Ficapalooza: Fic 7
Written by request for aibhinn(who, hopefully, is having a wonderful time on holiday); chicklet73again beta'd for me.
This'll be the last one of the day. I have two more stories out at beta; because ASTG goes up tomorrow, the last two stories for Ficapalooza most likely won't go up until Friday. It depends on how antsy I am to get them out *g*
Cheers!
An aibhinnThing
Rose collapsed into the sofa, exhaling loudly.
Lucy was gone. For the first time in years, she and Peter would have the house to themselves; properly to themselves, for days on end. The nervousness of sending her daughter off to school-boarding school, the only ‘acceptable’ option for the daughter who would inherit Vitex one of these years, for the girl who required protection from threats made by crazed strangers and more than one very angry alien-had passed, with Rose secure in the knowledge that Lucy would be well-looked after. Torchwood had gone over the place, the Met had gone over the place, Rose and Peter and Mickey and Jake and James had gone over the place; the school was as safe as it could be. Lucy had been excited, school a gleaming new adventure for her in a lifetime of adventures.
The idea seemed…odd. Rose had grown used to the three of them sharing the cozy space, Lucy’s laughter filling the rooms, Peter’s bemused patience surrounding them all. Even when there were arguments-Peter and Lucy were far too alike for there to be perfect harmony-the house was full of love.
And now it simply felt empty. How strange; she and Peter had lived together-alone-for years before Lucy, and it had never felt like this. Three months of emptiness stretched in front of them-three months until break, when Lucy would come home for a month. Rose wondered how soon she’d be able to go visit; she hoped Lucy was already having fun, settling in with friends made in advance of the term.
“Penny for your thoughts.” Rose felt Peter’s hand on her shoulder as he murmured the words, and she turned to gaze up at him. His hair had started to go grey, lines of silver now threading through the dark brown; the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes had deepened in their years together, as well. He was still the most handsome man she knew, and her heart gave a little flutter as she smiled up at him.
“’s weird. Bein’ so quiet, now.”
Peter moved around the sofa and settled next to her with a weary sigh. Rose tucked her legs under her, leaning against him. “I’d forgotten what it was like.”
“Me, too.”
Peter’s hand drifted up and down her arm, the motion familiar and soothing, and silence briefly filled the house.
“She’ll be alright, you know,” Peter offered.
Rose leaned back, looking at him with a small smile. “I’m not worried about her at all-she’ll be able to take perfectly good care of herself.” She snuggled back against his chest, her hand now resting on his sternum. Lucy might only be seven, but she was already more than a match for her father-classmates would be no challenge for her at all.
“What’re you worried about, then?” Peter whispered the words against her hair, punctuating the statement with a kiss.
“’m…’m worried about bein’ alone with you. ‘s been so long since ‘s just been the two of us…”
“Are you worried I’ll ravage you on the dining room table again?” he asked, laughter in his voice.
Rose lightly swatted at him. “You never ravaged me on the dining room table to begin with. What if we don’t have anything to talk about? What if bein’ Lucy’s mum has changed me too much? What if-“
Peter bent forward, cutting her question off with a kiss. “We have plenty to talk about, Rose-we always have. And you being Lucy’s mum has changed you-in a brilliant way.” He held her gaze, giving her the smile he reserved only for her.
Rose blushed.
“And shame on me for not taking advantage of our lovely dining table for…more creative purposes.”
She laughed. They’d not been able to have second child-not yet-but certainly not for want of trying. The Torchwood doctors had told her it was possible she might never have another child, years of traveling through space and time taking their toll on her as much as the near-disastrous delivery of Lucy. She and Peter still held out hope, though, and enjoyed attempting to create a second child together. “We have three months in which you can remedy that oversight.”
Peter stroked her cheek, his eyes darkening. “Three months,” he murmured, leaning in to brush a soft kiss over her lips. “Why wait?”
Rose returned the kiss, her tongue lightly brushing across his lips as her hand slid up into his hair; he deepened the kiss immediately, his arm holding her to him and pressing her body against his.
They didn’t make it to the dining room table, instead making love on the sofa like two teenagers, each of them suddenly desperate to be naked, their bodies pressed together, each of them striving to drive the other over the brink. Peter came first, his jaw clenched, the tendons of his neck straining as his body rode the wave out; Rose pulled him to her for a kiss as she came around him, her world contracting then exploding from the sensation.
He collapsed onto her, their bodies forming an untidy heap on the sofa; Rose stroked her fingers down his sweat-soaked back, following the line of his spine, as his breath brushed cool lines across her damp skin.
He finally raised his head, meeting her eye; she gave him a small smile. “Hello, stranger,” she whispered.
He leaned in for a soft kiss. “Hello yourself.”
“I love you, you know that?” She traced a finger along his jawline as he pulled back, his dark eyes searching hers.
“Yes.” He turned, kissing her finger. “I do love you. My Rose.”
He kissed her again, languidly, and she sighed into the sensation. They lay together on the sofa, naked bodies intertwined as they savoured kissing each other-and having the time and space to do so in a leisurely manner.
She missed Lucy-but she was looking forward to having Peter to herself again, if only just for a little bit.
This'll be the last one of the day. I have two more stories out at beta; because ASTG goes up tomorrow, the last two stories for Ficapalooza most likely won't go up until Friday. It depends on how antsy I am to get them out *g*
Cheers!
An aibhinnThing
Rose collapsed into the sofa, exhaling loudly.
Lucy was gone. For the first time in years, she and Peter would have the house to themselves; properly to themselves, for days on end. The nervousness of sending her daughter off to school-boarding school, the only ‘acceptable’ option for the daughter who would inherit Vitex one of these years, for the girl who required protection from threats made by crazed strangers and more than one very angry alien-had passed, with Rose secure in the knowledge that Lucy would be well-looked after. Torchwood had gone over the place, the Met had gone over the place, Rose and Peter and Mickey and Jake and James had gone over the place; the school was as safe as it could be. Lucy had been excited, school a gleaming new adventure for her in a lifetime of adventures.
The idea seemed…odd. Rose had grown used to the three of them sharing the cozy space, Lucy’s laughter filling the rooms, Peter’s bemused patience surrounding them all. Even when there were arguments-Peter and Lucy were far too alike for there to be perfect harmony-the house was full of love.
And now it simply felt empty. How strange; she and Peter had lived together-alone-for years before Lucy, and it had never felt like this. Three months of emptiness stretched in front of them-three months until break, when Lucy would come home for a month. Rose wondered how soon she’d be able to go visit; she hoped Lucy was already having fun, settling in with friends made in advance of the term.
“Penny for your thoughts.” Rose felt Peter’s hand on her shoulder as he murmured the words, and she turned to gaze up at him. His hair had started to go grey, lines of silver now threading through the dark brown; the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes had deepened in their years together, as well. He was still the most handsome man she knew, and her heart gave a little flutter as she smiled up at him.
“’s weird. Bein’ so quiet, now.”
Peter moved around the sofa and settled next to her with a weary sigh. Rose tucked her legs under her, leaning against him. “I’d forgotten what it was like.”
“Me, too.”
Peter’s hand drifted up and down her arm, the motion familiar and soothing, and silence briefly filled the house.
“She’ll be alright, you know,” Peter offered.
Rose leaned back, looking at him with a small smile. “I’m not worried about her at all-she’ll be able to take perfectly good care of herself.” She snuggled back against his chest, her hand now resting on his sternum. Lucy might only be seven, but she was already more than a match for her father-classmates would be no challenge for her at all.
“What’re you worried about, then?” Peter whispered the words against her hair, punctuating the statement with a kiss.
“’m…’m worried about bein’ alone with you. ‘s been so long since ‘s just been the two of us…”
“Are you worried I’ll ravage you on the dining room table again?” he asked, laughter in his voice.
Rose lightly swatted at him. “You never ravaged me on the dining room table to begin with. What if we don’t have anything to talk about? What if bein’ Lucy’s mum has changed me too much? What if-“
Peter bent forward, cutting her question off with a kiss. “We have plenty to talk about, Rose-we always have. And you being Lucy’s mum has changed you-in a brilliant way.” He held her gaze, giving her the smile he reserved only for her.
Rose blushed.
“And shame on me for not taking advantage of our lovely dining table for…more creative purposes.”
She laughed. They’d not been able to have second child-not yet-but certainly not for want of trying. The Torchwood doctors had told her it was possible she might never have another child, years of traveling through space and time taking their toll on her as much as the near-disastrous delivery of Lucy. She and Peter still held out hope, though, and enjoyed attempting to create a second child together. “We have three months in which you can remedy that oversight.”
Peter stroked her cheek, his eyes darkening. “Three months,” he murmured, leaning in to brush a soft kiss over her lips. “Why wait?”
Rose returned the kiss, her tongue lightly brushing across his lips as her hand slid up into his hair; he deepened the kiss immediately, his arm holding her to him and pressing her body against his.
They didn’t make it to the dining room table, instead making love on the sofa like two teenagers, each of them suddenly desperate to be naked, their bodies pressed together, each of them striving to drive the other over the brink. Peter came first, his jaw clenched, the tendons of his neck straining as his body rode the wave out; Rose pulled him to her for a kiss as she came around him, her world contracting then exploding from the sensation.
He collapsed onto her, their bodies forming an untidy heap on the sofa; Rose stroked her fingers down his sweat-soaked back, following the line of his spine, as his breath brushed cool lines across her damp skin.
He finally raised his head, meeting her eye; she gave him a small smile. “Hello, stranger,” she whispered.
He leaned in for a soft kiss. “Hello yourself.”
“I love you, you know that?” She traced a finger along his jawline as he pulled back, his dark eyes searching hers.
“Yes.” He turned, kissing her finger. “I do love you. My Rose.”
He kissed her again, languidly, and she sighed into the sensation. They lay together on the sofa, naked bodies intertwined as they savoured kissing each other-and having the time and space to do so in a leisurely manner.
She missed Lucy-but she was looking forward to having Peter to herself again, if only just for a little bit.