12th Doctor/ x reader

Prompt: What happens when the Doctor decides to adjust his companion's purse using Time Lord technology?

She was exactly where she was supposed to be, just sitting in what the Doctor could only assume was a beach chair. He knew the planet was going to be dangerous (they had answered a distress call, after all), he knew there would be running and she didn't run, couldn't run (as she was wont to remind him), so he'd told her to stay put. So he was surprised, happily so, to see she'd done as she was told, for a change. She jumped out of the chair as she saw him running towards her, grabbed the chair, and threw open the doors, both of them, and quickly moved out of the way, so he wouldn't trip over her on his way to the console.

"I told you to stay where you were," he panted at her, rushing around the console, punching buttons, and throwing the lever to send the TARDIS away from there.

"I did exactly what you asked," you reply, in a mock huffy tone, but your eyes twinkle merrily.

"Then where'd you get that chair?" he asked, snorting, his voice tinged with amusement.

"I actually had this set right inside the doors, so I wouldn't have to go looking for it. I know how these things go, I didn't want to have stand the whole time," you retort, and am rewarded by his sheepish grin, which his tried to hide under some grumbling.

"I'm surprised you didn't have it in that purse of yours," he jokes, pointing to the bag that you have draped across the front of you, hanging from left to right.

"It's called an ergonomic bag, although it's essentially a purse that's supposed to be safer for your back. My mom gave me hers, and it's actually rather nice. I'm not a "girly" girl, like some, but this is one of the few things I'll carry, because I can put a lot of things in it!" you reply merrily, chuckling when he rolls his eyes at the "girly" girl remark.

"Like what? A whole catalogue of makeup?" he quipped, ignoring the glare you give him.

"Oh please, I don't use makeup but for very rare circumstances. No, I have some random things that I think I might need: sewing needles and thread, eyeglasses repair kit, a very simple, homemade medical kit, glucose tabs, and a bag of sugar, splenda, and salt/pepper packets, among other things," you reply, smirking when he raised his eyebrow at you.

"Glucose tabs?" he asks, confused.

"Oh, I'm surprised you'd never heard of them. They're sugar tablets," you start, only to be interpreted.

"Why d'you have tablets of sugar? You're already hyper as is, you don't need MORE," he claims, loudly, "attack eyebrows" threatening to "attack" his hairline, as he guffaws.

"Hey, no. They're for people who are diabetic, which my mom was, and other friends too. So I started keeping some, and other things. I have a knife, too, because one never knows. Oh, and a multitool, which had been a huge help," you reply, smiling as he rolls his eyes, again.

"Fine, you carry almost everything in your bag. What's the point?" he asks, as a way to hide the smile he can't help but have around you; he always found you interesting, but didn't feel like telling you. It wouldn't do, might give you a bit if a complex, he tells himself, even if he's secretly proud of you, for a human.

"MacGuyver," you say succinctly, smiling proudly, hiding your smirk at his confusion.

"Huh?" he asks.

"Long story short, he's a TV character that specialized on solving solutions with limited resources. Kind of like you, come to think of it," you reply, tilting your head slightly as you look up at him. He smiles, and turns to look at the console, hiding the slight blush that creeps across his face.

"So you've a bag of preparation," he quips with a smirk, pretending not to notice the big grin that shines brightly on your face.

"Yep. I call it my bag of holding," you tell him, a s giggle when he looks at you sideways, like he's not quite sure how to respond to that.

"It's a D reference, dungeons and dragons, which is a tabletop role playing game. Long story. The bag is a magical item that allows you to place a certain amount of weight in it, to help you carry more items without intruding on your carry weight ability. It's complicated..." explain, and shrug. But when you look up at him, you're surprised that he looks... Almost intrigued, like as though he's not only understanding, but is planning something.

"Uh oh, I know that look," you say to him, as he starts pacing around the console. He starts mumbling to himself, hands in his jacket pockets, pacing around the console. You know he'll be like that for a while, so you decide to amble off to the kitchen; tea and biscuits are calling. _

When the Doctor presents you with a wrapped box, you should be wary, but pretend it's so sweet he gave you a gift, no matter what. So when, two days later, he hands you a wrapped box, you take it gingerly, raising an eyebrow in confusion, and a little worry.

"I made you something," he says softly, smiling just as softly. It's sweet, but the exploding glitter bomb you got last time (which he claims wasn't your gift, even though he was laughing, until he realized how pervasive glitter actually was) has made you very wary. You carefully unwrap it, and open the box... To a rather ordinary, black leather something nestled inside. You take it out, and are surprised to find it's a bag, shaped exactly like the ergonomic bag you've got in your room, just black colored, and made of heavy leather.

"I didn't know you knew how to work leather," you manage to say, looking over the bag with admiration.

"I didn't either, actually. Not as easy as it looks, but not as hard as I expected. Do you like it?" he asks, watching you checking out all the various pockets he'd added to the bag.

"It's beautiful. I love it, thank you!" you say, hugging him tightly, causing him to shift slightly, unprepared for the hug, but still returns the hug, his smile lighting up his eyes.

"Sturdier than my current one, and it's in my second favorite color," you say, smiling brightly up at him.

"Second favorite? What's the first?" he asks, sounding a little disappointed, even slightly annoyed.

"Purple. But I know how difficult it is to dye leather properly. Besides, black goes with everything, and is easier to hide than anything else," you tell him, and smile at him, hoping he understands that you didn't mean to upset him. He merely grumbles, and starts to turn away, when you reach up and gently kiss his cheek.

"I'm going to go pack it up!" you say to him as you head to your room. You don't see him reach up to touch his cheek, a slow, genuine smile spreading over his face. _

"Ok, I know I put my multitool in here, where is it?" you mutter, digging around in your bag. It's been a week, and you still have trouble finding the things you put in the bag, but you're afraid to tell him, not wanting to appear ungrateful.

"Loose something?" he asks, his Scottish brogue heavy today, for some unknown reason.

"Just my multitool," you reply, and growl softly to yourself, earning a snicker from him; after the first time you started growling and hissing like a cat, he admitted it was a little cute, so you made sure to do so more often than normal.

"Just think about it, and it'll show up," he starts, then backs well away from your kicking area as you glare angrily up at him.

"What do you THINK I've been doing? Thinking about my car keys?" you ask testily, too annoyed to be amused by the wide-eyed look of almost faint horror he gives you; he got kicked by you once, he doesn't want to experience that again, even if the first time was a pure accident.

"[Y/N, it's a bag made with Time Lord technology, just like my jacket. You know, bigger in the inside," he explains, hands up, palms out, hoping to mollify you; it almost works, although you almost want to throw the bag at his smug face. At that point, you find the multitool, and growl up at him.

"And you chose not to tell me this, because...?" you ask, voice dark and angry.

"I.. uh.. hoped to surprise you? I figured you'd figure it out in your own," he says, a little testily. Your only reply is an angry snort, but you zip up your bag, taking it with you as you storm back to your room.

"Was it something I said?" he asks out loud, with only the TARDIS to hear. _

"Just how many first aid kits do you need?" the Doctor asks angrily, stressing out over the increasingly perilous situation you find yourselves in.

"I have two, the small one was my original one, thank you very much," you reply, then find the one item you were looking for: a folding ladder. You hand that to him, and almost giggle at the incredulous look he gives you.

"No time, go!" you say, pointing the opposite direction you were headed. Rolling his eyes, he takes off running, leaving you to look awkwardly after him. You know he's always amused at the new, random things you started storing in your bag, just as you know he'd never tell you that he's secretly pleased that you always try to plan for the worst. It has saved you both plenty of times in the last two months, and you give another silent thank you to him, for giving you a proper bag of holding.