Author: sinecure PM
After Doomsday, Rose is living in Pete's World, but things aren't as great as the Doctor had hoped for her or her family.Rated: Fiction M - English - Drama/Angst - 10th Doctor & Rose T. - Chapters: 4 - Words: 33,910 - Reviews: 15 - Favs: 46 - Follows: 9 - Published: 04-20-10 - Status: Complete - id: 5911419
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Title: Sub Rosa (4/4)
Rating: Adult (M)
Genre: Angst, drama, hurt/comfort, smut
Summary: After Doomsday, Rose is living in Pete's World, but things aren't as great as the Doctor had hoped for her or her family.
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who.
Author's Notes: Thanks to JennyLD for the beta. (This was posted most everywhere else a year ago for the TARDIS Big Bang. Somehow, I forgot to post it here.)
With the sound of the slamming door still rattling in the frame and ringing in her ears, Rose pressed her back to the wall beside it, letting out the breath she felt like she'd been holding forever. Since first hearing those familiar words fall from his lips.
Not Charles D'Raist. Not a Torchwood employee. The Doctor.
Fisting her hands into her eyes, she tried to dam the tears, tried to will them away, even tried to bargain with herself that she could cry later, when she wasn't so furious and... ashamed.
"Oh, god," she mumbled, feeling nausea rise in her. "I shagged the Doctor."
But immediately on the heels of that thought, she shook her head. She hadn't shagged the Doctor, she'd fucked him, had his cock in her mouth.
Holding her hand to her head, she squeezed her eyes tight. His mouth had-- and his fingers. "Oh, god."
The voice had been wrong--too deep and low-- but the body! It'd been just right, perfect enough for her to give in and allow herself to fantasize about another man while with a client. And that was-- no, that wasn't what was so wrong, so embarrassing, it was that she'd fallen so deeply into the fantasy--she nearly laughed at the irony--that she'd called out his name while with someone else.
And, no matter how much a client assured her that he didn't mind, she'd broken the cardinal rule: make it all about the client.
For two years, she'd been able to keep herself under control, but she'd failed miserably this time, and it didn't matter if he hadn't minded. Or even that he'd insisted. All that mattered was that she'd been unprofessional.
Fighting against a sob, she slid down the wall, legs pressed tight against her chest.
Embarrassment mixed with shame, and she hid her face in her knees. The Doctor. Here. Not just here, but... here. In her room, in her bed. In her body!
Her life had been fine. Just fine. Finally, after two years of living with the loss and grief over losing her mum and Tony, finally, after three years of living with the loss and grief over losing him, finally, she'd said goodbye.
But not just that; she was also finally making an effort to have a life of sorts in her adopted universe.
Then he'd come along, hid who he was, disguised his voice, forced her to think of him again. Forced her to remember what he felt like in so many ways, because, every touch of 'Charles' reminded her of the Doctor, and she just hadn't been able to figure out why.
Not until those stupid words he was always saying. Was he really sorry? Did he even know what it meant to be sorry anymore?
Her heart, pounding in her chest, felt like it was trying to escape, to leave her behind and chase after the man it belonged to. "Doctor," she whispered mournfully, and then it hit her.
He was here!
He'd come for her--she snickered a little hysterically at that--made it through the void, crossed an entire universe to find her, and she'd thrown him out! He'd used her? Maybe. Wanted her? Definitely. And he'd gone about it in a completely wrong way, but she still loved him, still wanted to travel with him.
So, he'd made a mistake, done a stupid thing, but he'd forgiven her plenty. Her father immediately came to mind and a snarl left her lips.
Her proper father, not the Pete from this world.
Hands scrabbling at the wall, she pushed to her feet and yanked the hotel room door open, rushed out and quickly looked down the expanse of brightly lit hall to her right--empty--then to her left. Her heart sank at the sight of the other empty hallway. He was gone. She'd thrown him out, he'd left, and now he was gone from her life, yet again. Probably for good this time.
The lift dinged down the hall, giving her a moment of hope, but it was an old woman who stepped out.
Rose went back into the room.
Pulling the door shut with a click that reverberated through her, she turned the lock and leaned back against the door with a sob. A moment later, she heard the sound of the universe righting itself and saw it taking the shape of a blue police box in the corner.
Shame swept through her again.
The Doctor knew now what she was and what she did. Though she wasn't ashamed of being a call girl, having someone from her past, someone who'd known her before all of this, someone who'd made her a better person know what she was doing now, was too much for her.
Mickey's reaction had been bad enough. But the Doctor.
Hurrying into the bathroom before the TARDIS had fully formed, she closed and locked the door behind her.
Hiding from him.
The thought of facing him again this soon, had her heart pounding, her chest feeling tight. She darted her eyes around the bathroom, but there was no other way out. Except one. She stripped naked, knowing he would leave her alone for a while if she were in here, then turned on the faucets and climbed into the shower.
She was ecstatic to see him again, glad he hadn't left without a word, but now she was faced with some hard decisions and tough choices.
The spray of the hot water on her face, through her hair, sliding down her body, felt nice and cleansing. It was only after she soaped up that she realized that tears were flowing down her cheeks. A sob left her at the realization that she'd screwed things up rather spectacularly this time.
She'd hit him!
Her whole hand ached and throbbed. Cradling it to her chest, giving up on trying to wash herself, she let the tears and the shame flow through her. Why'd he show up here?
Why couldn't he have just popped into her flat and asked her if she fancied the trip of a lifetime?
Even if he'd known what she did, that she had sex for a living, even then, it wouldn't have been nearly as bad as this. Coming to her, gawking at the freak she'd become-- no!
The freak he thought her to be.
She was proud of herself, proud of her job. She'd taken a life that had nothing and no one in it anymore and she'd made something of herself. Without any pity-charity from Pete.
Torchwood--she nearly laughed at having thought him from Torchwood--was behind her, out of her life. Their tests... she shuddered. It'd been two years and the memories were still bad enough to make her nauseous.
Then her mum and the baby were suddenly gone, torn from her. Pete had given up, just stopped trying altogether. And so had she. Leaving his mansion and quitting Torchwood were the two best decisions she'd made in this universe.
The shower curtain was suddenly flung to the side, slapping wetly against the wall by the tub, and the Doctor stood there watching her as her heart pounded harder from the shock.
She hadn't heard him come in. Hadn't heard the sonic screwdriver, which he must've used on the lock.
He was dressed exactly as before, when she'd thrown him out, and she realized he'd walked through the hotel like that. White dress shirt unbuttoned, hanging off of his shoulders, chest visible beneath. A chest she'd kissed and caressed with no idea of it being his.
Anger shot through her again.
His trousers were zipped, but not buttoned. He didn't have shoes or socks or tie on. No jacket. His hair was flattened in places and mussed in others.
He looked... sexy. Delicious. Adorable.
And then he was stepping into the shower with her.
"What're you doing?" she demanded, taking a step back, out of the spray. He was invading her space, coming where she'd thought herself safe from his prying eyes. Her head dropped down, and she hoped he couldn't see the tears, hoped her eyes weren't red-rimmed.
That's all this night needed, she thought, the Doctor seeing her crying. Him realizing he'd brought her to tears.
But he didn't answer, just pulled the curtain closed and wrapped her in his arms. "I'm sorry," he told her, clearly and succinctly. The sorrow in his voice made her eyes fill to overflowing, made her lip tremble. Made her arms wrap tightly around him, gripping handfuls of his wet shirt in her fists. She felt the scratchy fabric beneath her cheek as she rested her head against his shoulder, letting the tears fall.
"I buried you," she said harshly, pushing away from him. "I buried you, and I burnt you, and you're sitting at the bottom of a rooftop garden." Wiping uselessly at her eyes, she backed away from him, staring at the peach tiled wall before turning her back on him.
He was the one who'd fucked up here, not her. She wasn't going to just... fall into his arms and cry and everything would be all right.
"Just go," she told him, heart clenching.
"No, I can't leave you now."
She peered over her shoulder at him. "Not gonna off myself if that's what you think."
"Off your-- no! Of course I don't think you'd... the thought never crossed my mind." He backed away a bit, eyes fixed on a spot just over her shoulder, confusion lacing his expression.
Grabbing a random bottle from the shelf beside her, she scoffed at him. Dumping the contents into her upturned palm, she sniffed the liquid.
Smelt like vanilla, but she had no clue what it was.
Rubbing it into her hair rather than reading the bottle like a normal person would, she was rather happy when it lathered up nicely and she had the hope that it was indeed shampoo.
He was still standing behind her, her bare back was to him. He could see every bit of her he wanted to, but then again, he'd already seen it all. Already taken his fill. She was the one who'd been blindfolded.
A sigh left him, one of the heaviest she'd ever heard.
Hands rinsing her hair, she turned back to him, curious.
His eyes flitted to her for a moment before sliding away again. "I've lived nine lives before this one-- well, nine separate bodies can feel a bit like nine separate lives."
"Like a cat," she muttered, scrubbing fiercely at her scalp. Swiping at the soap running into her eyes, she ducked under the spray, rinsing her hair thoroughly.
She thought she felt him run his hand down the strands plastered against her back and shoulders, but when she jerked her head around to look, he was standing there casually, with his hands in his trouser pockets.
Looking completely normal and relaxed. While standing in a tub in a sopping suit in the middle of a shower.
Rolling her eyes, she turned away again and grabbed another random bottle. Looked like conditioner. Shaking her head, she absently rubbed the creamy, vanilla scented liquid into her hair.
"I had a wife, children," he continued, then stressed, "grandchildren."
Rose went still.
He'd mentioned having had kids before, or at least, being a dad, but never a wife or grandkids. Once again, as had only happened a few times before, she was forcefully struck by the fact that the Doctor was alien. Not just an alien, but alien to her. Especially now, when she'd been apart from him for three years, and then suddenly one night he just showed up out of the blue and... shagged her.
Hard. And good. And thoroughly.
Then he began to randomly chat about his family, apropos of nothing.
"Susan," he mused, and Rose held her arms to her chest, hands catching the water as she turned to him. His eyes rose to her. "My granddaughter. She's gone, of course, with all the rest. All of my people." He sat on the edge of the tub, the shower curtain tautening under him until he freed it, shoving it out of the way, making it billow out behind him. Scratching his hand, he looked just a little bit lost, but then he seemed to snap out of it.
Rose merely stood under the spray of warm water, waiting, listening.
His eyes settled back on hers. "I've loved, of course, over the years." He chuckled lightly, eyes losing their focus. "Platonically. Barbara, Ian." His chuckle turned into a wide grin, and he suddenly sounded Scottish. "Young Jamie, and Zoe. So many. Aye, but I miss him."
Frowning, because she'd assumed Jamie was a girl, she looked at him more closely. Of course he'd traveled with men before. Jack wasn't his first. Hiding a small smile, she wondered if it really had always been platonic, even with Jack. She really didn't know. And she didn't think she wanted to know either, at least not about Jack.
She knew Jack, had traveled with him while with the Doctor, and jealousy wasn't one of her better traits. If the Doctor and Jack had had a relationship while she was with them... well, she just didn't want to think about it. Didn't want to know.
This other man though, Jamie, that was years before she'd met him. Probably. She was choosing to believe that.
"I've loved not-so platonically as well. There was Jo. Sarah Jane. Tegan. Charley." He sighed again and she stared down at him, through the water running over her face, at this man, this alien that she really didn't know at all.
"I," she began, but shook her head when he raised his eyes to her.
Shrugging, she rinsed the remaining conditioner out of her hair, then shut the water off and sat beside him. Reaching behind her, she grabbed a fluffy orange towel and wrapped it around herself. He did the same on his side, but instead of using it on his own drenched body, he patted down her hair, taking his time with it. Grabbing a section and wrapping it in the towel, then squeezing tightly.
"I've loved a lot, Rose, but I've never been as desperate as I am with you." He chuckled and brushed the strands behind her back. "I've a theory about that. I think it's this body. So young. Think I got all the hormones that come with it. And then some. Ohhhhh," he said excitedly, "d'you think I got a double dose? It was a bit easier for you to arouse me than it should've been," he mumbled.
Staring at the wall across from them, choosing to skip over the hormones and arousal bits, she took the towel from him and set it on her lap. "Doctor, that's a nice story and all, and a nice theory to go along with it, but I don't see how these guys--Charlie and Joe--and some women that you've loved are going to help the situation."
He chuckled. "Charley and Jo were women."
"Oh." She shrugged. "Still don't understand how it helps any."
"But don't you see?" he asked, cupping her wet face with his shower-warmed hands, smiling widely.
"Obviously not. Just said so, didn't I?"
Pressing a quick kiss to her lips, he dropped his hands, looking apologetic. "Sorry." But then he shook his head. "But no. That's what I'm talking about. All those years, all those feelings, but it's only with you that I can't stand to be away for more than five minutes."
Sighing, she dropped her eyes to the water drops on the bottom of the tub. "It's been three years, and you survived," she pointed out, ducking her head, pretending to dry her hair, letting a curtain of it slip between them. It had been three years, at least for her, and she'd only just recently been able to say goodbye to him.
Had it been just as hard for him?
"It's... yes, but I lost you once, and I don't ever want to be like that again." When she opened her mouth to reply, he stressed, "I'm afraid to be like that again. I hardly recognized myself sometimes."
Rose stared at him as she wrapped the towel around herself, tucking the end in. She wondered what he'd done, but was too afraid to ask. She didn't think she wanted to know what he'd done in her name, because, frankly, he sometimes terrified her as well. Instead, she whispered, "How long's it been?"
Staring at the shelves of bottles and the peach tile behind them, he widened his eyes a bit, trapped somewhere in the past. "I didn't even realize how bad I-- not until Donna had to stop me from... well, doesn't matter. She told me, after the Racnoss, that I needed someone to stop me, and she was right."
Sliding her hand out from under her towel, she threaded her fingers with his. His startled eyes shot to their clasped hands.
Mouth stretching into some sort of shape that was supposed to be a smile, he tightened his hand on hers. "I didn't listen to her. Not right away. Traveled on my own for quite a while longer." His eyes slid to hers, then away again. "People came and went."
Drawing in a deep breath at the pain on his face and the near crushing grip he had on her hand, she turned to him more fully, and repeated, "How long?"
Running his free hand through his dripping hair, messing it up even worse than it already was, making bits and pieces stick up every which way, he turned toward her as well. "Almost ten years."
Her eyes widened at that, filling with tears that she quickly blinked back, hiding them from him. Or, tried to, rather. He cupped her cheek again, this time with just his one hand, and smoothed his thumb down her wet skin. "And, here I was being all maudlin about three."
"Don't," he told her harshly. "You lost more than I did. This time," he corrected when she opened her mouth to argue that he'd lost his wife and kids, his granddaughter, all of his people. "I'm sorry about Jackie."
Feeling more tears burn her eyes, she blinked them back. "I miss her."
"'Course you do," he agreed fiercely, pulling her into his arms. Once again, she went willingly, knowing she always would.
A sob escaped her, though she tried to hold it back. It'd been two years. Exactly two years ago last Friday. She'd taken the time off, done her ritual for letting the Doctor go, but couldn't do the same for her mum. The Doctor was alive, which was proved by him being here with her right now, holding her while she cried, smoothing his hand down her back.
Saying goodbye to someone still alive, and full of life, was loads easier than letting go of someone who wasn't still out there somewhere.
And the baby.
She hadn't expected the loss of her brother to hit her as hard as it had. Tony. Losing him was completely different. She'd never known him, never got to hold him, or hear his cries. Never saw his face. Never had all the chances she'd wanted. To teach him to tie his shoes.
Or the best way to tell their mum to shut it.
Never got to hold his hand and tell him about the universe.
"It's only been two years," she sniffled, pulling away a little to rub her eyes, hoping she'd managed to wash off all of her makeup. "I wish it'd been ten. Although, to you, that must be like, what? A week to a human? A day?"
Eyes on her face, he shook his head and lifted the edge of the towel to wipe gently under her eyes. "No. The exact opposite with you. That's what I'm trying to tell you. I missed three years of your life, and every second without you felt like an eternity."
Taking the towel from him when she spotted black and green on the edge of it, she wiped hard at the makeup smears on her eyes. "That's sweet," she told him, feeling unworthy of the importance he was placing on her. "And romantic." She pursed her lips up, a smile fighting for purchase. "Or cheesy. I'm not quite sure yet. But I'm just me. Just Rose Tyler. Nothing special. All those other people you loved. All those other-- Sarah Jane. I met her. She's special."
"She is," he agreed, "but I got scared and ran from her. From my feelings." Scratching under his collar, he tossed her a grin. "And, it's incredibly cheesy." The grin slid away, replaced by a solemnity she recognized in him from so many trips, so many planets, so many people who needed his help. "But no less true for it."
"Rose, it's... it's true, and I'm not running. Not anymore." He settled his hands in his lap, looking so much like that lost little boy again that she wanted to hold him to her, reassure him.
But he straightened, watching her earnestly.
"I'm in it for the long haul." When she didn't answer, just looked back at him, he fidgeted, eyes growing wide. "If-- if you want it. Me. If you want me... like this." He gestured around the room, between them, eyes landing on her cleavage, pushed up above the towel. "Uh..." he licked his lips, shifting on the edge of the tub.
Rose's eyes darted down to his lap. To say that she was startled would be an understatement, but she was. They'd just had fantastic sex, showered together--essentially--all of her body had been on display for him this entire time, but a glance at her cleavage got him hard?
When she lifted her eyes back to his face, she found him watching her, and knew he knew that she was aware of his arousal.
"I had no idea, at the time... or while we-- in the bedroom earlier, why I did this. Why I..." he sighed, looking over her shoulder. "I mean I wanted you, yeah, of course I did. Do. But was that really an excuse to trick you? No. And I'm sorry I did, but I realized on the way to the TARDIS that I set all of this up because I was terrified that you'd say no."
He came to a halt suddenly, abruptly, and she waited for more, but he remained silent.
"That I'd say no to sex with you?" she snorted, half in laughter, half at his stupidity. "I love you. Remember? Last words I ever said to you." Standing up, she stepped out of the tub, annoyance and anger brimming in her again. "And all I got back was my name."
Stopping in front of the mirror, still partially fogged over, she swiped at it with a hand towel and then braced her hands on the counter, staring at her reflection. Most of her makeup was off, though there were still a few smears of eyeshadow and a hint of mascara under her right eye.
The Doctor appeared behind her, hands in his pockets, rumpled and completely fucking sexy. "Not to sex. To me. To traveling with me again. I thought," he paused and breathed in deeply. "I thought you might blame me for Jackie. And the baby."
"Stop it," she bit out, eyes dropping from his in the mirror.
She spun around and grabbed him by the lapels of his shirt, noticing that he didn't even blink, didn't look startled at all, which startled her a bit. He was expecting her anger. And her blame? Welcoming it?
"I don't blame you," she told him honestly. "Not anymore."
"Sure about that?" His voice was low, almost taunting, but she didn't take the bait, didn't need to. She really didn't blame him.
"Yes." Releasing his shirt, she backed up a step, bracing herself on the counter behind her. "Did at first, of course. Blamed everyone and every... thing I could think of." Turning back around, she found his eyes in the mirror again. "You were just one more person on a very long list."
"But it is my fault."
Anger swept through her. "Shut it. I've moved past that, and I'd rather not dredge all of it up again if you don't mind." He looked like he wanted to argue with her, but didn't. "Besides," she added, turning on the faucet to dampen the hand towel. "I think you being a manipulative prat is a better subject to discuss."
Wiping at her face, she watched the guilt spread across his. His shoulders drooped a bit, eyes settling on the floor. "It was a bit manipulative. I'm sorry."
Shaking her head, she dropped the cloth to the sink. "You don't get it, do you?" His eyes shot to hers and she turned around to face him. "You've been doing it since we met."
"Have not," he disagreed hotly.
Resting her weight on one hip, she stared at him incredulously. "'Sure, Rose, we can stay and have supper with your mum, but, oh, there's this plasma storm brewing in the Horsehead Nebula--'"
A grin split his lips. "That was a gorgeous storm!"
"That was a manipulative ploy. Hello, time machine! We could've gone anytime. Could do now."
"I didn't want--"
"I know; you didn't do domestics. You didn't want supper with my mum and that was fine, but you manipulated me into choosing between you and her."
He moved toward her, grabbing her arms, holding her still when she tried to pull away. "No, Rose. I didn't want to share you. I wanted you all to myself. No mum, no supper. No... boyfriend! Even later, with Jack. You saw the jealousy. I could hardly stand to have him on board sometimes." Chuckling darkly, he shook her a bit. "You have no idea how many times I almost kicked him off the TARDIS."
She stared at him, feeling like she didn't really know him at all.
"You were mine," he snarled, sounding like a blasted caveman. "I don't. Like. To share."
"Well then," she bit out, nausea rising in her. "I must just make you sick then."
His face went blank, eyes as well, and she was left trying to read him, but couldn't. Turning away with a scoff, disappointed that he wasn't rushing to reassure her, she realized he was more human in some ways than he let on. All those times he'd chastised her for thinking like a human... a twenty-first century one, no less, and it turned out he was no better.
He was just like Mickey, he didn't understand.
"Yeah," she muttered bitterly, but caught her breath when he grabbed her arm to keep her from walking away.
"I'm not disgusted," he told her, but she knew better and kept her eyes on the wall across from her rather than look at him. His hand--roughly wrapped around her arm--loosened and rubbed lightly at her sore skin. "I'm angry. Furious!" Her eyes darted to his quickly, then away again. "That you were forced into this life," he explained.
She chuckled humorlessly, shaking her head at his assumption.
"I wasn't forced into anything, Doctor." Leaning close, she raised her brows at him. "I jumped into it with both feet and my eyes wide open." Watching him struggle with that news, she frowned, surprised to see that it bothered him. "You really are more human-thinking than you think," she said with a tsk.
"No," he denied, lifting his hand to brush lightly against her cheek. "I'm not shocked by what you do, I'm shocked at your attitude toward it. Sex for money is quite acceptable on many planets, during many times. It doesn't shock me. It's a noble profession. Well, it will be, for humans in a few centuries. I'm just..." he smiled suddenly, taking her by surprise.
Confusion settled in her as she watched him beam at her. She hadn't expected that. At all.
"I'm proud of you."
Okay, even more she hadn't expected. "What?"
"You've handled it all so well when it could've been a horrible life for you. And you just... made the best of it. That's so you." His grin widened and a small chuckle left him, eyes beaming at her, leaving her feeling warm, but confused. "Making the best of something that could've been demeaning and degrading--"
"No, that was Torchwood," she said absently, and he lost his smile, making her feel horrible for being the cause.
"Pete told me about... well, no. He just said something about you having concerns about them?"
Snorting bitterly, she crossed her arms over her chest. "You could say that." But she didn't want to talk about Torchwood now. Didn't want to think about anything except the man in front of her, and possibly, the life he was bringing with him. The one that was stretching out before her.
A small smile quirked up her lips. "You're proud of me for being a call girl?"
His own lips turned up in response, and she felt that warmth return. "I'm proud of the way you've handled it. This life, yourself, the situation. All of it." The smile faded, taking her own with it. "But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't jealous." Eyes centering on hers, he stressed, "Extremely jealous."
He moved closer, lifting his hand to the back of her neck. She drew in a breath. Just that small touch and she wanted to melt into him. Her body shifted a little closer, eyes dropping to his mouth. His lips.
"And turned on," he said gutturally, mouth pressing to hers, taking her by surprise with the hard, desperate kiss. Not giving her time to do more than gasp in surprise and only just begin to respond before his body was hard against hers, the cool, scratchy feel of his damp suit pressed tight against her bare arms and legs.
She moaned at the feel of his cock, hardening as it pushed into her stomach.
And then he was gone.
No, not completely gone, she realized, just his mouth. The rest of him was still solidly against her. "This okay?" he panted, breathing loudly, harshly, and from so little. God, that turned her on.
Instead of answering with words, she threaded her hands through his damp hair and pulled his mouth back to hers. "You made me come twice," she told him between desperate kisses. "And that was just from me imagining you were... you." Fists grabbing handfuls of his shirt, she pushed him back. "Let's see what the real you can do."
His hands fumbled with the towel, pulling hard on it, loosening the tucked in edge, then yanking it from her as they resumed their frantic kissing. Cool air and wet Doctor hit her skin, and though she was enjoying it immensely, her rational side took over, forcing her to pull away from him, to stop kissing him, though she wanted to drown in his kisses and shag his brains out.
Startled at the abrupt halt, he opened his eyes, questioning her silently.
Opening her mouth to respond, she realized she didn't have an answer for him. Her body was aching, throbbing for him while her mind was telling her to be cautious, to go slower. To stop this before they both ended up regretting it. "I'm sorry," was all she could say.
She licked her lips and stepped back, groaning when his eyes darted to her mouth. Bending to pick up her towel, she forced herself to be strong and not just give in because the Doctor was, well, the Doctor.
And very aroused.
Wrapping the towel around herself, she took another step away from him, smacking her lower back against the edge of the counter. "I just... I need some time, yeah?" Ignoring the pain shooting through her heart at the way the Doctor's face went blank again, she focused instead on the sharp pain in her back. "I can't just-- I mean we already had sex, but... this is different. I can't just forget everything if y-- you do want me to go with you, don't you?"
"How can you even doubt it?" he rushed to assure her, taking her face in his hands, and then seeming to realize what he was doing. "Sorry." He dropped his hands to his sides. "We can even stay in this universe for a bit if you want." He drew back, looking around as if he expected to suddenly see all the differences from their universe. Hands shoved into his pockets, he grinned manically. "I'd really like to pop around to some of my favorite planets, see what's different."
She couldn't help but grin back at the excitement on his face and in his voice. "There are quite a few differences here on Earth. Aside from the obvious of course." Her own smile grew at the infectiousness of his. "We could, I don't know... pop by somewhere now. For one quick trip. Be back before anyone misses me?"
Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he nodded, smile turning hopeful. "We could."
Once inside the TARDIS, with it humming and vibrating throughout her body, Rose familiarized herself with the ship again, feeling like she was home for the first time in years.
Standing in her old room, she ran her eyes over everything. All of it was there still. Her makeup, her clothes, her bed--still messy from the last time she'd got out of it--her pictures, the different things she'd collected from all over the universe. It was all so new to her again, and yet so very familiar.
There, in her top drawer, were her knickers and bras. Below that were t-shirts and jeans. She drew a blank on what was in the drawer below that. Back in her flat it was socks and track pants; comfortable clothes.
Running her hand along the wall beside the bed, she bit her lip, feeling the TARDIS hum in response. There was a noise from the hall, and she tossed a glance over her shoulder.
"Room service," the Doctor said cheerily, bustling into the room, looking more like himself again. Shirt, done all the way up. Tie knotted perfectly. Trousers fastened. Even shoes. Heading to her bed with a tray of food in his hands, he darted his eyes to her, awkward smile on his lips.
She'd been afraid this would happen.
Nervousness settled in her stomach as he set the tray down and straightened back up, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Nothing special, I'm afraid, just beans on toast."
Breathing out, she pleaded, "Say that again." It'd been years since someone other than her had called it that and knew... knew what it was and that it was supposed to be like that. Mickey... her mum, they were both gone now, but even before that, they'd conformed, called it beans on bread just like everyone else.
The Doctor opened his mouth, shut it, then opened it again and repeated his words. "Just... beans on toast?"
Blinking rapidly, feeling a sense of contentment go through her, she chuckled, giving him a watery smile. "Can you believe they think I'm the weird one here when I call it that?" Toeing off her trainers, she climbed onto the bed, sitting cross-legged before the tray. "I mean, beans on bread? It's a bit disgusting really."
"Ah." Rocking back and forth a bit, he nodded and pulled at his ear, looking like he wanted to flee from her room, from her, and she hated it.
This was the Doctor. He was... her best mate, her lover now, the man she was in love with. They shouldn't be uncomfortable with each other.
Glancing around, much the same as she had, he sighed softly. "Kept it all the same. Just... moved it around a bit, out of the way, so no one would come in accidentally, or while wandering." Turning back to her, he smirked. "Bit nosey, humans."
Lifting the cover off the tray, she looked over at him. Just beans on toast? There was bacon and tea and rolls and eggs... bananas? Snickering, seeing his sidelong glances at her, she set the tray cover down. "Sit with me?"
As if he could resist, she thought. Always had to have a bit of this and a little of that when they ate. Or when she ate. He'd stolen off her plate all the time back when she was traveling with him, and bananas with beans on toast was one of his odd combinations of foods. Not hers.
"And, you know," she said, munching thoughtfully on a slice of bacon, "if you told us nosey humans that you have giant man-eating plants just... lying around, we might be less inclined to wander about."
Scoffing loudly, he eyed her. "You? Not wander off? I think it's safe to say that's one of the few things I can still label impossible."
"And you love it." She smirked at him, watching as he untied and pulled off his Chucks. Her smirk faded when he lifted his gaze to her, crawling his way to the middle of her bed, eyes hungry and nowhere near the food.
"I do," he agreed, sitting across from her with the tray between them.
She swallowed thickly, seeing a bit of what she'd missed with the blindfold on.
Setting the bacon back on her plate, she wiped her hands on a napkin and sat silently as he leaned forward to press a kiss to her lips, then settled back, licking his own. Small smile on his lips, he grabbed a roll and tore a chunk off, popping it into his mouth.
There was an urge growing inside her. To toss the tray aside, climb onto his lap and kiss him for hours and hours.
And yet another urge to fuck him hard and often, in so many different ways. To see his face when he came, to hear his voice--his own voice--as he encouraged her to come, as he grunted above her, as he told her all the dirty little things he was going to do to her. To just throw the tray from the bed, tear his trousers open, and suck him off until he was incoherent with need.
Grabbing her teacup with shaking hands, she dropped her eyes to his lap.
There wasn't enough light for her to see if he was aroused with all the brown material encasing him, and that frustrated her. She was wet and throbbing already, stomach fluttering, and more aroused than she'd been in years, aside from earlier. Shifting on the bed, she nearly burnt her mouth on the hot tea. "Ow," she mumbled, holding a finger to her singed lip.
"I want you," he told her casually, and though his voice was bordering on assuring, he sounded as if he were telling her the sky was blue. His eyes never left his own cup of tea as he lifted it to his lips and sipped.
She shrugged and opened her mouth, trying to dismiss his words, but all that came out was, "Okay." Wanting to smack herself for the simple remark, she set her cup down.
"I'm actually thinking of throwing the tray to the floor, slipping your jeans off and tasting you again, because you taste better than any food I've ever had, and I don't think I'll ever not want to do that. That okay?" He raised his eyes to hers, setting his cup down on the tray, across from hers.
"I-- yes," she gasped, wanting him to do that, wanting to do it to him. God. This... would they ever get any actual traveling done anymore? He grabbed the edge of the tray and she slapped her hand over his. "Hang on!"
Blinking a few times, he frowned.
Taking a deep breath, she settled her hands back in her lap. "I'm coming with you--"
He smirked and then grinned. "I hope so."
Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. "No, I mean-- well, yeah, that too eventually, but. I'm traveling with you, and going back to our universe with you, told you forever and I still mean it, but what you did tonight was not okay."
His smile slipped away.
"You manipulated me again."
Eyes widening, he stressed his words carefully, earnestly. "I don't manip--"
"But you do. All the time." Exasperation filled her at his inability to see what he did to her, to others, every day. "Your word may be law, Doctor, but I won't stay with you if you keep doing it."
There was a bit of panic on his face, and she knew exactly how he felt, because she'd just got him back, and the thought of leaving him again because he couldn't control his manipulative side actually hurt her heart. Her chest felt tight, heavy, her stomach, tied in knots. But she would do it. Staying with him like that wasn't an option.
Sighing, he shoved his hands through his hair, making a sexy mess of it. "All right, maybe I manipulated you that one time, with the plasma storm, but--"
"You tricked me into thinking you had a plan on Satellite 5 and sent me home, giving me no choice in the matter." Hands curling into fists, she lifted narrowed eyes to him. "That's manipulation."
Disbelief was on his face and in his voice. "I did it to save your life!" Eyes hardening, he stared back, unflinching. "And I'd do it again, every time. Will do it again. I won't risk you."
"But it's not your decision to make," she said hotly, wondering why he had such a hard time understanding that. "It's mine. If I wanna die saving a bunch of bloody idiots, I'll do it. If I wanna run like a coward, it's my choice. If I give my life for yours, it's up to me. Not. You."
"I don't see it that way, Rose. I'll survive." Mouth tightening, jaw clenching, he told her, "I always survive. But you won't. You're human; you don't regenerate. I won't lose you again."
"If you don't stop making decisions for me, you will." No matter how much it hurt. No matter how much she wanted to stay with him forever. No matter how wounded he looked right now. Ducking her head from the pain on his face, she fiddled with the edge of the tray. "I love you, Doctor, but I already have a father, and I don't like him very much."
He closed his eyes, running his tongue behind his teeth, moving his jaw back and forth, and she was reminded that she'd hit him. That should've told him something, should've clued him in to how she felt. Opening his eyes, he focused, not on her, but on the wall to his left and nodded tightly. "Okay." Eyes back on hers, he sighed. "I'll try."
Relief swept through her. She didn't expect it to be easy, or for him to stop right away, but that he was willing to try, willing to do as she asked, was enough for now. "How's your jaw?"
"Ruggedly handsome," he answered immediately, grinning briefly before fingering it tenderly. "Just grazed me." Reaching across to take her hand, he lifted it up, examining her knuckles, which were a bit sore, but nothing she couldn't handle. "Is this a new thing?" His eyes found hers. "You always gonna hit me when we disagree?"
She grinned back, feeling lighter than she had all night, all her nervousness and anger receding, but there was still a note of warning in her voice. "Manipulate me again and see." Rubbing her thumb along the side of his little finger, she popped a piece of bacon into her mouth. "Just out of curiosity; what'd you come to me like this for? Why not just land in my flat, or on the street?"
His face went blank and she swallowed thickly, wishing she hadn't asked. "Does it matter?"
"From your response, I'd say yes."
He rubbed his forehead. "To see if you were happy with your life. Without you knowing who I was." Sighing, smoothing his thumb over her knuckles, he released her hand and sat back. "And, no, I wouldn't have left without telling you who I was, even if you were blissfully married with loads of kids chirping at your heels."
Lips quirking up, she bit her thumbnail. "Lovely picture you've painted. That how you imagined me here?"
Shrugging, lips lifting in return, he studied her. "Might've. With some nameless bloke who always looked remarkably like me."
Stomach flipping again, she considered shoving the tray aside and snogging him to within an inch of his life, then again to resuscitate him. "You're a romantic, you are."
"'Course I am. Played matchmaker with your mum, and she's not the first either. Is it so bad that I want my two in the morning as well?"
She tilted her head to the side, face scrunched up in confusion. "Your what?"
Small smile on his lips, he shook his head. "Nothing. Doesn't matter." Brushing his hands off, he placed them on his knees and looked ready to get up. "Ready to go then? One trip, anywhere, then back here for your things."
"And to say goodbye to Mickey."
His brows rose in surprise. "Thought he was out of your life."
"No. He's just away, living his own." Trying to forget that he knew what she did for a living. Had done, she supposed. She was no longer a call girl, no longer selling her body for money. Mickey'd never been comfortable with knowing, and on one rather memorable occasion, he'd told her quite frankly how he felt about it.
Six months went by before she'd put aside her anger and called him.
"Got his number here in my phone--" he pulled a mobile from his pocket and a small rectangle of paper fluttered to the bed. "Ah," he crowed, grinning, holding the card out to her across the tray. "Your friend--who is quite cheeky--the one who left the hotel room as I arrived? She has informed me that you and her are both quite willing to share if I'm interested."
Scrunching her face up, she adjusted her ponytail. "Oi, told her not to..." sighing, she made a quick grab for the card, but it slipped to the tray between their cups. "She's new-- well, not really, she just hasn't got a good grasp on how to act with clients sometimes." Reaching down to grab the card, she knocked her cup over and quickly righted it before too much spilt, but the card was already soaked.
Picking it up, she stared at it. Oh.
"I should tell her I'm a one-woman man. And you're a-- a-- something wrong?"
She glanced up from the card, blinking at him. "I think we need to take a trip."
Curious eyes lighted on the card, now stained with tea. It was familiar to her, but meant nothing to him. "Anywhere in particular?"
Smiling widely, she set the card on her nightstand and licked her lips. "It can wait. We have all the time in the universe. Two of 'em even."
"Very true," he agreed, eyeing the tray between them with an intensity on his face that she hadn't seen before. "Finished?"
Nodding, smile growing, she felt anticipation settle in her and fisted her fingers to keep from reaching out and hauling him to her. But she needn't have worried. He shoved the tray, sending it flying off the bed with a clatter, food and tea spilling every which way, but neither of them paid it any mind.
He dove at her at the same time as she jumped for him, and they met in the middle, lips pressing together in a fierce kiss that took her breath away and left her with pleasant tumbles in her stomach. She fell backward, the Doctor landing on her as they tore at each other's clothes, hands everywhere. His palm slid down to cup her breast, his other hand holding her head still for his kiss.
Fingers fumbling at his button and zip, she heard him grunt in pleasure as she wrapped her hand around his hard cock.
"Don't wanna wait any longer," she breathed out, drawing back to pull her shirt free, then dropped her hands to her waistband, yanking her jeans open. His hand immediately slid down, under the band of her knickers, straight to her wet heat. "Been ready all night." Falling backward, with him landing over her, she closed her eyes, then popped them open again.
She didn't want to miss one single expression this time.