No Time for TV
Author: Lilac Summers
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Ten/Donna, TARDIS
Rating: M, naughtiness more than a bit implied
Category: Humor verging on crack, PWP
It had been two weeks of blushing for no apparent reason, of skittering away from each other every time the TARDIS bumped them around (which was very, very often). Fourteen days of Donna ignoring his outstretched hand when he reached for hers, and of stammering goodnights when Donna headed to bed.
But finally things were settling back down, under the pretense that the TARDIS must have been playing some colossal joke. Donna had argued loudly and strenuously over and over that that's all the soundtrack of the Doctor and Donna having loud, crazy, (satisfying) sex could have possibly been.
When the Doctor queried (quite reasonably, he thought) why the TARDIS would go to such lengths to manufacture a fake recording in order to embarrass them, Donna had happily launched into a numeration of his many faults: He was messy. He was constantly whacking his poor ship for no apparent reason. He ate jam with his fingers and never shut the hell up. After she went into such minutiae as "you leave lint in the drier, and haven't set out a welcome mat to keep people from tracking dirt all over the floor", the Doctor agreed with her just to end the argument.
Her point was that he must have driven the TARDIS absolutely barmy by now. And if the TARDIS played a little joke on him that happened to also embarrass the hell out of Donna, well, she was willing to forgive in the face of sisterly solidarity. So there.
Regardless, the TARDIS was staying mum on the matter, continuing her path through the universe as though that little aural incident hadn't thrown her passengers into a tizzy.
But who knew, maybe there was something to Donna's theory. Because in what seemed an apology, when Donna had commented that she was in the mood for a film, the TARDIS had supplied them with a never-before seen media room containing a huge flat-screened television set in a cozy room with dim lighting and a deep, sinfully comfortable couch upholstered in posh purple velvet.
The Doctor was looking forward to it. An evening with a film and his best mate, no more embarrassed tension between them, the strange event with the TARDIS' speakers finally behind them, never to be spoken of again.
And so they settled on the couch, Donna bringing a huge bowl of popcorn with her. She sat on one end, taking no time in resting her feet on his lap, as was her wont, and he inwardly beamed at display of carefree affection.
"What're we watching?" asked Donna around a mouthful of popcorn. The Doctor studied the complicated remote control to the huge new television, with its myriad tiny buttons, over the rim of his specs.
"Not sure yet, what are you in the mood for? Horror? I think we've got the 125th Friday the 13th on here. Or...How to Train Your Pet Slitheen? Children's movie, that. Or a classic masterpiece, like Showgirls?"
"Meh, surprise me."
"Ooooh, here's a good one. Pride and Prejudice..."
"Ah, always loved that one! The BBC production or the--"
"Wait. Pride and Prejudice in Space did you say? How is that even possible. Doesn't that defeat the purpose of a period film?"
"Weeeell, it's the 78th remake, taking place on the space colony that formed New New Great Britain. For people from the 34th century, that's pretty old-school," he reasoned.
"Okay, fine, whatever. Just play it already and stop jabbering before you ruin the plot."
"Ruin the plot?! How can I ruin the plot of a book you've read a million times, just because they're on the space colony of New New Great Britain and, okay, well, Lizzy is not technically hum--"
"SHHHH!" commanded Donna, fishing out the un-popped kernels from her bowl of popcorn and hurling them at his forehead like tiny missles. "DON'T RUIN IT!"
"All right! All right!" cried the Doctor, dodging airborne maize. In self-defense, he quickly tapped the 'play' button. Donna quit her attack and smugly settled into her corner, colorful pedicured toes wriggling victoriously on the Doctor's lap as the lights automatically dimmed in the room and the screen winked into life.
Straight into a close up of man's bare bum, muscles clenching delightfully as he pumped enthusiastically into the woman beneath him.
"Woah!" cried Donna, sitting upright in shock and sending popcorn flying. "Holy porn parade, Batman! Did you press the wrong button on the remote? You better have, Martian, because if you think I'm going to watch some perverted alien movie--"
"No, no," said the Doctor, peering closer at the scrolling readout on the remote. "Says right here, it's playing Pride and Prejudice in Space. Mind, I don't remember there being a love scene, but it has been several decades since I last saw it."
"'Love scene' you say? That ain't a love scene, that's straight-out x-rated shagging."
"Oh Donna," sighed Doctor, indulgent, in that 'ooh, aren't you 21st century humans precious' tone of voice she hated. "This was filmed in the year 3368. Their definition of risque differs quite a bit from yours."
Donna forced herself to relax back in her seat. If he was going to be so blase about it, she'd be damned at acting like a cringing prude. "Just saying -- they barely held hands in the book..."
"And by the time they made the movies, they had the characters end with a kiss. Consider this the 34th century equivalent of a kiss."
"If you say so."
"I do. 'Course," muttered the Doctor, brow crinkling in thought, "why the movie would start with a love scene, I don't really understand. I don't remember this part at all."
"Uh-huh," mumbled Donna, distracted now by the naked buttocks on the screen. It was a rather fabulous backside, she admitted, and the stamina! She idly wished the camera would pan out, so she could see the rest of the man. With perfect timing, the camera pulled back. Oh, the rest of the back of him wasn't bad either! Nice broad shoulders tapering down to a trim waist. "Way to go, Darcy!" encouraged Donna.
The Doctor reached over, snagged a handful of popcorn and stuffed it in his mouth. It niggled at him that he couldn't remember this at all. "You think it's Darcy?" The actor was slim and athletic, with great hair, the Doctor noted absently.
"Gonna assume," responded Donna. "Is that supposed to be Lizzy under him?"
"I honestly don't know," he murmured, just as the actress raised long, pale legs to wrap around Darcy's waist.
"Oh look!" cried Donna, delighted. "She has the same toe nail polish as me! Never let it be said I'm not fashion-forward!" she crowed, very pleased with herself. And Nerys had said no one in their right mind would wear that shade of orange...Well, if only she knew that it would be the height of fashion in the 34th century, wouldn't that put her in her place! Donna grabbed another handful of popcorn, triumphant.
The Doctor scrutinized the narrow coral-tipped feet on screen, then slowly looked down at Donna's feet on his lap. And warily looked back on screen. Then at the ones on his lap. And then he took a closer look at the actor's wild hair.
He suddenly had a really, really bad feeling about this.
"Only," Donna was saying, "I don't think the sound's on. And how long is this scene, anyway?"
"Uh..." the Doctor hemmed, his hearts thudding in his ears as he scanned the remote settings once more. Pride and Prejudice in Space scrolled the display clearly.
Up on the screen, the camera began to zoom out and swivel perspective.
"Hey, turn it up, will you?"
The camera was traveling around the couple, slowly, ever so slowly...and the Doctor spied a dainty female hand fiercely clutching at the man's straining bicep, before the camera continued leisurely to pan sideways, revealing a feminine forearm, dusted with cinnamon freckles...
"Doctor did you hear me? Turn it up, yeah?"
"Errr...I'm trying," the Doctor lied, dragging his attention back to the enormous, complicated remote in his hand and searching furiously for a STOP button. "I think the film is faulty, Donna," he squeaked, voice very loud and high to his ears. "It's better if we just choose another."
Ah ha! There it was! He stabbed the STOP button viciously.
The sound boomed on.
Heavy breathing and stifled groans assaulted their ears.
"Oh, not so loud!"
The Doctor stared at the control, furiously pounding the STOP button again. The sound turned down to manageable levels.
"Thanks, that's perfect."
He turned very cautiously to stare at Donna, who stuffed another handful of popcorn in her mouth and continued to watch the screen intently. "Huh, the actress is very freckly," she remarked. "Good to know they aren't shunned in the future!"
He tore his gaze away from her, eyes almost unwillingly drawn back to the screen. The camera was lovingly traveling over the female actress' body now, at an artsy angle. The length of an upraised thigh, wrapped around the actor's flank, both gleaming with sweat. Then to the jut of hipbone dissolving into the gentle curve of abdomen. Finally inching up to stunning breasts with a coy flash of dusky nipples, playing peek-a-boo with a long strand of flaming red hair.
The Doctor closed his eyes, swallowing thickly. With little hope, he pointed the remote at the screen and pressed the big red OFF button. Nothing happened, of course.
The heavy breathing onscreen continued, joined now by fluttery "ah's" and urgent vocalizations that sounded distressingly familiar. Donna had gone ominously quiet beside him, the sound of crunching popcorn completely absent.
"Doctor," she called quietly.
"That's me, isn't it."
He cleared his throat, noisily. "Yes, I believe it is."
He slit one eye open and, on cue, the camera settled in its journey, perfectly framing Donna with her head thrown back, hair spread like a halo around the pillow and her shoulders, and himself, bending forward to bury his face at her throat.
The Donna beside him radiated waves of embarrassed fury. "Turn it off," she commanded through gritted teeth.
"Can't, already tried," he whispered, wordlessly holding out the gargantuan remote to her, refusing to look over.
She snatched it from his hand, then came the sound of those 100-words-per-minute fingers jabbing every conceivable button configuration in record time.
The screen and sound stayed on, but she somehow managed to add a sexy R&B soundtrack to the movie, light heretofore unseen candles, and convert the couch into a bed.
She squawked as the sofa shifted beneath her, jumping to her feet, eyes wide as she noticed the changes to the room. The Doctor had simply lifted his feet from the floor when the couch shifted, and was now studiously staring off into a corner, trying mightily to ignore what onscreen!Donna was doing to onscreen!Doctor.
Maybe if he didn't say anything, she wouldn't kill him.
"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!" she screamed at him.
"Don't know," he fibbed, because he had a pretty good idea that the TARDIS had run out of patience with the both of them. "Ask the TARDIS," he suggested, happily willing to place blame where it was due.
"I can't believe you!" she shouted at the ceiling. "The fake recording was bad enough, but this has gone too far! I don't care that it's April fools somewhere in the universe today, you need a hobby! I mean, him I understand, but what'd I ever do to you?! You should be ashamed of yourself, missy, spending your time making up fake videos!" she ranted, shaking her fist at the TARDIS.
"It's not a--" began the Doctor, before remembering his life was in imminent danger and snapping his mouth shut.
"Not a what?" Donna rounded on him, magnificent in her fury.
"N--nothing. Forget it."
"Not. A. What. Martian?"
Well, in for a penny... "Not a fake video."
"Of course it is," she said flatly.
He risked a quick glance her way. "Um, but it isn't. Neither was the sound recording. The TARDIS can replicate, but she can't invent. Tried to tell you before."
"We agreed the sound recording was a joke!" she seethed.
"You agreed..." he mumbled sulkily.
"You can't be insinuating that that--" she flung an arm out to the television, and on cue the volume turned up so that joint moaning filled the room. Drawn by the sound, they both turned to look at the screen.
And turned their heads slightly sideways to try to resolve what it was that they were seeing quite so close up.
The image clicked in the Doctor's brain and he made a tiny choked sound as his respiratory bypass kicked in. Donna was making worrying gasping noises, without the benefit of a bypass to supply oxygen since the shock had stopped her breathing.
"Don't look!" she hissed at the Doctor with the little breath she had.
"But I...can't look...away," he admitted to her, dazed as he watched the show and onscreen!Donna's superb jaw muscle control.
Neither could Donna, truthfully, because she had never really thought about how many useful applications that long tongue of his had, and how handy that respiratory bypass could be.
"Then close your damn ey--" she trailed off, sidetracked as onscreen!Doctor performed a tongue maneuver that would have better served to tie cherry stems into knots.
And somehow, before they knew it, they were sitting side-by-side, eyes glued to the acrobatic shenanigans onscreen.
The Doctor was breathing deeply through his nose, and flushed red from throat to hairline. Donna squirmed uneasily at his side, undoing the top buttons of her blouse as her temperature skyrocketed.
"You're very...very...bendy," he told her, faintly.
"Yoga," she responded, weakly. "You're, uh, er...energetic." Insatiable was the word she was looking for.
"Running. Two-hearts," he breathed out.
They cast each other a furtive side-glance.
Then as one they attacked, snogging each other senseless until they were splayed out over the couch-turned-bed in a rumpled heap of half-undone clothing, his hand sliding past her jeans and into her knickers, hers gripping the bum she'd been watching onscreen all evening (and wiggling under the floor panels, and running in front of her, and bending over the consoles...for months now.)
"So...what is...that video...if not a...joke?" she panted, tongue tracing his jugular.
"Ahhhhhh.....it's a...it's a...visual mne---mne---mnemonic project..oh..projection," he gasped, writhing against her before sliding down enough to pay proper tribute to her breasts with his mouth.
"It's...already...oh god do that again, yes, that thing!...it's already happened?"
The Doctor released her nipple from his mouth long enough to gather a breath. "In the future, yes." He returned to laving the tight peak, enraptured. He'd been imagining doing this since he first spied that dusky nipple on the tv. Welllll, since long before then, to be honest...starting sometime when a certain redhead appeared in his TARDIS in a low-cut wedding gown.
Donna's hands were fumbling at his trousers, pushing them down his hips and taking hold of him in an impressive display of multi-tasking. His moan went up a few octaves.
"So if we...holy fucking christ, Doctor!" She pulsed, hot and slick, around his fingers, internal muscles squeezing hard. "If we don't...do this...we cause...ah!...a paradox?"
He was pulling his hand out of her knickers to tear her clothing off altogether. "Absolutely. Worlds exploding. Universes ending."
She returned the favor, pantsing him and pushing him down on his back. Then she clambered over him to settle into the position that they had just had the pleasure of seeing demonstrated. "We're just saving the world, then," she reasoned, and took him in her mouth in one go.
"By Rassilon's garters! Oh...oh Donna....yes..." he cried, reaching up to wrap his arms around the smooth thighs by his head. "The... the whole universe, really!" he gasped. And he pulled her down to his waiting tongue.
Several heat-filled minutes later, Donna was coming up for air. "But...but...I don't think we're in this room...in the v-video," she pointed out.
The Doctor hummed in thought beneath her, making Donna shriek as the vibrations played over very sensitive parts. She bit his thigh in retaliation.
Bucking against her, the Doctor tore his mouth away long enough to reason. "Guess we'll...have to...have to...keep trying until we get it exactly right." His eyes rolled back as Donna did something particularly creative with her mouth. "Y- y'know ... for ... the ... nnngh! ... universe!"
"For...th'universe!" managed Donna, before the Doctor reapplied himself and the judicious use of his tongue reduced her to little more than panting once more. And she went back to the strenuous task of being a hero. Because someone had to do it.
So the universe was saved once again.
Or the TARDIS gained a hobby.
One or the other. Maybe both.
What am I doing with my life?!