TITLE: It Takes Some Convincing
E-MAIL: eli @ popullus.net
RATING: PG
POSTED: Jan. 5, 2006
SUMMARY: "I don't go around making everything sonic, Rose. It's not what I do."
NOTES: Contains no Jack and absolutely no science. For Ozymandia's birthday. She asked for Nine or Ten and chopsticks. Since we've still only just met Ten, I stuck with my Doctor.
DISCLAIMER: Read
"Doctor..."
"Do not stop pressing that button."
The smile that Rose rather thought was her sweetest turned into a scowl, even though the Doctor's feet likely couldn't care less how she was looking at them. "Well, I'm pressing," she said, not quite sounding snappish. "You said 'press this.' You said that--"
"Bad things will happen," the Doctor said again. Although this time, muffled though it was by whatever lived within the TARDIS' console, his voice was far too cheerful for that statement, Rose felt, and she scowled harder. "Suns will give up and die, planets will be forced to take their place, and small children will remain small."
"What?"
The feet wriggled. "Horrendous things."
Rose stuck her tongue out.
The feet ignored her entirely.
With a sigh, she shifted again. Sure, sitting on the button was more comfortable than holding it down had been -- horribly large and square thing that it was -- but it wasn't comfortable. Her feet dangled and her bum was turning tingly. And it didn't much help to think, "It isn't pointy," like the Doctor had recommended before disappearing once more beneath the console. A very, very, very long time ago.
But, she realized, maybe in this mood he'd be more likely to agree.
"Anyway, that wasn't what I was going to ask," she informed him archly.
A questioning, Hmm? floated up above the TARDIS' soft hum.
"I was just wondering..." Rose kicked her left foot up and watched the Doctor's left foot twitch. "Do you think..." She kicked her right. Yes, twitch. She grinned. "Could you make me something sonic?"
Clank.
"Ow!"
"Doctor?"
She nearly automatically slid off the console, but even if she did think he was having her on about the suns and the children and all, he'd said "bad things" before he went silly, so... She braced her hands on the edge and leaned forward as far as she dared. Before she could say anything, a groan came from underneath her, and it was loud enough that she stopped worrying. Mostly.
She put on the sweet smile again, just in case. "It wouldn't have to be anything big, really..." she said, cajoling.
The feet pulled in, and then the Doctor pushed out with hand to his forehead and a frown on his face.
"I'm going to have a lump," he muttered.
Rose felt her smile slip into a bit of a wince. "Well?" she asked.
"Yes, there's some sympathy, thanks for that," he said, rolling his eyes. He got to his feet, rubbing at the sore spot as he looked down at her. He wasn't frowning, not quite, but there was something in his eyes that she couldn't put a better name to than measuring. "I don't go around making everything sonic, Rose. It's not what I do."
Looking at the now-dark tool on the grating at his feet, she smirked. "Just screwdrivers, then?"
"Screwdriver," he said, dropping his hand so he could point it at her. "A screwdriver. It was necessary."
"Necessar--"
"At the time, yes!"
She let out the scoffing noise that called for.
Eyes narrowing, he crossed his arms over his chest. "It's a matter of practicality."
Rose narrowed her eyes right back at him.
His mouth tightened, and for a moment she thought he was going to say "no" and she'd never get to truly explain. But then he said slowly, in his "making facts clear to the human" tone, "If more things were sonic, they'd all be resonating much harder than normal, wouldn't they?"
She pouted. That sometimes worked. The Doctor only raised his eyebrows and looked at her, though.
"Fine, yes," she agreed. "So?"
"Everything resonates at its own pitch. It takes time to convince it to do otherwise."
Sometime in the last ten seconds, she'd lost control of this conversation. And she was a little afraid to ask, but, "Convince?"
His eyebrows went even higher. "Force is usually considered rude."
Rose laughed weakly.
"So you see," he said, and turned away to pick up his very sonic screwdriver and walk around to the opposite side of the console, flipping switches as he went.
"Wha--?"
Rose clamped her lips shut, before she started sputtering. Scowling again, she shifted forward enough to wedge a hand beneath her, and then slid off onto the floor to face him. His head came up, and she slammed her other hand down on the button, too.
"I'm pressing it," she said.
She thought she saw his mouth twitch, but then the lights started to pulse and the mechanism started to pump, and he ducked behind it before she could be sure. "Good," she heard as the TARDIS really got going.
"I only wanted something small, something simple," she called out over the noise. "Something for when screaming my throat raw isn't getting me out of whatever we've gotten into any faster."
The Doctor's head appeared around the other side. "A lockpick, you mean?"
"That'd be handy," she said, nodding her head vigorously.
His lips pursed. "Hmph." The TARDIS shuddered slightly, and he looked down and turned a knob one way, then the other.
With an impatient huff, she asked, "What's that mean?"
He started drumming his fingers on the console as the TARDIS came to rest. Rose counted to thirty. And again.
"Doctor..."
"Hm?" He looked up at her again. "Oh, means I can't think of anything safe enough."
"Safe enough?" She glared at him. "I'm not going to go around breaking into intergalactic banks or anything. I'd just rather not be locked in with things that think I'm a tasty appetizer."
He snorted. "Nothing's tried to eat you yet."
She lifted one hand long enough to stab it accusingly his direction. "Yet!"
That got her a pure Doctor grin, bright and wide, and she couldn't help smiling back, which only made him grin harder. Hopeless.
"I suppose if it were something...organic," he mused.
Rose snickered. "A sonic plant?" Then another thought hit, and she tried to go back to glaring. "Not a rose. I'd have no choice but to hurt you, then."
"Pfft. Tacky."
"Just a little," she agreed seriously, and then ruined it all by snickering again.
His grin faded as she could see him really start to think about the question of what would be acceptable. "Maybe something wood, though. Small," he said with a nod, "something that needs only a little push in the right direction to be helpful."
"It could always be, oh, here's a thought, a lockpick," she suggested.
"No, no, no." He dropped back down below the console and left her sighing at the empty space across from her. "Has to be-- Come on now, give it up like a--"
Whatever comparison he was going to make, the word dissolved into a series of grunting noises. She tried to get down, too, to see what in the world he was doing, but no matter how she twisted, her arms wouldn't stretch out to any longer than they were. Frustrated, she straightened again, and barely made out him saying, "Has to be something that no one thinks is helpful."
"Well, that explains any number of things," she muttered.
"Heard that."
She shook her head.
"Ahhh, yes! Just the thing!"
Rose nearly jumped back when the Doctor popped up right next to her, thrusting his hand toward her face.
"What is--" She stopped, and then, still leaning back as far as she could, peered at the thing in his hand. "Is that a-a chopstick?"
His grin this time could have powered the TARDIS on its own. "Yep!"
"Where's the other?" she asked.
He blinked her. "I'm not making you two."
"Won't it look odd, me wandering around with only the one? You need two to pick food up with."
"Really?" The Doctor looked down at it, realization coming over his face. "Huh. That does make more sense."
Rose frowned at him. "That's a joke. You're joking...right?"
There was a gleam in his eyes, so she shook her head again and warned, "One of these days..."
He shrugged, then cocked his head. "Why are you still pressing the button?"
##
Return to my Miscellaneous stories