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A Bedtime Story

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K...so it was the night before an exam (I have forgotten which one) and I could NOT for the life of me fall asleep. So I told myself a bedtime story in hopes that it would put me to sleep, but instead I got really excited and hopeful and it just didn't work, and I had to write it down and it became

A twenty-three year old Katrina sat in her favourite Starbucks, shuffling through her day’s purchases (a Foucault, a Cixous, and a romance novel). Suddenly, her mobile went off – the sound of the TARDIS – and a brown head whipped around to look.

“Pippa, me love,” she said happily, “when are you done for the day?” A pause. “Oh, muffin.” Another pause. “What shall I make for dinner then? …Chocolate chip pancakes? …Yes, I know I have the best ideas ever. Okay! See you then.”

She looked up into a pair of brown eyes. “Hi!” she said, beaming. “Care for some chocolate chip pancakes?”

David Tennant considered. Sophia was forty-five minutes late and it didn’t look like she would make it. She was missing their dates with increasing frequency lately, so David decided that he didn’t mind if he wasn’t there when she arrived, hours late. He picked up his book and joined the girl, who packed up her own stack.

“My name’s Katrina,” she said, holding out her hand.

He shook it. “David Tennant. Where are you from?”

“Canada,” she replied. “I moved her last year when I graduated from university. I live with my friend Pippa, who’s going to grad school here.”

“Oh, brilliant!” he said. “What’s she studying?”

“Environmental studies,” Katrina said, proudly. “She’s going to save the world.”

“Oh,” said David. “What about you? What do you do?”

“I work as a receptionist at the Gherkin. It’s pretty much a dream come true.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, when Pippa and I met at university, we did this international program where we studied in East Sussex. We did a lot of travelling, but of all the places we went, the Gherkin is my favourite building.”

“Really? The Gherkin?” He looked so puzzled that Katrina just had to laugh.

“It’s so random and shiny and … phallic.” She shrugged apologetically. “My love for it is unexplainable. Every time I see it, my heart leaps up.”

David seemed at a loss.

“Don’t worry,” Katrina reassured him, “I know it’s slightly insane. Anyway, if I want to get dinner ready before Pip comes home, I should probably get going. You still want some?”

“Of course! I have never had chocolate chip pancakes.”

“You have never lived, my friend. Come on.”

As they took the Tube to Camden, where her and Pippa had found an amazingly inexpensive flat that was, of course, about the size of a university dorm, Katrina explained how after plotting and saving and borrowing for nearly three years, she and Pippa had finally moved to England.
“You can’t even understand how much we listened to Virgin Radio and how sad we were having to download our shows,” Katrina continued as she fitted her key in the lock, “But once you’ve been here, it’s like nowhere else is good enough.”

“In what way?” David asked. “Besides the Gherkin?”

Katrina laughed. “Like nowhere else has snarky street signs. And British humour in general.”

David nodded wisely. “Ah, that’ll do it.”

“And I doubt I could find such a high concentration of British accents in one place either…”

She threw open the door of the flat, which seemed to resist. David encountered a complex pyramid of shoes, beside which was a stack of books. And another stack of books beside that. In fact, books littered the flat; most of the furniture was books, except an exceptionally comfy looking loveseat and armchair. As she led him to the kitchen, David was relieved to find that there weren’t any books there. He would have been worried about the possibilities of a fire, otherwise.

Katrina offered him a drink – they only had gin and orange juice left.

“Sorry,” Katrina apologised, “it’s been my turn for ages, but I always forget. Do you like it?”

“Waael,” he said, thoughtfully, “It’s all right.”

“It’s no banana daiquiri,” she shot back, “but I like it. Does the trick.” She began mixing the pancake mix in a large bowl. “And it fits our breakfast theme.”

Just then, a key fumbled in the lock and the door opened and slammed closed. “Welcome home, honey!” Katrina called, winking at David.

“Waaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh,” was the only reply. Pippa shuffled into the kitchen, looking drawn and tired. She took a large sip of Katrina’s gin and orange before throwing herself in Katrina’s arms, declaring, “Researchers are ass!” She took another sip. “Oh, sorry,” she said, noting another presence in the room, “I didn’t realise we had company…”

She stopped short, visibly. Her eyes widened to a comedic degree and her jaw dropped open.

“Hello!” David said, cheerfully. “You must be Pippa. Katrina’s told me so much about you.”

“I … I … hi …?”

Katrina snorted. “Smooth, Pip.”

“I – well, what am I supposed to do with the most famous actor in Britain shows up in my kitchen?” She looked slightly less overwhelmed now.

“He didn’t show up. I coerced him with chocolate chip pancakes.”

“She definitely made me an offer I couldn’t refuse,” David agreed.

Pippa made a show of looking around. “Is John Barrowman here too? Billie Piper?”

“No,” said David, happily. “Just me.”

As Katrina fired up the grill, Pippa said hesitantly, “This is going to seem a little strange, but could you sign my Converse shoes?”

“Pippa,” he said charmingly, “I’ve been a detective in a murder-mystery-musical, the Doctor, and an escaped fugitive. Nothing is strange to me anymore.”

“Speaking of the Doctor,” Katrina said, “what do you think of the new one?”

“He’s…all right,” David hesitated, clearly unwilling to speak ill of anyone.

“He’s awful,” Pippa said shortly, with all the melancholy of one whose favourite show has gone down the shitter.

“And the worst part is that they used all the plausible Dalek plotlines up. I don’t even know why they appeared in the last episode,” Katrina complained.

David looking slightly bereaved. “It’s not his fault! It’s the writers!”

“True,” Pippa agreed immediately. “It only went downhill when Uncle Rusty died.”

“Uncle…Rusty…?” David asked, looking adorably confused.

“Don’t ask,” Pippa replied.

“Pancakes are ready,” Katrina sang out. She served two each and assembled all the necessary ingredients. They sat in momentary silence.

“So David,” Katrina said, suddenly, eager to break the silence, “how was your day?”

“Ohh, much better now that I’m eating these pancakes,” he replied with his mouth full. His eyes were crinkled into a satisfied smile as he chewed.

“Pippa?” she asked, turning to face her friend.

“My day was awful,” Pippa said, taking a fortifying sip of gin and juice.

“Oh, muffin!” Katrina exclaimed, while David asked, “What happened?” at the same time.

“My supervisor rejected my thesis,” Pippa said sadly.

David looked awkward. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, I thought it was genius,” Katrina said, looking mutinous. “Your supervisor’s a douche.”

“Well, I guess so,” Pippa said, still looking sad. Even the bite of her pancakes was sad.

“There’s only one thing to do then,” Katrina said bracingly. They both looked interested. “DRINKING GAMES!”

Pippa looked momentarily cheered. “But we don’t have any alcohol,” she pointed out.

“And whose fault is that?” Katrina replied. “Shit. Mine. Okay, wait here and I’ll go get some.” She wrapped up her remaining pancakes, grabbed her keys and wallet, and fled the flat, slamming the door behind her.

“What kind of games are they?” David asked, finishing his last bite of pancake.

“Umm,” Pippa said, “we have different ones. Want some more?” She got up and started putting more batter on their grill.

“Right, yes. Thanks,” David said, watching her bustle about with interest. “What sort of drinking games then?”

“Well, normally we’d play the Doctor Who drinking game. But tonight might be Serenity or Firefly because the Doctor Who one might be awkward for you.”

“Why would it be awkward?” David asked, confused.

“Becausewetakeashoteverytimeyou’repretty,” Katrina replied, bursting into the kitchen. She was breathless. She held up two bags. “Vodka coolers! And rum!”

“What do you do?”

Katrina collapsed on a kitchen chair. “We…take…a shot…every time…you’re pretty.”

“What kind of drinking game is that?”

“The best kind,” Pippa answered. “Very effective. I think Firefly is our best bet tonight, Trina.”

“And you drink every time the male lead is pretty?” David hazarded a guess.

“You catch on fast,” Katrina congratulated him. “Hurry up, Pip!”

Pippa made a face at her. “My chocolate!”

“Fiiiiiine,” Katrina whinged. “I’ll set up everything!” She bounced out of the kitchen to the living room.

David got to work on his pancakes. “These are amazing! I can’t believe I’ve never had one before!”

“We save them for exceptionally bad days,” Pippa told him. “So they never fail to cheer us up.”

“Ahh, well, I can see why,” he said, finishing it up.

“Are you done yet?” Katrina called. “Serenity is all ready to go!”

“We should watch Firefly,” Pippa yelled back. “David’s never seen it!”


David looked chagrined. “Sorry?”

“But … I don’t wanna watch the pilot! Serenity!”

“K, David,” Pippa said. “Do you want to watch the show or the movie?”

“We can lend you the show!” Katrina yelled. “Watch the movie!”

“I’m afraid she might hurt me,” David whispered loudly. “So the movie.”

Katrina cheered. When Pippa and David joined her she had twelve shot glasses lined up – four each – and was nearly bouncing with excitement.

“Oh man,” she gushed. “You’re going to love it, David. If Fox hadn’t been a douche and cancelled it, it’d be better than Doctor Who.”

“What is it about?”

Katrina and Pippa looked at each other. “Well, it’s a sci-fi western-”

“That’s all that can really be said,” Pippa finished for her.

“K – the rules are that you take a shot every time Mal is pretty-”

“-Zoe is bad-ass”

“-Wash is awesome-”

“-Jayne is hot-”

“-that’s all the time-”

“-and River is crazy.”

“Got it?”

“Um,” said David.

“Excellent!” And Katrina pressed play.

Two hours later, all three were ragingly drunk. Katrina was sniffling, Pippa was trying to rewind from the credits to find more pretty Mal, and David was giggling to himself.

“Waaaaash!” Katrina wailed. “If only they’d made another movie!”

“River was really awesome,” David said, helping himself to another shot.

“The jell-o shooters were a bad idea,” Pippa moaned, holding her stomach.

“Don’t pass out in the bathroom,” Katrina warned her.

“Shut up!” Pippa replied. “I still can’t believe you didn’t check on me!”

“The door was locked and Desperate Housewives was on…” She suddenly swung her attention to David. “How’re you going to get home? Where do you live?”

“You can stay on our couch,” Pippa offered.

That sounds like a fantastic idea,” David said, flinging himself backwards.

“Say that again?” Pippa asked.

“Fantastic!” David happily complied.

“K,” said Katrina, stopping short and eyeing David. “I’ve just always wanted to do this and I really hope you don’t mind…” She pounced on him, hugging him tightly around his torso. After roughly fifteen seconds, she released him. “Sorry,” she said, not sounding sorry at all, “I’ve always wanted to do that. You are actually the most huggable man alive.”

“All right,” he said, looking bewildered.

“Can I?” Pippa asked timidly. He opened his arms to her and she hugged him tightly too.

After they got resettled back on the couch, Katrina suggested: “How about the Torchwood drinking game?”

David started lining up the shot glasses. “Fantastic!”
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On May 25th, 2007 01:49 am (UTC), hufflepuffia commented:
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