thank your lucky stars
Sometimes, you wake up in the morning, get to work, get some things accomplished, and then start randomly writing a drabble that comes out of nowhere. This is one of those days. :)
Thank Your Lucky Stars
By: anniesj
Doctor Who 2005. Doctor/Rose subtext. PG-13. No real spoilers past "Rose", could take place anywhere before Captain Jack joins up with the gang. Unbeta-ed, so any mistakes are mine and mine alone.
For circe_tigana, for making me watch this show and for making me love it, as she always does when it comes to fandom. Also, for my dad, who will never read this (I hope *g*) but laughed gleefully when I told him that I was watching Doctor Who, as it was his favorite show growing up.
She manages to bring Wilson the lottery money for the week. The plastic dummies watch lifelessly as she hands over the envelope. He asks her out, like he always does. She gives him lip, like she always does. They each go home alone. She kisses her mum on the cheek and her mum tells her she's wearing too much eyeliner again. She calls Mickey. He tells her he loves her; she shimmies her way out of reciprocating. Again. She goes to sleep. She dreams about corsets and Christmas and warm, warm fingers wrapped tightly around her own.
The alarm clock rings. She wakes up lonely.
She goes to work. Shireen takes her to lunch and gives over the tape of yesterday's EastEnders. Rose sells three dark cashmere jumpers to a tall man in a leather jacket. His smile is contagious; she is instantly infected. He asks her to lunch. She thinks about it, but then Mickey rings her on her cell phone and she lets the tall man go. Something inside her regrets it.
The lottery numbers come up. They win. Rose's mum can't believe it; keeps jumping up and down and screaming that she knew her daughter was lucky, she knew it, even if she's still wearing too much bloody eyeliner, but what does that matter now? They're rich. Filthy, stinking rich. Millions and millions of pounds to her name, and Rose has no idea what to do with it. She takes her mum shopping and buys her a fur coat. Three weeks later, it's splattered with red paint. Rose buys her another one and takes a secret bet with Mickey and Shireen as to how long this one'll last.
She buys Mickey a Porsche. He buys her an engagement ring. She hesitates before she says yes, but she says it, and so they get married. She wears white to her wedding. Mickey snickers. Her mum catches the bouquet and Rose immediately feels terribly sorry for the poor, imaginary bloke her mum'll rope into committment. At the reception, Shireen thinks she's funny and makes the DJ play Britney Spears's "Toxic", just 'cos Mickey hates her. For half a second, Rose thinks the world is going to end. Years later, she'll wonder if it hadn't.
Rose and Mickey take a honeymoon in Greece. They make love four times their first night, and she fakes one of her orgasms. Mickey can't tell the difference. The next day, she sunbathes by the waves in the nude and falls asleep. She dreams that the waves have all frozen over, glacial ripples of timeless beauty, and dreams of kissing a man who smells like leather and wormholes and intoxication.
She wakes up with a sunburn.
They move to the country. Rose gives birth to their first child when she's only twenty-four. She names him after her da. Her mother says it's an unlucky name, but Rose doesn't believe in luck so much anymore. Maybe she should. After all, isn't she lucky? She's got a cottage of her own, a baby, a husband, endless financial resources, a lifetime of stability. Normalcy. Dependability. Simplicity.
For Mickey's thirtieth birthday, she buys him a leather coat. He calls it "too swanky" and never wears it. Another little fracture line ripples through Rose's heart; the baby within her stirs fretfully.
And so that's what life is like, and it's a fairy tale, a dream come true, everything she was raised to want. And she's happy, she really is, she swears. Her children are bright and adore her. Her husband worships the ground she walks on. And even her mum, her disapproving mum (who still, by the way, tells Rose she's wearing too much fucking eyeliner, especially for her age), sits her down on the porch one night and tells her, "You're so lucky, darling. You've got everything I ever wanted for you."
Rose smiles and says nothing. She just looks up at the stars, like she often does on clear nights like this one, and wonders. Wonders what would've happened if she'd never gotten the lottery numbers right. If she'd never said "I do" to Mickey. If she'd stayed in the city. But strangely, most of all, she wonders what would've happened if she'd gone to lunch with the tall man in the leather coat all those years ago. She wonders if he would've taught her to smile and mean it. She wonders if she's really as lucky as everyone seems to think she is. She wonders--
"Oi, come on now! Wake up!"
Rose opens her eyes. The TARDIS thrums around her, all gentle green/gold light filling the sleepy corners of her vision. The Doctor is leaning in the doorway, shooting her a mock-exasperated look, arms crossed over his chest, leather crackling as he heaves a melodramatic sigh. "Y'know, you really are the laziest companion I've ever travelled with," he complains.
She yawns and burrows herself a little deeper in the worn comforter (really, if the Doctor's been all over the bloody galaxy, you'd think the bastard could spring for Egyptian cotton). "You're just sayin' that because you don't have to sleep."
The Doctor smiles broadly. "Well, I can't help it if I'm a superior being, now, can I?"
"Superior being, my arse," Rose grumbles, extrapolating herself from the bedsheets and grimacing when her bare feet touch the cool metal of the TARDIS floor. "If you were as high-and-mighty as you think you are, you'd at least have the coffee on when I wake up."
"Already do," the Doctor replies cheerfully. She stretches for a moment and takes a secret, sly pleasure in the way his eyes cling to the sliver of midriff exposed by her pajama top. "So, did you at least sleep well, little Rose Tyler?"
"You're so lucky, darling. You've got everything I ever wanted for you."
She frowns for a moment, then shakes her head. "Not really. Had all sorts of terrible nightmares."
The Doctor snaps his fingers. "See? Superior beings like myself never have nightmares. Too clever for them."
Rose rolls her eyes, but she can't help but smirk a little anyway, because he really is clever and charming and she can smell the coffee he made for her and she likes the way the TARDIS's glow caresses the sharp curve of his cheek. Because everything loves him, even a machine, and so how is Rose Tyler supposed to resist him? She can't. She doesn't want to. Not for a million pounds or country houses or wedding rings.
The Doctor's eyes are glittering like a thousand stars shimmering over a dark English sky. "So, Rose Tyler, are you ready for your next adventure?"
He extends his hand to her, the smile on his face so radiant that it overpowers the universe, and Rose smiles back and means it. "Why not?" she laughs. "I'm feelin' lucky today."
She takes his hand without hesitation and regrets nothing.
Wow, I think that's the first fic I've posted in MONTHS. Feels good. :)
Thank Your Lucky Stars
By: anniesj
Doctor Who 2005. Doctor/Rose subtext. PG-13. No real spoilers past "Rose", could take place anywhere before Captain Jack joins up with the gang. Unbeta-ed, so any mistakes are mine and mine alone.
For circe_tigana, for making me watch this show and for making me love it, as she always does when it comes to fandom. Also, for my dad, who will never read this (I hope *g*) but laughed gleefully when I told him that I was watching Doctor Who, as it was his favorite show growing up.
She manages to bring Wilson the lottery money for the week. The plastic dummies watch lifelessly as she hands over the envelope. He asks her out, like he always does. She gives him lip, like she always does. They each go home alone. She kisses her mum on the cheek and her mum tells her she's wearing too much eyeliner again. She calls Mickey. He tells her he loves her; she shimmies her way out of reciprocating. Again. She goes to sleep. She dreams about corsets and Christmas and warm, warm fingers wrapped tightly around her own.
The alarm clock rings. She wakes up lonely.
She goes to work. Shireen takes her to lunch and gives over the tape of yesterday's EastEnders. Rose sells three dark cashmere jumpers to a tall man in a leather jacket. His smile is contagious; she is instantly infected. He asks her to lunch. She thinks about it, but then Mickey rings her on her cell phone and she lets the tall man go. Something inside her regrets it.
The lottery numbers come up. They win. Rose's mum can't believe it; keeps jumping up and down and screaming that she knew her daughter was lucky, she knew it, even if she's still wearing too much bloody eyeliner, but what does that matter now? They're rich. Filthy, stinking rich. Millions and millions of pounds to her name, and Rose has no idea what to do with it. She takes her mum shopping and buys her a fur coat. Three weeks later, it's splattered with red paint. Rose buys her another one and takes a secret bet with Mickey and Shireen as to how long this one'll last.
She buys Mickey a Porsche. He buys her an engagement ring. She hesitates before she says yes, but she says it, and so they get married. She wears white to her wedding. Mickey snickers. Her mum catches the bouquet and Rose immediately feels terribly sorry for the poor, imaginary bloke her mum'll rope into committment. At the reception, Shireen thinks she's funny and makes the DJ play Britney Spears's "Toxic", just 'cos Mickey hates her. For half a second, Rose thinks the world is going to end. Years later, she'll wonder if it hadn't.
Rose and Mickey take a honeymoon in Greece. They make love four times their first night, and she fakes one of her orgasms. Mickey can't tell the difference. The next day, she sunbathes by the waves in the nude and falls asleep. She dreams that the waves have all frozen over, glacial ripples of timeless beauty, and dreams of kissing a man who smells like leather and wormholes and intoxication.
She wakes up with a sunburn.
They move to the country. Rose gives birth to their first child when she's only twenty-four. She names him after her da. Her mother says it's an unlucky name, but Rose doesn't believe in luck so much anymore. Maybe she should. After all, isn't she lucky? She's got a cottage of her own, a baby, a husband, endless financial resources, a lifetime of stability. Normalcy. Dependability. Simplicity.
For Mickey's thirtieth birthday, she buys him a leather coat. He calls it "too swanky" and never wears it. Another little fracture line ripples through Rose's heart; the baby within her stirs fretfully.
And so that's what life is like, and it's a fairy tale, a dream come true, everything she was raised to want. And she's happy, she really is, she swears. Her children are bright and adore her. Her husband worships the ground she walks on. And even her mum, her disapproving mum (who still, by the way, tells Rose she's wearing too much fucking eyeliner, especially for her age), sits her down on the porch one night and tells her, "You're so lucky, darling. You've got everything I ever wanted for you."
Rose smiles and says nothing. She just looks up at the stars, like she often does on clear nights like this one, and wonders. Wonders what would've happened if she'd never gotten the lottery numbers right. If she'd never said "I do" to Mickey. If she'd stayed in the city. But strangely, most of all, she wonders what would've happened if she'd gone to lunch with the tall man in the leather coat all those years ago. She wonders if he would've taught her to smile and mean it. She wonders if she's really as lucky as everyone seems to think she is. She wonders--
"Oi, come on now! Wake up!"
Rose opens her eyes. The TARDIS thrums around her, all gentle green/gold light filling the sleepy corners of her vision. The Doctor is leaning in the doorway, shooting her a mock-exasperated look, arms crossed over his chest, leather crackling as he heaves a melodramatic sigh. "Y'know, you really are the laziest companion I've ever travelled with," he complains.
She yawns and burrows herself a little deeper in the worn comforter (really, if the Doctor's been all over the bloody galaxy, you'd think the bastard could spring for Egyptian cotton). "You're just sayin' that because you don't have to sleep."
The Doctor smiles broadly. "Well, I can't help it if I'm a superior being, now, can I?"
"Superior being, my arse," Rose grumbles, extrapolating herself from the bedsheets and grimacing when her bare feet touch the cool metal of the TARDIS floor. "If you were as high-and-mighty as you think you are, you'd at least have the coffee on when I wake up."
"Already do," the Doctor replies cheerfully. She stretches for a moment and takes a secret, sly pleasure in the way his eyes cling to the sliver of midriff exposed by her pajama top. "So, did you at least sleep well, little Rose Tyler?"
"You're so lucky, darling. You've got everything I ever wanted for you."
She frowns for a moment, then shakes her head. "Not really. Had all sorts of terrible nightmares."
The Doctor snaps his fingers. "See? Superior beings like myself never have nightmares. Too clever for them."
Rose rolls her eyes, but she can't help but smirk a little anyway, because he really is clever and charming and she can smell the coffee he made for her and she likes the way the TARDIS's glow caresses the sharp curve of his cheek. Because everything loves him, even a machine, and so how is Rose Tyler supposed to resist him? She can't. She doesn't want to. Not for a million pounds or country houses or wedding rings.
The Doctor's eyes are glittering like a thousand stars shimmering over a dark English sky. "So, Rose Tyler, are you ready for your next adventure?"
He extends his hand to her, the smile on his face so radiant that it overpowers the universe, and Rose smiles back and means it. "Why not?" she laughs. "I'm feelin' lucky today."
She takes his hand without hesitation and regrets nothing.
Wow, I think that's the first fic I've posted in MONTHS. Feels good. :)