For aibhinn, who asked for all of the above, or any combination. ;) in the request post. Probably not what you had in mind, but... *g*
Pure crack, inspired by #17 of the August Pic Prompts.
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Duality by Dave7 [Reviews - 9]  Author's Notes: | |
His hand is on her skin, his cool fingers curling possessively around her bare thigh and Rose flushes, unsure of what, exactly, she should do.
“Lovely weather, we’re having,” the Doctor says, glaring at the man on her left as if he knows exactly what he’s doing — as, she supposes, he probably does.
The Doctor - her first Doctor - hums his agreement, grinning darkly as he squeezes her thigh and slides his hand further upwards. His fingers are dancing just under the hem of her dress before Rose, deciding she’s had enough, slips her own down to push him away. She’s trying to be subtle, because they are, after all, in a restaurant full of people and, while it may be the right side of Beahg for that kind of thing, she’s not nearly that open minded.
She shuffles her chair closer to the Doctor — her newer Doctor — who throws his arm over her shoulders and glares harder at his counterpart.
She sees her first Doctor frown and has to resist the urge to wriggle and dislodge the newer Doctor’s arm. “Explain the temporal-whatsis again?” she asks, looking for a distraction.
“Temporal fluxual displacement,” her new Doctor says. “Very rare, since the vortex is infinite in size, but the TARDIS stumbled across itself, and that cau-”
“Caused time to wrap around itself,” her first Doctor interrupts, “Like two balls of string getting tangled.”
“And that’s how come there’s two of you?”
“Right,” her new Doctor says, still huffing over being interrupted. “And they think I’m the rude one.”
“You are rude,” her first Doctor says.
“And you’re bitter.”
Her first Doctor’s frown turns into a pout and her heart clenches. She reaches across, taking hold of his hand and he immediately brightens. “At least,” he says, “I’m not a naff punk in plimsolls.”
“Oh,” her second Doctor starts, reaching down and wrapping his own hand around her free one, never mind the cutlery she’s still clutching. “You will be.”
“And how long, exactly, is this going to last?” Rose asks, exasperated - the sex is one thing, but, really, it’s getting a bit ridiculous when she can’t even eat a salad.
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