SAroma Therapy
By: SilverLunarStar
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine…
Author's Note: Dedicated to bloose09 on LJ. Sorry I couldn't send you Nine instead, but I hope this will do. Happy (late) Birthday!
Rose practically climbed into the Doctor as he held her close. For a minute, she allowed the horrors of the day to be pushed to the back of her mind as she reciprocated the embrace, clinging to the man. This man, this alien man, who had held a gun at her only moments ago and she sought comfort in his arms. They'd been in dangerous situations before, had nearly died more times than she cared to count. This time, however, he hadn't been by her side. Her breath hitched and she burrowed closer, her nose buried in the crook of his neck, something that would usually be impossible if not for the fact that he'd bent her body back to align them together, seeking as much contact possible.
She was suddenly overwhelmed with his scent, a musky smell with just a hint of flora, something she labeled as Time Lord, and another she could only think of as time. It was his scent, his very presence that made her feel safe even in the most dangerous moments. Even when the danger had been him. The feel of him, the smell of him; those were things she'd never be able to forget and she knew it would always bring her comfort.
The Doctor's body ached as his arms tightened around her, keeping her with him. He ignored his pain receptors that let him know he still wasn't healed from Van Statten's machine and instead concentrated on Rose's overwhelming scent. As a Time Lord, as a Gallifreyan, he could smell a lot better than humans of the twenty-first century. He smelled fear, death (she'd been too close to all the people that had died, he had killed her - even if only for a second), something indescribably Rose, and she smelled of various different flowers. He wouldn't be surprised if he did too.
They'd been in the garden, Rose insisting they refresh the candonwood sapling's fertilizer themselves instead of letting the TARDIS do it automatically. "There's no point in planting something if you don't do the work. When it's grown, we won't be able to be proud of our accomplishment because we didn't do it ourselves," she'd said and, of course, he'd given in.
That was the only reason he'd been able to do what he did today. It'd been a couple of months since 10 Downing Street, but not long after that, she'd made him promise if they were ever in a similar situation again (he knew she wasn't naïve enough to think it wouldn't happen), he'd choose the world. They'd discussed (okay, argued) for hours, but he finally gave in, just as he had with planting the sapling, just as he had when she wanted them to take care of it without the TARDIS's intervention. "But you have to promise me, never give up the fight," he'd made her swear and she'd scoff. "You won't be getting rid of me so easily." She'd echoed those words earlier today as well.
His nose nuzzled the crook of her neck as he inhaled once again, his body reacting to her essence as much as the contact, feeling her legs tightening slightly against his and taking in the unmistakable scent of her own reaction. He mentally shook it off. After being emotionally wrung out since realising that a Dalek had actually survived, a sense of peace settled within and he didn't want to ruin it so he reigned in all the self-control he had in order to continue to hold on. He knew deep within that she was someone who would forever be ingrained in him.
Someday my work will have lots and lots of dialogue. Someday.
Thoughts?
~*Eli