Supporting Role
TITLE: Supporting Role
AUTHOR: Geordie Chick
RATING: PG
CHARACTERS: Ninth Doctor/Rose
For Emerald Eye Daughter who is poorly, a good Nine fic is my best medicine.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own them, if did it would be late night Doctor Who and CE would get a haircut.
“I’m really not sure about this...” The Doctor pauses and looks up at the towering windows of Hendricks. He thinks they looked more daunting now than when the Autons were alive.
“… It’s the only shop I trust.” Rose pushes him through one of the many glass-paned, heavy doors and into the marble floored lobby which is packed full of shoppers. He flinches in horror at the crowd and pulls her closer in an effort not to lose her.
“Remind me again, what was wrong with a voucher?” The Doctor saunters over to the lifts and gazes at the vast wooden board that describes the departments on each floor, “See, customer service is only round this corner, I can buy you one there.”
The Doctor is striding away before Rose can remind him that she knows every square inch of this building after working here for so long and she doesn’t want to know how he’ll buy a voucher, his grasp of money seems decidedly vague. He’s wandering off again - oh, the irony of the man - so Rose darts through the crowds and slips her hand into his as the Doctor marches only for him to suddenly stop dead. Rose finds herself bumping straight into his back. She lingers for a moment to savour the smell that she loves whilst he starts talking about something or another. It’s a scent she can’t describe but knows it’s him and leather and she can get lost in it…Mmmmm.
“Rose? You okay?” The Doctor peers down at her in concern. His blue eyes are shockingly close as she opens her own in surprise to meet his face. The Doctor runs a cool hand over her forehead and mutters, “bit hot…”
“Yes, it’s warm in here,” she nimbly plants her hands on his shoulders and spins him back around to avoid her embarrassment. “That’s why vouchers are useless.”
“We could come back when the queue doesn’t exist? Time machine an’ all that…” It’s his final offer in face of the ungodly queue that snakes past kitchenware and into bed linen. As Rose drags him into the lift, he realises it’s insufficient. It’s going to be a hard afternoon in many ways. With a sigh, he follows her, just as he always does.
Xxxxxxxx
“Don’t even think about it!” Rose warns him as he fingers the sonic screwdriver buried deep in his pocket.
“What?” He feigns innocence and beams what he hopes is a reassuring grin.
“You were going to stop the lift.” She hisses and not for the first time he wonders if his thoughts are as visible to her as bubbles in a cartoon strip.
“I do hope you’re not.” An elderly lady with steel hair and a forthright attitude that reminds him instantly of Jackie, eyes him over her spectacles. Her friends murmur in agreement. “I’ll call the store manager and have you thrown out.”
The Doctor doesn’t doubt that she will and wonders if this might be his excuse to leave. One look at Rose’s face and he knows he must stay. The woman leans forward, “I mean it. Not everyone wants to be stuck in a lift. With you.”
“He’s only joking.” Rose has linked her hand through his arm and looks positively bashful. The Doctor finds it endearing. “We’re newly married and still in that honeymoon phase…he gets a bit carried away, he’s so romantic.”
The Doctor nods enthusiastically, “I wanted to steel a kiss.”
He tenderly cups her cheek and Rose finds herself temporarily mesmerised for the second time in less than five minutes. His lips are within distance and she yearns for him to deliver on what his eyes seem to want. What she wants too. Rose doesn’t tend to give headspace to violent thoughts but she could happily strangle whoever coughed and ruined the moment with a sharp dose of germs. Rose realises the Doctor is talking again, “I forgot that you were in the lift with us. What she said. I’m a passionate man. So in love that I’m prepared to go shopping for underwear on a Saturday afternoon.”
The collective group smile and murmur their congratulations. Their approval is tested somewhat when the Doctor and Rose leave the lift and Rose tells them that her husband ripped the rest.
Rose’s revelation to the crowd in the lift made him laugh. It’s not far from the truth though; he had ripped the rest of it but not in the way that he might have desired. The wires from her bras had proved very useful in mending the Tardis and picking locks. Now he’d worked his way through her drawers and left Rose unsupported. His offer to support her himself was turned down in favour of shopping although Rose had at least had the decency to consider the value of his large hands. He was even prepared to trial it if she so pleased. Rose agreed to a compromise. If Hendricks failed to stock what she wanted the Doctor could try out his own brand of personal support hence his reluctance to help so far. His laughter dies in his throat as he looks at the vast collection of underwear, which decorates the lingerie department of Hendricks.
“So what sort of err…fit, do you want?” The Doctor finds himself fascinated and equally disheartened by the sheer number of bras.
Rose appeared beside him, armed with silken goodies in a rainbow of colours. Dumping them into his arms, she answered his query with a demonstration using her hands to manipulate her chest to confirm it was going to be a hard afternoon; “Push it up ones are called balcony; then there’s lift and separate or minimisers. You’ll remember once you’ve helped me try them on and test them out.”
She glances behind her and giggles for the Doctor is rendered speechless, his jaw hovering somewhere inches above the floor, and she waits for him to follow her.
“I am going to need matching knickers too…”
AUTHOR: Geordie Chick
RATING: PG
CHARACTERS: Ninth Doctor/Rose
For Emerald Eye Daughter who is poorly, a good Nine fic is my best medicine.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own them, if did it would be late night Doctor Who and CE would get a haircut.
“I’m really not sure about this...” The Doctor pauses and looks up at the towering windows of Hendricks. He thinks they looked more daunting now than when the Autons were alive.
“… It’s the only shop I trust.” Rose pushes him through one of the many glass-paned, heavy doors and into the marble floored lobby which is packed full of shoppers. He flinches in horror at the crowd and pulls her closer in an effort not to lose her.
“Remind me again, what was wrong with a voucher?” The Doctor saunters over to the lifts and gazes at the vast wooden board that describes the departments on each floor, “See, customer service is only round this corner, I can buy you one there.”
The Doctor is striding away before Rose can remind him that she knows every square inch of this building after working here for so long and she doesn’t want to know how he’ll buy a voucher, his grasp of money seems decidedly vague. He’s wandering off again - oh, the irony of the man - so Rose darts through the crowds and slips her hand into his as the Doctor marches only for him to suddenly stop dead. Rose finds herself bumping straight into his back. She lingers for a moment to savour the smell that she loves whilst he starts talking about something or another. It’s a scent she can’t describe but knows it’s him and leather and she can get lost in it…Mmmmm.
“Rose? You okay?” The Doctor peers down at her in concern. His blue eyes are shockingly close as she opens her own in surprise to meet his face. The Doctor runs a cool hand over her forehead and mutters, “bit hot…”
“Yes, it’s warm in here,” she nimbly plants her hands on his shoulders and spins him back around to avoid her embarrassment. “That’s why vouchers are useless.”
“We could come back when the queue doesn’t exist? Time machine an’ all that…” It’s his final offer in face of the ungodly queue that snakes past kitchenware and into bed linen. As Rose drags him into the lift, he realises it’s insufficient. It’s going to be a hard afternoon in many ways. With a sigh, he follows her, just as he always does.
Xxxxxxxx
“Don’t even think about it!” Rose warns him as he fingers the sonic screwdriver buried deep in his pocket.
“What?” He feigns innocence and beams what he hopes is a reassuring grin.
“You were going to stop the lift.” She hisses and not for the first time he wonders if his thoughts are as visible to her as bubbles in a cartoon strip.
“I do hope you’re not.” An elderly lady with steel hair and a forthright attitude that reminds him instantly of Jackie, eyes him over her spectacles. Her friends murmur in agreement. “I’ll call the store manager and have you thrown out.”
The Doctor doesn’t doubt that she will and wonders if this might be his excuse to leave. One look at Rose’s face and he knows he must stay. The woman leans forward, “I mean it. Not everyone wants to be stuck in a lift. With you.”
“He’s only joking.” Rose has linked her hand through his arm and looks positively bashful. The Doctor finds it endearing. “We’re newly married and still in that honeymoon phase…he gets a bit carried away, he’s so romantic.”
The Doctor nods enthusiastically, “I wanted to steel a kiss.”
He tenderly cups her cheek and Rose finds herself temporarily mesmerised for the second time in less than five minutes. His lips are within distance and she yearns for him to deliver on what his eyes seem to want. What she wants too. Rose doesn’t tend to give headspace to violent thoughts but she could happily strangle whoever coughed and ruined the moment with a sharp dose of germs. Rose realises the Doctor is talking again, “I forgot that you were in the lift with us. What she said. I’m a passionate man. So in love that I’m prepared to go shopping for underwear on a Saturday afternoon.”
The collective group smile and murmur their congratulations. Their approval is tested somewhat when the Doctor and Rose leave the lift and Rose tells them that her husband ripped the rest.
Rose’s revelation to the crowd in the lift made him laugh. It’s not far from the truth though; he had ripped the rest of it but not in the way that he might have desired. The wires from her bras had proved very useful in mending the Tardis and picking locks. Now he’d worked his way through her drawers and left Rose unsupported. His offer to support her himself was turned down in favour of shopping although Rose had at least had the decency to consider the value of his large hands. He was even prepared to trial it if she so pleased. Rose agreed to a compromise. If Hendricks failed to stock what she wanted the Doctor could try out his own brand of personal support hence his reluctance to help so far. His laughter dies in his throat as he looks at the vast collection of underwear, which decorates the lingerie department of Hendricks.
“So what sort of err…fit, do you want?” The Doctor finds himself fascinated and equally disheartened by the sheer number of bras.
Rose appeared beside him, armed with silken goodies in a rainbow of colours. Dumping them into his arms, she answered his query with a demonstration using her hands to manipulate her chest to confirm it was going to be a hard afternoon; “Push it up ones are called balcony; then there’s lift and separate or minimisers. You’ll remember once you’ve helped me try them on and test them out.”
She glances behind her and giggles for the Doctor is rendered speechless, his jaw hovering somewhere inches above the floor, and she waits for him to follow her.
“I am going to need matching knickers too…”