Doctor Who ficlet: For What We Are About to Receive | Six, Peri | G
Title: For What We Are About to Receive
Author: rustydog
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: Sixth Doctor, Peri
Rating/warnings: rated G, no warnings unless you're Peri-resistant. (I know, I am too. This caught me completely off guard.)
Words: 433
Notes: I haven't had my Thanksgiving dinner yet, so I declare this ficlet to be still in season. I was unwilling to inflict it on any of my betas, so concrit is welcome! (Of course, concrit is always welcome.)
Summary: Peri wants to share her culture with the Doctor but would rather not introduce him to her family.
The Doctor hadn't seen Peri this excited in a good while; maybe he'd kept her away from Earth for too long.
"Isn't it perfect, Doctor?" she squeaked softly as they pulled on disposable gloves and paper hats. "We get to help people, there's a free turkey dinner when we're finished, and your clothes won't look out of place!"
He harrumphed a bit at that, but it was difficult to be irritated with the girl when she was obviously working so gamely not to be bothered by the odor of their 'guests,' some of whom were quite... piquant. A long queue of the unfortunate waited with plates in their hands.
Peri scooped mashed potatoes, the Doctor ladled gravy, and they quickly settled into a rhythm of serving and smiling, plate by plate. After awhile he leaned over and spoke into her ear above the din of a hundred people eating and talking. "You know, there's a traditional poem of thanks on Gallifrey," he said.
Peri's brow furrowed. "I thought Time Lords were too arrogant to give thanks. Who are they thankful to?"
The Doctor harrumphed just a bit more, but Peri wasn't wrong. In time-honored fashion, he ignored the question. "Just wait," he said, "I'll recite it for you after we eat."
It was meant to be a private performance. Therefore at the close of the meal, the Doctor wasn't quite sure how he wound up standing on a recently-cleared table, cheered on by the motley diners, performing some impressive-sounding rubbish about Omega and Rassilon, the Eye of Harmony, respiratory bypass sytems, and "all of time and space." The audience even called for an encore, and the Doctor located a long-disused recorder in one of his pockets.
When they finally managed to break away, they had to pick their way back through a rather grim alley where the TARDIS had parked itself. "Well the poem went well, I thought," the Doctor said cheerfully. "Very well received, wouldn't you say?"
"Doctor, the reason they were so nice is that they thought you were mentally ill!" Peri giggled.
As they approached the TARDIS, he decided not to point out what she had just stepped in.
Peri turned. "Doctor, was that a real Gallifreyan poem?" She was looking at him intently, head tilted and eyes narrowed.
The Doctor cleared his throat. "Well..."
Peri shook her head. "I don't care." She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. "Thank you," she said, smiling, "it was a good Thanksgiving." As she turned back to enter the TARDIS, she was humming a Gallifreyan tune.
Author: rustydog
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: Sixth Doctor, Peri
Rating/warnings: rated G, no warnings unless you're Peri-resistant. (I know, I am too. This caught me completely off guard.)
Words: 433
Notes: I haven't had my Thanksgiving dinner yet, so I declare this ficlet to be still in season. I was unwilling to inflict it on any of my betas, so concrit is welcome! (Of course, concrit is always welcome.)
Summary: Peri wants to share her culture with the Doctor but would rather not introduce him to her family.
The Doctor hadn't seen Peri this excited in a good while; maybe he'd kept her away from Earth for too long.
"Isn't it perfect, Doctor?" she squeaked softly as they pulled on disposable gloves and paper hats. "We get to help people, there's a free turkey dinner when we're finished, and your clothes won't look out of place!"
He harrumphed a bit at that, but it was difficult to be irritated with the girl when she was obviously working so gamely not to be bothered by the odor of their 'guests,' some of whom were quite... piquant. A long queue of the unfortunate waited with plates in their hands.
Peri scooped mashed potatoes, the Doctor ladled gravy, and they quickly settled into a rhythm of serving and smiling, plate by plate. After awhile he leaned over and spoke into her ear above the din of a hundred people eating and talking. "You know, there's a traditional poem of thanks on Gallifrey," he said.
Peri's brow furrowed. "I thought Time Lords were too arrogant to give thanks. Who are they thankful to?"
The Doctor harrumphed just a bit more, but Peri wasn't wrong. In time-honored fashion, he ignored the question. "Just wait," he said, "I'll recite it for you after we eat."
It was meant to be a private performance. Therefore at the close of the meal, the Doctor wasn't quite sure how he wound up standing on a recently-cleared table, cheered on by the motley diners, performing some impressive-sounding rubbish about Omega and Rassilon, the Eye of Harmony, respiratory bypass sytems, and "all of time and space." The audience even called for an encore, and the Doctor located a long-disused recorder in one of his pockets.
When they finally managed to break away, they had to pick their way back through a rather grim alley where the TARDIS had parked itself. "Well the poem went well, I thought," the Doctor said cheerfully. "Very well received, wouldn't you say?"
"Doctor, the reason they were so nice is that they thought you were mentally ill!" Peri giggled.
As they approached the TARDIS, he decided not to point out what she had just stepped in.
Peri turned. "Doctor, was that a real Gallifreyan poem?" She was looking at him intently, head tilted and eyes narrowed.
The Doctor cleared his throat. "Well..."
Peri shook her head. "I don't care." She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. "Thank you," she said, smiling, "it was a good Thanksgiving." As she turned back to enter the TARDIS, she was humming a Gallifreyan tune.