Title: Pajamas & Preconceived Notions
Author: jellybean728
Pairing: Ten/Rose
Rating: Teen (innuendo and implied sexual situations)
Summary: Sharing a bed with a Time Lord is nerve wracking!
Disclaimer: Doctor Who does not belong to me, I belong to Doctor Who.
Beta: daisyb10 & cytherea999
Rose sighed as she looked around the tiny hut into which she and the Doctor had been ushered. She understood, really she did, that not all the places they visited were futuristic and advanced, but why did they always end up staying the night in either a jail cell or under a thatched roof? She spied something that looked suspiciously like a chamber pot fashioned out of a bamboo-type plant and gritted her teeth. Of course.
Once again, they'd been mistaken for a couple and given a single room in which to stay. She wasn't sure, exactly, why this bothered her so much. Well, no. That wasn't strictly the truth of course; she knew exactly why it bothered her, but she was never going to say so. When she was feeling more charitable, she would agree that given the circumstances … a youngish looking man and a young woman traveling together, alone, invading each other's personal space and taking such obvious glee in each other's company …fine, yes, they looked like a couple.
But they weren't, not in any of the ways that mattered. And if that was frustrating, it was definitely because she hated people's preconceived notions and not because she really wanted to be one half of a couple with the Doctor.
Because she didn't.
At all.
The flap of animal skin that served as the door to their temporary home rustled behind her as the immediate object of her irritation entered. Not that he was being irritating; or at least, not any more so than usual. It was more that he was, yet again, totally immune to any of the same concerns she had.
He had to be immune to them, because that was the only conclusion that Rose allowed herself to draw. To consider, for more than a few nail-bitingly intense moments, that he was just immune to her, was not good for her sanity. Sharing a room, even sharing a bed didn't bother the Doctor because…because he was the Doctor. He didn't do domestic, and that included domestic. Despite what he'd insinuated with Captain Jack, the Doctor didn't dance.
Still, Rose couldn't help but be frustrated that in his millennia of traveling with, apparently, various human females, it had never occurred to his enormous and impressive Time Lord brain that certain situations might be…well, situations. But no, the Doctor saw the regular occurrences of their being forced to share a bed, a cot, a straw mat, a hammock and on one rather remarkable occasion something disturbingly like a harness Captain Jack had once described as just another adventure to be had. Since she'd very nearly convinced herself the Doctor didn't feel those sorts of things, it made sense they wouldn't necessarily occur to him, but still. Recreational math, the complete works of William Shakespeare, recipes for explosives and banana baked goods in equal measure…you'd think there would be room in his head for the warning signs of accidentally arousing a human female!
She sighed quietly. Given the fact that any minute now the Doctor was going to suggest getting into bed, there was no sense getting all worked up over this again. If she let herself keep thinking in this vein…well, she'd get all worked up. Having decided to be completely adult about the situation, Rose was just unfastening her denim jacket when the Doctor began his expected ramble.
"Lovely village, isn't it? Been here only three years. Three years, Rose, and just look at all they've built! Family homes, a church of sorts, a school house, there's a pub and a shop! Rose, did you see the shop? Well, I say shop, more of a bartering center really, but the principle's the same. Were you at the church, when you wandered off? Still not giving up hope you'll stop doing that some day, you know. While I was talking to the tribal leaders? You went missing, thought you might have gone to the church. Temple? Worship hall? Never did find out exactly what they call it. Polytheists, Rose, like your Greeks or Romans with all those different gods. Which, as it happens, is why they're so concerned about that meteor. Concerned their sky god, Aercaela, is displeased with them…"
"Doctor?" Rose interrupted as she struggled with the last two snaps on her jacket. It was a well worn item, and the material around the bottom two snaps was all but nonexistent. Just a few determined little threads held those snaps in place and Rose always took great care in unfastening them. She loved that jacket. But the Doctor's prattling was doing nothing to soothe her irritation, and she was keenly aware how close she was to ruining the jacket completely by ripping it off and throwing it at him just to shut him up.
"Yes Rose?"
"Speaking of that meteor, how far off did you say it landed?"
"Oh, two or three miles at least."
Rose could hear him rustling about behind her, although with what she couldn't fathom. It wasn't as though there were any trinkets for him to examine. Or sniff. Or lick.
"Right," she said, unsnapping the second to last button successfully one more time. "It's just, we're going to have a hike tomorrow, yeah? Maybe I'd better get some sleep."
"Sleep, yes, excellent. I was just about to say, I told the tribal leaders we'd go and have a look at their 'sky fire' for them tomorrow, so we'd better turn in."
"We?" she asked, struggling with the last snap and absolutely hearing a thread tear.
"Yes we. Us. As in you and me. The Doctor and Rose? I haven't slept in ages, must be nearly a month, I could do with a quick kip."
Rose eyed the bed of straw covered with more animal skins in the corner of the room with something like dismay, hope, horror and bitter irony. It was small. Very small. Really quite small.
"Both of us?"
A distracted 'hmmm' was all the response she got. Distracted by something, that was the Doctor all right. She just wished he was distracted by her. Well, if he was off in some other Time Lordly mental pursuit, he probably wouldn't even notice her discomfort, which might make it that much easier to get over. A frantic rustling sound was followed by a soft but triumphant "Aha!" from the Doctor.
Rose commenced trying to unfasten that last snap on her jacket.
"So, Rose, top or bottom?"
The snap broke.
~oOo~
"What?" she managed to squeak.
"Top or bottom?"
Rose remained frozen, completely paralyzed by the insinuation. And the completely matter of fact tone the Doctor used to make it. He sounded normal; as if the decision was one she should have no trouble making. As if … as if he thought she might have already considered it and have an answer prepared. Which she had, considered it, but he most certainly did not need to know that. Ever.
Rose managed to tune back into reality to follow the rest of the Doctor's ramble.
"You'd prefer the top, I'd imagine. Probably best, actually, considering the…anatomy. Not that I've any preference, mind you. Perfectly fine either way, me." Rose choked. The Doctor seemed to interpret that as a negative response. "Well, unless you'd prefer the bottom. Can't think why you would. Although," he dragged the word out, as if really considering the possibilities of Rose and the bottom and she began to feel slightly light-headed. "Or …oh, or maybe you'd rather have both? Of course you could have both, if you wanted. I'd have to…but that would be fine, really. Just, you know, fine. Or would you rather have neither? That, well, that could be a bit uncomfortable. For you, I mean. Not for me. Well, I say not for me, it's not that I think it would be more comfortable for me. Doesn't really matter to me. I'm…what? Immune? No, unconcerned? Indifferent! That's it! Le mot juste! But humans, well, physiology's just all different, isn't it?"
Rose croaked. How much thought had he given this, exactly? Or had he done this before? Oh, that was even worse. Because how could she have been so stupid? Of course he'd done this before. 900 years old, him. Traveled the whole of time and space. He'd told her even, that he danced. She just hadn't thought he'd meant…dancing. But really, how naïve of her was that? Just because he'd never wanted to dance with her, didn't mean he'd never done it. And just what did he mean he was indifferent?
"Rose?"
She finally turned around, her mind a complete whirlwind of disappointment with herself, and with him somehow, and elation and confusion and hope and lust and …what was he waving at her?
"Top or bottom?"
Rose blinked. The Doctor waved the material in his hands at her again, clearly concerned with her lack of response. Rose blinked again. The material was a pale blue check pattern and looked remarkably like…
"I've only got the one set of pajamas in the coat. Did you want the top? Those jeans don't look like they'd be very comfortable for sleeping in."
"Pajamas?" Rose asked stupidly.
"Pajamas. Sleep wear. Jim-jams," the Doctor confirmed. He tilted his head to one side. "You all right?"
"Fine," she squeaked and then cleared her throat. "Fine. Sorry, just …I broke the snap on my jacket."
"Ah. Yes. Well, very disturbing, wardrobe malfunctions. You know, there was an interplanetary war in the Delsertia system once that was caused by a zipper failure at an inopportune moment," the Doctor raised his eyebrows and Rose smirked.
"Right," Rose drawled. She took a deep breath and held out her hand. "Bottom, please."
"So you plan to sleep topless then?" The Doctor asked, and did Rose detect a hint of hope in his voice? No, no she certainly did not.
"Now that was worthy of Captain Jack. Fine, the top. Give it here," she said, wiggling her fingers at him impatiently.
"Yes, of course. Sorry." The Doctor handed her the pajama top and then stared at her expectantly.
Rose snorted.
"Were you planning on turning 'round? 'Cause I don't fancy giving you a view of my knickers." She grinned cheekily, trying to make sure the Doctor realized she was joking. Which she wasn't, exactly, because she'd really rather like for him to see her knickers up close and personal, but that wasn't information she was planning to share.
The Doctor blushed.
Rose stared. He was blushing. Oh yes, he was definitely blushing. And now, as he began tugging on his earlobe, Rose realized he was quite aware he was blushing. Why would he be blushing?
"Doctor?"
"Right, sorry," the Doctor yelped, and promptly turned around. Rose began to shimmy out of her jeans when a sound reached her ears. A sound that was suspiciously zippery. Zipper-like. Zipper-ish.
Bent over, with her jeans around her ankles, Rose watched the Doctor step out of his trousers and into the pajama bottoms. The very slim, very well fitted pajama bottoms. He'd already draped his suit jacket over the only chair in the room, and his tie and button down shirt soon followed it. Finally, the Doctor stood in just the blue pajamas bottoms and his vest.
"Rose? Can I turn around now?"
"Right, o' course." Rose finished stepping out of her jeans, yanked off her t-shirt and pulled the top on over her head without even unbuttoning it. It fell to mid-thigh, and for once she was grateful for the Doctor's tall frame. "All set."
The Doctor turned and watched with no little fascination while Rose maneuvered her bra out from underneath the pajama top.
"Brilliant."
Rose stood a little uncertainly, not quite sure exactly how the two of them were meant to fit in the tiny little straw bed. The Doctor, ever the eager experimenter, flopped gracefully onto the bed and wiggled his way as far toward the edge as possible. He'd removed his overcoat and suit jacket and placed them on the tiny chair that was in the opposite corner of the room, and Rose tried very hard not to stare at how tight those bottoms really were as he wriggled and bounced slightly.
She wasn't overly successful.
Since the Doctor usually only slept an hour or so, she assumed that he'd laid on the edge of the bed that wasn't up against the wall so he could rise without waking her later. And while she couldn't help but note how thoughtful it was of him, it also left her no choices other than climbing over him to get to the empty side, which she would most definitely not be doing, or climbing into bed from the foot, which seemed only slightly more appealing. It was really a very narrow space and she couldn't picture herself crawling in without looking like she was crawling into bed with him.
As a compromise, Rose sat at the edge of the bed and dragged herself backwards using her elbows until she was approximately even with the Doctor. She chanced barely a glance in his direction before turning on her side and mumbling a perfunctory 'g'night'. She lay stiffly on the tiny bed, afraid to move for fear of accidentally brushing her body against the Doctor's, afraid to think for fear of the Doctor somehow being able to spontaneously read her mind, afraid to sleep for fear of acting on her sure to be inappropriate dreams, afraid to breathe for fear his scent would overwhelm her impulse control.
"Rose."
She couldn't possibly stiffen any more, so as a compromise Rose stopped breathing altogether.
"Rose," the Doctor repeated. She clenched her teeth, knowing if he said it one more time she'd really have to answer him and desperately not wanting to.
"Rose."
She gasped out a breath. He was hovering above her, his words ghosting air over her cheek and eyelashes. She hadn't even heard him move.
"Rose," he whispered, "please tell me."
Her eyes flew open. He was pleading with her. The soft moonlight seeping in from the door and window illuminated the room just enough to see the desperate longing in his eyes. Was it even possible?
"Doctor?" Rose whispered, pleading in return. Was he really asking what she thought he was? Or was this just another moment when she'd got it wrong? Just one more time when he would suddenly grin and say something unexpected? Or was this it? Was this the moment she'd been dreaming of and hoping for and telling herself would never happen?
"Rose, please, I need you to …"
"Need me to what, Doctor?"
He closed his eyes and shook his head. He pulled back and she panicked.
No.
Not now, not when they were so close.
She shifted until she was on her back below him and reached out. She hesitated just before her face could cup his cheek. It wasn't as though she'd never touched his face, but this…this just felt so much more intimate than any time before it.
He held his breath.
She ran her fingertips over his cheekbone gently, then through his hair and to the nape of his neck. The Doctor shuddered and sighed before leaning down to press his lips against hers. She was completely taken in by the softness of his lips. The kiss was brief and almost chaste.
Rose was totally unsatisfied and more than a little confused.
"Doctor?" She couldn't stand for him to change his mind, to say he didn't want this, that she'd misunderstood. "Is this…are you…should we not…"
"Rose, I can't…I can't…I…"
She closed her eyes tightly against tears.
"S'okay. Doctor? Don't…it was just a kiss. If you don't want…"
"No, Rose. Oh no, no, no, no. I…you have to…well, you don't have to obviously. I mean, I need you to … I can't be the one to…it has to be you. But if you don't want…if this isn't…Blimey!" The Doctor slumped onto his back dejectedly. "Nine hundred years. Ten incarnations, I've never been so completely unable to talk. I'm the Doctor!"
Rose giggled. She couldn't help it. Whatever it was he was trying to say, he was feeling just as flummoxed as her.
"One for the record books then, yeah?"
"Oh definitely. Those Guinness folks would have a field day with this. Well, I suppose if I had to explain to them who I was and why this was such an occasion they'd be likely to be sidetracked by the millennia old alien with two hearts, but really this is worthy of their attention. I can filibuster with the best of them, but explain a relatively simple custom to a London shop girl and well, words fail me. That's a bit comforting, now I think it over. That words have failed me, rather than the other way 'round. Much better than to think the last of the Time Lords could be felled by…well, by this," he gestured with his hands in the empty space between them.
"And what is this, exactly? Only you haven't actually said," Rose asked.
"I can't…initiate, as it were, any sort of, of, of …"
Rose finally got it. Or thought she had.
"Relations?"
The Doctor shivered.
"So you're saying, you want to…have relations. With me. Only you can't say so. Or make a move?" She giggled again. From nerves, from excitement, from the complete absurdity of his waiting for her to make her move while she waited and hoped and longed for him to make his move. "I thought you said you had the moves?"
"Oh I've got the moves," he assured her, his voice all promise and danger. "Rose, this is …on Gallifrey, my home, the first joining is sacred. Binding. It signifies a deeper commitment. It's not just about a physical union. It's a promise to each other, and since time forgotten the female has always been the one to offer that promise. For a male to ask, or even suggest it … well, even I was never rebel enough for that. And what, may I ask, is so funny," he demanded as Rose giggled again.
"Just thinking what a couple of gits we are. Here I've been waiting all this time for you to make a move, and you've been waiting for me, and neither of us ever just said," Rose laughed. "And here I was so wound up about us getting one room again because people assumed we're a couple."
"Oh, Rose. Preconceived notions. Terrible things, those."
"Yeah. Well, Doctor, I've a few more you could help me with," Rose said, inching closer to him until her knees were brushing his thighs.
"Oh?" he squeaked.
"Most of them about what it's like making love to a Time Lord," she continued, taking his hand and entwining her fingers with his. "Care to teach me how they're wrong? I promise, I'll be very open minded."
The Doctor smiled. "Oh yes. Dispeller of Preconceived Notions. That's a new title for me."
Rose smiled back. "I like it. Now, earn it."
So he did.