doctorroseprompts 31 Days of Ficmas – Family, Shiver, Rosy cheeks, Love

timpetalsprompts Piper Bingo – Tongue-touched smile

Notes: According to Sherlock Holmes, three kisses means romantic attachment. (A Scandal in Belgravia)

"Drink, Iain?" Alistair pressed one into Iain's hand before he could respond. "And one for, ah, Rose." Rose smiled, murmuring thanks as she accepted the glass. She swirled the contents, looking at the guests.

"You met Alistair, of course. The group at the table are Mike Yates, John Benton, Jo Grant and her husband, and Harry Sullivan. We served together. The lot standing next to them comprise of Erisa Magambo, Mariam Price, Alan Mace, and Szymon Zbrigniev," Iain snapped his mouth shut. He didn't normally have such a tendency to ramble, or rather he had used to but had since ceased that habit. A brunette woman entered the room, her eyes widening obviously in shock when they landed on Iain, who promptly excused himself. Rose watched as he walked up to the woman, eyes bright, and embraced her.

I have no right bein' jealous, Rose told herself firmly as Iain led the woman to where she was waiting.

"Sarah, I'd love you to meet my fiancé, Rose Tyler. Rose, darling, let me introduce Sarah Jane Smith." Iain's eyes were tight, as if he were worried that Rose would not be able to keep her cover.

"Sarah Jane, it's lovely to meet you," Rose put on as warm a smile as she could muster. "You don't know how nice it is to finally get to know some of Iain's friends."

"Oh, this lot's always felt more like family. I can't tell you what it's been like these last few years, Iain's always trying to duck out at the last minute, then he shows up alone. Did you really catch the flu on Christmas for the past two years?" Sarah Jane's voice was sympathetic and filled with compassion.

Rose's smile turned slightly. "Yeah, bit of a Tyler holiday tradition. Usually manage to catch the flu just in time for the holidays," she improvised. It wasn't a complete lie, both she and her mother had been sick during Christmas, but it hadn't been last year or the year before. A hand touched her bare shoulder, and she shivered, leaning in to the touch.

Sarah Jane sighed. "The two of you look post card ready, with the snowy background through the window and the mistletoe hanging above you."

Mistletoe? It certainly hadn't been Alistair's idea to hang the garish decoration. What was his wife's name? Sally? Fiona?

"Ah, Doris," Alistair was embracing a woman who had just entered the room. Sally (or Fiona) must have been the name of his first wife. The mother of his daughter. She'd been a little girl when he'd seen her last, nearly fifteen years ago. He supposed that she was an adult now (children did tend to grow up all too fast, he knew this quite well.)

"Iain?" A voice asked, incredulous. Iain looked over to see a young blonde woman coming over to him. She looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place how he knew her.

"Iain, you remember my wife, Doris," Alistair introduced the first woman.

"Charmed," Iain nodded, not particularly remembering. He knew that he must have attended their wedding, but that had been fifteen years ago, when he'd last seen Alistair's daughter.

"And my daughter – Kate, would you come here for a moment? Iain's finally brought his fiancé over," Alistair called the younger woman.

"Alistair," Iain hissed, but the other man paid him no mind. Iain was jumpy. There were quite a few too many people for his liking in the vicinity, but he had resigned himself to that fate. This, however, was quite a different matter. This was personal. This was getting to know people that he didn't know, only saw once a year, and people who probably didn't remember him.

"Yes, Dad?" The young blonde woman looked from her father to Iain.

"You remember Iain?" Alistair prompted her.

She studied Iain for a moment. "He was in your wedding?" She sounded ever so slightly unsure of herself.

Kate would remember that. She'd been twenty-four when her father had remarried. Iain supposed that Kate wasn't so young any more, but didn't care to consider what that made Alistair and himself.

"Best man," Alistair clapped Iain's shoulder. "And now you're getting married. At some point, I presume."

Iain hummed. "Later rather than sooner, I presume. I only just got around to asking for her hand this morning."

"This morning? Iain, you've been talking about marrying this woman for six months!" Alistair exclaimed, shocked.

"I never claimed to have very good timing, Alistair."

"No, well, we are all quite aware of that," Alistair shook his head. He raised his glass. "A toast," he announced to the guests. "To Rose and Iain. It's about bloody time." Rose toasted Iain, hiding a smirk.

"Six months?" She whispered, a coy smile on her face.

"It's a long story," Iain seethed quietly.

"Half the year, apparently," Rose smiled, tongue touching out. She became aware that Alistair's guests were looking at her and Iain expectantly.

"I think they want you to kiss her, Iain," John called from down the table.

Iain regarded Rose, who quirked her shoulders slightly. Unconsciously, he moistened his lips. Her cheeks were pinkening, but she reached for his hand. His head tilted, forehead leaning in, and their lips touched ever so briefly. But Rose didn't pull away. She captured his lips in her own, and Iain could practically feel her radiating love. But of course, it wasn't real. This was only a fake relationship, after all, one strung together for his convenience so that his lie to his friends was not outed. Rose couldn't love him. Iain broke the kiss, suddenly aware of Mike and John whooping, Sarah and Jo giddily whispering to each other, and Alistair just shaking his head and sighing.

"We are engaged, remember?" Rose chimed out, as Iain's friends looked on, wriggling her ring finger. It nearly broke her heart to remember that they weren't, that this was a pretence for Iain's closest friends, that he'd gotten himself in a bind and invited her along for the fun of it. And she was having fun, meeting new people, learning more about her co-worker's personal life, getting to know him more and more as a person who was not just the professor with whom she worked on occasion. Or rather, he worked in his laboratory and she modelled her paintings on him. (Rose had always wanted to be an artist, and had been quite good at it. After so many missed opportunities, she had finally enrolled herself in a community college art class.)

Rose pressed a second, brief kiss to Iain's cheek. If she was only going to have this one chance to be with Iain Prydon, then she was going to savour every last moment of it.

She noticed Doris slip off into the kitchen and frowned. It wasn't a dinner party and so the older woman truly had no reason to be in the kitchen. Perhaps she just needed a break from the exuberant environment. It did not appear that they entertained a large party such as this frequently, and Rose presumed that Doris was simply over-exhausted. Rose excused herself, following the older woman.

"Are you all right?" She stepped in to the kitchen.

"Oh," Doris exclaimed, closing her eyes. "You startled me. Rose, was it?"

"Yeah," Rose smiled. "Are you all right?" She repeated her question.

"Oh, yes, yes. It has been quite a while since we've had so many guests over, I'm afraid that I needed a moment." Doris smiled weakly, leaning against the countertop.

"Nothing that a spot of tea won't fix," Rose suggested. Doris nodded.

"Tea's just in that jar on the counter."

Rose filled the kettle with water, taking comfort in the task's familiarity. "How many people are here, anyway?"

"Oh, there's Alistair and myself, and Kate of course. Iain and you. Mike, John, Jo, Harry, and Sarah. Jo's husband. And those other UNIT chaps, there's four of them. So that's four and six and two and three, which makes ten and five which is fifteen. Is that all?" Doris laughed faintly.

"We might need two pots, then," Rose joked.

"Oh, those UNIT fellows – that's how they are all acquainted, by the way, dear, some obscure branch of the United Nations – are all coffee drinkers. Every last one of them. Except for myself. I didn't know what I was marrying in to – hopefully now that you know, you'll not change your mind and find an out of your engagement!" Doris placed a clean filter in the coffeepot and began to measure grounds. "It truly is like a family," she continued after starting the coffee brewing, "and I can see that everyone here is looking forward to getting to know you better, Rose."

Rose nodded, only thinking that Iain Prydon was not truly planning on marrying her.