AN: Before anyone complains on the dialogue, it's because this is based on an RP. I didn't have enough time to splice the story to make it look right. There might be some verb tense changes, especially in the next chapters, mainly because we (me and Kris) are used to writing in different tenses. Also, this isn't your regular OC-companion Doctor Who story. With that said, allons-y!
Beatrice was positively beaming, despite all the crap she'd gone through the entire day. She was walking down the hallways of the girls' dorms, a mug of self-made custard in one hand and a spoonful of said food in her mouth. She counted the doors before she reached the one she wanted to enter, which was Eris Williams' - or Pond, from the news she'd heard - dorm. She knocked four times, then put another spoonful of the dessert in her mouth.
"Arthur!" Eris shouts from her bedroom. "You should go get that."
"Tell Matt to do it!" he shouts back, and Eris faces her friend. He raises his hands in resignation and goes to open the door.
"Hi, I'm Matt Smith, and I'm assuming you're here to see my friend Eris who is currently too lazy to get —is that custard?" He looks at the cup the girl is holding with bright eyes.
The door opened, and Beatrice expected it to be the redhead, but instead was faced with a guy with floppy dark hair and non-existent eyebrows. Her mouth opens but no sound comes out for a moment. She swore the sound she heard was the sound of her head short-circuiting.
"I-uh… yeah, it's custard," she offered the mug, trying her best to regain her composure. "Want some?"
"'Want some?'" he repeats, smiling even wider. "I'd love it! I actually bought some fish fingers, and they should be here somewhere…" Matt opens the freezer and pulls out a box. "I know, it's kind of weird, but it's cool. Have you ever tried it before?"
Beatrice follows him into the room, slightly awed at how calm she was at the moment. The thoughts clouded her exterior senses, but still caught the question. "Oh yeah, Henri says it's disgusting, but I think the stuff's brilliant," she smiles (a genuine one, oh my gods), licking off the custard from the spoon.
"The Ponds don't like it either," Matt says with a grin. He cooks up the fish fingers and sets it on a plate on the kitchen table. "Take a seat."
Eris comes out of her room. "Hey, Beatrice," she greets upon seeing the girl. "Matt, not again?"
He only winks at her slyly, and she makes a face, going back inside her room.
"Call me when it's over!" she calls from the room.
"Anyway, can I have the custard now?" asks the boy.
Beatrice smiles at Eris' reaction (What the fuck, why am I so smiley tonight?) then looks back to the boy sitting down, a plate of fish fingers in front of them. "Here," she sets down the mug, then quickly takes a stick to dip in it.
Matt breaks a piece in half, dipping it into the custard and biting into it. "See? That's cool right there. Way cooler than my fez," he jokes.
She finishes off the first fish finger - do fish even have fingers? - and takes another one. "You have a fez?" she asks as she bites into her food. "You are too cool indeed," she giggles.
"Wait a moment," he says and stands up. He disappears into another room and reappears with a fez on his head. "Who da man?"
There are only a few moments in time where Beatrice stops and thinks I might like you. She grins then stands up. "Obviously," she takes the maroon hat from his head, ignoring his protests, and plops it onto hers. "I am da woman!" she exclaims, outstretching her arms.
"It looks good on you," he teases. He takes another fish finger, dips it into the custard, and licks the custard off before biting into the fish. "If I was back home, I'd say I should show you to my car. It's bigger on the inside." Matt grins at the blonde girl in front of him.
"Thanks," she almost blushes, but hides it along with her flustered face. "Really?" she puts her hands on her hips, raising her eyebrow. "How big, exactly, is your car?" then she crosses her arms on her chest, smirking then giving the strange teen a wink.
"Well," he muses, "outside it's kind of like a blue box. Oh, I just love the shade of blue it's got; the bluest of the blue. But inside! Inside it is like living in a mansion!" He makes lurid hand gestures to show his enthusiasm, and he doesn't remember the last time he's ever tried to impress a girl that wasn't Eris Pond.
"A… blue box?" both her eyebrows shoot up. "How do you drive it, exactly?" she grins, trying to imagine Matt driving a blue box to get from point A to B, and giggles. She nods as he describes the impossible blue box, avoiding the spastic, flailing limbs. She can't remember the last time someone actually put effort into helping her understand something.
"It's a small, uh, car, really. Think of a police box — actually, it is a police box. Besides, it takes a clever man to drive it, and fortunately, I am one," he adds with a smirk.
"Hm," she thinks, then remembers something like the car he drives. "Is your car like the TARDIS? Time and Relative Dimensions in Space?" I'llbesurprisedifitweren't. She smirks, then puts her hand on top of a chair's backrest.
"Yeah, you caught me," he says. "I was hoping to shock you there, though. I like surprises." He sticks his tongue out at her.
"You might not be able to tell," she sticks her tongue out as well, because they are totally five years old. "But I have a British accent, and therefore am," she sits down on the chair. "And you are not British if you don't watch Doctor Who, so there," she takes off the fez and puts it back on Matt's head. "Get with the program, Doctor!" she says with a wink.
"English? Are you really? I never would have guessed," he says dryly, crossing his arms. "If I'm the Doctor, would you like to be my companion?" He fishes his pocket for a set of keys which he then dangles in front of her. "Frequent flyer privileges."
She chuckles at his joke, eyeing the tinkling chain of metal. "Totally would, but I should tell you," she fingers a key. "I hate paradoxes and too many twists in time, they make my head hurt," she wiggles her fingers for emphasis. "Too wibbly-wobbly."
He frowns, but then brightens up again as he says, "I bet I can change your mind, yeah? Fancy a time and place?" He laughs after. "I hope that was a good way of asking you out," he blurts out.
Arthur pops his head from Eris' room and eyes the pair with surprise. "Never knew she was your type, mate."
Matt shoos him off with elaborate hand movements. "Don't eavesdrop. Now bugger off."
Beatrice was speechless for the second time that day. Matt Smith is asking me out. The. Matt. Smith. Oh my Gallifrey. "That definitely is a good way, anywhere in time and space," she gives him a fond grin. "You might just be able to, Doctor," she winks, then dabs a bit of custard on his nose.
"Oi, that's unfair," he exclaims, and dips a finger in the custard and swipes it across her cheek. "Now we match."
She opens her mouth in a surprised manner, including a gasp. "You call that matching?" She grins, then puts a streak of custard on the area of where his eyebrows were supposed to be. "Custard brows!" she laughed.
"You should see me on a full moon." He waggles his eyebrows, now dripping with custard. "I'm like a werewolf." Matt traces a line of custard on her forehead and adds a smiley face for good measure.
"A time-travelling alien and a werewolf," she gives him a flirty smile. "My, my, what has the Doctor been up to?" She couldn't keep out the purr from her voice even if she tried. She wiped the food from his cheek and sucked it off, then gave him an impish grin right after.
"A lot of things," he says, mirroring her actions. "Busy saving this universe and the next, all that." He grins and takes off his fez and puts it on Beatrice's head. "Keep it."
"Of course, having a ship that can travel through time and space has to have responsibilities," she inwardly frowns at the idea. "And I think I will keep it, thanks," she pats the top of the hat with her index finger.
"So," she exhales. "When's this so-called date you're proposing, Matt?" she cocks her head to the side, a half-smile on her face.
"I was thinking tomorrow night? Although I think it'd be romantic if I take you someplace with a little more flair? How about Venice in 1580?" He winks at her and smiles.
"Oh that'd be nice. I haven't visited Venice yet," she smiles. "Not even modern-day Venice," then she suddenly takes his hand. God, I hope this is real.
Disclaimer: Don't own Doctor Who, too timey-wimey.