fic: sweet dreams

Apr 19, 2010 17:40

Author: nocookiesjustbooks 2nd2ndalto
Character/Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Rose
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: BBC owns everything, obviously
Summary: Set after the Satan Pit. Cuddling, banter, some kissing and general fluffiness.
Author's Notes: Standalone. Also fits nicely between Shaken and Reprieve (Rest for the Wicked) if you like.

Thanks to iluvmusicals for beta help.



Rose wakes slowly the next morning, gradually sighing her way into consciousness. She wonders idly when this bed became so very comfortable, then she registers arms wrapped around her, weight of a warm body against hers. They must have shifted during the night, and have somehow wound up clinging to one another, her head nestled under his chin, face pressed into his chest. The Doctor's slightly cooler body temperature makes Rose feels pleasantly cocooned instead of nearly suffocated, and she can't help but smile as she inhales deeply, breathes him in and snuggles a bit closer.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he murmurs against her hair.

They've never woken together before, certainly never woken like this, and Rose wonders if it's strange that it feels so natural, feels as if this should always be the way she regains consciousness.

The Doctor pulls back to look at her, and Rose can't quite hold back a sleepy whine of protest.

He grins. "Sleep okay?"

"Yeah, I did," she says, surprised. She rubs her eyes and stretches.

"I've never heard anyone sleep so quietly," he teases, watching her. "I had to check a few times to make sure you hadn't stopped breathing."

Rose's laugh is stifled by a yawn. "Yeah, Mum used to tell me that, too."

The Doctor hesitates a moment, looking a bit awkward, then stretches and sits up. Rose feels a pang of loss as he swings his long legs over the edge of the bed and reaches for his trainers. She sighs and pulls herself into a sitting position, arms wrapped around her knees.

"So, what's on the agenda today?" she asks.

He stills a moment, one arm in his jacket, then turns to look at her cautiously. "Well, that depends."

"On what?" Rose asks, bemused.

He studies her face. "Well, you, I suppose."

Oh. The thrill of waking with him had somewhat driven away the reason he'd been in her bed in the first place. Krop Tor comes back like a weight in her chest. She shakes her head, trying to shift it.

"No, don't - m'fine now, really. Just a rough day, yeah?"

"All right, then," he says hesitantly.

As if to prove her point, Rose throws off the covers and eases her legs over the side of the bed.

"Back on the horse, right Doctor? I'm fine. I'm fantastic." She tries to sound convincing.

His face softens. "Yes, you are," he says fondly.

Rose blushes and looks away.

"Anyway," he deflects, "Coleopteropolis." He stretches out the syllables. "You'll love it. Gorgeous weather, lovely scenery. Beautiful vistas. They're vistastic. Vistarrific, even." He smiles widely. "Meet me in the console room when you're ready."

He makes such a lovely picture, framed in her doorway, beaming in anticipation of their next adventure. His hair is mussed and his suit is wrinkled, and Rose wants nothing more than to reel him in by his tie and encourage him to do all manner of things to her that would make his hair wilder still.

Instead she nods and hauls herself to her feet. She can't help the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

The Doctor makes to bound off again, then turns back. He regards her for a second, measuring, then swiftly crosses the room to her and kisses her sweetly, both hands cradling her face. Rose lets out a small gasp. He pulls away far too soon and, grinning widely at her gobsmacked expression, springs off down the corridor.

...................

Hours later, Rose has nearly recovered from their latest adventure. She's fairly sure the Doctor had meant for this planet to be a pleasant bit of respite after Krop Tor, but of course it hadn't been.

Coleopteropolis had been populated by a race of very intelligent beetle-like creatures. This had made Rose's skin crawl a bit, but the warm, sunny weather had more than made up for it.

Then, of course it turned out that the giant land-dwelling beetle creatures were involved in some sort of turf war with the giant tree-dwelling beetle creatures. It had been a bit of work to convince the tree beetles that Rose and the Doctor weren't prey, and then a bit of clever mediation to help the two groups of creatures come to a truce with each other.

Overall, it had been quite a successful day, apart from when Rose had gotten in the way of one of the beetles' defense mechanisms and had wound up covered head to toe in sticky, foul-smelling goo. She'd had a bit of an allergic reaction, necessitating a quick trip to the TARDIS' infirmary, but mostly it had been a mess to clean up.

Now, freshly scrubbed and smelling much better, Rose is curled up in the library in pyjamas and a dressing gown. She's got one fairly respectable book, one of questionable quality and some very trashy magazines. There's a fuzzy blanket, a comfy sofa and a crackling fire in the grate. It's quite cozy.

The library has obligingly moved itself nearer the front of the TARDIS, and the crackling of the fire is punctuated by the occasional sound of sparking from the console and resultant cursing from the Doctor. In between the minor explosions, Rose can hear him singing along to the Coleopteropolis radio station he's managed to tune in. The music mainly sounds like giant beetles rubbing their legs together, but the Doctor seems to be managing. Rose isn't sure if the TARDIS is unable to translate the scratching sounds or if this is merely for her amusement.

After Krop Tor, Rose is still feeling a little reluctant to be on her own, but she hadn't wanted the Doctor to think she was hovering. This is a nice compromise. It reminds her of being a little girl, lying in her bed gazing up at a pink ceiling illuminated by a nightlight while listening to the comforting sound of her mum watching telly in the next room. Rose stretches her legs out and stares into the fire, considers spending the night here. It seems friendlier than her dark bedroom, tonight.

"Rooose!" The Doctor's voice drifts into the library raised over the beetle-song. "Come and see this!" Rose is reluctant to leave her cozy nest, but the enthusiasm in his voice is hard to resist. She throws off her blanket and slides her feet back into fuzzy slippers, pads her way into the console room. The Doctor is grinning from ear to ear, looking overjoyed and slightly singed. Rose knows from past experience that his eyebrows grow back much faster than a human's would.

"Look at this, Rose, look at it!"

Rose stares blankly at the unidentifiable piece of TARDIS he's brandishing about so proudly.

"The gravitational trajectometer!" he exclaims "You remember - we replaced it in Dioxall 9? Bought it from that bloke with two hats? Well, the antistabilization matrix was causing a short in the triangulation strut, and - " he breaks off. "You don't have a clue what I'm on about, do you?"

Rose laughs. "Not really, no."

"Well," he continues, enthusiasm undiminished, "in summary, I fixed it. I'm very clever. Brilliant, actually."

He looks as pleased as a child on Christmas morning, and Rose can't help but smile fondly. "You are. Very clever. It looks... very gravitational."

The Doctor crouches to fit the bit of TARDIS in question back under the console. "And what are you up to, quiet-as-a-church-mouse-in-the-library? Welll, library mouse in the library, I should say. No church on the TARDIS. Can't abide by those hard benches. Though I could do with some of those little crackers."

"Just... reading," Rose surreptitiously hides the book she's holding behind her back. It's the questionable one, unfortunately, not the respectable one she'd brought to switch it for in case he'd asked to see it. Too late.

"Oh, Rose," his face falls as he reaches for the offending book. "Rose, the TARDIS has an entire section devoted to vampire literature, some of it even written by actual vampires - why are you reading this again?"

Rose blushes. "Give it back - it's good. I don't say anything when you watch that Muppet Movie."

"Rose." The Doctor's face becomes deadly serious as he hands back the book. "It's not That Muppet Movie, it's The Muppet Movie, and I'll have you know it was critically acclaimed in several planetary systems."

Rose laughs and rolls her eyes. She turns to leave the room.

"Are you going back, then - to the library?" He looks disappointed.

"Yeah - got a fire going in there and everything." She says temptingly. Maybe he'd like some company, too.

"I could come join you? I could read to you?" he asks shyly.

Rose smiles. It's been a while since they've done that.

"Yeah, that'd be nice."

The Doctor brightens immediately. "Just let me get cleaned up," he waves his hand at one singed cuff, "make sure I'm not still smouldering anywhere..." he trails off. Rose can't help but laugh at that one, especially when his ears go pink.

"I'll meet you in there."

...................

Much later, head resting comfortably on his shoulder, Rose is being lulled by the sound of the Doctor's voice. She's very nearly asleep, and the second time her head bobs forward, the Doctor gently closes the book. "Time for bed," he announces.

Rose shakes her head. "No, m'not tired."

"I beg to differ." He replies, quirking an eyebrow at her.

"No, m'fine." Rose sits up and stretches. "You go back to whatever you were fixing. I think I'm just gonna read a bit more... " she looks around for her book. The Doctor had insisted on reading to her from something he deemed to have more literary merit.

The Doctor frowns. "Rose, you can barely keep your eyes open - why don't you want to go to bed?"

"Look, I just..." she glances at his face. "I don't want you to think - "

"Don't want me to think what?"

Rose sighs. "I don't want you to think I'm cracking up, or... that I can't handle this... It's just that I... don't really want to be on my own. In my room, that is. I thought I'd just sleep out here. Feels less... alone, or something. I'm fine, though," she finishes, embarrassed. She'd hoped to avoid this conversation.

The Doctor is silent for a moment. "There's not much room on this couch for both of us," he muses eventually.

"What, you mean you'd - " Rose begins tentatively. She bites her lip.

"Well, If you want..." He's abruptly more interested in the book he's holding than in meeting her eye.

"What do you want?" Rose asks. She can feel a blush creeping into her cheeks.

"I'd like to stay with you. I mean... if you want me. To. If you want me to." He shoots a furtive glance at her.

"That'd be... nice." Rose smiles shyly.

"Really?" He grins back.

"Yeah."

This time, they walk back to her room hand in hand. Rose thinks she can feel a routine being established, hopes she can. When she emerges from her bathroom in pyjamas, the Doctor's already in her bed, and Rose can't help the silly smile that spreads across her face. He looks fairly pleased too, truth be told. The Doctor budges up and Rose tucks them both in. He reaches for her, and she snuggles against him and it strikes her again, how this seems as natural as breathing.

The Doctor lifts his head to press a kiss to Rose's forehead, and because she can, because it's allowed now, Rose lifts her head to catch his lips. The Doctor stills for a moment, but then she can feel him relax against her, his hand coming up to cup her cheek as his lips move against hers. This is still so new. They've taken so long to get to this point, and Rose is a little surprised she's not more impatient to move it to the next step, now that that door has finally been thrown open. She's certainly spent enough nights imagining it.

Instead, she's savouring every touch of his fingers, memorizing every caress of his lips, the way his chest rises and falls against hers. The way his hair tickles her forehead, the way his lower lip fits perfectly between hers. How his breath catches and his grip on her tightens, just a little, when she grazes his lip with her teeth.

They pull apart after a while, foreheads still touching, both unwilling to completely separate. There are words on her lips, on the tip of her tongue. She doesn't think she's quite ready to give them voice, but they're there.

Instead, Rose lifts her hand from the Doctor's shoulder to stroke his face, to trace nose and lips and cheeks as his eyes fall shut. It's a small thing, just a little movement, but it's so overwhelmingly vulnerable. He looks so unprotected in that moment, and Rose feels a tightness in her throat, can't help but catch his chin with thumb and forefinger to kiss him again.

Now his hand moves to the back of her head, thumb stroking against her neck as he parts his lips against hers, tilts his head to gently taste her lips with his tongue. And it's so tender, the way he kisses her like time is nothing, like it'll never run out for them, for this. It's all barely-there touches and tongue tips tasting, and it leaves Rose breathless.

Eventually, their kisses slow and then stop, almost stop, except that neither one can resist one more press of lips, and then one more after that. Rose draws in a shaky breath and the Doctor rubs his nose against hers, looking more than a little proud of himself, more than a little pleased with the two of them.

He pulls her tight against him, tucks her head under his chin, against his chest and they breathe together, sigh together.

"Rose?" he murmurs eventually.

Rose feels her heart pick up speed at the low intensity of his voice.

"Yeah?" she breathes.

There's a longer pause. He shifts to press his lips to the crown of her head, and she feels his mouth move against her hair.

"I thought you liked The Muppet Movie." He sounds the teeniest bit petulant. She's pretty sure that's not what he intended to say, but that's all right.

She smiles. "I did."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I loved it."

There's silence again, then, "Rose?"

"Yeah?"

"Sweet dreams."
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