A Tea Thing (1/1)
Title- A Tea Thing
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 - A second attempt at tea with the infamous Annie.
Author’s Notes - Blimey, but it’s weird to post a story on a Monday and not have it be called “And So Things Go.” I think it’s going to take me a little while to get used to that, truth be told.
Two things of note before I get down to business: 1. This is one of only three ficlets I have written at this point. And, while I have a ton of ideas, I have no idea where to start. Which is why, as of this afternoon, I’ll be posting a new ficlet request thread. 2. I’m participating in NaNoWriMo this month, which means that I’ll most likely only be posting once a week for the month. Fair warning ;)
Now, onto the important stuff. Thank you to earlgreytea68 for her beta of this, and to both her and chicklet73 for their encouragement in writing this, months ago. Without either of them, it would be a very sad little piece of fiction, indeed.
A Tea Thing
Rose sighed, glancing at the unknown number on her caller ID. She’d been stuck behind her desk for two weeks now, recovering from a scratch she’d suffered at the hands of a Throvian; she was about to climb the walls, and was heartily sick of fielding calls from well-meaning former points of contact. It was only a scratch, and while Peter might have treated it as the end of the world, the simple fact was that it was no worse than some of the DIY-related injuries she’d seen her colleagues wander in with of a Monday.
“Tyler,” she barked into the phone, finally deciding to answer it on the fifth ring.
There was a pause. “Rose Tyler?” a polite female voice inquired, clearly unsure whether the correct number had been dialed.
“Yes, this is Rose Tyler,” she ground out, frustrated. It wasn’t a voice she recognized, and she really wasn’t in the mood to deal with someone trying to sell Torchwood the latest in office supplies. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m terribly sorry to bother you at work-I’m sure you’re busy…” Rose felt her focus sharpen as it became clear the speaker had a brogue. It wasn’t Ruby-she’d met Elias’s wife often enough at this point to know the timbre of the voice was wrong-but the only other Scotswoman she knew was… “This is Annie. Peter’s friend.”
Rose felt the blood drain from her face, and was suddenly very grateful to be sitting down.
“Hello,” she offered, weakly, in response.
“Is this a bad time?”
“No,” Rose replied, her hand gripping the corner of the desk as she desperately wished it was a bad time. Why was this woman, of all people, ringing her? Why hadn’t she lied and said it was a bad time? And how had she found the number? Unless Peter had given it to her…
Rose felt a flash of heat wash through her, the anger passing as quickly as it had appeared. If he was meddling-continuing on his quest to make Annie and Rose the best of friends-she really needed to have a chat with him.
“I-I’m terribly sorry. I...I ran down your phone number, and I know it’s terribly rude to call unasked. But…I thought…perhaps you might like to meet again. For tea.”
Rose drew her brows together, glancing down to the receiver of the phone. She’d thought, that horrible day, that she’d as soon face down Daleks as do tea again with Annie; the feeling hadn’t abated since.
Annie continued on, filling the silence on the line. “It occurred to me that…perhaps we really didn’t have a proper chance to talk, you and I. Peter…” Annie paused, clearly choosing her words delicately. “Peter, I think, might have been a bit too eager to encourage conversation between us.”
Rose felt a flash of annoyance pass through her as she recognized the truth of Annie’s words. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to be calm and rational. Annie had known Peter years longer than Rose had-of course she’d be able to recognize what Peter had been up to that day.
“I’m afraid I’d not be able to get out of London for a bit…” Rose offered. Bless geography, she thought briefly.
“Oh, heavens-I’d never presume to drag you all the way up here, simply so we could make up for that day! I’m going to be in London in a day or so.”
Damn and blast. She didn’t want to go-not at all. But she felt an obligation to give Annie another chance; if she didn’t, Peter would never forgive her.
“Oh, that…would be lovely. I can check with Peter…”
“Gracious, no! He’ll just monopolise the conversation again. I’d like it to just be the two of us, Rose.”
Rose swallowed. “Ah.” She hated the feeling of wrong-footedness that seemed to flood her when Annie was around.
“Would it be terribly presumptuous to say I’ve booked us tea at Brown’s, for four o’clock Thursday?”
Rose grabbed at her diary, flipping to find the correct week, holding out a final hope that there would be a meeting of some sort. Perhaps it was time to check in with Doctor Smith, to see how things were going almost a year after McGreevy had wreaked havoc?
Her Thursday was disappointingly clear. “That would be…lovely,” she replied lamely. She picked up a pen, and dejectedly inked in the appointment.
“Thank you, Rose. I’m looking forward to it.” Annie’s voice was warm and full of sympathy as she rang off, and Rose fought down the urge to throw her phone down. She hated feeling so inferior; hated that Annie had that kind of power over her.
James walked in as she set the receiver into the cradle with exaggerated gentleness and, noting the expression on her face, closed the door before coming to sit in the chair on the other side of her desk. “Everything alright?”
“No.” Rose heard the defeat in her tone, and glanced up at James, alarmed. “I mean…yeah. World’s not gonna end or anything.”
James leaned back, kicking his feet up onto her desk. “You want to talk about it?” His expression was neutral, and the thought of telling someone about Annie was too tempting to pass by.
She told James of Peter’s ex-girlfriend, the woman who’d been his touchstone and guide for so long; who could do no wrong in Peter’s eyes. She glared at her desk as she told him of the lunch she, Peter, and Annie had had before Twelfth Night, and how she still felt as though Peter couldn’t quite understand why Rose had reacted as she did to Annie.
“You’ve not talked about her at all since then, Rose?” James asked, as Rose finished telling the tale.
“No. He doesn’t see it, and he won’t, so why bother bringing it up over and over again? We’ll only fight about it.” Her voice was, as Jack would have said, ‘glum’.
She really missed Jack, sometimes. She was sure he’d have come up with some completely inappropriate story, only tangentially relating to the matter at hand, to get her past this particular hurdle. James was a similar soul, but she was fairly sure he’d not be sharing tales of visiting a sex club on Yiiiiiiii’t in the thirty-fifth century, all in a bid to make her laugh, or blush, or both.
“Rose?”
She glanced up to see James had dropped his feet to the floor, and was leaning forward. “’m alright. Just remembering someone, ‘s all.”
“You know what I’m going to tell you, right? That you really do need to talk with Peter?”
“He doesn’t understand, though!”
James sighed, leaning back again. “Are you going to tell him about tea?”
Rose shoved at a piece of paper on her desk, avoiding James’s eyes again. “No. He’ll just keep on and on about how he knows we’ll get along brilliantly, and I’d be surprised if he didn’t want to join us. And Annie was very emphatic on the point that Peter not come along.”
“Do you want us there?”
Rose glanced up at him, unable to fight down the wry smile. “Why, so you can leap to my defense when I go back to feeling utterly inadequate?”
“We could vanquish her with our banter,” he offered, giving a small smile in return.
“Nah-I’m not sure that even Annie deserves that.”
“Rose-you’ll be fine. I promise. And if you’re not, you can come beat me up, gimpy arm and all.” James was leaning forward again, his arms resting on his knees.
“I’ll survive-been through worse, after all. Just…need to suck it up, I guess.”
“Suck it up?”
“I need to deal with it and move on, James-nothing pervy.” She leaned back in her chair, holding James’ gaze. “I’ll be alright-and I’m not just sayin’ that. I feel better for having talked about it, really.”
James gave her a smile. “Then I’m happy to have helped.”
~ - ~
Annie, it seemed, had not called Peter to let him know she was going to be in town; he made no mention of his friend that night over supper, nor at any point the next day. He did notice, however, that Rose dressed with care on Thursday morning, and mentioned it as he moved to the wardrobe to get dressed himself following his shower.
“Meeting today?” He glanced over her outfit.
Rose blinked, confused. “No, why?”
“You’re all dressed up,” he stated, matter-of-factly. “You look lovely.”
Rose blushed. “Thank you.” She moved to stand behind him, her arms resting around the cool, bare skin of his waist as he stood in front of the wardrobe. His cup of coffee sat on the shelf, as it always did when he was getting dressed for work, and she reveled in the normalness of their morning routine.
She pressed her cheek against his back, and took an appreciative breath, savouring the feel of muscle moving under her cheek as he reached forward for a shirt. He paused for a moment, before stating, “Rose-I need to get dressed.”
Rose released him, stepping back; he tossed his shirt onto the bed before turning to fully face her. His hand came up to cradle her jaw, and she had a hard time holding his searching gaze. “Is everything alright?” His thumbs stroked across her cheeks, and she let her eyes drift shut with a sigh.
“Yeah. Just…need a break, I think.”
He brushed a kiss across her forehead before stepping back and releasing her. “We could go away this weekend…”
She sighed, turning to finish getting ready. “That’d be nice.”
“I’m sorry Croy isn’t closer,” he replied, his voice soft.
Rose turned to him, surprised. “’s not your fault.” She stepped toward where he was now holding a vest, preparing to tug it over his head. “I’m sorry, Peter-‘m just tired. I don’t mean to take it out on you.” She waited for him to pull the white cotton on, before leaning up to kiss his jaw. “I’ll be in a better mood tonight, I promise.”
He leaned down, giving her a tender kiss, before stepping back. “Alright. But…we should still go away this weekend. Just the two of us, hiding somewhere. Maybe near the sea.”
She smiled. “’d like that.”
The morning dragged, minutes feeling like hours as the dreaded tea approached. She kept stealing glances outside, hoping the lowering skies would unleash an ice storm, or even snow; instead, the grey clouds ignored the city as they scudded overhead, saving their wintry gifts for other parts of the country. Lunch wasn’t even an option, the thought of food making her stomach tense even more, and she settled for staring morosely at her computer screen-having pled off with work--whilst her team went out for their usual meal together.
James knocked tentatively on her door just past one, bearing an apple and a bottle of water. “You need to eat something, Rose-passing out over tea will only give Annie the upper hand.” He set the items on her desk with a wink, and closed the door quietly behind him.
She’d eaten the fruit, and drunk most of the water, by the time the clock read 1530. Time to go; she glanced out the window one last time, making sure it wasn’t precipitating in some way, before locking her computer, grabbing her purse and her coat, and heading for the door.
“I’m out for the rest of the day-have an appointment,” she breezed as she walked past the area where her team sat; Mickey and Jake nodded, but James looked up and gave her a wink before returning his attention to the footie debate the boys were having.
Her nervousness grew as she reached the undercroft, slowly coiling tighter and tighter as she met the car which had been called. She sat in the back of the sedan, trying not to worry, unable to do anything but consider just how disastrously bad things were sure to go. By the time the car turned onto the narrow cobbled lane which housed the tea house, she was practically sweating, and was sorely tempted to shrug off her heavy winter coat.
She thanked the driver, hurrying out of the car and up the few steps to the front door. It was starting to snow as she pushed the heavily painted wood inwards, and took a deep breath.
Annie was already waiting for her.
~ - ~
They were shown to their table as soon as Rose had handed her coat over to the attendant, and it appeared they had the snug room to themselves. There was a fire dancing merrily in the fireplace, offering a touch too much warmth, and Rose shed her suit jacket before settling into her cosy chair. Annie had, as she’d expected, dressed impeccably; nothing was ostentatious, but everything spoke of wealth.
Rose fought back a sigh, stealing a glance down at her own outfit. She’d chosen a black suit, a finely tailored jacket above the flattering tulip skirt, the crème silk shirt complimenting her colouring. It wasn’t the casually put-together look she’d expected Annie to have, but she hadn’t thought it half-bad that morning in the flat.
Now, though…now, she wasn’t so sure.
An uncomfortable silence settled around them as they perused the menu, and Rose had the oddest feeling that Annie might have been as uncomfortable as she. Which was silly-Annie had nothing to be nervous about.
Rose still held onto that feeling, and used it to steel herself to make conversation. “Did you have a good journey south?” She set the menu down, shifting her attention to the woman across from her.
Annie raised her eyes to Rose’s, surprised. She took one last glance at the menu, before folding it closed and setting it in front of her. “It was long-it never seems to get shorter. But at least the weather held.”
The waiter came to take their orders-Rose was surprised to find that she and Annie had selected the same tea, and had similar taste in sandwiches-before discreetly leaving them alone again.
“D’you come down here often, then?”
“Oh heavens, no. I can’t take the trip more than once or twice a year. I’m not a fan of zeppelins-never have been. Used to have nightmares about them.” Annie shuddered, laying her hands on the table. “The train’s my favourite way to go, even if it isn’t terribly reliable. Robert thinks I’m mad.”
“Your…husband?”
Annie smiled. “My husband. He’s still up at the house, working like mad.”
Rose thought for a moment, trying to remember what it was Annie’s husband did. She didn’t think Peter had ever told her. “I’m sorry-what does he do?”
Annie laughed. “Peter didn’t mention it, then? I’m not surprised-he and Robert have a civil truce, but nothing more. He’s a businessman-responsible for overseeing much of the off-shore drilling operations in the North Sea.”
“So he’s in oil?”
“Not just oil, no, but that’s a large part of it.”
The waiter reappeared, bearing their teapots and a small tray of sandwiches. After some minor rearranging of place settings and flowers, the items were left on the table and the waiter once again melted away.
Annie gave Rose a briefly searching glance, before venturing, “I think your father has worked with him, you know.”
“With your husband?”
“Yes. On a project to explore a more efficient way to utilize methane.”
Rose paused, arrested; she knew exactly what Annie was talking about, as the technology Pete had shared had been originated by Torchwood. “You mean the converter?”
Annie looked surprised. “You know about it?”
“Yeah-my section worked on it, a bit. Had to learn a bit on the fly to be able to keep up.”
“Peter says you’re exceptionally clever.”
Rose blushed. “He says the same about you,” she murmured, her attention now focused on pouring out her tea.
Annie laughed. “Not the most original of compliments, then-you should have a word with him about that.”
“Hmm. One of these days, maybe.”
“Timing is everything,” Annie said with a note of humour. “But I know he did mean it, most sincerely, when he was talking about you.”
Rose demurred, embarrassed. “Well, I, er, didn’t tell him. About tea.” Rose glanced up from where she was stirring milk and sugar into her tea.
Annie nodded once, her attention focused on her own cuppa. Rose selected an egg and cress sandwich while she waited for Annie, and took a dainty nibble from the corner.
She was ravenous.
“I’m almost loathe to bring up anything from that disaster of a lunch we had-and please, don’t think that’s an accusatory statement. I think I’d have done things a bit differently at lunch, that day.” Annie took a sip of tea, pausing to watch Rose’s reaction before tentatively asking, “ But I’m curious. Did you have the freedom to study anything you wanted? With your tutors?”
Rose hastily popped the last bite of sandwich into her mouth, washing it down with a sip of tea while she worked on her response. Peter swore Annie didn’t know about her past; that she had only asked the question about Rose’s schooling because she was looking for common ground. And, as Peter had pointed out, it was hardly the first time she’d been asked a question about a past that didn’t exist.
She needed to give Annie the benefit of the doubt.
“I had to learn some basics, of course-maths and grammar and science. But…if it interested me, after a while, I had the chance to study it further.” Strictly speaking, it was true: whenever she’d expressed an interesting in something, the Doctor had been more than happy to take her somewhere or somewhen that would let her further explore that particular thing. She’d been to ancient Egypt; had seen the development of the moveable-type printing press; had watched Caesar cross the Rubicon.
“What were your favourites?” Annie nibbled at a cucumber sandwich, her attention fully on Rose, her body language expressing nothing but curiosity.
“History. Definitely history. And art.” The Doctor had taken her to meet Michelangelo after her adventure in Rome, and she still found comfort in studying the Master’s works, remembering what the man had been like.
“Not science?”
Rose laughed. “No, not science. Funny, that, since I work at a place that does all sorts of science-y things. I suppose one of these days, I’ll be expected to learn how to run the company, instead of fielding paperwork…hopefully, science won’t be something I’ll really need.” She reached for another sandwich, taking a bite as she watched Annie.
“D’you wish you worked somewhere else?” Again, the question seemed motivated by genuine curiosity. Annie, Rose noticed, seemed to be relaxing.
Rose didn’t even have to think. “No. I can’t imagine working anywhere else, really. I love my coworkers. Love the division, even if it drives me spare. And I love that my dad treats me like anyone else; I don’t know I’d get that, anywhere else.”
They sat companionably for a few moments, each nibbling sandwiches or drinking tea, before Annie asked another question. “How did you meet Peter?”
Rose blushed. “I was up in Kendal, workin’ for my dad, just kind of servin’ as eyes and ears while North Lakes tried to find out why one of the guys from Torchwood went missin’.”
“And Peter was the Detective in charge.”
Rose gave Annie a small smile. “Yeah. Right bastard, too.”
Annie chuckled. “I can see that.”
Rose turned her teacup, gazing into the caramel depths of the hot liquid, before raising her eyes back to Annie’s. “How’d you and Peter meet? I mean, I know you met in Uni, and you were his saviour, an’ all that. But he’s never said how you actually met.”
It was Annie’s turn to blush. “I wasn’t his saviour-he needs to stop banging that drum, and learn that he saved himself.” Annie’s gaze sharpened, and she shrewdly added, “I’d imagine that’s not been the easiest thing to hear, either.”
Rose held Annie’s gaze as she replied, “You helped to make him who he is. And I’m grateful for that.”
Annie nodded, a small smile curving her lips, and returned to Rose’s original question. “We met-the first time-at a small house party early in one of the terms. Even then, he was…compelling.” Rose nodded-Peter had charisma, even if he didn’t realize it. “He was as tall as he is now, but thinner-if you can imagine. And he had the worst blonde hair I’d ever seen.”
“Blonde?”
“Oh yes. As yellow as could be-and long. It was a right horror. He was still a charmer, though, in that awkward teenager way; I was seeing someone else, though, and we went our separate ways.”
Annie paused while their teapots were refreshed, and the sandwiches were switched out for scones and sweets. Rose picked up a scone, dabbing a bit of cream and jam onto her plate as she waited for Annie to continue.
“We met again about a year later-again at a house party. I suppose it was the same house, really-an annual beginning of autumn-term thing-but Peter had changed a bit. His hair was shorter than you could imagine-he’d hacked it off to be rid of the blonde. And…there was a gravity to him that hadn’t been there before. He was utterly irresistible, and I was single. And that was that.”
Annie turned her attention to her plate, daintily preparing a petit four for eating.
“How…how was he?” Rose was hesitant, unsure of how to ask the question. ‘Was he broken’ seemed far too harsh; ‘was he a cynic, even then?’ was far too flippant.
“You’re asking how things were with Martin?”
Rose realized that, at its core, that was essentially what she had been asking. “Yeah.”
Annie sighed, leaning back in her chair. “He…he was still working through it, I think. He was such an optimist, back then. Not that he isn’t now-he’s just learned to hide it better. Back then…he was convinced, every time, that Martin was going to come around and be the ideal elder brother. It was heartbreaking to watch.”
Rose felt tears prick at her eyes. Poor Peter.
“It wasn’t all bad, you know-he was learning that it was alright to be clever and smart, too. He took that intellect, and refined it into the man you see today.”
“It must have been quite something to see that develop,” Rose said wistfully.
“I was very, very lucky,” Annie agreed. She paused, pouring out more tea, before turning her shrewd glance to Rose again. “But he’s still changing, even now. He’s…he’s lighter than he used to be. Happier. He’s very lucky to have you, Rose. And he’s utterly mad for you.”
Rose ducked her chin, her cheeks flaming. “He’s a wonderful man.”
“He told me he’s taken you to the cottage.”
Rose laughed. “He told me the same thing about you.”
“Welcome to the club, then. I think we’re the only two to have seen it.” Annie grinned. “It’s been a long while since I was there-years upon years. Is it still stone cold?”
“Miserably.” Rose wondered just how long it had been since Annie’d been to the cottage. Maybe it was after Peter’s divorce…
“Perhaps he’ll finally bend and add heat.”
They both laughed at the thought.
Rose’s mobile trilled, and she fumbled for her purse, not wanting to interrupt any of the diners in the adjoining room. “’m sorry, Annie-it’s Peter. I’ll just be a tick.”
Annie nodded, and Rose flipped the phone open. “H’lo.”
“Hello, you.” Peter voice was warm down the line, and she felt a flush steal through her body. “How’s your day been?”
“Long. But not bad. How about yours?”
“Cold. Very cold.” Rose heard Elias’s voice in the background, shouting something or other, and Peter laughed. “Elias claims my blood is too thin.”
“He’s one to talk,” she replied with a grin.
“I…I’ll be done early. Would you…I thought supper might be nice tonight. A proper supper, out.”
“That’d be lovely, Peter.”
“Would you be up for…six?”
Rose glanced at her watch-it was just going five. “I think I can manage that. Where?”
“Meet me here.” ‘Here’, for Peter, meant his office at Scotland Yard. Unlike the London she’d grown up in, this Scotland Yard was still housed in the original buildings in Scotland Yard proper, off of Whitehall.
“I’ll be there.”
“Love you.”
“Love you,” she said, blushing. She closed the phone, and returned her attention to Annie. “’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I take it you have a date?”
“Dinner. No idea how I’m going to eat it, though, after this.” Rose gestured to the pots of tea and tray of sweets with a rueful grin.
“The dangers of a good tea,” Annie said with a warm smile. “They ruin you for a proper meal!”
The last half-hour with Annie passed quickly, both of the women relaxing slightly more in each other’s company. Annie had the ability to tell a story well-a skill that reminded Rose of Peter, and she wondered if he’d learned from the woman across from her, or if it had been the other way around-and she found herself laughing gaily at a tale of a younger Peter, trying desperately to be suave one early date with Annie, and falling into a fountain in the town square instead. It only occurred to her afterwards, as she wiped her eyes, that she didn’t feel an ounce of jealousy.
They fought over the cheque, Annie finally winning by reminding Rose of who had paid during tea in Carlisle. They were brought their coats, and stood together in the small foyer several minutes later, each preparing to depart for their various appointments.
“Thank you, Rose,” Annie said, extending her hand.
Rose impulsively leaned forward, embracing a surprised Annie in a hug. “Thank you. It’s been a true pleasure.”
They parted ways in the street-and this time, when Annie suggested they do it again sometime soon, Rose meant it when she said “That’d be lovely.”
~ - ~
fin
Author's Endnote: The next Peter Rose fic to go up will be by wildwinterwitch--so keep an eye out at the_rspcpc