Finding Their Feet
Title: Finding Their Feet
Author: veiled_shadow
Pairing: 10.5/Rose
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Sadly, own nothing *sob*
Spoilers: Post-Journey’s End
N\A: This was written in the very early hours of the morning and came out of nowhere whilst trying to write many other ideas that came after *that* episode. Forgive me for mistakes, etc, but I don’t have a beta. Feel free to point them out and comments = <3
Finding Their Feet
One of the things he has to adapt to is his need for sleep. In his completely Gallifreyan body he needed, oh, 2 hours sleep maximum in a week or so. But now - now he needs at least 4 hours sleep a day, and even then he feels drowsy. It is utterly strange, he concludes after a lot of thought and running many calculations that litter the Tyler’s living room floor [much to the chagrin of Jackie, who grumbles and mutters about him being worse than Tony] and staining his fingers with blue ink. Yet he likes it - the sleeping saga that is so human. He likes waking up feeling drowsy and content, wanting to sink deeper into the thick duvet and doze. It doesn’t however, mean he doesn’t long for a warm body pressed against his and blonde hair tickling his nose.
In terms of Rose, it is four days before she comes and finds him. As it turns out, he’s asleep but his still ever heightened senses wash over him with her presence, so he stirs and forces himself to open his eyes.
Blinking in the dark it takes him a few seconds for him to adjust and then he can make her out, his beautiful Rose, looking oh, so tired in the doorway.
“Rose?” he asks, voice hoarse from lack of use.
“Sorry,” she stammers, suddenly looking uncertain and taking a step back. “I didn’t know you’d be asleep. I forget -“
‘- You’re different,’ hangs in the air but she trails off, looking at the floor with her tired, tired eyes. He tries not to let it hurt, but that ever so human trait creeps through and his heart aches horribly.
“It’s ok,” he tells her and the silence falls over them.
Not knowing what to do he stares at the ceiling and when he feels the bed dip with her weight he tries not to act surprised, keeping his eyes transfixed at a crack in the ceiling, not wanting to scare her off. Her bare leg brushes his as she lies beside him and he tries not to shiver, but fails. They stay like that for a while, in silence, and although he itches to touch her, he waits.
Until finally -
“I thought we should, y’know...talk,” she says, finishing somewhat lamely as if she’s just stating the obvious but saying nothing that really means anything at all. It reminds him of that poem by Ted Walker he read all those years ago, sitting in the library in the Tardis. ‘Letter to Barbados’ it was called, expressing how people can say so many things but nothing at all. It sums up him, he realises, the way he babbles, and babbles, talking non-stop, reeling off facts because he’s so scared he’s going to lose her - his Rose - and he can’t - he can’t lose her again because he knows it will kill him.
So he does what he does best. He talks.
“Ah yes, talk,” he says somewhat too brightly for someone who’s just woken up, “Great thing talking, very good at that you know, could win the Talk Olympics me.”
She’s staring at him, he knows; he can feel her eyes on him, those brown, hazel eyes with just a touch of green.
“In fact,” he continues, trying to hide how unnerved he is with her gaze transfixed on him, “When I was with Donna I managed to talk our way out of jail because I annoyed and confused the judges so much they banished me from the planet! Can you believe that, Rose? Me! Banished from a planet?! I mean, really, all I tried to do was point out that if they added bananas to their celebration banquet then it would be far better. How was I supposed to know bananas were regarded as unholy on Xanga? Honestly, i’ve never been put in jail for brandishing a banana before - mmphl!”
He’s cut off He’s cut off by Rose Tyler pressing her lips hard against his. He’s so surprised that he spends the time that could have been immensely pleasant in utter shock and just when he comes to his senses and leans up to deepen the kiss, she pulls away, flopping back onto the bed with a groan.
“Well,” he manages to squeak, after a while, “That was unexpected.”
And to his surprise she laughs. He looks at her in amazement, the sound so beautiful and so rare that he can’t help but grin back, watching as tears slip down her cheeks - a mixture of sorrow and happiness he knows, but he sees this as a step forward all the same.
When she finally calms down, wiping the tears away with the back of her hand, she sighs, turning her head into the pillow.
“You smell the same.”
“Is that a good or a bad thing?” he asks, frowning.
She pauses, shifting onto her side like he is and looks at him.
“Good,” she reassures him.
Hesitantly she raises a shaky hand; eyes never leaving his as she reaches out and touches his face. He gasps at the touch, exhaling shakily and trying not to shudder but once again failing. Her eyes widen, startled, but she doesn’t draw away.
“You never used to react that way when I touched you,” she says after a while.
“Yes, I did,” he says, voice soft and low, matching the mood of the room, which is still thick with sleep.
“No, you didn’t,” she replies firmly shaking her head, her voice turning defiant and her barriers starting to go back up. “You never reacted that way.”
“I did, Rose, honestly I did,” he says, pleading her to believe him, his gaze never faltering from hers and the way he looks at her makes her stop and listen. “Whenever you touch me I feel like that, I always have but I used to be able to control how I reacted to your touch. That’s the difference between me now; being half human I act on those small impulses that I used to try and prevent. I have heightened senses, when you touch me I don’t just feel your skin against mine I feel all the pheromones, the emotion. I guess you could say I’m extra sensitive in a way, and so it’s more intense than it would be if I touched you. I mean I could stop myself from reacting that way, do you want me to? I can if that’s what you want? I don’t mind -”
He ends panicked and rushed, breaking off and leaving it hanging in the air. He still desperately wants her to accept him and his eyes widen and plead her to understand what she does to him - what she’s always done to him.
“So,” she says slowly as if she’s trying to grasp what he’s telling her, “You sense things differently to how I do?”
“Yup,” he says, popping the ‘p’. “Exactamundo.”
[He adds a silent damn after saying that, deeming it as inappropriate to say it out loud in what he’s categorising as a serious conversation.]
She frowns. “But I thought you were half human, doesn’t that make you -”
“Different from before?” he prompts, knowing she doesn’t want to say it. “Yes, but I’m still half Gallifreyan, Rose. All those Gallifreyan traits don’t just leave me. Being human means I act on things I wouldn’t usually before.” He sighs, frustrated at how he can’t explain it simply to her. “It’s like when you really, really like someone that you aren’t supposed to and they go to hold your hand, and all that excitement and adrenaline rushes through you and you know you shouldn’t hold their hand but you want to so much that you do it anyway, almost without thinking. Before, if you touched me and I wanted to react that way I’d of stopped it, because it wasn’t wise Rose, it would have led to so much more and I couldn’t do that to you.”
She’s turned away from him now, her eyes turned to the ceiling, full with tears.
“Why?” she manages, voice shaking and tears threatening to fall.
“Because he - I am so in love with you that when you die he’d of fallen apart. Don’t you see, he’d have to watch you die. He has forever Rose, but you don’t.”
“He never said,” she chokes. “Why couldn’t that you say it? I needed -“
“Because he - I wasn’t human.”
“So?” she says, and it’s such an utterly human thing to say that he wrestles down a sad smile and the wish to hug her to him.
He wants to tell her he loves her then, just like he did on Bad Wolf Bay for the both of them, because the other him couldn’t, even though he had wanted to with all his hearts. But he knows, in a way that will just break her heart more, so he keeps quiet. Instead he finds her hand, slipping his fingers through hers, intertwining them and it feels perfect. His skin is still slightly cooler against hers and he’s hoping that she’s going to respond in some way, because he needs the reassurance - needs to know it’s going to be ok in the end, despite everything.
He only realises he’s holding his breath when her fingers, which were once limp respond, curling round his. It’s brief, but it’s enough and he immediately longs for the contact again as she draws away, getting off the bed.
Just as she reaches the doorway, she turns.
“Is that why you lick everything?”
He blinks at her, confused.
“Y’know,” she prompts, “You like to...lick things? Is that your heightened senses making you do that?”
“I lick things?” he asks in bewilderment, the concept so completely new to him that a flicker of a smile tugs at the corner of her lips. “I was never aware of that before,” he tells her slowly, desperately trying to remember a time whenever he has licked anything.
She just shakes her head at him, a small smile of disbelief on her lips and then she’s gone.
The next morning is better. When he comes down for breakfast Rose is already at the table and when he walks in she looks up and makes a point of meeting his gaze. She doesn’t smile, not really, but she says good morning and passes him the raspberry jam with a silent understanding.
He does catch her smiling however, when Jackie scolds him for dipping his fingers in the jam jar. She looks away for a second when she realises he’s noticed, as if embarrassed, but then she raises her eyes to meet his and she grins as he grins, his jam covered fingers still in his mouth.
They don’t even realise when Jackie notices and promptly shuts up.