A Single String Between Tin Cans
Title: A Single String Between Tin Cans
Author: housemaid79
Pairing/Characters: The Doctor (10th), Donna
Potential Spoilers: The Unicorn and the Wasp
Rating: PG
A/N: Done for the first round/challenge of whoverse_las The prompt was "miscommunication"
“And we couldn’t have watched the DVD because…” Donna asks, in a voice not-quite-hushed-enough as the lights dim.
“Because, Donna Noble, DVDs don’t come with real-butter-popcorn or,” and here he bounces in place, “red velvet seats.”
“Honestly, you’re like a bleedin’ little kid - sometimes I think you’re nine and not nine-hundred.” She rolls her eyes, but can’t stop herself returning his smile. Infectious, it is. “So why this movie…I mean, Paul Newman’s gorgeous an’ all, but something tells me you didn’t take me to 1967 so I could gaze into his baby blues.”
“Donna.”
“Yes Doctor?”
“Watch the movie.”
**
A little over two hours later and they are walking in companionable silence. Which Donna promptly breaks.
“Alright, so I watched your movie. You gonna tell me what’s so all-fired wonderful about it now?”
“Cool Hand Luke has one of the most famous quotes in the history of movies, number eleven on the American Film Institute’s list…” The Doctor is silent for a moment, as though he is letting this weighty information settle. When he does speak again, it’s in an awkward parody of Newman’s Georgian accent. “What we’ve got here is a failure to communicate.”
Donna raises an eyebrow.
“Miscommunication is the catalyst for much of history,” he continues, ditching the accent and sounding like he is quoting someone else now.
Likely himself, Donna thinks with a snort.
He turns back to face her.
“Think about it Donna, I mean really think about it,” his voice grows as distant as the look in his eyes. “So much hangs on something so flimsy - the weight of the universe balanced on a single string between tin cans.”
“So that’s what the movie’s about. Communication.” Donna says with a look that adds, and you brought me through space and time for this because..?
He gives an exasperated sigh. “No, actually it’s about the inability to conform, but…that’s not the point.” He rubs two fingers over an eye. “The point I’m trying to make is communication…or, in this case apparently, lack thereof.”
“Right. Communication. Got it.” She says a little over-brightly and gives a thumbs-up. “Now can we go see some proper aliens...or is it still lecture time?”
He sighs, the import of what he’s trying to say clearly lost on her.
“Donna,” and he looks truly frustrated now, “Donna, when there’s miscommunication, wars start, people…people die.” You could die. Unsaid, it hangs in the air like yesterday’s wash. “Life with me is dangerous.”
“An’ I get that. Really, I do.” She is serious now, finally recognizing his mood. “Next time you say ‘don’t wander off’ I’ll listen, okay?”
“It’s not just the wandering off…so many things can happen…” He turns to face her. “English country side, meet Agatha Christy - fairly tame, you’d think. I end up being poisoned, and you’re attacked by a giant alien wasp!”
“I know Doctor, and I still signed up for this life. So…instead of trying to keep me out of those life-or-death situations - ‘cause we both know that’ll never work - tell me what I need to know next time I’m in one. Communicate with me, yeah?”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re brilliant, Donna Noble?” His grin nearly splits his face in two and he pulls her into a hug.
She laughs into his chest, “I love you too, Doctor.”
His grin slips a little as he releases her. “Donna, you know I - “
“Oi! Not like that, you git!” She swats his shoulder, “Blimey, but you don’t half fancy yourself, do ya?
“Oh. Right then,” he says, brilliant smile back in place, “Now, which planet to next? Oohhh, we could hit the beach! I’ve heard…” He sets off in the general direction of the TARDIS, stops mid-sentence when he realizes Donna isn’t moving. “What?”
She darts a meaningful glance up to the theater marquee and back to him. He follows Donna’s gaze. An expression of horror fixes itself on his face.
“Oh no, I’m not…I thought you wanted to go somewhere with ‘proper aliens’…it’s not even historically accurate!” His voice lowers as he tries to convey the full horror of what she’s asking. “There’s singing, Donna. Singing.”
Donna brushes off his protests, aims an index finger at his chest. “Listen mate, I just sat through two hours of a Georgia prison movie so you could tell me something that should’ve taken all of two minutes. Be glad all I’m askin’ for is Camelot!”
The Doctor mumbles something that sounds like, “Three hours of this…it’ll feel like prison.”
He looks almost in pain.
She softens after a moment and switches tactics, “C’mon, it’ll be fun...you can tell me the dirt on what really happened between Lancelot and Guinevere. I’ll even spring for another tub of that real-butter popcorn.”
He brightens considerably at this last promise and turns back toward the theater.
She rolls her eyes, albeit affectionately, “Complete rubbish at talking about how you feel and ruled by your stomach. Space man or not, you are such a bloke.”
Author: housemaid79
Pairing/Characters: The Doctor (10th), Donna
Potential Spoilers: The Unicorn and the Wasp
Rating: PG
A/N: Done for the first round/challenge of whoverse_las The prompt was "miscommunication"
“And we couldn’t have watched the DVD because…” Donna asks, in a voice not-quite-hushed-enough as the lights dim.
“Because, Donna Noble, DVDs don’t come with real-butter-popcorn or,” and here he bounces in place, “red velvet seats.”
“Honestly, you’re like a bleedin’ little kid - sometimes I think you’re nine and not nine-hundred.” She rolls her eyes, but can’t stop herself returning his smile. Infectious, it is. “So why this movie…I mean, Paul Newman’s gorgeous an’ all, but something tells me you didn’t take me to 1967 so I could gaze into his baby blues.”
“Donna.”
“Yes Doctor?”
“Watch the movie.”
**
A little over two hours later and they are walking in companionable silence. Which Donna promptly breaks.
“Alright, so I watched your movie. You gonna tell me what’s so all-fired wonderful about it now?”
“Cool Hand Luke has one of the most famous quotes in the history of movies, number eleven on the American Film Institute’s list…” The Doctor is silent for a moment, as though he is letting this weighty information settle. When he does speak again, it’s in an awkward parody of Newman’s Georgian accent. “What we’ve got here is a failure to communicate.”
Donna raises an eyebrow.
“Miscommunication is the catalyst for much of history,” he continues, ditching the accent and sounding like he is quoting someone else now.
Likely himself, Donna thinks with a snort.
He turns back to face her.
“Think about it Donna, I mean really think about it,” his voice grows as distant as the look in his eyes. “So much hangs on something so flimsy - the weight of the universe balanced on a single string between tin cans.”
“So that’s what the movie’s about. Communication.” Donna says with a look that adds, and you brought me through space and time for this because..?
He gives an exasperated sigh. “No, actually it’s about the inability to conform, but…that’s not the point.” He rubs two fingers over an eye. “The point I’m trying to make is communication…or, in this case apparently, lack thereof.”
“Right. Communication. Got it.” She says a little over-brightly and gives a thumbs-up. “Now can we go see some proper aliens...or is it still lecture time?”
He sighs, the import of what he’s trying to say clearly lost on her.
“Donna,” and he looks truly frustrated now, “Donna, when there’s miscommunication, wars start, people…people die.” You could die. Unsaid, it hangs in the air like yesterday’s wash. “Life with me is dangerous.”
“An’ I get that. Really, I do.” She is serious now, finally recognizing his mood. “Next time you say ‘don’t wander off’ I’ll listen, okay?”
“It’s not just the wandering off…so many things can happen…” He turns to face her. “English country side, meet Agatha Christy - fairly tame, you’d think. I end up being poisoned, and you’re attacked by a giant alien wasp!”
“I know Doctor, and I still signed up for this life. So…instead of trying to keep me out of those life-or-death situations - ‘cause we both know that’ll never work - tell me what I need to know next time I’m in one. Communicate with me, yeah?”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re brilliant, Donna Noble?” His grin nearly splits his face in two and he pulls her into a hug.
She laughs into his chest, “I love you too, Doctor.”
His grin slips a little as he releases her. “Donna, you know I - “
“Oi! Not like that, you git!” She swats his shoulder, “Blimey, but you don’t half fancy yourself, do ya?
“Oh. Right then,” he says, brilliant smile back in place, “Now, which planet to next? Oohhh, we could hit the beach! I’ve heard…” He sets off in the general direction of the TARDIS, stops mid-sentence when he realizes Donna isn’t moving. “What?”
She darts a meaningful glance up to the theater marquee and back to him. He follows Donna’s gaze. An expression of horror fixes itself on his face.
“Oh no, I’m not…I thought you wanted to go somewhere with ‘proper aliens’…it’s not even historically accurate!” His voice lowers as he tries to convey the full horror of what she’s asking. “There’s singing, Donna. Singing.”
Donna brushes off his protests, aims an index finger at his chest. “Listen mate, I just sat through two hours of a Georgia prison movie so you could tell me something that should’ve taken all of two minutes. Be glad all I’m askin’ for is Camelot!”
The Doctor mumbles something that sounds like, “Three hours of this…it’ll feel like prison.”
He looks almost in pain.
She softens after a moment and switches tactics, “C’mon, it’ll be fun...you can tell me the dirt on what really happened between Lancelot and Guinevere. I’ll even spring for another tub of that real-butter popcorn.”
He brightens considerably at this last promise and turns back toward the theater.
She rolls her eyes, albeit affectionately, “Complete rubbish at talking about how you feel and ruled by your stomach. Space man or not, you are such a bloke.”