Fic: Flavours future and past (classic!Who)
Title: Flavours future and past
Author: flowsoffire
Fandom: Doctor Who (1963)
Pairing/characters: Ian/Barbara
Genre: Romance
Rating: K
Word count: c. 450
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Summary: After danger and alarm, Ian and Barbara enjoy a moment of leisure.
Author's note: Here is another Ian/Barbara drabble, because I love those two-written for the prompt "Pleasure" on who-contest. Set by the end of the episode The Romans, about 450 words. Enjoy!
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The grape bursts inside her mouth, tangy sweet and acidic.
Barbara closes her eyes and slumps over the couch. For a handful of seconds her world is made of nothing but weary limbs resting there against soft pillows and the flavour flooding her taste buds, simple and heavenly. Then she hears laughter, and feels a prod at her shoulder.
She deigns to lift one eyelid. Ian is standing over her, towering from his height. From her reclined position, she can see mussed hair, the gleam of his eye, the arching curve of his grin. He is smirking at her.
"What is it?" she asks. "Have we not earned a small rest, don’t you think?"
"Oh, we most certainly have," he replies. "I was just thinking you looked remarkably like a cat, basking in the sunlight. I guess I found that entertaining."
"Cats do not eat grapes, mister Chesterton," she quips back. Her wit has known better days for sure, but she is much too tired to care. He chuckles anyhow, and Barbara reaches out a hand and drags him down beside her.
He does not resist; he pushes his own couch closer, in fact, smiling wider still, flushed and happy. She likes that messy look on him; it fits the person he is, smart and down-to-earth teacher, yet with a certain partiality for adventure. They are in this together, for the joys and the struggles; today has more than demonstrated that. The idea is obvious in her mind, radiant on her face apparently, for Ian raises an eyebrow.
"Now what are you beaming about?" he asks, tone dropping into a pitch fit for secrets. She only chuckles again. Doesn’t he know?
"Why, nothing." She plucks another grape and feeds it to him. Obedient, he takes the fruit and pauses in speech to enjoy her gift; she watches it slip between his lips from her fingers, imagines the popping of the peel and the cool spray of juice across his tongue. They both smile wider, like a pair of goofy fools.
"All right, then," he says, content. Casually, he catches her hand before it retreats. "That was what Rome was supposed to be all about, you know," he carries on. "Leisure, pleasure."
"I know."
"Well, it was not so bad. In the end, that is."
"Ian."
"Yes?"
"Be quiet."
She likes it when he obeys her like that. She likes reaching out easily with her free hand and drawing him closer to her against the pillow, motion slow and sure as he stretches towards and hovers over her. She likes the smile and the eyes and the flush of his cheeks and the taste of grapes, tangy sweet upon his tongue.
Dimly, she hopes the Doctor and Vicki will stay gone for just a little longer as she savours her bubble of bliss.
Author: flowsoffire
Fandom: Doctor Who (1963)
Pairing/characters: Ian/Barbara
Genre: Romance
Rating: K
Word count: c. 450
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Summary: After danger and alarm, Ian and Barbara enjoy a moment of leisure.
Author's note: Here is another Ian/Barbara drabble, because I love those two-written for the prompt "Pleasure" on who-contest. Set by the end of the episode The Romans, about 450 words. Enjoy!
*************************************************************************************************
The grape bursts inside her mouth, tangy sweet and acidic.
Barbara closes her eyes and slumps over the couch. For a handful of seconds her world is made of nothing but weary limbs resting there against soft pillows and the flavour flooding her taste buds, simple and heavenly. Then she hears laughter, and feels a prod at her shoulder.
She deigns to lift one eyelid. Ian is standing over her, towering from his height. From her reclined position, she can see mussed hair, the gleam of his eye, the arching curve of his grin. He is smirking at her.
"What is it?" she asks. "Have we not earned a small rest, don’t you think?"
"Oh, we most certainly have," he replies. "I was just thinking you looked remarkably like a cat, basking in the sunlight. I guess I found that entertaining."
"Cats do not eat grapes, mister Chesterton," she quips back. Her wit has known better days for sure, but she is much too tired to care. He chuckles anyhow, and Barbara reaches out a hand and drags him down beside her.
He does not resist; he pushes his own couch closer, in fact, smiling wider still, flushed and happy. She likes that messy look on him; it fits the person he is, smart and down-to-earth teacher, yet with a certain partiality for adventure. They are in this together, for the joys and the struggles; today has more than demonstrated that. The idea is obvious in her mind, radiant on her face apparently, for Ian raises an eyebrow.
"Now what are you beaming about?" he asks, tone dropping into a pitch fit for secrets. She only chuckles again. Doesn’t he know?
"Why, nothing." She plucks another grape and feeds it to him. Obedient, he takes the fruit and pauses in speech to enjoy her gift; she watches it slip between his lips from her fingers, imagines the popping of the peel and the cool spray of juice across his tongue. They both smile wider, like a pair of goofy fools.
"All right, then," he says, content. Casually, he catches her hand before it retreats. "That was what Rome was supposed to be all about, you know," he carries on. "Leisure, pleasure."
"I know."
"Well, it was not so bad. In the end, that is."
"Ian."
"Yes?"
"Be quiet."
She likes it when he obeys her like that. She likes reaching out easily with her free hand and drawing him closer to her against the pillow, motion slow and sure as he stretches towards and hovers over her. She likes the smile and the eyes and the flush of his cheeks and the taste of grapes, tangy sweet upon his tongue.
Dimly, she hopes the Doctor and Vicki will stay gone for just a little longer as she savours her bubble of bliss.