Daft and Dashing In the Delta
Title: Daft and Dashing in the Delta.
Written For: thette
Rating: G.
Beta: The old ball and chain lovely dave7
Spoilers: Set after Journey's End.
Prompts: "I'll show them all!" and a few old!school references. I wasn't too sure where to go with these, because they were fairly general prompts, so I hope the fic is alright. *g*
Author's Note: Unforgivably late, and I apologise both to thette and the mods, who have been brilliant and polite, when they should have been snarling at me and whacking me with pitchforks. It's quite cracky, sorry.
Summary: The Doctor and Rose take a short break from saving the world and instead set their sights on distant and exotic Botswana. With nought but a dodgy old car that's always stuck in third gear, a driver with no sense of direction and their somewhat addled wits, how long will they last?
“They all said we were going to die,” the Doctor grumbled as he viciously chopped up a carrot, cutting it into erratically sized chunks. “The whole team! They’re betting on how long we’ll last. Your mum said that she’d have to come and rescue us. Ha! Jackie Tyler! Rescue us! I think not!”
Rose, paying careful attention to both the bubbling pot of pasta and the Doctor’s fingers, ignored the jibe at her mother. Instead, she slipped her hand to the small of the Doctor’s back and rubbed in little, gentle circles. That seemed to sooth him somewhat, so she slipped her thumb beneath the material to ghost over his skin.
“The nerve of them!” he spluttered. “I am a seasoned traveller! I have bounced my way all over this galaxy. Well…not this galaxy, per se, but I’ve been knocking around for a while now and let me tell you something, Rose Tyler! Botswana has nothing on Time and Space. Nothing! I managed to navigate my way through the marshes of Alzarius under the threat of the Marshmen, so I think that I can handle the Okavango Delta.” The Doctor paused for breath, then as an afterthought added, “even if it does have crocodiles.”
This was said with a dangerously theatrical wave of his knife, and when he abandoned the poor maligned carrot for a moment to tend to the spaghetti, she surreptitiously switched the serrated silver for a butter-knife.
The Doctor, so caught up in his whinge, didn’t seem to notice, and returned to attacking the carrot with gusto. “As if I would ever let anything hurt you.”
He seemed so injured and upset by his colleague’s belief that he couldn’t take care of her that Rose cuddled up to his side, resting her chin on his shoulder. He had no choice but to stop chopping, with his arm effectively trapped by her body. His method of venting his frustrations now made physically impossible, he settled instead for frowning and looking down sulkily at the carrot. It was now almost entirely mush and completely inedible.
With a sigh, Rose scooped it up from the chopping board and lobbed it at the bin. “Come on, you.” She uncurled herself from around his side and tugged him out of the kitchen by his arm. He went with her docilely, still completely caught up in his grump. It was only when she plopped his newly acquired sunhat on his head that he began to pay attention; they were by their front door, next to the coat rack.
“Oi!” he protested, moving to take it off but finding the way blocked by her gently slapping hands. He tried to twist away from her, but the little corks that hung on strings, interspersed along the brim to ward off flies, knocked him on the nose. “Bloody hell, this thing is lethal.”
Rose felt her heart break a little for him. He’d been so excited by his new hat over breakfast, even if it was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever seen. To see him so affected by the teasing of their team members, to see him embarrassed by his hat, made her angry.
“No, this thing is sexy. Combine this with those water-proof trousers that you bought? You know, the ones that fisherman wear?” At the Doctor’s somewhat sheepish grin of acknowledgment, she continued. “Well, I might just not be able to stop myself from kissing you.” She manoeuvred her way underneath the ridiculously large brim and between the jiggling corks to press her lips to his.
The Doctor responded immediately to her touch, wrapping his arms around her waist and squashing the canvas hat against her cheek and his brow. “I’ll show them! I’ll keep you safe, Rose,” he whispered against her lips. “We’ve been all over the place, you and I!” Gaining momentum in his ascension from his sulk, he began to snog her more and more enthusiastically. By the time he had her pressed up against the wall of their hallway, he was as cheerful about their impending adventure to Africa as he’d ever been.
“I’ll keep you safe, Rose. I’ll show them all!”
. . . .
“Ah,” the Doctor said calmly, in a manner that didn’t do justice by half to the sticky situation that he and his love were currently in. “Fiddlesticks.” His knuckles where white as he tightly gripped the steering wheel of the car that he’d just driven into water that was much deeper than he’d anticipated.
Sat beside him, Rose glowered at all and sundry; but mostly at him. “Fiddlesticks? That’s all you’ve got to say?”
“I suppose, I could also…” The Doctor gulped and scratched his nose idly with one hand. “I would also like to add that I’m sorry, and that you were right. I was wrong, and you were right. We shouldn’t have tried to cross here.” He looked at her imploringly. “Would that be an appropriate thing to say?”
Rose didn’t deign to respond; rather she shifted awkwardly in her seat, tucking her legs underneath her bottom as the cold, murky water of the Okavango Delta began to leak into the car and pool around her toes.
The Doctor began to do the same, eyeing the water distastefully.
“What’re you doing!?” Rose thundered in disbelief. “How are you supposed to reach the clutch if your feet are on your chair?” She grumbled under her breath, “I knew I should have driven.”
A touch embarrassed, the Doctor dropped his feet back to the floor, hissing when the cold water trickled through the holes in his chucks and seeped between his toes. His shoe slid off the clutch the first time he tried to facilitate changing gear, but he eventually managed to plant the rubber securely on the pedal. Once he’d done the same with the accelerator, he reached for the gearstick - only to have his hand slapped away.
“No, no, you’ll only end up stuck in third. I don’t know what it is about you, but you’re always in third gear and this time we really need reverse. Ok, gently, gently, on three: one, two…THREE!”
The Doctor eased off the clutch and pressed tentatively on the accelerator, but the gearstick just moved from slot to slot like a straw in a cup of water; freely. The front wheels span uselessly.
The back wheels however, which were just barely gripping the muddy bank, rolled against the muck. The unsuccessful gear-change meant that the car propelled not backwards, but forwards. Into deeper water.
For a second, the car felt as if it was floating as it rested on absolutely nothing. Then…it felt quite the opposite.
“Ah-”
“If you say fiddlesticks again, I swear-”
“I wasn’t going to,” the Doctor said sulkily, rapidly descending into a grump. He fidgeted as the water, now well past his ankles, began to soak into his trousers.
Rose sighed and snatched the satellite phone out of the glove-box. “Well, I suppose it’s out the window then. Grab whatever you can from the back. I’ll work on the phone.”
To the Doctor’s horrified astonishment, she proceeded to pick up his plastic sandwich-bag and dump the contents into the murky water. With a noise of satisfaction, she managed to fit the phone inside and squeezed the suction strip tightly between her fingers, sealing it.
The Doctor sat frozen for a few seconds, during which time the water reached his knees, before launching himself forward to stare desperately into the murky liquid. “My jelly babies,” he said mournfully as he watched them sink slowly to the bottom of the car. He could have sworn that a bright pink one glared at him reproachfully as he kept his kept his gaze on it, until it too disappeared.
Rose, who knew how cherished the jelly babies were to him, patted his hand gently, abandoning her anger with him for a minute. “We’ll buy you some more when we get to Seronga.” She didn’t point out that the chances of being able to buy such luxurious sweeties in a small town in northern Botswana were slim.
He clung to the promise like a life-line nonetheless. “It occurs to me, you know, that I haven’t been particularly dashing during this little fiasco.”
Rose had to fight the urge to smile, even as the water began to lick at her elbows. “No, but you’ve been particularly daft, so I think all is well.”
The Doctor gave her a little smile, but his eyes crinkled not out of amusement but rather injured feelings. “Yes, I suppose that’s true. I promised I’d keep you safe, and then I went and drove right into the river. I thought this bit looked the most shallow, but obviously I was wrong.”
Fighting the urge to groan about his choice of time for a heart-to-heart, Rose curled her fingers around his and squeezed. “Nobody takes better care of me than you do. I wouldn’t have you any other way, my daft and dashing Doctor. Besides, if I’m going to get into trouble with anybody, you’re the only one I want to be in trouble with. Otherwise, it’s just not worth it.”
He looked up at her hesitantly, his nose mere inches from hers and for a second they both lived in shared memory; running around in pink heels, black corsets, orange space suits - times of terror, yes, but a terror lessened by hands held tightly. Times of friendship and love. Their beginning.
Eventually, something slimy flitted past Rose’s arm and she decided that they really couldn’t dilly-dally in the rapidly sinking car any longer.
With a decisive nod, Rose tucked the satellite phone into the inner pocket of her jacket and gave his fingers a tug. She was just about to slither out of the window and into the waiting water when she remembered with startling clarity something that he had mentioned a long time ago, back in their kitchen.
“Hang on - did you say something about crocodiles!?”
The Okavango Delta, Botswana
Yes, this was inspired by the lovely Richard Hammond and his trusty Oliver.
Written For: thette
Rating: G.
Beta: The old ball and chain lovely dave7
Spoilers: Set after Journey's End.
Prompts: "I'll show them all!" and a few old!school references. I wasn't too sure where to go with these, because they were fairly general prompts, so I hope the fic is alright. *g*
Author's Note: Unforgivably late, and I apologise both to thette and the mods, who have been brilliant and polite, when they should have been snarling at me and whacking me with pitchforks. It's quite cracky, sorry.
Summary: The Doctor and Rose take a short break from saving the world and instead set their sights on distant and exotic Botswana. With nought but a dodgy old car that's always stuck in third gear, a driver with no sense of direction and their somewhat addled wits, how long will they last?
“They all said we were going to die,” the Doctor grumbled as he viciously chopped up a carrot, cutting it into erratically sized chunks. “The whole team! They’re betting on how long we’ll last. Your mum said that she’d have to come and rescue us. Ha! Jackie Tyler! Rescue us! I think not!”
Rose, paying careful attention to both the bubbling pot of pasta and the Doctor’s fingers, ignored the jibe at her mother. Instead, she slipped her hand to the small of the Doctor’s back and rubbed in little, gentle circles. That seemed to sooth him somewhat, so she slipped her thumb beneath the material to ghost over his skin.
“The nerve of them!” he spluttered. “I am a seasoned traveller! I have bounced my way all over this galaxy. Well…not this galaxy, per se, but I’ve been knocking around for a while now and let me tell you something, Rose Tyler! Botswana has nothing on Time and Space. Nothing! I managed to navigate my way through the marshes of Alzarius under the threat of the Marshmen, so I think that I can handle the Okavango Delta.” The Doctor paused for breath, then as an afterthought added, “even if it does have crocodiles.”
This was said with a dangerously theatrical wave of his knife, and when he abandoned the poor maligned carrot for a moment to tend to the spaghetti, she surreptitiously switched the serrated silver for a butter-knife.
The Doctor, so caught up in his whinge, didn’t seem to notice, and returned to attacking the carrot with gusto. “As if I would ever let anything hurt you.”
He seemed so injured and upset by his colleague’s belief that he couldn’t take care of her that Rose cuddled up to his side, resting her chin on his shoulder. He had no choice but to stop chopping, with his arm effectively trapped by her body. His method of venting his frustrations now made physically impossible, he settled instead for frowning and looking down sulkily at the carrot. It was now almost entirely mush and completely inedible.
With a sigh, Rose scooped it up from the chopping board and lobbed it at the bin. “Come on, you.” She uncurled herself from around his side and tugged him out of the kitchen by his arm. He went with her docilely, still completely caught up in his grump. It was only when she plopped his newly acquired sunhat on his head that he began to pay attention; they were by their front door, next to the coat rack.
“Oi!” he protested, moving to take it off but finding the way blocked by her gently slapping hands. He tried to twist away from her, but the little corks that hung on strings, interspersed along the brim to ward off flies, knocked him on the nose. “Bloody hell, this thing is lethal.”
Rose felt her heart break a little for him. He’d been so excited by his new hat over breakfast, even if it was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever seen. To see him so affected by the teasing of their team members, to see him embarrassed by his hat, made her angry.
“No, this thing is sexy. Combine this with those water-proof trousers that you bought? You know, the ones that fisherman wear?” At the Doctor’s somewhat sheepish grin of acknowledgment, she continued. “Well, I might just not be able to stop myself from kissing you.” She manoeuvred her way underneath the ridiculously large brim and between the jiggling corks to press her lips to his.
The Doctor responded immediately to her touch, wrapping his arms around her waist and squashing the canvas hat against her cheek and his brow. “I’ll show them! I’ll keep you safe, Rose,” he whispered against her lips. “We’ve been all over the place, you and I!” Gaining momentum in his ascension from his sulk, he began to snog her more and more enthusiastically. By the time he had her pressed up against the wall of their hallway, he was as cheerful about their impending adventure to Africa as he’d ever been.
“I’ll keep you safe, Rose. I’ll show them all!”
. . . .
“Ah,” the Doctor said calmly, in a manner that didn’t do justice by half to the sticky situation that he and his love were currently in. “Fiddlesticks.” His knuckles where white as he tightly gripped the steering wheel of the car that he’d just driven into water that was much deeper than he’d anticipated.
Sat beside him, Rose glowered at all and sundry; but mostly at him. “Fiddlesticks? That’s all you’ve got to say?”
“I suppose, I could also…” The Doctor gulped and scratched his nose idly with one hand. “I would also like to add that I’m sorry, and that you were right. I was wrong, and you were right. We shouldn’t have tried to cross here.” He looked at her imploringly. “Would that be an appropriate thing to say?”
Rose didn’t deign to respond; rather she shifted awkwardly in her seat, tucking her legs underneath her bottom as the cold, murky water of the Okavango Delta began to leak into the car and pool around her toes.
The Doctor began to do the same, eyeing the water distastefully.
“What’re you doing!?” Rose thundered in disbelief. “How are you supposed to reach the clutch if your feet are on your chair?” She grumbled under her breath, “I knew I should have driven.”
A touch embarrassed, the Doctor dropped his feet back to the floor, hissing when the cold water trickled through the holes in his chucks and seeped between his toes. His shoe slid off the clutch the first time he tried to facilitate changing gear, but he eventually managed to plant the rubber securely on the pedal. Once he’d done the same with the accelerator, he reached for the gearstick - only to have his hand slapped away.
“No, no, you’ll only end up stuck in third. I don’t know what it is about you, but you’re always in third gear and this time we really need reverse. Ok, gently, gently, on three: one, two…THREE!”
The Doctor eased off the clutch and pressed tentatively on the accelerator, but the gearstick just moved from slot to slot like a straw in a cup of water; freely. The front wheels span uselessly.
The back wheels however, which were just barely gripping the muddy bank, rolled against the muck. The unsuccessful gear-change meant that the car propelled not backwards, but forwards. Into deeper water.
For a second, the car felt as if it was floating as it rested on absolutely nothing. Then…it felt quite the opposite.
“Ah-”
“If you say fiddlesticks again, I swear-”
“I wasn’t going to,” the Doctor said sulkily, rapidly descending into a grump. He fidgeted as the water, now well past his ankles, began to soak into his trousers.
Rose sighed and snatched the satellite phone out of the glove-box. “Well, I suppose it’s out the window then. Grab whatever you can from the back. I’ll work on the phone.”
To the Doctor’s horrified astonishment, she proceeded to pick up his plastic sandwich-bag and dump the contents into the murky water. With a noise of satisfaction, she managed to fit the phone inside and squeezed the suction strip tightly between her fingers, sealing it.
The Doctor sat frozen for a few seconds, during which time the water reached his knees, before launching himself forward to stare desperately into the murky liquid. “My jelly babies,” he said mournfully as he watched them sink slowly to the bottom of the car. He could have sworn that a bright pink one glared at him reproachfully as he kept his kept his gaze on it, until it too disappeared.
Rose, who knew how cherished the jelly babies were to him, patted his hand gently, abandoning her anger with him for a minute. “We’ll buy you some more when we get to Seronga.” She didn’t point out that the chances of being able to buy such luxurious sweeties in a small town in northern Botswana were slim.
He clung to the promise like a life-line nonetheless. “It occurs to me, you know, that I haven’t been particularly dashing during this little fiasco.”
Rose had to fight the urge to smile, even as the water began to lick at her elbows. “No, but you’ve been particularly daft, so I think all is well.”
The Doctor gave her a little smile, but his eyes crinkled not out of amusement but rather injured feelings. “Yes, I suppose that’s true. I promised I’d keep you safe, and then I went and drove right into the river. I thought this bit looked the most shallow, but obviously I was wrong.”
Fighting the urge to groan about his choice of time for a heart-to-heart, Rose curled her fingers around his and squeezed. “Nobody takes better care of me than you do. I wouldn’t have you any other way, my daft and dashing Doctor. Besides, if I’m going to get into trouble with anybody, you’re the only one I want to be in trouble with. Otherwise, it’s just not worth it.”
He looked up at her hesitantly, his nose mere inches from hers and for a second they both lived in shared memory; running around in pink heels, black corsets, orange space suits - times of terror, yes, but a terror lessened by hands held tightly. Times of friendship and love. Their beginning.
Eventually, something slimy flitted past Rose’s arm and she decided that they really couldn’t dilly-dally in the rapidly sinking car any longer.
With a decisive nod, Rose tucked the satellite phone into the inner pocket of her jacket and gave his fingers a tug. She was just about to slither out of the window and into the waiting water when she remembered with startling clarity something that he had mentioned a long time ago, back in their kitchen.
“Hang on - did you say something about crocodiles!?”
The Okavango Delta, Botswana
Yes, this was inspired by the lovely Richard Hammond and his trusty Oliver.