Ficlet: Rose's Sense of Snow
Title: Rose's Sense of Snow
Characters: Ten2/Rose
Rating: All ages
Word count: ~550
Summary: Pete's World Christmas fluff. Rose introduces the Doctor to her own Christmas tradition. Written for my End of Time Advent Calendar.
"Was a time, I could have made it happen, just with the push of a button," the Doctor pouts.
Rose hands him a paper cup of hot chocolate and carefully blows on her own. "Yeah, but where's the fun in that? Anyone with the right tech can make it snow on Christmas, but that's not the point."
"There's a point?"
"Of course there's a- Wait... do you smell that?" Her posture stiffens and she takes another deep inhalation.
"Well, those beans on toast we had for tea yesterday haven't quite agreed with me."
"No, it's snow. I can smell it."
"You can... smell snow?"
"You can't? Take a deep breath. It's like... kind of metallic and a little bit like when it's about to rain in the summer, but sort of dryer, like old paper."
The Doctor rubs the back of his neck, displacing his knit cap. "Blimey, you've put a lot of thought into this."
"You grow up on the estate, you get a feel for when something's about to happen that might make it pretty."
Rose shields her eyes with her free hand and scans the sky, evaluating each cloud carefully.
"And what did you say to your mum to get us family release time to stand about on the allotment looking at clouds?" he asks.
"She understands. We used to do this together, her and me, when it was just the two of us. Only, she'd have a bit of brandy in her chocolate."
The wind swirls around them, picking up the edges of Rose's colourful scarf. The sound of London on Christmas Day is muted, almost serene. There are no zeppelins in the sky today, and even the car traffic is blissfully light.
"I think I see one," she whispers, as if the snow flake lazily drifting sideways and downwards is a wild animal, easily spooked. She points and leans in towards the Doctor. "Right there, do you see?"
They each follow the movements of that one lone flurry as it is blown by the wind, sometimes back up towards the clouds, sometimes towards them, sometimes away, until finally it reaches the ground. The Doctor immediately looks back up to the sky, searching for more, but there are none. Rose, however, puts her gloves back on and finishes the last couple of gulps of her chocolate.
"So, what do we do now?" he asks in a hushed tone.
"We pronounce our Christmas officially white and go back to bring good tidings of snow to the rest of the family."
"Is that it?"
She nods. "That's it."
"You sure you don't want me to work on a weather manipulator for next year?" he asks hopefully. "Might speed this whole process up."
She takes his arm and they turn to walk back to the house. "I'm sure."
"How about some enhanced weather radar? A trip to Snowdonia? There's sure to be some snow there. Hence the name."
"No, thank you."
"A sleeping bag? Some brandy, at least?"
"I'll think about it," Rose says, laughing. "But you may finally be getting on the right track."
Their feet crunch on the frozen ground and they huddle together as they stroll-two people approaching the world from opposite directions and arriving finally at the same destination.
Characters: Ten2/Rose
Rating: All ages
Word count: ~550
Summary: Pete's World Christmas fluff. Rose introduces the Doctor to her own Christmas tradition. Written for my End of Time Advent Calendar.
"Was a time, I could have made it happen, just with the push of a button," the Doctor pouts.
Rose hands him a paper cup of hot chocolate and carefully blows on her own. "Yeah, but where's the fun in that? Anyone with the right tech can make it snow on Christmas, but that's not the point."
"There's a point?"
"Of course there's a- Wait... do you smell that?" Her posture stiffens and she takes another deep inhalation.
"Well, those beans on toast we had for tea yesterday haven't quite agreed with me."
"No, it's snow. I can smell it."
"You can... smell snow?"
"You can't? Take a deep breath. It's like... kind of metallic and a little bit like when it's about to rain in the summer, but sort of dryer, like old paper."
The Doctor rubs the back of his neck, displacing his knit cap. "Blimey, you've put a lot of thought into this."
"You grow up on the estate, you get a feel for when something's about to happen that might make it pretty."
Rose shields her eyes with her free hand and scans the sky, evaluating each cloud carefully.
"And what did you say to your mum to get us family release time to stand about on the allotment looking at clouds?" he asks.
"She understands. We used to do this together, her and me, when it was just the two of us. Only, she'd have a bit of brandy in her chocolate."
The wind swirls around them, picking up the edges of Rose's colourful scarf. The sound of London on Christmas Day is muted, almost serene. There are no zeppelins in the sky today, and even the car traffic is blissfully light.
"I think I see one," she whispers, as if the snow flake lazily drifting sideways and downwards is a wild animal, easily spooked. She points and leans in towards the Doctor. "Right there, do you see?"
They each follow the movements of that one lone flurry as it is blown by the wind, sometimes back up towards the clouds, sometimes towards them, sometimes away, until finally it reaches the ground. The Doctor immediately looks back up to the sky, searching for more, but there are none. Rose, however, puts her gloves back on and finishes the last couple of gulps of her chocolate.
"So, what do we do now?" he asks in a hushed tone.
"We pronounce our Christmas officially white and go back to bring good tidings of snow to the rest of the family."
"Is that it?"
She nods. "That's it."
"You sure you don't want me to work on a weather manipulator for next year?" he asks hopefully. "Might speed this whole process up."
She takes his arm and they turn to walk back to the house. "I'm sure."
"How about some enhanced weather radar? A trip to Snowdonia? There's sure to be some snow there. Hence the name."
"No, thank you."
"A sleeping bag? Some brandy, at least?"
"I'll think about it," Rose says, laughing. "But you may finally be getting on the right track."
Their feet crunch on the frozen ground and they huddle together as they stroll-two people approaching the world from opposite directions and arriving finally at the same destination.