Fic: "Pockets" 1/1 (Ten/Rose | Teen)
Title: Pockets
Author: aibhinn
Pairing: Ten/Rose
Rating: Teen
Summary: "Why is it that every time we're arrested and thrown in jail, they always know enough to take your sonic screwdriver, and yet they never think to check your pockets?"
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not making any money. Please not to sue me.
Author's note: Written for Round 1.02 of writerinatardis. Prompts: some mention of the following must be included-a black box, a toy aeroplane, and a vegetable used as a weapon. I had a lot of fun with this one!
Another day, another jail cell, Rose thought with wry resignation as she watched the Doctor empty his pockets in search of something to help them escape. It was extraordinary, what he kept in that coat. No wonder it weighed a ton.
"Why is it," she said, as the pile of small objects on the stone bench in their cell grew steadily larger, "that every time we're arrested and thrown in jail, they always know enough to take your sonic screwdriver, and yet they never think to check your pockets?"
"It's a mystery," the Doctor said. He pulled a ticket stub, a toy catapult, several shrivelled carrot sticks and a wind-up mouse out of his right-hand pocket and added them to the pile. "I wish they would some time; it'd keep them busy for a while, if nothing else."
"For a week, at least," Rose agreed, and leant forward to see better. "Is that a catapult? I thought you didn't carry weapons."
"This is hardly a weapon, Rose," the Doctor said absently. "Unless I stood three feet away from the chief and used it to fling one of these pieces of carrot at his face." From his other pocket he withdrew a toy aeroplane with an elastic-powered propeller, a mechanical pencil, and what looked like a controller for an RC car. "Blimey, I'd forgotten I had these. You know what I should put in here? A guide to the different eras of planets, so I'd know when we'd landed in a time and place where holding hands in public is considered obscenity. Of course, I'd have to write it first."
"Leaning over right in front of a policeman and telling me you wanted to make love to me under that big red-leafed tree probably wasn't your cleverest move, either," Rose said dryly.
The Doctor flashed a grin at her. "Are you objecting to the idea of making love to me beneath a tree?"
"No," Rose returned. "Just saying that your timing was a bit off, Time Lord." She settled onto the bench beside the pile. "I can see the ticket stub and carrot sticks being tucked into your pockets," she said thoughtfully. "Even the pencil and the catapult. But that radio-control thing is huge! How did you even get it in there?"
"Dimensionally transcendental," the Doctor reminded her. "Bigger on the inside."
"I know what 'dimensionally transcendental' means." She watched, fascinated, as he continued to pull objects out: a television remote control, a black box the size of his hand with multicoloured lights on top and what looked like instructions printed in some alien language, four paper clips, a pink rubber and a packet of digestive biscuits. "Oh, brilliant!" she said, snatching the latter and tearing it open. "I'm starving."
"Oi!" the Doctor protested. "So am I!"
Rose tucked the packet close to her body protectively. "Get us out of here and back to the TARDIS, then," she said. "Lots of food there."
"Oh, now, that's rude, Rose Tyler. I thought I was the rude one."
She grinned mischievously and bit into a biscuit. "I learned from the best," she said with her mouth full.
"Mm. So it would seem." Abandoning his search for the moment, he rested his hands on the wall above her head and leant forward until his face was only inches from hers. "But I hope you've learned more from me than rudeness and the definition of 'dimensionally transcendental'."
She quirked an eyebrow and swallowed. "Maybe," she said coyly. "Maybe I've learned a lot more."
"Oh?" He shifted and lowered his voice a step or two. "Like what?"
Rose reached up to touch his lips. She let her fingertip trail down his throat and over his chest before slipping sideways to reach into an inner pocket of his overcoat. "Like where you keep your lock picks," she said as she drew them out of his coat and shook them so they jangled together musically.
He blinked, and then a grin spread over his face. "Rose Tyler, you're astonishing." He kissed her swiftly, taking hold of the picks. "Keep the digestives," he said, and crammed the rest of the pile of stuff hurriedly back into his pockets. "You've earned them. Besides, you'll need your strength for all the running we're about to do. Once I've got my sonic screwdriver back, of course."
Rose laughed, ate one last biscuit, and tucked the remainder of the packet into her coat pocket before pushing herself to her feet. "One of these days, we'll explore a planet without getting into trouble," she said.
"Oh, now, what's the fun of that?" He knelt before the cell door and inserted one of the picks into the lock, then the other, twisting the second one carefully. The tumblers clicked, and the door squeaked open an inch or two. He slid the picks back where she'd found them and stood, taking her hand. "Ready?"
"Always," she grinned.
"Then, not to seem repetitive--Run!"
Author: aibhinn
Pairing: Ten/Rose
Rating: Teen
Summary: "Why is it that every time we're arrested and thrown in jail, they always know enough to take your sonic screwdriver, and yet they never think to check your pockets?"
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not making any money. Please not to sue me.
Author's note: Written for Round 1.02 of writerinatardis. Prompts: some mention of the following must be included-a black box, a toy aeroplane, and a vegetable used as a weapon. I had a lot of fun with this one!
Another day, another jail cell, Rose thought with wry resignation as she watched the Doctor empty his pockets in search of something to help them escape. It was extraordinary, what he kept in that coat. No wonder it weighed a ton.
"Why is it," she said, as the pile of small objects on the stone bench in their cell grew steadily larger, "that every time we're arrested and thrown in jail, they always know enough to take your sonic screwdriver, and yet they never think to check your pockets?"
"It's a mystery," the Doctor said. He pulled a ticket stub, a toy catapult, several shrivelled carrot sticks and a wind-up mouse out of his right-hand pocket and added them to the pile. "I wish they would some time; it'd keep them busy for a while, if nothing else."
"For a week, at least," Rose agreed, and leant forward to see better. "Is that a catapult? I thought you didn't carry weapons."
"This is hardly a weapon, Rose," the Doctor said absently. "Unless I stood three feet away from the chief and used it to fling one of these pieces of carrot at his face." From his other pocket he withdrew a toy aeroplane with an elastic-powered propeller, a mechanical pencil, and what looked like a controller for an RC car. "Blimey, I'd forgotten I had these. You know what I should put in here? A guide to the different eras of planets, so I'd know when we'd landed in a time and place where holding hands in public is considered obscenity. Of course, I'd have to write it first."
"Leaning over right in front of a policeman and telling me you wanted to make love to me under that big red-leafed tree probably wasn't your cleverest move, either," Rose said dryly.
The Doctor flashed a grin at her. "Are you objecting to the idea of making love to me beneath a tree?"
"No," Rose returned. "Just saying that your timing was a bit off, Time Lord." She settled onto the bench beside the pile. "I can see the ticket stub and carrot sticks being tucked into your pockets," she said thoughtfully. "Even the pencil and the catapult. But that radio-control thing is huge! How did you even get it in there?"
"Dimensionally transcendental," the Doctor reminded her. "Bigger on the inside."
"I know what 'dimensionally transcendental' means." She watched, fascinated, as he continued to pull objects out: a television remote control, a black box the size of his hand with multicoloured lights on top and what looked like instructions printed in some alien language, four paper clips, a pink rubber and a packet of digestive biscuits. "Oh, brilliant!" she said, snatching the latter and tearing it open. "I'm starving."
"Oi!" the Doctor protested. "So am I!"
Rose tucked the packet close to her body protectively. "Get us out of here and back to the TARDIS, then," she said. "Lots of food there."
"Oh, now, that's rude, Rose Tyler. I thought I was the rude one."
She grinned mischievously and bit into a biscuit. "I learned from the best," she said with her mouth full.
"Mm. So it would seem." Abandoning his search for the moment, he rested his hands on the wall above her head and leant forward until his face was only inches from hers. "But I hope you've learned more from me than rudeness and the definition of 'dimensionally transcendental'."
She quirked an eyebrow and swallowed. "Maybe," she said coyly. "Maybe I've learned a lot more."
"Oh?" He shifted and lowered his voice a step or two. "Like what?"
Rose reached up to touch his lips. She let her fingertip trail down his throat and over his chest before slipping sideways to reach into an inner pocket of his overcoat. "Like where you keep your lock picks," she said as she drew them out of his coat and shook them so they jangled together musically.
He blinked, and then a grin spread over his face. "Rose Tyler, you're astonishing." He kissed her swiftly, taking hold of the picks. "Keep the digestives," he said, and crammed the rest of the pile of stuff hurriedly back into his pockets. "You've earned them. Besides, you'll need your strength for all the running we're about to do. Once I've got my sonic screwdriver back, of course."
Rose laughed, ate one last biscuit, and tucked the remainder of the packet into her coat pocket before pushing herself to her feet. "One of these days, we'll explore a planet without getting into trouble," she said.
"Oh, now, what's the fun of that?" He knelt before the cell door and inserted one of the picks into the lock, then the other, twisting the second one carefully. The tumblers clicked, and the door squeaked open an inch or two. He slid the picks back where she'd found them and stood, taking her hand. "Ready?"
"Always," she grinned.
"Then, not to seem repetitive--Run!"