(no subject)
Title: Stuck in Class.
Author: Iby.
Genre: Possible humour, romance, fluff.
Rating: PG-13 for ear nibbling and jaw kissing.
Characters and Pairings: The Tenth Doctor, Rose; Ten/Rose.
Spoilers: Nope.
Author's Note: Possibly the silliest thing I've ever written, but my sister insisted that I post it. It's a distant relative of the Molly!verse. *falls on knees in apology*
Faced with the threat of being slapped by Jackie, The Doctor is forced to accompany Rose to a birthing class. Hijinks ensue!
The Doctor frantically paced the less than considerable length of Jackie’s living room, brow furrowed and shoulders tense. “I will not beg,” he muttered darkly to himself. “I will not beg. I will not beg, I will not,” he turned suddenly, dashed towards Rose who was sat at the kitchen table and gripped her hands tightly in both of his. “I’ll give you the TARDIS if you don’t make me go.” He tried to school his expression into one of neutrality, but he knew he was the embodiment of everything pathetic.
Extricating her hands from his grip, Rose glared at him dangerously and picked at her roast beef sandwich. “Do you think I want to go?”
Dejectedly, the Doctor flopped into the chair beside her. “She does know that you’ve done this before, doesn’t she? How does she think Molly came into the world?”
Rose sighed tiredly and rubbed her belly. The baby had been hiccuping a lot the past few days, and the funny ripples in her stomach had woken her several times during the night interrupting her sleep. “Mums are supposed to guide their daughters through these kinds of things. She didn’t get to be a part of it last time. She’s just trying to help.”
The Doctor frowned and drew Rose’s plate towards him. “She’s trying to convince herself,” he took a bite of her sandwich, “that it’s a regular human pregnancy.” He wrinkled his nose at the prospect and took another bite.
Both irritation with him and unbelievable tiredness made her snappish. “Well, I’m human and I’m the one who’s pregnant. I don’t want to go but I am because she wants me to. Which is obviously a notion that’s unfamiliar to you. So fine, stay in the TARDIS. You don’t have to come.”
She would have stormed off, but getting up was awkward and wouldn’t lend her exit the air of dignity it deserved. She settled instead for stealing her sandwich back and taking a big bite out of it.
The baby moved fretfully in her belly, kicking at parts of her body that weren’t meant to be kicked at and she knew that he was unsettled by both her and the Doctor’s emotions. She tried to calm herself down; the baby was too big for gymnastic feats, but when a sharp pain rattled down one of her ribs she felt her calm shatter and she started to cry.
The Doctor was by her side in an instant, his arms wrapped around her and his mouth by her ear, whispering comforts and apologies. When he felt her settle, he started to nibble on her earlobe gently before kissing along the line of her jaw. All she needed, he knew, was to feel like she was still beautiful to him, still a person in her own right and not merely an incubator. She’d had a day full of strangers on the streets touching her belly as if she was public property and her patience was a little frayed.*
He pressed his mouth to hers, kissing her slowly, everything about her warm and familiar and round and arousing. She ran the tip of her tongue over his lips and he let her take control of the kiss. Her hands slipped into his hair tugging it every which way and his fell to her belly, rubbing up and down over the swell.
Just as he was about convinced that he was going to make love to her on the kitchen table, big belly be damned, he heard keys jingle in the front door. Pulling away, as if scolded by hot water, he grinned sheepishly at her and set about making himself presentable. Jackie caught him snogging her daughter so often that he had a routine down; flatten hair, straighten tie, tuck shirt in, wipe off lipstick and, if necessary, sit down or stand behind something.
Presentable once more, he stood up beside Rose, rested a hand on her shoulder, and gave himself up to the inevitable.
. . . .
The Doctor glanced nervously at the couple sat on the floor next to him, making sure that they couldn’t hear him. “We could always leave,” he whispered into Rose’s ear.
Rose was sat on the floor as well, tucked between his long legs with her own drawn up at cruel and unusual angles.
“We couldn’t,” Rose whispered around her rhythmic breathing, “possibly.”
From behind her, the Doctor counted seconds off on his fingers. He pondered briefly standing up and declaring to the entire birthing class that he was a Lord of Time, thankyouverymuch, and did not need to use his fingers to count.
Painfully aware of the class instructor watching him, he resigned himself to the next hour of breathing and rested his hands on Rose’s thighs to hold her steady. Suddenly he felt her tense in his arms, all of her attention focussed on something. Following her gaze, he realized that Jackie was leaving the room.
Everything inside him screamed Flee! Now! Flee! but he kept the instinct at bay.
The instructor asked them to do something thoroughly embarrassing and Rose nodded, her hair scratching his chin. “We haven’t had a really good run for our lives in ages.”
Hope flared. “Really?”
She looked over her shoulder at him, grinning cheekily. “You’ll have to help me up and it won’t be a run so much as it’ll be a fast waddle, but I say we make a break for freedom while we’ve got the chance.”
Nodding enthusiastically, he hooked his hands under her arms and gently lifted her up.
Ignoring the curious stares of everybody in the room, he curled his hand around hers, just like he had all those years ago. Where once she hadn’t known him, she now carried their son, just as she’d carried their daughter.
Run!
“Waddle!"
. . . .
* - this is a little shout out to any mums who read this. A girl from work, who is pregnant, is always complaining about this and it sounds *really* annoying!
Anyway, sorry, sorry, sorry. I have semi-serious stuff in the works, I promise!
Author: Iby.
Genre: Possible humour, romance, fluff.
Rating: PG-13 for ear nibbling and jaw kissing.
Characters and Pairings: The Tenth Doctor, Rose; Ten/Rose.
Spoilers: Nope.
Author's Note: Possibly the silliest thing I've ever written, but my sister insisted that I post it. It's a distant relative of the Molly!verse. *falls on knees in apology*
Faced with the threat of being slapped by Jackie, The Doctor is forced to accompany Rose to a birthing class. Hijinks ensue!
The Doctor frantically paced the less than considerable length of Jackie’s living room, brow furrowed and shoulders tense. “I will not beg,” he muttered darkly to himself. “I will not beg. I will not beg, I will not,” he turned suddenly, dashed towards Rose who was sat at the kitchen table and gripped her hands tightly in both of his. “I’ll give you the TARDIS if you don’t make me go.” He tried to school his expression into one of neutrality, but he knew he was the embodiment of everything pathetic.
Extricating her hands from his grip, Rose glared at him dangerously and picked at her roast beef sandwich. “Do you think I want to go?”
Dejectedly, the Doctor flopped into the chair beside her. “She does know that you’ve done this before, doesn’t she? How does she think Molly came into the world?”
Rose sighed tiredly and rubbed her belly. The baby had been hiccuping a lot the past few days, and the funny ripples in her stomach had woken her several times during the night interrupting her sleep. “Mums are supposed to guide their daughters through these kinds of things. She didn’t get to be a part of it last time. She’s just trying to help.”
The Doctor frowned and drew Rose’s plate towards him. “She’s trying to convince herself,” he took a bite of her sandwich, “that it’s a regular human pregnancy.” He wrinkled his nose at the prospect and took another bite.
Both irritation with him and unbelievable tiredness made her snappish. “Well, I’m human and I’m the one who’s pregnant. I don’t want to go but I am because she wants me to. Which is obviously a notion that’s unfamiliar to you. So fine, stay in the TARDIS. You don’t have to come.”
She would have stormed off, but getting up was awkward and wouldn’t lend her exit the air of dignity it deserved. She settled instead for stealing her sandwich back and taking a big bite out of it.
The baby moved fretfully in her belly, kicking at parts of her body that weren’t meant to be kicked at and she knew that he was unsettled by both her and the Doctor’s emotions. She tried to calm herself down; the baby was too big for gymnastic feats, but when a sharp pain rattled down one of her ribs she felt her calm shatter and she started to cry.
The Doctor was by her side in an instant, his arms wrapped around her and his mouth by her ear, whispering comforts and apologies. When he felt her settle, he started to nibble on her earlobe gently before kissing along the line of her jaw. All she needed, he knew, was to feel like she was still beautiful to him, still a person in her own right and not merely an incubator. She’d had a day full of strangers on the streets touching her belly as if she was public property and her patience was a little frayed.*
He pressed his mouth to hers, kissing her slowly, everything about her warm and familiar and round and arousing. She ran the tip of her tongue over his lips and he let her take control of the kiss. Her hands slipped into his hair tugging it every which way and his fell to her belly, rubbing up and down over the swell.
Just as he was about convinced that he was going to make love to her on the kitchen table, big belly be damned, he heard keys jingle in the front door. Pulling away, as if scolded by hot water, he grinned sheepishly at her and set about making himself presentable. Jackie caught him snogging her daughter so often that he had a routine down; flatten hair, straighten tie, tuck shirt in, wipe off lipstick and, if necessary, sit down or stand behind something.
Presentable once more, he stood up beside Rose, rested a hand on her shoulder, and gave himself up to the inevitable.
. . . .
The Doctor glanced nervously at the couple sat on the floor next to him, making sure that they couldn’t hear him. “We could always leave,” he whispered into Rose’s ear.
Rose was sat on the floor as well, tucked between his long legs with her own drawn up at cruel and unusual angles.
“We couldn’t,” Rose whispered around her rhythmic breathing, “possibly.”
From behind her, the Doctor counted seconds off on his fingers. He pondered briefly standing up and declaring to the entire birthing class that he was a Lord of Time, thankyouverymuch, and did not need to use his fingers to count.
Painfully aware of the class instructor watching him, he resigned himself to the next hour of breathing and rested his hands on Rose’s thighs to hold her steady. Suddenly he felt her tense in his arms, all of her attention focussed on something. Following her gaze, he realized that Jackie was leaving the room.
Everything inside him screamed Flee! Now! Flee! but he kept the instinct at bay.
The instructor asked them to do something thoroughly embarrassing and Rose nodded, her hair scratching his chin. “We haven’t had a really good run for our lives in ages.”
Hope flared. “Really?”
She looked over her shoulder at him, grinning cheekily. “You’ll have to help me up and it won’t be a run so much as it’ll be a fast waddle, but I say we make a break for freedom while we’ve got the chance.”
Nodding enthusiastically, he hooked his hands under her arms and gently lifted her up.
Ignoring the curious stares of everybody in the room, he curled his hand around hers, just like he had all those years ago. Where once she hadn’t known him, she now carried their son, just as she’d carried their daughter.
Run!
“Waddle!"
. . . .
* - this is a little shout out to any mums who read this. A girl from work, who is pregnant, is always complaining about this and it sounds *really* annoying!
Anyway, sorry, sorry, sorry. I have semi-serious stuff in the works, I promise!