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AIM fic
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lf2871, because her workday sucked. It ended up being a tiny little bit over 1000 words (seriously, what is it with me not being able to write fic with less than 1000 words?), and I thought I'd share. It's drunk!Doctor yet again - he's just so shiny when he's drunk - and Donna's involved, too. Very tame PG.
"No more vodka for you!" Donna snatched the slim, tall bottle out of the Doctor's reach. The Doctor's long fingers closed around thin air, and he opened and closed them uselessly a couple more times.
"Give it back, Donna," he whined, slightly slurring the words. Okay, maybe more than slightly. They were in the TARDIS' kitchen, sitting at the table, and the Doctor was leaning across the tabletop, reaching out for the bottle Donna was holding out of reach. "Gimme, that's mine."
"No. I'm not having you puke or do any other disgusting thing you Time Lords might do when you're drunk. Jeez, you had what, four tiny shots mixed with OJ? You really are a light-weight."
"Am not," the Doctor sulked. He'd stopped trying to reach the bottle, but had not really straightened up again, and was now more or less lying on the tabletop, his head resting on his arm. He glared up at her. "I'm older than you. I should be telling you when to stop."
"Well, at some point, being older just means that you're growing senile and less reliable." She got up and put the vodka away, then turned around, and took in the picture of the Doctor slouching in the kitchen chair. It made her smile an indulgent little grin. "When's the last time you got drunk?"
The Doctor didn't answer at first. "I dunno," he said then, contemplative. "Must've been a while. I got drunk with Jack once."
Donna raised an eyebrow, remembering the occasional tales the Doctor had told her about Jack Harkness. "Did you now. That must have been interesting."
"It probably was. I don't really remember."
Donna snorted. "Well," she said, "I think it's time someone went to bed. Before you do something you'll regret."
At that, the Doctor, who had been facing away from her, shuffled around until he was able to turn his head. "Whassat supposed to mean?"
"Oh, nothing." Donna tried not to imagine in too much detail what exactly the Doctor might have gotten up to with Jack that he might be better off not remembering - she'd save imagining that for later when she was alone - and went over to the Doctor, putting a hand on his back. "C'mon then."
The Doctor didn't move. "C'mon where?"
"To your room. You need to sleep this off, or you'll feel like crap in the morning." She raised an eyebrow. "You can trust me on these things. I, unlike you, have previous."
"I don't sleep." The Doctor still wouldn't move.
Donna snorted. "Liar. I've seen you sleep. You fell asleep on the couch in the living room just the other day."
"Did not. That wasn't sleeping."
"What was it then?"
The Doctor frowned. "Meditation."
"Meditation my arse. You were snoring."
"I was meditating."
Donna rolled her eyes, but couldn't help a smile. "Whatever. Are you coming?" She tugged more emphatically on his arm.
"Alright, alright." A little unsteadily, the Doctor clambered off the chair and got to his feet. Donna watched him, half-amused, half-worried, as he stood there, swaying and orienting himself.
"You know, I didn't even know I had any vodka." The Doctor took a step towards her, stumbled, and would have fallen if Donna hadn't caught him.
"Easy now." She wrapped her arm around his slim waist, marveling once again at how skinny he was. His body didn't feel as bony under her fingers as she'd imagined; what he lacked in fat and thick muscle tissue, he made up for with a strong, wiry frame. As he shifted his weight onto her shoulders, she also found out that he was surprisingly heavy. It didn't feel bad, though. Not at all, actually.
Stop perving, Donna Noble, she told herself. He's drunk, and you're not to take advantage.
To distract herself, she started guiding him towards the door, trying to remember which way was the shortest to the Doctor's room. The Doctor wasn't making it too easy on her, though. Clingy at the soberest of times, the Doctor was all over her, his hands wandering in a way that could not have been coincidental, his unsteady walk growing even more unsteady when he noticed that every stumble would mean Donna tightening her arm around him to keep him from losing his balance.
Men, she thought. All the same, all across the universe.
They made their stumbling way down several corridors, down a staircase - on the bottom step, the Doctor actually slipped and would have fallen if Donna hadn't caught him, wrapping her arms around him and ending up with her chest pressed against his in a way that made her feel a slight tingle trailing down from her stomach - and past a greenhouse, until they finally reached the Doctor's room.
"There you go," she said as she more or less dumped him on the bed, where he actually bounced a couple of times. She looked down at him, the disshevelled clothes and the untidy hair, and the tingling grew stronger. Resolutely, she grabbed both the Doctor's ankles and dumped his legs on the bed, evicting a surprised squeak from him. "You need to sleep this off. But you'll probably still feel like crap tomorrow. Vodka does that."
"You have nice -" The Doctor interrupted himself and blinked a couple of times, then looked her up and down. "Nice hair," he finished.
Donna snorted. "Right," she said. "Thanks. You too, by the way."
He gave her a big dopey grin. "You think so?"
"I think any woman would. But why don't we continue this conversation tomorrow?"
"Yes. Yes. Tomorrow. Good- " He suddenly broke off and yawned. "Good idea."
"Yes. I only have that kind." She smiled down at him, considered briefly whether or not she should take off his trainers, then figured that if he was too drunk to take off his shoes, he was too drunk to care whether or not he was sleeping in them, and went over to the door, resting her hand on the light switch and uncannily feeling like a mother who has just put her teenage son to bed after his first night out. "Night, Doctor."
There was no reply, only a gentle snoring sound, interlaced with small wet chortling noises. Donna smiled, turned off the lights and left.
END
The Doctor and Jack really did get drunk together. In my last AIM fic.
lf2871, because her workday sucked. It ended up being a tiny little bit over 1000 words (seriously, what is it with me not being able to write fic with less than 1000 words?), and I thought I'd share. It's drunk!Doctor yet again - he's just so shiny when he's drunk - and Donna's involved, too. Very tame PG."No more vodka for you!" Donna snatched the slim, tall bottle out of the Doctor's reach. The Doctor's long fingers closed around thin air, and he opened and closed them uselessly a couple more times.
"Give it back, Donna," he whined, slightly slurring the words. Okay, maybe more than slightly. They were in the TARDIS' kitchen, sitting at the table, and the Doctor was leaning across the tabletop, reaching out for the bottle Donna was holding out of reach. "Gimme, that's mine."
"No. I'm not having you puke or do any other disgusting thing you Time Lords might do when you're drunk. Jeez, you had what, four tiny shots mixed with OJ? You really are a light-weight."
"Am not," the Doctor sulked. He'd stopped trying to reach the bottle, but had not really straightened up again, and was now more or less lying on the tabletop, his head resting on his arm. He glared up at her. "I'm older than you. I should be telling you when to stop."
"Well, at some point, being older just means that you're growing senile and less reliable." She got up and put the vodka away, then turned around, and took in the picture of the Doctor slouching in the kitchen chair. It made her smile an indulgent little grin. "When's the last time you got drunk?"
The Doctor didn't answer at first. "I dunno," he said then, contemplative. "Must've been a while. I got drunk with Jack once."
Donna raised an eyebrow, remembering the occasional tales the Doctor had told her about Jack Harkness. "Did you now. That must have been interesting."
"It probably was. I don't really remember."
Donna snorted. "Well," she said, "I think it's time someone went to bed. Before you do something you'll regret."
At that, the Doctor, who had been facing away from her, shuffled around until he was able to turn his head. "Whassat supposed to mean?"
"Oh, nothing." Donna tried not to imagine in too much detail what exactly the Doctor might have gotten up to with Jack that he might be better off not remembering - she'd save imagining that for later when she was alone - and went over to the Doctor, putting a hand on his back. "C'mon then."
The Doctor didn't move. "C'mon where?"
"To your room. You need to sleep this off, or you'll feel like crap in the morning." She raised an eyebrow. "You can trust me on these things. I, unlike you, have previous."
"I don't sleep." The Doctor still wouldn't move.
Donna snorted. "Liar. I've seen you sleep. You fell asleep on the couch in the living room just the other day."
"Did not. That wasn't sleeping."
"What was it then?"
The Doctor frowned. "Meditation."
"Meditation my arse. You were snoring."
"I was meditating."
Donna rolled her eyes, but couldn't help a smile. "Whatever. Are you coming?" She tugged more emphatically on his arm.
"Alright, alright." A little unsteadily, the Doctor clambered off the chair and got to his feet. Donna watched him, half-amused, half-worried, as he stood there, swaying and orienting himself.
"You know, I didn't even know I had any vodka." The Doctor took a step towards her, stumbled, and would have fallen if Donna hadn't caught him.
"Easy now." She wrapped her arm around his slim waist, marveling once again at how skinny he was. His body didn't feel as bony under her fingers as she'd imagined; what he lacked in fat and thick muscle tissue, he made up for with a strong, wiry frame. As he shifted his weight onto her shoulders, she also found out that he was surprisingly heavy. It didn't feel bad, though. Not at all, actually.
Stop perving, Donna Noble, she told herself. He's drunk, and you're not to take advantage.
To distract herself, she started guiding him towards the door, trying to remember which way was the shortest to the Doctor's room. The Doctor wasn't making it too easy on her, though. Clingy at the soberest of times, the Doctor was all over her, his hands wandering in a way that could not have been coincidental, his unsteady walk growing even more unsteady when he noticed that every stumble would mean Donna tightening her arm around him to keep him from losing his balance.
Men, she thought. All the same, all across the universe.
They made their stumbling way down several corridors, down a staircase - on the bottom step, the Doctor actually slipped and would have fallen if Donna hadn't caught him, wrapping her arms around him and ending up with her chest pressed against his in a way that made her feel a slight tingle trailing down from her stomach - and past a greenhouse, until they finally reached the Doctor's room.
"There you go," she said as she more or less dumped him on the bed, where he actually bounced a couple of times. She looked down at him, the disshevelled clothes and the untidy hair, and the tingling grew stronger. Resolutely, she grabbed both the Doctor's ankles and dumped his legs on the bed, evicting a surprised squeak from him. "You need to sleep this off. But you'll probably still feel like crap tomorrow. Vodka does that."
"You have nice -" The Doctor interrupted himself and blinked a couple of times, then looked her up and down. "Nice hair," he finished.
Donna snorted. "Right," she said. "Thanks. You too, by the way."
He gave her a big dopey grin. "You think so?"
"I think any woman would. But why don't we continue this conversation tomorrow?"
"Yes. Yes. Tomorrow. Good- " He suddenly broke off and yawned. "Good idea."
"Yes. I only have that kind." She smiled down at him, considered briefly whether or not she should take off his trainers, then figured that if he was too drunk to take off his shoes, he was too drunk to care whether or not he was sleeping in them, and went over to the door, resting her hand on the light switch and uncannily feeling like a mother who has just put her teenage son to bed after his first night out. "Night, Doctor."
There was no reply, only a gentle snoring sound, interlaced with small wet chortling noises. Donna smiled, turned off the lights and left.
END
The Doctor and Jack really did get drunk together. In my last AIM fic.
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Thank you :D
P.S Is still awed by your ability to write Donna especially, she's WAYYY too difficult. Your writing of both her and the Doctor on the spot was majorly impressive.
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Thanks for the comment! :)