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doyle_sb4 in who_otp

Drabble tag

In the interests of increasing the number of pairings written for this fandom - anyone up for a game of drabble tag? I've played this a couple of times in Buffy fandom (and ran the truly epic buffyverse1000): the object is that you start with one or a few pairings (and maybe prompts). Someone writes a drabble for one and suggests 3 more pairings. And so on.

So you would have, for example:

drabble drabble drabble...and then Tegan and Jamie done sex.

Next request: Four/Ian, Leela/Romana, Jack/Rose/Eight

Anyone fancy it and could suggest some pairings/prompts to get us started? I'm procrastinating wildly on ficathon assignments.

ETA: Right, we have some prompts!

Due to the massive size of the links/requests list, it has been moved to its own post

Ficlets don't have to be exactly 100 words but they do need to fit into an LJ comment. It's okay to duplicate a pairing but try not to (threesomes and upwards are allowed and encouraged)

Note: in the interests of giving all companions equal chance of slutting it up with as many Doctors as possible, this community's usual restrictions on Nine/Rose, Ten/Rose, Nine/Jack and Ten/Jack will be waived for this game...


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It was a bit awkward afterwards. During was fine; during, to their mutual astonishment, was more than fine. They even managed to see the benefit of that Working Together Towards One Goal thing the Doctor was always going on about, though presumably he’d meant for everyone to be clothed at the time.

Then, getting their breath back, they remembered they didn’t like each other all that much, and they both went a bit quiet. Turlough wondered whether this was what the Doctor had meant when he’d suggested the two of them should try to get along better. Tegan wondered how she was going to get her knickers down from the top of the wardrobe.

“Well,” Turlough said, and then stopped. Tegan was geared up to call him names and mock his performance, just on the principal of the thing, but decided she couldn’t be arsed. Not because he’d worn her out, she told herself.

“You probably want to go back to your own room and shower,” she said.

“Mm.” He didn’t move. “I think you bit me. Are all Earthwomen as… violent as you?”

“Says a lot that you don’t know, doesn’t it?” She looked sidelong at him. He’d sounded damn near admiring. “That tongue thing you did,” she said grudgingly, “suppose that was all right. I mean, that was a one-off, obviously,” she added. “The whole sex business. Can’t believe we did it, crazy accident, we’ll never do it again.”


“It’s stupid.”

“Absurd, I would have said.”

“It’s not as if we’re even friends.”

“And it’d annoy the Doctor.”

They were quiet for a minute, both sure that somewhere in the deep silence they could hear the Doctor making tea or contriving to land them in mortal danger.

“Do you reckon?” Tegan asked.

“Oh, definitely. We’d never hear the end of it.” Turlough traced the length of her spine with one finger. Slowly. She clenched her teeth, determined not to gasp or moan or give any sort of sign that she was enjoying that. Let him think she might put her nails to very good use at any moment. Keep him guessing.

“Oh, well,” she said, “if it’s for a good cause…”

Next request: Eight/Fitz, Ten/Sarah, Leela/Romana II
I've just woken up, so I can't wrap my brain about ficcing yet, but I might try in an hour or two. Here are two ficlets I'd like to see, if anyone is interested:

Anyone/Adric (that isn't bashing him)


I, Adric.

"Now I'll never know if I was right."

Adric clutched the rope belt that had once belonged to his brother, watching the Earth grow larger in the viewscreen. Larger. Larger. Lar-- Oh. It'd stopped.

Well, that was a bit odd.

"You were right," said a familiar voice. "Or, at least, I was."

Adric swung around to see... Adric?!

"Yes, it's you," said Adric. "Or rather me. Well, I am you. It's a bit difficult to explain really."

"You're me from a parallel timeline," Adric said.

"...oh. Well then it isn't that difficult to explain," Adric said.

"But why are you here? And why aren't we plummeting to my doom?"

"Pausing time was the first trick we learnt," said another Adric, absently kicking the dead cyberman. "You know, they were Daleks in my timeline." He patted the Dalek weapon hanging from his own rope belt.

"You see, Adric," said Adric, who was fiddling with his star for Excellence, "just before I died, I ran through the spacetime equations I'd learned while onboard the TARDIS, and I realised that they were telling me the time itself was an entirely subjective concept."

"And, of course," said Adric, "time and space are all one, really, so, in a sense, all time and space is just thought, which was rather a good thought to have before the Daleks killed me, I thought."

"Of course!" said Adric, waving his belt. "It's so obvious! But if space and time and thought are all the same, then so is mass and energy -- why, the very foundations of physics itself can be reduced to a simple set of mathematical axioms!"

"I told you he'd get it," said Adric.

"I knew you would," Adric agreed.

"Well, we are rather bright," another Adric said.

"And the more of us there are," a fifth Adric said, "the better we become. Bouncing our thoughts off each other, running the maths together."

"Like computers in parallel, but better," the third Adric added. "Each one of us is just different enough to bring something new to the whole. We're a perfect evolving gestalt."

"And there are other benefits, too."

"Other benefits?" asked Adric, eying the others speculatively. "Am I thinking what you're thinking?"

"Exactly," said Adric, as space became time, became thought, became a splendid bedroom with velvet curtains and silk sheets and pillows and an impressively large bed. "It is the best solution; we're mathematical certain."

Adric believed Adric, but was quite happy when the proof was demonstrated anyway.


Pairings: One/Barbara, Jamie/Ben/Polly, Four/Romana/Adric


I'm working on something long and angsty, so I couldn't resist the chance to do something short and silly.

Rose and Mickey had gone off together, and the Doctor had watched them go, then asked if he could spend the night in her hotel room.

"Just remember Humans need sleep. You're not to keep me up talking all night."

He'd just grinned.

Somehow they ended up lying on the big bed next to each other talking and laughing like they used to back when she had travelled with him. The Doctor had stripped off his jacket but otherwise they were both still fully clothed. Their talk was full of 'remember whens' and 'can you believes'. Sarah had forgotten how much fun this was.

Before they knew it, they were snarking on each other's impractical clothing choices over the years. Long scarves, white dresses, velvet jackets and overalls. Though the Doctor did have to admit that the overalls were at least practical.

"I think we have to call it a draw," Sarah said finally, "70's fashion versus a sartorially challenged Time Lord. We'll never be able to choose a winner."

"Speak for yourself," The Doctor drew the pillow out from under his head and started hitting her with it, grinning.

"Ooh, pillow fight." Sarah yelped, "Don't underestimate the powers of an abandoned woman." She threw her pillow at him, and while he was distracted (it had knocked his glasses askew) she started tickling him.

"And people say I'm immature," he said, as he abandoned his own pillow for a more direct attack.

Of course it wasn't long before fingers started seeking out places they weren't supposed to be, buttons and zips and hooks being unfastened, clothing falling abandoned to the floor, speech giving way to whimpers and sighs. They'd never been very good at playing 'hands off'.

Afterwards they ended up lying as they had been before (excepting the current lack of clothing), smiling at each other contentedly.

"I really should have come back to visit." The Doctor said lazily, tracing patterns on Sarah's skin.

"I told you so." Sarah smirked at him. "I wouldn't mind if you showed up on my doorstep for a shag occasionally."

"Not coming with us then. You should. Please. Please. Please. Think of all the lovely sex we could have."

"I'm sure Rose would love that."

"She was perfectly happy sharing me with Jack. Course he was young, male and movie star handsome, so you might have a point."

"Did you just imply Rose is somewhat shallow?"

"Who me? No. Never. And if you tell her so I'll deny every word of it."

"Tell you what, I'll stay home and have adventures, then we'll have lots to talk about when you come round because Rose is being shallow and clingy and you need adult conversation."

"And do you promise to have an adult there for me to talk to?"

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Aren't you the one who once told me, 'what's the point of being grown-up if you can't act childish'?"


Sarah rolled over onto her side and started nibbling his earlobe. "Another round?"

"Thought you'd never ask. Ummmm. I am definitely coming by more often."

And he did. Especially when Rose started talking about mortgages.

More prompts: Sarah/Liz, Jo/Rose, Nine/Jack/Sarah


It was only eleven and Jo had already drunkenly told at least three people she was a spy and sworn them to absolute secrecy. Tomorrow morning she’d fret a bit about that, but tonight there were pink drinks to be drunk, really dishy (and really unavailable) men to dance with and new best friends to be made. Her current one was a girl called Rose, who she’d cornered in the ladies loos.

“I never come to places like this,” Jo insisted. “I’m not a lesbian or anything. I’ve never even thought about girls that way, apart from Diana Rigg and I think that’s more about the boots, really. I’m here with my friend, Mike. He, you know, likes boys – but shhh!” She pressed her finger to her lips, suddenly alarmed in case Rose got straight on the phone to the Brigadier. She wouldn’t, would she? Rose was lovely, even if she was a bit blurry around the edges. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Promise.” Rose linked their little fingers together, like little children promising in the playground. “And if you don’t tell anybody I’m here because me and my friend are looking for aliens I won’t tell anyone you’re secretly a spy,” she whispered behind her hand.

It was the loveliest thing anyone had ever said to Jo in her whole life. Overwhelmed, she flung her arms around Rose, and next morning she’d just about be able to persuade herself that it was a freak accident that she happened to turn her head so their mouths collided, and if, after that, hands went to unintended places, that was the fault of the pink sparkly drinks.

The fact that she’d brought the girl home was a bit harder to explain away – she didn’t look a bit like Diana Rigg - but she was sure it’d come to her in time.

More prompts: Rose/Jake, Eight/Compassion, Nine/Jackie

Leela/Romana II

A bit rubbish, I fear, but fun. :)

Leela’s lithe form shimmered as she came ashore, water sluicing off her body as she approached. Flinging her head back sent a cascade of droplets arching out from her hair as it fell slick against her scalp. “It is safe,” she announced.

“You didn’t honestly expect there would be any danger in the Pools of Osriyan, did you?” Romana amusedly asked, watching her bodyguard’s casual approach from where she comfortably sat on the soft sandy shore.

“It is my job to check,” Leela noted. She stopped before Romana, almost striking a pose before extending a hand down to help her up.

Romana let her guardian pull her to her feet, grinning impishly as she pulled back, bringing the warrior close against her once she was standing. “It’s your job to make sure I don’t drown, not so much to strip naked and dive in before I get the chance to.” Romana’s eyes casually drifted down over Leela’s frame. “You’re such a show off.”

“My leathers are not waterproof,” Leela explained, fighting to keep the corners of her mouth from tugging up in a smile.

“But your boots are?” she skeptically asked. Romana traced over Leela’s body until she reached her legs, which were bare save for her calf-high leather boots. The warrior’s knife mostly concealed there did not escape her notice.

Leela’s eyes twinkled, sparkling crystal blue with reflection from the water. “I must still have a means to protect you.” Her hands moved to rest lightly, comfortably, on the President’s hips. “Though I would not hesitate to kill with my bare hands anyone who tried to hurt you with.”

Romana laughed, shaking her head. “We really do need to teach you some lessons in romance. Not that I don’t appreciate the sentiment.”

“So you say, but I believe you like me for being different,” Leela replied. She tugged Romana forward until both of them were ankle deep in the pool. “Am I not right?”

“Wise as ever, at least.” Romana conceded. Glancing at their submerged feet, she smirked. “Am I not allowed to disrobe now?”

“I thought that you would never ask,” Leela said, finally breaking into her beautiful smile, letting her fingers rise, beginning to tug off Romana’s robes. When at last they dropped away, revealing Romana to her completely, she nodded, pleased. “That is much better.”

“Less talking, more touching?” Romana suggested, pushing them both forward, deeper into the water.

“You always do have a way with words,” Leela said with a laugh.

Romana matched the laughter for a few seconds but as the cold of the water crept up her thighs, she pushed forward and kissed Leela, letting the chill of the pool dim against the splendid warmth of Leela’s secure arms around her, and her soft mouth working against hers.

Re: Leela/Romana II

Oh, I love it! Any preference for next pairing(s)?
For van ;)

A missing scene from The Invasion

The Doctor pulled the wires from the panel in the lift, and the box shuddered. Jamie grabbed him, afraid he would lose his balance. When the lift finally came to a stop, Jamie's arms were still wrapped around the Doctor. They were so close Jamie could actually taste the Doctor’s breath.

Without thinking he pulled the Doctor closer and pressed his mouth to his. The Doctor didn’t respond immediately. When Jamie pushed him against the wall of the lift and began snaking his hand down the Doctor’s trousers, he stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“This isn’t the time or the place, Jamie.”

“But Doctor, we’re stuck in the lift-.”

“Jamie, please,” the Doctor gasped as Jamie wrapped his fingers around him, stroking him vigorously.

Jamie smiled at the Doctor and kissed him again.

The Doctor traced his fingertips up Jamie’s arms and grasped his shoulders. He moaned, and pushed Jamie away.

Jamie frowned and looked at the Doctor. “What-?”

“Jamie, please. Now is not the time.” The Doctor crossed the lift and placed his hands on either side of Jamie’s head. He leaned in and kissed him, hard. Pulling away, he smiled softly. “Later. I promise.”

Jamie licked his lips and smiled at him. “Aye.”

The Doctor stepped back, taking his handkerchief from his pocket. He wiped the sweat from his face, and proceeded to wipe off Jamie’s face too.

Requests: One/Barbara, Ian/Barbara, Six/Evelyn
*dies* I love you, thank you! I wish I knew One better, or the audios, so I could write something for you in response, ahahahaha.

Jamie is such an eager boy. :)


(Not part of the epic that I keep threatening to write. Also I kidnapped Rachel from "Gallifrey Chronicles," sorry for that.)

Rachel was already back in the TARDIS, having decided to give them a moment alone before the end. The air was perfumed with tropical flowers and the faint scent of the ocean, warm enough for sweat to trail down one's spine, humid enough for hair to stick up in unfortunate ways.

"I never imagined you staying in a place like this," the Doctor mused.

Fitz laughed and shrugged. "Scatinly clad women, potent drinks, no monsters now that we've sent the Akseliks running, what's not to love?"

"I meant somewhere this hot."

"Oh, well. You know."

They did not bother with faking a handshake and went straight for a hug, leather and velvet, romantic and rock 'n roll. The Doctor pulled back and framed Fitz's face in his hands, smiling a moment before snogging him. Again.

For once Fitz did not retreat, he accepted the kiss for what it was and returned it in kind, snaked his ams around the Doctor's waist and savored the moment. All else had been said but this. They stepped back again after a respectable amount of time, neither sure how to follow that up.

The Doctor shook his head. "You are going to broil in that coat, you realize."

"No point in keeping it, then," Fitz replied smoothly and shrugged out of it. He held out the battered brown leather garment as an offering, a talisman. "Go on and add it to the wardrobe. Someone'll have use for it."

There was another beatific smile as the Doctor accepted the coat. "I'm sure someone will," he said, then held his hand. "Goodbye, Fitz. I won't forget you."

He got a grin and handshake in return. "Despite all past experience, I believe you. Goodbye Doctor." And he turned and headed back to the settlement, to help rebuild his new home.

The Doctor folded the coat over his arm, nodded to himself, and returned to the TARDIS.

Next requests: Ace/Benny, Sarah/Harry, Ten/Mrs. Moore.

Re: Eight/Fitz

Aw, this is lovely.

Adric/Anyone (if by Anyone you mean Four). ((yay, it is 1am))

Of course Adric would go about it mathematically. In measured increments. Of course.

First there is the space between them as they walk, narrowed by half a step. Running is altered similarly. Then eye contact is increased by roughly one half - and is it obvious to anyone else but him, how the boy's dilate so quickly? - and after that the physical contact increases too, broadens over time, hands taking his and holding, squeezing, waiting to be pushed away.

Which of course the Doctor never really gets around to doing, but that is because he is a terribly busy man and has no time to ward off young suitors. He has planets to harass. Save. Planets to save.

So the Doctor is really not surprised when the attempt takes place, because it's all in the math, and Adric is observant enough to have noticed that nobody minds That Kind of Thing here on Herald 4X890, where they've passed eight homosexual couples at least on the way to the security and warmth of the inn.

"This is a very nice lodge," Adric murmurs. He's barely loud enough to heard over the fire they're settled in front of; the Doctor just nods distantly and tilts his novel a little further back to catch the light of the flames.

"A bit quiet now, though." Adric is not giving up. "It's gotten so late all the other tenants have gone to bed."

"That they have." The book is rather interesting. Venusian author. You can tell by the heavy contradictions in its post-structuralist themes. And that it's in Venusian.

"We're just." Adric is audibly losing steam. The Doctor feels him shift uncomfortably on his left, shoulder brushing past his as the boy begins to fidget with his badge. "Alone now."

"You are a terribly observant young lad."

Adric says nothing now. He looks up at the Doctor a moment, obviously hoping that his point can be conveyed better through the proper stare, but his nerve fades and he goes back to looking into his lap.

"Adric, it's late. Either finally kiss me or go to bed."

And at first this ultimatum is received as both shocking and slightly condescending, and cheeks do go hot and tempers do look just about to flare... but eventually a decision is reached, and both parties are quite contented indeed.

Re: Adric/Anyone (if by Anyone you mean Four). ((yay, it is 1am))

... I think I am in love with you. Your stories are always so sweet and well done, truly little photographic moments. And this is terribly, wonderfully in character and you've made me fall in love with the pairing all over again, hahahahaha. How I adore them, thank you so much!!

(Now make some requests of your own!)

Ten/Tegan (with Ten/Sarah as a one-week-only free offer)

100 words, baby: I'm a purist.


No second chances.

Except, as it turns out, he’s not that kind of a man at all. He’s the kind of man who knows Sarah Jane Smith got Aberdeen when she wanted Croydon: wanted something else entirely. She even gets ‘goodbye’ afterwards.

He likes the way it feels.

So, Brisbane, 1987. Long enough for her to have calmed down, he thinks, until she slaps him with all the bitterness of a cold London warehouse still at her fingertips.

Too long, he thinks, to have denied her what she always wanted from that gentle, guarded body.

‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’


Requests: Four/Five, Five/Harry, Harry/Turlough. :D

Harry/Turlough, don't hurt me, hahahaha.

The Doctor was back and so were the Ice Warriors. Harry felt he should have been in there with the Brigadier and the Doctor, but instead he found himself locked in the Brigadier’s office, babysitting the Doctor’s newest traveling partner; there are apparently some top secret briefings that are too top secret even for Harry’s access.

“Bit young, aren’t you, old bean?” he said in a hopefully distracting voice.

The boy had red hair and wore a scowl that could peel paint; he was currently reclining in the chair at the Brigadier’s desk, feet propped up on a filing cabinet, leafing through every last scrap of paper he could get his hands on. He clearly hated being left out of the briefing as much as Harry did. Perhaps more.

“I say,” Harry tried again, after being pointedly ignored, “have you been traveling with the Doctor for very long?”

At last the boy’s eyes dragged off the papers to focus on Harry. “I’m sorry, am I supposed to know you?” he snapped.

Harry straightened brightly and extended his hand. “Harry Sullivan. I’m a friend of the Doctor’s. Former traveling companion, if you will.”

The boy eyed him with obvious disinterest, not rising to shake his hand. “I always figured he had a thing for boys. But then, I suppose you were a lot younger when you traveled with him, huh?”

Harry was not sure how to reply. “It’s been a few years, but I certainly wasn’t a boy.” He suddenly tensed. “Please don’t play with that.”

Turlough tossed the Brigadier’s expensive paperweight into the air and caught it without taking his eyes off Harry. “Fancy another spin in the TARDIS?”

“Oh, no. I’ve had my fair share of galaxy exploration by Police Box, thank you.”

Turlough’s scowl deepened. He dropped the paperweight unceremoniously. “Isn’t there anything interesting about you at all?”

Unflappable, Harry just smiled, folding his hands behind him. “I prefer to lead a life of normalcy, that’s all. It’s very interesting if you’re me.”

“Here, catch!” Turlough said and launched the expensive paperweight at him. While Harry frantically scrambled to catch it, Turlough rolled the chair around the desk. Harry caught the weight and after, he turned quickly to chide Turlough for his recklessness.

Turlough popped up from the chair as he did, planting a rough, hard kiss against Harry’s mouth. He tried for several seconds to further seduce the man before giving up and sulking back down into the chair. Harry remained transfixed in place, staring ahead without blinking, in utter shock.

Snorting, Turlough got to his feet. “I see you learned nothing from your time with the Doctor.” Fed up with being babysat by boring men and kept out of interesting debates, Turlough sauntered to the door that said “Top Secret: Keep Out” and kicked it open. Being punished by the Doctor was certain to be more fun than this.

Six/Jamie, set during The Two Doctors

"Jamie, what in Rassilon's name are you doing?"

The Doctor doesn't get a proper response for this, although he dearly wanted one - all he receives is a brief snort as if to say, 'You know very well.'

"Jamie." The Doctor stares forward as he feels Jamie's hands holding his hips tighter, feels the warmwet of a tongue tasting the spot behind his right earlobe. His cheeks begin to burn. "Jamie."

The tongue pulls away. "You said you were the Doctor." The Scottish accent is thick as ever, just as he remembers it. "I suppose you sort of feel like him. You shiver the same way." As if to illustrate this, he bends his head again so he can scrape his teeth playfully along the side of the Doctor's throat. The desired effect is gained.

"James Robert McCrimmon, I c- I came here to show you where the bathroom is." Because Jamie does need a good wash and change of clothes now that they've found him, two projects to which the Doctor is not actually going to be a part of in any way shape or form.

"It moved again?" Jamie almost sounds conversational. "Even the bloody kitchen never moves as much as the bathroom. I see the TARDIS hasn't changed." The Doctor registers something pressing flush against the small of his back just as Jamie begins to reach up with that lovely soot-stained hand, tug at the buttons of his shirt, and-

"Jamie, stop that this instant!"

And he actually does. "Why?" A beat. "Is that foreign lass gonna be upset?" The Scot's other hand keeps its grip on his hip, keeping him in place. Was he always this strong? "We never told Victoria or Zoe. But then, you weren't courting them. Are you courting Penny?"


"Aye, Peri."


"Well, then I don't see what the trouble is." And Jamie promptly goes back to the Doctor's neck, suddenly set on giving the poor man a hickey.

"Jamie!" It is already becoming obvious that he's losing his resolve. "J-Jamie. Jamie.

...oh, god, Jamie."

Re: Six/Jamie, set during The Two Doctors

Aahahahaa. What is this, "Write each other ficlets until we pass out" contest? AHahaha, I love this. It's exactly how it would happen, too, aahahahaha. Oh, Jamie, you sly dog. Whatever will Two think! Ahahha.


(Sigh. Sorry if this is lousy.)

Her boy's father had been Northern as well, a traveling salesman making his rounds through London. She was working at a hotel clearing tables, earning a little money to bring home. He had called her pretty, promised to take her away but they only made it as far as his room, his bed. She asked if he would leave without her, and he smiled and shook his head. He was long gone before she knew of the child she carried, before she was cast off from her family.

Then came the Blitz, and she lost everything. Then came another man with a Northern accent, and she was torn between mistrust and remembered longing. Drawn in and repelled, she helped when she could but prefered to leave him to his own devices. In the end he gave back all that had been taken away and more: he restored her hope.

He never offered to take her away, she never asked him not to go. Neither wanted to hear the answer.

::wacks random pairing generator:: Jack/Compassion, Nyssa/Romana I, Brig/Liz

Re: Nine/Nancy

Nine/Nancy! Oh, I quite love it. Extremely nice. Very well done.

(I hope someone picks up Jack/Compassion, ahaha.)

Ten/Zach, because seriously.

Well, of course he'd met him before. The Doctor didn't hug just anyone. Well, not most people, anyway. Unless they looked nice enough, or he'd just done something brilliant, or unless he thought they needed a hug, really, because sometimes you could just tell.

In any case, it was obvious that Zach didn't remember him.

He tested it a bit later, in the mess hall, with a few carefully placed questions such as, "Ever meet a chap with stringy blonde hair, like, and an outfit the color of wallpaper?" and "You know where I like to go for a good time, is Satellite Three point Three. Love it there, I really do. And yourself? Yes? Satellite Three point Three? 'Three point Three's the place to be?' Eh?"

Satellite Three point Three was a converted chemical rig, which Zach pointed out with a level stare, but the important information had been gleaned: he remembered it. Godawful place, really. The Doctor wasn't sorry to have blown up that scrap heap. Which, incidentally, is why Zach also remembered the stringy-haired chap, who had asked him several polite and impossibly detailed questions about the computer mainframe and the cooling systems half an hour or so before the self-destruct alarm came pinging over the intercom.

Possibly Zach also remembered him because of the kissing. But the explosion had been a better bet to start off with.

It had probably been one of those last-hurrah, moments-before-death-and-no-one-to-snog things, or one of those grateful-for-having-been-found-a-shuttle-to-get-away-from-the-exploding-satellite things. The Doctor knew how it was. Multilingual destruction warning droning, people running around like chickens, impossibly handsome wallpaper-clad fellow in front of him... The Doctor would have done the same thing, given the circumstances. In fact, the Doctor had done the same thing in very similar circumstances, but that was neither here nor there; Zach clearly had no idea that the object of his momentary affections was currently sitting across from him expressing sympathetic sorrow for all those converted chemicals lost to the universe.

"He never introduced himself," Zach said, when at last they'd established that, really, the Doctor had no idea who that handsome blonde man was - only heard the legends. "Probably a terrorist or something." The Doctor raised his eyebrows and squinted, considering the validity of that, because, actually - "Anyway, I thought he was all right. Besides blowing up my job."

"Yeah, he's probably sorry about that," the Doctor said. "Probably does it all the time, regular job-blower-upper, he is. You know, probably. Anyway, all right, you say? You thought he was all right?"

"Yeah," Zach said, nodding, and the Doctor could not have been more pleased with the look that came over his face. "He was."

The Doctor grinned back, and maybe it was a little fondly, but the man had kissed him, back when he'd been very weird about kisses, and he deserved things like hugs and smiles. And handholding, apparently, because the Doctor reached out and squeezed one of Zach's hands, and Zach looked a little confused, but he squeezed back, and as far as the Doctor was concerned, that was as good a reunion as could be hoped for.

Re: Ten/Zach, because seriously.

*hands you a freaking internet* That was superb. :D

Romana/Reinette, 250 words, G, reposted without typos

livii linked to this post, and I liked the idea. Even though I'm three days late for the party.

Romana likes the gardens of Versailles: their symmetry, born out of a strange human affection for their primitive Euclidian geometry where a straight line is still the shortest connection between two points, and their vulgar splendour, born out of the childish human desire to order, to master, to squander and to represent. The latter reminds her of Gallifrey, and this makes her smile, wistfully, contemptuously.

The woman in front of her is every much a piece of art like the fountains or the sculptures, but the artifice looks old: marble, metal, paint ravaged by time. Romana’s seen her portraits (there are many), and looking at them is a little like watching Death at work. The Marquise will never see the finished version of the portrait she is sitting for these days, will never gaze at the carefully created image of the virtuous matron, pious and homely.

No more rosy cheeks or golden locks to be admired now, but her eyes are still those of a Little Queen, proud and always ready to command, those of a little girl, full of longing and hope. She’s staring at Romana as though she were a messenger from Heaven, not a traveller through space (she cannot help wondering what sort of angel she is, which message she is supposed to deliver), but the Marquise is imploring her, ordering her, at the very same time. So she obeys, taking Reinette’s feverish hand, squeezing it, covering it with kisses to wipe away the smell of mortality.

If there are further prompts needed: Ten/Charley, Ten/Ida, Ida/Scooti


Ida hates space travel. She loves the feel of wind on her face, the smell of rain on leaves: typical biodome-brat, Scooti teases her. Scooti’s nth generation spacer, made her first steps across a cargo bay, cried in fear the first time her mum took her on planetfall. She still tosses in her sleep, uneasy without the feel of engines.

The night before they leave Earth, Ida holds her and wishes she could pin her down, this butterfly of hers, keep her here in the light and the soil and the air.

“It’s a year,” Scooti whispers, brushing a kiss across her collarbone, her neck: “it’s just a year, and then we’ll talk about finding a planet, all right? We’ve got all our lives.”

And Ida breaks the habit of a lifetime and believes her.

Next: Eight/Nine, Ten/Fitz, Charley/Romana