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Of all the ways you thought today would be going- being undercover in an alien hideout on planet Earth in the year 3748AD was not one of them. Particularly because when you woke up this morning, the Doctor had promised you a picnic in the Isles with all the trappings of a good time. Wine, music, cheeses, fresh baked breads. Oh, it was going to be heaven.
You could picture it now. You nibbling on cheeses and grapes as the Doctor lay half on the blanket and half on the grass, propping himself up on his elbows and soaking in the sunlight, telling you about some sort of intergalactic muffin he’d stopped from taking over the world or something. He’d told you there’d be cliffs with views of the ocean, and you had a sneaking suspicion that the Doctor had been planning on taking you to Scotland. He’d even said he was taking you during whale season. If you were lucky you might even see a migrating pod. You’d been forced to give up this beautiful picturesque morning out… for this.
“Oh, come on now, you look great!” The Doctor stifled his laughter with an extremely fake-sounding cough. “No, really! Never better.”
You glared at the Doctor and slapped at his shoulder, delighting in the offended “Oi- that hurt!” that instantly followed. Good. You hope it hurt. You hope it made him think about his actions and regret it (as if that ever happened).
“You’ll live,” you grumbled, smoothing down the fabric of your spandex body suit. Seriously? It was 3748AD and they hadn’t found a better alternative to spandex yet? Ridiculous.
The two of you were currently undercover in an alien nest. They were posing as humans in a travelling circus. What had initially clued you into the fact that there were otherworldly beings here up to no good had been the simple fact that no matter where the circus went, people disappeared. Not just patrons, though. Workers too. Of course, this lure was far too appealing to the Doctor, and so you’d found yourself at the circus in question and examining all of your life's choices that had led you up to this. Including, of course, the close mental picturing of the morning that should have been if it weren’t for these meddling aliens.
Of course, within about ten minutes the Doctor had scanned around and discovered what the problem was. Then, he’d whipped out this fun little number for you and put himself into a far less ridiculous outfit. Sometimes you thought he did this on purpose.
In fact, you were certain he did this on purpose.
Your fun little fit was a leotard in vibrant stripes of colour winding across your form on the diagonal. It wasn’t even a rainbow. There was a brown stripe followed by a red, followed by a yellow and followed by a purple. It made no sense and was a complete eyesore. The sequins did not help. They didn’t even match the stripes they were sewn onto.
What was worse than that, though… Was the mask. Was it a mask or a hat? You weren’t sure. The only thing you were sure of was the fact that it was a fucking travesty and you did not want it on your head. A soft, fluffy thing that you were thinking was supposed to be some sort of alien giraffe? But you weren’t entirely sure on that either.
The Doctor, much to your disappointment, was not dressed in such a ridiculous fashion and was dressed up in a red coat with a black ribboned tophat. He looked, comparatively anyway, relatively normal.
There really was no need for this.
“I’m beginning to think you handed me this on purpose,” you grumbled, fiddling with the fabric. It was hot in there, and you were beginning to sweat uncomfortably.
“Me? Never!” The Doctor replied, scanning a locked door with his Sonic. You huffed as he tried his best to turn away before you saw the grin stretching out across his face and followed him in, having to lean down to get the stupid head of the giraffe thing through the doorway.
This, of course, caused the Doctor to break out into another laugh.
“Shut up, Doctor,” you said, ripping the hat off and throwing it down next to one of the crates littering the ground. The Doctor pouted, looking genuinely disappointed.
“Oh, what’d you take it off for? I thought it suited you. Very nice, that was.”
You glared, wiping the sweat off your brow and unsticking the sweaty hair from your forehead. You reached out to wipe it on him and the Doctor teetered back, doing his best to escape your fingers.
“Yeah, yeah. Laugh all you want now. Next time I’m picking the stupid costumes. Then we’ll see who’s laughing, won’t we.”
You’re pretty sure the Doctor makes a mental note to never get the two of you in a situation where costumes are required ever again.
“You’re no fun,” he grins boyishly.
“We both know that’s not true.”
He nods his head thoughtfully for a moment, before going back to scanning the room and its contents.
“Yeah- yeah, you’re right. You’re loads of fun. The best of fun! After all, who else would put that on and saunter into the belly of the beast with me, eh?”
“Who indeed,” you reply, kicking at a scrap of fabric. “Look at us go.”
Look at you go indeed.