Carpe Diem (Prologue): Spring Showers (1/1)
Title: Spring Showers
Series: Carpe Diem
Fandom: Doctor Who [2005]
Pairings: Nine/Rose, Ten/Rose
Spoilers: Set after 1x08 'Father's Day', mentions up to 'The Runaway Bride'
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Rose had been a shadow of herself in the last few weeks, until he brought her to the fields.
Author's Note: Originally started to answer amberfocus's request for 'lusty nine', completed as part of a longer series for thegabbster for round 1 of drficexchange
Bringing Rose here was the best idea he had ever had, the Doctor decided as he watched her run around the fields with a group of little girls in flowy white dresses. Rose was wearing one as well, as was customary on this planet for every unmarried woman. She had frowned at that piece of information when he had first shared it with her as she headed for the door, stopping her in her tracks, but had been delighted when she had slipped on the layers of white veil. She had even done a little spin, a wide, luminous smile on her face, to show him the result. He had made an off comment about it looking nice, even though the length was all wrong - it was too short, really, you could actually see her ankles - but he had ducked back behind the controls so that she wouldn't see the slight blush on his cheeks as his eyes had trailed down the low neckline. Truth was, he loved the dress, the way the fabric would flow around her yet had enough weight to fall against the curve of her hips, tracing the outline of her figure. Even as he watched her now, he couldn't help but admire it.
Rose threw her head back and laughed as two of the girls took her hands and pulled her into a dance. At some point, one of them had placed a crown of white flowers into Rose's hair and the Doctor reflected that she looked like a wood nymph. And that she looked happy.
Happy hadn't exactly been the norm these last few weeks, not since she had seen her father die in her arms. He knew there was more to it than just renewed grief though. She had been distant, silent. She still followed him wherever he chose to go, but things were different. By moments, she looked like she was going to mention something, suggest a course of action, but when he turned questioning blue eyes to her, she closed up. And for a fleeting moment, he would see it in her eyes, like a shadow. Fear, he thought it was, fear of what could happen if she did something wrong, of who would have to pay the price.
There wasn't a reason for their presence here, really: no monarchy to save, no tyrant to overthrow. What this planet had though, was a Spring festival the likes of which they had in 19th century Earth, made of simple joys and good company. The sound of Rose's laughter echoed in the air once more and the Doctor grinned in return. His companion was now swinging one of the girls around by the arms, making her hover a few inches above the ground. Then all of a sudden, the girl let go and both fell in the orange grass, laughter renewed.
So fascinated was he by the scene in front of him that even the Doctor didn't notice the shift in temperature and the large purple clouds that rolled onto them like ocean waves. It was only when heavy drops of rain started falling on them that he realized what was going on. All around, the crowd erupted in outraged screams as they ran for cover. No tents had been set up, none that could contain such a large number of people, so most headed towards the village, running down the narrow path through the fields. The Doctor turned back to Rose, finding her standing alone in the deserted fields, her face turned upwards. She was smiling.
"Rose, we ought to get back to the TARDIS. Spring showers typically last a few hours here, once they start. Don't think they were expecting them for today though," he cried out as he approached her. When he was a few meters away, she angled her head down to look at him in the eyes, a mischevious grin on her face. She extended her arms out towards him.
"Dance with me?"
He stared, enthralled at the young woman in front of him. Her hair was starting to stick to the side of her face, a droplet of water was dripping from the tip of her nose and from the light pink tint of her skin, he knew she must be cold. But the smile on her face was unrelenting and mimicking it, the Doctor took her hands and pulled her closer. "I'm not sure I remember how to dance, Rose."
His admission won him a soft giggle and he felt his hearts flutter. Her fingers entwined with his, she gently pulled back, her face inches away from his when she whispered. "Fine then, run with me."
And with that she broke away from him before he could react, pulling up her long skirt so she wouldn't trip as she ran ahead. After a beat, he started running after her, a wide smile on his face. The rain smelled like strawberries, the scent surrounding them as they ran through the field towards the TARDIS. He closed the distance between them as they reached the police box - after all, he had had centuries to master the fine art of running - and both came crashing through the doors as he wrapped his arm around her waist, throwing them both off balance. They fell on the floor, Rose falling unceremoniously on top of the Doctor, his arm still hooked around her waist from behind. For long minutes, they laughed, unable to get up. When the laughter ceased, the Doctor realized his palm was pressed rather much higher than Rose's waist and he tensed, pulling back his arm though she didn't seem to notice. She reached out for the railing and pulled herself up, still breathing heavily from their run. As he followed suit, the Doctor let his eyes follow the up and down motion of her chest. If anything, the added weight made the soaked fabric pull down and the neckline seemed impossibly lower now. Suddenly, he realized with a small gasp that it wasn't the only effect the rain had had.
At first sight, it looked as though the dress was painted against her skin from the way the wet fabric clung to her. Not only that, but the soaked white dress now left very little to the imagination. He could easily distinguish the contours of her bra through the bodice of the dress and he let his eyes trail down the smooth curve of her stomach.
"Doctor?"
With a start, he looked up at her, only realizing now that he had let himself drift into thoughts, thoughts that had been more and more frequent occurances in recent weeks. Actually, if he were to be perfectly honest, those thoughts had been with him from the moment he had taken her hand that day, just outside of the Powell Estate. As he had turned to her, trying to find the words to explain who he was, he had paused, transfixed by the sight of the London shopgirl's face as the wind played in her hair and the sun splashed down onto her face. But he wasn't really until she had put on that dress to go visit Naples that turned out to be Cardiff that it had become a frequent occurance.
Now, his shopgirl companion was looking up at him with intent and he tried to cover his slip by turning away to set coordinates for a new destination. He heard her follow him but he didn't turn back, bending over the console and fumbling with some of the controls.
"Doctor."
Why did she have to say his name so softly, he wondered as he felt warmth pooling down. Taking a long breath to steady himself, he let it go as he turned to her. "Yes, Rose?"
She only looked at him for what seemed like an eternity, the air thick with all the words that remained unspoken between both of them. Then she softly wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a tight embrace, whispering a thank you in his ear. His face was in the hollow of her neck, his lips almost touching the skin. He closed his eyes, his arms tightening around her waist and bringing her closer. He could feel every detail of her through his own soaked clothes, his palms pressed on her back reaching just high enough to touch at the skin where the dress stopped. She smelled like the rain and honey, he thought as he held her, both of them silent. It's only when he felt her pulse against his lips that he realized he had closed the distance between them and her skin. Still, she didn't move. He was certain both of them could feel the fragility of this moment, that they both feared it would shatter if either of them spoke.
She was the first to move, pulling back just enough to look at him in the eyes. It was there, the shadow he had seen many times before, yet it seemed different. She took one step back, forcing him to let go of her waist, but she never lowered her eyes. Delicately, she raised both arms and pressed her palms against his chest, then moved them up and apart gently until her thumbs hooked at the lapels of his leather coat. She continued the movement, pushing the coat over his shoulders, then just enough for it to fall down the length of his arms and to the ground with a heavy thud.
He gasped as her hands travelled down the length of his torso and under his jumper. Everywhere she touched him, his skin felt like fire though hers were cold. She pulled the fabric up over his head as he raised his arms to help her. The shirt was discarded on the ground with the leather jacket and they both remained silent for what seemed like forever, each of Rose's hands pressed against one of his hearts.
For the first time since she had pulled back from his arms, she broke visual contact as she lowered her head, her lips landing just above her right hand. The Doctor let out of soft gasp in reaction and reached out to put both hands on her hips, as though that would steady him. His hearts were beating wildly as she repeated the motion to the left, then let her soft lips trail across his skin. "Rose..."
His voice was just above a whisper, but it was enough to make her look up at him. He wasn't sure what he had meant to say, wasn't sure of anything really. So he simply looked at her, all pink skin and yellow hair sticking to her face. Simple joys, he thought.
The Doctor understood the concept of time better than anyone in the universe. He understood just how precious time was, how every second of every minute counted. He understood just how fleeting human life was, especially hers. Cruel that even her name would remind him of that. The rose that blooms beautifully but dies too quickly. His Rose. Standing there, with this fragile human girl's body pressed against his, he willed time to stop. Tried to capture the moment and make it last forever. She would stay with him forever that way, wet from the spring showers that had caught up with them in the middle of an orange field, beautiful, young and loving.
When she told him to kiss her, he did without hesitation, his lips crashing against hers. He pressed her against the jumper seat as he kissed her, his hands pushing the dress away from her shoulders and down the length of her torso, the weight of the soaked fabric doing the rest of the work for him. He lifted her from the puddle of fabric on the ground and placed her onto the seat, his lips never leaving hers.
Rose moaned against his mouth as his right hand cupped her right breast, feeling the hardened nipple peak under the fabric of her bra against his palm. He broke the kiss and she let out a small whine which turned into a whimper when his lips brushed against the exposed skin right above the edge of her bra. He could taste the rain on her as he started exploring every inch of her body with his lips and tongue, making his way towards her navel and then even lower until he met lace again. At that point he looked up and silently, gazing into Rose's brown eyes as if to seek permission, he gently eased her out of the piece of fabric.
He wanted to see every part of her, every milimeter of skin, to explore it and burn the memory of it in his mind. To make it so that when he closed his eyes, he had a clear picture of her, forever. He could feel this craving for her take him over completely as he kissed his way across her inner thighs, her moans encouraging him to go further and claim her the way he wished to. When his lips finally touched her folds she let out a soft hiss, her hands in his cropped hair. Her heat, her smell, every part of her was intoxicating and he felt his hearts leap as she screamed his name when he darted out his tongue inside of her, softly, gently. He could feel gentle shivers starting to shake her body as he continued his almost reverant exploration.
He loved her. He had known it for a long time, he could feel it every time he looked at her. I'm so glad I met you, he had told her as they were surrounded by the Gelth. He had expected her to say she wished she had never left home to travel with him, had expected her to cry. Instead, she had no hesitation about it, taking hold of his hand and saying they would go down fighting together. I wouldn't have missed it for the world, she had said, making sure to tell him that none of it was his fault and that she was happy she had chosen to travel with him even as the Dalek was closing in on her. Every day, she proved herself to him in a way that no one had ever done before. She didn't see in him what most other companions had seen before, the adventures and the exhilarition of travelling the universe. She saw him. This fragile human girl was his anchor.
He felt her hands on his shoulder pull him up so she could look at him in the eyes and the love he saw in her gaze made his head spin. He would never say the words and he understood in that moment that she probably never would either. Because she knew. Words weren't necessary, words meant nothing. There had been too many empty words exchanged, too many wasted minutes in talking. The only true thing was there, in this moment, between them.
The tips of her fingers were warm when she touched his cheek and he closed his eyes to put all of his focus on the sensation, on the softness of her touch as it slid from his cheek to his lips. He kissed the fingers as they ghosted over his mouth but she continued her exploration of his features in the gentlest manner. Soon her lips joined her fingers as she pressed them against his closed eyelid, then on the arch of his nose, his bottom lip and his jawline. She kissed one pulse point on his neck, then pulled back to kiss the other. As it was her turn to explore every inch of his skin with her lips and tongue, he felt her fumble at his belt, excruciatingly slow, getting rid of the last item of clothing that covered either of them by untying his trousers and then pushing down his pants as she kissed a straight line down his chest. He felt he might die when she brushed her hand down his length as she kissed the line that went from his hip to his erection and he moaned her name, gripping the edge of the jumper seat to keep himself standing straight. When her lips were finally on him, he found that leaning on it became absolutely necessary.
He didn't want to stop and think about what they were doing, about what it meant for the future. Time is relative, he thought, almost with a chuckle. But so was love. Humans had a way of defining everything, but among all things the thing they spent the most time trying to define was love. Trying to decipher what everything meant or should mean, making lists of unspoken rules. But the only true definition of love is that it defies all explanations. Love could die and be reborn, like a phoenix rising from its ashes. Even when you thought your heart had turned to stone, that you could never feel again, someone could come by and show you that life was fantastic. Labels weren't needed. They were just Rose and the Doctor.
Cupping her face gently, he pulled her up and claimed her mouth as he sat her on the edge of the seat. When he seated himself in her, they both gasped against the other's mouth. The Doctor opened his eyes and looked into hers, steel blue into brown. The shadow he had seen a few moments earlier and so many times before was gone, replaced by an ardent flame. Her upper chest was starting to be covered by a thin layer of sweat, her cheeks a bright pink and her hair a frizzy halo around her head. She was beautiful. As he started to move inside of her, the Doctor mused that perhaps, he did remember how to dance after all.
Each movement was slow and deliberate, as though he was trying to make it last as long as possible. They breathed in unison, his two hearts beating in time with her single one. He put one arm behind the small of her back, pulling their bodies flush together and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He could see her orgasm before it hit her, the flame in her eyes exploding a fraction of a second before she bucked against him, her body shaking and she let out a series of gasps, her nails digging into his back. Soon, he was just as lost as her. He cried out her name, breaking the silence that had surrounded them for long minutes. Stars danced behind eyelids as he felt a wave of what he could only qualify as relief wash over him, all his knots, all his burns. For a moment, the scars of Gallifrey, of the loss of his family and the world he had known wash away. In his mind, he labelled that feeling Rose. It was, decupled and more intensely, the way she made him feel. Even though he knew it couldn't last, even though he knew that the scars would still be there, she made things easier and he would hold on to her for dear life if he had to.
***
Things had been silent between them. Oh, they had spoken incessantly, chatter to fill the silence and convince themselves that it was just better to let it be. Rose had flirted, then they had picked up Jack and then it had all gone terribly wrong. New face, new body, same man, same scars. The Doctor had not seen the shadow in Rose's eyes since that night, but he could discern it there, behind the fake courage she put up when she threw names at him then gave him a shove. There, just next to one of his hearts.
It hadn't been mentioned again since then, even after she accepted that the new man was still him, though everytime he wrapped his arms around her he could still smell the rain on her. So many things better left unsaid because what he had felt as true that night still held today. Words were unecessary, words fell short. Rose was not his friend, she was not his girlfriend either. She just was his.
And then he could no longer smell the rain on her anymore. She was there, standing in front of him on that godforsaken stretch of sand and stones, tears running down her face and the wind playing wildly in her hair. She broke the truce first, speaking the words they had both refused to voice. And later on, when the bride had gone and London had been saved again, when the Doctor found himself alone in the TARDIS at last, he said the words he hadn't had the time to say. They echoed in the empty control room, the sound of his own voice cruel to his ears.