F/C:- Hi, me again. To all waiting for me to add a new chapter onto my chaptered stories, I suggest you either read this in the meantime, or kill the plotbunnies that cause these drabbles. I blame this on a chance coversation I was making with Hana the other day (about Intertwined - new chapter in progress!), about how I don't think I can write romance without it being cheesy. She disagreed, so I gave it another go. And guess what? It ended up being cheesy. Cripes.
Summary – Rose is sick of being thrown around every time they go anywhere. But where will a few mattresses and some good ideas take them? Rose/9th Doctor.
Mattresses and Good Ideas.
The Doctor looked up from his book at the first loud thud. He frowned as it was followed by a slithering noise, which seemed to continue down the corridor outside the library where he sat, in the direction of the swimming pool. Intrigued, he put a marker in his place, stood up, crossed to the door and opened it, sticking his head out.
The corridor was empty. He strained his hearing, and heard yet more strange noises coming from down the corridor. Not looking back, he followed the sounds all the way to the main control room, and stood in the doorway, leaning against it, a small grin finding its way onto his face.
Rose, flushed and sweaty, was manhandling a very large mattress into position, and trying, with a series of ropes and other equipment, to attach it to the wall.
"Rose, not that I don't like the rather 25th century décor, but what are you doing?"
The blonde turned, a sheepish look on her face, even as she tied off the rope around one of the columns.
"Um," she paused, reaching out for the second of five mattresses she had obviously dragged from the storeroom. He folded his arms, the grin playing around his lips easily.
"Um?" he said playfully, earning a mild glare for his pertinence.
"I was thinking…"
"Ooooh!" he said in mock-wonder. That got him a harsher glare.
"I was thinking," she said firmly, "that every time you move around this contraption of yours,"
"Oi, you insulting my TARDIS?" he interrupted, frowning slightly.
"You always seem to end up with the two of us on the floor with at least three dozen bruises." She said through gritted teeth. Rose gestured at the mattresses. "So, voila."
"Mattresses." Was all he said, moving forwards.
"Yup, we land on them." She fell backwards onto the soft cushions easily, proving her point.
"Well I guessed that. What else would we do on them?" he said innocently. For some reason, he seemed very happy today, and she was slightly baffled as to why, and not a little worried. But that was kind of blanked by the sudden thought of what the two of them might do on mattresses.
"It's a good idea." She said, folding her arms and daring him to say otherwise. The Doctor moved forwards, coming to stop comfortably close to her, his eyes glinting in the light.
"Indeed, fantastic." He approved, placing his hand on the said mattress and pressing down lightly. Unnoticeably, he sidled closer, and oddly, Rose suddenly noticed he wasn't wearing his leather jacket. It wasn't that uncommon whilst they were alone in the TARDIS, but it made him more vulnerable-looking, and definitely sexier.
"In fact," he continued, and she could practically feel his breath, "I think it's an ace idea. Why don't we test it?" Before she could figure out what he meant, he had leant forwards and captured her lips in a soft kiss, making her fall backwards onto the mattress. Her lips were soft against his, and she was so close to him he could feel her heartbeat. The moment was electric, but he pulled away far too fast for Rose's liking.
"I thought it was a good idea." Rose said breathily, a smile brushing on her lips. She leant forwards and returned the gesture, pressing her lips firmly on his this time.
"And I think that's a pretty good idea too." She said when they finished. He grinned.
"Fantastic."
Some time later, the Doctor stood in the control room alone, a huge grin on his face. Rose was changing in the dressing rooms – he had promised her a good first date (that meant no revolutions or save-the-day routines). Looking up at the central column, he gave the controls a small pat.
"Thanks old girl." A few miniature bulbs flashed in acknowledgment as the TARDIS restored her stabilisers, and he grinned again.
Reviews, as always, appreciated.