Disclaimer: This story about David Tennant and Billie Piper is entirely
fictional and is in no way meant to offend.
Summary: During the filming of the second series of Doctor Who,
Billie Piper is sent to retrieve her co-star from his nap........
He stirred slightly at the sound of his name, then turned his head
mutinously into the pillow he clutched and burrowed against it
"David." The voice was more insistent. "Get your arse up, lazy bones."
He groaned piteously, thinking dim, luscious thoughts about how
wonderful it was to be Not Moving and how welcoming this Nice Soft Bed
Feeling the edge of the bed sink under the intruder's weight, he tried
to drag his hand-quilted blanket up over his tousled head, only to have
it wrenched from his grip as the bed began to quake alarmingly.
"Come on, Teninch, me lovely," the voice insisted, laughter bubbling up
underneath. "They're ready for us onset, and you've gotta get your
pompadour seen to." There was a slight pause and then a giggle and
then, "Mind you, it probably looks bang on in character now, straight
out of bed!"
He cracked one eyelid minutely, taking in the lovely sight of his co-
star and best mate, Billie Piper, bouncing up and down on his narrow
trailer bed, trying to jostle and cajole him out of his well-earned
nap. She was grinning mischievously, her honeyed hair flouncing up and
down in the air as she bounced. Peering into her face, David saw that
she had yet to visit the make-up trailer, and quite probably was being
so insistent because she wanted him in there with her for a leisurely
That settled it, then.
Bouncing ever higher, Billie started to say, "We've gotta shift, Davy,
we're running out of ti--" She wasn't allowed to finish her
admonition, because the seemingly still inert man in the bed suddenly
surged up from his prone position and grabbed her 'round the waist,
flinging her down where he'd just lain and shoving his pillow into her
face. This was, however, merely a diversion, allowing said whip-thin
man to carry out the tickling punishment he'd justly levied for being
so rudely awakened.
"How dare you wake me, ye daft child," he thundered comically, digging
the tips of his fingers into strategic places along her sides and
stomach and grinning happily as Billie's uncontrolled laughter rang out
and echoed in the small trailer. "An' I was having a smashing dream
about haggis, as well," he interjected, and the feminine laughter
redoubled, verging on the hysterical. She batted his pillow away from
her face, and he noted that a few tears had begun to leak from her
eyes, though her face was creased only with wild merriment. "You know
you deserve this, Miss Piper," he insisted, beginning to laugh himself
as Bille tried to distract him by tickling him back. Giggling and
flinching away from her exploration at the side of his ribcage, David
decided to bring out the big guns, to end this once and for all with
his squirming friend at his mercy, unable to retaliate.
David's long fingers suddenly shot away from their former haunts and
landed firmly along her collarbone. Billie's eyes widened in
trepidation, and she tried desperately to pry his hands away, locking
her fingers around his wrists and tugging, but he was too strong. The
fingers dug into the pliant flesh behind her clavicle, and Billie was
lost, every thought apart from escape flying out of her head. As
laughter poured from her open mouth, she felt suddenly weak and
ineffectual, completely unable to fend off her co-star's attack. She
could only squirm this way and that, trying to press her shoulders up
close to her neck and deny him access.
Through a haze of tears, she could see David grinning down at her, his
brow furrowed in concentration, and she had to admit defeat.
"Alright, alright, you prat, you win!" she bellowed, but he seemed
reluctant, so she added, "Please! You're gonna make me pee all over
your mum's quilt!"
This threat was enough to make the man relent and lean back on one
elbow. They were both still grinning and panting a bit from the
exertion of the attack.
"Prat," Billie said again, scrubbing at her eyes to clear away the
tears of laughter. "'S a good thing for you, my lad, that I haven't
been to make up yet. You'd have hell to pay if you'd got me all
covered in runny mascara!" She reached out to pinch his cheek, and he
batted her hand away, wrinkling his nose.
"Your hair's all wonky," she informed him, trying to suppress her
She had no desire to be attacked again, after all.
"And here I thought my hair wasn't effected in the least by being
subjected to naptime," David said, smirking down at her, a dimple
appearing on his cheek. "Had it from a good source, in fact, though I
suppose she is a bit daft," he drawled, his accent sliding south into a
heavier brogue than he normally spoke with. He reached out one long-
fingered hand, smirking again as she flinched a bit, but he merely used
it to tuck some of her blond hair behind her ear. "Ye wee timorous
beastie," he intoned merrily, using one of his own lines from the
previous day's shooting.
"Oi!" Billie exclaimed, punching him lightly in the center of his
orange t-shirt, knocking him off his elbow and back against the wall.
"I'm neither timorous nor daft, thank you very much, and I'll stand
corrected about my former statement if you'll go look at yourself in
the mirror, mate," she said, grinning hugely.
He sighed. It must be bad, indeed. "Alright then, shift yourself,
Bill," he said, shoving at her hip to get her out of his bed. "And if
I hear even a peep of laughter out of you, I can only say that there
will be consequences, my friend," he warned, though truth to tell, he
didn't actually mind being laughed at by his best mate. If she was
happy, then so was he.
Drawing in a deep, fortifying breath, David stepped hesitantly in front
of the small mirror over his sink. It was rather bad. His fringe,
which normally stuck straight out over his forehead like the prow of a
ship, was still sticking out, but it had apparently decided that a
ninety-degree turn to the left was in order. Now, the actor loved the
world over for his portrayal of the Doctor looked as though there was a
high wind howling past his face, choosing only to catch his long fringe
in its powerful grip.
It looked very silly, so David couldn't help grinning as he swung
around to face his best mate, who was seated on the edge of his bed,
her hand clamped tightly over her mouth to hold in her silent
laughter. "Must have slept on me face," he opined, and didn't begrudge
her the helpless giggles she could no longer contain.
He reached up to try and repair the damage, but halted at Billie's
insistent, "Wait! Don't touch it, Teninch, I gotta get a snap of
As she searched her pockets frantically for her cell phone, David
thought about ignoring her order and carrying on with fixing his hair,
but then remembered that she was his best mate and subsided. It wasn't
as if she would release the picture to the press or anything, so where
was the harm in allowing her yet another ridiculous photograph of him?
So, resigned, he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets as he watched
her emerge from the depths of her parka triumphantly clutching her
He tried smiling, as one normally does when having ones picture taken,
but Billie insisted that he keep a straight face, maintaining that his
grin would distract the eye from his ridiculous hair. "An' we can't
have that, eh Davy?"
"No, no, obviously," he said, a bit sarcastically, though still trying
not to grin and ruin her picture.
She pointed the phone at his face, took careful aim, and depressed the
capture button. She then sidled up next to him, allowing him to see
his daft hair preserved for posterity--a posterity he rather hoped only
included her. He sighed again and looked down, only to find her
looking up at him with her bottom lip caught between her teeth.
"It's very attractive," he conceded, merely to hear her delighted
squeal. "Never looked better, Bills, might even start a fashion trend
with that hair," he said airily, putting his arm across her shoulders
and squeezing her affectionately to his side.
Billie briefly leant her head against his chest and wrapped her arms
around his waist, indulging in a quick cuddle, then pulled away and
grabbed his hand. "Better go, Davy. Euros'll be spittin' mad if we're
"Hold it, lassie," he commanded, pulling her back to stand in front of
him, using his free hand to smooth down her disheveled blond hair.
"Can't be goin' out there lookin' like you've just been tumbled in the
hay loft," he said smirking down at her, and was gratified when she
grinned at him, her tongue peeking out from between her teeth.
"There," he pronounced with satisfaction, "now your hair just looks its
normal, unruly self."
"Oi!" she said again, slapping his chest, then turned toward the door
and marched out of the trailer, dragging him laughing behind her.
Author's Note: So, did ya like it? One thing I like so much about those two is
their obvious friendship, so I thought a happy mates story was
in order. Feel free to tell me what you think......
Copyright: 2008 Lauren Bahr