TenxRose One-Shots

Paint Problems

Rose encourages the Doctor to paint and draw more

Established relationship

How do you guys feel about AU fics or Tentoo since he's, you know, technically Ten as well?

 

Sometimes she was his unwilling subject as they were lying in a field or standing by the ocean.  Not Earth's oceans, mind you, but a bright orange ocean that reminded Rose of a sort of soda.

Other times she was his very willing subject, because she liked how she looked in his drawings.  She thought he drew her more beautiful than she was, and she couldn't say she didn't appreciate it.

"You should draw more," she said quietly as he sketched her laying on her side in their bed. 

The Doctor smiled and moved forward from his chair to smooth the sleeve of her shirt so he could draw it easier.  "I draw quite a bit, Rose."

"Painting, then, do you paint?"  She asked.

He paused, shading in part of her hair before speaking again.  "Never really painted.  Would you like me to?"

"I think you'd like it," she replied, observing the way his tongue touched his front teeth in concentration as he worked.

His strokes were gentle, as if he were touching her and not paper.  She shivered at the thought.

"Are you alright?"  he asked, moving his eyes back up to her.

"Yeah," she responded.  "Fine."

He smiled and leaned forward again, this time to kiss her.  After a few moments he pulled away and hummed in satisfaction.  He returned to his drawing, and she giggled at his behavior.

"Don't you get tired of drawing me?"  She asked, barely above a whisper in case she broke his concentration.  "You could draw landscapes, like that forest we saw last week. But you drew me instead."

The Doctor didn't answer for awhile, and for a moment she thought he hadn't heard her.  "I draw you because you're beautiful."

And that was that.

They went out and got all kinds of paints the next day, and the Doctor painted in the Vortex for two more days.  She didn't mind not going on adventures for that short amount of time, because she liked to watch him.  His glasses would slide down his nose on occasion, but he'd never notice, so she'd step up and push them back up for him.

Or she'd stand behind him, her arms around his waist and her chin on his shoulder as he sat on a high stool with an easel, brush, and canvas before the open doors of the TARDIS, painting the Vortex.

"Told you," she murmured against his neck, and he grinned.

Eventually, the painting turned less tender and the Doctor became incredibly playful about it.  He'd flick paint on Rose's shirt and shrug, saying, "Guess you'll have to take it off now, won't you?"

To which she'd rip her shirt off without breaking eye contact and throw it in his face.

He'd try to teach her the ways of the brush, but she wasn't good at it, she was better at drawing, and she knew that.  So while he painted, she'd sit next to him and doodle, or read, or on occasion, he'd ask her to sing, and she'd oblige.

They started going on adventures again, but once they got back it was straight to painting for the Doctor, and now he mostly wanted to paint Rose, making her sigh in defeat.  Oh, she knew that was coming.

So she sat in front of the open TARDIS doors, and the Doctor painted her, giving her loud instructions on when to move or smooth her hair.

After that painting, he enthused about how he'd used his fingers for parts of it.  "I'm brilliant, Rose!  Finger painting in oil paints! And palms too, but well, that's relative, isn't it?  Come look!"

And she did.  She walked back to where he was painting and looked over his shoulder.  He had painted her from behind, the cosmos before her. 

"That is brilliant," she grinned at him.  "I love it."

"You'd better," he beamed at her.  "I'll let this dry, let's go to bed."

She nodded, noticing for the first time that she felt tired.  She walked in front of him, and he ran past her, smacking her bottom as he went.  She laughed and he turned around and held up a hand.  It was absolutely coated in paint.

"Doctor, you didn't," she said, trying to turn around to see her backside.

"I did!" He said cheerfully, rocking back on his heels.  "I've claimed you, Rose Tyler."

"Doctor, these are good jeans," she scolded him, finally getting a glimpse of the yellow handprint on the back pocket of her trousers.

"And now they're even better," he said, walking up to her and peering around her to look at the handprint.  "Yes.  I rather like it.  Keep it, won't you?"

She looked at the look on his face and grinned.  "Yeah, alright," she relented, walking in front of him again, "But only if I can return the favor!"