(no subject)
after all this, ten/rose, pg-13
a/n: Please excuse the way this is totally terrible.
She laughs before she can stop herself, chokes down an I told you so at the sight of him sputtering to the surface, hair flat and glasses askew. , 851 words
They’re looking out an open window in Venice at the Bridge of Sighs when the Doctor falls in.
She laughs before she can stop herself, chokes down an I told you so at the sight of him sputtering to the surface, hair flat and glasses askew.
He doesn’t scramble for a way out like she expects him to, surprises her instead when he says, calm as ever, that since his suit is very likely ruined, he might as well stay in for a bit; does a few backstrokes to emphasize his point, she supposes, like he’s at a public pool instead of a canal full of dirty water that just very likely ruined the only suit she’s ever seen him in.
She tells him under no circumstances will she be jumping in to save him when a gondola inevitably hits him in the head with a paddle and doesn’t mean it all, but if she has to rescue him from a watery death on the one day she wears white shorts she will not be enjoying it, and lets him know, a laugh falling out with the words that he greets with one of his own.
It reaches her ears around the same time his invitation to join him in the water (Only slightly filthy, which is much better than I thought it would be on the way down, Rose, he assures her) does and she shakes her head at the thought before he’s even finished it; leaping from a window into slightly filthy canal water just because he asks her to and she can resist him when she tries, when he’s far enough away that she can’t feel the heat of him or watch that eyebrow go up towards that hair of his or see that smile curl onto his face, slow and tempting and far too aware of what it does to her.
She leans over the window sill with a firm no on her tongue to find the water still and the Doctor missing, and if this is a joke it’s not funny at all, because her heart has stopped and she’s wondering about ridiculous things like the tidal pull of a canal and crazy Italian fish with poisonous fins that make Timelords forget how to swim, and if he doesn’t come back up right now she can’t think about what she’ll do.
Her shoes are off before she has to, hands gripping the ledge she’s balanced on and when he calls her name from the other side of the bridge she’s already in the air, lungs caught on the sound of his voice, bright and watery and alive and of course she knew it, of course she did, but it’s still the loveliest sound she’s heard all day.
She lands with a splash, water stinging every inch of bare skin, and it occurs to her that she should be mad at him over this.
That she should be yelling at him never to do something like that again because she thought he’d drowned and it made her make up outrageous sinister fish as the cause of it when really it would have been all his fault if she had to find his stupid new body and kiss his stupid new face before he’s said his stupid first words, and she loves this face, hasn’t even gotten to kiss it once, and if he’d regenerated without her getting the chance to she wouldn’t speak to him for a week or maybe a day or maybe she would just be so glad he was alright that she wouldn’t be able to stop.
And she tries to say this but can’t, is too relieved, adrenaline coursing with the fire he sets in her veins just by the hand he reaches out for her with as she swims toward him, catches it within hers and hugs him, good and tight and soggy, gasps warm air and the taste of salt against his throat before reaching around his neck like she’s done it a thousand times before, bringing his head close and his mouth closer as she mumbles that she would really, really like it if he could keep this face for a while longer, lips brushing against lips with every word, and if he’s surprised he hides it well, because the next thing she knows he has her legs around his waist and his tongue tracing her teeth and she feels a moan rumble through his chest when her hand drifts beneath his collar to clutch at the skin of his back.
A gondola glides by sometime later, as they’re pressed along the side of the bridge catching their breath on each others tongues, the man at the tip talking about this spot, of lovers getting forever after just one kiss, to the couple inside, and it makes her lean back, makes the Doctor lean forward, dragging the kiss meant for lips over her cheek instead, resting his chin on her shoulder and whispering her name into her ear with a sigh.
She smiles into his hair and sighs right back.
a/n: Please excuse the way this is totally terrible.
She laughs before she can stop herself, chokes down an I told you so at the sight of him sputtering to the surface, hair flat and glasses askew. , 851 words
They’re looking out an open window in Venice at the Bridge of Sighs when the Doctor falls in.
She laughs before she can stop herself, chokes down an I told you so at the sight of him sputtering to the surface, hair flat and glasses askew.
He doesn’t scramble for a way out like she expects him to, surprises her instead when he says, calm as ever, that since his suit is very likely ruined, he might as well stay in for a bit; does a few backstrokes to emphasize his point, she supposes, like he’s at a public pool instead of a canal full of dirty water that just very likely ruined the only suit she’s ever seen him in.
She tells him under no circumstances will she be jumping in to save him when a gondola inevitably hits him in the head with a paddle and doesn’t mean it all, but if she has to rescue him from a watery death on the one day she wears white shorts she will not be enjoying it, and lets him know, a laugh falling out with the words that he greets with one of his own.
It reaches her ears around the same time his invitation to join him in the water (Only slightly filthy, which is much better than I thought it would be on the way down, Rose, he assures her) does and she shakes her head at the thought before he’s even finished it; leaping from a window into slightly filthy canal water just because he asks her to and she can resist him when she tries, when he’s far enough away that she can’t feel the heat of him or watch that eyebrow go up towards that hair of his or see that smile curl onto his face, slow and tempting and far too aware of what it does to her.
She leans over the window sill with a firm no on her tongue to find the water still and the Doctor missing, and if this is a joke it’s not funny at all, because her heart has stopped and she’s wondering about ridiculous things like the tidal pull of a canal and crazy Italian fish with poisonous fins that make Timelords forget how to swim, and if he doesn’t come back up right now she can’t think about what she’ll do.
Her shoes are off before she has to, hands gripping the ledge she’s balanced on and when he calls her name from the other side of the bridge she’s already in the air, lungs caught on the sound of his voice, bright and watery and alive and of course she knew it, of course she did, but it’s still the loveliest sound she’s heard all day.
She lands with a splash, water stinging every inch of bare skin, and it occurs to her that she should be mad at him over this.
That she should be yelling at him never to do something like that again because she thought he’d drowned and it made her make up outrageous sinister fish as the cause of it when really it would have been all his fault if she had to find his stupid new body and kiss his stupid new face before he’s said his stupid first words, and she loves this face, hasn’t even gotten to kiss it once, and if he’d regenerated without her getting the chance to she wouldn’t speak to him for a week or maybe a day or maybe she would just be so glad he was alright that she wouldn’t be able to stop.
And she tries to say this but can’t, is too relieved, adrenaline coursing with the fire he sets in her veins just by the hand he reaches out for her with as she swims toward him, catches it within hers and hugs him, good and tight and soggy, gasps warm air and the taste of salt against his throat before reaching around his neck like she’s done it a thousand times before, bringing his head close and his mouth closer as she mumbles that she would really, really like it if he could keep this face for a while longer, lips brushing against lips with every word, and if he’s surprised he hides it well, because the next thing she knows he has her legs around his waist and his tongue tracing her teeth and she feels a moan rumble through his chest when her hand drifts beneath his collar to clutch at the skin of his back.
A gondola glides by sometime later, as they’re pressed along the side of the bridge catching their breath on each others tongues, the man at the tip talking about this spot, of lovers getting forever after just one kiss, to the couple inside, and it makes her lean back, makes the Doctor lean forward, dragging the kiss meant for lips over her cheek instead, resting his chin on her shoulder and whispering her name into her ear with a sigh.
She smiles into his hair and sighs right back.