Christmas Ficathon: Day 17
Title: Marry Me
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: Iris, the Doctor
Rating: G
Word Count: 178
Summary: There is mention in the book The Scarlet Empress of Iris once proposing to the the Doctor (though for the life of me I can't remember which Doctor it was, so I've left that open to interpretation). This is just a little bit of related drabble.
He had faced down fleets of Daleks. He had battled Sontarans, Sea Devils, Cybermen, and Macra. He had come face-to-face with countless (though perhaps it would have been fun to keep track) races of aliens, ranging from terrifying to just plain silly. He had stopped genocidal dictators, megalomaniacs, and outright lunatics. He had encountered the likes of the Master, Omega, the Valeyard, even Rassilon himself. Most of the time, he had escaped by the skin of his teeth only.
But he would rather face them all of them at once than Iris Wildthyme, her silver hair drifting snakelike about her in the Venetian breeze.
Two words reverberated soundly against his eardrums; he was amazed he heard them at all over the terrified pounding of his own hearts. Briefly, he considered pretending he simply hadn’t heard, but it was too late for that. He knew he was giving a spectacular imitation of a cornered animal, and like one, he was caught between fight or flight.
He smiled nervously, apologetically - he would most certainly pay for this later - and fled.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: Iris, the Doctor
Rating: G
Word Count: 178
Summary: There is mention in the book The Scarlet Empress of Iris once proposing to the the Doctor (though for the life of me I can't remember which Doctor it was, so I've left that open to interpretation). This is just a little bit of related drabble.
He had faced down fleets of Daleks. He had battled Sontarans, Sea Devils, Cybermen, and Macra. He had come face-to-face with countless (though perhaps it would have been fun to keep track) races of aliens, ranging from terrifying to just plain silly. He had stopped genocidal dictators, megalomaniacs, and outright lunatics. He had encountered the likes of the Master, Omega, the Valeyard, even Rassilon himself. Most of the time, he had escaped by the skin of his teeth only.
But he would rather face them all of them at once than Iris Wildthyme, her silver hair drifting snakelike about her in the Venetian breeze.
Two words reverberated soundly against his eardrums; he was amazed he heard them at all over the terrified pounding of his own hearts. Briefly, he considered pretending he simply hadn’t heard, but it was too late for that. He knew he was giving a spectacular imitation of a cornered animal, and like one, he was caught between fight or flight.
He smiled nervously, apologetically - he would most certainly pay for this later - and fled.