Ten/Rose, PG, No Spoilers
Title: At The Start
Author: christn7
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Ten/Rose
Spoilers: None
Author's notes: Fluff for my dear kae_nine. Not yet BR'd, all mistakes are my own.
Summary: It didn’t start how he’d imagined it would, though. No, not at all.
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At The Start
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It wasn't how he imagined it’d start, not at all.
He'd expected it would, eventually, of course - all that tension between them and it had to come to a head - at least the one time. Possibly twice. If he’s very lucky - or very, very good - it might have happened a third time, in the shower, the morning after the once or possibly twice.
It didn’t start how he’d imagined it would, though. No, not at all.
When it happened she wasn't wearing anything sexy and he wasn’t trying to seduce her - they weren’t overcome with lust or passion or burning desire. She didn’t confess feelings for him - thank goodness - and he didn’t feel the need to lay anything bare.
They hadn’t even been running or hiding or saving the world - any of them - and there wasn’t any adrenaline to lay blame on, should the need arise in the not-so-very-lucky version of his morning after.
They’d been in the library, sitting quietly, reading through almost all of what passed for a day, and each time he’d looked up, every time he’d looked up, she’d been there, right across from him, safe and sound and smiling.
He’d been content. He’d been... he’d been so very glad. And grateful. And maybe that’s what started it, the very thing what broke the last straw. She’d been there, every time, reading her ridiculous excuse for a novel - The Time Machine? Honestly? - and he’d been glad. Just to see her sitting there, messy ponytail and loose pyjamas, cheeky grin and deep brown eyes.
He’d kissed her. Had to, in the end. The kiss was warm and soft and decidedly gentle and it’d been nothing like he’d imagined, not at all. It’d been better.
Author: christn7
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Ten/Rose
Spoilers: None
Author's notes: Fluff for my dear kae_nine. Not yet BR'd, all mistakes are my own.
Summary: It didn’t start how he’d imagined it would, though. No, not at all.
--
At The Start
--
It wasn't how he imagined it’d start, not at all.
He'd expected it would, eventually, of course - all that tension between them and it had to come to a head - at least the one time. Possibly twice. If he’s very lucky - or very, very good - it might have happened a third time, in the shower, the morning after the once or possibly twice.
It didn’t start how he’d imagined it would, though. No, not at all.
When it happened she wasn't wearing anything sexy and he wasn’t trying to seduce her - they weren’t overcome with lust or passion or burning desire. She didn’t confess feelings for him - thank goodness - and he didn’t feel the need to lay anything bare.
They hadn’t even been running or hiding or saving the world - any of them - and there wasn’t any adrenaline to lay blame on, should the need arise in the not-so-very-lucky version of his morning after.
They’d been in the library, sitting quietly, reading through almost all of what passed for a day, and each time he’d looked up, every time he’d looked up, she’d been there, right across from him, safe and sound and smiling.
He’d been content. He’d been... he’d been so very glad. And grateful. And maybe that’s what started it, the very thing what broke the last straw. She’d been there, every time, reading her ridiculous excuse for a novel - The Time Machine? Honestly? - and he’d been glad. Just to see her sitting there, messy ponytail and loose pyjamas, cheeky grin and deep brown eyes.
He’d kissed her. Had to, in the end. The kiss was warm and soft and decidedly gentle and it’d been nothing like he’d imagined, not at all. It’d been better.