(Untitled)
As Fair Art Thou, TenII/Rose, PG
Dedicated to professor_spork, on the occasion of her 21st birthday.
Rose wakes to the faint tickle of breath in her ear canal. The Doctor prods her bare shoulder with one finger, probably thinking he’s being gentle. “Rose,” he repeats in a more insistent whisper, “what are you doing today?” 1,502
( ... )
Dedicated to professor_spork, on the occasion of her 21st birthday.
Rose wakes to the faint tickle of breath in her ear canal. The Doctor prods her bare shoulder with one finger, probably thinking he’s being gentle. “Rose,” he repeats in a more insistent whisper, “what are you doing today?” 1,502
( ... )
DROWSY ROSE. You know what I liiiiiike =]
Rose groans, squeezing her eyes shut. “M’sleeping, Doctor. That’s what I’m doing today.”
“What, all day?” he asks, sounding affronted and apparently finished with whispering.
CLOEN YOU ARE MY FAVORITE.
The Doctor slides closer and rearranges his body around hers, burrowing into her hair with his nose and stilling. Rose smiles, reaching back to pull his arm over her stomach. She is hovering somewhere between wake and sleep when the Doctor speaks again, voice muffled by her hair. “It’s just, the car’s already packed.”
She twists to face him, the end of her nose just brushing his. “And what car would that be?” she asks, catching her lower lip in her teeth.
I love how intimate and snuggly and tactile this is. I can hear the rustling sheets.
Rose waits a few minutes before following him, but it’s only for show.
<3333333
(“You can’t just scrap it! It’s beautiful!” he’d protested, and looked astonished when one of the men replied that it was “just junk.” Pete asked later why he’d wanted it so badly, and the Doctor had shrugged and said “Old and blue, good enough for me,” and Rose wanted to laugh and to cry but instead she just smiled at him.)
CLOEN CLOEN CLOEN YOU ARE MY FAVORITE DOCTOR.
“The fifth moon of Raxacoricofallapatorius?” “Rose, please. Raxacoricofallapatorius only has three moons.”
LOVE.
Rose stares, open-mouthed, at the cloud-laced emerald peaks rising up on either side and in front of the car. “You’ve driven me to Scotland?”
WHERE CAN I GET ONE?
“Yes! About one hundred and thirty years ago today, we were in this very country, being harassed by Her Majesty Queen Victoria. Well, one hundred and thirty years ago today relatively speaking, of course.”
She raises her eyebrows. “She was harassing us?”
“Well.” He shrugs. “The details are a bit fuzzy. And anyway, we’re not going back to that exact spot. Can’t have the possibility of werewolves ruining our anniversary weekend. So we’re going to Scone!”
“Scoon?”
“Spelled S-c-o-n-e. Like the lovely pastry. Only pronounced scoon, like…the boat. More or less.”
I am so in love with the two of them I cannot even stand it.
That night, after the Doctor falls asleep with his arms wrapped around her, Rose stays awake staring at the stars. She thinks of how many of them she’s seen, and of the ones she never will. She thinks of the old blue car parked just behind them, and of the box it doesn’t quite replace. She thinks of the words whispered in her ear the last time she stood on a beach; the same words whispered in her ear over and over tonight, replaced moments ago by a gentle snoring. And she thinks that this adventure isn’t as good as the ones in the box among the stars - it’s better.
When she finally falls asleep, Rose dreams of mountains.
Oh, bb, this is just... perfect. SO PERFECT.
NEVER GO SO LONG WITHOUT WRITING THEM AGAIN. KAY? KAY.
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♥
Heeeeeeeeeee I'm SO GLAD you liked it! :-D I promise I won't wait so long anymore. Never ever. Probably.
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