Pairing-and-prompt meme II
May. 8th, 2015 07:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
john_amend_allMemed from thisbluespirit:
thisbluespirit:
Give me a number and a pairing & I'll write a drabble or ficlet!
- glad you came
- team
- don't lie
- i'm coming home
- story of my life
- falling down
- clarity
- counting stars
- wake me up
- safe and sound
- lose yourself
- in the sun
- the monster
- burn
- sweet nothing
- i'm with you
- we believe
- thanks for the memories
- anything could happen
- little talks
- the pretender
- by the way
- sanctuary
- paradise
- where is my mind
no subject
Date: 2015-05-08 07:54 pm (UTC)3. Eight/Charley
24. Adam Adamant/Georgina Jones
Eight / Charley, don't lie, 664 words
Date: 2015-05-10 10:43 am (UTC)The rain had not eased; if anything, it had got heavier. The footpath round the edge of the field remained as rough as ever, but now its surface was becoming slick and treacherous as well. Nonetheless, the Doctor, with Charley's arm still grasped firmly in his own, set out along it for the fourth time.
"How are you feeling?" he asked her.
Charley yawned hugely. "Still wet. Still sleepy. Want to go to bed."
"No, that won't do. You've got to keep going." He looked down at the purple stain on her arm, clearly visible through the sodden fabric of her light summer blouse. "That poison isn't out of your system yet." He caught her as she slipped and nearly fell. "Why did you have to go exploring in the medicine garden anyway?"
It wasn't the first time he had asked the question. But even in her weakened, feverish state, she had always evaded it.
"I was bored," Charley said.
The Doctor waited to see if she had any more to say. When she didn't, he turned towards her, hoping she hadn't fallen asleep on her feet again. To his relief her eyes were open, though the pupils were still dilated.
"Just that?" he said. "Just bored?"
Charley didn't answer. "Where are we going?" she asked. "'M sure I've seen that tree before."
"You've got to stay on your feet," the Doctor urged her. "Keep moving. You mustn't lie down." He shivered as a trickle of rain ran down his neck.
"How long do I have to do this?" Charley asked, her voice sounding a little stronger.
"Until I'm sure you're safe."
"We'll be here all night—" Charley broke off as she lost her footing on the slippery, uneven path. Had the Doctor not caught hold of her, she would have ended up flat on her back; instead, she found herself held firmly in his arms.
"My shoe's come off," she said, looking up at him.
"I'll give you a hand, Cinderella." Instead of bending down to retrieve her shoe, though, he remained standing and pushed her wet hair back from her forehead. Her temperature was still high, but perhaps a little less than it had been.
Charley rested her burning face against his waistcoat. "You're soaking wet," she said, as if realising it for the first time.
"Yes, I'd noticed."
"So am I." Charley giggled. "We should get out of these wet things."
The Doctor caught her hand as she began to fumble with his waistcoat buttons. "I intend to. But not in a muddy field in a rainstorm."
Charley yawned again. "Can't wait."
Keeping her supported with one arm, the Doctor bent down, retrieved her lost shoe, and pushed it onto her foot.
"Come on," he said. "Got to keep moving."
He set out briskly, half-dragging Charley with him.
"I got a cuddle, at least," Charley said, sounding as if she was talking more to herself than him. "Maybe that potion did work, after all."
"What potion?" The Doctor didn't slacken his pace, but he gave her a sharp look. "Were you trying to make... was that what you were doing in the medicine garden?"
Charley didn't immediately answer. When she next spoke, it was only to say "I can't remember."
The Doctor sighed with relief. "That's good."
"What, it's good that I can't remember?"
"No." The Doctor beamed at her. "It's good that you feel well enough to try and lie to me."
Charley kicked at a puddle, sending up a spray of muddy water. "Does that mean we can stop doing this now?"
"Oh, I think another couple of laps, just to make sure."
"I suppose we can't get any wetter." Charley fell silent for a few paces. "When you said 'make sure', did you mean 'make sure I'm all right' or 'make sure I don't do anything so foolish again'?"
The Doctor smiled fondly down at her. "You'll have to make your own mind up about that," he said.
Re: Eight / Charley, don't lie, 664 words
Date: 2015-05-10 04:45 pm (UTC)Re: Eight / Charley, don't lie, 664 words
Date: 2015-05-10 06:06 pm (UTC)Adam / Georgie, paradise, 696 words
Date: 2015-05-10 10:46 am (UTC)Adam brought the Mini to a halt, and turned to his passenger.
"I propose that you come no further, Miss Jones," he said, though he clearly had little hope that she might take his advice. "Or you will be unable to avoid seeing the most distressing sights."
"What, people without their clothes on?" Georgie had leaned back in her seat, grinning. "I don't think that's distressing. Just funny."
Adam didn't directly answer her. Instead, he looked down at the naturist colony, a lavish pleasure garden spread out below them.
"What do you see, when you look at that?" he'd said. "'Camp Eden.' A very paradise on Earth?"
"I can see a load of people having a great time," Georgie said. "What are you getting at?"
"I see a panopticon," Adam replied gravely. "That garden has been laid out so that every square inch can be watched from Colegrove Hall. And its inhabitants have voluntarily surrendered all their personal property — down to the clothes on their backs."
"You're making it sound like a prison camp!"
"Precisely. Moreover, without uniforms, there would be no way to distinguish fellow inmates from jailers. Any remark could be overheard. If we need to converse freely once we are within the camp, we shall have to take special measures."
"What sort of measures?" Georgie asked.
"That depends on what I find. Miss Jones, I urge you, once again..."
Georgie shook her head firmly. "I'm coming with you. You can kick me out of the car but I'll walk the rest of the way."
"I feared as much. Please believe that I am only trying to protect you."
"I'm not the one who gets upset by people walking about naked." Georgie put her hands behind her head. "I bet that place is full of pretty girls. What on earth will you do?"
"I shall have to place my faith in iron self-control," Adam said, sounding like a knight preparing to defend a castle against overwhelming odds.
Visitors to Camp Eden slept in individual chalets, ranged around the edges of its carefully-planned garden. The night was hot and humid, the bed not particularly comfortable, and Georgie found sleep a distant prospect.
"Georgina, dearest heart," a low voice said.
The hairs on Georgie's neck stood on end. She'd recognised the speaker as Adam, but she hadn't ever known him to speak like that. Particularly not to her.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, jumping to her feet.
He stepped out of the shadows, a dim silhouette in the blackness.
"I would have thought my purpose was clear, fairest nymph," he murmured, drawing her close to him. Georgie couldn't smell any trace of alcohol on his breath. Had he been drugged? Or somehow mind-controlled?
His hand ran down her spine, and suddenly formed the outline of a letter. Then another, and another.
CABIN BUGGED. PLAY ALONG.
Realisation and relief flooded over Georgie in equal measure. He hadn't come here to seduce her. It was just a pretence so they could talk — well, communicate — without being overheard.
The problem was, she realised, as Adam's other hand teased at a lock of her hair, that she was finding even a pretend seduction from him far more thrilling than a genuine seduction from anyone else she'd known.
His hand moved again. TOMORROW PM. GO TO FOUNTAIN...
Georgie struggled to concentrate on the words he was writing, and not on the sensation of his hands on her bare skin, the warmth of his body against hers. She moaned softly, telling herself that she was only playing her part, but her body seemed to have its own, more genuine ideas.
He had finished writing his message, Georgie realised, and seemed to be awaiting a reply. She ran one hand down his neck, and formed the words GOT IT on his chest. What she ought to do now was draw away, but she knew she couldn't. Or wouldn't. She'd laughed at Adam's talk of 'iron self-control', but she hadn't realised that her own might be put to the test. And fail so completely and gloriously.
"This really is Eden," she murmured, melting into his arms. "Oh, Adam..."
Re: Adam / Georgie, paradise, 696 words
Date: 2015-05-10 04:46 pm (UTC)Re: Adam / Georgie, paradise, 696 words
Date: 2015-05-10 06:05 pm (UTC)Re: Adam / Georgie, paradise, 696 words
Date: 2015-05-18 02:36 pm (UTC)Re: Adam / Georgie, paradise, 696 words
Date: 2015-05-18 06:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-05-09 02:35 pm (UTC)#25 Adam Adamant/Georgie Jones
#13 Four/Romana
Adam / Georgie, where is my mind, 730 words
Date: 2015-05-14 10:25 pm (UTC)Katie had been tidying the chairs in the hotel lounge when she heard the ping of the reception bell. Letting go of the chair she'd just picked up, she hurried out to the lobby. It wasn't common for guests to arrive at this late hour, but it certainly wasn't unheard-of.
She found two visitors standing at the desk: a tall, handsome man in antiquated clothes, and a young blonde wearing trousers and a striped top. They didn't appear to have any luggage; Katie mentally put them down as unexpectedly stranded travellers.
"Can I help?" she asked.
The two glanced at each other, as if they weren't sure who was best placed to answer her question. Then the man said "Have you got any free rooms for tonight?"
Katie nodded. "We're quite full, but we've got a cancellation on Room 12. That's a double," she added, glancing between the two and wondering what their relationship might be. Neither was wearing a ring, but they didn't have the furtive attitude of so many adulterous couples she'd seen. Was this an elopement, perhaps?
"If that is all you have, we shall be obliged to take it," the woman said. For all her casual attire, her movements and speech were thoroughly aristocratic.
"OK." Elopement definitely seemed like it might be the explanation. A wayward daughter of aristocracy, running away with... a stage magician? Katie forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand. "There's a five pound deposit, so if I can take that now?"
"No problem." The man patted his pockets. "Hang on a mo..."
"Left waistcoat pocket," the woman said.
"Got it." The man finally managed to locate his wallet. "Here you go."
"And we require to be called at six in the morning," the woman said, as Katie jotted down the details of the transaction.
The man's expression verged on a pout. "Rats. I was hoping for a nice lazy breakfast in bed."
"Mi—" The woman caught herself. "George. You know how important it is that we reach Worthy Ducis tomorrow in time to intercept Professor Ellaston and relieve him of his fiendish invention."
"And get swapped back, I know." The man smiled wickedly. "If I still feel like it by then. It's rather fab being the one in charge for once."
Katie, who had been almost certain that they were married after all, abandoned that theory in favour of one that the man was the girl's butler. As she weighed the competing explanations of a clandestine affair, a sinister case of blackmail, or a jewel heist, she realised she hadn't quite finished checking them in.
She cleared her throat. "Just need you to sign the register and then it's all sorted."
The two signed — both with a sort of careful clumsiness which led Katie to suspect they weren't using their real names. "George Jones" and "Eve Jones". Well, she'd seen less convincing aliases.
"Could you direct us to our room?" the woman — "Eve" — asked.
"Of course. This way." Katie put the register in its drawer, and led them in the direction of the main staircase. "I'll make sure you're called at six. Did you have any luggage?"
"Sadly not," the woman said. "Our plans have undergone a most awkward modification."
"Well, I think it's fun," the man said. "Bet I know what you're thinking right now."
The woman grimaced. "The Professor has a great deal to answer for."
"And I bet he'll have a lot more to answer for tomorrow, won't he?"
Katie stopped before the door of Room 12, unlocked it, and held out the key. Both guests reached for it, then tried to let the other have it, before eventually the man took it from her.
"Thank you, miss," the woman said. She was still trying to maintain her composure, but looked as if she was about to succumb to a fit of the giggles at any moment. "I don't think we shall require any further assistance tonight."
Katie, abandoning all hope of working out what the relationship between these two was, took her leave. As she walked away down the corridor, she heard the man begin "This is going to be the weirdest night I ever—" before the door closed behind them.
You definitely saw some funny people in this business, Katie mused, as she returned to the lounge to resume her interrupted tidying.
Re: Adam / Georgie, where is my mind, 730 words
Date: 2015-05-15 03:39 pm (UTC)Re: Adam / Georgie, where is my mind, 730 words
Date: 2015-05-17 06:36 pm (UTC)Re: Adam / Georgie, where is my mind, 730 words
Date: 2015-05-18 02:09 pm (UTC)Four/Romana, the monster, 682 words
Date: 2015-05-17 06:35 pm (UTC)The hour was sufficiently late that any reasonable person — in particular, the people living in this mansion — ought to be asleep in bed. Time Lords, of course, had different ideas about reasonableness.
"You think it'll attack tonight?" Romana asked. She had changed into the nightdress her hosts had provided, and was sitting up in the double bed, but showed no signs of composing herself for sleep.
"If it's got any sense it will." The Doctor was sitting in a chair on the far side of the room, concealed from view by an elaborately-decorated screen. "And it ought to follow the scent trail to this room."
"Fair enough." Romana gripped the sonic screwdriver in her hand. "We'd better turn the light off, hadn't we? Let it think we're asleep."
She reached out to the bakelite bulb that dangled by its wire from the ceiling, and pushed the button on it. Darkness fell, and silence, broken only by the sound of regular breathing.
"Don't do that," Romana said, presently.
"Don't do what?" the Doctor said.
"Knit. I know you're doing it — I can hear the needles. Why are you knitting, anyway?"
"You never know when a spare scarf might come in handy."
"Well, it's distracting me."
"I thought you wanted to be sure you didn't doze off." Nevertheless, the Doctor meekly wrapped up his incipient scarf, needles and wool, and pushed them into a pocket of his coat.
It was five minutes later that Romana said "Are you reading a book?"
"Of course I'm reading a book."
"Braille, I suppose."
"Yes. How did you know? I made sure I wasn't making a noise turning the pages."
Romana sighed. "You were arguing with the author. Is it that new one by Oolon Colluphid? You always argue when you read his books. That's when you don't just throw them across the room."
"Well, he deserves it." The Doctor had long since abandoned any attempt to keep his voice down, and was talking as if in a normal conversation. "The man's a transparent nitwit and his books only sell because other idiots try to get them banned."
"Shhhh!" Romana hissed. "You'll wake everyone up."
"All right, all right."
Romana had no sooner closed her eyes again than the book hit the wall just above her head, with sufficient force that she was surprised it didn't bring the wall down.
"What was it this time?" she asked patiently.
"He just presented his proof that the Osirans never existed," the Doctor replied. "I've never read such nonsense in my lives."
"I thought you said you'd met an Osiran."
"Exactly. But Osirans don't fit into whatever theory he's pushing today, so they've got to be disproved." The Doctor jumped to his feet. "I've a good mind to write him a strongly-worded letter."
"But perhaps now isn't the best time to do that?" Romana said patiently.
"Possibly not." The Doctor sat down again. "As you were, then."
All too soon, Romana found her attempts to settle down and at least feign slumber were once more frustrated — this time, by a regular whizzing noise. She reached for the light switch, and snapped it on, to reveal, just as she'd expected, the Doctor's yoyo zipping through the air and returning to his hand. Without a word, she gathered up her bedding, and made her way to the door.
"Are you going somewhere?" the Doctor asked.
"Yes," Romana said, trying to keep her voice lighthearted. "I'm going to wait in the corridor."
"Is there something wrong with the bed?" The Doctor leaned forward with concern. "Has your hot-water bottle sprung a leak?"
"No, it hasn't, because I don't have a hot-water bottle." Romana opened the door. "If anything tries to eat me I'll let you know."
"You're taking a big risk." The Doctor shook his head sententiously. "Why not just wait here with me?"
Romana had been about to close the door behind her, but she turned back. "Because whatever's out there, being eaten by it can't be half as bad for my patience as spending the night with you."
Re: Four/Romana, the monster, 682 words
Date: 2015-05-18 02:13 pm (UTC)Re: Four/Romana, the monster, 682 words
Date: 2015-05-18 06:37 pm (UTC)