Imagines and Preferences: Book 1

I Look Fabulous | Eleventh Doctor

I feel like this imagine is a bit cringe-y, I'm not gonna lie. Oh, well.

Summary: You enter the TARDIS for the first time and the Doctor expresses his love for fezzes.

QOTP: Would you ever wear a fez?

Word Count: 856

"Go on, say it," he says, leaning against the console. Standing in the TARDIS control room for the first time, you look around the space, curiosity and wonder evident in your eyes.

"Well the inside isn't very proportionate to the outside," you comment, still looking around at the walls and trying to figure out how any of it was possible. You walk around the console, observing the controls and lights.

"That's new," he laughs.

"You said you were a doctor," you look up at him from the other side of the console, "but this doesn't look much like a doctor's office."

He laughs, noticing your sarcasm, "I said the Doctor, not a doctor. There's a difference."

"Which is?"

"I'm a Time Lord."

"That tells me everything I need to know, thanks."

"I thought you already knew everything you needed to know, considering you walked into a box with a strange man."

"This is too extravagant, not to mention impossible, for an ordinary ax murderer... or something to put together just for whatever it is they're trying to accomplish."

"Ax murderer?!"

You ignore his half-amused, half-shocked exclamation.

"If I were going to commit such crimes, I'd commit them in an unnoticeable area. A blue police box in the middle of the street isn't very inconspicuous, whether everybody thinks it's just a box or not. I mean, it's got 'police' written all over it."

He laughs at your joke, walking around the console to stand beside you.

"Besides," you add, "if you created this whole thing just to murder people, I'd guess you'd be smart a bloke. And the smart thing for someone to do if they were in your position would have been to murder me while we were saving London, fix the whole alien invasion thing, and make the murder look like I was another casualty in the invasion. You're definitely not a murderer. And if you are, you're a really dumb one."

He laughs, then turned around, facing the console. "Very smart."

You shrug, "I watch a lot of Sherlock."

He starts flipping switches and pressing buttons, the sleeves of his button-up rolled to his elbows.

He had left his coat at the door, revealing suspenders, and he still has his bow tie on. Only it's different from the one he was wearing yesterday.

"How many bow ties do you have?" you ask him.

He grins, "Not enough."

"You're wearing one too many," you reply, sitting on the yellow chair behind you.

He spins around and adjusts said bow tie, "Bow ties are cool." You only scoff as he goes on.You know what else is cool?"

You shrug. "What?"

"Fezzes."

"What-zes?"

"Fezzes."

"What in Washington's name is a 'fez'?"

"Washington?"

"What is a fez?"

He pulls up a photo on the TARDIS computer, finding it easier than explaining it to you. You look at the photo, "That's what those are called?" He nods, then turns back to the console. "I can't imagine you in a fez," you say a few moments later.

"We could go to a place where we can get one...?" he trails off, sitting next to you.

You look over at him, "No. Because they probably make you look like a dork."

He frowns, then stands up, "Alright, then. Where do you want to go?"

"Where can we go?"

"Anytime or place in the universe."

You sit, thinking for moment. "I wanna go to Pluto."

"Pluto?! Why Pluto?!"

"It's terribly unappreciated. I mean, just because it's small doesn't mean it's not a planet. NASA needs to stop size-shaming."

The Doctor laughs again, standing up, "Let's go then, Pluto Rights Activist."

"We PRAs take our efforts very seriously," you reply.

////

You went to Pluto where you ran into some creepy aliens and nearly died, but - safe and sound - you're back in the TARDIS.

He flips a few switches, sending you somewhere else. Your hands fly to the console to avoid crashing to the floor.

"Where are we going?!" you ask over the noise.

He smiles at you, holding the console as well, "You'll see!"

You land and he walks to the door, "Stay here."

You obey, and a few minutes later he walks back in, a fez adorning his head.

You laugh so hard, you can't breathe.

When you calm down again, you walk over and take the fez from his head, placing it on your own. "What are you doing?" he asks.

You turn, "Saving you from embarrassment; I was right - you do look like a dork."

"So do you," he replies, but he's laughing.

You turn on your heel, "I look fabulous. You're just salty because fezzes make you look like even more of a fashion disaster."

You walk to the other side of the console, the string on the hat flopping around as you do.

"I'm ready for my close-up, Vogue."