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ficlet: newskool Who, Kittens! (parte the first), G
Look. They aren't mine. At all. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
palmetto is really about the only person who'll get this. I don't mind. There are major spoilers for Journey's End behind the cut. And no I haven't seen it. (I have no newskool icons, and Romana isn't in this)
Warning for pairings referenced: Rose/Doc, Rose/Sparky, Babs/Ian, Donna/Doc... sorta.
She's older than he remembers, of course (all of them are, and he thinks sometimes his memory must be going before the part of him that isn't him pokes him about his memories being just copies of memories--or something like that. It all gets so complicated in his head he usually just sticks with, sometimes, he thinks his memory must be going), and happier (again with the memory thing, but humans need and love settling down in their own ways, and this would have made her happy with or without him).
"May I help you?"
So polite, always the teacher in the end (professor of mathematics and chemistry, married to an English professor who wasn't so distinguished--he looked them up and laughed, sometimes), and he has to smile. It's that beaming one, the one that makes Jake roll his eyes and Rose soften round the edges like it's a memory of hers he's bringing back. "Uh, yes, hi. I was wondering if you'd like a kitten."
"A kitten?" Now she looks almost confused.
"Barbara, who's at the door?" His voice is almost querulous, and a man, stooped and less agile than he once was appears behind her in the doorway.
"Ah, Mr. Chesterton. Ms. Wright--"
"Look, who are you?"
That was the question, once upon a time. Always the question, in a way. He tries for that grin he used to have and it falls short, "I have these kittens and I'm trying to give them to good homes. One would be no trouble, really--"
Barbara crosses her arms and gives him a look that had to've scared millions of students into line during her tenure. "Explain yourself, please."
"Kittens." Some part of him kicks another part, and out pops, "My grandfather once took a class of yours, he still talks about you sometimes, and I thought I'd repay his memories of you by bringing you kittens."
"What a preposterous story," mutters Ian from behind Barbara, but he leans over her shoulder to peer into the box. "That little black one is eying you, Barbara."
"Perhaps if you wouldn't dangle your pince-nez at him, Ian," she retorts, still able to shoulder him back from his position. As though she's had to keep him from running off on adventures without her for years. Or perhaps, she's been the one leading, but Ian was always putting his fingers where he shouldn't.
"You can have him, if you like."
Barbara looks at him again, then gives a twist of her shoulders and reaches into the box, scooping the black kitten up. A rumbly purr starts before she has him tucked against her shoulder and she looks vaguely startled. "Thank you. I think."
"You're welcome." Smiling, he backs and nearly trips over the low step. "I'll be going now. Others to catch, kittens to deliver." He thinks he should have a hat, something cheerful and striped that he could doff. Perhaps he'd call 'tootle-pip' and 'what-ho' as he danced away down the street. If he dances, something he thinks he might do, on the off occasion.
Rose might object, of course. She objects to lots of things he does, though she stands most in good humor.
Tucking the kitten-filled box under his arm again, he starts towards his next destination, whistling off-key. The tune takes a while to surface an origin and when it does, he stops.
After all, no one needed to hear the Dirge of Rassilon on such a lovely day.
palmetto is really about the only person who'll get this. I don't mind. There are major spoilers for Journey's End behind the cut. And no I haven't seen it. (I have no newskool icons, and Romana isn't in this)Warning for pairings referenced: Rose/Doc, Rose/Sparky, Babs/Ian, Donna/Doc... sorta.
She's older than he remembers, of course (all of them are, and he thinks sometimes his memory must be going before the part of him that isn't him pokes him about his memories being just copies of memories--or something like that. It all gets so complicated in his head he usually just sticks with, sometimes, he thinks his memory must be going), and happier (again with the memory thing, but humans need and love settling down in their own ways, and this would have made her happy with or without him).
"May I help you?"
So polite, always the teacher in the end (professor of mathematics and chemistry, married to an English professor who wasn't so distinguished--he looked them up and laughed, sometimes), and he has to smile. It's that beaming one, the one that makes Jake roll his eyes and Rose soften round the edges like it's a memory of hers he's bringing back. "Uh, yes, hi. I was wondering if you'd like a kitten."
"A kitten?" Now she looks almost confused.
"Barbara, who's at the door?" His voice is almost querulous, and a man, stooped and less agile than he once was appears behind her in the doorway.
"Ah, Mr. Chesterton. Ms. Wright--"
"Look, who are you?"
That was the question, once upon a time. Always the question, in a way. He tries for that grin he used to have and it falls short, "I have these kittens and I'm trying to give them to good homes. One would be no trouble, really--"
Barbara crosses her arms and gives him a look that had to've scared millions of students into line during her tenure. "Explain yourself, please."
"Kittens." Some part of him kicks another part, and out pops, "My grandfather once took a class of yours, he still talks about you sometimes, and I thought I'd repay his memories of you by bringing you kittens."
"What a preposterous story," mutters Ian from behind Barbara, but he leans over her shoulder to peer into the box. "That little black one is eying you, Barbara."
"Perhaps if you wouldn't dangle your pince-nez at him, Ian," she retorts, still able to shoulder him back from his position. As though she's had to keep him from running off on adventures without her for years. Or perhaps, she's been the one leading, but Ian was always putting his fingers where he shouldn't.
"You can have him, if you like."
Barbara looks at him again, then gives a twist of her shoulders and reaches into the box, scooping the black kitten up. A rumbly purr starts before she has him tucked against her shoulder and she looks vaguely startled. "Thank you. I think."
"You're welcome." Smiling, he backs and nearly trips over the low step. "I'll be going now. Others to catch, kittens to deliver." He thinks he should have a hat, something cheerful and striped that he could doff. Perhaps he'd call 'tootle-pip' and 'what-ho' as he danced away down the street. If he dances, something he thinks he might do, on the off occasion.
Rose might object, of course. She objects to lots of things he does, though she stands most in good humor.
Tucking the kitten-filled box under his arm again, he starts towards his next destination, whistling off-key. The tune takes a while to surface an origin and when it does, he stops.
After all, no one needed to hear the Dirge of Rassilon on such a lovely day.
horoscoop 2007
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