storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2015-02-16 03:29 pm
storypaint) wrote2015-02-16 03:29 pm
Entry tags:
[Doctor Who] all sense of time (Ten/Rose)
Title: all sense of time
Fandom: Doctor Who
Length: 470 words
Prompt: fandom_stocking forpaynesgrey
Pairing: Ten/Rose
Other: n/a
Excerpt: Sometimes they watched movies in the best theater this side of Alpha Centauri, or so the Doctor claimed. It was comfortably small and the couch adjusted to their body shapes and changed patterns at whim. It also pushed them closer and closer together over the course of the night. Rose always woke up with her head in the Doctor's lap.
Some days, they didn't leave the TARDIS.
Well, "days." They felt like days to Rose; she never asked the Doctor how much time had passed. They ate when they were hungry and she slept when she was tired. The TARDIS slid through time and space without their intervention. They were busy.
Sometimes they were busy sliding down very long hallways in their socks, catching a railing at just the right time not to bowl over down very long staircases.
Sometimes it was taking all of the pots and pans out of the TARDIS cupboard and making the Doctor explain what the more obscure ones did. Rose's favorite was a very tiny spoon used on some far-off planet to add spice grains to their most potent sauces. It gleamed like purple brass and even though it hadn't touched a bit of spice in a hundred years, still make her eyes sting.
Sometimes they watched movies in the best theater this side of Alpha Centauri, or so the Doctor claimed. It was comfortably small and the couch adjusted to their body shapes and changed patterns at whim. It also pushed them closer and closer together over the course of the night. Rose always woke up with her head in the Doctor's lap. He stroked her hair and stared at the screen, where a large number of beings with high collars spoke in a language the TARDIS would not translate for her.
He taught her how to write her name in Gallifreyan, gorgeous loops and swirls that she painted onto the wall of her bedroom with silver paint.
Rose shared with him too, of course. She taught him three new versions of rummy and four new recipes for dessert ("Of course the milk comes from a cow, Doctor, where else?" She didn't understand this cow thing he had). She taught him little songs she learned in the Girl Guides and the best place to buy a drink on her side of London and all about her family history, as much as she could remember hearing from her mum. He loved history, even little ones like hers.
She taught him -- well, perhaps they taught each other the right places to kiss, the right encouragements to whisper, the way it felt to lie next to someone for hours and not need to say a thing. They danced through the hallways, giggling, and made out in spare corners like teenagers. They lay on fake grass looking up at fake stars in a room where the holograms were practically real enough to touch, and he told her about Gallifrey, his voice only wobbling a little, once in a while.
And when they got their fill of the indoors, he'd spin a dial and smack three buttons and the TARDIS would sing them somewhere new to explore.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Length: 470 words
Prompt: fandom_stocking for
paynesgreyPairing: Ten/Rose
Other: n/a
Excerpt: Sometimes they watched movies in the best theater this side of Alpha Centauri, or so the Doctor claimed. It was comfortably small and the couch adjusted to their body shapes and changed patterns at whim. It also pushed them closer and closer together over the course of the night. Rose always woke up with her head in the Doctor's lap.
Some days, they didn't leave the TARDIS.
Well, "days." They felt like days to Rose; she never asked the Doctor how much time had passed. They ate when they were hungry and she slept when she was tired. The TARDIS slid through time and space without their intervention. They were busy.
Sometimes they were busy sliding down very long hallways in their socks, catching a railing at just the right time not to bowl over down very long staircases.
Sometimes it was taking all of the pots and pans out of the TARDIS cupboard and making the Doctor explain what the more obscure ones did. Rose's favorite was a very tiny spoon used on some far-off planet to add spice grains to their most potent sauces. It gleamed like purple brass and even though it hadn't touched a bit of spice in a hundred years, still make her eyes sting.
Sometimes they watched movies in the best theater this side of Alpha Centauri, or so the Doctor claimed. It was comfortably small and the couch adjusted to their body shapes and changed patterns at whim. It also pushed them closer and closer together over the course of the night. Rose always woke up with her head in the Doctor's lap. He stroked her hair and stared at the screen, where a large number of beings with high collars spoke in a language the TARDIS would not translate for her.
He taught her how to write her name in Gallifreyan, gorgeous loops and swirls that she painted onto the wall of her bedroom with silver paint.
Rose shared with him too, of course. She taught him three new versions of rummy and four new recipes for dessert ("Of course the milk comes from a cow, Doctor, where else?" She didn't understand this cow thing he had). She taught him little songs she learned in the Girl Guides and the best place to buy a drink on her side of London and all about her family history, as much as she could remember hearing from her mum. He loved history, even little ones like hers.
She taught him -- well, perhaps they taught each other the right places to kiss, the right encouragements to whisper, the way it felt to lie next to someone for hours and not need to say a thing. They danced through the hallways, giggling, and made out in spare corners like teenagers. They lay on fake grass looking up at fake stars in a room where the holograms were practically real enough to touch, and he told her about Gallifrey, his voice only wobbling a little, once in a while.
And when they got their fill of the indoors, he'd spin a dial and smack three buttons and the TARDIS would sing them somewhere new to explore.