And So Things Go, Chapter 20
Title- And So Things Go (20/34)
Author- jlrpuck
Rating - T
Pairing - Peter Carlisle/Rose Tyler
Disclaimer - Characters from Blackpool and Doctor Who are the property of the BBC, and are used with the greatest of love and respect; no profit is intended from the writing or sharing of this story.
Summary - The story of how Peter Carlisle moved to London to live with Rose Tyler.
Author’s Notes - Peter and Rose spend their Sunday together. Oh, and there’s dinner…
earlgreytea68 and chicklet73 have been ideal betas for this-supportive, diligent, and full of excellent ideas. lostwolfchats has been fabulous, as well, and equally as invaluable, ensuring that I didn’t ruin the Queen’s English…too badly. Any errors-grammatical, colloquial, or factual-are mine, and mine alone. The lovely header is by angelfireeast .
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 | Chapter 29 | Chapter 30 | Chapter 31 | Chapter 32 | Chapter 33 | Epilogue
The bulk of Sunday was spent lazing about Rose’s flat; they’d awoken quite late, and neither had been inclined to leave bed any sooner than necessary.
Peter finally relented first, desperate for coffee; as he glanced back at Rose, still naked from their lovemaking before going to sleep the night previous, he hesitated. She grinned impishly before moving to stand next to him. “You need coffee, Peter. I’ll go with you.”
Rose didn’t have Louise, but she did have Gretchen, the regular barista in the small coffee shop on the ground floor of her building. The young woman had been smitten with Peter the very first time he stopped in the shop-he’d told her the story, stammering and blushing, after the first time she visited the shop with him and saw Gretchen’s reaction-and Rose loved going with him for coffee, watching the usually sardonic woman turn to mush over the dark Scotsman.
Her dark Scotsman.
She’d not considered-not for a while, at least-how Peter might still be bothered by the Doctor. She told Peter as often as she could that she loved him, saw him, wanted him; but the fear was still there. Even in the dark of the lounge the night before, she’d been able to see how haunted Peter looked as he finally talked about his fears.
She wished she could make him understand just how solidly she was now rooted in this world; that she was rooted there because of him, and that she’d not leave him even if the Doctor came back for her. Telling Peter only seemed to go so far, and she had the feeling that it might be a fear he’d always feel. She wondered if perhaps she might do well to tell Peter exactly how different he was-
“Rose?” Peter’s voice was bemused, and she came back to the present.
“Mmm?”
“Did ye want coffee or tea?”
“Coffee, please.” She smiled up at Peter, her heart skipping a beat as she watched him chat up Gretchen. His hair was hopeless, standing on end in many different directions; he’d pulled out a pair of tatty old jeans and a wrinkled shirt from the back of her wardrobe, left there months before during a long visit.
He was a mess. And he was adorable.
He turned to her, handing her a coffee; she blushed at being caught staring. His gaze sharpened, and he gave her his lethal slow grin-the grin that never failed to seduce her. “Shall we, Miss Tyler?” he drawled, crooking his elbow.
She grinned, resting her hand there. “Do, let's.”
They didn’t make love again that morning, but Peter did delight in teasing her, seeing if he could distract her whilst they worked on the crossword, or as she was on a phone call with Jake. She felt her heart soar when he giggled, early in the afternoon, the result of her tickling him in an effort to get him to stop driving her spare with his flirting.
Peter had arranged with Elias to have an early dinner that evening, and Peter finally had to leave to get ready shortly before 4, having left his ‘dinner’ clothes at the hotel. She was surprised at how bereft she felt when he was gone; how empty the flat felt. She’d only felt that way once, really, weeks before; she’d called Peter and awoken him, and the feeling had faded after speaking with him.
And now it was back.
She punched a pillow, frustrated, as she made the bed. It really was her own fault-she should have taken Peter up on his suggestion of moving in together when he had made it. Now, she’d have to work out when to talk to him about it-and she really did need to have a talk with her supervisors at Torchwood to see what her options were for moving to Kendal.
Assuming, of course, Peter didn’t get a job with the Met.
She felt a bubble of hope in her chest at the thought. Peter, working for the Met. It wasn’t just that it would bring him to London, although that would be a nice byproduct; it was that he would be working in a place that chose him, that appreciated his talents and skills, and where he had a clean slate and a shot at success. It was exactly the type of environment he would thrive in, and she found herself growing giddy with the possibility that he might finally get the recognition he had so long been denied.
Dinner was across the river, and she had to hurry to get dressed in time to meet Peter. He’d reassured her it was a relaxed dinner, that he’d be dressed nicely but not formally; she chose a dress with a cardigan, and spent far too much time looking for a pair of shoes which would complement the dress but wouldn’t be too ‘dressy.’ She finally settled on a pair of black patent-leather heels, and fairly sprinted downstairs to the waiting taxi.
He was waiting for her in his hotel lobby, dressed in his favourite ‘dining out’ outfit: black trousers, plum jumper, white shirt. His hair was still damp and had been combed back; as she pulled back from kissing him, she ruffled his hair.
“Rose!”
She grinned. “I hate it like that.”
He brushed his palms across his hair, trying to smooth it down again; she reached out, grabbing his wrist. “It’s not a formal dinner, Peter.”
He looked at her sulkily; she smiled. “You look just fine, Peter. You always do.”
“Then why’d you mess my hair?”
“Except when your hair is slicked back,” she laughed.
There was a large, fancy restaurant on the main level of the hotel; below stairs, however, was a smaller, more intimate restaurant which also had the advantage of being less formal. It was there that they’d dine, but Peter had arranged to meet Ruby and Elias in the lobby. “Give you a chance to run away, should you so desire,” he winked at her, telling her of the evening’s plans.
“He puts up with you, I can’t see him being too terrible.”
Peter hmm’ed noncommittally as he scanned the lobby for his friends. It was an odd position, really: Peter had so few friends, it was usually she who was looking for their dinner companions, whilst Peter stood by, people-watching.
She rather liked the switch.
Rose had been watching an older, moneyed couple argue quietly off to the side of the lobby when she noticed Peter’s body language change. He bounced on the balls of his feet, leaning forward; she turned, curious as to how the couple who Peter so clearly respected, looked.
It was easy to spot them-they were the only other young couple in the lobby. Ruby’s hair complemented her name, a deep red hue which set off her fair skin. She was statuesque, and was already beaming halfway across the room.
And then there was Elias. It took a moment for Rose to realize why it was he looked so familiar; after all, it had been almost seven years. She blinked, certain she was seeing things, Peter’s voice muffled as she concentrated.
It wasn’t Elias. It was bloody Sir Robert from Scotland. From Torchwood House.
“Rose?” It was the soft note of concern in Peter’s voice which pulled her back.
“Sorry, mind drifted a bit.” She grinned up at Peter, willing him to let the matter drop, at least until after supper.
He gave her a brief, searching glance, then turned back to Elias and Ruby with a grin.
“Elias, Ruby-it’s my pleasure to introduce you to Rose. Rose, these are Elias and Ruby.”
Rose shook Ruby’s hand, smiling; Sir Robert-Elias-gave her a steady gaze as he took her hand. “Have we met, Ms. Tyler?”
At least he wasn’t Scottish. “I don’t believe so, unless you count the stories I’ve been hearing from Peter.” She released his hand. “And Rose, please. Ms. Tyler gives me the willies.”
She fought down a wince. She had a bad habit of slipping into “heiress” mode in social circumstances; these were Peter’s friends, and she needed to just be herself. Easier said than done, though, given how nervous she was, and the memories brought out just by looking at Peter’s friend.
Peter led the way down to the restaurant, chatting happily with Elias. Peter was a completely different man, smiling, talking; she’d only ever seen him like that with her, and she couldn’t fight down a smile.
“Not always like this then, is he?” Ruby asked conspiratorially.
“No,” she said fondly.
“He was a right cipher, first few times I met him,” Ruby replied, following Peter and Elias.
“I can believe it.” She grinned, remembering those early days of working with Peter. “He can be quite a charmer, when he chooses to be,” she added drily.
Ruby laughed in knowing agreement.
Peter was waiting for her at the entrance to the small restaurant; he allowed Ruby to go through, then followed Rose, his hand at her back. “You alright?” he whispered as they walked through to the table.
“Right enough.” She glanced at him, smiling. “Nothing to worry about.”
Ruby and Elias were waiting to sit at the table, watching them; she blushed under their steady scrutiny as she walked the last few steps to them. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cared so much about making a good impression on someone.
She wanted Peter’s friends to like her, desperately.
Conversation briefly waned whilst they looked at their menus. She wasn’t hungry, nervousness knotting her stomach, but she found something she thought she might be able to stomach. Peter had picked up on her nervousness and smiled at her as the waiter collected their menus, brushing his hand over hers briefly before beginning to converse with his friends.
She spent much of the first course simply listening, watching how Elias and Ruby interacted with each other, and how Peter interacted with them in turn. Ruby seemed to have taken on the older sister role for Peter, teasing him mercilessly about his sunny personality; Rose fought down a smile as Peter stammered out a response to a particularly pointed observation about his behaviour early on in his visit to Glasgow.
Ruby was definitely the talker of the two; Elias seemed content to sit back, to let others carry the conversation while he watched. Not that he didn’t chime in periodically-and when he did his comments were usually succinct, and incredibly funny. She could see how Peter would like working with the man.
As she sat back, mostly silent, she didn’t miss the glances Peter kept stealing, his eyes dark as he watched her, making sure she was alright.
Once the main courses were served, however, Ruby decided she’d had enough of Rose being quiet. “So, Rose, Peter never did tell us how you two met.”
Peter sighed theatrically. “I told you we met-”
“Shoosh, you. I want to hear Rose tell it. I’m sure her version is far more accurate.” Ruby turned to her, her eyes alight. “He says he seduced you with poetry in the rain.”
Rose laughed, drawing several glances from other tables. “He does, does he?”
“I knew he was lying!” Ruby said, grinning at Peter.
“I never said he was lying,” Rose replied, feeling the corners of her mouth curve upwards. “But that’s not how we met.”
Ruby leaned forward, eager for the story; Elias remained sat back in his chair, watching her.
Peter was smiling, his eyes soft.
“The first time we met, Peter Carlisle was...grumpy. Very grumpy.” She leaned towards Ruby. “I’m fairly certain he’d not been fed or coffee’d,” she said in a stage whisper.
“And you talked to him a second time?!” Ruby asked, feigning shock.
“It’s remarkable, isn’t it?” She stole a glance at Peter; he was still smiling. “But I did. He...was having a bad day, I think.”
“It was not the best of days, no.” Peter added, laughing softly.
“And?” Ruby prompted.
“And we kept crossing paths, for quite some while. And then he quoted poetry at me in the rain, and I was done for.” Rose once again leaned in towards Ruby. “There’s nothing quite like a Scotsman reciting Burns to drive a girl wild.”
“Don’t I know it,” Ruby nodded. “I think they teach them when they’re young ‘uns; Elias has tried it a time or two.”
Rose turned to the gentleman in question. “You’re Scottish?”
“You make it sound like a disease,” Elias rejoined, lapsing into a brogue.
Rose couldn’t help the flash back to Torchwood House, and fought to regain her equilibrium. “There are worse afflictions to have.” She fought to keep the tartness from her voice, trying desperately to keep some semblance of normalcy to her reaction. Elias, she suspected, was very much like Peter, and would pick up on anything amiss from her. “You hide it well.”
“Years of training,” he offered drily, still with his brogue.
She had no idea what to say-or at least, what to say that wouldn’t sound very rude indeed. The taciturn man next to her was suddenly nothing like Peter had described, and Rose felt her confidence falter.
Peter spoke up. “We went on our first date that night.”
Rose met his gaze, feeling herself settle and relaxing as she saw his warm smile. “We did. A picnic on the castle green. It’s the best first date I’ve ever had.” She smiled gently at Peter.
“I’m glad.”
Elias cleared his throat. “Who knew you were a closet romantic?” he offered, his estuary accent back as he turned to Peter with a smile.
“You did, as I recall,” Peter replied drily.
Their meals arrived, and conversation continued in fits and starts. Rose slowly grew more comfortable, at least with Ruby; it was hard, looking at Elias and seeing the face of the man who’d died to save her life, the Doctor’s life-and the life of Queen Victoria, who’d not even made it to that age in this universe.
It was after the dinner dishes were cleared that Elias finally asked her a direct question. “Peter’s the sphinx about you, Rose. He won’t even tell us what it is you do.”
Rose felt her gaze sharpen as she looked at Elias, then forced herself to relax. “You didn’t check the papers?” she asked, grinning at the man. Her reply surprised him, and she felt a small flash of satisfaction.
“I usually prefer to ask the source.”
“Wise,” she nodded, still smiling. “I work for Torchwood, LLC. According to the media-or Peter-I do nothing but cause trouble.”
“I never said that,” Peter replied, grinning.
“True-although you’ve implied it,” Rose said impishly, clearly indicating she was teasing him. She returned her attention to Elias. “I work in field management. Dull stuff, really-lots of moving things from here to there, making sure paperwork is filled out, that sort of thing.”
“How does one get into that kind of job?”
“It helps to be the owner’s daughter,” she replied with a wry smile. “A degree or even basic schooling is optional.”
Again, she noticed Elias’s surprise. What was he expecting from her?
“I thought they made allowances for on-the-job experience?” Peter added slyly.
“Ah, excellent point.” She grinned at Peter. “It also allows for periodic trips to quaint little corners of our country.”
“You have anyplace in particular in mind?” Peter’s voice was full of laughter.
“I met the oddest man, once, in Kendal...It was the best trip of my career.” Rose laughed warmly. She glanced over to find Ruby giving her a thoughtful look.
“You’re not at all what I expected,” the redhead finally said.
“Thank you. I think.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Peter said you were blunt; I’m glad to see he wasn’t wrong.” Rose smiled, meaning the comment sincerely.
“It has its advantages,” Ruby laughed.
“It’s brilliant for keeping DI’s in line, I should think.”
“Yes, it does come in rather handy.”
Elias remained fairly well silent for the remainder of dinner, offering comments but rarely, mostly sitting back and watching the interplay. Rose was finding it difficult to figure him out, and she was utterly baffled as to how he’d managed to draw Peter out so quickly.
They were finishing up their dessert when she finally could resist no longer. “Elias.”
He turned to her, his dark glance questioning.
“How in heaven's name did you get the reputation for being the chatty one?”
Ruby guffawed, and even Peter laughed. Elias looked offended.
“I beg your pardon?”
“All I ever heard from Peter was how talkative you were; how you kept forcing him to go out and eat and actually communicate. But...”
“You’ve been silent all night, Eli,” Ruby chimed in.
“I’ve been listening!”
“You’ve been glowering,” Ruby corrected.
Elias huffed, causing Ruby to laugh more, and Peter to smile. “He really is far more conversant, most of the time,” Ruby said fondly.
“He’s here,” Elias added, a note of laughter to his voice.
“Then he needs to talk more,” Ruby said sarcastically.
“Fine, fine. Rose, how do you feel about rugby?”
She paused, pretending to give it serious thought. “I like the shorts.”
“Netball?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t get it.”
Elias turned to Ruby. “I can’t talk with her about anything!” he said in an exaggerated whine.
“Smartarse,” Ruby said, lightly swatting at Elias’s hand, resting on the table.
“Better than a dumb one, m’dear.” He’d turned his hand over to capture Ruby’s hand, and gave her a smile.
That was all it took to finally break the ice, and the rest of their time in the restaurant was spent talking about all manner of topics. It wasn’t a smashing success, as dinners went, but it had gone well enough, and as they stood in the lobby of the hotel after supper, Rose was genuinely happy to invite Elias and Ruby over for supper the following weekend. They parted with hugs and kisses on the cheek, and Rose beamed at Peter when they were once again alone.
Peter had packed a carryall, and he joined Rose for the taxi ride back to Southwark. They were both quiet, Rose leaning against him as he gently stroked her arm, the light from the streetlamps flashing through the car as they rode the short distance to her flat.
Peter tossed his carryall off to the side as soon as they were in her flat, moving to turn on a light; she made sure the door was secure, and set the keys aside before moving to him for a hug. It felt so good to have him there, holding her, safe in her flat.
“You’re alright?” Peter asked, rocking her gently.
“Right as rain.” She buried her nose in his jumper, loving the smell: a mixture of the spray his drycleaner used, his deodorant, and the cologne he only rarely wore. Underneath it all, she could catch the faint hint of the shaving soap she’d given him. The combined scents reminded her of some of the happiest nights of her life.
Peter hesitated, and she leaned back. “What...what was it?” he asked, tilting his chin down and meeting her eye.
She knew exactly what he was referring to. “Elias.”
Peter was genuinely surprised. “Elias?”
“He...” She sighed, wondering where to being the story. “I told you about Torchwood, yeah-how it was founded, at Torchwood House?”
Peter nodded, holding her gaze. “The werewolf.”
“That’s the one. When I was there-when the Doctor and I were there-we were guests of a man named Sir Robert, and his wife, Lady Isobel.” She took a deep breath. “Your partner is-well, looks like-Sir Robert. More than looks like. He could be him.”
“Ah. And what was Sir Robert’s fate?”
“He was killed. By the werewolf,” Rose said, remembering.
Peter kissed her forehead before pulling her back in for a hug. “I have faith that won’t happen to Elias. Certainly not on this case.”
Rose gave a weak laugh. “Let’s hope not-they’d be sure to find out who I really work for.”
Peter continued to rock her back and forth, and she relaxed into his embrace.
“Thank you, Rose,” he whispered several moments later.
“You’re welcome.” She tilted her chin back again. “For what?”
“Dinner. I know it was hard.”
She smiled ruefully. “You’ve had tea with my Mum three times, now, met my Dad and survived.
This was the least I could do for you.”
“So you don’t need me to express my appreciation?”
“You’re always welcome to, you know.” She poked the tip of her tongue out the corner of her mouth, knowing Peter loved it.
He bent down, placing a chaste kiss on her lips. “Thank you, Rose.”
She grinned. “You’re welcome.”
He kissed her properly, and she laughed against his lips.
~ - ~
Chapter 21