fic: proper firsts
“What are you doing?”
The Doctor, who had honestly thought that this was going to be a rather successful sneak attack, stops mid-stride with his tie dangling from his extended left hand. “Er. Nothing. Why don’t you, er…that is, weren’t you reading?”
Rose draws her eyebrows together, fixing him with a pointed stare over the top of her book. “Mm. And weren’t you sleeping?”
“Well…” He shrugs and flashes a would-be innocent smile, apparently waiting for her to go back to her book. After a long moment of stalemate, he exhales in a rush and kicks at the carpet. “Okay, it would’ve been more exciting my way but since someone ruined my surprise, here we go: Rose Tyler, I am taking you on an adventure.”
“You’re what?” She drops the book onto the couch cushion and stands so quickly that the room begins to spin around her, but she ignores it. This is the first time he has proposed an adventure in this world. She knows that he has needed time to sort through the idea of this new life-a life with an end in sight-and she has patiently given him time and space to do so, knowing that it won’t be long until he is ready. Apparently he is ready now.
A grin takes over her face and she rises up on the balls of her feet. “Where are we going?” she asks in an eager, too-loud voice, but he shakes his head and brandishes the tie at her.
“This is a surprise adventure!” he insists, and in an instant he is across the room, spinning her around and looping the tie over her eyes despite her cry of protest. “Come on, Rose. You’ll love it. Trust me!”
And trust him she does, despite the fact that his tie is pulling at her hair, and despite the fact that she won’t be able to watch the road and he is something of a reckless driver (the same man as before in even the smallest details).
***
Two hours, eight Disney singalongs, and at least a dozen frightening tire squeals later, he stops the car, helps her out, and announces, “we’re here!”
The enthusiasm in his voice is contagious, and she cannot keep a grin off her face as he dramatically pulls his tie from her eyes. Instantly she realizes that the dim roaring she hears is the sound of crashing waves and the grit under her shoes is sand, trailed in on the shoes of a million beachgoers to get stuck in the pavement of this parking lot. Her breathing slows as her mind drudges up memories of words unsaid and questions unanswered. She takes a small step backwards.
He catches her, slips an arm around her waist and pulls her close, nuzzling into her hair with his nose. “I thought,” he says, his voice soothing but maintaining its buoyancy, “that you and I deserved another chance at a day on the beach.” He moves to stand in front of her and slides his hands up and down her arms, looking down at her with something between compassion and encouragement. “If you want to go, we can go.”
She bites her lip and shakes her head, because he’s so hopeful, because he’s probably right, and because logic has just caught up with her: a two hour drive from London can’t have put them anywhere near Norway. “Where are we?”
“West Wittering! Chichester! West Sussex!” the Doctor answers in a louder voice. “The perfect getaway from London, said the brochure. Brochures are good, Rose. Very informative. Lots of pictures.” She giggles, and he grins and pulls her in for a hug. “So, what do you say?”
She glances over his shoulder and can just see the ocean, all blues and greens and golds, partially obscured by a few tourist shops. “I’m hardly dressed for it,” she points out, gesturing to her jeans.
“A-ha!” He darts around her to throw open the back door of the car and pull out a beach bag full to bursting. “Swimsuits, towels, sunblock, camera! Everything we could possibly need!”
“And it’s not even bigger on the inside.” Her tongue is poking between her teeth as she loops her arm through his. “I’m impressed.”
“Well, I’m quite impressive.” He beams at her as she rolls her eyes. “Shall we, Dame Rose?”
“Allons-y, Sir Doctor.”
***
Three hours later a very burned Doctor is standing over a lightly tanned Rose Tyler, shaking his hair and sending salt water flying. “Oy!” she protests as he collapses face first onto the towel beside her.
“Are you now a master body surfer?” she asks, pushing her sunglasses atop her hair.
“I’m well on my way!” he replies, ignoring the note of sarcasm in her voice. “And you? A master at tanning-all-day-instead-of-swimming-even-though-the-water-is-lovely?”
She raises an eyebrow at him before lowering her sunglasses again. “More lovely when one isn’t tossed in head first, I bet.”
He coughs loudly. “Accident. I thought you said ‘just throw me in.’”
“I said ‘I’ll just wade in!’”
“Right. Well…sounds similar.” She hmmphs and he smiles innocently, resting his cheek in the sand. “Still, you have to admit. Much better this time around.”
She makes a happy humming noise and nudges his foot with her toes. “Much. Not a bad first adventure.”
Fifteen seconds later he jerks his head up, groans in frustration, jumps up and sprints back towards the shops, leaving a bewildered Rose to sit up and call after him, “where are you going?” He is too far away to hear her so she just stares after him, hands clasped around her knees. She knows he’s coming back, this time and every time after, she knows he is. She is still immensely relieved when he returns minutes later holding a small bowl in one hand. She scrambles to her feet and wraps her arms around him, and he kisses the top of her head and holds tight and doesn’t ask “what was that for?”
Instead he says “here we are,” and shows her the contents of the bowl: a small pile of chips, glistening with grease. “Now it’s a proper first.”
The significance dawns on her immediately and she smiles broadly and pops one of the chips into her mouth. “Our first adventure,” she says around a mouthful. “We had chips.” And then she stands on her toes and winds one hand into his wet hair and presses her lips to his, and he presses back as his fingers find her waist, and the chips only barely manage to escape a long fall to a sandy demise.
“Come on,” she murmurs when they part, “let’s go swimming.”
She takes off running toward the water and he calls after her halfheartedly, “You’re not supposed to go in swimming right after eating!”
“You know me,” she yells back, “always breaking the rules!”
As he watches her dive headlong into a wave that towers above her head, he makes a mental note to tell her at least a hundred times tonight that he loves her. Then he sets the bowl of chips down on her beach towel and runs in after her.
The Doctor, who had honestly thought that this was going to be a rather successful sneak attack, stops mid-stride with his tie dangling from his extended left hand. “Er. Nothing. Why don’t you, er…that is, weren’t you reading?”
Rose draws her eyebrows together, fixing him with a pointed stare over the top of her book. “Mm. And weren’t you sleeping?”
“Well…” He shrugs and flashes a would-be innocent smile, apparently waiting for her to go back to her book. After a long moment of stalemate, he exhales in a rush and kicks at the carpet. “Okay, it would’ve been more exciting my way but since someone ruined my surprise, here we go: Rose Tyler, I am taking you on an adventure.”
“You’re what?” She drops the book onto the couch cushion and stands so quickly that the room begins to spin around her, but she ignores it. This is the first time he has proposed an adventure in this world. She knows that he has needed time to sort through the idea of this new life-a life with an end in sight-and she has patiently given him time and space to do so, knowing that it won’t be long until he is ready. Apparently he is ready now.
A grin takes over her face and she rises up on the balls of her feet. “Where are we going?” she asks in an eager, too-loud voice, but he shakes his head and brandishes the tie at her.
“This is a surprise adventure!” he insists, and in an instant he is across the room, spinning her around and looping the tie over her eyes despite her cry of protest. “Come on, Rose. You’ll love it. Trust me!”
And trust him she does, despite the fact that his tie is pulling at her hair, and despite the fact that she won’t be able to watch the road and he is something of a reckless driver (the same man as before in even the smallest details).
***
Two hours, eight Disney singalongs, and at least a dozen frightening tire squeals later, he stops the car, helps her out, and announces, “we’re here!”
The enthusiasm in his voice is contagious, and she cannot keep a grin off her face as he dramatically pulls his tie from her eyes. Instantly she realizes that the dim roaring she hears is the sound of crashing waves and the grit under her shoes is sand, trailed in on the shoes of a million beachgoers to get stuck in the pavement of this parking lot. Her breathing slows as her mind drudges up memories of words unsaid and questions unanswered. She takes a small step backwards.
He catches her, slips an arm around her waist and pulls her close, nuzzling into her hair with his nose. “I thought,” he says, his voice soothing but maintaining its buoyancy, “that you and I deserved another chance at a day on the beach.” He moves to stand in front of her and slides his hands up and down her arms, looking down at her with something between compassion and encouragement. “If you want to go, we can go.”
She bites her lip and shakes her head, because he’s so hopeful, because he’s probably right, and because logic has just caught up with her: a two hour drive from London can’t have put them anywhere near Norway. “Where are we?”
“West Wittering! Chichester! West Sussex!” the Doctor answers in a louder voice. “The perfect getaway from London, said the brochure. Brochures are good, Rose. Very informative. Lots of pictures.” She giggles, and he grins and pulls her in for a hug. “So, what do you say?”
She glances over his shoulder and can just see the ocean, all blues and greens and golds, partially obscured by a few tourist shops. “I’m hardly dressed for it,” she points out, gesturing to her jeans.
“A-ha!” He darts around her to throw open the back door of the car and pull out a beach bag full to bursting. “Swimsuits, towels, sunblock, camera! Everything we could possibly need!”
“And it’s not even bigger on the inside.” Her tongue is poking between her teeth as she loops her arm through his. “I’m impressed.”
“Well, I’m quite impressive.” He beams at her as she rolls her eyes. “Shall we, Dame Rose?”
“Allons-y, Sir Doctor.”
***
Three hours later a very burned Doctor is standing over a lightly tanned Rose Tyler, shaking his hair and sending salt water flying. “Oy!” she protests as he collapses face first onto the towel beside her.
“Are you now a master body surfer?” she asks, pushing her sunglasses atop her hair.
“I’m well on my way!” he replies, ignoring the note of sarcasm in her voice. “And you? A master at tanning-all-day-instead-of-swimming-even-though-the-water-is-lovely?”
She raises an eyebrow at him before lowering her sunglasses again. “More lovely when one isn’t tossed in head first, I bet.”
He coughs loudly. “Accident. I thought you said ‘just throw me in.’”
“I said ‘I’ll just wade in!’”
“Right. Well…sounds similar.” She hmmphs and he smiles innocently, resting his cheek in the sand. “Still, you have to admit. Much better this time around.”
She makes a happy humming noise and nudges his foot with her toes. “Much. Not a bad first adventure.”
Fifteen seconds later he jerks his head up, groans in frustration, jumps up and sprints back towards the shops, leaving a bewildered Rose to sit up and call after him, “where are you going?” He is too far away to hear her so she just stares after him, hands clasped around her knees. She knows he’s coming back, this time and every time after, she knows he is. She is still immensely relieved when he returns minutes later holding a small bowl in one hand. She scrambles to her feet and wraps her arms around him, and he kisses the top of her head and holds tight and doesn’t ask “what was that for?”
Instead he says “here we are,” and shows her the contents of the bowl: a small pile of chips, glistening with grease. “Now it’s a proper first.”
The significance dawns on her immediately and she smiles broadly and pops one of the chips into her mouth. “Our first adventure,” she says around a mouthful. “We had chips.” And then she stands on her toes and winds one hand into his wet hair and presses her lips to his, and he presses back as his fingers find her waist, and the chips only barely manage to escape a long fall to a sandy demise.
“Come on,” she murmurs when they part, “let’s go swimming.”
She takes off running toward the water and he calls after her halfheartedly, “You’re not supposed to go in swimming right after eating!”
“You know me,” she yells back, “always breaking the rules!”
As he watches her dive headlong into a wave that towers above her head, he makes a mental note to tell her at least a hundred times tonight that he loves her. Then he sets the bowl of chips down on her beach towel and runs in after her.