for muses_inthesack: Girl Like You
And I've never met a girl like you before
You give me just a taste so I want more and more
Now my hands are bleeding and my knees are raw
Now you've got me crawlin', crawlin' on the floor
And I've never met a girl like you before
You've made me acknowledge the devil in me Edwyn Collins - Girl Like You
It's perfect for them, so they say.
He loves her. She loves him.
They take a zeppelin back to London. The sunset paints the Norwegian sky dark blues and pale browns and Rose tucks her arm in his elbow and leans against his shoulder. It's a little awkward and his arm ends up falling asleep, but he doesn't move. He doesn't want to move, not now that they're together. Together in a strange world he knows nothing about.
He has memories of sitting with her before, like this, in the TARDIS. They fit so well, then.
She leads him from the beach to her flat and they have pizza and white wine and share a bubble bath and talk about what this means. What does this mean, this life they've been handed. What does this mean, now that he's the Doctor but not quite the Doctor? Rose says she'll think of it as a new regeneration, everything will work out. Should she call him the Doctor? No, they'll call him John. It's easy, he's been called that before, he'll get used to it. They'll get used to it.
They look at each other across the bath and he asks her if this is what she wants. She leaves the bath to go fetch the wine and that's answer enough, he supposes.
They meet up in the bedroom. He tries for humor, a comment about how he probably snores now, because Donna snored. She doesn't laugh.
She steps forward and kisses him fiercely, desperately. She kisses him like he's air, like he's the only thing keeping her alive. Her thin body presses through her silk robe, her hips grinding against his. He has no control over blood flow in this new form, so he finds himself suddenly, painfully aroused. He feels desire as a human would feel desire: Raw, needy, instinctual. It's fascinating.
He pushes her towards the bed and they both tumble onto it. She bites his shoulder and tugs on his jim jam bottoms and he kisses down the column of her breasts and no matter how good his part-human body thinks this feels, somehow it feels wrong to do this, now.
We should wait, he says, his voice is low and hoarse.
We waited for years, she says, and she scrapes her nails down his torso. Please.
He doesn't deny her. He remembers that before he couldn't touch her, he had to preserve himself. In this life, this all-too-short life that's slowly ticking away, he has a chance to be with her. He won't lose her. They won't lose each other.
Afterwards, she lies on his chest, but the sound of his one heart brings tears to her eyes and she turns away. She wants to hear two.
He loves her. She loves Him.
Rose, John (the Doctor, whoever), living out life in domesticated bliss. It's the life he remembers wanting. He remembers wanting to live the simple life, the easy life. He even remembers longing for that life with Rose, and now he has it. He works at Torchwood with Rose during the day and sleeps in Rose's bed in Rose's flat at night. They go on little adventures together, fail at baking, and even talk about marriage. Oddly enough, she's less inclined to the idea than he is. Maybe it's the Donna in him, she says.
He's getting used to his new quirks, the new way he thinks. The blend of Donna in him is good; it compliments his other traits well. He's able to be the life of a party and play office politics at work. He doesn't stick out as badly as he did in his youth. He knows what gifts to buy Rose around the holidays. He even finds he relates to Jackie better nowadays, which is good because she's always fighting with Rose.
She's not all there. Rose, that is. She holds his arm rather than his hand because his hand is warm where the Doctor's wasn't. She sleeps on her side so she can't feel his single heartbeat. She adjusts his hair when it isn't spiked up quite to her memory.
She doesn't call him John. She doesn't call him anything, in general. "You" "He" and "Him". Still, they're enough.
At first, he plays along. She misses the Doctor and in a way he misses being the Doctor, so the games are all right. He really does love her and this life, so it's worth it to be in the shadow of who he was.
They fight. That's the one thing he doesn't like. Money, work, whatever. They argue and shout and eventually one of them walks out of the flat for a while. They come back together and make up, which usually involves some form of acrobatic sexual encounter that leaves him exhausted and Rose strangely quiet.
They promise not to fight anymore. He has Donna's temper now, she says, though he remembers having a fairly bad temper before this.
That's something else he hates. When he does something she doesn't want, it's because he's got Donna in him, now. He's only mostly the man she loves, that's why they don't fit.
He's beginning to think the problem doesn't lie entirely with him.
He loves her. He loves her.
After one particularly nasty fight, he heads out for a drink. He drinks recreationally now as this new body actually feels the affects of alcohol, and after a fight with Rose it feels worth it, and the irritated look on her face when he comes home feels good.
Not seen a face that long since I went horseback riding, the woman next to him says.
Donna. Donna Saxon, nee Noble. Three-time married (twice divorced, the latest just hopped a spaceship and left) occasional consult for Torchwood. She doesn't know who the Doctor is, all she knows is this bloke is dating the Vitex heiress and he's clearly unhappy. And if there's anything Donna enjoys, it's making someone happier.
And they seem to have rather complementary personalities. Who knew?
He tells her they should have an adventure. They hop a plane to the Bahamas. He doesn't bother calling Rose.
Donna's not quite the Donna he remembers. She's more secure with herself; the attitude comes from knowing she's brilliant rather than thinking she's not worth it. But he's not quite the Doctor that was her best friend on the other universe, either, so they work. They do fun things like go to the beach and shop and sit under the stars. She flirts and he can't help but reciprocate. It's so much fun to spar with Donna.
She holds his hand because she doesn't want him to be the Time Lord who left her and when she tucks herself against his shoulder while they ride back from the beach, she's soft and warm and it feels like they fit.
He kisses her. Slowly, cautiously. One hand cups the side of her face and her hands snake around his waist and it feels like the kiss on Bad Wolf Bay should've felt. Like the beginning rather than the end.
She pulls him towards her and he doesn't feel like it's too soon by the time they make it to the hotel room bed. She murmurs the name John against his throat and doesn't want him to be the Doctor and he doesn't want her to be Rose. Rose is thin and cold and pushes him down with a fierceness. Donna is warm and soft and they touch gently and move slowly. He traces his hand up her thigh and she musses up his hair and he can't figure out why he didn't love her back when he was the Doctor.
This isn't war, it isn't some battle with him and a memory.
She sleeps against his chest, his single heartbeat all she needs.
He loves her. She loves him.
It's not what the Doctor might've wanted, but He isn't there. He doesn't know what he's going through, and the pushed-together happy-ending isn't right for either John or Rose.
But he never really lived that life for himself, he lived it for Him, the man Rose wishes he was.
You're not who I thought you were, she says.
He nods. It must be the Donna in me.
Muse: The Doctor (Ten) (Duplicate)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,383
Based on RP with doctorsplusone
You give me just a taste so I want more and more
Now my hands are bleeding and my knees are raw
Now you've got me crawlin', crawlin' on the floor
And I've never met a girl like you before
You've made me acknowledge the devil in me Edwyn Collins - Girl Like You
It's perfect for them, so they say.
He loves her. She loves him.
They take a zeppelin back to London. The sunset paints the Norwegian sky dark blues and pale browns and Rose tucks her arm in his elbow and leans against his shoulder. It's a little awkward and his arm ends up falling asleep, but he doesn't move. He doesn't want to move, not now that they're together. Together in a strange world he knows nothing about.
He has memories of sitting with her before, like this, in the TARDIS. They fit so well, then.
She leads him from the beach to her flat and they have pizza and white wine and share a bubble bath and talk about what this means. What does this mean, this life they've been handed. What does this mean, now that he's the Doctor but not quite the Doctor? Rose says she'll think of it as a new regeneration, everything will work out. Should she call him the Doctor? No, they'll call him John. It's easy, he's been called that before, he'll get used to it. They'll get used to it.
They look at each other across the bath and he asks her if this is what she wants. She leaves the bath to go fetch the wine and that's answer enough, he supposes.
They meet up in the bedroom. He tries for humor, a comment about how he probably snores now, because Donna snored. She doesn't laugh.
She steps forward and kisses him fiercely, desperately. She kisses him like he's air, like he's the only thing keeping her alive. Her thin body presses through her silk robe, her hips grinding against his. He has no control over blood flow in this new form, so he finds himself suddenly, painfully aroused. He feels desire as a human would feel desire: Raw, needy, instinctual. It's fascinating.
He pushes her towards the bed and they both tumble onto it. She bites his shoulder and tugs on his jim jam bottoms and he kisses down the column of her breasts and no matter how good his part-human body thinks this feels, somehow it feels wrong to do this, now.
We should wait, he says, his voice is low and hoarse.
We waited for years, she says, and she scrapes her nails down his torso. Please.
He doesn't deny her. He remembers that before he couldn't touch her, he had to preserve himself. In this life, this all-too-short life that's slowly ticking away, he has a chance to be with her. He won't lose her. They won't lose each other.
Afterwards, she lies on his chest, but the sound of his one heart brings tears to her eyes and she turns away. She wants to hear two.
He loves her. She loves Him.
Rose, John (the Doctor, whoever), living out life in domesticated bliss. It's the life he remembers wanting. He remembers wanting to live the simple life, the easy life. He even remembers longing for that life with Rose, and now he has it. He works at Torchwood with Rose during the day and sleeps in Rose's bed in Rose's flat at night. They go on little adventures together, fail at baking, and even talk about marriage. Oddly enough, she's less inclined to the idea than he is. Maybe it's the Donna in him, she says.
He's getting used to his new quirks, the new way he thinks. The blend of Donna in him is good; it compliments his other traits well. He's able to be the life of a party and play office politics at work. He doesn't stick out as badly as he did in his youth. He knows what gifts to buy Rose around the holidays. He even finds he relates to Jackie better nowadays, which is good because she's always fighting with Rose.
She's not all there. Rose, that is. She holds his arm rather than his hand because his hand is warm where the Doctor's wasn't. She sleeps on her side so she can't feel his single heartbeat. She adjusts his hair when it isn't spiked up quite to her memory.
She doesn't call him John. She doesn't call him anything, in general. "You" "He" and "Him". Still, they're enough.
At first, he plays along. She misses the Doctor and in a way he misses being the Doctor, so the games are all right. He really does love her and this life, so it's worth it to be in the shadow of who he was.
They fight. That's the one thing he doesn't like. Money, work, whatever. They argue and shout and eventually one of them walks out of the flat for a while. They come back together and make up, which usually involves some form of acrobatic sexual encounter that leaves him exhausted and Rose strangely quiet.
They promise not to fight anymore. He has Donna's temper now, she says, though he remembers having a fairly bad temper before this.
That's something else he hates. When he does something she doesn't want, it's because he's got Donna in him, now. He's only mostly the man she loves, that's why they don't fit.
He's beginning to think the problem doesn't lie entirely with him.
He loves her. He loves her.
After one particularly nasty fight, he heads out for a drink. He drinks recreationally now as this new body actually feels the affects of alcohol, and after a fight with Rose it feels worth it, and the irritated look on her face when he comes home feels good.
Not seen a face that long since I went horseback riding, the woman next to him says.
Donna. Donna Saxon, nee Noble. Three-time married (twice divorced, the latest just hopped a spaceship and left) occasional consult for Torchwood. She doesn't know who the Doctor is, all she knows is this bloke is dating the Vitex heiress and he's clearly unhappy. And if there's anything Donna enjoys, it's making someone happier.
And they seem to have rather complementary personalities. Who knew?
He tells her they should have an adventure. They hop a plane to the Bahamas. He doesn't bother calling Rose.
Donna's not quite the Donna he remembers. She's more secure with herself; the attitude comes from knowing she's brilliant rather than thinking she's not worth it. But he's not quite the Doctor that was her best friend on the other universe, either, so they work. They do fun things like go to the beach and shop and sit under the stars. She flirts and he can't help but reciprocate. It's so much fun to spar with Donna.
She holds his hand because she doesn't want him to be the Time Lord who left her and when she tucks herself against his shoulder while they ride back from the beach, she's soft and warm and it feels like they fit.
He kisses her. Slowly, cautiously. One hand cups the side of her face and her hands snake around his waist and it feels like the kiss on Bad Wolf Bay should've felt. Like the beginning rather than the end.
She pulls him towards her and he doesn't feel like it's too soon by the time they make it to the hotel room bed. She murmurs the name John against his throat and doesn't want him to be the Doctor and he doesn't want her to be Rose. Rose is thin and cold and pushes him down with a fierceness. Donna is warm and soft and they touch gently and move slowly. He traces his hand up her thigh and she musses up his hair and he can't figure out why he didn't love her back when he was the Doctor.
This isn't war, it isn't some battle with him and a memory.
She sleeps against his chest, his single heartbeat all she needs.
He loves her. She loves him.
It's not what the Doctor might've wanted, but He isn't there. He doesn't know what he's going through, and the pushed-together happy-ending isn't right for either John or Rose.
But he never really lived that life for himself, he lived it for Him, the man Rose wishes he was.
You're not who I thought you were, she says.
He nods. It must be the Donna in me.
Muse: The Doctor (Ten) (Duplicate)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,383
Based on RP with doctorsplusone