Not Alone (1/1)
Title: Not Alone
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Tenth Rose/Rose Tyler
Rating: T
Summary: Set after Impossible Planet/The Satan Pit. The aftereffects of their latest adventure leads to sleepless nights for both the Doctor and Rose. They find reassurance in each other.
He startled himself out of sleep with a shout, eyes flying open, wide and unseeing. He was covered in a cold sweat, his breath ragged and panting, hearts thundering within his chest. His face was slick with tears, trailing unchecked over his skin as he found when he raised trembling fingers to his cheek, more of their counterparts gathering in his eyes.
"Doctor?"
The Doctor's head shot up from his pillow, eyes adjusting automatically in the darkness to meet the concerned gaze of the bed's other occupant. Her brow was furrowed, lips pursed as she shifted to face him, cocking her head to study him in the dark. The blankets fell back as she moved, the hem of her nightgown pulled up in her sleep to mid-thigh, and he hated himself for the way his eyes zeroed in on the stretches of exposed skin.
"Doctor, are you alright?"
He nodded, speechless, averting his eyes from her as his traitorous mind supplied several suggestive images, all while grappling with the lingering traces of his nightmare.
They had been following a strange pattern for the last several days, starting with the night after they escaped from Krop Tor. Rose had retired to bed and as the hours dragged on, he had been unable to concentrate on the TARDIS repairs he was attempting, haunted instead by their close-call and the need to see her alive and well.
He had stood silently and watched her sleeping, unable to resist the urge to comfort when her slumber was disturbed by a nightmare. He stroked her hair, pressed kisses to her brow, whispered soothing words until she calmed. A mild problem occurred when he found himself unable to pull away without waking her, but he lay down beside her with little hesitation, holding her close throughout the night. When she woke hours later, her only reaction had been a soft smile and shy words of thanks, much to his nervous relief.
He had thought that first night was a fluke, a one-time happening never to occur again now that he had soothed his own conscience. But she sought him out in his own room the next night, looking vulnerable and exhausted, and he himself who went to her again the following evening. The pattern held and they continued on under the facade of keeping to separate beds, and ending up together by morning.
That is, until Rose, his brave, clever girl, was the one to finally question the pretense.
The Doctor was surprised when Rose appeared in his room only half-an-hour since they had said goodnight. He looked up from his book to see her standing in the doorway, dressed for bed and uncharacteristically solemn, staring at him with dark, serious eyes.
"Are we going to keep pretending?"
He arched an eyebrow, opting for playing dumb. "Pretending what?"
Rose sighed, raking a hand through her tousled hair. "I could go to my room, you could stay here, and we'd both try to sleep. But then we'd end up starting that game of who's gonna to break first. We'll toss and turn for a couple hours, then one of us will show up at the other's door. So, we could keep being right gits about this, or we can stop the act now and get some sleep."
The pregnant silence that followed seemed to last for an eternity, filled with tension and uncertainty and thoughts they had never before dared to speak out loud.
She turned away from his gaze, the shadows cast by the darkness effectively hiding the expression in her eyes. "It's your decision, Doctor, but I'm knackered, and I don't want to sleep alone."
He swallowed hard, glancing away from her as the wheels in his head began to turn, reflecting, remembering, fighting, thinking, contemplating, and considering all at once. Finally, he looked at her, and he gave her a crooked smile, though his eyes were serious. He set aside his book, lifted the blankets in invitation and she needed no other incentive.
Any trace of thought immediately dissipated for the Doctor (an impressive feat all its own) as slender arms suddenly slipped around him. "You're not alright," his companion whispered into his ear, "Please don't lie."
"Rose," he said her name in a reprimand, though the throaty quality to his voice diminished the impact, "Go back to sleep."
She eyed him closely, studying him, eyes imploring and defiant as they locked with his, her head shaking to refuse him. "No. I heard you shoutin' in your sleep…thrashing about. Talk to me. Don't pretend."
"Rose," and his voice dropped an octave, the dark quality to it sending shivers through her as he repeated his command with more authority, "Go back to sleep."
The pupils of his eyes were dilated, the rich brown of them so darkened they were nearly black, and the effect of them were mesmerizing. She swallowed hard, the hands previously trying to comfort him fisting in the material of his t-shirt.
"No," and she watched him scowl with her refusal, the severity of his expression having the resolution of her resolve wavering, not wanting to push him. But then she felt the muscles beneath her fingers quiver with tension and she remembered the mutters and the thrashing that had woken her in the first place. "Why won't you talk to me? You've helped me all those nights when I had nightmares. Why don't you let me help you?"
The Doctor swallowed. He'd gotten used to lying beside her as she slept, listening to the gentle sounds of her breathing and the soft murmurings she made in her slumber. When the nightmares came, he was there to hold her, her head against his chest, torso pressed to his, their hands entwined. He would take advantage of their joined hands to press his fingers to the underside of her wrist, focusing on her beating pulse. And the Beast's foreboding words would be chased away by the warm, breathing, utterly alive body sleeping contently in his arms, a mantra of she's alive, she's here running repeatedly through his head.
Tonight was not the first time those words had chased him into the dreamscape, but it was the first he had been loud enough to wake her. His jaw tightened, fists clenching from holding back the impulse to prove his dreams and that damned devil wrong, to feel her so wonderfully alive and there with him. But a hug and a cuddle wouldn't satisfy him this time, not tonight, not after such vivid dreamings of losing her.
"You need to go to sleep. Now. If not…"
"If not…" Rose prompted, her breath hitching almost painfully as she met his eyes again, glittering with something she couldn't quite read.
"If not…I'm going to do something we can't take back."
His gaze fell from her eyes to her lips and he was suddenly leaning forward, so close that his eyes were all that filled her vision, dark and full with what she recognized now as the same feeling coiling in her belly. It was the same feeling that heated in her blood with his proximity, that had her knees feeling weak and her mind blank of anything but him every time he was near.
Desire, hot and potent, burned between them…almost a palpable entity in its intensity.
Rose licked her lips, shifting closer. "What if I don't want to take it back?"
The Doctor seemed to tremble against her, closing his eyes. "Then," he said simply, his voice husky and pained, "We're both done for."
She watched him, her stomach a jumble of nerves and anticipation as she glanced at him demurely through the fan of thick lashes, biting her lip in a gesture that earned a low, throaty whisper of "Rassilon, Rose," from him just before he wrapped his arms around her, pulled her into his lap and crushed his mouth to hers.
His lips moved over hers hungrily, his tongue demanding entrance she gladly granted, and dear God, she was drowning with no hopes of surfacing any time soon. His hands splayed across her back, pushing her flush against him as he kissed her ever the more urgently.
An intense heat spiraled in her blood, settling in her abdomen and humming through her head, fuelled on as she felt him harden through the thin fabric of his pants, instinctually rolling her hips against his arousal. He groaned low in his throat, plundering her mouth ever more insistently as he kissed her again, his weight pressed her back to the bed.
She mewled with pleasure at the spike of ecstasy that shot through her as he rocked into her, and she pushed against him, eager for more of the feeling. Aching to feel more, he shucked up the nightgown to her waist, sliding his hands up the creamy skin of her legs and thighs. He tore his mouth from hers, trailing heated kisses down her neck, and she squirmed against him, made soft sounds of pleasure that left him feeling dizzy and utterly empowered as she begged him softly for more, something more…anything more.
"Doctor…please…" She lifted her hips to his once more, rubbing wantonly against him as he obeyed her request, sliding down her knickers, urging her to lift her arms so he could pull the nightgown over her head. She lay back against the sheets, completely bare to him, and his eyes roved over her, feasting on warm, sun-kissed flesh and soft curves his impressive Time Lord mind couldn't have even began to imagine.
He leaned down to nuzzle her neck as he whispered how beautiful she was. Her smile was infectious, the Doctor finding himself grinning rather boyishly despite the warnings running through his mind. "Rose, are you certain about this?"
She guided his lips back to hers to cut off his line of speech. "Shh," catching his lower lip between her teeth, earning a low growl from him as he nipped at her in return, placating the sore spot with a deep, earnest kiss, "I want this. I want you."
He placed a kiss just below her ear, obediently rearing upward to allow her to pull his shirt over his head as she reminded him quietly she was the only one naked, and by the time his underwear joined the small pile of clothing on the floor, the naked length of his body covering hers like a living blanket, he was too far gone to care about anything but her.
He would lose her one day, the Doctor knew that. It was inevitable. But for now, he would hold on to this moment, imprint it so deeply into his hearts he could still carry her with him even when all others had turned to dust, and only he remained.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Tenth Rose/Rose Tyler
Rating: T
Summary: Set after Impossible Planet/The Satan Pit. The aftereffects of their latest adventure leads to sleepless nights for both the Doctor and Rose. They find reassurance in each other.
He startled himself out of sleep with a shout, eyes flying open, wide and unseeing. He was covered in a cold sweat, his breath ragged and panting, hearts thundering within his chest. His face was slick with tears, trailing unchecked over his skin as he found when he raised trembling fingers to his cheek, more of their counterparts gathering in his eyes.
"Doctor?"
The Doctor's head shot up from his pillow, eyes adjusting automatically in the darkness to meet the concerned gaze of the bed's other occupant. Her brow was furrowed, lips pursed as she shifted to face him, cocking her head to study him in the dark. The blankets fell back as she moved, the hem of her nightgown pulled up in her sleep to mid-thigh, and he hated himself for the way his eyes zeroed in on the stretches of exposed skin.
"Doctor, are you alright?"
He nodded, speechless, averting his eyes from her as his traitorous mind supplied several suggestive images, all while grappling with the lingering traces of his nightmare.
They had been following a strange pattern for the last several days, starting with the night after they escaped from Krop Tor. Rose had retired to bed and as the hours dragged on, he had been unable to concentrate on the TARDIS repairs he was attempting, haunted instead by their close-call and the need to see her alive and well.
He had stood silently and watched her sleeping, unable to resist the urge to comfort when her slumber was disturbed by a nightmare. He stroked her hair, pressed kisses to her brow, whispered soothing words until she calmed. A mild problem occurred when he found himself unable to pull away without waking her, but he lay down beside her with little hesitation, holding her close throughout the night. When she woke hours later, her only reaction had been a soft smile and shy words of thanks, much to his nervous relief.
He had thought that first night was a fluke, a one-time happening never to occur again now that he had soothed his own conscience. But she sought him out in his own room the next night, looking vulnerable and exhausted, and he himself who went to her again the following evening. The pattern held and they continued on under the facade of keeping to separate beds, and ending up together by morning.
That is, until Rose, his brave, clever girl, was the one to finally question the pretense.
The Doctor was surprised when Rose appeared in his room only half-an-hour since they had said goodnight. He looked up from his book to see her standing in the doorway, dressed for bed and uncharacteristically solemn, staring at him with dark, serious eyes.
"Are we going to keep pretending?"
He arched an eyebrow, opting for playing dumb. "Pretending what?"
Rose sighed, raking a hand through her tousled hair. "I could go to my room, you could stay here, and we'd both try to sleep. But then we'd end up starting that game of who's gonna to break first. We'll toss and turn for a couple hours, then one of us will show up at the other's door. So, we could keep being right gits about this, or we can stop the act now and get some sleep."
The pregnant silence that followed seemed to last for an eternity, filled with tension and uncertainty and thoughts they had never before dared to speak out loud.
She turned away from his gaze, the shadows cast by the darkness effectively hiding the expression in her eyes. "It's your decision, Doctor, but I'm knackered, and I don't want to sleep alone."
He swallowed hard, glancing away from her as the wheels in his head began to turn, reflecting, remembering, fighting, thinking, contemplating, and considering all at once. Finally, he looked at her, and he gave her a crooked smile, though his eyes were serious. He set aside his book, lifted the blankets in invitation and she needed no other incentive.
Any trace of thought immediately dissipated for the Doctor (an impressive feat all its own) as slender arms suddenly slipped around him. "You're not alright," his companion whispered into his ear, "Please don't lie."
"Rose," he said her name in a reprimand, though the throaty quality to his voice diminished the impact, "Go back to sleep."
She eyed him closely, studying him, eyes imploring and defiant as they locked with his, her head shaking to refuse him. "No. I heard you shoutin' in your sleep…thrashing about. Talk to me. Don't pretend."
"Rose," and his voice dropped an octave, the dark quality to it sending shivers through her as he repeated his command with more authority, "Go back to sleep."
The pupils of his eyes were dilated, the rich brown of them so darkened they were nearly black, and the effect of them were mesmerizing. She swallowed hard, the hands previously trying to comfort him fisting in the material of his t-shirt.
"No," and she watched him scowl with her refusal, the severity of his expression having the resolution of her resolve wavering, not wanting to push him. But then she felt the muscles beneath her fingers quiver with tension and she remembered the mutters and the thrashing that had woken her in the first place. "Why won't you talk to me? You've helped me all those nights when I had nightmares. Why don't you let me help you?"
The Doctor swallowed. He'd gotten used to lying beside her as she slept, listening to the gentle sounds of her breathing and the soft murmurings she made in her slumber. When the nightmares came, he was there to hold her, her head against his chest, torso pressed to his, their hands entwined. He would take advantage of their joined hands to press his fingers to the underside of her wrist, focusing on her beating pulse. And the Beast's foreboding words would be chased away by the warm, breathing, utterly alive body sleeping contently in his arms, a mantra of she's alive, she's here running repeatedly through his head.
Tonight was not the first time those words had chased him into the dreamscape, but it was the first he had been loud enough to wake her. His jaw tightened, fists clenching from holding back the impulse to prove his dreams and that damned devil wrong, to feel her so wonderfully alive and there with him. But a hug and a cuddle wouldn't satisfy him this time, not tonight, not after such vivid dreamings of losing her.
"You need to go to sleep. Now. If not…"
"If not…" Rose prompted, her breath hitching almost painfully as she met his eyes again, glittering with something she couldn't quite read.
"If not…I'm going to do something we can't take back."
His gaze fell from her eyes to her lips and he was suddenly leaning forward, so close that his eyes were all that filled her vision, dark and full with what she recognized now as the same feeling coiling in her belly. It was the same feeling that heated in her blood with his proximity, that had her knees feeling weak and her mind blank of anything but him every time he was near.
Desire, hot and potent, burned between them…almost a palpable entity in its intensity.
Rose licked her lips, shifting closer. "What if I don't want to take it back?"
The Doctor seemed to tremble against her, closing his eyes. "Then," he said simply, his voice husky and pained, "We're both done for."
She watched him, her stomach a jumble of nerves and anticipation as she glanced at him demurely through the fan of thick lashes, biting her lip in a gesture that earned a low, throaty whisper of "Rassilon, Rose," from him just before he wrapped his arms around her, pulled her into his lap and crushed his mouth to hers.
His lips moved over hers hungrily, his tongue demanding entrance she gladly granted, and dear God, she was drowning with no hopes of surfacing any time soon. His hands splayed across her back, pushing her flush against him as he kissed her ever the more urgently.
An intense heat spiraled in her blood, settling in her abdomen and humming through her head, fuelled on as she felt him harden through the thin fabric of his pants, instinctually rolling her hips against his arousal. He groaned low in his throat, plundering her mouth ever more insistently as he kissed her again, his weight pressed her back to the bed.
She mewled with pleasure at the spike of ecstasy that shot through her as he rocked into her, and she pushed against him, eager for more of the feeling. Aching to feel more, he shucked up the nightgown to her waist, sliding his hands up the creamy skin of her legs and thighs. He tore his mouth from hers, trailing heated kisses down her neck, and she squirmed against him, made soft sounds of pleasure that left him feeling dizzy and utterly empowered as she begged him softly for more, something more…anything more.
"Doctor…please…" She lifted her hips to his once more, rubbing wantonly against him as he obeyed her request, sliding down her knickers, urging her to lift her arms so he could pull the nightgown over her head. She lay back against the sheets, completely bare to him, and his eyes roved over her, feasting on warm, sun-kissed flesh and soft curves his impressive Time Lord mind couldn't have even began to imagine.
He leaned down to nuzzle her neck as he whispered how beautiful she was. Her smile was infectious, the Doctor finding himself grinning rather boyishly despite the warnings running through his mind. "Rose, are you certain about this?"
She guided his lips back to hers to cut off his line of speech. "Shh," catching his lower lip between her teeth, earning a low growl from him as he nipped at her in return, placating the sore spot with a deep, earnest kiss, "I want this. I want you."
He placed a kiss just below her ear, obediently rearing upward to allow her to pull his shirt over his head as she reminded him quietly she was the only one naked, and by the time his underwear joined the small pile of clothing on the floor, the naked length of his body covering hers like a living blanket, he was too far gone to care about anything but her.
He would lose her one day, the Doctor knew that. It was inevitable. But for now, he would hold on to this moment, imprint it so deeply into his hearts he could still carry her with him even when all others had turned to dust, and only he remained.