Doctor Who Fic: Not Expecting This!
Craig transferred two bulging grocery bags from his arms to the kitchen counter before going back to the hall to drop his keys on the side table. He glanced up the stairs to the stained glass door above. The light was turned off. Maybe the bloke upstairs had gone out, he wondered absentmindedly.
The shower was running down the hall. Craig smiled a small smile. When the Doctor had said he ‘liked a good soak,’ he hadn’t been kidding. That man took longer showers than anyone Craig had ever met, and sang at the top of his voice every soaking moment.
He wasn’t singing now, though. That’s weird, thought Craig. Three days he’s been here and I’ve been serenaded every time he goes into the bathroom. He shrugged. Maybe the Doctor wasn’t in a singsong mood today. He’d seemed happy enough at breakfast (where they’d had tea, croissants, bacon and a strange rice porridge that the Doctor had said came from China, even though Craig had been sure all he had in the fridge was some mayonnaise and a bit of old cheese.) but the Doctor was a strange, perhaps mad, man and perhaps his moods followed the rest of his mercurial character.
After he’d finished putting away all of the shopping, Craig walked down the hall.
“Doctor? You in there, mate?” He rapped on the door. “I went shopping! We’ve got cereal and eggs and milk and bread and everything now.” No answer. “I’m thinking of asking Soph around for dinner. What do you think? Maybe you and I could make dinner for the three of us.” Craig paused. “Well, I mean, maybe you could make dinner and I could, you know, help. Soph was really impressed when I told her about the omelet you made the other day, so I’m sure she’s dying to experience your cooking for…”
Craig’s rambling was cut off by a loud thump. At first he’d thought the noise had come from the flat upstairs, as had so many strange noises as of late, but the groan that followed the thump was very clearly coming from the bathroom itself.
“Doctor, are you okay? What’s that noise?” Still no answer. Knocking on the door again, Craig pressed his ear to the wood. Someone was definitely making noise in the bathroom, but the sound of the shower was too loud for him to make out if words were being said.
Suddenly, there was another loud thump and a very clear “Owch!” from within the shower. “Doctor, what are you doing in there? Are you all right?” Craig was beginning to get worried. The Doctor had already fallen out of the shower twice. Once was when he’d tried to ‘save’ Craig using Craig’s own toothbrush, the other when he had ‘forgotten about gravity.’ Only, thought Craig, those times he’d either shouted that he was okay or had come charging out the door like a man on fire. This time he hadn’t done either.
“Oh God,” he moaned to himself. “He’s dead. The spindly twit has fallen over and is dead in my bathroom. Great. Great! I find a mad lodger who happens to be a brilliant cook and a decent guy and now he’s gone and killed himself because I never bothered to buy a bathmat. Fantastic.”
He opened the door a fraction of an inch, trying to poke just one eye through the crack to check and see if his new flatmate was dead on the floor. Before Craig could get the door wide enough open to see anything, however, there was a flurry of frenzied motion behind the shower curtain, a very womanly screech and a frantic shout from the Doctor.
“I WAS NOT EXPECTING THIS! I WAS NOT, I REPEAT, NOT EXPECTING THIS!”
Craig gasped and snapped shut the door as quickly as possible. Leaning his back against the door, he heard the indistinct sounds of a murmured argument. Okay, he thought, definitely two people. Definitely shouldn’t go in there again. There was a momentary silence in his train of thought, then his brain piped up again. Nice going, Doctor. Well done, mate. Could have done it in your own room, but you do like your soaks…
Turning around to face the door again, Craig called through the wood, “Just let me know first, next time, okay man?”
“I will keep that in mind, Craig!” came the reply from a sheepish sounding Doctor.
“Sorry, um… Miss!” Craig shouted back before heading into the living room, grinning smugly.
A few minutes later, a wet and bedraggled Doctor came into the kitchen. He was wearing the same towel he’d accidentally dropped on his way to rescue Craig the day before, and was accompanied by a very pretty redhead in a dark blue towel.
“Uh, well, um… Craig,” said the Doctor, awkwardly. “Um, this is Amy Pond. My, um, friend.” He gestured to the girl who was dripping onto the linoleum. “Amy, this is my flatmate. Craig. Owens”
Amy waved embarrassedly. Craig returned her wave more enthusiastically. “I’m sorry about before, man. I thought you’d fallen out of the shower again. Didn’t want you dying in my bathroom and all.”
Amy and the Doctor responded in diametrically opposite ways. While he looked pleadingly at Craig in a sort of “Dear God, please stop talking” type way, her face broke into a delightedly wicked grin.
“You’ve been falling out of showers, Doctor?” She lilted in her Scottish accent. “Since when?”
“Just once, Pond. It was one time, and it was because I was trying to save Craig’s life. Emergency situations and slippery tile floors do not mix.”
“Well, twice,” offered Craig helpfully. “There was the other time, too.”
“Okay, yes, thank you Craig, twice. The other time there was some confusion about gravity.” The Doctor dismissed the issue with a flap of his hands. Amy smiled at Craig, an impish gleam in her eyes.
The Doctor turned on his flatmate. “You said something about dinner. Dinner is a good idea. I like dinner. Miss Pond here likes dinner as well, don’t you, Amy? “ Amy began to answer before the Doctor cut her off. She rolled her eyes, waved to Craig and walked off, assumedly to the Doctor’s room. “Of course she does. And so will lovely Sophie. Reservations for four, Seven PM, right here in your kitchen.” He smiled cheerily, waved and followed Amy out the door.
Craig reached for his phone, punching in Sophie’s number. “Soph,” he said when she picked up. “You free for dinner? You won’t believe what just happened…”
The shower was running down the hall. Craig smiled a small smile. When the Doctor had said he ‘liked a good soak,’ he hadn’t been kidding. That man took longer showers than anyone Craig had ever met, and sang at the top of his voice every soaking moment.
He wasn’t singing now, though. That’s weird, thought Craig. Three days he’s been here and I’ve been serenaded every time he goes into the bathroom. He shrugged. Maybe the Doctor wasn’t in a singsong mood today. He’d seemed happy enough at breakfast (where they’d had tea, croissants, bacon and a strange rice porridge that the Doctor had said came from China, even though Craig had been sure all he had in the fridge was some mayonnaise and a bit of old cheese.) but the Doctor was a strange, perhaps mad, man and perhaps his moods followed the rest of his mercurial character.
After he’d finished putting away all of the shopping, Craig walked down the hall.
“Doctor? You in there, mate?” He rapped on the door. “I went shopping! We’ve got cereal and eggs and milk and bread and everything now.” No answer. “I’m thinking of asking Soph around for dinner. What do you think? Maybe you and I could make dinner for the three of us.” Craig paused. “Well, I mean, maybe you could make dinner and I could, you know, help. Soph was really impressed when I told her about the omelet you made the other day, so I’m sure she’s dying to experience your cooking for…”
Craig’s rambling was cut off by a loud thump. At first he’d thought the noise had come from the flat upstairs, as had so many strange noises as of late, but the groan that followed the thump was very clearly coming from the bathroom itself.
“Doctor, are you okay? What’s that noise?” Still no answer. Knocking on the door again, Craig pressed his ear to the wood. Someone was definitely making noise in the bathroom, but the sound of the shower was too loud for him to make out if words were being said.
Suddenly, there was another loud thump and a very clear “Owch!” from within the shower. “Doctor, what are you doing in there? Are you all right?” Craig was beginning to get worried. The Doctor had already fallen out of the shower twice. Once was when he’d tried to ‘save’ Craig using Craig’s own toothbrush, the other when he had ‘forgotten about gravity.’ Only, thought Craig, those times he’d either shouted that he was okay or had come charging out the door like a man on fire. This time he hadn’t done either.
“Oh God,” he moaned to himself. “He’s dead. The spindly twit has fallen over and is dead in my bathroom. Great. Great! I find a mad lodger who happens to be a brilliant cook and a decent guy and now he’s gone and killed himself because I never bothered to buy a bathmat. Fantastic.”
He opened the door a fraction of an inch, trying to poke just one eye through the crack to check and see if his new flatmate was dead on the floor. Before Craig could get the door wide enough open to see anything, however, there was a flurry of frenzied motion behind the shower curtain, a very womanly screech and a frantic shout from the Doctor.
“I WAS NOT EXPECTING THIS! I WAS NOT, I REPEAT, NOT EXPECTING THIS!”
Craig gasped and snapped shut the door as quickly as possible. Leaning his back against the door, he heard the indistinct sounds of a murmured argument. Okay, he thought, definitely two people. Definitely shouldn’t go in there again. There was a momentary silence in his train of thought, then his brain piped up again. Nice going, Doctor. Well done, mate. Could have done it in your own room, but you do like your soaks…
Turning around to face the door again, Craig called through the wood, “Just let me know first, next time, okay man?”
“I will keep that in mind, Craig!” came the reply from a sheepish sounding Doctor.
“Sorry, um… Miss!” Craig shouted back before heading into the living room, grinning smugly.
A few minutes later, a wet and bedraggled Doctor came into the kitchen. He was wearing the same towel he’d accidentally dropped on his way to rescue Craig the day before, and was accompanied by a very pretty redhead in a dark blue towel.
“Uh, well, um… Craig,” said the Doctor, awkwardly. “Um, this is Amy Pond. My, um, friend.” He gestured to the girl who was dripping onto the linoleum. “Amy, this is my flatmate. Craig. Owens”
Amy waved embarrassedly. Craig returned her wave more enthusiastically. “I’m sorry about before, man. I thought you’d fallen out of the shower again. Didn’t want you dying in my bathroom and all.”
Amy and the Doctor responded in diametrically opposite ways. While he looked pleadingly at Craig in a sort of “Dear God, please stop talking” type way, her face broke into a delightedly wicked grin.
“You’ve been falling out of showers, Doctor?” She lilted in her Scottish accent. “Since when?”
“Just once, Pond. It was one time, and it was because I was trying to save Craig’s life. Emergency situations and slippery tile floors do not mix.”
“Well, twice,” offered Craig helpfully. “There was the other time, too.”
“Okay, yes, thank you Craig, twice. The other time there was some confusion about gravity.” The Doctor dismissed the issue with a flap of his hands. Amy smiled at Craig, an impish gleam in her eyes.
The Doctor turned on his flatmate. “You said something about dinner. Dinner is a good idea. I like dinner. Miss Pond here likes dinner as well, don’t you, Amy? “ Amy began to answer before the Doctor cut her off. She rolled her eyes, waved to Craig and walked off, assumedly to the Doctor’s room. “Of course she does. And so will lovely Sophie. Reservations for four, Seven PM, right here in your kitchen.” He smiled cheerily, waved and followed Amy out the door.
Craig reached for his phone, punching in Sophie’s number. “Soph,” he said when she picked up. “You free for dinner? You won’t believe what just happened…”