For as long as they’d dated, she’d teased him about his love for jumpers and rumpled shirts; asking if he was dressing the way he thought a DI would, or if he’d been born with that fashion sense. As her question was usually asked as she divested him of said clothing, he found he’d never minded.
She will eventually break him of the habit of dressing as though he's borrowed Martin's clothes…
Rose looked at it, her face softening. “‘s...dinged and lived a hard life, but it’s cherished. I’ve seen what you put it through—it’s resilient. And the face...’s beautiful.” Her gaze returned to his face, her expression vulnerable.
It's got so much character, and was borne of love between Peter's Mum and Dad, and made it through years of neglect intact… no, no parallels at all.
“You’ve not been with me for every shower I take, Rose.”
“More’s the pity,” Rose offered, her tongue peeping from the corner of her mouth.
If they showered together all the time, I don't know how they would make it out of the house on the mornings they're together.
“At the cottage? Whenever the water’s warm enough. Here? Whenever I can.”
“I...I didn’t know that.”
As Rose's mind drifts happily to the image of Peter's slender figure slicing through the water, coming up onto the beach dripping wet, or pushing himself up out of the water over the wall of the pool…
Rose knew he swam up at the cottage—she’d found him going for a swim on their first visit, and had given him the time and privacy he craved to go for a swim on each of their subsequent visits—but he supposed he’d never mentioned his proclivity for swimming laps when he really needed to clear his mind.
She 'found' him going for a swim, eh? And she didn't join him out there?
He couldn’t help it—he laughed, stifling it quickly when he saw the flash of hurt in her eyes.
“Y’don’t need to laugh...”
That's not exactly the best way to encourage her interest, dude. I'm picturing a look on her face about on par with when the Doctor laughed at her for the PW's Rose turning out to be a dog.
“No, Rose. Look at me.” He set the watch down, turning his torso to face hers. “Listen to what I say, don’t think about how it’s spelled.”
Given that the various Gaelic groups seem to have based their orthography on pissing off the English for making them write it down? XP
Rose tried again, improving, and he leaned down for a kiss. “We’ll teach you Gaelic yet.”
Rose leaned towards him, licking her lips. “Will I be rewarded if I learn quickly?”
“Yes,” he whispered, closing the distance between them.
With rewards scaled for the difficulty of the lesson? ;D
“Oh. I think I like that.” Rose was still breathless. “What’s my next lesson?”
“Telling me you love me repeatedly as I make love to you,” he growled, leaning into her again, his lips crashing against hers as his arms pulled her to him.
Warning: filthy talk in Gaelic ahead, 50 meters.
It was another day before Peter finally got around to finding a new band for his beloved watch.
Maybe Aqualad should try a vulcanized rubber band for the replacement...
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Prin AWT Comments 2 of 2
Date: 2008-05-19 04:15 pm (UTC)She will eventually break him of the habit of dressing as though he's borrowed Martin's clothes…
Rose looked at it, her face softening. “‘s...dinged and lived a hard life, but it’s cherished. I’ve seen what you put it through—it’s resilient. And the face...’s beautiful.” Her gaze returned to his face, her expression vulnerable.
It's got so much character, and was borne of love between Peter's Mum and Dad, and made it through years of neglect intact… no, no parallels at all.
“You’ve not been with me for every shower I take, Rose.”
“More’s the pity,” Rose offered, her tongue peeping from the corner of her mouth.
If they showered together all the time, I don't know how they would make it out of the house on the mornings they're together.
“At the cottage? Whenever the water’s warm enough. Here? Whenever I can.”
“I...I didn’t know that.”
As Rose's mind drifts happily to the image of Peter's slender figure slicing through the water, coming up onto the beach dripping wet, or pushing himself up out of the water over the wall of the pool…
Rose knew he swam up at the cottage—she’d found him going for a swim on their first visit, and had given him the time and privacy he craved to go for a swim on each of their subsequent visits—but he supposed he’d never mentioned his proclivity for swimming laps when he really needed to clear his mind.
She 'found' him going for a swim, eh? And she didn't join him out there?
He couldn’t help it—he laughed, stifling it quickly when he saw the flash of hurt in her eyes.
“Y’don’t need to laugh...”
That's not exactly the best way to encourage her interest, dude. I'm picturing a look on her face about on par with when the Doctor laughed at her for the PW's Rose turning out to be a dog.
“No, Rose. Look at me.” He set the watch down, turning his torso to face hers. “Listen to what I say, don’t think about how it’s spelled.”
Given that the various Gaelic groups seem to have based their orthography on pissing off the English for making them write it down? XP
Rose tried again, improving, and he leaned down for a kiss. “We’ll teach you Gaelic yet.”
To borrow a phrase from
Rose leaned towards him, licking her lips. “Will I be rewarded if I learn quickly?”
“Yes,” he whispered, closing the distance between them.
With rewards scaled for the difficulty of the lesson? ;D
“Oh. I think I like that.” Rose was still breathless. “What’s my next lesson?”
“Telling me you love me repeatedly as I make love to you,” he growled, leaning into her again, his lips crashing against hers as his arms pulled her to him.
Warning: filthy talk in Gaelic ahead, 50 meters.
It was another day before Peter finally got around to finding a new band for his beloved watch.
Maybe Aqualad should try a vulcanized rubber band for the replacement...