Fic: Pillow Talk (Ten/Rose | R)
Feb. 11th, 2008 04:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aibhinn_ficsTitle: Pillow Talk
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
aibhinn
Rating: R for sexual situations
Pairing: Ten/Rose
Warnings: Nakedness, sexuality
Summary: "When did you bring me that bicycle?" she repeated. "The red one. You told me you had. When was it?"
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not making any money. Please not to sue me.
Author's Note: Written for round 1.01 of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
doctor_rose_las, a "last author standing" competition. Prompt: Red bicycle when you were twelve.
Rose snuggled against the Doctor's bare shoulder as he stroked a hand up and down her back in a soothing rhythm, his body a comforting presence pressed along hers. After a shag like that, most blokes would have been asleep by now—but not him. She supposed his current level of quiet relaxation was his version of being out like a light, given his usual manic energy.
"Doctor?" she asked.
"Mm?"
She raised her head and looked down into his pale, freckled face, still lightly flushed from their exertions. "When did you bring me that bicycle?"
He blinked, clearly taken aback. "What?"
"When did you bring me that bicycle?" she repeated. "The red one. You told me you had. When was it?"
"Christmas 1999," he said slowly, brow furrowed. "Don't you remember? It was the Christmas when you were twelve, and—"
"That's not what I meant. I know when it was for me. When was it for you?"
His expression cleared, and he shifted, settling her a little more comfortably against him and reaching up to brush her hair from her face. "After Downing Street," he said. "I was feeling guilty, so I waited till you'd gone to bed—it was your first night in the TARDIS, and it took you a while to drop off—and then I went back to 1999 and bought the bicycle and left it outside your flat."
She folded her arm over his chest and rested her chin on it. "I remember that Christmas morning," she said thoughtfully. "We came out to go to Cousin Mo's and there it was, bright red, chained to the railing, with a huge tag that said 'To Rose from Father Christmas,' and the key to the chain tossed in through the cat door." She paused as something occurred to her, and then grinned. "I knew there was a reason I recognised your handwriting when I first started travelling with you!"
He chuckled. "That was a close call," he said reminiscently. "You got up at a perfectly ungodly hour that morning, you know. Good job you didn't stick your head out to get the paper, or happen to look at the door just as I was putting the key inside."
"That could have been bad," she agreed, and chuckled with him briefly before sobering. "But why were you feeling guilty?"
His eyes were dark and open, and in their depths she could see a terrible kind of wrenching pain—the pain that she had long since supposed he covered with bouncing and babbling. "I'd just pulled you away from your mum," he said in a voice so low she had to strain to hear it, "after having taken you from her for an entire year with no word. I couldn't even stay for tea. I just … rushed you away. I wanted to make up for it somehow."
"Couldn't?" Rose repeated. Travelling with the Doctor had made her sensitive to his word choices; he never, ever said anything he didn't mean exactly.
"No," he said softly. "It was too soon after the war. The loss was still too painful. I couldn't bear to watch you with your mum, and remember my family and all the families on Gallifrey who died. So I dragged you away, selfish to the end, because I just couldn't sit there and watch you and your mum together."
Tears budded in her eyes, and she blinked them away. One spilled over, trailing down her cheek. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't—" Didn't know, didn't remember, didn't think….
He smiled, that beautiful, broad smile, but with still just a hint of pain underneath, and brushed the tear away with a thumb. "I should be saying that to you," he said. "I'm the one who took you away from all that."
"I chose to go," Rose said firmly. "And I told you once, I wouldn't have missed it for the world." She leant forward and kissed him gently. He kissed back, soft lips against hers, hand sliding down to cup the nape of her neck under the fall of her hair. She pulled back a little, looking down at him, and smiled when he opened his eyes. She couldn't replace the family, the people, the love that he'd lost, but she could offer him everything she was and hope that it helped. "Better with two," she reminded him.
"Much," he agreed, pulling her close for another kiss.
Author:
aibhinnRating: R for sexual situations
Pairing: Ten/Rose
Warnings: Nakedness, sexuality
Summary: "When did you bring me that bicycle?" she repeated. "The red one. You told me you had. When was it?"
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not making any money. Please not to sue me.
Author's Note: Written for round 1.01 of
doctor_rose_las, a "last author standing" competition. Prompt: Red bicycle when you were twelve.Rose snuggled against the Doctor's bare shoulder as he stroked a hand up and down her back in a soothing rhythm, his body a comforting presence pressed along hers. After a shag like that, most blokes would have been asleep by now—but not him. She supposed his current level of quiet relaxation was his version of being out like a light, given his usual manic energy.
"Doctor?" she asked.
"Mm?"
She raised her head and looked down into his pale, freckled face, still lightly flushed from their exertions. "When did you bring me that bicycle?"
He blinked, clearly taken aback. "What?"
"When did you bring me that bicycle?" she repeated. "The red one. You told me you had. When was it?"
"Christmas 1999," he said slowly, brow furrowed. "Don't you remember? It was the Christmas when you were twelve, and—"
"That's not what I meant. I know when it was for me. When was it for you?"
His expression cleared, and he shifted, settling her a little more comfortably against him and reaching up to brush her hair from her face. "After Downing Street," he said. "I was feeling guilty, so I waited till you'd gone to bed—it was your first night in the TARDIS, and it took you a while to drop off—and then I went back to 1999 and bought the bicycle and left it outside your flat."
She folded her arm over his chest and rested her chin on it. "I remember that Christmas morning," she said thoughtfully. "We came out to go to Cousin Mo's and there it was, bright red, chained to the railing, with a huge tag that said 'To Rose from Father Christmas,' and the key to the chain tossed in through the cat door." She paused as something occurred to her, and then grinned. "I knew there was a reason I recognised your handwriting when I first started travelling with you!"
He chuckled. "That was a close call," he said reminiscently. "You got up at a perfectly ungodly hour that morning, you know. Good job you didn't stick your head out to get the paper, or happen to look at the door just as I was putting the key inside."
"That could have been bad," she agreed, and chuckled with him briefly before sobering. "But why were you feeling guilty?"
His eyes were dark and open, and in their depths she could see a terrible kind of wrenching pain—the pain that she had long since supposed he covered with bouncing and babbling. "I'd just pulled you away from your mum," he said in a voice so low she had to strain to hear it, "after having taken you from her for an entire year with no word. I couldn't even stay for tea. I just … rushed you away. I wanted to make up for it somehow."
"Couldn't?" Rose repeated. Travelling with the Doctor had made her sensitive to his word choices; he never, ever said anything he didn't mean exactly.
"No," he said softly. "It was too soon after the war. The loss was still too painful. I couldn't bear to watch you with your mum, and remember my family and all the families on Gallifrey who died. So I dragged you away, selfish to the end, because I just couldn't sit there and watch you and your mum together."
Tears budded in her eyes, and she blinked them away. One spilled over, trailing down her cheek. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't—" Didn't know, didn't remember, didn't think….
He smiled, that beautiful, broad smile, but with still just a hint of pain underneath, and brushed the tear away with a thumb. "I should be saying that to you," he said. "I'm the one who took you away from all that."
"I chose to go," Rose said firmly. "And I told you once, I wouldn't have missed it for the world." She leant forward and kissed him gently. He kissed back, soft lips against hers, hand sliding down to cup the nape of her neck under the fall of her hair. She pulled back a little, looking down at him, and smiled when he opened his eyes. She couldn't replace the family, the people, the love that he'd lost, but she could offer him everything she was and hope that it helped. "Better with two," she reminded him.
"Much," he agreed, pulling her close for another kiss.
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Date: 2008-02-12 01:08 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2008-02-12 01:42 am (UTC)I'm beginning to think that if I'm not your number one fan, I'm at least in the top ten. Yep.
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Date: 2008-02-12 01:42 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2008-02-14 02:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-14 09:10 pm (UTC)She couldn't replace the family, the people, the love that he'd lost, but she could offer him everything she was and hope that it helped. "Better with two," she reminded him.
Yes. ^_^
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Date: 2008-04-16 01:59 pm (UTC)Another fantastic fic...but gonna have to stop reading now or it'll be dawn before I manage to get to sleep!!
But you, definitely gives the warm fuzzies. CE really did a fab job as Nine...somehow the reasons behind not staying just shone through his performance, even if no words were spoken on it...
But yeah...tendency to ramble here...anyway, off to bed...