Who: Tenth Doctor and Tara Smith (Tardis) What: Pizza party! (Of two.) When: Evening - Wen. Jan 16th Where: John Smith’s Hotel Rating: F for FUN. Status: Part 1 - complete
Tara’s phone hadn’t been this active in quite a while. Though yes, she did in fact have friends in Orange County (she’d been here long enough to settle), she wasn’t used to keeping in constant contact with people. As an army brat, she had never spent much time with people her age growing up. She wasn’t used to having lasting friendships. Sure, e-mails here and there. But there wasn’t nearly as much.
As soon as John had sent her that text, Tara had smiled brightly. Often people didn’t enjoy Tara upon first meeting -- or thought she was absolutely nuts -- but it wasn’t for any particular reason. She was just very upfront, and tired of hiding her true character from new friends. She’d had to make new friends for so long, it was tiring.
Within ten minutes, Tara was up and getting ready to meet John. He was just as enthusiastic about adventure as she was -- a very important aspect in a new friend! While she was playing slightly hard-to-get (and was being a bit cheeky with her replies), she was really already on her way over. Eager? Sure, a little. Mostly just excited.
She grabbed her keys, some snacks, a pair of pyjamas (who DOESN’T want to wear their jim jams during a movie?) (they might have been a TARDIS-blue onesie), and a few movies from her collection before running out the door. She hopped in her little blue Toyota and drove to John’s hotel, far less worried about the quarantine now that she’d already been out there before.
Even as they finished up their texting conversation, John knew that Tara was definitely going to be coming over. She might have been playing a little coy -- but not enough where he was just lost or confused about it.
Clearly (clearly) they were officially friends now. And there was no need to be confused over something like that. Not that he was aware of, anyway. So he did what any normal sort of bloke would do in a situation like this one: he called the pizza place. And he ordered too many pizzas. Bless a company that still delivered during sickness and quarantine. That was just … some crazy dedication right there.
Then he made sure that he could actually use that giant meeting room with the huge screen, because he didn’t want to be that rude to the hotel, as finding a place to live right now seemed a little difficult.
Assured in his plans for the night, John was feeling pretty smug about life. So smug, in fact, that he went to wait in the lobby of the hotel for Tara.
Tara parked her little car in his hotel’s parking lot (shutting it off with that wheezing noise again -- she really had to get that checked out), gathered her supplies from her back seat and headed inside.
When she saw John standing in the lobby, she couldn’t help the smirk that spread across her features. Cocky bastard.
“Hello again,” she called across the lobby, still smirking from ear to ear. She came right up to him and reached for a hug. She was glad they’d skipped any awkwardness with the hugging. “I see you called my bluff, then.”
“I had a hunch,” said John, still terribly smug, because he hadn’t really had to wait all that long -- in fact, the pizza guy had just shown up a few minutes prior (and yes, John had tipped him well -- even though tipping was still a bit of a foreign concept, what with him being, uh, foreign). Once they were done hugging it out, he pulled back and grinned widely, raising his eyebrows up leaning back on the heels of his tennis shoes. “Pizza’s here,” he said, gesturing toward where they were sitting on the table of the lobby. “What’d you bring?”
Tara lifted her bag of goodies in presentation. “I’ve brought some nibbles and my jim jams,” she told him matter-of-factly. Because it was a fact. And Tara would not lie about that. “Also some of my favourite films from my collection.” She waggled her eyebrows a bit. She owned some horribly fantastic movies. And was excited to watch them.
“So, meeting room?” She looked around them, wondering where this room could be. “Has it got incredibly comfortable seating? Perhaps a few beanbag chairs?”
“It’s got good seating,” he said with a nod and keenly raised eyebrows. “No beanbag chairs though, sorry. I’m afraid those mostly died out as a thing in the mid-nineties.” He frowned, even as he grabbed the pizzas and started leading the way to the place in question. “Shame too. So comfortable.”
Falling into step beside John, Tara bumped shoulders with him amicably -- and a bit teasingly. “They really are so comfortable,” she agreed, tongue poking out between her teeth as she smiled. “I do wish they were a more common factor in meeting rooms these days.”
She crossed her arms, shrugging a bit. “Movies and pizza are always better with bean bag chairs. I just don’t think this night will live up to my expectations.” Joking, of course, but she made a face. “I think I have to go home.” The fact that she began smiling ruined her faked disappointment. Any adventure with John Smith was one to stick around for.
“Either back home or back in time,” John said, sounding disappointed, but failing to actually change his expression. “Because I don’t even know where you’d find beanie chairs anymore. But we could probably get away with building a pretty keen blanket fort....” It was possible that John forgot sometimes that he was in his thirties, because he sure as hell never acted like it.
“Ooh, back in time. Now there’s a thought.” Meanwhile, completely oblivious to her true nature, Tara pondered that idea. If only time travel were possible. “Did you know,” she started, folding her arms over her chest as if she were about to teach a class. “That scientists have proved time travel is impossible? My theory when they said that, though, is they’re keeping it to themselves...” A wink.
Acting your age is overrated. Fuck that shit. Tara may have been in her early 20’s, but she wasn’t about to stop making blanket (or towel) forts. “Have you got enough blankets for a blanket fort?” she asked, all seriousness in her tone. Blanket forts are SRS BIZNESS. “We’ll need at least 10 blankets for a proper fort. And a good table, a few chairs to properly support the walls.”
John gave a good laugh at that. “Greedy bastards,” he shook his head. “Those scientists keep all the very best science for themselves.” He propped the pizza boxes up in one hand, to open up a set of doors they’d just come across.
“Blankets, we’ll need to scavenge more of,” he noted even as he invited her into the meeting room with a flourish. “But you’ll note that the table and chairs here are prettttty decent.” Oh, he knew SRS BIZNESS, for sure.
“Science is tricky wicky,” she agreed, stepping through the doors to the meeting room with a quick thanks. “Is it too much to ask for a quick trip back to the early nineties for a bean bag chair?”
She took a look around the meeting room. Indeed, the chairs and table were sufficient. “I can work with this,” she said, nodding as she looked around. Out of the two of them, she was definitely the expert with forts. Or so she’d like to claim. “We’ll need a good amount of blankets, and some pillows. They’ll help both the comfort level, and structural integrity of this fort.” She turned back to him, leveling him with a serious look. “Think you’re up to the task, Mister Smith?” Smile.
“Am I up to the task?” John asked, scoffing as if she’d just asked him the silliest question of all possible questions. Which, you know, she kind of had. “I’m sure I could manage in fact.... hold on a moment.” He set the pizzas down on the table before disappearing out the door again. He was positive he’d seen a few housekeeping carts a level or so up.
Tara was all about the silly. It was just a fact. Her questions ended up silly without any thought. She watched as John thought on going and getting some blankets and pillows for their fort. When he turned to leave the room, she called after him: “Get at least ten blankets! And as many pillows as you can find!”
She turned once he was gone, wonder what she’d do before he returned. Setting her bag of supplies on the table, she began unpacking -- chips and candy scattered all over the table (clearly a five year old that’s gone wild now that she can buy her own groceries), along with the movies she’d brought with her:
...She likes pirate movies. Especially the bad ones, okay?
John busied himself with finding blankets and pillows -- it wasn’t hard to do, considering he’d charmed the shit out of the little staff that the hotel had on at the moment -- and they all seemed bored enough to just let him do whatever he wanted around the place.
He hadn’t, however, considered how to carry all of the blankets and pillows -- a good ten of each was very clearly more than just an arm full. He finally managed by piling all the stuff onto one blanket and then literally pulling it along behind him down the halls. It wasn’t exactly the manliest looking scene around. John didn’t seem to notice, even as he re-entered the conference room -- only to find a mess of candy everywhere, and a … very interesting selection of films.
“Hello again!” Tara turned as John entered, smiling with all of her teeth as if she was quite proud of the things she’d brought. “I always keep some snacks in the house. You know, in case you get hungry,” and want to eat a whole shitload of Skittles.
She nodded to the films laid out on the table. “I was glad you said pirate movies. I’ve got a lot,” she explained, putting her hands on her hips as she turned her attention to the blankets and pillows.
“Shall I get started?” On the fort, of course. She started busying herself with John’s train of bedclothes. “You can pick the movie and food while I build!” She sounded like the happiest kid -- getting to make two forts in a week? Bloody fantastic!
John plopped down in one of the chairs -- although he had a feeling that he’d probably be kicked out of it sooner or later for her fort building purposes. “You’re the architectural master,” he agreed cheekily. “I’ll give you all the free reign you like.”
Glancing over the movie titles, he pulled a piece of pizza from one of the boxes and nibbled at it, even as he flipped the DVD boxes over to read up on them. He’d seen some of the more obvious ones -- Hook, Pirates of the Caribbean. The others, he had to admit to being a bit oblivious to.
He had to color himself a bit shocked when he noted one of them was... well. Pornographic?
Tara was oblivious to the pornographic nature of one of the films. To be honest, she was quite observant about a lot of things -- people’s nature, for one. But others? She lived in a state of perpetually blissful ignorance. It was one of her charms, probably.
She began pulling chairs to position, taking the pillows and lining them up on the floor for maximum comfort. Making the back wall of the fort entirely from pillows, she leaned them against the table and some of the chairs she’d brought over. There was a large grin the entire time she was setting it up, letting John peruse the movies while she worked.
Using more of the chairs, she draped the long blankets across them -- leaving enough room between them and the television to view it comfortably, of course -- as the roof structure. She moved back and set her fingers against her chin, studying what she’d built. If she had more time or blankets to work with, she’d probably have added more rooms. And if she’d had some rope or some way to get the roof higher, she would have. But this single-room blanket fort would have to do. For now.
“See anything you’d like to watch?” she asked, turning her eyes up to John with a small smile. She went back to fiddling with the blankets -- saving some for inside -- before turning to look at the last chair. She’d need the chair he was currently occupying to complete the structure. She gave him a weighty, slightly pouty look, hoping he’d get the hint.
Oh, he got the hint. But maybe only because he’d been aware that it was going to happen in the first place. Admittedly, he was pretty darn impressed by her work -- everything looked pretty stable and like it was at the maximum comfort level for what they had had on hand.
He gave up his seat for her BECAUSE SHE WAS SO POUTY. You just needed to ASK, Lady.
“Uhm,” he said, looking at her before hiding the pornography under all the rest of them. He wasn’t sure he could handle it, man. “How about... uh. Cutthroat..?”
“Whatever you like!” she told him, hurrying over when he gave up his seat, giggling just a little. She told him thanks (her momma didn’t raise no foo), and dragged the chair over. She propped up the last blanket, widening up the fort, and then stepped back and motioned towards it. “All done!” she exclaimed happily, watching John to gauge his opinion of her work.
Coming back over to the table, she pulled her (TARDIS)-blue jim jams out of her bag and showed all of her teeth in an ear-to-ear grin. Oh yes, she was very excited for this movie and pizza fort adventure.
Having spotted the bathrooms on the way in, Tara excused herself with a hasty “Be right back!” and hurried out of the room to get changed, smiling wide the whole way.