An Officer and the Noble Woman, Part 13.2 (13 of ?)
Title: An Officer and the Noble Woman, Part 13.2 (13 of ?)
Author: dtstrainers
Paring: Donna Noble/Peter Carlisle
Beta/Co-Captain of this Ship: WhosInTheAttic- Thanks again for everything.
Rating: PG here, M for Mature in Part 13.4
Word Count: 3,311 of 12,353 words for all parts of Part 13. LiveJournal hasn't been liking me lately and is making me break this up into several parts. I'm just happy it's letting me post again....
Summary: Peter and Donna spend an evening at Donna's home.
Disclaimer: Donna and Peter both belong to others, except in my own twisted version of what should be. My Great and Glorious plan is to post at least once a week, and when I do, on Friday, when Live Journal decides to cooperate. This ended up being a monster ans so was split into three parts. I promise, I tried to find another was, but nothing has been cooperating for the past two weeks and this is the best that I could do.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8.1 | Part 8.2 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13.1 | Part 13.2 | Part 13.3 | Part 13.4
5:45 PM Friday, 18 May 2012
**********
Donna fumbled in her bag, trying to fish out her mobile before it stopped ringing. As she answered the call, she glanced at the screen and her heart fluttered when she saw the name on the display.
“Where are you?”
“Well, hello to you too, Policeman....” Donna said with a snort of amusement as she wedged the mobile between her shoulder and her ear. She stirred the pot on the stovetop and waited for Peter to respond.
“Sorry,” he apologized ruefully after a few awkward seconds. “It’s been a long week, and I’ve been looking forward to seein’ you for days now.” He grew quiet for a long moment before admitting, “I’ve missed you at lunch. Really, where are you?”
At the slightly pleading tone in his voice, Donna took pity on him. “Home, making dinner. The advantage of bankers hours,” she said with a smile in her voice. “You hungry?” she asked casually, knowing the answer would be yes. When wasn’t he? She still couldn’t work out how he could eat so much, so often, and still stay so slim. She figured that it must be a hereditary trait and, if so, wondered whose metabolism their children would .... no. No, no, no, she backtracked mentally, don’t go there. That way, madness lay. She shook her head and blinked to force a return to the here and now.
“I could eat,” Peter replied, trying for nonchalant. Truth be told, he was ravenous. He’d been so busy with what had appeared at first blush to be a promising turn in the investigation that he’d skipped lunch three days in a row, more out of stubbornness than lack of appetite. Donna had already chastised him for his poor eating habits and he’d promised to be mindful of what he ate, so he’d ignored the ever-present boxes of pastry and bags of crisps strewn about the office, making do with the occasional handful of breakfast cereal from the box he kept stashed in his cabinet. He could have gone down to the canteen for a proper lunch, but part of him didn’t eat out of spite, just to be a prick. He was being petulant, he knew, but stopping for a proper meal just would make him miss his lunch dates with Donna all the more. Hungry was an understatement.
“Well, love, I’m almost finished making a bite to eat with more than enough for two. Could I tempt you to join me here?” Donna asked. “I don't have anything planed, as such. Maybe we can spend the evening, if you like, with a bottle of wine and some telly? It’s a bit late and I didn’t think you’d fancy goin’ out tonight.”
Peter sighed gratefully, starting to relax at the sound of her voice. “Oh, that sounds perfect. I can be there in..” he glanced at the clock on the dash and did a quick mental calculation, “ten, maybe fifteen minutes, traffic depending?”
Donna smiled at the change of tone in his voice and replied, “I'll be waitin’ for you. I'm still in my work clothes, so I’m goin’ to go change. I'll unlock the door, seeing’ as how you're so close. You know the buzzer code for the back gate- just come on in.”
“Will do. See ye soon,” Peter replied as he rang off, and Donna knew he was weary when he dropped into his accent again. She unlocked the door to her flat on the way to her bedroom, pulling her blouse off over her head as she went. She stripped off her pants and deposited them in the hamper inside her bedroom door before throwing open the closet. She was still there, trying to decide what to wear when she heard her front door open.
Twelve minutes after he’d hung up, Peter entered Donna's home. He felt a bit unsure of himself for some reason as he set his keys on the table near her door. He smiled at the aroma of a home-cooked meal and looked about the open kitchen and living space beyond. “Donna?” he called, stepping into the living room and making note of the modern decor, the deep chrome-framed couch and matching chrome and glass end tables. It could have been an off-putting and sterile environment, but it was strewn with books, pillows and luxurious throws and perfectly suited to the wide-open space of the converted building Donna made her home. Another detail, he noted wryly, realizing that his head was still working on the profile his heart had already completed.
“I'm in the bedroom, love,” Donna called, still debating her options. It was too soon to go the sweatpants route, she decided, but she didn’t fancy anything as stiff as jeans. She didn’t want anything too suggestive, - it might give him the wrong impression- but she still want to look nice for him. She finally opted for a white tank top with a comfy but snug midnight blue zip-up jumper over soft drawstring pants. It wasn’t fancy, but it fit well and was both casual and flattering- and easy to get out of, if the occasion should arise.
Peter bit his lip and ruffled his hair as he moved to the center of her living room, debating for a moment whether he should follow the sound of her voice. He’d only really ever been as far as the kitchen in her flat before and he worried about what she’d think if he just walked down the hall. He elected to go as far as the hallway and stopped to stand where he could see the doorway to her bedroom, just close enough so that he could hear her clearly.
“Be out in a tick,” she called to him as she stepped into her pants. “Want to pour the wine while I get dressed?”
“Sure thing,” he replied and he headed back through the living area into the dining room. Peter saw that she’d put the wine and corkscrew on the kitchen island beside two wine glasses. He popped the cork and poured them each a glass before bringing them into the living room and setting them on the coffee table. He frowned, then picked the glasses up and started back to the dining area. Donna had made the meal, and while he might eat in front of the telly at home, he didn’t know what she preferred. He smiled to himself, thinking it novel that he knew exactly how to move his tongue against her to make her cry out, but not where she would rather eat dinner.
Donna walked in as he was leaning over the table and she smiled. Did the man never change? He always had on the exact same thing every day- only his tie was different and even then, not by much. She supposed that made getting ready in the morning rather quick, but with a bum like his, it was worth a bit of time and effort to dress. She remembered his slim form clad in jeans and grinned- enter Donna Noble, personal shopper. She considered where to start in her efforts to slowly augment his basic wardrobe- after all, she was the one who would truly benefit. The man was already eye candy, but a bit of color in the wrappings never hurt. “Hello, Copper,” she said, as he turned to face her, a wineglass in each hand.
“Donna...you look lovely,’ Peter blurted out. He looked at her dumbly for a moment before remembering himself and offering her a glass of wine.
Donna scoffed and punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Right...,” she replied, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “No need for that. Dinner’s already made and you’re already invited.” She took a quick sip from her glass and set it down on the table as Peter opened his mouth to protest. Before he could, she moved closer and tugged at his lapels.
“Why don’t you take off your coat and stay awhile,” she teased gently. “Here, let me hang it up,” she said and suddenly her face went slack as she was swept galaxies away, standing with him in the swirling snow. She blinked repeatedly, as if clearing away an errant eyelash before coming back to herself again.
“Donna?” Peter asked, puzzled. “Are you all right?”
“Oh, I’m fine, really,” she lied breathlessly. “Just something in my eye is all.”
Peter paused for a moment, studying her face openly before setting his glass down and moving to shrug out of his customary garment. For the first time, Donna realized that she'd met her match in him. This man could see through her like no one else could, and no amount of bluster would throw him off any line of inquiry he chose to pursue. What the hell was I thinking when I got involved with a Detective anyway?, she thought ruefully. She couldn't help but smile at his questioning gaze and she was grateful when he nodded slightly and let the matter drop, but she knew that it was only a matter of time. Her clever DI would find out everything about her, eventually, and then he wouldn't be her DI any longer.
Donna took his coat and walked to the hall closet, turning the garment slowly in in her hands and worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she did so. Peter watched her intently, looking for clues to explain her behavior. She stood for a moment pensively staring at the garment in her hand, and then, just as Peter was becoming concerned, she brightened and asked with forced nonchalance, "Peter, have you always had just the black coat, then? Did you never wear a brown one?"
"No", he snorted. "On a humble public servant's salary, I just have the one," he joked, eyes crinkling in amusement. "Why do you ask?"
“I keep having this dream about you, but I could swear you’re in brown,” Donna replied as she retrieved a hanger from the closet. She slipped his coat over it and replaced the hanger on the rod, smoothing the garment as she did. She spoke quietly without turning to face him, and he had to move closer to catch her words. “You were standin' there, in the wind, and you had your hands in your pockets. You were just...watchin' me. Didn't say a word...but I know it was brown." She clutched at the sleeve as if searching for a hand to hold that wasn’t there and looked back at him from worlds away.
Peter tried to focus on her face, her expression, looking for telltale details, trying to make sense of it all, but careening about in his mind, confusing his thoughts, were the words she'd just uttered- I keep having this dream about you. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss away the forlorn expression on her face, but he forced himself to stand perfectly still and wait for her to continue. Donna shook her head slightly as if to clear away the memory and and the action recalled Peter to his purpose as well.
Donna noticed him studying her and smiled, suddenly bashful under his scrutiny. She closed the closet door on her past but didn’t yet turn back to face her future. She couldn’t believe she'd just told this man she'd known barely a month that he populated her sleeping world and she could feel her face burning and prayed that he wouldn’t comment- it was far too much to hope that he wouldn’t notice. She turned around and attempted to bluff her way through the uncomfortable silence between them with a blatant attempt to change the subject, but she knew he’d recognize her ploy. "OK, Copper,” she quipped, “what would Freud have to say about that one?"
Peter though the faint blush creeping from Donna’s cheeks down to her exposed neck and cleavage was fiercely erotic and he couldn’t help but smile. He tried to hide his observations in deference to her obvious discomfort but she saw anyway and the pink deepened to scarlet. He considered her statement momentarily before answering in a casual drawl.
"Well, Donna,” he began, “Freud's theories on dream interpretation have been pretty much discredited in recent years, as there's no hard scientific data to support them.” He leaned back on his heels, acutely aware that his hands were in his pockets in unintentional imitation of her dream. He reached up to rub his nose briefly and sniffed before continuing. “Nowadays, research seems to be split as to why we dream. But the theory I like best is that dreams are merely our body’s way of consolidating and cataloging the day's experiences. Not very romantic, I'll admit, but logical." He waited for her response, raising his eyebrows and leaning slightly towards her.
Donna’s bluster melted away and she smiled at him, bemused and amused. “Policeman, how do you know all that?” she asked as she watched him closely. It was her turn now to observe and catalog his reactions, preserving them for future reference.
Peter grimaced slightly and tugged at his ear. “I do have a Masters in Forensic Psychology Practice,” he admitted. At her continued astonished silence, he added, “I told you that I'd been studyin' psychology prior to becoming a Detective. I went back later on to finish it up. I thought it might be advantageous in my chosen profession."
Donna looked at him, head cocked to the side and mouth agape. It was several seconds before she remembered to close her mouth and she did so with an audible click of teeth. “You’ve got what?” she breathed, looking at him with a combination of wonder and incredulity. “A Masters degree? In Forensic Psychology?.....Lord, I’m datin' a real life scholar? First poetry and now this?” She put her hands on her hips, then self-consciously folded her arms across her chest and looked at the floor. For the first time since they’d started dating, Donna felt uncomfortable and inadequate. She could feel Peter watching her and she tried for a light, playful response and almost succeeded in pulling it off. “Well, just ‘cause you’ve got a fancy piece of paper, don’t go thinkin’ you can play any Jedi mind tricks on me, Copper!” she snorted, throwing her titan mane back over her shoulder.
Peter closed the distance between them and drew her into his arms. He hugged her tightly and spoke into her hair. “Donna, it was just a two year course, and it’s not unusual in the police force,” he said soothingly. “I decided against pursuing it further.”
At his words, Donna melted a tiny bit before shaking her head and wistfully musing, “Gorgeous and brilliant, that’s you. But whatever do you see in me, Policeman?“
“Donna Noble, I’m the lucky one here,” he replied, leaning down to kiss her. As she sank happily into his embrace, he wanted to tell her that she was the most important woman in his universe, because she was, but he was afraid it was a bit too early in the relationship for that. He settled for brushing her hair aside and kissing her forehead as he continued. “You’re bold and brilliant and beautiful, and the best thing that’s happened to me in a long, long time.” He laid a finger along her jawline and gently tilted her head up to meet his gaze. “I wish I’d met you sooner.”
She gave him a dubious look before smiling, deciding not to argue while enjoying his obvious flattery. “Me, too, Policeman,” she sighed and pulled him closer for a sweet, gentle kiss.
He reached over to the table and retrieved their glasses, handing Donna’s back to her and raising his own slightly. “To you,” he said with a gentle smile.
“To us,” she responded, sipping her wine.
Peter leaned in to kiss her chastely on the lips before agreeing, “To us,” and Donna pulled back from the kiss, beaming. She still couldn’t believe her good fortune in finding him and she realized she was staring at him with a dazed grin and quickly scrambled for a topic of conversation.
She took a deep breath and moved toward the kitchen, tossing back over her shoulder, “You got here quickly; it was twelve minutes and 28 seconds from your call to you opening the door. Were you in the neighborhood or something?”
He followed her and leaned against the kitchen island, puzzled and amused. “Were you timin’ me?” he asked incredulously.
“No, I wasn’t timin’ you, Policeman,” she said with a smirk as she took two plates from the cupboard. “I don’t even think I own a clock anymore. It’s just sometimes, if I don't think about it too much, I can tell the exact time. It really comes in handy when I’m tempin’- I can look at a situation and pretty much tell how long it’s gonna take to finish up a job and plan accordingly. Dead useful when I'm cooking, actually," she mused. “Chicken marsala, some pasta and salad?" she asked, and at his answering nod, she turned in his direction and shook a spoon at him. "Now, stop tryin' to change the subject."
Peter grinned bashfully and tugged at his ear. “Weeellll,” he admitted, “I was already on my way over when I rang. Thought if you were busy I could turn around and go home.”
Donna blushed again, trying to hide her reaction as she set a plate down on the counter before her. “Don't tease me like that,” she said with a laugh. “A girl could almost believe you. And if I believed you- which I don't - I'd drop everything if I knew you were coming over,” she finished sincerely. She turned back to him and handed him his plate. “Now, before the food gets cold, where do you want to eat?” she asked. “I've been known to just plop myself in front of the telly when I'm alone, but we can always use the table. I don't usually have company....” she admitted, trailing off.
“Either or,” he replied. “I often do the same.”
"Telly it is, then," she announced as she moved to clean off the stovetop and put the dirty pan in the sink. “I don't even know what's on tonight, but maybe we could just sit there and relax. My feet are killin' me after today. This is supposed to be a desk job, but they’ve always got me runnin‘ around. I'm gonna have to switch to flats at this rate."
"I appreciate you makin’ dinner. I wasn’t lookin’ forward to fightin’ the Friday night crowd at the George. It was nice of you to offer," he finished with a grateful sigh.
Donna hid her elated grin behind her hair at his assumption that they'd have gone out to the George otherwise- he was falling into her habits and seemed happy to follow her lead. She threw her titan mane back with a playful toss and scoffed, "Nah, I'm hoping to ply you with good food and wine in the hopes you'll return. Nothing nice about it."
"I've already returned, haven't I?" Peter said sweetly.
Picking up her plate and turning to walk back to the living room, she brushed lightly against him as she rounded the island. "Yes, you have, Detective Inspector. Now what am I to surmise based on that bit of evidence?" she purred.
"That you've won me over just being you," he replied playfully. "Dinner and wine is just a bonus."
She sat down on the couch, smirking, as she was sure he was laying it on a bit thick for someone like her, but she was willing to play along. "Peter, come over here and enjoy your bonus, will you?” she said as she placed her plate on the coffee table.
**********
Continued in Part 13.3 below.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8.1 | Part 8.2 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13.1 | Part 13.2 | Part 13.3 |