Clara/Rose #9 for the kissfic-prompty- thing please :).
Sure thing, nonny! Just fyi though, I did take a tiny bit of liberty with the prompt, since I only really ship and write Rose with the Doctor. (But I think you’ll find it still very much fills the request. ;)
Rose is eleven years, two months, and twenty-eight days old when she has her first kiss.
The kiss is commemorated forever in her diary in a bright-pink scrawl. Kissed Mickey today, the entry reads. After break, beneath the stands. It was nice. Sort of wet. Might do it again. She punctuates the entry with a series of glittery flower stickers, slapping several on the diary’s binding, another next to Mickey’s name.
(She adds a heart next to it–that’s what kisses mean, right? Hearts and love and gooey-fluttering feelings in your tummy? Either way, the stickers and the heart all feel very official. First kiss, check.)
Rose nods in satisfaction.
Rose is sixteen years, two months, and twelve days old when she has her (second) first kiss.
Jimmy kissed me today!!! she writes in her diary–it’s a little faded now, fraying at the edges and underneath the stickers where their corners peel and yellow, but it’s still got empty pages for writing-in. Thot he was still w Hayley but he said nah its all sorted. Wants me to go see his band play down the pub tomorrow n said maybe hell come w me to winter formal! I cant believe it everythings coming up Rose (ha) ♥ ♥ ♥ .
She doesn’t have any stickers to seal her sentiment this time (she’s too old and worldly for that sort of thing now anyway, isn’t she?) so instead she sneaks her mum’s very best lipstick and plants a luscious kiss next to the entry in a shade as brilliantly scarlet as her name. She pulls back with a grin, surveying her handiwork. It all feels very adult, doesn’t it? Much more grown-up than cartoon-flowers and glitter.
Rose picks up a gel pen and scribbles a series of Mrs. Rose Stone variants on a half-dozen pages.
Rose is sixteen years, seven months, and nine days old when Jimmy Stone breaks her heart.
(She is sixteen years, seven months, and ten days old when she leaves him.)
Rose has lost track of her age by the time she has her first kiss.
Oh, she’s sure she’s in her early twenties, give or take a few months, and she’s also sure the Doctor could track it for her, if she asked–could probably tick off the digits down to the millisecond, counting off the minutes that had passed since “Run”. She’s equally sure that she doesn’t care, because the Doctor just emerged from their room in the palace wearing a curve-hugging maroon suit. No, wait; she’s wearing a curve-hugging maroon Suit. It definitely deserves that capital S.
And if Rose didn’t know any better, she’d think those were heels.