Another Take On A Popular Theme {10/Rose, G}
Rating: G
Length: 447
Era: Non-specific, S2
Rose is a glamorous alien-fighting machine for a change; the Doctor is somewhat less than useless. A rather silly one-shot.
A/N: Okay, you guys. This was written in a fit of creative urgency as an unofficial response to Challenge 48 (5 Senses) over at the wonderful Then There's Us.
And ignore the road signs in the picture (what road signs?) - for the purpose of this fic, they're a hallucination.
Rose is thrilled.
She feels like she's smarmed into, say, 'The Thirty-Nine Steps' or something similar. Robert Donat's going to leap out of those bushes at any moment - though she supposes she's already got her own Hannay and two would just be excessive. And she's loving her long slinky gown, the muffler (she's getting flash-backs to the pink fluffy one she had at nine), the dinky furry hat slipped back on her head - she urgently needs to get some long, drippy-dangly sparkly earrings from somewhere to complete the look - but she's got major coat envy. The Doctor's snuggled like the proverbial bug into the cushiest great coat you ever saw, all high collar and big buttons, and - that isn't a cravat, surely.
She puts her tongue behind her two top teeth and surprises him with a gigantic booby-trap grin.
He's ensnared; the expression he creates in response is courtesy of every muscle in his face (his hair too).
*
It's an alien attack to be sure, it always is; but this-this is the crucial difference, Rose thinks as they run down different oak-panelled corridors, this time they're doing this in style.
And she's digging it. She feels cool, classy and downright dangerous - and she knows that kind of thinking's just going to get her killed, so she quashes it.
She's not taking off her black gloves though. Those are strictly necessary.
*
She's ahead; the marauder's just there and she's got that shrinky-globe thing clenched tight in her right hand and she's bearing down and it's trying to high-tail the hell out of there and she catches herself drawling I don't think so, Buster and tells herself that's probably a little OTT and then she's throwing the sphere up-up-up and down-down-down and the thing caught inside's making a noise like a stuck pig and it's all over, all over -
- and there's this odd sort of staggered clip-clopping noise coming down the hall. Rose turns to see the Doctor burst into the room. He looks embarrassed, so she laughs at him.
He looks mulishly down at his feet, at his shiny shiny boots with the not-dismissably-sized heel. He moves his eyes to look at her feet, covered by her dress; she obligingly raises it a few inches. The Doctor's somehow not very much surprised to see sensible shoes. No more era-appropriate dressing he fumes to himself...and then realises how tired, crotchety and downrightdamnbloodyold he sounds...
...and they both burst into furious giggles.
*
He hands her her coat. She steals the one hanging on his other arm.
'Finally,' she says, shrugging her way into dense wool, doing up the gorgeously shiny buttons, taking his hand.
Length: 447
Era: Non-specific, S2
Rose is a glamorous alien-fighting machine for a change; the Doctor is somewhat less than useless. A rather silly one-shot.
A/N: Okay, you guys. This was written in a fit of creative urgency as an unofficial response to Challenge 48 (5 Senses) over at the wonderful Then There's Us.
And ignore the road signs in the picture (what road signs?) - for the purpose of this fic, they're a hallucination.
Rose is thrilled.
She feels like she's smarmed into, say, 'The Thirty-Nine Steps' or something similar. Robert Donat's going to leap out of those bushes at any moment - though she supposes she's already got her own Hannay and two would just be excessive. And she's loving her long slinky gown, the muffler (she's getting flash-backs to the pink fluffy one she had at nine), the dinky furry hat slipped back on her head - she urgently needs to get some long, drippy-dangly sparkly earrings from somewhere to complete the look - but she's got major coat envy. The Doctor's snuggled like the proverbial bug into the cushiest great coat you ever saw, all high collar and big buttons, and - that isn't a cravat, surely.
She puts her tongue behind her two top teeth and surprises him with a gigantic booby-trap grin.
He's ensnared; the expression he creates in response is courtesy of every muscle in his face (his hair too).
*
It's an alien attack to be sure, it always is; but this-this is the crucial difference, Rose thinks as they run down different oak-panelled corridors, this time they're doing this in style.
And she's digging it. She feels cool, classy and downright dangerous - and she knows that kind of thinking's just going to get her killed, so she quashes it.
She's not taking off her black gloves though. Those are strictly necessary.
*
She's ahead; the marauder's just there and she's got that shrinky-globe thing clenched tight in her right hand and she's bearing down and it's trying to high-tail the hell out of there and she catches herself drawling I don't think so, Buster and tells herself that's probably a little OTT and then she's throwing the sphere up-up-up and down-down-down and the thing caught inside's making a noise like a stuck pig and it's all over, all over -
- and there's this odd sort of staggered clip-clopping noise coming down the hall. Rose turns to see the Doctor burst into the room. He looks embarrassed, so she laughs at him.
He looks mulishly down at his feet, at his shiny shiny boots with the not-dismissably-sized heel. He moves his eyes to look at her feet, covered by her dress; she obligingly raises it a few inches. The Doctor's somehow not very much surprised to see sensible shoes. No more era-appropriate dressing he fumes to himself...and then realises how tired, crotchety and downrightdamnbloodyold he sounds...
...and they both burst into furious giggles.
*
He hands her her coat. She steals the one hanging on his other arm.
'Finally,' she says, shrugging her way into dense wool, doing up the gorgeously shiny buttons, taking his hand.