Fic: Challenging Societal Norms Through Baked Goods (Who's Right #15)
Title: Challenging Societal Norms Through Baked Goods
Series (Story number): Who's Right? (15)
Summary: The Doctor enters a baking contest. 50's AU.
Rating: I don't actually know...maybe 14A? But more likely just PG-13
Characters/pairings: Master/Doctor, Barbara Jones, Fran Appleton, Lianne Moore
Author's notes: I've become far too lazy to text Leah the stories any more and have turned to writing them to her on MSN. This story came partially out of an actual event that I found in a book of amusing British happenings culled from newspapers and partially from the discovery of snowgrouse's mutual interest in wheatsex and my willingness to include the aforementioned interest in the series. EDIT: Whoops, forgot to edit the summary the first time. Explanation of series here.
"You did WHAT?" the Master said incredulously.
"I entered my name into a baking contest," said the Doctor. "What?"
"It's a baking contest for a women's club," the Master pointed out.
"Yes but they never said that the entrants had to be female," said the Doctor.
"I'm....just slightly surprised that you're doing something like this," the Master said. "Considering how much you seem to hate getting classified as the woman."
"Because I'm NOT," said the Doctor. "And I've entered as a man, all right?"
"It doesn't change the circumstances of the contest," the Master pointed out. Then he grinned. "So, I imagine you'll be doing a lot of practising?"
The Doctor gave him a look. "Don't," he said. "Just....don't."
"I make no promises," said the Master. "Do you think they'll let me be the judge if I ask VERY nicely?"
"No," said the Doctor. "I've entered. You have conflicting interests. They'll probably get some sort of priest or upstanding member of society to do it."
The Master snickered and the Doctor rolled his eyes.
In actual fact, the Doctor did have to do rather a lot of practise baking because he had a very hard time deciding what to enter into the contest due to general indecisiveness. For about the first two days, he managed to keep the Master out of the kitchen but on the third day, the Master proved impossible to prevent.
"I missed éclairs, didn't I," said the Master disappointedly.
"Yes," said the Doctor, gritting his teeth as he angrily creamed together the butter and sugar for his lemon poppy seed cake.
"What was the other thing you made?" the Master asked, coming to lounge at the kitchen table with his feet up on top of it.
The Doctor glared at where the Master's feet rested on his recipe books and said, "Carrot muffins," as he started to furiously mix in the other dry ingredients.
The Master watched him briefly with a blank expression on. "You're going to overmix that, you know," he mentioned casually after about two minutes.
"I know what I'm doing, thank you," growled the Doctor.
"I only say this as I wouldn't want it turning out too heavy," said the Master. The Doctor stopped mixing and frowned at the Master. "I have only your best interests in mind?" suggested the Master, biting back a smirk.
"PLEASE," said the Doctor. "Can you not just leave me in peace? Don't you have work?"
"Ah, but you baking is definitely what I'd consider a special enough occasion to stay home," said the Master. The Doctor opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again.
Five minutes later, the Master ended up shagging the Doctor over the counter and the Doctor had to start his cake from scratch. Even though the Master suggested that the way it was NOW was better.
The Doctor tried to keep the Master out of the kitchen again from that point onward (because he'd had to reboil all the poppy seeds and soak them in milk for a half hour and that was just TEDIOUS) but he didn't have much luck.
In all, it was fairly surprising that the Doctor actually managed to enter a pavlova into the baking competition.
Even MORE surprising was the fact that he WON, especially taking into account the dessert's Russian name. It turned out that Mayor Frank Weatherby was actually a really big fan of strawberries.
This, naturally, made all of the losers of the competition (most of whom had entered apple cobblers and angel food cake) very cross indeed.
Their righteous fury only increased when they realised that it had been a MAN who'd won.
"Excuse me," said Barbara Jones shrilly. "Excuse me, ladies, how is this fair? Is this even right? I don't think so! It's a commonly known fact that men can NOT cook and I don't fancy this competition trying to tell me something different."
"Well, I suppose he IS married to that nice Master Saxon, though," said Fran Appleton, who was sleeping with him. "Doesn't that kind of make him a woman?"
"Not a REAL one," said Barbara. "And don't you know, Fran, they aren't even REALLY married." Everyone gasped in gossipy shock.
"Well, I, for one, won't stand for this!" said Lianne Moore. "I think it's time we fixed that loophole!"
"Right!" said the women of the Denfield Women's Society.
"So....did you win, or didn't you?" the Master asked that evening.
"Weeeeeell, technically I won but I'm never allowed to go there again," said the Doctor. "Also, I think we're going to be social pariahs in the neighbourhood for about a month."
"So what have we learned from this?" the Master asked condescendingly.
"I'm not letting you have the pavlova," said the Doctor.
The Master sulked.
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Series (Story number): Who's Right? (15)
Summary: The Doctor enters a baking contest. 50's AU.
Rating: I don't actually know...maybe 14A? But more likely just PG-13
Characters/pairings: Master/Doctor, Barbara Jones, Fran Appleton, Lianne Moore
Author's notes: I've become far too lazy to text Leah the stories any more and have turned to writing them to her on MSN. This story came partially out of an actual event that I found in a book of amusing British happenings culled from newspapers and partially from the discovery of snowgrouse's mutual interest in wheatsex and my willingness to include the aforementioned interest in the series. EDIT: Whoops, forgot to edit the summary the first time. Explanation of series here.
"You did WHAT?" the Master said incredulously.
"I entered my name into a baking contest," said the Doctor. "What?"
"It's a baking contest for a women's club," the Master pointed out.
"Yes but they never said that the entrants had to be female," said the Doctor.
"I'm....just slightly surprised that you're doing something like this," the Master said. "Considering how much you seem to hate getting classified as the woman."
"Because I'm NOT," said the Doctor. "And I've entered as a man, all right?"
"It doesn't change the circumstances of the contest," the Master pointed out. Then he grinned. "So, I imagine you'll be doing a lot of practising?"
The Doctor gave him a look. "Don't," he said. "Just....don't."
"I make no promises," said the Master. "Do you think they'll let me be the judge if I ask VERY nicely?"
"No," said the Doctor. "I've entered. You have conflicting interests. They'll probably get some sort of priest or upstanding member of society to do it."
The Master snickered and the Doctor rolled his eyes.
In actual fact, the Doctor did have to do rather a lot of practise baking because he had a very hard time deciding what to enter into the contest due to general indecisiveness. For about the first two days, he managed to keep the Master out of the kitchen but on the third day, the Master proved impossible to prevent.
"I missed éclairs, didn't I," said the Master disappointedly.
"Yes," said the Doctor, gritting his teeth as he angrily creamed together the butter and sugar for his lemon poppy seed cake.
"What was the other thing you made?" the Master asked, coming to lounge at the kitchen table with his feet up on top of it.
The Doctor glared at where the Master's feet rested on his recipe books and said, "Carrot muffins," as he started to furiously mix in the other dry ingredients.
The Master watched him briefly with a blank expression on. "You're going to overmix that, you know," he mentioned casually after about two minutes.
"I know what I'm doing, thank you," growled the Doctor.
"I only say this as I wouldn't want it turning out too heavy," said the Master. The Doctor stopped mixing and frowned at the Master. "I have only your best interests in mind?" suggested the Master, biting back a smirk.
"PLEASE," said the Doctor. "Can you not just leave me in peace? Don't you have work?"
"Ah, but you baking is definitely what I'd consider a special enough occasion to stay home," said the Master. The Doctor opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again.
Five minutes later, the Master ended up shagging the Doctor over the counter and the Doctor had to start his cake from scratch. Even though the Master suggested that the way it was NOW was better.
The Doctor tried to keep the Master out of the kitchen again from that point onward (because he'd had to reboil all the poppy seeds and soak them in milk for a half hour and that was just TEDIOUS) but he didn't have much luck.
In all, it was fairly surprising that the Doctor actually managed to enter a pavlova into the baking competition.
Even MORE surprising was the fact that he WON, especially taking into account the dessert's Russian name. It turned out that Mayor Frank Weatherby was actually a really big fan of strawberries.
This, naturally, made all of the losers of the competition (most of whom had entered apple cobblers and angel food cake) very cross indeed.
Their righteous fury only increased when they realised that it had been a MAN who'd won.
"Excuse me," said Barbara Jones shrilly. "Excuse me, ladies, how is this fair? Is this even right? I don't think so! It's a commonly known fact that men can NOT cook and I don't fancy this competition trying to tell me something different."
"Well, I suppose he IS married to that nice Master Saxon, though," said Fran Appleton, who was sleeping with him. "Doesn't that kind of make him a woman?"
"Not a REAL one," said Barbara. "And don't you know, Fran, they aren't even REALLY married." Everyone gasped in gossipy shock.
"Well, I, for one, won't stand for this!" said Lianne Moore. "I think it's time we fixed that loophole!"
"Right!" said the women of the Denfield Women's Society.
"So....did you win, or didn't you?" the Master asked that evening.
"Weeeeeell, technically I won but I'm never allowed to go there again," said the Doctor. "Also, I think we're going to be social pariahs in the neighbourhood for about a month."
"So what have we learned from this?" the Master asked condescendingly.
"I'm not letting you have the pavlova," said the Doctor.
The Master sulked.
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