Got bored.

Disclaimer: If I owned Doctor Who, wouldn't I have better things to do than sit here writing about the Doctor's cat?

Blame: Capemaynuts.


Something was wrong with the TARDIS.

The Doctor had tried twice to go to Typtha in 2.7/Tree/19, and both times the TARDIS had missed the mark by millennia as well as light-centuries, sulkily landing on the least hospitable moon orbiting Jupiter and refusing to move from that point.

He thought it was a malfunction, so naturally he spent several hours under the grating, poking at the mess of wires under the console while Martha sat in the chair and absently flipped through the first book she had found which looked even vaguely interesting, Kyle purring complacently beside her.

The Doctor checked a third time and found no fault.

He checked the circuit which would find a fault. There was no fault with that either.

He checked the circuit which would find a fault in the circuit which would find a fault. And that was faultless as well.

Exasperated, he hit the console, which beeped sulkily and electrocuted his hand.

"What's wrong with you?" he snapped before petulantly sucking on the finger which had taken most of the shock.

The console beeped again.

"I thought you liked Kyle!"

Martha rolled her eyes and turned the page. Kyle grinned.

The nearest circuit sparked violently and the Doctor jumped away with a startled yelp. "But..." he protested, before his expression cleared and he poked his head up above the grating.

"Martha, did you empty Kyle's litter box?"

Martha removed her eyes from the book to give him a look which would have made an Arcturan MegaLion turn tail and flee, whimpering, up the nearest Arcturan MegaTree. Unfortunately, the Doctor was not an Arcturan MegaLion and was sadly clueless when it came to looks of pure evil.

"Nope," she said, and looked back at the book.

"It was your turn," said the Doctor petulantly.

"Doctor, I don't have a turn," she sighed.

Kyle closed his eyes, front legs tucked neatly against his body, and carried on purring.

He paused. "Really?"


He paused again, then grinned. "Would you like one?"

She gave him an exasperated look. "I don't like cats, and Kyle's yours anyway," she said snappishly before turning back to her book.

Kyle opened his eyes with an expression of pure shock, as if to say, "How could you possibly not like cats?"

The Doctor looked surprised. "No, he isn't."

"Well, whoever's he is, he's not mine."

"He's Rose's," the Doctor said decisively.

"And I'm not Rose. Or her clone, or her replacement, or anything having to do with her," Martha snapped.

Kyle glared at her and jumped off the seat, tail flicking irritably as he went to the Doctor, who obediently started petting him.

The Doctor winced, reluctantly accepting that there was now no chance to get Martha to do anything regarding Kyle and wondering, not for the first time, why in Rassilon's name the girl was so defensive whenever the subject of Rose came up. He knew she fancied him, but...

The TARDIS dimmed her lights warningly, electricity humming through the wires surrounding the hapless Time Lord.

"All right, I'm going," yelped the Doctor as he scrambled out of the floor. "I still say you should have a turn," he added sulkily as he stalked away, Kyle in tow.

The cat in question gave Martha a dismissive flick of his tail as he vanished into the darkness of the corridor.


Hold on, hold on... -thinks- Nope, still bored. Maybe I should watch Partners in Crime for the fourth time. :D

Ooh, look, that rhymed. O.O RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! I'M WRITING POETRY!!