Title: Pillow Talk
Summary: "A bed," she said quietly, peering up at him through thick lashes "is the most intimate place in the universe." The Doctor buys a bed to share, living arrangements are settled, and domestic life inside the TARDIS is explored. A series of oneshots with a mix of sweet, funny, and in-between.
The decision had been made suddenly, and without her knowledge.
Knowing her, she would've argued, or perhaps insisted she go along and help pick out the model or sort out the little details. No, she was not particularly concerned with interior decorating, but rather focused on anything that she thought could make the Doctor's life better, happier, smoother. There were times when he wondered if she felt like her presence was a nuisance, with all the quiet gestures she would do to show she cared, or maybe was grateful. This idea irked him.
To think she should be more grateful for his companionship that he should for hers was ridiculous.
Once she joined his company and decided to discover the universe, she hardly slept. When she did, it was in room and board on some distant planet for the night, or in the most comfortable chair or bench the TARDIS had, after being up for days at a time with little room to break. To be fair, the Doctor had hardly noticed because they were enjoying the time so much, as if there were so little time to sleep when there was so much to see and do. It wasn't until he began to notice her little moments of nodding off at random points, times he didn't pinpoint because "days" and "24 hour cycles" had little meaning outside of earth.
And so on a stop to ensure the Leaning Tower of Pisa during restoration work in 2001 was properly overseen, he deftly managed the furniture district to find the perfect bed. It was a queen size with the head and footboard of polished iron and a suitable mattress, nothing too soft or too firm. After all, he did not want to seem like a try-hard in front of the girl who was as easy as Sunday brunch. It was tempting to travel the galaxy in search for something more sophisticated or alien, something that held worlds within the stitches of its sheets or could produce images of the future in ones dreams. However, he knew Rose preferred to live the simple lifestyle she grew up in, free of pretentious or ornate things.
He wanted to give her worlds and moons, but she would rather explore them, and he liked that, preferred that even. And to have a touch of something human in such a constantly ethereal environment would please her.
The bed was there when they returned for the night, in the quaint, yet spacious room adjoining the library and bathroom and without explanation of to how it got there. When he led her there and turned on the light, it sat plainly against the back wall with a clean, white duvet on top and two matching pillows, as if it had been there since the beginning of time itself.
"What's this? You're afraid of carpets and a mortgage," she inquired with a raised eyebrow "but now you've decided to establish a bedroom?"
She sat down the souvenir she had picked up for her mother on the table, the only other piece of furniture in the rarely-used room and approached the bed. Her fingers lightly touched the pure duvet, and he watched her. She had seen things she could have never imagined in her time with the Doctor, and yet this had seen a bit too out of character to be real.
She turned and looked at him imploringly. "This is your doing, yeah?"
"I supposed nights in hotels and inns and chairs in various locations around space and time weren't suitable for you anymore. You humans are quite exhaustible."
"You're exhaustible," she laughed shortly. "I'm fine."
He smiled. That was very much like her, to fight him when he insisted she was anything but strong. She took a few steps toward him and crossed her arms. He crossed his in response, mimicking her.
"You've been tired," he replied.
"I've been happy. I've been with you."
He repressed an even further grin. "Sweetening me up to get me to return the bed?"
"Return it?" She seemed genuinely surprised. "You've been tired too, Doctor."
She turned from him and disappeared into the bathroom, her voice trailing out through the door. "Don't think I've noticed your little snoozes here and there at all odd moments of the day. And besides-" she peeked her head out from around the corner, her shoulder bare and suggesting she was not clothed "did you not realize you only bought one bed?"
Whether he did or not at the time of purchase, one will never know. And yet, he found himself growing a bit hot, glancing at the bed as if it were a new territory to be explored. It is one thing to have thoughts about something, and another to experience it; the great and illustrious Doctor was mildly nervous about both. What if he had made her uncomfortable, gave the wrong idea about his intentions? Sure, they had been physical before, just not…physical. Oh God, what were his intentions? What if she recuperated them? What if-
"Coming to bed?"
She had reappeared swiftly with damp hair, a minty mouth, a pair of shorts, and a plain cotton t-shirt hanging loosely over her. Her feet softly padded across the floor, over to him, and a slightly concerned expression crossed her features. She touched his arm.
"Not to worry," she said gently "there's plenty of hot water left, if that's what's got you worried."
His eyes settled on her. How long had he been standing there, unmoving? He quickly assured her that he was fine, darted into the bathroom, and reemerged less than ten minutes later with a calculated look and heavy feet. She sat on top of the covers with her legs folded under her, sending a quick text to her mother to assure her Italy was fine and no harm had come to them. When she finished, she looked up and grinned, her mouth in an upward curve so beautiful he thought that surely the round creatures of Saturn's rings would take notice and swoon of envy. She patted the bed next to her, so adorably, that his feet magically moved a bit faster. He sat down and crossed his legs, facing her.
And she put both of her hands on the side of his face, leaned in, and kissed him.
He closed his eyes for a brief moment, smiling, capturing that one, fleeting kiss forever, calculating the probable positive rate of change of his heartbeats, inhaling every particle of the scent of her lingering shampoo, rewinding that touch for all of eternity, willing to die and regenerate forever if it meant experiencing her lips just once more.
"Thank you," she breathed into his ear. "This was very nice of you."
She moved closer and found herself against his chest. An uncommon occurrence and yet it felt like home.
"Oh, it's just a bed," he insisted.
She looked up at him. "A bed," she said quietly, peering up at him through thick lashes "is the most intimate place in the universe."
"And to think," he said with such gravity of quiet importance "that I have the privilege of sharing such a place with you." The odds really were improbable that he be so lucky.
They looked quietly at one another for a moment before she moved away, to his disdain, to lie down. She laid her head on her folded arms, her body stretched out and her t-shirt falling toward the comforter. He noticed her in more appreciative detail- the curvature of her breasts rising and falling with each breath, the outline of her figure, the curl of her toes as she stretched. He so desired to hold her, feel her against him, but he was so helpless in that all he could do is lay down next to her and watch her breathe.
"What are you thinking?" she said after a while of silence. "Are you nervous?"
"I am thinking that beds are excellent investments. Why would I be nervous?"
She looked down and picked at the invisible threads on the comforter. "I don't know. I figured…you buying one bed and all. I-"She sat up and paused. "If you don't mind me asking?"
"Not at all."
"Do things" she started uneasily, slowly "down there…work the same way for you?" She met his eyes for a brief moment before looking away embarrassedly. "There's just so little I know about the Time Lords."
He looked imploringly at her. "I suppose you mean my anatomy in comparison to that of the human race's?"
Silence.
He pondered for a moment. "Well, I suppose so."
"And you've never…?"
"No," he said simply. "Time Lords do procreate in order to avoid extinction-"
"But do you love?" she said suddenly, looking at him with new eyes he hadn't seen. She then retracted quickly. "Was it something common, a part of your culture, or was there only ritual?"
That stung a little. To realize that she did not see.
"Rose," he said gently, seriously, and she looked at him. He took her hand and held it to his bi-chamber heart. "Time Lords procreate to avoid extinction, but we do also love. Deeply. Truly."
"And yet your intentions with this bed were quite platonic." She scooted closer. "Ah, the pains of being pure at heart."
He looked a bit uncomfortable. "Well, what did you expect? I don't have much...experience with that sort of business."
"It's funny. My mother always saw you as some middle-aged villain, twiddling your moustache and unfolding your plan to steal her virtuous daughter away."
"What if that is my plan?"
"Who said I was virtuous?"
She looked at him, smiling coolly, and yet there was a burning behind her look that said she was teasing him. Of course, he had…thought about her, but he tried not to, as those thoughts tended to lead to thoughts of her and Mickey, reminders of the way she had looked at him many times. Time Lords experienced emotions, but the Doctor really never had much to be jealous of until he had met Rose Tyler and her increasingly brave (ex?)-boyfriend. Jealousy- that had been something new.
He paused before continuing. "I hope you realize that I don't need any physical aspects to enjoy traveling with you. Just being able to share quarters with a companion such as yourself is more than enough."
And that, he realized, was more than true. There was no denying that he found a physical attraction to her, something unfamiliar and exciting that made him want to do and experience things they hadn't ventured into before. But to be able to ponder over the wonders of the universe with her and a cup of warm tea in the late hours of the night, or to wake up to someone who makes mornings seem like holidays brought unmatched satisfaction, something so particularly wonderful and intimate that at times it scared him. There was so much between them that was unclear, but they never felt the need to put labels on anything. He was the Doctor and she was Rose and together they could do anything.
She smiled at him, a warm one full of gratitude for his existence, and moved up against his chest once more. Instinctively, he wrapped his arm around her waist and brought her closer, moving his face close against hers before burying his nose into her neck. He inhaled deeply; no scent in the universe could compare. Her pulse, warm beneath his touch, sang to him. Her collarbone was a beautiful crater of a moon. There was nothing like this.
His fingers gently pushed the sleeve of her t-shirt down so he could plant a gentle kiss on her smooth shoulder. She froze a bit, surprised, but decided that she had rather enjoyed the unfamiliarity. She felt something different within him, something faster and bolder, yet always conscientious and careful not to offend or make her uncomfortable. A sigh escaped her lips.
He froze. Pulled away. Misinterpreted her act of exhaling.
She looked at him. Wished that he would come back.
"Big day tomorrow," he murmured, signaling for the lights to go off and sliding under the covers.
She would let him go. There were many more nights ahead such as this one, and too much time to rush anything.
"Goodnight, Doctor."
"Mmm."
They fell fast asleep.
A/N: I haven't exactly figured out where I'm going with this, although I like the premise. Please forgive me for how disjointed and just not-good this chapter is, but hopefully I'll find some footing on common ground soon.