Fic: Beverages and Explanations
Title: Beverages and Explanations
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Eleven/Canton Delaware
Rating: PG
Word Count: 844
Spoilers: 6x02
Disclaimer: In no way mine, or anything to do with me, I own nothing.
Summary: The Doctor has personally witnessed hot beverages solve a difficult problem at least twelve times.
AN: Written for the Five Acts Meme.
The Doctor has personally witnessed hot beverages solve a difficult problem at least twelve times. Which is why he comes armed with one, when he's determined to talk to Canton about the incident. The italics in his head are absolutely necessary, because there's something about having your world view tilted sixty degrees that deserves emphasis.
It had happened while saving a space station from robotic beetles. So, just an ordinary day, nothing special, nothing especially special. No space viruses. No mind control. No excuses.
Canton's staring at the console again, with the fierce look of a man who's going to pretend he knows how everything works, until evidence is provided to the contrary. The fact that the Doctor has a hot beverage doesn't help him with how to broach the subject. But he can almost feel Amy giving him a kick up the backside. She believes in affirmative action.
"About the kissing," he starts. Because when in doubt, get to the point.
"Do you want me to apologise?" Canton's face is suspicion on top of a careful blandness, which the Doctor doesn’t like at all.
"No - no, no." The Doctor finds a lever to fiddle with. "Normally I bring people with me, lovely excitable people and there are adventures and 'oohing' and 'ahhing' and occasionally running for our lives."
The Doctor nods, but Canton's still looking confused, and he realises that wasn't really an explanation.
"But there isn't really much...any, really. It's all very platonic. That's not the point of it."
"That's pretty depressing." Canton's paying far too much attention to him now, though he thinks that's kind of the point. That's what started this. That and the running, and being in peril. He has a better, and strangely intimate understanding of how the running and being in peril leads to so much kissing now. It's like having the flu, an exciting sort of flu. He's not sure he completely likes knowing that. He really is too old for this, for this messy and complicated and confusing sexuality.
"Oh, I'm not saying the in-peril kissing thing doesn’t happen occasionally. Only I'm not usually so much of an enthusiastic participant. But there were compliments and quite a lot of excitement involved all around. And with all the kissing people have been springing on me lately, it's understandable that I got all confused and improbable - " the Doctor waves a hand, because that's not right. "No, not improbable, that's not a good word, not a very complimentary word. It was very probable indeed. Spontaneous, that's a good word, a much better word. Interesting, and sort of tingly."
The Doctor frowns because his ability to describe things is usually more advanced than this. And now Canton is leaning against the console and looking at him like he's mad.
"I'm usually rather good at being spontaneous. But not quite so...aggressive. Maybe this is an apology." He looks down at the cup of tea he's still holding, which is losing heat rapidly as the conversation progresses. It's also the wrong hot beverage, he suspects. "You're American, stupid of me, you'll want coffee. I'm not sure I have any coffee, there was that terrible mishap a while back where we had to drop it all on a herd of camels - funny story actually...only not really, more of a long story come to think of it."
Canton reaches a hand out and slowly takes the tea, he suspects just to shut him up. He's careful not to touch his hand at all. Which is irritating, because the touching he'd quite liked and he was hoping for further evidence.
"So not an apology, more of a -" Canton Delaware gives the tea an odd look and then sets it down, somewhere he seems to think is relatively safe. "Friendly course correction." There's a flat sort of acceptance there, and the Doctor's shaking his head before he's even thought of a good metaphor for what it actually is - whatever it is he's probably making a mess of it.
"It's all very confusing and I'm not very good at this sort of confusing. This sort of confusing is a new and fuzzy variable which I don't quite trust. So I shall probably get it horribly wrong, somehow. We could be wildly incompatible. I could change my mind tomorrow. I could have three heads for all you know."
For the first time Canton doesn't look carefully polite. He looks both amused and slightly unnerved instead.
"Do you have three heads?" he asks, is forced to ask, really.
"No, no just the one," the Doctor assures him hurriedly. Because he suspects having only one head is a definite plus in his favour here. "This one, naturally, which I at no point swap out for another one - except when I - no too much information for this conversation." The Doctor points at him. "And I should shut up now."
"So," Canton says slowly. In the sort of tone one might start an interrogation in. "If I was to kiss you again at some indeterminate point in the future. Possibly when we're running for our lives, or something's trying to kill us."
Nine hundred years and the universe can still surprise him.
"I think I'd like that," the Doctor says firmly.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Eleven/Canton Delaware
Rating: PG
Word Count: 844
Spoilers: 6x02
Disclaimer: In no way mine, or anything to do with me, I own nothing.
Summary: The Doctor has personally witnessed hot beverages solve a difficult problem at least twelve times.
AN: Written for the Five Acts Meme.
The Doctor has personally witnessed hot beverages solve a difficult problem at least twelve times. Which is why he comes armed with one, when he's determined to talk to Canton about the incident. The italics in his head are absolutely necessary, because there's something about having your world view tilted sixty degrees that deserves emphasis.
It had happened while saving a space station from robotic beetles. So, just an ordinary day, nothing special, nothing especially special. No space viruses. No mind control. No excuses.
Canton's staring at the console again, with the fierce look of a man who's going to pretend he knows how everything works, until evidence is provided to the contrary. The fact that the Doctor has a hot beverage doesn't help him with how to broach the subject. But he can almost feel Amy giving him a kick up the backside. She believes in affirmative action.
"About the kissing," he starts. Because when in doubt, get to the point.
"Do you want me to apologise?" Canton's face is suspicion on top of a careful blandness, which the Doctor doesn’t like at all.
"No - no, no." The Doctor finds a lever to fiddle with. "Normally I bring people with me, lovely excitable people and there are adventures and 'oohing' and 'ahhing' and occasionally running for our lives."
The Doctor nods, but Canton's still looking confused, and he realises that wasn't really an explanation.
"But there isn't really much...any, really. It's all very platonic. That's not the point of it."
"That's pretty depressing." Canton's paying far too much attention to him now, though he thinks that's kind of the point. That's what started this. That and the running, and being in peril. He has a better, and strangely intimate understanding of how the running and being in peril leads to so much kissing now. It's like having the flu, an exciting sort of flu. He's not sure he completely likes knowing that. He really is too old for this, for this messy and complicated and confusing sexuality.
"Oh, I'm not saying the in-peril kissing thing doesn’t happen occasionally. Only I'm not usually so much of an enthusiastic participant. But there were compliments and quite a lot of excitement involved all around. And with all the kissing people have been springing on me lately, it's understandable that I got all confused and improbable - " the Doctor waves a hand, because that's not right. "No, not improbable, that's not a good word, not a very complimentary word. It was very probable indeed. Spontaneous, that's a good word, a much better word. Interesting, and sort of tingly."
The Doctor frowns because his ability to describe things is usually more advanced than this. And now Canton is leaning against the console and looking at him like he's mad.
"I'm usually rather good at being spontaneous. But not quite so...aggressive. Maybe this is an apology." He looks down at the cup of tea he's still holding, which is losing heat rapidly as the conversation progresses. It's also the wrong hot beverage, he suspects. "You're American, stupid of me, you'll want coffee. I'm not sure I have any coffee, there was that terrible mishap a while back where we had to drop it all on a herd of camels - funny story actually...only not really, more of a long story come to think of it."
Canton reaches a hand out and slowly takes the tea, he suspects just to shut him up. He's careful not to touch his hand at all. Which is irritating, because the touching he'd quite liked and he was hoping for further evidence.
"So not an apology, more of a -" Canton Delaware gives the tea an odd look and then sets it down, somewhere he seems to think is relatively safe. "Friendly course correction." There's a flat sort of acceptance there, and the Doctor's shaking his head before he's even thought of a good metaphor for what it actually is - whatever it is he's probably making a mess of it.
"It's all very confusing and I'm not very good at this sort of confusing. This sort of confusing is a new and fuzzy variable which I don't quite trust. So I shall probably get it horribly wrong, somehow. We could be wildly incompatible. I could change my mind tomorrow. I could have three heads for all you know."
For the first time Canton doesn't look carefully polite. He looks both amused and slightly unnerved instead.
"Do you have three heads?" he asks, is forced to ask, really.
"No, no just the one," the Doctor assures him hurriedly. Because he suspects having only one head is a definite plus in his favour here. "This one, naturally, which I at no point swap out for another one - except when I - no too much information for this conversation." The Doctor points at him. "And I should shut up now."
"So," Canton says slowly. In the sort of tone one might start an interrogation in. "If I was to kiss you again at some indeterminate point in the future. Possibly when we're running for our lives, or something's trying to kill us."
Nine hundred years and the universe can still surprise him.
"I think I'd like that," the Doctor says firmly.