fic 014.
Being Human/Doctor Who Crossover | We've Read the Back of the Book, Mitchell/Rose, Doctor/Rose, r.
It's 1968. They share a blunt, sitting on the grass under a "nice, big shady tree" as she likes to call it. He can't imagine ever having bitten her even before he went straight., 760 words, complete.
beginning
It's 1968. They share a blunt, sitting on the grass under a "nice, big shady tree" as she likes to call it. He can't imagine ever having bitten her even before he went straight.
"Your bloke looks like he wants to hit me." He nods to the big eared gent standing near the crowd, pretending to listen to the concert and not keeping a stern eye on his girl. Rose smirks before coughing a little, passing the joint back his way and exhaling smoke into a cloud around them.
"Naw, he's alright. Just gets a bit jealous, is all. Gotta admit, I kinda like winding him up." She bites her lip and he wonders what it would feel like between his own teeth.
He grins, leaning sideways on his elbow on their shared blanket and looking up at her through lidded eyes. A bit of sun peeks around her head, framing her head like a halo and making her already bright, flowing hair look like fire. "I can see that about you."
--
end
He didn't mean for it to happen. Always felt like she was taken, before. But first she's making them tea in his kitchen, ("Can't stand to drink one made by somebody else, since."), and then she's dropped the sugar all over the floor. Before he can make a joke about it not being spilled milk, she's crying, leaning against the counter and he's holding her without thinking twice.
She's talking crazy, something about alternate universes and blacked out stars, and it's like she can't stand to hear herself speak anymore because she silences herself with his mouth.
He doesn't realize how much he's been wanting her until she's laid out naked on his bed. He's not pushing her, she's the one who pulls him under the covers, pushes his hands where she needs them, her breathless gasps in the darkness telling him he's touching her right, kissing her in the right spots. She rakes her nails down his back when she comes, and his eyes go black, just for a moment. She's the first woman in years to bring the animal out in him.
"So, this isn't your original universe?" His lips press against her neck with each word, and her hair falls into his face when she shakes her head.
"Am I a monster in every reality?" He chuckles, only sort of wanting to hear the answer.
She turns to look down at him, and something in her eyes makes him think of a lonely, howling wolf. Her silence is response enough for him and they go back to not talking, just breathing into the dark.
He falls asleep to the pound of her pulse against his mouth, and somewhere he hears a lovely voice, like a lullaby, say something about not all monsters being bad.
--
middle
He doesn't realize how much he's been wanting her until he sees her run to him, sees him pick her up as she wraps her arms around his neck, wind picking up the bottom of his long coat and making it swish around the both of them. It's good, they saved, well. The immediate area of Bristol. But it's his hand that cups her head, buries his fingers in her hair, not his. His lips that she kisses, quickly, cause they have an audience. But he can see the promise in that kiss, it promises later and makes his stomach hurt and his spine shiver in the cold night air.
He lights a cigarette and nods at the Doctor as he walks over.
"Thank you, Mitchell. You're a good man." There's still that stern look in his eye, never gone even after four decades, the same warning in a new face.
"No problem. Needed help with those pricks, myself, ya know." He speaks of Herrick and the others around his cig, acting a bit disrespectful but he can't really bring himself to care.
Rose wears her concern on her face, eyes wide and shining. "They'll be back, though. You gonna be alright?" Her fingers busy themselves with her coat sleeve and he smiles, takes the cig away long enough to pull her to him with one arm.
"Always. You go, Rose. You're always meant to go." He kisses her under her ear, shielded by her hair so he can't see, and he smiles at her little gasp of breath.
He doesn't stay to watch the box fade away, but he feels the wind at his back pushing him forward, blowing his smoke into a circle around his head.
--
It's 1968. They share a blunt, sitting on the grass under a "nice, big shady tree" as she likes to call it. He can't imagine ever having bitten her even before he went straight., 760 words, complete.
beginning
It's 1968. They share a blunt, sitting on the grass under a "nice, big shady tree" as she likes to call it. He can't imagine ever having bitten her even before he went straight.
"Your bloke looks like he wants to hit me." He nods to the big eared gent standing near the crowd, pretending to listen to the concert and not keeping a stern eye on his girl. Rose smirks before coughing a little, passing the joint back his way and exhaling smoke into a cloud around them.
"Naw, he's alright. Just gets a bit jealous, is all. Gotta admit, I kinda like winding him up." She bites her lip and he wonders what it would feel like between his own teeth.
He grins, leaning sideways on his elbow on their shared blanket and looking up at her through lidded eyes. A bit of sun peeks around her head, framing her head like a halo and making her already bright, flowing hair look like fire. "I can see that about you."
--
end
He didn't mean for it to happen. Always felt like she was taken, before. But first she's making them tea in his kitchen, ("Can't stand to drink one made by somebody else, since."), and then she's dropped the sugar all over the floor. Before he can make a joke about it not being spilled milk, she's crying, leaning against the counter and he's holding her without thinking twice.
She's talking crazy, something about alternate universes and blacked out stars, and it's like she can't stand to hear herself speak anymore because she silences herself with his mouth.
He doesn't realize how much he's been wanting her until she's laid out naked on his bed. He's not pushing her, she's the one who pulls him under the covers, pushes his hands where she needs them, her breathless gasps in the darkness telling him he's touching her right, kissing her in the right spots. She rakes her nails down his back when she comes, and his eyes go black, just for a moment. She's the first woman in years to bring the animal out in him.
"So, this isn't your original universe?" His lips press against her neck with each word, and her hair falls into his face when she shakes her head.
"Am I a monster in every reality?" He chuckles, only sort of wanting to hear the answer.
She turns to look down at him, and something in her eyes makes him think of a lonely, howling wolf. Her silence is response enough for him and they go back to not talking, just breathing into the dark.
He falls asleep to the pound of her pulse against his mouth, and somewhere he hears a lovely voice, like a lullaby, say something about not all monsters being bad.
--
middle
He doesn't realize how much he's been wanting her until he sees her run to him, sees him pick her up as she wraps her arms around his neck, wind picking up the bottom of his long coat and making it swish around the both of them. It's good, they saved, well. The immediate area of Bristol. But it's his hand that cups her head, buries his fingers in her hair, not his. His lips that she kisses, quickly, cause they have an audience. But he can see the promise in that kiss, it promises later and makes his stomach hurt and his spine shiver in the cold night air.
He lights a cigarette and nods at the Doctor as he walks over.
"Thank you, Mitchell. You're a good man." There's still that stern look in his eye, never gone even after four decades, the same warning in a new face.
"No problem. Needed help with those pricks, myself, ya know." He speaks of Herrick and the others around his cig, acting a bit disrespectful but he can't really bring himself to care.
Rose wears her concern on her face, eyes wide and shining. "They'll be back, though. You gonna be alright?" Her fingers busy themselves with her coat sleeve and he smiles, takes the cig away long enough to pull her to him with one arm.
"Always. You go, Rose. You're always meant to go." He kisses her under her ear, shielded by her hair so he can't see, and he smiles at her little gasp of breath.
He doesn't stay to watch the box fade away, but he feels the wind at his back pushing him forward, blowing his smoke into a circle around his head.
--