Ficlet: When Other Things Need Saving
Title: When other things need saving
Rating: G
Summary: The Doctor is a ditz when he's in love.
Warning: The Doctor acting like a little 14 year old girl
Words: 477
Disclaimer: Nothing here is my own except my pure love for them. /cheesy
A/N: This is the result of having no muse for that actiony/adventure/alienfighting thing. XD This is the first fic in the starting ficlet series: "When Other Things Need Saving"
He was sure this time. He was going to tell her. But how? He didn't want to alarm her. He didn't want to make her feel as if she was obligated to return it. He just needed it to be known.
And well, despite being a Time Lord, his timing was rubbish. Here went his direct and simple approach.
"Ugh," Donna groaned as she stepped into the TARDIS covered in alien mud and who knows what else, "I stink."
"I swear, Lupuroum 3 was a lot more pleasant the last time I went," the Doctor defended before she went on blaming him.
"When was that? A millennium ago?"
The Doctor didn't answer.
Donna sighed. "I need to shower."
"I could help--"
"What."
"I mean."
She looked at him with her hands on her muddy hips, waiting for an explanation.
"Donna, there's something I need to tell you."
"What?"
"I..." he started.
"Out with it."
"I l..."
"Mhmm....?"
"I love...you....r hair! What did you use?"
Donna glared at him. "Alien dirt."
"Oh."
"And since you seem to like it so much," she gathered a clump of mud from her hair and stuck it onto his cheek, "here you go."
The Doctor took the face of defeat. "Thanks."
---
Direct and simple was not his thing. Subtle should be it, right?
It was an empty day. Donna didn't want to do anything--she'd caught some alien cold. So they were playing Scrabble by her bedside.
Donna was quite a number ahead of him, which she found questionable. Why did he take so long to make a freaking word?
"For a genius your vocabulary is rather bleak," Donna raised her eyebrow as he carefully set the letter tiles on the board.
"I... L...what the... where's the?" Missing an O. And a V. And an E. "D'oh!" He took back the tiles and then ran off in frustration, leaving Donna puzzled.
"Could have just taken a new pile..."
---
"Guess what, Donna?!"
"What?"
"It's opposite day! And I do not not..."
"You don't what?"
"Hold on I've got to think of more double negatives."
"Dunce."
"Thank you."
---
He sat at the bench of the console room moping about. It bothered him that he couldn't just say it.
Donna came in from the halls, holding a large aluminum tray on one hand. "Spaceman."
The Doctor eyed the tray, recognizing it. "What's that you've got there?"
Donna wore a smug smile as she tilted the tray to reveal a pitiful and half-assed attempt of a cake. In messy icing, it read:
"Donna, I love you."
The Doctor stared at it. "I didn't make that."
"Course you didn't."
Donna swiped at the -nna of her name with her finger and made it into an ugly "C", and added a "2" at the bottom of the cake.
"And I didn't make that either."
Rating: G
Summary: The Doctor is a ditz when he's in love.
Warning: The Doctor acting like a little 14 year old girl
Words: 477
Disclaimer: Nothing here is my own except my pure love for them. /cheesy
A/N: This is the result of having no muse for that actiony/adventure/alienfighting thing. XD This is the first fic in the starting ficlet series: "When Other Things Need Saving"
He was sure this time. He was going to tell her. But how? He didn't want to alarm her. He didn't want to make her feel as if she was obligated to return it. He just needed it to be known.
And well, despite being a Time Lord, his timing was rubbish. Here went his direct and simple approach.
"Ugh," Donna groaned as she stepped into the TARDIS covered in alien mud and who knows what else, "I stink."
"I swear, Lupuroum 3 was a lot more pleasant the last time I went," the Doctor defended before she went on blaming him.
"When was that? A millennium ago?"
The Doctor didn't answer.
Donna sighed. "I need to shower."
"I could help--"
"What."
"I mean."
She looked at him with her hands on her muddy hips, waiting for an explanation.
"Donna, there's something I need to tell you."
"What?"
"I..." he started.
"Out with it."
"I l..."
"Mhmm....?"
"I love...you....r hair! What did you use?"
Donna glared at him. "Alien dirt."
"Oh."
"And since you seem to like it so much," she gathered a clump of mud from her hair and stuck it onto his cheek, "here you go."
The Doctor took the face of defeat. "Thanks."
---
Direct and simple was not his thing. Subtle should be it, right?
It was an empty day. Donna didn't want to do anything--she'd caught some alien cold. So they were playing Scrabble by her bedside.
Donna was quite a number ahead of him, which she found questionable. Why did he take so long to make a freaking word?
"For a genius your vocabulary is rather bleak," Donna raised her eyebrow as he carefully set the letter tiles on the board.
"I... L...what the... where's the?" Missing an O. And a V. And an E. "D'oh!" He took back the tiles and then ran off in frustration, leaving Donna puzzled.
"Could have just taken a new pile..."
---
"Guess what, Donna?!"
"What?"
"It's opposite day! And I do not not..."
"You don't what?"
"Hold on I've got to think of more double negatives."
"Dunce."
"Thank you."
---
He sat at the bench of the console room moping about. It bothered him that he couldn't just say it.
Donna came in from the halls, holding a large aluminum tray on one hand. "Spaceman."
The Doctor eyed the tray, recognizing it. "What's that you've got there?"
Donna wore a smug smile as she tilted the tray to reveal a pitiful and half-assed attempt of a cake. In messy icing, it read:
"Donna, I love you."
The Doctor stared at it. "I didn't make that."
"Course you didn't."
Donna swiped at the -nna of her name with her finger and made it into an ugly "C", and added a "2" at the bottom of the cake.
"And I didn't make that either."