April 21st, 2007

doctor/martha wet tenmartha

for theatrical_muse: Who is your best friend?

She's chock full of absolutely irritating questions.

This just sort of furthers the main, two-word adjective he's been using to describe her since she started on board: "Not Rose." Rose would've spent less time trying to drill knowledge from him and sort of figured it out as she went along. Martha, on the other hand, is the bookworm, the studier, and she needs to know before she experiences.

Which is completely and totally annoying.

How old are you? When's your birthday? How are Timelords born? What size shoe do you wear? Do you lot have sex? (This last one invoked a rather awkward conversation involving much blushing, much coughing, and many unnecessary headscratches.)

He doesn't understand these questions, they all seem so completely ridiculous. What did it matter when his birthday was, or what size shoe he wore? They were things that just sort of melted into the background of the rest of the universe. But still, she asks. And he won't admit he likes her company, won't admit that it's pulled him out of sitting around in his TARDIS for weeks at a time, talking to no one but himself and the TARDIS, won't admit that he's afraid she'll leave him, too. So he answers her questions, as best he can.

Today, it's a new question.

"Who's your best friend?" she asks, "Besides Rose, I mean, I know...she was your best friend for a long time."

He considers pelting out a deep, long-suffering sort of sigh, but realizes it's really a futile waste of breath. She's still going to ask, and if he doesn't answer, she'll just assume the worst or ask at a time where he can't think of a delicate response.

His eyes avoid hers, and he looks down to the console, "I don't know," he says, "The TARDIS, I suppose."

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Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,581