(no subject)

[encored]

Who: The Doctor and Charles
What: One fattydingdongs accidentally eats band candy, impromptu babysitting ensues...
Where: Bakery, streets, 767 Bunker Street
When: March 3rd
Warnings: Toothrot from adorable shenanigans

[one would think Charles learned his lesson about monitoring his intake of suspicious foods the last time something questionable happened involving them, but nope, that isn't the case at all. someday he will learn, but that day has clearly not come, since there is now an even-younger-looking-than-usual chiropteran roaming around with the other unfortunate band candy'd souls.

at least he has a vague recollection of the town layout this time around, so he doesn't get lost in his attempts to locate familiar faces... he just gets incredibly distracted at the bakery for a while, ambling in the general direction of the Doctor's house only after he's bought himself a bag of snacks. priorities.]

Comments

[godcomplexed]

[And the Doctor is for once, sleeping. Except it's the middle of the day so he's really doing it wrong. The days since Amy and Rory left have begun to drag on and on. He finds that sleeping helps pass the time.]

[desepanouir]

[WELP he's going to be rudely woken by a rather loud knock on his door from someone who hasn't taken poor sleeping habits into consideration. people don't sleep during the day that is just a silly notion.

...of course, by the time he actually gets to the Doctor's house he can't entirely remember why he headed here in the first place. so instead of finding anyone at his doorstep when he answers the knocks, the Doctor will see that Charles has ambled off to look at the Pandorica instead....]

[godcomplexed]

[The Doctor grumbles at the knocking and pulls a pillow over his head. But even as he tries to go back to sleep, he finds that the sound has fully roused him.

With a scowl he gets up and opens the door.]

Charles? What the hell are you doing?

[desepanouir]

[peers around from the other side of the box, completely oblivious to his irritation... he's too busy being confused by the fact that he kind of vaguely remembers Charles being his name, even though that's just silly.]

It's strange, how familiar that sounds. [but he looks skyward thoughtfully right after, not giving the name any more of his time.] I came here, but I can't remember why. Was I supposed to do something today? I feel like there's something important that I'm forgetting to do...

[godcomplexed]

...I don't know what you were supposed to do, I'm afraid. I think we both tend to do the "drop by with no warning" thing.

[desepanouir]

Ah... We do, don't we? [he says this like someone just recalling an old memory, and perks up a bit right after.] Well, it will come to me with time, I'm sure! I wouldn't forget an important thing very long.

For now, I've brought a bag of pastries from the bakery along with me. Would you like one?

[godcomplexed]

I'm not hungry.

[the Doctor waves a hand, despite being nothing but skin and bones]

[desepanouir]

[curious... he shuffles over to the Doctor from where he was, holding out his bakery bag once he gets close enough.]

Not even one thing? You don't look very well.

[godcomplexed]

I'm alright, honestly. When have I ever been 'unwell'? I'm always mostly 'well'.

[He smirks and ruffles the boy's hair.]

[desepanouir]

[HORROR OF HORRORS he doesn't react to the hair-ruffle with a single scrap of indignation or old man grumpiness! in fact, he seems relatively happy about it.]

I feel like you've said that before. Still, mostly well isn't always well, don't forget that!

[godcomplexed]

I'm well enough.

[tugs at his cowlick.]

Stop your fussing.

[desepanouir]

[that earns him a little bit of an irritated huff, but nothing on par with his usual reactions.]

It's not fussing. [but he'll be tugging on the Doctor's arm now to try to put a pastry in his hand...]

[godcomplexed]

Charles.

[He's using the "dad" voice as he tries to avoid the pasty being shoved into his hand.]

[desepanouir]

[oh.... no he hates the "dad" voice the "dad" voice is the worst

but it successfully gets him to stop trying to shove pastries at him for a moment, even if he's still holding one out kind of hopefully. but, first things first:]

Why do you keep calling me by that name?

[godcomplexed]

Because that's...

[Wait Charles doesn't know his own name... That's definitely not a good sign.]

...What do you think your name is?

[desepanouir]

[he's giving the Doctor a concerned look.]

Have you really forgotten my name? [his skewed memories tell him it probably has something to do with Mayfield, and he reaches out to give the Doctor a pat on his arm. poor guy probably got caught up in whatever shenanigans were going on...]

It's Carl.

[godcomplexed]

No.

Haven't forgotten.

Just had a bit of brain slip. Happens when you get old, you know.

[desepanouir]

You aren't that old! [oh, selective memory. he's put the pastry back in his bag, at least, and is standing on his toes so he can more effectively cling to the Doctor's arm.]

If you won't have a pastry, will you go to eat something else?

never got a notif for this THANKS DREAMWIDTH :|

[godcomplexed]

...What if we have some tea together? Tea always hits the spot.

dreamwidth stop getting between me and my moe threads!!

[desepanouir]

[yeah he has to think that over for all of .5 seconds]

Yes, please. That sounds very nice.

[godcomplexed]

[The Doctor turns on his heel and walks into the room and starts bustling about making tea. Which obviously involves a lot of dropping and banging into things.

This whole thing with Charles er... Carl, is very distracting.]

[desepanouir]

[follows after, of course...! and wow he looks more concerned with each passing moment. he picks a few of the dropped items up, but after the third or fourth time the Doctor crashes into something, his brow furrows.]

Are you all right? Maybe you should sit... [there is a mildly judgmental expression beneath the worry; something that probably looks more at home on his face, considering how often his older self uses it.]

[godcomplexed]

It's just tea. I'm fine.

[And he manages to get two hot cups set on the table in a few minutes. Only spilled a bit too.

So now he'll observe Charles carefully.]

[desepanouir]

[he almost didn't think you would make it there, Doctor...! but he picks up one of the two cups, waiting for some of the heat to leave before taking a small sip.

and then he just... watches the Doctor watching him for a moment, before piping up.]

Is something wrong?

[godcomplexed]

Everything is fine.

Well, aside from being in Mayfield. But that's a daily battle.