ficlet: There's a Zombie on Your Lawn
Title: There's a Zombie on Your Lawn
Rating: Teen, sexuality and swearing
Pairing: Rose/TenII
Genre: Humor, little bits of romance, explosions
Spoilers: None really.
Summary: Maybe the Doctor is a little too easily influenced by Dawn of the Dead...
Author's Note: Crackfic. Complete and terrible crack. I have to apologize in advance. This is a result of playing Plants vs. Zombie for two hours while waiting in line to see Wil Wheaton at PAX.
There's a Zombie on your Lawn
When a deep reverberating thud followed by what sounded like a poof and then a highly audible Fuck! shocked her awake and made the night stand shudder, Rose realized something in the garden had exploded. The alarm clock's brilliant blue numbers read 3:38.
Sliding naked from the enormous bed she shared with the Doctor ("Quite right, too," he'd said with an uncontained smirk at the mattress store; the salesman had shifted uncomfortably when they simply didn't hide what they planned to do with a bed so large) she shrugged into her black dressing gown, cinching it at the waist a hand's breadth higher than it needed to be. Once she saw the way he looked at her with her thighs only covered in thin black silk, she'd never owned another robe.
Bare feet (the red toe nail polish reminded her of his red chucks when her legs were draped over his shoulders and her fingers fisted in his hair) scarcely made a noise on the carpet as she flew to the ground floor of their flat, yanking open the back door. The air whipped her hair around as she ran outside to meet him, sleepy and dishevelled and probably not as alarmed as she should have been when the possibility of fire greeting her was looming. The garden, however, was not on fire; it was instead covered in wild vines, wild and alive vines that were twining their way not only around their fence, but the fence and door and windows of the flat next door. The Doctor, in all his jim jammed glory, was wrestling the biggest of the vines, and losing. He had an empty beaker in one hand, an enormous jug of purple liquid in his other, and clutched between his teeth of vial of something blue that was smoking. Chemical explosion, then, Rose noted to herself.
The massive green appendage was doing its best to buck the Doctor off of it, but thanks to a full body hug the Doctor was gripping it with and the help of a trusty sonic screwdriver ("Is it smaller in this world, Doctor?" she had asked cheekily, four years six months and five days after they last saw the TARDIS. "Its okay, you know... It's not size that counts but the frequency of the sonic energy, right?") he managed to subdue the vine and stood in the center of the small urban garden, panting and plucking bits of green from his brown striped pijamas. He was shirtless, and from the redness around his whole torso, fairly scratched up. At the disgruntled look on his face and the fact that he was simply huffing with indignant fury, she laughed out loud.
"There's a setting for making plants sleepy, then?"
"Ro-ose," he whined. "This--!" Now, pointing around him, "Was not what I meant to do."
"What d'you mean to do, Doctor? Give the apple tree some friends?"
"No, no! I... well, see... our flat isn't exactly safe from all the things we see and I thought maybe it could use a little, well, help keeping the nasties out and I was up so late last night watching Dawn of the Dead, great movie Rose, don't watch it in the dark without me, but I thought that maaaaybe I could help stop something like that if the garden were only safer and really Rose why would I want the apple tree of all the trees to have fr--"
"Doctor!"
"If this were a banana tree, for instance, I might consider giving it some company, but apples, honestly..."
"Doctor!!"
Blink. Pause. More anonymous green bits picked of pijamas. "Yes, Rose?"
"Are you fortifying our back yard with sentient plants against zombies??"
The massive vine at his feet twitched, and the rest continued to grow at an agonizingly slow pace (fast for plants, Rose supposed) around the fence, doors, and all gates to the outside world.
The Doctor gave a small shrug and looked nervously at the not quite still vine. He fidgeted with the smoking vial in his hands, as if mulling over the ratio of vines to garden explosions, or days in the year to zombie attacks.
"Maybe?"
Rose made a decision, gingerly taking the blue filled vial from his hands. "No more telly before bed."
He slid his arms around her silk clad form (hands around her hips and a smirk despite the explosions at her lack of knickers) and hugged her.
"It's alright, Rose, we're safe now," he rubbed his hands up and down her arms as if he hadn't heard her. "The zombies can't get past our lawn."
"They can't get past the neighbor's lawn either, Doctor. Not to mention, I don't think the neighbors can get out."
"A public service. They've no need to thank me."
Rating: Teen, sexuality and swearing
Pairing: Rose/TenII
Genre: Humor, little bits of romance, explosions
Spoilers: None really.
Summary: Maybe the Doctor is a little too easily influenced by Dawn of the Dead...
Author's Note: Crackfic. Complete and terrible crack. I have to apologize in advance. This is a result of playing Plants vs. Zombie for two hours while waiting in line to see Wil Wheaton at PAX.
There's a Zombie on your Lawn
When a deep reverberating thud followed by what sounded like a poof and then a highly audible Fuck! shocked her awake and made the night stand shudder, Rose realized something in the garden had exploded. The alarm clock's brilliant blue numbers read 3:38.
Sliding naked from the enormous bed she shared with the Doctor ("Quite right, too," he'd said with an uncontained smirk at the mattress store; the salesman had shifted uncomfortably when they simply didn't hide what they planned to do with a bed so large) she shrugged into her black dressing gown, cinching it at the waist a hand's breadth higher than it needed to be. Once she saw the way he looked at her with her thighs only covered in thin black silk, she'd never owned another robe.
Bare feet (the red toe nail polish reminded her of his red chucks when her legs were draped over his shoulders and her fingers fisted in his hair) scarcely made a noise on the carpet as she flew to the ground floor of their flat, yanking open the back door. The air whipped her hair around as she ran outside to meet him, sleepy and dishevelled and probably not as alarmed as she should have been when the possibility of fire greeting her was looming. The garden, however, was not on fire; it was instead covered in wild vines, wild and alive vines that were twining their way not only around their fence, but the fence and door and windows of the flat next door. The Doctor, in all his jim jammed glory, was wrestling the biggest of the vines, and losing. He had an empty beaker in one hand, an enormous jug of purple liquid in his other, and clutched between his teeth of vial of something blue that was smoking. Chemical explosion, then, Rose noted to herself.
The massive green appendage was doing its best to buck the Doctor off of it, but thanks to a full body hug the Doctor was gripping it with and the help of a trusty sonic screwdriver ("Is it smaller in this world, Doctor?" she had asked cheekily, four years six months and five days after they last saw the TARDIS. "Its okay, you know... It's not size that counts but the frequency of the sonic energy, right?") he managed to subdue the vine and stood in the center of the small urban garden, panting and plucking bits of green from his brown striped pijamas. He was shirtless, and from the redness around his whole torso, fairly scratched up. At the disgruntled look on his face and the fact that he was simply huffing with indignant fury, she laughed out loud.
"There's a setting for making plants sleepy, then?"
"Ro-ose," he whined. "This--!" Now, pointing around him, "Was not what I meant to do."
"What d'you mean to do, Doctor? Give the apple tree some friends?"
"No, no! I... well, see... our flat isn't exactly safe from all the things we see and I thought maybe it could use a little, well, help keeping the nasties out and I was up so late last night watching Dawn of the Dead, great movie Rose, don't watch it in the dark without me, but I thought that maaaaybe I could help stop something like that if the garden were only safer and really Rose why would I want the apple tree of all the trees to have fr--"
"Doctor!"
"If this were a banana tree, for instance, I might consider giving it some company, but apples, honestly..."
"Doctor!!"
Blink. Pause. More anonymous green bits picked of pijamas. "Yes, Rose?"
"Are you fortifying our back yard with sentient plants against zombies??"
The massive vine at his feet twitched, and the rest continued to grow at an agonizingly slow pace (fast for plants, Rose supposed) around the fence, doors, and all gates to the outside world.
The Doctor gave a small shrug and looked nervously at the not quite still vine. He fidgeted with the smoking vial in his hands, as if mulling over the ratio of vines to garden explosions, or days in the year to zombie attacks.
"Maybe?"
Rose made a decision, gingerly taking the blue filled vial from his hands. "No more telly before bed."
He slid his arms around her silk clad form (hands around her hips and a smirk despite the explosions at her lack of knickers) and hugged her.
"It's alright, Rose, we're safe now," he rubbed his hands up and down her arms as if he hadn't heard her. "The zombies can't get past our lawn."
"They can't get past the neighbor's lawn either, Doctor. Not to mention, I don't think the neighbors can get out."
"A public service. They've no need to thank me."