his foot down though when their oven acquired a personality and started yelling at them about eating so much fast food. Donna acquiesced, undid the oven’s AI, and set about making the pantry bigger on the inside.
When they won the lottery a week after their wedding, they didn’t quite know what to do with the money. They didn’t need to buy a house as Donna had fit a six-room condo into their wardrobe by that time. The car needed no replacing as Donna had been working on it that Wednesday and, while it didn’t yet manage displacement in time, it worked a treat in relative space. In the end, they gave a part of the money to charity, spent a part on a great honeymoon, used the rest for living and to buy whatever gadgets Donna needed for her tinkering.
Having a semi Time Lord for a wife, though, had some disadvantages as Sean quickly found out.
“Exterminate. Exterminate.”
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me! There’s still some of you left? You’re like cockroaches. Can’t be killed.”
In backing away, Sean accidentally trod on the remote for their DVD-Recorder, which exploded with a sonic boom that took out the four Daleks in their living room while leaving the human and semi-human unharmed. He looked at the smoking shells in a daze and turned to his wife. “What shall we do with them?”
Donna shrugged, unconcerned. “Slap a bit of colour on them and pretend that it’s art.”
Once they had dealt with the fourth alien invasion in their flat, the couple decided they might as well do this full time.
“Martha! Mickey! Fancy meeting you here.”
“Donna? What- Why- How?”
“Long story short: The Doctor’s an idiot. He suppressed the memories but I was still part Time Lord, so I got shafted with a part-regeneration.”
While Martha and Mickey stared at Donna open-mouthed, Sean took out some Rutans with Donna’s hair dryer that doubled as a laser gun.
Since the four kept running into each other on the job, they joined forces and founded a company. It worked out well. Donna invented things. Martha, Mickey, and Sean used them.
Occasionally, they travelled to Cardiff where they met up with Gwen and Rhys who ran a short-staffed Torchwood out of their basement. Since they didn’t charge their friends for helping them with Weevils, crazy time-space-rifts and whatever madcap things Cardiff had in store for them, they clocked that as charity work and paid less taxes; and any tax reduction was nothing to be sneezed at, as Donna said.
As much as they tried to, they couldn’t persuade Sarah Jane and her super computer to join their company. In a tiff, Donna built a super computer of her own and called it John Smith. Sarah Jane scoffed at it but Martha said the name was well chosen since their computer had the tendency to go bonkers and babble at them. Donna just slammed her fist on it to shut it up. This was usually followed by a lengthy session during which Donna and Martha aired their grievances with the Doctor. Mickey and Sean just looked at each other in those moments and retreated to the next pub.
“Don’t blink!” yelled Martha.
“What are you on about?” asked Mickey.
“Those statues,” said Martha with watery, but unblinking eyes. “They’re aliens. Can’t move as long as you look at them. Take your eyes off them and wham, they get to you.”
“They can’t move as long as you look at them? Bit rubbish, isn’t that?” asked Donna and calculatingly weighed a spanner in her hand. “You’re still looking at it?”
“Yup,” said Martha.
Donna smashed the statue’s head in. “There. Done. Anybody up for a cup of tea? I could also do with some sandwiches.”
“Don’t you think you should tell the Doctor that you’re well and part Time Lord?” asked Mickey while lounging in their wardrobe’s living room.
Donna didn’t look up from the phone she was working on. “Nah, he’d probably do something stupid again.”
“But he’s regenerated,” said Martha and handed Donna the sonic pen. “He might have got over being melodramatic and stupid.”
“Yeah, and pigs might fly,” said Donna distractedly. The phone exploded. Donna frowned at her sonic pen. “Must have used the wrong setting.”
Sean handed her his phone. “Since we’re cleaning up after him half of the time anyway, we might as well tell him.”
“Maybe some other time,” said Donna and started to work on her husband’s phone.
It took Donna three weeks and fourteen mobiles before she managed to establish a connection to a parallel universe. It then took another two weeks to establish a connection to the right parallel universe.
“Handy!” Donna grinned into the phone.
“Donna? Is that you? What? How?” From the other end of the line came spluttering.
“Part Time Lord,” sing-songed Donna. “Most brilliant mind in the universe. Need I remind you?”
“What’s the matter? Are the universes in danger again?” asked the one-hearted Time Lord anxiously.
“Nah, nothing we can’t handle,” said Donna. “Just wanted to hear how you’re doing. How are you? How’s Rose?”
“Fine. Fine,” answered the other kinda Time Lord. “We’re great actually. It’s fantastic to hear from you! How have you been?”
“Ah, you know how it is. Saving the universe, lots of running, couple of explosions. That kind of thing.”
“Oh yeah, seems no matter what universe - Earth is always a prime location for alien invasions.”
“At least you don’t have Mr Look At Me I’m Special ‘Cause I Got Two Hearts mucking things up.”
The Company had closed for the weekend and the men had decided this was enough cause for celebration at the local. A few pints later, they made their way back home in an almost straight line. The sight of their wives hiding behind bushes and giggling like ten-year-olds stopped them short.
“Donna?” asked Sean.
“Martha?” exclaimed Mickey.
“What...” said both but were rudely silenced by the women yanking them down and out of sight behind the bushes.
“Shhh,” whispered both women fiercely and turned again to watch a trash barrel with avid interest.
Sean regarded the trash barrel for a while but when nothing out of the ordinary happened, he asked in a whisper, “What’s about the bin?”
“TARDIS,” murmured Donna gleefully.
Mickey shook his head. “Doesn’t look like it.”
“Donna repaired the Chameleon Circuit,” said Martha with a slightly malicious grin. “Thrice the Doctor’s run past it already.”
Both women snickered.
The men looked at each other.
“Back to the pub?” asked Sean.
“Back to the pub,” agreed Mickey.
The End.
Characters: Donna, Sean, Martha, Mickey
Rating: G
Summary: Life with a Semi Time Lord. Plotlessness in 1200 words. Post EoT
Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N:
This was born of my reaction to Donna’s shooty ring of golden light when her brain overloaded. Said reaction was: “Woah! Her powers of regeneration are so much cooler than the Doctor’s.” Well, I was proven wrong by canon insofar as it wasn't regeneration but I don't see why that should stop me. Everything’s fair in love, war and crack fic, I say.
And They Soniced Happily Ever After
How to tell your husband that you’re not exactly 100% human because some git of a Martian has the sloppy habit of leaving his severed limbs lying around in easily accessible places is not something many women have to worry about. If there were any such women, they’d probably not choose the wedding night to tell their betrothed about it.
To his credit it must be said that Sean took it in stride and accepted readily that his wife had a penchant for tinkering with the kitchen appliances and other electronics. He didn’t mind that the water kettle occasionally didn’t boil water but had excellent reception of radio Alpha Centauri. He put his foot down though when their oven acquired a personality and started yelling at them about eating so much fast food. Donna acquiesced, undid the oven’s AI, and set about making the pantry bigger on the inside.
When they won the lottery a week after their wedding, they didn’t quite know what to do with the money. They didn’t need to buy a house as Donna had fit a six-room condo into their wardrobe by that time. The car needed no replacing as Donna had been working on it that Wednesday and, while it didn’t yet manage displacement in time, it worked a treat in relative space. In the end, they gave a part of the money to charity, spent a part on a great honeymoon, used the rest for living and to buy whatever gadgets Donna needed for her tinkering.
Having a semi Time Lord for a wife, though, had some disadvantages as Sean quickly found out.
“Exterminate. Exterminate.”
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me! There’s still some of you left? You’re like cockroaches. Can’t be killed.”
In backing away, Sean accidentally trod on the remote for their DVD-Recorder, which exploded with a sonic boom that took out the four Daleks in their living room while leaving the human and semi-human unharmed. He looked at the smoking shells in a daze and turned to his wife. “What shall we do with them?”
Donna shrugged, unconcerned. “Slap a bit of colour on them and pretend that it’s art.”
Once they had dealt with the fourth alien invasion in their flat, the couple decided they might as well do this full time.
“Martha! Mickey! Fancy meeting you here.”
“Donna? What- Why- How?”
“Long story short: The Doctor’s an idiot. He suppressed the memories but I was still part Time Lord, so I got shafted with a part-regeneration.”
While Martha and Mickey stared at Donna open-mouthed, Sean took out some Rutans with Donna’s hair dryer that doubled as a laser gun.
Since the four kept running into each other on the job, they joined forces and founded a company. It worked out well. Donna invented things. Martha, Mickey, and Sean used them.
Occasionally, they travelled to Cardiff where they met up with Gwen and Rhys who ran a short-staffed Torchwood out of their basement. Since they didn’t charge their friends for helping them with Weevils, crazy time-space-rifts and whatever madcap things Cardiff had in store for them, they clocked that as charity work and paid less taxes; and any tax reduction was nothing to be sneezed at, as Donna said.
As much as they tried to, they couldn’t persuade Sarah Jane and her super computer to join their company. In a tiff, Donna built a super computer of her own and called it John Smith. Sarah Jane scoffed at it but Martha said the name was well chosen since their computer had the tendency to go bonkers and babble at them. Donna just slammed her fist on it to shut it up. This was usually followed by a lengthy session during which Donna and Martha aired their grievances with the Doctor. Mickey and Sean just looked at each other in those moments and retreated to the next pub.
“Don’t blink!” yelled Martha.
“What are you on about?” asked Mickey.
“Those statues,” said Martha with watery, but unblinking eyes. “They’re aliens. Can’t move as long as you look at them. Take your eyes off them and wham, they get to you.”
“They can’t move as long as you look at them? Bit rubbish, isn’t that?” asked Donna and calculatingly weighed a spanner in her hand. “You’re still looking at it?”
“Yup,” said Martha.
Donna smashed the statue’s head in. “There. Done. Anybody up for a cup of tea? I could also do with some sandwiches.”
“Don’t you think you should tell the Doctor that you’re well and part Time Lord?” asked Mickey while lounging in their wardrobe’s living room.
Donna didn’t look up from the phone she was working on. “Nah, he’d probably do something stupid again.”
“But he’s regenerated,” said Martha and handed Donna the sonic pen. “He might have got over being melodramatic and stupid.”
“Yeah, and pigs might fly,” said Donna distractedly. The phone exploded. Donna frowned at her sonic pen. “Must have used the wrong setting.”
Sean handed her his phone. “Since we’re cleaning up after him half of the time anyway, we might as well tell him.”
“Maybe some other time,” said Donna and started to work on her husband’s phone.
It took Donna three weeks and fourteen mobiles before she managed to establish a connection to a parallel universe. It then took another two weeks to establish a connection to the right parallel universe.
“Handy!” Donna grinned into the phone.
“Donna? Is that you? What? How?” From the other end of the line came spluttering.
“Part Time Lord,” sing-songed Donna. “Most brilliant mind in the universe. Need I remind you?”
“What’s the matter? Are the universes in danger again?” asked the one-hearted Time Lord anxiously.
“Nah, nothing we can’t handle,” said Donna. “Just wanted to hear how you’re doing. How are you? How’s Rose?”
“Fine. Fine,” answered the other kinda Time Lord. “We’re great actually. It’s fantastic to hear from you! How have you been?”
“Ah, you know how it is. Saving the universe, lots of running, couple of explosions. That kind of thing.”
“Oh yeah, seems no matter what universe - Earth is always a prime location for alien invasions.”
“At least you don’t have Mr Look At Me I’m Special ‘Cause I Got Two Hearts mucking things up.”
The Company had closed for the weekend and the men had decided this was enough cause for celebration at the local. A few pints later, they made their way back home in an almost straight line. The sight of their wives hiding behind bushes and giggling like ten-year-olds stopped them short.
“Donna?” asked Sean.
“Martha?” exclaimed Mickey.
“What...” said both but were rudely silenced by the women yanking them down and out of sight behind the bushes.
“Shhh,” whispered both women fiercely and turned again to watch a trash barrel with avid interest.
Sean regarded the trash barrel for a while but when nothing out of the ordinary happened, he asked in a whisper, “What’s about the bin?”
“TARDIS,” murmured Donna gleefully.
Mickey shook his head. “Doesn’t look like it.”
“Donna repaired the Chameleon Circuit,” said Martha with a slightly malicious grin. “Thrice the Doctor’s run past it already.”
Both women snickered.
The men looked at each other.
“Back to the pub?” asked Sean.
“Back to the pub,” agreed Mickey.
The End.