Short Fic: Happens
Title: Happens
Author: Kesshin
Rating: PG
Characters: Nine, Rose
Summary: It just happens. You can see infinity from where they are.
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It just happens.
She thinks everything about them is casual, but then it’s not. She goes off on a whim with a crazy man in a blue box, because she can taste infinity when she’s with him. It’s always a step away.
She loves it when he holds her hand.
Everything about them is casual, and then it isn’t. There’s delusions of, ‘oh, stupid human,’ and ‘oh, traveling a bit, just a bit,’ and ‘oh, you think you’re so impressive.’
She’s not stupid, they’re traveling across whole galaxies and centuries, and he’s so impressive.
They’re sitting on a couch.
“Do you think that Elvis was human?” he asks.
“Yeah. Wasn’t he?”
“No.”
“You’re bored,” she says, “if you have to use useless bits of alien trivia to start a conversation.”
“They’re not useless. It’s privileged information.”
The words sound argumentative, but they’re not. They’re both tired and they're both feeling pretty content. They want to talk to hear each other’s voices touching the walls of the Tardis. It’s one of those moments that continues after it’s ended. Sometimes Rose wonders if there are ghosts of herself hiding in dusty corners of the ship. It’s something she thinks about.
“I’m tired,” she whispers. Her voice is a ripple.
“Go to bed, then,” he says, but he doesn’t move.
It just happens.
Rose thinks about those ghosts of herself and of him hiding away, pressed into time like flowers between the pages of old books. The memories vary- anxious or angered, ecstatic or drowsily content like the moment is now. They’re all paper-thin.
There’s a line. It’s one that’s never been there.
He grabbed her hand, once, and that’s how they met.
There has never been a line, only an idea of one.
“Doctor?”
“Yeah?”
“…I don’t know.”
She puts a sleepy arm around one of his shoulders and brings her face up to his. He looks incredulous and tired. She can feel the heat from the skin of his mouth and nose. He has the beginnings of five o’clock shadow.
Nothing involving the Doctor is ever normal, but everything involving him is all right. He always makes sure that it’s going to be all right, just as much as he can make it.
He juts forward. His chin crashes into hers; it hurts.
“Ow,” she says, “You’re bad at this.”
“Am I?”
Their lips press against each other like pages, and it’s nice.
Somewhere, always, they are sitting on that couch.
It just happened.
It just happens.
It will just happen, again and again.
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It’s something she thinks about.
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Author's Notes: I wrote this when I should have been working on 'Jupiter Juice.' I was trying to see if I could make myself write a mild sex scene. Yes, I know, I'm a bad, bad person; more specifically, I'm the kind of bad, bad person who can't write sex scenes. How 'bout that?
Author: Kesshin
Rating: PG
Characters: Nine, Rose
Summary: It just happens. You can see infinity from where they are.
-
-
It just happens.
She thinks everything about them is casual, but then it’s not. She goes off on a whim with a crazy man in a blue box, because she can taste infinity when she’s with him. It’s always a step away.
She loves it when he holds her hand.
Everything about them is casual, and then it isn’t. There’s delusions of, ‘oh, stupid human,’ and ‘oh, traveling a bit, just a bit,’ and ‘oh, you think you’re so impressive.’
She’s not stupid, they’re traveling across whole galaxies and centuries, and he’s so impressive.
They’re sitting on a couch.
“Do you think that Elvis was human?” he asks.
“Yeah. Wasn’t he?”
“No.”
“You’re bored,” she says, “if you have to use useless bits of alien trivia to start a conversation.”
“They’re not useless. It’s privileged information.”
The words sound argumentative, but they’re not. They’re both tired and they're both feeling pretty content. They want to talk to hear each other’s voices touching the walls of the Tardis. It’s one of those moments that continues after it’s ended. Sometimes Rose wonders if there are ghosts of herself hiding in dusty corners of the ship. It’s something she thinks about.
“I’m tired,” she whispers. Her voice is a ripple.
“Go to bed, then,” he says, but he doesn’t move.
It just happens.
Rose thinks about those ghosts of herself and of him hiding away, pressed into time like flowers between the pages of old books. The memories vary- anxious or angered, ecstatic or drowsily content like the moment is now. They’re all paper-thin.
There’s a line. It’s one that’s never been there.
He grabbed her hand, once, and that’s how they met.
There has never been a line, only an idea of one.
“Doctor?”
“Yeah?”
“…I don’t know.”
She puts a sleepy arm around one of his shoulders and brings her face up to his. He looks incredulous and tired. She can feel the heat from the skin of his mouth and nose. He has the beginnings of five o’clock shadow.
Nothing involving the Doctor is ever normal, but everything involving him is all right. He always makes sure that it’s going to be all right, just as much as he can make it.
He juts forward. His chin crashes into hers; it hurts.
“Ow,” she says, “You’re bad at this.”
“Am I?”
Their lips press against each other like pages, and it’s nice.
Somewhere, always, they are sitting on that couch.
It just happened.
It just happens.
It will just happen, again and again.
-
It’s something she thinks about.
-
-
-
Author's Notes: I wrote this when I should have been working on 'Jupiter Juice.' I was trying to see if I could make myself write a mild sex scene. Yes, I know, I'm a bad, bad person; more specifically, I'm the kind of bad, bad person who can't write sex scenes. How 'bout that?