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out_thereClearly, I'm not sitting here on a Saturday reading John Barrowman/David Tennant RPS. Of course I'm not. I'm definitely not reading this story and laughing fondly at the idea of them spending Boxing Day together, drinking and watching a marathon of old Dr Who episodes.
He stands and lifts the cover of a closed hanging-file cabinet. Inside there are a handful of files, a few tattered Doctor Who novels, and a thick leatherbound CD wallet. He holds it up. "Triumph."
"Oh, god, no," John says.
"In this wallet -- "
"David, you freak of nature -- "
"-- is every extant episode of Doctor Who -- "
" -- you utter bastard -- "
" -- both radio and television," David crows.
"Seriously? Doctor Who? That's what you want to spend all day watching?" John asks. "It's your job. Don't you want a vacation?"
"Nope," David says smugly. "I'd do this job for free. I'd pay to be the Doctor."
Or giggling at a made-up piece of TW-behind-the-scenes gossip...
John's eyes light up at this and he looks better; David pulls up a chair and rests his feet on the arm of the sofa as they catch up on friends, nemeses, politics, agents, casting, and the endless series of stories they both have to tell about filming. Some of them are pretty decent fare for talk shows, and some of them will never, ever see the light of day.
"So, I said to him, are you going to kiss me or not," John says, nursing his second drink. David hoots.
"What'd he say? What'd he say?"
"He said, Mr. Barrowman, I'll kiss you on set when we're supposed to but I don't think my girlfriend would approve unless I'm paid for it," John chokes out, sniggering. "Then fucking Gorman, who can't keep his mouth shut, giggles from behind the curtain and everyone starts laughing and Gareth turns this amazing shade of red..."
He stands and lifts the cover of a closed hanging-file cabinet. Inside there are a handful of files, a few tattered Doctor Who novels, and a thick leatherbound CD wallet. He holds it up. "Triumph."
"Oh, god, no," John says.
"In this wallet -- "
"David, you freak of nature -- "
"-- is every extant episode of Doctor Who -- "
" -- you utter bastard -- "
" -- both radio and television," David crows.
"Seriously? Doctor Who? That's what you want to spend all day watching?" John asks. "It's your job. Don't you want a vacation?"
"Nope," David says smugly. "I'd do this job for free. I'd pay to be the Doctor."
Or giggling at a made-up piece of TW-behind-the-scenes gossip...
John's eyes light up at this and he looks better; David pulls up a chair and rests his feet on the arm of the sofa as they catch up on friends, nemeses, politics, agents, casting, and the endless series of stories they both have to tell about filming. Some of them are pretty decent fare for talk shows, and some of them will never, ever see the light of day.
"So, I said to him, are you going to kiss me or not," John says, nursing his second drink. David hoots.
"What'd he say? What'd he say?"
"He said, Mr. Barrowman, I'll kiss you on set when we're supposed to but I don't think my girlfriend would approve unless I'm paid for it," John chokes out, sniggering. "Then fucking Gorman, who can't keep his mouth shut, giggles from behind the curtain and everyone starts laughing and Gareth turns this amazing shade of red..."
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Date: 2008-03-08 02:26 am (UTC)