And So Things Go, Chapter 27
Title- And So Things Go (27/34)
Author- jlrpuck
Rating - T
Pairing - Peter Carlisle/Rose Tyler
Disclaimer - Characters from Blackpool and Doctor Who are the property of the BBC, and are used with the greatest of love and respect; no profit is intended from the writing or sharing of this story.
Summary - The story of how Peter Carlisle moved to London to live with Rose Tyler.
Author’s Notes - Rose and Peter spend the morning together.
This is a short chapter-the shortest out of the entire story, I think-and it’s really more of a brief intermission before the third act gets going than anything else. The rest of the chapters will be longer, I promise J (also, here’s your semi-weekly reminder that I will be taking a week long break in-between Chapters 30 and 31 *g*).
earlgreytea68 and chicklet73 have been ideal betas for this-supportive, diligent, and full of excellent ideas. lostwolfchats has been fabulous, as well, and equally as invaluable, ensuring that I didn’t ruin the Queen’s English…too badly. Any errors-grammatical, colloquial, or factual-are mine, and mine alone. And, on an artistic front-thank you to angelfireeast for the lovely banner at the top of the chapter.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 | Chapter 29 | Chapter 30 | Chapter 31 | Chapter 32 | Chapter 33 | Epilogue
Peter was hogging the bed, again. And-again-he had the entirety of the duvet pulled across his body, with the bulk of the warm object actually hanging over the side of the bed to his left.
Perhaps I need to speak with him about changing sides of the bed, Rose thought as she shivered awake. It was ridiculous-Peter was always like a furnace, his lithe body radiating heat. His consistent need to hoard the duvet defied logic.
She rolled onto her side, reaching for a corner of the duvet, determined to tug it to her so she could go back to sleep-all of this ideally without waking Peter up through a purely-accidental-yet-vicious tug to the cornflower blue of the duvet cover. She really needed to learn to keep a spare blanket along her side of the bed.
Peter remained oblivious to Rose’s struggle; as she lay under her newly-claimed quarter of the duvet, warming up, she fought back the urge to poke him awake, just so she could point out how he’d once again stolen the duvet, despite his repeated promises to work on that particular habit.
It was hard to remain too angry with him, though-the egregious duvet theft only bothered her on mornings after they’d fallen asleep naked. And, given that they only fell asleep naked after making love...
She lay on her side, her hands now tucked under her cheek, staring at Peter as he continued to sleep. His jaw was slack-a nice change from the tension that had appeared of late-and his entire body was relaxed, his chest rising and falling rhythmically as he slept. He hogged the duvet something fierce, but he never seemed to pull it above his hips, and she was able to allow her eyes to drift from a study of his face, down his neck, across his chest to his stomach.
He really was almost ridiculously handsome-especially when he was so unguarded. And he remained completely, utterly unaware of just how attractive he was-a trait which both amused and frustrated her to no end. He simply couldn’t seem to break the habit of undervaluing himself.
The Met had offered him a job. Elias, and the Chief of Detectives, and whomever else, had seen the value of Peter, and wanted him to join them.
Her heart skipped thinking about it, giddiness filling her as she thought about others realizing the value of the man she loved. He deserved to be happy, not just personally but professionally; this might finally be his chance, at least on the professional side.
Peter snuffled, and Rose returned her attention to his face. His nose wrinkled, his lips pursed; Rose reached forward, delicately stroking his cheek. He relaxed, and turned his head into her touch.
Peter might move to London. This could, in a month or two or three, be a normal morning.
If he could fix the duvet habit, it would be perfect.
She continued to brush her fingers along his jaw, the stubble rasping lightly across her skin; she gently traced her finger over the scar, her lips quirking as she remembered Peter telling her the story of how he’d gotten it. She felt her eyes drift shut, and as she dozed off her hand gently cupped Peter’s cheek.
~ - ~
The bright sunlight filling Rose’s room finally pulled Peter from his dreams-not that he minded, given that he’d been dreaming, once again, of the man Rose called The Doctor. At least this time Rose hadn’t been walking away from him; in fact, she’d not been there at all.
He opened his eyes a crack, allowing them to adjust to the light before fully opening them completely. Rose was curled on her side, facing him, and as he became more aware he realized her hand was resting against his shoulder. He moved, reaching up, taking her hand in his and brushing it across his lips.
She continued to sleep.
She loved him, in spite of his failings, in spite of what he’d done; he still couldn’t believe it, not even when she was slumbering peacefully next to him, glimpses of her bare skin peeping out from under the corner of her duvet. He reached behind himself, guiltily, trying to pull some more duvet across his body to cover hers-he knew she was always cold when she slept, especially when she slept in the nude. He released her hand, stretching as stealthily as he could to cover her in more of the duvet.
Rose Tyler loved him, as much as he loved her. He tried not to think about it too much; if he did, his self-doubt invariably came to the fore, the little voice in his head--telling him that he wasn’t worthy of her, that she’d leave him one day when she realized that she was sleeping with a DI and not her Doctor--rising to a level he had a hard time drowning out. He didn’t want to lose her, not even for a moment.
He’d known, deep down, that he would put in for the job almost immediately after Elias had made the offer. Kendal had lost any charm it might still have had: his name was too tarnished with past offences to ever ensure he’d have a clean slate, and he wasn’t challenged enough in his job. London promised, if nothing else, to be a new adventure, to be a chance to see if he was really as good as Elias-and Rose-claimed he was or could be.
And he’d be with Rose, would call the flat he was currently in “home.” He’d wake up every morning to find Rose next to him, would have supper with her every night.
He brushed his thumb across her cheek, turning his hand so his knuckles drifted down to her jaw. He’d have to do something with his books, have to figure out what on earth to do with the house in Kendal-assuming Elias and the Met were as good as their promise. Now he’d decided he wanted the job, he realized he wanted it immediately; wanted to move to London now, didn’t want to have to deal with Williams or any of his cronies for another minute. He’d miss Louise, he’d even miss Penington...but he was ready to move on.
Rose murmured, and he scooted closer to her. He cupped her cheek, leaning in to kiss her; she sighed, and he brushed a kiss over the corner of her mouth.
She was blinking awake when he pulled back, and he gave her a smile. “Morning,” he whispered.
“Mornin’,” she replied, her voice rough. His hand was still cradling her jaw, and she nuzzled his palm.
“How’d you sleep?” He tried to keep his voice soft.
“Mmmkay. You?” Her eyes were heavy with sleep as they met his, and he felt a brief pang of guilt for having awoken her.
“Fine,” he lied.
She closed the distance between them, curling her body against his, tucking her head under his jaw. “Mmmcold.”
He slid an arm under her, wrapping his arms around her. “You’re always cold,” he said teasingly, rubbing his hands across her back.
“You always steal the duvet,” she complained against his chest.
“I love waking up with you,” he blurted. He winced-he’d not intended to say something quite that needy.
“Still doesn’t get you out of trouble for stealing the duvet,” she replied. He could feel her smile against his chest.
“I was being sincere,” he said, brushing a kiss over her hair.
“So was I.” She tilted her head back, meeting his eye. “And I love waking up with you, too.” She grinned.
“That’s good-if this works out, you’ll have to do it every day.”
“I hope I do.” She slid a hand upwards, her fingers playing with the hair at his temple.
“It might become dull and monotonous.”
“I hardly think that’s possible, where you’re concerned.”
He laughed. “Rose, my idea of a good time is staying in and reading a book.”
“But so long as you’re reading to me, I think we’ll be fine.”
“Even history?”
“Wellll....” She gave him a teasing grin. “We might have to discuss that.”
He pulled her back into a hug, rolling onto his back and cradling her against his chest. “Happily.”
Rose sighed against him. “’m hungry.”
He turned his head, glancing at the clock on the bedside table. How had it got to be so late? He’d have barely any time with her before he had to return to Kendal. “Small wonder-it’s well past ten.”
Rose popped up, peering across him to the clock. “How’d we sleep so late?”
“We had a late night. You might remember-you kept me awake.”
“Poor Peter,” she braced her weight on her left arm, bringing her right arm to ruffle his hair.
“I’m so maligned.”
“You are.” She rolled over, kicking the duvet away and standing. He watched appreciatively as she stretched, her skin luminous in the morning light; she then padded across to the wardrobe for her robe. She pulled it on, turning as she tied the belt and catching him staring openly at her.
She blushed, and he grinned. She rallied, raising her chin and meeting his eye. “Can I help you, Inspector?”
He threw the duvet back, standing, and slowly walked across the small room to join her. He didn’t miss how her eyes were riveted to him, her gaze focusing somewhere mid-chest; he loved how seeing him naked affected her still. “Yes, Rose.” He pitched his voice low as he came to stand in front of her.
“How’s that?”
He leaned forward, planting a quick kiss on her lips. “Coffee.”
She blinked, confused, and he took the opportunity to scurry away from her before she could swat at him. “Tease!”
He laughed as she came after him, surprising her as he suddenly came to a stop and moved towards her. He captured her in his arms, brushing kisses across her jaw, causing her to giggle as though she was being tickled. “I never tease about coffee,” he whispered finally, stepping back.
She caught her breath as he stepped back, turning to look for where he’d hidden his pyjamas the day before. “No coffee if you get dressed, Peter.”
“Are you blackmailing me into staying delightfully naked?”
She gave him a feral grin. “Yes.”
“Deal.” He grabbed her hand, leading her down the hallway. “Let’s go scandalise your neighbours.”
~ - ~
Chapter 28