Ten/Rose, PG
Title: All Washed Up
Author: christn7
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Ten/Rose
Spoilers: None
Author's notes: A short, cracky ficlet for kae_nine. Sorry it's not a drabble, my dear. :) And sorry to everyone else for all the spam today.
Summary: He pushes himself from under the console, glaring all the while because, surely, that’s better than staring.
--
All Washed Up
--
Rose walks in, all bare feet, long legs and loose fitting shirt - his shirt, he might add - and he has to make a conscious effort not to stare.
He’s seen her naked, for goodness sake, a shirt should be nothing.
It doesn’t really work as an argument, though, and he finds the staring insists on continuing.
Until, of course, he manages to burn himself on some stripped wires and then the staring decides to behave itself and make scarce. He curses under his breath and sticks his sore finger into his mouth.
She notices, naturally, and grins as she turns her back to him.
He pushes himself from under the console, glaring all the while because, surely, that’s better than staring. He pulls his finger out of his mouth briefly to ask, “Problem with your wardrobe?”
“Lost the laundry room,” she quips, raising an eyebrow at him over her shoulder. “Told you about it weeks ago.”
“Did you?” he asks, feigning ignorance.
“Resorted to pilfering from the wardrobe,” she says, spinning around to face him. “Hadn’t you noticed all the... costumes?”
He had. He’d just thought she’d... well, never mind what he’d thought, eh?
“So you thought you’d help yourself to my shirt?”
She shrugs and the garment rides up a few inches, revealing more of those legs.
He tries to swallow but finds he can’t.
“Well,” she says, toying with a button and drawing his eyes upwards, “it’s all that was there.”
“Doesn’t make it alright,” he says.
“But it’s all there was, Doctor.”
There’s something about her tone that makes it through his suddenly addled brain - her words are deliberate and when he snaps his eyes up to her face she’s grinning again, tongue playing over the top of her teeth.
All there was.
Oh.
The staring reappears with renewed vigour and he decides he’s never going to wash that shirt.
“Tell you what,” she says, when it’s clear he’s not going to - not able to - respond. “If you help me find the laundry room, I’ll let you have the shirt back and you can help take it off.”
He’s fairly certain - and a touch embarrassed to admit - that he’s never moved so fast.
Author: christn7
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Ten/Rose
Spoilers: None
Author's notes: A short, cracky ficlet for kae_nine. Sorry it's not a drabble, my dear. :) And sorry to everyone else for all the spam today.
Summary: He pushes himself from under the console, glaring all the while because, surely, that’s better than staring.
--
All Washed Up
--
Rose walks in, all bare feet, long legs and loose fitting shirt - his shirt, he might add - and he has to make a conscious effort not to stare.
He’s seen her naked, for goodness sake, a shirt should be nothing.
It doesn’t really work as an argument, though, and he finds the staring insists on continuing.
Until, of course, he manages to burn himself on some stripped wires and then the staring decides to behave itself and make scarce. He curses under his breath and sticks his sore finger into his mouth.
She notices, naturally, and grins as she turns her back to him.
He pushes himself from under the console, glaring all the while because, surely, that’s better than staring. He pulls his finger out of his mouth briefly to ask, “Problem with your wardrobe?”
“Lost the laundry room,” she quips, raising an eyebrow at him over her shoulder. “Told you about it weeks ago.”
“Did you?” he asks, feigning ignorance.
“Resorted to pilfering from the wardrobe,” she says, spinning around to face him. “Hadn’t you noticed all the... costumes?”
He had. He’d just thought she’d... well, never mind what he’d thought, eh?
“So you thought you’d help yourself to my shirt?”
She shrugs and the garment rides up a few inches, revealing more of those legs.
He tries to swallow but finds he can’t.
“Well,” she says, toying with a button and drawing his eyes upwards, “it’s all that was there.”
“Doesn’t make it alright,” he says.
“But it’s all there was, Doctor.”
There’s something about her tone that makes it through his suddenly addled brain - her words are deliberate and when he snaps his eyes up to her face she’s grinning again, tongue playing over the top of her teeth.
All there was.
Oh.
The staring reappears with renewed vigour and he decides he’s never going to wash that shirt.
“Tell you what,” she says, when it’s clear he’s not going to - not able to - respond. “If you help me find the laundry room, I’ll let you have the shirt back and you can help take it off.”
He’s fairly certain - and a touch embarrassed to admit - that he’s never moved so fast.