An Azriona Thing - Prologue (1/1)
Title: An azriona Thing - Prologue
Rating: K
Characters: Peter Carlisle/Rose Tyler
Disclaimer: Characters from Blackpool and Doctor Who are the property of BBC, are are used with the greatest of love and respect; no profit is intended from the writing or sharing of this story.
Written for: azriona
Prompt: Dammit. I promised not to bother you about a certain animal. And then you had to GO AND PLAY THIS MEME, probably knowing PERFECTLY WELL which fic I'd ask for, and what timestamp (15-30 seconds after) I'd put on it. Oh, you are evil. EEEEEEVILLLLLLLLL. You better appreciate the suffering this present is costing me here. Gah. In that case......sigh. One week earlier. [than “An azriona Thing”]
Notes: Written for the timestamp meme over at my LJ.
Many thanks to Children of Time Award-winning beta earlgreytea68her work on this!
An azriona Thing - Prologue
Rose had just put Lucy down for the night when Peter arrived home. She heard the front door close, heard the sounds of what had to be him taking his coat off and hanging it in the hall, then the steady if slow sound of him climbing the stairs. Rose moved to the doorway of their room, and met Peter at the top of the stairs.
He looked exhausted, and didn’t say anything as he brushed a distracted kiss over her cheek as he walked past her towards their bedroom.
“And how was your day?” Rose asked, following him.
“Terrible. Didn’t get lunch, and then had to stay late to help Denis and Paul with their interrogation, and then the paperwork.” Peter had jerked his tie out from his collar, and was slowly unbuttoning his shirt.
“Did you get supper?”
“Grabbed a bite before coming home.” Peter moved past her, walking to the en-suite and closing the door behind him.
Rose sighed, cinching the robe’s belt around her waist before returning to Lucy’s cot. Their daughter slept peacefully, her small mouth pursed, her hand in a tiny fist-she was completely oblivious to the fact that her da was in a bit of a state, and that her mum was too tired to deal with it.
Rose brushed her fingers gently over Lucy’s dark hair, before she moved over to the rocking chair, collapsing into it. It was exhausting, staying home with Lucy all day without anyone there to help her out. Not that she begrudged her daughter for it; she just hadn’t expected it to be quite so tiring, not when things had seemed so easy with Peter there to help. He’d gone back to work the week before, eager to return to the field in spite of his protestations that he’d miss being home with them all day. She was still finding her equilibrium, determined to raise Lucy as much by herself as she could; to not call her mum for help simply because Lucy was fussing and Rose herself wanted to simply escape and nap for a bit. Jackie would have come over in an instant, of course-but Rose had wanted to see if she was capable of doing this on her own, of being able to be a good mum whilst Peter was working.
She’d had a post-natal visit with her doctor that morning, and had been somewhat relieved to know that what she was feeling wasn’t at all unusual, especially for someone who’d had such a traumatic delivery. “It will take time, Rose, for you to get back to yourself. Don’t be afraid to ask for help-not if you feel you need it.”
She’d called her mum that afternoon, and had arranged for Jackie to come over and help the very next day. She just had to make it that far.
It was tempting to go to bed, to lie in wait for Peter under the red duvet; to tell him that he might have had a bad day, but she was knackered and oh, wouldn’t he like to know how her appointment with the doctor had gone that day? She fought back the urge, though, forcing herself to reach for the book she kept next to the chair for when she was nursing Lucy; to calmly flip through the pages until she found where she’d left off reading. It was harder to actually concentrate on what the words on the page said, though, her hearing attuned to door of the en-suite, to the sounds of Peter shuffling about, no doubt getting ready for bed.
She must have dozed off, the book open on her lap; she was aware, suddenly, of the warmth of Peter’s hands over hers, easing the book away. She opened her eyes, blinking several times as she tried to clear her head, and saw Peter bending over to place the book on the small table by the chair.
“Come to bed?” he whispered when he turned back and saw she was awake.
She nodded wearily, gratefully accepting his help as she stood. She still hurt, especially if she moved at an odd angle, or too fast, and she hated how she could still feel weak at times.
Peter stopped her from walking over to the bed, his hand cupping her chin and guiding her to briefly look up at him. “Are you well, Rose?”
She nodded, a wave of exhaustion washing through her. “Tired. Exhausted. But ‘m alright.” And if she thought about it, it was alright-the night hadn’t gone as she’d hoped, but Peter was there, and that was the important part.
He gazed searchingly at her, his eyes dark, and then he gave a small nod. He dropped his hand, turning to walk over to where Lucy continued to sleep. Rose watched as he gazed down at their daughter, as he brushed a kiss over his fingertips then placed them against Lucy’s cheek; and then she turned, slowly walking over to their bed.
She saw the light dim as he turned out the small lamp next to the rocking chair, and heard Peter moving behind her, following her to their bed. He remained quiet as he removed his pyjama bottoms, and settled into bed as she shucked her robe, climbing into bed in the nightgown she’d taken to wearing while nursing Lucy. Peter waited until she had pulled the duvet up to her chin, then reached over to turn off the light.
The room plunged into darkness, and she felt the bed shift as Peter turned; his leg came into contact with hers, and then she felt his hand tentatively brush against her arm, trailing up to her shoulder.
“What’s wrong, Rose?” he asked softly. She was able to see him in the near-darkness, as her eyes adjusted, and she could see he was looking at her.
“’m tired.”
“I know.”
“No, y’don’t know,” she said with surprising vehemence. She felt Peter still across from her.
“Then, tell me,” he said after a beat, his voice still soft.
The fire left as quickly as it had come, and she answered, “I feel like I haven’t slept, and ‘m always tired, and the zanzare are outside more often’n not, and ‘s just…” She caught herself, then said, more calmly. “’s been a long day. And I was hopin’ we’d be able to see each other, tonight.”
“I was, too,” he stated. “I didn’t mean to brush you off when I got home. I just…I needed to try to calm down from work, and getting ready for bed seemed the best way to do that.”
“I understand.”
“I’m still not quite used to being back to work.”
“I miss havin’ you around.”
“Would you rather I stayed home?” His voice was even-too even, and Rose knew he was trying desperately to keep his own opinion from influencing her answer.
“Of course I do, Peter. But I know you can’t. I mean, I know you have leave…but you’ve been goin’ a bit mad with not bein’ out in the field.”
Peter didn’t deny her statement. His hand slipped from her shoulder up to her jaw, and he gently stroked his fingers across her skin. “How’d the visit go today? With the doctor?” She paused answering as she heard Peter take a breath, then add in a grave tone, “I forgot, until now. I’m sorry.”
Rose sighed: Peter had a knack for defusing her anger, even when she was in the mood to be in a foul temper. “It was good. As good as could be, I guess. Lucy’s doin’ well; she’s big for her age, they said, and tall, too.”
“What about you?” His hand had slipped from her jaw; she could see it resting between them, the palm relaxed over the bed sheets.
“’m doin’ as well as I could. I still can’t do any runnin’ or things like that; but they told me I could think about startin’ t’swim again in a week or two. And-“ she cut herself off, suddenly shy.
“And?” he prodded gently.
“And they said I…we…that we could, um, that we couldresumeourlovelife.”
She could hear amusement in Peter’s voice as he said, slowly, “They told you it was safe for me to ravish you again, you mean?”
“Yeah. Well, they said it was safe enough to try. I mean, if I was up for it.”
“Oh.”
“Physically, Peter,” she corrected, her hand finding his. “If I wasn’t feeling any pain any more.”
“Oh.” His tone had changed, from disappointment to understanding.
“I…I still hurt. A bit.”
“And you’re knackered.”
“Well, yeah. Wouldn’t want t’ fall asleep on you.”
“That might be a bit of a blow to my ego, it’s true,” he answered lightly.
Silence fell for a moment. “I…I’ll tell you, when I’m ready for it again,” Rose finally said, her voice soft.
“I have every faith you will.” He placed another kiss against her fingers, then released her hand.
Rose was unable to stifle a yawn, and she could see Peter’s teeth glint as he gave her a smile. “Tha thu sgìth, Rose.”
She smiled in return. “An’ what’s that mean?”
“You’re tired,” he answered. “Time for sleep.”
“All of that in one little phrase?” she teased, rolling over.
“No. Just the first part.” Peter, used to the sleeping habits she’d developed while pregnant, moved to mould his body to hers, slipping an arm under her neck, while the other wrapped over her stomach. She felt him kiss her neck, then heard him whisper, “I love you, Rose.”
She laced her fingers through his, softly replying, “Love you, Peter.”
And then she slept.
~ fin ~
Rating: K
Characters: Peter Carlisle/Rose Tyler
Disclaimer: Characters from Blackpool and Doctor Who are the property of BBC, are are used with the greatest of love and respect; no profit is intended from the writing or sharing of this story.
Written for: azriona
Prompt: Dammit. I promised not to bother you about a certain animal. And then you had to GO AND PLAY THIS MEME, probably knowing PERFECTLY WELL which fic I'd ask for, and what timestamp (15-30 seconds after) I'd put on it. Oh, you are evil. EEEEEEVILLLLLLLLL. You better appreciate the suffering this present is costing me here. Gah. In that case......sigh. One week earlier. [than “An azriona Thing”]
Notes: Written for the timestamp meme over at my LJ.
Many thanks to Children of Time Award-winning beta earlgreytea68her work on this!
An azriona Thing - Prologue
Rose had just put Lucy down for the night when Peter arrived home. She heard the front door close, heard the sounds of what had to be him taking his coat off and hanging it in the hall, then the steady if slow sound of him climbing the stairs. Rose moved to the doorway of their room, and met Peter at the top of the stairs.
He looked exhausted, and didn’t say anything as he brushed a distracted kiss over her cheek as he walked past her towards their bedroom.
“And how was your day?” Rose asked, following him.
“Terrible. Didn’t get lunch, and then had to stay late to help Denis and Paul with their interrogation, and then the paperwork.” Peter had jerked his tie out from his collar, and was slowly unbuttoning his shirt.
“Did you get supper?”
“Grabbed a bite before coming home.” Peter moved past her, walking to the en-suite and closing the door behind him.
Rose sighed, cinching the robe’s belt around her waist before returning to Lucy’s cot. Their daughter slept peacefully, her small mouth pursed, her hand in a tiny fist-she was completely oblivious to the fact that her da was in a bit of a state, and that her mum was too tired to deal with it.
Rose brushed her fingers gently over Lucy’s dark hair, before she moved over to the rocking chair, collapsing into it. It was exhausting, staying home with Lucy all day without anyone there to help her out. Not that she begrudged her daughter for it; she just hadn’t expected it to be quite so tiring, not when things had seemed so easy with Peter there to help. He’d gone back to work the week before, eager to return to the field in spite of his protestations that he’d miss being home with them all day. She was still finding her equilibrium, determined to raise Lucy as much by herself as she could; to not call her mum for help simply because Lucy was fussing and Rose herself wanted to simply escape and nap for a bit. Jackie would have come over in an instant, of course-but Rose had wanted to see if she was capable of doing this on her own, of being able to be a good mum whilst Peter was working.
She’d had a post-natal visit with her doctor that morning, and had been somewhat relieved to know that what she was feeling wasn’t at all unusual, especially for someone who’d had such a traumatic delivery. “It will take time, Rose, for you to get back to yourself. Don’t be afraid to ask for help-not if you feel you need it.”
She’d called her mum that afternoon, and had arranged for Jackie to come over and help the very next day. She just had to make it that far.
It was tempting to go to bed, to lie in wait for Peter under the red duvet; to tell him that he might have had a bad day, but she was knackered and oh, wouldn’t he like to know how her appointment with the doctor had gone that day? She fought back the urge, though, forcing herself to reach for the book she kept next to the chair for when she was nursing Lucy; to calmly flip through the pages until she found where she’d left off reading. It was harder to actually concentrate on what the words on the page said, though, her hearing attuned to door of the en-suite, to the sounds of Peter shuffling about, no doubt getting ready for bed.
She must have dozed off, the book open on her lap; she was aware, suddenly, of the warmth of Peter’s hands over hers, easing the book away. She opened her eyes, blinking several times as she tried to clear her head, and saw Peter bending over to place the book on the small table by the chair.
“Come to bed?” he whispered when he turned back and saw she was awake.
She nodded wearily, gratefully accepting his help as she stood. She still hurt, especially if she moved at an odd angle, or too fast, and she hated how she could still feel weak at times.
Peter stopped her from walking over to the bed, his hand cupping her chin and guiding her to briefly look up at him. “Are you well, Rose?”
She nodded, a wave of exhaustion washing through her. “Tired. Exhausted. But ‘m alright.” And if she thought about it, it was alright-the night hadn’t gone as she’d hoped, but Peter was there, and that was the important part.
He gazed searchingly at her, his eyes dark, and then he gave a small nod. He dropped his hand, turning to walk over to where Lucy continued to sleep. Rose watched as he gazed down at their daughter, as he brushed a kiss over his fingertips then placed them against Lucy’s cheek; and then she turned, slowly walking over to their bed.
She saw the light dim as he turned out the small lamp next to the rocking chair, and heard Peter moving behind her, following her to their bed. He remained quiet as he removed his pyjama bottoms, and settled into bed as she shucked her robe, climbing into bed in the nightgown she’d taken to wearing while nursing Lucy. Peter waited until she had pulled the duvet up to her chin, then reached over to turn off the light.
The room plunged into darkness, and she felt the bed shift as Peter turned; his leg came into contact with hers, and then she felt his hand tentatively brush against her arm, trailing up to her shoulder.
“What’s wrong, Rose?” he asked softly. She was able to see him in the near-darkness, as her eyes adjusted, and she could see he was looking at her.
“’m tired.”
“I know.”
“No, y’don’t know,” she said with surprising vehemence. She felt Peter still across from her.
“Then, tell me,” he said after a beat, his voice still soft.
The fire left as quickly as it had come, and she answered, “I feel like I haven’t slept, and ‘m always tired, and the zanzare are outside more often’n not, and ‘s just…” She caught herself, then said, more calmly. “’s been a long day. And I was hopin’ we’d be able to see each other, tonight.”
“I was, too,” he stated. “I didn’t mean to brush you off when I got home. I just…I needed to try to calm down from work, and getting ready for bed seemed the best way to do that.”
“I understand.”
“I’m still not quite used to being back to work.”
“I miss havin’ you around.”
“Would you rather I stayed home?” His voice was even-too even, and Rose knew he was trying desperately to keep his own opinion from influencing her answer.
“Of course I do, Peter. But I know you can’t. I mean, I know you have leave…but you’ve been goin’ a bit mad with not bein’ out in the field.”
Peter didn’t deny her statement. His hand slipped from her shoulder up to her jaw, and he gently stroked his fingers across her skin. “How’d the visit go today? With the doctor?” She paused answering as she heard Peter take a breath, then add in a grave tone, “I forgot, until now. I’m sorry.”
Rose sighed: Peter had a knack for defusing her anger, even when she was in the mood to be in a foul temper. “It was good. As good as could be, I guess. Lucy’s doin’ well; she’s big for her age, they said, and tall, too.”
“What about you?” His hand had slipped from her jaw; she could see it resting between them, the palm relaxed over the bed sheets.
“’m doin’ as well as I could. I still can’t do any runnin’ or things like that; but they told me I could think about startin’ t’swim again in a week or two. And-“ she cut herself off, suddenly shy.
“And?” he prodded gently.
“And they said I…we…that we could, um, that we couldresumeourlovelife.”
She could hear amusement in Peter’s voice as he said, slowly, “They told you it was safe for me to ravish you again, you mean?”
“Yeah. Well, they said it was safe enough to try. I mean, if I was up for it.”
“Oh.”
“Physically, Peter,” she corrected, her hand finding his. “If I wasn’t feeling any pain any more.”
“Oh.” His tone had changed, from disappointment to understanding.
“I…I still hurt. A bit.”
“And you’re knackered.”
“Well, yeah. Wouldn’t want t’ fall asleep on you.”
“That might be a bit of a blow to my ego, it’s true,” he answered lightly.
Silence fell for a moment. “I…I’ll tell you, when I’m ready for it again,” Rose finally said, her voice soft.
“I have every faith you will.” He placed another kiss against her fingers, then released her hand.
Rose was unable to stifle a yawn, and she could see Peter’s teeth glint as he gave her a smile. “Tha thu sgìth, Rose.”
She smiled in return. “An’ what’s that mean?”
“You’re tired,” he answered. “Time for sleep.”
“All of that in one little phrase?” she teased, rolling over.
“No. Just the first part.” Peter, used to the sleeping habits she’d developed while pregnant, moved to mould his body to hers, slipping an arm under her neck, while the other wrapped over her stomach. She felt him kiss her neck, then heard him whisper, “I love you, Rose.”
She laced her fingers through his, softly replying, “Love you, Peter.”
And then she slept.
~ fin ~