Who: Tardis and Tenth Doctor When: Saturday night after this Where: A bar or something. What: Drinking and stuff. Rating: PG-13 for sweetness and innocent kisses. Status: Complete.
Tara had been buried by work the past few weeks. Being in the middle of the hiring season, she’d had (what felt like) infinite amounts of interviews and headhunting projects on the go. Only adding to the stress of work were her dreams and what came about with them. Most notably: doubt, identity crisis, confusion and wonder. When a coworker had asked if she were interested in coming to their birthday party that weekend, the girl’s eyes had lit up. She needed a night to get out of her own head, her own stresses, and into the real world again.
Deciding to invite her companion best friend along was not even something she had to consider. Her colleagues already knew John, and anyway Tara was comfortable bringing him anywhere with her. He was charismatic and good with people. The perfect date.
Arriving at John’s apartment, Tara stepped out of her little blue car wearing her favourite vintage (50s inspired, anyway) blue dress. She pulled out her phone and sent him a text, announcing her arrival.
He’d probably notice that his best friend was a bit... out of sorts. Not sad, just in her head. She had a lot to think about.
John Smith was a lot of things, but unobservant was not one of them. He’d noticed her moods lately -- of course he had, how could he not? Even though they did not live together, she was over a lot. He knew her possibly better than anyone else, including his own roommate, Gwen. Tara tried. Even when she wasn’t in the most chipper of mindsets, she went for it anyway, even if she occasionally missed the mark.
It was probably difficult being the TARDIS, he imagined. But maybe not always for the reasons he suspected.
Adjusting his tie (off-red), and the collar of his shirt (blue), his phone went off and he didn’t need to check it to know that Tara was downstairs waiting. He grinned (because he couldn’t help but grin when Tara was around) and bounced down the stairs to grab the door.
“Hellooooo,” he greeted, elongating the word in order to recover from the sight of her in that dress without really letting on to the fact that he had to recover in the first place. Really, he was good at this sort of thing.
If John had had to recover from seeing her in the dress, Tara hadn’t noticed it. Turning as he greeted, she returned his grin with a small smile. Checking herself (she had to at least try with John around), she turned it into an equal grin after a moment and hurried over to her best friend.
Rising up onto her toes, Tara set her hands on either of John’s shoulders and gave him a smiling peck in greeting. It was only natural for her to greet him that way, now. The hugs had turned to happy kisses and holding hands without either of their notice, it seemed. Or at least it had slipped Tara’s notice. “You look very handsome,” she told him, as if that were normal as well. Because he was handsome, and that was her favourite suit. She could not deny the obvious!
“I called a cab,” she said, rolling back onto her heels but leaving her hands on his chest. “It should be here in a few minutes!”
The kisses were natural - perfectly sweet and unassuming - and so John gave her one in return before grinning widely and throwing an arm over her shoulder as they waited. He was vaguely aware that they acted like more than friends, but even in his dreams he did things like that -- he stroked the TARDIS like an old friend, on that he’d long been in love with. And the TARDIS had responded by taking him to amazing places. Same as here. So even if he might be harboring some small crush, it was often easily forgotten because he was the Doctor and she was the TARDIS and didn’t it all just make sense exactly as it was?
“We’ve never had a bar night,” he said, easily amused at the thought. “About time then, I expect.”
“Haven’t we?” she asked, settling against John’s side. Tara let one hand slip around his back, and clasped the two together against his other side in an intimate hug. Her head was on his shoulder, looking up at him as she considered that. They had certainly been on many adventures, just none of this sort before. “S’pose we haven’t,” she agreed, letting go as a cab turned into the parking lot.
“Another new adventure!” she exclaimed, opening one of the doors as the taxi came to a stop. “Can’t wait,” she grinned and climbed into the backseat, waiting for John to join her even as she told the driver where they were going.
Once they were both piled in the car, with seatbelts properly buckled, John went back to grinning like a wild maniac. It was hard to help himself. She might have been a bit off in mood lately -- but since he’d figured out that she was exactly who and what she was -- well. His mood had been exceptionally positive. Maybe his balanced her out until they were back at an equal square one.
“It’s a work thing, right? What’s the occasion?” He liked being in the know at least a tiny bit -- that way he could barge in to any scene and be able to prattle off some impressive information. It was a very Doctor way of things.
His good mood was infectious, anyway. Tara found herself smiling as she turned to answer John’s question. She took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “It’s Leslie’s birthday!” she told him. “Apparently she’s organized a huge affair for it. Even asked the bar to have specialty drinks made for her.” Leslie sounded like a diva.
Specialty drinks? Hmm. Either Leslie was always a bit of a difficult customer, or she was turning a very important number. Thirty usually proved a big one. A big send off, because when youth was over, clearly death was next. Or so he’d heard. John, himself was somewhere between thirty-two and nine-hundred and forty, so it was really hard to gauge how important age really was or not.
Still. Birthdays were kind of brilliant, and almost always fun. So who was he to say something negative? “Love a birthday,” he said cheerfully. “Probably the drinks will be delicious.”
“Well,” she began, tipping her head to the side as she lifted her brows at John. “I’ve heard that Leslie loves bananas.” And that was probably incentive enough for him to try at least one of the drinks. She could almost guarantee there would be something with banana in it.
And they had arrived! Paying the cab driver quickly (she never let John pay), the brunette stepped out of the cab and hurried to the front of the bar. She waited for John there, a hand outstretched to take his. A bit like a child waiting for their escort.
Although it wasn’t really clear which was the child and which was the escort in this particular relationship. Maybe a bit of both, really. Still, John took her hand and swung it a little back and forth even as they walked into the place.
It was clearly rented out for an event, because there were banners and shiny bits and things around. And was that a dance floor? Oh yes.
John couldn’t help but grin. The idea of music and dancing and banana anything was enough to make it worth it. Not that the promise of Tara’s company alone hadn’t been enough to get him to leave the house.
“Brilliant,” he said, because he could.
Tara turned a smile to John, holding tight to his hand as she hurried to greet her colleagues. She gave most of them hugs, others great big grins, and introduced John to anyone he hadn’t met before.
Chatting for a few minutes, Tara eventually excused herself with the intention of getting a drink. Leaning on the bar, stretching up onto her tip-toes, she waved down the bartender and ordered something for her and John.
John, never one to follow people around like a love sick puppy, stayed behind for the time being -- he was chatting up Leslie in random pleasantries. Happy Birthday. Looks like you made lovely plans. Oh, you’re how old? Lovely, lovely. Still, he couldn’t help watching Tara from across the room. He loved how she had to stand on her toes -- how she almost bounced when she was standing still.
Accepting the drinks, Tara paid and headed back over to the group. She handed John his drink (it was banana-flavoured, of course, who do you think she is?) and continued mingling with the group. After giving him a grin and a “here you go,” of course.
“Thanks,” John said, and totally pressed a quick kiss to her cheek because they did that now and he saw no reason not to. It didn’t occur to him that they were probably fueling a betting pool of rumors at Tara’s workplace. “Ooh, banana.”
There might have been a small giggle at the kiss to her cheek. Because Tara’s are full of giggles with John’s around. Standing next to him, she settled a hand on his lower back and chatted with a few of the group, who were probably totally in on the betting pool.
After a minute of chatting, the brunette turned to look back up at John. “Do you like it?” the drink, of course.
“Oh,” demurred John, as he was quite a smooth fellow when he wanted to be. “I do. It’s quite nice. Would you like to try it?” Her hand was nice there, but he supposed he would have to give it up if she did want to try the drink, seeing as she had one of her own in her free hand.
Indeed she would. And she did, moving back a step as she took the drink John had offered. She tried it and smiled. Very banana-y. No wonder John liked it! “Yep,” she said, handing it back over. “Very nice. Though it reminds me a bit of cough syrup.” Not always a bad thing, she would admit. “Think we should suggest it to Gwen for the next party?”
“The next party won’t be at my place,” John said, grinning a little. “But we can always keep it in mind.” Although a daiquiri was still the best kind of banana drink. Add a little strawberry and you could be set for life. Or, well, at least a night.
Plus Gwen did seem to like making drinks.
“I’ll have the next one,” she promised, taking a sip of her drink. She offered John (wordlessly) a sip as she raised it toward him, eyebrows lifting. Her free hand settled on her hip. “I’ve got plenty of room now that my parents have gone.” She leaned forward and whispered just low enough so others couldn’t hear: “It isn’t bigger on the inside, but it’ll do.” She considered winking, but when Tara tried to wink, it turned out rather badly. So she just smiled knowingly at the Doctor. He’d know the reference better than anyone.
Yeah, sometimes people made the act of winking look a bit more like a worrisome seizure. Tara may or may not have been one of those people. “For it,” he agreed, for some reason he wasn’t thinking so much a party at her place, but just visiting it himself. It was rare he went over to hers -- since she so often just wound up at his without either of them making the plans.
Had he ever been to her place before? Tara couldn’t recall. She didn’t spend much time there, herself. Often only to sleep, and even then she ended up on Gwen and John’s couch quite often. Leaning back from her whispering distance, she finished her drink and nodded at her best friend’s.
“Another?” she asked, sounding like she knew that the night would end with one of them stumbling out of the cab. “I’m sure they can make daiquiris.”
Hey, you didn’t waste an opportunity like this -- if you took a cab there and knew you had to take one back, there was a really big no harm no foul area to work in as far as getting drunk went.
He finished his off as well, because no matter what anyone else said, Yes. This was a Race. “Why not?” He asked, cheerful as ever. “My turn to pay?”
“Sure!” she chimed brightly, sounding much better now that she’d taken her mind off of moping and working. Handing John her empty glass, she told him “Surprise me,” before bouncing off toward the DJ. She had something in mind for later in the night.
---
The DJ was aces. The drinks were aces -- the both of them had had a number between them that was threatening to hit the double digits soon -- neither seemed to mind because tonight was fun. They’d danced stupidly for a bit. Somewhere from the bar to the dancefloor John had lost his suit coat. He hadn’t lost his drink yet though -- although it was sloshing a bit. He blamed the oonz oonz of the bass -- something that seemed kind of ironic considering that the DJ was playing 80’s europop.
The Doctor danced kind of funny -- he was a little too lanky, too hyper to have any real style to it. Still, he tried. “This is better,” he found himself half-yelling, “than the last bar trip I went on!” At least it was in terms of happiness.
Tara was no better. Though she had the appeal of being quite nice looking to start, her moves were nothing to write home about. She was bouncy and altogether cute (what about Tara was not just adorable?) as she tried to Robot around the dance floor. It fit the 80s music, of course.
As she’d watched John dancing, it had reminded her of her dreams. To be exact, it reminded her of the Doctor in another body claiming that he could dance. As far as she could tell, this body of his was no better at it. But neither of them seemed to be.
She hadn’t stopped grinning since about the sixth drink. To be honest, Tara was just about drunk, toasted, shitfaced, wrecked. But she was having fun! “Is it?” she yelled back, moving so she could hear him a bit better. She paused her dancing (okay, she was still bouncing a bit) as she put a hand on John’s hip and continued. “What happened last time?”
He was still dancing. Mad and wild half bouncing half swaying -- and his free hand found her waist as well. Because that meant they were within arms’ length and wouldn’t have to yell as loudly to hear each other. There was a lot of logic to that -- at least in a drunken sort of way. “I found Rose Tyler,” he replied, voice loud -- but not so much over the music.
Tara leaned back, eyes wide as she stared at John. This was perhaps a conversation better suited for sober minds, but that was not much of an option in the situation they’d found themselves in. The current subject had sobered her up enough to take a full stop on her horrible dancing.
For some reason, at the mention of Rose Tyler’s name, Tara felt incredibly conflicted. She knew that she had loved Rose as the TARDIS. The girl had brought the Doctor out of a dark place, changed him for the better. Turned him into the Doctor that he wanted to be. But Tara (not the TARDIS) felt a pang of worry at the name. What did it mean for her and John?
The human and the TARDIS Tara always seemed to be conflicted. But this pink and yellow human seemed to bring up the nerves. That was how she would describe it: Tara was nervous.
She’d probably been staring a bit too long, so she shook away the frown that had settled on her lips and replaced it with a smile. “That’s wonderful!” she said. “How was she?”
John supposed if he hadn’t been drunk, he might have been a little more expecting of that reaction. Because he’d been thinking of a way to bring it up for the latter half of two weeks now. To no proper avail. And now he’d done it without even thinking twice. Stupid. He’d blame the music, again.
He did, however, know exactly what to say -- to make Tara happy again. “She’s brilliant,” he said, and didn’t notice that he’d stopped dancing too, and so now they were just two still people on a dance floor of moving bodies. “She work at a comedy club. Lives with the last me.” Tara would know what that meant.
And of course John had been sad about it. How could he not have been? He loved Rose Tyler -- in ways that he could not describe in words. More thoroughly than he loved anyone, really. Except for maybe his TARDIS. Which, in his own Doctor!World had been quite different. But here no one was taking notes.
Tara didn’t know if her smile was from relief, or if it came from hearing that Rose was doing brilliantly. She continued smiling up at John, and gave him a bit of a squeeze with the hand on his waist. “I’m so glad to hear she’s doing well,” she admitted, and that was entirely honest. She really did love the blonde human. She’d poured her soul into her, hadn’t she?
The girls were probably closer than Tara even knew.
“Are you... Are you okay?” she asked, watching him with a soft expression. Though she didn’t know the depth of John’s love for Rose, she had known the Doctor’s. She had felt it in his mind and his hearts through their psychic link. It could not have been easy to see her again.
That was really the problem though, wasn’t it? Sometimes John didn’t know the difference between John and the Doctor. Sometimes it was difficult to act accordingly. Think accordingly. Still, he tried his very best. This time would be no different.
He smiled, wide; believable. “Oh, yes,” he said, and his eyes were bright -- teeth white. “I’m quite happy for her. We’ll all have to see her sometime, yeah? And the other me.” Nine.
And he was telling the truth in some regard. But he didn’t know everything there was to know, not yet. Later on, it might very well be the biggest lie he ever told. But right now? It wasn’t. Not even close.
The Ninth Doctor had had a difficult time. Tara had felt the closest to him due to the amount he had spent alone, and the years she had comforted him through their psychic connection. John most likely knew this, so would know what the shake of her head was about. She knew far too much about her Doctor, and yet so little still.
The TARDIS had loved her Doctor with all of her soul. Her thief, her friend, her companion. And now, her best friend.
“Yes, we will,” she agreed, returning his bright smile. Leaning up onto her toes, John’s best friend placed a kiss on his cheek and then settled back on her feet. A hand had settled against the back of his head, and Tara was running her fingers through the short hair at the top of his neck. “I would like that very much.”
“Good,” said the Doctor, and he was actually happier at her response than he thought he might be. And then he giggled a little, in his self-satisfied sort of way, and because he was drunk and he liked the way she was touching his hair, he saw absolutely no harm in leaning down a little to kiss her.
Tara had nearly forgotten about the drink in her hand, but she managed to keep it upright as she giggled against John’s lips. She seemed to have placed double or triple the amount of little kisses compared to his one. Just her way. She was grinning, still running her fingers through his hair as she settled her forehead against his. “Brilliant,” she agreed, borrowing his word for just a moment. “Absolutely brilliant.” Or two.
She could use them; John Smith and the Doctor both had words to spare. He gave her another smile and resisted the urge to kiss her for a longer period of time -- because that was not their way -- but instead finished off his drink. “Happy birthday!” he said loudly, because that made sense. But then he winked at Tara. His wink was a normal, charismatic guy sort of wink. “Another?”