DW Fic Fest Entry
Title: Bon Appetit
Author: gorengal
Disclaimer: If I owned them, fans outside the UK would be able to watch the BBC's online content.
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Ten, Donna, Martha
A/N: Written for the Fifteen Ways Donna Shut the Doctor Up Fic Fest at doctor_donna. Thanks to catvampcrazines for running the fic fest, and thanks to woffproff who inspired a couple of scenes here. Not saying which ones. :D
//
“Need any help in there?” Martha called from the console room.
“No, thanks,” Donna yelled from the TARDIS kitchen, “almost ready.” She carried the turkey platter to the dining table and placed it in the centre. The TARDIS did provide a lovely Christmas table, she thought. The deep green tablecloth set off the gold-rimmed china beautifully, and the crystal wine glasses sparkled like diamonds in the flickering candlelight. Even the walls of the dining room were festooned with thick garlands of greenery, holly, and ribbon. Donna had nicked the Doctor’s sonic screwdriver so she could activate the “retractable roof” feature. The roof didn’t really retract, but the ceiling sort of dissolved away so the twinkling stars were visible. They look close enough to touch, Donna thought. Much nicer than any Christmas lights.
Eyeing the burnt turkey, she dimmed the lights a bit and hoped Martha and the Doctor wouldn’t notice. “All right, you two...dinner’s on the table.”
Martha and the Doctor entered the dining room and exclaimed over the food-laden table. It was nice having Martha on board again, although Donna wasn’t sure what possessed her to suggest an early Christmas celebration to the Doctor.
“It’ll be fun, Spaceman. I can cook a traditional Christmas dinner for us, and we’ll invite Martha and Tom.”
“But Donna, you said you hated Christmas.”
“I know, I know. But we’ll do it a few weeks before Christmas, so it doesn’t really count. Besides, Christmas Day always goes pear-shaped when you’re around...I’m sure we’ll be doing the usual running and saving the world.”
The Doctor grimaced like a school boy about to swallow his dose of cod liver oil. “Doooo-nnaaaaa....” He added a groan for effect before giving in. “Ohh....all right. Christmas dinner, Martha and Tom.”
Donna bounced happily and gave him a quick hug. “I’ll ring Martha on the super-mobile.”
Unfortunately, Tom was still on assignment in Africa, but Martha was able to get leave from UNIT and join the early celebration on the TARDIS.
“Doctor, would you do the honours?” Donna handed him the carving set. He brandished the knife with a flourish and attacked the tough bird. After struggling for a few minutes, the Doctor noticed his screwdriver on the sideboard and focused its blue light on the turkey.
“Just needs a bit of tenderising...there we go,” he said. He passed the platter to Martha and Donna, and reserved a crispy leg for himself. The rest of the dishes were passed and the dining room was silent, except for the clinking of silverware on china...and the occasional grunts as one of the trio struggled with cutting the roasted potatoes.
“Bit like a billiards ball,” the Doctor muttered.
“What was that?” Donna asked sharply.
“Oh, I was just reminded of the ball I attended for Madame de Pompadour. You know, the French really know how to....”
“We know, you invented the banana daiquiri. Save it, Spaceman.”
Martha decided to intervene before they really started going at it. “Donna, these sprouts are very...tasty,” she said as she choked one down.
“Those are the carrots,” Donna said, and then looked daggers at the Doctor as he failed to hide his snort of laughter.
The Doctor shovelled a heaping spoonful of stuffing into his mouth, and then coughed until his eyes watered while he tried to swallow. “A bit...dry. Pass the gravy please, Donna.”
“There is no gravy!” she shouted, thinking of the mess that awaited her in the kitchen. The gravy had boiled over when she wasn’t looking and was dripping down the front of the stove, probably hardened like glue by now.
Donna pushed her chair back with a huff and retrieved the Christmas pudding from the sideboard. After dousing it with a very liberal amount of brandy that made Martha raise her brows, Donna started to light a long wooden match from one of the candles on the table.
“Donna!” shouted the Doctor. “You’re not planning to light that thing, are you? The TARDIS has barely recovered from the grease fire you started last month.” He turned to Martha. “The place stank for two days. She even set off the cloister bell! Why, we’d have been burnt to a crisp if it hadn’t been for….”
“Oi!” Donna banged her hand down on the dining table. She was sick and tired of the Doctor’s teasing about her lack of cooking skills. Her lower lip trembled, and her chin began to quiver. She sniffled and attempted to stifle the sob rising from her chest.
The Doctor fell silent. Martha glared at him across the table and nodded once in Donna’s direction. He stood and awkwardly reached for Donna, patting her arms. “Uh...there, there…”
Donna closed the distance between them, laying her head on his shoulder and crying. Despite his discomfort, the Doctor truly felt bad about making Donna cry, and he whispered his apologies while hugging her tightly.
Donna glanced at Martha with dry eyes and winked. Works every time.
Author: gorengal
Disclaimer: If I owned them, fans outside the UK would be able to watch the BBC's online content.
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Ten, Donna, Martha
A/N: Written for the Fifteen Ways Donna Shut the Doctor Up Fic Fest at doctor_donna. Thanks to catvampcrazines for running the fic fest, and thanks to woffproff who inspired a couple of scenes here. Not saying which ones. :D
//
“Need any help in there?” Martha called from the console room.
“No, thanks,” Donna yelled from the TARDIS kitchen, “almost ready.” She carried the turkey platter to the dining table and placed it in the centre. The TARDIS did provide a lovely Christmas table, she thought. The deep green tablecloth set off the gold-rimmed china beautifully, and the crystal wine glasses sparkled like diamonds in the flickering candlelight. Even the walls of the dining room were festooned with thick garlands of greenery, holly, and ribbon. Donna had nicked the Doctor’s sonic screwdriver so she could activate the “retractable roof” feature. The roof didn’t really retract, but the ceiling sort of dissolved away so the twinkling stars were visible. They look close enough to touch, Donna thought. Much nicer than any Christmas lights.
Eyeing the burnt turkey, she dimmed the lights a bit and hoped Martha and the Doctor wouldn’t notice. “All right, you two...dinner’s on the table.”
Martha and the Doctor entered the dining room and exclaimed over the food-laden table. It was nice having Martha on board again, although Donna wasn’t sure what possessed her to suggest an early Christmas celebration to the Doctor.
“It’ll be fun, Spaceman. I can cook a traditional Christmas dinner for us, and we’ll invite Martha and Tom.”
“But Donna, you said you hated Christmas.”
“I know, I know. But we’ll do it a few weeks before Christmas, so it doesn’t really count. Besides, Christmas Day always goes pear-shaped when you’re around...I’m sure we’ll be doing the usual running and saving the world.”
The Doctor grimaced like a school boy about to swallow his dose of cod liver oil. “Doooo-nnaaaaa....” He added a groan for effect before giving in. “Ohh....all right. Christmas dinner, Martha and Tom.”
Donna bounced happily and gave him a quick hug. “I’ll ring Martha on the super-mobile.”
Unfortunately, Tom was still on assignment in Africa, but Martha was able to get leave from UNIT and join the early celebration on the TARDIS.
“Doctor, would you do the honours?” Donna handed him the carving set. He brandished the knife with a flourish and attacked the tough bird. After struggling for a few minutes, the Doctor noticed his screwdriver on the sideboard and focused its blue light on the turkey.
“Just needs a bit of tenderising...there we go,” he said. He passed the platter to Martha and Donna, and reserved a crispy leg for himself. The rest of the dishes were passed and the dining room was silent, except for the clinking of silverware on china...and the occasional grunts as one of the trio struggled with cutting the roasted potatoes.
“Bit like a billiards ball,” the Doctor muttered.
“What was that?” Donna asked sharply.
“Oh, I was just reminded of the ball I attended for Madame de Pompadour. You know, the French really know how to....”
“We know, you invented the banana daiquiri. Save it, Spaceman.”
Martha decided to intervene before they really started going at it. “Donna, these sprouts are very...tasty,” she said as she choked one down.
“Those are the carrots,” Donna said, and then looked daggers at the Doctor as he failed to hide his snort of laughter.
The Doctor shovelled a heaping spoonful of stuffing into his mouth, and then coughed until his eyes watered while he tried to swallow. “A bit...dry. Pass the gravy please, Donna.”
“There is no gravy!” she shouted, thinking of the mess that awaited her in the kitchen. The gravy had boiled over when she wasn’t looking and was dripping down the front of the stove, probably hardened like glue by now.
Donna pushed her chair back with a huff and retrieved the Christmas pudding from the sideboard. After dousing it with a very liberal amount of brandy that made Martha raise her brows, Donna started to light a long wooden match from one of the candles on the table.
“Donna!” shouted the Doctor. “You’re not planning to light that thing, are you? The TARDIS has barely recovered from the grease fire you started last month.” He turned to Martha. “The place stank for two days. She even set off the cloister bell! Why, we’d have been burnt to a crisp if it hadn’t been for….”
“Oi!” Donna banged her hand down on the dining table. She was sick and tired of the Doctor’s teasing about her lack of cooking skills. Her lower lip trembled, and her chin began to quiver. She sniffled and attempted to stifle the sob rising from her chest.
The Doctor fell silent. Martha glared at him across the table and nodded once in Donna’s direction. He stood and awkwardly reached for Donna, patting her arms. “Uh...there, there…”
Donna closed the distance between them, laying her head on his shoulder and crying. Despite his discomfort, the Doctor truly felt bad about making Donna cry, and he whispered his apologies while hugging her tightly.
Donna glanced at Martha with dry eyes and winked. Works every time.