Fic: Wool
Title: Wool
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Ten/Rose
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Summary: Rose finds one of the Doctor's souvenirs.
Notes: Just a fluffy bit I wrote up in the midst of doing twelve other things ...
• Inspired in part by one of the pop-up notes on the DVD of "The Pyramids of Mars" (Fourth Doctor).
• And: the scarf measurement comes from one I knitted for The Scotsman's father for Christmas, from the Season 12 pattern. (Though the other measurements and mathy things are made up, as I didn't measure the stripes and all before I gave it away.)
WOOL
"Where did you get that?"
Rose glanced up, startled, and looked guiltily down at the magazine in her lap. "Oh, well, Mum gave me a pile of them last time we visited. I know, they're complete trash, but if you're not going to let me have the telly on once in a while out here then how else am I supposed to keep up with -"
"Not the magazine," the Doctor interrupted. "And I told you, you can watch bloody EastEnders all you want as long as I'm not actually in the TARDIS at the time. Where did you get that thing you're wearing?" He nodded at the coils of scarf wrapped about her shoulders and spread over her lap like a long, skinny blanket. Rose stroked the striped wool, sending a tiny shiver of pleasure up his spine.
"Oh, this - I was cold. I can't find my red jumper anywhere and for some reason the TARDIS wouldn't let me back to my bedroom. I ended up in a disused wardrobe," Rose explained, referring to the ship's unnerving habit of rearranging rooms and passageways at random. "You'll want to have a talking to her about that," she added. "Anyhow, I know it's horrible - I mean, beige and purple? Looks like a dentist's waiting room - but it is warm. Where'd it come from, anyway?"
The Doctor crossed his arms and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "It's mine," he said.
Rose howled with laughter and tossed her magazine aside. "It's what?"
"It's mine. Well, it was. A few regenerations ago."
"What were you, twelve foot tall?"
"Not a bit of it. I was taller, certainly, but - "
She stood and unwound the scarf from her body. "But it's got to be twenty foot long!"
"Twenty-one feet, three and two-thirds inches, actually, " the Doctor mumbled. "And it's quite stylish." Rose glanced at him dubiously, tossed a loop around his shoulders and stepped back to regard him. He struck a dashing pose. "Well? What do you think?"
She pursed her lips thoughtfully, head tilted first to one side, then the other. "I think," she said finally, " ... that you look like a complete idiot." She dissolved into a fit of giggles. "I can't believe you wore that! Honestly, it's awful!"
"It is not," he protested. "It's sublime. And it's a quite useful and fearfully clever mathematical tool, you know." He held a section up between his hands. "The distance between this purple stripe and the wider of the yellow ones is exactly one-quarter of this larger section - " he slid his hands further apart " - and one-eighteenth of the scarf as a whole." Tossing it over her head, he reached around her shoulders for one end of the scarf. "Each bit of fringe - " he held it before her face and Rose tickled it playfully. The Doctor's eyes narrowed slightly. "Mmmm ... uh, each bit of fringe is precisely one-forty-fourth of the total length, you can see how that would be handy. These red and blue stripes here are a perfect illustration of the golden ratio - not just practical, it's quite aesthetically pleasing too, as you can see. And then there's the fact that this bit here," he added, gently stroking her cheek with a stripe of brown wool, "is exactly the colour of your eyes."
Rose blinked, realising suddenly that the Doctor had somehow managed to wrap the both of them up in twenty-one feet of striped wool as he talked. He tugged on the scarf, bringing their bodies together, and she slipped her arms around him. "I'm not sure how useful that last part is," she smiled. "Mathematically, anyway." He arched against her as she stroked his back through the coils of wool, and found her lips with his own.
"Simple," the Doctor purred. He kissed her slowly, his tongue gently slipping between her lips, his hands tangled in her hair, and Rose felt the familiar fluttery warmth spreading upwards from her belly. He broke away and grinned down at her wickedly. "It's basic maths."
"Oh, no!" she groaned, giggling. "No, don't say it! Please!"
"I'm afraid so," he nodded gravely, eyes twinkling. " ... Addition."
***
"Like me to help you look for your jumper?"
Rose stretched luxuriously and rolled back into the Doctor's arms. "No thanks," she said, snuggling against him and pulling a section of the scarf up to cover them both. "I'm quite warm now."
"Good," he murmured, nuzzling her hair.
She toyed with a bit of fringe lying across his chest. "I suppose you can keep the scarf," she said.
"Oh, ta. Can I?"
"Mmm-hmm." She glanced up at his eyes, glowing with pleasure. "But you are not wearing it out of the TARDIS."
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Ten/Rose
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Summary: Rose finds one of the Doctor's souvenirs.
Notes: Just a fluffy bit I wrote up in the midst of doing twelve other things ...
• Inspired in part by one of the pop-up notes on the DVD of "The Pyramids of Mars" (Fourth Doctor).
• And: the scarf measurement comes from one I knitted for The Scotsman's father for Christmas, from the Season 12 pattern. (Though the other measurements and mathy things are made up, as I didn't measure the stripes and all before I gave it away.)
WOOL
"Where did you get that?"
Rose glanced up, startled, and looked guiltily down at the magazine in her lap. "Oh, well, Mum gave me a pile of them last time we visited. I know, they're complete trash, but if you're not going to let me have the telly on once in a while out here then how else am I supposed to keep up with -"
"Not the magazine," the Doctor interrupted. "And I told you, you can watch bloody EastEnders all you want as long as I'm not actually in the TARDIS at the time. Where did you get that thing you're wearing?" He nodded at the coils of scarf wrapped about her shoulders and spread over her lap like a long, skinny blanket. Rose stroked the striped wool, sending a tiny shiver of pleasure up his spine.
"Oh, this - I was cold. I can't find my red jumper anywhere and for some reason the TARDIS wouldn't let me back to my bedroom. I ended up in a disused wardrobe," Rose explained, referring to the ship's unnerving habit of rearranging rooms and passageways at random. "You'll want to have a talking to her about that," she added. "Anyhow, I know it's horrible - I mean, beige and purple? Looks like a dentist's waiting room - but it is warm. Where'd it come from, anyway?"
The Doctor crossed his arms and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "It's mine," he said.
Rose howled with laughter and tossed her magazine aside. "It's what?"
"It's mine. Well, it was. A few regenerations ago."
"What were you, twelve foot tall?"
"Not a bit of it. I was taller, certainly, but - "
She stood and unwound the scarf from her body. "But it's got to be twenty foot long!"
"Twenty-one feet, three and two-thirds inches, actually, " the Doctor mumbled. "And it's quite stylish." Rose glanced at him dubiously, tossed a loop around his shoulders and stepped back to regard him. He struck a dashing pose. "Well? What do you think?"
She pursed her lips thoughtfully, head tilted first to one side, then the other. "I think," she said finally, " ... that you look like a complete idiot." She dissolved into a fit of giggles. "I can't believe you wore that! Honestly, it's awful!"
"It is not," he protested. "It's sublime. And it's a quite useful and fearfully clever mathematical tool, you know." He held a section up between his hands. "The distance between this purple stripe and the wider of the yellow ones is exactly one-quarter of this larger section - " he slid his hands further apart " - and one-eighteenth of the scarf as a whole." Tossing it over her head, he reached around her shoulders for one end of the scarf. "Each bit of fringe - " he held it before her face and Rose tickled it playfully. The Doctor's eyes narrowed slightly. "Mmmm ... uh, each bit of fringe is precisely one-forty-fourth of the total length, you can see how that would be handy. These red and blue stripes here are a perfect illustration of the golden ratio - not just practical, it's quite aesthetically pleasing too, as you can see. And then there's the fact that this bit here," he added, gently stroking her cheek with a stripe of brown wool, "is exactly the colour of your eyes."
Rose blinked, realising suddenly that the Doctor had somehow managed to wrap the both of them up in twenty-one feet of striped wool as he talked. He tugged on the scarf, bringing their bodies together, and she slipped her arms around him. "I'm not sure how useful that last part is," she smiled. "Mathematically, anyway." He arched against her as she stroked his back through the coils of wool, and found her lips with his own.
"Simple," the Doctor purred. He kissed her slowly, his tongue gently slipping between her lips, his hands tangled in her hair, and Rose felt the familiar fluttery warmth spreading upwards from her belly. He broke away and grinned down at her wickedly. "It's basic maths."
"Oh, no!" she groaned, giggling. "No, don't say it! Please!"
"I'm afraid so," he nodded gravely, eyes twinkling. " ... Addition."
***
"Like me to help you look for your jumper?"
Rose stretched luxuriously and rolled back into the Doctor's arms. "No thanks," she said, snuggling against him and pulling a section of the scarf up to cover them both. "I'm quite warm now."
"Good," he murmured, nuzzling her hair.
She toyed with a bit of fringe lying across his chest. "I suppose you can keep the scarf," she said.
"Oh, ta. Can I?"
"Mmm-hmm." She glanced up at his eyes, glowing with pleasure. "But you are not wearing it out of the TARDIS."