Couples Therapy: Forgetfulness
Title: Couples Therapy: Forgetfulness
Rating: Teen for some heavy snogging and implied off-camera secksin'
Pairing: Ten/Rose
Genre: Cracky fluffy romance with an extra dash of light smut
Spoilers: Goes AU after Army of Ghosts
Disclaimer: I don't make any money off of these characters, I don't own them, but the auction this fic was written for raised $4000!!!
Summary: Even the most passionate and harmonious of human marriages have a natural shelf life reckoned in decades. There's a reason that the most poignant part of any love story is the ending. A successful partnership lasting centuries, while perhaps not unheard-of among some species, differs in several key ways from the human unions that Rose Tyler had grown up observing. Sometimes a little couples therapy is required.
A/N: My first crack at a truly AU fic. Rose Tyler was granted a greatly prolonged life through the Bad Wolf, Doomsday never happened, and Rose and the Doctor have been travelling together for quite some time indeed now. Every now and then, they need to spice things up a bit.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Rose eyed the small bottle of pinkish liquid sitting between them at the TARDIS kitchen table warily. "I mean, is it safe?"
"I think it sounds like a right laugh, don't you? It's just an hour or two, and I've already double-checked the chemical analysis. It's completely safe. Just a bit of fun, eh?" The Doctor gave her a cheeky wink, his hand hovering over the bottle.
"Oh, go on then," Rose said, and he poured out two little draughts, sliding one over to her. "How long do we have until...?"
"Enough time to get where we're going. Fifteen minutes? Twenty?" He tossed the little glass back in one gulp and Rose followed suit.
It was sickly sweet, almost cough-syrup-like, and she made a face. Looking at one another they couldn't help but break in to spontaneous laughter at the madness of what they were about to do.
"Right, then," the Doctor said, trying to calm himself again and standing from the table. "We're wasting time. It wouldn't do to still be in here when it kicks in. I'd probably toss you out and lock the door, you cat-burgling little minx!"
She smacked him playfully on the arm. "Oi, this is my home too! I'd probably just wonder when it was that I'd gotten this gorgeous new room-mate! Has a bit to be desired in the housekeeping department, though."
When they entered the pub, Rose was beginning to feel a bit funny, and from the look on the Doctor's face, it seemed that he was too. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, a warm feeling that started in the pit of her stomach and worked its way up her spine, but she was glad they'd chosen 21st Century Earth for this adventure, as she wasn't sure she could deal with aliens and all of this other weirdness simultaneously. Being in Edinburgh rather than London was quite exotic enough.
The Doctor had remembered a pub that was laid out like a rabbit warren, built very nearly right in to the rock of the extinct volcano that the entire Old Town perched upon. He muttered something about the extreme importance of a nice peaty single malt to his eternal happiness as they wandered hand-in-hand through the narrow closes, but both had stopped talking entirely by the time they negotiated the narrow stairwell leading to the golden-lit great room of the Leith Arms.
Sitting next to one another at the bar, the Doctor ordered himself the longed-for Scotch, but failed to prompt Rose for her choice. When she reflexively excused herself to go to the ladies, he barely turned his head at the sound of her voice, giving her just the briefest of looks, which contained not the slightest bit of recognition.
The human, and indeed to an even greater extent the Time Lord, mind is a fascinating and wondrous thing. As Rose made her way to the restroom, she utterly forgot all social contacts that she'd made for the past several hundred years. One would think that this would be a frightening and disconcerting experience, but one would be wrong. Under the influence of the sticky pink draught, her brain gamely connected the dots between the missing information and then continued about its business. She forgot who she'd come to Edinburgh with, but remained untroubled by the fact that here she was.
She examined herself idly in the mirror, smoothed her hair down with a splash of water and double-checked that there was no lipstick on her teeth. She'd never really fancied Scottish men before, but there was a first time for everything.
Back in the great room, the Doctor stared contentedly in to the fireplace, sipping his Scotch and justifying his presence here by the fact that when a man with a time and space ship has a hankering for a dram, he can bloody well go get one. Two, if he'd remembered to sonic up a cashpoint before popping in. He took his drink over to an empty wing-back chair facing the hearth and savoured the perfection of the moment. Warm pub, fine early spring evening, the dulcet hum of Scottish brogues all around him. It all made him feel fabulously manly and expansive.
Rose Tyler took a long minute of staring at the dark wood of the bar and the crowded glass-doored cabinets behind it before deciding what she wanted to drink. A pint sounded nice, but so ordinary. For some reason, this did not feel to her like an ordinary pint sort of evening. She ordered a Drambuie neat, and giggled to herself at the overly large snifter it came to her in. A couple of fingers of the Highland's finest cordial really demanded to be enjoyed by the fire and she drifted towards the grouping of chairs surrounding it.
There was a man already there, lost in a crystal glass of Scotch, feet propped up on a pouffe. She didn't know whether to ask him if it was all right if she joined him, or to just leave him to his reverie. As she hesitated, however, he looked up to her with shockingly enormous brown eyes, gave a little lopsided smile and gestured to the other chair.
"Please," he said, "I insist."
His accent was Scots, but not overly broad. Rose felt a little bit plain all of a sudden, with her very standard inflection of the Home Counties.
"Ta."
The leather chair made some unattractive squeaking and creaking noises as she settled in, and the man pushed the pouffe over her way with his feet so that they could share.
"Ta again," she said.
"Whenever I hear anyone accusing some poor group of chaps of being a bunch of big poofs, I always imagine a big pile of these instead," he said, gesturing to the ottoman. "Which I suppose is probably not what is actually meant."
Rose had to laugh at his complete non sequitur, and it came out as a rather unladylike "Ha!"
They sat in silence for a few minutes, each contentedly enjoying the charming way that the Scots have with alcoholic beverages. There was a match on in some other room of the pub, producing periodic whoops and shouts, but they sounded quite far away.
"I'm the Doctor, by the way," he said at length and leaned forward to proffer a long-fingered hand.
"Rose," she said, making note of his firm handshake. "Rose Tyler."
"Cheers," he said, and raised his glass before draining it and looking over his shoulder towards the bar. "Lovely."
Rose took the opportunity when he was turned away to get a proper look. What's a trip north without a little fling, after all? She found she could quite fancy this bloke, all legs and arms and rather large feet stuck in to canvass trainers. The brown suit he wore was quite mod, and his hair was teetering right on that dicey line between intentional bed head and actual bed head.
When the Doctor turned back around, he caught this Rose Tyler giving him a bit of a look-see and tried not to look too smug about it. It was the accent, he was sure. Human women love an accent and though there weren't many he could put on convincingly, Scots was one he had a talent for. When she'd come over to sit down, there was just something about her that made him feel like he should give it a go. She was beautiful, but the universe was full of beautiful women of all descriptions. No, it was her laughing eyes--honey-brown, warm and truly open--that made him take notice. He had meant to put out the prickly Time Lord "Do Not Disturb" sign if anyone approached his perfect little moment of solitary enjoyment, but just one look in to those eyes and he changed his mind quite completely.
The bar keeper came over with another Scotch and before he left, the Doctor turned to her again. "Can I buy you a drink?"
Rose looked down in to her own half-full snifter and shook her head regretfully. She wanted to accept, as she had a feeling that this was more of a mating ritual than an actual practical offer for refreshment, but the timing was off. "I'm afraid I've still got plenty. Maybe when I'm done this one, yeah?"
The Doctor nodded and the bar keeper went back to his post. "How silly of me, I didn't even look."
Rose felt a bit of panic. Had she looked scornful when refusing his offer? She'd consciously tried not to, though trying not to look a certain way has been the downfall of many. "No, it's all right. I just don't usually drink liquor. I'm really more of a pint and plate of chips girl."
"Oh, aye?" he said absently, lost again in his drink.
She was having a hard time getting a read on him. He seemed interested in her for a minute, but then the next he was acting as if he was sitting there alone again. Perhaps his comment about poofs and pouffes had been a hint, and at that thought Rose felt like she wanted to melt in to the floor. Now that she looked at him again--the smart suit, the hair product, the manicured finger nails--it all made sense.
She sighed, and in an attempt to drown her embarrassment, took a sip of her drink that was more like a gulp and found herself nearly pitching over on to the floor choking and spluttering. The Doctor immediately jumped up, balanced his drink on the mantelpiece and rushed to her side. He took the snifter from her and set it next to his glass, then strode over to the bar, reappearing again a moment later with a glass of water.
"Steady on!" he said, handing it to her and helping her sit up again. "You weren't joking when you said you don't normally drink liquor!"
She waved him away and took a few sips of the water. Her eyes were watering, her mascara probably running, her cheeks flushed. Good thing he's gay, she thought, or that really would have been mortifying!
"You all right, Rose Tyler?"
She nodded. "Yeah. Just went down the wrong pipe I guess." She laughed lamely.
"I think you had better switch to that pint, if you want to make it out of here alive."
She took another minute to compose herself. "I'm a terrible lightweight. Two drinks and I'm anybody's."
Her laugh was bright and pure and the Doctor felt both of his hearts contract a little.
"Oh aye," he said again, sounding extremely thoughtful.
The bar keeper reappeared, this time bearing a steaming plate of chips and a pint of bitter. Rose looked between the man standing there handing her these items and the man sitting across from her with dimples popping out on both cheeks in his effort to not smirk. A poof or not, this one really is full of himself, she thought, but she also questioned her resolve to make him actually work for it should it come to that.
"I took the liberty," he said, taking the plate of chips and setting it down on the ottoman. The bar keeper handed the beer to Rose who took a long foamy gulp gratefully.
The Doctor leaned over and took a chip daintily in his fingers. "I do love a good chip," he said, blowing on it.
Their conversation over the food was remarkable only in so far as it contained absolutely no real information whatsoever about either of them. They each got the impression from the other that these details were not terribly important to their assessment of what they in fact wanted to do with one another. Rose had quite reversed her opinion of his sexual orientation, as his bright eyes became progressively more heavily lidded, and she caught him once or twice staring directly at her mouth as she spoke. At those moments, she casually paused to lick her lips before continuing. She thought at one point she heard him squeak in response, but couldn't be sure.
When he came back from a trip to the lavatory, he didn't sit down again, but rather walked over to the bar and fumbled about in his pockets for quite some time, producing one pound coin after another individually, and laying them out on the bar. It was like he'd never handled money before, and Rose watched with rapt amusement as the bar keeper slid back about five extra coins, shaking his head.
If he had been looking flustered at the bar, it didn't show as he turned to face her again and quite suggestively raised a single eyebrow. Rose felt something low in her belly do a somersault. Without even waiting to see if she had responded in the affirmative, he strolled over to the coat rack, where he located a long brown greatcoat that really was, in every conceivable way, a great coat. When he put it on, Rose took a moment to appreciate the fine tailoring that made the absolute most of his slim, lithe torso.
"That's quite a statement," she said as they approached the way out.
"The coat?" he asked, helping her up the steep stone stairs to the street. "Well, one really must, mustn't one? You see a coat like this, you sort of have to have it."
She nodded.
"And I'm that sort of man," he continued. "I see something beautiful, I take the time to appreciate it. A lot of time, if that's what it takes."
Rose almost fell off her low heels at this shocking bit of innuendo from a man she'd just met not even an hour before.
There was a fairly serious chill in the air, and they would have been able to see their breath had they not already been surrounded by a good deal of rather atmospheric fog. Rose had a jumper on, but shivered audibly as they ducked down a narrow close. The Doctor stopped walking and turned to her.
"I'm sorry, my manners are appalling." He started to shuck his coat, but she held out her hand and stopped him.
"No, that's all right. Maybe if you could just, you know...a bit of a warm-up?" She looked up and down the close to see that they were quite alone.
The Doctor raised his eyebrows, but opened his coat and beckoned her to him. Rose was surprised to find that he wasn't warm at all, though his heavy coat did take some of the chill off as he enfolded her in his arms. The man had no body fat on him at all, and Rose figured it probably stood to reason that he'd likewise have a hard time staying warm. Hence the importance of such fantastic outerwear.
Quite to his surprise, the Doctor found his body responding to the proximity of this human girl immediately. He wasn't sure if he would have so quickly and closely embraced her if he'd known he'd be betrayed in this way, but there was to be no unringing of that bell now. Rose snuggled up against his chest and brought her arms around his waist, brushing lightly against his backside. Another spasm of unhidden desire shot through him and this time Rose was not able to ignore it. She looked up in to his face with a knowing twinkle in her eye.
Whatever she was going to say, it was sure to be something cheeky and embarrassing, and he pre-empted any commentary by bending down and hovering his lips over hers, inviting her to close that last millimetre. For Rose, there was no question. The man was attractive, yes, but more than that, he seemed truly kind, a total gentleman, right down to letting her take the initiative in starting something that he quite clearly was eager to finish.
When their lips met, they moved to fit together perfectly without any of the usual first-kiss fumbling and tooth-clashing and nose-smashing. It was like the kiss that you dream about when you're an eleven year old girl drawing hearts around the name of the boy you fancy. She made a little sound of astonishment against his mouth, and he took the cue to deepen their embrace and take her bottom lip, sucking and darting his tongue against it. She relaxed in to him completely and grasped his hips in her hands.
If this kind of public rutting was not in her usual nature, she didn't take the time to think about it. She pulled his hips to hers and felt the straining of his ardour. He made a low sound deep in his chest and wrapped his arms tight around her. In a smooth motion, he turned so that she was against a cold stone wall and fully covered by the silhouette of his coat, should any prying eyes peer down the close looking for the source of the by-now quite obvious sounds of snogging.
Rose stood on tip-toe to better reach him, tilting her chin up and tempting him to put his lips there, and there, and also there. His hands traced complicated patterns first over her jumper and then began to fumble underneath, running his thumbs across the satin of her bra. She realised suddenly that she was trembling, and not due to the cold. The thrill of this encounter, of meeting a man who seemed so perfect, who so clearly also hungered after her, who's body fit so naturally in to the curves and valleys of her own, it sent palpable anticipation to every nerve ending, and in reply they all hummed and quivered with delight.
The Doctor felt her tremble beneath his hands, like one feels when one holds a soap bubble, such an impossible little thing, just waiting for it to pop. That this girl with the laughing eyes seemed to be in such accord with him, he couldn't get enough of it. This would be much more than just a quick trip to a planet where the inhabitants were biologically compatible. She made hundreds of minuscule little movements against him as she sought any bit of skin that she could, and he began to wonder about the hospitality options of this little alleyway in Old Town.
He pressed up against her, and the wall behind would have been uncomfortable if she'd been paying attention to it. As it was, the feel of how badly he desired her was driving her to distraction, and his name was on her lips as he sucked and nibbled at the taught skin of her neck.
"Rose," he whispered in to her ear before taking a little nip of her earlobe.
"Doctor," she said again, this time more questioning.
"Mm?"
"Doctor, is that the TARDIS down there?" They paused in their activity long enough for her to gesture to the other end of the close.
"Yes, I think it is." His words were a suggestive purr.
"I don't fancy getting cited for indecent exposure," she said, placing emphasis on "indecent."
He backed away from her, licking his lips and smoothing out his tie. She looked him up and down hungrily before pushing off from the wall and joining him in a quick jog to the end of the close where indeed the once again familiar blue box lay in wait. She fumbled with her key, her hands still trembling with anticipation and desire. Behind her the Doctor rocked back and forth on his heels impatiently.
The sound of the key entering the lock was fraught with erotic overtones but Rose stopped short of opening the door all the way, turning instead to give the Doctor a pointed look.
"What's with the accent? You're not Scottish."
"I'm not English either, you know. Besides, lots of planets have a.... Never mind."
It had been quite some time since they'd made love in the console room, and Rose was rather looking forward to a trip down memory lane. She opened the door wider, and, taking hold of the Doctor's tie, hauled him roughly through the aperture in to the soft orange glow of the TARDIS.
Rating: Teen for some heavy snogging and implied off-camera secksin'
Pairing: Ten/Rose
Genre: Cracky fluffy romance with an extra dash of light smut
Spoilers: Goes AU after Army of Ghosts
Disclaimer: I don't make any money off of these characters, I don't own them, but the auction this fic was written for raised $4000!!!
Summary: Even the most passionate and harmonious of human marriages have a natural shelf life reckoned in decades. There's a reason that the most poignant part of any love story is the ending. A successful partnership lasting centuries, while perhaps not unheard-of among some species, differs in several key ways from the human unions that Rose Tyler had grown up observing. Sometimes a little couples therapy is required.
A/N: My first crack at a truly AU fic. Rose Tyler was granted a greatly prolonged life through the Bad Wolf, Doomsday never happened, and Rose and the Doctor have been travelling together for quite some time indeed now. Every now and then, they need to spice things up a bit.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Rose eyed the small bottle of pinkish liquid sitting between them at the TARDIS kitchen table warily. "I mean, is it safe?"
"I think it sounds like a right laugh, don't you? It's just an hour or two, and I've already double-checked the chemical analysis. It's completely safe. Just a bit of fun, eh?" The Doctor gave her a cheeky wink, his hand hovering over the bottle.
"Oh, go on then," Rose said, and he poured out two little draughts, sliding one over to her. "How long do we have until...?"
"Enough time to get where we're going. Fifteen minutes? Twenty?" He tossed the little glass back in one gulp and Rose followed suit.
It was sickly sweet, almost cough-syrup-like, and she made a face. Looking at one another they couldn't help but break in to spontaneous laughter at the madness of what they were about to do.
"Right, then," the Doctor said, trying to calm himself again and standing from the table. "We're wasting time. It wouldn't do to still be in here when it kicks in. I'd probably toss you out and lock the door, you cat-burgling little minx!"
She smacked him playfully on the arm. "Oi, this is my home too! I'd probably just wonder when it was that I'd gotten this gorgeous new room-mate! Has a bit to be desired in the housekeeping department, though."
When they entered the pub, Rose was beginning to feel a bit funny, and from the look on the Doctor's face, it seemed that he was too. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, a warm feeling that started in the pit of her stomach and worked its way up her spine, but she was glad they'd chosen 21st Century Earth for this adventure, as she wasn't sure she could deal with aliens and all of this other weirdness simultaneously. Being in Edinburgh rather than London was quite exotic enough.
The Doctor had remembered a pub that was laid out like a rabbit warren, built very nearly right in to the rock of the extinct volcano that the entire Old Town perched upon. He muttered something about the extreme importance of a nice peaty single malt to his eternal happiness as they wandered hand-in-hand through the narrow closes, but both had stopped talking entirely by the time they negotiated the narrow stairwell leading to the golden-lit great room of the Leith Arms.
Sitting next to one another at the bar, the Doctor ordered himself the longed-for Scotch, but failed to prompt Rose for her choice. When she reflexively excused herself to go to the ladies, he barely turned his head at the sound of her voice, giving her just the briefest of looks, which contained not the slightest bit of recognition.
The human, and indeed to an even greater extent the Time Lord, mind is a fascinating and wondrous thing. As Rose made her way to the restroom, she utterly forgot all social contacts that she'd made for the past several hundred years. One would think that this would be a frightening and disconcerting experience, but one would be wrong. Under the influence of the sticky pink draught, her brain gamely connected the dots between the missing information and then continued about its business. She forgot who she'd come to Edinburgh with, but remained untroubled by the fact that here she was.
She examined herself idly in the mirror, smoothed her hair down with a splash of water and double-checked that there was no lipstick on her teeth. She'd never really fancied Scottish men before, but there was a first time for everything.
Back in the great room, the Doctor stared contentedly in to the fireplace, sipping his Scotch and justifying his presence here by the fact that when a man with a time and space ship has a hankering for a dram, he can bloody well go get one. Two, if he'd remembered to sonic up a cashpoint before popping in. He took his drink over to an empty wing-back chair facing the hearth and savoured the perfection of the moment. Warm pub, fine early spring evening, the dulcet hum of Scottish brogues all around him. It all made him feel fabulously manly and expansive.
Rose Tyler took a long minute of staring at the dark wood of the bar and the crowded glass-doored cabinets behind it before deciding what she wanted to drink. A pint sounded nice, but so ordinary. For some reason, this did not feel to her like an ordinary pint sort of evening. She ordered a Drambuie neat, and giggled to herself at the overly large snifter it came to her in. A couple of fingers of the Highland's finest cordial really demanded to be enjoyed by the fire and she drifted towards the grouping of chairs surrounding it.
There was a man already there, lost in a crystal glass of Scotch, feet propped up on a pouffe. She didn't know whether to ask him if it was all right if she joined him, or to just leave him to his reverie. As she hesitated, however, he looked up to her with shockingly enormous brown eyes, gave a little lopsided smile and gestured to the other chair.
"Please," he said, "I insist."
His accent was Scots, but not overly broad. Rose felt a little bit plain all of a sudden, with her very standard inflection of the Home Counties.
"Ta."
The leather chair made some unattractive squeaking and creaking noises as she settled in, and the man pushed the pouffe over her way with his feet so that they could share.
"Ta again," she said.
"Whenever I hear anyone accusing some poor group of chaps of being a bunch of big poofs, I always imagine a big pile of these instead," he said, gesturing to the ottoman. "Which I suppose is probably not what is actually meant."
Rose had to laugh at his complete non sequitur, and it came out as a rather unladylike "Ha!"
They sat in silence for a few minutes, each contentedly enjoying the charming way that the Scots have with alcoholic beverages. There was a match on in some other room of the pub, producing periodic whoops and shouts, but they sounded quite far away.
"I'm the Doctor, by the way," he said at length and leaned forward to proffer a long-fingered hand.
"Rose," she said, making note of his firm handshake. "Rose Tyler."
"Cheers," he said, and raised his glass before draining it and looking over his shoulder towards the bar. "Lovely."
Rose took the opportunity when he was turned away to get a proper look. What's a trip north without a little fling, after all? She found she could quite fancy this bloke, all legs and arms and rather large feet stuck in to canvass trainers. The brown suit he wore was quite mod, and his hair was teetering right on that dicey line between intentional bed head and actual bed head.
When the Doctor turned back around, he caught this Rose Tyler giving him a bit of a look-see and tried not to look too smug about it. It was the accent, he was sure. Human women love an accent and though there weren't many he could put on convincingly, Scots was one he had a talent for. When she'd come over to sit down, there was just something about her that made him feel like he should give it a go. She was beautiful, but the universe was full of beautiful women of all descriptions. No, it was her laughing eyes--honey-brown, warm and truly open--that made him take notice. He had meant to put out the prickly Time Lord "Do Not Disturb" sign if anyone approached his perfect little moment of solitary enjoyment, but just one look in to those eyes and he changed his mind quite completely.
The bar keeper came over with another Scotch and before he left, the Doctor turned to her again. "Can I buy you a drink?"
Rose looked down in to her own half-full snifter and shook her head regretfully. She wanted to accept, as she had a feeling that this was more of a mating ritual than an actual practical offer for refreshment, but the timing was off. "I'm afraid I've still got plenty. Maybe when I'm done this one, yeah?"
The Doctor nodded and the bar keeper went back to his post. "How silly of me, I didn't even look."
Rose felt a bit of panic. Had she looked scornful when refusing his offer? She'd consciously tried not to, though trying not to look a certain way has been the downfall of many. "No, it's all right. I just don't usually drink liquor. I'm really more of a pint and plate of chips girl."
"Oh, aye?" he said absently, lost again in his drink.
She was having a hard time getting a read on him. He seemed interested in her for a minute, but then the next he was acting as if he was sitting there alone again. Perhaps his comment about poofs and pouffes had been a hint, and at that thought Rose felt like she wanted to melt in to the floor. Now that she looked at him again--the smart suit, the hair product, the manicured finger nails--it all made sense.
She sighed, and in an attempt to drown her embarrassment, took a sip of her drink that was more like a gulp and found herself nearly pitching over on to the floor choking and spluttering. The Doctor immediately jumped up, balanced his drink on the mantelpiece and rushed to her side. He took the snifter from her and set it next to his glass, then strode over to the bar, reappearing again a moment later with a glass of water.
"Steady on!" he said, handing it to her and helping her sit up again. "You weren't joking when you said you don't normally drink liquor!"
She waved him away and took a few sips of the water. Her eyes were watering, her mascara probably running, her cheeks flushed. Good thing he's gay, she thought, or that really would have been mortifying!
"You all right, Rose Tyler?"
She nodded. "Yeah. Just went down the wrong pipe I guess." She laughed lamely.
"I think you had better switch to that pint, if you want to make it out of here alive."
She took another minute to compose herself. "I'm a terrible lightweight. Two drinks and I'm anybody's."
Her laugh was bright and pure and the Doctor felt both of his hearts contract a little.
"Oh aye," he said again, sounding extremely thoughtful.
The bar keeper reappeared, this time bearing a steaming plate of chips and a pint of bitter. Rose looked between the man standing there handing her these items and the man sitting across from her with dimples popping out on both cheeks in his effort to not smirk. A poof or not, this one really is full of himself, she thought, but she also questioned her resolve to make him actually work for it should it come to that.
"I took the liberty," he said, taking the plate of chips and setting it down on the ottoman. The bar keeper handed the beer to Rose who took a long foamy gulp gratefully.
The Doctor leaned over and took a chip daintily in his fingers. "I do love a good chip," he said, blowing on it.
Their conversation over the food was remarkable only in so far as it contained absolutely no real information whatsoever about either of them. They each got the impression from the other that these details were not terribly important to their assessment of what they in fact wanted to do with one another. Rose had quite reversed her opinion of his sexual orientation, as his bright eyes became progressively more heavily lidded, and she caught him once or twice staring directly at her mouth as she spoke. At those moments, she casually paused to lick her lips before continuing. She thought at one point she heard him squeak in response, but couldn't be sure.
When he came back from a trip to the lavatory, he didn't sit down again, but rather walked over to the bar and fumbled about in his pockets for quite some time, producing one pound coin after another individually, and laying them out on the bar. It was like he'd never handled money before, and Rose watched with rapt amusement as the bar keeper slid back about five extra coins, shaking his head.
If he had been looking flustered at the bar, it didn't show as he turned to face her again and quite suggestively raised a single eyebrow. Rose felt something low in her belly do a somersault. Without even waiting to see if she had responded in the affirmative, he strolled over to the coat rack, where he located a long brown greatcoat that really was, in every conceivable way, a great coat. When he put it on, Rose took a moment to appreciate the fine tailoring that made the absolute most of his slim, lithe torso.
"That's quite a statement," she said as they approached the way out.
"The coat?" he asked, helping her up the steep stone stairs to the street. "Well, one really must, mustn't one? You see a coat like this, you sort of have to have it."
She nodded.
"And I'm that sort of man," he continued. "I see something beautiful, I take the time to appreciate it. A lot of time, if that's what it takes."
Rose almost fell off her low heels at this shocking bit of innuendo from a man she'd just met not even an hour before.
There was a fairly serious chill in the air, and they would have been able to see their breath had they not already been surrounded by a good deal of rather atmospheric fog. Rose had a jumper on, but shivered audibly as they ducked down a narrow close. The Doctor stopped walking and turned to her.
"I'm sorry, my manners are appalling." He started to shuck his coat, but she held out her hand and stopped him.
"No, that's all right. Maybe if you could just, you know...a bit of a warm-up?" She looked up and down the close to see that they were quite alone.
The Doctor raised his eyebrows, but opened his coat and beckoned her to him. Rose was surprised to find that he wasn't warm at all, though his heavy coat did take some of the chill off as he enfolded her in his arms. The man had no body fat on him at all, and Rose figured it probably stood to reason that he'd likewise have a hard time staying warm. Hence the importance of such fantastic outerwear.
Quite to his surprise, the Doctor found his body responding to the proximity of this human girl immediately. He wasn't sure if he would have so quickly and closely embraced her if he'd known he'd be betrayed in this way, but there was to be no unringing of that bell now. Rose snuggled up against his chest and brought her arms around his waist, brushing lightly against his backside. Another spasm of unhidden desire shot through him and this time Rose was not able to ignore it. She looked up in to his face with a knowing twinkle in her eye.
Whatever she was going to say, it was sure to be something cheeky and embarrassing, and he pre-empted any commentary by bending down and hovering his lips over hers, inviting her to close that last millimetre. For Rose, there was no question. The man was attractive, yes, but more than that, he seemed truly kind, a total gentleman, right down to letting her take the initiative in starting something that he quite clearly was eager to finish.
When their lips met, they moved to fit together perfectly without any of the usual first-kiss fumbling and tooth-clashing and nose-smashing. It was like the kiss that you dream about when you're an eleven year old girl drawing hearts around the name of the boy you fancy. She made a little sound of astonishment against his mouth, and he took the cue to deepen their embrace and take her bottom lip, sucking and darting his tongue against it. She relaxed in to him completely and grasped his hips in her hands.
If this kind of public rutting was not in her usual nature, she didn't take the time to think about it. She pulled his hips to hers and felt the straining of his ardour. He made a low sound deep in his chest and wrapped his arms tight around her. In a smooth motion, he turned so that she was against a cold stone wall and fully covered by the silhouette of his coat, should any prying eyes peer down the close looking for the source of the by-now quite obvious sounds of snogging.
Rose stood on tip-toe to better reach him, tilting her chin up and tempting him to put his lips there, and there, and also there. His hands traced complicated patterns first over her jumper and then began to fumble underneath, running his thumbs across the satin of her bra. She realised suddenly that she was trembling, and not due to the cold. The thrill of this encounter, of meeting a man who seemed so perfect, who so clearly also hungered after her, who's body fit so naturally in to the curves and valleys of her own, it sent palpable anticipation to every nerve ending, and in reply they all hummed and quivered with delight.
The Doctor felt her tremble beneath his hands, like one feels when one holds a soap bubble, such an impossible little thing, just waiting for it to pop. That this girl with the laughing eyes seemed to be in such accord with him, he couldn't get enough of it. This would be much more than just a quick trip to a planet where the inhabitants were biologically compatible. She made hundreds of minuscule little movements against him as she sought any bit of skin that she could, and he began to wonder about the hospitality options of this little alleyway in Old Town.
He pressed up against her, and the wall behind would have been uncomfortable if she'd been paying attention to it. As it was, the feel of how badly he desired her was driving her to distraction, and his name was on her lips as he sucked and nibbled at the taught skin of her neck.
"Rose," he whispered in to her ear before taking a little nip of her earlobe.
"Doctor," she said again, this time more questioning.
"Mm?"
"Doctor, is that the TARDIS down there?" They paused in their activity long enough for her to gesture to the other end of the close.
"Yes, I think it is." His words were a suggestive purr.
"I don't fancy getting cited for indecent exposure," she said, placing emphasis on "indecent."
He backed away from her, licking his lips and smoothing out his tie. She looked him up and down hungrily before pushing off from the wall and joining him in a quick jog to the end of the close where indeed the once again familiar blue box lay in wait. She fumbled with her key, her hands still trembling with anticipation and desire. Behind her the Doctor rocked back and forth on his heels impatiently.
The sound of the key entering the lock was fraught with erotic overtones but Rose stopped short of opening the door all the way, turning instead to give the Doctor a pointed look.
"What's with the accent? You're not Scottish."
"I'm not English either, you know. Besides, lots of planets have a.... Never mind."
It had been quite some time since they'd made love in the console room, and Rose was rather looking forward to a trip down memory lane. She opened the door wider, and, taking hold of the Doctor's tie, hauled him roughly through the aperture in to the soft orange glow of the TARDIS.