On Misunderstandings
Nov. 7th, 2011 08:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wishiknewwhoTitle: On Misunderstandings
Author: wishiknewwho
Rating: T
Characters: Ten / Rose
Dislcaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, but if I did there would have been a lot more kissing.
Spoilers: None whatsoever.
Summary: The Doctor has a moment of misunderstanding followed by a moment of panic followed by a moment of fluff.
Beta: The enchanting![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
salimali
Author Notes: I'm a bit rusty at all this. Read at your own risk!
The Doctor awoke slowly, his sheets and blankets enveloping him in a warm cocoon. He inhaled deeply, pulling in a smell he’d know anywhere, the subtle scent of Rose Tyler’s perfume. A slow smile crept across his lips as the details of the night before played behind his eyelids. They had finally, finally made love and it had been nothing short of perfect.
Well, perhaps perfect wasn’t the best word. There had been some awkward moments. He’d definitely hopped around on one foot and then the other for a good two minutes as he’d struggled to untie his trainers. And then he might have been a little hasty as he’d helped her to lie back on the bed, their foreheads bumping sharply as they giggled through the pain. He didn’t even want to think about the squeak he’d let out when her hand had drifted lower and touched him just there, but it wasn’t the most manly of sounds. She’d laughed at him then, but she didn’t seem cruel. If anything, she’d looked a little proud.
But the awkward moments were far overshadowed by the magical ones, at least to him. Her hands tangling in his hair, the first touch of her lips to his in a kiss that both of them had initiated, her soft sigh as his hands found her waist. Her hands, slow and sure as she unbuttoned his shirt, her tongue tucked between her teeth and her eyes shyly avoiding his. They way they’d moved together, her toes pressing into his calves as her back arched, his head falling to press into her shoulder. Maybe perfect was the right word.
He stretched and rolled over, eager to see what Rose looked like as she slept and even more eager to kiss her awake. He opened his eyes, expecting to see her hair fanned out across his pillow or perhaps her head buried under the other pillow, her arm hanging half off the bed.
Instead, he was met with an empty bed and an empty pillow. The covers didn’t even look like they’d been disturbed. He felt his hearts sink and a knot form in his stomach as the realisation struck him: she’d made love to him, waited until he’d fallen asleep, and then snuck out of his bedroom.
His only question was why. She’d seemed so happy the night before, smiling at him, whispering his name, holding his hand so tightly as he’d pushed her over the edge. She didn’t look like a woman who was just having sex; she’d looked like a woman in love.
He tried to fight down the panic as he thought of all the reasons she might have left. Maybe he hadn’t satisfied her as he’d thought. Perhaps she’d realised what a mistake she’d made, and didn’t want to get involved with him. He was much older than her and not even from the same planet. He could probably never be what she wanted, could never give her what she deserved.
Shaking his head, he got up and started to get dressed. He’d just have to pretend that nothing happened, if that’s what she wanted. It would be difficult, but he would get by. He didn’t have to kiss her, didn’t need to hold her. He’d only fallen asleep with his head pressed against her heartbeat once; it wasn’t like he needed the sound to sleep. He could go back to just holding her hand and giving her the occasional hug.
Except he couldn’t. He would always want more from her now that he knew what it could be like. Every time he held her hand he’d want to pull her in closer and every time he hugged her, he’d want to kiss her. There was no going back. He would just have to convince her that she belonged with him, would have to promise her that he could be better.
He was just buttoning his shirt when the door popped open and Rose stepped in, humming under her breath and balancing a tray laden with breakfast. He paused mid-button and looked at her with wide eyes.
“Good morning, Doctor” she said, her voice flirty and her eyes sparkling. “Sleep well?”
His relief must have been evident on his face because her smile slipped into a frown.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. Her eyes traveled to the bed where’d he hastily thrown back the covers and back to him. “Where did you think I was?”
“Um,” he stuttered. He didn’t want to admit that he’d thought she didn’t want him.
“Did you think I’d snuck out?” she asked, concerned. She put the tray down on the table and moved toward him.
He looked down at her feet.
“Doctor,” she said softly. Her hand came up to touch his cheek softly.
“I might have done,” he whispered sheepishly, bringing his hand up and covering hers.
She took a step closer and rubbed her nose against his. “I would never,” she said.
“Okay,” he breathed out. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer and spinning her around until her back was to the bed. He walked her backwards, kissing her with each step, and then playfully pushed her onto the mattress.
Her laughter rang out in the room, heralding the relief and warmth he felt in his hearts. “But I made toast,” she protested as he joined her, covering her body with his own.
He had been wrong, so gloriously wrong, and all he wanted was to celebrate how thick he could be. He finally had everything he ever wanted, and he didn’t want to waste a second. “Toast can wait,” he said as he pulled the covers over them.
Author: wishiknewwho
Rating: T
Characters: Ten / Rose
Dislcaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, but if I did there would have been a lot more kissing.
Spoilers: None whatsoever.
Summary: The Doctor has a moment of misunderstanding followed by a moment of panic followed by a moment of fluff.
Beta: The enchanting
salimaliAuthor Notes: I'm a bit rusty at all this. Read at your own risk!
The Doctor awoke slowly, his sheets and blankets enveloping him in a warm cocoon. He inhaled deeply, pulling in a smell he’d know anywhere, the subtle scent of Rose Tyler’s perfume. A slow smile crept across his lips as the details of the night before played behind his eyelids. They had finally, finally made love and it had been nothing short of perfect.
Well, perhaps perfect wasn’t the best word. There had been some awkward moments. He’d definitely hopped around on one foot and then the other for a good two minutes as he’d struggled to untie his trainers. And then he might have been a little hasty as he’d helped her to lie back on the bed, their foreheads bumping sharply as they giggled through the pain. He didn’t even want to think about the squeak he’d let out when her hand had drifted lower and touched him just there, but it wasn’t the most manly of sounds. She’d laughed at him then, but she didn’t seem cruel. If anything, she’d looked a little proud.
But the awkward moments were far overshadowed by the magical ones, at least to him. Her hands tangling in his hair, the first touch of her lips to his in a kiss that both of them had initiated, her soft sigh as his hands found her waist. Her hands, slow and sure as she unbuttoned his shirt, her tongue tucked between her teeth and her eyes shyly avoiding his. They way they’d moved together, her toes pressing into his calves as her back arched, his head falling to press into her shoulder. Maybe perfect was the right word.
He stretched and rolled over, eager to see what Rose looked like as she slept and even more eager to kiss her awake. He opened his eyes, expecting to see her hair fanned out across his pillow or perhaps her head buried under the other pillow, her arm hanging half off the bed.
Instead, he was met with an empty bed and an empty pillow. The covers didn’t even look like they’d been disturbed. He felt his hearts sink and a knot form in his stomach as the realisation struck him: she’d made love to him, waited until he’d fallen asleep, and then snuck out of his bedroom.
His only question was why. She’d seemed so happy the night before, smiling at him, whispering his name, holding his hand so tightly as he’d pushed her over the edge. She didn’t look like a woman who was just having sex; she’d looked like a woman in love.
He tried to fight down the panic as he thought of all the reasons she might have left. Maybe he hadn’t satisfied her as he’d thought. Perhaps she’d realised what a mistake she’d made, and didn’t want to get involved with him. He was much older than her and not even from the same planet. He could probably never be what she wanted, could never give her what she deserved.
Shaking his head, he got up and started to get dressed. He’d just have to pretend that nothing happened, if that’s what she wanted. It would be difficult, but he would get by. He didn’t have to kiss her, didn’t need to hold her. He’d only fallen asleep with his head pressed against her heartbeat once; it wasn’t like he needed the sound to sleep. He could go back to just holding her hand and giving her the occasional hug.
Except he couldn’t. He would always want more from her now that he knew what it could be like. Every time he held her hand he’d want to pull her in closer and every time he hugged her, he’d want to kiss her. There was no going back. He would just have to convince her that she belonged with him, would have to promise her that he could be better.
He was just buttoning his shirt when the door popped open and Rose stepped in, humming under her breath and balancing a tray laden with breakfast. He paused mid-button and looked at her with wide eyes.
“Good morning, Doctor” she said, her voice flirty and her eyes sparkling. “Sleep well?”
His relief must have been evident on his face because her smile slipped into a frown.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. Her eyes traveled to the bed where’d he hastily thrown back the covers and back to him. “Where did you think I was?”
“Um,” he stuttered. He didn’t want to admit that he’d thought she didn’t want him.
“Did you think I’d snuck out?” she asked, concerned. She put the tray down on the table and moved toward him.
He looked down at her feet.
“Doctor,” she said softly. Her hand came up to touch his cheek softly.
“I might have done,” he whispered sheepishly, bringing his hand up and covering hers.
She took a step closer and rubbed her nose against his. “I would never,” she said.
“Okay,” he breathed out. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer and spinning her around until her back was to the bed. He walked her backwards, kissing her with each step, and then playfully pushed her onto the mattress.
Her laughter rang out in the room, heralding the relief and warmth he felt in his hearts. “But I made toast,” she protested as he joined her, covering her body with his own.
He had been wrong, so gloriously wrong, and all he wanted was to celebrate how thick he could be. He finally had everything he ever wanted, and he didn’t want to waste a second. “Toast can wait,” he said as he pulled the covers over them.
