Impressed
Title: Impressed
Author: Tess/mihane_echo
Rating: Rated E for everyone
Word Count: 810
Spoilers: None
Summary: Sylvia tells the Doctor exactly what she thinks of him.
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it belongs to the Beeb and I'm borrowing it to play with. I promise I will return them (marginally) unharmed. ;3
Author's Note: I've been writing Sylvia a lot lately and felt the need to finish this. Unbetaed and I'm half asleep, so who knows what it actually says... -_-;
It took several visits before she was able to stop tensing up every time her daughter walked in with That Man. She couldn't help it; something dreadful always happened whenever the Doctor turned up (though admittedly, the incident with the stove was pure chance. It had been acting up for weeks before he stopped by.)
But slowly, surely, Sylvia Noble began to grow accustomed to the alien's lanky form in her kitchen, and found his earnest desire to be liked by her endearing. It was subtle, a flicker in his eyes when he offered to help with dinner, or the guilty shadow on his face when he realised she was watching him watch her daughter. As though he could feel her inability to accept him and the life he led.
Just the same, every time the two of them popped in for tea the Doctor met her with a patience and mirth that was to be admired. And he was crazy in love with Donna; that was plain as daylight.
As she headed down the hall into the kitchen, laundry basket in tow, Sylvia could hear soft voices. Lovers' whisperings.
"You've been acting very strange lately," said the louder of the two.
"I know," replied the softer. "It's... hard to explain."
"Not really," retorted Donna smartly; she sounded like she was enjoying tormenting the Doctor. "You're trying to impress my mum, just like an ordinary bloke."
She didn't care to eavesdrop any further than that, so she marched straight into the kitchen, unsurprised to find the two of them standing together in the corner. The Time Lord was leaning against the counter and his ginger lady against him, arms encircling each other. Donna was grinning at him devilishly; the Doctor rolled his eyes at her in reply.
"Donna, you think I could borrow the Doctor for a minute?" Sylvia began, ignoring the pair of bewildered expressions that ensued. "I wouldn't mind help taking the laundry off the line before it rains."
"I'll do it," Donna said quickly, but Sylvia shook her head.
"It'll only be a minute. Why don't you put the kettle on?" She gave a cursory glance to the Doctor and headed out to the back.
He followed behind quietly, pausing at the door to gaze up at the cloudless sky. Sylvia missed his scrutinising gaze, but she heard him sigh as he came to stand next to her, plucking clothespins off the line and letting towels drape easily into his arms. "What did you want to talk about?"
Sylvia stifled a smile. At least he wasn't stupid. She took another towel off the line and let it drop into the basket, all the while gauging what she wanted to say. In the end, there wasn't really an easy way to do it, she decided.
"I don't think I can ever trust you," she said shortly. "Not really. Because everyday I wake up wondering if it's going to be the day you turn up on my doorstep to tell me you couldn't protect her this time. Every single time I see you, I get nervous about what's going to happen, to Donna, to my father, to our home, to the people I know."
She looked up at him, watched him as he manfully bore her resentment and her bitterness. "When you're about, I worry. And that's just the way it's going to be."
The Doctor swallowed reflexively, not looking at her. "All right."
"But I worry about you, too."
He turned to her, genuine surprise on his face. He considered this for a moment and Sylvia saw the moment he gave up trying to understand it. The corners of his eyes crinkled and he frowned. "You do?"
"Mhm. Because when all's said and done, I like you." She moved down the line and he followed, dumping the last of the towels into the basket. "You're good to me and to my father; it's been a while since Dad's enjoyed the company of another fella who likes the same things he does, not since Geoff passed. And you make my daughter happy." She gave him a sidelong smile. "That's what's important, I suppose."
He gave her a look that almost made her believe he was as old as Donna said he was; his eyes were ancient and impossibly old. She couldn't imagine what was going on behind those eyes, what he was thinking. But then he waggled his eyebrows and turned his gaze groundward, looking a bit sheepish, and the illusion was lost.
"Doesn't mean I should stop trying to impress you though, does it?" he teased lightly.
Sylvia rolled her eyes and headed back toward the house. "If we can get through a visit without something attacking, exploding or being sonicked, I'll be impressed."
The Doctor laughed as he held the door open for her. "So would I."
end
Author: Tess/mihane_echo
Rating: Rated E for everyone
Word Count: 810
Spoilers: None
Summary: Sylvia tells the Doctor exactly what she thinks of him.
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it belongs to the Beeb and I'm borrowing it to play with. I promise I will return them (marginally) unharmed. ;3
Author's Note: I've been writing Sylvia a lot lately and felt the need to finish this. Unbetaed and I'm half asleep, so who knows what it actually says... -_-;
It took several visits before she was able to stop tensing up every time her daughter walked in with That Man. She couldn't help it; something dreadful always happened whenever the Doctor turned up (though admittedly, the incident with the stove was pure chance. It had been acting up for weeks before he stopped by.)
But slowly, surely, Sylvia Noble began to grow accustomed to the alien's lanky form in her kitchen, and found his earnest desire to be liked by her endearing. It was subtle, a flicker in his eyes when he offered to help with dinner, or the guilty shadow on his face when he realised she was watching him watch her daughter. As though he could feel her inability to accept him and the life he led.
Just the same, every time the two of them popped in for tea the Doctor met her with a patience and mirth that was to be admired. And he was crazy in love with Donna; that was plain as daylight.
As she headed down the hall into the kitchen, laundry basket in tow, Sylvia could hear soft voices. Lovers' whisperings.
"You've been acting very strange lately," said the louder of the two.
"I know," replied the softer. "It's... hard to explain."
"Not really," retorted Donna smartly; she sounded like she was enjoying tormenting the Doctor. "You're trying to impress my mum, just like an ordinary bloke."
She didn't care to eavesdrop any further than that, so she marched straight into the kitchen, unsurprised to find the two of them standing together in the corner. The Time Lord was leaning against the counter and his ginger lady against him, arms encircling each other. Donna was grinning at him devilishly; the Doctor rolled his eyes at her in reply.
"Donna, you think I could borrow the Doctor for a minute?" Sylvia began, ignoring the pair of bewildered expressions that ensued. "I wouldn't mind help taking the laundry off the line before it rains."
"I'll do it," Donna said quickly, but Sylvia shook her head.
"It'll only be a minute. Why don't you put the kettle on?" She gave a cursory glance to the Doctor and headed out to the back.
He followed behind quietly, pausing at the door to gaze up at the cloudless sky. Sylvia missed his scrutinising gaze, but she heard him sigh as he came to stand next to her, plucking clothespins off the line and letting towels drape easily into his arms. "What did you want to talk about?"
Sylvia stifled a smile. At least he wasn't stupid. She took another towel off the line and let it drop into the basket, all the while gauging what she wanted to say. In the end, there wasn't really an easy way to do it, she decided.
"I don't think I can ever trust you," she said shortly. "Not really. Because everyday I wake up wondering if it's going to be the day you turn up on my doorstep to tell me you couldn't protect her this time. Every single time I see you, I get nervous about what's going to happen, to Donna, to my father, to our home, to the people I know."
She looked up at him, watched him as he manfully bore her resentment and her bitterness. "When you're about, I worry. And that's just the way it's going to be."
The Doctor swallowed reflexively, not looking at her. "All right."
"But I worry about you, too."
He turned to her, genuine surprise on his face. He considered this for a moment and Sylvia saw the moment he gave up trying to understand it. The corners of his eyes crinkled and he frowned. "You do?"
"Mhm. Because when all's said and done, I like you." She moved down the line and he followed, dumping the last of the towels into the basket. "You're good to me and to my father; it's been a while since Dad's enjoyed the company of another fella who likes the same things he does, not since Geoff passed. And you make my daughter happy." She gave him a sidelong smile. "That's what's important, I suppose."
He gave her a look that almost made her believe he was as old as Donna said he was; his eyes were ancient and impossibly old. She couldn't imagine what was going on behind those eyes, what he was thinking. But then he waggled his eyebrows and turned his gaze groundward, looking a bit sheepish, and the illusion was lost.
"Doesn't mean I should stop trying to impress you though, does it?" he teased lightly.
Sylvia rolled her eyes and headed back toward the house. "If we can get through a visit without something attacking, exploding or being sonicked, I'll be impressed."
The Doctor laughed as he held the door open for her. "So would I."
end