When The Talking Stops 1/1
Story: When The Talking Stops
Author: wmr
Characters: Tenth Doctor, Rose, a glimpse of Mickey
Rated: PG13
Summary: He couldn’t wait to get you out of there! That was the look of a bloke whose mind was only on one thing. Sequel to Everybody's Talking.
Requested by
crimedoc1 on the request-a-continuation meme. With much thanks to
dark_aegis for BRing. Hope this meets your requirements,
crimedoc1 !
When The Talking Stops
As the dance ends, he bends and murmurs in her ear, “Can we leave now?”
Fine by her. More than fine. The sooner they go, the sooner she can escape the inquisitive glances of her friends, the looks they’re giving her that say spill! She knows exactly what Shareen, egged on by Michelle, is going to say when she catches up with her - and she will; if not tonight before they leave, there’ll be texts on her phone demanding that she call. I knew there was something going on! she’s going to say. You bloody liar, Tyler!
Shareen was already convinced she and the Doctor were doing it on a regular basis, after all. And after tonight she’s never going to believe otherwise.
But she wasn’t lying. And now… well, what’s going on now is a mystery.
He grips her hand in his as they leave the dance-floor, and she doesn’t miss the fact that his brisk pace and focus on the door is sending signals to everyone around not to delay them. Of course, she knows what Shareen and the others will make of that, too.
He couldn’t wait to get you out of there! That was the look of a bloke whose mind was only on one thing.
Yeah, right. The only thing on the Doctor’s mind is getting away from her nosy friends! That still won’t stop them demanding that she reveal all, just as they all did years ago any time any of them got a new bloke. Is he a good kisser? Does he know how to use his hands? What’s he like in bed?
The first… oh, god, yeah. The rest… well, is she ever likely to find out? Before tonight, she’d have said a definite no. But now… Now, everything’s different. Isn’t it?
He said it himself. Just because everybody’s talking doesn’t mean it can’t be true.
What’s not true?
Mickey catches her eye, giving her a thumbs-up signal and a grin; he winks at the Doctor and gives him the same thumbs-up. She steals a glance at the Doctor, wondering how he’s taking it, and catches the quick grin he throws Mickey in response.
And then they’re outside the Spit and Feathers, alone but for another couple walking away in the opposite direction to the way they’re going. It’s just her and the Doctor, and suddenly her throat’s dry and her stomach’s wobbly.
What happens now?
Everything’s changed between them. Right? Kissing like that, without anything making them do it, without bodyswaps or him saving her life or anything like that. Things’ve got to have changed. There’s no way they can just go back.
Though, wait. The most likely thing is he’ll just never mention it again. That’s what he does. And she’s just supposed to act like it never happened, too.
Right. When she can’t even look at him without remembering the best damn snog she’s ever had in her life. She used to laugh at all those romance-novel descriptions of kisses - seeing stars, the world spinning under her feet, being swept away on a tide of wonder - but not any more. Well, okay, travelling with the Doctor’s enough to make the world spin under anyone’s feet, but the rest of it...
God, she’s on fire just thinking about it.
“You’re very quiet,” he says, and there’s laughter in his voice. “Not like you at all. Usually chattering away, you are. Don’t tell me I’ve managed to silence the ever-talkative Rose Tyler?”
“Talk about the pot calling the kettle black,” she retorts, turning to stare up at him. And then the sight of his ruffled hair - and the knowledge that she’s the one who got it into that state - sends a surge of nervous anticipation through her again.
“You’re blushing,” he points out, sounding far too pleased with himself. Damn. They would have to be walking under a street light right this second.
“Am not,” she protests, knowing she’s lying.
“You are.” He grins. “That’s definitely a blush. See? Right there. All pink and red and glowy.”
“Oh, shut up.” Her blush intensifies, and she looks anywhere but at him.
His hand tightens around hers. “S’pose your phone’ll be ringing non-stop in the morning.”
“Surprised it’s not ringing already,” she says.
He laughs. “I switched it off.”
“When?” She has to look at him again then. “It’s been in my pocket all night!”
His free hand produces the sonic screwdriver. “New setting.”
All she can do is shake her head. He’ll snog her to get her friends talking - and he seems to find it highly amusing - and he’ll muck around with her phone. But will he tell her what all this means for them? Or even what she means to him? No chance.
There’s the TARDIS now, right in front of them. Good. Another minute, and she can make an excuse, say she’s tired and hurry off to bed. And then in the morning all this will be forgotten. Well, of course it won’t. Not really. But they’ll both be pretending it’s never happened.
Suddenly, he breaks into a run, towing her along with him, and a couple of seconds later they reach the TARDIS door. His key’s in his hand, and he’s opening it immediately, pushing her gently in ahead of him.
“Think I’ll - ”
Her attempt to make her excuses and leave is abruptly interrupted. Strong arms push her firmly against the inside of the TARDIS door and cool lips, lips she was getting to know intimately earlier, descend forcefully on hers.
Again. He’s kissing her again. And if she thought the kiss earlier, back in the pub, was intense, that was like comparing an afternoon stroll to a frantic run. This one’s blazing. This one’s stealing her breath away, turning her legs to jelly, stirring her up and shaking her until she doesn’t know whether she’s on her head or her feet.
And it doesn’t stop. On and on he kisses her, allowing her pauses for just long enough to catch her breath before diving in for more. He kisses like a survivor of the desert might gulp water: insatiably, without letting up, as if he’s afraid if he lets go she’ll disappear.
She can barely keep up. There was a time she rated herself a pretty good kisser, even if she did say so herself. Mickey used to say she was good. But against this... She’s trying to meet him kiss for kiss, but after a while all she can do is let him sweep her away, clinging to him as if she’ll collapse to the floor if she lets go. And she probably would.
Until, finally, he raises his head and looks down at her, eyes bright and with something in their dark depths she’s never seen before.
“Rose?” Even the way he says her name is different. It’s not just the husky quality to his voice. It’s the way his articulation of it sends a shiver all the way through her.
“Doc - ” She has to stop, swallow, catch her breath again. “Doctor. What... what was that?”
He grins again. “You really need me to tell you? Kissing, Rose Tyler. A human custom - one of the better ones, really - in which one party - ”
She swipes at him with her hand. “You know what I mean. You’ve never done anything like that before.”
His expression sobers instantly. “No.”
“Then... why now?”
For a few moments, she thinks he’s not going to answer, and she regrets even asking. Has she destroyed the mood? Is he going to change the subject completely now, and then pretend it’s never happened?
But, instead, he draws his index finger down her cheek. “It was time.”
“Time?” God, she feels stupid, just repeating what he’s saying. But... damnit, she needs to understand. Has to know where she stands here.
“Yes.” He’s reaching for her again, and this time drawing her towards him, enfolding her against his chest as he’s done so many times. Hugging her. But there’s something very different about this time. Something she’s never felt when he’s held her before.
He wants her.
“Why now?” she asks again. “I mean... earlier, you were doing everything you could to avoid dancing with me.”
He blows out a soft breath; she feels it stirring her hair. “Oh, final struggle against the inevitable, I suppose. I don’t do this, Rose. Well, not often. It’s not sensible. Told you that before.”
Oh. Yeah, right. The wither and die stuff.
“So, what’s changed, then?” Even as she asks the question, she’s wishing it taken back. He really hates discussing stuff, especially his motives for things. He’s going to stop this conversation now and change his mind altogether.
But, instead, he presses his palm to the side of her head. “It was inevitable. Said so, didn’t I? Besides, you’ve stayed with me this far. And... well, even though I know I’ll lose you some day it’s not going to hurt any less if we stay the way we’ve always been. Best mates.”
“Still best mates, though, aren’t we?”
“Oh, yes.” He pulls back so she can see his affectionate smile. “Just a little more, as well.”
“Only a little?”
His grin widens. “Up to you.
She grinds her hips against his. “I vote for a lot more.”
His hands move to her hips, pressing her against him. “I vote for less talking.”
She’s about to say something about that being rich coming from him, but then his lips cover hers again and words are the last thing on her mind.
He’s right. Talking’s definitely over-rated. No matter who’s doing the talking.
END
Author: wmr
Characters: Tenth Doctor, Rose, a glimpse of Mickey
Rated: PG13
Summary: He couldn’t wait to get you out of there! That was the look of a bloke whose mind was only on one thing. Sequel to Everybody's Talking.
Requested by
crimedoc1 on the request-a-continuation meme. With much thanks to
dark_aegis for BRing. Hope this meets your requirements,
crimedoc1 !
When The Talking Stops
As the dance ends, he bends and murmurs in her ear, “Can we leave now?”
Fine by her. More than fine. The sooner they go, the sooner she can escape the inquisitive glances of her friends, the looks they’re giving her that say spill! She knows exactly what Shareen, egged on by Michelle, is going to say when she catches up with her - and she will; if not tonight before they leave, there’ll be texts on her phone demanding that she call. I knew there was something going on! she’s going to say. You bloody liar, Tyler!
Shareen was already convinced she and the Doctor were doing it on a regular basis, after all. And after tonight she’s never going to believe otherwise.
But she wasn’t lying. And now… well, what’s going on now is a mystery.
He grips her hand in his as they leave the dance-floor, and she doesn’t miss the fact that his brisk pace and focus on the door is sending signals to everyone around not to delay them. Of course, she knows what Shareen and the others will make of that, too.
He couldn’t wait to get you out of there! That was the look of a bloke whose mind was only on one thing.
Yeah, right. The only thing on the Doctor’s mind is getting away from her nosy friends! That still won’t stop them demanding that she reveal all, just as they all did years ago any time any of them got a new bloke. Is he a good kisser? Does he know how to use his hands? What’s he like in bed?
The first… oh, god, yeah. The rest… well, is she ever likely to find out? Before tonight, she’d have said a definite no. But now… Now, everything’s different. Isn’t it?
He said it himself. Just because everybody’s talking doesn’t mean it can’t be true.
What’s not true?
Mickey catches her eye, giving her a thumbs-up signal and a grin; he winks at the Doctor and gives him the same thumbs-up. She steals a glance at the Doctor, wondering how he’s taking it, and catches the quick grin he throws Mickey in response.
And then they’re outside the Spit and Feathers, alone but for another couple walking away in the opposite direction to the way they’re going. It’s just her and the Doctor, and suddenly her throat’s dry and her stomach’s wobbly.
What happens now?
Everything’s changed between them. Right? Kissing like that, without anything making them do it, without bodyswaps or him saving her life or anything like that. Things’ve got to have changed. There’s no way they can just go back.
Though, wait. The most likely thing is he’ll just never mention it again. That’s what he does. And she’s just supposed to act like it never happened, too.
Right. When she can’t even look at him without remembering the best damn snog she’s ever had in her life. She used to laugh at all those romance-novel descriptions of kisses - seeing stars, the world spinning under her feet, being swept away on a tide of wonder - but not any more. Well, okay, travelling with the Doctor’s enough to make the world spin under anyone’s feet, but the rest of it...
God, she’s on fire just thinking about it.
“You’re very quiet,” he says, and there’s laughter in his voice. “Not like you at all. Usually chattering away, you are. Don’t tell me I’ve managed to silence the ever-talkative Rose Tyler?”
“Talk about the pot calling the kettle black,” she retorts, turning to stare up at him. And then the sight of his ruffled hair - and the knowledge that she’s the one who got it into that state - sends a surge of nervous anticipation through her again.
“You’re blushing,” he points out, sounding far too pleased with himself. Damn. They would have to be walking under a street light right this second.
“Am not,” she protests, knowing she’s lying.
“You are.” He grins. “That’s definitely a blush. See? Right there. All pink and red and glowy.”
“Oh, shut up.” Her blush intensifies, and she looks anywhere but at him.
His hand tightens around hers. “S’pose your phone’ll be ringing non-stop in the morning.”
“Surprised it’s not ringing already,” she says.
He laughs. “I switched it off.”
“When?” She has to look at him again then. “It’s been in my pocket all night!”
His free hand produces the sonic screwdriver. “New setting.”
All she can do is shake her head. He’ll snog her to get her friends talking - and he seems to find it highly amusing - and he’ll muck around with her phone. But will he tell her what all this means for them? Or even what she means to him? No chance.
There’s the TARDIS now, right in front of them. Good. Another minute, and she can make an excuse, say she’s tired and hurry off to bed. And then in the morning all this will be forgotten. Well, of course it won’t. Not really. But they’ll both be pretending it’s never happened.
Suddenly, he breaks into a run, towing her along with him, and a couple of seconds later they reach the TARDIS door. His key’s in his hand, and he’s opening it immediately, pushing her gently in ahead of him.
“Think I’ll - ”
Her attempt to make her excuses and leave is abruptly interrupted. Strong arms push her firmly against the inside of the TARDIS door and cool lips, lips she was getting to know intimately earlier, descend forcefully on hers.
Again. He’s kissing her again. And if she thought the kiss earlier, back in the pub, was intense, that was like comparing an afternoon stroll to a frantic run. This one’s blazing. This one’s stealing her breath away, turning her legs to jelly, stirring her up and shaking her until she doesn’t know whether she’s on her head or her feet.
And it doesn’t stop. On and on he kisses her, allowing her pauses for just long enough to catch her breath before diving in for more. He kisses like a survivor of the desert might gulp water: insatiably, without letting up, as if he’s afraid if he lets go she’ll disappear.
She can barely keep up. There was a time she rated herself a pretty good kisser, even if she did say so herself. Mickey used to say she was good. But against this... She’s trying to meet him kiss for kiss, but after a while all she can do is let him sweep her away, clinging to him as if she’ll collapse to the floor if she lets go. And she probably would.
Until, finally, he raises his head and looks down at her, eyes bright and with something in their dark depths she’s never seen before.
“Rose?” Even the way he says her name is different. It’s not just the husky quality to his voice. It’s the way his articulation of it sends a shiver all the way through her.
“Doc - ” She has to stop, swallow, catch her breath again. “Doctor. What... what was that?”
He grins again. “You really need me to tell you? Kissing, Rose Tyler. A human custom - one of the better ones, really - in which one party - ”
She swipes at him with her hand. “You know what I mean. You’ve never done anything like that before.”
His expression sobers instantly. “No.”
“Then... why now?”
For a few moments, she thinks he’s not going to answer, and she regrets even asking. Has she destroyed the mood? Is he going to change the subject completely now, and then pretend it’s never happened?
But, instead, he draws his index finger down her cheek. “It was time.”
“Time?” God, she feels stupid, just repeating what he’s saying. But... damnit, she needs to understand. Has to know where she stands here.
“Yes.” He’s reaching for her again, and this time drawing her towards him, enfolding her against his chest as he’s done so many times. Hugging her. But there’s something very different about this time. Something she’s never felt when he’s held her before.
He wants her.
“Why now?” she asks again. “I mean... earlier, you were doing everything you could to avoid dancing with me.”
He blows out a soft breath; she feels it stirring her hair. “Oh, final struggle against the inevitable, I suppose. I don’t do this, Rose. Well, not often. It’s not sensible. Told you that before.”
Oh. Yeah, right. The wither and die stuff.
“So, what’s changed, then?” Even as she asks the question, she’s wishing it taken back. He really hates discussing stuff, especially his motives for things. He’s going to stop this conversation now and change his mind altogether.
But, instead, he presses his palm to the side of her head. “It was inevitable. Said so, didn’t I? Besides, you’ve stayed with me this far. And... well, even though I know I’ll lose you some day it’s not going to hurt any less if we stay the way we’ve always been. Best mates.”
“Still best mates, though, aren’t we?”
“Oh, yes.” He pulls back so she can see his affectionate smile. “Just a little more, as well.”
“Only a little?”
His grin widens. “Up to you.
She grinds her hips against his. “I vote for a lot more.”
His hands move to her hips, pressing her against him. “I vote for less talking.”
She’s about to say something about that being rich coming from him, but then his lips cover hers again and words are the last thing on her mind.
He’s right. Talking’s definitely over-rated. No matter who’s doing the talking.
END