Disclaimer: I do not own anything at all here. Not a sausage. (Is it only me that fancies sausages now?)
A/N: I asked tardis-mole for a prompt for their birthday fic, and this is the result; a fic where the Duplicate Doctor is called Half Ten, and this romantic scenario.
Computer Says "No"
Donna had smirked at him in that way he had quickly become accustomed to. "Come on, Half Ten," she encouraged him as they entered the kitchen.
"Half Ten?" he had queried, the name sounding weird to his ear.
"Yes, Half Ten," she had confirmed. "You are half the tenth Doctor and a quarter to Donna." She had then laughed heartily at her own joke.
He had thought carefully about that, and wasn't quite so sure about being called a time. What if everyone who asked the time found him responding like Pavlov's dogs? Except he wouldn't be salivating, unless dinner was involved somehow.
Anyway, that was how he came to refer to himself as Half Ten in his mind; not that he used it verbally to other people. To them he still used the name 'Doctor'. It sounded homely, like wrapping himself in a familiar blanket; and not a baby blankie, as Donna had teased him when he had admitted to her why he didn't want to think up a different name! The minx! Although he hadn't minded being her joke target during the little time they had spent together, because that had been very familiar too.
The Duplicate Doctor sighed. As it was, he didn't remember much about Donna or his short life onboard the TARDIS, but there were still snippets and impressions left in his mind. If only he could find her to ask about his present problem. He was sure she could come up with a suitable solution. The woman he was sitting with eyed him suspiciously and tossed her long blonde hair defiantly over her shoulder. Oh dear! He had upset her again, and couldn't seem to stop doing so.
As he considered his options he happened to glance at an abandoned newspaper lying on the bench nearest to him. The date stated it was May. Strange that; he could have sworn it was November. Did people tend to leave newspapers laying around for that long? Struggling to get his thoughts back on track, because, let's face it, since coming to this universe he had had numerous problems thinking and recalling information, he forced his attention to return to his attractive companion.
In a vain attempt to win her round, he smiled sweetly before taking a sip from his cup of tea. She merely scowled back at him. It didn't help that the tea was atrocious! Talk about offend your taste buds. "Perhaps I should have had a banana milkshake," he commented to fill the air between them.
"Not all tea is like this then?" she asked with reluctant interest.
"No, I should have chosen a proper tearoom rather than McDonalds," he replied, trying not to act too eager now that she had decided to talk to him again.
She looked around the McDonalds restaurant that they sat in with renewed interest. "Why did you choose this place?"
"Because it's a safe place for…" It was on the tip of his tongue to state that it was somewhere safe that you took someone on a date; but he was having problems with that aspect of their relationship. "…bringing a family," he lamely finished. But it got a slight smile, so he felt he was winning.
Boosted up by this, he leant forward and placed a hand over hers. "You look beautiful when you smile," he complimented her, using his widest grin.
"Do I?" she wondered. "More than my mother?"
"I'm sure you are," he readily answered, although he couldn't be sure of that in the slightest. All he was certain of was the fact he fancied this woman rotten and was almost prepared to say anything to attract her interest.
She merely tilted her head to the side, like a little confused puppy, causing her hair to swish around her throat in a delectable way. It took a lot of effort on his part not to reach out and tenderly caress her cheek. The expression on her face stopped him doing that.
In a sudden panic he realised that he not only couldn't remember who her mother could possibly be, he couldn't even remember her name! Oh dear. How shaming was that?!
And he wished she would stop swivelling her body about or pressing her chest forward as she indignantly huffed at him. Her aroma was if all his Christmases had come at once, making him positively drool. But that wasn't her only attractive quality; oh no. She had a slim, petite body, small pert breasts, long blonde hair that was currently tied back from covering her face; and those eyes… He really wished she would stop flashing those gorgeous intelligent eyes at him, because it was starting to drive him crazy with desire! Not that he even remembered having much call to feel desire in the past. Perhaps he had been living as a monk? It was possible, he supposed. It was all so dark and hazy in his mind. In hindsight it was amazing he had managed to cling onto that small memory with Donna. Or the other main memory of stealing something as he left the TARDIS that easily tied around his wrist and aided his travel plans. Now, what had he taken?
Half Ten was brought out of his revelry by the voice of the woman sitting patiently beside him, and her loveliness made him practically swoon.
"Thank you," she mumbled, and modestly dipped her head as though she wasn't used to such things being said to her.
In a time-honoured fashion, he held out his hand to her in invitation. "Why don't you come with me, and we can get to know each other more intimately," he crooned, using his suave voice. When she didn't immediately take the offered hand, but frowned at him in confusion, he added, "Come on. What do you say, erm…? Sorry, I've forgotten your name."
If looks could kill he would have been stone dead in that second! She flashed her icy blue eyes at him and tightly informed him, "My name is Jenny, Dad."
Dad?! Dad! Jenny. She was Jenny! He was actually sitting next to his Jenny; or their Jenny, depending on how you wanting to view it. And he had been trying to… Ooh er!
"Jenny," he murmured, and promptly slid off his seat and onto the floor in a faint.