fic; doctor who: Sexual Tension in Stasis (part 1/2)
title: Sexual Tension in Stasis (part 1/2)
fandom: Doctor Who.
pairing: Ten/TenToo/Rose, together.
rating: Adult.
words: 4,683, this part; 9,839 total.
notes: This was written for the time_and_chips 2012 Advent Calendar, and is actually already complete, part 2 follows on right after, I was just hampered by lj's character limit. Thank you to gallifreyburning and winterinthetardis for reading this over, and assuring me I wasn't a million miles off-base.
summary/intro: The metaphor extends, the needle tripping ever closer to the end of the disc, and he’ll need to go back to that other universe once it’s played through.
Follow the cut!
The science of it is lost on her.
There's an explanation they both try, something about a record and a needle and how even played incorrectly, the instructions for the music are still on the vinyl. The TARDIS found the groove, they tell her. And some warped and backward symphony lands the Doctor -- the two-hearted one -- back in Pete's World.
The metaphor extends, the needle tripping ever closer to the end of the disc, and he'll need to go back to that other universe once it's played through.
It's that part that she understands -- this is temporary, and a mistake, and she should enjoy it while it lasts.
And she would, if only they'd let her.
The words explode from her Doctor almost as soon as they're seated in the living room. A babble, a tirade, and a thank you all wrapped up into something she's definitely heard before.
"Thought you'd stay as far from us as possible, if you ever made it back here," the half-human Doctor says. "All that blood and anger and revenge flying around, a Time Lord could get himself hurt."
There's more to this speech, she knows, and he's got his mouth open to give it, but a look passes between the two Doctors and instead the other speaks.
"Yes, I could," he says and he's looking right at Rose.
She thinks about her own speech, the things she's rehearsed, things she's said to this human him, misdirected and properly directed and she just -- lets it go.
"I don't want to do this," she says, and they both look at her, twin sets of wide eyes from either direction.
There's only the one place to sit in the room, a big sectional sofa, and they've all staked out a portion, everybody on their own cushion, everybody with their own turf. And it's not what she wants out of this night.
She doesn't know what, exactly, she does want, only that it's not this tension and anger -- because she's not angry anymore, not really. Neither of them are. Too busy being happy for that.
Or, when there is anger now, it's so much more domestic. Fights about the laundry, and forgotten bills, which one of them brought that hacking flu into the flat first, why it isn't appropriate for him to sign Tony out of school for a field trip to the planetarium -- even if she meets them there, and they discover a star.
There'd been the old sort of anger for too long, shouting matches about making decisions for her, nights where he slept on this very sofa, cup after cup of tea and sympathy at her mum's, and she'd put it to rest.
They'd put it to rest.
"I've told the Doctor," she gestures to the end of the sofa, where the human one sits. "I've said everything I need to say. And you know what? It wasn't a surprise to him, any of it. So," this time she gestures to the Time Lord, "You just take a moment, you imagine what I'd say to you, and we move on."
He nods, and leaves his head bowed, staring at a corner of the coffee table for a few long moments before speaking again.
"What if there are things I need to say to you?"
There's a spike of heat in her chest, a burning sort of fury. How dare he do this again, a clock counting down and everything on his terms?
"I've said them," the human Doctor cuts in. "I've said them all." He glares at the Time Lord, a short, pointed thing, and then his eyes dart to Rose, softer now, and worried.
The other Doctor swallows, Adam's apple bobbing, as the corners of his mouth turn down.
Well, no, this isn't what she wants either.
"He has," she confirms, and then ducks her head to catch his eye, smiling just a little. "An apology wouldn't go unheard though."
The Doctor's lips twitch, a smile to match her own, "Well then, Rose Tyler -- I'm sorry."
"And do you know what you're apologizing for?"
From the other end of the couch, her Doctor lets out a short bark of laughter, cutting it off when she raises an eyebrow at him.
"I do," the two-hearted Doctor says. "I do know. And I'm sorry."
There now, that's a bit better.
"So sorry?" She grins fully this time, teasing him as the tension in the air splinters and cracks.
"So sorry," he says.
"Great, that's all settled then," Rose nods, stuffing the rest of it down -- the matter is closed, as much as it'll ever be. "What'll we do now? Pop 'round to my mum's for tea?"
A look of horror spills over the Time Lord's face and she watches, amused, as he tugs at his ear and tries to fight it off.
"Well, if that's -- if that's what you want, sure, tea, with Jackie," he says. "Exactly what I want to do with my time in this universe. Love your mum, sounds brilliant."
She laughs, "Of course that's not what I want, you daft alien. Although, she had a few things to say to you, as well. Best take a second and imagine those, too."
The Time Lord Doctor shudders, meeting his duplicate's eye as he dips his head in confirmation. Rose imagines it as something like, yes, it was as terrible as you're imagining. Yes, my cheek still stings when the weather gets cold.
The looks between the two of them, though, not only now in the flat, but earlier, too, make her wonder.
Stumbling across their overgrown backyard -- he can handle the most esoteric technology Torchwood could ever hope to secure, but a simple Earth lawnmower eludes him every time -- there'd been a moment right as the TARDIS doors had opened. Her Doctor had stopped, before the flurry of noise and hands and get in here before the neighbors wake up, and met the other Doctor's eye.
It was like something passing between them, a whole conversation without words.
She's familiar with that, of course, with knowing another person well enough to fill in the gaps and the blanks, to predict and hold a dialogue in the space of a brief silence.
If you eat that, you'll get a stomach ache.
Five more minutes and we can go.
No, I'm not wearing knickers and the coat room is empty.
But this, between the Doctors, had seemed more somehow. Not only predicting, not only context, but more.
And now she wonders if they, too, have said all they need to say, and she just hasn't listened.
Couldn't listen.
She wants to confirm it, needs to make sure that whatever happens tonight, they make it about love and acceptance and peace, and not old wounds, however large the scars they'd left.
She slaps her hands to her thighs, breaking the silence, "And is there anything you two need to say to each other?"
The human Doctor tosses her a lopsided grin, like he knows exactly what she's doing. And he probably does.
There's an ongoing joke between them with her car -- how she's never sure it's locked until she clicks the remote and the horn chirps. He's explained a million times that the sound has nothing to do with actual lock, that they're separate functions and still, she listens every time. Still, she needs the noise.
The Time Lord Doctor taps his temple, "Think it's been said."
Her Doctor nods in agreement, but she wants to push it a little more, wants to know what that means. Is it telepathy, and they had talked?
Or being the same man, and not needing to?
She opens her mouth again, ready to plead for some clarity in the middle of murky waters, when there's a knock on the door.
The Time Lord Doctor raises his eyebrows and she can see the wheels spinning -- are they in the habit of guests at 11 at night?
"Just the pizza," her Doctor says, rising to get his wallet from its spot on the kitchen counter.
Rose had forgotten they'd even ordered it, out late babysitting Tony -- she'd called it in on the drive home. They had barely gotten through the door when they'd heard the TARDIS in the backyard.
A few minutes later and they're back in their original spots on the sofa, a cheese pizza giving off steam on the coffee table, and a pile of napkins beside it.
"Cheese? Plain cheese? Really?" The two-hearted Doctor is peering at the pizza like it's going to give a very boring lecture.
"Not everything has to be bells and whistles all the time, Doctor," Rose says, and leans forward to pull a slice away and onto a napkin. The cheese is too hot, slipping and stretching, and she catches it with her fingers, piling it back on the slice. There's still a thin thread of it, curled around her knuckle and, without thought, she darts the finger to her lips, sucking it into her mouth quickly.
When she looks back up, both Doctors are staring at her.
The Time Lord Doctor clears his throat, "Right, well, of course not, bells and whistles are hardly edible. Except on --"
"-- Refurlia V," her Doctor finishes. "You should see their sporting events, Rose. The entire planet nearly rioted during the World Cup -- the official took a snack break and ate his whistle. Couldn't make a proper call the rest of the match."
They continue like this, co-telling stories, through more than half the pizza. There's a switch at some point, where it becomes Rose and the human Doctor talking about Pete's World and their experiences here. The Time Lord Doctor listens on, something like jealousy occasionally stealing across his face before he smothers it down.
It makes Rose's stomach flip, she could never stand to see the Doctor in pain, either of them, but there's a small amount of pride, too. They've made a life here, a completely brilliant life, however it began, and it is something to be jealous of -- even without time and space at their disposal.
There had been nothing to drink in the house except beer and water, and as the room starts to grow warm, Rose collects the beer bottles from the table, returning with water for all of them.
Her Doctor is in the middle of a story, one of his favorites, about nicking Plondirian ink from the Torchwood vaults and convincing Jackie he'd taken Tony to get a tattoo. The ink had stayed on for days, her mum scrubbing away at Tony's forearm, as he and the Doctor giggled. The Doctor had finally given over the solvent a week later, when her mum grabbed him by the hair and announced she was cutting it in retribution.
"Had to give it up," the Doctor says. "My hair doesn't grow as fast now, couldn't take the risk."
Rose laughs, "What are you talking about? Your hair grows like a weed!"
The Doctor shrugs, "It used to be faster."
Rose is startled by this, something he'd clearly figured out, carried around with him, and never thought to share. She wonders how many other differences there are -- she knows about the big ones, of course, but it's still always a shock when she discovers the tiny things.
Six months ago, she came home to find him eating a pear and didn't know whether to laugh or cry. On the other hand, the first time he willingly put on a pair of jeans, they didn't leave the bedroom until the sun had risen. Even seeing him wear them tonight, and the striped jumper he's topped them off with, gives her a little thrill. She's fine with the differences, most of the time.
The Time Lord Doctor's thoughts must have taken a similar turn because he says, "Are there a lot of differences like that then?" He gestures to his chest, the right side, "Beyond the obvious, of course. Never been anything like this before, I'm curious."
Her Doctor shrugs again, "They sort of sneak up on you. Dental hygiene, for one. You know, you always hear how often humans need to brush their teeth, but it's another thing entirely when you're living it."
Rose leans to nudge the Time Lord Doctor, gesturing at the other, "You should smell the morning breath on this one."
The Doctor looks affronted, straightening his jumper, "Doesn't seem to stop you from kissing me, waking up all randy! What do you dream about exactly?"
She grins, bypassing the dream comment because he knows full well what her dreams are about, they'd broken the headboard just last week bringing one into reality. "Yeah, anywhere but the mouth! You think I found that spot on your neck on purpose? Pure luck, that. Just avoiding the odor."
The Time Lord's eyes have gone wide, hand tugging at his ear, awkward and nervous, "Yes, well, spot on your neck, there's another for the differences column."
Her Doctor leans forward abruptly, squinting at the other one, eyes fixed on his neck, "No, no, bet you've got that. Think it's a trick of this regeneration, not the human thing."
"I wouldn't know," the Time Lord Doctor says, and he stops fidgeting with his hand, dropping it gracelessly to his lap.
Rose starts to feel like she did right before dimension cannon jumps, the pins and needles of a limb asleep simmering under every inch of her skin. It was a sign that wherever she was going, she'd never been there before, and all she could do was hope she'd land somewhere safe.
"You still don't know?" Her Doctor says, as he settles back into the sofa cushions, but Rose can tell the ease of the movement is forced. He's undoubtedly invested in the answer.
"No, I still don't know. How could you think -- you should know," the Doctor stumbles through the sentence, picking up words and discarding them immediately. "It's not -- there hasn't been anyone else. There isn't anyone else."
It's Rose's turn to lean forward, as she shifts toward the two-hearted Doctor. "He told me about Donna, I'm sorry."
There's a moment of silence and then Rose presses on.
"But I thought you'd have found someone," she says. "Plenty of people out there that could use a good look at the stars."
He nearly winces, hand coming up to scratch at the back of his neck, "I've travelled with a few people, here and there, but I meant -- there hasn't been anyone I, well, I mean --"
From the other side of the sofa, her Doctor cuts in, "He means love, Rose."
Rose and the other Doctor turn toward him, heads swiveling in tandem, and then the Time Lord is stammering again.
"Yes, well, no one who might alert me to any, um, sensitive spots on my neck, at least," he says. "So, no, I don't know about that."
The words form so quickly, tumbling from Rose's mouth before she can stop them, "Would you like to?"
There's a moment of clarity where she can hear everything in the space it takes for him to respond -- a car driving by, the kitchen clock ticking, fat drops of rain beginning to fall outside, it's all so loud.
"Would I like to what?" The Time Lord Doctor says, and the other Doctor laughs.
It's an out, if she wants it, and she meets her Doctor's eye, weighing whether to take it. He gives her a small smile, an even smaller nod, and she feels her resolve solidify. They'd talked about it, of course -- late nights and dark bedrooms, whispers of would you ever with giggling confessions -- but here, in their living room, as what-ifs swim to life, she'd needed the confirmation.
"Would you like to know," and here she speaks slower, drawing out every word, "If you've got a spot on your neck that lights you up like a pinball machine?"
The Time Lord Doctor swallows, she sees the movement in his throat, "Well, what I want and what I get are usually two vastly different things."
Rose shifts, pulling up to kneel on the sofa and edge closer to him, "Not tonight. Tonight, if you want it, you can have it."
He moves toward her instinctively, his thigh pressing against her knee, before backing down.
"Doesn't it belong to someone else?" And his eyes dart across the sofa, to the human Doctor.
Rose deliberately switches pronouns, ducking down to catch his gaze, "She doesn't belong to anyone, Doctor."
He still looks unsure, but whether it's because he doesn't want to or because he feels he's not allowed, Rose can't tell.
But her Doctor has told her many times that the desire was never a question, it was always there, a steady current under every interaction. She just has to make him feel like he could, and like he should, let it surface.
The old, or rather, young, Rose Tyler dove into situations head first -- a pattern the Doctor reinforced, but this new Rose Tyler is strategic. Torchwood missions, family dinners, parallel universes, it's all about assessing the situation and overcoming it.
It's not the most romantic of seductions -- catalogue his anxieties and dismantle them -- but then, theirs was always a different sort of romance. Dates to watch her planet burn, chips, and a police box -- the courtship of a Time Lord.
"If you're worried about the Doctor," she finally says, "He'll tell you himself -- it's okay."
Her Doctor nods from the end of the sofa, addressing his duplicate, "You don't deserve it -- her -- I don't either. But she loves us anyway. And she's good, brilliant, in fact, at showing it. Let her show you."
There's the tiniest of movements from the two-hearted Doctor, a twitch of the head that could only generously be called a nod.
"I missed that -- did you say something?" She lets her tongue poke between her teeth on a grin, trying to put him at ease.
He nods again, more pronounced this time, "Yes."
"Yes you said something? Or yes you want --"
There's a chorus of her name, "Rose," the same inflection, the same voice, in stereo, and she can't help but grin again.
"Fantastic…" she moves forward, bracing her hand on the Time Lord's shoulder for leverage, "…is what you're going to be saying when I'm done. Knock you back a whole regeneration, this spot."
It's a bravado she doesn't quite feel, but he seems grateful, and returns it.
"We'll see about that, Rose Tyler. No human hormones weighting my dice," he says, and cuts a smirk toward her Doctor.
"Oh, we'll get to your dice, too. Don't you worry." And then she's moving closer, fingers sweeping into the hair at the base of his neck. It's soft here, no product like on top, and shorter than she's used to, but she finds purchase all the same, angling his head gently away to reveal his neck. She sweeps her thumb over the spot first, feeling the twin pulses rabbiting under the skin.
She moves slowly then, nudging against his ear with her nose. He smells almost the same as what she's used to, just a hint of spice, but there's something missing -- her Doctor smells a little bit sweet, too -- sweat and salt and warm human skin.
"Ready?" her voice is quiet, and she can feel the heat of her breath where it glances off his skin. He's slumped toward her, shoulders drooping, and they tense as she moves her lips to his neck.
There's an absence of taste, nothing she can describe, it's like a glass of water, and she opens her mouth to get more of it, lips moving against his skin. A few inches away she feels the motion of his Adam's apple bobbing, starkly apparent as he holds the rest of himself rigid. She tilts her head, repositioning her lips, nipping lightly at the skin before smoothing her tongue over it. His head drops further to the side at that, forcing her fingers deeper into his hair as she bears some of the weight.
She ties it all together then, kissing, sucking, licking, biting, and for a moment there's only the wet sounds of mouth against skin, and then finally, finally, he moans. A quiet thing, muffled by the way he's got his jaw clamped shut, but it's there, and she wants to hear it again.
Moving her lips slowly, she kisses away from his pulse up to the corner of his jaw, and then his earlobe. She runs her tongue lightly along the edge of it and then back to the pressure point behind it as he shudders, hand jerking up to clutch at her waist. His fingers fist into the cotton of blouse as she traces her tongue back to his jaw, pressing one final, wet kiss to to the underside before pulling away.
It's not worth pretending that she's unaffected, her entire body feels flushed, something fizzing and warm slipping through her veins, and she's panting lightly. Tilting his head with her hand, she moves to catch his eye. His eyelids are sagging, jaw finally slack, and she gives him a tentative smile.
"Well?"
He loosens his fingers from her shirt, and the fabric sticks to his skin lightly as he pulls his hand away, dropping his gaze to watch as he smooths his hand over his thigh.
"Well, we --" and he clears his throat, straightening in his seat as she shifts back to her own. "-- we can move that one to the similarities column." He ducks his head, a small grin on his lips as he looks up at her. It's endearing, the way he seems almost shy to have enjoyed it.
The same voice, but from across the sofa this time, "I'll say, you don't look half stupid over there. Rose, you can tell me, I look sexier, don't I? None of this cough syrup smile and droopy eyes. Seriously, pull yourself together, mate. You look drunk."
The Time Lord Doctor straightens immediately, eyes suddenly clear and focused on his duplicate, "The TARDIS."
Rose answers at the same time as the human Doctor, "What?"
"The TARDIS," he says again. "I'll bet you the TARDIS you look every bit as daft, when she does that to you."
The agreement comes immediately, head moving in an exaggerated nod, "You're on, and you're going to lose. Plenty of practice, we've done this three times already today. I'll barely even blink."
Rose raises her eyebrows -- three times? -- and he waves her off, "Come here, Rose, let's win ourselves my ship."
There's a tiny, hopeful part of her that imagines they will -- that they'll get the TARDIS and set off on adventures, but she forces it down. Not only will her Doctor undoubtedly make the same face, but the TARDIS is all the other Doctor has. They've got each other.
Although, without the TARDIS, he'd have to stay with them -- no. No.
She scoots down the sofa, mirroring her former position with the other Doctor.
"Ready?" She says again, and the cheeky grin she gets in response makes her stomach flip just the same.
"Wait, wait," the two-hearted Doctor cuts in, standing and sitting back down on the edge of the coffee table, his legs nearly brushing his duplicate's where he sits on the sofa. "I needed to move closer. No going easy on him, I'll be watching for --" he waves his hand in front of his mouth,"-- tongue and things."
Rose salutes, "No mercy," and she ducks her head to the Doctor's neck, mimicking her earlier pattern, lips, mouth, tongue, teeth, all the same path, all the same responses. When she finally pulls back, she has to laugh, it's an identical expression, right down to one eyelid drooping just a bit lower than the other.
Her Doctor startles at the sound and takes in the both of them grinning at him, "What? No, no, oh, come on," he scrubs at his face with his hand before glaring at Rose. "You couldn't have eased up just little?"
She shakes her head in mock seriousness as she shifts to drop her legs back down to the floor, "Had to be done."
They're all sitting so closely now, knees bumping, and when her Doctor speaks again, his voice is noticeably lower.
"All right," he says. "Double or nothing."
The other Doctor tilts his head, pretending to consider, "I'm listening."
"I bet I can make Rose look more like that," he shoves a finger in the Time Lord's face, waggling it in a circle, "Than you can."
The Time Lord laughs, "How is that double? You don't have a TARDIS to offer." He seems to regret the words as soon as they've left his mouth, but her Doctor pushes by it.
"No, but I've got a freezer full of banana ice lollies, out in the garage. I'll drag it into the TARDIS myself, if you win."
It's insane, and hardly a comparison to the TARDIS, but it seems like an understanding has been reached, Rose can feel it, it's what they all want -- have always wanted -- and her Doctor's just come up with a convenient excuse.
"You're on," the two-hearted Doctor says. "Rose, you in?"
She forces herself to pause, to not admit how much the idea intrigues her, the man she loves, the men she loves, trying to best each other at turning her on.
"Sure, why not?"
Her Doctor nods, "Brilliant, now, this is my home -- our home -- and I know the polite thing to do is to let the guest go first, but I think we all know how rude I am. So, step aside, and I'll show you how it's done."
There's another look between the Doctors, but Rose doesn't need a map for this one -- he really is showing him how it's done, evening up the playing field, as it were.
"Shall we say 30 seconds?" The human Doctor asks, and she and the other Doctor agree. The Doctor who's done this before shifts into position, making a show of shaking out his neck muscles, his hands, "And -- go."
Before Rose can catch up, her Doctor has cupped her face, swooping his head so his lips can meet hers. Without preamble, his mouth opens, nipping lightly at her bottom lip as she opens underneath him. He slows the pace, tongue snaking out to slide alongside hers, and she's not clear on the rules, whether she's meant to participate, but it's reflex to wind her arms around his neck, fingers twining into his hair.
Without breaking the kiss, the Doctor leans forward, forcing her to recline into the sofa, as he moves a hand from her face to lightly scratch down her neck. She tilts into the movement, pulling her mouth from his. He replaces his fingers with his lips then, dropping his hand to undo a button on her shirt before continuing to kiss along her throat, nudging fabric aside with his nose before sucking lightly at the join of her shoulder and neck.
She arches up at the feeling, as he begins to assert more pressure. He meets the movement at her breast, palming her firmly, before he slides his thumb across her nipple and she sucks in a breath through her teeth. One hand still in his hair, she keeps him pressed to the spot, as her other hand scrambles for purchase on his shoulder, fingers digging into the muscles there. She shifts to move back, wanting to pull him down on top of her more fully, and he's just leaning toward her when a voice breaks them apart.
"Time!" The other Doctor's voice sounds strained, the words forced out, and when she looks at him, his pupils are wide, his cheeks pink.
PART 2/2
fandom: Doctor Who.
pairing: Ten/TenToo/Rose, together.
rating: Adult.
words: 4,683, this part; 9,839 total.
notes: This was written for the time_and_chips 2012 Advent Calendar, and is actually already complete, part 2 follows on right after, I was just hampered by lj's character limit. Thank you to gallifreyburning and winterinthetardis for reading this over, and assuring me I wasn't a million miles off-base.
summary/intro: The metaphor extends, the needle tripping ever closer to the end of the disc, and he’ll need to go back to that other universe once it’s played through.
Follow the cut!
The science of it is lost on her.
There's an explanation they both try, something about a record and a needle and how even played incorrectly, the instructions for the music are still on the vinyl. The TARDIS found the groove, they tell her. And some warped and backward symphony lands the Doctor -- the two-hearted one -- back in Pete's World.
The metaphor extends, the needle tripping ever closer to the end of the disc, and he'll need to go back to that other universe once it's played through.
It's that part that she understands -- this is temporary, and a mistake, and she should enjoy it while it lasts.
And she would, if only they'd let her.
The words explode from her Doctor almost as soon as they're seated in the living room. A babble, a tirade, and a thank you all wrapped up into something she's definitely heard before.
"Thought you'd stay as far from us as possible, if you ever made it back here," the half-human Doctor says. "All that blood and anger and revenge flying around, a Time Lord could get himself hurt."
There's more to this speech, she knows, and he's got his mouth open to give it, but a look passes between the two Doctors and instead the other speaks.
"Yes, I could," he says and he's looking right at Rose.
She thinks about her own speech, the things she's rehearsed, things she's said to this human him, misdirected and properly directed and she just -- lets it go.
"I don't want to do this," she says, and they both look at her, twin sets of wide eyes from either direction.
There's only the one place to sit in the room, a big sectional sofa, and they've all staked out a portion, everybody on their own cushion, everybody with their own turf. And it's not what she wants out of this night.
She doesn't know what, exactly, she does want, only that it's not this tension and anger -- because she's not angry anymore, not really. Neither of them are. Too busy being happy for that.
Or, when there is anger now, it's so much more domestic. Fights about the laundry, and forgotten bills, which one of them brought that hacking flu into the flat first, why it isn't appropriate for him to sign Tony out of school for a field trip to the planetarium -- even if she meets them there, and they discover a star.
There'd been the old sort of anger for too long, shouting matches about making decisions for her, nights where he slept on this very sofa, cup after cup of tea and sympathy at her mum's, and she'd put it to rest.
They'd put it to rest.
"I've told the Doctor," she gestures to the end of the sofa, where the human one sits. "I've said everything I need to say. And you know what? It wasn't a surprise to him, any of it. So," this time she gestures to the Time Lord, "You just take a moment, you imagine what I'd say to you, and we move on."
He nods, and leaves his head bowed, staring at a corner of the coffee table for a few long moments before speaking again.
"What if there are things I need to say to you?"
There's a spike of heat in her chest, a burning sort of fury. How dare he do this again, a clock counting down and everything on his terms?
"I've said them," the human Doctor cuts in. "I've said them all." He glares at the Time Lord, a short, pointed thing, and then his eyes dart to Rose, softer now, and worried.
The other Doctor swallows, Adam's apple bobbing, as the corners of his mouth turn down.
Well, no, this isn't what she wants either.
"He has," she confirms, and then ducks her head to catch his eye, smiling just a little. "An apology wouldn't go unheard though."
The Doctor's lips twitch, a smile to match her own, "Well then, Rose Tyler -- I'm sorry."
"And do you know what you're apologizing for?"
From the other end of the couch, her Doctor lets out a short bark of laughter, cutting it off when she raises an eyebrow at him.
"I do," the two-hearted Doctor says. "I do know. And I'm sorry."
There now, that's a bit better.
"So sorry?" She grins fully this time, teasing him as the tension in the air splinters and cracks.
"So sorry," he says.
"Great, that's all settled then," Rose nods, stuffing the rest of it down -- the matter is closed, as much as it'll ever be. "What'll we do now? Pop 'round to my mum's for tea?"
A look of horror spills over the Time Lord's face and she watches, amused, as he tugs at his ear and tries to fight it off.
"Well, if that's -- if that's what you want, sure, tea, with Jackie," he says. "Exactly what I want to do with my time in this universe. Love your mum, sounds brilliant."
She laughs, "Of course that's not what I want, you daft alien. Although, she had a few things to say to you, as well. Best take a second and imagine those, too."
The Time Lord Doctor shudders, meeting his duplicate's eye as he dips his head in confirmation. Rose imagines it as something like, yes, it was as terrible as you're imagining. Yes, my cheek still stings when the weather gets cold.
The looks between the two of them, though, not only now in the flat, but earlier, too, make her wonder.
Stumbling across their overgrown backyard -- he can handle the most esoteric technology Torchwood could ever hope to secure, but a simple Earth lawnmower eludes him every time -- there'd been a moment right as the TARDIS doors had opened. Her Doctor had stopped, before the flurry of noise and hands and get in here before the neighbors wake up, and met the other Doctor's eye.
It was like something passing between them, a whole conversation without words.
She's familiar with that, of course, with knowing another person well enough to fill in the gaps and the blanks, to predict and hold a dialogue in the space of a brief silence.
If you eat that, you'll get a stomach ache.
Five more minutes and we can go.
No, I'm not wearing knickers and the coat room is empty.
But this, between the Doctors, had seemed more somehow. Not only predicting, not only context, but more.
And now she wonders if they, too, have said all they need to say, and she just hasn't listened.
Couldn't listen.
She wants to confirm it, needs to make sure that whatever happens tonight, they make it about love and acceptance and peace, and not old wounds, however large the scars they'd left.
She slaps her hands to her thighs, breaking the silence, "And is there anything you two need to say to each other?"
The human Doctor tosses her a lopsided grin, like he knows exactly what she's doing. And he probably does.
There's an ongoing joke between them with her car -- how she's never sure it's locked until she clicks the remote and the horn chirps. He's explained a million times that the sound has nothing to do with actual lock, that they're separate functions and still, she listens every time. Still, she needs the noise.
The Time Lord Doctor taps his temple, "Think it's been said."
Her Doctor nods in agreement, but she wants to push it a little more, wants to know what that means. Is it telepathy, and they had talked?
Or being the same man, and not needing to?
She opens her mouth again, ready to plead for some clarity in the middle of murky waters, when there's a knock on the door.
The Time Lord Doctor raises his eyebrows and she can see the wheels spinning -- are they in the habit of guests at 11 at night?
"Just the pizza," her Doctor says, rising to get his wallet from its spot on the kitchen counter.
Rose had forgotten they'd even ordered it, out late babysitting Tony -- she'd called it in on the drive home. They had barely gotten through the door when they'd heard the TARDIS in the backyard.
A few minutes later and they're back in their original spots on the sofa, a cheese pizza giving off steam on the coffee table, and a pile of napkins beside it.
"Cheese? Plain cheese? Really?" The two-hearted Doctor is peering at the pizza like it's going to give a very boring lecture.
"Not everything has to be bells and whistles all the time, Doctor," Rose says, and leans forward to pull a slice away and onto a napkin. The cheese is too hot, slipping and stretching, and she catches it with her fingers, piling it back on the slice. There's still a thin thread of it, curled around her knuckle and, without thought, she darts the finger to her lips, sucking it into her mouth quickly.
When she looks back up, both Doctors are staring at her.
The Time Lord Doctor clears his throat, "Right, well, of course not, bells and whistles are hardly edible. Except on --"
"-- Refurlia V," her Doctor finishes. "You should see their sporting events, Rose. The entire planet nearly rioted during the World Cup -- the official took a snack break and ate his whistle. Couldn't make a proper call the rest of the match."
They continue like this, co-telling stories, through more than half the pizza. There's a switch at some point, where it becomes Rose and the human Doctor talking about Pete's World and their experiences here. The Time Lord Doctor listens on, something like jealousy occasionally stealing across his face before he smothers it down.
It makes Rose's stomach flip, she could never stand to see the Doctor in pain, either of them, but there's a small amount of pride, too. They've made a life here, a completely brilliant life, however it began, and it is something to be jealous of -- even without time and space at their disposal.
There had been nothing to drink in the house except beer and water, and as the room starts to grow warm, Rose collects the beer bottles from the table, returning with water for all of them.
Her Doctor is in the middle of a story, one of his favorites, about nicking Plondirian ink from the Torchwood vaults and convincing Jackie he'd taken Tony to get a tattoo. The ink had stayed on for days, her mum scrubbing away at Tony's forearm, as he and the Doctor giggled. The Doctor had finally given over the solvent a week later, when her mum grabbed him by the hair and announced she was cutting it in retribution.
"Had to give it up," the Doctor says. "My hair doesn't grow as fast now, couldn't take the risk."
Rose laughs, "What are you talking about? Your hair grows like a weed!"
The Doctor shrugs, "It used to be faster."
Rose is startled by this, something he'd clearly figured out, carried around with him, and never thought to share. She wonders how many other differences there are -- she knows about the big ones, of course, but it's still always a shock when she discovers the tiny things.
Six months ago, she came home to find him eating a pear and didn't know whether to laugh or cry. On the other hand, the first time he willingly put on a pair of jeans, they didn't leave the bedroom until the sun had risen. Even seeing him wear them tonight, and the striped jumper he's topped them off with, gives her a little thrill. She's fine with the differences, most of the time.
The Time Lord Doctor's thoughts must have taken a similar turn because he says, "Are there a lot of differences like that then?" He gestures to his chest, the right side, "Beyond the obvious, of course. Never been anything like this before, I'm curious."
Her Doctor shrugs again, "They sort of sneak up on you. Dental hygiene, for one. You know, you always hear how often humans need to brush their teeth, but it's another thing entirely when you're living it."
Rose leans to nudge the Time Lord Doctor, gesturing at the other, "You should smell the morning breath on this one."
The Doctor looks affronted, straightening his jumper, "Doesn't seem to stop you from kissing me, waking up all randy! What do you dream about exactly?"
She grins, bypassing the dream comment because he knows full well what her dreams are about, they'd broken the headboard just last week bringing one into reality. "Yeah, anywhere but the mouth! You think I found that spot on your neck on purpose? Pure luck, that. Just avoiding the odor."
The Time Lord's eyes have gone wide, hand tugging at his ear, awkward and nervous, "Yes, well, spot on your neck, there's another for the differences column."
Her Doctor leans forward abruptly, squinting at the other one, eyes fixed on his neck, "No, no, bet you've got that. Think it's a trick of this regeneration, not the human thing."
"I wouldn't know," the Time Lord Doctor says, and he stops fidgeting with his hand, dropping it gracelessly to his lap.
Rose starts to feel like she did right before dimension cannon jumps, the pins and needles of a limb asleep simmering under every inch of her skin. It was a sign that wherever she was going, she'd never been there before, and all she could do was hope she'd land somewhere safe.
"You still don't know?" Her Doctor says, as he settles back into the sofa cushions, but Rose can tell the ease of the movement is forced. He's undoubtedly invested in the answer.
"No, I still don't know. How could you think -- you should know," the Doctor stumbles through the sentence, picking up words and discarding them immediately. "It's not -- there hasn't been anyone else. There isn't anyone else."
It's Rose's turn to lean forward, as she shifts toward the two-hearted Doctor. "He told me about Donna, I'm sorry."
There's a moment of silence and then Rose presses on.
"But I thought you'd have found someone," she says. "Plenty of people out there that could use a good look at the stars."
He nearly winces, hand coming up to scratch at the back of his neck, "I've travelled with a few people, here and there, but I meant -- there hasn't been anyone I, well, I mean --"
From the other side of the sofa, her Doctor cuts in, "He means love, Rose."
Rose and the other Doctor turn toward him, heads swiveling in tandem, and then the Time Lord is stammering again.
"Yes, well, no one who might alert me to any, um, sensitive spots on my neck, at least," he says. "So, no, I don't know about that."
The words form so quickly, tumbling from Rose's mouth before she can stop them, "Would you like to?"
There's a moment of clarity where she can hear everything in the space it takes for him to respond -- a car driving by, the kitchen clock ticking, fat drops of rain beginning to fall outside, it's all so loud.
"Would I like to what?" The Time Lord Doctor says, and the other Doctor laughs.
It's an out, if she wants it, and she meets her Doctor's eye, weighing whether to take it. He gives her a small smile, an even smaller nod, and she feels her resolve solidify. They'd talked about it, of course -- late nights and dark bedrooms, whispers of would you ever with giggling confessions -- but here, in their living room, as what-ifs swim to life, she'd needed the confirmation.
"Would you like to know," and here she speaks slower, drawing out every word, "If you've got a spot on your neck that lights you up like a pinball machine?"
The Time Lord Doctor swallows, she sees the movement in his throat, "Well, what I want and what I get are usually two vastly different things."
Rose shifts, pulling up to kneel on the sofa and edge closer to him, "Not tonight. Tonight, if you want it, you can have it."
He moves toward her instinctively, his thigh pressing against her knee, before backing down.
"Doesn't it belong to someone else?" And his eyes dart across the sofa, to the human Doctor.
Rose deliberately switches pronouns, ducking down to catch his gaze, "She doesn't belong to anyone, Doctor."
He still looks unsure, but whether it's because he doesn't want to or because he feels he's not allowed, Rose can't tell.
But her Doctor has told her many times that the desire was never a question, it was always there, a steady current under every interaction. She just has to make him feel like he could, and like he should, let it surface.
The old, or rather, young, Rose Tyler dove into situations head first -- a pattern the Doctor reinforced, but this new Rose Tyler is strategic. Torchwood missions, family dinners, parallel universes, it's all about assessing the situation and overcoming it.
It's not the most romantic of seductions -- catalogue his anxieties and dismantle them -- but then, theirs was always a different sort of romance. Dates to watch her planet burn, chips, and a police box -- the courtship of a Time Lord.
"If you're worried about the Doctor," she finally says, "He'll tell you himself -- it's okay."
Her Doctor nods from the end of the sofa, addressing his duplicate, "You don't deserve it -- her -- I don't either. But she loves us anyway. And she's good, brilliant, in fact, at showing it. Let her show you."
There's the tiniest of movements from the two-hearted Doctor, a twitch of the head that could only generously be called a nod.
"I missed that -- did you say something?" She lets her tongue poke between her teeth on a grin, trying to put him at ease.
He nods again, more pronounced this time, "Yes."
"Yes you said something? Or yes you want --"
There's a chorus of her name, "Rose," the same inflection, the same voice, in stereo, and she can't help but grin again.
"Fantastic…" she moves forward, bracing her hand on the Time Lord's shoulder for leverage, "…is what you're going to be saying when I'm done. Knock you back a whole regeneration, this spot."
It's a bravado she doesn't quite feel, but he seems grateful, and returns it.
"We'll see about that, Rose Tyler. No human hormones weighting my dice," he says, and cuts a smirk toward her Doctor.
"Oh, we'll get to your dice, too. Don't you worry." And then she's moving closer, fingers sweeping into the hair at the base of his neck. It's soft here, no product like on top, and shorter than she's used to, but she finds purchase all the same, angling his head gently away to reveal his neck. She sweeps her thumb over the spot first, feeling the twin pulses rabbiting under the skin.
She moves slowly then, nudging against his ear with her nose. He smells almost the same as what she's used to, just a hint of spice, but there's something missing -- her Doctor smells a little bit sweet, too -- sweat and salt and warm human skin.
"Ready?" her voice is quiet, and she can feel the heat of her breath where it glances off his skin. He's slumped toward her, shoulders drooping, and they tense as she moves her lips to his neck.
There's an absence of taste, nothing she can describe, it's like a glass of water, and she opens her mouth to get more of it, lips moving against his skin. A few inches away she feels the motion of his Adam's apple bobbing, starkly apparent as he holds the rest of himself rigid. She tilts her head, repositioning her lips, nipping lightly at the skin before smoothing her tongue over it. His head drops further to the side at that, forcing her fingers deeper into his hair as she bears some of the weight.
She ties it all together then, kissing, sucking, licking, biting, and for a moment there's only the wet sounds of mouth against skin, and then finally, finally, he moans. A quiet thing, muffled by the way he's got his jaw clamped shut, but it's there, and she wants to hear it again.
Moving her lips slowly, she kisses away from his pulse up to the corner of his jaw, and then his earlobe. She runs her tongue lightly along the edge of it and then back to the pressure point behind it as he shudders, hand jerking up to clutch at her waist. His fingers fist into the cotton of blouse as she traces her tongue back to his jaw, pressing one final, wet kiss to to the underside before pulling away.
It's not worth pretending that she's unaffected, her entire body feels flushed, something fizzing and warm slipping through her veins, and she's panting lightly. Tilting his head with her hand, she moves to catch his eye. His eyelids are sagging, jaw finally slack, and she gives him a tentative smile.
"Well?"
He loosens his fingers from her shirt, and the fabric sticks to his skin lightly as he pulls his hand away, dropping his gaze to watch as he smooths his hand over his thigh.
"Well, we --" and he clears his throat, straightening in his seat as she shifts back to her own. "-- we can move that one to the similarities column." He ducks his head, a small grin on his lips as he looks up at her. It's endearing, the way he seems almost shy to have enjoyed it.
The same voice, but from across the sofa this time, "I'll say, you don't look half stupid over there. Rose, you can tell me, I look sexier, don't I? None of this cough syrup smile and droopy eyes. Seriously, pull yourself together, mate. You look drunk."
The Time Lord Doctor straightens immediately, eyes suddenly clear and focused on his duplicate, "The TARDIS."
Rose answers at the same time as the human Doctor, "What?"
"The TARDIS," he says again. "I'll bet you the TARDIS you look every bit as daft, when she does that to you."
The agreement comes immediately, head moving in an exaggerated nod, "You're on, and you're going to lose. Plenty of practice, we've done this three times already today. I'll barely even blink."
Rose raises her eyebrows -- three times? -- and he waves her off, "Come here, Rose, let's win ourselves my ship."
There's a tiny, hopeful part of her that imagines they will -- that they'll get the TARDIS and set off on adventures, but she forces it down. Not only will her Doctor undoubtedly make the same face, but the TARDIS is all the other Doctor has. They've got each other.
Although, without the TARDIS, he'd have to stay with them -- no. No.
She scoots down the sofa, mirroring her former position with the other Doctor.
"Ready?" She says again, and the cheeky grin she gets in response makes her stomach flip just the same.
"Wait, wait," the two-hearted Doctor cuts in, standing and sitting back down on the edge of the coffee table, his legs nearly brushing his duplicate's where he sits on the sofa. "I needed to move closer. No going easy on him, I'll be watching for --" he waves his hand in front of his mouth,"-- tongue and things."
Rose salutes, "No mercy," and she ducks her head to the Doctor's neck, mimicking her earlier pattern, lips, mouth, tongue, teeth, all the same path, all the same responses. When she finally pulls back, she has to laugh, it's an identical expression, right down to one eyelid drooping just a bit lower than the other.
Her Doctor startles at the sound and takes in the both of them grinning at him, "What? No, no, oh, come on," he scrubs at his face with his hand before glaring at Rose. "You couldn't have eased up just little?"
She shakes her head in mock seriousness as she shifts to drop her legs back down to the floor, "Had to be done."
They're all sitting so closely now, knees bumping, and when her Doctor speaks again, his voice is noticeably lower.
"All right," he says. "Double or nothing."
The other Doctor tilts his head, pretending to consider, "I'm listening."
"I bet I can make Rose look more like that," he shoves a finger in the Time Lord's face, waggling it in a circle, "Than you can."
The Time Lord laughs, "How is that double? You don't have a TARDIS to offer." He seems to regret the words as soon as they've left his mouth, but her Doctor pushes by it.
"No, but I've got a freezer full of banana ice lollies, out in the garage. I'll drag it into the TARDIS myself, if you win."
It's insane, and hardly a comparison to the TARDIS, but it seems like an understanding has been reached, Rose can feel it, it's what they all want -- have always wanted -- and her Doctor's just come up with a convenient excuse.
"You're on," the two-hearted Doctor says. "Rose, you in?"
She forces herself to pause, to not admit how much the idea intrigues her, the man she loves, the men she loves, trying to best each other at turning her on.
"Sure, why not?"
Her Doctor nods, "Brilliant, now, this is my home -- our home -- and I know the polite thing to do is to let the guest go first, but I think we all know how rude I am. So, step aside, and I'll show you how it's done."
There's another look between the Doctors, but Rose doesn't need a map for this one -- he really is showing him how it's done, evening up the playing field, as it were.
"Shall we say 30 seconds?" The human Doctor asks, and she and the other Doctor agree. The Doctor who's done this before shifts into position, making a show of shaking out his neck muscles, his hands, "And -- go."
Before Rose can catch up, her Doctor has cupped her face, swooping his head so his lips can meet hers. Without preamble, his mouth opens, nipping lightly at her bottom lip as she opens underneath him. He slows the pace, tongue snaking out to slide alongside hers, and she's not clear on the rules, whether she's meant to participate, but it's reflex to wind her arms around his neck, fingers twining into his hair.
Without breaking the kiss, the Doctor leans forward, forcing her to recline into the sofa, as he moves a hand from her face to lightly scratch down her neck. She tilts into the movement, pulling her mouth from his. He replaces his fingers with his lips then, dropping his hand to undo a button on her shirt before continuing to kiss along her throat, nudging fabric aside with his nose before sucking lightly at the join of her shoulder and neck.
She arches up at the feeling, as he begins to assert more pressure. He meets the movement at her breast, palming her firmly, before he slides his thumb across her nipple and she sucks in a breath through her teeth. One hand still in his hair, she keeps him pressed to the spot, as her other hand scrambles for purchase on his shoulder, fingers digging into the muscles there. She shifts to move back, wanting to pull him down on top of her more fully, and he's just leaning toward her when a voice breaks them apart.
"Time!" The other Doctor's voice sounds strained, the words forced out, and when she looks at him, his pupils are wide, his cheeks pink.
PART 2/2