wordslinging (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wordslinging) wrote2007-03-09 04:30 am
wordslinging) wrote2007-03-09 04:30 am
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Title: Acting on Instinct
Fandom: Doctor Who (Fourth Doctor)
Characters/Pairing: Four/Leela. Yep.
Rating: PG
Notes: The Doctor thinks too much. Leela acts on instinct. Somehow, it makes them a pretty good pair.
Leela is one of the most purely physical traveling Companions the Doctor has ever had, all quick, decisive action guided by sure hunter’s instinct. It’s occurred to the Doctor that perhaps that’s part of why he’s let her stay. He may choose brains over brawn whenever possible, but he’d be the first to admit that that tendency’s gotten him into trouble as well as out of it, and since they met, Leela’s saved his life more than once by acting without hesitation.
Which really ought to, but somehow doesn’t, leave him any less surprised when she propositions him.
“You–you can’t be serious!” he stammers after a moment, and her expectant look shifts into one of puzzlement.
“Why would I not be serious?”
“Well–“
“Do you find me unattractive?” she asks, sounding surprisingly hurt by the idea, and the Doctor shakes his head quickly.
“No! No, it’s not that.” Not that at all, he can’t help but think, looking at toned arms and long legs and smooth, tanned flesh–a lot of it on very prominent display–and soft hair and a full mouth and eyes that have the same fierce brightness as a bird of prey. “But that’s not the only consideration–“
Leela smiles, the pleased, almost childishly simple smile that means she thinks she has him figured out. “Oh, I do not find you unattractive, either,” she tells him reassuringly.
“But I–“ he blinks. “You don’t?”
She steps closer to him–and he ought to move back, really, because she was far too close already–and looks up at him, something serious in her eyes now.
“You are not the most handsome man I have known,” she says, her tone thoughtful. “But you are wise though you talk like a fool, and strong though you sometimes appear weak, and kind though your temper is short. There were handsome men among my tribe, but none of them were nearly so interesting, and I think I prefer interesting.”
“I–well–thank you.” He shouldn’t be encouraging her, he reminds himself, but he doesn’t know how else to respond to such strangely eloquent praise.
Leela smiles, and, as if the matter is settled, stretches up toward him. Her mouth is barely an inch from his when the Doctor catches her by the shoulders and takes a firm step backward.
“It’s...not that simple, Leela. There are things I’m just...not in the habit of doing with my traveling companions.”
Leela folds her arms, looking up at him patiently. “I do not see why that means you cannot start doing them now, if you want to.” With a hint of smugness, she adds, “And I think you do want to, even if you are trying to pretend you do not, for some reason.”
With a noise of frustration, the Doctor lets go of her shoulders and retreats further, putting the TARDIS console between them. He has to keep circling when Leela starts to follow, moving almost exactly as she would during a hunt.
“If that were the case–and mind, I’m not admitting that it is, but if it were–there’s more to consider than what I want. There’s the question of whether or not it would be right.”
That earns him the you are acting foolish again look. “If it is something both of us want, why would it not be right?”
“Well...” The Doctor falters a bit–the way she’s steadily refusing to take her eyes off his face is making it a bit hard to concentrate. “Well, because I feel a certain responsibility towards you, and...”
Leela stops following him around the console and folds her arms again, a certain petulance in her expression now. “And because you always know best? Because you are the Doctor and I am merely a savage?”
“Leela,” he chides, stern and impatient, and then leans forward with his hands on the console, meeting her eyes as he adds, more quietly, “I wouldn’t call you ‘merely’ anything. You know that.”
Leela holds his gaze as she moves around the console, and he tells himself to evade her and then doesn’t. She moves in close, looking up at him seriously.
“If you do not want me, then tell me so. But if you do, then let me decide what is right for me, and do not hold back because you are afraid.”
“Afraid!” The Doctor draws himself up, looking down at her intimidatingly. “Now, look here, whatever else I am, young lady, I am not afraid of you.”
“Good,” Leela says, looking far more pleased than intimidated, and the Doctor’s still trying to figure that one out when she stretches up to kiss him again, with notably more success this time.
Fandom: Doctor Who (Fourth Doctor)
Characters/Pairing: Four/Leela. Yep.
Rating: PG
Notes: The Doctor thinks too much. Leela acts on instinct. Somehow, it makes them a pretty good pair.
Leela is one of the most purely physical traveling Companions the Doctor has ever had, all quick, decisive action guided by sure hunter’s instinct. It’s occurred to the Doctor that perhaps that’s part of why he’s let her stay. He may choose brains over brawn whenever possible, but he’d be the first to admit that that tendency’s gotten him into trouble as well as out of it, and since they met, Leela’s saved his life more than once by acting without hesitation.
Which really ought to, but somehow doesn’t, leave him any less surprised when she propositions him.
“You–you can’t be serious!” he stammers after a moment, and her expectant look shifts into one of puzzlement.
“Why would I not be serious?”
“Well–“
“Do you find me unattractive?” she asks, sounding surprisingly hurt by the idea, and the Doctor shakes his head quickly.
“No! No, it’s not that.” Not that at all, he can’t help but think, looking at toned arms and long legs and smooth, tanned flesh–a lot of it on very prominent display–and soft hair and a full mouth and eyes that have the same fierce brightness as a bird of prey. “But that’s not the only consideration–“
Leela smiles, the pleased, almost childishly simple smile that means she thinks she has him figured out. “Oh, I do not find you unattractive, either,” she tells him reassuringly.
“But I–“ he blinks. “You don’t?”
She steps closer to him–and he ought to move back, really, because she was far too close already–and looks up at him, something serious in her eyes now.
“You are not the most handsome man I have known,” she says, her tone thoughtful. “But you are wise though you talk like a fool, and strong though you sometimes appear weak, and kind though your temper is short. There were handsome men among my tribe, but none of them were nearly so interesting, and I think I prefer interesting.”
“I–well–thank you.” He shouldn’t be encouraging her, he reminds himself, but he doesn’t know how else to respond to such strangely eloquent praise.
Leela smiles, and, as if the matter is settled, stretches up toward him. Her mouth is barely an inch from his when the Doctor catches her by the shoulders and takes a firm step backward.
“It’s...not that simple, Leela. There are things I’m just...not in the habit of doing with my traveling companions.”
Leela folds her arms, looking up at him patiently. “I do not see why that means you cannot start doing them now, if you want to.” With a hint of smugness, she adds, “And I think you do want to, even if you are trying to pretend you do not, for some reason.”
With a noise of frustration, the Doctor lets go of her shoulders and retreats further, putting the TARDIS console between them. He has to keep circling when Leela starts to follow, moving almost exactly as she would during a hunt.
“If that were the case–and mind, I’m not admitting that it is, but if it were–there’s more to consider than what I want. There’s the question of whether or not it would be right.”
That earns him the you are acting foolish again look. “If it is something both of us want, why would it not be right?”
“Well...” The Doctor falters a bit–the way she’s steadily refusing to take her eyes off his face is making it a bit hard to concentrate. “Well, because I feel a certain responsibility towards you, and...”
Leela stops following him around the console and folds her arms again, a certain petulance in her expression now. “And because you always know best? Because you are the Doctor and I am merely a savage?”
“Leela,” he chides, stern and impatient, and then leans forward with his hands on the console, meeting her eyes as he adds, more quietly, “I wouldn’t call you ‘merely’ anything. You know that.”
Leela holds his gaze as she moves around the console, and he tells himself to evade her and then doesn’t. She moves in close, looking up at him seriously.
“If you do not want me, then tell me so. But if you do, then let me decide what is right for me, and do not hold back because you are afraid.”
“Afraid!” The Doctor draws himself up, looking down at her intimidatingly. “Now, look here, whatever else I am, young lady, I am not afraid of you.”
“Good,” Leela says, looking far more pleased than intimidated, and the Doctor’s still trying to figure that one out when she stretches up to kiss him again, with notably more success this time.