Prompt 120.1
It was too early, that sort of early that made one's head ache at just thought of getting up, and only a steaming hot shower could truly relieve the pressure in your sinuses. That sort of early where you fought for sleep as fiercely as the last soldier on a battlefield defending his nation.
It was never too early for the Doctor to come in and shake one out of a relaxing sleep.
Mel yawned and stretched, jostled out of her comfortable slumber on a not-too-pleasant-but-she'd-slept-on-worse hotel bed. "Oh, Doctor. Give me another few minutes..." she whined, voice cracking with the dawning hour and rare lack of energy, tugging her pillow over her head so that only the tufted ends of curly red locks were visible.
"No, no, no!" he whispered, lowly, as if he were worried someone might hear him. "We have to leave now! Right now! And not a moment sooner."
"You mean 'later'," she mumbled, her words muffled by cottony fabric.
Then, after a beat. "...Why?"
"My fiancee will be here in a moment!"
Mel sat up with such force the pillow catapulted off of her, to the far end of the bed. And now she was awake, one word serving better than any alarm clock to throw her into operation. "Doctor!? What do you mean fiancée!" And then further realization dawned. She squinted, her mop of red hair tousled and half in her face and she fought to get it out of her eyes. Oh good heavens, what was he wearing!?
The Doctor was in his little panama homburg still, hat cocked too far back on his head and making him look a bit more oafish than regal as per usual. But below that he was in a tuxedo. And not just a tuxedo, a bright blue one, which nearly complimented the pink attire Mel usually wore. Not a bad colour, but certainly not the Doctor (in this form, anyway), and certainly something she wasn't ready to absorb yet.
"How did you get into that!?"
"I put it on!"
"With some sort of weapon aimed at your head?"
"No, standing on a trapdoor. Can we leave now! Make yourself decent and let's be out of here!" his tone pleading, as well as his expression.
"I- ...You... we were supposed to-!"
She crawled out of bed, all pink pyjamas and fuzzy-eyed look, stumbling her way over to grab her clothes and head for the bathroom. He didn't know what sort of rush he thought she could manage. She would have to restrain her hair somehow. He should know how curly hair refuses to behave in the morning. He'd had it more than once.
"I feel as though you went off and had an adventure without me!"
"It wasn't an adventure, it was an engagement! And I didn't mean to. I would much rather it would have been you than me..." He called back through the bathroom door as she changed, working to detach a lamp and cord from the wall. He sat down in the floor with it, folding his legs so that he could start disassembling it in his lap.
"How can one have an engagement without an adventure!"
"When one pretends that they're a visiting physician from Scotland. The same one that, as it turned out, was betrothed in a familial arrangement to the ambassador's daughter."
"Oh, the pleasantly plump girl?"
"Be nice, Mel."
"I am being nice! I said 'pleasantly'."
"I suppose it doesn't matter anyway. Pleasantly isn't a word well associated with whatever these things are. It's a human disguise for an alien species." He rolled his eyes as he heard the shower, knowing this would take far longer than he intended. Fine. If she wouldn't listen she wouldn't listen. He would have to be more proactive about it.
He popped the bulb apart, and strained to detach the light fixture with his bare hands. Oh, what would he do for his proper coat, with his impossibly deep pockets filled with mostly useful things. He would have to re-acquire it...
The water stalled. Perhaps she'd just washed off quickly. "What type of alien is it?" Mel chirped through the door. Ah, she had been listening before she'd gotten into the shower.
"Something in sore need of a breath mint, or gastrointestinal medication. I have no idea why it's here or why the British ambassador happens to have an inhuman family, but I'll have to worry about those later." If he didn't get distracted and forget. He could quite possibly get distracted and forget. "We best leave and do so promptly."
"Did they really make you change on a trapdoor?"
"Mel!!!"
"What? It's a genuine question of character. I want to know who to blame."
"Of course I'm not to blame!" he argued petulantly. Then, quietly to himself, he added a faint "probably" that he knew wouldn't carry through to Mel's ears. There, he'd almost toggled a small flash device that would at the very least confuse someone pursuing them. And conveniently there was a heavy knock on the front door of the hotel room.
The Doctor winced, springing to his feet, scattering unnecessary bits of this and that he hadn't needed to use and abandoning the lamp's skeletal remains to barge into the bathroom. Mel's eyes widened in shock, clutching her shirt shut though she was already dressed and buttoned up.
"Doctor! You could have at least asked if I was decent!"
"Are you decent?" he placated, stooping to set the flash trap on the bathroom door.
"DOCTOR!!!"
"Shush, they're going to hear you! Open the window!" he ordered. Then hopped up to skitter by faster than she could get to the latch. "Nevermind, I'll do it!"
Mel grew dimly aware of the pounding on the front door outside. "Doctor, you must have broken the poor woman's heart."
"Better than her breaking my nose with her wretched impolite scent. You know what they say, a nose by any other name-"
"Now is not the time!"
"Oh now you wish to take time seriously!" he contested, popping the lock open. Not a huge space available, but this form of his was particularly spry and particularly squirrely, and he was certain it could skootch through that small area. He'd find a way to make it happen, because certain matrimonial doom followed at his heels.
He squeezed through, giving Mel a comical sight of pastel blue legs and brown loafers with terribly clashing argyle socks flailing about. And then he was gone... and popped back up like a cosmic Kilroy over the edge of the window.
"Come along!" he insisted.
Another loud pound was all the convincing she needed, stretching to have him take her hands. She had better get a good explanation for all of this when they got to the TARDIS. Or one that made passable sense at the very least.
Character: The Seventh Doctor
Word Count: 1,121
Prompt: 120.1. Setting/scenario: Accidentally getting engaged
Notes: The aliens mentioned are the start of the Slitheen family (Raxacoricofallapatorian) government infiltration.
It was never too early for the Doctor to come in and shake one out of a relaxing sleep.
Mel yawned and stretched, jostled out of her comfortable slumber on a not-too-pleasant-but-she'd-slept-on-worse hotel bed. "Oh, Doctor. Give me another few minutes..." she whined, voice cracking with the dawning hour and rare lack of energy, tugging her pillow over her head so that only the tufted ends of curly red locks were visible.
"No, no, no!" he whispered, lowly, as if he were worried someone might hear him. "We have to leave now! Right now! And not a moment sooner."
"You mean 'later'," she mumbled, her words muffled by cottony fabric.
Then, after a beat. "...Why?"
"My fiancee will be here in a moment!"
Mel sat up with such force the pillow catapulted off of her, to the far end of the bed. And now she was awake, one word serving better than any alarm clock to throw her into operation. "Doctor!? What do you mean fiancée!" And then further realization dawned. She squinted, her mop of red hair tousled and half in her face and she fought to get it out of her eyes. Oh good heavens, what was he wearing!?
The Doctor was in his little panama homburg still, hat cocked too far back on his head and making him look a bit more oafish than regal as per usual. But below that he was in a tuxedo. And not just a tuxedo, a bright blue one, which nearly complimented the pink attire Mel usually wore. Not a bad colour, but certainly not the Doctor (in this form, anyway), and certainly something she wasn't ready to absorb yet.
"How did you get into that!?"
"I put it on!"
"With some sort of weapon aimed at your head?"
"No, standing on a trapdoor. Can we leave now! Make yourself decent and let's be out of here!" his tone pleading, as well as his expression.
"I- ...You... we were supposed to-!"
She crawled out of bed, all pink pyjamas and fuzzy-eyed look, stumbling her way over to grab her clothes and head for the bathroom. He didn't know what sort of rush he thought she could manage. She would have to restrain her hair somehow. He should know how curly hair refuses to behave in the morning. He'd had it more than once.
"I feel as though you went off and had an adventure without me!"
"It wasn't an adventure, it was an engagement! And I didn't mean to. I would much rather it would have been you than me..." He called back through the bathroom door as she changed, working to detach a lamp and cord from the wall. He sat down in the floor with it, folding his legs so that he could start disassembling it in his lap.
"How can one have an engagement without an adventure!"
"When one pretends that they're a visiting physician from Scotland. The same one that, as it turned out, was betrothed in a familial arrangement to the ambassador's daughter."
"Oh, the pleasantly plump girl?"
"Be nice, Mel."
"I am being nice! I said 'pleasantly'."
"I suppose it doesn't matter anyway. Pleasantly isn't a word well associated with whatever these things are. It's a human disguise for an alien species." He rolled his eyes as he heard the shower, knowing this would take far longer than he intended. Fine. If she wouldn't listen she wouldn't listen. He would have to be more proactive about it.
He popped the bulb apart, and strained to detach the light fixture with his bare hands. Oh, what would he do for his proper coat, with his impossibly deep pockets filled with mostly useful things. He would have to re-acquire it...
The water stalled. Perhaps she'd just washed off quickly. "What type of alien is it?" Mel chirped through the door. Ah, she had been listening before she'd gotten into the shower.
"Something in sore need of a breath mint, or gastrointestinal medication. I have no idea why it's here or why the British ambassador happens to have an inhuman family, but I'll have to worry about those later." If he didn't get distracted and forget. He could quite possibly get distracted and forget. "We best leave and do so promptly."
"Did they really make you change on a trapdoor?"
"Mel!!!"
"What? It's a genuine question of character. I want to know who to blame."
"Of course I'm not to blame!" he argued petulantly. Then, quietly to himself, he added a faint "probably" that he knew wouldn't carry through to Mel's ears. There, he'd almost toggled a small flash device that would at the very least confuse someone pursuing them. And conveniently there was a heavy knock on the front door of the hotel room.
The Doctor winced, springing to his feet, scattering unnecessary bits of this and that he hadn't needed to use and abandoning the lamp's skeletal remains to barge into the bathroom. Mel's eyes widened in shock, clutching her shirt shut though she was already dressed and buttoned up.
"Doctor! You could have at least asked if I was decent!"
"Are you decent?" he placated, stooping to set the flash trap on the bathroom door.
"DOCTOR!!!"
"Shush, they're going to hear you! Open the window!" he ordered. Then hopped up to skitter by faster than she could get to the latch. "Nevermind, I'll do it!"
Mel grew dimly aware of the pounding on the front door outside. "Doctor, you must have broken the poor woman's heart."
"Better than her breaking my nose with her wretched impolite scent. You know what they say, a nose by any other name-"
"Now is not the time!"
"Oh now you wish to take time seriously!" he contested, popping the lock open. Not a huge space available, but this form of his was particularly spry and particularly squirrely, and he was certain it could skootch through that small area. He'd find a way to make it happen, because certain matrimonial doom followed at his heels.
He squeezed through, giving Mel a comical sight of pastel blue legs and brown loafers with terribly clashing argyle socks flailing about. And then he was gone... and popped back up like a cosmic Kilroy over the edge of the window.
"Come along!" he insisted.
Another loud pound was all the convincing she needed, stretching to have him take her hands. She had better get a good explanation for all of this when they got to the TARDIS. Or one that made passable sense at the very least.
Character: The Seventh Doctor
Word Count: 1,121
Prompt: 120.1. Setting/scenario: Accidentally getting engaged
Notes: The aliens mentioned are the start of the Slitheen family (Raxacoricofallapatorian) government infiltration.