#his other half in the metacrisis and his other half as a person

[bronzeagepizzeria]

A COMPREHENSIVE DEFENCE OF EVERYTHING TENTOO (PART 1)

Because unfortunately there’s a lot of stuff out there to refute.

so i guess a lot of people are watching doctor who right now because of good omens. and that, for some reason, means the tags are being constantly subjected to Certain tentoo takes so...it's meta time.

in this meta, i'll be rehashing how, exactly, tentoo is the doctor, and answering some other commonly posed objections to the pairing that is tentoo x rose.

But he's not the Doctor! Rose ended up with a copy!

First things first. The entire show revolves around the philosophical concept of Cartesian Dualism--the idea that the soul/spirit/mind has an entirely separate existence from the physical body. This is the basic principle of regeneration; when the Doctor regenerates, every organ, every cell in his body changes, and yet he remains the same man. What makes the Ninth Doctor the same man as the Tenth Doctor? There's something underlying here---the memories, the mind, the spirit. The body, has absolutely no significance.

In S6E6, The Almost People, we are introduced to the Ganger!Doctor. This is a man made out of like, slime, but he has the Eleventh Doctor's memories. Thus, he IS the Doctor. The Doctor himself says this.

In S9E11, Heaven Sent, the Twelfth Doctor is reduced to ashes millions and millions of times, and yet each time his body is 'recreated' or 'cloned', he remains the same person. Why? Because the memories persist. The soul lives on.

Here, have it straight from the horse's mouth.

"A man is the sum of his memories. A Time Lord even more so." - The Fifth Doctor, The Five Doctors, 1983

More evidence? What's the first thing the Tenth Doctor tries to do in Born Again to convince Rose that he really is the Doctor she knows?

DOCTOR: Very first word I ever said to you. Trapped in that cellar...Surrounded by shop window dummies. Oh...such a long time ago. I took your hand...I said one word. Just one word...Run.

Right. He shows her that he has the same memories.

Now cast your minds back to S4E13. What does the Metacrisis Doctor say when he's trying to convince Rose he's the same man?

Therefore, according to the lore established by the show itself, his missing heart has no significance to who he is. He is the Doctor.

2. But he's a CLONE.

Okay, first of all, he's not. He's a biological metacrisis, the only one of his kind. He has only one heart, i.e, he is not biologically identical to the Time Lord Doctor.

Second, even if he was, he would STILL be the Doctor. As established above.

Third, we see a Martha clone in S4E4, The Sontaran Stratagem, and she is a far cry from what we see of Tentoo.

3. Alright so he's not a copy. He's still only A Doctor! He isn't Ten, he's Half-Donna!

So. We've established that what makes a man is his memories.

If the Doctor had Donna's memories, he wouldn't be the Doctor anymore--which makes him ending up with Rose redundant. Here's the silver lining though.

Tentoo has only ten's memories. His own memories.

'How do we know this?' you may ask. Let's examine the script of S4E13, Journey's End.

(The Daleks spin around on the spot.) DALEK: Help me. Help me! DONNA: And the other way. NEW DOCTOR: What did you do? DONNA: Trip switch circuit-breaker in the psychokinetic threshold manipulator. NEW DOCTOR: But that's brilliant! DOCTOR: Why did we never think of that? DONNA: Because you two were just Time Lords, you dumbos, lacking that little bit of human. That gut instinct that comes hand in hand with planet Earth. I can think of ideas you two couldn't dream of in a million years.

Not very likely if Tentoo had her memories, right? This happens again, in the TARDIS Coral deleted scene:

DONNA: If you shatterfry the plasmic shell....you accelerate the growth power by fifty-nine. DOCTOR & NEW DOCTOR: We never thought of that.

There we go. Canon evidence that Tentoo does not have Donna's mind/memory/thought process. Instead, we see his mind being constantly referred to as that of his Time Lord counterpart.

4. So what exactly happened during the 'metacrisis' then? Why was Donna unable to sustain the change whereas we're meant to assume Tentoo is doing fine?

What happened in JE was a two-way metacrisis.

Tentoo is a biological metacrisis, i.e his mind remained the same, but the regeneration energy in his hand picked up on Donna's human biology and grew a human body. (His body is PART human, as in the ageing part. He'll grow old, and never regenerate.)

Whereas, Donna's body remained the same; she got the Doctor's mind, becoming the DoctorDonna. She is essentially the Doctor AND Donna, at this point in time.

At one point in JE, there are three Doctors ("There's three of you?") because as proved earlier, anybody that has the Doctor's memories, is the Doctor. There is: the Time Lord Doctor (Ten), the Human Doctor (Tentoo) and the Doctor Donna.

Since Donna was a human, she could not sustain the Doctor's mind alongside her own, which is what led to it burning up. It was simply too much for a human brain to take.

Tentoo, as proven earlier, does not have Donna's mind.

5. But he talks funny.

We are shown the Doctor picking up her mannerisms. The Doctor regularly picks up things from people he travels with. He "imprints" on Rose as a newly regenerated being and is shown to pick up on his companions' accents very often.

On a more analytical level, the "Donna mannerisms" bit is obviously comedic relief in an extremely action packed episode (evidenced by the fact that he literally never sounds like Donna again throughout the episode) and isn't meant to be taken that seriously. In every other scene, he is played by David Tennant, exactly as ten.

Tentoo is the Tenth Doctor, but human. In every way that matters, he is exactly Ten.

6. But he's Season 2 Ten! He doesn't have any of the character development Time-Lord Ten does!

Erm. Yeah. You've got to watch the show again.

7. Alright. Okay. If Tentoo is the exact same man, he would get bored of a life on earth with Rose. They'd never last.

Now we've got to address a key aspect of the Doctor's arc. (Keep in mind, when I refer to the Doctor herein, I only mean the Ninth and Tenth, the ones written by Russell T. Davies.)

The Doctor always wanted to be human.

The Doctor, and the Tenth Doctor in particular, wants to be human. It’s peppered here and there throughout the first four seasons, but if you watch closely, there’s this underlying current of wistfulness in him (“I’ve never had a life like that”; “The one adventure I can never have”), not to mention the entirety of the Human Nature two parter.

I think to some extent Rose made him feel human, and it’s his alienness that’s the big barrier in their relationship. He doesn't allow himself to love her the way he wants to because of the difference in their life spans. Because he's a Time-Lord, and he has a responsibility to the Universe, and he can't be more selfish than he's being already, keeping her with him.

She makes him want to be human, to be loved and to be free to love her as he wants to. She even helps him forget, sometimes, that he isn't human. Remember his expression in The Stolen Earth when he sees her again? He is so glad to see her. In that moment, it doesn't matter that they can never be together, because Rose loves him so much she came back.

I'm reminded of a quote from Buffy The Vampire Slayer:

I know that I'm a monster. But you treat me like a man.

And then bam. The almost-regeneration. The crushing reminder that he is intrinsically different from her species, from what he aches to be. Constant and selfish and free. Human.

Giving Rose up to his other self was the most selfless, loving thing he could’ve done. His other self, who is uninhibited, unburdened from the responsibilities of a Time Lord—can and will give Rose everything she deserves.

8. Just make Rose immortal then! Happy endings all around.

Now you might say, the earlier problem could be solved simply by making Rose immortal—she’d stay with the Doctor forever and she’d never have to leave him!

Here's the thing. Being immortal is Not Good.

A constant theme throughout seasons 1-4 is that immortality is not desirable. There is a constant motif of “living too long”, whether it be from Jack, the Face of Boe (cough), or the Doctor himself.

Things are only precious and meaningful because they end—the human way of doing things? Fast, and bright, and temporary? It’s the right way.

One of the many reasons the Doctor loves Rose is because she’s human—it’s a big part of why he’s attracted to her in the first place.

Besides, an immortal Rose would mean having to outlive her family, her friends, everyone she’s ever known—who else has experienced that? Oh, yeah. The Doctor. I can’t imagine him wanting her to go through the same thing under any circumstances.

9. Rose would never accept him. She wanted the adventure too, not just the Doctor.

This is the Rose who instantly felt connected to a parallel version of her parents. Remember, this Pete and Jackie had NO memory of her, and yet, she loved them. Tentoo IS Ten.

She also constantly refers to Tentoo as The Doctor, so I have faith in her figuring it out just fine.

As for the adventure, being human doesn't mean they're suddenly going to become accountants or work in childcare or something. (Looking at you, Jenny Colgan.)

Canon (Big Finish) tells us that they both work with UNIT/Torchwood, so we know that they're out there, defending Pete's World together.

'What about the TARDIS?' you may ask. Well, the writer considers it canon that the previously linked TARDIS coral scene did take place, so we can imagine that they're out there, exploring a new Universe.

But even if they didn’t have a TARDIS, we only need to look to S1E13, The Parting of the Ways, to understand that Rose cares about the Doctor above all else.

ROSE: But what do I do every day, mum? What do I do? Get up, catch the bus, go to work, come back home, eat chips and go to bed? Is that it? MICKEY: It's what the rest of us do. ROSE: But I can't! MICKEY: Why, because you're better than us? ROSE: No, I didn't mean that. But it was. It was a better life. And I don't mean all the travelling and seeing aliens and spaceships and things. That don't matter. The Doctor showed me a better way of living your life. You know he showed you too. That you don't just give up. You don't just let things happen. You make a stand. You say no. You have the guts to do what's right when everyone else just runs away.

Of course Rose loves the TARDIS. She just loves the Doctor more.

More evidence? S2E8, The Impossible Planet:

DOCTOR: ....They were grown, not built. And with my own planet gone, we're kind of stuck. ROSE: Well, it could be worse. This lot said they'd give us a lift. DOCTOR: And then what? ROSE: I don't know. Find a planet, get a job, live a life, same as the rest of the universe.

Clearly, she doesn't mind settling down---not if it means staying with the Doctor.

DOCTOR: I promised Jackie I'd always take you back home. ROSE: Everyone leaves home in the end. DOCTOR: Not to end up stuck here. ROSE: Yeah, but stuck with you, that's not so bad. DOCTOR: Yeah? ROSE: Yes.

Here's another conversation she has with Jackie in S2E12, Army of Ghosts:

JACKIE: No, but really. When I'm dead and buried, you won't have any reason to come back home. What happens then? ROSE: I don't know. JACKIE: Do you think you'll ever settle down? ROSE: The Doctor never will, so I can't. I'll just keep on travelling.

"I can't." Not I don't want to, or I'm not interested---I can't. Rose is in love with the Doctor, and she knows at some level that the feeling is mutual. She also knows, he will never fully act on it.

But that's alright, because she loves him so much she's made her peace with it and with his limitations.

And instead of the typical female protagonist sacrificing things for her love interest trope, we get RTD flipping it on its head and letting Ten deliver the ultimate sacrifice, perform the ultimate act of love---letting Rose go.

By doing this, he's giving her everything he never could. It's beautiful. It's heartbreaking. It's the best love story ever put to television.

Let me conclude with this quote:

“Firstly, Rose is neither shallow nor stupid. She doesn’t settle for second best. She gets the person she fell in love with. And, as a bonus, he’s now able to spend the rest of his life with her, as she with him. Secondly, the very same person who experienced the heartbreak of losing Rose for the first time now experiences joy at the prospect of a lifetime in her company. In this full sense, the Doctor who lost, finally wins.” - Paul Dawson, Doctor Who and Philosophy.

10. But the Doctor and Rose ending up together is disgusting! They were platonic!

…..

[incomingalbatross]

96, 98, and 100 for the DW asks?

Thank you, and sorry this took so long! :) 

 96. Actor/actress you’d like to see play a companion? 

 I don't really think about fancasting much, I have to be honest, so...hmm. I don't know. I think there are lots of actors I'd like to see on DW, and lots more who could do a good job that I've never seen! But it's hard to call any to mind right now. :P 

I'm gonna say maybe Anna Torv, (relatively) off the top of my head? If she could be persuaded to take a job outside of Australia, anyway. Because A) she's an incredible actress, B) she's relatively obscure I think, since I've only seen her in Fringe, and C) it would be fun to have another Australian companion.

98. Which characters fate would you changed?

I mean, there are plenty that I have mental fix-its for! Ones whose fates I don't like, but am comfortable adjusting in their post-canon phases: Zoe and Jamie (though EU has kind of done that for Jamie already); Peri (Eu's done THIS five or six times but I've never been satisfied :P ); Metacrisis Doctor; Donna; and maybe Amy and Rory (I'm okay that they ended up together but unhappy that they got uprooted from their lives).

Exits I would flat-out write differently: Maaaaybe Jo's? I'm glad she's happy with her guy, but I wasn't convinced he was good enough for her. Definitely Leela's--I know Big Finish has made a lot of story out of her being on Gallifrey, and that's cool, but on its own that ending made NO sense for her. Adric's because it was SAD and MEAN-SPIRITED and having written a hated character is no reason to inflict that death on his friends, even if you don't like him. Peri's again (her ending is so weird I feel like it fits on both lists). And you know who I MIGHT have actually left on Gallifrey, maybe? Nyssa. Nyssa might actually have been happy there, I'm not sure. I would NEVER write Rose's second ending the way it happened in canon, for the same reason I would change Metacrisis Doctor's (because I find that relationship Very Very Bad on many levels), but that's fixable post-canon. 

(I apologize if this is just a list of strange names to you. :P I'm surprisingly okay with about half the New Who fates, which is more than I would have guessed off the top of my head.)

100. If you could write an episode of DW, any ideas for what you’d do?

Oh, FUN!

I have a lot of ideas for things to do with DW (like every other fan), but if I had just one story I would use it to revisit a Classic companion. There are a bunch of good choices here, but the one I have the most well-developed story concept for is Turlough, so let's go with him!

Turlough's origin (what we know of it) is very bound up in his home's political troubles, and I love his character arc in canon, so I'd do something that lets us explore more of both those things. I'd do a political intrigue story on his homeworld or another planet associated with it, where he runs into the Doctor & current companions and helps them out, and we also get to see (after some initial shadiness just for fun) that he's grown into an unambiguously heroic person and responsible leader of his people. I think that could be a really good story, and ALSO wouldn't need much exposition if you handled it right. Just reveal his connection to the Doctor to the current companions + audience at the same time and you're good.

[megabadbunny]

Of Turns and Tides (Or: One Time The Doctor Was A Giant Arse About Rose's Pregnancy, and Five Times He Wasn't)

Because I don't necessarily think Rose and the metacrisis Doctor would have any children, but if they did, I can't imagine it would go quite the way it's portrayed in The Turning of the Tide. SFW version on FF.net.

Also this fic is dedicated to @davinasgirlfriend​​, whose patience with me is a blessed fucking virtue. Go read her stuff. She's an absolute doll. <3 <3 <3

***

0.

 It’s not like they weren’t careful—Rose has got her shot, after all, and honestly after everything the Cannon put her through, she’s sort of surprised everything still works in there, reproductively-speaking—but it’s just her luck that he would have some sort of Time Lord supersperm in addition to everything else.

“I’m pregnant,” she replies when he asks, in that sometimes-perfunctory way of his, how she’s doing this morning, amidst the bustle of making his tea and his toast and poring over the reports streaming into his mobile. He’s fully dressed (of course he is, bloody morning person) but Rose is still in her pyjamas (if one qualifies one of the Doctor’s tee shirts as her pyjamas, which she does), watching him as he drifts about with his eyes glued to his phone. Rose sits very still, clutching the pregnancy test, has been ever since it cheerfully gave her its diagnosis a few moments prior, and she’s trying not to think about how gross it is, really, that she’s more or less sitting at the kitchen table with a wee-stick in hand, even if it is dry by now. She reminds herself to scrub off extra hard in the bath, give everything in the kitchen a good solid wipedown later.

“How about you?” Rose asks, tapping the test nervously against her thigh.

The Doctor nods. “Good, good,” he says, in a way that very much suggests he is not listening to her even a little bit.

“I went ahead and scheduled an appointment in a couple days, to see how far along things are,” says Rose. “Maybe about seven weeks, going by my period.”

“Mm-hmm, excellent, excellent.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to start having regular checkups and such.”

“Uh-huh.”

“To make sure everything’s going like it should.”

“Well, naturally,” the Doctor replies, staring at his mobile.

“You know. With the pregnancy.”

“Of course.”

“Yep,” Rose says mildly, throwing up her hands. “Not every day you give birth to a lizard, after all. Did I tell you I volunteered for the lizard-mother-surrogate program in Chiswick?” 

“Mmm.”

“Yeah, it’s been in the works for a few years in this universe, human-lizard surrogacy. Big market for it over here. Mum’s had six. Pete’s in line next. Just lizards, lizards all over the place. Like Biblical-plague levels,” Rose continues, staring at him. “It’ll be toads next. I guess I should have asked which you prefer. Would you rather have a lizard or a toad in the nursery, Doctor?”

“Yes,” says the Doctor.

Sighing in frustration, Rose waits. She waits and watches the Doctor as he pulls the toast from the pan (too hot, he burns his fingers on the first try but it doesn’t stop him trying again anyway) and pours his tea (and promptly forgets about it) and removes the jam from the fridge (and promptly forgets about that as well) and shoves the unbuttered, un-jammed toast between his teeth before grabbing his coat and calling out an absentmindedly muffled “Meet you at the car!” around a mouthful of food as he darts out the front door.

The flat is, as always, very quiet without him in it.

Rose sighs again, but she only has half a moment to feel deflated before a soft squeal lets her know that the front door is opening again, slowly, this time. She looks up to see the Doctor popping back in, pulling the toast out of his mouth, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

“I’m sorry,” he says, hesitantly. “You’re what?”

Rose nods. “Pregnant, yeah.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Well, probably cos it’s true,” Rose replies, holding up the pregnancy test, its reading displayed on the screen for the whole world to see.

“Ah,” says the Doctor. His stare loses focus, fixed on nothing in particular.

Rose waits, forcing herself to be patient. Not to fidget.

“Well, that’s,” says the Doctor, scratching the back of his neck. “That’s. Hmm.”

Rose frowns. “Are you all right?”

“I’m—yes, of course,” the Doctor says, shaking his head and blinking just a little too fast. “Always am. You?”

“I’m a little worried about you, to be honest.”

“Oh, well, no reason to be, everything’s fine,” says the Doctor as he yanks on his coat, struggling to pull his sleeve over a fist wrapped around crumbling toast. “I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m perfectly all right. Why wouldn’t I be? Everything’s fine. Everything’s dandy. Fantastic. Molto bene—”

Concerned, Rose rises from the table. “Doctor—”

“Only I’m running a tad late, though, so I’ll just—I’ll hail a taxi, shall I, and let you get to HQ on your own time?” says the Doctor, backing away as he shoves the remainders of his toast directly into a coat pocket. “Sounds good to me, practical resolution, useful all around. I’ll see you at work, then, shall I?”

And with that, he takes off running out the door, before Rose can get in another word.

With a great heavy sigh, Rose tosses the pregnancy test in the bin before plonking back down at the table, shoulders slumping. She can’t say she’s surprised by his reactions; it’s all more or less what she expected, or what she would have expected, had she ever anticipated the possibility that things might fare this way. But still. She’d sort of held out hope, in the ten or so minutes since she’d seen that plus flashing across the test screen, that he would be happy. Rose has never felt that deep urgent desire to have children of her own—goodness knows she likes children, and of course she loves Tony, but becoming a mother has just never been an entry on her list of priorities—but now that the very real likelihood of having a child is staring her in the face, Rose finds she’s warming up to the idea quite quickly. The thought of building a family with the Doctor is nice. Rose is surprised by just how nice that thought feels.

It’s less nice to know that he may not feel the same way.

Shaking her head, Rose chides herself. He had a family once before, she knows, and while she may not be privy to many of the details, she’s sharp enough to know he lost them. She can only imagine the sort of scar that would leave, the sort of bone-deep hurt that would haunt a person after something like that. This is probably quite a shock to him, she reasons. He just needs a little bit of time, and space, and support, and then he’ll come around. He always does. Well, he usually does. Well, the jury’s still out on a few items. But she loves him, and he loves her, and that’s what really matters. Right? And in a few moments, Rose will finish washing up and getting ready for work, and when she shows up at UNIT, things may be a little tense and stiff with the Doctor for a little bit, but he’ll relax back into his usual self before either of them knows it. Neither of them can stay awkward or uncomfortable with the other for too long. No reason for this to be any different. But they’ll get to work in their adjacent departments and the Doctor will loosen up and Rose’s nerves will settle and then things will be fine.

Right?

(Except when Rose arrives at UNIT, the Doctor’s not there. No one’s seen him. No one’s heard from him. There’s no sign of him in UNIT at all, not for the rest of the day; texts go unanswered and calls go straight to voicemail. And when Rose returns home that evening, frustrated and bewildered and hurt, the flat is dark and empty, the Doctor nowhere to be seen.

Well. Fuck.)

 **

 Despite the low background hum of panic buzzing nonstop at the back of her brain, Rose does a marvelous job of not-vibrating-out-of-her-skin-with-anxiety during the next several days, in which the Doctor deigns to make precisely zero (0) appearances. In fact, she does such a marvelous job, it doesn’t even occur to her to jump when he bursts in on her obstetrician’s appointment without warning.

“Doctor,” Rose says amidst the sounds of Jackie’s indignant “Oi, what do you think you’re doing, barging in like that?” But the Doctor ignores them both, proceeding immediately to the nurse’s clipboard where she left it, flipping through the notes with an intensity that borders on the manic.

Rose knows she should feel relief at seeing the Doctor here, now; he may look a bit pale and wan beneath the fluorescent lights, his scruff a little longer than usual, perhaps a little less kempt, but he’s safe, he’s not injured, he didn’t get himself into some kind of stupid trouble, somehow. (Didn’t run away, didn’t just leave her here. Not that she’d ever entertained such a worry. Except when she did.) But once the tide of anxiety ebbs, Rose realizes what she feels now is mostly anger.

A lot of anger.

“And where the hell have you been, eh?” Jackie demands; in lieu of a reply, the Doctor reaches into his pocket for his spectacles, slipping them on as he pores over the nurse’s paperwork.

Rose stares stonily at the Doctor as Jackie tuts with impatience. “Hey, mister. I asked you a question—”

“Height’s off,” announces the Doctor, procuring a pen so he can write over the nurse’s notes with his own. “Too short by 2.3 millimeters. Weight’s off, too, missing a quarter-kilogram or so, they really should get their scales fixed. And the age listed doesn’t account for the disparity between time rates in your original versus current universes. Incompetent twenty-first century medicine,” he adds under his breath. “Might as well be living in the Stone Age.”

Rose’s jaw clamps so tightly she’s surprised she doesn’t crack any molars. With a huff, Jackie reaches for the clipboard, but the Doctor backs away out of reach without even looking. “Don’t they even test for Hepatitis B surface antigens in this universe?” he scoffs.

“No, cos we haven’t got any of the Hepatitises in this universe, have we?” snaps Jackie. “And none of this is any of your business anyway, not until you apologize to Rose for up and disappearing on her. How long’ve you been gone, now, without so much as a word? Three days? Four? I mean really, how could you do that to her, putting her through the wringer like that? And right after she tells you she’s pregnant, too!”

“Yes, yes, I’m very sorry,” says the Doctor absently with a dismissive wave of his hand, his gaze still fixed on the clipboard in front of him, “but we’ve got more pressing things to attend to, so let’s just go ahead and get this over with, shall we?”

“Get what over with?” asks Jackie, as Rose’s fists clench the examination table beneath her, the pleather squeaking under her fingernails. “No,” Jackie continues, pointing an accusatory finger at the Doctor. “Until you apologize to Rose—and I mean apologize properly, you daft alien twat—the only getting you’re doing is out. So send in the actual physician,” she snarls, and now her finger is jabbing toward the door, “and then get out.”

“No can do,” quips the Doctor as he darts away to rummage about in the room’s cabinet-drawers. “Your so-called actual physician’s gone home for the day—seems someone might have hacked his calendar and reassigned his last patient today to one visiting Dr. James C. Noble, a.k.a, me.”

The Doctor ignores Rose’s eyes widening in alarm and Jackie’s splutter of indignation as he pulls out a stethoscope and drapes it about his neck. “And as you know, your actual physician is booked rather full right now,” he continues, withdrawing a blood-pressure cuff and other assorted equipment. “So if you want your checkup done any time in the next three weeks, here’s your one and only opening.”

Hands balled into fists, Jackie draws a deep breath and opens her mouth to hurl forth what will be, undoubtedly, a scathing stream of insults and outrage in an eruption that would put Mount Vesuvius to shame, but she stops when Rose places a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Mum,” says Rose, with a calmness she certainly does not feel. “Would you give the Doctor and me a few moments, please?”

Jackie’s mouth clamps shut as she glances between Rose and the Doctor, lips twisting in disapproval. The Doctor either can’t meet their gazes, or he won’t. Just as well; if eyes could truly shoot daggers, Jackie would be gutting the Doctor right about now.

“Mum,” says Rose again, softly, and Jackie relaxes a little, though she’s still eyeing the Doctor with a healthy amount of disgust.

“All right, sweetheart,” says Jackie with a sniff. “But don’t let him off too easy, yeah? You let someone hurt you like that once, they’ll just keep doing it. And you deserve better than that.”

Her eyes flicker meaningfully toward Rose’s belly. “You both do,” Jackie tells her, and sweeps out of the room with a flounce and a huff.

It’s just Rose and the Doctor in the exam room, now. The quiet is loud enough to suffocate. But the Doctor still won’t look at her.

“Well, now that that’s all out of the way, shall we proceed?” says the Doctor, snapping on a pair of medical gloves as he steps briskly over to Rose. “See if we can pick up on the fetal heartbeat, take a few other readings—”

“No,” says Rose.

“—and check on your vitals,” says the Doctor, ignoring her as he plugs the stethoscope into his ears and presses the bell to her sternum, through her shirt. “Seeing as they are, you know, vital—” 

“I said no,” Rose tells him, firmly.

“—and naturally, one must always be prepared for all possibilities, like preeclampsia or fibrinogen deficiency or aortic insufficiency, for example,” the Doctor breezes on as if he didn’t hear her, shifting the stethoscope on her chest, “which reminds me, I should order an echocardiogram, just in case. Of course, there’s always the chance it won’t adequately visualize the ascending aorta—”

“Nothing’s wrong with my heart, Doctor.”

“—but even rudimentary tests are better than no test, though an echocardiogram might not be necessary after all, since the auscultation of the stethoscope combined with my superior auditory capabilities means I can probably detect and diagnose any murmurs without visual aid of any sort. However, the added strain of carrying a pregnancy to term could place undue stress on the host’s cardiac system, so one must diligently keep an eye out for any symptoms of myocardial infarction or peripartum cardiomyopathy developing in the patient’s—”

“No,” Rose shouts, smacking the Doctor’s hand away. “God, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

The Doctor’s face is pinched in discomfort and Rose realizes the smack must have been terribly loud for him, amplified greatly by the stethoscope, but she doesn’t much care right this second. Her blood is rushing in her ears and boiling in her veins and her sinuses are so full of pressure from four-days’-worth of unshed tears (because he ran away, she told him she was pregnant and he ran away, he left her, and even if he came back, it still fucking hurts) that Rose feels like her head is going to burst. 

“I’m not some bloody patient,” Rose tells the Doctor, her breathing rough and ragged, “and I’m sure as hell not a fucking host. I’m me. I’m Rose. I’m your partner.” She feels her expression harden. “Or at least I thought I was.”

The Doctor doesn’t reply, the stethoscope-bell still grasped in one hand, the ends still plugged in his ears. His face is carefully blank, now. That just makes Rose even angrier.

“You left,” she tells him. “The second things got a little serious, you left me.”

“I was only gone for ninety-three hours, Rose,” he argues softly.

“Only,” Rose scoffs. “That’s four days I haven’t heard from you, haven’t known if you were dead or alive or hurt or kidnapped or ever coming back—”

“Your faith in me is truly inspiring,” says the Doctor drily, removing the stethoscope so he can drop it on the counter. “Would you have thought any of that about the real Doctor?”

“Don’t you dare,” snaps Rose, springing up from the examination table. “We settled all that ages ago. I know who you are,” she says, jabbing a finger into his chest, “and you do too, and you are not going to drudge up a petty old row from two years back just so you can use it like a shield against me. I’m angry with you, properly angry, and I’ve got every right to be. You got that?”

The Doctor’s expression doesn’t change, except that he might purse his lips a little in frustration. “Got it,” he says tonelessly, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Blinking furiously in an effort to hold back her tears, Rose draws in a deep, steadying breath. “You need to talk to me. You need to tell me what’s going on. I know you don’t want to, but you’ve got to. That’s part of what being a couple is about. That’s one of the rules. One of the biggest.”

A runaway tear rolls down her cheek and Rose angrily scrapes it off with the heel of her palm. “I might not always understand what you’re going through right away, but I’ll always listen. Cos we’re in this together. Right?”

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice clipped.

“Aren’t we?”

A pause. “Yes.”

Another tear escapes and rolls sluggishly down Rose’s cheek, leaving a cold and sticky trail in its wake. Rose doesn’t wipe it away this time, no matter how much she hates crying in front of others (no matter how much she especially hates crying in front of him). “Look at me, please,” she says, her jaw set, and slowly, the Doctor obeys, his eyes meeting hers properly for the first time in days. Only now does Rose notice the dark circles under his raw and red-rimmed eyes; god, he looks tired.

“I know you’ve probably got complicated feelings about all this,” Rose tells him, forcing the words out no matter how much they want to stick in her throat. “And that’s okay. I’m still sorting out how I feel, myself. But you can’t just run away when something’s bothering you, now. Not anymore.”

The Doctor glances away from her.

“Please just talk to me,” Rose says, willing her voice not to tremble. “Just tell me what’s going through your head. Please.”

Eyes sliding shut, the Doctor just exhales, his breath leaving his lungs with a shake. “I don’t…” he starts to say, and stops. He licks his lips nervously. He falls silent. Rose waits for him to try again.

Decades and centuries pass between them.

“I’m not sure how I feel,” the Doctor confesses quietly. “I want to be excited. I want to want this. But I just—I can’t…”

He swallows. “I’m just so afraid. And that fear is drowning out everything else.”

Rose nods, stepping closer to him. “Okay. What are you afraid of?”

The Doctor barks out a harsh laugh. “Is Everything a comprehensive enough answer for you?”

“What’s bothering you, specifically?”

“Really, I should’ve known better, taken better precautions,” the Doctor mutters, more to himself than her, Rose suspects. “I can’t let my guard down, not for anything, not ever. I promised myself I’d never go through any of this ever again. Never again. I can’t. I just can’t.”

“Any of what?” Rose asks patiently.

“Having a family,” the Doctor replies, the words almost choked, like he’s wrenched them out of his chest. “Being a father.”

“You’re afraid of losing your family again.”

“Of course I am,” the Doctor says brokenly. His hands push beneath his specs to rub at his eyes. “Can you really blame me?”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“What difference would it make?”

“Because you’re acting like this is something you’ve got to face all on your own, but you don’t,” Rose tells him stubbornly. “I don’t just need you right now, Doctor. You need me, too.”

The Doctor opens his mouth like he might protest, but Rose doesn’t give him a chance. “You said you want to be excited,” Rose tells him. “Just a minute ago, you said you want to want this. If you take the fear away—easier said than done, I know, but bear with me—how do you feel, underneath all that? Be honest, please. What do you feel when you think of me being pregnant? When you think of us having a family?”

“It isn’t exactly us, though, is it?” the Doctor says, pushing a hand through his hair. “It’d be your body doing all the work. I haven’t got any right to tell you what to do with your body.”

“True,” says Rose, as the ghost of a smile threatens to quirk the corner of her mouth. “But you’re not telling me. I’m asking you.”

She pokes his chest again, halfheartedly this time. “Don’t get used to it.”

The Doctor flashes a weak half-smile her way. “I don’t know, Rose,” he says, and the smile fades like it was never there. “Honestly, it shouldn’t even be possible. It never really occurred to me that this might happen, because it isn’t supposed to. It can’t. Time Lords haven’t reproduced like this for eons. The human DNA shouldn’t be enough to override that basic programming, shouldn’t have been enough to render me anything but functionally sterile.”

He sighs, raking his hands through his hair. “I don’t know. If things were different—if we knew more about the embryonic genetic makeup, if I’d read up more on human-Time Lord crossbreeding when I had the chance, if the TARDIS were full-grown and we had access to anything more advanced than twenty-first century medical equipment, if I felt like I could trust the physicians here properly, if the infant-mother mortality rate wasn’t what it is in this day and age—though I suppose at least we’re not in America, can you imagine?—then I might...”

Shaking his head, he grunts in frustration. “But then I start thinking about how defenseless you’ll be, especially in the later months, and as soon as word gets out, who knows what sort of attention that might attract, everything from overeager paparazzi to potential kidnappers to opportunistic extraterrestrials looking to make a quick buck harvesting rare hybrid children—and that doesn’t take into account anything that could happen to either of you after you’ve given birth, there’s just so much out there that could hurt you, our life together is just so hectic and so dangerous and so much, but even removing those factors from the equation there’s still plenty that’s ready and waiting to kill you right in your own home, and—there are just so many confounding factors, Rose, so many unknown variables, literally anything could happen, and I might not be able to stop any of it, not anymore. And that’s just for the stuff I’m not actively screwing up all on my own—”

“Fine, so don’t go swanning off for days on end next time something freaks you out,” Rose bites back. “That’s half the battle right there.”

“Rose, you’re not hearing me—”

“Yes, I am,” Rose retorts. “You’re scared. Of course you are. I’m scared, too. Anyone with half a brain cell is going to be at least a little bit scared over something like this. So you acknowledge that you can’t control everything, make plans where you can, and learn to roll with the punches where you can’t. You don’t fucking desert the person you said you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.”

“But I just needed a bit of time, Rose, I never meant—” 

“It doesn’t matter if you meant for it to feel like that or not,” Rose snaps back. “That’s how it felt, Doctor. It was like you left me, after telling me you never would again. After you promised. And it hurt.”

The Doctor doesn’t reply to that, just watches her, mouth working like he wants to argue, but the words won’t cooperate. Tears start welling up again in Rose’s eyes, fat and blurry and thick; the Doctor seems to crumple a little at the sight.

“What if I lose you again?” he asks, defeated. “What if something happens, and I lose you both?”

“I don’t know,” Rose tells him honestly. “But we’re safer together, aren’t we? And better together, too.”

At that, something in the Doctor seems to give way. “Yes,” he agrees, his voice hoarse, his face as open and vulnerable as Rose has ever seen it. “I’m sorry,” he adds.

When Rose can’t make any words come out, too busy fighting back tears, whatever resistance remains in the Doctor seems to drain away and he reaches out to pull her close, wrapping his arms around her like he’s afraid she’ll disappear. “I’m sorry,” he tells her, tightening his hug when Rose starts to shake, unable to staunch the flow of tears any longer. “I’m sorry,” he says again over the sounds of her sobs, muffled against his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he repeats, over and over, holding her tight while she cries into his shirt. “I won’t leave again. Ever again. I won’t. We’re in this together. I promise,” the Doctor tells her, holding her close. “I’m sorry, Rose.”

Rose clings to him even harder as she cries.

 **

 They’re both exhausted by the time they climb into bed later that evening (later, but still early, for them), but that doesn’t stop Rose from turning in the Doctor’s arms to press a hungry kiss to his mouth. It’s a claim that leaves no room for question, and even though Rose knows he wants to—We don’t have to, I’ve been an idiot, I don’t deserve this, I don’t deserve you; she’s heard it all before after a row and she’ll likely hear it all again—the Doctor doesn’t argue. Not this time. This time he meets her kisses in kind, urging her mouth open with his and grabbing her by the chin so he can take bruising control of the kiss.

Relief surges through Rose as he kisses her fiercely, clutching her close. Looks like she’s not the only one who’s starved for comfort tonight.

The Doctor breaks away so he can press a searing-hot kiss to Rose’s jaw, her throat, her collarbone, the swell of her breast. Kissing a line down to her navel, the Doctor hooks his fingers in the waistband of her pants and pulls them off, discarding them; a familiar ache swells between Rose’s legs at the sight of him between her thighs, and she slickens at the sensation of his tongue darting out to taste her, but as delicious as that sounds (and as good as it feels, fuck), it isn’t what she wants right now, isn’t what she needs. She urges him back upward so she can feel the reassuring weight of him pressing against her, his cock stiffening between them, his heart hammering against hers.

They don’t always have time to take their clothes off before sex—two years on, and sometimes the need is still so urgent, they’re too impatient to remove anything but the barest essentials—but tonight the Doctor pulls off his boxer briefs and Rose pulls off his tee shirt and they work together to untangle her from her sleep-shirt and it’s such a fucking relief when they slide together, skin-to-skin, Rose’s nipples scraping sharply against his chest, that Rose can’t help but hum in satisfaction. She needs to feel him, needs to feel all of him, her tongue plunging into his mouth as she wraps a hand around his cock and strokes him hard. He pants against her lips and leans his weight to one side so he can slide a hand between them, his fingers plunging slickly inside her as she grinds her clit against the heel of his palm. It’s only a few moments before Rose is urging his cock inside, wrapping her thighs around his waist and arching needfully upward. She doesn’t give either of them time to adjust, but immediately rocks against him, clenching and rutting and clutching at his back as he thrusts into her, swearing under his breath. It doesn’t take long for the climax to start building low in Rose’s belly so she reaches down between them, intent on urging the Doctor along, but he grabs her hand and pins it to the mattress, her fingers gripped tight and slick between his as she comes with a shout and he follows shortly after.

If there’s something a little desperate in his touch tonight, neither of them mentions it.

 ***

 1.

 After several days and many many hugs and kisses and apologies and promises and two lush bouquets (picked and purchased by the Doctor, one for Rose (for obvious reasons) and one for Jackie (lest she slap him back into the other universe)), Rose is leaving the obstetrician’s office once again, this time having attended a full and proper appointment (also negotiated by the Doctor, as part of his ongoing penance). But this time, when Rose leaves, she’s armed with a series of diagnostics (all of them proclaiming the absolute normalcy of this pregnancy, no matter how the Doctor scrutinizes them) and a couple of recommendations (to up her iron intake, among other things), and her mother is only glaring at the Doctor the usual amount (which is to say, about 25% of the time). With Jackie in the lead, Rose and the Doctor lingering a few steps behind, Rose isn’t half-tempted to make a joke about the Doctor maintaining minimum safe distance from her mum after the events of the other day, but she knows it’s less about that, and more about how aggressively excited Jackie has allowed herself to become, now that the Doctor’s stopped being a giant prat.

(Excited might be an understatement.)

“Oh, sweetheart. This is all so brilliant. I’m so happy for you,” Jackie squeals over her shoulder at Rose, beaming through sparkling tears that threaten to fall and ruin her makeup. “You’re gonna make such a good mum, I just know it! It’s gonna come to you so natural. Well, I mean, there’s books and things to help out with all of that, and they’re good and all, but it’s about instinct, too, and you’ve got that in spades.

“And I absolutely can’t wait to start buying you things. Are you gonna ask about the sex? No, you don’t care about that,” Jackie says dismissively before either Rose or the Doctor has a chance to reply, which is just as well, as this conversation hasn’t actually involved anyone besides Jackie for some time now. “Oh, I do hope the little one likes girly things, though,” she continues. “Lord knows I love your brother, but he’s a bit rough-and-tumble, isn’t he, and I sort of miss all the ruffles and princess things. Don’t get me wrong, he loves a good princess movie just like you did, got all the dolls and stuff, but he’s not much on the dressing-up, and I would just adore the chance to buy some cute little dresses again, and, oh my goodness, Rose, I just can’t believe it, I’m gonna be a grandmum, you’re gonna have a baby—”

Jackie rounds the corner ahead and Rose is surprised to feel a tug on her hand the second Jackie disappears from sight. It’s the Doctor, of course, pulling her back toward him, but when Rose turns to look at him, a question hovering on her lips, he just pulls her gently forward so he can wrap his arms around her, trapping her in a snug embrace.

Her heart pounds in her chest, but not unpleasantly. Emotion swells in her throat as her arms wind back around him, fists clenching in his shirt. His arms tighten around her, almost uncomfortably so. Rose feels rather than hears his breath leaving him, long and slow and measured and just short of reverent. Like a man in prayer. After a moment, he spreads a hand between them, palm over her belly, like it’s just now occurring to him exactly what’s happening, what they’ve started together here, the sheer enormity of it all. He plants a kiss against her head, burying his face in her hair after. Rose tries to remember if she’s ever seen him act quite so tender as this, before.

The moment is over almost as quickly as it begins; soon enough the Doctor is springing away and tugging Rose along by the hand, propelling the two of them toward Jackie, like nothing just happened. But when Rose squeezes his hand (in comfort or solidarity or reassurance; she’s not sure and she’s not sure it matters anyway), he squeezes back, tightly.

“...and oh, do you remember that little garden dress you had once upon a time, the pink gingham with the roses, and the little white patent shoes?” Jackie is saying now, as she waits for the lift in front of them. “You were a vision, Rose. An absolute vision. All the other mums thought so. You were such a pretty little girl. A pretty baby, too. You know how some babies are ugly but no one talks about it? Sort of look like creepy little Gollum types? Well that weren’t you, to be sure. And just look at you now, you’re already glowing and everything, did you know that?” she asks, glancing back at Rose once again with a smile. “Pregnancy’ll do wonders for your skin. Did for me, anyway. Beverly wasn’t so lucky—d’you remember how she puffed up like a walrus, got the eczema all over? Not you, though. You look like one of them Renaissance paintings. Or like an angel, even!”

“Oh my god, Mum,” Rose laughs. “That’s the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Well, someone’s got to say the cheesy things. Lord knows he won’t,” says Jackie, fixing the Doctor with a meaningful stare.

“I’m just waiting for the right moment,” the Doctor replies pleasantly. “As, for instance, the half-second you stop talking long enough to draw breath.”

Jackie flashes a dirty look his way and Rose laughs.

 ***

 2. 

 Everything is proceeding normally for a standard human pregnancy (almost painfully normally, really, even as the Doctor checks and double-checks and triple-checks everything from Rose’s sodium levels to the babyproof latches he’s already installed on all of the cabinet doors to the ambient temperature in each and every room Rose enters because You’re basically a greenhouse, Rose, a greenhouse growing a person instead of plants, and everyone knows greenhouses have to be kept at the optimum temperature in order to flourish), right up to the first day Rose notices her belly, by way of trying to fasten her trousers over it. They do not, of course, fasten, because see above, re: belly.

“Welp,” she says, slouching into the nursery with a sigh. It really is a lovely nursery, if a bit yellow, but the Doctor has insisted that yellow is the optimum color for budding baby TARDISes and larval humans, and this is a hill Rose is perfectly content to not-die-on. “I’m officially getting fat,” Rose announces.

The Doctor tuts in disapproval but doesn’t look up from his task, carefully pruning wayward growths on the TARDIS coral in front of him. “Three additional kilograms hardly qualifies as getting fat,” he says mildly, “although even if it did, and even if you were, it wouldn’t be cause for concern unless there was a non-pregnancy-related underlying health condition we needed to address.”

“Just the condition of my fat,” Rose replies cheerfully.

The Doctor spares his focus just long enough to roll his eyes, the motion even more comical and exaggerated than usual thanks to his work-goggles. “You’re incubating a whole entire person inside of your person, Rose. That’s bound to put on some extra weight on you, even before you start taking into account things like fluid retention and nutrient stores.”

“Fluid retention and nutrient stores. Way to pique a girl’s appetite,” teases Rose.

“Now that you mention it, I am a bit peckish, myself,” the Doctor admits as he works. “What are you thinking? Takeaway? Pizza? Your mum’s fish pie is in the fridge but I’m not certain that qualifies as food so much as kindling.”

Rose chuckles a little. “You really don’t mind?” she asks, scuffing a bare foot restlessly over the floor.

“Not at all. Getting rid of that pie would be doing the world a favor.”

“No,” Rose laughs, the sound more genuine this time. “Not that.”

“What, then?”

“You know. That I’m gonna get all…”

The Doctor piques an eyebrow in suspicion, and rather than risk another lecture by uttering the word aloud, Rose finishes her sentence in pantomime, outlining a large belly in front of her. He stares at her blankly in response, eyes blinking owlishly behind their protective goggles.

Rose sighs. “I’m gonna get big, Doctor,” she says. “Like a big belly. Maybe really big.”

He nods. “Probably. Your point?”

Suddenly unable to look him in the eye, Rose focuses on her foot instead, tracing invisible patterns over the floor. “Just, you know,” she says softly. “Other blokes haven’t cared for it all that much, when I gain weight.”

“That’s because other blokes are idiots,” the Doctor announces, all smiles and bouncy cheer. “Fortunately you’re not stuck in this with any of them,” he continues, pulling off his goggles. “You’re stuck in this with me. And I happen to have very correct opinions about that sort of thing.”

“Oh, yeah?” Rose laughs, something loosening in her shoulders, the release of tension she wasn’t even aware was there.

“Oh, yes,” he says, sauntering over to Rose with his hands shoved lazily in his pockets. “All excellent opinions, each and every one of them. Many of them even backed up by science!”

Rose grins at him. “And when my belly gets so big that I can’t tie my own shoes anymore, or shave my legs?”

“Then we’ll just have to get you shoes that don’t need tying, won’t we? Or I’ll tie them for you. And a hairy leg or two never hurt anyone, but if it would make you feel better, I can always shave your legs.”

“Really?”

He shrugs again. “Really. How hard can it be?”

Shaking her head, her grin broadening until she can’t take it anymore, Rose pushes up on her toes to plant a kiss on his lips. The Doctor lets out a happy little hum against her mouth and his hands leave his pockets to grasp her by the hips, his thumbs tracing a path to the front of her waistband, where the zipper-teeth won’t quite meet and the button only barely won’t latch.

“Yeah,” says Rose, glancing downward. “I’m gonna need new trousers soon.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I quite like them like this,” replies the Doctor, pulling the zipper down until the top of her pants peeks out. “It’s like a little preview.”

“Cad,” Rose teases.

“You’re not wrong,” the Doctor says thoughtfully, before looking back up at her, his eyes full of mischief. “I am, for instance, thinking about how much better your trousers would look on the floor.”

“Oh, yeah?” Rose asks, a shy smile blossoming across her face. His grin, by contrast, is long and slow and wicked, like a bolt of liquid warmth sent straight between Rose’s thighs.

“Oh, yes,” says the Doctor, and he kisses her.

It’s really a very convincing argument.

 ***

 3.

 Roughly twenty weeks in, and really, Rose can put up with most of this nonsense—granted, the dizziness isn’t fun, the headaches aren’t enjoyable either, the ever-swelling belly makes dressing for the day officially A Challenge™, the heartburn is bordering on intolerable, the morning sickness is more of an any-part-of-the-day sickness, and the leg cramps are no walk in the park either (although a walk in the park does at least help a little)—but what she really can’t stand are these intermittent bursts of bloody awful hormones. 

“What’s wrong?” the Doctor asks in alarm the moment she steps through the front door, sniffling and snuffling and trying to hide her tears and her gross blotchy face from the Doctor and doing it very, very badly. “Rose? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she sniffles as she shucks her boots, fully aware of how pathetic she sounds, and hating herself for it. 

“Are you sure?” asks the Doctor, his face pinched in concern. 

“Yes,” she grumbles, but the Doctor doesn’t seem convinced.

“Are you, though?” he presses, following her as she slumps her way into the kitchen, lowering herself into a dining-room chair. “You’ve been crying. That indicates distress. You’re not hurt, are you? You’re not injured? You’re not sick?”

“I’m fine,” Rose mutters again.

“Are you certain? How’s your temperature? When did you last eat? What did you last eat? You didn’t ingest any deli meat or sushi or come into contact with any cat litter or anything else potentially carrying toxoplasmosis? Are you experiencing any unusual aches or pains? Fluctuations in heartrate? Changes in vaginal discharge—?”

“I said I’m fine!” Rose snaps at him.

The Doctor’s eyes widen, but he stops talking, stops fretting. “Right, you did,” he says quietly, scratching the back of his neck. He steps back and away, his face carefully blank. “Sorry.”

Guilt crashes into Rose like a freight train and just like that, the tears start welling up in her eyes again. “No, I’m sorry,” she says, lower lip trembling, voice watery. “I shouldn’t have snapped. I’m sorry. I just…” she tries to say, and cuts herself off with a sniffle. “I just…”

The Doctor watches her from a safe distance. “Do you need to talk about it?”

“No. I don’t know. It’s just—god, it’s just stupid stuff, but it’s like my brain is going absolutely mad over it,” Rose blurts out. “Just stuff like, they were working on the lift, so I had to use the stairs, and I spilled my tea on the way back down, spilled it all over my shirt—” and she gestures at the front of her blouse, which is indeed no longer pale pink, but now light brown with the ghosts of teastains past— “and that was right before we had that big meeting with Ripley’s team and the French delegates, and I didn’t have anything else to change into, so I had to go in to this big important meeting looking like a total nightmare, and the meeting went on for so fucking long, it was hours, I had to get up to wee like five times.”

She absentmindedly rubs her growing belly-bump, trying to calm herself. “I really liked this shirt,” she continues, sniffling. “One of the only maternity shirts that doesn’t just look like a horrid flowery muumuu. S’like, you get pregnant, and you’re not allowed to try to look pretty any more. You’ve served your purpose, you’re not a woman anymore, now you’re just a whale on a one-way-train to Frumpy Town. Not like I care what other people think but I still want to look in the mirror and be happy with what I see, you know? And god, the taxi smelled so badly of smoke I thought I was going to vomit. That sort of thing never used to bother me, but so many smells do, these days. And I’m a puffy horrid mess, and my hair’s doing funny things, and everything aches, and I know nothing’s wrong, not really, but sometimes it’s like there’s this high-pitched squeal in my head screaming that everything’s bad and awful and scary all the time but I can’t take my anxiety meds anymore cos of the pregnancy—and—and—”

She can feel her face crumpling with effort, straining not to burst into the world’s ugliest wettest snottiest tears right now. “—and I just remembered I ate the last of the raspberry lollies last night,” she says plaintively, her mouth twisting in abject misery. “So we’re out.”

“No, we’re not.”

Rose hiccups, thumbing tears off her cheeks. “What?” she asks thickly.

“We’re not out,” says the Doctor, gesturing to the fridge. “I picked some up on my way home.”

Blinking rapidly, Rose bites her lower lip, hardly daring to hope. “Really?”

“Yeah. I thought you might like a lolly or two after dinner, so I made a stop.” He walks over to the refrigerator, pulls open the freezer door, and plucks out a lolly, extending it her way. “D’you want one now?”

Now Rose’s eyes are filling with tears for a completely different reason, her vision growing suddenly blurry and wet as she fights back the pressure with a sob. Through the haze, she can just barely make out the worry spreading across the Doctor’s face.

“Rose?” he asks, panicked, like he’s afraid he’s done something wrong.

“I love you,” bursts out of Rose’s mouth. She launches herself out of the chair and toward the Doctor, snatching the lolly out of his hand and ripping off its plastic wrapping so she can take a huge bite. And oh—

Oh.

Oh god, it’s good.

The scent of sweet raspberry hits her nostrils, first, with an ice-cold bite that predicts the joys to come. She bites into the treat and her eyes shutter at the delicious tartness of the juices, the cold of the ice, the satisfying crunch-slush of it all. Sweet and tart and cold all sing a delightful harmony in her mouth, washing away the dregs of the unhappy world outside, soothing her aches and pains, painting her mind with calm. Another bite floods her veins with sugary pleasure and cool relief in equal turns, and Rose chokes back tears of pure, unfettered joy. 

“I love you so much,” she sobs.

“Just to be clear,” says the Doctor, a small smile spreading wryly over his face. “Are you talking to the lolly right now, or me?”

“Yes,” says Rose, before taking another bite.

 ***

 4. 

 She doesn’t know if she’s ever seen his eyes grow so comically wide before.

“No,” he chokes out amidst the sirens wailing all around them, waving smoke out of his eyes as he heaves himself up from the debris-strewn floor. “Rose, you shouldn’t have—”

“What?” Rose shoots back, hoisting the giant gun high on her hip. “Come to save your skinny arse?”

“You shouldn’t have risked yourself for me!” the Doctor snaps. “Especially right now!”

“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t have surrendered yourself to hostile forces, so I guess neither of us got what we wanted, huh?”

The Doctor glares at her. “I did what I had to! You, on the other hand—”

“Look, can we argue about all this later?” Rose interrupts, rolling her eyes. She gestures to the door behind her (rather, the “door” she just forcefully improvised thanks to a blast from her giant gun). “My back’s starting to hurt,” she complains.

“Which is precisely why you should have stayed put!” the Doctor retorts, anxiously running his hands through his hair. “I told you this would happen, Rose. I told you people would come after you and the baby—!”

“So what, you decide to offer yourself up instead? Without even talking to me about it?”

“Yes!” he shouts, glaring as he stands over her. “I will do whatever I have to if it keeps you safe, and I don’t require your approval and I sure as hell don’t require your permission! Do you underst—”

An explosion rocks the ship, knocking the Doctor flat against the wall behind him. Her belly big and heavy as it is, Rose’s low center of gravity keeps her pretty well-grounded; she doesn’t budge.

“Right,” she says, as nonchalantly as she can while the ship burns and shakes all around them, “d’you want to keep arguing, or would you maybe like to escape the burning spaceship with your very, very pregnant girlfriend?”

He’s still glaring at her, but there’s a smile threatening to tug at the corner of his mouth now. “Fine,” he says grudgingly, pushing off the wall. “But only because you’re very compelling at eight months pregnant, with a giant weapon.”

Rose laughs, swiveling the gun out of the way so she can plant a hard kiss against the Doctor’s lips. He tastes like soot and dirt and sweat and god, she’s so glad he’s all right. That he’s going to be safe, soon. With her.

“I love you too,” she says, and she grabs his hand, and they run.

 ***

 5. 

 It isn’t like they show it in the movies—or it isn’t quite like that, rather. It takes so much longer, and it’s so much messier, and it’s loud and then quiet and frantic and then calm and there’s sweat and blood and pain but there’s elation, too, even before the nurses place the baby in her arms. It’s all compounded when Rose looks down, seeing her child for the first time, all red in the cheeks, ten little coiled fingers and ten little pruny toes and eyes screwed shut and mouth crying out against the harsh light and sound of this strange new world. Rose holds the wailing baby close and her heart swells so much she’s almost surprised her ribcage isn’t cracked from the force of it.

Tutting through her happy tears, Jackie rubs the baby’s back, murmuring words of reassurance, much like she has been throughout the last several hours. Not for the first time, Rose is immensely grateful for her mother’s attention and support. Jackie was surprisingly calm throughout the entire ordeal. She’s surprisingly soft, now, in a way Rose isn’t sure she’s ever seen her before. Being a grandmother suits her, Rose thinks.

Slowly, the baby quiets and relaxes, heavy and solid against Rose’s chest. She smiles. It’s almost too much to bear, all the love that fills her at the sight of this child. She wonders if the Doctor will feel the same way.

(She is not upset that he’s late. He’s been doing so much better about all this sort of thing these last few months; he wouldn’t miss this without a good reason. It’s simply a matter of when he arrives, she tells herself. When. Not if.)

Rose has half-started dozing off when she finally hears his voice.

“Where is she?” his voice echoes loudly in the hall outside. “Is she all right? Did I miss it? Did—”

The door swings open and there stands the Doctor, mouth open and hair mussed and clothes totally disheveled. Rose watches as he frantically takes it all in—the hospital bed, Rose in the hospital bed, Rose in the hospital bed with a tiny new baby slumbering heavily in her arms.

“You’re here,” Rose says, smiling, her voice dreamy and soft.

The Doctor’s mouth closes and his throat constricts, Adam’s apple bobbing with emotion. His eyes flicker up to Rose’s, and he’s sorry, he’s so sorry, she can see it written across his face as plain as day—but he doesn’t seem able to push the words out. His fists clench and unclench at his sides, nervous and unsure.

Next to the bed, Jackie pats Rose’s hand. “I’ll leave you two to it, shall I?” she says, kissing Rose’s forehead before she rises. On her way out the door, she stops long enough to give the Doctor a quick hug, pecking him on the cheek for good measure afterward. “Congratulations, dad,” she says, her voice fond.

The Doctor can’t seem to respond, can’t even seem to move, his feet glued to their spot on the floor for several long seconds after Jackie leaves. His gaze lingers on the baby, like he’s not quite sure what he’s seeing, somehow, or maybe he just can’t believe it.

“Come on in,” Rose teases. “Stay a while.”

Shaking himself, the Doctor starts. “Rose, I’m so sorry,” he rushes. “I had to deal with these people, these bloody water pirates, and they had all these warships and I met this robot worm and he knew who I was somehow and I got dropped in the ocean and I lost my mobile and I had to steal a boat and I might’ve shot a pirate in the foot and—”

“Doctor?” says Rose, patiently.

“Yes?”

“Tell me about it later?”

“Of course.” He grimaces. “Rose, I really am sorry.”

“I know.” She smiles. “It’s all right.”

“It’s not, though. I should have been here.”

Her heart breaks for him a little. “You should have been out saving the world,” Rose tells him gently.

He looks very much like he doesn’t believe her.

“You didn’t miss much, anyway,” Rose adds. “Just the gross stuff. I actually don’t mind you missing that bit, don’t much fancy you seeing me bleeding everywhere or pooing the bed.”

“Are you all right?” the Doctor asks, pushing a hand anxiously through his hair, which only serves to muss it even further.

Rose nods. “They gave me drugs for the pain. I think it’s the loveliest I’ve ever felt.”

The Doctor laughs humorlessly. “But overall, you’re all right?”

“Yeah, Doctor. I’m fine. I’m gonna be sore for a while. But I’m okay. Really.”

“Okay. Okay. Good. And—”

The Doctor swallows hard, his gaze flickering between Rose and the baby. “And, the child...?”

“Also fine. Would probably like to be called something besides the child, though.”

Relaxing a little, the Doctor laughs again and the sound has a little more warmth this time. “I seem to recall that I generated a good deal of names, only for each of them to be shot down,” he says, scratching the back of his neck.

“It’s got to be something people can pronounce. Human people,” Rose adds before the Doctor can interject. “From Earth. In this century.”

“Cassiopeia’s a perfectly pronounceable name!”

“It’s a mouthful,” Rose laughs.

“And it lends itself very well to diminutives. Cassie, Cass, Cas,” the Doctor continues, counting off a finger for each. “Peia. Cassio.”

“Whatever. Just shut up and get over here, yeah?”

The Doctor smiles. “Yeah,” he says, and he bridges the distance between them, dipping down so he can frame Rose’s face in his hands and pull her in for a kiss. It’s only a little desperate, his hold on her, the slight tremor in his hands; Rose answers by pouring as much love and reassurance into the kiss as she possibly can.

She’s surprised to realize she’s shaking just a little, herself.

After a moment, the Doctor breaks the kiss, one hand cradling the back of her head, his forehead pressed to hers. “I really am sorry,” he says softly.

Nodding, Rose thinks that this would be a good time to reassure him again, let him know he’s forgiven, that what really matters is he’s here now, and he keeps being here. That she knows he needs her, and that’s all right. She needs him, too.

“Hold me?” she says instead, her voice small.

Wordlessly, the Doctor shifts back, lowering the siderail of the bed. Rose expects him to simply lean over the side for a little half-cuddle and is pleasantly surprised when he toes off his shoes and clambers into the bed with her instead, propping himself up on one arm so he can snuggle up against her side, pressing fully against her. The weight of him next to her is comforting, soothing any residual uncertainty or anxiety that might have been lurking in the corners of her mind, and Rose nestles into him gratefully, relishing his solid warmth. She watches him as he reaches out, almost hesitantly, to touch the baby sleeping on her chest, safe and snug between them both.

He gently strokes the baby’s head, his face alight with a quiet wonder, not unlike the expression he wears when stepping onto the surface of a new planet for the first time, Rose thinks. But his gaze is so much tenderer than she ever saw it, any of those times. Soft and open and a little afraid but still so, so full of wonder and awe.

God, she loves him so much.

“You almost forget how small they are,” the Doctor says softly, reaching down to one of the baby’s hands, inspecting five little tight-coiled fingers. “Can you believe all the potential packed inside that tiny little body?”

“It’s pretty incredible,” Rose agrees.

If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was blinking tears out of his eyes as he turns to bury his face in her hair. “You’re incredible,” he says, his voice thick.

Happy contentedness fills Rose’s head like a candyfloss-cloud. “You’re not so bad, yourself,” she says sleepily, and the Doctor chuckles, wiping his eyes.

He loops his arm around her and the baby both, holding them close. He’s unusually quiet as he watches the baby sleep, and Rose wonders if his thoughts are anything to match. Maybe he’s cataloguing everything about their child, about the downy-soft head and warm red cheeks and little button nose, filing every detail away in that massive memory of his, his mind already racing with revelations about the past, how they’ll inform plans and ideas for the future. Or maybe he’s just allowing himself to be present, for once, in the here and the now, with Rose and the baby, no ghosts or worries or unspoken nightmares haunting him for just a handful of moments. Maybe he’s allowing himself these rare few minutes of quiet calm, before the world starts spinning again.

“How long are you gonna stay with us?” Rose murmurs sleepily, and the Doctor’s hold on her tightens.

“Forever,” he says.

******

Find me on AO3 ♥

[moths-and-moonbeams]

Bill Potts and Heteronormativity

(spoiler alert for Doctor Who series 1-10!)

So I’ve been thinking about the criticisms that some people have about Bill Potts; that she’s just a collection of identities rather than a person, that her personality is that she’s gay, that she’s a ‘cliche’. A lot of them essentially boil down to the fact that people think that her gayness was too overt or ‘in your face’. 

I personally think that this view arises as a result of heteronormativity, and I’d like to debunk it.

So, if we break down the mentions of sexuality during other companions’ runs, we are left with the following (I haven’t rewatched all of Doctor Who recently so some of my recollections may be wrong):

Rose: Her boyfriend, Mickey Smith, has a major role in her first episode, including being replaced by an auton. He remains her boyfriend for much of the first series and features in several episodes throughout series 1-2. Her relationship with him is discussed by several characters. She kisses Captain Jack Harkness. Rose also kisses the Doctor during the series 1 finale, in the first episode of series 2, and in the series 4 finale; there is sexual/romantic tension between them, and it is very heavily implied that they are in love with each other. It is heavily implied, if not outright stated, that the metacrisis Doctor goes on to have a relationship with her after series 4.

Martha: In her first episode, she kisses the Doctor. She then proceeds to have an unrequited crush on him throughout the series, although he is still torn up about Rose and doesn’t reciprocate. She goes on to have a relationship with Thomas Milligan, and later marries Mickey Smith.

Donna: Is literally transported into the Doctor’s TARDIS during her wedding; the prospective groom ends up being one of the villains of her first episode, and she wears a wedding dress throughout. She and the Doctor constantly assert that they are just friends. She is seen to have relationships with several people in the later half of series 4 and during the series 4 specials, one of whom she is due to marry.

Amy: After the Doctor meets her as an adult, her relationship status is discussed - her then boyfriend, Rory Williams, features in the first episode. She starts to properly travel with the Doctor during the night before her wedding. She attempts to kiss the Doctor. After this, the Doctor interrupts Rory’s stag night to pick him up, and the trio travel together. Series 5 ends with Amy and Rory’s wedding. Their child, River Song, also plays a major role in the show, even going on to marry the Doctor. Amy allows a Weeping Angel to transport her to the past so that she can be with her husband.

Clara: Is in a relationship with Danny Pink in series 8; his death gives rise to the events in the series 8 finale, which he then plays a rather major role in. Her relationship status creates tension between her and the Doctor, who disapproves of Danny Pink. Viewers have observed sexual tension between her and the Eleventh Doctor.

Bill: Mentions being attracted to women early on in her first episode. Her crush on Heather sets up a lot of the events in the first episode; Heather then returns during the series 10 finale to rescue Bill; Bill and Heather kiss. Bill’s attraction to women is mentioned a couple of times during the series. At the beginning of Extremis, she is seen to go on a date with Penny.

It is evident that there are no major differences in the depictions of the companions’ sexualities, or at least the extent to which their sexual orientations are discussed and shown on screen. The main difference is that Bill is a lesbian - her sexual orientation stands out more as it breaks heteronormative expectations, and discussions of her sexuality have to be more explicit to some extent so that viewers do not assume that she is straight/etc.

(note: I am aware that Clara is implied to be bisexual from a very blink-and-you’ll-miss-it line about Jane Austen being a good kisser, and that Billie Piper has stated that Rose would still be in love with the Thirteenth Doctor, making her bisexual, but Bill is still the only openly LGBTQ+ main companion)

[lockdownfest]

Lock Down Fest Masterpost PART I (20-30 March)

1917

feed me just enough that i’ll never need a cage by Cunninglinguist. (E) 7.4k,  Tom Blake/William Schofield. “Come on.” Sco stops walking, runs a hand over the faintest marking on a tree trunk. “It’s just a little farther now.” “I’m coming.” Tom huffs a sigh, yanking his shotgun strap over his shoulder so the barrel lands in his hands. They’ve been on the road for nearly a week now, an unfortunate consequence of their last shelter getting swarmed by an army of dead ones. Though skinning rabbits to eat over hastily made fires and taking turns sleeping against trees, spending the days and nights consumed with fear, and jumping each time a stick cracked were hardly desirable circumstances, it certainly wasn’t their longest or harshest stint on the run. They had endured worse, by far, and Tom had no doubt that this particular stretch of time would come to an end when Sco said it would. He knows the way, he always knows the way. Plus, Tom wouldn’t want to spend this time with anyone else in the entire world.

If The World Was Ending by RisingShadows. (not rated) 3.7k, Tom Blake/William Schofield.  When a dangerous virus begins spreading across the country William Schofield and Tom Blake quickly find themselves the last two standing of the team working in their lab.

AKB48

#unmeida by summoninglupine. (G), 788 words. Sashihara Rino/Watanabe Mayu, Kashiwagi Yuki/Watanabe Mayu.  Ready for an all-girl vacation in Okinawa, Watanabe Mayu doesn't see why she has to be the one to nursemaid their sick tour guide. Things would be different, she is sure, if Yuki was there!

ALL FOR THE GAME

I see truth somewhere in your eyes by DeyaAmaya. (M) 2.8k, Kevin Day/Thea Muldani, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, other background relationships. In a moment of insanity, Kevin decides to check Instagram. In the multitude of inane celebrity posts telling the mass people to stay home, he finds a lovely, recent photography of Thea. Someone from their College took it. The lighting perfectly captured the dried tear tracks down her unmoving face. Kevin disregards the emotional caption and instead checks the date. 18 March, the night he-  (The night he thought he had a hallucination.)

Quarantine and exy by Fornavn.  FANART. (G) 116 words, Andrew/Neil.  The monsters is stuck at home while coved-19 is terrorizing the world. They are bored.

ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

Alone and in a Circumstance by middlemarch. (T) 700 words, Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley, Marilla Cuthbert & Anne Shirley, Diana Barry & Anne Shirley. Anne had a key, so she let herself in, quiet as a mouse, arms laden with bags from the market. Her sophomore class's papers on A Tale of Two Cities were poking out almost jauntily from the quilted bag Diana got her for her birthday.

AVENGERS ASSEMBLE

Worry by Neverever. (T) 2.4k, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark.  During the pandemic, Steve wants help the best he can but immuno-compromised Tony worries about his company and his health.

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

Poetry and Plants by the_many_splendored. (T) 1.9k, Adam/Belle. It's amazing how much you can open up to a person when you're locked in a bookstore reading together.

BELLEVUE

Knives and Lighters by goreds. (M) 2.1k, Annie Ryder/Peter Welland.  Annie Ryder finds herself in Bellevue's psychiatric hospital. She pretends to tolerate the whole experience, even if she really hates it. When a new, quiet guy comes to the ward, though, she finds herself intrigued.

BLACK SAILS

If this is Our Last Night by remuirius. (E) 2.3k, Captain Flint/John Silver. Silver and Flint are locked up together on the Walrus. Certain of their looming death at an enraged crew’s hands, Silver finds the courage to do things he’d only dreamed of until now.

BLACKKKLANSMAN

Someone Like Him by cowboykylux. (M) 2.2k, Flip Zimmerman/Reader. 'If there was one thing true more than anything else about all the reasons you loved him, it was that once your husband had his heart set on something, he was going to accomplish it.' Or, a sudden snow-storm cancels your plans for a date, and Flip Zimmerman decides that nothing, not even snow, will get in the way of treating you to something special.

BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA

Tell me it won’t always be this hard by Graendal. (T) 4.3k, Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto. He’d met Midoriya a few months ago during a field trip to the library. The kids had adored him, of course, even the ones who were usually shy about participating in new activities. Midoriya had a way of projecting a sense of all-encompassing safety and comfort with just his smile.Shouto had adored him too, maybe, even back then. A silly crush that had only grown during every subsequent field trip — which is truly absurd, considering the vast majority of their interactions at the time consisted of occasional eye contact while singing children’s songs.But now that they’ve spent hours talking almost every day for the past few weeks… calling it a silly crush might be an understatement. The idea that he’s actually been able to help Midoriya through this is inordinately pleasing.If there’s a silver lining to this at all — for him personally, at least — it’s that he’d seen Midoriya’s post requesting a virtual board game buddy. And that Midoriya is a patient enough person to teach Shouto how to play everything from scratch. He’d actually seemed excited at the opportunity.Maybe the opportunity for any sort of ongoing social interaction is worthy of excitement. These are strange times.

CALL THE MIDWIFE

Sanctuary (In Each Other) by WednesdayGilfillian. (T) 2.6k, Bernadette-Shelagh Turner/Patrick Turner. Set during the Christmas Special in S2. Specifically, during the unsettled night that Shelagh turned up on Patrick's doorstep.

CAPTIVE PRINCE

When We Went from Strangers to This by Aerica_Menai. (T) 3.5k, Damen/Laurent. Laurent is really sick, and decides to shut himself in his apartment and deal with it alone. His downstairs neighbor, Damen, gets worried enough to check on him, which went just fine - and then Damen got himself locked in. Featuring Star Trek TOS, coming outs both accidental and intentional, and Damen being his usual sunshine puppy self.

DCU

would you lie with me by Glove23. (G) 660 words, Diana (Wonder Woman)/Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne. Bruce catches a virus, and Diana and Clark come to help him.

DEADPOOL/SPIDERMAN

Avengers Monopoly by MsCaptainWinchester. (E) 1.4k, PeterParker/Wade Wilson, James “Bucky” Barnes/Steve Rogers. The Avengers are quarantined in Avengers Tower, and Peter and Wade see this as the perfect opportunity to try the new Avengers Monopoly set. They have their own house rules for property negotiation. No one told Tony. Oops?

omg they were quarantined by Jdragon122, LunaStories. (M) 2.6k, Peter Parker/Wade Wilson. Spidey has a cold and Deadpool, being the sexy boyfriend he is, goes to take care of his baby boy. But they're under quarantine and oh no, there's no more lube? What should they do?

Superheroes Don’t Get Scared by DefendersofMCUniverse. (T) 3.6k,  Peter Parker/Wade Wilson. Peter, fresh out of college, gets invited to the tower to stay in one of the guest floors that has been left unoccupied for some time since the previous tenant ‘hero’ decided to leave for unknown reasons. Of course, a few weeks into living there and getting into a routine, the last hero pops onto his balcony. Peter offers for him to stay on his old floor because the dude looks like he could use a familiar place, and also dude is kinda terrifying, and like hell he is gonna admit that to the other heroes in the tower.

DETROIT: BECOME HUMAN

Games. Family. Love. by heizl, NickEllis1314. (G) 1.8k, Carl Manfred & Markus. Because of some rebellious protesters, Androids, and owners of said Androids, were ordered to stay inside. It'd been a long day of restlessness, and boredom, and Markus was almost genuinely excited to get Carl to bed so it could all finally be over. Carl wasn't exactly tired yet though, so they reminiscence for awhile.

DOCTOR WHO

What We Did During Our Quarantine by badxwolfxrising. (M) 4.6k WIP, Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler. Rose and the Metacrisis Doctor return to Torchwood from Bad Wolf Bay and are placed in a mandatory 72 hour quarantine. However will they pass the time? }:-)

DRAGON AGE II

shaking fingers, open palms by asexualf. (T) 2.4k, Fenris/Merrill. Kirkwall has issued her people remain in their homes until the sickness overtaking the city is gone. As always, the Alienage suffers the most under this new rule - and those who enforce it.

EXTRACURRICULAR ACTIVITIES

Three in a room by Tagus Knoll. (T, Underage) 4.6k, Kazuto/Darius Maynor/Chester Hayes. When Kazuto finds out they all have to be in the same room, he didn't expect that Chester, Darius and him end up dating.

FALL OUT BOY

‘Cause Everything Else is a Substitute for your Love by PadawanRyan. (G) 1.9k, Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz.  Patrick and Pete are each self-isolating with their kids during the coronavirus pandemic but well, Patrick’s in Chicago and Pete’s in LA.

quarantine, or: how to land a boyfriend in 14 days by TooRational. (T) 6k, Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz.  Patrick turns his head in Pete's direction and sees him, Patrick sees him, and his frown goes up a notch, and a fisted hand settles on one hip in that typical Patrick-is-a-grandma-pose, and Pete grins and runs full-tilt into Patrick's arms, disbalancing them both until they slam into the side of the house, tangled and half-frozen and definitely soon-to-be-bruised. He interrupts whatever rant Patrick had prepared that starts with 'you idiot' by tucking his frozen nose into Patrick's neck and sucking the warm air coming from Patrick's skin into greedy lungs, and grins even wider when Patrick yelps, offended as he always is by a breach of his personal space.

FIRE EMBLEM SERIES

Shelter from the Storm by Dameceles. (T) 4k, Elincia Ridell Crimea/Tibarn.  It's a dark and stormy night when Elincia lends aid to Tibarn. He wants to return the favor, but she doesn’t have wings.

FRONTIER

Fever 1793 by goreds. (M, MCD) 2k, Samuel Grant, Cobb Ponds. Cobbs Pond and Samuel Grant experience the yellow fever epidemic in Philadelphia, 1793. One of them gets better.

FROZEN

It all comes out in the wash by middlemarch. (G) 1.1k, Anna/Kristoff.  She'd knocked. Really, she had. It was their en suite bathroom, the room he said was over-the-top and extravagant and aggressively tiled, so it wasn't exactly her fault that she'd effectively barged in on him.

GAME OF THRONES

The Luckiest Man in the Whole F***ing World by OrangeTabby. (M) 7.2k, Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark. Sandor Clegane is in isolation at home after picking up the virus in the line of duty. Luckily, he’s got his cat for company and plenty of rubbish TV to stream. Then Stranger decided to go next door for a visit…. A story about friendship, food, romance and dubious television. And a pandemic.

GARGOYLES

Cabin Holiday by Isimile. (M) 1.2k, David Xanatos/Janine “Fox” Xanatos, Owen Burnett/ David Xanatos/Janine “Fox” Xanatos.  After everything that happened, they decide to spend a week away in a cabin, to relax and to perhaps talk about their relationship. They're unexpectedly snowed in, which triggers memories of the Unseelie War.

GILMORE GIRLS

How dare the robins sing by middlemarch. (T) 900 words, Rory Gilmore/Jess Mariano, Dean Forester/Rory Gilmore, Dean Forester & Jess Mariano, Luke Danes & Jess Mariano. The two of them, the diner, for how long? At least the coffee shipment had made it in time. What he wouldn't have given for a fifth of Jack-- or anyone else. Literally, anyone.

HAIKYUU!!

Anchor by farfetched. (G) 5.3k, Semi Eita/Tendou Satori. Spreading their arms out either side of them, they stare at the ceiling. This is pulling on them in so many ways they didn't expect; laying here, on Tendou's floor, in Tendou's clothes, right down to their underwear because who expects a lockdown to get enforced overnight? They didn't bring anything much. They should have. They ought to chance going home. But they can't, so they don't. Home is an empty place right now anyway, and here there is food and laughter and music and in between all that is their realisation that they're not so over this Tendou thing after all.

Lockdown by needles. (T) 1.5k, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru.  You never know what will escape from a box when you open it, just ask Pandora. For some it may be a disaster, for Iwaizumi could it be a golden opportunity?

Lockdown With A Fox by runningfromrealitytoanime. (T) 4.1k, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi.  Sakusa Kiyomi was a very careful person when it came to cleanliness so what happens if a certain setter with no sense of hygiene crashes at his place when Japan goes under a 2 week lockdown period?

HANNIBAL

Crumbles of unfulfilled expectations by Cinnamaldeide. (M) 11.9k, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter and other multi. Collection of ficlets of the length of a tweet or two ❀

Professor Graham’s Cheekbones Hotty & Extraordinary Foodie Husband by TheSilverQueen. (T) 3.3k,  Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter. Online classes due to the quarantine are Professor Graham's students learn that: 1) Professor Graham has a cute dog; 2) Professor Graham is married; and 3) Professor Graham's husband is smoking hot.

HARRY POTTER

A Long Night on The Bus by CuriousEmWanders. (E) 3.5k, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter. In which Draco & Harry are Auror partners stuck on a bus overnight. Draco has some memories that cause him to make some choices. Smut ensues, obviously.

A Pandemic by Theodore_Writes. (T) 611 words WIP, Luna Lovegood & Weasley Family. A new strain of Dragon Pox breaks out becoming a global pandemic. Many were unaware due to Fudge covering it up in an attempt to look better as a minister but when Xenophilius Malfoy/Lovegood reveals to his long time friend Arthur Weasley about what is happening around the world the entire Weasley family is horrified and takes immediate action. This is the story of what happens when a pandemic hits the Magical and Muggle world's.

A Welcome Distraction by MaesterChill. (E) 2.9k, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter.  Draco and Harry get trapped in a Ministry lift. Whatever shall they do to distract themselves?

An Intangible Embrace by Drarrelie. (G) 365 words, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter.  Harry is bored. Thank Merlin his husband had finally agreed to start using Muggle mobiles after Score was born, or he would've surely gone mad now.

And on the Seventh Day... by slytherco. FANART. (T) 0 words,  During an Auror raid, Harry and Draco are separated from their partners and end up being hunted by the wrong people. Desperate times require desperate measures, so both men are sent to an unmarked location where a temporary safe house was set up for them. Stuck for Merlin knows how long, they have plenty of time to examine their turbulent relationship.

“Are you sure you know how to play that?” by julchen_in_red. FANART. (G) 0 words, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter. Harry and Draco offer comfort and entertainment to their neighborhood under lockdown by performing a traditional wizards' evening ballad on their balcony.

Better Side of the Bed by gnarf. (T) 2k, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter.  It was all Malfoy's fault. Harry could be at the Burrow right now, but instead he was trapped in Malfoy's tiny flat. All because that dick couldn't stop bothering him about a stupid life debt he didn't even care about.

Breaking Point by Drarrelie. (T) 365 words, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter.  After almost two years as Auror partners, they've learned to function quite well together most of the time. Right now, though, Malfoy seems to be more on edge than ever.

Civil Hands (Unclean) by p1013. (E) 8.5k, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter. While he and Malfoy reached something like a truce in the years between the end of the War and now, their Quidditch rivalry has only grown. And with it, a simmering tension that is absolutely not sexual, no matter how many times Hermione raises her eyebrow when Harry's drinking at her and Ron's house. Not even when his head is resting on the kitchen table next to his empty glass, and he's moaning about Draco bloody Malfoy, and his bloody perfect seat on a broom, and his bloody perfect technique.But as Harry stares over his teammates heads towards the Puddlemere United bench, he catches a flash of wet white-blond hair and flashing grey eyes, and he thinks that Hermione's eyebrow might have a point.

Conservation for Beginners by Aneiria. (E) 4.6k, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy. Hermione Granger didn't think twice about taking guardianship of Hoddholm Island for the summer. A deserted, peaceful island among the endangered Golden Snidgets is just what she needs to escape the anxieties that the end of the war brought with it. When Draco Malfoy arrives as the other guardian and they are left to themselves for a month, they both seem to be struggling in their own ways. Can they be there for each other when they most need it?

Exposure by Bridgette_Hayden. (M) 2.6k, Harry Potter/Severus Snape.  Snape and Harry volunteer to quarantine themselves for charity, and to comfort the world. Isolation leaves them feeling exposed. 

Flames by Aneiria. (E) 3.9k, Hermione Granger/Theodore Nott, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy/Theodore Nott, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy/Theodore Nott.  The whole of the Ministry of Magic and its workers are forced into an in-place lockdown quarantine following a magical accident at the DMLE. When Hermione Granger and Theo Nott are put into isolation away from their boyfriend, Draco Malfoy, how will the triad cope?

G Guess I'm Stuck With You by LittleSixx. (T) 4k, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy.  Draco and Hermione are stuck in a Ministry lift on New Year's Eve.

In a Week by Suchsmallhands. (M, MCD) 12.4k, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin.  Sirius goes under quarantine in his flat, but fortunately he was able to get some reading material and a friend to keep him occupied during isolation.

Into the Wine Cellar by vivi1138. (E) 2.5k, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter.  Harry should know better than to touch random objects that do not belong to him. Getting stuck in a cellar with Malfoy, of all people, leads to an interesting development.

Lockdown with the Malfoys by a_reader_and_writer. (G) 1.2k, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy. Dracos's parents are just visiting Harry and Draco for their weekly dinner when the Ministry of Magic announces a total lockdown. Awkward situations happen.

Lockdown Husband by Houseofmalfoy. (T) 4.7k,  Rodolphus Lestrange/Augustus Rookwood.��"Got ready to leave after a hook-up for the guy to break the news that we’re on lockdown. We’re stuck together. this is the start of my bad rom-com."

Risk and Reward by nagemeikenu. (G) 2.6k, Rodolphus Lestrange/Augustus Rookwood. Augustus (Gus) Rookwood manages to survive completely alone in a burned down cabin for nearly three weeks. He's rescued by a gorgeous state trooper. Fluff ensues.

She’s A Rainbow by Ladderofyears. (M) 4.8k, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter.  Draco never dreamt that he'd have to give birth without Harry, but when his beloved husband is put under MACUSA quarantine, he finds that he doesn't have a choice. With all the bravery he can muster, the best friend in the whole world and a pilfered magic mirror, Draco discovers that hope can be found even when you least expect it.

Stay with me through the storm by Pinkelephant42. FANART. (NR) 23 words, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter.  Dragon Keeper Draco finds ways to keep his boyfriend Harry on the dragon retreat longer. Harry probably doesn’t mind.

Ten below and falling by agentmoppet. (E) 8.6k, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter.  In which a pandemic results in Harry being locked in the Astronomy tower with Malfoy while they struggle to find the cure.

The Question of When by Misdemeanor1331. (G) 5.3k, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy.  When a global pandemic emerges, Draco and Hermione are once again called upon to discover a vaccine.

Unlikely Quarantine fellows by Isimile. (T) 861 words, Neville Longbottom & Blaise Zabini.  Neville and Blaise are quarantined together following an accident in their potions class and they get talking.

HAWAII FIVE-O

Spring Break by stephmex. (T) 3.5k, Steve McGarrett/Danny Williams.  Danny had been looking forward to this trip for weeks, ever since the Christmas holidays when he had planned the Spring Break vacation together with Grace. But as much as he’d been looking forward to it, boarding the plane with Charlie's small hand grasped tightly in his own feels slightly off. One thing feeling off is this stupid new virus that you just can’t ignore because the news coverage is all over the place. The other thing feeling off goes by the name of Steve—and Danny is leaving him behind with insomnia and a concussion and the sure knowledge that there is something that Steve is not telling him.

HOUSE OF CARDS

Skilled Hands and Talented Tongues by goreds. (M) 1.2k, Remy Danton/Jackie Sharp/Alan Cooke. Frank Underwood's made enemies, so it's no surprise that Jackie Sharp and Remy Danton get locked down due to a threat during one of their meetings at the White House. But Alan Cooke's there too, which just creates a brand new dynamic.

IT

Isolated by Slashaddict96. (T) 1.3k, Connor Bowers/Richie Tozier.  Richie and his parents get stuck isolated at the hospital when a dangerous outbreak occurs. What's worse it's with his least favorite person

IWATOBI SWIM CLUB (MAZE RUNNER CROSSOVER)

Free from the Maze by runningfromrealitytoanime. (Graphic Depictions of Violence, MCD). 33k, WIP, Gen.  Haru finds himself without his memories except for his name before he was chucked into the Glade populated entirely by boys. As he tries to make sense of his new life amongst the Gladers, Haru realizes there is only one goal in mind: to run and escape the Maze.

KINGSMAN

Rarely Pure and Never Simple by andthenshesaid-write. (T) 2.3k, Harry Hart/Gary “Eggsy” Unwin.  Eggsy and Harry get stuck in a train. Some important things need to be said.

LITTLE WOMEN

a party hardly ever goes the way it is planned by middlemarch. (G) 900 words, Theodore Laurence/Amy March, Friedrich Bhaer/Josephine March.  Teddy had written she must come. He had run out of arguments.

Distances by MercuryGray. (G) 1.5k WIP, John Brooke/Margaret March.  A Modern March AU - In the midst of global pandemic, the March and Brooke families are trying hold it together.

MCU

Bracing by babywarg. (G) 2.5k, Tony Stark/Stephen Strange. In which Tony Stark makes a few declarations in response to a disease outbreak, and brooks no dissent.

Must Love Dogs (Right Here at the End of the Line) by bookjunkiecat. (G) 2.3k, Bucky & PTSD, Bucky & Pal (dog), Bucky & Steve.  During the virus pandemic, an already fragile Bucky has to venture out to pick up more of his very necessary meds. Returning home, he has a panic attack and retreats into an alley. While there he rescues a dog...or rather, the dog rescues him. Once he calms down, Bucky calls a veternarian's office, and reaches a warm, calm man named Steve.

Take Two by heyjupiter. (T) 14.1k, Bruce Banner/Tony Stark. When Tony Stark is injured in Afghanistan, he wakes up in captivity to find that a mysterious American doctor has plugged his heart into a car battery and saved his life. Tony is determined to repay the favor; when he escapes from the Ten Rings, he's taking Bruce Banner with him.

MERCY STREET

I took my Power in my hand by middlemarch. (G) 1.9k, Jedediah Foster/Mary Phinney.  It wouldn't do to consider just what it was that had spilled. It was war, it was a kitchen with a corrupt steward, it was a rapidly warming April in Virginia and the man she wasn't supposed to have any finer feelings for was looking at her quizzically.

MERLIN

Merlin Versus Quarantine by coconutknightshade. (T) 1.3k WIP, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon, Leon/Morgana. Merlin isn't quite 50 Shades of Done with Quarantine, but he and Arthur do have dry-erase "Day's Since Last Meltdown" boards mounted in the kitchen.

The Night Is So Long When Everything’s Wrong by Hum My Name. (G) 4.2k, Merlin & Arthur Pendragon. One month after banishing Merlin, Arthur's given a message in the form of a dirty red neckerchief. His ex-manservant's been captured and the captors want the king to pay the ransom.Going after Merlin is the easy part. Spending a long night in a small cell with no one but Merlin with him is a bit more difficult.

MIRACULOUS LADYBUG

Love Bug by onetruthree. (T) 3.3k, Chat Noir & Marinette Dupain-Cheng.  Marinette feels the safest with her friends by her side. But when the dead come back to life, that safety is tested.

Quiet by BookGirlFan. (G) 669 words, Chat Noir & Ladybug. Ladybug and Chat Noir sit on a rooftop in an empty Paris.

MIRAGE

Murder Scarecrow and His Pissed-Off Handler by goreds. (M) 1.7k, Gabriel Taylor/Doug Marsh. Gabriel screwed up a fairly simple mission, and now he and Doug are trapped in a tiny safe house somewhere in Eastern Europe. Sort-of romance ensues.

NCT

I Go Where You Go by CocoaBop. (T) 5k, Dong Si Cheng/Lee Taeyong. Taeyong thought he was prepared for another global pandemic. But this pandemic was different. In just a few weeks of isolation, Sicheng went from the shy, awkward roommate Taeyong rarely saw to his only anchor to the outside world.

OCEAN’S 8

Every Princess Needs a Castle by ShadowHaloedAngel. (T) 1.3k, Lou Miller/Debbie Ocean. Being stuck inside is sending Debbie a little bit crazy, even though she knows it's for a good reason. Fortunately she has Lou and a foster dog to help keep her sane.

Your Princess Is In Another Castle by ShadowHaloedAngel. (T) 3.3k, Nine Ball/Tammy. Nine Ball decides if she's going to be locked down, she'd rather it was with Tammy and her kids.

ONE DIRECTION

and the sun will shine by leighbot. (G) 5.1k, Zayn Malik/Harry Styles. They're practicing self-isolation during the COVID-19 pandemic. Two little boys shouldn't be too hard to entertain, right?

PITCH PERFECT

Basic Sickness by CamGray. (M), 1.3k, Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell. Chloe snaps the mask over her face and replies, “I was always smart, you just weren’t paying attention.  Vet school didn’t hurt either.  Now come on.  I’m going to rest, why don’t you go get some work done.  You can’t nanny me all day.  You’ve got more important things to do.” Beca shakes her head.  “What could be more important than this?”  She says, stressing each syllable.

Dry Spell by aliciameade. (E) 2.7k, Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell. Tumblr prompt: Just imagine Beca and Chloe casually watching a porno together and when I say “casually” I mean “getting horny and ending up doing it right there.”

High-Speed Connection by aliciameade. (E) 4.1k, Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell, Chloe Beale/Aubrey Posen, Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell/Aubrey Posen. So Beca is a bit of an exhibitionist. So what? What could possibly happen when she decides to play with Chloe while she Skypes with Aubrey?Sin. Sin is what happens.

Ready Or Not by aliciameade. (E) 4.6k, Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell. In a time of social-distancing, Beca and Chloe finally find a way to pass the time.

She’s Such a Bad Girl by CamGray. (E) 711 words, Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell. “Chloe!” Chloe pauses her singing to call back to Beca. “Yes, love of my life?” Beca rounds the corner. “You’ve sung ‘Work From Home’ every day for the past 128 days. You know I love your singing voice, but can you please, for the love of the Carona gods, do something else.” Chloe pouts. “Well what should I do?”“I don’t know. I’m about to clean the house.” Chloe flips her hair flirtatiously and rests her arms loosely on Beca’s shoulders before saying, “You do too much. You’re not Superman you know.”

Watch Our Bodies Intertwine by tmylm. (E) 7.2k,  Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell.  Beca and Chloe are quarantined (yes, another "and they were quarantined!" fic) in Beca's Los Angeles home. Beca has managed to push away the feelings she harbored for Chloe back in college—they're adults now, she can behave herself. Or so she thinks.

you are my favorite thing by iPhone. (M) 3.2k. Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell.  Beca and Chloe find themselves alone in their apartment after the instruction comes to self-isolate. Set pre-PP3. Just pretend PP3 doesn’t exist.

POLDARK

Tenderness is not like money by middlemarch. (T) 599 words, Demelza Carne/Ross Poldark, Demelza Carne & Dwight Enys.  What was the real crime?

QUEEN

Stay Right Where You Are by Stormtrooperinclogs. (T) 2k, John Deacon/Brian May, Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor.  Brian and John are under government-mandated quarantine because of the virus. What are they gonna do???

RED WHITE & ROYAL BLUE

bend the rules by perfect-porcelain. (E) 6.8k,  Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor.  Alex is stuck inside with his roommate Liam and Liam's boyfriend Spencer and he thinks he's going to go insane but when his neighbor in the alleyway across from his window moves in he supposes that the quarantine won't be so bad after all.

Just Checking In by JessJesstheBest. (G) 1k, Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor.  In an au where COVID-19 happens to Henry and Alex, they try and stay connected through self-isolation.

SHADOWHUNTERS

Malec Malaise by Fluxx. (G) 2.9k, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood.  Magnus has a cold! In the absence of his magic, it seems he managed to catch some common Mundane bug. Well, that should be fine. Nothing a little rest and tea can't take care of... right?

SHERLOCK

Going Viral by trillian_jdc. (G) 1.1k WIP, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade.  Mycroft Holmes has been exposed to the coronavirus and prepares to self-quarantine, which he's very used to. His isolation is accidentally interrupted by Greg Lestrade, who winds up sheltering in place with him.

Thank You John by AnAnYaH. (G), 352 words, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson.  Quarantine day fic.

SHETLAND

Remote Communities by aurorlaura. (T) 3.4k, Duncan Hunter/Jimmy Perez.  Jimmy Perez, Duncan Hunter and their daughter Cassie experience the Covid-19 lockdown in Shetland.

STAR TREK: PICARD

Of Malady and Mother by Boldlynyooming. (G) 4.1k, Elnor & Zani. There was an outbreak of Beluxian flu on Vashti, and Elnor was not allowed to go out.

STAR TREK: VOYAGER

Confined To Quarters by ShayneyL. (E) 1.6k, Harry Kim/Tom Paris. Tom and Harry are in trouble again. Will they find a way to entertain themselves while confined to quarters? (Spoiler: yes.)

Social Distance by MiaCooper. (T) 1.2k, Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway. The terrible trials of a captain in quarantine.

STAR WARS

Fever of Love by ladyofreylo. (E) 8.1k, Rey/Flip Zimmerman.  Rey and Flip shelter in the library overnight during a flu epidemic. Rey believes Flip is part of a racist group, and Flip can't tell Rey he's undercover because it jeopardizes his investigation. He asks her to trust him. Will she? And will she allow him to help her friend's brain-damaged brother escape the clutches of the evil organization?

I Know You by Idrilhadhafang. (M) 739 words, WIP, Poe Dameron/Kylo Ren.  After a dogfight outside the Raddus, Poe Dameron and Kylo Ren are trapped on a planet below, with no memories for either of them and only being able to rely on each other.

Please don’t take him just because you can by middlemarch. (T), 911 words, Finn & Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Finn & Rey & Rose Tico. It wasn't a terrible job, it was the pandemic. Rey kept telling herself that, hoping she'd believe it. Or that it would all turn out to be a bad dream caused by eating government cheese before bed. Still, there were bright spots.

Something To Look Forward To by spacewitchqueen. (G) 1k, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren.  While self-isolating, Kylo manages to make a new acquaintance. Perhaps even a new friend? Perhaps in time something more.

There’s been a Death, in the opposite house by middlemarch.  (G) 100 words, Kylo Ren/Rey.  Crisis was supposed to bring out the best in people. That was the silver lining, Rey was pretty sure that was the line anyway.

STAR WARS LEGENDS

Cabin Fever by Keldae. (G) 1k, Gen. Theron hates being locked down in one location on the best of days. Being isolated with only a Sith Lord, an irate Wookiee, and (the head of) a protocol droid that won't shut up for company? He's pretty sure he's in at least the second Corellian hell.

Pinned Down by Keldae. (T) 696 words, Female Jedi Knight/Theron Shan.  The only option is to stay hidden inside and hope for a rescue.

The Waiting Game by Greyias. (T) 4.4k, Female Jedi Knight/Theron Shan, Satele Shan & Theron Shan. The worst part about all of this was the waiting. Theron hated standing on the sidelines as everyone else risked their lives. He needed something to do. Anything to keep him distracted from his own thoughts.

SUPERGIRL

Darkest Before The Dawn by Val_Creative. (T) 1.4k, Kara Danvers/Lena Luther.  Lena ends up diagnosed with a serious virus. Kara gets a little panicky about this and worries enough to visit her.

SUPERNATURAL

Fourteen Days and Four Dozen Eggs by Mandala Rose. (E) 5.6k, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester.  As the Milton-Winchester household prepare to hunker down and #flattenthecurve, Dean makes a trip to the grocery store, for what was supposed to be their normal weekly grocery run. After all, they aren't the kind of people to panic and over-buy, right?

Hickory Dickory Dean by Carrieosity. (M) 2k,  Castiel/Dean Winchester.  When Castiel's library has to close because of the coronavirus pandemic, the librarians need to get a little creative in order to keep serving the community. Castiel has no problem recording virtual storytimes, but when it comes to adding in songs and things, he needs to call in a little extra help.

Knock by hit_the_books. (E) 2.5k, Castiel/Dean Winchester, past Dean Winchester/Lisa Braeden. Dean and Cas have been living together as roommates for about a year when the COVID-19 pandemic forces Douglas County health officials to issue a "stay at home" order. With Dean working from home and Cas trapped there with him, Dean starts to realize that he doesn't really know much about the younger man he's living with. And then he knocks on and opens up Cas's bedroom door one day and discovers far more than he was expecting.

It'll Be Fine. by ChloeDarling. (G) 1.4k,  Castiel/Dean Winchester.  Forced to self-isolate, Castiel finds himself succumbing to the boredom as he runs out of ways to keep himself entertained. Luckily, Dean Winchester has a plan to save the day.

Next Time, I Choose Death by CeliPuff, Winchesterlovr0508. (M) 1.2k,  Castiel/Dean Winchester.  In light of this pandemic, I decided to write some daily journal entries on how we survived the 14 day quarantine. It’s me, my brother and my best friend, what can go wrong?

No Dent by spnsmile. FANFIC AND FANART (E) 7k, Castiel/Dean Winchester. Because the Impala is the best place to lock Dean and Castiel away when in the middle of another fight. They really need to talk and close the distance created by their stubborn heads. At least, Jack thought so.

Throw Away the Key by CeliPuff, Ketch22. (E) 2.1k WIP,  Castiel/Dean Winchester. multiple other relationships. After his father dies and leaves him nothing but the coolest car ever manufactured, the whole world turns to shit. Caught in the middle of a pandemic while attending the funeral, Dean is told he can’t return home and has to find somewhere else to ride out the mandatory month-long quarantine. Out of options, he calls his best friend Benny.Cas has lived with Benny for awhile - the bed was comfy, rent was cheap... the orgies were just a bonus. It wasn’t a half-bad place to live out a permanent bachelor lifestyle, or an irritating lockdown - but he’s about to get more than he bargained for when Benny takes in a stray.

Outbreak 2019 by spnsmile. FANFIC AND FANART (T) 1.7k, Castiel/Dean Winchester.  There's a spreading virus around and against it the medical staff are in the front lines. Castiel is a doctor and he just texted his husband he's positive of the virus.He awaits his fate in silence thinking of Dean.

THE 100

In Fair Corona by eternaleponine. (M) 8.3k, Clarke Griffin/Lexa. While returning from a service trip abroad, Lexa volunteers to take another flight when theirs is overbooked, and Clarke is forced to accompany her. When someone on the flight gets sick, they find themselves quarantined far from home with only each other for company. Can they overcome their differences and realize that they're in this together?

THE AVENGERS/MASS EFFECT TRILOGY

Stuck with You by sgteam14283. (G) 3.3k WIP, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Female Ryder/James Vega, Kaidan Alenko/Female Shepard. Adults can handle being stuck somewhere for a long period of time. For the most part.

THE EXPANSE

How to Have Fun in Quarantine at the UN by goreds. (M) 1.4k, Chrisjen Avasarala/Sadavir Errinwright, Arjun/Chrisjen Avasarala.  Chrisjen Avasarala and the whole of the United Nations, including Sadavir Errinwright, are on lockdown during a pandemic. Mild non-social distancing ensues.

THE FLASH

Between Hope and Fear by Purpleyin. (T) 4.1k, Cisco Ramon/Hartley Rathaway.  During the pandemic, Hartley tries to help. He tries to keep going and do whatever he can, from a distance. Everything is going as well as can be expected, until his world comes crashing down with one phone call from Caitlin Snow.

THE GRISHA TRILOGY

watch the world go by by JemDoe. (T) 823 words, Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov. “The plague of 758 was a very serious issue, made worse by the Fold, Alina. Supplies were so hard to reach to the other side of the country…” “Wipe that smile off your face before talking about a plague that was made worse by your actions, then."

THE HOBBIT

Cave in by Isimile. (T) 1k, Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield. Of course the cave in has to happen just when Bilbo is accompanying Thorin to a visit of the newly re-opened mines. Thorin just have the worst luck.

THE LORD OF THE RINGS

Nowhere else by Roselightfairy. (T) 1.2k, Gimli/Legolas Greenleaf. In preparation of an anticipated attack from nearby Dunland, Éomer has ordered that Aglarond go into lockdown.At least Legolas and Gimli are together.

THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES

a melody played in a penny arcade by aguntoaknifefight. (T) 2.7k, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas. Jon is trapped in the Institute. Things change.Or: Peter Lukas’s post-divorce pettiness inadvertently saves the world.

THE SIMARILLION AND OTHER HISTORIES OF MIDDLE-EARTH

A WORLD WITHOUT GRANDPARENTS by bluehair. (G) 1k, Maglor & Finwe.  I really didn't plan this. But it wanted to be written.

THE SOFT DOCTRINE OF IMAGINOS

On the Wrong SIde of the Mirror by Imaginos_Buzzardo_Desdinova. (M) 2.1k, Gen.  Trapped on the wrong side of mirror, Imaginos must find his way back to stop the evil Desdinova. He finds only one other person who also was tricked into the mirror.

THE TERROR

Lift Fire by Gigi_Sinclair. (G) 2.5k, Thomas Jopson/Lt Edward Little.  "Tom doesn't speak, either, until there's a strange grinding groan, the lights flicker, and the lift shudders to an unexpected stop.Oh, you have to be joking, Edward thinks, as Tom says, 'I'd heard they'd been having some problems with this one.'"

Look for the Helpers by goreds. (T) 1.2k, Captain Francis Crozier/Commander James Fitzjames.  Dr. Francis Crozier, stuck at home, lends a hand to his sick next-door neighbor, James Fitzjames.

THE TRANSFORMERS

Maybe it’s enough by choomchoom. (T) 2.8k, Drift/Rodimus, Prowl/Starscream. The boys deal with the pandemic.

Quarantined by pipermca. (G) 2.7k, Gen. Even when the Decepticons are forced into quarantine to stop the spread of a deadly disease, Soundwave still has work to do. If only his cassettes would keep it down...

THE UNTAMED

The Usefulness of Bunnies as Messengers is Strictly Dependant on the Bunny In Question by theskyandsea. (G) 2.8k, Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian is quarantined in an apartment with Jiang Cheng and it's going about as well as one would expect. Which is to say, the second Wei Wuxian discovers just how hot his across-the-street neighbour is he jumps at the opportunity to talk to someone else.Even if that talking is through the medium of messenger bunnies.

We’re on a boat and... by chatcolat. (T) 1.4k, Gen. Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian get stuck on a boat and accidentally end up talking to each other for five minutes while they wait for rescue.

THE WITCHER

Carefully We Gather by tackytiger. (M) 2.4k,  Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier. They've been snowed in at the inn for six days now, and Jaskier still isn't speaking to Geralt.It's just, killing monsters is what Geralt does. Just because this one came a little bit too close to killing him first, doesn't mean that Jaskier has to get in a sulk about it. And why does he care so much, anyway?

Distanced Dears by jaskiersvalley. (T) 2.2k, Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier, Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach/Geralt of Rivia, Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu, Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach/Jaskier, Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer/Cahir.  Given the fact Geralt worked in the Accident and Emergency department, it was highly likely he would catch the virus, even with every precaution. Not wanting to put his whole family at risk, he and Cahir move into Cahir's old flat and they try to weather the storm by themselves when Geralt does get infected.

No More Water, but Fire Next Time by ladivvinatravestia. (T) 7.7k, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Jaskier, Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier.  Jaskier and Ciri take shelter at a refugee camp following the fall of Cintra, where they find that Pestilence and War often ride together.

oh my god they were plague-mates by wombatpop. (T) 4.3k, Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier. “They’ve closed the streets, Geralt. We’re stuck in here.” Jaskier and Geralt stuck in an inn together. What could go wrong?

The Fortnight by Elizabeth. (E) 7.5k, Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier.  A plague is ravaging the Northern Kingdoms. First Oxenfurt is locked down, and then Novigrad. Geralt is immune, but Jaskier isn't. Rosemary and Thyme is a pretty nice place to spend a fortnight, but it's still a long time to spend with just one person--even if that person is your best friend.A lot can happen in two weeks.

Trouble In Here by Val_Creative. (M) 2.5k,  Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier. Jaskier accidentally barricades himself into Geralt’s room when he’s been cursed, forcing them to isolate together.

YU-GI-OH! DUEL MONSTERS

And they were quarantine-mates by Alecto. (T) 4.8k, Jounouchi Katsuya/Kaiba Seto. The order came down while they slept. Now Kaiba was stranded at Joey's place for the foreseeable future.

YUYU HAKUSHO: GHOST FILES

Six Feet Apart by Penguiduck. (G) 2.4k, Kurama/Reader.  You've only been living in your condo for two months, but you have yet to meet your neighbor. When you're sentenced to working from home due to the recent COVID-19 virus, you step onto your shared balcony for the first time. You meet Shuichi and really like him. The only problem? You have to stay six feet apart.

[doctorroseficreclists]

themes: five things, five times

fic rec list masterpost | themes masterlist

According to fanlore.org, “Five Things... [or Times, or Reasons, or...] is a writing form or structure that requires a set of multiple scenes that are related to each other in some way, without necessarily being in the same chronological timeline.”  This storied multi-fandom tradition in fanfic actually predates the internet, traceable back to at least 1981 and a Star Wars fanfic by Marcia Brin.

It’s quite nifty to realise that the style’s explosion in popularity was an early example of going “viral” on the internet.  In 2001, a writer known as Basingstoke posted a Smallville story, “Five Things That Aren't True.” The idea took off, and she is now widely know as the person who started it all.

She was floored at its explosion in popularity, saying the fic was never meant “to be anything but a freshman effort....It staggers me that such a big thing grew out of such a little story.”

It’s also worth noting that, of course, the format has gone through all kinds of mutations, and we’re not limited to the number five.  We’ve got a selection of numbers in this list, and plenty of 5 + 1 also!

Without further ado, then, here is but a small sampling of our fandom’s contributions to the genre.

I’m sure I’m missing a lot of really fantastic stories, and I would love to add to this list.  If you don’t see a favourite here, let us know!  ~pyf

NEWLY ADDED

all my love was down in a frozen ground (Five times the Doctor and Rose got caught out in a snowstorm....(and one time they didn't.) by Mellaithwen (Ten, Tentoo, short story, teen)

The First Time (Five times the Doctor doesn't sleep with Rose Tyler (and one time he does.)) by @professorspork​​ (Nine, Ten, Tentoo, short story, all ages)

Five Fairy Tales by @fantastiqueolicity​​ (multidoctor, all ages, short story)

Five Kisses Before the Parting of the Ways by @fantastiqueolicity​​ (Nine, short story, all ages)

Five times John Smith & Rose Tyler saved each other from getting doused, and one time they didn’t by @kilodalton​ (Ten, short story, AU, teen)

Five Times the Tylers Were on a Celebrity Special of a Shitty Reality Show by @shinyopals​ (Tentoo, humour, short story, all ages)

     short story

NINExROSE

Teen or Below

Don't Say Sorry: Five times the Doctor apologized for kissing Rose, and one time he didn't by @livinginfictions​

Five Times it was Sex Pollen (wasn't it?) by fannishliss

The One Time They Accidentally Watched That Channel by @kelkat9​

That One Time the Doctor Knocked Up Rose Tyler by @whoinwhoville​, @kelkat9​​, and @aintfraidanoghosts​

Adult

Five Very Good Reasons to Say a Very Bad Word (And One Entirely Accurate One) by @jessalrynn​

TENxROSE

Teen or Below

5 Times the Doctor Snuck into Rose Tyler's Room by @doctor-who-hears-a-horton​

5 Times People Asked Rose Tyler About the Father of Her Baby by @lauraxxtennant​ (Rose was pregnant in Doomsday)

5 Ways Rose Tyler Nearly Left Him and 1 Way She Did by sinecure (happy ending)

Eleven Truths Rose Tyler Learned About Love by Gillian Taylor (angst)

Five (Botched) Proposals and a Wedding by @lizann5869​

Five Times the Doctor Reduced Things to Science (and One Time He Didn't) by wmr

Five Times People Thought They Were A Couple, And Once Someone Didn't by @lauraxxtennant​

Five Things Time Lords Don't Do - But the Doctor Definitely Does by RHHP_Freak

Five Ways the Doctor and Rose Weren't Reunited by surrexi

Five Ways Prolonged Genetic Exposure Probably Doesn't Work in Canon by @allegoricalrose​

Five Ways Rose Knew the Doctor Loved Her, and One Way He Told Her by Aibhinn

Nice Day for a White Wedding ( Five Times Rose Tyler Accidentally Got Married and One Time It Was Perfectly Intentional, Thank You Very Much.) by @deathlyfandoms​

Three Times Rose Tyler Was Covered in Goop and One Time She Was Not by azriona

Adult

Five Times the Tardis Tried to Play Matchmaker (and One Time She Actually Succeeded) by @caedmonfaith​ (adult)

Ten Fantasies Rose Tyler Lost About Love and One She Found by misscam (teen~adult (rated M))

TENTOOxROSE

Teen or Below

5 Things about Rose Tyler That Changed (and 1 That Didn't) by TurtleGoose (teen)

Five (and a Half) Things Tony Tyler Realizes About the Doctor by The_Bookkeeper (all ages)

Five Things Rose Tyler Learned the Day her Daughter Was Born (and Two Things the Doctor Discovered) by @lizann5869​ (all ages, baby!fic [does it need saying? ;)])

Five Things that Were Different About the Parallel Universe and One That Wasn't by Goldy & @shinyopals​ (all ages)

Three Christmas Traditions the Doctor Got Wrong & One He Didn't by Jellybean30 (teen)

Adult

Five Ways to Lose Your Path on an Alternate Earth (and One Way to Find It) by shadowed_gold

MULTIERAxROSE

5 Times Rose Tyler Wore Make Up (And 1 Time She Didn't) by weezly14 (NinexRose, TenxRose, teen)

Five Paths Rose Tyler Walked and the One She Never Could by ThroughAnAmberFocus (Seven, Ten, Tentoo, angst, ficlet-ish)

Five Times Rose Tyler Fell in Love (and One Time She Didn't) by @lightning-and-a-lightning-bug​ (NinexRose, TenxRose, teen)

Five Times Rose Tyler Missed Christmas by @jeeno2​ (NinexRose, TenxRose, TentooxRose, all ages)

Five Times Rose Tyler Wore the Doctor's Clothes (And the One Time He Wore Hers) by ThroughanAmberFocus (NinexRose, TenxRose, teen)

Sleep Study (Five Times the Doctor Saw Rose Tyler Sleep) by @lotsofthinkythoughts​ (NinexRose, TenxRose, TentooxRose, all ages)

Three Times in Which a Certain Time Lord Did Not Have a Cold by azriona (NinexRose, TenxRose, all ages)

    novella

All Contain Adult Chapters:

5 Clichés That Didn't Work, and 1 That Did by sinecure (TenxRose)

(Im)perfection During Intimacy: Five times sex wasn't perfect in Pete's World, and one time it was by @allrightfine​ (TentooxRose)

Five memories the Doctor never lived but still has jangling around in his brain, and one that he doesn't (sequel to The Road Not Taken) by the_spin (TenxRose, TentooxRose)

The Six Stages of a Human Time Lord Biological Metacrisis (Or: How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love the Frosting) by Gowdie

[ialwayscomewhenyoucall]

After All This Time (1/2)

twelve x rose - reunion!

~2.3k

The Doctor closes his eyes behind his dark glasses, enjoying the feel of guitar strings under his fingers and the sounds of rising and falling notes in his ears. He’d spent two days that had felt like a month chasing down an alien intent on wrecking havoc in London, so when the trouble was taken care of he’d needed to relax. He knows the guy who owns this pub, provides a little live music from time to time, because playing in the TARDIS isn’t the same as playing for people; even a small crowd gives something in return that can’t be found in an empty room. It’s not applause, it’s not even attention. It’s just energy, some inexplicable necessity that performers need along with food and water and air.

But there is a smattering of applause; his set is finished and he waves to the crowd. Someone actually shouts “Encore!” but he waves this off, a “maybe later” sort of wave.

Unhooking the strap of his guitar he settles it into the stand on the small stage then steps down to pick his way through the maze of tables to the bar itself. Pulling off his sunglasses he settles onto the only empty stool, next to a small blond woman wearing a long leather duster. It’s far too big for her; the sleeves are rolled several times to allow her hands access to the drink she’s staring into.

He fiddles with the sunglasses, unsure where to begin. Finally he says lightly, “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

Her head whips around, hair flying in all directions. Her look is one of pure shock--eyes wide, mouth hanging open. Finally she whispers, “Doctor?”

She looks like she’s about to throw her arms around him, then she stops, a look somewhere near anger darkening her features. “Really, Doctor? All this time separatin’ us, and that’s all you’ve got? A cheesy little line like that? I’ve half a mind to--”

His palm gently cupping her cheek, thumb ghosting across her skin, stops her words. He looks at Rose--truly looks at her--and his breath catches in his throat. It’s not just the tears threatening to trace down her cheeks at any moment. It’s the depth he sees in her eyes. It’s something near to what he sees on rare occasions he looks into a mirror. All this time, she’d said. Suddenly the significance of the coat she’s wearing hits home. It’s not the blue leather jacket she’d worn when hopping through dimensions, looking for his former self. It’s the coat he himself had worn back then.

Or a fairly good copy, he tells himself. Probably the metacrisis found it in Pete’s World.

And then everything crashes down on him all at once.

He clutches at the bar, then at his hair, thankful that he’s sitting on a stool and not standing up, for surely he’d have fallen otherwise. Distantly he hears Rose saying, “Easy, Doctor. Easy,” reaching out to steady him. He manages to slip his sunglasses on, looks at Rose through them, and there it is, clear as day.

“Rose, you…” he starts, but for maybe the first time in his many lives his mind goes completely blank. He has no idea what to say to her.

“We didn’t notice at first,” Rose begins. She’s talking to him, but she’s somewhere else too, staring off into another universe. “We were happy, the human Doctor an’ me. John, he was called. John Noble. He wanted to be his own self, and he--well, he thought Donna would like that.”

“She would have done,” the Doctor says, a faint smile on his lips.

“It was a bit rocky, in the beginning. We had to learn how to live with each other again, and he had to learn how to be human, and we didn’t have other planets or times to escape to. We had to find adventure in the little things. But we always knew we fit together, and it was worth getting past the tough bits.” She smiles, remembering.

“And then, after a little more than three years, we had our own TARDIS. She looked almost just like yours, on the outside at least. Apparently she liked the police box look too.”

“It’s a good look,” interjects the Doctor, and Rose laughs.

“So we had human lives to live, but we could live them everywhere and everywhen. And even though we were growin’ older, you know how the TARDIS is. Filters out viruses and bacteria, heals broken bones, that sort of thing. Healthy as horses, we two. We’d galavant for a time, then go home and visit Tony and Mum and Pete, then go out into the universe again. Only one time Mum looked at us and said, ‘What’s goin’ on, Rose! You an’ Tony look like you could be twins, and John over there’s got bits of silver in his hair!’ I think my heart nearly stopped. I’d honestly never noticed. I laughed it off to Mum but later John and I started talkin’ about it. About what lookin’ into the heart of the TARDIS can do to a person. About how maybe she’d fundamentally changed me even though you took the brunt of it into yourself…”

“Oh Rose,” he whispers. He can’t help it. But he doesn’t think she even notices.

“And then,” she says, taking a deep breath, “I died.”

He goes completely still. Obviously she survived this death, but the thought of anything happening to his Rose makes his blood run cold.

“It was such a stupid thing. We were just playin’! We were runnin’ on a beach, chasin’ each other, just plain bein’ silly. I slipped in the sand, and there was a rock, and it hit me just so…” She points at the side of her head. There is no scar. “There was no time to get me back to the TARDIS, I died right there in the sand. But I didn’t really die, of course. I regenerated. John was cryin’, and I felt like my whole body was on fire, every cell screamin’ to just stop so I could rest. And then John carried me back to the TARDIS and I slept for two days and then…” She shrugs. “But I look just like I always did. It’s not fair, that crazy energy stuff could have at least made me a little taller.”

He laughs, but his laugh is tinged with pain, and a tiny bit of regret. His lovely Rose, what had he done to her?

As if reading his thoughts, she puts a hand over his and says, “It’s not your fault, Doctor. I don’t regret what I did. And I don’t regret becomin’...whatever it is I am now.”

He looks into her eyes, eyes filled with time and sadness. “Time Lady,” he says. “Or near as makes no nevermind.”

She nods, slow and even. “I thought as much. John never said the words, but I thought he probably knew, same as me. It seems so strange to hear it said out loud though, to really know.”

And then she grabs at the hand she’d been only gently touching. “He lived a long, happy life, Doctor. I didn’t leave him, I swear I didn’t. I couldn’t, I never--” The sobs overcome her body, and he pulls her into his arms, breathing in the sweetness he’s never forgotten. He’s been wanting this ever since he saw her walk into the bar; it had been a sweet torture to play the rest of the set knowing she was there, her back to him, staring into a glass of something golden and firey. But this--her tears wash hot against his skin, and his strong Rose feels like she could shatter apart at any moment.

His murmurs are almost incoherent, just comforting sounds really. But he means every word, even if she isn’t really hearing him. “Of course you couldn’t, love. I know. I know.”

And he does. He hates saying goodbye, hates watching short-lived humans die. Just a blink and they’re gone, really. But oh, what lives they live. And he loves every moment he has with them. Two hearts, too much love to give.

But it’s impossible to put into words, so he just holds her, allows her to cry.

It’s long minutes before she takes a few deep breaths and says, “Thank you. I…” For a breath he thinks she’s lost in her memories, but finally she finishes by saying again, “Thank you.”

Anything for you, my Rose, the Doctor doesn’t say. “Of course,” he says instead, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

“John lived over a hundred years after we landed on Bad Wolf Bay. Near a hundred and two! Must have been the Time Lord half, giving him an extended lifespan. Not as long as a Time Lord, mind, but so, so long for a human, since we figure he was somewhere in his mid-30s when he was...well, born, I guess. Anyway, it was about ten years before that we stumbled upon the crack in the universe. John wouldn’t even call it a crack, said it was a micro fissure. Only molecules wide, he said, but he and the TARDIS worked for years on a way to get me through. Made me promise to go after, after…” A fresh tear trails down her already wet cheek.

“After he died,” says the Doctor, saying the words she cannot.

She nods, biting her lower lip.

“I didn’t do it right away. I wasn’t afraid,” her eyes flash defensively as she says this, “I just had to say a proper goodbye first. I never did get to say a proper goodbye to you; the first time I fell through the void, and then you disappeared before you could say you love me--and yes, I know that’s what you were sayin’, you can’t deny it now!--and then you just left me on the beach with John. I loved him so much, Doctor, and our life together was an incredible adventure, but you shouldn’t have done that.”

“Of course I love you, my Rose. Then and always.” His voice breaks when he says always. He doesn’t apologize for leaving her. He cannot. More than his voice would break.

She nods, just once, as if to say, “As it should be.”

“I buried him near Mum and Pete, and then I toured the universe. Visited all our favorite places. I didn’t even have to tell the TARDIS where to take me, she always knew the right place at the right time. She may've been young, but she knew me quite well. Even made me tea an’ biscuits when I was feelin’ blue.”

The Doctor found himself feeling inexplicably jealous.

“But after a few months of that, it was time. The TARDIS and I, we followed John’s instructions to the letter. It was a bumpy ride, and I’m honestly not sure how we survi--Doctor!”

She squeaks out his name because he’s suddenly holding her so tight; the logical part of his brain knows she clearly made it from the other universe to this one with no lasting harm, that the metacrisis--John, he corrects himself--would hardly put her in a truly dangerous situation--would he?--but thinking of her taking such a risk…

She’s stiff in his arms at first, clearly startled, but soon he feels her relax into his embrace. “I’m alright, Doctor. Truly. All here.” After a moment she threads her fingers into his hair and he decides that this is the best place in the universe and he’s never going to move again.

“Doctor,” Rose says, “quite a few people are lookin’ at us. Maybe we can go for a walk?” She smiles up at him through her lashes.

He starts. “I can’t! I’ve got to play again in…” He closes his eyes, thinking. His eyes snap open. “Three minutes! I didn’t even get a drink!” He gestures at the bartender. “Cliff! Could I get some water please?”

Rose is staring at him, eyes wide. Finally she says, “The guitar! That...that was you! I heard it from outside, and something about it called me in. But I couldn’t see the stage through the crowd, so I just sat down to listen…” She trails off, and they just smile at each other. He can feel how ridiculous his own smile looks, but it hardly matters. Rose is here, right in front of him. She’s real and she wants to go for a walk with him. And she came in to listen to him play his guitar, even when she didn’t know it was him.

It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes the universe gives him a gift.

“I know the owner, he lets me play sometimes. Always holds a table for me down front, in case I have any guests, which I never do.” The Doctor winks at Rose, then eases her forward with a hand on the small of her back. “Until tonight.”

She gives a soft giggle. “I’ll be your groupie!”

He takes a needed gulp of his water; even a Time Lord’s brain can go in too many directions at once, and Rose laughing can derail his thoughts any time.

Even after all these years.

She sits at the small table and he steps up onto the stage, trying to calm his jittery mind into performance mode for the next half hour or so. As he settles onto the waiting stool with his guitar resting on his thigh he looks at her again, looks at her eyes, and everything falls into place. The almost too long pauses, the heaviness in her gaze, the way she whispered his name when she first saw him. It’s right there, all of it.

“After my set we’ll go for that walk,” he says, his voice pitched low so only Rose can hear. “And you can tell me what you’ve been holding back.”

. + . + . + .

@doctorroseprompts

my doctor who tag list:

@keplarrrr @sunniebelle

(if you’d like to be added to or removed from the tag list please just let me know!)

[oncomingstcrms]

Please, write a meta about the life of The Metacrisis Doctor and Rose.

Make a spinoff BBC you cowards

It’s a very interesting point, because I want to believe that they are blissfully happy in the parallel universe together, I really do, but the important thing is that the Metacrisis Doctor is still the Doctor. Not John Smith (though he’ll probably need to have a proper name to actually live in the same place forever). He has the mind of a Time Lord, and it’s a very restless mind. He needs travelling, he needs this life on the run and Rose needs it just as much. They have Torchwood, of course, but honestly, I don’t think it’s enough.

That being said, I like the idea of them growing their own TARDIS and speeding up the process (why did this scene have to be deleted in the first place?) I love the idea of them getting married eventually, maybe having a couple of kids and a dog, though I don’t think that would happen soon after the Journey’s End. 

Because despite the Metacrisis Doctor being the Doctor, he is very different from Ten. He was born in battle, he committed genocide (always a dubious point with the daleks but okay), he is brand new and he’s basically Nine before he met Rose. The Tenth incarnation of the Doctor was born out of love, he had Rose by his side during his regeneration, he loved her already and gave his life to save her – she really did change him. She made him kinder, she taught him sympathy, she told him when to stop. 

But this new Doctor is different. He has this changing process ahead of him, that’s why he needs Rose more than the original Doctor does. It’s going to be a long process of getting used to this new life, to being together without travelling, to being half-human. And I believe that there have to be some dark moments, mostly because of the aforementioned process, but at the end of the day they’ll be fine. They’ll grow their TARDIS and go back to travelling, ‘just as it should be’, but their bond will be stronger than ever.

Also I never listened to the audio stories, but I read that he has headaches and nightmares because of the war, but she’ll be there for him and it’s so much better than being alone.

Rose’s love for the Doctor is unconditional, and so is his love for her. He met her when he wasn’t even looking for someone, she just happened to him, she gave him hope in his darkest days. She was the companion he felt the most comfortable with, except for maybe Donna (because Martha had unrequited feelings for him and Jack was, well, terribly wrong by the Time Lord standards). She was an ordinary girl who never passed her A-levels and grew up in an estate with a single mother. A girl who worked in a shop. But to him she was the most amazing person in the universe, the only thing he believed in.

And Rose didn’t just fall in love with Ten like many others. She didn’t fall for a handsome and kind man with a charming smile. She loved Nine, who wasn’t lovable at times, who was grumpy and dark and could do some pretty bad things. And she understood the regeneration process very quickly – she knew that this new Doctor is still the Doctor, and she realized the same about the Metacrisis Doctor. She knew that he wasn’t just a clone with some memories loaded into his head – all the adventures they had, all the happiness and pain they shared, he was there with her. Her only concern was that the new Doctor wouldn’t want her around anymore. 

And unconditional love is the best kind. She wouldn’t be bitter because he’s half-human (it’s actually a good thing for her), she wouldn’t accuse him of not being the Doctor enough if he made some mistakes. Rose Tyler didn’t love the Ninth Doctor or the Tenth Doctor. She loved the Doctor. As a whole, as a concept, and that’s what makes her so amazing (I love Rose Tyler, I’d die for Rose Tyler any day, I want you to know that). 

So yeah, this got long and messy. Where am I going with this? They’ll be fine. They’ll have some troubles along the way, but they won’t let them stand in the way of something so beautiful. 

[elialys]

Tentoo x Rose - Homecoming

I completed ‘Calluses’ (what I call my tentoo x rose ‘origin story’) a couple weeks back, already knowing back then that I would write more about these two because I’m having a lot of feels. Actually, most of this was written probably about 12 hours after I finished Calluses. It also happens to take place probably about 6 hours after the end of Calluses. Even though I’n not planning for this series of stories to be necessarily linear but oh well. 

I don’t think it’s necessary for you to have read Calluses to understand this, it’s mostly fluff and smut, but I’ll still encourage you to read the other one first, as it gives more depth to these scenes.

This is dedicated to my own metacrisis Laura (@spazmatazz) who literally gave me the idea for the first half of this fic. The smutty half is all from my brain. You can read this story on [AO3].

(I’m cautiously tagging @doctorroseprompts, because I think this fits with the prompt of new beginnings? I’ve never done this before so let me know if I’m doing it wrong!)

...

HOMECOMING

By the time they make it to her flat, they’re both getting a bit cranky.

Although the flight itself was only a couple hours long, many more hours have passed since they left that hotel in Norway. Lost as they’d been in their little bubble, they’d failed to realise they were coming back at the tail end of an extended weekend…which meant bigger crowds, longer waiting times, and unforeseen flight delays that snowballed into more waiting times as the day progressed.

They sat in that plane for a good hour and a half before it was allowed to take off. Once they touched down at Heathrow, they had to wait another forty-five minutes before being let out of the plane.

Through this whole ordeal, they happened to be seated right across the aisle from a single mother with two extremely unhappy young children.

The Doctor, while initially patient, stopped smiling around Hour Three of their endless commute out of Norway. When he started responding to her in mere grunts instead of actual sentences, Rose stopped trying altogether.

(All that without mentioning the half-an-hour wait to retrieve the damn suitcase, or the fact that they decided to brave the London underground for another forty minutes after they spotted the long taxi queue outside the airport.)

Hence them being a bit cranky by the time they make it to her place, something they’re both trying to conceal from the other with tensed smiles every time they make eye contact, when really, there is no denying how abysmal this has been. Rose is not feeling any better when she lets them inside at last.

Her flat, although decent, is neither big nor homey.

It’s small because that’s all she could afford in London on her Torchwood salary. She knows all she’d have to do is ask to be given a ridiculous amount of money by her ridiculously rich parents, but she’s been determined to be as independent as possible ever since she realised she was going to be stuck here for longer than she thought.

The lack of homey feel is due exclusively to the fact that she’s spent little to no time actually living here in the three-and-half years since she’s moved in. She hadn’t lied to him when she’d said most of her life in this universe had been spent trying to leave it. The place possesses the bare necessities, but little else.

No hint of personal taste, not much in term of comfort, and not a single photograph to be found anywhere.

Rose did not exactly plan on offering him a thorough tour once they arrived, reluctant to let him see how empty she’d let her life become, but she did assume they’d have to go through the basics– here’s the kitchen, here’s the bathroom, here’s the bedroom.

As it turns out, they don’t make it passed the entrance hall – not initially. The moment she turns on the light and his eyes take in her small living room, she knows he won’t need to see much more to make the right connections. His expression, which has been furrowed for the last two hours, somehow becomes graver. When he turns his head and looks down at her, she forces herself not to avert her eyes.

She opens her mouth to say something, defend her lack of a private life, but she can’t come up with  a good lie. Not that she wants to lie to him. She closes her mouth, eventually giving a vague shrug of her shoulder, her cheeks warming up as she drops her eyes to his chest.

She feels his palm upon her flushed cheek, his touch tender yet insistent, the way it always seems to be, pressing to tilt her head up towards him. She follows the movement, leaning against him as he brings his face down to hers, his second hand already coming up and disappearing in her hair.

The moment she lets herself melt into his kiss, she almost feels the tension trickling out of her; judging by the long sigh he soon lets out against her lips, he’s starting to relax a little, too, soon pressing his nose into that small hollow between her jaw and ear.

“Can we agree not to do that again?” He asks in a pained tone, his voice low and warm…so warm against her skin.

She lets out a soundless chuckle, that exhale sounding more tired than she anticipated; now that she’s relaxing, she’s starting to feel the strain of their journey – not just the last six hours of it. They haven’t exactly been sleeping that much these past few days.

“No more kissing?” She cannot help but ask, a teasing note in her tired voice. He answers by gently biting down on the sensitive skin of her neck, and she almost purrs, her toes curling in her shoes as her fingers curl in his hair. “Fine, no more planes for now. ‘t was rather terrible.”

“Mmm…” he hums against her pulsing point. “Your ruthless No-Touching policy did not help either. It would have made that fourth hour so much more bearable.”

She smiles lazily, eyes still closed, comforted by the sound of his voice and the feel of his breath, trailing down her neck. “I might’ve to reconsider things a little…” she breathes out sleepily.

She doesn’t immediately notice that he’s stopped the slow decent upon her neck, too warm and relaxed now to mind this small change.

“Rose?”

She reopens her eyes; she’s a lot more slumped against him than she remembers being, having apparently started to…doze off, too. She blinks up at him, forcing her gaze to refocus. “Sorry. You were sayin’?”

He’s scowling a little, but there is genuine tenderness in his gaze. “Not much. Conversation wasn’t exactly on my mind.” His hand is back on her cheek, his thumb trailing her skin. “To be honest, what I do have in mind would be a lot more fun with you awake.”

“I am awake,” she protests just as her body betrays her, letting out a long yawn.

She doesn’t resist when he pulls her to him, letting herself rest heavily against his chest; she buries her whole face into his jumper, drowning her lungs with the smell of him.

“Bedroom?” he whispers in her ear, and she reluctantly unwraps an arm from around him to wave a hand in the general direction of her room.

He’s moving, then, and she has no other choice but to follow, still heavily leaning against him as they make their way through her small flat, stirring them in the right direction. By the time they reach her room, the big of her sleepiness has passed.

“I’m gonna wash up a little,” she tells him, her chin on his shoulder. “Should wake me up enough for whatever you feel like doing.”

“I’ve never felt more seduced,” he replies, pressing a small kiss to the tip of her nose, and she offers him half a grin, her tongue briefly poking between her teeth.

She escapes his warmth as one would tear off a bandaid – swiftly, and in one go, stepping away from him and walking to the bathroom’s door. When she turns to look at him, he’s already sat down on her bed, looking up at her with tired, miserable eyes.

“Two minutes top,” she promises with a small shake of her head and an amused smile. “Make yourself comfortable,” she wriggles an eyebrow at him, well aware that in his vocabulary, it probably means his clothes are not going to stay on for long.

She’s quick to wash up, a little more than two minutes, a little less than five. She becomes so lost in her thoughts as she changes into her sleeping attire, already thinking about everything they’ll have to do in the upcoming days, that she doesn’t realise how…quiet it is until she’s about ready to leave the bathroom. A ridiculous amount of scenarios pop into her head, wondering what he might be up to out there; somehow, the thought that he might have simply fallen asleep does not even cross her mind.

And yet...

Lying in the middle of her queen bed in some weird, inexplicable angle, half on his side, half on his stomach, the Doctor is fast asleep.

Rose spends an indefinite amount of time watching him, her temple pressed to the doorjamb, before she forces herself to move. He’s surprisingly not naked, only having managed to take off his shoes and the one sock, before he’d succumbed to that ruthless wave of exhaustion that had hit her, back in the entrance hall.

She moves swiftly and quietly, pulling the curtains closed first, before focusing on him. She gently extracts his glasses from the front of his jumper, digging into both his back pockets to extract his screwdriver and psychic paper. She spends some time sitting at the edge of her bed, after that, slowly running her fingers through his thick hair, allowing herself a minute (or five) to feel overwhelmed with incredulity and gratitude at her current situation. As always, it is a bittersweet emotion, never quite able not to think about her other Doctor, and the sacrifice he had to make.

Rose doesn’t allow herself to wallow; not anymore, and definitely not right now. She sets upon joining him onto the bed instead, which is easier said than done.

She find herself thanking all her years of gymnastic as she wriggles her way into his arms, unwilling to wake him up from his slumber, just as reluctant to try sleeping out of his embrace. After some trials and errors, and a few unavoidable shifts of his limbs, she’s managed to slip between his arms, her back to his chest. When she gives one last wriggle of her hips to bring their bodies closer, he startles awake behind her. He tenses for a moment, his inhale loud and somewhat panicked.

It doesn’t last.

As soon as he realises where he is, and with whom, his entire body relaxes behind hers, and he breathes out long and deep against her nape. When he moves, she moves with him, allowing him to wrap himself more securely around her.

One of his legs come across hers and he pulls her to him, finding her fingers and intertwining them close to her heart. He nestles his face into the curve between her shoulder and neck, his nose briefly nuzzling her skin, before he settles down, his warm exhales already lulling her to sleep.

…

Rose is first stirred from deep sleep when his entire body tightens around hers and he gulps for air again.

She awakes to the sensation of his arms squeezing her firmly to him, her back pinned to his chest, their joined hands now pressed tightly to her sternum, nearly to the point of discomfort. She doesn’t move, letting him take comfort in the feel of her, more pained by his loud, quivery breaths against her neck and what might be causing his distress than she is by his too-strong hold.

When she does move, eventually, freeing her hand from his grip, she reaches behind her, weaving her fingers through his slightly damp hair, her touch slow, and soothing. Her caress helps him calm down, his inhales and exhales  deepening as seconds, then minutes pass.

His hold on her begins to relax, too…until she changes the way her fingers move, using her nails rather than the pad of her fingers to graze his scalp. The Doctor shudders strongly against her back, his entire frame instantly tightening again.

She doesn’t remain motionless, this time, opposing some resistance to his hold, needing to face him, to reach more of him. He quickly picks up on her cues, letting her turn in his arms; he remains as compliant when she continues to push, until he’s rolling onto his back, and she comes to straddle his hips, half-leaning over him, both forearms upon his chest.

Their eyes meet in the bluish light of a fast approaching dawn, and she sees in his gaze a reflection of all these emotions she feels, bubbling so close to the surface. Lust, although present, is not what dominates in his eyes.

“You all right?” She murmurs, her nails gently scratching his few days old beard.

He swallows hard, but gives a small nod of his head, before both his hands come up to her face, tenderly clearing it off, pushing back messy strands of hair. His fingers remain buried in it as he gently pulls her down, until her forehead comes to rest upon his, and she shifts slightly upon him, her own fingers curling in his hair. The first meeting of their lips is soft, and loving.

It doesn’t remain that way for long.

His hands come down, both his arms encircling her to press her more securely to him even as Rose begins to move, prompting a reciprocal rolling of their hips. It slowly gains in momentum, until she’s swallowing his moan, his fingertips digging into her sides.

When she straightens up a little, his fingers release her to grab the hem of her shirt; she raises her arms, wordlessly encouraging him, and he swiftly pulls the garment over her head. Having already discarded of her trousers and bra before she’d wiggled her way into his arms, the removal of her shirt leaves her in nothing more than her underpants, while he remains fully dressed beneath her.

She almost speaks again, half-tempted to tease him about his terrible state of non-nakedness…until she gets caught in his gaze. His eyes have completed a swift, appreciative overview of the sight offered to him, and somehow, entrapped in the heat of his gaze, the desire to banter with him dissipates entirely.

She craves the feel of his hands on her instead, longs to feel his breath upon her flushed skin.

It must have shown, because he’s pulling himself up, then, his face soon pressed between her breasts, both his palms and all ten of his fingers splayed upon her thighs, digging once more into muscles and flesh. She buries her fingers and nose into his hair, keeping him close to her as her head swims with his intoxicating scent and the sheer feel of him, as entranced by his silent intensity as she was on their first night together.

His hands move over her backside, sliding beneath the fabric of her underpants, squeezing to bring her flush against him as his tongue and lips move, too, capturing her nipple into wet heat, eliciting hot sparks of pleasure that shoot down and pool deep within. She ripples into him as a low moan escapes her; although quiet, the sound seems loud in the otherwise silent room.

It spurs him on, his mouth briefly releasing her to graze his prickly cheek across the oversensitive skin of her chest, before giving all of his attention to her other breast. Even as she sinks deeper into the feel of him, already slave to that throbbing need within her, Rose becomes increasingly aware of the roughness of his clothes against her skin, longing to feel him, all of him.

The Doctor could have happily spent the next hour or two carrying on doing what he’s doing, enjoying this quite a bit, especially the fact that Rose is more than responsive to it. He’s forced to stop rather abruptly when she grabs both his shirt and jumper and forcefully drags them upward, soon pulling them over his head with unmistakable impatience.

A shift has occurred in her, changing their slow, lazy build-up into something more urgent.

He shudders almost violently as the cool air meets his flushed skin, every inch of it now covered in goose bumps. The chill doesn’t last long, as Rose swiftly wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him with a fervour that would be quite enough to chase the cold away on its own. She does much more than that, though, pinning herself to him as she deepens the kiss, seeking him, and he groans at the soft feel of her breasts, pressed so tightly against him. His jeans have become uncomfortably constricted, almost to the point of pain; that ache regularly fades, his every nerve prickling with hot pleasure every time she rolls into him.

When even that delicious friction isn’t enough to lessen his discomfort anymore, he tightens his hold on her hips in a silent request, hissing softly against her lips. She stops her movements, pulling away to look at him. Still, they don’t speak, Rose reading everything she needs to know in his eyes and the constricted look on his face. She pushes lightly on his chest, until he lets himself fall back upon the mattress.

She frees him of his jeans and boxer wonderfully fast, with barely any help from him at all, discarding of her last piece of clothing just as swiftly, so that the next time she slithers upon him, there is nothing between them but flesh and skin and heated air. Their bodies come together in yearning, their kissing somewhat frantic, now. She’s everywhere and everything, soft, hot, supple, and all his, all because of him, his fingers between her legs drawing long notes out of her that echo through the night as she shivers and burns against him, so that when she guides him inside of her, the sound they both let out resemble a sigh more than a moan.

She clings to him so tightly, keeping him pressed to the bed with her entire body as she moves, creating exactly the kind of friction she needs, judging by her raspy moans or the way her nails sink into his scalp. He lets her set the pace, swift, deep, and steady, content to let her carry him forth – unable to do much else to be quite honest.

The mere feel of her, surrounding him so completely, is enough to send him spiralling up and up and up with each strong sway of her body upon his, each meeting of their hips, pinning her tighter to him with his palms on her lower back to increase that pressure she’s chasing so desperately, her breath scorching hot upon his parted lips.

She comes faster than neither of them anticipated, gasping his name as she does so, before the sound dissolves into a long moan, her every muscle pulsating around him, clinging onto him with so much force that he might have felt pain…hadn’t he been caught up in her wave, her rushing pleasure triggering his own.

The Doctor keeps her close, afterwards, none of them moving much at all, her body deliciously heavy upon his, her face upon his face, his fingertips tracing symbols into the curve of her cooling back. When she does move, eventually, she brings her face to his neck, pressing a soft, lingering kiss upon his pulsing point, before breathing him in, slowly, deeply, until he’s humming his contentment, the sound reverberating through her.

She’s moving again, then, her breath so close to his ear, causing a familiar shiver to run down the length of his body.

“Welcome home,” Rose murmurs.

His laughter is soft, and low, and a little bit choked up, tightening his hold on her as he shifts, just enough for his lips to brush her forehead.

“Welcome home,” the Doctor reciprocates upon her skin, having forced the quiet words passed the lump in his throat.

They don’t speak at all, after that.

They really don’t need to.

[avaantares]

Ask thingy: 1, 5, 8?

1.What OTPs in your fandom(s) do you just not get?

Honestly? The Ninth Doctor and Rose Tyler (Doctor Who). I know it’s (sort of) supported by canon, but I don’t see a relationship between a 900-year-old super-genius alien time-traveler war veteran with PTSD and a teenager who has never even lived on her own as anything resembling an equal partnership.

I have less of an issue with Rose/Metacrisis Doctor, because by that point she’s in her 20s, has more life experience, and has been running Torchwood for a couple of years, but that’s a far cry from 19-year-old Series 1 Rose who doesn’t even have any A Levels.

5. Do you have a NoTP in [insert fandom here]?

Ianto Jones/Owen Harper (Torchwood). That pairing just makes my skin crawl every time I see it. Owen is abusive, Ianto is passive-aggressive, they’re both suffering from major emotional trauma, and I can’t see anything healthy in throwing them together romantically.

Also, how dare you separate Ianto and Jack.

8. Unpopular opinion about [insert fandom here]?

(Doctor Who/Torchwood) I’ve written about this before, but here goes: I don’t think the Tenth Doctor treated Jack Harkness badly.

“Heresy!” I hear all the Torchwood fans cry. But no, wait, hear me out:

First, admittedly, the Ninth Doctor was pretty awful to Jack. Always taking verbal shots at him, prioritizing Rose over him, and ultimately abandoning him in a space station full of corpses and running away. Not a nice thing to do, especially to someone as loyal and devoted and ready to follow him into deadly peril as Jack.

When Jack finally catches up to him, Ten initially tries to flee Jack the same way his previous incarnation did, but circumstances don’t allow it. He’s forced to confront Jack as a Fixed Point, and as a person – and more importantly, to come to terms with what he’s done to Jack. And he does, and it changes their entire relationship dynamic.

For the first half of “Utopia,” Ten treats Jack like Nine did – superior, bordering on indifferent. In their reunion scene, Ten has a serious, slightly disapproving look on his face the whole time (except, predictably, when asked about Rose). In return, Jack is bitter, even a bit petulant (”Not if you’re blonde”). Though they immediately join forces when threatened, they are not exactly on the path to reconciliation.

The pivotal moment comes during their conversation while Jack’s in the radiation-flooded chamber: When they first start talking, that stern look is still on Ten’s face. He’s caught up in the discomfort (and perhaps guilt) of being near Jack, and he has no reason to assume anything has changed between them.

Jack, however, has been through a lot since the last time he was with the Doctor, and he’s come into his own. He no longer lets the Doctor treat him like a second-class companion; instead, he goes on the offensive: “And all that time, you knew,” he accuses. Ten responds with the infamous “you’re wrong” line, and tries to justify his behavior by citing the Time Lords and the fact that the TARDIS also reacted adversely to Jack. Jack makes no attempt to conceal his hurt and bitterness, and – most importantly – he actually calls the Doctor out on his nonsense. “So what you’re saying is, you’re prejudiced? Shame on you.”

This is the point at which Ten’s body language begins to change. He blinks like he’s processing something, smiles, and his verbal tone shifts. Rather than looking down his nose at Jack, he cocks his head, rubs his eyes, and smiles more when he speaks. There’s a different dynamic between them from this point on: Ten realizes he’s been kind of a jerk, and begins to recognize Jack as an equal rather than a subordinate. Jack accepts that the Doctor is fallible and, while he still trusts and loves him, he no longer hero-worships him. This puts them on a much more equal footing, which is evident almost immediately in the conversation: The Doctor opens up to Jack about what happened to Rose, and lets him see how affected he is by it. When Jack tries to sidestep his question about wanting to die, the Doctor gives Jack the same I’m-calling-you-out look that Jack shot him a moment before. He still teases Jack (”It’s the only man you’re ever gonna be happy with”), but it’s not in the harsh, almost nasty tone he used earlier in the episode (”Did I? Busy life. Move on.”).

By the end of the three-parter, the Doctor has reconciled fully with Jack, to the point of asking him to travel with him again. When Jack declines, Ten just accepts his decision, rather than arguing or make snide comments like Nine might have. He doesn’t even quibble that Jack is leaving him for Torchwood, because he has fully forgiven Jack for his involvement with that organization – and for the Tenth “no second chances” Doctor, this is a HUGE step, as he still considers Torchwood responsible for the loss of Rose. I think a lot of fans miss the significance of this! Ten is not built for forgiveness; it’s the fundamental tenet of this incarnation, stated outright in “The Christmas Invasion.” The fact that he can accept a Torchwood under Jack’s leadership says volumes about his trust in and respect for Jack.

The next time they meet (”The Stolen Earth” arc), they’re still on good terms and work well together, and the Doctor is actually excited to meet the members of Jack’s Torchwood team, showing how far he’s come since his outrage in “The Sound of Drums.” And Jack is one of a very few people that Ten visits on his farewell tour in “The End of Time,” so it’s clear they still have a fairly close relationship.

Did the Doctor treat Jack badly? Yes, at first. But then he realized his mistake and changed his behavior, treating Jack as an equal rather than a mere hanger-on. Their reconciliation brought about a stronger, more balanced friendship based on mutual respect.

I think Ten and Jack were far closer and understood each other better than Nine and Jack ever did, and you’ll never convince me otherwise.

opinion>

[regenderate-fic]

All the Quiet Nights You Bear: Chapter 14

Fandom: Doctor Who Rating: General Ship: Thirteenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan, Yasmin Khan/Rose Tyler, Thirteenth Doctor/Rose Tyler/Yasmin Khan, Past Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Characters: Thirteenth Doctor, Yasmin Khan, Rose Tyler, Najia Khan, Hakim Khan, Sonya Khan, Dan Lewis, Jack Harkness, Ryan Sinclair Series: And We’re Not Out of the Tunnel Word Count (Chapter): 3,931 Other Tags: Fluff and Angst, Angst, Emotional, Disabled Character, Chronic Illness, Bad Wolf Rose, COVID-19, Self-Quarantine, Domestic, Autistic Characters, Polyamory, OT3, Slow Burn, Disability Read on AO3 / Read in order

Summary: Rose Tyler-Noble jumps out of her parallel universe, leaving her husband and family behind in the hopes that being back in the right universe will improve her well-being.

Yasmin Khan is out for lunch with the Doctor when she sees a blonde woman sitting on the sidewalk, crying.

The Doctor, Yaz, and Rose travel back to Sheffield to see Yaz’s family, but they have to leave the TARDIS so it can reset, and when they come back, it’s gone. The police have confiscated it, and they want to see proof of ownership before they give it back. And the Doctor left her psychic paper on board. And they’ve landed in March of 2020, just before everything shuts down.

Stranded in Sheffield, they have no choice but to get a flat and quarantine together. Which, when you have three emotionally volatile people who care for each other more than they’re willing to admit, can be complicated.

(Sequel to And Still I Will Live Here, but hopefully readable out of context. Updating on Saturdays and Wednesdays.)

NOTES: uhhh okay so i'll be honest i actually don't know if this needs a trigger warning but there's a thing with rose and food in this chapter that MIGHT be weird to read if you have a difficult relationship with food. so. tread carefully i guess? tl;dr is in the ao3 endnotes here if you want to check it before you read

relatedly i'm posting early because i have a gastroenterologist appointment at EIGHT AM IN THE FUCKING MORNING tomorrow so i have to try and go to bed before midnight

added a few characters to the tags (a couple have already appeared, one comes in here) but i can't be bothered to go add them to every previous chapter so. rip

Rose wakes up feeling... warm. Warm, and more comfortable than she has in ages. She's under a nice, soft blanket, and she's cuddled up against another body. For a split second, her sleep-addled brain assumes it's John, and a slow smile creeps onto her face.

It disappears the second she remembers— John is a universe away. And his body felt very different, anyway: so whose chest has Rose been sleeping on?

And then she remembers: Yaz. They had that conversation, and then they were watching that show together, and somehow that must have turned into sleeping half-on-top of each other. Rose shifts, pulling herself away, moving her head onto the pillow. It's only a twin bed: she winds up inches away from Yaz's still-asleep face.

Rose freezes. Is this awkward? She honestly can't tell. She's only known Yaz a few days, and she likes Yaz, trusts her more than she'd trust most people after just a few days, but still, it's only been a few days.

But— well, Rose is reasonably sure she fell asleep first, while they were still watching the show, and Yaz could've woken her up, or could've moved her to the other bed, or could've gone and slept in the other bed herself. At the very least, she could've moved Rose's head off her chest, but there's no evidence that Yaz attempted any kind of separation. So maybe...

Rose lets her eyes slip shut again. She doesn't fall asleep. There's a strange and conflicting storm of emotions within her: the confusion and haze of having woken up with a person who isn't her husband, the grief of remembering that she’ll never wake up with her husband again, but also the unexpected comfort that she still feels, being next to someone. She doesn't know what any of it means.

She's tired of having to deal with all these feelings, anyway. She just wants a break.

She can’t have a break. So she does the next best thing: tries her absolute hardest to relax and not think too much about any of it. She just lies there, her eyes closed, her body just a little closer to Yaz's than strictly necessary, until she feels Yaz starting to move.

She opens her eyes. Yaz is rolling onto her side, facing Rose: their eyes meet. Neither one of them speaks at first. They just hold eye contact.

“Morning,” Rose ventures.

“Morning.” At this distance, every microexpression on Yaz's face is visible; every breath she takes hits Rose. “Sorry, you fell asleep on me. Couldn't bring myself to wake you up.”

“That's all right.” Rose holds her silence for a long moment, trying to commit to what she wants to say next. “It's nice, actually.”

“Yeah?” Yaz has the beginnings of a nervous smile.

“Yeah.” Rose thinks back to the night before: Yaz crying over the Doctor, Rose crying over John, both of them distracting themselves with a show. It's the sort of night Rose is familiar with, although she's only ever gone through it alone or with John. She misses John, but going through it with Yaz is much, much better than being alone. “We're both going through stuff, yeah? No reason we have to do it on our own. I reckon we all need a good cuddle sometimes.”

“Okay.” Yaz still looks a little nervous. “I just don't want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I'm good if you are,” Rose says. “Promise.”

“All right, then.”

They hold eye contact for another moment, reaching a kind of understanding, and then Rose rolls off the bed, her feet hitting the floor. Mornings are usually her worst time of day, physically speaking, and today is no exception: her head spins when she stands, but after a couple moments it dies down enough that she can get moving. She stretches.

“Suppose I'd better make breakfast.” Rose frowns, thinking back. “Did I have a proper tea last night?”

Yaz sits up. “I think you just had one of my pakora.”

“Suppose I did.” Rose shakes her head. “It's weird. I never really get hungry anymore. Makes it hard to know when I've got to eat.”

“Is that because of what the TARDIS did to you?” Yaz asks.

Rose shrugs. She sits back on her bed, kicking her feet. “I still don't know what all the TARDIS did to me.” She gestures to her body. “There's loads going on in here. But yeah, it definitely did something to my digestion. I used to be able to eat anything, but now most food makes me feel kind of sick. I'm hoping it gets better over time.”

Yaz nods. She picks up a hairbrush and starts running it through her thick black hair, her expression thoughtful. “The TARDIS made you rely on vortex energy, didn't it?”

“That's the theory,” Rose says slowly. She sees the conclusion Yaz is coming to, and she doesn't like it.

“So what if you're not supposed to be eating regular food?” Yaz asks. “I mean, maybe the vortex energy is all your body needs.”

Rose frowns. “Then my body's changed more than I thought it did.” Is it possible, even, that her body could reject all the nutrients, energy, sugar and salt, that it got from food? Surely she still needs some of it.

Yaz shrugs. “I mean, I still think you should have breakfast,” she says. “But maybe we can ask the Doctor.”

Rose really does not want to have this conversation with the Doctor. “Yeah, all right.”

“We’ll have to wait until she wakes up.” Yaz puts her hairbrush down, tying her hair into a loose bun. “And in the meantime, I'll make us some eggs. That all right with you?”

“Sure.” Rose pulls her legs up, sitting cross-legged against the wall. Yaz leaves, and Rose hears her calling for Ruby, cat food rattling as it hits the bowl. Rose blocks it out and closes her eyes, once again trying to process everything that's going on. She's glad to have made a friend out of Yaz, especially if they're going to be sharing a room, but they've only known each other for a few days: what if something goes horribly wrong? And then there's the food question, and the horribly awkward conversation she's bound to have with the Doctor about it. And of course John and her family always loom in the back of her mind. 

She picks her photo album up off her nightstand and flips through to a family photo: her in her wheelchair. John. Her mum, her dad. Tony. Gabe. She's hit with a pang of regret for the days she'll never see: Tony and Gabe growing up. John growing old.

They should have gotten to grow old together.

She closes the photo album. It's too early to get bogged down in her memories. Idly, she pulls out her phone, twiddling with the buttons. There are a couple games on there, but she's mostly bored of them by now. She switches over to her contacts, although she's sure there's no one in there she can contact now: her mum's in another universe, the Doctor is asleep in the next room, and Shireen thinks she's dead.

And then she sees another name, and freezes. Jack Harkness. She was thinking about contacting Jack, right when she'd just jumped into this universe, but she'd gotten distracted by the Doctor and Yaz, and now she's let far too much time go by without telling him she's back. He is, in many ways, her best and oldest friend in this universe.

She sighs. After breakfast, she'll call him.

Yaz comes back in, holding two plates of eggs and toast. She hands one to Rose, and Rose takes it, poking at the eggs with considerable suspicion. Part of her is afraid to eat, now she knows her body might not need it: what if she's just hurting herself further?

But that's silly, she decides. The only difference between today and yesterday is that yesterday, Rose didn't think she might not need to eat. And she was just fine yesterday. So she takes a decisive forkful of eggs and shoves it in her mouth.

She and Yaz eat in silence, sitting on their respective beds. Rose finishes first and takes her dish to the kitchen to wash it: when she gets back, she sits on her bed again and says, “D'you mind if I call a friend?”

“Sure.” Yaz's fork hovers above her plate. “I thought you didn't know anyone in this universe.”

“Nah, I know a few people. Most of them think I'm dead. One of them is the guy I was dating when I met the Doctor. Not sure he wants to hear from me right now.” It wouldn't be fair, either, to run back to Mickey again, even in a platonic capacity. Rose is sure he has his own life now. She hopes so, anyway.

Yaz laughs. “Yeah, maybe not.” She goes back to her food, and Rose picks up her phone again, her thumb hovering over the “call” button. She takes a deep breath.

And then she hits it.

The phone rings. It rings enough times that for a moment, Rose is sure Jack won't pick up: maybe he's got a new phone, or he's asleep, or he's busy. But then she hears a click, and an incredulous voice says, “Rose Tyler?”

“Jack?” Rose bites her lower lip, suddenly nervous. Yaz is staring at her, too, and mouthing, Jack Harkness? Rose realizes she never considered that Yaz and Jack might know each other. She nods.

“Rose! It's you!” Jack's voice says.

“Yeah!” Rose's breath escapes her in a laugh. “It's me. It's been a while. Not as much for me as for you, I'm sure.”

“Definitely not,” Jack says. “But Rose, what happened? I thought you were off with the Doctor's mini-me.”

“I was.” Tears spring to Rose's eyes. “I, erm, I got sick. You remember the Bad Wolf thing?”

“How could I forget?” Jack's voice is gentle, steady. “Made me the man I am today.”

“Yeah.” Rose takes a deep breath. “Turns out, I didn't exactly come away fully human. The TARDIS— it made me more like it. To protect me.” She pauses. “But I need vortex energy from this universe to survive.”

“Oh, Rose.”

“Yeah.” Rose squeezes her eyes shut, ignoring the tears that slide out from under her lashes. “I had to come back.”

“So where are you now? Are you all right?”

“I'm—“ Rose hesitates. She glances at Yaz. “I'm all right. I'm with the Doctor and her friend in Sheffield. We've sort of lost the TARDIS.”

“You've lost—“ Jack cuts himself off. “Hang on. Which Doctor?”

“Erm, blonde? Woman. Northern accent again.”

“Well, you know, lots of planets have a north,” Jack says.

Rose laughs. “Exactly.”

“Which friend? Last I met her, she had three.” And then, before Rose can answer, Jack says, “Wait, no, let me guess. Yasmin Khan?”

“Right in one,” Rose says, exchanging a grin with Yaz. “And she's in the room with me, so don't share any deep dark secrets.”

“Oi, anything he can say to you, he can say to me,” Yaz says. “I've had to hear about his fourple.”

“His what?” Rose shakes her head. “You know what? I don't want to know.”

“Tell Yaz I say hi.”

Rose glances at Yaz. “He says hi.”

Yaz grins. “Hiya!” 

“She says hi back,” Rose tells Jack.

Yaz stands up with her plate and disappears into the kitchen.

“I'll say this,” Jack says. “You picked a hell of a time to lose the TARDIS.”

Rose grimaces. “I know. The police picked it up. And they've shut down all non-essential business. We can't get it back.”

“So, where are you sleeping?” Jack asks. “Hang on. Don't tell me you've got the Doctor in a flat.”

“Fine, I won't tell you.” Rose leans back, laughing.

“She's gone domestic!”

“Hardly. She can't sit still for more than a few seconds. Went out for a run yesterday, came back with a cat. Said it was boring, with no one chasing you.”

“Yeah, that's our Doctor, all right.” Jack's smile is audible. It almost covers the pang in Rose's heart when she hears the phrase our Doctor. “Tell her I say hi. And I'll have to come up and visit you one of these days, when this virus situation dies down. If you're still here by then, of course.”

“You'd better,” Rose says. Tears, never far away, spring to her eyes again. “I've missed you.”

“Missed you too, Rose Tyler.”

“Oh, I didn't tell you.” Rose sits up, her left thumb running over her wedding ring. “I've changed it. It's Tyler-Noble now.”

“You got married?” Jack's voice is nothing short of incredulous, but the good sort: the sort of incredulous that holds nothing but joy. The sort of incredulous that lets Rose forget about her loss for a moment.

“Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, John and I got married. Er, that's what he called himself.”

“Never was creative with names. But he took Donna's?”

Rose smiles. “Yeah. ‘Cause he was part her.”

“How long ago did you—“

“Few months.”

She can hear Jack's stunned exhale through the phone.

“Did you know—“

“Yeah.” Rose takes a deep breath. “We wanted to do it before I left.” She can feel herself starting to cry, and she doesn't try to stop herself. “He was so good, Jack. So good to me, and such a good man.” She sniffles. “Still is, probably. In the other universe. We could only manage to get one person through.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah.” Rose is so tired of crying. She's tired of grieving: she's been grieving John, grieving her family, grieving her own humanity, for months now, much longer than she's actually been back in this universe. She's been grieving in advance, and now she's just grieving, and at a certain point, it becomes too much. “Anyway. Enough about me. How have you been?”

Jack takes the hint. He starts rambling on about some trip to Spain, involving one alien invasion and approximately twenty very attractive men. At some point in the middle, Yaz comes back in: she lies on her bed with a book, paying no mind to Rose’s laughter.

“You haven't changed a bit,” Rose says when Jack finishes.

“No, I have not,” Jack agrees with glee.

“How old are you now?” Rose asks.

She knows how Jack will respond a moment before he does. “Never ask a lady her age.”

“Oh, all right, then.” Rose grins.

There's a sound in the background on Jack's end, and he says, “Look, Rose, I've got to go. But talk again soon?”

“You'll get tired of me,” Rose promises. She means it, too: she's missed talking to Jack. There's not much in this universe she's happy about, but Jack makes the list.

“I'd better. Love you, Rose.” He says it casually, like he says it every day. He probably does, to some of the people in his life. But it warms Rose's heart all the same.

“You too,” she says. “Talk to you later.”

“Bye.”

Rose flips her phone shut, letting out a long breath.

“Is the Doctor up yet?” she asks Yaz.

Yaz looks up from her book. “Don't think so. I'd give her at least another half hour.”

“Great.” Well, at least it's an excuse to procrastinate that conversation. Rose fiddles with the phone in her hands. “You've met Jack?”

Yaz closes her book, sitting up. “Yeah. He helped us out last year.” She hesitates. “I think he mentioned you, actually.”

“Yeah?”

Yaz nods. “Said you made him immortal.”

“Suppose I did.” Rose shrugs. “It was a bit of a weird day. I didn't find out what I'd done for years.”

“Was that the same time you looked into the TARDIS?” Yaz asks.

“Yeah. Jack was there.” Rose takes a deep breath. “We'd been traveling together a while. Us and the Doctor. We were all— we were all happy, for a moment. And then we were on this space station, five hundred thousand years in the future, and there were Daleks, and—“

“You said the Doctor sent you back to Earth.”

“He did.” Rose remembers it like it was yesterday: the hologram, the TARDIS starting its flight, the horrible sinking fear in her stomach as she realized what the Doctor had done. “Stupid of him, really.”

Yaz laughs.

“Don't know how he thought I wasn't going to find my way back.” Rose smiles slightly. “'Course, I had help. My mum borrowed a truck off some bloke she'd slept with. We tied it to the TARDIS console and pulled it right open.”

“We did that,” Yaz says. “Opened the TARDIS, I mean. When we were fighting the Flux.” She shrugs. “Didn't take a truck, but didn't do much against the Flux, either.”

Rose smiles. “Probably easier when the Doctor's there. I didn't know the first thing about the TARDIS, at the time. Just knew that if I could get the console open, I'd be able to get back to the Doctor.”

“Impressive.”

“If I hadn't thought of that, I would've done something else,” Rose says. “Just wanted to get back.” She shrugs. “'Course, I wasn't exactly thinking of the long-term consequences.”

“What happened?” Yaz asks. “I mean, when you did it?”

The whole memory is shrouded in a thick golden fog in Rose's mind, but she tries her best. “It was— it's hard to explain. It was so much, all crammed into my head. The TARDIS sees all of time and space, all at once. The past, the present, the future. Everywhere. It wasn't linear, but there were these— patterns, sort of— and I could disrupt the patterns.” She lists her deeds like she's reading off a grocery list, monotonous, routine. “I made the TARDIS take me back to the Doctor. Disintegrated the Daleks. Jack had died; I brought him back to life. And it stuck, apparently.” She waves a hand. “But most of that, I found out later. Most of what I remember is just this awful headache. All of time, crammed into my head— and what I remember is how much it hurt.” She shakes her head. “Should've killed me.”

“Why didn't it?” Yaz is leaning forward now, invested in the story.

“The Doctor.” Her first Doctor, the one with the buzz cut and the leather jacket and the dangerous grin. “He kissed me. Absorbed all the vortex energy that was running through my body. He regenerated.” She looks at Yaz. “The picture I showed you— that's what he looked like after.”

“Wow.” Yaz shakes her head. “No wonder your body's different now.”

“Yeah.” Rose looks down at her hands. “I don't feel any different, though. I mean, I'm older. And I'm sicker. But emotionally, mentally, I never felt like I changed. It's weird to think about.”

“Yeah.” Yaz's eyes stay on Rose, and for a moment Rose thinks she's going to say something else. But then there's the sound of footsteps, and then the clattering of pots and pans, and Yaz and Rose both sit up straight.

“The Doctor,” Yaz says.

Rose pushes herself to her feet. “Suppose I'd better go talk to her.”

“D'you want me to come with you?” Yaz is already halfway up.

“Sure,” Rose says with a shrug. “Strength in numbers, isn't there?” She pushes the door open and steps out into the kitchen, Yaz close behind. The Doctor is in the kitchen, already boiling something on the stove: from the smell, Rose has a sneaking suspicion it's maple syrup. There's a bowl of some kind of batter next to the stove, and some of the batter seems to have escaped the bowl and fallen onto the counter. The bags of flour and sugar are still sitting out, alongside a carton of milk. All told, it's a bit of a mess. But that's not really Rose's problem.

“What are you making?” Yaz asks.

The Doctor whirls around. “Yaz! Rose!” And then she remembers the stove and whirls back, still talking. “I'm making pancakes! But you know, pancakes, they always get served with maple syrup, so I thought, what if I cooked them in the maple syrup?” She scoops up some batter in a plastic ladle and pours it into the syrup, then turns back around, wielding the ladle. “Two birds, one stone!”

“You're dripping.” Yaz nods to the ladle, which is, indeed, dripping batter onto the floor. The Doctor looks at it as if she's never seen a ladle before.

“Ah! So I am.” She turns back around, dropping the ladle into the batter. “The problem is, as it turns out, maple syrup burns very quickly. So I'm not sure it's going to work out. Still! I'm having fun, and that's what matters, isn't it?”

“I guess,” Yaz says, still skeptical.

“Doctor,” Rose says.

The Doctor turns, looking at Rose with expectant eyes. Suddenly, Rose is so very unsure of herself. She didn't think what she would say when she asked the Doctor about this: and now she regrets it. She should've come in more prepared.

“I was wondering— Bad Wolf.” Rose hesitates. “D'you think it could've affected how my body processes food?”

“Oh, that!” the Doctor exclaims. She turns back to her own food. “'Course it did. I was surprised you were still eating at all, actually.”

Rose's eyebrows shoot up. “Sorry, what?”

“I mean— you didn't know? Sorry, thought it would be obvious.”

Rose stares. “Doctor, I was born completely human. Until half a year ago, I thought I was still completely human. In what universe is it obvious that my body has changed to the point where I shouldn't be eating human food? ‘Cause it sure isn't either of the universes I've lived in.”

The Doctor steps back. She has the decency to look chastened. “Sorry,” she says again. “Suppose I forget. It's not supposed to be in your biology, rewriting all your cells like that.”

“Yeah.” Rose can't stop the bitterness from creeping into her voice. “We don't know what's in my biology, anymore.”

The Doctor stares into Rose's eyes with an intensity that makes Rose want to look away. She doesn't.

“The second we get the TARDIS back,” the Doctor says, “we'll figure out everything. Promise.” She's completely still: it's such a contrast from her habitual bounce.

Rose sighs. “Yeah. Shouldn't lash out at you over it, really.” She raises her eyebrows. “But you should've said something about the food thing.”

“I should've.” The Doctor's face is so open, so earnest, that it catches Rose by surprise. She hasn't really thought this Doctor was capable of that kind of honesty, that kind of accountability— if Rose is being honest with herself, it wasn't her Doctor's forte, either. 

She feels a flicker of warmth in her stomach, but then she pushes it down. No point in getting her hopes up. She breaks eye contact. 

“Yeah, well. Too late now, I guess.” Stepping back, she adds, “Suppose you two are welcome to my food, then. Seeing as I won't be needing it.” 

And then she steps past the Doctor and into the living room, where she falls down on the sofa. Ruby comes up to her, climbing up on the sofa and hovering a couple inches away. Rose lifts a hand, and Ruby slides under it, curling up against Rose again. Rose closes her eyes. She doesn't know how to begin to process everything that's happened even just this morning, so she doesn't try. She just sits, scratching behind Ruby's ears, trying to reach some kind of calm.

[raywritesthings]

Can’t Bear to Lose 3/?

My Writing Fandom: Doctor Who Characters: Donna Noble, Tenth Doctor Pairing: Doctor/Donna Summary: The DoctorDonna supposedly thinks of things the Doctor never would. Why not a way to fix the metacrisis? AO3 link

Recently, Donna had been quiet. Lost in her head. The Doctor tried not to let it bother him.

But it did.

What if she was having second thoughts about the repair kit? Eternity was a long time, and while Wilfred and Sylvia were still a phone call or a short trip away, to an immortal like Donna, that would be over in no time at all.

She probably resented him. Maybe she’d been the one to think of the Mire, but she only had because it had been in his head. It was his fault she was this way, there was no way around that. Of course she resented him.

He decided to give her her space, heading under the console for some long-overdue maintenance. He’d only been at it for an hour that particular day, however, when Donna came to find him.

“Spaceman?”

“Yeah?”

“So I was thinking about the other repair kit.”

The Doctor climbed out from under the grating. “Did you decide who you wanted to use it on?”

“Maybe.” She chewed on her lip for a moment, and the Doctor found himself increasingly curious. He hadn’t thought they’d met anyone recently that Donna had gotten that attached to.

“How soon do you have to use it on somebody for it to work? If they’re injured or- or dead, even.”

He blinked. “Um, well, hard to say. I think there’s a bit of a grace period. Probably if I studied the mechanics a little more extensively I could give you a better answer. Why?”

“Well, I was sort of thinking — if it were possible, I mean, that we could, um, go back and- and,” she stammered, twisting her fingers around each other and not quite meeting his eyes.

“Donna, what is it?” He was starting to fear the worst, but surely Donna wasn’t about to suggest reviving a family member that had passed on. She wasn’t irresponsible that way, and she’d have to realize the repercussions on time—

“Jenny,” she suddenly blurted. “I thought we could go back to Messaline and use it on Jenny.”

His mouth fell open, but he couldn’t find his voice.

“Cos we didn’t see her funeral, right? So who’s to say she even had one? It wouldn’t be rewriting the timeline. We just go back after we left.” She took a step towards him. “Would that be okay?”

“Okay?” He echoed numbly.

“I’m not bringing it up just to make things worse.” Donna was watching him nervously, clearly thinking she’d overstepped. “I only mean, if it’s possible, that’s what I want to do.”

The Doctor had a million thoughts and questions, but he only managed a hoarse, “Why?”

“Because Gramps was right,” she said. “Nobody should have to live without their children. And I know I can’t make it all better, but if I can even do this much—”

Of course. “Donna, the chip is for you to use on someone you can’t lose. Not me.”

“You don’t think I miss her, too?” She wasn’t indignant, though she easily could have been. “My family’s both said no, there’s no one else I’m gonna meet—”

“You might—”

“I’m with you, you prawn,” she replied in the same breath. “That’s not changing now or ever. I am happy the way things are. The only person I could see fitting here in our life is Jenny.”

Now that she’d pointed it out, he was having a hard time not agreeing with her. Selfish though it probably was, the Doctor was rather accustomed to how things were with him and Donna both on their travels and the TARDIS, and an unknown interloper was bound to upset that. But Jenny would be different. Jenny with her wide-eyed, unbridled enthusiasm and her limitless capacity to learn.

Donna wasn’t done either. “And the way things happened, doesn’t she deserve another chance at life? Don’t we deserve another chance to get it right?”

His hearts were both doing funny things and he thought it’d probably be better if he were sitting down. But he was frozen where he was.

Jenny. He could have Jenny back. He could have his daughter back. They could be a family, not the same as the one he’d had before but no less important or special or beloved. And losing them would never be an option.

“Doctor.” Donna’s voice was as soft as the hands she laid on his chest. He met her eyes. “Will it work?”

“I think so,” he mumbled. “If we time it right, just after we left. Should still be enough for the chip to work with.”

“And then we have Jenny back.”

“And then we have Jenny back,” he repeated, a wondrous smile stretching over his lips at the words.

Donna was smiling back, so brilliant and beautiful, and he was overcome.

A laugh escaped in a single burst from him, and the Doctor kissed her, arms winding around her waist and pressing them together. He needed desperately to be as close to her as possible. They’d not had a chance to since their trip to Victorian London .

Somehow one or the both of them walked her back against one of the coral struts, and Donna’s hands were in his hair as his lips descended down her neck seeking more and more.

Between each kiss he gasped a, “Thank you,” into her skin.

“Well, don’t thank me yet,” she teased, a little breathless but not enough to stop her talking. “Let’s go and get her.”

He looked up, momentarily stunned by Donna’s hooded eyes until her words finally registered. “Right! Okay, just let me recalibrate the repair kit for Time Lord!” The Doctor raced off down the corridor and made it about halfway to his workroom before he stopped in his tracks.

“Looking for this?” Donna asked when he re-entered the console room at a sheepish trot. She held out the device in question.

“Yes, thanks.”

He took it, kissed her cheek, and left again, though not before catching her smirk as she shook her head at him.

Him, Donna, and Jenny, just like it was supposed to have been. The Doctor could hardly find it in himself to wait.

—-

The TARDIS had barely finished materializing when the Doctor wrenched the doors open. Donna made sure they’d actually parked before hurrying after him.

She didn’t blame him for his impatience; seeing his excitement made her all giddy, and she was eager to see this greatest of injustices finally undone.

“Hello?” Spaceman called.

They’d landed in the room where Jenny’s body had been laid out, only it was empty. A white cloth still rested on the table, but there was neither human nor Hath present, much less a Time Lord.

“Where is everyone?”

“Don’t know. Hello?” He paced to the archway that led out of the room and down into the tunnels. “What- what was the boy’s name?”

“Cline,” said Donna.

“Cline!”

It wasn’t long before the human and his Hath counterpart came running to meet them. “You’re back!”

“Yes, we are.”

“You’re in different clothes,” the boy noticed.

“Right, we changed,” Donna replied, hoping to get them back on topic.

The Hath bubbled something.

“Oi, that better not have been anything rude!”

“Cline, where is Jenny?” The Doctor asked.

“Jenny?” The boy looked at each of them. “Well, er, it’s a bit odd.”

“What do you mean?”

Donna could tell her Spaceman was on edge, but it didn’t sound as though they’d been too late. Rather that something unexpected had gone on in their absence.

“She sort of…” He started, seeming confused more than anything. Cline turned to the Hath, who bubbled again. “Well, yeah, guess I am telling her dad.”

“Cline,” said Donna. “Just try to explain what happened. Doesn’t matter how strange, we’ll believe you.”

“Well, we were preparing the ceremony, only this gold smoke sort of left her mouth and she woke up.”

“What?” They shouted together.

“It was like she’d never been shot. Just completely fine.”

“Hold on, gold smoke?” Donna turned to the Doctor. “Is that regeneration?”

“It can be a side effect of one that’s recently happened,” he told her.

“But she didn’t change?”

“Maybe her being born counted as a regeneration. Hard to say when she’s the only Time Lord like her in existence. One of a kind.” The Doctor wasn’t quite looking at any of them, seeming to need a minute to process his shock. Donna thought he sounded a tiny bit proud nonetheless.

Then he looked up. “Cline, where is she?”

“Er, well that’s the thing. She left.”

Donna’s mouth fell open.

“Left? Left for where? What’s there to leave in?” The Doctor spat each question out one after the other too fast for anyone to hope to answer. “You haven’t even got a proper atmosphere yet!”

Cline gestured vaguely behind him. “We had the settler’s rocket. She took that.”

“Oh, my God,” said Donna. “Well, if there was any doubt left she was your daughter—”

“How long ago did she leave?” The Doctor was already asking. “Do you have some sort of tracking system for the rocket?”

“We didn’t even know we had it till today,” Cline reminded them. “I’d say she left within a half hour.”

“Half an hour,” the Doctor echoed, his hands going up into his hair. He paced away from them.

“How far do you think she could get?” Donna asked.

“Depends on the make of the rocket, the speeds it could reach. But I don’t even know what all they had on board.” He spun back around towards her, and, thick as she knew it was, she really did have to worry about his hair with the way he was nearly ripping it from his head. “What if there was no navigation system? She’s got no idea what’s out there. She could be flying it straight into a asteroid belt!”

“Okay, well, let’s not panic,” said Donna, which seemed useless to her when she wanted nothing more than to panic. “We’ll just have to look. Find the nearest planets or- or asteroids or what have you and see if she’s landed there.”

“That could take ages!”

“Well, good thing I’ve got the rest of my eternal life then!” Donna stepped forward and tugged his hands down. “We’re going to find her, Doctor. No matter how long it takes.”

His harsh breathing gradually calmed as she held his gaze. Then he swallowed and nodded once.

“Where do we start?” Donna asked him.

“We’ll need a map of the surrounding planets in this system. The TARDIS should be able to provide one. Come on!”

The Doctor took her hand and raced right back into the ship. He let her take care of most of the dematerialization process while he started bringing up information on the monitor screen.

“It’s going to be important to get the timing right, too. If we land too early or too late we’ll miss her.”

“How do we know if we’ve got the timing right?”

He looked up at her. “Uh, well, we’re mostly guessing.”

Donna snorted. “Brilliant. Business as usual, then.”

There was one marked difference, though. This time, they weren’t just wandering. They had a goal, something to set their sites on.

And though she hoped it’d be short, their search for Jenny was bound to be quite the adventure.

[megabadbunny]

if we let go (5/?)

A lazy smile quirks Rose’s lips. She doesn’t know why she’s so surprised. She did say he was the one who let her in, after all. It’s just nice, she supposes, to be right about something for once. (It’s very nice to be right about him.)

Right after Journey’s End, Rose gets a choice, even if she has to carve it out for herself. This chapter has lemons; visit ff.net for a citrus-free experience.

***

prologue | chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5

chapter five: you gave me a life i never chose

After what feels like a lifetime (but is, in actuality, a mere thirteen hours, seventeen minutes, and forty-six seconds), amidst a landslide of half-empty teacups and coffee mugs and medical-technical gear and bits and bobs, the medscreen finally (finally) begins to beep.

“Really?” murmurs the Doctor, straightening up from his slumped position over his research materials for the first time in hours. Hardly daring to believe, he reaches for the device with only the smallest amount of trepidation, mentally preparing himself for whatever he might find there. He flips the screen his way. And there, amidst a string of medical technobabble reassuring him of Donna’s stasis (respiratory and cardiopulmonary systems going a little faster than he’d like, but stable enough, considering), reads a string of text distinctly unlike the rest:

<oi>

<oi spaceman>

<you there>

Eyes widening, the Doctor reads the text again, over and over, barely able to process what he’s seeing (never mind that he engineered things for this very purpose—the fact that it all worked is nothing short of miraculous).

The device beeps again as new text blinks across the screen, bright white lines flashing cheerfully against the grey. 

<oi doctor i’m talking to you>

<i can only imagine you’ve got something to do with this>

<whatever this is>

<speaking of which, where the hell am i>

<what’s going on>

<why can’t i move>

<can anyone hear me here>

<hello>

<hELLo spaceman are you ThErE>

“Yes, yes,” the Doctor stammers immediately, out of instinct, more than anything—doubtful Donna can hear him right now, after all, even if he is stationed just a few feet away from her comatose self. Half-panicked, half-giddy beyond belief, the Doctor scrambles around in the technological viscera scattered over the medbay counter until he finds all the pieces he’s looking for (cables, clamps, Martha’s old mobile, a webcam the size of a thumbtack plucked from the year 2057, a simple jury-rigged electroencephalographic scope, the usual) before realizing that, oh, right, Donna would probably like an answer, wouldn’t she? and abandoning it all to type out a quick <<Yep, I’m here>> before he returns to the task at hand.

<great> flashes across the screen in response. <so you gonna tell me what the hell is going on? or where the hell i am? or why’s it so dark here? or why can’t i move?>

<<Why, hello, Donna! It’s nice to hear from you, too>> the Doctor types into the medscreen, even as he smiles. <<No need to thank me for saving your brain from immediate and irreversible liquidation, original memories fully intact and pristine. The dulcet vision of your digital voice is the only accolade I need.>>

<glad to hear it>

<now answer my questions please dumbo>

<<You’re still on the TARDIS. You can’t move or see or otherwise process external stimuli because you’re in a medically-induced coma.>>

<well isn’t that wizard> reads the immediate response in a tone so reminiscent of Donna that the Doctor can’t help but laugh. <you wanna tell me why i’m in a coma?>

Smiling, the Doctor shakes his head. <<In the wake of the metacrisis-event, due to the external memories’ rapid deterioration of your brain, I’ve telepathically isolated the offending elements from your neural network and blocked them from re-entry>> he explains, typing between bouts of plugging in cables and adjusting dials on the electroencephalographic scope. <<Unfortunately, the best way to maintain the integrity of the telepathic blocks involves keeping your conscious mind safe from anything that might trigger the memory of the offending elements, which involves putting you in a persistent vegetative state until we can find a way to safely and permanently extract the metacrisis material from your temporal and parietal lobes, without damaging any of the surrounding tissue or neural pathways. Got it?>>

If the medscreen could convey an exasperated sigh, the Doctor imagines it would right about now. <in english please> the screen flashes at him.

The Doctor grins madly as he works, relief bubbling up in his head until he’s almost dizzy from it. He’s never been so happy for a companion to do the digital equivalent of offering him nothing but a blank stare; no more babbling about macrotransmissions or shatterfrying or mountains that sway in the breeze means his telepathic blocks are holding firm. That means no more Time Lord knowledge overwhelming human brains, which means that, for the time being anyway, Donna’s safe.

Which means, he realizes as he fishes his specs out of his pocket, that he may actually have a chance of saving her.

<<My memories are still in your head and you’re stuck in a coma until I can remove them>> he types to Donna. <<But don’t worry, in the meantime I’ve rigged up this handy-dandy medical transceiver and plugged it directly into your subconscious so we can still communicate!>>

<oh god no> flashes across the screen. <doctor do NOT make me a brain in a computer, i expressly forbid it>

<<Wouldn’t dream of it>> the Doctor replies before affixing the tiny webcam to the side of his specs.

<good>

<why do you need to talk to me anyways>

<or talk to my brain or my subconscious or whatever>

<not like i’ll be any help, can’t see or hear or do anything>

“Oh, ye of little faith,” murmurs the Doctor, slipping on his glasses and fiddling with the settings on Martha’s mobile phone. “When have I ever let you down?”

“That tatty old suit lets down my sense of fashion every single day,” mutters a digitized version of Donna’s voice, and the Doctor laughs, now, properly laughs. A spluttered sound of indignant surprise erupts from the webcam’s built-in speaker, and the Doctor laughs harder, imagining the shock that would sweep across Donna’s face right now, were it capable.

“Oh my god!” shouts Donna’s voice from the speaker, disjointed and tinny in that way that voices-projected-from-telephonic-devices often are, but still her voice, nonetheless. “Doctor, I can hear you!”

“Yes!”

“And you can hear me!” yells Donna’s voice.

“Oh, yes!” the Doctor shouts gleefully in reply.

“But how? I’m still asleep, aren’t I? I still can’t move or see anything—”

“Well, then,” says the Doctor, fiddling with more settings on the mobile as he smiles what may or may not be the universe’s smuggest grin, “Let there be light!”

He hits one last button and is rewarded with a high-pitched screech not unlike one that might rip out of a pterodactyl. “I can see!” Donna shrieks, and silently, the Doctor adjusts the webcam-speaker’s volume, lest Donna’s voice split his eardrums or manage to wake her own comatose body somehow. “Oh my god, I can see the TARDIS—her walls, I mean—and cabinets and lights and—you’re in the medbay, right? Oh, you are—cos that’s me over there on the bed, isn’t it? Oof, I look a bit peaky, don’t I? But how on earth—?”

“Oh, it was just a small matter of rigging together the right materials to tap into your subconscious mind. Simple enough, if you’ve got a spare mobile and travel-size electroencephalographic scope lying around. A direct line, if you will,” the Doctor laughs. “Doesn’t get much more direct than this!”

“This is bonkers, absolutely bonkers. I can’t believe you managed it!”

“Didn’t I mention, though?” asks the Doctor as he springs up, feeling lighter than he has in days—maybe weeks, maybe longer. “I’m brilliant!”

“You really are,” Donna concedes, and in any other situation, the Doctor might feel mildly insulted at how surprised she sounds to admit it. “So, what do we do, now? What’s the next step?”

The Doctor considers as he darts over to Donna’s body on the bed, double- and triple-checking her vitals, just to be sure. “Well, now that the imminent danger has passed, I suppose it’s time to do a little research, scan our local solar systems to locate the equipment we need to finish the memory extraction.”

“Sounds good to me. The sooner I stop being a vegetable, the better, and if anyone can fix that, it’s you.”

No, not just him, a stubborn little voice at the back of the Doctor’s head insists. Not him. Them. Because in all honesty, the only reason he’s got any hope at all right now is all because of—

He chuckles, silently chiding himself. He really can be an idiot, sometimes. Doubting himself. Doubting her. He should know better than to distrust Rose’s instincts, whether they’re telling her to help Donna or bolt back for the TARDIS at the last second or anything else; for all he knows, her intuition could very well be a side effect borne of the Bad Wolf phenomenon (but really, he suspects it’s all just her and her gut, in the end. She’s surprisingly insightful, for a human. Always has been. He’d do well to remember that, he thinks).

Looking down at the medscreen, at the numbers displayed across its surface showing a significant calming-down of Donna’s vitals, the Doctor softens. Rose was right, in more ways than one. The Doctor reminds himself to apologize to her at the first available opportunity—though really, he thinks as he stows the medscreen and all of its connected parts safely inside his pockets, wouldn’t she prefer that he showed her how right she was, instead of telling her?

“Hang on, how come my hands look like your hands?” asks Donna, interrupting his thoughts. “I mean, obviously they’re your hands, but it’s the wrong angle, like they’re coming out of me instead of you. Like a first-person videogame thing. Am I seeing the world through your eyes, right now?”

“Near enough,” the Doctor replies cheerfully.

“Okay, but—but not like. Not literally though. Right?”

“Strictly figuratively,” the Doctor laughs. “Don’t worry, Donna. It’s all in the glasses.”

“Oh, thank god. The thought of accidentally seeing you naked again makes me throw up in my mouth a little bit.”

“On second thought, maybe I’ll leave you in the coma after all,” says the Doctor.

 ***

 Rose awakes with a start, tensing at the weight pressed against her, the unfamiliar room surrounding her. Her first thought is that she must have been knocked unconscious during a jump gone wrong—not terribly common, but it’s happened before—but as her eyes adjust to the semi-dark, taking in everything in the room from the curved ceiling to the carpeted floor to the telltale rough coral walls, recognition slowly filters in, and she remembers.

She made it. She made it back to this universe. She made it back to the TARDIS, back to the Doctor. (Doctors, plural? Both of them, then.) And he—

Oh. That weight, that body pressed close—that must be him. One of them is with her right now, isn’t he? Because this is his room, isn’t it? And if she turns over, Rose will see the Doctor lying in bed next to her, won’t she?

Her limbs still thick and heavy with sleep, Rose lazily rolls over to find the Doctor (the human one, she remembers, because that’s a thing, now), curled on his side and fast asleep. Slumber-tousled hair tumbles over a forehead smooth from worry, the Doctor’s mouth parted just slightly, his eyes shuttered, as if in prayer. It’s strange seeing him like this, not because of their years apart, not even because they’re both lying in his unfamiliar bed, but because Rose is casting about in her memories to recall the last time she ever saw him so quiet and unguarded, and she’s coming up empty-handed. She has seen him sleep before, technically; that’s not new. But she has never seen him really, properly vulnerable, in this body or any other. She’s never seen him look so human.

Human or not, it’s surreal to be so close to the Doctor right now, after so many years apart. So Rose just watches him for a moment, just taking everything in. Part of her can’t believe it, even though he’s right here, right in front of her. It’s all almost too much to absorb.

(Only almost, though. God, he’s pretty like this. Then again, he’s pretty much always pretty.)

Probably she should go ahead and get up (escape, she doesn’t think, before the moment swells too much in its sentimentality, before he wakes up and goes flighty, before she grows vulnerable herself), but struck with a sudden curious need, Rose shifts in the bed instead, one hand lifting up. She places her palm flat against the Doctor’s chest, gently, feeling its rise and fall with each deep inhale and soft exhale, before tracing a line down to the bottom of his ribcage. She can sense his heart beating, behind layers of tee shirt and skin and muscle and bone, pulsing quietly almost in time with her own.

It’s all very different. But not bad different.

“I thought I was the rude one,” mutters the Doctor, eyes still solidly shut.

Rose twitches. “Huh?”

“I thought,” the Doctor repeats, eyes sliding slowly open, “that I was the rude one.”

There goes her plan. “Oh, don’t worry,” Rose chuckles. “You’re plenty rude.”

“Says the person trying to tickle me awake.”

Cringing, Rose starts to draw her hand back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

The Doctor stops her hand before it can withdraw very far, anchoring her fingers and palm solidly back against his chest. “S’all right,” he mumbles, blinking sleep away. “Probably a good time to get up anyway.”

He’s right.

Neither of them moves.

“Did you end up getting any actual sleep last night?” Rose asks.

“Do you know, I think I did, after…” the Doctor starts to say, and trails off. Rose can practically see the memory of the night before as it replays in his mind, and admittedly, it’s a little difficult to tell in the semi-dark, but is he blushing? “After you came in,” he says hurriedly. “What about you?”

“Yeah,” says Rose, hiding a grin. “I’m good.”

He smiles at her then, almost shyly. “Good.”

And that marks a good time to get up, Rose thinks. For her to put space between them before he has the chance to. 

(Except he still hasn’t moved his hand from hers. Palm pressed against his chest, Rose can feel his heartrate pick up beneath her fingers, and suddenly she’s very warm, and moving seems difficult.)

“But, like I said, probably good to go ahead and get up,” the Doctor says quickly, and Rose imagines that if his hand weren’t full of hers, he’d be nervously tugging on his ear right about now. “You know. Get the day started, and all that.”

“Probably. What time is it?”

At that, the Doctor blinks just a little too much, fully awake now. “Well,” he says, drawing the word out. “That’s sort of an interesting question, isn’t it? What time is it. Difficult to answer, considering the relativity of time (especially on the TARDIS), and taking into account that there’s no real universal chronometrical measurement or standard, and we’re really just relying on observations alone, which can vary greatly depending on the observers’ proximity to a gravitational mass—”

“You don’t know,” Rose realizes aloud.

After stuttering for a second, the Doctor closes his mouth. He shakes his head, the motion tight.

“Because of the metacrisis?

He nods.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and she means it.

He shrugs. “It’s no worries.”

“Not even a few worries?” Rose asks, lips quirking in a small smile.

“Eh, I’m sure I can manage without the time sense. Plenty of species do. Now, the bypass, on the other hand...”

As if on cue, the Doctor starts to yawn, only to snap his mouth shut halfway through. “Oh,” he says, nose wrinkling in disgust. “Rose, I don’t mean to alarm you, but I think I might have morning breath now.”

Rose chuckles. “Many of us do.”

“Well, isn’t that wizard,” the Doctor says drily. “Being human is just wonderful, can’t imagine why I never tried it long-term before.”

“It’s not all bad, you know.”

“Hmph. I’ll believe it when I see it,” he grumps. “Or hear it or smell it or feel it or taste it, as the case may be.”

Humming thoughtfully, Rose takes a moment to consider. Her fight-or-flight instinct is still murmuring quietly in the background, telling her that this is as good a moment as any to end the conversation, go ahead and get up and wash up and go about their day, whatever it may bring; the sooner she leaves this warm little cocoon, after all, the sooner Rose will be able to build her walls back up, retreat back to safe territory. Before things get out of hand. Before she has a chance to get hurt again. (Before any of them do.)

She ignores it.

“That,” Rose says, scooting just a little bit closer to him (just the littlest bit closer, mind), “sounds like an awful lot like a challenge.”

“Oh?” asks the Doctor, eyebrow arched in amusement.

“Yes,” she says solemnly, nodding. “Tell me: what do your human eyes see?”

“Plenty of stuff. It’s not my physical sensory capabilities that concern me.”

“Humor me.” Rose curls her fist against his chest. “What do you see right now?”

Beneath his ribcage, Rose swears she feels his pulse skip a beat. “Well,” says the Doctor, “not to belabor the obvious, but I see you. In my bedroom. In my bed, of all places.”

“That’s not so bad, is it?” Rose asks cheekily, tongue pressed against the back of her teeth.

The Doctor grins at her in a way that makes something flutter in her stomach. “Not bad at all,” he concedes.

Rose smiles. “And what can you hear?”

“All the same things you can, I imagine. Your voice, my voice, the TARDIS’ hum,” the Doctor counts off, “the buzz of the temporal-spacial equinometer, the quiet hiss of the life support system, faint overtures of the Vortex—”

“Right, of course I can hear all of that,” teases Rose, rolling her eyes.

“The sounds of you wriggling in the sheets like the squirmy little thing you are…”

With a laugh, Rose’s smile widens. “How’s about your nose?”

The Doctor wrinkles said nose again. “Aside from my aforementioned temporary halitosis, let’s see. It’s picking up on a hint of recycled oxygen courtesy of the TARDIS, traces of residual space matter from our time onboard the Crucible, traces of the toothpaste you used last night…”

He leans in closer, making a show of sniffing her hair. “Moringa oleifera, arginine, extracts of Fragaria ananassa, other components of your shampoo. Still partial to strawberry, hm?”

“Now you’re just showing off,” Rose laughs, and he laughs too, nodding enthusiastically.

They are very close now.

The Doctor hasn’t moved his hand, still holding hers against his chest, but that’s all right; Rose’s other hand is free, and, feeling brazen, she reaches up with it now, to run her fingers through the Doctor’s gloriously rumpled hair. If his hair is any different from his Time Lord counterpart’s, she can’t tell; it’s still thick, smooth, stupidly pretty. Her fingertips glance against his scalp first, scraping lightly after, and the Doctor’s eyes threaten to shutter closed, fluttering like he’s fighting to stay awake.

“What do you feel?” Rose asks him.

The Doctor hums deep in his belly, the sound rumbling against Rose’s fingers. “Sleepy, if you keep doing that.”

Rose’s hand slowly drifts downward, tracing a path from the Doctor’s ear down to his shoulder, joining its counterpart on the Doctor’s chest.

“Suppose you’re going to suggest I eat some candy or a biscuit next,” the Doctor chuckles wryly. 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Certainly. What better way to appeal to my sense of taste and thereby prove your point?”

Rose considers for just a split-second before she draws in close to kiss him. It’s impulsive, and her heart races in her ears for all that it’s a short and sweet and chaste kiss, but it’s worth it for the small sound of surprise the Doctor makes when her lips meet his, and the dazed look on his face when she pulls back.

The Doctor blinks at her. “Do you know,” he replies, just the tiniest bit breathlessly, “I might be willing to slightly revise my stance on my newfound humanity.”

“Just slightly?”

“Just a little bit,” the Doctor agrees before leaning in to return the kiss. His lips work softly against hers, the pressure light, relaxed, and Rose melts into it immediately, even as some distant part of her brain still reels in disbelief that this sort of thing happens, now, that this is something they can do—that they can see each other, and hear, and smell, and feel, and, as the Doctor’s lips part to grant entry to Rose’s tongue, taste. Rose’s tongue glances against his briefly before retreating and he chases after her, suddenly starving. Distantly, she thinks she should tease him that his morning breath isn’t that bad after all; presently, she wonders how the Doctor would react if she pulled off his boxers, if he would rather straddle or be straddled. Her hands fist in his tee-shirt, his pulse speeding up against her knuckles as she pulls him in until they’re so close, they’re nearly touching, the scant space between them nearly buzzing with the desire to be bridged.

The Doctor breaks the kiss long enough to catch his breath, and if Rose didn’t know any better, she’d think he was gasping. “We,” he starts to say, and swallows. Sighs. “Erm. We really should…”

“Get up now?” Rose supplies, but she doesn’t move away, closes the whisper of a gap between them instead.

“Hmm. We should,” says the Doctor, even as he bends down to press a kiss, featherlight, to the pulse point beneath Rose’s jaw.

Her breath hitches in her throat and she fights not to let her eyes fall shut. It’s impossible not to feel a little giddy at the closeness of him, the sudden sensation of their bodies sliding together, skin achingly close to skin; she wonders if that’s as true for him as it is for her, with all his fresh new cells and nerves buzzing beneath thin layers of clothing and pretense. 

“Yeah,” she sighs, hands slipping down to the elastic of his boxers. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, last night was—”

“Unexpected, but inspired?” asks the Doctor as he kisses her neck.

“And probably a little too much, too soon,” Rose adds, playing with his waistband. “Better to ease into this sort of thing, right?”

“That would be very responsible of us.” 

“Yeah,” Rose pants as the Doctor insinuates one of his legs between hers. “We should take things slow. Make sure…”

“No one gets hurt?”

She slips a finger beneath his waistband. “Are you talking about the two of us, or—”

“Much as I hate to admit it, this equation has three variables.” The Doctor nips her collarbone, soothing the hurt with his tongue after, sending heat pooling deep in Rose’s belly. She fights the urge to grind down on the Doctor’s thigh. “And as much as I’d like to pretend it doesn’t matter,” the Doctor continues, as if he doesn’t notice how hot and wet she suddenly is, “the other me is bound to have conflicting thoughts about all of this.”

“Then maybe he shouldn’t keep pushing me away,” says Rose, running a teasing thumb along his hipbone, relishing the feel of him stiffening against her.

“A fair and rational point,” the Doctor concedes, even as he shudders and kisses the swell of her breast, his lips warm and soft through the fabric of her shirt. “But I’m not sure how much rationality applies in situations like this.”

Rose pulls back enough to properly look at him. “He’s not the one who let me in,” she tells the Doctor, her gaze hard. “He’s not the one who stayed.”

“So is this a reward for me, or a punishment for him?” the Doctor asks. 

He doesn’t look angry, or sad. There’s no blame in his tone. His expression is perfectly neutral, like a scientist putting forth a vague hypothetical. Rose sees through it immediately.

“There’s no one else in this room,” she tells him, “but you, and me.”

The Doctor nods. “Good,” he breathes, and Rose kisses him again, fiercely this time. It’s a bruising thing, greedy even, but neither of them are complaining as Rose’s tongue slides over his, slick and warm and sweet. The Doctor groans into her mouth as her thigh brushes against his cock, as she finally surrenders to the urge to grind down on his leg; his fingers knot in her hair as he takes control of the kiss and it’s only a little frantic, the way they’re clinging to each other, and it’s awkward, this tangled mess of clothes and limbs, but it’s delicious, too, the friction and the need and the way the Doctor maybe-accidentally bites her lip when Rose’s hand slips into his boxers to stroke him from base to tip.

He’s hot in her hand, hot and hard and wonderfully human and his reactions are human too, as he abandons the kiss in favor of burying his face in the join of Rose’s neck and shoulder, panting, his hands flying down to clench her by the hips, pulling her into him. A moment later and he’s pulling at her tee shirt, dislodging her hand from his shorts so he can strip her shirt all the way up and off. After urging Rose onto her back, the Doctor takes just a second to appreciate the view, his eyes at half-mast and lips just parted, before he dips down to kiss her breasts. Swearing under her breath, Rose arches off the bed, into his touch; he rewards her with his fingers on one nipple and his mouth on the other, teasing both to stiff, sensitive attention.

His thigh is still wedged between hers and Rose grinds down wantonly, practically whimpering, grateful for the chance to relieve the mounting ache throbbing between her legs. She wants so badly to touch him again but it’s difficult, positioned the way they are, and it’s only made more difficult when his hand leaves her breast in favor of sneaking beneath the waistband of her borrowed boxers, brushing featherlight and tentative over the seam of her sex. At that point it’s almost impossible to think about anything but his mouth on her breast and his fingers gently stroking her and how it’s so good, it’s so good, it’s almost perfect, and she reaches down to guide him, push his fingers into her slick wet sex and show him how she likes to be fucked.

Rose clamps down on any cries that might try to escape as the Doctor picks up on her rhythms, fingers fucking her gently at first, then—at her grasp tightening on his wrist—more, harder, until sweat starts beading on Rose’s forehead and breasts and she can feel her climax tensing deep in her belly, coiling tighter with each delicious thrust. The Doctor is a fast learner. (Of course he is.) But she wants more.

“Off,” Rose says breathlessly, pushing at the Doctor’s waistband until he seems to get the hint, propping himself up on one elbow as he removes his hand from Rose’s boxers. But instead of immediately disrobing, he looks at his hand thoughtfully for a moment, and even in this dim light, Rose can see how slick his fingers are, nearly glistening from her. She has approximately half a second to feel embarrassed before the Doctor’s tongue darts out to taste his fingers. Rose just stares as he plunges his fingers into his mouth, tongue swirling around the tips, like he might do with a strange new specimen he just encountered, or perhaps one of his very favorite jams. He hums appreciatively and Rose only just manages to stifle a whimper as renewed heat floods between her legs.

The Doctor glances up at her, removing his fingers from his mouth with an obscene smack. “Rude?” he asks innocently.

“Very,” Rose says, pulling herself up by his shirt so she can kiss him again. He tastes like sex. Like sex and something sweet and something musky and animal, primal. He tastes incredible. Struck with indescribable need, Rose pulls at the Doctor’s clothes and this time he definitely gets the hint, sitting back just long enough to strip off his shirt and boxers before returning to help Rose wriggle out of her (his) shorts and Rose might knee him in the ribs a little but before she has a chance to apologize he’s covering her mouth with his, claiming any words that might tumble out. Settling between her thighs (and god, but that’s glorious, the feel of them sliding together, skin on skin at last), the Doctor urges her legs over his hips and around her waist. After teasing her for a moment with his hand, fingers sliding through slick heat to make sure she’s ready for him, absolutely sure—and she absolutely is, almost embarrassingly so, though she can feel herself tightening with anticipation—he pushes inside.

The fullness is almost overwhelming. Rose bites down on his shoulder to keep from crying out.

He draws in a sharp breath. “Is that—?”

“It’s good,” Rose stutters against his neck. “It’s good. You’re good.”

The Doctor leans back to look at her, concerned. He thinks he hurt her. Rose shakes her head—he didn’t hurt her—well he did, just a little bit—well, she’ll be a little sore later—but good sore—and she doesn’t mind, she was a little overeager herself, she just tensed up is all, excluding last night it’s been a little while since she’s done any of this, and this is all stuff that can be discussed later, and don’t you dare stop now, don’t you dare—and she pulls him down by the shoulders for a kiss.

“Don’t stop,” Rose pants into his mouth.

“Right,” he says, distracted, between kisses and bites. It’s a question, not a declaration; for her, not for him. He doesn’t move, doesn’t push further, though Rose can tell he’s aching to. His whole body is humming under her hands, sweating with the effort of holding back. But she’s adjusted to him now, enough that the stinging has given way to warmth and she really, really wants him to start moving. Her hips roll forward, pushing him in deeper, until Rose can feel the full length of him inside her. The Doctor groans at the back of his throat.

“Good?” Rose prompts, chest heaving.

“It’s—ah—good,” he grits out. His hips start moving, grinding against her with slow, long thrusts, his eyes clenching shut. Rose suspects this is the moment his respiratory bypass would be kicking in, in the other body. “Very good,” he gasps.

They fall into a rhythm, pushing and pulling and sliding together, fingernails digging into each other’s backs and hips and shoulders—they’re definitely going to find each other’s marks, later. But for now, Rose arches up and kisses the Doctor’s throat, mouth drawing a path up to his jaw, lips pressing against the space behind his ear until she can feel his heartbeat hammering there. She nips at the sensitive flesh and hears him bite back a curse; she grins so he can feel her teeth on his skin. The Doctor slides his hand back between them and his thrusts pick up in speed and urgency. Tension starts building up again, low in Rose’s abdomen, down where they’re joined, where he’s teasing them both. Little shocks of pleasure ripple through her, previews before the main event. 

It’s almost too much, the sensory overload—she very nearly wants to push him away, wants the maddening tension to stop, wants to shatter into a thousand glittering golden pieces. She bucks against him wildly, her toes curling at the feeling of him meeting her stroke-for-stroke, her breath leaving her in a staccato. Their exhales are punctuated by gasps and groans as they clutch at each other, Rose reaching up to drag her fingers through his hair again, her fingernails scraping against his scalp. She feels his responding hum deep in her own sternum and pulls him up for a kiss, mouth open, tongue sliding against his.

After a moment, the Doctor breaks off the kiss, his face twisted in concentration. “Oh,” he gasps out, his voice ragged and husky, words breaking in the air. “Oh, Rose. Oh, fuck.”

Now it really is too much. Rose lets out a shout and her eyes slam shut as she comes, shuddering, muscles clenching deliciously around the Doctor. She arches off the bed, scrambling at the Doctor’s back for purchase as he empties into her with a muffled groan. His thrusts slowing to a stop, the Doctor slumps over her, only to roll off onto his back immediately afterward, chest and stomach heaving as he gasps air back into his lungs.

It’s very quiet in the room, except for how they’re both panting like they just ran a marathon. Lightheadedness swells up in Rose’s skull, complementing the something that feels an awful lot like tenderness settling nicely behind her ribs.

She tries to shut that line of thought down before it can get too far. Because any minute, Rose thinks, he’ll spring up; time to go, time to move on to the next great adventure, time to pretend none of this ever happened. That’s how he would have reacted before, she knows (or she suspects, rather, as if he would have even let things progress so far, before), and there’s no reason to pretend he wouldn’t do exactly the same thing now, last night’s venture notwithstanding. That, Rose reasons somewhere in the pleasant post-sex haze that seems to have replaced her brain, was just a fluke. It’s much more like him to push her away, or to run. Which means it would be better for her, really, if she was the one who left first. So she’s going to. Before he does.

Any minute now.

A few long seconds tick by, and Rose can’t help but notice neither of them is moving away.

Huh. Imagine that.

Tentatively, eyes still fixed glasslike on the ceiling overhead, Rose extends her hand somewhere in the netherspace beside her, where she can hear the Doctor breathing, where she can feel the dip in the mattress that signifies his weight pressing down. She doesn’t have to reach far; her hand finds his almost instantly, or maybe his finds hers, their fingers twining together regardless of the sweat cooling on their skin. She offers a little squeeze, and the next exhale that leaves the Doctor sounds suspiciously like a sigh of relief.

A lazy smile quirks Rose’s lips. She doesn’t know why she’s so surprised. She did say he was the one who let her in, after all. It’s just nice, she supposes, to be right about something for once. (It’s very nice to be right about him.)

“I must say,” says the Doctor, still sounding just the littlest bit winded, “you make a very compelling argument in favor of this whole humanity business.”

“Damn right I do,” Rose mutters, and they both laugh.

 ***

 Grinning ear-to-ear, it’s all the Doctor can do to keep from running as he strides down corridor after corridor toward his bedroom, hands in pockets and a whole heaping helping of pep in his step.

“Can’t help but notice this isn’t the way to the console room,” pipes up Donna’s voice from the webcam speaker.

“Nope,” says the Doctor, popping the p at the end. “Got to make the rounds first, wake up all the non-comatose humans. And I wouldn’t mind a moment to freshen up in the bath as well. And yes, I will take off the glasses first,” he says before Donna has a chance to.

“You better.”

The Doctor rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry,” he laughs, reaching for the handle on the bedroom door. “I’ll make sure nothing has a chance to offend your delicate—”

The sound of laughter from inside the bedroom stills his hand. 

...human sensibilities, he thinks and forgets to say, but it doesn’t matter. The Doctor fully expected to open the door and see his room, painted dark by synthetic night and occupied by a bed and one (1) singular sleeping human—which, of course, is still a strange thing to see, this whole other version of his current self outside the confines of a mirror or any other reflective surface, but still: expected. What he did not expect, however, was not just one human in his room, but two. And after the events of last night, he certainly did not expect to hear either of them laughing. And apparently together.

To be fair, it isn’t the sound that sends his stomach plummeting so much as the implications accompanying it.

Probably he should turn and go, give them some privacy, but he’s too busy lingering and simultaneously chiding himself for lingering. He and Rose shared a bed plenty of times before—well, not always a bed, per se, sometimes more of a bedroll or a cot or a prison bunk or the occasional pile of prickly sneeze-inducing hay—so there’s no reason he should be standing and staring like this, no reason at all for him to be gaping at the door to his room like some kind of slack-jawed idiot. It doesn’t matter what they might or might not have got up to in there, besides sleeping. He’s a Time Lord, for goodness’ sake. He doesn’t—he can’t—care about any of this. He’s better than all this. He’s got to be.

“Wow,” pipes up Donna, cutting through the sluggish silence like a knife through jelly, and the Doctor jerks back from the door before the sharp sound of her voice has a chance to disturb anyone and make the situation even more awkward than it already is. “They didn’t waste any time at all, did they?”

The Doctor does not reply, preoccupied with collecting some thoughts and working overtime to push others away, racing to put as much distance between himself and his room as possible. This doesn’t change anything, he knows. He’s still got things to take care of. He still has research to do. He still has to help Donna. He still…

Jaw set, he grits his teeth against the unwelcome feelings trying to swell up uncomfortably in his throat. What’s wrong with him? Isn’t this what he planned for? Isn’t this what he designed?

(Isn’t this more or less what he knew would happen, when he pushed her away for the umpteenth time? When he told her she wasn’t welcome here, with him?)

“Doctor?” asks Donna’s voice, unusually quiet, now. “Are you all right?”

The Doctor shakes his head in an attempt to clear the nonsense away. “Of course I am,” he replies. “I’m always all right.”

 ***

 He knows he should feel guilty, on some level, allowing himself any measure of happiness while Donna’s in crisis and his other self is so busy tending to her. But the human Doctor is finding it increasingly difficult to dampen his grin whenever Rose so much as glances his way, and when she returns his smile, lashes fluttering and lips curving shyly upward as the two of them make their way to the console room, it takes every ounce of the Doctor’s considerable willpower to keep himself from pulling her into the universe’s tightest, happiest hug. If he were a cynical man (and goodness knows, at times, he has been), he’d chalk up all this giddiness to the postcoital hormones fizzing pleasantly in his veins. Just chemistry, pure and simple. But right now, he’s fairly certain the only chemistry involved here is how hopelessly drunk he is on her.

Of course, then they step into the console room, and the Doctor is forcibly reminded that, much like with actual alcohol, when humans forget to pace themselves, afterward they get to deal with fun little things like hangovers and other delightful consequences.

“There you two are!” pipes up his other self, darting about the control desk, flipping switches and pulling levers. “I was starting to think you’d sleep the whole day away, the both of you. Of course, Rose, you always did sleep like the dead, metaphorically speaking—you could put Donna’s coma to shame—but it’s surprising even to me how quickly your particular brand of circadian rhythms has spread to those around you. Suppose it only makes sense, given the matching human physiologies and all. Still, you two missed quite a lot while you were out, so you’ve got a bit of catching-up to do, the both of you.”

He sounds cheerful enough, bordering on oblivious, but this is a manner the human Doctor remembers all too well, recognizes with startling clarity once viewed from the outside—he’s just a little too nonchalant, just a little too casual, yet somehow manic at the same time as he makes a show of checking monitors and typing commands and pressing buttons, perhaps, just a little harder than he needs to, unable to look either of them in the eye as he does so.

He already knows. Somehow, he’s figured it all out. He knows everything. Of course he does.

Speaking of hangovers, the Doctor’s starting to feel just the littlest bit queasy.

“How’s Donna doing?” he calls out anyway, ignoring the sick feeling twisting in his stomach.

“Oh, right as rain,” Donna’s voice chirps out of the blue. “Thanks for asking!”

Rose and the Doctor both jump. “Donna?” asks Rose in disbelief, glancing around the console room as if Donna may manifest from thin air at any moment. “Donna, was that you? Where are you? What’s—”

“You rigged her up to a medical transceiver, didn’t you?” the Doctor realizes immediately. “And it worked?”

“Apparently,” says Donna. “‘Course I’m still stuck in the medbay, still put under and all that. But he’s got a camera or something sort of rigged up to his specs, so even though I’m asleep, I still can see and hear everything he does. Isn’t that genius?”

“Wow,” Rose breathes. “Are you all right, Donna? You’re not still in pain, or anything?”

“Can’t feel a thing. Could probably use an extra blanket, though, knowing how cold he keeps the place.”

Laughing, Rose shifts her focus to the other Doctor, shaking her head in wonder. “This is incredible,” she says earnestly. “God. You’re brilliant.”

“Thanks,” replies the other Doctor with a grin that’s just a little too tight. “Of course, it’s just the first step of a much longer process, it isn’t exactly a tenable long-term solution to keep Donna rigged up like this—”

“No brain-in-a-computer for me, ta.”

“—but it’s a good first step nonetheless.”

“What’s step two?” asks Rose.

“Step two for me is scanning the nearby systems to find the equipment needed to extricate the offending material safely from Donna’s brain,” replies the Time Lord Doctor, tilting his head distractedly at the monitor as he types in another command. “Step two for you lot, I suppose, is whatever you want.”

“Great,” says Rose. “We want to help you.”

“No need,” the Doctor insists. “I’ve got it all under control. And you know what they say about too many cooks in the kitchen. Speaking of, have you two eaten yet? The galley’s fairly well-stocked at the mo, lots of good proteins and complex carbohydrates at your disposal. I’m sure you two are famished after everything you’ve both got up to last evening. Humans tend to rack up quite the appetite, activities like that.”

The Doctor’s blood pressure drops like a stone. He glances at Rose to find her face carefully composed, her earlier excitement already fading like it was never there. 

“You talking about everything with the Daleks and the end of the world?” Rose asks coolly. “Or the sex?”

If she were physically present, the Doctor imagines Donna’s jaw would drop open at that, at the bold frankness of it. Now the blood comes rushing back into his cheeks til he thinks he might catch fire from it. Rubbish human body and its rubbish autonomic nervous responses.

His other self does not look away from the monitor in front of him. “I’m sure the latter is absolutely none of my business,” he says pleasantly.

“You’re right. It’s really not.”

“Yeah, it’s not really any of my business either,” Donna pipes in. “So could we maybe turn the transceiver off for this—”

“Fair enough,” interrupts the Time Lord Doctor, “but then that does beg the question of why you brought it up.”

“It was gonna come up sooner or later. I’d rather bring it all out into the open now. Or would you rather I made passive-aggressive jibes about you two and you lot and snide comments about late-night activities?”

“Honestly, it would be delightful if we didn’t comment on any of this at all.”

“Great,” Rose laughs weakly. “So just ignore it and it’ll go away, just like we always used to do?”

“That’s what you came back for, isn’t it? To get back to the way things used to be.”

“I came back for you!”

“All right,” says the human Doctor loudly, surprising himself and everyone else. “That’s enough!”

No one responds, the console room silent except for the glass column grinding quietly away over the hum of the TARDIS. The Doctor glances between Rose and his other self, pulse pounding sluggishly in his chest, the sick feeling in his stomach growing heavier with each passing moment. The other Doctor still won’t look at either of them.

“That’s enough,” he says again, quieter this time. “We can all have a good row about this later. Our priority right now is taking care of Donna. Everything else can wait. Right?” he adds to Rose, arching an eyebrow meaningfully.

Jaw set and gaze hard, eyes flashing, for a moment it seems like Rose is going to argue with him. But she quickly relents, tension easing from her shoulders. “Right,” she says quietly, nodding.

“Right?” the Doctor snaps at his original self.

The Time Lord Doctor doesn’t look at him, too busy staring at his monitor. “Right in theory,” he murmurs, slowly. “But in practice…”

“What?” asks the human Doctor impatiently. “What is it?”

His original self scans the readings on the monitor again and again, as if different information may yield itself on repeat viewings. Whatever he sees there makes the tight, forced grin melt right off his face. His brow furrows in alarm.

“Doctor?” asks Rose, concerned, now.

In lieu of responding, the original Doctor pushes away from the control desk, racing toward the TARDIS doors. With a great heave, he throws them open, to reveal—

Nothing.

No planet surface beams at them from outside the TARDIS. There is no sun, no stars, no vortex. No light, no dark. No warm, no cold. An empty, silent, colorless expanse extends as far as the eye can see.

“Oh, no,” murmurs Rose, clutching a hand to her stomach.

“What is that?” demands Donna’s voice. “Is something wrong with your glasses, Doctor? I can’t see.”

“That’s because there is, quite literally, nothing to see,” says the original Doctor quietly, shaking his head.

He turns to face Rose and the human Doctor, eyes wide with fear. “We never made it out to the other side,” he says. “We’re trapped in the Void.”

***

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter [forthcoming]]

***

P.S. I would like to give a big shout-out to the absolutely wonderful @tenroseforeverandever​​ @goingtothetardis​​ @hanluvr​​ @ladydiomede​ @wordmusician @gallifreygirl81 @OH @super_powerful_queen_slayyna and absolutely anyone who ever said something nice about this story or especially if you encouraged me to continue it. I’m sorry this chapter was three years in the making (!!!!) but it is heartily dedicated to y’all lovely lovely peaches! <3 <3 <3

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

DW Inbox Buddies daily prompts

I suppose you could say that I took @dwinboxbuddies daily prompts and ran with them - I wrote something for all but 3 days.  Each was an individual, unconnected story, but I’ve consolidated them here and formatted as they were meant to be.

Gifts for @starry-nightflyer

9/1 - Run

It was the most romantic kiss of Rose’s life.  Even with an audience of 200, the Doctor still poured all his love for her into it, and she responded in kind, despite the wolf whistles.  Pulling back, he searched for the perfect word to start their new life.  In the end, only one could do.  His right hand took her left, and her eyes sparkled as she understood.  “Run.”  He whispered, and they dashed from the altar, down the aisle, and out into the bright sunshine of the rest of their life.

9/2 – Stargazing

Lying on the mansion roof watching the stars twinkle above her, Rose wished for home.  It had been years, now, and her human mind was starting to forget; forget the exact shade of brown his eyes became in the privacy of their bedroom; forget the precise sound of the TARDIS landing.  As she did every night, she picked a star, closed her eyes, and made a wish.  Looking up at the stars, she bolted upright.  Did that star just go out?

9/4 – Holding Hands

The grief and devastation was so unbearable, it was difficult for Rose to feel anything other than the profound sense of loss.  It is not until later, after Norway, after ‘no touch’, after ‘Rose Tyler-‘, that she realizes what she misses most.  Having a hand – his hand – to hold.

9/5 – Sweet

Rose laughed, watching the Doctor and Tony compete for the bigger milkshake moustache.  Soon enough, Tony was declared the victor, and he ran off to claim his prize of time on the playset, leaving Rose to soothe the Doctor’s pout.  The sweet taste of his kiss had nothing to do with the remains of his banana milkshake.

9/6 – In the TARDIS

“It’s going to be all right, Rose,” the Doctor promised.  

“We’re quite literally strung up like a pig at a luau Doctor – how is it going to be okay?!”

“The sonic can cut through these ropes in about ten seconds.”

“Well, then, use it, would you?  We’re running out of time!”

“Uh…”  “Please don’t say it’s broken!”

“No, it’s fine – it’s in the pocket of my jacket.”

“And where is that?”

“Um, in the TARDIS?”

“Doctor!”

9/7 – Cooking a meal

A gentle nudge from the TARDIS woke Rose.  “What is it? What’s wrong?”  She asked the ship, who gave off a slightly alarmed hum followed by a muted imitation of a smoke alarm.  

Grabbing her dressing gown, Rose shuffled to the galley to find it filled with smoke and her husband coughing by the oven.  

He looked up to see her, arms crossed and frowning, and chuckled weakly.  “Happy birthday?”

9/8 – Break

“Doctor?”  

“Yes, Rose?”  

“So, I’ve been on board for a few weeks now.”  

“Yeah?”  

“Is there anything, I dunno, else?”  

“Else?  Rose Tyler, what more could you possibly want?!”  

“You’ve got a timeship.”

“Yeah.”  

“Unlimited credit anywhere but Earth.”  

“I do.”  

“Do you think – can we take a break?”  

“A break?  From what?  Why?”

“Because, Doctor, I want to go shopping on an alien planet.”

“Fine.  But we’re going to America’s Black Friday, year 4263. Worst ever.”

“Challenge accepted.”

9/9 – Ocean

They stand side by side, staring out at the ocean.  “The house is nice.”  Rose tells him.  “Torchwood’s not bad, not with Pete in charge.”  

“What are you saying?” He asks.  

“Just that it’s not a bad life.”  She looks up at him.  

He smiles down at her, offering “Better with two, though?”  

She laughs. “Yep.  Know why?”  

“Cause there’s you?”  

She takes his hand, reaffirming, “Forever.”  

“Stuck with you – that’s not so bad.”  He tells her, and she can’t resist; she kisses him.

9/10 – I can’t believe you’re back here

“I can’t believe you’re back here.”  Rose found her new husband hiding in the kitchen, downing handfuls of nibbles.  

“Needed a breather.” He shrugged.  

“Well, how about instead of the kitchen where we’ll be found, we take a very large slice of our wedding cake and go sit outside and stare at the stars?”  She suggested.  

“Brilliant, you are.” He told her seriously as she plated the cake.  

She got a good grip on the plate, and held out her hand.

“Run?”  

“Run!”  He agreed.  

They ran.

9/11 – Kiss

They kissed in all kinds of ways now, for every possible reason.  Hello.  See you later (never goodbye).  Good morning. Good night.  Light pecks, passionate snogs.  Rose’s favorite, she quickly discovered, were the ‘just because’ ones.  Especially when the Doctor initiated.  Nothing made the butterflies take off like when he would pull her close and give her a sweet kiss.  If she questioned it, he would simply shrug and say, “Because I can, Rose.  Because I can.”

9/12 – Angry

One of the side effects of being part Donna, he’d noticed, was being far quicker to anger when he was dismissed out of hand.  Centuries of being the smartest person in the room meant he used to ignore doubters; now, he had a tendency to start shouting.  Many times, especially in his first six months, Rose would have to pull him away before fisticuffs could start.  After every instance, he would grieve for his best friend, and all she lost because of the metacrisis.

9/13 – On an alien planet

One foot out of the TARDIS, Rose stopped to stare, transfixed.  “It’s beautiful,” she breathed.  

The Doctor smiled down at her.  “Glad you like it.”  

“An alien planet.  My first alien planet!”  She bounced on the balls of her feet.  “Thank you!”  

She threw her arms around him, and he reciprocated automatically, admitting, “Anything for you.”  

“So, where are we?”  

“S’called Woman Wept.”

“It looks like it’s all ice and snow.”  

“It is.”  

“Can we ice skate?”  

He smiled in response.

9/14 – Getting arrested

“I’m sorry.”  

Silence.  

“Rose, really, I am.”

Still no response.  

He keeps trying.  

“It’s not like this is the first time we’ve been arrested.  And, actually, this is one of the nicer jails.  I remember one time-” and off he goes, trying to talk the stony glare off her face.

“Doctor?”  

“Yes, love?”

“I don’t mind getting arrested for a good reason – breaking a law, as protest, what have you.”  

“But?”

“Never again get us arrested for stealing bananas.”  

“Yes, dear.”

9/15 – Again

He was regenerating again. Rose could barely bring herself to watch, hoping this new, new, new Doctor would still want her, still love her. Face half hidden in Jack’s coat, she waited to see who he would become.  Just as suddenly as it started, the golden regeneration energy stopped and she stared in awe that he was still the same.  Dizzy with relief, she threw herself into his arms, clutching him as tightly as he was her.  Finally, she was home.

9/16 – Moon

Sitting on the Tower wall with Amy, waiting for news on the cubes, the Doctor stared resolutely at the moon.  Every time he thought of the Ponds’ future his time senses went haywire, and there was a heavy ball of dread in his gut.  He knew this feeling far too well.  For Donna, when he realized she had Time Lord knowledge.  Martha, at the Master’s devastation.  At the Olympics, the grief for his pink-and-yellow love that time has not dulled.  Soon, he knows, the Ponds will join that list.

9/17 – You can trust me

Later, after the snow has melted and after two weeks in Egypt, Donna remembers that skinny, weird alien who begged for her trust.  He’d been so sad, in a fog, like her mum after dad passed.  Watching Sylvia put her life back together, Donna regrets saying no.  He needs someone to keep him going, to stop him going too far.  He needs a friend to boss him around.  Eventually, she decides it should be her, and resolves to find him through strange happenings.  Why are the bees disappearing?

9/18 – Hug

She doesn’t like it when he hugs her.  Never mind the paper cuts she gets (HOW is he so skinny??) it’s just not them – they banter and tease, they don’t do sentiment.  Hugs mean something’s wrong.  Hugs mean danger, and sadness, and weariness.  Pompeii.  The Library. Midnight (the planet, not the time). So when both versions hug her tight within ten minutes, her new, part Time Lord brain starts running calculations. He’s hugging her, and that means something’s wrong.

9/19 – Anxious/Nervous

He shifted nervously at the altar, a small part of him worried his bride would not show.  They loved each other, he knew, and wanted to be married, but at the eleventh hour, who knew what could happen?  Then the trumpets blared, and a vision in white made her way down the aisle, beaming at him.  He took her hand from the father she’d never (always) known, and they giggled together as the preacher began to speak.  “We are gathered here together to join Amelia and Rory in marriage-”

9/20 – Past or Future

He stands there so smug, offering her the choice of backwards or forwards in time.  It seems like a simple enough question, but it felt like so much more.  Backwards or forwards – past or future.  To her, it seems like her choice would be obvious.  She’d been choosing backwards – the past – for years now.  Moving home after Jimmy, getting back with Mickey. But this, now, being here to even get the offer – to her, that said it all.  Letting out a shaky breath, she says “Forwards.”

9/21 – First meeting

It was a perfectly boring Thursday afternoon, the kind he had railed against so frequently as a full Time Lord.  He’d known (hoped) this was coming in the three weeks they’d known, but now in the moment, he felt his heart stop, and then expand.  “Hello, little one.”  He whispered aloud to the fledgling mind brushing against his.  Rising from his desk to find Rose, he promised himself and this small, new life he and Rose had made that he would never curse Thursday afternoons again.

9/22 – Change

Objectively, he knows they’ve both changed in the years they’ve been apart.  She’s obviously flourished here, building the dimension cannon and saving Donna from that artificial parallel universe.  He’s changed as well, shaped by his time with Martha, then Donna, never mind the Master’s torture.  And yet, as they lie wrapped in each other’s arms in Rose’s bed at the mansion on his first night there, he thinks that the most important things haven’t changed.  They still fit in each other’s arms.

9/23 – Smile

After meeting Rose, he thought he’d never see a more wonderful smile.  Now, smiling down at Sarah Jacqueline’s beaming face, he knows he was wrong.  

“You do realize it’s probably just gas, right?”  An exhausted Rose reminds her husband.  

He shrugs, never looking away from his new daughter.  “I don’t really care.  I’ve seen incredible things in my life – stars being born, stars dying, all of time itself.  But this, her – it’s a thousand times better than all of it.”

9/24 – For once, I was wrong

“Okay, okay!”  The Doctor grumbled, as a triumphant Rose smirked. “Fine.  I admit – for once, I was wrong, and you were right.”  

“Haha!”  Rose crowed, pumping her fist in the air.  “See?  S’like Mum always said – sometimes less is more.”  

The Doctor gave her his best glare, though he was easily distracted by the whipped cream on her nose. “I suppose.  But, I hope you know you’re the only one I would share a banana split with, Rose Tyler.”  

“Better with two.” She told him happily.

9/25 – Cuddle

It was petty.  She knew it, but she couldn’t help the thought. In the ways that really mattered, this tall skinny bloke was the same man as her Doctor.  Protecting her, defending the Earth, that smile when he saw her – it was all there.  She still felt guilty though, especially sitting across from her boyfriend, wondering, hoping, that their cuddles would still be the same.  Although, she thought, feeling his hand on her knee, there seemed to be a possibility they would be even better.

9/26 – Happy

It hits her out of the blue one day – she’s happy.  Stopping dead in an alien marketplace, she considers her situation.  In truth, it’s as terrifying as she originally feared. But, she’s found, it’s also amazing. She’s seen some truly awful things, but that gives her a chance to save the day.  To matter.  Because the weird, skinny alien showed her she did.  Speaking of – “Don-na!”  He reappeared in front of her.  “Allons-y!” He’s off again, and she follows. It’s nice to be needed.

9/28 – Pillow Fight

“Oi!”  Jackie barged into the room, eyes squeezed tightly shut. “Do you mind?  Tony can hear you!”  

“Sorry, Jackie.”  The Doctor said sheepishly, before asking, “Uh, why are your eyes closed?”  

Rose laughed, and Jackie carefully opened them to find the couple kneeling on their bed in pajamas, still holding pillows, feathers littered around them.  

“Are you having a pillow fight?”  She asked, incredulous.  

The Doctor blinked. “Of course we are.  What did you think we were doing?”

9/29 – Mine

Objectively, she knows she’s far from the first.  She’s met Martha and Sarah Jane, and knows all about Rose.  But, she can’t help but think, for right now, while she’s on board? The ship, the universe, and yes even the weird alien pilot, are hers.  Only hers.  She knows it won’t last forever, especially if Rose ever returns, but here and now (wherever and whenever that is) it all belongs to her.  Maybe this life isn’t so bad after all.

[tenscupcake]

beefing up for beginners

ten/rose. teen. ~8.7k (how???) summary: rose and the doctor have been reunited across dimensions, but their relationship is lagging. the doctor finds something of rose's that makes him fear it's because he isn't muscular enough for her. insecurity, folly, and (of course) ample miscommunication ensue. warnings for: silliness. thank you VERy much to @aroseofstone for the last minute beta :) ao3

When the Doctor and Rose were reunited a few months ago – when she beat the infinitely stacked odds and fought her way back to him across universes – he had a different concept of what their relationship would be like.

He thought it was implicit that they were a little more than friends now. She had told him she loved him just before they were separated. The metacrisis event had given her quasi-immortality like he has; in one impossible accident all his concerns about mismatched lifespans had vanished. He had kissed her, when the dust had settled after the multiverse was safe and the Earth was returned to its rightful coordinates in the universe. They’d had an audience, too, for that kiss: everyone on board the TARDIS had ‘ooh’ed and cheered like schoolchildren. If it was obvious to all them, he thought it would be obvious to Rose, too.

But ever since then, he’s been perplexed by how slow their relationship is progressing. In fact, he’s convinced it isn’t progressing at all.

He had kissed her again, after they’d saved a planet from a plague. And once more before she’d gone to sleep the other night. All three times, he had never been forceful; each kiss was quick, gentle, and innocent. And Rose hadn’t complained about any of them, or pulled away or looked disgusted.

But she still hasn’t initiated a kiss. Or anything else romantic, for that matter. And sometimes, when she thinks he isn’t looking, there’s a certain way she looks at him. Like she’s disappointed in him. But he can’t for the life of him think of anything he’s done that may have disappointed her. For a while, he thought maybe she was just disappointed that he wasn’t quite how she remembered, and she had lost interest. But she wouldn’t have stayed here on the TARDIS if she didn’t love him anymore, would she?

At least, that was the conclusion he had come to.

And soon after, it occurred to him that it was possible he wasn’t being romantic enough.

So today, he had decided to take preemptive action on his latest theory.

It’s rare that they take a trip just to spend time alone; usually he purposely lands them in the midst of cities, surrounded by shops and bustling crowds of aliens everywhere they go. It’s more fun that way, he’s always thought. But this time, he took them somewhere remote where they couldn’t be interrupted. Determined to make her see it was intended to be a date, he spent the whole day laying it on thick. He set them up a picnic in a meadow of her favorite flowers. With a basket full of food that he prepared himself while she was sleeping the night before. He wiped pesto sauce off her lip with his thumb. He took her to her favorite ice cream shop in the universe after that, on their least busy day of the year. He had licked from her ice cream cone. But she had made nothing of it, and kept on eating it like nothing happened.

In fact, she acted like all of these gestures were innately platonic. He may as well have spent the day calling her ‘mate’ and thumping her on the back and inviting her out for a boys’ night at the pub, with how she reacted to all of it. It’s like she was totally oblivious that he was trying to tell her something. She didn’t appear to interpret anything he did all day as romantic at all. He even panicked, at one point, that she wasn’t getting his message and decided to be more direct. He’d gone in for a kiss, intending to make it a longer one this time, but she turned away just before he could touch her lips, calling his attention to a falling star in the sky that he didn’t even see. She avoided kissing him. He thought she may have even been lying about seeing a falling star at all.

Yes, the Doctor is perplexed. And more than a little worried that she doesn’t love him anymore, after all, and simply hasn’t yet figured out how to let him down easy.

She had gone to bed with only the briefest of hugs and a quick ‘see you tomorrow mornin’!’ said with an amicable smile, and had been on her way.

He slumps down on the couch in the media room, crossing his arms over his chest with a huff. He pouts at the black screen opposite him, glaring at it like it’s somehow the one at fault. What is it Rose wants him to do? What more can he do to win back her affection? It seems like he’s tried everything. Slouching even more, he glances over to the shelves of videos. Maybe he should just put something on. Poking fun at some trashy sci-fi always lifts his spirits.

Reluctantly, he rolls listlessly off the couch to browse the appropriate shelf. He makes sure to select something extra stupid. Making nasty comments about it may be an outlet for some of this frustration. At least this way he won’t take it out on Rose or anyone else.

But when he goes to put the disc in, there’s an unfamiliar case sitting on top of the player.

Magic Mike.

Huh.

Definitely not one from his collection.

Despite the misleading title, it doesn’t appear to be about magic. Five shirtless men are plastered on the cover, matching blue ties hanging superfluously around their necks. He recognizes a couple of the blokes; but can’t quite place which films he’s seen them in. They’re in a V formation on a stage with several spotlights, almost as though they’re putting on a show.

“Fun, hot, and sexy!” a bolded blurb of a journalist’s review reads at the bottom. If he didn’t know better, he’d think it was a film about male strippers.

Lifting up one corner cautiously, as though the case itself is dirty somehow, he picks it up and turns it over to see if there’s a synopsis on the back.

Several more photos of scantily clad men in raunchy poses assault his eyes before he’s able to zero in on the block of white text in the middle.

Channing Tatum is electrifying as Magic Mike, an entrepreneur with many talents and loads of charm. Mike spends his days pursuing the American dream, from roofing houses to designing furniture. But at night… he’s just magic. The hot headliner in an all-male revue, Magic Mike has been rocking the stage at Club Xquisite for years, with his original style and over-the-top dance moves. Just as another summer heats up, an intriguing new woman enters his life, causing Mike to think twice about his future as a dancer.

Oh.

This is worse than he thought.

He at least places one of the actors (even if it is from a photo of him in nothing but a cowboy vest and hat): Matthew McConaghuey.

Interstellar, that’s the film he knows him from. A creative, if grossly inaccurate, take on higher dimensions. Still, a film ahead of its time, if only in ambition.

Just to ensure it wasn’t a mistake that this case ended up atop the player, he pops it open. But alas, it’s empty. Frowning, he presses the eject button on the player, and much to his dismay, the machine spits a disc out of the slot, decorated with yet another image of the indecently dressed men on a stage.

Rose was in here the other night. She had said she was going to watch some telly while he was out shopping for parts. He invited her to come with – it was his favorite intergalactic market – but she insisted she was always bored while he was shopping for TARDIS parts, and that she needed a bit of rest, anyway.

There’s no one else on the ship. No one else has been on the ship in the time between Rose’s visit to this room and this moment.

Rose was watching this.

He puts the disc back in the case, and grimaces down at it again.

These blokes are objectively masculine. Broad shoulders and defined abdominal muscles and square jaws. Masculinity is attractive to women, isn’t it? He always assumed so. Rose clearly likes this stuff.

He drops the case back onto the player as a realization hits him.

Is this why she hasn’t made a move? Does she not find him attractive?

She won’t let him kiss her, but she’ll spend her free time secretly watching sexy films starring half-naked men?

Maybe her time in the other universe gave her different tastes. Or maybe she’s never liked skinny blokes. She did supposedly love him, at one point, but maybe it was just his personality she fell for, and the thought of doing anything physical repulses her? It would explain a lot.

He realizes he is making a lot of assumptions. And it’s no secret he is mostly clueless when it comes to relationships, or knowing what turns women on. Or even what they like. But he can’t possibly ask Rose herself about this. Chances are, she would only confirm his suspicion that she wishes he were more fit, and he doesn’t know if he could handle such an actualization of his fears. He wishes there were someone else he could get advice from. Whenever he makes decisions that involve Rose by himself, they always seem to be the wrong ones. Especially these days.

Although… he does know a bloke with lots of experience seducing women. (And men, but, that’s much less relevant.)

Rose is fast asleep, and chances are she’ll never find out if he takes a little detour in the middle of the night to visit an old friend…

It seems like his best option at the moment.

Without another moment’s hesitation, he stuffs the offending title into his jacket and skips out of the media room to head back to the console room.

---

“Doctor!” Ianto announces with glee as he catches sight of him walking through the door.

Unsurprisingly, the man is dressed smartly: a black pinstriped suit with a pink shirt and tie.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, walking around the desk to greet him properly.

“Hello, Ianto Jones! Good to see you.” He gives Ianto most charming smile and delays answering his question, hoping it’ll make up for the fact that he’s not here to see him. They’d never met in person, only through video chat, and it is nice to finally see him in the flesh. Ianto takes one of his hands in both of his, shaking it with a nervous chuckle.

“Nice suit by the way,” the Doctor adds, nodding down to his wardrobe, then to his own. “Pinstripes. Very fashionable.”

“I agree, sir.” Ianto nods, beaming at him.

“I came to see Jack, though, actually, is he here?”

“He actually stepped out to pick up some food, but he should be back any…”

“Doctor!” Jack’s voice booms from behind him. He wheels around just in time to see him dropping a few boxes of pizza and a case of beer onto a nearby table before he strides over to him.

“Hey…” the Doctor tries to take a step back to avoid what he knows is coming, but it happens anyway. Jack throws his arms around him and envelops him in a hug, lifting him clear off the ground for a moment.

“Never expected to see you again so soon!” Jack slaps him on the back a few times as he releases him. “Where’s Rose?” he asks, glancing around expectantly.

“It’s only me,” the Doctor says. “She’s asleep.”

Jack unexpectedly chortles, punching him playfully in the shoulder this time. “Course she is. Wore her out, didn’t ya, tiger?”

“Oh my,” the Doctor mutters under his breath, embarrassment bubbling up in his gut. He always seems to forget just how shamelessly inappropriate this man is, but it’s never long before he’s reminded again.

“Right,” the Doctor says, addressing Jack at a normal volume this time. “Yes. Listen, do you think we could talk… in private, for a tick?”

“Is something up?” Jack suddenly sobers up.

“No, just… wanted to chat.” He overstates his casual tone a little bit on the word ‘chat,’ and Jack cocks his head to the side, skeptical. Still, he doesn’t question it.

“Sure.” Jack nods. “Come and get it, guys,” he calls loudly to what he guesses are out-of-sight Torchwood employees waiting on the pizza. “We’re celebrating,” he adds quietly to the Doctor. “Finished up a long case today. Real nasty one.” Jack takes a paper plate from a stack and puts five slices of a veggie and meat conglomeration onto it for himself, then turns to the Doctor. “Want any?”

“No, ta,” he sighs, already getting impatient.

“Suit yourself.” Jack shrugs one shoulder.

He tears off a beer from the pack and nods him in the direction of the nearest hallway, just as employees start to pour in.

They’re caught up for several more minutes as the Doctor says hello to those he has met before, and Jack introduces him to the ones he hasn’t. And several more minutes as each of them insists on personally thanking the Doctor for all his service to the planet, and he thanks them awkwardly while insisting that it’s no trouble and he’s really nothing special.

They finally sit down in a spacious office with the door closed, and Jack sits down with his feet up on the oversized desk, tearing into his first slice of pizza.

“So, what’s up?” he says with his mouth full of cheese.

“Well it’s… it’s about Rose.”

Jack narrows his eyes and stares at him like he’s being pranked. It’s a few moments before he swallows his bite of pizza.

“Don’t tell me you came for sex tips?”

“No!” the Doctor shouts, looking around as though to ensure no one else heard his remark, though there’s no one else in the room. “Of course not. Not ever.” He shakes his head at the man’s audacity. “But… I do need advice.”

“Well, what is it?” He pops the cap off his bottle with a hiss and takes a sip.

“Rose and I haven’t actually, erm… what I mean is she hasn’t… we aren’t…”

“You haven’t shagged yet?”

He sighs and grumbles, scandalized yet again by Jack’s brazenness, but affirms his suspicion anyway.

“No.” He shakes his head, disappointed to confess it out loud.

“How come?”

“That’s just it. I don’t know. I thought it was something she wanted, so I’ve been trying to show her I’m ready for… that. I’ve kissed her. I’ve tried a few other… things.”

“What sort of things?” He looks mildly intrigued, like he’s imagining dirty things in his head.

“Romantic things,” he grits out. He feels excessively stupid saying it out loud.

“Oh,” Jack says, surprised. “Damn. I’d pay money to see that. What’d you do?”

He explains their date yesterday, and Rose’s reaction to it.

“Hmm.” Jack pulls a confused face, seeming as puzzled by it as the Doctor is. It’s not very reassuring.

“You think she’s just not interested?” asks the Doctor.

“That wouldn’t make much sense.”

“No?”

“No,” Jack scoffs. “Rose is crazy about you.”

“Is she?” He tugs on his ear.

Jack puts his feet back down on the floor, and looks at him like he’s a complete nutter.

“What makes you think she isn’t?”

“Well…” the Doctor breaks eye contact in favor of staring down at Jack’s desk. It’s a nice cherry wood.

“Well, what?”

The Doctor reluctantly pulls the Blu-ray disc out of his jacket and sets it on the desk next to Jack’s plate of pizza.

“She was watching this.”

Jack glances down at the title, then looks up at him with an impish grin.

“An excellent choice.”

“You’ve seen it?”

“Of –”

“What am I saying, of course you’ve seen it…” the Doctor mutters. “But why would Rose want to watch something like this, but not want to… you know?”

“I wouldn’t read too much into it. She probably just watched it for fun. Believe it or not, sometimes humans think looking at other attractive humans is fun.” He leans back in his chair again, taking another sip of his drink.

The Doctor frowns, even more perplexed. “But she could just look at me, if she wanted. But she isn’t.”

“Well…” Jack’s voice climbs up an octave as he draws out the word, like he’s hesitating to tell him something.

“What? Am I not attractive enough, is that it?”

Jack sets his bottle on the desk and pushes his plate to the side a little. He leans over on his elbows, giving him his devout attention.

“I won’t lie to you. You don’t look like these guys.” He nods down to the film. “But I really… really don’t think it’s that.”

“But these blokes are all muscular and toned. And I’m… not.”

“You think she cares about that?”

“I don’t know,” he confesses. “Do you think she would?”

“I mean, you are a bit shrimpy this time around,” he says, sizing him up a bit. “But I’d still absolutely hit that.”

“Ugh,” the Doctor pulls a face. “Not what I asked.”

“I’m just saying.” Jack puts his hands in the air in a gesture of innocence. “I don’t think that’s what it is.”

“’Shrimpy,’ though,” the Doctor steers the conversation back to safer territory. He was unfamiliar with the term. “What’s that mean?”

“You’re thin, that’s all.”

“Right,” he sighs. “Something Donna never missed an opportunity to remind me of.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Jack says.

Says the bloke whose suspenders can barely contain his pectorals.

“You’re one to talk,” the Doctor gestures to his much wider frame.

Jack wags an eyebrow, chuffed. “Thanks.” He tucks into his pizza again.

“I guess your last incarnation was a bit more… filled out,” Jack says after a few moments of chewing. “And Rose did meet that one first. It couldn’t hurt to bulk up a little, if you want to, but…”

The Doctor doesn’t hear the rest of Jack’s sentence. He’s suddenly struck with a dreadful epiphany. His last incarnation was substantially more brawny. It was a characteristic he needed at the time, as he was born in the middle of a grisly war. It’s certainly possible that since Rose had fallen for that version, she has been disappointed in his lanky frame ever since he regenerated. She was rather heartbroken for a while after he changed. Given the current evidence, it seems likely that Rose likes her men big and strong. If he can, as Jack put it, ‘bulk up a bit,’ maybe then Rose will be ready to take the next step.

“Okay?” Jack asks for a response to a statement or question he hadn’t heard.

The Doctor nods slowly.

“Right then.” The Doctor leaps to his feet, scooping up the film and stuffing it back in his jacket. “Thanks for the help.” He gives Jack a two-finger salute and turns on his heels to walk away.

“Can’t you stay for a little bit? You just got here.”

The Doctor turns around to see Jack’s arms outstretched, his hands upturned in confused accusation.

“No time to waste.”

“All right.” He looks disappointed, but concedes. “Come on, I’ll walk you out,” he says, standing up.

“Don’t be strangers, okay?” Jack says as they make their way back to the building entrance. “Come back soon. And bring Rose. I want to see how this works out.”

“We’ll try to stop by for a proper trip soon.” It’s not exactly a lie, but he is stretching the truth a bit. The Doctor respects Jack for everything he’s done, and he wishes there was something he could do to help him. His particular brand of immortality is a curse he wouldn’t wish on anyone. But, though Rose loves his company, the Doctor doesn’t relish it. He was only here for ten minutes and Jack said more inappropriate things than he can count.

Jack looks like he doesn’t quite believe him, but he doesn’t argue further.

He gives him one final, crushing hug at the door.

“Take care of yourself.”

---

As soon as the Doctor pilots the TARDIS back into the vortex, he runs straight back to his room, passing by his bed to duck straight into the en suite. After a few minutes fumbling with the knot in his tie, and a few more spent unfastening numerous buttons, he finally pulls the tie out from his collar and wrestles off his jacket and shirt and throws it all the floor. Damn form fitting suit. He pulls off the last layer over his head – a simple white t-shirt – and adds it to the pile.

The Doctor doesn’t spend much time contemplating his reflection. Well, not his nude one. He does have to spend a fair amount of time at the mirror to style his hair each morning. He did take a good long look at himself the first day he regenerated, as he always does, to take stock of what had changed and how much. He hadn’t considered, at the time, that he might be distastefully thin.

But now, the reflection staring back at him is just that. His shoulders aren’t broad, his chest muscles don’t bulge out. There are no lines on his stomach defining his abdominal muscles. He tightens his abs as hard as he can, and a few lines appear, but only two muscles really show near his ribs. Where are the rest? It’s not like he has much fat to speak of that’s covering them up. He sighs, relaxing again.

After a moment, he tries to flex his chest muscles, holding his arms out in front of him, bent at the elbow like he’s seen blokes in fitness catalogues do. A few extra sinews poke out of his neck, and it does make his chest look firmer, but it also somehow gets even more flat. Stretched out, rather than puffed out.

In a final effort, he pulls his arms up and slightly back behind him, elbows bent, fists pointed toward the ceiling. Another move he’s seen in magazines and films. His deltoids bulge up a little, but there is no definition to either bicep. Overall, he looks like all connective tissue, no muscle. Not appealing in any way.

Dropping his arms to his sides in defeat, he steps a little closer to the mirror. He was always happy with this face. It’s a face Rose seems to like. And there’s no denying he got lucky with this hair. He runs a hand through it, still impressed by how well it holds up even after a full day of activity. Rose seems to like touching it, too. But now he’s seeing his hair and his face as just two pieces of a much larger puzzle. And it seems like all the other pieces are not to Rose’s liking. For a brief second he falls victim to panic and insanity, considering what his chances are of becoming more muscular if he regenerates right now.

But there is a less morbid way of doing it, even if it is more work.

Despite his physique, he’s not actually scrawny. Gallifreyans pack more power per unit volume than humans do. He’s probably as strong as a bloke 50% thicker than he is.

But looks seem to matter more than he thought.

Jack said he could stand to bulk up a bit, and Gallifreyans do tend to respond very well to physical training.

Putting on some muscle – how hard could it be?

Tired of looking at himself, he puts his clothes back on before he heads back to the media room.

The Doctor has a large film collection, but he knows for a fact he doesn’t have a hard copy of what he’s looking for. He’s going to have to retrieve something from the TARDIS’ database. But to his surprise, when he asks her for assistance, the TARDIS seems reluctant to help him. In fact, she seems to think it’s a silly request.

“But it’s what Rose wants!” he insists. The TARDIS still seems unconvinced, but eventually gives up and uploads something to the player for him, though not without an exaggerated mental equivalent of a sigh.

Affronted by her lack of faith in him, he flops down onto the couch and mashes down on the power button for the telly, more frustrated than ever. Intent on ignoring his ship for the rest of the night, he glues his eyes to the screen, ready to absorb all the knowledge he can. He lets out a long-held breath as the title fades onto the screen.

Beefing up for Beginners

---

Rose knew, when she found her way back to him, that she may not be coming back to a romantic relationship. Had assumed not, actually.

She had made a deal with herself, before the final jump, that if he didn’t explicitly return the affections she’d so vulnerably confessed on that beach, she would never bring it up again.

The first couple weeks, the Doctor had made a few honest attempts at romance: kisses, some trips that resembled dates. But she knew he wasn’t really into it: he never seemed quite comfortable, or at all interested in escalating it any further. He just wasn’t himself. And she was certainly not going to make a move herself, to force him to do anything he didn’t really want to do.

Rose figured the Doctor simply felt bad for everything that had happened. There was no hiding that she was in love with him anymore, and she had risked her life clawing her way across dimensions for him, and got saddled with this immortality thing. Whether out of guilt, gratitude, or a sense of penance, he was just trying to give her what he thought she wanted. Because the truth is, if he truly returned her feelings, he would have said so by now.

And that’s fine. Her coming back wasn’t contingent upon that. Love isn’t so selfish.

His attempts had tapered off, and she was a bit relieved that he wasn’t killing himself trying to appease her anymore.

But the problem is, even with the unrequited love snafu behind them, the Doctor is still not himself.

He’s been acting, well… downright odd.

There was that morning a couple weeks back, when she walked into the kitchen to find the Doctor sitting at the table with a plate full of about a dozen scrambled eggs, actively wolfing them down with slice of toast from a tall stack on a second, smaller plate. The fact that he chose eggs was odd in itself, because he usually opts for pancakes or biscuits with jam or something else sweet. But she had also never seen him eat so much, or so fast. And what he had to say for himself was the weirdest part of all.

“Hungry?” she asked, jokingly, hoping he would offer an explanation in response.

“I need proper fuel in the mornings. Protein,” he added, shoveling in another bite.

“But you never eat eggs in the morning,” she countered.

“I just… usually eat them before you wake up, that’s all.” A few flecks of egg flew out of his mouth as he spoke, and she cringed a little.

“Oh… kay.” She turned around, and headed to the pantry to get a box of cereal. She made herself a quick batch of tea and poured milk into her cereal, and sat at the far end of the table to avoid another spray, but otherwise let the subject drop. Maybe he was just really hungry that morning.

But then there was the other afternoon, when he had abruptly left her in the library while they were working on a puzzle, claiming he had some quick maintenance work to do on the console. He had insisted that she keep on working, because he would be right back. But when an hour passed with no sign of him, she had gone looking for him in the console, and he wasn’t there.

She roamed the halls for a few minutes, hoping the TARDIS would guide her to the right place, and he burst out of a closed door just as she passed by, almost slamming into her as he raced out of it.

They both gasped out each other’s names at the same time as they narrowly avoided a collision.

“What are you doing back here?” he asked.

“What are you doin’ back here?” she countered.

He wasn’t dressed like he was doing maintenance. In fact, he was wearing clothes she’d never seen him wear before: a pair of track pants and a baggy t-shirt. His face was pink, there was a little sheen of sweat on his forehead, and his breathing was a bit labored. Almost like he was just on a run, not tinkering around.

“Maintenance, yeah, just… This is a, uhm, maintenance room. Yep.” He nodded, closing the door to that room behind him. But he was talking too fast and stuttering too much for her to believe him.

“Why are you wearin’... that?” she gestures down to his unusual wardrobe.

“Didn’t want to get grease on my suit.” He shrugs, like that should’ve been obvious, even though she’s never seen him wear anything but his suit to do even the messiest of tasks before. “Anyway, gonna go change and freshen up, meet you back in the library in a tick, hmm?”

Before she could even answer, he had brushed past her and ran down the hall towards his room.

She had, of course, tried to open the mysterious door he left behind, but it was locked.

And again, she hadn’t brought it up with him. The Doctor was just odd sometimes, and she didn’t want to start an argument over something stupid. Not after everything they’d been through.

Oh, but then there was that time he had insistently called her into his room, something he rarely does anyway, and when she walked through the open door, the first thing she saw were his pinstriped trousers sticking out from under his bed. He was lying on the floor, the top half of his body underneath his bed, lifting up the southern two bed posts clean off the floor while he inspected something underneath the wooden frame.

When she informed him she had arrived, he only to ask her to hand him his sonic screwdriver.

Rose knew the Doctor was strong – he’d picked her up without much effort a few times now, and never struggled with even heavy duty TARDIS repairs that required large parts or machinery. So it wasn’t that she wasn’t worried he’d drop it and hurt himself. She was, however, a bit worried he’d gone barmy. There seemed to be plenty of room under the bed to be able to see everything adequately without lifting it up. And on top of that, she knew for a fact he always kept the sonic in his jacket, and he was wearing his jacket. The situation was so excessively unusual, for a second, she almost thought she’d fallen asleep somewhere and was dreaming.

Spotting the screwdriver on the floor by his armoire, she snapped out of her trance and picked it up, rolling it underneath the bed where he could reach it.

“Can you grab it while you’re holdin’ this up like that?” she got on her knees and looked under the bed to get a look at his face. He did look somewhat normal, despite his position.

“Oh, yeah, just watch me.”

He proceeded to shift the entire weight of the frame beneath one hand, and pick up the screwdriver with the other. It whirred to life with a burst of blue light.

“What are you even trying to fix?” she asked.

“Oh, there’s a loose screw down here. I can hear it rattling around when I move too much.”

“Huh,” she had replied, mostly just to herself.

It had only taken about five seconds for him to finish his task, and set the bed down, wriggled out from under it, and skipped out of the room before she could stand up. He called after her, saying it was time to get going for the day, but she lagged behind, crawling towards the bed and slipping underneath it to examine the supposed screw he’d fixed.

But there were no visible screws or nail heads to be found. The way it was assembled, they all must be on different sides of the structure.

Very, very odd.

But so odd, she thought, that it wasn’t something she could bring up with him over dinner, either.

Hey, I snuck under your bed and didn’t see any screw. Why’d you fake fixing your bed, huh???

That’d only invite disaster.

So she carried on in confusion for a little while longer.

Tonight, though, as she walks into the library at the precise time she and the Doctor were supposed to meet up after they’d washed up for the night – she finds him in yet another strange situation. He’s sitting on his favorite cushion on the couch, completely shirtless. His trousers are still on, but all her attention goes straight to his bare chest. There’s a book in his lap, but when he looks over and sees her, he throws it to the side.

“There you are!” he says, leaping to his feet with a smile. He just stands there, though, stretching his arms over his head and then out to the side, one at a time, and then rolls his shoulders.

She almost never sees him stretch. Actually, she’d once asked him, and he had absently explained that his muscles didn’t get stiff as easily as humans’ did.

“What are you doin’?” she asks, amazed that the words come out clearly.

“Reading.” He making another show of pulling his arms back and stretching them out behind him, making every fiber of muscle in his torso protrude a little. Come to think of it, he does look a little more toned than the last time she’d seen him shirtless, though that was a long time ago. But the behavior is so out of the ordinary that Rose can’t appreciate the view.

“Okay… right. And what happened to your shirt?”

“Got a little warm in here, that’s all.” He shrugs, like it’s completely ordinary for him to shred his clothes.

“You got warm, an’ took your shirt off,” she sums up his explanation slowly, dumbfounded.

“Yeah,” he says simply.

“You sick or somethin’?” she asks.

“What do you mean?” he asks, screwing up his face like he has no idea what she’s talking about. He crosses his arms over his chest, and she swears he’s flexing every muscle he’s got.

“You’re actin’ silly,” she lets out a breathy little chuckle.

The Doctor’s arms drop to his sides, and he looks affronted.

“And the last time you were actin’ like this it was because you had that nasty viral Gallifreyan fever,” she continues.

 “I… what?” He enunciates the ‘t’ like he only does when he’s properly upset. Or confused. Or both. “Silly?” he repeats, forlorn. She doesn’t know if she’s ever seen him look so crestfallen.

“Doctor, what is up with you?” she asks, equally confused as he is now.

“It’s not silly, it’s… oh, never mind…” he waves his hand angrily before he strides quickly past her and out of the library.

Rose chases after him, but he’s too fast.

She figures he’s gone to his room, but when she finally makes her way there and tries to open his door, it’s locked.

The Doctor has always done some weird things from time to time. But these past couple weeks, she’s been well and truly bewildered by his behavior. There’s no rational explanation for it. Did he get dosed with something? Is he sick? The shortness of breath – respiratory infection? Change in dietary habits – maybe a stomach thing? The mental lapse with the invisible bed screw – maybe a fever making him loopy? He took off most of his usual layers like he had a fever. Maybe that is what it is, but the Doctor doesn’t want to admit it. He had embarrassed himself quite a bit, the last time he had one.

Even if it’s not the fever, something is seriously going on with him, and she has to figure out what it is. But with him so unwilling to talk to her about whatever it is, she knows she’s going to need some help.

The TARDIS comes to mind first, but when Rose beseeches her for assistance getting through to him, the TARDIS politely declines. She respects the Doctor’s privacy too much, it seems, to let Rose into a room where she isn’t wanted.

Suddenly she checks the date on her phone (synced up with her Earth timeline). It’s the seventeenth of the month – the night before they’re scheduled to swing by London and pick up Donna. What if Rose just went and got her a bit early? She might know what’s going on. Or at least be able to offer a fresh perspective. And even if she can’t help Rose figure it out, she may at least be able to knock some sense into him and get him to talk. She has a no-nonsense approach to conversation with him.

Even if they don’t make progress on the mystery with the Doctor, it would at least be nice to have someone to talk to about everything.

Rose heads to the console room to check their location. To her surprise, they’re not floating in the Vortex like they usually do during the evenings. They’re in London. Had the Doctor landed them back on Earth earlier – or did the TARDIS do it just now, sensing Rose’s plan before it had even fully formed? It wouldn’t be the first time the TARDIS had done something for Rose before she realized she needed it.

Rose sends a few waves of gratitude to the ship, just in case it was her, then pulls out her phone and selects Donna’s number from her Favorites list.

As the line rings, Rose crosses her fingers that she can pop over right away.

---

The Doctor frowns at himself in the bathroom mirror.

Even with hours to recover from what happened, he’s still mortified. Not only did Rose not notice the 2.5 centimeters of muscle mass he’d put on in the last three weeks, or seem remotely interested in looking at him shirtless, but she actually said he looked silly.

Silly.

He had been proud of his progress, until tonight.

It’s not as easy for Gallifreyans to gain body mass as it is for humans, he’s discovered. He’s more inclined to simply pack additional power and energy into the same space, rather than add additional mass to store it in. Considering it had only been three weeks, he thought it was impressive that he’d gained anything at all. He thought it was noticeable, anyway. Mostly in his chest and triceps. And the scale agreed with him: one and a half kilograms heavier.

But who was he kidding? He still doesn’t look anything like that Totem pole bloke. Why’d he even bother? 

He should just accept that he and Rose are only friends now. It’ll be less humiliating that way.

He puts his several shirts and suit jacket back on, and heads for his bedroom door, intending to do some actual maintenance. No use heading to the gym anymore.

It’s late enough Earth time that Rose must have given up searching after him and gone to bed by now. He should have until morning to prepare to face her again.

But before he’s gone ten steps out his bedroom door, he hears voices coming from down the hall. Voices, plural. Definitely not just Rose talking to herself, either.

Is that?… no.

He walks down the corridor as fast as he can without his trainers making any noise, and as the voices get louder, he only becomes more certain of the identity of the guest.

Donna.

He loiters around the corner of the kitchen door, listening.

To his surprise, they aren’t talking about him. Donna is telling Rose about her latest trip to Paris. Winning the lottery really did the Noble family good: even when she isn’t traveling the universe with them, her family is traveling the Earth.

Before too long, he gets bored with hearing about the trip, and steps into the doorframe.

Donna’s back is turned, but Rose is facing his way, and her head snaps up to look at him, looking surprised that he emerged at all.

Donna turns around to see what Rose is looking at.

“Donna?” he announces with faux surprise.

“Bout time you showed up, space man,” Donna says in greeting. “Glad you put your shirt back on,” she adds.

He winces, putting a hand over his eyes.

Rose already told her everything, then.

He finds himself wishing he was born with an aptitude for teleportation rather than telepathy.

“Come on in and have a cuppa with us,” Donna says, unfazed by his reaction, waving him inside.

“Got some work to do,” he lies, struggling to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “You and I can catch up later?”

He doesn’t wait for her answer before he strides away quickly back towards his room. The console room is too out in the open, and he doesn’t want to risk being ambushed by the two of them later on.

They both call after him, and he can hear a hint of remorse in their voices. But he doesn’t care.

He almost makes it back to his room, too, with no sign of either of them on his trail. But unexpectedly, just as he rounds the last bend and pushes open his door, Donna sneaks up behind him, hollering his name.

“Wha – how did you!?” he throws himself inside the room and tries to shut the door, but she leaps through the gap behind him, and he closes the door with her on the wrong side.

“How did you do that?” he asks, whinging a bit.

“I don’t know” She shrugs, giddy. “Think the TARDIS may have helped. She likes me.” She preens, smiling up at the ceiling.

The Doctor rolls his eyes. She always sides with the women.

“Nice to see you, too, by the way,” Donna spits out in his direction, clearly feeling snubbed.

“Sorry.” He can hear the apathy in his voice. “Just not in the mood for talking at the moment.”

“Well, tough.” She points to the bed, commanding him to sit.

He drags his feet across the carpet toward the bed, knowing it’s useless to try to argue with Donna.

“What’s going on?” she asks once he slumps down. “Rose thinks you’re acting weird.”

“I know,” he says, mopey and derisive.

“You don’t think you are?”

“I was not attempting to act weird, no. I was…” he stops himself before he reveals too much, wondering whether it’s a good idea to tell her the truth. Will she just laugh and call him silly, too?

“You were what?”

He sighs angrily. “Let me just start at the beginning.”

He gives her a brief summary of what led him to this point: the relationship standstill, the Blu-ray disc, the talk with Jack, the weeks of weight lifting and stuffing his face with twice the food he usually does. And finally, the confrontation in the library.

When he finishes, Donna is silent for longer than he expected. Her eyes are closed, and she’s shaking her head. Like any second now she’s going to explode and yell at him for being incredibly stupid. It definitely looks like one of those times.

“Oh, you dumbo,” she says as she finally opens her eyes.

Yep, he was right.

She gets up and thumps him across the back of the head with her palm, hard enough to really rattle his head.

“Ow!”

“Am I gonna have to intervene in your relationship forever?” She’s pacing his room now, her hands in the air, basically shouting.

“What is it? What did I do so wrong? I tried being romantic, it didn’t work!”

“She isn’t watchin’ movies with sexy blokes because she doesn’t fancy you, idiot! She’s watchin’ them because she DOES FANCY YOU! She’s so sexually frustrated she needs a bloody outlet for it!”

“What???”

For a long moment, he can’t form a coherent sentence, either out loud or in his head. The only thought he has is an endless string of question marks.

“D’you really think she’s that shallow?” Donna continues when he doesn’t respond in any meaningful way. “For whatever reason I cannot understand, she’s arse over bloody elbow for you. She doesn’t want you to get chiseled. She loves you the way you are.”

Oh.

Really?

“So she… does want to be with me… like that?”

“Oh, bleeding...” She stops herself before she says whatever curse word she was about to say, and puts her fingertips on the side of her head, willing herself to calm down. Her hands are practically shaking with frustration. Yikes, he really must be thick. “Yes,” she draws out the word, exasperated.

Right.

But. Then…

“Then what… erm…” He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. “Why hasn’t she… you know…”

 “She doesn’t know you love her back. You never said! I can’t believe you never said!!!” She throws her hands up again, looking like she could throttle him.

The Doctor’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head.

“She thinks I don’t… WHAT?”

All this time, she was waiting for him to make a move… he just hadn’t made the right one? He had no idea that needed saying so badly. It was implicit, he thought. He’d done so much to show her (or so he thought) what she meant to him, he had no idea three little English words were weighing on her heart so heavily.

“You do, though, don’t you?” Donna asks, a little calmer now. “I mean, you spent the entire time I was with you talking about her – Rose this, Rose that – but, it’s worth double checking. Nothing’s changed, right? You still love her?”

“Of course I do. Yes.” He nods forcefully, swallowing down a sudden wave of nausea and anxiety.

“Well, go!” She thrusts her index finger at the door. “Tell her, fix it!”

“Right. Yes. Of course.” He nods again, but doesn’t budge from where he’s standing. Just stares at the door, as though it’ll come to him.

“While I’m young!” Donna shoos him towards the door with both hands, and it spurs him into action. He springs across the room, throwing open the door and shouting Rose’s name down the hall before he can second guess himself again.

Having heard his call, Rose meets him halfway between his room and the kitchen. He almost runs into her again around a sharp turn.

“Hey,” she takes his arm, and looks concerned. “Where’d you run off to again? Where’s Donna, did you see her?” She peers around the Doctor, searching for Donna.

“Rose, listen.” He readjusts their hands so he can hold both of hers in both of his. “I was talking with Donna. And there are a few things I need to tell you.”

“Okay…” She looks nervous that whatever it is will be bad news, so he starts off without hesitating again.

“A few weeks ago, I found that film in the player in the media room. The one about the strippers.”

“What, Magic Mike?”

“That’s the one.”

“Didn’t realize I left that in there. Sorry. Know it’s not your sort of film, ‘s why I didn’t watch it with you.”

“Don’t worry. But look, I know it’s stupid, but, the blokes in that film are a lot more muscular than I am. And when I saw that, I thought… I was worried that, you didn’t fancy me anymore.”

“Doctor, that’s –” Rose starts to interrupt, but he stops her.

“I know. Donna told me. But it’s what I thought at the time. I thought maybe, you didn’t think I was big enough for you. I stopped in Cardiff and talked with Jack, and he suggested that my hunch might be right.”

Rose covers her mouth with her hand, preventing herself from interrupting him again, or else hiding whatever emotion she’s feeling.

“So I got a training video and started lifting weights in the TARDIS gym. I was hoping you’d notice I was getting stronger. But it didn’t take me long to realize my plan wasn’t working. All you did was laugh at me and ask me if I was sick.” It still hurts a little now, in retrospect, but now that he knows Rose doesn’t find him pathetic it’s a little easier to handle. “But that’s why I was acting differently, anyway.”

Rose gives him a few seconds, to make sure he’s said all he wanted to say.

“Doctor, I am really sorry you went through all that. I’ll be honest, I had no idea that’s what you were doing,” she confesses. “But whatever Donna said, she’s probably right. I definitely don’t need you to bulk up. Or even want you to.”

“No?”

“Nope.” She shakes her head resolutely.

He ponders that for a moment, encouraged.

“And you don’t think I’m shrimpy?”

“No,” she giggles. “Where’d you even hear that?”

“Jack.” He pouts.

“Well, next time we see him, I’ll slap him for that.”

“I’d like that.” The Doctor gives her a proper smile.

“I can’t believe you thought I didn’t fancy you just because you found one stupid movie.”

“Those blokes are proper fit, Rose.”

“Yeah, I mean, they’re nice to look at. It’s fun. But… that’s it. It’s not like I fancy them.”

“You don’t?”

“No.” She laughs, incredulous.

“But they’re so… manly.”

“You are, too…” she says, running a hand down his tie. “In your own way.”

He can’t help the shiver that goes down his spine as she does that.

“Then… why’d you laugh at me, before?”

“Because, Doctor. All that stuff you were doing, that wasn’t you. It was obvious something was up. I was too busy worrying about what might be wrong to spend much time admiring your muscles. If you’d just told me the truth, I might have reacted differently.”

Woah. There goes that shiver again. Whew. He wipes his brow a little.

“Yeah?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Well…” she backpedals a little, downplaying her interest. “I dunno. Definitely possible. But anyway… thank you for finally telling me. Please don’t feel the need to continue your workout regimen for my sake.”

“That is a relief.”

“So, was that, er… all you wanted to tell me?” That disappointment he’s become used to flits across her face again.

He just hopes what he has to say next will make it disappear.

“Just one more thing, actually.”

“Yeah, what’s that?” A tiny smile brings just a little bit of hope to her eyes.   

“What you said…. On the beach. Just before we ran out of time. Is that still… I mean, do you still…”

“Yes.” She doesn’t hesitate or pretend it isn’t true, and it makes his hearts flutter like mad in his chest. Oh, Donna was telling the truth. Logically he knew she was, but… hearing it from Rose herself is something else. Her gaze falls to his tie, and she squeezes the hand still in hers almost too hard, getting nervous that he’s taking so long. But the Doctor lets her hand go, so he can wrap both his arms around her waist instead. He pulls her in closer until he can almost touch her forehead with his nose.

“Rose Tyler.” He smiles softly as her eyes meet his. “I love you too. So much.”

Gripping onto the lapels of his jacket, Rose brings his mouth down against hers.

For the first time ever, she kisses him.

And it’s even more brilliant than he dreamed it would be.

[ofstormsandwolves]

Catching up

Written for @legendslikestardust‘s pride month

After several years apart, the Doctor and Rose have a lot of catching up to do. And maybe a secret or two to share, too...

Metacrisis 10/Rose Tyler, bisexual Rose

AO3 (account needed) | Whofic 

“-And then there was the time that Martha and I-”

Rose shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and the Doctor abruptly stopped talking. They were halfway into the slow and arduous zeppelin flight from Bergen to London, and despite Pete booking them first class tickets (“They have little booths Rose! Little booths! We don’t have to share with your mother, do we?”), the flight still had Rose shifting every few moments and frowning out her window.

“Are you alright, Rose?” the Doctor asked after a long moment of frowning at her in confusion.

She nodded, offering him a weak smile across the table of their small two-person booth. Jackie was across from them in her own private booth, catching up on a few hours of sleep before they were back in London and little Tony was bouncing about.

“You’ve been very quiet,” the Doctor noted, voice soft. He leaned across the table, entwined their fingers, watched Rose with worried eyes. “I know this probably wasn’t what you had in mind when you started the Dimension Cannon project, but it is alright, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Rose told him, and although the smile still seemed a little strained, she squeezed his hand in hers. There had been a lot to wrap her head around in the four hours since they’d once more been left at Bad Wolf Bay, but she knew that that was the right answer for her to give. It was her honest answer.

“Is it the stories?” he questioned, still watching her in concern. “I just thought it’d pass the time, you know. We’ve still got a few hours till we reach London, and, well...” He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “I don’t have to talk if you don’t want me to.”

Rose sighed a little at that, and sat forward in her chair. “It’s not that, Doctor,” she told him, and her eyes were on their conjoined hands rather than his face. “Honestly, I’ve loved hearing about stuff you got up to. An’ I’m glad you had Martha and Donna to keep you company... It’s just, hearing you talk about what happened to you while I was gone made me realise, there’s a lot I need to catch you up on too.”

The Doctor nodded in understanding then. “It’s been a long day,” he said suddenly, though his voice was still soft. “Whatever you want to tell me, it can wait. It can wait till we’re back in London, or until tomorrow, or even next week. I’m not going anywhere, Rose.”

She gave him a soft smile then, looking relieved. He beamed back.

“Go on,” he told her softly, lifting her hand to press a soft kiss to her knuckles before letting her go, “get some sleep.”

~0~0~

Once in London, the Doctor and Rose made the decision to go straight to Rose’s posh apartment rather than heading to the Tyler Mansion, although Jackie made them swear that they would go round to the mansion the next day. They hailed a cab outside the zeppelin port, earning themselves some odd looks from the taxi driver when they explained they had no luggage (the cabbie looked even more perplexed as he seemed to recognise Rose, and she quickly tugged the Doctor into the back of the cab to avoid awkward questions).

Rose’s apartment was actually a modern-build in an old converted factory in east London. Close enough to Canary Wharf for Torchwood work but not too close, and distanced from the hustle and bustle of central London. The interior of the flat was decorated tastefully, although sparsely.

“Wasn’t expecting to still be here,” Rose admitted sheepishly once she’d let the Doctor into the apartment and he’d had a few minutes to look around. “Suppose we’ll have to think about redecorating now.”

The Doctor couldn’t help but beam at that. She’d said ‘we’.  Rose grinned back at him.

“Look at you,” she teased as she padded, barefoot to the kitchen-diner, “going all domestic!”

He knew she was teasing him, so didn’t dignify it with a response. Instead, he followed her through to the kitchen-diner and sat at the kitchen island while she made tea.

“So,” Rose spoke up while the kettle boiled, “from what you were saying earlier, sounds like you and Martha were travelling together for a while.”

“A few months,” the Doctor responded, suddenly becoming much more interested in her fruit bowl.

Rose frowned. “Only a few months?” she asked in confusion.

He shrugged. “More or less. It’s... Complicated,” he admitted slowly. “There was this... Thing. We lived through an entire year before it was reversed, so while I remember it, I’m not really sure it counted.”

Suddenly, Rose was beside his barstool, hands on his face as she gently encouraged him to face her. “Want to talk about it?” she asked gently.

The Doctor sniffed. “Nah,” he dismissed. “Not now. I’ll tell you about it, but not tonight. It’s... It’s sort of a long story.”

Rose nodded, but didn’t look convinced.

“Anyway, Rose Tyler, what about you?” he asked, forcing a sudden grin. “How is it being the Vitex Heiress?”

At that, Rose rolled her eyes. She crossed back to the kettle and finished off making the tea, her back to the Doctor even as she responded to his question.

“I suppose it’s not too bad most of the time,” she admitted slowly. “I mean, I have to attend posh parties sometimes, and Vitex events, but they’re not too often. And of course, there are incidents like the taxi driver earlier.” She glanced over her shoulder at him then. “But it’s not too bad.” She fished the tea bags out of the mugs and crossed over to the kitchen island, taking a seat beside the Doctor. “I mean, the worst thing is if and when magazines and that run articles on me. You know the sort, they get one photo of me while I’m out shopping and somehow it’s news.”

The Doctor’s brow furrowed at that. “They’ve not been hounding you, have they?”

Rose shook her head. “Like I said, it’s not too bad. But every now and then they’ll write an article about how I don’t seem to be seeing anyone, or why don’t I have a boyfriend. Or, worse, they catch a glimpse of me out with Jake, or Mickey, or someone from Torchwood and then start rumours that we’re dating.”

The Doctor blinked at her then. “And are you telling me that in, what, four years of being in Pete’s World you’ve not been on a single date?”

Rose flushed a little then, and studied her mug intently. The Doctor smirked a little. While he wasn’t too sure how he felt about Rose dating other men, clearly none of them had stuck around and thus weren’t a threat. And also, he had always liked it when she got embarrassed.

“A few,” she admitted. “But most were set up by Mum. She only set me up with about three people though, and when they didn’t work out, she left me alone. She understood what I was going through, I suppose, with her losing Dad- I mean, my original Dad-, so she didn’t push after that. An’ all the people she set me up with were nice enough, and they were, like, sons of Dad’s friends for years, but it just didn’t work out.” She paused. “Then there were two others, both from Torchwood. But that didn’t exactly work out either.”

“How long ago?” the Doctor asked, and he surprised even himself with that- he wasn’t jealous, he was just concerned. While it was clear Rose hadn’t wanted to be with anyone other than him, there was a hint of loneliness in her tone.

“The last one was nearly two and a half years ago,” Rose admitted softly. “The first three were all in the first year, and then the two from Torchwood were soon after.”

“And did any of the relationships last very long?” the Doctor asked, and yes, he did sound a little jealous then.

“Never got past a second date,” Rose told him, shaking her head. “The three that Mum set me up with never got past the first date. The only one I felt particularly drawn to was-”

She trailed off suddenly, ducked her head once more, and flushed. The Doctor frowned.

“Rose?”

She bit her lip, met his gaze hesitantly. “Promise me you won’t, I dunno, freak out or something?” she asked, her voice small.

“Promise,” he said, though his voice wavered.

“Ok.” She took a breath. “The last person I, well, went on any dates with, was a colleague from Torchwood. Her name was Tara.”

The Doctor blinked.

“I dated a girl, Doctor. I’m, well, I guess I’m bisexual.”

The Doctor blinked again. “Oh,” he said after a moment. “Ok.”

Then, Rose blinked. “Is that it?” she asked him, and she actually sort of sounded relieved.

He shrugged. “Why wouldn’t it be?” he asked her. “It doesn’t change who you are, Rose. And clearly you still love me, so... Why did you think I’d freak out?”

Her shoulders slumped. “I dunno,” she sighed. “It’s just, it took Mum and Dad a while to get their heads around it, and Mickey, too. I mean, they were supportive and everything, just... They still had to process it, you know? And I just assumed it would be the same with you, that you’d need a day or two to process the information.”

The Doctor just smiled and tapped the side of his head. “Still Time Lord up here, Rose. 900 years of time and space, and you being bisexual isn’t remotely a problem.”

Rose nodded mutely at that, staring at him. “I feel silly now,” she admitted slowly. “After all that panicking on the zeppelin back, and you’re not remotely bothered-”

“Wait, that’s why you kept fidgeting?” the Doctor asked, perplexed.

She nodded, biting her lip. “Well, yeah. You were tellin’ me all this stuff that had happened to you, an’ I realised we both had a lot of stuff to catch each other up on, and my dating Tara was one of them. I mean, we never got past a second date, ‘cause Tara could see that my heart wasn’t really in it, but we’re still friends, and I wanted to tell you before you found out from someone else. Like Jake, or Mum and Dad, or someone from Torchwood, an’ I just started panicking. ‘Cause I knew I had to tell you, an’ soon, but I didn’t know how. I mean, I never even realised I was bisexual before Tara asked me out, you know? Sure, Shareen and Keisha and I used to mess about rating girls at school and stuff, and I found some of them attractive, but I never really thought anything of it-”

Suddenly, her mug was pulled from her grasp and set on the kitchen worktop, then the Doctor’s hands were on her shoulders.

“Rose, calm down. It’s fine, ok? It’s all fine. Like I said, it doesn’t change who you are, and it certainly doesn’t change how I feel about you. You’re still Rose Tyler, ok?”

Rose nodded meekly at that, staring at him wide-eyed. Once she’d calmed down enough, she finished off her tea, and then the Doctor took her mug from her to put it with hers in the sink.

“I’ll deal with them in the morning,” he told her. “It’s getting late.” Indeed, the sky out of the kitchen windows was already a dark blue, punctuated by the street lights outside. “And I think that’s enough catching up for tonight. How about we get to bed?”

Rose nodded, took the Doctor’s hand in hers, and led him towards the bedroom.