rose and nine baking?

Thanks for the prompt!! I cannot abide by banana flavouring but… hey, bananas are good so… *shrug*

Nine and Rose doing dishes on the TARDIS after an adventure. Could be before or after meeting Jack, but they get flirty and the conversation gets fluffy. Maybe they talk about dancing?

I went in a *bit* different direction, but hope you don’t mind. :) It’s still plenty fluffy. Thank you!

~*~O~*~

“Rose,” he complains. “The TARDIS will clean up any mess we make. I’ve told you that.”

“I know,” she says, picking up her dishes and heading to the sink. “And I told you that it’s unfair to leave all the dirty work for her.”

He groans, but doesn’t see the point in arguing. She’ll just do whatever she wants anyway, and he’d rather be with her than anywhere else, so it’s best just to go along with her.

The TARDIS has provided a sinkful of soapy water, and Rose sets about washing the dishes, handing them to him to dry. He does his job dutifully, putting them in the correct place once he’s done, and Rose smiles at him. It’s worth it for that smile.

“Feel better?” he asks in a gruff tone, trying to hide how pleased he is with the way she’s looking at him.

“Loads,” she assures him, then puts her hand in the water. He eyes her speculatively - he’d thought they were done - then quick as lightning, she raises her hand and flicks water at him.

He lets out a little outraged cry, and then plunges his hand into the water and does the same thing to her. Rose squeals laughter, and before he knows what’s happened, they’re in a water fight.

The TARDIS sides with Rose (of course), and she has the sprayer in her hand, squirting him without mercy. He grabs for it but she’s too quick; she sidesteps him easily and takes advantage of his closer proximity to hose down his face.

Sputtering, he catches her wrist and pries the sprayer from his hand. For a moment, less than a heartbeat, he considers doing the mature thing and putting it back, calling an end to this whole silly fight - but he does the immature thing instead and turns the water on her. She yelps and grabs a towel, holding it up as an ineffective shield, and he raises the sprayer over it to douse her head and face with water.

“What are you two doing?” he hears from the door to the galley, and both spin around, slinging water droplets from their head and bodies when they do to find Jack in the doorway, leaning against the door jamb and looking at them.

“Wet t-shirt contest?” Jack asks with a raised eyebrow, then smirks when Rose looks down and squeaks a little, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Behave, Harkness,” he growls.

Jack raises his hands. “I just thought if you two were having fun, maybe I might want in on it.”

“We’re done,” he snaps, putting the sprayer back. Rose is flushing gorgeously, the blush trailing down from her cheeks down her neck and under her wet collar. She turns back to the sink, giving he and Jack her back, and he hears her tinkering around.

“You two have fun then,” Jack drawls, then pushes away from the door to head down the corridor.

The Doctor turns to Rose and takes in the way her white shirt is glued to her back. He wishes he could feel guilty about it, but he just can’t.

“Truce, then?” he asks with a grin.

Rose turns around and upends a large glass of water over his head. He squawks and sputters, and when he opens his eyes, she’s smiling innocently at him.

“Truce.”

In your fic, Missing scenes, chapter 6 it mentions Hannah buying Hardy black tight boxers. Could you please write how that happened?

“Erm, Alec,sweetie, when was the last time you bought new underwear?” Hannah asked,holding up a pair of grey boxer, index hooked through a hole in the backside.

He shruggedand snatched it out of her hands. “Don’t.”

“Don’twhat?”

“Buy me newboxers.”

“Really?‘cause I had my eye on a leopard print thong.”

“I’m serious.”

“I’m certainlynot gonna start doing your shopping for you.” She bet Tess used to do that.

“Good.”

“Buuut…”She took a step closer and put her hands on his hips.

Hardyquirked an eyebrow.  “But?”

“Maybe you couldconsider something a little more… flattering.”

“Flattering?”

She titledher head with a flirtatious smile. “I like your bum, it’s nice.”

He rolledhis eyes, biting back a laugh.

As much ashe liked the direction this conversation was taking, he didn’t want to be lateto court. He pecked her lips, then disappeared into the bathroom to take ashower.

Later, whenthe water had stopped running, she heard a ripping sound followed by a stringof curses. Hardy’s flustered face peeked out from behind the bathroom door.

“Could you go buy me some underwear?”

25 & Ten x Rose, please!

(send me a number and I’ll write a ficlet*: 25. “I can’t believe you talked me into this.”)

ten x rose, domestics, all ages, 2.3k words, massively delayed but never forgotten; fluffy fluff mcfluffsalot

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” the Doctor mutters.

“I can’t believe you almost let an entire two minutes pass without a single complaint,” Rose retorts. Her breath leaves her mouth in a fine mist, hangs in the air for a moment after she’s done speaking. “Slacking a bit, you are.”

“Rose, I could take you to any wedding, anywhere, anywhen,” the Doctor complains. “Or anywho, for that matter. We could go see Napoleon and Josephine. We could watch the Five-Spouse Bonding Ceremony for Lavraxas III. I could get you a front-row seat for the royal wedding!”

He pauses for effect, and Rose can practically hear him looking at her. “You know,” he urges. “The royal wedding.”

Rose laughs, rolling her eyes. “Tempting as they sound, none of those have got my cousin in them.”

“Or maybe they’re just cousins you don’t know yet. I hear Lavraxas’s second wife has a touch of human ancestry. Only one way to find out!”

He keeps talking as they walk, prattling on about polygamous unity ceremonies on twelfth-century Calgudon, but Rose isn’t really listening. She’s too busy shivering. She felt fine when she stepped out of the TARDIS but now the wind is punishing her for her lack of foresight, biting into her bare arms and legs and eating through the thin material of her dress. On top of that, her footwear presents a distraction of an entirely different sort—she has to watch every step she takes to ensure she doesn’t trip over the uneven pavement, scanning the ground for any suspicious nooks or wily crannies that could pop up out of nowhere and snare the heels of her pumps. She opens her mouth to complain that whoever originally designed the blasted things was clearly a sadist hellbent on high-fashion torture, but thinks better of it—knowing the Doctor, he may very well confirm her theory, and then insist on proving it to her.

“I’m just saying,” the Doctor continues, “that there are plenty of other activities we could participate in that would not involve formalwear, uncomfortable fancy undergarments, or impractical blister-causing shoes.”

“What would you know about fancy undergarments?” Rose teases, hugging herself in defense against the chill.

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