Of Chips and Charles Dickens (Fic: Doctor Who, 10/R AU, Excerpt)
Title: Of Chips and Charles Dickens
Fandom(s): Doctor Who
Pairing: Ten (John Smith)/Rose; Rose/Donna and Jack/Ten friendship
Word Count: 997
Rating: T (to be safe)
Warnings: None!
Disclaimer: I don't own them! I steal them from time to time, like the Doctor stole the TARDIS.
Summary: AU. “She seems like she could be your type, Doc. Blonde. All smiles. Up for anything. And so help me God, you are going to have one night away from your books, because the boys at Torchwood’ve got a bet going that you wouldn’t show interest in a woman if she threw herself at you, and I’ve got a lot of money riding on the opposite. So I’m doing the throwing.”
Notes: I'm not sure where to start. I wrote this months ago as part of the AUs challenge for a round at doctor_rose_las and always had plans to expand it, but haven't quite gotten there yet. (It also received two positive votes and some marvelous feedback in that round; to my anonymous champions, thank you!!) The idea was to have each chapter play off of a certain letter until I reached the end of the alphabet; this was meant to be Chapter 3.
I don't quite know if I'm ever going to get to writing the full fic, but since my next piece for who_contest is set in this 'verse, I thought it would help to finally publish this one officially on my own journal. I know, it's a cliche AU idea (university; how boring!), but I wanted to try my hand at another entirely human, non-scifi idea while still keeping the characters essentially the same, if a bit fluffier.
“Come on, Doc,” Jack Harkness ordered his flatmate, going into his closet and pulling out a brown pinstriped suit and patterned blue tie, no matter how much John protested. “I am going to physically drag you away from your desk if I have to and you know it.”
“When did I ever sign up for a blind date?” John asked, still resisting, even as Jack pulled him out of his chair and away from his papers and textbooks, stuffed the pile of clothing into his arms, and started backing him towards the flat’s tiny bathroom. “Tell me, because I’d like to know! I have an incredibly important test tomorrow-”
“-and the world won’t end if you get a less-than-perfect mark on one exam, Doc,” Jack hollered back through the bathroom door as John got changed. He knew by now there was no point in resisting Jack Harkness’ wishes; men and women were powerless against them.
“Stop calling me ‘Doc,’ then,” he ordered, and he heard Jack’s snort. “If I fail this exam I might just have to give up all hopes of getting my doctorate and it’ll be your fault and the fault of this-what’s her name, anyway?”
“Rose Tyler.”
“Is she a student here?”
“No. Dropout, actually; a bit of local colour. Nineteen. Got her heart broken by some musician punk called Jimmy Stone; her best friend wants her to get over him. I volunteered you.”
“Volunteered me? Again, when did I sign up for this? And since when have you had a problem with dating nineteen-year-olds? That’s your area, not mine.”
“She seems like she could be your type, Doc. Blonde. All smiles. Up for anything. And so help me God, you are going to have one night away from your books, because the boys at Torchwood’ve got a bet going that you wouldn’t show interest in a woman if she threw herself at you, and I’ve got a lot of money riding on the opposite. So I’m doing the throwing.”
John finished tying his tie and came out of the bathroom, rummaging in his desk drawers for his pocket watch. “Rose Tyler, her name is?”
He was a bit interested. Maybe.
“Rose Tyler,” Jack confirmed, and pushed him out the door.
***
“I’m not going!”
“You’d better, because my ears are bleeding from hearing ‘Last Christmas’ for the millionth and one time,” Donna Noble said from somewhere within Rose’s closet, where she was fruitlessly searching for Rose’s left black pump. “Tonight is the last night you will mope over Jimmy Stone. You’re meeting John Smith at the corner restaurant in an hour, and that’s final.”
“And is he being forced into this, too? Who is he, anyway?”
“Jack Harkness’ flatmate,” Donna told her, naming the guy she temped for at this Torchwood place. “Studying astrophysics at uni; never steps away from his books. Jack just wants him out for the night.”
“So you’re forcing him on me?”
“You’ll like him, Rose. Smart dresser, good to chat with, has seen the world… great hair,” she added as an afterthought, finally poking her head out of the closet. “Really great hair.”
She returned victorious from the closet, holding the missing black pump aloft and pressing it into Rose’s hands with the rest of the ensemble-fitting but modest black dress, nude pantyhose, the other pump, and a knitted gray shrug. “Just give him one date; do the bloke a favor. You might like him.”
“I liked Jimmy, too, at first,” Rose reminded her, but she caved, trotting off to the bathroom to get dressed in what little time she had left. If nothing else, any flatmate of Jack Harkness’ had to be a good time.
***
When they first locked eyes, it was just a bit hard to believe.
Great hair, yeah, Rose nodded to herself. But this scrawny beanpole of a guy, dressed in a well-worn brown suit? Not quite her type. No, her type were the fun, daring guys-guys more like Jimmy, more like Jack. Maybe she was wrong-maybe Jack had a dull flatmate to keep him grounded…
John, on the other hand, could barely stop staring, and it was all he could do to keep his jaw from dropping. Jack had neglected to mention she was a veritable goddess. Her hair, so golden, was bright enough that it seemed to draw in the darkness of the night and make it just a bit brighter. And that smile… oh, he so wanted to be the cause of that smile.
She came up to him almost awkwardly, holding out a hand. “John Smith?”
“Rose Tyler. It’s a pleasure.” He shook her hand, then nodded his head to the restaurant. “Shall we go in?”
Rose gave it a look. Just a little too fancy for her-an Italian place with expensive wines and well-dressed waiters, so far from a pizzeria or a diner. She gave John a slightly apologetic look, and decided to test him-if he passed, maybe he was her type after all. “’M more of a fish and chips type of girl.”
Suddenly he smiled-a grin that filled his face, quite literally ear to ear. “I know just the place. And if we’re lucky-” he checked his fob watch “-we might get there just in time for the next showing of A Christmas Carol. What d’you say, Rose Tyler?” he asked, holding out his hand, an invitation.
She realized the corners of her mouth were twitching, enthusiasm sparking in her brain-the first real smile since Jimmy, the first real pleasure in life that she’d had in months. “I say it sounds fantastic!”
She laced her fingers in his, and John pointed down the street, bounding off, leaving her struggling to keep up a bit in her heels, and she would’ve been frustrated if she hadn’t been laughing madly in joy.
“Right, then!” John and Rose’s whoops of pleasure echoed through the London streets. “Allons-y!”
Fandom(s): Doctor Who
Pairing: Ten (John Smith)/Rose; Rose/Donna and Jack/Ten friendship
Word Count: 997
Rating: T (to be safe)
Warnings: None!
Disclaimer: I don't own them! I steal them from time to time, like the Doctor stole the TARDIS.
Summary: AU. “She seems like she could be your type, Doc. Blonde. All smiles. Up for anything. And so help me God, you are going to have one night away from your books, because the boys at Torchwood’ve got a bet going that you wouldn’t show interest in a woman if she threw herself at you, and I’ve got a lot of money riding on the opposite. So I’m doing the throwing.”
Notes: I'm not sure where to start. I wrote this months ago as part of the AUs challenge for a round at doctor_rose_las and always had plans to expand it, but haven't quite gotten there yet. (It also received two positive votes and some marvelous feedback in that round; to my anonymous champions, thank you!!) The idea was to have each chapter play off of a certain letter until I reached the end of the alphabet; this was meant to be Chapter 3.
I don't quite know if I'm ever going to get to writing the full fic, but since my next piece for who_contest is set in this 'verse, I thought it would help to finally publish this one officially on my own journal. I know, it's a cliche AU idea (university; how boring!), but I wanted to try my hand at another entirely human, non-scifi idea while still keeping the characters essentially the same, if a bit fluffier.
“Come on, Doc,” Jack Harkness ordered his flatmate, going into his closet and pulling out a brown pinstriped suit and patterned blue tie, no matter how much John protested. “I am going to physically drag you away from your desk if I have to and you know it.”
“When did I ever sign up for a blind date?” John asked, still resisting, even as Jack pulled him out of his chair and away from his papers and textbooks, stuffed the pile of clothing into his arms, and started backing him towards the flat’s tiny bathroom. “Tell me, because I’d like to know! I have an incredibly important test tomorrow-”
“-and the world won’t end if you get a less-than-perfect mark on one exam, Doc,” Jack hollered back through the bathroom door as John got changed. He knew by now there was no point in resisting Jack Harkness’ wishes; men and women were powerless against them.
“Stop calling me ‘Doc,’ then,” he ordered, and he heard Jack’s snort. “If I fail this exam I might just have to give up all hopes of getting my doctorate and it’ll be your fault and the fault of this-what’s her name, anyway?”
“Rose Tyler.”
“Is she a student here?”
“No. Dropout, actually; a bit of local colour. Nineteen. Got her heart broken by some musician punk called Jimmy Stone; her best friend wants her to get over him. I volunteered you.”
“Volunteered me? Again, when did I sign up for this? And since when have you had a problem with dating nineteen-year-olds? That’s your area, not mine.”
“She seems like she could be your type, Doc. Blonde. All smiles. Up for anything. And so help me God, you are going to have one night away from your books, because the boys at Torchwood’ve got a bet going that you wouldn’t show interest in a woman if she threw herself at you, and I’ve got a lot of money riding on the opposite. So I’m doing the throwing.”
John finished tying his tie and came out of the bathroom, rummaging in his desk drawers for his pocket watch. “Rose Tyler, her name is?”
He was a bit interested. Maybe.
“Rose Tyler,” Jack confirmed, and pushed him out the door.
***
“I’m not going!”
“You’d better, because my ears are bleeding from hearing ‘Last Christmas’ for the millionth and one time,” Donna Noble said from somewhere within Rose’s closet, where she was fruitlessly searching for Rose’s left black pump. “Tonight is the last night you will mope over Jimmy Stone. You’re meeting John Smith at the corner restaurant in an hour, and that’s final.”
“And is he being forced into this, too? Who is he, anyway?”
“Jack Harkness’ flatmate,” Donna told her, naming the guy she temped for at this Torchwood place. “Studying astrophysics at uni; never steps away from his books. Jack just wants him out for the night.”
“So you’re forcing him on me?”
“You’ll like him, Rose. Smart dresser, good to chat with, has seen the world… great hair,” she added as an afterthought, finally poking her head out of the closet. “Really great hair.”
She returned victorious from the closet, holding the missing black pump aloft and pressing it into Rose’s hands with the rest of the ensemble-fitting but modest black dress, nude pantyhose, the other pump, and a knitted gray shrug. “Just give him one date; do the bloke a favor. You might like him.”
“I liked Jimmy, too, at first,” Rose reminded her, but she caved, trotting off to the bathroom to get dressed in what little time she had left. If nothing else, any flatmate of Jack Harkness’ had to be a good time.
***
When they first locked eyes, it was just a bit hard to believe.
Great hair, yeah, Rose nodded to herself. But this scrawny beanpole of a guy, dressed in a well-worn brown suit? Not quite her type. No, her type were the fun, daring guys-guys more like Jimmy, more like Jack. Maybe she was wrong-maybe Jack had a dull flatmate to keep him grounded…
John, on the other hand, could barely stop staring, and it was all he could do to keep his jaw from dropping. Jack had neglected to mention she was a veritable goddess. Her hair, so golden, was bright enough that it seemed to draw in the darkness of the night and make it just a bit brighter. And that smile… oh, he so wanted to be the cause of that smile.
She came up to him almost awkwardly, holding out a hand. “John Smith?”
“Rose Tyler. It’s a pleasure.” He shook her hand, then nodded his head to the restaurant. “Shall we go in?”
Rose gave it a look. Just a little too fancy for her-an Italian place with expensive wines and well-dressed waiters, so far from a pizzeria or a diner. She gave John a slightly apologetic look, and decided to test him-if he passed, maybe he was her type after all. “’M more of a fish and chips type of girl.”
Suddenly he smiled-a grin that filled his face, quite literally ear to ear. “I know just the place. And if we’re lucky-” he checked his fob watch “-we might get there just in time for the next showing of A Christmas Carol. What d’you say, Rose Tyler?” he asked, holding out his hand, an invitation.
She realized the corners of her mouth were twitching, enthusiasm sparking in her brain-the first real smile since Jimmy, the first real pleasure in life that she’d had in months. “I say it sounds fantastic!”
She laced her fingers in his, and John pointed down the street, bounding off, leaving her struggling to keep up a bit in her heels, and she would’ve been frustrated if she hadn’t been laughing madly in joy.
“Right, then!” John and Rose’s whoops of pleasure echoed through the London streets. “Allons-y!”