There's a first time for everything.
Follows this.He couldn't sleep, of course. It wasn't as if he'd truly tried. He'd stripped off his clothes, showered, shaved, puttered about in his jim-jams, but never really found his way to his own bed. His arm didn't hurt nearly so bad anymore, but he couldn't seem to stop his stomach from aching. Too
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When she shut her eyes she wanted to feel the warm press of Dean curled up against her telling her that he was okay. Not even that she'd had wanted him there now... she just wanted someone to be there. The darkness settled in the room, casting shadows on the walls that made her wonder what could be hidden behind the shapes trying to get into her dreams. Each breath she pulled in felt deeper as if her body knew she had to sleep, but her heart wouldn't let it happen. Her back was to the door, but she still heard the knob twist and the slight rattle to the latch that made her twist around to look at the doorway. It reminded her of a few times she'd stepped onto the TARDIS. The way the console room could almost back light him enough to halo him in it all, but now it was the lights from the hallway hitting him, and she shifted onto her side, propping her head up with her elbow, "Hey." It sounded so lacking in everything that she knew she was feeling, but there wasn't many words that could sum up her emotions.
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"Sorry to wake you," he said. "I was just---"
What was he doing? He was in his jim jams, ready for bed, yet he'd never found it. Couldn't even drink his tea and relax. He wanted...well, he wasn't sure what he wanted. Proper rest. He wanted proper rest and he wanted to know she was safe and...if only his mind would stop buzzing at a billion light years a second, he could think how to get what he wanted.
"Making sure you're all right," he finished, lamely.
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Her lips parted as she drew in a deep breath, the near audible gasp behind it held an uneasy shake that she felt in her lungs, edging her closer to tears she didn't want to fall again, "I don't want to be left behind in the end."
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She sounded hurt. He could hear it in her voice, in the way she breathed. It reminded her of when she would hold back her tears to be brave and the fact that he already knew what it was like to hear her hold back her tears to be brave made him feel positively horrible. No one should have to be like that. Especially not Rose. What had he done to her?
It was that last thought that made him hesitate before moving towards her. He was contaminating her, turning her more and more like him the more he stayed near her. He thought perhaps he should run. Run and run and keep her safe. But that was what she feared, wasn't it? She feared being left behind.
He stepped inside the room and knelt in front of the bed. Not on it, not even really touching it. Just being closer to her.
"If you live long enough, you're always left behind," he said, hating himself a little for the honesty. "And you and I, Rose, we're survivors. In the end we've just got each other. Which is probably not very helpful, is it? I don't think it is."
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She knew she'd said it to him, thought it with him when he walked her mind and she his... and she knew, more than he might've realized that she knew just what forever was for her in comparison to him. She just didn't care. If he moved on without her... if he'd found some sort of solace in someone else when she was gone she couldn't fault him for that. It wouldn't be fair of her to do that to him, but right now she had him at her side, and with her and she loved him. It felt like that was all that should matter, but when faced with what they'd been through that day... and the few days before... maybe it wasn't enough right now.
Her hand shifted to settle more against his shoulder as she shifted her feet onto the floor, she didn't care that she'd kicked the bottoms off to her usual dress a bit ago as she slid to the ground beside him. He was kneeling which didn't exactly make anything easy at all, but she was tired of being away from him, and tired of the fact that the last time she really felt close to him she'd been a sobbing mess. Now she wanted to know she had him, that they were going to get through this together. Knelt beside him as well, she pressed close to his side, trying to force him to make room for her, because she was there and there wasn't any leaving her now.
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He shifted off his knees to make more room for her. She'd apparently lost her jim jam bottoms and he wondered if it might be more gentlemanly for him to find them for her. But that would require pushing her away and...well, he'd done enough pushing away for the sake of modesty. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'm so sorry, Rose."
It was probably getting old to hear. It had to be getting old, right? He needed to figure out a different way to apologize. Or figure out how to stop doing things that would require apologies. Well, he'd never been very good at figuring out the latter.
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Rose felt herself pulling closer to him now, inching up against him as his words echoed around all the emotion of the day. Still her eyes shut nearly resting a bit as she exhaled again, "I know..." She'd heard him apologize to so many people, he'd had to been sick of the words sooner or later, but she knew he meant them. Every time. Every chance. Twisting herself against him, she let her chin press toward his shoulder a bit, her mouth settling against the crook of his neck where it met shoulder. Her shoulders shifted up a bit as she inhaled, letting her body acclimate itself to the position however uncomfortable still felt comforting because he was still there, not shying away from her for once.
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It should've been more awkward, he decided. She was pressed up against him wearing so little clothing and he, well, he was in his jim jams, not even a proper suit. And yet...her breath against his neck reminded him that she was alive and with him and that, well, that was so wonderful the awkwardness didn't have room to hang around.
He pulled the blanket over them. He'd reach up for the pillow in a minute, maybe. Maybe. This wasn't so bad as it was. He let his thumb trace circles on her shoulder blade, the texture of her tee rubbing against the ridges in his thumbprint. If he focused, he could almost feel each one. Another comforting thing.
He turned his head and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I would...I won't. Leave you behind. Not again."
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Her forehead still pressed close to his shoulder she tipped her head aside, laying against him easily as her eyes opened for a moment. She could tell he'd shaved, that smoothness of his skin now there when before she could nearly count the days he'd been without one. Her hand strayed up to brush against the surface of his cheek, backs of her knuckles lightly grazing against him. "You shaved," her words more of an observance of the obvious than anything else really. Letting her hand drop to rest upon one of his hearts she sighed, "My foot's gonna fall asleep like this, but I don't want you to leave either."
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"My ankle's a bit pretzeled as well, we could..." How to ask this and not sound terribly rude? "Move to your bed, maybe? I mean, just to sleep, I'm not---well, I mean, we could try stretching out on the floor, too?" It would certainly be more comfortable, if also more intimate.
Oh, he was ridiculous when it came to intimate situations. Especially intimate situations that involved bedrooms. Especially intimate situations that involved bedrooms and Rose. Well, the last he'd only just discovered but it certainly took the cake.
"If you'd like? I...don't want to go." Not yet, at least. He needed her, and that was something he was loathe to admit out loud even if he'd allowed himself to admit it in his mind.
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This was so different for both of them, even after everything on Gallifrey they'd still gone to their own rooms... which Rose now realized was for reasons other than needing a bit of space. Her hand brushed to her face, knuckles pushing her hair out of her face as she stifled a yawn against him, "I'm not tired... really." Honestly she was more exhausted than tired, and as her body shifted against him again she pushed up to her feet. Bare legs from the tops of her thighs to her toes caught the pale light from the hallway as she extended her hand down toward her thigh for the Doctor, "Floors too cold, just lay next to me... till I fall asleep then yeah?"
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"Yeah, 'course I will." He took her extended hand and held it.
He reached his other hand to touch her cheek. She was so young, he realized, looking at her features in the light of the doorway. Her eyes were clear and bright. She was such the opposite of him in so may ways. It was why they worked well, he decided. She was youth and vitality when he became cold and dark.
"I warn you, though, my feet are always cold."
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Pulling away from him she moved onto her bed, kneeling her way across to the further side, where she usually ended up falling asleep anyway. Never really picking a side to the bed in life meant that she'd easily sleep wherever she was, but on the TARDIS she always stayed away from the door. Some psychological barrier she figured to not wanting to be close to whatever was going to venture into her room. Of course she never thought it'd be the Doctor. Her feet shoved beneath the covers for a moment as she turned onto her side to wait for him to climb into the bed. Meeting his eyes she let a laugh of a breath come from her lightly, "Come on... cold feet an' all."
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He wasn't nervous. That is, he wasn't very nervous. That is, his nervousness existed on several levels and all of them were very deep and serious. There was so much implied by sleeping with someone in a bed. Especially a woman whom one had recently admitted certain feelings towards. But his mind was always overreacting to little things. To handholding that lingered a little too long and....generally foolish things.
If Rose could hear his brain, she'd probably roll her eyes and say 'You're just being the Doctor.' As if he were a noun, or perhaps a state of mind.
Speaking of, he began to ramble, if quietly. "Well, it's the lowered Gallifreyan body temperature, keeps the skin at a constantly lower state and the extremities like my feet tend to get colder! S'why I always wear so many socks, can't have them getting too cold it's just too distracting..."
He moved to the bed and slipped in next to her. The mattress was still warm, and significantly softer than his own. Cushy and soft. He laid his head down on the pillow and moved to his side to look at her. He grew quiet and tried to calm his suddenly hyperactive brain. Well, "suddenly" meaning "it had been hyperactive but now it was annoyingly loud and hyperactive." He cursed his brain for not even allowing him a few moments of peace with Rose.
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Leaving her hand to rest to his cheek she inched closer to him, letting herself fit against him. Her hand slipped away from his cheek, and settled to his chest close to where her cheek pressed. The top of her head situated beneath his chin nearly fit perfectly in comparison to him. Drawn close to him she could feel the exhale of his breath from his lungs, the deepness that they drew in. "He sold his soul... Dean did. For Sam." Rose wasn't even sure where her muttered words were headed but she knew she still had a lot of thought going on in her head about the whole thing. "Means... he's not with.. like family. Yeah?" It wasn't even that Rose wanted to believe in notions like Heaven and Hell, but if there was such a thing as being able to sell your soul... she had to believe there was someplace that those people had to go.
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He wrapped his arm around her and held her to him. He could accept the comfort, but he didn't really know how to give it in return. He was so bad at this sort of thing. Good at making people afraid or cry, but bad at making them feel better. He was the Doctor. He wanted to make people better, but he failed. Often.
He wanted to fix that with Rose.
At her words, he drew a breath and tried to think of the right sort of response. She wouldn't want a lie, that'd just make her angry and possibly kick him out (which he really didn't want at this moment). But he didn't want to hurt her with what he truly believed.
"I think Dean's living---or, uh, afterliving---with hope, even if he has nothing else. You know Sam, Rose. Won't let him go, will he? He's trapped but that hope keeps you going."
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