One Photo At A Time

One Photo At A Time: actualdoctor: ”Beautiful!” The Doctor exclaimed, clapping his hands... 

actualdoctor:

little-creamsoda:

 She would’ve asked him what he meant, but… in this whole world of his, full of ambiguities, Scout was more eager to start asking other more serious questions. She rest an arm behind her head and ran her gaze along the clouds doing pirouettes to the music of the sun.

"Doctor?" she finally said. Her voice did not contain he credence and power it normally did, but she didn’t even notice. All she could focus on as she turned her head slightly to look at him, was his furrowed brows, deep in concentration. With gentle fingertips, she tugged slightly at his sleeve to bring him back to reality. There was a question coming to her lips, but she didn’t know exactly where to begin or how to say it, so all that managed to come out was a small “Thank you." 

 His permanent impression of a grin faded into something much softer at the gentleness of her voice, “No,” The Doctor began, “thank you." He touched the tip of her nose delicately, punctuating the you. Each word that tumbled gracelessly from his lips were injected with the utmost sincerity, coming easily and all at once in a way he didn’t think he could have managed. 

 Without Scout with him in this particular moment, who knew where he would have gone, or in what mental state he would be; and that thought petrified him. Though she didn’t know it, Scout had caught The Doctor at his absolute worst, for he had been alone for quite some time. An old friend of his once advised him to never travel alone, but she had not been there in the ways she said and on the days she claimed. 

 The TARDIS malfunctioning was no accident, in fact, it was quite the opposite. The Doctor wanted, well, he had hoped that space and time would claim him at last. Silly how things can change so fast. 

 Scout lifted herself up onto her elbows and rolled onto her side. “Now tell me,” she said, reaching for the cherry he had set aside for later. “What exactly is it that you do?” She ran her tongue along the sickeningly sweet surface of the small fruit and turned her eyes up to his playfully. Unintentional sexual innuendos found their way into a lot of things Scout said.

 A strand of hair overhanging from his forehead waved in the wind, so with the delicate touch of her hand, she swept it off to the side where it wouldn’t be a distraction. The features of his face were so easily admired that she wouldn’t have some pesky piece of his bangs obstructing her view.


One Photo At A Time: actualdoctor: ”Beautiful!” The Doctor exclaimed, clapping his hands... 

actualdoctor:

little-creamsoda:

actualdoctor:

little-creamsoda:

actualdoctor:

little-creamsoda:

 

 With an inexplicable amount of gravitational force, The Doctor found himself wanting to fall into her and seal the gap between the two of them. Immediately, he caught himself, thinking a lot better of it. Scout honestly wouldn’t want anything to do with a weedy, neurotic, 900-year-old alien; all he saw when he looked at her was endless potential, and if he had any sense at all he would have left her to her farm, where danger could would evade her. 

 ”So…uh, impressed yet?” The Doctor asked, knowing that the golden moment had undoubtedly just dissolved at his feet. He stepped out of the TARDIS, physically separating them, and began unlacing his trainers. “Field’s much better with your shoes off.” The Doctor said matter-of-factly whilst he attempted to balance on one foot. 

 He then chucked his shoes over Scout’s head, where they clanged violently from somewhere deep in the TARDIS. The Doctor visibly flinched, gritting his teeth together anxiously, and running his fingers over the frame of the door. “Sorry old girl.” he patted it once, then stepped out among the bed of unearthly wild flowers; each petal in different shades of shimmering metallics and glittering neons, the tail of the red blanket following closely behind him as it couldn’t wait to be embedded among them.

"I only wear shoes for special occasions," she mumbled offhandedly, her eyes still locked with the view as the Doctor began to move about. Her voice was smaller than it had been, as if her defense mechanism had completely crumbled under the flower’s blanket of serenity.

With their lunch in one hand and strawberry milkshake in the other, the two of them layed out the blanket only a few metres from the TARDIS so they could still hear the music from inside. Now she— no, it (The Doctor’s habits were catching on) was playing  ”Si Tu N’Etais Pas La” sung by Frehel, and Scout’s heart thumped in her chest like a beating drum.

"Gotta hand it to ya’, sweet cheeks. You sure know how to win a girl over." She laughed lightly and took the cherry out of the milk shake, laying down on her back and tossing the cherry itself somewhere out on the field. That wasn’t the interesting part. No, the interesting part was what she could do with the stem. It was like an impulse. The need to impress the cutest boy on the playground. Prove to him that she could climb higher, hit a baseball farther than any girl in school. Maybe that’s why she placed the stem into her mouth delicately and took it out in a knot no more that 30 seconds later.

 The Doctor’s eyes widened, “Amazing! How did you do that anyway?” he grabbed her face and opened her mouth, peering inside as if all the secrets were there. “You did that with your tongue?” He found himself rather intrigued by this little party trick of hers and was determined to do it on his own; granted he wasn’t exactly sure as to why she did it, or what exactly it proved, but humans were fascinating like that. 

 First, The Doctor plucked the cherry from his milkshake (which, by the way, was fantastic, even if he had originally wanted chocolate, but Scout insisted she knew best. Which, in the end, she had), and severed it from the stem. He took the actual fruit and set it aside, for maraschino cherries were far too great to toss away, and popped the stem in his mouth without a second thought. Within five and a half seconds he stuck out his tongue, the stem tied into a perfectly formed knot. 

 He chuckled and playfully knocked Scout on the shoulder, “Now that wasn’t so difficult, eh?” The stem rested in the palm of his hand, and for a moment The Doctor admired his newly discovered skill. “Say, what’s the point of tying it into a knot? If you think about it, it’s kind of a silly thing to do really.” It wasn’t that The Doctor didn’t like silly things, in fact he loved silly things, but silly things always had some sort of reasoning behind them. Didn’t they? Or maybe it was just another one of Scout’s fascinating quirks, which was just as good of a justification as anything else.   

 She watched him both in disbelief and enchantment. At parties, Scout was known for tying a cherry stem into a knot faster than anybody. Her entire life, she had a reputation for avoiding anything she knew she wouldn’t be the best at, because she didn’t want anyone to show her up. She was the best softball player on the team. In an agriculture class at school, she grew more produce than anyone else, and ate them proudly in class as if to show the other students her trophy. Her peers called her cocky, but say what they might, at least she had a right to be. Scout smirked in the face of life’s competition, crossed her arms at every challenge and said, “do your worst,” to anything that threatened to hurt her. Her entire life, she was perched high on her ego’s castle, and within 10 seconds, this tweed-wearing son of a bitch sent her crashing down. And the worst part?

 She liked it.

She wanted to know what else he was better at. How hard could he hit a baseball? How fast could he run the track? What was his average at underwater water breathing contests? How good was he at dancing? She craved to know the answer to all of these things, and suddenly the distance between their bodies seemed remarkably large. She wanted to close it with questions and answers. Truth or dare. Hugs and kisses, and then afterwards, a game of tug-a-war. How else could he make her tick?

 Her eyes roamed his body, not in a sexual way, but the way a gardener examined his neighbour’s yard. What are they doing better than my own? What am I doing better than them? There was a respect she held for him that was growing by the second, and it excited her in every way, the ends of her nerves tinging with electricity, like the parts of her she didn’t know existed were only just waking up. He was a brand new food that she was dying to taste.

"It means you’re a good kisser," she said with a small laugh, and then bit her bottom lip almost pointedly. “I always thought I was the best."

 A grin unleashed itself on The Doctor’s face, the duel sunshine suddenly feeling considerably warmer, “Well I could have told you that!” Scout didn’t know it, at least not yet, but The Doctor was no stranger to displays of affection; in fact, in some places he was actually known quite well for it, but perhaps that would be another story for another time.

 ”I would tell you to ask my father-in-law, but he’s no longer with us,” He took a sip of his strawberry milkshake, nostalgia washing over him like the frigid waters of an arctic tide. He supposed that, if there were a such thing as the “good ol’ days”, those days would be the ones. It was getting to the point where he was comfortably numb with the thought that everyone he loved would one day die, but not with the fact that he would always be there to see it. But somehow, just somehow, Scout was able to veil all of the grief and replace it with something far greater, something with an electrifying tangibility that made your heart want to exhaust itself and still sputter all the way to the finish line. Good thing he was equipped with two. 

 They always say, when seeking revenge, to dig two graves; and a long time ago he was under the supposition that time lords had two hearts for the same reason. One to live, and one to break. It was all very reasonable then, but what did you do when both hearts became fractured, ending in four barely recognisable shards that cut like glass whenever you tried to mend them? 

 The answer was simple; you fixed it anyway goddammit. Maybe Scout’s vocabulary was intertwining with his, but maybe, just maybe, he was been slowly being granted the adaptation he’d been begging false gods for. The ability to forgive and forget was sacred, guarded by kings and gods. But what’s a god to a king? 

 …but, more importantly, what’s a god to a nonbeliever? 

 She would’ve asked him what he meant, but… in this whole world of his, full of ambiguities, Scout was more eager to start asking other more serious questions. She rest an arm behind her head and ran her gaze along the clouds doing pirouettes to the music of the sun.

"Doctor?" she finally said. Her voice did not contain he credence and power it normally did, but she didn’t even notice. All she could focus on as she turned her head slightly to look at him, was his furrowed brows, deep in concentration. With gentle fingertips, she tugged slightly at his sleeve to bring him back to reality. There was a question coming to her lips, but she didn’t know exactly where to begin or how to say it, so all that managed to come out was a small "Thank you." 


One Photo At A Time: actualdoctor: ”Beautiful!” The Doctor exclaimed, clapping his hands... 

actualdoctor:

little-creamsoda:

actualdoctor:

little-creamsoda:

 

 With an inexplicable amount of gravitational force, The Doctor found himself wanting to fall into her and seal the gap between the two of them. Immediately, he caught himself, thinking a lot better of it. Scout honestly wouldn’t want anything to do with a weedy, neurotic, 900-year-old alien; all he saw when he looked at her was endless potential, and if he had any sense at all he would have left her to her farm, where danger could would evade her. 

 ”So…uh, impressed yet?” The Doctor asked, knowing that the golden moment had undoubtedly just dissolved at his feet. He stepped out of the TARDIS, physically separating them, and began unlacing his trainers. “Field’s much better with your shoes off.” The Doctor said matter-of-factly whilst he attempted to balance on one foot. 

 He then chucked his shoes over Scout’s head, where they clanged violently from somewhere deep in the TARDIS. The Doctor visibly flinched, gritting his teeth together anxiously, and running his fingers over the frame of the door. “Sorry old girl.” he patted it once, then stepped out among the bed of unearthly wild flowers; each petal in different shades of shimmering metallics and glittering neons, the tail of the red blanket following closely behind him as it couldn’t wait to be embedded among them.

"I only wear shoes for special occasions," she mumbled offhandedly, her eyes still locked with the view as the Doctor began to move about. Her voice was smaller than it had been, as if her defense mechanism had completely crumbled under the flower’s blanket of serenity.

With their lunch in one hand and strawberry milkshake in the other, the two of them layed out the blanket only a few metres from the TARDIS so they could still hear the music from inside. Now she— no, it (The Doctor’s habits were catching on) was playing  ”Si Tu N’Etais Pas La” sung by Frehel, and Scout’s heart thumped in her chest like a beating drum.

"Gotta hand it to ya’, sweet cheeks. You sure know how to win a girl over." She laughed lightly and took the cherry out of the milk shake, laying down on her back and tossing the cherry itself somewhere out on the field. That wasn’t the interesting part. No, the interesting part was what she could do with the stem. It was like an impulse. The need to impress the cutest boy on the playground. Prove to him that she could climb higher, hit a baseball farther than any girl in school. Maybe that’s why she placed the stem into her mouth delicately and took it out in a knot no more that 30 seconds later.

 The Doctor’s eyes widened, “Amazing! How did you do that anyway?” he grabbed her face and opened her mouth, peering inside as if all the secrets were there. “You did that with your tongue?” He found himself rather intrigued by this little party trick of hers and was determined to do it on his own; granted he wasn’t exactly sure as to why she did it, or what exactly it proved, but humans were fascinating like that. 

 First, The Doctor plucked the cherry from his milkshake (which, by the way, was fantastic, even if he had originally wanted chocolate, but Scout insisted she knew best. Which, in the end, she had), and severed it from the stem. He took the actual fruit and set it aside, for maraschino cherries were far too great to toss away, and popped the stem in his mouth without a second thought. Within five and a half seconds he stuck out his tongue, the stem tied into a perfectly formed knot. 

 He chuckled and playfully knocked Scout on the shoulder, “Now that wasn’t so difficult, eh?” The stem rested in the palm of his hand, and for a moment The Doctor admired his newly discovered skill. “Say, what’s the point of tying it into a knot? If you think about it, it’s kind of a silly thing to do really.” It wasn’t that The Doctor didn’t like silly things, in fact he loved silly things, but silly things always had some sort of reasoning behind them. Didn’t they? Or maybe it was just another one of Scout’s fascinating quirks, which was just as good of a justification as anything else.   

 She watched him both in disbelief and enchantment. At parties, Scout was known for tying a cherry stem into a knot faster than anybody. Her entire life, she had a reputation for avoiding anything she knew she wouldn’t be the best at, because she didn’t want anyone to show her up. She was the best softball player on the team. In an agriculture class at school, she grew more produce than anyone else, and ate them proudly in class as if to show the other students her trophy. Her peers called her cocky, but say what they might, at least she had a right to be. Scout smirked in the face of life’s competition, crossed her arms at every challenge and said, “do your worst,” to anything that threatened to hurt her. Her entire life, she was perched high on her ego’s castle, and within 10 seconds, this tweed-wearing son of a bitch sent her crashing down. And the worst part?

 She liked it.

She wanted to know what else he was better at. How hard could he hit a baseball? How fast could he run the track? What was his average at underwater water breathing contests? How good was he at dancing? She craved to know the answer to all of these things, and suddenly the distance between their bodies seemed remarkably large. She wanted to close it with questions and answers. Truth or dare. Hugs and kisses, and then afterwards, a game of tug-a-war. How else could he make her tick?

 Her eyes roamed his body, not in a sexual way, but the way a gardener examined his neighbour’s yard. What are they doing better than my own? What am I doing better than them? There was a respect she held for him that was growing by the second, and it excited her in every way, the ends of her nerves tinging with electricity, like the parts of her she didn’t know existed were only just waking up. He was a brand new food that she was dying to taste.

"It means you’re a good kisser," she said with a small laugh, and then bit her bottom lip almost pointedly. "I always thought I was the best."



One Photo At A Time: actualdoctor: ”Beautiful!” The Doctor exclaimed, clapping his hands... 

actualdoctor:

little-creamsoda:

 

 With an inexplicable amount of gravitational force, The Doctor found himself wanting to fall into her and seal the gap between the two of them. Immediately, he caught himself, thinking a lot better of it. Scout honestly wouldn’t want anything to do with a weedy, neurotic, 900-year-old alien; all he saw when he looked at her was endless potential, and if he had any sense at all he would have left her to her farm, where danger could would evade her. 

 ”So…uh, impressed yet?” The Doctor asked, knowing that the golden moment had undoubtedly just dissolved at his feet. He stepped out of the TARDIS, physically separating them, and began unlacing his trainers. “Field’s much better with your shoes off.” The Doctor said matter-of-factly whilst he attempted to balance on one foot. 

 He then chucked his shoes over Scout’s head, where they clanged violently from somewhere deep in the TARDIS. The Doctor visibly flinched, gritting his teeth together anxiously, and running his fingers over the frame of the door. “Sorry old girl.” he patted it once, then stepped out among the bed of unearthly wild flowers; each petal in different shades of shimmering metallics and glittering neons, the tail of the red blanket following closely behind him as it couldn’t wait to be embedded among them.

"I only wear shoes for special occasions," she mumbled offhandedly, her eyes still locked with the view as the Doctor began to move about. Her voice was smaller than it had been, as if her defense mechanism had completely crumbled under the flower’s blanket of serenity.

With their lunch in one hand and strawberry milkshake in the other, the two of them layed out the blanket only a few metres from the TARDIS so they could still hear the music from inside. Now she— no, it (The Doctor’s habits were catching on) was playing  ”Si Tu N’Etais Pas La” sung by Frehel, and Scout’s heart thumped in her chest like a beating drum.

"Gotta hand it to ya’, sweet cheeks. You sure know how to win a girl over." She laughed lightly and took the cherry out of the milk shake, laying down on her back and tossing the cherry itself somewhere out on the field. That wasn’t the interesting part. No, the interesting part was what she could do with the stem. It was like an impulse. The need to impress the cutest boy on the playground. Prove to him that she could climb higher, hit a baseball farther than any girl in school. Maybe that’s why she placed the stem into her mouth delicately and took it out in a knot no more that 30 seconds later.


One Photo At A Time: actualdoctor: ”Beautiful!” The Doctor exclaimed, clapping his hands... 

actualdoctor:

little-creamsoda:

actualdoctor:

little-creamsoda:

 She wanted to test him. Anywhere she wanted? The Northshore mountains. Some unnamed island off the coast of Australia. London in 1968. But for now…?

"In ‘N Out. I want a burger, fries, and a strawberry milkshake. And then I wanna find the biggest field of grass in the entire galaxy, and I wanna eat my lunch lying in the middle of it on a red blanket. And I wanna listen to some of those really class French songs from the 40s." She crossed her arms, as if to challenge him, and smirked, leaning her face up close to his. “Can you do that?"

 Both of The Doctor’s heartbeats hiccuped over each other at the sudden closeness of Scout’s face and daringness in her smile; he found that he almost couldn’t fight the rather peculiar urge to kiss the daringness right off of her face. But that was something of a secret that he had just discovered he was keeping. How long had it been there anyway? All of these recently discovered emotions had escaped him for so long that he was beginning to feel funny in their presence, almost as if he missed them. 

 “‘Can you do that?’” he mocked, a playful smile still escaping him as he turned away from her in one swift motion, the end of his nose nearly brushing against hers. The Doctor lunged at the console, immediately setting the course for California; and, just as he heard the familiar sound of the TARDIS firing up, he danced his way down one of the opposing hallways to retrieve a red blanket, and Scout’s music of choice.

 Just as he entered a room with mounds of somewhat categorised records, compact discs, and cassette tapes, he realised he was forgetting something terribly important. He ducked back into the heart of the ship, and looked at Scout from the top of her hair to the tip of her toes.

 ”Record player.” he said simply, and skipped back into the eclectic room of modern music.   

 A curious look crossed his face at their closeness; look that she had the urge to investigate, but before she could shoot some witty remark, he’d already skipped away, and the breath they shared was over all too quickly.

 The red blanket was accomplished fairly quickly, but she didn’t uncross her arms or take that look off her face. Scout was filled with the strange desire for him to both fail miserably and succeed miraculously, and she couldn’t tell just yet which she would prefer, but it seemed pretty obvious which was going to happen. So far, the Doctor had a way of making impossible things happen in fantastic ways.

 Nonetheless, she liked him. And she always challenged people that she liked, in anything, to learn how they handled being challenged by a blonde girl who stood 5’3. So far, he was handling it well. Extremely well, actually. Probably… the best.

 Within a few more minutes, music was heard throughout the machine, in addition to the beautiful hum of it’s engine. Edith Piaf’s “La Vie en Rose” filled the air, and Scout’s daring smile was replaced with one of genuine surprise and happiness.

 Even after the catastrophe that was a spaceship going through the drive-thru, Scout still held her ground, looking both amused and doubtful as ever. Just as The Doctor was beginning to think that he was loosing his touch, the thought of the perfect place to go assaulted his brain. There was a planet, just outside of the Milky Way’s boarders that was home to nothing but sprawling grassland and wildflowers. 

 However, it was abandoned, almost like and old garden left uninhabited, it’s beauty being wasted among the elements. “Are you ready, for possibly one of the most magnificent fields you will ever see in your lifetime?” The Doctor was now giddy with a childlike excitement, as he usually was, but more so considering he hadn’t been to this particular planet in quite some time. 

 The Doctor patted Scout on the head lightly, chuckling at her shortness, and set the course of their destination; all the while twiddling his fingers together in absent excitement. He hadn’t been this happy in ages, in fact, he didn’t think he’d ever been this happy in all of his life. 

 ”Careful, baby cakes. Too much buildup and I might end up bein’ disappointed at the result.” But she intensely doubted that would happen. So far, disappointment seemed like a word completely void of all meaning when in the Doctor’s presence. And it had only been 2 hours.

 He landed the TARDIS as if he just learned to fly it yesterday, but Scout managed to figure out that that was how it worked with him. From what she could tell, the Doctor was one of those people that learned things extremely quickly, became average at it, and never bothered to become better. A jack of all trades, master of none, one could say, but she wasn’t yet sure if that was true. He was master of something, if anything, keeping her entertained. And anyone who knew Scout well, knew that was a feat within itself.

 She opened the door and stepped barefooted onto grass damp with condensation, looked up, and saw possibly— no, definitely the most most beautiful thing she’d ever seen in her entire 24 years of living. A field of infinitely stretching green mixed with spots of red underneath a glowing reddish sky of two binary suns. The clouds could barely contain the precious life reaching towards them with beams of light that reminded her strikingly of actual arms lightyears away; arms that yearned to hold her, thank her for visiting, as if this is where she belonged. Scout always felt at home when among nature but this… nothing could parallel this. Light danced over her eyes, but she didn’t bother shielding her retinas for fear of losing sight of the moment.

 ”Doctor, I…” She was speechless. For the first time in her entire life, Scout Lee, Miss Clever, always with a comeback ready, could not find a way to make her vocal chords work. Wither her hand, she found the rough tweed of his jacket without so much as glancing over at him, and pulled him closer to her, so they were standing side by side, her fist grasping the cloth of his jacket, gazing outwards at the magnificence in front of them.

”’Nature rarer uses yellow,’” she quoted softly. “’…than another hue. Saves she all of that for sunsets, prodigal of blue.’”


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One Photo At A Time: actualdoctor: ”Beautiful!” The Doctor exclaimed, clapping his hands... 

actualdoctor:

little-creamsoda:

 She wanted to test him. Anywhere she wanted? The Northshore mountains. Some unnamed island off the coast of Australia. London in 1968. But for now…?

"In ‘N Out. I want a burger, fries, and a strawberry milkshake. And then I wanna find the biggest field of grass in the entire galaxy, and I wanna eat my lunch lying in the middle of it on a red blanket. And I wanna listen to some of those really class French songs from the 40s." She crossed her arms, as if to challenge him, and smirked, leaning her face up close to his. “Can you do that?"

 Both of The Doctor’s heartbeats hiccuped over each other at the sudden closeness of Scout’s face and daringness in her smile; he found that he almost couldn’t fight the rather peculiar urge to kiss the daringness right off of her face. But that was something of a secret that he had just discovered he was keeping. How long had it been there anyway? All of these recently discovered emotions had escaped him for so long that he was beginning to feel funny in their presence, almost as if he missed them. 

 “‘Can you do that?’” he mocked, a playful smile still escaping him as he turned away from her in one swift motion, the end of his nose nearly brushing against hers. The Doctor lunged at the console, immediately setting the course for California; and, just as he heard the familiar sound of the TARDIS firing up, he danced his way down one of the opposing hallways to retrieve a red blanket, and Scout’s music of choice.

 Just as he entered a room with mounds of somewhat categorised records, compact discs, and cassette tapes, he realised he was forgetting something terribly important. He ducked back into the heart of the ship, and looked at Scout from the top of her hair to the tip of her toes.

 ”Record player.” he said simply, and skipped back into the eclectic room of modern music.   

 A curious look crossed his face at their closeness; look that she had the urge to investigate, but before she could shoot some witty remark, he’d already skipped away, and the breath they shared was over all too quickly.

 The red blanket was accomplished fairly quickly, but she didn’t uncross her arms or take that look off her face. Scout was filled with the strange desire for him to both fail miserably and succeed miraculously, and she couldn’t tell just yet which she would prefer, but it seemed pretty obvious which was going to happen. So far, the Doctor had a way of making impossible things happen in fantastic ways.

 Nonetheless, she liked him. And she always challenged people that she liked, in anything, to learn how they handled being challenged by a blonde girl who stood 5’3. So far, he was handling it well. Extremely well, actually. Probably… the best.

 Within a few more minutes, music was heard throughout the machine, in addition to the beautiful hum of it’s engine. Edith Piaf’s “La Vie en Rose” filled the air, and Scout’s daring smile was replaced with one of genuine surprise and happiness.


One Photo At A Time: actualdoctor: ”Beautiful!” The Doctor exclaimed, clapping his hands... 

actualdoctor:

little-creamsoda:

actualdoctor:

actualdoctor:

”Beautiful!” The Doctor exclaimed, clapping his hands together and bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. He ran over to Scout and clutched her face, and, without thinking twice about it, he planted a kiss on her cheek. “Well done you humany wumany masterpiece!” The Doctor…

 The very second the inclination of her questions begin to form on her lips, The Doctor nearly leapt with joy, but refrained; well refrained for now. "Well," The Doctor began, sly smile still curling up with ease, “we can be gone for as long as you want, and still be back in time for tea." He began walking back to the main console, jumping agilely over the railing rather than taking the easy way down. The easy way was boring. 

 ”As for burgers, that can most definitely be arranged. I may have two hearts but not two stomachs, I’m afraid.” Chuckling at his own joke, he began to rev her up; her, of course, being the TARDIS. “And of course I’ll stop talking to her like she’s my…” It finally occurred to him of what exactly Scout was implying. “She’s not my girlfriend.” The Doctor insisted, saying the word “girlfriend” as if girls still had cooties, which was, in fact, quite plausible. 

 ”I don’t have girlfriends,” Something in The Doctor became quite hollow at the thought, “I was married once, but, it couldn’t work.” He dismissed the subject with a wave of his hand, putting on a cheerful smile once again, not wanting to talk about how the story ended. The Doctor always hated endings.  

 She already didn’t like it when he did that, and it had already happened three times. That casual mention of something in his past, and then a smooth dismissal to a happier note. She wanted to unravel him. She wanted to know the inner bits of his misty consciousness, and figure out why he didn’t have girlfriends, what happened with that wife of his, where the stress wrinkles on his forehead sprouted from. Maybe that’s why she took the extra step forward, punctuating a chapter of her past life. Because the second she stepped foot into the realm of that corn-destroying British bastard, Scout wouldn’t look at Earth the same again. Of course, she didn’t know that. Yet.

 ”That’s too bad, ‘cause there are a lotta girls nowadays that really dig adventurous guys. Maybe we should put out a craigslist add.” She looked around with raised eyebrows, as if she were trying to smother her curiosity in a look of boredom. “So where to first, cap’n?”

 Pushing the old memories and past lives to the back of his mind, he only saw Scout, with her tanned skin and summer-bleached hair. There was something in her eyes that made him want to trust her, just seeing her brilliant, impenetrable smile make him want to spill the contents of his heart out onto the floor and weep. Everything was beginning to bubble to the surface at a dangerously fast pace, making The Doctor feel abnormally scared and vulnerable. The most important thing he could focus on was making sure that Scout didn’t notice, because if she inquired, he was afraid of what he might say. 

 ”Anywhere you want! Use your imagination, I know you’ve got one of those.” The Doctor tapped the side of her temple playfully and knelt down ever so slightly so that his eyes were level with hers, he was curious as to what she would say. “We’ve got all of time and space. Places you’ve never been and moments you’ll never get a chance to live.” 

 The Doctor straightened the lapels of his blazer, “Your wish is my command.” 

 She wanted to test him. Anywhere she wanted? The Northshore mountains. Some unnamed island off the coast of Australia. London in 1968. But for now…?

"In ‘N Out. I want a burger, fries, and a strawberry milkshake. And then I wanna find the biggest field of grass in the entire galaxy, and I wanna eat my lunch lying in the middle of it on a red blanket. And I wanna listen to some of those really class French songs from the 40s." She crossed her arms, as if to challenge him, and smirked, leaning her face up close to his. "Can you do that?"


One Photo At A Time: actualdoctor: ”Beautiful!” The Doctor exclaimed, clapping his hands... 

actualdoctor:

actualdoctor:

”Beautiful!” The Doctor exclaimed, clapping his hands together and bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. He ran over to Scout and clutched her face, and, without thinking twice about it, he planted a kiss on her cheek. “Well done you humany wumany masterpiece!” The Doctor…

 The very second the inclination of her questions begin to form on her lips, The Doctor nearly leapt with joy, but refrained; well refrained for now. "Well," The Doctor began, sly smile still curling up with ease, “we can be gone for as long as you want, and still be back in time for tea." He began walking back to the main console, jumping agilely over the railing rather than taking the easy way down. The easy way was boring. 

 ”As for burgers, that can most definitely be arranged. I may have two hearts but not two stomachs, I’m afraid.” Chuckling at his own joke, he began to rev her up; her, of course, being the TARDIS. “And of course I’ll stop talking to her like she’s my…” It finally occurred to him of what exactly Scout was implying. “She’s not my girlfriend.” The Doctor insisted, saying the word “girlfriend” as if girls still had cooties, which was, in fact, quite plausible. 

 ”I don’t have girlfriends,” Something in The Doctor became quite hollow at the thought, “I was married once, but, it couldn’t work.” He dismissed the subject with a wave of his hand, putting on a cheerful smile once again, not wanting to talk about how the story ended. The Doctor always hated endings.  

 She already didn’t like it when he did that, and it had already happened three times. That casual mention of something in his past, and then a smooth dismissal to a happier note. She wanted to unravel him. She wanted to know the inner bits of his misty consciousness, and figure out why he didn’t have girlfriends, what happened with that wife of his, where the stress wrinkles on his forehead sprouted from. Maybe that’s why she took the extra step forward, punctuating a chapter of her past life. Because the second she stepped foot into the realm of that corn-destroying British bastard, Scout wouldn’t look at Earth the same again. Of course, she didn’t know that. Yet.

 ”That’s too bad, ‘cause there are a lotta girls nowadays that really dig adventurous guys. Maybe we should put out a craigslist add.” She looked around with raised eyebrows, as if she were trying to smother her curiosity in a look of boredom. “So where to first, cap’n?”