Drabble: I Hate Being Sick
Feb. 19th, 2011 11:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lindenharpTitle: I Hate Being Sick
Author: Lindenharp
Rating: All ages
Characters: Ninth Doctor, Rose Tyler
Series: none
Genre: drabble, hurt/comfort
Word Count: 100
Spoilers: none
Summary: She really, really hates being sick.
Disclaimer: The sandbox belongs to the BBC. I'm just playing here, in the corner, making little sand-TARDISes. Not making any money, not asserting any claims.
A/N: Written as a cheer-her-up for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
honorh who is not feeling well. Thanks to wendymr for the quick beta.
“Not fair,” Rose mutters. “I hate being sick--” She coughs violently. Her throat burns. It’s not even some exotic alien disease. She’s got the flu.
“Drink this.” The Doctor holds a steaming mug to her lips. It smells like pine, but it doesn’t taste bad, and it soothes her throat. She shivers.
“Bedtime.” Those strong hands are surprisingly gentle. He pulls the pink duvet up.
“Stay with me?”
He nods and carefully lies down beside her. One arm curls across her. She breathes in the scent of leather. It smells like comfort, like home.
It’s not completely bad, being sick.
Author: Lindenharp
Rating: All ages
Characters: Ninth Doctor, Rose Tyler
Series: none
Genre: drabble, hurt/comfort
Word Count: 100
Spoilers: none
Summary: She really, really hates being sick.
Disclaimer: The sandbox belongs to the BBC. I'm just playing here, in the corner, making little sand-TARDISes. Not making any money, not asserting any claims.
A/N: Written as a cheer-her-up for
honorh who is not feeling well. Thanks to wendymr for the quick beta.“Not fair,” Rose mutters. “I hate being sick--” She coughs violently. Her throat burns. It’s not even some exotic alien disease. She’s got the flu.
“Drink this.” The Doctor holds a steaming mug to her lips. It smells like pine, but it doesn’t taste bad, and it soothes her throat. She shivers.
“Bedtime.” Those strong hands are surprisingly gentle. He pulls the pink duvet up.
“Stay with me?”
He nods and carefully lies down beside her. One arm curls across her. She breathes in the scent of leather. It smells like comfort, like home.
It’s not completely bad, being sick.
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no subject
Date: 2011-02-20 06:17 am (UTC)I wish I had a Nine to give me tea and curl up with.
Sorry. The best I can do is this: