When Life Gives You Lemons, Make Lemonade
Lean, tan legs, crossed over the bright material of a striped beach towel. Sunglasses, perched ever-so flirtatiously on a pert nose. Perfectly glossed plump lips, pursed with a thin, hollow bit of plastic between them. The distinct scent of sun block, which has been generously spread over supple, youthful skin. Waves, crashing onto the sandy shoreline, only to be drawn back into themselves. Nature's eternal tug-of-war. Ironic, really. He was going through a similar process himself, over and over in his head. Somehow, through whatever unnatural means, he'd landed himself here. And even the beauty of his beach mate couldn't shake off the feeling of insistent shock and betrayal.
She had insisted, after visiting the icy world of Thoh, that they stop some place warm. Peferrably with a beach. He could not, for whatever reason, name such a destination off the top of his head. Besides, he'd reasoned, they had just finished up one vacation on the ice world, why stop any place else? Didn't she want to visit her mum, or maybe check up on Mickey-the-Idiot? It was time for adventure! Sure, they had barely escaped death this last time, but that had been a complete accident-
Her "dear-lord-you-might-be-a-highly-intelligent-alien-but-you-certainly-are-a-male-aren't-you" look was enough to silence his babbling. No, she had said, no, running for our lives yet again does not constitute a vacation, even if it is in a unique place. He had landed them in the middle of a bloody civil war, for god's sake. What was peaceful and relaxing about that?
To be fair, he had pointed out, it wasn't really a full-blown war, rather a skirmish between the two native species over—
Again, her "What-do-you-mean-it-WASN'T-a-WAR?" glare stopped him in his tracks. And then sent him straight back to the controls, where he promptly began looking up "proper" vacationing destinations.
"With a beach." She helpfully reminded.
Now that they were here, he couldn't find it in him to regret the decision. Especially not once he'd seen Rose in that bikini. The glass of lemonade she was currently nursing was not the only one sweating in the Hawaiian heat.
"…I don't mind the monsters and all, but it really can't hurt to do stuff like this every once in a while. You know, you have access to some of this planets most pristine places, but no, you'd rather kip 'round London half the time, rather than decompress in places like this. Right mad."
"Completely bonkers." He agrees, gaze sliding down her legs to her toes, the nails of which are lacquered a soft pink.
She took another sip of lemonade. "This is fantastic."
His only response is a grunt. He can't be sure if she's commenting on the beverage or their surroundings. Either way, a noncommittal noise seems like the best option.
"Really. I mean, it's great. Thank you."
Another grunt.
"You know, it wouldn't hurt to maybe, I dunno, enjoy some rays? Take off that old thing—" Flicking the cuff of his jacket. "—and drink a bit?"
Silence.
"Please?"
"…"
She leaned in, pout sliding into place with ease. "I dunno why you don't want to be here—it's completely lovely. Something about missing the danger, yeah? But can't we just have one day, one day for it to be just us?"
It's a plea Mickey had used on her plenty of times during their brief stops on the Powell Estates. Over private dinners, or quiet walks in the park. "Can't it just be us? No danger, no running, no monster. Just you and me and…" She'd never thought she would be the one repeating those words.
"I appreciate all the adventure. You know I love it. But I want some Doctor-and-Rose time now, all right? Is it such a crime, to want to hang for a while?"
Finally, a sigh. He stood, dusting off his jeans. She had played exactly the right cards to guilt him into a bathing suit. And he'd realized it too, but just let her get on with it. Knowing Rose, it would be far easier to accept his fate now, rather than attempt to reason her out of some other notion later. There was a "put… trunks on" sort of mumble issued out, and he started back toward the TARDIS. If putting on a pair of swimming trunks would please her, who was he to deny-
"Wait!"
The Time Lord paused in his reluctant trek, turning back to the blond.
She held her lemonade glass, shaking it slightly as she voiced her request. "Can I get a refill?"
A full minute passed as the alien stared, almost incredulously, at the painted glassware dangling between her fingers. Big eyes peered out from behind tinted lenses, hazel and innocent. Wordlessly, he snatched the thing from her grasp and marched to the time ship, murmuring under his breath about the manipulative nature of 19-year-old human girls.
Another shorty. It's 9 this time! Not much food mentioned, I know, but it ties together in the end. Please review! Please send prompts! I've got a rather depressing piece in the works, hopefully to be around 3000 words, but it's coming along rather slowly. Reviews are always a good motivation, though…:)