Title:  Marathoning
Chapter:  Supernatural (2)
Characters:  The Doctor (10), Faith
Summary:  THe Dotor and Faith enjoy another of Faith's favorite shows.  Which is also a favorite of Jacks, for obvious aesthetic reasons.
Disclaimer:  Faith is mine; The Doctor belongs to BBC.
Author's Note:  I was planning on doing more Joss shows first, but there was a line in an episode of this show that begged to be ficced.  I wrote this a while ago and just discovered I'd never posted it here.  D'oh!  Also, Tennant has avowed his love for Whedon and Whedon has avowed his love of Doctor Who and wanting to write an episode AND WOULD MY FANDOMS PLEASE STOP INTERSECTING AND MAKING MY HEAD EXPLODE?!?!!?!?!?!?!


Firefly (1)

Supernatural

Faith snorted. 

“Chisel chest,” she repeated, laughing.

“Now what are you watching?” the Doctor asked, hopping over the back of the couch and landing beside her.

Faith sighed and paused the DVD. “Supernatural.”

“Is this another show by that Whedon bloke? I like him.”

Faith rolled her eyes and pulled the end of her blanket out from under him. “No. It’s a show about demon hunting brothers who just happen to be spectacularly hot.”

“Sounds like a flimsy premise.”

“Says the man who watches The Adventures of Brisco County, Jr. for the political subtext.”

“That is a brilliant show. Bruce Campbell is a genius.”

“Agreed. Nice bloke, too. I met him at a book signing. He told me to give him some sugar.”

“And did you?”

“A lady never tells,” she said, throwing popcorn at him.

“So, what are these ‘spectacularly hot’ brothers up to here?”

“Their usual: trying to send the demons back to hell so they’ll stop killing humans.”

“And why are they doing that?” he asked, putting on his glasses.

Faith sighed and pushed a button on the DVD player.

“What are you doing?”

“Get comfy. We’re starting from the beginning,” she replied.

“Marathoning again?” he asked joyfully.

“Mm-hmm,” she said, stretching out on the sofa, her legs across his lap.

****

“You know, Dean’s ‘Don’t make me kill you’ look is almost identical to yours,” the Doctor said three episodes later.

“Mm-hm.”

He turned his head to look at her. He had made several comments over the past two hours, and all she ever said in reply was, “Mm-hm.”

“Are you even listening to me?” he asked.

“Partly. I’m mostly watching the hotness and picturing myself taking advantage of it.”

“Oh,” the Doctor said, shifting uncomfortably.

She laughed. “Relax, Doc. I’m kidding.” She shrugged. “Mostly.” She shook her head. “Not really.”

He rolled his eyes at her.

“Seriously, do you want to know the easiest way to make my dad’s eyes roll up in the back of his head and render his brain mush?”

“I’m not sure,” he replied warily.

She grinned evilly at him. “Suggest the possibility of a Winchester Brothers vs. Petrelli Brothers smackdown. With oil of some kind. Makes him useless for at least an hour.”

“What are Petrelli brothers?”

Faith sighed. “That’s a whole other weekend of marathoning,” she said, turning her attention back to the TV and Dean Winchester’s pouting lips.