My fanfiction and other random ramblings

Srebrna, Skald Arkadii (and thoughts on writing)

But if you can still dream – 8

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“I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was.”
William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream (1595-6)

Doctor – Déjà vécu

The Doctor bit his lower lip and inhaled deeply. He was not going to look. No way. Jack was preparing something at the stove, dancing around the kitchen and humming “I’m too sexy”. No way. No. Bad mental image. No.

The problem was, Jack wasn’t doing it on purpose. He just was. The idea of Jack Harkness, the very essence of him made it so that he didn’t even have to drop any sexual references to create tension. He was one living, breathing – and humming! – sexual reference.

The Doctor groaned. This was not the line of thought he wanted to follow. Actually, no line of thought was really attractive lately. They tended to digress towards Captain Jack or towards his dreams.

Dreams were yet another topic he wished very much to avoid. Since Jack came abroad, he experienced a rising frequency of real – or day – dreams. Way too realistic, sometimes altogether too well entwined with his memories for him to be sure that they were simply productions of his overactive – and superior! – mind. No. They were only projections of his wishes and other could-have-beens. No more. In full daylight – or at least in whatever TARDIS supplied as daylight – he was completly conscious of what was memory and what was imagination and falsehood. Unfortunately, in the hours of darkness, when Jack finally succumbed to his human-body habits, when the TARDIS was doing some introspective work and didn’t take notice of him, his doubts emerged. In this time he was never really sure what happened – not anymore.

Jack prodded the meat on the skillet with an oversized fork and started stirring in tomato juice, still humming – at least he didn’t sing off-key – and wiggling his butt.

Doctor shut his eyes and tried to concentrate on something else. Dancing… when was the last time…

…Jack and Rose were laughing, and he wanted to show these two kids that being a timelord doesn’t make one a fossil, no matter what they might think. So he asked the TARDIS for a song, shed his coat, threw it over the railing and grabbed Rose’s hand, pulling her close in the rhythm of some random tune.

“You are missing a rose, Gomez” she smiled at him when they performed a bend-over and her leg swept up in a gancho.

“A rose?” he led her in a giro and a quick volcada. “Gomez?”

“Did you choose the music, or did you ask the TARDIS to pick a tango for you?” she almost tripped on some loose flooring, trying to perform a barrida.

“I… asked, yes.”

“So ask her now for the movie.”

Her eyes flashed as she tilted her head back in the next step and she smiled again, this time pursing her lips a little.

“Will you watch it with me?” he held her closer.

“Any time you wish… And now as you have ruined my shoes – and my toes – could we sit down?”

He shook his head to clear it of the swirling images. There was something wrong. Something didn’t match.

…shed his coat…

It should have been a leather jacket. A black leather jacket. Not a brown coat. And he wasn’t wearing a jumper, he was…

He bit his lip again.

It was way too realistic for his liking.


Rose woke up with the feeling of someone stepping on her toe-tips. They were hurting.


Written by Srebrna

2013/07/31 at 09:36

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