livii
in
dw_hartnell
Ficathon: Fall Fast, Fall Free (Fall With Me) [Steven/Dodo, R]
Title: Fall Fast, Fall Free (Fall With Me)
Author: livii
Characters: Steven/Dodo, One
Rating: R
Summary: The stories they tell are not true; it travels in time as well as in space. Steven and Dodo, and what wasn't.
Notes: For bibliophile1887 in the First Doctor Ficathon; apologies that this is far more companion-centric than Doctor-centric, but I tried to give him a look-in. Thanks to elen_ancalima for beta reading! Title is shamelessly stolen from Ambulance by TV on the Radio. ~1100 words.
the last chance saloon (turn that radio off)
He's unreasonably jealous that Dodo is off with Kate and Holliday; she'd never, she wouldn't, she's not even his. She's probably in mortal danger at this very moment.
(Her face as she played the piano and he sang: she was so pretty and alive. Resolute, determined: Holliday couldn't hurt her).
"You're a real pretty cowgirl, ma'am," he says, tipping his hat, one hand on his hip, near his gun. She laughs and curtseys, little skirt riding up, flaring out, a hint of creamy thigh underneath.
He wants to rescue her, riding into whatever sordid place Holliday is holding her on a wild stallion, guns ablaze. He doesn't even know where he gets that image. He wants to save her, see that smile.
(She's perfectly competent, of course, and saves herself; when he sheepishly admits his grand plan she giggles, and squeezes his arm).
He watches her head to the wardrobe to change out of her duds. The Doctor watches him watch her and harrumphs. He knows he should look away; he knows he can't stop watching her.
("You're a real handsome cowboy," she says to him and he bows, all elegant and strong until he trips over his own feet, and he wakes up).
She returns in a dress, all light and sun and what she calls "the 1960s" and he feels obsolete.
"Astronaut cowboys, it'll be all the rage next year," she says cheerfully, and reaches up on her tiptoes to brush her lips across his cheek. She's cleverer than she looks, Dodo Chaplet, and he'll sing until she says stop.
***
she's as sweet as sugar (will rot your teeth)
"Tell me another story," Dodo says, idly rubbing his back as they rest, curled up on each other, skin to skin. "I'm so very jealous of the time you spent with the Doctor without me, you know."
"So why do you want to hear about it?" Steven asks, genuine curiosity on his face. Dodo laughs, and kisses him again.
"Tell me another story," she repeats, "tell me something brave."
She has so much hope in her eyes; she's so very, impossibly young.
"I almost left the Doctor, once, just before we met you," he says. She murmurs in assent, privy to part of that story already. "I stayed because of you, really. Anne's descendant. Imagine that."
She's staring at him with those wide eyes. "Do I look like her?"
"It's too far of a distance to go for resemblances, really, Dodo," he chides, tweaking her nose. She giggles.
"I was never keen on history in school," she says, stretching her legs out along his. "But oh, I'm quite getting used to it now." She's so warm and soft and she shifts against him as she speaks, and he can't resist her. Warm, soft, impossibly young Dorothea under his fingers, yes.
(He remembers Anne that night, caught out after curfew, seeking shelter from the oncoming storm).
Dodo moves, arches, mewls in his ear and he comes hard and fast inside her.
(He remembers Anne that night, and realizes what he has done).
"Steven," she says, a little unsure, "you're disappearing on me."
"Sorry," he says, kissing her hair, holding her neck, not looking in her eyes. "Sorry," he says, "you reminded me of Anne there for a minute."
She smiles and preens, and he knows he can't leave the Doctor now.
***
she's a dead ringer (he sees what he wants to see)
Short, small, dark-haired, inquisitive. Yes, yes.
Steven watches the Doctor watch Dodo, and knows he doesn't see her as who she is, not yet.
"She's a clever girl," he says off-handedly, and the Doctor hmms in agreement.
"Yes, yes," the Doctor replies, and he's years and years away. "Not a whit of common sense, but that's youth for you, eh?"
"Now see here, Doctor," Steven says, "she's far more sensible than you give her credit for. What's she done wrong?"
"Oh, you know, you know," the Doctor equivocates. "She's terribly impudent, you see."
(Steven's not about to admit he doesn't know what that word means. It doesn't stop him from leaping in; it's always full steam ahead, damn the consequences, when the Doctor's around, trying his hardest to keep up, to keep up his worth in the Doctor's eyes).
"That whole business with the Daleks, and what was his name, David, was it?" the Doctor continues. "Nonsense. Have to keep a closer eye on her from now on."
(There was a girl, a fair-skinned girl from the unchartable future, and Dodo isn't her, can't be her, and he feels torn, a comfort to the Doctor or Dodo, a girl standing up on her own. He's fairness and righteousness, Steven, but this isn't black and white).
"I'll watch over her, Doctor," he says, and the Doctor's eyes twinkle with laughter.
"I'm sure you will, my boy," he replies, and claps Steven on the shoulder before wandering off, smiling to himself.
Dodo looks over from where she's sitting, smiles and waves at Steven, beckoning him to join her. Steven runs a hand over his chin, through his hair, and shrugs.
(Later she says: what did the Doctor say about me? And he lies through his teeth and tells her all the things he's always wanted to tell her, her smarts and sensibility and compassion and good looks. Don't shoot the pianist, he says, and she grins, stands up straight).
"She's a lovely girl," he says. "Doctor, where are we going next?" (Tumbling through space, the four of them live the lives of fifty more).
***
the stories they tell are not true (it travels in time as well as in space)
He doesn't leave: the society can rule itself, they don't need him, an interloper.
She doesn't cry: she doesn't miss him, she never needed him.
They don't hold each other in the night, safe wrapped up in each other while outside it could be daylight, it could be an asteroid storm, there could be vicious aliens, they could be a million years in the past; while outside they float through the void of space and to Steven it's a home he doesn't want to go home to and to Dodo it's something unfathomably large and mysterious.
The Doctor doesn't watch them with sad eyes: memories of what's gone past, and that they'll leave, one way or another, they leave.
It is the modern age and yet the TARDIS is sterile; it holds no memories of what could have been.
She kisses his cheek, a brief imprint of her lips on his skin and through it all time and space ripples, for just a moment, before sliding shut.
Author: livii
Characters: Steven/Dodo, One
Rating: R
Summary: The stories they tell are not true; it travels in time as well as in space. Steven and Dodo, and what wasn't.
Notes: For bibliophile1887 in the First Doctor Ficathon; apologies that this is far more companion-centric than Doctor-centric, but I tried to give him a look-in. Thanks to elen_ancalima for beta reading! Title is shamelessly stolen from Ambulance by TV on the Radio. ~1100 words.
the last chance saloon (turn that radio off)
He's unreasonably jealous that Dodo is off with Kate and Holliday; she'd never, she wouldn't, she's not even his. She's probably in mortal danger at this very moment.
(Her face as she played the piano and he sang: she was so pretty and alive. Resolute, determined: Holliday couldn't hurt her).
"You're a real pretty cowgirl, ma'am," he says, tipping his hat, one hand on his hip, near his gun. She laughs and curtseys, little skirt riding up, flaring out, a hint of creamy thigh underneath.
He wants to rescue her, riding into whatever sordid place Holliday is holding her on a wild stallion, guns ablaze. He doesn't even know where he gets that image. He wants to save her, see that smile.
(She's perfectly competent, of course, and saves herself; when he sheepishly admits his grand plan she giggles, and squeezes his arm).
He watches her head to the wardrobe to change out of her duds. The Doctor watches him watch her and harrumphs. He knows he should look away; he knows he can't stop watching her.
("You're a real handsome cowboy," she says to him and he bows, all elegant and strong until he trips over his own feet, and he wakes up).
She returns in a dress, all light and sun and what she calls "the 1960s" and he feels obsolete.
"Astronaut cowboys, it'll be all the rage next year," she says cheerfully, and reaches up on her tiptoes to brush her lips across his cheek. She's cleverer than she looks, Dodo Chaplet, and he'll sing until she says stop.
***
she's as sweet as sugar (will rot your teeth)
"Tell me another story," Dodo says, idly rubbing his back as they rest, curled up on each other, skin to skin. "I'm so very jealous of the time you spent with the Doctor without me, you know."
"So why do you want to hear about it?" Steven asks, genuine curiosity on his face. Dodo laughs, and kisses him again.
"Tell me another story," she repeats, "tell me something brave."
She has so much hope in her eyes; she's so very, impossibly young.
"I almost left the Doctor, once, just before we met you," he says. She murmurs in assent, privy to part of that story already. "I stayed because of you, really. Anne's descendant. Imagine that."
She's staring at him with those wide eyes. "Do I look like her?"
"It's too far of a distance to go for resemblances, really, Dodo," he chides, tweaking her nose. She giggles.
"I was never keen on history in school," she says, stretching her legs out along his. "But oh, I'm quite getting used to it now." She's so warm and soft and she shifts against him as she speaks, and he can't resist her. Warm, soft, impossibly young Dorothea under his fingers, yes.
(He remembers Anne that night, caught out after curfew, seeking shelter from the oncoming storm).
Dodo moves, arches, mewls in his ear and he comes hard and fast inside her.
(He remembers Anne that night, and realizes what he has done).
"Steven," she says, a little unsure, "you're disappearing on me."
"Sorry," he says, kissing her hair, holding her neck, not looking in her eyes. "Sorry," he says, "you reminded me of Anne there for a minute."
She smiles and preens, and he knows he can't leave the Doctor now.
***
she's a dead ringer (he sees what he wants to see)
Short, small, dark-haired, inquisitive. Yes, yes.
Steven watches the Doctor watch Dodo, and knows he doesn't see her as who she is, not yet.
"She's a clever girl," he says off-handedly, and the Doctor hmms in agreement.
"Yes, yes," the Doctor replies, and he's years and years away. "Not a whit of common sense, but that's youth for you, eh?"
"Now see here, Doctor," Steven says, "she's far more sensible than you give her credit for. What's she done wrong?"
"Oh, you know, you know," the Doctor equivocates. "She's terribly impudent, you see."
(Steven's not about to admit he doesn't know what that word means. It doesn't stop him from leaping in; it's always full steam ahead, damn the consequences, when the Doctor's around, trying his hardest to keep up, to keep up his worth in the Doctor's eyes).
"That whole business with the Daleks, and what was his name, David, was it?" the Doctor continues. "Nonsense. Have to keep a closer eye on her from now on."
(There was a girl, a fair-skinned girl from the unchartable future, and Dodo isn't her, can't be her, and he feels torn, a comfort to the Doctor or Dodo, a girl standing up on her own. He's fairness and righteousness, Steven, but this isn't black and white).
"I'll watch over her, Doctor," he says, and the Doctor's eyes twinkle with laughter.
"I'm sure you will, my boy," he replies, and claps Steven on the shoulder before wandering off, smiling to himself.
Dodo looks over from where she's sitting, smiles and waves at Steven, beckoning him to join her. Steven runs a hand over his chin, through his hair, and shrugs.
(Later she says: what did the Doctor say about me? And he lies through his teeth and tells her all the things he's always wanted to tell her, her smarts and sensibility and compassion and good looks. Don't shoot the pianist, he says, and she grins, stands up straight).
"She's a lovely girl," he says. "Doctor, where are we going next?" (Tumbling through space, the four of them live the lives of fifty more).
***
the stories they tell are not true (it travels in time as well as in space)
He doesn't leave: the society can rule itself, they don't need him, an interloper.
She doesn't cry: she doesn't miss him, she never needed him.
They don't hold each other in the night, safe wrapped up in each other while outside it could be daylight, it could be an asteroid storm, there could be vicious aliens, they could be a million years in the past; while outside they float through the void of space and to Steven it's a home he doesn't want to go home to and to Dodo it's something unfathomably large and mysterious.
The Doctor doesn't watch them with sad eyes: memories of what's gone past, and that they'll leave, one way or another, they leave.
It is the modern age and yet the TARDIS is sterile; it holds no memories of what could have been.
She kisses his cheek, a brief imprint of her lips on his skin and through it all time and space ripples, for just a moment, before sliding shut.