http://dark-tardis.livejournal.com/ (
dark-tardis.livejournal.com) wrote in
fracturedrp2010-10-25 10:32 pm
On a mission to cheer Rose up. (open to all recent companions on Rose's TARDIS )
The TARDIS had been worried about how much Rose had been drinking lately, she needed to cheer up a bit, or at least not drink herself stupid as much. So the firey redheaded projection, left the ship version of herself, and started to walk down the street. To those that weren't aware of what she was, she passed as a typical twenty year old woman. However if somebody were to bump into her, or touch her, they'd see she was nothing more then a hologram, at least for now.
She wasn't sure what to do to make the dark haired Rose cheer up, but she was determined to find something, well something other then liquor, and cigarettes.
She wasn't sure what to do to make the dark haired Rose cheer up, but she was determined to find something, well something other then liquor, and cigarettes.

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He gave a startled sound at the voice, though, and sat up quickly out of an effort to preserve Rose's modesty from...well, whoever that was.
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She moved over to him pissed off, "Somebody had better be dieing right now, otherwise I'm going to kill you!" She snapped at him.
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"Who are you?"
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When she was alone with the Doctor, she used some of that left over anger towards something a bit more fun.
Rose then spun him around slamming him against the door, before biting fairly hardly on his neck, then moving back towards his lips, nipping at them some as she kissed him.
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The man--who was he?!--vanished too quickly to recover from her attack and properly answer him, but that did not mean the Doctor wanted an answer any less.
Much as he liked Rose and kissing and kissing Rose, he liked answers, too. "Rose?" He flailed a bit to keep his words from being unrecognizably muffled. "Rose! Who is that? What's going on?"
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And he really did like the whole kissing thing. Well, the naked-bed-snogging thing. With Rose. Really, he did. He supposed, given her compelling argument, questioning what a military man was doing on the TARDIS--wandering into Rose's room like he belonged there--could wait until a bit later.
That said, he wriggled his hands free this time, and cupped them around her jaw instead. He liked the feel of her skin, and he was curious what her hair would feel like when it wasn't abused with so much peroxide.
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The nails drew a hiss and harsher nips in response, but she had said--well, implied really, but he worked with what he could--she liked it rough, so he gave back as good as he got. It was different than he'd normally experienced with Rose, but not in any unfortunate way. He was very good at adapting.
Of course, really, even if he weren't, it was Rose. That was enough for him. It always was.
He'd like to think, in retrospect, the feeling was mutual.