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| Tenth Doctor | |
Blessing, and Blessing by cordelialear [Reviews - 4]  Author's Notes: | |
“Do they mean bless the temple or bless the temple?”
“What do you think?”
She closed her eyes and shook her head, “Have you ever noticed that we’re either being thrown in some dank, prison where the guards are overly fond of bondage, or being forced to bless some bloody temple?”
He sighed rubbing a hand over his eyes, wearily. “That does seem to be the case, now that you mention it.”
“Why?”
He looked up at her then: her gold hair was twisted elaborately up, leaving her shoulders tantalizingly bare. The gauzy, scarlet layers wrapped about her torso left little to the imagination.
“I haven’t the foggiest, and that’s saying something,” he replied.
She plopped down next to him, exasperated, “So, what’s the plan this time?”
“Weeelllll, judging from previous experience, we either be very convincing in our ‘blessing,’ or if this chamber has a duct system, like I know it has,” he said rising to his feet searching the ceiling above, “We can get out of here. Preferences?”
“I’ll be look out,” she said turning to face the door.
He quickly pulled out the sonic screwdriver, and pointed it at the grating covering the duct. Nothing happened. He tried again, a different setting, but once again, the grate remained in place.
Rose turned back to him. “Hurry, Doctor,” she whispered fiercely.
He examined the screwdriver, ignoring his scantily clad companion’s urgings. Nothing appeared to be off. He pulled out his specs and began fiddling with the controls. It wasn’t lighting, wasn’t emitting any frequencies at all. He began smacking the device against his palm, changing settings rapidly, trying to get any type of reaction from the tool.
He couldn’t be bothered with the sounds of footsteps coming from outside of the chamber door, or Rose’s attempts to get his attention, focused as he was on fixing their current problem. So, it was mildly annoying when the device was ripped from his hands, and his young companion was grabbing his shoulders and wrapping her leg around his waist, causing him to topple forward on top of her.
Rose ripped his suit jacket off him, tore through the buttons of his shirt front, and yanked his belt from his trousers faster than he had time to react. He was just about to ask her if she’d had the wine, when she pressed her mouth to his, and placed his palm on her left breast.
The door swung open, and Rose let out an enraged scream, as would be the appropriate response, the Doctor mused, had anyone been disturbed doing what it was they appeared to be doing. The door slammed closed just as quickly as it had opened.
They lay there, tense, and perfectly silent, straining to hear any sound from outside the door. The scuffle of feet was heard hastily retreating down the corridor, and they both let out a sigh of relief.
And then, the Doctor remembered the placement of his right hand.
He quickly pulled back, away from her, coughing, and rubbing at the back of his neck. And she, minx that she was, had the audacity to laugh at him.
“You’d think you’d be used to that by now,” she chuckled, standing up. “You know we never get to ‘Run!’ in these scenarios.”
He blinked, still a bit in shock from their previous predicament. Now that she mentioned it…
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say some one was doing this to us on purpose.”
“Why in hell would they want to do that?”
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