emeraldem: (quillpen with name)
[personal profile] emeraldem
Here's the Dr. Who fanfic I was talking about. Remember, comments are love. :-)

Title: First Night
Author: [livejournal.com profile] gracewillow
Character/Pairing: Rose/TenII
Rating:PG-13 (for mild sexual innuendo)
Summary: The Doctor is a bit nervous...
Spoilers: Spoilers for 4.13, Journey's End
Disclaimer: If only I owned them... but I don't.
Author's Notes: Many thanks to my fab beta, [livejournal.com profile] cowgrrl!



Pete had sent a helicopter to Bad Wolf Bay to airlift them to Oslo, and then a company plane to bring them home. He met them at the door of the mansion, hugged Rose and Jackie tight, and shook hands with the Doctor. Then he took Jackie inside, and the new pair stood on the doorstep looking at each other until Rose finally said, “You’ve been here before, you know. No need to feel shy.”
“Things were a little different then.”
“No Cybermen this time, Doctor. We live here. And that ‘we’ includes you now. Mum called Dad about it from the plane, remember?” Rose smiled. “Just remember not to wake the baby, and you’ll be fine.”
“Er. Yes. Baby.” He ran his hands through his hair, not that it needed any additional help sticking up like porcupine quills. “Um.”
“And there’s Mum, and Dad. But I expect you’ll call them Jackie and Pete, as before.”
“They really get on well, never mind the different universes?”
“They really do. As we will. Come in, Doctor. It’s going to rain. You don’t want to get wet.”
“All right, but…”
“But what?”
“Look… families. I don’t do them well. I think I told Donna that once. Donna. Or was it Martha? Or you. No, Donna. I think.”
“Stop babbling and come in.” She took his hand and yanked him through the doorway. “Just teatime, and Mum makes a fierce crumpet with clotted cream.”
“Oh, does she?”
“Stop being so nervous. It’s all right, Doctor. Really.”
“You’re going to have to stop calling me that.”
“Why?” Startled.
“In public, I mean. If we’re going to…” and his voice trailed off.
Rose closed the front door against the oncoming rain and took both his hands in hers.
“Look, we’ll work it out, Doctor—but what am I supposed to call you in public, then?”
He smiled, even if it was only slightly.
“Why, John Smith, of course.”

Upstairs, on the landing, after an extended and extensive tea, there was an awkward moment.
“Er,” he said. “’Night, Jackie. ’Night, Pete. Nighty-night, baby.” The name had slipped his mind. Fortunately, the Tylers senior didn’t seem upset about it. They made their goodnights, took—Tony, that was it—in hand, and departed for their wing of the enormous house. Rose took his hand again.
“Nervous?”
“You’ve noticed.”
“There’s not much I don’t notice about you.”
He swallowed.
“What’s it about this time, Mr. Smith?”
“Oh, settling for formalities, are we?”
“I’m not ‘settling’ for anything,” she said. “Don’t ever think that. Now stop putting me off. What are you nervous about?”
“Well. Er. There’s… It seems to be bedtime.”
“Yes, and?”
“And don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it,” he retorted.
Rose laughed. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m teasing you. Not nice of me. I’ll stop now.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he muttered. “Seriously, though… it must have occurred to you…”
“Where are the two of us sleeping, you mean? And are we sleeping in the same room—and the same bed?”
“Well—” Er. “Yes, that would be it.”
“That depends on any number of things,” she said softly. “I have a bedroom. And there’s plenty of room in it. There are also guestrooms, always made up and ready. So it depends. How are you feeling, apart from nervous?”
“I’m not sure, but do we have to decide right away? I mean, can we, you know, I don’t know, maybe sit down and talk? Or, well, I don’t know exactly…”
“You are shy. Come on, then.” Rose, his hand still captured in hers, led him along the landing in the other direction from the one her parents and baby brother had taken. “This way. My sitting room.”
“Posh, aren’t we?”
“Does that make you nervous too?”
“No,” he muttered. “Not as long as you come along with it.”
She stopped, a wide smile on her face. “Why, Mr. Smith. I do believe that was a compliment.”
“What, haven’t you had one before?”
“Let’s talk about that later. Come and sit.” She pushed a door open. A sofa, cushioned chairs, curtained windows.
“Nightcap?” she offered.
“Thanks, no.” He sat down and fidgeted. She sighed and came over to him.
“Look… really… what is it?”
“I’m scared,” he whispered. “Scared I’ll do this all wrong.”
“What, being human?”
“Being with you.”
“You can’t.”
“How do you know that?”
“Do you want to give it a try, Doct—I mean, Mr. Smith?” She let her hair loose from its practical travelling updo and it swept forward around her face. His single heart skipped a beat. Rose lifted his shaking arms out of his lap and sat down in their stead.
Oh.
“Well, that’s different,” he mumbled into the perfumed hair. “Um.”
“Good different?” she asked quietly.
Well, Time Lord? Or should that be, Well, huma—oh, never mind. Was it good? Oh, yes.
He nuzzled into her neck in reply. Sweet soft skin, just as he’d always—
But she wanted an answer.
“Very good different,” he said, as clearly as he could. “Is there… more?”
“Do you want more?”
“And I thought you weren’t going to tease me anymore.”
“Perhaps I lied.”
“Perhaps you should kiss me.”
“Perhaps I should,” she murmured, and then she did.
Somehow they managed not to bump noses in the process.
“Oh, Rose.” That was the first breath he drew afterward. “Rose Tyler, I love you.”
“I love you, Doctor. Mr. John Smith. Whoever you are.” She smoothed down some of the porcupine quills. “Whoever you want to be.”
“Well, there is a bit of a question of that, isn’t there? What I’ll do…”
“There’s always our Torchwood. Not tonight, though. Tonight you’re coming to bed.”
“You’re not nervous?”
“We don’t have to do anything but sleep.”
“How is it you’re so confident, Rose Tyler?”
“How is it I shouldn’t be? I have what I want.”
“Am I what you want?” he said, unable to help himself.
“Ah-ha,” she said. “Finally. That’s it, isn’t it?”
He looked down, unable to speak.
“Look, Doctor—”
“I’m not him!”
“You’re you, and you’re the one I want. I told you I wasn’t ‘settling’ for anything. Do you love me?”
“Yes!”
“Do I love you?”
“I think you do…”
“I keep telling you. Do you believe me?” she said, sliding off his lap and kneeling in front of the chair. “Do you?”
He looked at her and started to shake again. “Yes,” he said. “By all the… yes, I do.”
“Then there’s no problem, is there?”
“No,” he said. “No, there isn’t.”
She stood up, leaned over him and kissed him lightly. “Feeling sleepy?”
“A lit—well, no. Maybe not.”
“Feeling tired?”
“No, I don’t think so,” he said, standing up.
“Feeling nervous?”
“Only in a healthy way.” He held her tight in his arms. “You?”
“No.” Then she said, “Hmm. Not feeling shy at all anymore, are you?”
“No,” he said definitely. “Which door did you say was your bedroom?”
“That one,” Rose said, and squealed as he picked her up. “What are you doing?”
“I read about this Earth custom,” he said. “Something about thresholds—”
“That’s for after weddings, you daft thing!”
“Fine,” he said cheerfully. “Just pretend I’m practicing.” And he carried her through the doorway.
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