“Right, now smile for the camera,” whispered Peri, adjusting her corsage. “Remember, happy couple.”
“Oh come now, surely that’s not really pretend, is it?” protested the Doctor.
In all honestly, Peri was simply relieved she had convinced the Doctor that a change of wardrobe would help them blend into the crowd at Jefferson High’s 1978 senior prom, and had wrangled him into a near-flattering suit for at least long enough for them to locate the alien consciousness’ nest and evict it from their dimension without disturbing the teenage revellers.
“Just keep those hands where I can see ‘em, mister,” smirked Peri. “Whatever the other kids might have thought when I was in high school, Perpugilliam Brown isn’t one to get up to any sort of funny business just because it’s prom night.”
“What, no funny business at all?” asked the Doctor, with pantomime dejection.
“Well,” sighed Peri. “You are looking pretty… dapper, Doctor. Tell you what: if you play your cards right, and we manage to thwart this infestation without losing our heads in the process, things might well get downright hilarious before the night is through.”
For that 30-day OTP (or every badass twosome I can think of) challenge: On a date