windstorms rattling: doctor who drabbles
and when we slow down
doctor who, ten/rose, crayons. 129 words, for pastrypack.
TARDIS seems to be more like home when it’s empty.
He finds little things here and there, a jumper, a sock, a random crayon. Things completely Rose that are irreplaceable and standing still.
He stays away from Rose’s room out of proper respect for the living that’s been branded as the dead- and really, it’ll work itself out in his head when it’s time. Time, time, oh, time is like an orchestrated path of gold (Rose’s voice chimes in here get to it, all right?) and yes, the metaphor’s died. But he’s bitter and has been bitter for years.
He’s cared for them all, but Rose colored a different part of him all together. And it here it dims into gray.
He’s got the time. He doesn’t want it.
men and monkeys
doctor who, ten/rose, all work and no play. 126 words, for goldy_dollar.
“I’m going to watch the match.”
She blinks, staring up at him as her magazine falls into her lap. She tucks her legs underneath her.
“Wha-”
The doctor’s covered in blue and a soft giggle slips from her lips as her hand rises to cover her mouth.
“You and Mickey need to stop spending time together,” she manages, shaking her head in amusement.
His brow furrows and he slips in the seat across from her, waiting for her to explain. She breathes because her laughter is rising.
“But I thought,” he begins, “you wanted us to get on well.”
Her lips curl and she softens, wishing for a camera. “I did. But you’re wearing the wrong colors.”
He growls. And she lets her laughter slip delightedly.
doctor who, ten/rose, crayons. 129 words, for pastrypack.
TARDIS seems to be more like home when it’s empty.
He finds little things here and there, a jumper, a sock, a random crayon. Things completely Rose that are irreplaceable and standing still.
He stays away from Rose’s room out of proper respect for the living that’s been branded as the dead- and really, it’ll work itself out in his head when it’s time. Time, time, oh, time is like an orchestrated path of gold (Rose’s voice chimes in here get to it, all right?) and yes, the metaphor’s died. But he’s bitter and has been bitter for years.
He’s cared for them all, but Rose colored a different part of him all together. And it here it dims into gray.
He’s got the time. He doesn’t want it.
men and monkeys
doctor who, ten/rose, all work and no play. 126 words, for goldy_dollar.
“I’m going to watch the match.”
She blinks, staring up at him as her magazine falls into her lap. She tucks her legs underneath her.
“Wha-”
The doctor’s covered in blue and a soft giggle slips from her lips as her hand rises to cover her mouth.
“You and Mickey need to stop spending time together,” she manages, shaking her head in amusement.
His brow furrows and he slips in the seat across from her, waiting for her to explain. She breathes because her laughter is rising.
“But I thought,” he begins, “you wanted us to get on well.”
Her lips curl and she softens, wishing for a camera. “I did. But you’re wearing the wrong colors.”
He growls. And she lets her laughter slip delightedly.