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13 March 2012 @ 01:01 am
Fic: ‘Her red boots.’  
Title: Her red boots.
Fandom: Doctor Who.
Rating: (G)
Time Period: Sometime at the end of season 6.
Summary: He’s not a taxi service.

Author's Note: This is quick ‘n’ dirty (for definition see the F. A. Q.).

What came before:
The boots you want
What she wants

This follows on from What she wants.

All characters contained herein are the intellectual property of the BBC & Steven Moffat; I am not affiliated with nor endorsed by them.


A pair of red – if such an inadequate description could be used to describe such shoes, he thought – pumps land on the console. He looks up, surprise plainly seen by the blonde, cork-screw haired woman.

She smiles. He thinks of the Cheshire Cat; he really needs to pay Lewis a visit, he thinks.

“Hello sweetie.” She sits, hands in her lap.

He picks up the shoes carefully; they could explode, he thinks, at any moment. “You can’t leave your stuff about my TARDIS!”

“They are not stuff,” she replies, leaning back in the chair. “They’re Louboutins, not stuff.”

“I don’t care what they are!” He holds them, now, by the slender heels. “You can’t leave them anywhere you want!”

She laughs – she can’t help it – and her smile widens. “Well, sweetie, they’re not going to stay here.”

“I’m not Santa Claus.” He briefly pauses. “I don’t have the belly.”

She almost purrs with laughter and shakes her head. “No,” she agrees. “No you don’t. They’re,” she gestures at the shoes, “need to be taken to me. Make me think they’re a gift.”

“Excuse me?”

“Make me think they’re a gift from you,” she nonchalantly twirls a hand at the wrist. “I wear them,” she continues, “on the Byzantium.”


“They’re my red boots.”

He frowns.

“Mummy – Amy,” she adds, “wants – wanted – me to have red boots when I was small. I had red boots as Mels,” the corners of her lips slightly curve upward, “but this is different. These are my red boots.”

He looks at her, his eyes unmoving for several moments. “She won’t know.”

“Not until later. If I’m lucky. Rory,” she adds, “approves.”

“Just this once,” he tells her. “I’m not a taxi service.”

She grins, almost purring in her amusement. “Oh, sweetie,” she shakes her head. “You say that every time.”

And, he sighs to himself, he never listens to himself when he says it.
     Mandy: Eleven - Mr&Mrs Smitha_phoenixdragon on March 12th, 2012 09:32 pm (UTC)

F. J.: Lantern & Candles: Warmmorethanacandle on March 13th, 2012 05:22 pm (UTC)
Thank you very much!
Armchair DM: Matt's Cats: New Toy!armchairdm on March 13th, 2012 11:13 am (UTC)
*snickers* This adds to the thing that Doc11 has going of blending old and new. The name dropping makes me think Pertwee; but the timey wimey wibbly wobbliness of delivering the red boots she wears on the Byzantium makes me think Matt! Glorious.
F. J.: Lanterns: Warmmorethanacandle on March 13th, 2012 05:24 pm (UTC)
Thank you very much, especially as I couldn't resist that name-dropping!

As a sidenote, they're not 'red boots' but Louboutin.
Mae: 11 is a badassmae_linda on May 3rd, 2013 02:06 pm (UTC)
Oh wow! Verrry cool! *bounce*
F. J.: Golden Candlesmorethanacandle on May 3rd, 2013 02:29 pm (UTC)
Thank you very much!