Ninth Doctor Drabble Spree Drabbles

[amberfocus]

Title:  Ninth Doctor Drabble Spree Drabbles
Author:  amberfocus
Characters/Pairings:  Nine/Rose
Genre:  fluff, romance, hurt/comfort
Ratings:  All ages through Teen
A/N:  After my recent prompt drabble writing spree yesterday and today, I thought I'd take and organize them for archival purposes in my masterfic list.  All drabbles exactly 100 words each.

 

For corusca--Nine/Rose:  Mosquitoes

“Are you sure I won’t get bitten?” Rose asks as the sun sets. “Your leather jacket will protect you. This planet’s full of mosquitoes. I don’t want to end up itching all night long.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he insists firmly, wrapping her in his arms. “Watch.”

Brilliant red rubies light up the twilight and Rose stands stunned as the giant insects litter the air. Their gleaming bellies are bigger than her body as they flutter through the night sky.

She relaxes into him, then—“Ooo!” she gasps.

He grins and she smacks him. “What? Never said I didn’t bite.”


For sunfall_e--Nine/Rose:  Kindle

The Doctor kneels by the cave mouth trying to kindle a fire, but all of the wood they have found is soaking wet from the dripping rain. Finally he gives up, his sonic no match for Mother Nature.

“Sorry.”

He can tell she’s cold by the way she shivers.

“Keep me warm.”

He slips off his jacket and wraps the warm, supple, black leather about her, pulling her into his arms, sharing his own meager warmth.

She shudders and sighs and turns in his embrace. He feels her lips on his throat. Flames of a different sort roar into life.
 

For othermewriter--Nine/Rose:  Cold

“How are you feeling?” the Doctor asks. He sets the tray down on Rose’s nightstand.

Rose answers him with a violent sneeze and a watery smile. “Awful.” She glances at the gently steaming chicken soup, tea, and toast he’s brought her.

“Think you can eat?”

“Dunno.” She sneezes again and he hands her a tissue. She honks loudly into it.

“Sounds like a hornbleck’s mating call.” She bats his arm. He grins.

“You’ll have to take me to see them, if I don’t die of this.”

“It’s just the common cold.”

“Got a cure?”

He kisses her.

“Feel better already.”


For housemaid79 --Nine/Rose:  Biplane

“Why can’t we go out there?” Rose asks.

It’s December 17, 1903 and they’ve arrived at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina in time for the first flight of the Wright brothers and they’re just hovering in the TARDIS.

“They might recognize me,” he admits.

“What?”

“It was me suggested they use a biplane,” he says. “Might have…helped them tweak the design a bit.”

“What happened to not interfering with fixed points in time?”

The Doctor shrugs. “Some points are more fixed than others?” he asks innocently.

Rose rolls her eyes.

“Just watch.”

It only lasts 12 seconds, but it’s amazing nonetheless.


For develish1--Nine/Rose:  Custard

“It’s like walking through custard,” Rose complains. “Ooey gooey custard that’s sat in the ramekins too long, the water’s boiled out, and then it’s formed a crust. That’s what walking through this bog’s like.”

The Doctor doesn’t respond, pulling his boots carefully out of the muck one by one.

“Prettiest tropical planet ever, Rose, he says. Why’s it—?”

The only way to shut up her complaining is to grab her by the shoulders, push her up against a tree, and give her a thorough snogging. Now she has something else to think about. And he can think in peace.


For pncwho--Nine/Rose:  Merriment

He’s joyous in a way she hasn’t seen before. Light. Almost…free. So much time spent with this man, but sometimes he remains as much a stranger to her as he ever was. The natives have absconded with his armor. Instead he wears flowing white trousers and a Kelly green shirt, low cut and tied at the waist. His eyes follow the lines of the sky blue sundress that drapes her form, leaving little to the imagination. “You look beautiful.” Rose waits for a qualifier that doesn’t come. His merriment is catching. He pulls her into his arms and they dance.
 

For anon_aspasia--Nine/Rose:  Mellifluous

Rose decides to take a nice long soak in her favorite bathtub when she hears singing. The Doctor has beaten her there she notes as thick steam emerges from the bathroom. He hasn’t shut the door. She lurks in the corridor, watching his close shorn head tip back and watching his throat move.

She hears the words of his beautiful, mellifluous language flowing as swiftly and as truly as the water from the tap.

Contentment washes over her at his happiness.

He turns his head and beckons her forward.

Best thing about this bathtub is it’s big enough for two.