donutsweeper (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
donutsweeper) wrote2009-01-14 12:07 am
donutsweeper) wrote2009-01-14 12:07 am
Entry tags:
Tossing and Turning
Title: Tossing and Turning
Pairing/Warning/Rating: Doctor Who fandom, none, rated PG
Word Count: 335
Beta:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
_medley_
Summary: The Doctor couldn't sleep.
Author's Note: Written forunfeathered with some help from karaokegal 's Song Lyric Prompt-a-Day-2008- Day 9
The Doctor couldn’t sleep. Not that he usually did sleep, but slipping into some sort of state of rest was something to do when the humans who traveled with him slept. Not tonight though. He’d lain down, shifted about to find a comfortable position, fluffed his pillow, got up, fetched a second pillow, fluffed that pillow and then lay back down. Not five minutes later he was up again. He changed pajamas, twice, got a drink of water, put away the second pillow, decided to move the lamp out of the corner and over next to the bed, but then changed his mind and left it in the middle of the room. He went and grabbed an extra blanket, then a glass of water, then decided if he was going to be up a snack would do nicely but once he got to the doorway, he stopped and went back for his slippers. After slipping them on he made it all the way into the hall before realizing the pajamas he’d finally kept on didn’t match and returned to his room to change back into his regular clothes.
This was stupid.
He sat down on the bed. In nine hundred years of phone box travel he’d had his share of companions and companionship, more than his share, and it had never been a problem before, why should it be any different now? Just go to the room and ask if there’s an interest. Ask? What was he, some sort of lovesick child begging for affection? No, just go in there and demand it as a right. A privilege even. You, me, the bed, now. Of course, because that was so terribly likely to work. Actually, considering everything, it probably would work, but that was besides the point; it shouldn’t, and he shouldn’t.
A knock on the door interrupted his musings.
“Doctor? Got a second?”
Ah, he should have known the decision would be taken out of his hands. The Doctor smiled. “Come on in, Jack.”
Pairing/Warning/Rating: Doctor Who fandom, none, rated PG
Word Count: 335
Beta:
_medley_ Summary: The Doctor couldn't sleep.
Author's Note: Written for
unfeathered with some help from karaokegal 's Song Lyric Prompt-a-Day-2008- Day 9The Doctor couldn’t sleep. Not that he usually did sleep, but slipping into some sort of state of rest was something to do when the humans who traveled with him slept. Not tonight though. He’d lain down, shifted about to find a comfortable position, fluffed his pillow, got up, fetched a second pillow, fluffed that pillow and then lay back down. Not five minutes later he was up again. He changed pajamas, twice, got a drink of water, put away the second pillow, decided to move the lamp out of the corner and over next to the bed, but then changed his mind and left it in the middle of the room. He went and grabbed an extra blanket, then a glass of water, then decided if he was going to be up a snack would do nicely but once he got to the doorway, he stopped and went back for his slippers. After slipping them on he made it all the way into the hall before realizing the pajamas he’d finally kept on didn’t match and returned to his room to change back into his regular clothes.
This was stupid.
He sat down on the bed. In nine hundred years of phone box travel he’d had his share of companions and companionship, more than his share, and it had never been a problem before, why should it be any different now? Just go to the room and ask if there’s an interest. Ask? What was he, some sort of lovesick child begging for affection? No, just go in there and demand it as a right. A privilege even. You, me, the bed, now. Of course, because that was so terribly likely to work. Actually, considering everything, it probably would work, but that was besides the point; it shouldn’t, and he shouldn’t.
A knock on the door interrupted his musings.
“Doctor? Got a second?”
Ah, he should have known the decision would be taken out of his hands. The Doctor smiled. “Come on in, Jack.”