I'm not referring to that chair from Midnight: that was just a meaningless fling. No, I'm talking about a lasting, canonically-supported affection, stretching across multiple series, but which has sadly been neglected by fanfiction. That is, until now.
Title: Passion in Store
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Little Shop
Rating: PG-13 for appalling double entendres
Notes: 500 words. Written for whoniverse1000
Summary: The Doctor spends some quality time with a very special friend.
* * * * *
"I'd have a shop. Not a big one - just a shop." - The Doctor, New Earth
The moment that he stood in her doorway and clicked his fingers, she knew he was the one. She'd never opened up for someone like this before.
Like him, she had many faces -- some stylish, some shabby, some eccentric, all different -- and yet they always recognized each other. There were others, of course, fly-by-nights who took what she had to offer and left her with nothing but a damp wad of notes, but that was just business. He was more than passing trade.
They never needed names. To her, he was simply the Customer, and she was his Store.
It began, as it always did, with some nonchalant browsing. Already her empty counter ached to be filled with reckless purchases, but she knew he would take his time, slowly stocktaking, preparing both of them for the most intimate of transactions.
Her display cases sparkled, drawing his eye to her special offers. "You saucy thing," he said. "Are you flashing your knick-knacks at me?" As his fingers flicked through her magazines, she almost shivered. "Nice rack," he murmured.
How she longed to give him the hard sell! To the rest of the universe, he might pretend that this sort of distracting human activity was beneath him, but she knew better. It was the old story: she was a hot piece of retail space, his pockets were bulging with legal tender, and she wanted him to spend it all over her.
"This is brilliant," he breathed, fondling a shiny trinket. "I want this, and one of these, and four of those. I can't stop myself. You're irresistible..."
Suddenly he could hold back no longer. His hands grabbed hungrily at her stock, shaking her snowglobes and stroking her souvenirs, rifling through her drawers and rummaging in her bargain bin. She'd never felt so completely plundered. It was thrilling to watch him serving himself, knowing he had needs that only she could satisfy.
There was no mistaking it, he was bracing himself for a huge splurge. Flushed and panting, he unloaded his full basket all over her countertop and groped shamelessly in his pockets for his wherewithal. Her cash register rang again and again as he thrust load after load of alien loose change deep inside it. Filled almost to bursting with his liquid assets, she positively pulsed with pleasure. The receipt of love was sweet, and very, very long.
A loud squeal shattered their idyll. Dishevelled, sweaty and tangled in yards of till roll, the Doctor looked up from the cash desk where he lay sprawled to find Donna gawping at him. "We are never," she said through gritted teeth, "coming to Starbase Shopping City again, do you hear me?"
As he was dragged away, the Doctor pressed his face longingly against the window, leaving tongue marks on the glass. Her entrance still tingling from his swift withdrawal, the shop was alone once more.
Never knowing when they would meet again was painful. But having the CCTV footage to remember him by? Priceless...
(thank you for your custom, please call again)