Who: TARDIS and Tenth Doctor When: April 18, Lunch Time Where: Tara’s place of work. What: Lunch has-ing. Rating: L for the Lowest Possible Status: Complete
Tara hadn’t gotten a moment away from meetings all day, and hadn’t placed a thought anywhere close to stopping and having lunch. When she’d sat at her computer the first time that day, making a quick net post (wishing she’d been outside on such a beautiful day), John had offered to bring her lunch. Which was pretty great because a) she would be able to hang out with her best friend, and b) grilled cheese was her favourite.
It had been nearly a half hour since John had said he’d come by, and Tara was sorting through some paperwork to waste time. Paperwork: also known as the bane of miss Smith’s existence. It was lucky she could find pleasure and happiness in just about anything.
More like everyone else was lucky she could find pleasure any about anything, because John wasn’t sure Tara’s workplace could handle the Ultimate Pout all the time. Even he couldn’t, and he was a Time Lord. Or something.
He arrived with a bag of food and a cupholder of milkshakes in hand -- Tara’s coworkers all knew him by now and there was a hum of ‘oh, hi John’s as he wandered through the office and toward her desk.
“Lunch!” he greeted with a smile that was a little too proud.
The Ultimate Pout was certainly something to fear. But today? John had nothing to be worried about. The moment he stepped into her office, Tara shot up and launched herself at him. “John!” she cried, sounding probably the most excited she ever had to see him. Because he had brought her lunch, and she was hungry.
Somehow, the milkshakes and food hadn’t tumbled to the ground in her hug. She leaned back and kissed him on the cheek, eyes and smile bright. “Hello! Thank you!”
He was just that good. Really. Balancing everything with a firm grip, he bent down to give her a proper one armed hug and return her kiss on the cheek with one on her forehead. Really, her whole office must have assumed a lot of things about them. Things that they, obliviously, did not think on themselves.
“Hello,” he returned with a wide grin. It was almost as if he hadn’t been the saddest of all men on the planet two and a half weeks prior -- there was no sign now of that terrible weariness or depression. “It’s a lovely day. Should we eat outside? Or did we learn our lesson last time?”
There might have been a giggle at the kiss to her forehead. Stepping back, she stayed wrapped in his arm as she reached to lighten the load on his poor hand. Now holding the milkshakes, she shrugged and looked about. “It is nice out,” she began. “But we didn’t have such great luck that time. We could eat here?” She waved to her desk, which was surprisingly neat.
Not too surprisingly -- John had been here before, and did know that despite her childishness, Tara did have it in her to be mature and adult when she needed to be. He glanced around the little office and shrugged before giving a lopsided sort of smile. “Could do. Saves us the trouble of running from ducks, later.”
That kind of fun was meant for once every great while, after all.
It really was. Tara giggled a bit at that, nodding. “Ducks would not be good,” she agreed, disconnecting from him to grab a chair from the other room. She pulled it back into her office with a bright grin, and then waved for him to sit as she pulled her chair around to sit beside him. Sitting, she set the milkshakes down and might have been bouncing her hands on her knees as she watched John.
Such a child, really.
But it was endearing, and therefore okay. John flopped himself into his seat and made short work of pulling food from the bag he’d brought. Grilled cheese and chips for her, turkey sandwich and chips for him. Chips. Like fries. But British. This was important.
“How’s the day?” he asked, leaning back into his seat almost lazily and sipping on the world’s best banana chocolate milkshake. Or at least the day’s best one.
“Better now,” she said with a soft smile. Did she mean now that John was here or now that grilled cheese was in the building? A mystery. Either way, the tender moment was over quickly once her food was out of the bag. She opened the container, excited, and took her milkshake, drinking it as if she’d never see another milkshake again. The oncoming brain freeze hit hard, and she made one of those pouty sad faces that John oh so hated as she complained:
“Ooooowwww,” she put a hand on her forehead, still frowning. How John dealt with her was a mystery. Just a bitey mad lady all around.
Which was probably exactly how he dealt with her. John would take mad and bitey and pouty (and even bubblegum ice cream) over reserved and boring and shoe shopping any day of the week. Hell, he’d make up new days of the week if it need come to that.
He shook his head, indulgent, but not sympathetic. “Oh, Tara. What’ll I do with you?” He ate chips even as he spoke.
Once Tara’s brain freeze had faded, she was able to respond. She was grinning again as she told him “You haven’t any choice but to love me forever. I’m your TARDIS.” Because it was the truth. She was also Tara, which was just another point to add to that.
Putting her milkshake aside now, Tara started working on her own food. She had a bite of her grilled cheese and made a happy noise. Because “Grilled cheese is my favourite.”
“I already do love you forever,” John said, and if they both weren’t oblivious and lacking in some sort of introspection that profession of love might have been so, so terribly meaningful. But in this case it was just a weird matter of fact truth as opposed to an admittance of something else entirely.
“And I know,” he was pretty happy with his turkey and swiss, himself. “That’s why I suggested it.” He seemed a bit smug about it all.
“Good,” she replied, nodding sagely. And then she was silent for a little while, because grilled cheese was meant to be consumed quickly. Or so Tara was led to believe. Pulling her legs up so she was sitting cross-legged on the chair, the girl wiggled and pushed so she was facing John as she ate.
“Have you been writing today?” she asked, taking another bite as she watched him.
“Not really,” John admitted, and probably should have sounded more guilty for it, but frankly his writing was ahead of schedule and so he had very little to be sorry for. “I found some online games, and they were really just quite distracting.” Sometimes he was still such a child. It was no wonder why they got along.
“Ooooh! Which ones!” She watched him with the most excited expression. Tara loved getting distracted by online games. It was easy for her, to be quite honest. She was the type who found it easy to get sidetracked by just about anything fun. It happened at work more often than she’d like to admit.
John played the stupidest online games too -- not real video games, but games built on flash and ones that tested his typing skills. Time wasters that didn’t have plot or point. “You--er. Have to catch bees in bubbles. The music was quite relaxing.” A pause. “I’ll email it to you later.” And then, because how silly did that sound out loud? He took a bite of his sandwich.
Catching bees in bubbles sounded like the perfect game. “Please do!” she said at his offer to send it over. Leaning forward, she gave his cheek a little nuzzle with an eskimo kiss, then leaned back and smiled at him. She really loved her best friend, and had trouble not expressing it tactically apparently. Just smiling away, she finished her sandwich and started on her milkshake again. Hopefully with no more brain freeze, this time around.
No worries, if brainfreeze came up again, John would be around to not help her at all, but look on in vague consternation. It was what any true friend would do.