Echoes of Summer - Chapter Fourteen: Distractions
Disclaimer: Neither Doctor Who nor any characters, items or materials of any kind pertaining to Doctor Who or the Whoniverse belong to me. I’m just looking for a good time. Hee. Trying them out for a bit, see how they fit.
Plot Summary: He was left with his lips against her jaw, her figure pressed to him as if she belonged there. One of many moments between the Tenth Doctor and Rose Tyler after he breaks his own rules to retrieve her from Bad Wolf Bay. The walls between worlds begin to fall, two different realities merging. And on the horizon a threat rises that threatens to destroy everything the Doctor holds dear.
Pairing: Ten/Rose
Beta: bratflorida
Rating: Starts at PG. Runs the gamut straight through to NC-17.
Spoilers: Oh yes. Tons of spoilers. All over the place. Probably without even meaning to but that’s what happens when you watch all the episodes like you’re possessed. So…erm…sorry.
Timeline: AU after the end of Series 2. Spoilers up to, including and going past Series 4 though. I’ve seen all of Series 1 through 4, including the series 4 specials but am not very familiar with the Classic Who much. As such, if I happen to include anything that really touches upon Classic Who, other than it being unintentional, I’ll be surprised out of my head. Really. You’ll probably see a lot of familiar things in the fic that play into the series of DW. Bear with me, it all ties in together.
Echoes of Summer
Prologue: In the End
Chapter One: Five and a Half Hours
Chapter Two: Explanations
Chapter Three: The First Tear
Chapter Four: Alone In This Bed
Chapter Five: The First Visit
Chapter Six: The Second Tear
Chapter Seven: The Rain
Chapter Eight: A Non-Human Chase
Chapter Nine: Two Hearts
Chapter Ten: What You See When You're Not Looking
Chapter Eleven: Dreaming of Wolves
Chapter Twelve: The Second Visit (Donna Noble Style)
Chapter Thirteen: Black and Blue
Chapter Fourteen - Distractions:
He didn’t even bother paying attention to the chameleon circuit. The TARDIS was informing him, yet again, of her fried wires when it came to the appearance of the phone box. Aside from the numerous small issues she was encountering, the chameleon circuit was the one that rang loudest as she connected with the Doctor.
“Are you serious?” the Doctor demanded, lost under her console, deep within her wires. “Are you really throwing that at me right now? Is there something specific you want to change into? Because the appearance of the phone box works just fine with me. I’ve managed it for years now, I can go on forever with-“
The door of the hallway opened faintly and he paused. How long had he been at work? Cursing under his breath in Gallifreyan, he slid out from under the console, already checking off the list. He was perspiring from the work, needed to change his clothes, and if Rose was ready now he would have to make her wait a bit more. And there was the slightest chance she wouldn’t appreciate that one bit.
Hopping to his feet, his hands swiping at his suit pants to dust off grime, he stood up and looked in the direction of the TARDIS hallway, an explanation already on his tongue.
Never had time moved so slowly as to almost freeze on him. Never had he been thankful that it could. He was doomed before he even understood, his lips parting.
She was bringing a small bag with her, digging into it absentmindedly as she approached. He was surprised his intellectual and superior senses even caught that small bit of information. His eyes immediately started at the bottom, quite frankly against the tiny voice in his head that stated he was gawking. And he found that he didn’t care.
She was lovely.
In the small moment that he had been frozen, he had registered every piece of her appearance as she had continued to near. But now with her attention diverted, he allowed himself to gaze at her unabashedly, his breath caught in his chest. His eyes fixed to her ankles first, sweeping down. Her legs were somehow, impossibly, balanced on high black heels as if they were trainers but with each step she radiated utter femininity, thoughtless beauty. Swallowing slowly, his eyes tentatively lifted from her ankles up the smooth lines of her legs to her knees. And he hesitated, momentarily allowing the tiniest edge of respect to seep through.
Oh, but she wasn’t looking anyway.
He tilted his head the slightest bit, eyes darting back to the hem of the black dress as it skimmed her bare slender thighs. Had her skin always been so golden, shimmering with that brilliant sheen? He felt the little air he had leave him, the small voice in his head alerting him to his respiratory bypass should he have need of it. The skirt flared out from her slender waist, swishing about loosely as she paused in mid-step, irritation crossing her features. With a small sigh she crouched, the hem of the dress hitching around her thighs in the process, and she set down her bag to dig through it. And he swallowed numbly, his gaze straying immediately to her breasts as she bent over her bag. He found himself taking a step thoughtlessly, his hands fisting slightly at his sides before he shoved them into the pockets of his suit. Forcing his eyes away he focused on the cut of the bodice, head falling back slightly. It was horizontally pleated across her breasts in a rich black material, trimmed with thick borders, slender straps winding around her bare shoulders to complete the dress. He cocked his head slightly at the shimmering fabric. It almost resembled the material he had come across on the planet…the planet…
He couldn’t, for the life of him, remember the name of the bloody planet.
As she straightened, finally finding what she was looking for in her bag, he had enough sense to quickly turn back to the console. He inhaled deeply, his hands a bit limp and he forced strength into them, bringing them from his pockets and down on the controls almost roughly. He thought of tea. And biscuits. And Queen Victoria. Torchwood. The Face of Boe. Jackie Tyler. Mickey Smith. Jackie Tyler. He clenched his eyes shut, bringing the woman’s face to mind but somehow it wouldn’t push the image of Rose in that black dress away. Jackie Tyler. Jackie Tyler. The Ood. Ooh, that did it. The Ood. With those tentacles branching from their faces. Oh yes. That eased the pressure a bit-
Her scent suddenly reached him almost violently, her own human fragrance mixed with the light cream she used every day, both underlying a subtle perfume. Too many scents. Was it possible for his senses to overload? He didn’t think so but at the moment he couldn’t be certain. “What do you think?” she asked him from behind, sounding distant.
Wincing faintly, realizing he had to turn to face her, he gave himself a small moment to breathe only to be nearly consumed with her scent.
Respiratory bypass. Right. Breathe. Jackie Tyler.The Ood. Ood, Ood, Ood.
He turned toward Rose as she set aside her handbag then stood fully before him. Lifting her hands at her sides, turning her head a bit, she fixed him with a look that demanded he be truthful with her. “Well?”
Taking almost a drive-by glance at her he immediately twirled back toward the console. “Lovely! You look wonderful! Ready, then?”
“You barely looked!” she cried in disbelief. And she reached out, taking hold of his arm and dragging him back forcefully.
He was spun back around to face her and now she was directly before him, his frame brushing hers, her scent suddenly overpowering. His lips parted instinctively, his eyes darting down to meet hers and for a moment he couldn’t speak. Neither could she, it seemed, as she found herself within such close quarters of him. Her hair shone smoother than he had ever seen it, straight long strands of pale blond wisps around her eyes and cheeks. Faintly curious, his hearts falling out of beat, he saw that the ends reached down her bare shoulders and back, wild. Swallowing, she lifted her head back to him, seeming to compose herself. “So?” she asked him softly, her breath faint, her stare trapping him.
He couldn’t see anything else except the darkness of her eyes as he met them. Summer night. “Uh…”
She gazed at him, head bowing, her lips pursing ever so slightly as if to prod him on.
“You look…um…” he uttered. And he settled himself, swallowing faintly and reprimanding himself silently. He was being ridiculous. This was Rose. “You look beautiful,” he said gently, feeling weakness settle in his limbs and somehow not understanding the sensation.
Blinking, her wide eyes straining as she gazed at him in surprise, she murmured softly, “Thanks.”
Staring at her, feeling the awkwardness that threatened to settle over them, he quickly spun away from her back to the console. “Well. I will admit that…time escaped me. I’ll need a bit to get ready, change out of these clothes. And then we’ll head out.” He fought the urge to turn back to her as he set the coordinates for the Rexan System. “That fine by you?”
“Yeah,” she replied slowly from behind him. “I didn’t nap as I wanted to so I did kinda finish ahead of time. You go ahead. I’ll wait.”
Hearing her shuffle away a bit he glanced over his shoulder in her direction to see her float toward the jump seat and plop down. Moving haltingly now, he finished inputting the data and set it for an hour, his fingers trailing across the controls. Then, hands finding their way into his pockets, he turned to look at her where she sat on the jump seat.
She lifted her eyes to him as he faced her slowly, tilting her head questioningly.
“I’ll only be a bit,” he said to her. And then, hesitating beside her, his eyes caught by hers, he murmured, “You really do look lovely.”
The smallest smile curled her lips, tremulous and weak. “Thanks,” she whispered.
With a last nod he left her, hopping down from the console to the hallway leading to the back rooms of the TARDIS. And Rose looked off after him, her legs curling up under her frame on the jump seat.
The black dress felt cold against her hot skin.
When he returned to the main room not long after, the TARDIS had only just sparked to life, coordinates scrolling down the console monitor. Rose glanced up, stretching her legs, high-heeled shoes set aside and she hesitated as he entered.
Dressed in a tuxedo, his head bowed, the Doctor strode across the console room, seeming to fumble with a cufflink. As he neared the console, he glanced at her and sent her a half-smile, slowing, his bowtie undone around his collar.
Rose swallowed faintly, giving him the once over before focusing entirely on his face and smile. “Am I under-dressed?” she quipped as he rounded the console, halting a few feet away. And she felt the blush rise in her cheeks, forcing herself not to show exactly what she felt or how fast her heart had suddenly begun to beat. How did he always manage to look so good with so little effort?
It was the hair, she decided then, a full smile breaking over her face. She ducked her head, hoping suddenly that his ability to read minds required physical contact and not a mere look. But she couldn’t stop her eyes from darting back to appreciate the view. Yes, definitely the hair. The whole package wasn’t too bad either though.
“Not a bit,” he was saying with a single shake of his head, drawing near. “You look absolutely beautiful. And quite honestly, I think I do, too.” And he grinned widely as he stopped before her.
She grinned as well, her eyes dropping to his cuff. “Come here, let me get that,” she murmured and she lifted her arms, reaching toward him.
Silently he held out his wrist, gazing down at her. Unaware of the attention he graced her with, she focused on the cufflink and corrected it for him, running a hand across it as she finished. And as she did so she looked up at him, wide eyes lined with black and silver, tendrils of soft baby fine hair falling down her shoulders as she tilted her head up.
He didn’t dare, he admonished himself a moment later. But it did not deter him from shifting his wrist away from her, from lifting a finger and using it to brush aside a lock of pale blond hair from her cheek. She gazed at him as he did so, her eyes losing focus for a small moment, a breath leaving her frame almost tremulously. Silently, he bent slowly and seated himself beside her, his eyes caught to hers as he did so. She followed his movements, lips parting, long hair slipping down from her shoulder as she bowed her head to maintain her stare.
“I think…” he said softly, his hand hovering beside her cheek, finger still extended, “that we’re dressed just right for the festivities.” And he tilted his head as he nudged aside the lock of hair further, eyes focused on the gesture.
“Or for staying in,” Rose whispered thoughtlessly, her tone wavering.
The Doctor’s eyes darted to meet hers once more.
Suddenly realizing what she had said, awareness flooded her gaze again and she immediately turned her head away from him. His finger trailed across her cheekbone as she did so and he hesitated, his finger curling away, his body recoiling from her wordlessly.
Awkwardness thrumming through her, Rose bent over and took a high-heeled shoe into her grasp once more, slipping it on before reaching for the other.
The Doctor settled on his rear, watching her work, recognizing the stressed energy to her movements. But he held his tongue as she seized the other shoe, his gaze shifting from her hand to the profile of her face.
Putting the shoe back on, she paused before smiling a bit too widely and she turned her attention to him again, sitting up straight. “So, we should be there soon,” she remarked. “The TARDIS started moving just as you got in-“
“Yes,” he said quickly and he snapped to his feet, practically lunging for the console and the monitor. “I had it set to leave within the hour. We actually should be coming up on the Rexan system right about-“
Rose reached out reflexively for balance as the TARDIS landed, jostling them about. With a small creak and a hard bang, the phone box ceased moving and Rose was left clutching the jump seat, glancing about warily.
“That was one of the smoothest landings I’ve ever had,” the Doctor marveled, lifting his head to the core of the TARDIS, a smile widening on his face.
Rose threw him a look.
Straightening slowly, hesitating only for a moment, the Doctor whirled on her, excitement filling his expression. “Ready?” he asked her and he practically hopped on his heels, grinning.
Quickly swiping her bag off the floor she paused and then immediately set it on the jump seat, hopping up. “Forget the bag. Let’s go!” And she came to a stop as the Doctor offered her his arm with a softening smile. Returning his grin she slipped her arm through his and allowed him to lead her down the ramp and out the doors of the TARDIS into the Gamorran night.
Next Chapter - Chapter Fifteen: King and Queen of Earth
Every part of her that he hadn’t touched had flared up into goose bumps and it had to be from the cold. But her skin flamed under his hands. She couldn’t think of a time when she’d felt hotter. And just when she was sure she would melt from such a heat, his other hand lifted, curling around her neck, fingers sliding into the soft hair at the nape. A sharp chill streaked down her back, feeling draining away from her own fingers, her frame shuddering against her will. Yes, for this one touch would she have given it all up. This one touch.