Romana II/William ShakespearejaneturenneMay 19 2011, 23:24:23 UTC
"Romana, this is Will Shakespeare," says the Doctor. "Very old friend of mine, Will. I'm going to save him from witches someday, or so he tells me. Will, this is the Lady Fred of Gallifrey, but you can call her Romana."
Will's eyes go straight to Romana's, and the intensity of their expression increases by a thousandfold at least. "My Lady Romana," he says, lifting her hand in his, and pressing a lingering kiss to her fingertips without ever looking away from her face.
"I've met poets before," says Romana, in a cautionary tone. "If you're going to try something like 'she walks in beauty like the night'..."
"Wrong century," coughs the Doctor, hastily.
"My dear Lady of Time," says Will, his eyes sparkling, "I would not do you the injustice of concealing my meaning with words too high-flown to speak sense. Your wit doth shine as clearly as your beauty..."
"Too right," Romana interrupts, with an approving nod.
"...so I will do you the courtesy of plain speech." He slips his arm around her waist, and pulls her to him so quickly she can't react. "I would have you in my bed."
Her eyes widen. "That is blunt," she says. She studies him with mild disapproval, and then, quite suddenly, grins. "Well, I suppose I have always been curious about precisely what your species gets up to in that arena. If I'm going to permit myself a little...xenobiological research, it may as well be with the greatest artist in the history of the species."
Will grins back, dipping her in his arms. "Your words are strange, my Lady," he says, "but your looks speak rhapsodies."
"You've not seen the half of it yet," she murmurs, as his lips slowly near hers.
"Romana," says the Doctor, craning his neck between Romana and Will so that his face swims into her vision upside-down, "I really don't think..."
"Doctor?"
"Yes, Romana?"
"Sod off."
Sulking, the Doctor turns away. "Fine," he says, with a sniff. "I suppose I'll just go visit good Queen Bess. She always seems very eager to see me."
There is no answer. The Doctor turns back around to find Romana and Will deeply involved in what looks like a critically important bit of snogging.
"I'll be back for you tomorrow," the Doctor says, trying and failing to sound anything other than deeply disapproving.
"Make it next week," says Romana, her diction perfect despite the fact that she never appears to stop kissing Will.
"A pox on the both of you," grumbles the Doctor, with a desultory kick at his own scarf, making his way to the door of Will's rooms and pulling it open. "Her eyes really are nothing like the sun, you know," he calls over his shoulder.
"No," agrees Will. "They are blue as the dome of the heavens, the face of God himself, blue as the great Police Box that sails through those skies like..."
"Oh, now that is quite enough," says the Doctor, pulling the door closed behind him with a scowl. "Bad enough kidnapping a Time Lord's Romana without bringing his Police Box into it. Really, poet or no poet, the man has quite simply no taste."
--- Requests: Nyssa of Traken/Zoe Herriot, River Song/Romana II, Leela/Rory Williams
Will's eyes go straight to Romana's, and the intensity of their expression increases by a thousandfold at least. "My Lady Romana," he says, lifting her hand in his, and pressing a lingering kiss to her fingertips without ever looking away from her face.
"I've met poets before," says Romana, in a cautionary tone. "If you're going to try something like 'she walks in beauty like the night'..."
"Wrong century," coughs the Doctor, hastily.
"My dear Lady of Time," says Will, his eyes sparkling, "I would not do you the injustice of concealing my meaning with words too high-flown to speak sense. Your wit doth shine as clearly as your beauty..."
"Too right," Romana interrupts, with an approving nod.
"...so I will do you the courtesy of plain speech." He slips his arm around her waist, and pulls her to him so quickly she can't react. "I would have you in my bed."
Her eyes widen. "That is blunt," she says. She studies him with mild disapproval, and then, quite suddenly, grins. "Well, I suppose I have always been curious about precisely what your species gets up to in that arena. If I'm going to permit myself a little...xenobiological research, it may as well be with the greatest artist in the history of the species."
Will grins back, dipping her in his arms. "Your words are strange, my Lady," he says, "but your looks speak rhapsodies."
"You've not seen the half of it yet," she murmurs, as his lips slowly near hers.
"Romana," says the Doctor, craning his neck between Romana and Will so that his face swims into her vision upside-down, "I really don't think..."
"Doctor?"
"Yes, Romana?"
"Sod off."
Sulking, the Doctor turns away. "Fine," he says, with a sniff. "I suppose I'll just go visit good Queen Bess. She always seems very eager to see me."
There is no answer. The Doctor turns back around to find Romana and Will deeply involved in what looks like a critically important bit of snogging.
"I'll be back for you tomorrow," the Doctor says, trying and failing to sound anything other than deeply disapproving.
"Make it next week," says Romana, her diction perfect despite the fact that she never appears to stop kissing Will.
"A pox on the both of you," grumbles the Doctor, with a desultory kick at his own scarf, making his way to the door of Will's rooms and pulling it open. "Her eyes really are nothing like the sun, you know," he calls over his shoulder.
"No," agrees Will. "They are blue as the dome of the heavens, the face of God himself, blue as the great Police Box that sails through those skies like..."
"Oh, now that is quite enough," says the Doctor, pulling the door closed behind him with a scowl. "Bad enough kidnapping a Time Lord's Romana without bringing his Police Box into it. Really, poet or no poet, the man has quite simply no taste."
---
Requests: Nyssa of Traken/Zoe Herriot, River Song/Romana II, Leela/Rory Williams
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