his_sarah_jane: (aliens are your friends)
109. He isn't stupid, his brain is full. - Overheard in NY.com (random)

“He isn’t stupid,” Sarah Jane explained with a sigh, hand placed on her forehead for a brief second. Did it really come down to this? This rather weak explanation to the most current events? “He’s just… well, his brain is full.”


“His brain,” she repeated slowly, enunciating each word quickly in case the drone did not understand, “is simply very, very full.”

The creature buzzed in front of her and its antennas flickered in the direction of her companion. Another sigh escaped her as she turned to give the Doctor a look, hand on hips. He hadn’t moved from the boulder he had sat himself upon fifteen minutes earlier. The end of his scarf collapsed and stretched in his hands. The folds he made varied in position and duration as a small beetle-like creature watched on a nearby bolder.

Sarah turned back to look at the drone, placing her hands on her hips. While she would not quite describe its expression as sympathetic, if it had been more humanoid in shape, Sarah was certain that would be the case.

“You see,” she said a moment later. “The Doctor is a Timelord. Now, I don’t know if you’ve heard of these things, but Timelords – and ladies, to be proper – are individuals whose brains are very, very full with… oh! With stuff, I suppose. A whole lot of stuff, really. All of time and space and eternity. If you asked him, he’d give you a much more arrogant and complex answer, but I’m telling you... Bzzzzinzzzztrzzzzzzzzzzbzzzz—“

She could never quite properly pronounce its name.

“—that this is all it is. Not stupidity. Oh no. He may be a daft git at times, but he is far from stupid I assure you.” Sarah ran a hand through her hair. “It’s just… he thinks he can talk to it – him – whatever it is! That bug over there. He really, honestly thinks that—”


“No.” Even if, she had to admit, communicating via scarf did seem quite ridiculous. “Just… quite full of himself. Quite full of misplaced knowledge and barmy ideas and—”

“Zzzzzzzzztuuuuuupeeeeeed.” The drone bounced up and down in a ghostly like manner. It almost seemed as if it were laughing. Its antennas flickered in the Doctor’s direction again and then back to Sarah. “Zzzzzzzzztuuuuuupeeeeeed!”

What was it people said about fighting an uphill battle? As much as Sarah Jane wanted to argue (it was in her nature, of course), Bzzzzinzzzztrzzzzzzzzzzbzzzz did have a point. Rather this was some forgotten language lost to the stars and only known amongst Timelords or not, the whole matter did seem rather…well, stupid.

Communication by scarf? Honestly?

She sighed, giving in with a chuckle. “Oh, alright. It’s stupid. Absolutely bloody ridiculous. But, well, that’s the Doctor for you.”

his_sarah_jane: (excuse me?)
95. sapid: having flavor, especially a strong pleasant flavor. (words)

She hadn’t expected this. She hadn’t expected this at all.

He had stuck his hand over her mouth to silence her. If you asked Sarah Jane Smith, the Talynians were quite backwards. Treating their women like second class citizens despite being in the fifty-first century of societal existence was absolutely not appropriate. Someone had to speak for those who couldn’t. And when she and the Doctor had been invited to meet the Talynian Emperor, Finyargo the Third, no force in the universe, not even the Doctor himself, could stop Sarah from speaking her mind.

So he had stuck his hand over her mouth to silence her. And, in order to get him to remove it without making herself out to be too much of a fool in front of the royal idiot himself, she had stuck her tongue out to tickle his palm.

But she hadn’t expected this. She hadn’t expected his skin to have such a sapid quality, such a… Sarah Jane actually found herself at a loss of words in trying to describe the taste. It was like nothing she had ever tasted before. It was almost as if no other taste could compare.

She debated questioning him later. They were alone on the TARDIS, their visit to Talyn II having gone completely awry after Sarah had decently riled up the First Consort to the Emperor and her sister-wives. The women’s liberation movement had been set into full swing and all Sarah Jane received for her efforts were scolding after scolding from the Doctor.

Quickly, Sarah grew weary with it. The Doctor’s arrogant Timelordian rambles weren’t anything new to her, especially in this incarnation. But she had other thoughts on her mind at the moment. Surprisingly, they had nothing to do with the uprising she had inadvertently caused. No. These thoughts were all about the Doctor and the wonderful flavour his skin possessed.

It made her wonder if he tasted like that everywhere. Was it just his palm? Had he perhaps slipped his hand into something that created such a taste? Did his mouth taste sweeter? And what about…

He had noticed. The atmosphere in the TARDIS console room had suddenly turned overbearingly quiet. In fact, if Sarah concentrated hard enough, she could have sworn there was a hint of jealousy floating about. Jealousy? Over what? That inquiry was dismissed when she realized that he was staring again. Staring and contemplating and if Sarah didn’t know for a fact that the Doctor didn’t read minds, she would almost swear that he was doing thus right now.

In the span of a heartbeat, the silence and the thirst for answers became too much. She took three broad steps across the room, placed a hand one of his shoulders and used the other to pull his head down into a kiss. Sarah flicked her tongue out at his lips, seeking entrance, wanting to know if the taste was the same. At first the Doctor was stiff. Then, there was a miraculous parting of his lips and she discovered that the inside of his mouth was just as sapid as his palm.

The stiffness returned and she backed away quickly. Confusion and curiosity (and jealousy) floated about the room. He fiddled with his scarf, picking at the end fringes as if unraveling them. She shrugged, tried to grin, but Sarah Jane was certain she looked absolutely awkward as she tried to explain.

“You tasted… well, oh, you remember that lick? In the throne room? You tasted… what was that?”

He answered with something mumbled. The Doctor moved a hand to his head, scratching at his hair. She picked up words like biology and pheromones and sensitivities and erogenous and Gallifreyan and time and mating. In the end, Sarah concluded that his… his taste had something to do with a vestigial monthly reproductive cycle, rather like her period (as she blurted aloud, much to both of their further embarrassment).

It was a scent she couldn’t smell, yet it was a taste she could most certainly taste.

“I wanted to know,” Sarah continued after more silence passed. Apparently (some corner of her brain noted), talking about Gallifreyan mating rituals was an effective way to get the Doctor away from lectures. “Well, I wanted to know if you… oh, if you tasted like that in other areas.”

The Doctor sputtered and Sara h blushed. This was positively more embarrassing than that time on Phototron. At least she had been pissed and couldn’t remember most of that.

“Just… oh, just forget it, Doctor.”

He sputtered again and this time Sarah didn’t wait for a proper response. She turned and began to walk (then run) down the hall. This situation was becoming far too messy. She couldn’t take it anymore. Talking out of line was one thing. Discussing sex with the Doctor? That was something else entirely.

Next time, she reminded herself, she had to keep her tongue in cheek.

Quite literally so.
his_sarah_jane: (hmmph)
87. Did you think I wouldn't notice?

“Oh, do you honestly think that I wouldn’t notice, Gethin Jones?” I stand there with my hands on my hips, eying the man in front of me. My eyes have narrowed and there’s a scowl on my face. I sigh, shake my head, and sigh again. “Really!”

“What?” He gives me a look. That exasperated, ‘what now?’ sort of look he tends to take on when we argue. The look that says it’s all my fault when, really, he’s just as much to blame. “What did I do now?”

“You know perfectly well what you did!” As I talk, I jab a finger in his chest, pushing him towards a wall. The two of us had been trapped in this small room for far too long now. It was starting to become claustrophobic. He was starting to become claustrophobic. And there’s fury in my eyes, frustration as I give him a good push. “The absolute last thing I need is a picture of you shagging Owen in my head!”

I’m going bloody mad. There’s no other way to describe it. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I knew we shouldn’t have touched that flipping device. The strange glowing round orb that had been nestled so perfectly above a mound of dirt at that crash site Gwen sent us to investigate. But quite apparently, Gethin was as bad as the no touching rule as I was.

We reached for it at the same time.

And ever since then, we’ve been stuck in this prison with Owen coming by every couple of hours to monitor us while Tosh and Hugh attempted to find a way to reverse the effects of the device sooner than later.

“All things hoping,” said Jack with a laugh, “and it’ll wear off in a matter of hours. Used to have one of these lying around myself. Greatest sex toy in the whole galaxy: telepathically connects you with your partner for a few hours to intensify the pleasure. Of course, if you’ve been hiding a couple of skeletons in your closet that come out during orgasm…”

He winked and shrugged and wandered off, not before confining the two of us to the Hub until the effects faded. That had been two hours ago. And now?

Now, I’m about absolutely ready to scream. I push him again and he just smirks. “Just admit it: you want me, doll. Can’t get enough of me.”

All of a sudden, I am – no, he is – thinking back to that fantasy he had been playing in his mind since Owen had left after the last checkup. Except now I’m in it, playing nurse to Owen’s doctor as Gethin more than willingly undergoes his ‘physical.’ I blink. And then I shove him hard against the wall.

“Oh, stop!”

He’s still smirking and grinning, like he’s won the lottery or some other daft contest. “I think I’ve figured it out now. I’m gentleman enough to include you in my thoughts, and you respond by shoving me against a wall. Jeez. You just like it rough, don’t you? So yeah, have your way with me. I’m through trying to argue with you, though.”

I stare at him and slowly begin to back away. Gethin takes the opportunity to slip away and spread out on a cot. I sigh, sitting at the edge of the same bed and pointedly looking anywhere but at him. So absolutely infuriating! And he bloody well knows it, for however long this connection persists. It’s not at all like what Ewan shared with me. That was magical. This is just… just impossible!

And more than anything, all this bloody psychic dealings make me miss Ewan even more. I sigh, leaning into my hands and trying not to cry. Today has been far too long and far too tiring. I want to sleep. But I’m afraid of the thoughts that might slip out--

“I’m not one for that long distance thing.” Gethin’s voice interrupts my ponderings. I turn, hesitant but curious, to find that he’s sat up in bed. His arms stretch lazily behind his head and he shrugs. The smirk is gone. He smile is gentler now, more like Ianto’s. “Never have been, love. But he strikes me as the sort of bloke who’s serious about giving it a go. Bet he’ll get a kick out of this whole ordeal when it’s over.”

The words surprise me. He surprises me. I’ve found Gethin has a habit of doing that. Just when I’m quite ready to make a firm judgment of the man, he does something that makes me reconsider everything. I shrug and give a slight smile.

“You know by now that there’s more to me,” he continues, moving an arm to scratch at his hair. “That I’m not a bad person and I just like to rile you up. So quit being all surprised and just, um. I guess, if you ever need a second opinion… or someone to make you forget, I’m getting to know you better right now than anyone else in the Hub. So yeah. I care, Sarah. Happy?”

Happy? The question rings through my head. I shrug slightly, not sure of the answer. I know he’s right about Ewan. And I know he’s right about himself. And, because of this daft, bloody mad alien device, he knows he’s right too. It’s confusing and complicated; makes my head spin and makes me just want to pick a fight with him even more.

His thoughts are whirling around in my head, mingling with mine. He’s thinking about Owen, thinking about Ianto and Bronwyn and even thinking about me. Worrying about me, he is, and what this connection might do to our burgeoning friendship. Wondering why we never seem to get along. It’s almost touching. It almost reminds me of Ewan. Until his mind shifts back to the Dr Harper fantasy, with Nurse Smith still a quite present part.

I shift uncomfortably, trying not to let it affect me. But it does. And he bloody well knows it. Git.

“Gethin?” I finally ask, breaking the rather loud silence. I shouldn’t be doing this. But his thoughts are driving me barmy. He turns to look in my direction and I seize that moment to pin him down on the cot. I look down at him and lick my lips, ignoring the way my hair curtains our faces. “You’re being far too fucking loud. Think you could shut up and kiss me?”

Jack’s right in the end, of course and the one thing Gethin and I can agree on is never to tell him that, that aggravations and frustrations and telepathic connections certainly do make the sex better.

One time isn’t an affair.

Owen won’t realise and Ewan won’t care.

One time doesn’t count.

And yet, he knew I’d notice.

[ooc: based on [livejournal.com profile] twood_hub]
his_sarah_jane: (hopeful)
85. Replacement - Take your favorite scene from a movie, television show, historical event and put your muse there instead. How is it different? What stays the same?

In the end, she wonders if it was all worth it. )

[ooc: based on across the universe. lyrics for "if i fall" and "all you need is love" by the beatles included in word count because the mun is lazy.]


his_sarah_jane: (Default)
Sarah Jane Smith

April 2011

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