"Wanted: Human Woman"

by nostalgia [Reviews - 31]

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  • All Ages
  • Swearing
  • General, Humor




The Doctor sat leaning against the Fourth Wall of the TARDIS with his latest homemade laptop perched on his legs (which were, he thought yet again, far too long. He'd always meant to take them in a bit but had somehow never quite got round to it).

"Right," he said to himself, "I'm sick of talking to myself. It's time I got myself a new companion."

The TARDIS didn't say anything, because it wasn't that sort of fanfic.

"And none of this picking up people at random," he continued. "This time I'm doing it properly. Ad in The Times. Maybe Private Eye."

He stared at the blank page on his screen.

WANTED, he typed, carefully.

He looked at the word for a few moments. What did he want? Another human? Why not? They lived longer than hamsters and were almost as loyal as dogs.

WANTED: HUMAN

Male? Female?

HUMAN WOMAN

Yeah. The females didn't smell as much. Best get one of those again. Besides, Martha had probably left tampons and vibrators and those other things human women used a lot of. Might as well get something he had the right supplies for.

Not one that fancied him, said the sensible bit of his incredibly complex brain. Well. Maybe. He had to admit that he quite liked it when they fancied him. And they almost never walked out on him. He felt sure that season-long angst thing had cured him of his temporary asexuality. Good old Martha.

Besides, he might need someone to go round telling everyone to love him.

HETERO OR BISEXUAL

Just in case.

Right. What else?

MUST HAVE OWN BACKSTORY W/EASILY FIXABLE ANGST

He was having so many emotional episodes these days. It must be an aging thing. Maybe there was a Time Lord menopause no one had ever bothered to tell him about. In any case, he needed someone who could provide maybe forty minutes or so of angst once a week.

Oh, but hang on...

NO MOTHERS

He thought about that. Humans generally had mothers. And if they didn't they were normally quite upset about it. He dug out his mobile and sent a quick text to Martha. She was almost a doctor, she'd know about this sort of thing.

ALL HUMANSS HAV OR HAV HAD MOTHERS Y/N?
PS: WANT 2 COM BAK 2 ME?
PPS: PLS?

Time travel being what it was, the reply was swift.

Y.
PS: N.

Bugger.

Ungrateful cow. Well, he'd show her. He'd get the best human ever.

MUST BE COMPASSIONATE + BIT CLEVER + BRAVE + LOYAL

There. That'd separate the women from the... other women. What else did he like?

NICE TITS

He deleted that hastily. Shit, he wasn't supposed to be sexist these days. God, things had been so much easier in the old days when everything was in black and white.

MMM... JAMIE...

He blinked. Blimey these hands had a mind of their own. A sordid one at that. Best not to put that in the ad, in case people got the wrong impression.

(AM NOT PERVERTED)

Really, he wasn't. He just wanted a human woman to take off into time and space and possibly have Unresolved Sexual Tension with. Though surely this time he'd manage to get his end away? Not that he was perverted, but he did have needs.

He read over what he had so far.

WANTED: HUMAN WOMAN. HETERO OR BISEXUAL. MUST HAVE OWN BACKSTORY W/EASILY FIXABLE ANGST. MUST BE COMPASSIONATE + BIT CLEVER + BRAVE + LOYAL. (AM NOT PERVERTED)

Yeah, that was... completely shit. That wasn't going to get anyone good. He needed someone who'd stick around or he was going to get a reputation. Two years and he'd already had five companions. Yet again he wished that his entirely sensible plan of keeping the Master forever had worked out. It would have been nice. They could have done Time Lord things together. Travel, discovery, contemplation, sodomy. They could have been Mr and Mr Smith and had matching pyjamas.

Selfish bastard dying on him like that.

Anyway, back to the plan. He just needed to get the wording right. Maybe Sarah Jane could help? She was a journalist, wasn't she? Was that what she did? He checked on Google.

Smith & Jones Esoteric Detective Agency

That bitch! How dare she and Martha have a spinoff together! Bloody hell, what was it with companions and spinoffs these days? You never got that back in the old days. Unless you were Sarah. But, the Doctor remembered with a smug smile, that had never made it past the pilot episode. And she'd only got it because of the tin dog.

Maybe he could build a tin human? One that would never leave him and would never ask anything in terms of emotional validation. And it wouldn't piss on the furniture when it got drunk. He started mentally compiling its vocabulary. "Yes, Doctor." "No, Doctor." "I love you, Doctor." "Oh my God, it's eating my feet, Doctor."

Shit, wait, wasn't that an episode of Buffy: The Vampire Slayer? Scratch that idea then. Buffy rip-offs were for that lot in Cardiff, not the flagship of the franchise. He might be mumble-hundred years old, but that didn't mean he didn't have standards. He had seven-to-eight million viewers on a good week. Maybe he should mention that in the ad.

His mother, Verity, appeared in his mind and smacked him for blurring the boundaries of fiction too much.

"Ow," he said. She was a lot tougher than she looked.

Maybe... maybe this human women thing was an unexamined Freudian impulse to recreate his unusual relationship with his mother? Maybe that was why he expected them to love him unconditionally and always be there for him. Nah, that was too squicky for 7pm on a Saturday evening.

"Sod this," he said, "I'll just get in danger and keep the first one that does anythng half-useful. Why fix what isn't broken?"

Had it been that sort of fanfic, the TARDIS would have smacked her metaphorical head off her own keyboards.