Day 21 (2010): cold, naked & alone | btvs, doctor who | gen
Title: cold, naked & alone
Rating: FR13
Disclaimer: Doctor Who and all related characters are copyright of Sydney Newman, C.E. Webber, Donald Wilson and BBC One. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters are copyright of Joss Whedon and ME. No infringement intended.
Note: Part of my nearly forgotten Voodoo Child series.
Prompt: anyariene | BtVS, Doctor Who | Two heroes walk into bar and wake up in the morgue
+
Darkness-lots and lots of it-was not the most calm inducing of environments to awaken in, also, it was incredibly cold.
Buffy Summers sat up, or at least she attempted to sit up, but a hard barrier was in her way and her forehead collided soundly with it. The twang that followed the impact, which she felt all the way down into her jaw, had her wincing and lifting her hands to press against the low-lying ceiling above her. Fingers splayed and palms flat against the cool metal and she ran her hands along the ceiling as she struggled to remember the last thing that had happened to her.
“Goddammit, Jack!” tumbled past her lips before the memory of him opening his trap and getting them shot, again, had even fully registered.
A fist struck the ceiling above her, denting the metal with the sudden realization that she’d woken up in a morgue. Which, granted, it beat waking in her own coffin six feet under, but it still wasn’t high on her fun places to take a nap. She flattened her palms against the dented ceiling and pulled the wheeled gurney forward, placing her feet closer to the door to make for easier kicking.
It was a shame Jack wasn’t on the other side. Moron.
The Doctor had been with them, but he’d wondered off-like the Doctor was wont to do-and Buffy had resigned herself to fruity drinks and titillating conversation. Though, she supposed, resigned was the wrong word, but since she was alone in her head and in this tiny cold corner of the universe she was entitled to be bitchy. Green eyes rolled in the darkness as she pressed the heel of her right foot against the door of the cooler before bringing her knee up towards her chest.
It smacked against the ceiling and she ignored the stinging pain before arching her leg down. It hit the metal, popping the suction and flooding her wannabe prison with light. She blinked, suddenly blinded, but the familiar sound of the sonic screwdriver melted away some of her frustration. Though not entirely and when the person with that screwdriver pulled out her drawer she glared in their general direction, a frown pinching her brows tight together.
The Doctor presented her with wide brown eyes that were focused solely on her face and no other part of her nude form. Buffy sat up, stomach muscles tightening as her arms rose to wrap around her breasts to protect them from the cold and hopefully make the Doctor less uncomfortable. The movement seemed to spur him into action as he stepped back, sonic screwdriver slipping into the pocket of his slacks before he shrugged off the trench coat that flounced after him as he ran.
“Please?” He offered the coat to her while still making incredibly intense eye contact.
She accepted it with a nod and slipped off the cold, oh so cold, table. The jacket was a welcomed warmth as she brought it up her chilled arms and settled it onto her shoulders. It was a bit big around the waist, but she belted it as best she could before inquiring, “So where’s Jack?”
A brow quirked over his glasses and Buffy didn’t like the look of that frown as he replied, “I’m not entirely certain.”
“No?” Buffy sighed, “Idiot.”
“Hey!”
“Not you. Jack.”
“He’s not an idiot,” he sputtered at her glare, “He’s not! He’s just rambunctious is all.”
“Jack’s not a puppy, Doctor.”
“I know that!”
“Do you?”
He scratched at the back of his head. “Mostly.”
Another sigh escaped her. “So this is where we search for him?”
“Yeah.” The word was stated as an apology.
“Do we know where to start?”
His smile was just this side of manic. “Not a clue.”
“Hello, needle, I am the haystack.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“It’s that bad.”
“Allons-y?”
He’d made his usually command a question and Buffy rolled her eyes before allowing him to grasp her hand and drag her from the future-y morgue before agreeing. “Allons-y.”
+
The end.
Rating: FR13
Disclaimer: Doctor Who and all related characters are copyright of Sydney Newman, C.E. Webber, Donald Wilson and BBC One. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters are copyright of Joss Whedon and ME. No infringement intended.
Note: Part of my nearly forgotten Voodoo Child series.
Prompt: anyariene | BtVS, Doctor Who | Two heroes walk into bar and wake up in the morgue
+
Darkness-lots and lots of it-was not the most calm inducing of environments to awaken in, also, it was incredibly cold.
Buffy Summers sat up, or at least she attempted to sit up, but a hard barrier was in her way and her forehead collided soundly with it. The twang that followed the impact, which she felt all the way down into her jaw, had her wincing and lifting her hands to press against the low-lying ceiling above her. Fingers splayed and palms flat against the cool metal and she ran her hands along the ceiling as she struggled to remember the last thing that had happened to her.
“Goddammit, Jack!” tumbled past her lips before the memory of him opening his trap and getting them shot, again, had even fully registered.
A fist struck the ceiling above her, denting the metal with the sudden realization that she’d woken up in a morgue. Which, granted, it beat waking in her own coffin six feet under, but it still wasn’t high on her fun places to take a nap. She flattened her palms against the dented ceiling and pulled the wheeled gurney forward, placing her feet closer to the door to make for easier kicking.
It was a shame Jack wasn’t on the other side. Moron.
The Doctor had been with them, but he’d wondered off-like the Doctor was wont to do-and Buffy had resigned herself to fruity drinks and titillating conversation. Though, she supposed, resigned was the wrong word, but since she was alone in her head and in this tiny cold corner of the universe she was entitled to be bitchy. Green eyes rolled in the darkness as she pressed the heel of her right foot against the door of the cooler before bringing her knee up towards her chest.
It smacked against the ceiling and she ignored the stinging pain before arching her leg down. It hit the metal, popping the suction and flooding her wannabe prison with light. She blinked, suddenly blinded, but the familiar sound of the sonic screwdriver melted away some of her frustration. Though not entirely and when the person with that screwdriver pulled out her drawer she glared in their general direction, a frown pinching her brows tight together.
The Doctor presented her with wide brown eyes that were focused solely on her face and no other part of her nude form. Buffy sat up, stomach muscles tightening as her arms rose to wrap around her breasts to protect them from the cold and hopefully make the Doctor less uncomfortable. The movement seemed to spur him into action as he stepped back, sonic screwdriver slipping into the pocket of his slacks before he shrugged off the trench coat that flounced after him as he ran.
“Please?” He offered the coat to her while still making incredibly intense eye contact.
She accepted it with a nod and slipped off the cold, oh so cold, table. The jacket was a welcomed warmth as she brought it up her chilled arms and settled it onto her shoulders. It was a bit big around the waist, but she belted it as best she could before inquiring, “So where’s Jack?”
A brow quirked over his glasses and Buffy didn’t like the look of that frown as he replied, “I’m not entirely certain.”
“No?” Buffy sighed, “Idiot.”
“Hey!”
“Not you. Jack.”
“He’s not an idiot,” he sputtered at her glare, “He’s not! He’s just rambunctious is all.”
“Jack’s not a puppy, Doctor.”
“I know that!”
“Do you?”
He scratched at the back of his head. “Mostly.”
Another sigh escaped her. “So this is where we search for him?”
“Yeah.” The word was stated as an apology.
“Do we know where to start?”
His smile was just this side of manic. “Not a clue.”
“Hello, needle, I am the haystack.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“It’s that bad.”
“Allons-y?”
He’d made his usually command a question and Buffy rolled her eyes before allowing him to grasp her hand and drag her from the future-y morgue before agreeing. “Allons-y.”
+
The end.