Fic: Seeking Primes - Part 5
Title: Seeking Primes [5/?]
Author: WhosInTheAttic
Beta: dtstrainers
OT3: Ten/Rose/Eleven
Words: 2,538
Rating: MA
Spoilers: Doomsday and Journey's End; best to avoid if you haven't seen everything up to The Eleventh Hour.
Author's Notes: Very much love to dtstrainers; she held my hand through so much of this chapter, and were it not for our late-night IMing sessions, this would still be one of my shoddy outlines.
Warnings: OT3, het, slash
| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |
After extricating himself from the peculiar situation he’d found himself in the night before, the Doctor felt relieved; but after returning to the console room, he’d just felt an aching sense of loss. He ruffled his hair and smoothed the imaginary wrinkles from the front of his pinstriped trousers as he willed his erection away. He was lonely to the very depths of himself, but having his older self aboard the TARDIS left him conflicted. He was with another Time Lord, yet still alone, and the older Doctor’s presence only served as a reminder that one day Rose would be gone and he would be left alone again. It wasn’t as if the thought had never crossed his mind; in fact, it had paraded itself about at the forefront of his consciousness for months before he’d finally shoved it aside. His last self had been much better at playing reserved than he could ever hope to, that was a certainty.
The first time had been in a fit of passion; they’d just returned to the TARDIS after the coronation, and finally the facade of contentment he’d donned for the neighborhood party shattered. Seeing Rose without her face had cut him to the quick, and he chose to ignore her mortality. He had claimed her mouth; in short order, had lifted her pink skirt and taken her hard and fast on the console, and she had let him. His memory echoed with the sounds of her crying out his name; her pleas of “Yes!” and “More!” bouncing off the walls of the control room, followed by the silence that overtook them both when he’d realized what he’d done. When her tears came, he’d thought he’d hurt her; instead, she’d been afraid that he would send her away.
He shook his head to clear away the memories and then set to work tinkering beneath the console.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
The next morning, Rose awoke lying on her back; the older Time Lord’s hand resting delicately on her bare stomach, his other hand propping up his head, leaning on his elbow so he could watch her. She stretched a little and wiggled her toes before turning on her side to face him. “Some girls might think it’s creepy to think their bloke is watching them while they sleep,” she smiled.
“But not you,” he grinned back.
“You get a bit of a pass,” she gave him a cheeky grin, and he leaned in to kiss it away.
“It isn’t my fault you spend so much of your life sleeping,” he teased.
“Shut up,” she replied, pulling him in by the shoulder for another kiss, sighing as her tongue slid over his.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
Rose found her Doctor under the console in the morning when she emerged from the corridor in naught but a dressing gown. He turned to see her feet beside him, toes curling against the grating. “I’m gonna make breakfast for the three o’ us; eggs and sausage with toast. You want some?”
“Sure,” he said, shifting to get a look at her, “I’m just about done here, then I will be in to help you with the tea,” he smiled.
“Alright,” she turned and headed toward the galley, “I’ll see you in a mo’,” she called over her shoulder. He finished up the last of the wiring and slid out from beneath the console. Now that Rose was up, he didn’t have to hide from his own thoughts anymore, and he wanted to steal a few moments with her before he had to start hiding from his other self.
He shoved last night’s events to the back of his mind, trying not to think of the feel of warm lips on his, the older man’s hand curled around his length, or the way they’d moved together…no. He was most certainly not thinking about that.
“Can I help?” he asked Rose sweetly, curling his hands around her hips and kissing her neck.
“Sure you can, y’big flirt,” she said lightly, shrugging him off gently, “Kettle’s over there,” she tilted her head toward the stove. As he moved to fill the kettle and put it on the burner, she asked, “So how was your night then? You have that look about you; that you’ve been tinkerin’ for hours.”
Rose had become quite adept at recognizing when he had something weighing on his mind, “I was,” he confirmed.
“It’s not me, is it? I mean, these last few days have been…strange,” she said, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, “But we’re okay, yeah?” she asked.
“Of course we’re okay.”
Rose furrowed her brows, the tone of his voice not entirely convincing, she took a deep breath, “It’s not…you know I don’t, I mean,” she spluttered.
“What?” he arched an eyebrow.
“If it’s about last night,” she sighed, not quite looking him in the eye, “If you’re worried I’m goin’ to think you’re...” she hesitated before finally forcing the word out, “gay, or whatever, I don’t.” She looked at him a moment, and he seemed almost shocked, “I mean, I know I’m just a twenty-first century girl, an’ sometimes you think I don’t understand some things-and maybe I don’t-,” her eyes met his at last, “but this, this I do.”
“Rose, I…” he paused, “I appreciate all of this,” he said, planting his hands on her waist, “your astute understanding of my sexuality, especially,” he squeezed her hips gently and then let go, “But it’s a bit more complicated even than that.”
“Because he’s you?” she asked, taking a small step back. Rose could always cut right to the heart of the matter. His hesitation was all the answer she needed. “I can imagine it’s a bit weird,” she took his hand, “Lookin’ and touchin’ are two different things, yeah?”
He pursed his lips, and then looked into her eyes; the warmth and tenderness in her made him smile, “Yeah, it is a bit,” he swallowed, “difficult to process.”
She stood up on her toes and leaned in to kiss him, and pulled back so that he could see her winning smile, “Well, I thought the two of you were gorgeous,” she touched her tongue to the corner of her mouth and raised an eyebrow. He bit his lip to stifle a smile, thinking of the sounds she’d made when he’d kissed his older self, heat pooling in his groin as he remembered the feel of the other man’s lips against his, and the taste of Rose shared between them, “And turnabout’s fair play, and all that?”
The Doctor’s eyebrows attempted to escape into his hairline, his mouth opening and closing several times, but before he could respond, the kettle began to wail. He seemed nearly relieved, and just like that, the moment to talk was over. As Rose set to work making the eggs and sausage, she cast a sideways look at him as he prepared their tea; she wondered if he understood what she was getting at, or if she’d only bungled things.
“Good morning!” the older Time Lord said cheerily as he entered the galley. The Doctor cradled his mug and nodded at his counterpart, and Rose turned to smile.
“Mornin’!” Rose said, “I’m makin’ eggs and sausage; the kettle’s just come off, so there’s tea if you’d like.”
“Sounds wonderful,” he said, crossing the floor to where they stood. The younger Time Lord stepped aside to allow him access to the tea, and he set to work preparing it how he liked. He leaned against the counter and took a drink, making a face when he burned his mouth, spitting the tea back into the mug as discreetly as possible. The younger Time Lord smirked and couldn’t decide whether to be amused or embarrassed for himself.
He straightened his bow tie and set the mug on the counter before taking some plates out of the cabinet for their breakfast. He studied the profile of his younger self (who was very pointedly not looking at him), searching his own memories for clues as to what the lean, bespectacled man was thinking. The older Time Lord held the plates as Rose served up the eggs and sausage, handing the first to his younger self, placing the second on the countertop for himself, and after Rose filled the third plate, he held it out to her with a smile.
In short order, the three of them were seated around the table, the two Time Lords opposite each other, and Rose to the left of her Doctor and the right of the other. “Another delicious breakfast, Rose,” the younger Doctor complimented.
“Yes, these bangers were spot-on,” the older added.
She smiled, “Thanks.”
The silence between them was a bit stiff, but still companionable. It was difficult for the older Time Lord; foreknowledge was a dangerous thing, and there was only so much he could reveal about himself and the life he’d lived since he’d been her Doctor. He sifted through his new-old memories to try to understand the man sitting across from him; he was unsure of what to say, but just then he knew that both of them were thinking about what had happened between them the night before. His younger self was withdrawing further behind a thick veil of Time Lord rules of conduct and outmoded tradition to which he selectively adhered. It frustrated the older Doctor, because it was that very behavior that had led him to waste so much time with Rose and leave so many things left unsaid that really, really needed saying. Part of him hated him for that, but the older Time Lord wanted acceptance in equal measure; he could never hope for forgiveness, especially not from himself-as if it would count anyway-but if he could just be accepted by his counterpart as he’d been accepted by Rose, maybe he could have some momentary peace.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
After breakfast, she set her fork down and asked, “Do you two mind doin’ the washin’ up? I really need to have a shower.”
“We’ve got it all under control,” the older Doctor said.
“Do you need any help?” her Doctor asked playfully.
“I need to get clean in the shower, so no; this one’s all me,” she planted a kiss on his cheek before breezing out of the galley.
The two Time Lords looked at each other across the table, still silent, sipping their tea. “I see you take it with more sugar now,” the younger one commented.
“Yeah; got a bit of a sweet tooth this time around,” the older man replied vaguely.
The younger Doctor sighed and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’m sorry,” he tugged at his ear, “I’m sorry for being a right prat last night, and I…it wasn’t fair to you.”
“Are you saying I was right?” the older Doctor asked, sipping his tea and struggling to keep the smugness in his voice from creeping onto his face.
The Doctor considered, and rubbed at the hair on the back of his head, “Wellll, I can just say that maybe, perhaps, you weren’t wrong.”
“That’s good enough for me,” he said, as the memories started filtering in. He furrowed his brows and spoke, “I’m sorry, too,” he said at last, “I’m sorry that I make you see something you don’t want to.”
The younger Doctor leaned back in his chair, “Oh, well that’s not your fault now, is it? We came to you.”
“All the same, I am sorry.”
The Time Lord in pinstripes nodded slightly, “Can’t last forever, can it?”
“Things seldom do, you know; it’s better to enjoy them-her-while you can,” he sipped his tea again, “You know how she feels about you,” he stated with certainty born from memories stretching all the way back to blue eyes and jumpers.
“Yeah. That’s what makes it so hard,” he replied, staring down into his mug.
“You’re thinking about Sarah Jane, aren’t you?” he paused, “Of course you are.”
“I couldn’t bear to watch her grow old, so instead I left her, and she did it alone.”
“Yes, but did you feel for her what you feel for Rose?” the older Doctor asked, already knowing the answer. It wasn’t about the validity or strength of feelings. It was about the man he was many faces ago, and the man the Time War had made him. It was the timing, and there was really no…
“That’s really not a fair comparison,” the younger Time Lord glowered as he leaned forward and swirled the contents of his nearly-empty mug, “At any rate, I’d like to think I’ve gotten wiser and less self-centered in my old age,” he said, “but after everything…” he trailed off.
“You mean after Gallifrey,” the older Doctor said.
The younger Doctor sighed and removed his glasses, setting them on the table. He took a swig from his mug and grimaced at the tea that had gone cold. He set it down more firmly than necessary and replied, “Yes, after the destruction of Gallifrey,” he said firmly, “I’m not sure I have it in me to lose one more thing-person-that I…” again, the word died in his throat.
“Yes. Well,” his older self said when he realized his counterpart wasn’t going to finish the thought out loud, “The thing is, it’s not a matter of what you have in you; it’s a matter of what she deserves.”
“What she deserves,” the younger Time Lord asserted, his eyes shining with unshed tears, “is a fantastic life; one she can share with a man who can give her everything: a proper home, with doors and carpets; children of their own; and a forever they can share. I can’t be that man.”
“That’s where you’re wrong; what she deserves is a choice; something we never gave Sarah Jane.”
“But what if-”
“The ‘what if’ doesn’t matter,” the older Doctor insisted. “What matters is what you’re willing to give up for her happiness.”
“I’d give up my own happiness for her. I’d give her up. It’s what I have to do; I’m the Last of the Time Lords and I have a duty to the universe. I don’t want this responsibility, but there’s no one else to do it, and that’s my fault, too,” he pursed his lips and inhaled deeply through his nose to fight back the tears looming just behind is eyes. He replaced his glasses on the bridge of his nose and regarded his older self grimly.
The older Time Lord reached out and took his hand, and for that moment the tenderness from the previous night returned. They stayed silent for a long moment, before the gaze of the younger Doctor fell upon the wrist of the other. “Why in the name of Rassilon’s pants are you wearing a wristwatch? And here I thought I’d outgrown the need for ironic accessories.”
It looks classy, though doesn’t it?” the older man withdrew his hand and brought it up to join the other one in straightening his bow tie, “Besides, it completes the look, don’t you think?” What he didn’t say, though he let himself think smugly, Wristwatches are cool.
| Part 6 |