A Yorkshire Thing, Part 2 of 2

[jlrpuck_fic]

He’d awoken that morning as content as he could ever remember, Rose curled next to him under the duvet. He’d had no grand plans for the trip north, had just known she needed a break, and he wanted her to himself for a bit. He’d been astonished to rediscover the day before, just how very much he loved her, as though he’d somehow forgotten the incredible depth of what he felt for her in amongst living their everyday lives.

She shifted, her skin brushing his; a soft smile ghosted across her face before she settled and returned to deep sleep. He scooted closer to her, wanting his body to stay in contact with hers; they were both still naked from the night before, and he savoured the feel of her along his body, the scent of her shampoo, of her filling his nostrils. He was careful not to wake her up, was instead content to remain laying there watching her sleep.

He got chills just thinking about it, about how lucky he was to have Rose. It had been just two years since she’d come into his life, but he couldn’t fathom a day without her. He’d thought he’d been in love before-several times, in fact. But what he had with Rose; it defied description. If he thought too much about it, he found himself growing breathless from the sheer intensity of the emotion. He wanted nothing more than to see her happy, to know that he could make her smile, and he worried incessantly that something would happen to take that away from him, to harm her. He’d learned to have faith in her abilities-had had to learn, had to accept that it was part of who she was-but he still lived in fear that he’d lose her one day.

He brushed a soft kiss across her cheek, and she sighed contentedly.

The one time he’d been married, it had been nothing like this. Loreen had been worried only about herself, had only been happy when he was tying himself into knots trying to please her; and her affair and their ensuing divorce had, he thought, permanently soured him on the idea of forming a legally binding partnership with anyone. His disdain for marriage had only increased when he saw how easily Natalie had disregarded her vows in Blackpool. He’d deliberately seduced her, intrigued by her and flattered by her clear interest; but she’d always had the power to say no, to honour the vows she’d made. To see those vows thrown away had only reinforced his opinion that it was a silly thing, anyway; that two people truly in love wouldn’t need a magistrate or vicar to offer their seal of approval.

And yet, as he looked at Rose, he could think of very little else he wanted in the world, but for the two of them to be married.

She shifted again, and he moved back slightly to give her room. She was waking up, her body slowly growing more alert. He loved watching her wake up in the mornings, her skin a pale cream, her eyes sleepy and hooded; the smile she gave him when she saw him first thing always made him want to make love to her, always helped to get him through the day.

She slowly blinked her eyes open, taking in her environs, and he could tell the minute she realized he was there, her hand lightly brushing against his thigh. They’d made love countless times, in innumerable places and many ways; but her gentle touch could still set his blood afire. And it was the quiet stillness of their mornings, waking up next to each other, which still affected him the most.

She rolled to her side, quietly watching him as he watched her, and he freed a hand from the confines of the duvet to lightly trace the contours of her face. He followed the path of his fingers, all under the watchful gaze of his beloved Rose. He’d never tire of this, would always want to wake up next to her, no matter where, or when.

He pulled his hand back and, without thinking, softly asked, “Marry me?” Her visible surprise was a mirror of his internal reaction. He’d certainly not meant to say that-but as the words hung between them, he realized that he very much meant it.

“What?” She looked...stunned.

“I want to marry you, Rose. I want us to get married.” He meant every word of it, his heart already leaping along excitedly at the prospect of knowing she was his wife, that he was hers as much as she was his. What was it about a bloody ceremony that could cause such intensification in feelings?

“I...” Her voice faded. He watched Rose try to process his question, her eyes remaining locked on his as she tried to come up with an answer. He’d not expected an immediate, gleeful “Yes!”, especially given their earlier discussions about his past marriage and his feelings on the institution, but her lengthening silence was growing slightly alarming.

“I...” She tried again, finally nodding when she couldn’t get the words out. He felt his heart leap in joy, and couldn’t resist asking her when she’d like to get married. She wound up in his arms, snuggled against him, as they discussed the particulars.

He’d certainly not anticipated that she would want to elope, but he could understand her arguments. He quite honestly didn’t care either way-he had no family to invite, and precious few friends-but he wanted to do it in a way that would make her happy. Elopement she wanted, and elopement she’d have.

He brushed another kiss across her hair as she lay in his arms, his heart soaring at the thought that the woman he was holding to him would be his wife. And, as she’d pointed out with humour, he’d be her husband. He’d thought he was a bit rubbish at being a husband his first go, and he desperately wanted to do it right this time.

Rose turned slightly, her breasts pushing against him as she leaned up for a proper kiss, and they were soon once more making gentle love, whispering promises of happiness to each other.

He would have been quite content to spend another day in, feeling Rose move underneath him or above him; his hands making her moan as he recovered, her hands stroking him-but if they were to be married before they returned to London, there were things to take care of. For one, he’d only booked the B&B through the end of the week; if they wanted to have a honeymoon night, they’d need to get everything in order and done by the next day.

Then there was the issue of the rings. He found he very much wanted a wedding band, to show that he was Rose’s, but he worried about Rose’s rings. As short as their engagement was going to be, he still wanted her to have an engagement ring; but what would the heiress to the Vitex fortune be expected to have? He’d quite a bit saved away, years of living a solitary life doing wonders for his bank book, but he still worried that he’d not be able to buy her something commensurate with her status in the world.

There were very, very few times where Peter was aware of Rose’s stature as heiress; this was one of them, and it nearly paralysed him.

“Peter?” Rose was just getting ready to shower, but paused as she saw him sitting in a daze. She crossed the room, sitting next to him on the bed. He reflexively brought his arm around her, pulling her close. “What’s wrong?”

He heard the note of fear in her voice, realized she thought he might be repenting his decision. “We have to go into town for rings. If we’re to do this properly.”

“Yes.” She drew the word out as she tried to work out what was bothering him.

“I...Rose, I’ve no idea what kind of ring to get you.”

“Just...a simple band, I should think,” she said, confused. “Same as you’ll have, yeah?”

“No, I don’t mean that. I mean the ring. Your engagement ring. You should have one.”

She laughed, leaning in to him. “Peter, I don’t need an engagement ring.”

“But you should have one. I’d like you to have one.” He was looking at her, watched her expression change from one of humour to the solemn one she used when they were having particularly serious discussions.

“Peter, I...I really don’t need one.” Her voice was low and intent. “I...” She sighed in frustration, having difficulty coming up with what she wanted to say. He appeared to be one of the few individuals to have that ability, to make her tongue-tied. It was incredibly flattering, really.

He leaned forward, gently kissed her. “I don’t want to force you to have one, Rose. I just...I never show you enough how much I love you. And I’d want you to have the ring so you’d always know.”

Rose leaned up, kissing him; her hand slid around to cup his face as she held the chaste kiss. She lightly brushed her lips across his before sitting back, her hand dropping. “I’ll grab a shower, yeah-unless you want to join me? And then we can go into town and look for something that’ll make us both happy.”

He of course joined her in the shower, used his hands and his mouth to express how very much he loved her, and they emerged into the cool of the room some time later in order to get ready to go into town.

He was dressed before she was and, with a promise to meet her downstairs, went to find the owner of the B&B, Marie. The older woman had been a great help to him when he had been planning the retreat, and she once again proved invaluable. Marie smiled when he’d told her he and Rose were to be married, and told him not only who to talk to about procuring a license, but pointed him in the direction of the better jewellers in town.

“Will you be needin’ another night or two, then, Mr. Carlisle?” she asked, a smile quirking her lips.

“I thought you were booked this weekend?”

“Aye, we are, but there’s a cottage as might meet your needs if you’re plannin’ a honeymoon.”

He smiled at that, hastily answering he’d most assuredly like the cottage before requesting that she not mention it in front of Rose. He could hear Rose coming downstairs, and he wanted to keep it a surprise for their wedding night.

Their wedding night. His heart leapt at the thought.

Knowing that they could stay some extra days, hidden away in Yorkshire, was a relief, and took away some of the imperative of finding someone who would marry them quickly. It was Wednesday; they could wait until Friday, could then use the entire weekend as their proper honeymoon before returning to London.

It was a short drive into York, and he was lucky enough to find parking within the city walls. They made a quick stop at the registrar, to provide official notice that they intended to be married; by paying an extra fee, and demonstrating they’d been living together for at least the past twelve months, they were able to obtain permission to expedite the process. Rose laughed as they left, relief visible.

“I’d not thought we’d be able to do this so quickly!”

“Why wouldn’t we?” he asked, perplexed.

“At home-home home, that is-y’ had to wait over two weeks! If you wanted to be married right away, you had to fly somewhere; Vegas, the Med, something like that.”

He kissed her cheek, grinning. “Not so bad here, is it?”

She grinned, leaning up for a kiss. “Nah, once you get used to the people.”

Marie had suggested one of the older, venerable jewellers in the town centre, and they were soon stood inside the quiet store. Every wall, every counter, radiated wealth, and Peter felt very much out of his element. Rose seemed at ease, but he suspected it was very much an act on her part, no doubt perfected during her time learning to be the heiress to the Vitex fortune.

He’d not had much experience shopping for jewellery-his first wife had, essentially, told him what to buy and where-and he was prepared for a long, painful ordeal. It was a pleasant surprise to find the gentleman who assisted them did so with good humour, and seemed able to determine exactly what type of things would appeal to them both equally as he moved quietly about the shop. The wedding bands were soon agreed upon and set aside for resizing; and Peter, with some trepidation, inquired about engagement rings.

He glanced over to Rose, expecting her to argue; she instead was looking at him with a gaze so full of love he thought he might faint. A small smile played about her lips as he looked at her, and she finally said, “I’ll not argue with you over this, Peter. It’ll make you happy.” She briefly brushed a kiss over his lips as the clerk returned with a tray of sparkling rings.

Peter tried desperately not to think about cost as Rose was shown several glittering items. She smiled, oohed and ahhed as expected, and then rendered her verdict. “I don’t suppose you have anything...more reserved? I...I don’t need anything large or flash. Just something simple.”

The clerk had given her an appraising look at her statement, before moving to replace the selection of rings he’d presented. When he returned, he brought with him five rings; they were, as Rose had asked, simple; small, elegant rings which would quietly advertise their value instead of blinding all and sundry. They’d be no less expensive, he was sure-but he found he didn’t mind, so much. The selection in front of him was far more representative of his and Rose’s relationship: quiet, simple, intense.

Rose looked at Peter before looking at the rings in front of her; not that he expected her to, but he’d be absolutely mortified if she found a way to ask him if he could afford whatever she selected. She’d a good idea how much he had saved, and knew him well enough to know he’d not have been so insistent on her having a ring if he’d not been able to afford it. It would just be a shock, to spend so much money in one go-especially after so long spending hardly anything at all.

“I think I like that one.” She pointed to a small, silver band; the stone was suspended in between the ends of the band instead of being set in prongs, meaning the ring itself was smooth. Rose tried it on, the ring sliding into place as though it were made for her; she admired it, and then returned her gaze to his. He was watching, patiently awaiting her decision.

“You’re sure?” she asked him.

“Absolutely.”

She turned to the clerk. “This one, then.”

Peter settled the bill on the rings, trying not to flinch as he paid; without question it was money well-spent, and he didn’t think he’d ever come to regret it. As he signed, he didn’t miss Rose sneaking a folded piece of paper over to the clerk; she clearly wanted it to be a secret, though, and so he pretended he’d not seen a thing. He’d have to find some way to let her know that her engagement ring made it a bit harder to hide the actions of her left hand.

His heart once again lurched at the words. Her engagement ring. He was going to marry her.

As they left, Rose turned to him. “Thank you, Peter.”

He lightly brought her hand to his lips, kissing the ring. “Thank you, Rose.”

She smiled shyly, ducking her head, before grabbing his hand and leading him along one of the narrow streets.

They had just finished lunch, when Rose tentatively asked, “Would...would you mind if I asked my mum and Pete to come up for the ceremony?”

“Why would I mind? I think it’d be brilliant.”

Rose smiled, and he thought he’d never be able to deny her anything. Did she know just how very much he loved her?

“What?” She was watching him stare at her across the small table.

“I was thinking how very much I love you.”

Her eyes darkened, and she leaned forward. “Peter...” Her voice was breathy, and he was beginning to rue being in town, in public; he wanted to undress her, to kiss every inch of her as he worshipped her body.

“I do. Love you. More than I could ever say.” He kissed her, a light brush of his lips over hers.

“I know you do.” Rose looked down at the ring, sparkling merrily on her hand. “And...I...I just-” She huffed, frustrated as the words wouldn’t come. “I’ll always think of today when I look at this. And remember how much you love me-and how much I love you.” She raised her eyes to his, holding his gaze.

He smiled slowly before grinning in joy, and she grinned in return.

Rose rang Pete once they were out of the restaurant; as Peter stared at the Minster, the sandstone glowing warmly in the bright sunshine, he listened to Rose tell her father of their plans. He stifled a grin as he heard her specifically ask Pete not to tell Jackie, just to find a way to get her up to York on Friday morning.

“Yes, Dad, I know that’s two days off.” She paused, listening, before adding, “She can do whatever she likes. But this...this is for me and Peter. Please.” She was quiet once more, before answering. “Thank you. See you Friday.”

He leaned in and snuck a quick kiss as she rang off, and she laughed. “He says to be prepared for Mum going a bit mad when she finds out what we’re up to.”

“I think she’ll be alright, in the end,” Peter offered. He’d heard horror stories of Jackie Tyler from Jake and Mickey, but had been pleasantly surprised by the woman once he’d met her. She was tough, and took no lip from anyone, but she had many of the same qualities which he loved in Rose, including a fierce loyalty to her friends and a quick wit. He’d liked her even before he’d learned of Jackie’s role in Rose’s return to Kendal so long ago, and he now counted her among his few friends.

Rose had never been to York-in either universe-and it had been some time since he’d been there for things not related to work, so they spent the rest of the day in town, walking the wall, visiting the gardens, just spending time together.

They stopped off at a small pub for supper before returning to the B&B. The night was spent lying contentedly together, whispering to each other what it was they loved the most about the other, what it was they hoped for in the future. He drifted off with Rose in his arms, completely at peace.

The next day passed in a whirl, a thousand unexpected little things needing to be done before their ceremony the day following. He made arrangements with Marie to have their things moved to the cottage while they were at the ceremony; he’d have to decide when to tell Rose that they would be able to stay a bit longer at their hideaway. He also found time to ring down to Pete, making sure the man knew where to go for the ceremony.

He’d found Pete Tyler to be remarkably...normal. It wasn’t until he’d decided to move to London, to be with Rose, that he’d learned what it was her father-well, stepfather-really did. The persona he used as Vitex founder was markedly different from that of his true personality; the Vitex founder was bubbly, almost flighty, armed with a ready grin and a hearty handshake-a salesman through and through. The man Peter had come to know, however, was level-headed, thoughtful, and, without fail, sincere. Peter could easily believe that the Pete Tyler he respected and knew behind the Tyler manor’s doors was the same man who’d help to fight against the Cybermen, and who still led Torchwood.

Rose seemed remarkably calm given that she was to be married the next day, joining him on the visit to the jewellers as he picked up the rings which had been resized in record time. She hastily plucked the box holding his ring from his hand, hiding it in her purse with a teasing grin; he wondered what exactly she had had them engrave, and found he couldn’t wait to find out the next day.

They split up for a time, each having errands they wanted to run without the other seeing, and met up after a few hours apart. They then stopped by the registrars to make sure all was in order for the next day, and were reassured it was with such enthusiasm that he suspected they knew exactly who Rose was. Rose, after all, was a very uncommon name and he was certain there were no other Rose Tylers in the country. He hoped her being recognized wouldn’t cause a problem; it very rarely had, once the initial surprise that she was dating a policeman had worn off. They provided very little fodder for the gossip magazines, living quietly when they weren’t off working their respective jobs, and the furore had died down after his move to London had lost its newsworthiness.

They took dinner in their room again that night, the owners of the B&B taking special care with the meal. He had bought a ridiculous amount of candles in town; half of them were currently burning brightly in the room, while the other half had been entrusted to Marie’s care for use in the cottage the next day. He’d arranged to leave the dishes in the hall after supper, and carefully cleared the table before closing the door and locking it behind him.

He heard the sound of water running as he moved into the room, and found Rose perched over the tub, pouring bath oil into the running water. She grinned at him as he walked up to her, the light dancing across her skin. “Want a bath?”

“Only if you’re in it with me.”

“That might be arranged.” They moved the candles into the en-suite, setting them on every available flat surface as the bath filled slowly. The task complete, they undressed and stepped into the warm water of the tub. He settled against one end the long, deep tub, the cold porcelain setting his already taut nerves on fire, while Rose settled opposite him. As they had the night before, they talked quietly, comfortably; as they always did when taking a bath together, they took turns washing each other’s hair, savouring the gentle touch of the other, the feel of water running over their skin as it was gently poured from cupped hands. It was with a contented sigh that Rose settled against him when they were done, her damp hair slicked back. Her torso was flush against his chest as her bum provided a wonderful pressure against his groin.

They never could take a bath together without touching each other, and his hands were soon coaxing moans and delighted sighs out of Rose as his mouth drifted kisses along her shoulders and neck; as his hands cajoled an orgasm out of her, he repeated her name, a whispered mantra against her ear. She caught her breath before helping him to shift so he was leaning against her, her breasts pressing into his back. Her hands drifted down, stroking and touching him; and as she brought him to completion, he could hear her whispering his name as well, a choke in her voice.

Friday morning dawned grey and overcast; he ruefully considered that it was just his luck that the weather would turn foul on the day they’d chosen to be married. Rose was up exceptionally early, the only indication of any nerves on her part, and the two of them packed in contented silence before going to breakfast.

“We don’t have to go down to London tonight. If you don’t want.”

She looked surprised. “We don’t?”

“We could stay. Here. If you like.”

“I thought they were full up.” Her voice held a note of suspicion.

“I...I’d hoped to surprise you. They have a cottage, it’s not normally available yet. But they offered it, if we’d like. I told them yes, I hope you don’t mind.”

He was toeing a fine line here; he knew Rose hated it when he made decisions which impacted her, out of hand. But he had wanted it to be a surprise, and desperately hoped she’d see that.

“I don’t mind. A proper honeymoon, then, yeah?”

He smiled. “A proper honeymoon.”

They left their luggage in the room, heading out into the gloom of the day. It was foggy, and Peter dearly hoped Rose’s family would be able to make it in. The zeppelins were notorious for not flying in anything thicker than a light haze.

They drove, as they had in the two previous days, into town, the car filled with quiet anticipation. He was relieved when Rose received a text from Pete, letting her know they had arrived and would meet up with them at the registrar’s at eleven. Jackie was suspicious, but still hadn’t quite worked out what was going on.

Parking was a bit of a challenge, and they cut it far finer than he would have liked before arriving at the small building where they would be married. Jackie and Pete were waiting for them, and Jackie’s eyes widened as she saw her daughter.

Peter was very, very grateful he wasn’t Pete Tyler as he saw Jackie narrow her eyes and glare at her husband. “You-”

“Jacks, she asked me not to tell you.”

Jackie spun towards Rose. “You’re goin’ to elope? Rose!”

Rose stepped towards her mum, pulling her into an embrace and whispering into her ear for several moments. He watched as Jackie calmed down, and she pulled back from her daughter with a smile. “Well, that’s alright then.”

Jackie turned towards him, pulling him into an embrace. “Take care of my daughter, y’hear?”

“I can think of very little else I’d rather do,” he replied sincerely. Jackie gave him a kiss on his cheek, before stepping back to her husband’s side. Rose smiled at Peter, moving to stand next to him as she took his hand.

Peter had thought he had things well under control; he was excited-eager, in fact-to marry the woman next to him. And still his stomach was twisting into knots; he was terrified he’d let her down somehow, that he’d not be able to live up to her expectations-that he’d make her unhappy.

Rose looked up at him, her smile softening as she met his gaze. “You ready?”

He looked at her, her gaze trusting and full of love, and answered, “Yes.” He found, as he said it, that he meant it.

They walked into the registrar’s office, hands clasped between them. Pete was greeted as the luminary he was in the world, while Jackie beamed as she was introduced by Pete as the mother of the bride.

Rose squeezed his hand, tugging him down so she could whisper in his ear. “I love you, Peter.”

He smiled, whispering, “And I, you, Rose,” before he brushed his lips lightly across her cheek.

They were ushered into the small room where civil ceremonies were conducted, much of the staff of the office crowding in. He was relieved when Pete said, with quiet politeness, that their interest was appreciated but it was a family matter; the staff cleared out with surprisingly good humour, and the ceremony commenced.

It passed in a blur for him, events appearing like snapshots in his memory. Rose, saying she would take him as her husband; he saying he’d take her as his wife. Him, sliding her band onto her finger, her doing the same with his band. And then the simple, profound pronouncement: They were husband and wife.

He kissed Rose tentatively, certain he was going to wake up from the amazing dream his week had been. He’d not felt such a profound fear that things weren’t real in months. Rose brushed her lips along his jaw, pausing to whisper against his ear, “This is real, Peter. I’m here.”

She took a step back, grinning; and he felt his lips curve in response. He stepped forward, swooped down and kissed her for all he was worth; her hands slid up into his hair, returning his kiss with equal passion before pulling away, gasping. She looked up at him, smiling as she said, “Hello, stranger.”

“Hello,” he replied, the greeting both familiar and new.

He heard Pete clear his throat, and slowly turned to look at Rose’s family. His in-laws, he realized. Pete looked amused, Jackie was blushing, and he grinned.

Jackie herded them together for pictures, asking the registrar to take several photos of the four of them together before they left the small room.

When picture-taking was over, he turned to Rose. “Shall we, Mrs. Carlisle?”

His heart clenched as he said the words for the first time. She was his wife.

“Do, let’s,” she responded with a smile, taking his hand and walking with him out the door.