New fic: Lessons 1/1 (a WOTD fic)
I really wasn't going to do this today, but then good intentions foundered upon rocks and this is the result.
Word of the Day: Tutelage
tutelage \TOO-tuhl-ij; TYOO-\, noun:
1. The act of guarding or protecting; guardianship; protection.
2. The state of being under a guardian or tutor.
3. Instruction, especially individual instruction accompanied by close attention and guidance.
Story: Lessons
Author: WMR
Rated: PG13
Characters: Nine, Rose, Jack
Summary: You never stop learning things, no matter how much you think you know.
Lessons
primary
Her hands cover his, showing him again and again where he needs to place them. He’s trying, really he is, though he can’t help but let his impatience show from time to time.
This isn’t him. He’s a Time Lord. More than nine hundred years old. He doesn’t do this. And it’s galling that a nineteen-year-old human is the one to teach him how.
Though given it’s this nineteen-year-old human, he doesn’t mind as much as he pretends.
She’s good at this, really good. Agile and flexible, her body glides up and down as he watches, admires. Knows that even if he gets the movements right, manages to do what she wants him to, he’ll never be that smooth, never be able to perform with her elegance and grace.
“Enough,” he pleads after a while, panting, irritated with himself for it. He’d thought he was in good condition, fit, athletic. Yet she’s wearing him out, and not breaking a sweat herself.
“Not a chance,” she tells him, and she flicks at him with her hand. “Come on, you’re going to try it one more time. ‘S easy. Just put your hands here, like this, and then move your hips like I showed you...” And she’s touching him, guiding him, again, as she’s done several times.
And, once more, he’s useless. A failure. He doesn’t know why she’s still bothering with this.
“Look, do we have to?” he protests again.
“Yes,” she insists. And, since he’s already finding that he can deny her nothing, he shakes his head, pushes aside his humiliation and tries again. Just for her.
But he still doubts that he’ll ever be able to climb a rope the way Rose Tyler can. Even if she insists that it’s a survival skill he needs to have; that one day it could save his life. Just as she saved his life swinging from a chain.
Still, he lets her place his hands on the rope one more time, lets her explain how to use his lower body to push himself up, watches her shimmy up her rope next to him and doesn’t let her see that he’s not just admiring her skill.
secondary
He thought he knew it all. How to survive. How to defeat the enemy. How to look after Number One, keep yourself alive against all odds, how to get revenge just a little at a time, while not harming anyone innocent of blame.
Cheating, conning, but always with a smile and a dash of charm. He knows how to do that, is an expert in the subject.
He knows about life. How it can build you up, lead you on with false expectations, and then knock you flat when you least expect it. How you can’t expect any favours from life. How you can rely on no-one but yourself. And all you can expect from other people is that they’ll do exactly the same.
He knows, now, that he knew nothing.
He didn’t know that all human life could be destroyed by one innocent little piece of genetic robotics, designed to heal.
He didn’t know that sooner or later careful planning would go awry and leave him with no escape. That he wouldn’t always be able to flee the volcano.
He didn’t know that his entire world would be turned upside down by a blonde hanging onto a barrage balloon and a leather-clad myth turned into living, breathing, vengeful reality. That they would make him face the volcano, then save his life and reveal to him how little he knew about everything.
He’s learning now everything he didn’t know before. That life’s not about petty revenge or how easily you can use your natural assets to take advantage of people. That saving the world isn’t just something you dream of doing when you’re a child. That you really can do it if you try hard enough.
That there are things worth believing in. Right over wrong. Fairness. Justice. Doing good where you can rather than walking by on the other side.
That not everyone is lying to you. That some people can be trusted. That showing vulnerability doesn’t mean you’ll be betrayed.
That two are better than one, and three are better than two. That other people can be trusted to guard his back and keep him from danger.
That someone else’s safety can mean more to him than his own. That he would be willing to die to secure her life - or his.
That sometimes ‘I love you’ means exactly that and has no ulterior motive.
That it’s possible to find a home in a blue box that’s bigger on the inside. And in the hearts of two people all logic dictates he never should have met, but that Fate has led him to.
That he never stood a chance, really. But that’s just the way he wants it to be.
tertiary
It’s better with three.
They still run for their lives through time and space, but she has two hands to grab onto.
They still visit interesting and beautiful places, but she has someone else to explore with when the Doctor gets bored and decides to leave her to it. Someone who doesn’t mind shopping excursions and will even carry her bags without complaint. Someone to roll eyes with when the Doctor starts his stupid ape speeches.
Just as she has someone to laugh with when Jack’s tales of action and adventure become a little too implausible.
She has two dance partners. Two men to flirt with.
And, in the dead of night, two to hold onto. Two to show her what she’d never imagined could be real.
Two to whisper soft words to her, to caress and stroke her body, to cover her with kisses, to make her arch with pleasure and come with soft cries.
Two to show her how to please them, too, what they like and how they like it, fast or slow, hard or soft. Two to watch as they pleasure each other, knowing that it pleases her to see them do it.
Two to collapse in a tangle of limbs with, three bodies together, barely able to tell where one ends and the others begin.
Two to show her that three doesn’t have to mean jealousy or rivalry, but together creates a stronger shape than two.
For, in the end, love is also better with three.
END
x-posted to: better_with_3, new_who_wotdfic