Here be a fic dump, of sorts; all G-rated, two drabbles, one ficlet.
Drabble 1: Nine and Rose
Written just because.
Survivors
He unfolds himself in the cupboard that’s now on its side, testing the hands still clutched in his.
Both warm. Both with blood still pulsing through. Both alive.
He did it. He saved the world and saved her.
He owes Mickey Smith one; never thought he’d say that. But it’s worth it.
There’s so much he wants to show her, amazing sights and dawns of new worlds and deaths of old ones. So long since he’s seen the universe through eyes that don’t only see death and destruction.
Outside, he smiles at her. “Come with me?”
She smiles back. “Anywhere.”
Drabble 2: Rose
Written as a tongue-in-cheek tribute to
christn7's new layout.
Believer
She sits on the roof’s edge as darkness falls, staring out into the light-polluted distance, trying to pick out as many of the tiny, twinkling stars as she can.
Each one’s another galaxy. Another world.
They’re billions of miles away, light-years away, yet they look so close she could reach out and touch them.
If only.
Sometimes she likes to imagine that one day she will. Her mum says she’s crazy, but dreaming doesn’t hurt anyone, does it?
Time to make tea - beans on toast; they’ve no money. Again.
They say the truth is out there. She can only dream.
Ficlet 3: Ten, Donna
Written as tongue-in-cheek response to a friend complaining that, for someone who slept her way through the Cyberman/Dalek invasion, Donna seems almost too perfect.
Not So Perfect
“Donna, do me a favour.”
“Bit bleedin’ hard to talk while we’re running for our lives, Doctor!”
“Yeah, well. Next time you feel like trying to sort out someone’s love-life, save it for the characters on EastEnders, will you? At least they won’t take offence by being told to stop whining and grow up! Cause they won’t be able to hear you!”
There’s a wounded silence, or perhaps it’s just that Donna can’t talk while they’re running. A minute or so later, they’re back in the TARDIS and, still breathing heavily, her bosom heaving, she whirls around to face him. “I was only trying to help!”
“Well, don’t next time!”
Rolling his eyes, he throws himself at the console, dematerialising without giving her a chance to brace herself. She goes flying, falling on top of him and knocking him to the floor. “Ow!” he yells.
“Ow?” She glares down at him. “You should try having your bony body stickin’ into you! It’s like lyin’ on hundreds of sharp rocks!”
“Oh, just get off me!”
She does, squashing him still further as she clambers to her feet. And then there’s an ominous crunch.
“What’s that?” he yelps, struggling to his own feet despite his bruises. And then he sees it.
“Donna!”
“What?”
“Did you have to stand on my sonic screwdriver?”