Fic: Lady in red
Title: Lady in red
Author: psyfi_geekgirl
Characters/Pairings: Ten/Rose
Rating: PG
Teaser: “You and I are having a chat.” Oh boy, a chat… I’m done for, he thought. But for what? He was racking his considerably large brain but could find nothing.
Word count: 1,440
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em. “Not nobody, not nohow…”
A/N: Prompted by challenge 15 at then_theres_us (Photos-pics under the cut). Well, I am working my way through the backlog, and careful readers will notice I’ve temporarily skipped challenge 14 (Undercover). Frankly, I know what I want, it’s just not gelling as well as I’d like. So, maybe I’ll come back to it, and maybe I won’t. So, for now, onwards!
The way she stands there with her eyebrow arched and her hand locked on her hip he can’t decide-is she angry with me or not?
“Really?” she asks, her hazel eyes boring into him.
“Um. Yeah, sure. A bit.” For the life of him he can’t imagine why she’d be upset. “You’re not… Um, upset, are you?”
“And just what would I have to be upset about?” she asks, rounding on him wearing a smile that could be just a smile, or could be dripping with anger and sarcasm. He just can’t be sure.
They’re standing in the middle of present-day Piccadilly Circus and all the Doctor can do is wish for the safe confines of his TARDIS. He hates playing this is-she-mad-at-me-game, he always loses.
“Dunno. I dunno. It’s just that you look a little…” he gulps, “angry.”
“I look angry?”
All she did was repeat what he’d just asked back at him, but suddenly he feels like he’s quite without the firmness of the ground beneath him. That stability that was once so dense-through which he could feel the turn of the earth in the subtle vibrations in the soles of his feet-is gone. Right now the formerly stable ground has given way and he feels like he’s falling through jello and he doesn’t know why or how to make it stop. It occurs to him that this could be a test. Yes, some sort of test! She was doing that a bit more lately. Ever since he’d rifled through that nice family’s cupboards (The Webbers, he remembers) with the Isolus problem and stuck his fingers in their peanut butter, Rose had been giving him lessons. Social Skills Lessons, she’d called them. Stuff like: Wait for people to invite you into their home before you push past them and sit on their sofas; don’t interrupt people when they’re talking even if they’re not interesting to you; never throw pears onto the floor when you encounter them in a store, someone’s home or at an all-you-can-eat buffet; and absolutely do not jump away in horror from people’s babies even if they are ugly. It was maddening to him, really. After all, he was over 900 years old and who was she to make---
“Ahem.”
The sound of her clearing her throat brought him suddenly back to the task at hand. Yes, this is another test, he thought to himself, and he made an attempt to beat her at her own game: “Look, we’re standing in the middle of the sidewalk. Don’t you think it’s rude that people have to go around us?”
She waved her hand dismissively. “Let them walk around us. You and I are having a chat.”
Oh boy, a chat… I’m done for, he thought. But for what? He was racking his considerably large brain but could find nothing. “Rose, look, I’m sorry. I see that you’re upset with me and that you want me to understand what I did, but I don’t. I’m sorry. You forget sometimes that I’m not human-there’s stuff I just don’t get. But I am trying for you. I really do want to understand, I just need you to be patient with me.” She looks at him sharply. “Notthatyou haven’t been patient with me,” he hurries to get out, “’cause you have Rose, really. Amazingly patient. But I need your help. Please, tell me what it is you’re so upset with me about and I’ll make it right.”
He has no way of knowing it, but he has just set a precedent for conflict resolution with Rose that will last him the rest of his natural life in a universe that will look remarkably like this one, but isn’t.
Rose sighs. He’s hopeless. “Right. What was the last thing that you said to me?”
He considers. “I said you looked a bit like the girl in the billboard there,” he says innocently and points upwards. Eight stories above them is a gigantic poster of a ruby lipped blonde with hazel, kind looking eyes, an upturned nose and dark brows. She’s cute. He smiles at it, happily cocking his head. Looks kinda like Rose-what could possibly be wrong with that? He begins to think she’s crazy for having anything against that. It’s a compliment, actually, absolutely nothing to be offended by.
“Doctor, she’s only in her knickers.”
“Wha--?” His vision snaps wider as he scans the rest of the image-in fact, most of the rest of the image; for the only part that concerns her face is a part that’s squashed off into one corner of the billboard-and barely just, for the top of her head is actually cropped off to her forehead. Most of the billboard is, in fact, a picture of said blonde reclining (writhing, really) on what looks to be a bed, clad only in a red/black lacey bra ensemble, complete with the scantiest of scanty knickers.
“Oh” he says hollowly.
“Right. You didn’t see that bit, didja?” Her voice begins to take on a screechy quality that is scarily familiar and reminds him of Jackie Tyler at her most annoyed. He starts to feel ill.
“No. No, I didn’t. But Rose-her face, don’t you see it, you look a bit like her.”
“Y’mean she looks a bit like me.”
“Yes!” He smiles a big smile. He’s relieved. She’s got it! She understands him! He’s off the hook!
“Have you actually seen me in my knickers, Doctor?”
“Er. Um. What???”
She repeats the question: “Have. You. Ever. Seen me. In my knickers, Doctor?”
“Well… NO!”
“Then why would it be appropriate for you to say that she looks like-“
“Her face! I said her face! It’s her face I was looking at. Just the face. Only her face! I didn’t even see the rest of that!” He waves his hand at the gigantic expanse of flesh eight stories up.
“No, you wouldn’t wouldja…. As usual. No big shocker there,” she mutters under her breath.
“Sorry?”
“Nothing.” She waves her hand.
The Doctor steadies his breathing and takes a stab in the dark. This time he knows full well that what he’s about to say really does lie on the border of inappropriate-hell, he might just get a slap for it-but at least he’d know why. However, it would be the truth and it’s an opinion he holds in both of his hearts. He turns her to him gently and takes her head in his hands. He levels down to meet her, eye to eye. “Rose, y’know something? That model has nothing on you. You’re much more beautiful than her. To me, I mean. Everything about you to me is beautiful and pretty and wonderful. And you’d beat her out any day-even in your knickers, I bet.”
Rose shyly looks up at him through her eyelashes. He can tell he’s getting through to her. He may just get out of this with his cheeks and his pride intact. Her eyes widen and she moistens her lips. The Doctor can feel the hitch in his breath as he watches her do this. But in a flash, she pulls away. The Doctor flinches for the slap he knows is sure to come.
“Oooh! Do you smell candied apples?” He opens his eyes to see her spinning around like a calibrating compass, sniffing. Then, like a wolf tracking its prey, she makes a beeline towards the street vendor, pulling the Doctor along by his hand.
“Always thinking with your stomach, aren’t ya?” He chuckles.
She shoots him a look and a hand goes up defensively. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”
He buys her one with the leftover money she gave him earlier in the day. She snickers at him. He has no idea what he’s done wrong now, but he doesn’t care. She bites into the drippy ruby confection and gets the goopy red goo all over her mouth and nose. He looks at her as she giggles in embarrassment.
He stands stock still, staring at the prettiest girl in the universe. “Yeah, definitely prettier than that girl in the billboard,” he says softly, his eyes full of Rose and his voice full of affection.
She glances up at him, the blush on her cheeks matches the sugary syrup on her face and she gives him a giant toothy smile. “I forgive you, you dopey old alien sod,” she says with her mouth full, and kisses him on the cheek, gifting him with the sticky mess from off her lips.
The Doctor sighs with relief. All is right in the universe again; his Rose is happy and-he knows-absolutely beautiful.
Author: psyfi_geekgirl
Characters/Pairings: Ten/Rose
Rating: PG
Teaser: “You and I are having a chat.” Oh boy, a chat… I’m done for, he thought. But for what? He was racking his considerably large brain but could find nothing.
Word count: 1,440
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em. “Not nobody, not nohow…”
A/N: Prompted by challenge 15 at then_theres_us (Photos-pics under the cut). Well, I am working my way through the backlog, and careful readers will notice I’ve temporarily skipped challenge 14 (Undercover). Frankly, I know what I want, it’s just not gelling as well as I’d like. So, maybe I’ll come back to it, and maybe I won’t. So, for now, onwards!
The way she stands there with her eyebrow arched and her hand locked on her hip he can’t decide-is she angry with me or not?
“Really?” she asks, her hazel eyes boring into him.
“Um. Yeah, sure. A bit.” For the life of him he can’t imagine why she’d be upset. “You’re not… Um, upset, are you?”
“And just what would I have to be upset about?” she asks, rounding on him wearing a smile that could be just a smile, or could be dripping with anger and sarcasm. He just can’t be sure.
They’re standing in the middle of present-day Piccadilly Circus and all the Doctor can do is wish for the safe confines of his TARDIS. He hates playing this is-she-mad-at-me-game, he always loses.
“Dunno. I dunno. It’s just that you look a little…” he gulps, “angry.”
“I look angry?”
All she did was repeat what he’d just asked back at him, but suddenly he feels like he’s quite without the firmness of the ground beneath him. That stability that was once so dense-through which he could feel the turn of the earth in the subtle vibrations in the soles of his feet-is gone. Right now the formerly stable ground has given way and he feels like he’s falling through jello and he doesn’t know why or how to make it stop. It occurs to him that this could be a test. Yes, some sort of test! She was doing that a bit more lately. Ever since he’d rifled through that nice family’s cupboards (The Webbers, he remembers) with the Isolus problem and stuck his fingers in their peanut butter, Rose had been giving him lessons. Social Skills Lessons, she’d called them. Stuff like: Wait for people to invite you into their home before you push past them and sit on their sofas; don’t interrupt people when they’re talking even if they’re not interesting to you; never throw pears onto the floor when you encounter them in a store, someone’s home or at an all-you-can-eat buffet; and absolutely do not jump away in horror from people’s babies even if they are ugly. It was maddening to him, really. After all, he was over 900 years old and who was she to make---
“Ahem.”
The sound of her clearing her throat brought him suddenly back to the task at hand. Yes, this is another test, he thought to himself, and he made an attempt to beat her at her own game: “Look, we’re standing in the middle of the sidewalk. Don’t you think it’s rude that people have to go around us?”
She waved her hand dismissively. “Let them walk around us. You and I are having a chat.”
Oh boy, a chat… I’m done for, he thought. But for what? He was racking his considerably large brain but could find nothing. “Rose, look, I’m sorry. I see that you’re upset with me and that you want me to understand what I did, but I don’t. I’m sorry. You forget sometimes that I’m not human-there’s stuff I just don’t get. But I am trying for you. I really do want to understand, I just need you to be patient with me.” She looks at him sharply. “Notthatyou haven’t been patient with me,” he hurries to get out, “’cause you have Rose, really. Amazingly patient. But I need your help. Please, tell me what it is you’re so upset with me about and I’ll make it right.”
He has no way of knowing it, but he has just set a precedent for conflict resolution with Rose that will last him the rest of his natural life in a universe that will look remarkably like this one, but isn’t.
Rose sighs. He’s hopeless. “Right. What was the last thing that you said to me?”
He considers. “I said you looked a bit like the girl in the billboard there,” he says innocently and points upwards. Eight stories above them is a gigantic poster of a ruby lipped blonde with hazel, kind looking eyes, an upturned nose and dark brows. She’s cute. He smiles at it, happily cocking his head. Looks kinda like Rose-what could possibly be wrong with that? He begins to think she’s crazy for having anything against that. It’s a compliment, actually, absolutely nothing to be offended by.
“Doctor, she’s only in her knickers.”
“Wha--?” His vision snaps wider as he scans the rest of the image-in fact, most of the rest of the image; for the only part that concerns her face is a part that’s squashed off into one corner of the billboard-and barely just, for the top of her head is actually cropped off to her forehead. Most of the billboard is, in fact, a picture of said blonde reclining (writhing, really) on what looks to be a bed, clad only in a red/black lacey bra ensemble, complete with the scantiest of scanty knickers.
“Oh” he says hollowly.
“Right. You didn’t see that bit, didja?” Her voice begins to take on a screechy quality that is scarily familiar and reminds him of Jackie Tyler at her most annoyed. He starts to feel ill.
“No. No, I didn’t. But Rose-her face, don’t you see it, you look a bit like her.”
“Y’mean she looks a bit like me.”
“Yes!” He smiles a big smile. He’s relieved. She’s got it! She understands him! He’s off the hook!
“Have you actually seen me in my knickers, Doctor?”
“Er. Um. What???”
She repeats the question: “Have. You. Ever. Seen me. In my knickers, Doctor?”
“Well… NO!”
“Then why would it be appropriate for you to say that she looks like-“
“Her face! I said her face! It’s her face I was looking at. Just the face. Only her face! I didn’t even see the rest of that!” He waves his hand at the gigantic expanse of flesh eight stories up.
“No, you wouldn’t wouldja…. As usual. No big shocker there,” she mutters under her breath.
“Sorry?”
“Nothing.” She waves her hand.
The Doctor steadies his breathing and takes a stab in the dark. This time he knows full well that what he’s about to say really does lie on the border of inappropriate-hell, he might just get a slap for it-but at least he’d know why. However, it would be the truth and it’s an opinion he holds in both of his hearts. He turns her to him gently and takes her head in his hands. He levels down to meet her, eye to eye. “Rose, y’know something? That model has nothing on you. You’re much more beautiful than her. To me, I mean. Everything about you to me is beautiful and pretty and wonderful. And you’d beat her out any day-even in your knickers, I bet.”
Rose shyly looks up at him through her eyelashes. He can tell he’s getting through to her. He may just get out of this with his cheeks and his pride intact. Her eyes widen and she moistens her lips. The Doctor can feel the hitch in his breath as he watches her do this. But in a flash, she pulls away. The Doctor flinches for the slap he knows is sure to come.
“Oooh! Do you smell candied apples?” He opens his eyes to see her spinning around like a calibrating compass, sniffing. Then, like a wolf tracking its prey, she makes a beeline towards the street vendor, pulling the Doctor along by his hand.
“Always thinking with your stomach, aren’t ya?” He chuckles.
She shoots him a look and a hand goes up defensively. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”
He buys her one with the leftover money she gave him earlier in the day. She snickers at him. He has no idea what he’s done wrong now, but he doesn’t care. She bites into the drippy ruby confection and gets the goopy red goo all over her mouth and nose. He looks at her as she giggles in embarrassment.
He stands stock still, staring at the prettiest girl in the universe. “Yeah, definitely prettier than that girl in the billboard,” he says softly, his eyes full of Rose and his voice full of affection.
She glances up at him, the blush on her cheeks matches the sugary syrup on her face and she gives him a giant toothy smile. “I forgive you, you dopey old alien sod,” she says with her mouth full, and kisses him on the cheek, gifting him with the sticky mess from off her lips.
The Doctor sighs with relief. All is right in the universe again; his Rose is happy and-he knows-absolutely beautiful.