RP for haughty_alpha and 5th_doctor

[empirical_data]

[(Continued from here)]It was really fortunate Data remembered where either of their rooms were. It wasn't that his memory wasn't functioning, persay, but it was random fact over random fact, tumbling in an illogical order that trumped his processes. When he opened the door, he barely registered the cat skittering off to hide herself in the

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[5th_doctor]

And what a weight! Time Lords were encouraged to keep the extent of their strength hidden from other life forms, as they'd be certain to get taken advantage of. The Doctor did hold onto Data rather admirably, considering.

He followed the destination of his bag with the cricketing gear, deciding that that was the best place to settle himself. Near his things. His lovely, meaningful gifts from the TARDIS. He sprawled on the cushions, humming when they gave up a cheerful bounce against his weight.

"He doesn't sound like so clever a man if he requires an extra bit of...of...of...facial hair to contribute his help." He was still pullover-less, his braces shockingly exposed in all their question-marked glory. He drew a palm across his jaw. "I've gone all these years without...and it's never hindered me any?"

[empirical_data]

"He is intelligent without it. But he makes a very peculiar Watson in its absence, don't you think?" Data lowered his cheek next to the floor, one eye shut tight in a squint and the other wide so he could look beneath the couch, all the while his posterior hefted up in the air as he inch-wormed along the carpet.

"I can feel your stubble. Not a smooth bottom face in the least, Doctor. But that is fine, as I like things that are not perfect."

He popped up, a strand of his normally chiselled neat hair sticking up and arching before his face awkwardly, utterly perplexed. He could not find his pipe. Perhaps Spot had jammed it into the couch cushions, stashing it near the back. So easy enough, he climbed over the Doctor and started jamming his hand in the cushions to grope and feel around and at least managed to not put any knees, feet, or elbows in tender spots.

[5th_doctor]

"There have been some un-mustached Watsons," the Doctor countered, assured in his memory of such matters, even if he'd misplaced both his coat and his pullover. He didn't mind the cold. Few Time Lords did, but, ah, they weren't meant to show it, again.

"Well, there's a difference." He ought to explain. "Between stubble." A bit more. "And full facial hair growth." And he was about to expound on what those differences were when suddenly Data was upon him, pressing against him and wriggling along him and shoving his hands deep into the cushions. "Ah, hello!" he said, brightly. "Data, I do a-ppre-ci-ate that you've decided to stay close but I do enjoy my space."

"Personal space. Space that's personal." And his and his alone.

Data was shifting dangerously close to those tender spots, though.

He took the time to smooth out that single hair sticking out of place upon Data's head, licking at his fingers before dragging them through those strands, his face framed in a fond grin.

[empirical_data]

"I know. I had facial hair once. It looked... unbecoming." Though at the time it was an experiment, and now it took effort to collect the memory and that effort only resulted in another keening chuckle that vibrated deep in Data's chest. Judging from the way his hairline was chiselled, it was easy to imagine how facial hair would have looked.

But then the Doctor was tending to his hair, and Data actually held still for it. Letting his snicker peter off to a dopey, utterly pleased grin at the soothing grooming. "It was not your personal space a - mo - ment - a - go." He poked his finger against the tip of his rounded Time Lord nose, and quirked it gently from side to side and up and down with each syllable as he spoke.

He was supposed to be doing something wasn't he? Figuring out what these question marks? No! Finding his pipe. That was it. But why did he need that? It had something to do with Avon needing a mustache.

...Wait, what?