Fic - Under the Mistletoe (Where Our Secrets Dwell) - (1/1) - Ten/Rose - PG
Date Published: December 25th, 2008
Title: Underneath the Mistletoe (Where Our Secrets Dwell)
Series: Christmas '08
Author: avoria
Rating: PG
Pairing/Characters: Ten/Rose, OC.
Word Count: 3,042
Summary: The Doctor takes Rose to his (more or less) annual Yuletide party, where resolutions from the previous year start to come undone.
Disclaimer: The names, images and logos identifying the BBC and their products and services are subject to copyright, design rights and trade marks of the BBC. Used without permission for non-profit, non-commercial personal use.
Fic Type: One-Shot.
Gift For: maniacal_math, who asked for “Pie. With mistletoe”. Hope this fits the bill. Merry Christmas! ♥
Author's Note: First of eight unrelated stories written for members of my flist at Christmas time. This was a joy to write and came to me out of nowhere. I’m not sure how the prompts resulted in this story, but there we go. Happy Christmas.
Excerpt: Rose glanced above them, at the trees and lights, and then - before the Doctor could stop her - she’d leaned up on tip-toe and kissed him softly on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Doctor.”
Under the Mistletoe
(Where Our Secrets Dwell)
The Doctor and Rose stood out on the small balcony of the poky little flat, looking over London. Late night lights twinkled at them from the buildings, each one with a different story to tell.
“Well. I suppose that’s it, then,” the Doctor said, looking wistfully up to the stars.
“For today,” Rose mused quietly.
A bitter breeze blew quietly around them and the Doctor’s fringe flittered in front of his eyes. He still wasn’t used to this fringe business. He wasn’t really used to much of this body yet, but he suspected it wouldn’t take too long. He was still wearing his Christmas hat at its jaunty angle, but the wind was beginning to tug at it playfully; he was just about to suggest to Rose that they go back in when she spoke.
“What about New Year?”
He turned to her curiously, leaning his elbow on the wall. Someone down below shouted something incomprehensible at them, but the Doctor ignored them.
“New Year?” he echoed, frowning so that his glasses rode up his nose a little.
Rose nodded, wrapping her arms around herself as she looked at him. “Yeah. You know. Resolutions and stuff. We’re probably not sticking ‘round long enough for New Year, but I thought...” She momentarily caught his eye, but her words trailed off with her gaze.
“What?” he said, and he reached out to touch her elbow. She looked at him sharply, questioningly, and - clearing his throat - he replaced his hand by his side.
“We should make some,” she finished, looking away again.
The Doctor’s eyebrows rose with interest. It had been a long time since he’d made any resolutions. And with a new body, it seemed fitting that he should resolutely decide to do something he hadn’t done before with it.
“Okay,” he said enthusiastically, smiling. “You first.”
Rose grinned at him cheekily and pretended to contemplate what she might promise for the year ahead. She had, the Doctor suspected, already worked these out beforehand.
“Number one,” she began slyly, carefully avoiding his eye, “don’t run off with strange men.”
“Oh, I agree,” said the Doctor, bracing his hands against the wall. “Gets you into all sorts of trouble, that does. Wouldn’t recommend it.”
“Number two,” Rose continued as though he hadn’t said a word, “have a holiday. Number three...”
At that point, she met his gaze, and the Doctor waited on the edge of impatience.
“Oh, spit it out, Rose” he complained eventually, practically bouncing on the spot.
She laughed. “Wondered how long you’d last. Yeah, number three. Tell you a secret.”
He gave her a smiling frown. “You’re just trying to tempt me, aren’t you?” he said carefully.
Rose winked at him, grinning. “Your turn!”
“You said you’d tell me a secret!” He pouted, earning him a slap on the shoulder.
“No, I didn’t. It’s a New Year’s resolution. Got a year to do it.”
“But - but,” he spluttered, “the TARDIS doesn’t measure time like that!”
“Guess you’ll have to wait until I’m ready, then,” she teased, slipping her hands into her pockets. “Go on. Let’s hear yours.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, reaching to remove his glasses. He pointed one end at her, dangerously. “I’ll have you know,” he retorted in mock-anger, “that there have been dire consequences of messing with Time Lords.”
Rose leaned nonchalantly against the thick wall, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I’ll bet. But you’re not wriggling out of this one.”
“Oh, all right,” the Doctor conceded with a dramatic sigh, pocketing his glasses. “Resolutions... resolutions... Ah, I know. Number one. Fix that atomic stabiliser in the second spare bedroom. Gets rather a lot of tremors, particularly when crossing dimensions from the time vortex.”
“Boring.” Rose rolled her eyes, feigning a yawn.
The Doctor ignored her. “Number two. Go somewhere I’ve never been before. And, number three... get that secret out of you.”
Rose’s eyes lit up with a kind of child-like fascination, her side-on smile full of daring and promise. “You never will,” she mocked, swinging her hips as she watched him. “I’ll tell you, one day. But you’re not gonna force it out of me.”
He held her gaze intently, an emotion she couldn’t read swimming in those dark eyes of his. Sometimes, it was like she could see the whole universe within him.
“We’ll see,” he said gently, and Rose found that she couldn’t look away.
Then Jackie squawked their names, and when she found them, they were bustled quickly back inside with talk of Christmas pudding and relatives and other things like that, and their promises disappeared well into the night.
-I-
They stood on the hillside, hand in hand, staring up at the fireworks. Bright colours exploded into the sky, fizzing and whistling as they travelled, coating the sky in a dusty shimmer as they faded.
“This is beautiful,” Rose murmured from the Doctor’s side, and he sneaked a peek down at her through his glasses. Her skin illuminated every time a firework burst, causing colours to shade her cheeks; it was as though an artist were constantly painting her in his image.
He glanced up to the sky again, smiling. “Isn’t it just,” he mused happily.
The babble of a party rose and fell behind them, almost in time to the flashing lights above their heads. He’d brought them to Cascadia, to their yearly yuletide Yargun festival (which was, he’d found out from previous years, a very difficult thing to say drunk) - it was an occasion he often came to when he felt the pull of a year or so had gone by, and he was a well-known face among these crowds.
Well; as well-known as a man who constantly changed his face could be.
Sounds of merriment travelled across the lawns towards the Doctor and Rose, and they turned in unison to watch the party going on. The massive trees around the centre of the hilltop had been decorated with hovering lights, that cast odd shadows this way and that as they pulsated within the leaves.
Rows of tables with exotic food and drink had been laid out for the members of the party, and a small collection of five or six musicians were playing stringed instruments excitedly: a group of people stood in front of them, dancing jigs and drinking ale.
The people of Cascadia were smaller than average human height, with long flowing beards and sharp eyes and six, stumpy fingers instead of five, long thin ones. But they were an incredibly friendly bunch, hospitable to outsiders if they came in peace. Indeed, the Doctor felt he’d almost been accepted into their tribe, the first time he’d ever been pleased to meet a tribal community.
“Doctor,” called one of them from beside the table with sweet-tasting bread on it. Oddly, he sounded almost a little Irish.
The Doctor met eyes with Rose briefly, who smiled, and they approached the man swinging their hands between them. The Doctor reached out to sample one of the treats at the table, offering one to Rose after he’d delighted in the glorious movements of tastes on his tongue. The Cascadians sure knew how to cook.
“Hello,” he said thickly, sucking on his thumb to get all traces of the sticky, spongey bread from his skin. “And what can I do for you?”
The Cascadian eyed Rose interestedly, who hid bashfully behind the Doctor’s shoulder.
“Now, Rose, don’t be shy,” he said with a grin, loosening his hand from hers and using it to manoeuvre her in front of him. His hand stayed comfortably in the small of her back, sliding slightly around her waist as she stood before him. “These wonderful people are often the reason I have such a good Christmas and New Year.”
She turned slightly, frowning up at him. “Thought you didn’t celebrate that sort of stuff.”
“Officially, I don’t.” He shrugged, then waggled his eyebrows coyly. “But I can’t say no to a good party.”
“That’s certainly true,” Rose agreed with a laugh. “Or to ale, apparently,” she added, watching as he eyed a gleaming mugful on the table. He gave her waist a gentle, flirtatious squeeze, his silent way of telling her to be quiet.
“You’ve got a handful there, Doctor,” slurred the Cascadian, who’d been watching them both.
“I most certainly do,” he agreed, earning him a hit to his hand on her waist. “But she behaves - most of the time.”
Another, particularly loud, firework exploded behind them, and everyone turned briefly to watch the image of a dragon appear in the sky.
“It’s so lovely here,” Rose said, turning back to the Cascadian. “Thanks for letting us be here.”
“Aye, no problem lass. What be your name?”
“Rose,” the Doctor supplied before she could, smiling. “Sorry. Always been bad at introducing. Rose, this is Grash’neeg. He’s an old friend.”
“Nice to meet you.”
She leaned down and gave Grash’neeg a peck on the cheek, who laughed merrily and shook his head.
“Hold on to that one, Doctor,” he advised, taking another swig from his tankard. “Else I’ll steal her for myself.”
The Doctor met eyes with Rose, an overwhelming sense of pride creeping up on him as he watched her. She was practically glowing tonight, saying and doing all the right things. So often one of them would make a mistake which would cost them the luxury of being complacent, forcing them to run for their lives. But not tonight. Tonight was... something else.
“Oh, I intend to,” he said quietly, eyes never leaving hers as he held her against him. “Forever.”
He watched as a crimson blush painted itself across her cheeks and she looked away. Grinning to himself, the Doctor moved around her, grabbing the tempting mug of ale on the table. It tasted slightly of whisky and rum, warming even the blood in his veins as it slid down his throat.
He offered some to Rose, who immediately spluttered and choked after taking even a tiny sip. Grash’neeg laughed raucously as he watched them, then - after encouraging Rose to go and join in with the dancing - beckoned the Doctor towards him.
“You’ve never brought anyone with you afore, Doctor,” he said conspiratorially, nudging him slightly in the ribs. “There something you’re not telling us?”
He tried to shrug nonchalantly, but his gaze ended up finding Rose’s amongst the dancers. She was enjoying a very silly looking jig that involved kicking your feet out at every third step of the music.
“Not really,” he sighed. “She loves festivities.”
Grash’neeg snorted into his cup, fizzing ale everywhere. “Don’t we all.”
He thought back to the last time he’d celebrated Christmas, in Rose’s flat. It felt so long ago - they’d achieved so much in the time since then, and both of them had changed. He noticed it more in Rose. She seemed to have grown since being with him. No longer the naïve little shopgirl he’d picked up nearly two years ago.
“There’s something different about you,” Grash’neeg commented, leaning against the table as he eyed him. The Doctor looked down with raised eyebrows, curious but not entirely sure he wanted to hear the rest of the sentence.
“Oh?” he prompted, when nothing more was supplied.
His friend shrugged. “She’s changed you. I’ve seen you before and you’ve been distant, lonely. Never nice to see a traveller without a companion.”
“I’ve had companions,” the Doctor defended, quicker than may have been necessary. “Lots of people have come and gone in my life.”
“Oh, aye, don’t doubt it for a minute, lad. But this lass, she’s more than the others - I can see it in your eyes.”
The Doctor shook his head vehemently. “No,” he said strongly. “She’s... she’s the same as the others. All right, maybe not the same - in the sense that no two people are alike, but - she’s my friend. Others have...” Unbidden, memories of all his old companions, his friends, flashed into his mind, smiling, or laughing, or shouting at him. They’d all imprinted on his life somehow. “She’s special, like everyone else,” he finished sadly, gazing out to her again.
Rose happened to look up and gave him a small wave, and though he waved back, something in his smile was somewhat empty.
“Face it, lad,” Grash’neeg chuckled. “I’m not devaluing other people you’ve met. But this one makes you happier than I’ve ever seen you. Your older faces needed something else, but right now, she is what you need. Even you can’t deny that, sonny.”
“I love her,” he laughed nervously in response, then realised that the words had slipped out of him completely without permission from his brain. “I loved them all, an different ways.” He reached up to scratch his ear, not entirely sure where to look. “Well - most of them. Sort of. I don’t - I don’t really know.”
Grash’neeg watched him somewhat carefully. “Tell her,” he suggested, taking another swig.
“No.” The Doctor shook his head. “She... she knows, it doesn’t need saying. What would it change, anyway?”
“Aye, you’re right lad,” said Grash’neeg, heaving a sigh as he slammed his tankard down on the table. “Probably wouldn’t make any difference at all, apart from some peace of mind. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a table over there I’ve yet to explore.”
And with that, Grash'neeg hobbled off, leaving the Doctor to watch Rose helplessly as he tried to rid his memory of the conversation he’d just had.
Eventually, seeing he was alone again, Rose came back over towards him, a large grin plastered all over her features.
“This is amazing,” she enthused with a laugh, leaning back against the table. “Never danced so hard in my life. It’s brilliant!”
“You seemed to pick it up quickly,” said the Doctor casually, lifting his gaze to just behind her. Grash'neeg was watching watching them interestedly, and he looked away again.
“It’s easy. Used to love dancing in school. Mum always said I had great rhythm. You all right?”
The Doctor nodded quickly. “Oh yes, yes. Just... catching up with an old friend.”
Rose smiled at him, coming to his side and reaching for his hand. “It’s nice, that you’ve got friends here. I mean, I think of what... what you must go through, losing people like me, and I always end up wishing I could stop you being alone. But then... I see this.” She looked around them, at the dancing and the festivities, at the music and the drinking at the eating, at the people who were smiling and waving to the Doctor as they passed. “And you’re not as alone as you think you are, Doctor. You’ll always have places like this.”
He smiled warmly at her, linking their fingers and clasping his palm to hers. “Yes,” he agreed, eyes resting on her. “I think you’re right.”
They stood together for some time, the party continuing around them, as more fireworks burst into the sky. Someone, a host of some sort, weaved their way through the tables offering a tray of mince pies. Rose took with delight, peeling back the foil before taking a large bite.
“Just like at home,” she said through a mouthful of pastry, and the Doctor laughed, wiping crumbs from her face.
“And you eat them just the same,” he answered fondly. When she offered him a bite he nearly took her fingers off as he crunched down on the warm, brandy-filled treat.
Afterwards, they walked the circumference of the celebrations, every now and then interacting with the locals, but generally just enjoying each other’s company.
“Thanks,” Rose said, as they drew to a stop underneath a tree. “For bringing me here.”
He squeezed her hand. “It’s a joy to bring you.”
Rose glanced above them, at the trees and lights, and then - before the Doctor could stop her - she’d leaned up on tip-toe and kissed him softly on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Doctor,” she murmured into his ear, then drew away from him, her eyes misty with the festivities of Christmas.
He stared blankly for a moment, his skin tingling where her lips had been, and then he glanced upwards. A sprig of mistletoe swayed gently above them, caught by a gentle breeze.
“Yes,” he said, quite startled, as he looked back to her. “Quite right.”
She gave a gentle laugh, shaking her head at him. “You’re so rubbish,” she teased.
“I am not,” he countered indignantly. “It’s the appropriate response. Perfect, in fact.”
Rose pulled her hands away from his, leaning against the trunk of the tree as she stared up to the stars. “D’you remember the last Christmas we spent together?” she asked casually, but her words were waited.
The Doctor watched her intently. “How could I forget.”
“How’d those resolutions work our for you?” Rose asked with a grin, her eyes bright.
“Well. I’ve yet to get that secret out of you.”
She ducked her head, avoiding his gaze. “Still remember that, then.”
“Of course.”
“Well, thing is, Doctor...” She looked up again, meeting his eyes, and he was slightly taken aback by what he saw in her. It was as though, suddenly, she’d just grown up twenty years. As though he were looking into the eyes of a woman who’d been without him for years.
Rose laughed and scratched the side of her head, gaze flitting between his and the floor.
“Rose,” he whispered softly, alerting her attention. His eyes held hers like a child. “It’s okay. I think I figured it out.”
He both saw and heard her sharp intake of breath, and her eyebrows creased slightly in a frown.
“Yeah?” she asked fearfully, her eyes searching hers.
The Doctor nodded slowly, coming towards her to take her hand. “I won’t tell if you won’t,” he murmured, smile bittersweet, then he leaned towards her to place his lips against her cheek, just as she had done him. Her body tensed against his, their fingers intertwined, and for a second the Doctor let his eyes flicker closed as he just stood against her, lips pressed to her skin.
Then he pulled away.
“Merry Christmas, Rose,” he said, and turned to watch the fireworks exploding quietly behind them.