(no subject)
Ignition. Nine/Rose, PG
She shouldn’t be looking at him like that. So very young, even by human standards; she’s as green as the TARDIS light plaiting itself through the ribbons of her hair. Doesn’t she know he’s the man with his finger on the trigger, still debating that one left in the barrel? 678 w.
A/N: This fic was written for the lovely akkajemo as a birthday present - sorry it's a few days late, bb! Written to correspond with Challenge 85.
Thank you, as ever, to my beta, kilodalton, whose unsung criticism and encouragement always makes me better ... and, in this case, darker. xo! - L
No scowling or brooding from him right now, because - Well. Even though the story’s only just started, he’s already won the girl, hasn’t he? No contest, really. Think of the alternative, that lump back there, weighing her down like a stone. And, NO, he didn’t ask her twice. He just wanted to give her the opportunity to make a more informed decision, regarding the whole ‘travels in time’ aspect of the bargain. Have all the facts. So, yeah, a bit smug now, lofting and catching that rubine glass orb like it’s the apple used to catch Eve. Or was it Adam? It’s a good story, either way. Who wouldn’t want to take a bite out of all that knowledge?
Right then, Rose Tyler - you tell me, where do you want to go? Backwards or forwards in time. It’s your choice. What’s it going to be?
He relinquishes control to her. As he latches to those eager, amber eyes, flecked with fire, he knows it won’t be the last time. Thinks he might be able to live with that.
She picks Forwards. Of course she does. Bursting through the door, Rose Tyler is all forward motion. She bounces onto the grate as if her feet have always known the way; he needed only to leave the door open. He likes the feel of her whole name curling his lips, pressed to the back of his teeth. Rose Tyler. It is all at once soft and sharp, which is already his impression of her. Rassilon, he knows he’s grinning like a fool. It’s like someone’s spiked the punch, this feeling of being chosen. It makes him want to impress her. He flips the switch, spins the dial and they’re gone -
100 years.
He observes her reactions - he can’t seem to look away, really - as his ship rocks and shimmies through time and space. With her knees bent and arms stretched wide as she grips the edge of the console, he beams his approval. She’s strong and quick, which is vital; there’s no room for a shrinking violet when up against Vermicious Knids on some backwater planet, up to your necks in slime. Laughing, she checks the console with her hip like it’s a pinball machine - a sentiment he can appreciate. Still, he needs for her to understand that it’s tough out there - not a game. That he isn’t Willy-bloody-Wonka and he won’t be candy-coating what he does for her. She’s already proven she deserves that respect.
That’s a bit boring. Do you want to go further?
Fine by me!
The air is fizzy around Rose Tyler; he inhales deep to drink her down. Warmth spreads like sparks just under his skin, making his palms itch to capture her fingers again.
He distracts his empty hands with the controls, hurtling them further and faster than before.
10,000 years.
His voice cracks like a schoolboy when she dares to tease him -
You wish!
She shouldn’t be looking at him like that. So very young, even by human standards; she’s as green as the TARDIS light plaiting itself through the ribbons of her hair. Doesn’t she know he’s the man with his finger on the trigger, still debating that one left in the barrel?
A look like that could make a man forget what he is - what he’s done. Make him hope for things he shouldn’t.
He knows he should just take her back. Split him down the center and the layers each tell the same tale: He is Midas to the core, ruining everything he touches. He already feels her worth - no fool’s gold, Rose Tyler. How can he let go of this?
Be me for a while.
How long would it take for her to run screaming back to beans on toast?
Here and now, it’s just the opposite: As the ship rattles around them, he marvels at her smile growing wide with anticipation, clearly loving the adventure of just going. He thinks it’s like watching the sun expand.
He knows exactly where to take her.
She shouldn’t be looking at him like that. So very young, even by human standards; she’s as green as the TARDIS light plaiting itself through the ribbons of her hair. Doesn’t she know he’s the man with his finger on the trigger, still debating that one left in the barrel? 678 w.
A/N: This fic was written for the lovely akkajemo as a birthday present - sorry it's a few days late, bb! Written to correspond with Challenge 85.
Thank you, as ever, to my beta, kilodalton, whose unsung criticism and encouragement always makes me better ... and, in this case, darker. xo! - L
No scowling or brooding from him right now, because - Well. Even though the story’s only just started, he’s already won the girl, hasn’t he? No contest, really. Think of the alternative, that lump back there, weighing her down like a stone. And, NO, he didn’t ask her twice. He just wanted to give her the opportunity to make a more informed decision, regarding the whole ‘travels in time’ aspect of the bargain. Have all the facts. So, yeah, a bit smug now, lofting and catching that rubine glass orb like it’s the apple used to catch Eve. Or was it Adam? It’s a good story, either way. Who wouldn’t want to take a bite out of all that knowledge?
Right then, Rose Tyler - you tell me, where do you want to go? Backwards or forwards in time. It’s your choice. What’s it going to be?
He relinquishes control to her. As he latches to those eager, amber eyes, flecked with fire, he knows it won’t be the last time. Thinks he might be able to live with that.
She picks Forwards. Of course she does. Bursting through the door, Rose Tyler is all forward motion. She bounces onto the grate as if her feet have always known the way; he needed only to leave the door open. He likes the feel of her whole name curling his lips, pressed to the back of his teeth. Rose Tyler. It is all at once soft and sharp, which is already his impression of her. Rassilon, he knows he’s grinning like a fool. It’s like someone’s spiked the punch, this feeling of being chosen. It makes him want to impress her. He flips the switch, spins the dial and they’re gone -
100 years.
He observes her reactions - he can’t seem to look away, really - as his ship rocks and shimmies through time and space. With her knees bent and arms stretched wide as she grips the edge of the console, he beams his approval. She’s strong and quick, which is vital; there’s no room for a shrinking violet when up against Vermicious Knids on some backwater planet, up to your necks in slime. Laughing, she checks the console with her hip like it’s a pinball machine - a sentiment he can appreciate. Still, he needs for her to understand that it’s tough out there - not a game. That he isn’t Willy-bloody-Wonka and he won’t be candy-coating what he does for her. She’s already proven she deserves that respect.
That’s a bit boring. Do you want to go further?
Fine by me!
The air is fizzy around Rose Tyler; he inhales deep to drink her down. Warmth spreads like sparks just under his skin, making his palms itch to capture her fingers again.
He distracts his empty hands with the controls, hurtling them further and faster than before.
10,000 years.
His voice cracks like a schoolboy when she dares to tease him -
You wish!
She shouldn’t be looking at him like that. So very young, even by human standards; she’s as green as the TARDIS light plaiting itself through the ribbons of her hair. Doesn’t she know he’s the man with his finger on the trigger, still debating that one left in the barrel?
A look like that could make a man forget what he is - what he’s done. Make him hope for things he shouldn’t.
He knows he should just take her back. Split him down the center and the layers each tell the same tale: He is Midas to the core, ruining everything he touches. He already feels her worth - no fool’s gold, Rose Tyler. How can he let go of this?
Be me for a while.
How long would it take for her to run screaming back to beans on toast?
Here and now, it’s just the opposite: As the ship rattles around them, he marvels at her smile growing wide with anticipation, clearly loving the adventure of just going. He thinks it’s like watching the sun expand.
He knows exactly where to take her.