Fic: Twenty-first Century Slang
Title: Twenty-first Century Slang
Rating: T
Word count: 558
Characters: Rose, Jack, Ninth Doctor, hints of Rose/Jack
Timeline/spoilers: Set just post-Empty Child/Doctor Dances
Summary: Rose and Jack discuss language; or, flirting across the centuries.
Challenge: miscommunication
Rose whistled. “Now that,” she said, looking Jack up and down deliberately, “is hot.” Not that Jack needed the ego stroke, but the outfit he’d come up with was particularly good. The jeans were clinging to all the right places, and the t-shirt was just tight enough to show off Jack’s muscles without being too tight.
It was a lot better than the three outfits he’d come out with before this one: first a form-fitting jumpsuit that he’d claimed was the height of fashion in the twenty-second century; then an ensemble that had walked straight out of the eighties, and had - or so she’d told him - practically made her eyes bleed; and finally a pair of leather trousers that had been almost painted on, and a similar tight t-shirt - delicious, but impossible to run in, and she’d told him so.
Jack had only been with them for a few hours. He had yet to learn that there was an awful lot of running involved on almost every single day, every single planet, whether they intended it or not.
“Hot? This’ll be cold on some planets,” Jack said, frowning as he inspected himself. “But I found a jacket in there, there’s a scarf too - I don’t want to overheat. Does he keep the ship’s temperature low?”
Rose had to laugh, lifting a hand to her mouth. “That’s not what I meant,” she told him. “Sorry. It’s…slang, I guess. Hot is…good. Um.” She could feel her cheeks reddening and hoped she wasn’t blushing too much. “Handsome. Good-looking.”
A slow smirk crept across Jack’s face. “Hot, huh? Interesting.” He turned in a slow circle to let Rose see him from all angles. “Twenty-first century slang,” he said, facing Rose again. “Really ought to read up on that.”
“Thought you said you were a time agent,” said Rose, and she stuck her tongue out at him. “Aren’t you meant to know that stuff? Blend in?”
“Yeah, ‘cos you were doing a great job of that,” he said, teasing, and she rolled her eyes. “I haven’t been to your time period in a while,” he explained then. “I usually do my research before going anywhere.”
Rose shrugged. “Yeah, we’re more the ‘let’s see what’s out the door today’ type,” she said. “I don’t think he really knows how to steer her properly.” She patted a nearby coral support, just to make sure the TARDIS wasn’t offended. “But yeah, hot is…good. And the outfit is good.”
“And good is just good, right?” Jack checked, sauntering closer. “There isn’t some complicated twenty-first century meaning where good really means bad?”
“N-no,” Rose stuttered, watching as he stopped just a little too close, just a little inside her personal space. “No. Um. Wicked sometimes means great. Fantastic.”
“You’ll have to teach me all about it,” Jack said, and he was staring at her mouth. Rose could feel herself blushing again. “So I look hot, which is good, and good just means good.”
“Uh huh,” she said, almost breathless. “That’s right.” He was getting closer, leaning in just a little bit, and she was almost sure he was going to kiss her.
“Oi! You two! Are you done yet?” the Doctor demanded from the doorway. Rose turned away from Jack, took a step or two away from him, and smiled at the Doctor.
“Yep,” she said. “All done.”
Rating: T
Word count: 558
Characters: Rose, Jack, Ninth Doctor, hints of Rose/Jack
Timeline/spoilers: Set just post-Empty Child/Doctor Dances
Summary: Rose and Jack discuss language; or, flirting across the centuries.
Challenge: miscommunication
Rose whistled. “Now that,” she said, looking Jack up and down deliberately, “is hot.” Not that Jack needed the ego stroke, but the outfit he’d come up with was particularly good. The jeans were clinging to all the right places, and the t-shirt was just tight enough to show off Jack’s muscles without being too tight.
It was a lot better than the three outfits he’d come out with before this one: first a form-fitting jumpsuit that he’d claimed was the height of fashion in the twenty-second century; then an ensemble that had walked straight out of the eighties, and had - or so she’d told him - practically made her eyes bleed; and finally a pair of leather trousers that had been almost painted on, and a similar tight t-shirt - delicious, but impossible to run in, and she’d told him so.
Jack had only been with them for a few hours. He had yet to learn that there was an awful lot of running involved on almost every single day, every single planet, whether they intended it or not.
“Hot? This’ll be cold on some planets,” Jack said, frowning as he inspected himself. “But I found a jacket in there, there’s a scarf too - I don’t want to overheat. Does he keep the ship’s temperature low?”
Rose had to laugh, lifting a hand to her mouth. “That’s not what I meant,” she told him. “Sorry. It’s…slang, I guess. Hot is…good. Um.” She could feel her cheeks reddening and hoped she wasn’t blushing too much. “Handsome. Good-looking.”
A slow smirk crept across Jack’s face. “Hot, huh? Interesting.” He turned in a slow circle to let Rose see him from all angles. “Twenty-first century slang,” he said, facing Rose again. “Really ought to read up on that.”
“Thought you said you were a time agent,” said Rose, and she stuck her tongue out at him. “Aren’t you meant to know that stuff? Blend in?”
“Yeah, ‘cos you were doing a great job of that,” he said, teasing, and she rolled her eyes. “I haven’t been to your time period in a while,” he explained then. “I usually do my research before going anywhere.”
Rose shrugged. “Yeah, we’re more the ‘let’s see what’s out the door today’ type,” she said. “I don’t think he really knows how to steer her properly.” She patted a nearby coral support, just to make sure the TARDIS wasn’t offended. “But yeah, hot is…good. And the outfit is good.”
“And good is just good, right?” Jack checked, sauntering closer. “There isn’t some complicated twenty-first century meaning where good really means bad?”
“N-no,” Rose stuttered, watching as he stopped just a little too close, just a little inside her personal space. “No. Um. Wicked sometimes means great. Fantastic.”
“You’ll have to teach me all about it,” Jack said, and he was staring at her mouth. Rose could feel herself blushing again. “So I look hot, which is good, and good just means good.”
“Uh huh,” she said, almost breathless. “That’s right.” He was getting closer, leaning in just a little bit, and she was almost sure he was going to kiss her.
“Oi! You two! Are you done yet?” the Doctor demanded from the doorway. Rose turned away from Jack, took a step or two away from him, and smiled at the Doctor.
“Yep,” she said. “All done.”