Ten/Rose, G, No Spoilers
Title: Grand Old Giver of Gifts
Author: christn7
Rating: G
Characters/Pairing: Ten/Rose
Spoilers: None, really.
Author's notes: For dark_aegis, just because. I'm not quite sure it meets your prompt, my dear, but at least it's not angst, right? *g* Not BR'd, all mistakes are my own. :)
Summary: He steps into her room and she smiles at him from beneath the mountain of blanket and pillow and tissue surrounding her. He smiles back, pleased to see her, despite the fact that she looks, he must admit, an absolute mess.
--
Grand Old Giver of Gifts
--
He steps into her room and she smiles at him from beneath the mountain of blanket and pillow and tissue surrounding her. He smiles back, pleased to see her, despite the fact that she looks, he must admit, an absolute mess.
Still, he missed that face, even when it’s framed with knotted hair. She’s even cute, he thinks, with her nose red, eyes bleary, brow... wrinkled?
“You didn’t.”
He’s confused. He did - of course he did. She can see plain well that he did. He tells her so.
“You weren’t supposed to,” she informs him, close to laughter.
“Why not?” He’s starting to feel a little awkward standing as he is, just inside her doorway.
This is what he was meant to do, wasn’t it?
He stares at the bundle in his arms, as if expecting an explanation from it, and she snorts - and then coughs - and he’s still confused. They’re her favourite - his too - and there’s a whole twelve of them which, he’s been informed, is the correct number for these sorts of occasions. Add all of that together and it, he thinks, makes him a grand old giver of gifts. “I brought you something pretty - that’s what you do when someone you like very, very much is feeling very, very poorly.”
He looks up at her again and she smiles at him, all of a sudden. When she pats the duvet, brushing off tissues as she does so, he’s all too happy to stride across the room and plop down next to her, even though he’s still only feeling slightly less than awkward.
“Thank you,” she says, sniffling loudly, red eyes redder.
“You’re welcome,” he says, handing her the bouquet.
She places it on her lap, hands free to slide into his. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to eat all these bananas, though.”
He, gift giver extraordinaire, offers to help.
Author: christn7
Rating: G
Characters/Pairing: Ten/Rose
Spoilers: None, really.
Author's notes: For dark_aegis, just because. I'm not quite sure it meets your prompt, my dear, but at least it's not angst, right? *g* Not BR'd, all mistakes are my own. :)
Summary: He steps into her room and she smiles at him from beneath the mountain of blanket and pillow and tissue surrounding her. He smiles back, pleased to see her, despite the fact that she looks, he must admit, an absolute mess.
--
Grand Old Giver of Gifts
--
He steps into her room and she smiles at him from beneath the mountain of blanket and pillow and tissue surrounding her. He smiles back, pleased to see her, despite the fact that she looks, he must admit, an absolute mess.
Still, he missed that face, even when it’s framed with knotted hair. She’s even cute, he thinks, with her nose red, eyes bleary, brow... wrinkled?
“You didn’t.”
He’s confused. He did - of course he did. She can see plain well that he did. He tells her so.
“You weren’t supposed to,” she informs him, close to laughter.
“Why not?” He’s starting to feel a little awkward standing as he is, just inside her doorway.
This is what he was meant to do, wasn’t it?
He stares at the bundle in his arms, as if expecting an explanation from it, and she snorts - and then coughs - and he’s still confused. They’re her favourite - his too - and there’s a whole twelve of them which, he’s been informed, is the correct number for these sorts of occasions. Add all of that together and it, he thinks, makes him a grand old giver of gifts. “I brought you something pretty - that’s what you do when someone you like very, very much is feeling very, very poorly.”
He looks up at her again and she smiles at him, all of a sudden. When she pats the duvet, brushing off tissues as she does so, he’s all too happy to stride across the room and plop down next to her, even though he’s still only feeling slightly less than awkward.
“Thank you,” she says, sniffling loudly, red eyes redder.
“You’re welcome,” he says, handing her the bouquet.
She places it on her lap, hands free to slide into his. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to eat all these bananas, though.”
He, gift giver extraordinaire, offers to help.