Fic
Title: The Night Before
Author: the_willows
Rating: Teen, just in case
Prompt Word: Picture
Disclaimer: Property of the Beeb. I just borrow without asking.
Notes/Warning: Follow up to my Response to Weekly Drabble Challenge #7 at doctor_donna
~oOo~
"But...brandy? That's an old man's drink. No offence to Gramps, but he was always swilling back the brandy when he though mum wasn't looking. I tried it once, it's disgusting!"
The Doctor ignored Donna's protests and poured a slug of the red-gold liquid into her glass.
"Ah, but this is Calsedian brandy, Donna. It's filtered through a natural crystal, so you get all the oompf without the afterburn."
Donna looked at him warily.
"If you're fibbing, your cheek will be feeling the afterburn of my hand, you do know that?"
He looked at her feigning solemnity.
"Scouts honour, Donna. Ooh, that rhymed!" He grinned at her and she sighed, lifting the glass to her lips.
"Doesn't have that paint stripper smell, so far so good."
The Doctor watched as Donna took a tentative sip. She let the liquid roll around her tongue for a few seconds before swallowing.
"Well?" he asked, keen to hear her opinion on one of his favourite tipples.
Donna held the glass up to the light, looking at the clarity of the sumptuous liquid.
"You know what, Spaceman, that's not half bad! It's warming as it goes down, but doesn't make my tongue curl. You might regret opening that with me, I think I could get a taste for it."
Donna took a larger gulp of brandy, smiling round the glass at him. It did have a lovely warming effect, most soothing. The Doctor beamed back at her and tipped more in to her glass.
~oOo~
"Wake up, Donna! Need to tell you something!"
The Doctor had been shoving and rolling his sleepy companion for a good five minutes, and he was still only getting grunts and faint gurgles in return.
He stood up, swaying dangerously, before lurching unsteadily from the bed towards a box he'd dragged noisily along the corridors to Donna's room.
He lifted the lid of the box, and rummaged about in it.
"'S'only fair, Donna, you're m' bes' frien'..." he finished the sentence with a belch and having gathered the items he required, he stumbled back to her bed, plonking himself heavily at her side.
Donna moaned in her sleep and made a vague gesture of fending off some unseen assailant. The Doctor grinned at her.
"I'm gonna tell you my na..my nay...nay...m' name, Donna. Cos you call me Spaceman, 'n I like it, I realllllly do..." he leaned over his sleeping friend, lifting a handful of her hair away from her ear, and whispering into it loudly.
"Bud i's not my real name. No, s'not, my real name is bigger, n' longer, n' better 'n that."
He sat back, letting her hair fall onto her shoulder, leaning too far back and falling off the bed.
In fits of drunken giggles, he picked himself back up again, and clambered onto the bed, using the sheets to pull himself on, and succeeding by his efforts to almost pull Donna off onto the floor as the bottom sheet came untucked.
He straddled her sleeping form, which was now prone on her back, and began unbuttoning her pyjama jacket.
"Tell y' what'm gonna do," he slurred, swaying forwards over her to add his brandy soaked breath to her immediate air supply, "'m gonna write it down f' you, so you don' forget." And with that, he hauled Donna up from the bed so that she was sitting against his chest as he straddled her legs, and attempted to completely remove her top.
After much shoving, a little swearing, and a couple of wide-eyed but unconscious moments from Donna, he succeeded in rendering her top half naked. He let go of her, and she flopped back onto the bed, her breasts making a very pleasing bouncing motion as she did so.
He admired her chest for a moment, but was soon focussed back on his task, excessive alcohol consumption having the same relaxing effect on certain Time Lord parts as it did human males.
"M' gonna need more space," he concluded, shuffling back down the bed until he was free of her legs. He lunged for the waistband of her pyjama trousers, and with a surprisingly deft movement, exposed Donna's lower half to his gaze.
"Collar n' cuffs match!" he observed triumphantly with a leery grin, before falling back onto the bed and lifting his legs up, allowing them to fall and cantilever him towards the edge, where he retrieved the items from the box that had been lost from his grip during the earlier fall from the bed.
He emerged from the tangle of sheets and covers with a paintbrush and a tube of paint in his hand, and climbed back on to the bed, where he straddled Donna's unconscious form once more.
Opening the tube, he squeezed a little paint onto the back of his hand, and mixed it around with his brush.
"Cos if I don' write it somewhere you'll rememmer, you might lose it..." he held the brush up to his face, satisfied with the texture of the paint, and shuffled forward until he was sat across Donna's hips.
The pressure on her pelvis caused her to stir, and she let out a moan that in a more lucid state, he would have instantly interpreted as pleasure.
He lent forward, brush in hand, the bristles trembling slightly as he guided them in a sweeping motion that encircled her right nipple. He lifted the brush, and drew his name across the soft skin of her breast.
Donna moaned again, a soft sighing sound, that had he not been so inebriated, would have caused him to abandon his task and take advantage of her. But instead he squeezed more paint onto his hand, and chose another spot on his living canvas.
"Th' secret t' learnin' s' repetition," he mumbled, and drew his brush along her other breast with a flourish.
~oOo~
The Doctor woke up, his tongue feeling decidedly fuzzy, and his eyes, although they felt to big for his face, were definitely of the opinion that this wasn't his room.
He turned his head to one side, and came face to face with Donna, who looked like she had been dragged through a hedge backwards. He frowned, having no recollection of having been invited into her room, and at a loss to explain his presence otherwise.
Sitting up, he hazarded a glance at his friend, who looked to all intents and purposes like she'd just fallen from the sky. She was sprawled unceremoniously across the bed, and her pyjama trousers only just covered her modesty. Her jacket wasn't doing much for her dignity either, it met in the middle of her chest, but one roll either way, and she'd be putting her goods well and truly on display.
Squinting, he leant over and with fumbling fingers, managed to fasten some of the buttons, keeping his eyes closed in case he miscalculated and exposed her. With eyes still closed, he turned on the bed, swinging his legs over the side and pushing himself up.
The room felt like it was leaning to the right, and he opened one eye to so if it were so. It wasn't. he opened the other eye as well, and deciding that it was actually him that was off kilter, he carefully made his way towards the door, and out in to the safety of the corridor. Being caught in her room when she woke up was not a fate he desired to succumb to.
After several minutes of staggering around aimlessly, The Doctor decided that he must actually still be several sheets to the wind, and headed for his room and the comfort of his own bed, where he hoped to sleep it off.
Calsedian brandy would be the death of him one day.
Author: the_willows
Rating: Teen, just in case
Prompt Word: Picture
Disclaimer: Property of the Beeb. I just borrow without asking.
Notes/Warning: Follow up to my Response to Weekly Drabble Challenge #7 at doctor_donna
~oOo~
"But...brandy? That's an old man's drink. No offence to Gramps, but he was always swilling back the brandy when he though mum wasn't looking. I tried it once, it's disgusting!"
The Doctor ignored Donna's protests and poured a slug of the red-gold liquid into her glass.
"Ah, but this is Calsedian brandy, Donna. It's filtered through a natural crystal, so you get all the oompf without the afterburn."
Donna looked at him warily.
"If you're fibbing, your cheek will be feeling the afterburn of my hand, you do know that?"
He looked at her feigning solemnity.
"Scouts honour, Donna. Ooh, that rhymed!" He grinned at her and she sighed, lifting the glass to her lips.
"Doesn't have that paint stripper smell, so far so good."
The Doctor watched as Donna took a tentative sip. She let the liquid roll around her tongue for a few seconds before swallowing.
"Well?" he asked, keen to hear her opinion on one of his favourite tipples.
Donna held the glass up to the light, looking at the clarity of the sumptuous liquid.
"You know what, Spaceman, that's not half bad! It's warming as it goes down, but doesn't make my tongue curl. You might regret opening that with me, I think I could get a taste for it."
Donna took a larger gulp of brandy, smiling round the glass at him. It did have a lovely warming effect, most soothing. The Doctor beamed back at her and tipped more in to her glass.
~oOo~
"Wake up, Donna! Need to tell you something!"
The Doctor had been shoving and rolling his sleepy companion for a good five minutes, and he was still only getting grunts and faint gurgles in return.
He stood up, swaying dangerously, before lurching unsteadily from the bed towards a box he'd dragged noisily along the corridors to Donna's room.
He lifted the lid of the box, and rummaged about in it.
"'S'only fair, Donna, you're m' bes' frien'..." he finished the sentence with a belch and having gathered the items he required, he stumbled back to her bed, plonking himself heavily at her side.
Donna moaned in her sleep and made a vague gesture of fending off some unseen assailant. The Doctor grinned at her.
"I'm gonna tell you my na..my nay...nay...m' name, Donna. Cos you call me Spaceman, 'n I like it, I realllllly do..." he leaned over his sleeping friend, lifting a handful of her hair away from her ear, and whispering into it loudly.
"Bud i's not my real name. No, s'not, my real name is bigger, n' longer, n' better 'n that."
He sat back, letting her hair fall onto her shoulder, leaning too far back and falling off the bed.
In fits of drunken giggles, he picked himself back up again, and clambered onto the bed, using the sheets to pull himself on, and succeeding by his efforts to almost pull Donna off onto the floor as the bottom sheet came untucked.
He straddled her sleeping form, which was now prone on her back, and began unbuttoning her pyjama jacket.
"Tell y' what'm gonna do," he slurred, swaying forwards over her to add his brandy soaked breath to her immediate air supply, "'m gonna write it down f' you, so you don' forget." And with that, he hauled Donna up from the bed so that she was sitting against his chest as he straddled her legs, and attempted to completely remove her top.
After much shoving, a little swearing, and a couple of wide-eyed but unconscious moments from Donna, he succeeded in rendering her top half naked. He let go of her, and she flopped back onto the bed, her breasts making a very pleasing bouncing motion as she did so.
He admired her chest for a moment, but was soon focussed back on his task, excessive alcohol consumption having the same relaxing effect on certain Time Lord parts as it did human males.
"M' gonna need more space," he concluded, shuffling back down the bed until he was free of her legs. He lunged for the waistband of her pyjama trousers, and with a surprisingly deft movement, exposed Donna's lower half to his gaze.
"Collar n' cuffs match!" he observed triumphantly with a leery grin, before falling back onto the bed and lifting his legs up, allowing them to fall and cantilever him towards the edge, where he retrieved the items from the box that had been lost from his grip during the earlier fall from the bed.
He emerged from the tangle of sheets and covers with a paintbrush and a tube of paint in his hand, and climbed back on to the bed, where he straddled Donna's unconscious form once more.
Opening the tube, he squeezed a little paint onto the back of his hand, and mixed it around with his brush.
"Cos if I don' write it somewhere you'll rememmer, you might lose it..." he held the brush up to his face, satisfied with the texture of the paint, and shuffled forward until he was sat across Donna's hips.
The pressure on her pelvis caused her to stir, and she let out a moan that in a more lucid state, he would have instantly interpreted as pleasure.
He lent forward, brush in hand, the bristles trembling slightly as he guided them in a sweeping motion that encircled her right nipple. He lifted the brush, and drew his name across the soft skin of her breast.
Donna moaned again, a soft sighing sound, that had he not been so inebriated, would have caused him to abandon his task and take advantage of her. But instead he squeezed more paint onto his hand, and chose another spot on his living canvas.
"Th' secret t' learnin' s' repetition," he mumbled, and drew his brush along her other breast with a flourish.
~oOo~
The Doctor woke up, his tongue feeling decidedly fuzzy, and his eyes, although they felt to big for his face, were definitely of the opinion that this wasn't his room.
He turned his head to one side, and came face to face with Donna, who looked like she had been dragged through a hedge backwards. He frowned, having no recollection of having been invited into her room, and at a loss to explain his presence otherwise.
Sitting up, he hazarded a glance at his friend, who looked to all intents and purposes like she'd just fallen from the sky. She was sprawled unceremoniously across the bed, and her pyjama trousers only just covered her modesty. Her jacket wasn't doing much for her dignity either, it met in the middle of her chest, but one roll either way, and she'd be putting her goods well and truly on display.
Squinting, he leant over and with fumbling fingers, managed to fasten some of the buttons, keeping his eyes closed in case he miscalculated and exposed her. With eyes still closed, he turned on the bed, swinging his legs over the side and pushing himself up.
The room felt like it was leaning to the right, and he opened one eye to so if it were so. It wasn't. he opened the other eye as well, and deciding that it was actually him that was off kilter, he carefully made his way towards the door, and out in to the safety of the corridor. Being caught in her room when she woke up was not a fate he desired to succumb to.
After several minutes of staggering around aimlessly, The Doctor decided that he must actually still be several sheets to the wind, and headed for his room and the comfort of his own bed, where he hoped to sleep it off.
Calsedian brandy would be the death of him one day.