(no subject)
As Fair Art Thou, TenII/Rose, PG
Dedicated to professor_spork, on the occasion of her 21st birthday.
Rose wakes to the faint tickle of breath in her ear canal. The Doctor prods her bare shoulder with one finger, probably thinking he’s being gentle. “Rose,” he repeats in a more insistent whisper, “what are you doing today?” 1,502
O my Luve's like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June:
O my Luve's like the melodie,
That's sweetly play'd in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.
-Robert Burns
Rose dreams of a beach. It doesn’t happen very often, not since her return to this world, and when it does it’s not the gritty nightmare that plagued her so in the time in-between. Now the dream is brighter, softer around the edges, and the lanky man who watches her is blue-suited and blessedly solid. In this version of the dream, he smiles at her, extends slow fingers to smooth the length of her arm, and drops his lips to hear ear: Rose Tyler…
“What are you doing today?”
Rose wakes to the faint tickle of breath in her ear canal. The Doctor prods her bare shoulder with one finger, probably thinking he’s being gentle. “Rose,” he repeats in a more insistent whisper, “what are you doing today?”
She frowns, lifting one hand to lazily swat his finger away. “Time is it?” she mumbles.
“Quarter to five.”
Rose groans, squeezing her eyes shut. “M’sleeping, Doctor. That’s what I’m doing today.”
“What, all day?” he asks, sounding affronted and apparently finished with whispering.
“Doctor,” she murmurs threateningly, turning her head to face away from him.
He stays silent for approximately thirty seconds. Then he pokes her once again in the shoulder. “Okay,” he says, back to whispering, “but what are you doing after sleep?”
Rose sighs, letting one eye flutter open. “Going into work. Dad wanted to consult on something. He wanted to talk about it last night, but I asked him if it could wait. Because I wanted to go to sleep,” she finishes pointedly, rolling onto her side.
“Ah.” The Doctor slides closer and rearranges his body around hers, burrowing into her hair with his nose and stilling. Rose smiles, reaching back to pull his arm over her stomach. She is hovering somewhere between wake and sleep when the Doctor speaks again, voice muffled by her hair. “It’s just, the car’s already packed.”
She twists to face him, the end of her nose just brushing his. “And what car would that be?” she asks, catching her lower lip in her teeth.
He raises his eyebrows, shrugs as well as he can, and kisses her before rolling out of bed. “You’re packed already, too,” he enthuses as he plucks various items of clothing from their pile on the floor. “All you have to do is get dressed and come down.” He finishes the last button and bounds out the door, but quickly backtracks to the doorway. “That’s only if you want to, of course,” he says, running a hand back and forth through his hair. “If you’d rather sleep another few hours - well, you could nap in the car, but - or if you need to go into work, it’s fine. I’ll wait.” He tilts his head, grins, and races back down the hallway and downstairs.
Rose waits a few minutes before following him, but it’s only for show.
---
Thirty minutes and a pot of too-strong coffee later they are on the road, rattling along in the car the Doctor salvaged from Torchwood last week. (“You can’t just scrap it! It’s beautiful!” he’d protested, and looked astonished when one of the men replied that it was “just junk.” Pete asked later why he’d wanted it so badly, and the Doctor had shrugged and said “Old and blue, good enough for me,” and Rose wanted to laugh and to cry but instead she just smiled at him.)
“So where are we going?” Rose asks, twisting in the brown vinyl seat to look at him.
He smiles knowingly and taps the side of his nose. “You’ll see.”
Rose makes a show of crossing her arms over her chest and pouting. “You’re no fun. Well…Am I allowed to guess?”
The Doctor raises his eyebrows, amused. “Yeah, sure. Guess away.”
She does just that, voicing possibilities from the ordinary (“That diner in Wembley, with the bacon you like?” “Oooh, maybe-no, no, not today, no distractions.”) to the absurd (“The fifth moon of Raxacoricofallapatorius?” “Rose, please. Raxacoricofallapatorius only has three moons.”) until she literally cannot think of anything else.
“Finished guessing, then?” the Doctor asks smugly after a moment of silence.
Rose sticks her tongue out at him. She checks the time and finds to her surprise that nearly two hours have gone by. “Doctor,” she asks cautiously, “when will I see where we’re going, exactly?”
“Ohhh…” the Doctor screws his nose up, calculating. “Five, maybe six hours?”
“Six hours?” she repeats loudly. “Doctor, where are we going?”
He shrugs again, looking a bit sheepish now. “Didn’t I mention you might want to bring a book?”
“No,” Rose sighs, “you neglected to bring that up, I’m afraid.”
“Ah.” The Doctor nods, pressing his lips together. “Well. I’ve got one in the back on car renovation, if you like?”
She shakes her head, laughing. “That’s fine. I think I’ll take that nap like you suggested.”
He nods, looking relieved. “Brilliant.”
---
Rose wakes to the gentle jolt of her head bumping the windowpane. She frowns and tilts her head toward the Doctor. “How long has it been?”
He laughs, quickly glancing sideways at her with a smile. “A while. We’re nearly there.”
She hums happily at that and extends her arms in a lazy stretch. And then she looks out the window for the first time. “Doctor,” she gasps, scrambling into a more upright position, “where are we?”
“Aha,” the Doctor responds in an unmistakably Scottish accent, “welcome, me red, red Rose, to the Scottish Highlands.”
Rose stares, open-mouthed, at the cloud-laced emerald peaks rising up on either side and in front of the car. “You’ve driven me to Scotland?”
“Yes, lass.” He turns to look at her for a moment, beaming. “And what’s the occasion, might ye ask?”
“I was going to ask, yeah,” she replies weakly.
“Well, today just happens to be our anniversary.”
Rose turns her attention to him briefly, frowning. “Our anniversary?”
“Yes! About one hundred and thirty years ago today, we were in this very country, being harassed by Her Majesty Queen Victoria. Well, one hundred and thirty years ago today relatively speaking, of course.”
She raises her eyebrows. “She was harassing us?”
“Well.” He shrugs. “The details are a bit fuzzy. And anyway, we’re not going back to that exact spot. Can’t have the possibility of werewolves ruining our anniversary weekend. So we’re going to Scone!”
“Scoon?”
“Spelled S-c-o-n-e. Like the lovely pastry. Only pronounced scoon, like…the boat. More or less.”
“Can we stop?”
The Doctor glances sharply at her, jerking the wheel and nearly colliding with an oncoming Renault. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, of course, sorry,” she responds in a rush, “I just want to get out and look for a second. If that’s all right.”
He grins at that. “That is absolutely all right.”
As soon as the Doctor stops the car and Rose flings her door wide, jumping out and twirling to take in their surroundings. “It’s so gorgeous,” she breathes, biting her lower lip and widening her eyes.
“Oy!” The Doctor comes around to meet her, playfully pointing at her door. “Careful with that, I’ve only just renovated-”
Rose cuts him off by spinning him to face her, rising on her toes and pressing her lips softly to his. “Happy anniversary,” she says after she pulls back to look up at him, a warm smile playing across her lips.
The Doctor returns the smile, brushes her hair back, and tightens his arms around her. “Well, these things should be celebrated.” He leans down to kiss her again, lingering until a passing motorist honks and calls something indistinguishable out the window at them.
“How much farther to Scone?” Rose asks as they slide back into the car.
“Not far now, maybe half an hour,” he replies, smiling as she gingerly pulls her door shut. “I thought we’d see the town, eat something - scones, if you like - and then I didn’t make any reservations for the night, I thought you might see an inn you like while we’re exploring later.”
“D’you think we could sleep outside?” she asks, turning wide, pleading eyes to him.
He raises his eyebrows, not taking his eyes off the road this time. “Do you want to?”
She catches her tongue between her teeth. “Sort of, yeah.”
“Then it sounds perfect to me.”
---
That night, after the Doctor falls asleep with his arms wrapped around her, Rose stays awake staring at the stars. She thinks of how many of them she’s seen, and of the ones she never will. She thinks of the old blue car parked just behind them, and of the box it doesn’t quite replace. She thinks of the words whispered in her ear the last time she stood on a beach; the same words whispered in her ear over and over tonight, replaced moments ago by a gentle snoring. And she thinks that this adventure isn’t as good as the ones in the box among the stars - it’s better.
When she finally falls asleep, Rose dreams of mountains.
Dedicated to professor_spork, on the occasion of her 21st birthday.
Rose wakes to the faint tickle of breath in her ear canal. The Doctor prods her bare shoulder with one finger, probably thinking he’s being gentle. “Rose,” he repeats in a more insistent whisper, “what are you doing today?” 1,502
O my Luve's like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June:
O my Luve's like the melodie,
That's sweetly play'd in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.
-Robert Burns
Rose dreams of a beach. It doesn’t happen very often, not since her return to this world, and when it does it’s not the gritty nightmare that plagued her so in the time in-between. Now the dream is brighter, softer around the edges, and the lanky man who watches her is blue-suited and blessedly solid. In this version of the dream, he smiles at her, extends slow fingers to smooth the length of her arm, and drops his lips to hear ear: Rose Tyler…
“What are you doing today?”
Rose wakes to the faint tickle of breath in her ear canal. The Doctor prods her bare shoulder with one finger, probably thinking he’s being gentle. “Rose,” he repeats in a more insistent whisper, “what are you doing today?”
She frowns, lifting one hand to lazily swat his finger away. “Time is it?” she mumbles.
“Quarter to five.”
Rose groans, squeezing her eyes shut. “M’sleeping, Doctor. That’s what I’m doing today.”
“What, all day?” he asks, sounding affronted and apparently finished with whispering.
“Doctor,” she murmurs threateningly, turning her head to face away from him.
He stays silent for approximately thirty seconds. Then he pokes her once again in the shoulder. “Okay,” he says, back to whispering, “but what are you doing after sleep?”
Rose sighs, letting one eye flutter open. “Going into work. Dad wanted to consult on something. He wanted to talk about it last night, but I asked him if it could wait. Because I wanted to go to sleep,” she finishes pointedly, rolling onto her side.
“Ah.” The Doctor slides closer and rearranges his body around hers, burrowing into her hair with his nose and stilling. Rose smiles, reaching back to pull his arm over her stomach. She is hovering somewhere between wake and sleep when the Doctor speaks again, voice muffled by her hair. “It’s just, the car’s already packed.”
She twists to face him, the end of her nose just brushing his. “And what car would that be?” she asks, catching her lower lip in her teeth.
He raises his eyebrows, shrugs as well as he can, and kisses her before rolling out of bed. “You’re packed already, too,” he enthuses as he plucks various items of clothing from their pile on the floor. “All you have to do is get dressed and come down.” He finishes the last button and bounds out the door, but quickly backtracks to the doorway. “That’s only if you want to, of course,” he says, running a hand back and forth through his hair. “If you’d rather sleep another few hours - well, you could nap in the car, but - or if you need to go into work, it’s fine. I’ll wait.” He tilts his head, grins, and races back down the hallway and downstairs.
Rose waits a few minutes before following him, but it’s only for show.
---
Thirty minutes and a pot of too-strong coffee later they are on the road, rattling along in the car the Doctor salvaged from Torchwood last week. (“You can’t just scrap it! It’s beautiful!” he’d protested, and looked astonished when one of the men replied that it was “just junk.” Pete asked later why he’d wanted it so badly, and the Doctor had shrugged and said “Old and blue, good enough for me,” and Rose wanted to laugh and to cry but instead she just smiled at him.)
“So where are we going?” Rose asks, twisting in the brown vinyl seat to look at him.
He smiles knowingly and taps the side of his nose. “You’ll see.”
Rose makes a show of crossing her arms over her chest and pouting. “You’re no fun. Well…Am I allowed to guess?”
The Doctor raises his eyebrows, amused. “Yeah, sure. Guess away.”
She does just that, voicing possibilities from the ordinary (“That diner in Wembley, with the bacon you like?” “Oooh, maybe-no, no, not today, no distractions.”) to the absurd (“The fifth moon of Raxacoricofallapatorius?” “Rose, please. Raxacoricofallapatorius only has three moons.”) until she literally cannot think of anything else.
“Finished guessing, then?” the Doctor asks smugly after a moment of silence.
Rose sticks her tongue out at him. She checks the time and finds to her surprise that nearly two hours have gone by. “Doctor,” she asks cautiously, “when will I see where we’re going, exactly?”
“Ohhh…” the Doctor screws his nose up, calculating. “Five, maybe six hours?”
“Six hours?” she repeats loudly. “Doctor, where are we going?”
He shrugs again, looking a bit sheepish now. “Didn’t I mention you might want to bring a book?”
“No,” Rose sighs, “you neglected to bring that up, I’m afraid.”
“Ah.” The Doctor nods, pressing his lips together. “Well. I’ve got one in the back on car renovation, if you like?”
She shakes her head, laughing. “That’s fine. I think I’ll take that nap like you suggested.”
He nods, looking relieved. “Brilliant.”
---
Rose wakes to the gentle jolt of her head bumping the windowpane. She frowns and tilts her head toward the Doctor. “How long has it been?”
He laughs, quickly glancing sideways at her with a smile. “A while. We’re nearly there.”
She hums happily at that and extends her arms in a lazy stretch. And then she looks out the window for the first time. “Doctor,” she gasps, scrambling into a more upright position, “where are we?”
“Aha,” the Doctor responds in an unmistakably Scottish accent, “welcome, me red, red Rose, to the Scottish Highlands.”
Rose stares, open-mouthed, at the cloud-laced emerald peaks rising up on either side and in front of the car. “You’ve driven me to Scotland?”
“Yes, lass.” He turns to look at her for a moment, beaming. “And what’s the occasion, might ye ask?”
“I was going to ask, yeah,” she replies weakly.
“Well, today just happens to be our anniversary.”
Rose turns her attention to him briefly, frowning. “Our anniversary?”
“Yes! About one hundred and thirty years ago today, we were in this very country, being harassed by Her Majesty Queen Victoria. Well, one hundred and thirty years ago today relatively speaking, of course.”
She raises her eyebrows. “She was harassing us?”
“Well.” He shrugs. “The details are a bit fuzzy. And anyway, we’re not going back to that exact spot. Can’t have the possibility of werewolves ruining our anniversary weekend. So we’re going to Scone!”
“Scoon?”
“Spelled S-c-o-n-e. Like the lovely pastry. Only pronounced scoon, like…the boat. More or less.”
“Can we stop?”
The Doctor glances sharply at her, jerking the wheel and nearly colliding with an oncoming Renault. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, of course, sorry,” she responds in a rush, “I just want to get out and look for a second. If that’s all right.”
He grins at that. “That is absolutely all right.”
As soon as the Doctor stops the car and Rose flings her door wide, jumping out and twirling to take in their surroundings. “It’s so gorgeous,” she breathes, biting her lower lip and widening her eyes.
“Oy!” The Doctor comes around to meet her, playfully pointing at her door. “Careful with that, I’ve only just renovated-”
Rose cuts him off by spinning him to face her, rising on her toes and pressing her lips softly to his. “Happy anniversary,” she says after she pulls back to look up at him, a warm smile playing across her lips.
The Doctor returns the smile, brushes her hair back, and tightens his arms around her. “Well, these things should be celebrated.” He leans down to kiss her again, lingering until a passing motorist honks and calls something indistinguishable out the window at them.
“How much farther to Scone?” Rose asks as they slide back into the car.
“Not far now, maybe half an hour,” he replies, smiling as she gingerly pulls her door shut. “I thought we’d see the town, eat something - scones, if you like - and then I didn’t make any reservations for the night, I thought you might see an inn you like while we’re exploring later.”
“D’you think we could sleep outside?” she asks, turning wide, pleading eyes to him.
He raises his eyebrows, not taking his eyes off the road this time. “Do you want to?”
She catches her tongue between her teeth. “Sort of, yeah.”
“Then it sounds perfect to me.”
---
That night, after the Doctor falls asleep with his arms wrapped around her, Rose stays awake staring at the stars. She thinks of how many of them she’s seen, and of the ones she never will. She thinks of the old blue car parked just behind them, and of the box it doesn’t quite replace. She thinks of the words whispered in her ear the last time she stood on a beach; the same words whispered in her ear over and over tonight, replaced moments ago by a gentle snoring. And she thinks that this adventure isn’t as good as the ones in the box among the stars - it’s better.
When she finally falls asleep, Rose dreams of mountains.