Fic/One-shot: Just a pint or two...or three...or eight.
Title: Just a pint or two…or three…or eight.
Author: Rei
Rating: PG-13 me guesses
Genre: fluff, friendship
Characters: Ten, Donna
Summary: God, not another drunk Doctor fic!
Warning: drunkedness, possible envy for Donna or the Doctor (or both)
Spoilers: None
Words: 1368
Disclaimer: “Does it need saying?”
A/N: Cause I’ve clearly run out of ideas & bas_math_girl suggested this a long while ago.
It’s been a few hours since the Doctor had Donna wait in the TARDIS to handle some alien affairs on his own. Of course, she didn’t support that idea very much. The only reason she agreed was because the atmosphere was poisonous to human lungs.
It’s been more than a few hours though, or at least it seems. It feels like a whole night has dwindled away. Donna tried to shuffle through the entire TARDIS trying to look for some space suit or something, nearly getting completely lost in the process.
She tries conversing with the TARDIS, constantly asking her if she knows if he’s okay or not. Surely he was, right?
Donna gets her answer when he swings through the doors singing Don’t Cry for Me Argentina at the top of his lungs. She’s ready to get up and smack the daylights out of him but his stumbling and crashing into the railings seem to pummel him already.
“You know it’s funny,” he struggles to speak as he slurs. Donna decides to help him now and punish him later and assist him in getting off his knees as she leads him to a seat.
“Its funny, you know it’s funny right, cause it’s funny cause it’s…” he becomes lost in a random trance as his eyes lose focus for a moment. “Oh, I’m sorry! Where was I… Oh yehh, see it’s absolutely ‘ilarious cause those Glurviconians or whatever, tried to poison me! But o’currrse, it was just alcohol. D’you know it was harmful to them? I did! ‘n yehhh…”
He mumbles incoherently as Donna checks him for any injuries. There’s a cut on his arm, probably from a messy escape to the TARDIS.
“I can’t believe you managed to get spectacularly drunk on some other planet,” she scolds as she takes off his jacket and rolls up his sleeve to tend to his cut.
“Nawrr that’s nuffin,” he says with an exaggerated hand dismissal.
“Your current state or your wound?”
“I have my own State?! Whoaa…”
Donna sighs as she pulls out a first aid kit from under the gate-like floors and wraps a bandage on his arm. The Doctor sways, unable to control his balance and begins to sing again, “I dreamed a dream in time gone byyyy!”
“Keep still and quiet, would you?”
“Nehhhh,” he whines and Donna rolls her eyes. “Mkay done!” he jolts up immediately after Donna is done and he nearly rolls into the console.
“Oh no you don’t, Sunshine, you are not flying the TARDIS.”
“Aww but Donna who else’s gunna?” The Doctor loses balance and falls towards Donna, being caught.
“I’ll be the designated driver for the time being.”
“Pffftaw, thou canst even changeth a plug,” he slurs in her face, the last letter emphasized.
Donna ignores him as she places his hands at the handles of the console. “You hold on tight, okay? I don’t want you rollin’ off.”
“Fiiiiiiiiine,” he surrenders and wiggles his fingers on the surface.
It’s a rough take off, and it takes Donna a while to recollect everything she’d learned before when the Doctor was teaching her how to fly the TARDIS. She can’t exactly ask for any assistance, since, well, you know. It’s also hard, she finds, to maneuver the controls while trying to keep the Doctor and herself from tumbling around.
“Help me out, would you?” She begs the TARDIS and after a struggle she feels the rumbling and shaking ease and eventually stop as they drift in space.
“Ooh,” the Doctor groans as he stumbles on the floor, the gravity seeming to cling onto him especially.
“Alright, upsy daisy.” Donna puts his arm around her and she lifts him up. He’s heavier than he looks. “I suppose you’re bigger on the inside as well, eh?” she says more to herself and the Doctor flutters with giggles.
“You’re very funnay, Donna, a very funnay bunnay,” he slurs, his legs like jelly.
“Make an effort to stand up, would you? I’m sweeping the floor with your knees.”
“Fine, fine,” he whines and rolls his eyes with great exaggeration.
They walk through the halls and Donna is frustrated with the distance between the console room and the Doctor’s.
There’s a bit of a silence as Donna drags the Doctor, and then he abruptly shifts his weight backwards and stops her.
“What is it?”
“You’re upset wiff me, ain’t cha, Donna?” he slurs in a low voice. She gives him a quizzical look.
“No.”
“Yesshuuu are! Me sees it on thy face.”
“Doctor, really, you’re heavy and you need to go sleep this off-“
“’m sorreh, Donna.” He pouts ever so slightly and his faded eyes look at her with glints of guilt.
“Now now, spaceman, none of it is your fault, I’m not upset with you,” she says in comfort as she lifts him up higher to get his knees off the ground. “I’m just afraid…”
“O’ what? O’ me? Naww, I’m no harm, honest!” he defends, raising a hand in emphasis but then soon dropping it down when he finds he lacks the energy to have such enthusiasm. Donna huffs a smile.
“C’mon, keep walking, or trudging, sliding, whichever you prefer.”
He complies well enough like a good little time lord so that she doesn’t start to have a pain around her shoulders. She sets him down onto his bed after ridding of his shoes, socks, and his tie.
“Will you be watchin’ me sleep? How Cullenish,” the Doctor remarks as Donna takes her seat at the edge of the bed, earning him a hard pat on his stomach.
“Go on now, rest it off, because I don’t know what happens to time lords who consume the amount of alcohol that would have sent a human straight to the coffin, okay?”
The Doctor makes a motor of his mouth. “Dawnna, I’ll beh fiiyun.”
“Don’t be hard headed, now close your eyes.”
“Sleep with me.”
“Doctor…”
“Pluhleaaase?”
“Okay,” Donna sighs as she kicks off her shoes and lays where the Doctor has made room for her.
Right as she sets her back down, he flips over and hovers over her body, giving a mischievous laugh that does not amuse Donna one bit.
“When I agreed to sleep with you I didn’t mean this!” She tries to push him off back to his side of the bed with no avail. “Okay, so you’re not a stick, you’re a flipping rock, I get it, I’ll cut out the skinny jokes."
The Doctor collapses in silent laughter atop her with his cheek on her shoulder, hiding his hysterical face.
“Oh Dawnaaah, you’re brillyuntt.”
Donna groans and closes her eyes with frustration as she gives up trying to lop him off her.
“You’re soft,” he comments as he cuddles his head closer to her.
“Thank you, Doctor, that’s the best compliment anyone’s ever given me while having their face nearly suffocated into my bosom.”
“I’m nawt a peeervert! Stop zzageratin’.”
The Doctor shifts his arms around a little under Donna’s shoulder into a very small hug, and Donna is thinking of the many ways she can hurt this drunken fool if he goes any lower. But like a good time boy, he doesn’t.
She wraps her arms around his shoulders and rubs his upper back with her hand, and he stays silent and still. Before she can ask if he’s still awake, he speaks.
“What’s it like having one heart?” The Doctor asks in a quiet, sleepy voice. He’s been listening to her heartbeat.
She thinks for a moment, as she continues to rub at his back. “Well,” she starts. “Like one less of two hearts? As if I know the difference between having one or two, or three, or eight.”
“Mmkay.”
There’s another silence.
“Doctor?”
“Wah.”
“You’re fallin’ asleep right? And not, like, dying?”
Silence.
“Doctor?”
He responds with soft snores and that gives her an answer enough.
“Stupid space dunce…” she says and smiles despite herself. She rests her arms securely around him and closes her eyes to get her well-deserved rest as well.
Donna slowly drifts into sleep until she’s awakened by a wet sticky feeling of drool on her shoulder.
“Ugh! I’ll kill him!”
end. x)
Author: Rei
Rating: PG-13 me guesses
Genre: fluff, friendship
Characters: Ten, Donna
Summary: God, not another drunk Doctor fic!
Warning: drunkedness, possible envy for Donna or the Doctor (or both)
Spoilers: None
Words: 1368
Disclaimer: “Does it need saying?”
A/N: Cause I’ve clearly run out of ideas & bas_math_girl suggested this a long while ago.
It’s been a few hours since the Doctor had Donna wait in the TARDIS to handle some alien affairs on his own. Of course, she didn’t support that idea very much. The only reason she agreed was because the atmosphere was poisonous to human lungs.
It’s been more than a few hours though, or at least it seems. It feels like a whole night has dwindled away. Donna tried to shuffle through the entire TARDIS trying to look for some space suit or something, nearly getting completely lost in the process.
She tries conversing with the TARDIS, constantly asking her if she knows if he’s okay or not. Surely he was, right?
Donna gets her answer when he swings through the doors singing Don’t Cry for Me Argentina at the top of his lungs. She’s ready to get up and smack the daylights out of him but his stumbling and crashing into the railings seem to pummel him already.
“You know it’s funny,” he struggles to speak as he slurs. Donna decides to help him now and punish him later and assist him in getting off his knees as she leads him to a seat.
“Its funny, you know it’s funny right, cause it’s funny cause it’s…” he becomes lost in a random trance as his eyes lose focus for a moment. “Oh, I’m sorry! Where was I… Oh yehh, see it’s absolutely ‘ilarious cause those Glurviconians or whatever, tried to poison me! But o’currrse, it was just alcohol. D’you know it was harmful to them? I did! ‘n yehhh…”
He mumbles incoherently as Donna checks him for any injuries. There’s a cut on his arm, probably from a messy escape to the TARDIS.
“I can’t believe you managed to get spectacularly drunk on some other planet,” she scolds as she takes off his jacket and rolls up his sleeve to tend to his cut.
“Nawrr that’s nuffin,” he says with an exaggerated hand dismissal.
“Your current state or your wound?”
“I have my own State?! Whoaa…”
Donna sighs as she pulls out a first aid kit from under the gate-like floors and wraps a bandage on his arm. The Doctor sways, unable to control his balance and begins to sing again, “I dreamed a dream in time gone byyyy!”
“Keep still and quiet, would you?”
“Nehhhh,” he whines and Donna rolls her eyes. “Mkay done!” he jolts up immediately after Donna is done and he nearly rolls into the console.
“Oh no you don’t, Sunshine, you are not flying the TARDIS.”
“Aww but Donna who else’s gunna?” The Doctor loses balance and falls towards Donna, being caught.
“I’ll be the designated driver for the time being.”
“Pffftaw, thou canst even changeth a plug,” he slurs in her face, the last letter emphasized.
Donna ignores him as she places his hands at the handles of the console. “You hold on tight, okay? I don’t want you rollin’ off.”
“Fiiiiiiiiine,” he surrenders and wiggles his fingers on the surface.
It’s a rough take off, and it takes Donna a while to recollect everything she’d learned before when the Doctor was teaching her how to fly the TARDIS. She can’t exactly ask for any assistance, since, well, you know. It’s also hard, she finds, to maneuver the controls while trying to keep the Doctor and herself from tumbling around.
“Help me out, would you?” She begs the TARDIS and after a struggle she feels the rumbling and shaking ease and eventually stop as they drift in space.
“Ooh,” the Doctor groans as he stumbles on the floor, the gravity seeming to cling onto him especially.
“Alright, upsy daisy.” Donna puts his arm around her and she lifts him up. He’s heavier than he looks. “I suppose you’re bigger on the inside as well, eh?” she says more to herself and the Doctor flutters with giggles.
“You’re very funnay, Donna, a very funnay bunnay,” he slurs, his legs like jelly.
“Make an effort to stand up, would you? I’m sweeping the floor with your knees.”
“Fine, fine,” he whines and rolls his eyes with great exaggeration.
They walk through the halls and Donna is frustrated with the distance between the console room and the Doctor’s.
There’s a bit of a silence as Donna drags the Doctor, and then he abruptly shifts his weight backwards and stops her.
“What is it?”
“You’re upset wiff me, ain’t cha, Donna?” he slurs in a low voice. She gives him a quizzical look.
“No.”
“Yesshuuu are! Me sees it on thy face.”
“Doctor, really, you’re heavy and you need to go sleep this off-“
“’m sorreh, Donna.” He pouts ever so slightly and his faded eyes look at her with glints of guilt.
“Now now, spaceman, none of it is your fault, I’m not upset with you,” she says in comfort as she lifts him up higher to get his knees off the ground. “I’m just afraid…”
“O’ what? O’ me? Naww, I’m no harm, honest!” he defends, raising a hand in emphasis but then soon dropping it down when he finds he lacks the energy to have such enthusiasm. Donna huffs a smile.
“C’mon, keep walking, or trudging, sliding, whichever you prefer.”
He complies well enough like a good little time lord so that she doesn’t start to have a pain around her shoulders. She sets him down onto his bed after ridding of his shoes, socks, and his tie.
“Will you be watchin’ me sleep? How Cullenish,” the Doctor remarks as Donna takes her seat at the edge of the bed, earning him a hard pat on his stomach.
“Go on now, rest it off, because I don’t know what happens to time lords who consume the amount of alcohol that would have sent a human straight to the coffin, okay?”
The Doctor makes a motor of his mouth. “Dawnna, I’ll beh fiiyun.”
“Don’t be hard headed, now close your eyes.”
“Sleep with me.”
“Doctor…”
“Pluhleaaase?”
“Okay,” Donna sighs as she kicks off her shoes and lays where the Doctor has made room for her.
Right as she sets her back down, he flips over and hovers over her body, giving a mischievous laugh that does not amuse Donna one bit.
“When I agreed to sleep with you I didn’t mean this!” She tries to push him off back to his side of the bed with no avail. “Okay, so you’re not a stick, you’re a flipping rock, I get it, I’ll cut out the skinny jokes."
The Doctor collapses in silent laughter atop her with his cheek on her shoulder, hiding his hysterical face.
“Oh Dawnaaah, you’re brillyuntt.”
Donna groans and closes her eyes with frustration as she gives up trying to lop him off her.
“You’re soft,” he comments as he cuddles his head closer to her.
“Thank you, Doctor, that’s the best compliment anyone’s ever given me while having their face nearly suffocated into my bosom.”
“I’m nawt a peeervert! Stop zzageratin’.”
The Doctor shifts his arms around a little under Donna’s shoulder into a very small hug, and Donna is thinking of the many ways she can hurt this drunken fool if he goes any lower. But like a good time boy, he doesn’t.
She wraps her arms around his shoulders and rubs his upper back with her hand, and he stays silent and still. Before she can ask if he’s still awake, he speaks.
“What’s it like having one heart?” The Doctor asks in a quiet, sleepy voice. He’s been listening to her heartbeat.
She thinks for a moment, as she continues to rub at his back. “Well,” she starts. “Like one less of two hearts? As if I know the difference between having one or two, or three, or eight.”
“Mmkay.”
There’s another silence.
“Doctor?”
“Wah.”
“You’re fallin’ asleep right? And not, like, dying?”
Silence.
“Doctor?”
He responds with soft snores and that gives her an answer enough.
“Stupid space dunce…” she says and smiles despite herself. She rests her arms securely around him and closes her eyes to get her well-deserved rest as well.
Donna slowly drifts into sleep until she’s awakened by a wet sticky feeling of drool on her shoulder.
“Ugh! I’ll kill him!”
end. x)