Doctor Who Fic: Just A Victorian Euphemism
Title: Just A Victorian Euphemism
Author: lookatmoiye7
Rating: PG
Characters: Rose/Ten
Authors Notes: For the Time in Flux Ficathon over at doctor_rose_fic, in which the fic we wrote should somehow get the Doctor and Rose together, but the principle storyline should stay consistent with canon. Also, a big THANK YOU to marcasite for the transcript! You're amazingly amazing. ♥
Episode: 202. Tooth and Claw. I changed some things around, but it’s all for a good cause, right?
Summary: He seems to consider this, leaning back and stretching out fully on the bed. Rose tries not to get too distracted by his neck. Or his shirt that’s riding up. Or his hands.
~
“She won’t say it,” the Doctor insists, resting against the doorframe. He crosses his arms and she can feel him watching her as she moves about the room, touching things and delighting in them. Sir Robert insisted that they take separate rooms for their stay, so the Doctor's room is down the hall, but he snuck in to see her before they repair to the dining room.
“She will. I’m not losing out on ten quid. I’ll make her say it.”
“Ooh, that’s scary.”
“It is. You’ve experienced the Tyler tenacity for yourself, haven’t you?”
“Well. Tenacity is one word for it.”
“Shut up.” She turns to him and tries to ignore how attractive he is all lean-y like that. And with the hair, and the tight suit, and the accent… She looks away again, focusing on the bed. “Will we be staying the night, then?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“On what trouble we find.” Excitement colours his voice. “Can’t you feel it, Rose? Something’s going on, here, and we’re right in the middle of it.” He steps into the room, his eyes so alive, his energy exhilarating. “I can feel it, right here,” he grabs her hand and places it between his hearts, “this buzzing sensation that won’t quite stop. Can you feel it?”
Her mouth is dry. He’s so close she can see how one eye is a little bit wonky, and how much product he uses in his hair, and how not wearing a tie makes her want to… She shakes her head, instead, and he steps back, looking a bit disappointed.
“Well, it’s definitely there. Something’s amiss!” He grins. “Sounds like fun, right?”
“Are you kidding?” Grinning back, she adds, “Sounds brilliant.”
“That’s why I keep you around. Well, that and it’s easier to get into parties.” He winks and moves back over to the door. “You should get changed. No matter what Her Majesty reckons, I think the guards are getting entirely too excited with you in that get-up.”
Rose bites down the urge to tease him about jealousy, instead nodding at him and opening the wardrobe door and reaching inside, but he hasn’t left yet. He watches her for a few moments before adding, “Oh, and Rose?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t lose that outfit. It’s still perfect for 1979.”
She makes sure that he’s gone before allowing herself to smile.
~
“She still hasn’t said it yet,” the Doctor reminds her. She rolls her eyes and veers left to her bedroom door. Queen Victoria asked them to stay the night, and since it means actually sleeping in her genuine 1870s bed instead of just touching it, Rose was hardly going to let the Doctor say no.
“Still got time, don’t we? She might say it in the morning.”
“She might not, though. Actually, funny thing is,” he continues, pushing past her as she opens the door to go and flop on her bed, his change of subject like lightning, “Queen Victoria did actually suffer a mutation of the blood. It's historical record, she’s a haemophiliac. It used to be called the Royal Disease! But it's always been a mystery because she didn't inherit it. Her mum didn't have it, her dad didn't have it… It came from nowhere.”
She closes the door and turns to him, not sure whether he’s winding her up or not. It’s happened before, in a story involving John Lennon and a pineapple, so she can’t take his word for it immediately. “What, and you're saying that's a wolf bite?”
“Well, maybe Haemophilia is just a Victorian euphemism.” He pulls his arms up behind his head and raises his eyebrows at her.
Rose is still sceptical. “For werewolf.”
“Could be.”
“You think Queen Victoria's a werewolf?”
“Could be! And, her children had the Royal Disease. Maybe she gave them a quick nip.”
“She was just… feeling hungry one day, and decided to…” She sits next to him on the bed and shakes her head. “Nah, this is just too weird. The Royal Family are werewolves?”
He seems to consider this, leaning back and stretching out fully on the bed. Rose tries not to get too distracted by his neck. Or his shirt that’s riding up. Or his hands. Or… “Well… maybe not yet,” he says finally, and she forces herself to pay attention. “I mean, a single wolf cell could take... a hundred years to mature? Might be ready by… Oooh… Early 21st century?”
“Well,” Rose says, as a thought occurs to her that makes the entire prospect at least fifty percent less ridiculous, “Princess Anne...”
“I'll say no more.” He grins, though, and she can feel his eyes on her again as she continues.
“And if you think about it... they're very private. They plan everything in advance. They could schedule themselves around the moon and we'd never know.”
“Ha!”
“They like hunting, they love blood sports, they…” She turns to him, matching his smile with her own, and squeals, “Oh my God, they're werewolves!”
He laughs, just a bit manically, and begins howling, causing her to break into a giggle fit. It feels ridiculously uplifting to laugh after the day they’re had, so she joins him, falling back on the bed next to him and howling with him, until they’re both laughing so hard they’re gasping for air.
Eventually, Rose degenerates into hiccups, and just lays still, enjoying the Doctor’s proximity and body heat, the way his hair tickles her cheek whenever he moves. She reaches for his hand on reflex, curling her fingers around his and squeezing hard, and he responds, and they spend a few moments just breathing and squeezing before he suddenly boosts himself up, leaning on his free arm to hover over her.
His eyes are dark. Rose swallows, not knowing what to do. She knows what is going to happen next. She’s just not sure that it should.
“Doctor,” she says softly, and he leans forward infinitely slowly, giving either or both of them plenty of time to pull away.
Neither of them do.
~
Author: lookatmoiye7
Rating: PG
Characters: Rose/Ten
Authors Notes: For the Time in Flux Ficathon over at doctor_rose_fic, in which the fic we wrote should somehow get the Doctor and Rose together, but the principle storyline should stay consistent with canon. Also, a big THANK YOU to marcasite for the transcript! You're amazingly amazing. ♥
Episode: 202. Tooth and Claw. I changed some things around, but it’s all for a good cause, right?
Summary: He seems to consider this, leaning back and stretching out fully on the bed. Rose tries not to get too distracted by his neck. Or his shirt that’s riding up. Or his hands.
~
“She won’t say it,” the Doctor insists, resting against the doorframe. He crosses his arms and she can feel him watching her as she moves about the room, touching things and delighting in them. Sir Robert insisted that they take separate rooms for their stay, so the Doctor's room is down the hall, but he snuck in to see her before they repair to the dining room.
“She will. I’m not losing out on ten quid. I’ll make her say it.”
“Ooh, that’s scary.”
“It is. You’ve experienced the Tyler tenacity for yourself, haven’t you?”
“Well. Tenacity is one word for it.”
“Shut up.” She turns to him and tries to ignore how attractive he is all lean-y like that. And with the hair, and the tight suit, and the accent… She looks away again, focusing on the bed. “Will we be staying the night, then?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“On what trouble we find.” Excitement colours his voice. “Can’t you feel it, Rose? Something’s going on, here, and we’re right in the middle of it.” He steps into the room, his eyes so alive, his energy exhilarating. “I can feel it, right here,” he grabs her hand and places it between his hearts, “this buzzing sensation that won’t quite stop. Can you feel it?”
Her mouth is dry. He’s so close she can see how one eye is a little bit wonky, and how much product he uses in his hair, and how not wearing a tie makes her want to… She shakes her head, instead, and he steps back, looking a bit disappointed.
“Well, it’s definitely there. Something’s amiss!” He grins. “Sounds like fun, right?”
“Are you kidding?” Grinning back, she adds, “Sounds brilliant.”
“That’s why I keep you around. Well, that and it’s easier to get into parties.” He winks and moves back over to the door. “You should get changed. No matter what Her Majesty reckons, I think the guards are getting entirely too excited with you in that get-up.”
Rose bites down the urge to tease him about jealousy, instead nodding at him and opening the wardrobe door and reaching inside, but he hasn’t left yet. He watches her for a few moments before adding, “Oh, and Rose?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t lose that outfit. It’s still perfect for 1979.”
She makes sure that he’s gone before allowing herself to smile.
~
“She still hasn’t said it yet,” the Doctor reminds her. She rolls her eyes and veers left to her bedroom door. Queen Victoria asked them to stay the night, and since it means actually sleeping in her genuine 1870s bed instead of just touching it, Rose was hardly going to let the Doctor say no.
“Still got time, don’t we? She might say it in the morning.”
“She might not, though. Actually, funny thing is,” he continues, pushing past her as she opens the door to go and flop on her bed, his change of subject like lightning, “Queen Victoria did actually suffer a mutation of the blood. It's historical record, she’s a haemophiliac. It used to be called the Royal Disease! But it's always been a mystery because she didn't inherit it. Her mum didn't have it, her dad didn't have it… It came from nowhere.”
She closes the door and turns to him, not sure whether he’s winding her up or not. It’s happened before, in a story involving John Lennon and a pineapple, so she can’t take his word for it immediately. “What, and you're saying that's a wolf bite?”
“Well, maybe Haemophilia is just a Victorian euphemism.” He pulls his arms up behind his head and raises his eyebrows at her.
Rose is still sceptical. “For werewolf.”
“Could be.”
“You think Queen Victoria's a werewolf?”
“Could be! And, her children had the Royal Disease. Maybe she gave them a quick nip.”
“She was just… feeling hungry one day, and decided to…” She sits next to him on the bed and shakes her head. “Nah, this is just too weird. The Royal Family are werewolves?”
He seems to consider this, leaning back and stretching out fully on the bed. Rose tries not to get too distracted by his neck. Or his shirt that’s riding up. Or his hands. Or… “Well… maybe not yet,” he says finally, and she forces herself to pay attention. “I mean, a single wolf cell could take... a hundred years to mature? Might be ready by… Oooh… Early 21st century?”
“Well,” Rose says, as a thought occurs to her that makes the entire prospect at least fifty percent less ridiculous, “Princess Anne...”
“I'll say no more.” He grins, though, and she can feel his eyes on her again as she continues.
“And if you think about it... they're very private. They plan everything in advance. They could schedule themselves around the moon and we'd never know.”
“Ha!”
“They like hunting, they love blood sports, they…” She turns to him, matching his smile with her own, and squeals, “Oh my God, they're werewolves!”
He laughs, just a bit manically, and begins howling, causing her to break into a giggle fit. It feels ridiculously uplifting to laugh after the day they’re had, so she joins him, falling back on the bed next to him and howling with him, until they’re both laughing so hard they’re gasping for air.
Eventually, Rose degenerates into hiccups, and just lays still, enjoying the Doctor’s proximity and body heat, the way his hair tickles her cheek whenever he moves. She reaches for his hand on reflex, curling her fingers around his and squeezing hard, and he responds, and they spend a few moments just breathing and squeezing before he suddenly boosts himself up, leaning on his free arm to hover over her.
His eyes are dark. Rose swallows, not knowing what to do. She knows what is going to happen next. She’s just not sure that it should.
“Doctor,” she says softly, and he leans forward infinitely slowly, giving either or both of them plenty of time to pull away.
Neither of them do.
~