The Way of Things, Chapter 38
Peter slowly blinked awake, the sound of the alarm clock invading the best night’s sleep he’d had in recent memory. He reached over and slapped the machine off, his mind wondering why the curtains were drawn over the windows, and why it was so bloody early. He groggily reached over to turn on the light, and remembered.
Rose was in bed with him.
He quickly turned the light on before eagerly rolling over to face Rose. She was there. There was no empty bed, no cold sheet, no pillow that didn’t smell like her no matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise. There was only Rose, tousled from sleep, her skin fair and her cheeks a deep shade of pink. He thought he had never seen a more beautiful woman, and never had she been more beautiful than at that moment. He wanted to leap out of bed and throw open the window and shout to the world, “Rose Tyler is here.” Instead, her eyes met his sleepily, and he settled for smiling at her.
“How’d you sleep?” he whispered.
“Terribly,” she confessed. Rose sat up, rubbing her eyes before turning to him. “New bed, new place-and I’m not quite used to sharing a bed. I was worried I’d wake you, or oversleep.”
“Oh.” He sat up, his brain blanking on a response. He ruffled his hair as he tried to think of a better answer.
“Wouldn’t change it for anything, though,” she whispered, leaning into him, looking at him sidelong. He saw a smile on her lips, and he leaned into her in return.
“It’ll just take more practice,” he offered lightly, enjoying her reaction, her eyes growing wide. He moved, throwing the covers back and climbing out of bed. He turned back to offer Rose a cup of coffee, and froze at the vision in front of him. Rose, rumpled from both sleep and sex, sitting under his red duvet, in the middle of his bed, wearing his shirt. His heart skipped a beat, his breath catching as he realized just how much he cared for her, how much he wanted her, wanted this.
“Peter?” Her voice was soft, holding a note of concern.
He scrambled for something to say that wasn’t a dramatic proclamation of his giddy delight at her presence. “Would you like some coffee? I, ah, need to get ready for work.”
She wrinkled her brow, picking up on the fact that what he said wasn’t what he had been thinking, but slowly nodded. “That’d be nice, thank you.”
He hurried downstairs, setting the coffee to brew. As he waited for the pot to finish-and for his emotions to subside to a manageable level-he hastily cleaned up the mess from the night before, moving the remaining dishes to the kitchen before folding up the blanket. Once the coffee was done, he poured out two mugs; to his, he added cream and sugar. He’d seen Rose put cream in hers, and added a bit; he wasn’t sure about sugar, and so he grabbed the small sugar bowl. He placed a spoon in Rose’s mug, and carried the two mugs and small bowl upstairs.
Rose was still sitting in bed, trying to wake up fully. He set her coffee on the bed stand closest to her. “I, ah, wasn’t sure about sugar.”
She slid over to the coffee, and he savoured the delighted surprise on her face as she saw he’d added cream. “Thank you.” She added a small amount of sugar, and took an appreciative sip, her eyes watching him over the rim of the mug.
“I’ve just got to shower and get dressed,” he said, moving to the wardrobe, taking a long draught of coffee as he tried desperately not to imagine what it would be like to shower with Rose. He opened the doors, setting his mug in its usual perch on one of the shelves as he searched for something to wear.
Clean pants and vest in hand, he gave Rose a final smile before crossing to the en suite to take a quick shower. As he washed, he said a silent prayer of thanks that he’d shaved the night before; he emerged into the bedroom a scant five minutes after he’d left it, freshly showered and teeth brushed.
Rose had dressed in her clothes from the night before, and was sitting at the edge of the bed drinking her coffee. Her eyes widened as he walked into the room, and he wondered if they might be able to-
No. He needed to clear his head, had to get ready for the workday. Maybe they’d finally solve the case, once and for all; after which, he’d find a way to have a proper lie-in with Rose.
He gave her another smile and crossed to the wardrobe once more; his coffee was where he had left it, and he gratefully took another gulp of the warm liquid, using its taste to centre himself and concentrate on his morning routine. He was conscious of Rose watching him as he dressed, her eyes following his hands as he buttoned his shirt, as he slid on his trousers. He pulled a belt through the loops on the trousers, buckling it, before moving to sit on the bed and pull on his socks.
Standing, he grabbed a jumper off of one of the shelves and pulled it on in one swift move, rumpling his freshly-combed hair. With one hand, he smoothed it back while with the other he retrieved his mug from its perch in the wardrobe. Rose was still watching him as he closed the doors before turning to her, fighting down a smile.
“Will I do?”
“I had no idea getting dressed could be so...sexy,” she replied, sounding slightly awed.
“It’s not nearly as fun as the opposite, but it has its moments.” He moved to the line of shoes, taking care to find a matching pair. Rose moved to join him, and he waited for her inevitable comment about his mismatched shoes.
She leaned against him, whispering, “I’d like to see it again sometime.”
He nearly fell over, the serious comment catching him off-guard as he tried to put on a shoe. He straightened, turning to her, and she added with a grin, “But only if your shoes match.”
She laughed, moving away from him as he stood gobsmackedfor a moment by Rose’s rapid-fire shift from seductive to playful. He came to his senses and chased her around to the other side of the bed, cornering her next to the window.
She was still giggling as he leaned in for a kiss.
They made it out of the bedroom ten minutes-and several kisses-later. Peter quickly deposited their mugs in the kitchen sink once they were downstairs, before squiring her out the front door. The sky was just showing light as they drove into town, and he noticed Rose worrying her bottom lip.
“D’you regret staying?” he asked bluntly, deciding that if she did he’d rather know immediately.
She paused only briefly before replying, “No. It…it was the best night of my life here.” Her voice was soft, and he felt his heart skip a beat at the admission.
“I’m glad,” he replied quietly.
They reached her hotel shortly after, and he dropped her off with a light kiss. “I’ll walk you in.”
“There’s no need.”
“You shouldn’t be alone.”
“You shouldn’t be alone. I’m sure someone from my team will be skulking around my room, hoping to hear whether or not I think you’re a good shag.” She grinned at him, tongue caught between her teeth.
Peter’s heart stopped for a second. For how long had he longed for Rose to turn that teasing grin on him? How many times had he died of jealousy whilst she showered it on others? He marvelled at the miracle that he might be able to expect to be at the receiving end of that grin for an indefinite portion of his future. He swallowed thickly and contemplated following her up to her room for reasons that had nothing to do with her safety.
“What will you tell them?” he asked, hoarsely.
Her grin widened. “Wouldn’t you like to know? You’ve got to get to the station,” she pointed out, and he wondered how obvious it was that the station was the farthest thing from his mind. She sobered. “And, to be honest, I’m more worried about you being alone while you get there than I am about getting myself into the hotel. So ring me when you get there, yeah?”
He shook his head mentally to clear it and nodded. “Yeah. See you in a bit, then.” He leaned in for one last, soft kiss.
“In a bit.” Rose paused, before adding, “Thank you, Peter.” She climbed out, closing the door gently behind her before turning to enter the hotel. He watched her until she turned to climb the stairs, before engaging the clutch and driving on. He glanced at the clock, deciding he had plenty of time to pick up pastries, along with a proper coffee, before going to the station.
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
Rose fully expected to find one of her team camped outside her door; instead, she found a simple note from Jake. “Hope you enjoyed your night. Check in with me in the morning.”
She wondered what she had done to be so lucky-to have had a spectacular night with Peter and to have the most amazing friends as co-workers. A dark corner of her mind-the one that reminded her of how wonderful things had been with the Doctor just before everything changed-wondered how long it would last.
She waited for Peter’s call-building him in time for a pastry break, which she assumed he would make-and was relieved when he rang to let her know he’d made it. He sounded distracted, and rang off quickly, but she at least knew he was safe.
Rose lost herself in her thoughts as she showered and got ready to go into the station. She’d learned to take what the universe could offer, to gratefully accept its gifts when they were provided. She’d do what she could to keep Peter safe, as she did for everyone who was dear to her-but she’d not let herself be ruled by the fear that he might be ripped away from her.
Rose shook her head, trying to clear it. She and Peter had had sex, yes-and she’d slept with him quite literally. Why was she already thinking of their relationship as a long-term one? She hoped she and Peter would make the thing between last, but there were still a lot of things to be dealt with-first and foremost amongst them being the case.
She sighed, pulling her hair back after she finished dressing. She took one last look in the mirror to make sure she was presentable, and then set out for the station. Jacques had sent several of his team north-and while that group worked for him, they’d still be coordinating with her. She hated the idea of Swinson having a teleport; she had no doubt he’d not hesitate to use it to serve whatever ends he required, and she worried that someone from the team would be caught unawares by him. There was still no conclusive proof that Swinson had killed McGreevy-a knife had yet to be discovered, nor was there any physical evidence that Swinson had been near the warehouse-but he was their only suspect. His real employers might not hesitate to remove an obstacle, be it human or not-but they’d need a clear reason for doing so.
The drive to the station was short, and she arrived just past half seven. Peter’s car was in the car park, and she felt her pulse accelerate. How was she going to be able to act normal around him? She idly wondered if Penington had changed his bet in the station pool the day before, after walking in on her and Peter. If anyone was going to profit off of the thing, she hoped it would be the DC.
As she walked into the main room, she was conscious of how quiet it was. The few people present were silent; and as she crossed the room to the hall, she discovered the reason. DCI Williams was dressing someone down in his office, quite loudly.
She was hardly surprised when she heard Peter’s voice respond. She couldn’t hear what was being said, but his tone carried a measure of controlled fury which she hoped never to hear directed at her.
The DCI must have been lying in wait-from what she’d seen, he rarely arrived before nine, and often left before five. She’d often wondered who he knew, that he could keep his job without any apparent work; he wasn’t liked in the station, not even by those who disliked Peter.
She heard something slam down in the DCI’s office, and she picked up her pace as the DCI’s raised voice followed the noise. A quick stop by the lounge for coffee showed that someone had brought in pastries-Peter, no doubt; er assumption that he’d pause for a pastry break on the way to the station had evidently been correct, and she was relieved that his appetite appeared to have returned with gusto-and she selected a chocolate croissant for herself. A single donut with hundreds and thousands lurked in the corner of the box, and she added it to her napkin. Balancing the pastries and the coffee, she scurried down to the interrogation room. Peter had at least made it that far, as the door was already unlocked and the lights on. She could still hear Peter’s raised voice as she closed the door behind her.
She rang Jake once she had had her croissant; immediately telling him they’d talk about her date some other time, she was able to get a quick update on the overnight. Jacques’ team had split into groups, covering Swinson’s, the lab, and the cottage. They’d brought reinforcements, and had four personnel at each of the sites, and had worked all night, with Penington serving as the local representative if questions arose. Jake and Mickey were at Swinson’s house, while James and Penington had gone to the lab to see if anything of interest appeared.
“There is one other thing, Rose. Can’t tell you over the phone, though-I’ll be there in about an hour.”
“Jake!” she protested.
“Trust me, Rose. Stay at the station-you’ll want to hear this when I get there.”
He brought her up to speed on a few final administrative issues and she rang off, intent on wading through yet more of the paperwork that always seemed to grow during a case. They’d been terrible about tracking expenses, and she was determined to bring that particular beast under control before the case wrapped.
The door behind her slammed open, startling her, and was immediately followed by Peter’s muffled curses as he slammed it back shut. She turned slowly; she’d never seen him so angry.
“I’ve just been accused of bloody dereliction for ‘handing over’ all aspects of the case to Torchwood.” Rose felt her jaw drop. “The bloody idiot doesn’t remember the bit from a few weeks back where he told us to partner with your lot; and now he’s threatening to remove me from the case altogether, even remove it from Penny’s care, and give it to someone who won’t ‘roll over for a bit of skirt.’” He stormed across the room. “And some bastard stole my bloody breakfast.”
A small laugh escaped Rose at the petulant tone of his last complaint. Everything up until that point had been serious, almost grave, from Peter’s career standpoint. And yet it was the food which most aggrieved him.
He glared at her as she fought down a smile. “Off with the bastard’s head!” she choked out.
“Too bloody right,” he muttered, surprising and pleasing Rose by giving her a quick kiss before stomping around the table.
She did laugh at his expression as he saw the donut sitting in his place at the table. “I heard you arguing,” she said as he looked at her.
He sat down heavily, staring contemplatively at the pastry. She watched him silently, her smile fading at the solemn look on his face.
He raised his eyes to her and said, softly, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She smiled at him, and wondered if she ought to ask more about the disagreement with the DCI, and whether there was anything she could do to smooth things over. She decided against suggesting that course of action, guessing that the last thing Peter would want was the impression that he needed her to intervene with his boss, and instead settled on getting down to business. As Peter ate his breakfast, she briefed him on what Jake had told her. As she finished, he raised his eyebrows in surprise before licking the frosting off his fingers.
Rose felt herself blush as she watched him, overcome by memories of the night before. His slow, cocky smile at her expression brought her back to reality.
She’d slept with him.
The utter realization hit her like the proverbial ton of bricks.
Peter watched her from across the table, his smile fading to a look of concern as he took in the change in her expression. “Rose. Are you alright?” He stood, moving around the table to crouch in front of her.
“We…You and I…”
“We did.” He looked at her, a faint flicker of fear crossing his features. He held her gaze and asked gently, “Do you wish we hadn’t?”
“No! No, ‘s not that. No.” She reached a hand out and cupped his cheek-he needed a shave. “’s just…I…These past few days have been something else.”
He stood, looked around, grabbed the closest chair and dragged it over to her. He sat, grasping her hands. “I know. I’d not even hoped I’d be able to…” His voice trailed off, and she felt herself blush.
“But you dreamt about it.” She felt a grin creep across her face.
“I did.” He blushed, and she felt her heart skip a beat-he had a remarkable ability to do that to her. The man in front of her was such a study in contrasts-she loved seeing the various sides of him, seeing how different he could be. He’d had no reservations, the night before, telling her that he’d had at least one explicit dream about her; but here, the morning after, he was shy about it.
She leaned forward, deciding something needed to be done. “So did I,” she whispered. She had, briefly, that night on his sofa; it had been nice, but nowhere near close to the reality of last night.
His expression changed, vulnerability replaced by want. “Did you?”
“Yes.” Her response was barely a whisper, her heartbeat rocketing along.
“You’ll have to tell me about it…later.” He pulled back, standing and moving away from her. “I don’t know if I’m going to be able to keep working with you, Rose.” His voice was calm; compared to the whispered warmth he’d just used, it was like a bucket of cold water.
“What?” Her voice was flat, her stomach dropping at the statement.
“I can’t be close to you without wanting to-needing to-touch you. Kissing would be preferable. Or other things.”
He had turned to look at her, his hands buried in his pockets. His eyes were black, burning as they met hers. She swallowed, licking her suddenly dry lips.
“You’re distracting me…” he whispered, slowing moving towards her. “You’re all I can think about.”
Her heart was trying to escape the confines of her ribcage, and she seemed to have trouble catching her breath as she held his gaze. “Peter…I…” She pulled her eyes away, looked to the side. He was as distracting to her as she was to him. Keeping her eyes focused on anything but him, she rushed her statement out. “We have to finish this case.”
She heard him move, felt his hands brace on the arms of her chair as he leaned down towards her. “Why is that, Rose?” He held her gaze, his face inches from hers.
“Because I want…” What did she want? To get to know him, to make love to him; to make him laugh. To see him happy, to learn to sleep the night through next to him; to wake up by his side.
Her eyes widened--she…she couldn’t even think the word. She barely knew him, really; how could she think she felt that for him? And yet it wasn’t the first time the word had sprung to her mind.
“You want to…?” he prompted, voice low.
“I want to be able to focus on you.” It wasn’t anywhere close to conveying what she really wanted, but it was the best she could do.
He lightly brushed his lips over her cheek before leaning back and replying, “And I, you…”
They stared at each other, the silence lasting for several moments, before Rose spoke. “We need to focus on work, though. Here. At the station. In this room.” She was trying to clear her mind; they really did need to find a way to keep what was going on between them out of the station. “You’re in trouble enough, Peter; and I’ve been warned to keep a clear head as well. I’ll not have you get further into it with your DCI because I’m being a distraction.” And I don’t want to see you hurt because of me, she added silently.
Peter’s eyes searched hers before he straightened. “You’re right.” There was resignation in his voice. “Much as I regret it. No point in getting each other in a spot of bother at work.” She flinched, and he hastened to add, “That wasn’t a complaint, Rose. We do both have jobs to do-sooner we get them done, the sooner we can…shift focus.” He grinned and returned to the opposite side of the table.
They worked in companionable silence, each periodically looking up at the other, catching their eye and smiling before returning to work. Rose felt his feet brush against hers as he leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs whilst reading one of the interviews. He looked up, winked at her, and resumed reading with that distracting smirk she’d noticed the night before; the corner of his lips upturned just enough to make him look deliciously mischievous.
She dragged her gaze back to the paper in front of her.
They were still reading in silence when Jake and Mickey entered the room. Rose glanced at her watch, and noted far more time had passed than she thought. Working with Peter could be dangerously distracting; she might have to do something about that.
“No James and Penny, then?” Jake asked, sitting in one of the chairs, and Rose was relieved not to be subjected to any teasing. Jake seemed brisk and business-like, and she responded in kind.
“Not that I’ve seen, no. Do we need them?” She set the paper she’d been reading down in front of her.
“Shouldn’t do-unless they want to hear about how the boys are completely dismantling Swinson’s house. They’re not happy.”
“And why’s that?” Peter had leaned forward, face neutral.
“There was a mole inside Headquarters.” Jake said conversationally.
Peter couldn’t hide his surprise; Rose felt her anger build. “There was what?” Her voice was sharp.
“Someone under Smith. ‘s why the money didn’t set bells off.” Mickey’s voice was cold.
“Ought we be discussing this here?” Peter inquired mildly.
“This room is safe as houses-one of the boys…fixed things overnight.”
Rose flinched as she watched Peter’s jaw clench. “Did they, now?” she said, keeping an eye on Peter.
“We checked with Penny before they did anything. We, ah, didn’t think it would be polite to wake you last night.” Jakes said it with a straight face; Mickey was studiously looking at his fingernails.
She suspected she knew now exactly what had caused the DCI’s rant that morning, and she wondered if Peter had known all along; it had probably all come out during the dressing-down. He’d not been accusing of “rolling over for a bit of skirt” in an abstract fashion. The DCI had made an educated and ultimately correct guess why his DI had called none of the shots the night before. Her gaze dropped to her lap as the ramification hit her.
If she’d not been with the DI, perhaps he’d not have been dressed down that morning, accused of dereliction of duty. She felt terrible, and wanted to crawl out of the room. Her stomach dropped further at the thought that Penington might also be in trouble with his superiors, because he’d covered while Peter was-for lack of a better word--unavailable.
She swallowed, asking softly, “What of the mole?” She felt Peter’s gaze shift to her, felt his focus on her, and kept her eyes averted.
“He’s being…questioned. Smith was furious; word is he tried to throttle the guy, yelled at him about tarnishing the reputation of Torchwood.” Jake’s voice held a note of amusement.
“When did they get him?” Peter’s voice was neutral.
“First thing this morning-no feedback yet, although I’m sure they’ll find something of use.” Mickey’s voice was dark, and Rose felt a shiver. Jacques was not someone to cross; especially when it involved what was effectively corporate treason.
“Ah.”
Silence fell over the room, and Rose felt the sudden need to flee the claustrophobic space. She stood hastily, the chair scraping back; three pairs of eyes focused on her. “I’m just…loo break.” She gestured vaguely to the door before walking out of the room.
It wasn’t a completely fabricated excuse, but she found herself reluctant to return to the small room after completing the errand. Her emotions were a jumbled heap: happiness for her relationship with Peter battling with guilt for getting him and Penington in trouble; worry over being suddenly being reduced, after all her hard work to build her career, to a bit of skirt who was compromising both the case and the career of a man she was coming to care for a great deal; and anger at one of their own for-at the very least-colluding with a murderer over money.
She wondered if a good night’s sleep would have made the day any easier, then dismissed the thought. Maybe everything would have been easier if she’d never kissed Peter Carlisle in a car in a rainstorm, but there was no way she’d trade any of it. After the battle to get as far with him as she’d gotten, there was no way in hell she’d ever consider giving it all up just to get her life back on an even keel. She’d rather be considered a bit of skirt by DCI Williams than be considered nothing at all by DI Carlisle, and the fact that she had flipped her priorities, so completely, so quickly, made her realize she needed air.
Rose let the PC working the desk know she’d be outside, before walking out the doors. She cut across the car park to the river, enjoying being outside of the oppressive building. It was another glorious day, the sky blue, the air crisp and clean. It smelled like spring after the rain of the night before, and she leaned against the rail next to the river, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths.
How soon until they could wrap this thing up? All they needed to do-all her team needed to do-was retrieve the last bits of tech which McGreevy had managed to make. They had a responsibility as well to work with the local constabulary to make sure McGreevy’s killer was apprehended; there were more than enough personnel on the ground from Torchwood to make sure Swinson could be taken if he was foolish enough to return to any of his haunts. Their part would then be over, Jacques’s team taking full control of any remaining investigatory issues, and she could stop worrying about maintaining a professional relationship with the DI; could concentrate on building a personal one instead.
She didn’t want to leave Kendal, not yet-maybe, when this was done, she’d finally take some of the leave she’d accrued over her years of service. It would be such a relief to slice through all the complicated layers, to not be representatives of Torchwood and Kendal and just be Rose and Peter
“Thought you might be out here. You’ve a dreadful habit of not heeding your own orders, although you at least told someone where you intended to be.”
She opened her eyes to see Peter standing to her right. His hands were in his coat pockets, his jaw clenched tightly. She had hoped she’d not be away long enough to be missed, and wondered if they’d drawn straws to see who’d go hunting for her when she failed to return in a timely manner-or if Peter had ever let any of them entertain the notion that he wouldn’t be the one to fetch her.
“I needed to think,” she said, simply.
“Alone? Outside?” His voice was disbelieving.
“Yes!” She snapped. She closed her eyes, clenched her hands around the railing. She bent in half, stretching aching muscles, before straightening once more. She could feel Peter watching her, his silence conveying his disapproval, and she opened her eyes and turned to him. “I can take care of myself, Peter.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’ve no doubt you can. However, that doesn’t mean you ought to offer up a lovely target.” He paused, considering, before continuing, “Come to think of it, who’d you come to the station with?”
“I…” Rose, feeling interrogated, realized he was bloody good at his job. “It doesn’t matter.”
“You didn’t come with anyone, did you? There wasn’t any of your team waiting at the hotel when you got there, was there? We don’t know where he is, Rose.”
“I know that, Peter!” God, she was tired. She sighed, waiting for him to snipe back at her.
“What’s wrong, Rose?”
She looked at him in surprise, saw his eyes full of concern. She looked away, muttering, “Nothing.”
She heard him blow out a breath; saw him turn out of the corner of her eye. “Last night…” He paused; she turned, saw him staring out at the river. “Last night was one of the best of my life. This morning…well. Not the best, really. But I can live with that, if it’s the price for the night before.” He turned, met her eyes. “But not if you’re upset about what happened.”
“I told you, I don’t regret it. I’m not upset about it.”
“Then tell me what’s wrong.” The bastard was still playing Detective on her, using his skills to get her to tell him what she was thinking, switching tactics now that his first line of questioning hadn’t worked. The thought made her dig her heels in. It was unreasonable and irrational, she knew, but she couldn’t help herself. She remained silent, and Peter sighed.
“Is this how it’s going to be, then? A fight after each date?”
She shifted guiltily.
“If you’re going to be silent, I may as well talk. Are you feeling the need to punish one of us?” He paused, watched her for a reaction, continued. “Perhaps yourself, still feeling you should be for what we talked about? If so, don’t bother.” She kept stonily silent, and he carried on. “Not embarrassment, I don’t think-you were fine enough when Mickey and Jake walked in…”
His gaze sharpened as he thought. He moved closer to her, leaned down to whisper, “Could it be tied to the room, then, to it being cleared overnight?”
She must have given something away, in spite of her best efforts. “Rose…” He drew her name out.
“Did Williams yell at you for that this morning?” she asked, quietly. She practically heard the pieces click together in Peter’s mind.
“This morning wasn’t your, or Torchwood’s, fault, Rose.”
She sighed, conceding defeat. “I know. I just…What if you hadn’t been ‘unavailable’ last night? And now Penny’s in trouble as well.”
“The esteemed Chief would have found something else to yell at me about-Torchwood were a convenient excuse. And Penny-he’s come out of it just fine. He’s got credit for being responsible and such whilst I was off being conveniently ‘unavailable’. And anyway, I was…quite…unavailable.”
Rose blushed. “Quite.”
Peter’s eyes crinkled in a smile. “Delightfully so.” He turned to look at the river once more. “Was that what bothered you in there? My dressing down?”
Rose turned, looking at Peter as her hip rested against the rail. “Somewhat, yes. I don’t like thinking I got you into trouble.”
“No more than I could get into on my own.”
“’Rolling over for a bit of skirt,’” she quoted.
He winced. “I shouldn’t have mentioned that.”
“It’s what he said, isn’t it?”
“He was out of line for saying it. Woe betide the man who thinks of you as a ‘bit of skirt’.” He looked sidelong at her; she could see it out of the corner of her eye. “Mind you, not that it isn’t a lovely bit of skirt.” He was trying to lighten the mood, she knew, but she felt unable to give in just yet.
“And…then there’s knowing that someone else in the organisation helped on this. It’s…I feel betrayed, y’know?”
He turned to face her, and she continued. “And then I’m still all in a jumble about…” Her chest constricted, and she added softly, “About us.”
“What about us?” His voice was gentle.
“I…I don’t know. I just…”
“Rose.” Peter’s voice was low and warm, and she returned her gaze to his. “Don’t overthink it. One date at a time, no more, no less. Dinner tonight-out, even-and then we’ll see what happens. Maybe another date.”
She sighed. “Yeah, ‘s just…it’s been a while since I’ve done this.”
“Me too. I don’t sleep with everyone I work with,” he said lightly, his lips curving into a gentle smile.
He was trying again to coax a smile out of her, and she found herself responding, falling into the rapport. “I should hope not. Although Jake would be over the moon…” Rose laughed at Peter’s shocked expression. “You’re a very attractive man, Peter.”
His eyes darkened, and her breath caught. “Is that so?” He leaned towards her, his voice deepening.
“Oh yes. Very much so.” Her own voice was breathy, and she leaned towards him for a kiss.
“Rose!” She jumped back with a start at the sound of Mickey’s voice bellowing in the distance. Peter looked chagrined as he took a step back.
“Bloody work,” he muttered.
She laughed, and took his hand. "Duty calls."
A/N: Thank you to
principia_coh for the mug of cocoa! I'm sure Peter and Rose will put it to good use ;)
Rose was in bed with him.
He quickly turned the light on before eagerly rolling over to face Rose. She was there. There was no empty bed, no cold sheet, no pillow that didn’t smell like her no matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise. There was only Rose, tousled from sleep, her skin fair and her cheeks a deep shade of pink. He thought he had never seen a more beautiful woman, and never had she been more beautiful than at that moment. He wanted to leap out of bed and throw open the window and shout to the world, “Rose Tyler is here.” Instead, her eyes met his sleepily, and he settled for smiling at her.
“How’d you sleep?” he whispered.
“Terribly,” she confessed. Rose sat up, rubbing her eyes before turning to him. “New bed, new place-and I’m not quite used to sharing a bed. I was worried I’d wake you, or oversleep.”
“Oh.” He sat up, his brain blanking on a response. He ruffled his hair as he tried to think of a better answer.
“Wouldn’t change it for anything, though,” she whispered, leaning into him, looking at him sidelong. He saw a smile on her lips, and he leaned into her in return.
“It’ll just take more practice,” he offered lightly, enjoying her reaction, her eyes growing wide. He moved, throwing the covers back and climbing out of bed. He turned back to offer Rose a cup of coffee, and froze at the vision in front of him. Rose, rumpled from both sleep and sex, sitting under his red duvet, in the middle of his bed, wearing his shirt. His heart skipped a beat, his breath catching as he realized just how much he cared for her, how much he wanted her, wanted this.
“Peter?” Her voice was soft, holding a note of concern.
He scrambled for something to say that wasn’t a dramatic proclamation of his giddy delight at her presence. “Would you like some coffee? I, ah, need to get ready for work.”
She wrinkled her brow, picking up on the fact that what he said wasn’t what he had been thinking, but slowly nodded. “That’d be nice, thank you.”
He hurried downstairs, setting the coffee to brew. As he waited for the pot to finish-and for his emotions to subside to a manageable level-he hastily cleaned up the mess from the night before, moving the remaining dishes to the kitchen before folding up the blanket. Once the coffee was done, he poured out two mugs; to his, he added cream and sugar. He’d seen Rose put cream in hers, and added a bit; he wasn’t sure about sugar, and so he grabbed the small sugar bowl. He placed a spoon in Rose’s mug, and carried the two mugs and small bowl upstairs.
Rose was still sitting in bed, trying to wake up fully. He set her coffee on the bed stand closest to her. “I, ah, wasn’t sure about sugar.”
She slid over to the coffee, and he savoured the delighted surprise on her face as she saw he’d added cream. “Thank you.” She added a small amount of sugar, and took an appreciative sip, her eyes watching him over the rim of the mug.
“I’ve just got to shower and get dressed,” he said, moving to the wardrobe, taking a long draught of coffee as he tried desperately not to imagine what it would be like to shower with Rose. He opened the doors, setting his mug in its usual perch on one of the shelves as he searched for something to wear.
Clean pants and vest in hand, he gave Rose a final smile before crossing to the en suite to take a quick shower. As he washed, he said a silent prayer of thanks that he’d shaved the night before; he emerged into the bedroom a scant five minutes after he’d left it, freshly showered and teeth brushed.
Rose had dressed in her clothes from the night before, and was sitting at the edge of the bed drinking her coffee. Her eyes widened as he walked into the room, and he wondered if they might be able to-
No. He needed to clear his head, had to get ready for the workday. Maybe they’d finally solve the case, once and for all; after which, he’d find a way to have a proper lie-in with Rose.
He gave her another smile and crossed to the wardrobe once more; his coffee was where he had left it, and he gratefully took another gulp of the warm liquid, using its taste to centre himself and concentrate on his morning routine. He was conscious of Rose watching him as he dressed, her eyes following his hands as he buttoned his shirt, as he slid on his trousers. He pulled a belt through the loops on the trousers, buckling it, before moving to sit on the bed and pull on his socks.
Standing, he grabbed a jumper off of one of the shelves and pulled it on in one swift move, rumpling his freshly-combed hair. With one hand, he smoothed it back while with the other he retrieved his mug from its perch in the wardrobe. Rose was still watching him as he closed the doors before turning to her, fighting down a smile.
“Will I do?”
“I had no idea getting dressed could be so...sexy,” she replied, sounding slightly awed.
“It’s not nearly as fun as the opposite, but it has its moments.” He moved to the line of shoes, taking care to find a matching pair. Rose moved to join him, and he waited for her inevitable comment about his mismatched shoes.
She leaned against him, whispering, “I’d like to see it again sometime.”
He nearly fell over, the serious comment catching him off-guard as he tried to put on a shoe. He straightened, turning to her, and she added with a grin, “But only if your shoes match.”
She laughed, moving away from him as he stood gobsmackedfor a moment by Rose’s rapid-fire shift from seductive to playful. He came to his senses and chased her around to the other side of the bed, cornering her next to the window.
She was still giggling as he leaned in for a kiss.
They made it out of the bedroom ten minutes-and several kisses-later. Peter quickly deposited their mugs in the kitchen sink once they were downstairs, before squiring her out the front door. The sky was just showing light as they drove into town, and he noticed Rose worrying her bottom lip.
“D’you regret staying?” he asked bluntly, deciding that if she did he’d rather know immediately.
She paused only briefly before replying, “No. It…it was the best night of my life here.” Her voice was soft, and he felt his heart skip a beat at the admission.
“I’m glad,” he replied quietly.
They reached her hotel shortly after, and he dropped her off with a light kiss. “I’ll walk you in.”
“There’s no need.”
“You shouldn’t be alone.”
“You shouldn’t be alone. I’m sure someone from my team will be skulking around my room, hoping to hear whether or not I think you’re a good shag.” She grinned at him, tongue caught between her teeth.
Peter’s heart stopped for a second. For how long had he longed for Rose to turn that teasing grin on him? How many times had he died of jealousy whilst she showered it on others? He marvelled at the miracle that he might be able to expect to be at the receiving end of that grin for an indefinite portion of his future. He swallowed thickly and contemplated following her up to her room for reasons that had nothing to do with her safety.
“What will you tell them?” he asked, hoarsely.
Her grin widened. “Wouldn’t you like to know? You’ve got to get to the station,” she pointed out, and he wondered how obvious it was that the station was the farthest thing from his mind. She sobered. “And, to be honest, I’m more worried about you being alone while you get there than I am about getting myself into the hotel. So ring me when you get there, yeah?”
He shook his head mentally to clear it and nodded. “Yeah. See you in a bit, then.” He leaned in for one last, soft kiss.
“In a bit.” Rose paused, before adding, “Thank you, Peter.” She climbed out, closing the door gently behind her before turning to enter the hotel. He watched her until she turned to climb the stairs, before engaging the clutch and driving on. He glanced at the clock, deciding he had plenty of time to pick up pastries, along with a proper coffee, before going to the station.
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
Rose fully expected to find one of her team camped outside her door; instead, she found a simple note from Jake. “Hope you enjoyed your night. Check in with me in the morning.”
She wondered what she had done to be so lucky-to have had a spectacular night with Peter and to have the most amazing friends as co-workers. A dark corner of her mind-the one that reminded her of how wonderful things had been with the Doctor just before everything changed-wondered how long it would last.
She waited for Peter’s call-building him in time for a pastry break, which she assumed he would make-and was relieved when he rang to let her know he’d made it. He sounded distracted, and rang off quickly, but she at least knew he was safe.
Rose lost herself in her thoughts as she showered and got ready to go into the station. She’d learned to take what the universe could offer, to gratefully accept its gifts when they were provided. She’d do what she could to keep Peter safe, as she did for everyone who was dear to her-but she’d not let herself be ruled by the fear that he might be ripped away from her.
Rose shook her head, trying to clear it. She and Peter had had sex, yes-and she’d slept with him quite literally. Why was she already thinking of their relationship as a long-term one? She hoped she and Peter would make the thing between last, but there were still a lot of things to be dealt with-first and foremost amongst them being the case.
She sighed, pulling her hair back after she finished dressing. She took one last look in the mirror to make sure she was presentable, and then set out for the station. Jacques had sent several of his team north-and while that group worked for him, they’d still be coordinating with her. She hated the idea of Swinson having a teleport; she had no doubt he’d not hesitate to use it to serve whatever ends he required, and she worried that someone from the team would be caught unawares by him. There was still no conclusive proof that Swinson had killed McGreevy-a knife had yet to be discovered, nor was there any physical evidence that Swinson had been near the warehouse-but he was their only suspect. His real employers might not hesitate to remove an obstacle, be it human or not-but they’d need a clear reason for doing so.
The drive to the station was short, and she arrived just past half seven. Peter’s car was in the car park, and she felt her pulse accelerate. How was she going to be able to act normal around him? She idly wondered if Penington had changed his bet in the station pool the day before, after walking in on her and Peter. If anyone was going to profit off of the thing, she hoped it would be the DC.
As she walked into the main room, she was conscious of how quiet it was. The few people present were silent; and as she crossed the room to the hall, she discovered the reason. DCI Williams was dressing someone down in his office, quite loudly.
She was hardly surprised when she heard Peter’s voice respond. She couldn’t hear what was being said, but his tone carried a measure of controlled fury which she hoped never to hear directed at her.
The DCI must have been lying in wait-from what she’d seen, he rarely arrived before nine, and often left before five. She’d often wondered who he knew, that he could keep his job without any apparent work; he wasn’t liked in the station, not even by those who disliked Peter.
She heard something slam down in the DCI’s office, and she picked up her pace as the DCI’s raised voice followed the noise. A quick stop by the lounge for coffee showed that someone had brought in pastries-Peter, no doubt; er assumption that he’d pause for a pastry break on the way to the station had evidently been correct, and she was relieved that his appetite appeared to have returned with gusto-and she selected a chocolate croissant for herself. A single donut with hundreds and thousands lurked in the corner of the box, and she added it to her napkin. Balancing the pastries and the coffee, she scurried down to the interrogation room. Peter had at least made it that far, as the door was already unlocked and the lights on. She could still hear Peter’s raised voice as she closed the door behind her.
She rang Jake once she had had her croissant; immediately telling him they’d talk about her date some other time, she was able to get a quick update on the overnight. Jacques’ team had split into groups, covering Swinson’s, the lab, and the cottage. They’d brought reinforcements, and had four personnel at each of the sites, and had worked all night, with Penington serving as the local representative if questions arose. Jake and Mickey were at Swinson’s house, while James and Penington had gone to the lab to see if anything of interest appeared.
“There is one other thing, Rose. Can’t tell you over the phone, though-I’ll be there in about an hour.”
“Jake!” she protested.
“Trust me, Rose. Stay at the station-you’ll want to hear this when I get there.”
He brought her up to speed on a few final administrative issues and she rang off, intent on wading through yet more of the paperwork that always seemed to grow during a case. They’d been terrible about tracking expenses, and she was determined to bring that particular beast under control before the case wrapped.
The door behind her slammed open, startling her, and was immediately followed by Peter’s muffled curses as he slammed it back shut. She turned slowly; she’d never seen him so angry.
“I’ve just been accused of bloody dereliction for ‘handing over’ all aspects of the case to Torchwood.” Rose felt her jaw drop. “The bloody idiot doesn’t remember the bit from a few weeks back where he told us to partner with your lot; and now he’s threatening to remove me from the case altogether, even remove it from Penny’s care, and give it to someone who won’t ‘roll over for a bit of skirt.’” He stormed across the room. “And some bastard stole my bloody breakfast.”
A small laugh escaped Rose at the petulant tone of his last complaint. Everything up until that point had been serious, almost grave, from Peter’s career standpoint. And yet it was the food which most aggrieved him.
He glared at her as she fought down a smile. “Off with the bastard’s head!” she choked out.
“Too bloody right,” he muttered, surprising and pleasing Rose by giving her a quick kiss before stomping around the table.
She did laugh at his expression as he saw the donut sitting in his place at the table. “I heard you arguing,” she said as he looked at her.
He sat down heavily, staring contemplatively at the pastry. She watched him silently, her smile fading at the solemn look on his face.
He raised his eyes to her and said, softly, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She smiled at him, and wondered if she ought to ask more about the disagreement with the DCI, and whether there was anything she could do to smooth things over. She decided against suggesting that course of action, guessing that the last thing Peter would want was the impression that he needed her to intervene with his boss, and instead settled on getting down to business. As Peter ate his breakfast, she briefed him on what Jake had told her. As she finished, he raised his eyebrows in surprise before licking the frosting off his fingers.
Rose felt herself blush as she watched him, overcome by memories of the night before. His slow, cocky smile at her expression brought her back to reality.
She’d slept with him.
The utter realization hit her like the proverbial ton of bricks.
Peter watched her from across the table, his smile fading to a look of concern as he took in the change in her expression. “Rose. Are you alright?” He stood, moving around the table to crouch in front of her.
“We…You and I…”
“We did.” He looked at her, a faint flicker of fear crossing his features. He held her gaze and asked gently, “Do you wish we hadn’t?”
“No! No, ‘s not that. No.” She reached a hand out and cupped his cheek-he needed a shave. “’s just…I…These past few days have been something else.”
He stood, looked around, grabbed the closest chair and dragged it over to her. He sat, grasping her hands. “I know. I’d not even hoped I’d be able to…” His voice trailed off, and she felt herself blush.
“But you dreamt about it.” She felt a grin creep across her face.
“I did.” He blushed, and she felt her heart skip a beat-he had a remarkable ability to do that to her. The man in front of her was such a study in contrasts-she loved seeing the various sides of him, seeing how different he could be. He’d had no reservations, the night before, telling her that he’d had at least one explicit dream about her; but here, the morning after, he was shy about it.
She leaned forward, deciding something needed to be done. “So did I,” she whispered. She had, briefly, that night on his sofa; it had been nice, but nowhere near close to the reality of last night.
His expression changed, vulnerability replaced by want. “Did you?”
“Yes.” Her response was barely a whisper, her heartbeat rocketing along.
“You’ll have to tell me about it…later.” He pulled back, standing and moving away from her. “I don’t know if I’m going to be able to keep working with you, Rose.” His voice was calm; compared to the whispered warmth he’d just used, it was like a bucket of cold water.
“What?” Her voice was flat, her stomach dropping at the statement.
“I can’t be close to you without wanting to-needing to-touch you. Kissing would be preferable. Or other things.”
He had turned to look at her, his hands buried in his pockets. His eyes were black, burning as they met hers. She swallowed, licking her suddenly dry lips.
“You’re distracting me…” he whispered, slowing moving towards her. “You’re all I can think about.”
Her heart was trying to escape the confines of her ribcage, and she seemed to have trouble catching her breath as she held his gaze. “Peter…I…” She pulled her eyes away, looked to the side. He was as distracting to her as she was to him. Keeping her eyes focused on anything but him, she rushed her statement out. “We have to finish this case.”
She heard him move, felt his hands brace on the arms of her chair as he leaned down towards her. “Why is that, Rose?” He held her gaze, his face inches from hers.
“Because I want…” What did she want? To get to know him, to make love to him; to make him laugh. To see him happy, to learn to sleep the night through next to him; to wake up by his side.
Her eyes widened--she…she couldn’t even think the word. She barely knew him, really; how could she think she felt that for him? And yet it wasn’t the first time the word had sprung to her mind.
“You want to…?” he prompted, voice low.
“I want to be able to focus on you.” It wasn’t anywhere close to conveying what she really wanted, but it was the best she could do.
He lightly brushed his lips over her cheek before leaning back and replying, “And I, you…”
They stared at each other, the silence lasting for several moments, before Rose spoke. “We need to focus on work, though. Here. At the station. In this room.” She was trying to clear her mind; they really did need to find a way to keep what was going on between them out of the station. “You’re in trouble enough, Peter; and I’ve been warned to keep a clear head as well. I’ll not have you get further into it with your DCI because I’m being a distraction.” And I don’t want to see you hurt because of me, she added silently.
Peter’s eyes searched hers before he straightened. “You’re right.” There was resignation in his voice. “Much as I regret it. No point in getting each other in a spot of bother at work.” She flinched, and he hastened to add, “That wasn’t a complaint, Rose. We do both have jobs to do-sooner we get them done, the sooner we can…shift focus.” He grinned and returned to the opposite side of the table.
They worked in companionable silence, each periodically looking up at the other, catching their eye and smiling before returning to work. Rose felt his feet brush against hers as he leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs whilst reading one of the interviews. He looked up, winked at her, and resumed reading with that distracting smirk she’d noticed the night before; the corner of his lips upturned just enough to make him look deliciously mischievous.
She dragged her gaze back to the paper in front of her.
They were still reading in silence when Jake and Mickey entered the room. Rose glanced at her watch, and noted far more time had passed than she thought. Working with Peter could be dangerously distracting; she might have to do something about that.
“No James and Penny, then?” Jake asked, sitting in one of the chairs, and Rose was relieved not to be subjected to any teasing. Jake seemed brisk and business-like, and she responded in kind.
“Not that I’ve seen, no. Do we need them?” She set the paper she’d been reading down in front of her.
“Shouldn’t do-unless they want to hear about how the boys are completely dismantling Swinson’s house. They’re not happy.”
“And why’s that?” Peter had leaned forward, face neutral.
“There was a mole inside Headquarters.” Jake said conversationally.
Peter couldn’t hide his surprise; Rose felt her anger build. “There was what?” Her voice was sharp.
“Someone under Smith. ‘s why the money didn’t set bells off.” Mickey’s voice was cold.
“Ought we be discussing this here?” Peter inquired mildly.
“This room is safe as houses-one of the boys…fixed things overnight.”
Rose flinched as she watched Peter’s jaw clench. “Did they, now?” she said, keeping an eye on Peter.
“We checked with Penny before they did anything. We, ah, didn’t think it would be polite to wake you last night.” Jakes said it with a straight face; Mickey was studiously looking at his fingernails.
She suspected she knew now exactly what had caused the DCI’s rant that morning, and she wondered if Peter had known all along; it had probably all come out during the dressing-down. He’d not been accusing of “rolling over for a bit of skirt” in an abstract fashion. The DCI had made an educated and ultimately correct guess why his DI had called none of the shots the night before. Her gaze dropped to her lap as the ramification hit her.
If she’d not been with the DI, perhaps he’d not have been dressed down that morning, accused of dereliction of duty. She felt terrible, and wanted to crawl out of the room. Her stomach dropped further at the thought that Penington might also be in trouble with his superiors, because he’d covered while Peter was-for lack of a better word--unavailable.
She swallowed, asking softly, “What of the mole?” She felt Peter’s gaze shift to her, felt his focus on her, and kept her eyes averted.
“He’s being…questioned. Smith was furious; word is he tried to throttle the guy, yelled at him about tarnishing the reputation of Torchwood.” Jake’s voice held a note of amusement.
“When did they get him?” Peter’s voice was neutral.
“First thing this morning-no feedback yet, although I’m sure they’ll find something of use.” Mickey’s voice was dark, and Rose felt a shiver. Jacques was not someone to cross; especially when it involved what was effectively corporate treason.
“Ah.”
Silence fell over the room, and Rose felt the sudden need to flee the claustrophobic space. She stood hastily, the chair scraping back; three pairs of eyes focused on her. “I’m just…loo break.” She gestured vaguely to the door before walking out of the room.
It wasn’t a completely fabricated excuse, but she found herself reluctant to return to the small room after completing the errand. Her emotions were a jumbled heap: happiness for her relationship with Peter battling with guilt for getting him and Penington in trouble; worry over being suddenly being reduced, after all her hard work to build her career, to a bit of skirt who was compromising both the case and the career of a man she was coming to care for a great deal; and anger at one of their own for-at the very least-colluding with a murderer over money.
She wondered if a good night’s sleep would have made the day any easier, then dismissed the thought. Maybe everything would have been easier if she’d never kissed Peter Carlisle in a car in a rainstorm, but there was no way she’d trade any of it. After the battle to get as far with him as she’d gotten, there was no way in hell she’d ever consider giving it all up just to get her life back on an even keel. She’d rather be considered a bit of skirt by DCI Williams than be considered nothing at all by DI Carlisle, and the fact that she had flipped her priorities, so completely, so quickly, made her realize she needed air.
Rose let the PC working the desk know she’d be outside, before walking out the doors. She cut across the car park to the river, enjoying being outside of the oppressive building. It was another glorious day, the sky blue, the air crisp and clean. It smelled like spring after the rain of the night before, and she leaned against the rail next to the river, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths.
How soon until they could wrap this thing up? All they needed to do-all her team needed to do-was retrieve the last bits of tech which McGreevy had managed to make. They had a responsibility as well to work with the local constabulary to make sure McGreevy’s killer was apprehended; there were more than enough personnel on the ground from Torchwood to make sure Swinson could be taken if he was foolish enough to return to any of his haunts. Their part would then be over, Jacques’s team taking full control of any remaining investigatory issues, and she could stop worrying about maintaining a professional relationship with the DI; could concentrate on building a personal one instead.
She didn’t want to leave Kendal, not yet-maybe, when this was done, she’d finally take some of the leave she’d accrued over her years of service. It would be such a relief to slice through all the complicated layers, to not be representatives of Torchwood and Kendal and just be Rose and Peter
“Thought you might be out here. You’ve a dreadful habit of not heeding your own orders, although you at least told someone where you intended to be.”
She opened her eyes to see Peter standing to her right. His hands were in his coat pockets, his jaw clenched tightly. She had hoped she’d not be away long enough to be missed, and wondered if they’d drawn straws to see who’d go hunting for her when she failed to return in a timely manner-or if Peter had ever let any of them entertain the notion that he wouldn’t be the one to fetch her.
“I needed to think,” she said, simply.
“Alone? Outside?” His voice was disbelieving.
“Yes!” She snapped. She closed her eyes, clenched her hands around the railing. She bent in half, stretching aching muscles, before straightening once more. She could feel Peter watching her, his silence conveying his disapproval, and she opened her eyes and turned to him. “I can take care of myself, Peter.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’ve no doubt you can. However, that doesn’t mean you ought to offer up a lovely target.” He paused, considering, before continuing, “Come to think of it, who’d you come to the station with?”
“I…” Rose, feeling interrogated, realized he was bloody good at his job. “It doesn’t matter.”
“You didn’t come with anyone, did you? There wasn’t any of your team waiting at the hotel when you got there, was there? We don’t know where he is, Rose.”
“I know that, Peter!” God, she was tired. She sighed, waiting for him to snipe back at her.
“What’s wrong, Rose?”
She looked at him in surprise, saw his eyes full of concern. She looked away, muttering, “Nothing.”
She heard him blow out a breath; saw him turn out of the corner of her eye. “Last night…” He paused; she turned, saw him staring out at the river. “Last night was one of the best of my life. This morning…well. Not the best, really. But I can live with that, if it’s the price for the night before.” He turned, met her eyes. “But not if you’re upset about what happened.”
“I told you, I don’t regret it. I’m not upset about it.”
“Then tell me what’s wrong.” The bastard was still playing Detective on her, using his skills to get her to tell him what she was thinking, switching tactics now that his first line of questioning hadn’t worked. The thought made her dig her heels in. It was unreasonable and irrational, she knew, but she couldn’t help herself. She remained silent, and Peter sighed.
“Is this how it’s going to be, then? A fight after each date?”
She shifted guiltily.
“If you’re going to be silent, I may as well talk. Are you feeling the need to punish one of us?” He paused, watched her for a reaction, continued. “Perhaps yourself, still feeling you should be for what we talked about? If so, don’t bother.” She kept stonily silent, and he carried on. “Not embarrassment, I don’t think-you were fine enough when Mickey and Jake walked in…”
His gaze sharpened as he thought. He moved closer to her, leaned down to whisper, “Could it be tied to the room, then, to it being cleared overnight?”
She must have given something away, in spite of her best efforts. “Rose…” He drew her name out.
“Did Williams yell at you for that this morning?” she asked, quietly. She practically heard the pieces click together in Peter’s mind.
“This morning wasn’t your, or Torchwood’s, fault, Rose.”
She sighed, conceding defeat. “I know. I just…What if you hadn’t been ‘unavailable’ last night? And now Penny’s in trouble as well.”
“The esteemed Chief would have found something else to yell at me about-Torchwood were a convenient excuse. And Penny-he’s come out of it just fine. He’s got credit for being responsible and such whilst I was off being conveniently ‘unavailable’. And anyway, I was…quite…unavailable.”
Rose blushed. “Quite.”
Peter’s eyes crinkled in a smile. “Delightfully so.” He turned to look at the river once more. “Was that what bothered you in there? My dressing down?”
Rose turned, looking at Peter as her hip rested against the rail. “Somewhat, yes. I don’t like thinking I got you into trouble.”
“No more than I could get into on my own.”
“’Rolling over for a bit of skirt,’” she quoted.
He winced. “I shouldn’t have mentioned that.”
“It’s what he said, isn’t it?”
“He was out of line for saying it. Woe betide the man who thinks of you as a ‘bit of skirt’.” He looked sidelong at her; she could see it out of the corner of her eye. “Mind you, not that it isn’t a lovely bit of skirt.” He was trying to lighten the mood, she knew, but she felt unable to give in just yet.
“And…then there’s knowing that someone else in the organisation helped on this. It’s…I feel betrayed, y’know?”
He turned to face her, and she continued. “And then I’m still all in a jumble about…” Her chest constricted, and she added softly, “About us.”
“What about us?” His voice was gentle.
“I…I don’t know. I just…”
“Rose.” Peter’s voice was low and warm, and she returned her gaze to his. “Don’t overthink it. One date at a time, no more, no less. Dinner tonight-out, even-and then we’ll see what happens. Maybe another date.”
She sighed. “Yeah, ‘s just…it’s been a while since I’ve done this.”
“Me too. I don’t sleep with everyone I work with,” he said lightly, his lips curving into a gentle smile.
He was trying again to coax a smile out of her, and she found herself responding, falling into the rapport. “I should hope not. Although Jake would be over the moon…” Rose laughed at Peter’s shocked expression. “You’re a very attractive man, Peter.”
His eyes darkened, and her breath caught. “Is that so?” He leaned towards her, his voice deepening.
“Oh yes. Very much so.” Her own voice was breathy, and she leaned towards him for a kiss.
“Rose!” She jumped back with a start at the sound of Mickey’s voice bellowing in the distance. Peter looked chagrined as he took a step back.
“Bloody work,” he muttered.
She laughed, and took his hand. "Duty calls."
A/N: Thank you to
principia_coh for the mug of cocoa! I'm sure Peter and Rose will put it to good use ;)