Drabble: Tat
(Isabelle's Epic Fic-Finishing Week-end continues apace! And while I'm on Four ...)
Title: Tat
Pairing: Four/Sarah Jane Smith
Rating: PG-13
Summary: That scarf isn't getting the Doctor laid tonight.
Spoilers: Nary a one.
Notes: Written for (and x-posted to) the fourth o_b_b challenge, that being: integrate the Fourth Doctor's scarf into a fic. However, the scarf has to be HORRIBLE.
(And at 200 words, well, let's call it a 'double-drabble' ... Cor, that don't sound half dirty, do it?)
***
“But why not?”
“You know why not!”
“I don’t.”
Sarah Jane opened the door just wide enough to thrust the offending object through and drop it at his feet. The Doctor regarded the pile of wool with a grimace and prodded it with his toe.
“You’re not getting into this bed again until that thing is gone!”
She probably had a point, he reflected; the scarf was filthy. It gave off the distinct odor of cheese. The colours were horrid. He reached down to pluck a fluff-covered jelly baby from it.
“What do you want me to do with it, then?”
“Something involving fire comes to mind.”
“Burn it? But - what if I get cold?”
“You’ll get a lot colder sleeping alone for the rest of your life!”
That’s a long time, he thought. “All right. How about this: we’ll only go warm places for a while. In the meantime I’ll … use it as a draft excluder in the control room. Yes?”
The door opened slowly. “Allright,” she conceded.
“Excellent!” The Doctor grinned and reached for her. “And while we’re at it, let’s have a chat about that grey jumper of yours -"
She slammed the door shut in his face.
Title: Tat
Pairing: Four/Sarah Jane Smith
Rating: PG-13
Summary: That scarf isn't getting the Doctor laid tonight.
Spoilers: Nary a one.
Notes: Written for (and x-posted to) the fourth o_b_b challenge, that being: integrate the Fourth Doctor's scarf into a fic. However, the scarf has to be HORRIBLE.
(And at 200 words, well, let's call it a 'double-drabble' ... Cor, that don't sound half dirty, do it?)
***
“But why not?”
“You know why not!”
“I don’t.”
Sarah Jane opened the door just wide enough to thrust the offending object through and drop it at his feet. The Doctor regarded the pile of wool with a grimace and prodded it with his toe.
“You’re not getting into this bed again until that thing is gone!”
She probably had a point, he reflected; the scarf was filthy. It gave off the distinct odor of cheese. The colours were horrid. He reached down to pluck a fluff-covered jelly baby from it.
“What do you want me to do with it, then?”
“Something involving fire comes to mind.”
“Burn it? But - what if I get cold?”
“You’ll get a lot colder sleeping alone for the rest of your life!”
That’s a long time, he thought. “All right. How about this: we’ll only go warm places for a while. In the meantime I’ll … use it as a draft excluder in the control room. Yes?”
The door opened slowly. “Allright,” she conceded.
“Excellent!” The Doctor grinned and reached for her. “And while we’re at it, let’s have a chat about that grey jumper of yours -"
She slammed the door shut in his face.