Fact: Do I dare disturb the universe?
Um, instead of writing about Richard Sorge, I wrote this. svilleficrecs deserved something for all that ahemcrack she's been dealing lately, even if it is, uh, not quite what I promised. (Guys, I don't care, since when did I write this much?)
I don't know if I did this right or not. OHNOZ WHO FIC.
TITLE: Decisions and Revisions
AUTHOR: daygloparker
FANDOM: Doctor Who
PAIRING/CHARACTER: Ten/Rose
SPOILERS: Post-"New Earth," and slightly for "Tooth and Claw"
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: "This game is new, and she can't possibly choose among the millennia."
---
The party lights fade.
"Your turn," the Doctor announces. He tells her they can go wherever she wants.
Rose remembers Cassandra's mind in her body and is suddenly very aware of herself and her space. "I wanna go dancing," she says with a smile. This game is new, and she can't possibly choose among the millennia.
So she lets him decide for her.
*
They're in a dim club, hanging in the back, and it's all very glamorous London in 1939. In here there is barely a hint of the impending war. Instead, there's a band and a singer and a haze of smoke everywhere; women in sequined dresses smoking cigarettes and men in tuxedos with loosen ties and some without jackets at all. Pairs of shimmying bodies on the spotlighted dance floor, all moving with just a touch of intoxication.
"Aren't we ever going to go someplace different?"
The Doctor glances at her sideways. "You want to leave?"
"No," she replies quickly. A hand smoothes an invisible crease from her dress, which doesn't exactly fit properly. "Just curious."
He is suddenly reaching for her hand. "These are our greatest hits, Rose!" and before she can react he's got her by the hand and they're standing very close together with his other hand on the small of her back, just below where her dress dips down her back. "Besides, I can dance, remember."
Yes. She remembers.
When he spins her out, she laughs, and when he pulls her back she is still laughing but also this time breathing very close to his ear. His hand is positioned lower on her back, too, almost indecently, but he either doesn't notice or doesn't care. Except now Rose is very aware of herself and her space, because her entire body is tingling and alive as a result of it.
They are dancing a very loose waltz with their fingers tangled together and resting slightly on the Doctor's shoulder. Pressed together by the necessity of the step. Pressed quietly closely together. When they move it is not like before, maybe because the floor is not the TARDIS and maybe because he has new legs, a different center of gravity. She finds it easier to match.
Rose watches the crowd over his shoulder, moving now almost as slowly as they are, and when she looks back at him, he is always smiling at her. Watching her. She finds herself only able to hold his gaze for a couple seconds. She is always aware of the hand that's still on her back.
"Alien," the Doctor says suddenly.
"Huh?"
The Doctor points discreetly to a middle-aged man with a bald spot on his head, leaning over a very younger woman. "He's an alien."
"No!"
He tilts his head at her. "Rose Tyler, are you calling me a liar?"
And then, for no reason, her voice changes and she blurts out, "I'm sorry."
He doesn't stop them moving. "For that?"
"For," she glances nervously at the crowd again, "For... you know." And of course she is referring to when she wasn't in control of her own body and it kissed him and, really, she's not entirely sure why she needs to apologize for that, but she does anyway.
The Doctor's smile is warm. "Oh, I've forgotten that already," which Rose supposes he means as a reassurance to her that he's not holding it against her, and maybe it is, slightly, except she can't quite shake the sound of his voice (well, sort of) reminding her how much she hadn't minded Cassandra's boldness in the first place.
The tempo shifts to something faster, a foxtrot. She forgets everything for a moment.
*
It's a crisp autumn night and there's a siren going off in the distance. Rose walks with her hand in the Doctor's arm, nodding to well-dressed pedestrians and still amazed that they fit in completely.
The second club is different: brighter, bigger, more alive; less champagne cocktail and more glasses with cheap dark liquids and ice cubes that clank along to the rhythm of faster music. Here they squeeze onto a crowded dance floor rather than hanging in the shadows and they move so fast that Rose can feel her feet aching after a while and the sweat building underneath the unbreathable fabric of her dress. But they still swing and dance and laugh and spin, and when they are pressed together and clinging to one another, it's hardly intimate since they're surrounded by more three dozen other couples. In a lull she pins her hair up to keep it off her neck and he is watching her intently the entire time.
The night ends when a fight breaks out in the back and there are policemen yelling for everyone to leave. Rose and the Doctor stumble down the sidewalk in fits of laughter and Rose's head is occasionally buried in the Doctor's chest to prevent her from waking half of the city, and those same well-dressed pedestrians are now staring at them with blatant disapproval.
Which, of course, only makes them laugh harder.
Her skin is prickling in the cool air, and when the Doctor puts an arm around her to pull her close to him, it prickles for a very different reason.
*
In the square where they parked the TARDIS, they sit on a bench and the Doctor names the constellations in his language. Except Rose is sure that he's just teasing her, because not even a race of a 900-year-old time traveling aliens could name something The Dancing Goat.
He is staring upwards (clear sky, new stars) and she is watching him, when she says again, "I'm really am sorry."
The Doctor replies, with his head still in the sky, "Not your fault."
Without thinking she kisses him lightly on the cheek. It's brief and it's chaste, except she also wants to run her hand through his hair, and for half a second she almost wishes it would have been one of those nicely timed moments when he turns his head just as she leans into him and she ends up kissing his lips instead.
They stare at one another.
"Rose," the Doctor whispers, but he says nothing else. There is a breeze then, and she is chilled despite the Doctor's jacket draped over her shoulders.
Cassandra kissed the Doctor desperately, messily, but Rose kisses him with surprising tenderness and maturity. He doesn't even kiss her back, not at first, as if he's not sure that he should, and though it wasn't even her she can still feel the memory of his body trying to pull back from hers on New Earth.
And then a hand comes to the side of her face and she sighs and he's kissing her back, tasting like a bit of brandy and something sweet. His hands moves down her collarbone, underneath his own jacket, and down around the curve of her shoulder. Her own fingers are clutching his tie, keeping him close.
It's over, then, just like that.
Rose is still holding onto his tie, breathing heavily and able to see it in the space between them.
She just wanted to go dancing. So she let him decide for her.
*
In the morning he is on his back beneath the TARDIS console, humming Glenn Miller and tapping one foot.
He asks her if she still wants to dance, and when she agrees, he tells her that she's going to need to change.
I don't know if I did this right or not. OHNOZ WHO FIC.
TITLE: Decisions and Revisions
AUTHOR: daygloparker
FANDOM: Doctor Who
PAIRING/CHARACTER: Ten/Rose
SPOILERS: Post-"New Earth," and slightly for "Tooth and Claw"
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: "This game is new, and she can't possibly choose among the millennia."
---
The party lights fade.
"Your turn," the Doctor announces. He tells her they can go wherever she wants.
Rose remembers Cassandra's mind in her body and is suddenly very aware of herself and her space. "I wanna go dancing," she says with a smile. This game is new, and she can't possibly choose among the millennia.
So she lets him decide for her.
*
They're in a dim club, hanging in the back, and it's all very glamorous London in 1939. In here there is barely a hint of the impending war. Instead, there's a band and a singer and a haze of smoke everywhere; women in sequined dresses smoking cigarettes and men in tuxedos with loosen ties and some without jackets at all. Pairs of shimmying bodies on the spotlighted dance floor, all moving with just a touch of intoxication.
"Aren't we ever going to go someplace different?"
The Doctor glances at her sideways. "You want to leave?"
"No," she replies quickly. A hand smoothes an invisible crease from her dress, which doesn't exactly fit properly. "Just curious."
He is suddenly reaching for her hand. "These are our greatest hits, Rose!" and before she can react he's got her by the hand and they're standing very close together with his other hand on the small of her back, just below where her dress dips down her back. "Besides, I can dance, remember."
Yes. She remembers.
When he spins her out, she laughs, and when he pulls her back she is still laughing but also this time breathing very close to his ear. His hand is positioned lower on her back, too, almost indecently, but he either doesn't notice or doesn't care. Except now Rose is very aware of herself and her space, because her entire body is tingling and alive as a result of it.
They are dancing a very loose waltz with their fingers tangled together and resting slightly on the Doctor's shoulder. Pressed together by the necessity of the step. Pressed quietly closely together. When they move it is not like before, maybe because the floor is not the TARDIS and maybe because he has new legs, a different center of gravity. She finds it easier to match.
Rose watches the crowd over his shoulder, moving now almost as slowly as they are, and when she looks back at him, he is always smiling at her. Watching her. She finds herself only able to hold his gaze for a couple seconds. She is always aware of the hand that's still on her back.
"Alien," the Doctor says suddenly.
"Huh?"
The Doctor points discreetly to a middle-aged man with a bald spot on his head, leaning over a very younger woman. "He's an alien."
"No!"
He tilts his head at her. "Rose Tyler, are you calling me a liar?"
And then, for no reason, her voice changes and she blurts out, "I'm sorry."
He doesn't stop them moving. "For that?"
"For," she glances nervously at the crowd again, "For... you know." And of course she is referring to when she wasn't in control of her own body and it kissed him and, really, she's not entirely sure why she needs to apologize for that, but she does anyway.
The Doctor's smile is warm. "Oh, I've forgotten that already," which Rose supposes he means as a reassurance to her that he's not holding it against her, and maybe it is, slightly, except she can't quite shake the sound of his voice (well, sort of) reminding her how much she hadn't minded Cassandra's boldness in the first place.
The tempo shifts to something faster, a foxtrot. She forgets everything for a moment.
*
It's a crisp autumn night and there's a siren going off in the distance. Rose walks with her hand in the Doctor's arm, nodding to well-dressed pedestrians and still amazed that they fit in completely.
The second club is different: brighter, bigger, more alive; less champagne cocktail and more glasses with cheap dark liquids and ice cubes that clank along to the rhythm of faster music. Here they squeeze onto a crowded dance floor rather than hanging in the shadows and they move so fast that Rose can feel her feet aching after a while and the sweat building underneath the unbreathable fabric of her dress. But they still swing and dance and laugh and spin, and when they are pressed together and clinging to one another, it's hardly intimate since they're surrounded by more three dozen other couples. In a lull she pins her hair up to keep it off her neck and he is watching her intently the entire time.
The night ends when a fight breaks out in the back and there are policemen yelling for everyone to leave. Rose and the Doctor stumble down the sidewalk in fits of laughter and Rose's head is occasionally buried in the Doctor's chest to prevent her from waking half of the city, and those same well-dressed pedestrians are now staring at them with blatant disapproval.
Which, of course, only makes them laugh harder.
Her skin is prickling in the cool air, and when the Doctor puts an arm around her to pull her close to him, it prickles for a very different reason.
*
In the square where they parked the TARDIS, they sit on a bench and the Doctor names the constellations in his language. Except Rose is sure that he's just teasing her, because not even a race of a 900-year-old time traveling aliens could name something The Dancing Goat.
He is staring upwards (clear sky, new stars) and she is watching him, when she says again, "I'm really am sorry."
The Doctor replies, with his head still in the sky, "Not your fault."
Without thinking she kisses him lightly on the cheek. It's brief and it's chaste, except she also wants to run her hand through his hair, and for half a second she almost wishes it would have been one of those nicely timed moments when he turns his head just as she leans into him and she ends up kissing his lips instead.
They stare at one another.
"Rose," the Doctor whispers, but he says nothing else. There is a breeze then, and she is chilled despite the Doctor's jacket draped over her shoulders.
Cassandra kissed the Doctor desperately, messily, but Rose kisses him with surprising tenderness and maturity. He doesn't even kiss her back, not at first, as if he's not sure that he should, and though it wasn't even her she can still feel the memory of his body trying to pull back from hers on New Earth.
And then a hand comes to the side of her face and she sighs and he's kissing her back, tasting like a bit of brandy and something sweet. His hands moves down her collarbone, underneath his own jacket, and down around the curve of her shoulder. Her own fingers are clutching his tie, keeping him close.
It's over, then, just like that.
Rose is still holding onto his tie, breathing heavily and able to see it in the space between them.
She just wanted to go dancing. So she let him decide for her.
*
In the morning he is on his back beneath the TARDIS console, humming Glenn Miller and tapping one foot.
He asks her if she still wants to dance, and when she agrees, he tells her that she's going to need to change.