Weekly drabble challenge 7
Title: The Morning After
Author: the_willows
Rating: General
Prompt Word: Picture
Disclaimer: Property of the Beeb. I just borrow without asking.
Notes/Warning: Response to Weekly Drabble Challenge #7 at doctor_donna
Lyrics from 'Turning Japanese' by The Vapors
Donna stumbled into the kitchen, yawning, her pyjama jacket done up incorrectly, and hair like Albert Einstein.
The Doctor's eyes widened at the state of her; usually she was at least fastened properly and smiling.
"Rough night Donna?" he asked, trying not to smirk, which earned him a grunted reply.
Donna slumped into a chair at the table, and The Doctor set a cup of tea in front of her.
"Radio," she ordered, and he leant over the worktop to switch on the Digital radio that she'd insisted he 'sonic up' so she could listen to Radio One in the mornings while she adjusted to consciousness.
After the tea and some toast, Donna was soon a bit more coherent, and they had begun chatting about the previous day's shenanigans, when Donna suddenly stopped mid laugh and went pale.
I've got your picture, I've got your picture
I'd like a million of you all round my cell
I want a doctor to take your picture
So I can look at you from inside as well...
As the words from the song on the radio sank in, Donna slowly pushed her chair back from the table, her eyes widening in a look of confusion and horror.
"Donna? What's the matter?" The Doctor's own face wore a mask of confusion at her behaviour, quickly replaced by concern.
Donna eyed him warily.
"I had a dream... that song...pictures... I just remembered..." She put her hand to her head, frowning in confusion.
"It was so real...like it was happening...you were...you were..." She looked at him, covering her chest.
He looked back at her, his brows furrowed, eyes squinting at her.
"Donna, what on Earth are you talking about?"
"You!" she hissed, "you, in my dream, you were painting me."
The Doctor looked like he was making calculations in his head.
"And that how is me painting your portrait in your dream so disturbing?"
Donna stood, both arms wrapped tightly around her top half.
"No, not my portrait, me! You were actually painting me! Paintbrush, on my skin. Lots of your Gallifreyan swirly things, all over me. I was...I...you made... made me..." She looked at him disdainfully.
"You had me naked!"
The Doctor shot up from his chair.
"I most certainly did not! Donna, it was dream, and quite honestly, I don't want to get all Freudian on you, but if you're dreaming things like that then...no, wait, or is that Jungian...?" he paused weighing up the two schools of thought for a moment.
Donna was outraged.
"Are you about to tell me I dreamt this because I harbour some deep-seated fantasy about you?"
"Ah, well, I didn't mean..."
"Because you know what deep seated fantasy I'm harbouring about you right now, Sunshine?" Donna lowered her arms from her chest and took a side step to clear the obstructing table.
The Doctor backed away slightly, and calculated his odds of reaching the door, which was inconveniently behind Donna.
"Donna, I wasn't implying anything, just trying to be scientific, put you at ease," He gave her a nervous smile.
"Don't think that's going to make it better..." she began, but just then the TARDIS lurched to one side, sending them and the breakfast on to the floor.
"Well that's just peachy," spat Donna, getting up into a crouching position, and starting to pick up the broken crockery.
The Doctor helped her, and the tension seemed diffused momentarily.
"You missed a bit," he said, pointing to a mug handle on the floor behind her.
"Oh, right," she said, bending over, revealing an expanse of her back as her pyjama top rode up. And expanse, which, to his horror, the Doctor saw was decorated with Gallifreyan.
"Donna," he said softly, swallowing hard and trying desperately to think his way out of the situation.
"What?" she stood up and turned to face him. "Why are you all pink?"
He ran his hand through his hair desperately.
"You know that Calsedian brandy we sampled last night?"
She looked at him, her still vaguely pounding head not likely to forget in a hurry.
"Yeah, the one that you didn't feel any effects from, because you're a Time Lord and made of 'sterner stuff,' " she made sarcastic quotation marks in the air, eyeing him suspiciously.
He took a deep breath, and indicated a small quantity with his finger and thumb.
"Yeah, well, I may have been exaggerating my tolerance a smidge..."
Author: the_willows
Rating: General
Prompt Word: Picture
Disclaimer: Property of the Beeb. I just borrow without asking.
Notes/Warning: Response to Weekly Drabble Challenge #7 at doctor_donna
Lyrics from 'Turning Japanese' by The Vapors
Donna stumbled into the kitchen, yawning, her pyjama jacket done up incorrectly, and hair like Albert Einstein.
The Doctor's eyes widened at the state of her; usually she was at least fastened properly and smiling.
"Rough night Donna?" he asked, trying not to smirk, which earned him a grunted reply.
Donna slumped into a chair at the table, and The Doctor set a cup of tea in front of her.
"Radio," she ordered, and he leant over the worktop to switch on the Digital radio that she'd insisted he 'sonic up' so she could listen to Radio One in the mornings while she adjusted to consciousness.
After the tea and some toast, Donna was soon a bit more coherent, and they had begun chatting about the previous day's shenanigans, when Donna suddenly stopped mid laugh and went pale.
I've got your picture, I've got your picture
I'd like a million of you all round my cell
I want a doctor to take your picture
So I can look at you from inside as well...
As the words from the song on the radio sank in, Donna slowly pushed her chair back from the table, her eyes widening in a look of confusion and horror.
"Donna? What's the matter?" The Doctor's own face wore a mask of confusion at her behaviour, quickly replaced by concern.
Donna eyed him warily.
"I had a dream... that song...pictures... I just remembered..." She put her hand to her head, frowning in confusion.
"It was so real...like it was happening...you were...you were..." She looked at him, covering her chest.
He looked back at her, his brows furrowed, eyes squinting at her.
"Donna, what on Earth are you talking about?"
"You!" she hissed, "you, in my dream, you were painting me."
The Doctor looked like he was making calculations in his head.
"And that how is me painting your portrait in your dream so disturbing?"
Donna stood, both arms wrapped tightly around her top half.
"No, not my portrait, me! You were actually painting me! Paintbrush, on my skin. Lots of your Gallifreyan swirly things, all over me. I was...I...you made... made me..." She looked at him disdainfully.
"You had me naked!"
The Doctor shot up from his chair.
"I most certainly did not! Donna, it was dream, and quite honestly, I don't want to get all Freudian on you, but if you're dreaming things like that then...no, wait, or is that Jungian...?" he paused weighing up the two schools of thought for a moment.
Donna was outraged.
"Are you about to tell me I dreamt this because I harbour some deep-seated fantasy about you?"
"Ah, well, I didn't mean..."
"Because you know what deep seated fantasy I'm harbouring about you right now, Sunshine?" Donna lowered her arms from her chest and took a side step to clear the obstructing table.
The Doctor backed away slightly, and calculated his odds of reaching the door, which was inconveniently behind Donna.
"Donna, I wasn't implying anything, just trying to be scientific, put you at ease," He gave her a nervous smile.
"Don't think that's going to make it better..." she began, but just then the TARDIS lurched to one side, sending them and the breakfast on to the floor.
"Well that's just peachy," spat Donna, getting up into a crouching position, and starting to pick up the broken crockery.
The Doctor helped her, and the tension seemed diffused momentarily.
"You missed a bit," he said, pointing to a mug handle on the floor behind her.
"Oh, right," she said, bending over, revealing an expanse of her back as her pyjama top rode up. And expanse, which, to his horror, the Doctor saw was decorated with Gallifreyan.
"Donna," he said softly, swallowing hard and trying desperately to think his way out of the situation.
"What?" she stood up and turned to face him. "Why are you all pink?"
He ran his hand through his hair desperately.
"You know that Calsedian brandy we sampled last night?"
She looked at him, her still vaguely pounding head not likely to forget in a hurry.
"Yeah, the one that you didn't feel any effects from, because you're a Time Lord and made of 'sterner stuff,' " she made sarcastic quotation marks in the air, eyeing him suspiciously.
He took a deep breath, and indicated a small quantity with his finger and thumb.
"Yeah, well, I may have been exaggerating my tolerance a smidge..."