Berries Ten2/Rose (pg-13)
A/N Sorry it's unbeta'd and bad. I procrastinated and wanted to make it past the deadline.
Strawberries, at least, are something he thinks he can manage. He buys crates of them on a whim, tying them haphazardly to the back of his blue bicycle since he couldn’t get a driver’s license. He seeks things he feels he can handle desperately in this new world. In this new world, with all these new sensations, he can’t handle much.
He lines the berries up in neat rows, smiling at the vivid colors. Seating himself delicately on the kitchen tile in the small square of area he left blank, he stares fixedly at the door, waiting for her to come home. She has told him, so many times he’s lost count, that he can come to work with her, that she’d like him to. He stays at home, watching the clock and riding his bike, because he doesn’t want her to know how nothing in this new life he’s been handed seems worthwhile unless she’s there. That’s why he brought home the strawberries. They were so red, and the boxes so blue, and the smell was so sharp, that he had to show them to her. He couldn’t wait until her day off, and bring her back. Today. She needed to see them and smell them and taste them and smile at him today.
He hears a click and drifts out of his reverie, but it’s just some kitchen noise, and he snaps his eyes to the clock above the stove, watching the second hand tease him seductively in its sluggish ticking. He taps his foot as he waits, but it nearly upsets one of the boxes, so he stops. He tugs his ear and watches the door. He looks at the clock again. Is she late? He can’t remember what time she gets home usually. Shifting himself carefully and grimacing as pins and needles shimmy up his leg, he ponders calling her. He does have a cell phone; she insisted he have one. He hears a click again and this time the knob turns and the door opens.
She hurries into the hall and he can picture her in his mind, accompanying the familiar sounds. The snap of her locking the door behind her. A jangle as she sets her keys on the table next to the door and a slight thump as she puts her purse down beside them. He hears her step out of her heels and then the soft noise of her footsteps as she comes approaches the kitchen. He wriggles in anticipation as he pictures her face.
Rose stands in the doorway and complete silence falls over the house. Her eyes widen as she takes in the strawberry-covered floor. Her eyes land on him in the middle of it and she breaks into a smile.
“Hi,” she says, tiptoeing between boxes.
“Hello,” he replies, looking up at her.
“I see you had a busy day.”
“Yes. What about you?”
“Oh, same old, same old,” Rose waves her hand dismissively, reaching the small island in the oasis of fruit. She crouches down in front of the Doctor, eyes twinkling. “But the day’s not over yet. Could get very busy.”
“I haven’t tried them yet, I was waiting for you,” he replies, as always completely oblivious.
“I’m sure they’re delicious,” Rose chuckles, plucking one from a box and popping it into her mouth, biting off the leaves. The Doctor watches her, mesmerized, and she smiles. She holds one out to him and he bites off half of it, grinning as he chews.
“Brilliant.”
Rose plants a fruity kiss on his juice-covered lips, pushing him onto his back. Several boxes are disrupted, strawberries spilling across the floor, and her skirt hitches up. The Doctor puts his hands on her legs as she straddles him and more fruit is upturned.
She shows him many uses for strawberries he never thought they could have.
-----
The table creaks as she rolls over, and her head lolls of the edge. The Doctor scoots across the smooth wood surface and rests his chin on her shoulder. He glances at the clock.
“Dinnertime,” he whispers.
“Did you buy anything besides strawberries?”
He pauses. “No.”
Rose exhales loudly, sliding off the table and standing up. She wrinkles her nose as pulverized berries pushes up between her toes.
“You’re cleaning this up.” She steps carefully between the boxes that have remained upright and pulls open the fridge.
The Doctor makes a face and sits up, watching her. “Why, you’re the one who had to do it in the kitchen.”
“Next time you decide to cover the floor with fruit don’t do it so adorably then,” Rose answers cheekily, shutting the fridge with her hip and setting a large container of vanilla ice cream on the counter. Standing on tiptoes, she pulls two bowls from a cabinet and spoons from a drawer.
“We’ll have to have ice cream and strawberries for dinner. There’s nothing else in the fridge.” She tries to look annoyed at his irresponsibility, but she knows he knows she loves it. She pushes the Doctor off the table and carefully maneuvers a chair out without knocking over any of the strawberries. Sitting down, she lifts up a box and sets it between them.
The Doctor opens the ice cream and serves them each a hefty bowl which they top with berries.
“Wait.” She holds up a hand before he digs in. Getting up, she hops over crates to a cupboard and pulls out a bottle of pinkish wine,
“No glasses?” he asks as she resumes her seat.
“Naw, we can chug.”
His face splits into a grin and it’s so infectious she can’t help but laugh. And then he’s laughing and they’re laughing and he accidentally puts his hand in the ice cream and she can’t breath and then he leans over the ridiculous meal and kisses her and she really can’t breath.
They sit, panting, across from each other, several minutes later. Silence falls over the house, punctuated with giggling, as they eat the berries ice cream.
Hours and many bowls of ice cream and strawberry tops later, Rose climbs onto the Doctor’s lap and rests her head on his shoulder, smiling. He puts his arms around her, leaning his chin on the top of her head.
“Good strawberries,” he says.
“Yeah. We’ll bring some to Tony tomorrow,” she replies, turning to bury her face in his shirt.
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Rose shrieks as the Doctor slings her over his shoulder and carries her down the hall into the bedroom. She beats his back, wheezing as she tries to stop laughing. He tosses her down on the bed and wipes his brow, panting.
“I think you had too much ice cream. You’re getting heavy.”
Rose scowls at him. “Do I look heavy to you?”
“Wha-aa-?” The Doctor’s mouth falls open as she takes off her skirt and unbuttons her blouse. He gulps, licking his lips. “No.”
“Okay then. Come to bed.” Rose lets a silky nightgown slide onto her shoulders and slips beneath the covers. The Doctor strips down and climbs in after her. Awkwardly the nestle about until she’s comfortably cocooned in his arms.
“‘Night, Rose.”
“‘Night, Doctor.”
She turns off the light. “Love you.”
“What?” he asks.
“Nothing.”
“What?”
“Never mind. I didn’t say anything.”
“I heard you. What did you say?”
“Nothing. It’s not important.”
“I love you too.”
Strawberries, at least, are something he thinks he can manage. He buys crates of them on a whim, tying them haphazardly to the back of his blue bicycle since he couldn’t get a driver’s license. He seeks things he feels he can handle desperately in this new world. In this new world, with all these new sensations, he can’t handle much.
He lines the berries up in neat rows, smiling at the vivid colors. Seating himself delicately on the kitchen tile in the small square of area he left blank, he stares fixedly at the door, waiting for her to come home. She has told him, so many times he’s lost count, that he can come to work with her, that she’d like him to. He stays at home, watching the clock and riding his bike, because he doesn’t want her to know how nothing in this new life he’s been handed seems worthwhile unless she’s there. That’s why he brought home the strawberries. They were so red, and the boxes so blue, and the smell was so sharp, that he had to show them to her. He couldn’t wait until her day off, and bring her back. Today. She needed to see them and smell them and taste them and smile at him today.
He hears a click and drifts out of his reverie, but it’s just some kitchen noise, and he snaps his eyes to the clock above the stove, watching the second hand tease him seductively in its sluggish ticking. He taps his foot as he waits, but it nearly upsets one of the boxes, so he stops. He tugs his ear and watches the door. He looks at the clock again. Is she late? He can’t remember what time she gets home usually. Shifting himself carefully and grimacing as pins and needles shimmy up his leg, he ponders calling her. He does have a cell phone; she insisted he have one. He hears a click again and this time the knob turns and the door opens.
She hurries into the hall and he can picture her in his mind, accompanying the familiar sounds. The snap of her locking the door behind her. A jangle as she sets her keys on the table next to the door and a slight thump as she puts her purse down beside them. He hears her step out of her heels and then the soft noise of her footsteps as she comes approaches the kitchen. He wriggles in anticipation as he pictures her face.
Rose stands in the doorway and complete silence falls over the house. Her eyes widen as she takes in the strawberry-covered floor. Her eyes land on him in the middle of it and she breaks into a smile.
“Hi,” she says, tiptoeing between boxes.
“Hello,” he replies, looking up at her.
“I see you had a busy day.”
“Yes. What about you?”
“Oh, same old, same old,” Rose waves her hand dismissively, reaching the small island in the oasis of fruit. She crouches down in front of the Doctor, eyes twinkling. “But the day’s not over yet. Could get very busy.”
“I haven’t tried them yet, I was waiting for you,” he replies, as always completely oblivious.
“I’m sure they’re delicious,” Rose chuckles, plucking one from a box and popping it into her mouth, biting off the leaves. The Doctor watches her, mesmerized, and she smiles. She holds one out to him and he bites off half of it, grinning as he chews.
“Brilliant.”
Rose plants a fruity kiss on his juice-covered lips, pushing him onto his back. Several boxes are disrupted, strawberries spilling across the floor, and her skirt hitches up. The Doctor puts his hands on her legs as she straddles him and more fruit is upturned.
She shows him many uses for strawberries he never thought they could have.
-----
The table creaks as she rolls over, and her head lolls of the edge. The Doctor scoots across the smooth wood surface and rests his chin on her shoulder. He glances at the clock.
“Dinnertime,” he whispers.
“Did you buy anything besides strawberries?”
He pauses. “No.”
Rose exhales loudly, sliding off the table and standing up. She wrinkles her nose as pulverized berries pushes up between her toes.
“You’re cleaning this up.” She steps carefully between the boxes that have remained upright and pulls open the fridge.
The Doctor makes a face and sits up, watching her. “Why, you’re the one who had to do it in the kitchen.”
“Next time you decide to cover the floor with fruit don’t do it so adorably then,” Rose answers cheekily, shutting the fridge with her hip and setting a large container of vanilla ice cream on the counter. Standing on tiptoes, she pulls two bowls from a cabinet and spoons from a drawer.
“We’ll have to have ice cream and strawberries for dinner. There’s nothing else in the fridge.” She tries to look annoyed at his irresponsibility, but she knows he knows she loves it. She pushes the Doctor off the table and carefully maneuvers a chair out without knocking over any of the strawberries. Sitting down, she lifts up a box and sets it between them.
The Doctor opens the ice cream and serves them each a hefty bowl which they top with berries.
“Wait.” She holds up a hand before he digs in. Getting up, she hops over crates to a cupboard and pulls out a bottle of pinkish wine,
“No glasses?” he asks as she resumes her seat.
“Naw, we can chug.”
His face splits into a grin and it’s so infectious she can’t help but laugh. And then he’s laughing and they’re laughing and he accidentally puts his hand in the ice cream and she can’t breath and then he leans over the ridiculous meal and kisses her and she really can’t breath.
They sit, panting, across from each other, several minutes later. Silence falls over the house, punctuated with giggling, as they eat the berries ice cream.
Hours and many bowls of ice cream and strawberry tops later, Rose climbs onto the Doctor’s lap and rests her head on his shoulder, smiling. He puts his arms around her, leaning his chin on the top of her head.
“Good strawberries,” he says.
“Yeah. We’ll bring some to Tony tomorrow,” she replies, turning to bury her face in his shirt.
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Rose shrieks as the Doctor slings her over his shoulder and carries her down the hall into the bedroom. She beats his back, wheezing as she tries to stop laughing. He tosses her down on the bed and wipes his brow, panting.
“I think you had too much ice cream. You’re getting heavy.”
Rose scowls at him. “Do I look heavy to you?”
“Wha-aa-?” The Doctor’s mouth falls open as she takes off her skirt and unbuttons her blouse. He gulps, licking his lips. “No.”
“Okay then. Come to bed.” Rose lets a silky nightgown slide onto her shoulders and slips beneath the covers. The Doctor strips down and climbs in after her. Awkwardly the nestle about until she’s comfortably cocooned in his arms.
“‘Night, Rose.”
“‘Night, Doctor.”
She turns off the light. “Love you.”
“What?” he asks.
“Nothing.”
“What?”
“Never mind. I didn’t say anything.”
“I heard you. What did you say?”
“Nothing. It’s not important.”
“I love you too.”