(no subject)
Title: False Alarms
Author: dave7
Rating: G
Characters/Pairing: Ten/Rose
Spoilers: None
Author's notes: Fluffy ficlet for my poor, sick imaginary_iby. Inspired by #6 of the June Pic Prompts.
Summary: There’s no smoke and probably nothing at all to worry about, but that doesn’t stop the twenty-three people around them - nineteen of whom are from the bride’s side, thanks very much - from panicking as the staff herd them towards the exits.
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False Alarms
--
There’s a wail of a warning from somewhere near the kitchen and then it rains down on them, unexpected and wet and horribly cold.
There’s no smoke and probably nothing at all to worry about, but that doesn’t stop the twenty-three people around them - nineteen of whom are from the bride’s side, thanks very much - from panicking as the staff herd them towards the exits.
Rose doesn’t, though.
He’s not surprised.
She stands in the middle of the dance floor, watching the room dissolve into chaos around her. He expected she’d be upset - a little, at the very least - but he can see the amusement dancing across her face.
Her dress is quickly soaked and the cake - much to his dismay - is completely ruined, but he just looks at her, manic grin and wide eyes, wrinkles and laughter lines and she grins at him.
When she holds out her hand he moves to meet her in the middle of the floor, footsteps rippling behind him. He waves off the waitress who tries to steer them outside, and she bumps against him with her big, round belly as he takes her in his arms.
He grins and leans close, dripping water on her. “Run?”
She shakes her head. “Not this time.”
They waltz - the bride and groom, for the first time - to a symphony of alarms.
He thinks, all things considered, it’s rather fitting.
Author: dave7
Rating: G
Characters/Pairing: Ten/Rose
Spoilers: None
Author's notes: Fluffy ficlet for my poor, sick imaginary_iby. Inspired by #6 of the June Pic Prompts.
Summary: There’s no smoke and probably nothing at all to worry about, but that doesn’t stop the twenty-three people around them - nineteen of whom are from the bride’s side, thanks very much - from panicking as the staff herd them towards the exits.
--
False Alarms
--
There’s a wail of a warning from somewhere near the kitchen and then it rains down on them, unexpected and wet and horribly cold.
There’s no smoke and probably nothing at all to worry about, but that doesn’t stop the twenty-three people around them - nineteen of whom are from the bride’s side, thanks very much - from panicking as the staff herd them towards the exits.
Rose doesn’t, though.
He’s not surprised.
She stands in the middle of the dance floor, watching the room dissolve into chaos around her. He expected she’d be upset - a little, at the very least - but he can see the amusement dancing across her face.
Her dress is quickly soaked and the cake - much to his dismay - is completely ruined, but he just looks at her, manic grin and wide eyes, wrinkles and laughter lines and she grins at him.
When she holds out her hand he moves to meet her in the middle of the floor, footsteps rippling behind him. He waves off the waitress who tries to steer them outside, and she bumps against him with her big, round belly as he takes her in his arms.
He grins and leans close, dripping water on her. “Run?”
She shakes her head. “Not this time.”
They waltz - the bride and groom, for the first time - to a symphony of alarms.
He thinks, all things considered, it’s rather fitting.