the nitty-gritty (doctor who, young amelia and eleven)
Title: The Nitty-Gritty
Word Count: 630
Characters/Pairings: Eleven and 7-year-old Amelia
Summary: Amelia Pond is adamant, and she will not be swayed.
Warnings: Not a spoiler in sight. For the "New Year's" theme at docwholand
Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC and Steven Moffat. I am just playing around.
Also, in case it's news to anyone, I am also taking requests if there's anything in particular you guys want to see. :)
The Doctor tries to convince her to pick somewhere else-- anywhere else. There are plenty of places so much better suited to the two of them.
There’s Romontry, for instance, a planet that has festivals of celebration for the entirety of the month that their moon can be seen in the sky before it disappears for another year. The food is good, the dancing and music is better, and, most importantly, the people don’t shove and push just to get the best view.
Then there is Spearehead: a terraformed moon whose colonists celebrate their winter solstice by honouring the life and times of William Shakespeare-- an entire civilisation devoted to the speaking of his sonnets to putting on his plays, isn’t that amazing? He’d want to go there, if he were her.
But no, Amelia Pond is adamant, and she will not be swayed: the ball drop in Times Square on New Year’s Eve is what she wants to see. It was all Jeffrey Roth ever talked about after the winter holidays last year, she says, and it sounds amazing.
("It doesn't have anything on Spearehead," the Doctor mumbles dejectedly, but he's already putting in the coordinates when Amelia counters:
"But Jeffrey doesn't know about Spearehead! I can't tell him about something that he doesn't know about! Can't we just go to Spearehead tomorrow?"
"Two New Years in a row? Now, Pond, that would only serve to make it lose its poignancy.")
The streets are crowded. People are packed in like sardines who haven't been given enough room in their tiny tin box. The Doctor stands in the crowd with his hands around Amelia's ankles, her heels kicking against his chest as she grips his hair and leans against the top of his head, sighing in exasperation.
"Nothing's happening!"
"Plenty's happening!" The Doctor is jovial as he shifts her on his shoulders, grinning at the people huddled together in groups around them in attempts to stay warm. "There are people all around us! It's packed! This is the night of December 31st, 1999-- the biggest New Year's Eve before the human race starts its adventures and misadventures out to the stars! There won't ever be another New Year's in the Big Apple quite like this one."
Amelia tugs her hat down over her eyes and sighs again, louder than before. "It's boring. I thought New York had parties all the time? All the people here are doing here is standing and waiting!" The Doctor chuckles lightly, twisting his head to look up at her.
"I hate to tell you this, Pond, but the parties really aren't in Times Square." He can see her eyes bulge from the corner of his eye.
"Then where are they?"
"Manhattan, Brooklyn, in bars and pubs and clubs-- Times Square is like the face behind the celebration. Everybody knows it, but the real nitty-gritty bits happens on the other parts of the body." Amelia giggles and digs her heels into the Doctor's chest, and he frowns, thinking that over. "That analogy didn't come out the way I'd intended."
"Can we go to the nitty-gritty parts of the body, Doctor?"
"Shut up."
"Because the face is boring."
"Pond."
"And the other parts sound much more exciting."
"Amelia. Blimey, just what do they teach kids at school in 1996?"
"Jeffrey--"
"Roth," he finishes for her, spinning around on his feet and pushes his way back through the crowd. "Yes, I should have figured. Right, come on, we're going."
"What?" Amelia clutches at his head and kicks his chest again. "Why? The ball hasn't dropped!"
"And it won't for two and a half more hours yet. You're cold and you're bored and you'll see..." The Doctor grins up at her, gives her a wink. "Spearehead is amazing."
Word Count: 630
Characters/Pairings: Eleven and 7-year-old Amelia
Summary: Amelia Pond is adamant, and she will not be swayed.
Warnings: Not a spoiler in sight. For the "New Year's" theme at docwholand
Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC and Steven Moffat. I am just playing around.
Also, in case it's news to anyone, I am also taking requests if there's anything in particular you guys want to see. :)
The Doctor tries to convince her to pick somewhere else-- anywhere else. There are plenty of places so much better suited to the two of them.
There’s Romontry, for instance, a planet that has festivals of celebration for the entirety of the month that their moon can be seen in the sky before it disappears for another year. The food is good, the dancing and music is better, and, most importantly, the people don’t shove and push just to get the best view.
Then there is Spearehead: a terraformed moon whose colonists celebrate their winter solstice by honouring the life and times of William Shakespeare-- an entire civilisation devoted to the speaking of his sonnets to putting on his plays, isn’t that amazing? He’d want to go there, if he were her.
But no, Amelia Pond is adamant, and she will not be swayed: the ball drop in Times Square on New Year’s Eve is what she wants to see. It was all Jeffrey Roth ever talked about after the winter holidays last year, she says, and it sounds amazing.
("It doesn't have anything on Spearehead," the Doctor mumbles dejectedly, but he's already putting in the coordinates when Amelia counters:
"But Jeffrey doesn't know about Spearehead! I can't tell him about something that he doesn't know about! Can't we just go to Spearehead tomorrow?"
"Two New Years in a row? Now, Pond, that would only serve to make it lose its poignancy.")
The streets are crowded. People are packed in like sardines who haven't been given enough room in their tiny tin box. The Doctor stands in the crowd with his hands around Amelia's ankles, her heels kicking against his chest as she grips his hair and leans against the top of his head, sighing in exasperation.
"Nothing's happening!"
"Plenty's happening!" The Doctor is jovial as he shifts her on his shoulders, grinning at the people huddled together in groups around them in attempts to stay warm. "There are people all around us! It's packed! This is the night of December 31st, 1999-- the biggest New Year's Eve before the human race starts its adventures and misadventures out to the stars! There won't ever be another New Year's in the Big Apple quite like this one."
Amelia tugs her hat down over her eyes and sighs again, louder than before. "It's boring. I thought New York had parties all the time? All the people here are doing here is standing and waiting!" The Doctor chuckles lightly, twisting his head to look up at her.
"I hate to tell you this, Pond, but the parties really aren't in Times Square." He can see her eyes bulge from the corner of his eye.
"Then where are they?"
"Manhattan, Brooklyn, in bars and pubs and clubs-- Times Square is like the face behind the celebration. Everybody knows it, but the real nitty-gritty bits happens on the other parts of the body." Amelia giggles and digs her heels into the Doctor's chest, and he frowns, thinking that over. "That analogy didn't come out the way I'd intended."
"Can we go to the nitty-gritty parts of the body, Doctor?"
"Shut up."
"Because the face is boring."
"Pond."
"And the other parts sound much more exciting."
"Amelia. Blimey, just what do they teach kids at school in 1996?"
"Jeffrey--"
"Roth," he finishes for her, spinning around on his feet and pushes his way back through the crowd. "Yes, I should have figured. Right, come on, we're going."
"What?" Amelia clutches at his head and kicks his chest again. "Why? The ball hasn't dropped!"
"And it won't for two and a half more hours yet. You're cold and you're bored and you'll see..." The Doctor grins up at her, gives her a wink. "Spearehead is amazing."